Saber Forum

In a flurry of pseudomotion, the light transport reverted to real space on the edge of the system.  The pilot beginning the innumerable checks needed to ensure no damage had been done from dropping out so suddenly. 

His Passenger and Employer sat serenely in the passenger compartment taking in every wave of energy that reached the edge of the system.  It was building, the waves growing strong with each crash…

“Are we going back?” the pilot asked intruding on his thoughts.

“No…obtain an orbit nearby and wait for my instruction…we remain here.” He said before firmly gesturing the door closed, locking it with a flick of his mind.

Something was being unleashed on the planet he had just left…something powerful…confident…cunning…something turned against their mutual enemies - the Jedi…something….

Something a Sith had to control lest it destroy him.

His breath moved with the rhythm of the rain upon the roof.  The pot bubbled away, roots and grey meats within taking in the flavour of the leaves – everything in one simple pot, full of flavour and nutrition, a yellow flickering fire beneath…he had never quite been able to make it as good as his apprentice had made it…

The blue smokeless flames beneath the old pot as they would sit on a dozen worlds discussing questions to this day he had no better answers for, conversations more enlivening and challenging because of the difference in opinion.

Thunder cracked above brining him out of a half mediation.  There was much time on Dagobah…especially in the rain season…much time to think…to reflect on his failures.

They were as many as the drops that fell upon his hut.

He breathed out, breath wispy in the cold as he tried to wash out that brief remembrance…it had been…decades since he thought of that time – so many other things on his mind…a war…a battle for the soul of the Jedi – another battle for the Soul of the Jedi…another that they had lost. 

Yet now as he thought more…this war had not begun on Geonosis…nor even Naboo..the Clone Wars…no…the Clone Battles in a war that had begun centuries earlier…millennia even.  A war in the heart of every Jedi, a war he had fought on a dozen different sides over the years.  A war he still fought…900 years old and making the same silly mistakes. 

“Our lives are circular, we face the same battles and make the same choices, over the span of thousands of lives lived at once the pattern repeats as history.   The challenge to break that cycle, to face the same battle but make a different choice, one that does not keep us locked in to the cycle…that knowledge cannot come from within, for if we only rely on what we already know…our repetition is inevitable. “

Those words had been spoken nearly 600 years before by that same apprentice who had cooked the ancient food of his people in a single pot upon a force generated flame. 

He recalled the day it was spoken exactly…it was on Coruscant, Yoda had slept ill the night before worried about his apprentice undertaking the final trials.  In the morning he had visited Soryu who was, as always in those days around the nursery with his apprentice Sofa who was recovering from a coma never fully explained.  In one little cot was a small girl with the first strands of what would later be golden red hair.

She…that young girl…was the first…the first Jedi Yoda could safely and honestly say he had failed – allowed to be confused and twisted by so many competing ideologies – Kimars dogmatism, Valens pragmatism, Soryu’s idealism, Sofa Neirai’s materialism and yes Yoda’s own stoicism – such a heady mix that when faced with a challenging situation she buckled and broke…destroying a great man – the master singer Odjina – and many others in the process. 

It was not her fault…not her responsibility…she was a child forced to make decisions that even today Yoda would not trust himself or even Obi-Wan to make…perhaps.

Perhaps Qui-Gon.

She was the first he failed…but she was certainly not the last.

Kimar, Odjina, Soryu, Valens…names he had forgotten for years - from an Age of Gods…

And Monsters.

Few would remember those times…a few Gen’Dai and Anzat perhaps…there were rumours of an old Vhal’Dan still alive during the Clone Wars…he forgot the name, likely he had fallen to Vaders blade by now – another monster that was once Jedi.

That was a monster because of the Jedi.

No…he thought back on himself – he had not forgotten those names and times – he had shut them out - for to remember was too painful…too indicting of his continued mistakes…

“Our lives are circular, we face the same battles and make the same choices”

“Right you were Valens…heard your words…but listen I did not…” Yoda said out loud as though it might ward off his apprentices ghost.

He settled beside the fire stoking it gently as he took the pot off the boil and waited for it to cool.

What would he make of Yoda now…in exile…defeated by Sidious…Skywalker the great hope of the Order turned into the murderous Vader. Would Valens laugh, admonish – “I told you…I showed you,”…No that was not his way. 

He would simply ask “Why didn’t you listen to your greatest teacher? Why didn’t you learn from your failures?”

How could he answer that?

[/size]




Small groups sought gloomy corners, whispering fear in the bright of the Temple.

Black and blue coloured the force that held the tension between living beings – beaten and hurt.  Despair walked hand in hand with defeat to fill the empty halls.

The Room of a Thousand Fountains wept tears those who feared emotions could not. The battle was over, the Jedi had lost…

Everyone knew this, everyone felt it. The Council Chamber that they would turn to for leadership in such a times of need remained a a closed off Force-contaminated ruin.

As he made his way to the temporary council chambers the huddled group’s shyly glanced his way, whispers and worries cut the hollow air. A thousand questions that had no answers formed in a single word – Why? 

Everybody knew that Kimar was dead, Gurrlum, Yoren and dozens more. Everyone knew he was the heir apparent…

The Grand Master is dead, long live the Grand Master - Yoda ruefully thought to himself.

Heading up the stairs his gait firm and strong despite the difficulty his small stature presented in tackling them…he showed strength even as each new stolen gaze weighed down his steps with expectation and responsibility.  For direction, guidance, healing, answers – everybody looked to him.  Of these he had little to offer.

And everybody knew that too.


They met in one of the mid-level conference rooms while the council chamber was being repaired.

Only eight present…Kimar, Yoren, Gurrlum all slain.  They shuffled around the table with twenty chairs taking odd seats…a moment late Yshrrk, High Sentinel entered having to duck to get in the room, Yoda nodded to the hulking wookie Jedi, who in absence of a seat large enough to accommodate him stood.

No one seemed to be willing to start the session. Finally the holo –projection of Master Nagasa on Dantooine spoke up.

“As a first order of business…we need to appoint an interim Grand Master until a full conclave can be held…”  He glanced around “Nominations?”

It was pointless everyone knew who would be picked and voted on unanimously…still they needed to go thought he motions.

“I nominate Master Yoda to the position of interim Grand Master…” Master Nagasa declared, his voice slightly distorted by the transmission

“Seconded…” Soryu said somewhat less enthusiastically

All eyes around the table searched for something less uncomfortable to look at.

“If there are no other nominations, or veto’s?” Nagasa had the advantage of not feeling the emotions that saturated the Temple…for this reason alone he seemed to be able to keep some composure.

“Passed…This council Affirms Yoda as acting Grand Master, with all titles, powers and responsibilities until under the guidance of the Force a conclave can determine the next Grand Master….I propose the conclave be scheduled to commence in not more than three standard months, Core Standard time.”

“Seconded,” Torfun added impassively, “Passed”

Usura in the corner dutifully recorded the motions.

“Grand Master…” Nagasa turned over leadership to Yoda.  He paused considering how he would start his Grand Master-ship…yes it was temporary but he didn’t doubt he would be formally approved by the conclave – this was not arrogance, simply reality, other masters were either too close to Kimar or lacked ability. 

Taking up the mantle he spoke.

“A great loss we have suffered,” all eyes turning to him for the direction they craved, “a response formulate we must,”

He paused to see if anyone else would take up the chance to speak…none did.

“Repair and rebuild we must, but also justice seek…” his eyes hardened “Allowed to roam the galaxy freely, too dangerous Valens and his apprentice are…substantial their powers, absent their mercy…” 

He lifted his head to survey each of the other Masters,

“Propose I do, all non-essential missions suspend, our best recalled and into teams formed to find and,” he checked himself before he said ‘kill’,

“Apprehend these and their collaborators”

There was a murmur of agreement

“We also…” Soryu spoke up, “Need to decide how to communicate this…to the Order and outside…we are getting a lot of questions…I have the security footage, I think we should release it…”

“Master Kimar thought otherwise…” Master Yoruuba, suggested

A brief twitch of annoyance crossed Soryu’s face – Soryu had hoped in vain possibly Kimars politicizing and scheming would die with him.

“No nothing is achieved concealing the truth…only truth can help us heal…” he looked to Yoda, “We need to be honest about this…not just about Valens…but Kimar as well,”

That was a hard truth to bear… the review of Kimars documents and classified mission briefings had been a sobering experience. Mostly undertaken by Valens, but also on occasion the brutal deputy-High Sentinel Oma – a woman Yoda knew was one of Valens few friends in the Order – the missions seemed better suited to a Vigo of the Black Suns charge sheet.

Cartel and gang leaders eliminated on the request of Senators and senior Republic Bureaucrats, ‘dirt’ files compiled, entrapment of the Chancellors political opponents using prostitutes, phony business deals, union disputes for major corporations ‘settled’ using force persuasion techniques on dozens of individuals, plans to destroy the Gray orders and worst of all instructions to eliminate Jedi who refused to adhere to Kimar strict rule.

Yoda’s brow furrowed as he considered what to do…trying to discern the greater good…the force remained disturbed and erratic denying him calm and guidance.

“Release we shall not,” Yoda said firmly, “all records deleted must be,”

“Surely we must be open about…”  Soryu began

“Too dangerous these are…if widespread this becomes…if known the Grand Master in the heart of the Temple assassinated…our other enemies emboldened would become…if known the level of deaths ordered, confidence in the Jedi Order lost will be.  United, Strong, Untainted to all we must seem from the outside, or else Valens destruction continued through other hands will be,”

There were only half the nods

“That was Kimar’s reasoning…” Soryu added, “I didn’t like it then and I don’t like it now…”

“It was but the logic still holds…our vulnerability will become a self-fulfilling prophecy with this in the public sphere…” Yoruuba added, the Ongree’s eyes stalks talking in both Soryu and Yoda at once as the tide quietly turned in Yoda’s favour.

“The Former Grand Masters files not to the archives, but sequestered and redacted must be…the reputation of the Jedi and Senate…damaged would be if released.”

GONNG
Soryu slammed his fist on the table
“NO, this isn’t right…we can’t deny people the truth…just to…just to protect our reputation. We…” he looked around the room implicating all of them

“We are all responsible for these crimes…we ignored the signs…to now cover it up would be a sin to top them all and deny us any chance to learn as an Order from our mistakes,”

Yoda’s eyes narrowed as he considered Soryu’s odd use of the archaic word sin…indeed Soryu’s whole demeanour seemed much more combative.

“You lead the charge with Gurrlum in ensuring the Commission on Child Abuse within the Order was realised publically,” Soryu’s eyes were convicting and painful for Yoda to meet

“You argued then that only by facing the actions of our fellow Jedi, and accepting the consequences could we be true to the Code – True to ourselves,”

Yoda couldn’t deny the purity of Soryu’s motivations…nor the force of his argument - but the practical realities…they were barely recovered from the Child Abuse scandals, this was not the time to add promethium to the conflagration.

“A closed commission of inquiry I propose…into abuse of power by the former grand master,” Yoda offered to placate Soryu more than anyone else in the room,

He nodded in return,

“In that case may I recommend Kage Li Mack of the Mak’Tor or Kage Arkady Cyne of the Vhal Dan as independent commissioners,” Soryu replied,

“Out of the question!” Torfun boomed the Ootoolans eyes wide and watery, “We can’t have Gray Jedi poking around in our affairs…they’re dangerous enough as is!”

Yoda was just as shocked - that was almost a deliberately provocative suggestion in the current climate…The Mak’tor could hardly be called independent after Vyth…the Vhal Dan…if they read Kimars five year expansionary plan to ‘degrade and destroy’ the leadership on Galtea and recruit the left overs into the Order…

“An internal inquiry at first…Master Nagasa appoint I do to oversee it,” Yoda conceded to no one’s satisfaction.

Two weapons sat quietly in his hands, cool to the touch, small and innocuous…yet with these he could destroy the Order, a rain of fire from without whilst fracturing them from within.

In one hand was Truth, in the other the Means to Communicate it.  The moral objects physical aspects were a simple data disc and a data-commlink.

The data disc contained a copy of Kimar’s confidential files and plans, the one the paper Tusk cat of a commission of inquiry would review, ‘tut tut’ over then never release.

Was this what it was to be a Jedi now – to conceal and pay lip service to their own crimes, to prize reputation above reality, expediency over examination. This what not the kind of Jedi he wanted to be. This was not a kind of Jedi at all.

Truth, real truth, the concrete reality of a situation was painful to face.  To have the illusions, excuses and comforting compromises stripped away, the bare naked soul revealed was painful, for it offered no consolation, no great moment of clarity or wisdom, only the horror and disgust of what you had allowed yourself to become.

In the murky rust stained struts beneath he Temple Soryu saw himself like this, soiled, beaten, unable to live up to his own ideals.

He had failed to see the abuse Sofa had suffered, had let her increasingly sexualised behaviour slide as a result of his guilt, and allowed her to form a deep relationship with Valens.

He had sat silent as the Exile was pronounced over the Mak’tor, he should’ve protested, split the Order if he had to. He’d sat in silence as he did now.

And further still he had seen in Milaea all his hopes and dreams come to life, the embodiment of the Living force, and placed so much expectation upon her, been so blind to the reality of what she was going through….

This was his truth.
He placed the two weapons down and drew a more obvious one, his reflection in the sabre distorted by the curve of the hilt…as if a different mirror might change the man looking back at him. 

What Order had this blade fought for, what Republic…Certainly not the one he believed it could or should be.

The snap-hiss of the sabre echoed in the cavernous depths where foundations and support beams mingled like webs of an arachnid to support the monstrous idol of pomposity and power that was the Temple.  Cool Sunrider Green coloured his robes and no longer wrinkled hands, the familiar gyroscopic churning of the blade resisting his movements.

It was a clean, pure light…a light you couldn’t hide from yet didn’t wish to look into – this was like the Truth that sat before him in ones and zeroes etched into silicon and nano-crystals.

He faced the Truth of himself…he hated what he saw…but he looked upon it still. 

All he had failed, Sofa, Odjina, Valens, Milaea, the Order itself.

He was a tarnished knight – but to be a Jedi was to acknowledge this Truth, and act on it. That the others were unwilling to truly acknowledge that he, Kimar, Sofa, Valens were not an aberrations, but the product of the Order itself spoke of a tragic itnory – the Order had forgotten what it meant to be Jedi.

He could not act for the others, but from this day, he would act as a Jedi, not a member of an Order hypocritical in its purposes and ideals.

No more silence,
No more compromising,
Truth to Power.
He raised the Commlink.

[/size]


Chancellor Ovrith paced behind his desk, gaggle of aides off to the side tapping on touch screens, a swirl of different emotions, from the ambitious go getters watching like hawks to the jaded civil servants bored to death at another meeting they had nothing to contribute to but their physical presence. 

“Any lead is better than the nothing you’ve currently offered me Master Jedi,” the final two words sneered rather than spoked to Yoda,

He paused in his stride, his long blue finger pointing menacingly toward him

“Make sure justice is done…and seen to be done…swiftly and with finality…this is an election year…I don’t want this left outstanding when polling begins…”

Yoda could only nod…Ovrith was at best a slimy politician, at worst utterly corrupt…but he represented the people as the civilian oversight of the Jedi…how truthfully he represented them was not Yoda’s place to judge.

“This is the largest loss of life on Coruscant since the Sith War…” the Duro breathed before pointing an accusing finger straight at him,
“And you are meant to be the Guardians of Peace and Justice….the Senate wants that Justice Now!”

“Every effort to apprehend these criminals shall be made…all their victims Justice deserve,”

“Yes justice…justice…the courts…” he paused to return to his seat his previous anger clearly a piece of political theatre, likely for a front page pict, Yoda could see the headline now ‘Chancellor Demands action from negligent Jedi over Atrocity,’

The media storm was only slowly dying, still at least 6 pages of every major news holo-post were filled with increasingly wild theories about who was responsible and why, the most favoured were Corellian Sepratists, a group of University Anarchists and Yevetha suicide bombers.

“The courts are often slow…so much evidence and procedure…it would be difficult for them to render a verdict before polling at the end of the year,” Ovrith said in measured tones

Yoda understood his meaning…if the court were too slow a more direct approach from the Jedi would suit him just fine. 

Keeping his face neutral as possible Yoda swiftly realised how easy it would be to follow Kimar’s path…to confuse serving politician with serving the Republic they represented such a thin line that seasoned Politicians like Ovrith knew how to blur.

Yoda could feel the weight of expectation upon him.  He didn’t want to acquiesce to their desire without question…yet in this particular case the Chancellors end goal was the same as Yoda’s, even if the motivations were not as pure.

Yoda wanted justice, to see the Aethans held responsible, yet he knew they would never surrender peacefully, and no jail could ever hold them…to bring them back to Coruscant was too risky, they would have contingencies, mercenaries, possibly even friends within the Order. Even now rumours that Soryu had been ‘programmed’ were circulating – the only explanation for why Jarys – Sith of Cygrat, Bane of Jedi had spared him.

“These criminals, ruthless they are, unlikely to surrender…understand Chancellor, a violent outcome likely is when dealing with such terrorists,” he conceded, if Orvith wanted blood for the plebs, he could have it – this time.

The Duros face remained serious but his aura lit up like a Tree Day lights display.

“Of course…of course…unfortunately some people cannot be reasoned with…”

No Yoda thought…no they cannot.


He felt surprising calm for a man about to betray the Order. Beneath the Temple had had made his choice – he chose to be a Jedi, and this was what Truth and Justice demanded.

What was the worse they could do to him…exile, imprisonment…by then the Truth would be free - he could accept the consequences other imposed for betraying the Order, he could not accept the betrayal of himself if he didn’t perform his duties as a Jedi.

Two figures turned the corner, robes utilitarian brown. A smooth scan in the force from a familiar but long absent touch.  Purple lips beneath the hood showed a woman not the girl he recalled before the Exile had parted them.

Li’I Mack kept her hood on but tilted it back a little to regard Soryu…he looked…younger than she remembered strangely, it had been over twenty years – he should be an old man, a few years older than Odjina had been before…

“Thank you for coming Li…Kage,” he said tentatively, this was not the man she remembered physically or emotionally, whatever had happened on the Night of Madness and the preceding years had changed him, and not for the better. …a battle between moral purity and worldly pragmatism raging just below the surface.

“Li is fine Soryu…it’s been a long time,” she smiled a thin hum of calming on her lips.

“I needed to tell you this in person…the attack on Vyth…it was…” he paused again demonstrating just how hard this was for him

“It was devised and ordered by Grand Master Kimar,” now that was out the words flowed easily, the mountain summit reached it was all downhill,

“He sent a Knight named Valens, who was acting as his enforcer and assassin to infiltrate and destroy them, with him went a padawan, later knight Milaea,” he produced a small data disc from his robe causing Li’s guard to tense at the movement,

“This contains Kimar’s orders, pre-mission briefings, E-signatures and debriefing notes – proof that the Jedi ordered the destruction of the colony.”

Her fingers hovered over the disc as though it contained some kind of repulsive magnetic energy…she took it all the same.  The information from Ha’Ona’Mack, her droid and Odjina’s notes were consistent with the names…but she had never imagined Valens and Milaea were authorised by the Jedi…posing as Jedi yes but an officially sanctioned mission!

Breathing deeply turning her calming tune upon herself she kept her question as clear as possible,
“How could two Jedi unleash that…”

Soryu nodded, expecting the question,

“They are not human…Valens was…trained in unique forms of combat, abilities I can’t even begin to understand…Odjina…” this pained him to say, “Odjina never stood a chance…and after…” he had to say this now
“After Valens returned he unleashed the Night of Madness, killed Kimar in the Council Chambers, as well as over a dozen Jedi.”

Li was confused, Kimar ordered the attack on Vyth, sent an invincible psychopath to carry it out…

“So he turned on Kimar…he was a Sith?”

Soryu shook his head,

“It’s not that simple I…I wish I knew more…but what happened between them…I don’t know…my apprentice Sofa believed Valens was driven mad by the trauma of his own violence…but I think it had to do with Milaea and he being from a meta human species…more than that I honestly don’t know - No matter the tool used, Kimar was the one who ordered Vyth destroyed…I know the wounds of the Exile are still fresh…and now with this…”

Li understood his meaning, the bitterness over the Exile was still palpable, the slaughter on Vyth had re-opened many old wounds, and now… she wished Odjina were here…he would know what to do about all of…this…in her hands the cold data that proved the former Grand Master had sought their deaths and unleashed a monster upon them.  If she informed all the Maenowans…how many might turn rogue for revenge, would the chasm between Jedi and Mak’tor grow beyond all hope of crossing – but if she kept the truth hidden she betrayed position and herself.

“Thank you…for your honesty…” Li broke the strained silence

“I…will keep this in confidence…but if someone asks me specifically about all the details on this disc…I will have to tell the truth,” 

Disappointment ran through the force between them – he understood Li’s intent, to conceal the truth.  It was not his place to compel her to act truthfully, he had done his part. HE understood she wanted to prevent a permanent rift at the price of the truth – if Li believed that was a price she could bear, then let her bear it. He only hoped Jorl-Taf of the Vhal’Dan and his superior the Arbiter Anson D’Aklay would be more understanding

“Take care Li…and…the people on that disc…if you ever see them…” the tension was still high and he hated to add to it but could not stay silent. 

“Just give them whatever they want…resistance is not just futile…it’s suicidal…”



The blazing light of the pyre cast deep shadows across the assembled Jedi, their lit sabres did nothing to help offset the gloom.

Thirty Jedi lay upon that pyre, burnt in hiding in the northern hangar to avoid media attention.  He knew upon that pyre lay two bodies of Knights slain by their own…the imbalance in the force had churned their emotions beyond all control…in the heat of battle there had been no choice…

But also on this Pyre were the tattered remains of another…they had only found odd pieces of his body such was the conflagration he had been subject to.

Yoda hung his head in remembrance of the former Grand Master…he had disagreed with Kimar, vociferously and constantly…but he would not deny that Kimar had acted truly according to what he believed was best for the Jedi…

And Kimar had been right about Valens…

Yoda had been wrong…and seventy three Jedi all told had paid the price for his foolishness.  He pursed his lips in anger at himself, 300 years old and still making silly mistakes…he should’ve seen it, should’ve followed up on his suspicions, his doubts…

Failure was the greatest teacher he often said, and he had just been well and truly schooled.

He had been too eager to innovate, to learn from the young man…too accepting…too trusting…the legacy of that decision choked in his nostrils as the bodies whittled to ash.

OK,  wait a second...   Did you just start a story with a screen scroll?????    That was awesome.  :-)

And so we dive into the aftermath.  Yoda, Soryu, Li...   This is a mess, plain and simple, and there is pain and confusion and blood to go around.  I am struck by Soryu's advice to Li: "If you meet one of these people, give them what they want..."

Maybe Li should have put that in her file....     Karm certainly didn't get that memo!  LOL

Yep.

ALL that was promised AND more!

This is already shaping up to be another FANTASTIC installment from LSG!  And I LOVE the continuity tie-ins with both the other "Aethan" stories and the various "Gray Jedi" groups  ;D

And Soryu is SO right..._{yes, that's a shameless plug for a...future scene  ;)}

Chapter 2: SOON PLEASE!  :)

In the midst of whipping a particular annoying former rival…a Herglic strapped face down, blow hole plugged with wet rags to choke it while he lashed its back with the electro-whip….he sensed the blazing spark in the force…

Ord Mirit, a depot world for the near core, was hardly that far from Coruscant…nonetheless…it was staggering in its intensity…

Two titanic powers clashed without restraint, caution or fear…he held back the next flog allowing the dark side to carry the tidings…

Yes…a lifting of the darkness…a shift in the balance…

“hmmm…interesting…” he mused out loud cracking the next stroke across the bloodied back…

His toy for the early evening had attempted to oust him from the Artraxes spice run in an ill-fated Turf war…defeated the Herglic had fled to Vigo Aur Hondo on Ando who duly turned him over to Xithar as a show of ‘fraternity’ – in spite of the fact it was Hondo who had silently supported him…still Xithar would not be denied the satisfaction of punishment…the nectar of the sublime contrast …the Herglics pride not to wanting give Xithar any satisfaction… yet the primal need to express his pain….

“HRRNNNGGGHHH”  it blew out,

Delicious…the rich ambrosial satisfaction of knowing it was Xithars dominance producing the pain only sweetened the taste…

By dominance were pleasures realized.

“Ah feeling talkative now are we?”  he jibed contemplating how to humiliate the creature further.


Reclining whilst flicking through the latest reports, a twi’lek slave unenthusiastically pleasured him - Xithar wasn’t up to exuding his Falleen pheromones to motivate the girl making her efforts mechanical.

The door hissed with his gentle sighs.
 “Master…” his apprentice began,
“I know, I know…I’m already considering a response,”

Darth Vectivus bowed…he had come to Xithar, or rather Darth Lucovis, a family and businessman in his mid-thirties.  The administrator of an asteroid mine near Bimmiel Vectivus had discovered a repository of the dark side in the asteroid from a long extinct mynock like species.  It had driven the miners mad, Vectivus quietly shut it down as his vistas opened up with the call of the dark - eventually seeking out a true master…

At the time Lucovis apprentice had failed once too often, not keen on training another young one Vectivus was perfect…a thoughtful man, not obsessed with power or anger - a Sith for a more civilized age.

“May I assist in any way Master,” he asked, they were both reasonable businessmen seeking to profit the Sith Line of Bane and so remained cordial amongst the occasional assassination attempt.

“I believe my connections will be more useful in this matter,” he replied shooing the slave away, as Vigo of the Black Sun in the Core information from every bar and cantina from here to Corellia dripped through his analysts.  Vectivus more conventional industry and political source ensured a perfect blend of the rogue and the respectable.

“Nonetheless,” he arced up, body firm and strong, only one hundred and twenty five, just past middle age for a Falleen, the ministrations of the Darkness made Xithar feel seventy-five. 

“Keep your channels open…I’ll no doubt find some leads for you to follow…rarely does any event - even amongst the Jedi - not involve credits somewhere,”

“Indeed Master,” Vectivus replied, he was early fifties now, an average looking human corporate type, greying brown hair, life worn skin, strong but subtle in the dark side. 

Though a key player in the long game to restore their place it worried Lucovis, his apprentice with a human life span was getting too old to take the mantle of master – let alone find time to raise a new apprentice – what then for the Baneite line?

Xithar paused a few beats waiting for Vectivus to make a move…a dagger, hold-out blaster…poison dart perhaps…Anything at all?  No…not any hint of an attempt to kill his master…disappointing.

“I will call on you when required…continue your self-scourging, the pain will purify your thoughts and may yield insights into this new…curiosity,” he did not call it enemy…yet.

“It shall be done Master,” he bowed and exited,

The Falleen rose and stretched out noticing the stains on the sheets, he needed to get a slave who was a bit neater about it all.


He hadn’t laughed so hard in years.

The ‘official’ report on Coruscant’s Night of Madness, three thousand people exposed to a neural inhibitor months before all exhibiting violent symptoms on the same night in random places!  Let’s ignore they were different species…

An Electrical fault causing lighting surges at the Jedi Temple!  Let’s ignore the explosions at the Works and the dozen of home-vids of two figures fighting it out with lightsabres….

Truly too precious…Kimar had outdone himself in ridiculous cover-ups!  Or he would’ve…whilst most details anyone could get from tavern gossip, the Black Sun info-analysts and informers had confirmed Kimar and up to 30 Jedi were dead…Xithar considered a posthumous honour….Darth Incompitus perhaps.

The imbecile had not only exiled the Mak’Tor, sidelined his best Masters, trained a generation of unimaginative regimented Knight, but now started what could well be a civil war.

Too rich not to celebrate, he threw another Hapan kuu-bettle, lightly fried in Chandrillan butters into his mouth as his new slave, a Sephi female, worked her mouth…His own master had been such a prude…never enjoyed life…this was how a Sith should live…what use was power and dominance if it didn’t yield pleasure 

Hedonistic the other Vigo’s called him, a badge he wore with pride, he didn’t need such opulence but it served as a pleasurable façade.  The yellow incoming call light beeped on the dresser, he flicked it with the force not wanting to move as the Sephi continued….

“So what do you have for me?” he asked the holograph of his Chief Analyst, Dursil Phoris, unusually gaunt even for a Givin,

“The Jedi have purged their own security footage…but we managed to reconstruct enough from home-vid’s to pick out the two protagonists,” his face vanished replaced by two Coruscant citizen identity photos with standard details …

“Knight Valens and Knight Milaea…very young…human…,” he flicked through attachments that listed their missions taken from the archives…so banal, so…

“Fake, it’s all fake…” he noted

“Correct Vigo,” Phoris voice came through, “Someone appears to have altered the records pertaining to both them and a number of other Jedi they were involved with,”

“The mystery deepens, what else?”

Another image, this time a fragmentary half face of a man with dark hair in grey armour,

“We believe they have links to this man…one Jarys of the Sons of Kessel”

Xithar frowned, he knew some Jedi supported the Sons secretly…but enough to kill Kimar and dozens of others? Something did not add up here.

“Maintain your investigations…forward me all the details – all of them no matter how small, I want this to be your priority, take resources from the other divisions as neeheeeeded…oh my little Sephi you are talented…”
 

“What do you think Turkan?” He asked the groaning Herglic

“how do I find this pair?” he stuck another needle in the creatures thigh…six in a row…forty four more to go…

“urrrghhh,”

“Yes a bounty is one option…let the hunters do their hunting but how much?”

He stabbed in number seven,

“UHHH”

“Oh 10 million is much too much…how could I justify that to the other Vigo’s?”

Number eight

“hrrmmm…”

“Yes you’re right it needs to be high to attract the right quality hunters…”

Number nine

“….”

“oh didn’t that one feel good,”

Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen.

“rrnnggghhh”

“Ah now I’m…oh sorry! YOU’RE enjoying yourself,”


It was a dangerous process…the tight rope of disaster…yet without risk there could be no reward…

Freshly hatched wyrms sloshed in the thin pool deep below his azure and gold decorated private chambers…he sat amongst them to assert his dominance physically and with the force. 

They were ravenous for pain and fear – from him they must sense only strength…even the slightest hint of fear as they crawled up his naked legs and arms and they would attack

Here he tested his dominance over himself.  Fear…anger…all this he felt at times, to deny it was foolish…yet he must show we was master of his emotions or he would die from the poisons of the wyrms he had created for this very purpose.

It was an art of Sith Alchemy that through meticulous experimentation on innumerable subjects he had finally perfected, to create creatures that fed upon and sought specific emotions.  The concept extended he could create wyrms for a dozen different purposes now…but always they began this way, fear feeders.

The micro-podia scratched into his skin, a pain he allowed to exist only as neurological reality, the boldest of the wyrms crossed his face, pausing before his open eyes, giving him a direct view into its tubular depths dripping with noxious digestive acids.

He would dominate this one - the strongest - first, then the others would fall more easily…to show dominance in the right time and place was the key to effective power, something his fellow Vigos had yet to learn, Hondo in particular.

The stunted Aqualish who funded then betrayed Turkan thought himself a rival, thought to lead the Black Sun by force of will and personality……no it was weakness, true dominance was not shown, not obvious or active – is passively contorted the galaxy to its will.

“Hondo will fall to my dominance,” he began his rhythmic breathing
“Valens will fall to my dominance,” to dominate did not mean to kill but to control
“Milaea will fall to my dominance,” the wyrm’s pincers dug into his skin
“You will fall to my dominance ” he pushed out verbally and mentally against the wyrms primordial consciousness…the simplicity of its drive to eat and reproduce made it more difficult to manipulate than a sentient for Xithar furtherer neither of these goals -  he had only his will to impose dominance.

It’s mouth puckered then squealed out, drops of acids flicked on his skin searing welts as it pressed to break his pain into fear.

No you will not dominate me…I will dominate you…gathering his strength he pressed forward….

And then the Galaxy.

Enter the villian.   Darth Lucovis aka Xithar...   What a nasty piece of work!  And a Vigo.  I see the seeds here of the breaking of the Sons at this time.  Not sure if resolving that point is part of your intent...

I loved this line:  "A sith for a more civilized age."  That one just tickled me a bit.  :-) 

And the end: His intent to dominate Valens and Milaea...  Yea.  Not happening.  But this story may give us some more insight into how the Aethans we know now became the Watchers of 5ABY...

Awesome entry and well begun!  :-)

I like the introduction of the Sith in regards to Aethan involvement.  This should offer an excellent counter-point from their instigating the Night of Madness.  Ironically, it's BECAUSE of that that Xithar is now aware...

I really, REALLY like this iteration of the Sith, especially as Baneite acolytes.  Once again, it never ceases to amaze me of your vast knowledge of SW canon, LSG.  You've seamlessly included SO much within this installment... I am EAGERLY anticipating the next chapter!

And from hedonism to dominance, this Darth Lucovis is going to be one to watch...

Yeah.  A Darth AND a Vigo...  Or a Darth COVERED as a Vigo?  Or a Vigo who happens to be a Darth???

However it falls, you have to appreciate the irony of the Kimar obsession over the Mak'Tor while the Sith flourished right under his nose...

I know right almost overkill!  But then how could anyone less than that hope to stand up to an Aethan?


Fun fact Vectivus is actually canon - so check him out on wookipedia - I've adapted him more or less intact just added Xithar/Lucovis as his master and in time you'll see more of him.


Compared to Faradi this guy is nothing - I should've gotten Dutchman to write the torture scene!

As for the Sons [SPOILER ALERT]

He had spent the entire trip preparing for it….

First he felt it in the force, woken in a startling scream and tears.

It was partially relieved when Ha’Ona had made it back to M’Tzigon alive…

Second he felt it when he heard from his niece between streams of tears what had happened…

Now finally…

Despite all that warning…all that time

The grief was too much for him,

He broke against the echoes of the song in the caverns of Vyth…sliding down a charred column…it was everywhere…the very walls sung it…

Members of the Forensic team and the Kage’s Honour Guard sat huddled in a small circle being ministered to with excerpts from the Psalter and the Book of the Way.  In the centre of the chamber a pile of bodies bagged by that same team, the corridors and training room replete with cold dried bloody drag trails.

Odjina’s body was gone, but the lingering trace of his death remained, he had become one with the force…his friend, his mentor, his master…the best of them all….

For that alone Jo’Set would’ve have spent a thousand lives to punish whoever did this…but there was worse….

His sister, Ho’Li’Mack was among the dead, a violent cut in her throat and hideous sabre burn through her back….

For THAT he could not - would not rest…could never forget and could never forgive.  Fists clenched he slowly stood up.

“Jo,” Li startled him from behind probing in the force…“We are hurting…but that is a path…you do not want to tread,” she could read his intent like a datapad

Her words did nothing to stem the pain he felt,

The Kage approached him and placed her hands on both his shoulders, her purple lips tinged blue in the ice light, she could feel the intensity boiling off him…he was only the first of many who would feel this way…

“There was nothing you could’ve done had you been here…you would’ve been killed too…” he kept his eyes fixed on white bag with the indifferent tag that read ‘Mack – Ho’Li’.

“Take your time here…talk to Father Bernar…” Li too looked downcast now burdened with the weight of leadership…”but you need to go home soon…Ha’Ona needs you, she just lost her mother, don’t let her lose her uncle as well,”

He kept silent, this was just the same tired wisdom offered in the wake of every tragedy…revenge doesn’t help anyone, focus on the living, grieve but don’t let it consume you…he had said it to others himself before…

But faced with the visceral reality of his sisters charred corpse and his nieces trauma….it meant nothing to him, he didn’t want or need to hear this useless rambling.

The Kage released her gentle grip sensing his disinterest. It was too late for platitudes…too late for anything other than anger, fury and revenge…the last of his tolerance, his resilience…

…the best of him lay a blackened corpse betrayed and murdered. 

He pushed past the Kage and headed toward the hangar,

“Don’t leave like this Jo!” Li called after him over the cries of the others, rushing up to grab his arm.

“There is nothing we can do…we...we need to live…to go on”

He still kept his grief heavy silence. 

She understood, his desire for justice, retribution…yes even revenge…but none of that was possible…not after what Soryu had told her of the…things…who did this.

And yet she couldn’t stop him either, in all honesty his absence would be better for Ha’Ona than his rage.

Breaking her thoughts he pushed past her
“Jo…if you leave…it will only hurt Ha’Ona more…”

In that moment he didn’t really care.


Alone and brooding in the living quarters of the Rain Song, he felt the memories gaze with accusing stares.

It had been his families main ship for generations, undergone so many modifications he doubted much of the original was left.  His grandmother Ha’Ona had taken it to Ryloth finding the impoverished but immensely talented Odjina.  He and Holly had learnt to fly in it…He had piloted it to Vyth after being expelled from the Temple, Hol’li’s husband Jay had proposed to her in this ship…and they had taken it on their honey moon to Hapes…

It hurt to leave his niece behind…the Kage was right she had lost so much…but the way he felt now…he knew he would only hurt Hannah more…he had to get this out of his system…and there was only one way to do that.

He stared at the fragmented records Four-Ten had of the final moments on Vyth…the sneering Sith…

Are you going to fight me Ha’Ona

He had taunted a seven year old girl

Jo had spent the better part of six hours trawling through Four-ten and the security footage that had survived from Vyth…there were two of them, a male 30 or so, and a female, about 19 or 20…the girl had killed Hol’li, the male Odjina…

Four-eight beeped and booped next to him in concern…the Four series Astromechs were something of a family tradition, he had Four-Eight, Holly had Four-Ten, her husband had Four-nine…he vanished in the deep core just after Ha’Ona was born…so much loss suffered by one child….Li would take care of her better than he could.

“Not till I find their names,” he replied

Four-eight twirtled and brought up a cross reference to a request Odjina had made a few days before he was slaughtered, for details on his ‘guests’.

“Valens and Milaea” he said aloud looking at the scant details the Mak’tor had on them,

Two names caught his eye in addition,

“Yoda and Sofa Neirai…” he knew Sofa from his time at the Temple when he was young, she had been Soryu’s apprentice…

Soryu was the greatest friend they had, found Vyth, fought tooth and nail to prevent their exile…and Yoda was legendary…how could these monsters be an apprenticed to such great Jedi?

Four-eight made another series of exclamations,

“Fine I’ll eat something,” a burst of static nagging in response,

“And I’ll try and sleep…but wake me as soon as we reach Coruscant…I need to speak with Soryu,”


First the Song of Vyth had assailed his senses in the caverns…and now just landing on Coruscant…this was a planet soaked in darkness and pain.  Feeling this he knew how pathetic the ‘official’ explanations of what had happened really were, spurring his rage even more.

The Night of Madness had ended with some kind of cataclysmic battle at the top of the temple -from the transparisteel walled corridors of the space port he could see work crews rapidly repairing the structural damage…but the wounds in the force might never truly heal. 

He could taste the similarity to Vyth…the same people had been responsible for the madness…even if they hadn’t killed his sister he might have been driven to hunt them by the pain they had left on Coruscant alone.

He hired a small hover car and headed for the temple…he had not been there in nearly fifteen years…since the exile….if he had any nostalgia, regret or pain at what had happened it was drowned by the tides of burning grief that set him on his course.

Landing nearby in a public parking bay and walking up the steps his memory of that day was vivid, the Council looking down at them as the Sentinels pushed them from the steps, Odjina stern as his heart broke…his sister…Hol’li…he started to tear up…he couldn’t think of her now….


The temple was a mess…like the rest of Coruscant not so much physically, as in the force…off balance…something had shifted…if he had the time he would visit the Spire - but he doubted it.

The tone was subdued no one challenged him as he entered, small groups huddled and gossiped fearfully, it was a reflection of M’Tzigon after they had sensed what had occurred…what was occurring, on Vyth…incomprehension in the face of utter merciless destruction.  The force was a swamp of fear, astonishment and confusion…he searched for any pillar of stability…

There were only two…one high above in the meeting rooms…the other far below in the under levels…he knew where Soryu would be.


Odjina had taken him and Hol’li to the Mak’Tor Shrines in the under levels often…shrines they had to all but loot for whatever they could carry once the exile was pronounced…he knew the exact room Soryu would be in, a maintenance area near the true under levels where the force auras from the citizens above mingled with that of the shrines below…the crossroads.

He sat legs crossed meditating, feeling a hundred years older yet looking decades younger than when he had last seen him.  Jo approached…barely a Koawan last time he had spoken to Soryu…now a Maenowan…still he felt overshadowed by the Masters presence. 

Soryu slowly opened his eyes,
“Jo…Jo’Set’Mack?”
He bowed slightly,
“Master Soryu…”
The old man leapt up with startling speed and embraced him,

“My boy…a man now…ah truly you don’t know how much it means to see you here after….well…” they could both sense it, he returned the embrace,
As they parted his face fell,

“I know about Odjina…Vyth…was Holly…” he didn’t even need to finish the question to see the answer, “I’m sorry Jo, so sorry…”

Jo straightened up supressing his tears.

“Who are they?” he asked directly,

Soryu nodded and gestured for him to sit, but he remained standing.  The old Jedi deduced Li hadn’t spoken to him, or hadn’t told him the details…in either case he would not withhold the truth from Jo - from anyone who asked.

“The two at Vyth…Valens and Milaea…they’re…Aethans Yoda called them…meta-humans, powerful force users, they came back here and caused all this,” he indicated the air about them as surrogate for the disrupted force.

“But there are others too…one I fought on Santooine and here…he killed Gurrlum and Yoren, there are likely more, how many I don’t know” 

Two Jedi Masters…this was worse than he thought

“Why?” he kept his words few

Soryu sighed deeply,

“Kimar…” he began but stopped himself, the whole Order had to own this, they had destroyed not just the Mak’Tor, but Milaea and themselves that day – no – not destroyed shown the truth of what the Order had become, a conformist intolerant machine that crushed the poor girls heart into hurting others.
 
“Failures…pride…confusion…indifference…” Soryu paused his indictment of the Order to suddenly look at Jo, sensing his intent,

“Jo…don’t…” it was bad enough Yoda was considering going after them, if the Mak’Tor hunted them as well, if Valens or Milaea felt threatened…

“Are you going to help me Soryu or not” he asked clinically

“I…I can’t….Jo listen to me…Odjina…Hol’li wouldn’t want this…” he replied

Jo nodded in agreement,

“You’re right, they were better than me…better than us both.”

To that Soryu had no response.

I remember reading/hearing that for every situation where there is a consequence you expect, there is at least one that is unintended and/or unplanned for.  Now: just what is Jo'set going to do about this?

Delving further into the Aethans actions and their ramifications on a galactic scale is already turning into one hell of a mess.  Which makes for the absolute best pathos  ;)

This can only get worse (and, for us, better  ;D).

Running off half-cocked seeking justice, revenge, or some form of recompense seems to be a 'Mack family trait.  I might need to speak with Karmack and Arnor about this...   Or maybe Ken and Ry would be a better target....

;-)

Nice.  As Dutchman said, there are always consequences to an action.  Some are anticipated, others will surprise you.  But the piper always needs to be paid.

Ironically, it seems to be a concept that the Aethans don't always grasp, either.... 

This was where it began.

Only the invaders machines and bodies had been removed…the blackened buildings and scorched stones remained glistening in the light rain.

This was where the galaxy had declared war on the People.

She hadn’t understood…not fully…their point of view before now…

This had been the centre of their society, everything and everyone else was ‘outside’ - outside had attacked - half their population massacred, the rest enslaved, ripped from their home and thrown to death and suffering across the galaxy.

Everyone Outside was trying to kill or abuse them…they would never forget, never forgive - no arguments or ethics could undo what they had seen with their own eyes…the attack on Coruscant, the Night of Madness they called it, was another battle in the war forced upon the People…their culture was incapable of a distinction military and civilian only Us and Them.

The force…the aether was rich - a fog suffusing the sleet with pain and grief. 

Flow walking as her boots sunk into the mud of once compacted stone streets past wet black wood mossy from two decades in the elements she saw…

Here a group of children cowered after seeing their mother valiantly but futilely try and fight off six Gammoreans, there an old man hurled rocks with the aether from a roof, telling his teenage granddaughters to stay hidden…it did them no good – these were farmers, tailors, blacksmiths, their martial potential unrealised in a life of peace and safety overseen by a mere eleven Guardians.

In the main street….those Guardians had given their all…overwhelmed by the shock of strange flying machines, obscene aliens and incomprehensible weapons they had still killed hundreds…it was not enough…the echoes of her great grandfather…Andis…tearing himself apart to kill the Mandolorian who lead the attackers was still strong….

She wiped the rain and budding tears from her cheeks, long golden red hair stuck to her face and neck saturated. Now she could finally see, could finally feel the pain that could catalyse an Oblivion Army into life… the fanaticism for survival she saw in Valens, Jarys and Kiraea.

“You see it now don’t you,” the old man behind her,

Melron…the oldest of them…his regret at not having died with the others – to have to live with his cultural role unfulfilled - was a stagnating weight upon him.

“They came from outside…and tried to destroy you…I understand…” she replied over the dull patter of precipitation upon old wood.

 “hrrmph”  he grumbled, he was the last of the old culture…the others who had been in the galaxy at large were the first of the new, they knew they could never go back to how things were.  In his heart Melron did too, but was too old…too heartbroken to move forward…

They had been fading before the Devastation…a population below replacement level, dying of infections from cuts and scrapes brought on by aether wielding bacteria and viruses that had evolved in sync with their superior immune systems, lacking the technology to synthesize sufficient quantities of flower and fungi based medicines that could fight them. If even one of those disease escaped into the Republic…the Candorian Plague would become a footnote in comparison.

<Escape or be released? Chiss Technology, thin tubes encased within Ultra-dense shells dropped down gravity wells – billions dead in days, Plague preceded War in the Apocalypse of the Republic>

She shook the image of her overactive imagination off as she knelt down beside a small collection of rain worn trinkets - voluptuous feminine forms lovingly rendered….a gender imbalance that left two women for every man, and ecological disaster from the Collapse restricted them to one habitable Valley…in a strange way the Devastation by forcing the galaxy upon them may have saved them from a quiet death on a forgotten world.

“I don’t like the way you’re thinking,” he said at her thoughts,

“Perhaps not,” she replied, Milaea found the best way to deal with her guide was a bluntly as possible “But there is truth in it,”

“So there is…doesn’t excuse what the outsiders did to us,” he replied with equal parts scorn and humour,

She sighed, “No…no it does not…” she crouched into the mud and took a handful of the wet grey dirt, feeling each granule…sand, soil and ash…

This…this was her home…


Her body seized and skin crinkled in the cold.  She pushed back up through the crystal clear waters to gulp in chilly air - it was cold enough outside without plunging into the pools fed by a glaciers barely melted snow.

The setting was picturesque…dark and light grey rocks, flecked with ultra hard blood red stone, deep green shrubs with delicate blue flowers which soaked up the splashes from the waterfall they called Aephrodaea’s tears.

“Want me to start a fire, you look cold?”  asked Kiraea, standing stood by the pool, left hand on her hip, right toying with precise arcs of aetheric fire completely naked.  Despite their fight on Corsucant, or perhaps because of it, Kiraea seemed determined to make Milaea feel comfortable and teach her everything…

“I’m fine,” she replied through quivering blue lips.  To be fully accepted by the rest of the Aethans she needed to go through somewhat tribal initiation rituals…One for each of their Goddesses… an anthropologists dream to study she mused. 

Milaea’s memories as Aethena took her only to the Collapse…700 years of isolation and technological regression had followed for the handful of survivors...the Goddesses once symbolic in the secular Technocracy were now real, their myths mingled memories of Aethena’s actual achievements, their sense of superiority now a violent insularity.

Kiraea slid in beside her, for a woman sixteen years her senior there was no visible difference in age…the ancient Aethans had successfully cracked the genetic puzzle to prevent ageing with stringent RNA encoding that prevented the replication errors that resulted in cell deterioration – it was the cutting edge and somewhat in doubt before the Collapse.   

Even so it was not perfect – Melron was visibly old – Milaea hypothesised it required more nutrients and vitamins than were present in the Valley to initiate the second pubertal phase at the age of 20 in women, 25-30 in men - with access to better foods in the Republic Kiraea and the others had benefited where Melron who was in his sixties at the Devastation had missed the key phase.

Kiraea seemed to find it hard to explain the details of the rituals to her…it was so ingrained in their culture that they ought need no explanation - Milaea had already surmised that like most traditional culture’s, they revolved around survival, seasons and especially fertility.

“These waters,” Kiraea indicated to the roaring melts plunging from high above,

“Are the tears of Aephrodaea, wept after the Collapse…for her lost children…her sorrow never ceases…”

“But the tears revealed the blood stone,”  she pointed into the water at the deep red lines of stone that peeked between the grey rock…a mythical explanation of erosion uncovering a rock formation….

“The symbol of her enduring gift…the blood all women shed…the essence of life with which the children of Aephordaea might have their own children,”  Milaea saw where this was going…they had associated the red stones with menstruation…no doubt why Kiraea had insisted they both be naked, this was a women’s initiation place.

“You think I’m some kind of know nothing superstitious fool!”  Kiraea suddenly screamed at her, she had a blazing temper that Milaea had seen far too much of on Coruscant…but Milaea could not judge her for her wanton slaughter…she had done just as much on Vyth…and Kiraea was of her People.

“Don’t think you can analyse us like some kind of professor from Bar’Leth…we know what’s a myth and what’s not…but these are our stories…these connect us to our planet, our past, the aether, our bodies and to each other…”  Kiraea’s expression was very delicate and wounded…it shocked Milaea to see this almost pathologically violent woman look so vulnerable…

“I…I’m sorry Kiraea,”  Kiraea looked away from her…in traditional cultures like this to not look at someone was a very serious act of ostracism…but thinking like that would offend her even more…

<Tears stung her eyes.  Blue flames licked across her body as she pushed apart blast doors like they were rotten paper.  The few remaining guards were in full flight, she didn’t bother chasing them, simply set them alight from within leaving withered ash inside creaking armour.>

“Truly I am…” Milaea added ignoring the scene that played in the back of her head.

Kiraea looked back toward her, her expression softened and she held out her arms…for all the brutality they showed outsiders, the Aethan women were extremely affectionate toward each other…on the trip back the eldest woman Selaena had stated playing with Milaea’s hair for no apparent reason whilst the other girls, Adaea and Lyaea had bombarded her with kisses, sniffed her and compared breast sizes thereby discerning which family lineages she was part of.

She waded forward and entered Kiraea’s embrace…she felt very vulnerable, hugging a woman she barely knew completely naked, out in the open like this…but there was a genuine warmth that flowed from Kiraea in the Aether.  The elder woman backed away and kissed her on the forehead,

“It’s ok…it’s not your fault the Jedi were too ignorant to teach you anything useful,” she went to move away but Kiraea kept her hand around her waist,

“Where was I…oh so these pools, when a girl has her first period she comes here, usually with her mother and sisters and aunts…to wash herself and be blessed by Aephrodaea with many children…and then when they’re older they learn the Arts of Aephrodaea here…” she gestured to a cavern behind the white falls.

Something about Kiraea’s aura suddenly flickered with anticipation and excitement, Aephrodaea was their Goddess of life…fertility…perhaps the Arts were about child-birth.

“That’s part of it…” Kiraea said responding to her thoughts…whilst she knew some Jedi could do that on occasion, Aethans seemed to use thoughts and spoken words interchangeably in conversation - more efficient – and when they did speak averaged 600 words per minute.

“Most important is learning about the divine form you’ve been born with - there are many Arts…some that lead up to children…some that stop you conceiving until the right moon…and some that are just for pleasure” now she seemed very excited…

“Umm…what exactly do these Arts involve…”  Kiraea suddenly pulled her much too close for comfort…

“Don’t worry…I’ll teach you every last one,”


Of all the people she was to be taught by, this was the one she was most worried about…although had she known what Kiraea was going to teach her…and how hands on every delicate part of her it was going to be….

