Space

[Beck Pilon]

Beck simply smiled and nodded his head before responding.

 

"Good, we'll be dropping out of hyperspace shortly. Head to the hangar and get with your team. Good luck Lieutenant Khargav."

 

With that, Beck turns around and began to head back up to the bridge. He would lead from there until the commando units hit the surface. Once all that begins, he would jump on a landing shuttle and join the rest of the troops for deployment. He was itching for a fight and hadn't seen one in far too long. This was about to be good.

[Sheog the Mad]

“Well there is no harm in investigating what destroyed your love, Karys. Putting that bit of your life in order will strengthen your connection to the dark side. Disordered anger and grief are strong for a short while, but putter out like a disembowled ewok…”

 

The young girl tossed a handful of protein cubes at the Sith, guiding them in a trainlike line with the force towards his mouth, while making little chooing sounds between her giggles,

 

“Open up the tunneeeeeelllll! Nutrition Delivery for Mister Sith Almost-Lord-Somedayyyy”

 

The hyperspace alarm triggered, alerting a near approach to their destination

 

[Exodus]

“What do you have for me, Ghost?”

“... Lord Exodus? … The mission was a success?”

“Your doubts are now plainly obvious. You had a grave picked out for me?”

“You are, terrifying, sir. We saw the broadcast.”

“Come out with it, Ghost, you're trying my patience.”

“Yes my Lord, of course. Early reports have indicated that Master Sheog still roams and was last seen on Korriban with several others.”

“Aah, the Mad Hutt lives. Good.”

“Master Raynuk has been spotted alongside some notable Sith of past, but locations have been few and far between.”

“Send out the Hounds, I want to know where, immediately.”

“... And what of Lady Keenava?”

“Send me the feed of her session and have her reconvene with me on Korriban. It is time she proves herself worthy.”

“Ghost, have you heard from our new friend Kain?”

“No sir. The ships went down, and it is likely that he has with them..”

 

 

The wheels turned and the hours climbed, Exodus traversed the spaces between time and took the moments of quiet to feed on the happenings of the galaxy. His eyes and ears were in places people would least suspect, and his return to the face of the Sith continued to feel like a final stand against their extinction. He wondered over the reasons that the other Masters failed to step forward and eliminate the threats that presented themselves. He questioned the reasons thoroughly and wondered if the men and women he once knew had turned just as the Imperials had. There were few he could trust, and perhaps on Korriban, he could find the answers he needed. The Dark Lord breathed a cool and heavy sigh through his nostrils, his mind heavy with schemes, his body urging for the infinite dark it had become so accustomed too. The Lightbreaker would soon find its way to the Homeworld of the Sith, where it would all begin.

 

 

"Machine. Wake me when we arrive.."

[Emily]

The Shadow's Shine sped through hyperspace, taking a direct route for the Core.

 

Onboard, Emily decided to make the most of the downtime to do some research. She had already called the hospital on Coruscant and made an appointment, so now she grabbed her bag and headed to her cabin. Setting it down next to the desk, she pulled up a galactic library and downloaded a few books on human pregnancy. She wanted to know what to expect now that she was expecting. Propping her feet up, she began to read as the parsecs flew by.

[Keenava Dira]

Something was off. Keenava listened to the feeling of the room. The vents and rumbling of the exhaust systems were rattling as usual. That wasn’t it. Keenava sniffed at the air and adjusted her position to catch the disturbance, but nothing seemed to work. She unwrapped the sandwich in her hands, peeled back the mask from her face and bit into the fluffy bread. The crust-less frame gave way to a picture of sublime flavor and despite her composure, Keenava’s eyes widened with delight. Keenava had never had deli meat before. And the craft of the ingredients together reminded her of medium-rare ronto steaks. She devoured the sandwich in seconds and considered going for another, but decided against it. The odd feeling she felt before, intensified, and her lekku twitched a little under her hood.

 

Rumo’s usual optimism waned, considering something else. Keenava was a little vague on the why, but she could see that his bright expression was muted and she was starting to understand where her awkward feeling was coming from. His gesture of kindness took her off guard and she considered a flightier response, but she was in control of her impulses. His lips touched her hand without challenge and Keenava’s confusion grew.

 

Wasn’t this the man that dumped her out of a ship? Wasn’t this the man that spoke with the voice of Exodus? Why was he showing this much care? Did he truly care?

Whirling thoughts consumed Keenava’s head before she stood, surprising herself, and crossed to Rumo. She smiled under her mask and looked at the man. He fidgeted as she drew near and retreated a little, but Keenava brooked no contention. Her eyes found him and he stopped.

 

“Thank you,” Keenava said. It was a simple consolation, but something that she felt was appropriate. “I appreciate the sandwich and I appreciate what you have done. And, Exodus permitting, I will surely visit.”

 

Rumo smiled, although his face was a still a little pale from her closeness. He reached his hand up to brush hair out of his face and tried to bow, but caught himself before the gesture carried on too far. “It was no problem Lady Keenava. Now, I have been informed that you are to meet Exodus on Korriban. You may visit other places, briefly, but you must arrive on Korriban soon. Exodus will be waiting.”

 

…

 

…

 

And that was the last thing Keenava remembered before waking up in space.

 

The Twi’lek awoke, slightly groggy, in an unmarked cargo vessel that was bound for Coruscant. She couldn’t remember why she was on a vessel headed for Coruscant. But her bag was there, so it was a good place to start. She took a moment or two to check and see that everything was still where it should be and then found an empty seat nearby to plop down on. Exhaustion and weariness were still walking hand in hand with her and she needed to recoup before getting down to business.

 

She sighed as she sat and turned her head to look out a nearby viewport. And when she did, a small plate caught her eye. It was on a side table near the chair she sat on. The plate was covered in sandwiches.

 

_________________________

_________________________

 

A few days passed.

 

Keenava was somewhat satisfied with her work. She really wanted to get her piercings back and she wanted to find someone that could duplicate or improve upon her tattoo design, but she hadn’t gotten far. She narrowly avoided running into her sister when she retrieved her saber on Talus and put a rain check on their reunion until after she completed what Exodus wanted her to do. She grabbed her bag from the Last Call and saw that it was looking for someone to pledge for ownership. Keenava threw her hat in as a long-time employee and friend to Kheldar, but she figured that idea was a longshot.

 

Still, she felt she was as ready as she could be. She had her saber and all her things.

 

It was time to get to Korriban and check in.

[Raynuk Montar]

By the time Raia quietly wandered into the cockpit, Raynuk had managed to recover a good portion of data from the datapad he recovered on Dathomir, and was just beginning to look into it and compare it to what he had already gathered, his back to the doorway and feet up on the console in a relaxed position. 2-VSH had relegated himself to silently piloting the Ravenhammer and giving periodical updates when they were warranted. He had of course heard the girl coming into the cockpit, but did not immediately turn and acknowledge her until her voice found her again, meek as it was. His gaze lifted from the readout before him, focusing on some of the stars as they flashed by outside the front viewport. A small smile crossed his face before he shifted, dropping his feet to the floor and turned to face her as he stood up.

 

"Words emboldened by anger, fear and confusion can at times be far more pointed than the speaker ever thought possible. But I know and understand those emotions, and what they can produce. Had I thought you truly meant the words you said in your heart and in your mind, you would not be standing here right now." He stated rather simply. "But..apologies as a whole are crutches for the mind. An apology does not remove the event from existence; the damage still happens. An apology serves to only attempt to cover up a wound."

 

Raia was, for the time being at least, his responsibility; his 'apprentice'. Even though he could already recognize that her path would not be of the Warrior as his was, he could still teach her, mentor her, and guide her. But she was more than just another apprentice, she was perhaps the first in his years as a Sith that he looked at as an investment in the future, both of himself, the Sith as a whole, and the galaxy. She was an apprentice. She was a daughter in another version of his life, and now she was an orphaned teenager.... much as he had been so many years ago. All of that meant that Raynuk was forging a new path forward, one where he treated her both as an apprentice, and cared for her like a daughter. And as such, he wanted her to grow confident and unafraid of mistakes.

 

"With that said however... I do not need an apology." The pause that Raynuk had taken to contemplate had at least softened his face. "For there was no harm done. It is in the past, and without it, you would not be standing here as you are now. As for the nickname... I think you were right Raia; You are not the 'little one' anymore, a fact that I can see now within your eyes. You have grown up much more than you anticipated over the past month, and such progress deserves recognition. But to answer your question; Yes, I will gladly make that dish again."

 

Reaching out, he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around, gently giving her a push forward out of the cockpit and back into the lounge area. "Let us know when we're a minute out 2V." he called as he left, elliciting a mere wave of 'yeah yeah sure whatever' from his droid.

 

Raynuk continued through the lounge to the galley, passing Raia along the way as he set to work in preparing the cheesy noodle dish once more. He was sadly lacking some of the same ingredients that he had been able to select from back in Alora's apartment on Coruscant, but never one to let such a challenge stop him, Raynuk adapted. A few minutes later, a large pot filled with water was set to boil, and eggs, some milk, and a dash of salt were combined in a bowl on the counter. it was at this point that an idea struck Raynuk, and he turned to Raia, who was sitting between the two tuk'atas, silently watching. But he could see she was still struggling with not thinking about Dathomir and what had transpired.

 

"Hey" he called to her, "Want to learn how to make it? I might not always be here to make it for you."

