If there's something strange

In the ancient tomb

Who you gonna call

Ghostbusters

If there's something weird

And it don't look good

Who you gonna call

Ghostbusters

I ain't afraid of no ghosts

I ain't afraid of no ghosts

If you're seeing things

Running through your head

Who can you call

Ghostbusters

An invisible man

Sleeping in your bed

Who you gonna call

Ghostbusters

I ain't afraid of no ghosts

I ain't afraid of no ghosts

Who you gonna call

Ghostbusters

If you're all alone

Pick up the phone

And call

Ghostbusters

I ain't afraid of no ghost

I hear it likes the girls

I ain't afraid of no ghost

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

If you've had a dose of a

Freaky ghost baby

You better call

Ghostbusters

Lemme tell ya something

Bustin' makes me feel good

I ain't afraid of no ghost

I ain't afraid of no ghost

Don't get caught alone no no

Ghostbusters

When they come through your door

Unless you just want some more

I think you better call

Ghostbusters

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

I think you better call

Ghostbusters

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

I can't hear you

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

Louder

Ghostbusters

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

Who can ya call

Ghostbusters

Who ya gonna call

Ghostbusters

In the shower, Tovenar was having the concert of his life, and nothing could shake his good mood, completely oblivious to the pain he caused his crew.

Talos was intrigued by his lord’s singing voice, higher than expected but not too high.

Ashara heard nothing because she put in earphones the second her lover got up to shower.

Xalek stomped off to find something to kill.

Andronikus nodded in approval at his lord’s taste in music, but died a little inside with each off-key verse.

Khem Val groaned in disgust, Tulak Hord sang better and had more originality.

This floated in my head for a while, forgive my poor sense of humor.

The Scout Regalia, a phantom class ship under the ownership of former cipher agent 9, also known as Agent Dilaine, was just drifting through space, with no clear destination. Inside the ship, namely the captain’s quarters, the door was shut and locked, with sounds of slams, bangs and orchestra music emanating from within. Inside the room Blayk was busy at work, wearing a grease stained white t-shirt or rather a once white but now entirely grease stained t-shirt and grey sweatpants and no-one was going to know what he was doing or what he was wearing. (image is everything) His tools were strewn about the room, and a low density smoke cloud hung in the air for a second and was then sucked up by the air regulator and ejected out into space. A small ornate object was being constructed in the agent’s hands, but for anyone watching it would be next to impossible to tell what it was.

After an hour of symphony’s and more constructive noises, the object was complete. A satisfied cypher leaned back in his desk chair, turned off the music and yawned, stretching his arms (they too were covered in grease) a bit. After cracking his neck a few times the agent leaned over the object and pressed a button on the top of it. The object came to life with a series of happy chirps and began rotating and folding itself out. After about 2 minutes the object was done moving, and the once small unidentifiable spherical object was now a scale model of an imperial assault droid, but with a friendly black and green paint job, even the eye lights that were in the real version a menacing red were a friendly blue.

The cypher smiled and stood up. Offering his hand to the the small robot, he patiently waited for it to stiffly climb onto his hand and gently carried it out of the room, checking that the coast was clear just in case. Walking calmly and silently as to not wake anyone up he went to the cargo hold and locked it behind him. Inside the cargo hold was a crate with many other spherical objects that were almost similar in shape to what the little droid in his hand was, but all with different colored lights and paint jobs, as well as chassis. He whispered “Be quiet while i prepare you and your siblings for transport, okay?...” He did not see Dr. Lokin step out of the shadows and stare at him while he was talking. At least until the old fixer cleared his throat. Blayk froze, his eyes resembling a young nerf’s caught in headlights.

“Working on a late project Cypher?” Dr. Lokin smirked knowingly. “Perhaps you’d like to share what you’re doing or i could find out myself.” Blayk could only look at the old fixer in horror, even if he tried to speak his voice would simply catch in his throat. Time to do what he did best, fake a malfunction in his limbs. And so he did, collapsing on the floor trying look as uncontrolled as possible. The little droid let out an unhappy beep as his creator fell. Lokin’s smirk faded as he saw his friend collapse on the ground. He moved quickly to his friend’s side. “What’s wrong Cypher? Did your limbs malfunction again?” The smirk returned to the doctor’s face somewhat “Although these malfunctions seem to happen whenever you don’t want to talk about something.”

Irritation flooded Blayk’s mind as Lokin shattered his cover. Rage filled his voice, causing him to speak louder than he should’ve. “Alright, fine! You caught me, i was working on these robots to send to a secret location that you have no business knowing. Just know that these little creations are going to be put to good use!” A clattering of noises sounded as the rest of the crew on the ship rushed to the cargo bay to see what was going on. (Minus Kalyo as she was sleeping through this noise and Scorpio as she was off doing whatever Scorpio does) They arrived in time to see their leader rush out of the cargo bay carrying a heavy metal crate, as well as a little robot clinging to Blayk’s shoulder desperately. Confused they went into the cargo bay to find Dr. Lokin turning over a small spherical object in his hands. As they stared expectantly at him, the doctor pushed a button on the sphere and it whirred to life. In the doctor’s hand was a scale model of a BBA (bounty broker’s association) hunter droid. The major difference was that the droid was blue and green instead of steel and orange. Lokin’s face began smirking even more if it were possible. “It seems that our dear leader has been creating these little things for some reason, perhaps even a sinister reason.”

Vector only smiled at that. “He didn’t tell you then? he told us.” Temple looked alarmed. “When did he tell us? What did he tell us?” Vector waited patiently for a second until Temple understood what he meant. “Oh, he told you. Why couldn’t you just this once use first person pronouns? It would save the rest of us a whole lot of time.

A knowing smile formed on Vector’s face for a second then quickly returned to neutral mode. “It is not our place to tell, if you want to know, we suggest asking him.”

2 days later Blayk had only come out of his room to take his ship on route to Nar Shaddaa. The crew (Temple and Lokin) decided to tail Blayk as he did whatever he was doing on Nar Shaddaa. As they tailed him they watched him from afar, and in disguise of course. Blayk entered the slums and they followed. The trail ended in a shantytown with their quarry no-where to be found. There was however in the center of the shantytown a gathering of children, and as they got closer they could see the children walking away from the crowd in possession of the beautifully hand-crafted hand-painted spheres. Standing in the center of the crowd was their quarry, smiling and handing out the spheres to the children.

Both of them got tapped on the shoulder and turned. Vector was standing there with his ever neutral face, but standing in a way to suggest that he was amused. Blayk looked Vector’s way and saw them. His grey eyes flashed in such a way they could tell what he was thinking. “dont you tell a soul or i will unleash a whole lot of things worse than these childen’s toys.” Lokin and Temple quickly departed, giving each looks of promise to never speak of this.

Blayk is in fact a big softie, and his grumpy demeanor never shows in front of children. His intelligence file doesn’t have much of an explanation for this other than the fact that he spent his formative years on Nar Shaddaa. Beyond that even the files Lokin found didn’t say much beyond his military and intelligence careers.

Blayk doesn't like people knowing his past or that he likes giving toys to children for two reasons A) he doesn't trust Intelligence to not recondition him in case they found out. And B) the only member of the crew he trusts is Vector, of whom Blayk has a brotherly relationship.

Blayk also uses these moments to teach Vector in the ways of subtlety and observation.

I never expected to die, hell I never even thought about what my death would mean. Yet it’s happened, and i couldn’t keep my promises. I was drifting through the void, not knowing how exactly I died, when I felt a powerful tug of force, something entropic, something blue. It’s funny, as I was being pulled I could feel my life strengthening, more connected, and yet still so distant from those I left behind.

Some time later I became aware that I was on a familiar ship, but at the same time it was distant. I turned, but it was a struggle to do so, like moving through water while being force pushed backwards. And then I saw him, my old friend, ever so scarred and ever so kind. He was concentrating, I could tell that much, but I couldn’t hear anything. Force gathers around him and then a blast of golden light gently wafts from his hands and into me. Sensation returns, but I feel no need to breathe. I finally understood what happened, I had died. Simple as that, when those words should have brought me to tears, but with a sad clarity I realized that I couldn’t cry. A surge of emotion brings up the memory. Marr is dead, Blayk and I are the only ones left standing. Yet Vitiate only smiles, he offers us a place by his side, if we only knelt before him. Both of us stand defiantly, but that doesn’t keep Vitiate from reacting. “KNEEL!” he had shouted and I could feel it press in my mind, I wanted to obey, but Blayk simply stared into Vitiate’s eyes, a storm brewing in his mind. Vitiate turns away, and signals for Arcann to do it. Instead Arcann frees us, telling us to strike down his father. A fierce duel ensues, and Blayk stands ready, his blaster trained on Vitiate, he doesn’t see the danger. As Vitiate unleashes a blast of energy at Arcann and Blayk I leap into it, taking the brunt of it, and at the same time send an obliterating blast of golden force at Vitiate, striking him down. I barely have a moment to mumble to myself “sorry sis.” My body is then obliterated, and the memory ends.

My spirit collapses and Ro grabs onto me and pulls me up. “I’m sorry, but time is short, your spirit is fading here, and it won’t be long until you return to the void Demron. Kyryana is already on her way, and she’s bringing the rest of the crew.” Ro receives a signal from his holocommunicator and then turns and nods to Talos, who then opened up the doors of the ship.

After a infinite second with my spirit heart pounding in my chest my little sister and my crew walk into Ro’s common area. Upon seeing me Kyryana, Vette and Jaesa look upset, their eyes beginning to water. Kyryana is the first to step forward and with the tears now running down her face, the cybernetics that adorned her face were getting all wet, but her mouth held a smile that seemed impossibly big. “Even in death you still have that tattoo over your mouth brother, you always did love that thing. I just wish that we had more time, but I do know this, you don’t have to worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

I hang my head sadly and sobs wrack my voice even if the tears wouldn’t come “I failed you again, how can you be alright with that? I failed when that #@#$@&* tore up your face and now I failed again, and this time I won’t be there to protect you. I broke my promise Kyrie. Not to mention that I won’t be there with Vette, and Jaesa, I failed them too. I failed us all.”

Ro cleared his throat “Ahem, I hate to interupt, well no, actually I love to. Regardless I’m going to say this as candidly as I can, you haven’t failed her yet, but to do this thing that I’ll explain in a bit will give you the chance to protect her, even in death, but it will mean you have to sacrifice your freedom of movement in the current state of mortality that you are in. You can protect you sister and still be around for her, with the ritual I told Kyryana about on her way here. I can bind you to her so that she becomes more powerful and is even protected from death, but it means you are trapped in her mind, unable to leave her side, unable to contact anyone else, until your essence is consumed. I don’t offer this choice lightly, I even promised myself to never do this again, but damnit I have to help you, I never did get to pay you back from saving my life all those years ago. If you accept, it is time to say goodbye to all but your sister.”

“There is no choice Ro, do it, I’ll do it.”

“Very well, say goodbye to you crew, but any messages for anyone else can be handled by your sister.” Everyone left to a different room, leaving Quinn behind first.

I turned to him. “Goodbye Quinn, you’re probably going to blame yourself for this, don’t. Don’t you dare! My sister will need you, now more than ever. If you don’t help her do this I swear to my honor that i’ll somehow return from being bound to kick your sorry ***, you understand me?!”

“Yes my lord, goodbye Demron, I’m sorry I betrayed you all those years ago, i regret it now, but now, I just wish you luck.” Quinn bowed and left, and sent Jaesa out.

I smiled at her reassuringly. “It seems I will know longer be training you padawan, and for that I’m truly sorry, and don’t fret, but take care of my sister will you, and if Quinn doesn’t treat her to my specifications, kick his *** for me.”

“Goodbye Master, and don’t worry, I will, I promise” Jaesa bowed, tearing up a little and left the room.

Broonmark entered. “Aw come on Brew, you don’t need my last message do you, just go Rip the “Eternal Empire” to shreds for me.” Broonmark snapped to attention, saluted and left making happy noises. That was unusual, but it left me smiling broadly.

Pierce entered and he was smiling a bit, although it could have been a scowl.”Ah Pierce, you were a damn fine soldier, a credit to the empire. Go blow up some Eternal monuments for me will you, and if Quinn harms my little sister and Jaesa fails to notice somehow or doesn’t kick his *** properly, do make him regret it. Now go get my wife out here ya big son of a gun.” Pierce scowl (it was definitely a scowl) turned into a huge ****-eating grin.

“Yes m’lord. Your will be done and it’s been a pleasure serving you. Good luck in your future deathly endeavors.” Pierce saluted and walked out.

It seemed like an eternity before Vette walked out. She was as beautiful the day I first truly noticed how I felt about her. The grin that covered my face vanished as she walked in, her eyes red from crying. “Vette love, I’m sorry I died, if I hadn’t, then I don’t think Blayk would have survived, and I owed him too many credits to pay him back.” As I grinned Vette’s eyes turned to an angry glint of humor. I continued, laughter infecting my voice. “It’s unfortunate that I can’t pay him back now can I?” my voice returned to a sad tone. “I wish I could stay, but you know I can’t, I have to protect my little sister, it's my responsibility.” Humor returned to my eyes but not my voice. “I’d kiss you right now, to make this goodbye official, but I can’t. I’ll always love you Vette, but know that you don’t have to stay alone, I’ll understand, okay love?.” I laugh, but it’s hollow and tears still won’t come.

“Never, one day if the afterlife is real, we’ll be together again. In the meantime I’ll mess with Quinn and the Eternal Empire. I love you, and I understand that you have to do this.” She starts crying, and in response I walk over and put my fingers over her head as if to give a reassuring touch but then I pull back realizing it was futile.

“Now it’s time for me to go love.” The rest of the crew and Cecton filed in. They all had determined looks in their eyes. I turn to Ro “I guess this is goodbye my old friend. Your debt has long been paid, now it seems I owe you. Sorry you can’t collect, but this is how it has to be. Now do lets this.”

My little sister, her eyes full of determination, wasn’t crying anymore, no she was happy. After a moment of concentration a dark energy settles over her. “Will you offer your power spirit of my brother? So that you can protect me even in death?”

“Damn right I will.”

“Then the pact will be sealed with blood.” Kyryana raises her vibrosword and gives her hand a small cut, enough to get a small amount of blood falling to the ground. I focus on the blood and feel the rest of the world slipping away, with nothing but my sister remaining. Eventually as even she fades I find myself standing before our childhood home on Dromund Kaas, and for the first time in this whole debacle I felt truly at peace.

I don’t know why I wanted to write this, but I couldn’t get it out of my head. Apparently I can only write so many happy stories a year. I hope this isn’t too clunky but it's all my brain can do to write this thing. I also hope I got the companions personalities right, it's not easy at all to figure it out.

After the fall of Revan on Yavin IV, the search for Vitiate took the forefront in Jasin's life. He worked tirelessly to track down the former Sith Emperor and stop him before he could commit another atrocity. Meanwhile, Prudii began shoring up the Republic's military forces for any eventuality. Gareb went back to the Jedi Temple on Tython, exhausted from a life of combat. Dankin began using his underworld contacts to track down Vitiate, while also skimming a profit by stealing Imperial weapons for Republic purposes.

Methic, no longer the Emperor's Wrath, also began searching for Vitiate. Tran'thar, also known as Darth Nox, shored up his holdings on the Dark Council, consolidating his rule. Dha became more and more popular as a bounty hunter, also taking the role of Darth Marr's liaison with the Empire and the underworld. He took Mako and the rest of his clan back to Mandalore to settle them in as Mako began raising their daughter. Merok, no longer an official agent for the Republic and not enthusiastic about the Empire's chances, started looking for a way to do what he could for the betterment of the galaxy.

Jasin and Methic were present on Ziost during Vitiate's desolation. They both managed to escape the destruction, and renewed their determination to hunt down the former Emperor at any cost. Both joined Darth Marr's task force to hunt down Vitiate. Jasin contacted his allies, and Gareb, Dankin, and Prudii and Havoc Squad joined them. Methic also convinced Dha, Nox, and Merok to join.

When the Zakuul Empire's attack took place, all their crews managed to escape, but the eight of them were trapped aboard Marr's warship. Jasin and Marr fought together while the others tried to make it to the escape pods. While the crew of the ship managed to escape, the seven did not. All of them were captured by the Zakuulians.

Taken aboard Emperor Valkorian's space station, Methic, Jasin, and Marr all instantly realized that Valkorian was Vitiate. Jasin and Marr were taken before Valkorian, while Methic and the others were held in the station's prison block...

Methic knew the instant he was thrown into the cell that the rest of his life was going to be measured in hours, not years. He sensed Vitiate–knew that Valkorian, for whoever he said he was, was actually the former Sith Emperor. He didn't know how, but he knew it was the truth. And he thought that from the looks on their faces, Gareb and Nox were figuring it out, too.

Jasin had to have known. And the Emperor saw Jasin as his biggest rival. He and Marr were being taken up there to be executed, and Methic would no doubt be next.

Methic's cell was right next to Prudii's on the left, Gareb's on the right, and across from Nox's. Dha and Dankin were to either side of Nox, and Merok was next to Gareb. Methic could speak to Prudii and Gareb, and maybe Nox, without raising his voice.

"We need to leave," Methic said.

"Vitiate is here...isn't he?" Gareb asked.

"Yes."

Prudii jerked up in his seat. "Oh. Are you serious?"

"Yes," Methic said. "He's...he is Valkorian. I don't know how he did it, but he did. Somehow, he's built a whole new Empire out here and we never knew."

"Kark! So what do we do?"

"We have to escape," Gareb said. "Jasin's in trouble, and..."

"Even if we could get to Jasin," Methic said, "we'd never be able to help him. He and Marr are in the center of it all, surrounded by dozens or hundreds of guards, not to mention Vitiate...or Valkorian, or whoever he is...himself. He's my brother, Gareb, but...we can't save him."

Gareb slammed his fists against his bed. "We can't just leave him!"

"The rest of the galaxy needs to know about this thread. We have to escape."

"That's why we sent Havoc and the others back," Prudii said. "So they could warn the galaxy."

Nox leaned forward. "I don't know about the rest of you, but if we do escape I'm going straight back to the Empire and not stopping until I have gathered my sphere of influence and secured it."

"This is beyond your petty little sphere, Nox!" Methic growled. "This is about the entire galaxy."

