Saber Forum

I wanted to give a great "Thank you" to everyone who supported my writing in "Tarnished Knight" but special note to Karmack, Lord_S_Gray, and Teagin Roan: thank you, one and all, for your great, introspective comments!

So, I figure that while in-between the larger, over-arching stories, I'd put up any vignettes, one-offs, and general interludes here in this thread.  I would also welcome any other submissions from my fellow writers; and if they are within the continuity of our little forum SW Universe, so much the better!  Just fair word of warning: if any writer wants to include proprietary information, please PM the original author and get permission (that is what Karm, TR, and I have done as both courtesy and to accommodate any legal ramifications  ;))!

And, finally, special thanks to UltraSabers for this forum and all of the members who make it possible  :)

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Interlude-
"Obstinance"

I somersaulted over the blade as it arced towards my waist.  Landing squarely, I brought my lightsaber around, intercepting my opponent’s.  Good, precise; but I was already in motion.  Going faster still, my blue blade whirled through the air, deflecting, searching, attacking.  My opponent’s defense was impenetrable.  Each time I thought I was close, my opponent switched to a new tactic.  Time to think outside the box.  Using the Force, I braced the muscles in my legs, core, and chest.  Drawing from the planet, the primordial forces…pulsed.  I could feel the pure, raw, potent POWER.  THIS was the Force.  Concentrating, I…amassed the energy that I’d drawn.  Simultaneously, I kept my blade in motion, a whirlwind of blue; but not to attack, to distract.  Feeling the accrual of power, I focused the energy, creating Force Kinetite.  A sudden booming in the air occurred as the Kinetite sped towards my opponent, producing a small void in front of me.  But with the loud report also came a turbulent wind; I’d forgotten D’Aylanna’s teachings: nature abhors a vacuum.  My body had been reinforced by the Force but I’d done nothing to keep my eyes clear.  Dust from the rushing wind threatened to blind me and I was forced to retreat.  And, without being able to see, the Kinetite dissipated uselessly after overshooting my target.

While I was momentarily blinded, my opponent seized and pressed advantage.  My lightsaber blocked my opponent’s blade time after time.  But even as I defended, I was losing ground.  Blocking high, I saw—too late—that I’d left an opening in my defenses for my opponent to exploit.  Sure enough, my opponent’s blade arced low, too low and too fast for my lightsaber to intercept.  Expecting the blow I knew to be coming, I tried a desperation attack.  Using the Force to speed my muscles, I quickly pivoted my body around.  I moved quicker than I’d ever had.  At the same time, I stabbed my lightsaber behind me, under my left arm hitting…nothing.  A split-second later, my opponent’s blade struck me…right at the base of my shoulders.  I fell to my knees.

“That was…unorthodox.”  The soft, lilting voice behind me sounded impressed, if incredulous.  Coming around into my line of vision, my opponent’s short, lithe frame briefly blocked the failing sunlight falling upon us.  “It was a good effort…right up to the point when you died.”  Closing down the practice saber, the small woman went to hand it to me.  “Loser recalibrates the crystal.”  The smile that crossed her dark blue lips lit up her olive complexion as her dark eyes looked upon me with equal measure of love and humor.

“Again.”  Ignoring the outstretched saber hilt, I got to my feet, somewhat awkwardly.  Even after a month, I wanted to use my dominant hand to help push off the ground.  Damn.  Before I could stop myself, I felt tears well up in my eyes.  Sensing my anguish, D’Aylanna stood in front and wrapped her arms around, gently comforting me.  Leaning her face upon my chest, my wife’s head barely came to my neck.  Yet, right now, it was her comforting presence that made me feel enclosed in safety.

“Shh, Dear One.  I know, I know. Shhh, my Shakal.” Her soothing voice helped to alleviate my grief, but did not dismiss it.  The pain of G’av’s death was still fresh in my mind.  It would not go away.  But…it would…change, and me with it.  D’Aylanna’s consoling tone was a balm, as were her words.  Huh; “Shakal.”  In Hapan, it meant “worthy” or “one whose worth has been proven.”  As I said, the Hapan language was…idiosyncratic.  And I felt anything but “worthy.”  Regardless, I loved her for it.

“Thank you.  I’m OK.  Thank you, Ereneda.” I told my wife.  Ereneda; it meant “she who has no equal,” although it was usually reserved solely for the Queen Mother.  But as far as I was concerned, D’Aylanna was absolutely without equal.  Smiling, I gently looked down at my wife, her dark eyes shining.  “Again.”

Her blue lips pursed.  “No.” She said gently, but firmly.  “No, Shakal.  You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.  You require more rest.  You will get more rest.  Now.”

I almost laughed, despite my mood.  D’Aylanna was determined but not imperious.  And I knew that she was right.  But I wanted—no, NEEDED—to improve; my defeat at Gaetana’s hands had proven that.  Closing my eyes, I thought that if I’d have been better, I could have saved G’av.  And it had proven something else: I was afraid.  And not just about Gaetana, although that was in my mind.  I was afraid about losing D’Aylanna.  And, deep down, I was afraid of what else Gaetana had told me.  I had to be honest with myself…but even now I was afraid to utter the name that the High Inquisitor had said, told to me in a voice that had betrayed her own fear.

Darth Rowahn.

Calming breaths helped soothe as did my wife’s gentle rubbing along my back and arm.  She was mindful of my right arm where it ended in a stump.  Shaking he head, she spoke: “You should get the cybernetic attached already.” Always the same sentence; always the same intonation of concern and admonition.  By the Maker, I loved her.

“No Ereneda, not yet.  I’ve more training to do.” I told her softly.

Silently, she nodded.  Then, looking at the lone person whom we had as an audience, D’Aylanna said, “Teidowan, that is how one defends against an opponent using Juyo.  Except that last part; that was just…a Gungan’s attempt at a joke-attack.  I think.”

Light laughter filled the air.  Jumping up off her knees, Jorya joined the two of us as we walked.  “Yes, Maenowan D’Aylanna.”  She looked at me.  “Master that was…instructional.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Jedi do that.  Where did you learn it?”  Even without looking at her, I knew that Jorya was still grinning.  It was infectious.

Chuckling, I shook my head good-naturedly.  “That, my apprentice, was the refuge of a desperate man.”  I became momentarily serious.  “Although, occasionally it can work, even on a superior opponent.”  But then I smiled again.  “Just don’t expect it to.”

And as we walked from the Training Ground, we continued talking, laughing, and—when needed—consoling.  But two thoughts continued to dominate my thoughts despite my efforts: I had to get better.  My body continued to heal, thanks to the bacta treatments and the GraySingers.  My skills continued to improve, if slowly.

But it still wasn’t enough, not fast enough.  And that had to do with the second thought going through my head.

Darth Rowahn.

Something in Gaetana’s tone, something that she’d inferred…but nothing to elicit anything exact.  Even in the midst of my Force Meditations, I couldn’t glean any elucidation.  The most disconcerting element came to me in a muddled plethora of images that I could not even call a “vision:” a tall, slender, foreboding figure in black, face covered in a black mask.  He spoke but I did not hear the words.  He motioned but I could not make out the intent.  Then he ignited his lightsaber, the red blade casting a blood-red glow over everything.  Again, he spoke, but I could hear nothing.

I had told D’Aylanna about it; she was a master of Force Precognition.  But even she could not cast any illumination over it.  But, she never once stopped trying.

And so: neither would I.  Not until I was better.  Not until I knew that I could protect those that I loved.  I would not let what happened to G’av happen to D’Aylanna.

We went to sleep early that night and awoke early the following morning.  And would continue to do so.  I would make myself “worthy;” in deed as well as thought.

For my “Ereneda” I would be “shakal.”

Thanks for making this thread. It is a great idea, and I may contribute sometime. Right now I have nothing to contribute, but maybe someday I will.

Also loved that interlude. Wonderfully written, and like I said before, training scenes are some of my favorite because of the character growth they provide. And then there was that little Easter egg. ::)

Oh, Interludes!  I like it!  :-)

Nice beginning.  Gives us a sense of where Teagan is and where he's going.  I like it.  It feels like...

...like a Marvel end-credits scene.  ;-)

Thank you my friends!  Like you TR, I enjoy the training scenes myself...and seeing as to how you and Karm had already done an excellent example (each), I had to catch up!

And, admittedly, my thought with Interludes was to have an easter egg per entry (at least for me  ;)).  You guys have written such vibrant characters that it is almost a shame to NOT include them!  Well, as long as it's organic to the narrative  :D.

Yes, Karm, excellent analog: it is like the stinger in the credits  :)

And don't worry if you guys are too busy with your main storylines; I'm eager to read those even more so  ;)

I will probably have one when I finish my story, but it is not yet time for me to write. It would give far too much away if I did it now.

Interludes are a lot of fun, gives you a chance to expand on something that you like about you're story, but doesn't quite fit in the main narrative. This is almost like a bridging arc between a Tarnished Night and the Sequel I hope is coming!  Thanks for this, given me a few ideas for some chapters to 'bridge a gap'.

Perfect buddy! Like I said: at your leisure  :D

My thoughts exactly LSG!  And I would be honored to see your "bridging stories" here  :D

Interlude-
A Call From An Old Friend

“I, Kage Oyuna Chan’dn, confer upon you the title and station of Gray Knight.  Rise, Knight Jorya Fah.  Arbiter, please inscribe into the Book of Balance Knight Fah’s advancement.”

The assembled Gray Jedi let out a collective cheer, even if it was contrary to protocol.  But we had a very good reason to celebrate, and not just because of Jorya’s promotion to Knighthood.

The Rebel Alliance had been successful in destroying the second Death Star.  If that were not enough, I’d also heard rumors that both Vader AND Palpatine had perished along with the battlestation.  I’d not had this good of news in years.

A sharp elbow dug into my right side, interrupting my ruminations.  Looking down, I saw my wife’s dark eyes staring at me, a look of chagrin on her face.  Blinking, I focused on the here and now.  Stepping forward, I walked over to where Jorya knelt.  Smiling down at her, I removed the ceremonial Gray Robes and in turn draped them over her shoulders.  Despite the solemnity, some soft laughter sounded in the dome.  My Gray Robes had been tailored to fit me.  Unfortunately, Jorya was several centimeters shorter; moreover, I outweighed her by almost 80 kilograms.  As such, she was practically swimming in the garment.  

A smile still on my face, I stood behind her.  “Arbiter.  Council members.  My fellow Gray Jedi.  I am honored to report that Jorya Fah has successfully completed the Trial of the Dragon Cave.  Now let her assume the mantle of Gray Jedi Knight of the Vhal’Dan Order.  I, Maenowan Zearic Vih-Torr, stand as custodian.”

As one, the assemblage recited the Gray Jedi Code:
“Flowing through all, there is balance
There is no peace without passion to create
There is no passion without peace to guide
Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act
Power blinds without the serenity to see
There is freedom in life
There is purpose in death
The Force is all things and I am the Force”

Jorya stood, face full of pride.  And, again against decorum, she threw her arms up around my neck, embracing me.  Reciprocating, I hugged her tightly, enveloping her slender frame.  Once more cheering sounded in the Dome.

As the ceremony ended, the Kage left hurriedly while the assemblage began to disperse.  Eyeing D’Aylanna, I made my way through the gathered Gray Jedi, leaving Jorya as she thanked the line of people forming to congratulate her.

Even before I reached her, I could tell that D’Aylanna was preoccupied.  “Something wrong, Ereneda?”  Before she could answer, I pulled her tightly to me, my arms completely encircling her.  Trying to add levity, I added, “I know, I know.  It’s not every day that our daughter passes her Gray Trials.”  Looking down, I saw D’Aylanna’s grin.

“True, husband mine.  But I’m needed in the Kage’s Chambers.  Please give Jorya my love as well, Shakal.  Her blue lips briefly touched my cheek and she went about her errand.

Sighing, I turned my head back towards Jorya.  Just watching her work the crowd, she commanded the room.  Smiling fondly, I thought back to the first time I’d seen her in the Hall of Balance.  Young but full of vitality, despite her ordeals.   She’d matured into a strong, beautiful young woman.  And an incredible Gray Jedi; certainly much better than I was at her age, when I’d been so obstinate and overconfident.  My smile faltered some.  G’av.  It was because of him that I was here now.  Without him, I would never have had…THIS.  Becoming bittersweet, my smile returned as I continued to think of my friend.

“Master?” Jorya’s tentative voice came from behind me.  “Are you OK?”

Turning, I looked down into her blue eyes.  “Yes, Dear One.  Just thinking of how your Uncle G’av would have been so proud of you at this moment.  The Maker knows that I am.”  Taking the Togruta’s hands in both of mine, I laughed.  “Did I ever tell you about the time that G’av mistook an Amorphiian delegate for a janitor…?”

               <<<< >>>>

As Oyuna Chan’dn slid into the seat, the holographic comm unit was pinging, indicative of an awaiting communiqué in progress.  Keying in her IdentCode, she then turned towards the disembodied head that projected into view.  It belonged to that of an elderly man who, despite his seeming frailty, had an astute countenance and gleam in his clear eyes.

“Hello, lass.” His gravelly, deep voice was genial, familiar…and with an undercurrent of urgency.

               <<<< >>>>

By the time that we headed to our quarters, Jorya and I'd had much to drink.  Too much, truth be told.  But Jorya’s knighting, coupled with the news of the Empire’s defeat at Endor, called for something more than temperance.  

And throughout the night, we had expected for D’Aylanna to join us.  But, hour after hour passed without my wife in attendance.  So it was that, entering our home, we were both surprised to see D’Aylanna already there.  Sensing her mood, we both sobered quickly.

“What is it, Ereneda?”  D’Aylanna was sitting down, looking pensive.  Jorya sat beside my wife, also anxious.

“Shakal.  Jorya.  I’ve been with the Kage.  She was contacted by…an old friend.  But I must needs tell you en route.”  Even before the last sentence was from her lips, she moved into our private rooms, in order to pack, if I had to guess.  Glancing at Jorya, I saw that she’d fallen asleep on the couch.  I let her rest; she deserved it.

Moving to our rooms, I saw D’Aylanna busying herself.  “Ereneda?  What’s going on?”

Without looking at me, D’Aylanna still sounded distracted, “As I said: I’ll tell you en route.”

I started helping her.  “OK, can you at least tell me where we’re headed?”

This time, she stopped; her dark eyes stared directly into my hazel ones and spoke a single word.  I felt a sense of disquiet.  But I wondered if it was from my anticipation or from my trepidation.  I knew that I had to wake Jorya immediately.

Approaching the couch, I began to gently shake the young Togruta.  “Jorya, Dear One.  You need to prepare.  We’re heading off-world.”

Still groggy from sleep, she rubbed at her eyes.  “Wha…Master?  Oh…OK.  Whe…where?”

“M’Tzigon.”

Like Karmack noted above, this acts like a post credits scene in Marvel, in a main narrative this kind of chapter would be a little lost as its just set up basically, Jorya has become a knight and a certain other Gray Jedi has put in a call for assistance to the other order...necessary for a story, but not the main event (I know I do plenty of sections like this, they're not that exciting but have to be done).  BUT detached from a broader narrative it is far more impactful as its leaving open story lines that aren't going to be dealt with soon building expectation, again like a post credits scene.

M'Tzigon?  Hey!  I know those guys!  ;-)

Nicely done, Dutchman.  :-)

In case anyone hasn't guessed, Dutchman and I have been ... talking.  Should be interesting.

I have one coming, soon.  Promise!  A little peak into Karmack's frame of mind post-Coruscant.

**  Overwhelmed  **

I stood, totally neutral, blade in middle guard, as the opponents circled.  There were three of them: young, aggressive, eager for the kill.  One in particular caught my attention.  I could almost hear his battle song...

Movement came suddenly.  The attack was coordinated - three strikes, aimed at different places.  Swift, deadly, and nearly impossible to parry.

Nearly.

Almost of its own will my own blade flashed even as my body moved.  My middle guard flashed high, attacking and defeating the high cut from one opponent as I spun away from the second slash and hopped over the low cut of the third.  A hand-spin normally reserved for showy flourishes neatly intersected the low hilt, disabling it and a solid force push finished the opening in the deadly circle.  I tucked and rolled through the opening and away from the pair that were now behind me before they could recover enough to cut at my back.  I barely made it, actually feeling the cut of the humming blade behind me.

The singer.  Fast.  Very fast...

I came up on my feet and augmented my strides, lifting myself in the force, following the flow of my own battle song.  Two fast steps, two steps up the wall, and a hard push off...  Another tuck as I sailed back through the air, arcing overhead ...  There!  NOW!  I reached out, slowing my somersault slightly to slash downward and my blade cut across the cranium of a second opponent.  I twisted and hit the ground harder than I had intended and somewhat under-rotated, balance off, and had to throw myself into a forward roll to catch my momentum and regain my feet.  Undeterred by my acrobatics, my third assailant, the singer, was hot on my heels.  My blade flashed through the Soresu orbit, blocking his attack even as I turned to face him one-on-one.

This one is very good...  I was pressed back by the aggressive and powerful attacks, but I could hear his song now.  He was singing ... and the song was familiar.  I'd seen this pattern of attack before. Time to change the tune...

I sensed the lunge and force attack coming, and instead of resisting it I rode it, using his push to propel myself up and away from him, opening some space.  Instead of being hammered by the energy or sprawling across the floor I landed lightly and without looking called the saber of the second fallen opponent to my left hand.  I ignited it in a reverse "assassin" grip and met the charge of my young opponent head-on, employing the Djem-So form I had spent months practicing with Arnor and Kage Silman.

It worked.  My opponent, committed to the attack, charged into the fray before his song could adjust to the new parameters of combat.  I caught his attack on the back-hand blade while bringing my own primary blade up in a sweeping cut that intersected his wrist.  His saber deactivated and dropped from his lifeless hand as pain flooded his face.  "Ow!"

I held my stance for a moment, then stepped backed, flourished through a salute, and deactivated both blades.  A grin split my face as the battle song ended.  "Ow?  That's all you have to say to your old man after all this?"

Kenneniah worked his still numb and tingling right hand, but he was also grinning now.  "Ow...Dad."

"Hey, at least he didn't kill you!" groaned Olan from the floor.  "Those practice sabers give nasty headaches you know!"

"Oh stop complaining Olan.  You just got hit in the head.  Master Karmack threw me clear across the room!" chimed in Djaris from his resting point.  "You KNOW that's going to leave a mark!"

There were general chuckles around the room of students.  The gallery held the rest ot Kenneniah's class of padawans, a gaggle of students between 14 and 15 in their final months of study before entering the formal roll of Teidowan to a Knight or Master.  Most of them already had close relationships with one or two Knights, many of whom began mentoring a Padawan as early as six or seven years old.  I touselled my son's hair before turning to address the class.  "So, as you can see, its never a good idea to rush into any encounter.  Granted, I have a little more experience than my three opponents..." more chuckles "...but all the same any three-on-one encounter should favor the attackers.  So why did they lose?"

"Lack of coordination!" called one of the students.  "Overconfidence!" called another.

I nodded, then let my voice go flat.  Time to be serious: "I will say this: They attacked aggressively but I did not sense overconfidence, only determination.  When you engage in battle you must be fully committed to it.  Never engage half-heartedly.  Do all you can to avoid the fight, but if a fight is unavoidable do not hold back.  Holding back will only get you or your allies killed."  I leveled my gaze and swept it around the room, driving the point home with each student.  Then I grinned again, letting the mood lighten back up.  "As for a lack of coordination, maybe a bit."  I looked at my three students/opponents, who had come and sat down in front of me.  "Your timing was good on your initial attack, but your strike placements allowed me to counter one while avoiding the others."

Djaris laughed.  "Yes Master.  I certainly did not anticipate being thrown clear across the room!"

I let my face go serious again.  "Why not?"

There was suddenly a profound silence in the room.  Color drained from Djaris' face.  "Um..  Well...  Honestly, Master Karmack, we simply didn't think anyone could survive a planned attack from three opponents.  Not even you, sir."

I sighed and looked at each of them, then around the room.  "You must remember, there are ALWAYS possibilities.  You hear the song.  You sing it in your minds and hearts.  You feel the force, use it as an ally.  The song allows you to anticipate, to see possibilities and openings where others see none.  But always, ALWAYS remember that those possibilities exist!  Don't limit yourself to what you see.  What you can touch."  I held up my saber.  "This weapon is valuable and can save your life, but it is NOT everything.  Even disarmed you can prevail."

I saw the flicker of disbelief in Kenneniah's eyes and felt it shudder through the class like a wave.  "But sir, how?  You defeated us with your blade!"

I sighed.  "Just my blade?"  I tossed my saber across the room, to one of the other padawans.  "Very well.  Again."

"Sir?"  I sensed confusion now.  I waved the trio to their feet.

"Again.  Surely you're not afraid of an unarmed man?"  My voice was light, but my eyes were serious.  This was important.  They need to understand...

Kenneniah, Olan and Djaris rose and spread out.   Olan reset his hilt's power supply and the three boys made eye contact as they circled, communicating.  Following Ken's lead again...  Good...

I returned to my neutral position, standing still, arms at my side.  I listened, and heard Ken's battle song beginning.  And ... now.

As the three boys activated their sabers, I reached out through the force and ... attenuated the power.  All three boys let out a yelp as their sabers suddenly released a powerful static charge into their hands as the blades formed.  Those yelps became cries of surprise as a powerful energy pulse in the force knocked them all off their feet and sent them skidding across the room in three different directions - only to find their own sabers hovering in the air above them, the points nearly in contact with their own throats.

In the center of the room, I remained immobile.  I held the sabers for a moment, then deactivated them and let the hilts drop onto each boy's chest.  I looked around the room.

"Remember: There are ALWAYS possibilities."

*******************

Kage Silman turned away from the observation window and toward his companion.  "So, Doni, do you think he is ready to go out again?"

Doni Chillum, Song Master and Gray Master of the Mak'Tor Order, sighed.  "Yes, he's ready.  I almost wish he weren't." He looked at the Kage.  The eyes were kind, in stark contrast to the evil appearance of his face, with its black and red markings and horns.  He can't help his biology, and Maker knows his heart and mind are both in the right place...  "Do you have to send him out again?"

"You know I do.  You can hear the song better than I can.  For that matter, so can he.  Karmack's been chaffing at his inaction, but deep down I think he also new that without this time of rest and healing any actions he took would lead only to disaster.  But now the songs are converging again, and the time has come.  We must free them ... or die."

Chillum nodded and bowed his head.  "I know.  I know."  He looked back at his protege and the students he loved to train.  "Its just that last part ... worries me."  He sighed again and looked back at his Kage.  "Ok, its time.   But we'll need help.  I ... need to make a call.  With your permission?"

Kage Silman nodded. 

OUT-

-STANDING!

I really enjoy the training scenarios, but THIS one was made that MUCH better by the inclusion of Karm's son along with his padawan class.  The action is kinetic; I can feel the power emanating from Karm and the purpose of conviction radiating from him.  Excellent object lesson: learn to think OUTSIDE the box  ;)

I really like getting to know more about Master Chillum and Kage Silman.  I believe that it was TR who said that Master Chillum was like the tough grandfather who had a sweet streak on the right day  :)  Kage Silman's character is an excellent example of dichotomy of nature vs. nurture.  Not to mention that there is something that I find incredibly satisfying about a devilish-looking character (Zabrach) with the soul of a saint  :D

Excellent interlude Karm!  Plus, with the non-linear nature of these Interludes, it really makes things exciting spying the easter eggs  ;D

Am I sensing a Zearic/Karmack adventure? :o :o

I certainly hope so.


As to the post itself, it was awesome. I love how Karmack is completely calm, and is in control of the situation the whole entire time. Never doubting his skill, but also not trusting in the opponents obvious lack thereof. I'm really loving Chillum and Silman, and really want to learn a bit more about them. I don't feel like I need to repeat my normal "I love training scenes because of character growth" thing, because TD already said it. Not to mention that you all know it already. Great job.

Interlude-
Dark Pheonix

The small man’s lightsaber hammered against the orange blade time and time again, each time pushing her defenses.  Admittedly, he was quite good.  But she knew that his Ataru was not infallible.  And she was patient.  After all, she’d been a Gray pretender for years. Ah, there, she thought.  Her feints had finally produced the desired result: an opening.  Without hesitation, she scythed her blade upwards, cutting the small man down.  He had been a worthy opponent, certainly more than…her former choice as candidate.

In her mind, the image shifted, blurring before regaining crystal clarity…

“Open your arms wide, Zearic.” Her certainty of his demise was all but a foregone conclusion.  She didn’t even try anything fancy, just an executioner’s swing.  And as he raised his hand, she thought, Even at the end, the man is a fool.  How could I have thought he would be an asset?  But then, astonishment: as soon as her orange blade came into contact with the man’s hand, it deactivated…  Off balance and shocked she fell into his waiting arms.  Crushing her to himself in a lethal parody of a lover’s embrace, she heard him whisper, “Open your arms wide.” She heard the screeching clamor of metal against metal.  With only a second, she reacted: a Force Shield behind her.  But she wasn’t quick enough: pain, excruciating pain, agony that she never even KNEW existed; it was her entire existence.  She only knew she must…escape, move, LIVE.

Again, the image shifted, refocusing slowly, inexorably…

She’d dragged herself to the med-pod, knowing that its beacon would summon…someone.  Her legs…wouldn’t work; her left arm bent the wrong way.  She must use the Force.  Up.  More pain.  Darkness, not unlike the Emperor’s wrath, a stomach-cringing fear that threatened to swallow her whole.  But it also acted as an impetus to continue…to LIVE.  But then, the fear was…not replaced, but PUSHED back by…an anger, no RAGE, FURY, WRATH.  HE did this to me.  Again, darkness.  Preferable; with awareness came pain, excruciating pain, agony that she never even KNEW exis—

Her eyes opened.  As soon as she did, a wave of vertigo hit her as substantial as a physical blow.  Something was wrong with her eyes.  Cautious, she slowly opened first her right eye and then her left.  Her right eye was fine, if watery.  Her left…!  She saw that her environment was…digitized.

By the Emperor, what has happened to me?!

She slowly turned her head.  Her arms were held wide, attached to sinuous cables that fed into her wrists like a biomechanical umbilical cord.  Trying to get a better vantage, she used her legs to stretch up.  Or rather, she tried.  When she did not move, she slowly looked down at her legs.  As her eyes scanned below her hips she saw…nothing.  More tubes that fed into where her femoral arteries would have been.  But her legs were gone.

She heard a scream, an automated, alien noise that sounded almost mechanical.  Shocked, she wondered who or what had made that noise, only to realize—to her growing horror—it had come from her.

“So.  You’ve finally woken.  Good.”  A baritone voice boomed behind her.  Slowly turning her head, she saw it was her Master.  Walking around her, his cloak an ebony shadow draped upon his broad shoulders, Darth Vader loomed above her head.

“L…lord Vader?  Wh..what has h…happened t..to me?” Again, the mechanized nature of her voice appalled her.  She’d always been fiercely vain about her melodious voice.  Tears began to flow from her right eye; her left dry as it no longer had any tear ducts.

“You failed, Gaetana.”  Pitiless in his pronouncement, the Dark Lord of the Sith stood motionless.  “The Inquisitorious is diminished as a result of your machinations.  Be grateful that I am of a forgiving mood.  You will survive.  It is by my volition that you do so.”  Lord Vader’s hand raised for dramatic effect as he pressed a lever with the Force.  Machinery given life moved, presenting a caricature of birth as limbs were surgically attached to Gaetana’s body.  She learned that there were limits to anesthesia.

But with the pain came clarity.  She WOULD survive.  And Zearic.  She would see him pay.  But not before he learned of suffering; before he KNEW what true suffering was.  By the Emperor he would…

As Darth Vader strode away, Gaetana lost consciousness again.  Had he cared to look back, he would have witnessed the small smile that played upon her face as she did so…

Two solid chapters.  Karmack taught them a very valuable lesson there - no one is going to play fair or by any rules you expect in a fight to the death, better they learn from him than from an enemy.

And Dark phoenix....it was really interesting to hear basically a flashback of the fight with Zearic from Gaetana's view point, and the revival reminds me of what happened with Lumiya in the old Marvel comics and EU ,so definitely something I can see Vader doing. 

One thing I noted was you both went with a third person perspective for characters others than your protagonist where you use first person, good to see a bit of a flip, might try first person myself to mix it up.  Having said that I think Gaetana would be a fascinating first person view point.   

LOL  LSG, that's a good point!  I honestly didn't even notice that flip.  Most of my past writing has been 3rd Person, I started writing We Are Gray 1st person as more of an experiment and I've stuck with it for that character.  But you're right I slip back into 3rd for other characters.  Even within the narrative.  Interesting... 

As for Dark Phoenix - Nice!  I agree wtih LSG, that was an interesting perspective and I see an echo of Vader's own "resurrection" in there.  Might even be the same facility, eh?  And the Dark Lord is there, taking some perverse pleasure in putting another through his own brand of hell...

Now ... I wonder where we might see Gaetana again....  ;-)

Good catch LSG.  Originally, I'd intended to just keep Zearic as my only first-person perspective...but now I think that I'll change that  ;)  Once again, I really appreciate the feedback from you guys  :)

Yeah I was hoping for that kind of comparison (although I never thought about Lumiya, LSG; I need to read up on her!). 

Oh yes, we'll see Gaetana again... ::)

Actually, I was thinking that Gaetana reminded me of Nebula from Guardians of the Galaxy...  :-)  Right down to the cybernetics being added to compensate for her failures.  LOL

LOL that's what I was imagining when I ended up rereading it  ;D  Completely unintentional, I assure you  ;)

I haven't commented yet because I just didn't know what to say. Dark Phoenix was awesome, and it was dark. Evil, damaged, creepy, it was good. I really like getting the perspective from Gaetana, that is definitely something I'd like to see more of.

Does anyone else read the Darth Vader scenes in his voice? ;D

LOL I do, I DO  ;D

It's got to be they way they are written. He is concise and to the point in what he says, yet he uses big words to reinforce the meaning. And you just have to read it like that. ;D Things like "Be careful not to choke on your aspirations director" or "The Inquisitorious is diminished as a result of your machinations" So great. ;D

LOL *bow*  :D

Totally agree.  I read them in the "Vader" voice as well.  And the phrases were spot-on!  :-)

Kennaniah

I knelt, meditating. We were due to lift off in three hours and I couldn't shake this feeling...  It was not something I was used to, and hadn't had to deal with it on this ... visceral ... level for a very long time. 

Fear

I sang, but the songs of comfort and strength rang hollow.  The pathways, the melodies and harmonies normally so full of delight and beauty remained distant and remote. 
And always, in the pit of my stomach, fear.

Fear - loss - anger - pain - suffering - fear...

It was a spiralling drumbeat in my head.  Singing was not helping.

And then, another voice.  Calm.  Soothing.  Quiet.  Trust the Singer, Karm.  The song, like everything else in Creation, can and is corrupted.  Only the Maker is truly Good.  Trust Him...

I felt the tears in my eyes then.  Shame welled up with fear.  Maker!  How can I forget so soon?!?  The image came unbidden to my mind: Kenneniah as an infant, lying on the alter, dedicated to the Maker on his 8th day.  The first-born of the Clan, returned to the Maker, as tradition required.

Maker, he belongs to You, not to me.  Forgive my arrogance.  Strengthen Your song in my heart!  Make my way straight!  Protect us as You will, but Your will be done!

I felt the cold stone on my forehead, wetted by my tears, and suddenly the song burst back into my consciousness.  The thread was alive, strong, vibrant ... victorious! 

Three strands, now.  Three, woven together ... for a time.

Trust the Maker, not the song...

Karm, that is just...beautiful.

I should have guessed that you have a poet's spirit; certainly you have the prose down  :)

Again: beautiful.

There is an echo of real life here.  My oldest, 3-4 years ago, decided she wanted to spend a summer in Israel working with Friends of Nazareth.  So she packs up and goes to Israel for 10 weeks.
That was hard, sending my 19-year-old daughter to a very dangerous place.  Alone.  I had that sleepless night of fear, ending with me remembering her dedication, and the reminder that she belongs to God and not me.

So there it is.  :-)  But thank you.  I don't believe I deserve the praise, but ... thank you.

Yes.  Yes you do my friend  :)

Annddd while I cannot QUITE relate, I can somewhat empathize: when my wife and I were first married, she went to Mexico and South America for an Anthropology Internship for 2 months.  As you say: sleepless nights and having to remind myself of the same  :)

Short but effective little interlude...reminds me of a line from Paradise Lost - 'Happy, but for so happy, ill secured".  Nothing lasts, things fall apart...but knowing this what do you do, do you try and force things to stay as they are, do you accept the inevitable change?  It seems to me here Karmack is stuck between the two, he doesn't want to let go but knows he has not choice, he can't fully accept either extreme (fighting against it or completely accepting it) the result is fear ending in a hope that his deity is in control and will turn things to the good.

That and the prayer aspect is an interesting contrast to one of my own characters who will go to extreme lengths to undo the destiny that has been dealt him and trusts in no one but himself and no matter what, would never even consider asking for forgiveness or subsume to another's will.

Anyway gives me an idea for a future chapter to play on this contrast....

The Ancient One

I walked into my dad's study and sighed.  The music...  It swirled around me and I closed my eyes, listening.  I had never been invited into his study before.  Master Chillum and my Father had spent hours the night before, discussing something ... intense.  Mom had done her best to distract Amanda and I from it, but the tension had been palpable. 

When Master Chillum had left, Father had called me in.  This room, this mystery, had always left me in awe.  The power of the force and the chorus of the Song rang through it like a catherdal.  The room just echoed and rang with the music of the force.  I had spent hours sitting outside his door, just listening to the reverberations and harmonies.  It was fascinating and beautiful and filled with power and sheer terror all at once.

And I absolutely loved it.

Father, I think, knew of my hours of meditation and while I wasn't allowed into the center of the room he seemed to take pride in my enjoyment of exploring what I could hear from outside.  But today I stood in the very heart of the music.  Despite the seriousness I sensed in my dad I couldn't help but spend a few seconds just ... absorbing it.

The moment ended.  "So, Karm, I understand you constructed your first light saber."

I nodded, hesitantly.  Usually only the older students were allowed into the saber shop, but the locks were literally child's play.  The saber body had been simple - we'd all bee shown the schematics and specs - and the crystal...

...it sang to me....

I had been drawn to the crystal.  A slightly irregular kyber crystal, it had taken some doing to nail down the exact alignment, but careful work and some precise tooling had made it work, with a 30% over-build on the shielding around the crystal just in case.  But nothing bad had happened, and when I'd pushed the activation button for the first time, the snap-shisss of the blade forming had been ... awesome.  The blade had formed, a bright slightly-golden yellow, and I could hear the crystal chiming in tune to the hum of the blade itself.

It had been most satisfying, even if I was three years to young for the build.

But now I had been caught, and I knew my first saber and it's marvelous crystal would be taken away.  As if in confirmation, my father reached out his hand.  I sighed and withdrew the hilt from the hiding place I'd made for it behind my right hip.  I let my fingertips caress it one last time, then laid it in my Father's hand.

Father took the hilt and turned it over, examining it in detail.  The hilt was nothing special, a carbon-fiber core and chassis with nickel-steel outer rings and sheath.  A quad of vents at the emitter allowed cooling air into the plasma stream and helped to stabilize the blade under heavy contact.  The blade itself - though of an unusual color, even among the Mak'Tor - was strong and steady.  Despite it's slight variances which had caused many others to pass it by, the crystal was pumping plasma and channeling energy perfectly, and it's echoes in the song gave me a connection to it I'd never experienced before.  Father's blue blade and Mom's pink blade didn't seem to sing to them, anyway, nor did any of the light training sabers I'd come into contact with up to now...

