Space

[Rose Cariadus]

The high began to wane much like a fallen Mandalorian basilisk during the ancient crusade over Duxun, for killing only brought so much joy before that consumed itself. Killing left gashes in the force, Achzet had taught him so and how to exploit such things. To pull power from the death of a life was a dreadful thing, but it brought a high unlike any drug. Prydein let his face relax as he began to answer the great Hutt Master. “My Lord, I come before you, not for marriage, though she is beautiful, but for training in the Arts of the Sith. For I have had enough of senseless use of the force, I need control.” Prydein knelt, feeling the last vestiges of force strength begin to ebb out of his body, leaving a howling void where once the energy of life had been. His muscles contracted painfully,and Prydein knew that he had not much strength left before he needed to feed again.

 

Shadows stretched at the corners of his eyes, but utilizing the strength he had not tapped for quite some time, the bearded man sat still before the Hutt. His leg muscles going through a myriad of spasms as the cells consumed each other in persuit of energy. Once he had been a proud fighter, a young Sith Apprentice, searching for life in the Valley of the Dark Lords. Now, the teachings of the Sith left undisturbed had nearly consumed him. Inexperience, a lack of balance, and a corrupted soul had brought him to the very edge of life. This Hutt was truly his only chance.

[Sheog the Mad]

The Great Lord of Madness watched the man with rapt attention, studying his reactions and his physicality. His eyes were as yellow as a primrose, and hair black as the void of space. Through the Force, the Sith Master could feel the writhing agony within his mind.

 

<<I’ve seen many fall to the demon of spice. I know the rush in your veins. I used to peddle it as a young worm… I’ve seen it’s power, how it can heat your blood, giving you the rush you seek, to keep you alive in The Force… >>

 

The rush of addiction crackled through the air, the feeling of a pounding heartbeat. All the pride, the energy, the spike of pleasure, channeled through The Force. It exploded into an all consuming hunger, a gluttony unbound

 

<<Before it casts you into the hell of the fall, the lust for more. Your heart cried out for its corruptions, to make it beat again, but only for a time. You are forever in the pursuit of the last pinnacle of it strength, only to slip further away. The power you harness from Spice will rot out your mind and your heart and is forever beyond your reach.>>

 

The Hutt raised a greasy palm, and from it sprang an image of Pryden, his hair greying from its blackness and tangled, his skin as pockmarked as his veins. There was no power left in him. Sheog dissolved the image in a swirl flame,

 

<<That is the power of Spice. Weakness. The Sith are not meant for weakness…>>

 

The Sith master purged the high from Pryden’s veins with Lust’s fire and picked him up in his grip, drawing him face to face with the massive Hutt. So close Pryden could see the swirling madness in his crimson eyes, smell the endless hunger in the Force. As the Hutt spoke, the man was covered in a splash of goopy spittle

 

<<You will learn strength. But first you must conquer your addictions… You are a slave to their call, to the grasping hands of weakness. Be its slave no longer…>>

 

The Hutt tossed Pryden, sprawling him across a full course of Aderan Gelatin.

 

<<Or die in its fire. Now follow me… And witness True Power…Not from your Ryll or Glitterstim, not from the Gods of Chaos… But from The Force itself...>>

 

The overlarge Hutt reached out in The Force, binding the Spirit of Karys in a latticework of madness. With one greasy hand, Sheog stabbed into the Massassi’s ribcage with his broadheaded axe, drawing the stale blood from where it had collected when his aorta had been shredded by Eris. Hayley pushed forward one of the Bith Musicians, into Sheog’s waiting hands. The Hutt spat upon the man a portion of acid from his gullet, and wound about them Krath Magic. The Bith’s body dissolved and his soul was harnessed for energy.

 

Into the Body of the Massassi, Sheog poured his malice and insanity, corrupting marrow and blood, reawakening it from death. From Lust’s head, Sheog plucked a single flaxen hair, imbued with her corruption. From it the Aorta was stitched together, and blood once again filled the veins. To the spirit of Karys, The Sith Master now turned

 

<<Live not in your former… Ineptitude…>>

 

He conjured up the countless deaths of the beasts past before casting them into darkness. With a tightening of his web of madness he shredded the spirit, forcing it deep into the mind of the reawakening Massassi, fully shattered. The Hutt placed a hand on the Massassi’s face, forcing breath into his lungs

 

<<Awaken as my apprentice, and fool no longer!>>

[Karys Narat iv-Adas]

Karys listened very intently as Sheog explained himself to the human, explained how spice was as nothing to the Force....that nothing was in comparison. Not even the god's themselves, which if Karys had been alive he was inclined to agree with. He had seen many things in his life but nothing seemed even marginally in comparison to what the Force had shown to be capable of doing. Such was it's power over life and death. Those who dared to say otherwise had always inevitably been proven wrong.

 

He was envious of the power at this Hutt's command. To be able to show the future by the look of it of what might be of the man had he continued on his current path in life, swallowed by the spice into a shallow form of what he once was. It disgusted Karys to think that such a thing could happen, to think of spice. That drug was a bane on all existence...it was partly why he had it banned as regent on Korriban and any world inhabited by his kind. Those found with it or using it were imprisoned or put to death. Extreme measures for a extreme situation he saw it as, besides it hampered the Force so he saw it as doing a favor for his people by the banning of it.

 

As the Hutt continued speaking, at last Karys understood. At last he knew...why he had failed. He had let weakness in and in turn failed the Sith, for any form of weakness be it pride, ego or more was not worthy of the Force or their attention. The galaxy could not be ruled by men or woman bound by such qualms or morality..or those without restraint over their abilities. No, he would not allow it again, not now nor ever if he had his way. A new day dawned, a dark day for the galaxy. He had been reborn anew and this Hutt as curious as he was had shown him the way. A debt he hoped to repay if he was reborn by taking the lessons to heart and disconnecting himself from his weaknesses.

 

And reborn he was. Soon enough he found himself intrigued when the overlarge Hutt reached out in The Force, wondering just what he was about to conjure. He had little time to consider it as what happened next caught him somewhat off-guard. He found himself drawn, even dragged into a latticework of un-natural of madness that sucked him towards his corpse. For most this would have driven them insane, but for Karys he had suffered at the hands of Chaos itself and as such was largely unaffected by it. He remained unmoved when Sheog stabbed into the ribcage of his former body with his broad-headed axe, drawing the blood from where it had collected and had been shredded by his former master. The massassi noted that a follower of the Hutt Sith Master pushed forward one of the Bith Musicians, into the Sith's waiting hands. As the Hutt spat upon the man he noticed too that a portion of acid came spewing forth from his gullet, and wound about them all in a fearsome display of Krath Magic the likes of which he had never witnessed. It was fascinating to him. It would have been a disgusting sight seeing the acid spew out in his former existence and if not for the fact that the Bith’s body began dissolving into the Force itself only to be re-purposed when his soul was harnessed for energy to fuel the exchange.

 

A life for a life. That was the price it appeared demanded of the ritual undertaken, a fact he appreciated. That his life was worth more than the Bith's own to the Hutt.

 

Karys felt a strangeness to him as into his formerly occupied body he flew, Sheog having poured into it his malice and insanity. He felt himself, his real body almost. Repairing itself. The corruption of the darkside fixing marrow and blood, reawakeningthe dead tissues from death. From one of the kids heads, a kid he had seen previously, Karys noted that Sheog plucked a single hair, that was imbued with her essence...her corruptive, consuming essence. It seemed to almost echo Sheog save for the fact he dwarfed her in sheer power of the darkside and it's command. From it he saw how the Aorta that was torn asunder was stitched together, and blood once again filled the veins.

 

The body was now repaired, all that was needed now was to bind the spirit to the body. It was then that the Hutt he saw turned to face him, in fact it became evident he saw him and likely had known of his presence since the start. Felt him even but simply needed a prodding. And then he felt something. Something strange yet welcoming.

 

He saw as he was dragged to his body that the Hutt conjured up the countless deaths of the beasts past before casting them into darkness. He felt their pain, their death's even. Just as soon after he felt his spirit form shred as if into nothing, forced deep into the back of his mind like a piece of important jewellery into a safe and yet it was broken. Split apart and yet one. Only then did Karys feel it. Life return as The Hutt placed a hand on his face, forcing breath into his lungs.