Nox shrugged. "The galaxy doesn't matter to me. Just what's mine."

Methic shook his head in disgust. Leaning forward, he could just see Dha, Dankin, and Merok, and he knew that they all could understand at least a little of what was going on.

"We escape," Prudii said. "We get down to Zakuul or some other planet nearby, and we start fighting this Zakuulian Empire from the inside."

Methic closed his eyes, thought briefly of Vette. She might think he was dead. She might never find him. But...this was what he had to do. I love you, Vette.

"Let's do it," Gareb said.

The next time a guard came by, Gareb mind-tricked him in to coming closer. As soon as he did, Methic grabbed him in a Force choke and slammed him into the cell door. Gareb grabbed the key off his belt and unlocked the door. Then, he ran around and opened the rest of their cell doors.

Grimly, the seven of them made for the hangar. They gathered their weapons and strode down the corridor as quickly as they could. With Vitiate/Valkorian distracted with Jasin and Marr, maybe they could get out of here before security was alerted.

They did reach the hangar quickly, and began loading into the shuttle. Only Nox hesitated. As soon as Dha saw that, he leveled his blaster pistol at Nox's head.

"Get in the shuttle," he said.

"It's futile," Nox growled. "I'd rather save my own skin than die for something I don't even believe in."

"You don't have that choice," Methic said. "The best chance you've got for seeing your power base survive is to come with us and help us fight."

Grimly, Nox nodded. "Fine. But you watch your back. All of you. Because when this is all over...I'm going to kill you."

They piled into the shuttle and began prepping for takeoff. Gareb spared one last glance back out the ramp. Methic saw Jasin's lightsaber clipped to his belt.

"I'm sorry, Jasin," Gareb said.

Then the shuttle was off...and they were headed down to Zakuul.

My eyes stung as we drove ever deeper into the desert. Yeah, the goggles Sharack Breev’s gave me helped a lot, but it wasn’t sand in my eyes that made them hurt. I’ve been up since dawn on this world, and we’ve been running through the heat all day. If Sharack hadn’t let me borrow her speeder, the kid and I wouldn’t have even made it to outpost Zaroshe.

Stars, I can’t wait to get back to the ship and get some shut-eye. I’d turn us around right now if I thought I could make the trip back without hitting a canyon wall somewhere. Even if I could, it wouldn’t matter. The kid won’t go until we meet with the mystery padawan’s teacher. I know better than to hope it doesn’t come down to a fight, especially with the kid. Sure, he usually listens to me, but when there’s Jedi about, he gets all tense and kills them. Okay, so we’ve only met five Jedi, and all talk about peace and justice aside, they tried to kill us. I don’t think it‘ll be any different with this Jedi.

I put the speeder gear into neutral as I crested another dune. The rushing winds quietened away as air resistance gradually slowed us to a stop. I wasn’t worried about conserving fuel. The speeder had at least eight hundred kilometres before it needed to recharge its power cell. We’d be there and back long before that, I hope. Nah, I slowed down that way because I didn’t want a huge cloud of sand caught in our slipstream to slap me from behind. Sure we’re both wearing enough clothing that the sand won’t hit ‘us’, but it’s still annoying.

The speeder slowed to a stop, its repulsor idling. Flicking the switch on the handlebar, I pushed the ignition button in the centre. The bike powered down, leaving just the desert winds for company. Reaching down, I unfastened one of the saddlebags under my right boot and pulled out a bottle of water. They were in easy reach, both for use and protection. I’d laughed when Sharack said water was more valuable than credits here, but after today, I’d agree.

I had a small sip and almost coughed it back up. Ugh, was my throat really that dry or did the water have sand in it? I held it up to the dying light: nope, no sand, silt or dirt in there. I drank a bit more, and felt it slither over dry sore parts I hadn’t noticed before, before the half-warm fluid sluiced down my throat. I took another gulp, and tears welled slightly at the corners of my eyes. I took a third, swilling it in my mouth a bit, the almost cold shivering against my teeth before I swallowed.

I closed up the rags around the riding helmet and breathed in, smelling stale sweat and dust. Okay, this is the last time I borrow a breath mask off someone else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no haughty princess, but I like my air not smelling like someone else’s butt. Okay I get the hypocrisy in how I love Nar Shaddaa and all, but I go there for the people, not the décor. Still, Sharack’s arm funk’s better than a drift in the face.

Breathing deeply, I felt great: still grimy, tired and aching from all the running, gunning and riding I’d done today, but refreshed. I wanted to down the rest of the bottle, and see if more felt even better, but we only had eight bottles left, and I wasn’t alone.

I half turned in the saddle, and handed the bottle to the kid. He didn’t take it. I glanced back at him, and felt his head shift against my back. With the engine dead, I could hear his quiet snuffling. Yeah, I guess all that running, force leaps and lightsaber swinging could be pretty tiring too. Gently, I swung my leg over the speeder, shifting so he rested against my arm. Slowly, I tried to get up, my legs shaky. He moved with me. Huh, that shouldn’t- Oh. He’d wrapped his arms around my waist tight, as I’d told him to. I wriggled to give myself some breathing room as softly as I could. He moved with me. Okay, so that’s not going to work. Slowly, I levered my thumbs under his palms and –Argh!

His hands clamped down on my thumbs, squishing them in his durasteel grip. How did he get a grip so hard? Blinking away tears, I guided his arms away from my body. Now mostly free, I stood up. He slumped a bit, only held up by my thumbs. Delicately, I guided him back so he rested against the rear of the bike. Then I set to work freeing my thumbs.

Gently, I reached around with my fingers and pushed on the soft part of his wrist, where all the veins were. While I did that, I wiggled both thumbs in a figure eight. It took a while, but eventually, he loosened his grip. My thumbs came free and I hopped back before he grabbed anything else. Turns out I didn’t have to, he slowly curled up on the bike and started making these little distressed whimpering sounds.

I froze. Part of me wanted to go stretch my legs and set up camp for the night. My bladder really wanted me to go find a quiet spot for a few minutes. The rest of me knew the whimpering would haunt me all night, even if he stopped. The wise part of me -what it exists, I just don’t listen to it much- warned me that if he woke up after whatever nightmare he was having to find himself completely alone, it wouldn’t be good. Best case, he’d be rational and go look for me. Worst case, he’d flip out, and I’m not too sure I can calm him down without getting lightsaber’d. I weighted up my choices and decided. It’s not as if I can’t hold it for a bit longer.

Gently, I lifted the kid again, softly shushing him. Those green eyes fluttered open, focussed and darted on me. I cough-wheezed as he head-butted my left b**b: Ow. His arms wrapped around me again. Oh great, we’re back here again.

“Hey, you were having a nightmare,” I half-whispered as softly as I could. He hadn’t drank in a while, and the sun was hot enough to make my head spin, and I’m a twi’lek. We’re from a desert planet, kinda. I passed him the bottle I’d half-finished earlier. He unscrewed the top and drank deeply. You know, you really shouldn’t guzzle water like that. As if he’d heard my thoughts, he brought the bottle back down and sucked in a long breath. Sighing, he brought his free hand up, rubbing at sand in his eye. I would’ve called it sleep, but it couldn’t have been. We’d only been riding for two hours, and I know he was awake for the first part.

“I saw brown and green and smelled bad, and warmth that went cold, a red that became blue and warm but cold and my chest felt like it's full of bubbles.” A part of me mused it must be nice to have abstract nightmares. Mine’s usually a variation of waking up wearing nothing but a collar and chain.

“Shh, it’s okay now. You’re awake." I stayed by him for a minute, just stroking his red hair. Eventually, I straightened up, un-kinking my back. I've gotta head of for a few minutes, you gonna be okay on your own for a bit?”

“Where are you going?” he sounded nervous, as if blue and green monsters would jump out and eat him if I left his sight. I guess I could stay a bit-, uh nope, actually I really can’t. trust me on that, kay.

“Uh, nature calls,” I answered, flashing him a please don’t ask look. He missed it.

“Nature calls what?”

“Uh, it’s an expression. It means I need to go to the little girl’s room. He stared at me blankly for a moment, and then his eyes flashed with understanding.

“Oh, you need to go pee!” he exclaimed, way too loud. I rubbernecked, even though I knew there was no one in a hundred kilometres.

“Uh, yeah,” I agreed quietly. That seemed to satisfy his curiosity. Good, I really didn’t want to have to go into the difference between boys and girls.

“Okay, I’ll stay here.” He decided, glancing up at the sky, “It’ll be dark soon.

“Yeah, see if you can set up the tent. I’ll be back soon.” He nodded and I padded off into the desert.

After a few minutes, I made my way back around from the far side of the dune. I hadn’t gone far. Like I said, there’s no one around for kilometres, but I don’t want to get too far from our camp, or the kid. Sharack mentioned not splitting up and never wandering far from the bike.

When I got back, I saw the tent, more or less set up. It looked lopsided, like he’d used the wrong length strut for something, but I really didn’t care about that. It was shelter, and we had maybe fifteen minutes of light.

I sat the tent up and the kid then wandered off ‘to call nature’, as he tried to put it. I shifted to put my butt in the middle, wiggling my now-free toes in the evening breeze. My boots and socks were just inside the tent: last thing I want is something poisonous and spiky sleeping there for the night. The tent wasn’t all that big, barely big enough for me, though I guess that’s the point. Sharack is as tall as me, and she’d be more interested in travelling light than having room she wouldn’t need. The floor wasn’t padded either, just a thin synthweave fabric between my butt and sand. I slipped off the linen coat I’d bought from a Mos Ila vendor and I laid it over the base. It was better, but not by much.

We’d positioned it so the tent door pointed away from the sunset. I lay back, looking up at the sunset. There’d been a rain cover, but I didn’t think we’d need it. Instead, I got front row seats to the sunset and late on, the stars: talk about a double feature, huh. Yeah, I know stars aren’t all that special when you’ve crossed the galaxy a dozen times, but the patterns seen on each world is different.

The cool evening air blew through the open air top, running over my bare stomach. Yeah, maybe the cropped tank top wasn’t the best for the weather, but I really didn’t want dark patches on my favourite, and only other, shirt. This one worked well enough, especially with the matching coat I’d found. For once in possibly forever, it was quiet. I don’t mean the absence of anything loud, but real quiet. It was- I don’t know, weird definitely, but also nice, just having time with my thoughts, and nothing around to bother them.

I lay there and watched the now-dark blue sky flare orange and crimson as one of the suns lit the sky on fire. I watched as it turned the shadows into long, purple silhouettes on the far side of the dune. Idly, I raised my hands up into the light, and spent a moment making huge shadow animals. Golds joined the oranges and reds in the sky, sparkling like the storied accounts of Nok Drayen’s treasure.

You know, ever since his crew split, I wondered where Rish went. I wonder where she is now. I know she’ll be fine: she’s probably a billionaire by now, running plan after scheme and ordering armies of willing servants. She did always like bossing people around, and she was good at it too. Hey, she got me to hang around for a couple of years.

I heard sand crunch under boots nearby. Glancing around, I saw the kid bounce back: guess the water helped wake him up, just in time to go to sleep. He slid through the sands, leaving trails of little landslides tumbling down the dune

“You ready for bed?” I asked, a yawn creeping out with the words. Huh, guess the ride took more out of me than I thought.

“Just a few minutes, I need to do my evening exercises,” the kid. Yeah, I guess that’s okay. I’d seen him do them a couple of times over the last few weeks, but never really watched. I did this time.

He started slow, lighting his lightsaber and holding it in front of him. Slowly, he took one hand off the hilt, holding the weapon with one hand. The blade shook and turned little circles at the end, but more or less stayed steady. After a minute, he reached into his robe, and drew out another lightsaber. Huh, where’d he get that from? The blade burst into blue, and I remembered the snobby Jedi we’d caught in Sobrik. He held her lightsaber out, just like his. The ends of both trembled, but he held them firm.

Slowly, he started turning the two in his palms, gaining speed with momentum until he held two circles. I watched him twirl and spin his lightsabers, the rotations blindingly fast and close while he moved with a rehearsed grace. The crimson and cerulean light pierced the falling dark, weaving purples where they crossed. It was breathtaking, like some private show at my own personal concert. It was- I don’t know- hypnotic maybe? The way that each move flowed from one to another to the next, how any delay or pause in its dance signalled a force trick, or a particularly elaborate acrobatic move. Sand followed him like a cloak, a rain of glass shimmering where it touched the sabers. It was, I don’t know, beautiful, especially against the night sky. Maybe I’ve been looking at it all wrong. Maybe I’m tired and rambling. Eh, we’ll see in the morning. I closed my eyes, and let the warm, soothing darkness of sleep take me.

Vette killed the speeder’s engine and we coasted down the dune to the hut hidden in the sands. I hopped off the bike, waiting for her to walk the bike into the shadows before I knocked on the door. Vette asked me if we could do it without a fight. I think she doesn’t want to run around too much in the heat. Either that or she’s worried about having to fight a Jedi master. Yeah, I don’t think so either but I won’t start a fight unless she wants me to. The door drifted open, the inside dark against the glare from the two suns.

“Master Yonlach, the Sith Master Karr warned us about is upon us. Retreat to safety, I will take the intruder on,” someone announced from inside, and the green blade of a lightsaber lit the hut. I didn’t draw mine. I could have it in hand in less than a second, but we mightn’t have to fight. We just wanted to talk about the mystery padawan. I glanced at Vette and then headed in.

The hut was small, round and dark. Through my sight, I could feel two men, one old one young, both thrumming with bubbly light side power. A flash of the oasis passed through my head, and I felt my hand flex for my lightsaber. I stopped it. We’re here for information, not battle.

“No Yul-li, control your feelings. Stand at my side, I will face this trespasser,” the older one disagreed, slowly rising from behind the desk. The younger Jedi lit his saber, holding the green blade in an open, ready guard.

“I know why you have come. Nomen Karr’s padawan threatens you somehow. You seek to flush her into the open and silence her.” I glanced up at Vette. How did he know that? Baras only told Vette, Quinn and me, and I didn’t tell anyone, honest. Is it No-one Karr’s doing? But how would he know? I’ll have to think on it later, the Jedi was forbidding something

“We are psychically linked, she and I and I have already warned her about you. She will not fall for your manipulations,” Yonlach carried on, and Vette choked out a laugh. I twitched, half spinning to see Vette bent over, laughing like a uh laughy person. Then I realised I’d turned my head away from the Jedi. I whipped it back to see them both stare at her. Okay, so they hadn’t expected it either. Good, I’m not the only one. Wait, what does he mean by manipulations?

“But I really do just want to talk to her,” I protested. His glower spread into a full glare.

“I will not fall for your mainpulations either.

“Manipulation: the kid? We talking about the same person?” she choked between cackles. Hey, I can be manipulationy, uh manipuly; hang on, I know this one, manipulative. I just normally don’t want to. He turned his glare on Vette, and she weathered it like a statue does a storm. If it bothered her, it didn’t show on her face, or flicker in her colours. The Jedi held it up for a moment, then turned back to me. Okay, that was cool. How do I just bar a Jedi, or Sith, control like that?

“The disparity in our capabilities is equal to the disparity in our age,” he boasted, stretching his arms out as wide as he could without leaving the half barrier of the table between us.

“In me you face a full Jedi master, and Yul-li has greater command of lightsaber combat than any Jedi knight I have trained.

“Uh, colour me nervous but have we ever faced a full card carrying Jedi master before?” Vette asked from behind me, and I could hear the worry in her voice. So the desert heat didn’t have anything to do with her sudden anti-bloodlust. Don’t worry about it. They obviously want to fight, and I’ll beat them down for it.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” I reassured her, “you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.” I felt her warm trust waft around her and the unease sink away. It must feel nice, being able to do that. I kept my

“Your point is moot, as you will be facing us alone,” Yonlach growled, and I felt power twist and wrap past me, so fast I barely dodged in time. Heh, missed. A familiar blue presence winked out. Vette! She dropped, limply splattering on the floor. I whirled down beside her, ignoring the Jedi: they didn’t matter right now. She wasn’t moving, not even her eyes. No – not like this. Don’t leave me too. Her chest didn’t move. She was gone. She left me, just like everyone else. No, she didn’t leave: the Jedi murdered her. No hiding, no holding back and no mercy: they will suffer before they die. I unbar the part of my head that hears the whispers, and let them in. I open my senses and drink deeply. I know the room.

They had cleared the centre, ready for battle. I wonder whether they were truly ready for this. A bed, couch, chairs and shelves lined the sides. The only piece not cleared away was the simple hand crafted table between the old man and me, an obvious trap. I had to get around it, buying the younger Jedi time to intercept me. If I tried to jump over or onto it, he’d slam it against the ceiling light and let that fry me.

I knew all this in an instant, the force obediently relaying everything and I know it to be true. The younger Jedi, deep red with yellow flecks, surges forwards, lit saber sweeping down at me. He hopes that I am so distracted by Vette’s murder I cannot mount a defence, a coward’s attack. Typical of the Jedi: I will break him, but first…

I casually watch its slow descent. Time has not stopped: I see the blade descend, its hum growing louder as I breathe deeply. The force itself rushes in with my breath, an eternally obedient servant. I fashion it into a wall, layers of tendrils wrapped upon themselves to grant tangibility. His blade strikes it and sticks. His eyes widen as I

turn the wall into a wave.

The wave buffets him away like an errant fern, slamming him into and through the shelves. His lightsaber winks out. The old man fared better, his shield absorbing the brunt of my assault. It didn’t do anything against weight of the table. The simple workman’s table slammed the breath from his chest, the force ploughing him back against the wall. I press ethereal weight against the table’s far edge, the plan to bisect him with it. The wall gives before his ribs.

The table casts the old man out of his own home, into the harsh light of the twin suns. I stalk towards him, ready to wreak vengeance a thousand-fold.

I feel the red warmth of the younger Jedi long before he closes. Ah, there are always distractions. I turn to deal with the accomplice. He swings at us, a measured strike. He tests my skill rather than securing a kill: fool. He should strike hard, fast and utterly without ruth, else all he can only hope for a swift death. I catch his blade with a cross sliding it aside. It doesn’t go. The Jedi is larger than me and he tries to use it.

The Jedi leans his weight into his strength, slowly forcing his blade down, and the boy’s pair apart. The boy summons the force to prop his blades. The Jedi’s descent stops and inexorably reverses, but he wastes my time, my power and my patience. This I will not allow.