 

With a silent nod for an answer, he waved her over. He would share the recipe and its steps with her, and even have her perform some of the steps, all with the goal of giving her something else, anything else, to think and focus on. So with Raia as his helper, he launched back into the process of preparing the meal, almost constantly talking to her about what steps were next, what they entailed, pointing out when he was changing ingredients from both versions of it, and when she was cutting up or mixing ingredients, giving her positive critiques. He again pulled a container of green vegetables from the stores to substitute into the recipe as he had done on Coruscant, and even decided to cook up three nerf-steaks; one each for the tuk'atas, and the third getting diced up to add to the meal after the bacon from Coruscant somehow wormed its way into the mostly one sided conversation. The other distinction in this meal came in the form of cheeses; sadly Raynuk only had two choices of cheeses that were both more bland than both the ones he used on Coruscant, and those that the original recipe called for, but they would serve the purpose.

 

With the cooking completed. Raynuk turned to grab some dishes from the cabinet, and suggested Raia be the first to taste the new meal she had helped prepare; to give her satisfaction and perhaps even pride in what she had made. With a bowl in hand, he filled it nearly to the brim with the meal, and then grabbed the other two steaks and put them on smaller plates. Moving to the lounge, he gave the tuk'atas the steaks and then sat down roughly on one of the couches and began eating, finding that this version was quite good despite the lack of ingredients, then looked up at Raia who was cradling her own meal in her hands.

 

"So what do you think Raia? As good as you remembered?" he asked with a hint of a smile.

 

He would keep giving her openings to talk, knowing that when she was ready, she would take the chance. Her family, her clan, her short time with Emily following her departure, the Force-dream with Tirzah, the destruction of Dathomir, the fight in the canyon, Faust, the painting in her room; the two had not gotten much chance to talk about any of it since it had all happened. And there was also the issue of her tattoo, which he had noticed during their trip back to the ship had continued to grow again. Wherever a conversation lead, he would be ready.

 

He owed her that much.

[Lux]

Lux’s forefinger cramped for a second before it extended. Her forehead was clammy and her eyes were just starting to regain their original composure. Here, in the solace of her quarters, she was finally able to let go of everything. Her walls came tumbling down. And in one moment of crystal clear silence, a streak of brilliant glass slipped across her trembling, slightly pale, cheeks.

 

The faces of Craig, Lucinda, and numerable others streamed past her. Their faces were bloody, disjointed, and horrifically mangled. Her breathing shortened. Sharp inhalations were met with equally sharp exhalations and Lux felt as if she needed to press her hand against her chest to keep her heart from exploding from it. With the skin of her palm now flat against her unarmored frame, she could feel the staccato beats of her lifeline and wondered for a second if she would die. Had she been holding too much in for too long? Would she die of a heart attack? Would anyone miss her aside from her pet?

Lux reached her right hand to her unbound hair and brushed a few wandering threads until they were back behind her right ear. When that was done, she started to idly scratch at the back of her left hand. Her eyes, slightly glazed with saline echoes, looked off into the distant durasteel wall, half-expecting to see something. Anything. It didn’t matter.

 

The looming hand of inconsistency beeped at her through her datapad. It served as the avatar of incongruence. Her appointments flew by and each one dinged an alarm on her device. Each one registered at a deep mental level that Lux couldn’t possibly change. Each one triggered her hands and wracked her nerves. Eventually, she had to remove the thing just to keep herself sane. But, even with denial, she was still riddled with a feeling that sat thick in her stomach. Her job duties allowed her to travel and her boss permitted her vacation. So, why did she have the sneaking suspicion that she was going to lose her job? Her pet was being cared for by a professional pet agency. Why did she think that they were going to steal her things and kill her pet? Maybe they didn’t feed him enough. Maybe they fed him too much. I don’t think it was wise to leave him there like that. Mr. Whalever is fine. He’ll be fine. Will he?

 

Her nerves threatened to collapse her failing mind and send her into a stress induced nap. A sharp pain developed in the front center of her forehead and she immediately reached for it and put pressure on the area in a futile attempt to mitigate the damage. Just when she was about to give in to the threat that her nerves provided, another beep signaled on her datapad.

Don’t look at it. Don’t…

 

Lux’s instinctive gait was impassive. And before she could regain control of her habitual locomotion, her eyes were once again glued to her wrist datapad. It lay on the cot, clumsily adjacent to the pillow. It read, in big blue letters, “SATURDAY: 11 PM WORKOUT.”

Wait? It’s Saturday?

 

Lux shook her head. So many things had happened that she completely forgot what day it was. Time didn’t seem to matter in space. A thought that continued to push her a lot closer to losing her mind, but something was there, trying to wrest her from aimless anxiety. Motherly wisdom clung to her with warm fingers. And her vibroblade, sitting next to her troublesome digital friend, called out to her, chilling her fire. Without words, the familiar leather grip joined her arm and she took to filling the empty space around her. The hum of Tenebris’ ship – of which she had grown accustomed – was guiding her movements. Dips fell into quick slashes. Advances drew into small retreats and graceful flicks of the wrist helped to push her into other forms and disciplines.

 

Nerves clawed at her, trying in vain to win back her troubled thoughts. But Lux wasn’t listening. Her mind was focused on the sword and the will of the steel was focused on her. The blade was an extension of her arm, an extension of her pervasive will, and ever moving in tandem with her, joining with her; her eternal partner in a dance of martial prowess.

[Raia Montar]

((Co-Written))

 

She took a couple of bites and then a few more before she answered him. "It's good, different than before, but still good." Her eyes fell to her bowl for a few seconds before she quietly added, "I guess...like me." She looked back up at him again, her eyes still a stormy gray.

 

Deep down I knew I could never go back, I was just too scared to face the truth, she thought. I'd changed too much to fit in there. Emily was right, I was just too stubborn to realize it...and she's too stubborn to know how much Raynuk cares for her. And here we are, where all of the pain our stubbornness brought us.

 

"You're right that 'Mazais' isn't mine, not anymore, really…” she remarked. “I’m still Raia, but I have no clan...no family...no one to speak for me. I feel like I know who I am even less than I did before…”

 

“You are whoever and whatever you choose to be now.” Raynuk responded almost instantly, his gaze turning to her over his own bowl. “It is a new beginning, built upon the ruins of who and what you were mere days ago; it will not be easy, but it will be far more true to you than anything thus far.”

“So that begs the question,” he paused again for effect, “Who, and what, do you want to be?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Stronger...Wanted...Not scared of things...There’s just too much I don’t know to know I want it.”

 

“What did you want? Why did you choose to be Sith?” she asked, quietly in earnest.

 

Raynuk slowly sat back, letting his hand and bowl lower to his lap. For a few moments, he was quiet, his face taking on a haunted look. The question had quite literally caught him off guard, and he realized in the immediate split seconds afterward that he had never quite thought about what he had wanted all those years ago.

 

“I.. “ he began, then frowned and restarted. “My path to the Sith was much less innocent than yours has been. I sought them out because I was convinced I was an evil monster. I had murdered my family in a bout of rage and thought that if I was a monster, I might as well own the role of one. For a very long time… I had no concerns of my own, merely those of my Master and the Sith. I was not a person, an individual. I was just a bladed arm of the Sith.”

 

The regret and sorrow were clear in his voice as he spoke rather quietly of his past. He worried that telling Raia all that might have a negative effect on her, but if that was to come to pass, so be it. For despite the cruelty and harshness of it, it was the truth; so far as he remembered it.

 

“I basically replaced my blood family with a family of monsters… Where I was not the worst monster out there.” He finally finished, summarizing the sense of self-loathing he had possessed in those early years.

 

Raia met his gaze evenly as she considered his answer and considered her own induction into the Sith Order. While she hadn’t sought them out, she hadn’t exactly been wholly innocent in her choice to join in the arena battle. “I abandoned my family first,” she finally admitted, her own mother’s words echoing for a painful moment in her mind. “I felt cramped and caged on Dathomir in my clan of Witches. I know now it was mainly from Mitral...the main elder of my-” her voice broke slightly before she corrected herself, “the Raging River Clan. She manipulated us all.” Anger rose within her again, sudden and furious as she remembered the woman’s actions both recent and in the distant past.

 

“I left, thinking that I could make a better life for myself in the forests. I know what plants are safe to eat and how to hide and find food. I didn’t plan on crossing paths with the Nightsisters, but it happened and the next thing I knew I was being thrown off-world with Qaela...and Dark Lord Furion.”

“Qaela could tell how scared I was and tried to manipulate me into believing that she was the only one that could offer me protection among the evil and savage Sith. Master Draken was quick to prove how wrong she was, however. Despite that, her words got to me, about how she was constantly attacked or beaten by those around her and that she wanted to spare me from the same fate. I didn’t know who to trust, so I followed my instincts. She’d evidently made lots of enemies, so I knew staying with her wasn’t safe.” Even though her words were coming in something of a rush, it surprised her how easily they were coming, how much she’d been holding things inside with no way to make sense of them for herself. It seemed to be helping, so she continued.