Her father…Jarys…stood on the ridge overlooking the forests of the valley, lightly armed with a few newly cut spears, rough leather armour that seemed to suit him all too well…

The first time they had met…she had slammed him into a ferrocrete wall then fought him to a standstill after he had almost killed Sofa…not the best reunion…Since then he had killed Gurrlum, Yoren half a dozen other Jedi and almost killed Soryu twice…not someone a former Jedi should feel safe around…

He looked over to her, he was certainly handsome in a way, dark brown hair that he had let grow a little since coming home rather than his previous efficient military cut, steely eyes…but there was a deep sadness to him…his wife, his child ripped from him along with his whole life…

<His body was a lattice of scars layered over genehanced muscles from a hundred branches, leaves and rocks scraping against predator strides >

“Here,” he called to her as she shook off another vision, unable to tell if it was past or future.

Old Melron she could relate to easily enough…he was like many a humorous old Jedi Master she had met, Maeson was much like a quiet uncle…the women…with their constant affection toward her, she couldn’t help but feel close to…and Valens she knew from long before…but Jarys….

She walked over, she hadn’t exactly had time to pack when leaving Coruscant and borrowed an ill-suited form fitting outfit from Kiraea, who had wider hips but a smaller bust.  He crouched low and surveyed the tree tops as she joined him…

The forests were alive…full of creatures of all types that used the aether…and some that repressed it, let it flow around them, or actively negated it…Soryu would’ve liked it here…so much to learn about the force in such a small place…and all of it so natural…yet there was an apprehension among the creatures…Odjina would’ve called it an imbalance….

“Too many Vorynx,” Jarys said picking up on her thoughts…

“We used to hunt them when they got too numerous for the Valley to support…but with us gone…” she could fill in the rest as she spied a lumbering animal of Orange brown fur the height of a human with small concealed horns – a Gormin –and behind it a group of utterly vicious animals in a pack…they resembled the vornskr’s of Myrkr…but bigger, muscular, bony plates under their skin, exuding a primal fury in the aether that seemed to resonate from a pearl like structure between their eyes…

She knew these creature…as Aethena…

Jarys looked at her oddly,
“I know them…I…before the Collapse the Technocracy took them for Myrkr, experimented on them…changed them…improved them…” she glanced around the forest with the aether as the beasts ripped the shaggy Gormin to bloody pieces.

“All of the creatures here we took from other worlds and remade…to be better…or what we thought was better…”

She could feel Jarys gaze upon her,
“How much do you…remember about…before,”

She sighed, “A lot…but it’s more like…remembering a dream just after you wake up…it’s you but not you who did those things…,”

“hmmm…” he nodded slightly, he clearly felt as uncomfortable as she did, “There aren’t many Gormin left…we need to cull the Vorynx…lets go…”


They prowled silently through the dense foliage, their reflexes, speed and strength let them keep pace with the equally sly pack…the aether constantly shifted as they past Goslam, Gondurs, Gobrils, Snow-feathers, each using the aether to survive in its own way…a kaleidoscope of adaptations to the planet and each other…few Jedi could keep focused in such a shifting tangle of energies and life…and yet this was the essence of what the force was…a part of life….

Jarys held his fist up and she came to a dead stop upon a large branch, he was just below pressed against a fallen mossy trunk.

The pack had stopped…it knew it was being tailed…She looked around but was unused to the terrain…she couldn’t see anything but leaves and trunks…Jarys threw his blunted spear, a yelp, then a roar as the animals rush forth. 

The attack was not just physical, the Vorynx used the aether to pound at them as strongly as any Jedi would…she pushed against the attacks as one leapt up toward her its claws deep in the tree yielding thick black sap.  She swung her spear, but its reflexes were as quick as her own…she had to outthink the creature, she poked up, down, retreated along the branch as its jaws snapped and claws swung at her.   

She was right on the edge of the branch…the Vorynx yellow eyes sizing her up for a meal…the aether roiling forth from the pearl that concentrated it…the pearl…She let the aether open her eyes to the shatter point and she sent precise arcs of energy into it…the beast immediately spasmed, only its claws keeping it upright…she pushed past its pain into its mind…why kill these animals…there was no need…through the unthinking rage to the simmering semi-consciousness of a non-sentient

Calm… it began to shudder
Calm….its mouth closed, its eyes confused…
Calm…Friend…Pack…Family….It stared at her with new understanding…slowly it plodded up to sniff her…

Family…Pack…Calm….she kept it up.  The Vorynx lowered its head turned away and leapt off the branch to the others…

Jarys was sitting in the midst of eight other vorynx…they were all reclined about him.

“Well done…when I was your age…it didn’t do it half as easy….” He said as she leapt down and patted one of the more inquisitive creature’s that followed her,

“They can’t be tamed…” he added…”but they can at least be convinced you’re one of them…” 

She raised an eyebrow at that…there was a distinct undercurrent to what he was saying…

“The Vorynx…the Aethans…or both,”

“Both” he chuckled

She bit her lip as he patted the now perfectly contented Vorynx…so different to the utterly vicious powerhouse he usually seemed….

“I remember other things…I remember my mother…Cilina singing to me,” she said as she cautiously approached him…he seemed far more likely to snap at her than the Vorynx…

“She missed you…she hoped you’d find her and take her home…” he kept his gaze on the Vorynx pup nibbling at his hand, but in the aether she could sense him hurting

“I wish I had…” he said quietly as the wind picked up, causing the Vorynx to turn toward a new scent…a gesture from Jarys kept them docile though…he looked back at her,

“You’re too old to need a father now…and you had a far better one than I would’ve been anyway…”  Jarys had spared Soryu’s life in her honour…he wasn’t the killing machine the galaxy had tried to make him…

He stood up slowly, “You would’ve killed me when we first met you know…if I hadn’t run…” he said, “Somehow this is much more painful…” the Vorynx parted as he moved toward her,

“Whatever Valens did in melding you with…I guess the ancient you…you’re still my daughter...so if not your father,” he looked at the Vorynx who stared inquisitively at them, they could feel the tension in the aether between them,

“I can at least be your pack-mate?”  he held out his arms, but she was stepping into them even before that, she instantly felt his unwavering strength and protectiveness cover her.

Here we are: more than just a glimpse of contemporary Aethans.  Now, while back at home, they probably feel like strangers in a strange land.  Especially with such a complex relationship between Milaea and Jarys. 
But once again I like seeing the reinforcement of "Aethan Only" as it transcends xenophobia.  BUT this also has one hell of a cost...

Quiet scenes like these are a nice transition from the breakneck action seen in the Night of Madness.  But we know that this can only be ephemeral...

I thought it was interesting that they felt compelled to run Milaea through the Rites of Initiation.  There's obviously more to these Rites than pure ritual.  But even if its just that, they're working very hard to bond Milaea to the rest of their remaining culture.

This desire to bring her "into the fold" is very tribal, which describes the Aethans to a "T". 

Another point: they very much feel like they are at war with the rest of the Universe.  I suspect that mind-set - an extended 'cold war' with pretty much the rest of the galaxy - will figure into their "Fate" as well as any ... future interactions, shall we say? 
Oy....

She was dead…

Proof scrolled in white on the holo-blue screen…The Jedi Emergency Broadcast System listed the names of those killed in the Night of Madness detailing in brief bureaucratic tones an incident on Coruscant, ambiguous reference to terrorism and an electrical fault in the Council Chamber….the list of the dead was excessive for that story…she understood why they didn’t want the truth to spread too far.

But back to the main issue…her name…right there…Master Sofa Neirai, listed as deceased in the ‘electrical overload’…

She might as well be dead here as well…

After Valens had knocked her out she had awoken to the Pyromaniac Kiraea pointing a blaster to her head while Milaea was beating Valens to death in the wreck of the Council Chamber…she had no idea what was happening….after that she’d been put under again…

By the Stars she’d spent half her life unconscious….only to awaken with Milaea over her.

“Mili…where…”
“shh…its okay, you’re safe….” She had replied,
“But I have to go…they’ll look after you…I’ll be back soon,” and she was gone.

Reflecting on all this in a utilitarian room, slightly odd design, transpartiseel window overlooking a curve of a planet she couldn’t identify that was covered in odd gases and vast machines…a terraforming project?

The sudden hiss of the door, she braced herself for a fight.

An older man entered the room with a tray of what looked like heated ration packs,
“Here, something edible…its Chiss…but it’s not bad warm…” 

“Are you the good cop or the bad cop?”  she backed into the corner.

“Ha I’m no cop…just here to keep you fed till Milaea comes back…”

“Am I a prisoner?” she asked directly,

“As much as we all are…”

She probed him gently in the force…he was just…normal…

“You’re not one of…them…are you…”

“An Aethan…no…I work for the girls, Kiraea, Adaea and Lyaea…Kiri did a job on me some twenty years back…” he sat on the bed and placed the tray down,

“Been with them ever since…”

“You’re a slave?” she inquired further moving toward the table…it didn’t look appetizing

“Well…Kiri…programmed me to work for her…but to be honest…they saved me…I was washed up…couldn’t even filch a chit…the girls…were lost, had no idea about the galaxy at large…”

As he went on to tell his story, and that of the Aethans she took the seat beside and chewed down three of the ration bars…she could sense he genuinely cared for them…they had given him a purpose, chances he would never have had as a thief and impressive rewards in the form of returned youth and a wife Xandra. 

“So…Do you know what they want to do with me?” 

“They aren’t sure…usually Valens tells them what to do, but with the new Guardian Jarys and this Milaea…I don’t know…I hear you and her are lovers,”

She spat out her nutri-juice

“Whoa…not Milaea…Valens,”

That seemed to shock him,

“Really…strange he never mentioned you…”

“Wait how long have you known him,”

“I doubt anyone knows Valens…but about 15 years,” 

The scale of the double life he had been living…they had been lovers for nearly eighteen years…and she knew nothing about him…she could feel betrayed later,

“So what do you think will happen to me?”

He shrugged,

“I don’t know, I really don’t,” the force told her he wasn’t lying,

“But I’ll give you some advice…first never ever try and lie to them, doesn’t work and annoys Kiraea…actually make that first never ever annoy Kiraea, if you can try to make her laugh, she’s a bit bawdy and blunt.  Second try and be one of the team…they’re a very insular, hate outsiders…but if you talk like you’re one of them they’ll listen, and third…” he thought for a moment,

“Their big thing is survival…can’t blame them for that…if you make them think they’ll survive better with your suggestion they’ll go for it,”

She looked at him surprised, clearly he had some experience in managing this strange society Valens and now Milaea were a part of

“That is…very helpful…”

He smiled warmly,

“I try to be…they’re not bad just…children scared of everyone and everything that isn’t from their little world…looking for safety and lashing out at anyone they think will hurt them….”


Maynard visited every 6 hours on the dot. The door wasn’t locked, but she still felt trapped.  On the second visit he brought a small bouquet of flowers - a species she’d never seen, the scent pleasant if overpowering, tied in a black and white ribbon that was Valens typical style. 

At first she felt abandoned but flicking across the news holo on the datapad she realised some alone time was appropriate.  The true scale of the battle on Coruscant was distressing, she knew Kimar was after Valens who in turn was determined to face him and get Milaea away…he had obviously succeeded – but at what price.

News images showed wanton chaos, Jedi gone mad with rage trying to supress it.  She should try and work out who was right and wrong - the Jedi thing to do.

Sofa was past that.  She had wanted to run away as soon as Milaea was Knighted - old enough to choose her own path…in a roundabout way, dead to the Jedi she now had her wish 

“Don't push too far your dreams are china in your hand…Don't wish too hard, because they may come true…And you can't help them,” she sang to a song now relegated to ‘classics easy listening’

“You don't know what you might have set upon yourself…”

Breathing out heavily she decided she didn’t know and didn’t want to know what had really happened. 

That wasn’t going to be her life anymore.  All being a Jedi, caring about who was right and wrong, had brought her was abuse, stress and restriction. 

As if in response to this decision Milaea appeared at the door. 

“Mili!” she rushed to her open arms.

“You all right? Have everything you need,”

“I’m fine, what’s happening?”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner I had to…People don’t always think about others…”

Milaea went onto explain where they were as they wandered around the station – her species home world being terraformed to repair damage from a long forgotten conflict.

Finally they came to a small lounge area where there was half a dozen of the cutest little animals she had ever seen
“What are Those!”
“Oh…that’s a gobril”
“Gorbrils…”
“No just one,”
Sofa looked intently there were definitely…six…no Seven…no five…
“What…”
“They use illusions to protect themselves from predators…it’s why children chase them - to find a real one to pet.”
Something about the mention of children set her heart racing…she could have children now…plus all the sex she wanted…no more hiding.

“Well…let’s do it!” she leapt after the nearest one which vanished in an instant.

They raced around the room trying to catch the amazingly fast little things, every time she grasped the fur she caught nothing but air.  It didn’t matter - moving around, playing with Milaea did her the world of good.

Finally Milaea managed to grasp the real one under the couch, it didn’t seem bothered by being caught, as if it was playing with them the whole time too. 

“They’re semi domesticated…they know they get fed if they play along,” she explained as the little furry creature nibbled at a curious pink fruit from the table.

“Is that some kind of veiled reference to me?” Sofa asked arching an eyebrow.
“Ha…no…but…” she moved to sit down taking her hands.
“When…when I healed you on Cygrat I did…” her voice was full of guilt
“more than I thought…changed you…you’re not…human anymore…you’ve probably noticed feeling…stronger, looking younger and healthier, hungry…”
Sofa nodded
“I…I’m sorry because it puts you…”
“No no no,” Sofa leaned over to hug her
“You saved my life, you did the right thing Mili, I’m not…I can’t be angry with you for that…”
“But…it means…I know you always wanted children and now you…”
Her stomach sank Milaea didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Now – now Sofa was truly dead – years of hoping, waiting to have a family…she knew it might need some intervention given Valens meta-human genes…but Milaea’s tone was fatal.

“You’re not human but not peo…Aethan either…and…you can’t go back I don’t have a template…you could only go…forward…be remade fully into one of us…”

Her eyes lit up as her mind squirmed in confusion…everything was possible with the force Soryu always said

“Is that possible…”

Milaea nodded

“Our People…long ago had a way to rebuild peoples bodies from the DNA up…to improve them…perfect them…with a template like Kiraea…I know how but…”

“If it means I can have a baby one day…I don’t need to know the ‘buts’”

Milaea shifted uncomfortably “It’s that the others might not approve...and Valens might not want…he…”

“It’s not about him…” She cut Milaea off, “It’s what I want…if I need donor I get a donor instead”

Milaea hadn’t the heart to tell her the limited options in that regard.

“I know…I just don’t want to see you hurt…are you really sure you want this…”

Sofa pulled her in,
“Mili…you’re my family…you always have been always will be…Valens too…but this is about me…”

She felt Milaea’s acceptance flow out like a warm stream.

This was Sofa’s chance to really break with the past…new life, new body -one of her choice this time leaving behind the Orders violence, restrictions and ‘bad or worse’ choices.  Just peace and family.


They were all there…forming a loose circle around the observation decks meeting table except Valens slunk away in the corner looking unusually bitter.

The force a confusing morass of feeling, thoughts and communications…they all seemed to be talking across a dozen group conversations at once each with different emotions…outwardly they were ice statues.

“Well here she is then,” the old man began, 

Milaea stepped over and lead her to her side of the table,

“Sofa wants to be one of us, and I’m going to do it.” She said firmly “I half remade her on Cygrat, it’s unfair to leave her between…and more than that…” Milaea squeezed her hand
“She’s my sister and I love her,”
The others glanced around nervously

“She’s not one of us,” the old man said,

“No but she’s not far…” Jarys added

“She’s from a different culture entirely…” Kiraea sniffed dismissively

“So was I until this week,” Milaea struck back rapidly

“We’re not as wise as the Lady of Wisdom, or have the Womb of the Lady of Life to do this” the old man countered,

“It never stopped out ancestors Melron, they did far more…far worse” Milaea replied sternly

“She wasn’t born of us…” Kiraea added “I can’t agree,”

“We can’t just make anyone one of us…” Jarys noted, his deferential presence at odds with his imposing physique.

“I trust Milaea in this - but it has to be a once off”

By some mechanism of order she couldn’t comprehend all eyes tuned to Valens.  Sofa couldn’t tell if this was a vote or not, she suspected Milaea wanted consensus but would do as she pleased either way.

Kiraea sniggered, “Come on, he’s bias - been plugging into her power coupling for years….”  Kiraea looked directly at her,
“I can see the attraction…nice blue eyes and black hair…hey is the hair on your…”

“KIRAEA!” Milaea shouted slicing off the overly personal inquiry

“Just curious,” she said with a devils grin

Sofa remembered Maynard’s advice…bawdy and blunt….

“Answer’s yes, but I prefer to shave it…” she announced looking over to Valens who remained staring at the floor. She winked so they could all see…

Kiraea laughed, the expressions she earned from the other varied from puzzlement from to chaste smiles….Now that she had their attention…

“Do I get to speak at my own trial or what?...I mean look at us.”
A linguistic trick - if she used ‘us’ it associated her with the group.

“Arguing, divided, few in number…and we’re rejecting a Jedi Master… you’d be lucky to have me to be honest …I could survive on my own better than with a people who turn away such a resource…”

Jarys looked amused, Kiraea was on the verge of bursting out laughing, Melron about to explode in rage….She was on a tight rope…and they knew it

“We can see through the bravado …” laughed Kiraea…“But I like you now, Valens if you don’t want her I’ll have her,”

“KIRAEA! You will not use Sofa like a sex toy!” Milaea yelled sensing something Sofa didn’t

“I’ll share!” she called back,

“No you won’t!” one of the other young women said from the back, Adaea as she recalled,
“Well, she won’t” the woman added blushingly.

“Can we please stop talking about Sofa like she’s an object!”  Milaea seemed exasperated

“Right, so Valens what’s your opinion?”  Melron reasserted control over the situation,

Finally her lover stepped out of the shadows…voice glum as his countenance was dark.

“Sofa …she’s been good Milaea and I…without her…we owe her a great debt…the opportunity to choose for herself.”

Pausing for a moment his words settled into the others…an acceptance flowed over the force, a recognition that Milaea, Jarys Sofa and Valens arguments were the stronger. 

“I’m sorry for everything we’ve put you through.”  He looked downcast and left the room leaving her feeling alone despite Milaea beside her.


She lay back on the cold stone…deep and black it felt like it had a gravity all of its own – the dark hole at the centre of the clinical Chiss designed room.

She’d spent the last two days drinking copious amounts of nutrient fluids with intravenous drips providing proteins of all kinds.

They had all wanted to come and watch – their disagreement and resistance forgotten beneath a curious consensus Sofa had felt very strongly in the force – like a spring returning to a state of rest - as if they couldn’t disagree with each other for long if they wanted to. 

Milaea limited observers to Kiraea, and Valens so Sofa would be more comfortable undressed…NOTHING about her fluid bloated flesh felt comfortable.

“Kiri…” Milaea asked,

Kiraea stood over her and looked her over with leering eyes, “hmm…maybe after you’re done I can take you to…”

“Kiri!” Milaea insisted “Not now…”

Kiraea rolled her eyes and with a swift flick of her finger cut her thumb with her nail, dropping three deep red blobs onto her breasts – she was to be the genetic template from which Milaea worked from.  Sofa marvelled at how quickly Kiraea’s cut closed and healed…would she able to do that?

“Close your eyes,” Milaea said placing a hand on her forehead,

“You’ll be just fine…Valens knows how to fix it if anything goes wrong,”  she wasn’t sure he would still sulking off to the side…in spite of sending her small gifts of ‘Kyla’ fruit and arrangements of their native flowers he hadn’t spoken to her…it was an ambiguous start to Sofa’s new life on the romantic front.

“And where do I fit into this legacy…” she had asked him before Coruscant was set ablaze…if he didn’t have an answer, she wasn’t putting her life on hold for it.  This was her body, her chance, her choice.

She closed her eyes and felt her skin tingle as though coated with static electricity…a sinking feeling, like falling…
falling…
falling…

She lost all touch with her body…floating in a deep black sea…a pair of eyes staring into nothing…but she could…hear… things outside…crackling…voices…

Within the black sea were…hollows…like moulds of statues…some male some female…and one…so large it was…all around her…it…the whole sea was her mould…empty now…yet what had filled it…was this where the ‘Goddess’ Milaea had mentioned had been entombed…

A flicker of red in the sea…two…eyes…looking at her…

Ancient…angry…hungry…coming toward her immaterial form…the voices got louder as the red got closer…this could not be good…

Something else …fast…a grey light - the red eyes turned and followed it as she felt invisible hands wrench her upwards.


Gasping a sticky fluid dripped into her mouth and filled her nose as she flopped to her side, spitting and hocking it up…she felt grubby, sticky…was this how babies felt after being birthed…hands were on her, warm, supportive, Milaea. 

“Are you OK…we’ll get you up and get you some food…” she said, her once white one piece outfit was covered in reddish fluids, as she looked down Sofa saw it covered her too.  Milaea handed her a large flask to drink from…Sofa had never tasted anything as good as that horrid nutrient slurry.

As she came back more fully she looked around the room, Valens was in the corner hunched over, Kiraea bent over him like a mother would over a child who had fallen off a hover board.

“Waaa happ nned,” she slurred out finally,

“It worked…you’re…you’re genetically an Aethan now…”

“Balans…” she tried to pronounce…

“He’ll be fine…” Milaea looked over toward him, “Physically,”

And so now Sofa is COMPLETELY Aethan.  Too bad that even with her addition to the Aethan gene pool isn't enough to mitigate the non-viable diversity in the population...

And it's nice seeing Mili both come in to her own as a leader as well as knowing that she doesn't have ALL of the answers... But what of Sofa and Valens?  I'd like to think that they're not doomed from the start but...well, Valens IS intended for (in fact, PURPOSEFULLY engineered for) the Goddess.

Of course, with Mili being a child of two cultures, we'll have to see which will take dominance...

Interesting....

Dutchman, you're point about viability is telling.  Though with people who can manipulate genes via the force it may not be as big of an issue as you're thinking.   If they can repair the fade and damage from the limited pool they may be able to continue, but they'll always be little more than an extended family. 

That final scene...  I also can't help but wonder just a bit if everything is 100% good with Sofa and her transition....

A philosopher once said that the God’s are dead - and we had killed them…what then must we have become to be worthy of deicide but God’s ourselves?

He didn’t feel much like a God…sitting on a bed, Kiraea hovering protectively as Jarys offered him some more food.

“No one could’ve known Valens,” she said, for all her bluster few were as caring and generous as Kiraea.

That wasn’t true…he should’ve known…should’ve checked…even dead Gods can dream.  Sofa had been put at tremendous risk because he hadn’t made sure…

A ghost…an echo of Aethena still in the altar…something of her personality that hadn’t been transferred to Milaea....likely his unconscious intention when he had resurrected the majority of her years ago…he had left the worst of her behind in that altar…

“You should drink something…you really don’t look good,” Jarys offered again, Kiraea pressed it to his lips as he drank without conscious effort.

When Sofa’s consciousness had plunged into the altar as her body was remade…the remnant saw its chance…just sensed in time he Mind Walked – or Mind Charged in to save her.

The fight had been indescribable…smoke bashing a cloud with gauze fists, the purest untainted lusts and maliciousness a red mist…he had no choice but to completely desolate it…the last vestiges of his sister…his lover…his friend…killed to save Sofa and anyone else who used the altar in the future…

“You did the right thing….” Kiraea said picking up on his thoughts….

“No one else could’ve done it…not even Milaea would’ve known how…”

“She’s right brother…if that echo had gotten loose…”

That echo had been the last of Aethena…yes she had been less than the perfect Goddess she was designed and the people had thought her to be…manipulative…lustful…dangerous…but she was caring, protective, intelligent, loyal…she represented both the best and the worst of the Aethans before the Collapse…

Like his Grandfather had represented the best and the worst after…

He had destroyed both their shades…a petty mortal had slain the last of the Red Goddess, and an errant son had killed his true father.


Hands of mist reached ever further down, the tips of aetheric fingers brushed against the top…if they could reach around to grip and pull it forth…it was just too far away…

Enough….

The soft feminine voice called

No just a little more…just a bit more

Enough… it called more insistently

He had to reach it….

He fell back up the well he was plunged into as her power disconnected….

He shook off the malaise and slammed his trembling fist against the altar. 

“We almost had it!” he yelled,

“No we didn’t,” Milaea replied puffing and sweaty, “We barely brushed the surface…”

He felt her hands on his upper arms in a supportive gesture,

“She’s gone Valens…she’s too far…they both are…”

“No…the fact we can still find them…we have a chance…if Jarys and Kiraea added their power…” he turned toward her as she shook her head.

“Even that wouldn’t be enough…its so far down…we wouldn’t have the strength to pull it forth…and honestly Valens,”  she looked down at the stasis pod on the altar

“There wouldn’t be much left…it wouldn’t be a full person…we have to accept they are gone...” she laid a hand across the pod that housed Shilea’s body… “They’ve been gone for a long time…”

This was the third time they had tried to pull their spectres back into the bodies…first he had tried alone with Shilea, then they had both tried with Cilina and now again with Shilea.  They had repaired the physical bodies to a sufficient level, they just needed their spirits back from the aether…with difficulty they found their distinct essence slowly dissolving into the infinite…if they could just grasp and bring them back up…they could live again.

“You need to let it go Valens…we tried...we learned a lot from trying…I’m glad we did…in the future…we could probably get anyone back if we act fast enough…a month…a year even…but this time…just let them be at peace,” 

His eyes flashed with anger,

“At Peace….”  He echoed, “At Peace…mutilated…tortured…murdered…what peace!  How can your mother be at peace after what that Quarren did to her!” he fumed making it personal

She turned away to look at Cilina’s pod,

“Her pain is over Valens…let that be enough,” she said quietly

“No…it’s not enough…it will never be enough…you…you promised to bring them back…we have the power we just need to find…somewhere the distance is less…there are places I’ve heard of…”

She sighed,

“Valens, Aethena would’ve promised anything to get out of the altar…she knew she couldn’t do it but she knew you believed she could and that was enough….let the dead lie…” 

She grasped his arms turning and pulling him into a hug,

“I’m sorry…but…we’ve done enough…” 

He could smell the crisp alpine scent of the pure waters of Aephrodaea’s Tears in her hair just beneath his nose as she held him…

<Across the blasted ground lay bodies surrounded by fire, in the centre a throne of corpses seeping blood into a black puddle gone grey combined with the ash.

Upon it knelt a God of War and Death, hand gripped on a sabre that pierced down into the pile.>

Milaea pushed out of the embrace, the aether troubled as she left without another word.

He had to find a way.


The Andis cockpit was lit only by the glow of the Navicomputer…he flicked across the screens of planets he had been during his sojourns…

Ithor had a robust life energy over all…but no pools strong enough

Dormuund Kaas and Korriban had power…but too temperamental, too much of a potential stain…

Ziost, Jedha, Yavin IV, Ossus, Tython, Byss, Kesh, Malachor…the Aing Tii,, J’tp’tan, Dathomir…and two dozen more he had visited between missions for the Jedi…He had learnt everything those worlds could teach already…none had what he needed

He was left with the next list…places he hadn’t had time to find…

Ruusan, Sinkhole Station, Rakata Prime, Mortis, Ahch’To, amongst others…some were likely little more than myths…Yoda lead a mission to find Rakata Prime at this very moment…he needed somewhere with a vast pool of raw power in a single place…

Sinkhole reportedly had mind-walkers who could enter the aether itself and commune with the dead…Ruusan according to legend had a Valley of Jedi spirits, their power there for the taking…

He sighed and shut off the screen, the darkness instantly enveloping him…he knew why he was doing this…

Guilt…

He felt guilty that he had been impotent when his entire society had been desolated not once but twice…

Guilty he had not been able to fend off their enemies…He the second of the Aethenaean’s the male pinnacle of their sciences….reduced to a helpless babe at the Collapse, a confused young man at the Devastation as they now termed the genocide and enslavement of their people.

Guilt he had not acted fast enough…not struck hard enough to restore and find the People…wasting his time playing the Jedi and journeying the stars for new techniques and powers.

Guilt that he had seen his wife murdered before his very eyes and taken twenty years to avenge her…deep shame that he had betrayed her with Sofa…

Guilt he had destroyed the remnants of his Grandfather and Aethena…first to unbalance the Jedi for one night the second to save the woman he had cheated on his wife with.

And worst of all…guilt that in his heart he wanted…needed…loved Sofa more than he ever had Shilea.

If he could just find a way…bring even just one of them back to life…perhaps he could be free of this…redeem himself in his own eyes…live up to what he should have been all along…a Guardian of his people instead of a chaotic faux Jedi. 

Milaea…she was the one they needed now…the perfect fusion of Aethan and Jedi Woman and Goddess…the scion of their new age…he had failed them enough…

He would bring Shilea and Cilina back…or join them trying.


Another crate piled into the Chiss Light Freighter, only a two more to go, then a short burst message before he went to hyperspace.  He’d already moved everything over from the Andis…his faithful old ship was too much of a risk…the Jedi knew it and Jarys ship the Vorynx…to use them anymore would put them at necessary risk.

“Going somewhere?” her voice rang in the empty hangar and off the blue tinged barrier that overlooked a grey slice of the orb of his home world.

He moved to lift the next crate, Chiss Expeditionary Defence Force Maintenance Supplies…only to find her leaning on top of it,

“Were you going to leave without telling anyone,” Sofa asked…she looked…amazing…eyes wide sparkling blue, creamy skin, lustrous dark hair that stirred memoires of running his hands through it…as young and vibrant as when …when he had wrenched her memoires from her…he couldn’t figure how she had known he was down here.

“Maybe we’re connected?” she offered as an answer to his curiosity rapidly picking up some of their telepathic abilities. 

She pushed off the crate to let him lift it,

“Maybe if you’re with someone for that long you get a second sense about when they’re in trouble…and maybe I don’t like that you’re leaving in the middle of the night…maybe I don’t like that you’re not talking to me,” 
She leaned forward accusingly “Maybe I just wish you’d frelling look at me!”

He plonked the crate in place and lowered his head…he couldn’t…he just couldn’t…the guilt and shame kept his eyes down. 

“So is this it, not a word…after everything not a word?”

He grabbed the last crate and hauled it up,

“Mili told me…told me what you’d been trying to do…” she called as he started moving,

“I’m sorry it didn’t work…but she’s right you need to let it go Valens…you’re going to tear yourself apart.” 

He put the last one down, tightened strap and headed to the cockpit.  A sudden bang behind him, he turned to see a heavy case dumped on the floor,

“I’m coming with you,” Sofa said “whether you like it or not,”

LSG, I love this chapter.  Valens is by far one of the most complex characters in these stories, and seeing how he's driven by his own guilt and fear of further loss is inspiring.  As powerful as these folk are, they are still in the most basic and important ways human, and therefore flawed. 

Waking them up to it and teaching them the most important lessons of all - human compassion - may be one of the greatest challenges of the Universe...

Meanwhile, Sofa is fully transformed and we now see Valen's quest.  Hopefully it is not a fools errand....

Karm brought up an excellent point: for as powerful as the Aethans are (and their propensity towards xenophobia) they still are people of passion, emotions, love, and loss.  Who amongst us can't at least relate to those?  Especially a loss of inextricable value that hope had buoyed for so long...only to have it snatched away.  Wow...

And the self-realization from Valens that his feelings for Sofa are so much more than mere list or a biological imperative... And the attendant guilt of such.  I wonder just what Valens will find with Sofa...and if once he's found it if he'll be better or worse for it.

THAT is pathos.  VERY powerful chapter.  This is as much a departure from LotA as Legacy was from Children, and each better than the previous.

Had he not been on Coruscant, felt how the force bent like a reed under the hands of giants, he would not have believed it.

Had any lesser Jedi than the one before him brought this to him, he would not have believed it.

The ceramic clinks of cutlery in Dutch and Karm’s Bistro brought him from his malaise after watching the footage on a discreet visor – and into a galaxy he no longer recognised.

“This is…”

The Jedi Master nodded, it was beyond words,
“The Order did not wish anyone to see this…but as a Jedi I could not suppress the Truth.”

If Jorl’Taf and the Vhal’Dan he represented respected Master Soryu before, they all but idolized his strength of character now, to go against the Order to warn them of the – things – that had destroyed Kimar was gesture that would see him lauded for generations amongst the Gray orders…and reviled by the Order is they found out.

“I must leave…” Soryu noted quietly, Jorl’Taf nodded as the Jedi Master swept away with firm quick strides.

Jorl’Taf sat a long while in the bistro, the data disc repellent on the table.  He knew he had to inform Arbiter Anson D’Aklon immediately…yet already this knowledge had caused a rift between Soryu and the Order.

What Schisms would the truth cause amongst the Vhal’Dan?


“Do you think it’s random,” he purred in its auditory sensors

“Pointless sadism…a power trip perhaps,” he gently glided the blade along the Herglics chest slicing a thin line through the yellow blubber beneath, the last of over two dozen slices in its flesh.

“Pain…despair…horror…are food,” he strode away toward the control panel

“Strong emotions coalesce, deepen and firm, into delicious morsels…that can be fed upon by those that know how…or…”

He pressed the retraction button and the Herglic floundered hung upside down by the feet as he was as the floor retracted to reveal the muddy brown pool beneath.  Squeals and shrieks called out as the Ziost wyrm larvae within sensed their next meal,

“…don’t know how to feed on anything else…Now…”

The fear boiled off the creature…after so much pain and despair it was the final ingredient to complete the larvae’s force development…now it was time for them to find a warm fleshy home to pupate in.

“It’s time to meet the children of your pain,”

As he splashed in the gritty water Turkans wounds stung…yet this was nothing compared to the feeling of something crawling into his body through them.


There was little to be found in the girl Milaea’s room…he had found the location on the directory, it wasn’t cordoned off as he expected…normal security protocol abandoned to the aftershock.

It showed signs of having recently been rebuilt…and not used frequently…a few small trinkets, two changes of robes, some soaps… 

Master Neirai’s room was beside it…somehow this Sith girl had manipulated a Jedi Master for years.  He hadn’t known Sofa Neirai well, she had a reputation as a bit of a tralk…always off making out with someone…it was sad to think that gossip was all he could remember of her, but he knew Soryu had thought the world of her.

Here he found more of interest…four bottles of expensive perfumes beneath the bed with love letters and pressed flowers from “V”…Valens…it had to be…such manipulation sickened Jo…

Her wardrobe contained underwear and skirts appropriate for a strip club…perhaps her reputation as a slut wasn’t just gossip…a carnal minded Jedi would be easy prey for a Sith.

In the bathroom a small box hidden behind a tile…contraceptives, creams…everything a Jedi having an affair would hide…he could see it now…Valens seduces and then blackmails Neirai, using Kimars strict rule to keep her silent afraid of being punished herself…

Still nothing of real help…he leaned against the bathroom wall…in the corner of his eye a little red light flickered on a small bin indicating it needed to be emptied when the cleaning droid came around…no stone unturned he emptied the contents on the bed. 

The usual, soap packaging, shampoo bottle, make up wipes…and…a women’s sanitary pad…her blood…

It was of no use to him but…it was said there were ways to track someone through the force with their blood…she was listed as likely deceased…missing…if he could find her…


Keys tapped, datapads swapped hands, and overseers leaned over the desks of their workers as reports flooded in.  The Operations centre was filled with the quiet hum of conversations tight and clear as the blue holo screens.
 
There was purpose and direction to the Force once more, a common goal bringing the Order together – The Jedi no longer a beaten down vornskr whimpering under Kimars lash, toppling to Valens depravities, but a focused Order of Guardians seeking Peace for the Republic and Justice for its citizens.
 
In the centre of the room, an open central dais that encouraged moving freely about it rather than stratifying ranks, Master Nben Tnbu took in all but the furthest conversations with his wide Sullustan ears. 

Like the Carriers he used to command in younger days he kept a tight ship, and open thorough fares ensured communication and conversation flowed where and when it was needed.
 
“Master,” nodded Sentinel Hummu “Latest reports out of Socorro, Knight Yshen followed up on the Mandolorian Craft, belongs to Clan Hed,”
 
Tnbu offered a low nod, they were following up on dozens of leads on Mandolorian Assault craft, seeking out the Vorynx and the Andis – he strongly doubted Valens the Traitor or Jarys Bane of Jedi would use their compromised ships.  Nonetheless there was always a chance.
 
“Have Yshen return to Coruscant for assignment on the Ardent,” he replied, Acting-Grand Master Yoda was assembling a substantial force of Sentinels, one on Coruscant another on Dantooine, to strike against the Traitor as soon as he was found.
 
Tnbu’s black glassy eyes peered over to the South side, a dozen rows of senior padawans sorting through facial recognition data from across the galaxy, pre-filtered through matching programs. 
 
They would have gone to ground, Tnbu expected this, but the moment one of them reared their villainous head – the Order would be ready to exact Justice for Coruscant, their brethren slain in this very Temple – and the Republic.


Ord Mirit was covered in old stores and warehouses, a logistics planet, ferrying vast amounts of food and other goods from the Colonies and core to Coruscant, from here he could control Coruscant without being on Coruscant…with virtually every union and transport company in his pocket he could cut off trade to the capital at any moment he chose…but typically he just took the fat off every shipment that came through the planet and ensured the Spice, Death sticks and sex slaves flowed.

One old warehouse beneath the surface he had converted to a meditation chamber…the vast empty floor littered with thousands of flimsi printouts the data infocyte Phoris had given him, bank statements, identity cards, holo-picts, traffic records…he needed physical copies…

He sat in black seat at one end of the cavernous space beside a bowl filled with the Herglics blood and a dirty cream pyramidal container…

He let the dark side suffuse him as he opened the pyramid, a high pitched screech from the mucus coated interior as the Ziost Wyrm energised from feeding on the Herglic leapt.  Lucovis caught it with the speed of darkness.   

The mucus covered worm thrashed as he threw into his mouth, biting and scratching tongue and cheek with its mandibles as he fought to swallow it whole…his saliva dissolving the Herglics fear off its skin and into his soul.

Darkness rose like smoke around him, he breathed it in as his stomach acids digested the wyrm…shaking as its poisons entered his blood stream…its concentrated emotional energies enhancing his power.

He opened his eyes to a black forest…each piece of flimsi exuded a black tree of smoke…he waded like a drunkard looking for those few with wispy grey…finding one he grasped at the insubstantial cloud and dragged it toward the next he saw…how long he was in this trance like state could vary…usually a few hours…sometimes days….the grey mists connected the blackened trees…a path of meaning and connection.

Finally he returned to his body, still twitching as the spasms died.

Awakened he looked upon his work…a trail of the Herglics blood created a pattern between the pieces of flimsi, he summoned the most drenched to his hands,

Knight Valens…a Master Sofa Neirai… the accounts for the Indigenous Peoples Habitat Reclamation Charity – a transaction circled in blood for an apartment purchase….

This he would forward to Vectivus…this time his connections were needed.



Progress had been better than expected, morale was recovering across the Temple as the strike teams were prepared and intelligence gathering stepped up.

Yet it was tentative, there were rumours circulating that Yoda’s arrival a week after the Night of Madness and Kimars murder was all too convenient, the Chancellor was demanding daily updates on the search - Yoda knew if they did not get results soon all the preparation, all the build-up would not be seen as renewal, but waste.

As Tnbu’s briefing continued he felt Valens trail growing colder.  The few leads they chased had all come to nought, mistaken identity and over enthusiastic pursuits of tenuous coincidences.  Without success efforts to restore pride and focus would come to nothing.

“….No further reports of any ships matching the descriptions, nor facial matches, the pickup on Nar Shadda and Ando turned out to be a false positive, similar facial structure but distinct Cybernetics on the hindbrain…some kind of body guard called ‘Surge’” Tnbu explained

“The bounty,” Yoda inquired regarding the 10 million credits on Valens and Milaea, that could be a significant complication, but Yoda was confident they would find them before the bounty hunters.

“No confirmation on who placed it, it is underwritten by a Black Sun affiliated Shadow Bank…investigations are ongoing,”

<The deep core sensors> High Sentinel Yshrrk growled in Shyriiwook tones of distant thunder

“Nothing matching the ships they use, mining ships, automated transports, companies that have been around for decades, the only thing unusual are sightings of ships matching outlines we have of Chiss designs”

They knew Valens home world was in the deep core, but Valens had been thorough in deleting all records the Jedi had, not just on the Night of Madness but Yoda suspected for years leading up to it.

He leaned forward,

“Chiss…unusual that is,” still he doubted there was any link.

“Indeed Grand Master,” the Sullustan drew his datapad, Tnbu was dedicated to the Order as an organisation, he had served Kimar very well, but his loyalty was not personal and Yoda did not want to add to the destabilisation by removing him from his position. 

“So much so I took it upon myself to have an analyst compile all Chiss sightings over the last few years, most are scattered around the edge of Republic space as one would expect, but there have been some dotted about within Republic space, light freighters mostly.”

Something about that tugged at Yoda’s mind more than it probably should, yet he had ignored his gut instinct once too often of late.

“Recent sightings in the Republic have there been?”

“A few around Myrkr of late,”

Myrkr…known for its force sensitive flora and fauna…not the kind of place the Chiss would usually have an interest in – although to make any assumptions about Chiss motivations was folly.

“Keep me appraised of any developments,” he nodded Tnbu’s dismissal

Alone with the High Sentinel

“Status of the strike force,”

<Coruscant Force is prepared, Sentinel Oma reports Dantooine is three days from readiness.>

The blade was sharpened and ready for war, Yoda hoped they found the enemy it had been forged to defeat before it rusted.


“Master” Vectivus quiet voice addressed

“Apprentice, what news,”

“I have completed my investigation, from the transactions analysed I can discern the following,” 

“I’m listening,” Xithar lay back, his head resting on his Sephi’s stomach as the holo-comm sat between her breasts.

“A single entity is, through various shell companies, extracting vast amounts of credits from financial institutions via inflating their transaction fees, subsequently purchasing shares in the same in institutions.  With the profits it has purchased numerous deep space cargo facilities, ships and terraforming infrastructure as well as raw materials, mining and industrial equipment.”

Xithrs eyes narrowed…how did this relate to the Knights Valens and Milaea

“Further I have cross referenced transactions to docking logs at various star ports, deducting time for filing papers and launch time one ship has a 75% correlation coefficient…named the Deft Player owned by the Indigenous Peoples Habitat Reclamation Charity which also owns the Coruscant apartment with two directors Andis Lyssiason and one Myzm Auferbish”

“Myzm Auferbish!” Xithar looked up, Vectivus looked uncertain

“Go on Apprentice…it’s simply a fake name…a Mon Calamari insult for a…soft male…odd to be paired with the name of the late Myzm…”

“I have details and a predicted route for the Deft Player based on its last citing in the Outer rim…the only reason I contact you directly is you are in a better position to intercept if you move immediately,”

Xithar thought for a moment…this was quickly becoming far more than just two force prodigies battling it out on Coruscant,

“Well done apprentice, continue your meditations on this matter, your insight is valued as always,”

Vectivus nodded and disconnected, leaving the small map of the ship in questions likely route.

“Hmmm…you haven’t been to my Nimban estate yet have you darling…” he purred to the Sephi, unfortunately she seemed too distracted by the Ziost Wyrm hanging just out of reach above her eyes - feeding on her terror - to reply.

And the moves begin...   All I can say is wow.   I love the details, the varied locations.  This feels soooo 'Star Wars' in these varied places and peoples.  The more I read Xithar the creepier he becomes.  His addiction to the Wyrms, how he feeds them...  *shudder*  This guy is just EVIL, and that's exactly what you'd expect from a true Sith.  Great story telling! 

His odd force walking under the influence of the wyrm was also very interesting.  Its almost like a form of Sith magic, again very appropriate, but the description was quite amazing to read and somehow plausible enough for me as a reader to jump right in and plow ahead without much question.

Jo'Set tossing Malia and Sofa's rooms was also very interesting.  Ironic that Sofa and the apartment that she and Valens used for their affair ends up being a key component in tracking them for both Jo'Set and the Sith.

The potential here is just amazing!  This is a worthy companion to the other members of this trilogy and I just can't help but wish that we had the resources to make a movie!  We'd be RICH!!!!!! LOL  (Casting Mark Wahlberg as Jo'Set was also a nice touch!)

And ....   Dutch and Karm's Bistro appears again!  Best Nerf Burger in the galaxy!  ;-)

There are SO many things that Karm stashed that I agree with!  From the excellent characterization to the extensive details (seriously LSG, is there ANY SW work that you don't know?!) to the easter eggs, this is shaping up to being my favorite Aethan story yet!

You've taken the established Sith sorcery and given it a delicious macabre mechanism.  Indeed, now we see that the torture is much more than just a means of itself.  Brilliant!  And now we also see that for all of their precautions the Aethans can still fall prey to the Galaxy's greatest evil: the paper trail. 
Which reminds me: seeing Yoda so proactive is a nice development.  Is it because of these actions or despite them that Yoda changes to the persons we know from the movies?  Either way: wonderful characterization!

And now I want a nerf burger with some Corellian 18  :)

 
The Temple was returning to life, for the Acting Grand Master that meant a morning slogging through nearly three dozen briefings and four meetings.  It rankled him to deal with bureaucracy while Valens was still loose in the galaxy…His former apprentice…

His own damn apprentice. 

He scowled as he strode along the hall way, passing still down cast Jedi.  How could he betray him like that, how could a student he had trained turn into such a murderous zealot!

He paused in his stride to take a deep breath…anger…anger would lead to hate…and that could only lead to more suffering.  Whether it had been his training, Kimars influence or something intrinsic about Valens…he would soon find out.

This next meeting was a long time coming…it would be hard…but it had to be done. He paused at the door taking a deep breath…he was Grand Master now…if not out of fraternity…then the authority would get him results…he hoped it didn’t come to that.

It was time.

The door slid open to Soryu’s room, his old friend who looked disturbingly younger since the Aethans healing, sat crossed legged on the floor, Yoda was expected. 

Yoda sat as the door hissed closed to shut out the Temple.

“Valens,” Yoda said,

Soryu closed his eyes head bowed in sorrow, yet still a titanium core to his presence, conviction and calm Yoda had not sensed in the council meeting Soryu had all but stormed out of.

“I knew Kimar was sending him on dangerous missions…but I never thought…no…” he paused

“I didn’t want to believe he was using Valens as an assassin - I focused on Milaea…truly believing she was our future. I was wilfully blind and I own that”

Yoda could feel the depth of the guilt but also strength of will, Soryu had obviously already deeply considered his own failure - Yoda remained impassive

“I thought Valens sojourns, the new techniques he would teach me were, wonderful, impressive…it was like the happier days when the Mak’Tor were with us. I didn’t ask how he was learning these things or why…”

Yoda maintained his gaze, stifling any anger he felt as best he could,

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about this Yoda - I was a fool, I thought their connection to the Living force a thing of beauty a truer way to live, in harmony with the galaxy…I saw in them what I wanted them to be not what they were…”

“And Kimar,” Yoda spoke

Soryu looked up at him with a convicting gaze,

“We both stand guilty for allowing that to go on as long as it did,”

Yoda was taken aback, he rarely saw his friend so condemning…yet Yoda could not disagree. He had volunteered for the expedition to Rakata Prime…in all honesty… to get away from the Temple…to clear his head…he had run from the problem and used the pursuit of knowledge as an excuse…for that he felt a deep shame.

“Sofa and Milaea? Of them what did you know?”

Soryu sighed, Yoda had long known Soryu held more than a Masters interest in the pair, but he saw no harm in that till now.

“I knew about Sofa and Valens…”

“And you did nothing,” Yoda struck quickly,

“I only wanted to see her happy…Valens gave her what the Order could not…she was never made for a life of celibacy and service…we all know affairs happen…but…”

He paused, Yoda could feel him on the brink of saying something he had never said out loud, a tension held for years about to be released

“Sofa is a daughter to me, Milaea too, and as her father I could never put her in harm’s way by revealing to Kimar what was happening, and I stand by that, I won’t recant…if that means being expelled from the Order, then I accept that…I love the Jedi…I believe in what the Jedi can become, in serving the Living Force…but I love those girls more.”

His eyes were stained with the first dew of tears

Yoda sighed in sympathy…here was a man truly stuck - unable to reconcile his dedication to the Order with his affection for his apprentice…his love of knowledge and the living force with the realities of Valens perversion…his hope for the future unity of Order with the dogmatism of Kimars rule…

But this had happened before, when the Mak’tor were exiled Soryu had faced a similar struggle of conscience…now Yoda saw how that event had scarred and coloured his actions ever since.   

“Our lives our circular, we face the same battles and make the same choices” Valens words from his knighting ceremony echoed in Yoda’s mind

“And Milaea,”  Yoda added sternly, it was all a show, inside he was breaking for his friend, but he was Grand Master now and had to remain above such things…such attachment was too dangerous.

“She should’ve been everything we want to be – and we failed her – confused her into the path of violence”

He hung his head, silence echoed in the room for a number of minutes, finally Soryu raised his eyes.

“Perhaps…perhaps something of her past…a legacy of her peoples suffering has called her away…”

“To where do you think she, or Valens will go?” 
“I don’t know…I truly don’t…”

That annoyed Yoda, surely he had some idea where they would go - and every day the trail grew colder and colder and the Chancellors complaints louder and louder.

“Something mentioned in passing perhaps…an intention or desire?”

“Hapes…Sofa had only been twice but loved it…if she’s alive…Milaea I don’t know…Valens…” Soryus eyes widened, he had recalled something,

Yoda shook his head at the poor lie, “Soryu, help anyone your silence does not,”

Soryu looked him dead in the eye “Yes it does…you want go after him…but not for justice”

“Allowed to roam free Valens must not be, where!” Yoda said firmly,

“You’re just as angry as I am conflicted Yoda,” Soryu said clearly, Yoda felt him brushing him in the force,

“You feel betrayed by your apprentice, enraged at what he’s done…and guilty you weren’t here to stop it.”

Yoda scowled,

“Correct you are…but my emotion regulate I can…this search sanctioned by the Senate and the Law is, the need to see justice done and unwind fear - Where!”

He could sense Soryu’s conflict…his wish to protect Yoda from what he thought a dark path, to avoid more losses to the Aethans…against this the knowledge that Valens was a danger and a desire to rescue Sofa and Milaea from him.

“A Jedi should always speak Truth...” Soryu said quietly,

“Myrkr”

“He mentioned he wanted to investigate the force sensitive flora and fauna on Myrkr,” 



He punched in the co-ordinates to Myrkr and pushed the toggle forward.  Arxis, the pack leader of the Vorynx he and Milaea had tamed poked his head up to watch the stars lengthen from pinpoints to streaks then dissolve into each other as they entered hyperspace. Unimpressed the Vorynx yawned and curled back up beside the pilot’s seat.

“Away we go!” Kiraea chimed from the co-pilots chair, her bare feet a stark contrast to the Chiss grey of the console as she played with his daggers.  Her lounging about and complete lack of any concepts of personal property, space or decorum was…refreshing…truer to how they had lived before the Devastation.

He was excited to be heading to Myrkr to assist in picking up new force sensitive species for their home world…A Time to Live.