My dad finished his examination, checked the power levels (fully charged, of course!) and pressed the ignition button.  The blade sprang to life, and I felt a slight tug as the crystal came fully to life ... and called to me again.  I started to raise my hand, to call the hilt to myself, but I caught myself in time and pulled my hand - and the impulse - back.

My Father felt it anyway, of course.  I saw his eyebrow raise in silent evaluation.  He carefully checked the blade's integrity with a small instrument on his desk (where had that come from???) and nodded in satisfaction as it checked out.  A small smile appeared on his face as he deactivated the blade.  "Excellent construction, son.  Well done."  He extended the hilt to me, pommel first.

I stared at it.  He's giving it back?

He's GIVING IT BACK!

I caught my eagerness and throttled it, forcing control as I reached out and took the hilt.  I started to put it back in it's hiding place, but then I caught my Father's eye.  There was a look there...  I stopped and instead of tucking it away, I reached under my tunic and moved the clip to my right hip, hanging the hilt on my belt in it's proper place.  The place of a Knight.

Or a Taedowan...

My Father's grin widened.  "As you may have concluded, Master Chillum reviewed the security logs on the saber lab after the sensors reported after-hours activity.  He was ... very concerned with your choice of crystal."

"Sir?"  I blurted.  "Because it was out of the norm for size and shape?"

"No, son.  Because that crystal has been lying in the shop for literally centuries.  NO ONE has ever successfully incorporated it into a saber.  A few have tried, but they failed."  He leaned forward, his eyes now very serious and intent.  "Son, that crystal, the Ancient One, has chosen you as much as you have chosen it."

I blinked.  "Sir?  How ....  how is that possible?  I mean, I chose it, didn't I...?"

...it sang to me...

My father smiled as the realization dawned.  The crystal had drawn me to it!  As much as I had chosen it, built my hilt for it and done the work of creating the saber, the crystal had also chosen me, worked with me, and accepted the new home I had offered it.

I reached down and held the hilt in my hand, appreciating it anew.  We were a team...

"Karm, you're young.  To young for me to take you formally as my Taedowan.  But your mother and I have noticed your ... strong connection to the song.  This, as well as your demonstration of your skills, warrant special training.  Tomorrow, instead of reporting to your normal regime, you will report to Master Chillum.  He will begin teaching you the secrets of the song.  The music you hear?  It will soon come alive to you in ways even I can only imagine." 

I looked back at my Father, saw the pride shining in his eyes, as well as the echoes of regret and ... envy?  Yes, a slight shadow of envy was there.  The realization was a lot for me, as I suddenly realized that at ten years old I could sense something my Father, the strongest Knight I knew, could only wish to feel...

I clipped my saber to my belt and stood up straighter, looking my Father in the eye.  "I will not let you down, sir."

"I know."  He replied, then turned and opened his arms for a hug.

The room was alive with music, swirling and echoing in a glorious, beautiful crescendo...

This is fantastic!  I love learning more about Karm's past and while this provides some answers, it also raises questions!  Is this the same ancient crystal belonging to the Mak'Tor Kage?  Is the pedegree of the crystal able to intuit that only a Singer can fully appreciate (and utilize) it?  I really like the fact that what Karm has produced is--in effect--a legacy weapon  :). Admittedly, now I want to know more about Karm's parents!  And the cathedral...or is this the Mak'Tor Spire?!  Enquiring minds want to know  ;D

I am really enjoying these Interludes!  Great job Karm!

What a beautiful scene. Really shows how much Karm's father loved him, but also the concern that comes with that. Karm was fully expecting to have his saber taken away, yet it wasn't. The relief, and pride he felt there must have been incredible. Great entry.


Yes, exactly. Great choice on giving the mom a Pink saber. ;D

interesting the connection to his song at such a young age goes part of the way - I think - to explaining just why Karm is so abhorred by the concept of Dark Singer. Such a strong connection to his song is obviously a great strength of his, and based on the fact you note his parents blades don't sing in the same way a potentially unique advantage...but every strength can be turned to weakness and I suspect reflecting on Chapter 6 of wind chimes that is why the crystal beneath he floor had such a strong effect on him.

That's pretty much the way it plays in my mind, LSG.  The Mak'Tor "discovered" what amounts to an underlying carrier in the force, something that can be an amplifier or aid in prediction, but most only hear it peripherally.  Karmack is one of a few that can hear it clearly and even "sing" in a way that bends the force - actually "change" the song.  But he rarely does it.   In Karmack's world-view, the song is set into motion by the Singer, the Maker aka God.  He sees it in much the same way a Christian or Jew might see Divine Providence.  So changing that or corrupting it?  Yeah, bad deal.

And his connection did "hurt" him when the crystal was destroyed.  Deeply.  Very much like getting run over by a force-truck...

Interlude-
Curricula: School of Hard Knocks

“Jorya!  Come with us to the Apadana for sonic billiards!” one of the Twi’Lek teidowans, Tenten Keepsala yelled at me.  “Maenowan Bal We is among the finalists!”

I smiled but shook my head.  “Sorry Ten; Father pinged my comm.  He wants me to meet him at the Tactical Training Hall.  ‘Bye!”  Before Ten could get another word out, I darted away.  I knew she’d want ALL the gossip but I couldn’t keep Father waiting.

I was almost to the Hall when my comm chimed.  It was Father again.  That wasn’t like him.  Now I was a bit worried so I started running.  I almost ran into Master Tarash Noko but somersaulted just before I ran into him.  “Sorry Master Noko!”  The Chistori Gray Master said something in his reptilian language that it was probably better I didn’t know.  Oh well; Father had me practice Djem So but told me never to become overly reliant on it…so I doubt that Master Noko would ever be my saber instructor.

By the time I made it to the doors, my comm had pinged a third time.  Instead of answering it, I opened the doors to the main Hall in the Training wing.  “Father, I know that you’re not fast now that you’re old but even I need ti…”

I could tell immediately that something wasn’t normal.  Father was wearing his formal gray maenowan robes.  Across his barrel chest, his tabard marked in Aurabesh with his Water Warrior rank was stretched tight, his robes clean, and business-like.  His big arms were crossed in front of him.  Father had always been a large and intimidating man but he always had a smile for me.  Not now, his frown turned his beard downward.  The muscles in his jowls rippled across his smooth cheeks as he gritted his teeth.  Beside him, Mother was also dressed in her silver and burgundy robes.  Worse: Kage Chan’dn was here in her formal silver and gray mantle.  But…I was just dressed casual; not even in utilities.  What was going on?

Before any of them spoke, I remembered the forms.  “Kage Chan’dn.  Master D’Aylanna.  Maenowan Zearic.”  I bowed to each in turn and stood silent.  I wouldn’t let Father or Mother down.

“Teidowan Fah.  I’ve summoned you here for a Final Test.  This will determine if you are ready for the Trial of the Dragon Cave.”  Father’s deep voice was all business.  I knew that my Gray Trials were coming but…this?  I had no idea what was going on… “Are you prepared?”  Father’s booming voice startled me.  I could hear his voice in my head: Remember, the most potent weapon that you possess is your mind.  Always use it first and foremost.

“I am, maenowan.”  I knew that I sounded more confident than I felt, but I wanted my parents to be proud.  Still…I had NO idea what was coming.

Father’s face looked impassive.  “Very well.”  He began to remove his hooded dark gray surcoat and fold it up.  What the…?  Once he straightened—By the Maker he looked…BIG—he took his lightsaber off his belt.  “Ready yourself, teidowan.  Your Final Test begins.  NOW.”

As he spoke his last word, he ignited his lightsaber, the blue blade made his face look ominous as it cast a shadow across his cybernetic left eye.  But…wait…

“But Master…we’re using…real lightsabers?” I was afraid, as I was always shy when it came to questioning him.  It just didn’t seem…right.  After all, he’d saved my life all those years ago.  He’d trained me, he’d raised me, he’d made me his family, and he loved me.  It…it wasn’t…well, right.  But…still…?

“Are you questioning me, teidowan?  Or are you saying that you forfeit your Final Test?” Father’s voice was actually angry; no, not angry, cruel.  I’d never heard him speak like this.  What was going on?  But…still…I said nothing.

“No, maenowan.”  I grabbed the saber from my belt—the newest saber I’d just built all by myself—and ignited it.  The violet blade, in honor of Mother, sprung up with a snap-hiss.  I still wasn’t sure what was going on…maybe I had to beat Father one-on-one in saber combat?  But…I had never beaten him…

“Come at me, teidowan.  You must defeat me.”

I paused. Defeat…him?  Does…he…with live sabers?  But as I stood there, Father…attacked.  I barely had time to block with my blade.  I could feel the hit in my arms.  That…that was a full power strike!  I gritted my teeth, pushing away his blade.  I adopted Soresu to defend.  Besides, Father’s Water Warrior training allowed him to see exploits, or so he always said.  And I’d wasted enough time doubting.  I would be worthy.

Father’s blue blade came at me, again and again.  Each time I blocked, my arms quivered from the hits on my lightsaber.  But I was doing it: he couldn’t hit me.  I knew it was time to attack.  Changing to Ataru, I used my speed to power my offense.  Father had always told me that I was faster…yet, I could not seem to beat him.  Every time I saw an opening, I would strike…only to have Father block it.  He didn’t seem to move faster; he just always was able to block my blade.

And he wasn’t holding back, either.  I’d sparred with Father—and Mother—many times and I knew the difference from when we were in “practice” and…whatever this was.  No, not “whatever,” this WAS my Final Test.  My Ataru was doing good against Father…but he had yet to really engage in a more…aggressive form.  Like the Vaapad that he’d been practicing for a while now. Pay attention!  My purple blade barely blocked a particularly quick riposte.  I made myself focus totally on the Test at hand.

I knew that defense never won a battle so I switched to offense.  And several of my strikes were close.  But I knew the problem was that Father had specifically trained as a Water Warrior.  He would use a “formless form” (he called it) against an opponent.  And then, he would crash.

I could feel the saberwork in my arms.  Not necessarily from fatigue—well not ALL from me being tired—but each time my blade hit Father’s it…vibrated down both of my arms.  Yes he was much, much bigger than me…but also he made use of ALL of his strength.  I should know; he taught me as much.  I knew I needed to remember that and use it.  And, at first, I did.  I could tell that it made a difference…but not enough.

Suddenly, over two-dozen missiles—practice orbs that the younglings used—were thrown through the air at me.  I got distracted and, suddenly, found myself on my back.  Father had used a leg sweep while I'd been preoccupied.  And now: I stared straight at the tip of Father’s lightsaber blade.  

“Teidowan, you have failed the Final Test.”  Father’s voice boomed again, like he was pronouncing sentence on a criminal.

I got up unceremoniously.  “B…but…I…the test…it’s not—”

“Are you complaining, teidowan?” Father’s voice cut me off.  I had never been rude to him…but this test…it…it wasn’t…

“…No, maenowan.”  This wasn’t…right.  I wasn’t scared, well, per se.  I was more…mad.  But…surely Father MUST have a reason…

“Then leave.  Leave the Hall, teidowan.  You are censured.”  Father’s face was not just angry, he was furious.  And…disappointed.  “Censured?!”  But this isn’t…

I…didn’t know what to do.  Father was always fair.  ALWAYS.  But…this?  It’s just…

I saw that Father had turned his back to me and he was talking to Kage Chan’dn.  Mother…she was staring at me.  I’d always thought her dark eyes kind, if…intense.  Still, she was…STRONG.  And now, how she looked at me?  Was it…expectantly?  What did she want?

I turned to leave.  

Wait.  Mother reminded me…and something Father had told me a long time ago…

“No.”  The sound of my voice startled me.  It had echoed throughout the Hall.  And I found myself staring straight into three sets of eyes.  They were…penetrating.  And intimidating.  But… “No.  This is not a fair test.”  I held my head up even if my stomach felt like it was tied in knots.  

“What did you say, teidowan?”  Father’s voice was still hard.  The harsh tone was no longer there; but he WAS serious.  Well…I’d come this far…

“This is not a fair test.”  I kept my composure.  I remembered Mother telling me to stand up for myself against “tyranny” and “injustice” and Father showing me how to carry myself, my shoulders squared, head held high, and body straight.  I hope…  “And…it is against the rules to use telekinesis for projectiles.”

Father looked to Mother and then to Kage Chan’dn.  He walked over to me, slowly.  By the Maker his eyes are…hard.  I was proud of myself: I didn’t gulp but instead looked right into his strange hazel eyes.

And before I knew it, he was crushing me as he wrapped his arms around me in a hug.  “I TOLD you she was ready!”  Releasing me, his big hands grabbed my arms as he held me at arm’s length, his face full of pride and love.

“My Shakal is correct.”  Mother’s regal voice glided through the air.  “Jorya is prepared.  She is ready for the Trial of the Dragon Cave.”

Before I could think, I blurted out, “What?!”  Remembering who was in front of me, I almost stammered, “…That is, pardon Master D’Aylanna?”

But it was Kage Chan’dn who spoke, “Teidowan Fah.  You are deemed prepared for your Final Gray Trial.  Are you ready?”  Her orange eyes looked harder than even Fathers.

“I am, Kage.”  My voice was clear, self-assured. Like Mother’s. I noticed that I was standing straight like Father had taught me.

Kage Chan’dn gave a small, almost imperceptible smile.  And…did she nod?  “So be it.  Tomorrow, you undergo the Trial of the Dragon Cave, Teidowan Fah.  You have tonight.  May the Force be with you.”  And she left.

I turned to both Mother and Father.  “What…what was that about?”  I could hear the confusion—and anger—in my voice.  I knew I shouldn’t but…

“Jorya.  This is a graphic example of the wisdom inherent…” He stopped, grinned and when he spoke again, it was in the voice that I’d come to know and love for so long.  “Dear One, you’ve learned two very valuable lessons: to stand up for yourself when you know that you’re being treated unjustly.”

…Of course, how did I not see it?  Wait…  “Father, you said ‘two’…?”

He smiled wider.  “The second—and you must ALWAYS remember this—is that life is not ‘fair.’  Do not expect an opponent to be ‘fair.’  Do not expect that matters will go your way just because it is ‘fair.’  And do not ever, EVER think that others will treat you as you would treat them…because it would be ‘fair.’”  He put his hands on my shoulders and his smile turned bittersweet.  “But, Dear One, that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t at least ‘try.’”  Looking into Father’s eyes, I could see compassion.  And I understood.  

Feeling Mother behind me, she and Father hugged me between them.  Tomorrow was my Final Gray Trial.  And I would do them proud.

Dutchman, this is a great scene.  :-)  As a martial artist I have trained with and sparred with my own daughters many times.  This reminds me very much of a match I sparred with my elder daughter.  She is a 2nd degree, I am (still) a 1st degree but we've been training for the same length of time.   (I was injured during our 2nd degree test.  Its a long story.  LOL)

The point is, we were in a tournament and by the luck of the draw we were facing each other competitively.  She's very fast, but she's MUCH smaller than I am.  :-)   But for the first time we fought "for real".  It was still not really really real, but it was full speed, full power, no holding back.  What I remember most was when she came in with a very strong kick but came right into me - and I caught her kick and picked her up and physically threw her out of the ring.  Two points. 

She came back in and came after me with a fast round kick, which I blocked.  She had a bruise on her leg for two weeks.

I won the match easily.  It wasn't fair.  At all.  But it was a great match and we had a lot of fun.  But this scene really resonates with me because of that experience and the talk we had afterward about how even when everything is "fair", it really isn't.  :-)

Thanks for the peek into their past.  Now if only someone had documented what goes on in that Dragon Cave...    LOL

OK...first off: what an AWESOME story Karm!  I had NO idea!  And you've obviously got a great family my friend  :)

I have to admit that I wrote this as a window into Jorya's perspective.  I figured she would be a good counter-balance to Zearic in that regard  ;)

And you're right about the Trial of the Dragon Cave^^  But, for me, I'll keep it as the "UN-reveal"  ;D

Interesting how Jorya’s perspective has a different feel from when you write Zearic…she seems a little more focused on the people and emotions than concepts…but maybe it’s just the scene.  Always solid combat as always, as good lesson too, no test is ever fair, though perhaps she should’ve been more prepared to fight at any moment by that stage in her training?   Kryat Dragon Cave maybe...sounds interesting!

I have never done any form of martial arts, but I have often thought about how it would be if I were to have to fight someone bigger, stronger, and more skilled than myself. More than likely I'd lose, but there is a chance that because I was not taught the "forms", or the correct way to fight, I might have a chance because of my spontaneity. Once again, you have done wonders in your training scenes. Once more giving us a look into the characters and their lives, but also through a different view. I agree with LSG that this one has a completely different feel then those from Zearic's POV. You did really well at capturing the difference between the two of them, as well as the similarities. Very well done, and I can't wait to figure out what happens in the Dragon Cave. I get the feeling that this will have some major importance in the coming Shadow Etude entries.

THANK YOU both!  I was REALLY hoping to get a different "voice" in writing Jorya vs. Zearic; thanks to your feedback, I feel like I succeeded!  I think a few more installments with Jorya are coming up; really don't want to say TOO much and ruin anything  ;)

And the Dragon Cave...I might have to get together with Karm and come up with something; there's actually nothing written about it other than the "Trial of the Dragon Cave"  And that's it!  ;D.  Just a thought  :)

LOL.  Those of us who are black belts and instructors at my school talk about the new students at times, and the challenges of testing days.  We all agree: the new students sparring for the first time are the most dangerous (in the sense of someone getting legitimately hurt) because they don't know the forms and techniques very well.  So they're utterly unpredictable.  When the black belts spar, we can hurt each other sometimes but it almost always comes from someone jinking when they should have jagged.  And NEVER walk into a spin-back-fist!  *shudder*

As for fighting someone bigger....  My advice - kick them in the knee-cap HARD, then in the gonads HARD, then RUN AWAY!  ;-)

Luckily I've never had to fight someone, but that is the same type of advice I have been getting all my life, and I intend to follow it. :D

As promised in my Teaser, mid November is today!!! 

Interludes 1 and 2 are set Before the "Collapse" mentioned in Children of the Aether.  Trying some different things with my writing but should still feel familiar, as always love to hear any feedback.

Basically none have a 'name', trying to be more anonymous and focus on events and concepts.

However interludes 3-8 (coming over the next couple of weeks, have the plan just have to write them...) will be characters from CotA point of view, points if you can guess who they each are!


[/b][/size]

[/i]

Helixes twirled in the monitor, the two strands combining to form a full sequence…it was proceeding perfectly, each matching pair lighting up blue…but then…red…an error…damn…

Even the Prime Director of Genetic Sciences could make an error…it was to be expected…redesigning Aethan genomes was a long term task.  They were ahead of schedule anyway…first trials of 13th generation adjustments were underway.  Once confirmed and approved by the Technocracy every couple would submit their genetic material for editing, then at the next appropriate time in her fertility cycle they would implant the 13th generation embryos into the mother…in this way over the course of 3-4 years every fertile couple would have a 13th generation child…free of dozens more genetic errors…and most importantly adding biological efficiencies.  13th generation research had focused on increasing lung capacity, resilience and oxygenation efficiency…they would be able to survive in extreme altitudes with no loss of blood oxygen, their muscle uptake of oxygen was also 25% more efficient than generation 12’s like herself.

She stood and stretched out…it was important work…but it paled in comparison to Project Aethenaea…across from her desk on the wall were holographs of the Prime Directors of the Genetic Sciences since it had been established centuries ago…in the fight against disease and death they were the vanguard…the heroes one might say…developing genetic improvements rolled out to the population at intervals…improving life for every future generation…all with a view to completing Project Aethenaea…the true Goal…a perfect Aethan..as strong and healthy as could possibly be short of ceasing to be a carbon based life form. 

Each generation built of the progress on Project Aethenaea, and as they devised a more prefect Genetic code, they rolled out some to the population at large…steps toward a perfect race. 

It was an ironic name, she mused as she packed up for the day, slipping her mobile computer in her pack, and casting a warm glance towards the small white and gold statue of Aethenaea on her desk – a gift from her wife when she had been promoted.

Aethenaea was the ancient Goddess of Wisdom, the patron of the Aethan peoples, the full name was Athena ‘a ‘aether, the “’a” an ancient joining word that signified joint identity and ownership…Athena was the Aether, the Aether was Athena.

The irony was that the goddess had long since ceased being an object of worship, the pursuit of wisdom and knowledge for which she was named had inevitably lead them to conclude there were no Deities, but still the concept lived on, an ideal wise and powerful being…all Gods she knew were simply reflections of the minds which created them – yes woman made God in her mind….but through project Aethenaea…one day…woman would make a goddess.
************************************************************************************
She placed her pack down on the entry way door as her daughter ran up to her, she bent and scooped her up, “Mili…how are you,” she kissed her warm little cheeks “did you have fun day!”

“I chased a Voynk,” 

“You chased a Vorynx! Wow was it a big one, what colour was it,”  she asked as she walked her toward the main room where her father was finishing their evening meal,

“It was blue and bwack,”  her father had obviously taken her to one of the nearby parks that had small mechanical animals for the children to play with.  Mili was only four but already showing great promise, a 12-3 generation child – Milis grandparents had been amongst the first 12th generation children born, 12-1’s, they in turn birthed her, a 12-2, and she and her wife had created Mili a 12-3 via dual egg reproduction.  Mili’s children would certainly be 13-1’s in turn - by the time she was fertile the 13th generation rollout would be well underway. 

“Cilinaea will be late,” her father noted, that wasn’t uncommon, she was Director in the Aethan Defence force,

“Well we’ll just have to start without her then, come on Mili..ooh look your favourite Gormin sticks!,”
Her petite green eyes lit up, and she had to tighten her grasp as Mili let go of her neck to clap excitedly.
***********************************************************************************
The mood was tense, the faces fallen after the Prime Director of Defence had delivered her report. 

“Options,” High Director Varens asked the room…all twenty five Prime Directors of the Aethan Technocracy were assembled, along with the High Director who acted as the mediators of such gatherings, overseeing the Technocracy like a President in a Republic.

“We knew it would happen eventually…”  Agriculture said,

“But not this soon…that’s was why our ancestors settled here…this deep into the core…” Education replied

“It is prime ground for miners though…the gravity creates minerals found nowhere else…in some ways we’ve been lucky to avoid detection for so long,”  Astro-cosmology added

“We can’t risk direct confrontation…I suggest infiltration...in the meantime we refocus our efforts on military production,” Social affairs suggested

“What use is military production if our weapons are technologically inferior…I say we infiltrate, steal their technology and adapt it…” Geology proposed, general agreement suffused the aether.

“Hopefully the rest of the galaxy still has low percentages of aetheric ability…that will be our greatest advantage,” Varens said then turned to her,

“Genetics,”  they didn’t use names in formal meetings, it kept personalities out of discussions and focused on areas of expertise, “If we were to create Project Aethenaea as it currently stands what would we produce, in broad terms,”

She nodded, “I would estimate the equivalent of four of generations of improvements above 13 which we are currently finalising,”  Project Aethenaea never ended, it was the quest for perfection, but always several steps ahead of what could be rolled out to the population at large. 

“Approximately generation 17…maybe 18, although we could incorporate some additional components being researched to push it to 20,”

“any progress on the Y chromosome issues,”  Project Aethenaea focused almost exclusively on a female ideal, the Y chromosome threw up too many difficulties,

“We could manage it, it wouldn’t be quite as strong overall…but it would have a differing set of strengths that would be useful,”

“Aetheric Sciences…the infusion methods?” Varens turned to the Prime Director of Aetheric Sciences, who advanced and researched the use of the aether

“Are ready…depending on the level you wish to achieve…”

“Maximum possible,”

“that would require quite a…blood sacrifice to use an archaic term…”

“how many,”

“three of four hundred at least,”

“Social Affairs could we manage it with volunteers?”

“If the people understand the threat…I think so,”

Varens eyes hardened, “Defence, how long do we have,”

Defence shifted in her seat, “If we pull back from the surrounding systems immediately…the Tri Nova Passage should prove a significant barrier for them progressing any further…given the average time it would take to populate the systems perhaps a decade, maybe two if they are not a unified force.”

“This is a dangerous time for us….we need to use every resource to protect ourselves…Genetics, begin production of a Project Aethenaea female immediately, co-ordinate with Aetheric Sciences and Social affairs I want it fully powered…if possible prepare a male as well,”

She nodded…she couldn’t contain her excitement, no doubt it flowed openly into the aether about her…so much to do…finalise the sequences, find mothers to carry the children, arrange for families to rear them…

Funny she thought, that science would birth the closest thing to a real goddess that had ever existed…Aethenaea might yet live one day 

So the Children are the product of genetic manipulation! Serving ... the goddess!
Hmm.
I won't pretend to really understand how this is all tying together, but the threads of connection I can see are intriguing!  This is beginning to feel much like a post-apocalyptic kind of scenario. 
As for the writing itself, nicely done.  :-)  I like the flow and tenor of the piece.  It feels a LOT like a cold-war story at this point. 
You can see the beginnings of the threads of your story here.  And it gives a lot more impact and meaning to the title as well.  :-)  These are not just children of the force, they are the offspring of a deliberate genetic project designed to enhance them, especially in the area of force usage, sensitivity and power.

Nice.  I am GREATLY anticipating this next story!  :-)

Yes, everything that Karm said. I am honestly a little confused, but I think you will clear that up soon. One thing I really liked, was the hints to the names of the characters from CotA. Cool way to tie it all together, even if I don't understand it all.

Excellent!  You FINALLY answered that question: "How are the Aethans all Force-sensitive?"

Karm's right: the ambiance of this installment reminds me of the "post-apocalyptic" stories I read back as a teenager.  You have a society at the pinnacle of its advancement...and something goes really, REALLY wrong.  "And Man Grew Proud" type of thing  ;)

LSG, your writing is phenomenal: the world building is so detailed (e.g. the various dept. heads referring to themselves BY their dept., to say nothing of the function of the depts. in question: "Agriculture, Education, Genetics").

Ahh, so we get a glimpse of the Red Goddess...or at least a precursor, perhaps?  And what happens that allows for the integration of the Y chromosome in the gene pool (as in CotA)?  Is that one of the reasons for the decline in population or did they figure out the problems and fix them?

See?  GREAT WRITING!  LOVING these Interludes!

Until next installment friends  :)

Thank guys, yeah I wanted it to answer that question, also to show a massive change in their culture due to the Collapse, confident, advanced, growing to where they are in CotA - medieval, a population that can't sustain itself, scrounging ruins for scraps of knowledge their own past forgotten....yet there are still commonalities, a drive to improve themselves, belief in their own powers, and a complete absence of any conventional morality.   

Hopefully this ties it together, and addresses more of the mysteries, but if there are things you still don't follow I'm happy to write an extra chapter.

[/b]


Sorcerer…an archaic word….a person believed to have magical powers, dealing with the occult, spirits and demons…a character from a children’s story…yet that was what his directorate was nicknamed.

Perhaps to the first colonists they would’ve seemed like sorcerers…in those days the aether was rare, only 10% of the population…until the Purification of the Infants during the 3rd generation....and true some techniques were based on ‘Sith Magick” stolen by the Defence Directorate but it was hardly something super natural....the aether was a bedrock of the natural, like gravity or radiation…another force to be studied. 

He was the ‘Master Sorcerer’ the Prime Director of the Aetheric Sciences Division in the Technocracy. 

He smiled at the thought of being termed a sorcerer as the red lighting flashed from his fingertips onto the gobril – a small hand sized mammal – it certainly seemed like magick…the gobrils flesh tore away in the sealed chamber, the bones and flesh began to dissolve…the carbon reformed into a diamond crystalline coating around the every decreasing body.  Cameras recorded every moment, detectors measured the energy output from his fingers.

There was an art to doing this as well as science…reducing a creature to an undifferentiated mass of chemicals and stem-cells encased in a hardened diamond was not a purely mechanical process their studies had found.   But this was consistent with the variable nature of the aether itself.

Up to the 6th Generation, scientists had hypothesised aetheric ability was correlated only to midi-chlorian population per cell. Studies by 7th an 8th Generation scientists has disproven this, they had shown that aeterhic power, often measured by the voltage of aetheric lighting emanations over sustained time periods in controlled conditions, was also influenced by emotional state, age, frequency of aetheric usage and psychological profile.  Hereditary factors were also considerable but not in relation to midi-chlorian level heritability.  The aether, and the ability to use it was far more complicated than just midi-chlorians.

He completed the process, in place of the gobril was a coarse crystal like formation, within a deep red - the very stuff of life- sealed inside.  He activated the mechanical arms and placed it in a small storage box. 

Disengaging the locks he switched off the recording devices and time stamped the experiments end, it would go now to the data base for analysis.  He stood and surveyed the laboratory as he headed to the depository.  Twenty other so called ‘sorcerers’ were going about their experiments, some encasing –as the process was termed - small animals or insects as he had just done, others ‘reanimating’, the second phase of the process.   

He paused at a station where a Mid-tier scientist was reanimating under the gaze of a high-tier scientist, just below director level, and the laboratories Director of Staff Management.  Inside the test cell the mid-tier was attempting to transform an encased Gobril back into a living gobril, within the diamond outer a foetus of a gobril was forming through the application of red Aetheric Lightning. 

The lightning catalysed the dormant cells back to life through mechanisms not fully understood – thereafter the cells would use the biological slurry to start to reform the organism – it acted much like a womb in that sense, a cloning vat almost. 

He continued on and placed his gobril into storage, it was to be reanimated in one years time – they were experimenting to see how long after encasing an organism could be successfully reanimated.  The scope of what could be achieved was enormous…they could already reanimate small animals, less successful with insects which tended to die after a few hours…but if they could refine the process…successfully encase and reanimate Aethans…they could theoretically live forever…

After reanimation the animal was essentially reborn as an infant…applied to humans the dream was to encase them during old age, reduce them down to a slurry of cells and biological matter, then reanimate them back to youth.  But that was not all.  The Genetic sciences division was working on ways to directly integrate new generational cell programming into living Aethans – potentially they could encase an 13-4 generation Aethan like himself with 15th generation genetic modifications, and rebirth him in a 15th generation body – not only returned to youth, but with an improved body!


***************************************************************************************

The ‘familiars’ lab - named for the pets witches of old were said to keep, housed all manner of aether sensitive species.  He walked along the catwalks above the animal cages as the section head went through the latest progress reports.

“Gotal receptiveness increases in a broadly linear function with prolonged exposure…overall rising from barely better than chance to 70% accuracy after 15 days.”

He nodded as they passed the Ysalimiri cages, the aether suddenly diminishing in the Ysalimiri’s aether repelling bubble.  These were a deep curiosity, and they had been intent on unlocking their secrets.  Initially they had regular Aethans try to use the aether in their presence with no effect.  Then the Defence had acquired Gotals from the Siths slave ships, somehow they were better able to use the force in the Ysalimiris presence than aethans…the mechanism to do with their head cones innate elector magnetic sensors.  They had six force sensitive Gotals for experimentation, acquired specifically by the Elite Aethenaea pair themselves. 

“Our current hypothesis is that their biology adapts to the null field over time…we believe it can be replicated in Aethans by deliberate focus on certain aetheric emanations natural to our own biology….but testing will continue…”

He nodded, if they could use the aether in the presence of the null field…

“And the null field duplication…”  he referred to the second aim of the current program, to train Aethans to replicate the null fields the Ysalimiri produced.

“Ah yes, the results are still being analysed from the last trial…however results are promising…”  The had been training Defence Forces in creating null fields, with only marginal success so far, such fields would give their infiltration teams a dramatic edge in their raids, enabling them to avoid detection by the Sith’s sensitive.

“an estimate,”

“Well…you know I don’t like to speculate before the data is verified…” he gave him a firm ‘boss’ look,

“eh…preliminary analysis shows a 0.5 metre null field sustainable for around 25 seconds…deflecting all typical lightning, fire, telekinetic and mental attacks” 

He thought for a moment…

“I may speak to the High director…see if she can spare one of Aethenaea for a one off trial…see if they can do better,” 
***************************************************************************************
His aetheric presence signalled his credentials and the guard allowed him to pass into the deepest of the laboratories, the walls a cool blue, the air crisp from the air conditioners. 

The heavy door slid open to reveal the final piece of the puzzle…the most sorcerer like of all their creations…the ‘Soul Exchanger’ they nicknamed it…a device infused with the aether.

It was made of a carefully crafted single piece of the mineral commonly called ‘Black Heart’.  The mineral had been found during the 7th generation, the first expansion beyond Aethas, on a planet dangerously close to the point of no return – the point where one strays so close to the black hole at the core of the galaxy that their best ships would not be able to escape from it. 

To the side scientists went about their various tasks, he stood behind two working on a piece of ‘Black Heart’  it was a rich deep black, forged by the extreme gravity of the deep core, it compressed three carbon covalent network lattices into each other with titanium, Tungsten and Chromium molecules interspersed in the gaps forming and extremely strong internal mineral.  The density of the material was extreme, without the aether a normal person could not lift a hand size chunk…and only extreme use of the aether had proven strong enough to meld it into useable shapes.

They were checking its infusion ratios – black heart was able to ‘absorb’ aetheric energy through an unknown mechanism, and this was the source of its true power.  In the centre of the chamber the ‘Soul Exchanger’ sat, dark and dominating, the density of the black heart meant it had a gravitational influence all of its own, pulling you toward it.

He had to admit it did look like some kind of cultic ritual altar…not surprising given it was based on Sith designs…and its function…to store the aetheric presence of a living being during the encasing process.  They had experimented on trained Vorynx so far, extracting their aetheric presence into the device, then returned to the body…the returned Vorynx seemed to be able to recall the majority of commands they had been taught before the transition, but there had been some losses, and unusual shifts in behaviour. The next tests would be on captured prisoners.

Scientists, mid and high tier, a few basic and graduate tiers stood at consoles around it, performing calculations, predicting outcomes….soon they would begin testing it on Aethans…and then…Immortality awaited.

...And further down the rabbit hole we go  ;)

I love the play on a normally esoteric description like "sorcerer" and how it's now applied scientifically, more so because they are aware of the irony  :D. But why not?  Look at the entomology of many of our words; go back far enough and many of them are VERY different from the original meaning.

Which brings me to my point: was the "Aethans Project" the same during 15th Generation as it was from 1st Generation?  Or has it changed (and by how much)?  I am thinking that the Red Goddess isn't what they had exact in mind...

I like the time skip; really portends ominously since the "target" 20th Generation is coming soon...and we know the Collapse is on the horizon...Outstanding LSG.

Until next installment friends  :)

[/b]

Blood congealed and spilt from open wounds, armour battered and scratched, arms sore from the constant fighting.  He had to go on. 

The Sith before him would not let up, would show no mercy, he was charging at him again, crimson blade in hand.  He pushed with the aether straight toward him, a clumsy obvious attack, the Sith deflected it with his own telekinetic attack with ease, but in the brief moment he had to concentrate on doing that he launched two more blasts from either side, not the usual blunt hammers of blasts the sith used, these were razor thin long lines of aetheric energy. 

The sith barely noticed them in time to stop them, but it slowed his charge just enough for Valance to stand and block the charge with his sword, they clashed furiously on the physical plain while attempting to send objects and aetheric force pushes to the side.  Mentally the battle raged as well, the Sith trying to fill his mind with horrific images as Valance tried to confuse his senses by projecting his presence around the room.  They locked closer and closer, the Sith driving the blade down…Valance own sword could not take much more…it had a thin Kortosis weave…enough to counter a blade, but not deactivate it.  The Sith was pressing right up to him, the red light started to char his cheek.