“I didn’t know they were going to make me fight for my life in the apprentice arena. Even Rose had to fight and her champion was the Dark Lord!” Raia shook her head slightly, as though she were trying to remove that frame of reference from her vocabulary now that she’d been summarily thrown off of Dathomir. “They put me against someone as big and strong as you. I was forced to choose between his life and mine. I…” she struggled to think of the word in Basic, but settled on the Dathomiri instead when she couldn’t think of it, “...hư hỏng my healing training to use the magicks to stop his heart while he was trying to crush me to death. I am not as innocent as you think. I may not have as much blood on my hands as yours, but it’s there.” Mitral’s tree-mutilated corpse flashed in Raia’s mind’s eye for a moment and she grew quiet. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, before rising and returning to her room to pick up the ball of paper her last vision had been drawn on.

 

“For what it’s worth,” she began, holding the wadded up drawing in both of her hands, “I don’t think you’re a monster. Furion was a monster. He branded me, then abandoned me like some artifact in his prized library. A monster wouldn’t have come back for me. A monster wouldn’t be trying to put right what this cult has been doing. A monster wouldn’t have come up with a way to make Emily leave in order to protect her.” She stepped toward him and placed the drawing next to him.

[Raynuk Montar]

As Raia returned with the wadded piece of paper and spoke of her view of him, he initially felt a hint of vindication; that the steps he had taken since his return were steps taken away from returning to the monster he had once been. But with Raia’s justification for why Emily and Raynuk had split up, the vindication was washed away. Come up with a way to make Emily leave… the words repeated in his head.

 

He knew that was an idealistic view of what had happened, when the complexities of the fight reached far deeper. He didn't fabricate a reason for Emily to leave; she had exploded on him and over-reacted, and he had rejected what he saw was a slowly shrinking cage. He still cared for Emily, and likely always would. But with the way things stood now, it was not a temporary decision. Perhaps Emily had helped him make the first few steps away from the darkness that corrupted his soul, but the path he walked down now was not one he regarded lightly.

 

As the wadded piece of paper was placed next to him however, he turned to regard it, picking it up once more.

 

“Time for show and tell then?” He asked with a hint of humor as he bounced the paper ball from one hand to the other a few times before settling on slowly opening and unraveling it. “Alright then, but no promises that I’ll hang it --”

There was a pause as the image began to be revealed. “On… the fridge…”

 

As he unfolded the heavy-weight paper Emily’s face done in fine lines of now slightly smudged charcoal was the first to be revealed, her face serenely happy and arms encircling her swollen belly. On either side of her, were two infants floating as they would within. One was done in the same grey charcoal, the other more vibrant and in the color of life through the use of pastels. The more of the image that was revealed, the slower Raynuk’s hand moved to continue the task, as if he was fighting against the movements themselves. But once it was fully unveiled, his hands attempting to smooth it out slightly, he merely sat there looking at in silence.

 

As time ticked by, he said nothing and showed no outward reaction as his eyes slowly swept back and forth over the picture. But within, the hundreds of questions were ripping him apart; mind, heart, and soul. A few times his mouth opened slightly as though he was going to speak, but each time words seemed to fail him. His brow furrowed as a finger moved to brush over the two figures of infants in charcoal and pastel, which it became clear he had become focused on.

 

Then as if time had suddenly caught up with him, Raynuk bolted to his feet, sending the drawing and his forgotten bowl falling to the couch. He walked a few feet away from the couch as if he was going to walk to the cockpit, but stopped halfway as one hand began to brush and pull at the facial hair on his chin. It was akin to a nervous tick, but one that Raia certainly had not seen before.

 

“This…This is why you think I sent Emily away.” He finally spoke, his voice far from the commanding and confidence that usually came with anytime he spoke. “I… did not know. I do not know. About any of this... “

He turned in another sudden movement, his gaze searching the teenager for some semblance of answer, but finding practically nothing for his scrambling mind to latch on to.

 

“It… it gives me far more questions than answers. It troubles me, and it vexes me. If she knew… and she hid it from me? How can I return from such callous disregard? No… if she knew and hid this from me, it serves to only solidify my split from her.” The words were unusually jumbled as they poured directly from Raynuk’s racing mind, and there was a hint of betrayal laced within them. But all at once he seemed to reconnect with what he had said, and his tone shifted as he apparently finally came to grips with it.

 

“I understand now why this was hidden Raia. And I do not fault you for it, especially given your concern over how your previous drawings may have caused conflict. The betrayal is hers, not yours.” He decided, almost callously.

 

It was a few more minutes before he walked back to the couch, and picked up both the bowl and the picture in one hand. “I don't know where this path leads, if it even leads forward. And even then, I do not know if I wish to walk that path knowing this. I have my own path to walk, in pursuit of the cult and of Vladimir Faust.”

[Raia Montar]

As Raia watched him react, she found it was confusion that took hold, not fear from the fact he didn’t initially take it well. “I-I don’t see what this has to do with Vex’aedr...but you had to know. You said you knew about such things when Delta kissed me. If-if it’s true that you didn’t know how can you expect her to know, then? I hid it because I didn’t think you would want me around if you were starting a family of your own,” she gasped for a second as the sudden admission startled her. “I-it was also from an earlier vision I had from before I met either one of you…it-it was the first...”

 

Confusion beget confusion, as Raynuk had trouble figuring out what Raia was responding to initially, but as she continued he suddenly understood that the two of them were on separate wavelengths when it came to the discussion of the drawing. It left Raynuk with only one response.

 

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and set into trying to explain.

“No its… I mean, yes I do know about such things Raia but… I know how it works, but Emily did not tell me that she was with child. Ever.” Still sensing some confusion, he picked up the picture again and then moved to stand next to her, displaying the drawing.

“Perhaps you don't fully understand what this is showing Raia… but it's two separate occurrences of Emily being with child. One is in the past,” he pointed to the black, charcoal outline that, to him, signified it was dead and devoid of life, “And one that is either in the present or the future.” His finger jumped to the pastel colored infant.

 

“So you’re mad at her for this one...but the other one still might be…” Raia thought she understood. “Is this because males and females are equal here?” To her knowledge, the business of child rearing and babies was purely in the women’s circle, things were clearly different here.

 

“Yes,” he answered with a mild sigh of relief. “You know that things are different than they were within your clan, this is another of those situations. Sometimes a mother does end up having a child without the knowledge of the father, but in this case, Emily was with me whenever this happened… And it is something she should have informed me of.”

 

“She said that you were dead a long time...” Raia was struggling to empathize enough with Emily to figure out what reason she could have had for keeping what was clearly an important matter from the man that was supposed to be her equal partner in all things. “What if she lost it when you weren’t there to help her...and she didn’t tell you because she didn’t see the practical use? It’s not like there would be anything either of you could have done about it then and it would have been something painful when she’d just gotten you back.” She was trying to think of anything from what she supposed might be Emily’s perspective to figure out what could have justified her Master from keeping the secret.

[Raynuk Montar]

From Raynuk’s perspective, Raia was effectively countering the new reasons he was grabbing a hold of to justify his split with Emily. The girl might have been young and naive in some aspects, but was smart and rational enough to equal out his anger, which at times was irrational.

 

In the end he sighed again. “Maybe you’re right.”

 

He turned to look at her again, suddenly finding it slightly amusing that she -- a girl who he had come to accept could have been his daughter in another life -- was capable of meeting and challenging his rationale at times. He was going to say as much, until he noticed the barest glimpse of the tattoo barely peaking out from under the collar of her tunic; a location that, last he knew, the tattoo had not reached. He turned to her fully, a look of concern on his face.

 

“The tattoo grew again… didn’t it.” He said, not so much a question as confirmation of what he was already fairly sure of.

 

She nodded, resignation in her eyes rather than fear, and removed the cream-colored outer tunic she’d pulled on over the thin-strapped tank. “A lot.”

 

From where it had just been a medallion at her breast bone that had barely spread in either direction from when Raynuk had last seen it, it now spread upward and across the tops of her shoulders, winding its way down her arms that also bore some of the marks from her captivity and subsequent execution attempt by her clan. “I think it’s why I’m having the visions. I don’t like to draw any more because of them.”

 

She wasn’t sure why she’d admitted that to Raynuk, but it was as out in the open as the tattoo’s growth to half-way down her forearms at this point. “I just figured it out because I remembered my first vision of helping a woman in labor happened right after Furion branded us and after I fought in the arena and killed my opponent. Have you or Master Draken ever heard of such a thing happening? Draken removed his, and Emily said hers hasn’t grown at all and I know she uses the Force a lot more than I do.”

 

Raynuk visually scanned the tattoo as Raia talked about it, silently cursing at the fact that it had grown to such a degree. Eventually he reached out and took her arm gently, pulling it up so that her palm was up before him, and then reached out to trace the pattern as it had extended to her arm.

 

“I have not… It is possible Draken has. However, knowing Furion, I would not be surprised if this is something entirely of his own design.” He turned her arm over so her palm was facing down, and continued to trace the pattern. “I can however, feel a subtle amount of the Force held within the tattoo… which could explain why it continues to grow and spread as you continue to use your abilities.”

 

He released her arm, turning his attention to her face once more. “Are you ashamed of it Raia?”

 

A haunted look clouded her eyes and she swallowed before answering quietly. “Being marked by him is what cost me my family. My mother disowned me and with no one to speak for us Mitral and the elders ordered Delta and I to be cleansed with fire. It...didn’t exactly go as they expected…”

“So It seems.” He answered, his eyes narrowing slightly. He wasn’t going to press her, especially given the look that had crossed her face when he asked her. “Furion, much like Faust, was never keen on considering the repercussions his actions would have on those he lorded over. I.. am sorry that the tattoo has cost you so much. I regret I don’t have any further answers for you or solutions about the tattoo.”

