He really loved her back then. Rylee Dray, the cultist on Nar Shaddaa, had been in his thoughts more and more often lately. Mel'ake didn't like fighting or killing or making life hard for others, but he let his dark passions take over for a whirlwind romance that ended with a promise he couldn't keep. As he lay in bed, half asleep next to the steadily snoring Ashara, his mind again turned to the incident that was the proof he held darkness inside his heart. He called Rylee several times in the past few days to check on how she was doing, but she refused to pick up her holocommunicator. He was tempted to visit the cultists again, though he wasn't sure how he'd explain the trip to Ashara.

You'll lie to her, just like you've lied before..

Mel'ake froze. The thought passed so quickly he barely had time to acknowledge it, but it didn't seem like his own thought. It reminded him of the time he spent in the throes of Force Walking sickness, where the thoughts of the ghosts permeated his mind.

He tried to banish those memories from his immediate thoughts, and instead focused on Rylee again. She had sent him several calls back when he was sick, calls that he ignored. She seemed infatuated with him to the point of obsession. He wouldn't be surprised if she burst through the doors of the docked Fury uninvited, despite the fact that they were on Dromund Kaas. That would be an awkward situation to explain to both her and Ashara. He would have to explain his lapse into darkness.

Hardly your only one..

Mel'ake gasped as images of his misdeeds danced before his eyes. He killed Overseer Harkun, he turned his back on the Mother machine in Belsavvis, he took offerings from his cult when the members could have used the credits more. There was indeed darkness in his heart.

And you said your light would redeem us..

"NO!"

Mel'ake screamed either aloud or silently, he wasn't sure which. There was no mistaking that voice in his head, the voice that wasn't his own. It made sense now. Rylee, Harkun, every time he lapsed into darkness was a mark upon his soul. He tried to redeem the force ghosts with his light, but-

But you failed.

And we're back.

And we're going to have some fun...

Mel'ake sat bolt upright, fully awake and gasping for air. Ashara still slept soundly in the blankets besides him. As the madness that he thought he banished in Voss started to take hold on his identity, he found himself wondering if she would look so peaceful if she knew there were four uninvited guests on the Fury, all far more dangerous than any crazy past romance.

Oh, we'll make sure she never sleeps this well again.

Leave her alone!

He cried the phrase in his head with all his might. He felt the ghosts shudder and release their hold slightly, but the action had weakened him. As he helplessly fell back onto the bed and his mind drifted into the blackness of unconsciousness, he found himself begging, praying that Ashara would have more peaceful nights before he fell senseless.

Linden had expected the day to be a major turning point for her, but those expectations ended up being exceeded in ways she could have never imagined. Three months after her family joined the Taris restoration project, the 14-year-old Zabrak was discovered to be force sensitive. After two years of training with Jedi Master Fero Blynt, who was stationed near her home, the young padawan was headed to Tython.

The ship was small, but fast. Master Fero had chosen to accompany her along with two Republic troopers. Linden had done her best to ask them their names and make small talk, but they seemed a bit wary around her. Master Fero just shrugged it off and told her that those without power would always fear it.

They had only left Taris about five hours ago when the call came in to Master Fero's private holocommunicator. After he retreated to his quarters to take the call, he emerged looking troubled.

"We're changing course, Lin." It was addressed to her, but from his tone he also expected the troopers to listen. "Jedi Master Trey Dant has been kidnapped by the imps. They're holding him on a station nearby while they bring in interrogators. Our vessel is the only one that can get there anywhere close to being in time. The three of us will go in and extract Master Dant. You're staying on the ship."

Linden quickly quieted her internal protests that she should help with the fighting, until she realized her points had a legitimate concern.

"But Master, I cannot fly the ship. If something happens to you three then I'll be trapped, but I'm good with my training saber, good enough that I'm sure I could help."

Master Blynt walked over and ruffled her normally straight red hair, taking care not to hurt his hand on her horns.

"You make your point well, Linden. Come, but know I may not be able to protect you. Together we will strike a blow against the Empire."

The rest of the flight to the station was less than an hour. Linden eagerly peered out her cabin window as they approached. The station was small, with only two docking ports, one on either side. One of the ports was taken by the only other ship in the area, one bearing an imperial crest. As the small Jedi vessel pulled into the other port, Master Blynt tightened his lightsaber against his hip.

"May the force be with us, Lin." His voice was cold.

"There is no death, only the force." She replied, causing him to beam at her. There was no further time to prepare as the doors to the docking bay opened.

Nothing could have prepared Linden for what was inside. Evidently, Master Dant had broken free of his captors. Numerous bodies in imperial uniforms littered the floor, though several uniformed men were still standing and the massively built Jedi-robed man in the middle of the room looked hurt. Only four other figures stood. Linden gasped, failing in her task of making her face show no emotion.

Three of the figures carried training sabers, similar to hers. Of the three, one of them, a brown-haired human girl, looked to be of an age with Linden, though she was shorter and stockier than the tall Zabrak. The other human girl, a scrawny blonde, looked significantly younger. The other two, a robed saber-wielding male Twi'lek and a bald pale-skinned woman holding a blaster, couldn't be too much older than Linden. When she was hoping to fight, she was hoping for cold faceless adults in uniform. Not people her age, not people that looked like they could have been friends if things turned out differently. Linden felt Master Blynt's hand on her shoulder.

"They're imps, Lin. They need to be put down like the mad dogs they are. Master Dant!"

The Jedi turned to look at his rescuers. His face started to form a smile as a blaster bolt from the bald woman collided with it. His once-kind features melted as he collapsed to the ground.

"No!" Master Blynt cried as he drew his lightsaber and ran into the fray. Linden stood, frozen in place, paralyzed by the fear she promised herself not to feel. Everything turned into a blur as the troopers joined in the soon-to-be rain of blaster fire. She could see Master Blynt running ahead to the four younger Imperials. She felt the force surge as her master used it to knock them away. The brown-haired girl stood her ground and was able to rush forwards and deal him a blow with her training saber. She heard Master Blynt call out as he waved his hand towards the Twi'lek boy.

"You want to kill all the Imperials!" Linden felt her master call on the force again to muddle the boy's mind. However, she didn't have time to see the result. One of the troopers next to her fell with a vibroblade in his back as an Imperial operative deactivated his stealth generator. Filled with adrenaline, Linden brought her saber down on his head, hard. The man staggered and pulled out a blaster. Linden just kept striking, just kept ignoring the thoughts of terror and guilt that sprang to her mind. When the Imperial fell, she started to survey the scene around her, but was interrupted by a blood-curling scream.

"Aaaaie! I didn't want to kill him! I wanted to knock him out! Why! Why!" The brown-haired girl's cries became unintelligible as she knelt over the fallen body of the Twi'lek boy. The girl herself looked hurt beyond the point of plausible healing with burns and cuts gushing blood. Evidently, the force persuasion worked. The smaller girl threw herself at Master Blynt, but the Jedi called upon the force again to knock her away. The tiny blonde went flying towards Linden and crashed into the wall next to the Zabrak. The girl's small frame then crumpled to the ground, dead or unconscious. That was when Linden noticed the other trooper had also fallen, most likely from the returning blaster fire that the Imperial officers provided. The only two besides Linden still standing were Master Blynt and the bald woman who killed Master Dant.

Please.. She prayed silently, He can take her, he can kill her and we can go home, please.

Almost as if the bald woman heard her prayer and wanted to spite her, she grabbed the kneeling girl's arm, roughly shoved the screaming girl behind her, and fired at a fuel pipe above their heads. Master Blynt made one desperate charge towards the woman before the scene was engulfed in flame and Linden was thrown back against the wall.

She couldn't hear herself think over the throbbing in her head and the obnoxious cry of the station's emergency sirens. As Linden stood up, all she could think to do was run, run away back towards the ship, towards her salvation. Before she made it two steps, something grabbed her ankle and she fell. The Padawan managed to avoid falling flat on her face by throwing her hands up flat against the floor to break her fall, but it still wasn't very graceful.

