I enjoyed your take on Black Talon and the details you used to describe the situation, the characters involved and also the dialogue, between Auth and Vette particularly. I can see you've put a lot of thought and care into this.

I'm glad you enjoyed it! I suspected you might, given a comment somewhere when you talked about enjoying when the Empire wins and hating when it loses It was also an experiment of sorts. "Can Div write believable larger-scale combat?" Maybe? Did it work well? I used the Black Talon FP because I suspect (rightly?)

that most readers will be familiar with it, as well as doing so would mean I would be able to lean on the existing narrative to focus more on the nuts and bolts of the writing. I did make some fairly large changes to it, for length's sake, for (personal) coolness sake, and because I try to infuse as much of my story as I realistically can with at least one extra layer of meaning.

Urgh...Yadira Ban. I relished killing her every single time of the bajillion times I ran that flash point. I haven't run it in a long time, and honestly can't remember if it was a game line, or the snark running in my head, but when Ban says it's her trial to face a Sith in battle, I keep hearing/thinking "Your master mustn't like you very much." And I snirk every time about that lol.

You know I think that actually is a line. I played through BT once while writing this so I'd have some dialogue, but I was just so giddy about getting to murder this stupid jedi that I forgot to escape out of the conversation to explore other options. woops! I figure her master is probably someone like Jaric Kaedan: militantly and idiotically against the Sith almost to the point of being rabid. Maybe her master IS Kaedan? I don't see captain I-hate-Scourge-because-I'm-racist-against-purebloods having a padawan anywhere.

Your battle descriptions were well done and it wasn't hard to imagine the duel unfolding in my mind's eye.

woot woot! Experimental success then

The banter between Vette and Auth is truly a delight, I quite enjoy them.

I am so so so thrilled you enjoy reading it! After a couple of chapters, I've gotten more comfortable with their dialogue and I enjoy writing it. A lot of it, especially the barb-trading, just flows so naturally.

Hah, I did enjoy the fate of the droid. You can't know how many times I wanted to do the same thing to that murderous horrible droid myself.

I literally almost forgot to even include that stupid droid. All mention of it was like an 11th hour addition.... Would BT be improved by removing the whole reason it even happens? Yes.

Mmm, interesting, we're making a shift to New Adasta. I love the new material, seeing a deviation from the game story is exciting and you manage to twine the Talon events into it to unify it nicely.

After following the BT storyline mostly I wanted to do something completely different. Inventing nearly everything about Ziost isn't easy, though. There's so little in the EU except for thousands of years after SWTOR. The Shadow of Revan finale was almost like an aetiology for why the planet is a wasteland in the future.

That being said, not everything is of my own device. Moff Sorin is a real NPC - albeit with like zero detail - from the Smuggler story, the (now) Grand Admiral's ship (the White Nova which we saw in the flash back a couple of episodes ago) is one of the Harrowers at the Imperial fleet station in-game. It's where you go to do Boarding Party and Foundry flashpoints as an Imperial character. Did you catch a certain interaction?

Sounds like a beautiful 'fasthold'. I'm curious, why you chose to call it such.

The capital F, despite all the other weirdness and missed opportunities for editing elsewhere in the chapter, was intentional. I wanted her home to have an actual title, like Buckingham Palace or Parliament Hill (in Ottawa), because of the age and venerability of it. In fact, the Neo-Gothic architecture of the Canadian Parliament was a bit of an inspiration in the fact that it's a series of semi-connected buildings that aren't terrible tall. I sat for a bit and people-watched tourist reactions this weekend to try and get a better sense of what Vette might act like. >.>

If you've never visited may I suggest it? (Although soon if you do because the absolutely gorgeous centre block is going to be closed for 11 years for renovations!!)

The vermillion dress sounds gorgeous.

This will not be the last time it will be seen. ehehehehe I also literally just googled wedding dresses to find something close to what I was envisioning, which is where that little bit of dialogue got its inspiration

And this is interesting, looks like some romantic developments might be happening between Vette and Auth.

Uhh... I've been considering some interpersonal interaction angles but the banter here was supposed to be more trading sarcasm than anything else. Or was it? *innocent*

Romantic setting really, considering that it's for a memorial service. The service was lovely, I enjoyed the igniting of the water and the silver flames. Gorgeous.

I'm glad you think so! The palace at Versailles might also be a bit of inspiration

I went a bit crazy here, haha. iTunes says I listened to

But I wanted something completely out of the ordinary and really cool, something highly ritualized as a way of seeing what things might have been like for the Sith as a species long ago. And maybe a "little" over the top because her family is insanely privileged such that even someone non-Force-sensitive has this grand funeral. Which also doubles as an utterly unsubtle affirmation of service to the Empire.

And it seems to me you've left it on a bit of a cliffhanger. I look forward to the conversation to come.

I realized I hadn't had a cliffhanger for more than a month haha! But seriously, much of the second half of this chapter has been kicking in my head for like a year and I knew it was going to end in a cliffhanger and how the next one is going to follow up. I'm not sure a line of dialogue was the way to go. I elected to go with it for the ambiguity, but done another way might give insightful readers a sense of what would happen, which might have made for a better cliffhanger. The road not taken, right?

Authenta hesitated, looking about the gardens, filling with mist from the infusion of rain into dying fires’ heat. The voice was enticing, though she could see no one who might have spoken. She yearned to search but also could not deny the desire to keep water from ruining her mother’s gown.

A soft clarion call pealed amusement from the voice. Both you and your dress are stronger than the oncoming storm. But if you insist… just know where your path lies.

Dashing into the darkened sunroom, she spun once to try and shake droplets from the shimmersilk. Tiny spatters across the marble, drowned out by the weather, rewarded her efforts. Vette was nowhere to be seen. She was somewhat disappointed but not surprised; hours had passed since the ceremony began and the cloak of night lay deep across her family’s lands.

She wrung the water from her hair by hand as she padded barefoot into a nearby cloakroom. Authenta pulled from the rack a black cloak trimmed and lined in white fur studded with dark patches. She slipped it over her dress and considered the mysterious voice. It intruded easily to her thoughts but she had no flicker of recognition.

None in her employ were Force-sensitive, and it sounded nothing like Bex or Lord Prasutagos. Not that either were present at her father’s funeral… and even if they had been, Bex didn't have that kind of skill with the Force and her mother was too proud for such frivolities.

More sweetly ringing laughter followed her thoughts. Now, perhaps. Her younger years were another matter.

“Who are you? What are you?”

You already know, Authenta.

Her head whipped about, but she was alone. All paintings in the star’s reach wing were planetscapes of Imperial worlds. From crimson Korriban, so ancient it had been painted from living memory to gleaming Vardos, commissioned by her mother as a wedding gift to Authenta’s father.

The portraits of her ancestors were hung in parts of her home more frequented by visitors to remind them of the Sarenrai line’s pedigree. The one she suspected, however, was not among the others - not yet. For as long as she could remember it had hung above the mantel in the library.

Authenta flipped her hood up to ward away the rain, slipping out of a little-used entrance of her home. The Force called down a path which twisted through the copse of aged evergreens that grew behind the mountain-facing side of the house. Feet following the route she had walked a thousand times as a girl, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Authenta passed through the wood to a clearing filled with wildflowers as exotic as could grow on Ziost. A small and simple building rose above the blooms, its unassuming profile in sharp contrast to the masterwork craftsmanship that had carved the stone to build it.

There was no handle or mechanism; only with the Force could the doors be opened. She reached out and took a steadying breath, concentrating on the engraved granite. Fingers splayed, she moved her hands away from each other, palms outwards. By degrees, the door panels shifted apart along their carved tracks. Darkness lay within, almost fully concealing an ancient stair leading down, grooves worn into the steps over the millennia.

Authenta pulled her saber from her belt and thumbed the activator. The blade smoked in the rain, casting a flickering scarlet light across the clearing. She held it higher to light her way, and stepped into the darkness.

Despite the cool air she cast aside the cloak, piling it neatly near the top step. In moments the stairs began to spiral tightly, boring deeper into the mesa beneath her family home. Only once before had she been within the crypt housing her family's mortal remains, though she had visited the clearing many times. The day the Empire bombarded the Republic capital, she had made Lord Carnarian open the tomb. The impetuous nerve of it! A twelve-year-old girl, ordering around a Dark Lord of the Sith. But she had wanted to visit in person, to tell her ancestors their vindication; that the Empire had won at long last. The truth of it was muddier, as she found out growing older.

Though Carnarian was only human, as the patriarch of another old family, he too understood the ancient ways. And he did spend more than an hour afterwards torturing her with lightning for her temerity.

I remember.

“How could you?” She demanded of the shadows. But there was no answer. Authenta screwed her eyes shut for a heartbeat, denying purchase to a fresh wave of tears.

The stairs leveled off into the first and most ancient level, ten meters below ground. The beginnings of her family’s history were interred here, the thickest roots closest to the surface. A pair of red marble statues, larger than life, dominated the center chamber. Lord Metago, a veteran of the Great Hyperspace War, and his wife Sarenrai, who became one of the first of the Dark Council - Darth Irae - stood back to back, sabers ready and fingers entwined, enemies dead at their feet. Their ashes hidden within the plinth, ensconced behind the hand-carved plaque that bore their names.

A hundred more such stories were buried here; more than fifty generations of her family had lived and died in service to the Empire since their time. This night, she was interested in only one.

Beyond the statue of her ancient progenitors, near the spiral staircase leading further below, Authenta turned into a narrow passage - one much newer than the rest of this level. The stone beneath her feet was icy to the touch. Entering the small hexagonal chamber, she shivered. It housed only a single member of her family, though soon there would be two. The statue within, made from painted ceramic was a woman of muted pureblood lineage, older than her but still young. Black, gold, and alabaster robes swirled about an agile frame. The statue held a lightsaber in each hand, both blades pointed down; one forged in brilliant crimson glass, the other from polished silver. She knew the use of house colors was artistic rather than truth.

On the stela placed before the statue, beneath the sigil of her house, Authenta read the memorial inscription:

Epibyla, Lady Sarenrai, Dark Lord of the Sith and Mistress of Carnage

Apprentice to Lord Carnarian

Devoted Wife to Barus Threno

Dedicated Mother to Authenta

Years-In-Exile 1306-1335

Warm tears stained her cheeks. At dawn’s light she would return, carrying ashes from the pyre in an ossuary and rest it here. The blank half of the stela’s inscription would then be filled in for her father, and he and the mother she had never known would be eternally joined once more.

Fire in ebony and titian shades cascaded out of her mother’s sculpture, lighting the chamber in a dancing glow. It surged over the statue’s foundation and onto the stone floor. Authenta reflexively jumped back, only to be met with more of the same laughter.

She lowered her saber, but it remained lit and she, wary. The fire spooled up into a lithe form, churning light and dark flames mirroring the painted patterns on the statue. The mirage smiled. “Welcome, daughter of mine.”

Authenta pointed her saber. “What treachery is this?”

The illusion spread its hands, trailing fire. “There is no deception to be found in death.”

Authenta stalked around the shade, eyes narrowed in distrust.

“Your father raised you well, I see. He and I met on Karideph; did he ever tell you the story?”

She waved her saber. “He did.”

The apparition spun about on a fountain of embers, hands thrown wide. “More than twenty years to teach myself this… if only I could have been there for you all that time. Watched you grow, become Sith… being on the outside was never enough.”

“And you can prove you are the spirit of my mother, how?”

“You broke General Ardell’s neck aboard the Republic cruiser Brentaal Star.”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Hardly a secret. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

The fire drifted around, matching her pacing through the chamber. “A mother knows her child better than she knows herself. In the tomb of Ajunta Pall, you tried to wield a second blade. As I once did, but it did not suit you.”

Authenta stalled mid stride, saber faltering. “I was alone.”

Fire in the form of her mother flourished her hands. “You are never truly alone. I have become one with the Force. I can feel you whenever you use it, wherever you are.”