Then Valance pulled in his presence tightly and pushed out the reflection of it – The Ysalimiri technique…or Yalsam as their gene edited version was now known, it created a void in the aether around him.  The Siths face dropped, he physically crumpled backwards, dropping his sabre, his hands on his head as the aether vanished for him. In his confusion Valance surged forward and lopped off his raised arms at the elbow then a leg in a graceful arc. 

As Valance slowly undid his void the Sith lay bleeding profusely at his feet, utterly crippled.  The aether steadily flowed back to him as he grasped the weakened siths head, then like a needle he injected himself into the Sith’s mind, drawing out what memories he could before the Sith regained the strength to resist him… he drew deeply…vicious training, beatings, humiliation, turned to strength and fury, murder, manipulation…and techniques, controlling underlings, twisting their flesh and minds to serve him…that was half of what Valance had come for.

The sith died of blood loss before Valance had finished and he pulled out, then calmly walked toward the other end of the chamber where the re pyramidal holocron sat…the other half of his task.  He keyed the frequency on his gauntlet to General Orus for extraction from the Siths Palace, he hoped She would be pleased.

*********************************************************************************************

The Ante chamber was round with an aetherically carved relief in the super dense White-Heart around the walls.  It showed their peoples history.

As he waited for Her, he gazed at the first panel…the first generation, fleeing from the war between Sith ad the Republic, from famine, persecution and disease, to the deep core to find safety, peace in which to pursue their scientific goals.

The second panel…disease and disability were not so easily out run…the solution of the meritocratic technocracy was to edit the genes of the unborn across the whole population – a pre-birth vaccination to cure genetic diseases. 

The third panel…though improved the diseases continued…they determined the diseases that plagued them were passed on by children born without a strong connection to the aether…the only choice was to purify that generation…

The fourth and fifth showed the beginning of the Gene Genrations, not just editing the unborn to stave off disease…but to improve the population…every unborn child received the same treatment, passing on these traits to natural children, until a new Gene generation treatment was developed, usually every 50 years, and again rolled out to the whole of a new generation before their birth, with every fertile woman required to birth children made from her own eggs with the new Gene generation enhancements…the population boomed as shown in the abundance of fertility on the panel, the Goddess of love and pleasure Aephrodaea surrounded by her pregnant daughters.

Further panels and more Gene generations, no dogmatic laws and morals restrained their improvements, the start of a Golden age in joyous freedom and isolation. 

Carvings of their ships, mining and research stations, showed their first expansion to new worlds, men and women shown using the aether to work the ultra-dense minerals found in the deep core- known colloquially as black-heart, white-heart, blood-stone, storm-stone and a dozen more.

But then, toward the end of the 12th Gene Generation…the remnants of the Sith Empire had encroached near them…the Sith military technology was more advanced, and their numbers far dwarfed the 5 million Aethans…their response was subterfuge, stealing their technology and techniques whilst keeping their world and their societies very existence a secret.  The carvings showed the first Guardian squads who stole blue prints and technologies.

The next panel depicted the birth of Aethena, the pinnacle of genetic advancement in the 12th Gene Generation…he had been created shortly after with the same techniques but with concessions to make a male, no murals would show him…she was the embodiment of centuries of striving for perfection, sent to infiltrate and learn from the Sith and beyond beside the Guardians…

The ornate doors showed her victory against the Sith Master Dy’Ganna who had determined the location of their world…their greatest secret…to the left of her image the Goddess Aertemisaea, of strength, vigour, battle, above Aethenaea, wisdom, knowledge, understanding for whom she was named, and on the right, Aephrodaea, of love and pleasure…these ancient Goddesses were carved in Her likeness. 

A yellow light signalled above the door, she was ready, he passed through a small chamber filled with hidden weapons to Her actual room  The inner door slid quietly open with the unmistakeable touch of Her power.

The vast room was framed by light grey walls with white sheets and furniture, a bed at the far end white synth-satin, the one spot of colour was Her, sitting on the end of the bed, her red hair loose, in a blood red synth-silk robe that seemed a few sizes too small. 

As she stood and moved toward him he felt the strength of her…it was like being smothered in a red tide, enveloping in a sweet way...yet drowning in another. 

He was the only one who could potentially ever match her...what others less powerful felt in her presence he feared to imagine.  She was Aethena, created to be as perfect as any being could be, infused with powers beyond most Aethans comprehension, the equivalent of 22nd Generation gene editing…as it stood the population was 1 million 17th Generation and 4 million 18th Generation, none a match for her…and soon less so still.

“you brought it I see,” she glanced at the black box under his left arm that contained the holocron.

She came within arm’s length and stroked his cheek.

“you’re not hurt are you,” she had such sweet concern in her voice,

“Nothing serious,”  Her eyes scanned over him,

“Hmm…mostly healed, shall I,” she didn’t wait for an answer, red lighting flicked from her index finder and onto his side completing the cellular repair.   

She gestured to the silver table, he placed the box down upon it and opened it.

“The holocron of Hyssis Y’atar, disciple of Karness Muur,” the red light of the holocron illuminated her overly green eyes bathing her features in a soft red glow…her face was common everywhere on Aethas now…a heroic warrior, an incomparable beauty, an unmatched genius…every statue used her as model depicting their Goddesses…though no longer worshipped them, they represented their culture…in that way she had become the living goddess, the living synergy of the triple goddess…

“Anything or interest in its former owner,”

“A few hints, but he was too preoccupied with the internecine conflicts to delve deeply into it…but it should have what we need,”

It had taken two years of searching and raids, whilst their tests had been successful, they knew the Sith had knowledge of a more elegant solution to essence transferal.  Combined with the new Genetic advances and device and encasing methods Aetheric Studies had developed…

“Good…”  she closed the lid and ran her hands over her body, “170 years is such a long time, I can’t wait for a new body,”  The fact that she still had a mid-twenties body didn’t seem enough for her, he wanted one too of course, but for the genetic improvements,

“Anything important happen in my absence,” he inquired,

She rounded her head stretching her neck,

“mmm just the usual, the Technocracy approved 19th generation editing to commence next month, mining operations on Aedaea are progressing slower than expected…” She moved right up to him and put her arms around his neck her hands clasped behind him, “But that’s all boring, you’ve been gone so long…” her nose brushed his, “I’ve missed you,” 

Her presence was so intoxicating it was hard to tell whether he was desiring her, or he was feeling her desire for him….  It didn’t matter, few people ever got into this room, few people saw her like this, and only he got to do this with her.
*********************************************************************************************
The Aetheric Signature Transference Device, or “altar” as they called it for short, lay in the centre of the blue and white laboratory, surrounded by various machines designed to record and analyse each step.

The scientists busied around it, preparing for the transition. .In the viewing room stood thirteen of the twenty four Prime Directors of the Technocracy, as well as the High Director himself.  He nodded to them, but could feel their anxiety in the aether.  They were terrified it would fail…and horrified it might succeed…They worried what he, but mostly She had become…with every year their power, their abilities had grown, beyond all expectations. 

She entered the room in a thin white medical gown.  They had tested this on others, but this would be the first time for one of the Aethenaen’s...she would if it went well be reborn into a body with the latest advances…30th generation, leaping well past the 18th Gene generation that made up the bulk of the population…far beyond anyone’s ability to control at that level….if she so chose. 

They had developed generations 14 through 19 based on their studies of Her, though sequential in number the improvements between the generations were becoming exponential in the population at large…an 18th Gene Generation Aethan was twice as physically strong and healthy on every measure as a 14th Gene generation…at 22nd she, and he were already twice that of the 18th, to make her 30th…she would almost be almost quadruple their physical and mental abilities…and in the aether….

“Everything ready,” Aethena said as she tied back her long red hair,

The head Geneticist looked up, “All is in readiness my lady,”

“Good,” she slipped out of the gown and garnered not a few trembling stares from the men and women in the room…the aether became suddenly suffused with attempts to reign in desire…she smiled mischievously at it all.

She lay down on the altar as the geneticists gathered round,

“Confirm commencement time, 06:72”

“confirmed 06:72”

He stepped up to the altar and looked down upon her his thoughts threatening to wander, but he retained his focus,

“We can play later…when we’re both young again…” she promised as he felt her aura recede into the altar, the tendrils of energy between her body and the meticulously wrought black stone strong, the excess she channelled into him.  Her eyes closed as her consciousness shifted out and into the Transference Device.   

The Geneticists stepped forward and began injecting her with litres and litres of biological fluids they had extracted from her earlier then edited to 30th Gene Generation, it bloated her body as the lamps above lowered the temperature. 

Red lighting coursed from his fingers to surround her body, pieces of skin and muscles begun to flake off swirling around her like orbiting planets…her body receded as the diamond made of her bodies carbon, formed around her and other components reduced to a deep red slurry.  Sweat began to build on his brow, his body began to feel drained from pouring out so much aetheric energy.

After nearly an hour it was finished, all that remained was a long oval shaped jagged diamond, containing a sea of deep red fluids.   

“Stage 1 complete 07:84”,
“Confirm 07:84”

He backed away from the ‘altar’, he would have to rest before proceeding to stage 2.
*********************************************************************************************
They lived above the Fortress of Aertemisaea…named for the ancient goddess Aertemis of the Aether…one of the triune Goddess that the people had once worshipped before such delusions were educated out them.

He was using the aether to craft another small miniature to add to his collection…in the raids he lead the elite Guardian squad, the best of the Defence forces…each member he recreated out of White Heart in miniature…a tribute to them…over 150 years nearly 300 men and women had come and gone as part of the squad Guardians…for each he had crafted a statuette…some dying in combat…others of old age…this was the little he could do to remember them all.

The door chimed and the High Director stepped in…the old man was 16th Gene generation, one of only a handful left, born nearly 120 years ago…he still looked like a man in his forties – such were the boons gene editing had given their people…it was said 19th gene generation would not physically age past 25 at all. 

“Valance,” 

“Anderis,” he replied, they had been friends for all 40 years of his High Directorship,

“Recovered from stage 1 I hope,”

“Almost completely,” he replied honestly,

“Good,” he took a chair….

“there is something I need to ask you…in strict confidence…” he leaned forward, “whilst I’m certain we have it correct…there is always a chance she could come back…worse than before…” 

Valance knew what he was referring to…

Though superior in every way, she was no perfect…an unintended and unanticipated reproductive gene expression and hormonal imbalance had resulted in her developing pheromone receptors keyed to female pheromones…not really a problem…but that same hormonal over balance left her with a near insatiable appetite for female intimacy and the pheromones it released…truly an avatar of the goddess Aephrodaea one might say….

“Hopefully the issue will be corrected in her new DNA….but if it does linger or worsen…could you take her?”

The problem with her desires was that where a woman didn’t return her advances, she had no compunction using the aether to make them want her….Valance then had to come in and mind wipe them to avoid any ongoing trauma…

Their laws were few, their culture was a flexible guide that emphasised the pursuit of knowledge, understanding, and above all survival …this and the key role she had carved in the minds of every Aethan as the embodiment of their society meant they didn’t stop her…but anyone wo couldn’t moderate their desires was a danger….

He looked at Valance intently, “Could you kill her if you had to?”

He had wondered that himself…his bond to her was strong though one sided…their sibling like genetic similarity and superiority created a commonality no one could share, she used him as a toy, a physical and emotional plaything…he knew it, but didn’t care, she was the only being he had any attraction to.

“As she was before…” he returned his mind to the topic at hand…”Yes, with the support of the Guardian Squad I could…just…but after she is reborn…” he left it hanging

Anderis nodded, “It is highly unlikely…,” he sighed, his presence in the aether somewhat despondent, “We can only trust that everything goes well…or at least she transitions you to 30th Generation quickly as well…” 

He stood up and looked over Valance collection of miniatures,

“So many years we’ve been raiding and stealing from the Sith…the nearby free worlds, the Republic…”  his presence dimmed…”It’s only a matter of time before they find us…before they hit back…”

He turned to look Valance in the eye, “We need this to work…Prime Directors of Genetics and Aetheric Studies inform me if his works we could use the same method to transition the entire population to 30th Generation…can you imagine, our entire population leaping light years ahead in health, strength, mental acuity…Social Affairs says if they see their “goddess” transition people will flock to do it…we already have the additional Transference Devices in production….”

Valance asked the obvious question, “And if it falls apart?” 

Anderis stared intently at one of the older models he had made, one familiar to them both, Yoranaea…a 16th Gene generation woman, Anderis grand-niece in fact, killed whilst covering for Valance escaping from Byss nearly 70 years ago.

“Then we may very well collapse with it.”
*********************************************************************************************
Stage 2…reanimation. 

The lightning flickered to a violet colour as he artificially sped a single stem cells growth in the diamond tomb that encased his sister…his lovers…his goddess’s body

It drew resources from the red fluid around it duplicating, 2 cells, 4, 8 ,16, 32, 64…

As more cells developed the energy from the altar began flowing back into the flesh making his input less necessary as it energized its own growth. 

Differentiation began, a foetus formed the red depths.  The safe zone reached, he relaxed the flow of energy from his hands, the worse that could happen was they extracted her and placed her in a surrogate mother to grow as a normal child till she was ready for the full return of her consciousness from the altar…he mused on that perhaps it would be better if she were re-raised as an infant, it would modify her personality if nothing else.

As he strained to keep pouring in energy the baby grew - to a young girl, to a teenager, a young woman, there it stabilised at an age in-between an adult and a teenager, between 18 and 20 in a naturally grown aethan.

His arms feeling as heavy as Black-heart dropped, he fell to his knees, it was only now that he noticed the burns across his skin, in the reflection of the sterile floor his face was ravaged and old from such intense aether use.  The emergency med team began applying bandages, injecting him with fluids providing raw materials for his enhanced body to repair itself. 

The tendrils of energy competed their transition from the Transference device back into her body.  The diamond around her body began to crack…

Like a scene from some ancient myth, red lighting and aetheric fire crackled around her as the closest thing to a Goddess ever made rose from the ‘altar’,

Ah, and now we know the significance of the "alter."  Truly, the Red Goddess is terrifying!  Your writing portends for a truly ominous future! 

I like the hint/reference to the ancient Greek pantheon of goddesses.  And, correct me if I am mistaken, is the Red Goddess a plural being (e.g. "three goddesses")?  Speaking of similarities in nomenclature: "Valance" and "Valens" must be intentional  :)

I realize that Aethan society doesn't share our values system but I wonder if the inclusion of Sith tech and/or knowledge didn't help contribute to the Collapse, inadvertently or not...Did I mention that the Red Goddess is terrifying?

LSG I love bow you've taken the SW universe and injected a bit of...Lovecraft into it  ;). I can only imagine where you go from here but I can't wait to find out!

Until next installment friends  :)

Lovecraft is a good parallel...I guess my idea was it only made sense somewhere in the galaxy some one with the Force would a) study it scientifically and/or b) try and create something very powerful with it, which is what these people are doing, like in Lovecraft people study the paranormal and try and summon or control Ancient creatures and powers.  Obviously in the Republic, and even amongst the Sith the Aethans would be seen as a very dangerous cult and immediately suppressed.  But yeah its a synthesis of technology and the supernatural (Force) unleashed with no restraints...of course there had to be a flaw.... 

She's not a plural being per se, its more that the people see her as representing the best of all three goddesses - essentially its a like a reverse myth - normally there is a famous powerful person, they die a legend grows turns to myth and they are deified...in this case they all know the Goddesses are not real (but still use them in their art etc.), but they have tried to create something real that fulfils those ideal characteristics.  Of course then after the Collapse it goes back the other way, her story become legend, myth and eventually she's a God. 

Oh and yes a little easily missed bit at the end of CotA is that She calls Valens, Valance and it triggers his memories but only whilst touching the altar - to save you re-reading basically he was stuck there in infant form for who knows how long before Melron found him, gave him to Andis etc. etc. 

Or at least that was what I was going for...but I think I bit off more than I could express in those concepts and connections - makes sense in my own head! 

Anyway the next interludes will be shifting back to post CotA time period...after all the Sequel is called Legacy...

Yes, the synthesis between science and metaphysics (the Force) is a wonderful driving device in your stories.  And while I am certainly no Luddite, one must be very careful with how one uses technology  ;)

And thanks for the heads-up with Valens; I should have caught that  :D.

Ah gotcha about the nature (or at least the perception) of the Red Goddess.  Aren't most of our role models seen as having multiple virtues which we can attribute to Greater Beings, etc.?  ;D

I can't wait for the next installment!

Just a short interlude to SotO, but if you haven't read the latest chapter, I would recommend reading that first. Although not extremely important, this does contain minor spoilers from the latest chapter of SotO.


   
Taking off and flying out towards space, there was a bright flash in the corner of my eye. Lightning? I thought. There aren’t any clouds to cause it. I quickly banked my ship, the Scholar’s Revenge, turning towards the source of the light. I watched as a gigantic something come smashing down. Soon the Lancer-Class pursuit craft was sitting down a short distance away. After putting on my old clone scout trooper helmet, I picked up my heavily modified E-22 blaster rifle. After placing the strap over my head and arm, I stalk down the ramp.
   
As is my custom, I quickly survey my surroundings before heading off in the direction of the crash. Just then, I see a tall man dressed all in black collapse beside what I now realized to be a gorog. Approaching the beast cautiously, I quickly look over it to make sure it is dead. I have a pretty good feeling it is, seeing as there are two of its own tusks protruding out if its eyes.  The smell from the charred flesh around eyes of the beast, threatens to make me gag. I’ve smelled things worse, but never this strong. Wonder what caused that. I think. Moving now away from the creature, I checked on the man. He had a long black metal stick laying on the ground beside him, and a dark helmet on. Removing my own helmet, I kneel down, and feel his pulse. He’s alive but unconscious, I think to myself. Upon further examination, I find that there do not seem to be any broken bones, just scratches and bruises.
   
Seeing no immediate threats nearby, I quickly go back to the ship for some healing supplies. I hurry back to the man, and remove his helmet. It seems strange to me how the man is attired. Pretty much all in black or grey with a few red accents. Underneath the helmet is young man strong and hard. As I dress his wounds, he begins to mumble something about “doom”. Whose doom? I wonder as I continue treating him. The injuries are not terrible, though there was a big scrape along his chest. "That one’ll leave a scar”, I mumble to myself as I dress and try to stop the wound from bleeding. From the wounds combined with the fatigue from fighting such a monster, it was a wonder that the man was only unconscious. This is one tough bloke, I mused as I continued my work.
   
Soon I was finished, and went off to find some supplies for a fire. With night now approaching, I needed a way to keep him warm, and safe while he recovered. As the night progressed, he began to mumble again. This time, besides the constant “doom”, there was also “temple”, and “practice”. The words make no sense to me, and I mostly ignore anything he has to say while I watch over him. About three hours before sunrise, this dark warrior starts getting worse. Some of his scrapes and scratches have closed up, but most were still open, and the one on his chest has begun to bleed profusely.
   
As daylight comes, I finally get the man’s chest to stop bleeding, though the wound will open up again if he is not careful. Just as I sit down for a quick rest, the man stirs, and begins to awake. Not knowing what his first reaction will be, I pick up my blaster, and rise. Standing ready for whatever is to come.

Oh I like this!  That's exactly why I thought (and hoped) an Interludes thread would be perfect: enriching the established storyline!  Who is this wanderer? Clearly his motives are laudable; he's helping out Rowahn after his epc fight with the gorog.  And good job authoring this installment with a noticeably different "voice!"  I know how...disconcerting that can be  ;)

This makes me look forward to more SotO that much more!  Short but enjoyable interlude!

Great job TR  :)

Interesting a few hints I think about the nature of this person in the ships name and his Equipment, as well as cautious approach. Will just have to keep guessing till the next chapter!

This interlude was incredible hard for me to write. Not because it was from this other person's POV, but because it was from First Person POV. I could have easily written it in FP if I was narrating or some other way of putting it in past tense, but I wanted it in present tense. Any interludes I do will be like this one. Some will be longer though. Yes LSG, there were a few hints to who he is, but that will all be answered in the next chapter. Anyways, I'm glad you enjoyed it.

I forgot to do it earlier, but I was planning on posting this character's ship and blaster. I guess I'll have to do that now.



(http://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/a/a9/Shadowport_Hunter_XWM.png/revision/latest?cb=20160928124328)

Or something similar. It is modified obviously.

(https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/8/86/E-22_Fathead.png/revision/latest?cb=20170126072146)

Once again, the blaster is modified. But it is the blaster that we see the Shore Troopers using in R1.

Twilight

"Kage, we have arrived at the coordinates."

Odjina, Kage of the Mak'Tor, Knight and Singer, opened his eyes and met those of the messenger.  Young Ho'Li'Mak was barely eighteen years old and had only passed her trials two months before.  Her flaming red hair and jade-green eyes were typical of the majority human population of the Mak'Tor, as well as the larger human community on M'Tzigon.  The Clans tended to be light skinned, blue or green eyed, and had hair ranging from red to blonde.  Strong in the force, she was unfortunately not blessed with the deep connection to the song that most of the Mak'Tor force sensitives had.  A connection that he shared, though it was even rarer among his own Twi'lek.  It seemed the humans had an advantage in hearing the Song, if not in force sensitivity itself.  Holly might never be a Master Singer, but her skills and abilities had been evident and she had passed her trials with ease.  At 18 she was already well on her way to becoming a skilled healer and cyberneticist.  These skills would be critical to the new colony.

Anger flared and Odjina pushed it back down.  It is not the time for anger... He rose and let his expression soften.  "Thank you, Holly.  Let's take a look, shall we?"

Holly smiled at him, a wane, sad smile, and preceded him out of the small chamber and into the small transport's main gallery.  Everyone was there: the ship was in the capable hands of their astromech droids for the final approach in real space.  Odjina looked around and met each set of eyes.  They were all counting on him, still stunned by the loss of the Spire and the ancient shrines.  Still shocked by the rupture of friendships and loss of fellowships.  Still very angry with the unusual and unnecessarily rough handling and expulsion from the Temple.

Anger.  Yes, they were all angry.  "So, we are here.  The planet Vyth.  Little is known of this world, but as you know I've seen that there is ... some import here.  Something critical that must take place.  I am compelled to be here by the Maker, it is decreed in the song and in the force.  That you have chosen to join me, my friends, warms my heart.  After recent events..."  Odjina couldn't stop his own voice from faltering as a fresh wave of anger rolled around the room.  He raised his hands.  "Yes, my friends.  I feel your anger.  I share it.  But nothing we can do will change what happened.  We must move on, and for us that means this place."

Odjina activated the holographic display and brought up an image of a massive cliff face, part of a larger and imposing mountain range.  Just visible in the cliff face was a darker opening to a cave which penetrated into the cliff.  "When our mission was expelled from the Temple, most of our people returned to M'Tzigon.  However, as I shared with each of you, I have seen this place in repeated visions.  Before we left, Master Soryu assisted me in finding this data record and identifying this place."

Images of those last, hectic days in the Temple came to him unbidden.  The debate in the Council, as that narrow-minded idiot Kimar argued for the "purification" of the Jedi orthodoxy.  Soryu, exasperated himself, noticing his own frantic searches through the famed Jedi Archives and offering his assistance.  The frenzy to collect the few Mak'Tor artifacts present in the Spire shrines as the tide in the council turned against them at last. The insult of the final expulsion at the hands of the Sentinels, sabers lit, and his enduring pride in the Mak'Tor knights who refused to be bated into the very conflict Kimar had predicted.  The sorrow as the songs of the Spire and the ancient shrines faded...

Odjida shook himself.  "The past is past.  We cannot change it, only grow from it.  Here, I think, is an important link in that growth."  He zoomed in the holograph, focussing on the cave.  "Here is hope."

******

The cave was large.  Larger than anyone had appreciated.

And it was beautiful.

The dark blue of the stone was studded everywhere with light-blue permafrost crystals.  The crystal lattice picked up the light and played it endlessly around the cave walls, creating a background of spectral, dancing color that seemed to shift and flow in time to the song...

The song hummed, complex interweaving of melody and harmony spinning and twining through the fabric of the force as well as the rock.  The sound was complex and joyful, but even in the joy there was an undercurrent of ... pain.  Pain and the sorrow of great loss...

Odjina shook himself free of the song, marvelling again at how strong the current was here.  The way the crystals seemed to focus that power was alternately joyous and terrifying.  There was much to learn here.  Much to learn...

But first survival.  The ship would leave soon.  They would need shelter and provisions.  His small colony was already unloading the basic equipment they would need to provide these things into cave, just deep enough to remain unnoticed.  For now they would stay in it's shelter.

Outside the local sun sank, filling the cave with the deep reds and purples of twilight.  The day was ending.  A new one would soon dawn.  With that new day would come hope and joy. 

But first, twilight...[i/]

AWSM Karm, simple but effective and some of the little details like being driven out by Sentinels with their sabres lit, just to rub their face in it...almost as if Kimar wanted them to fight....this have given me even further ideas...

This ties in beautifully with CotA Karm!  We knew Kimar was a jerk but now learning that he was also responsible for the expulsion of Gray Jedi?  What a rat... Excellently written my friend!

Looks like Holly may be an ancestor to Karm.  I really enjoy the layers of characterization that enrich this shared universe we have going here!  And nice easter egg with Soryu  :). "Permafrost?!"  Sounds vaguely...familiar  ;)

I'd like to see more of these Interludes; they bridge CotA and the Mak'Tor seamlessly  :). Perhaps a collaboration?  ;D ?

Keep them coming guys!  And gals (when/if any post here  ;)).

Aha!  You caught the name convention! 

Yes, Holly is related.  That's all I will say for now.  :-)

As promised in my Teaser, this is the first of some weekly interludes in the lead up to Legacy of the Aether, Children's more direct Sequel.  To position it these occur after Children of the Aether and both before, after and during Orphan which also crosses the bridge between Children and Leagcy. 

Again using this Interludes thread as an opportunity to try some new things, so tell me what works and what doesn't and as I mentioned before each one is a character you know and love (or hate...) from Children, so try and guess who it is!!

Again thanks for reading everyone!


“Return with the knowledge within” was the only instruction he had been given for his final trial. 

It was so obvious it had nothing to do with searching the caverns beneath the temple, but rather within himself, it was embarrassing they had even said it…perhaps it would’ve been more impressive had he not already obtained the memories and experiences of three Jedi knights.

The caverns were like a labyrinth, corridors of rock and old metal curving off into the darkness, some passage blocked up very deliberately.  The history of it interested him…and the future. 

He came across a stone door with old runes, the force around it had a strange feel…a will bound to a place…some kind of protection mechanism…like the curse upon some ancient tomb.  On anyone else it might work, but he had long since learned he was…different…from the other Jedi…somehow off to the side and above if he had to describe it visually. 

He tried to make out the runes but their meaning was lost to him…the curse like imperative in the force pushed into his mind, but he could ignore it.

Curious he sent his senses into the future…figures approached the door, then inexplicably killed themselves and each other…until two figures, vague at this distance in the future, but one recognisably male the other female approached.  The Female seemed to open it, the male stood behind her poised to cut her down…but something stopped him, some connection, some thread of…sound…not music...between them…very strange.

He contemplated entering himself, yet he realised this wasn’t his place.  He proceeded deeper into the quagmire of forgotten shrines, caverns and cult sites. 

There was no time in the force, past, present, future were all just a single infinity in which it existed, with sufficient power one could theoretically move between them freely…the problem was the physical body which was chained into a particular stream of space time…it anchored you…in some ways it was protective, in others restrictive, it was what kept you from moving too far forward or too far back...like a leash that could only stretch so far.

He used this power to see what had and would happen in dozens of shrines and alcoves, Sith, Jedi, Gray, monks, cultists all met, argued, loved, killed over centuries either side of him.  Some were amusing…most boring…

It was the same battle, repeated over and over again, the names and faces changed but the story stayed the same…the fight between those who wanted power to serve their individual desires, and the deluded who thought that stopping their excesses was noble and power should be used to serve the ‘many’.

Delusional for they didn’t realise that their belief that they were acting for some ‘greater good’ was in itself a selfish desire.  Good and evil were truths completely dependent on your certain point of view…no one was a self-conscious villain - only his enemy was. 

Deeper he plunged, the phantoms became more vague as he stepped further from his own time, but the cycle was the same…as pointless as ever...they fought over ideas like justice, honour, peace…concepts that did not exist beyond the minds of those who believed in them…it was truly the height of vanity to believe in something ephemeral so much you would give your life for it. 

Where in the galaxy could you find one atom of justice, a particle of peace, a wavelength of love?  He shook his head at the folly of it all…and the greatest folly still was they seemed trapped in their cycle, their cultures were enmeshed in this, from their very birth they were raised to believe in things that had no true meaning and value them beyond their own life…folly…it was all vanity…utter vanity….
*******************************************************************
After what may have been days, possibly weeks – when one shifted back and forth in time one lost track of ones anchor time – he came to a small shrine with a glowing red hand sized pyramid upon it.  He could see the recentness of visits in the phantoms…this was what the Jedi were testing some of their apprentices with, a Sith holocron…

He approached and from the top a face appeared, old and gnarled with short facial tentacles on its cheeks.  It spoke with a resonant voice “Welcome Jedi,”

He didn’t reply  merely stalked in a circle around the shrine for a long time

“Have you come to discover my secrets, or test yourself against me like the others,”

He said nothing

“Ah,” it said after a time, “A clever one, there have been other clever ones, they too failed…You know the Jedi cast out every one who they send here…this isn’t a test for the ones they want to become knights….this is the test they know you will fail…your fate is already decided,” 

He said nothing

“But you’re more clever than that.  So they fail you, you don’t need the Jedi you can become more powerful than them, with my guidance you can exceed them all!”

The holorcon entity tried to send a vision into his mind of power, glory, pleasure, it fizzled against his mind, the Holorcorn shuddered at its failure, the voice became distressed.

“you’re not a Jedi apprentice are you…you’re not a Sith either…not one of those foolish fence sitting Grays….”

He said nothing

“There is something familiar…did your sect kill the Jedi?” he laughed maniacally at that thought

He still said nothing

“Oh come now, give a lonely old man something….it’s so boring down here…even playing with the forclings they send every few years is getting boring…..”

He said nothing and turned to walk away,

“What too scared of what I might show you, running back to your masters?”

He paused, he could feel the phantom smile behind him…it didn’t last long…with shatter point technique he could see every crack, every little micro fracture in the holorcon, he dripped a little force in the cracks widening them ever so slightly

“what are you doing, would you destroy the knowledge I possess!” it cried

He kept cracking it

“Stop you fool! Even the Jedi would never destroy me much though they may fear me…Stop!”

He paused, the holocron was a knife edge away from fracturing,

“What have you done! You’re insane”

The Sith echo didn’t understand either, couldn’t see beyond the system in which it was born, he was still enmeshed in the cycle, and trying to gain power through another’s body…
He would take its knowledge, then finish it off.
*******************************************************************
“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. “

Of the masters he knelt before only three mattered, each took the words differently, it was not the answer they had anticipated, the far left looked inspired, amazed even, the middle cautious, concerned, the right serious and contemplative.  He had two out of three at least.

After some short looks and nods between them they ignited their sabres beside his head, the one in the centre said with little enthusiasm

“By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, I dub thee Jedi, Knight of the Republic”

This, I think, is one of my absolute favorite entries of yours. You successfully did something similar to what I am trying to do in my next chapter of SotO, and you did it well. I think I might know who it is, but still, I'm not positive. I absolutely loved your reference to Hide and Seek, it really went well with the rest of the interlude. The holocron also was great addition. I can't think of just a single thing that I liked about this entry. It was really just the whole thing. How it all went together naturally, and seemed very true to both Star Wars and your Aethan universe. Very well done.

LGS, I loved the cross-over nod.  :-)  Thanks!

OK, 'nuff about my stuff...

Valens.  This feels like Valens.  The stolen knowledge from three other Jedi, the deception but also almost brutal honesty of his interview at the end...  And the three Jedi are Yoda, Soryu and Kimar.  Or, in the order you had them: Soryu on the left, Yoda on the right, Kimar in the middle.  :-)

Very nice.  I loved the way you have him walking through the past and future.  Shatter point...  And I am also still amazed at the raw power of the Aethans. 

Thanks guys it was a fun one to write too...Karmacks right of course fairly obvious...but yeah I think the anonymity lends a weight to the story...but also glad my characterisation is still strong enough to get through especially for the three Jedi!

"I loved the way you have him walking through the past and future"

I wanted to focus on this since it reminded me of what I was learning about with Particle- and Quantum-Physics.  Just as Valens was able to glimpse future and past, not as a linear function but rather as cyclic, there are theories concerning the multiverse that each and every single choice is played out in an infinite number of realities.  That, once a choice is made, it collapses the wavefunction.  Once this happens, it is then impossible to experience "alternate" realities that play out the other options (the wavefunction having been collapsed).  Now: what IF having such...STRONG tethers to the Aether/Force allowed one to see/witness/perceive these different realities WITHOUT collapsing said wavefunction?  AND would that mean that one was STILL in a SINGLE reality without having the wavefunction collapsed?  Yes, it is just theoretical...but you REALLY touched on a point that I find INCREDIBLY interesting, LSG!

...Perhaps another way of looking at it is best exemplified by Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle which states "that the more precisely the position of some particle is determined, the less precisely its momentum can be known, and vice versa."  So you can know one WITH CERTAINTY but NOT the other one WITH CERTAINTY.  So, AGAIN, maybe an Aethan's strong attachment to the Aether/Force allows them to do just that.  Anyhow, just a thought  ;)

And--again--I would love to see a Children/Mak'Tor crossover event  :D

Up until this year, I didn't really know what the theory of the multiverse was. I'd heard of it (being a Marvel and DC fan), but I didn't (and still don't) understand the whole "every choice" thing. But it has interested me since I heard about it. I know it is just theoretical (at best), but it is still interesting to think about. I hadn't made the connection until I read what you wrote here, but I can see it now. And the thought that an Aethan could potentially be powerful enough to see these different dimensions is. . . strange.

Yeah, and Children/Mak'Tor even would be neat to see. ;D

Interlude-
Sith Savior

Silently, the Rygillian freighter sped through the hyperspace tunnel en route to M’Tzingon. 

The exposed pipes, circuitry, and stanchion followed the corridor around the freighter’s inner hull, leading to one of the lounge areas in the interior of the ship.  Light laughter filled the air as the current tenants joked and relaxed during the hyperspace journey.  Within the empty cockpit, the hyperspace tunnel filled the canopy, the blue-shift of the light casting a cool, yet comforting hue about the interior.  Just past the lounge area was a series of double-capacity bunk rooms, necessary given the distance between Zonama Sekot and M’Tzingon and the freighter’s middling Class 4 Hyperdrive.

However, just down the hall from the crew quarters was a hidden brig, currently boarding a single occupant.  Given how dangerous the occupant was, she had been securely restrained, confined to a sleeper table, and gagged.  And as an extra measure, she was currently in a chemically induced coma.  The crew had been warned concerning her abilities and had prepared accordingly.  And now that they’d reached the mid-transit point, they began to relax their constant vigil.

Again, laughter filled the air of the lounge area.

“No, seriously!  I was there during Zearic’s first test for Water Warrior.” Koawan Maison’s voice followed.  “Nexu Master Torsin was personally overseeing the Trials and decided to question him at the conclusion of the usual combat test.  I didn’t know why at the time but it was extremely unorthodox.  Anyway, Master Torsin calls Zearic up,” Maison’s voice became lighter in imitation, “‘Maenowan Zearic, a Water Warrior must be courageous at all times.  How would you define courage?’  Zearic looks straight at him and says,” this time, Maison’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, “‘This is.’  And he walks away from the Nexu Council!”

Appreciative laughter followed Maison’s pitch-perfect impressions.  Sitting across from him, his apprentice Teidowan Viri’s head-tentacles dangled freely, the Twi’Lek reclining on one of the water-couches.  Between laughing and drinking, she made another move on the holochess board.  “Check.”  She smiled at her opponent.