 

Returning to life that which was dead.

 

As life returned, Karys eyes shot open like some horror movie where the body raises up again to stab a waiting victim. At first his vision was blurred, he had been without his physical senses for 3 days afterall...his body needed to adjust. However it did not take long for his eyes to do just that at least. The shape of the Hutt came into view followed by other shapes, smells...oh how he missed that and sound. Everything was as it had been before his death save his spirit. Lifting himself from the desert tray and wiping himself of whipped cream, and checking he had most of his weaponry.

 

He found that he at least had kept the saber on the back of his belt, his two cortosis lined (serrated) swords on either side and the knife in his boot despite events. But was slightly dismayed that the other saber had gone missing. He had been through alot to earn that and make it as such he felt some connection to it, like he had to all his weapons. Despite the fact he was noble born Karys was a military man and a soldier. As such he took great pride in his equipment. All of it.

 

After the check the massassi bowed reverently and deeply in respect the Sheog as he lowered to one knee, facing his new master. He had earnt a debt of gratitude and well as respect. He spoke, struggling somewhat to speak but managing all the same.

 

''You have my thanks great one, my master. For returning my life where it was taken, and opening my eyes where before I was blind. For showing me my weakness. I shall strive to not fail again and become the sith those before you tried to make of me. In my arrogance I failed to take heed, but no more. I have learnt much in death.''

[Rose Cariadus]

Prydein’s weaknesses had always defined him, from his depressed overeating as a child, or his addiction to women and alcohol as a teenager, to the eventual full on spice addiction that escalated during his late twenties. He witnessed the Hutt’s vision for him, and his heart cried out in pain. How had he possibly fallen that far? Far enough that he would do anything for the slightest high. He didn’t know how he would conqueror it. He didn’t know if he had the strength to finally ditch the addictions that he had tried to flee from so many times before. Quitting was never that easy, he remembered all the times he had sworn off the stuff to only return a week later to the scum filled underworld where he had made his home. Too high to see the despair of his predicament. The Hutt picked him up like he was no more than a doll and gazed into his very soul.

 

A fire struck upon his heart, perhaps placed there by the Mad Hutt, or by the desire for another High. And when he was tossed into the food display, Prydein let his eyelids flutter closed. A second passed like an eternity, and his back impacted with serving dishes and tableware alike. Dragging a long stain of food across the overburdened table. His mind was set as strong as those eyes were inflamed by madness. He would overcome.

 

He pulled himself from the ruins of the food display and knelt. Observing, as the withdrawal fought for control of his mind with the fierceness of a caged Nek battle dog. He would overcome, he knew it

[Ruby]

With a few well-placed taps on the datapad she gripped between her hand and elbow, the Chiss finished the inventory of their latest haul. She glanced up at Sapphire, who entered the cargo hold with a question. Scrolling down to the summary on her inventory page, she grinned, the whites of her teeth in stark contrast to her cerulean skin.

 

"Not half bad for a half-baked plan," she said drolly. "Looks like twelve cases, at ten warheads per case."

 

Placing the datapad in its mount on the wall of the hold, she turned back to the others, her brilliant eyes scanning between the two of them as she brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen in her face with a practiced maneuver. "Did I hear something about Hutt space?"

[Sapphire]

Sapphire whistled. "That's a nice number," she said, "given how everything went to hell."

 

She tossed Ruby a datapad with the damage readouts on it. "Unfortunately, the Hapan military tore my ship to shreds. Em figured that Nar Shaddaa was our best bet for repairs...and to maybe find a buyer for some of those warheads. We're on our way now."

 

The three pirates finished catching each other up on everything, then separated to get cleaned up--especially Emerald and Ruby, since they were still covered in crusty dried white fire suppressant foam. Sapphire also took a shower, using a special shampoo to wash the dye out of her hair, returning it to it's natural vibrant red. She then spent extra time in front of the mirror, and dressed extra carefully. There were a lot of people she knew on Nar Shaddaa, and a pirate always had to make an impression.

 

Thankfully there were two refreshers on the ship. That had been a necessary upgrade when it had become the Blood Gems' mobile base. Otherwise the three of them would have been pulling each other's hair an hour into every flight.

 

Not long after, they were coming out hyperspace above the Smuggler's Moon.

[Delta73]

As he walked through the many corridors of the Marie, Delta could not seem to shake that sense of dread that came from the pit of his stomach. His and Qaela’s footsteps echoing down the empty hallway, seemed to reverberate through his chest and into his throat which filled with nervous bile. The gleaming and well polished hallway disintegrated into a dry and foot trodden red sand arena, its previously well groomed floor now covered with blood and bodies. Delta’s armour, previously his comfortable black and crimson Katarn III was now simply the gleaming white of a class one armour suit. Issued before the battle of Geonosis. Delta’s heart climbed into his throat as h realized where he was. This WAS the battle of Geonosis, and all of its slaughter lay before him. The sand felt soft and malleable beneath his boots as he fell into a firing crouch. The screams of the dead and dying filled his ears, punctuated by the pounding of distant heavy guns. Delta was part of the fourth wave of Elite Clone troopers to be inserted into the arena, the main force of Jedi and Droids long since having left the arena.

 

The Jedi General, Gansarit Faltornis, was standing beside him, tears streaming down his already old and wrinkled face. Tears tracing the wrinkles, like a flood through a canyon. His left hand held a lit yellow saber and his knuckles were white around the grey hilt with rage as he looked over the carnage before him. A hundred fallen Jedi. The cream of the Jedi order, the proud fallen, their multicoloured robes darkened with blaster burns and drying blood. As angry as that old Jedi Master had been at the needless slaughter of Jedi Knights, Delta could feel rage fill him to the brim from the countless unmoving white forms. Their ill made white armour cracked and burned.

 

“Find survivors, medical teams on me.” Delta held up his hand in a well practised sign and three medical team members, in their red highlighted armour, fell in behind him. They knew their orders, triage the Jedi first. Clones would be second. The chalk of clones fanned out around the abandoned arena and Delta was glad his helmet had filters that erased most smells of battle. Still, there was the hash smell of ozone and expended Tibanna Gas that seemed to always bypass any filters the Kaminoans could devise. Delta stepped over a pile of destroyed B2’s and knelt beside a red robed Twi’lek Jedi, his leku unmoving. Delta grabbed him by the shoulder and rolled him over to his back. Delta winced. A blackened crater had replaced the thin features of a twi’lek face that had once taught a class of padawans on lore and technology. What a kriffing waste. What a force damned waste.

 

Delta reached to his side and withdrew a small electronic tag from the drop pouch on his belt. The tag was small, silver, and composed of a wafer of silicon, adhesive, and a cheap projection pad, it was no bigger than a man’s small finger. Delta clicked one of the prearranged buttons on its surface and dropped in onto the robes of the Jedi Knight. A black coloured triage holo projection popped up to eye level, indicating to the triage teams that a Jedi Casualty lay there to be collected. Another bright star in the galaxy extinguished in the needless battle of Geonosis.

 

There were thousands of those tags to be used. And if Delta remembered correctly, they had to ship some more down from the command ships. The war would be long, and the manufacturers of those tags would be richer than most war profiteers. They would not need to send their children to war, because they had clones and Jedi to throw around. Parentless pawns that made war easy and distant for the republic that used them up like a spice addict would use Corirdine to ease his transition from dose to dose. Using up the cream of the Jedi Order and a million clone lives that were nothing more than a series of numbers on a spreadsheet.

 

Delta blinked his crystal blue eyes and shook himself from his revelry. He quickly gestured Qaela to her room, and walked to his. Making sure the door was securely locked, he walked to the back section of the room and opened secured door. Inside was a type of trophy room, shelves lined the walls filled with various knick knacks and precious remnants of missions taken a long time ago. His fingers brushed absentmindedly across an armour stand holding the armour of the Kal-Korans. Delta’s searching eyes found a battered grey crate. He quickly opened it and old smells brought a flood of memories. Dark memories. He quickly shut the case as he heard a sound of someone knocking on the doorway. He winced and turned. There was no one there except the shadow of memories. He could feel another shiver wrack his body. Why was this happening now? He cursed the force and made his way to Qaela's room.