“You killed two Jedi Masters with these alone…” Kiraea interrupted
“I haven’t fought a Jedi…well I fought Milaea and spar with Valens but I don’t think that counts…I wonder if I’ll ever get to…”

He looked across with concern,

“I don’t think going out looking for a fight with a Jedi is a good idea…”

“Why not, can’t be that tough…plus it’d be cool having a collection of lightsabre trophies…”

He shook his head…whilst he, Valens and Yorna were of an age Kiraea was four years younger when the Devastation happened, it seemed she still had a lot of growing up to do even now…

“I do not!” she said in faux offence, “I’m a grown woman you know,”

“Physically at least…” her tendency to stroll around Central Station wearing just her overly expensive yet insubstantial bra and panties left no doubt as to that…

She scrunched her nose at him, “Come on you’ve been in hundreds more fights than I have, you can hardly judge me for wanting a bit of life and death excitement,”

“I didn’t fight because I wanted to…” he recalled the brutal introduction to the galaxy he had in the fighting pits of Nar Shadda, “Only because I had to,”

“You still enjoyed it,” 

He couldn’t argue with that…a dozen hormonal systems in concert made them enjoy fighting, fearless and unyielding…yet even so there were limits.

“Maybe because I wasn’t given a chance to enjoy anything else,” he countered
That quietened her for a while.

“Do you still miss her…Cilina,” she said out of nowhere,

Jarys felt a familiar stab in his chest, seeing Milaea had reminded him all too much of Cilina, that he hadn’t been there when she needed him most – and that he never could be.

“Sometimes…we weren’t together for long….I miss the chances we never had…the things we never did…” he replied honestly while absently checking the estimated time of arrival, he didn’t avoid the thoughts but dwelling on that pain too much was not good for him.

“I miss all the things I’d like to have done with Yorna…to show her…all the sights on the different planets, the funny aliens…” her tone saddened,

“She was nicer, smarter, stronger than me…she should’ve survived instead of me…” 

Yorna had been the most mature…the responsible older sister to Kiraea, helping her climb trees, letting her win games, making sure she didn’t lose her shoes…but then…

“You looked after Adaea and Lyaea…built a home and a life for them…Yorna was a wonderful girl, but you don’t need to compare yourself to her, or me, or anyone else…You’re just as amazing as well Kiraea,” he looked over to her, she had curled up on the chair downcast,

“Thanks…” she said quietly as he wondered why she was telling him all this…but then he supposed she didn’t have anyone else really to open up to…He slid out of his chair,

“Hey come here,” he headed over to draw her into an embrace,

“Sorry…I…”

“It’s okay, you should talk more…you don’t always have to be exploding with rage or making dirty jokes, everyone know you’re more than that…Melron trusts you to look after Adaea and Lyaea, Valens trusts you to manage the Terraforming and deal with the Chiss and let you plan the attack on Coruscant…even Milaea trusted you to help Sofa,” he rubbed her back as she buried her head in his shoulder.

“You’re fine as you are Kiraea…well all need you just as you are…”



With all Adaea’s modifications crowding inside, the Chiss ship was cramped - single bed cabin, minimal refresher, impeccably organised by full storage areas - yet somehow Valens never to be in the same room as her…never passed her going to or from anywhere…she was convinced he could cloak or teleport.

They’d been dropping in and out of hyperspace for days…the last few hours had been constant jumps of less than an hour at time, rattling and bumping.  She had no idea where they were going…

The ship suddenly jolted out of hyperspace again and the bed she sat on twirling a disruptor pistol bounced…the most action that she had seen in a bed for weeks she sneered…

She wanted to be there for him…she knew he was struggling, yet this wasn’t how she wanted to start her new Aethan life new life – she didn’t want to have to share the man she wanted with memories…
 
BANG!

Lost in her thoughts a jolt caught her off guard, head hitting the thick wall behind her. 

“Right that’s it!” she screamed marching to the cockpit where Valens seemed extremely busy navigating between what looked like two black holes swirling with the dying light of a dark blue nova between them,

She flopped into the navigators chair just behind him,

“You want to know something!” she leaned toward him and said loudly,

He just kept on hitting buttons and checking figures,

“Well I’m going to tell you anyway!”

The ship jolted again and slid unnervingly to the swirling lights that rimmed the singularity on the right as Valens struggled to correct it.

“After I was in a coma for the first time…you know after you pulled my memories out of my head….I spent months…months in pain during rehab…I could barely sleep…my legs, my arms hated being still and hated moving even more…”

She could feel herself start to tear up, but tried to push past it,

“And then there was the fact I had missed my Trials…I was put back a whole year because of it…Soryu helped me…but he was often away back then…I felt abandoned…alone in pain…”

She hadn’t planned to say this and it didn’t really follow where she had been heading, but she didn’t care about getting her story straight right now, she just wanted to be HEARD.

“And you know what they used to call me…Six-Credit-Sofa…cause everyone knew I’d make out with anyone for six credits…I was easy…cheap…all I wanted was someone to show me some affection and I was branded a slut.”

Her head dropped as she remembered how it all felt…and still did

“When I couldn’t sleep for the pain…I’d sit naked on the floor and press my sabre between my breasts…against my heart…just thinking how easy it would be to make it all go away…” now her tears came,

“Just one button…but I couldn’t even do that…a hundred times I’d sit there and I just couldn’t do it…I was a coward…I couldn’t face my life and I couldn’t end it either…”

The ship shuddered as it found a slightly safe spot between the gravity wells.

“But then I met someone new…someone who wasn’t like the other Jedi…wasn’t a stuck up know it all, didn’t treat me like a good time girl…guess who that was?” she kicked the back of his chair in frustration,

He was still focused on keeping them from being ripped apart by the cosmic forces about them…but in the force…the aether she could sense he was paying her a lot of attention.

“You think about that,” she added as she went back to the cabin.



“People Don’t Meditate” Kiraea had said amidst their other…activities…in the sacred caverns of Aephrodaea behind the waterfall.

“Why would you sit there just thinking, when you’ve got two good hands, the aether and the Goddesses most wonderful creation between your legs?”

Milaea had turned red as the ultra-dense Bloodstone the cavern was carved from.

“Just look at yourself, so beautiful I’m almost jealous! I can’t believe you do anything else!”

Still Milaea found some meditation useful and the small visions since – returning? - home were troubling…

By siding with the People despite what they had done on Coruscant, she had hoped she averted their becoming the Oblivion Army running rampant across the galaxy.  Influencing them away from that path was the only way she could justify her choice to that part of her still infused with Jedi morality,

But Always in Motion is the future.

Something dark and violent teased her peripheral vision pushing toward the same outcome by different means.  She’d had visions as long as she could remember, mostly of being Aethena, but ever since she had fully accepted that part of herself they had faded into occasional dreams.   

Shifting into a more open position on the Gormin wool blanket the rush of Aephordaea’s Tears waterfall outside provided a soothing background noise.  As a sacred space for women she was undressed, despite the alpine climate the cavern was warm, heated by small aetheric fires that tinged the Blood Red Stone a fleshy purple. 

Milaea had to admit she found meditation too cerebral, the reason now was obvious.  For the Aethan women connecting spirit mind and body required actions very inappropriate for a Jedi mediation classroom – Kiraea might not call it mediation but her sacred Rites had very similar results with a deep sense of contentment, presence in the current moment, expanded awareness and deepened connection to the Living force….she idly wondered what Soryu would make of such carnal methodologies.

Using a slow strokes of one of the many Rites Kiraea had shown her, her blood flow increased, pheromones wafting slowly to her nose.  The increase in hormonal activity altered her brain chemistry making the meditation more…fertile…euphoric feelings reduced cognitive barriers and increased lateral thinking.

Connecting the thread of the sapphire crystalline shards of recent visions she followed them with closed eyes to an obsidian whorl of pain, loss…the Devastation…its jagged black shaded to bruised purple across every fractionally variant path in the lattice of potential futures…the Past could not be denied.

Near on the path was a splintering of glassy moments – painful topaz but not holding the same hopeless despair – something they could react to…

But how they reacted…Violence…death…ruby sheens of blood grew as stalactites from each edge upon ALL clustered coloured paths forward…unavoidable…some less bloody than others…only progressing along the path did it recede.

Twists in the geometry of the crystal lattice past this point were too complex too numerous - yet everything they did was magnified in the convex diamond glare of the future - their genetic, cognitive and aetheric superiority projected explosively onto monolithic edifices of fracturing quartz unrealized realities –like mercury it rippled out vast waves that spun knife fragments of ruby, each in turn yielding untold billions smaller shocks.

Brow furrowing as her hands worked faster she used the mounting pressure of her body to push down the metaphysical haze of the largest, most likely futures. 

Red…dark…but not the Red of the Goddess…a Master of Red who twisted blood and bone - not as the People did…darker more selfish…working from oily shadows to corrupt.

Emerald, aflame almost white slowly turning sickly and dark consumed by emotions he should be able to deny at his age – his hubris became blindness.

Between them…the People in Midnight clad – both protagonist and puppet…so lost, pained -failure, guilt, inadequacy, hatred steeled their oblivion swords as they struck feelings outwards  Others tried to manipulate their wrath for their own gain only for it to recoil and shatter them to chinks of sandy glass.

Three continental plates grinding against each other another – The sickly red, haunted green and light trapping black, lesser islands ground to dust between them before…

Golden red crashed and fell through the centre, an angel brought to earth with a sickening thud, through the cracks to reveal the shadow in the aether beneath – an emptiness not made of Oblivion Stone but punished flesh.

Her body reached its peak, eyes reopened a cavern lit red by energy arcing off her skin, sinking deep into the aether absorbent blood-stone. 

With a cry she fell back into the rug, skin at once numb and over sensitive as her breasts heaved up and down - neither wiser nor consoled – only burdened by the futures she wished she hadn’t seen. 

“Third!” he called twisting out of a sabre lock, the Chagrian Hummu disengaged with a defensive roll as Lasat Sentinel Rwh’an took his place with a swift opening blow, to his left Sentinels D’Alyaa and Twi’lek Sintat pulled back replaced by Knight Karmin and Sentinel Arnora. 

As soon as the word Myrkr pass Soryu’s lips he had known.

Immediately he launched the Coruscant Strike force, three combat modified Consular Class Cruisers, housing eighteen Delta-2 Jedi Star Fighters and the Strike team of 12 Sentinels and 12 Knights and Masters. 

The three Jedi entered into a sustained assault against him - leaping and spinning, his sabre a shield of green and white against their blades.  Yoda pushed his speed to the limit – it would leave him exhausted, but was essential to the new tactics.

Force blasts and mental attacks sprayed against him as Karmin tried to lock his sabre, Arnora strafed behind - meeting Karmins blade off a high parry to Rwh’ans downward strike a stray blast from the combat to his right knocked him into their combined reach – pressing against Karmins blade Yoda released his sabre - dropped low, pivoted into a force blast against Arnora, dodged Karmins counter blast and only just parried Rwh’an mid-slash. – Good – any lesser opponent would’ve been beaten – but still not good enough.

“Fourth!” Yoda called - his opponents made strong defensive retreats, replaced once again by Sintat, Hummu and D’Alyaa.

Valens used his natural speed and strength to push opponents to draw on the force to the point of exhaustion – for Yoda it took about 8 minutes, an average knight less than two – tag teaming would counter this. 

He kept low to the ground against their lopsided formation, two left, one to his right, a second later the flurry of sabres ionized the air. 

To his right Yshrrrk fended off three of his Sentinels while three masters hammered him with force blasts.  Batting a Sabre staff away with a dismissive parry and pivoting into a sweeping kick knocking the Kel Dor Baran Tha to the ground, the Wookie Sentinel sidestepped Soryu’s half-hearted low sweep.

After Soryu’s confession of his paternal relationship…it was horrible…but a Grand Master could not afford to show unwavering trust toward anyone…Yoda had to consider he might betray the Order. On that basis Yoda determined to keep him close by.     

“Fifth” Yoda called and they switched again, while not completely refreshed, for experienced Jedi even half a minute was enough to restore stamina with healing flows. As Rwh’an, Karmin and Arnora moved back into the fight with strong offensive stances and solid force defences, Yoda felt a little of his fear at losing more Jedi to Valens subside.

This time they would be prepared.



She slowly rubbed in the familiar relaxing rhythm to relax…it usually helped…but this was a problem that couldn’t be solved with a simple Rite…

Kiraea hated being uncertain…she couldn’t shake the feeling she had given Jarys the wrong impression… by showing her vulnerability did he consider comforting her the act of consoling a younger sister instead of supporting a future lover?

Still once they reached Myrkr…she would talk to him, he was so excited about finding new plants and animals…making a new life – together.

He was a strong, smart and handsome man, she had always had a bit of crush on him when they were young…she ran her fingers under her nose and licked them…checking the balance of hormones in her pheromones…as she suspected 5.74% higher than average level of cortisol …it would make them slightly bitter instead of balancing the sweetness…

Heart beating faster she measured her internal sensations carefully – the Rites were far more than just pleasure – she needed to ensure every part of her reproductive system was functional and well maintained – that required regular practice. 

They needed babies - lots of babies - to repopulate – the Clones would provide the bulk but they would need children through normal means soon enough, Kiraea had taken it upon herself as the only Female Guardian to ensure she knew everything possible to help ensure they got the babies they needed…and that meant having lots of babies herself just like she’d always wanted…

“When I’m grown up I won’t make my babies wear shoes if they don’t want to!” she had squealed as Yorna chased her to put them back on.

Yorna…here Kiraea was planning to capture a mate, have babies…all things Yorna could never do.  She would’ve been a better mother, everything Kiraea had said was true, her sister was better than her…

The sadness threw her off her rhythm frustrating the build-up of sensation…it was a minor annoyance…a delay in in her pleasure…such a simple pleasure…

A pleasure Yorna would never have again.

It should’ve been me who died…


She regretted it as soon as she left the cockpit – she shouldn’t have yelled at him.

“You’re a disgusting pervert I’d rather kill myself that have you touch me ever AGAIN!” she’d screamed into his face all those years ago.

An hour later she was in his arms “Don’t leave me, don’t ever leave me…”

Half an hour later she lashed out again “Get AWAY it’s over I never want to see you!”

Giving her testimony to the Commission on Child Abuse had reawakened the words whispered into her ear – she was worthless, dirty, a liar – believing it again she turned on him while Soryu took Milaea to Dantooine. 

She hated herself - so pushed him away from her vileness.  But he never gave up…for weeks he’d sit outside the apartment as she alternated between hurling abuse and demanding affection – always patient and quiet as she hurt them both.

Now he was hurting…she shouldn’t have yelled at him – it was just too frustrating - this wasn’t how her new life should begin…even if she knew all too well how quickly old wounds could re-open. 


Hands trembling as he punched in the next set of co-ordinates to jump between two voids that sunk as deep as his stomach had just dropped.

He felt utterly sick at what was happening…he didn’t want to hurt Sofa, to disappoint her – he wanted so desperately to just go to Hapes or Alderran with her, help her adjust, start a new life. 

The same feeling he had on Coruscant…Kimar stood in his way then – his own failing barred the path now.

Either way he chose he could not win - he failed Sofa by neglecting her and refusing her desires in his quest.  He failed Cilina and Shilea if he wasted another moment in which they vanished into the aether.  In both cases it heaped more failure on having lead them both on for years. 

“Hey…” she came back in as he tried to focus on keeping the ship from being ripped apart.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you…it’s just…” her frustration was his failure.  He couldn’t decide what to do, how to handle anything – it was so much easier dealing with Outsiders, Chiss, technical or strategic issues there was no ambivalence…but with People…his indecision tore him in different directions…

“I just didn’t think this would be how we start off – I want to help you, but you need to talk to me,”

He couldn’t do it…he had to do this…he thought…thought so hard in circles ending up in the same impossible place…seeing Shilea cut down before his eyes…seeing Cilina tortured to death…it was all his fault.

Sofa’s resentment rebuilt rapidly, “You’re making this really hard you know…I don’t want to regret choosing this new life a week into it!”

He was trying to learn…just like Yoda taught…from his failures…but they just kept repeating on him.  The more he tried to correct them the worse they got…

He had to grab his right wrist with his left hand to steady it enough to press the handle for the next jump forward…His guilt bloating larger as it fed off itself.



Hushed whispers and fear permeated the Ardent’s common room.

“I heard he ripped Knight J’Shinna’s heart out with his bare hands…just shoved in right through her fur and pulled,”

“No it was her own sabre, he made it teleport inside her body and switched it on, did the same thing to Kimar I saw a few frames,”

“That’s why they won’t let anyone see the security footage of any of it…they think if we see it we’ll all abandon the Order. “

Yoda stopped at the open door frowning and marched in,

“Rumours you speak,” he surveyed the four knights huddled round the dejarik table,

“And rumours all they are. No truth…Valens invincible may believe he is,” he gave each one a hard look, it troubled him that gossip and fear was being spread between Jedi Knights…

“But a man only I know him to be,”

The boldest of the group, Chagrian Hummu spoke up, “Then why not just show everyone the security footage Master? It would dispel all the rumours”

He shook his head, “No matter the evidence released, believe it rumour mongers will not, tampered they will say, a cover up…only by bringing to trial Valens and his agents can truth be assured,” 

Hummu bowed slightly…his suspicions were correct, Yoda had destroyed the footage because of the fear it would generate if more Jedi saw it, and the boldness it would bring to their enemies when - not if – it was leaked.  The incredulity everyone felt as rumours magnified to myths was preferable to the brutal reality…

If only by the slimmest possible margin.

His steps to his bunk were weighed by introspection…these were not truth affirming actions…the justification of limiting damage was poor consolation.

The room was small, grotty with the humid stink of old bedding - the cruisers had been taken from dry dock and rapidly refitted over two weeks, Valens would not recognise them as Jedi ships.

He stared out into the twirl of hyperpspace - Valens was out there…somewhere.

Hummu had touched a raw nerve…whatever he thought he knew of Valens was only a fraction of the whole…Yoda had seen techniques and powers on those vid’s  unknown I him.  How many other abilities, how much power could Valens wield that Yoda knew nothing of?

He was afraid.

Afraid he was not strong enough, that despite being nearly 300 years old he was not knowledgeable enough. 

This was an enemy that defied understanding, the ruthlessness of Sith without selfish malice, brutal efficiency of a bounty hunter without venality, precision of an assassin without a single target.

Afraid that he had trained a man who could destroy the Jedi on a whim…who could destroy him. 

And most of all afraid that some part of his teachings had made Valens what he was.

Yoda had to know, he had to find out what had turned him – Yoda needed to know if he was in part responsible for the monster Valens had become.

Yet for all this he feared - truly feared - the Truth he would find.

Another awesome entry.  :-)  The Kiraea - Jarys and Sofa-Valens matchups are amazing studies in interpersonal relationships.  Two very different relationships with motivations almost in direct opposition to each other.  I am greatly intrigued.

And Milaea's quest to guide her people away from being Universal Overlords is interesting as well.  There's more Jedi in her than I think anyone realizes. 

And Yoda...

I find it interesting how many of these characters - Yoda, Sofa, Valens, Jarys, Milaea, Soryu - are driven by their guilt and failures.  We all fail.  But the guilt...  That becomes a roadblock. 

How each of them overcomes that roadblock - avoid, dismantle, destroy, change course - will be very interesting indeed...

And ... golden-red?  Hmmm.....

A chapter full of the expected AND unexpected: from Sofa and Valens' inner problems and relationship dynamic to Kiraea and Jarys' obvious AND surprising imperative.  And contextually it makes PERFECT sense...at least logically.  And I know that the Aethans are a "bred" society but...no one can completely shut out (or off, as proven by Valens) their feelings.  Speaking of...

Valens' self-castigation and the vicious circle that has created his inward spiral makes for AWESOME tragedy; worse as it also involves Sofa... And for all of his power, he seems ill-equipped to deal with the conflicting ramifications of his choices...and what is expected from him.

And seeing this softer side of Kiraea!  VERY engrossing...this is the kind of characterization that the Sequel Trilogy fails to establish.  I really, REALLY would like to learn more about how she's dealing with the "new normal."  Make that: ALL of the Aethans  ;)

But the one that I feel most for is Soryu; he's lost almost EVERYTHING: his surrogate daughter(s), his faith in the Order, even questioning his past (lack of) conviction.  I would LOVE to read more from his POV.

As always: the younger Yoda POVs are a study in development.  This is a Yoda VERY much aware of how much he's messed up, either by omission, inaction, or simple compliance.  THIS should be canon for the Yoda we see in the movies because it TRULY gives the character a depth that goes beyond "wise old mentor."  Sigh...so many possibilities... Disney should call and get you (hell, ALL of us) to write the next Saga...

Thanks Guys, really wanted to get in deep with the characters during down time....
And yeah Yoda was a focus, he is too often just the 'Wise old Mentor' as Dutchman noted, I wanted to look at where that came from and how he got there with a focus on a certain line from The Last Jedi....

“What the frell is that thing…”  Sofa said leaning on the back, he caught her reflection in the transparisteel, hair tied back only wearing her one piece slip.

It had taken six days of painfully slow travel to get there…but there it was…he could feel the energies…the dead within it…

“Is that like Centrepoint Station?” she asked referring to hyperspace tractor beam device that likely pulled the worlds of the Corellian system together in ancient times.

It looked similar, but this was older, smaller, rusted and dented amongst the black holes of the Maw.

“Sinkhole Station…” Valens answered.



Even for Nar Shadda this place was sordid…oily metal walls, rusted catwalks…strange fetishes of small animal and sentient skulls hanging from dried intestinal cords…what else could be expected from a Night Sister exiled from Dathomir for being too perverse.

He had contemplated going to Dathomir itself…but for buying services discreetly Nar Shadda was a safer bet.  It had taken only a few hours on the local holo-net to find exactly what he needed.

Passing through a screen of beads into the main room he was transported to a pre-space flight age room decked out like a caverns hearth, huge bubbling pot that stank of vitae in the centre surrounded by actual fire torches and dangling obscenities marked with disturbing runes.

“Welcome maleling…” the shade behind the cauldron greeted,

“A token?”  she asked in silken tones,

He threw a credit chit of 100 across the room…a sign of respect.

It vanished into black replaced by a pale human face,

“And what is it you wish to buy…curses to boil your enemies blood…potions to stoke a lover’s desire…”

He produced the medi-plas bag with the blood stained pad inside. 

“I need someone found,”

She smiled hideously,

“That is different…usually its blood on a fist or sheet brought by a jilted lover”

He wasn’t interested in her opinions,

“Can you do it or not,”

“Pass it here,”

He stepped forward only now noticing two burly Zabrack Guards, one took it, quickly inspected it, then passed it on.

The witch opened it and sniffed…

“A few weeks old…difficult…but not impossible…”

“Name your price,” he said sternly,

“hmmm….this will cost more than credits Gray…”  he supressed his shock at being identified,

“Oh yes…I can see what you are…your stance, your walk tells me you are Jedi…but your presence here…” she gestured to her surrounds,

“Tells me you are not a dogmatist,”

“How much…” he repeated,

“Very well two things…first 15,000 credits,” that was pricey…he could afford it…just…

“And second,” she stood and walked over to the slightly larger of the two chattel, stroking his hulking muscles,

“Call me old fashioned…but I prefer my own kind…and it’s not often I come across a male with the arts,” she cast an odd glance at him…

“Let alone one so strong….” Jo didn’t like where this was going…

“Defeat my chattel to prove yourself worthy and then…give me a child, and I’ll find this lady of yours…down to the system at least…..”

She leant over the cauldron as he chewed on his response…he looked over the two brutes…difficult but not impossible…and the rest…she was about his own age it seemed…it was just biological material…just a physical act…not different from donating blood….or so logic parried emotion.

“Decide quickly Gray…that blood you brought won’t stay viable for much longer…and my own time is coming soon…”

He closed his eyes…for you Ha’Ona…

“Let’s get this over with,”



Dr. Tawrryn - her truncated name - was head of Chiss Xenobiology Field Research for the Chiss Expeditionary Defence Force, currently stationed on Myrkr following Valens advice some eight months earlier. 

The Dark haired Chiss woman had a stern look, but lively intelligent eyes.

“I usually deal with Valens…but you’ll do,” she said by way of introduction,

“I have sufficient samples already en-route for the majority of species we agreed to, however we will require your…” she turned away from the holomap to regard Jarys and Kiraea,

“Talents…to acquire the rest,” the essence of their alliance was men and materiel for credits and intelligence and dealing with ‘unusual’ threats to the Chiss - but there was also strong research link, Valens provided them with details on where to look for unique flora, fauna and minerals as well as porotypes and designs from Republic military firms.

“Alright what are we after,” Jarys chimed in pre-empting Kiraea…feeling her disdain for the Chiss he pushed a firm ‘let me do the talking’ mingled with a softer ‘it’s not you, its them I don’t trust’ feeling.

“Vornskrs mainly, some Gyvar Yruts and Scera Hawks here this will give you the nav points where our satellite trackers last picked up large concentrations, for a stable population we’ll need 30 Vornskr females, 10 males, 35 Scera Hawk females, 40 males, and at least 8 Yrut herds.”

Jarys mouth twitched into a smile as he looked over the details of the animals physical statistics and typical behaviours…how Yruts used the aether to climb mountains, Scera hawks pinned prey telekinetically…with the Technocracies Memory Orbs and the Blackstone genetic conversion they could enhance them even more –perfect Aethas ecosystem – so much to learn -  a Time to Live.

“Oh is that all,” Kiraea sarcastically commented,

“Yes, we shipped out ninety Oblio Trees and seven Ysalamiri flocks yesterday,” Tawrryn replied either ignoring or not understanding Kiraea’s mockery.

“We’ll get it done,” Jarys said as Arxis and his pack trotted up behind him in response to his silent aetheric summons, Tawrryn typical Chiss didn’t show any visible panic at the eight teeth baring creatures that had just entered her research tent, but flooded anxiety in the aether.

“I brought the best trackers I could find.” He smiled glancing to Kiraea.



The hangar was filled with a variety of ships form all eras, some covered in tarps, most simply sitting covered in dust.

“We really shouldn’t be here…this place…it’s just not right…” Sofa commented as he opened a crate…inside was an oblivion black jagged square of Black-stone…the ultra-dense mineral the Altar was made of…capable of holding tremendous amounts of aetheric energy…or a soul….

“What is that for,” she asked not even looking around to see it, she was gradually adapting to her new Aethan level perception…he lifted it gently up…

“pfft be that way,”  she cut off realising we wasn’t going to answer as he used the aether to cover the Chiss ship in a layer of dust to make it looks as old as all the others.

They trailed through mouldy rusted corridors of alien design toward the fulcrum of the aetheric energy…up an elevator to the main control room…there were no guards, no locks…not barriers…the Maw was itself barrier enough, requiring precise aetheric senses and a genius for piloting to find this speck in a sea of black holes. Few Jedi Masters would manage…he suddenly thought of Odjina…no lesser aether user than he could find this place.

The abandoned ships showed many people came…but few left. The main control room was replete with abandoned pieces of kit - helmets, nutrient packs…other devices whose function even he couldn’t guess.

“Frell me sideways…what is this place the bloody Centre of Galactic Weirdness?” Sofa exclaimed as she looked through the control rooms view port to the centre of the station…

The main chamber was a huge roughly circular area, edged by catwalks and gantries, surrounding a deep blue light that made an odd wispy sphere in the centre, around which floated…bodies…perhaps three dozen…a few species he had never even seen in the most obscure texts of the Jedi archives…

He reached out to sense them…all dead…starved and emaciated…mummified rather than decomposed…one an insectoid like creature had a flicker of fading animation…That could be him.

Sofa suddenly grabbed his arms, “What the frell are we doing here Valens, blow your bloody sulking out your exhaust port and tell me!” she said frantically…

Free of Jedi proprietary she was freer with her emotions now – just a woman not a Jedi Master even if still unhappy.

He gazed into her blue eyes feeling the draw she had on him…he liked her this way, free, open…to be honest he liked her every way…but he had to try…he glanced back at the floating corpses…

“Looking for Shilea,” he said simply.

One on one it would’ve been easy enough…but both of the brutes at once in the dust and oil choked air of what could only be charitably called a store room was more challenging.

The Witch sat on a crate scrawled with graffiti in a dialect of Aureabesh almost a hundred years old that indicated a good time could be had by calling “Bobo the Bith’ - All tastes catered for”. 

The hulking Zabracks flexed their muscles to impress their mistress taking up position to his left and right.

“Well what are you waiting for?” she called and they pounced. 

Left went low, Right went high, he dodged backwards letting the force flow through to his limbs Left pressed forward and Right circled.

First contact - his forearm blocked a heavy right jab, pivoting into the opening to land his left elbow on the brutes other arm as it shielded it’s face.  Swiftly pivoting down into a low kick the Zabrack shifted and shin hit bone searing the thin skin on his leg with burning pain.

Rising as Right came in from behind the fight was truly on.  Meaty slaps and bony knocks rebounded off the dank metal walls as he ducked and wove between the pair, they had a touch of the force about them, not enough to overwhelm, just enough to prove a nuisance and take the edge off his advantage. 

Having to fight basically naked but for his underwear left his skin bruised and purpling as a spiralling elbow smacked into his left pectoral – in response Jo hammered a palm into a rock like shoulder.

He took another blow to the ribs, returned a knee to the gut, grabbed from behind by Right he kicked out into Left chests, broke the lock and stamped onto Rights foot, the heavy impact on the grated floor cut into the foot eliciting the first pained grunt as he drove his elbow back into the Zabrack then leapt forward. 

Left was just recovering as he came upon him - Jo wrapped his arm around the creatures neck, Left grasping at his arm as the blood and air was cut, Right recovering but limping on his bleeding foot as Left began to slip into unconsciousness. 

Now it was time to end this, he threw the limp Left forward into Right then charged shoulder first, a meaty slap kicked droplets of sweat off all three bodies as his shoulder hit the already pummelled back, pushing with the force he rammed the pair straight into the indifferent steel wall with a bone cracking thud.

“Enough,” the witch called as the Zabracks slumped down coughing blood,

“You’ve proven yourself…against fairly poor competition it must be said…but you’ll do,”

They paced slowly through the Oblio, Billaam, and Mabari trees, the air humid and steaming in the dawn light as dew not captured by scurrying insects began to evaporate only to be trapped beneath the thick foliage creating a grey fog.

The Vorynx were twenty metres around them in a loose circle while Jarys led the way though the ever shifting aether - pockets of null zones created by ysalimiri, areas of frenetic aetheric white noise where termites communicated across the trees they were hollowing from the inside out, and the subtle hum of shrubs making ‘deals’ in the aether to share the sun light that pierced the canopy.   

She plodded through the thick undergrowth, slowed by her pack filled with animal stun collars, and uncertainty. It was rare for her to be unwilling to speak her mind directly, especially to People…but today she was worried.

Jarys pushed through a thin gap between Oblio, his grey utilities staining with moss and sweat from the three day hike, armour would be too constricting, and taking a speeder would frighten off animals they were trying to capture.

 As he came out the gap she just blurted it out.
“I like you”
 He kept on going
“Great I like you too”

She scowled, couldn’t he feel her intent…a quick glance at the aether nullifying reptilian ysalimiri reminded her that here he couldn’t…perhaps it was better that she say it plainly it rather than aetherically.

“No I mean…I want to strip off your armour pin you to the ground and ride you till you pass out Like you….” was that too explicit? Or not explicit enough?

At that he paused,

“I thought you liked girls?” he said not turning to look at her, rather checking his surroundings.

“I can like both.” She replied

“True enough…” that was an empty a response

“So”

“So what?”

“So…do you want to have sex with me every few days?” she stated bluntly

“Won’t Ada and Lya get jealous?” he slowly turned toward her as the Vorynx slowed into a defensive pattern.

“No…that’s not how the Rites of Aphrodaea work.”  She couldn’t blame him for not knowing, only Aethan women were taught the Arts and practiced the Rites, a response to the gender imbalance that plagued the People.   

He slowly turned and paced toward her, keeping his posture deferential.

“That is…part of why I wanted just to two of us to come here”

“So yes?” excitedly licking her lips, blood flow increasing in anticipation…it could be exciting, here in the middle of the jungle…

He stepped up before her and held her arms gently,

“Yes.  This is a time for us to live, to enjoy our life, to create…and be our true selves,”

His excitement, his hope was so strong, almost carrying her away…after years of War he was finally returning home…she shifted forward but he pulled back.

“We should…spend some time together first before…much has changed…we have changed…and don’t you need to wait for the Right Moon?”

She sighed as her blood flow ebbed back, it made sense, even if it didn’t get her the quick gratification she wanted…perhaps that was just the kind of thinking she needed.

“Fine, how about as soon as we’re done here?” she replied forcefully demanding a time frame – she wouldn’t delay any more than necessary, they needed babies and she…needed to prove her worth through her fertility, be a good mother – the mother Yorna should’ve but could never be…if she had survived instead of…

Kiraea had to do something to make it – no - it would never be right….

He smiled softly seeing her melancholy but not sensing its true source in the ysalamiri null bubble

“Let’s not rush -” he glanced up to the wispy sky, he hadn’t been so cautious as a teenager…that alone told her he was right to suggest they reconnect first.

She nodded as the ysalamiri passed by, flexing her hand to create miniature Yruts, vornskr and Scera hawks in aetheric fire, pushing out the budding guilt over Yorna with the flames – bad things happened if People felt guilty.

“Alright then….so do you want to get the Vornskrs, the Yruts or the hawks?”
The witch wasn’t unattractive, gaunt with the upper edges of her pelvis just visible under pallid skin…not getting as much to eat as she needed.  She sat over him painting her queer symbols in a thick brown syrup on his chest. 

He stared up at the ceiling orange with rust, focusing only on the physical requirement of what he was doing, he could worry about the moral implications later…even just feeling his basest desires it was hard to muster the energy needed.  He glanced at her breasts and tried to imagine doing this in a more comfortable situation with a more desirable person…it wasn’t much but it was enough. 

She lowered herself onto him and moved with slow, dutiful precision.  He kept his eyes on her torso, her face would only make him feel sick, and mind purely on the physical sensations…the pain of his bruises form the fight…pleasure was there…but empty…mechanical…perhaps this was how it felt for prostitutes.

It was over soon enough, she slid off and quietly chanted some Dathomiri invocation of fertility whilst rubbing herself all over with the brown syrup.  He just stared into space mind as empty as possible contemplating the rust stains.

After a time she got up and went to the workbench where their clothes lay and rifled through his jacket. 

“Switch that on,” she pointed to an old chipped datapad. 

He obliged as she sat on the side of the bed opening the medi-bag that held the blood stained pad.  She took the datapad as he sat up, flicking across to an interactive galactic map, then stared straight at him.

“Hold this in front of my left hand, that will point to where she is on this map, hold my right side down…it might react oddly.” 

He positioned himself just behind her holding the datapad out in front, pressing his other hand on her right shoulder.  She breathed deeply then licked the blood stain, once, twice…three, four, five times.  She fell back into him - he was glad he wasn’t in front of her fearing what the expression on her face as her breathing became ragged.

A strange liquid wormed in the force about him, a trail of sorts flowing away, thin, but distinct….Her left hand flicked on the screen pointing here then there, from the core to the deep core then further….

“yeehhhhhhh”  she droned, right arm shaking. 

“SORYU” she blurted as her left fingers twitched to zoom in on a region of space,

“CHEAP…SLUT” her tremors were getting much stronger, the rickety bed squeaked in contrast to its silence as they’d had sex.

“SABRE…NAKED….ALONE….YOU THINK ABOUT THAT” her finger trembled on a black patch between systems…he knew that region of space but had never been…few had - fewer still returned…

This was not good.

She seized up suddenly and fell back unconscious.

“Frell,” He lifted her onto the bed, “Can I get some help in here!” he yelled, The two bruised Zabracks rushed in and attended to her with a mangy looking water bottle as he held the datapad. 

He glanced over her prone, naked, dirty malnourished form as a dagger of sickening guilt twisted in his stomach - whatever had driven her from Dathomir…surely she didn’t deserve a life like this…After what they had just done together he felt he should look after her a while at least…he had no doubts the witch had conceived…she was too adept not to have timed it perfectly…what kind of life would the child have?

No - he couldn’t let the trail get any colder, it wasn’t his child, it was hers, he just supplied some constituent parts in a commercial transaction…for Ho’li, Odjina …this was for them, whatever it took he would see their killers punished…he had come this far.

Still his stomach remained sunken. 

“You have what you need,” Left said flatly,

“Yes,” he replied equally lifelessly,

“Then go, we can attend to our Mistress”

He went to drop the datapad but paused…he took it over to his pants and pulled out his credit chit, slid it into the slot and transferred an extra 5000 credits to her…her convulsions were dying down…it was worth more than 15,000 credits to suffer that aftereffect…if he had more he would’ve given it. 

As he finished pulling on his clothing the datapad beeped, he glanced reflexively…pausing when he saw the headline of the auto-alert…

[BOUNTIES – 0600 – SEARCH PARAMETER > 500 000 CREDITS
>>>RESULTS
>NEW Posting>>
>>>Target(s)
>>Valens – Male – Human – 1.8M 85K Est.
>>Milaea – Female – Human – 1.75M 70K Est.
>Hiring Party  :Anonymous
>Instructions: Wanted Alive.  WARNING – JEDI HIGHLY DANGEROUS.  Deliver to Iathar Palace Nar Shadda.
>Payment:  10,000,000 Per Target Plus Expenses Up to 1,000,000.  Bonus 2,000,000 if both delivered.  Bonus 1,500,000 if delivered within 2 Core Standard Weeks from Issue.]]]

“Frell,” he whispered as he left.



Sofa pouted sitting on top of what might be a fork-lift at the base of the main chamber.  He didn’t know how long it would take, so he set up intravenous drips to ensure he didn’t become too emaciated…though he doubted Sofa would let it go that far.

The annoyance she was emanating rivalled the strange energy of the aetheric vergence he was planning to enter…she knew she couldn’t stop him…but that didn’t mean she had to approve.  He glanced over at her and she quickly looked away. 

He just didn’t know what to do with her…he firmed his grip on the black-stone…he had to try to bring Shiela back…yet how could he abandon Sofa…he had to redeem himself…try to undo just a piece of the damage he’d caused.

“Redeem!” Sofa called out, voice echoing off the struts in the vast chamber. 

“Redeem from what,” she leapt down and stormed over,

“No one is asking you to prove anything Valens…the opposite…look at what you’ve done…you’ve started rebuilding your world,”

After letting it be destroyed twice

“You’ve brought your people back together,”

After letting them be enslaved and killed

“Crippled the only possible enemy who could match you,”

After wasting twenty years working for the Jedi

“And started rebuilding the population”

After letting them fall below a sustainable level…

She placed a hand on his cheek,

“You don’t need to redeem yourself…you’ve already proven yourself to your…our…people…it’s all in your head,”

Shilea, lying broken searing blade through her breast wasn’t in his head, Cilina dead and tortured…

Sofa shook her head…she was getting better at picking up his thoughts…not quite reading them directly.

“I know why you’re doing this…I know you’re hurting but…Promise me something…if this doesn’t work…that will be the end of it…” she leaned forward to kiss his other cheek,

“Come back to me…”

She knew he couldn’t make that promise…he looked down, then up to the floating bodies…it was time.

Wow...    As always I am impressed by the character development and I love the juxtaposition of the three "couples".   Jo'Set is probably more stubborn than most Macks, but he's in deep even for a Mack...   

What strikes me is how driven by guilt the Aethans are.  Valens has taken the guilt of his people's failures onto his own shoulders, guilt that is not his in any way.  Also his quest to save his wife has eerie echoes of Anakin's attempt to save Padme'.  Or rather, I guess this would be a foreshadowing, as its 560 years prior...   And Kiraea is also driven by her guilt, her need to be the mother her own mother never had the change to be, the need to do her part to create life rather than just end or exploit it.

And Jo'Set...  His hatred and rage are fueled by his guilt at not being able to protect Ho'Li and Ha'Ona. 

So much guilt....    And like matter and anti-matter the players are headed for immolation....

I have to admit ... this:

"...there were no guards, no locks…not barriers…the Maw was itself barrier enough, requiring precise aetheric senses and a genius for piloting to find this speck in a sea of black holes. Few Jedi Masters would manage…he suddenly thought of Odjina…no lesser aether user than he could find this place."

...feel like a hint...   ;-)

Jo'set certainly is a man on a mission.  I mean...that Dathomir witch must have twisted his arm mighty hard  ;)  Of course, I'm not sure that I would want to have to brawl with two Zabraks in their prime so there is that...

I really like the glimpse of character introspections that we're getting for Kiraea, Jarys, Valens, and Sofa.  So much of what they are IS genetic imperative BUT the constituent parts of what makes them "who they are" is as similar as any human's.  On that point...

Karm, I kind of like what you said inasfar as "foreshadowing" Anakin.  And, yes, while it isn't canon, here is another example of WHY these stories SHOULD be.  Aside from the xenophobia, seeing the Aethans like this is why we're so invested in them.

Heh.  I wonder what the Aethans would say if they knew just how much alike Jo'set is to them.  Eh, probably chalk it up to another "Outsider" with clarity or some such.

>>[In Pursuit of Sith – The Maw]<<

Was the entirety of the message to M’Tzigon.

Four-Eight was burning through energy computing navigational routes through the labyrinth of black holes…

Jo was burning through his force stamina straining to use a ‘tracing’ motif Odjina had taught him, picking up the tendrils of the signature song of his prey in the force through the twists of the Maw’s jump points. 

Even though the trail was fresh his head throbbed at the strain, the only consolation was he had a good chance of catching up as Valens or Neirai had done the bulk of the work plotting a course through the gantry wells for him.

But where it was headed…a shadow in the force…at the centre of the voids.

Across four days he napped during jumps, none lasting more than a few hours.  Pausing only twice semi-stable regions to give the hyper-drive a break and once over.

Keeping busy and on task didn’t remove the nagging guilt of what he had done on Nar Shadda - the churn of hyperspace outside the viewport added to the malaise.

Four-Eight beeped at the course he was plotting,

“I know it’s getting more dangerous…but we’ve come this far and if that’s where this Master Neirai is…she’s not on holiday…either one or both of the targets are likely with her” 

A sad subdued booping,

“Doesn’t matter how I found out where to go…now stop asking that must be the millionth time!”

Another long draw out series of solemn beeps

“Fine the 83rd time in four days…still too many…I’ll think about that after this is over…I…I can’t think about it now,”

He swallowed the bile back down, felt his sabre at his side and stared straight into the pit of black before him.

If the Sith wanted to hide somewhere this was the perfect place…no sane person would try and travel through here…

He only just realised what that made him….


Her fingers found purchase on the next jutting rock as she made her way up the cliff.  She was more used to scaling buildings, factory intake towers, whilst acquiring things for the reconstruction, climbing something natural took her back to her childhood…days with Karintha and Yorna climbing the South Western Mountains near their home, the cool of the snow flecked air from the peaks…

Looking over the dense green the canopy dotted with strange flowers that bloomed over 30 metres high to scatter pollen to the atmosphere…yellows, blues and rich pinks…such colour and life…another beautiful view Yorna would never see…

Perhaps it was some of the pollen, perhaps something deeper but she sniffled returning to her task tracking Scera Hawks.  The plan was simple, stun the beast, put on a stun collar, pile them up then call in an aerial pick up. By moving in on foot they avoided the scattering that would inevitably occur when wild animals were exposed to the unusual rumble of engines. .

A handful of loose rocks dislodged beneath her feet as she pushed up to the top of the cliff.  Only a few dozen metres across it was one of a score of odd rocky towers across this region, mottled green as creepers spread their roots up the cliff faces offering some extra hand holds.

A smattering of Scera Hawk nests dotted each cliff top, they were large birds when fully grown, a metre wing span for the males, slightly smaller for the females, with green mottled feathers on top for camouflaging by covering themselves, and a sky blue under plumage to avoid being seen from below.  Yet it was their hunting method - using the aether to pin smaller birds and animals from up to two hundred metres that made them attractive.

She was in luck, the nest had a few eggs, but they were no use without adults to rear them. Setting the stun traps in the dry twig and bile bound nest she felt excited - the more unique animals they could integrate back home the better. 

Kiraea had always found the stories Valens told them of the Jedi so funny, how they peered and poked around ruins for ancient knowledge and powers, studied and devised new techniques in their Temples and enclaves – foolish.

It was in the jungles, plains and seas, amidst the never ending war that was Natural Selection that the most powerful and unique abilities were developed, not by old men in musty rooms bent over parchment.  The ingenuity of life out did all their pontifications – some like the one named Soryu and Yoda looked - but not as deeply as they should. 

It was from the Goslam, the perfected version of Ysalamiri, Guardians learned how to create null fields, blood tracking from Kreleaches, illusions from gobrils…once the Scera Hawks were genetically perfected into ‘SnowHawks’ they would learn long range aetheric stasis from their new avian companions. 

Kiraea had loved chasing gobrils as a child, learning by play how to track and sense with the aether and her physical senses, feeling the squelch of mud between her toes when she ‘lost’ her shoes…she always ‘lost’ her shoes…and Yorna always made her a new pair…Yorna loved their animals even more than she did…

Determined to get even more than the target as tribute to Yorna she flipped from pillar to pillar setting traps before the adults retuned at twilight before setting up the Chiss homing beacon which would ping the location once the traps started triggering – all neat and easy. 

Jarys was keen on this project – always saying how this was a ‘time to live’…hopefully it would impress him too, show some maternal qualities of task focus and organisation.

Reaching out to find him in the aether her mind spanned across verdant jungle…until…something that didn’t belong…moving fast…intent, purpose…planning, strategy…no wildlife had that level of focus over primal instincts…Someone was headed this way.

Clamping her aetheric presence down her options were few…three days from the Chiss camp – no chance to run. A black shadow flying too straight for a bird in the distance…too exposed on the cliff top she flipped down and began descending the rock face into the jungles, traversing the roots and crags as her senses brushed the intruders…seven beings…strong…

Very Strong

Only one group could be this strong in the aether…

She might finally get a chance to fight a Jedi.


Soryu knew why he was here…

Yoda didn’t trust him.

Didn’t trust him enough to leave him at the Temple, and he didn’t trust him enough to take on the mission…of two bad options Yoda chose to keep Soryu close.

So now he was on Myrkr hunting Milaea and Valens…hoping he wouldn’t find them.  Before the first squads deployed Yoda had given a stirring speech about the pursuit of ‘justice’, the reality of ‘sacrifice’ to achieve it, the need to ensure the ‘law seen to be done was’. 

Soryu was past all such self-deception, this had nothing to do with Justice and everything to do with Yoda’s need to feel vindicated and get back at Valens.  The tragedy was it had official sanction and popular support amongst the Jedi, the only thing they would reap was more death. 

A sudden cold drop of rain struck his hairless head through the jungle canopy, he looked up into the shield of leaves above, marvelling how a drop could get through.

A low rumbling growl from Yshrrk up ahead,

<Rain…increase pace> it translated roughly from what little Shyriiwook Soryu knew.

They were on the trail of the second of two people that had visited Dr. Tawrryn a few days before.  Yoda had pointed fiercely at their map in her small tent on the edge of the jungles,

“Their location provide me,” he demanded, using the force without any preamble to force the Chiss Doctors compliance,

“Yoda!” he had called in warning,

“Silence,” Yoda had snapped back as the glassy red eyed Chiss had pointed where she had sent them. 

He shook his head in sorrow…at all that had happened…and all that was yet to happen.

Yoda was not facing the truth, he was chasing his fears.

Yoda had never been so defeated and betrayed by another Jedi, and instead of introspection he was externalising – Soryu could do nothing – under a cloud of suspicion from Jarys healing and his opposition to sequestering Kimars files. 

It was not unfounded, he had betrayed the Order already by giving files to Li Mack and the Vhal’dan Jorl’Taf…

He felt no regret – by serving the Truth he acted as Jedi…this entire mission was emblematic of the growing difference between the Jedi and the Order – a Jedi did not care for victory or defeat – Life was their goal, and learning a facilitator. But the Order sought Victory, and that required another’s Defeat.

Pushing through another cluster of branches, large triangular ones to his left, oil coated round ones on his right that slicked his armour, animals he could only hear by rustling scurried away.

Yshrrk lead this team, Yoda the other…in a way Soryu was glad he wouldn’t be there if Yoda were to find Valens…but if Yshrrk did...

What would Soryu do if he came face to face with him…what would he say to a man he had once considered the next leader of the Jedi…to whom he had implicitly entrusted Sofa by ignoring their relationship…

He knew what Yoda - the Order - would want him to do…but was that what a Jedi should do?  All he knew was they shouldn’t be here…they had no moral high ground from which to accuse the Aethans of treachery and murder, for they had not reflected and admitted their own failings. 

“Let he who is without Sin himself,” the adage Odjina had taught him long years past “Cast the First Stone in judgment.”.

The trees went on forever as their group of seven plodded along in rain that made silent movement near impossible amidst squelching organic matter underfoot. 

As hours passed the rain increased, the rustling of mammalian animals diminished as they sheltered, insects replaced them using the droplets as incubators for their spawn on leaves and flowers.  The Jedi kept a rough circle, defensive and quiet. 

This was a road to nowhere, there would be no resolution for the Jedi in Valens or Milaea…the Orders problems were within.

Twigs snapped with his thoughts, they had arrived.  The area was known for large packs of vornskrs…so far they had seen none of the force sensitive predators. 

Yshrrk held up his fist, stopping them dead, the others reached out to the surrounds. The jungle was so full of life… he would’ve loved to explore the living force here with Sofa and Milaea…

Yshrrk made simple signs and they closed in, more leaves rustled around them…all around them.

“I hope this is a horrible coincidence Soryu,” a whisper came in his ear…no not his ear…his mind…a master of telepathic communication…male but not Valens…familiar….

No….

Yellow eyes began to peek from the foliage, one pair, four, eight, sixteen…

No…



It had been easy enough to accumulate all the vornskrs he could desire, he found one pack, had Arxis defeat the vornskr Alpha in battle to assert dominance, then a little aetheric prompt to solidify his control.  Jarys had accumulated three packs, some forty Vornskrs, before he had sensed Them.

He hated…HATED…what this meant…he had come here to build up his people, restore and renew their world with new animals and plants…develop his relationship with Kiraea…start to put War behind him…this was a time to LIVE.

But War would never leave him it seemed, so it became a time for death once more.

Tracking them with a chain of quick running vornskr scouts for three hours, he now had them surrounded. There were seven, the leader a huge Wookie, a smattering of other races, and Soryu.

“I hope this is a horrible coincidence Soryu” he projected from his hiding place on an Ibira branch as the vornskrs closed in.  He couldn’t control them directly, they sensed he felt threatened but not quite mortally afraid of the Jedi.  Their instinctive drive to attack these strange animals that had entered their territory was strong, but Jarys could keep it in check…for now.

“They want Valens and Milaea,” Soryu’s thought reply came back…

“They aren’t here…” he replied mentally…not that it mattered the fact the Jedi were after them was all he needed to know, they wanted to continue the war they had started by attacking him on Cygrat, then Santooine.  Only on Coruscant had he and Valens finally retaliated, killing dozens including their War Chief Kimar - Not enough it seemed to dissuade them.

“If they see you…they’ll recognize you and attack any way,” Soryu went on as Jarys repositioned leaping silently across branches as wide as hover cars.

“You can’t win this war Jedi,”

Jarys could see them all now, in a defensive circle eyeing off the vornskrs that surrounded them, sending out cautious aetheric probes to work out how to calm the beasts.

“We lost when we Exiled the Mak’Tor…this battle…just shows how far the Order has fallen, and for that…I’m sorry” the older man replied - his slouching and tired posture how dejected and genuinely reluctant Soryu was.

It surprised him, Jarys didn’t know quite how to respond, Soryu didn’t want to be here, Jarys didn’t want them here…and yet here they both were.

“I’m tired of fighting…I came here to make something, to live…not destroy,” he thought across to the Jedi Master, “Just leave, before this gets any worse”

Soryu’s head turned to look up toward him, the other Jedi oblivious to the conversation.

“I’m truly sorry Jarys…but it’s not my decision to make…”

Jarys simply hung his head as War reared it’s once again.