Across from her, a small human man scowled at the board.  “Damn.”  Even his expletive was said in an almost monotone voice.  Next to him, a large, blond woman with closely cropped hair slapped his shoulder.

“Told you Parek!  You should have seen that Knight-sac that Viri pulled but you were too focused on your Queen.”  Arilia’s jovial attitude made everyone feel at ease, her intimidating physique a strict contrast to her partner’s small, delicate frame.  Still, both of the Mak’Tor jedi had about them their three lightsabers, even now.

Smiling broadly, Arilia looked at Maison.  “So…do you know Maenowan Zearic and Lady D’Aylanna well?  They were nice enough to have us over for dinner at their home on Sekot.”  Seeing that her cup was empty, Arilia went to refill it.  “And their…daughter(?), Jorya was it?  Nice girl, if a bit impetuous.”  She sat down next to Maison.

He shook his head.  “No, Ari, not at all.  They’re more…acquaintances than friends.  Still: nice people.”  Maison coughed.  “I actually wanted to ask you about Master Karmack.  Is it true that he’s one of the first Master Singers in a generation?  We of the Vhal’Dan Order have never produced a Singer, much less a Sage.”  Leaning back in his chair, Maison drank deeply, never taking his eyes from Arilia.

The big woman was silent for a moment, thoughtful.  “Not only that but he is actually able to hear one of the Mak’Tor’s ancient crystals.  Before him…I think it was Kage Odjina that had claimed that he could hear the Ancient One (that’s what we call it).  But that was…almost half a millennium ago.”  Arilia sighed.  “And our records from that time are…fragmented.”

“Checkmate!” Viri smiled at Parek.  The Silver Knight looked from one end of the board to the next.  But when he looked at the Twi’lek, a small smile played on his lips.

“Nicely done.  Next time I won’t fall for your Knight’s gambit.  Again?”  His eyes shone with held interest, interest that Arilia hadn’t witnessed in her partner since she’d been apprenticed to him.  Good, she thought, Parek deserves happiness after losing his family on Alderaan. 

“…You were saying?  Master Karmack?” Maison’s genial voice prodded.  Arilia smiled at Parek and turned her head to answer.  But she was interrupted before she could talk.

A sudden lurch to the ship caused all four jedi to fall to the floor.  Even stunned, they recovered quickly.  Running to the cockpit, they all strapped into their respective seats.  Realspace greeted them as they searched the cockpit canopy for any clue as to what had caused them to drop out of hyperspace.

“Arilia.  Get on the scanners.  Anything in the vicinity?” Parek’s voice had returned to his usual monotone.  As Arilia checked the various instrumentation, Maison and Viri tried to get any visuals that might help.

“…By the Maker…” Arilia’s tone was tight.  “Parek, it’s an Imperial Interdictor cruiser.”

All four jedi exchanged knowing looks.  Much smaller than a Star Destroyer, the Inderdictor was still fifteen times larger than their freighter, to say nothing of being outclassed offensively.  And, with the four gravity-well projectors, escaping to hyperspace was impossible.

“Arilia, power up the quads.  Viri, Maison: head to the polar gun ports.  We need to knock out the projectors.”

But even before the Vhal’Dan jedi had unbuckled their belts, their freighter faltered again, harder this time.

“Tractor beam has a lock on us.” Arilia’s voice was quiet, terse.  “They’re drawing us in.”

None of the jedi wasted time.  They all withdrew from the cockpit, the Vhal’Dan jedi grabbing their lightsabers.  Heading to the brig, they opened the door.  The Night Sister was awake, her eyes glaring hate and amusement.  After checking Jennira’s restraints, Arilia filled both of her hands with her lightsabers.

By that time, their freighter had been drawn into the Interdictor’s primary launch bay.  As the sound of docking clamps reverberated through the hull, the four Gray jedi had taken up defensible positions.  Collectively, they were ready.

As anticipation began to build, the sounds from the Imperial boarding party came from the main hatch as they attempted to breach the ship.  Suddenly, a loud report vibrated throughout the ship, indicative that the Imperials had gained entry. 

One and all, the Gray jedi had surrounded themselves in the Force.  They sensed almost two-dozen life forms as they fanned out within the interior of the ship.  And while they could detect the concise intent from the Imperials, there was something…unusual about them.  Then, the boarders were upon them.

Even prepared, the barrage of blaster fire had each of the jedi working hard in their defense/deflect patterns.  Arilia noticed first that their opponents were not stormtroopers.  They had the red splint armor of Sith-Shadows.  But even as she noticed, she was too busy defending herself.

The jedi were good; they worked collectively defending themselves and each other.  Even as two-dozen Sith-Shadows converged upon their position, their blaster fire was funneled through the corridor, effectively limiting the range of incoming fire.  However, the sheer volume of blaster fire had the jedi too occupied to do much else.

And it was because of this that none of the jedi noticed the subtle Song that began to fill the ship.  At first, it seemed that the Sith-Shadows had reduced their blaster fire.  But as fewer blaster bolts were coming from the Sith-Shadows, the strength of the Song increased exponentially.

All of the Gray jedi were now aware of a Dark Singer and were attempting to fight against the incoming Song…but something was wrong.  The Song was…too potent…to powerful.  Trying to stave off the effects, all four of the Gray jedi were nevertheless becoming lethargic.  Shaking their heads in an attempt to clear them, they were succumbing even as they fought.

Coming into view, a tall Zabrak appeared around the corridor bend.  In his left hand, he carried a saberstaff.  Arilia noticed immediately that his right arm was a cybernetic replacement.  And, looking closer, she noticed that his saberstaff’s blades were an almost…pulsating crimson, the red seemed to beat in harmony with the Song’s cadence.

!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!

Arilia felt as if she were looking through water…her lightsabers began to sink… Slowly turning her head, she saw that her comrades were doing likewise, although Parek kept shaking his head… It was then that she saw that Viri lay on the floor, a circular burn in the middle of her forehead where one of the Sith-Shadows had shot her.

!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!


Parek… Parek!  Arilia felt as if she were crawling through mud, that her head was at a different altitude.  Maison had completely dropped his lightsabers, his hands gripping his head as blood began to drip from his mouth.  PAREK! 

!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!


Raising her lightsabers she confronted the Zabrak.  Still Singing, he flung his palm up towards her.  Too slow to react, his Force push hit her squarely, knocking the air from her lungs as she simultaneously hit the bulkhead.  All her defenses dropped as her mental faculties were assaulted and thwarted by the Zabrak’s Song.  Feeling firm pressure on her entire body as if held in place by a wall, a very small part of her could record her surroundings even as she was unable to do anything about it.

!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!....!

Parek had managed to hold off against the Song.  A Jar’Kai practitioner, he held both of his lightsabers at the ready, green and teal blades casting pallor on his sickly face.  The Zabrak approached Parek, saberstaff spinning while he Sang.  And, as he struck, his voice hit a crescendo, the blades of his staff strobing in time as each chord he Sang flowed over, around, and through.  Parek’s defense was solid enough to deflect several of the Zabrak’s lightning-quick attacks but each time seemed to drain him a little more.  And each time the Zabrak struck, his voice was a little stronger, his movements a little faster.

Still unable to act, Arilia saw as the Zabrak did a flourish of spins incorporating ever-faster attacks.  Determined, Parek kept his blades between him and his opponent.  But the Zabrak was too quick, too powerful.  One of the blades of his saberstaff arched through its spin and up, bisecting Parek’s right arm first then his left at the wrist on his return spin.  Upon recovery, the Zabrak stabbed down through Parek’s leg, dropping him to the deck.  When Arilia was sure that he would kill him, the Zabrak slowly lowered his staff, although he did not extinguish the blades.

Singing softly, he approached Maison first.  The young koawan still had his hands to his head, a grimace of pain was etched upon his entire face.  The Zabrak put his left hand to Maison’s head, index and middle fingers touching him.  Closing his eyes, the Zabrak’s Song grew…more intense, his saberstaff’s blades pulsed in time.  After a moment, the Zabrak’s face relaxed and he shook his head.

Without warning, he swung his saberstaff in a vicious arc, instantly killing Maison.  Arilia tried to turn her head away but her body wouldn’t respond.  Instead, her eyes followed as he approached her.  The pressure upon her body lessened but did not completely relent: she still could not raise her arms nor move her legs.  As the Zabrak stood in front of her, he made the same finger gesture to her forehead.

Immediately, she felt as if her thoughts were being…dragged to the forefront, specifically the scene concerning her time around the witch.  …The Night Sister’s prison and bonds are keyed to open with only Knight Arilia’s or my genetic code.  No other person may touch them, otherwise a lockdown is initiated instantly…

Smiling, the Zabrak stood and walked into the brig.  “Come.”  His voice, like bones being ground under foot, Commanded.  Arilia’s body moved, seemingly of its own accord.  A small part of her attempted to stop but it was as if she were a child attempting to lift a building.  The Song had penetrated her defenses and it flowed through and around her.  Standing by the Night Sister’s sleeper table, he looked directly at Arilia.  “Remove her gag.”  His saberstaff’s blades steadily pulsated, each time in tune with the cadence of the Zabrak’s Singing.

Arilia felt her body move, mechanically releasing the strap that held the gag in place once it recognized her DNA.  Once free, the Night Sister worked her jaw silently, smiling to the Zabrak.  “Mellichae.”  Her voice croaked.  She coughed a few times and the next time she spoke her voice was much clearer.  “Release my bonds.”  Echoing through Arilia’s head, Jennira’s voice pervaded every cell of her brain, the Zabrak’s blades strobing in time as she heard the Night Sister Sing.  Arilia was once again a passenger in her own body while she saw her hands work the restraints binding the witch to the sleeper table.

Once free, the Zabrak offered his hand to the Night Sister, helping her stand from the table.  Holding her steadily, Jennira looked over at Parek.  The small koawan was sweating profusely while he desperately tried to fight as his body went into shock.  Smiling ferally, she grabbed Mellichae’s saberstaff and sauntered over to Parek.  “You have some skill with Singing.  I offer you a chance and only once.  Join me.”

Parek looked directly into the witch’s eyes.  “Go to hell.”  Jennira smiled and, in a flurry of movement, brought down the red blade in a savage cut.  Again, Arilia would have looked away…if she could.

“What should we do about her, Domina?” Mellichae’s bass voice echoed in the corridor as he gestured towards Arilia.

“I have an idea, Coniux.  But first...I have a score to settle against that Togruta pfassk.” Jennira’s face grimaced.  “She deserves death and more.”

“No.”  Mellichae’s voice boomed.

Completely shocked, the Night Sister almost screamed in outrage.  “NO?!  How...dare you defy me, your Domina!”  She moved as if to brush past the large Zabrak but he grabbed her upper arm.

“No.  You cannot have the Togruta.  My Master has commanded it.”  His icy blue eyes were unblinking.

Incensed, the Night Sister attempted to pull away.  But it was an exercise in futility.  “I am your Domina...!”  But even as she protested, Mellichae’s voice was quadranium.

“Yes.  You are my Domina.  But Darth Mendax is my Master.  And yours.” His tone broached no arguement, his hand a vice upon her arm.  Slowly, as she stared into his eyes, she saw the absolute truth to his words.  And, as silent witness, Arilia stood unable even to speak.

“...But...how...?” The Night Sister’s voice was soft, tentative.

“Darth Mendax is powerful.  I was able to find you because my Master knew where you would be.  Domina.”  Mellichae’s gaze never wavered.

“How did...our Master...find me?” Jennira had regained some of her poise.

“My Master told me it was no secret.  The ancient Sith art of Qâzoi Kyantuska.”

Jennira’s pale face blanched.  Qâzoi Kyantuska.  Sith mind control.  To the uninitiated, it was a cudgel; to a Sith Master, it was a tool with surgical precision.  It was said that the masters could use it to not only read minds but even locate a specific mind throughout the galaxy.  “But…how could…our Master have done this?  I would know…”

Mellichae shook his head.  “No, Domina.  You would not.  Just as I did not.  Until our Master called upon me.  Any mind you’ve touched, our Master has access to.  So I—like you—am tethered to Darth Mendax.”

Jennira was silent for a moment but she knew that her Coniux—her consort—would not lie to her.  “What is our Master’s will?”

Mellichae gave a small nod.  “We must work on the Pontite we’ve mined.  And—” he held up his saberstaff, “—we must make more of these: Vitreous sabers.  I was able to collect what was left of the crystalline-lattice from the Canticum Lowlands for this weapon.”

The Night Sister looked at the Zabrak’s saberstaff.  Still ignited, she noticed the slow, almost imperceptible pulse of the blades.  “...You mean...”

Mellichae smiled.  “Yes.  To any normal Force-sensitive, this is merely a sword.  For a Singer...it is an amplifier.  Not as powerful as the crystalline-lattice but still potent.”  Looking past Jennira, the Zabrak’s eyes fell upon Arilia.  “That is how my Song was able to penetrate your defenses so thoroughly.  And that is how my Domina will exact her revenge upon you.”  And, handing Jennira his saberstaff, he walked out of the brig.

The Night Sister’s face exulted as she stared at Arilia.  “Oh yes...I will have my revenge upon you...since I cannot—yet—seek reprisal upon that Togruta.  And her father.”  Slowly, the witch’s face became morose.  “But, for now, you’ll do.”

OUCH that's gonna leave a mark!.  Don't mess with Darth Mendax...strong powers to detect not just where someone is but where they are going to be through hyperspace to know where to interdict them...Seems to be a lot of messing with peoples minds going on...Mellichae must be a mess internally with Mendax and presumably Jennira both in his head in different ways...sort of represents with his sheer brutality and single minded ness...or at least that's the impression I get. Zearic is going to regret his mercy...

LSG you hit upon a pont that I wanted to make: mercy to the wrong people can have...consequences  ;). Good catch!

And you are implicitly correct: between the two, Mellichae's a man driven...just not always by what he thinks  ;D

Mercy can be hard that way.  There has to be wisdom driving when and where to show it.  In this case...

Well.  I guess we'll see.  :-)

Overall I like this interlude!  This new Darth is ... scary.  Very scary.

Sunlight

The sky was brilliant blue, the clouds sparse and puffy.  Green and brown trees were everywhere, hemming in the horizon.  Large ferns and other plants were also in evidence, cutting down local visibility as well.  You'd barely be able to tell there'd ever been a battle here at all...

Except for the Scar...

The burned-out wreck of the Imperial shield generator and attached support base was becoming overgrown now.  The forest labored mightily to hide and overcome the black wreckage and bare earth of the crater.  Still, it was early in the process and the open wound remained.  Karl bumped his cybernetic eye up to zoom, studying the ground carefully.  Something had caught his eye.  Some movement...

There...  He spotted it again, a tawny gold head virtually glowing in the sun.  Seems tall for an Ewok...

He nearly gasped in surprise when the figure turned, revealing a human face.

A female human face.

A gorgeous female human face.

"Well, aren't you the pretty one..." Karl muttered under his breath.  He zoomed in further, taking in every curve and feature.  Oh yes, definitely a beauty.  Dressed in black and red, with a cruel pout on her face, but still extremely attractive.

Karl dialed the magnification back and grinned.  Maybe this trip would yield something a bit more profitable than scrap metal and half-fried electronics after all....

************

Julwynn shuddered slightly as the feeling overcame her again.  I am being watched...   She stopped and scanned the area.  Nothing.  She intensified her song, pushed harder with the Force, and widened the area she was covering with the Siren.  Within minutes a half-dozen more of the damnable Ewoks stumbled out of the brush, eyes glazed over, answering the call.  A skittish Yuzzum joined them.  With a wave of her hand she put them to sleep, letting them roll down the hill to lay next to the Gorax and half-dozen other Ewoks the earlier Siren had called in.

There, you see?  Just more Ewoks.  Nothing to fear...  
Sunlight

The sky was brilliant blue, the clouds sparse and puffy.  Green and brown trees were everywhere, hemming in the horizon.  Large ferns and other plants were also in evidence, cutting down local visibility as well.  You'd barely be able to tell there'd ever been a battle here at all...

Except for the Scar...

The burned-out wreck of the Imperial shield generator and attached support base was becoming overgrown now.  The forest labored mightily to hide and overcome the black wreckage and bare earth of the crater.  Still, it was early in the process and the open wound remained.  Karl bumped his cybernetic eye up to zoom, studying the ground carefully.  Something had caught his eye.  Some movement...

There...  He spotted it again, a tawny gold head virtually glowing in the sun.  Seems tall for an Ewok...

He nearly gasped in surprise when the figure turned, revealing a human face.

A female human face.

A gorgeous female human face.

"Well, aren't you the pretty one..." Karl muttered under his breath.  He zoomed in further, taking in every curve and feature.  Oh yes, definitely a beauty.  Dressed in black and red, with a cruel pout on her face, but still extremely attractive.

Karl dialed the magnification back and grinned.  Maybe this trip would yield something a bit more profitable than scrap metal and half-fried electronics after all....

************

Julwynn shuddered slightly as the feeling overcame her again.  I am being watched...   She stopped and scanned the area.  Nothing.  She intensified her song, pushed harder with the Force, and widened the area she was covering with the Siren.  Within minutes a half-dozen more of the damnable Ewoks stumbled out of the brush, eyes glazed over, answering the call.  A skittish Yuzzum joined them.  With a wave of her hand she put them to sleep, letting them roll down the hill to lay next to the Gorax and half-dozen other Ewoks the earlier Siren had called in.

There, you see?  Just more Ewoks.  Nothing to fear...  

But the feeling remained.

************

Kohl moved carefully down the slope into the crater.  He wasn't sure why this woman was here, apparently alone, but something about her demeanor and carriage just read "dangerous" to him.  Perversely, it only made her more attractive - and valuable - to him.  The hard part would be capturing her alive and undamaged.  

With the good ones, that was always the trick.

Kohl was nearly in place when additional movement registered in the underbrush.  He'd been amazed to see Ewoks tromping down the slope earlier.  One had passed within feet of him.  He'd never even known the little guy was there, until he'd suddenly just stood up and started walking down the hill.  Where he'd ended up Kohl had not seen, but it had struck him as strange.

Another point in the golden-haired lass' favor...

Kohl hunkered down and waited.  He was a long-time hunter and patience was an old friend.  Better to remain undetected and let a prize - even one this ... interesting - escape than to be detected and perhaps damaged.  Waiting was never a problem, and had saved his skin more times than he could tell.

As it was, he didn't need to wait long.  Two more black-clad figures emerged from the greenery and approached the woman.  Something ... odd ... stirred within him.  She was a prize, a potential payday.  Nothing more.  Right.

Watch yourself, lass...

************

Julwynn rose slowly, flexing her hands.  The two Zabrak males - twins, if she was correct - pulsed with the drumbeat of Sith.  Drums suddenly so powerful that their beat flooded through her, overpowering her connection to the song.  With a gasp she sank to her knees, hands moving instinctively to her ears, trying to cover them, drown out the sound...  "What....   What are you?"

"Our Master Lord Mendax sends his greetings.  Your services are ... required."  The leader, on the right, growled.  "You will come with us.  Now."

With a snap and hiss a pair of red blades were ignited.  Julwynn reached out, trying to find her allies, her mates...  Nothing.  Everything was blanked out.  She tried to send the Siren, draw everyone back to herself...  Laughing.  They're laughing....

"Your ... songs ... will not help you, witch!  Lord Mendax has blinded us to their power.  And he gave us these."  He held up an odd-shaped, orange ball.  "Through this our Lord has focused his power and is dampening your powers.  You are helpless to stop us."  The grin turned cruel, lecherous.  "He demands you be returned to him alive.  How ... uncomfortable ... the trip is, however, is entirely up to you."

Julwynn felt a stab of fear.  Real fear.  Desperately she reached out with the force, attempting to draw her staff to her hand.  Nothing.  With a scream she reached again for the song, for Siren or Sleep or Obey.  Nothing.

Nothing....

The grins widened.  "So, witch.  What is your cho...URK!"

Julwynn gasped in shock and surprise as the Zabrak's head exploded.  A second heavy blaster bolt took the second Zabrak at the base of the neck, blowing his chest open and sending the severed head high into the air in a fountain of blood.  Desperately she scrabbled forward, reaching for the orb they had carried...

"Drop it, lass."

Her hand was almost touching it...  Julwynn cursed under her breath.  The heavy blaster rifle was only a couple of feet from her face.  The man behind it was ... impressive.  She wiped blood from her face and calmed herself, regarding her earst-while savior.  He was wearing Mandalorian armor, out of date, but still effective.  In place of the full helmet, however, he wore an odd head-band which provided him with sensor inputs and a strange monacle...

No.  It was a prosthesis.  The sensors fed it, but it was integrated into this eye socket.  Enhanced imaging, then.  I was being watched...  "Thank you, Mr...?"

*********************

Kohl suppressed a grin.  "Kohl.  Balnad Kohl.  I've been hunting these two for a while.  What's their interest in you?"  

It was a lie, but sometimes the oddest things shook loose with a little ... idle chatter.

"I have no idea...  Apparently they felt I'd be ... valuable." The blonde responded.  

Predictable, but smooth.  Kohl had to give her marks for keeping her cool.  "And what's this?"  He indicated the small, oddly-glowing sphere.

"I... have no idea."

Something in her hesitation triggered Kohl's survival instinct.  Almost without thought he dropped the muzzle of his blaster and fired.

Orange lightning erupted from the sphere as the blaster bolt tore it apart.  Kohl found himself tossed backwards into the brush, dazed.  Laughter rang in his ears.

Now what could she find do dingle funny in this?

*******************

Julwynn cackled with glee even as she catapulted through the air.  She reached out with the force and somersaulted, bringing herself down gently several meters away from Kohl.  "Now you're mine...."  Nothing fancy to start: She gathered the force and gave a push.  Start with a good solid punch....

Kohl rocked slightly as the force energy tugged at his gear, but the energy just passed right through him.  "C'mon Lass, lets be reasonable now...."

With a shreak Julwynn began hurling rocks and sticks and even dust at him.  His armor threw a breather mask over his nose and mouth and a clear shield slid out in front of his eyes, but Kohl otherwise ignored it.  He appeared ... stunned.  Enraptured.

It only made her more furious.

With a low, dangerous growl Julwynn reached for a song. Pain.  Panic.  Fear.  Terror.  One by one she threw them at Kohl, all while maintaining a whirlwind barrage of particles.  Other than an occasional dodge, the man didn't move.  He just kept looking at her.

Dark brown eyes.  Staring...  Looking...  Studying...  Appreciating...

Enraptured...

Nothing worked.  Julwynn was again feeling panic.  Nothing was working!  Nothing in the force, no song, nothing!

The pain came as a complete surprise, as did the roar.  Gorax...it woke up...  Julwynn went down, the gorax, awakened and infuriated by the songs she had hurled at Kohl, towering over her.  The gorax roarded, reared...  

A fury of red filled her vision

- BLACK -

**************

Kohl watched as the woman's eyes fluttered open.  "Welcome back, lass."

He watched as a first wave of panic flickered over her face.  The drugs were still heavy in her system, and it took time for her strange surroundings to register.  Next should be...  Wait for it...

Again his patience was rewarded as, after nearly thirty seconds, it registered that she wasn't just in a strange medical bay.  She was also, beneath a very soft and warm blanket, completely nude.

This time her eyes grew very wide.  She seemed to snarl and her hand came up, making a throwing motion...  And again, an odd tugging passed over him, but nothing else happened.  She must think she's a Jedi or something...  The thought made him chuckle.  "You might want to give it up, lass.  The force doesn't work on me.  Ever.  At all.  Don't know why, just know I've been this way since..."  Kohl broke off.  Memories of Kamino and the War were to painful to revisit.  

Especially those memories...

He saw her relax, a strange look on her face.  Again, he felt a strange brush, like a slight breeze passing over his skin as his shirt rippled.  The force, apparently.  But like before it did nothing to him.  Her look changed from panic to wonder.  He grinned down at her.  "You see lass?  Nothing.  So...   What are we to be calling you?"

Her eyes, pale and beautiful, darted to his.  There was still anger, defiance, fury, fear...  But now also something else.  Wonder.  Kindness.  Even ... respect?  "What has become of my Clansmen?"

"That brood?  Ach..."  He grinned wider.  "They're huntin' for ya.  We can go get them soon, those wounds just need a bit more bacta treatement before we let you up.  But its getting awkward calling you 'lass'.  You have my name.  What am I to be calling you?"

Kohl let his grin widen as she made her decision and spoke.  "Julwynn."

"Well, now.  Its nice to be meeting you, Julwynn."  He said, and offered her his hand.

With a sudden smile like the rising sun, Julwynn placed her delicate hand into the massive paw.  "So it is, Balnad.  So it is."

So...the other Night Sister is a fugitive!  And Lord Mendax is actively looking for her.  I would NOT wan to be in her shoes (although, technically, after Kohl rescued her, she's not wearing shoes...or much else  ;)).  I really like that we got more of a glimpse from a Singer's perspective: the various Song elements.  Brilliant  :D

A man that is UNaffected by the Force?!  I LIKE this development!  Julwynn's Song will have no effect whatsoever... Perfect Karm.

Just wondering: where is Julwynn's chattel-brood?  Those Zabrak twins were too close at capturing her...

Great Interlude!  Can't wait for more!

These questions ... might be answered soon.  ;-)

LOL  Seriously, because I MEANT to include it in the interlude and forgot along the way...  This happens in the past, before they abandon their lair on the planet.  The rest of her Warren-Clan were scattered out recovering crystals from the planet.  Specifically, some of them are the very crystals that were recovered from the lunar base hideout.

More coming.  Endor will be ...

:-)

Good to see a 'villain' character get more humanised, clearly a lot is going on and obviously not much love between former allies.
Also loved the idea of force drunk ewoks roaming about! Elicits some sympathy for Julwyyn, not only is her erstwhile ally(?) after her, but she's encountered someone all her powers are useless against, perhaps she's not the bad guy Karmack and co. think she is?

PS I think auto correct turned Kohl into Karl at the start of the chapter!

Every Warrior Dies Alone

He contemplated that as he moved from cover to cover, splashing in the swampy mud dodging red blasts.

He slammed his side into a ferrocrete partition beside another member of his squad.  His armour was scuffed, dented and dirty.  He flipped his blaster over top and used his powers to guide his blind shots, he fired and felt the death follow.  The soldier beside him peeked over and wasn’t so lucky, he took a blaster bolt to the face and flopped down dead, sinking slowly into the mud.

Every warrior dies alone. 

Even that one right beside him…when you get hit by a blaster, or run through with a sword…doesn’t matter how big your squad is, no one else can take that hit, you can’t share the trauma…you’re alone on the battlefield, no one can take your death for you.

He pushed out and in a crouch run pushed forward firing to cover himself.  Grenades landed behind him, detonating to send churned dirt and broken plants into the air and onto his head.   

An enemy peeked out from behind a wall, he pivoted his rifle, still firing and clipped his arm before diving forward into the muck behind a wrecked rusting speeder.  It had been overturned and was slowly sinking, the prone form of the pilot was an arm’s length from him, the face a pallid white, death and the water draining the heat from it rapidly.  He had been a good pilot, they’d flown together before, but just that one shot, and he died alone.

He could sense the flow of the battle through the muddy waters…every one of them was alone, each fighting for their own survival…that was what it came down to… not the credits, not the cause…in the heat of battle you were fighting for next second of life and nothing else…and if you died, you died alone.

He peeked out to the side and put a round through a crouching enemy…he felt his squad slowly moving up behind him…there were no allies really, just enemies who for the moment weren’t shooting at you, or perhaps they were just moving pieces of terrain.

A click in his helmet comm, he turned and gestured two fingers to the left, there to the right, they signalled back and move as instructed.  Like a school of aquatic animals, they might move as one for protection of the group, but each was caught by a predator individually and died alone.

He leapt out from cover and unleashed a hail of covering fire to his left as his squad moved into position.  There were not many opponents lefts now. 

He charged forward again each boot sinking into the mud, it should’ve slowed him more but the power he could draw upon kept him balanced and quick. 

It was the dying moments now as he picked off another enemy between the bulbous eyes.  This was the most dangerous part, the defeated might let loose with random acts of deadly fury, or turn and run.

The troops on the right were in position, they were caught in overlapping fields of fire, a grenade sailed straight for him, he sent it straight back inverting its velocity with a thought.

The explosion rippled into front of him, dirt, blood and limbs dropped around its centre.

They broke, tried to flee, all except one who yelled in a guttural tongue, pinned by fire behind a makeshift barricade he kept firing off pistol shots.  The last enemy saw him coming and fired, but he dodged then leapt up over the barricade, slamming down hard into the mud, he was a tough one and had dodged well…driven by the desire to live his enemy was granted speed and strength in these last moments.

He recovered from his landing and grappled with the large enemy, he was a brute, but surprisingly quick for his size.  Blogs of watery mud splashed up as they threw heavy punches weighed down by the mud and gore caked on their armour.  He took a blow to the chest, one to the right shoulder, a headbutt and an elbow to the ribs.  He returned a palm to the face, two jabs to the sternum, and a knee to the gut.  His opponent was weary and threw a stretched mid punch, he pivoted and caught the arm in one had, with the other he pushed into the outstretched elbow and snapped it. 

His enemy crumpled. But didn’t surrender, he kept throwing desperate punches with his other arm, in return he cracked down on his spine, ripped off his helmet and pushed him into the mud. The gurgling and thrashing seemed to last an hour before he finally suffocated in the blood tinged swamp.  He was the last enemy there, the others had been killed or fled…he had fought well but died alone.
*******************************************************************************************************
He walked around the battlefield collecting the bodies as the transport ships ferried the liberated slaves away, some came and dropped to their knees in the mud to thank him - the nominal cause for the fighting…forgotten completely while the battle was actually being fought.

He finally came to the last enemy, his drowned form no longer made any ripples in the muddy water.  One day…he knew that would be him…on some planet, for some forgotten cause he too would die alone.

Wow, LGS.  All I can say right now is...  I really feel sorry for him.  :-/

I'm reminded of a song from the 70s by Wishbone Ash:

"Throw down the sword/the fight is done and over/neither lost, neither won/To cast away the fury of the battle/and turn my weary eyes for home.

THIS Interlude has THAT feeling.  OR the "death poems" of samurai. 

You have a poet's soul LSG  :)

The landing had been a bit rough, due to the denseness of the forest, but like always, my expert skills as a pilot shine through successfully, and I eventually make a landing. Flying a YT-2400 freighter has its advantages, but sometimes those advantages can be disadvantages. This was one of those times. The size of the ship makes it hard to find landing zones at times. Belassar is a new planet to me. I have never been here before so I don’t know what to expect, though it looks like a cooler planet with lots of snow, as well as dense forests. I know Jord is expecting Rowahn, but he isn’t coming. At least not for a while. I think. Even if he did manage to somehow kill or escape the gorog, it will take him some time to get reoriented. By that time I should be long gone.
   
“Do you have a lock of Jord’s location?” I shout back to the six others in my crew.
   
“Yes, her ship is hidden down on the other side of this valley. We should be able to secure it and plant the tracker fairly quickly, and be back before she finds out should you fail to take her down.” One of the men replied.
   
“Should I fail to take her down? I don’t miss my shots. Now get moving before I miss your heart, and hit your head.” I say, my voice fringed with anger.
   
Removing my blaster from its holster, I attach the needed pieces to make the changes into sniper configuration, then stalk off the ship. I don’t have an exact location on Jord herself, but she probably is not too far from her ship. With the knowledge of an impending battle, she will want to stay near her means of escape. I could have just destroyed the ship, but if she does indeed prove too powerful, I don’t want to be left here with her when she can easily kill me.
   
After walking for a few minutes, I found a good position where I could observe the ship, and much around it, even if there were trees scattered around everywhere. Scanning the area through the weapon’s scope, I looked for Jord. I could not see her, so I set my sights on the ship itself, acting as overwatch for the crewmen who were replacing the tracking device. This way I was ready to either shoot Jord when she came back, or one or more of the crew should they be captured. They may have been loyal as long as I was paying them, but they were more loyal to their lives than to money. I wouldn’t have hired them if I did not need the extra manpower should I get boarded by pirates. They were pretty good in a fight, but I wouldn’t trust them with my life. Just them my comlink blinked. I had silenced the beeps, so that I would be harder to detect.
   
“Tracker is set. Heading back to the ship to await further orders.” Came the voice over the comlink.
   
I didn’t respond, but the men carefully began heading back. Just then I saw a flicker of movement on the slope above them. Quickly aiming at the area where I had seen it, I waited to see what would happen. A large animal came bounding out, and disappeared into the brush. Just then I heard the sounds of yelling and battle. The animal had distracted me from my men, and Jord had taken advantage of it. Stealing through the woods silently until the men had come upon her, then attacking. Most of them were heading back towards the ship as fast as they could while randomly firing shots off into the forest behind them. However, there were two that were a little farther behind a duros and a human. A stray blaster bolt flew into the duros, and he dropped instantly. The other made it a little farther, but Jord quickly caught up to him. She grabbed him with the Force, and threw him into a tree. Or at least that I what I assume happened. He randomly lifted up and hit a tree, though I hadn’t seen Jord do anything differently. The other men were quite a ways ahead of her now, and I had a fairly clear shot at Jord. Aiming just ahead of her as she ran, I squeezed the trigger and fired. The blast somehow just missed her head. However, this made her take cover, and move from tree to tree.
   
She had moved a few times before I realized that she was now heading back towards the injured man. She couldn’t reach him in time though. My shot flew true, right through his heart. I again waited for her to come out in the open, but I could no longer see her. I scanned the area, but saw no sign of her. Quickly readjusting my aim back towards her shuttle, I saw the landing ramp begin to close. How did she get there so quickly without my seeing her? I wondered as I watched her lift off. Before I could do anything else, she was headed back out towards space.
   
He couldn’t do anything now except hope that his men had successfully installed the new tracker. As he was heading back to his ship his comlink lit up.
   
“Sir, there is an incoming transmission for you.” The man said on the other side.
   
“Alright, I’ll be there shortly. Heading down the slope, I reached the bodies of the two crewman. The duros was dying, but not dead yet. Picking up his blaster, I shot him through the head. He had failed me, as had the other human. Their equipment was too useful to leave lying around though. Gathering everything the two men had, I headed back to the ship as quickly as I could.
   
I arrived a few minutes later, and after answering the transmission, I saw a very annoyed woman. This made me smile inwardly, though I didn’t show it, because the woman was the High Inquisitor Gaetana. “What can I do for you, Inquisitor?” I asked in a smooth voice as I ran my hand through my dark violet hair.
   
“There have been some . . . old acquaintances searching for me for the past few weeks. I’d like you to deliver a message to them for me. Tell them . . .” then apparently changing her mind she asked, “where are you right now?” 
   
“I am on the planet Belassar. Is there something that you need?” I returned.
   
“Hmm . . . that will work well. I would like you to inform them that you have some information about me that they might be interested in, then set a trap for them there.”
   
“I believe that can be arranged.” I said, then shut off the transmission.

So now you have read an interlude from Ethan's POV, and one from Caedon's POV. I have one more that I need to do, but it could easily be from either. Who would you guys like to see another one from right now?

That.

Was.

BADASS!

Caedon is one icy SOB!  Business in front, murder in the back  ;). Once again, you've done a tonal shift; definitely a different voice for him than either Ethan and Rowahn.  I can almost see him weighing in his mind the amount of credits versus expenses for losses (and underlings' failures  ;)).  Good scenery shift: snow-covered pine forests make for excellent imagery and setting. 

I have to admit that I am vacillating between Ethan and Caedon for POV... BUT if I absolutely HAD to pick one: Caedon. 