[Exodus]

The Predator veered off into the deepest sea of black and disappeared from Serenno. On board, the crew remained quiet as Exodus could be heard in his chambers immersed in a dark mantra that echoed off of the walls of the entire vessel. The mellow dialect was black and filled the rest of the Seven with an oppressive but comfortable consolation. It was where the ship was headed that filled them with an animal fever; a world void of the craven and cuddlesome Sith that were left in the little pockets of the worlds around them. Arachnakorr was a bold and spirited secret that held remarkable dark power, a place for their kind to empower themselves beyond what was originally possible. It would be a little while before their destination was reached, but until then, a quiescent meditation fell over the crew.

[Ary the Grey]

While Dahar was cruising through space, he received a comm from "Arizzle Darkfizzle" that outlined where and when to pick him up. It was short and to the point. Like this post.

[Raynuk Montar]

Azron and his squadron of Morthos soldiers had jumped to hyperspace, disappearing from Korriban as speedily as they had arrived, and it wasnt long before Azron received a message back from those that he served in the Cult.

 

<>

 

Azron went immediately to the file that had been sent, reading it over and absorbing as much as he could.

 

• Real Name: Emily Zsahra-Skywalker
  A.K.A: Darth Eris
  Homeworld: Raxus Prime, although born on Coruscant
  Species: predominately human
  Age: 29 (birthday March 2)
  Height:5'5"
  Weight: 110 lbs
  Hair: black
  Eyes: one gray, one hazel
  Sex: female
   
  Attire: Often wears either a black jumpsuit or an outfit similar to the assassin known as Ventris. Also posesses a set of Armor similar to Prime Subject.
   
  Background:
  -Daughter of John Skywalker and Sirvani Zsahra* (*although her birth mother is a woman she knows only by one name: Bekka)
  -Grew up on Raxus Prime
  -When she was seven years old, father John died.
  -death tore mother apart; for several years Emily did not see much of Sirvani
  -Was cared for by the Nohgri slaves during this time.
  -A few years later, Mother returned; committed suicide shortly after.
  -spent the rest of her years alone until aged 18
  -was apprenticed to Prime Subject
  -participated in the Sith attack of Gala
  

 

Azron was also forwarded schematics for the temple on Raxus Prime; at least the most updated ones that could be found in such short order by the Cult of Morthos. The knowledge held within was as good as theirs already.

[Dahar Raikanda]

"I suppose there's plenty to discuss, but I'm not sure it it's all relevant. A lot has changed since last time. I've been put into a position of great power, of great responsibility. After cleaning up some messes we all ended up back on Tython. At the time I was only aware of myself and Master Kirlocca as the remaining Jedi in the galaxy. I thought we would rebuild the Order together. But then he left, abruptly. He called me the Grandmaster and then took off. So, I started doing things. I've attempted to build a team around me that I can trust. I've even allowed a non-Jedi into my inner circle. Well, I guess he's a Jedi now. I gave him the title of Jedi Master. I figured it would help things run smoothly if he carried the title. The man is certainly a master of the Force, if not a Jedi."

 

Dahar shook his head, "Neither here nor there, I suppose. For too long I've felt like the Jedi were dedicated to sitting around and waiting. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of always reacting instead of acting. I've also grown tired of dogma and rules."

 

He knew he was treading dangerous ground but that at least Aryian wouldn't hold any judgments. "I feel that, in order to secure the future, I've got to be able to understand all the hands at play. I haven't shared this line of thought with many, but I don't believe the Dark Side is the enemy. I believe it can be ally. Those who live ONLY for the Dark Side are the enemy. The problem I'm having is balance. When I was on Tython, in that temple, around all the other Jedi... my connection to the light felt so strong. I have this," Dahar held out the Galacron which he now wore around his neck tucked under his shirt, "the holocron that powered the Gala temple. When I focus on it I can feel it enhancing the Light in me. But when I embrace ideals that I know are not the Jedi way, that I know may be considered Dark Side, I feel the balance tipping.

 

Is this supposed to happen? Can I only be powerful going in one direction? Or can there be strength in the middle?"

[Tares Vortex]

The Traitor’s Hope slid through the blue, swirling corridor of hyperspace. Onboard, the Raxus-bound group of Force users were getting settled in for the multi-day journey.

 

Tares had found a small space in the crew lounge to sit and to get oriented toward the new ship. He had left his ship back on Chandrila. It made more sense to travel to Raxus together, especially to maintain a low profile. Tares had functioned just fine under the bounty on Force users. His transition from Jedi Master to businessman had been quite. Most people didn't even realize he was a Force user to begin with.

 

Still, traveling in a group of Force users required a greater sense of caution.

 

Once he had settled into the seat, Tares took out a datapad and began drafting a message to his secretary back on Corellia. He still needed the update the board of his change in plan and to explain his reasoning. Usually, he would do this via comm, but something deep inside him wanted to keep a barrier of time between him and the board. The delay in text communication should work.

 

As he worked on the datapad, Atlas came floating in from the opposite end of the crew lounge, “I have completed my scan of this vessel. Structural scans reveal several minor lesions in the outer hull, however, significant structural failure shouldn't occur for another one hundred and seventy three years.”

 

Tares looked up from the datapad, “Well let's hope this trip doesn't take any longer than that. Why are you scanning the ship?”

 

“For the memories.” The droid remarked.

 

Tares fought the temptation to press the question further. He quickly finished up the message and transferred it to Atlas’s databanks, “Send this message once we arrive into Raxus’s orbit.” He remarked.

 

“I still have access to the Holonet, would you not prefer to send it immediately?” Atlas inquired.

 

Tares shook his head, “Best to let them wait a bit.”

 

The droid silent hovered for a few moments. Then, she let out what sounded like a synthesized sigh, “Very well, marking message as ‘crucial information to withhold for spiteful purposes.’ Do you require anything else?”

 

“Yes, access the Holonet and download any information you can find on Raxus Prime and the Jedi presence.” He requested, “I think I'll also take my saber along for this one.”

 

The hover droid descended a few inches down toward the table in front of Tares, “Your lightsaber has been charging for two years, three months, six days, twelve hours, and seven minutes.” She stated.

 

A small hatched opened up on the bottom of the droid. From the opening, a silver and golden cylinder dropped to the table, “I have transferred several manuals on traditional Jedi lightsaber technique, should you need to offset any diminished skills.” Atlas stated.

 

Tares remained silent and simply looked at the hilt. He hadn't used the weapon for several years. Taking into his hands, he moved the hilt around to feel the weight moving from one side of his palm to another. He then fully grasped the hilt and placed his thumb on the activation plate. With a single, swift push, a large, silver blade of light sprung from the hilt.

 

Atlas floated around the blade, analyzing the energy with her photoreceptors, “Pretty.” She stated….

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Having just finished depositing her bag and boots on one of the bunks in the crew quarters, Jaina was wandering down the main corridor when an extremely recognizable snap-hiss met her ears. With a brief look over her shoulder to see if she could spot where any of the ship's other occupants had gotten to, she rounded the corner. Her curiosity was instantly rewarded as she saw Tares standing in the hold, the light from his saber gleaming with luminescent purity. For a moment, she was struck by the look on his face. The silvery-white light threw the shadows on his face into sharp relief, and in his still-youthful features, Jaina glimpsed for a moment an immense weight. Soft, but cold, she felt through the Force the same regret that colored her own mind, that she had tasted in the touch of Raynuk across the distance. Its bittersweet scent filled her senses. She had forgotten that he had once stood in the shoes of Grandmaster, after a fashion. While his path had been drastically different from her own, his decision to leave the Order in favor of upholding his brother's company was, it dawned on her, not a purely selfless one.

 

The weariness he bore on his features found a kindred spirit in her own.

 

More than simple bodily exhaustion, it was the telltale sign of one whose eyes had seen too much, whose heart had borne up under inhuman grief and one tragedy too many. Her heart plummeted, and in spite of her own anguish, something in her wanted to comfort him, to draw out the stories that so many wouldn't begin to understand. A warmth had been slowly growing in Jaina over the past week, bolstered by Xae's reassurances and Aira's encouragement, fanned into a flame at the nearness of her daughter, and yet, as she tried to draw on that warmth to extend it to Tares, she felt utterly incapable of doing so.