It was like a miniature Centre point Station…well miniature in comparison…but still enormous…there was no hail…no sign of life on the thing…the only lights came from what appeared to be a hangar…though he doubted that was the original purpose of the huge square cavern…

It was sprinkled with ancient and odd ships…

Four-Eight beeped and gestured toward one…thermal readouts indicated this ship had flown sometime in the last week…the others were as cold and dead as the structure around them. 

He exited cautiously, he couldn’t sense and Four-Eight couldn’t detect any movement…Jo kept himself primed, armoured and ready in a modified version of M’Tzigon militia riot armour.

“Put a tracer on that ship,” he told Four-eight gesturing noting it foot prints going to and from it in the dust.

“Then wait here, protect the Rain Song…if I’m not back in six hours…activate sub-routine Light Box.”  This was his trump card…worst came to worst he would have Four eight overload the drive core on the Rain Song and blow the Sith to pieces.

The force was odd here…dead but…swirling…as if…something hid just beneath the surface of the whirlpool wishing to pull him under should his mind wander.

Crouching through the corridors following the force like a thread…along the path were odd things thrown away over the eons…and one set of footprints going back and forth in the metallic dust…either a slightly below average height male humanoid or above average female…Neirai?

The force grew…stranger as he got closer…a voice…echoing in a cavern…and…music…familiar

A blue and yellow light spilled out of a large rectangular opening down the hall, he crept to the corner and pulling his blaster peered in.

“I’m on fire for you baby!  Woo Woo Woo yeah!”  Shouted a woman with loose, long black hair, dressed in a padded utility outfit undone to the waist, a white undershirt beneath, dancing and singing along to a ten year old hit by the Blazing Comets….

“Burning through the galaxy…yeah you’re love sets me alight Hey Hey Hey!!”

His mouth dropped in utter shock…behind her was a vortex of blue force energy with dozens of…bodies floating around it….

By the Maker what was going on!!! It was the most embarrassing and confusing thing he had ever seen…he felt ashamed to be watching this…her singing was atrocious…her dancing was worse…and she was doing it under floating mummified corpses!  He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream.

“Light me up, light me up I’m ready to go…oh…oh…what” she suddenly stopped, he immediately pulled back but felt the force tug on him…he stepped out hands open,

“Who are you” she called, her face slightly red from…attempted dancing…holding a blaster in one hand a lightsabre in the other.

He looked her over…

“Master Neirai?” He asked

Scanning him visually and with the force…

“Hey…aren’t you…Jo…Jo from the Mak’tor?”

Ok this was good…he could work with this…

“That’s right…Sofa, Soryu’s apprentice…”

“Hey yeah,” she replied lowering her weapons, “what are you doing here,” he kept his presence calm and unthreatening…

“I’m here on a mission, just…investigating,”

Why was he slurring his words? Sofa briefly thought…till she realised it was less him talking slow than her new ears hearing fast.

In between that brief moment of realisation she had paused…yet now realised to him the conversation was still uninterrupted…

She snorted, “Well you’ve found it, the weirdest place in the galaxy…” 

He couldn’t agree more

“It’s got good acoustics though…” she went on - that he couldn’t disagree with more,

“Yeah, well…what brings you here a mission for the council?” he probed,

“Something like that…” she replied, zipping up her suit…as he moved closer he noticed she looked…the same as he remembered her…but that was nearly sixteen years ago…she should be about forty, a few years younger than him…she looked all of nineteen…some kind of illusion…make up?

“Hungry?” she asked sitting beside a half empty crate of rations,

“Sorry about before gets boring waiting around here…have to make my own entertainment…We’re both luck you didn’t come hour earlier….”  As he accepted her invitation by sitting he decided he didn’t want to know how she had been entertaining herself an hour earlier…

Jo had to play this carefully…she didn’t seem to feel threatened…yet still there was something odd going on with her - unusually youthful looks, speaking in quick bursts of words, hand movements too fast…like she was on some kind of drug…a Sith control narcotic perhaps?

“So how long have you been here?”  he asked unsure what she was waiting for or why,

“Nearly 3 days…” 

“That’s…a long time,”

She shrugged and handed him a ration bar…it had odd script he had never…or rarely…seen before…Chiss?

“Who knows…” she glanced up at the bodies, “Centuries might not be enough…”

He took a brief mental stock…just her, one ship, only her footprints,

“So who are you waiting to meet, it’s an odd place”

She gave him an odd look, “Just waiting for a…friend,” the force between turned from congenial to tense.

He was about to speak when they both sensed it…

She stood up so quickly he hadn’t even seen her move, let alone notice the blaster and sabre come to her hands.

“Unexpected visitors,” Sofa snapped.

Oh....

I have a feeling that Soryu may be coming to a very critical decision point...

And Jo'Set and Sofa fighting together against another "unexpected visitor"....    Hmmm......   

Love the way you're weaving this together, LSG!  There are interesting plot lines and twists, all heading to a finale of some kind, but there's enough misdirection and obfuscation that I really don't know what's coming!  :-)

I really feel, of all the characters, for Soryu.  I kinda wish he'd just run off to the Mak'Tor ... or been able to force his own leadership on the Jedi.  *sigh*

Karm is very much correct.  Again I'm reminded of how for for every expected consequence there is at least one that is unexpected.  Jo'set's very appearance is testament to that.  And with Sofa fully Aethan (except in her thinking), there's another factor to consider...

For me, Soryu represents what the Jedi should have been.  Now he's thrust between his own "Scylla and Charybdis" moment: Jarys and Yoda...

With events coming to a head fast... Let's not forget that the Sith have their own agenda...

This is going to be GOOD  8)

The Aether was the universe…the universe was the aether…

Outside they seemed distinct…in here the truth of the oneness was plain…the ‘barriers’ dissolved as the illusions they were – reality was the Whole.

The Oneness was in him and around him…astounding, infinite, amazing, eternal…he gazed, thought, felt in awe of it for…Time…Time which had no meaning to the eternal…

But he had purpose…intent to be here beyond this…he needed anchors…

Vision…

The visual cortex made up much of sentients cognition…

That would work…a body…he formed a visual body…the streams of pure aetheric energy about him turned to lines…visual recognition centres would interpret the aetheric energies as sights…the hearing ones sounds…so he could…understand…find his way…

But it took more…Time…to form the infinite into something his limited mind could comprehend…

He was here because…he was here…reason…memory…he needed memory to direct…emotion and memory…emotion strengthened memory…strong emotion would guide him…warmth, love, compassion…yes
Sofa…Sofa…shame…guilt…betrayal…Shilea…failure…weakness…Cilina…yes those were the two he needed to find…Shilea and Cilina….

Currents swirled around him a draining sink of colours began to twist into an image – he stepped, or thought toward it.



“Ubese!” she yelled over the blaster fire pinning them in the corridor
“How did they get here!”
Jo peeked round the corner to fire off another bolt,
“They must’ve followed me from Nar Shadda…”

Either the Night Sister had figured out who he was hunting, or more likely she’d just sold the name of a ‘Jedi’ to the Ubese…probably both…

He snapped his face back as a bolt hit the metal causing an acrid smoke to fill his nostrils…he couldn’t blame the Witch on the edge of survival as she was…

“What the frell were you doing on Nar Shadda,” she called back

She didn’t really sense any danger from him directed toward her specifically…but he was clearly here for a less than noble reason…but with Ubese swarming through the labyrinths of the stations walkways she didn’t need another enemy.

She could sense even more of them coming in from a hangar like area on the opposite side of the station to where her ship was…there were…forty six of them…she knew precisely…where they were…new abilities and senses gave her so much…just…power…but even so there was only her and Jo to hold them off.

“Head up the ladder two rooms back and come down from the top!” she called out…she had explored as much as she dared over the last few days and the cognitive improvements gave her a precise memory…integrated seamlessly with her force senses of where they were…she should be able to deal with them.

He looked across at her with a curious frown, she peeked out and fired a shot from Valens rifle blasting a burning scar in the metal and taking off an Ubese arm and half their torso…she really should use blasters more often.

Jo finally nodded and headed back the way they had come, ducking and rolling to avoid the incoming fire, the back of his riot armour picking up another series of shallow black divots.

He didn’t fully trust her…so far she hadn’t made any obviously violent moves, but then he hadn’t challenged her mind control directly yet…he glanced behind hoping he wasn’t’ hit in the back by her brutal rifle.

She peaked out to provide covering fire as Jo skidded away - she didn’t fully trust him…but Mak’Tor were not known for being deceitful…and she had little other option…no matter her new powers…she was still just one woman.



He was seven for a moment…his first life…The Director of the Aethenaea project looking over his charts as Valance sat in the corner

“40% beneath Aethena’s results at the same age…disappointing…barely above a normal child’s average…,”
High Director Varance looked at him warmly, but there was no hiding the disappointment in the aether.

<<>>

He was twelve for a moment, the ball bounced off his shin and landed just in front of his foot…they were coming at him…should he pass it to the side…or try and boot it over their heads…he weighed up the various options, taking into account the wind speed, likely responses of the…

Too late, Karan shouldered him onto his butt and took the ball with precise steps.

<<>>

He was thirteen…they were handing out prizes for best in class…history, biology, mathematics, martial arts, marksmanship, piloting…he won none.

From behind the podium Aethena looked bored, a few years older than him, annoyed at having to present the awards…she glanced across with a vicious smile…looking upon him she saw how perfect she was.

He was meant to be her match, yet could barely make the grade in anything…he tried so hard…but couldn’t…couldn’t work out how best to write his sentences, how best to allocate targets……he lost time thinking and ended up rushing…making bad choices, opportunities slipping by as he remained lost in hesitation.

Valens needed to push past this…this was too far back…the figures were fragmented…and he didn’t need to be reminded of his failings…he knew them all too well.

He was sixteen, High Director Varance trying to instil upon him the need to act more decisively…he said he was not disappointed but the aether did not lie…

“I know it’s hard…to have so much going on inside your head…so many thoughts coming so fast…try…try picking the first one and going with that…no matter your doubts thereafter just go with it…”

He watched Siphaea, her cool hair less red than blonde, eyes light and clear, a purplish grey, smile board and welcoming as she put her arms around HIM. 

Bitterness filled his heart as Siphaea and Karan danced together…fists balled, nails digging into his palm…Varance noted his adoptive sons growing frustration…he realised this was what Valance had needed - he was built to kill…he needed an enemy…that was the key to unlocking his power.

<<>>

Eighteen…his first tour in the Guard…he exceeded all expectations, all records apart from those set by Aethena herself…whatever he had to do to show he was better than Karan…then maybe, just maybe Siphaea would pay attention to him…for he couldn’t speak to her…his tongue tripped on itself…she scared him…the Sith before him for all the shrunken heads of fallen enemies on pauldron spikes was nothing compared to the terror her beauty inspired…Maybe if he took this one’s head…then the next…then the next…

Dozens turned to hundreds, hundreds to thousands as his blade spilt rivers of his enemy’s blood – Siphaea still didn’t see past Karan…

But Aethena looked upon him now with curiosity and trepidation.

<<>>

Twenty Four…his heart churning as he sat around the table at their wedding dinner…Siphaea and Karan…

“Just take her…you know you want to…” Aethena whispered in his ear though she sat on the opposite side of the wide circular table
“You have the Power…”.
He wanted to…yet his indecision cut him to the quick once more…he could plot precise tactical manoeuvres in an instant – but dealing with People left him stilted.

“Let me help you…” she crooned across the room “I’ll make Karan walk straight over and kiss me…she’ll never forgive him…she’ll be all yours…”

No…this as too far back…this part of his past was dead…and needed to stay dead…

He was here for Shilea…

“Are you…are you really…” Aethena asked with her blood red grin.



Seventy Eight in total…on three large ships…organised into six man teams that kept all angles covered…stalking quietly through the cat walks looking for chances keeping to the shadows crawling under heated pipes to avoid thermal detection.

It was ‘Jedi Master Neirai’ time…she needed to make sure they didn’t reach Valens…he may acting like a sulky stubborn nerf…but he was her nerf.

Ubese hated Jedi, blaming them for making their home world a toxic dump, so any attempt to calm them down with the force would be met with maximum hostility…

Six were just ahead covering all points in a T junction, two moving carefully up the corridor she was hanging over…she hadn’t had much time to train with the other Aethans…only some basic history and techniques…she had hoped Valens would teach her…she felt like a padawan…uncertain, feeling her way through strange new parts of herself….

Slipping her sabre off the force glided between their helmets sweeps as she positioned herself to the side of the catwalk prone and aiming…but she could also use the pistol…

One of the weirder feelings was co-ordinating her new mind of roughly six streams of conscious thought all at once…one positioned the sabre, one aimed the rifle, one aimed the blaster, one kept a check on the other Ubese, one on Jo, and the other…was looking at what the other five were doing…

No wonder Valens looked confused sometimes and Milaea excelled in every field of study.

The closest Ubese stepped forward - she fired.

The pistol bolt seared through the helmet, the rifle punched the other through the chest, sabre ignited and spun like a wheel slicing the remaining four to cauterized pieces before they could even react.

Two more behind one of the voices of her mind called to the other five.

Rolling off the catwalk she pivoted firing two shots - one wide the other took a knee as she hugged the wall for cover.  Redirecting her sabre straight toward them – even telekinesis was faster and stronger – the kneecapped one lost his head, the other miserably failed to shoot the Guardian blue sabre down before being skewered. 

Another two squads inbound…she fell back…for now.



The Wedding party dissolved into rotting corpses as Aethena strode forward.

“Did you miss me?” she crooned softly as the whole space flooded white against her red,

“Aethena…please…help me get them back…you promised you would…” he said quietly

“Only if you got me out of that altar…but no…you took my power, what you judged my best qualities…then destroyed the rest!”

In an instant she was right in his face…her skin exuding the primordial heat of a star as the scene changed to the blazing conflagration that caused their worlds Collapse – a reminder of how impotent he had been, trapped in an infant’s body as Aethena struggled to destroy the Sith fleet.

“Why shouldn’t I just keep you here with me…” she wrapped her arms around his neck…

“We can fade away together…we were always meant to be together…” lips brushed his with painful intensity

“Or you could forget about those little girls and take a real woman back with you….”
 
He could that see her face, whilst not as translucent as the others he had seen, was hardly as opaque as his own…she was already fading…of rather being drawn away to…somewhere.  There was not enough of her left…and if there wasn’t enough of someone as strong as her…

He had failed once more…

“Spare me the self-pity…” she vanished from beside him to take up a dark throne, beneath her feet lay Shilea and Cilina…
 
He stretched out to grab at the prone form of Cilina…but it was…hollow…emptying out by the second, parts of her body fading into the aether about him…

He had failed them…failed everyone…it was too late….

They had died in pain and suffering, their last moments torment and horror…and he could do nothing to repair it.

‘What good is all this power and knowledge’…he thought…or spoke…there was no distinction between the two in this place…if he could not save them…they were lost and in pain…how many more hundreds of People with them…

All of them…all of them he’d failed…twice…once for allowing them to die…and secondly for not bringing them back…

This is it...If I can’t even do that much…what use am I…

Aethena grinned - at last he saw…

“Come back to me Valance…” she stretched out her hand as the room twisted into her white draped harem
“You can’t help your people any more…they don’t need your failures…join with me again….”

“I am a failure…I’ve failed my People…” he looked down…or up…or sideways…in the strange miasma of darkness slowly sweeping over the white…

His eyes switched from their normal grey to blazing blue energy

“But you are not Aethena,”

They were hard pressed.  After nearly four hours of fighting through the station he was weak and hungry…The trip here had drained him - physically inactive too long in the pilot’s seat the sudden shock to the system left him struggling to keep pace. 

They were in the corridors just outside the main chamber, bolts flashing past and scoring the ancient metal, three Ubese lay dead between their cover points, sliced by their lightsabre throws.

According to Sofa’s unnatural ability there were thirty nine of them left, anyone else would have fled but Ubese after Jedi were like a rancor with a bone. Sofa was opposite snapping shots blindly, carbon scoring, smoke and small cuts across her tactical suit, oil and rust smear on her face. He doubted he looked any better.

“Any Mak’tor magic?” she called across,

“Any Jedi Magic?” he called back,

“Not that they aren’t wise too,” she called over another burst

They had done well so far, picked them off as they could…but now…they couldn’t cycle out fresh men like they were doing…and the Ubese could tell they had them in a corner, their confidence and greed mingled with bloody thrill of killing Jedi and expecting a 10 million credit payday for Valens or Milaea. .

He poked out and fired off another round hitting only an already honeycombed column.  He had been mostly awake for nearly 35 hours…there was nowhere safe to rest in the Maw – he had perhaps another hour left in him.

Sofa seemed to be fare better…yet there was something…unnatural about it.  She flipped out and hurled a massive blast of force energy down the passage, battering a few of them, but they were mag-locking their boots to the platform so didn’t fall over…that trick had scored them four kills the first time, no more since.

He peeked out and took four shots, two grazing armour, Sofa’s follow up shots hitting the poking out barrel of a rifle.

“Kark it,” he said sensing movement, “they're circling around,” Sofa did not want them in the main chamber for some reason…he suspected Valens and Milaea were amongst the bodies floating up there in some kind of trance…Maker knew what they were doing to the force…but hopefully they would be even more drained, or still unconscious when the Ubese were gone and he could end them swiftly…Sofa…he would deal with after…if she killed him…fine – so long as she didn’t sing again…

They stopped firing…never ever a good sign, Sofa shrugged…a muffled explosion…then a tingling…static…from…

He leapt away from the wall he had been taking cover on as it lit up with electrical current…they were going to flush them out by electrifying the whole metal structure around them.

This was not how he would die, hiding in cover waiting to be knocked out.  He filled himself with the force and charged.

Bolts surged toward him, he knocked them back with furious precision, sent grenades tumbling backwards as they retreated from the insane charge…it was an old trick to make a random charge when they least expected it…

Blaster fire started to come from behind, but no bolts got past Sofa’s blade…if they could break them now…terrify them into running…

They were retreating back, their fire kept him from getting into melee range, helmet distorted language screamed from the Ubese as they started tossing more grenades…he sent one back…

It exploded in a blinding flash…more came but detonated mid-air sending electrical sparks to the edge of his suit…stun grenades…something had made them change tactics…energy from the floor started to course through his boots as they electrified it

Shock energy bounced against his sabre as he relied on the force to protect him when his eyes couldn’t see…

It was a futile effort against so many…more blasts got through fraying his nerves and sending him to his knees…the static from the floor frying what was left of his consciousness into darkness.



Quicker than she had expected a flaming beam of energy erupted from him blasting the skin she had effected away.

Reverting to her more common form she stood somewhat surprised by his sudden shift in emotion…this was not a normal human she realised…this was a being whose emotional range and reaction was beyond her experience…

How did he know…how did he realise she was only effecting a disguise.

“Because you counselled surrender” he replied the luminosity of his being growing with each second as he prepared for battle.

“Aethena would never willingly slip away into oblivion…you took her form but not enough of her personality remained for you to copy effectively” - that determination…that will to survive still lived in Milaea.

A strange form resolved before him as the dying flecks of his first blast billowed off like ash in wind. 

A barely-female being with deeply-sunken black eye sockets – eyes like pinprick stars in the veil of night…a sick mouth that crossed her entire face full of sharpened teeth and disgusting stubby tentacle like arms.   

He knew what she wanted…a companion to join her, adore her…a replacement for those she had lost – in a way he felt a pity for the creature, disgusting as it was, to be torn away from your People was a pain he could empathize with, Valens understood only too well no Outsider could ever be a substitute – perhaps that was a piece of wisdom this being was yet to possess.

Abeloth realised she needed a new strategy…if appealing to his despair would not work, perhaps hope might,

“You want those two back…I can show you how…the Font can give you anything you desire and the Pool…” the world shifted around them till they were on opposite shores around a bubbling clear yet muddy pool of blue-yellow water.

“Together we can rebuild your people…together we can make the galaxy our own….”

She didn’t understand…to be given a future was to have no future but as a slave to a greater master, they forged their own – the Aethans took the knowledge of others, their abilities, their strategies…but that was to adapt them in their own way – they would succeed or fail by their own merits - That was Natural Selection, that was the way of the universe…that was the fight between life and death. 

“You offer what is not yours to give,” Valens retorted “With the intent to trap us…”

“Intent…” Abeloth mused “Who says you are not already trapped,”

“You wouldn’t offer me incentives if I were…your power if great…I can sense that…but it is finite…you’ve seen Aethena and that scared you…and you do not scare easily….”  He loosened the pure energy that was manifested as fists slightly,

Abeloth found herself in a quandary…she could not manipulate or tempt this one…and as she was now she could not be certain she was strong enough to control him…destroy him yes…but to tame him would take all her effort…

She needed to feed upon more beings…yet so few came…If Abeloth tried to feed on him he would resist…he would damage her and drain himself in the fight - there would net a net loss of energy for the attempt….and if his People – this Milaea - then came for retribution she would be too weak to win. 

Yet for all this she wanted someone…anyone to be with her….

Worst of all he could see her parsing through these options….

Know the enemy and know thyself and victory is never in doubt…as it stood neither knew the other enough to be assured of victory - the only option that they could both live with was simply to walk away.

“You are correct Valens the Aethan, Slayer of Masters…I do not scare easily…but nor do you it seems…”

It was as close to a concession of respect and neutrality as either would give.

Feeling out his real world surrounds she saw an opportunity…

“Perhaps even if you do not wish to bathe in the Pool of Knowledge…you may find something of interest in a glance.”

Flicking one eye down an apparition rose softly from the waters…Sofa…injured…tied…figures around her with death on their minds

”If you hurt me…” Sofa said clearly



Jo was out…his body flickering with stun energies.  Now she was in big trouble…she could feel the numbness seep up through her clothes…Jo hadn’t been able to resist it, her new body could - if only just.

Hammering at her form both sides her versatile Niman deflected the obvious shots…but the electrified walls and floor left nowhere to run but straight through them…

Yet that wasn’t her main problem. 

She could feel her new heart less pumping than spinning blood through her, muscles taught and strong, her breathing deep and quick at the same time…the new sensations of her new body were unsettling…powerful yet destabilizing, her vision was starting to blur…she didn’t know how to handle her own body in a stimulated state.

A tension was building up behind her eyes that she didn’t know what to do with, her shoulders twitched with pent up force she was scared to unleash for the simple fact she didn’t know what would happen…from between her legs up through her spine a strange pleasure at the fight, an excitement stimulating her to keep killing – an animalistic mindset to hunt and survive then mate and reproduce.

Darting as best she could between the blue bolts, white flash from her sabre knocking them into the walls…her legs moved with unstable speed forward…she felt like she was running on an ice treadmill switched to maximum - she could move but was in constant danger of slipping.  Some instinct kept her out of the way of the blasts as her hands began to fumble with her own sabre.

Reaching the end of the hall the Ubese fell back into a rough V to greet her charge…she knew she was beaten…legs unruly, arms twitching demanding orders she didn’t know how to give…

Peripheral vision caught Ubese switching weapons, pulling out launchers arrayed with bunched thin wires…

The first she slashed in half, the second ducked under…the third stun net slammed into her back as relentless momentum smacked her straight into the blunt end of the T junction. 



This was a dangerous being…he was outmatched – had rushed into the situation unprepared…another failure to add to the list…but she was trapped here…

A paltry few lives a reasonable offering for this beings neutrality...If he or another Aethan were ever to reach a point where this creature was no longer a threat…he first had to inform them of its very existence.

“Very well…” he agreed to the unspoken compact driven by mutual distrust of their own abilities. 

“I won’t bar your way,” Abeloth noted as it descended back into the mists beyond the lake, “But they might…”

“Justice…” Kimar echoed behind him

“Balance” Odjina beside him…or rather some twisted potion of what remained of them…pieces that their spirits had shed…the very worst of their personalities…

Kimars figure was stronger as the lake vanished replaced by a darkened room that was both and neither the Council Chamber and the caverns of Vyth…

Odjina’s was more transparent, the remnants of his less noble side that seeing an opportunity for revenge split off from his truer soul.

Behind them his true body was floating in the purple-blue energy field, what looked like Ubese wandering around beneath.

Whether Abeloth had summoned them up, or they had been drawn to his presence beyond the shadows he would never discern – it didn’t really matter. 

Sofa was in danger, his mate was in danger, a primitive strength filled his soul, he could not – would not lose her – and there was nothing that these shades, the Abomination or a thousand more could do ever do to keep him from the woman he loved.

He charged.

A battle of the pure aether was a churn of energies, wave hitting wave, frequency countering frequency, a twisting equilibrium that was turned by his visual and pre-frontal cortex into a physical fight – it may appear that Odjina’s fist was smacking into his shoulder, or his foot slamming Kimar’s sternum – the reality was energy on energy.

They were as fast as him in here, death the great equalizer. 

If his technique was better their numbers offset the advantage, the once enemies fought with a level of co-operation in death that would’ve been unthinkable in life. There was something ironic to that he would consider later.

Twisting and pushing, elbows, knees and fists in a tumult, Kimar the tallest used his reach, Odjina the faster kept Valens from breaking out into the infinite space around them.

The dead were strong, but they had a weakness.  They fought as well as their best in life – but no better – they could not learn, change or adapt – the living could.

He allowed himself to take a number of minor hits, pain was not localized to a body part - it was an effuse build-up of red within him. The prize for the pain was seeing their tactics, they were finite and increasingly trite, a deft sidestep from a kick, ducking under a hammer like punch, he came round in a spinning upper cut to smash Kimars jaw, gripping the amorphous body to ram it into Odjina then kick home into the chest.

The bodies sprawled off seeming to coalesce into one strange two headed figure,
“Justice, Balance” both voices echoed in eerie synchronicity as it approached

“Find the balance and justice in what was done to my People,” Valens snapped

“And then you can find it for yours!”

The motely creatures charge stopped befuddled by his challenge, there was more than one way to fight in this place beyond the shadows where emotions were as real as blades.

The shades of the two men had no more knowledge than when they had died, no more answers or way to retaliate against such an impossible question – what balance or justice was there in killing and enslaving anyone, and how then could they judge by their morality the responses the Children of that action took…it paused.

And in that pause Valens unleashed, hands like pistons pummelled the abominable chest and separate heads into broken shards of energy that melted away into the aether as he leapt past the wreckage and back into physical reality.



Pain…if you were in pain you were still alive

Opening pained eyes to the central chamber, hands painfully tied he was propped up against some alien tractor.  Sofa was a little way ahead surrounded by Ubese…she looked fierce…but he could feel her fear.

“Where are they!”  what he could only guess was the Ubese clan leader said in guttural basic, holding a holo of Valens and Milaea

He couldn’t have been out for long, they were still fixing her ankle restraints,

“Trust me you don’t want to find either of them,” she replied

The Ubese pointed up at the floaters,

“Here?” the Ubese asked, his hate was boiling off him…he wanted nothing more than to kill the both for the crime of being Jedi…amplified by the losses they had inflicted the leaders rage was epic.

The Ubese shoved the barrel of his blaster to her forehead,

“Where!” they hadn’t seemed to notice Jo had come to yet…but his options were limited against twenty of them…he could bring down some catwalks, use the force to detonate some blaster power packs…but no matter what he did there were too many…

“If you hurt me…” she said with the serenity of a Jedi Master

“They’ll find you…” he could feel her using the force to add a cold edge of inevitability to her words

“Your clan, your people...you’ll bring destruction ten times what you’ve already suffered upon yourself,” 

A split appeared in the Ubese Aura’s…half were indignant the others worried based on what they had already seen…the strange sight of the floating bodies was tipping the balance to fear with every second.

The leader suddenly spied him, issuing commands in Ubese’, what looked like a lieutenant dragged him forward.

“Where are they!” the leader yelled through his helmet,

Jo was about to speak when he sensed something…

Bright…

His eyes stung and held the after image of the lighting flash that erupted around the room.  As he tried to blink the exposure out he sensed everything…EVERYTHING in the room expect himself and Sofa die.

A body floated down from the swirl above him, a male…wearing dirty trousers, medical tape strapping intravenous drips to his chest along with a black rock…gaunt eyes as if he had been awake as long as Jo had, lighting crackling from his hands…Valens.

The other Ubese around the station echoed shock in the force…no doubt their squad status indicators had just flared…it didn’t last –

They too vanished from life as Sofas bonds….dissolved was the only word he could use for it and she rushed to Valens.

Jo used the force to break free, this was his chance…if he could kill Valens fast it would break the mind control he had on Sofa so he wouldn’t have to fight them both.

“HO’LI” he shouted and leapt forward summoning his sabre from a fallen Ubese.

But he didn’t land…didn’t move…he just froze in the air as they stared at him.

Valens had a vicious predatory look…and…Jo’s own blue sabre in his hand…Jo hadn’t even seen it fly or felt it leave….No! He would kill Him for Ho’li for Odjina for Ha’Ona!

Sofa looked at Jo and shook her head slowly as Odjina had at times…like he was a teidowan who had just disappointed his master.  Save your pity Sith bitch!

Blue energy flared in the Sith’s hand,

NO he wouldn’t be beaten, he trashed against his confinement…pushed in and out in the force…something…something must work!!!

“NO” Sofa yelled, a cracking blue light flickered just in front of Jo’s eyes as she jumped in front of Valens

A distraction...if he could just break free…just move…

“Don’t kill him…for me” the manipulation this thing had inflicted on that poor woman only incensed Jo more…he would scream but he couldn’t move his mouth!

The lighting vanished into blue sparks that burnt his skin superficially as they walked past, Sofa helping Valens along as he absently summoned the body of the Ubese leader to float behind him.

First thought:  "You should have let me kill him in the core..."

Whoa.

LSG, loved the details!  The Ubese, Abeloth...   Amazing.  And even while Valens continues to struggle with his own sense of failure he was forced to make a choice for Sofa.  Not a bad choice, either.

I am feeling a bit for Jo.  He's on a fools errand and frankly deserves whatever he gets (bloody Mack clan idiots) but at the same time you gotta feel for a fairly adept Jedi who gets man-handled like that, then gets the back turned on him in contempt, not even dangerous enough to warrant killing.

But I suspect he won't take the hint and give up.   Darned Macks are always punching above their weights.  Jo just forgot to bring his magic crystal collection to the party...  ;-)

I have to echo Karm: WONDERFUL details LSG!  And introducing Aboleth like that?  BRILLIANT!!  But once again we get another glimpse of Valens that reminds us that despite his power, his genetic imperative towards war, he's still a flawed emotional (super) being.  But even better is the duality between his duty to Shilea & Celina and his sincere love towards Sofa. 

Jo'set... How did Karm put it? Ah: "Darned Macks are always punching above their weights" indeed  ;).  But can Jo also look beyond what is driving him?   Or like so many of us, doomed to follow a script of his own making?  Personally, I think that Jo could really end up being a fulcrum for the Aethans and their xenophobia... Just not sure for which result  ;)

Oh, and I love the thumbnail images for this chapter!!

The ship hovered as the Jedi descended, seven in all, mostly aliens, of note was the small green one.  Valens had warned her about this one.

She kept herself concealed behind a rocky outcrop atop one of the pillars as they expanded their awareness looking for her on another outcrop some forty metres away.

It couldn’t be a coincidence they were here, one poked around and summoned the small green Yoda toward him, gesturing toward the traps she had set minutes before.

There were too many to fight alone…she wasn’t equipped for a fight, only a few weapons and light utilities for jungle travel…and she couldn’t risk signalling Jarys with the aether for help.  If she was cautious she might take one or two by surprise, but Valens had been very clear “avoid Yoda”.

There were no good options, they knew someone was here, likely had thermal scanners on the ship…she took what she hoped was the less risky path - leaping onto the large rocky outcrop they were positioning on.

“Nice day for a hike!” she said warmly as they turned grasping their weapons but not igniting them…yet.

“Yourself Identify,” Yoda said sternly, he was positioned just under the hovering ship on a jutting rock higher than the others.

“Identify Yourself!” She replied jovially hands on her hips,

“Yoda, Master Jedi, in pursuit of dangerous fugitives, for your safety, yourself identify,” Yoda replied broking no argument.

In any other situation, against hundreds of others beings what Yoda added to his words – a simple burst of Force Compulsion to gain compliance and subdue resistance – would be innocuous.  Jarys or Valens would’ve simply dismissed the attempt and thought no more of it.

But they were mere males.  To try and impose ones will on an Aethan female was sacrilegious, an affront to the Divine Feminine every woman represented and embodied. It stirred offence and vile hate in Kiraea, her mind instantly interpreting the act in light of what Outsiders had forced upon her People in their enslavement - there was only one possible response. 

Kiraea kept her cool for the moment despite the outrage.

“Why do you speak funny?  Did school you got to not? Or head blows one too many receive?” she taunted while keeping her aetheric presence diminished as she ran through options before they ganged up on her, utterly convinced Yoda’s mental push was the probing precursor to an attempt to enslave and abuse her as so many of her People had been.

“Attempts to mock me your own insecurity betray, Yourself Identify immediately,” Yoda pressed very hard, his expression betrayed annoyance at her near invisible presence. 

A concealed aetheric presence was not, however, an idle one.  The circuitry, the capacitors, the real space conversion ionizer…going into the details of machinery was her speciality, usually reserved for locks and security systems, it worked just as well on hyperdrives.

“Geez talk about little man syndrome…” she went on as the Jedi shifted to a ready stance with movements so minute only a fellow aether warrior would notice.  Now, secondary fuel line emergency resistor cut…bridge status warnings cut….

“Fine,” she huffed, “My name is…”

CREEEEKBKBKBOOOM

The ships engines imploded into a blue and yellow ball of energy, patches of dirt and nests flew from the outcrop, lesser rocks worked loose by rain zoomed off at dangerous speeds, three of the Jedi fell forward taken by the shock wave, the others including Yoda were quicker to use the aether to steady themselves.

The Jedi Master raised his arms instinctively to keep the wrecked and burning ship from falling on top of them.

“Ohh that’ll be hard to fix, later Greenie,” Kiraea smiled as she leapt into the foliage below.


The jungle so still became a circus as insects, birds, reptiles and mammals fled the boom of a distant explosion.  Yshrrk barked for them to close in pushing a force bubble around them to keep from being knocked or bitten by the frightened fauna.

All manner of creatures were pushing past their tight group…the yellow eyes that had surrounded them gone…vornskrs bolted to and fro in the confusion, leaping on smaller creatures and gulping them down with hideous chomps, it all seemed random…but to the edge of the swarm of animals in the clearing was one far bigger than the others, with an odd pearl like protrusion between its eyes making a show of running randomly….

“AIEEEH” The Phindian Go-Sem across the rough circle screamed as a vornskr leapt from the melee to take a vicious bite into the armour plates on his lengthy arms.

The Whiphid Sentinel Hrmin beside him ignited his two sabres to frighten off the creature, unwilling to kill the wild animal who was just looking for food. 

There was nothing random about it, the other animals began to scurry off but the vornskrs were still there, their fur wet and slick as the rain kept beating down.

They howled at the light sabres. Yshrrk roared back and it began.  At least a dozen of the beast leapt and charged toward them, the Jedi here were some of the best in the Order, their sabres and blasters quickly up, the force alive with the push and pull of telekinetic combat as the beasts unleashed their own force attacks. 

Soryu flourished defensive routines to keep the animals from coming near him…they were not responsible, he didn’t want to hurt them. Behind him the others were less concerned about the wildlife, the wet air carried the scent of blood and charred flesh.

He kept his eyes on the larger beast toward the edge of the clearing, his mind alert for when Jarys would strike.  Attacks petered out, he extended his awareness to the nearest animals mind, it didn’t seem obviously effected by anything, a connection to the rest of its pack to be sure…somehow Jarys had them thinking he was their pack leader.

“Yearrgh!” came another scream from behind as human sentinel Arlec Tri wrestled off the jaw of a vornskr off his forearm, Yshrrk surged forward grabbed the beast by the neck in one huge paw and crushed its throat, the limp creature slid off as the Wookie pushed the human inside the circle to join the injured Phindian.

“There is one of them out there!” Soryu yelled, he could no longer remain silent about Jarys…less than two minutes since he had mentally spoken two Jedi were already injured.

The Vornskrs backed off into the trees, the large one, the leader, kept a vigil as they retreated, some with limps or cauterized scars, leaving five dead behind them.  It gave a hideous resonant bark then lunged into the jungle.

“Should we pursue?” Asked the Kel Dor Sentinel Baran Tha through his breather.

Yshrrk shook his head grunting in low Shyriiwook rumbles – <That is what they want>

Soryu pushed past the two injured Jedi in the centre of their circle, grasping the wookies gigantic arm,

“We can’t win this fight, even alone Jarys is too dangerous, with packs of Vornskrs…if we leave now we might be safe,” Soryu pleaded,

The wookie remained silent regarding him then let out a cool questioning growl as the rain slicked and matted his fur,

<How did you know it was the one Jarys that is here?>


He had to use the force to keep himself elevated above the ground here, the rain turned half decomposed leaf matter of the jungle floor into a slurry would sink him up to the hips.

They had descended from the outcrop, leaving the ship to crash upon it.  The pilot killed in the implosion.

300 years old and still making silly mistakes rushing to where he could sense a strong force presence…he should’ve waited for the full Strike force to deploy.  He opted to hit hard and fast with the small team – strategically sound, but still whatever losses they suffered were on him. 

He was angry that for all his foolishness he had not even found Valens or Milaea…he had no doubt this woman was Aethan, but nominally he had no cause to pursue her, indeed he could not even prove she had destroyed their ship. 

They had found little to trace her with, no obvious trail, and the force here dead amongst Oblio trees crammed with null generating Ysalimiri feeding off the saps - whilst other wildlife had fled the explosion, they remained staunchly attached. 

Yoda kept a measured pace, two groups of three Jedi behind him, one left one right.  If she were to attack in the null field they would have no chance, Aethan reflexes and strength were far beyond his capacity to counter without the force.  At least spread out a little she would have to risk choosing only one target at a time.

Howls erupted deeper in the jungle, vornskrs…even the fauna was against them…thin sounds of movement behind - he glanced back to see the Hapan D’Alya crouched observing some bent fronds, the Twi’lek Sintat and Lasat Rwh’an behind her.  Rwh’an motioned him over.

“Found something have you?” he inquired quietly,

“Tracks, boots, light footed recent….deeper here, likely landed from the trees, should we….”
SLAP
D’Alya’s eyes went wide as Rwh’ans hand gripped a dagger millimetres from her forehead, the Lasat’s superhuman reflexes the only ones capable of averting such an attack without the force.

“This girls not playing,” he growled sniffing the air, “Perhaps we should…”

Thwump,
“Urrckkkm” Hummu the Chagiran groaned from the other group.

“Defensive formation, prepare for attack!” Yoda called as Sintat struggled to pull a hastily made wooden spear from Hummu’s chest.

Blades lit up hissing against the rain as they formed a defensive triangle around Hummu, his aura was strong, the armour had taken the brunt of the spear throw, but in a jungle like this the wound could easily become infected, Yoda glanced over to see the tip of the spear wet with blood and swampy brown water.


He had no desire to fight seven Jedi at once, especially not the gigantic Wookie.  But whatever had happened with Kiraea elsewhere forced his hand.  Jarys raced with the pack as quietly as possible through the jungle, the other vornskrs had died to give the rest of them a head start. 

He couldn’t let any more be hurt, he hadn’t come here just to see these beautiful animals suffer, still leaping and sprinting he summoned Arxis mentally.

“You keep the pack together, I’ll draw the enemy pack away from here,” he skidded to a halt, the pack followed suit

Kneeling Arxis came up and licked at his face, he pressed his head to the Vorynx’s.

“I might be gone a while, keep the Yruts safe, only eat the ones you need, draw in all the packs in the surrounding area while I’m gone.  I will be back.”

The Vorynx blinked a few times, then genuflected understanding his intent, with a short bark Arxis communicated the temporary change in leadership and they sprinted into the West.   

He needed to find Kiraea and get off planet.  He felt the movements of the insects and birds behind him, the leading edge of the ripple…the Jedi were onto him.


The Ysalimiri provided the perfect cover…the Jedi had no clue where she was.  Without the force, in the rain, in a strange jungle…they were her prey.

She had spent hours playing with Yorna, Jarys and Valens in the forests back home, even if the species colours and names were different, all ecosystems this similar by virtue of convergent evolution were easy to understand. 

She could feel the living heart of this place beat as easily as she could her homes - knew how to move without disturbing the animals, hide in the crooks of the trees roots, which leaves and mud to camouflage with.

The main danger was the Lasat, their reflexes even without the force were impressive, senses acute. But she hadn’t spent years sneaking into and out of highly secure corporate buildings without picking up a thing or two.

Slidding gently forward, slow and smooth as Maynard always said.  She grasped her shikkars, dipped in mud to ensure they wouldn’t glint, and hopefully add some microscopic nasties into any wounds to boot.

Speaking of boots, she lined up her target and stabbed.


Rwh’an screamed and toppled over. 

Yoda spun as a mess of water splashed up as the Lasat splashed down.  While the leaves and dirt continued to fall a black limb flew out and smashed into Karmins face, he flopped back toward into D’Alyaa as the attacker used his chest as a spring board to leap back from the group.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl, Sintat and Arnora sluggishly moved to intercept, Yoda leapt high and forward - the only being that seemed to move at normal speed was the Aethan woman.  She ended on the trunk of a tree, her momentum pushing her down into a crouch, which she turned to spring back up straight at him.

Surely she wouldn’t meet him mid-air while he had a lightsabre lit!? Inch by painful inch he tried to reposition his leap and his sabre in the slowed time that signalled his brain rapidly processing information.

She twisted mid-air hand on hip un-clasping something that dropped with an arc following her vector…it would land right in the middle of their defensive circle.  Her other hand bringing forward a dark muddy short sword right toward him as the dropped object sent off a slow red light.

It all happened at once.  She jolted momentum cut, Yoda over shot completely, both blades cut only air.

Rwh’An on stumbling haunches had grabbed her leg, his claws piercing her light armour.  Sintat twirled to smack the grenade away from them. 

The Aethan balled up and sliced through Rwh’An’s wrist forcing him to relase as the grenade detonated, the shock wave knocking Yoda further through the air, he recovered to only lightly bang into a tree trunk as the Ysalimiri fled the violence, but only to the next tree on keeping them in a null bubble.

As yellow flames from the explosion made a doomed effort to find purchase on wet foliage he saw the silhoutte of the Aethan in the lighsabres glow, her reflexes able to limit all the Sentinels slashes to glancing scores as she leapt and spun her way out of the ring of Jedi she had found herself in.  As Yoda leapt forward she elbowed Sintat’s right shoulder and crashed through, the air booming with displaced air as she sprinted away.

Sintat and Arnora moved to intercept as D’Alyaa helped Karmin up, Hummu clutched his chest while looking over Rwh’ans ruined ankles, a glass like dagger protruding from each one.

He had to decide, pursue now while understrength or retreat. He could not lose this chance, the sound of another battle in the distance made his choice to continue strategically viable.


There was no getting away, he could feel their determination, they would not retreat, they would not allow them to escape – these Jedi could not be reasoned with.  This was two tribes at war. 

He had come here to live, but if for him to live others must die –

So be it, Jedi.

They kept focused on the main target as the Vornskrs broke away.
“They’re trying to flank us!” called the Devoronian Mayii

Instantly they wheeled back into a defensive circle of glowing blades. 

No, Soryu could sense them getting further away…the front of the pack was too far to turn back on them in time to be effective now. 

“They’re retreating,” he called over the constant patter of the rain on the leaves, what few bits of cloth and even leather he had on his armour were soaked through, his boots despite being ‘water proof’ felt squishy, toes cold.

Yshrrk made a low moan ordering them onwards, not forgetting to add another quick distrustful glance toward Soryu.

They deactivated their blades and started to gather pace when Mayii suddenly pivoted, blade alight in deep amber she sliced through a large globular object coming at her head.

It proved to be the wrong strategy.  The sabre sliced through it with ease but before it hit the ground the bee like insects in the outer sections were already pouring out.  Go-Sem and Hrmin pushed them away with the force as Soryu checked their other flank.  Turning back a dark figure flew out of the trees straight at Yshrrk.

In what was perhaps the most insane thing Soryu had ever seen Jarys had tackled the near three metre tall wookie to the ground, Arlec Tri and Baran Tha immediately lit their blades and moved forward to attack from behind, but were belayed by Yshrrk himself.

<Caution> he growled as he pushed back against the Aethan.  The only reason anyone would be crazy enough take a Wookie High Sentinel head on and hand to hand was if they had some other trap lined up to deal with the others.  As the bees flew off they kept a defensive position watching the furious melee on the ground.

Mud and dirt flew up along with rain that had soaked into Yshrrk’s fur as they battered each other with reams of elbows and knees, it would be too dangerous to try and intervene at this point, wet heavy smacks punched through the air over the incessant down pour and mingled with grunts and growls. 

Deep red as blood spilled from one if not both of the combatants in one of the most vicious, intimate fights Soryu had ever seen…it was hard not to stare at it, let alone try and discern what trap was laid for them. 

A heavy crack sounded as someone broke a bone, the fight had gone on too long…perhaps.

“There is no trap!  That is the trap!” Soryu cried realising Jarys best bet was to take them one on one making the others think there was some other threat coming to keep them out of it.  He ran forward, deactivating his blade which would be a danger to everyone once he entered the fray.

Before the cool green light had died down he hit the activator to sear away the projectile screaming in the air.  His sabre hit dead on but didn’t budge with any imparted kinetic energy. Arlec Tri did the same, but Go-Sem was not so swift, his vornskr bitten arm slowing his reaction as a glinting glass dagger stuck out from his left eye socket…but it produced no pain response. 

An explosion ripped from behind them, Mayii and Hrmin turned to face it, but it yielded no heat…They were all force illusions to keep them from interfering.

“They’re not real, ignore them!” Soryu screamed over the tumult.

Arlec Tri leapt up only to suddenly flop into a huge puddle splashing Go-Sem and Mayii, out of his forehead was a dagger that was no illusion at all. 

There was a trap after all.  A combination of real and fake rocks, daggers and grenades began to assail them.  How Jarys could keep fighting Yshrrk whilst producing such illusions reminded Soryu realise just how outmatched they were.  The illusions may not be well crafted, but in the dark rain you couldn’t tell till they were already on you, he lowered his guard last second as he saw a false blocky knife slide through his arm without impact.

A low rumble from Yshrrk, he had to step in…chancing that the majority were illusions – how many daggers could he truly carry - he raced forward…a mere step away from leaping into help when Milaea appeared right in front of his face,

“Stop!” She cried.

He staggered in sheer fright and fell back tripping on the wet leaves. As soon as he was down she was gone.


He tugged at the wookies arm trying to find purchase on the slick armour and fur, for all their thrashing few blows had been landed, it didn’t matter  it bought time for Kiraea to reach him.  He kept two levels of consciousness on the fight with the wookie two on creating more aetheric illusions, one directing the few real weapons he had floating around and the final one scanning his surrounds.

He had already stabbed this beast twice and broken it upper left arm but it kept fighting, heavy blows softened by mud and slick as aetheric blasts, pushes and pulls churned the soil around them into an ever widening lake of mud and grit.

He was running low on real weapons - he detonated his first grenade near the Phidian, the shockwave slammed it back and elicited cries of surprise - quickly spun his head from the wookies reach and landed another gut blow, receiving a solid crushing grip on his calf in return.

Jarys slid his last real knife low beneath a half dozen illusions at the Devoronian – the aliens focus to defend the head and torso let the real thing slice her knee open.  He kept the real dagger moving but Soryu quickly sliced it apart.

He couldn’t keep this up much longer, he had one grenade and his blaster for a final escape…he really needed Kiraea.


They didn’t seem to be following her…yet...

No doubt they would get out of the Ysalimiri null bubble then pick up her trail.

Jarys seemed in a lot of trouble, burning through concentration and energy, she moved quick as she could soaked as she was, the Lasat’s claws had left her with a painful limp.

“Urghh Just Keep Moving!” she said to herself. 

An explosion rocked the ground up ahead, giving her a boost of energy to push on.  She was not going to let Jarys get killed, at least not until she’d had her way with him a few dozen times!

With Karintha’s subtlety she probed forward…seven Jedi…no six as one dropped dead…one…very big one…

Biting back the pain she sprinted forward and tossed her short sword ahead of her with her last Shikkar, stretched out her hand and opened fire.

Blazing blue energy lit the surrounds as she leapt up and over the conflagration she had just unleashed.  The Jedi turned to the hate fuelled flames as she moved the two blades straight at beating hearts, quadrupling their kinetic energy with the aether.

The alien Jedi beneath her looked up stunned, turning quicker than Kiraea anticipated Kiraea pivoted to dodge the sabre, coming down on his shoulder with an echoing crack.  Her short sword struck straight into a Devoronian, her shikkar unable to penetrate the older bald humans armour, but the imparted energy enough to knock him back. 

Quickly glancing down to the struggling form below, she noted the race and with a feline scratch shredded the re-breather off the Kel-Dors face before stamping on its chest and summoning its yellow sabre to her own hand, leaving it choke.

Re-surveying the situation she flung the energy sword at the wrestling match Jarys had gotten himself into, only to see it defected by the recovered bald Jedi who was backed by a Phidian and Whiphid.  Kiraea darted to the side firing off a stream of lighting. 

Caught on their blades easily it kept them pinned as she moved the blue flames that were unaffected by rain behind her to surround them, they passed under her harmlessly - you could not be burnt by your own hate.

She felt Jarys relief in the aether and a second wind come over him.  Blue light erupted in the muddy pit as he activated a lightning shield, the wookie roared and leapt out, the smell of burnt hair filling her nose. 

Speeding straight to Jarys as he rose on unsteady legs peripheral senses caught the other Jedi approaching.


He came upon a disaster.  two Jedi dead, two injured, Yshrrk rolling in the mud trying to put out his scorched fur, Soryu trying to find a way to use the force to suppress the blue flames that surrounded him and the others.

Yoda had done little better, Rwh’an could not walk, both ankles filled with glassy fragments,  Hummu’s skin was ghostly as some kind of infection from the spear spread, Sintats right shoulder was broken and Karmins face was such a bloody mess he couldn’t see.

The female sailed on force wings dipping her hand to catch the male Aethan up, as they did the electrical shield that crackled around him was joined by one of her own.  They stood hand in hand, and raised their outer hands.

“DOWN!” he screamed.

Everyone dived into the churned mud as waves of lighting crackled over their heads, as the blue flames redirected to create a barrier between the Aethans and Jedi. 

Yoda gritted his teeth, tasting grimy mud as stray bolts scorched his armour.  They had done incredible damage for being so outnumbered…he had no confidence he could win this fight without severe losses.  He had little choice.

He leapt up hands spread and pushed back against all the lighting he could.  The stream twisted and distorted around an invisible ball, white hot in the centre.  Pressure from the conflicting energies pushed the air out sending the rain straight into his face.  Still he pushed on drawing on all the life Force energies the fertile jungle offered. 

He glanced to Soryu who was crawling through the mud, caked in dirt and gave a slight nod forward, he needed them to strike while he had their attention and energy wrapped up….Soryu rose to a crouch.

A flicker of understanding in the force…they were listening…A sudden surge in the lighting caught him off guard…yet it wasn’t to counter his energy but to prime…

He flew off his feet as the clashing powers detonated with a gale force blast of kinetic and electrical energy, tumbling over and over he finally ended on a tree trunk for the second time that night as he watched the far more graceful Aethans ride the pressure wave through the canopy and into the night.


Kiraea kept their momentum up with occasionally bursts as they sailed over the treetops on the wave, finally guiding them to a semi controlled landing in a small clearing where a rocky patch of soil offered no purchase for plants to root.