A whisper tells me to send a pulse of deep-seated ill will through my arms, and it sparks along our lightsabers. Locked in place, the Jedi screams, more in shock than agony, though that will soon change. I leap at the distracted Jedi, pushing with both blades. The cross slides down his lightsaber, shearing through the hilt. Blue background winks out, leaving only red. He ducks, dropping below my blades lethal slice, but not out of reach. My knee meets his nose. The force sends him back and me lurching into an ugly landing, feet either side of his bloody head. I glare down at him, and his blood trailed down my trouser leg: it suits them. I punch a saber down at his head. One moment and I’ll have the old man all to myself. Like I said, I’ll kill him slow, savouring every moment.

Power hits me from the side. I feel much of it bleed away harmlessly, but enough remains to throw me in a lazy wash. I turn in mid-air, pulling in more power as I land. The old man won’t get another opportunity like that.

I crackle with power and the whispers tell me a secret. Almost on impulse, I raise my hands, fingers outstretched. Power stabs from my fingers, arcing at the Jedi who murdered Vette. My hands hurt. I didn’t care. I know his shield, a tangle of bubbles, constantly refreshing as the lightning popped them, but more burst than reformed. I will breach his shield soon enough and then he will suffer. It happens as I foresee and his screams fill his hovel.

I don’t know how long I stand there, pouring power into the writhing murderer. I know that his screams became ragged and hoarse before someone tackled me. The wrestler brings me down with his weight.

“Please, stop. You’ve won. Let’s just get out of here, yeah,” someone whimpered in my ear, and they used Vette’s voice. You dare… you murder her, and you dare to use her voice! I reach back with my unleashed power, reaching for his neck. I’ll break both of them, keeping the elder alive long enough to feel me rip the knowledge from his head and then the heart from his beloved mystery padawan. Something made me stop: The younger Jedi didn’t have lekku. Vette?

Whispers screech in my head, demanding she die, but they’re wrong. Vette’s not a charlatan, a trick and she’s not a weakness. I seal them away again, and my vision goes all whirly for a bit. I turn around in her hug and see it’s really her. It was, though her eyes were huge and the skin around her eyes a darker shade of blue. She’d been crying: she saw everything, she must’ve.

I’m sorry. I thought you were dead and they’d killed you and I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to get carried away. Tears welled up in my eyes and I buried my head against her shoulder. The Jedi can’t know I’m this weak. I don’t know how long we were there like that, but it was a while. Eventually, the rivers dried up in the Tatooine heat. I straightened up, and saw her face. She didn’t look me in the eye. They’re not my eyes any more, are they? Glancing around for anything else to look at, she found something and breathed.

“Whoa, what happened to your gloves? I glance at my hands. They sting a bit but I’d pushed the pain away, like you’re meant to. Pain is only good when you can use it for power. The dark leatheris is even darker than before, and smells like burnt meat. My fingers crackle with every stiff wiggle, but I slowly peel my ruined gloves off. Vette gasps and I see my hands.

Blackened root-like scars spread out from the flat of my palms out along my fingers and thumbs. It must’ve been the lightning: I can’t use lightning, I’ve never been able to, until now I guess. I don’t like what it takes to make it. I reached out, touch the plant-lady power and run it through my fingers. It stings and fizzles where the warm bubbles meet the cold spikes. I push more through, driving out the cold with twinges of pain, but the burns don’t fade. They’re here forever.

“Hey, c’mon, we can get some Kolto on that, they’ll be just like new.” Vette soothed, her delicate fingers cupping under my hands.

“No, I answered quietly, gaining power with conviction, “I can’t just wash this away. I am Sith, and I accept consequence.” She looked at me with sad eyes, and I think she got it.

“What about that, can we wash that away?” she asked, smiling weakly as she poked my leg. I glanced down and saw blood splatted all over my right leg. When did that happen? It doesn’t hurt there so I don’t think it’s mine.

“Uh, I think so. I’ll see if Too-Vee knows how to.”

What about this one?” she asked, gently poking at something on my chest. I craned my neck to see whatever it- Ack! She flicked my nose. She laughed at me, the silvery tinkle in it making weird ripples in the force. It was almost enough I didn’t sense the presence behind me. The Jedi, the older one who hadn’t killed Vette loomed over us, leaning heavily on a broken strut from the shelves. How long had he been watching?

“Why do you seek Nomen Karr’s padawan?” he asked, his voice cracked and hollow, like he’d been shouting all day, or screaming. I guess he had. Um, I might’ve done that.

“Baras wants to protect his people from her power,” Vette eventually answered. I wasn’t going to. I didn’t even want to look at him, to see the burns I’d caused. Vette shifted her shoulder, pushing me for more information. I didn’t want to give it to him, didn’t want to acknowledge anything about him, but Vette trusted him. If she can get past that he did something to her, why wouldn’t he? I took a deep breath, willed steel into my eyes and spoke.

“He thinks the best way to make his people safe is to kill her,” I paused, half listening for his response but also my thoughts. It just didn’t add up. She was a threat because she had a power and served someone who wanted to use it against us. She was like a lightsaber in his hands. You don’t kill the lightsaber; you go for the wielder, “but I’m not so sure. All we really need is for her to stop being a Jedi, or maybe just Karr’s padawan.” I felt his gaze on us, firm and resolute and sad? Why would he be sad? I don’t understand.

“Her name is Jaesa, Jaesa Wilsaam, I will tell her of our meeting, and what you said. If you give me your holofrequency, I will ask her to contact you directly. Your master need hurt no one else. I ask only that you spare her life. She is a good person, even if her master seeks to fashion her into a weapon against yours.” Vette drew her holocomm out from her pocket, and bumped it against his. The two flashed and she put hers away.

“Why are you telling us all this?” Vette asked, but it sounded like she already knew why, or at least had an idea.

“Jaesa could become one of the greatest Jedi I will ever know, but if her current path will cut short her life, I’d rather she forget her gifts and go back to Alderaan. The galaxy needs someone with her clarity and kindness a lot more than Master Karr needs a spotter.” He paused, and I felt his gaze.

“I closed my mind because of Master Karr’s warning and my own preconceptions and in doing so almost unleashed a monster on the galaxy. Your friend’s right in that you can’t deny consequence, but you can sometimes mitigate the damage. I watched you turn the Sith nightmare I’d created back into a child. If you can redeem my mistake, why should I not help you?” He’s talking about me, isn’t he? I became his nightmare. I should have felt proud of that, that a renowned Jedi fears me so much. Instead, I felt sick. It wasn’t just from the smell of burnt meat that filled the hut. I – I need to get out of here.

Pushing away from Vette, I burst out of the hut, pulling sand in my wake. Darting around the side, I fell to all fours and was sick. My throat felt slimy and the nutrient paste we’d had for breakfast stank. I felt a wave of clamping and squeezing wash up from my belly again, but there was no more sick. Instead, I just felt awful. I rolled over, careful not to fall in the sick. I don’t want to smell of that all the way back.

Someone blocked out the sun. So, the younger Jedi had snuck out to murder me while I’m weak: figures. I reach out with power, and then stopped as the figure squatted down beside me.

“Hey, you okay?” Vette asked. I whimpered a groan at her. She smiled that too-cheery smile at me, “C’mon, we’re all done here so let’s go.”

Vette helped me up and took me back to the speeder. We were done with this hot dry world. We knew who Karr’s mystery padawan was, where she came from and that she would contact us soon: we had succeeded. Why doesn’t it feel like victory?

The Zakuul shuttle made it away from the prison ship and down to the planet's surface without trouble. The atmosphere of the planet was filled with skyhooks that went way above orbit. The tallest of them, which Gareb had indicated was where Jasin and Marr had been taken, loomed above. There was some kind of chaos going on around the upper levels.

Prudii clenched his fists against his restraints as Dankin dropped the shuttle into an almost vertical descent. He heard Gareb suck in a breath and at first assumed that he was reacting as badly as Prudii to the sudden drop.

"Marr's dead," he said.

Prudii blinked. "Come again?"

"I just sensed it," Gareb said. "Marr just died."

"Jasin?"

"I...don't know, I can't get a clear sense of him. I think–agh!"

Gareb fell out of his seat and flat onto the deck. Prudii reached down and grabbed him before the g-forces could crush him against a wall. He forcefully pulled Gareb to his side and held him there.

"What?"

"The...Emperor," Gareb said.

Methic looked pale, too. "Valkorion. He just died."

Prudii let out a breath of relief. Finally, after all this time, the chakaar was dead. Maybe now, things could get a little easier.

"I'm taking us down into the lower levels of the city," Dankin said. "We'll have to climb in through the sewers. From there, we can find whatever we need. Trust me; the lower levels of any planet are the place to hide."

* * *

Not long after they climbed out of the sewers, an announcement went out over all of the city's holoprojectors. It was Arcann, the Emperor's son, declaring that Valkorion had been murdered by an Outlander–Jasin, no doubt–and that the Outlander was to be summarily executed. Merok watched Gareb and Methic's faces fall at that announcement.

"Jasin made a noble sacrifice," Merok said. "He killed the Emperor. Any one of us would've given our lives to do the same."

Then, Arcann's announcement continued, saying that all of the Eternal Empire's considerable might would be directed at the Core Worlds. Merok felt a little sick. Neither the Empire nor the Republic would ever be able to stand up to the Eternal Empire's might.

Dankin urged them on. After some time, they found a warehouse that seemed abandoned. They pried some boards from the doors and went inside, carefully closing the doors behind them. Gareb sank to the floor, his back to the wall, and exhaled deeply. Methic punched a wall.

"Now, now," Darth Nox said. "Don't you wish you'd listened to me and left this Force forsaken place while we had the chance?"

Prudii spun on Nox. "Not now! They just lost a brother and a cousin."

"He was our friend," Dankin said. "All of us."

Dha glowered at Nox. "Most of us, anyway."

Nox shrugged. "He was a Jedi, I a Sith. I saw no reason to be particularly friendly toward him."

"He was a great warrior, and a better man," Dha said. "Now, we honor his memory by doing what we can from here to fight the Eternal Empire. Arcann can't get away with this invasion."

Merok decided it was time he spoke up. "Agreed. Listen: we all have loved ones back in Republic or Imperial space. They know about Zakuul. Some will warn the governments, others will hide. But the most we can do to help them now is to begin hurting Zakuul however we can." He looked over Dha and Prudii's armor, Gareb's robes, the two Sith's distinctive garb. "But we'll need some new gear."

Dha looked concerned. "Ditch my beskar?"

"I'd bet Mandos aren't exactly common around here," Merok said. "It's important for us to blend in. I'll probably even wear a human disguise most of the time when I go out. This warehouse can be our headquarters; we can leave your beskar and the rest of our gear here. When the time comes...we'll reveal our true selves."

"He's right," Gareb said. His voice sounded hoarse. "We have to look just like any other citizen of Zakuul."

"Dankin and I will go out and find us equipment," Merok said. "The rest of you, stay here and try to get this warehouse cleaned up. See if there's anything here we can use."

The others nodded and started exploring the warehouse. Merok jerked his head at Dankin, and the smuggler nodded and followed Merok out the door.

"You're the underworld specialist," Merok said. "Find us the best people to get us clothes, armor, and equipment that won't identify us as Republic or Imperial."

Dankin smirked. "All right. Then let's see if we can't find the nearest cantina, and we'll start from there."

Merok rolled his eyes, pulled his hood up over his head to conceal him from prying eyes, and followed Dankin down the narrow alleyways of the lower city.

While Nox brooded in an upstairs room, the rest of the group went about cleaning up the warehouse. Dha, no longer wearing his helmet or gauntlets–which were stacked neatly next to a pile of old crates, along with Prudii's armor–searched the warehouse's back rooms.

There were more crates in here, but most were empty. A few had datapads, holocommunicators, or everyday utensils in them, but most of their batteries were already dead. The biggest problem was the abundance of cobwebs. Dha went back to the main room, picked up one of his gauntlets, returned to the room, and began destroying the cobwebs with his flamethrower.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Prudii exclaimed. "Udesii, ner vod. Don't want to burn down the whole building!"

"Relax," Dha replied. "I'm using the lowest setting. It'll get rid of the cobwebs, but this building isn't going to burn. I promise. I'm smarter than that."

Prudii sighed. "Be careful."

He turned and went back to whatever he'd been doing before, and Dha returned to flamethrower-ing the cobwebs. A few minutes into the job, Gareb came by and began using the Force to arrange the crates neatly in one corner. Dha nodded in approval.

"Hey, guys," Methic called. "Come here!"

Dha and Gareb left the side room and went down the hall to the room Methic was occupying. He pulled open a crate. Inside was a suit of gold armor. It looked like the armor of the Zakuul Knights. Prudii walked in behind them.

"Whoa," he said.

"Looks like we've got a disguise if we ever need one," Methic said. "Wonder how this got here?"

Gareb shrugged. "Don't look a gift taun-taun in the mouth, I guess. Let's get this place cleaned up before Merok and Dankin return. I think there's a full-sized holotable in the left upstairs room that might be functional."

Dha and Prudii followed him out. Methic spared the suit of armor one last glance, and then followed them, too.

@Almostinsane- Spoilers, sorry

@GrayishPhoenix- I like how you got so many of your oc's backstories to connect with each other. If you're looking for a tip, I'd say work on making sure that the characters' names are a little more logically incorporated. Sometimes I would read a name and be like "Who was this again?" But a nice start, glad to see you here

@Oliverthefighter- lol

@toatokua- RE: The Toymaker- That's so cute! I like that the agent has a secret soft side that doesn't just sit there, but also helps him calm down and fill time.

RE: Skipping for KOTFE spoilers, sorry

@Yoshi- Gah, more KOTFE spoilers!

RE: "Spring" Cleaning- I'm guessing this is after the 5 year time skip I've heard about? I like your writing style

@Feldraeth- First, hope you get internet back soon, not having it always sucks

RE: Beauty Against a Binary Sunset- I like it Vette is pretty put-upon, and the fact that she's as loyal to Roan as she is is a testiment in her favor. I also love the line "A part of me mused it must be nice to have abstract nightmares".

RE: The Hermit- Awww What I suspected would happen is starting, and I feel bad for Roan. I wonder who he'll be at the end of it all?

Nar Shaddaa, a vile place filled with smog and various diseases. I was only there to go to the Hutt slave fights in order to collect a new slave for my father to use up. I hated doing his dirty work, but what could i do? He was my father. Muttering to myself the whole way, I barely noticed that i had arrived at my destination. Upon entering i saw what one would expect of a slave fighting ring, it was grimy, and the air stank worse that the rest of Nar Shaddaa. I wasn't expecting to get a ping of force energy here. Following the source of the energy, i could see that the trail led out from the viewing area, and all the way to the slaves fighting on the arena floor.

The fight shouldn't have been fair, but there was something off about the small and thin pencil of a kid fighting off against a wookie. Yet teh trail of force energy led right to the small kid, and flares of a beautiful dark blue were coming off this kid. This fight definitely wasn't fair, but it wasn't the kid who didnt stand a chance, it was the wookie. The two were circling each other, the wookie armed with a large vibrosword, and the kid had a small vibroknife, yet while the wookie held the huge sword in his hands in a stance that radiated strength and ferocity, the kid was wielding the knife backwards, no, it was an agile stance.

After a tense moment the kid leaped at the wookie, taking the poor creature by surprise, and while a normal force-blind that saw this fight would think the kid was just savagely tearing into the wookie with the knife, I could see the waves of entropic energy that weakened the wookie that were also bolstering the kid.

This kid amazed me. While only a slave he had mastered a force technique that most sith don’t. Then the fight changed. The blue aura of the kid turned an inky black, and then faded to a sick green as the kid climbed off the wookie and roared ferociously in victory. As the gamorrean guards came, he turned and saw me, the mad green aura faded from him and he then allowed himself to be taken back to the slave pens.

Turning to the weequay host of the ring I asked to be allowed to see the kid while also holding up a small credit chit. The host grunted and motioned for me to follow after taking the credits. I was led to the pens, and as i was walking along, i could see the people in them, grimy and scarred, fear pouring off some in tsunamis, while others had hatred and rage bubbling beneath the surface. I was led to the last cell, separated from the others a bit, and i could see that it was a bit nicer than the other ones. The host informed me that he’d give us privacy, but he wouldn’t be far off.

Upon seeing the cell i had noticed that the kid was lying on a wretched thing that some would call a cot, but it honestly just looked like a slab of metal, like it was something one would see in a morgue. Lying there was an even smaller figure that the not even remotely covering slave garments cut out. The kid couldn’t have been more than 12, and yet he was already covered in slave brands, almost all of them were just scars now, but they were some that were fresh. Tracing his body i could see that he was strong enough to have survived so long in the fighting rings. The worst bit was his face, with blood coating it, but it was worse around his eyes, as there were patches of skin visible through the blood as if he had been crying.

Concentrating with the force i slowly picked up the blood on his face, and moved it over to the travesty that they called a sink. Without the blood covering his face, the kid looked so much younger, and yet the worst bit was the fresh brand on his face, coming down from his forehead to his neck. After being calm about this for so long, i almost lost it. But i couldn’t, so using the unease i felt i carefully used what meager healing techniques i knew to try and help the kid in front of me. The healing worked, mostly, as the brand was no longer a large bit of burned flesh, but now was a very prominent scar. I began to wait for the kd to wake up.

It took an hour for the kid to wake up, with his aura a stormy grey with pain and confusion. He reached up and gingerly touched his face before he even opened his eyes. The kid began opening his eyes in a way that spoke of not expecting them to actually open. He saw me and his eyes jolted the rest of the way open, his aura a dripping yellow mess of fear. I raise my hand in a calming motion while i take in the sight of his eyes. One eye was a brilliant blue, while the other was a mess of scar tissue.

Sensing that staring at the ye that wasn’t quite hidden by the kid’s glossy copper hair i decided to offer the kid something. “That was a good fight kid. But I don’t exactly think you belong here anymore. Don’t you agree?” The kid’s aura shone with a hopeful cyan, as he began to nod enthusiastically. “First though, what is your name?”

The kid gulped, his voice barely above a whisper, and rife with the cracks of disuse. “18, I am called slave 18” 18’s aura was a dark orange with pain.