Authenta looked at the ground, her saber blade retracting with a low-pitched hum. “How is this - I thought only Jedi could remain whole in death?” She looked back at the spirit of her mother, and reached out. “All the tales I’ve heard of Sith who try… all that lingers is their hate. Are you trying to tell me you were really a Jedi?”

The dulcet laughter of her mother’s voice answered her. “The things I have done, Authenta, would make even the most stalwart of Jedi call for my blood.”

“Then how?”

“As I told you, there is no deception to be found in death. You will learn one day, the Force is so much more than you have been taught.”

“The Force is a tool.”

“Yes, one that lives and breathes and has a will of its own.” Her mother danced about, flames swirling. “But, I'm so proud of you! Of the woman you’ve become… the warrior you will be. You honor our family name.”

A fiery gaze flicked to the saber Authenta still held, then the spirit whirled about. Regarding the life-size statue of herself, she beckoned for her daughter to come closer. “I had always hoped you would wield one of my sabers when you were old enough, or at least use the Cinderstorm in the construction of your own.”

Holding out the engraved silvery hilt in her palm, she glanced at her mother’s blazing countenance. “I had been considering it ever since I left Korriban. Dad always told me you wanted me to use yours.”

“May I?”

Authenta handed the hilt over. It activated in her mother’s grip, but the smooth drone was replaced with a lurid screech, the blade quavering and sputtering.

“What have you done?”

The shade passed the hilt back. “Nothing, my daughter.”

She hurriedly activated her saber, but the blade behaved as if the protestations of a moment ago had never occurred.

“It’s old, forged more with the Force than metal. You allowed your warblade to choose you… so too did your lightsaber.

I suggest you discover its history. Farewell, and may the Force be with you always.” The glow of the room began to fade as her mother’s spirit evanesced.

Authenta reached out desperately. “Wait, no…!” A few minutes in her family’s crypt was nothing. A mere blink… she had so much more to say. A lifetime of questions to ask.

But she was alone again, deep within the tomb.

* * * * *

She slouched in a carved vermillion chaise, elbow on the left armrest. The dress and cloak of the previous day had been sent off for cleaning after the stonemason completed his inscription; her family’s crypt sealed once more.

She stared at the low table’s surface, pulling tighter the argent bathrobe she wore over a simple shift. She glared at the padd on it, and at the empty wine bottle that shared in her misery. Twenty eight. Twenty-eight parents, spouses, and children. Twenty-eight letters, for twenty-eight loyal servants of the Empire who were never coming home. She had to justify their lives against keeping the secrets of the military to families who couldn't be told everything, who wouldn't understand.

Authenta had thought Corporal Galin Versio’s would be the easiest to write. He was the pilot who had sacrificed himself to disable the Brentaal Star’s hangar defenses and get her assault team aboard. Everyone on the Black Talon owed him their lives… but every time she tried to write the letter, all she could hear behind the text was insincerity. It all just boiled down to, I’m sorry Commander Edanna Versio, your husband killed himself because I ordered it. Every time she tried, the letter sounded more and more hollow.

Soft rapid-fire knocking from across the room dragged her from her reverie. “What is-? Vette!”

Her companion leaned on the enameled doorframe to the library, azure arms crossed. She wore an olive drab t-shirt and the multipocketed breeches favored by the Imperial military a century ago.

“Hey, sorry… I'll go.” Vette started to push herself off the frame.

Authenta held up a hand. “No, please; stay. The DND order was for my staff.”

“I'm a slave, aren't I?”

Arching a brow, she enquired, “Are you?”

Vette hitched a thumb at her collar in reply.

Auth gestured towards one of the sumptuous reading chairs across the caf table. “Please, sit! I’d offer you a glass of wine but it seems the bottle has run dry.”

“I uhh… don't drink wine. It's gross.” Vette scrunched up her face as she melted into the chair’s plush cushioning.

“A family friend owns Ziost’s most prestigious vinyard. I wouldn't say that too loudly,” Authenta smiled.

“I've gotten lost three times this morning alone. How do you get around?”

“I grew up here, remember?”

“Being Sith has its perks, huh? This whole house is crazy… you could buy a moon for less than some of the stuff in rooms nobody ever sees!” Vette waved her arms around at the room. “Look at this! Real books, hundreds of them! And huge paintings!”

She glanced over her shoulder. “That is a portrait of my mother, yes.

“What’s this really about? Vette, what’s wrong?” Auth sat up straight and leaned forward, fingers interlaced and forearms resting on her knees.

“Everything! You. This stupid mansion. The Sith Empire. At least the Republic doesn't have slavery!” She threw up her hands, punctuating her words.

Authenta sighed, looking at the carpet. “Were you born on Ryloth?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Were you?”

An exasperated sigh. “Fine! Yes.”

Auth looked up, a melancholic expression on her features. “Ryloth is a Republic world. They just don't care that the Hutts enslave your people.”

Vette gawked at her, a hand over her mouth giving the appearance of outrage. But behind cerulean fingers Authenta could hear snickering. She rolled her eyes and pushed on the chair back with the Force, knocking it and Vette backwards. Her twi’lek friend yelped as she tumbled across the carpet.

She stood from the chaise and circled around to where Vette lay giggling on the floor. “You suck, and I hate you, Vette.”

Her companion began to laugh in earnest.

“How much of that was a lie, purely for a prank at my expense?” She held out a hand to help Vette stand.

She grasped Authenta’s offered hand. “Pretty much everything. But I really did get lost. And I was born on Ryloth.”

Vette shrugged. “I guess also that this place is crazy. How do you afford all this stuff? Isn’t everything supposed to be all… ‘For the Empire!’ around here?” She pumper her fist forward sarcastically.

Auth looked around. “Much has been acquired over centuries and maintained. After a thousand years, there is very little that I could want for which may be bought.

My family’s fortune was made through construction projects. Much of Kaas City’s older districts, virtually all of New Adasta, the Imperial shipyards at Fondor… the list goes on. A lot of the farmland on Ziost was owned by us at one time, too. Lord Prasutagos might own the winery, but the land belongs to me.”

She picked up her padd, slipping it into an inside pocket of her robe. “Everything else has come from two sources: investments, or the absorption of other Sith fortunes. A failed assassination attempt is a useful reason to forcibly acquire assets.”

“You sound like Nok Drayen.”

Auth ran her thumb along the bone spur beside her chin. “The so-called ‘Pirate Lord’ who crushed the Rath Cartel and the Vandelhelm Combine in a power grab?”

“Yeah. Same guy. He set me free.”

She smirked. “He and I have something in common then.”

“What?”

“I said nothing. When we get to Kaas City, we’ll have to get new armor, I think.”

Vette pulled at her shirt. “Nah, I like this look.”

“A coat then at least?”

“Fine! You win.” she crossed her arms and huffed.

She laughed, “that’s two in a row!”

Vette rolled her eyes.

“You lean on things all the time, anyway. You’re nearly begging to be a cool smuggler.” Authenta stepped closer. “I also have something for you.”

“You’re... not gonna kiss me are you?”

The edge of Auth’s lip ticked up. “Why... stop there?”

“Uhh…”

Clapping her hands, Authenta spun away. “Revenge is sweet!”

“I guess I deserved that, huh?” Vette sighed.

Authenta crossed her arms. “Well don’t just stand there; come with me!”

“You scare me sometimes.” Vette followed her out of the library. “So that’s really a painting of your mom? You and her kind of…don’t...”

Spinning on her heel, Authenta answered Vette while walking backwards down the hall. “My mother was faithful, if that’s what you’re implying. I’m told DNA tests were done because no one believed it then, either.” She shrugged and turned back the proper way. “I suppose my father had some pureblood in him, or the Force had a say. Who knows?

"You’ll regret your lack of coat in a moment. We need to step outside.”

“Why?”

“My father built a garage for the speeders he collected.” Auth shrugged. I don’t know why it’s not attached to the rest of the home… I’ll never know, now.” She pulled the cinch knot on her bathrobe’s belt tight as the pair reached an outer door.

“Ready?”

“No?”

She shoved open the double doors, revealing the wind scoured ocean-facing side of the mesa. Half-hidden against an outcropping was a squat rectangular building made of durasteel panels, a few dozen meters away. Authenta stepped out into the biting chill, followed by Vette.

“Why is every Imperial planet freezing!”

“Bad timing? It’s winter and we’re half a kilometre above sea level here.” Auth held out a hand to steady herself; her indoor shoes had smooth soles, unsuited to the slick rocks.

“I’m going to die of frostbite. The galaxy is about to be down one cute twi’lek!”

“Shut up, Vette.” They both laughed, reaching the garage and its respite from the wind.

Keying in a sequence into the lock, Auth flipped the panel into the wall and took a step back. “If you complain about the heat on Dromund Kaas I might slap you.”

“I’ll try to remember. You said your dad collected speeders?”

With a chime, the lock’s indicator light turned green. Authenta slid the small access door to the side. Within lay darkness and the occasional reflection from the late morning sun on shiny metal or glass. She gestured for Vette to enter first.

“Sure, get me away from the house, into a secluded, dark place. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were up to something.”

“And you’d be right.” She gently nudged between Vette’s shoulder blades, pushing her inside.

Vette spun, sputtering and waving her hands frantically in the dark. “Wow, wow, I’m - I’m not-”

“Not that kind of twi’lek?” Authenta flipped a switch, turning on the lights for the first time in many months. The first row protested with electrical buzzing and flickering before finally settling on. Once the current had passed through, each row of lighting turned on in sequence, revealing a more than a dozen land and airspeeders, most in some state of disassembly.

“Uhh, yeah.”

Authenta turned away from Vette, ambling over to a workbench stacked with shelves and racks full of tools. “The hope had crossed my mind.” She waved a hand at a nearby wheeled stool. “Take a seat.”

Leaning against the workbench as Vette sat looking awfully uncomfortable, Auth shrugged. “What do we need to get your collar off? I know very little about cybertech.”

Her companion breathed a huge sigh of relief, but then her mind registered what her master had actually said and she jumped up. Grinning wildly, Vette cheered. “Really?! That’s… wow!”

“What did I say about sitting? You’re not that much shorter than I am.” Auth pointed sternly at the stool her companion had just vacated.

“Ok, ok. I saw the collar when they put it on me. It looks like a pretty standard Imperial shock collar so… number 5 and 7 hydrospanners, unless your dad has one of the fancy variable ones. And a fusion cutter, unless he has one of the really fancy ones.” Vette shrugged.

“I’m guessing a lightsaber would be too imprecise?”

“I like my head where it is, thanks.” Vette scowled.

Authenta held up a tool with a thin handle. “This?”

“Of course your dad has a Regalis model. It’ll do everything.”

“So what do I do?” She spun the hydrospanner in her palm.

Vette rubbed her neck above the collar. “There should be two bolts holding the battery casing on. Right side. That has to come out first or I get zapped.”

Turning the miniscule bolts out of their mooring, Authenta mused, “Even if I don’t have the shock control?”

“You… what? How could you lose it?”

The battery cover came loose with an audible metallic pop. “I didn’t. While I was burying Vemrin, I crushed it when you weren’t looking. I haven’t been able to shock you - even if I wanted to - since we left Korriban.

"Just pull the battery out?”

“I think so.” She winced, waiting for the inevitable jolt, but nothing came.

Pulling the battery out and throwing it on the workbench, Auth took a deep breath. “What’s next?”

“You really couldn’t shock me?”

“No. What purpose would it serve? What would I gain by hurting you?”

“Isn’t that the only way Sith get off?”

Authenta struggled not to laugh. “Just where have you been getting your information on Sith anyway!

"Speaking of which, I can take a hint, but… I’d like to know at least; why the rejection?”

Vette shook her head emphatically; she could feel her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “Where do I start?”

“Ouch.” She leaned against the table. “That bad, huh?”

“We just met! And you’re… a woman.”

Authenta crossed her arms, waving the hydrospanner end about. “Well at least it wasn’t ‘You murder people for a living.’”

“Well I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Vette snickered.

“Now what?”

“Little hole on… one side, somewhere. Insert the hydrospanner then twist left.”