"Your ship! Can you fly it alone!?"

Even though the speaker was yelling, Linden could barely hear him. It was the Twi'lek boy. He must have only lost consciousness against fighting his friend, and the explosion must have thrown him towards her. Once she realized his question, she shook her head, ashamed, as her face tinged red. If he hadn't stopped her, she would have probably been killed in the imminent station explosion still trying to start the ship. But was he offering to help?She didn't have time to asses the situation fully before his next question.

"I see Ash." He gestured to the tiny still girl. "Where's Lucy?"

Linden could only guess that he meant either the bald woman or the brown haired girl as she pointed to the other side of the station filled with charred bodies and rapidly catching flames. The Twi'lek's eyes were watery, though that could have easily been from the smoke.

"Okay, these three," he indicated the troopers and operative, "are goners. But I know a bit about ships. I can't fly one alone though." He slowly stood to his feet and Linden could see he had dramatic injuries under his singed robes, "And I can't carry Ash to your ship in this state. I need your help if I want to live. You look stronger than me even on my good days. If you carry Ash and take me back to your ship, I'll fly it back to the Republic."

Linden could feel doubt nagging at her heart. "Why should I trust you?" She yelled over the din of the alarms.

"Because the alternative is all three of us dying here." He winced in pain, and Linden could see that in his injured state, she could easily dispatch him if she needed to.

"Alright." She called and slung the small girl over her shoulder. She was very light, and Linden was still quicker than the Twi'lek boy back to the Republic ship. The Twi'lek was good on his word as he took the captain's chair upon boarding the ship and expertly flipped switches and pushed buttons. Before Linden could digest the fact that she was leaving Master Blynt behind while she escaped on their ship with two probable Sith, the Twi'lek had jumped to light speed.

She and Ashle, the young girl she rescued, arrived on Tython for their training just a few weeks later. The Twi'lek, whom Linden quickly found out was named Dm'eri, brought them to the closest Republic outpost Linden knew, which happened to be back to the planet Taris. Dm'eri was barely strong enough in the force to be detected and taken to the Academy on Korriban, and once he demonstrated that he had no desire to become Sith or Jedi, the Republic let him leave with Master Blynt's ship as a prize for rescuing two Padawans. Ashle was rough around the edges, but young enough to accept switching sides to the Republic. Like Dm'eri, she was never treated very well by most Imperials, having been born a slave. Dm'eri told Linden that the only reason they had survived so far was the Sith Acolyte they left behind on the station, the fierce brown-haired girl named Lucerna. She stood a decent chance of becoming Sith, being very talented in the force and the daughter of a powerful Darth. The bald woman was a mercenary only known as "Rage" that the Darth hired to protect their daughter as she and Ashle accompanied Dm'eri on one of his tests, interrogation. Linden reflected that it was a strange twist of fate how Rage had protected the other two Acolytes with her last shot by sending Dm'eri flying to Linden.

As the transport carrying the two Padawans landed on Tython, Linden could only think that it was a strange turning point indeed that brought her there without her master, but with the loyalty of two new friends.

Whenever he paused to think about it, neither of them should have beaten the odds to become Sith. Overseer Harkun had had it in for Mel'ake ever since the scrawny young Twi'lek arrived on Korriban. And then there was his adoptive older sister Lucerna who was permitted a leave of absence from her first bout at the Academy in order to receive the cybernetic implants that saved her life. But here they were, both of them beating the odds to become Sith lords.

Of course, he rarely had time to pause and think nowadays, what with ghosts of the force ravaging his mind and sanity. His companions and sister were his rocks keeping him from slipping off the deep end. Lucerna was the one he talked to the most. Ever since she unofficially adopted him as her little brother, he could feel himself trusting her more and telling her more of his secrets. The bond went both ways, and Mel'ake easily knew enough about his sister to ruin her status as Sith, but that was one of the last things he wanted.

Lucerna's husband, Malavai Quinn, had spent some time in Imperial Intelligence, so he was able to set up a secure comm channel between the two Fury class ships. The siblings always made sure to keep each other updated. Out of all his friends and companions, Lucerna was the only one who knew the true extent of Mel'ake's condition. He did his best to put on a brave face in front of his crew, but he was forthcoming with his sister. It helped to have one person he could trust in, one person who knew all his secrets.

He was trying to sleep when the mail came through on his holocommunicator. After breaking free from the blankets that always seemed to wrap themselves around him in the most inconvenient ways, he read the message.

---Mel'ake

Need to go to Corellia to meet some one to help me against Baras. Corellia has this new policy though. Due to a lockdown on Baras' orders, we need a transponder-type thing from another ship to get through planetary security. Thanaton might have done something similar, so I'll grab one for you too. Also, a Voss told me something yesterday when we left the planet. No time to talk about it now, but it was unsettling. I'd like to discuss it when I get the transponders we need. Should be an easy mission, no need to worry about me. No need to reply to this message either, I'll call you on the main terminal when I get back.

All the best

Lucerna----

After reading the message, Mel'ake rose and dressed himself in his inquisitor's robes before heading to the holoterminal. He waited patiently for over an hour for the call, but it never came. Instead, he received another mail on his personal holocommunicator.

---Mel

Disregard previous message. No transponder needed. No need to talk about Voss.

Lucerna---

He never did find out what happened on the transponder station. Lucerna was withdrawn for several weeks afterwards. The sting from her refusal to talk had weakened Mel'ake's resolve further than he would have anticipated. The ghosts seized the opportunity to echo around his consciousness, planting seeds of doubt. Was she going to betray him? If he couldn't trust his adoptive sister, could he trust anyone else? It was excruciating until he made his own trip to Voss for healing. When he finally had some quiet time in his own mind to reflect, he could only come upon the conclusion that it must have been the worst day ever for both of them.

The harsh sterile stench of the spaceport was a stark and unpleasant contrast to the earthy musk of the Tarisian cities, but Lieutenant Pierce was pleased to reach his destination so early. He wasn't expected back from his job of acquiring food supplies for another two or so standard hours, and he expected his new superior would be pleased. Lord Lucerna was unusual compared to the Sith he had met previously. She seemed to be doing her best to forward the goals of the Empire, but she appeared to hold no place in her heart for the political niceties and negotiations that drove so much of the era's intellectual commerce. She also had a distinct distaste for taking lives when she felt it wasn't necessary. Pierce wasn't sure that it was a trait becoming a Sith Lord, but he supposed that her mercy would have its uses in the future. When all was said and done, he easily saw himself enjoying his new post.

"My Lord?"

He called cautiously to the interior of the Fury before slapping himself mentally. Lucerna had already expressed her desire to be called by name, not title. Well, if she had such a pole up her rear that she couldn't handle one address-concerned mishap, it would be better for the Lieutenant if she dismissed him right then and there. As things would have it, there was no response. Pierce quietly made his way inside.

"Lucer-" he started to call, but stopped. There were definitely unfamiliar voices coming from the direction of his Lord's quarters. Some one else had to be aboard the ship, and it clearly wasn't one of Lord Lucerna's other three companions (well, four if you counted that useless and annoying droid.) Pierce readied his firearm and stalked towards the voices. The one speaking now sounded rather young and oddly familiar, though Pierce couldn't quite make out the words.

"Explain your presence here, now!" Pierce roared as he kicked open Lucerna's door. He quickly lowered his rifle when he saw the Sith was the only other one present. Over the next few seconds, his mind adroitly pieced together the scene.

Lord Lucerna was wearing comfortable clothing that was thankfully decent. She sat at the edge of her bed, transfixed by the holoscreen across the room. Her arms tightly clutched a large stuffed vorn tiger toy as she jumped in shock and turned to look at the intruder. Pierce almost had to laugh at the images on the screen, but he managed to hold back his chuckles for the sake of his safety.

"My Lord.." He started, "I think my twelve year old niece watches that cartoon.."

Harsh hazel eyes fixed the Lieutenant in their owner's gaze.

"Your point?"