She scanned him to see if he was injured…apart for some bruising and general soreness he seemed fine.

She staggered up on her wounded leg, quickly pulling out her Quantam Entanglement comm, fingers rapidly sending out a signal to the others.

“You alright,” she called behind her “We need to move,”

No response,

“Are you injured,” she turned around, Jarys just sat there staring into the forest with mad intensity.

“War…” he growled in a deeper voice than she had ever heard from him

“I came here to start a life and they bring me WAR…” 

He burst up and tossed off his ruined top with a 400 metre plus throw over the trees.

He had come here to do good, to make something, To LIVE…and they hunted them like animals and offended a FEMALE!

“If they think we’re animals…” the words seethed from his jaw like the growl of a cornered vorynx

“I’ll show them a true Beast.”

...And so the sleeping giant awakens.  Even though Yoda was absent during the Night of Madness, one would think that he'd learn vicariously from the ramifications of others... OR, maybe this is part of his (brilliant) backstory that influences him, shapes him, makes him the grand master we see in the movies (again: the subtlety of Yoda's almost obdurate blindness underscores the traits that we see in the Prequel trilogy).  And now, he's got Jarys attention...

But, once again, it's Soryu who I feel the most about/for.  He's definitely conflicted between his duty to the Order and that to himself (and by that extension, Sofa and Miliea).  I have to wonder just where the Order would be had it listened to Jedi like Soryu... Instead, I'm reminded that this is (maybe not the exact same people but) the same organization that initiated and accepted the expulsion of the Mak'Tor.  I hope that Soryu can learn from this...

Once again LSG, awesome, just awesome  :)

I am echoing Dutchman.   Soryu, more than anyone else, is stuck between a rock and a hard place, his personal ethos in direct and continuing conflict with his Order.  I have to wonder how long he will be able to maintain in this situation.

And a Jedi/Aethan war?  Not good....    Jarys is reverting to beast mode....   

He had expected one of the ‘them’ to come along for the first shipment…but he could see the logic in keeping it as low profile as possible.

And then there was whatever they had done on Coruscant…he’d only been in contact with Maynard for the last month although apparently there were now more of them,

“Four new ones…one a girl Jedi, one a Guardian, Jarys, Valens brother I think,” Maynard had said

“Oh…joy” Lyr had replied,

“Maeson a farmer that looks more like a gladiator and Selaena, an older woman, Lyaea’s mother,” 

“They lucked out there,”

“Yes they did,” Maynard had replied firmly, Lyr liked him, an old thief with a shysters cunning, they would often toast to the dear departed Myzm while Xandra Maynard and Churi fussed over Nxi. Yet Colm Maynard had a deep attachment to the girls and seemed to genuinely love them…perhaps not unlike how Lyr felt about Nxi and Churi.

“Anyway, they are tied up so you’ll have to pick it up yourself…I’ll rendezvous at Station 3.” Station 3 was one of eight automated cargo hubs that ferried goods to the deep core by circuitous routes to avoid anyone following them. 

Lyr piloted the Deft Player as cautiously as possible, much like he had when Nxi was first born…odd how the presence of infants can do that. 

The cargo hold was crammed with of 20 ‘units’ as the Kaminoans termed them…10 male and 10 female infants floating gently in their tubes…the first of their new generation…he couldn’t help but think he was overseeing the start of the end of galaxy…yet when he thought of the galaxy he had lived in…the Hutts, the violence…perhaps that was for the best.

With the Aethans occupied he and Maynard decided it was best to use Lyr’s ship rather than a Kaminoan one or Maynards Chiss one, Chiss ships Maynard had noted with an Aethan maxim ‘would stand out like a pink Gormin’.

Gliding along the Corellian run for what must’ve been the hundredth time, Churi and Nxi were asleep in the main bedroom. Hopefully this would be as boring and uneventful as any other run…yet he couldn’t help but fear things were coming to an end…once they had the clones…would they still need him? And if they didn’t need him…how long before Kiraea was let loose on him….

RED!

Alarms blared and the lights wen red as they dropped out of hyperspace suddenly, jolting violently in his seat almost slamming his head into the console.

“What the Kirffing Frelling Tralk Licking Hutts Breath!” 

Hitting full reverse he stabilised, unable to make out any nearby planets or stars….but…

“Frell My Grandmother Sideways….”  He had seen ships like that when he worked for Myzm…Deep red with black highlights, the symbol of a perfect black sphere ringed in white and yellow fire…

The Black Sun…and worse…the Nova Corps…their elite.

He checked the navigation computer, about midway between Drukenwell and Rhommamool…this was targeted…someone knew he would be here…

The ship shuddered again, a metal screech sounded as Churi ran in and he heard Nxi start to bawl,

“What’s happening” she looked frazzled half dressed, her lekku twitching

This was it…his number was finally up,

“Sweetness we’re about to be boarded, take Nxi to the escape pod right now with the emergency kit…if they start to dock with you…”

He stepped forward and kissed her forehead passing her his blaster,

“Don’t let them take you alive,”

“But…”

“Don’t,” he said firmly, “Just go.”

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, then turned and fled.

As he heard the escape pod jettison and the ship rumble as the boarders cut in he had only one consolation – that the Vigo stupid enough to attack him and by extension the Aethans would get to enjoy all the suffering Kiraea had planned for Lyr.


“Lyr’Ca’Njo…why how long has it been…nearly twenty years…everyone thought Myzm had finally eaten you!”  the Falleen beamed at the twi’lek, “Shame how he died…nasty eyes burnt out…”

After Churi and Nxi had launched he hadn’t resisted, there was no point, if he damaged the tubes the Aethans would kill him, if he fought back the Black Sun would kill him…he only had one recourse…to try and talk his way out of it.

Fortunately…well probably fortunately, Lyr knew the Vigo from years back before working for the Aethans…Xithar of the Black Sun…

“Ah but I should’ve known you’d slither you’re way out of trouble…tell me who got you involved in…” Xithar ran a finger along one of the clone tubes…”This?”

As much as Lyr wanted to spill the answers to save his life for a few more seconds Valens programming wouldn’t let him…his tongue choked up and his head started to pound.

“Well now, I don’t remember you being to taciturn before…” the Falleen gripped his face in his hand…a mental push…but it wasn’t the usual push of Valens force powers it was…Xithar?

“Ah…now that is interesting…”  Xithar went on

“Very talented whoever put those blocks in…who was it..”

His mouth was frozen shut but an unseen impulse in his own mind spoke for him

“You…” Lyr spat, “You have no idea who you’re messing with Xithar,”

“Well I wouldn’t be so sure my old friend…” he replied nonchalantly

“They’ll rip you into tiny pieces and ram you up your own exhaust port…” he threatened with a voice only half his own…

“Will they indeed,” Xithar was staring at him in an unusual way, he felt a black, dripping wetness caress his mind probing at the oblivion cliffs of Valens mental barriers.

“Yes…very well made…but I can work within your limits Lyr…” The Falleen stood and held out a hand, the Nova Guard placed a stylish looking comm in it,

“You’re going to introduce me to your Masters Lyr’Ca’Njo,”



Now he understood the false name Myzm Auferbish…it was none other than his old friend Lyr’Ca’Njo…who else would term Myzm an underperforming waste of flabby flesh.

“Vigo,” Captain Tsen interrupted as he toyed with the small collection of personal objects in the Deft Players main bed room

“mmmmm,”

“We have recovered the escape pod, two female twi’leks detained, the ships Navicomputer has a hard wipe after each jump meaning we can’t trace where it came from…but we do have its destination,” he proffered a datapad

“Hmm…send a scout force see where it was headed then report back to me directly,”

“Your will Vigo.  All the clone pods have been loaded to the Hedonist prepped to launch to continue to the Demagol in 14 minutes,” the Captain finished as Xithar used his elongated nails to slice through a stuffed wampa - you never knew where people might hide their secrets…

“Very well, leave a squad to search this ship then scuttle it, I will depart immediately,”


His Twi’lek brother-in-crime had a disgusted look on his face dampening the mood, he should be happier like the brightly coloured wall paper of his Nimban mansion.  It was not as if he was treating him to the same favours as his Herglic friend –yet -though the wyrms were getting hungry.

“Oh come now Lyr, it’s not all bad…” Xithar gave the Sephis rear a gratuitous squeeze as she lowered a plate of perfectly chilled Arguyna fillet.

“The Green of your skin goes well with the purple you know,” Lyr replied having lost none of his humour despite being quite tied up and upside down.
 
“Anyway, good to see you’re still flying the exhibitionists flag Xithar.” Referring to the fact the Sephi was naked.

“Oh I try my best,” he added wiping his mouth with a towel provided by the walking oxymoron – Lyr’s Wife!

So far he hadn’t gotten much out of Lyr, the mental defences were quite powerful…nonetheless the particular items he had found with him…twenty force sensitive infants most now en-route to the Siniteen Darth Sicara on his ship the Demagol for analysis…well Sicara thought he was a Darth anyway.

“You really should try a Sephi Lyr, I have few spares around if you like, I never had one myself till just recently, I regret not trying before…very smooth skin, and those cute pointed ears!”

“How generous, I hate to break it to you but whilst you could normally sway me with sex…the programming they inflicted on me…”

“Oh yes I know, but I don’t want to flaunt it in your face and be ungracious enough not to share,” he rounded on Lyr’s wife, trailing his fingers along her lekku…

“Do you like to share too Lyr?”

“Go ahead you reptile, I’ve been used by worse than you,” the defiant woman replied

“I doubt that,” Xithar chuckled,

“You won’t get anywhere by threatening my family either,” Lyr added,

“Oh I know my friend I know…that I do for the pure joy of it.  And I know they won’t ransom you either,”

“Then why keep me alive,”

Xithar sighed…only a Sith could truly understand…


Twenty Force Sensitive Infants…three Twi’leks…two force prodigies and a Galaxy spanning network of companies and suppliers…Lucovis had to admit it was beyond even his considerable ability to map out the intricacies of it all…

That was why he needed such servants to assist him.

On the Altar before him, face down and naked the Advozse prepared to receive the ‘Red Masters Mark’ a rubbish ritual he had invented for the Darth –Wanna-Be’s that sought him out. 

Whilst the Advozse thought the three day ritual leading up to this moment was ‘sacred’ and meaningful, Xithar had only created it to see…well just how far he could push these fools – bloodletting, ritual scarification, degrading sexual acts….it was pathetic how desperate these fools were to become his apprentice. 

The muddy yellow skin was blotched and tainted with brown dried blood, Lucovis drew forth the ancient Massassi dagger…or that was what the Advozse thought it was…

Whilst Vectivus was his True Apprentice, every True Master knew there was a plethora of dark siders out there just begging to be ordered about and willing to do anything for the chance at becoming a real Sith – and so he kept a collection of around a dozen sub-apprentices…they were all too weak and foolish to carry the true Legacy of Bane…Though with the advent of the Dark Ones perhaps it was time to reconsider the Rule of Two…but THAT was a matter to consider later…

Still they made for useful resources and diversions in the interim…and when exploited to the full he sent them to hunt Vectivus thus ensuring Vectivus was still worthy of the True Apprenticeship.

“Born weak, and pathetic…take in this pain and rise strong,” he said in his most resonant voice slicing the back of his neck open. The supplicant did not move or flinch as he pressed deeply into muscle and down to bone.

Lucovis removed the Ziost Wyrm from within the crystal pyramidal container, it bit and scratched as he lowered it to the incision…sensing fresh blood it plunged into the wound causing its new host to squirm. 

If the Advozse died he died, but if he lived…slowly the Wyrm would be degraded into a husk by his immune system, yet it would indelibly dye the recipient with a powerful force ink – it was more art than science after all - which Lucovis could control. 

Over the decades he had gradually refined the Sith Alchemical practice of Wyrm control, devising new strains, some offered direct control, tracking, surveillance…it had taken dozens of slaves fear and deaths to get right, but he was on the verge of a true break through.

Losing control of bodily functions the Advozse thrashed about expelling solids and fluids till finally settling as the Wyrm gorged itself on his internal muscles whilst expelling its force rich energies. 

“Rise…” Lucovis finally added,

“Rise Darth Yncara to Strength and Power…”

The dry voice of the new ‘dark lord’ replied quickly

“The Force has freed me…”

Fool, Lucovis thought.

OMG....     He kidnapped twenty of their BABIES?

Lucovis, you fool....

*pops some popcorn and sits back to watch the fireworks ... from several parsecs away*

In all seriousness, considering the way they react to any attack on their women I can't even begin to imagine how they'll react to someone attacking their children.  And despite myself I find myself hoping that Lyr and his family survive this encounter ... intact.

Amazing, LSG.  Loving the threads of this! 

They had taken two jumps to a Lagrange point between the singularities – as safe as you could be in the Maw…Valens looked terrible…whatever he had gone through hadn’t just been physically draining - his drip virtually empty….mentally…he had been conscious…fully awake and concentrating for the whole three and a half days following on from five days plotting jumps constantly…that couldn’t be good even for an Aethan. 

After he had pinned Jo’Set, he had deactivated an astromech guarding the Mak’tor ship, then using the dead Ubese Capitan ident codes summoned their three ships and slaved them to their own…even wracked and depleted his mind was still sharp and strategic…the ancient Aethans had designed them well…in that respect at least.

He flopped back in his chair…she felt a little useless, so far all she had done was make sure there were water bottles and ration bars beside him.  In the cargo hold the black stone sat silently soaking up the light. Was Shilea in there? She couldn’t tell.

The sorrowful benefit of his state of exhaustion was his normal guards were down, she could feel his innermost emotions…

Guilt…despair…failure…inadequacy…

She had studied advanced counselling at the temple…her clinical judgement meticulously diagnosed him without conscious effort…he was severely depressed if not yet actively suicidal…

It didn’t excuse the way had had ostracised her…but it did explain a lot…twenty years of murder and lies instigated by genocidal levels of trauma had finally caught up with him.

Yet how could anyone help him…no conventional therapy would work on a mind steeped in a culture as…bizarre and complex as his…no one could offer grief counselling to someone who with good reason believed that the dead could be raised.

She mentally recited a calming mantra to steady herself…focus her mind as a Jedi Master should…it only partially helped…

“You need help…” she whispered

“I won’t ask what you saw there…but it didn’t make things better…if you want to talk…”

He stared blankly into the swirling blue clouds that rimmed one of the dark holes.

“I wasn’t born…” he said

That was…random…but she leaned forward to listen

“I was made…they made Aethena first…the two Aethenaeans…no mother...no father…she was to be a living Goddess…and I was the back-up plan…if she went bad I was designed to kill her.”

Milaea had told her a little about their peoples past…but this…to create a child simply to kill another…Sofa didn’t know what was more shocking, that she wasn’t really surprised by the fact they would do that, or that she had chosen to become one of them all the same.

“In lieu of that…they threw me against the Sith…I killed…and killed and killed…a weapon to protect Aethans…and I failed…I lost it all and I can’t bring them back…”

It wouldn’t have ended with Shilea and Cilina Sofa realized…it would’ve been Karintha and Yorna next…then Taran and Andis...names Sofa had never heard instinctually plucked from Valens mind…and on and on until every last one was back…

“I was made to fight, made to win….what use am I if I lose?”

She felt her cheeks wet with tears as she slouched down…his emotional state threatening to drag her down if she remained connected to him any longer. 

What have I done…my future...every cell in my body chained to a depressed psychopath. 

Half in a trance she pressed a bottle toward him and headed to the refresher…

Closing the light blue door she flopped onto the seat, head in her hands…

He raged and fought…trashed and screamed in his own head but still couldn’t move!

“I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you!!! You Scum bag Sith…you killed my Sister, my Master, my friends….you’re dead you’re dead!!!”

But his words never reached his tongue…the frustration was killing him…why couldn’t he move!! What dark power could keep him so confined?  .

It didn’t seem to diminish…hopefully Four eight would activate sub routine Light box any second and blow them and this foul place to pieces…

But nothing happened…

He simply floated chained within his own body watching the bodies float around the blue lights…full of rage and bile as they serenely drifted in one,
Two,
Three full orbits…

Over all the years, all the fights in which he had used the force on someone else…to manipulate their thoughts, pin their limbs…he recalled each and every instance as he floated there….

He had never stopped to consider what that must be like…to lose control of your own body…your own thoughts…

The violation…the indignity…to feel your own body rebel against you…

This he had inflicted on dozens, hundreds over the years…

Only now did he understand himself what it felt like - Trapped in his own body by someone with powers he did not understand and could not resist…

He had done this to others…

Now he knew what it was like…how could he ever…EVER…violate a person like that again…

Another full orbit passed by…he had lost count of how many that was…

Finally he crashed to the floor.

“AARRRRGGHHHHHH” the primal scream came from his very soul


“I want that trench finished in twenty minutes!  You, get those speeders moving!” The deep voice of Oma boomed across the camp. 

Dantooine force had arrived three hours after the skirmish, already they had 24 Jedi on the ground, tents, speeders and scanning equipment were being set up in five camps arranged in a rough circle on the edge of the 10 KM zone they had encircled. 

Delta2 fighters screeched overhead under the watchful gaze of orbital scanners, the humidity of the jungle rendered thermal detection unworkable, but their presence would deter any aerial extraction attempt. 

They would find them…it was inevitable…

Yoda gazed over the bodies beings loaded up for extraction, three Jedi dead, three injured, a poor start for his first engagement as Grand Master. Those causalities were on him, he had moved in too quickly without back up, now he had to make up for it by making sure that he got all of them – not just Jarys and the female – ALL of them.

At the far end of the Medical Tent Yshrrk was testing his arm, the glass removed from his wounds, his shoulder popped back in, the ministrations of three expert healers had him fighting fit once more…
 
There would be more deaths…it was inevitable…

At the other end helping Sintat was Soryu…he had been honest, stating the Aethan Jarys had communicated with him shortly before the attack…yet any communication was only adding to the suspicions they held about him.

“Master Yoda,” Oma’s gruff voice interrupted,
“Sentinel, speak,”
“Camps 2 and 4 are online, patrols have begun, as per your instruction six man teams at all times, the sensor net will be online in fifteen minutes”

She was a brutal woman, one of Kimars weapons of choice, but she was an excellent leader and strategist with a gift for logistics – like so many of Kimars favourites she was simply too useful to cast aside - whatever his other faults Kimar knew how to spot talent.   

“Scans cross checked with the Ardent every 15 minutes ensure, all camps operational within the hour must be.”

“It will be done Grand Master,”


His fists were pummelled into bloody pulps against the metal floor, eyes in an insensate red haze…he kicked over ancient boxes, stomped angrily on the Ubese corpses, slammed his own head into the wall…

How, How could he be so…so…shamed…dismissed!

He bit down drawing blood from his own lip in a twisted act of flagellation.

His apoplexy was only broken when Four Eight appeared chiming frantically.

He exhaled deeply ten times before his message sunk in,

“They disabled you…full reset…last orders overridden…so that’s why you didn’t…blow the station”

He fell onto his back and stared into the ceiling at the floaters completely spent…

“How long since they left,” 

A low thrumming beep

“Three hours!” he had been pinned by a force grip for three hours!

His breathing increased, he couldn’t stop himself hyperventilating…Valens the man who had killed Odjina, killed Ho’li had stood emaciated in front of him…and still managed to pin him for three hours…Jo couldn’t take it…

Blackness over took him


The empty ration bar wrapper swayed gently in the ventilations breeze, the scent of synthesized proteins and tangy heavy metals more irritant than appealing – the Chiss could fabricate the nutritional elements required but not make it taste good …his body nonetheless instinctually performing the tasks of recovery using the new raw materials without his conscious effort…

Designed to survive…no matter what.

His fourth level of consciousness absently worked through the implications of the Mak’Tor his eidetic memory recognised as Jo’Set’Mack from Odjina’s picts and the Ubese being at Sinkhole…a Mak’tor ought not to seek him for vengeance…this one was unstable…still he doubted Mack would hire Ubese…he would have to investigate the ships he’d slaved to his own and the body he’d taken with him…

Meanwhile his fifth considered the creature he had encountered in the Maw…fortunately it was trapped…but it would not remain so forever…

Slaying the Ubese with aetheric lighting allowed the Abeloth thing to siphon some energy off them, a concession for leaving Sofa and himself unmolested…there were legends of such being…called the Ones, or Celestials…perhaps this creature was the truth behind those myths…either way he would need to devise a way to destroy it.

Designed to strategize no matter what.

His third level sensed Sofa nearby saddened…confused…vulnerable…indifferent or unaware of the thin trails of pheromones she was secreting as she entered her fertile phase

Designed to reproduce no matter what.

The comm on his hip beeped a frantic little tone…their Quantum entanglement comm network…

Kiraea…he read the message then closed his eyes…the gentle uptick of combat hormones lifting his mood slightly…

[Myrkr - Yoda + 24 growing – Surrounded – limited arms – 75% energy - K]

He had underestimated the speed at which the Jedi had recovered, he didn’t think Yoda would return from Rakata Prime for another year at least - by then they would be long gone, all loose ends dead, buried and cremated.

I failed again.

Sofa felt the emotional lift – an ugly sense of purpose built on others death…he was an unrepentant murderer…she had known it when they were with the Jedi…but convinced herself it was Kimars orders - now she knew – Kimar simply fed the daemon.

Yet Valens was more than that…wrote her love letters, bought her gifts, watched trashy holo-dramas with her, they never went more than a few days without contact no matter how far Kimar sent him.  Supported her during the Child Abuse Commission - listened, never judged or pushed her – took all the ranting and raving she threw at him – didn’t even flinch when she’d hit him.

Even in this last round of hurting each other – his guilt was built on the fact he loved Her so much and couldn’t reconcile that with the cultural imperative of loyalty to Shilea.  Twisted every way he failed to get Shilea back and ostracised Sofa in the process.

He was broken beneath the weight of his own impossible expectations and crippling indecision in personal matters.

But that was him – what about Her – she didn’t want to be tied to a man who was so messed up, she wanted a new life, easy and peaceful with the slightly nervous but kind man Valens could be - who switched to a ferocious protector when she felt sad – find a home far away from violence and struggle, safe enough to start a family. If she couldn’t find that with Valens and the Aethans then…

Her mind and body were tired…in particular she felt clogged in a strange way, a tightness in her abdomen – she’d never had much trouble in the way of period pains before…but then she had just had a major shakeup and knew Milaea cycled every nine or ten days.

For now the physical congestion was nothing compared to the emotional one – Sofa just wanted to dissolve the stress away. But Life wasn’t that easy. 

Sighing she made up her mind, he’d stuck with her when she was in trouble…she owed it to him to do the same – up to a point.

The pile of empty ration bars twice as high when she had left, the bottle empty…Valens looked better…hung over rather than emaciated.

“OK…OK…” she gathered her thoughts,

“We need to get out of here…and you need to put this behind you…” she knelt in front of him,

“You couldn’t get them back…I figured as much or you wouldn’t be so…” placing a hand on his knee she continued

“You’re not a failure…you can’t expect yourself to do…things only a God could…” moving up she clasped his head in her hands,

“I’ve given up a lot for you…a LOT…give this up for me…”

He had already lost so much…he couldn’t lose Sofa as well….she was…just as important as any other Aethan…

“I’m sorry…” he whispered, “I failed you…”

She nodded and slowly got up to sit on his lap arms around his neck, pulling his head to her breast.

“Don’t treat me like that again…talk to me,”

He could taste her pheromones building with every passing second…Valens wondered if Sofa was even aware of just how much those hormonal patterns might be affecting her thinking.

“I’ve always been there for you…you’ve always been there for me…remember the badge…”

He recalled the little sad ewok,

“Hug me I need help,” he echoed as she squeezed around his neck

“I shouldn’t have come here…I should’ve…taken you to Hapes or Alderran…”

She leaned over to kiss his forehead feeling in the aether how contrite he truly was, and a willingness to let her lead him out of his pain – it would take time but it was a start.

“We can still go there now…”

“No we can’t…” his voice returned to its steely norm as he summoned the comm.

Sofa’s heart fell as she read Kiraea’s message.


She tied off another tightly wound strand of plant fibres, giving it a flick to make sure it was taught…another trap prepped…

Shallow caves dotted this region, they took up residence in a chamber at the centre of near two dozen water worn channels, most only the width of a leg, a few large enough to crawl through, emptying into the chamber whose roof was cluttered with dead roots, floor marshy from the recent rains.

While Jarys kept an eye on the Jedi, she prepared the traps and food…glancing toward the usual opening wondering when he would get back - she felt like a housewife…

They were growing in number out there…soon they would start looking in earnest…she had to be ready…but the Jedi had them at a grave disadvantage.

The shatter point healing had fixed her ankle well enough for walking and short bursts of speed – but by running on it so soon after injury she had made it worse…to fully set she needed additional Calcium and Carbon isotopes not found on Myrkr so her cells could regenerate the near diamond strength bone properly.  It was too dangerous to sleep, cycling 4 levels of consciousness on 2 off could keep them going for months if not years, but diminished their intellectual advantages.

And then there was their general nutritional needs – frequent high impact combat and healing would use up the unique amino-acids, minerals, metals and radioactive isotopes they relied up to function at an optimal level - and whilst they could digest almost anything organic – cellulose, bone, hard woods and survive for months without eating by using fat stores, their skins low grade photosynthetic ability, and rumination – Myrkr’s ecosystem simply did not contain many of the raw materials needed to completely recover what was used.

And Jedi patrols and over flights had scared off much of the fauna that could provide some trace elements they needed.

A subtle…growl…resonated in the aether…Jarys had caught the scent of an isolated group – the first skirmish had sent Jarys into a cold rage – in his current state few Jedi he had now tracked would live long enough regret upsetting him and threatening her.  There was something very arousing about having him as her unthinking, almost purely instinct driven protector.

Sparing a glance at the next sharpened branch she noted it was too short for the trap, she hadn’t been paying enough attention…Yorna was better at things like this…”Pay attention, more haste is less speed,” Karintha had censured her. 

A vibration between her breasts she pulled her comm,
[EnRoute – 34 Hours – V&S]

The roar of another flyover echoed in the hollows – 34 hours…ideally Jarys could steal a speeder and get them away – their precision piloting in dangerous jungles would allow them to escape pursuit easily – but if they had to stick it out they could – just…

Either way - She’d need more traps.


Quiet…finally quiet…

The dead silence of the empty station…Four eight had to drag him back to the Rain Song…he had been unconscious for nearly 18 hours after his berserk rage…Four-Eight had prompted him awake to make sure he got some fluid and food.

He sat in the silence as the shame of…defeat? Was it defeat to not even get in range to land a blow…no it was just…failure…abject failure…

He had been beaten without even a fight…shamed and broken…then left in a rage…he glanced at the cuts he had inflicted on his own hands from pounding the unforgiving floor…where was the balance in all this…

He could blame it on the fact he had been awake for nearly three whole days before then hours fighting Ubese…but Valens had if anything looked worse than he did…and still….

He should just give up…go back to Ha’Ona...back home…

No that was the quick and easy way…he couldn’t shut his eyes to a Sith Lord who controlled a Jedi master loose in the galaxy, and had done Maker knows what in this place…

It wasn’t just justice now, wasn’t just revenge…this was protecting the galaxy…but Valens power…Jo needed allies.

"Even the gods can bleed..."

I have to admit that this was one of my favorites: the insight into Valens as he comes to terms with the reality that there are things that he cannot do regardless of genetic imperative.  Added into the mix is Sofa's now-Aethan physiology reacting to her emotions...

And as far as Yoda versus Jarys...I'm not sure who I feel worse for.  Again: Soryu is really the only "innocent" in this situation.  I think this is going to hurt...

And Jo: his motives for revenge are understandable.  But now he realizes that he canNOT do so alone...

EXCELLENT!  Three disparate threads, all of them crashing towards an inevitable conflagration.

And it will hurt  ;)

This was a great installment.  Valens is starting to make more sense to me.  Talk about an impossible mission in life!  Beyond that, living in the knowledge that you were only a backup.  Talk about the ultimate second-child syndrome...

From the outside, the  Aethans might be better off in the long run if Valens completed his primary mission and ... did some re-arranging of the Aethan ethos.  ;-)

Jo'Set is also interesting to me.  Valens assessment is spot on - he's not a typical Mak'Tor and doesn't represent their norm, but he IS a Mack...  Unfortunately that means he's stubborn and determined to a fault.  When you hook those traits to a base motivation like revenge you get someone like Jo'Set, someone who loses sight of the Truth and becomes obsessed with the Lie - that killing someone will make the hurt go away.  *sigh*

I did like the introspection, as Jo'Set thought about what it was like to be helpless and utterly out of control of his own body - and how often he'd done the same thing to someone else without a thought.  Might be something that the Mak'Tor (and other force users, Aethan included) should consider....   :-)

“FIRE ON THE SPEEDERS” the gotal screamed, Hrmin redirected his aim from the zigging, zagging figure to the four stationary speeders they had come here on – green bolts smacked into the dusty grey metal leaving carbon smoked divots and sparking electronics.

Two of their six man squad were already dead – they had been burying another motion sensor along the circumference of the isolation zone when it dropped from a tree straight on…and through…an Ikotchi on a hovering speeder, downward momentum rending the Jedi’s shoulders backward in a way evolution had not intended.

Simultaneously the other Jedi still on a speeder was – flattened was the only way Hrmin could describe it – two force blasts of equal magnitude, one from in front one from behind pulped the Kubaz in the centre when they connected leaving a hovering drizzle of gore.

A grenade was smacked back toward them, Hrmin and the Nikto kept blasting the parked speeders to pieces while the Gotal and Human pumped at the beast to stop it getting on one of the two idling speeders.  They had already been warned that was what the fugitives were after following an attack on speeder patrol half an hour earlier. 

As the yellow bloom of the grenade erupted the whine of another patrol squad approaching could be heard over the crackling blast and thump of blaster fire.

Realising 10 Jedi would be too much the creature gave up on the speeders and loped forward straight at them.  Hrmin didn’t have time to grab his sabre, he tried to block the fist with his rifle – it punched straight through and into his left eye.

High pitched whine of grav-plates at speed pierced his ears as he fell, the cracking sound of the speeders forward cannons lit green streaks in his remaining eye it was the last thing he saw as the mud caked boot stomping down on him.


Tension knotting his muscles, jaw clenching back a low growl he sped through the undergrowth. 

After two days and half a dozen skirmishes in the jungles of Myrkr his body was a lattice of scars layered over genehanced muscles from a hundred branches, leaves and rocks scraping against predatorial strides.

Rage simmered beneath a hunters hypervigilance, higher cognition was turned to achieving primitive goals - acquire resources, secure territory and above all else protect the Female – her name sacrosanct in the instinctual cold fury that drove him forward.

Leaping up a large Oblio branch in complete silence, near naked form allowing him to move without sound and become more attuned to the rhythms of the jungle - he overlooked the East Jedi outpost…

Surrounded by a square prefab wall with two gates just large enough for two one-man speeders to enter side by side…inside the compound were eight speeders, six about on leave on patrol – each patrol took circuitous routes, never twice the same between outposts, and overlapping with other patrols to ensure rapid re-enforcement.

They understood many=safe - had numbers, co-ordination, weapons, ability to recover and rest, scared off fauna, many advantages to being in pack – but the pack was divided, afraid, angry but denied emotions, uncommitted to the hunt.  Their strategy was to trap, herd and destroy. 

Strength, Speed, Stealth, Stamina, Shock – combine with strategy – confuse, intimidate, attack, retreat, attack again – steal resources, destroy stragglers, provide false leads, keep their hunters chasing him…only him…do not lead them to den….protect Female. 

A minor success the patrol headed to the location of his last attack, determined to overwhelm and surround him.

Expectant growl rumbled in his throat as thermal, electrical, visual, auditory and aetheric senses mingled to create a precise map as the speeders flew out of auditory range and he shifted through the silken Tpta leaves that made no sound.



EEEEP EEEP EEEEP

Motion sensor alarms screeched across the camp, stun turrets swivelled online seeking out heat signatures a reflex matching the rise in the force as Elyze began the Force meld…beginning with surface thoughts and quickly delving deeper into spatial awareness and sensory integration.

Guided by the budding meld Twi’lek Sintat sprang into Juyo high guard in formation with a Rodian and Aqualish, three in melee three in ranged support as per Yoda’s training on the Ardent – this time there were no ysalimiri null fields to disrupt them - the reptiles having been scared off by the constant Delta-2 overflights.

A Pau’an and Devoronian Elyze didn’t know well bustled out of the prefab bunk dorm quickly positioning in the cover points as Elyze scanned the sensor map…

“Breach North east…south west...” Her voice barely heard above the constant alarms,

“What…”  Every sensor went haywire as the force built expectantly…

Then it began.

Both of the outpost’s gates were torn outward by invisible hands, the motion sensors slammed into the outer walls.  A metallic clang echoed and the Pau’an jolted aside as the Devoronian used the force to keep the bunk house from falling on him – something had smashed it off grav-lock foundations. 

Elyze flowed the worry in the meld into focus – they would respond to fear with clarity…There is no passion there is Serenity…in moments of conflict the code had always been Elyze companion and guide

The wall behind them smashed inward chunks of quick set ferrocrete raining down on the dirt covered muscular form that had shouldered it apart.

There is no Chaos, there is harmony…
The meld mind co-ordinated their fire on the beast -  baster bolts bleached from green to white in the midday sun as the figure wove through them on all fours loping like a vornskr.

A few shots hit but didn’t slow the charge, most slammed into the dirt. Sintant leapt forward with a counter charge – a perfect Juyo Vornskrs ferocity strike – fitting Elyze thought as the energy blade white in the yellow sun turned into the hulking males chest as he retched back.

As the tip of the blade connected the air crackled with displacement, lines of energy spun down the blade and onto Sintats hands, melting the hilt and sloughing off charred flesh from bone rising the stink of burnt meat – a touch activated force lighting trap.

Pain swamped the battle meld briefly, There is no emotion there is peace was her response to the violent act even as Elyze finger stung with the unfamiliar feel of firing a rifle over.  Awareness of the lighting trap the Aqualish and Rodian stopped their charges short – she pushed out confidence and also caution as the beast dived beneath the crippled Twi’lek likely to use it as a flesh shield.

A hand suddenly grasped both lekku…then..

>>>TORE<<<

The tear was not simply the physical rending of head from neck erupting a stream of heated blood, it was a vicious violation of Sintats already pain addled mind - thoughts and memories of long hours perfecting Juyo form were sucked out like blood from a wound – the backwash threatened to overwhelm Elyze and the battle meld, before she could close off the Aqualish was already grasping his head a the HUNGER of the tear ate at all their linked minds.

As she painfully regained control of the meld she saw the Aqualish back erupt as a fist struck hard enough to puncture the torso.

“Back! Block him up!” she called guiding the flow of energies that teetered on the edge of collapse into erecting force barriers to limit the beast’s movement as the Aqualish corpse was hurled forward. – No fragmentation - unity of purpose. 

The beast roared in frustration as their barriers limited its horizontal range of movement and their blaster fire got closer to hitting – it leapt straight up instead, flipping to kick the teetering 1000KG prefab bunk into the Pau’an, his legs smashed under the unyielding durasteel weight as the beast landed atop it with a metallic dent.

As they pivoted the boot came down on the Pau’ans head erupting brain and skull, Elyze once more pushed fear into focus each loss tainting the meld further – limit his movement on all axis with barriers, trap him and shoot him to pieces…a flare in the force – the patrol was returning – just a little longer - Hope overcomes Fear.

Bolts began to hit hyper-keratin skin tougher than most reptilians species scales, they drew back keeping their distance as the beast leapt forward with an ear splitting roar. 

Only 5 metres away still he moved too quickly to hit easily,  amidst swift diagonal dashes they saw too late the sabre in his hand erupting to life in the middle of a perfect swift-flank Juyo strike that split the Rodian in half, momentum carried the beast into an overhead swing down on the Devoronians rapid high horizontal guard. 

The beast was too strong, the Devoronians knees buckled under the weight, death stank the battle meld and Elyze had to end it for her own sanity.  Recovering briefly she fired at the beasts back, it left off the lock of sabres to bat the bolts back, the devoronian recovered rising with a high guard, as Elyze squeezed the trigger once more the beast strafed to side – the bolt struck the Devoronians sabre, animal hands grabbed the devoronians distracted shoulders and ratcheted them out of their sockets with wet pops followed by a head butt that collapsed the skull in like paper and soaked the beasts mane in black blood.

There was no peace…no serenity…only brute strength.

Elyze ran.



He let her flee, this was old strategy - instinctual – let one go - spread fear in tribe by recounting terror witnessed. In milliseconds he summoned up the fallen weapons, pulled back up the prefab bunk to loot all he could into a scrounged back pack.

The wind carried the Doppler building sound of speeders – threat – autonomic cognition determined 3.4 seconds till they were in range - crouching then tensed his legs exploded him out of the ruined wall at a full 200 KMPH run seconds before the cannons of the speeders turned the ground he had stood upon to a glassy heated crater.


Muscles contracted and released in fluid motion contrasting with the inelegant pounding of his feet they hit the ground.

Six hunters on metal steeds, dodging green blasts that split trees he wove between them he was restricted to only 75KMPH - the Jedi pilots drawing heavily on their precognition and aether enhanced reflexes to keep them safe at speed in dense jungle.

Keep low, sense what is ahead, remember what is around, plasma seared over his head eyes scanning for topological features for cover…

The rumble of his growl was lost to the crack of bolts as he sensed another patrol ahead racing forward.

The balls of his feet stung form twisting through uneven ground, every moment hyper-keratin skin took another scrape from a branch or bladed leaf and every effort to cut out to the side was met with a stream of fire as they herded him like a gormin to the slaughter.

Snap decision, speed, memory, dexterity greater than metal steeds - he didn’t avoid the oblio tree directly ahead, he ran up it, gravity to slow to curb momentum as his boots hit the bark. 

Green plasma ate carbon black holes along the trunk behind him as a knee powered backflip sent him over their heads, landing straight into a run in the opposite direction he had come from.

Too many, Run, Escape, fight later. 

Path memorized, replay backwards…15.4 degrees left, up, 135 metres leap….eidetic memory capable of plotting hyperspace jumps determined the optimal path to escape the way he had come, choosing the tightest gaps, Y splays in branches and moss slicked fallen logs to put between himself and the hunters, unthinking calculus on likely response times of the pursuers estimated a 15KMPH advantage. 

As he sliced through the rough bark between a pair of mated Indio trees he hurled half a dozen fallen logs up behind him as the Jedi struggled to make U-Turns to pursue.

Skidding under logs, leaping over hedges, strafing between rock gaps he rapidly twisted as they lost visual range to leap up and into the vines above, swinging hand hold to hand hold he surged to the north as they followed his last known direction back east.




“…too used to hanging around the temple perfecting their forms and meditating on balance, not fighting real opponents in the real world…”

“You seriously think you could do better than Yoren, or Gurrlum against the beast?”

“I don’t spend all my time in cushy Coruscant Council meetings, I’ve spent nearly two years undercover on the Ring of Kafrene see how long you last using pure Shii-Cho against Herglic Hover-Biker gangs with tremor blades in a bar fight….mark my words this beast is a jumped up street brawler whose had it easy against Temple pillow biters.”

“So why don’t you go out there and…”

“Will you two shut up…East outpost just got hit…patrols diverting, get on the watch towers this bastard moves quick,”

“It’s not just one there’s at least four of them, has to be - he’d have to run at 80KMPH to make the distance from the west perimeter to the East outpost – no one can manage that without collapsing form force exhaustion,”

“I sincerely hope I’m not around the day your overconfidence gets you killed Meerek,”

RAWWWHHH

“What was that!”

“Just a vornskr calm down,”

“This is wrong…we shouldn’t be here…”

“No dren, we should be giving Valens the Ruusaan Memorial Medal of Honour for having the balls to finally top kom sucking Kimar,”

“Eyes on the perimeter Meerek.”

“Nothing out there…they’ll hit the South one next, try and hijack the supply freighter.  I’ll bet its Milaea, man if I got my hands on that hot little coond….”

He paused…that was threat…threat to Daughter…. the cold fire that drove him suddenly blazed.  Silent hands stuffed the pack with power cells as he lay on the floor of the bunkhouse, concealed beneath an unconscious suppression cloak and rapid indiscernible movements between the shadows cast by the afternoon sun. 

“One more word Meerek and I’ll tell Sentinel Oma what a homophobic misogynist pfssak you are,”

….a Shadow behind Meerek rose too dark for the orange falling sun to cast as all eyes were trained on the foliage at the edge of the 15 metre cleared zone around the camp.

Muffled meaty snaps were lost beneath the call of avian species and the distant rumble of the Delta-2 Patrol flights.

“EEEEEP!”

Five Jedi immediately pulled their weapons and aimed at the North edge of the camp where the motion sensor activated, the stun turret hit a crashing form with a series of blue blasts before the squad leader finally recognised the broke bloodied corpse of Meerek.

“What in the stars….” Eyes followed a trail of blood from the body over a gap in the wall to – the body had to have been thrown almost straight up by someone inside…

“BRE….”

An impossibly strong arm wrapped around his neck - as the other Jedi stared in horror as the arm and a hand on his head worked to corkscrew the neck around.

As they raised their rifles to fire past the dropping corpse the blood covered beast had already leapt over the wall and in three bounds was back in the jungle.

“Another one…” Cous noted on the battle-net moments after sensing the deaths.

The Azumel sentinels nostrils flared in thought the gills beneath taking in the moisture of the fungi covered warm patch they walked upon. He kept his two lower eyes on the ground, top one ahead side swinging on eye stalks back and forth to patrol the periphery.   

The air was tinged green with spores that had a mild anaesthetic effect on the wildlife – putting them to sleep for the swarming maggot like worms to bury in and drag down to feed the maggots and then the fungi in a symbiotic predation. The dirt was warm with the metabolic heat of decomposition that catalysed the recycling of organic matter– and made thermal scans useless – this was the perfect place for them to hide.

Cous was not a ‘Temple’ Jedi like the others in the outposts, he didn’t flinch from doing what had to be done outside the code, a Sentinel with decades of experience and a scar or reset bone for each month to prove it.     

“Stay close,” Cous quietly ordered his squad, two of his eyes on the ground, two ahead and the other two scanning each periphery and behind in arcs. 

There were five, solid pragmatic knights in his squad, most he’d been on at least two missions with over the years.  The Council might not always appreciate Knights like Cous, but Yshrrk and Oma knew when their expertise was needed.  And against this enemy…Cous had only been on one mission with Valens five years ago…at first he thought him a nervous dithering wreck – that was before Cous saw what he did in the Spice Warehouse – while no stranger to grisly violence, it was speed and precision with which Valens had dealt it out that shocked a veteran like Cous to the core.     

“Tisk we have eyes on target heading to your location,”

“Copy,” Cous replied issuing quick precise hand-signals to position the team amidst the black steaming soil - the target would not go down quick or easy, their best hope was to wear them down, hopefully its attacks focused on the north east – likely to draw them away from this very location - had drained it. 

He couldn’t ask for a better squad short of Yshrrk, Oma and Yoda themselves…well and Gurrlum and Yoren – and it was their killer they would soon face.

Night was falling, his body was comparatively weak, still running with no time to sleep.  He ran with the wind into the trap the hunters thought their own.

Muscles were consuming tertiary short term energy stores, two levels of conscious thought had shut off from exhaustion, and across his body he felt the first scratchy burn of aetheric over extension. 

This was all simply data, a somatosensory cortex built for war did not experience pain or exhaustion as visceral deterrent like the vast majority of species – only as the absence and diminishment of resources.

Slicing through the foliage he felt no dread at the impending battle – there was no fear response, only sub-conscious risk assessment that trickled into his semi-coherent feral state but even when completely lucid he was psychologically designed to eschew fears weaknesses, resistant to the dismaying shocks it can induce.

Every motion, every thought was bent on achieving survival, with the grim knowledge that at some point, no matter what his biological advantages, what strategy he employed at some point he would meet his end at the hands of a better adapted opponent – he would live longer than most, millennia perhaps – the exact limits of Aethan genetic engineering a mystery even to their creators – but eventually the War for Survival would take him.

War – at that word a flicker of what might be considered existential fear in a lesser being illuminated the primal frontal cortex as his feet him the fungi ridden edge of the jungles charnel house and moist air carried the scent of six aliens to this ecosystem to him.

Jarys had hoped to know Peace one day – yet without war he feared he would be without his genetically derived purpose and function.

This thought yielded no competitive advantage in the moment and was dismissed along with variegated irrelevant stimuli flooding his senses as he broke through a rotten yellow leafed hedge and into the teeth of the Hunters.


His right middle eye stalk picked the movement even as his expanded force sense felt only the thinnest ripple amidst the decay and echoes of pain from the previous attacks.

Cous could not warn Jmmara in time, but the Chistori reacted swiftly his tonfa quickly raised as he flipped back doing his reputation proud avoiding the first and second strikes and getting his twin orange blades up – it force the animal to backtrack and reorient into a barrage of knees and elbows. Jmmara died well buying a precious 8 seconds to position themselves perfectly to counter attack before the beast slammed a knee through his long reptilian jaw.

Vibro-shurkiens from Hjjan, Force lighting from the barely Code affirming Yten Son and gravity manipulation from the dour ‘Joh Antilles’ whose face one could never quite see fully was backed with fire from Cous disruptor pistols and Llwen Nar’s repeater.

The beast danced through the assaults, four of Cous eyes focused on him tightly analysing the movements for signs of fatigue and weakness…feet seemed stilted when pivoting left, torso resented twisting too far to the right, he favoured the right arm.  Hjjan  felt the information flow, if not in words then in essence to feed back to the others – Sentinels were too independent to share emotions in a risky battle meld – occasional bursts of useful data were safer and just as effective.

It sought to gain on them, but they spread in a wide semi-circle so if he took one the others could bear down without risk of further friendly fire – risky but previous strategies had been no more successful.  The face beneath the blood matted hair was one of primordial ferocity Cous had never seen upon a human before…human…no this thing was not human.

On all fours like a fathier under electro whip it raced toward Hjjan - the co-coordinator whose bladed gauntlets lit with micro vibrations as Cous struggled to move his blasters fast enough to trace the dirt covered figure – Cous took a chance – aiming straight at Hjjan.

An instant later he pulled the trigger- where Hjjan had been was the rising form of the beast.


Instinct twisted his torso a painfully hard right wearing down already stressed muscles, the Kiffar before him lunged forward to take advantage – bladed vibro gauntlets tore toward his chest forcing a left strafe that angered the weary cartridge of his left knee.

Out of the blades he fell into the blasters from behind, his head dragged down by the aetherically enhanced gravity on his shoulders, lighting blasts inexpertly if passionately flung limiting his movement further.

“To be angry, aggressive is easy,” his grandfather had said as Jarys toppled off the log into the muddy creek bed after another frustration driven failure “But to be angry at the right place, the right time, in the right degree and in the right…that is what you must learn Jarys,”   

Now, surrounded, depleted, frustrated he might not achieve his sole purpose, to wage war in defence of the Female…this was the time to be angry.


Hjjin collapsed as the beast burst with incomprehensible speed to grasp and pull his neck forward and out with one hand as his boot cracked through the Kiffars knee.

Before they could react he was on Yten Son, whose lighting coursed around the creature that seemed enlivened with rage, a blazing light in the force. This strategy was no longer working – gripping his sabre and with a nod from Joh they charged in.   

Four blades sung through the moist air as their feet splotched on the rich soil knocking over capped mushrooms each spurting a tiny blast of spores into the air that harmlessly bounced off his teams breather units and his own densely filtered gills. Yten kept him off long enough for them to reach him. 

With claw like telekinetic grips they aimed to pin slippery limbs, Llwen Nar pushed into the mind – but found no complex mental barriers….rapid thought and fluid motion through the kaleidoscope of green and blue energy blades that lit the night bound jungle were one and the same – it didn’t have thoughts – it was beyond consciousness in the same way a bacterium in its drive to survive, consume and reproduce has no intent that can be manipulated, no stream of thoughts to twist -only an instinctual drive to survive as ferocious as its movements.

It could not last forever, even now Cous had seen only defensive movements and the small weaknesses he had seen before were now prominent – its second wind had burnt out and it was too weak to take advantage of opportunities Cous could see in the blinding flurry. 

Cous probed with a more aggressive stab – it strafed then pivoted from another blade but didn’t follow through to strike Cous exposed torso.

They had finally worn it down – as the seconds dragged and the tightness behind each of his six eyestalks built Cous refocused his strength to pass through the exhaustion of matching such speed and dexterity - the beast limbs seemed double jointed for a human - its ability to maintain balance and keep a firm centre of gravity no matter what position the raging sabres forced it to adopt was exceptional. 

As his own limbs began to weary from moving at speeds Cous joints were not built for he now understood how the Sith of Cygrat, the Beast, the Bane of Jedi Jarys had destroyed Gurrlum and Yoren, to keep up required almost everything you had – to get an edge pushed you to the limit – one on one he doubted anyone could last more than a minute.

But no one could fight forever. A few more swings, Cous kept a good spacing between the others ensuring they didn’t clash, their collaboration growing in proficiency even as their limbs tired, yet still they couldn’t get a hit…still…

A fairly basic thrust almost wrong footed Cous as the dryness in his gills built despite the humidity – how long had they been fighting for – three minutes? - the telekinetic and mental assaults slowed to a trickle increasingly ineffective…was it the anaesthetic spores? Or was it just they hadn’t paced themselves – yet how could they? Any slower and they would be overwhelmed. 

The beast was going to win by simply outlasting them – too late Cous realized this was what the beast was designed to do – to fight for weeks on end without sleep or rest, metabolic systems with multiple options for providing energy.

They were fools to come here – Cous was yet to receive a satisfactory explanation of what had caused Valens to turn on Kimar – Who was wrong and who was right didn’t matter in the thick of the fight – and yet it did – this creature fought for survival and to protect the other one – what did Cous fight for?

Doubts wearing down their minds the beast began pulling apart their bodies – the blows that felled them were not complex – solid combo’s of straights, hooks and knees common to any boxing ring – but the beast speed and strength never flagged – theirs did. 

Joh fell first, his weary arms just couldn’t rise fast enough to avoid the throat jab, Llwen was second, in the gap of Joh’s fall the beast skidded out to deliver a jab-cross-hook-cross to the side of Llwens head.  Yten threw up a lighting wall – it shattered like glass against a Force charged upper cut that ruined his face. 

The strikes didn’t just break bones and flesh – along with the blood knowledge like quicksilver bled into the surrounds and was taken up by unthinking osmosis into the beasts Vicarious-procedural and declarative memory cortex. 

Cous was alone drawing on the last dregs of his stamina to cut quick spins just to keep the beast from getting close, wondering where their strategy had failed- outposts, equipment, resources, even grizzled Sentinels….they had the beast running and trapped…



“I’m not trapped on this planet by you…” the throaty growl burnt through clenched teeth as it burst in between the Azumels spins to grip the left side of Cous face squelching the three eyes.

“You’re trapped in this jungle with ME!”


That Aetharians were superior killers was a fact Yshrrk understood – indeed had Yoda not reached his squad when he did Yshrrk doubted he would’ve survived his first encounter with one.  In the dim of the morning they had cleaned up after that first battle and the rains had washed away most of the vitae

But to see now the reality of their unleashed power visited upon others in the yellow wash of the morning sun was a shocking, sobering moment.

Broken limbs, caved in skulls and ruptured torsos lay scattered across the tarps they had been dragged in on from the outposts and patrols like the leavings of a slaughter house.  Vornskrs were prowling around the edge of the camp sniffing for an opportunity to get at the fresh meat.

Yshrrk raised his head
“THHWRRAH” the roar frightened them off

Already some Jedi called them psychopaths, mindless butchers…this scene did nothing to falsify such a notion - but Yshrrk knew better – after all what kind of discipline must it take to master such a level of aggression so close to the surface on so tight a leash…only unleashing at the perfect time and place, then retract it once more.