Nice easter egg!  We haven't seen Gaetana in awhile.  I really want to know more about THAT meeting and subsequent plans against her "old acquaintances"  ;)

As always, your action is enthralling, pulls me right in.  I feel like I am running in that Forest, blaster shots burning through the air.  Awesome visuals TR.  Can't wait for more!

Caedon certainly has the feel of a more true Sith in the Vader mould, killing off anyone who fails him, happy to eliminate underling rather than allow their capture, but still all business and so detached -  would definitely like to hear more of his POV.

I agree with LSG, Caedon really fits the Sith mold.  :-)  Honestly, though, I cannot say which I'd like to hear more from.  Both are interesting and compelling characters.

Loved the interlude.  And I am intrigued...   Old friends?  Hmm......

The concept of theft, the philosophy of it was interesting…it started with the concept of ownership.  To steal was to take ownership of something someone else claimed ownership of…but what was it to own something…

Everything came from nature in the end, when the first sentients made tools did they not steal them from the plants and rocks, did they pay for it?  Did they offer compensation when they mined and farmed to the planets they abused?  Did not the predator take the flesh of the prey, was that theft, certainly no prey would willingly give its flesh in trade. 

Why now on these worlds ask for forgiveness or to repay the environment from what had been taken…civilization had never asked before. It just took.

It was a law of nature, it had no moral dimension, to take that which was there…even the simplest prokaryote did that with no regards to who else might own or possess an errant protein.

He should write a book on that one day.  He thought of opening a text application to start…ah but where would it finish, what could it tell that people didn’t already know in their hearts to be true. 

He went back to his main task, before him a wall of blue lit screens filled with the code and rules that made Coruscant Savings and Loans run. The formula’s of an organization that could make or break a life by approving or rejecting a loan or payment extension stood before him…implacable logic of virtual intelligences that assessed a man’s worth by his capacity to repay…all just theft by another name.

“That one,” his companion pointed,

He nodded,

“should work…I’ll check how much…”  he input a few parameters into a search function, transaction size 50,000 credits plus, transaction timing within 6 hours, COUNT….a thin white circle spun, then the result, 22 million transactions a day, processing fee 3 credits appeared on the centre screen.  A small price for a fast secure payment. 

“Make it 5,” his companion ordered,

He plugged in the smallest of changes a 3 to a 5, then adjusted the fee collection schedule and it was done.

“urrgggh”  in the corner the President of Courascant Savings and Loans was stirring again….his companion flicked a glance at him sending him back to sleep.  For the President this was all just a strange dream in which he and two strange furry animals had gotten up at midnight, gone into the office, used the biometric scanner to access to computer core, then he would awake back in his own apartment and think nothing of it.

Meanwhile hidden in the depths of the automatic systems, every day small fees would be charged and increased for different transactions, 1 credit for a loan approval, 2 for an early repayment and now 2 for a 6 hour transfer of 50,000 plus.  And the extra credits from these increased fees would be siphoned through various accounts to the Indigenous Peoples Habitat Reclamation Charity, of which he and his companion were the sole owners, employees and beneficiaries. 

At this rate they would be reaping 150 million credits a day from 1 or 2 credit fees on the millions of transactions that occurred across Coruscant each day – and that was just from this bank!

They were just taking the fat nature offered, like scavengers taking the leavings on a large kills after the prime predators had left.  It was barely stealing…people willingly paid the fee after all for the service, did it matter it didn’t all go back to the bank…wasn’t their efforts in kidnapping the president worth a good return?

And in the end, who didn’t steal from nature, they were just taking their cut.


He did not want to see the Jedi destroyed, from without or within.  That was why he had to do this…he didn’t want to but it was necessary.

Zhe had been a good Knight, dedicated and obedient to the Council…but over time zher defiance had grown in subtle ways…now he was forced to this.  The Knight he had chosen to bring zher in was little better, everyone could see the armour he wore under his robe, and got a glimpse of the blasters he carried…but his unorthodoxy was in appearance and tools not in philosophy so far as he could tell. 

There was nothing explicitly against wearing armour or using blasters in the Jedi code or ordinances, it was more tradition…he knew if he came down too hard on minor infractions he would create a system so rigid it would snap…this was the first threat that could destroy the Jedi…an unbending discipline that broke its own back. 

Yet this was the path he knew he was treading ever so gradually…it was as he determined the lesser of the two evils.

The second threat was more insidious, more subtle, yet for more dangerous.  To allow deviations, so called ‘progressive’ ideas infiltrate and change the Jedi would cause them to become diluted, their beliefs would become little more than ‘guidelines’, their code a quaint tradition paid only lip service…to stem this kind of pernicious thinking he had exiled the Gray.  Cultural osmosis would turn them into little more than regular citizens with odd power, a talented, but indistinguishable police force. 

Within two or three generations, everything that made them Jedi would be lost.  Accommodation to individual desires and trends of the time would lead to the allowance of relationships and collaborations, creating inevitable conflicts of interest whilst also reducing the pull to side with the Jedi in that event…they would gain some with a more accepting outlook, but over time they would vanish as the distinction between a citizen and a Jedi dwindled to nothing.

And so he had to send this Knight to bring in another…zhe had been sent to investigate and report on the activities of the Sons of Kessel not join them.  Whatever the arguments it was not the Jedi’s place to impose Republic law and morality on non-republic worlds. 

He chuckled, it was ironic, he feared the gradual spread of ideas over time would dilute and destroy the Jedi, yet was banking on such a gradual spread of Republic values into Hutt space and the outer rim to end slavery there.

“You understand,” he said to the Knight, “I want this resolved peacefully if possible…”

The Knight was one of the most intelligent “but…” he replied knowing there was a caveat

“I cannot tolerate two things,” he leaned forward in his council seat, they were the only two in the chamber as the sunset outside casting orange shadows across half their faces “one a rogue Jedi in the Outer rim actively attacking non-Republic assets, and two…”
he paused to consider how best to say this without being explicit about how he really wanted this to end,
“a rogue Jedi within the temple recruiting others to attack non-Republic assets,”

“I see,” the knight said, he could sense little from this knight at the best of times, he nodded, “I’ll take care of it master”, with a brief nod he departed.

It was a fine balancing act, to keep the Jedi between these two fates, breaking and dissolving…but he knew he was the only one who could do it.
*************************************************************************************************************

“You joined zher on the mission?,” a master to the far end asked

“Yes, zhe insisted on going, I had to follow, also I thought perhaps I might get an understanding of what zhe was doing and thus be better informed in how to convince zher to return”

“and how did zhe die?” the master beside him asked

“unfortunately master, it was as simple as a stray blaster bolt during the fighting…”

The master hung his head, “that is unfortunate.”

He didn’t know if that was true or not, the body had been brought back with the blaster wounds, whether it had been simply the battle or the Knight they were now debriefing had had a hand in it would never be known.  He didn’t really care.

“Zhe will be remembered,” he spoke up, “Though we disagreed, zher heart was in the right place, but let this remind us how following our feelings can be so dangerous,”

The masters and the Knight bowed their head in mourning.  He wasn’t happy with the outcome, zhe should never have left, but perhaps zher death would serve as a warning to others to remain within the Jedi, to keep to the path. 

It may be a narrow path, and many needed correction to remain upon it, but he knew it was the right one.

These were awesome. I really liked how you took theft, and made it into something that was not wrong, just something defined by people with a limited world view. That said, I don't condone thievery, still, it was a cool approach to take, and one not seen often.

The Orthodox was a little hard to follow. Not because you didn't explain what was going on, more of because there is more to the story that we do not yet know. Both of these have me intrigued, and I cannot wait to see what is going to come next.

Nice LSG!  I loved the thief.  Force-users using their powers to ... steal.  ON a very GRAND scale!

Hmm.   Did we just uncover the source of the Jedi's operations funds?  :-)

I love your world building.  From seemingly innocuous details as the inclusive pronouns e.g. zhe, zher, to the ruminations of economic philosophy (I am reminded of "correlated--or Nash--eqilibrium" with The Thief). 

Also a nice window into Kimer's mind.  I am reminded of a saying that "Everyone is the hero in their own story."  Kimer's POV is definitely this.  And nice nod to the Mak'Tor Grays  ;)

LSG your writing is superlative.  You keep taking chances and getting the win IMO.  Can't wait for more!

“We often hear, to be able to teach one must be willing to learn, but to learn what exactly,” He asked, before him sat 12 new masters, each having just completed their first year with a padawan

“about our apprentices as people, their strength and weaknesses…by knowing them better we can better guide them,”

“guide them in what way,” he probed

“Well we can help them overcome weaknesses and sharpen strengths to their becoming a Jedi,”

He switched back on the reply “so there is but one way of being a Jedi?  For which some traits are strengths, some weaknesses,”

“I…hadn’t thought of that…”

He smiled widely, “don’t worry, the truth is Jedi come in all shapes and size,” he glanced around the room, “not just in terms of species, but also abilities…you were close in your answer, we must know our apprentices abilities, but no to turn them into ‘clone’ Jedi with the same array of abilities and ideas,” he leaned forward to emphasize his point

“but to discover what unique contributions each may make to the Jedi as a whole, and to learn with them, how those gifts can be expanded and utilized.” 

He went on “In turn, we learn about ourselves, what we can teach best and how this too can be spread to others. We learn that no matching of Master and apprentice is perfect, but each a unique relationship, that changes us both of them…we need to bear in mind we as masters are not static text books from which padawans learn to recite, but living fonts of knowledge and yes foolishness, malleable, changeable.” 

He closed up, “keep this in mind, what you teach today may not be the same lesson you teach on the same topic in a year, or a day, as your experiences change, as you learn, so does what you teach change,” he flicked a glance at the chrono,

“I think that’s enough deep thinking for one day!”
************************************************************************************
His master stood before him, barely half his height, and an eighth his age.  She had shoulder length red hair, green eyes and slightly puffy features that were gradually slimming as she got older.

There were two types of Mastery, or ways of being a master.  The first was in being an expert in a field, possessing abilities or expertise in a technique – this was why this girl was a master to him, ever since he had held her in his arms as a baby she had been full of the force in a way he was not, and desperately wished to learn. 

She moved into a basic Shii-Cho defensive stance and he moved forward with a Makashi combination.

The other sense of being a master was as a guide to another, this did not imply exceptional ability in a subject, but rather the ability to teach and communicate those techniques to another, and perhaps most importantly advice on when to use them. 

She countered quickly but with little enthusiasm, her face was down cast.  Her master hadn’t known what to do with her, and the girl was distraught herself.  Whilst her connection to the force was something he envied, she didn’t have the mastery over herself to control it…a burst of power had left three other padawans injured and he girl afraid of herself.

Her master had tried valiantly to bring her back out of her melancholy, but was wise enough to know when she needed external help, no master was capable to teaching every lesson needed, to recognise this was a part of being a good master.

He continued the basic sets, her parries and blocks were effective, her reflexes unusually quick, but still she wouldn’t draw on the force.  He wondered how far her natural abilities alone could take her.

“I know you’re worried,” he said as he continued the session,

“And that is natural, but you don’t have to be afraid, you’re not going to hurt an old grizzly Rancor like me,” another half-hearted block, something about the fact she could block him without using the force even as he did was interesting.

“How about you teach me how to connect to the force better and I’ll teach you how to control the force better, does that sound fair,” he kept his tone light and friendly

The force about her seemed to lift a little at that idea, he pressed on,

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and I know you don’t want to again, the best way to do that is to master your abilities, not stop using them altogether…it’s like learning to pilot a space ship, the more practice he less likely you are to crash.”

He felt a little light in her as she tentatively touched the force again…well little was relative…even for a knight this would’ve seemed a large pull…yet for her…truly she was the master of the force here…..
************************************************************************************
He arrived early in the council chambers…where ten Masters met to determine the course of the Jedi.  It was an empty room crowded by the past, echoes of arguments, conflicts, and painful choices. 

He took his seat and recalled the day they had debated the Exile of the Mak’Tor…the legacy of that argument seemed embedded in the marble of the chamber.

“We should at least allow the Kage to make his case before us,” he had pleaded,

“There is nothing that Odjina, “ the Grand Master had refused to use his formal title, “has to contribute that you have not already said on his behalf ad nauseam.” 

“For the good of the order this pernicious, unorthodox influence must be expunged,”

Ten masters of the Jedi order had exiled their friends, ten masters bound to all speak with one voice after a decision was reached had stood on the steps behind the Temples guards as the Mak’Tor were pushed out. 

Seven Masters had stared dismissively as the Gray turned and left, Yoren had looked askance at the Coruscant traffic, Gurrlum had stared balefully at the Grand Master….he had met his friend, Kage Odjina’s eyes as he stood behind the raised blades of the Sentinels….he had done all he could short of creating an open schism within the order…As he looked around the empty chamber he wondered whether that had been the right choice….

Ten masters had exiled them for their differing beliefs and practices…what had that taught that and every subsequent generation of Jedi he wondered.

LGS, I really like this entry.  No, not for the Mak'Tor plug.  ;-)

The journey you make is interesting.  Beginning with a lecture about how every padawan is different, how the Jedi grow from the different abilities and strengths of each padawan, to the young, extremely strong girl (of Aethan descent?  Hmm....) who is so strong she is afraid of herself, to the Council - exiling an order of Knights who are just a little different than the "orthodox" Jedi.  And ending with the question: What had that taught the Masters to follow?

Loop back to the first scene - and you get a hint of the answer.  :-)

Very nice, my friend.  Very nice indeed.

I really enjoy this shared continuity; it truly enriches ALL our stories!  It's always a pleasure to see an ester egg as t relates organically to the narrative.  And reading more about the Mak'Tor expulsion...just perfect  ;)

I am thinking that this is the child of Milaea from CotA, absconded with by Kimar...and "raised" by Soryu.  Whom I thought would be the eponymous "Orphan" (nice curve-ball, that LSG).

As Karm stated, the "voice" of this chapter is different, perfect for the POV.  Not to mention a perfect proxy for us: a keen insight as to how the Jedi became so intractable.  Disney should hire you...heck, ALL of us  ;)  ;D

Excellent Interlude!

LOL!  SECOND!  I'll bet we could write out a bunch of good stuff for them!  Imagine a movie universe with all of these tie-ins!  WOOT!  They'd make Marvel look like pikers!  he he he!

Yeah. That would be a fun job, sitting there with the LucasFilms story group working in easter eggs from all across Star Wars. ;D

Thanks glad it worked, I was worried the three scenes would be too disjointed to get the connection between them across...the irony of teaching future masters to embrace their padawans unique abilities...but in practice exiling the Mak'Tor for difference....

I'm glad the style works well with these interludes, but you can't write a coherent multi-chapter story this way.

As to the identity of key players, Dutchman got that nailed...expect to see more of them soon....
Anyway I know I promised in my teaser Legacy would start mid December...a few more interludes to go....Who could this lady from CotA and her companion be???


She fell into his arms as soon as the door had opened.  Their time together was too precious, too short, too infrequent to wait.

As it hissed closed behind her she was already pulling at his clothes, with her hands and with the force.  He seemed surprised at first but soon began to follow her lead.  Robes, tunics, belts all flew about the room, he only paused at the lacy black negligée she was wearing underneath, a little bit of vanity and extravagance on her part, something to make her feel less like a boring brown robed Jedi.

He suddenly seemed the anxious quiet young man he had been when she first met him…the second side of the coin of his personality.  It had been after a debate in the Temple, he had stood his ground against Master Gurrlum, arguing forcefully and convincingly, so confident and strong.  Though he lost in the judges eyes, he had won in hers.  When she sought him out in the mess hall later he had been taciturn, quiet, but sweet.

He took his time about it, but soon even that last piece of fabric was inched off her skin as she tumbled on top of him on the bed.  She held him as tightly as she could, washing away the lingering stresses and pains of their last missions with a flood of kissing before losing all pretence of restraint.  They didn’t just use their hands, their lips, their bodies…but the force as well to please each other…it was so liberating to use all of herself like this, nothing to hold her back.

She had once tried to supress her feelings…talked to half a dozen masters to control her ‘wants’ but it wasn’t a want, it was a need…she needed affection, connection, intimacy.  And he…when he finally opened up it was as if he knew her very soul, it was as if he had seen deep into her mind already.  They had both been so nervous…not just about being caught, but about each other that first time, it had taken a while before it fully passed and she could completely give herself over as she did now. 

Her legs tightened around his waist as his hands trailed through her black hair that made a stark contrast to the crisp white sheets of the Denon hotel.  As he busied himself nibbling at her neck while they slowly rocked back and forth she noticed the flowers and lovingly wrapped boxes on the small table…he always brought her nice gifts… They had so little time…she was due back to Coruscant, he was on off to some mission to the Kathol Rift…they had all of six hours before her apprentice would finish up at the nearby university…no she wouldn’t worry about all that now…she was sick of worrying.

She didn’t care about the rules anymore…it was terrible to say in a way but honestly she was just over it…if they were caught…she couldn’t care less, let them exile them, they could go and live in Hapes, Alderran or maybe join the Mak’tor….but it wouldn’t just be exile, while Kimar was at the helm…there had been rumours of Jedi who left not being contacted again...

He held her closely as they slowed down, his arms strong but not bulky, the last waves of their pleasure petered out into the silence of the room.  Let them send someone after them, her lover had a protectiveness a deep sense of loyalty about him, and she couldn’t think of more than three Masters who would even dare to face him if it came down to it –he was feared and respected in equal measure.  She kissed his cheek and slowly slipped out to open her gifts,

“I hope you like them…” he said the nervousness returning to his voice…he flipped that way, from strong, unyielding to cautious, worried…adamantium shell over a gentle, slightly pained heart…sent on the dirtiest missions Kimar could devise, she knew it hurt him deeply.

She gently unwrapped the first, two small but very expensive bottles of perfume she could easily hide in her quarters at the temple, some sweets from Naboo, and in a cryo-box a small bracelet of Chandrillan flowers, it would last a few days before wilting, she couldn’t be caught in the Temple with actual Jewellery after all, but it would last the trip back at least.

“They’re wonderful, where did you get the credits for this!”  she turned and opened the perfume dabbing some on her neck line, a rich musk with slightly citrus accents. 

He shrugged to wave the question away, it didn’t matter she supposed.  There was a small folded card in the box beneath where the bottle had been,

“For later,” he said stretching out as he approached her, “when you’re back at the Temple,” she wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling brightly at the thought of another surprise. 

She leaned in and kissed him deeply as she could, this was what she wanted, damn the Jedi…once her apprentice was knighted…she and her lover could finally be free.

Great scene!  The essence without getting smutty.  Thank you.  :)

As for who...  Honestly my head is to full of stuff to keep track of them well...  My apologies, its not a reflection on your writing, more of keeping track of Wind Chimes right now.  Still, these are folks that really do NOT need to be found out my Kimar...  LOL

   
As the face of the large human man disappeared, I smiled to myself. They don’t trust me, but the information was too good to pass up. I thought. This was exactly the kind of thing Gaetana had wanted. Now, to set the trap.
   
As I walked out of my quarters, one of my men came running up to me.
   
“Sir, there is a Lancer-class pursuit craft coming towards the surface.”
   
“There is no way Rowahn has recovered, and made his way here this fast.” Or these two gray Jedi. I thought as I continued to speak. “Arm all weapons, and be ready to fire should this craft attack.”
   
“Yes sir.” The human cried before running off to warn the rest of the crew. Quickly returning to my cabin, I threw on my brown overcoat, and grabbed my blaster, then quickly readjusted it into assault rifle configuration. Suddenly I could feel the ship shaking and hear the explosions coming from outside. Proton torpedoes! I thought as I ran towards the cockpit. The crew were already in their different gunning positions, and all I had to do was take off. Just then another volley of torpedoes shook the ship, and the engines went offline. “Fire now, before they destroy the ship.” I yelled at the men.

---

   
Each and every modification had a purpose. Some were just for fun, but most had been designed for this meeting. As I fired volley after volley of torpedoes at the freighter, I began to laugh. I had finally caught up to the man who had murdered my sister that day. As the ship began firing back, I switched the power from the torpedoes to the deflector shields, and began a strafing run. The gun mounted on the front of the ship was not super powerful, but I would rather kill Caedon personally rather than let my ship do it. This day had been planned out for years. The location was not ideal, but that did not matter anymore.
   
Soon, I left off firing on them, and sought out a landing zone. As soon as I found one, I left the ship to my astromech R4-T3, and hurried to the door. I had everything prepped and ready to go before I dropped out of hyperspace. As soon as the door was open wide enough I exited the ship, and began running for cover. Forty-three quickly got the Scholar’s Revenge up again, and I waited for my prey. I knew they would be coming, but I didn’t know how long it would take them. I had modified each piece of my armor so it would make little sound while I moved, but still provided the protection it was designed for.
   
As I slowly and silently moved towards their own ship, I was constantly sweeping the area. My blaster ready, my head on a swivel. Seeing movement up ahead, I raised my blaster, and aimed. Seeing nothing more, I waited a few more seconds, then slowly began moving once again. Crouching low, I proceeded in forward in squat, still continuing to observe the area.
   
After another few moments of movement, I could see their ship through the dense trees. There was no movement around that I could see, so I moved behind cover and waited. Waited and watched. I had chosen my armor for today well. Not only was it warm in the cold atmosphere, but it was also camouflaged almost perfectly for the terrain.
   
Soon I began to hear crunching in the snow. It was only a single person however, and I could tell that the person was much lighter than Caedon. As the man walked past, I could see that he was a fairly small, though extremely dangerous looking human, though there was something different about him. Unsheathing my knife, I looked around the rocks I was hiding behind to make sure no one else was coming, then silently, snuck up behind the man, and slit his throat. I did not know how many men Caedon had with him, but one less was one less.
   
Moving back slowly towards my own landing site, I again continued to sweep the area. As soon as I arrived, I saw Caedon and three others with him standing in the clearing where I had landed the ship. They knew I was coming, and as soon as I came into earshot, they yelled for me to come out. I was not stupid, nor did I fancy one of them getting a shot off at me before I had a chance to take down Caedon. Waiting a few moment to make sure there were no others hiding in the woods, I slowly worked my way out, staying just inside the tree-line so I could keep some cover. Peeking around a tree, I could see that while they were tense, and waiting for battle, they did not have their weapons raised, and were just waiting for me. Sizing them up, they were all fairly well armed. Caedon had his A280-CFE blaster in assault rifle configuration, as well as two thermal detonators and a thermal imploder. One was a large zabrak with a vibro-sword strapped to his back, and a CA-87 shock blaster. The remaining two were both humans. One carried an E-11 blaster rifle as well as a Vilmarh’s Revenge blaster pistol at his side. And the other carried two LL-30 blaster pistols.
   
I need to take out the zabrak first. I thought. He is too big and has too good of weapons for close range.
   
Stepping out into the opening with my raised, and ready to fire, I stared at Caedon. The hatred was visible in my eyes, and he knew it was either him or me. He was about to speak when I quickly turned, and fired both barrels at the zabrak. The shots flew true, right into his face, and he fell instantly. The shock of it gave me enough time to pull out a thermal detonator, and throw it into the center of the group. However, by the time it went off, they had already scattered and taken cover. Running through the woods in Caedon’s direction, dodging blaster fire, and hiding behind trees and rocks, I made it to the first human. As he fired, his first shot hit me in the shoulder, but I had a good piece of clone armor there, and all it did was slow me down. It was too late though, I was already on him. The man wasn’t smart enough to wear a helmet, and the butt of my rifle quickly found his head. As he fell, I continued running. I could see Caedon running off into the forest, and I could not let him escape. As blaster fire suddenly erupted around me, I dived towards cover. I was too slow, and a bolt struck me in the leg. I barely felt it with all the adrenaline coursing through me, but it slowed me down. Tossing some gas grenades behind me, I let them smoke up, then continued my pursuit. As I had hoped, the gas provided a smoke screen, as well as a barrier, for the remaining crewman did not have a mask either, and therefore could not follow me.
   
I heard the beeping, but paid no attention, until I ran past it, and the proximity mine went off. My armor absorbed some of the blast, but even with the armor I would have died there had I not been running. Still, the blast threw me to the ground, and knocked the breath out of me. As soon as I was recovered enough to move again, I rose and gave chase. I could see him in front of me, and I was gaining. Then he stopped, looked back, smiled, and then threw the imploder straight towards me. As it flew, I once again dove for cover, spinning as I did so, and letting loose multiple bolts at the bomb. I did not hit it, and the implosion pulled me inward. A tree stopping me from disintegrating, but the force from hitting the tree was too much. As I slumped to the ground, I looked up and saw Caedon walking towards me. Reaching into my pocket, I signaled for Forty-three. He knew what he had to do. The signal was for him to bomb the location. Even if I died, Caedon needed to as well.

---

   
“Who are you” I asked the man after removing his helmet. It wasn’t that I cared who it was died. But I did want to know who had tried to kill me, and been good enough to take out multiple of my men while chasing me. This man was good, I’d give him that. I’d also give him a clean death, he deserved it. He had come closer to killing me than any other man had in a long time.
   
“You killed my sister! You killed Jamima!” the man nearly screamed, as the tears came rolled down his face.
   
“It’s possible. I’ve killed a lot of people.”
   
Then he did something unexpected. He simply raised his hand and showed me a transmitter.
   
“Are you still trying to win? You have an over-developed sense of vengeance. It’s going to get you into trouble someday.” I asked as a smile came onto his face. “You’ve been chasing me all these years only to fail now? I think that’s about the worst thing I’ve ever heard.” Then I heard the whine of the engines, and realized what the transmitter meant.
   
“I haven’t failed!” He said with one last breath of desperation, and a hint of a smile on his face.
   
The man was brave. Foolish, but brave. “Yes you have.” I said, then I raised my blaster, and shot him through the heart. He was dead, and he had failed. Then I promptly turned and ran. I had barely a few seconds before the bombing started, but I ran hard. Realizing that if I didn’t find adequate cover soon, the man would succeed.
   
All I could see where rock outcroppings, and trees. Nothing hide under. So I kept running, the bombing had started, and I was still running. Suddenly I tripped, and rolled into a cave. I had no idea what was in the cave, but I figured it was better than outside, so I sat there as the ground above me shook, and the walls tried to collapse. After a few moments, the air strike was over, and the ground stopped shaking. My ears were ringing, and my heart was beating so loud it felt like my chest was going to explode, but I was alive. Slowly, shakily, I made my way out of the cave, and back towards my ship.
   
When I arrived, I sat down and rested. Slowly the two humans came out with their blasters pointed at me. “Boss? Is that you?” They asked uncertainly.
   
“Of course it is!” I shouted. "Now get to work repairing the engines before I kill you both and leave this freezing rock! And keep an eye out for that guy’s ship!”
   
As they went back about their work, I took the tracker I had taken from Jord’s ship, and went off into the forest. I had seen a valley a little ways off as I had landed. As I headed towards it, I saw a dark building off in the distance. It was the first time I had noticed it, and I had no idea what it was, but it looked evil, and was full of darkness. I continued walking, and soon found the valley. Tossing the tracker into the valley, I walked off. Hopefully that would throw Rowahn off the trail, but I had another tracker set to the same frequency, in case it didn’t.
   
As soon as I got back to the ship, I saw that the two men that were left had found out what was wrong with the engines, and were almost done fixing it. As I went to my cabin, and sat down, I thought about the man. He had looked familiar, but not like he had ever met him before. His sister. I realized. He looked like his sister. I had forgotten about that day at Bar’leth. It was soon after that that I went under the radar for a while. It wasn’t until I got this job with the Empire that I came out again. I thought with a snicker. He’s been following me for over two years. Jamima. That was her name. I never even wondered about it. I guess that’s what happens when your life sucks for the first few years of life. Oh well. Doesn’t matter now. He’s dead. She’s dead. I’m still alive, and I still have a contract to fulfill.
   
Once his comlink rang, and the men told him that the ship was ready for takeoff, he went to the cockpit, and flew away.


------------------------------------------------------

I think this is the last interlude for a while. I don't know how you all will take it, but I had a lot of fun writing it. Switching between the two POVs was hard, but I think I got it to work the way I wanted to. It is quite a bit longer than I had anticipated, but I'm extremely happy with the result. But hopefully it gave you a better look into the minds of both these characters.

And I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist quoting The Princess Bride (second time I've done it now, one was in the actual story though), the scene was too fitting no to.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this interlude.

Nice...  though I was rooting for the guy.  I mean, in TPB Indago Montoya succeeds in killing the six-fingered man.  So you changed the story!  LOL

The switch wasn't bad, it was pretty well written.  The format was appropriate for telling this story in this way.  And the quote actually helped to shield the outcome.  So it worked as a nice little red herring. 

Well done!  But back to the main event!  GO!  :-)

For TR's Interlude

The dual POV can be tough, but you did a great job.  I have to say that Caedon is quickly becoming a favorite of mine.  That guy is absolutely insidious (...bah, no pun intended).  He's as cold-blooded a killer as can be: pragmatic, self-serving, and fearless. 

Like Karm, I was also rooting for the professor...but it's still a dilemma with whom to come out on top  ;)  Regardless, this was an enjoyable read  ;D

And--I've got to admit--it's always fun to see more easter eggs with Gaetana  ;)

For LSG's Interlude

Was this the one lady Jedi that Valens...siphoned?  Sofa IIRC? 

Yet another POV that has a distinct "voice."  I have to say that Karm was right: tastefully done.  But it reminds me of the Timothy Zahn book "Visions of the Future" where Luke and Mara were able to "share" each other's emotions via the Force.  That makes me think of this Interlude.  And let's hope that Kimer DOESN'T find out!

Thanks guys. The "“Yes you have.” I said, then I raised my blaster, and shot him through the heart." scene reminded me of a Robert Downy Jr. scene, it just seemed like something Tony Stark or Sherlock Holmes would do.

After seeing you guys' reaction to Ethan the first time, I almost considered not killing him, but he had originally been thought up as just a background character that you would see once, and then he was gone. It was hard to kill him, but I needed to, and I needed to stick with the original plan a little better. And since Caedon is the kind of "big bad" in this book, you can't kill him halfway through. Maybe sometime I'll do a short story about Ethan so we can see some more of him.

Anyways, glad you guys liked it. I'm just glad in worked out like I was hoping.

Liking Caedons utter indifference...for Ethan this was the culmination of years of effort and Caedon just could not care less, he's just an annoyance to him.


Right on it was the unfortunate young Knight (now master) Sofa, her mind sucked then stuck in a coma till Soryu pulled her out...she'll be showing up more frequently.

Good call Dutchman!  :-)  She seems a very interesting character!  It will be fun getting to know her a bit better.  LOL

*** Well Met ***

The ship, a hard-used YT-2000 light freighter, settled lightly on the pad.  Whatever else may be wrong with it, the ship's drives and thrusters were in excellent condition...

"That's a rough looking ship."

I looked down at my wife.  Talia was still the young and beautiful girl I'd impeutously married but she had matured greatly since we arrived on M'Tzigon.  She was force-sensitive but had proven to be totally unable to connect to the underlying song.  "Tone deaf" was what the Kowan Knight who had evaluated her had called it. However, she'd proven to be amazingly proficient with computer code and quite adept at by-passing and disabling security and surveillence systems.  A skill that had quickly brought her to the attention of one Telow'na Jackson...

"Looks can be decieving." I replied.  I pointed out the fact that while the outer hull was superficially dirty and appeared in ill repair, the actual systems were all apparently fully functional and worked just fine.

She replied by sticking out her tongue and crossing her arms.  I chuckled.  Ok, maybe not so mature after all...

The ramp into the ship dropped and two people emerged.  In the lead was a large man, dangerous looking and lithe despite being over two meters tall and well muscled.  He had piercing gray eyes that seemed to take in everything at once and...

Odd.  I couldn't read him at all.  It was like he wasn't even there.  Master Karmack had warned us of this, but sensing it for myself was unsettling.  It wasn't even like a droid or other inanimate object.  Even a hunk of metal or a computer left a small echo, a shadow in the force.  A resonance.  Something.  But this man was totally invisible. 

Amazing...

The woman standing next to him was his opposite in every way.  The man was huge.  She was small.  He was bald.  She had long, flowing red hair.  His gray eyes were steady and veiled.  Her green eyes flashed with both fire and passion.  He was a rock.  She, a whirlwind...

And she's like a fire in the force ... and in the song as well.

Considering who they were, and why they were here, I was suddenly glad they were not my responsibility.  I let my hand brush my saber hilt as Talia smiled and advanced to meet them.  My job was simple: protect Talia and provide security. 

Talia...  She had the hard job.

"Welcome!"  Talia's voice was full of energy and joy as she greeted our guests.  "Welcome to M'Tzigon!  Master Karmack and Lady Arnor have told us a lot about you!  He will be pleased to hear of your safe arrival.  But please, come join us.  We have refreshment prepared, and then we'll start the process of getting you settled."

The two shared an uneasy glance, but then Talia's exuberant welcome began to break through.  She shook the giant's hand and embraced the woman in an easy hug.  "This is my husband, Illian."

I stepped forward.  "Pleased to meet you...?"  I said, offering my hand.

The bear took it.  "Kohl.  Balnard Kohl.  Illian, is it?  You know Master Karmack?"

I nodded.  "Yes.  I'm one of his rescues, you could say."

"We are, that is." Talia chimed in, wrapping her arm around me and pulling me tight to herself.  "He saved both of us, along the way.  Something I think we all have in common."

The woman, Julwynn, finally smiled.  It was a small smile, but it indicated that Talia was succeeding.  And faster than anyone really thought she would, too!   

The two women fell in together, sharing their different stories of how Master Karmack and Lady Arnor had saved them from certain death and destruction, and then moving on to other topics the way women will. I fell into step behind my wife and shared a wry glance with the giant.  Well, here we go again...

He grinned.  No words, but suddenly we were acquaintances instead of strangers.

Maybe this wasn't just Talia's mission after all....

Yeah! Illian is back. This was a great interlude. Not overly long, but it gave us just enough to keep us going until your next installment. Plus it is always good to see Illian and Talia. Also, I loved that Talia is completely "tone deaf" (great way to bring in more musical terms BTW). Anyways, great job.

TR put that eloquently, perfectly.  Wonderful to see the return of Illian and Talia!  Wow They sent Julwynn to M'Tzigon?!  Actually that makes sense; Jennira was on her way when...Mendax absconded with her...

You know this was brought up before but allow me to reiterate: the Song aspect of the Force really is an interesting and compelling device that IMO makes the SW universe BETTER.  Good job Karm and TR for perpetuating that  :D

Wonderful Interlude Karm  :)

This is so true Karm, when you were first writing "We Are Gray", I assumed that the Song was just a way of describing the Force, but now it has built into not just a way of seeing the Force, but a whole other aspect of it. While before it was just a description, now it is a sect or people group. I know you didn't have to let me, but I thank you for allowing me to use it (though not as much as you) in my own story. I feel that the "Song" and "Singer" really enrich the universe, and make the Force more of something divine and special, rather than just a mystical law of science.

Interlude-
Misdirection

D’Aylanna and I had been on her trail for weeks.  Dantooine, Ord Sedra, Vuchelle, even Bnar VII.  Each and every time, we’d come close…only to have just missed Gaetana.  By now she knew that we were following her, making her that much more dangerous.

But now, we’d gotten lucky: the red giant binary of Markbee’s Star had gone nova, completely changing the hyperspace lanes for at least a radius of 25 parsecs.  We could calculate a new jump, reroute and hopefully get ahead of her.  And we’d had the incredible luck to be docked on Ketaris just as news of the star’s demise became known.

“Shakal, I must needs put in for supplies as well as room and board.  Once done, we can jump ahead of that tralk and deliver her unto justice.”  D’Aylanna’s blue lips had a firm set to them.