Pierce struggled to find one. "Er, no offense meant, but you are clearly not twelve years old." He began to realize that she might have had a specific reason for sending them all on task which were designed to take a good deal of time.

"I am not twelve years old." She said calmly. "However, while I was twelve years old, I was training at a deadly academy far away from the witch of a woman I knew as my only family. After experiencing devastating injuries that would have killed most men twice my size three times over, and the deaths of my only two friends, I spent two years in intense physical and psychological recovery in order for my mother to send me back to the aforementioned deathtrap posing as an Academy. After I finally won my right to be free of that place by fighting for my life against other hopeful Sith and beings of darkness that I can only begin to describe with my words, I was placed into the loving care of a Darth who would likely not take kindly to the emergence of my second childhood. And testing that theory could prove deadly. However, I am allowed some degree of freedom under his tyranny, and I believe I have earned the right to spend my free hours however I wish. Any questions?"

Pierce went with his first hunch. He saw the way the Sith Lord's gaze often lingered on the ship's uptight Captain.

"Does Quinn know?"

Lucerna's gaze darkened.

"You told me you won this position through blackmailing your superior officer. I can be merciful to a point, but try anything similar with me and your wish to see a Sith in combat will come true, but not in the way you imagined."

Pierce nodded, understanding his position. Lucerna's mercy was already proving useful to his overall well-being in that parts of him were not currently covering her lightsabers.

"Now," her expression softened. "I believe Darin is about to confess his crush on Beka after these advertisements. I also believe you have earned a reward for completing our replenishment of rations so quickly. If you use this break to make some popcorn for the both of us, you may join me." She patted the spot on the bed next to her in what her tone told Pierce was a purely platonic invitation.

"Darin and Beka?" Pierce frowned. "When I watched with my niece I thought Darin was far more suited for Ellei."

His only wish at that moment was a holocamera to take a picture of his new superior's expression.

It had been the most excruciating week of his life. Ever since the force ghosts made themselves known after his attempt at their redemption that he now knew had failed, the four entities were hardly letting the Twi'lek have any time to himself. He banished Ashara from his bed with the lie that he was researching a highly sensitive new force ritual to help heal Sith whose psyches had been damaged from the dark side of the force. She was upset, but took his explanation in stride.

He was terrified of letting any of his crew learn of his affliction. They looked to him as their leader, he couldn't show any weakness. Fortunately, with his new appointment to the Dark Council, there was no shortage of menial diplomatic tasks to send his companions on. He used the time in his empty offices to close the reinforced door and meditate, nap, give in to the urges to yell at his mind's four uninvited residents, anything to bring him some peace and quiet. Fortunately, either the administrative staff outside his door were used to a Darth screaming at invisible entities in his chambers, or they were masking their surprise extremely well.

Today was one such day where Mel'ake knelt on the floor of his chambers in the pretense of meditation. He let the light of his past deeds wash over him, hoping against hope it would cure him. He tried not to think of Harkun, tried not to think of Rylee, tried not to think...

Try all you want, your deeds determine who you are. You've given into the dark one side too many..

Shut up.

You released the Gormak to the stars, the Voss will never welcome you back. You can't get rid of us so easily this time..

Shut up.

They're going to find out sooner or later. Then they will leave you. Your friends, your sister, your wife-to-be. You'll be alone.

SHUT UP!

"My Lord?"

Mel'ake's eyes snapped open. He fought the mental fog to realize he was staring at the ceiling. Apparently he dozed off and fell over while attempting to meditate. It wouldn't be the first time. As he gathered himself and tried to sit up, his eyes focused and he saw there was some one standing in the doorway.

"Talos?" Mel'ake asked, still slightly stupid with sleep. The archaeologist crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the Sith sprawled on the floor.

"The door was unlocked. I heard screaming." He offered simply in way of explanation. "I don't think this was one of your ice cream relic dreams."

Mel'ake stared confused for a moment, before remembering the joke he told so long ago to explain his problems with the ghosts intruding his sleep. He smiled as he remembered Talos' reply back then.

"No, this was a flesh-eating-Jawa dream. They were going after Hutts in bikinis, I think that was the scariest part."

Talos chuckled despite the situation and offered a helping hand up to the Darth still on the floor. Mel'ake took the offered hand, and was slightly embarrassed by how much help he needed to stand. It wasn't easy; although Mel'ake was painfully scrawny, he was still over a head taller than Talos. Still, Mel'ake felt himself go pale as he realized the ghosts' return was affecting his physical state as well.

"They're back?" Talos didn't need to specify in his question. Mel'ake didn't want to answer. He didn't want to admit the problem was there, staring him in the face. Instead of speaking up, he merely nodded. Talos made a tsk'ing noise.

"You shouldn't feel you need to hide it, my lord. Would you like me to inform the rest of the crew?"

"No!" Mel'ake almost shouted, and felt guilty when he saw Talos wince. "I'm sorry, but I'd rather handle this myself."

Talos sighed, looking exasperated. "As you decree, but I don't believe any of them will abandon you if they find out. You tried to hide it last time, and look how far you fell."

"Then what do you suggest?" Mel'ake was starting to feel too tired to fight.

"Trust your crew." Talos allowed a small smile to visit his features as his voice took a theatric tone . "Think of it as a great change in your life, a new path. 'Mel'ake, the big scary Sith lord who actually trusts the people who try to help him.'"

Mel'ake pouted. "I didn't think I was so big and scary."

Talos shrugged. "You aren't, but like I said, changes."

"I'd rather not." Mel'ake sighed and shook his head. "I'd rather not anyone find out. Just, just give me one chance to set things right with the ghosts. If I fail, you can tell the others, but please don't tell them until then."

Talos nodded, apparently agreeing with the compromise. "I can call in favors from the reclamation service to see if anyone there has any leads regarding ghosts, and I can give you a sedative for the nights. It should stop the crying and screaming."

Mel'ake winced. "I don't cry in my sleep, do I?"

"Well, the Hutts in bikinis give you a valid excuse." Talos offered, "But I'm sure the new, changed Lord Mel'ake won't cry in his sleep at all."

"They're about to board." Ashara barely heard Andronikos' warning. She simply nodded in understanding as she cradled her husband-to-be's head in her lap. She was sitting cross-legged on the head of his bed with Mel'ake's tall form resting on the ergonomic pillows. As she heard the airlock open, she used the back of her glove to wipe away a spot of drool from the edge of Mel'ake's breathing mask.

"Your sister is coming to visit." She whispered, albeit fairly sure he couldn't hear her with his blood and nervous system pumped full of sedatives. "She says she's bringing help." And from the amount of footsteps in the hallway, the Emperor's Wrath delivered on her promise.

"Ashey." The Wrath spoke from the doorway. The endearing nickname was spoken without its usual cheer. Instead, Lucerna's voice was strained with sadness. Ashara realized it was her first time seeing her brother in such a state. Strange as it was for the cyborg daughter of a powerful human Darth to consider a Twi'lek former slave her little brother, Ashara couldn't debate the strength of their bond.

"He looks bad." Lucerna continued as she surveyed the frail form on the bed. Mel'ake's breathing was shallow and helped by a small breathing mask placed over his nose and mouth. Every few minutes, he would wince or shudder, or even cry out. Every time he did so Ashara held him tighter. "Is there any way to numb the pain?" Lucerna asked.

"I'm sorry," Ashara said as she shook her head. "Talos said he was already pushing the doses of sedatives. He said the amount he's using is almost the maximum for Mel's most recent weight." She didn't need to say that Mel'ake was now lighter. The sweat-drenched robes he wore couldn't hide the fact that he lost significant amounts of weight since Lucerna's last visit.

"Has it been hard to get him to eat?" Lucerna asked, her voice laced with concern.