This was a not a mad beast as half the Jedi thought…this was an apex predator as deadly and cunning as a Wyyyschokk – willing to track its prey over long distances and patient enough to plot flawless snares.

Cous had been found alive if mangled, left to deliver a message as simple as it was chilling - You are not pushing me into a corner, I am pulling you into one. Their entire strategy was being undermined.   

“Orders,” a voice interrupted his thoughts,

<Burn the bodies before the local fauna can consume them…we will not risk landing a transport to take them to Coruscant> Yshrrk grunted in deep tones, the attrition strategy was not working - as the Sentinels of his squad piled up the bodies he felt a stab of disgust at the price Yoda was willing to pay for his ‘justice’.

“We should burn them out, we have them surrounded, five precise orbital blasts will light the fire we need,” Yshrrks deputy Oma had advised a day ago after the cordon was established. Yshrrk had not liked the indiscriminate nature of bombardment, hoping they might surrender…now….

“Wait we must, the others lured by their plight will be, but only if still they live, not until Valens arrives shall we consider bombardment,” Yoda had replied

How many more Jedi would die Yshrrk wondered before ‘Valens arrives’.  They had lost 12 already, the total strike force numbered over 100, a force of 54 kept on the planet via rotating out casualties…

How...

Many...

More?

His annoyance and pain squeezed his fist painfully.

He glanced down at his paws…on Kashyyyk a wookie who used his retractable claws for violence was labelled ‘mad claw’ ostracised and stripped of all honour…these claws were tools, for climbing and building…to split bark and raise up not cut flesh and bring down. 

For all this…this enemy…Yshrrk could not be restrained by such traditions, he was Jedi Sentinel first…a wookie second…a mere wookie was prey to a beast such as this, a Jedi Sentinel used every weapon at his disposal. 

“High Sentinel, replacement squad has arrived, ready to move out?..Sentinel?”

Foetid rot as the jungles microorganisms rapidly devoured the dead filled his nose. No matter what Yoda advised about keeping to six man squads, waiting for the others to come to their relief and fight in numbers, he couldn’t – wouldn’t be restrained by hierarchy any longer, not while Jedi were dying and he could make a difference.

He extended his claws and tore off his light robe shaking his head in the universal gesture of negative.

<I will hunt> he called back before leaping up a nearby oblio tree.

OK.   Its official.

Jarys.   Is.  Terrifying.

Made to make War.  To hunt.  To protect the female...

I so utterly pity these guys.   Men (and women) are so much more ... yet the strength these Aethans have been given is tethered to genetic imperatives that are so deeply hard-wired that they simply cannot get past them.  Its sad.  In a very fundamental sense, they've been reduced to animals, driven by instinct.   Or at least that's how they present. 

The day may come when they may have to choose - are we just this?  Or are we more?  Can we choose to act against our instincts?

But not today.   Today - Jarys makes war to protect his mate.

And the Jedi die...

OH

YEAH.  :o

What a terror: something as powerful as an Aethan with virtually ALL humanity (or the Aethan equivalent) turned OFF, operating on pure genetic instinct and (Karm said it best) imperative.  Maybe a zerg rush would do the trick; the Jedi are simply outclassed: Jarys is more powerful and more skilled.  Again: I think that this gives a bit of insight into a young Yoda... Perhaps this would account for his almost apathetic commitment during the Fall of the Republic: if he was so pro-active against the Aethans which only resulted in a debacle of epic proportions... Yeah...

LSG, I had to stop myself from reading this chapter too fast; it just FLOWED.  Wonderful job my friend  :)

Oh, and I absolutely LOVE the attendant pics proceeding the chapter  ;D

She felt a presence and primed herself, blue arcs of energy pulsing in her fists…but a rhythmic tapping in click code on a hollow log nearby told her it was Jarys…she relaxed and tapped back permission to enter.

He was like a Vorynx…intense, lethal…protective

In pure survival mode he would not waste any energy on unnecessary chatter, tossing over the weapons and food he had assembled as he poured one of the large bowl fashioned leaves over himself as a rapid bath highlighting the newly cauterized scars only slowly healing...typically it would take three days but the constant barrage and limited Real food intake had slowed regeneration, so far she’d only caught a few rodent like creatures to eat, most of the edible fruit trees nearby already exhausted. 

On edge...deadly, potent...if he continued like this he would become overly tense, a blade sharpened too finely...he needed release...

And she knew just how to give it to him.

Kiraea loved women, soft, gentle, playful, there she was the dominant one...yet she had other needs, to feel protected, to hold the strength of another in her hands to direct as she pleased - be the matriarch over her own offspring...for that she needed a male that could excite her, was an equal and could protect her and her babies at least as well she could protect them herself.

She needed a male like Jarys. 

With the aether she unzipped her utility suit, letting it slip off...unwilling to get her feet muddy she kept herself levitated as the outfit flopped onto a rocky outcrop. 

Jarys turned around uncertain what was happening on a conscious level, but his anticipation was building in primal mindset that had overtaken him.  She zoomed forward on Aephordaea’s wings, her pheromones seeping out filling his nose...he was hers now...all that strength all that power at her whim to command. 

His predatory mindset instantly switched to passion, his lust for blood now a lust for her.  He had spent the last two days protecting his female, now he would reap his reward. 

The unfamiliar feel of hands stronger than her own gripped her, the strange sensation of facial hair pressed against her smooth cheeks as his mouth devoured hers...she kissed back just as hard as she tore off his trousers. 

Flexing herself in readiness, her hand drawing him in viciously - she wouldn't be dominated...they would dominate each other equally...pulling together she kept them fixed above the dirt floor with one level of consciousness, another sweeping for threats as the others gave into the most primal depths of carnality she had ever felt.



If bad news travelled in threes as they say then she was about to get slammed. First Kiraea and Jarys on Myrkr and now...

The holo flickered with the looped message,

“Vigo Aur Hondo extends his invitation to Knight Valens and Knight Milaea to visit him at Jonex Mine Eight Eleven B near Bimmiel to have a pleasant conversation regarding the twenty guests Aur Hondo is entertaining…He requests you bring 100 million in block chain authenticated credits to pay for the bar tab the guests have already run up…Vigo Aur Hondo extends…” Lyr’s message repeated

The aether was filled with deadly intent…this Vigo Aur Hondo had captured the first shipment of cloned Aethans from Kamino…the first new generation…

“He’s just committed suicide by People,” Maeson declared arms crossed standing behind her, his voice repaired to normal now by Milaea’s healing skills.

“It’s obviously a trap…we have to assume they are already dead,” Lyaea added,

“We need to Help Kiraea and Jarys first …then together hunt him down and make him eat his own eyes,”

Milaea kept her own counsel for now….this had to be part of it…part of what turned them further on the path of the Oblivion Army - something thin and dark was squirming in the Aether around that transmission…she wished the others were here to help her work out just what it was…

“Hrmm…we can’t let their trail get cold…those clones are too valuable,” Melron advised her,

They were both right…and they were all looking at her for direction…the Guardian system might be slowly dissolving with Lyaea and Adaea having been trained, but they were still adapted to following the most competent and strong willed person, ideally a woman – and that meant Milaea.

She needed to break them out of that obedience…yet Milaea was painfully aware of the irony of trying to teach them not to obey a single person because SHE knew better….finally she spoke up before the weight of their gaze became overwhelming.

“I agree with Lya…they are already dead or as good as…but a kidnapping is too low end for a Vigo…there is something else he wants from us…perhaps…”

Her stomach sank at her next sentence…if true her efforts to reform them would take a massive step backwards…on top of the trauma of the Devastation someone stealing their children would irrevocably galvanize them against Outsiders.

“Perhaps he knows how powerful those children are…wants to know how he can get his hands on the templates…force sensitive Nova Corps would give the Black Sun an enormous advantage over the Hutts…and everyone else” 

Selaena opposite nodded, she spoke more frequently now she was back home and had Lyaea with her,

“Possible…Likely…still seems…” she made an expression of worry and uncertainty…still an incomplete explanation for how they even found the shipment…though even on Kamino there were bound to be loose lips.

“If they knew Lyr’s route…” Adaea’s soft voice chimed in, “they might know how to get here too…”

Milaea nodded, another complication…she had to defend the system, get Jarys and Kiraea out of the Jedi’s siege and find the bastard who had stolen the clones fast…she saw the pained look on Selaena’s face at the loss of more children…

<She would not let them escape, they had wanted to hurt their babies…her baby. Four Bullets left to talk to the outsiders in the only language they understood>

Another shift toward the Oblivion Army…Milaea resolved her course of action,

“Melron, take Selaena and Lyaea and go to Kamino to make sure the leak wasn’t at their end and escort the second batch of clones…Adaea how fast can we get the new ships online?”

“Ummm…the first one is ready, the others, maybe 3798 minutes…wait,” she looked up into the ceiling of the orbital stations war room, 

<Ultra-Dense projectiles sheathed in burning blue energy burst from the Gondurs magnetic accelerator cannons ripping three of the most advanced Cruisers the Republic could field to shreds of metal and man >

“3782 minutes”

Milaea’s second vision confirmed it…this combined with Myrkr was the catalyst…they were already sliding down the slope into the abyss, it was up to her to ram in a pick to slow them.

“Great, get onto that” Milaea broke out of distraction

“Maynard you and Xandra assemble all the Mark 1 weapons and supplies we have to spare and head to Myrkr, try and link up with Valens, if anyone can get them out of a Jedi blockade it’s him - I’ll go with Maeson to Bimmiel”

“Spreading ourselves thin…” Melron cautioned with a sigh, “but I concur…we need to move on each threat quickly,”
 
The others nodded approvingly…sometimes the only way to deal with a trap was to spring it….

It sat ill with Milaea what they would likely do to the Jedi on Myrkr…she had hoped Valens prediction they would be too traumatised after Coruscant to fight back and would follow Soryu’s path of reflection and a return to more traditional Je’daii philosophy was correct…but Yoda’s early return and aggressive response threw Valens otherwise reasonable assumptions out the airlock.

Milaea could feel the lines of Fate twisting into a confluence, a critical intersection, if they didn’t resolve these issues fast and without losses - if disaster compounded on disaster for them…

The Army of Oblivion whispered ever more strongly in the Shadows of the Aether.




Her tryst had given her a new found energy, now operating at 65.7% capacity, the hormones released after sex had boosted Jarys from 43.2% to approximately 57.9%, enough to take down most any Jedi out there apart from Yoda and possibly the gigantic Wookie.

While it helped psychologically it also used up some stores of specialized meta-amino acids present in their hormones, on balance it was the best choice, but repeating it more than twice would undermine its utility.

She kept tight against the trunks moving cover to cover, light on her still broken ankle, her senses open and presence low, picking up berries every now and then, eating hers and keeping some aside for Jarys.

It had to be admitted it was more than just a strategic decision – she did want him and had taken advantage of the situation – it hadn’t been perfect, differing pace, a little fumbling with the unfamiliar feel of each other…but one day under the Right Moon…

Pausing she pressed her ear to the ground hearing the vibrations of their machines discordant against the increasingly silent jungle - something had changed, they were moving in and now numbered over 70 – they were doubling down despite Jarys reign of terror. 

She tied off the trip wire to the rifle, slathered it with mud and the sticky substance she had found on a vicious looking plant that scooped up small mammals to eat – once they were out of this she would make sure to grow those on Aethas, after she perfected their genetic code of course…a nice little garden for her children to play in…

Children…she had a mate now…a husband by Rite of Dominance even if the formal Ceremony would have to wait till they were home…Yorna had always wanted lots of children too, Kiraea had imagined they’d all live together in a big house on the South West slopes lots of Gormin gently yawning them awake each morning…So far away now…

She had to get off this world – to have the babies her sister couldn’t.

Sliding silently along the Yrut track she looked for another place to set a tripwire - they were low on resources, three rifles, two daggers, five light sabres in addition to the rough cut spears she was churning out and Jarys pack of Vorynx held in reserve. 

But the lack of food and constant combat – People stored lots of energy in their cells, and extracted it more efficiently than Outsiders from food…they could survive months without eating but not with this level of energy expenditure and food that wasn’t designed for People.

She pushed off the trunk satisfied with her work amidst the worry…worry was not good for People…focus on the tasks - two more traps to set then she had to collect water….




Fifteen minutes – that was all she had between hyperspace jumps to get between the ships and send the messages she needed to.

First one first, Valens comm [4 hours out – V&S] she paused before hitting send, then swapped it round [4 hours out S&V] – it was her plan after all.

She had virtually no resources, one Chiss ship, three empty Ubese ones, a dead Ubese captain and a solemn conflicted Aethan who deferred to her expertise in conflict resolution.

Almost nothing.  A nothing she needed to use well to extract two Aethans from a war zone while not killing any of the people besieging them. 

The irony was not lost on her – getting away from violence and stressful negotiations where lives were on the line was one of the reasons she had wanted to leave the Jedi – now here she was about to go into a conflict zone and enter into a stressful negotiation with lives on the line AGAINST said Jedi.

Sofa had a thorough understanding of Jedi tactics, strategy and motivations, and experience in conflict resolution – the essence of which was never making everyone happy, but getting a result everyone could walk away and live with – sometime just LIVE – whatever she may be now she didn’t want to see the Jedi harmed. 

Still it would be a shift…she was truly on the other side now – once she showed up there would be no going back.  She looked across to Valens contemplating his own issues…not the life she had hoped for at all…or at least not yet.

Blowing out, she just had to hope this went the way she planned, otherwise she wasn’t sure she could live with any deaths on her conscience. 



“Are you sure this thing is safe?” Milaea asked incredulously,

“Of course it is Adaea designed it,” Lyaea replied slightly wounded Milaea would doubt them,

“Well it doesn’t really meet Republic safety guidelines if that’s what you mean….” Adaea quietly added.  Milaea quite liked the ‘girls’ as everyone called them, Lyaea was fun and clever if slightly capricious, Adaea warm and quiet, but extremely intelligent and talented, she had made Milaea a dress as a welcoming gift.

“It’s more…that…well looking at the specifications,” she glanced at the datapad Lyaea had given her while showing off the Aethena, the first ship of the new Aethan fleet, a light transport, some thirty-five metres long that looked like a black spear head, with no obvious view port but a slight rise for the cockpit some 7 metres from the front where the ship grew taller from the ferocious looking tip. 

“I’m not sure some of this is possible for a ship this size…” she went on

“Did you think it was possible to rewrite a living persons DNA?” Lyaea jibbed referring to Sofa’s transformation….

“Point taken, but that was something I’d done before…” she replied

“And I’ve flown this on test flights before it’s perfectly safe,” Lyaea said annoyed, “You’re upsetting Ada,” she said matter-of-factly, crossing her arms and looking away.

Adaea didn’t look upset…still…Milaea was still trying to work out how to deal with her new extended family…they got upset by odd things, but then quickly forgave if you were sincere,

“I’m sorry…I know you both worked really hard on this…and I appreciate you letting me take it out on its first real trip…” she thought for a moment, they also liked it when you offered to do something in return to make up for it…something that showed connection with the tribe…

“I think it would be fitting to fly out wearing the dress you made me Adaea,”

Lyaea looked back at her and spread her arms, this was their gesture of reconciliation and affection, amongst the women at least, Milaea quickly stepped into her embrace,

“That’s alright,” Lyaea said as they parted, Adaea sweeping into hug her next,


The white dress Adaea had made for her was fairly plain compared to contemporary Republic fashion, but Adaea had made it based on how her mother and grandmother had taught her.  Around her waist intertwined ribbons of blue and black, the colours of Cilina and Jarys family lines respectively.  There was something deeply fulfilling about having that connection.

She stepped forward toward the ramp to the Aethena, named after her former self…another connection to her people, her past.

The others lined the walk to the ship in their traditional dresses, in spite, or perhaps because of the crisis they were facing they needed to perform the traditional farewell.

Selaena with a yellow ribbon, Lyaea yellow and orange, Adaea purple and cream against their identical white dresses, Maeson and Melron wore simple dark leather outfits, their colours, brown and red ribbons on their arms.

She treaded lightly up the ramp, and paused at the top staring into the clean light grey interior, Lyaea’s take on Chiss interior design before turning around,

“Well…This is the relaunch of the Aethan fleet…” she struggled to think of something memorable to say…something to capture the moment in a way that was positive rather than combative despite the missions intent.

She thought for a moment then pointed over their heads and let out a trail of purple lighting…a mingling of healing red and destructive blue.  She used the aether to catch the end of the stream and build it up into a ball while broadcasting an invitation to the others. 

Everyone raised a finger and added their own streams to the growing ball of brilliant white that cast blue and purple shadows behind them.  As their curiosity built Milaea finally sent a thought to cut off.  As they ceased she detonated the ball. 

It exploded into a dozen arcing loops like fireworks and a shower of electrical snow over them. They stuck out their hands to catch the vanishing flickers of energy, Lyaea leapt to catch one of the larger streams before it vanished, Maeson used the aether to draw stars and hearts out of the falling snow-energy.

She smiled as their happiness filled the aether all around them, there was a beauty to using force lightning, something the Jedi were so adamant was a path to the dark side they refused to use it, to create such wonder and joy…especially after so much they had lost…and with this kidnapping...

Milaea could feel the painful conclusion they all shared after so much trauma…the rest of the Galaxy only wanted to hurt and abuse them…a belief backed by evidence and experience.

The small ceremony cost 15 minutes of their time, but it was worth it to give them a psychological boost before they entered the fires once more.

The branch poked along the ground tentatively as though unsure it was solid beneath…finally it encountered resistance, she pressed harder.

TWAAANNNG

A crude but effective trap made of supple young plant stems and dotted with shards of metal attached with a natural glue that dripped off carnivorous plants

It would not have been fatal, would not even have pierced her shin plates…but that was not the point   laid across the rough path in the woods it was there to show them they could put a trap there.  It was a psychological assault on their patrols to add to the fear generated by the males vicious and brutal attacks.

Since Yshrrk had gone rogue to ‘hunt’ the male six hours ago, Oma as acting commander had brought in the cordon to an 8 kilometre radius immediately after.

Three teams of six were on foot, two speeder teams of six criss-crossing between them as the other eight teams moved the outposts forward behind them.  She now had 78 Jedi boots on the ground, 48 speeders, 92 rifles, 12 heavy turrets, and nearly 600 kilos of promethium for when Yoda gave the order to start burning. 

Yoda was many things, but he was clearly not a good commander, he was being wasteful with their lives and resources.  This could be over in ten minutes – orbital bombardment with speeder teams ready to mow down anyone fleeing from the flames, then a 12 man team to search the blackened earth for the bodies.

Oma had no doubt that frustration was why Yshrrk had gone ‘rogue’.

But no, Yoda wanted to keep them trapped, to lure Valens and Milaea.  Oma knew Valens, he was almost a friend - if he did arrive, it was not Valens who would be walking into a tr…

She dove to the side as a blaster erupted, six shots hammering into a trunk she had just walked past,

“DOWN!”

“Left full fire”

“Belay that” Oma called shuffling through the undergrowth following the trip wire she had snapped - too lost in her thoughts to notice the blaster rifle stuck to a tree trunk and covered in mud and leaves.

…Into a Trap was the unfinished thought.  The Aethans were canny, deadly and efficient, everything a warrior should be. 

You did not – cannot - simply ‘kill’ an Aetharian as Yoda called them. You do not risk a fair fight, you gather every resource you have and deploy it without mercy as quickly and accurately as possible before they even know you are coming.  Yoda by taking 12 men on the first skirmish had failed, the enemy had escaped and killed 15 Jedi in hit run attacks since.

And Oma knew Valens, IF he arrived – and that was a huge IF – the Jedi would learn to their pain that if you do not kill an Aetharian with your first strike You. Are. Dead.

Oma would not allow that.  If she had to make the call, override the Grand Masters orders…relieve him of Command…she would.

20 was her limit, once 5 more Jedi were dead or wounded, and if Yshrrk was not back with Jarys head on a spike….

“Press on, eyes open, senses alive, keep off the Yrut tracks,” she ordered. She would not waste her resources, she was more than willing to take losses - but only when it was the price of victory.




Clever bitch…not to mention big and strong, a solid woman Kiraea could respect even if on opposing sides.

Kiraea kept prone as the Jedi patrol wandered past…they were pushing them into an ever smaller cordon…there was virtually no food left in this area…Sofa couldn’t come soon enough.  Kiraea might not really know Sofa, but she trusted Milaea’s judgement about her.

Fingering her combat knife she wondered if she should take the Jedi woman out…the shock should let her escape from the others…and it would significantly disrupt their operation, the Jedi Woman dominance was palpable. 

And yet this dominance was also a source of friction with other Jedi, even amongst this squad – they respected her ability but did not agree with her methods despite having no better solutions.

Kiraea eased off her grip – let this one live, she was a cancer within the Jedi, a raw nerve to be stoked and encouraged not removed.

Let your enemy devour herself.




Was it worth it?  Was 15 Jedi dead worth it?

It had to be - or their sacrifice was in vain.

Yet who was he to sacrifice them…Grand Master…a title he had wanted, that he had feared.  A title that tasted more bitter with every passing moment.

Yet Justice had to be seen to be done, you cannot attack Coruscant, desolate the Jedi temple and simply walk away.

Yet how many lives was that justice worth. Did each death add to the tally of lives Valens had to answer for, or to the tally Yoda would have to answer for?

Yet, Yet, Yet…always something else to consider, some other way of seeing that lead to doubt and uncertainty….only a Sith may deal in absolutes, but sometimes Jedi envied their singlemindedness.

He sat silently on the grass just outside the command tent breathing in the cool air of the jungle, illuminated in the night only by the blue strategic command holo behind him, currently showing the ships in orbit, two cruisers, and twelve fighters above their position, the other cruiser on the far side of the planet with the rest of their fighters to intercept any attempt to cut in from behind with a rescue attempt.

No…not rescue…these were not hostages, they were fugitives, violent killers who needed to be brought to justice.

Bait to lure the true enemy…

And He was coming.

Nice.  A great view into Milaea's attempts to reform her people - and how it is being undermined by more Outsiders looking to profit by harming them.  "Suicide by People" indeed!

Valens and Sofa will be a handful for Yoda's Jedi.  Probably to much.  Kinda makes me wish Valens had been right - that Yoda would have decided to back off, let them go, and returned the Jedi to teachings closer to the original teachings of the Je'daii philosophy, but that didn't happen.  So Yoda will get his wish - and Valens will fulfill his purpose.

*sigh*

I don't like Oma's methods, but she's right about one thing - if they'd just hammered them from orbit with a saturation bombardment to begin with they'd probably have killed Jarys and Kiraea in the first minutes.  That might have been their only chance to survive...

To late now....

To quote Ellen Ripley:
"I say we take off and nuke the entire site from orbit.  It's the only way to be sure."

I have to agree that Oma is a better tactician than Yoda and Yoda--for all his adherence to the Jedi Code--has become personally compromised.  And let us not forget that this is against Jarys and Kiraea, both deadly enough to be sure.  But they have yet to face Valens...

One thing that I am REALLY looking forward to is "Aethan vs. Wookie"  I know how things are going to work out with Ryshhk in "Schisms" but with Yshrrk?  I think that will be a fight that even Jarys can respect...

One thought: perhaps the "Oblivion Army Future" is being visited in the "Mirror Empire" thread (or at least ONE version of it  ;)).

I'm hooked LSG  :)

Stars streaked back into reality around the ship.  She closed her eyes as she typed in the last message she needed to send, hoping beyond hope everyone would react the way they should. She had back up plans…but the more variables she introduced…

She hit send with the dead Ubese captains thumb print.

Sofa leapt up shaking her shoulders and rubbing her legs from sitting, something still felt odd in her abdomen…a tightness and pressure…like a menstrual cramp but…different.  She could deal with it later. 

“You know what you have to do?” she said to Valens who was slunk in the chair behind her,

“I know…I’ll try…I just…” he looked askance at the grimy plating of the Ubese ship,

“Don’t want to fail anymore…”

This was not the best time for a breakdown…but then when was it ever a good time.

“Hey,” she pressed her hand on his face and kissed his forehead, a mirror of how he had gently treated her when she was in the midst of her own depression.

“You’re not a failure, you’re a good man, we’ll get out of this and get back home, make the life we want together…alright…” she pulled up his arm and flicked his chrono,

“Alright synchronize,”   



Gliding through boughs and vines the furred predator had not touched the earth in hours…in his mind it was as taboo as the shadowlands of his home - this belief forced him to stay elevated, denying his prey conventional tracking indicators. 

Fur smoothed his movement and kept his skin from abrasion against the barks and carnivorous plant life and dissuaded at least some of the curious insects from trying their luck…still he felt the pinch of lice like creatures burrowing amongst his locks by the warmth of his throat.

These were a minor consideration…his eyes moved in precision sweeps seeking any movement…the jungle was different from Kashyyyk…but there was a rhythm to all such eco-systems…his prey knew this as well as he did…

So far no definitive sign…only thin trails of a sweet scent…the scent of mating…the prey had mated…unusual but not illogical…he suppressed his own desire to emit a guttural sonorous call to his own mate…she would not hear him…

Yshrrks mind flicked briefly out of his primal meditation…the worry for his family, a family he could never acknowledge or lose his position within the Order…yet also the greatest motivation he had to ensure the Order was strong and stable…by serving the Order he protected his family.

A dull whine carried against the wind…metal skimmer beasts - speeder bikes…six…a patrol…the force murmuring in time with the approach…this prey understood…to pick off small targets was easy – it produced no fear in the pack – picking off large targets….



Her scent was still on him...it had been rough, rich and fulfilling...given him a flood of hormones that soothed his wounds and accelerated his healing, re-balanced his brain chemistry to avoid toxic build-ups of stress hormones...it had been both attraction, reward and survival strategy as all mating should be.

If not before, now he would truly stop at nothing to protect her.  She used her sexuality as tool to achieve her aims...this was a true matriarch he was blessed to be mated to...perhaps that was pheromones influencing his thoughts...it didn’t matter Kiraea would have her total victory - a battle he was happy to lose.

Now the battle he had to win…the furred predator was following him…this one was clever, big, strong, fast, it kept elevated.  He had not been able to pinpoint it…but managed to stay a step ahead…he drew it further and further away from the female toward where the machines circled their invisible fence of sensors.

He kept low, primed and taut as the howling boxy machines approached. The traps were in place, the energy blades of their pack mates positioned exactly 17 metres from the trip wire, one second at 60 kilks between springing and activation…he knew they would sense the danger – clever ones would slow or speed up.

But every herd had stragglers…



She was about to enter high orbit when the signal came through

“Andis 2 this is Taran 2, come in,”

“huh…oh…Uh…this is Andis 2, I think…”

“Sofa Neirai? This is Colm Maynard, Milaea sent us to resupply you, we have two crates of goodies ready for orbital drop”

“She did…great…” OK this was good, not part of her original plan but she would use it,

“Is Valens there?” her mind was already on fire, going at speeds she couldn’t even imagine before, calculating descent vectors, intercept paths…she barely noticed her fingers flying across the console typing a message

“He’s…busy…I’m sending you instructions, it’s faster than me explaining, synchronize at 03:51:45 till zero”

“Done, receiving communique…” he paused for moment,

“Understood will await for go,”

Alright…backup,

Now the hunt was really on. 



The metallic whine of the speeders approaching doubled on itself with the Doppler effect, it was out of place in this jungle, an intrusion of steel and science into a world of verdant vital life.

Arm over arm he closed in silence trying to feel out his prey…he was near, the area was troubled in the force…muddy and bubbling with danger…yet diffuse…the threat was everywhere and nowhere. 

Pressure on his mind from the approaching Jedi scanning the force in advance of their mechanical sensors…it was folly for those untrained in such life rich areas to expect to detect a sentient mind…a true predator kept his cognition to the minimum necessary to survive and catch its prey, more than this was too easy to detect - unnecessary…

To do that which is unnecessary is death.

Eyes swept, nose sniffed, fur raised to detect whiffs of movements in the air…

Yshrrk knew there was a trap…but to warn the others of his pack would cause his prey to flee…the calculus of the pack, to sacrifice a few to protect the whole…in another frame of mind his decision might be different…here there was no decision, no thought - just a predators instinct.

The traps sprung.

Two speeders slammed their breaks skidding to the side as four sabres lit up metres ahead on the path they were travelling, a third hit the grav boosters to flip over the green blade, the fourth did not react quickly enough, the boxy speeder sliced apart flying in cauterized chunks to either side of the buried blue sabre, hunks of a leg flying off into a tree as the pilot - passed out from the pain – failed to avoid smashing her out of control speeder into a tree with an orange flash.

As the first two reasserted control, the third crashed down as a body flung itself from a nearby dark leafed hedge – perfectly timed for the speeders velocity and angle - the skin beast slammed the Jedi off with horrific bone pulverising force.

Using the Jedi body to cushion his impact against the trunk Jarys felt the organs and bones mash into a slurry under leathery reptilian skin. 

Not yet…his muscles tensed but Yshrrk would not move…the prey was in the heat, the momentum was his, to strike now would put Yshrrk in its path…

Pushing off the corpse as it skidded down a trail of brown blood onto the off white bark, the skin beast vaulted toward the two that had braked, behind the remaining two of the six man speeder squad opened fire, heavy thumping of the blasters split tree trucks and lit small fires in chest high bushes – none hit the black blur target.

The four sabres from the trap sprung into the air and sailed straight at them, aimed for the heart as the beast made a physics defying leaping corkscrew through the air to one of the closer speeders. 

The entire copse lit up blue and white as electric fire blasted from his hand to turn an entire speeder and its rider into a flaming heap that stank of charred meat.

The blast cost the skin predator 10% of his power, but to shock and annihilate an enemy was worth it, three prey were down, three remained – he needed only one speeder intact.

Coming out of the corkscrew spin the skin predator landed on the front of the speeder fist flying forwards, but swiftly pulling back as the Jedi’s sabre lit up – how he was doing this and co-ordinating four sabres chasing the other two speeders was beyond the furred predators capacity to comprehend, but he could sense it was draining the already tired skin predator…

Now Yshrrk knew…now he was turning from predator to prey.

The H’nemthe Jedi was overwhelmed, trying to shake the huge creature from his speeder, jabbing his sabre with one hand while trying to keep it from flipping under the unbalanced weight on the front. 

Despite the close range he couldn’t get a cut in, the beast – skin already covered in small slices, burns and half closed wounds - was trying to shake the speeder over.

Yshrrk zeroed in on the perfect moment, he needed his prey to be completely consumed by its hunt before he struck.



The essence of a compromise was not trying to find a solution in which each party was happy with the outcome, rather working toward a result that each party could live with however grudgingly. 

And that was the essence of her strategy, to ensure both sides got a result they could quite literally live with. Sofa was the only one who could do it – the only one who could still bridge the gap between the Aethans and the Jedi, Valens knew this which was why he deferred to her – he had no more desire to fight than she did.

Slowing the rented speeder as its head lights illuminated something other than brown grainy trunks in the dimming light she saw a tall and broad figure that one might mistake for a wookie or Lasat, but Sofa knew better.

Pulling to a full stop she killed the power and let the stands thud down onto the mushy ground.

Sentinel Oma stepped forward as she raised her hands high and wide, to show she was not a threat.

“Master Neirai…I thought you were dead,” the deep almost male voice of Oma reverberated above the sing of insects that called for mates or screeched to frighten away predators in the dusk.

“From a certain point of view I am…” she paused weighing up the feel of the woman in the aether,

“It’s good to see you Oma, it’s been a long time,”

Oma nodded, “It has…” she gestured her forward,

“So I take it you’re here to negotiate,” Oma showed no signs of feeling threatened by Sofa, and walked side by side, not even bothering to check her for weapons…either she didn’t care or more likely the Sentinel knew she was unarmed by other means,

“I hope to,”

“Good…this has gone on long enough…still a little way to the camp…I thought it would be Valens or Milaea…pleasantly surprised it’s you,”

Sofa wasn’t sure how to take that, did she think Sofa was a lighter touch, or easier captive? Oma’s tone soon confirmed her suspicions.

“But it is only fitting, your bargaining power is far stronger with the object of Yoda’s irrational desire still out of reach.”

Sofa’s brow furrowed as her newly advanced mind worked through the meaning of Oma’s words…she recalled Valens and Oma had often trained together and teamed up for group assignments at the temple, both were outcasts socially and as odd a pair as they were it worked for both them….ah…of course…Oma still felt sympathetic to Valens.

Oma seemed to pick up on her thoughts,

“Old Kindnesses Sofa…true friends, do not forget,”



The Ishi’Tib finally managed to blast one of the sabres out of the air, the Arcona capable with telekinesis had disabled the other three, they swung back around as the H'nemthe’s speeder finally toppled, he put up a valiant effort for being half crushed by its unyielding metal weight, but the beast knew no mercy, with two swift kicks his head was dislocated from his neck and arm flattened to the dirt. 

With malignant grace the beast flipped the speeder back upright.

He finally had a speeder, only two prey remained, one hand pulled the side-saddle packs blaster, the other held the sabre, his mind had the controls.  Speed was of the essence now, every telekinetic movement as frugal as it was precise to cut these down before their fellows arrived…he would add their sabres to the collection he placed before the female, totems of his dedication and worthiness to mate.

Just before the Ishi’Tib opened fire Yshrrk struck, retracting his claws he slid through the air paws melded into a single heavy fist straight onto the…

Wait…

Pivoting into a back-flip kick Jarys dodged the tremendous force of the double handed hammer blow, it cracked the speeder in half, the shockwave knocking him back.

The other Jedi paused, not wanting to risk hitting the High sentinel as the true battle finally began.

“Sof…” Soryu paused as Yoda glared at him as she entered…he wanted to run up and hug her…check she was alright…but now was not the time.

“Master Neirai, unexpected this is,” Yoda began as Sofa stood firmly in a formal at ease position across the deactivated holo-table, Oma a sturdy presence behind her

“Master Yoda,” she replied with a short bow, “Welcome back,”

The Grand Master ignored the genial greeting, “So what do wish to discuss,”

Sofa breathed in deep as she always did before a trying undertaking ever since she was a young girl and began,

“This situation is not benefitting either of us and can only end in more bloodshed, we propose you withdraw your forces immediately and allow our people to be extracted from the planet within two hours.”

“And who is we?” Yoda probed forcing her to say it,

“You know who we are…Milaea, Valens and the others” Others she felt was sufficiently vague. Recalling Maynard’s words she made her case

“Yoda…they’re children…frightened children, you know that, scared of anything and everything else in the galaxy, reacting in the only ways they know how - like a toddler, throwing violent tantrums…”

She sighed once more wondering if joining them wasn’t a huge mistake.

“They’re not a threat if…”

“Not a threat!” Yoda screeched indignantly,

“Ten thousand dead on Coruscant and not a threat are they!” He chuckled his rising laugh so familiar to every padawan,

“Sixty Jedi dead and not a threat are they!”

He shook his head

“Seduced by Valens lies you have been,” his emphasis on the word ‘seduced’ was oily and vile – from such a venerable master - it showed just how emotionally invested Yoda was.

He gazed over her probing with the force,

“Body, mind and soul, all you have allowed Valens to pervert, fallen you are Sofa Neirai, indulged in carnal depravities, pleasure your master was and path to become puppet of a greater one…a shame upon your Master you are,”

Both Soryu and Sofa stayed silent but felt their stomachs sink with bitter annoyance at Yoda’s words…Soryu to hear his daughter in all but blood so insulted, Sofa to be upbraided for her sexuality.

“Be that as it may…” Sofa replied evenly after a silent mantra of calming past her lips, filling Soryu with pride that earned him a glance from Yoda as brief as it was angry.

Tone reverting to a soothing feminine she went on,

“They want to run away and hide, let them and this can all be over, it’s not a perfect outcome, but we both get to walk away alive if you do,”

Yoda smiled, she had nothing to negotiate with, that Valens had sent his concubine to negotiate just showed the weakness of his position…still he knew his former apprentice would have a backup plan…whether Neirai knew it or not he had to try and extract it from her,

“Allow these criminals to escape possible is not, Justice my duty and privilege to serve, a peaceful end possible is I agree,”

His eyes glinted with the righteousness of his position

“Surrender peacefully and all of us may depart, you as well to answer for your role in the attack on the Coruscant. Sentinel!”

Oma stepped forward and pulled Sofa’s arms behind her, she didn’t resist as the stun cuffs were put on,

“You’re making a big mistake Yoda, I’m offering you a peaceful solu…”

“Peaceful!” he rose indignant “Peaceful! What know you peace, war the only language Valens speaks now…wasted my words are upon you, a mere mouthpiece for your master…”

“You’re seriously going to turn down a chance for peace, a Jedi Mas…” he cut her off again

“Enough, Sentinel this traitor remove, to the Prism have her sent…”

Sofa could only shake her head, she had thought he was wiser than this, she had thought a Jedi Master would take the first chance to end hostilities and limit further loss.

Clearly she was wrong.

“One hour Yoda…get everyone out of here!…You’ve been warned,”

“Your threats as vacuous as you loyalty Neirai,”

Soryu met her eyes as Oma pushed her out, his face fallen and heart broken. 



“How many?” Soryu asked quietly after Sofa was ushered out to captivity.  Yoda had kept him like a pet these last three days, where he could monitor him, now…now Soryu was angry enough to give him something to really worry about.

“How many what?” Yoda snapped

“How many deaths will it take till you know that too many people have died?”

“Upholding the Law, administering justice a price must be paid,”

Soryu could only shake his head, his friend simply wouldn’t face the Truth, Yoda’s own truth.

“This isn’t about the Law or Justice, if it was you could’ve simply assigned Yshrrk, but you came yourself, ask yourself why, and how many people need to fall for your vanity,”

“To follow the Orders mission, vanity is this now?”

“This Order’s Mission…is not the Jedi Path” he replied quietly to a guilty drop in Yoda’s face as he looked away from his own Truth rather than facing it.

Soryu stood and with one last shake of his head left the Grand Master in the dim - artificial light – for none came form the Jedi Grand Master in that moment.




He could not allow the female to be at risk.

He used the Juyo he had drunk from the Twi’lek to attack the furred predator, it was quick for its size – and he was slow from his exertions, it caught his wrist, claws dug into his forearms forcing him to drop the sabre.

Jarys had become too distracted, had missed the signs until it was almost too late…now he was at risk, and if he was at risk the female was at risk…

The skin predator twisted trying to get a line on him with the blaster, the furred would not allow it, crushing the tiny metal thing with his paw. 

Devoid of any weapons but their bodies the fight was purified.

Fist met claw, knee met elbow, shoulder met palm – each blow pushed out a concussive wave that blasted leaves from trees, each stomp to ground themselves and swap stances left a palm deep dent in the soil.

The Ishi-tib and Arcona confirmed re-enforcements were en-route then dismounted – this was it, they finally had him, yellow and green sabres lit as they circled a melee moving faster than the could track.

Blood rained onto the leaves, improvising with the new Juyo Jarys slammed aggressive downward blows onto the wookies shoulder, who returned in kind using his taller body to spread his stance and force him to strain to reach each limb.

Jarys could feel the others of the furred beasts pack circling, waiting for a chance to strike him down.  He needs to be rid of them…needs to focus all effort on the furred predator. Yshrrk is no less impressed at their presence, they interfere with something – sacred – time honoured single combat, the chance to test his mettle against a true match.

Taking advantage of a small break opened by a wide swing the skin predator darts a hand out, a stream of lighting smacks into the Arconans blade, the furred slams his arm forward to catch it – it is a ruse – a knee slams into Yshrrk’s gut, Jarys twists out fully both hands free pour a thunderstorms due upon the Ishi Tib, aetheric blasts precise as they are subtle knock his guard aside by exactly 2.5 centimetres – a stream of electrons needs far less to get through. 

As his pack mate burned inside and out Yshrrk charged forward, the lighting ceases being directed outward and turns to a shield – he has seen this before – he is prepared – his tutaminis ability was not perfect, but nor was the attack.  The Arconan saw his chance and charged in from behind, the skin predator twisted as the yellow blade came down.

Dark eyes surrounded by matted wookie fur widened with fear as with one hand the skin predator caught the yellow blade – CAUGHT the blade – the other hand flashed open, as time slowed - Yshrrk could almost see the energy move from sabre, through body and out of the hand, twisting yellow energy to blue lighting. 

The wookie flew back with the impact of the blast, his ‘tutaminis’ as he termed it was good – aetheric energy manipulation techniques were better. Spinning into the Arconan’s space he disposed on the interloper. Yshrrk could only watch on - trying clumsily to keep the lighting from turning him into a living pyre – as quick vicious jabs pummelled the last of his allies. 

The furred predator roared out his anger, disgust and frustration and heaved back into the fight chest first, long arms hitting from both sides into forearm guards.   

The clash mirrored their first encounter in the dark rainy night – but now there was not wet to slide blows, no mud to cushion impacts – each fatiguing blow connected bruising muscles and straining bones. 

Yshrrk went to one knee first after a jabbing kick to the shin, Jarys advantage was soon lost as a clawed paw scraped him from shoulder to hip, the friction dragging him down into the half standing melee.

Yshrrk could feel he’d broken at least two ribs, probably his femur, and without a doubt his right hand, a heavy clawed punch had met not just the pectoral, but dense bone beneath – the sternum seemed to extend around the front of this humanoids ribs in a protective shield.  Still he kept on, suppressing the pain and forcing himself to remain upright as he drew more blood with his left claw.

Already cut, tired and worn from days of hunting, Jarys could feel the heat fever seething as his metabolism tried to keep him fighting as his last fat reserves flash burnt.  Parallel gouges of four claws patterned his torso and left thigh, his right shoulder not properly reset, upper hip straining with every turn from a hard knee to the pelvis a potential miro fracture.  Still he kept on, hammering down on the wookies arm with a satisfying crunch.

Neither could, neither would give ground…once you had your prey you did not relent….  As their backs gradually gave out or were mashed into submission it devolved into a slurred brawl on the ground.

They had given this hunt their all…Yshrrk would not survive this, Jarys perfectly designed bones were too strong to break with anything but the most horrific force he could muster…and he could muster no more…

Jarys would not survive, the Jedi re-enforcements would finish him easily if the wookie didn’t get a lucky claw into an artery first.

And if they were dead who then would protect their mates…

Realization of mutually assured destruction hit them both at once…they were not fighting for hatred of the other - but to protect another…

Exhausted and worn there was no hiding their emotions, the staid acceptance of death, to have failed in their hunt by becoming the prey passed between them…Jarys fist slowed in its descent doing little more than tapping an already bruised tricep, Yshrrk’s claw only grazed the skin of his chest.

Above killing your prey a predator must first survive…to die in the process and leave your mate vulnerable was defeat…the most base survival instinct took them not to a new height of rage…but a resigned armistice.

Slowly flopping apart, chests heaving to pull in oxygen once spent trying to kill the other now turned to healing the self. 

Scraping himself off the ground Jarys began a slow plod back, each step stronger as he focused on repairing his legs…he paused leaning against a tree which still bore a jagged metal branch that had once been a speeders forward stabiliser.

<We plotted like Aethenaea…Fought like Aertemisaea…now let’s go home and frell our women like they’re Aephordaea…>

It wasn’t spoken so much as placed in Yshrrk’s mind…the names otherwise obscure were imbued with a meaning he understood and appreciated…this was not a reckless beast, nor an enemy without honour…in another time and place this was a warrior Yshrrk would proudly stand beside to defend their families…yet by horrid twist of fate…

Yshrrk simply panted and watched him walk away wishing he was back home beneath the worshyr



[00:03:12] the chrono read, at [00:00:00] he would begin phase 2.
He could feel everything that was happening.

Jarys was barely alive, struggling to get away from the Jedi he knew were coming for him

Kiraea was frightened - though she would never admit it – that she was on her own, doomed to die on a strange world where the Goddesses might not find her.   

Sofa was anxious, disappointed at Yoda for having refused her offer, sad for herself that the contingency she had designed would now have to become real.

She was clever, already making the most of her advanced cognitive abilities to parse numerous and plot numerous causative elements in a single action - this was as much part of her plan as any other element – with her at risk she knew it would goad him back into action, if not his concern for his brother and adoptive sister .

And she was right, his fists balled, the self-pity on his face dissolved behind ominous titanium.

But underneath there was trepidation…a thread, bright but under dark clouds…a presence as familiar as it was unwelcome…

“Valens…” Yoda’s eyes closed from the glare of the holo-table as he felt the presence finally reveal itself fully.

“Yoda….”

[00:00:00]….

Oh, nicely written!  And well ended.  The clock "countdown" was masterful.

Valens is depressed and extremely conflicted.  Sofa putting herself into harms way to bring him back out, to give him a victory, is an amazing act of love.  She's all-in.  Time for him to reciprocate. 
And he's still connected to Yoda.  I am very curious how this is going to play out.  With Jarys nearly depleted and at the end of his rope, Valens is the key.  Will he come through?  Will he achieve a victory?

Or will he again fail?

Very interesting indeed.  This is such a masterfully crafted story.  I am totally invested in these characters, hoping against hope they succeed and live to ... grow up.  :-)

Now here's a fight that I've been looking forward to since learning about Aethans!  And you didn't disappoint!  Both Jarys and Yshrrk are warriors, kindred spirits as they hunt each other.  ABSOLUTELY love the last bit where Jarys gives his "salute" to the Wookie (I kept thinking of Conan's entire "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentations of their women!" speech  :D).

I wonder how the Jedi Order would have been different had SHE become Grand Master instead of Yoda...

To echo Karm: MASTERFULLY done LSG  :)

...I wonder what Sofa has planned...

In the small prefab storage room Sofa hung her head, disappointed – at what she had done, at what she was yet to do, and at what the Order she thought she knew had contributed to that outcome.

She’d moderated dozens of peace negotiations, knew there was always fault on both sides.  It was true here too, she had come with an offer of peace, it was rejected outright - that was not the Jedi way. And now she had to make good on her threat.

The burly Nautolan just outside noticed nothing as she jiggled her shoulders, the small black sphere between her breasts was uncomfortable, but it needed skin contact Valens said…a gentle brush with the aether activated it…

<Ten minutes, stay where you are,> she thought across the device she didn’t really understand yet. <Things are going to get messy, but He’s on his way,>


The co-pilot wasn’t talkative. 

His name was Juosh, a Clan Captain for the Toush Uba that had ambushed them on Sinkhole.  So rather than uncomfortable silence Valens waited in an escape pod.

His mind on the controls in the bridge he locked in the course according to Sofa’s plan to minimize the damage even after refusing a truce.  Yoda’s strategy was predicated on Valens being the enemy general – a key reason Sofa had planned everything.

This was the last ditch attempt to end this without him having to get his hands dirty….

Yoda would be waiting…Valens was expected – Juosh’s companions were not.


Goush leaned forward stroking his chin on the command platform of Blood Remembers.  Juosh had commed in eight hours ago with a lead on the Jedi Valens and Milaea,

[Targets found, Myrkr, en-route] – it was short for Juosh who was usually far more verbose, but on the hunt it was to be expected. Six hours later a further communique. [Target sighed, Anathema present, 15, request back up]

Again unusual for Juosh to be so cautious, but still 15 Anathema – or Jedi – he spat on the grated durasteel floor for just thinking the name – was a large force, caution was not inappropriate.

“14 minutes to real space translation” the thin faced dark skinned bridge-sister noted

“Good,” he replied settling back into his chair, “Ensure our transports are ready to launch as soon as we exit, I want the Anathema’s heads on the rack in three hours,” referring to the trophies of Anathema that sat upon a spike ring around the circular view port of the destroyer. Only 6 squared spikes had heads, the most recent 3 years old - before the day was out he would have fifteen more, and a 20 million credit pay day in the brig.

Yes today…today many Anathema would learn the name Toush-Uba and weep blood along their blades.

 “Repeat,” Oma listened as the Sentinel relayed for a third time the situation they had found on the eastern edge.

“Confirmed, Oma out,”

That was it, 21 dead, Yshrrk critically injured, and Yoda had just refused Sofa’s offer of peace – Oma knew it was a stalling tactic – but a stall could benefit both sides.

Confident strides took her toward the command tent, she summoned Sentinels as she passed with flicks of her wrist.

Soryu noted her as he left the tent, but continued on his course, he could feel the tension, sense the intent of her heavy pace, but knew he was needed elsewhere.

She pushed through the prefab door into the dim room.

“Grand Master Yoda, High Sentinel Yshrrk it critically injured, six more Jedi are dead, there is no sign of the traitor, I am…”

“Here he is, sense him I can…ready your men to intercept…” he gestured to the holo’s of the three Strike group Commanders in Orbit,

She could only shake her head

“What proof do you have of this,”

“Sense his presence…”

Wrong answer she thought raising her voice and switching over to the command channel to ensure the entire force could hear

“Not good enough, as Acting High Sentinel with all the powers and responsibility that entails, I am hereby relieving you of Operational Command of this Mission, as evidenced by repeated failures to enact effective strategies leading to significant loss of life, Captain Tnbu, initiate bombardment pattern Cresh in five minutes, All commanders commence decanting, we will follow the fire in and put them down when they flee.”

He could barely move for the shock of it, of all the things he might’ve expected…Yoda didn’t expect that…to usurp his command, yes there had been losses, but it was unavoidable, to simply bombard them from orbit…..

“We will no longer wait for our enemy to make the first move while we are slowly bled white, reform into twelve man teams, Squads 1 and 3 reforms to Aurek, 4 and 2 Besh, 5 and 6 Cresh, speeder teams hold positon until the bombardment commences then co-ordinate with the Ardent to clog any fire breaks….Acting Grand Master…” she finally turned to him,

“I can arrange for you to be returned to the Ardent, or you can take command of Cresh, your choice,”

His mouth twisted in thought as the shock died down, she was clever, very clever, taking command of the operation and offering two choices – flee or take a subordinate role – if he left it would be interpreted as pique, to take the command would condone Oma’s action.

He was about to answer when the alarm coming through Captain Tnbu on the Ardent’s link interjected


Tnbu was stunned, not so much but Oma’s action, but that it had taken Yshrrk being injured for the Sentinels to finally realize they were on a path to nowhere.

“Saber Squad,” he pressed the comm, “Confirm go bombing run pattern Cresh,”

“Confirm Cresh, Saber squad en-route,” the tight reply came back as the six Delta-2’s peeled off blue proton glow erupting being the diamond shaped fighters as they vectored to cut in through the atmosphere. 

Tnbu had specially requested this command from Yshrrk, an opportunity to ‘get out of the office’, he had been quite the pilot - if he did say so himself - in the day, but moved to intelligence as his reflexes diminished with age.  Yshrrk had welcomed his assistance, sensing his eagerness.  Like Many Jedi Tnbu felt a connection to this chase, a need to see this through, he could not simply sit in the Temple filtering data when he could help pursue the murderers and traitors.

BWAAAH…BWAAHH….

“Sir, we have incoming three ships on…collision course” the Duro squealed.  Tnbu felt his ears start to tingle as the force came alive with expectation, the Sullustan Captain immediately leapt across the deck to observe the holo,

“Captain?” Oma’s voice boomed across the bridge, “A problem?”

“Knight Unnnis hail them, time to collision?”

“Twelve minutes…they must’ve micro jumped from the systems insertion point…”

“Unidentified flotilla, this is the Ardent, please check your course heading immediately!”

“what’s the IFF,” Tnbu whispered to the tactical officer,

“The Frigate is ….Uba’s Edge…Ubese…”

Frell…Tnbu would’ve said had he been a less polite Sullustan.