Rage at the monsters that would deny a kid of his own name filled my aura, turning the once calm gold to a consuming bloodred. My voice, while soft, was filled with venom and hatred. “No, what is your name, not a model number! Damn it, you’re a person not a fraggin droid!” My red soaked voice gave way to a harsh onyx. 18 looked scared of the energy rolling off me in waves. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Tell you what, if you don’t have a name, or don’t want to share, we can make one up. How about that, huh?” My aura calmed to a stormy silver.

“I don’t have a name, they never gave me one, just the number.” Again the innocent and soft whisper brought red to my ears.

Calmly I decided what to do. “Very well... 18 is the letter R, so how about Ro? No, that’s not it.” I snapped my fingers, pleased with myself, returning my aura to a kindly gold. “How about Morozov?, wait, you’re gonna need a first name too… Cerulean, no how about Cecton. Cecton Morozov. How about that name?”

18 nodded, his aura shining white. “Then sit tight Ro.” I left his pen and walked straight up to the host and told him i was going to gather payment for my new property, if they were for sale. (I almost retched saying the word property like that. ugh) I went to a secluded area and called for my father. My father picked up quickly, his large black armored frame filling the holo. His eyes were covered up by vicious looking metal, and I could tell by his stance that he was angry. “My Lord, i have found the perfect slave for you, but i’m gonna need a little extra in order to get something i want too.”

The man in the holo softened a bit at his son’s voice, but then hardened at the request. “Very well, you shall have your plaything, but know that you and I are going to talk Heide. Especially about your… preferences.” The deep voice cut off the moment after the last word was said, leaving Demron alone with the holo in his hand.

Returning to the host I paid for Ro and slave #19, with plans to send 19 to my father. (again I almost retched throughout the entire interaction.) I sent 19 on a commercial shuttle, trusting imperial security to take care of that one, which led me to return to get Ro out myself. Nodding to him I led him to my personal shuttle. It seems we both were awaiting a new fate.

It’s not perfect but it's as far as i can take it. In terms of the tension between Demron and his father and his mentioning Demron's preferences, he is referring to the fact that in my head Demron is Bi, not the typical hetero character. His father does not approve, but more on that in another story

Sweat runs down my back and forehead and chills me in the not-quite-warm Tython air. The hulking Flesh Raider in front of her swings its vibroblade and I jump backwards. Flesh raiders are supposed to be primitive humanoids, barely sentient. Where did they find advanced technology like this?

Opening myself up to the Force and letting it flow through me, I launch myself into a leap, flipping into an arc that ends when my training sabers slice into the creature’s flesh. Its muddy brown life suptters and fades to nothingness as I spin to face the next one. Why are there so many of them? And where is Padawan Saien?

I kick out at another Flesh Raider and parry a blow from the third, managing to turn it into a riposte that nicks it shoulder. It howels in pain and its volume in the Force increases to match. Redoubling its attack, it brings it weapon down towards my head with a roar.

I catch it and stagger under the blow. The creature is strong. Shoving out with the Force, I sent the one behind me stumbling back and press upward with my blades. Still the Flesh Raider’s weapon inches closer to my head. My arms start to buckle just as the other Flesh Raider regains its footing and starts toward me again.

Suddenly, another presence bursts into my awareness and the pressure on my blades lightens. Capitalizing on the opportunity, I kick at my opponent and spin to intercept the approaching creature. My boot connects with flesh and it staggers, its presence twisting in response. Two more blows finish it and I stop, panting. My mouth is dry and I wish I had thought to bring a bottle of water along with me. Oh well, a Jedi should be above personal comfort.

The newcomer is human, I can tell, male and at least in his forties. Not Padawan Saien, then. I bow slightly from the waist. “Thank you for your help, sir.” I’m not sure of his rank, and sir should cover master or knight.

“No problem.” His voice is gruff, but not unkind, matching his Force-sense, which reminds me of a waterfall in a rocky stream- energetic and a little dangerous, but not at all frightening. “You would have been fine without me, most likely. Are you one of the padawans Master Waller sent out?”

“Yes, sir. Have you seen a Mirialan around here? I’m supposed to be escorting her to recover some artefacts.”

“Padawan Saien? She’s the one who sent me to come look for you. I think she felt bad for getting separated from you.”

“It’s alright. It was probably my fault.” I should have paid more attention. I won’t do that again.

“She’s fine, I’m sure. But you probably shouldn’t keep her waiting too long or she might come out here herself.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll walk back with you. My name’s Orgus Din, by the way.”

I slice through the last of the Imperial troops and push back the strands of my hair that fell in my face. My hand comes away sticky with sweat. Tatooine is hotter than anywhere I’ve ever been and it’s wearing me down. But I can’t stop now. Not with so much at stake. Taking a swig from my canteen, I jog further into the tunnel.

“Wait!” calls Kira from somewhere behind me. “Can we rest for a sec?”

“Master Kiwiks is close, I’m sure of it. Rest if you need to, though.” There’s no point in putting Kira in more danger by making her exhaust herself. She may be driven, but I’ve trained longer and can stand more exertion.

I hear the sounds of the apprentice following me. “I’m alright, I suppose.”

We encounter no more Imperials as we run through the rough-hewn caverns and every moment my anxiety increases. Are we too late? Have I already failed?

But no, there’s Master Kiwiks’ reassuring presence, like a very faint glow. She’s not doing well, even I can tell. She feels fractured, like she’s just barely holding herself together and will shatter at the slightest touch.

As soon as I step into the Shock Drum chamber, I know why. Tremors race from the machine into the center of the room up my legs and into my stomach, vibrating everything at just the right frequency to make it feel like my bones are cracking. Kira’s gasp tells me that she feels it too. Dark energy fills the room like smoke, but we seem to be alone. For now, anyway. Cautiously, I make my way forward.

Even taking the few steps toward the superweapon increases the strength of the tremors tenfold. I fight to stay on my feet. Master Kiwiks lays on her side, facing away from my with a set of cuffs binding me to the ground.

Gently, Kira tries to roll the Togruta over while I pull out my lightsaber and start to work on the chains. “Orgus?” murmurs Master Kiwiks.

“No, Master. It’s Kira, your padawan.”

Master Kiwiks’ presence steadies a bit. “Kira? And…. And Orgus’ padawan. Where is he? I had a feeling…”

“He’s fine, Master. He’s on Alderaan,” says Kira soothingly, gathering her master into her arms. For someone with such an aggressive personality, she had a surprisingly nurturing side in her too.

Climbing to my feet, I make my way over to the Shock Drum. There has to be some way to turn it off. Sure enough, there’s some sort of control panel on the side. Pulling out my lightsaber, I slash at it, hacking back and forth, taking out my frustration on inanimate machinery until I’m once again as calm as a still summer day. The ground shudders and stills. The only sound is breathing, mine and Kira’s and Master Kiwiks’ ragged gasps.

Her light is getting dimmer. I need to get us out of here quickly to have a shot at saving her life. Even then, I’m not sure it’ll be enough. If only I had gotten here faster.

Kira shifts. “Stay with me Master, come on. We’re here, we’re going to get you out of here.”

“Orgus, I…” Her voice trails off into nothingness.

“Come on, Kira,” I say hollowly. “Help me pick her up.” A thought has seized in my mind and won’t let go, like a worm trying to burrow its way into the base of my skull.

Master Orgus and Master Kiwiks are in love.

I keep my lightsabers out as Kira and I run cautiously down the hallway of the research facility. We haven’t seen any kiliks larger than hatchlings inside, but Master Orgus wouldn’t be holed up in here without a reason.

Would he? I’m not sure I know anymore. The Jedi I worked with was a lie. But Grand Master Satele wants him rescued, so rescue him I will.

The hallway ends in a door and we stop. “Think we should go in?” says Kira. She seems a lot calmer than she did while looking for her master, which is understandable, I suppose.

“He’s in that direction,” I respond. Kira tries the door, finds it locked, and stabs her lightsaber into the center.

Quickly moving the blade in a circle, she cuts a hole large enough for us to step through and gives it a Force shove inward.

The sound of an activating lightsaber greets us, along with a startled oath. “Kira, Eyrie. I didn’t expect you two.” Master Orgus voice. His presence is the same as ever, and something twists inside me. How can it be when everything is different now? “How did you get past the giant kilik?”

“What kilik?” says Kira.

As if in response to her words, something thumps off to our side. I can feel a massive creature with a deep, animal need to destroy any possible threat to itself and its nest. Like the other kiliks I’ve met, the presence echoes and reverberates, the feel of a hive mind, I suppose. The ground shakes as something slams into the wall to our right, once, twice, three times. Then with a shuddering crack, it bursts in, sending stones and dust flying into my face.

“If that thing eats us, you’re fired,” says Master Orgus and leaps for the creature, activating his lightsaber as he does so.

I follow. Talking about what I’ve discovered will have to wait. Landing just behind the kilik, I slice at one of its legs, which buckles but stays on. I’ve learned that many more substances than I would have thought are resistant to lightsaber cuts, and kilik carapace is one of them. Still, eventually I’ll make it through.

Finally, the leg hangs limp and the kilik stumbles back from us, hissing in displeasure, claws flailing. One grazes my cheek and I feel blood trickling down the side of my face. Master Orgus jumps back at it and I dart around, trying to flank it. A hoard of smaller kiliks pour into the room, but I use the Force to slam them back into the walls, hard enough to crush their exoskeletons.

The loss of its spawn seems to anger the giant kilik and it screeches and redoubles its attack, slashing wildly at us and anything else in reach. But in its rage it leaves itself wide open to an attack from the left, which I take as soon as it presents itself. The creature collapses into a jagged pile of limbs with a cry that feels like breaking glass in the Force.

Master Orgus turns to me and I can feel his smile like a flash of sunlight through the stream. “Looks like you got here just in time.”

“I did.” The words come out stiff and awkward and I bite my lip to keep from going on.

Not soon enough. “What’s wrong, Eyrie?”

He doesn’t know. “Nothing that can’t wait till we’re in private.”

He remains silent for a moment, then says briskly “Kira, why don’t you go outside for a minute. Holler if you see any kiliks.”

“OK… Sure thing…”

As soon as the sound of her footsteps have disappeared, Master Orgus sits down heavily on the edge of the raised platform that probably held a computer terminal at one point. “Sit down, Eyrie. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

I don’t sit. “How could you?”

“How could I what?” He knows what I’m talking about now, I’m sure, but he’s avoiding saying it directly until he’s certain.

“You and Master Kiwiks are- are involved!” It comes out louder and angrier than I meant it.

“Yes, we are.”

“How could you?” I repeat again helplessly. “You lied to the Jedi Council, to me!”

“I’m sorry. But we were going to tell the Council as soon as this was over and until then, I saw no point in telling you. Nothing was official, so I figured it could wait.”

“But I’m your apprentice. We’re supposed to trust each other.”

“That doesn’t mean I have to tell you everything. Have you told me everything about yourself?”

I think back. Losing control on Nar Shadda, Lord Pravan, all my secret thoughts in the long years since discovering my legacy. “It doesn’t matter. You still covered it up and now you don’t even see why it’s a problem! Don’t you know where this leads?”

“Love isn’t a poison, Eyrie! It’s a gift!” He’s shouting too now, and the room crackles with tension.

“Tell that to my parents.”

“Bela and I are different than them. You have to trust me.”

“Well I don’t.” It feels like something is ripping in half inside me and my face feels hot. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m going back to the outpost.”

The facility is empty, with only the distant sound of alarms breaking the silence. My footsteps echo louder than they should and I fight the urge to stop. Lord Nefarid knows I’m coming. Stealth will give a bit of an advantage, but I can’t hope to really surprise him.

I still haven’t worked out what’s going on with Master Orgus. After our fight, he left to hunt down Darth Angrel personally. Or join him, I think, but push the unworthy thought away. I’m not going to let myself go there until I have more evidence. But I don’t know what to expect from him now.

I shove the un-Jedi-like fear and anger down inside myself, where I can deal with them later or just wait until they stop bothering me. I have to focus on saving Alderaan now. Pulling out my lightsabers, I step through the door to the large testing room.

Like the rest of the place, it’s empty and dead silent. I walk forward hesitantly. Has Lord Nefarid set a trap? Or has he escaped already?

Something flickers in my consciousness on the raised platform at the other end of the chamber. “Welcome, Padawan Lancaster.”

My heart stops. That’s not Lord Nefarid’s voice. It’s low and raspy and dripping with hate. Darth Angral. My steps quicken.

The platform is a good ten meters above my head, but a pair of ramps on either side stretch down to the floor. Selecting one at random, I start to climb slowly. “I’m so glad to see you.” He’s not there, I can’t feel him at all. Perhaps a hologram or comm. Even a prerecorded message set to trigger when I walk through the door.

Clink, clink, clink. My boots tap hollowly on the durasteel of the ramp. Finally, I reach the top.

“I surmised you would come here. You Jedi are so predictable.”

“What are you going to do, Angrel? You obviously didn’t predict enough to show up.”

“What I did predict was this.” There’s a ‘thunk’ sound, muffled over the transmission, and someone grunts. “Say hello to your padawan, Orgus.”

“It’s not too late to do the right thing, Angrel. Surrender, and the Jedi will offer you mercy. Refuse, and I don’t think you’ll do as well against Eyrie as you think.” He sounds terrible. How long has Angrel had him and what has he been doing to him? In my shock, I forget to consciously block the bond we share and pain floods in.

“It’s a pity you both didn’t come. I could have cut you down together. I suppose I’ll just have to deal with you later, though. Shouldn’t be too difficult.” A long pause while I wait helplessly. Impotent rage drives me to do something, anything, and I pace a tight line, lightsabers clutched in my tightly clenched fists. “Tell me, Jedi. Are you afraid to die?”

“There is no death. There is only the Force.” Master Orgus’s voice is calm, steady. Perfectly Jedi-like. I can sense his fear like a pounding heartbeat in the Force, but also peace.

“If there is no death…” A lightsaber activates. “Then where is my son?”

Master Orgus’s presence lingers for a moment, then vanishes, gone into the void like vanishing wisps of steam.

“Nooooo!” rips from my throat and I spin blindly around to meet the ambush I somehow still register is there.

Both lightsabers stab into Lord Nefarid as I lift him with the Force and send his body slamming into the wall, again and again until I’m sure he’s dead. But it feels like I’m the one being impaled instead. Next, I attack the console, making long cuts into the equipment that send electric sparks skating onto my arms to burn tiny pinholes in my tunic and skin. This is my fault. If I had listened to him, he would never have gone alone, and he would be alive right now. I shouldn’t have doubted, should have trusted. This is my fault.

My legs give out and my world collapses to a pinhole as I fall to my knees.

Because Eyrie didn't get enough to beat herself up over in the main game story

Eyrie's parental issues are explained in this story

Masters Din and Kiwiks are indeed a couple in my universe, and their relationship is expanded on here

The meaning of the title is that while I decided that the Prologue and Act I took about two years to complete, in terms of things coming full circle, there was very much a progression of four seasons. I did play with cannon a little bit to allow people to be alone when they needed to be and such.

Bryyn fiddled nervously with the fastenings of her jacket as she waiting outside the office. Catching herself, she forced them down into her lap and concentrated on even, regular breathing. She was certain failure was still possible, and even if it wasn’t, best to be professional. “Harkness?” said the gentle voice of the receptionist droid.

Standing, she walked quickly through the indicated door into the office. This was it. Head high, shoulders back, proper walk. Inside sat a woman with greying brown hair pulled into a severe bun at a massive goawood desk. She tapped a stylus on the polished surface and pursed her lips as she studied a datapad. Bryyn stood stock still. The director of the Academy was notoriously exacting and there was no point in annoying her.

Finally, she looked up. “Welcome,” she said in a perfect Imperial accent. If she hadn’t known better, Bryyn would never have believed that the woman had actually been raised on a small republic colony world that the Empire had conquered years ago. Not that she ever acknowledged it. Bryyn had heard rumors that the last student to discuss it had been killed by a target a mere week later.

The director studied her for a long moment and Bryyn tried not to cringe. The woman unsettled her more than most Sith she had met. When she finally looked down, she tapped a few keys on the datapad and the space above the desk lit up with a web of hologramatic light. The director swept most of it aside to enlarge a single image: a human woman with tired eyes and hair just beginning to streak grey. A housewife, if Bryyn remembered correctly, with two adolescent children. “Trye Anu,” the director read from the description. “She was your first kill assignment.”

“Which I did. Industrial-grade sedatives injected into the upper abdominal region, evidence planted to point to the target’s husband, a medic at a local veterinary hospital.” She felt a little guilty for implicating him, he was a good man. His wife had not been, however, and she could convince herself that the galaxy would be better off without her without too much effort. Or at least, could mostly convince herself.

“Excillent. The Kaas City police force arrested him this morning.” The director didn’t look particularly pleased, but Bryyn knew this was as close as she would ever get to a compliment from her. The woman shoved Trye’s image to the side and pulled up another shot, this one of a twi’lek about her own age, wearing a slave color and not much else, with a languid expression and slightly flirtatious posture. “Minja. A seduction, I believe?”

“Correct.” Getting into the dancer’s briefs of a Sith Lord’s favorite plaything had been tricky, but eventually she had found a way in and as far as her sources could tell her, his mistress still didn’t know.

“Would you care to explain how that took place?”

“Yes, sir.” On and on the interview went, covering the intimate details of everyone she had been assigned. In the last two months, she had managed to kill all six of her targets, obtain the layout of the three classified buildings, integrate herself into the personal lives of the three Drommund Kaas residents, and sleep with five of the six people she had been assigned. And she could have done the last one, as well, but twelve-year-olds, even ones cyberneticly enhanced to be far more mature than their age would suggest, were a line she wasn’t willing to cross.

The director finished analyzing her progress and leaned back in her chair, studying Bryyn. She tried to meet the woman’s durasteel gaze. Finally, she leaned forward. “I was against it, Harkness, but my superiors have decided to pass you. Report to the armory immediately to have your gear fitted, and be ready to leave for Nar Shadda tomorrow.”

I wasn't too sure about including some of the darker details, particularly the last one, but I decided that Imperial Intelligence would ensure there were literally no lines their agents wouldn't be willing to cross if they had too.

The title has a bit of a dual meaning here, since it's mostly about Bryyn using every tool at her disposal to do her job, but also about how the Empire doesn't really view her as anything more than a tool to get what it wants.