"It's been hard to get him to be conscious." Ashara admitted. "Ever since we ran into the artifact on Quesh, he hasn't been himself. They're taking over." Lucerna nodded sadly and moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed, taking one of her brother's hands in both of hers. Ashara saw the people who were standing behind the Wrath for the first time, and she greeted them with a small smile. She recognized Lucerna's husband, Malavai Quinn, her apprentice, Jaesa Wilsaam, and an imperial officer in the Wrath's service, a man known only by his rank of Lieutenant and last name of Pierce. Also in the doorway stood a well-dressed Zabrak man and an elderly human man who wore a doctor's coat.

"Pierce." Lucerna commanded, "take Talos and Lokin to a separate room for their specific instructions." The large Lieutenant nodded and left, beckoning for the elderly man to follow.

"You have a plan?" Ashara asked, feeling hope start to bubble up in her. Lucerna nodded.

"Ashara, meet Capsin, formerly of Imperial Intelligence." She gestured to the Zabrak. He walked over to Ashara and bowed courteously.

"The pleasure is mine, my dear. I would kiss your hand, but both seem otherwise occupied." Ashara involuntarily tightened her grip on Mel'ake. The agent spoke in a voice that sounded drenched in honey. "I am an old associate of our dear Wrath's husband, Captain Quinn. Sweet little Lucerna enlisted my help in gathering information concerning the well-being of our friend Mel'ake. More specifically, she wanted me to use my particular brand of gathering information to find anyone specialized in this type of force sickness."

"Any luck?" Ashara found herself asking.

"Yes and no." Capsin said, fidgeting slightly. "The Sith are not known for their skills in healing. The single living Sith who has the most knowledge on mending bodies and minds is probably the dear Dark Council member snoring on your lap." Ashara started to open her mouth to berate him, berate Lucerna for bringing her useless information on Mel'ake's ship, but Capsin held up a finger and continued.

"The Sith are not the only ones strong with the force in the galaxy, as you know very well, Padawan. The Jedi have quite an extensive network of healers. The trick is to find one skilled in the mystic arts who has recently fallen. My people are scouting out several leads as we speak. In the meantime, my good friend Doctor Lokin will assist your ship's medic. I personally assure you, he is highly experienced in dealing with fragile mental and emotional states."

"My emotional state is not fragile!" Ashara roared. Capsin held up his hands apologetically and pointed to Mel'ake.

"You misunderstand, my dear. I was referring to the one possessed by four Sith ghosts."

"Ah." Ashara blushed and looked down, ashamed. "So, what's the plan?"

"We stop looking to the Sith for answers." Lucerna was the one who spoke up. "We are going to try a new path, we are going to seek help from a Jedi."

"Our master is getting worse."

Ashara jumped as she heard Xalek from the door. Even though he gave her shivers down her spine, she couldn't debate his words. Ever since the failed expedition to Quesh, Mel'ake was unusually withdrawn. After Talos told her a few hours ago that the ghosts were back, Ashara spent the time holed up in her chambers, trying to maintain her composure.

"The artifact we found did something to his mind." She replied automatically. "We'll be back on Dromund Kaas soon, where we can go over our findings."

"I don't think our master will let us wait that long." Xalek said simply. Suddenly, Andronikos' voice bellowed through the halls.

"Get him out of the cockpit!" Ashara sat up abruptly. Andronikos sounded frantic, his voice shaking.

"What's Mel doing?" She demanded of her fellow apprentice. Her command was followed by the unmistakable crackle of force lightning.

"I should probably show you rather than tell you." Xalek responded before disappearing down the hallway. Ashara stood up and ran after him, though she didn't draw her lightsabers. She wasn't about to strike the man she loved.

"I thought you said the needle would knock him out." Khem Val cried in his strange tongue. As Ashara arrived on the scene, she saw the Dashade standing between Mel'ake and Andronikos. The former pirate had his hands full keeping the Fury on course with arcs of lightning singeing his captain's chair. Talos was huddled in the corner, capping the needle of an empty syringe.

"I said that after a few minutes, the tranquilizer would cause him to slow down to the point where I could inject him in a vein with a sedative and knock him out." The archaeologist raised his arms protectively over his face as some lightning shot a bit too close for comfort. "You can't expect me to direct the drug into a vein while he's thrashing around. We're lucky I could grab his arm to give him the tranquilizer in his muscle."

"That is not what you said!" Khem Val protested as he made a grab for Mel'ake, who was, in fact, thrashing wildly.

"I didn't have time for the full explanation, can you blame me?" Talos said as he filled a new syringe with a clear fluid from a small bottle. "Ashara, Xalek, if you could help Khem Val hold off our Darth until I can get a clear shot to sedate him, I would be in your debt."

Ashara nodded and leaped to Mel'ake's side. The possessed Twi'lek had his attention on Khem Val for the moment. She made a wild grab for his arm and secured it in a hold. Mel'ake turned his head and affixed her with his stare. No, that wasn't Mel'ake. The gaze and facial mannerisms were similar, but they didn't belong to her lover.

"My child." Ashara shuddered at the voice that came from Mel'ake's mouth. It was the voice, the gaze, the mannerisms of her ancestor buried in the tombs of Taris. She froze at the memory of her ancestor's paranormal grasp at her sanity when she tried to subdue him. Mel'ake had come to her rescue then. It was her turn to help him now. With gritted teeth, she tightened her hold on his arm.

"I'm sorry Master." Xalek said before swinging his un-ignited lightsaber like a baton at Mel'ake's head. The blow sent the Darth reeling back, stunned. Mel'ake blinked, and in a moment his mannerisms were his own.

"Talos, the sedative, now.." Mel'ake said weakly as he held out his free arm. Talos didn't waste time to respond as he rushed to Mel'ake's side and pulled the sleeve of his robe back. In a few swift movements, he slipped the needle under Mel'ake's skin and injected the solution. Ashara tried to hold Mel'ake steady as his weight shifted.

"Start thinking of the dream you want now, my Lord." Talos recommended. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for Quesh, and I'm sorry I didn't tell the others."

"Don't be sorry. Any of you. You're all the best crew. You did nothing wrong, Talos." Mel'ake struggled through his words.

"Mel.." Ashara managed. He turned and faced her, looking at her with his big blue eyes that were his and his alone for now.

"I love you Ashara." That sweet smile was still on his face as his eyes lost their focused and closed. Ashara barely had time to adjust the way she held Mel'ake before he was no longer supporting his own weight. As she frantically tried to keep him from falling to the floor, Khem Val stepped in and scooped up the unconscious scrawny Twi'lek.

"Master.." Khem Val said with a twinge of what Ashara thought was sadness. Xalek lowered his head.

"Um," Andronikos interrupted. "I hate to butt in on everyone's mushy feelings, but are we still going to Dromund Kaas?"

The five members of the crew looked at each other awkwardly for a moment. The chain of command had changed, and no one knew quite how.

"Well, some one needs to speak up, and it better not be that annoying droid." Andronikos said from his seat in the captain's chair. Unsurprisingly, some one did speak up. Somewhat surprisingly, it was Talos.

"If no one else is going to. I mean, we should continue our course. We should also consider the allies we have. Some one should contact Lucerna. As for myself, as the only one who has admitted to any sort of medical training, I suggest I check on Mel'ake's vital signs and determine what continued care he will need until we find a cure for his situation."

Ashara gave Talos a reassuring smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you've dealt with friends driven insane by ancient ghosts and artifacts before."

Talos fixed her with a similar smile. "Dear lady, you've forgotten I used to explore Sith tombs for a living. I've seen how the relics can change people, and with Mel'ake incapacitated there will definitely be some changes around here."

She was being followed.

Vette slipped through the crowd on the Nar Shaddaa promenade as she made her way towards the taxi. The hooded figure following her was no expert in urban tracking. Their efforts were painfully obvious. Still, Vette was no fool. She knew that they might be just one of many. They could be giving her hints on purpose so she wouldn't catch glimpses of the true threats.