“No, Ereneda, tell me how you really feel.” I joked, somewhat surprised at her use of expletives.  My wife was a woman of propriety and royalty besides.  Hearing her curse like a smuggler amused me to no end.  With a wry grin, she gave me a playful look before she entered The Imperial Grand hotel lobby; she’d chosen this as our final stay on Ketaris.  Shaking my head, I headed to the lounge area.

Flexing my new cybernetic right hand, I ordered one of the more exotic drinks that Ketaris offered.  “I would like a…hawt chokalit.”  I fumbled over the foreign and unfamiliar name.  As the bartender handed me the drink, I had to remember to reach with my right hand; all of those months of practicing with only my left had truly made me ambidextrous.

Putting the cup to my lips, I almost burned my tongue, gulping down the first drink.  The next, I cautiously sipped at it.  By the Maker…this is delicious! I told myself.  I just knew that D’Aylanna would have to try it.  And Jorya…

Jorya.  My new teidowan.  She was still young, but she’d been through more adversity than many adults.  Being betrayed by her first master and then tortured.  Just the thought of it made me angry again.  I felt hot liquid spill on my right hand.  Damn.  I was still getting used to the cybernetic hand; I’d bent the metallic cup out of alignment.  Well…Gaetana’s treatment of Jorya still threatened to enrage me.  And I swore to protect her.

Which was one of the reasons that D’Aylanna and I had chosen for her to stay on Sekot.  Well…the reasons were two-fold: she could also take care of my old teacher and friend, Master Kazic Ovarug.  I was suddenly wistful.  Kazic had found me all of those years ago on Dalos IV when I was nothing but one of countless militant orphans.  Thank the Maker that it was him that I ran into… Well, now I could return the favor: Jorya took to him just as well as I had.  Better, truth to tell.  So: we figured that they could look after one another.

I smiled at that thought.  Master Kazic was ornery, curmudgeonly, and shrewd.  And he’d come to care for Jorya just like D’Aylanna and myself.  I was lucky: I had family, something that I had never thought I would ever have.  But, thinking of Jorya—and of G’av—I knew that Gaetana had to pay.  And so: we’d been hunting her for weeks now.

“Sir?”  One of the hotel’s attendant droids interrupted my ruminations.  “Excuse me, sir.  But I have a special delivery for you.”

“…Sorry?” I was momentarily taken aback.  Then, I thought it must be from D’Aylanna.  “Ah, sorry.  Certainly.”  The droid made a noise to the affirmative, handing me a datacard.

“Please use your in-room datanode.  Thank you, sir!”

Shaking my head as the droid walked away, I pinged D’Aylanna’s comm.  “Ereneda, I got your message.  So tell me, Marquesa, which room are we in?”  I joking said in a seductive voice.

There was a silent pause.  “…Excuse me, Shakal?  Is this another one of your human idioms that I am unused to?”

I stopped.  “No, Ereneda.”  Looking at the datacard, I was not only curious but also alarmed.  “I received this datacard from one of the hotel’s droids.  Thought that you’d sent it.”

I could almost see D’Aylanna’s serious face.  “I did not.”

Solemnly I started walking towards one of the inner lifts.  I had my lightsaber in my right hand, ready to ignite.  “Ereneda, tell me what room you’re in.  I’ll be there presently.” 

            <<<<< >>>>>

“I did not send this.”  D’Aylanna’s face mirrored her grave tone.

“…Then what the hell…”  The datacard lay in the middle of the table in our rented room.

“Shakal, did the droid say anything else?”  My wife’s dark eyes held no fear, just concern.

Thinking back, I started nodding.  “…Yes.  ‘Use your in-room datanode.’”  I looked right at D’Aylanna.  “Have you told anyone that we were coming here?  Or sign in under our real names?”  I was almost certain that both answers would be “no.”

D’Aylanna gave me a look, one that spouses through time immemorial would recognize as having made a mistake.  “Really, Shakal.”

Shaking my head, I apologized.  “I know, I know.  Sorry Ereneda.  I…just can’t understand how anyone would know that we’re here…”  I let the comment hang in the air.

And with the courage of my convictions, I inserted the card into the datanode.  The holovid image pulsed as the comm unit made the connection.  After about a minute, a disembodied head appeared.  He had a blue face with yellow tattoos and purple hair, dark and intelligent eyes staring at me from under his brow.

“Ah.  Koawan Zearic Vih’Torr.  At last.”  I did not let my shock show.

“Caedon Ti-rell.” I stated monotonely.

“You’ve heard of me.  I’m surprised.”  His face didn’t change; if he was surprised, he certainly didn’t show it.

“The ‘Empire’s Vornskr?’  Or ‘Jedi Hunter?’  How about the ‘Butcher of Bar’leth?’” I tried not to let my anger show.  I was only somewhat successful… “Yes, I’ve heard of you.”

He smiled, the faintest turn of his lips.  “That last one is my favorite.  But I did not contact you to trade useless platitudes.  I need your help.”

This time, I knew that I couldn’t fully hide the disbelief on my face.  “My help?  How did you even know we’d be here?”

“I didn’t.”  His face was expressionless, impassive.  “I wrote an algorithm that I sliced as a back-door exploit into the Imperial Grand database.”  When D’Aylanna and I just stared he gave a small, silent sigh.  “The parameters dictated an Ident-Program for a large human male, 1.83 meters, 125 to 150 kilograms traveling with a small Hapan female, 1.55 to 1.6 meters, 50 to 55 kilograms.”  Again, he gave another “almost-smile.”  “Incredible that I’ve had a few ‘false positives.’”  Under his breath, I heard him mutter “fools.”

D’Aylanna and I stood there, my arms folded.  “For brevity’s sake, let’s just agree that what you’re saying is true.  What help do you need from us?” I asked.

Without pause, Caedon spoke, “I’ve been given a contract on someone I believe that you know.  Gaetana Ravine.”  He paused to let that sink in.

It had the desired effect.  D’Aylanna and I exchanged looks.  “What is that to us?” I asked cooly.

“Please, Vih’Torr.  This dialogue will go much smoother so long as you do not insult my intelligence.”  Neither Caedon’s face nor voice sounded perturbed, merely concise and businesslike.

After a moment, I conceded, “OK.  Gaetana?”

Smoothly, he continued, “Yes.  My contract stipulates ‘Dead-or-Alive’ and I’m thinking that the latter would be better.”

“Why don’t you just close the contract yourself?  After all, you have experience with killing Jedi.”  I let a little of the disgust that I felt echo in my voice.  For all of the impact that it made…

Succinctly, he resumed, “Unfortunately, Ravine knows my face: she…escaped my previous attempt.”  He barely hesitated.  “Put simply: I cannot complete my contract.  At least, not alone.”

“Again, let’s pretend that you’re telling us the truth.  You’ve told us the ‘why.’  Now tell me ‘how’ you know about us.” 

“‘Know your enemy.’  I know that Ravine spent years amidst the Gray Jedi on Zonama Sekot.  I know that she is a master saber practitioner.  I know that she is a High Inquisitor.”  He paused, significantly.  “I also know of the Gray Jedi that penetrated the Kuati Defenses.  Nice slicing, that.  And I know of the Gray Jedi attack against the Inquisitorious on Byss.  And one name that links all clues: Koawan Zearic Vih’Torr.”  Caedon stared straight into my eyes.  “And, ‘the enemy of my enemy is my…ally.’”

Both D’Aylanna and I faced the holovid, motionless, silent.  Finally, D’Aylanna spoke, “How do you ultimately benefit from this?”

Caedon’s head turned to face her.  “You two kill Ravine.  I get my bounty for the contract without having dedicated many resources towards success.”

I considered what he said and the possible veracity of everything he’d told us.  This could be what we need… “Give us whatever intel you have.”

D’Aylanna started, muting the connection.  “Shakal, we know nothing about this…person.  Or his motives.”

“Agreed, Ereneda.  That’s why we’ll peruse all information that he provides us.  We’ll make an informed decision absent of any other considerations.  And I trust you.”  I gave a small smile.

D’Aylanna’s face didn’t so much as twitch.  Slowly, she sighed.  “Alright, Shakal.  And I, you.”  With that, my wife unmuted the holovid.

“Give us your information and we’ll consider using it.” I told him using my best sabacc face.

“Of course, Vih’Torr.”  As Caedon looked to something off-screen, I heard a ping, indicative of signal retrieval.  “You now have the pertinent data.  You can contact me using the same datacard to confirm the closing of the contract.”  Caedon’s blue face disappeared as the holovid unit connection was severed.

I spoke before D’Aylanna.  “I know you don’t trust him.  Hell, I don’t trust him.  But this information is just too good to pass up, Ereneda.”

Her lips thinning, my wife nodded slowly in agreement, meanwhile checking the retrieved data.  “Agreed, Shakal.  But we do need to check and recheck this.”

And as we did so, the name of the destination planet came up. 

Belassar.

            <<<<< >>>>>

As soon as Caedon finished relating his communications with the Vih’Torrs, he asked, “Your timing must be perfect.  Are you certain that they’ll follow?”

Gaetana smiled.  “Of course they will.  Those fools can’t possibly let an ‘imbalance’ remain after all of the Gray Jedi I killed, to say nothing of the personal loss they’ve experienced at my hands.”  She suddenly sobered.  “What about your own subject?  Is Rowahn’s arrival on Belassar imminent?”

Without so much as a smile upon his mouth, he answered, “Yes.  Rowahn should be en route.”

And as the holovid connection severed, the room went dark.  Despite the lack of light, Gaetana could see everything.

“Perfect.”

Karmack - as everyone else mentioned good to see Illian and Talia back...getting very chummy it seems...Kohl is quite interesting I have to say...he's getting more interesting the more places he shows up in such odd ways...following around a night sister but invisible in the force....

Dutchman good to see the start of another solid cross over...makes me wonder what exactly thei motivations for finding Gaetana are...justice, threat reduction...satisfaction..

Last One....I'm sure Dutchman will know who this is..

The heat was stifling, every inch of her was covered in sweat, twin suns mercilessly beat down upon her.  Her breath was ragged and course from her dry throat. Yet she kept going.

The sand was burning hot, it seeped through her boots to her sweat drenched feet, the wind blew the coarse grains into her face.  Yet she kept going.

There seemed to be no end to the course she had been set, no matter how many markers she passed an infinite number stretched to the horizon, and with each one she passed the weight of her pack seemed to grow.  Yet she kept going.

***********************************************************************************************
The cold was biting into each and every nerve, her very bones felt frozen to the core.  The darkness and slick ice floor made it nearly impossible to avoid slipping.  Yet she kept going.

The sleet came down and drenched her hair and skin, pulling out all feeling, her arms and legs were numb, invisible to her senses, spurred on only by her mind that wasn’t even sure they were still attached.  Yet she kept going.

Razor sharps blocks of ice fell from the glacier walls, invisible in the dark to all normal senses, the precipice indistinguishable just two steps ahead from the slippery ice, a centimetre either way and she would be crushed and cut, or fall and splattered.  Yet she kept going.

***********************************************************************************************
The planet felt of death and rot.  It was like a stench, one you couldn’t block out with a mask, one that wasn’t just hitting your sense of smell but your whole body.  The force was rotten here.  Yet she kept going.

The denizens of this place were a reflection of the force, they would spit on her, curse her, push her in crowds, try to grab her in lecherous ways.  Yet she kept going

The way they looked at her was sickening, like she was a dish of some kind to be served at their pleasure, they spoke to her like she was nothing more than a body that occasionally made noises from a pretty little set of lips that should be doing something more pleasurable for them.  Yet she kept going.

***********************************************************************************************

It had been hot and steamy in the cantina, she was tired from chasing the thugs, acidic drinks, knives and blaster bolts were thrown at her, the floor was a mess of blood and rusted metal…but she had caught them – She had kept going

The void of space had been freezing about her, bolts of blue came out of nowhere any one of which would obliterate her small fighter, the planets gravity threatened to pull her into a crushing descent at any second, the freighter was inches from making the jump to hyperspace…but she hit the engines just in time – She had kept going.

No one had listened, or taken her seriously, she had to research it herself, ask around in the seediest of places, proffered bribes of credits and flesh to just let it go, ignore it…but she had exposed them – She had kept going.

I am going to go with "Kiraea."

Once again LSG you prove what an incredible author you are.  Completely different use of voice; you really are quite the poet ( and I don't mean that in the generic way, your prose is reflective of both adversity and (more importantly) the persistence to endure and succeed.  I wish that I could write in different voices as successfully and as easy as you do.  Outstanding writing my friend!

"Tears"

I sat in lotus in the middle of the training room mat.  The tears had stopped an hour or so before, but the hollow pit in my stomach remained.

Dad is never coming home...

The hollow look in my mother's eyes as the words emerged said more than the flat tone.  The mission had been ... routine.  Surveillance of a mercenary unit dispatched by the Hutts to a nearby system after rumors of a Jedi Sentinel hiding there and resisting their attempts to control the planet had surfaced.  Dad had been upbeat when he left, talked about my upcoming transition from formal schooling to Teidowan status.  I was almost fourteen, and we'd already begun the process informally...

But not now.  Something had happened.  The rumors had been true and the Jedi had been localized.  Dad had moved in to help, tried to get him out... 

And instead of the Jedi dying they had BOTH died!

Anger rippled through me, rising like a burning red tide behind my bloodshot eyes.  I screamed in fury, never moving a muscle but using the force to systematically reduce one of the training room target dummies to very small bits...

"Impressive.  Even angry, your control is amazing..."

I whipped around to see Master Chillum standing in the doorway.  He was chuckling, but his eyes were sorrowful ... and disappointed.  "What do you care?   What does it matter?"

Hazel eyes bored into my own.  "It matters.  If I am going to trust my Teidowan with my life I need to know how skilled he is ... and where his focus lies."

Fear rose, replacing anger and a cold fist squeezed my chest.  "I ....   I don't know what you mean, Master."

Again the sad, disappointed look.  "Honesty, Karm.  Always honesty."

I felt defiance rise.  Crest.  Break and fall away.   I tore my eyes away and looked at the room around me.  It was littered with debris from my temper tantrum...  I looked back at Master Chillum, and the anger melted away, replaced by sorrow ... and shame.  My eyes filled with tears and I broke down sobbing again.  "I'm so...so....sorry..."

Arms enveloped me.  "Now, now lad.   Cry...."

We sat there for a long time, Master Chillum rocking me as I cried more than I thought I could.  Finally it was done and I sat back.  "Thank you, Uncle Du'an..."

He sat across from me, adopting a lotus.  His eyes told me that the time of comforting was over.  Now for 'the talk'... "You're welcome.  Now...  Tell me about the rage."

The cold fist in the pit of my stomach returned.  "Rage, master?"  The eyes narrowed and I swallowed.  There was no point in trying to lie or hide it.  I'd felt it growing all day, a glowing ball of magma, deep down, feeding the anger, the tantrum, the sorrow, the grief...  "It's there, Master.  I feel it.  Rage.  Rage against those who killed father.  Rage against..."  I swallowed.  Shame flamed my cheeks. 

"Honesty, lad.  Always."  Master Chillum repeated, his voice soft.  His eyes were softened by understanding, but the unyielding mettel remeained.   

I nodded.  "Yes sir.  I feel rage against the Kage, and the Council, for sending Dad.  And I feel rage that .... that I wasn't there with him."  I took a deep breath and suddenly it blazed in my chest and my eyes.  "I hate them all!"

Master Chillum's expression never changed.  His face was still, dispassionate.  His body quiet, at rest.  And his eyes....   Rock hard but also soft.  Determined and loving.  Sorrowful ... and disappointed.  I felt the hatred burning bright inside me, fueling the rage, fueling the anger, and I knew that was what disappointed him.  Not that I was angry.  Anger was normal, a part of grief.

Uncle Du'an is disappointed in me for hating....

The realization rocked through me.  The Mak'Tor did not reject strong emotions or emotional ties as the Jedi did, but they did reject Evil.  And hate was Evil.  Anger was not Hatred.  Anger could be fueled by a desire to bring justice or stop and injustice.  Anger, under control, could even save your life.  But anger fueled by hatred...  Hate only destroyed.  Anger was a flame, a fire, that could be controlled.  Hatred was a pit of magma that could only control you, use you, and burn you to a cinder.

And I ... hated.

I hated!

A sense of fear and desperation flooded through me.  I had a sense of my potential.  Father and I had discussed it many times.  The evidence of it was all around me, in the debris I had created in my rage.  In my hatred!  I looked around the room and saw the damage, saw it for what it was: evidence of my failure.  My unfitness to be called a Knight.  Or Teidowan.

I turned eyes filled with desperation and despair on my uncle.  My mouth opened and closed.  No words would come.

Master Chillum leaned forward, took my head in his hands and locked my eyes to his.  "There's only one way out, Karm.  Only one.  You must forgive."

Forgive...

My voice was a whisper.  "Forgive?  Who?"

"Everyone.  All of us that have injured you.  Just as the Maker forgives us when we hurt him.  Vengence belongs to Him, lad.  Let Him to His job.  Forgive ... and live."

I trembled.  There as suddenly a war raging in my chest, and I couldn't breathe.  Forgive?  NO!  I wanted to HATE them!  To rip them to shreds.   To kill them all....   But then i recoiled away from the hatred.  No!  Kill them all?  Kill the Kage?  Master Chillum?  Mom?  I felt myself teatering on a knife-edge...

Forgive ... and live...

Suddenly it was clear.  Life or Death.  Love or Hate.  Live or Die.  I opened my eyes and in that moment I chose to live.  Maker, forgive me!  I forgive you!  Help me forgive!

"Uncle Du'an ... I forgive you."

The tears started again, and I saw them in Master Chillum's face as well.  "Aye, Lad.  Thank you..."  And his arms were around me again.  When we parted this time, his eyes were shining, the disappointment gone.  "And now, lad, lets get this place cleaned up."

I smiled and wiped my eyes, rising to join my new Master in cleaning up the mess I'd made.  I poked carefully at my emotions.  There would be more tears.  The sorrow was still there, dark and forboding.  And the anger.  But the hatred was gone.

I would live.

So good. I love how easy it is for you to write a story (or three) about a grown man, but then every once and a while you just decide to switch to a young boy. And keeping the young boy and the grown man the same person, even though there is an age and understanding difference, it is amazing to see. TD and LSG are both great writers, and I love their work, but I feel that yours is somehow different. Better almost in some ways.

Anyways, great job once again, so glad you are doing these interludes that give us a bit of a look into Karmack's past.

Thanks Taegin!  I don't know if I'd say there's anything better...  Different maybe.  :-)

You'll understand why this is relevant soon.  Its a seriously important part of Karmack's development, though.  The Jedi always seemed to have a problem with anger, fear, rage and hatred because they can easily lead you down a dark path.   Their solution was to cut them off.  And then to cut off any of the myriad of entanglements that might lead to them.  But you can't avoid those entanglements if you're alive.  And so they inevitably lost friends, or faced an injustice that could not be corrected.  Which led them to personal pain, anger, fear, sorrow, hatred, rage...  And into the dark.  Anakin Skywalker, repeated over and over.

The Mak'Tor have a very different philosophy.  One they would say was given to them millenia ago by a direct revelation from the Maker Himself.  Seems to work pretty well.  Not that its easy.  But having a tradition of not embracing vengeance and forgiving your enemies for the hurt they do to you, while also pursuing justice and trying very hard to prevent Evil, represents their ultimate form of balance.

Whew!  Sorry, I didn't mean to wax so philosophical!  Glad you enjoyed the interlude!

No problem. I get a bit philosophical when thinking about these stories on my own. To me, the Mak'Tor's view of the Force makes much more sense to me than that which is portrayed in the movies and tv shows. In the movies all we really know is that midi-chlorians play some role, and that it's energy surrounds us and binds the galaxy together. From what you have written, we see that the reason for this is that there is a "Maker" that controls all, and has a plan for all. That combined with the knowledge from the movies gives us an understanding of what the Force is. It isn't "mystical", it is more of something "divine". Though from the limited view of the Jedi, it could seem as something mystical.

Good stuff, can't wait to see how this all ties in to coming chapters.

Thanks.  That's the view I am hoping to express.  Just don't tell the Jedi, they might decide I am a heretic and come after me...  LOL

Not quite, the girl you thought Kiraea's story would be about, and got right with the Master Interlude!

".  No!  Kill them all?  Kill the Kage?  Master Chillum?  Mom?  I felt myself teatering on a knife-edge..."

A blunt Sith would say do it!! Enjoy it if it makes you feel good.
A smarter Sith would bury that hatred deep down and wait for the right time to unleash that hatred upon them after using everything they have first.
 
An interesting facet of Karmacks personality...will it resurface I wonder...and upon whom...

I believe we all have the killer inside of us.  We just choose whether or not to release him.  :-)

Outstanding Karm!  I really am interested in Karm's past.  Unfortunately for him, one of his "Trial by Fire" moments happens at a young age (I can empathize).  But I also know that such adversity can produce a stronger foundation in people...especially with a support system. Master Chillum is always a pleasure to read about and here is no different.  But it does give insight into their relationship.

TR is right: you're an amazing writer my friend!  To wit: you inspired (and speaking for myself, continue to do so for) us to begin this incredible experience!  Even better: our shared "experiment" of continuity continues to enrich this universe  :)

Superb installment Karm!

Thanks.  I love the interludes.  Its a great place to explore...

One of the key concepts of life is that of love and hate.  Most of us use these words very lightly, and few of us ever even bother to find out what they mean.

One key to my "Gray" concept is that the Mak'Tor do not hate people.  But they do hate evil.  Or perhaps a better way to say it is they have a passionate, intense dislike for wickedness.  But then you have to get into what "wickedness" is...    I'm sure Karmack and Valens wouldn't necessarily agree on how to define "wicked".

And that would be the rub. 

Valens wouldn't waste his time defining wickedness...to him it would be aimless pontificating...either you're helping his people or you are not...and if you're not...would be interesting to see how Karmack would react to someone with absolutely no interest in defining the galaxy into good or evil.

The problem with hating evil is that what is evil differs by time, place , culture, situation and point of view...its malleable...but that very variety provides lots of fodder for Mak'Tor story lines...it would be fascinating to see two Mak'tor interpreting the same ambiguous event is completely different ways for example.

That's a good point.  I haven't revealed this yet in story, but the Mak'Tor have a holy text, the "Book of the Way", extremely ancient and they view it the way a Christian would view the Bible or a Karite Jew views the Torah and Talmud - the inspired, infallible Word of God, or in Mak'Tor terms - the Way of the Singer.  As you can imagine, singing is intregal to their worship.  :-)

But what do you do when something treads into the "gray" area....  You'd think Gray Jedi would be all about that.  LOL

Might have to explore that...  I wonder if Karmack and Zearic agree on what constitutes "Evil"....  Or how Zearic might react to finding out Julwynn (Hri) Kohl is on M'Tzigon under Mak'Tor protection... 

Hmm....

Interlude: Awakening...   (Follows the story "Wind Chimes")

The last plug was in place and I began the download.  All of the bench tests passed, and everything looked right, but there was always a chance of data transmission error...
The upload completed and the boot computer beeped:  [UPLOAD COMPLETE.  PRESS TO INITIATE REBOOT AND RESTART]

I tapped the screen and there was a hum, then the screen went blank.  Control had been transferred to the on-board logic matrix.

For a long space of time, nothing happened.  Just long enough for me to wonder what went wrong, to reach for a diagnostic computer padd...

Powerup!   The hum was unmistakable.  The astromech's systems came online one by one, servos whining and actuators humming as each system came up and went through its initial boot-up routines.  Finally, after a spin of the sensor dome, everything stopped and a series of tell-tales on the still-connected boot computer went from amber to green. 

The droid was online...  "Two?"

The dome turned, bringing the droid's "eye" around to look at me.  There was no other movement or sound.

"Two, you OK?  System checks look good..."

Finally there was a sound.  Two tweeted a series of high-pitched twills, followed by a rude-sounding string of low-pitched beeps and bops.  Two was back!  Yes, its a new body!  Sorry, the old one was kind of unavailable."

Two twittered back then stopped as I slid a file to him.  I hadn't wanted it in the original upload, since it could  be a shock to have imagry of your own dead body already in your memory when you woke up.  Two scanned the file, letting out nothing but a low whistle as he looked it over.

"So, no.  I couldn't salvage anything.  Sorry.  Besides, there's a few things in this one you may like.  Check out the internal schematic."

Two clicked and whirred as his active memory, what we would think of as his 'awareness', scanned his internal schematic files and status reports.  With a happy whistle he suddenly popped out the small jets we'd built back in, restoring his flight capabilities lost on Coruscant, but that outburst was nothing compared to the sudden hooting that erupted next.  Rocking on his legs with sudden joy Two popped open a new compartment and extended a song-steel manipulator arm.  The snap-hiss that followed was unmistakable...

Two held a lightsaber, ignited and shining a feint, pale blue.  Excitedly he swung it around, twittering in rapid sequence.

"No, Two, this does NOT mean you are a Knight!  No, you cannot participate in the Knighting ceremony!  Yes, you can keep it!  No, I am NOT going to build a larger version for your DCC!"  I laughed as Two closed down the saber and stowed the arm, heading out of the cybernetics lab toward the Wayfarer and his companions to display his new body part.  I watched him go, then thought back to what I'd just seen.

Blue?  I could have sworn that was  a pure silver kyber crystal...

I love it. Two has a Lightsaber. Possibly the first droid to wield one. But now I'm curious, why is the saber blue? I have a feeling that that will be important in stories to come.

Indeed, maybe its just reflecting his personality...
Poor two though, he seems to get blown up every story! It's like a Mak'Tor Tradition!

Lol good point!

Just like it's a tradition that Gray Jedi lose a limb (or two...)  ;)

Good question TR!

LOL  I didn't really think about it before but you're right.  The Mak'Tor are hard on their droids.  Figures they'd have a "bootstrap protocol".  LOL

And the reason his saber is blue is...

*grin*

This story occurs approximately two weeks after the events of Shadow Etude Chapter 14/ Wind Chimes Chapter 16 Contrapasso

Light and pain.

Pain and light.

That was all she knew…the suddenness of it took her by surprise.  Rocks...pain...enemies…the flapping scraps of her limbs and flesh flopping, squelching beneath the rubble.

Her thoughts slowly trickled backward to try and work out where she was…she had been here before, broken, shattered, crushed…

The light dimmed as something moved past it, black…a mask…Vader…she had been here before…yet it wasn’t right…Vader was dead…so who…

The pain subsided…it fell, fell, fell…then turned into a blissful emptiness that went up, up and up her body, soaking her mind into a pool of vacant artificial pleasure….
************************************************************************************
She blinked as she came out of the dreamless depths, her toes were cold, she raised her right hand to sweep her hair from her face…

Wait…everything about those actions seemed wrong…she remembered…D’Aylanna had cut off her hand, her leg…her hair was long since ravaged by time and injury even before then.

She sat bolt upright with newfound strength to stare into a mirror.  It was like looking into a time warp…she was…whole again…she pressed at her face, her skin renewed and blue…vibrant…young even…she looked at her right hand, trembling she bit her thumb just to see…it bled…it wasn’t a cybernetic replacement…how?

“The Force as you call it,” came an empty voice from nowhere and everywhere at once.  She looked around her, it was a small room, clinical and white, just a bed, the mirror and a small refresher right beside it…

“Who…where am I?” she asked reasserting her sense of self that still seemed all too liquid.

No response…she looked around then unsteadily came to her feet, the room was all of nine paces square, a small window looked out on bright stars and deep black pits…similar to the night sky she had seen on Byss between the green clouds atop the Imperial Administrative Centre….She was in the Deep Core…but that was of little help it was a huge place in itself and impossible to navigate within. 

She stretched out with the force…trying to senses the size of the…that wasn’t right…vacuum…just beyond the wall behind her…the wall beside her, the ceiling, the floor…the stars moved…too slowly…an orbit…she was in a square box orbiting some unknown world – a prison…

No she would not fall into despair she was Darth Mendax, reborn from the scraps of the weakling Gaetana once and now once more, she would assert her power over this situation and rise again.

“No,” the voice returned, hollow, genderless, like a droid only with less substance if that were possible, “You won’t”
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OK, that's just not fair!  Some people you JUST CAN'T KILL!!!!!!!  :-)

*sigh*  Well.   Um, can we just rename her "Darth Penny", since she keep turning up?????

She is like Murdoch or Moriarty. Dies all the time, but is she ever really dead?

-----------------------------------------
“But one fact has always remained constant: The Chiss must be approached from a position of strength and respect. One must have strength, for the Chiss will deal only with those capable of keeping their promises. One must have respect, for the Chiss must believe that those promises will be kept." Grand Admiral Thrawn
---------------------------------------

“So what do you think?” Seeraw’Wassan’Nuruodo asked his fingers pressed against each other over the desk as the blue lights on the glacier walls hummed behind him.

“He asks for a substantial amount of resources,” replied Trwann’setarra’Csapla, the current head of the ruling Csapla household.  The other heads of the Ascendancies ruling houses had deferred their judgement to the two of them, Wassan head of the Nuruodo and Military and foreign affair, Csapla resource management and colonial affairs.

“He has shown the ability to deliver,” Wassan fingered the data drive, his technicians had checked and his intelligence operatives confirmed a random sample of 5% of the vast store of Jedi intelligence was accurate – or at least so far as an intelligence could be considered accurate - and this was only the beginning.

“In that regard…my geologists were extremely impressed by the samples he provided…but without a full scale investigation we won’t know if the deposits he claims exists…it is a mammoth investment just to check….” Csapla replied,

“He did provide you with the navigational routes….” Wassan countered

“That is the problem…navigating through the Deep core…I’m surprised you’d trust it, he could easily put you off by a billionth of a degree and land you in a Binary neutron…”

“That is what probes are for…”

Csapla shook his head, “It just seems too strange…a Jedi wanders onto Csilla, offers us all the Credits and Jedi intelligence we could dream of, gives us samples minerals with unimaginable properties we’ve never heard of…and in exchange just wants us to help terraform a blasted world and industrialise the rest of the system…”

“It might seem too good to be true in a way…but I tend to trust him…he has a look of sincerity…a genuine passion for what he’s doing…”

Csapla laughed lounging back into his chair,
“Yes him and every other itinerant preacher and Holy man!”

“My point is…” Wassan leaned forward,

“He came to us with something to offer, from a position of strength, he had taken the time to learn our customs relating to outsiders, and the decency to be open about his betrayal of the Jedi order to achieve his aims…I don’t think we should ignore this opportunity…the potential gains…a dramatically increase intelligence foothold in the Republic, technology, unique resources, hyperspace lanes through the deep core…I’m willing to put a little skin in the game to confirm his story for the chance to get that.”

“Did he do a mind trick on you?” Csapla looked at him oddly,

“I’ve never met the man in person,” So far the Jedi had been confined to the cruiser Asstradda in orbit over Csilla, all communication between him and the Ascendancy ruling council occurred through three layers of the hierarchy. 

“He’s not asking for anything we don’t already do for our own colonies, terraforming, establishing automated mines and factories…we have the resources and expertise he needs to repair his system…he has the intelligence and Credits we need to finally get more than just third-hand spacers tales of what is happening in the Republic.”

Csapla waved his hands in defeat, “Fine…I’ll give you this…one chance, have the Jedi talk to us directly, I want to ask him somethings,”

Wassan nodded and keyed his terminal issuing the orders through the CEDF.  Csapla poured a glace of ice cold water as they waited for the orders to filter down then back up – control and hierarchy were essential and deserved tim to function.

“Sir”, the face of the Asstradda’s captain appeared at the centre of the table,

“The prisoner,”

Wassan nodded and the picture went blank then was replaced with the human Jedi, short brown hair, clean shaven, young, 25, a serious expression if he could read humans correctly. 

“Knight Valens of the Jedi Order, I represent House Nuruodo, my companion House Csapla, we wish to question you further on your unsolicited proposal,”

The Jedi nodded gravely but remained silent, respectful, but also wary, he could understand that.

“Jedi…” Csapla mused, “Can you be called that if you are willing to betray them?”

Valens remained level in his stare, “Betrayal is your word, Jedi intelligence is offered freely to all knights to use as they see fit, I see fit that I should offer it to you for personal gain, I am breaching no rules, only unspoken convention,”

Wassan had to smile at his candour,

“You don’t consider that as Treason against the Republic?” Csapla pressed,

“The Jedi are not the Republic, nor are the Jedi or Republic a Monolith, in addition the Chiss are not in a state or war or aggression against the Republic, they are not even classed as a foreign power given they are unknown to the Republic officially.  At any rate with no military the Republic has no military or security secrets to be betrayed.” 

There was a ferocious logic to his statements he knew Csapla could not deny,

“Hrmph…very well tell me this, why come to us with this request, why not the Jedi or a Republic world?”

“I am making deals with corporations in the Republic for specific items, but no one has the capacity to terraform and modernise a system as quickly as your Colonisation program does, in addition no one but the Chiss are as consistent in the quality of their work and honour in keeping promises,”

“Flattery…” Csapla sneered

“Accuracy” Valens replied,

“Why would we want to help you, whose to say you won’t turn on us as soon as we’re done?” Csapla went on, Wassan could tell he was grasping at straws,

“It is not in my interest…We are both insular societies, we value our own kind above all else, and are satisfied with a small region of well-developed systems cut off from the galaxy at large.  We are natural allies, or simply trade partners at the lowest level, we both stand to gain immensely from this arrangement, if in no other way then from he innovation the interaction of two distinct cultures can bring.”

He spoke well…perhaps too well…Wassan thought

“You’re culture, which currently consists of just you?” Csapla taunted,

“For now…Even so, if nothing comes of my plans you only stand to gain, if my people become extinct you obtain a developed system in the deep core, the means to navigate there, unique minerals and resources, vast sums of credits to buy influence in the Republic and data on Jedi operations.  If I succeed, you gain the last four items and an alliance with a race of Force sensitive warriors who will – I assure you of this – be very helpful during future expansionary wars you conduct,”

He blinked for what Wassan was certain was the first time this whole transmission,

“I know you have your eyes on Killik Space…you will need Force sensitive soldiers to succeed there,”

Csapla jumped up, “How do you….” Their plans for Killik territory were part of a long term planning document that outlined colonisation and military strategy for the next three centuries…it WAS the most highly classified document in the entire Ascendancy, only the heads of the families and their immediate successors were to have access to the entirety of it…even small sections were viewed only by the highest level officers, Admiralty and above.

Wassan stood, “Easy Csapla…the Jedi has shown us just now how potent a Force sensitive individual not restrained by the Jedi code can be I think…”

Valens remained impassive, as Csapla finally sat down,

“Alright…alright…” it was unseemly for th head of a family to be so agitated Wassan thought as Csapla spoke,

“You’ve shown your worth ‘Jedi’, I’ll agree to this…we will send our scouts to the locations you identified as having the highest mineral concentrations…if they check out…we can begin formal drafting of a contract,”

Wassan smiled, confident this deal would soon be struck, and turned to the holo, “Thank you for you time Jedi Valens,”

Valens nodded, “Thank you for your consideration and hospitality,”

As the Holo faded, Wassan knew a brilliant future had just dawned.

Oh...   The Chiss???   Nicely played!  That explains a lot of how they're going to redevelop Vyth and provide for their tech needs.  Nice!

Slowly the Aethans start to flesh out a bit...  You've clearly put a LOT of thought into this!  My Mak'Tor are skeletal compared to this!  Love it, LSG!

One character note: Valens comes across more and more like a Vulcan...  And Jayrs (sp?) is his Romulan twin...  :-)

He does a bit...but he plays to the tastes of the crowd, I don't think anyone Sees his true self...yet...

That makes sense.  The Chiss and Vulcans would have gotten along nicely, I think...