Mirdthestrill: I would've posted this story when I finished it last Thursday, but I got sidetracked and left my computer behind in the morning, like an idiot.

The Face Merchants - Part III - one thing popped up (more than the others) as I read - you think or you know?! Anyway, great characterisation and showing the difference between gifted amateurs and professionals.

Failure: Aww, I'm a cold-hearted b@stard, and that made me feel sorry for her. Great use of emotion.

Seasons - I like the slow revelation of Eyrie learning about Orgus and Bela's relationship, and her justifiable anger over the hypocrisy of it, especially how it ends. very reminiscent of the Eisner award winning Superman: a man of all seasons. As an aside, I like the idea of a single story spread over multiple spoilers to denote time passing, it's so much better than simply using

Giving it everything - yeah, I wish I could say intelligence pulling that kind of stunt surprises me. Great characterisation in Brynn, how she will compromise principles, but not every last one to be a great agent. It's a great pre-game story for a cipher (though I have a sneaking suspicion at one point you said she wasn't C9). Either way, great story.

Dogedandolo - Is enjoy the wrong word to describe Ashara's desperation? If not, I enjoyed that, and how you had her go pretty much everywhere, even to her master's hated former owner for help.

Astrocytosis - Ah Imperial Bureaucracy, the most impenetrable wall in the galaxy, unless you're a Sith. I liked how close you have the warrior's crew be with each other: they seem the most interactive of all the classes. I also liked the garden, its ordered contrast with the semi-tame jungle outside.

Toatokua: good job on the writing, it's really improved (to the point where some veterans on here can't recognise you from your earlier works . Let's see

Time to Rise - I liked that you've thought about the effects of cold on cybernetics. The tech is designed for flesh after all. Also, really liked the first person stream of consciousness approach, but that's not entirely surprising, given my own works.

the Toymaker - so, the agent has a soft side, and Vector [aka the walking security breach, transmitting everything he sees, hears and thinks to millions, if not billions of beings] guards it . Not too sure Lokin would be so overt as to get caught though. still, great expansion of a starting mystery. On an unrelated note, have you heard about J.J. Abram's mystery box method of storytelling?

the things we lose and the things we find - I liked the way you folded Jugg and Mara into one outlander, and I really felt for the stolid sacrifice he made for his cousin. Great job!

Yoshiralphelan - great setup for a resistance, or perhaps the beginning of a rebellion. I liked how Nox, the only one not related in one way or another, isn't 'drinking the coolade' (coolaid?)

"spring" cleaning - pretty sure I read a real world story about a guy who used a flamethrower to clear out a nest of spiders from the property he rented (and it's a Florida story, so you know how it ends) hopefully, Dha's efforts won't turn out the same way.

Feldraeth - hang on, that's me.

Get on with it, you cheesy hack. Finish some of those multi-parters you started over the last year! some of them haven't been touched for 6 months

Almostinsane - wow, darkly poignant. nice work with the use of the Oricon storyline to emphasise the point, and using Vette for it (given her snarky dialogue lines starting with 'Y'know, I have a terrible fear of dying [insert relevant condition eg before I make a million credits when entering the promenade]) .

Oliverthefighter - of all the characters to sing that precise song, the SI is definitely the best. Shame about the tune

It was dark by the time we finally got to the vehicle depot outside the Balmorran arms factory and the first thing the kid did was check his mail. I know right. Personally, I’d have grabbed something to eat, maybe found the showers and then hunkered down in the commander’s bunk. What, it’s not like he can object or anything: working alongside a Sith has its benefits. Instead of doing any of that, he started reading through his mail, all because he got a holo-prompt that someone had a message for him.

“Uh, Vette?” he asked quietly, and his tone made me curious. The kid was almost dangerously loud about everything, so what could make him drop his voice to almost a whisper?

“Yeah?” I asked, padding close. A billion worst-case scenarios played in my head. The emperor woke up and wanted one cute twi’lek for a breakfast snack; Baras had fired the kid and was sending some Sith lord Psycho to reclaim me; the governor just declared open season on all uncollared twi’leks: those were just a few of the fears chomping through my heart.

“What’s ‘spoils of war’?” Wait, that’s it? I almost laughed in relief: here I was thinking something terrible had happened, like the soldiers had enslaved all of Min’s people or something, and it was because he didn’t get a phrase.

“Uh, the credits or goods you take from someone you defeated.” I explained, unsure why he asked. Hadn’t he seen me go through the pockets of pretty much everyone we killed?

“So it’s like tribute, but from dead people?” he asked, and I could hear the concern in his voice.

“It’s more a one-time thing, and they don’t have to be dead,” I quickly corrected. Not sure what he’s on about, but I think the galaxy’ll thank me for clearing that one up. Last thing we all need is another powerful Sith who kills everything to see what’s in their pockets.

“Okay, good.” He noted way too quickly to be casually. Okay, what did it say? I glanced over his shoulder and read the message.

Dear Roan, apprentice to Darth Baras,

I am pleased to report that the resistance base you ordered garrisoned has already proven invaluable in protecting Troida’s interests. As is usual during the renovation of captured bases, extraneous assets were sold, the proceeds going towards relieving the capital cost of the base setup. In this instance, spoils of war were recovered, and as you were the one who cleared the base, the men and I feel you should have a share of the taking. Please find attached a credit transfer slip to the amount of five thousand and forty nine credits and remember the men of the 198th when you go on to glory.

With honour and duty,

Lieutenant Leorick Larbec, 198 Infantry Battalion

Like it said, there was a tab containing creds, a whole lot of them. I felt my mouth water at the prospect, being able to pay off debts and maybe get some nice gear. The kid ignored them and closed the message. Uh, what?

“You know they sent you credits in that message, right?” I asked, noticing that there were at least nineteen other messages, all read, all with credit transfer stamps by the side. Some were approaching the thirty-day deletion limit. Oh, wow. He doesn’t.

Now that I think about it, I’ve been with the kid for the last month and in all that time, I’ve never seen him buy anything. He doesn’t steal stuff, or not so I’ve noticed, but he generally relies on Baras for the things he needs. On the few occasions he’s been without something vital, like food or somewhere to stay, I usually bought it with the cred sticks I’ve uh ‘claimed as spoils of war’. Yeah, that can’t keep going on, not if I ever plan to get free and head back to Nar Shaddaa. Hutts aren’t all that nice to cute twi’leks that owe them money and can’t pay it back.

“If you want, I can show you how to transfer them into your bank account.” Everything went quiet, except for soldiers marching in the mud, the thrumming of an arriving shuttle, the steady twanging chost from the nearby turbolasers - okay, the kid went quiet. He stayed like that for a while too, like he was thinking something over.

“I don’t have one, I’m not old enough,” he finally admitted.

Okay, now I know that’s plain untrue. I joined Nok’s crew when I was about his age, and they set me up with a bank account. Sure, there were loads of legal limitations on it, but I could and did earn money and use the payment function.

“Maybe imperial banks don’t, but I know of at least three independent ones that have junior accounts. If we catch a shuttle back to Sobrik, we might get to a bank before it closes.” His face fell. Yeah, I know. I’m not a fan of the big metal city either, but that’ll be where the banks are.

“Can’t you take it into yours?” I stopped moving, taking a bit of time to order my thoughts. I- I could, take his money I mean, and keep it in my accounts. Sure, it wasn’t exactly going to gain a lot of interest on anything, but a little is better than nothing. Who knows, it’s not like he’ll ask for it, or remember he has it, and he does use my money for everything Maybe I could take a little off the top, y’know, for services and all. I slowly but surely put a lid on that line of thought. Kneeling beside him, I looked right into his big expressive green eyes. Stars, I couldn’t do that to the kid.

“Roan, you can never ask that of people, kay,” I told him quietly, “Sure, some people would love to take fifty kay off you, but when you want it back, they’ll suddenly disappear.”

“But you’re not like that,” The kid stated, with a quiet certainty. It was… I don’t know, encouraging I guess, that someone had such steadfast faith in me, but I don’t know.

“I’d like to think so, but all that money’d be a real temptation, y’know.” He wiggled his head. Figures, bet he’s never been on the GTN either. It didn’t matter either way: I can’t hold his money, even if I wanted to. I’m a slave. Oh joys of Imperial law. Property can’t hold property.

“I can’t hold it. I’m property, remember,” I reminded him, offering him a weak smile. His mouth wobbled a bit. He’s been like this since Rylon’s kid. I don’t know, maybe seeing his love for his father just reminded him of what he never had.

Sometimes I forget just how young he is. Sure, he’s this whirling and leaping blur in a fight, but outside the surety of battle, he’s just a kid, and he hasn’t exactly had a happy childhood. he’s never said anything, but anyone that young who’s skilled with a lightsaber and force powers but so helpless in non-combat has been raised to be a weapon, not a person. Slowly, I lean forwards and he buried his chin on my shoulder. His arms snaked back, under my lekku. I ignore the phantom caress over the inside of my leg as he wrapped both arms against the tender back of my neck. It still smarted where the prongs had stabbed into flesh

“It’s not fair,” he grumbled into my ear cone petulantly. No kidding. If I had a say in it, I’d be free.

“You said it.” I agreed, wrapping my arms around his back. I found myself patting his back gently. We stayed like that for a while, a single soft point amid the harshness of the camp. Yeah, I can see it now: Twi’lek and child, amid a war-torn tableau, by Ravvio Ravisharucci.

“Okay, we can’t put it off any longer,” I eventually murmured into his ear. He made a quiet whimpering so soft I’m sure only I could just hear it and eased off my shoulder. I ignored the phantom caresses running down both legs as his arms slid free. I stood up, glancing around at the base personnel. We needed transport, and we wanted it now. I saw a haughty looking human in a scruffy-looking flight uniform. He’ll do nicely.

“Hey, pilot guy!” I called to the dark-skinned man I’d spied, “How’d you like to take us to Sobrik right away?” He straight up ignored me. I tapped the kid’s shoulder. The pilot came sliding over to us on his back, leaving a streak of mud in the dirt path. I stopped his skid, placing a boot on his shoulder. His eyes went everywhere before focussing on my leg

“Wanna try again?” I asked sweetly. My eyes were anything but.

* * *

Quinn met us by the spaceport speeder-rank and huffily guided us to the bank. It’d surprised me, since we hadn’t called him or anything. Guess the jerk was watching us, piggybacking a surveillance satellite or something. Turns out, he needn’t have bothered: we’d walked right past it a couple of times over the last week.

Yeah, we just had to go down the stairs to the spaceport plaza, take the stairs on the right just before the entrance to the military complex and then it’s the first building on the right. There’s even a sign. Quinn didn’t follow us in, instead choosing to wait outside. I suspect he’ll march back to his post after a few minutes. Jerk seems way too stiff, even for an imperial.

Inside, it looked pretty much like every other bank in the galaxy. Some fancy green black stone lined the countertops, with another making up the floor and a third used for the pillars. I think the third was a marble, or maybe a granite. I don’t know: who cares about stones anyway. They were there for one thing: to tell everyone how wealthy the bank was. The reinforced transparisteel atop the durasteel counters dissuaded people from trying to take it by force. A line of cubicles stretched along the far wall, where the less important or simply expendable people worked.

A guy peeled off from one of the cubicles. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, with brown hair slicked back and a closely clipped beard that hugged his lips and jawline. He wore an immaculate faux-military styled uniform, one that gave Quinn a run for best dressed on Balmorra, though he didn’t hold himself so stiffly. A keen intelligence shone through his ice-blue eyes, though exhaustion dulled their gleam. For some reason, he reminded me of that cipher we’d met on Kaas: no idea why though.

“Welcome to the Balmorran main branch of the Imperial Bank. How may I assist you,” the greeter welcomed with a cheery but obviously rehearsed tone. The rest of him looked like he would fall over any moment. Guess he’d been up since the bank opened. I bit down on the sarcastic comment that sprang to my lips. Yeah, I know: but look at him, he’s pretty much dead on his feet.

“We’re looking to set up a bank account,” I explained. The greeter nodded and glanced back, at one of the cubicles. Seeing it was empty, because really, what wasn’t at this time of day, he gestured at it.

“We can do so from over here. All I need is for you to answer some personal questions, show some form of identification and proof of address, and a waiver from your sponsor or master citing their permission for you to possess an account.” He paused, glancing down at the kid for the first time, “I’m afraid if he is your master, you will need the waiver to come from his legal guardian.

“Uh no, the kid’s after the account, not me,” I clarified.

“Ah, in that case the waiver must come from his legal guardian.” Right, yeah, we can totally do that. No idea who it is, Ragate, I guess, or maybe Baras. Maybe the kid knows?

“You got any of that?” I asked Roan. He slowly reached into his T-shirt and fished out a small pendant with an optical drive on it.

“Medical records and buyer-metrics,” Huh, I thought he’d never used- oh, Biometrics, “do they count?”

“Certainly, proof of address?” he asked, his tone business-polite. I piped up. The kid mentioning he didn’t have an address, or asking what an address was, might kill the whole thing.

“He’s Darth Baras’ apprentice, so his address is pretty much the ship,” I explained. The greeter’s eyes flashed wide and his everything stiffened.

“Of course, my lord. In that case, I’ll require the ship’s registration. I fished my holo out of my pocket and tapped it a couple of times. I’d written it down, because what kind of loser memorises thirty-two number sequences, apart from Quinn? Okay: misc, notes, last fortnight, there it is. Wow, we’ve only had the ship for a week and a bit. I knew that on some level but it feels like ages ago since we were on Kaas. Still, I wouldn’t go back if I could help it. The greeter typed it into his terminal.

“May I ask you some questions my lord? They are necessary in order to set up your account.” The kid, who’d been silent till now, kept it up, nodding slightly.

“Given Name?”

“Roan.” The greeter’s hands flicked over the haptics with the ease of familiarity. He must’ve used a lot of terminals during the day.

“Family Name?” The kid paused, eventually looking up at me. I gestured at the greeter. It’s okay to tell him. Hey, if you don’t have one, just use the place you were born or a parent’s name.

“Ragate,” he lied. Okay, so I don’t know for sure it’s a lie, but I really doubt it. I guess she might count as family to him though that’s a scary thought. So, my time with my family was far from perfect, but Mom never tried to poison me: broke Tivva’s nose once, before an auction, but nothing else.

“As Baras’ apprentice, you’re obviously Sith,” the greeter mused to no one in particular, “and we’re almost done.” He smiled at the kid, and then looked up at me. The smile dropped.

“Could you please leave us a moment, he needs to set up his password and security questions,” the greeter asked in a politely formal way that didn’t say ‘leave us alien trash’, on any level. I knew the sentiment was totally there. I glowered at him

“I’ll be around the corner,” I told Roan, “just in case.” I left the last part hanging, leaving the greeter to wonder exactly what I meant: and Rish always said I couldn’t play mind games.

I stalked out of the cubicle, leaning against one of the fancy grey-white stone walls. I watched it intently, straining my hearing to pick up everything. What? The kid’ll forget them. While doing so, I noticed the stone had a pattern in it, like lines of shiny… crystal I guess. The lines stretched along the slabs, with occasional kinks and little wiggles, like they’d been squashed together by something massive. The patterns occasionally bobbed out around big square shaped crystals, in a way that looked a bit like eyes. The square crystals were a pinky-white on the outside, with dark spots forming crosses from the points of the squares.

Someone padded over to me. Glancing back, I saw it was the kid. I must’ve gotten distracted looking at the stone patterns. Great, now when he loses or forgets his passwords, we’ll have to come back and… I noticed the piece of flimsiplast in his hand. I guess the greeter had thought of that too.

“Hey, c’mon, I’ll show you how to sync it up to your mail account,” I offered padding over to the mail terminal over by the far wall. He strolled along beside me and signed into the mail terminal. Reaching over, I tapped the top left corner, of the haptic, flicked down until I spotted the payment function, and double clicked it. It flashed up a request for account number, sorting code and unique identifying value.

“All these are on the piece of flimsiplast he gave you. Do you wanna plug them in?” I asked. A small sheet of flimsi bobbed in front of the display. Okay, I guess not. I took the sheet, opened it and plugged in the numbers. I got it all right first time. Folding the sheet, I handed it back to him. He didn’t take it.

Oh come on Roan, it’s not like I’m handing you some onerous chore. You’ll need a bank account to live in the galaxy, so why can’t you just. I stopped. Realisation hit me like a transport. I’ve lived on or around Nar Shaddaa for most my adult life. Credits are a way of life to me, but he’s only just entered the real world. Before then, he never needed it.

You know how the Jedi never need credits because they all live as ascetics. Turns out some Sith are no different. What I know to be vital might mark the end of that life for him, but he can’t be an ascetic any more, not if he wants to live in the real world. He was Sith, but he was also a kid being forced into an adult’s world. Yeah, it’s vital to have an account, but kids don’t need the worry of where money comes from, or the day to day details of everything.

I also realised that I was forcing him. Yeah, it’d help him in the long term, but if I made the choice for him, he’d resent me for it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but some day he’d consider today the day his childhood died, at my hands. This had to be his choice. I pocketed the flimsi.

I tapped on a few buttons, bringing up every message with credits attached.

“Okay, here it is, time to choose. You see the green credit symbol? Push that and they’ll pay into your new account. The red cross will close the tab, and you can do whatever you want with it. I’ll be outside if you need-.”

He jabbed the display and just like that, the kid became fifty thousand credits wealthier.

“Okay, that’s done. Can we get a hotel now?” what? Hotel? What did he mean by-, Realisation slapped me across the face. At this rate, it’ll leave a bruise. He wasn’t hesitating, it was past dusk and he’d running around all day. Yeah, I guess it could’ve waited until morning. I gestured to the door and we walked out, into the crisp Sobrik night: one hotel, coming right up.

It was still dark when I heard the padding footsteps of someone barefoot approach my bed. Without opening my eyes, I reached out with my senses. Ashla told me everything I needed to know. It was Nadia, my padawan. Normally, I found her youthful exuberance and childlike wonder endearing. Right now though, I just wanted her gone.

“Wake up master,” Nadia pleaded, her voice lilting through the air. I wriggled in my snug, warm bedding. It felt like I had just closed my eyes for only a second. Part of me knew it had been longer, a couple of hours perhaps. I wanted her to go, to leave me in the lavish bed’s embrace but I put the thought aside. It might be important.