After Mel'ake fell ill with his possession, Lucerna had devoted herself and her resources to finding a way to reverse the damage done to her little brother. Vette heard from her old friend Taunt that a Jedi started a gang among some of the districts, most prominently the Nikto. The group in question had been engaged in some morally questionable activities that were very un-Jedi-like. Although Taunt hadn't heard about the group in a few years, Vette reasoned and Lucerna agreed that a Jedi willing to run with gangsters might be less morally opposed to using his powers to heal a Sith.

"Nikto sector please." Vette purposely spoke loud enough to the taxi droid that the figure following her could hear. She had never been followed by such an amateur before, this could be fun. As the automated taxi that carried her drove away, Vette risked turning back and saw the figure get into a taxi of her own (it was a woman, from the glimpse she stole, Vette could see the figure's short height and pronounced curves well enough to be 95% sure.)

After getting out of the taxi and paying the droid with fresh credits directly from Lucerna's account, Vette strode purposefully forwards. She didn't look back to see if her pursuer followed her in the taxi. She figured she would find out soon enough.

Sure enough, Vette had hardly turned the corner into a deserted alley when a girl's voice called out quietly but firmly.

"Stop right there. If you run or reach for a weapon, I'll shoot. Turn around and face me."

The girl sounded younger than Vette expected from some one willing to follow her into the Nar Shaddaa ganglands. As the Twi'lek held her hands in the air and turned around, her theory was confirmed. The Mirialan girl standing before her looked at least a year younger than Vette. The fact that under her lowered hood she wore her dark brown hair in girlish pigtails at the base of her neck and completed the look with a carbonized flower pinned above her ear didn't help her appear any older. Her yellow-green skinned face wore a furious expression as she held a blaster aimed at Vette's throat. Vette saw that the blaster was well made, and she also had a vibrosword and shield generator at her hip. Although the Mirialan's clothes were casual and allowed for freedom of movement, Vette could see that the craftsmanship was top notch. This girl was either rolling in credits, or spent the vast majority of her money gearing up for her foolish venture. Vette studied the girl carefully.

"I don't think we've met, Miss...?"

"Lizzie." The girl spoke with conviction. Vette laughed.

"And I suppose that's your real name?"

"And I suppose the name your Sith called you is your real name, Vette?"

That sent Vette's mind racing. She didn't recall seeing this girl, and she knew about Lucerna. Lizzie had recent information, and Vette needed to figure out how.

"We haven't met, have we Lizzie?"

The girl shook her head. "You haven't seen me, but I've seen you on the security cameras. I'd never forget your face, or the face of that Sith you were with."

Vette tried to make a mental list of the places she went with Lucerna, but couldn't narrow it down quite enough.

"Look," Vette offered. "I'm sorry if your dad or uncle or big brother or cousin or some one was a soldier at a place we raided and they got killed. But the truth is that Lucy, that's my Sith buddy, doesn't like killing when she can help it. I'm sure she took no joy out of ending the lives of any of your loved ones."

As Vette spoke, she saw a sliced security droid stalk towards Lizzie. Lizzie apparently saw Vette's gaze shift, since she made a rookie mistake that saved her life. She took her eyes off her hostage to look behind her and managed to dodge the droid's first strike. Lizzie fired several rounds at the droid, injuring it somewhat before it hit her right arm with a swipe and knocked the blaster out of her hand. Not wasting any time, Lizzie drew her vibroblade and started swinging. Although the droid landed a few powerful shots, Lizzie didn't cry out or beg for help or mercy. She kept on swinging away at the droid, though most of her blows missed. Evidently her dominant arm was injured.

Vette drew her blasters and pointed at the droid in spite of herself. True, Lizzie tried to take her hostage, but the girl had pluck, and Vette had been a party to a lot of lives destroyed. Vette tried to get a clear shot. Lizzie was still flailing against the droid, her injured arm causing more and more misses. It was rotten luck that caught the girl with a bolt to the nerves in the arm, she seemed rather capable of defending herself before the hit. Despite that nagging little voice in the back of Vette's mind labeled "Common Sense," the Twi'lek ran towards the battle. She adroitly put a blaster to the droid's head and fired, causing a small explosion of wires and bolts. Wasting no time, Vette turned on Lizzie and relieved the girl of her vibrosword. She grabbed hold of her injured arm and held it tight, keeping Lizzie trapped in a hold that must have been painful.

Lizzie screamed, but not out of pain. It was more of a feral cry of despair. Due to a bizarre twist of fate, Vette held the power now.

"Go ahead." Lizzie ordered before spitting on the ground. "Take me to the Sith, have her torture my sanity away. Don't even think of being merciful and killing me."

"Torture?" Vette was puzzled. "Lucy would never. Sure, she had to watch her old master torture a guy once, that was nasty, but I don't think she's ever used it herself."

"Then have her undo whatever Sith trick she did." Lizzie said, struggling against the hold. "If she's so nice, have her fix my best friend, and tell him what happened to make him lose his memories."

"Ah." Vette said in understanding. "Your friend is the kid from Balmorra, right? The Rylon boy?" She remembered now. The poor boy was being interrogated about his father, the Imperial spy, Commander Rylon. Lucerna had been ordered by Baras to eliminate both son and father. Neither were a threat any longer.

"Former Ensign Durmat Rylon is my best friend." Lizzie said defiantly. "I will never forgive you or the Sith for what you did."

"I don't think Lucy will ever forgive herself." Vette replied. It was true. Lucerna's first instinct was to disobey Darth Baras' orders and attempt a jailbreak instead of an assassination. However, the interrogation cage and its lock provided to be a match for the young Sith. After several minutes of Lucy being completely stupid and attempting to hack away at the boy's cage with her lightsabers, Durmat came up with the idea of using a memory-wiping serum that was slated for disposal. As it was destined for the garbage, no one would notice it missing, and Lucerna and Vette had smashed the droids in the interrogation room proper. The only witnesses to their methods were Vette and Lucerna themselves, since the Ensign was relieved of the entirety of his memories. Although Vette regretted the boy's fate, the experience struck a strong chord with Lucerna. She was forlorn for several weeks afterwards. The only thing that finally pulled the Sith out of her depression was meeting Mel'ake and adopting him as her little brother.

"I know this'll be hard to believe." Vette began, "But that big mean Sith shed tears because she couldn't improve your boyfriend's fate."

"He was never my boyfriend! I never said he was my boyfriend!" Lizzie roared. Vette tried not to laugh. Here was a probably sheltered rich kid in the Nar Shaddaa ganglands with no weapons in easy reach, an injured arm, and being held in a tight grab by a street-savvy ex-slave, but she wanted to make herself heard. This girl had interesting priorities.

"How is Ensign Durmat doing now?" Vette asked out of curiosity and concern.

"Not good," Lizzie admitted. "I help him out best I can, but it was hard with him not remembering me at all at the beginning." Vette nodded in sympathy. She heard enough.

"Come on, I'll take you to your spaceport." When she saw the puzzled look on Lizzie's face she continued. "The kid obviously depends on you, especially with his dad gone. Lucy cared about his well being, and I'm sure she'd never forgive me if I let his girl- uh, I mean, best friend die or get seriously injured out here. Plus.." Vette tapped Lizzie's arm, causing the girl to wince in pain, "It's not like you have much of a choice. I'm sorry we can't undo the changes to your friend, but if I help you get back safe and sound it'll stop his current situation from changing for the worse." She smiled sadly. "Sometimes that's all we can do."

Lizzie relented with a growl and Vette let go of her hold. "Fine, just let me get my weapons. I'm not going to attack you, but my uncle would be furious if I lost them."

Vette picked up the vibrosword and blaster and handed them to Lizzie. "Here, by the way, I like the flower in your hair."

Lizzie set her jaw and smiled grimly.

"It's called a forget-me-not."

"It's me, Keera Undine, let me through!"

The young Mirialan glared stubbornly up at the guards barring her way. The taller guard narrowed his eyes at her.

"I don't care if you're the head of the Jedi council, we're not letting you through."

"But.." Keera protested, "if I were the head of the Jedi council, I could just use the Force to convince you to let me through."

The other guard, a red-skinned Twi'lek, chuckled.