 

The best she could seem to conjure was a tendril of presence, a small whisper in the Force that barely managed I'm here.

 

Perhaps he would understand her intent anyways.

 

Drawing her own saber from her belt, she ignited it and brought it against his, the violet blade illuminating the remainder of the room until the only shadows belonged to her and Tares--and the little hovering droid that flitted near his shoulder. The sizzle of the clashing blades threw tongues of light dancing across their faces, a kaleidoscope of argent and amethyst.

 

"It's just like riding a speeder, isn't it?" She smiled wryly. "I suppose the lessons we find most difficult to learn are the ones we never forget. I'm sure you of all people know about that."

 

As if brought forth by her words, the memories she fought constantly to keep at bay took over for just a moment. A cloud passed before Jaina's face before she tucked it away, disengaging the weapon and returning it to her belt with a casual smile that she hoped didn't look too forced. Unsettled and encouraged simultaneously by the heaviness that Tares carried, it was becoming increasingly apparent to Jaina that there were many more facets to the man before her than she had seen at arm's length from her days in the Order. The stories he could tell likely matched, at least, the pains of her own.

 

But now was not the time for such reminiscences. The journey to Raxus would be a couple days, and she had yet to become even minutely acquainted with her estranged daughter. With a heavy sigh, she leaned against the wall of the hold. She had no idea yet what she would tell the girl if she started asking questions. Would it be better to come forward with the truth of her identity? The vision of Tirzah she'd had on Tython came to life in her mind's eye, and the accusations it leveled caused her to draw her emotions in like a shield. No, she wouldn't lie, but neither would she be forthcoming. The Force would lead. It would have to.

 

These were conversations in which Jaina had no experience.

 

Thinking she heard the sound of footsteps in the main corridor, Jaina changed the subject abruptly, unwilling to make Tirzah the topic of a conversation she might interrupt. Fixing her standard smirk onto her face, she nodded in Tares' direction. "I think I have a training remote somewhere around here. Sorry there isn't more space, though. I could use the sparring match."

Edited January 4, 2017 by Guest

[Ary the Grey]

Aryian scowled lightly as he listened to Dahar. He'd thought this was going to be a much more fun trip than it was turning out to be. At least he wasn't half comatose waiting on someone else to say and do something, though.

 

"You ask a lot from me. Even more, you push the boundaries and duties of the Jedi Order Grandmaster. I will help you, but only because you helped me in my time of need, and I will caution you that the path you intend to walk could have grave far-reaching consequences for someone in your position."

 

Aryian produced a credit chit from his robes, a meager value on the chit itself. On the front was the demonination in white text, the back was darker in color, bearing the seal of the Galactic Alliance.

 

"Your first problem, and the easiest to fix, is the one of perception."

 

He turned the chit over slowly in his hands, clearly using it to make his point as he continued.

 

"You see the Force like a two sided coin. It is the problem many suffer from, even some who place full faith in the Dark Side. It is either black or white, Dark side or Light side. They also tend to see it as only usable from those perspectives. Indeed, the philosophies and rhetoric both Orders held in their common curriculum held tightly to these ideas, not wishing to expand their perception of what the Force really is, and its true nature as an energy that binds us all together. The Force itself, in fact, is almost sentient in nature, this has been documented time and again, the best evidence for this being visions given to individuals in the past whose resulting actions have tipped the balances for outcomes on a galactic scale. But...it also always tends to find an equilibrium."

 

He slipped the chit back into one of his pockets, and cast a shadow on the floor in front of one of the deck lights, the far side of which was near another light and hardly any shadow existed at all. It cast a nice gradient of light to dark though, which was the point.

 

"What if a so called Sith used their skills to destroy an enemy so as to save another? Say, through Force lightning, or forcibly breaking their spine through telekinesis. Is that not acting noble? Could it be considered an act of mercy in the Light? And what if a Jedi heals a known dictator, knowing full well they will continue to oppress their people, though not healing them would mean they would die. Is it more noble to save one life, or many? Would the opposite be considered an act of Darkness if it was known that one path was the true will of the Light Side?"

 

Aryian sat back down. He was lecturing again, and he hated lecturing, but he was also on a roll and wanted to finish strong.

 

"I believe that the Force simply is. It is our intentions and actions that determine if our use is of the Light or the Dark, and that none of it is as black and white as many would have you believe. The old rhetoric was designed to maintain control, to prevent members of the Order, either Order, from leaving or challenging the status quo. I also believe that one can tap into the same emotions that tend to fuel the Dark Side, and remain righteous. It is a knife's edge to walk, a difficult path, but it exists nonetheless. I understand the passion of the Dark Side, and also the importance of the purity of the Light. This is what separates me from either Order. This is why I left."

 

Aryian sighed, pausing for a while, allowing Dahar to mull over what had just been said.

 

"I don't use the Dark Side, just as I don't use the Light Side. I simply use the Force, and my actions can be defined as such through my intention. I can teach and understand both sides, but if you wish to walk the path that I walk, you will need to cast aside your preconceived notions and relearn what you once learned as rote mental muscle memory. And as the Grandmaster, it will be exceptionally difficult for you. But, I am patient."

 

Sitting back, Aryian relaxed, less lecturing and more speaking aloud as an afterthought to Dahar.

 

"I won't lie, it concerns me greatly that you still wish to do this while bearing the mantle of the Grandmaster. The...complications it could cause for the Order are numerous and severe. Just because I don't identify with them anymore doesn't mean I don't have a vested interest in seeing them survive and thrive."

 

And with that, the Grey Master shut up. His stomach burbled a bit, as Aryian thought of frozen custard.

[Tares Vortex]

Tares felt the muscles in his forearms naturally flex, his fingers tightening around the hilt to provide resistance in a block if necessary. He had been so focused on the feel of the blade in his hands, he hadn’t even noticed the extra occupant that had entered into the lounge. The feeling of a small tendril in the Force had awoken his reflexes right before an explosion of purple light hissed into existence to fill the spaces of the room his own blade missed.

 

He looked around at the surroundings first; seeing the dance between the silver and purple hues reflecting off of the various surfaces of the lounge. Then he traced the light to the sources and followed the purple blade down to its wielder. Jaina had quietly entered into the room while he had been lost in his hilt’s presence.

 

"It's just like riding a speeder, isn't it?" She observed. "I suppose the lessons we find most difficult to learn are the ones we never forget. I'm sure you of all people know about that."

 

Tares waited for a moment to reply. Something about Jaina’s ending statement carried a subtle, empathetic tone to it. He smiled, “Yes… assuming we recognize them as lessons at all. It can take a few retries for the lessons to sink in at times.”

 

Keeping his lightsaber still, upwards in the air, Tares reached out with the Force to feel the sensations of the immediate vicinity. The three Jedi on the ship shone brightly in the Force. He could almost look out and see them as bright spots through the bulkheads. He turned his focus toward Jaina.

He had never been good at reading and interpreting emotions through the Force. His brother had had more of an empathetic sense without external help. Tares had always been more apt at using the Force inward.

 

Still, Jaina’s presence offered complexities that made as unique a mark as a fingerprint. A certain tension emanated from her presence. It was a natural tension, like the body getting ready to engage or flee when threatened. The tension pulsed to a deep, controlled breath until it finally dissipated from Jaina’s calm.

Tares could finally appreciate a slightly degree of increased understanding into the experiences with which Jaina spoke. He had overheard her speaking to Tirzah back on Chandrila; introducing herself as if they were strangers meeting for the first time. Jaina had spoken as if all the physical and sensational similarities any third party observer could see between mother and daughter didn’t even exist.

 

He quickly disabled his lightsaber after Jaina and put the hilt onto the table, “Perhaps the hardest part is knowing what to do with the lesson once learned.” He remarked upon seeing the shift in tone and manner from Jaina. A series of footsteps seemed to be growing from the main corridor.

 

"I think I have a training remote somewhere around here. Sorry there isn't more space, though. I could use the sparring match." Jaina said after adorning her default smile.

 

Tares forced himself from the comfort of the padded passenger seat and stood up with a matching smile, “A training remote is always a good way to pass the time, especially without doing damage to the surrounding environment. Maybe we could use it to test the skills our little stowaway brings with her on this mission of great danger.” He said with a slight tease in his tone to lift the mood of the room.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Once the Trader’s Hope was underway in the reaches of hyperspace, Tirzah had finally had enough time to process all that had just swept her up. Part of her wondered just who this Jaina person was and why she’d been so quick, so insistent to speak up for her.