Authenta ran her fingers along the collar’s edges until she found the aperture. After she followed Vette’s instructions, a metallic clank sounded from the collar. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Only if you’re a slaver trying to keep the merchandise in check. It’s the electrodes disengaging.” She pushed at the collar. “Aww, they used adhesive. Is there a container of a water-free solvent?” She spun the chair, looking around the room. “Engine oil or something?”

Authenta looked at the bottles and vials on the dusty workbench, reading their faded labels. “D-5 airhammer lubricant?”

“Stars, no! That stuff is the worst.”

“Aurek Xesh industrial rotary drive grease?”

“Eww. Last resort. Causes chemical burns on twi’lek skin. Is there a less sucky option?”

“Whatever kri’gee is.”

Vette sat up straighter. “That’s Mandalorian. I wonder if your dad drank it or used it as engine cleaner.”

“It’s both?”

“It’s gross, is what it is.”

She held up the jar of pale brown liquid. “Everything is gross with you, though.” Auth twisted the lid off and gave the contents a whiff. She coughed, scrunching her nose. “You win. Will it work?”

“Should.”

Auth swirled the container, casting her gaze about. “I don’t see any rags. I hope this doesn’t ruin your shirt.” She tipped the jar a little, pouring some of the amber liquid over the slave collar. Pulling on it with her other hand, it popped off Vette’s neck with an indistinct sucking sound.

Spinning the stool around, Vette cheered, “I’m free!”

Authenta crushed the collar with the Force. “This isn’t freedom, not truly. When we land in Kaas City, I’ll see about starting paperwork to make you a free Imperial citizen, but even then you will serve a Sith. As all in the Empire do.”

“But I’m free? I’m not your slave?”

“You… never were. None of the people who work for me are slaves; they are all paid. I don’t own slaves.” Authenta looked over Vette’s shoulder at the speeders. “Would you stay partners, though? You and me, conquering the galaxy. What do you think?”

“Me and my buddy the Sith. Nobody’s gonna pick on me at school!”

She rolled her eyes. “We work well together. You have skills I don’t have, and as a Sith, I have privileges you can take advantage of.”

“Am I going to die?”

“I hope not, but I can make no promises.”

“I’m definitely going to haunt you! Gonna break your plates and every- is that an Aratech Eclipse? They made like… ten of these!”

Authenta followed where Vette was pointing to sleek, black speeder bike. “If it works you can have it. I remember you mentioning something about a finder’s fee.”

“You can’t be serious!”

“I never shared my father’s interest in working on speeders. The rare times I’ve needed one I’ve always used a Vectron I received as a gift when I turned sixteen.”

“Your dad gave you a million credit speeder for your cakeday?”

She shrugged. “He probably rebuilt it. My father bought used and broken speeders and fixed them as a hobby.

But yes, the eclipse is yours if you want it.”

Vette threw a leg over the charcoal speeder. Straddling it, she flipped a switch and the HUD readout next to it flickered on in a bright crimson glow. Pressing the readout with a fingertip, the engines groaned and cycled up. She grabbed the handlebars and wiggled her butt in the seat. “Can’t hardly hear the engines! Wow! Nice of your dad to leave the wireless keycard with it.”

Authenta smiled. “Good thing, I suppose. We should start packing up. I need to be on Dromund Kaas in less than twelve hours, and the flight is four.”

Vette hung her head as she got off the aratech speeder. “You take all my fun away.”

“We’ll bring it. Did you think we were going to walk forever?”

A Beautiful introduction to the mystery. Love the way you describe Authenta and her curiosity about the mysterious voice. Great hook.

woo!

Hmm, loved the imagery of the lightsaber sparking in the rain, very cool.

I added that in a later edit. It occurred to me that a lightsaber in the rain would act like anything super hot (car/street lights, etc) and produce steam, so I threw that in. I like that little bit, and I'm glad you do too!

'...denying purchase to a fresh wave of tears.' You really do have a lovely way with words. Very poetic.

Now I feel like a real writer!

That's quite a reunion; I found it interesting that she was more accepting of her mother when reading the inscription, but challenged her appearance as treachery when she manifested before her.

Authenta recognizes her mother but has never met her for reasons I may or may not ever explain (but can be guessed at ), so it's kind of a... detached relationship. The reaction was supposed to be more to the Force-ghost aspect; it's not something Auth has encountered, and certainly not within her own family's crypt. She sees this and is expecting it to be the doing of someone still living. I suppose that's my fault for not more clearly articulating that.

It shows up in my choice of descriptors for her mother's ghost. If you look at them they start off pretty negative/fake: mirage, illusion, apparition. It looks like her mother, but it can't be... can it? And then the language shifts. Sometimes, I put a tremendous amount of thought into word choice and order; about what a word means and not just what it says. (Although in re-reading I realize I never called a spade a spade and used the word "Force-ghost." Oversight on my part; my bad.)

The lightsaber's reaction to being held her mother's shade was fascinating. Makes me wonder why it responded this way. I enjoyed this part very much.

Ehehehe, what does that mean in the larger scheme of things? The first half of this chapter has a lot to say.

Poor Authenta though; finally she accepts her to be who she claims and it's time to go. Time with the beloved dead is always too fleeting.

Indeed time is fleeting to finally have a chance to speak with someone who've she's only ever heard about, only to have it snatched away so swiftly. Sometimes, the universe just has to gut-punch Authenta to show her who's in charge

Partially also I had a lot more I originally wanted them to talk about and maybe I decided it wasn't time a certain Sith was allowed to know certain things.

Oh, that's not an enviable task--having to write letters to families. :/

No indeed. Did you know the military sends four people to do it? One to tell the family, one to provide backup in case things get violent, a chaplain, and one whose sole purpose is to drive the vehicle.

Ah Vette...you fooled me twice. I thought we were in for a lighter moment and then slavery talk! Then it became lighter again lol.

Originally I had envisioned it to be a much more darker, serious conversation than it was. But then I was like mmm... that's not really Vette, either.

I can imagine being surrounded with that much wealth would be difficult for Vette...all this expensive stuff and it's strewn about and no one really notices or cares about it.

I feel like her problem is more that it feels kind of abandoned to her. Vette always struck me as wanting to be rich so she could spend, to live a life she never could have as a slave.

Ah, Noc Drayen, nice that you chose to do that conversation here. I always thought it was a shame she didn't meet up with Risha again. Maybe some day.

Not quite with the detail of the game, but sometimes in-game conversations feel to me more like the NPC is talking AT the player and not TO them.

Ah more Vette/Authenta flirting.

ehehehe

I liked that DNA testing had to be done because no one believed the truth about Authenta being their daughter.

I can't decide if the allusions are enough or if the inclusion of more details would enrich the story. Thoughts? But yes, Authenta is super pureblood-y, while her mother is more like say, your Darth Nox, and of course her father is human. Eyebrows were raised.

That's a nice surprise for Vette and I like how you did it...the removal of the shock collar isn't really described or explored much in game, it just sort of happens.

Not all intimacy requires romance, nor sexuality. Sometimes intimacy is helping a friend in need with a problem no one else can.

Really well done, and I liked that Vette and Authenta were able to address the flirts as well. I suspect that this won't be the last of it though. I enjoyed how you combined the game dialogue with your own.

Somehow the past week escaped me and I wrote almost the entire episode on Thursday. I have no idea where six days went. And I feel - at least looking at my own writing - like it showed in parts of that exchange. It reads kind of clunky to me.

I cannot comment on activities as it might compromise our agents in the field.

I couldn't NOT include the school line! I love that line, it's so great!

I definitely think you should touch on those reasons a bit, if you're doing Authenta's life. Maybe Mom has a diary? Those always make for interesting reading. I got that she was a force ghost, so that part was fine.

I plan to; in fact I have a pretty solid handle, in my head at least, of what will happen. I'm just kind of stuck on... when and how. That is, the integration into the wider narrative.

My Nox would be taken as a pureblood, but she is of the caramel skinned variety, very light, less ridgey and she has the pale grey eyes, which in my head canon indicate a human or (a few) in the ancestral background...unless the Sith influence is relatively strong to give the traditional yellow/orange/red eye colour. I can see why Authenta might be looked at funny if she's pure red with a lot of ridges and the traditional eye colour, especially when her father is human.

I guess that's my own fault then. The way you described your Nox always sounded (to me)

like she was of pureblood heritage, but weakly so.

It does amaze me where the time goes, that's why I try and assign a portion of my day to writing and if I can't write, I think up stuff...that way you have in mind what you want to do when you do hit the computer. I think your writing was fine and the scenes came across well.

Teach me how to do this, s'il vous plaît?

I'll answer your other questions here too under the cut. I didn't feel it was a weak chapter at all. I do think you should explore Authenta's relationship/lack thereof with her mother in some way.

As above, I plan on it. I have ideas, just not ideas of where to put those ideas

The descriptions were wonderful and I enjoyed them. And you're right, balls to the wall is fine here and there, but you do require down moments where meaningful stuff happens to develop the characters and also to let the reader catch their breath. I think you balance these elements just fine. You have an inate understanding of how that works it seems.

Truth be told, I'm very bad at really paying attention to what I'm doing or being able to critically analyse something that's not explicitly science-related. So a lot of the time it... kind of feels a bit like I stumble into writing something people enjoy. And then I'm like... YES! PEOPLE LIKE IT! WOO!

How to improve it? Hmm, well, I suppose I would warn you to be careful not to stray too much closer to the 'purple' (purple prose). It's a fine line between beautiful prose and something a bit over the top. "A soft clarion call pealed amusement from the voice." That line strayed darn close...and this kind of thing could be what's giving you that sensation of 'clunkiness' that you're concerned about. Mostly, I think you worry too much.

In my defense, that was a line that escaped editing. I'm not sure how, with how close to the start it is. Originally, the Force-ghost laughter from her mother was much more explicitly jingly, like from a carillon or tubular bells. As in, literally sounding like bells. (A reference to something in a D&D campaign I once played with people I used to know.) But then I thought readers might find that weird, or not understand it, or a dozen other possibilities, so I changed it, and somehow that line slipped through.

Illo dicto, in retrospect I feel like a lot of the awkwardness comes from how frequently I have such difficulty getting words to the page, even when I know exactly how I want things to go. Even if I can play events like a movie in my head, good luck turning it into words. I spend a lot of time feeling awkward writing, and then it translates into thinking the writing itself is awkward, no matter how many times I make editing passes.

For instance, right now I am waaaaay behind on this week's chapter. I have like... two and a half pages written.

And I'm just like... ****, how do I get this to continue? GG.

Anyway, I just wanted to say, that I really do think you worry too much. There is no need to feel awkward...about any of it. Writing is what it is, and you have to do a lot of it to improve. You can neither read or write too much, that's just how it is. If I had a dollar for every time I strayed too close or down right waded right in and did a swan dive into the purple prose, I'd probably be able to buy enough EA stock to tell them to make more story for the game lol. It's something everyone at some point does, so there is nothing to be awkward about. In fact, I'd rather see someone take a risk/chance on a line they loved than to play it safe. Even if that line was something you loved and intended rather than something that was missed in edits, you don't have to defend or explain it, if you love it, cool. This is just one person who was asked 'how do I improve' and I'm hard pressed to choose something for you to work on (which is good news really). As for finding daily time, I know that can be hard. What about an hour or two before going to bed? Or an hour before you have to go somewhere in the morning?

I think your story is well thought out, well paced, and descriptions are very vivid. Your characters are interesting and their voices great. I'm not as wonderful a reviewer as you are, you have a gift for it, but I'm trying. If I gave you any cause to feel awkward about anything, it wasn't meant to and I'm very sorry.

The shuttle rocked as it passed through the interminable storm cover of the Imperial capital. Torrents of violet lightning flooded the dreary afternoon sky, reflecting in Vette’s eyes as she peered out the viewport. “Welcome to Dromund Kaas, where freedom goes to die, and legends are forced on the Galaxy,” she murmured.

Authenta looked up from her padd, draft for the twenty-fifth notification of death half-completed on it. “Personally, I would take the Galaxy out for a nice dinner and then seduce it.”

Vette snorted, shaking her head. “How are the letters coming?”

