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  1. Sixty-Seven Jedi Temple, Tython 35 ATC The day that felt like the longest of Rhys’ life was finally coming to a close. After reporting the details of Angral’s defeat to the Jedi Council and paying a brief visit to a medical droid, he had escaped to a quiet spot on the Temple roof. The temperature was beginning to drop as the evening wore on, but the metal roof tiles were still warm from the afternoon sun. Rhys was content to sit still, steady his breathing, and absorb the beauty of the landscape around him. Below, the Temple grounds were laid out before him, well-tended and orderly. Further out, their neatness gave way without fuss to thick forest interspersed with sharp ridges of bare rock. A few curls of smoke rising up above the trees marked the position of Kalikori Village. Rhys let his gaze follow the smoke up into the sky, where it mingled with the dizzy scatter of clouds painted red and gold by the sinking sun. Tython’s innate light was a comforting glow in the back of his mind. Perhaps the Council would let him stay for a while before sending him out into the galaxy again. What was it Kira had suggested he do? Go on a meditative retreat? Kira. Worry pierced him like a dart, and the serene landscape was suddenly far less comforting a sight. They had spared no detail in their report to the Council—including, at long last, the truth of Kira’s origins. He frowned down at the Temple grounds as worry turned to self-reproach. I shouldn’t have run off up here by myself. I should have stayed with her, made sure she was all right. Surely, she was fine; she was Kira Carsen. She could handle anything the galaxy threw at her. Rhys worried anyway. He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. She had to be down in the Temple somewhere. Could he pinpoint her in the midst of all the other Jedi? He focused his mind, stretching out with the Force. For a moment, the metaphysical brilliance of many Jedi in one place combined with Tython’s own presence threatened to overwhelm him. He maintained his concentration, however, and one light emerged from the multitude. A presence that was shining, true and perfect. Kira. Rhys focused harder. The light was remarkably bright, and he thought he could almost feel its warmth against his skin— “Hey.” Rhys’ eyes snapped open. Kira stood directly in front of him. She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you.” “Oh, no,” Rhys said hastily. “You’re not. Not at all. I was just…meditating.” “I tried that. Couldn’t get my mind to stop bouncing around. Mind if I join you?” Rhys smiled up at her. “There’s plenty of space on this roof.” She sat down next to him. “The masters should teach classes up here. The view is…” Her eyes drifted from the horizon to his face. “…very nice.” “Yes,” Rhys said softly. “It is.” Kira’s smile brightened for a moment, then faded. “How are you holding up?” “I was going to ask you that.” “I asked first.” “I…” Rhys exhaled slowly. “I’m all right. I think it might take some time to fully process the reality of everything that’s happened, but I can handle it.” “You realize you’re being hailed as a hero, right?” Rhys grimaced. “I really thought Jedi didn’t make this big a deal out of things.” “Is that why you’re up here? Hiding from all the congratulations?” “Something like that,” Rhys muttered. “Seeing masters pointing me out as an example for wide-eyed Padawans…it feels too strange. I couldn’t take it anymore.” “That’s why I came up here to find you; it was the most isolated place I could think of short of actually leaving the Temple grounds.” “I’m glad you found me, actually,” Rhys admitted. “I was…I was just thinking about you.” Kira raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” “After what happened with the Jedi Council, I was just wondering if, well—” “Am I okay?” Kira sighed. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I thought they would—I don’t know what I thought they would do. Kick me out of the Order, throw me in jail, pick apart my brain to figure out what the Emperor did to it…okay, maybe not that last one. Jedi aren’t big on vivisection, thank the Force.” “I didn’t realize you were so worried.” Guilt gnawed at him; he should have noticed, he should have said something, but no, he’d been too focused on his own doubts. Looking inward when he should have been thinking about others. Rhys silently vowed not to let that happen again. “I don’t think I realized either. Not until I was actually standing there saying the words.” Kira frowned. “I just wasn’t ready for the way they all looked at me. The way Master Kiwiiks looked at me. Like they’d never seen me before.” Rhys weighed his options and tried for gentle humor. “To be fair, I had trouble imagining you as a Sith too.” “I know, black just isn’t my color.” Kira gave a brief, self-deprecating grin, then became serious once more. “I know it sounds silly, but I guess after all the worst-case scenarios I was imagining, I wasn’t ready for them to just…accept me.” “You’re a good person. The Council knows that.” “I do my best. Still, I’m worried.” She frowned off into the distance. “There’s so much we don’t understand about the Emperor’s power. I broke free of his control once; does that mean I’m inoculated now? Or could he make me turn on you again someday?” “That doesn’t seem likely to me. You’ve proven that you’re capable of resisting his control, and the Emperor strikes me as the kind of Sith who only bets on a sure thing.” Kira raised an eyebrow. “That is word-for-word what you told the Jedi Council.” “It seemed like you needed to hear it again.” “Well…maybe I did.” Kira smiled faintly. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate you standing up for me like that, by the way.” “It was the least I could do,” Rhys murmured. “Still, you didn’t have to.” He met her eyes. “I trust you, Kira.” “Likewise.” Kira glanced down for a moment. “I do feel bad that Master Kiwiiks is taking a leave of absence from active service, but honestly, I’m glad that the Council decided to officially make me your Padawan. I’d hate to split up the team after all the good we’ve done.” “I’m glad too,” Rhys admitted. “I—I would miss you.” “I’d miss you too.” Her smile widened, warm and bright. “I never felt this close to Master Kiwiiks, you know.” Transfixed by that smile, Rhys fumbled for a response. “Adversity forges bonds,” he managed. “Or—so they say.” “We’ve certainly faced our share of adversity.” “Maybe now the galaxy will calm down for a bit.” “That would be nice. Do Jedi take vacations?” Rhys gestured around the rooftop and the scenic vista beyond. “I think this is a Jedi vacation we’re doing right now.” “Ah. Well, at least the company’s good.” “It most certainly is.” “I guess we should enjoy it while it lasts.” Kira sighed wistfully and looked out at the sunset. Rhys nodded in agreement. They sat in companionable silence as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. ***** The Citadel, Dromund Kaas 35 ATC Letters blurred in Saryn’s vision as she stared numbly at the ancient Sith tome lying open on the table before her. It felt strange to be back in her apartment on Dromund Kaas, and stranger still to be alone. For nearly a year, Xalkory had been her nigh-constant shadow, and despite her initial misgivings, she had grown accustomed to his presence. With Darth Angral dead, however, the threat to her had passed, and so Xalkory had returned to his normal duties as Darth Nox’s apprentice. She had expected to be relieved to resume her quiet, solitary existence. Instead… Saryn sighed down at the book. Her mind had wandered yet again. At this rate, she was never going to get any proper research done. She reached for her datapad, determined to take at least a few notes, but was interrupted halfway through the motion by her holocomm chiming to indicate an incoming call. She activated the device without checking the caller’s identity. A miniaturized hologram of Xalkory Arenthe appeared. Saryn schooled her face to impassiveness, although her heartbeat had accelerated rapidly at the sight of him. “This is a surprise.” Xalkory smiled. “Not a bad one, I hope?” “Not at all,” Saryn assured him. “So, to what do I owe the occasion? Does Nox need me for something?” “That depends on your definition of ‘need.’ My master is throwing a party tonight, and…” Xalkory made a show of putting a hand to his forehead and surveying his surroundings. “I can’t help but notice that you’re not here.” Saryn noticed he was wearing a much more ornate version of his usual armor. “I have work to do.” “I thought you might have plunged headlong back into your research.” “You know me too well.” Xalkory’s smile widened. “Can I convince you to take a night off and join me? No one else at this party is nearly as interesting a conversationalist as you.” “Given the company Nox cultivates, I don’t believe that for a second.” “It’s true. I swear.” Xalkory laid a hand over his heart. “Please? I can feel the boredom starting to set in. It’s terrible. I implore you, spare me from this torment.” “Well…” Saryn glanced from the tome to the hologram, then smiled. “I suppose one night can’t hurt.” “Wonderful.” “I need some time to get ready, though.” “I shall endeavor to be patient.” Xalkory looked around. “But really, take your time. This looks like it will carry on the whole night at least.” “I’ll see you soon, then,” Saryn promised, and ended the call. An hour later, having made herself presentable as quickly as she could manage, she made her way through the corridors of the Citadel to the chamber where Nox usually held her parties. She wore the same dress she had been wearing the last time she’d attended one of Nox’s parties, a high-necked sleeveless affair of blue shimmersilk a few shades darker than her eyes. It might have been considered a slight faux pas to wear the same outfit twice in a row, but a year had elapsed between the two events and she was quite fond of that particular dress. Xalkory was waiting outside the door. “Perfect timing,” he declared as she approached. “You’re now fashionably late.” “I told you, I had to get ready.” “And you look beautiful—if you don’t mind my saying so.” Warmth rose in Saryn’s face, and she felt decidedly vindicated in her choice of dress. “I don’t mind at all.” He held out an arm. “Shall we?” Saryn stepped forward and took it, and together they entered the chamber. The space was crowded with the usual assortment of Sith and high-ranking Imperials, all dressed in their finest garb. There had been no official reason given for the impromptu gathering, but there was no doubt in Saryn’s mind that Darth Angral’s demise was the true theme of the evening. He had made an enemy of Nox, and so she celebrated his end, regardless of how well-respected he had been by some. “Quite a large crowd tonight,” Saryn noted. “Everyone wants to show Nox they’re on their best behavior.” “No doubt.” The memory of Acina’s voice flashed through Saryn’s mind: simply because she could… “Speaking of Nox, we ought to find her. I’m sure she’ll be delighted to see you’re here.” “She may be less delighted to see I’m distracting her apprentice from his duties,” Saryn said dryly. “And what duties would those be, exactly?” “Aren’t you supposed to be maintaining order? Drunken Sith and all that.” “Khem Val’s on watch tonight.” Xalkory gestured over to one corner of the room. “Nox gave him leave to eat anyone who misbehaves.” Saryn followed his motion and found the Dashade looming over the nearest guests, who were giving him a wide berth. “As much as I’d love to see his Force-consuming abilities in action, I think I can do without the more literal consuming part.” “Let’s hope no one does anything foolish, then. Shall we find my master?” Saryn wound her arm more tightly around his. “I’m guessing she’s located squarely at the center of attention.” “Naturally.” Xalkory set off into the crowd. Saryn was content to let him tow her along beside him. The other guests were quick to move out of their way; Nox’s apprentice and the Wrath’s daughter made for a formidable combination. The faces were starting to blur together when the nearest group of Imperial nobles bowed and moved to one side, revealing a pair of familiar Sith. Saryn had not expected to see either of them, and let go of Xalkory’s arm in surprise. Jaesa Willsaam smiled as her yellow eyes fell upon Saryn. Her dark red dress was sleek and elegant, accented with angular embroidery that recalled ancient Sith writing. She wore simple black gloves over the dress’ long sleeves, and cradled a glass of something clear and bubbly in one hand. Beside her, Lord Praven made for an imposing figure in classically-styled gray armor. His bearing was different than Saryn remembered from the times she’d met him during his meetings with her mother. Whether it had been deference for the Wrath or shame over being a spy, she wasn’t sure, but there had always been something restrained about him. Now, he seemed to be standing taller than ever, proud, as if daring anyone to challenge him over his recent allegiances. Xalkory accepted that challenge with icy enthusiasm. “Lord Praven,” he stated in the most openly threatening tone Saryn had ever heard him use. “I was not aware Darth Nox had extended her invitation to the apprentices of traitors.” “Darth Angral was not my true master,” Praven said, unruffled. “Now that he is gone, I wish to make my real loyalties clear.” “You betrayed Angral, then?” Xalkory’s voice remained cool. “Given your reputation as a Sith of rare integrity, I find that difficult to believe.” Jaesa took half a step forward. “You sound awfully accusatory. I don’t think I like that.” “It’s all right,” Saryn said quickly. “I can vouch for Praven. He spied on Angral on my mother’s behalf for a long time.” “Did he, now?” Xalkory hesitated for a moment, then gave an incremental nod in Praven’s direction. “If Saryn says your intentions are genuine, then I believe her. You have my apologies.” “Your suspicion is understandable,” Praven said smoothly. “I do not blame you for being wary.” “I would be very interested to hear how you came to serve the Wrath,” Xalkory said. “I realized that Angral was no longer the man he had once been.” Praven glanced at Jaesa. “I was…given an opportunity.” Jaesa smiled and sipped her drink. “I’m an excellent judge of character.” “I had hoped to report to the Wrath in person,” Praven said with a slight frown. “But not even Jaesa knows where she is. Lady Saryn, I don’t suppose you—” “I’m sorry,” Saryn cut him off. “In this matter, I am no better-informed than you.” A tense silence ensued. “I was reviewing some intelligence reports recently,” Xalkory said abruptly. “Praven, I understand you had an encounter with the Jedi who killed Angral?” “I did,” Praven replied. “Rhysven D’Anshir is a formidable Jedi, despite his youth. He bested me in single combat on Tatooine.” “Formidable indeed,” Jaesa commented. “You said he defeated you,” Saryn said. “How did you escape?” “It was not an escape as such,” Praven explained. “We had an agreement: he won the duel, I gave him the codes to the weapon Angral had stolen. He told me to leave, and I felt it best not to force the issue.” “He let his enemy simply walk away?” Xalkory shook his head. “Jedi.” “Jedi,” Jaesa echoed. “They never change, do they?” “I can’t pretend to understand why he would show me such mercy,” Praven said. “But, truth be told, I am grateful to be given this second chance to serve the Empire.” “You seem a noble man, Praven—” Saryn started. “He is,” Jaesa put in. “I checked.” “—and I think you’ll be a fine official addition to the Wrath’s power base,” Saryn continued smoothly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really ought to speak with Darth Nox.” Praven bowed politely. “My lady.” Jaesa’s eyes flickered between Saryn and Xalkory. “Have fun.” “You too,” Saryn said quickly, then hastened away before Jaesa could comment further. “So how did Praven end up serving the Wrath?” Xalkory asked as soon as they were out of earshot. “I don’t know the details. I just went to see Mother one day and there he was.” “He and Jaesa seem…friendly.” “They do, don’t they?” Saryn mused. “I would expect them to know each other; Mother surely had Jaesa confirm Praven’s intentions. Yet it seems as if they’re here at this party, well, together.” “It makes a certain sense,” Xalkory said thoughtfully. “Perhaps it was Jaesa who convinced Praven to betray Angral. She seemed to be hinting as much.” “I noticed that. If they’re involved, my mother clearly doesn’t know; the last time I talked to her, she tried to set Praven up with me.” Xalkory paused in midstep. “She what?” “She made a half-hearted attempt to point out some of Praven’s more appealing attributes.” Saryn eyed him; he seemed to be looking everywhere but at her. “I told her not to bother. I have no interest in him.” “Good.” Xalkory cleared his throat. “I mean—he’s a bit old for you, isn’t he?” “A bit, yes. Honestly, I’m not sure what Mother was thinking. Just trying to distract herself, I suppose.” She shook her head, trying to ward off dark thoughts. “Can we just…I think I sense Nox over there.” “Of course.” They made their way through the crowd and out of it, entering a small circle of empty space centered around a table laden with drinks of every imaginable color, consistency, and luminosity. Darth Nox stood near the table with her back to Saryn and Xalkory, brandishing a glass of something purplish-black. In front of her, Darth Ravage seemed to have deliberately planted himself between her and the table. “You are no fun,” Nox informed him as Saryn and Xalkory approached. “No fun at all.” Ravage glared at her. “I am not letting you ‘electrify the beverages.’ It won’t work.” Nox put her drink-free hand on her hip. “You don’t know that.” “Yes, I do,” Ravage retorted. “Alcohol doesn’t conduct electricity.” “What if it’s a lot of electricity?” “You’ll make the glasses explode.” “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little molten glass,” Nox said mockingly. Saryn looked over at Xalkory. “You might have warned me she was in a mood,” she whispered. “Sorry,” Xalkory whispered back. “She was fine earlier. I blame Ravage. Or the alcohol. Or both.” “Oh, look,” Ravage said loudly. “It’s your apprentice.” Nox turned around. Her dress was pure black and devoid of any adornment, cut low in the front with long sleeves and a skirt that pooled on the floor around her. She wore her hair in loose waves around her shoulders, bright against the dress’ dark fabric. Clasped around her neck was a collar of intricately worked silvery metal. Xalkory bowed deeply. “I’ve brought a special guest, my lord.” Saryn mimicked his bow. “Good evening, my lord.” Nox smiled brightly. “Saryn! I’m so pleased to see you, my dear. Xalkory, since you have a moment, I need you to find Lord Rhiaa. Tell her to give the information directly to you; I am preoccupied with other matters.” “Yes, master.” Xalkory caught Saryn’s eye and gave a brief, apologetic smile, then walked away. Nox turned back to Saryn. “Again, it’s good to see you. I thought you might be too busy with your research to make an appearance this evening.” “Xalkory convinced me, my lord,” Saryn admitted. “I came by to pay my respects.” “You and half the Empire,” Ravage commented. “The way everyone’s been carrying on, you’d think she killed Angral, not that Jedi.” “Didn’t I, though?” Nox took a long sip of her drink. “Did I not throw him to the metaphorical tuk’ata? Did I not, through inaction, allow him to bring about his own destruction?” She drained the remaining contents of her glass. “I believe I did. I warned him. And now he’s dead. You’d think, after all these years, the Sith would learn.” “Angral was a Great War hardliner,” Ravage said dismissively. “You know what they say about teaching an old dog new tricks.” Nox grinned at him. “And yet you heel when I tell you.” “I have better survival instincts than most,” Ravage murmured. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?” Nox thrust her glass at him. “Fetch me more wine, Lord Survival Instincts.” “I’m not fetching you anything.” “Then get out of the way.” “And give you a clear shot to put a Force storm in the punch bowl?” Ravage sighed. “Fine.” He took Nox’s glass, refilled it from a bottle on the table, and handed it back to her. “Thirty years on the Dark Council, and this is what I’ve been reduced to.” “You know you love it.” Nox turned back to Saryn, swirling the contents of her glass. “I’m just glad Angral never sent any assassins after you, dear.” “I’m a little disappointed, to be honest,” Saryn said. “It could have been an interesting experience.” “Ah, the enthusiasm of youth,” Nox sighed. “I do hope having Xalkory around did not inconvenience you too much.” “Actually,” Saryn murmured, “I’ve rather enjoyed his company.” Nox smirked. “I knew you’d come around. Consider it a trial run of having an apprentice of your own.” Whatever her relationship with Xalkory had developed into, Saryn was reasonably certain that master and apprentice was not the term to describe it. She was not about to admit that to Nox, however, and she certainly didn’t want to say anything in front of Ravage. “I’m beginning to understand the appeal, my lord,” she said politely. “You realize the two of them are probably plotting against you, now,” Ravage quipped. “I assure you,” Saryn said quickly, “I am not plotting anything.” Neglecting to inform Nox of Acina’s survival didn’t count as plotting, she told herself. Just a lie of omission, no ill intent at all. “Of course you aren’t. You’re a bright girl.” Nox gave Ravage a pointed look. “If only all Sith were as bright as you.” “Oh, please,” Ravage scoffed. “I haven’t plotted against you in years.” “I’m still not sure whether you actually changed your mind about me…” Nox sipped her drink. “…or whether you just ran out of assassins willing to take the job.” “I decided if you were to be killed, I’d like to do it myself.” “Is that so?” Nox purred. “Tell me, do you still dream of your hands around my throat…or mine around yours?” Ravage shook his head. “I always forget how ridiculous you become when you’ve been drinking.” “Ridiculous, am I? I’ll show you ridiculous.” Nox took an emphatic swig. “There once was a Sith named Darth Ravage.” Ravage sighed heavily. “Who was known to be ruthless and savage.” Nox smiled impishly. “He said murder has no rules—” “Never going to let that one go, are you?” “And honor is for fools—” Nox paused, tapping her fingers against the rim of her glass. “Only rhyme I can think of is ‘cabbage.’” “That’s not a rhyme!” Ravage protested. “Sure it is. It has all the same vowel sounds.” “That doesn’t—” And that’s my cue to make a break for it, Saryn thought. “I’ll leave you to your, uh, discussion, my lords,” she said quickly. “Good evening.” She strode off into the crowd, intending to find Xalkory. There was no sign of him, however, and the buzz of conversation and the mental weight of other beings’ presence in the Force began to weigh on her. Feeling suddenly stifled, she made her way across the chamber to the first exit she saw. The door slid open at her approach; she stepped through it and found herself alone on a balcony. The door closed behind her, muffling the sounds of the party. The balcony overlooked Kaas City. Saryn leaned on the railing and looked out across the urban expanse, an island of hard shapes and lights amidst the formless darkness of the jungle. It was a rare clear night; stars were visible in the sky even through the light of the city. Far out on the horizon, however, a flash of lightning caught her eye. A storm was building, somewhere out there in the dark. She watched the area where she’d seen the flash, listening for thunder, but it seemed it was too distant to hear. A feeling of cosmic unease rose in the back of her mind. Darth Angral’s death had set events into motion, although the exact nature of those events had yet to be revealed. Her dreams had been filled with more violence than usual. The galaxy had taken the first steps onto a path, and they were all racing inexorably towards the end like boats caught up in the current leading to a waterfall. Behind her, she heard the door open, followed by footsteps and the feeling of a familiar presence. “I apologize if I’m disturbing you,” Xalkory said. “I can go if you’d rather be alone.” “Stay.” Saryn turned to look at him and smiled. “Your company isn’t unwelcome. I simply needed a respite from all of, well, that.” She gestured back towards the door. “It can get a bit overwhelming, I agree.” Xalkory took up a position at the railing beside her. “After everything we went through recently, I do feel a bit silly being intimidated by a room full of well-dressed people who aren’t even trying to kill me.” “I think many Sith prefer life-and-death struggles over socializing.” “You say that as if they aren’t one and the same.” “Sometimes they are and sometimes they aren’t. For example, we’re socializing right now, but you’re not in any danger from me.” “Nor you from me,” Saryn murmured. “Isn’t that nice?” More lightning flickered on the horizon, followed by barely audible thunder. “A storm is coming,” Xalkory remarked. Saryn nodded. “Both literally and metaphorically, I think.” He frowned. “You’ve seen something?” “Not specifically. I just have this feeling.” “It makes sense. After what Angral did, the Republic may very well want to retaliate.” “If they do, we’ll be ready for them.” Xalkory nodded. “So what’s next for you, if I may ask? Back to your research?” “That is my plan, yes.” Saryn paused. “I also intend to spend some time with my father. He can always use a Sith at his right hand, and if the Empire goes to war…” She swallowed hard. “I may not get to see very much of him for a long time.” “I’m sure he’ll be glad to spend time with you as well.” “Yes,” Saryn said softly. “I…I suppose I won’t be seeing you very often going forward either, will I?” Xalkory slowly shook his head. “Nox usually keeps me busy.” Saryn looked at him, taking in every detail. His harsh Sith Pureblood features seemed designed for arrogant expressions, but there was only gentleness in the way he was looking at her. His ember-colored eyes held a warm, comforting fire. “I’m going to miss you,” she admitted. “Really?” One brow-ridge went up. “I thought you’d be happy to be able to do your research without me hovering over you.” “I would have thought so too, but…” Saryn smiled wistfully. “I’ve never really had someone I could simply talk to without having to worry about Sith schemes. Someone I can trust enough to just be myself.” “I’m flattered that you would place that kind of trust in me.” Xalkory looked out over the cityscape. “Truthfully, I…will miss you too. I’ve enjoyed your company a great deal.” He turned back towards her with a wry grin. “In fact, I’d say there’s no one else I’d rather tour an exploding ship or be captured by a former Dark Council member with.” “It did get exciting towards the end, didn’t it?” “Speaking of which, if Nox knows about our little escapade, she hasn’t asked me about it. I hope to keep it that way; she has enough to worry about without adding mysterious threats from the Unknown Regions to the list.” “Agreed.” “I think we ought to have a toast,” Xalkory said. “To friendship, and to surviving the aforementioned escapade. Shall I fetch us some drinks?” “Assuming Nox hasn’t obliterated the table, that would be lovely.” Xalkory laughed. “I’ll return shortly.” Saryn smiled at him as he walked away. The expression faded as the door closed behind him and she returned her attention to the view. To friendship, he’d said. Was that how he saw her? I suppose I’m happy with that, she thought. But is that what I really want? Or was I beginning to hope for something more? The storm on the horizon was drawing nearer, thunderheads rolling in to block the stars one by one. Saryn shivered as she watched the oncoming darkness; it reminded her of a vision she’d had. I have no business fretting over my feelings for Xalkory, whatever they may be, she told herself. I’ll enjoy the rest of this night—just this night. After that, I have to return to my research. I have to find to a way to free my mother from the Emperor’s control. I can’t afford to be distracted. Xalkory returned a few minutes later with refreshments in hand. Saryn smiled and laughed and indulged in safe, friendly conversation. All the while, in her peripheral vision, she watched the storm approach. The Empire, and her mother, were running out of time. ***** Emperor’s Space Station, Imperial Space 35 ATC The vast expanse of the throne room roiled and echoed with the Emperor’s rage. Darth A’tro stood beside the throne, hands clasped neatly in front of her. Far above, lightning crackled in the hollows of the ceiling, filling the air with the scent of ozone. The lights along the edge of the chamber flickered erratically as the storm interfered with the station’s electrical system. On the throne itself, the Emperor’s black-shrouded form was a silhouette of pure void that even the lightning could not seem to fully illuminate. Twin points of red light gleamed from within the shadow of his hood. “She dares,” Vitiate growled. Thunder echoed through the chamber as if in response. “My own Child defies me. Betrays me!” A small part of A’tro wanted to be satisfied at the thought of a creature defying the Emperor’s will. Awash in his power, however, she could feel nothing but the anger crashing around her and through her. It made her angry too. How could some small, insignificant Jedi defy this terrible darkness? It seemed impossible. “This cannot be permitted,” Vitiate whispered. “My wayward Daughter will be punished. She will learn that in the end, I am inevitable. There is no escape.” “Shall I hunt her for you, my master?” A’tro asked. “No. Not yet. The time is not right.” Vitiate leaned back in his throne. “For now, my Wrath, I am much more interested in my Child’s Jedi companion…” The storm in the chamber began to subside. In the wake of the thunder came a silence so deep it seemed as if the universe itself were holding its breath.