He flashed her a small smile. “And despite it being tainted by Furion, I think the tattoo is kind of badass looking.”

She returned a slight smile of her own before pulling the tunic back over her head against the slight chill of the ship’s air. “That’s okay...it’s growing on me…”

 

Raynuk simply rolled his eyes. “Alright, very punny. I'll take that as a sign you're feeling better, but I'm still going to suggest you get a good night's sleep; we should be arriving at Corellia in a few hours."

 

Raia shrugged, but then nodded and turned to leave. Dropping her dish off on the counter, she turned and waved to Raynuk, who turned to head back to the cockpit. A few second later however, Raia was sprinting across the lounge again, and threw her arms around Raynuk once again.

 

"Cảm ơn bạn" she mumbled into his side, before detaching and making her way back to her room, while Raynuk simply smiled and continued on to the cockpit.

 

===================================

 

Several hours later, 2V informed Raynuk that they were approaching Corellia in a few moments. Raynuk merely nodded, a small frown on his face. Over the past two hours, he had begun to feel the pain of his earlier injuries once again, and it had only continued to grow in intensity and spread further across his side and up his back. It served to only annoy the Sith and make him uncomfortable as time went on. With their arrival imminent, he moved to stand and go inform Raia. But the moment he stood up, the fire in his side turned into a grenade in his gut that nearly took his legs out from under him. He barely managed to catch himself on the back of the pilot's chair and the wall with a grimace and a growl, but pressed on to exit the cockpit, shooting a glance at 2V as he did so. The droid seemed to not notice his stumble however.

 

"Take us in 2V... I'll be back." he said through his grimace.

 

By the time Raynuk got to the lounge area, the fact that the pain in his abdomen was seeming to increase with every second began to nag him. Crossing to Raia's room, he once again found the door open, and the room dark. He quietly peeked inside, only to find the room was empty. But then, noticing that the bed had likewise been stripped of the blankets and pillows, turned back to the lounge, and began crossing it again. But every step continued to pour fuel on the fire in his side, which was beginning to trickle down his leg. He found himself bracing against the couches, tables and walls until he reached the side room that he had set up for Vex'aedr to sleep in. The door was left open so the tuk'ata could come and go as he pleased, and so it took only a glance to confirm his suspicions.

 

Vex'aedr was curled up on one side of the room, resting ontop of the numerous pillows placed there for him. And with Roe'gall also aboard, Raynuk was not surprised to find the older tuk'ata in much the same positon on the other side of the room. But there, curled up in a ball of blankets and pillows, snuggled neatly between the two tuk'atas, was Raia, fast asleep. Raynuk stopped against the doorway, a little harder than he anticipated as he winced in continuing pain. It was loud enough that Vex lifted his head and looked at Raynuk, who could only offer a weak smile.

 

"Sorry buddy... Didn't mean to wake any of you." Raynuk said, a little weaker than normal. Vex'aedr then stood up, a slight whuff coming from the beast. Raynuk began to laugh slightly, thinking the tuk'ata's concern wasnt warranted, but immediately began to cough instead, which only aggravated the continuing pain. Vex then whimpered, now clearly now aware of the pain Raynuk was enduring, but stopped short of moving to his master when Raynuk held up his hand.

 

"Im... okay. I promise." He managed before coughing again.

 

He was definitely not okay, and he knew it. Pushing himself off the doorway and back into the lounge, he tried to make his way to the medical bay of the Ravenhammer. He made it only half-way before he felt another explosion in his side, felt fire shoot down the entire length of his leg, and the phantom pain of being shot several times with a blaster through the abdomen and chest. It was enough to buckle the legs out from under him, and he fell to the floor, desperately trying to catch himself on one of the chairs in the lounge, but succeeding only in bringing the chair down on top of him.

 

He had a split second more of awareness before he blacked out, and it was enough to make sense of it all. He was feeling, more harshly than before, the pain of Jaina. He had suspected it when he first felt it on Dathomir, but in that last second, he knew it for sure.

 

She was close.

[Skye Organa]

Skye had followed Tenebris into the gunship then stepped into the room she had been allotted, leaving the door open for the time being. She placed her bag upon the bunk and looked around. The room was sparse, but that was to be expected of a military craft. Figuring she would pass some time in meditation she sat on the floor in a cross legged position, her hands resting upon her knees, facing the door. Closing her eyes she began to meditate, letting the Force swirl around her. Slowly she rose from the floor, levitating about 10cm from the grey metal plating. She could feel the engine's vibrations as the ship took off and headed for Onderon.

 

Reaching out she could feel Lux struggling with her feelings. Slowly Skye let her empathetic energies wrap around the young woman, soothing her so that she could feel some measure of peace, also letting the words gently form in her mind, ”I am here if you need to talk or if you want instruction in the ways of the Force…

[Raia Montar]

Vex’aedr’s movement caused Raia to stir almost as much as the feeling that something was wrong. His whimper drew the last bit of cobwebs out of her mind, followed by Raynuk’s attempt to placate the beast. The girl paused for a moment as she sat up to rub the white tuk’ata’s neck and listened. As the sound of the fall and clatter met her ears, she was up and out of the door a heartbeat behind Vex and the now-rousted Roe’gall.

 

She had to shove them away from him roughly, earning her a slight growl from Roe until she glared at him, carrying her first thought -- I have to fix him.

 

Frantically, she checked him over growing frustrated as she couldn’t see any injuries. Peeling back the layers of cloth, she checked his torso for any signs of internal bleeding that her healing had somehow missed. Finding no bruising that would indicate such, she gave a shout toward the cockpit where Raynuk’s droid was. “Metal man!” she cried, not remembering the artificial being’s actual designation. “Help! Something’s happened to Raynuk!”

2-VSH’s mechanical voice came bouncing through the doorway that lead to the cockpit, sounding utterly offended and perturbed, even for a droid.

 

<> he called back, slightly mocking her. <>

 

“Can we not talk about the dead coming back to life? He’s hurt, but I can’t find anything wrong with him! How close are we to wherever we were going? Are there healers we can take him to?”

 

There was an audible and mechanical sigh followed by silence for a few moments. Then the sound of metal feet grew louder until 2V appeared in the doorway to the lounge.

<> he said before fully noticing the situation before him; Raynuk, lying on the ground practically unresponsive, with the two large tuk’atas hovering over him while Raia turned to look at him pleadingly.

 

<> he asked incredulously of the teenager.

“I didn’t do anything!” she shrieked, before taking a breath and regaining herself. “I heard him come to check on us and then heard him fall. Wasn’t he with you? Did you notice anything? We have to get him to a...a...túp lều chữa bệnh. Can’t you do anything?” She paused as the metal humanoid’s words from earlier sank in. “Are you trying to kill us? Who’s flying the ship if you’re not?”

<>

 

The droid tilted its head slightly before crossing the room and attempting to shoo away Vex and Roe from Raynuk’s side but found both were unwilling to budge.

 

<> he said to the tuk’atas before turning to Raia. <>

 

With that, he knelt down and scooped Raynuk up off the ground and effortlessly crossed the lounge area to the medical bay. He was less than gentle with depositing Raynuk on the medical bed, hooking up the various monitors to him, all while softly humming some tune to itself.

“Stop it! You’ll make him worse!” Raia cried from behind him, trying and failing to keep her hurt at the insult the droid had given from being apparent. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to be so rough with someone who’s already injured?”

 

<> 2V replied simply, otherwise ignoring Raia as he finished connecting the monitors to Raynuk. The droid looked at the monitors for a moment, then down at Raynuk, and then turned and exited the medical bay.

 

A few minutes later, the droid returned, carrying a small device in its hands. Pushing past the two tuk’atas that had seen fit to take up the entire doorway, 2V then walked around Raia, back to Raynuk’s side and turned on the small device, which immediately began buzzing in the droid’s hand.

“What is it? What’s wrong with him?” Raia asked, wiping at her eyes with one of her hands while the other rested on Raynuk’s arm. Had she done something wrong when she’d healed him in the canyon? It’d certainly been the first time she’d ever tried something that complex with the Force. It was something that only her mother should have attempted. The thought about her mother had been one too far, and she sniffed loudly and unsuccessfully tried to keep the tears from falling harder. “He can’t die. He can’t,” she insisted to whatever powers might be listening.

 

<> 2V stated as he placed one hand on Raynuk’s forehead and brought the buzzing device to its purpose; he began cutting Raynuk’s usually long white hair.

 

Since his resurrection, Raynuk’s hair had started to grow in darker and darker, from its former white to the brown of his youth, which it was now presently at. For reasons only known to the droid, 2V now began cutting Raynuk’s hair short enough that no white would remain.

 

<> 2V stopped, noticing finally the emotional state that Raia was in, taking a moment to process the information as his photoreceptors blinked twice in her general direction before he leaned towards her slightly and continued. <>

The last two words were said more as questions gauging their impact on Raia versus statements. The droid really was getting a crash course in public relations before it returned to its task of cutting Raynuk’s hair. Once that was done, however, 2V began to leave the medical bay again, intending to go back to the cockpit to ensure the landing went as expected, leaving Raia alone in the room.