“Less well than I should like. Better than they have been. Four more… but they should have been finished two days ago.” She flicked her finger across the padd’s screen, switching from the unfinished condolences to the service record of one Private Ania Delas.

“What are you going to do when you send entire armies off to die?” Vette asked, turning away from the Sith sitting across from her to look back out the window. The severe and forbidding Kaas City skyline grew ever closer, dominated by the three tremendous pikes of the Citadel.

“Drink heavily?” Authenta smiled ruefully. “In all seriousness, notifying families is the responsibility of specific people. On a mission with a single ship, the duty fell onto the shoulders of the Black Talon’s CO.”

“Captain what’s-her-name?”

“Captain Sylas, yes.”

Vette pointed at the padd. “Then why are you writing them?”

Auth took a deep breath, forcing it out through pursed lips. “The operation was my responsibility. Twenty-eight men and women died because of me, Vette.”

“A lot of Republic people died because of you, too.”

“Had they surrendered things could have been different.” Authenta looked out the viewport at the city skyline. The spaceport’s outline was barely visible through the mist.

“Would it have? You can sit here and tell me you’re all noble and kind all you want. But in a fight… you’re extra-special-crazy-flavored, even for a Sith.” Vette shifted in her chair, trying to stealthily avoid eye contact.

“Are you telling me you’ve seen other Sith fight? And lived?”

“I’ve heard stories… in cantinas.”

Authenta ran her fingers through her garnet hair, nimbly twirling it into a loose ponytail. “You want an honest answer?”

“Maybe?”

“I have neither children nor siblings, and in the latter I am the same as my mother. I'm the last of my family, Vette. The end of the line.

It terrifies me. One wrong dodge, one missed parry…” She snapped her fingers. “A thousand year old family, gone.”

Vette’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re afraid of death?”

She shook her head, pointing a finger downward. “All Sith must die. I'm afraid of dying now. Without an heir.”

“So why not just… you know… grab some guy?” Vette made a pouncing motion with her hands.

“I'm far more discerning in whom I might marry than for casual sex.”

“Umm… ouch? I shot you down, but still...” Vette pressed herself into the corner where her seat met the wall.

“That was unintentionally hurtful, wasn't it. I apologise, Vette. I am selective and exacting in all pursuits.” Authenta looked down to the ashen metal floor of the shuttle, collecting the right words. “I meant to say I have yet to find a worthy father for my children.”

“Not easy, huh?” Vette relaxed some, sliding back into the seat proper. “Most guys have a one-hyperlane mind.”

Rolling her eyes, Authenta tried in vain to hide her smile in response to Vette’s comment. “Not that I have been greatly preoccupied with searching, either.”

“Doesn't explain your crazy, though.”

“In fact, it does. I can't let fear paralyze me; surely then I would die. Instead, I feed on my anger. On my hate.”

“The Force is weird.”

“You have no idea.”

Vette made a miserable face. “Not really reassuring me here.”

“I think I understand. You’ve seen what happened to Vemrin, to that Jedi.” Authenta rolled her hand towards her companion. “And you're afraid the same might happen to you.”

Vette nodded, trying to mask her anxiety.

The pilot’s voice coming from the intercom interrupted them. “Touchdown in five minutes, my Lord.”

Authenta stabbed a button on the armrest. “Noted. Do not interrupt me further.”

Her tone softened. “The lightsaber is an elegant weapon, but it is also one with neither pity nor mercy.

“Would it comfort you if I said I consider you a friend, Vette?” She reclined in her chair, shutting down her padd.

“Not even a little.” Vette stuck her tongue out at the Sith.

Smiling sardonically she replied, “I see how it is! You can find someone else to remove your shock collar next time.”

Before Vette could respond, Authenta’s holocom chimed. She stood at once, heeding her master’s call. “What is thy bidding, my master?”

The gaunt frame of Darth Baras stood, hands clasped behind his back and his usual featureless mask upon his face. “Apprentice. It is fortuitous that you have arrived early, as the delivery I have awaited has as well. Do not report to the Citadel, but go directly to cargo dock Besh-7. Meet Commander Lanklyn there and escort the cargo to my chamber. I sense there are eyes upon us, apprentice; time is of the essence!”

Authenta bowed. “My shuttle lands in less than five minutes. I'll have your cargo at the Citadel within the hour, my Lord.”

“I will hold you to that boast; this delivery is invaluable beyond measure.” The connection closed, cerulean image of her master fading away.

“Once more into the fire, huh?” Vette regarded her with a curious expression.

Authenta traced a thumb along her chin spur. “I think we should both be more worried that Baras knew I was planetside.”

“Doesn't the Force tell you people… things?” Vette shrugged.

“Not something so mundane. Darth Baras is a master of deception and spycraft. He has eyes... everywhere.” Auth inclined her head towards the hatch separating the cockpit from the passenger compartment.

“Vette, look; however you’re worried about me or something I might do… I’ve trained all my life to be Sith, to wield the Force. I’ll be fine.”

Her companion hesitated to respond, doing a quick maintenance check on her blasters. “I... Just promise that it'll never be me on the business end of your lightsaber, ok?”

Authenta put a hand over her heart. “On my life and the graves of my ancestors.”

“That's a creepy promise.”

The view outside the transparisteel window spun around as the pilot turned the shuttle, reversing into the hangar. The pallid grey light of Dromund Kaas skies was replaced with a harsh industrial yellow. Depressurizing, the hatch hissed softly and the gangway extended.

“My lord, we’ve arrived.”

“Good. Have our equipment secured at the Citadel. Carry on, Specialist.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

As the two exited the shuttle, Vette exclaimed, “I thought you said we weren't going to walk!”

“I did and we won't. Whatever this cargo is, our speeder bikes likely won't carry it.”

“Right! We’ll need to take a landspeeder, or even a bulk loader.”

Authenta marched down the gangway, Vette trailing behind. “Our own speeders will be held more secure at the Citadel than the spaceport in any case. “We should hurry; our destination is four levels up.”

* * * * *

Ruddy blaster fire criscrossed the freight storage bay, tearing carbonized scores in the walls and crates. Commander Lanklyn and two of his soldiers crouched behind a stack of crates, taking potshots at the warring groups of armed thugs.

“My Lord, I’ll never doubt Darth Baras again.”

Authenta glanced over from where she and Vette were taking cover behind a pillar. From her vantage point she could see the unattended prisoner frozen in carbonite. “We do have to humor him.”

Lanklyn ducked as a blaster bolt ricocheted off the crate, showering him with sparks. “My men and I can get the prisoner to Baras while they’re distracted.”

Her lightsaber ignited in a fluid drone. “Vette and I will cover you. Go!”

Nodding at his subordinates, the two troopers stood in unison. Spraying green blaster fire ahead of them, the three Imperial soldiers ran to the boarding ramp of their cargo shuttle.

Authenta hurled her saber at the nearest thug, spearing him through the back as she leaped after it. She noticed too late the thermal detonator in his hand. It rolled limply from his grip, blinking in warning. She kicked it away in panic, scrambling to shield herself with the Force. The device disappeared in a livid white flash, throwing her backwards into a stack of crates.

Vette ran out, blasters screeching as she skidded across the deck to her companion. Authenta pushed herself to her knees, a searing pain tearing up her right side. Feeling her ribs, her fingers came away wet.

Vette frantically tore at a kolto pouch with trembling fingers. “How are you not dead?!”

“Fight’s... not over, Vette.” Snatching the open pouch, she forced herself to unsteady feet. With a growl against the pain, she squeezed the entire kolto dose into her wound. Renewed agony forced a cough from her, ragged and frothy.

She stole a glance at Lanklyn, realizing she had fared far better. He lay face down on the floor, a smoking black hole in his uniform jacket.

“Soldiers! Prisoner to the Citadel!” She punctuated her order with a sweep of her saber, deflecting a blaster shot back into the face of the houk gangster. Its body convulsed, head a smoldering ruin.

Authenta advanced, lancing her blade’s tip through the neck of a thug crawling away. Her saber purred as the severed head bounced on the floor plating. “Vette, cover their escape!”

Her companion nodded, picking off unwary brigands. The two troopers made a break through the path Vette cleared, hauling the repulsorlift-powered carbonite slab fast as they dared.

Clutching her side, Authenta staggered forward. Another sweep of her saber left a cybernetically-enhanced thug reeling, clutching at her ruined throat as she fell. The pirate captain with shaggy black hair thought he could escape, but he was a fool. She jerked her saber hand, slamming him face-first into a bulkhead. He collapsed on the floor, moaning.

He screamed when she stepped on the fingers of his blaster hand, and started to beg when she crushed him against the wall again. He began to cry for his mother as she pointed her saber low toward him. She snapped her arm upwards, smoky crimson blade following. The pirate fell apart.

Vette gagged. “I think I'm gonna be sick.”

Authenta turned and stumbled, trailing dark droplets as she replied, “I think I am, too…”

She collapsed forward into blackness.

* * * * *

Commander Barus Threno stood behind the pilot’s seat of the Stormstrike-class Imperial heavy gunship Bleakheart, observing the actions of its occupant. This was Private Ellesmere’s first real posting, and she was handling the stress of the impending invasion better than most of the crew. He knew that while still enroute in hyperspace, there was very little work for a pilot; her trial by fire was to come when the planetary gravity well pulled the fleet out in low orbit.

It wasn’t so many years ago that sitting in a chair just like that had been his assignment after graduating from the Imperial Flight Academy. The past two months of flight training and targeting drills among the ships of the Ninth Fleet had all been in preparation for this surprise attack on one of the Republic’s breadbaskets; an Outer Rim agricultural world in the Minos Cluster called Karideph.

The voice of the communications specialist broke the silence. “Sir, we’re receiving a transmission from the Foehammer.”

Swiveling away from where he stood and walking back to the command chair set near the back wall of the cabin, Threno took a deep breath, steeling himself. “On speaker, Moirev.”

“This is Admiral Sorin to all ships of the Imperial Ninth Fleet. Prepare to drop out of hyperspace. Foehammer, Sun Crusher, and Ziost Shadow: I want all Supremacy and Extinction wings deployed and engaging orbital defenses as soon as we hit sublight.

Korriban’s Fury and Rage of Sadow, provide cover fire for the landing craft until they’re in atmo; all other destroyers ready for counterattack attempts. Gunships, you’ve got your target lists; anything else planetside that looks juicy is your discretion. Gages hold formation and follow the fighters and gunships in for second wave assault troop landings. Drop to sublight in T-minus three. Two. One. GLORY TO THE EMPIRE!”

Adjusting his officer’s cap, the edge of Commander Threno’s lip started to curl up into a feral grin. “You heard her, boys and girls. Do the thing!” The undulating waves of hyperspace attenuated into glittering white stars framing a greenish world. A legion of the small, one-man supremacy fighters blazed ahead, dancing with the Republic defenses in lethal fireworks. He turned his seat to the primary gunner station to his left. “Alright, Corporal; fire at will on any targets of opportunity as we fly in. Ellesmere! Let’s see if your live-fire skills are up to drills.”

He could see her tight-lipped smile reflected in the transparisteel viewport as the Bleakheart slalomed down the length of a Republic Thranta-class cruiser. Avoiding return fire from defensive batteries, the forward rotary turbolasers raked pitiless viridian death across the central fuselage. Hull breaches trailed in their wake.

“No pressure, Sir.”

Observing the schematic of nearby starships on the display attached to his captain’s chair, a trio of icons representing Talon starfighters flashed and disappeared. A ring grew out of nothing, swallowed the icon of one of the Republic’s experimental BT-7 assault ships, and then faded away. He turned half around in his seat to shout down the access gangway to the ordnance storage and rear gunner. “Good job keeping the ‘Pubs off our tail, Riordan! Now get ready for showtime, ladies!”

“Seismic charges are a girl’s best friend - I mean, yes sir!”