  2. And we're back! Bendcti and Gelious, thank you for your kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying the story Sixty-Six Aboard Imperial warship Oppressor 35 ATC The blast doors between the bridge of Darth Angral’s flagship and the corridor outside it were closed. They were sturdy-looking, plated with a material that would probably even give lightsabers a challenge. Such measures would not be necessary, however. Rhys could see on the readout of the access console that the doors were unlocked. This did not come as a surprise. By now, Angral surely knew that the Jedi he wanted dead above all others was aboard his ship. There was no point in trying to keep Rhys off the bridge, not when Angral wanted a confrontation. He wants to fight me, Rhys thought. He wants to kill me himself for what I did. And yet he threw away the lives of his soldiers trying to stop me from destroying the Desolator’s power generators. Cutting through the ship’s defenders had pained him, but Angral’s troops had given him no other choice. Caught between their Republic enemies and an Empire that had condemned them as traitors, they had fought to the death. Such a waste. Rhys tried not to let it haunt him. He could not afford to be distracted. Kira stood beside him, catching her breath from the last fight. She kept sneaking little frowning glances at him, probably thinking that he wouldn’t notice. After their conversation on the Mistchaser before arriving at Uphrades, he supposed he couldn’t blame her for worrying. He had never experienced such violent emotion before. Despair had welled up within him, opened beneath his feet in a bottomless chasm that had threatened to swallow him. He could not begin to imagine what lay within that chasm’s lightless depths. But although he had teetered upon the precipice’s edge, he had not fallen. Rhys tried to tell himself that it was his training that had preserved him, kept him focused and steady on his path, but he could not quite make himself believe that lie. It was Kira. Kira had been there, saying all the right things, drawing him back from the edge. If she had not been there… But she was, he thought. She was there, and I…I don’t even know how to tell her how grateful I am. I probably made a fool of myself. I can’t let that happen again. I have to learn to maintain better control. I can’t fall apart every time something bad happens—and if I do, then I need to learn to pick up my own pieces. Kira shouldn’t have to do that for me. He ignored the small voice in his mind telling him that Kira had almost certainly only talked him through it because she wanted to. She could have easily left him alone to meditate and figure it out on his own. Instead, she’d shown genuine concern. Compassion. Caring. Rhys looked over at her. Kira had her hands clasped together in front of her and her eyes fixed on the closed blast doors, a steely expression on her face. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she said. “Good.” Rhys took a deep breath. “Time to finish this.” He marched towards the doors. As he moved, he felt neither fear nor doubt. He did not feel confident, either, but he did not need to. A river did not need confidence to flow; it simply did so. The Force was with him. It would be with Angral, too, but that was all right. The end was upon them. One way or another, it would soon be over. When he was close enough to trigger the proximity sensors, the doors slid open. A dozen soldiers immediately took up position in the entrance, training weapons on the two Jedi. Behind them, the other crew members ducked down behind their consoles to avoid ricochets. Beyond the soldiers, standing before the viewports at the farthest end of the bridge, was an implacable figure in red armor. In the Force, he was a blaze of dark fire beside the crew’s dimmer lights. Rhys looked at the soldiers. “You know who I am and why I’m here. My quarrel is with your master; stand aside, and I will not harm you.” The soldiers exchanged glances, but did not move. Rhys took a deep breath and raised his voice. “Angral!” “You will not steal my victory,” Angral declared in a ringing voice. “Not now.” “Then do something about it!” Rhys challenged. “Stop hiding behind your men and face me.” “Very well.” Angral gestured to the soldiers. “Stand aside and return to your posts. The Jedi is mine.” The soldiers in Rhys’ path quickly parted, taking up positions among the bridge crew. Rhys moved forward, Kira following a step behind him, until he stood at the foot of the short flight of steps leading up to the dais where Angral stood. Rhys had seen Angral in holoimage form often enough, but the Sith Lord looked different in person. Veins blackened by dark side corruption were clearly visible beneath pale skin stretched too thin over his skull. The implant on his left cheek seemed a rivet holding it in place. His thinning, stark white hair and the harsh lines embossed into his face bespoke his age—it had been thirty-five years since Angral’s greatest accomplishment, the Sacking of Coruscant, and those years had not treated him well. Of course, Sith who survived for so long tended to be exponentially more dangerous than their younger, more reckless brethren. “I foresaw this confrontation,” Angral said. “I welcome it.” “What was there to foresee?” Rhys retorted. “This was inevitable. Or did you think I would simply stand by and watch while you destroyed the Republic?” “I was surprised at first when the Jedi Council continued to send you to undo my work. I thought perhaps they would entrust their salvation to someone older and more experienced.” Angral smiled. “But I am pleased that they did not. Now you’ve come to me to die instead of forcing me to sift through Tython’s ashes for your corpse.” “Forget Tython. This crusade of yours has nothing to do with the Jedi. You want me.” Rhys met Angral’s eyes. “Because I killed your son.” “Oh, young Jedi,” Angral murmured, “you know so little of vengeance. To seek an eye for an eye accomplishes nothing. If I were to simply kill you, another would take your place. Pointless. But by destroying not only you, but all the Jedi, I make my mark upon history. I give my son’s death meaning.” Rhys glanced briefly at Tython, shimmering in the viewport. An involuntary shiver ran through him. “I can’t let you do that.” “No? We shall see.” Angral raised an eyebrow. “Your master perished asking me to surrender. Will you do the same?” Rhys shivered again. The air seemed to be getting colder. “Tarnis fought me to the death. I would expect no less from you.” “You have some fire in you after all.” Angral sounded amused. “Good.” The space around them darkened, as if the lights had started to power down. Rhys tensed, bracing himself for an attack. Angral, however, was looking around, frowning suspiciously as the temperature dropped further. If he isn’t doing this, Rhys thought, then what— The cold was coming from beside him. Rhys slowly turned to look at Kira—Kira, who had stood so silent and so still throughout the confrontation. It wasn’t like her. She stood rigid, staring straight ahead as shadows pooled around her. The air warped, light bending and elongating towards her—but no, the level of light on the bridge had not changed, it was an illusion of perception. It was the Force that that had turned so dark and cold as a singularity coalesced into being, a point of utter darkness eclipsing the bright light of Kira’s presence. Rhys reached out desperately with his senses, trying to find some trace of her, but no light escaped from that obscuring void. She was gone. She did not look at him as she walked slowly, as if in a dream, up the stairs to stand beside Angral. Her lips moved and a man’s voice emerged, echoing and hollow. “Finish this, Angral. I command it.” “My master?” Angral asked faintly. “You have done well,” Kira said. No, Rhys thought. Not Kira. The Sith Emperor. He’s here. “The dead of Uphrades sing my glory, and it is good,” the Emperor stated. “But it is not enough.” “I—I do not understand,” Angral faltered. “The Dark Council branded me a traitor for my actions. Your own Wrath—” “My Wrath is a double-edged blade, but one that ultimately strikes as I see fit. Why do you think you still live?” The Emperor smiled with Kira’s face. “You are serving me well, Angral. I am pleased. Complete your work here, and you shall return to the Empire vindicated, bearing my favor.” The shadow ebbed. Kira gasped, falling to her knees as her presence in the Force returned. Relief surged in Rhys’ chest as the temperature rose back to its normal level. She wasn’t gone. “What…what was…” Kira clutched at her head. “The Emperor…” Angral regarded her with a reverent expression. “You are his Child. His eyes, his ears, his weapon to command. You belong to him, no matter how hard you try to cover yourself with the trappings of the Jedi.” He extended a hand. “Come, Child. Fight by my side. It’s where you belong.” Kira glared up at him. “I’d rather jump out an airlock naked.” “You think you have a choice in the matter?” Angral shook his head. “If the Emperor wishes you to fight this battle…you will fight.” “Don’t listen to him,” Rhys said. “You can fight this. I know you can.” “He’s still here,” Kira whispered. She lowered her head, her entire body shaking. “I can feel him in my thoughts. He wants you dead. He wants me to kill you. I won’t—” Shadows rippled over her. “You can’t—don’t let me—” “It’s all right,” Rhys said. The sense of resolve that had filled him as he stood upon the threshold of the bridge returned. “The Emperor won’t get what he wants today. Not from either of us.” “Enough!” Angral cut in. A Force-enhanced leap brought him down the steps to stand in front of Rhys. “You will die now.” Rhys drew his lightsabers. “You’ve done enough damage. No more.” Angral drew a scarlet blade and leveled it at Rhys. “For Tarnis,” he said softly, and attacked. It immediately became clear to Rhys that Angral was a very different opponent from the other Sith he had faced thus far. Praven had had sheer physical power on his side, Nefarid an arsenal of stealth-based tricks, and Sadic had been augmented by the Power Guard project’s technology. Those advantages had made facing them challenging, but Rhys had managed to prevail through sheer skill. When facing a Sith who had mastered the lightsaber before he’d even been born, however, his natural talent suddenly seemed entirely inadequate. Angral fought not with brute strength or cheap tricks, but with guile and strategy. He moved with the utmost precision, testing Rhys’ defenses, using feints and false openings to lure him into overextending himself. Rhys had no choice but to let him dictate the flow of the battle, retreating several steps under the onslaught. Angral struck out rapidly towards Rhys’ left side. Rhys caught the attack on both blades, pivoting slightly as he did so. Angral pushed for a moment, then stepped back. Before Rhys could take advantage of the opening, Angral took one hand off his lightsaber and sent an arc of lightning crackling through the air. The Force gave Rhys the speed he needed to intercept the lightning on crossed blades—barely. The impact sent him staggering backward. He had no time to recover before Angral was on him, battering at him with unnatural strength. Rhys could feel the dark side surging in Angral, letting him push himself well beyond the limits of what his body could otherwise do. His presence in the Force was pure, seething fury. He spun them around so Rhys’ back was towards the stairs leading up to the command dais. He attacked with unrelenting, two-handed strikes, and Rhys was forced to retreat. He tried to remain calm, maintain his focus, but the ease with which Angral seemed to be controlling the battle was starting to unnerve him. I have to do this, Rhys thought. I have to defeat him. I can’t fail again. He took another step backward and stumbled against the stairs. Angral seized the opening and lunged forward. In the brief moment before Angral’s blade could connect, Rhys drew upon every last scrap of strength he had and pushed. Angral was blasted backwards several meters, fetching up in an undignified heap on the deck. Rhys quickly retreated up the stairs to stand atop the dais, their starting positions now reversed. Kira still knelt a short distance away with her head in her hands. “Are you all right?” Rhys asked anxiously. “No.” Kira gritted her teeth. “I’m trying—but—” “Just hold on a little longer,” Rhys urged her. “Once Angral is dealt with, I—I’ll get you to Tython. The Council can help you—” “Don’t think I’ll last that long.” Kira smiled shakily up at him. “Sorry in advance.” “No,” Rhys said. An echo of the pain he’d felt over Orgus resonated through him. “You’re going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.” “He wants me to kill you,” Kira whispered. “I’d rather die than let that happen.” “You’re not going to die,” Rhys said. To his own ears, it sounded like pleading. Below, Angral had finished picking himself up and dusting himself off. He began striding purposefully towards the dais, lightsaber at the ready. Rhys looked from Angral to Kira, cold clutching at his insides. This has to end, he thought. This has to end right now. Could he do it? Could he prevail? What if he defeated Angral and saved Tython, but Kira— You know she can’t fight the Emperor forever, a small voice whispered in the back of his mind. Either the strain kills her, or he takes over and forces you to do it. No. There has to be a way. I can do this. I will do this. First, Angral. Rhys looked down at the approaching Sith Lord. He had been caught off guard by the power of his fury before, but he would not allow that to happen again. Angral would likely expect him to continue with conventional Jedi tactics, stay on the defensive and try to wear his opponent down. But Rhys didn’t have time for another prolonged engagement. Kira didn’t have time. In an echo of how Angral had started the battle, Rhys gathered the Force and leaped. Angral was ready for him. He met Rhys’ charge with perfect form and tried once again to take control of the flow of their duel. He did not succeed. Rhys held nothing back. This was not the time for restraint. In his mind, reality crystallized until nothing remained save one simple concept: defeat Angral. That was all that mattered. Pure instinct took over. The Force rose within him in a dizzying flood. He lashed out against Angral’s defenses with the full ferocity that the Juyo form could bring to bear. Strikes that would normally have been attempts to disarm became attempts to kill. His aggressive tactics left his defenses weak, and Angral’s lightsaber scored several quick gashes in his armor. A few cut deep enough to burn his flesh, but Rhys felt no pain. His universe contained only adrenaline and the whirl of lightsabers dancing a dance that would very soon come to an end. “Where,” Angral demanded, slightly out of breath, “did this come from? This focus—this power—” Rhys caught Angral’s lightsaber on both his blades and pushed forward. Angral staggered backward one step, then another. “Admit it,” Angral panted. “You want me dead. You need it.” “I’ll accept your surrender,” Rhys said through gritted teeth. “If you’re ready to give one.” “Never.” The interlocked lightsabers sent colored highlights dancing over Angral’s pallid face as he smiled. “I can feel the fear rising within you—for yourself, the Child, your Jedi friends. It’s making you stronger. Perhaps even strong enough to defeat me.” “I’m not afraid,” Rhys said hotly. “But I am going to defeat you.” “Are you? Can you still call yourself a Jedi if you strike me down in anger?” Rhys disengaged their lightsabers and stepped back into a guard position. “I’m not angry.” It was true, although he was not feeling particularly calm either; there was too much adrenaline coursing through him for that. His heart pounded at a frantic rate, and worry for Kira had seized him with a tight, relentless hand, but despite these things he was grimly and resolutely focused. “Perhaps not,” Angral conceded. “And still, your light seems to be fading. There is more to the dark side than hate, you know. You would have remarkable potential if you didn’t have to die—” On the last word, he lunged, perhaps intending to catch him off guard. But the Force had already warned Rhys, and he had already started moving out of the way while beginning a counterattack. Instead of Angral’s lightsaber slashing through him, it was the other way around. Angral made a soft, pained gasp and fell to his knees, his lightsaber tumbling from his hand. “You…” “It’s over,” Rhys said grimly. Angral collapsed silently onto the deck. In the Force, his presence flickered like a guttering candle. Rhys looked past him to where the bridge crew stood watching silently, their expressions ranging from resignation to open shock. “Your master is dead!” Rhys declared. Or at least, he will be soon. “You’ve lost.” He pointed one lightsaber at them. “I intend to blow up this ship. I suggest you not be on board when that happens.” Please, he thought, just go. No one else needs to die today. The crew exchanged glances, then began to scramble off the bridge. One man, a nondescript human in a technician’s uniform, lingered behind, watching Rhys appraisingly. Rhys frowned at him. “Did I not make myself clear?” “You’ve done well disposing of this traitor,” the technician remarked. “The Dark Council will be pleased. Rest assured my master will hear every detail of your victory.” He bowed deeply and left. Rhys’ frown deepened. A spy…? Should I have stopped—no, it doesn’t matter now. Darth Angral’s presence in the Force finally faded away to nothingness. Rhys looked somberly down at the corpse for a moment, then turned back to the dais. “Kira—” Kira stood at the top of the stairs, emanating a faint red light. Her eyes were empty; Rhys could feel the void lurking behind them. “Unfortunate,” the Emperor said. “Angral was useful.” “No.” Choking despair rose black and bitter in Rhys’ chest. “Kira. Kira.” “She should not have fought,” the Emperor said gravely. “She is my Child. It is her duty to obey.” “Let her go,” Rhys snarled. Despair turned to molten anger in an instant. His lightsabers quivered in his hands as his entire body trembled from the force of it. “You want to fight me, do it yourself. Leave her out of this.” “That is unnecessary. This Child will learn her place, and so will you.” The Emperor drew Kira’s lightsaber and activated a single blade. “I see futures in you. Futures I will not allow.” He attacked. Rhys barely mustered his defense in time. He could feel the Emperor’s presence, knew it was the Emperor’s mind guiding the blows, but it was still Kira’s hand dealing them. It was Kira’s face watching him with an expression of cold, detached interest, as if he were a specimen in a lab. For all his confident talk, the Emperor was no duelist. Rhys immediately spotted flaws in his offense, openings he could exploit. Instinct showed him the path to take: move his right-hand lightsaber like so, and so, and then bring the left around to— To what? Strike down Kira? It’s not Kira anymore, he tried to tell himself. She wouldn’t want to exist like this. Just like how Galen didn’t want to exist… The moment passed, and the opening was gone. I can’t do it, Rhys thought desperately. I just can’t. He parried the Emperor’s attacks, giving ground. Kira’s empty eyes bored into him. Was she still in there somewhere? Or had the Emperor’s dark presence utterly consumed her? She believed in me, Rhys thought. When everything seemed hopeless, when I had all but given up…she believed in me. I have to give her that same chance. “Kira,” he said. “It’s not too late. You can fight him.” “How amusing,” the Emperor remarked. “She cannot defy me.” “You clearly don’t know Kira very well,” Rhys retorted. “Defiance is something she’s rather good at.” “Her will is nothing beside my own.” “I don’t believe that.” Another opening presented itself. Rhys took it without thinking, letting instinct and the Force guide him. He lunged forward and disarmed the Emperor in a single, perfect strike. Kira’s lightsaber rolled away across the deck. Rhys stepped back into a guard position. He’d executed the disarm perfectly, he noted with relief, with no injury to her hand. “Like her, you are stubborn,” the Emperor stated. “It is not enough.” He lifted Kira’s hands. Force lightning blazed towards Rhys; he raised his lightsabers just in time and caught it on crossed blades. Stray forks of electricity crackled all around him. Earlier, he had deflected Angral’s lightning easily enough, but this was different. This was like trying to hold back a flood. He gritted his teeth and held his ground as best he could, but the dark energy pouring towards him seemed to only be getting stronger. Something had to give. Slowly, inexorably, his lightsabers were pushed back towards him. “Kira,” Rhys gasped. “I know you can fight this. I know…” Holding back the lightning was not only a physical effort, but a mental battle as well. He tried his best to shield himself from the terrible darkness pouring towards him, but he was already strained to the breaking point from fighting Angral. Earlier, he had been so consumed by adrenaline that he’d been beyond pain, but now agony blossomed in his arms, in his head. His lightsabers were shaking in his hands, stray sparks making their way past his defenses and scorching his robes. All the while, Kira stared numbly at him, the violet-edged lightning casting eerie lights over her face and reflecting in her eyes. The last of Rhys’ strength evaporated quite suddenly. He staggered and fell to his knees, lightsabers tumbling from hands that refused to cooperate any longer. The Emperor’s power surged over him in a hungry tide. Tongues of lightning crackled all around him, but it didn’t hurt. This was the dark side in its purest form, channeled by a being of incomprehensible power, and the sensation caused by that power was not pain any more than a glowrod was a star. The lightning left behind a feeling of pure, desolate emptiness, as if it were not damaging his body but rather corroding his very existence. He fought to hold on as reality twisted around him, fragments of thoughts speeding through his mind too quickly for him to catch hold of them. Where was he? The emptiness was swallowing him up, little by little, dragging his essence towards a yawning event horizon— And then it stopped. Awareness returned, and Rhys found himself curled up on the deck. Slowly, tentatively, he forced himself to raise his head and look around. Kira still stood a short distance away. Arcs of lightning tangled around her, wrapping her in a scintillating cloud. Beneath the cloud, shadows grew, enveloping her until all that Rhys could see was an indistinct shape wrapped in darkness and electricity. The Emperor’s voice sounded from within the cloud. “This Jedi will die. Even if you must die with him.” “No,” Kira’s voice responded. “I won’t kill for you. I won’t!” The shadow wavered. The lightning split and divided into increasingly smaller forks until it was gone. Kira slowly became visible again, darkness and red light interplaying and rippling over her body like light reflecting off the surface of water. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut; her arms hung stiff at her sides, quivering visibly as if under a great strain. “I will not give in to you,” Kira whispered. “I am not yours any longer. I am a Jedi.” Light pierced through the darkness surrounding her. It emanated from her skin, from beneath her closed eyelids. The darkness burned away, inch by inch, until it was completely gone. The light continued to strengthen, blazing around her and through her, and for a moment Rhys feared it would consume her. Then the light faded, and only Kira remained. Rhys reached out with the Force, searching for the Emperor’s presence, but there was no trace of him. Kira stared dazedly in front of her for a moment before her eyes tracked downward and went wide. “Rhysven!” She darted forward and skidded down onto one knee beside him. “Are you all right?” “I feel like I should be the one asking you that,” Rhys said faintly, pushing himself up into a seated position. “I’m fine, I think.” One corner of Kira’s mouth quirked upwards. “No, better than fine. It’s as if a shadow has been lifted from my mind that I never even knew was there.” Her half-smile disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. “I could have killed you.” “The Emperor could have. You didn’t let him.” Rhys smiled at her, feeling light-headed. “You saved me.” Kira frowned. “You seem awfully cheery about all of this.” “What’s not to be cheery about?” Rhys looked around the bridge, which seemed to tilt wildly around him as he moved. “Angral and the Desolator have been dealt with, and even the Emperor couldn’t stop it. I’m pretty sure that means we won.” “It…” Kira’s frown faded. “Well… When you put it like that, it sure seems that way, doesn’t it?” Rhys kept smiling. Smiling felt good; it went well with the swimming sensation in his head. “We did it. We actually did it.” “I almost can’t believe—hang on, my comm’s going off.” Kira took out her comlink. “Teeseven? Yes, I read you—no, he’s fine.” She glanced at Rhys. “I think his comm might have gotten a little fried, though…okay. Okay, we’ll meet you back at the Mistchaser.” “What’s going on?” Rhys asked. His surroundings were starting to spin more slowly. “Teeseven says taking out the Desolator’s power generators destabilized the ship’s systems. He’s managed to keep things together for a while, but if we don’t leave soon…” “Ah,” Rhys murmured. “It would be unfortunate if we made it this far only to explode, wouldn’t it?” “Quite.” Kira extended a hand. “Shall we?” Rhys took her hand and levered himself to his feet. Reality wobbled around him, then steadied. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it,” she said softly. Rhys thought she held onto his hand a bit longer than necessary before letting go and fetching all three of their lightsabers with a quick Force pull. He did his best to dismiss the notion as he accepted his weapons from her and clipped them back onto his belt. He was still a bit dazed, he told himself, and probably imagining things. “Come on,” Kira said. “Let’s go tell everyone it’s all going to be okay.”
  3. Sixty-Five Mensaav Laboratory Grounds, Alderaan 35 ATC Alderaan’s mountains were white, their snowy peaks gleaming against the perfect blue sky. The hills pooled at their feet had been green, once. Now the land was black, the forests scorched, kilometers of once-pristine landscape scarred by the fiery hand of war. Rhys couldn’t help but stand still and look at it. The laboratory grounds sat high in a different set of mountains, and he could see just how far the devastation extended. A deep sense of regret filled him as he took in the scene. The history texts he’d read had called Alderaan the jewel of the Core Worlds. He had not been prepared to see how that jewel had cracked itself open. While the Empire and the Republic had been under a ceasefire for nearly twenty years, those terms had not affected smaller-scale conflicts. Alderaan had continued to tear itself apart unchecked even as the Empire and Republic backed away from their proxies. This particular scar was just one of many all across the planet. “House Thul did that,” Kira said, coming up beside him. “That’s what I heard from one of the Organa soldiers. Ten years ago, with Imperial warheads.” Rhys frowned at the distant scar. “How could the Thuls do this to their own planet?” “I don’t know.” Kira sighed. “Normally I’d say something about crazy Imperial weapons of mass destruction, but given that we’ve spent the past several months cleaning up Republic crazy weapons…” “If this keeps going, it won’t matter who wins. There won’t be anything of Alderaan left.” Maybe that’s true of the galaxy as well, Rhys thought. He stared at the scarred land, imagining it on other planets. Kira patted him on the arm. “Come on. We need to go meet Master Orgus.” Rhys flinched in surprise. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” “Are you okay?” Kira asked. “You’ve seemed a little out of sorts ever since we got here.” “I…I don’t know,” Rhys admitted. “There’s just something...” He turned and took in the laboratory grounds. Dead Killiks lay where they had fallen, interspersed with older corpses of the laboratory’s Republic guards. Around the edge of the complex, tall green bushes were in bloom, their floral scent mixing with the smell of decay and smoke. “There’s something strangely familiar about this planet,” he said. “Something in the air that speaks to me. I can’t help but wonder if maybe this is where my family came from. D’Anshir sounds Alderaanian, doesn’t it?” “Sure,” Kira said, shrugging one shoulder. Rhys sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t dwell on this. I know it doesn’t matter. Plenty of Jedi are taken in by the Order as children and go on just fine never knowing who their families were. There’s just something about this place that makes me wonder.” “I think that’s natural,” Kira reassured him. “In a perfect world, we could trade—I get to forget my past, you get to remember yours. It would work out nicely.” Her smile as she spoke was one of her wry ones, which had a distinctly different angle than her friendly smile and less mischief than her most impish grin. The fact that Rhys was starting to categorize the expressions made him uneasy, as it greatly resembled the first steps onto a path he really shouldn’t be walking. Later, he told himself. Think about it later. We have things to do. He looked away from Kira and out at the blackened landscape. “A perfect world wouldn’t look like that.” “I don’t know,” Kira said grimly. “That might depend on who you ask.” Rhys sighed again. Before he could say anything else, his holocomm rang. “Tell me that’s not Lord Nefarid calling to gloat again,” Kira groaned. Rhys activated his comm. It was, in fact, Lord Nefarid. “Hello again,” Rhys said in his most pleasant voice. “I assume you’re calling about the auxiliary power station for the Death Mark.” “The one we just blew up,” Kira added helpfully. Even in miniaturized holo form, Rhys could see Nefarid glowering. “Determined to spoil my fun, aren’t you?” the Sith tutted. “Now I have to set up new power stations somewhere you can’t reach. At most, you’ve bought yourself a few hours. Proud of yourself?” “Jedi do not feel pride,” Rhys said with all the serenity he could muster. “I can’t believe someone so dull managed to defeat Sadic and Praven,” Nefarid grumbled. “Perhaps you’ll be more lively when you’re in the Death Mark’s sights.” “Speaking of which, I have a suggestion,” Kira said. “Why don’t you take the targeting device and shove it up your—” “Kira, please,” Rhys interjected. She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Sometimes these things just slip out.” “Joke while you can, girl,” Nefarid said. “The clock is ticking. Goodbye.” The call ended. Kira put her hands on her hips. “That guy is really starting to annoy me. I know, I know, Jedi aren’t supposed to get annoyed. It’s a metaphor. Mostly.” “He’s taunting us because he knows we’re a threat.” “He’s certainly right about that.” Kira looked around the carnage-filled courtyard and shook her head. “Let’s be on our way, shall we? This place is starting to creep me out a bit.” She started walking without waiting for Rhys to reply. He lingered for a moment, still struggling with an inexplicable sense of déjà vu, then shook himself and jogged a few steps to catch up. “You know,” Kira said as he drew level with her, “I’m starting to feel like we’re getting good at this.” “What do you mean?” “Taris, Nar Shaddaa, Tatooine, now Alderaan.” Kira held up a finger for each location. “We show up, the bad guys posture, we take them down. Day officially saved. And I know—” Her voice faltered. “Things haven’t always—gone smoothly. But we’ve still always managed to do what we came to do.” “I know there’s supposedly no such thing as luck, but—” “Oh, stop that,” Kira interrupted. “I knew you were going to say something like that. I think we’ve pulled off the impossible enough times for it to stop being luck and start being that we’re just that good.” “I don’t want to be overconfident.” “Then how about just confident?” “I think I might be able to manage that,” Rhys murmured. It seemed wrong to admit it, even to himself, but she had a point. Their missions hadn’t always gone completely according to plan, but they had always succeeded in their overall objectives. A year ago, he would never have imagined himself doing the things he’d done. But he’d done them, despite his doubts. Maybe I’ve been too hard on myself. “You’re staring off into the distance again,” Kira said. “Sorry,” Rhys said sheepishly. “I was just thinking about what you said. When you put everything together in a list, it seems…kind of impressive, doesn’t it? It’s hard to believe we’ve done all those things.” “But we have done them.” Kira raised an eyebrow. “If I were Darth Angral, I’d be very worried right now.” “Let’s not put the cart before the dewback.” He’d overheard that one in Anchorhead. “We still have Nefarid and the Death Mark to deal with.” “Of course. I’m sure Nefarid is even more worried.” “He didn’t sound terribly concerned when he called.” “Then let’s give him something to be concerned about.” Kira cracked her knuckles meaningfully. “I’m sure Master Orgus has a plan in mind.” “Come on, then!” Kira picked up her pace and passed him, then glanced back over her shoulder and smiled one of her friendly smiles. “This planet isn’t going to save itself, you know.” The constant voice of his worries and misgivings seemed very quiet when faced with that smile. Rhys took a deep breath, savoring the faint scent of flowers on the cool mountain breeze, and smiled back before moving quickly to catch up. ***** Aboard Imperial shuttle 35 ATC Saryn dozed fitfully in the pilot’s seat of the borrowed shuttle. She knew that she needed the rest—it would likely take her many days to fully recover from the strain she’d put on herself—but true sleep proved elusive. Her mind drifted like a fallen leaf on the surface of a river, tumbling with the current from one thought to the next. An eddy caught her awareness, dragging her down beneath the water’s surface. As her mind relaxed, her guard went down, letting the power in. Rubble. The smell of smoke. A familiar figure lying broken at her feet, whispering her name— Saryn jolted awake, gasping for breath. “Are you all right?” Xalkory asked from the copilot’s chair beside her. He was fine. Of course he was fine. It had just been the vision. Again. “Yes,” Saryn lied. “Some noise from the ship must have startled me, that’s all.” She sighed and adjusted her seat back into an upright position. “I think I’m too on edge to sleep.” “Understandable, given the circumstances.” Xalkory shook his head. “I still can hardly believe it. Darth Acina, alive.” “I’ll admit,” Saryn said dryly, “that revelation was not on my list of anticipated outcomes.” “Did she happen to tell you how she managed it?” “Not as such. Some kind of artifact, I’d guess.” “I suppose that makes sense. Sphere of Technology and all that.” Xalkory gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you planning on keeping your promise not to tell anyone she’s out there?” “Yes. I prefer to keep my word if at all possible. If Acina becomes a threat, she can be dealt with. For now, however, she might prove useful.” “She did seem rather impressed with you.” Xalkory grinned. “In fact, I think the two of you have a lot in common. I’m surprised you didn’t spend the entire time talking shop about Sith arcana.” “I was a little busy trying to negotiate for our lives,” Saryn murmured. “Of course. And I’m very grateful, as I’ve already said.” “You’re welcome.” Silence fell. Saryn turned recent events over in her mind, dissecting and analyzing. Meeting Acina had left her with more questions than answers, most of which would have to go unsolved for the time being. There was one query, however, to which she might be able to obtain an answer of some kind. “Xalkory…” she said slowly. “You know Nox well, don’t you?” He turned to look at her. “To the extent that anyone does, yes. Why?” Saryn chose her words carefully. “Acina said that Nox tried to kill her for no good reason. On a whim. Just because she could, not as part of any larger plan. That doesn’t seem entirely consistent with my impression of Nox, but you know her better than I do. Would she really do something like that?” Xalkory leaned back in his chair. “She might. I don’t know. She always has her schemes in place and they aren’t always apparent, but there are some areas in which she can be…irrational.” “I see.” “You sound disturbed.” “Maybe I am.” Saryn busied herself with the console to avoid looking at him. “Maybe I don’t like the idea of one of the Dark Council’s most powerful members not always acting in the Empire’s best interests.” “I think you’re reading too much into this,” Xalkory said bluntly. “Nox and Acina never got along and everyone knew it. Acina was a threat to Nox, and when Nox saw an opportunity to eliminate that threat, she took it. Standard Sith maneuvering.” “But it hurt the Empire as a whole,” Saryn objected. “Acina was replaced by Xyre, and you saw for yourself how Xyre is. She lacks Acina’s capacity for leadership. She involves herself in Council business so infrequently, her seat may as well be empty.” “What does it matter if she’s not involved? She’s not dissenting, either.” “The Sphere of Technology does important work. It needs competent leadership when the Empire inevitably goes to war.” “And it could do far worse than Xyre.” “I suppose. I still don’t like it.” “Why not? If the other Council members are weak, it means more power for Nox.” Xalkory raised a brow-ridge. “And for your mother—and, by extension, for both of us.” “The more power Nox acquires,” Saryn said softly, “the more important it becomes that she can be relied upon to use it properly.” “Which she can be.” Xalkory twisted in his chair to face her more directly. “Saryn, I do know Nox better than almost anyone, and I know that while she can be eccentric, everything she does leads towards the ultimate goal of a better Empire. Maybe she did kill Acina—tried to, rather—on a whim. Maybe that was a mistake. But one error in judgment doesn’t undo everything else that she’s done right.” “That is true, and I should not need to be reminded of that fact.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I apologize if I gave offense.” “No offense was taken,” he said smoothly. Saryn sighed. “I know perfectly well what Nox has done for the Empire. I suppose she can be allowed a little eccentricity here and there as long as it doesn’t result in too many important people dying.” “Acina was probably trying to get into your head, make you suspicious of your allies’ motives.” “No doubt,” Saryn said. Her feeling of unease remained, but she decided not to pursue the topic further. She checked the navigation console again. Soon, they would be close enough to Imperial space that she could call her father and update him. She’d been out of contact long enough that he was probably starting to worry. Saryn felt a twinge of guilt at that; Quinn probably had entirely too much to worry about already without her adding to it. “Do you know why I think Nox is good for the Empire?” Xalkory asked abruptly. “You’re her apprentice. I imagine that opinion is mandatory.” “It’s not just that.” He paused, drumming his fingertips against the arm of his chair. “What do you know about the group that calls themselves the Truest Sith?” “Pureblood extremists,” Saryn answered promptly. “They live out in the desert on Korriban, eschewing the Empire in favor of following the ancient traditions of the Sith. Or at least, their version of them.” “So you know who they are. Did you know that I was once one of them?” “I’d heard rumors,” Saryn admitted. “I thought it was just gossip. An attempt to discredit your reputation by associating you with, well…” “Traitors,” Xalkory said flatly. “By the common definition. Close-minded, short-sighted traitors.” He sighed and looked off into the distance. “It all started during the Great War, when the Empire reclaimed Korriban. A Sith Lord whom I will not glorify by naming decided he’d had enough of doing his duty, so he took his followers, stranded them out in the desert, and proceeded to bask in the glory of his cult for the next few decades. “It’s all an arrogant, pointless charade. They act as if they’ve dwelled on Korriban for a thousand years straight when it’s been less than fifty. They call themselves ‘truest’ as if their way is the right one, but it’s a lie. They, more than any others, have forgotten what it means to be Sith.” His jaw clenched. “Peace is a lie. Through power, we gain victory. To be Sith is to adapt, to fight, to overcome. We must embrace conflict and change, not cling to the old ways until we stagnate and rot!” Saryn had never seen him like this, so animated, so passionate. The scowl etched onto his harsh features seemed to belong there. The venom in his voice increased with every word spoken, as if a fire contained deep within him was beginning to burn free of its enclosure. Had that fire always been there, burning behind those ember-colored eyes, or had the topic ignited it? In that moment, he looked dangerous. More dangerous than when they’d fought the battle droids on the wrecked ship. More dangerous than when he’d faced down Acina and her army without flinching. That danger might have frightened someone else, but Saryn was a Sith. She’d known danger her whole life. And she liked it. Xalkory took a deep breath and continued in a quieter voice. “Nox is an instrument of change. That is why I follow her. She will transform the Sith into something greater.” “I understand,” Saryn said softly. “In this, our viewpoints are largely aligned.” She raised a brow-ridge. “I am very curious, however. If the Truest Sith are as insular as you imply, how did you go from that to where you are now?” “When I was, oh, ten or eleven, I found a holocron in a cave. It was damaged, but still functional. The Sith Lord imprinted on it told me about the glory of the Empire.” Xalkory shrugged one shoulder. “I decided that sounded much more interesting than sitting around in the desert for the rest of my life, so I left. Found my way to the Sith Academy, where Nox found me. And that was that.” “A holocron,” Saryn said, perking up. “In a cave out in the middle of nowhere? Whose was it?” “I wish I knew. The keeper was female, I know that much, but her image was hooded and cloaked. She never told me her name. I don’t know if that part of her databank was corrupted, or if she simply didn’t trust me.” “That’s unfortunate.” Saryn frowned thoughtfully. “Strange that a holocron from Korriban would tell you about the Empire, given that it was founded after our people were driven away following the Great Hyperspace War. What did it look like, exactly?” “A pyramid.” Saryn glared at him. “How helpful.” “I still have it, you know. I took it with me when I left. Nox had it for a while, then gave it back to me when I finished my training.” “Oh.” Saryn hesitated, trying not to sound too eager. “Do you think… Perhaps when we return to Dromund Kaas…” “Of course you can look at it.” He smiled. “Honestly, I wouldn’t mind finding out who created it. I owe her a great debt.” “Wonderful. Now, I should probably call my father.” Xalkory nodded. Saryn took out her holocomm, which had been confiscated and subsequently returned by Acina’s people, and entered her father’s frequency. It took Quinn longer than she would have expected to answer the call. “Saryn!” he said immediately. “I’ve been trying to contact you. What is your status?” “I’m fine, although I’m afraid I can’t say the same for the shuttle you loaned me.” Saryn frowned. “Or the ship you sent me to find.” “That is unfortunate to hear, but I’m glad you’re all right.” Quinn’s expression was grave. “You can give me the full details of what you found later. Right now, I need you to return to Dromund Kaas immediately.” “Dromund Kaas? I was going to meet you back at Vaiken.” Quinn shook his head. “Darth Angral has made his move. He’s taken his new superweapon and attacked a Republic planet. If the Republic retaliates…” “It will mean war,” Saryn finished. “Correct,” Quinn said briskly. “That is why I want you back on Dromund Kaas. The edges of the Empire may not be safe for much longer.” “Yes, Father,” Saryn said, knowing better than to argue with that tone. Quinn smiled briefly. “Take care, my dear. Quinn out.” The holoimage vanished. Saryn looked at Xalkory. “This is it, then,” he said. “So it would seem.” “Any insights from your visions?” Saryn shook her head. “I’ve seen very little that has anything to do with Angral.” “Just as well, I suppose. Keeps things exciting when you don’t know what’s going to happen.” “That’s one way of putting it.” Saryn looked thoughtfully out the viewport. “I suppose all we can do now is just wait and see what’s going to happen.” ***** Aboard Defender-class starship Mistchaser 35 ATC The mission was over. Kira was no longer smiling. Rhysven was meditating in the cargo hold. She had the sense he wanted to be left alone, so she did her best to find things to do in other areas of the ship. She double-checked the navicomputer, though she had no doubts about T7’s abilities to plot the course. She took inventory of their supplies and found everything in order. She checked the comm terminal again, although there were no new messages since the last transmission from General Var Suthra. She cleaned and sterilized the deck by the hatch where they’d tracked in some Alderaanian dirt. These tasks could only keep her occupied for so long, however. Finally, Kira couldn’t take it anymore. She did her best to center herself, then ventured down to the lower deck to check on Rhysven. Maybe, she thought, I’m worrying too much. He’s a Jedi, and a very good Jedi, at that. Even when Angral— She paused on the stairs, the scene replaying in her mind. It would probably be etched there in stark clarity forever. Tell me, Jedi, are you afraid to die? There is no death. There is the Force. If there is no death…where is my son? In that moment, Rhysven’s expression had not changed. He had simply stood as if made of stone, watching as Angral cut Orgus down. But Kira had felt his reaction in the Force, a shockwave of raw emotions. Grief. Anger. And shame. He blamed himself, as Kira knew he would. Stars, maybe she shouldn’t have left him to try to cope with it alone. Kira had known loss before, but compared to her, Rhysven had lived a very sheltered life. The Jedi were all he knew. And Jedi, in her experience, did not always practice what they preached when it came to compassion. It was her duty, therefore, to do better. Kira marched the rest of the way down the stairs. As she neared the cargo hold, irregular humming sounds became audible. She rounded the doorway to find that Rhysven had abandoned meditation and was practicing lightsaber forms. When it came to dialogues and decisions, he was often unsure of himself, but there was nothing but confidence in his movements. Jedi often practiced with their lightsabers on a low power setting, lest a misstep cause serious injury, but Kira could tell from the pitch of their hum that Rhysven’s weapons were at full power. He seemed beyond the danger, moving with exquisite grace and speed. When the Jedi training masters spoke of treating one’s weapon as an extension of one’s body, this had to be what they meant. I don’t think I could ever move quite like that, Kira thought wistfully. Not if I trained for my whole life. The sight was as mesmerizing as any performance, and she could not bring herself to interrupt him. Despite her best efforts to be unobtrusive, Rhysven turned, saw her, and came to an immediate halt. He lowered his lightsabers to his sides, then deactivated the blades and stowed them on his belt. “Sorry if I disturbed you,” Kira said. “It’s fine,” he said, so calm and composed that she was not sure whether it was really fine or not. That composure wavered a moment later as he said, “To be honest, I was expecting you to come down here to check on me sooner or later.” “I’ll have to work harder on being unpredictable, then,” she said dryly. His mouth twitched in what looked like an attempt at a smile. “This is the part where you ask if I’m okay, right?” Kira shook her head. “What happened on Alderaan was…rough, to put it mildly. I don’t expect you to just brush it off and keep going like it was nothing.” “We aren’t supposed to grieve for those who become one with the Force.” “I don’t think that means you aren’t supposed to feel anything.” “I never said that I was trying to do that.” “No, but I think I know you well enough by now to see these things without you having to say them.” Rhysven exhaled harshly and sank down into a seated position on the floor. “All right, then. What should I be doing? How should I be responding to all of this—since clearly, my own instincts on the matter aren’t reliable.” That caustic tone was not something she was accustomed to hearing from him. “I’m sorry,” she said, taken aback. “I’m not trying to lecture you. I can leave if you’d rather be—” “No,” Rhysven said quickly. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you’re just trying to help.” He bowed his head. “And I appreciate it. Really.” Kira walked into the hold and sat down in front of him. “So, uh…” The sense of purpose that had led her there drained away in a rush. “Do you…want to talk?” “I’m not sure what to say.” He choked a semblance of a laugh. “Not that that’s anything new.” “I think you’re being too hard on yourself—” “I knew you were going to say that.” Rhysven’s jaw clenched. “Damn it, now I’m snapping at you again. I’m no good at this. I’m sorry. This is not how a Jedi should act. It’s…embarrassing.” “You don’t have to be perfect all the time, you know.” He sighed. “I just…I just keep playing it over and over in my head.” “So do I,” Kira admitted. “I don’t think I’m ever going to forget it.” “I keep analyzing it. Trying to figure out if there was something that I could have done differently.” “Angral was thousands of kilometers away. There wasn’t anything you could have done.” Kira paused. “It’s not your fault.” “All of this is my fault,” Rhysven said bitterly. His hands balled into fists in his lap. “Everything that’s happened—everyone who has died—it’s all been because of me. Because I killed Tarnis.” “You can’t blame yourself for that!” Kira protested. “I was there. He attacked us. You didn’t have a choice.” “I should have tried harder. I should have taken him prisoner, not killed him. We could have negotiated with Angral and spared everyone all of this.” “Do you really think Angral would have negotiated?” Rhysven hesitated. “He…he might…” “He wouldn’t have,” Kira said flatly. “He would have attacked the Republic anyway to get Tarnis back. It was out of your hands.” “Was it fate, then? The will of the Force, guiding me towards this moment?” “Those kind of questions aren’t really my area of expertise.” “I used to love those kinds of questions,” Rhysven said glumly. “Life, the Force, what it all means. The universe and our place in it. I used to read the most interesting books when I was a Padawan. Now, I just kill things and get people killed.” He looked so forlorn that Kira had a sudden urge to hug him. She resisted. He didn’t seem like the type of person who welcomed unsolicited hugs, and Jedi tended to frown on that sort of thing. “Maybe after we’ve taken care of Angral, you could take a vacation,” she said lightly. “A ‘meditative retreat’ or whatever they call it. Go sit in the woods on Tython for a while and not let anyone bother you.” “You think we’ll ever actually do that? ‘Take care of Angral?’” “Of course! We’re tracking his ship, aren’t we? If he isn’t at Uphrades when we get there, then we’ll catch him at the next place. Or the one after that. Whatever it takes. But we are closing in on him. I can feel it.” “I wish I had your confidence,” Rhysven sighed. “I think I did for a little while, after Tatooine. I thought, if I managed to talk down Lord Praven and save Master Kiwiiks, I could do anything. But I can’t. And so now I have to add Master Orgus to the list of people I didn’t save.” “Master Orgus made his choice,” Kira said, echoing General Var Suthra’s words from earlier. “He knew what he was doing. You can’t blame yourself for that.” “I should have gone with him.” “There wasn’t time.” “I could have killed Angral by now—” “There wasn’t time.” “I know!” He stood abruptly and began pacing rapidly back and forth. Kira got to her feet. For once, she wasn’t sure what to say. Rhysven’s pacing slowed. “I…I didn’t even know Master Orgus that well. Not really. But from the moment I met him, it seemed like he saw something in me that made him believe in me.” He came to a halt in front of Kira. “I can’t help feeling like I let him down.” She looked up at him, trying to find the right words. He was normally so guarded, so calm, but not now. The walls had come down. Pain was etched openly across his face in the set of his jaw and the lines between his brows. His winter-gray eyes were wide as they met hers. For the first time, she caught a glimpse of the real Rhysven without the mask of practiced serenity. And it was a mask, she could see that now, for it was not just pain that she could see written on his face and sense emanating from him in the Force. It was fear. Fear that their mission would fail. Fear that he had failed too many times already. “I know,” Rhysven continued before Kira could say anything, “that it was his choice. It was a sacrifice made willingly. That’s what Jedi do.” He sighed. “It just doesn’t seem fair.” “The universe is a lot of things,” Kira said softly, “but fair is definitely not one of them.” “That is becoming increasingly apparent.” He took a deep breath, turning away from her as he did so. “So be it, then.” “I’m sorry,” Kira said. Rhysven turned back to face her. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” “It was a sympathy ‘sorry,’ not an apology.” “Oh.” His smile was small and sad, but it had weight. “Thank you. I’m very lucky to have you here, Kira.” “No such thing as luck,” she demurred. “Then the Force was feeling generous when it threw us together.” Some of the sadness left his smile. “It’s been a good partnership.” “I like to think I’ve been reasonably helpful,” Kira said dryly. “Apart from the time when you had to rescue me from Angral’s inquisitor and the time we had to fight my weird Sith sort-of-family.” “Neither of those incidents was your fault.” “If I’m not allowed to blame myself for things, then you’re not allowed to, either.” Rhysven frowned. “I…I don’t think that’s how it works.” “Says who?” “I see what you’re trying to do.” Kira put her hands on her hips. “And what is that?” “Make me feel better,” Rhysven said flatly. “Don’t worry. I’m learning. It’s painful, but…” He sighed. “I promise you won’t have to do this every time something goes wrong. I’ll keep it together from now on.” There was an edge in his voice that made Kira wary. “Don’t go all suffering in silence on me.” “I won’t.” “I’ll hold you to that.” “I won’t disappoint you.” Rhysven put his hands together and gave a small Jedi bow. “Thank you for talking this through with me.” And just like that, the mask was back. Calm, collected, and perfect. The image of the haunted young man hiding behind it lingered in Kira’s mind, however. “You don’t have to do that around me, you know.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she’d had time to consider them. “Do what?” Rhysven asked. She’d committed, now. She plunged forward before she could second-guess herself. “I get that you feel like you have to be this model Jedi all the time, but you don’t have to do this with me. I’m not going to judge you for not being perfect.” He stared at her as if she were speaking an unintelligible alien language. Great. “What I’m trying to say is,” she continued, “I just wish that you felt like you could be yourself around me. I see glimpses of the real Rhysven from time to time, and he seems very nice. I wish you’d let him show more often.” “Kira,” Rhysven said, looking everywhere but at her, “the real me doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.” His voice cracked slightly on the word “hell.” Strong language? Maybe I’m getting through to him. “Last time I checked, that wasn’t a requirement for being a good person.” “Well, I—I’m glad you think so.” He still wasn’t looking at her. “And I’ll take what you said, um, under advisement.” “That’s all I ask.” Kira bit down on the inside of her cheek as nervousness curled in her stomach. Had she gone too far? Been too informal, too personal? He just seemed so uncomfortable so much of the time. She liked to put people at ease. That was all there was to it. It was definitely presumptuous for a Padawan to talk to a Knight like that. She probably should have kept her mouth shut. Too late for that, though. Rhysven finally looked at her again. “You’re very kind, Kira. I appreciate everything that you do.” The compliment brought an unexpected rush of something. “Stop it, you’re making me blush.” “We can’t have that,” Rhysven said gravely. He opened his mouth, then closed it, pressing his lips together in a firm line as if to hold something back. He cleared his throat. “I should check in with T7 about the course.” He was out of the cargo hold before Kira had a chance to respond. In fact, if she weren’t mistaken, he’d used a touch of the Force to move even faster. She frowned at the space where he had been standing. Was it something she’d said? Stars, maybe she had gone too far with her comments. Maybe she had presumed too much about the nature of their relationship, been too informal, too candid. All she had wanted was to make sure that he wasn’t afraid to open up a little. That wasn’t such a terrible concept, was it? Well, the question of whether or not she’d screwed things up could wait. They’d have plenty of time to chat after Uphrades. After Angral. After…
  4. Thank you, Bright! Sixty-Four Unknown Location 35 ATC Saryn awoke to a stabbing pain in her temples and the sensation of lying on something that felt suspiciously like a floor. Her head, however, seemed to be propped up on something relatively soft. She opened her eyes to the sight of Xalkory’s face and a ceiling that looked like part of a starship. “Good, you’re awake,” he said. “I was starting to worry.” The open concern in his voice surprised her. She tried to move her head, which she realized must be resting on his lap, and winced as the pain intensified. “She’s conscious, then,” said an unfamiliar voice from nearby. “My medic can—” Xalkory looked up with a scowl. “We’ve been over this. Touch her, and you die.” “I’m only trying to help, my lord.” “Help,” Xalkory scoffed. “With a blaster to my head. Of course.” Alarm shot through Saryn. She forced back the pain in her head and pushed herself up into a sitting position. They were in a compartment of an Imperial shuttle. An armored trooper held a blaster a few inches from Xalkory’s head, while a human male in a lieutenant’s uniform hovered nervously in the doorway. “What is the meaning of this?” Saryn demanded. She put as much authority into her voice as she could muster. “Who are you?” “We’re prisoners and they won’t say,” Xalkory said sourly. “I’m sorry, my lord,” the lieutenant said. “I’m not at leave to disclose my orders. Rest assured you will not be harmed and we will be arriving at our destination shortly.” He gave a curt bow and walked away, revealing several more armed troopers standing at the ready in the adjacent cabin. Saryn looked at Xalkory. He seemed to be ignoring his blaster-toting shadow, so she did her best to do the same. “How long was I out?” she asked. “A few hours. What you did back there…it was incredible. You saved us.” “Did I, though?” Saryn sighed. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. If you hadn’t had to carry me out of there, you could have fought them.” “I could have dropped you and fended for myself,” Xalkory murmured. “Wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if anything happened to you, though.” “Still, I feel responsible. We were only on that ship because of me.” “It happened. We should focus on the present. And I don’t blame you.” He shook his head. “If anything, I should have been better prepared for the possibility of a trap.” Saryn glanced up at their silent guard. “Do they know who we are?” Xalkory nodded. “I told them. Thought it might buy us some time.” “The lieutenant’s accent sounded real,” Saryn observed. “That reduces the likelihood that they’re disguised pirates.” “They do seem like the genuine Imperial article. What I haven’t gotten out of them is whether they’re straight up rebels, or just in the service of a Sith trying gain leverage over Nox or your mother.” “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” “I suppose we will.” Xalkory arched a brow-ridge. “Or we could kill them all and take the shuttle, if you’re feeling up to it.” The trooper moved his blaster considerably closer to Xalkory’s head. “No,” Saryn said quickly, before the man could get any ideas. “No killing Imperials unless we absolutely have to.” “I would have thought you of all people wouldn’t hesitate to kill traitors. Doesn’t it run in the family?” “We don’t have enough information,” Saryn said firmly. “I want to find out what’s going on.” “Why do I feel like I’ve already told you that curiosity killed the vine cat?” “Because you have.” Saryn smiled wryly. “And I told you then, I’m not a vine cat. So why worry? Satisfaction brings it back, anyway.” Xalkory gave a short laugh. “You seem to be feeling all right. I’m glad.” “And I’m glad these nice people haven’t shot you.” “On that, we can agree.” Saryn nodded and busied herself with unbraiding and rebraiding her hair; after getting thrown around the crumbling ship and nearly sucked into space, it had become unacceptably disheveled. She would be damned if she faced whoever they were being taken to without looking as close to her best as she could possibly muster. It was not long before she felt the distinctive shock that indicated the shuttle had left hyperspace. A few minutes later, the deck quivered beneath her, suggesting they had entered an atmosphere. “Here we go,” Xalkory commented. “Ready?” “Of course.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt; while her period of unconsciousness seemed to have restored some measure of her energy, she was still far from being at peak strength. The shuttle jostled for a moment, then was still. The rumble of the engines died away. A moment later, the lieutenant appeared in the doorway. “We’ve arrived. Please follow me.” Saryn eased herself to her feet. Her head only spun a little. “Very well, then,” she said smoothly. Always act as if you’re in control, even when you’re not. “I look forward to meeting your superiors.” The lieutenant did not reply. Saryn followed him out of the shuttle, Xalkory trailing close behind with his guard. Outside, a dim red sun hung high in a violet-tinged blue sky. The air was cool, but not uncomfortably so, with a breeze that carried an earthy, vegetative scent. The shuttle had landed on a prefabricated pad that was set up in the middle of a wide open square paved with intricate, interlocking stones. Around the edge of the square stood buildings made of the same stone. Most were overgrown with moss, their windows dark hollows that held the occasional glint of a turret gun. Other buildings had collapsed, gnarled trees with dark coniferous foliage clutching at their crumbled remains with wide tangles of roots. Imperial prefab units intermingled with the ruins. Many of them were being steadily encroached upon by the same moss and roots devouring the old buildings. Soldiers in armor and in uniform moved around the area, along with a few beings dressed like civilians. As Saryn watched, the unmistakable wedge of a Terminus-class starship drifted into view along the horizon. This is not a new encampment, she concluded. These people have been entrenched here for some time—but why? And where are we? The architecture of the ruins and the flora were entirely unfamiliar to her. The lieutenant led them across the square. Two masked and armored figures who were unquestionably Sith met them halfway. “My lord,” the lieutenant said, bowing deeply before the Sith. “These are the ones I mentioned in my message. I have their weapons here.” He held out Saryn and Xalkory’s lightsabers. Saryn winced as she realized that she had not even noticed her weapon’s absence. Never mind that she preferred to fight without it; that sort of carelessness would get her killed if she kept it up. “Very good, lieutenant,” said one of the Sith, taking the lightsabers. “That will be all.” His mask turned towards Saryn. “We know who you are, Saryn Zaraine, and my master wishes to speak with you. Alone.” “Very well,” Saryn said. “Saryn—” Xalkory started. “I’ll be all right.” “Of course you will. My master’s intentions are honorable.” The Sith nodded to his compatriot. “Atarine, escort her. I will keep an eye on this one.” Atarine set off without a word across the square. Saryn quickly followed. “So,” she heard the first Sith say from behind them. “I hear you’re the apprentice of Darth Nox. I hope you cause trouble. I’d like to see what you can do.” “Be careful what you wish for,” Xalkory retorted. Worry twisted unexpectedly in Saryn’s stomach. She’d seen him dying at a Sith’s hand amidst rubble, and here they were in a ruined city surrounded by potential enemies. Was her vision about to come to pass? She could not allow herself to be distracted. She took a deep breath and made herself focus. Xalkory could handle himself. She had no reason to be concerned. No reason at all. Atarine led her not into one of the prefabs as she had expected, but into one of the ancient stone buildings. Inside, the overgrowth had been cleared away and light fixtures set up, illuminating an elaborate frieze of humanoid figures decorating the walls. They headed up several flights of stairs, then emerged into a narrow hallway that appeared to run the entire length of the building. The outer wall was lined with windows that overlooked the square below. From that height, Saryn could see that the ruins were a small island of cleared space amidst an ocean of thick forest that stretched all the way to the horizon. Far above the trees, the Terminus-class ship she had spotted earlier was joined in its patrol by a second vessel of the same model. A human woman stood a short distance down the hallway, looking out one of the windows. She wore light Sith armor over an elegant dark red robe. There was no doubt in Saryn’s mind that this was the leader of this mysterious faction. Her strength in the Force was palpable, much greater than Saryn would have expected. This, Saryn thought, might be a problem. “My lord, I’ve brought the girl as you requested,” Atarine said. “That is no mere girl,” the Sith Lord said coolly. “That is a Sith. Do not take her lightly. I know I certainly won’t. Now, leave us.” Atarine bowed and retreated back down the stairs. The Sith Lord turned away from the window and moved with a purposeful stride towards her visitor. She looked a few years older than Saryn’s mother, with a regal face and steel-gray hair pulled back into a severe bun. The dark side of the Force had turned her eyes pale orange, and the fractal lattice of a lightning scar ran down from her right cheek to disappear beneath her high collar. “So you are the Wrath’s daughter,” she said. “I can sense your power. She must be proud.” “Do I know you?” Saryn inquired. The Sith Lord gave a smile that did not reach her eyes. “They do not teach young Sith of failures like me. Perhaps they should. I am Darth Acina.” “You’re lying,” Saryn said immediately. “Darth Acina was killed ten years ago by Darth Nox.” “You speak with such confidence.” Acina’s smile widened. “Very much like your mother. But I assure you, I am telling you the truth.” “Darth Nox is not so careless as to leave an enemy alive.” “I was the master of the Sphere of Technology. Do you think it impossible that I had some secret, some artifact at my disposal that allowed me to escape even Nox?” “I—” Saryn faltered. “I suppose. It could be possible. And I suppose it would be unlikely for someone to impersonate a disgraced Dark Council member.” Unlikely, but not impossible. Yet as much as she wanted to believe that the woman standing before her was not who she claimed to be, there was no denying her strength in the Force. That couldn’t be faked. “Very well then…Acina.” Saryn deliberately omitted her title, looking for a reaction. “What do you want from me?” Acina did not react. “For now, just to talk. The situation created by your presence here is unprecedented. I have not yet decided on a course of action.” “Situation,” Saryn repeated. “You mean having the Wrath’s daughter as a prisoner.” “Yes.” “I’m sure I make a valuable hostage,” Saryn said tightly. “But know that I will not simply stand by and allow myself to be used as a bargaining chip.” “I would not expect you to.” “Then what do you expect?” “Trouble,” Acina said flatly. “If that’s the case, then why go to the effort of capturing us alive?” “You misunderstand. I had no idea you and your companion were aboard that wreckage; if I had, I would have issued strict orders to leave you there.” “Leave us there to die, you mean.” “It’s not personal,” Acina murmured. “I bear you no ill will. But having high-profile Sith learn of my presence here creates complications that I would have preferred to have avoided.” “I’m sure it does. So why are we still alive?” At least, I’m still alive. Xalkory could be… She stretched out with the Force and felt no indication of conflict or death in the vicinity. A small comfort. “Are you close to your mother, Saryn?” “I like to think so,” Saryn said warily. “Then she would likely sense your death, and her retribution would be swift and terrible.” Acina pursed her lips. “I have always held Darth A’tro in high regard. I would rather not make her my enemy without cause.” “It seems to me you’ve already done that. After all, it is the Wrath’s duty to hunt down traitors.” “I am not a traitor,” Acina said with feeling. “And this is not a rebellion. I am, and have always been, loyal to the Empire.” Saryn frowned. There was a piece missing. “If that’s the case, why are you hiding out here?” “If I were to show my face in Imperial territory, I doubt Nox would hesitate to finish what she started.” Acina looked away, one corner of her mouth twisting. “Survival…cost me. I will not throw my second chance away without cause.” She’s afraid of Nox, Saryn noted. Maybe I can use that. But not yet. I need more. “You said you didn’t know that Xalkory and I were aboard that destroyed Imperial ship. Why did you send your men, if not to capture us?” “Search and rescue.” “How nice of you.” Acina shrugged one shoulder. “I did not expect them to actually find anyone alive.” “Then why bother?” “The same reasons that brought you out here, I suspect: to find out what happened.” “I’m afraid you won’t be finding much from the disintegrated remains.” “Indeed not. But you…” Acina eyed her. “You were on board. You must have seen something.” Saryn frowned. “I have no reason to tell you anything.” Acina clasped her hands together in front of her. “I have a theory about what happened to that ship, and I believe your information is what I need to confirm it. I will be generous: tell me what you found, and I will share what I know with you.” “What if I feel disinclined to cooperate?” Saryn asked. “I am being very reasonable,” Acina said softly. “If you prove obstinate, I may become less so.” Saryn’s mind raced. How should I play this? She wasn’t prepared. She could not have possibly been prepared—prior to a few minutes ago, her chances of having to deal with Darth Acina had seemed about as high as her chances of having to deal with Darth Thanaton. Dead Dark Council members were supposed to stay that way, especially when Nox killed them. Her knowledge of Acina’s history, personality and motives was limited to half-remembered fragments of conversations overheard as a child. Acina was a pragmatist; that much was clear from their conversation. And no matter what she had said about not wanting to make an enemy of A’tro, Saryn did not believe for an instant that Acina would hesitate to kill her if she felt it was the best solution. Her and Xalkory both. Xalkory. Acina seemed to be disregarding his presence entirely. Saryn reached out with the Force again, checking for echoes of violence, and again found none. Hopefully, that meant he was still alive, and not that he’d been dispatched so quickly and so quietly that the ripple from his passing could not reach her. I think she thinks I know more than I do, Saryn thought nervously, watching Acina. We barely found anything on that wreck, surely nothing that could be useful. That might doom us. But if I refuse to answer, and she tries to take the information by force… Saryn considered herself reasonably prepared to resist standard Sith inquisitorial techniques, but she’d never had to put that training to the test. There was also no telling what sorts of artifacts Acina might have at her disposal. It was not an outcome she particularly wanted to explore. “Very well,” Saryn said, weighing her words carefully. “I agree to an exchange of information.” “Good.” Acina waved a hand. “Go on, then.” Saryn described the ship as she and Xalkory had found it: damaged, but with functional life support, a mysteriously missing hyperdrive, a lack of corpses, and strange hostile droids left aboard. With every word, Acina’s expression grew increasingly grave. “It seems my suspicions were correct. This does not bode well.” “I’ve told you what I know,” Saryn said. “Now it’s your turn. You know who attacked that ship, don’t you?” “Yes and no.” Acina cast a frowning glance out the nearby window. “Based on the pattern of known incidents, I believe their territory lies somewhere in Wild Space. They prey on pirates, spacers, anyone who gets too close. I’ve lost scouts to them. Their identity and motives, however, are a mystery to me.” “The droids that attacked us were Imperial models. Could it be a rogue Imperial faction?” Other than yours, Saryn managed to keep herself from saying at the last moment. “My people have found non-Imperial technology in the wake of their attacks as well. They seem to scavenge and repurpose whatever they can find from whoever they kill.” “That might explain why they took the hyperdrive. But what about the missing people?” “Slaves, prisoners, test subjects; use your imagination. And, of course,” Acina said grimly, “there are ways of…conscripting…even the most unwilling individuals.” Saryn tried and failed to suppress a shiver. “This mysterious group sounds like a serious threat.” “I’m inclined to agree. In years past, they’ve limited their attacks to those who encroached upon their territory. But your lost scout vessel was well outside that region.” “They’re getting more aggressive,” Saryn concluded. “This is the last thing the Empire needs right now.” “Yes, I’ve heard the peace is wearing thin.” Acina shook her head. “An inevitability.” “I seem to recall hearing that you were opposed to the ceasefire,” Saryn ventured. “I was opposed to Nox and Marr going behind the rest of our backs,” Acina said sourly. “If I’d understood things then the way I do now…but it doesn’t matter anymore.” She started towards Saryn. “Walk with me. I want to see this apprentice of Nox’s.” Saryn fell into step with her as they approached the stairwell, careful to remain within Acina’s field of vision. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand,” she said. “Are you saying that your objections were not with the ceasefire itself, but with the way it was handled by the Dark Council?” “As I said, the Dark Council had nothing to do with it. It was Nox and Marr—and Ravage, I suppose.” Acina’s lip curled. “Of course, he’d do whatever Nox told him. I used to respect him until he let her put him on a leash.” They reached the stairs. Saryn took the first few steps in silence, mulling over how to phrase her next question. Acina preempted her. “I will acknowledge that a cessation of hostilities had its benefits—in the short term. The longer Sith are held in check, however, the more difficult it becomes to keep them unified and focused. Darth Angral’s recent actions provide a fine example.” “You knew about Angral all the way out here?” Saryn frowned. “You must have spies within the Empire.” “Perhaps I do. What concern is it of yours?” “I’m still not convinced that this is not a staging ground for a rebellion,” Saryn said bluntly. “For all your talk of being loyal to the Empire, you don’t particularly seem to agree with the course it has taken.” “Really.” Acina sounded amused. “And what exactly have I said that gave you that impression?” Saryn hesitated, then gambled. “You hate Nox. You don’t have to say it outright for that much to be very clear.” Acina came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. She turned to face Saryn, her eyes gleaming in the shadowed space. “I think Nox has done great things for the Empire. She is a strong leader and she has brought much-needed change—not by force from outside, as Darth Malgus tried and failed to do years ago, but from within. Regardless of how I feel about her on a personal level, I cannot deny that she has done more good than harm for the most part.” “But the personal level matters,” Saryn persisted. “Nox killed you, or tried to. You wouldn’t be Sith if you didn’t hold a grudge against her for that.” “A grudge,” Acina repeated. She gave a short, harsh laugh. “Do you know what happens to Dark Council members who are killed on the chamber floor?” Saryn shook her head. “I woke up outside,” Acina said softly. “In a pit filled with the weathered remains of those who’d gone before me. I am not a squeamish woman, Saryn. I’ve seen and done things beyond even most Sith’s worst nightmares. But to find myself on that heap of bones, face to face with the rusting mask of Darth Baras…” Her jaw clenched. “It was—unpleasant. But I learned from that experience, grew stronger from it, and I do not hate Nox for it.” “Then why do I sense hatred from you?” Saryn asked boldly. She could feel it boiling off her like heat shimmering in the air. Acina took a violent step toward her, one hand falling upon her lightsaber. Saryn flinched backward, drawing on the Force, but the older Sith did not draw her weapon. “I hate her because she did it for no reason,” Acina hissed. “I had everything under control. Xyre had retrieved the Seeds of Rage. The Council was content with my handling of the situation. But Nox decided that I had to die anyway. Because she wanted me to. Because she could. Marr and your mother tried to stop her, but she—she was so much more powerful than I thought—” Her voice faltered into quiet resignation as she stepped back from Saryn. “Of course, you won’t believe me. Nox must think quite highly of you; why else would her apprentice have accompanied you all the way out here? I’m sure you’ve been shielded from the consequences of her mercurial nature. I doubt you’ve ever seen her make a mistake.” Saryn hesitated, weighing information in her head. She had always believed Nox’s notorious capriciousness to be an act designed to keep her enemies off guard. Nox always had a plan, was always three steps ahead. She never did anything without a reason—especially something as final as murder—even if those reasons didn’t make sense to those around her. She wished desperately that she could contact her mother. A’tro had been there for Acina’s fall from grace, and she knew Nox well, better than Saryn did. But Saryn doubted Acina was feeling inclined to let her make a call back to the Empire, and even if she did, there was no guarantee that A’tro would be able to speak with her. She would just have to figure it out on her own. “Shocked you into silence, have I?” In the Force, Acina’s anger receded. “Come along, now. I believe I’ve made up my mind on what’s to be done with you.” She set off out of the building. Saryn followed her across the courtyard, thoughts buzzing in her brain. Before she could come to any further conclusions, however, her deliberations departed her awareness at the sight of the scene unfolding near the landing pad. Xalkory stood facing off with the Sith who had been left to guard him, his lightsaber drawn. The masked Sith had his own weapon in his hand. Saryn could see her lightsaber hanging from his belt. A dozen soldiers had gathered in a semi-circle around them, seemingly uncertain of how to proceed. As Saryn and Acina approached, the masked Sith took a swing. Xalkory parried the blow with ease, a mocking smile spreading across his face. “Please,” he said, “don’t hold back on my account.” The masked Sith growled. “I’ll show you—” “What is the meaning of this?” Acina demanded, striding forward. “M—my lord,” the masked Sith stuttered. “The—the situation is well in hand.” “Really,” Acina said acidly. “Why is the prisoner armed?” “He—ah—he snuck up on me, my lord,” the masked Sith mumbled. “I’m dealing with him.” “Saryn!” Xalkory said. All traces of mockery left his smile as he looked at her. “You’re all right.” “Did you ever doubt me?” Saryn inquired. Relief left her feeling unexpectedly warm. Her vision hadn’t come to pass. “Not for an instant.” His expression sobered as he regarded her companion. “And Darth Acina, I presume. Having seen my share of dead Sith, I must say you look lovely by comparison.” Acina gave him a withering look. “You recognize me.” “Of course. I memorize the faces of all my master’s enemies, living and otherwise. Just in case.” “How thoughtful of you. What is your name?” “Xalkory Arenthe, my lord.” He gave a courtly bow. “My apologies for not standing around waiting patiently for my fate to be decided. I was starting to get the distinct sense that someone here wanted me dead, and this miserable excuse for a Sith left such a wonderful opening, he was practically asking me to take my lightsaber back.” “You didn’t get mine, though,” Saryn stage-whispered. “You’ve been saying all this time that you don’t need it. Don’t change your tune now.” Acina looked back and forth between the two of them, her brows slowly drawing together. “Tell me, Xalkory, what brings you out here to this forgotten corner of the galaxy?” He glanced at Saryn. “I go where she goes.” “Is that so,” Acina said in a tone of great interest. “I thought Darth Nox was your master.” “She is. I do as I’m told.” Xalkory smiled pleasantly. “I’m a good apprentice like that.” “I’ve seen the report from the shuttle crew. You seem very protective of this young woman.” Xalkory’s smile faded. “Like I said, I do as I’m told.” “Where are you going with this?” Saryn cut in. “What do you want?” “I desire only to continue as I have been,” Acina stated. “I am no enemy of the Empire. My people and I prefer to be left alone.” “To form your own miniature Empire out here in the Unknown Regions?” Xalkory scoffed. “Because that’s what this looks like to me. Soldiers, ships, Sith at your beck and call…” “As I told your friend, this is not a rebellion.” Xalkory raised a brow-ridge. “I doubt the Dark Council would see it that way.” “You might be surprised,” Acina said coolly. “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but Darth Angral is out there right now doing essentially the same thing that you are.” Xalkory nodded at Saryn. “Her mother thrashed him on the Council chamber floor and told him to go break himself on the Republic. I’m sure she’d be happy to do the same with you.” “Unlike Darth Angral,” Acina said, “I am not violating the Council’s directives by breaking the ceasefire. As for the Wrath…that will depend on her daughter.” Saryn frowned as Acina turned to look at her. “What about me?” “I have a proposition for you. Unless, of course, you’d like to take your chances and fight your way out of here.” “We might get farther than you think,” Saryn said, glancing briefly at Xalkory. “But I’m willing to hear what you have to say.” “As I told you already, I have no desire to make an enemy of Darth A’tro,” Acina said. “The longer I have you in my custody, however, the more the chances of that outcome increase. Therefore, I am willing to allow you to leave this place—provided that you give me your word that you will not tell anyone of my presence here.” “You’re putting a great deal of trust in me not to betray you,” Saryn pointed out. “I know the Wrath—and I know her husband. They both possess a rare and admirable degree of integrity. I doubt they would have raised their daughter to be any different.” “I might be willing to agree,” Saryn said slowly. “But…what about Xalkory?” “He stays here.” Acina’s eyes narrowed. “Let Nox be the one to lose something for a change.” Saryn shook her head. “That’s not acceptable.” “Saryn, don’t be foolish,” Xalkory said tersely. “Take the deal and go. Don’t worry about me.” “No,” Saryn protested. “She’s going to kill you, don’t you understand?” “Of course I understand.” He brandished his lightsaber. “And I intend to make her work for it.” “I would expect nothing less,” Acina murmured. “No!” Saryn said again, louder. In her peripheral vision, she could see more soldiers and more Sith approaching. The situation was spiraling out of control. She had to act. “I won’t leave you here to be tortured and killed because of a vendetta that doesn’t even involve you.” “You pick a very bad time to stop seeing the big picture.” Xalkory shook his head. “I’m expendable; you’re not. Get out of here before Acina changes her mind.” Acina eyed her. “You should listen to him.” “He can’t tell me what to do,” Saryn snapped. “And neither can you. Your arrangement is unacceptable to me, Darth Acina. I wish to propose a new one.” The soldiers and Sith formed a ring around them. Acina held up a hand as they drew weapons. “You are remarkably tenacious. I’ll hear you out.” “Thank you.” Saryn took a deep breath. “If you allow both Xalkory and myself to leave this place, we will keep your presence here a secret. No one—not Nox, not my parents, not the Dark Council—will hear of it. You have my word.” “Your word, I am willing to believe,” Acina said. “Him, on the other hand…” “Every apprentice keeps secrets from their master,” Saryn said. “It is the Sith way.” “And his master has a reputation for finding secrets.” Acina shook her head. “Not good enough. I will offer you one final chance: depart. Save yourself. Leave Nox’s apprentice to his fate.” “You said you believed my parents had raised me with integrity, and you were right. I will not abandon my ally. My fate will be the same as his.” Saryn’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “My death will echo through the Force to pierce my mother’s heart, a declaration of war against the Sith Empire. A war you cannot possibly hope to win. I’m offering you a chance to avoid that. Let us go.” Acina looked at her assembled troops, at Xalkory still standing with his lightsaber at the ready, then back at Saryn. “Perhaps I’m not concerned with winning.” “No, I don’t think you are,” Saryn said. “I think you want to avoid that war at all costs.” “You sound very convinced of that.” “You’ve spent ten years building all of this. You won’t risk throwing it away to spite Nox; killing Xalkory wouldn’t hurt her enough to be worth that.” “How else am I to ensure the safety of my people if not by silencing you?” Acina asked. “They have been loyal to me for a long time. I would not see that loyalty rewarded by them being hunted down as traitors.” “You said you would accept my word that I will tell no one. Can I not extend that guarantee to Xalkory as well? If I ask him to remain silent, I promise you, he will obey.” Acina turned to Xalkory. “Is that so? Does Saryn instill such loyalty in you that you would lie to Darth Nox at her command?” Xalkory looked back at her with a face that could have been carved from Korriban’s red stone. “She does. Besides,” he added, the stone cracking into a slight smile, “it’s not lying if Nox doesn’t know to ask.” “I can give you more,” Saryn spoke up quickly. “Darth Acina, if you ever decide to return to the Empire, I promise that I will personally intercede with the Dark Council on your behalf. I believe that you are not a traitor, and I will do everything in my power to ensure that others believe the same.” “Interesting,” said Acina. “This is my final offer. I urge you to choose wisely.” The Force shifted in Saryn’s head, her powers of foresight trying to take over. She pushed them back. They were at a pivot point; she could feel it. The river of time was splitting, branching into multiple paths. She had no way of knowing which one her reality would follow. She tried to move a little closer to Xalkory without being obvious about it. If violence was about to break out, staying close together would give them a better chance. She still felt drained from her efforts to keep them alive on the wrecked ship, but she did her best to gather what strength she had. There were a great many enemies surrounding them, most of them Forceblind. Pure telekinesis ought to serve her well: she could rip up the courtyard’s ancient paving stones and— Acina made up her mind. Saryn felt the tension in the Force resolve. The path had been chosen. “It seems I have misjudged you,” Acina remarked with a small, satisfied smile. “I had thought you to be very like your mother, but it was a mistake to view you in such narrow terms. You are your own Sith, and a strong one at that. The Empire will be in good hands when you achieve your full potential.” “Are you accepting my proposal?” Saryn asked cautiously. Acina inclined her head. “Despite my better judgment, I will allow you both to leave. I will hold you to your word. Should I decide to abandon my exile and rejoin the Empire, I will expect your support.” “It will be yours. Rest assured I will not forget your graciousness, my lord.” Saryn bowed—a brazen appeal to Acina’s pride, but after what she’d just done, it seemed appropriate. “I’ve seen blood-crazed terentateks less persistent than you,” Acina said dryly. “I think I prefer to have you as an ally.” “You have my respect as well, my lord. What little I’d heard about you failed to do you justice. And—” Saryn hesitated. “I won’t forget what you said. About Nox.” Acina’s smile twisted. “Good.” She turned to her forces. “Back to your posts, all of you. The crisis is over. And you—” She gestured towards the masked Sith. “Give her back her lightsaber.” The Sith strode over to Saryn and handed her her lightsaber with visible reluctance, then walked away. “You can stand down, now,” Saryn said to Xalkory. “She’s not going to betray us. I think.” Xalkory slowly put away his weapon. “All right. Now what?” “I will provide you with a ship and you will leave,” Acina said. She raised an eyebrow. “Consider it an apology for the…misunderstanding. Give me but a moment.” She walked over to one of the departing soldiers. Xalkory moved towards Saryn, a frown settling over his face. “What in the name of Marka Ragnos was that?” She blinked up at him. “I beg your pardon?” “She gave you multiple chances to walk away, but you didn’t. You put your life on the line because of me. What were you thinking?” “I’m sorry,” Saryn said stiffly. “I thought you’d rather not die. I can tell Acina you changed your mind, if you’d like.” “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I don’t want to die.” His frown deepened. “I just don’t want you to, either.” “Well, we’re both alive, so I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” “You took an incredible risk.” “No, I took an acceptable risk. And it paid off.” Xalkory shook his head. “What would you have done if Acina hadn’t agreed?” “We would have fought our way out, obviously.” Saryn eyed Acina’s distant figure. “I think I could have taken her if I had to.” Xalkory laughed. “Now I almost wish she hadn’t gone along with it. I would have liked to have seen you show her what you’re made of.” “Just between the two of us,” Saryn murmured, “I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get the chance to try.” “Saryn…” Xalkory shook his head again. His mouth curved into a small smile as he looked at her, one that didn’t at all resemble the smug grins he usually favored. Those expressions were probably mostly affectation, an imitation of his master’s famous enigmatic smile. This was different. Genuine. “Thank you.” “You—you’re welcome,” she floundered, suddenly unsure of what to say. The confidence she’d felt when facing down Acina was gone. Why had she gone to such lengths to save him? He was right, it had been an incredible risk. And yet she felt with great certainty that it had been the right course of action to take. Acina returned. “I have a ship for you,” she announced. “Take it and depart this place immediately.” She inclined her head. “Farewell, Saryn Zaraine. While I hope you maintain your agreement not to reveal my presence here, I encourage you to share the information I gave you about the mysterious force that destroyed that scout ship. If they become a threat, the Empire should be prepared to face it.” “I will.” “Wait, what mysterious force?” Xalkory asked. “I’ll fill you in on the way home,” Saryn said. She gave a polite bow. “I thank you once more for your mercy, Darth Acina.” Acina pursed her lips. “Do not make me regret this.” She motioned to a uniformed officer hovering in the background. “Lieutenant Marris, direct them to the shuttle. May the Force grant you strength.” Lieutenant Marris, as it turned out, was the officer who had presided over their initial capture. The walk to the shuttle was filled with awkward silence. Saryn was relieved when the hatch closed behind them. “All right,” Xalkory said. “Let’s get this thing fired up and head back. Your father is probably starting to wonder where we’ve gone.” “I’ll call him once we’re closer to Imperial space.” Saryn allowed herself a small sigh of relief. “Let’s go home.”