“What is it Nadia?” I grumbled. I am not a morning person, and I am rarely pleasant before meditation or a cup of caf. I know my addiction to caf is an attachment impeding true communion to the force, but it is necessary. I have many responsibilities, many duties both in the Order and on Coruscant, and there usually is not enough time for an hour’s meditation every morning.

“It’s almost sunrise,” she squeaked, her voice practically thrumming with excitement. Padding taps told me she was dancing from foot to foot. While I do love sunrise on worlds new or familiar, one had to get up early to see them. Usually, this is not an issue, but we arrived very late last night. I considered telling my all too cheery Padawan to go away. I really wanted to, but self-indulgence is not the Jedi way. Instead, I forced my eyes open, bringing a hand up to brush away sleep.

“Is sunrise part of Karimas?”

“Karimas begins at sunrise, and doesn’t end until nightfall.” Well, that settled it. I was here to observe and report upon the Sarkhai custom. I would be remiss if I were to miss the start. I muttered an impolite word under my breath and hauled myself out of the lap of luxury.

Air bit my bare chest as I sat up. It wasn’t cold by any stretch, but the bed had been snug and perfectly warm. The air couldn’t hope to match it.

“C’mon, it’ll begin any minute,” she badgered, excitement thrumming through the force. A Jedi shouldn’t crave excitement.

“Nadia, remember yourself,” I chided gently.

“Sorry,” she quavered. With slow, deliberate movements, she pressed her hands together. She drew in a deep breath, completing the meditative circle, and I felt the force she had unintentionally gathered flow from her.

“Right, what is the typical attire for Karimas?” I asked once she was calm enough to be patient.

“It doesn’t matter. Most people wear their nightclothes for the start. The point is to be awake and present for the start.

I asked Ashla to pass me the white stole hanging over the back of a chair. It flew over. I wriggled my arms down the sleeves, and then got up, letting gravity pull the gown down over my bare legs. I normally sleep in it, but this world is warmer and more humid than any I have ever been to before. Nadia watched me rise from the bed, fidgeting with a shoulder strap. Even in the pale predawn light filtering through the window, I could see the nape of her neck in profile, slender and vulnerable. I padded over to the wardrobe and drew out my coat.

“All right, show me where it begins.” Nadia shot off, like a racer in a holo-vid. I shook my head at her youthful exuberance, slid my coat on and followed. Nadia was younger and a taller than I, but the force is my ally, and I am familiar with its ways. I kept pace with her with graceful, leaping paces, until we reached the veranda.

Skidding to a stop, Nadia gently opened the gold filigree and glass doors - no not transparisteel, actual glass. Passing through them, she held them for me. I smiled at how Felix always rushed to do the same, now a bittersweet memory. Passing through, I saw people on the large stone balcony down a flight of sweeping marble stairs. We must have come up this way last night, though then it had been too dark to see the tree dominating the centre of the courtyard below.

It stood in the exact centre of the circular square, its roots nestled in a hollow surrounded by whirling patterns on the mosaic floor. It was tall, easily nine metres high, and opened up like a multi-layered flower, with upturned leaf-shaped branches beneath a large bulb. The bulb was large enough that it looked like it should sway the tree in the slightest breeze, yet it stood fast. Morning dew glistened off its razor tipped branches. Several packages nestled beneath, wrapped in bright red, yellow and gold sheaths.

I headed down the staircase, its rich carpet brushing my bare feet. Nadia kept herself from running across the top and sliding down the balustrade, barely. She walked down the steps with me, unconsciously gathering the Force once more. We had worked on this for almost a year, yet she had reverted to her untrained self. It’s good she can return to the innocence of childhood so readily, but her training had a purpose, to keep her from unconsciously lashing out with her strong affinity to the force.

I placed a hand on her forearm. I know the classic gesture is on her shoulder, but that would have been difficult and obvious: Nadia is almost a third of a metre taller than me. The effect was the same. She glanced at me, noticed her accrued force and repeated her ritual, releasing the Force.

We reached the bottom of the staircase and walked across the cold, slightly pr1ckly stone floor. Now that we were closer, I could make out some of the people on the lower balcony.

I knew the King and Queen. We’d met before, though not under the best of circumstances. I had met Lady Tomisa the night before, a tall, stern-looking woman whose arms my padawan had leapt into upon our arrival last night. I knew she was not her mother. Tobas once mentioned his wife died giving birth to Nadia. There were three other adults, a man roughly my age and an elderly couple, likely the Queen’s parents.

Her Royal Highness, Lady Tomisa and their mother also wore white gowns over their nightclothes. The Grandfather wore a long flowing robe of white, over a nightshirt and a pair of night-trousers, with matching white slippers. The other man, whom I have yet to meet, wore a pair of loose linen trousers that did nothing to hide his… -uh, bulge and amazingly firm buttocks. Did he work out, there’s no way they could be that pert without – there is no passion, there is serenity. I repeated the mantra a few dozen times, until the flames of desire smouldered down to embers. The king wore a similar pair of trousers, though better cut to hide such things, as well as his sash of office over his otherwise bare chest.

There were five children present: three boys and two girls. One of the boys was roughly Nadia’s age, while another was perhaps in his mid-teens. Both wore white trousers and sashes similar to their father’s, the princes I assume. The youngest boy was perhaps five or six, and jabbered to the two girls. Both were younger than Nadia, one perhaps fourteen, the other twelve. Both wore smaller copies of their mother’s gown. On them though, they looked more like the sacrificial offerings than nightwear.

“Ah, Nadia, you’ve finally arrived. I trust your mentor didn’t give you too much trouble,” Lady Tomisa asked, her tone stern though I could see the warmth in her eyes. She was a tall woman, at a height with the king. Though age had left faint lines through her pale complexion, she still possessed a youthful round face. I bowed my head to her in way of greeting. What I had thought to be solely Nadia’s excitement appeared to have infected everyone present. Even though I was invited, I felt like an outsider intruding on a very personal celebration.

The sun rose, the halo of its blue light casting shadows across the western side of the courtyard. The tree cast the longest shadow, reaching beyond the western wall and bathing everything beneath in blue-grey shade. Then I noticed the faint lights surrounding the courtyard I’d mistaken as speeder markers weren’t.

The mansion had been aligned so that the midsummer sun passed overhead at midday, turning the whirling mosaic into a sundial. It was amazing in its simplicity, but also its complexity. Like all Sarkhai cities, this one was subterranean, having developed from vaults and shelters. However, it was far more recent, and stepped out from the walls of a canyon. It mostly catered for visitors to the jungle world, though at this time only a handful of visitors crammed into the city were extra-planetary. The light played across the courtyard mosaics, and I felt a shift in the mood of the courtyard and across the entire city. Karimas had begun.

Nadia, the princes and her siblings charged, running, vaulting and in the older girl’s case, tumbling down the stairs. I started for her, in case the others trampled her in their zeal, but she rolled on her feet, sprinting after the others. They delved beneath the tree, sliding and slipping beneath those spiny branches, scooping up the packages. Despite the apparent chaos, it seemed there was some unseen order to it all. The children retrieved every package from under the tree within a minute and began setting them out in little piles.

“It’s good you brought Nadia back for this, Master Barsen’thor,” The King mused, a wry smile on his face, “The others are too young to remember that we’ve not always been royals and let my sons win everything.”

“Yes, Nadia has always been competitive,” Lady Tomisa announced, pride ringing clear in her tone. Any doubts I had that she was Nadia’s mother were washed away by that. Biological or not, she cared for her adoptive daughter unlike any other.

I turned back to the ordered chaos below and felt my eyebrows rise. Nadia and the others were stripping off nightclothes. It was surprising how relaxed they were about nudity, even the younger children. I would have expected some of those just entering puberty to be more conscious about their bodies. I know I certainly had been at that age.

“Surprised?” Lady Tomisa asked, and I could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Republic Media is typically more conservative, few would react favourably to what your children are doing in public,” I answered diplomatically. While many in the senate would decry their actions as scandalous, especially for a royal family, more just wouldn’t care or see a problem. Unfortunately, the media tends to listen to their rich core-world owners, who would be morally outraged or pretend to be for a story. After all, who reads about an unusual custom among a practically unheard of people, but if it’s an opinion piece, complete with pictures of naked princesses...

“Yes, we’ve seen and heard as much, Master Jedi. We do get the holonet.” The Queen remarked; a sardonic smile etched on her face. I blinked. How did she know what I was think-, oh, she was talking about popular conservative news sites.

Just as quickly, they started pulling on their gifts, rugged clothes in greens and browns. If anything, they looked like half-naked wilderness ramblers. The boys all wore rugged camouflage trousers and boots, with leatheris mantles and armbands. The princes added their sashes over their bare chests. The girls, Nadia included, wore rugged, calf-length skirts over combat boots, and hooded mantles with tops that showed off their midriffs. All of them, save Nadia and the littlest boy, carried slender metal poles, the ends bulging out. A trio of metal prongs tipped the top, electricity playing between them.

“They look as if they are about to head into the wilderness,” I deduced to no one in particular.

“They are. Tell me Master Jedi, are you married?” Lady Tomisa asked, her tone frank, almost blunt.

“Excuse me,” I buffered, reeling from the personal question.

“Are you married? It affects whether you go out to watch them or stay at the palace.” Okay, I am unsure where this custom leads, but it seems different groups have different roles.

“Jedi eschew attachments as they can influence our judgements and distract us from serving the force so, no. I am not married,” I answered truthfully, hiding behind the classic response. I wasn’t comfortable talking about Felix yet. They smiled at me, knowingly. I got the sudden, uncomfortable sensation that they knew exactly what I hadn’t said: this must be how it feels talking to Jedi. I’ll have to ask Tharan or Zenith about that, but later.

“In that case, these are for you,” the King offered, turning to gesture behind us. A silver protocol droid of a model I didn’t recognise ambled through the glass doors, a tray in its hands. On the tray was a set of the hunter’s gear and boots, without the spear, or mantle.

Nadia came bursting up the stone steps, leaping into her Lady Tomisa’s arms, planting a kiss on each cheek.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you. I’d thought, no. I’ll head upstairs, grab a few things and be right back,” she buzzed, practically glowing with elation. While there is no emotion, there is peace; we are not droids. Nadia needed joy far more than the galaxy needed Jedibot #2,435,547. She flitted past, an eddy caught in her wake. I turned back to the royal family, to find them all staring at me.

“Well, put them on, I want to be sure the fit is right,” the Queen commanded. I am their guest, observing their customs. Slowly, I picked up the skirt, turned from the royal crowd and slipped it on under my gown. A deep bass chuckle echoed behind me, the until-now silent other man at the gathering. The chuckle became a ‘whumph’ and Lady Tomisa chided,

“Piran, don’t be cruel. She’s not from around here, and doesn’t share our values on nudity.”

“I know, that’s why it’s funny,” the deep voice purred.

Sinking into Ashla’s embrace, I wreathed myself from view. The world became more vibrant, every sound crisp every smell fresh. That was less of a boon this close to the jungle but the alternative was going topless before the Sarkhai royal family. Shucking my gown, I snatched the half-tunic and pulled it over my head. Tugging it over my head, I felt the tent-like top dr@pe over my upper chest. How could any woman run, let alone fight or hunt, in this? Granted, I will never be voluptuous, but even I felt uncomfortable in it. How would someone as endowed as Master Lucida, or Admiral Noctaire for that matter, cope?

Nadia came back out, a faint sheen on her brow. Clipped to her belt was her lightsaber, and she had my one and my amulet focus in her hands. She passed them to me and I slid it over my head. The little crystal, taken from the heart of the dread palace on Oricon, rested above the join in my collarbones. I clipped my lightsaber to the tab on the belt.

I felt hands on my chest. My own went for my lightsaber as I reached for Ashla’s embrace. I saw it was Nadia and stopped. She probably had a good reason. At least, she had better have a good reason for this. She shifted her hands and I felt little slips of fabric shift around from my lower back to rest beneath my breasts.

“Master, it was on back to front,” she whispered, glancing over my shoulder at her family, “the straps slip underneath and hold them steady.” Then she darted away down the staircase, re-joining the other children. I subtly slid the straps where she suggested and- wow. They must have some elastic material in them, because I felt incredibly secure, secure and buoyed up.

“Are you ready to go, Master Jedi?” Lady Tomisa asked from behind me. I turned and saw her wear the same attire as her daughters. I had not noticed her change: it must have happened while my back was turned. I nodded.

* * *

The smell of rust and oil permeated the large metal room. A slow, rhythmic ticking chunk filled the air while eddies and gusts billowed around everyone. Ashla enhanced my senses as I balanced cross-legged on the railing. The lift was as slow and steady as the sound, a deep rumble that seemed to come more from the planet itself than a mechanism.

It was hard to think that the mechanisms involved must have been millennia old. Don’t get me wrong, I have used the millennia old transporters on Belsavis, but that was advanced technology. Here, everyone’s weight was resting on gears that had been ancient before the discovery of first Sith Empire. I glanced around, looking to allay my concerns.

Nadia and her adoptive siblings were huddled together, talking quickly and quietly. I didn’t need Ashla’s whispers to tell me they were excited for what was to come. A Jedi does not crave excitement, an old lesson Master Vega imparted in me decades ago. Yes, it is true and fair, but they were children, the only Jedi among them being Nadia. She deserved some time simply being herself, without the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders.

Looking around, I saw many more children of all ages, ranging from some no older than six to others older than Nadia. A few adults joined them, men and women. Most were young, perhaps in their early to mid-twenties, though a few were in their fifties to seventies. The only unifying factor was their attire. Everyone wore the same abbreviated hunter’s gear. Most of the adults carried long barrelled rifles, a strap allowing them to be slung over a shoulder. Lady Tomisa stood with the adults, gathered around the raised central podium, where splayed shafts of faint blue light illuminated the elevator.

She surveyed her people, and spoke. She wasn’t loud, demanding their focus, but once she’d begun, they all fell silent, one by one. She began slow, tension building with every word, like all great storytellers.

She told a story of how the first settlers came to the Jungle world, how their ship was damaged, stranding them here. She told how they had survived for centuries, technology and culture degrading into tribalism and barbarism. Then she told of the slaughter. A being, monstrous and cruel, took samples from the deadliest beasts on the planet and from them fashioned the night predators. She told how the night predators had ravaged the tribes, taking time to recall the suffering and those lost to the beasts’ fangs.

Then, once everyone’s attention was rapt with her words, she told how some tribes, now called nations, found their way down into the earth. These new vault dwellers hid away from the beasts, and suffered for it. Their skins became ash, their rich iridescent eyes fading to a grey blue. They became the Sarkhai, the children of the vault cities and inheritors of the untamed Jungle. They developed weapons, defences to make the Galaxy take note. Moreover, the Galaxy had. Aliens, weird and wonderful came. Some offered peace and acceptance while others brought threats of War. Ah, that was where I came in. I stood, focussing upon her words, to know when I would have to reveal my presence. She surprised me. She didn’t mention any Jedi at all.

“Today, on this longest of days, you will head out and explore. Learn about the world that birthed you, and be happy. Just remember not to stray far. While the night predators should be sleeping in their lairs, we cannot be sure they won’t pop out to feast on the tender flesh of children.” Nervous chuckles and denying laughter filtered through the elevator, replacing the steady ticking. We had arrived at the top of the shaft.

The doors rumbled open, harsh white light blinding everyone, bar Nadia and me. I saw a forest unlike any I’ve seen before. The trees were more wide than tall, forming egg-like bulbs, supported on thick roots that stretched down into the marshy ground. Leafy branches spread into a canopy fifteen metres up. Around the root-trunks were countless types of plants, from familiar looking ferns to some so bizarre I could not put them into words. Everything sang with the light side.

Animals were there, strange long-tailed creatures that looked like a cross between felynxes and the more canine aspect of a mooka crawled through the trees. Winged mammals flapped from branch to branch, bulbous heads snapping at the air around them, seemingly without purpose, though I could feel them in the force. It was searching for food, using the shockwaves to disrupt small insects.

Everyone’s eyes adjusted to the bright daylight and children burst out of the elevator, followed by their watchers. Their haste was quelled though, for the muddy, root-infested ground would break an ankle as surely as a blow to its side. Nadia and the elder prince guided their younger siblings away, to where they thought exciting and new to explore.

Lady Tomisa followed sedately, looking around more for a companion than as a sentinel. I padded over to her, as quietly as one can be in combat boots, and slipped out of Ashla’s embrace. The world lost its vibrancy, its edge as if returned to a world of merely coloured lights. She smiled at my approach, and we walked for a time, nothing said, just enjoying the relative peace.

“How is my daughter faring, with her training, I mean?” she eventually asked, breaking the not-quite silence. I paused, considering my answer.

“She’s powerful, more so than anyone her age, but she’s progressing slowly, which is to be expected.”

“How so?”

“She doesn’t have the cultural background or has spent her life training her mind,” I answered as diplomatically as I knew how. It’s not that her father or stepmother didn’t do everything they could for their daughter: simply put, they didn’t even know about the Jedi, or life on other worlds until Nadia was almost eleven. I believe Lady Tomisa took it the way I intended.

“And you trained from childhood?”

“My mother is a Jedi, I’ve always known I would be a Jedi, and I’ve had instruction in the right kinds of meditation since I could understand words. It’s as much a part of my culture as my markings,” I answered, vaguely gesturing at my face. Lady Tomisa nodded sagely, a hand unconsciously brushing her own.

“Is there anything I can do to help her?” she asked quietly, and I caught the silent weight in her words. She would do anything for her adoptive daughter, as much as for any of her own biological children.

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here. If I find a shared culture, she will have some frame of reference that’s more easily understandable to her.

“If you find anything like that, will she ever control it as you do?”

“Unlikely, we have very different skills and mind-sets. I’m good with the quiet subtler aspects of the force, but she has so much power, it drowns them out. She has to really try to be able to hear them. The things I have trouble with, the gross physical stuff, she can do all day without tiring.” I smiled at the memory of Nadia channelling the force through Master Aleusis’ ice wall, and his surprise at the padawan’s casual power. Stars, that had been almost a year ago.

“But that’s not entirely why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re after more than shared philosophy,” she deduced, a slight scowl bringing two blue lines into contact.