Turning back to look out the viewport, he saw one of the larger capital ships moving in to try and block their flightpath to the atmosphere of Karideph. “Fly us under their command pod. They wouldn’t dare shoot their own bridge off trying to take us down. So let us do it for them! Two proton torpedoes; fire on target lock.” A chorus of “Yes, sirs!” answered him. Twin silvery-blue streaks arced out from below the cockpit and screamed their way through the battleship’s shields, smashing into its exposed bridge in a livid, ghastly flash.

The Bleakheart skimmed between the main hull and the fulminations above, with a clear view of the planet ahead. “Excellent work, people! Specialist Calrion, what’s that Valor’s status?”

The baritone of his navigator responded in clipped tones. “Bridge gone. Heavy systems damage. Attitude control failing. Orbital re-entry immi-” The rest of his report was lost as Bleakheart pitched heavily. Nearly thrown from his seat, Threno forced himself against the backrest, harnessing himself in as he shouted orders. “Report! What the hell was that?!”

“Surface-to-air heavy turbolaser fire, sir!” The navigator struggled to work his console while pulling himself back into his seat, but private Ellesmere beat him to it. “Impact on starboard sublight engine. I’m losing attitude!”

“Sir, the Bloodfire and Plague Wind are gone. Damnation critically damaged. Can’t-” the navigator’s words died in his throat as the ship dropped down hard, narrowly avoiding huge violet bolts screaming past the viewport.

Threno glared through the transparisteel as though it had killed his akk dog. “Damn! Intel was bad. Get us under their targeting matrix before we eat vacuum!”

Another anti-air hit smashed into the gunship. Barus could hear the rending of durasteel through the starboard bulkhead, and the ship spun. Through the transparisteel of the viewport, he caught alternating glimpses of planet and the battle. Endless flashes of emerald and crimson as the Ninth Fleet and Republic defenses shredded each other, interspersed with an almost serene planet.

“Get us stabilized!”

The hatch to the ordnance compartment zipped shut. Corporal Irisa Kevis’ voice crackled above the screech of klaxons. “Long live the Empire!”

He pounded his fist into the armrest control panel with a staccato rhythm, smashing the display. He cringed at the whooshing sound of the rear bay being sucked into space. “Kark. Kark!” Kevis and Riordan had probably saved the ship by jettisoning the ammunition, but had sacrificed themselves to do it.

“Brace for impact!” The transparisteel viewport cracked as the Bleakheart ploughed into the atmosphere, glowing a furious orange. The damaged starboard wing sheared off with the wind resistance, and he lunged as far as his seat restraint would let him at Private Veldin’s outstretched hand. It wasn’t enough, and the secondary gunner was sucked out of the breach.

Ellesmere called out, “We only have one sublight! Gonna be rough!”

Barus glanced at the thunderstorm in the distance ahead of them. “Pulse the braking thrusters; keep us steady!”

“Already on it, sir!”

The spaceframe groaned as it flew apart piecemeal. The forest below ignited from cascading debris, the Bleakheart tearing itself to pieces in its death throes. Hail smashed into the ship as it plummeted.

The final moments of the gunship were a horrid tangle of creaming crew and metal. The ship impacted the sodden ground and bounced back skyward for a moment before falling back to earth. At the speed they were falling at, the ship carved a tremendous furrow through muddy farmland.

Coming to when he smelled smoke, Barus groggily looked around the remnants of the cockpit. The entire port side was smashed in; the glassy-eyed stare of Corporal Nezera and the blood pooling beneath her seat belied her fate. He couldn’t see Moirev, but his body also had to be crushed in the wreckage.

The starboard side wasn’t in much better shape. The smoke was coming from a ruptured fuel line, the flames already creeping into the breach behind Calrion’s chair. The navigator groaned, swiping at a dark gash on his forehead; at least he was alive.

“Commander? ...Sir? A-anyone? My legs! I can’t feel my legs!” The fear was evident in Ellesmere’s voice as she deliriously clawed at her harness.

Barus’ hand was bloody on the bottom where he’d smashed the display. “I’m here, Rina. Deep breath, stay calm. Don’t move. My seatbelt’s FUBAR; have to cut myself free.” He coughed as he picked a shard of glass from his palm, wincing in pain. Pulling his officer’s vibroknife from its boot sheath, he called out to his comm officer. “Calrion? Jessic! Report!”

“Ugh, my head, sir. With all due respect, not so loud. I think... I’m in one piece.” The clatter of restraints being undone framed his words.

Barus hacked at his harness, the vibroknife humming softly. “Pull everything that isn’t broken from the medical cabinet and then help me with Ellesmere.”

He cut the last of the harness keeping him tied to the chair and returned the knife to its scabbard. Standing waveringly on the twisted deck, he pried open the floor hatch with a boot. He hauled three blaster rifles from their docks and dumped them at the sealed aft hatch. Barus staggered over to Ellesmere, grabbing onto the back of her chair to steady himself. She screamed in pain when her chair moved.

“Damn! Won’t do that again. Sorry Private.” He folded his hands over hers. She was shivering. “Hold still, I’ll get you out.”

“Sir! Salvaged two medkits, another five kolto packs, and an emergency satchel,” Jessic called out.

“Good! Bundle it and get here A-sap.

“Ok, Rina, I’m going to unbuckle you. Try not to move.” He worked the harness buckles, each one clicking free. “Calrion, toss me a blaster rifle!”

Catching the thrown rifle, he thumbed the settings through to plasma torch. “Hold her chair steady, I’m going to cut the base so we can keep her in it as long as possible.”

The navigator’s bulky frame gripped the pilot’s seat, holding it steady. Barus pulled the rifle’s trigger, steadily sawing through the pedestal. The metallic reek of ozone filled the shredded cabin. At last, the seat was cut free, and he threw the rifle to the back.

“Ok, hold it steady. I’ll open the hatch.”

Crawling on his hands and knees the two metres to the rear hatchway, he pulled open the manual release cowling. Hauling on the pressurized handle with both hands, the hatch widened enough to escape after four pumps. The entire aft fuselage of the gunship was gone.

He threw the supply bundle and two rifles out into the mud. Thunder pealed in the storm outside as he turned back to the cabin. “I hope we flew past that. Last thing we need is torrential rain.”

Barus gripped the lip of Ellesmere’s chair across from Calrion. “Ok, on three, pull up. We’ll carry her out.” The fire crackled and hissed, consuming more of the starboard wreckage every moment. “Hurry!

One. Two. Three!”

The two men lifted her up by her chair, trying not to drag her along the crooked deck. “Turn around, I’ll go through the hatch first.”

Barus crawled out backwards, valiantly attempting to support the chair.

“Sir, I think I’m going into shock.”

“Noted, Private.

“Lower your end, Calrion. We’ll slide her out.” Working together, they got themselves and the wounded pilot out of the flaming wreck. Barus looked around. Night was beginning to fall, but the storm cover was too thick to see what was happening in orbit.

Barus grabbed a medkit. “Jessic, build us shelter and a fire. I’ll see to Ellesmere.”

“Yes, sir!” The burly navigator trodded off, carrying the emergency satchel and a blaster rifle slung over a shoulder.

“Good news, private: your legs are both attached. Bad news: they’re in bad shape. Even if we evac’d right now, you’re probably going to lose your right one.” He popped the medkit latch, and pulled a pale blue stim from its holster. He pressed it to her neck. “Just try to relax. This should help, ok?”

Running the field scanner from the kit over Ellesmere, he scowled.

“What is it, sir?”

“More bad news: your spine is broken in two places.”

“Is there any good news, sir?”

“You’re otherwise fine, besides some bruising.”

He pressed his officer’s pistol into her hands. “You might need this. We can’t risk moving you.”

Calrion came running back, holding his rifle at the ready. “Sir! Republic troop shuttle on its way. It’ll be here any moment.”

Barus ran his good hand through his hair. “Just what we need. Play safe; maybe they won’t shoot us on sight.”

“Yes, Sir.” Calrion dropped his rifle in the mud. “Should I retrieve the shelter and supplies?”

“Negative, Specialist. The ‘Pubs can grab our stuff if they take us prisoner. I don’t need you getting killed over weapons, real or imagined. Help me brace Ellesmere; her spine’s broken.”

Calrion looked at his crewmate with sad eyes. “I hope they can fix you.”

“Not much left to fix!” She tried to smile.

The roar of engines grew louder overhead as the men worked. “I could get used to having handsome manservants!” Ellesmere quipped.

“Stow it, Private.”

Landing a dozen meters from the crash site, a platoon of Republic soldiers in white and green armor filed out of the shuttle behind a pale-robed Jedi. The hood of his cloak was up, and a dark beard poked out. A yellow lightsaber held in both hands led the group. “Imperial soldiers! Surrender to the Republic!”

Barus nodded to what was left of his crew; he raised his hands, and his subordinates followed suit. “We’re the only survivors. All injured and not a threat. Please, her back is broken, we desperately need medical aid.”

The Jedi scoffed. “I am not in a position to help Imperials. Where is the Sith?” He spat the last word.

“What Sith? This was a Stormstrike-class gunship… it has a crew of eight. Had.”

“Don’t lie to me! I can feel the Sith nearby!”

Barus shook his head. “Twelve blaster rifles and a lightsaber pointed at me and what’s left of my crew, Jedi. Don’t you think that if there were there a Sith here, you would be negotiating with them?”

The Jedi swung his saber menacingly. “This isn’t a negotiation, Imperial! The Republic should have annihilated your kind a thousand years ago.”

Pointing his lightsaber at Specialist Calrion, the Jedi called over his shoulder, “Kill the big one. He could be a Sith.”

“No! Wait-!”

I'm not a lurker, but I hope my presence is enjoyed for the most part lol.

Nice beginning, loved how you described DK and used one of Vette's best lines.

Haha, Authenta, I bet she would

I like the amount of thought and depth you've given to the aftermath of Black Talon and what it meant for both sides.

That really must be a concern for many of the Sith, that their lines would be extinct without an heir. Makes me wonder about someone like Baras, if he had anyone left behind. For some reason, I'm not inclined to think so...though I had my suspicions about Draaaaahg.

I enjoyed Auth's snippiness, still smarting a bit from Vette's rejection? Very realistic to include that, I like it.

Gaunt--Interesting choice of word to describe Baras...typically meaning lean, but also grim.

So many nice moments between Auth and Vette, I can see they'll grow close quickly, they already are on a good level of communication, they both seem to be able to say what's on their minds.

I like how you joined the fight with Lanklyn in progress.

And this line is exceptional. Simple, elegant, to the point. "Her lightsaber ignited in a fluid drone."

Loved the inclusion of the thermal detonator. Now that would have made a lot of sense in the game, if the thugs had been thinking.

Fascinating take on the Lanklyn drama.

Oooh, love the action here with the Bleakheart. That was quite the battle, and very vividly described.

Hmm, this pale robed Jedi has my attention. I look forward to finding out more about him.

And another cliffy hanger!

I really enjoyed this week's installment and I'm glad to see that you managed to do it how you wanted and post it before your eyes start bleeding lol. It can be tough to meet a deadline. Congrats!

All in all, tightly written, the imagery was detailed and I could imagine everything quite clearly in my mind's eye.

Nice beginning, loved how you described DK and used one of Vette's best lines.

I wanted to start off with a solidly melancholy note; not just to set the tone of the whole episode but also Vette is not exactly thrilled to be in the Kaas system.

Haha, Authenta, I bet she would

Who knows what the future has in store?

I like the amount of thought and depth you've given to the aftermath of Black Talon and what it meant for both sides.

The war isn't on fire again yet, so there's still time to think about the hard questions. And I admit, my teacher is showing a little; when I teach history, especially 20th century, I focus a lot on the human side of war, on the human cost of war. Kids today - Hell, all of us - have no idea what its like to have civilization teeter on the brink because of madmen. Especially since it's Auth's first experience with real war, I want her to struggle.

That really must be a concern for many of the Sith, that their lines would be extinct without an heir. Makes me wonder about someone like Baras, if he had anyone left behind. For some reason, I'm not inclined to think so...though I had my suspicions about Draaaaahg.