  5. Sixty-Three Esus Mesa, Tatooine 35 ATC “I have to hand it to this Praven guy,” Kira said. “I think he found the one shady spot on Tatooine.” Rhys surveyed the mesa, which was sheltered from the suns by a rocky overhang. A few tenacious plants had managed to take root in cracks in the stone. The ground extended out from the cliff face beneath its stony canopy for a few meters, then dropped off sharply. “Speaking of which,” Rhys said, pointing towards the far end of the plateau. Lord Praven stood at the very edge, his back to the two Jedi, looking out over the mountainous expanse beyond. If he had sensed their presence, he gave no indication of it. A tingle of suspicion ran through Rhys. The Sith must have had reasons for picking this particular spot for a confrontation. “He actually showed.” Kira sounded surprised. “Interesting.” “I thought he sounded sincere.” “Sincere in his intention to kill us? Absolutely. I just can’t quite buy this whole ‘honorable Sith’ deal. It has to be a trick.” Rhys looked over at her. “What if it’s not?” Kira frowned back. She’d been quieter since her origins had come to light. Whether she was worried about Rhys’ opinion of her or just worried about Master Kiwiiks, he couldn’t tell. “Even if it’s not,” she said, “he still has the Shock Drum codes and we need to get them. So what difference does it make?” “I don’t know.” Rhys looked back at the implacable figure awaiting them. “He just seemed so reasonable when he called me. Maybe I can negotiate something.” “He invited you to a duel to the death. I wouldn’t call that reasonable.” “It’s more than any of Angral’s other minions have done.” Kira shook her head. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Come on. This planet doesn’t have a lot of time.” Rhys nodded and moved farther out onto the mesa. Praven turned and leaped gracefully down from the rock atop which he’d been standing, then approached the Jedi. “You’re here,” he said. “Good.” “Are you surprised?” Rhys asked. “No. You seem a man inclined to keep his word.” Kira put a hand on her lightsaber. “Is this the part where you spring your trap?” Praven frowned at her. “Do not insult me. I said I would destroy you personally, and I intend to do just that.” Rhys had to admit to himself that the Sith was considerably more intimidating in person—he was several inches taller than Rhys’ six feet, with a build like the wraids that prowled the dunes. One didn’t need physical power like that to swing a lightsaber, but it helped. “I can sense your power,” Praven continued. “Now I understand why Tarnis was no match for you. His death was my failure. I should have trained him better.” “I didn’t want to kill him,” Rhys said quietly. “But he forced my hand.” Just like Bengel Morr. Just like Galen… “That is what Jedi always say. I wonder if you truly believe it, or if it is simply a convenient lie to assuage your conscience. But enough talk.” Praven glanced at Kira. “My challenge was for you and you alone. Tell your Padawan to stand aside. She need not die this day.” “You expect me to just stand here and watch?” Kira protested. “Those were the terms,” Rhys pointed out. “I intend to abide by them.” Kira sighed. “If you insist.” “Don’t worry,” Rhys said. “I’ll be fine.” “Who said I was worried?” Kira smiled for a moment, then ducked her head and backed away to stand by the canyon wall. Rhys steeled himself and drew his lightsabers. “Praven, you don’t have to do this.” “But I do.” Praven drew a single red blade. “Die well, Jedi.” He attacked. Rhys fell back, staying on the defensive. They moved in a circle, blades flashing out to test one another, then falling quiescent. The tension in the air rose with every movement. Deep down, Rhys had to admit that he was enjoying himself; a lightsaber duel was a dance, and it was rare to find a partner who could keep up with him. “I remember your battle with Tarnis,” Praven commented. “You’ve improved.” “Thank you.” “Juyo with two sabers. An unusually aggressive choice for a Jedi.” Praven lunged unexpectedly towards Rhys’ left side. With the aid of the Force, Rhys moved out of the way at the last moment, but the blade still came close enough for him to feel its heat. “We live in dangerous times.” “And so you become more dangerous to compensate? That’s a very Sith way of thinking.” Praven took advantage of the opening he’d created and maneuvered them around so Rhys’ back was to the cliff’s edge. “I’m not like you,” Rhys retorted. “I fight so others don’t have to.” “So do I.” Praven intensified his attack, clearly trying to push him towards the edge. Rhys mustered his strength and did his best to hold his ground. “If that’s the case, why do you serve Angral?” “I have my reasons. You wouldn’t understand.” “What’s to understand? Lord Praven, you are an honorable man, but Angral is not.” Rhys seized the flow of their combat and went on the offensive, forcing Praven to halt his advance. “Don’t tell me you agree with everything he’s trying to do.” “He is my master,” Praven said through gritted teeth. “So you follow him blindly?” Praven hesitated. “No. No, I…” Rhys intensified his attacks. “Angral would see countless innocents die in revenge for the death of his son. Do you condone that?” Praven took a step backward. “My master—he deserves justice.” “These weapons he’s stolen, the indiscriminate destruction they can unleash—is that justice?” Rhys locked Praven’s lightsaber between his green and gold blades. “His vendetta against me is one thing, but the rest? It’s senseless. It’s wrong. You know that.” Praven met Rhys’ eyes. “I do.” He pushed against their locked blades, bringing his superior height and strength into play. The Force flowed through Rhys, reinforcing his guard, but it was not quite enough. His arms were forced to slowly bend, the trio of blades edging closer and closer to his face. Rhys called upon the Force for speed and stepped quickly backward, disengaging their sabers. Praven lunged forward. Rhys moved to parry, but it was too late. Praven’s lightsaber flashed inside his guard and stabbed into his torso. The armor Rhys wore beneath his robes was all that saved him. It took Praven’s blade a moment to burn through the reinforced alloy and into the flesh beneath. With the aid of the Force, it was just enough time for Rhys to throw himself backward. Unbalanced, he fell to one knee in the sand. He’d saved himself from complete impalement, but a deep wound had still been inflicted. Pain struck in a wave, engulfing his left side in fire. Praven started forward. With a Force-enhanced leap, Kira interposed herself between him and Rhys. The twin blades of her lightsaber blazed to life. “Don’t even think about it,” she said grimly. “Step aside, girl,” Praven commanded. “The terms of this duel—” “To hell with your terms,” Kira snapped. “I’m not letting you lay a hand on him.” “I was willing to spare you, but if you insist on antagonizing me…” Praven shook his head. “You will die alongside your master, then.” “Rhysven isn’t my master,” Kira said. “Bela Kiwiiks is.” She tightened her grip on her lightsaber. “And, while we’re on the subject—what did you do to her?” “Angral ordered that she suffer greatly before her death,” Praven said without emotion. “I left her beside the Shock Drum. The ultrasonic vibrations will eventually tear her apart.” “You scum,” Kira snarled. “You act so high and mighty, but you aren’t any better than other Sith.” “You know nothing of the Sith.” “Heard that before,” Kira murmured, and leaped for him. The sound of clashing lightsabers broke through the haze in Rhys’ mind. He drew in a short, harsh breath through clenched teeth and let the pain burn through him. He’d made a mistake. This was the price. He acknowledged that truth, accepted it, and made it a part of him. Armed with this new truth, he made peace with his damaged body. The Force flowed through him in a clear, bright tide, washing away the pain—for the time being. In the moment, however, it didn’t matter, and so he put it aside. The light limned his every nerve and vein and muscle. It could not sustain him forever, but he didn’t need it to. He only needed enough time to defeat Praven. He stood, adjusted his grip on his lightsabers, and joined the fight. The moment Rhys appeared, Praven disengaged from Kira and took several steps away. “Your fortitude is impressive. Padawan, will you step away and let us continue this properly?” “I’m really starting to get sick of your attitude,” Kira said. “It’s all right,” Rhys interjected. “I can take him.” “That was what you said right before he stabbed you.” “I’m aware of that.” Rhys locked eyes with Praven. “It won’t happen again.” Kira sighed and moved a short distance away. “You are so frustrating sometimes.” She did not deactivate her lightsaber. “Let us end this,” said Praven. Rhys only nodded. The battle resumed. This time, it was Rhys who immediately went on the offensive. He did not concern himself with tactics; he let the Force guide him. All things were a part of the Force, including Praven, and it knew his every move before he made it. The light in Rhys’ mind guided him through an intricate choreography, and he surrendered himself to its steps. Praven used the Makashi lightsaber form—the duelist’s form. It was suited for speed and precise attacks, as the stab wound in Rhys’ side could attest, but its one-handed defense had difficulty holding up against an assault of superior physical power. Praven had clearly done his best to compensate for this by honing his body to peak strength, but such measures could only go so far. Forced onto the defensive, he was at a disadvantage. As Praven had noted at the beginning of their combat, Juyo was an aggressive style, one that paired well with the volume of destruction that two lightsabers could bring. Rhys used it to his advantage. With the aid of the Force, he moved far faster than a normal human ever could. Like a storm, he battered away at Praven’s defenses, giving him no room to breathe, to maneuver, to readjust the flow of the combat. Eventually, something would give. Praven’s defense faltered. Rhys seized the opening without hesitation. His gold blade sliced through the hilt of Praven’s lightsaber and into the hand that held it. The Sith blade sputtered out and fell to the ground in two pieces. Praven looked from his fallen lightsaber to Rhys’ blade as it came up to point at his chest. He gave no sign of the pain that had to be emanating from his injured hand. He inclined his head. “I concede defeat.” “You fought well,” Rhys said. His voice emerged more shakily than he would have preferred. Now that the battle was over, he could feel the Force beginning to ebb away. Praven withdrew a datachip from a small compartment on his belt and held it out. “Here. The codes to the Shock Drum, as promised. Angral ordered me to destroy them, that you might die in failure no matter the outcome here, but I will not tarnish my honor with petty tricks.” Kira walked over and snatched the chip out of his hand. “And yet you were willing to leave Master Kiwiiks to a slow and painful death.” “I wish I had ignored that order as well.” Praven sighed. “I wish I had done a great many things differently…but it does not matter now. You’ve won the day. Finish me.” Rhys’ lightsaber quivered in his hand. “I…” Praven’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you hesitate?” Other faces overlaid Praven’s in Rhys’ mind. Callef. Bengel. Tarnis. Galen. So many lives he’d been forced to take. So many moments he wished he could have done differently. “I have a chance to do the right thing,” he said. “And killing you would be the wrong choice.” “This weakness will not serve you when you face Angral.” “I’ll worry about that when the time comes.” Rhys took a deep breath. “I don’t want to kill you, Lord Praven. But I also don’t want you to come back and try to stop me again. I’m willing to make a bargain.” “Name your terms,” Praven said warily. “I want you to leave,” Rhys said. “Return to the Empire. The Dark Council claims that Angral has gone rogue and they have no intention of violating the ceasefire; prove them right. Leave Republic space and don’t ever let me see you again.” Praven stood still for a long time. “I was proud to serve Angral, once,” he said. “He was a great Sith, his actions legendary among my people. But he has become a shadow of what he once was, and the greater good of the Empire is no longer something that concerns him. The pretense of loyalty has grown wearying, of late. It will be a relief not to have to maintain it any longer.” “You’re accepting my offer, then?” Rhys asked. “I am.” Rhys lowered his lightsaber and deactivated it. “I’m glad this doesn’t have to end in violence.” Praven bowed. “You are not what I expected, Knight D’Anshir. I see now why my master believes you will win this conflict.” Rhys frowned. “Since when does Angral think I’m going to win?” “I do not speak of Angral.” Praven started to walk away. “Wait,” Rhys called out. “Who are you talking about?” “Cause enough trouble for the Empire, and you will find out.” Praven shook his head. “You should hope for your sake that never comes to pass.” He left. The last remnants of Rhys’ Force-granted strength faded. Pain flared back to life from his wounded side. He gasped, knees buckling, dropping his lightsabers as he instinctively put out a hand to catch himself. Kira caught him halfway to the ground. “I’ve got you.” “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” She carefully eased him down into a sitting position. “Take it easy for a minute. I’ve got a medpac.” “I meant thank you for earlier,” Rhys said. “Taking Praven on by yourself like that—it was brave.” Kira looked up from the medpac, one corner of her mouth curving upward. “You thought I was toast, didn’t you?” Rhys had seen that wry grin before, but it looked different up close. He’d never noticed the way the expression pulled ever so gently at the scar on her cheek. Her eyes were the same color as the sky just above the dunes on the horizon. Suddenly, he felt very aware of just how hot Tatooine was, even in the shade. “I, ah, no,” he said, trying to find his way back out of those twin skies. “I knew you’d be fine.” Kira chuckled softly and lowered her gaze back to the medpac. “Sure. But if you’d let me beat Praven for you, it would’ve made you look bad, right?” “I do have a reputation to maintain,” Rhys said faintly. Whatever hypnosis he’d been under was broken, now. The heat and the pain must have gotten to him. “Of course. I’m sure Praven will go running back to the Empire and tell all the other Sith Lords how scary you are and leave me completely out of the story.” Kira applied kolto to the surface of Rhys’ injury. “That should do it until we finish here, if we’re fast. You should probably see an actual medic soon, though.” “I’ll add it to the schedule.” Rhys steeled himself and started to get up. Kira steadied him as he wobbled his way to his feet. “Hey, careful. Maybe you should take a minute to let the kolto kick in." “Tatooine doesn’t have a minute. Neither does Master Kiwiiks.” Kira’s expression darkened. “Good point. Let’s go.” Rhys began making his way back across the mesa as quickly as he dared. He couldn’t maintain the level of immersion in the Force that he had used in the battle with Praven, but he could and did draw on it just enough to keep himself going. Kira kept pace closer beside him than usual, probably to keep an eye on him. I really do have a reputation to maintain, he thought. And not just to the Sith—to Kira, to the Republic, and to myself. I was careless. I can’t let it happen again. “By the way,” Kira said abruptly. “What you did there, letting Praven go—” “It seems like everywhere I go I leave a trail of corpses.” The words emerged more harshly than he’d intended. “Maybe letting him walk away was a mistake. I don’t know. I just couldn’t…” “I wasn’t going to criticize you,” Kira murmured. “Oh.” Rhys’ face flushed. “Sorry.” “When he told me what he did to Master Kiwiiks, it—I got angry.” Kira looked off into the distance. “I hoped you’d kill him. I thought he deserved it. But I was letting my emotions control me, and I shouldn’t have.” She sighed. “I’m glad you made the choice you did. Who knows, maybe Praven will even learn something from it.” “You don’t sound very optimistic about that.” “He’s a Sith who isn’t just out for himself. In a way, I think that makes him even more dangerous than Angral.” “Maybe I should have killed him,” Rhys said quietly. Kira’s expression darkened. “No. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. Praven wouldn’t have shown you mercy, but you spared him. That makes you better than him. That makes you a Jedi.” Her face and tone softened. “A better Jedi than me, that’s for sure. Guess that’s why I’m still a Padawan.” “I think you do just fine as a Jedi.” Rhys tried to sound reassuring. “Ah, you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” “I mean it,” Rhys protested. “I could never have made it this far on my own.” “You’re not on your own. You have T7. Remember how he shot that Sith in the back on Ord Mantell?” “T7 is formidable, but he’s not a Jedi.” “Have you tried strapping a lightsaber to him?” “I’m being serious,” Rhys muttered. “Sorry. I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it.” Kira looked away from him. “Especially after finding out that…well…I am who and what I am.” “You’re Kira Carsen and you’re a Jedi,” Rhys said firmly. “That’s all that matters.” She looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. “You really took it better than I thought you would.” “I admit, it took me by surprise, but I’ve had time to think it over. You’ve never given me any reason to doubt you. Besides,” he added, “you’re hardly the first Sith to switch sides.” “The whole ‘joining the Jedi’ thing was really more of an accident, but I see your point.” Kira sighed. “And that just brings my mind back to Master Kiwiiks.” “Have you sensed anything new from her?” “No. She—she’s fading.” “We’d better pick up the pace, then.” “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kira frowned. “You won’t do anyone any good if you exhaust yourself just getting there.” “I’ll be fine,” Rhys said, to himself as much as Kira. Kira looked skeptical, but she did not object. Rhys made himself move faster, drawing more deeply on the Force. He had managed to keep Praven from joining the ranks of the dead. He would save Master Kiwiiks, too. Pushing himself to his limits was a small price to pay. Maybe if he’d pushed himself harder, sooner, he might have saved more. He couldn’t think about that. He forced his mind into the moment and kept walking.