“It’s one reason. The Jedi serve the light side of the Force, the part that values learning and life. A large part of that is seeking out new cultures and learning their ways. The official reason I am here is to observe the Karimas festivities, but any Jedi could serve in that way. The rest is for Nadia, she needed to be home to heal.”

“She’s hurt,” she demanded, her eyes burning with the same fire Nadia flashes in battle. I see where she gets it from, and my Padawan’s is a pale imitation. I, Jedi master and Barsen’thor of the Jedi Order, withered away from that inferno. I didn’t sense darkness pour from her, but in that moment I understood exactly why the institution of the Jedi frowns upon marriage and family. If she had a clear line at whoever hurt her daughter, she would rip it apart with her bare hands. Imagine what she could do with force sensitivity.

“Not physically,” I placated, my hands outstretched pacifyingly, “but we were on Tython when the Sith raided it. She saw people she’d grown to love cut down before her. That kind of thing leaves deep wounds, and in someone so powerful, they could have lasting consequences. I’d prefer she heals here than at the temple.” Lady Tomisa nodded silently, the fire in her eyes dwindling, though not disappearing. Part of me wondered whether she would ever forgive me when Nadia chose to forego her attachment to family. No, I don’t think she would. That fire would be levelled at me someday, but not today. It abated, leaving the towering colossus a frail woman who clutched at her rifle tightly.

Screams erupted from the east. I turned and sprinted eastwards, enveloping myself in Ashla’s embrace. This was thick, dense jungle, much like Yavin only tighter, and with more florae. It would be easy to snag a foot on an exposed root or plant stem, and at this speed, just a sprained ankle was off the table. Wrapped in communion with Ashla though, I knew where to put my feet before it even left the ground. I sprinted through the trees, silent and invisible, until I found the disturbance.

One of the girls, Nadia’s littlest sister had fallen, her boot gone through a rotten log. She’d twisted her ankle in a way that didn’t look natural. The younger prince and her brother were with her, the brother trying to wrench her foot out of the log, despite her screams. The prince didn’t help her. Instead, he was focussed on the threat.

Loping up behind them was a creature halfway between an Lraida and a Sithspawned Tu’kata. It had a long hunched back that bowed it onto all four trunk-like legs. Its paws were ginormous, lined with clawed toes. Tusks lined its fanged mouth, drool slobbering over them.

The prince jabbed it with his electrostaff as the beast closed, the crackle and smoking fur clear signs he’d hit it. They were the only ones. The creature lashed out with its head and snapped the shaft of the electrostaff with its maw. It can stretch its neck: great.

A Jedi does not kill unless there is no other option. Death only serves the dark side, and so every life taken has to be weighed in the balance. If I could just get its attention, I could lead it away. No one and no thing has to die today.

I reached out and touched the creature’s mind. A surge of hunger, pain and desire to feed washed over me. Twisting its hunger, I layered the desire over me and asked Ashla to reveal my presence. The world faded back to mere vibrancy. The beast took the bait, turning to stalk to me. That was when the younger boy left his sister and hit its exposed flank. The beast howled, ignoring my lure and swept its tusks at him. I sprinted towards them, lightsaber snapping to life, staining everything purple. Ashla granted my silent plea for haste and I made it barely in time to scoop up the six year old with my free arm.

Twirling my saber one handed, I dazzled the beast and took one of its tusks as I cleared the clearing, child on my hip. I focussed for the barest of moments, marking the place in my mind as a good place to bring the children. Releasing the boy, I turned and charged back in. Ashla was with me, but I couldn’t be there fast enough. At least the prince could get away, but he stood his ground, staying with his cousin till the last. The beast was going for the girl, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

A ripple in the force was all the warning I got. Cocooning myself in Ashla’s warmth, I bypassed the torrent of power that came hurtling past. Little things, like trees, were caught in its wake as the Force hit the beast with the power of a grav-train. The beast barrelled away, smacking into and through ancient trees. Nadia rushed along her blast’s wake, the golden saber blades lighting the ground around and behind her. She passed the prince, her brother and hurt sister, intent upon the beast who’d harmed her family.

I rushed over to the trapped girl. Opening my cocoon, I wreathed the two of us in Ashla’s embrace, requesting she take us away. The world rushed around us as Ashla opened hyperspace, transporting us to her brother. He gasped as air rushed away from us, displaced by our sudden appearance. The prince arrived as soon as the dense scrub allowed. I unfurled the girl from around me, guiding her down atop a log. Now free from its trap, I could see vicious gashes along her lower leg, pale blood oozing freely.

I withdrew the compact medkit from my coat pocket. I shucked my coat and laid it out under her leg without touching the injury. It limited what went into her wound should she twitch or move, and she would twitch and try to move.

“I’m sorry: this will hurt a little, but the Kolto will help, okay?” she nodded her head, tears flying free with the motion. I started massaging Kolto into the wound. She cried out, but the prince held one hand and her brother the other, keeping her from interrupting me. I completed the grisly task, the little girl’s blood on my hands. I turned to the prince.

“Hold this tight, it’s staunching the blood,” I told him, pointing at the parts of my coat to hold. He did so, putting both hands exactly where I suggested.

Something crashed through the jungle towards us. The girl and her brother cried out in fear. The prince tried to turn, to see the threat coming up behind him, but to do so would mean letting go of my coat. I reached out with my senses. Lady Tomisa crashed through the brush, a vision of wild fury. Her face and body was scratched, some through the Karimas wear, and mud spattered over her, save for her rifle. That was clean, and primed.

Lady Tomisa did as any mother would upon seeing their child hurt. She rushed over to her, as if nothing else in the world mattered. I moved out of the way, lest she plough me out of her way. I didn’t hold it against her. She pressed herself close to her daughter, tears welling in her eyes. I felt wholly inappropriate here, like a trespasser at a birthday party. I turned away, refocussing my phase point beside them, and stalked after my padawan.

I’d gone perhaps a dozen metres when I saw Nadia fly past, a bubble of the force shielding her from the brunt of the branches snapping against it. She hit a tree and I felt the shockwave from her shield collapsing. The beast burst through the treeline, red-black blood seeping from hundreds of wounds, and lumbered at Nadia’s stunned, helpless form.

I grabbed my lightsaber and flung it at the beast. Purple light bathed the twilit clearing once more. Reaching out, I guided the weapon, keeping its spin purely horizontal and slashed at its legs. The beast howled and staggered, but it didn’t collapse. I know my strikes had been true, the blade sinking deep into the muscle at the back of its forward-facing legs and yet, here it was, turning and loping towards me.

How was that even possible? I knew of a few materials that could resist a lightsaber strike, but by and large, they were incredibly dense or dangerously toxic to life. What could possibly-? It loped at me. Stars, get your head out of the clouds before you get people killed. I couldn’t move: behind me was the family.

I closed my eyes, raised my right hand, the side that releases energy, and willed the beast to rise. It may be a behemoth, three times my size, but size doesn’t matter, for the force is my ally, and a powerful one. Ashla heard my request. The beast rose into the air, buoyed by the force. Suspended like that, I saw it was even larger than I had initially assumed, and it was covered with spiky thorns. If I didn’t know better, I’d have sworn it was a Sithspawn, a creature mutated by Sith alchemy. It couldn’t have been though. It was a night predator, a creature that predates the Sith.

The beast howled, a basso rumble that shook leaves from nearby trees, the ones Nadia had left standing. The force is my ally, but she can only act in so far as I can guide her. Force lift was a very energy intensive skill, and I just didn’t have the reserve Nadia had. I could feel it start to fail already. Soon, it would be free, and we would need a more permanent solution.

The force flashed a warning behind me. Instinctively, I reached for my weapon, and turned to see Lady Tomisa standing not three metres away, her rifle aimed right at the struggling beast’s throat. She squeezed the trigger.

The rifle barked, but there wasn’t a flash or pulse. Instead, a small dull red spot splashed on its carapace, and then the shell exploded. I knew Sarkhai weapons were powerful but that was something else. It had to be a particle weapon of some kind, accelerating high explosives to near-light velocities. Whatever it was, it certainly stopped the beast. A large chunk of its throat above the chest plate was just missing, red-black ichor spilling forth.

Lady Tomisa lowered her rifle, a look of grim satisfaction on her pale face. Turning back to her daughter, she drew a small pistol. She wouldn’t!? I was halfway between them when she raised the pistol and fired. Bright light erupted from the weapon, burning through the canopy and exploding in the sky. The effect was almost immediate.

A low buzzing sound I’d discounted as part of the wilderness became louder, and beams of red light highlighted a square on the ground ten metres away. I started towards the red lights, but a hand grabbed my skirt. It was the littlest boy. He shook his head vigorously, babbling something about falling trees.

Then something exploded through the canopy, slamming into the ground with enough force to pulverise whatever was beneath. I see what he means. Crouching down so I was on his level, I bowed my head in thanks. He jumped into my arms, pressing his muddy body against mine.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” I repeated to him as gently as I could. He shook violently, his body crashing from the adrenaline spike. I held him, and prayed for Ashla to bestow a part of her radiance upon him.

A door opened in the ovoid, and a pair of Sarkhai, young and lean with muscle surged out of the dropship. They moved like water, flowing and sweeping over broken trees as they made their way to us.

I turned to see the eldest prince gathered up Nadia, her springy body strangely stiff in his arms. It looked wrong: Nadia was always animated, even when asleep. To see her so still was just... wrong. I hadn’t felt my padawan’s passing, so I knew she must be alive. I hadn’t checked on her after the beast slammed her through the brush. I reached out, and touched her through the force.

I couldn’t sense any pain from her, just a bone-deep weariness. Oh, so that explains it. She had expended her all throwing the beast away from her family, and then played tag with the monster while I cared for her sister. It made sense, in retrospect. I had all the training in first aid: she once put her hand through a CPR dummy.

I turned back to see the medics load the younger daughter into the dropship. Everyone, even the eldest daughter, who had shown up some time in the last few minutes, filed into the dropship, sitting or leaning against the plush seats. One of the medics stayed with Nadia’s sister, while the other headed for a little door at the far end, the cockpit. Repulsorlifts whined and the craft shook as it dislodged itself from the forest. They took us to the nearest medical facility.

* * *

We got back from the medcentre a few hours after noon. Tomisa’s daughter had a cast wound around her wounded leg and a repulsorlift chair, hooked up to a discrete supply of synthplasma. The doctors had given me some dirty looks when they saw my field dressings. I weathered their scorn with serene grace. Battlefield triage is not surgery, it’s not there to heal the wound, only keep the injured alive long enough to get to a real doctor. At least they cleaned and returned my coat, with a far more extensive, and expensive, medpack in the pocket.

While we had waited for the doctors to finish their ministrations, we had watched a film. It was animated, clunky and awkward, as if it were a collection of still images pieced together to form a moving picture. Content wise, it involved a young brother and sister who wondered away from their guardian during the Karimas excursion and discovered an ancient lost city. The voice work had been amazingly well done, making the shoddy animation meaningless against it. In all, it was harmless entertainment, though one thing stuck out. The children had been called Tobas and Nadira, of house Grell.

I hadn’t ever seen Nadia ever pay much attention to the holo: She has always been more interested in participating in things than simply watching. Yet she sat transfixed, even though she must have seen it before. Tears were a blink away from her eyes: I suppose the family resemblance isn’t coincidental. I sat beside her and patted her arm reassuringly. He is one with the Force; he will always be with you.

Upon our return, I found the courtyard filled by a sea of blue lines and curves upon pale canvases. There were hundreds of Sarkhai, from of all ages and walks of life. Courtiers chatted with cleaners, soldiers spoke to scientists and children played between everyone. All wore variations upon the abbreviated hunters’ garb, and though some were clearly cloth affectations, they didn’t look entirely out of place.

Huge fire pits lined equidistant points around the edges of the vast circular courtyard. The closest roared in the ring between the sweeping staircases, bathing the marble with the smoke’s rich, dusky aroma.

Beside the fire pits were metal brackets, each holding smaller racks closer to the flames. These had all manner of meats upon them: I saw burgers, kebabs and cuts of meat of all sizes, though I couldn’t tell what animals any of them came from. I don’t suppose there is a vegetarian option?

The man from earlier worked the racks and spits, the poker and tongs in hand a blur of motion. He moved with a dancer’s grace, the lean muscles of his torso ululating in entrancing ways. Leaning against one of the staircases, admiring his… person was, a human? They had mentioned Piran had a mistress. That must be her.

She wore a long, black dress. It was tight, slinky and showed her cleavage down past her navel and her legs through a pair of slits a sixth of the way around from her front. I will never claim to be particularly fashion conscious but it looked out of place among the relaxed attire of everyone else present, including my own.

The Sarkhai, Nadia included passed her without even a glance. I suppose there is always an outsider in every family. I headed down the stairs and sidled up to her. She turned to view me; her face a neutral mask but haughtiness was so etched into her features even smiling would not rid her of it. Perhaps the Sarkhai had good reason to shun her: I never claimed I had any degree of intelligence.

“Ah, you must be the Jedi Piran’s told me all about,” she purred, her voice liquid Kaas. She was an imperial, and a highborn one at that. I suppose I should have guessed from the dress alone. Only imperials could be so trashy, yet poised.

“Master Cierra, Warden of the Order,” I greeted, nodding my head at her, “and you are?”

“Lady Latessa Vesanira, of the Fels Vesanirae,” she answered cordially, offering me her hand, as I knew she would. I sprung my little trap. I clasped her hand, shaking it whilst giving Ashla time to look at her, and tell me everything.

She had known violence her entire life, from a father disappointed she was not Sith or a son, from her instructors and friends at various boarding schools, and from the military academy. Later, she had the chance to inflict it on others, and she had been good at it, so good they had pulled her into the Diplomatic Service. There, her bearing and social grace had been boons for the empire.

Ashla also told me about the woman herself. Driven, focussed and mercilessly intelligent, she was easily my match in the debating chamber, though she did have one ‘weakness’: a slight fogging of the mind as her body prioritised blood-flow elsewhere. It could have been a two-metre hole on the side of a moon, for all I cared. I wasn’t using that against her.

“And you are the Imperial Ambassador to the Sarkhai?” I asked, acting as though it had simply been a handshake. If she suspected it had been more, she kept her thoughts to herself.

“Once, until his majesty rightly expelled all Imperial envoys after a few overenthusiastic Sith idiots massacred a Sarkhai battalion and threatened the Queen’s life. I had to choose between my home and my lover. It was hardly a difficult one, I assure you.” Okay, the Sarkhai definitely had reason to shun her. That story screamed operative cover to me, and I’m among the few remaining Republic-born Jedi who believe we can redeem Darths.

“Seeing how this is your new home, I’m a little surprised then that you weren’t participating in the Karimas festivities,” I mused,

“Yes, wake up early after a late night; endure seeing my future extended family running around almost, if not outright, naked, all for a sunrise. I think I’ll just stay in bed.” Well, that settled it. She was evil: no one pure and wholesome disliked sunrises.

“Oh, and I was definitely participating in the festive spirit. What do you think the grown up do while the grandparents distract the children?” that was… actually a good question. I had a fair idea, especially given the sultry smile she played with for that last part, but a report on festivities shouldn’t contain supposition and speculation if facts are available.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spied Nadia waving desperately at me, a pair of silvery goblets crooked in her free hand.

“Ah, it appears my padawan seeks my presence for something. I wish the three of you the best in the future,” I bade, conceding the field of this verbal duel. Her brow furrowed as she discerned my meaning. She wasn’t unintelligent, she understood in under a second. Her eyes flashed wide for a brief moment. I turned away and heard a happy little squeak escaped her.

“I take it something’s about to happen,” I stated as I approached my apprentice. She handed me one of the goblets. I held it by the fine handle, bringing it close to my nose. The smell of a sweet sugary juice wafted up, perhaps some variant of blumfruit?

“Not yet,” Nadia hissed, “The Queen’s speech is about to start.” I glanced around the courtyard, and realised that couldn’t see Queen Nyscha anywhere.

“Master,” Nadia hedged, as if trying to figure how to phrase her question in a way that wouldn’t draw my ire, “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing much, spoke to her, wished the three of them well.” Nadia walked beside me, and while I didn’t see her throw an aside glance my way, I certainly felt it.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” I answered, somewhat baffled by her sudden suspicion, “Why? Is there something I should know?”

“They’ve been trying for the last two years.” I glanced over my shoulder, at the couple. He had her hands on her flat stomach, and I could feel their joy even though the crowds of cheer. That made sense. Sarkhai were near-humans, so children between them and humans was possible, but difficult, and not without risks. Without advanced prenatal care to detect and treat defects during the pregnancy, their child might not be with us for long. Silence lingered as I tried to find the right words.

“Speaking of which, some family members were noticeably absent from the wilderness excursion. Are there alternate rituals I should be aware of, in my role as the chronicler of this custom?” Nadia fell silent for some time, a pink tinge flushing her cheeks.

“Well, the sun’s slightly smaller than Coruscant’s so the planet orbits it a little faster. Back before the vault cities, we had to share the surface with the night predators. Summer was safer, with Karimas week being the safest to bear children. Given the way our year works, it’s also the best time to- you know, make children too.”

“I see,” I comprehended, nodding. “So, you said something about a speech?” I asked, trying to change the subject as quickly as possible. Nadia gestured towards the balcony, where holocams buzzed around silently, awaiting the Queen’s appearance. She appeared through the glass doors, gird in her full regalia.

A mantle of purple silks adorned her shoulders, arrayed in such a way as to highlight her regal sash. She wore a long green dress beneath the cloak, intricately embroidered with a silvery trim that emphasised the cream-coloured sash of office. She didn’t have to clear her voice or call for silence. There wasn’t a need. Everyone became so simply because she willed it. For the briefest of moments, I suspected a force technique at play, but there were few practitioners subtle enough to slip by me. The Queen started her Karimas speech.

She had a natural talent, a presence that radiated calm and surety around her. That natural ability had been harnessed, refined and focussed through countless hours of training and practice. It was so admirable I almost didn’t catch a word of the speech. I believe I understood the gist of it.

In short, it was a summary of affairs both planetary and personal. She named and honoured a few people for unusually noble or brave deeds. She reminded everyone to care for those who could not be with them today, for the shackles of duty weigh heavily upon us all, and on a more personal note, recounted an amusing yet incredibly dignified account of her visit to Eiattu 6.