 

Confused at the droid's actions, she ran her hand along Raynuk's now closely shorn hair. He didn't look like himself, and that unnerved her even more. She’d just have to wait it out and hope that this Force thing was with them. "Please be okay..."

[Tenebris]

They rocketed through space toward Onderon, and all Tenebris found himself capable of was staring out the front viewport with a puzzled glower on his face. It was a mood the likes of which the crew had not often seen, and when it reared its head they tended to give him a wide berth. To him, that was just fine. He had enough to think about without mindless questions or the crew's bawdy humor to get in the way.

 

Troubling reports had begun to surface, whispers of agents so ruffled by the destruction of not one, but two CoreSec Headquarters on heavily-fortified worlds inside of a week that plans for retaliation began to be conceived. CoreSec was not an army, it was a protective force. He wanted these criminals brought to justice as much as the next man, especially if Faust was involved in any way, but to blame the Galactic Alliance for what amounted to a terrorist attack during peacetime seemed altogether misplaced. Thankfully, the agents he was receiving his intelligence from stated that there was also a strong contingency loyal to the mission and values of CoreSec.

 

Perhaps forming an elite task force to begin an investigation into such attacks would be wise. Strategic prediction of terrorist activity certainly landed squarely inside the bounds of protective security. If he were to do so, however, it might prove beneficial to ask for help that extended beyond the borders of ruffled CoreSec agents. The Galactic Alliance military surely had intelligence officers that could help form up such a squad.

 

It was with these troubling thoughts in his mind that he fired off a comm to his contact in GA intelligence, hoping for a bite. If it came down to him, he would reform the agents that reported to him specifically and they would begin their work alone if they had to.

 

Legs aching from inactivity, he finally resolved to wash the thoughts out of his mind with a good spar. The crew deck maintained a space large enough for such practice, even so far as to include customizable droid opponents. However, his Echani sensibilities resented them, much preferring a live combat partner. Perhaps one of the twin Twi'lek gun sergeants would be willing. Moving down the hall past the crew quarters, he paused suddenly. The whistle of a blade slicing through air molecules came to his ears, the purposeful exhale of breath meaningfully applied. He glanced to his left, where Lux's door opened at his ceasing movement. There she stood, dancing with her weapon as she had outside the Relmis Estate back on Corellia.

 

A wry grin passed his features as he leaned against her doorframe.

 

"You're not bad with that blade. How are you without it?"

[Lux]

An arc of silver sung through the air. It painted enduring woe through the pestilence of silence. Breaking apart the still air that plagued her, the metal slashed with lethal accuracy, crashing down toward the floor, only to stop moments before. Eyes bent toward sullen meditation, the Thyrsian continued through her exercises. It was her moment of denial. The steel was solid and consistent. It remained with the flow of her arm and listened to the conscious pull of her thoughts. It was her only moment of control. It meant little to galactic affairs. But that wasn’t important. The Jedi's words were heard, but Lux set them aside for now.

 

At times like these, when her emotions got the better of her, Lux would always grab a sword. To others, that was a terrible course of action. But the battle was Lux’s stress relief. Sparring was the only way to settle her nerves. It was a ceaseless aid to her jitters and anxiety and the only reason she could feign any level of confidence. That, and the unwavering faith that her mother had in her. Even when their entire neighborhood spurned Lux for being a freak, her mother would take her out back, sword in hand, and guide her through the motions. It was therapeutic. It was hers. It wasn’t just another Echani or Thyrsian ordering her to spar. It was peaceful. It was simple.

 

Sweat was starting to build up and blotch her forehead, but she pushed through. She was sweeping through the middle of a pirouette when her face caught Tenebris’ and she almost collided with her bed frame. Her foot stopped before any serious damage was caused, but she needed a moment to catch the rest of her body before it tried to topple over.

 

"You're not bad with that blade. How are you without it?"

 

Impulsively, a coy grin answered his wry expression.

 

“I don’t know commissioner E’lann... Care to spar?”

 

Lux breathed deeply, letting her smile stretch a little further across her face. She sheathed her vibroblade with a practiced motion and set it atop her bed. When everything was left to her satisfaction – all of her OCD whims accounted for – her eyes met Tenebris’ once more and she bowed before her opponent before dipping into a ready stance and putting her arms up in a guard position.

 

Her white eyes glittered with excitement and her heart pounded in staccato.

Your move…

[Skye Organa]

As she went deeper into her meditative state, Skye opened her mind further, seeking guidance to the problem they had stumbled upon on Corellia. Faust ... It pained her that Darex and Onderin had sacrificed themselves to be rid of that madman and now it seemed like he was back and they were still gone. Where she had once had a Master-Padawan bond with Darex, there was an emptiness. A hollow void where there had once been a strong connection, a friendship that she missed dearly. If only she could reach his presence wherever he may be within the living Force. If she could then maybe she’d be able to get some answers, some advice on how to defeat Faust once and for all for it this truly was Faust then there would be a confrontation for sure.

 

Seeking guidance, advice and a comforting presence Skye extended her senses further, attempting to open the old bond between herself and her former Master. Strange… Normally she would feel that bright spark that was Tares and that was enough to reassure her no matter how far away he was… but she couldn’t sense him at all… There was only an uneasy feeling to guide her… a feeling that something was wrong. Hopefully it was something as simple as him going into a ysalamiri bubble and not something more sinister.

 

Slowly she lowered herself back to the floor, coming out of the meditation with more questions than answers. She stood, hearing voices through her open door. Skye went into hallway so she could observe the sparring match.

[Dashel Illioni]

Dashel watched as the Right Passage emerged from Hyperspace far from the endpoint that their navicomputers calculated while orbiting Ossus. He heard surprise, fear, and a range of emotions emerge from the communications station on his ship. Then again, if one emerges from hyperspace suddenly and without warning and faces an Imperial I, two Imperial Carriers, and 4 Corellian gunships, and an Interdictor cruiser, experienced captains tended to think the worst.

 

He activated the system and spoke directly to the Captain of that massive freighter.

 

“Captain,” he said, “That old Imperial I is a GA ship. We stumbled onto a routine anti-smuggling post. “As soon as they scan our cargo, we will be on our way. Relax, and conduct any repairs you might need to while we wait on the GA and the rest of our fleet to arrive.

 

A sight escaped the Jedi Master’s lips. He had five more freighters like this one to calm, plus several smaller freighters intended as short haul help to calm and organize when they found themselves pulled from hyperspace.

 

He closed the channel to the comm system and went back to the lab on his ship. A long, latticed carbonite board lay in his lab, waiting for fitting with some technical gadgets, and for being etched with symbols pertaining to Jedi Sorcery.

 

A smile crossed his lips at the intended use for the board.

[Draj Matterburn]

As the ship exited hyperspace, Draj began running diagnostics to make sure nothing had been damaged. After the tests were done he spoke "Master Illioni, all systems are functional and nothing is damaged."

[Tenebris]

Tenebris chuckled, a sound as rare as a mynock on Tatooine. Lux's eagerness to fight him was both disarming and strangely endearing. "No, follow me. We have a sparring room on this deck with a little bit more space than your quarters."

 

Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around her forearm lightly, pulling her toward the door. As he did so, an incriminating thought winked into existence. Immediately he buried it, his gaze flicking from her iridescent white eyes to the door, but not before feeling a low-grade heat creeping onto the edges of his countenance. He led her down the hallway to the training center, and once they arrived, took his time to disarm himself completely, even to the extent of releasing the plates of the light armor he wore, down to the combat jumpsuit he wore beneath. As he did so, he studied her bemusedly.

 

"Were you raised in the traditions of your people?" he asked, his tone choleric, tilting his head at her. "You eschew their armor and heavy weaponry in favor of a single blade."

 

Taking his place on the far side of the mat, he turned to face her, where she had already dropped into a ready stance. From the waist, he bowed slightly, settling into the mat. "Please, ladies first," he said waspishly.

[Dashel Illioni]

"Good," said Dashel, "Now that we have some time together, tell me about your training under Master Kirlocca. "I am interested in seeing how far you've advanced and in what areas your proficient so that your training can continue."

 

Dash knew what Kirlocca's reports said, he wanted to hear Draj's impressions and thoughts on the matter. An apprentice should have an idea where they'd been, aka have a good solid base from which to launch further into their Jedi studies.

[Draj Matterburn]

After thinking for a few seconds about what would be the best way to respond to the question he finally spoke, "Master Kirlocca began training me on the mindset of a Jedi, more specifically, the Jedi and Sith code. He explained the various parts of the Jedi code to me. He has not taught me anything about using the force. I assume learning how to utilize the force will come after learning about the Jedi, Sith, and the force in general."

[Skye Organa]

Still wanting some answers, Skye ducked back into her room and sent a comm off to Xae-Lin Ardel. Once it was sent she moved back into the hallway and followed the others to the sparring room where she slipped in and remained along the wall, watching as Tenebris and Lux began to spar.

[Dashel Illioni]

Dashel reflected on Draj’s question for several long moments, trying to sort through his experience with the Force. He finally shook his head, clearing his thoughts and smiling at the young Wookie.

 

“The Force is something you need to experience before we can define it,” said Dashel. Rising from the seat he’d taken, he gestured to Draj to do the same.