  6. Sixty-Two Deep Space 35 ATC Saryn adjusted her position in the pilot’s chair of the small shuttle her father had loaned her for the mission. The countdown until the vessel emerged from hyperspace grew smaller and smaller on the navigation console. She laced her fingers together and stretched her arms out in front of her, then rested her hands on the controls. There was no telling what situation might be awaiting them at their destination, and she intended to be prepared to maneuver through debris, enemy fire, or whatever else they might encounter. Xalkory lounged beside her in the copilot’s seat. He had spent most of the trip napping at her insistence—given how he had been truncating his sleep schedule to guard her back on Dromund Kaas, she’d thought it best to make sure he was well-rested before they were out in the field. He was awake now, however, gazing out the viewport with alert red eyes. “What are the odds,” he mused, “that they just had a malfunction in their comm system and everything’s actually fine?” “About eighteen percent.” He turned to regard her with a skeptical expression. “You just made that up.” “I did not,” Saryn replied indignantly. “I ran the numbers for every conceivable scenario while you were asleep.” “Military strategists always talk about ‘running the numbers.’ Where do you get those numbers, anyway?” “Oh, the method is really quite elegant,” Saryn said with enthusiasm. “You start with an equation that…” She was three quarters of the way through her explanation when it occurred to her that an in-depth lecture on strategic probability formulae might not have been what he’d had in mind. “…and then you solve for xesh and then…you’re not even paying attention to what I’m saying, are you?” “I was listening,” Xalkory said defensively. He gave her a quizzical look. “Do you do that all the time? Break everything down into numbers and calculate the outcome?” “For the most part. Except in certain matters of the Force, in which case it’s better to rely on intuition.” “Slippery thing, the Force.” “Quite.” Saryn turned her attention to the console. “Still, I think that higher level mathematics are something of a neglected area in Sith education. The way holocrons function, for instance, is much easier to understand with a working knowledge of…and we’re coming out of hyperspace in thirty seconds.” Xalkory sat up straighter. “Ah. Wonderful. So, while there’s still time, what was your prevailing theory on what we’re about to fly into?” “Well, given the remoteness of this region and the increased instability of the galaxy as a whole right now, it seems the most likely outcome is that the Imperial ship was attacked.” “If that were the case, though, wouldn’t they have sent a distress signal?” “Yes, but we might be too far out for Command to have received it. And it’s possible that—” The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace. Directly in front of them, the unmistakable wedge shape of an Imperial warship hung against the star-dusted void. Its gray plating had been blasted apart in several places, arcs of debris drifting lazily out into the vacuum. “It’s possible,” Saryn concluded, “that the attack happened so swiftly, and inflicted so much damage, that they never had a chance to send a message.” “I’m not exactly an expert in starship combat, but that looks bad.” Xalkory looked over at Saryn. “Shall we call the Grand Moff and tell him that his ship didn’t make it?” “No. Not yet.” Saryn took the controls and eased the shuttle forward towards the wreckage. “I want to find out what exactly happened here. Run a scan, would you?” Xalkory obliged. “Looks like a few areas are still running on emergency power,” he reported a few moments later. “I’m not picking up anything on the comm.” “Life signs?” “None.” “Unfortunate. Can you tell if they launched any escape pods?” “Doesn’t look like it. Whoever did this worked very quickly.” “All right.” Saryn steered the shuttle towards the bow of the wreck. “A few sections still have power, you say?” “Yes, but I can’t say how long it will—you want to go walk around in there, don’t you?” “If any of their computer systems are intact, they could tell us what happened.” Saryn glanced over at him. “It might be dangerous, but it’s the logical thing to do.” “Fair enough, but if you get yourself killed…” “I promise I’ll come back as a ghost and absolve you of responsibility.” Xalkory frowned. “Don’t joke about that.” “Find me a place to dock that still has life support and you won’t have to worry about it.” “Fine, fine. Let’s see…there. This hangar looks mostly intact.” “Excellent.” Saryn swung the shuttle around. “You know, I’ve read some interesting theories about staving off the vacuum of space with a Force barrier.” “Hm. I suppose you could make yourself a little pocket of atmosphere. Of course, once it runs out…” “Then you have a problem.” Saryn peered out the viewport at the hangar Xalkory had indicated. The doors were partway open, but there did appear to be an operational forcefield between them. “Careful,” Xalkory commented as she eased the shuttle towards the gap. “Your father might not be happy if we bring this back dented.” “I can do it,” Saryn said testily. The shuttle narrowly passed through the doors and into the hangar. Saryn delicately brought it down, doing her best to avoid the debris scattered across the deck. She looked at Xalkory. “See?” “I never doubted you.” “You told me to be careful.” “That doesn’t mean I didn’t think you could do it.” “Then why say it?” “Friendly concern? Gentle teasing?” He looked away. “I apologize if I’ve overstepped my boundaries. After the amount of time we’ve been spending together, I thought a little informality was warranted.” “Oh.” Saryn busied herself with powering down the shuttle in a vain attempt to not notice the heat flaring in her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “It’s not—you were fine. I’m just—not used to this sort of thing. Socially, I mean.” Her face grew hotter. “Most people are too afraid of my mother to tease me.” “I fear my apprenticeship to Darth Nox has numbed me on most Sith Lords’ intimidation factor. Perhaps it’s something I ought to relearn.” “No, don’t,” Saryn said quickly. She got up from her chair and walked to the doorway of the cockpit. “I appreciate that you talk to me like I’m a real person, not just some miniature copy of my mother that summons her ire if you look at it too long.” She sighed and shook her head. “Let’s just go explore this ship, shall we?” “Very well. And…I’m sorry if what I said—” “Forget it,” Saryn said awkwardly, trying to get the fire in her face under control. “It’s fine. Let’s just move on.” [iBefore I say anything else that makes me sound foolish…[/i] She made her way out of the cockpit before he could reply, then opened the shuttle’s hatch and gingerly stepped out into the hangar. The emergency lights along the deck provided only minimal illumination, leaving the upper reaches of the space engulfed in shadows. With no engines online to rumble in the background, it was utterly quiet. The Force was taut wires in her mind, tense nearly to the point of breaking, reverberating with increasingly faint echoes of fear and pain. In spite of herself, she shivered. “It’s cold,” Xalkory commented. Saryn flinched in surprise; she hadn’t noticed him coming up beside her. “Yes,” she said. “Life support must be failing. We should move quickly.” “Agreed. I assume you have a plan?” Saryn nodded. “There should be a security station nearby. I’ll see if I can access the ship’s network from its computer.” The security station overlooked the hangar. They made their way through the ramped corridor leading up to it without incident and found the door to the station blasted open. Metallic debris filled the doorway. Saryn picked her way over the debris and into the room itself. The transparisteel window looking down into the hangar was cracked and pocked from blasterfire. A body in an Imperial uniform was crumpled over the computer console. “Security officer for this area,” Xalkory commented from behind her. “Looks like he didn’t go down without a fight.” “Yes,” Saryn said, looking down at the still form. “He did his duty to the last.” She took a deep breath, then took hold of the corpse and moved it with some effort down to the floor. To the computer, the logical part of her mind urged, but she hesitated, kneeling beside the dead officer. He was human, middle-aged, fresh wounds on his face half-obscuring an old battle scar. Were the lines around his mouth from frowns or smiles? Saryn bit her lip. He was somebody’s father, she thought, and closed his eyes with a gentle hand. “Saryn,” Xalkory said. She turned around to find him examining the metal debris in the doorway. “What is it?” “It’s blasted pretty bad, but I think this scrap was a battle droid at some point.” Saryn glanced back at the corpse. “Attacking or defending?” “Not sure. I’ll take a closer look.” Xalkory picked up a piece of charred metal and frowned at it. “Weren’t you going to check the computer?” “Oh. Yes.” Saryn turned to the console and delicately manipulated the blood-splattered controls. “Um…let’s see…I’ve got access to the ship’s network. I’ll try to run a basic diagnostic, get a sense of what we’re dealing with here.” She looked over her shoulder. “Find out anything about that droid?” Xalkory set down the piece he’d been holding and shook his head. “It’s too badly damaged to identify the model.” “Ah. That’s unfortunate. Maybe if we look around some more, we might find more information.” Saryn turned back to the console. “Hmm. No wonder you didn’t pick up anything from the comm; it looks like the external array was destroyed in the battle.” “Makes sense. Keep the enemy from calling reinforcements.” “Yes, that’s standard…what—” Saryn frowned at the console. “This can’t be right. It doesn’t make sense.” “If you can’t make sense of something, I’m worried.” “It’s the diagnostic. This reading from the hyperdrive…” “What’s wrong with it?” “I have no idea, because as far as the system knows, there is no hyperdrive on this ship.” Xalkory appeared in her peripheral vision. “Could it have been damaged?” “If that were the case, it should still show up on the diagnostic. According to this reading, however, it simply isn’t there.” “That can’t be right. Whoever did this couldn’t have destroyed the hyperdrive so completely without blowing up the ship in the process.” “Then they must have boarded and removed it.” Xalkory eyed her. “That makes absolutely no sense. Why would they do that?” “Without knowing the enemy’s identity, I can’t really speculate on their motives.” Saryn tapped her fingers against the edge of the console. “Pirates, maybe? Scavenging for parts to sell on the black market?” “There must be easier places to salvage hyperdrives than Imperial warships. Especially ones currently in use.” “I never said they were smart pirates.” “Run the numbers, Saryn.” Xalkory gestured down at the dead security officer. “Do you really think pirates did this?” She opened her mouth, then closed it. The calculations were there in her head, but there were variables missing. “I…no. I don’t. There’s too much fear in the Force. This was a well-trained crew, some of them veterans. They wouldn’t have been this afraid of a few pirates.” “Who does a disciplined Imperial crew fear, then?” “I intend to find out.” Saryn turned away from the console. “Let’s head for the bridge. There must be answers there.” They were halfway down the corridor when the deck trembled suddenly under the force of some distant concussion. “Tell me that wasn’t part of the ship deciding to explode,” Xalkory said. “It probably was. It’s been drifting in this state just long enough that unstable systems are starting to, well...become very unstable." “We’d better pick up the pace, then.” Saryn nodded and did so. “We could go back to the shuttle. Leave while we still can.” “I’m following your lead, and I don’t see you turning around.” “And if it were just you?” “I wouldn’t leave. Not yet.” Xalkory frowned as they passed a crossroads where a section of corridor had been sealed off by emergency blast doors. “There’s something off about this, and I don’t like it.” The ship shook again. Saryn stumbled and caught herself against the nearest wall. “That felt stronger than the last one,” Xalkory observed. “It did.” Saryn pushed herself away from the wall. “Making to the bridge is starting to seem less likely.” “I thought you wanted to find more information?” “I do, but I also don’t want to die. If this keeps up, we have to prioritize our survival.” Another concussion shook the corridor. “That felt different,” Saryn said. “And close.” Xalkory frowned and drew his lightsaber. Saryn backed away from the wall to stand near him. “No life signs, but we found droid remains. I wonder if—” The Force crystallized in her mind into a harsh, resonant note. Instinctively, she drew on its power and pushed outward an instant before the wall where she had just been standing exploded. Molten shrapnel bounced off her improvised barrier.. Half a dozen battle droids poured through the gap. Five were bipedal, while the sixth was a heavy tripod unit. Their base model appeared to be Imperial models, but they’d been modified: all were plated with heavier armor than standard specs, and the biped units had long, serrated blades attached to their arms. “Now that I think about it,” Xalkory remarked, “the burned-out droid I was looking at earlier did resemble one of these. Now that I see the blade, it makes sense.” “What a wonderful time for you to figure that out.” The droids opened fire. Saryn and Xalkory moved in opposite directions; out of the corner of her eye, she watched him deflecting the shots back towards the biped units, advancing steadily towards them. They were heavily armored, but probably not to the extent that they were lightsaber-proof. Confident that he could handle himself, Saryn turned her attention towards the tripod droid. Its optics gleamed red as it fixed her in its sights. The missile launchers riding heavy atop its squat frame erupted to life and sent a pair of missiles burning through the air. Guided by the Force, she was already rolling out of the way. The missiles exploded against the wall behind her. Saryn let her roll carry her to her feet. Untapped power pulsed through her with every heartbeat. She stared at the droid with a look as relentless as its targeting lock on her and let herself get angry. These droids had killed Imperial soldiers. Good soldiers, loyal soldiers, who’d wanted nothing more than to serve their Empire. Soldiers like her father. But their loyalty and dedication had not been enough to save them. Fury blazed to life within her, searing outward from her heart like molten metal being poured into a mold. Her veins burned, every nerve in her body screaming under the onslaught. She held onto the power with an iron grip even as she withered in its unbearable heat. The droid fired another salvo. Saryn stretched out a hand and pushed. The missiles disintegrated. The droid crumpled, creaking as it folded inward on itself, crushed smaller and smaller until something in its internal components exploded in a small fireball. Kinetic energy rushed outward from the blast. Saryn caught it, drawing it up into a tight ball between her hands, and prepared to unleash it on the next opponent. As it turned out, there was no next opponent. Xalkory stood surrounded by lightsaber-sliced droid pieces, watching her with eyes that seemed a little wider than usual. “Impressive,” he commented. Saryn let the captured energy dissipate. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath, then let it out. Most of her rage went with it. “I’ll admit, you surprised me. I was expecting lightning.” “While that is normally the logical choice against droids, I thought introducing electricity to an environment filled with failing and unstable systems might not be wise.” That was the extent of my reasoning, she told herself. I wasn’t showing off. That would be inefficient. “That is an excellent point,” Xalkory said. He deactivated his lightsaber and replaced it on his belt. “Onward to the bridge?” Saryn hesitated, reaching out with her senses. “I think…” The deck shivered beneath her. “I think we can make it if we hurry. Come on!” She set off at a rapid jog down the corridor. Xalkory kept pace beside her. Neither of them stopped to comment as they passed more droid remains piled near a pair of bodies in Imperial trooper armor. They slowed to pass through a section where the emergency lights were flickering, nearly extinguished, then picked up the pace again. Saryn had the layout of the ship affixed so firmly in her mind that she nearly ran headlong into the closed blast doors that loomed up suddenly before them, blocking their path. “Is there another way?” Xalkory asked. “Yes, but we’d have to backtrack significantly.” Saryn tapped the blast door. “There’s a turbolift on the other side of this. We just need to get to it. Probably won’t be functioning, but we can Force leap up the shaft.” She spotted a terminal beside the blast door and walked over to it. “Hold on. I’ll try to open this.” Xalkory took up a defensive position. “I’ll watch your back.” Saryn entered her Sith authorization code into the terminal. “Let’s see if I can…damn. The corridor beyond the blast door took heavy fire. It’s open to space. That’s why it’s sealed off. We have to find another way. I’ll scan the alternate route, see if it’s passable.” “All things considered,” Xalkory mused, “I would have expected more of the ship to be that badly damaged.” “Oh?” “Everyone aboard is dead,” Xalkory said flatly. “Yet the ship is mostly intact. We’re walking around without envirosuits. There should have been survivors.” “Maybe those droids we encountered killed everyone.” “Where are their bodies, then? We’ve barely seen any.” Saryn glanced over her shoulder. “Maybe they—” The terminal flashed red in her peripheral vision. She looked back and inhaled sharply. “Damnation.” “What is it?” “Volatile substance leak in the aft battery. It could explode at any second.” She turned around. “If it starts a chain reaction, the entire ship will likely be destroyed.” Xalkory grimaced. “And here we are, standing in the middle of it. I’m thinking the bridge isn’t going to happen.” “Agreed.” Saryn gave the blast doors a last look, then shook her head. “We should, ah, probably start running.” And so they did. They were nearing the hangar when the ship shook violently. The emergency lights went off and the deck canted sharply sideways. Saryn lost her footing and tumbled down towards the wall, which had become the floor. Before she could reach it, the artificial gravity generator caught up and she fell back onto the deck. The emergency lights came back on briefly, then settled into an uneasy flickering. “There went the aft battery,” muttered Xalkory, who had undergone a similar journey from floor to wall to floor. “Time’s up.” Saryn scrambled to her feet. “We can make it!” She raced down the corridor. All around her, the ship rumbled. She fought back panic. She had insisted that they stay. She’d been reckless. If they died here because of her— The force of the next explosion knocked her to the floor. Xalkory was immediately on his knees beside her. “That was too close. Come on.” He put an arm around her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. “We have to keep moving.” Saryn nodded and slipped free of his arm to jog forward down the corridor. The hangar was around the next corner; they just had to make it there. She turned the corner. The hangar was gone. A tangle of burning debris filled the space between where she stood and the splintered remains of the hangar entrance. The flickering translucence of an emergency forcefield filled in the ragged gap; beyond it, more debris floated freely in the vacuum. As Saryn watched, the forcefield wavered. She said the first thing that came to mind. “I don’t think my father is getting his shuttle back.” “He won’t give a damn about the shuttle if he doesn’t get you back,” Xalkory said fiercely. “We might still be able to make it to the escape pods.” “They’re two decks below us.” “Then we cut through the floor.” Xalkory drew his lightsaber and stabbed it into the deck at his feet. The Force whispered a warning. Saryn looked over just in time to see the emergency forcefield flicker, then die. A gale howled to life as the ship’s atmosphere began rushing out through the hole in the bulkhead. The debris closest to the opening immediately tumbled out into space. The force of the vacuum swept Saryn off her feet and sent her tumbling down the corridor. Adrenaline seared through her veins, and with it, power. She gathered the Force and laid a telekinetic barrier across the gap. The wind stopped as the vacuum was cut off. The remaining debris fetched up against the invisible wall, forming a smoldering heap. Saryn was carried by the last of her momentum to the edge of the pile, then came to a halt on her back on the scorch-marked deck. She gritted her teeth, blood pounding in her ears as her lungs struggled to draw in air that had suddenly become much scarcer. Her barrier was heavy in her mind, a terrible weight being steadily pulled by the inexorable strength of the vacuum. The flames flowing over the edge of the debris pile were dangerously close, but she couldn’t move. All of her strength went towards the barrier. You can’t hold this forever, the logical part of her brain whispered. It’s you against gravity, and that isn’t a battle you can win. You can only delay defeat. Hands took hold of her shoulders and pulled her away from the fire. Xalkory’s concerned face entered her field of vision. “Are you all right?” he asked. “Yes,” she whispered, barely moving her lips. “Have to concentrate.” He glanced in the direction of the hole in the ship, then back down at her. “Ah. Of course. We need to get out of here—that fire is eating up oxygen.” “I’ll hold as long as I can,” Saryn gasped. “Escape pods—hurry—” The ship shook. “This place is disintegrating,” Xalkory said grimly. “I’ll try to cut us a way down.” He left her field of view. Saryn closed her eyes and diverted her full attention to holding back the void. Pain blossomed in her head. The pull of the vacuum grew stronger, although she knew it wasn’t really—she was just getting tired. When this is over, she thought absently, I really need to work on my endurance training. It was an overly optimistic thought, and she knew it. She didn’t have the concentration available to calculate the odds, but she didn’t need to in order to know that their chances of survival were rapidly falling towards zero. The sound of Xalkory’s lightsaber cutting through the deck seemed to be coming from very far away. Outside, emptiness beckoned. Maybe, she thought, she should just let go. The cold would soothe the pain in her head. She would drift out into the stars and the silence. Eternal. Peaceful. No, she thought. She squeezed her hands into fists at her sides, digging her nails into her palms. [/i]Peace is a lie. I[/i] won’t give up. I’ll keep fighting until the end. Behind her, she heard a crash of metal and Xalkory’s voice cursing in an old Sith dialect. “The deck below us is on fire,” he reported. “And I mean very on fire. We’re not getting down that way.” Something entered the fringes of Saryn’s awareness. Something with mass, swimming through the nothingness towards them. And within it, a cluster of lights, gleaming against the dark. Life. “There’s a ship coming,” she mumbled. “What?” “Ship,” she repeated. Her barrier was starting to feel slippery. She fought to hold onto it, digging in with all her strength. “Coming. Here.” “My comlink’s going off,” Xalkory said with surprise. “Let me see—they’re signaling on an Imperial frequency. Yes—yes, I read you—no, we’re the only survivors.” His voice blurred into the background as Saryn refocused on her barrier. The atmosphere around them seemed to be thinning, and with it, her reserves of energy. “Tell them to hurry,” she rasped. “They’re going to pull up alongside the gap in the bulkhead. I can see them.” His tone turned dubious. “This had better not be a trap.” “It’s them or death,” Saryn muttered. “Fair point. Here—” Saryn’s eyes opened in surprise as Xalkory scooped her up off the floor. “Wha—” “Just concentrate on keeping that barrier up a little while longer.” She made an affirmative noise and let her head rest against him. The pain in her head was rapidly spreading throughout her entire body. The Force flowed into her, through her, corroding her with its terrible power… “They’re here,” Xalkory said. Saryn peered ahead and saw a shuttle hovering just outside the ship. Its hatch was open, framing a figure in Imperial spacetrooper armor. She let the barrier fall. The shuttle was not sealed to the side of the ship, and as soon as the barrier went down, the vacuum resumed its effects. Saryn tried to funnel the debris away from the shuttle, but she had only a suggestion of strength left, and a number of pieces impacted the shuttle’s hull. Xalkory, still holding her, let the suction carry him down the corridor and into the shuttle’s airlock. The spacetrooper grabbed him by the arm to steady him, then hit the hatch control. The sound of the hatch sealing echoed in Saryn’s head. The ebbing tide of the Force whispered a fading warning. The spacetrooper was drawing a blaster. She tried to stand, to speak, but she had no strength left. A darkness softer than space but no less inexorable washed over her, and she fell into unawareness.
  7. Less of a wait than usual! Yay! Dad!Quinn was certainly an interesting concept to try to wrap my head around. Writing him was pretty fun, as it turned out. Sixty-One Abandoned Mining Facility 35 ATC Despite his best efforts, Rhys found himself glancing nervously at Kira at regular intervals as they left the ship and made their way down a dimly lit corridor. She had barely said a word to him since Nar Shaddaa. It pained him. They had been doing so well together, maybe even starting to become friends. And then, in a matter of moments, it had all gone wrong. She’d made her disapproval clear. But what other choice had he had? The memory of taking Galen’s life pained him, but it was what the man had wanted, and now he was at peace. It wasn’t murder, Rhys told himself stubbornly. It was an act of mercy. It was what he wanted. Kira didn’t see it that way, though. Enough, he resolved. I won’t go over it anymore. It’s already done. Besides, who knows what kind of situation we’re about to walk into? I can’t let myself be distracted. He needed to make amends. Somehow. If it wasn’t already too late. Rhys was still deliberating over how best to initiate a safe, casual conversation when Kira broke the silence. “Sense anything?” she asked. Rhys slowed his pace and let his eyes fall half-closed, questing outward with the Force. A moment later, he returned to the present with a frown. “I’m not sure. There might be something up ahead, but I can’t quite make out what it is, or who, or how many.” “That’s not like you,” Kira noted. “Back on Taris you pinpointed that Imperial base from—I don’t even know how far away.” “Something’s different here. There’s something…foggy about this place.” Rhys looked around and shivered. “I wonder why it was abandoned?” “I’m sure they just depleted the mine and packed up and left and everything was fine,” Kira said unconvincingly. A sense of foreboding began to press on Rhys. “I hope the facility hasn’t become too run-down since it was last manned. Equipment failure in a mining station like this tends to be—well, let’s just say it’s not good.” “That’s right, you grew up on one of these.” The look of sympathy Kira gave him was the warmest she’d been towards him in some time. “If this is bringing back any memories, I hope they’re not unpleasant.” Rhys shook his head. “Nothing. Just as well.” “Probably,” Kira murmured, then lapsed into an uneasy silence. They reached the end of the corridor to find the doorway leading into the next room closed and locked. Rhys tried the controls, found them nonfunctional, and resorted to ripping the entire door out of its frame with a burst of telekinesis—a more extreme approach than necessary, but the effort relieved some of his tension. He half-expected Kira to make some jab at him for showing off, but she stayed quiet. She did have the good graces to look impressed, however, which made his day inexplicably brighter. That sense of warmth quickly faded as they passed through the doorway into a hangar. The exterior doors were open, a shimmering forcefield keeping the vacuum of space at bay. Hoses and fuel canisters were lined up neatly beside each landing zone demarcated on the floor. A handful of hauler droids, deactivated and limned with rust, waited by a freight turbolift for a cargo that would never arrive. In the center of the hangar, an Imperial shuttle crouched sleek and shining amidst the decaying equipment. A blond human man dressed in elegant civilian clothes stood a short distance in front of it, hands clasped together in front of him. Rhys might have taken him for a noble or a diplomat were it not for the Force that he could sense within him. This was definitely not Admiral Hacklin. “Greetings,” the man called out in a smooth, Imperial-accented voice as they approached. “Your quick response is appreciated.” He gave a polite bow. “I am Valis. Please forgive the deception; Admiral Hacklin remains Darth Angral’s faithful servant. His name merely served to expedite this meeting.” “Hello, Valis,” Rhys said. He kept his hands close to his lightsabers, but did not draw them. “As ruses go, this is respectably elaborate. Might I assume that you’re here to collect my head for Angral?” “A reasonable assumption to make.” Valis smiled pleasantly. “And an incorrect one, I’m afraid.” “Rhysven,” Kira said tightly from beside him, “I know you like to talk philosophy with the Imperials, but could we maybe skip that step, just this once? I have a really bad feeling about this guy.” Rhys looked over and found her staring at Valis with eyes like a sky before a storm. The hilt of her lightsaber quivered in her hand as she held it in a grip that was probably white-knuckled under her glove. He had never seen her like this, so devoid of her usual humor. It was like looking at a stranger. Unbidden, his mind returned to Nar Shaddaa. I thought I knew you, she’d said quietly as Galen’s body fell to the floor. Maybe I was wrong. Was this how she’d felt, seeing him in that moment? “Kira,” he said. He tried to sound calm, patient, wise, as a Knight speaking to a Padawan should. “Let’s not do anything rash.” “He’s a Sith,” Kira snapped. “We have to kill him before he kills us.” “Now, now, Kira,” Valis said, shaking his head. He spread his hands entreatingly. “Is that any way to talk about your family?” Kira’s lightsaber blazed to life. “Don’t. You. Dare.” “What?” Rhys looked from Kira to Valis and back, trying to see a resemblance, and found none. “Family? Kira, do you know this man?” “He’s trying to confuse you,” Kira said quickly—too quickly. “Typical Sith tactics—I told you I had a bad feeling—” “I am not the one trying to deceive you, Jedi,” Valis broke in. “In fact, I orchestrated your arrival for the purpose of revealing information. You see, your Padawan isn’t who you think she is—and she is certainly not a Jedi.” “Shut up!” Kira shouted. She leaped for Valis, lightsaber flashing. He dodged at the last moment, stepping out of the way with unnatural speed, and drew a lightsaber of his own. “Such aggression. Such anger...and, dare I say, hatred?” Kira cried out wordlessly and slashed at him. Valis parried one-handed, his smile never wavering. “Kira,” he said, looking at Rhys, “is like me: a Child of the Emperor. Chosen at birth to serve his glory, infused with his own great power.” Rhys’ breath caught in his throat. Kira, a Sith? Clever, witty Kira, who had a quip for every situation, who always tried to do the right thing? And no ordinary Sith, but one who’d been chosen by the Emperor himself? The two concepts were antithetical. It couldn’t be. He said the only thing he could. “Kira, is this true?” He waited for her to deny it, to smile her wry smile and say something to put his mind at ease. But instead she bowed her head, lowered her lightsaber, and whispered, “Yes.” Valis settled himself into the opening stance of the Makashi lightsaber form. “You see, she confirms it. You need not linger here, Jedi; I have no quarrel with you. You may return to your ship and be about your business. I’m sure you’re on quite a tight schedule.” Rhys frowned. “What are you planning to do with Kira?” “Why, bring her home to our father, of course. He’s seen her now, thanks to your little brush with Darth Angral, and he wants her back.” “Rhysven, please,” Kira said. “I hid this from you, it’s true, but I swear, my loyalty is to the Jedi and the Republic. I’m not a Sith and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere with this creep!” She looked at Rhys. “You know me. You can trust me. Don’t let him turn you against me.” “Every minute you waste standing here is a minute given to Darth Angral to move against the Republic unhindered,” Valis said coolly. “This is a family matter. Leave us to settle it.” “Kira…” Rhys started. Whatever words he meant to come next got lost between his brain and his mouth. It was all happening too fast for him to process—if he could only stop time and think about it for a while— Kira gave him one last look, then shook her head and returned her full attention to Valis. “I’m not going with you,” she said calmly. “I’d rather die.” Valis shrugged one shoulder. “So be it…sister.” He attacked. Kira parried. Sparks flew as their blades clashed together, then Valis disengaged, directing a lightning-fast jab towards Kira’s left shoulder. His saber stopped halfway to its mark as Rhys leaped across the space between them and intercepted the strike with his own green and gold weapons. “You know,” Kira murmured, “I could have blocked that.” “You should have left when you had the chance!” Valis snarled. Force lightning crackled in his off hand. “We can talk about this later,” Rhys said firmly, and moved to attack. Thinking and processing could wait. For the moment, a friend was in trouble, and that was all that mattered. Some time later, Valis’ body hit the floor and did not move again. Kira deactivated her lightsaber and exhaled heavily, her entire body sagging with the motion. “I thought,” she said hoarsely, then cleared her throat and tried again. “I was starting to think you were going to walk away. Nice to be wrong.” “You obviously didn’t want to go with him. I couldn’t just stand by.” “Well...thank you.” Kira looked down at Valis’ still form and shuddered. “I, uh, I think I owe you an explanation, but can it wait until we get back to the ship? I’m feeling a strong need to be away from this place.” “Agreed,” Rhys said tersely, and set off back out of the hangar. The sound of his ship’s hatch sealing behind him filled Rhys with an inexplicable sense of relief. He’d dubbed the vessel Mistchaser, after the feeling that they were constantly pursuing an uncatchable enemy had started to get to him one day. It was starting to feel like a sanctuary of sorts, a place where even that intangible foe couldn’t get him. Maybe that was what home was, more or less. But now there was a shadow in the heart of that sanctuary. “So,” Kira said. “Should we...go sit down? I don’t know how long it’ll take to explain—you probably have a lot of questions.” Rhys found the wall immediately behind her to be quite interesting. “We shouldn’t just sit here. I need to check in with Var Suthra, decide our next move.” “Ah. Yeah.” Kira made to tuck a lock of hair behind one ear only to find that it was already there. “Would it be too much for ask for us to go to Tython? I think the Jedi Council needs to know about this.” “You’ve been keeping this a secret from them for years. Are you sure you’re ready to tell them now?” “I’m tired of secrets,” Kira said fiercely. The fire drained out of her as rapidly as it had appeared. “I’d just… I hoped I’d have more time to prove myself as a Jedi first.” Rhys, not knowing what to say, settled for a nod that he hoped came across as understanding and fled to the holoterminal to call Var Suthra. He made his excuses to the general, then set the Mistchaser on a course for Tython. As stars blurred into hyperspace’s whirl, he lingered on the bridge, staring out the viewport. You’re stalling, his mind whispered. He reached out with the Force. Kira’s presence was as bright as always on the lower deck. He knew he should go talk to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her story or her loyalties. He’d been working with her long enough to have seen for himself how dedicated she was to the light and the Jedi. But what do I say to her? Anything, he told himself, and left the bridge. As his senses had indicated, Kira was meditating in the cargo hold. She looked up as he approached, lifting a hand in a small, lackluster wave. “Hey.” Rhys seated himself on the floor in front of her. “How are you doing?” “Could be better.” She shrugged. “Could be worse, too. Thanks again for having my back.” “I’m sorry if I gave the impression that I wasn’t going to help.” “Don’t worry about it,” Kira said firmly. “Now, I, uh…you probably have questions.” Rhys hesitated, then dove in. “Is the Emperor really…?” “My father? No, thank the stars.” Kira shuddered. “The title ‘Child of the Emperor’ isn’t literal. I was taken from my real parents when I was a baby. Raised in the Sith Academy with others like Valis.” “For what purpose?” “We were trained to kill Jedi, other—stuff. You can imagine.” Kira looked off into the distance. “I’ve heard people talk about how the Empire is so different now. The Dark Council has made so many reforms; Sith can’t do awful things without consequences anymore! It’s so great!” The scar on her face twisted with her expression. “Clearly, the Emperor missed that memo.” “I’m sorry,” Rhys said, not knowing what else to say. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like.” “Oh, it gets worse.” Kira smiled mirthlessly. “Children would periodically get taken to see our ‘father.’ They’d come back different. Nobody ever remembered meeting him. And then one day, I realized I couldn’t remember anything from the past week.” “They’d taken you as well?” Kira nodded. “Once I realized what was happening, I knew I had to escape. So I stowed away on a supply shuttle. I was still a kid, not hard to hide. Lived in lots of nasty places until I met Master Kiwiiks.” Her voice softened. “She brought me to the Jedi. Changed my life.” “That’s… Kira, I…” Rhys floundered. “I’m amazed that you managed to escape.” “I got lucky. The other Children—the older Children—they were different. As if every time they were exposed to the Emperor, who they were got eroded away more and more until nothing was left but him.” Kira’s voice dropped to just above a whisper. “I had to get out before that happened to me.” “You said Master Kiwiiks found you. Does she know about your past?” Kira shook her head. “How would I even bring it up? ‘By the way, I was born a Sith.’” “Sith have become Jedi before,” Rhys pointed out. “Sure, but this is different. I—I don’t—” Kira looked down at the floor. “I think I left before the process of becoming a full Child of the Emperor was complete, or I wouldn’t have been able to think for myself enough to go, but I don’t know how far it got. I don’t really know what I’m capable of.” “You’re capable of free will. I think that’s important.” Kira fidgeted with the edge of her robe. “Well, I guess if I were a ticking time bomb, I’d have gone off by now.” “That’s…certainly one way of looking at it.” “I’m an optimist,” Kira said dourly. “Didn’t you once tell me that you like to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised?” “Sometimes I have to make exceptions.” Kira raised her head and looked Rhys in the eye. “So. Now you know. Thoughts? Feelings? More questions? Hate me, never want to trust me again, et cetera?” “I don’t hate you,” Rhys said, trying to put as much sincerity into his voice as he could. “Oh. Well. That’s nice. Of course, hate’s against the Jedi Code anyway. I was just testing you.” Kira gave a nervous laugh. “As for trusting you, I think if you were loyal to the Empire, you’ve had many opportunities to betray me long before this.” “Very logical.” “I do think that telling the Jedi Council about this is a good idea.” “Probably.” Kira twisted her hands together. “Killing Valis…didn’t matter, in the end. The Emperor knows where I am, now. He’ll never stop hunting me.” She smiled wryly. “Makes Darth Angral not seem so bad, doesn’t it?” “Angral is the more immediate threat.” “That reminds me—how did your chat with Var Suthra go?” “It could have gone better,” Rhys admitted. “He had some bad news.” Kira frowned. “What now?” “Master Orgus and Master Kiwiiks have both dropped out of contact. The general wants us to investigate after we’re finished on Tython.” “What?” Kira’s eyes widened. “The masters are—you should have told me!” She scrambled to her feet. “We have to go after them.” “We’re already en route to Tython—” “Doesn’t matter. This is more important.” She walked out of the cargo bay. Rhys jumped up and followed her. “I thought you wanted to come clean to the Council.” “If anything happens to Master Kiwiiks because we took too long, I’ll never forgive myself. This is more important than my guilty conscience.” Kira marched up the stairs to the main level. “T7 can pull the ship out of hyperspace early. It’ll rattle us a bit, but…” She paused at the top of the stairs, turning around to look at Rhys. “Uh, it’s your call. Master.” “Don’t call me—” Rhys shook his head. “If you’re absolutely sure you want to put this off.” “I’m sure. There’s too much at stake. Revelations can wait.” “All right,” Rhys said. “We’ll head for Tatooine first, see what’s happened to Master Kiwiiks.” Kira’s hand tightened on the railing. “I just hope we’re not too late.”