Eventually, the Queen fell silent. The power in that silence was enough to start any number of wars. Slowly and with quiet ceremony, everyone raised their glasses in silent toast. I offered mine up as well, albeit a bit slower. The Queen raised both hands before her, bidding we drink. We did.

It was a sticky, sweet drink, more a porridge of fruit than a fluid. It sluiced into my mouth and I had to fight to keep myself from choking or gagging. Slowly, it made its way over my tongue, and down my throat, coating everything with its sweet, sticky slime. At my side, Nadia took hers in one go, and I noticed her drink was slightly more liquid.

“Sorry master, I should have left those in the fire for longer.” She winced as her eyes scanned for any fluid whatsoever to wash away the mucus. She wasn’t alone. I could see many others quietly seeking the same, and someone had anticipated them. Droids, ovoid with multiple arms mounted on quiet repulsors filtered from above, each carrying multiple trays filled with chalices of a clear solution, water I hope.

I felt Nadia reach out with the force, far strong for a simple lift. If she tried to grab a glass with that, she would crush the droid. I rested my hand on her elbow, in silent encouragement. She relaxed her grip, bleeding away almost all of the energy. With the bare wisps left, she picked up two chalices and floated them down to us.

“Excellently done,” I applauded my padawan, loud enough that those nearby could hear. Nadia beamed at the praise. Taking the glass she offered, I took a sip and found that it was indeed water, though it tasted vaguely of chemicals. Someone rushed up to us, a child I didn’t recognise. She must have been no older than eight, though the smudged lines made her look like a four year-old playing with face-paint for the first time.

“That was the force wasn’t it. You’re a Jedi, aren’t you?” she squeaked, the words spilling into each other in her excitement, “Can you come and play, I know tons of people here who want to meet you and see that.” Ah, the innocence of youth. Nadia glanced at me, asking permission to desert me to the cruelties of cheery revellers. I nodded, releasing her from her duties as my chaperone. I can handle myself well enough. Nadia and the girl vanished into the crowds, and I started making my way around the party.

* * *

The social gathering lasted long into the afternoon, but like all things, it died down. The sun was finally setting, marking an end to the solstice. I had considered retiring for the night, but Nadia insisted I stay: the best part was yet to come. She had returned an hour or two later, once the children’s parents had taken them home, Given their way, my Padawan would have shared tales of her adventures in the wider galaxy until the end of time.

The ovoid droids drifted among the people present, relentlessly offering burgers, kebabs, sausage buns and all manner of meaty meals. Eventually, at my Padawan’s insistence, I submitted to their demands. The burger had been utterly delicious even if I still can’t be sure what the animal was. I’d tried one of the kebabs a few hours later, though that was less spectacular. No, apparently I had made a bit of a spectacle poking myself in the top of my mouth with the skewer.

Now, the sun was setting, casting long shadows that flickered and danced against the flames and swaying tree. The tree was different from what it had been this morning. The bulb had swollen even more, enough that the faint breeze should have sent it crashing down on the revellers beneath.

The talk died away, and I could just about hear a whining hiss. The bulb opened, like an intricately layered puzzle box. Silvery-white petals drifted out from the bulb, up into the evening light sky. They had a metallic sheen that caught the sun, making a river of light rise from the tree, and they were not alone. Looking around, I could see dozens of streams, all rising into the night sky. I felt Nadia’s hand rest in the crook of my arm, and we watched the streams drift up and away, illuminating the darkening night sky.

More to Celebrate

I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed in the last few months. I’d taken command of my own squad, fallen in love and saved the Republic, a couple of times over. Aric and I had even managed to sneak away and elope, after my mother and Chancellor Sarash wanted to turn our wedding into “The Event of the Season.” Ugh!

My twin, K’eegan and her crew mate, Corso had met us on a secluded world. They stood with us on a beautiful beach, next to the ocean as the sunset, while we exchanged our vows and became husband and wife. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of and more importantly I was now married to the man I loved with all my heart and soul.

Now just two months later, our first Life Day celebration as a mated couple, appropriately enough, it seemed I had another surprise for my new husband. I was pregnant and we would soon be welcoming a new life into the world, our two new lives to be exact, twins. I was equal parts happy, shocked, and scared all rolled up into one. We had not been trying and I was on birth control. Apparently the antibiotics I took for a small infection was enough to mess with my contraceptives and now we were expecting.

Elara had confirmed the pregnancy and gone with me to the doctor’s office. They done a scan and found two little peanuts inside, a set of identical twin boys. I think I’m still in shock. I’d kept the secret for a couple of days, making plans for a romantic dinner. I wrapped a copy of the scan showing our children, their first picture, and the positive test and planned on giving it to him tonight.

“K’agan?”

“In here,” I answered, slipping the small present into my small purse I was carrying.

“You ready to,” the words died on his lips and I turned to see Aric silently standing in the doorway. He was wearing a deep forest green long sleeved dress shirt that brought the green in his eyes, dark slacks and black shoes. He looked very handsome and the thought crossed my mind, we didn’t need dinner and I could go straight to dessert.

“What?”

“You’re just,” he stammered, before trying again, “You’re just so beautiful you’re glowing.”

I was wearing a pleated little black dress with a symmetrical V-neck that plunged down between my breasts and showed most of my back. The bottom of the flowing dress touched mid-thigh. I’d skipped hose and was wearing spiked heels. It was incredibly revealing and made me feel sexy. I’d wear it while I still could!

“Breath Aric!” I said when I realized he was still staring at me.

Shaking himself, he reached out and pulled me gently into a hug. “You’re so beautiful. What did I ever do deserve you?”

“Just lucky I guess,’” I retorted, reaching up and pulling his head down, gently kissing him on the lips. The kiss turned hotter, Arci’s tongues slipping between my lips and caressing mine.

“Gods,” Aric mumbled resting his forehead against mine, when we broke apart. “We could just stay here,” he added, nipping my exposed neck. I moaned at the effect he was having on me and I could feel the effect I was having on him pressing against my belly.

Taking a deep breath and step away from my mate, “No,” I managed to say sort of firmly, “People are expecting us and if we don’t show up, they’d just coming looking and that could be embarrassing.”

Smiling, he reached out and pulled me back towards him. Leaning down, he nipped the bottom of my ear and breathily whispered, “Are you sure?” as his hand slipped under the hem of my dress.

‘NO!’ my hormones screamed, even as I batted his hand away and said, “Yes,” shakily.

This time Aric laughed. “If you’re sure,” he said, offering me his arm. We walked out of our apartment on Coruscant and headed out for dinner with the family. ..

We had a wonderful evening visiting with family, eating and celebrating the holiday. We’d gone dancing into the night with my siblings until finally I managed to get Aric alone on a balcony overlooking the city planet just after midnight. He was cradling me close, my back pressed to his front and his arms wrapped, as he watched the lights of the city below.

Working up the courage, I reached into my purse and pulled out the small gift. “I have a Life Day present for you.”

“K’agan, you didn’t have too,” he said, releasing me, so he could take the box from me. “I didn’t get you anything.”

Waving off his concern, I reassured him, “I wasn’t expecting anything.” Indicating the box, I added, “Just open it.”

Pulling the silver ribbon from the package, Aric pulled the silvery paper off and carefully opened the box inside. He pulled out the holo of our children and gave me a puzzled look. Motioning for him to keep looking, Aric turned his attention back to the box and pulled out the test results. Reading the thin sheet, Aric inhaled sharply and glanced back at the holo. “Does this mean what I think it means?”

Nodding my head, eyes full of tears, I manage a watery, “Yes.”

With a whoop of joy, my mate picked me up and swung me around, before leaning in and kissing me passionately for a few long moments. Holding me close and stroking my cheek he asked, “How? You were taking birth control?”

“Remember the infection I had two and a half months ago,” he nodded and I continued, “I took antibiotics. They apparently affected my contraceptives.”

“How far along?”

“About nine weeks,” I answered, “With twins.”

I grinned at Aric’s stunned expression. Taking the holo from his numb hand I showed it to him and pointed at two tiny images, “See,” I said, “Right there are your sons.”

He looked at me and managed to stutter out. “Sons? Boys?”

I continued to smile and said, “Identical.”

“Maker,” he finally whispered, “I hope their like you and not your aunt.”

“Hey!” I said, indignantly on my sister’s behalf, “That’s my twin!”

“Exactly,” he agreed, as if I’d proved his point.

“You’re happy?” I asked, double checking.

“Ecstatic,” he whispered, pulling me back against him, he cradled me tightly against him. “I’d given up on any dreams of being a father, you’ve given me back that dream. “

“I know they weren’t planned but we’ll make it work.”

“We will,” he agreed, running a hand across my still flat tummy. Underneath his hand our children were already growing, thriving.

“I love you,” I said.

“I love you too.”

@Feldraeth- RE: Vae Victus- still like Roan and Vette's relationship. It's not the romantic, abusive, or buddy-buddy I usually see. Like Lunafox said, very much a mom/older sister thing. And financial stuff is a good choice for rite of passage stuff. As someone who moved out a bit before coming of legal age, it's a nightmare if you're a minor who doesn't have a parent or guardian handy.

RE: A Shadow at Karimas- I'm going to have to skip this one, as I somehow still haven't complected Makeb stuff. I'm actually getting to it in a few weeks, though!

@Rhyys- AWWWW!!! That's so sweet! What an amazing Life Day for both of them

The scene takes place in the Odessen cantina shortly after the arrival on Odessen.

In my story Nik and Rufuro (Darth Nox) share the title of the Outlander, as well as the remnants of Valkorion in their minds. Thorns was taken prisoner while searching for Nik, and was forced to fight in an arena on Zakuul, where he was found and rescued, when Senya was searching for the Lady of Sorrows.

“Mind if a take a seat, Commander?”

Nikeo raised his head to look at Thorns. “Guess my answer won’t affect the outcome.”

“Who’d be able to decline such a warm invitation?” Thorns sat down opposite his brother. The bottle on the table contained a golden liquid. The label wasn’t visible from where he sat, but Thorns had a rather accurate idea of the contents. He nodded towards Nik’s glass. “Helping?”

“What does it look like?”

“Looks like you didn’t read the small print on your I-am-the-commander-contract.”

“Not like I asked for any of this.” Nik made a vague hand movement.

“Damned, Nik. These people need you, they look up to you.”

“They need Darth Nox. He’s the one winning the fights that are impossible to win. We need miracles. Only Force users provide those.”

“It’s always good to have Ru on your side. But you fail to see, that you’re a miracle all by yourself. You’re one of them, and you survived. You give them hope.”

Nik barked a laugh. “Great miracle I am. I lost five years, Nat. Five years — and everything I hold dear.” He downed the contents of his glass.

“I’ll find her, Nik.”

“Yeah, sure. The Champion will succeed where this whole damned organization failed so far.”

“Kriffin right! The Champion will. Have a little more faith in me. Elara hired me to find you. You don’t think I wouldn’t bother to collect my reward just because you’re my little brother, would you?”

Nik eyed him out of narrow eyes. “We rescued you! And you’re only ten minutes older.”

Thorns put the argument off with a wave of his hand. “Technical details. I’ll tell Elara your whereabouts, and collect my reward. She’ll be so happy to see you, she’ll pay a bonus. Just wait and see!”

“Guess five years haven’t changed that much.” Part of the old disgust was still there. Nik shook his head like he was trying to get rid of it. “Still, it won’t be easy for you to find her, if Theron and his connections haven’t found a trace of her.”

“I’ll find Mako, Mako finds her. Nothing and nobody can hide from Mako.”

Nik’s face lighted up. “You got a trace of Mako? That’s great!” Nik grabbed his hand across the table. “That’s really good news. And if anyone can find Elara, it’s her.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” Thorns squeezed his brother’s hand. “How about you try to sleep off this stuff?” The movement of his chin indicated the whiskey bottle. “No doubt Lana has some task for you in the morning.”

Nik laughed. “No doubt!” He got up. “Thanks, Nat!”

Thorns refilled his brother’s glass for himself, and watched him leave until someone stepped into his line of sight.

“Maybe I’ll have a task for the Champion, too.” Lana suggested.

Thorns raised his glass. “A cheer for eavesdroppers!”

Lana got into the seat Nik had occupied before. “You didn’t tell him about the letter. Why?”

Thorns stared at her for a long moment, eyebrow raised. “Maybe I’m only ten minutes older, maybe now it’s five years more. Doesn’t matter. He’s my little brother. I’ll protect him.”

“Finding Mako will be next to impossible.”

Yeah. Only a fool would have believed Lana wouldn’t know the contents of Mako’s letter. Only a fool would believe he’d be able to find Mako if Mako didn’t want to be found. Mako had closed shop. She had thought him dead, and burned all bridges behind her. He wouldn’t find her. He’d make sure she’d find him. Time to make the galaxy whisper his name once more. Whisper it loud enough for Mako to hear.

The transport smelled like something had died in it, then been resuscitated, then killed again several times over. Ketturah tried not to make a face as she adjusted her position on the patched seat. As disgusting as this ship was, it was the only thing flying off Ord Mantell she had been able to afford. Shar Nolend had better be here on Dantooine, or she wouldn’t have the money to finish the hunt.

“Landing in five minutes,” said the static-filled speaker connected to the cockpit. Finally. Ketturah took one last look at the other passengers. A young woman, keeping three children close, a couple of farm-worker types, and a pair of Rodians she would have bet credits had records. She considered looking it up, but the only place to turn them in around here was a Republic outpost, and she needed to avoid those.

They touched down with a shudder. Ketturah waited until the rest of the passengers had disembarked before grabbing her bag and heading down the ramp. Outside was brighter and hotter than she thought it would be, with a warm breeze not doing much to cut the heat. Not too many people, but a few. Nobody seemed to notice her, though. Just as well. Pulling a pack of ciggs from her jacket pocket, she headed for a secluded corner of the spaceport and sat down for a smoke.

As she smoked, she pulled out her datapad- new to her, although still battered and three models out of date- and checked over the bounty listing again. Shar Nolend had pissed off Rolka the Hutt in some unspecified but apparently unforgivable way and the slug was offering ten thousand credits to whoever brought him in. She had managed to figure out that he had old family property on Dantooine, so here she was. Now to find him and score some credits.

She hadn’t been able to find out where on Dantooine the property was, so she would have to find someone who might know. That meant talking to authorities. Ugh.

The obvious place to try was the Republic military base at the other end of the settlement, but she immediately discarded that idea. A random desk clerk probably wouldn’t run her identity before telling her where the Nolend property was, especially if she came up with a good cover story, but they might. And she had been around enough to know that cop killers, even suspected cop killers, stayed in the system forever.

Well, if you couldn’t ask the official source, a cantina was your next best bet. Extinguishing her cigg, she grabbed her knapsack and started down the main street of the town.

As hot as it was right now, she had to admit it was kind of nice being out of the city. There was so much sky here, and the streets felt so open compared to the narrow, crowded alleyways of Coruscant or Nar Shadda. Not as many bars, though. Finally, she spotted one, not as much of a dive as was likely to have what she needed, but it would have to do.

She pushed the door open and looked around. After the bright sun outside, it seemed very dim and cool. Only a few beings sat on the stools or scattered around at the tables, but most were already too deep in their cups to take notice of her.

The bartender, however, was not. A human man with what looked like a permanent frown bustled out of the back and stared at her critically. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” She’s heard of minimum drinking ages anywhere from none to twenty-five, but that should be safe enough.

He laughed loudly enough that several of the other patrons looked at her. “Yeah, right. I’m guessing you’re too young.”

“Eighteen.” Still two years older, but probably easier to buy.

“Out.” He pointed at the door. There was no point in arguing. She didn’t really want a drink, and even if she had, picking a fight was pretty stupid here. Even though she probably could have taken him. And there was no hope of getting information like that anyway.

Ketturah returned to the street and started walking aimlessly. Where to look next. There had to be something, she was sure.

As she passed the base, she paused for a moment outside the gate. Her and Mallena had always talked about joining the army when they got old enough. Army life had been as familiar to the other girl as breathing, and it had seemed to Ketturah like the best way to get away from her life on Coruscant. She wondered if Mallena had ever done it. Through the open gate, she could see white-armored figures hurrying back and forth and a male voice was shouting something unintelligible at a group close to the main building. For the briefest movement, she thought she heard the name Dayne, but shook her head. She was being silly.

Ketturah continued down the street, head up. This was a much better life than anything she could have gotten in the military. She didn’t need the Republic to take care of her. She didn’t even need Mallena’s help anymore. She was free and on her own, traveling the galaxy with action and adventure, just like the holovids.

But for action and adventure, she would have to find her target. Maybe the town had some sort of information center not connected to the base. She’d head there.

Something caught the corner of her eye and she spun around. A boy a little older than her stood there, grinning. A cybernetic implant ran along his chin like a com headset and a shock of blue hair hung over his forehead. “What do you want?” Ketturah said.

“Just saying hello. Meeting another hunter is always fun. Especially someone who’s not already old and boring.”

Ketturah looked him up and down. Long pants and practical boots, a thick scarf tucked into a multi-pocketed blast vest, blaster rifle slung over one shoulder. She’d buy it. To tell the truth, he was better equipped than she was. At least he had some armor. “Lookn’ for someone specific, or just trolling for leads?”

“On the hunt. Trying to find a guy named Nolend.”

“Oh?” Great. Competition.

“Yep. And if I’m right, you probably are too.”

She stayed quiet. Whatever he wanted, he’d get to it eventually.

“So what say we team up? Split the costs, split the bounty? I’ll bet you twenty credits that I’m better in the wilderness than you are. You could be out of here in a day or two.”

“What’s in it for you?” There was always something, and she didn’t have twenty credits anyway.

“Nolend’s a tougher case than Rolka let on. I can’t take him alone. You’re handier in a fight than I am, but I’m betting you’ll have trouble even finding the place. I’ll even give you a freebie. He’s about sixty kilometers to the north east. What do you say?”

She considered. It was true, she’d barely left a city in her life. Traveling cross-country for who knew how long would be tricky. But split a bounty? Take his help? What kind of professional did that? “Thanks. But I work alone.”

Ketturah's previous run-in with the law is explained here (second story)

Mallena actually is on Dantooine still at this point, as this is shortly before the bit of heroism that gets her reassigned to special forces. Hmm. Maybe I should write that story sometime.