"She's got you there Benny. Do you know how to use the Force, Missy?"

Keera felt the redness creep to her tattooed cheeks in shame.

"Not yet."

"Then no." The taller guard, a gruff human named Benkin, replied. "We know very well who you are. Keera Undine, daughter to two murdered Balmorran government officials and niece to a living Coruscanti senator. Impressive relations for your age, but even if your uncle was hear to speak on your behalf we still couldn't let you in."

Keera pouted. "Fine, just tell Ensign Durmat Rylon that his fellow ambassador from Sanju's Snuzzlegruff Salvation Society has urgent news. Bantha Milk passed away last night."

The guards exchanged curious looks.

"Er," the Twi'lek started, "You do know that sounds suspiciously like code, and the Rylon boy was being investigated for treason."

Keera took a deep breath, trying to not let her sense of urgency overwhelm her. It was bad enough having her best friend interrogated, but when one of their precious Society Snuzzlegruffs died, it only made her mental state worse. To top it all off, that morning Durmat's holding cell was attacked and few survivors were left. The reports that made their way to Keera hinted that the attacker had been Sith. When she didn't see Durmat's name on the list of the deceased, she tracked his location to a nearby medcenter and bought the fastest speeder cab to take her there.

"Sanju's Snuzzlegruff Salvation Society. It's a real organization, you can look it up on the holonet." Though Sanju Pyne was apparently too busy doing important rebellion things to help with the organization he founded. Jerk. The worst part of it was that he wouldn't let Keera help. "I updated the page this morning with the information that Bantha Milk, one of our founding Snuzzlegruffs, died last night. Just give Durmat, my message, he'll know what it means."

Benkin burst into laughter, causing the Twi'lek to glare at him.

"Girly," Benkin started as he leaned too close for Keera's comfort. "I can personally assure you that Ensign Rylon will have no idea what your message means. Now run along and go shop for Alderaanian silk dresses or whatever little rich girls do on Balmorra these days."

That struck a nerve. Keera's subconscious must have realized that Benkin was in perfect position to allow a groin kick, because before she could process it she kicked Benkin hard enough to bypass his armor and cause him to writhe in pain. Her foot hurt, but she barely noticed over the adrenaline. The Twi'lek reached for the stun baton on his hip.

"Sorry!" Keera called before sprinting past the Twi'lek and down the hallway. She knew she was almost uncatchable for short distances, but she was no endurance runner. She would have to find Durmat's room quickly. He'd make sure she wasn't punished too severely for kicking the guard. He'd understand why she was here. Only one of the doors was closed. If they were still interrogating him, that had to be the room.

"Durmat!" She cried as she bust through the doors. Sure enough, he was there, seated upright on the cot in the room. Two official-looking men were standing around him, one of them holding a clipboard. "Bantha Milk died last night, I thought you should know!"

Those brown eyes of his held no sign of recognizing her or comprehending her message.

"I'm sorry.." He stuttered, "What are you talking about?"

"C'mon, who am I?" She asked jokingly, praying he would answer in kind.

"Er.. you look like a Lizzie?" He offered, obviously grasping for answers. That was when it hit her.

They said the attacker at the military compound was a Sith.

The Jedi weren't the only ones who could manipulate minds.

She was spared the embarrassment of screaming in despair as the guard's stun baton crashed down on the base of her skull and her world turned black.

At the Dark Temple, it was Mel'ake's first betrayal by some one he considered a family member. His older brother fulfilled his oath to take care of him after their parents died until the always-loyal Dm'eri was discovered to be force sensitive and hauled away to the academy on Korriban. Mel'ake was alone without family until he too was sensed to be strong in the force and taken to Korriban. He was alone in his struggles there until his future master, Lord Zash, showed him the first kindness he felt in years. It was while he kept his head held high with newly found confidence as Zash's apprentice that he accumulated a small following of individuals he could trust. There was Dm'eri's old friend Lucerna, the strange cyborg who adopted Mel'ake as her little brother. There was Andronikos, the skilled pilot with the devilish smile. There was that weird ghost-man named Kallig that Mel'ake wasn't completely convinced wasn't a series of dreams. There were others, military men on Balmorra, a cult on Nar Shaddaa, but Lord Zash was the first who reached out to him.

And now she was going to kill him.

The betrayal hurt, but above all he felt a wave of gratitude. Harkun was right after all. He was worthless trash, undeserving of the extra year of life Zash granted him as her apprentice. She was the closest he had come to having a mother, and if she wanted to kill him so she could have his body, he wasn't going to stop her. Mel'ake stopped resisting as he felt his vitality drain away.

"Master!" Khem Val cried and barreled into Zash, interrupting her concentration. Mel'ake felt his strength return, but he couldn't make himself move. He stood there, stupefied as the Dashade pummeled his master. He heard her scream in fright and despair as she reached towards him.

"Apprentice! Help me!" Mel'ake could feel the force pull away from him again. He couldn't force himself to move, to take any actions. That was when Khem Val leaped between the master and apprentice. There was a flash of white and purple light pushing him to the ground-

"Apprentice!" Mel'ake heard Zash's voice call out to him. The stunned Twi'lek picked himself off the temple floor. He saw Khem Val, but no sign of his master.

"My Lord?" Mel'ake called out cautiously.

"Apprentice, what have you done to me!?" It was Zash's voice, but Khem Val's mouth was moving. Mel'ake held a hand to his forehead. He was expecting this trip to bring changes, but not like this..

He was free.

The thought kept racing through Mel'ake's mind as he chatted with a cute little red-haired soldier at the cantina in the Imperial Fleet. He was now Mel'ake Nocturne, former slave and current apprentice to Lord Zash. Of course, he couldn't run around the fleet naked shooting force lighting at anyone who stared, but that was considerably lower on his to-do list than most probably assumed. A natural awkwardness mixed with a long-expanded conscious effort to seem too odd to be worth an enemy's time meant that very few people took Mel'ake seriously. When Lord Zash validated his efforts at becoming Sith, Mel'ake gained a boost of confidence that loaned him the gusto to risk indulging in one of his few (who was he kidding, one of his many,) non-Sithy-Forcey pastimes, chatting to gorgeous ladies.

"Show me again!" The Imperial Trooper woman gushed. Mel'ake grinned and sent the arc of lightning dancing across his fingertips. The girl watched, mesmerized. "So you're really a Sith. The only ones I've met weren't nearly as friendly."

"Let's hope it doesn't come with experience." Mel'ake chuckled before noticing both their glasses were empty. In one of her displays of generosity, Lord Zash gave Mel'ake a good amount of credits for him to enjoy himself while he waited for the next Dromund Kaas shuttle to arrive at the space dock. Granted, his first idea was to buy a slave their freedom, but he had no idea how he would go about doing that. So he went for the next best thing, chatting over drinks with lonely Imperial women who would have only looked at him twice to spit on him back when he was a slave. At least his intentions started altruistic.

"Let me get that for you." Mel'ake offered as he grabbed their glasses and walked towards the droid tending the bar. He was almost there before something- rather some one, caught his eye. There was a curvy human cyborg woman at the top of the stairs leading down to the cantina. She was accompanied by a stiff looking man in Imperial officer's uniform. The thing that caught his eye, rather than the duo themselves, was the fact that the woman was staring right at him. Mel'ake felt a shiver creep down his spine as the woman spoke excitedly to the man, tugging on his starched and pressed sleeve. He found himself wishing he hadn't sent Khem Val to train on the fleet's target dummies until their shuttle was about to board. The Dashade gave him the creeps big time, but he did say he was bound to Mel'ake's command. As Mel'ake walked to the bar, the woman suddenly strode right towards him in a few swift steps.