 

He turned to Kala who had entered the cockpit at that point and said, “Kala, as the rest of our little ‘fleet’ arrives, let them know what is going on and give them the cords we are heading to above Coruscant. Once we’re assembled and the Navy finishes its inspections, take us there.”

 

Kala nodded. Understanding shown in her eyes at the lesson Dashel needed to teach Draj. Despite long association with her and despite knowing her secrets, he still sometimes forgot that was a Droid so perfect was her construction.

 

Regardless, he led Draj to a small space on his ship he kept closed from most people. Simply decorated, he’d created the room to help him meditate in the most stressful moments of his life.

Introducing Padawans to the Force was not stressful for him, but for the Padawan? Consciously sensing the Force for the first time meant everything to young sentients starting their journey as Jedi and Dashel wanted the young being in front of him to have as few as distractions as possible for his first attempt.

 

If he failed, then he knew he could always resort to some of Master Yoda’s training methods when they got to Coruscant. A smile crossed his face at the amount of exercise it might take to tire a Wookie, even a young one.

 

As the door to the meditation room closed, Dashel gestured to many of the small cushions scattered about the room.

“Grab a cushion and sit down,” said Dashel.

 

Once they were both seated and comfortable, Dashel concentrated and gently engaged the door controls ensuring they would only be disturbed under the gravest of conditions.

 

“Alright,” said Dashel, “Close your eyes and keep them closed. Next, I want you breathe, slowly and gently, evenly, in and out. Keep doing so until I tell you otherwise.”

 

Dash watched the young Wookie for a while, rising once or twice to correct Draj’s posture or even out his breathing ever so slightly.

 

“Good, now begin clearing your mind. Take each thought, examine it and push it away. Take every remaining sound, feeling, and distraction, examine them, and push them away. Take your time. When you are done, when you feel at ease, reach out with you feelings and tell me what you sense.”

 

As he finished, Dashel reached out with his own mid and quietly activated a small, almost perfectly noiseless training remote that slowly settled over his left shoulder.

[DoctorOblivious]

Over the next day, Gre’thor had indeed broken loose. During a brief moment in time in which the shuttle had dropped out of hyperspace to plot another jump, her messages on her datapad had updated. Her publishers were furious. Her boyfriend had been stood up on their first date in months. Her super had let a plumber into her apartment and found it a mess. Sophia hadn’t even managed to send off a single response before the shuttle had re-entered hyperspace and made communication impossible.

 

A few more hours passed. Sophia spent the time sitting cross-legged on the floor trying to make some sense of the heroic (and arguably ludicrous) efforts of the Rebellion to simultaneously defend Coruscant and evacuate survivors immediately after The Shield Incident. Planetary communications had almost completely broken down when the shields fell, making a coherent response an unlikely endeavor. How the Imperials had failed to take the planet was beyond her…

 

Finally, she felt the floor panels shift under her, signaling a return to realspace. The portal to the crew quarter’s clicked and slid open, revealing the soulless, red-headed thug who had black-bagged her. Nikita Trell, a lithe young woman wearing camouflaged fatigues, leaned against the portal with an impatient expression.

 

“We’re here. Suit up, Maddie.” She tossed a folded-up vacuum-proof suit into Sophia’s lap and left her behind.

 

“Where….” The historian demanded, struggling to work her way into what seemed to be a surplus TIE pilot’s flightsuit while she followed her into what appeared to be the cockpit of a Lambda class shuttle. “Is here?”

 

“Kashyyyk,” rumbled Renn Hamis’ deep voice. “Well, just outside the system.”

 

“I don’t see anything.” Nothing, aside from an endless field of stars, was visible--no ship, no planet. Even Kashyyyk’s star could not be distinguished from the millions of suns in the infinite blackness.

 

“Well, the ship has been out here for a few years now.” A faint click came from the control boards, and a searchlight blazed forward to illuminate a piece of hull where there was previously a featureless void.

 

“Salvage corvette—erm, I can’t pronounce the ship class--named Gravedigger. We’re not picking up any signs of sapient life or any shipboard power, but it’s possible that mynocks have gotten to her. Nikita, put on a suit and hook up a fuel line so we can at least get life support and emergency lights. Soph,” the searchlight swept the belly of the corvette, revealing a rectangular opening in the hull surrounded by a pattern of yellow-on-black paint. “The cargo hold is your point of entry. I’ll upload the ship layout to your datapad. You will make for the engineering room and I’ll walk you through starting the main reactor. Have you ever done a null-grav jump?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s easy; joystick by your right hand, little red button to trigger the pack, power settings by the left. Don’t fiddle with those. Squeeze your palms to magnetize your boots and gloves. Just take it slow and just give the pack one short burst at a time. I can grab you with the tractor if you miss, but don’t trigger the pack for more than a half-second at a time. Keep two points of contact with the hull until we’re able to restore artificial gravity. Got it?”

 

“We’ll see.” Sophia grimaced as she felt a pinch at her midsection. Nikita had just returned with a zero-gravity repulsor pack and cinched it around her waist, seemingly not stopping to check if the device was too tight for even her narrow frame. The historian found a sealed helmet and rebreather unit with a glassine faceplate thrust into her hands.

 

“Mic check, mic check.” As Sophia fitted the helmet over her suit, pulling her ponytail out of the seal, she heard Renn’s speech echoed crisply in a speaker just behind her ears. Nikita roughly jostled and twisted the headgear around her neck to check the seal. “And if anything--and I mean anything--goes wrong, stay where you are and wait for Nikita to pick you up. Niki--sync?”

 

“Sync.” The two operatives stared at each other for a moment then nodded as one. Then they began to breathe as one. They even spoke as one. Sophia understood that this was just the deployment of an obscure Force technique that their sect practiced in the field, but the synchronization of all their actions was quite unsettling. “Soph, boarding ramp,” both murmured to her, their voices almost in unison. Pulling her by the clips that fastened the repulsorpack to her waist, Nikita led her to the boarding ramp and a double-click echoed over the airwaves.

 

“Venting the airlock… opening boarding ramp… good luck, Sophia.” The historian was surrounded by a hiss of escaping gas and greeted with a swirling starfield as the boarding ramp lowered. A little grin barely visible through the fog occluding Nikita’s faceplate, the red-headed brute took a couple steps back and launched herself into the void with a running leap, laughing gleefully to herself as null-gravity took command and the Chandrilan’s body sailed into the void.

 

“Don’t do what Nikita just did,” growled Hamis’ voice. “Just step out and give the pack one quick burst. Aim directly for the light.”

 

Her stomach rising anxiously as she stepped clear of the shuttle’s artificial gravity, Sophia aimed her repulsorpack’s controls in what she hoped was the general direction of the Gravedigger’s cargo hold. A gentle vibration issued somewhere behind her navel and she began to coast towards the luminous circle on the corvette’s hull. Fifty meters away, she realized that she would miss the entry portal and decided, instead of risking an overcorrection and drifting out into space, to just absorb the impact against the corvette’s hull and walk along the ship’s unpainted exterior.

 

Ten meters away, Sophia realized that she had no idea how to land softly on a drifting derelict. She squeezed her eyes shut, spread out her limbs, and belly-flopped onto the ship’s hull.

 

“Perfect landing, Sophia.” Renn even had the grace to not chuckle. “Just crawl along the hull now until you get your bearings. The cargo hold is upwards and a little to your right..”

 

Her chest burning from her faceplant onto the corvette’s hull, Sophia pushed herself onto her elbows and knees, the magnetized pads in her gloves and boots her only anchor keeping her from drifting into the endless night like this derelict. She stared upwards past the searchlight emanating from the Lambda-class shuttle from which she had just leapt, her eyes focusing momentarily on the immaculate, infinite field of stars. The historian’s eyes immediately snapped back down, her stomach swimming as she clambered along the hull like an ant. It was all she could do to keep moving and not throw up into her suit.

 

This was turning out to be a truly dreadful day.

[DoctorOblivious]

“Slow is smooth and smooth is fast. Just keep moving and keep your eyes on the hull,” encouraged Renn Hamis’ baritone. Her breath grasping loudly in the confines of a vacuum-proof helmet, Sophia Moriarty continued to trudge forward, each impact of her hands and feet impossibly loud in the vacuum of space. A drop of sweat stung in her right eye, and her hand bounced off her faceplate as she reached to wipe it away. “The engineering room should be about fifteen meters aft of the cargo hold, doorway on the port side.”

 

“Is that the left,” grunted Sophia, slamming a magnetized palm just beyond a strip of yellow-on-black paint and feeling the seam between the hull and cargo bay doors. “Or the right?”

 

A stunned silence followed. She heard a sharp intake of breath.

 

“That was a joke.” Sophia clumsily hauled her body over the lip of the cargo hold, first getting her midsection past the magcon field emitter then pulling her legs clear. “You don't actually think I'm that useless?”

 

“Fuel line hooked up, Renn,” came Nikita’s drawl. “Give ‘er some gas. Mynocks have definitely been busy here. I'm seeing claw marks all over the engines.”

 

“Make one quick sweep over the hull, then join Soph.”

 

Having risen to her feet, Sophia trudged a slow 360 turn inside the cargo hold, the lights cast by her helmet and datapad the only illumination in this pitch-dark chamber. Crates containing weapons, ammunition, explosives, were floating freely about the room. Claw marks from some kind of animal--probably mynocks--were scattered about the room. They had clearly been ravenous--not even the safety lights on the docking clamps had survived their feast. Sophia made her way aft, pushing a floating crate bearing the corporate logo of some company called Firkraag-Roden out her way.