 “No response, they’re still on a direct course speeding up to estimated maximum sub-light for ships that size, scans confirm no life signs on the ships”

Oma nodded, this must be what Sofa had threatened, her contingency, slam the ships into the Ardent and the Defender then have Valens slide in and pick them up while their orbital defences were in chaos.

Clever she smiled, but it had failed, she had stolen a march, the bombardment would commence any second now.

“Free to fire, send Crane Squad to disable them, but blast them with the main batteries if they get too close,” Valens was a good friend, but he was now on the wrong side, she had no qualms destroying him and his allies – indeed he would likely respect her choice.

A boom echoed overhead as Sabre squad sliced through the few clouds on their bombing run, all team had checked in ready – in less than an hour this would all be over, ‘Justice’ done and the battle won.


 “Target one…lining up…” blue tracers on the HUD ticked past, the distance tracer winding down to zero – the Knight hit the trigger.

“Charge deployed,”

The arc of the bomb was precise, there was little wind, so they had only compensated 5 degrees, it plummeted toward the dozen shades of green that made up the forest canopy pierced with the odd flare of red or blue – flowers that exploded microscopic fluffy seed pods into the upper atmosphere where it could remain for decades before settling back down.

Those seed pods were orphaned a second later.  The orange blast obliterated a 100 metre circle of growth, vaporizing the closest trunks, flash immolating those at the edge. The hot shockwave boiled the water in leaves in an outer impact zone 50 metres from the yellow edge. 

Six such explosions gently rocked the ground, the promethium charges were designed to burn not concuss so the shockwave was limited.

Old growth jungle, trees centuries old, ecosystems untouched by sentient hands for countless generations were immolated in seconds, a blazing fire front spreading outward.  Whilst much of the forest floor was damp from recent rains and the slurry of organic decomposition, the sheer heat of the promethium fuelled blaze allowed the drier leaves and dying plants to catch, it didn’t take long for the heat to chain to the wetter of the foliage.

Oma smiled as she lead team Besh onto the blackened earth in the fires wake, spread out to scour the grey lifeless land for their targets corpses.

Half way between the command outpost and the centre of the exclusion zone, Soryu could only shake his head at what the Order had become.

In the outpost inhuman strength effortlessly pulled apart stun cuffs, sliding sidesteps and enhanced reflexes twisted an arm around the Nautolans neck before he could react, two fingers on the beating carotid artery put him under as Sofa stepped out. 

They had assumed she was still human – they were wrong.   

As sabre squad pivoted to ascend back to the Ardent for the next payload, a Chiss freighter cut in through the ash clouds, on a vector calculated in less than five seconds by a Jedi Master who was wishing this had never been necessary as she raced through the trees to her stranded ‘sister’.

At the controls Maynard glided the ship as smoothly as he would a vibro-pick in a lock as Xandra hit the launch button sending the crate on directly to the location the Jedi had failed and feared to find since the siege began.

The Chiss ship went largely unnoticed on the Ardent’s bridge as they watched Crane squad pepper the Ubese ships with white-blue ion shots that sparked against indifferent brown plating. The engines must’ve been disconnected from the bridge controls, hard set rather than programmed Tnbu determined as they kept coming forward, Crane squads fire ineffective, and their weapons not strong enough, he gave the order of the Ardent’s main batteries to open fire.

Three ships resolved into real space just in time to see the green blasts tear the blocky brown Uba’s Blade and its support ships to pieces with green lances of energy that competed in luminosity with the orange red ejection explosions of the escape pods.

Goush’s fingers gouged into the arms of his command chair as he watched the ships of his Toush-Uba clan mates annihilated by the Anathema’s ships, the vid-connect to Uba’s Edge showed Juosh lying dead in his seat. 

Goush roared orders across the bridge of the destroyer Blood Remembers, demanding targeting solutions on the Anathema Corvette and the fighters to escort the transports to the surface to recover their clansmen in the escape pods.

Tnbu looked in horror as a Destroyer and two frigates, supported a dozen fighters and transports bore down on them, desperately trying to hail them, Goush allowed the vid-comm through only to look silently on the head of the Anathema that would soon decorate a spike on his bridge.

Sentinel Squad Aurek praised Oma’s prescience, they had just packed up when an escape pod slammed down into the former outpost, more fire added to the conflagration Sabre squad had begun, but began to worry as the command channel filled with anxious calls from Tnbu for the Star of Justice to micro jump from the night side of Myrkr in behind an Ubese ambush.

Worry turned to fear as a black silhouette stepped out from the escape pods yellow flames.


Kiraea could only smile as the crate hammered into the ground, sinking into the mushy soil.  Six plumes of smoke rose around her, the yellow glare of the fires proving a luminous substitute for the setting sun.

The crate was heavy durasteel, hot from the drop causing the red spray paint to streak, but the message was till legible –

‘Give ‘em hell Kiri’



Burnt air sucked moisture from his throat, skin burnt and cells boiled overheated from the fight edging toward dehydration coma.

On the edge of the conflagration he pushed what few scraps of energy he had to get to Kiraea…her mood elevated, hopeful, alive – he had come here to live, now he was about to die.

His legs finally gave, flopping him into the heat dried soil and cracked leaves of the jungle. Filtering out the cracking of wood as it roasted footsteps whispered closer. Pushing up on shaky arms for a final fight before the flames consumed him.

The brown robed figure stood a mere metre away…Jarys was gone if his enemy could sneak up so easily.

Instead of the snap-hiss of a sabre - a calming voice, cool hands lifting him up and pressing a bottle to his lips.  He recognized the face as he scratched out the words.
“You betray your People…”

“They have betrayed themselves,” Soryu replied



A part of him was smug, let Oma take the fall for this he thought…but he knew it was all on him, he had lead them here, he had delayed waiting for Valens to arrive. Be careful what you wish for.

Team Cresh was formed behind him, circling around to where he sensed the familiar presence somewhere near team Aurek. They were moving at half march, cautious in the flame driven heat not to overextend themselves. 



Sabre squad had barely cleared the Thermosphere when the Ubese fighters hit. 

The Ardent was trading blows with two blocky frigates, the Ubese destroyer picking off the Defender.  Overall the forces were evenly matched, three Jedi Consular class cruisers and eighteen fighters against two Kuati Firgates and a Rendili StarDrives Light Destroyer, a solid 400 metre vessel that required less crew than a true destroyer but retained much of the fire power.

Tnbu focused on his ships greater manoeuvrability, trying to get above and below the destroyer as Crane squad targeted the cannons and hard points. But for that he needed the Star of Justice.

The Ardent rocked as forward shields were slammed by three rapid turbo laser blasts,

“Sir Defender reports assault transports breaking through, Sabre squad is ready to intercept.”

“Make it so, keep them off our ground forces…” another shake as the frigate to the left unleashed a pack of concussion missiles, short range cannons dealt with most, but not all. The port engines hull plating was pierced, engineering forced to shut it down for fear of a proton ejection. 


Goush smiled as his frigate picked apart the Anathema ship marked Ardent, pounding on the Defender with Blood Remembers.  It was angling beneath, between him and the planet hoping to cut off any more assault squads, his shields were on double low to counters its petulant fire.

They had less fighters than the Anathema, but once the capital ships were gone they would have nowhere to run.


 “Crane one scratch one,”

“Crane three need some back up over here!” desperate to shake the Star-Blazer off his tail Crane three swung between the Defender and the Destroyer, twisting and jinking between the turbo laser fire, the energy backlash scrambling his – and his tails – sensors.

“Crane five moving in,” hitting the afterburner she twisted down into the inter ship death valley, curving out of a turbo lasers path she lined up the Star-Blazer, feeling the thread of its movement in the force ignoring the targeting computer. Two short bursts of red chopped its engines then blew the body, metal slamming into the larger ships shields.

“woo thanks for the assist!” Crane one called as he pulled back up along the destroyer trying to get on top of it. A blast of displacement knocked his fighter off course as he came over the lip, the Star of Justice had just resolved from a micro-jump above the destroyer, Crane three gripped his stick hard trying to correct but not before a plucky gunner on Blood Remembers lined him up and took his first Anathema for the day – he might not get a trophy, but he had the satisfaction.


“Where the frell did that come from!” Goush yelled as he found himself sandwiched between the two cruisers.

“errghh…focus on the turbo lasers, pull Red Harvest back to support.” There were far more than 15 anathema it seemed, Goush began to suspect it wasn’t Juosh who sent that message.


Sabre squad rode the buffeting burn of re-entry as they tried to pick off the six assault transports headed to the ground.  The jittering threw off their targeting, and they had swapped missiles for the now used promethium bombs, still they managed to take out two before they hit the dense cloud of ash their bombing run had birthed.  The smoke was dense and wet, stifling visuals, they flew by the force and radar. 

There it is…Sabre six twisted through the dark clouds eyes closed...the luminous shapes of Ubese bodies compacted into a box that had no form in the force just ahead. 

Little to the left…little to the right…FIRE.

Six red bolts pierced the ash bloom, three knocked the rear shields, two smacked into the engines sending it into a death spiral.

“Sabre squad they’re launching another wave, let’s get them before they hit the smoke,” Tnbu ordered, the cloud of burnt organic matter was too dense to risk trying to offer air support – Oma would have to deal with the Ubese herself.

Savoury taste trickled down her throat as she shoved a third ration bar, synthesized to meet Peoples unique nutritional needs in her mouth, the aether fastening the Mark 1 Guardian Armour to her body. 

The heat was starting to rise even here, the wind howling as cool air pushed out into the hot.

She found herself in an arena of yellow fire with a black smoke canopy. And the first round was about to begin.



Oma crunched the brittle dead leaves beneath her boot, she could feel the presence of the female target up ahead….waiting for her.  She glanced to her flanks where the speeders were keeping pace with the walkers.  Yoda’s three in three out plan had failed. 

Overwhelming fire power would not.



He was up ahead, Yoda could feel him…

The trunk beside him blacked as a red bolt struck it.  The Ubese had intercepted them from the direction of what was camp 4.   

He pressed through the foliage, dry but not yet ignited, this was a distraction he did not need.

He regretted dismissing Neirai’s threats as empty – he had taught her better – in his classes on Negotiation he had advised to avoid using threats, but if you had to always follow up – this lesson she had taken to heart.

Odis slammed into a fallen trunk beside him,

“They’re trying to push us into the fire front ,can’t get a line on their numbers…we can still fall back,”

Fall back!…Justice for the Night of Madness was only a few hundred metres away and he wanted to fall back!

And yet…

He felt the heat from the approaching inferno, saw the bolts of red slamming white against sabres, green speeder cannons squealing return fire.  He had done this, led them from Night of Madness to Day of Flame. 

Soryu’s question haunted him…how many had to die….in that moment he answered-  only one.

“To the camp retreat, draw to Besh squad if possible,”

Odis looked at him concerned, the Abyssins face soiled with ash,

“Alone to face Valens I must go, attempt to rescue Aurek squad, a path for them keep clear if you can,”

A quick nod of acceptance, “May the force be with you Grand Master,”



Darting between blackened logs that fell to ash with the slightest touch, keeping well clear of the exchange of blaster fire 30 metres to her right as the Ubese sought to take as many Anathema heads as possible, she made her way to where she could sense a female presence having far too much of a good time as lives winked out around her.

She hadn’t wanted this, not at all, she had warned them, but the Order that she saw here…firebombing a jungle, refusing a chance for a peaceful resolution, offering ultimatums instead of options.

It was an Order she didn’t understand and didn’t know anymore. 

Her only pity was for herself, lost in a warzone a fortnight into her new life.

An explosion rocked behind her, barely audible over the cackle of the flames.  She felt the cold press of the black marble on her breast directing her to where she needed to be. A quick glance confirmed the Jedi squad was otherwise occupied, she darted out.



Two hundred metres ahead Oma began to realise she wasn’t doing any better than Yoda had.

Over the rocky landscape a dark figure was laughing like a mad woman on top of a crate, in each hand a rifle that hit with exceptional precision.

They had been resupplied with weapons and armour somehow, or perhaps had been hoarding them all along. 

Three of her squad were down, the insane laughter ringing in their ears but worse it was filling their heads.  Something had to give, and it wasn’t going to be her.



The healing flow was doing wonders, more likely due to Jarys advanced biology than anything Soryu was intentionally doing. The other was just up head, he could feel Oma and her squad nearby cowering beneath the yellowing foliage.

“Can you make it alone?” 

Jarys gave a slight nod

“I’ll draw them off…this…this isn’t the way for either of us to live,”

To live…had he been able to Jarys might’ve said something, as it was he just nodded and leapt off into the scrub.

He ran down behind Oma’s lines and came up behind shouting as they kept trying to snipe the giggling maniac they were trying to surround,

“Sentinel! Pull back!”

Oma turned around “What!” he needed to thin fast, thoughts coalesced in his mind from…from somewhere familiar…something he knew so well, yet was so changed from when he last knew it.

“Pull back, the Ubese are preparing an orbital bombardment!”  he pointed over the small rise at the dancing fanatic. “It’s not US they really want!”

She paused for a moment considering all she had seen…

“Frell this we should never have come here…retreat!”

A feeling of relief flooded in behind the words that were only half his own,

Sofa peeked out behind a trunk with a smile.



Now it was time for fun!  As they fell back Kiraea got ready to cut them down as they retreated when Jarys flopped out from the trees.

“Let errm gwowo” he managed

Eyes darting between the two options, she ran up to her new mate before quickly pivoting around rifle raised as someone approached

“Whoa! Not a threat” Sofa shrieked

“Where’s Valens?!”

“Coming, stay in place pickups on its way.



“…pushed…too many…Anathe…hundreds…” the link was patchy, distorted more by the fumes boiling off the jungle than the Jedi’s jamming.

Goush glared at the trophy rack…someone had tricked them…some JEDI!

He spat thrice at the thought…they had lured them into a trap.  Another betrayal by the Anathema to add to their list of outrages against the Ubese. The clans needed to hear…but for that he had to survive.

Knuckles white as his fists clenched, command chair rocking as the Jedi fighters bit ever deeper into the hull Goush finally had to admit defeat…but not before leaving a parting gift to the Anathema.
 
“We’re pulling out,” he ordered

“This close to…” the lieutenant didn’t bother finishing the sentence seeing the look on his face.

“Calculate the Jump,” he glanced at the status of the four sub-light engines,

“Before we jump,”



His danger sense went haywire, squeezing his temples into his brain and tensing his spine.

They had crippled one of the Frigates, which now slowly drifted from the exchange of turbo laser fire down the gravity well, the Ubese fighters floated dead and the remaining Jedi Delta-2’s were picking apart the hard points on the other ships…still the danger sense was blazing as hot as the fires of Myrkr below.

“Pull back!  All engines full reverse, Sabre, Crane, full sub light get away from the destroyer!”

“Captain, build up in the enemy hyperdrive…power surge on the outer starboard sub light….” The Duro only confirmed his suspicions, they were going to jump…but first they were going to jettison their damaged drive core – the shock wave of the shift to pseudo motion had a 50/50 chance of causing the core to detonate.   

The Ardent pounded backward on full reverse, leaving a trail of detritus from the damage the Ubese had wrought in its wake. 

Void boomed as the Destroyer punched out of real space, a wave of energy flowed out striking the metal core that flickered with blue light and yellow fire.

Tnbu closed his eyes…

For the first time that day, they had some good luck with the core bouncing along the wave indolently.


A thousand civilizations had a fiery underworld, full of the dead and tormented.  What Yoda saw was a realization of this Myth.  The remnants of the Jedi outpost stood molten and flaky between two burning transport ships emblazoned with melting Ubese clan symbols, still popping with tertiary explosions.

Across the ground that would not look out of place on Mustafar, lay bodies, mostly Ubese, but also team Aurek.  In the centre a throne of corpses seeping blood into a black puddle gone grey combined with the ash.

Throne for upon it knelt a God of War and Death, hand gripped on a sabre that pierced down into the pile.

Yoda felt his body tremble, his arms shake as his lightsabre flipped between his claws.  Cautious steps over the blasted earth, the scent reminded him of the Pyres in the North hangar, the secretive disposal of Valens previous victims, somehow the bodies out in the open was even more distributing than huddled away.

“Deceiver!” Yoda screamed before realising he had made a sound

“Murderer,” he paced around the pile while the God remained unmoved

“Traitor” he seethed through gritted teeth moving into a preparatory Ataru stance as the sky cracked above, the ash cloud mingling with the in sweeping thunderstorm – the first drops of a grey rain began to fall.

Everything he said was true, Valens noted, but to what end, these were just labels with no real meaning, no purpose but to classify the vagaries of reality. Yoda knew this but perhaps this was not Yoda who spoke.

“I came,” the voice was a booming whisper against the thunder rising high above.

“To save my people, preserve their lives from those who would destroy them,”

Now he opened his grey eyes to fix Yoda in a stasis inducing glare

“Why did you come here Yoda?”

There was an unspoken accusation in his question, one that stabbed and mingled with Soryu’s admonishment – Valens came here to save his People’s lives, no matter how many enemy deaths that meant  -Yoda had come to take a life, no matter how many of his own peoples deaths that meant.

“Enact Justice, uphold the law, surrender to my custody…”

Valens closed his eyes again, a gentle shake of his head, still holding the blade downward as though it were a mythic sword trapped in a stone awaiting a chosen one to free it.

“Grand Master Kimar…once thought as you do, learn from his failure,”

Yoda’s reply was the hiss of his green sabre igniting.

The swiftness of leap was tempered by the apprehension - to be at the point of attaining your goal and afraid of actually doing so.

Curving out of the body it was planted Valens blade parried the slash and buffeted back the hurricane of telekinetic energy that blasted the pile of bodies apart.

The Ataru of a practiced master was unleashed upon Valens, the force flowing constantly pushing Yoda’s body well beyond normal bounds of speed and strength. Jumping to offset his height disadvantage, Yoda unleashed a flurry of blows to keep his opponent off balance. 

For anyone less knowledgeable, less physically gifted he would’ve appeared a blur guided by the force, finding openings everywhere and executing them with untold precision.

Yet Yoda’s opponent wasn’t just anyone, it was the man who had studied his master’s form more intently than anyone else ever would, in that was an answer Yoda needed yet he did not know it.

The sabre swarm of Ataru met a mixed defence of Soresu and Makashi, Valens remained purely on the defensive, taking pounding kinetic energy that blasted through the energy blades to firm his stance in the increasingly muddy ground, the rain turning the loose ash to a slurry as it beat down.     

Unable to breach his high guard Yoda went low with hard jabs, deflected with almost casual indifference as the force energies pounded him to either side.  Yoda was getting frustrated, he had come so far, sacrificed so much to get this chance…

Or had he…what had he sacrificed behind the title of Grand Master as others died in his name.

His attack was interrupted by the thought, but Valens did not take the opening, Yoda spun on his feet twirling up and over then hammering down in the two handed ‘Falling Leaf’ strike.  It struck hard against the horizontal guard, green on green turned to white with sparking flecks of energy and the hiss of rain hitting the glowing blades.

He pushed down with all his strength, all the power he could flow through his body, Valens sabre neared his face, a little more and…

He flew forward.  Valens sabre tchzzomed off and he side stepped, Yodas own power pushed him down, but Valens quick reflexes jagged him painfully before he reached the ground, a strong hand grasped Yoda’s claws and pressed as the force wrenched his sabre free flinging it across the Hellscape. An adroit pivot and grip put Yoda’s neck in the vice of his grip.

Eyes wide in unbelief Yoda waited to die.

Valens looked at the being he held briefly, then flung him into the sloshing blood mingled mud.

“Why did you come here?” he repeated to Yoda’s astonishment.

“For justice? The ‘Law’” Valens turned his back and spread out his arms

“Then execute your Justice, enact your Law,” the lost sabre trembled as Yoda reached for it in the force…yet it struggled to come free from the slop…it was not Valens preventing it, the force itself was in rebellion against the Jedi Masters dark intent.

“You can’t beat me…” Valens said quietly, “You are merely Yoda’s shadow, as I am Valens…I just happen to be darker.”

He turned back to gaze on the pathetic form of a once great Jedi wallowing in the muds, soaked through by the downpour.

“’Did my teachings contribute to your fall’,” Valens quoted from Yoda’s deepest fears

“That is the question the Jedi Yoda wishes to ask Valens his apprentice, there is an answer…”

Valens stalked into the steaming desolation unchallenged, his silhouette fading into the darkness

“…but neither of those men are here to ask nor answer it,”

Intense!  Soryu's action, healing Jarys, explains a comment that was made somewhere else, about Soryu being a "friend" to the People.   He and Sofa are the only Jedi on the planet acting like Jedi.  The rest are more akin to a hit squad ... or Imperial Storm Troopers.

The final confrontation between Yoda and Valens explains it all.   Yoda is yielding to dark impulses of revenge and anger, not the higher goal of Justice.  Just as Valens yielded to them on Coruscant.  That Valens would walk away as he did will hopefully snap Yoda out of it and put him back on a path to the light.

To bad he wasn't more successful in communicating the lesson he's learning to a certain young man in the future....   :-)

OK, this chapter has it ALL:
Action!
Excitement!
Emotion!
Philosophical Questions of Identity!_wait...what? ;)

Seriously, I LOVE Valens' response to Yoda, certainly makes me think of what Nietzsche was referring to: "Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster" BUT with the added stipulation of which is worse: killing to survive vs. killing to revenge.  Very, very intriguing.

Oh, and now we finally see the context of the Preview that we were given before; I would NOT have guessed that it was Soryu saying those words!  Once again, he represents the best of the Jedi Order.  Sadly, he is among the exceptions rather than the rule...

BTW: I LOVE the pic you used for Oma (Brienne w/ a lightsaber; brilliant!)

And now, Sofa has made her choice: she IS completely Aethan now.

Perhaps he never really learnt himself....I've always seen Yoda a quite an ambiguous figure, some of his actions are not precisely light...e.g. in E2 went straight for Dooku, E3 no compunction trying to off Sidious....but then runs into hiding when he fails essentially abandoning the galaxy to its fate....not to mention in Clone Wars (Well the Dark Horse Comics series anyway) his nonchalant approach at times. Anyway that was sort of what I wanted to explore where that attitude comes from a bit rather than having Super wise Jedi master as starting point....just hoping it is believable LOL.   


Yeah trying not to be predictable but also exploring some of the tensions.  That is in a sense what the Aethans throw up in people I think, not just Jedi, but Mak'Tor and soon enough Vhal'Dan and Sith as well - their mere existence presents a challenge and far worse a temptation that brings internal tensions in groups and individuals to the fore.   

Anyway thanks for the support guys!

Always!  :-)  Nothing like a demi-god to bring up tensions!  Just ask the Greeks!  ;-)

“Deploy all transports, three fighter escorts, pack our people up,” Tnbu ordered as he surveyed the damage.  The Defender was barely afloat, Star of Justice was in the best shape having entered the battle late, and the Ardent…was – adequate.

“How long till the support forces arrive?”

“Still two hours out Captain,” the Duro replied tapping out orders and prioritising the engineers and mechanics focus.

He could only hope no one else showed up unexpectedly.


The blue grey ship sliced through the storm, obscured by the lighting and ignored by the retreating Jedi forces, the breach of their cordoned of airs space a red blinking light on a console on the Ardents bridge that would not be checked for another half an hour as repairs and retreat took precedence.

Kiraea kept on the crate, her improvised high ground form which she’d already picked off three Ubese stragglers.  Sofa kept anxious eyes on the tree line as Jarys consumed half a dozen ration bars in as many seconds.

“They wouldn’t be dumb enough to try again would they?” Kiraea inquired of her new ‘sister’

“I don’t know what to expect anymore,” she replied honestly as the Chiss freighter began to descend, the muddy ground rippling with backwash from the landing jets.

“Finally…” Kiraea leapt down and hauled up the crate in one hand to Sofa amazement – I wonder if I could do that she thought.

“What took you so long?” she demanded of Maynard as the ramp descended,

“Trouble back home,” he closed his eyes waiting for the inevitable – instantly the familiar press of her mind assailed his pulling out all the details, verbatim memories of recent conversations…and in Kiraea’s typical fashion not failing to also take in the ‘activities’ he and Xandra had entertained themselves with while in hyperspace.

Her mouth twitched in anger and annoyance, as she channelled the meaning to the others

“Ow what the frell!” Sofa screeched feeling the press of another mind on hers,

Kiraea and Jarys exchanged glances not understanding her discomfort at having information sent telepathically in a detailed package. 

Sensing their confusion Sofa had to speak out

“You can’t just do that to people!”

The use of the word ‘People’ confused them even more…who else but people would you share things telepathically with?

Before Kiraea could say anything Valens stepped out of the trees, slow purposeful steps head drooped down,

“Finally is the little green one dead?” she asked

“Just broken,” he whispered as the events were shared across their bond…Kiraea might not necessarily consider the options Valens took as the best ones…but she deferred to his expertise on Jedi matters even though his previous predictions had been incorrect – the most likely chains of causation from their actions would set Yoda, Oma and Soryu on a collision course that would cripple the Jedi Order even more effectively than had they eliminated one or all of them…still there was always room for the unexpected….

“Whatever, let’s go then, we need to pick up the other ships and the animals…”

She glanced up at the storm, the heat from the fire had caused a rapid movement of hot air up which had now hit the rainy seasons colder upper atmosphere winds to condense, it would be the perfect cover to get out.

Clambering aboard Kiraea paused after dumping the crate down as the hatch sealed and the scent of burning was replaced with cycled air and something else.

Sofa was about to go to Valens when a head shoved itself into her face and started sniffing, not just a gentle breath one might offer to sample another woman’s perfume, deep throaty sniffing.

“When was your last period and orgasm?” Kiraea asked bluntly,

Sofa’s eyes widened beyond what she thought possible…she’d thought a ‘hello’ or ‘thank you’ would be a start but this….

“WHAT!”

“I said…”

“I know what you said, what the stars is wrong with you,”

Kiraea looked at her as if three heads had just sprouted off her neck,

“You left too soon after your rebirth, and I’m guessing Milaea didn’t teach you the Rites.…you’re all congested…”

“Conges...look we’re still in a potential kill zone and you’re worried about my sex life?”

Kiraea shook her head

“Ughh you Republic people are so ignorant…I’ll have to teach you what to do…and soon…hrmm we can deal with the Birth Rites later…” Kiraea worked out which ones would be appropriate to teach off world and outside of the sacred caves…the basic ones obviously…but how many of the advanced ones…

“Um hello, we have bigger problems here – stolen clones, Jedi army, Ubese Bounty hunters….”

Kiraea glanced to Jarys, “Look after your brother,” his still ferocious aura resonated with an unspoken…not so much assent as obedience…

Back to Sofa – “You see how easy it is when you’ve locked them,” she noted as Jarys wandered off to Valens.

“We’ll have to take one of the other ships….”

She sniffed at her again,

“Eugh…this is going to be messy…”



 “Collect up what bodies you can, but don’t dally, three hours and we are out of this system!” Oma screamed over the rain and thrum of engines as they pulled out.  For all the desolation caused by the firestorm and the Ubese attack, confirmed losses had been small, only 9 dead on ground, 6 in orbit…though team Aurek was still yet to report in. 

The Ubese had been hammered, why they had come, how they knew they were here, she did not know, but they had paid a terrible price regardless.

The mission had been a complete failure.  They had waited too long, not just Yoda but her as well. Sofa was missing, her guard found unconscious, and whilst there was no sign of the male, she had no doubt the female target was still out there and would use the storm as cover to escape.

Let them, Oma figured, there was nothing more to be gained from this, and the Ubese presented a far more imminent danger, an assumption they perished in the fire was a good a closing to this vanity than could be hoped for.

That reminded her
“Any sighting of Master Soryu or Yoda?” he had vanished after his odd warning,

“None Sentinel, shall we send out search parties?”

Her boots squelched turning to the Knight

“Not in this weather, keep a transport at the main camps former site for now, they should sense it, we need to get out before more Ubese arrive.”


He found him alone cradling his sabre amongst the rain and corpses. Defeated, broken.  Once more they had failed, failed to listen, to react as Jedi should.

Soryu knelt beside Yoda’s bruised form, he didn’t need to ask who had beaten then spared him - or how, he could almost see what had occurred here.

There was little to say, no words could do justice to the sheer visceral reality of what was before them.

Yoda had failed, and he knew it, not the shifting inconstant concepts of justice and law he had ostensibly set out to achieve…but his own self.  He who was so willing to point out the hidden agendas and unconscious motives of others had not applied that piercing insight to himself. 

Light had turned to darkness, wisdom to foolishness, control to chaos, the universe itself felt topsy-turvy…upside down, one in which Yoda was relentless in pursuing his enemy and Valens was valiantly trying to save lives. 

It was mad, completely mad.

Soryu rested his hand on his friends shoulder and sent forth a stream of healing as he had just done with Jarys.  This was the failure of the Jedi, to think that a person lashing out in violence was not also a person who needed healing.

Soryu understood, Jarys needed healing, and so did Yoda – and this was the path he walked with the living force - to offer that healing – Life - to whomever needed it, no matter their race, no matter their crimes, no matter their culture.

The truth was painful to face, but here amongst the gritty consequence of his choices, Yoda could finally face it.

He had wanted to kill for revenge, had thrown away lives in that pursuit, and he wanted answers not to understand and prevent tragedy recurring, but to vindicate himself.  Yoda wanted to know he was not responsible for Valens fall.

Valens had the answer, but knew Yoda was not ready to hear it, nor Valens ready to give it – Yoda had failed to be true to himself, true to the Jedi, true to the Force.

Failure…failure would be his greatest teacher.

He slunk into M’Tzigon ashamed, his hands still covered in bacta patches from his furious tantrum.  The Rain Song landed in an outer port rather than the Mountain where the Mak’Tor were establishing their barracks and facilities. One day it would be a major complex, a centre of learning and training, for now…it was a construction site of epic proportions.

Jo had underestimated the Sith Valens…dramatically…Li had warned him but he didn’t want to hear it. He couldn’t do this alone. He breathed deeply and began.

“Friends…thank you for coming,”

They met in cramped a utility room with old broken cleaning droids at the far end of the space port.  Only eight of the ten he had invited had come, he needed to be cautious if Li found out he was back on M’Tzigon she would stop him from leaving, let alone recruiting others to join him,

“Just over a week ago I encountered the murderer, the abomination Valens in the Maw, as you can see I barely escaped alive,” his self-inflicted cuts seemed to sting against the lie of their origin…but they didn’t need to know the details.

“He has a Jedi Master under his spell, she is completely lost to his powers, and those powers are very considerable…”

He glanced around the faces looking for small tells on who was most in agreement with him,

“We have all lost friends, lovers…family on Vyth…we all know Li has refused to pursue these killers, these Sith…if we want justice it is up to us to take it,”

Feeling the expected tremors he raised his hands in a placating gesture, the movement stinging his raw fingers.

“I know…you will wonder is this simply revenge I seek…why else meet secretly…I assure you no…we have seen the evidence, we know this Valens and Milaea are guilty, it is beyond doubt...such vile actions would earn the death penalty in a thousand systems, and they are Sith…”

He glanced to Old Cam, father of Ty’Re’Cam, one of the first to die on Vyth, his face stony but his aura was raging

“They will not stop killing, it’s only a matter of time before they come for us here…I have spoken with Soryu himself,”

The name still carried great weight after all these years,

“He all but confirmed they were responsible for the Night of Madness, how long before they unleash something similar here!”

Jo was not a natural orator, but this seemed to be going well,

“Li has her head in the sand, too busy frelling that Vhal’Dan Arbiter Anson to realise the chance we have to put an end to this enemy,”  A low blow but it galvanized some toward him, he met the gaze of Su’Zim’Kar who lost a sister,

“I placed a tracking device on his ship, but even with this I know I can’t defeat him alone, so I ask you, will you fulfil you vow to ‘protect the innocent and defend the weak from those who would oppress them or unjustly use them’, I ask you what more unjust action can there be than what was done to the people of Coruscant, what greater oppression than the ending of life!”

Now to Hri’Va’Tun who lost a father,

“These people are guilty, but our leaders refuse to see justice done, I will not, I will have justice for Ho’li, for Ha’Ona…for Ty’Re’Cam, for Cy’Na’Kar, for Hui’Va’Tun…for Od’Ji’Na…if I must go alone I shall, even if I fall I die a knight fulfilling my vows…knowing where this Murderer is can you live with yourself as a knight if you do not join me?”

It was a messy speech, it wasn’t planned, but it was effective on some, the faces of those he had locked with hardened, the others shook their heads and murmured before quietly slipping out, till only four were left, Hri’Va, Su’Zi, old Cam and thankfully An’Ne’Rae.  Inviting her, a member of the Council of Balance had been a risk, but he needed all the help he could get and having lost two children and her husband not inviting her would’ve made the others realise just how dark his motivations were…no not dark, just he reminded himself – He was Gray.

“Alright Jo,” The Master of Blades known to her friends as Anne began

“Where is this son of a tralk,”



Beneath his mask his mouth was pursed painfully at having to explain his failure…and worse his need…to someone like this.

Toush-Uba was a proud clan, True Ubese to a man.  It had taken generations for them to acquire the resources for their own ships and armaments.  Hardened by the wastes of Uba IV and the internecine clan warfare they had prospered as mercenaries and bounty hunters, never failing to take a chance to hunt the Anathema who had consigned them to such desperate lives.

“So in return for this assistance…we offer 3 months of service,” Goush forced himself to propose.

Outside the grimy transparisteel Blood Remembers sparked not with plasma torches to repair but busted electronics he could not afford to get fixed.  Proud as he was if he had to submit to servitude to get the ships repaired he would do it. 

The Clan on Uba IV relied on him to earn the credits to buy the foods and medicines Uba IV’s radiated plains could not provide enough of.

The Black Sun Vigo before him leaned back a wry smile on his lips.


“I’m sure I can think of something you could do for me,” Xithar smiled to the demure Ubese captain before him.

“I have no love for the Jedi either and am more than happy to help the enemy of my enemy, but rather than time of service…let’s say cost of repairs and supplies plus 20% to be worked off…”

The Ubese remained motionless but Xithar could feel the sublime taste of defeat on him…the only thing more delicious was Xithars own dominance over him.

“I…accept,”

Oh that was hard to say!

“Very well 400,000 credits plus 25% - 500,000…but I’m a generous man…I’ll take 5000 off for each of the lightsabres you collected from Myrkr…”

Mrykr was a backwater even among backwaters, what on earth possessed the Jedi to send a strike there eluded Xithar for the moment…from Goush’s explanation he had arrived only after the Jedi… And while Xithar suspected it was Valens and Milaea he was yet to obtain definitive proof.

Who could understand the vagaries of the mystic monks he shrugged as Goush held back his bitterness – giving up such ‘Anathema’ war trophies was a major dishonour for Ubese…but Xithar had his myvonx in hand – why not give them a squeeze?

“We have three…” he said uncomfortably in non-native basic.

“Excellent, my assistant will draw up a contract, I have a small job that will wipe off a further 150,000 in a mere day for you once repairs are complete…now if you’ll forgive me I must be getting on.

Goush bowed slightly despite himself as Xithar swept out – the Ubese failure was Xithars gain.


The Luxury skimmers anti-grav plates pulsed neat waves through the stark green Kaluthin grasses, the purple flowers wilting as the season ended.
 
The grasses waved back straight more due to the spring of their cellulose cell walls than any counter wind as the skimmer approached the desert zone around the blackened tower that stood silent sentinel to time, ambition and folly upon Almas.

High above the Hedonist cast a lonely scar in the sky of the long forgotten Cularian system.

Only the 30 metre tall core of the fortress remained standing after being destroyed then forgotten by the Jedi during the New Sith Wars – fiendishly built of Mandolorian irons, Force nullifying ores and littered with undetectable traps it had been the centre of Darth Rivans studies on Sith Battle lords – warrior deeply connected to their soldiers to improve their effectiveness. 

Now centuries later it was the laboratory and study of Darth Lucovis – a Sith of a very different mindset and era – one who did not rage against the Republic by establishing some petty empire, but manipulated it by indulging its vices with the Black Sun.

Nonetheless the studies of Rivan on connecting beings through the force - and more visceral ways - had proved a critical starting point for Locivs development of the Sith Wyrms to bond his thralls and control them across vast distances and had the potential to one day…with just a few more tweaks enable something far more…

Divine…

From the outside there was no visible entry way, only Sith would know.  A flick of his nail on his thumb and a blood trail upon the ancient stone began the process of opening – filling the blood with force lighting Xithar bestowed his tribute of flesh to the fortress to allow himself entry.

Through the darkened passages covered in Sithese text – mostly Rivan obsequious autobiography Lucovis proceeded to the study.

Here in the red light of ancient Candles made during Mid Draggulch Period just before the later Republic Dark age, he took a seat behind the ornate desk.

His hands scrolled across the vellum as he took in the scent, freshly made from nerf’s bred for the purpose.  On it he hand copied the innumerable older tomes he had collected from the New Sith Wars, transmitting lore for future Sith Lords…

He paused as he raised the stylus said to be made from a bone of Xelian the Destroyer herself.  Then licked his lips…

“Yessssss…” he hissed out.  Spinning quickly he avoided the shadowed blade twisting out with his nails like claws to tear into the face of his attacker. 

He tasted the blood of his success on his reptilian tongue as it flicked out. It was low in sugars…could it be…

Oh Vectivus! he thought as he spun into a crouch as his assassin continued to assail him, Xithar kept his movements restrained not wanting to knock the pot of rich black ink onto his carefully written scroll.

An assassin what a beautiful surprise gift! The cruelty of it was delicious, Xithar hadn’t been here for two months, always the long term planner was Vectivus, yet sometimes that was as much failing as strength – he focused too much on the future and didn’t indulge the moment.

Finally getting a sight of the assassin Xithar smiled even more widely – it was a Chalacta Xithar had sent to assassinate Vectivus over two years ago…he had wondered what had become of her – by the violent but precise swings and maddened look in sickly yellow eyes it seemed Vectivus had done quite a bit of work on her.

Her assaults were quick, but tinged with fatigue, not doubt she had been here longer than she had brought supplies for – the Fortress was more tomb than laboratory, deliberately so, many wuld come in – only a true Sith would come back out.

Gracefully retreating backward he gained room on her before launching forward fingers into her cheek while his other hand plunged through her light armour into her stomach, he revelled in the soft wetness across his scales.  She stiffened in pain as he laid her down gently.

Vectivus had failed to kill Lucovis once more…and frankly it was a paltry effort – every day Lucovis worried more his apprentice would not succeed in killing him – he hoped Vectivus had some kind of elaborate long term plot being woven - if he did not, the Sith Line failed, the time honoured tradition of Apprentice slaying Master broke apart.  Dominance and evolution would be stymied.  Lucovis could not allow the True Sith in the Line of Bane to falter – if Vectivus did not act more decisively soon…

Well Lucovis was already exploring other options.

The Chalacta’s gurgling of blood brought him out of his reveries.

“Oh no my sweet…” he crooned in her ear as he pulled his bloody hand out to tear at her clothing

“…we are far from finished.”


He peered into the depths of the handwritten tome scanning for things he had forgotten in the years since he wrote it – it was not a verbatim copy rather his take on the text, with new insights he had gleaned, mistakes the original author had made corrected, anachronisms removed…the section on taming a Purrgil for travel and the complexities of building a void capable pod on its back removed given hyperdrive technology had significantly advanced in the last 5000 years.

This was a key task, to improve with each generation, this went for knowledge and individuals.  He could just hear the sounds of the Chalacta screeching her pain into feeding the wyrms in the dungeons beneath him.  Vectivus assassination may have failed, but Xithar had at least extracted a great deal of pleasure from her…now to the tome…

It compiled much of the advances in Sith Alchemy achieved during the New Sith wars, with Lucovis own notations in the margins.

“Ah there it is…”

There was his failure…comically something he had noted years before but forgotten – he had defaulted to Sorzus Syn sub-flow instead of using the in-pace techniques pioneered by the Sorcerer of Tund to match the bio- rhythm of the wyrm with the subject before instigating the transformation.     

He glanced around the study at the tomes and devices made or collected by every master and apprentice since Bane himself – well those that he could obtain at least.

“So much knowledge…such limited time and thoughts” how he longed for the ability to integrate it all more perfectly…to have the cognition of a God…

Another scream echoed below him, more visceral this time –the wyrms had obviously begun eating flesh as well as emotion – she had remained so impassive as he took his pleasure from her…no more it seemed.

He had failed…twice with his experimentation on the clones he had obtained from Lyr, too sure of his own abilities he had not reckoned with the complexity of their biology and connection to the force.…

That left him with only eighteen clones.  But the lessons had been valuable and carefully placed the failures would serve him still. 

This was what differentiated a true failure from a future winner, the willingness to learn from his mistakes and not ruminate on the finite resources of time and energy wasted in the pursuit.

“Vigo,” the voice came on his comm link ,”Apologies for the interruption- as requested you wished to be informed immediately – a ship is approaching the Bimmiel Mine,”

Right on time he smiled. 

And so we move from Act 1 to Act 2 ...  The Jedi have had a shot at them, but now they have to deal with the Sith.

LSG, your plotting and laying out of story elements is incredible.  Thank you again, not just for this but for letting us cross-over with you and integrate our stories into a shared universe.  I know Dutchman will agree with me that your storyboarding and ability to lay out the plot elements is key to making ALL of us better writers.  This chapter is an excellent example of that, as we shift smoothly from the concluding battle with the Jedi and into the coming Sith storm.

I just can't imagine, though, how the Aethans are going to react to someone actually stealing their children...    *shudder*

And on a side note...  I think Sofa is about to take the "Reproductive Health Class" from hell....

This is the beauty of this chapter: we go from one incredible scenario that we've been anticipating to yet another one that we're eagerly waiting for (namely, how the Sith vs. Aethans will play out...  ;))

These disparate threads have been deftly interwoven, LSG.  And I completely agree with Karm (as he knew that I would  ;D): your storyboarding is superb, the narrative between Mak'Tor, Jedi, Ubese, Aethan, and Sith wonderfully flowing, not only from one to another but also within their respective scenes (I still love how you've put the perfect presentation of the Siths' ambition and expectations between Vectivus and Lucovis).  And as with all of them, I think that Soryu put it best: "Failure…failure would be his greatest teacher."  Too bad such teachings can be incredibly painful...

And I had to Lol with this, Karm: "And on a side note...  I think Sofa is about to take the "Reproductive Health Class" from hell...."   Um...yeah  :D

Hah yeah...that's coming up in C21....

Yeah lots of threads, and a few more to come in...which is in someways problematic as much like GoT I have lots going on at the same time in different places which has been a challenge as it breaks apart narrative threads for a while...Anyway C20 is coming which will pick up with Milaea from C16.

I also like the Jo'Set "stalking horse" threads.   That guy is WAY down the dark path with his vengeance.  I do NOT see it ending well.   I can certainly understand, though, how this could badly tarnish the name of the entire Mack clan.  Or at least make members of the Order and the M'Tzigon government wary of rouges...

But the main event of this chapter seems to be Sith v Aethan, and we have indeed been waiting for this. Probably because we've seen them beating up on the "good guys" for a while now - lets see them hammer some bad guys!  LOL

Anyway, I love these stories, LSG.  Though we may have to discuss how to dial down the whole "god mode" thing...  ;-)

(Yeah, Karm, you're one to talk!  Darned magic crystals....)

I wouldn't worry too much around Chapter 29-30 the main heading is 'Limitations'....

:o

Man, LSG...wait to keep us in anticipation and suspense  ;D

The lights in her room were off, as though any illumination, any source of brightness might expose the vileness of her thoughts.

She thumbed the link-orb between her breasts…it was where Kiraea and the girls kept theirs – touching skin to be activated easily.

When she had left Aethas…it seemed like an easy task, either Maynard of Valens would slide in, hook up with Jarys and Kiraea and sneak them out.

That wasn’t happening.  Jedi intransigence had stopped them finding an easy way out…a refusal to consider a truce from Sofa had them resort to what they were best at – swift merciless violence.

The fight was raging, the jungles were burning.

Why…why couldn’t they just leave them alone? Didn’t they understand that pursuing the People was counterproductive…Every time they attacked them they pushed them closer to becoming an Oblivion Army that would turn the galaxy to dust.

Sitting up she held herself, feeling the weight of the task she now had to perform. 

She hoped she would find the clones intact and an up jumped Vigo demanding a ransom.  She knew better.

Whoever did this she had to destroy – completely.  If she didn’t it was only a matter of time before the others came to join her, and they would be far less discerning in whose heads they took in retribution for the kidnapping.

Milaea felt slightly ill at the dark bargain she had agreed to by coming here – unleashing horrific violence herself to avoid the People tearing the galaxy apart in vengeance.

There was little sympathy to be had for kidnappers, yet still she felt some, what poverty or pain had driven them to think stealing other people’s children was a valid course of action? Was it simply greed – or something worse?

What had driven her to this point – a love for he People mingled with desire to curtail their anger and thereby protect the galaxy from her own family – or something worse?

And how did it all tie into her visions of the future? The increasingly burdensome weight of fear she tried to drag along a less destructive path, would she stop this in time to prevent the formless evils birthing? 

The darkness offered no answers.  The feeling of the deaths transmitted through the link-orb was becoming painful to bear…lifting it off her body she placed it in the small box beside the other four.

These thoughts were dark and ugly, unbalancing a Gray might say…she needed…a little lift…something to boost her out of the worry. 

There was still a little time, sliding her hands up along her thighs she began washing the dark away and relieving the burden of the future with her own luminosity.


Milaea glided the Aethena silently and swiftly toward Jonex Mine Eight Eleven B asteroid mining colony. 

The system near Bimmiel didn’t even have a name, just a designation - MZX32905 – it was a potent reminder of just how few systems were actually explored across the galaxy…empires and civilizations across a million star systems could rise and fall knowing nothing of the Republic at all…she suddenly felt very small.

The Aethena handled beautifully, it was a marvel of Chiss efficiency, Mon Calamari smoothness, and hardy Kuati and Corellian engineering, sub light travel smooth and fast, the Blackstone hulls density inured it to many of the gravity fluctuations that rumbled most starships.

The ship was far quieter than any she had flown on before, and roomy despite its sleek exterior design, a spacious cargo area at the back flowed into a main corridor, four rooms either side, closest to the cargo bay a medical and science station, opposite an engineering and armoury room. Next to them and before the cockpit two bedrooms with their own refreshers. 

<Silent as the void the fleet slipped out trans-hyper-space smooth as silk no longer subject to the inelegant juddering of realisiation …The Outsider fleet engaged – itself - Captains turned raving mad under the invisible influence of twisted words and illusions firing on their own as Dark Blade Destroyers unleashed invisible missiles. >

“There’s a bad feeling on that asteroid…I’ll take point,” Maeson noted breaking her second sight – there was a gluggy dead feel to the aether about the asteroid

“No…” she replied, “I’ll take care of this, you hold back and see what you can find,”

He frowned about to say what she could hear him thinking.

“I’m no more important than anyone else Maeson,”

“Yes you are Milaea, you can’t pretend you’re not,” he said firmly dispelling her notions she might ever be seen as an equal instead of a superior being.

“But you don’t want to be…and that’s why I’ll do what you order,” he finished.


They were called the Brood of the Red Claw, 29 in total comprising three full hatches from the same Mother.  The Barabels were brood mates, their mother had been a dark side cultist on Barab 1 and sought a teacher, a master.

She had found one.

They were arrayed throughout the mansion built on and into the asteroid.  The asteroid itself resonated with the energy, deep and old, they drew on to strengthen them in their test – their master had tasked them with proving themselves by destroying the one he would send to them.   

All this she took from their surface thoughts as they attacked – the darkness of this place had so overwhelmed them they had lost most rational thought and acted like primitive hunters laying ambushes or rushing in berserk frenzies. 

She marched through the tastefully affluent halls and rooms tearing them to pieces – as if experimenting with her telekinetic powers to see just what she could do. 

She imploded the heads of ambushers, slammed chargers against the grounds so hard they splattered, tore entire skeletons through scales with a micro thought, and liquefied organs of Barabels three rooms away with the sheer strength of her telekinetic grip.

She noted the cameras watching from every corner, this was testing her not them.  Whoever had taken the clones wished to learn about her…she would show them nothing unique in terms of technique, only the extremities to which she could take it 

It was not the Jedi thing to do, deliberately brutalizing one enemy in order to intimidate another…but she was no longer just a Jedi.  The Aethans were few as it was, they needed to use fear to dissuade superior numbers of their current and future enemies.

She finally reached the leader of the group, the female who had taken the mantle from the original brood mother.  It charged with two sabres, shining claws and ravenous teeth. 

It didn’t stand a chance. 

Milaea pinned it in the air and used the aether in thin precise arcs to slice its limbs and tail off, squeeze the exposed arteries and veins to prevent blood loss as the torso floated in the air. 

She pushed into its mind seeking the name and details of its true master…but it knew nothing, a shadow in a deep red robe that spoke through a voice distorting mask, the Brood of the Red Claw did not question its orders or care for minutiae. 

She could learn nothing more from the barely sentient beast and sliced its head off with a razor thin blade of energy.


Surveying her surrounds she sensed no immediate threats.  The deeper she went down the greater the sickly dead feel became…once she would’ve described it as ‘dark’.  It was like Korriban in a way, something powerful had lived and died here, but whilst Korribans energies pooled around individuals this was more suffuse…like Aethas a whole aether sensitive species had risen and fallen here. 

She spared a glance to one of the various ‘hidden’ cameras, idly wondering if she was passing this test set for her…it didn’t matter either way, she was past all tests and judgement, she would act as she thought fit, no longer chained to Jedi dogmatism, or Republic upper class morality she was free to kill, love and live without restraint.

And she had the raw power to do so without fear of retribution or resistance, the only limit was Her own imagination.

Yes…This was what it was to be a Goddess.

….Or so the thoughts of this place wished to make her believe…it was very subtle, playing on her most base desires to act like a Goddess without restraint or care…Someone had planted subtle pride masquerading as self confidence in the aether…

But she knew this trick…in her dream fogged memories of Aethena she used it all too often to seduce and manipulate the ancient Aethan technocracy around her…

She smirked, whoever was arranging all this wanted to know what she was capable of…so far all they would learn was that she was capable of resisting and obliterating their cronies.

Another whisper in the aether, she plunged deeper.


There were three of them, Fallen Fallanassi.

She had rounded the corner from the man-made basement into the natural caves into the screaming maw of a Rancor. It was detailed but unimpressive, she waltzed right through the illusion with a bored sigh into her helmet.

Her mind was assailed with twisted visions of Sofa being brutally raped and tortured, Soryu having his eyes torn out…all attempts to distract her. 

The deeper she went the more visual and auditory illusions they created…but ultimately they were limited to what they could scrounge from her surface thoughts for people to torture, only Soryu and Sofa writhed in agony and screamed for her help. 

Soon they reverted to more typical monsters, giant serpents and zombie like creatures.  Becoming desperate they began to try and twist her perception of space with endless corridors, mirrored walls, a perceptual abyss…

She sighed again, wandering the caverns randomly, just waiting…she checked her visors chronometer, she’d been here ten minutes, as Sofa naked and burning ran toward her screaming for help.

It was getting embarrassing, but she knew even with the asteroids aetheric energies to draw from soon the Fallanassi she sensed would wear themselves out through mental fatigue….

Finally over Soryu’s screaming as he was lashed by some random gamorreans she sensed the slight shift behind her. Milaea ducked low and shot her right arm up catching the wrist wielding a glowing electroblade intended for her back.

She clamped down and shattered it, she didn’t even need the aether, her genetically enhanced strength was more than enough to shatter bone even through a vac suit. Pulling her attacker forward, over her head and straight into her left fist which shattered through the Fallanassi’s Helmet she sent her flying across the tunnel, crumpling dead against the roughly hewn rock.