"Mel'ake Nocturne?" She asked. She was pretty cute herself, with neat brown hair falling just bellow her ears, an amazing set of curves, and piercing hazel eyes that were beautiful, but somewhat unsettling. The only visible implants showed just bellow her eyes. Her face was marred by three scars over her left eye, but it only seemed to add to her countenance as a warrior. She was Sith, if the lightsabers on her belt were any indication, which meant there was approximately a 100:1 chance that she was insane and/or hated slaves. Being a Twi'lek living in the empire, Mel'ake wasn't expecting to stop getting slave comments any time soon. At least he knew now they were incorrect. One thing was certain about this woman though; Mel'ake had no recollection of her. Out of the corner of his eye, Mel'ake saw the cute red-haired soldier survey the situation with a cold expression.

"Er, I'm sorry, do I know you?" Mel'ake asked the Sith. "I mean, that is my name.." he managed before realizing how the situation looked to the soldier girl. Well, smart money said she was leaving the table now, her interest in Mel'ake evaporated.

"Your older brother, Dm'eri Nocturne, saved my life countless times at the Korriban Academy." She spoke matter-of-factly. "He adopted me as his younger sister and told me all about you, Mel'ake. That makes you my little brother, and me your big sister."

Mel'ake felt a lump rise in his throat. This woman had to be telling the truth about his brother Dm'eri. He was discovered to be force sensitive and taken away when Mel'ake was nine years old, leaving the child to fend for himself. He never heard from or about his brother again, but had assumed the worst, which made it all the more frightening when his own force sensitivity was discovered.

"Dm'eri..." Mel'ake was able to choke out, "Did he..? I mean, is he..?"

The woman's somber expression gave Mel'ake the answer, but she still spoke.

"He's dead Mel'ake, I'm sorry."

Mel'ake was able to grab a nearby chair as his legs lost some of their strength and the tears started flowing. Even though he knew it was unlikely, he kept on hoping, never stopped wishing for his big brother's safety. He never expected to be this emotional when he found out the truth, though he suspected that the four glasses of Corellian brandy didn't help. Before he could react, the strange woman was embracing him, allowing him to cry on her shoulder.

"It's alright, Mel'ake. I made a promise. I promised Dm'eri that when I became Sith, I would find you and protect you, and here you are."

"Who.. who are you?" He asked. It was all he could manage.

"Lucerna Nocturne, apprentice to Darth Baras." She broke the embrace and pulled away once Mel'ake was stable on the chair. "Anything you need: weapons, credits, some one to talk to, introductions to cute little red heads, just let me know. Dm'eri was my brother too, after all."

Several months later, Mel'ake had taken Lucerna up on each of her offers, except for the introductions to members of the fairer gender. You never knew when a cute girl you met in a cantina was your long-lost big sister.

Lucerna Nocturne was unlike any Sith Vette had ever met, though the list of Sith she HAD met was mercifully short. For one, she seemed genuinely upset when she had to kill her opponents, even if her victim was attacking her first. Second, and most importantly, she showed compassion and empathy. She never shocked Vette, and she took the slave collar off the first time Vette asked. She even showed honest interest in the Twi'lek's well being. That was why, on the long journey to Balmorra, Vette decided to take a chance and ask the Sith to play a simple game of "Two Truths and a Lie." If Lucerna accepted, it would help pass the time, and if she refused, well, Lucy didn't seem like the type to cause Vette physical harm for such a minor slight.

"So, I've been in jail sixteen times, I have three sisters, and I've worked as a hired assassin." Vette offered. Lucerna needed no time to deliberate.

"The statement about sisters is a lie." Lucerna stated. Vette grinned. So Lucy had been listening to their little conversations after all. Vette was about to congratulate her when the Sith continued. "You have four."

"Four?" Vette asked, bewildered. She guessed the Sith didn't care about their conversations as much as Vette hoped. "How do you figure that?"

Lucerna looked both hurt and confused as she held out a gloved hand with all four fingers extended.

"Tivva." She said, touching one finger. "Risha," she touched another, "Taunt," one more, "and me." She finished, touching the last finger. Vette beamed.

"Wow, I guess when you think of it that way. Either way, three was the lie, but I should say I have four. Non-blood family can be just as special, right?"

"Of course." Lucerna smiled, her expression warming. "Now do I get a turn?"

"Sure!" Vette exclaimed. That was unexpected. Lucerna rarely talked about herself or her past, and Vette was eager to learn more about the Sith she followed.

"All right.." Lucerna started, "I was married for six months, so far I have three brothers and two sisters, and I keep a secret stash of candies on the ship that you haven't found yet."

Vette did some quick mental fact checking. "Lucy.. it's two truths, not two lies. The candy and the siblings are lies. You told me about the slave boy and slave girl who became your brother and sister on Korriban. You have me, and you said the slave boy had a little brother you've never met who became your brother by proxy. That means you're down a brother. And I KNOW the candy is a lie."

"Oh, I know the rules." Lucerna smirked. "I have one half-brother by blood I haven't told you about yet. We weren't raised together, and we don't get along very well, but blood still counts for something."

"So tell me about him!" Vette interrupted. "And tell me about your husband."

"There's not much to say about my half-brother." Lucerna said, shrugging. "His name is Draagh and he's also force-sensitive, but I haven't kept a close watch on him. As for my old husband, he never existed. The marriage was the lie. I do have a stash of candy."

Now it was Vette's turn to smirk. "I know." She started. "That wasn't the lying part, the lie was that I hadn't found it yet."

"Then the boy's going to die."

Lizzie spoke matter-of-factly to the small assembled group in the room. Ashara gasped, Lucerna glared, Sanju sighed, Durmat facepalmed, and Talos was too busy looking at the readings on Mel'ake's mask to have heard the young Mirialan's comment. Mel'ake, the boy in question, was just as unconscious as he was before Lizzie's statement, and as such he had no reaction.

"Why do you think he'll die? Do you know about Force Ghosts and ancient Sith relics?" Lucerna asked frantically. Talos perked up and started paying attention when Lucerna mentioned Sith relics.

"Well.." Lizzie looked a bit unsure of herself now that the statement was out in the room. "It's more to do with this databook I read. I mean, a Force-sensitive strong woman following the light falling in love with an awkward Force-sensitive man who is an expert in healing and the mystic ways of the Force? It's bound to end with his painful death."

"What are you basing this off of?" Ashara questioned incredulously. Suddenly, a thought came to her. "This databook, don't tell me it's a novel.."

"Yes." Sanju and Durmat said simultaneously, exasperated. Durmat continued. "Lizzie is a wonderful person, a kind friend, and she has a good heart, but there's a reason Sanju and I handle diplomacy." Lizzie blushed.

Talos quirked an eyebrow as he spoke, "So, this entire claim was based off of your favorite databook novel?"

"Well.. not exactly.." Lizzie looked down at her boots uncomfortably. Talos, Ashara, and Lucerna leaned closer to catch Lizzie's next words. "It's not my favorite, not by a long shot. The beginning installments were wonderful, but then they killed off the best character by far, and it started getting annoyingly preachy. I mean, the boy's wife might have died too, I really couldn't read it any more. The 'good' characters could do no wrong even when they were killing innocents."

"Lizzie." Sanju said simply. The young woman got the hint and stopped reciting her review.

"She does this often?" Ashara asked, disbelieving.

"In the last three years, yes. I couldn't tell you beyond that." Durmat offered.

"I can say she's been comparing everything to books she's read since the three of us met when Lizzie and Durmat were nine." Sanju confirmed grimly. Lizzie blushed again and stepped back into a corner of the room.

"Wait.." Talos started, having done some mental math, "If you three met when Durmat and Lizzie were nine, how come Durmat only knows about the past three years of her life?"

Lucerna held up a hand and cut in. "I'll explain later, but that one is my fault. It's why I took them on the ship, I owe them one." She smiled warmly at Lizzie. "I have to admit, it took courage to seek us out after you rescued your friend Sanju after he was outed as am Imperial spy. If you can send the book to my datapad, I'd like to read at least the first installments."

Lizzie immediately brightened up. "You mean it? I warn you, there's some violence that would make a Dark Council member blush. Is that even possible? Can Dark Council members blush? You guys might know, being Sithy."