And that's probably true as well.  This guy is DRIVEN.  That iron control is clamped down for a reason...  :-)

** Reconstruction **

I watch the padawans with the ghost of a smile on my face.  The crystal cave is a wonder, a massive water-hewn chasm in the mountain where a high water basin catastrophically drained through the rock in the ancient past.  The wind-swept plateau above is where the Mak'Tor temple arose, centered over the force nexus the cave became below.  But down  here...

Down here was magic...

The walls are studded with crystals.  The rock is alive with kyber here, a massive crystal pocket filled with all kinds of crystals but liberally sprinkled with kyber.  Generations of Mak'Tor knights had pulled saber crystals from this cavern.  More had come just to feel ... and listen ...

The chorus of song swirled magestically around me, filling the cavern with music in the force.  The might fanfare was awesome and inspiring, filled with the story of the Mak'Tor, pain and joy, defeat and victory, agony and esctacy.  The crystals, lit with an internal fire, shone with the light of the song, clear white, pulsing in time to the never-ending music.  It was beauty ... in the dark.  And altogether glorious.

I closed my eyes and joined the song, singing along, relishing my small part in the mighty orchestra of the force.  After a time the song recedes, retreating into a softer, deeper pastoral chord progression.  I open my eyes, and I see it happen: A padawan, concentrating, head suddenly tilting to the side...  Her eyes snap open and she focuses on the one.  The crystal that would become hers, power her lightsaber.  Be her companion...

I feel a stab of pain.  Where are you, old friend?   My eyes widen as I hear the familiar chime in response.   I hear you!  Now it is my turn to tilt my head, orient my mind, listen... 

There.  Dantooine...   I drew back, realized I had been humming.  I stopped for a moment, considered the motif.  Where did that come from?  I hummed a bit again, very quiet, and then it connected: The Ancient One had chimed it!  The crystal had ... taught me a motif!

I shook my head, felt my eyes go wide in amazement.  No, not the crystal.  One of the 'inhabitants'...  They want to be found.  I stopped humming and thought hard.  Dantooine was on the opposite side of the galaxy from Geonosis, but it was close to where Telow'na said the Imperial remnants were gathering.  So it was likely that Mellichae had gone there looking for allies.  And finding them, no doubt.  So now I knew where he was...  I concentrated, used a motif Arnor and I had developed to communicate over distance and tossed back a thought: Soon.  I am coming soon.

I heard a very faint chime in reply, then the Ancient One faded out, lost in the deep orchestra of the universe's chorus.  I relaxed, enjoyed the peace for a few moments longer, then rose and left, noting another young padawan - a male with shockingly white hair  - suddenly cry out with joy and dart for another crystal pulsing in the wall.  The saber lab would be busy this afternoon...

Best get there early.

*****

The chassis was standard, no different than my previous sabers with one exception: It was 30% longer and I had packed in a high-density power cell and done some serious work fitting in all the control mechanisms and focusing lenses and other necessary equipment.   And finally ... two of the pontite Adegan crystals I'd captured on Geonosis - and captured to my chorus.  Two power switches, two emitter assemblies, one longer hilt...

A saber staff.  And since it was a staff, the hilt's sheath was not brushed nickel but brushed finish songsteel, with the same thickness as our standard body armor.  I guided the crystals into place, using the force to make the final power connections and jiggle the crystals into place.  There, that should do it...

I stood, stretched, and then ignited the blades, swinging it through a modified Soresu Dulan.  The flow was easy and smooth, the blades bright yellow and pulsing with my battle song...

I retracted the second blade and slid another switch with my thumb, and the primary blade reconfigured, extending from the shorter twin-blade length I favored to the full length blade of a single hilt.  I repeated the pattern, feeling the flow and rhythm.

Oh yes.  This will do nicely...

I felt a pang again, smaller but bitter-sweet.  I had never gone into battle without the Ancient One at my side.  This would be the first time.  But this was a rescue mission, and you need a weapon to conduct a rescue.  Besides ... I had a score to settle with the Zabrek...

Soon, my friend.  Soon...

For LSG's Interludes

I LOVE what you did with Mendax!  A true resurrection: her body being restored, just perfect.  Although I think that her "benefactors" might be even more dangerous than the Ferroan Sith  ;)

Excellent use of the Chiss Ascendency.  That was always one facet of the EU books that I think enriched the SW universe: Zahn's Thrawn and the Chiss.  Your attention to detail is incredible LSG: from Chiss names to their idiosyncrasies, maybe you should write the next book on the Unknown Regions  ;).  Still, I think that there is more to Valen' end game...

For Karm's Interlude

Nice saberstaff!  Mellichae is going to find out that "having" is not the same as "wanting."  I have to say Karm: M'Tzigon sure sounds idyllic, maybe a great place to vacation  ;). Wonderful Interlude; I'd like to see more like this  :)

Interlude-The Zabrak’s Tale and a Master’s Lesson (Takes place after Shadow Etude: Epilogue)

Sweat poured from my brow, my short brown hair soaked through.  Trying to see, I kept my lightsabers at the ready, my shoto in the Shien reverse grip.  Before I was able to recover from the Zabrak’s last attack, his saberstaff was a flurry of motion, his form immaculate, flowing against my defenses hard.  It takes all of my skill in order to keep his blades from striking.  But even as he moves, so too do I.  My movement is fluid, temporary, adaptable.  As I defend, I set up my next attack, flowing from my center, always in motion.  My main blade’s cut stops short, the Zabrak’s saberstaff an impenetrable wall.  Again I flow, this time in retreat achieving my center.  Not an actual “position,” but rather one of “self” and the potency that it delivers.

Simultaneously, I call forth a torrent of rocks, stones, and dirt, creating an obfuscating vortex that temporarily blinds my opponent.  Pressing advantage, I eschew defense completely, attacking with both main and shoto lightsabers, my lightning quick strikes battering against the Zabrak’s saberstaff.  But his Soresu is without equal; even as he seemingly loses ground, I can tell that he’s recovered from the distraction.  His eyes suddenly open, scrutinizing his surroundings while concurrently focusing on any exploits in my saberwork.  He smiles, the red and black face adopting a wicked grin.  Again his saberstaff is in motion, the weapon striking hard again in rhythm with his Form.  And like that, I’m forced to the defensive.  And I know that I cannot defeat him—not this opponent—by defending.

Before his saberstaff can stab my leg, I see an opening, forcing the blade of my main lightsaber low, drawing his blade in a high orbit. I’ve got him… I smiled to myself as I cut with my shoto at his exposed side…only too late noticing the softness of his lower blade’s resistance.  My eyes widen in surprise as I stare into his, hazel to his silver-blue.  I immediately recognize my mistake: I’d been lulled into expecting the Zabrak to renew his Soresu.  Instead, he switched to a passive Niman variant, tangling my lightsabers within his blades but leaving me completely open to the Force Push that propelled me across the room.  Backflipping at the last minute, I was able to recover before I crashed into the far wall.  But the Zabrak was already upon me.

His first saber strike disarmed me of my main lightsaber.  Even before the hilt had fully left my hand, he spun his saberstaff, locking my shoto to my side, ineffective and useless.  And on the same orbit, his blade struck my head at the neck.  Closing my eyes, I could not help but smile.

“Now you’re dead, Zearic.” The Zabrak’s smile transformed his devilish visage, the good humor of his voice reflected in his ice-blue eyes.  “But I am impressed with your Water Forms!  Pranay must be working you hard if you say that you’d only recently achieved the ‘Waterfall of Balance.’  It’s been quite some time since I’ve faced a Water Warrior in contest against me, but you do yourself—and Pranay Torsin—credit.”  He raised his saberstaff in salute, an easy smile upon his face lit by his dual blue blades.

“Thank you, sir.”  I bowed deeply, truly honored to have this opportunity.  “Kage Silman, how did you anticipate my riposte?  I felt the softness of your low blade; you knew that I intended a high strike.”  The Zabrak closed down his practice weapon, replacing it within the display case on the wall.  I likewise followed suit, thanking the Mak’Tor battlemaster for lending me some of his practice sabers for the exercise.  We walked towards the lockers on the adjacent wall, the beautiful trompe-l'œil of the Mak’Tor arrival on M’Tzigon done in low relief upon the ferrocrete.

“Ah, that.”  Kage Silman’s smile became a full-blown grin.  “I’m afraid that I have a secret to admit to.  You see, I know Pranay’s emphasis on which Water Forms he teaches.  I grant you: it took me the better part of our battle to finally decipher which Forms you favored.  Well done that, Zearic.  But, alas, I noticed that you tend towards expectation in the ‘hard guard.’”  The Zabrak laughed.  “Pranay always did have trouble with preconceived notions concerning certain defenses.”  We stopped in front of the lockers, my hand unlocking the biometric lock.

Amazed, I could not help but laugh.  Here I was listening to critique about my own Nexu Master…from his Nexu Master.  Kage Silman continued, “But you do yourself honor: that is not as obvious in your own saberwork.  In fact, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Pranay promoted you upon your next Testing within the Nexu Halls.”  The kindly words held incalculable weight, coming from Kage Silman.  Before withdrawing the contents of my locker, I bowed deeply to the Zabrak Kage.

“Thank you, sir.  I cannot express my gratitude and just what your compliments mean to me, Kage.”  And donning my robes, I looked back at the Zabrak.  For a split-second, Kage Silman’s face looked impassive.  Then laughter and mirth overcame his entire demeanor.

“Yep.  You’re one of Pranay’s students.  Please Zearic, we Mak’Tor are not so much about formality, pomp and circumstance.”  His smile softened.  “But you are most welcome, maenowan...”

Slowly, his voice trailed off, his eyes intent on the contents of the locker that I withdrew.  Kage Silman did not raise either his voice or head but I could tell that his entire focus was directed at me.  “Zearic.  Where did you get that knife?”

Looking down, I hadn’t realized that I had exposed the dagger when taking it out.  As with all times, the light around the black surface seemed to dim, as if being absorbed by the stone itself.  Myself inquisitive, I related the tale of our battle within the crevasses of the Canticum Lowlands and how I’d found it among Jennira’s things surrounding her throne.  “Why do you ask, Kage?”

At first the muscular Zabrak didn’t answer.  Then, gently grabbing my shoulder, he directed that I put the weapon away in the sheath behind my belt while he led me out of the practice theater and towards one of the adjoining Gardens.  As we continued walking among the tranquil fauna, I got the impression that Kage Silman was looking for a private place devoid of any other Jedi.  Patiently, I walked beside him until we came to a pergola heavy with rare silver grapes.  Casually looking around both of my shoulders, the Zabrak Kage continued.

“On Dathomir, there are…stories that the Zabrak males tell one another.  You see, we’re a matriarchal society, males are viewed as little more than tools to be used…or exploited.”  His voice grew quiet.  “But rumors do still persist.  The Clan Mothers—it is said—took direction from the highest on high, stylized the Pyth’N’ssam, the…Nightsister Queen, if you will.”  Kage Silman’s eyes stared straight into mine.  “One of the devices of the…'office,' was a black stone dagger, the Tenebris Pugione.”  He paused meaningfully.

“…And you think that this dagger—” I gestured at the sheathed weapon behind my belt, “—is one and the same?”  I folded my arms across my chest while the Zabrak looked contemplative.

“Honestly?  I do not know.”  He suddenly looked intent.  “However, the knife was more than just an affectation of power.  Have you noticed any…”  For a moment the Zabrak Kage looked at a loss for words.  But then, “…Vitality.  Have you been in a situation where you suddenly—and inexplicably—felt inundated with vigor?”  He closed his eyes.  “No, that’s not quite correct.”  He looked at me from beneath his black and red brow.  “Tell me Zearic: have you found yourself feeling…a…wellspring of strength?”

Slowly, I shook my head.  “No, Kage.  Not that I can remember…”  Had I?  Looking back…was it possible?  But after what Karm and, later, the Singers had done with their Healing, would I be able to discern the difference?  My brows drew together in thought.  And then...

“…Yes…” I spoke haltingly at first, talking faster as I went.  “I…when Jennira’s Sith-Shadows first attacked Karm and I.  There were literally dozens of them.  Yet, not once, did I feel fatigue.  Instead, I mowed them down.”  I looked directly into Kage Silman’s eyes.  “I thought that it was due to Karm’s battle-Song…or that my armor was protecting me—I’m sure that those did help—but, now upon retrospect, I had just attributed it to adrenaline or the Force.”  I closed my eyes in memory.  “But even then I noticed that I felt unstoppable.  No, I was unstoppable.”

I felt the Kage’s hand upon my shoulder.  “Zearic…if—if—this dagger is the Tenebris Pugione, I would be…reticent in using it.  It is an evil artifact.”  Sympathy filled his silver-blue eyes.  “The Clan Mothers would constantly war upon one another in order to gain position and, by consequence, the knife.  The position of Pyth’N’ssam is drenched in the blood of countless victims, willing and not.”  He sighed.  “I am not your Kage, nor would I presume to tell you what to do but, Water Warrior to Water Warrior, be very—very—careful with that weapon.”  Then, suddenly smiling, he started walking, gently guiding me further into the Concordia Gardens.  “Let me tell you about the time that I had a bet with Pranay about Du’an Chillum…”

            <<<<< >>>>>

“…Master Chillum?” Jorya thought she’d misheard the venerable Gray Jedi Master.  “…You want for me to…attack you?”  She and Master Chillum were alone in one of the Training Rooms.

His wrinkled face held a smile but his eyes…his eyes were almost…predatory.  “Yes, lass.  I want for you to try to Push me, preferably, the further, the better.”

Jorya blinked.  “…But Master…I don’t want…” She wasn’t quite sure how to continue.

“…For me to be too rough on you, lass?”  Again, his sharp, hazel eyes gleamed.  “Don’t you worry; I know how to be gentle to juvenile Gray Knights.”  He winked.

Again, she felt the anger, irrational as it was.  Breathe.  Balance.  Like Father taught me… she thought.  “…No Master Chillum.  I’m not worried about that.  I just don’t want—“

“—To lose to an old man, lass?” He was no longer smiling; in fact, he looked…disappointed.  “Knight Fah, do you really think so little of me?”  The silence hung in the air.  

Rage began to flare.  How dare… Her jaw worked but no sound came from her mouth.  OK…I will show you… Resolute, she said, “Not at all Master.  But I don’t want for my parents to be angry with me if I accidently hurt you.”  Mentally, she readied herself.

Master Chillum smiled.  “Good lass, good.  That’s what I wanted to see.”  Contrasting his serious tone, his posture was casual, unconcerned.  “Now.  Show me what you’ve got.”

As soon as the words were from his mouth, Jorya gave a mighty Force Push, having collected herself prior.  Her father had told her that she was more powerful than he was at her age, closer to her Mother’s potential.  All of this went through her mind a split second after she’d projected the potent Push.  Wait…no! The rational part of her finally caught up to her anger.  But it was too late.

Almost nonchalantly, Master Chillum brushed the attack aside.  …How…? Jorya looked stunned, her mouth agape.  Even her Mother had never done something so…

“Come on, lass.  Surely, you can do better than that…” His voice was quiet, almost bored.

Again, the anger.  Balling her hands into fists, she closed her eyes.  She felt the Force flow, from below her feet, from the planet itself, upwards through her legs, into her body, into her entire being.  She’d never held so much of the Force before.  Surely Master Chillum must sense—must see—what this much power could do…

“Hmph.  Lass, I thought you were serious.  Clearly, the Vhal-Dan made a mistake Knighting you.  If you were mine, you’d still be a teidowan.”  Master Chillum’s voice was soft, calm.  He could have been speaking about trade negotiations for all of the passion in his voice.  It caused to infuriate her.  She didn’t even need to strike, only release the power…

It was incredible in its destructive potential, her Force Push would have plowed through twenty…no, thirty Sith-Shadows, bowling them over as effortlessly as a hot knife through butter…

The Gray Master again brushed aside her effort.  And quietly, he said something that pierced right through her.  “Hmph.  Lass, you should return to Sekot.  You’ll only let your parents down when they need you the most.”

All rational thought left faster than a pod-racer in the final lap.  Rage—fear—took hold of her and she struck out blindly.  Master Chillum stood unaffected.  Again and again, she threw all that she had at him only for him to deflect them.  She felt anger.  She felt fear.  She felt…impotent.  And as soon as the thought came, unbidden, she collapsed to her knees, tears that she had forced down—denied—came forth like a dam bursting.

“Now, now lass.” She felt a gentle hand upon her head, softly stroking her montrals.  “I know lass.  I know.”  Master Chillum’s voice was full of compassion.  “You’ll not let them down, lass.  Never that.”  Each soft stroke of his hand helped to alleviate the dread, the sorrow.

“…I…I am so sorry Master!”  She began to cry anew.  “I…I felt anger…no rage!  I…am so, so sorry…” Sobs racked her body.  And still, calmly, Master Chillum continued to softly stroke her head, comforting her.  

After a time, she felt drained but…relieved.  The outburst, the tears, the honesty had been cathartic.  She looked up at the old man, his intelligent eyes full of sympathy.  Slowly, he wiped her tears.  “Lass, it’s alright.  Although…I think we’ll have to get a janitor or two in here…”

And, looking around, she finally noticed the state of the room.  It looked as if a thermal detonator had exploded.  By the Maker…! She thought.  “Oh…oh Master!  Please…I am so sorry!” Her renewed apologies were interrupted by the last thing that she expected to hear, utterly shocking her into silence.

Du’an Chillum, Master of Song, senior member of the Council of Balance of the Mak’Tor Gray Jedi, laughed.  No, howled.  Full-bellied laughter shook through him, infecting Jorya.  Before she knew it, she herself was taken in by his humor, her own laughs echoing throughout the ruined Training Room.

Slowly, they both quieted, slight guffaws escaping now and again.  “Oh my, lass.  I am reminded of the last time that this happened.”

Lightly laughing, Jorya said, “So this happens a lot Master?”  Her blue eyes squinted in humor.

Smiling broadly, fondly, and in remembrance, Master Chillum’s eyes lost focus, thinking of the past.  “Aye, lass, aye.  A young teidowan.  Good lad…” His voice suddenly quieted.  “Brave, good lad…”

His eyes refocused, his attention full on Jorya as he sobered suddenly.  “Now lass.  What did I do?”

Caught off-guard, Jorya stuttered, “…D-do?  S-sorry Master…?”  She looked confused.  “I’m sorry Master; I don’t know…”

Gently, a smile again fixed on his mouth, Master Chillum patiently asked, “What did I do to defeat your attacks?”  At a loss, Jorya shook her head, eyes intent on the old Gray Master.  “Lass, I didn’t have to stand against your power, I only needed to redirect it.  The more you tried to project, the easier I could deflect it, using only a fraction of what you yourself were using.”  She was nodding even as he was explaining.  “You see lass, you don’t always have to confront something head-on.  Sometimes, it’s best to re-channel those energies, conserving your own in the process.”

He helped Jorya to her feet.  “Aye, remember lass: you don’t have to be stopped by fear.  You can…avert it.  Use it.  And, ultimately, allow it to empower you.”  Master Chillum’s eyes adopted a raptor-like focus.  “You’re strong, lass.  Not because you overpower your fear but because you can harness it.  Remember: give unto the Maker your fear; let Him to His job.”  His eyes softened, as did his entire demeanor.  “Your parents are proud of you, lass.  As am I.  Always remember that.”

Tears still in her eyes, Jorya threw her arms around the old Master’s neck, a small laugh punctuating her gratitude.  “Thank you, Master Chillum.  Thank you so much…”

Closing his eyes, he continued to stroke her montrals.  “Aye lass… ‘Tis alright…’tis alright…”

            <<<<< >>>>>

D’Aylanna sat at the holocom, the unit pinging as it awaited her IdentCode.  Keying it in, a disembodied head emerged in the air, the hologram grainy and of somewhat poor quality as a result of the distance.

“Master Gray D’Aylanna Vih’Torr.” The face in the hologram was more handsome than beautiful, the light blue skin smooth, the orange eyes rare among Ferroans.

“Kage Oyuna Chand’n.” D’Aylanna nodded.  “I take it you’ve reviewed my After-Action Report?”  The diminuative Hapan woman had adopted a more casual tone after exchanging pleasantries.

“Yes I have, D’Aylanna.  But that is not the purpose of this call.”  The Kage’s face looked pensive.  “The Council has received disturbing reports emanating from Hutt Space.”

If D’Aylanna was surprised, she hid it well.  “Yes?  Reports of what nature?”

The Kage’s orange eyes looked enigmatic, her tone conspiratorial.  “Tell me, D’Aylanna: have you heard about the Sons of Kessel?”

Nice one! I like Master Chillum's lesson.  That was well written and well thought out.  And very much in character for Chillum.  :-)

Really good Dutchman, loved the 'Tenebris Pugione" name!  just genius, and the back story...makes you wonder where those Night Sister got it from originally though....And the training session was good too, Zearic is improving a lot it seems with his water forms, still a bit to learn though.

The Jorya Chillum section was excellant, one of the best bits you've written in my opinion, took two usually unrelated characters together in a way that really emphasized both their key traits, Jorya determined but still young and unsure (not unlike another character floating around 600 years earlier) and Chillum providing the guiding hand she needs but keeping it about her learning about herself not just a rote lesson. 

*** Dawn of a Knight ***

The Mak'Tor Shrine literally glistened for the assembly.  Volunteers and attendants had scrubbed the native stone, imparting a shine to the polished granite that highlighted the sparkle of the embedded crystals.  I felt a small thrill run through me at the sight.  It brought back memories.  Good memories.

But tonight wasn't about me at all.  It was about the young man standing next to me.  "Relax, Ken.  Breathe."

Ken chuckled.  "Yeah, easy for you to say."  He dipped his head toward the gathered Knights.  "You know most of these people.  You're one of them, even out-rank most of them.  Who am I?"

I turned and faced him, grasping his shoulders and turning him to face me.  "You, young man, are a strong and talented young Teidowan who has done remarkable things.  You've passed the Trials and stood in the face of evil.  You've sacrificed your very life to protect and defend the innocent and those you care for.  We..." I tossed my head to make sure he understood I was including the entire assembly in my comment, not just his mother and I "...are all proud of you and honored to accept you not as a student, but as a peer."  I met his eyes, making sure he was listening.  "Are you ready?  Do you accept this honor?"

I watched as hesitation and doubt flickered briefly in his eyes, but then those emotions were banished as he made his decision.  Resolve settled and all fear and doubt disappeared.  "Yes.  I am ready, Father."

I smiled.  "Excellent.  Then lets get this show on the road, eh?"

He nodded, grinning now.  I turned and nodded to Arnor, who stood next to the Kage at the dias.  She nodded back, also smiling, and leaned over to whisper into the Kage's ear.  Kage Lo's eyes rose to the foyer where we waited, composed now, and a ghost of a grin played on his face briefly as well.  He waited a few seconds for Arnor to discretely step back and join the ranks of the Silver Koawan.  Then he stepped up to the front of the dias and made a small motion with his hands, bringing the assembly to order.  The quiet, discrete conversations that had been going on among the assembled Masters and Koawans faded and the room stilled.

"Show time..." I heard Ken mutter under his breath.  He beat me to the punch by less than a second.  I smiled slightly.

"Let the Candidate come forth!" Silman Lo's deep voice boomed across the hall.  Ken immediately stepped forward, moving at a dignified pace down the main aisle of the Sanctuary.  I fell into pace with him, a half-step behind and to the right of my son.

As we approached I noticed a few unexpected faces in the crowd.  D'Aylanna and Zearic Vihn'Tor were still on-planet and in attendance, the large man decked in his formal Water Warrior robes and rank but still totally overshadowed by the resplendent presence of his Hapan wife.  Jorya was not present: the Knighting was only open to those who had attained the rank of Koawan Gray.  I also spotted both Er'Lav Racc and L'Gan Zane.   Zane surprised me simply because she had been down with a virus and had not been sure she would be able to attend.  Racc was unexpected, however.  The Sentinel had been on a long-term cover assignment.  No one but the Kage and Telow'na Jackson knew the particulars but I was momentarily shocked by the haggered look she had.  I need to catch up with her.  Something is going on...

I filed the thought and brought my attention back to the present.  Everyone was in "dress" uniform - black pants, boots and shirts with dark gray under-robe and lighter gray over-robes.  Our rank symbols were affixed to the left breast, opposite the Mak'Tor symbol on the right.  The badges were platinum inlaid with a song-steel alloy that was a mid-night blue color.  The rank symbols were simple devices with a small crystal embedded in the center.  Guardian Knights wore sapphire blue, Healers ruby red, Counselors emerald green, and Sentinels citrine yellow.  Master Singers bore an additional carved ring of Onyx around the gem, highlighting the bright stone with a black ring, a tradition dating back to the Masters of Song mourning the loss of Kage Odjina centuries earlier.  The sight was inspiring, with over fourty of our Knights able to assemble tonight for this ceremony.

Ken made it to the dias and stopped, facing Kage Lo.  The Kage looked down at him and his face was all business, though his eyes shone.  "Teidowan Ken'a'Nia Mack, you have been tested and found worthy to join the ranks of the Knights of the Mak'Tor.  With the confirmation of the Master's College I now offer to you the rank of Koawan of the Gray.  Do you come to accept this commission?"

Ken spoke, his voice calm and clear.  "I do, Kage."

Silman allowed a slight smile to play on his face.  "Very good."  His gaze shifted to me.  "Knight Ka'A'Mack, Meanowan Master Sentinel and Master of Song, you are the Teidowan's Mentor as well as his Father.  Do you, without reservation, endorse his elevation to the rank of Koawan of the Gray?"

I stepped forward, schooling my own face into impassivity and kept my own voice steady as I answered.  "Kage, I do."

Silman nodded to me and I stepped back.  His eyes now turned to Master J'Nor Kroven, Master of Balance.  J'Nor had been in charge of Ken's passage through the Trials.  "Master Kroven, do you confirm before your peers that Teidowan Ken'A'Nia has successfully completed the Trails?"

J'Nor looked grave as she stepped forward.  "My Kage, I so confirm."

Kage Silman nodded again and turned his attention back to Ken.  "Teidowan, you have been endorsed by your Mentor and the curator of your Trials.  Present your lightsaber for inspection."

Ken reached under his outer robe to his belt and withdrew his saber hilt, handing it up to the Kage.  Silman made a show of inspecting the hilt, checking the power tell-tales and visible construction before igniting the blade.  Ken's saber came to life with the familiar snap-hiss of it's kind and settled into a steady, throaty hum in the Kage's hands.  Kage Lo gave the saber a couple of test swings, finishing with a complicated fourish before deactivating the saber.  He set the weapon on a small side table next to him and faced Ken again.  "Ken'A'Nia Mack, please kneel."

Ken swallowed and sank to his knees on the small cushion provided for him.  Kage Lo descended the dias to stand directly in front of Ken and opened his own outer robe to reveal the hilt of an anachronism: the hilt of a genuine sword riding a scabbard on his own left hip.  With a singing hiss he drew it, the Songsteel blade bright and shining in the light of the Shrine as he extended it in front of himself, the blade hovering naked several inches above Ken's head.  "Teidowan Ken'A'Nia, you are found fit to accept the title of Knight of the Mak'Tor with the rank of Koawan of the Gray by your Mentors and Peers.  Further, you have indicated your willingness to accept the honor and responsibility of this rank.  Do you, Ken'A'Nia Mack, swear by the Holy Maker that you will honor and defend the Mak'Tor, living by its principle adn following the Code of the Mak'Tor Order?"

Ken, looking straight forward, answered clearly.  "I will."

Kage Silman continued.  "That you will strive always to maintain a personal devotion and relationship with the Maker to facilitate doing Right as the Maker revealed to us in his Way?"

"I will."

"That you will protect the innocent and defend the weak from those who would oppress them or unjustly use them?"

"I will."

"That you will conduct yourself in all matters as befits a Knight of the Mak'Tor, drawing your sword only for just cause?"

"I will."

Kage Lo nodded one last time.  "Then having sworn these solemn oaths, I Kage Silman Lo, by right of law and in the name of the Knights of the Mak'Tor, dub you Knight..." the blade dipped, tapping Ken's right shoulder, "...Koawan of the Gray..." the blade rose and dipped again, tapping Ken's left shoulder, "...Knight of the Mak'Tor."  The blade dipped one last time, again tapping Ken's right shoulder, then hovered briefly over his head again before the Kage sheathed it with a flourish.  The Kage then reached back and called Ken's saber to his hand.  "Rise, Koawan Ken'A'Nia Mack and accept this saber.  It is your badge of rank - and your honor.  Bear it with dignity and use it with skill to defend the Order, the Innocent and the Weak."

Ken met the Kage's eyes and took his saber from the Kage's outstreched hand.  He stepped back and ignited the blade, flourishing it and raising it in salute.

As one I and the rest of the assembled Knights drew our sabers.  Silman Lo again drew the sword, rather than his own lightsaber.  In unison, we ignited our blades and returned Ken's salute.  And again, as one, we finished the flourishing salute and deactivated our blades.  Ken held his salute until the Kage finished his own flourish and sheathing motion, then completed his own.

The Kage stepped forward again, smiling now.  He took Ken by the shoulders and turned him to face the gathered Knights.  "Knights of the Mak'Tor!  I present to you Ken'A'Nia Mack, Koawan of the Gray!  Koawan, go forward and meet your peers!"

I looked over at Arnor as the room erupted in cheers for the new Knight.  Ken, grinning sheepishly now, stepped forward to begin the long task of introducing himself to each Knight in the room.  I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw tears in my wife's eyes.  But it was hard to tell: I couldn't see clearly due to the water in my own eyes.

Three cheers for Koawan Ken!

Hip Hip ... Hooray!

Hip Hip ... Hooray!

Hip Hip ... Hooray!

Alright Ken!  Three cheers for the new koawan!

This Interlude would be awesome just for the good vibes alone BUT I love the new view into Mak'Tor ceremony!  And the Song-steel sword was a wonderful detail!

BTW, LOVE (and honored) to see D'Aylanna and Zearic included  ;D

I can't wait to read more Karm!

Congrats Ken...
Taken your first steps into a larger world...a world that will feature something to do with  Er'Lav Racc 's operations no doubt.

LOL  Nice catch LSG!  Next interlude will illuminate that...

*** Destruction of a Knight ***

I watched as Ken mingled with his new Peers, alternately laughing and looking shy as people he still saw as teachers and legends now addressed him as a peer.  I turned and hid my own smile, fueled by my own memories of being knighted. 

"He'll get used to it.  We did." Arnor said softly in my ear, slipping her arm into the crook of my elbow.

"That we did." I replied.  Arnor stood straight and strong, her body healed though there was still a shadow in her eyes at time.  But the old sparkle had returned as well, and I was glad to see it.  Still, a stir of guilt twisted through my guts when I saw her start at a sharp noise.  She laughed it off - we both did - but deep down I still felt a bone-deep blood guilt for what had happened to my wife.

Arnor's eyes turned sad and she reached up and cupped my cheek.  "Karm ... don't.  I knew what could happen.  It was not your fault.  Besides, you saved me.  And Ken.  Arguably you saved us all, and nearly died yourself doing it.  So let it go!"  The last was delivered in a stern voice, her eyes hardening, no longer joking.

I brought her hand to my lips and kissed it, doing the only thing I could.  "Yes, ma'am."

She smiled, accepting the kiss, then her eyes darkened again as they caught sight of someone behind me.  "Er'Lav..."

I turned and again caught site of the petite knight, and again the haggard look struck me.  So did her position - alone, near the refreshments, holding a drink in her hand.  When did Er'Lav start drinking?  The last time I'd seen her she had been recruiting for the Maker's Temple, looking for help with their children's programs and musical programs.  Singing was held in high regard in worship of the Maker, not surprising among a people defined by something described in musical terms, and helping people learn about aural music was considered a high calling and talent was greatly prized.  Er'Lav was a talented singer in all regards and loved to teach the children's choirs in her local congregation.  She was known among the Knights as fun-loving but strict in areas of personal morality, and was known as one who simply refused to touch anything alcoholic or even caffeinated.  But now...

"C'mon, we need to talk to her..." Arnor was already moving toward her.  I remembered that Er'Lav Racc had been Arnor Chillum's good friend in the Academy, and they had only separated when they each became Teidowans.  I followed my wife over to Er'Lav, who greeted her old friend amicably enough.  The hug that followed, however, became a clinging affair and I felt Arnor's emotions spike as her old friend clung to her like a lost puppy. 

"Let's sit down..." I suggested, steering the women toward the door and out into the garden, where there were many quiet alcoves supplied with benches - and privacy.  The flinch at the touch of my hand on her shoulder confirmed my fear - something very bad had happened.

By the time we reached a quiet corner Er'Lav's head was resting wearily on my wife's strong shoulder.  Her startling blue eyes were red with tears as she recounted four years of building horror, cut short by an unexpected brush with death.  "And...then they pushed them out the airlock.  No appeal, no trial, no discussion.  Just a blaster bolt to the guts and into space to die in vacuum.  I'm only here because they decided that since I was a slave and obviously not there of my own volition..." she looked away, shame overcoming her for a moment, before continuing "...that I was not a collaborator.  The wives, though...."  The tears started again.  "The girls who were there by choice, paid or married to the men, were stripped and herded into the air lock.  They let them scream and beg, and then left them there, waiting to die..." Er'Lav shuddered.  "They landed us in Mos Eisley, handed each of us enough money for some decent clothing and passage on a tramp freighter to about anywhere we wanted to go.  The women in the airlock were ... sold with the ship to pay for it." 

Arnor pulled her close, whispered something into her ear, then turned to me.  "Shoo, Karm.  We ... need to talk."

I nodded, silent, and walked back toward the happy sounds of the reception.  Maenowan Er'Lav Racc was a broken woman, her will destroyed by whatever she'd lived through.  I had no knowledge of what she'd been sent to do originally, but her mission had gone horribly wrong.  No doubt Telow'Na had been going crazy trying to locate her lost agent, but had been unable to do so until Er'Lav had shown up unannounced at the Mak'Tor medical mission on Ryloth a month ago.  And the people who had rescued her...

I shook my head, looking back at my wife.  Whatever had happened, her 'rescue' had been the finishing stroke.  No doubt Arnor and the Healers would be able to help Er'Lav recover, but for now she was a broken person.  Deep down inside I wanted to find out more about who had done that breakage - and whether or not they needed to be dealt with.

I walked back into the reception, my face showing a smile while my eyes searched.  After a moment I found my target and moved circumspectly to intercept him.  Meanowan Zearic was circulating through the room, smiling, engaging in small talk, and generally feeling miserable.  I saw his eyes light up as I approached, a face he knew in the sea of strangers.  "Karmack!  Congratulations!"

"Thank you, Zearic." I replied, smiling as we clasped hands with the characteristic metallic clash of our prosthetic hands.  I let my face go serious and show some of my concern as I gestured toward the edge of the room.  "Zearic, could I ask you a question?"

"Of course." The larger man replied, moving with me to a window overlooking the mountains.  We stood for a moment, taking in the view, before I turned and asked my question.

"Zearic, what do you know about ... the Son's of Kessel?" 

I am starting to see a reoccuring thread with these Sons of Kessel. I am beginning to wonder if they are more than just some organization that is freeing slaves in the Outer Rim and Hutt Space. But we will see as we continue on.

And then this:

"I walked back into the reception, my face showing a smile while my eyes searched.  After a moment I found my target and moved circumspectly to intercept him.  Meanowan Zearic was circulating through the room, smiling, engaging in small talk, and generally feeling miserable."

I understand this so well. That feeling when you go to a party or meeting with only one person that you know, and the rest a bunch of strangers, but you have to be friendly (which I don't do great. I generally don't even talk to people if I can avoid it). So relatable.

LOL This was AWESOME Karm!