Ahahaha, if they ever roll out a DvL event again I'll have to pay attention to that a little more, to see if your suspicions are correct But on a more serious note, It is kind of a vexing notion, isn't it? I think, especially since the Great Hyperspace War, that there'd be so few of the old lines left that it might be something of a niche problem for the families with history. You also run into that old issue with the Dark Side - the endless, almost ravenous pursuit of power might blind many Sith to more present things.

I enjoyed Auth's snippiness, still smarting a bit from Vette's rejection? Very realistic to include that, I like it.

ehehehe

Gaunt--Interesting choice of word to describe Baras...typically meaning lean, but also grim.

It's a personal thing, but I specifically try to remind my readers whenever Baras shows up that his physical portrayal in-game is hardly the reality of things.

No comment though on the Empire Strikes Back reference? *sad*

So many nice moments between Auth and Vette, I can see they'll grow close quickly, they already are on a good level of communication, they both seem to be able to say what's on their minds.

It can never hurt an up-and-coming Sith to have someone close who isn't about to butt-kiss to curry favor. Vette is a natural

I like how you joined the fight with Lanklyn in progress.

The dialogue there isn't the greatest and it just didn't interest me enough to include. Besides, we've had a couple of quiet episodes; it was time for some action! There is a little bit of it, I kept two lines, because I liked them specifically.

And this line is exceptional. Simple, elegant, to the point. "Her lightsaber ignited in a fluid drone."

YUS! YUSSSS! A compliment on economy of form!

Loved the inclusion of the thermal detonator. Now that would have made a lot of sense in the game, if the thugs had been thinking.

I can't exactly take credit for it. If you manage to play the two groups against each other, one of the guys does throw one, although it doesn't actually kill any NPCs. I just put a more realistic spin on it! People aren't safe, bad things can happen.

Fascinating take on the Lanklyn drama.

There are a lot of things I want to do differently - or not at all - because they aren't narratively interesting. Dromund Kaas is but the first.

Oooh, love the action here with the Bleakheart. That was quite the battle, and very vividly described.

Did you catch anything curious about it? Maybe in some of the word choices, or perhaps the way characters in which have already shown up are referred? Perhaps in the way some act? I left a lot of clues to be found

Fun fact: I loosely based the Stormstrike class in use/performance on an American B-29 bomber (the big ones used in World War 2, the cockpit of which was the inspiration for the Millennium Falcon's). I shaved the crew from 11 to 8 because some positions on a B-29 crew don't exist with modern technology, and even drew a rough schematic of the ship with where everything is and where everyone sits

To empathize with the crew more, I also gave everyone a rank and full name even if not mentioned.

Hmm, this pale robed Jedi has my attention. I look forward to finding out more about him.

And another cliffy hanger!

ehehehehe, what is his deal? Tune in next week! Same Sith time, same Sith channel to find out!

The Jedi slashed his saber downward. A callous litany of red blaster fire opened up from the Republic platoon. Jessic Calrion screamed, spun around by the impacts. The soldiers didn’t stop firing until all that was left of him were charred skeletal remains.

“What the kark! What the karking kark?! You’re all monsters! He was unarmed!” Barus screamed at the so-called Jedi.

The Jedi sneered. “I clearly saw him holding a blaster rifle, Imperial. Now tell me where the Sith is, or I’ll put your little filth out of her misery, too.”

Tears leaked out of Ellesmere’s lashes. Her breath kept hitching, trying to hide sobs.

A flash of gold in the corner of his eye caught Barus’ attention. Keeping his glare locked straight on the Jedi, he could see a lithe form crouched on a rock behind the Republic platoon. The figure wore black and white robes with golden accents. She nodded at Barus, pulling a lightsaber from each hip.

“Fine! You want the Sith so badly? You’ll have more of her than you can handle!”

“What are you playing at, Imp-?!”

The Sith leaped from the rock, sabers howling through the air as she smashed into the middle of the platoon. A fiery saber and its not-quite twin colored the churning black and orange of embers blitzed through the Republic soldiers. Four were mutilated before even the Jedi had a chance to react. She bounced through the platoon, a bloodstained hurricane rending the soldiers with all the mercy they deserved.

The Jedi tried to throw her away with the Force. Anticipating such a tactic, she jumped into the air the moment he moved, pirouetting over the wave. Tossing a saber each at two soldiers while in midair, they died screaming. She landed nimbly, catching her lit sabers when the hilts returned.

Barus lunged for the rifle at his feet and snapped off half a dozen shots, killing the last three Republic troopers. Kneeling in the mud, he held the barrel steady as he could. Waiting. Hoping for an opening to personally execute the Jedi that had murdered his crew member and friend.

The Sith danced around the Jedi, constantly keeping him on the defensive with wide looping slashes and swift acrobatics. She knocked his saber away with a parry, lancing the tip of her other blade through his hand. He cried out, but she was relentless; both sabers plunged into his gut. The Sith hefted her impaled victim over her head, then snapped her arms forward and down. The Jedi fell apart.

Rina Ellesmere’s shoulders shook as she cried. Each breath unleashed throbbing pain in her back, but she didn't care. Nearly all her crewmates died in the crash, and the Republic had just slaughtered her friend.

She railed against herself, heroically attempting to not look at what remained of Jessic. A dark shape blocked her vision and she tilted her head up. The Sith that had saved her kneeled.

“Pull yourself together, private. My ship is on its way.” She brushed errant strands of dark hair from Rina’s face.

“But your leg needs to go before infection sets in. I’m going to use my lightsaber; it will hurt, but it will be fast.”

Rina stifled a laugh that burst through her tears. “I can’t feel my legs anyway. Where’s the Commander?”

“Burying your crewmate.”

Barus had jammed a piece of the Bleakheart’s hull plating in the sodden ground. He finished carving initials and service numbers, one each for the six men and women who had died. Switching the blaster rifle off, he propped it up against the makeshift marker, futilely wiping at a tear with his muddy uniform sleeve.

He looked up in time to see the Sith’s lightsaber flash in the darkness for a moment as she stood. Rina cried out in reflexive fear as her ruined leg was severed.

The Sith turned towards him, but her words were drowned out in the thunder of Imperial sunlight engines. He looked up, running lights limning the predatory outline of a Fury-class interceptor. It didn't land in the muck, but hovered low. The Sith raised her hands, pulling Ellesmere up, pilot’s chair and all. She was dropped into the arms of two medical corps troopers waiting on the extended ramp.

Waving her hand as she climbed up, he hesitated to heed her. To leave the bodies of his crew behind. Barus envied the Sith. If he were Force-sensitive, he could have known something, done something. His crew could have come home heroes instead of memories.

Her arm hesitated mid-gesture, and she was still a moment. Then she leaped at him.

* * * * *

Authenta snapped awake. She panicked, but her body refused to properly obey… until she realized she wasn’t in the Kaas City spaceport.

A bed. She was lying down. Her limbs finally relented enough that she managed to roll on her left side. The shift caused her ribs to ache and she remembered. Getting caught in the thermal detonator explosion; bleeding heavily; she carved the pirate in half and then… darkness.

She pushed herself up on an elbow, and the room melted. Authenta collapsed back into the pillows, screwing her eyes shut. The dream was terrifying. It couldn't be memories; events happened before her birth. The Force? What use is a vision of the past? She woozily shook her head and reopened her eyes.

Moving slower this time, the room cooperated. She was in the master bedroom of the apartment her father used to keep near the Citadel. The midnight blue shimmersilk sheets sloughed from her shoulders as she gingerly sat up. Although clean, the room looked no different than it had years ago.

She slipped her legs off the bed, taking stock of herself. Everything was where it should be and seemingly worked; only sore. She was wearing a standard Imperial medical gown in pale grey.

Authenta attempted to stand; her legs buckled and she dropped back into the bed. Grumbling to herself, she stared at the ceiling. Where was Vette? She pushed herself to a sitting position once again, as quickly as she felt able. She had no idea how she ended up here, and there was a solid chance Vette had been made scapegoat for what happened at the spaceport.

Cocking her head, she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard her friend’s voice. It sounded like she'd discovered the sabacc table, and was getting fleeced.

Authenta looked about the room. A charcoal colored bathrobe hung on a hook, and if she knew her father’s 2V unit, the drawers were full of uniforms and clothing that wouldn't fit. She ran her hands through her hair, considering.

Pushing herself to standing, she leaned against the night table first and then the wall for support. The medical gown slipped loose as she crossed the room, crumpling to the floor. Authenta pursed her lips, silently telling it what she thought as she tightened the bathrobe about herself. Glancing out the open doorway, she spied the servant droid carrying a bright cocktail.

Vette huffed in irritation. “Now I'm sure the AI in this table cheats!”

The silvery-blue droid set her meltdown on the side table beside the couch. “Of course it does. It's a Hutt model, mistress Vette.”

She shook her head. “Did you just call me ‘mistress’ again, 2V-D7?”

“It's only proper. You are neither Sith nor military, and the master is unmarried. Therefore you must be her mistress.” 2V shrugged plaintively.

“‘Friend’ isn't in your vocabulator?”

The droid was silent a moment. “Imperial records indicate you are the master’s slave. Slaves cannot be friends therefore you must be her mistress, mistress Vette.”

She flopped back into the dark leatheris, hands in the air. “I give up!”

“2V-D7, voiceprint authorization code Stormherald. Modify Vette’s citizenship status to ‘freelance bounty hunter: personal contract.’ Confirm.”

The droid halted in place, its voice monotonously abrupt. “Working. Complete. Confirmed.”

Vette jumped up from the couch, nearly spilling her forgotten drink. “You’re awake!”

Authenta held up a hand before Vette could tackle her. “Please don't hug me. Yet. I'm not leaning on the doorframe to be sultry… I can barely stand.”

Grabbing Authenta’s arm, vette helped her to the couch. “I don’t - did you really - I’m free free?”

Wincing as she settled against the armrest, Authenta said, “No ‘How are you feeling?’ or ‘Are you hungry?’ or ‘How are you not dead?’

“And yes, you’re free. As a freelance ‘bounty hunter’ you’ll avoid conscription and answer only to me - or a ranking Lord.”

Vette pounced, pulling Auth into a hug.

“What did I just say?”

“You’re not standing!” Vette stuck her tongue out at the Sith as she pulled back.

Rubbing her ribs, Authenta scowled. “I’m sore in places I did not realize I had.”

“Better than dead in places you know about.”

“How long was I out for?” She ran a hand through her hair.

Vette looked away, regarding the endless patter of rain on the windows. “Almost two weeks. You’ve been-”

Authenta straightened, and fell back against the sofa in immediate regret. “Two weeks?!”

“Yeah, you almost died. Medics said if you weren't Sith, you’d have been transported in a bag and not a kolto tank. We’ve been here for the last day and a half. You got moved... the Citadel hospital needed the tank space when starship bits started raining from the sky.”

Sitting up, Authenta pulled her bathrobe tighter. “What? Did the war start again?”

“I hope not? There was this big broadcast… terrorists blew up a star destroyer.”

“Which?”

“Uhh… the Dominator. I think.”

“What?!”

Vette shrugged. “Why? What’s so special about it? I mean besides the obvious.”

Authenta ran a shaking hand through her hair. “2V, bring a bottle of Kalsunor Blackwatch.

“The Dominator is - was - the ship of a Dark Councillor. Darth Jadus. One of the twelve most powerful Sith in the Empire.”

Vette looked at the greyscale pattern in the carpet. “So it's really bad?”

The droid set down an engraved tray holding an angular bottle and a tumbler. Authenta poured herself a glass of liquid nearly the same shade as the sofa. “You said it was terrorists? Intelligence wouldn't release that kind of information.”

“They sliced holocoms, taking credit. Some guy’s face was everywhere.

“Should you really be drinking?”

“Am I going to regret this, you ask? Most likely. Am I still going to? Yes.

“Vette, that’s... how my father died. He was a fleet admiral serving under Darth Marr. His ship was sabotaged. Most of the crew escaped, but he…” Authenta rubbed her eyes.

Vette pulled her into a much more gentle hug. “You think they're connected?”

Auth was silent for some time. “Two nearly identical assassination attempts on Dark Councillors less than a month apart? How could they not be?”