  8. five months entirely too late Thank you, Bright, for your comment And now we continue! Sixty Aboard Imperial warship Vindication, Vaiken Spacedock 35 ATC Saryn twisted the end of her braid between her fingers until the silky black hair was wound into a single tight strand, then let it go and repeated the process. The level indicator above the turbolift doors rose one number at a time. It seemed terribly slow. Maybe it was malfunctioning. She wondered if she should call maintenance, have them run some diagnostics. Xalkory, standing beside her, gave her a curious look. “Are you nervous?” “What? No.” “Are you sure? You seem unusually on edge.” “I’m not nervous.” Saryn started winding up the end of her braid again, then realized what she was doing and dropped it. “Why would I be nervous?” “Far be it from me to make that kind of presumption.” “I’m not nervous about seeing my father,” Saryn said defensively. She looked away from Xalkory back to the turbolift level readout. “Just…a little tense, I suppose. For other reasons.” The turbolift doors opened. Saryn stepped out into the corridor, Xalkory following in his usual position just behind her. “This place seems unusually busy,” he observed. “The whole fleet does. Because of Angral, I expect.” “Yes. Father likes to be prepared for any eventuality.” “Something the two of you have in common.” “I take pride in being like him.” Saryn stopped in front of the door to her father’s office and fixed Xalkory with her most determined expression. “Now. I am going in, and you will wait outside.” He inclined his head. “Very well.” “You’re not going to argue? Tell me that you have to be within two meters at all times for my own protection?” “I doubt you’re in any danger from your own father. I certainly won’t deny you a private conversation.” Xalkory smiled. “And if an assassin happens to appear in the corridor, then I’ll stop them right here.” “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.” Xalkory leaned with too-deliberate casualness against the nearest wall. “I’ll let you get to it.” Saryn gave him a nod, then headed inside. Malavai Quinn’s office was unusually small given his rank. Saryn knew he felt a grandiose audience chamber was a waste of space, especially on a starship, and had selected a cabin accordingly. Two Imperial banners on the far wall were the only decoration, and a desk and chair were the only furniture. The desk held a few datapads, stacked with meticulous precision, and a small, framed holoportrait facing away from the door that Saryn knew to be a picture of her mother. The man himself looked up as Saryn entered. To her, he was the model upon which all Imperial commanders should be based: as regal as any Sith in his Grand Moff’s uniform, as dignified as a monument in his demeanor. Age had etched grim lines onto his face and sent a steady march of gray through his hair from the temples on up. Saryn remembered A’tro gently teasing him about it at the last event they’d attended together as a family, using that soft and playful tone of voice she reserved just for him. At the time, Saryn had made a loud joke about flirting in front of their daughter and made a show of embarrassment. Now, she wished she’d let them have their moment. “Hello, Father,” Saryn said. Quinn’s eyes, the same blue as her own, widened in surprise. “Saryn? This is unexpected.” “It was something of a spontaneous decision. I wanted to surprise you.” She paused and bit her lip. “If you’re busy, I can come back.” “No, no, it’s quite all right. I’m happy to see you.” Quinn set down the datapad he’d been holding. “I was just reviewing a report from the Second Fleet. It can wait.” Saryn walked over to his desk and perched herself on the edge. “How are you?” “I’ve been preoccupied with ensuring that our forces are prepared to move against Darth Angral should the Dark Council deem it necessary.” It wasn’t an answer to her question, but she hadn’t really expected one. “And how are those preparations coming, if I may ask?” “Well enough. I’ve identified a few weak points in our operational methods that need to be corrected, but overall I am reasonably satisfied with the state of things.” “That’s good to hear.” “And you, my dear?” The lines on Quinn’s face seemed unaccustomed to smiling. “How are you faring?” Saryn shrugged one shoulder. “Darth Nox is convinced that I’m a potential target for Angral’s wrath, so she’s assigned her apprentice to me as a bodyguard until he’s been dealt with.” “Her apprentice?” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “The Kaleesh?” “No, the Pureblood. Xalkory Arenthe.” Saryn gestured towards the door. “I made him wait outside.” “I see.” Quinn’s eyebrow remained raised. “How courteous of Nox to go to such lengths to ensure your safety.” “You sound skeptical.” Quinn frowned. “It’s not my place to speculate on a Dark Council member’s motives.” “No, it’s not your place to talk about it. But you are speculating. Everyone does.” Saryn leaned towards him. “I know you don’t trust Nox. You never have. Which is wise, I think, but I also think that her intentions are ultimately in line with the Empire’s best interests.” “Convenient, then, that what is best for the Empire and what is best for Nox are often one and the same.” “Are you suggesting that someday those goals might differ?” “I don’t know. I prefer not to hypothesize without sufficient data.” Quinn shook his head. “But never mind that. I know I don’t have to tell you to be careful with Nox’s apprentice.” “He’s been fairly helpful, actually,” Saryn admitted. “But I know better than to trust him with too much information.” “Of course.” Silence fell. Saryn resisted the urge to kick her dangling legs. She knew that asking the question she wanted to ask would likely be a mistake, but… “Have you heard from Mother?” she asked. Quinn’s expression did not change. “No.” “Have you tried to contact her yourself?” “No.” “Don’t you miss her?” “Of course I do,” Quinn said softly. “But the last thing I want is to make this more difficult for her.” “She cast you aside after more than twenty years together and you’re concerned about her feelings?” “Yes.” Quinn frowned. “And I wish that you would do the same.” “Me? What do you mean?” “Saryn, you have done nothing but fight against this since it occurred.” “Of course I’m fighting against it!” Saryn snapped. “Mother is making a mistake! She needs you. You need her. You’re stronger together. But apparently, I’m the only one who is capable of seeing that!” Quinn sighed. “Your mother has made a great personal sacrifice. There is no doubt in my mind that it pained her to make that choice, and it doubtless pains her now. But she did what she believed to be right, and we owe it to her to respect that decision.” “Even when she’s wrong?” “I don’t believe she is.” “You think she should be trying to bear all of this alone?” “Do not mistake my meaning. I would give anything to be at her side right now. But…” Quinn bowed his head. “I still remember when she returned from her first meeting with—with her master. When she told me what he’d done to her, what he could still do… I had never seen her like that before. Shaken. Ashamed. And afraid—not for herself, but for those she cared for. I knew in that moment that it was only a matter of time before she would have to walk away for our protection.” “And you just accepted that?” “I have no other choice.” There was pain in his voice, a sense of defeat that Saryn had never witnessed from him. It chilled her. “I don’t think I could live like that.” “You are Sith, my dear. You don’t have to.” “I know. I’ve been trying to find a way to fix this.” “Fix it? How?” “Well, it seems to me that the most immediate threat here is the, ah, the influence that Mother is presently under. I’ve been conducting extensive research to better understand the nature of that influence with the ultimate objective of finding a way to block or reverse it.” She swallowed hard. “I thought I was close to a breakthrough, but it seems that I—I was wrong.” It hurt to say the words, to admit defeat. To be wrong… She was Saryn Zaraine: seer, sorceress, prodigy. She was supposed to brilliant. She wasn’t supposed to ever be wrong. She had a legacy to live up to. Being wrong wasn’t a part of that. “I’m sorry to hear that.” “All that effort, wasted. I was so certain.” She hung her head. “Now I suppose I have to find another way. If there is another way short of eliminating the problem at its source, which may not even be possible.” “Be careful what you say,” Quinn said sharply. “And be extremely careful with this research. If anyone were to learn what you intend… I can’t lose both of you.” Pain welled up in Saryn’s chest, constricting her lungs and throat. “Don’t talk about Mother like she’s already gone.” “I admire your resolve, but—” “But what?” Saryn slid off the desk to stand on the floor. Her self-control burned away in a white-hot flash of defiance and she slammed her hands down on the edge of the desk. “I’m not going to just give up and let that monster take my mother away from me! I’ll fight him myself if that’s what it takes!” One of the light strips on the wall behind Quinn shattered. Saryn clutched at the edge of the desk, gasping for breath. Her eyes burned; she blinked, and two droplets of liquid splashed on the desk’s polished surface. In her blurred peripheral vision, she saw her father leave his chair and move around to stand beside her and put a hand on her trembling shoulders. “It was not my intention to upset you,” he said quietly. Her lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry about the light.” “It’s replaceable. You, however…” Saryn turned towards him and flung her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He held her tightly as she made a final, valiant effort to keep her emotions in line, then surrendered to their irrevocable pull and began crying softly. “I didn’t meant to get so angry,” she choked. “I’m just so afraid Mother’s going to die.” “I know,” Quinn murmured. “So am I.” “I’ve wasted so much time. I should have known—I’m such a fool.” “You’re being too hard on yourself. I can think of no one else who would even attempt such a thing.” “Maybe it can’t be done.” “Maybe it can’t. But I know you, and I know you will fight until the very end.” Quinn’s voice grew quieter. “It is a quality that you and A’tro share.” Saryn only whimpered in response and let herself continue clinging to him as if she were still the little girl who would awaken in the night from dreams of blood and death and go running into her parents’ room for comfort. She was not that girl anymore; the nightmares of familiar corpses could not be dispelled by the knowledge that they had not come to pass at that particular moment. Each vision only added to the odds stacked against her family, a tremulous tower of evaded fate that had to someday come crashing down. She hid in her father’s embrace, his cord of rank digging uncomfortably into her cheek, and let herself cry a while longer for the mother she felt she had already lost. Then she drew in a deep breath, mustered her formidable will, and imposed calm upon her racing mind, because no matter how hopeless it seemed, the fact remained that A’tro was not lost yet. The future was a fractal of every being’s choices. A million in one chance was still a chance. She slowly raised her head. Her voice emerged scratchily, but steady. “I have to start again from the beginning, I suppose. Reassess my approach to the problem.” “That’s my singularly brilliant daughter.” Quinn squeezed her tightly, then let go and stepped back. Saryn smiled weakly and dried her eyes. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to warrant that kind of compliment.” “I thought I told you not to be so hard on yourself.” “I can always do better. You taught me that.” “That is true,” Quinn acknowledged, “but take care not to push yourself past your limits. Your family and your Empire need you now more than ever.” “I fear I’ve neglected the latter in favor of the former.” “I believe the two are more intertwined than you think. Still, since you’ve mentioned it, I may have an opportunity for you. Perhaps a diversion from your research would help you reexamine the problem.” Saryn hesitated. “I don’t know if—well—actually, yes. Yes, I think something to take my mind off this would be a good idea. Just for a little while, to refresh.” “Then I can offer you something else to occupy your thoughts.” Quinn’s tone lost its gentleness and became businesslike. “A warship patrolling near the Unknown Regions dropped out of contact. I need someone to locate that ship and discover what’s happened.” Saryn latched onto the new puzzle. “Could Angral’s forces have destroyed it?” “Theoretically possible, but unlikely. The latest intel shows Angral almost halfway across the galaxy from the ship’s last known location.” “Hmm. And you want me to investigate this?” “Correct. I’d like to handle this with some discretion.” Saryn raised a brow-ridge. “You’d send me off into a situation with this many unknown variables? Potentially risk my life?” “I know what you’re capable of. Holding you back to assuage my own anxieties would do you no favors. Besides,” Quinn added, nodding towards the door, “I assume your ‘bodyguard’ will be accompanying you if you choose to go.” “No doubt he will, yes. He seems to be taking this assignment very seriously.” “As he should.” “You’re not going to get all protective, are you?” Saryn asked dubiously. “Tell Xalkory his intentions had better be honorable, threaten him, that sort of thing?” Quinn raised an eyebrow. “Have I ever done that?” “Well, no. But Mother’s not here to do it, so I thought you might feel the need to take matters into your own hands.” “Far be it from me to do her job for her. You seem to have a positive opinion of Xalkory, however, so that is good enough for me.” Saryn smiled. “I appreciate your faith in me.” “If you weren’t Sith, I might feel differently,” Quinn admitted. “But I’ve seen firsthand how capable you are of assessing a threat—and dealing with it.” “It’s settled, then,” Saryn said briskly. “If you would be so kind as to lend me a vessel of some sort, I’ll go investigate this missing ship.” “I’ll send the full briefing to your personal datapad and notify the hangar to have a shuttle ready for you.” “I won’t waste any more time, then. I’ve probably already kept you from your duties for too long.” “Getting to see you is well worth the temporary loss in productivity.” Quinn returned to his chair. “Take care, my dear. Contact me as soon as you’ve learned anything.” “Yes, Father. Take care of yourself as well.” She turned and started towards the door. “Saryn?” She turned back. “Something else?” “If…” Quinn hesitated for a long moment, looking at the framed picture on his desk. “If you should happen to see your mother, tell her…” He stopped short, then sighed. “Never mind. Best not to add to her worries.” “If I see her,” Saryn said quietly, “I will tell her that we both love her and we stand ready if she needs us.” Quinn nodded and busied himself with his computer. Saryn smiled fondly at him even though he wasn’t looking and exited the room. Outside in the corridor, she found Xalkory still leaning against the wall looking the image of nonchalance. He straightened up when he saw her, brushing invisible dust off one shoulder of his armor. “Are you all right?” he asked. Saryn frowned. “Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Inwardly, she scolded herself for not checking in a reflective surface to make sure there were no visible signs of her little breakdown. She braced herself for him to bring it up. “No reason,” Xalkory said smoothly. “So. What now?” “Father asked me to investigate a missing Imperial warship near the Unknown Regions. I plan to leave immediately. I assume you’ll be tagging along?” “You assume correctly.” One corner of his mouth curved upwards. “Think we’ll see any action?” “I have no idea. I wouldn’t mind if we did, though.” “And I wouldn’t mind seeing how you fight.” His smirk widened. “Since you refuse to spar with me.” Saryn twirled the end of her braid around one finger. “I fight with dark powers beyond your comprehension,” she said loftily. “If we sparred, I’d likely kill you.” “You think I can’t hold my own against Sith sorcery?” Xalkory chuckled. “I might surprise you.” “I’m a seer. Nothing surprises me.” “Oh? Have your visions shown you the outcome of a sparring match between us, then?” “That would be telling,” she said in her most mysterious voice. “Oh, come on, that’s beyond transparent. You don’t actually know, do you?” Saryn grinned at him. “Come on. We have a shuttle to catch.” She started to walk past him, reaching out to pat him on the arm as she went. The contact sent a shock up her arm and into her head. Twin fusion reactions of pain spiked into her eyes. For a second that lasted eternity, she drew in a breath, trying to push back against the molten power welling up through her brain. Her emotions were still raw, however, and her self-control was too tenuous. Her vision blurred—Xalkory standing beside her became Xalkory lying at her feet, white armor charred black, violet sparks dancing briefly over him before flickering out. She could smell ozone and blood. She could hear him breathing, hoarse and defiant. He lifted his head and met her eyes. “Saryn…” She returned to reality with a jolt that resonated through her head and down her spine. The power ebbed, dragging at her like a receding tide. She stumbled in mid-step, but quickly caught herself. “Saryn?” Xalkory asked—the real Xalkory, the here and now Xalkory, with armor still intact. She grimaced, half from the lingering pain, half from embarrassment. “Sorry. I’m all right.” “Your eyes started glowing red.” He sounded genuinely concerned. “Physical contact sometimes triggers my power if I’m not careful. It’s my own fault.” Xalkory frowned. “That was a vision, then?” She nodded. “Just a brief flash. Usually I see a few different things; this was just one scene.” “Dare I ask what it was?” “Nothing galaxy-shattering. Just you, actually. Dying, I think.” Xalkory’s eyes widened. “Forgive me if I find that prospect rather galaxy-shattering after all.” “I really wouldn’t worry. Over the years, I have seen many people die in many different ways, and only a handful have ever actually come to pass.” “Right,” Xalkory said dubiously. “I—I’ll just try not to think about it, then.” “That’s probably a good idea. And try to stay clear of Force lightning, I suppose.” “Stay clear of—you do realize who I work for, right?” Saryn shrugged apologetically. “I’m just the messenger.” “Of course,” Xalkory sighed. “Let’s go get that shuttle.” Saryn nodded in agreement and led the way down the corridor, trying to ignore the sense of unease whispering in the corners of her mind. She replayed the vision in her memory: Xalkory, gravely wounded, most likely from battle with another Sith. And he’d said her name. That part unnerved her the most. She had never been directly addressed in a vision before. Logically, she knew he hadn’t been speaking to her—not present her, anyway—but the implications remained disturbing. For all her talk of visions rarely coming to pass, it still meant that there was a chance that she would be present at his death. It could be soon. It could even be that she would be the one to kill him. She shivered in spite of herself and walked faster. There were too many unknowns. She had to focus on the present. Her father had given her a mission, and she would carry it out to the best of her ability. That, for the time being, was all that mattered. And she would continue to refrain from sparring with Xalkory. Best for him not to know the full extent of her capabilities. Just in case.
  9. Fifty-Nine Kaas City, Dromund Kaas 35 ATC The thunderheads rapidly encroaching upon Kaas City’s skyline mirrored Saryn’s growing sense of apprehension as she regarded the house before her. Located in one of the oldest parts of the city, it was in a state of disrepair. Vines engulfed most of the front wall, and the few windows visible behind the thick greenery had been boarded up. In the Force, the space carried a sense of hush, as if the building itself were holding a finger to its lips. In the distance, an arc of lightning leaped between clouds. Saryn contemplated the space where it had been for a moment, then took a deep breath and focused her full attention on the house. She could feel living beings inside, but she could not discern their numbers, nor whether any were Force-sensitive. Someone or something within was actively interfering with her perceptions. Standing beside her, Xalkory looked at the house and shook his head. “In my capacity as Nox’s apprentice, I’ve had to go into an awful lot of haunted places.” “You think this is one such place?” “It has the look.” “It’s in need of a bit of work, sure, but spirits? I doubt it.” “You sound very confident of that.” “And you sound nervous,” Saryn teased. “Never thought I’d see the day.” “I am not nervous,” Xalkory said defensively. “I just have a healthy respect for Force ghosts. I’ve seen what they can do to people.” Saryn sighed wistfully. “What I’d give to see such a thing. Force phantasmagoria are so fascinating.” Xalkory regarded her with a curious expression. “You…actually want to interact with a Sith spirit?” “Certainly! There’s so much they can tell us. I think it’s extremely interesting.” Saryn pursed her lips. “But let me guess. You think I’m being reckless and foolish and I’m going to get myself killed one day by pursuing forbidden knowledge with no regard for the dangers.” “I’ll admit, the thought crossed my mind.” Xalkory shrugged one shoulder. “I also think your dedication to constantly learning and bettering yourself is both admirable and impressive. Not many Sith would go to such lengths.” Her rising sense of indignation drained away in a rush. “Well. Thank you. I was raised to always find a way to challenge myself.” He inclined his head. “Shall we proceed into this possibly haunted domicile? Darth Xyre is expecting you. Also, I think we’re about to get rained on.” Saryn looked up at the clouds. His assessment seemed accurate. “Very well. Let’s go.” She started towards the house. Xalkory kept pace beside her. “You know,” he said, “with all these Dark Council visits you’ve been having, I’m starting to think you may have missed your calling as some sort of diplomat.” Saryn gave him an incredulous look. “Really?” “Really. I mean, the fact that you’ve managed to convince Darth Xyre, the Council’s most notoriously reclusive member, to actually meet with you in person…” “You give me entirely too much credit.” Saryn gingerly made her way up the front steps, which were being slowly strangled by the roots of the vines covering the house. “I am a young Sith with no master and no title. Pherebus and Xyre would not have even deigned to respond to my messages were I not the daughter of the Emperor’s Wrath.” “And you’re smart enough to use that to your advantage. I think that counts for something.” “Perhaps. I try not to take my position for granted.” Saryn stopped at the front door. There was no sign of a security panel with which to signal the occupants of her arrival. The old-fashioned way, then, she thought, and lifted a hand to knock. Xalkory caught her by the wrist. “Wait. Let me. It could be booby-trapped.” “First the bit about ghosts, now this. Did someone spike your caf with paranoia juice?” He smirked down at her. “Just doing my bodyguard-ly duty.” Saryn raised a brow-ridge in response. “Do get on with it, then. We don’t want to be late.” Xalkory gave a courtly bow, then rapped sharply on the door. It slid open almost immediately, revealing a vast, empty chamber. Saryn stepped over the threshold and into the house. Xalkory followed close enough that she could feel his warmth against her back. “Well,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, “if this is a trap, at least we’ll have room to maneuver.” They were in a room that looked large enough to hold an entire company of soldiers standing in formation. An ornate chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling. Neither it nor any other lights were on, however, leaving the room shrouded in darkness. The space seemed intended for use as some sort of ballroom. Darth Xyre, however, was not known as a host of social functions. “There are bodies under the floorboards in here,” Xalkory breathed. “I’d bet on it.” “The floor is stone,” Saryn pointed out. “No boards.” “Attic, then.” “Xyre is an assassin, not a serial killer. I doubt she brought her targets home before eliminating them.” “Welcome.” A hooded figure coalesced out of the shadows. “You are expected. Follow me.” Saryn and Xalkory exchanged a glance, then followed the figure out of the ballroom and down a winding corridor. There, the hooded Sith opened an old-fashioned wooden door and ushered them into a room before vanishing as abruptly as they had appeared. In sharp contrast to the shadowy ballroom, this room was small and well-lit. The walls were lined with shelves holding neatly arranged rows of tools and mechanical parts, only a few of which Saryn could identify. Seated at a table in the center of the room was a slight figure in a hooded robe. Physically, this Sith was indistinguishable from the one who had escorted them in, but Saryn could feel their strength in the Force. There was no doubt in her mind that this was Darth Xyre. Xyre did not look up at her visitors. Her head remained bent over the worktable, hood completely obscuring her face. The sleeves of her robe were rolled up halfway to the elbow to reveal a pair of cybernetic hands, their dark metal components glinting under the room’s bright light. Fingers as spindly as a skeleton’s held a tiny precision tool with which she was deftly manipulating the inner workings of a small device. Saryn waited for several long moments to be acknowledged, then finally cleared her throat and spoke. “Darth Xyre? I’m Saryn Zaraine. You asked me to meet with you.” “Technically speaking,” Xyre said without looking up, “you asked to meet with me. I just agreed to it.” Her voice held a noticeable mechanical rasp. “That is true, my lord.” Saryn hesitated. “Forgive me, I seem to be intruding.” Xyre picked up the device she was working on with a small pair of pliers and held it out. “You’re not. I’m always working. Always something to be improved.” She slowly moved the device back and forth, pointing first at Saryn, then at Xalkory, then back to Saryn. The device was small, black, and circular, with a pinpoint of red light at the center. A cybernetic eye, Saryn realized. Crafted in a traditional Sith style, designed to intimidate rather than imitate life. So she is looking at us. “I’ve been watching you, Saryn Zaraine.” Xyre made a small gesture with the eye. “I think I know what you’re after. I don’t think you’ll get it, though. Not from me.” Saryn tensed. “Could you…elaborate, my lord?” “Drop the title. Save yourself some breath.” Xyre laid the eye back down on the table and resumed tinkering with it. “I don’t get many visitors anymore. Not since I retired from the assassin’s trade and took up politics. I know why you’re here. But I want to hear it from you before I tell you anything. So talk.” For a woman Pherebus implied was half-mad, she seems remarkably coherent, if eccentric, Saryn noted. All the more reason for me to pursue the answers I came here for. She stood up straighter and clasped her hands behind her back. “Darth Pherebus told me about the events of the Oricon campaign,” she said briskly. “But I want to hear your version. How did you defeat the Dread Masters?” “Lightsaber trauma to the vital organs.” “That’s not quite what I meant.” “I know.” Xyre gestured to one side, and a small box came floating down from a shelf over to her table. She began rummaging inside. “Some people think the Dread Masters were immortal. I like to remind them that they weren’t. Only the Emperor’s got that kind of power.” That’s not all they have in common, Saryn thought. “Now,” Xyre continued, “I know you met with Pherebus. I know she gave you some of her precious data that she collected during the campaign.” “How—” Saryn started. “Like I said, I’ve been watching you.” Xyre extracted a miniscule metallic part from the box and inserted it into the cybernetic eye. “Don’t take it personally. I watch everyone. Especially Pherebus. I will say, if you’re trying to replicate the Dread Masters’ methods, you’re going about it the wrong way. That data won’t help you.” “I don’t want to use their power,” Saryn said quickly as Xalkory gave her a look. “Just to understand it.” “That’s what Pherebus said, and look what happened to her.” Saryn frowned. “‘Happened to her?’ I thought Pherebus survived Oricon unscathed.” “That’s what she wants you to think. Just like she wants you to think that I am barely saner than the Dread Guard. But she’s lying. She always lies. Even to herself.” “Then tell me the truth,” Saryn urged. “Please. You can trust me.” Xyre let out a low, metallic laugh. “Trust you? The daughter of the one Sith in the Empire with the authority to kill absolutely anyone she likes? I’ve always wondered if that position’s hereditary.” Saryn gave an involuntary shudder and hoped desperately that neither Xyre nor Xalkory noticed. “Still,” Xyre said, “I don’t want to get on Darth A’tro’s bad side. Nor, I think, do I want to be on yours—strong as you are, I’m sure you’ll be on the Council someday. I’d best start getting in good with you now. So here’s the story: the moment we set foot on Oricon, Pherebus started losing her mind. Not entirely her fault; she shielded our soldiers from the Dread Masters’ corruption, so they targeted her.” “She implied as much when I spoke with her.” “Mhm. And I’m sure she didn’t tell you that in the end…they got to her.” “Well, that sounds very, very not good,” Xalkory muttered. “When we confronted the Dread Masters in their fortress, they asked Pherebus to join them,” Xyre said flatly. “And she accepted. She turned on our strike team and attacked us. I was the only survivor.” “What?” Xalkory exclaimed. “I’ve never heard that—you didn’t tell the Dark Council, did you? Why would you omit such a thing from your report? If Pherebus is a Dread Master—” Xyre cut him off. “Pherebus is not a Dread Master. When the last of that lot died, their hold on Oricon wavered. Pherebus returned to her senses, dragged me out of the fortress and back to the fleet, and gave the order for orbital bombardment.” “To keep the Masters’ power from ever being used to wreak havoc again,” Saryn murmured, “or to cover up what she’d done?” “Exactly.” Xyre laid down her tools and held up the eye to look at Saryn. “The mind is a curious thing. Pherebus might be fine. Or one day, she might not be. There’s no way to know. So I watch her.” “That’s a considerable gamble to take with the Empire’s safety,” Xalkory snapped. “Why not just eliminate her and be done with it? If even some of what they say about your skills as an assassin are true, it should be easy.” Xyre swiveled the eye towards him. “Don’t get uppity with me, boy. I may not require you to grovel at my feet, but I’m still a member of the Dark Council and you will address me with respect.” Xalkory bowed deeply. “I apologize, my lord. I overstepped.” His tone was cool, but Saryn could see clenched muscles interlaid between the ridges on the side of his face. “You’re underestimating Pherebus, you know.” Xyre turned away from them, lifting the cybernetic eye up under her hood. “She withstood the Dread Masters for a long time. She’s extremely powerful. Could I kill her? Maybe. But it’s a big maybe. Besides, contrary to the precedent set by your master, Dark Council members aren’t supposed to just up and murder each other.” “What about the Emperor’s Wrath?” Xalkory asked with a significant look at Saryn. There was a muffled click. Xyre turned back towards them, raising her head just enough for Saryn to see two points of red light casting a faint glow against metal in the shadow of her hood. “Pherebus is no threat to the Emperor. Not worth his notice.” “Lord Xyre,” Saryn said, trying to steer the conversation back towards its intended purpose, “you told me earlier that I would not get what I was looking for from you. I was wondering if you could explain that?” Xyre folded her metal hands together on the table in front of her. “Pherebus’ data is only a piece of the puzzle. The influence the Dread Masters exerted over their followers was only a fraction of the threat they posed. The true danger came from artifacts called the Seeds of Rage, which they used to sow corruption across a dozen planets.” “I’ve never heard of any such artifacts, nor their usage by the Dread Masters,” Saryn said suspiciously. “The Masters’ servants stole them from a vault entrusted to the Sphere of Technology by the Emperor himself. My predecessor on the Council, Darth Acina, dispatched me to recover the Seeds before they could do any real damage. I was successful, but Darth Nox still killed Acina for letting the Dread Masters get their hands on them in the first place.” Xyre shook her head. “A waste. Not that I’m not grateful for the promotion.” Saryn’s eyes narrowed. “So you’re saying that the Dread Masters themselves weren’t the real threat?” “Precisely. The Seeds of Rage would have devastated the galaxy even if the Masters themselves had died halfway through the process. I’d tell you to go study them instead of Pherebus’ data, but they’d probably drive you mad. And then your mother would kill me.” “I see.” A frown settled on Saryn’s brow as her brain took off in a frenzy of calculations and reconsiderations. “I was unaware of this information. Thank you for sharing it with me.” Xyre leaned back in her chair. “You still haven’t told me why you’re so interested in the Dread Masters. Why not let the ghosts of Oricon lie? Surely there are less volatile powers a young Sith like yourself could take an interest in.” “The Dread Masters were unique,” Saryn said. “I find that intriguing.” “Curiosity killed the vine cat.” “How fortunate that I am not a vine cat, then.” Xalkory gave a quiet cough that might have been covering a snicker. “Indeed.” Xyre lifted a hand, and the parts and tools scattered across her worktable began arranging themselves into orderly rows. “I have seen a shadow fall over the Emperor’s Wrath, a shadow that only grows longer with time. I know better than to look for what casts it.” “I think that is for the best,” Saryn said softly. “Perhaps you should follow your own advice, then.” Saryn stiffened. “I can’t do that.” “Then your fate rests in your own hands. I wish you luck.” Xyre pointed to the door. “You may go.” “What of the price for this meeting?” Saryn asked. “There must be something you want from me in return.” Xyre shook her head. “I meditated for a long time before agreeing to see you. I believe it is the will of the Force that I share this information. I’m sure in the long run it’ll come back to benefit me somehow.” “I’m very grateful,” Saryn said. “I’m sure you are.” Xyre flexed her clawlike fingers in a wave. “When the time comes to choose sides, I'll be on the winning one. I hope you are, too. Good day.” Saryn bowed and left, Xalkory following close behind. They exited the house to find it was raining hard. Saryn squared her shoulders and struck out resolutely through the downpour, ignoring the thick droplets that quickly plastered her hair to her scalp and turned her braid into a waterlogged lump. “That was…interesting,” Xalkory commented. “That it was,” Saryn said grimly. “Do you believe what she said about Darth Pherebus?” “Do you?” “Maybe. I’ll have to inform Nox of the potential threat.” “I’m not certain that’s a good idea. We have no evidence save Xyre’s word that Pherebus could become dangerous.” “All Sith Lords are dangerous,” Xalkory pointed out. “Even if it turns out that Xyre was lying, it can’t hurt to have Intelligence keep a closer eye on Pherebus. Just in case.” “I suppose there’s no harm in that.” A thunderclap drowned out Xalkory’s next words. Saryn peered over at him through the rain. “Pardon?” “I said, what was that about a shadow being cast over your mother?” “Oh. That.” Xyre knows about the Emperor’s hold on Mother. She must be able to feel it somehow—her cybernetics, perhaps? “I’m not sure what she meant by it.” “Saryn, I’m getting the sense that you’re not being entirely honest with me.” “Of course I’m not being honest with you.” Saryn gritted her teeth and blinked rain out of her eyes. “There are…forces at work that you don’t know about. But it’s my affair and I will handle it myself.” “I don’t doubt your capabilities. I only wish to offer my help, if you’ll have it.” Saryn gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s going a bit beyond the scope of what Nox assigned you to do for me, isn’t it?” “Nox doesn’t own me,” Xalkory said tartly. “I can do what I wish. And I get the sense that helping you with these ‘forces at work’ might be extremely important.” “I will consider your offer. That’s all I can say right now.” Saryn thought for a moment. “If you truly wish to be helpful, you can start by securing transportation to Vaiken Spacedock. For both of us, since I assume you’ll want to continue guarding me from Angral’s nonexistent assassins.” “You assume correctly. I’ll arrange it.” He arched a brow at her, ignoring the rain dripping off his facial ridges. “Dare I ask why?” “Xyre’s information has given me much to think about. I need time to process and distance myself from my research until I’ve figured a few things out.” “You could do that here.” “I could.” Saryn smiled. “But I haven’t seen my father in months, and I think it’s time I changed that. So arrange that transport. We’re going to visit Grand Moff Quinn.”