 

"A lot of explosives in here."

 

"Yeah, Draygo was fond of blowing things up. Just don't fire any blasters in the cargo hold."

 

The historian murmured each meter as she continued to stomp her boots aftwards. A drifting piece of wire bumped into her faceplate. At ten meters, her helmet light caught the face of a reinforced blast door. Coming closer, she saw that it was…

 

“Shut.” Sophia craned her neck about the sides. “I see the hydraulic override.” With somewhat more effort than was required, Sophia tore away the metal faceplate, which immediately bounced back and slammed on her knuckles before she secured it with a padded elbow. She hissed an obscenity as she clamped her fingers around the hydraulic lever and pulled back mightily. A crease opened in the door, widening with each haul on the lever.

 

“Alright, I'm in,” panted Sophia as she stomped in and wiped at the fog in her faceplate. She had no idea space could be so warm… “I see… there’s a central cylinder-thing with a bunch of tubes and pipes coming out of it.” Pieces of routing tubes and cables were floating freely, having been torn apart by mynocks in their efforts to feast on the power output of the decrepit vessel.

 

“I’ll talk you through starting up artificial gravity.” There was some movement in the background of the transmission. “Next page, next page… Force, I hope the mynocks have left something for us…”

 

Over the next half-hour, Renn patiently walked her through the process of restarting the main reactor of the Gravedigger, and when that failed due to the wanton display of carnivorous vandalism, through recharging the corvette’s batteries from a power line that his comrade brought over. After successive failures and growing frustrations, the historian turned to see Nikita plodding into the engineering compartment with a length of power cable coiled around her waist and some unidentifiable variety of blaster carbine clutched in her right hand.

 

“Solving your mynock problem,” was all the Chandrilan thug offered in explanation. A few minutes later and another unsuccessful attempt to restore power by tearing out what was found to be an irreparably chewed-upon power cable, Sophia faintly heard vacuum-muffled blaster fire, followed by cursing in a number of unfamiliar languages… and yet more blaster fire. Then came what sounded suspiciously like a heavy boot repeatedly stomping flesh into a hard surface.

 

“Solved... yer... mynock…. prob’m. Give it another try. Not a kriffing exterminator…”

 

This time, the series of button presses was answered by a cavalcade of sparks raining from a number of fixtures that had been destroyed by the space-rats; a number of crimson running lights glared from their placements to offer some feeble illumination. Every floating object in the ship settled on the deck plating in a cacophony of thuds and rattles… as well as a few animalistic shrieks as a few varmint remaining in the ship suddenly had to contend with gravity.

 

_______________________________

 

After another hour of work, life support and artificial gravity has been restored to most of the ship, though the atmosphere was still too thin for Sophia to remove her helmet. She began combing through what must have been Draygo’s quarters, picking her way through the detritus that had floated unrestrained through the cabin while artificial gravity was disabled. The room was largely bare and devoid of personal touches aside from the exotic weapons that the Jedi Grandmaster had collected. A number of datapad chips had floated freely; a desktop holoviewer had fallen next to the corner of Draygo’s cot, darkened and having long since exhausted its batteries. Aside from that, there was nothing but metal walls. Sophia hoped that this was only because Draygo had yet to complete the restoration of this ugly, ungainly ship. This seemed an irrepressibly sad existence.

 

Nikita, meanwhile, was continuing to prowl the salvage corvette, clicking her teeth to a rhythm that sounded suspiciously like the anthem of the Empire. Blaster fire echoed periodically in the stale air as she eradicated the surviving mynocks one by one.

 

Paper-thin wafers of an unidentifiable amalgamation of crystal and computer chips had been scattered everywhere, each tagged with a crisp, laser-etched number. Sophia patrolled the room, picking up each sample and stashing it in a pouch sewn into her flight suit.

 

Next she turned her attention to the workstation that dominated the only wall of the room that was not adorned with weapons. It had been an extremely advanced model of computer, the sort of tech-porn that the entire engineering department of many universities would salivate over--they still would, but it was several years out of date...and besides, the loss of power, to say nothing of exposure to vacuum, had rendered it completely inoperable. Still, Sophia reflected as she pried back the covers to navigate a nest of wires and modifications to yank out its memory cores, there was still a chance that a friend of hers might be able to restore some data from it.

 

Some private notes were stashed away in various crevices and drawers built into the workstation, some handwritten and quite legible; a memory card for a civilian-model datapad. A number of technical sketches scrawled over with some very intensive math were folded up; Sophia set these aside. Sophia scanned through a handwritten notepad; some of the entries were rather maudlin, some positively sappy, some… of a nature that was clearly not intended for anyone else’s consumption. She stashed it nonetheless.

 

Her attention turned to a set of reinforced cabinets. Her vacuum-sealed fingers traced under the lip of the door, feeling a trace bump that likely belonged to a biometric scanner of some design. Nothing short of a welding torch or a lightsaber would get her past whatever lock it controlled, although, if the lock had gone without power for a few years….Sophia braced her leg against the wall, seized the door handle with both handles, and pulled with all her might…

 

And promptly thudded to the ground. Apparently Draygo had neglected to lock these cabinets. Inside were clothes--the woman seemed to dress in nothing but black, armored jumpsuits--weapons, knives, knives, a lot of knives, an impressive array of grenades, a rifle of some exotic and highly-expensive appearance. There didn’t seem to be anything of historical value, until she pulled away one of the bottom drawers…

 

“Oh. Oh-ho! What are you doing here?” Sophia lifted her find from the recesses of a padded draw to admire it in the full light of her helmet-mounted glowlamps. Inside was a variant of a Jedi holocron, with four black crystalline sides in the shape of a triangular prism. Supposedly, the amount of information that the devices held was correlated to the number of sides of the prism--a four-sided prism, therefore, would contain relatively little data… but even still, this was quite a discovery if she ever managed to access the information held within. Jedi holocrons were reputed to be guarded by some very temperamental gatekeepers.

 

“And you, my dear, what are you?” Housed in the same padded case was an unidentifiable device in the shape of a cylinder with curved edges, roughly the size of her palm. Blank metal, it had no markings same for a steel ring near the middle and a minute divot, indicating a holoprojector of some kind. Sophia gave the device an experimental double-tap that failed to elicit any response. Disappointing, perhaps, but she stowed it away in a pouch that was becoming increasingly difficult to open. Somehow, the historian was getting a sense that she needed to take this instrument, as though it was crucial to…. something, and Force-deaf though she have been, Sophia had learned long ago to always trust her hunches.

 

“Soph,” Renn’s voice interrupted her investigation of Draygo’s quarters. “Our tug is due soon. We’ll pull the data from the ship’s nav ‘puter--if we can--then we need to get out of their way.”

 

“Copy.” Sophia murmured back. The historian took one last glance back into this barren room, trying to shake the feeling that she had just thoroughly violated the privacy of one of the greatest soldiers that her generation had produced. Her eyes caught the frame of that abandoned, darkened holoframe placed on Draygo’s workstation and she decided to take it. She tried to force it into the pouches sewn into her flightsuit, finding that it was simply took awkward a shape to make fit into the pockets. Sophia resolved to carry it with her.

 

_______________________________________________

 

Back on Hamis’ Lambda-class shuttle, Renn and Sophia were situated in the cockpit, the historian hugging her knees as she watched the corvette rotate very, very slowly in the distance. Nikita, who had spent quite a bit more time zooming through vacuum and exterminating space-vermin, had promptly called first dibs on the refresher and was presumably cleaning up. Trying to glean any data from the Gravedigger’s navigational computer had been a hopeless endeavor, but perhaps someone in Hamis’ organization would be able to restore something from the vacuum-damaged memory.

 

“Back to Coruscant.” His fingers moved to reorient the shuttle and punch in the coordinates for Triple Zero. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to go through the same precautions as last time. Did you find anything you can use?”

 

“I… no, I don’t know. No answers, only more questions. I guess some part of me had hoped that Draygo had prepared something for me as a contingency, maybe even a recording.” A long sigh. “I hope that she’s alive, but… I will pray for her. I… I would bleed for her, if I could only see her now.

 

“I feel like a ghoul.” She said miserably as the stars lengthened into lines.

[Draj Matterburn]

Draj sat there for a long time, not a word coming from his mouth. First came the thought of his home planet Kashyyyk, a huge forest with the sound of many animals, as he pushed it away his ears blocked out all sound, all he could hear was silence. Then came the thought of space, completely silent, as he pushed it he pushed it away from the silence stopped. He saw dark and pushed it away, he saw light and did the same. He saw animals and pushed them away, he saw droids and pushed them away. This continued for an unknown amount of time, pushing out opposite from his mind. He heard no sound, yet it was not silent, he saw no light, but was not in the dark, he saw nothing, he was more relaxed than he had ever been. He at that moment he began to feel energy, flowing through his body. He noticed another source of energy, much stronger than Draj's, he somehow knew it was Master Dashel. He felt a thin layer of energy all around them, the walls, and he felt a small amount of energy, an object hovering over Dashel's left shoulder. This all happened within the span of a second, then thoughts flooded back into his mind like a wave, shocking all his senses. His eyes shot open and he gasped for air as his body fell limp on the ground. Then he passed out.