She sighed and swirled the tumbler, watching the legs creep. Authenta tipped the tumbler to her lips, draining it. Standing steadier this time, she shook her head in resignation. “There is nothing we can do regarding Jadus anyway. We’re Military Offense.”

“We’re what?”

She waved a hand at her still-sitting companion. “The Dark Council aren't just the twelve mightiest Sith. They each oversee one twelfth of the Empire; called a Sphere. Darth Marr heads Defense of the Empire. Baras’ master, Darth Vengean, heads Military Offense.”

Vette shifted her weight uncomfortably. “So if the war started again, we’d be stuck on the front lines?”

“It would be glorious! Where is my lightsaber?” She looked around the spartan apartment.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Vette pointed down the hall. “I put it on the desk in the other room. Makes my skin crawl just touching it. Padd and holocom are there too.”

Authenta retrieved her gear, slipping them into the robe’s pockets. “We should get moving; the ancient Lords alone know how angry Baras is, if I haven’t been replaced already. I’m also ravenous and need new armor. And I need to make a contact in Intelligence.”

“You’re going out like that?” Vette asked.

“I haven’t been in this suite since I was nineteen. I didn’t even know my father still owned it, and there isn’t anything else to wear. We’ll just have to be quick; I’m not wearing anything underneath.” Authenta shrugged.

“I didn’t need to know that.”

She grinned. “I’m sure many people in Kaas City would love to know.”

Vette covered her face with her hands. “Please don’t go streaking. I already spent three days in a holding cell.”

“What? On whose authority?” Authenta spun around, crimson lightning coiling about her closed fist.

Vette shrugged. “Military? Big shootout happens in a spaceport and the only one left standing is a twi’lek, well…”

“How did you get out? I wouldn’t think Baras would care.” Auth’s hand relaxed.

“Commander Lanklyn’s troops vouched and bailed me out. He’s in rough shape; worse than you.”

“Dead?”

“I think he’d prefer it.”

She keyed in the call lift command, then punched the doorframe. “That was supposed to be an easy pickup, and it karked up spectacularly.”

“Even as bad as you think things have gone… we haven’t actually failed anything. That’s something, right?” Vette put her hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Authenta massaged her left knuckles. A hint of predatory smirk picked up the corner of her lips. “We are undefeated, from a certain point of view.”

Arriving in utter silence, the lift doors parted. Vette grinned. “Let’s go seduce the Galaxy?”

“How much have you had to drink?”

Exciting start, getting to see into the past a bit was quite something. Admittedly I felt a little disoriented at first, not sure if that was on purpose or not, but it did take me a bit to realize, oh ok, this is a dream. In other stories and something I've done too, italics work great for dreams to set them apart from the now.

I'm curious to see where this is leading to, as I think it's going to lead up to quite an important memory or discovery for Auth.

Really enjoyed the way you described the battle between the Sith and the Jedi and all the stuff going on around them.

That moment when Rina laughed, that was horrifying I knew she couldn't feel her legs! And then you made it so. Really chilling moment. Loved that.

And then we go to the awakening, very well done too, realistic how Auth woke up, dazed and confused because of the dream and because of what her last memories were of the spaceport.

Whew, glad Vette is okay, I did worry a bit about her.

I also giggled at the exchange between Vette and 2V about the whole mistress thing lol. Wow. I'm glad it worked out for her though, being a freelance BH is better than slave status. That was quite generous of Auth to do.

Also enjoyed the part where Auth was all, 'don't hug me' cause she was hurting because we all know Vette is capable of what I call the 'huggle-pounce' lol

The 'greyscale' rug was an interesting choice of description...made me think of GoT and poor Jorah Hideous rug then huh?

I do like that you had realistic consequences following the incident at the port and with the thermal detonator. We never really got that in the game.

Oooh, you're linking in the events about the Dominator too. I love the timing of how Auth has her own adventure and then *this* happens and makes big news. Makes it really feel like the Empire isn't so stable right now.

Ahh, and now I see why...and I enjoy the parallels between Auth's dad's history and what happened with Jadus' ship.

Interesting.

Vette....understandably not thrilled to learn about getting to be on the frontlines of a war. And I like how you made the Spheres mean something to them...that just because this happened to Jadus, doesn't' automatically make it their problem. Yet.

Poor Vette, that's pretty believable that they'd throw her in jail over the whole thing. Good of Lanklyn's people to get her out cause I doubt Baras would care as you say.

Well, Divi, another great chapter! I'm looking forward to the next.

Exciting start, getting to see into the past a bit was quite something. Admittedly I felt a little disoriented at first, not sure if that was on purpose or not, but it did take me a bit to realize, oh ok, this is a dream. In other stories and something I've done too, italics work great for dreams to set them apart from the now.

I had considered that, but the end of the previous chapter I used a space break and well, while it worked there I probably should have italicized the rest right away. And then here I was kind of forced to keep formatting consistent. Learning experience!

I'm curious to see where this is leading to, as I think it's going to lead up to quite an important memory or discovery for Auth.

I hope things live up to expectations haha

Really enjoyed the way you described the battle between the Sith and the Jedi and all the stuff going on around them.

I had to work very hard to say nothing when you were like "Hmm, this pale robed Jedi has my attention. I look forward to finding out more about him." On a more serious note, I feel like things could have been fleshed out, perhaps developed a bit more to more effectively convey just how out of established character (for a Jedi) things were proceeding. Learning Experience!

That moment when Rina laughed, that was horrifying I knew she couldn't feel her legs! And then you made it so. Really chilling moment. Loved that.

Thanks! I'm glad I was effective in portraying just how bad of a state she's in (mostly mentally at this point).

And then we go to the awakening, very well done too, realistic how Auth woke up, dazed and confused because of the dream and because of what her last memories were of the spaceport.

There was a lot of editing and rearranging here, playing around with the order in which things happen, what she does where, to make it feel real.

Whew, glad Vette is okay, I did worry a bit about her.

Fun fact: a lot of the reason this chapter is so short is because I realized somewhere around midnight on Tuesday that Vette wouldn't be chilling in an apartment waiting for Authenta to wake up (the now-part originally started with Vette complaining about the sabacc table). She'd be rotting in a cell awaiting execution. So I ended up utterly stuck with how do I handle that? DO I handle that? In the end I kind of took the... lazy and/or time-crunch route and threw it in as kind of a little exposition. Could I have done better and/or more realistically? Probably. Did I? No. Should I have? Godsdamned right.

I also giggled at the exchange between Vette and 2V about the whole mistress thing lol. Wow. I'm glad it worked out for her though, being a freelance BH is better than slave status. That was quite generous of Auth to do.

I found it amusing to write as well. poor 2V unit, just trying to be sycophantic and Vette is having none of it

It made sense, because if Vette just ended up a citizen, she'd be drafted - if not now then certainly when the war starts. Military service in the Empire is compulsory, after all.[

Also enjoyed the part where Auth was all, 'don't hug me' cause she was hurting because we all know Vette is capable of what I call the 'huggle-pounce' lol

Vette got her anyway. There's no stopping the huggle-pounce!

The 'greyscale' rug was an interesting choice of description...made me think of GoT and poor Jorah Hideous rug then huh?

Fun fact: I had no idea what you were talking about until I looked it up. That's gross, and definitely not intentional. I used greyscale here because that's what visual arts call pieces (or even what printers call printouts) that are only in black and white. The idea was more that the carpet's pattern was in various shades of grey rather than an allusion to a creeeeepy AF disease. oops x_x

I do like that you had realistic consequences following the incident at the port and with the thermal detonator. We never really got that in the game.

I feel like this isn't the first time Authenta is going to be virtually muttering "take a week-long kolto bath and the Galaxy just goes to pot"

Oooh, you're linking in the events about the Dominator too. I love the timing of how Auth has her own adventure and then *this* happens and makes big news. Makes it really feel like the Empire isn't so stable right now.

I'm glad you liked it! I figure things are going on, things are happening. It's a big galaxy. The Republic is getting complacent and the Empire is getting antsy. There are a lot of Sith with their spoons in the soup right now. It's also a very very clever thing I'm proud of which will become relevant in the future.

Ahh, and now I see why...and I enjoy the parallels between Auth's dad's history and what happened with Jadus' ship.

Interesting.

This occurred to me as I was writing in Vette filling in Authenta on things she'd missed being stuck in a kolto tank, and then I rolled with it. It's definitely a deeply cutting subject for her.

Vette....understandably not thrilled to learn about getting to be on the frontlines of a war.

Indeed not. She's not a soldier but she's seen some ****, being part of Nok Drayen's gang. I discovered an article on Iceberg theory a few days ago, and I'm feeling the need to try it out on Vette. In my head she's an easy character to try it with, because as players, my readers probably already know her backstory. So if I do a terrible job it's not like the reader is missing out on a whole lot of things.

And I like how you made the Spheres mean something to them...that just because this happened to Jadus, doesn't' automatically make it their problem. Yet.

hehe, "Yet." You wouldn't happen to be guessing as to what might happen in the future, are you? Also yes, if the Dark Council literally controls 1/12 of the Empire each, there has to be real consequences for that. You hardly see it in game except rarely (Lachris is Marr's apprentice, the Imperial Nar Shaddaa Bonus Series quest giver is Mortis' apprentice), but it would be all-pervasive in reality. Especially for someone like Authenta who through sheer luck wound up two murders away from a Council seat.

Poor Vette, that's pretty believable that they'd throw her in jail over the whole thing. Good of Lanklyn's people to get her out cause I doubt Baras would care as you say.

I wrote more on this above. I really feel like I should have explored that more, done something with it. Made it FEEL real. Learning experience! I suppose.

Lightning in purplish-blue shades thundered throughout the chamber, deep within the Citadel. Carbon scoring lashed the walls, floor, and ceiling. Burned-out lights and electronics were a grim testament to the unbridled - and impotent - rage of its master.

The man strapped to the interrogation table writhed and screamed hoarsely. Dried blood trailed from dozens of intentional cuts on his naked body. All the flesh had been peeled from one hand, and his nose was gone, as were other things. But the moment the electrical barrage was over, he spat at Darth Baras. “Choke on your own rot, Sith!”

Baras backhanded him, and the Republic spy’s head lolled in a daze. Durasteel plates buckled and cracked, popped rivets skittering cross the floor. The Darth turned away, robes flaring. A utilitarian desk and lone chair smashed into the wall, grinding down into a broken mess.

Baras screamed, “I cannot break him!”

His fury echoed in the hall Authenta and Vette strode down. Both hesitated, and the Sith turned to her companion. “Spare yourself, Vette. You shouldn't have to witness this.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I'll uhh… wait here.” Vette glanced nervously down the hall to Authenta’s destination. She pulled her duster shut against the sudden chill.

“This shouldn't take long.” She turned away, black military-style fitted cape trailing behind her. Armored boots clicking on the floor, she entered the interrogation chamber and bowed.

“My lord.”

“Mind your tongue, or I will cut it out!” The atrocious wail of rending durasteel underscored Baras’ words. “This Republic spy is the key. He knows; he is the pin securing the veil over the threat we face!

“But he resists everything!” Darth Baras drove a gloved fist into the man’s stomach, just below his ribs. He coughed and retched, fetid yellow bile dribbling down his chin.

“No amount of torture of the body or mind pries what I want from him! He is immune even to truth serum! Some unknown power shields this man and it defies me!”

Authenta bowed again. “Trust your feelings, master.”

Baras laughed, a sharp, mirthless sound. “The minion advises the master. Very good, you demonstrate your progress.

There is one last possibility to break my prisoner. I had thought it impossible, but with my suspicions confirmed you may be able to succeed.”

Taking a half-step back, Authenta’s mind raced. “My lord, surely someone with your wisdom and experience is a far superior interrogator to myself.”

“No, apprentice. Your talents would be wasted on such crass duties. You are aware of the Dark Temple, I presume?” Baras paced in front of the barely coherent prisoner.

“I have heard tales. But even had I not, I can feel it out in the jungle, unrelenting in its seductive pull.” She glanced towards the west wall, behind which she could sense the endless flow of darkness, kilometers distant.