Now the other two came at her, blades whirled about as she ducked and twisted…she felt their thoughts, their memories as they tried to find a technique they knew to land a hit…oblivious to the fact that the more they thought the more knowledge she acquired off them, she saw their training, the rancor eat rancor life they had lead since leaving Lucazec, fighting, lying, killing for prestige and position,.

Their blows became even more furious, but her natural reflexes were far too quick for them to catch her…the whispers returned, yes this was the power of a Goddess…

Finally their slashes became fatigued, they were drained physically as well as mentally.  She kicked out smashing the knee of the one to her left, then pivoted into and upper cut to crack the jaw and teeth of the other. 

A perfunctory elbow to the sternum and stomp of the heel crippled each in turn as she began to rip their memories from their minds…again hired by a figure in a dark red robe years ago, treated as acolytes, but Milaea could tell to their true master they were simply playthings…Again nothing of value…she took what few techniques and memories were of use to her then smashed their faces into jagged stone outcrops. 


The ghosts of the Mynock like creatures that had lived here phased in and out of her vision as she delved deeper, it would be interesting to study the history of this force sensitive species on this odd asteroid…she would note it for later. 

Finally Milaea reached what seemed to be the source of the prideful whispers that tickled at her consciousness. 

In a small depression at the bottom of a large black cavern were two metal and transparisteel pods, smoothly curved white of Kaminoan design…the clones…two of twenty…and before them in the dim light cast by the life support system each pod gave off was a massive figure, 4.53 metres tall her senses told her, in a deep red robe.

“At last…we meet in person Knight Milaea…”

He stared across at the dark figure of the Jedi girl he had been watching.  She had slaughtered the Barabels and the Fallanassi brutally…yet a Sith master could tell, he noted the small moments of hesitation just before each kill, this was a woman not yet completely inured to her own capacity for violence…He would have to work on that were she to become his new apprentice.

“What do you want with us?”  She said calmly and clearly through her void capable armour of deep blood red – another point in her favour, she already had an appropriate wardrobe for a Sith Apprentice.

“I wanted to get your autograph…one of the two Jedi who decimated the Temple and plunged Coruscant into the Night of Madness…I’m a massive fan,” he proffered a thin piece of flimsy with a clip on pen.

“Sorry, you’ll have to go through my manager…I can give you the holo-mail address of the fan club if you want to sign up though, we sell signed pictures and shirts, for a few thousand credits you can have a set of used underwear,”  she jibed back at him as he felt her probe him gently with the force.

This was wonderful, she had a sense of humour as well, Vectivus could be so dry…and to offer her underwear…of yes a little bit of carnality! Ah but more of that later.

“I’ll look it up on Holoogle…” he replied slowly stepping toward her, “It’s seems I have something you want as well…but you must prove you are worthy to possess it…” 

Ever since he had felt the fight on Coruscant he had known he needed one of the two involved to test against himself and Vectivus…mainly Vectivus.  This Milaea, the younger of the pair would be far easier to convince to join the Sith he determined based on her hesitancy to use violence – whilst it may seem counter intuitive it showed trepidation, uncertainty that he could manipulate into turning her loose on Vectivus.

He could not lose, if she killed Vectivus, Vectivus had proved himself unworthy compared to her, if Vectivus won…then he was confirmed his place as true apprentice and would hopefully take the hint to try harder killing Lucovis.  Such was the way of the Sith.

“…But first,” he went on before she could reply, “Like any great undertaking you need to start small…so,”

He loosened his grip slightly, gently flowing back into his own body on distant Nimban.

He tossed off the red robe to reveal a hulking Mandallian, reptilian and over four metres tall, it had pointed fin-like ears and a face protected by a long tusk-like bony plate. The mouth filled with serrated teeth and needle-sharp fangs moved as he spoke from the creature once again.

“Defeat my little toy here and you’ll have proven yourself in the first challenge…your reward for this bout…” he gestured to the two pods with the huge hand

She looked over the huge creature before her, it was armoured in a vacuum capable suit of beskar, towering over her, its fist could easily squash her flat Xithar mused.

“Did I tell you how pretty you are Milaea…almost…unnaturally so….at any rate I enjoyed your beauty so much that when I enslaved this Mandallian Giant to my dominance…well I was wearing a force illusion that looked just like you…as a result he may be rather mad with you once I let go…what having made him rape and murder his own children and all….”

He finally released his hold and slid down in his chair, the wyrms dropping from his true eyes, dead husks now their power had been used.

He slowly rose up finding his feeling in his true body once more and summoned the holo screens in front of him, a few taps shut off the views of the mansion littered with barabel body parts to the fight in the main chamber that had just begun.


As the Mandallian giant charged fists swinging wildly Xithar could almost taste the girls surprise as she realised the giant was a force null following Xithars…preparations…no easy choke or crushing for this one, any force dregs left in the beast were gone once he had relinquished control.

She reacted with astounding speed nonetheless, dodging a heavy slam that cracked the rock floor and lit up the mixed infra-red and thermal scan footage he was receiving as the normal light wavelengths were too low in the cavern. 

Her style was typical Jedi close quarters combat, rolls and dodges, graceful slides as the Mandillian raged and tore toward her. Her sabre lit the room with a purple glow as she leapt in a ball to the neck and scraped the energy blade into white sparks against the armour Xithar had provided his plaything. 

Seeing that wasn’t going to work she deactivated it and continued to use her superior speed and dexterity to avoid being pummelled. Small lines of movement came from the back of her armour, twisting swifter than a normal eye could track, his Sith senses pushed to limit just watching her - the lines ending in the gaps between the cortosis plates on the giant. 

The Audio wave recorders on the lower left of the screen recorded four spikes of sound as four…something snapped.

Drawing on the dark side within him and on the asteroid he reached out to sense what she was doing…the Giant was a force null…but the four things she had just embedded in the Mandallian were not. 

He licked his lips in fierce admiration for her genius as she ducked another fist and rolled out from a stomp, all the while she was moving the four sharp blades she had stabbed him with through the Mandallians body, slicing it apart from the inside out.

The Giant faltered, began to rock, its movements jagged, it spasmed…and fell.

“Excellent!” he beamed at the screen before him…now for the true test…


The giant crashed down blood pouring from the entrances her shikkars had left in its joints.  It was a messy but effective way of killing, to embed four of the glass daggers and guide them through a beings body slicing internal organs apart.

She knew she was being watched…but for now it served her to allow it…for now…

Boots clanked against stone behind her as Maeson wandered beside her, his repeated slung over his back.

“Big ugly one…” he said through the suit comm,

“Very big….”

He pulled his pistol and put three swift bolts into its brain for good measure then strode over to the pods, pulled a device from his belt and scanned them,

“Goddesses Blazing Eyes….” His helmet light finally lit the children within…if children they still were…

They were twice the size they should be, spiked vertebrae protruding from their spines, one had a clawed soft bone hand, the other an elongated snout with randomly set teeth.

She stepped forward and expanded her senses toward the pods, there was no mind, no consciousness to fight against, only the unprompted whirl of potential sentience.

She felt Maeson tailing her thrust into each one at once…bolstering her force scan with his presence…it was not needed…but it was a supportive gesture.

And there it was, in the swirl of never born potential, a single dark thread, worming its way silently through the mutated child. Maeson’s emotions flooded with sadness, anger, despair.

“We can’t fix this” he said coldly

She nodded keeping her own emotions locked behind a wall of pragmatic logic. They both knew what had to be done…they had written all twenty off as soon as they learnt they were captured…There was a sick economics to the fact they could just order more to replace them.

“I’ll do it,” he said as his hands clicked on his heavy repeater rifle.

She didn’t give him the chance.

She closed her eyes and squeezed the tiny skulls to pieces, black, red and an unnatural green pink polluted the light bubbly bio mix they were in as the indicators on the pods went red and beeped in a low thrum.

Maeson didn’t betray any emotion as she turned and walked away. 

As she reached the chamber door she heard the dzump-dzump-dzump of his repeater shredding the remnants of the pods and the bodies to atoms, intent on leaving their enemies nothing more that could be used against them.



Xithar could not keep his smile off his face, the girl was a prodigy, able to detect the true seeds he had planted in the clones, and willing to destroy them rather than risk letting a tainted child grow. 

He was of course disappointed his first two experiments in Sith Alchemy and these clone had failed…but they served him still in this way – Everything would serve him.

She would make a perfect Sith Lady.

But now time to continue his experimentation on the other clones…



As the Black Spear tip ship glided soundlessly from the Bimmiel Mine, amidst the asteroids, beneath layers of rock and substances no one in the Republic had yet analysed, an observer stroked a fleshy bulbous growth to communicate across to the sister blob of bio matter all that had been learnt.

Nice....

So, Milaea is fighting to prevent the Oblivion Army.  Xithar is not helping her....

One thing: Holoogle!   Brilliant!  :-)

The battle was brutal.  Her time training with the other Aethans has progressed her.  I almost feel sorry for Xithar.  Almost.  I do feel sorry for the rest of the children.  To be the subject of Sith Alchemy experiments...   *shudder*

Still, nicely done.  I suspect that Milaea will be more than Xithar can handle, even if he has Vivectus to help him...

You know, while Milaea may definitely be more powerful than Xithar, I'm thinking that she hasn't yet experienced a foe with his sensibilities, or should I say "lack of."  Supremely patient, a willingness to do anything to further his aims, and an absolute disregard for anyone other than him; yeah, I think we're going to get a surprise about how our Sith Lord matches up against the neo-goddess.  But I'm thinking that it's going to be one hell of a learning curve for them both  ;)

Nice switch up, LSG.  Tonally, his chapter was much different (as it should be!)  Now with the inclusion of the Banite Sith, we'll get to see how Mili's dreams of averting the Oblivion Army survive the confrontation (those poor clone embryos  :(). 

BTW, it still never ceases to amaze me of your encyclopedic knowledge of SW.  I'd never even heard of the Fallanassi  :D   Absolutely wonderful integration!

Seriously guys, I think that we need to have books, movies, comics covering what we've all written; certainly better than the current canon IMO  ;)

I agree, Xithar is unlike anyone she's ever faced.   But he's also suffering from a fundamental misunderstanding of her.  He's thinking in terms of Jedi vs Sith, light vs dark.  From everything I've read and seen in these stories, the Aethans just do not think that way.  In that regard they are the ultimate "grays".  They simply use the force.  Period.

And Milaea will have no compunction about taking him down.  She hesitated with her kills because she could - and she knew she could.  When she's truly stressed and in a corner...   Bam.  He's gone....

Thanks guys glad Xithar  works as a villain I really wanted him to defy expectations both for the Aethans and my readers. Wish I could discuss more of your comments but just too much Spoiler potential!

PS Karm need a jacket? you * shudder* a lot reading this lol!

I feel cold...  ;-)

“Aephordaea’s words are kind and gentle, they flow smoothly from her mouth,” her finger danced out of Sofa’s mouth across her lips and down her body,

“Aephordaea’s breasts nurture and calm all her children as they lay their heads upon them,”

This was getting weirder by the second

“And Aephrodaea’s…”

“OK you’re not putting your fingers there!” Sofa finally protested

“Quiet this is important!” Kiraea responded angrily

“…here Aephrodaea gives herself and others pleasure and from here are all children are brought forth, the most sacred parts of us need the most attention,” her fingers gliding over Sofa in spite of her protests…at least her fingers were warm.

“That’s how we remember, with stories…those are the three places we produce pheromones from, most as part of natural lubrication, but some from glands under our tongues and mingled with modified sweat glands along our breasts…but that’s so technical so that’s why we use stories instead,”

“You can’t just write it down?”
Kiraea glance was scathing enough to make Sofa afraid she would spontaneously combust,

“You better listen girl, or you’ll get in a lot of trouble, you don’t want to get any more congested than you are trust me,”

“Girl?”

“Girl until you finish your lessons you’re still a girl,”

“Whatever bitch,” Sofa snidely replied

Kiraea leapt up, arms crossed and stared at the wall of the cabin, offence pouring off her.

“I don’t have to do this you know! I could let you fill up till you turn red!”

Sofa sagged down…Kiraea did not seem to appreciate how weird it was for Sofa to have a woman she barely knew touching every part of her and asking her the most intimate questions possible…but being congested with pheromones sounded like a bad thing, Sofa already felt very clogged in very personal ways that she didn’t know how to relieve.

“I’m sorry…” she conceded, “I should listen to you…its strange but I respect its part of your…religion and culture…and I chose to join it…I shouldn’t refuse to participate…”

Recalling Milaea’s lesson Sofa sat up and waited to see if Kiraea would accept.

She spun around and spread her arms, like Sofa she was completely undressed…not an unappealing sight…but still odd.

“That’s alright…Milaea didn’t like it at first either, she had her own way of managing though… I still don’t understand how your ill-informed culture became so technologically advanced,” To seal the apology Sofa leaned into her hug…only to be assailed by a wet full mouth kiss as well.

“I can feel this is strange for you…” Kiraea climbed back on the bed,

“But you have to learn…our bodies are designed to make lots of babies and get lots of pleasure doing it…and they get confused when that doesn’t happen - if you don’t learn how to balance and release your pheromones and hormones you’ll become hysterical and over sexualised…”

“Great…”

“Not as much as you’d think…now listen carefully to this story…Once Aephordaea planted a seed in her garden and it grew for three days carefully, then three more days vigorously, each day its perfume grew stronger and stronger ”

Deeper meaning trickled into Sofa’s mind along with Kiraea’s words…uterine lining develops over six days, during which sexual arousal and pheromone release gradually increases

“Then for three days it was fully in bloom, beautiful red and pink petals and perfume that grew all the bees to it with their pollen…” three day fertile period when pheromones are at their height attracting males…

“And when by Aephordaea’s blessing the stigma of the flower was touched just right it released four eggs to join with the pollen…” their four ovaries only release eggs during the fertile phase and in response to sexual stimulation

“…But the moon was dull that day so the flower constricted the style so it wouldn’t quicken…”contraception was achieved by aetherically constricting her own tubes…

“And so it was every three by three days…but one time the bees didn’t come…the Flower was fully in bloom and got confused so it sent out more perfume…and more…and more…till it got very distressed…” without any kind of stimulation during the fertile period pheromone production increases determined to attract a mate …mental states gradually shift to focus solely on mating with a nymphomaniacs hunger

“But finally the bees came back and the Flower was most happy again…but one day the bees came every day…sometimes a dozen times a day…the flower liked it for a while…but after three by three days of constant visits the bee went away again…and the flower couldn’t function…it was so used to the excitement it got very depressed…” the other danger to their reproductive biology was potential addiction to their own pleasure…out of cycle copulation was encouraged but needed to be moderated…too much would cause problems

“It made so much perfume it couldn’t stop - forgetting it needed to drink in the water from the soil and carbon from the air….finally it began to wilt until another flower sensing its distress soothed it and helped it with its own pheromones….” which was in essence what Kiraea was doing now

“So…because I haven’t jumped my hyperdrive since leaving for Sinkhole…my thinking was altered by my sex drive?” Sofa interjected

“That’s an inelegant way of putting it….but yes…you didn’t attend to your needs – you have to look after what the Goddesses have given you carefully….too much or not enough…”

Sofa swallowed back a reply thinking on what that meant…taking her transformation as a starting point…that was nearly 15 days…well over a nine day cycle…and would put…

Did I forgive Valens…help him against the Jedi because of some hormonal imbalance… it was a disturbing thought that her recent actions might have been driven not by reason or her morality but instead base biology wanting to get her man in bed….

“Is that such a bad thing?” Kiraea queried her thoughts “You Jedi think too much of mind and body as different…” Kiraea’s finger pointed up across Sofa’s body

“You’re one whole person, the combination of all things…but you can worry about that later now you need to learn the specifics….”

Kiraea’s teaching was by necessity explicit, messy and hands on, using the aether to control her reproductive and endocrine systems as a method of contraception, working out how to release her pheromones out of cycle - even as Kiraea’s understanding and experience flowed into Sofa’s mind, her body reacted in differently…each woman unique in hormonal base levels and physical stimulation responses. 

It combined physiology, biology and chemistry with theology, Kiraea reciting ever more special stories about the Goddesses to explain things…the story about Aethenaea and Aertemisaea using vibrational telekinesis to create ‘beautiful music’ in their ‘summer garden’ after ‘wrestling’ would read on paper as erotic fiction…but combined with telepathic prompts taught a useful method of rapidly adjusting thermoregulation and cognitive focus after exercise or combat by exploiting a reproductive feedback loop.   

It was perhaps the oddest few hours of Sofa’s life to be doing such intimate things with a woman she had only spoken about four times…

Yet there was warmness …their minds and bodies were melded…Sofa began to understand Kiraea deeply - the physical, cultural and spiritual were all one - there was no delineation between public and private to her…Sofa’s body and its functions were as important to Kiraea as her own.

She felt strangely…home.
Trailing at the end of the convoy of Chiss ships the mood was far darker.

His brother looked utterly defeated…almost catatonic…compared to the heights of action he had experienced over the last week it was a surreal parallel.  It was like sitting beside a black hole that wanted to suck him down into defeatism and despair

“It was too much to ask of yourself…of anyone to bring them back to life…” he tried to comfort Valens,

“It’s not failure to not achieve the impossible…” he thought about the other issues they were facing…the clones.

“You couldn’t have predicted they would be taken….who knows you might’ve been killed trying to stop them…we are only mortal” he doubted the Jedi would agree with that last sentence now, they had not only gotten away but Sofa’s plan had done a lot of damage – and not just physical.

It didn’t seem to be working…Jarys looked to Arxis whom they had picked up along with some 40 vornskrs kept in the hold, the Yruts in the third ship of their small flotilla kept away from the carnivores with Maynard and Xandra. The Vorynx simply blinked offering little in the way of help, made a small growl then paced back toward the hold.

Perhaps…the wookie…the simplicity of the accord they had reached.

He reached over to grasp his brother’s shoulder

“Don’t think so much brother, we plan like Aethenaea, fight like Aertemisaea, then go home and have sex like our woman is Aehprodaea…” he felt a sudden jump in his heart rate thinking about Kiraea and their moments before the hunt that had nearly killed him…his fantasies must’ve been a little strong as Valens gave him an quizzical look.

“That is our role, nothing more than that, you’ve done your fighting, once we get to Station 3 and Sofa is initiated by Kiraea…it’s what we are made for, embrace our biology,” he finished with a smile.

There was a horrifically primitive simplicity to Jarys advice, but perhaps that was what Valens needed…to not have to think too much…to just…

“Live for once instead of fighting brother, just live” Jarys finished his thought.
White frost came from his mouth with each breath, druasteel and medi-plas was coated in thin layers of sleet.  It was not especially comfortable for falleen in such cold places, but he would endure it.

Darth Sicara stood to the side with his monitoring equipment.  The Siniteens expertise originally lay in chemical weapons, poisons and the like, but easily transferred to relate fields of genetic analysis and biology when they had been contacted by the ‘Dead Ones’ years before.  Xithar did not trust the Black Sun’s experts in this matter, this was a matter for Darth Lucovis not Vigo Xithar.

The analysis compiled over a week of scans and sampling of the clones was…intriguing…fully unpacking what these humanoids were capable of would take years, even the best predictive models were limited, genotype to phenotype was difficult to determine in even the simplest species with much accuracy…and these creatures were far from simple.

“There are clear signs of manipulation and direct editing…natural selection does not produce such precision, does not eliminate scrap coding pairs this efficiently…” Sicara had noted

“Is it just this sample that has been edited or is it the template?”

“Uncertain at this point, I simply don’t see even the Kaminoans being capable of something like this…this is decades if not centuries of work assuming what I believe is a Human-Miraluka hybrid starting point…it would take years to analyse - the pubertal changes alone I have refrained from making predictions about…it is simply too complex.”

Xithar danced his fingers along the medi-trans-steel lid of a male infant - he had already begun his Sith Alchemical experiments, but with little success as the two offered up to Milaea as a prize showed, it seemed conventional genetics was of little aid either.

“If I were to obtain an adult sample…would that assist?”

“No…I wouldn’t be able to screen out what is environmental and what is genetic in an adult…I would need at least a few dozen to develop a reasonable model.”

His yellow eyes blinked beneath near white skin, evidence of a lack of sun exposure for his years in laboratories such as this.

“Perhaps if I understood your intentions my Lord…I could refine my analysis and work…”

“hmmmm….” Xithar mused considering his options…twenty of them…and the Terraforming Vectivus had noted…they were rebuilding a world…if not a civilization…

The Clones were a resource he did not want to waste…yet if he did not use them soon their true owners would come to claim them…a being like Milaea would find him sooner rather than later.

And so this became an opportunity…a chance to experiment with an idea he had entertained in recent years as he waited for Vectivus to attempt to kill him and take his mantle….

“Prepare five of them for awakening…I have a plan in mind,”
“So your Goddesses…” Sofa noted in between lessons, the small cabin filled with the creamy musk of pheromones,.

“They’re yours too now,”

“Right…so you actually believe in them, as in they exist out there somewhere,”

“Ugh so much ignorance,” Kiraea seemed exasperated 

“The Goddesses exist in us, around us, outside us,”

“Riiiight…” Sofa replied not understanding at all,

“Ugh…” Kiraea propped herself up “Every time we perform a Rite we embody Aephordaea…She fills us, we become her, we are her, we make her…” she gave Sofa’s breast a squeeze “When we fight, when we are brave and daring or protective we become Aertemisaea, when we are clever or learn things we become Aethenaea,”

Meaning flowed in the aether…it was a Symbiotic relationship…their Goddesses were avatars of their own actions and culture…they were real in the same way a mascot represented a razor ball team….and relied on each other just as much – no team no mascot, but without a mascot the team had no focus.

“Close enough for someone raised by Outsiders,” Kiraea read her thoughts,

“They are sovereign beings they can help you, fill you with strength or knowledge when you need it…but they can only help if they are strong enough first…” Kiraea hand trailed down her ribs to her legs,

“So we have to do the things that make them strong…train and fight for Aertemisaea, Learn and Study for Aethenaea….”

“Make love and babies for Aephrodaea…” These were not all powerful Deities like the Mak’tor Maker, these were visceral entities focused on one People, one Planet, limited by their followers knowledge and power, but still able to harness power and give it to those who needed it.

“Exactly, what use is a Goddess without daughters to look after?”

Sofa’s brow furrowed, “Daughters only,”

Kiraea looked at her oddly,

“Of course, how can anything that can’t bear children be sacred…males are useful in their way that’s why we have the pheromones to control them,”

“So you’re matriarchal feminist lesbians who snookle each other as a religious act?”

Kiraea snorted,

“We’re People, we don’t need labels,” she turned on top of Sofa hair falling to the sides,

“Enough talking…time to embrace our Goddess,”

“Is everything ready,” he asked the Siniteen

“Everything is in readiness master…the candidate and the materials positioned according to your designs.”  Kor’Sep or Darth Sicara as he thought himself to be bowed and pulled back. 

Lucovis quite liked Sicara, of all his sub-apprentices he was by far the most intelligent, the shame was his connection to the force was barely Jedi average – he would never excel, could never perform a true Dark Séance or Black Rite of Transmutation on his own.

In the back of the room he noted the tubes containing other experiments on pieces recovered from ‘Dead Ones’…a trade of sorts…he would need to speak to their leader again soon, consider how best to manipulate them into this situation.  Setting the thought aside he plucked the first fear-filled subject of this experiment.

A little stroke was all it took and the wyrm bit in, its poison glands expelling their foul contents into his blood stream…he was used to it, having built up a resistance over decades...the poison lost on him - but the concentrated power it had fed on – fear, ecstasy, pain, rage – ah that flowed freely

His fingers tingled as he prepared, his mind forming the image of what he wished to create…for Sith alchemy was more art than science.  The ancient practitioners had wrought wonders, the Massassi creatures of Exar Kun, the Sithspawn Leviathans of Remulus Dreypa…Yet Lucovis needed nothing so brutish or inelegant.  This was a more civilized age for the Sith.

Energy began to flow off of him, he was a conduit, channelling the power of fear the wyrms had fed off into the infant in the pod before him…it began to thrash and kick against the nutrient rich stasis fluid as he focused his power on what Sicara had identified as its equivalent to a pituitary gland.

Hormones released within it as Sith power catalysed accelerated growth, it sucked in the fluids around it, the pain leaching off of it as bones began to grow faster than skin and muscle.

He moderated the flow…slowing the rate at which he placed more wyrms on his body – too fast and it would burst in furious meaty growth, too slow and it would stall and rebel against the unnatural genesis.

It got bigger, and bigger, it needed more and richer nutrients than they could provide…the most primitive part took its mind as it sought more nutrients, pure survival.  The husks of wyrms, their power spent dropped off of Xithars body as he lay suspended above the tank, above him further the Wyrms vessels that he opened with the force as needed.

The infant, more toddler size now found a new source of food…newly ruptured teeth delved into the second infants flesh…it screamed in silent tones as it was consumed, the new creation growing ever faster with the influx of raw material.

This was what it was to be a God Lucovis mused as his body tingled with the flow through of energy…to create life, to twist it, to forge it to your own desires…and dominate its every thought and action.

There were three more infants for it to consume, it did so dutifully as raw pink tendrils of flesh erupted in the form of limbs, the creature swelling and pulsing with grotesquely beautiful cannibalised life.

Finally it was finished…Lucovis heaved in exhaustion as the now teenage sized being floated amongst the ruddy pink fluid that had been pure clean blue hours before, small flecks of bone and viscera floating past its face.

He had created...life.

“And then he’s like ‘rrr I’m gonna slice you to pieces’ so I pull at his legs with the aether and he flops back straight into the table smashing all the drinks anyway!”

“Pfffft” Sofa supressed her laugh at Kiraea’s story.  They got along rather well now sharing a ribald sense of humour…though having spent four hours naked and all over each other was bound to join most women together.  Although there were practical aspects to the Rites, Sofa suspected Kiraea used it to indulge her sexual desires with other women.

“What a laser brain…” Sofa noted absently stroking Kiraea’s arm…it was…disturbing how quickly she felt connected…if they connected this deeply this quickly…then Valens desire to bring the dead back, their willingness to annihilate anyone who tried to harm them was perhaps not a matter of culture or absent morality, but unavoidable biology…

“OK I have another one, before I was Master Neirai I had a mission to Senex and there was this bar…” the room filled with beeping,

“Frell, dropping to the next jump point….”Kiraea leapt out and straight to the cockpit, not bothering with clothes –a freedom Sofa envied as she picked up her panties… perhaps it was the thrill of transgression, perhaps the rush of hormones from ‘Rites’ with Kiraea…she dropped them and followed. 

“How long now…” Sofa asked as she followed her new best friend in time to see the stars return to pinpricks across the veil of night.

“Three hours out still…Adaea will meet us at Station 3,” Kiraea said rapidly punching in numbers to the console calculating the jump manually rather than by Navicomputer....Sofa took a chance and gently brushed her mind, a warm welcome was followed by understanding on astrophysics and precision calculus,

“Good you’re learning…now time to put it into practice,” she gestured to the air about her roughly where Valens depressed aura was dragging Jarys down, adopting her ‘story’ tone of voice as she spoke.

“Once Varas and Alinaea daughter of Alixaea went hunting, Varas went south, Alinaea North.  The asked Aethenaea for cunning and Aertemisaea for strength and endurance which they happily gave them.  They hunted for three by three days and then returned home with many pelts and enough meat for three winters!”

Everything was three Sofa sighed taking up the co-pilots chair.

“But they were not happy, they were both sad, and angry for having to slay so many animals even though they were allowed and needed to, it hurt them and they didn’t know how to feel better.”

Even People get traumatised by excessive violence….all the while Kiraea was still tapping keys on the console

“But Aephrodaea saw this, and she doesn’t like it when people are unhappy, so she taught Alinaea how to use her pheromones with a Rite to make her feel better…and she did but Varas was still sad…”
a build-up of cortisol and serotonin was cleared by a positive feedback loop of Aethan unique hormones present in their pheromones – Aephorisone was the name Kiraea had invented for it, it activated dormant enzymes that converted stress hormones to pleasure ones…with it they were virtually immune to biochemically driven depression, fear or anxiety

“So Aephordaea told Alinaea she should share with Varas, so she went to him and kissed his mouth full of the nectar of Aephrodaea…”

Males couldn’t produce Aephorisone, it was generated by female specific cellular structures…but they still had the enzymes…

“Varas was much less sad then but still wasn’t happy, so Alinaea held him down and used the Rite of Full Embrace three by three times and they were happy again!”

The application of pheromones alone was not enough, it needed to be combined with hormones released after sex to have full effect for both genders, the Aephorisone acted as a neuro-chemical reset and method of bonding mates together….Sofa realised what she had to do to drag Valens out of his depression.

“…it won’t solve the underlying issues…but with the clones stolen we don’t have time to deal with that right now…” Sofa said out loud…or perhaps thought loudly, the two were becoming interchangeable to her

Kiraea nodded “You need to look after your mate, husband whatever you call him, and mark him as yours properly with the Rite of Binding…it’s also fun if you tie them up” She leapt up and pulled Sofa up.

“You’re a full woman…again I suppose…and that has many benefits….” Kiraea’s wandering hands stroked as Sofa breasts

“But also many responsibilities…”

The Aephorisone would change Valens pheromone receptors, he would only be activated by her scent from then on…chemically bound to her.  Something about that was unsettling, using chemical means to cure a mental issue and control someone…yet…what better way to ensure she got the family she wanted.

“We’ll be docking in four minutes…It’s what he wants!” Kiraea said excitedly “Even if he doesn’t know it yet, that is just how it works…you both plotted like Aethenaea, you both fought like Aertemisaea and now….”

Now…Sofa felt the blood start rising once more…
Kiraea’s teaching fresh in her mind she knew what she had to do…her new people were truly a strange combination of intellectual sophistication and primitive physicality. 

Valens was slouching in the co-pilots seat, his presence little more than a whisper.  A thought squeezed the small pheromone glands under her tongue, another simultaneously spun his chair around and pinned him to it.

“Alright, no more sulking,”

“Your people and I need you out of this rut,” she almost dribbled the last words the sweet intoxicant flooding her mouth as she reached forward.

His eyes shot up and he caught her hand,

“Do you even understand what you’re doing?” He said in cold tones

“Getting what I want,” she stared down at him “And doing what we both need,”

This wasn’t the Jedi way at all…and she didn’t care – whatever it took to make her new life the way she wanted.  Whatever their recent friction she still loved and wanted him.  If these pheromones would make him more compliant then she was happy to use them.

He would be free of the doubts that plagued him for a time.  It was an easy out…and looking at her so familiar face before him…one he wanted.

He softened his grip and guided her hand to his shoulder, the strong creamy scent filled the space between them as she moved closer…to him and to getting the family she’d always wanted.  Their tongues met and the profane combination of bio-chemistry and religious rite began.

On the other ship Kiraea could only smile as she flooded her own mate, now fully recovered with Valens healing and several kilos of food in him, with her own pheromones – this would make them and their Goddesses all the stronger.


She flicked the small trinket between her finger, made of Grey-sleet - a mid-density mineral by Aethan standards – better known to the galaxy as phirk it depicted the Goddesses, all naked, with discrete symbols of their identity – the Bow of Aertemisaea held primed to fire, a book for wise Aethenaea and blossoming flowers on the arms of fecund Aephrodaea.  Another gift from her new family, a totem to connect her to her ‘Goddesses’.

Milaea had no memory of such devotion, the Technocracy of Aethena was secular, Goddesses were civic symbols, statues and paintings that adorned schools, hospitals, military facilities, government offices and the innumerable research facilities.  Aethenaea the ascendant of the three guiding their scientists to develop new and better genetic codes in quest of Apotheosis.

What would those scientists make of the People now…memories of Aethena mingled into symbology and myth to create a primitive religion that had no codified rules, sacred texts or tenets, only cultural memory and flexible rituals that were unashamedly for the emotional benefit of the practitioners.

She was wondering all this because it was easier to think about than the two infants she had killed, or the dozens of cultists before that. 

What would become of those two children, would the Goddesses find them?  Or were the mindless husks of no concern to them, Aethas too far to travel for Goddesses indelibly tied to the landscape and People.

The Goddesses were a mirror of the People, all their fears and hopes, xenophobia and carnality, a post-hoc justification for wanton brutality, horrific cunning and relentless sexual indulgence.  Like all religions she mused.

“They are just going on their own path…using powers without restraint, without oversight…they think they know what’s best for everyone because…of some…some book about a mythical being”

Her own words, with this logic she sent eighteen Mak’tor into oblivion…did their Maker find them?  Substitute ‘book about a Mythical Being’ for Culture or Goddesses and her condemnation of the People stood firm. 

As her thumb stroked the curved breasts of the model she wondered what kind of hypocrite that made her.  She had acted as judge jury and executioner to those two infants….aborting them for their imperfections and undoubted darkside taint…no restraint, no compassion…

She had destroyed the Mak’tor, because they acted in the name of the false Maker rather than under the auspices of the secular Republic - now she stood with a group twice as fanatical and ten times as deadly - whose belief system had neither Good nor Evil, only People and Outsiders.

“I know your true thoughts, I see through your self-deceptions,” Aethenaea seemed to laugh in the shadow of her face

“And I will make you Know Yourself,” Wisdom dripped from unmoving stone lips.

She had been wrong on Vyth, but not simply because of the horror she had unleashed – because she thought the Jedi and Republic were worthier authorities than the Mak’Tor and the Maker.

There was no high ground, no objective morality to appeal to, no divine authority, only false gods, fake queens and real monsters rending each other to pieces in the darkness of mortality.

Milaea smiled at the totem, now understanding its Wisdom – to plan, fight and mate this was all there was, the base requirements of biology, the survival of the tribe the only goal – no justification nor thought needed. 


His recovery would take a few days, but it was worth it to see the product…the potential…

It had not grown perfectly…subcutaneous black patches marred the being, the left arm was noticeably larger, the eyes vacant and expressionless.  Oh but it was possible…so possible to perfect it – to dominate this strange species biology just as he had the wyrms…

The first experiments had failed costing him five of the twenty, this one cost him another five to much better result…there was but one more step to prove the theory he had developed from his studies of Rivan’s Battelords, Karness Muur and Adendus transference and Vitiates dominance of alternate bodies… he began preparation for the final act.

Vigo Xithar had tasked Captain Tsen of the Nova Corps to attempt to obtain more clonesusing the navigational data on Lyr’s ship the Deft Player, the Captain had duly omplied by asking for more resources and then hiring Mando mercenaries to avoid the failure being his...clever if obvious...Lucovis had his own plan to obtain more clones of course - an old favour called in...Still Lucovis doubted Valens, Milaea and whoever was helping them would be caught off guard twice so he had to make do with what he had while he still had it.

The Creation lay face down on one altar, the ‘chosen one’ beside him – Darth Uvex another petulant boot liker dumb enough to submit to the ‘Ancient Ritual’.  Both had matching incisions cutting away the flesh from the spine – bonded wyrms wriggling as they latched onto nerve fibres in preparation for the transition.

This particular method was inspired not by Sith studies, but by learnings from the ‘Dead Ones’ and their bio-symbiosis or at least what Sicara could understand of it.  Adapted and twisted to use the Force as catalyst Lucovis believed he was on the right path.

The force revealed Darth Uvex thought this a great boon – perhaps it would be if he lived – to be implanted in such a powerful body…

The Zealots of the First Night arrayed around them – another cult Lucovis had suborned as mere workers – lighting flashing from their hands.

“Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world…” Lucovis recited in sonorous tones as the transference began.

Practical Theology ... perfect title.  The mysteries of how and why the Aethan goddesses work and exist are starting to come into focus - as is their overall attitudes toward "outsiders".  They are utterly pragmatic, and if the expression of their goddesses is in fact linked to their own strength and health it explains a LOT about how they work and why they would utterly dismiss something like belief in the Maker as both false and useless.  Milaea coming to the final conclusion that they're right - that the only true "religion" is to fulfill the basic needs of the People - plan, fight, procreate - is cathartic.  Sofa comes to the same conclusion, more because its the path to what she wants (Valens and his kids) than through the metaphysical reflection of Milaea, but still the same conclusion.

I wonder if they could come to any other, though, with the way they're wired?  These people, for all of their amazing physical and mental abilities, really are bound to their particular way of thinking and acting by their own biology.  In many ways, they lack the essential flexibility that tends to mark humanity.  Kinda makes me feel a little sorry for them.

But not as sorry as I feel for Xithar.  I wonder if Jo'Set could see the Aethans juxtaposed against a true Sith he might change his mind...

And speaking of Jo'Set, I am curious how he's going to play into this.  Bloody Macks....

Interesting, especially when you think that genetic imperative drives ALL species, the Aethans, moreso.  I'm inclined to think that Karm's assessment has more than the ring of truth to it: much of humanity is marked by a flexibility in both morality and tolerance.  Of course, such freedom has always carried a price, and one not always paid by the guilty party(ies).  That's what makes the Aethans an intriguing character study.

Now here's a Sith who is deep in the Alchemical practices of the Dark Side.  Something that we really haven't explored much, up until now.  Making matters worse: Xithar is perverting the Aethan embryos to serve his own purposes.  Yeah, this will end well  ;D

Hmm.  And just what is Jo'set up to?  ;)

>>>Binary Burst SubSpace Transmission:
[Beginning final Jump – Rendezvous Station 3 in 64 Minutes – L]
She smiled and set an alert for 64 minutes
[00:00:64:00] MARK<<<

An hour was enough time to do some maintenance on Station 3, cycle the defences through a few salvos, hard reboot the operating system to clear any abnormal data scraps…then once Lyaea got there they could transfer the Clone pods…

Hmmm…Clones was such an ugly word Adaea thought. Babies, they were babies – their babies. She was excited, happy they hadn’t had any trouble bringing them from Kamino so far, but still sad that the others had been taken – she hoped Milaea found them soon.

She got up to stretch out a little, bending over to touch her toes then swing side to side, naked as always when she was alone or with the girls, she caught her reflection in the view port –

“hmmm…318 grams too light…” she had been so busy installing the IFFs on the new transports she’d missed a meal.  A flick of the aether summoned two ration bars from the small kitchen, unwrapped and popped them in her mouth. 

Quickly tapping her fingers she checked the three new ships were still in line to translate to real space with her. She had only just finished provisioning them before she left home – three fully stocked Karintha Class Assault Transports ready for the to pursue the kidnappers, Adaea hoped the fourth, the Aethena with Milaea was doing well.   

As the Chiss freighter she was piloting shuddered back into real space her console lit up with alerts – delayed transmissions that had been scrambled through subspace…All alerts from Station 3…Defence Alerts….

Glancing into the view port she saw the automated cargo station floating as it normally did in a sable gravity pool between 312 nearby stars…but next to it…

“Uh oh…”

She had better get dressed.




“Cap ship dropping out, far edge of sensor range,”

Clapping Meeda Ordo on the shoulder with a smile Tern replied,
“First catch.”

Taking the station had been easy enough, solid defences it had to be said, but they were automated - couldn’t adapt as fast as they could, a few of the R-39’s soon put an end to the Turbo Lasers, the Besalisks finished off the shield generators and pierced through the blast doors.

It was located in an odd place, deep space rather than system orbital, off the regular hyperspace routes – not that there were many regular routes this deep into the core -exactly how or why anyone would put this here was beyond his pay grade to discern, there was nothing in this region but blazing stars, neutrino storms and radiation clouds. 

“Light Freighter, mid tonnage…one occupant…” Meeda Continued

“Send out Vhi’Viin to intercept,”

They’d already received the 800,000 taking the station, credits cleared and forwarded back to Ordo – another 700,000 if they took whoever was on that ship.  But most lucrative 1 million for each ‘clone pod’ they captured.

“Vhi’Viin enroute, 10 minutes to intercept,”

“Shirek-Hawk stand by to micro jump behind” Meeda added, she was competent second in command as any Commander could want, dedicated to the cause. It wasn’t nice work they did, but it had to be done - beggars can’t be choosers when it came to contracts.  The Clans were still living under shadow of the Dral'Han the devastation of their worlds - Ordo, Concord Dawn, Mandalore itself – the ‘Mandalorian Excision’ they called it.

The grand castration Tern called it, a shame his Grandfather had seen with his own eyes that spread down the generations and was rubbed in their faces with every proclamation of the Pro-Republic pacifist puppet government…but every credit they earned on the edge of the law was a step toward economic self-sufficiency, every battle they won a little pride restored.

“Strill follow them in for boarding, Meeda go with – make sure there are no disintegrations,”

The red armoured woman slid up gracefully for the beskar she wore.  He knew she didn’t like these jobs – Anonymous Employer, string of co-ordinates in the deep core, no guarantees, no back up…but she didn’t let that affect her work, she wanted Ordo rebuilt just as much as anyone.

“Cap Sweep of Storage Pod 4 complete no clone pods, just the same industrial equipment, some injector nozzles, moving onto Pod 5” hmm…only 6 storage pods and still no Clones…perhaps this ship was bringing them in.

“Tag anything we can salvage or sell for pick up later,.” 

He checked his chrono, 15 minutes till their contact ‘Gorog’ arrived to pick up any pods or prisoners – Tern wanted that 700,000…. 
 
“Alright boys,” he called over the Clan wide comm,

“Let’s get this little tusk cat caught, I want to see 1 million credits in the Ordo Rehabilitation fund by 07.30! ORDO OVERCOMES”

The comm clattered with the cheers of his crew “ORDO OVERCOMES”.



[00:00:58:22]

They had detected her ship….but if she had designed the magnetic absorption ceramic plating properly they wouldn’t have detected the other three ships… The Happy Gorbil the Smiling Gormin and the Lucky Gondur sailed silently behind her – she hoped the others liked the names, she thought they were nice – who doesn’t love a Happy Gorbil!.

The Black Spear tip shaped craft were wider and a little longer than the Chiss craft, but far more powerful – the product of Kiraea, Lyaea, Valens and her efforts in combing the best of dozens of technologies ‘We are few,’ Kiraea said, ‘So we Must be Better, and we need weapons worthy of us!’.

She clicked through her HUD to view the Gobrils long range scans – the Karintha Class transports used a Mon Calamari Radio-electromagnetic scanner with Chiss wave filters backed by a Kuati anti-peak cleanser – it was such an obviously better scanning device she wondered why no one else seemed to have thought of it before her.

She remembered sitting on the floor sewing with the other girls while all the older women talked and thought about new patterns and dyes for clothes, different combinations of gormin wool and cotton for different seasons...so many possibilities…Outsiders didn’t talk to each other like that - they didn’t even act like a People, she had seen twi’leks fighting twi’leks, B’omarr arguing with B’omarr…even the Senate of the Republic couldn’t agree on things…maybe that was why they didn’t integrate their technologies better.

There was one capital ship on her scanner - Mando-Motors Mythosaur class Cruiser…they were old, pre-Mandalorian Excision but it looked well maintained, Basilisks, M22-Krayt Gunships on an intercept course and R39 Starchasers.

Hmmm…the Karintha class Vessels were better…but not THAT much better…

56 minutes before the others arrived…well they knew she was here, she might as well try to tell them to just go away.
“Incoming transmission from the target, open channel…”

Tern nodded

“Vhe'viin keep on intercept, Shriek-Hawk calculate micro jump on retreat vectors, I don’t want this one running.  Patch me through…”

“Hello! Umm…I think you have attacked my Space station, that’s not very nice you know, even Outsiders think its mean to break other Outsiders things…though they still do it…but you’ve broken something belonging to People so you better leave now.”

Tern looked utterly bemused she sounded like a twelve year old girl whose doll house had been smashed.

“Decelerate immediately to 50KMPH on current vector and lower shields, you are surrounded and outgunned, let’s not make this any messier than it needs to be sweetheart,”

“Umm…I’m not doing that, you should leave before the others come, they won’t be happy you’re here…”

Holding his mute button Tern looked to Tactical officer

“She still on the same course?” – “Yes Sir, 1 minute to intercept, Meeda reports ready to board once Vhe’Viin disables,”

He flicked the comm back on

“Look princess let’s do this the easy way,”

“I’m not a princess…did you get our Station confused with one belonging to a Princess?” Outsiders weren’t very smart after all Adaea thought.

She was either completely naïve or fiendishly annoying, still keep ‘em talking - get in range - then start shooting.

“I’m not Fiendishly Annoying!” the woman on the other end of the comm protested

“What…”

“You better go away right now or you, Meeda, Strill and your M22’s, Basilisks and the R-39 Starchashers you have set to micro jump behind me are going to be in big trouble!”

“How the FRELL!”  Advanced scanners might pick up the ships, but how did she know Meeda’s name…this was sorcery…witchcraft…

“I’m not a Princess, Maros Tern of Clan Ordo,” his face fell as her voice shifted from a nervous girl to a domineering woman “I’m People, now leave if you shoot at me you’ll regret it”

Tactical gave the thumbs up, Vhe’Viin were in range, Tern flicked off the comm…he needed credits and it was only one witch in one ship…..

“Pump the witch full of hot Ion,”


The black cavity between the flight of four M22’s and the Chiss Freighter lit blue against the deep inter system void, from port the second flight unleased an Ion run to the starboard engines. 

The shields were sterner than they had expected, this wasn’t typical Republic tech - but the outcome was the same, fourteen shots crippled the ships systems, a further four to port offset the veer in its course the attack run from the port side had caused. 

First flight peeled off in a board patrol pattern while Second Flight settled into a loose escort waiting for the boarding transport Strill under Meeda to arrive.

“Gorog this is Mythosaur, Station is secure, re-enforcement ship is disabled and we’re prepping to take prisoner,” Tern transmitted to the Mysterious contact.

“Confirmed Mythosaur, en-route, 15 minutes,” Gorog replied.

While Tern was counting his Credits Meeda’s Breach Tube clamped on, hissing air to fill the umbilical with atmosphere.  The Freighters air lock offered minimal resistance to the slice, a swift volley of gas grenades from handheld launchers tinged the air yellow with sedatives as Meeda stepped through in full armour, Stun net and rifle at the ready.

Her team methodically checked every room - finding nothing she signaled for the advanced scanning equipment.



[00:00:49:48]
It was rather pointless Adaea thought, she wasn’t in the ship anymore, she was standing on top of it, boots of her Mark 1 Guardian Armour mag-locked to the hull.

Her brief conversation had given her more than enough information to build a psychological profile on the leader, combined with her analysis of the deployment pattern of their resources cross referenced against what she knew about typical Mandalorian space warfare she had a reasonable predictive model of their actions against over three dozen potential response paths of her own.

Between picking apart correlation and causation in their tense flight patterns she idly wondered why the Outsiders hated them so much…she’d warned them and they’d still fired…Kiraea thought they were just inscrutable maniacs, Lyaea thought they were jealous of them, Adaea hypothesized it was because they didn’t perform enough empathic tactile bonding behaviours – not hugging or holding hands enough sounded much nicer when explaining her ideas though – and they didn’t seem to find a role for everyone in their societies, resulting in angry poor people.

All People had special talents to contribute - Adaea was good at co-ordination – cognitive transference across her six levels of consciousness was 10.4% more efficient than Lyaea, 5.3% than Kiraea, she integrated and made connections between information from memory orbs faster than anyone except Valens, but she was better at innovating than he was - Adaea hypothesised it was because her family had been tailors and artists, she could sew seven dresses at once since she could hold a needle – one with their hands, six with the aether.

And so she was piloting the Gobril, Gormin and Gondur into position with three levels of thought, keeping tabs on the boarding party with one, the Commander Tern with another whilst her sixth level raised her bow with practised ease. 

Easing off control of the Happy Gobril as it slipped into position along Station 3 unseen and undetected, she drew the Doonium-nanite-cable bow string to the edge of her helmet, calculating the precise vector, accounting for her tendency to veer 0.3 degrees left, DC-MX5004’s gravitational pull…adding aetheric kinetic potential to that yielded by the micro-cams mechanical advantage, the upper limbs depressed with her draw. 

Smiling Gormin lined up on a vector to slip between the patrolling Basilisks…A few more hundred newtons to get through the M22 plating…

And Loose!!!
Vhe’Viin 1 had no sensors capable of detecting a 5KG, -15 degree Celsius arrow made of a mineral no Mandalorian had seen in 2000 years,

Nor did Vhe’Viin 2 have shields capable of deflecting a solid projectile moving at 254.3 metres per second. 

And the Pilot of Vhe’Viin 3, an archer herself, would never imagine an arrow could be used to bring down a fighter moving at patrol speed in deep space.
 
The sleek four bladed arrow heads sliced through the drive cores, bored the shield generator, then punctured the pilots chests before shattering the canopies double layer transparisteel inside out.  Only the gunner of Vhe’Viin 4 lived long enough to hear the vile screech as metal tore and air boomed from the breached bubbles of life in the abyssal sea before they added to the stars yellow glows with their own destructions luminescence. 

Lyaea was better at teleportation…but Adaea was still good….with a thought she used the Aetheric-kineto-thermal-re-energisation-teleportation-imprinting to summon the arrow back – well that was the technical term, Adaea thought Enchanted Arrow sounded much nicer!


“Vhe’Vin Flight 1 is down,”

“Check, no signs of fire,”

“Report!”

“Unknown origin of detonation, not alerts, could be drive malfunction,”

Malfunction…Tern knew those ships were better than new with his strict maintenance regime….frelling witchraft…

“Eyes open Shriek-Hawks….new patrol Z 22.3 and Z negative 45.8, wide arc full scan, Basilisk standby….Get a damn tug out there to find out what happened, all scanner set to full power, if one of Yon’s back hairs is out place I want to know!”


“Nothing Ma’am,” The tech reported to Meeda whose annoyance was shown in her wide stance and crossed arms on the deck of the strange freighter they had disabled.

“Could’ve been a relay transmission from another location through this ships comm, the console shows this ship was slaved to at least one other up till our ion cannons fried it,”

A curt nod was all she offered

“Someone’s playing with us, ships empty Tern we have at least one more bogey out there”

“Confirmed - suspect cloaked vessel, all fighters’ focus on thermal scans hopefully we can get an exhaust trail, gunners focus visual scan, anywhere the stars blot,”

“Wait…” the tech said slowly through his helm “There she is!”

“Frell you’re right! Hands up!” Yon screamed behind Meeda pointing his rifle at her

“What are you doing!”

“Hands Up!” this time it was Yri coming in from the cargo bay,

“Are yo….” Her sentence was finished by electric boom of stun blasts hitting her from all sides.


Adaea wasn’t that good with mind control on beings who were in a state of emotional arousal and high task focus…but suggest to three people the fourth was their target and it became self-re-enforcing….finally the R-39s were in range…

She drew back for her next shot.



“Captain we have her!” Yon called over the comm,

“Where’s Meeda?”

“Meeda? She’s….not sure…she was there a minute ago…talking to the tech…”

Yon felt slightly confused about the question as he dragged the red armoured form of their target into a force cage….strange looked just like Meeda’s armour…

“Yri had eyes on her too and fired…then Meeda…”

A soothing balm spread across his mind sweeping away all the little inconsistencies that were confusing him.

“Well get back here with the prisoner,” Tern replied before rounding on the Tactical officer.

“Anything?”

“Nothing…could be micro missiles…maybe mines…”

“Witchcraft more like…” he mumbled

“Vhe’Viin escort Strill back to the Station – I do NOT want that witch on the Mythosaur! Shriek Hawk scour the debris zone…as much as you can…”

“Sir another ship coming in…signal answering to Gorog…”

Terns fists clenched, bastard was early…

“Direct him to the Station, I don’t want him on the Mythosaur either!”


[00:00:42:13]
She hummed along as she watched the arrow fly, her arm a machine nocking, drawing and loosing on pre-calculated vectors that told her to twist her hips just so as she rode on the Boarding craft termed ‘Strill’ after a cute Mandalorian hunting animal.