 

She was nearly thirteen and more than capable of making her own decisions. Okay, so maybe deciding to stow away with a bunch of Jedi on an adventure wasn’t the best decision she could have ever made, but at the time it made sense for reasons she couldn’t explain.

 

After hearing all of the discussion amidst the dull din of the spaceport coffee house, she was more than a little surprised she didn’t get shipped right back to the temple.

 

Then again, these Jedi don’t trust whatever is happening with the new Grandmaster, she realized. It was the first time she’d ever witnessed anything resembling divisiveness amongst the Order and she found it unsettling.

 

What use am I going to be hunting relics? she wondered dryly. Though she had to admit Jaina was probably right about being in the field being far more interesting than simply sitting listening to another Master or holochron drone on or watch another holovid of some long-forgotten conflict or battle or other.

 

Just...don’t get into trouble. Those had been Jaina’s exact words. Tirzah might not have spent much time actually piloting ships (for some reason everyone seemed to think it was a bad idea), but she knew their sounds, vibrations, smells, and feel.

 

She’d taken the top bunk in the back corner of the crew’s quarters once she’d found them as Jaina had instructed. Tirzah had no idea why she was following Jaina’s orders with the other woman was still the oldest-sounding Padawan she’d ever met, but still, it was Jaina's ship and Tirzah would respect that.

 

 

The girl didn’t stay put long, rolling her eyes with boredom and deciding to explore a bit more of the ship. When she opened the door, she briefly thought she heard the sound of lightsabers ignited, but then heard only voices coming from the lounge area of the ship.

 

Curiosity overriding her common sense, she headed towards the sound, her sharp ears picking up the conversation even before she’d made it that far down the corridor.

 

"I think I have a training remote somewhere around here. Sorry, there isn't more space, though. I could use the sparring match." She heard Jaina say. There was something really familiar about her voice and it wasn’t until Tirzah heard the woman speaking again without all of the background noise of Chandrila that she was able to place it.

 

“A training remote is always a good way to pass the time, especially without doing damage to the surrounding environment.” She heard the man reply. Tares, she reminded herself. “Maybe we could use it to test the skills our little stowaway brings with her on this mission of great danger.” He said with a slight tease in his tone to lift the mood of the room.

 

“I would need a lightsaber to do that Master Tares,” the girl answered before turning in Jaina’s direction, her white eyes fixed on the woman as she gently probed her with the Force.

 

Are you really the one that keeps speaking to me in my dreams? There was an intensity to the message as it carried through the Force to reach Jaina’s mind. The girl’s eyes narrowed slightly and she turned back to the Jedi Master.

 

“Best part? I never have to wear one of those stupid helmet things.”

[Skye Organa]

Once in hyperspace, I-Nine had several trips from the cargo hold to the medbay restocking it. Skye would work out of one of the hospitals and only use her ship as a backup if needed. She made herself a quick meal then headed into her training room. After being in a meditative sleep for so long she wanted to work all the kinks out. She activated a program that would put her through her paces, letting her go through her lightsaber forms and getting her muscle memory working again.

 

She let herself sink into the Force as she drew her amethyst blade. Skye would practice later with Heaven’s Mandate, the ornate long sword with the silver dragon on the hilt that was kept within a hidden compartment of her ship. Her lightsaber was easier to carry and conceal. Skye had specialized in Form III, and then had added Form IV to her skills. She used a loose combination of both forms, combining the acrobatics of Ataru with the more defensive techniques of Soresu. She went through her forms now, setting herself against the hologram training device. The realistic ‘enemy’ clashed blades with her, over and over. Skye flurried her blade, drawing her opponent in before she clashed their blades once more. By the time the program finished she was lathered with perspiration.

 

The Healer showered and changed into a fresh white tunic though this one was in a special armor weave. It never hurt to be prepared for any eventuality. She headed to the cockpit and slid into the pilots chair just before it beeped a warning that ”Phoenix” was coming out of hyperspace. The sense she got through the Force as of pain and suffering. She ran a search for the hospital nearest the scene and set the co-ordinates, sending her ship through the atmosphere of the City Planet.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

"Maybe we could use it to test the skills our little stowaway brings with her on this mission of great danger," Tares teased, giving gracious space for Tirzah to interrupt the present conversation as her soft footsteps grew closer in the corridor. Somehow, the knowing grin he bore as he spoke also served to inform Jaina that he knew there was more to the girl than met the eye. Had Jaina mentioned her name to Tares? Thinking back across her interactions with the former Master since their reunion on the Eternal Vigilance, she couldn't remember. It was irrelevant, though. In any case, Tirzah's likeness to Jaina would be a dead giveaway, and, for that reason, Jaina thanked the Force the girl couldn't see. The task before her was simply to soften the inevitable blow of her true relationship to the girl.

 

Not to mention, to keep her safe.

 

This could prove to be more difficult than she had anticipated.

 

Tares' statement came again to mind. "Perhaps the hardest part is knowing what to do with the lesson once learned." She turned the thought over and over. Irrefutable truth that it was, she couldn't even begin to think of all of the ways it applied to her current station in life.

 

But her train of thought was cut short by the soft soprano of the pre-teen. “I would need a lightsaber to do that, Master Tares."

 

When Tirzah finally rounded the corner, a flicker of the girl's presence touched Jaina's mind. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at the sincere curiosity she felt in Tirzah. Eagerly, she wielded the mystical energy of the Force with such innocence, such focused simplicity.

 

Then the direct missive came: are you really the one that keeps speaking to me in my dreams?

 

So her desperate attempts at sending her love into the void hadn't gone unheard. Maybe it was just the youthful fire that she and Tirzah shared, but something had directed those thoughts to her daughter in the end. The will of the Force, perhaps? She had to hold back a derisive snort.

 

“Best part? I never have to wear one of those stupid helmet things.”

 

A musical laugh escaped her, and she crossed the room, ducking into the repair bay, where her remote sat on the workbench. So Tirzah didn't take herself too seriously. Andon's wit bled into her every comment. Far beyond sobering, the thought brought her immense joy. As she turned back into the lounge, she tossed her lightsaber at the girl in a neat arc. "Catch!"

 

She reached out to Tirzah with an accompanying whisper through the Force. Dreams hold mere fragments of reality. What do your dreams tell you?

 

"So then, shall we have Tares put you through your paces, little cave-flitter?" she grinned, holding the remote extended in her hand, her thumb on the activation switch. "Helmet-less, if you prefer."

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

...We are going to Make Jedi Great Again! Thank you! I love you!

 

Xae stared at the transmission screen in disbelief of what she was seeing, trying to settle the queasiness that rose in her stomach as her mind processed Dahar's words and the reaction of the assembled Jedi. The Hope had picked up the transmission after leaving the EV for the second time to pick up the things Xae had left having fully expected to return to the ship to secure it elsewhere in the galaxy.

 

She honestly wished that her suspicions about Dahar's mental stability hadn't been given yet another charge to the powerpack. Still, she would wait for things to reveal themselves in the Force and trust in Kirlocca's judgment. She remained in the cockpit for an indeterminable amount of time, watching the coalescence of hyperspace as she used it to allow her thoughts to drift and wander.

 

This is why Il-Andon had released her from the temporal hold, she knew. The monolith had merely been a warm-up action. Something larger and darker was at play within the galaxy, not just with the Jedi, but she sensed elsewhere as well. There was a sensation she couldn't quite explain or escape that multiple shadow wars were in play, far beyond the typical conflicts that naturally arose within star systems and worlds. There was so much pain in the galaxy and beings as a whole seemed to have a penchant for creating more rather than looking for healing or harmonious solutions.

 

Maybe that's why what she was so on-edge about Dahar. The Jedi had the greatest potential to help the galaxy, but now something was causing a sense of conflict within their ranks, at least among the few that had been willing to join her on the road to Chandrila and Kirlocca. Her feelings had been the cause of that division, but she didn't feel any better about it even once Dahar's odd message to the Imperial Remnant Head of State came to light, or his open speech only served to further validate her misgivings.