“The Emperor conducted horrifying experiments there to drain the essences of life and knowledge from the greatest Sith lords.” Baras glided to a still-functioning interface panel, and brought up an image of a thin and unassuming metal diadem. “To that end, he created an instrument called the Ravager; it ate away at its victim’s mind, and delivered their greatest secrets to the Emperor. Nothing and no one could resist it.”

Authenta regarded the display. “If this device exists, it will tell you exactly what you want.”

“And, apprentice, it will be found in the Dark Temple, forgotten for a thousand years.” Baras switched off the screen.

“Forgive my question, but… is it not that only the Council and the Emperor himself may enter the Temple?”

Darth Baras clasped his hands behind his back and returned to pacing, bloodied turquoise robe trailing behind. "Under normal circumstances yes, but Darth Arctis sent an archaeological expedition there. They delved too greedily, and who knows what they awoke in the darkness?” He rolled a hand as he elucidated. “What remains of the expedition was driven insane, and attacks on sight. You will be able to slip inside unnoticed by the military in the chaos.”

Authenta stared at her crimson palm. Closing her fist she raised her gaze to her master. “I have my work cut out, then. I will not return until I have found the Ravager.”

“See that you do, apprentice. I tolerated your recovery only because I sense great power within you.

But I do not give second chances. This is worth more to me than your life.” The subtly-hidden door to Baras’ office slid open and he disappeared into his sanctum.

Her shoulders slumped, and she regarded the weakly moaning and battered Republic spy for some time. The eyes let flow with tears, then blood, then the very soul… She hated the Republic with every fiber of her being, but she had heard of the weapon the Emperor created before... and how its victims died.

Authenta walked back towards Vette, tying her hair back into a loose ponytail. She blew a steadying breath out her nose and asked, “How much of that did you hear?”

Vette shivered, tugging at her duster. “Mostly the yelling about how the Republic spy resisted ‘even truth serum.’ That's not actually a thing, is it? It's just…” Vette glanced back to the chamber as they departed. “... holonovel stuff, right?”

Authenta said nothing, merely offering an apologetic smile.

“Really? Really?”

She spread her hands. “I had only heard rumors from my father. Experimental, or only works on humans, or a dozen other things. Few know any-” she snorted at the irony. “-Truth of it; you could ask Intelligence. If you want to mysteriously disappear, that is.”

“Not even a little.” Vette crossed her arms.

“You're going to like even less where at least one of us is going next.”

Vette eyed her suspiciously. “What's that supposed to me- ugh, instant headache.” She shielded her eyes.

The technicians were gone from the base of the giant holoprojector in the Citadel’s main atrium. A series of Imperial logos slowly wheeled about instead, blazing viridian.

“Keep your voice down!” Authenta hissed. She rubbed a hand down her face. “You're not wrong, though.”

As they stepped out into the afternoon grey of Kaas City, Vette blinked and shook her head. “So where are we going that I'm not gonna like?”

“Imperial Intelligence.”

“Eww.”

“It gets better.” Authenta grinned sardonically. “Baras has ordered me to enter the Dark Temple and pillage an ancient torture device invented by the Emperor.”

“I'm beginning to think I live in a bad holonovel.” Vette slumped against her charcoal aratech Eclipse.

“There’s more; I'll explain when we’re there.”

“You're doing the opposite of convincing me right now.” She stuck her tongue out at the Sith.

“If it makes you feel better, you don't have clearance to go inside Intelligence headquarters.” Authenta slid her thumb across the throttle lock on her speeder. The biometric scanner blinked green and the Vectron’s engines growled to life.

Vette fired up her own speeder. “It kinda does, yeah. Want me to grab food while I wait?”

Auth pulled a credit chit from her belt and tossed it at her companion. “On me. This may take a while, depending on how badly a Watcher wants to helpfully grovel.”

Her companion snatched the chit out of the air. “I can pay for it; I’ve been living on your credits since we met.”

Auth waved a hand dismissively. “Trust me. You can pick up the tab if we ever end up in Hutt space.”

“Fine! You win! Have ‘fun’ in there. Catch up later!” Vette jumped onto her speeder and flew off across the chasm separating the Citadel from Kaas city proper.

Pulling back on the handlebars and leaning sideways, Authenta spun her Wraith around into the air. Straightening, she pressed down with the balls of her feet, shooting at a height of four metres towards the spire of Imperial Intelligence. Although there were skybridges connecting it to the Citadel, she had no idea how to access them. Nor where they might lead if she did.

Warm, humid wind whipped at her hair as she touched down in the designated speeder holding area outside Intelligence. Disembarking, she looked up at the grey, foreboding tower rising nearly into the clouds.

The plain glass doors slid apart when she approached. There were no guards, and the entranceway was seemingly deserted. But she suspected appearances did not conform to reality where Intelligence was concerned.

As if on cue, as she strode deeper into the complex, part of a durasteel wall shimmered, revealing itself to be holographic. A transparisteel door irised open where the illusion was, and a stunning Chiss glided through. The door shut behind her and the holomatrix reengaged with hardly a whisper. Wearing a plain brown leatheris duster over a beige tunic and breeches with knee-high boots, she epitomized the ‘Outer Rim smuggler’ look.

Smoothly snapping to attention, the Chiss bowed to perfectly regulation depth. “My Lord, how may I assist you?” Her accent was strong and lilting. Combined with her physical attractiveness and plain clothing, Authenta had no doubt the woman was a field operative.

Authenta clasped her hands behind her back. “I want information on the assassination of Darth Jadus and the attempted assassination of Darth Marr last month.”

“I have no information on either of those events, my lord.”

Crossing her arms in front of her, Authenta arched a brow. “We both know that’s a lie.”

The Chiss bowed again. “My lord, with utmost respect my mission is both urgent and time sensitive. If you are willing to wait, a Watcher will be with you as soon as one is available.”

“What’s your name, agent?”

“Cipher Nine, my lord.”

“Clever, but you know that’s not the answer I want.”

The agent looked away. “My Core name is Vaendis, my lord.”

“Mhm, and do you have family in the Ascendancy, Vaendis?” Her featureless red eyes were nearly impossible to read, but Authenta could sense the agent’s unease.

“I do, my lord.”

“Drop the ‘my lord.’ It gets irritating after every sentence. Now, have you ever lost family?”

“As you wish, and I-”

“That’s enough, Cipher.” A balding, sharp-featured man with clicking boots and a padd tucked into the crook of his arm rounded a corner in the hallway. His transfixing gaze missed nothing.

“You’re not threatening my agent are you, Authenta, apprentice of Darth Baras?”

A thin smile played across her lips. “On the contrary, I was curious if she has had similar experiences and might understand where I’m coming from.”

“Cipher: you are dismissed. Return to your duties.”

With a brief salute, the Chiss disappeared.

“If you will accompany me to my office?” The man turned on his heel, and Authenta followed in silence. Taking a lift, the doors swished open to a catwalk bounded on either side by glass. Far below, dozens of Intelligence agents sat at desks, around holoprojectors, or stood, discussing facts and figures on displays. The far end of the catwalk ended in a single, modest door. It turned inward as the man approached, and closed silently behind Authenta.

“My lord, I am Keeper. And I would appreciate you not accosting my field agents in the future.”

The corner of her mouth curled upwards, as she looked about the spartan decorations. The office was dominated by a large window, battered by an afternoon rainstorm. “For a man as highly respected as you are, I must say I am surprised at how bare your office is.”

“It serves its purpose, as do all here. Concerning your father - that is why you are here, is it not? - the two attacks are unrelated.” He sat in the high-backed duralumin and cloth chair behind the desk.

“The Fist of Tulak Hord was destroyed by sabotage, while Darth Jadus was murdered through the use of an explosive device, probably affixed to the Dominator’s central power grid. Additionally, a terrorist group claimed responsibility almost immediately, as you were no doubt informed.”

Authenta’s eyes narrowed. “And this is truly all you know?”

“We believe the Republic is responsible for the sabotage which claimed the life of the Fleet Admiral, among others. This is all I will share. Should it please you, I will contact you with further details as soon as doing so will not compromise the investigation.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “So be it. I will hold you to that promise.”

“You do your family proud, my lord.”

Authenta saluted him and turned away. As she was striding through the door, Keeper called back to her, “The agent would have lied to you, as per training.”

She stopped a moment, her golden eyes pitted against his icy ones. “I want that Cipher’s holocom frequency.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Retracing her footsteps, she emerged into a rumbling thunderstorm, as if the Emperor himself knew where she was headed. She pulled out her holocom and dialed Vette.

* * * * *

Authenta raced through the jungle, dodging trees with her Vectron halfway between the canopy and ground. Vette had pulled far ahead, slaloming around branches, trunks, and rocky outcroppings in the jungle with an uncanny ease that couldn’t wholly be due to the high-end speeder she drove.

She’d lost sight of her companion, but thankfully the rain had ceased. Vette had the coordinates so she couldn’t be lost, and Authenta was certain she’d have heard a crash. Out of nowhere, a dark shape came streaking towards her from behind a gigantic trunk. Authenta swore and pitched her speeder low hoping to dodge whatever it was. She could clearly hear Vette yelling “pew pew!” and laughing as the shape rushed past overhead.

Authenta pulled her speeder back level as Vette swung around beside her. “That was great! You should have seen the look on your face!”

“What is it you do? Ah, yes; this.” She stuck her tongue out at her companion.

Vette huffed. “Hey! That’s my line. So... are we there yet?”

Closing her eyes and feeling the shadows, the Dark Temple called out to Authenta. “Nearly so. The Temple is on the other side of that ridge.” She jerked back and sideways on the handlebars of her speeder, pointing it towards the mountains.

“So what’s the plan?”

“Fly in high, drop down above the entrance. The temple itself is similar in shape to the Academy on Korriban, and it’s doubtful insane slaves and IRS officers will be looking there.”

“IRS?” Vette cocked her head.

“Imperial Reclamation Service. A division of the military somewhere between archaeologists and black market looters.”

“Not my first guess. So we hide the speeders where nobody will see, and then hop down right behind them?”

“Precisely.”

That's quite the imagery to set up the scene where Grik Sonosan is being interrogated by Baras. Loved the brutality of it, much more realistic than what we got in the game, but then again, the game only allows so much owing to the rating.

You captured Baras' rage perfectly. I'll never get over how angry he was here lol. He was usually so soft-spoken and calm. I think the agent did a far better job of breaking him, than the other way around.

I enjoyed this line from Authenta about the Dark Temple.

“I have heard tales. But even had I not, I can feel it out in the jungle, unrelenting in its seductive pull.”

I also enjoyed how you combined Arctis' expedition with the warrior story.

Of course, Baras 'tolerated' her recovery. What a guy. Who else is he going to get that's powerful enough to do all his chores for him? He's certainly not going to do it lol.

In sparing Vette the interrogation we missed some of the fun lines, where SW get's to passive-aggressively snark at Baras, but that's ok, I don't see Auth doing that anyway.

As an aside, it always amused me, how they send you to the dark temple to find a thing you have no idea how to find, or what it looks like if it even works or exists after all that time.

That was nice, to include something so regular as the conversation about food, between Vette and Auth. So much is mystical and amazing about this universe that ordinary things are overlooked and can often be quietly fascinating.

Authenta clasped her hands behind her back. “I want information on the assassination of Darth Jadus and the attempted assassination of Darth Marr last month.”

Interesting, if the attempted assassination of Darth Marr, took place a month previous to Jadus' (if you're still referring to the failed Operation: Cornerstone) that would make my Jedi Liatrix, a little girl at this point in time in your timeline--so Authenta would be significantly older as would Vette. I think that's right, though the migraine I'm suffering through right now might be affecting my thought process...

I'd always considered SW and Jedi Knight to be contemporaries in my little world, but of course, this is your world, I just find it fascinating to consider.

Yay, Keeper And he has nerve, love it. I always respected that about him.

Nice bit of fun there at the end, as they make their way to the temple. Cool to have that after so much seriousness.

Lovely chapter, Divi. As always, I've enjoyed it muchly.