  10. Thank you, Kitar! Fifty-Eight Sith Intelligence Outpost, Taris 35 ATC The coordinates Seeker had provided proved to be relatively close to Godera’s bunker. Rhys was glad for the short trip, as a long journey might have sapped his and Kira’s energy for whatever might await them. He also suspected that despite her insistence to the contrary, Kira was not yet fully recovered from the injuries she had sustained on Ord Mantell. Rhys forced back the guilt that rose in him at the thought. There is no emotion, he reminded himself. Peace. There was nothing you could have done. Should have done, maybe, but— The swampy ground squished under his boots. He stumbled on a hard object buried just beneath the surface of the muck, and took several flailing steps before finally steadying himself. Kira regarded him with mild concern. “You okay there?” “Never better,” Rhys mumbled, unable to meet her eyes. He brushed invisible dust off the front of his robe. “Come on.” He hurriedly moved to walk far enough ahead that he couldn’t see Kira’s expression. So much for being mindful. He couldn’t risk letting on that he was concerned about her health; he had a feeling it would just make her annoyed, and he didn’t want her opinion of him to drop any lower than it probably already was. Force knew he had not done much to give the impression of someone who knew what he was doing. The sight of Taris’ meager sunlight glinting off metal distracted him from his gloomy thoughts. Rhys slowed his pace and laid a hand on his lightsaber as he approached the glinting object. “Looks like a wrecked speeder,” he said. Kira came up beside him. “Too shiny for an antique, and I’m pretty sure that’s an Imperial model. I think we’re on the right track.” Rhys took a deep breath and let his eyes fall half-closed, reaching out with the Force. He immediately sensed life. Given all Taris had endured, the planet was home to a surprising volume of living organisms, gleaming in his mind’s eye like a field of stars. Beneath those lights, at the edge of his awareness, Taris’ old wounds lingered. Three hundred years had softened a billion dying screams into a billion whispers, just loud enough for him to hear if he listened hard enough. Focus, Rhys told himself. He let the presences of Taris’ flora and fauna and the echoes of its destruction fade into the background. Brighter lights immediately caught his attention. These were the presences of sentient beings, their minds cold and disciplined. Blind to the Force, but still dangerous. They were clustered in an area not far ahead. Rhys opened his eyes. “They’re here.” He set off in the direction of the presences. Kira kept pace beside him. “That was fast.” “What do you mean?” “You pinpointed the Imperials’ location in less than a minute using only the Force in the middle of all this…this.” Kira waved a hand around. She had a way of making him feel self-conscious about the damnedest things. “Is—is that really that impressive? They’re not that far away. Any Jedi could have done it.” “Maybe.” Kira shrugged one shoulder. “I know I can’t feel them. Maybe it’s just me. I’m not exactly a prodigy.” But I am, apparently. “I mean, it wasn’t easy,” Rhys said awkwardly. “Every time I try to reach out, I can feel the echo of Malak’s bombardment. It’s kind of distracting.” “More like unsettling.” Kira frowned. “I can feel it too, if I concentrate. So much death and destruction…” She shook her head. “And if Angral gets his way, there’ll be a lot more Tarises in the Republic’s future.” “We won’t let that happen.” Rhys tried to sound more confident than he felt. “Look, just ahead.” A great mound rose up out of the swampy terrain a short distance in front of them. Composed of a combination of dirt and the permacrete detritus of a fallen skyscraper, it was half-covered in plant life. As he drew closer, Rhys could see an opening in the front of the mound, shored up by metal beams that looked far newer—and sturdier—than the rest of the wreckage. Rhys double-checked the coordinates. “I guess this is it.” “Imperial central.” Kira removed her lightsaber from her belt. “I can sense them, now. Feels like a whole bunch.” “A ‘bunch,’ hm,” Rhys murmured lightly. “Is that your professional opinion, Padawan?” Kira waved her lightsaber hilt at him with a grin. “Don’t you start.” “Sorry.” A smile crept onto Rhys’ face despite his uncertainty over what they were about to walk into. “I mean, really, it doesn’t matter how many there are. We’re going in regardless.” The entrance to the Imperial facility loomed before them. “Showtime,” Kira remarked. Rhys nodded once before drawing his lightsabers and heading inside. A short trip down a deserted hallway later, and they emerged into a large, open room that looked to have once been part of a Tarisian skyscraper’s sublevel. The ceiling was shored up with metal beams, and the weathered permacrete walls were lined with computer consoles and other equipment. It all appeared to have been there for some time. This was not a new operation. Probably set up during the Imperial invasion twenty years ago, Rhys thought. There were two dozen or so Imperials scattered throughout the room. Half of them wore technician’s uniforms and were busily manning the consoles. The rest were armored troopers. He had to give them credit for being alert; they had their blasters trained on him the moment he walked in the door. They didn’t start shooting. That was a good sign. Probably. Rhys had a feeling that the situation was about to deteriorate, however. At the far end of the room was a holoterminal projecting an image of Darth Angral. The man standing at attention in front of it had his back to Rhys, but there was no mistaking that black uniform. Watcher One. Angral was speaking. “Your cooperativeness in this matter will be noted, Watcher, as will your efficiency in procuring the doctor.” “Thank you, my lord,” Watcher One said tersely. “Hold Godera at your location for the time being. I will send someone to retrieve him shortly.” “Sir,” one of the soldiers pointing a blaster at Rhys cut in. “Company, sir.” Watcher One turned around. His expression did not change, but Rhys could feel a ripple of surprise in the Force. “What’s happening?” Angral demanded. “Who is—” His sudden intake of breath was audible even over the holo. “You.” “I don’t understand,” Watcher One said. For the first time, his voice held emotion: unease. “How could you possibly have located this base?” Angral’s hologram wavered, then split. The second image resolved itself into a form that Rhys recognized as the Chiss spymaster, Seeker. “The Jedi found the base because I told him where it was,” Seeker said without preamble. “This operation is finished, Watcher One. I want everyone off Taris within six hours.” Watcher One hesitated. “My orders…” “Still come from me, unless you’ve truly thrown your lot in with this traitor.” Seeker’s lip curled as she looked in Angral’s direction. “Darth Nox’s pet alien,” Angral sneered. “Somehow, I’m not surprised you lack the vision to see the righteousness of my cause.” “Uh, excuse me,” Rhys interjected. The two holograms, along with everyone in the room, turned to look at him. “I don’t mean to get in the middle of your Imperial infighting or anything,” Rhys said politely, “but it sounds like you all have a lot to talk about, so if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to take Doctor Godera and leave you to it. Where is he?” “You’re not taking Godera anywhere,” Angral seethed. “Watcher One, you will bring me the doctor and this Jedi. I’ll deal with them both personally.” “Anyone who attempts to harm this Jedi will be considered an associate of the traitor Angral and treated as such,” Seeker declared. The Imperials exchanged openly nervous glances. “Well, this is awkward,” Kira muttered. “Quite,” Rhys said. “Watcher One, sir,” one of the soldiers said. “What—what do we do?” Watcher One glanced behind him at the two holograms. Then he looked at Rhys. “Please,” Rhys said. “Listen to your boss. This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed. Just give me Godera and we can all walk away.” “Don’t you dare cooperate with my son’s murderer,” Angral hissed. “Ignore him,” Seeker snapped. “He is a traitor to the Empire. He has no authority here. Do as the Jedi says.” Watcher One bowed his head. “You will find Doctor Godera in the other room, Jedi. He is restrained, but uninjured.” He pointed towards a door on the wall to Rhys’ left. “Do with him as you will.” “Thank you,” Rhys said. “I’m glad we could—” “No!” Angral’s hologram stretched out a hand. The Force bent into dark shapes and wrapped around Watcher One’s throat. Rhys started forward, drawing on the Force in an attempt to break Angral’s hold, but he was too late. An involuntary shudder ran through him as he heard Watcher One’s neck snap. The Watcher’s light in the Force faded like a sigh and his body fell to the ground in a crumple of black. “You will regret that,” Seeker said softly into the ensuing silence. “I very much doubt it.” Angral surveyed the room. “Anyone else who aids this Jedi will meet the same fate. Do I make myself clear?” “Enough!” Rhys said loudly. “No more deaths! This is between you and me, Angral.” He took a deep breath, gathering the Force. “I won’t let you hurt anyone else.” In his mind’s eye, the holoterminal’s circuitry was laid bare to him. He seized it with an invisible hand and squeezed. A moment later, the two holograms vanished as the device imploded, sparks flying. He tried not to think about how similar the action was to what Angral had just done to Watcher One. The Imperials watched him silently. “You’re all free to go,” Rhys told them. “There’s no need for further violence.” A few hesitated, but in the end, they all filed out of the base. “That went better than I expected,” Kira remarked. She glanced over at Watcher One’s body. “And it also kind of went worse. I hate it when Sith do that.” “If Angral can kill someone from halfway across the galaxy…” Rhys bit back the urge to say how am I supposed to stop him? I’ll find a way. I’ll find the strength. I have to. “I wouldn’t say halfway. Taris is sort of in Imperial space, depending on whose star charts you look at. And if Angral was coming here to get Godera, his ship probably isn’t that far.” Kira raised an eyebrow. “On that note, let’s go get Godera and get out of here before Angral shows up.” “Agreed,” Rhys said, and set off towards the room Watcher One had indicated. “I want to get off this planet.” ***** The Citadel, Dromund Kaas Darth Nox did not appear to be surprised when Thaera barged into her audience chamber without an appointment. Then again, nothing ever seemed to surprise her. Knowing this only made Thaera’s mood worsen. “Seeker,” Nox said cordially. “How unexpected. To what do I owe the occasion? Do you have something to report on the Angral situation?” “You could say that,” Thaera muttered around a clenched jaw. Nox, who had been alternating her attention between Thaera and the view out of the chamber’s picture window, turned to face her head-on. Her dress was the same color as the gathering thunderheads outside, its heavy fabric swaying as she moved. “You seem unusually…animated. Is something wrong?” Light glinted off silver embroidery on Nox’s skirt, making Thaera think of lightning. Lightning that the Sith Lord would doubtless not hesitate to use against her if she failed to tread carefully. Control yourself, she thought. Nox has been volatile of late. Exercise restraint. Thaera stood at attention and clasped her hands behind her back. “Forgive my terseness, my lord,” she said, trying to maintain her usual bland tone. Despite her best efforts, anger continued to simmer under the surface. She could only hope that Nox would not notice. “There has indeed been a development,” Thaera continued. “Angral commandeered an Intelligence operation on Taris with the intent of abducting the Republic scientist Nasan Godera. Our profile on Godera indicates that his hatred of the Empire is equaled only by his propensity for inventing superweapons.” Weapons like the Shadow Arsenal. Her thoughts wavered towards danger, but like a pilot making a quick course correction, her mind snapped back into place before she could remember too much. Time could not heal the scars, but at least it had proven an effective anesthetic. Nox was speaking. “I’m familiar with Godera. What is the current situation on Taris?” “Resolved, my lord. The Jedi Knight Rhysven D’Anshir arrived on the planet and has returned Godera to Republic custody.” “He handled matters that quickly? Impressive.” “I assisted him in locating the doctor in the interest of stopping Angral.” Thaera’s hands tightened together behind her back. “Neither I nor the Jedi were able to prevent Angral from executing one of my best operatives, however.” “Ah.” Nox gave a knowing nod. “My condolences. Do send me this operative’s file. I’ll see to it that they’re properly honored for their service to the Empire.” “That’s very gracious of you, my lord.” “Intelligence agents do work of immeasurable value. I will not let their sacrifices go unrecognized.” Nox sighed softly and returned her attention to the window. “Thank you for apprising me of this, Seeker. You may go now.” Thaera started to turn away, then stopped. Resentment rose within her in a smoldering tide, its heat driving back the mist of fear inside her head. “My lord,” she said. Nox glanced at her. “Was there something else?” “I…may I speak freely, my lord?” “Curious.” Nox’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “In all the years you’ve served me, I don’t believe you’ve ever asked that before.” Maybe it’s taken me this long to figure out how. “I simply wonder why you’ve allowed the situation with Angral to go on as it has.” “‘Allowed?’ What an interesting choice of words.” A hint of danger drifted into Nox’s tone. “The man is acting in open rebellion. It was inevitable. What exactly are you trying to say about it?” “You could have cut this insurrection off at the knees,” Thaera said flatly. “Yet he and his followers walk free of repercussions for their treasonous acts.” “They will be punished eventually.” Nox’s voice went soft. “But Angral’s sights are fixed firmly on the Republic. I see no reason not to let him do some damage.” “And what about the damage he might to do us?” Thaera demanded. “What happened to your people on Taris was unfortunate.” Nox frowned. “Although now that I think about it, I have no recollection of that operation. What was its purpose?” “Weapons testing in conjunction with the Science Bureau. Never mind that, though.” Thaera’s hands, still behind her back, were clenched together so tightly that her fingers were starting to go numb. “Angral is out of control. He needs to be stopped.” “The Jedi will stop him.” “The young Knight? That’s unlikely.” Nox shrugged one shoulder. “If not him, then another Jedi. There are so very many of them these days.” “And if they all fail, and Angral turns his attention back to us?” Nox put her hands on her hips. “At first, I was pleased to see you showing some measure of a spine, but I find the novelty is quickly wearing thin. What do you want from me, Seeker?” “Eliminate Angral. Without him, the rebellion crumbles.” “You mean have him assassinated, I assume. To use your words—that’s unlikely.” Thaera squared her shoulders. “I could do it.” “You?” Nox said incredulously. “When was the last time you were in the field?” “I haven’t lost my skills, if that’s what you’re implying.” “Angral is a Sith Lord—” “I’ve killed Sith before.” The words hung heavy in the air for several moments. A tension settled over Nox the likes of which Thaera had never seen before. “So you have,” Nox murmured. “To think, I had nearly forgotten. Darth Zhorrid.” She shook her head. “A lunatic, by all accounts, but still a Sith. And you slew her—on Darth Jadus’ orders. If I were you, I would not have reminded me of that fact.” “Jadus is long gone. My allegiance is to you.” “That does not erase the acts you committed in his service.” Nox’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps I should be watching you more closely, Seeker. You claim to want Angral dead, but for all I know, you could be in league with him. You’ve certainly proven amenable to the sorts of acts of mass destruction he seems to favor.” A chill ran down the back of Thaera’s neck. “My lord, forgive me, but what is the purpose of revisiting those events again?” “Technically speaking, you were the one to bring it up. I’m merely speculating.” Nox clicked her tongue thoughtfully. “It’s true that you have served me well these past two decades…and yet still I wonder about you sometimes. Who you really are under the uniform and the codename. What you really want.” “What I want,” Thaera said, choosing her words carefully, “is to secure a stable and prosperous future for the Empire. I believe the best path to that future lies with you. If I thought otherwise, I would not be here.” “Then why do you persist in questioning my judgment on the Angral situation, hm? If you truly believe that I’m the future of the Empire—which I am, make no mistake—then perhaps you ought to demonstrate a little more trust.” “I apologize if I gave the impression that I—” “Yes, yes, you were merely expressing an opinion, not openly dissenting. I know how that line goes.” Thaera hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “Said opinion,” Nox continued, “has been noted. However, my orders stand. The Empire will not lift a hand against Angral unless it proves absolutely necessary. Do I make myself clear?” Thaera knew a losing battle when she saw it. “Yes, my lord.” Nox flapped a hand at her. “I grow weary of this pointless discussion. You had best be getting back to work. I expect regular reports on both Angral and his Jedi rival.” “Yes, my lord.” Thaera bowed politely and began walking away. “And Seeker?” Nox called from behind her. Thaera paused. “Yes?” “I do believe I almost saw the real you for a moment. Next time, don’t back down so easily.” “I—I won’t, my lord,” Thaera faltered, and hastened out of the room before Nox could say anything further. Out in the hallway, she had to pause and catch her breath. Being in Nox’s presence was not nearly as oppressive an experience as being in Jadus’ had been, but Thaera still felt as if a weight were lifted from her shoulders the moment she left Nox’s view. Well, she thought, I tried. I suppose that was all I could do. Was Nox truly pleased that she had questioned her? Or was she hiding anger beneath her omnipresent veneer of charm? Thaera couldn’t tell. She only knew that no matter what Nox might have said, she could not let her self-control slip like that again. No more glimpses of the “real” Thaera. While it was true that she believed Nox’s leadership was the best option for the Empire’s future, the woman was still a Sith. For all her talk of honoring Intelligence agents’ sacrifices, there was no doubt in Thaera’s mind that Nox would never make such sacrifices herself. Hers was an inherently selfish order, and their philosophy of ambition was what bred the division that threatened to destroy the Empire at every turn. And if Nox remained unwilling to do anything to combat that division, then Thaera would take matters into her own hands.
  11. I am back! Since it's been some time since the last update, here's a quick recap of what's going on in Afterimages' current plot: The amnesiac but undeniably gifted young Jedi Knight Rhysven D’Anshir has found himself opposing Darth Angral’s attempt to bring destruction to the Republic. He doesn’t have much confidence in himself, but he’ll try his best. While Rhys was able to rescue Kira from Angral’s minions on Ord Mantell, he blames himself for her having been captured and tortured. Even as he heads for Taris, the experience begins to haunt him. Meanwhile in the Empire, Saryn Zaraine is looking for a way to free her mother, Darth A’tro, from the Sith Emperor’s mental domination. Saryn has obtained data from Darth Pherebus about the brainwashed minions of the Dread Masters. She now seeks to obtain an audience with the reclusive Sith Lord Darth Xyre in order to get more information about the Oricon campaign. She hopes that by studying the Dread Masters, she can extrapolate how the Emperor’s power works and how to counter it. And now, a chapter. Fifty-Seven Hidden Bunker, Taris 35 ATC At first, Rhys had been excited to go to Taris. The planet was an important piece of history. It was impossible to have a proper in-depth discussion of the Jedi Civil War without at least mentioning Darth Malak’s bombardment. More recently, the Republic had made an effort at resettlement, only to have their efforts countered by an Imperial offensive. While the Empire had eventually withdrawn, the Republic had decided against further attempts at rehabilitating the wasteland, and Taris had been left to decay. There had been enough left of the old Republic spaceport for Rhys to land his ship in, but even with T7 staying behind to keep a photoreceptor on it he couldn’t help but worry that it would be gone when he returned. The ground, being an accumulation of wreckage, dirt and biohazardous muck, did not seem particularly stable. He had done his best to give Taris the benefit of the doubt, to treat it with his usual air of scholarly curiosity. In the end, however, his optimism had not been enough to withstand the swathes of toxic sludge and rakghouls coming up behind him at all times, and he was forced to agree with Kira’s muttered assessment of “this place is a hellhole.” It seemed that some places simply had no redeeming qualities. Still, Taris’ dilapidated surface made a good hideout for a hermit. Without Var Suthra’s information, they would never have found Doctor Godera’s hidden bunker. On the other hand, it was clearly not as well hidden as it could have been, as the place was overrun with Imperial troops who proved to not be open to surrendering. “Well, this is just great,” Kira sighed as the last Imperial fell to their lightsabers. “What do we do now?” Rhys looked around. “Since Godera obviously isn’t here, I think this means we go back to the drawing board. It seems a safe bet that the Imperials were here for the same reason we are. Let’s check the bodies. Maybe one will have orders recorded on a comlink or something.” “Rifling through dead bodies on an even deader planet,” Kira sighed. “Exactly how I wanted to spend my day.” Before Rhys could respond, a nearby holoterminal flickered to life, projecting the image of a human male. He was a window display of a man, a façade of an Imperial officer painted over the surface of something more sinister. His too-neat uniform had no rank insignia. Even as a hologram, something about him made Rhys instinctively wary. “That’s enough bloodshed,” the Imperial said pleasantly. “Let’s be professional about this.” “And you are?” Rhys inquired. He reached out with the Force, trying to sense the presence of would-be ambushers. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Kira moving to a position where she could keep an eye on the exit. “I’m Watcher One with Sith Intelligence,” the Imperial stated. “Those men you fought served me. You see, we’ve known about Doctor Godera’s presence here for some time—and now that you’re here, I’m afraid I can’t let you have him.” “If you knew Doctor Godera was here, why didn’t you do anything about it before now?” Rhys asked suspiciously. “The doctor was thoroughly entrenched, and extricating him would have proven costly in time and resources. As long as he remained estranged from the Republic, he posed a minimal threat to the Empire’s security.” Watcher One smiled thinly. “Obviously, the situation has changed.” “What have you done with him?” Rhys demanded. “Nothing, yet. But he’ll be in my custody shortly. You’re too late.” “You’re bluffing,” Rhys said. “Trying to get me to give up and leave. Well, that’s not going to happen.” “Believe what you will,” Watcher One said coolly. “It would certainly be conducive to your health if you departed Taris now, but if you refuse to negotiate this matter in a civilized fashion I will be forced to resort to extreme measures.” “I don’t take kindly to threats,” Rhys said, deliberately mimicking Watcher One’s too-cordial tone. “And I’m not leaving this planet without Doctor Godera.” Watcher One shrugged. “So be it, then. Know that Sith Intelligence prides itself on accurate threat assessment. I’ve analyzed your strengths and weaknesses in preparation.” He raised an eyebrow. “You executed Bengel Morr on Tython when he was defenseless. You consider yourself above the law.” “You what?” Kira interjected. “No!” Rhys protested. “It wasn’t like that! I tried to reason with him and he refused to surrender. I tried, it—it wasn’t my fault—” “Whatever helps you sleep at night, I suppose,” Watcher One murmured. “Such are the lies we tell ourselves. But I see my reinforcements are finally in position.” Rhys sensed the lifeforms an instant before the Imperial troopers deactivated stealth generators, revealing themselves in a ring around him and Kira. They’d been played. “Terminate them,” Watcher One ordered. His hologram vanished. Rhys drew his lightsabers and moved to stand back to back with Kira. The ring of Imperials began to tighten. The holoterminal reactivated. A new figure appeared, an alien woman in the same uniform as Watcher One. Rhys could tell that her skin would be blue even without the hologram’s tinting, and her eyes were twin splashes of inscrutable scarlet against a coldly beautiful face. He managed to dredge the name of her species from the depths of his brain: Chiss. One of the Sith Empire’s few legitimate allies—though how much choice they’d had in that alliance was debatable. “Hold,” the Chiss ordered. The single word was enough to convey the impression of a being who was accustomed to being obeyed. “Stand down. Return to base and await further instructions. Confirmation codes have been transmitted to your personal frequencies.” A few of the Imperials exchanged glances with one another. Then one by one, they reactivated their stealth generators and disappeared. The Chiss turned her attention to Rhys, or at least he thought she did; her eyes lacked irises or pupils, making it impossible to tell where she was looking. “I apologize for this unfortunate incident,” she said. “I would like to resolve the situation without further loss of life.” “Watcher One said much the same thing.” Rhys raised an eyebrow. “Then his men attacked us.” “Watcher One is in a difficult position.” The Chiss frowned. “I am Seeker, head of Sith Intelligence.” “Oh, great,” Kira muttered. “First an Imperial spymaster, now his boss?” “I don’t often communicate with members of the Republic. Except during interrogations, of course.” Seeker smiled briefly. “But I know who you are, Jedi, and I know your mission. Given the extenuating circumstances created by your arrival here, I believe a degree of cooperation between us is required.” Rhys tried to think quickly. The entire situation was extraordinarily suspicious. Of course, Seeker surely knew that. If she were trying to deceive them, wouldn’t she try something more subtle? Could it be that, as the saying went, reality was stranger than fiction? “I’ll hear you out,” he said. “But I’m not going to just blindly trust you.” “Then you’re smarter than most of your kind. Perhaps you may even survive this.” Seeker clasped her hands together in front of her. “I will be transparent. Watcher One’s operation on Taris had nothing to do with Doctor Godera. However, he and his forces have been commandeered by Darth Angral and put to the task of retrieving Godera for the purpose of furthering Angral’s interests.” Rhys sucked in a breath. “Watcher One didn’t mention he was working for Angral.” “As I said, he had no choice in the matter. One does not refuse an order from a Sith Lord, even one who has been declared a traitor.” Seeker’s voice turned bitter. “Frankly, I am tempted to let Angral have Godera. The doctor’s work has caused me a great deal of…discomfort.” She took a deep breath. “We all have our orders, however, and mine are to stymy Angral at any cost. In the interests of achieving this aim and preventing the deaths of more Intelligence personnel, I will give you Watcher One’s location. He should have retrieved Godera by now.” “You’re going to just tell us where he is,” Kira said flatly. “Just like that. No tricks, no fine print. You expect us to believe that?” “All I ask in return,” Seeker murmured, “is that you refrain from killing anyone else.” “Watcher One has already tried to kill us once,” Rhys pointed out. “Do you expect us to not defend ourselves if he tries again?” “I expect you to exercise some of that famous Jedi mercy,” Seeker said with a trace of mockery. “Transmitting coordinates now. I hope you live long enough to give Angral his due.” She ended the transmission. Rhys and Kira looked at each other. “That was weird and she was creepy,” Kira said flatly. “Anyone who gets to that high a rank in the Empire is just…off. I blame the Sith.” She shook her head. “So what do we do now?” Rhys took a long, slow breath, trying not to think about what he might be inhaling from Taris’ atmosphere, then nodded at the holoterminal. “I think we have our next destination.” “You actually want to go to those coordinates?” Kira asked skeptically. “That ‘enemy of my enemy’ talk was all very well and good, but the word of an Imperial spy doesn’t hold a whole lot of weight in my book. This feels like a trap.” “I’m inclined to agree, but this is the only lead we have.” Kira sighed heavily. “Why does it always seem to work out like that?” “As far as I see it, there are two possible outcomes.” Rhys held up one finger. “Outcome one: it’s not a trap, we find Doctor Godera, we rescue him and get off this planet and everything turns out fine.” Kira opened her mouth. Rhys held up a second finger. “Option two,” he said. “It is a trap. In which case, we fight our way through it and rescue Doctor Godera anyway.” “That is dizzyingly optimistic.” Rhys felt a blush begin to creep up into his cheeks. “Did you have a better idea?” “Well…no. Not really.” Kira shrugged. “Maybe we’ll get lucky. Lead on, fearless leader.”
  12. Thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying the story. And now, we resume... Fifty-Six The Citadel, Dromund Kaas 35 ATC “I’m still not convinced this is a good idea,” Kory said. Saryn, walking just ahead of him through one of the Citadel’s main corridors, did not turn around as she responded. “I told you, there’s nothing to worry about. This is just a social call.” “With Darth Pherebus?” “It’s not nearly as outlandish a concept as you make it out to be. Pherebus and I have a common understanding born of mutual academic interests. This is not the first time I’ve paid her a visit.” “Common understanding doesn’t mean she can be trusted.” “Of course she can’t be trusted. She’s a member of the Dark Council, after all.” The glossy black braid hanging halfway down Saryn’s back swung as she shook her head. “But she’s largely apolitical—which, I believe, is why Nox suggested her appointment to the Council in the first place—and she’s notoriously cautious. She’d never risk making an enemy of my mother by causing me harm.” “All right, all right,” Kory said resignedly. “I’ve made my objections clear. Obviously I can’t talk you out of this.” “Correct,” Saryn said in clipped tones, walking slightly faster. Kory had a feeling that saying anything more would only take the conversation in circles, so he remained silent, watching Saryn move purposefully down the corridor. Like Darth Nox, she did not seem to care for Sith robes. Instead, she wore a dark red blouse with a high collar and long sleeves, plain black pants and knee-high boots with thick heels that gave her an extra two inches of height. A lightsaber hung on her left hip from a thin sleen-leather belt, probably more for symbolic purposes than defense; he had never seen her practice. While he had his misgivings about her meeting with Pherebus, he had to admit that part of him was glad for the break in routine. Since being assigned to Saryn’s protection, his days had consisted of sitting around watching her read, and despite his best efforts he had begun to become extremely bored. A visit with a member of the Dark Council was bound to be interesting. “So,” Kory said as he followed Saryn into a turbolift. “Dare I ask why you’re paying a visit to one of the Council’s most notoriously reclusive and erratic members?” “Why does any Sith ever visit another?” Saryn asked dryly. “She has something I want.” Kory mulled that over as the turbolift plunged towards one of the Citadel’s lowest sublevels. “You’re going to ask her about Oricon,” he said finally. “Mmm,” Saryn said. “Is that ‘mmm’ yes or ‘mmm’ no?” “Mmmaybe.” Saryn gave a small, mischievous smile. Kory shook his head. “You enjoy being cryptic, don’t you?” “As Nox’s apprentice, I should think you of all people would understand such things.” “Maybe so, but…” Kory frowned at her. “Is that what you’ve been researching all this time? The Dread Masters?” “Among other things.” “Don’t take this the wrong way, but is that wise? Their powers were not exactly known for being user friendly.” “You mistake my intentions. I have no desire to utilize their methods. I am, however, very interested in comparing said methods to other Sith sorcery techniques.” “And what do you hope to gain from that?” “A greater understanding of the Force and its potential.” Saryn clasped her hands primly in front of her. “You’d find the details boring, I suspect.” She’s hiding something, Kory thought. But what? And why? It wasn’t necessarily suspicious; Sith academics were notoriously protective of their research, and Saryn had no reason to trust him. His instincts, however, told him that there was more to the situation than met the eye. Nothing involving the Dread Masters could possibly be benign, no matter how much she insisted it was all theoretical. The turbolift stopped. Kory resumed his position a few steps behind Saryn as they proceeded onward. “Is it just me,” he said conversationally, “or does the Force feel different down here?” “The dark side is more palpable in the sublevels, yes. I suspect it’s due to the high concentration of Sith artifacts being stored down here.” “You know, the more I think about it, the more it seems that keeping large numbers of volatile and dangerous items together in one place is just not a good idea,” Kory mused. Saryn shrugged one shoulder. “We’ve largely perfected containment technology by now. Besides, when they’re all in one place, it’s easier to keep track of them.” She stopped in front of a door that looked no different from all the other doors in the hallway. “Here we are.” She tapped the security panel. A few moments passed, then the door opened. Saryn strolled inside nonchalantly. Kory followed at a more cautious pace, making no attempt to hide his wariness. Pherebus’ antechamber was a hexagonal room about five meters in diameter. Two walls held closed doors that presumably led to other parts of the apartment, while the others were covered with tapestries depicting stylized scenes from Sith history. Holocrons hovered in suspension fields above display stands in the corners. Glancing over his shoulder, Kory found himself looking into the empty eye sockets of a tuk’ata skull decorated with gold and jewels mounted over the door through which they had entered. Charming, he thought, returning his attention to the rest of the room as one of the doors opposite the entrance opened. A Sith male stepped into the antechamber, his slight frame draped in heavy black robes. His bald head had been branded with a series of arcane symbols, half of which were obscured by thick scarring that appeared to be from chemical burns. Kory recognized him at once: Lord Kalith, Darth Pherebus’ apprentice. “Welcome,” Kalith said in a soft, reedy voice. “You are expected.” He motioned to the door behind him. “My master will see you now. You may proceed within.” “Splendid.” Saryn brushed past him and through the door. Kory tried to follow, but Kalith stepped in front of him as the door closed behind Saryn. “My master agreed to meet with Saryn Zaraine alone,” he said gravely. “You are not invited.” “All right, then,” Kory muttered. He took a subtle step away from Kalith; the man smelled strongly of formaldehyde. She’ll be fine, Kory told himself as irrational worry gripped him. She can take care of herself, she doesn’t need me. Besides, what could I do against Pherebus? I’m good, but not “go toe to toe with a Dark Council member” good. Not yet. That excuse won’t save me from what her mother will do to me if she gets hurt on my watch, though. Imagining worst case scenarios would get him nowhere. He looked at Kalith, who was regarding him with an air of open speculation. “So,” Kory said. “Pherebus’ apprentice.” “So,” Kalith echoed. “Nox’s apprentice.” This, Kory thought, is going to be a long morning. ***** Pherebus’ sitting room was small and cozy, the harsh angles of the walls softened by heavy black drapes. A thick carpet covered the floor, and a low table with cushions around it was the sole piece of furniture. Saryn had settled herself on a cushion across from Pherebus and pretended to drink the tea set out on the table. Off to one side, a small holoprojector displayed the image of a planet that Saryn recognized as Iridonia. It was the sole item she had seen in the apartment that acknowledged Pherebus’ Zabrak heritage; the rest was all Sith. “I think we both know this isn’t just a friendly visit,” Pherebus said gravely. Finally, Saryn thought. “My lord is correct,” she said. “Truth be told, I came seeking knowledge.” “I suspected as much.” Pherebus smiled. “You remind me of myself at your age. So bright and inquisitive. I read the paper you published last year. Very interesting.” “You’re too kind, my lord.” “Kind? That is not an adjective I often hear in reference to myself.” Pherebus chuckled. “In any case, I believe you are worthy of my insights—should I choose to share them. Tell me, what knowledge do you seek?” Saryn leaned forward and opened her eyes wide in an attempt to look as innocent as possible. “Well…I’ve heard many stories over the years of how you defeated the Dread Masters.” “Oricon,” Pherebus whispered. Her smile faded. “Ten years ago. Strange to think it’s been that long.” “I was only a child at the time,” Saryn said. “I remember hearing about it, though.” It had been the first time she’d seen her mother genuinely worried. Saryn’s power of foresight, fully manifested even at ten years of age, had tormented her with countless visions of Dromund Kaas burning at the Dread Masters’ feet. None of those visions had come to pass, however, thanks to the woman sitting in front of her. And Darth Xyre, of course, but Saryn knew better than to mention her in Pherebus’ presence. The relationship between the two Dark Council members was openly chilly. Xyre had nearly died stopping the Dread Masters, whereas Pherebus had escaped unscathed. Or so she seems, Saryn reflected, watching Pherebus’ face as she stared off into the distance. It’s the invisible scars that run deepest. “I heard about how you were able to shield the Empire’s troops from the Dread Masters’ influence,” Saryn said. “I can scarcely contemplate such a feat.” “It wasn’t easy.” Pherebus continued to look towards the far wall. Saryn suspected she was seeing not the drapes, but the desolate surface of a moon ten years dead. “It felt like trying to hold back a raging river with a thin piece of glass. Every day, it cracked a little more.” “You did it, though.” “Barely.” Pherebus closed her eyes. “I had to burn it all to make the whispers stop. Sometimes I think I still—” Her eyes snapped open, yellow irises fixing on Saryn. “I had to burn Oricon. I had no choice. It was the only way. But what they did, the way they held sway over the minds of thousands…it was incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it.” “It’s almost unfortunate that all trace of them had to be destroyed.” “Almost,” Pherebus breathed. “But…not quite. I preserved—not them, but the legacy of them. Their footprints in the sand.” She pushed the tea tray to one side, revealing a holoprojector embedded in the middle of the table. “I have data, you see. Facts and figures, solid and real. That’s what you came for, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here. You want to see the data.” Saryn’s heart began to pound. “I would like that very much, yes.” “Ambitious,” Pherebus mused. “That will get you far, if it doesn’t get you killed.” She gave Saryn an appraising look. “With all things there comes a price, however.” Saryn squared her shoulders. “I’m willing to negotiate terms, but not until I know whether this data of yours is actually useful to me.” Pherebus laughed softly. “Bold, as well as ambitious. You take after your mother.” “I get that a lot,” Saryn muttered. “So you wish a taste of secrets before you purchase the full draught. A reasonable enough request, I suppose.” Pherebus waved a hand over the holoprojector. “Take a look.” Saryn recognized the image that appeared as an electromagnetic scan of a human brain. She was sufficiently well-versed in biology to recognize that the brain had characteristics well outside normal parameters. “This is a brain scan of a Dread Guard,” Pherebus stated. “Fully under the Dread Masters’ influence. You can see the cybernetics here and here.” She motioned at the hologram. “As we discovered, however, the implants only expedite the conditioning process.” She waved a hand and a new scan appeared beside the first. “One of our soldiers. I executed him personally when he turned on his comrades. Note the similar patterns of deterioration.” Saryn drank in the holograms, trying to memorize every detail. “Fascinating.” Pherebus smiled like a proud parent. “I have more such data. I’m willing to share some of it if you give me something in return.” Saryn tried and failed to tear her eyes away from the holograms. “Name your price.” “I have tried for years without success to obtain a copy of the research notes compiled by the Mandalorian scientist Demagol during their war with the Republic three centuries ago. I’ve heard you have such a copy in your possession.” “I do, yes.” The notes had been a gift from Darth Nox for Saryn’s sixteenth birthday. She had a feeling they had not been easy to obtain. “Those notes aren’t worth my full data—that, I will not part with no matter what you offer—but I am willing to give you a copy of some of what I recorded on Oricon.” Saryn pretended to take a moment to think it over, then said, “I agree to your terms.” “Good, good.” Pherebus smiled. “I would not make this bargain with just anyone. I trust, however, that you will properly appreciate my data.” “I have no doubt that I will.” “If you extrapolate any rituals that level half the Citadel, do wait until I’m off-world to conduct them,” Pherebus said dryly. “I’ll do my best.” “Good girl. You’ll have those notes for me soon, I trust?” “I’ll send the files as soon as I return to my chambers.” “Lovely. I can’t wait to see what insights Demagol carved out of his Jedi test subjects. Which reminds me…” Pherebus gestured at the holoterminal again. The two holograms vanished and were replaced by a new image. “A special treat, since you didn’t quibble over the price.” The new image was also a brain scan, similar in some ways to the first two while very different in others. The scan showed cybernetics that were completely different from those of the Dread Guard, and the areas of the brain responsible for higher cognitive functioning were even more massively degraded. Saryn peered at it. “What’s this?” “You don’t want to know what I went through to get this,” Pherebus said softly. “This is the brain of a cyborg in the service of Darth Jadus.” Saryn inhaled sharply. “How—” “As I said, you don’t want to know.” “No, I suppose I don’t.” Saryn stared at the hologram. Force domination manifests as physical damage to the brain… It’s unlikely those people could ever have recovered. Is this what the Emperor has done to my mother? An icy chill ran down her spine and settled in her gut. I have to find a way to stop it. I can’t let this happen to her. I won’t let this happen to her. The sound of Pherebus’ voice brought her back to the moment. “…able to shield most of the soldiers, but many of the Sith refused,” Pherebus was saying. “They didn’t trust me. And they died, one by one. Except for Xyre.” Her lip curled. “I suspect a scan of her brain might not be different from these…but the Dark Council does not see things as I do.” Saryn frowned. “The Dark Council deemed Xyre fit to continue holding her sphere of influence.” “They weren’t there. They didn’t see what I…but it doesn’t matter.” Pherebus waved a hand dismissively. “Xyre is what she is, which is to say not worth my time or yours.” Saryn knew evasiveness when she saw it. “Never mind Xyre, then. What do you think of this business with Darth Angral? I understand you were present when he last stood before the Council.” “Angral is a dead man,” Pherebus said coolly. “He simply has not yet realized it.” She picked up her teacup and rotated it. “Truth be told, I pay little attention to matters of soldiers and starships, but even I know that the Republic has had ample time to recover its strength these past years. The Jedi have trained a new generation of Knights. Their lightsabers are ready to be quenched in Sith blood. Angral will be the first, but not the last.” “Do you think there will be war?” “Of course there will be war. There must always be war. It is our nature.” “Whose nature?” “Sentient life.” Pherebus peered into her teacup as if it held some insight. “You’re the seer. How do you think this will end?” “The future is always changing. Either we win, or the Republic wins. There isn’t much of a middle ground.” Or, Saryn didn’t say, the Emperor wins, and we all die. Pherebus nodded, then changed the subject to a discussion of Force arcana. Saryn itched to run back to her apartment and make the exchange of data so she could pore over Pherebus’ findings, but she knew that to depart too suddenly would cause suspicion. She had to maintain the illusion that it was all purely academic, a passing fancy, not something that she viewed as a matter of life and death. So she kept up her end of the conversation, trying her best not to fidget impatiently, until finally Pherebus seemed to lose interest and bid her farewell. “I hope your conversation was less awkward than mine,” Xalkory said when they were back out in the corridor. “It was fine. Pherebus likes me. Although, all things considered, I’m not quite certain whether that’s good or bad…” “Did you get what you came for, at least?” “I did. Even better, I believe I know what my next step should be.” “How wonderful,” Xalkory said blithely. “Is there any chance you’ll ever tell me what this is all about?” “Perhaps.” “I’ll live in hope, then.” “Don’t hope too hard. You may find yourself disappointed.” Saryn picked up her pace. “Come along. I need to get back to my apartment.” That data will be mine soon. “After that, I need to arrange a meeting with Darth Xyre.” “Xyre,” Xalkory repeated. “As in former assassin, possibly unstable, member of the Dark Council? That Darth Xyre?” “Correct.” “As far as I’m aware, Xyre isn’t generally inclined to see anyone outside of her own inner circle. She hardly ever even attends Council meetings.” “I know it’s a long shot. I intend to try anyway.” “Might I assume that this has something to do with the fact that Xyre was also involved in the Oricon campaign?” “Yes. I think Xyre knows something that Pherebus doesn’t want me to know.” “Secrets within secrets,” Xalkory muttered. “Secrets involving the Dread Masters, no less. Here I’ve been thinking you were in the most danger from Angral, but now I’m not so sure.” Saryn glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. “At least it won’t be boring.” He shook his head and smiled back. “Thank the Force for small favors.”