[Lux]

She shed her light silk armor, revealing a thin grey garment beneath that hugged at her chest, allowing for zero extraneous movements. Her tedious but necessary ritual, also revealed a tight, dark grey, athletic pair of pants that gripped equally as tight on her legs. The dark steel of the ship’s plating bit at her exposed feet, but she paid the sensation little mind. Lux moved slowly to the center of the mat, opposite Tenebris, bowed her head slowly and then bowed even deeper as a sign of respect. It was common amidst her trainers on the Thyrsian homeworld, but the gesture was ill-favored with those that she sparred with at the gym. Their temperaments were lackluster, their moves were stale and fragmented, their hearts were distant and their thoughts were wandering through life with little regard or consideration to the art of the fight. Their swords and fists flew with indirect passions and concentrations. They refused to let their hearts go and wade through their passions in the intimate exchange of bodily contact. Like the physical forms of affection, fighting could be a way to communicate on a fundamental level that few understood; few, aside Echani and Thyrsians.

 

The Thyrsian ignored Tenebris’ choleric comment for the moment, favoring her defensive stance from before. Her eyes were half-lidded as she let the day’s stress fall into her hands and feet. She sunk into a battle posture. And, instead of incoherently lashing at his waspish words, Lux closed the distance between them and popped him in his exposed chest. Her first strike implied that any verbal commentary would wait until the fight was over. And her calculated continuation was enough to confirm that implication. Her arms went back to a general defensive stance, but she didn’t stop there. The Thyrsian dipped low and intended to sweep his legs out from under him. But, failing that, she would continue with her momentum and come right back into her low aggressive stance.

 

The presence of the Jedi was a warm balm to her. But Skye’s presence didn’t register above a whisper. Lux’s mind, Lux’s anxiety, and Lux’s stress were finally wearing thin in the poetic movements of her limbs. She struck gracefully as the Echani favored. Her moves were practiced and her frustration utterly absent from the flow of her battle dance. Her hair was bound in a tight bun and her eyes glowed with a fierce intensity.

Edited May 26, 2017 by Guest

[Tenebris]

The first strike that collided with his sternum brought a slight whoosh of amusement that gushed from Tenebris, turning the backward movement into a low ready stance as the Thyrsian reset her stance and moved to cut at his legs with her own. Instead of leaping over her legs, or simply blocking them, he stepped forward into an aggressive strike, the flat edge of his outstretched hand cutting down towards her natural waist. If his blow struck, it would augment her existing momentum to the point of imbalance, but his planted feet would not budge even if she did manage to recover.

 

It was odd that she opted not to answer his question since she had not seemed to spare any words before on Corellia. But her lapse into immediate combat was all the more palatable to Tenebris: all too often, words were considered an acceptable substitute for the physical expression of one’s soul in combat. Lux’s choices told him a great deal about how she considered the world around her.

 

Not to mention, she was quick. An appreciative grin grew on his face as his blow came to nothing, Lux regaining her combat stance. But just as soon as she did, he threw his shoulder forward, aiming low on her ribcage.

 

-----

 

The stage continued to turn and Lux’s heart sang with passionate fire. Her smile echoed Tenebris’ and although she boasted evading his careful attacks, a small sheet of sweat wrapped around her forehead and upper chest. Light panting accented the battle-hardened silence. But she didn’t care. Lux’s smile grew until it hit both cheeks and her mind glittered with euphoric momentum. Despite hours spent at the gym and extensive training, this fight was exhausting. This was an opponent that she had to watch carefully. He was experienced and that was something she didn’t often see. It was intense. It was amazing. While the staccato rhythm of her body was racing, her mind focused on keeping her feet rooted like her teachers taught her. And when Tenebris’ shoulder came barrelling at her, Lux caught the first glance of the blow and carried his momentum through her stance, changing places with him and letting him fall to the mat.

 

Following his momentum, she placed a punch at his lower back and retreated a step to regain her root. The tingles that ran up the length of her ribs were painful, but the sensations were minor. Her thoughts, her feelings, her passions, her stresses; everything was here in the fight and Lux was enjoying every moment of it.

 

-----

 

The brief euphoria of falling lasted but for a moment before Tenebris collided with the mat. The pumping of his blood in his ears was enlivening, the thrill of the fight was his bread and butter. Here, stripped of all armor and weapons, skin and bone and sinew proved their worth: true beings met in an exchange of fire.

 

Almost as if it were a springboard, he flew back up off of the mat, his arched back serving like an expanding coil and rocketing his feet towards her abdomen, a blow that would lay her out flat across the floor if it landed.

 

-----

 

His kick was surprising, yet not wholly unexpected. The conclusion of her previous movement was made with the marked anticipation of his next strike. But, the speed of his attack is what caught her unaware. His foot shot toward her stomach and she moved to counter but was hit by a graze as he propelled from the mat. The pressure of his toes pushed the edge of her abdomen and swung her hip in an uncomfortable way. But her root remained. She let his movement continue. As the pendulum swings one way, so does it swing another.

[Lux]

Tenebris’ vicious and powerful strikes were offset by the speed and agility of the unhittable Lux. Lux’s hits, however agile, never seemed to shake the mountain that was Tenebris. Unstoppable force met immovable object, time and again, to the point of near-stalemate.

 

The sparring match continued in much the same way for the next half hour. To and fro the two of them went. The dance of battle was joined in their movements as they squared with each other, a violent game of giving and taking that pitched them in turn across the mat. Each of them took their fair share of hits, but as the match waned, it became clear that Lux’s experience was not yet on par with the Commissioner.

 

-----

 

A final blow from his closed fist sent her sprawling to the mat as the proximity alarm sounded. Panting, his chest heaving in satisfied triumph, Tenebris nodded appreciatively at her once more. “You spar with spirit and fight well… for a Thyrsian.” With an obvious twinkle of teasing in his eye, he bowed to Master Organa as he grabbed his weapons belt and buckled it on, making his way back to the cockpit for their approach to Onderon.

 

-----

 

The wind whooshed from Lux’s lungs as she plunged to the mat. Eyes wide and root unsteady, her weary spine groaned when it made contact. But all the Thyrsian could do was laugh. Intermittent coughs staggered in the lapses of her glee, but Lux’s enjoyment would not be stifled. The stressors that plagued her for the past few days were now laying on the mat defeated, one after the other. And even with the nagging ghosts of her past threatening to haunt her and break her euphoria, she simply reveled in the moment. Her hair, no longer tightly bound, exploded from the back of her head like a silver firecracker and sweat glistened like starlight all over her black skin. For one marvelous moment, she felt at peace.

 

Tenebris gave a tease, enjoying the spoils of his victory, and Lux’s smile deepened. She was about to offer a retort and continue with the answers to his earlier questions when the proximity alarm rang and he had to leave. He made his way quickly through the motions and left to the cockpit. It was all a blur, but Lux was still caught in the moment, trying to keep that fire alive. It wouldn’t last, but it was fun while it lasted.

 

She looked after Tenebris as he fled and felt a little disappointed in herself. She knew it was his duty to answer that call and she knew that he would be pressed to do so. Still, the words to answer his curiosity hung on her lips. For another time then. Lux thought, nodding her head and picking herself up off the mat.

[Dashel Illioni]

A smile crept across Dashel’s face. He’d seen quite a few different reactions from various Padawan’s first conscious contact with the Force, but fainting definitely took the care.

Then again, did anyone reckon with a Wookie Padawan remaining still for three days trying to achieve that simple yet complicated goal?

 

He shook his head as rose, stiff legged and hungry from having observed his Padawan through those three days and went to the GrassTiger II’s nearest medkit and retrieved some aromatics, commonly called smelling salts, to revive his Padawan.

 

Before he broke open the capsule whose fumes would assault the Wookie’s nostrils, he took care to observe his charge’s condition and reflect upon what he was about to do. Waking a member of a species whom ran 1600 meter races in just over three minutes and climbed the same distance just as fast meant taking a few precautions.

 

Like being ready when a furry paw swept up to bat away the foul smelling vapors before shoving them back under the Wookie’s nose and dodging the second paw as it swept in from the other side.

Drej finally stirred and Dashel reached his hand out to help the Wookie up and nearly had his hand crushed by a grip that he’d forgotten about in helping the young Wookie up.

 

Once he got Drej seated back into a comfortable position, he looked at the young man and said, “What you touched was the Force, that invaluable ally to a Jedi, the energy field that is generated by, surrounds and flows through all living beings. Welcome to a larger world. That which must always be treated with utmost respect and only used in defense and for knowledge.”

 

He smiled at the Padawan and said, “We are approaching Coruscant, specifically we will be landing next to a ruined hospital where we will announce that the Jedi Council has agreed to donate the site of its Temple to a mega hospital with only a small portion reserved as a shrine to the Order. You have about twelve hours to get cleaned up and ready a set of formal robes for the occasion.”

 

Dash’s smile never waivered as he sat looking up at the Wookie. “You will also need to practice your meditation technique with emphasis on clearing your mind as quick as possible. You will not consciously seek to touch the Force without my being present to assist and guide you.”

 

The last part he made sure to emphasize, pretty sure his Padawan would do so anyway. He would have had he found the Jedi that early in his life.

 

Running a hand over his own face he heard hisown stomach rumble.

 

“Although a bit of food first might be in order unless we both feel like passing out. While we eat, ask any questions you might have.”