 

Sensing the others further within the ship, she could feel conflict there as well, but there was an undercurrent of hope that heartened Xae. She may not be able to immediately help heal the current rift in the Jedi, but she could continue to give Jaina her trials and attend to helping where she could instead.

 

Focus on the problem in front of you, Il-Andon's voice echoed in the Force. The smallest impact can have wider reaching consequences greater than anything you could imagine. It all starts with one action, one step forward. Enough steps and you arrive at your destination.

 

With a sigh, Xae rose from the co-pilot's seat and headed towards the lounge area of the ship where she saw the other three had gathered. "Jaina, I have a task for you. Master Tares, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Jaina's young charge for a bit?"

[Tares Vortex]

"Certainly." Tares replied to Xae as she entered into the passenger space. He had gathered enough information to know Jaina was in the process of going through the knight trials. He assumed Xae had something in mind for Jaina that related to the task.

 

"Tirzah and I will get acquainted with this training remote," He continued, "Go do Jedi-related things." He finished with a smile.

 

Gently, he reached out through the Force and touched the smooth curves of the training remote in Jaina's extended hand. The remote lifted up and slowly floated to a center point in the space. The lounge was small, but the remote's location offered just enough room to maneuver. Tares felt around the internal mechanisms of the remote and altered the settings with the Force. After a few moments, the activate switch automatically engaged and the remote began to float on its own power.

 

"Okay, let me just see here..." Tares said while continuing the adjust the settings.

 

Atlas came floating in from the opposite side of the lounge. With an almost sentient intent, the training remote spun around in reacting and adjusted one of its many stun blasters toward the incoming droid. A stun bolt immediately erupted from the remote and washed over Atlas a meter away.

 

Atlas fell a half a meter in the air with a distinct, audible explitive Tares had never heard uttered from a droid. The droid quickly regained altitude and quickly began to approach the remote with speed, "Detecting hostile technology. Preparing ramming mode."

 

"Stand down, Atlas." Tares quickly let out, "Just a little issue with the remote's recognition software. It should be better now."

 

The droid halted and observed the remote. She jolted in the air in hesitation, but remained still, "I'm watching you." She said in the direction of the remote.

 

Tares looked over to Tirzah with a smile, "Okay. Remote, lightsaber, everything is good to go. Why don't you show off your multitasking skills and tell me about yourself while lasers are being shot as you. How long have you been with the Order?" He asked as the remote began to execute....

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Jaina felt Xae's approach before she heard it. "Jaina, I have a task for you. Master Tares, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Jaina's young charge for a bit?" She turned to see the diminutive Jedi standing in the doorway, her demeanor composed, but carrying a thread of exasperation and just a hint of dread. Why, she couldn't begin to say, but one way or another, she would likely find out. Rising, she stowed her hesitation to leave with a trusting nod toward Tares. As she passed through the doorway, she paused just a moment, and couldn't hold back the parting remark that bubbled up.

 

"Hey, kid, that thing doesn't have a training setting, so stay sharp. Dark Lords don't believe in safety," she admonished.

 

Was that too motherly? Maybe so. But she has a concussion, Force' sakes. Can't be too careful.

 

Her thoughts remained with Tirzah as she walked behind Xae around the curve of the corridor and into the cockpit. As she resumed the pilot's seat, she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her interlaced fingers, looking up at the other. "What's this task you have in mind?"

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

Xae didn't elaborate, but instead crossed over to where her smaller duffel was and handed it to Jaina. Inside was an array of various materials and parts. Then she handed her a small velveteen pouch filled with kaiburr crystals of varying sizes, shapes, and colors.

 

"You're to make three lightsabers, though not for you. Think of this more of a test of Force attunement rather than craftsmanship, though that is important as well. Our weapons are deeply personal since we usually craft our own, leaving a piece of us attuned to the crystal inside. I won't tell you who you're making them for or provide any details. My only instruction is to create three from any available materials."

 

Once the task had been set before Jaina, Xae left the woman alone, curious to see what she could come up with.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Tirzah's hand shot out, deftly catching the lightsaber as it was thrown her way and carefully ran her fingers along the hilt using them to "see" the weapon in her hands and feel the weight. Ever mindful of the activator switch and emitter direction, she smiled as she felt the etchings. "Your lightsaber is very pretty Jaina," she smiled.

 

I don't know...only that someone is coming for me...someone that knows me, but I don't know them. It's why I wanted to get off of Tython. They can't find me if I'm not where I'm supposed to be, she responded, not turning from Tares's direction.

 

Then she heard the Jedi Knight from earlier, Xae, enter her footfalls barely audible as though she'd spent years practicing stealth for one reason or another. "Jaina, I have a task for you. Master Tares, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Jaina's young charge for a bit?"

 

"Certainly," came the kind response. "Tirzah and I will get acquainted with this training remote. Go do Jedi-related things."

 

"Hey, kid, that thing doesn't have a training setting, so stay sharp. Dark Lords don't believe in safety," she heard Jaina say before passing her to follow Xae further into the ship.

 

Tirzah turned behind her, confusion coming through What? Dark...Lords? A Sith? After everything she'd witnessed on Chandrila it was a bit shocking to hear that the Exorcist had brought a Sith on board. Dismissing the thought and trusting that the Knight knew better than she did what was doing.

 

After a slight bit of confusion, Tares announced that the remote was ready and so she fell into the basic stance of Form 1. "Five years," she answered as the remote discharged, catching the bolt with the blade.

[Tares Vortex]

Tares watched as the young girl grasped the lightsaber and assumed a typical ready stance. She moved naturally, without any sort of hesitation or doubt. He obviously didn't know the full story between her and Jaina, but some things were becoming clearer. The Force revealed a stranger sensation between them. It was almost as if they were reaching out to each other without even directly knowing.

 

He watched and listened as Tirzah spoke. She had similar mannerisms to Jaina, even in the way she handled the lightsaber. “Five years.” She replied in answer to his probing question.

 

Tares decided to probe a bit deeper, “How did you end up with the Jedi? Did your parents leave you with them?” He asked….

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Deflecting another shot, only to get caught by a successive secondary blast, Tirzah muttered a Hapan curse she'd picked up from one of the older kids in one foster home or another. "Uh...my adoptive mom dropped me with them then jetted off in search for answers to some deep seeded questions about her past or some such...umm...stuff," she stopped herself from cursing again since she remembered she was in the presence of a Jedi Master.

 

"My parents must have died, or didn't want me since I wasn't some 'perfect' little baby they were expecting." Another bolt deflected, then successful parries as a complex series of follow-up blasts spewed from the remote. She shocked herself with the last admission, a deep-seeded fear and insecurity she'd never before voiced out loud, yet there it was, out in the open. Another bolt flashed through the air and Tirzah just barely dodged it as her mind shifted on the sudden revelation. "The foster families didn't want me either, and not even my last 'forever home' lasted. The Jedi are the longest I've been a part of anything resembling a family, but it's more like the orphanage was, except we get lightsabers."

 

She deactivated the lightsaber blade and handed it back to him as the reality of what she'd just done began to set in. "I'm sorry...I don't know what I meant by any of that. It just kind of came out..."

[Tares Vortex]

Tares stood quietly in the corner to observe Tirzah as she defended against the training remote. Her stance and movements did little to betray her internal status. She started with the efficient and refined movements that came from years of Form I practice and drills. Her natural reflexes quickly gave way to signs of frustration, however, as she punctuated a missed hit with a foreign curse.

 

In the Force, Tares could feel the girl wavering between focus on the task at hand and something internal that wanted to steal that focus away. Tirzah explained her brief history with the Jedi Order: her adoptive mother, her biological parents, all tied with subtle hints of sarcasm. While the details were scant, Tares was continuing to fill in some of the details of the rift between Jaina and Tirzah. They acted as strangers because, somehow, through some series of events or choices, they virtually were strangers.

 

Tirzah's focus all but seemed to evaporate as she mentioned her biological parents. She continued with some dialogue and a bare evasion of one final bolt before returning the lightsaber to Tares's hand. "I'm sorry... I don't know what I meant by any of that. It just kind of came out..." She admitted.