  13. Fifty-Five Republic Orbital Station, Ord Mantell 35 ATC As he stepped off the shuttle onto the orbital station, Rhys began to feel a distinct sense of unease. The feeling only intensified as he made his way through the station. By the time he reached the turbolift leading to the airlock where his ship was docked, unease had blossomed into palpable adrenaline. Beside him, T7-01 emitted a series of beeps. Jedi heartbeat = accelerated // Something = wrong? “I don’t know,” Rhys said. “I think the Force is trying to tell me—” The door to the turbolift opened. A human who was unmistakably Sith stood in the middle of the airlock walkway, flanked by a pair of Imperial soldiers. The three of them formed a triangle around Kira, who emanated an air of defiance despite her bound hands and bloodied face. A chill settled in Rhys’ stomach. His lightsabers seemed to jump into his hands of their own accord. Before he could make a move, however, the Sith had his own crimson blade leveled at Kira’s throat. “So, your master was here all along,” the Sith mused to her. “Well played, Padawan. Your lies convinced even Darth Angral.” Kira grinned insolently. “Why thank you.” Rhys took a breath, held it, and let it out. “I will give you one chance to surrender,” he said in a voice that sounded much calmer than how he felt. “Surrender?” The Sith laughed. “Don’t be absurd. I hold the power here, not you. You’re in no position to make demands.” “I wasn’t demanding anything. Just giving you an opportunity to resolve this peacefully.” Rhys edged closer, assessing the battlefield. He’d take out the soldiers first. One strike each, quick and clean. “If you refuse to take that opportunity…” “A threat? I’m almost impressed.” The Sith smirked. “But you won’t attack me. Not while I hold this girl’s life in the palm of my hand.” He lifted his lightsaber closer to Kira’s neck. “Sith Intelligence noticed her wandering the station and alerted my master. Darth Angral came from twenty parsecs away for a personal interrogation.” “I told him you were on Corellia,” Kira said smugly. “Suckers.” She’s still acting like her usual self, Rhys tried to reassure himself. They can’t have hurt her that badly. It’s still my fault. “The situation will be rectified soon enough now that the truth is out,” the Sith said. “Jedi, I will give you the same offer you extended me a moment ago: lay down your weapon and surrender. If you refuse, your Padawan dies. And we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” “He’s bluffing,” Kira said calmly. “He can’t kill me. Angral’s orders.” “Foolish girl,” the Sith hissed. “You should have stayed quiet and spared yourself further pain—” “First it was ‘talk or we’ll hurt you,’ now it’s ‘shut up or we’ll hurt you.’” Kira shook her head. “Make up your damn mind.” Rhys took advantage of the Sith’s distracted state to advance further. “Enough,” the Sith growled. He cracked the hilt of his lightsaber against Kira’s jaw. She gasped and fell to one knee. The Sith turned to Rhys. “I’ll never understand what drives you Jedi to throw away your lives. Is it some misguided sense of duty?” From the ground, Kira met Rhys’ eyes and mouthed a word that he interpreted as distraction. I can do that, Rhys thought. He looked at the Sith. “What drives you Sith to be so afraid of death? Is it because you understand, deep down inside, that the elevation of the self above others means that you will only leave behind as much as you put into this life, a sum total of zero—” Kira stretched out her hands and channeled a Force push that blasted the Sith off his feet. The soldiers opened fire. Kira rolled out of the way as Rhys leapt forward, deflecting their shots away from her, and dispatched them both with two neat slices. The Force whispered of danger behind him, and he turned back around just in time to face the Sith, who was advancing on him with rage in his eyes. Before Rhys could move, a series of blaster shots rang out and the Sith fell to the floor. T7-01 rolled forward, pistol attachment smoking faintly, and gave a disapproving whistle. “Thanks,” Rhys said. “I owe you one.” T7 = happy to help Rhys turned to Kira and broke the stun cuffs on her wrists with a quick swipe of the Force. “Are you all right?” “Yeah.” She waved away the hand Rhys offered and staggered to her feet. “Nice diversion, there. Who knew philosophy could be so usef—” She broke off with a hiss of pain, stumbling in midstep. Rhys all but jumped up beside her and put a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Easy,” he said anxiously. “Don’t push yourself too far.” Kira closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think…one broken rib. Maybe two. Just help me to the medbay and I can patch myself up.” Rhys began gently steering them towards the ship. T7 passed them and extended an arm to interface with the ship’s security panel, opening the hatch and lowering the boarding ramp. Another extended arm gently held Kira’s lightsaber, presumably retrieved from the dead Sith behind them. “I’m sorry,” Rhys whispered. “I should have gotten here sooner.” “Don’t be sorry,” Kira said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for. Besides, if you’d shown up earlier, you would have run into Angral, and I don’t think we’re ready for that battle yet.” “You don’t know that for certain.” Guilt crept in from the shadows and settled deep inside him. “I could have stopped him here. I could have ended all of this right now.” “Or Angral would have killed you and all of this would have been for nothing. We’re both alive and that’s what matters.” They reached the boarding ramp. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me,” Kira continued, her voice sounding strained but still wry. “I mean here I am, practically my first day on the job, and I’ve turned into some kind of—ow—distressed damsel…” “Not your fault,” Rhys said shortly. “Angral is a Sith Lord; what were you supposed to do?” “So only you’re allowed to blame yourself, huh? That doesn’t seem fair.” Kira shook her head. “Never mind. How was the Imperial listening post?” “It was full of Imperials,” Rhys said, grateful for the change in subject. “We, uh, handled it. T7 grabbed the data from their computers and we got out as fast as we could.” Just not fast enough. “Good. Because I have some real bad news.” “There’s never any other kind, is there?” Rhys muttered. “Sure doesn’t seem like it.” Kira paused at the top of the stairs leading down into the lower hold. “Angral left with an Imperial admiral to refit a battle cruiser. I think they have some kind of new weapon.” “What kind of a new weapon?” T7 = scanned Tarnis + Angral design schematics, T7 warbled from beside the holoterminal. Desolator world-killer weapon = attaches to battle cruiser “Of course it does,” Kira sighed. She looked at Rhys. “I can make it to the medbay on my own. You need to call General Var Suthra and warn him, now.” Rhys hesitated. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?” “Don’t worry about me.” “That didn’t answer my question.” “I’ll be fine. As soon as I take some pain meds.” Kira started to pick her way down the stairs. “I’ll be back in action before you know it.” Rhys tried his best to believe her as he headed for the holoterminal. Despite his best efforts, the worm of guilt gnawing at his insides refused to leave. Train and protect her as if she were your own Padawan, Satele had said. Their mission had barely begun and he’d already failed on both counts. What kind of Jedi was he if he couldn’t even manage that? Worse, he knew it was only the beginning. How many more people will suffer because of me? he wondered. How much blood and pain will be the price of victory? Rhys was a Jedi. He would give everything he had, everything he was, to save the Republic. He only wished that others would not have to do the same.
  14. Fifty-Four The Citadel, Dromund Kaas 35 ATC The sound of loud chimes from her apartment’s security system jerked Saryn Zaraine out of her deep meditation. She put a hand to her head as her bedroom spun around her, mumbling an archaic Sith profanity. Why, oh why, she wondered with groggy irritation, do people have to bother me? “Fine,” she muttered, climbing to her feet and moving over to the security monitor. “Who thinks they’re so deserving of my time that—” The monitor showed Darth Nox smiling up into the camera outside the apartment door. Ah, Saryn thought. The revelation did little to improve her mood, but at least she could take consolation in knowing that Nox would not disturb her for something that wasn’t important. Probably. She headed into the main room and opened the door. “My lord Nox,” she said in her best tone of polite deference. “To what do I owe the honor?” “Just a friendly visit, dear.” Nox’s smile held more warmth than enigma. “May we come in?” We…? Saryn glanced out into the hall. Nox’s Pureblood apprentice, Xalkory, stood a respectful distance away. Oh. I should have noticed him. I need to be more mindful of the present. “Of course,” Saryn said, stepping out of the way of the door. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” Nox strolled inside, the long skirt of her dress swirling around her as she walked. She wore a shade of blue so dark it was almost black, which made Saryn uneasy. Nox liked to wear dark colors when she was anticipating having to commit violence. Xalkory prowled in after his master like a leashed vine cat. His armor was of a traditional styling, but white rather than red or black in an extension of Nox’s deliberately non-traditional aesthetic. His face, however, was classical Sith, as harshly angular as Korriban itself with dramatic ridges set in red skin that told a tale of ancestry unmarred by human genes for many generations. Saryn had no doubt that he was a capable apprentice, but she also had no doubt that Nox liked to trot him out to impress people, like using one’s prized antique dishes for a fancy dinner party. And he is an antique, in a certain sense, Saryn reflected, since blood purity doesn’t hold the weight it once did. Nox does love her trophies, though, and he’s much prettier than her Dashade, for all they serve the same basic function… Nox’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Saryn, my dear, forgive me for imposing on you like this; I know you like to meditate at this time of day. I’m afraid this matter can’t wait, however.” “It’s quite all right,” Saryn murmured. “I wasn’t seeing anything useful, anyway. What can I do for you?” “Actually, it’s more a question of what I am going to do for you.” Nox raised an eyebrow. “Have you heard about the most recent…development…with Darth Angral?” “It’s my understanding that he’s taken his supporters and left Imperial space.” “Correct.” “So we’re to be at war, then?” Nox pursed her lips. “I don’t believe the Republic is ready to reignite full hostilities. Not yet. And without the Dark Council’s backing, Angral lacks the resources to push them over that edge, but that won’t stop him from trying.” “Do you think he’ll be able to do much damage?” “Perhaps. We’ll just have to wait and see.” Nox shook her head. “As you might imagine, Angral is quite unhappy with the Dark Council right now. While I’m fairly confident that he will focus his anger on the Republic, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility that he will attempt to strike out at the Empire in retaliation.” “Is that why you’re toting him around?” Saryn asked, gesturing to the silent Xalkory. “As a matter of fact, yes—though not for the reasons one might expect.” Nox laughed quietly. “I have no fear of Angral and his minions.” “That doesn’t mean you should get comfortable,” Saryn said. Complacency had been the downfall of many great Sith throughout history. “Oh, I’m not, rest assured. I still have much to do before I reach that point.” Nox glanced at Xalkory out of the corner of her eye. “No, I’m not ‘toting him around,’ to use your delightful turn of phrase, for my protection. I’ve brought Xalkory here for you.” Saryn stared at her. “I beg your pardon?” “Saryn, I witnessed your mother personally thrash Angral on the Council chamber floor. It was quite a fight. I doubt he’ll ever want to come within a parsec of her again—but he will not forget, and he will want revenge. A’tro is beyond his reach, but her family is not.” Nox smiled pleasantly. “Since it is in my best interests to keep my strongest ally happy, and because I am quite fond of you personally, I’m assigning Xalkory to act as your bodyguard until all of this is over.” “What?” Saryn spluttered. “But—I—you can’t—” She took a deep breath and started over. “I appreciate the gesture, my lord, but I assure you it is unnecessary. I can protect myself.” Nox gave her a solemn look. “Consider your mother, dear. She’ll be worrying about you, even if she won’t admit it. It will put her mind at ease if you have a nice strong Sith watching your back.” “What about my father?” Saryn demanded. “He’s not even a Sith. Are you sending someone to protect him as well?” “I hardly think that’s necessary. Your father is surrounded by our strongest military forces. His security is, frankly, much better than yours.” “Are you implying that I’m weak?” “Not at all. Everyone needs someone to look out for them in times like these.” “Who looks out for you, then?” Saryn asked obstinately. “Almost everyone,” Nox amended. “I’m special.” Saryn scowled. “How am I supposed to do my research with him breathing down my neck?” “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine. He could even help. He’s quite bright, you know. And if nothing else, he can do your heavy lifting.” “If I wanted a research assistant, I’d have one,” Saryn snapped. “My projects are secret for a reason. I can’t just—” “Why, Saryn,” Nox murmured, “you’re not suggesting that my apprentice is untrustworthy, are you? Because if you were, that would hurt my feelings.” “Respectfully, my lord, I don’t believe you have any feelings,” Saryn said waspishly. Nox sighed wistfully. “You’re quite right, of course. Still, feelings or lack thereof aside, you are taking him. You have no choice in this matter.” Saryn gritted her teeth. “Fine.” Nox beamed. “It won’t be as bad as all that. You’ll see. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m fashionably late for a meeting with Moff Pyron.” She gave an artful wave and departed. Saryn tried very hard not to sigh. “Very well then,” she said coolly, turning towards Xalkory. “It seems we’re stuck with each other for the time being.” Due to his status as Nox’s apprentice, they had seen one another often enough over the past seven years, but this was the first time the two of them had actually been alone in a room together. They had not had a conversation since their initial meeting on Korriban, and Saryn had never had any interest in changing that; Xalkory hardly seemed the sort of intellectual with whom she normally preferred to associate. “Indeed.” He gave a polite bow that did nothing to mollify her indignation. “I’m at your service.” “So you are. Whether I want you or not.” Saryn managed to look down her nose at him even though he was much taller than her sixty-five inches. “Don’t think you can impress me.” “No?” One brow-ridge went up. “Most beings find me very impressive.” Ugh. Nox would encourage an arrogant streak. She looked him up and down. “I’m sure they do. I, however, still remember when you came stumbling in after your final trial on Korriban looking like something that had been chewed up and spat out. And believe me, I am more than capable of reducing you to that state again if you give me a reason.” “Lady Saryn, I am here to protect you,” Xalkory said mildly. “There is no need for threats.” “Protect me,” Saryn scoffed. “What a joke. You, Nox, my mother—you all see me as a helpless little girl.” “I won’t speak for my master, but I certainly don’t—” “I wasn’t finished!” Saryn seethed. She knew she was going too far, that her temper was rapidly slipping beyond the bounds of her control, but she was past caring. “I have walked the halls of the ancients whose unholy geometry drove lesser minds mad and emerged unscathed. I have summoned Sithspawn from the dark ether using rituals of my own invention. I have murdered and schemed like a Sith twice my age and I have done so without flinching. I am more than capable of seeing to my own safety without having you latched onto me like a misbegotten barnacle!” “I’d prefer to think of myself as more of an orbalisk than a barnacle,” Xalkory said lightly. “Sure, I’ll be attached to you, and it might be uncomfortable, but in the end, you may actually benefit from it.” “Have you always been this glib, or did you pick it up from Nox?” “Oh, a little of both, I think. Besides,” he added, his tone losing its flippancy, “what exactly do you expect me to do? I’ve been given a direct order by my master, and I’m sure you know that defying her is…unhealthy.” “Don’t be ridiculous. Nox would never hurt you. You’re like a son to her.” “Be that as it may, I won’t risk it. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.” “Wonderful,” Saryn muttered. “Just wonderful. I suppose Nox expects me to keep you at my side at all hours of the day and night?” Xalkory nodded. “Within reason, of course. I won’t invade your privacy.” “How courteous.” Saryn sighed. “The inconvenience of this situation continues to grow. Did Nox even consider the logistics before dumping you in my lap? I’m neither prepared nor equipped to feed and house two people in this apartment!” “Rest assured that I am very low maintenance.” A hint of a smile passed over his face. “Also, I can cook, if that changes your feelings on the matter.” Saryn arched a brow—though half human, she still had ridges instead of eyebrows—and tried not to roll her eyes at the absurdity of it all. “A bodyguard who doubles as a personal chef. It must be my lucky day.” “All right, look,” Xalkory said. For the first time since the conversation began, he sounded almost irritated. “I know you aren’t happy about this. I understand. But getting testy with me will not make me go away. Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but can we not at least attempt to be civil towards one another? It will make this entire business much easier.” “By assigning you here, your master has insulted my abilities and turned my routine upside down,” Saryn said tightly. “I think I am justified in being, as you put it, testy.” “Yes, but that’s not my fault, is it?” Xalkory waved a hand around. “Darth Angral is out there right now engaging in treasonous actions. I’d love to be hunting down his supporters, but instead I’m here. Because Nox wants me to be here, and so I am. How either of us feels about it doesn’t matter. Until this is over, we’re stuck with each other.” He was right, and she knew it. She cringed inwardly as she imagined the reprimand she would get from her mother if A’tro knew she had allowed her control over her temper to lapse in such a fashion. Peace was a lie, as the Sith Code said, but passion was also a lie. True strength in the dark side came from feeling nothing at all. Despite her best efforts, Saryn was still a ways from such mastery. She would have to try harder. “Very well,” she said curtly. “I suppose we both have no choice but to make the best of this arrangement. I will attempt to refrain from taking it out on you.” “I appreciate your graciousness in this matter.” Xalkory punctuated the statement with a polite bow. “Yes, well…anyway.” Saryn shook her head. “I suggest for the time being you make yourself comfortable. I must return to my meditations, which will occupy me for the next several hours.” “Pardon me for asking,” Xalkory said hesitantly, “but since you mention it, and I’ve always been a bit curious…are the rumors true? Are you really a seer?” “Yes.” Saryn frowned. “What, did you think it was propaganda or something?” “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “After all, getting Force visions every now and then is one thing, but true foresight is very rare, isn’t it?” “Rare and decidedly less convenient than one might imagine.” Saryn clasped her hands behind her back and settled into lecture mode. “Since you’ll be spending quite a bit of time with me, I may as well explain to you how my ‘gift’ works.” “You don’t have to—” “It’s no trouble, really.” Saryn took a deep breath. “Imagine the Force is an ocean. Most Force-sensitives are floating on the surface. They can dip their hands down into the water and feel its power, but it takes effort to fully immerse themselves. Forceblinds ride the ocean too, for all things are connected to the Force, but they’re in boats. They can’t feel the touch of the water.” Xalkory nodded slowly. “Some Force-sensitives, however, have a different kind of connection. They float deeper in the water, almost completely beneath the surface at all times. These are the truly powerful Sith and Jedi. There are an even rarer few, however, who are capable of opening their eyes underwater—and seeing the whole of the ocean laid out before them.” “That’s you?” “That’s me. Essentially, the Force grants me visions at random. I’ve learned to induce the visions through deep meditation—which is what I was doing when someone interrupted me—” Xalkory looked slightly abashed. “—but I still have no control over what exactly I see,” Saryn continued. “Furthermore, the future is not set; it is constantly being defined and redefined by the actions of every single being in the galaxy. So in addition to not being able to look for specifics, I have no idea if what I see is actually going to happen.” She put her hands on her hips. “Any questions?” Xalkory shrugged one shoulder. “Makes me glad I know how to swim.” “That’s really not what you were meant to take away from that.” Another shrug. “I’m just saying. An ocean, like the Force, is as capable of causing death as it is of sustaining life. Without the proper skills, you’ll drown.” “A deeper conclusion than I would have expected,” Saryn admitted. Maybe he’ll be capable of some interesting conversation after all… One corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Was that a pun?” …then again. “Never mind that,” Saryn said quickly. “The point is that the more time I spend meditating, the more fragments of possible futures I’ll see, and the more likely it is that I’ll find something useful.” “Far be it from me to keep you from it, then.” “Quite,” Saryn said stiffly. “You can just…keep yourself busy, I suppose. Just don’t touch my books. They’re antiques.” “I wouldn’t dream of it.” “Good.” She walked out of the room without giving him a chance to say anything else. In her bedroom, she settled herself on the floor, closed her eyes, and steadied her breathing, trying to quiet her racing mind. It was more difficult than usual. She could sense Xalkory’s presence in the other room, and anxious fretting that he might ignore her orders and touch her precious books kept distracting her from her contemplative state. Finally, however, her mind tipped over the edge. Her awareness of the physical world faded and the images began, fragments of uncertain destiny parading before her mind’s eye. Imperial warships burned in the depths of space, outmaneuvered and cut apart by a seemingly infinite fleet of unfamiliar vessels. Fire turned to mist that swirled around the imposing figure of a Sith Lord, light glinting off a mask that was eerily blank. The masked Sith faded away and she saw a shrouded figure seated upon a great throne. A man in Jedi robes emerged from the shadows and moved to strike at the enthroned figure, but Saryn’s mother appeared between them and caught the blow instead. She fell silently into the darkness. The visions subsided. Saryn regained awareness of her body to discover that a dull ache had begun behind her eyes. She sighed wearily and began massaging her temples. Variations of that last image had been popping up in her visions over and over again for the past month. Sometimes, as she had just seen, the Jedi struck down A’tro. Other times A’tro killed the Jedi. And on one occasion, she had seen the figure on the throne devour them both. Saryn had never tried to change anything before. She was not sure that she could. But perhaps if nothing else, she could still save her mother. Enough meditating for today, she decided. I have work to do.
  15. Thank you, Kitar I'm glad to be working on this again. Fifty-Three Aboard Defender-class starship 35 ATC Hyperspace was a psychedelic blur outside the viewport. Rhys watched it for a few moments, entranced by the pulsating glow, then shook his head and turned to face the other way. He couldn’t hide on the bridge forever, no matter how much he might want to. He made a superficial adjustment to the drape of his robe and headed for the main cabin. The vessel was new, the latest iteration on the iconic Defender-class design that the Jedi had been using for decades, and to Rhys’ admittedly unknowledgeable eye it looked quite impressive. The fact that he had been entrusted with such an advanced—and surely expensive—piece of hardware only drove home the extent of the responsibilities that now rested upon his shoulders. He knew that the ship was a sign of how much faith Var Suthra and Satele had in his ability to succeed, but that did little to alleviate his worries. Yes, he had saved Coruscant, but he was still painfully inexperienced. Even if he managed to accomplish his mission and stop Angral, it was unlikely that he could do so without making any mistakes. How many lives would those mistakes cost? There is no emotion, Rhys reminded himself. There is peace. The Jedi Code didn’t make him feel better, but repeating it gave his mind something to focus on as he entered the ship’s largest room, a circular chamber dominated by a holoterminal at its center. On the far side of the room was a semicircle of seating around a small table. Kira was all but lounging at one end of the seating in a display of nonchalance that Rhys was starting to realize was her default mode. “Hi,” Kira said, moving her feet from the table to the floor. “Nice ship, isn’t it?” “It certainly seems capable.” Rhys circumnavigated the holoterminal and tentatively took a seat at the end of the semicircle opposite Kira. “It’s fast, it’s shiny, it’s got that new ship smell…” Kira inhaled with exaggerated satisfaction. “Mmm. Anyway. What’s up?” “Well, I…thought we should talk.” Rhys folded his hands together in his lap as his fingers tried of their own accord to start fidgeting. “Master Satele has assigned us together for this mission, and I wanted to talk about how that should work.” Kira nodded. “Right. I’m your Padawan now, basically.” “And you’re all right with that?” One of Kira’s eyebrows went up. “Why wouldn’t I be? Angral has to be stopped, and I want to help however I can. Also, technically speaking, I volunteered for this. Satele just gave the go-ahead.” “I know,” Rhys said, feeling more awkward by the second. “I just wanted to make sure that you know what you’re getting yourself into.” “I do, actually. Better than you might think.” For the first time since Rhys had met her, Kira’s demeanor was utterly serious. “I may only be a Padawan, but I’ve been around the galaxy a few times. I know what’s what. And if you think that being my master means that you have to coddle me, or protect me, I’d like to put an end to that idea right now.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—I’m sorry.” Rhys took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You are more than capable of protecting yourself. You proved that on Coruscant. I didn’t mean to give the impression that I thought otherwise. But for all intents and purposes, you are my Padawan now, and that means you’re my responsibility. I wanted to be sure that you were comfortable with that, and with me.” “If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.” “Okay. That’s good.” Rhys took another deep breath and tried to resist the urge to apologize again. “I know we don’t really know each other very well, but I think we made a good team on Coruscant and I hope we can continue that trend in the future.” Kira’s face softened, and she smiled. “I’m sure we will. You keep calling the shots and I’ll follow your lead, Master.” Rhys winced involuntarily. The title felt uncomfortable, as if he were a picture someone was trying to shove into the wrong size frame. Kira’s eyebrow crept back up her forehead. “Everything okay?” “Yes, I suppose so.” Rhys sighed. “Well, yes and no. Do you think you could—I know you’re technically my Padawan now, but I would really feel better about this if you didn’t call me Master. It just doesn’t feel right. It’s not me.” “It is, though,” Kira pointed out. “You’re a Knight. You’re going to have to get used to the title, especially from non-Jedi.” “I’ve only been a Knight for a few weeks. I had what must have been the galaxy’s shortest Padawanship…” Rhys ran a hand through his hair. “This has all happened so fast.” “Hey, if it makes you feel better for me to not call you Master, then I won’t. I’ve never been big on authority figures, anyway.” Kira smiled self-deprecatingly. “Thank you,” Rhys said with feeling. “I don’t want this to be a dictatorship. You have an opinion on something, you tell me.” Kira’s smile widened into a grin. “You may come to regret that decision.” “I’m not allergic to sarcasm,” Rhys said lightly. “And the fact is, I’m horribly inexperienced. I need all the help I can get.” “Inexperienced or not, you still managed to save Tython and Coruscant practically single-handed. I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit.” “I got lucky,” Rhys muttered. Kira shook a finger at him. “Any Jedi worth their stuff will tell you there’s no such thing as luck. You’ve got the Force on your side—and like it or not, you’re kind of a hero, now. Sorry.” “Am I so obviously uncomfortable with all of this?” “Fairly obviously, yes.” Kira leaned towards him. “Listen. The fact that you don’t want to be in this position is exactly what has me convinced that you’re where you should be. Humility is a key Jedi trait, or so Master Kiwiiks always wound up reminding me. You’re going to be fine.” “Thanks,” Rhys mumbled, feeling his face flush. “Stars, this conversation was not meant to turn into you having to reassure me about my leadership abilities. I’m so sorry.” “Don’t worry about it,” Kira said smoothly. “Like I said, a little doubt is healthy.” In spite of himself, Rhys started to feel oddly reassured. “Thank you. I mean it.” Kira shrugged one shoulder. “I always figured if the Jedi kicked me out for having too much fun, I could make a good living as a motivational speaker.” Rhys looked at her—really looked at her, with both his eyes and the Force—and had the sense of standing on the edge of a very deep pool. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Jedi quite like you. Not that that’s a bad thing.” “I’m, uh…a bit of an unusual case,” Kira murmured. “Let’s just say I came into the Order a bit later than usual and leave it at that. Of course, so did you, if what I’ve heard is true?” Rhys nodded. “Master Shariana Dasu found me when I was sixteen. But…” He hesitated. We’re going to be working together. She should know. “I don’t actually remember anything before that, so my life effectively begins with the Jedi.” Kira frowned. “You’re going to have to elaborate on that one.” “I’m from a mining colony in the Outer Rim,” Rhys explained. “Four years ago, it was destroyed in an industrial accident. I wouldn’t have survived if Master Shariana and her Padawan hadn’t arrived on the scene when they did. But, as a side-effect of my injuries, I’ve effectively lost my entire life before that point. My earliest memory is waking up on Master Shariana’s ship. Which means there are probably things about the galaxy that I used to know, that I should know, but I might not know anymore, so I might need you to fill in some gaps for me from time to time.” “Those must have been some serious injuries if you don’t remember anything at all.” Kira sounded concerned. “A combination of blunt force trauma to the head and oxygen deprivation, or so I’m told. But I’m fine now,” Rhys added hastily. “Master Shariana is one of the Jedi’s greatest healers, and thanks to her I’m good as new.” “Except for your memories.” “Except for those, yes.” Rhys sighed. “Please don’t worry about me. You’ve seen for yourself, I’m perfectly functional.” “If you say so, then I believe you,” Kira said, although she did not seem entirely convinced. “I’m glad someone finally does,” Rhys muttered. Silence ensued. Kira drummed her fingers on the empty seat next to her. Rhys studied the backs of his gloves, which had suddenly become very interesting. “I think I’ll—” Kira began abruptly. “I’m going to—” Rhys started at the same time. They both stopped and looked at each other. The bubble of tension that had been rapidly condensing around them broke, and Rhys smiled. “I’m going to go check in on T7,” he said. “Sounds good.” Kira stood up. “I’m going to scope out the crew quarters, maybe take a na—I mean, uh, meditate.” Rhys’ smile widened. “You do that, Padawan.” “Okay, hold on.” Kira put her hands on her hips. “If I can’t call you Master, you can’t call me Padawan. It’s not fair.” “I was just teasing, Kira,” Rhys murmured contritely. “That’s better.” Rhys laughed softly, realizing as he did that he could not remember the last time he’d done so. “In all seriousness, I’m glad you’re here. I think this partnership is going to work out well.” “Me too.” Kira grinned at him. “Let’s go save the galaxy.”
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