Ashara chuckled and pet Mel'ake's shoulder. "I can tell you from experience, Dark Council members can blush. And if you help us cure Mel, I guarantee you'll see it in action."

Fourteen-year-old Acolyte Draagh alternated looking over his father's message and watching the Korriban sky. He reread the holomessage so many times it was almost completely etched into his memory.

---My son,

I feel it is my duty to inform you that you have a younger sister, and she will be arriving on Korriban in the next few days. Now, I know this is a lot to take in, and it requires some explanation. Eleven years ago, Darth Hri'can was having trouble becoming with child. She offered compensation and favors to male Lords and Darths to attempt to get her with child. I was one of those who tried. She provided ample compensation and took some blood from each participant to determine paternity if the child was conceived and born. It was after your mother's death, and I did not feel like explaining the situation to you while you were so young. I thought nothing of it until yesterday, when I was contacted by the Darth herself. The girl she gave birth to was mine, and she is Force sensitive. Darth Hri'can did not send me her name, but she mentioned that she looks a lot like me and that she will be arriving with a house slave who was discovered to be sensitive that same day. As the girl's half-brother, you will have an inlet to forging a relationship with her and her mother, a powerful Darth. Make me proud.

Your Father, Lord Wheks----

you have a teenage sister. make friends!

"Are you sure the good Darth will be alright without his attending caretaker?" Lokin asked, nodding his head towards Talos. Pierce nodded.

"Lucerna's got enough sense in her to come running if something goes south. Plus, there's a couple things we need to go over." The Lieutenant's expression was all business. "Those blasters on your waists aren't just for show, I hope."

"Of course not, Lieutenant." Talos replied. "I am a product of our imperial military, after all."

"And blasters are just one of the many ways I know how to defend myself." Lokin volunteered.

"Good," Pierce continued, "You may need them. Lucerna wants at least one of the two of you to stay with Mel'ake at all times."

Talos gasped. "You cannot mean to ask us to eliminate him. I can tell you already, I will not take such an action against my Lord. I won-" He was silenced by Pierce holding up a hand.

"Lucerna doesn't want you to kill her brother. She wants you to be prepared to kill her husband."

Talos stayed quiet for a moment. Lokin made a small thoughtful sound.

"My my, and here I thought the happy couple were deeply in love."

"They are." Pierce clarified, looking uncomfortable talking about the topic. "I'll never know why, but she loves him, which is stupid. Still, she doesn't trust him, which I think is smart. She's worried Quinn will decide that his family is weakening the state of the empire, so will try to dispose of Mel'ake to turn the Wrath's attention back to what he deems important." Pierce growled. "If he makes any move to harm Mel'ake, you have the authorization to eliminate him."

"So her brother is more important to her than her husband.." Lokin mused.

"No." Talos spoke up. "I think I understand. She's always been about protecting those close to her. Anyone who willingly attacks some one under her protection is fair game, regardless of their previous service."

Pierce nodded grimly. The only reason the captain still lived was because he attacked the one member of Lucerna's family she didn't deem worthy of protection, the Wrath herself.

He wanted to look away from the holoimage of his little half-sister, but Baras would chide him for it. Strange how the shock and betrayal in her face threw a wrench into his stomach. He hadn't wanted to do this, hadn't wanted to kill his only living blood relative, but it was that or die. Her eyes- his father's eyes- widened as Draagh pressed the button on the detonator. He saw her dive away and protectively cover another flitting image with her body (smart money was on that stuffy officer who followed her around. Draagh spared no feelings for his death as part of the plan.) Then the call closed out.

-------

"You have a strange way of showing your affection, Apprentice." The voice came from behind the mask of Darth Baras. "Tell me why you ignored my orders and buried your pretty little sister in a cold dark cave rather than drive a lightsaber through her heart. I would think you would want to give her a proper duel, a fitting end for a true Sith."

"My Lord, how did you find ou-" Draagh started, but he was unable to say more as the large Darth rounded on him in a rage.

"You didn't think, did you? Your orders were to cut down your sister, not hide behind explosives in a coward's trick. The feeling of your lightsaber snuffing out her life would have made you rage, made you stronger. Instead, you couldn't bear to face your true feelings and hid. As for how I found out? You should very well know I have eyes everywhere. And you buried one of them with your sister."

"The officer?" Draagh stammered. He hadn't expected that one. "He survived?"

"If you have to ask, you're not half the Apprentice I thought you were. They both survived! Now be out of my sight! And don't expect to come back looking as handsome as you do now if you fail to kill your sister per my instructions again." Baras concluded.

Later that night in his chambers, Draagh played with his holocommunicator in his hands. He thought of calling Lucerna again, of warning her. He saw the way his sister looked at that officer of hers, the one Baras indicated was in his service. Baras was right, he couldn't bear the thought of murdering a family member outright, especially one that had saved his life and always had been courteous, even kind to him. If she died because he withheld information... If he knew she died because her beloved officer stabbed her in the back...

He almost finished dialing the holofrequency before he came to his senses and crushed the communicator in his fist. As the sparks from the dying device burned through his glove and into his hand, he vowed to extinguish any lingering affection he held for his younger sister.

The lone Sith gracefully sheathed her disengaged sabers and surveyed the damage she caused. Uniformed bodies littered the ground, most of them still smoking from saber burns. The Republic patrol was exterminated. She considered it rather a pity. If the fools hadn't attacked her, they would still be breathing. If the last soldier, just a boy really, had thrown his gun to the floor and asked for mercy, she would have let him go on his merry way with some kolto for his burns. Alas, once his fellows were dead, the boy charged her wildly. It was her life or his, so she killed him. But wasn't that always the case?

Lucerna Nocturne leaned her back against the rough bark of a Tarisian tree as she regained her breath. That was the way of the Sith, wasn't it? Kill or be killed. It was the lesson drilled into her from her mother's teachings. It was the lesson she learned for herself when a crazed escaped slave at the Academy ran in the middle of her combat lesson and started wildly shooting a blaster at her. The overseer could have easily dispatched the slave, but instead he insisted Lucerna prove herself worthy right there, or die. The eleven year old Acolyte ran the slave through with her training saber because she thought there was no other alternative. Now she knew she had another choice.

She could let herself die.

It was a decision to survive that Lucerna made almost every day. It was a decision to kill that plagued her every night. Was her life really worth killing so many? Would the galaxy be better off if she had let the soldier boy kill her?If she had let the slave kill her? If she had let so many in between the two kills end her life and save their own?

It was a question that wouldn't be answered right then as footsteps interrupted her thoughts. A large Nexu, drawn by the sounds of battle, strode into the clearing. Lucerna held her breath tightly. She wasn't afraid of the beast, but she didn't want another life on her hands today. Her efforts were in vain as the Nexu turned and looked right at her. It showed no signs of attacking as it walked up to her, staring at her with intelligent eyes. Lucerna instinctively extended her hand, letting the beast smell it. It got a good whiff of her glove stained with sweat and blood before it turned away and walked to the bodies. Lucerna let herself exhale. Nexu were usually arrogant creatures who had no qualms about killing prey. It took her a moment before realizing why this one didn't attack her.

"We're the same, aren't we?" Lucerna asked, knowing the answer. The predator faced the same decision she made every day. Lucerna knew Nexu stomachs were incapable of digesting plant matter. They had to eat meat, eat the dead, or starve. At the sound of her voice, the Nexu turned back to the Sith.

"Please.. how do you live with being a killer? How can you sleep at night? We're the same, please teach me."

Lucerna internally chided herself for asking such a silly question to a Nexu. However, the beast continued to look at her with understanding eyes. It let out a guttural friendly-sounding noise that Lucerna could never hope to translate. They stood for a while, staring at each other, before the Nexu tore its gaze away and walked back to the freshly-killed soldier boy. As its teeth started to tear off and devour chunks of lightsaber-cooked flesh, Lucerna supposed she had gotten as much of an answer as she was going to ever receive.

"Thank you, teacher." She whispered under her breath before turning around and slinking back into the forest.