 

Tares had seen many hopefuls and padawans struggle through past experiences and emotions during these types of exercises. In the past, he would have naturally spouted something off about "calming the mind" and "listening to the Force." Now, however, he couldn't find the faith in such words. He wrestled with his own demons, even as a former Jedi Master. How could he tell someone else to do the very thing he struggled with on a daily basis?

 

He couldn't necessarily offer Tirzah empathetic understanding or advice either. A few simple words wouldn't fix her past or the feelings she no doubt had, even if she didn't recognize them. Lost family and regret were topics that many traditional Jedi struggled with at one time or another; being abandoned with the Jedi at a young age, even when done under the best of intentions, still left many a Jedi dealing with the aftermath. Each individual worked through the effects or ventured into the territory most Jedi referred to as the dark side.

 

"It sounds like you had an emotional outburst: an episode where emotions just let themselves be known without your conscious choice." He explained, "I have them every now and then, myself. Although, mine usually end with the need for a lot of expensive repairs to droids."

 

Tares took a step forward from his observation spot and gently handed the deactivated hilt back into Tirzah's grip.

 

"The Jedi Code states, 'There is no emotion.'" He continued, "In my experience, that's high quality bantha fodder. Emotions will remain, no matter what. The only control you have is how you attempt to handle them. Some try to suppress them, others understand them, but those who don't choose are usually controlled by them. You make your own conscious choice and try to follow through: sometimes it will be easy, other times not so much. But it starts with that choice."

 

Taking a moment to deactivate the training remote, Tares took a step back to bridge the distance between Tirzah and the remote, "You and I are different: I have sight, you do not. And yet, we can accomplish the exact same thing. Our methods and senses our different, but the outcome is the same. That fact is an aspect that's a part of you, that you have accepted and have decided to adapted to. Your past, your experiences, your emotions are also a part of you. These things are no different: you accept them, adapt to them, utilize them, or you don't. All that starts with a conscious choice."

 

He flicked the training remote to life once more and withdrew back to his position, "Again, but this time, don't let the emotions make the choice for you. You decide...."

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Three? It had been years, decades, even, since Jaina had needed to set her mind to the mechanical task of crafting a saber. The last weapon she had crafted was Tajazidai, which had required a very different set of skills and energies. Even the thought of the task brought the expansive deserts of Korriban to fill her mind, and she could almost feel the stinging backside of Bishop's hand. Building three lightsabers seemed pointless, even wasteful of the time that she had in the relative quiet of this journey to Raxus Prime. But she had come to trust the judgement of the small Exorcist who had taken up her case. Gratitude required that she comply with the request.

 

Gathering the duffel and the small drawstring pouch, she padded down the corridor in the direction of the repair bay, glancing in the open door of the lounge as she passed it. Tares was speaking to the girl, holding the hilt of Jaina's saber in his hand. She paused on the far side of the door, waiting where neither of the lounge's occupants would be overtly made aware of her presence, to eavesdrop on the subject of their conversation. "Your past, your experiences, your emotions are also a part of you. These things are no different: you accept them, adapt to them, utilize them, or you don't. All that starts with a conscious choice."

 

Her knuckles turned white as she clutched the bags in her hands, ducking into the repair bay and pressing the control that would seal both entrances. Whatever the genesis of his admonition to Tirzah, it applied deeply to Jaina's own emotional state. The Dark Side was fueled by fear, anger, hatred, and as such, these negative emotions were often feared by the Jedi, to the extent that the Jedi eliminated all emotion from the realm of acceptability. But the once-Jedi Master was right, and Jaina couldn't help but feel validated in her own belief after hearing his: that emotions themselves were neither positive nor negative, good nor evil. Much like the Force, emotions simply were.

 

Perhaps there was a way to be passionate and serene, emotive and reasonable--to be a Jedi, and uncompromising in her own conscience. Perhaps all it took, like Tares said, was a conscious choice. The hopeful flame in her heart danced at the thought.

 

She set the bags down on the workbench, her hope gleaming in the Force and serving to settle and focus her. Digging into the bag of components, she pulled out a series of relevant parts: silver, gold, chrome casings, power cells, beam splitters, cycling field energizers, stabilizing rings, modulation circuits, and energy gates. She laid them all out before her and set the duffel aside, arranging her materials into organized piles before her. A Force attunement exercise, was it? Then the Force would have to give instruction as to their intended recipients. But she would worry about that when the time came to choose the crystals. First, it was time for mechanical tinkering. Her inner Rogue Squadron pilot rejoiced.

 

She made short work of the task before her, welding components into place, masterfully assembling the parts inside three different casings and double-checking to ensure that the emitter matrices weren't inverted.

 

The first saber was bronze-plated, with a gold filigree winding around the slight divot below the emitter matrix. An etched ribbing formed a grip between switch and pommel, and around these, she wrapped a strip of rich cognac-colored leather.

 

The second saber was crafted in shoto-style, the hilt about half the length of a regular saber's. Plated with silver, sleek from emitter to pommel, and remarkably simple, it bore a oval-shaped cutout grip inlaid in black on one half of the saber, and a blade guard that curved up on the same side of the emitter matrix.

 

A steel concoction of gunmetal and obsidian comprised the third, its tip bearing four curved prongs around the sides of where the blade would eventually be. A somewhat sinister quality surrounded it, its components jagged and sharp-edged.

 

She cleared the workbench of extra materials, and dug into the tiny bag. Inside, an array of kyber crystals glittered in the artificial light from overhead. Where in the galaxy did she get all of these? Kyber crystals didn't grow on trees, and she held in her hand enough crystals to compose an entire arsenal of lightsabers. She shook her head, a grin on her face. The Exorcist seemed to be able to procure anything at need, her determination boundless. Resolving to ask Xae later, Jaina emptied the contents of the bag onto the bench before her. She had absolute confidence in her craftsmanship. Choosing, and attuning, the crystals would indeed be the most difficult part. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, she reached into the Force. The thrumming of the ship's engines played a lullaby to her physical senses. Like diving off the side of the boat on her home planet of Chad, her mind and body were enveloped by the Force, subsumed in the energy field. Much more than casual redirection of the mystical energy, she was given over to it, molded by it. The crystals lifted off the workbench and danced through the air in a circular pattern as she held her hands palm-out before her. The light, shining through from overhead, splayed rainbows across her face as the crystals passed through it. Jaina closed her eyes, plunging even deeper into the waves of the Force, following the river down its course, to see where it led.

 

A hot desert wind swirled around her, sand stinging her face, her lips blistering in the heat. A dark voice filled her mind. "When you control your lightsaber correctly, your mind should tell you what to do and direct the Force to act accordingly. That way you will be fighting with your mind, attacking where you wish to attack, while the Force predicts, adapts, and powers your strikes. With practice you will learn to use your anger to control the Force. You are better than you have shown, make it known..."

 

A series of heavy rocks flew toward her, and she easily deflected three of them. A fourth, slightly smaller, arced through the air towards her face, and her reflexes moved to counter, the stone falling neatly into her palm. A crystal entered her grasp, and she moved to set it atop the obsidian saber.

 

Breezy, open meadows... amber and emerald, clashing in earnest...the smell of sizzling skin and severed bone...a cocky grin, the emerald saber hovering millimeters away from its opponent's ear... "Check-mate." The two brown-robed combatants, bearing wide grins, bowed to one another. She reached a hand toward the face of her husband, desperate fingers clamoring for his touch, but the meadow began to fade. Jaina's fingers mirrored those in her vision, and instead of Andon's skin, she clasped one of the crystals hovering around her, then set it in line with the shoto.

 

A woman with jet-black hair led a curly-headed child by the hand, walking into the Temple on Tython. She knelt, grasping the girl by the shoulders, looking into her eyes earnestly. "I have to find them," she whispered. "I'll come back when I do." The little girl teared up as the woman began to walk away, but didn't cry out. The hollow look in her eye bespoke an all-too-familiar series of events. Jaina's heart fluttered, and Tares' words came back to mind. "...your past, your experiences, your emotions are also a part of you..."

 

But not at the expense of the present.

 

Knowing turquoise eyes blinked out of the darkness, and Jaina suddenly saw Xae before her. In one hand, she held up a small holo of Andon, holding baby Tirzah, and in the other, she held a holo of Tirzah and Tares, the former wearing a determined smile and gripping Jaina's lightsaber, the latter emanating calm and quiet wisdom.

 

CHOOSE.

 

The word startled her out of her vision, and her eyes snapped open. The crystals clattered to the ground around her, but one of them fell neatly into her open palm. Setting it in line with the bronze saber, she gathered the rest, lifting them in the Force and setting them neatly back into the velvet bag.

 

Three visions. Three sabers. Too perfect to be coincidental. Past experiences and emotions. She seemed to be at a constant crossroads, choosing between picking up the pieces of her past and starting afresh with what she had before her. Bishop and the unforgiving lessons she learned on Korriban were a part of her past that had molded her, that she had already made her peace with, but carried with her in her skills and tendencies. She set the ruby-colored crystal into the obsidian saber, feeling it humming in the Force, and an arc of electricity sprang from her fingers, cementing the crystal in place, imbuing it with the darkness of her history, with the hatred that Bishop had taught her, with the anger that surrounded Raynuk like a cloud, with the fear she felt from Searcy at his every confrontation with a Master of Light. But it wasn't enough: her anger was too weak. When Raynuk's face sprang to mind, all that was left was a bitter remorse, a hope of reconciliation, the sweet-and-sour regret that had become so familiar. Her own regret was the final piece of the puzzle, and the dark energy that had swirled from her was banished by the flickering tongue of fire that had been rekindled in her soul. As she pressed the activation switch, a glowing magma-colored blade erupted, casting shadows from the four prongs on the walls around her. Flame of Hope, she thought solemnly. From darkness, let there be light.

 

The shoto, feeling small in the palm of her hand, received an emerald crystal, matching the laughing gleam in her husband's eyes as he did what he did best: defy death, time and time again, for the sake of justice, for the sake of the ones he loved. All of the love that she still carried for him welled up within her, and silent tears streamed down her face as she tenderly poured the depth of her emotion into the crystal. The bonded energy created by the love she had shared with him had been returned to the Force, strengthening all life, and creating something new and beautiful between them. The vision of Tirzah swam before her eyes, and suddenly she knew. This saber, holding the memories of the best times she had shared with Andon, was for her daughter. It felt, somehow, like coming home. Pressing the ignition plate on the small saber, a brilliant, jungle-green blade shot out. Together, we are one with the Force, her mind whispered into the ether. Beacon of Life.

 

Taking the aquamarine crystal, she set it inside the bronze saber. There was no question as to the purpose of this one, either. No memories of the past would be kept here, no sorrowful regret, no darkness. Here, she poured all of her will to stand for light, to create balance. Xae, compelling, unwavering, would receive this one. Her ability to listen to the Force, to speak what was needed, had been unparalleled in Jaina's life, and she'd only known the woman such a short time. A crackling, sizzling joy welled up inside of her, and on the line where calm and peace met the will to fight, there she spun the crystal. Past and future met in a brilliant flash, and Jaina knew, somehow, that the future would--no, must--win.

 

The blade sprang to life, almost of its own accord. Its brilliant teal, reminiscent of Xae-Lin's eyes, drew a laugh from somewhere deep within Jaina that she couldn't hold back. Cleaver of Guises, she breathed, casting the rest of her vision back into the Force. You will not stand for falsehood.

 

Gathering the sabers in her hands, she sat on the floor, utterly spent, staring at the completed project in her hands. Reaching out for Xae, she murmured, it is done, before she lay on her side, tucking them under her arm, and fell immediately asleep.

[Delta73]

Delta paused at the doors to Qaela’s suite, hesitating with his hand over the door panel. His heart was strangely racing, nerves nearly overcoming his ambitions for a wonderful night, Delta paused and listened, the lady was still up, perhaps getting changed into something more proactive. Delta forced a grin and spun on his heel towards the commissary. He suddenly felt so very cold, a shiver caught him as he stepped into the turbolift and he could feel the biting winds of a dark Outremeir midnight so many years ago.

 

The biting wind tore through his armour and brought the silent terror of that nearly two month long conflict screaming back. As a part of an advanced infiltration squad under the direct command of Jedi General Gansarit Faltornis sent to eliminate the Techno-Union production facility on that snow covered world. Delta forced the shivered to stop as he walked into the commissary and selected a few bottles of champagne to bring back to the room. But just as soon as his mind had left the subject behind, he was ripped back into the past. It could have been the flash in the pan of the cook that reminded him of a burning, falling Venator Destroyer, or the wind from a hissing door that twitched the hairs at the back of his neck. Either way he was no longer on the Marie, but far away, where love had first struck his cold heart.

 

Her hand was warm. small, thin fingered, and altogether lovely. Though clones had received a very basic flash training on love and its consequences on mission efficiency, Delta had not known how powerful a force it had been. He felt the light tug of her hand and the feeling of sudden weightlessness of the grip of the force and Delta was back on his feet.

 

“Back on your feet Seven-Three, can’t have you lounging about while there is direct mortar fire on our position.” She winked one ice blue eye and Delta fell into a crouch beside her. Bringing his DC-17 to bear on the distant Techno Union emplacement. He knew he wasn’t the only clone under her command that had developed an instant crush on the newly knighted woman. Her old master, Gansarit, was in overall command, but she had taken to accompanying the ARC troopers and republic commandos on their missions. This had vastly improved their results. Whenever Delta looked at her he could hear the warning from his trainer, Dred Priest, in the Cuy'val Dar of Kamino.

“Never fall in love. You are expendable, remember that. Love complicates duty.”

 

Though Delta made sure to ignore this order because it allowed him some degree of individuality. As much as you could have when you are named a number.

 

He squeezed the trigger and the mortar team fell silent.

 

With an embarrassing thunk, Delta’s blonde head crashed into Qaela’s door and he was brought out of his stupor. He cursed as some of the opened champagne sloshed over his armour. He rolled his eyes took a long swig and marched like a man to the gallows into Qaela’s room.

 

"Hey babe wanna kith?" He purposely slurredhis words in an effort for comedic appeal. But it still felt like walking into a rancor den.

[Jaina Jade Skywalker]

Tirzah blinked in surprise to hear Tares admit to having similar struggles with his emotions and was truly taken aback when he claimed the code that had been drilled into her by one instructor or another over the past five years was utter druk.

 

Mulling over his words, she stood once more as he indicated she should try again, this time to decide to leave the emotions out of it. Maybe he shouldn't ask so many personal questions... she thought to herself as she squared off, changing her breathing slightly like Master Ronta had taught her to help with these "emotional teenage outbursts" as he'd referred to them. She didn't like not being in control, so it fell to her to act on the choice Master Tares had presented her.

 

Finding her center once more she resumed her practice and wondered what tests would come next.

[Tares Vortex]

Watching in silence as Tirzah returned to the exercise, Tares analyzed her movements. She had a degree of the same form of movement as Jaina. Even though Tares hadn't met Jaina in practice or in battle, he had always observed a certain way that she carried herself. Her style commanded respect. Tirzah had hints of these similar traits peeking through.

 

"Good." He said after she went through the exercise a bit longer. He had observed enough for the moment. Should anything unexpected come up on Raxus Prime, Tares was confident Tirzah would be able to adapt with the group. "You have learned well thus far. You do the Order proud. I think that's it for the night."

 

Not wanting to let the conversation wander into dangerous territory, Tares took a step forward once more. Through the Force, he reached out and retrieved both the training remote and Jaina's lightsaber. He gave a slight, curt nod and proceeded to step toward the exit.

 

A few steps in, something nagged at the hairs in his neck. A feeling of weight grew in his stomach. Before departing the passenger lounge, he turned back while standing at the foot of the corridor.

 

It was clear she saw herself as an orphan. Even though Tares knew her mother was just a few meters away, that didn't take away from the reality her experiences had given her. It was a similar reality he and Drake had shared while growing up. He had fought the temptation to offer empathy since he knew from personal experience that it most often was unwelcome and ineffective. Still, it never hurt to try.

 

One hand grasped the bulk head with a finger lightly tapping in silence before Tares added, "I normally try not to offer psychological advice, but for what it's worth: growing up without knowing your parents is rough, but survivable. My brother and I lost our parents long before I joined the Jedi. The feelings... they stay, but they also change. Time and experience help."

 

"Learning to choose and commit helps even more." He finished....