I am LOVING these collaborations!  Perfect characterizations my friend  :)

On a more serious note, poor Er'Lav.  Her treatment at the hands of the Sons of Kessel... Brutal, just horrible.  Details like that... Hmm.

And it's always a pleasure to see Arnor (and her rapport with Karm), especially after the ordeals that she'd endured...
You know, I noticed that Karm and I really, really like to beat the hell out of our characters  ;)

I can't WAIT to see where this leads!  Great job Karm  :D

Thanks.  :-)

I do want to note: Most of the abuse came BEFORE she ran into the SoK.  The ... casual disregard for possible innocence, shall we say, was just the straw that broke the camel's back. 
At least, that's what the therapist's report says...  ;-)

Brutal and troubling...every organization had its bad apples...but there is a hideous irony in freeing slave but then selling the former masters...No doubt the SoK leadership would be very unimpressed to hear that was happening...but how do you control people who have been brutalized once you liberate them?   

Taken together with the Dawn of the Knight it is an interesting mirror, the heights of celebration of a new knight to the realities of what a life of a knight can involve and the price of that.  No doubt for all their pride in Ken that is a timely reminder of what can happen to him.

Well Done Karm!   

*** Tears of the Singer ***

I spun though the forms, always moving, shifting...  Targets floated around me, a dozen blaster-balls firing random shots as they whizzed around the periphery and several target drones moving in and out, some firing as well, others wielding practice blades.  My own staff was also one of the practice weapons, but I'd made some small modifications to the hilt so that it perfectly mimicked my new weapon in both weight and balance.  Only the pale blue of the low-power blades set it apart, and after days of hours-long workouts it was finally becoming the natural extension of my body and thoughts that I needed it to be.

Sweat flew from me and fatigue was creeping up.  I intensified my battle-song and added a small counter-melody that fed new energy into lungs and limbs.  My body responded nicely, the fatigue poisons leached away and renewed energy and vigor flowing into arms and legs.  But on the edge of perception I could feel the burning beginning again...  You need to back off.  Rest.  Recover...

"No!" I said, not realizing I had spoken out loud.  I threw myself into the form, flowing from point to point, increasing speed.  The blue blades disappeared into a whirl as they spun through strikes and orbits, moving in arcs and combinations that no one had taught in the classroom.  This was pure improvisation: the balance of form and function on the knife-edge of creativity.  Moving like a shade I slid through the salle eliminating targets, deflecting blaster bolts away from myself and into other drones...  I suddenly stopped in an extended stance, the blades still as the last target drone fell, the last blaster ball dropping from the air, deactivated by a deflected shot.  There was calm and stillness broken only by the ragged sound of my breathing and the hammering of my heart in my ears...

Slow clapping erupted from the doorway.  "Well done, Master Karmack!  Arnor told me you'd decided to brush up on your staff techniques, but I had no idea you were working on Juyo."

I turned and bowed to the dark figure in the doorway.  "Thank you, Master Zane.  I ... would appreciate any feedback you may have."

L'Gan Zane, Master of Blades, stepped into the room.  She was small, three centimeters shorter than Arnor, and lithe in form and movement.  Her black hair was cut in a short style that was both feminine and practical, and her hazel eyes practically glowed with challenge.  I had not sparred her in years, but had watched her best Kage Lo several days earlier staff to staff while barely breaking a sweat.  She moved like lightning and with the utter smoothness of quicksilver.  She was an expert in all seven of the recognized Jedi forms of saber combat, and preferred Juyo.

It was the ferocity form, and she was ferocious...

Zane picked up one of the fallen remotes and examined it.  "Twelve remotes and eight target drones, all set for maximum AI and interlinked.  One might think you were preparing for an army, Master Karmack."

I bowed again.  "I am, Master Zane."

She nodded, her bright eyes probing me.  "Well then.  Your form looks impeccible.  But as they say, good against remotes is one thing.  Good against flesh-and-blood..." 

I felt the attack coming and blocked it, the force energy of her thrust diverting around me.  Behind it a mind probe - trying to gather my intentions and cloud my actions - while simultaneously calling her own customized practice hilt to her hand and sending every single piece of loose equipment, targets, drones, even several extra practice saber hilts, flying at me.

I blocked the probe and rode it back into her own mind, going for her center of balance and looking for her intent as well...  She slammed the door on me, but it put her on the defensive in the mind war.  Simultaneously I caught the flying debris and channeled it all into a stream spinning around me, then sent that stream rifling back at Zane like a stream of machine-gun bullets.  Her force block scattered the pieces all over the room, but using it left her open...

I trailed the last target drone with a massive push of my own, catching her by surprise.  The push hit - hard - and sent her flying backwards.  She caught herself  and turned it into a somersault, landing gracefully across the room from me.  "Well done!  Now, the fun begins..."  She smiled, and I suddenly felt the floor beneath me shift as the section I was standing on suddenly shifted and flew away, throwing me awkwardly onto my back.  My own trick!  She used my own trick on me....

The thought barely formed before she was upon me, blades ignited.  I blocked her initial attack and tried another force push, but her defenses were up fully now.   

As were mine.  Our battle songs were in full voice, the tambre in the force making it clear that we were just sparring but it was as close to an all-out death-match as anyone ever came.  Zane was serious when she sparred.  She hadn't lost a match in years.  And I...

I will NOT lose.  Never again...

I felt something harden within me...  A resolve I hadn't known was there.  A shell around something else...   I shook it off.  Not now!

Battle-light was in Zanes eyes, but there was something else there, too...  "Let it go, Karm.  Whatever you're holding onto, let it go."

"What?"  I drew up a touch.  "What are you...."

She struck, blades flashing.  I barely managed to make the block, and the force of her attack threw me backwards.  I rolled, came upright and rebounded, using a force-augmented push to throw myself up and over her as she slashed through the place I should have been had I recovered normally.  I landed and spun, launching and attack of my own but she wasn't there....

Agony ripped through me as her blade hammered into my side.  I collapsed forward, the searing pain coursing through my torso, and then in a fashion Zane was famous for she finished the lesson with the follow-on shot to the head.  Fresh agony ripped through my skull, and my vision blanked for a moment...

That should have ended the fight.  I could feel the fatigue now in my body and joints.  I was exhausted.  When I tried to augment with the force, the fiery pain that burned in my nerves was more than just a nuisance.  It was a warning: stop now.

No....

I shook my head, raw fury and anger welling up.  Irrational anger....  Boy, what are you doing???? I asked myself in the voice that sounded so much like Du'an Chillum...

The voice that replied was raw with fury.  Shut up...  I will NOT be defeated!

I threw myself into a forward roll and rose into a combat stance.  "Point."

Zane's face now looked very serious.  "Karm, stop this now.  What are you trying to prove?"

"I..."  For a moment confusion reigned.  Then icy rage and resolve.  "No.  Not again.  Fight!"

I didn't wait.  I launched my attack, physically and with the force.  I intensified my song, reaching out, focusing it...

No...  I can't do that...  The crystal isn't here...   The crystals in the practice sabers were neither the Ancient One or the Adegan crystals of my new staff.  They were simple Ilum crystal, and had no force connection.  The augmented song I tried to launch through the crystal reverberated ... and fed back through me.

It was to much.  I felt my body fail, muscles cramping.  Fire coursed through my body, my mind.  The battle song died, and I felt a veil drop over the song and the force as my connection to both failed.  I collapsed, writhing in pain, and for a time all I knew as burning agony.

No...   Not again....

Again, I had gone to far.  Again, I had lost connection. 

Again I had failed...

I came back to myself to feel strong hands working the worst of the knots out of my back.  The pain was immense, my arms and torso still cramped.   I could barely breathe.  Gingerly I lifted the veil, reaching for the song, the force.... 

It was like dipping burned skin into hot water.  The connection ... burned.  But it was still there.  Still working.  I gritted my teeth and initiated a mild healing song.  Slowly the soothing energy flowed into my limbs, relaxing muscles and clearing the fatigue poisons, but I couldn't keep singing long enough to clear everything.  I drew a full breath and rolled over on my back, pulling the claws of my hands back out, stretching the muscles of my fore-arms as Zane used the opportunity to carefully stretch my hamstrings.

Finally I was loosened enough to sit up and move again.  "Thank you, L'Gan."

Master Zane sat next to me.  "Karm, what is going on?  What are you trying to prove?  Arnor told me you've been in here every day for hours.  Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I met her eyes.  She was genuinely worried.  And if Arnor had sent her here to intervene, then my wife was far more concerned than I had convinced myself she was.  "No.  I just..."

I stopped.  What?  C'mon Karm.  What is it?  You know.  Say it.

I looked down at my hands, then back up at my peer.  "I lost the Ancient One and couldn't help Arnor because I ... went to far.  I wasn't strong enough."

Zane's eyes widened slightly, then hardened.  "Hogwash."

Anger - fury - welled up again in my chest.  "What do you know about it?" I snapped back.

The room echoed with the sound of Zane's slap across my face.  "You know perfectly well what I know about it!  How dare you..."

I felt the burn on my cheek from her hand.  I saw the tears in her eyes, shining.  Remembered her husband and son, dying together while she lay nearby, wounded and unable to help them...

...not strong enough...

I saw the pain in her face and realized I had caused it.  Caused it on purpose.  "L'Gan, I am so sorry!  Forgive me..."

Zane leaned in, nearly nose-to-nose with me.  "I will, Karm ... if you will forgive yourself."

"But..."  I slumped back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.  "But what I did..."  My voice was a whisper.  "I ... hurt her ... so bad ... so bad ..."

Zane grabbed my hand.  "You saved her, Karm.  You saved Ken.  You saved that other Gray, Zearic, and created the opening that let his wife finish the mission.  Do you really think Arnor, Jorya, or Ken would be better off if you hadn't done what you did?"

I looked at her.  "No..."

Zane stood up.  "Then let it go, Master Karmack.  Or it will eat you alive."

Zane sent her practice staff back to its place in the salle armory rack and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Learn from failure, Karmack.  Du'an always told you that.  Learn.  And forgive.  You forgive others.  Forgive yourself!

Arnor's broken form flashed in my memory.  Her form, broken, naked, bloody... And surrounded by dead enemies.  Covered by my own cloak.  Rescued...

You saved her...

Ken's face, bloody and shocked, his right arm gone at the shoulder, his heart and lungs immolated by the Zabrak's saber.  That same face, slack now, as the healing song poured through me, through the Ruh Crystal, and the force energy reformed that shattered body...   Ken's face, alight with hope and joy as he received his knighthood.

You saved him...

"Maker, forgive me!"  I felt the tears begin as I released my selfish pride.  "Maker...  I am yours.  Forgive me my foolish pride..."

Slowly the knot in my chest, a knot I had barely acknowledged was even there, unwound its death-grip on my heart.  The anger and rage I had been directing outward dissipated as I released the fear and self-loathing that had fueled them.

I could not forgive myself.  But the Maker was faithful and promised in his Way that He would forgive.  And so, as the tears flowed, I laid myself at His feet and sought His forgiveness, His mercy, His grace.  And as the Way said, the Maker replaced my tears with His light.  My sorrow with His joy.  My suffering with His relief.

And I heard it ... the Song rang with it.  As my own eyes dried, the Tears of the Singer fell...and set me free.

Working through not only the physical but the emotional fallout of Wind Chimes...I was wondering when Arnors abuse would catch up with Karmack, noted in the prior interludes but yeah glad you addressed it more strongly here.

Its a start.  Might take a while.  But you have to admit you have a problem before you can work on it.  I don't feel like I was up to the task of what I wanted to tell in that interlude, but it will have to serve. 

[/i]

He was a father.

The tears pooled in his eyes as he read the short stream transmission…his wife had given birth to a daughter…they had only been married a short time before she fell pregnant…the first child born on Vyth…the first of a new colony of the Mak’Tor…his first…

It hurt him he couldn’t be there…or even see a holopict…or even reply…the cosmology of this part of the deep core prevented any such complex transmissions coming through…it was a second miracle after the birth that a message had come through at all…the dense accretion of nebulaic material made navigation almost impossible…more than once already he had nearly found himself battered by ionic radiation, rent apart in a hyper dense cloud of neutrinos….

FourNine Chirped beside him,

“Yes it is good news…Holly had the baby,”

Another spray of noises ending in a droning boop.

“I wish I could’ve been there too”

He was two months of hard travel into a one week mission…no one could’ve anticipated the difficulties…he had been selected by Kage Odjina because he was the best pilot they had…and almost that had not been enough.  He worried about how his wife must be feeling to have not heard from him in so long….He tried to reach out in the force…yet felt only the cold of space all around him.

Warning lights blinked again, FourNines main photo receptor blinked from its usual yellow to danger red…another radiation spike…he was a father…strange how that made him just that bit more attentive…that bit more apprehensive than he had been ten minutes ago.
***************************************************************************************************************
He settled onto the moons roughly marked landing pad…there were no signs of life, no response to his hail from the automated system.

It peeved him to have missed the birth of his child for this…checking up on an automated listening post in the deep core…it had gone dead three months before…he was dispatched two weeks after…and then…two months…

At least here he was able to stretch his legs a bit.  As he headed to the pre-fabricated outpost.  It was a drab brown rock of a moon above a still molten world, no atmosphere it was in geostationary orbit on the side facing away from the planet into the seething mass of nova and dying and rising stars that jostled for space deeper into the core.

Why the Mak’tor had built this here…well no one knew…when he wasn’t struggling to keep his ship from be rent apart by gravity wells and triple checking hyperspace co-ordinates, he had read up on the history of the post. 

The best information they had was it was established almost 400 years before…after some kind of unusual force event, it was planned to be the first stage in an effort to map out what the leaders of the time had sensed…but events closer to home had soon become more important… He looked over the prefab buildings and shackled on sensor arrays…all of them no younger than 200 years old, the last time a maintenance crew had been out here…most likely simply fell apart by the looks of things. 

“FourNine check if the air lock still works…I’ll have a look around out here,” 
The astromech trundled off through the sooty grains that hung in the air after being kicked up by his tracks.

He had brought equipment to effect most any repair needed with Four Nines help…but that only added to the annoyance…this was surely a job more suited to a dedicated maintenance crew not a Koawan…but Odjina had been insistent…

“I need someone on the ground to sense what is going on out there…something feels wrong,”  the Kage had said…He didn’t’ doubt the Kage truly believed this was an important mission and he was rarely…in fact never…wrong…maybe this was the first time.

He gazed out at the lights of the core that danced on the edge of the black hole…life on the edge…so fragile…like his child…
**************************************************************************************************************
He hadn’t sensed it before…he did now…The inside of the prefab was clean…neat apart from a few spare spools of wire and power cells…but in the force…it…was dead…not just in the sense of being empty of other life forms…but like something in the room was actively pushing the force away…The computers were all disabled, their hard drives and backups removed…this was intentional….but why…what possible value could this stations data hold…nothing had happened in this sector for centuries.

FourNine had popped open side panel and performed a bio sweep, but no traces of any biological matter younger than 150 years were found.  Even the secret recording devices he had listed on the schematics he had studied on the trip had been removed…how could they know they were even there…None of this made sense.

He crouched on the grated floor…trying to sense…anything in the force…but it was just a dead void. 

FourNine whistled excitedly,

“What is it?” he asked, the droid adjusted its eye and sent yellow laser light to where he should look, there was a small nick in the grate where it had been recently moved.

He lifted it up and found amongst the old corroded metal a small fist sized black ball…not just black…almost light absorbent material.  He stretched his hand forth and…

His own presence in the force suddenly exploded…he felt…magnified…like he was a million times bigger…as though he were an ancient thin transparent slide and a light had been cast upon him to project an image across the canvas of the infinite starts...he immediately retreated back.

“Maker Preserve me….”

Four Nine chirped with a quivering note,

“I don’t know either buddy…I really don’t”
**************************************************************************************************************
He had just finished hooking up the long range transmitter on the outpost to his ship in the hopes of boosting the signal enough to get a message back to Vyth…or any Mak’Tor or Gray…heck at this point he’d even settle for Grand Master Kimar!

The ship came in on almost the opposite vector he had – it was coming from somewhere even deeper in the core.  It circled for a moment about the outpost as he rushed to his ship and activated the comm…it sent no signals and began to land on the far side of the outpost. 

He swallowed hard and opened the chest with his sabre…he hoped he didn’t need this.  He flicked a glance back to the main screen…there was the simple if somewhat garbled message….”Congr[[ - ] healthy girl - 1.8 K – so h[]py M**s You.” 

A girl…they had already picked names…his daughter was Ha'Ona'Mack…named for Holly’s grandmother, a greatly respected Maenowan who had died before he could meet her…and perhaps mercifully before Kimar cast her apprentice Odjina and the Mak’Tor out of the Temple.

He was a father now…whatever was going on here…he had somewhere else he needed to be…someone else who needed him…he wouldn’t be distracted by it…but he had to remember it.
***************************************************************************************************************

The ship looked Mandolorian…but he wouldn’t be intimated or do anything that could lead to violence, he was a father now, and he had to get back to his daughter.

He couldn’t sense any presences as he approached the ship…perhaps it was automated…but then what had set it to come here…FourNine hadn’t detected any silent alarms…and FourNine was one of the best. 

“Hello,” he called through his suits speaker, the ships ramp started to lower…compared to his own there were no lighting scorches or anything…they must know a safe route through the stars here…

“Hello, I mean no harm, I’m just here to…” 

The snap-hiss of a lightsabre igniting was dulled in the thin wisps of nitrogen about the moon…a green blade appeared right beneath his chin casting a deathly glow into his eyes….How…he hadn’t sensed….he tried to remain calm…he dropped his hands to the side and kept them open and non-threatening…he didn’t want to antagonize whoever this was…maybe it was some kind of joke…a surprise…would Holly appear suddenly with his daughter…it was a delirious hope but all he could think of to keep himself calm…he wouldn’t…couldn’t die...he was  father….

He felt the force press against his mind…sharp…angry….it asked a question…

Who….

Ho’Li’Mak

How Many….

One

Why….

Love

What….

A child, a daughter…the future…

“Think you’re clever Gray”, came a helmet distorted voice, “think you can hide your true intentions behind your paternal emotions,”

“I don’t…I don’t have any intentions…” he was starting to sweat despite the cold of the void
“I just want to go home to my wife…my daughter…I’m…I’m just a father,”

“You lie well Gray…very well…” why, why wouldn’t he believe him….his every emotion was flowing freely in the force…he just wanted to live to see his child, to hold her in his arms….

A sigh from behind him…he felt the tip of a blaster press into the back of his suit, then…
“A pretty lie – daddy -…the hard way it is,”

Wonderful interlude Karmack. It is so cool to see someone we all know now as powerful, strong, and almost unstoppable, becoming so weak. Then as he realizes that he cannot do this on his own, he opens up, and asks for help. A help he know he will get. Very well written, and very powerful.

And LSG, you just add a whole new depth to everything you touch. I love how you are kind of centering everything of yours in the past, but still tying it all together with the rest of the stories. Your incorperation of the black stone and the Mak'Tor order is wonderful. I feel like we will get hints to the future as we continue to see what you have to say. I am also wondering if the people that this Gray just met are the SoK. I get the feeling that they might be, though we don't yet know.

Wonderful interludes both of you.

For Karm's Interlude

This was a great window into Karm's state of mind, especially after what he encountered at Geonosis concerning Arnor and Ken.  And L'Gan is awesome!  This is a character that I would like to know more about (the loss of her husband AND child?!)  And I thought I put Zearic through hell...  ;) 

Beautiful ending though my friend  :)

For LSG's Interlude
Your treatment of other writer's Universes is nothing short of phenomenal!  I always get a kick out of seeing other's characters in another writer's narrative, especially when done as well as this.  Although tragedy real!y seems to follow the Mak'Tor  :(

As good as the writing, I applaud the attention to technical details: the naming conventions of the Mak'Tor stand out as a perfect example!  Again: just wonderful  :D

Interlude-Rewards and Consequences, Part I(This takes place just prior to “The Gray and the Unchained Epilogue”)

Holding the door for both Arnor and D’Aylanna, I gestured to the taller man as I offered for Karm to enter into the apartments that the Mak’Tor had provided us.  Ducking his head, he gave a quick word of thanks but then followed the women into the large, well-lit atrium.  Choosing a comfortable couch, Arnor patted the cushion, a wry smile upon her face as she waited for Karm to join her.  She was a beautiful woman but her ordeals had taken their toll: she still had dark circles under her eyes and a tightness about them that had not been there before.  Unsurprising that, given what she’d endured.  And she wasn’t alone; Karm’s face looked harder than I’d ever seen it, determination even now radiating from him.  Both were among the strongest people I’d ever met so I wasn’t so much worried as concerned for my friends.

Ever the consummate hostess, D’Aylanna appeared with drinks, handing them first to our guests and then a steaming cup to me.  Preoccupied, I gulped down the first swallow.  Recoiling slightly, a bit of hot liquid spilled as the drink burned its way down my throat.

I stared at my wife.  “Hot chocolate?”  She gave a knowing, amused nod. 

Karm had an inquisitive look on his face.  “Hawt chawkalit?  I don’t think that I’ve ever heard of it…”

Arnor had a secretive smile on her face.  “No, dear, you would have remembered.  And its ‘hot chocolate.’”  She reached up, playfully ruffling Karm’s hair.

Arnor’s enunciation made D’Aylanna smile.  “I know, Arnor.  I spent an entire evening teaching Zearic how to speak properly.  I can only image what the bartender thought when he first attempted to order his drink.”  As disparate as they were, both women laughed virtually identically.  I myself smiled in remembrance; the bartender had to have a translator brought to understand what I’d asked for.

“You see what I go through?” Karm directed his intentionally serious question to me.  “They believe that we would not be able to dress ourselves without them…” He continued before taking a drink, his cup hiding the half-smile on his face.  Then, looking completely surprised, he gulped down the liquid in his mouth.  “…D’Aylanna…how did you know?  This is delicious!”  He then upended the cup, finishing off its contents with obvious contentment.

Furrowing my brow, I looked inquiringly at my wife.  D’Aylanna’s face looked completely expressionless, the only hint that she was trying to suppress laughter was the corner of her blue lips twitched.  “Oh nothing, Shakal.”  She addressed Karm.  “Remember that the next time you think that you know more than your wife…”  She left the comment in the air.  Then I saw Arnor wink at my wife.  After a moment, we all gave a laugh.  The night had been full of jubilation, good cheer, and celebration.

And it had been altogether too brief.

After D’Aylanna had refilled his cup, Karm cleared his throat, sitting up straighter.  “Zearic and I were speaking earlier about something that, apparently, has come to the attention of both our Orders.”  We all fell into silence for a moment before the tall maenowan continued, relating the news of Er'Lav Racc.

“…leaving her broken.”  Karm paused.  “I’ve known Er’Lav for most of my life; she’s the strongest woman I know…” He sounded pensive, his eyes momentarily lost in the past, but quickly added, “…present company excluded, of course.”  It was testament to the gravity of the situation that neither Arnor nor D’Aylanna commented.

“Obviously I don’t have the benefit of knowing Maenowan Er’Lav like you, Karm, but—” I indicated both D’Aylanna and myself, “—our condolences, for what it’s worth…”  I couldn’t help but think about these “Sons of Kessel.”  True, what they’d done to Maenowan Er’Lav was deplorable…but what they stood for…

I mentally shook my head, bringing my attention back to the present.  D’Aylanna was speaking, relating to Karm and Arnor what she’d told me the night prior.  “…Kage Oyuna brought me up to speed.  They operate with impunity throughout Hutt Space, quite possibly dating back millennia but were the most vociferous and audacious one-to-two centuries prior to the Vhal’Dan Civil War…in fact, very close to the Mak’Tor Expulsion from Coruscant.”  D’Aylanna spread her burgundy and silver robes as she sat, keying the datapad interfaced with the holovid that took up the entire atrium wall.  “Oyuna has supplied us with a thorough dossier from Vhal’Dan Intelligence.  The Sons of Kessel have a broad yet highly organized sphere of influence, especially along the Outer Rim, although they can be found anywhere that slavers operate.  Typically, their modus operandi is the liberation of slaves, funds, and matériel from not only slavers but also organized criminals and “legitimate” politicians.  They are lethal, ambitious, and—up until recently—extremely insular against anyone who was not a slave.”

D’Aylanna keyed in on a picture of a male Togruta, his face heavily scarred and missing one of his lekkus.  “From reports, this change in policy is a direct result of this man, called ‘Scrubber.’  He has been identified as the leader—de facto or otherwise—of the Sons.  He is intelligent, pragmatic, ruthless, and patient but incredibly charismatic and loyal to his ‘sires and siras.’”  D’Aylanna used the universal Galactic pronouns deliberately; this “Scrubber” obviously had countless species among the Sons.  “There is not much in his history that Intel was able to glean.  He himself is a former slave but there are whispers that he also has had some military training, during the Clone Wars and then later during the Lijarak Mines Incident.”

As D’Aylanna named the specific events, she brought up separate relative databases and reports.  Scrubber’s Clone War holopics showed the Togruta among a demolitions unit in what looked to be the final year of the War.  The quality was horrendous but the Togruta’s face was unmistakable.  Likewise a holovid loop that must have come from an automated security camera.  In it, several Rebels were in retreat, pursued by stormtroopers.  Then a sudden explosion obscured the video feed, a cloud of dirt expanding outward from the origin point.  Only one figure is briefly visible in the frame: a bloodied Togrutan male firing a repeater from the hip.  Then the feed looped to the beginning.

D’Aylanna continued.  “Regardless of incident, whenever Scrubber is present, his endgame is the same: the abolition of any and all slavery.”  My wife’s blue lips pursed into a tight line.  “And wherever Scrubber goes, so too does this…being.”  She keyed a dropdown and expanded the file.  Scrolling through, she stopped on a frantic holopic, obviously taken during some armed conflict.  Despite the harried action within the frame, there was no mistaking the subject: the figure must have been over two meters, perhaps even three, a hulking brute completely covered in jet-black armor…

I blinked.  “Zearic…that looks a lot like your dagger.” Karm’s quiet, deep voice echoed my own thoughts as if reading my mind.  What the hell…? But even as I asked myself the question, D’Aylanna continued.

“There is no information regarding this…figure.  The only nomenclature attached to this being is what the Sons call him: ‘Black Armor.’”  D’Aylanna’s face had adopted a perturbed visage; she did not like having incomplete intel.  “Best guess: Black Armor is Scrubber’s enforcer.”  She keyed off the holovid, looking intently at each of us in turn.  “Which brings us to the present: the Sons have captured an abandoned Imperial stockade on the Outer Rim World of Teth III, same system.  There they have collected, commandeered, funneled materiel and personnel.”  She let that sink in. 

“The Sons of Kessel are actively recruiting.”  This was new; D’Aylanna had only told me up to this point what Oyuna and her had discussed.  “Arnor and I have been speaking to our respective Kages and are in agreement.”

Both Karm and I had identical looks on our faces.  Arnor and I…? I thought.

“Excuse me, but you both decided…what?” Karm’s voice was equal parts suspicious and troubled, the fingers in his cybernetic glove unconsciously flexing.  I nodded my agreement, wondering what our wives had discussed.

“We’re sending a joint scouting mission, a small team.” Arnor stated.  “We need more information concerning the Sons of Kessel, especially with them arising as a new player in Palpatine’s post-Empire.”  The taller woman’s eyes turned to D’Aylanna who nodded.

“Both of our Kages have valid concerns about the power vacuum that the Emperor’s death created.”  My wife looked at me.  “In fact, Oyuna intimated that when you’ve recovered, we’re to investigate a rumored cache of Force artifacts that Palpatine had secreted away.” 

“‘When I’ve recover—?’” I began but D’Aylanna stopped me cold.

“Do not even attempt to dissemble, Shakal.  I’ve noticed how you try to hide the fact that you are still in considerable pain, not to mention the limp in your right leg. You are not going.” And I had thought that the Kage’s eyes were hard during my trial years ago; they were nothing compared to my wife’s as she stared at me in admonition.

And out of the corner of my eye, I heard Arnor castigating Karm, almost a pitch-perfect match to D’Aylanna’s tone.

“L’Gan already told me about your ‘sparring match.’  You’re pushing yourself too hard.  You are not going.” Arnor folded her arms, D’Aylanna’s gestures an exact match.  “Now, Ka'A'Mack, D’Aylanna and I have preparations to make.”  As both women went to exit they walked arm in arm together, their heads—Arnor’s taller and D’Aylanna’s shorter—conspiratorially close, leaving Karm and I facing each other in the atrium.

“Well…” Karm looked poleaxed for a moment.  I could empathize.  However, he quickly recovered, looking thoughtful.  “Zearic, what do you think about these Sons of Kessel?”

I inhaled slowly, gathering my thoughts.  “I think that they’re trying to make their lives better.”  I ran my hand through my short shaved hair, looking at the ceiling, the indigenous granite refracting the light in a pleasant scintillation.  But when I looked at Karm, I suddenly stopped.  His piercing eyes were staring at me, through me.

“…By terrorizing innocent women?  Savaging them?  Murdering people?” His deep voice was soft; he wasn’t exactly angry…but I recognized the fire in his eyes.  I’d seen him adopt it when he was Singing a battle-Song.

“Karm…these women had deliberately attached themselves to slavers.  And the people…no, not ‘people,’ slavers—” My own anger began to flare thinking of them…and incidents of my childhood I’d thought I’d put past me.  “—that have the audacity to treat people as…no, worse than, chattel… Well, I consider that reciprocity.”  My eyes stared straight at the taller man’s, neither of us wavering.

“‘An eye for an eye makes the universe blind’ is an old Mak’Tor axiom.  And those who are affected include the innocent.  How can you countenance their suffering?” Karm’s voice was steady, controlled…but beneath it all was unyielding quadranium and passion.

“I don’t.  Sometimes bad things happen to good people; each and everyone a tragedy.  But those that are truly evil…they are deserving of retribution.  More importantly, the Sons are fighting for the freedom of every single slave.  What is a more grievous crime: to enslave an innocent or to punish the wicked?” I fought to control myself as well as Karm obviously did.

“To fight evil with evil is to deny the humanity within ourselves.  No, worse, it is counter to what the Maker would have of us!” Karm’s voice echoed his conviction, his temper finally appearing through his demeanor.

“And where was the Maker when these slavers were exploiting, hurting, killing people?! People like my mot—” I stopped short, attempting to reign my anger in…and failing.  “I would have thought that perhaps you’d feel different given that you’ve lost a parent to violence, violence perpetrated by those you’d have me forgive!” As soon as I’d spoken, a small voice inside my head chastised me for bringing up such a painful event.  I crushed that voice to silence.  I didn’t realize it but I was on my feet, somewhat unsteady as my right knee nearly buckled, indicative that I was not recovered…either bodily or in spirit.

Karm had also stood while his face…changed.  The look on his face became…dangerous.  He was at least 15 centimeters taller but I outweighed him by 35-40 kilograms.  When he spoke, his voice was heated but soft, sliding as if between the chinks in armor.  “You…” He shook his head, almost as if disagreeing with himself, his eyes closed but when he spoke his words came rushing out.  “How.  Dare.  You… What would you know of my father?  He was a great man, a man that was a true follower of the Maker, a man without peer and I WILL NOT HAVE YOU SULLY HIS NAME AS A LEVER FOR YOUR ARGUMENT!”

We stood mere centimeters apart, both of us breathing heavily.  The silence stretched, booming through the atrium as both of us were coiled as if to strike, jaws and fists clenched.  Both sets of eyes, unblinking, self-possessed.  He’s a more powerful Force-user but I— I stopped short, my thoughts shocking me…and shaming me.  I lowered my eyes.

“Karm, I’m sorry.” I said, again shocked when I realized that he’d also spoken.

“Zearic, I apologize.” Karm had said almost in unison to my own apology.

Slowly, we both gave a small smile.  Karm held out his hand in more than a gesture, his eyes clear, focused, and calm.  After a moment, I grabbed him in a bear hug, clapping him on the back.  I could feel the back of my Water Warrior insignia burrow into one of the lightning scars of my chest.  It’s the least that I deserve… I thought.  Stepping back, I looked up into my friend’s eyes.

“I…I should not have spoken about things that are none of my business, Karm.  I am ashamed...  I am indebted to you”  His face remained impassive but the tightness around his eyes seemed to diminish, a slow exhale lowering his broad shoulders as he relaxed.  “I...my…mother was a…”  I had not spoken to anyone about this since…D’Aylanna.  “…She was a…‘pleasure’ slave.  I have no idea who my father was.  I didn’t really know my mother; she’d been killed by her master for…” I shook my head.  “It doesn’t matter.”  I focused my eyes, staring from underneath my brow.  “Again: I am sorry.”

Karm’s entire demeanor changed.  “No, Zearic.  You need not explain.  I…should not have said what I did.  That was not… I did not mean to impugn your character, my friend.”  He put his organic hand upon my shoulder.  “Please accept my apology.”  With that, he extended his cybernetic hand.

I looked at it and then grinned.  “I will…” I said, taking his hand in mine, "but under one condition…”

Interlude-Rewards and Consequences, Part II

After our wives had returned and Karm and Arnor had taken their leave, D’Aylanna and I decided to take a walk through the Concordia Gardens, the late night pleasant and clear, pleasing smells emanating from some beautiful cyan flowers.  And even though the constellations in M’Tzigon’s sky were completely foreign to what I was used to, I found them to be…welcoming.  But as I continued to look, I could’ve sworn that I saw the “Two Judges” just above the eastern horizon…

I breathed in deeply, exhaling loudly.  D’Aylanna’s head rested comfortingly upon my upper arm.  As we slowly made the rounds in the Gardens, I allowed myself to reflect upon our most recent trials.  As if to punctuate the change in my thoughts, my right leg began to ache again.  Even after all of the bacta treatments and the Singers’ Healing, my body still had not completely recovered.  Frankly, I was lucky to be able to walk at all.  Either by the Maker’s will or luck, my cybernetic leg had taken the brunt of the crushing weight of the durasteel container that Gaet—Mendax had pulled down upon me.  But enough damage had been done that I still walked with a noticeable limp, one that I hoped would go away…

“I know, Shakal.  But we need not worry about her.” D’Aylanna’s voice was quiet, just above a whisper, again reading my mind.  “I took care of that tralk.”  Her soft voice was incongruous with the vehemence of her pronouncement.  Casting my eyes downward, I saw that D’Aylanna was gazing intently at the stars, a wistful look upon her olive face.  “…Just a little while…”

I almost didn’t hear what she’d said.  “Ereneda?” I asked, concern heavy in my voice.  Instead of answering, D’Aylanna turned to face me, her small hands smoothing my robes, straightening the device of my Water Warrior rank, and finally wrapping her arms around my neck, going onto her toes and deeply kissing me.

What seemed like hours later, her lips left mine, her head sinking onto my barrel chest.  And for that time—just a little while—my wife and I were just two people holding one another among the stars shining in the endless night sky.

            <<<<< >>>>>

The elevator stood before me, the rusting industrial piping and clouds of vapor obfuscating the periphery.  But the scene in front of me was focused into crystal clarity: the waves of oppression drown out everything, even our voices as we shouted amongst each other, D’Aylanna, Jorya, and I.

“Dear One!  Jorya!  RUN!” My voice was all but lost in the howling tempest.

Looking confused, the Togruta hesitated, concern etched upon her face.

“She’s too young, too inexperienced!  SHE CAN’T SENSE IT!” D’Aylanna’s blue lips formed the words, shouting to be heard above the maelstrom.

All the while, I knew…it was getting closer.  The hallway was already poorly lit, but it was the presence that absorbed all of the light.  And before I knew it, it was upon me.

No sooner had the elevator doors opened then the Dark Figure emerged.  Clad in darkness, backlit by blinding light, I knew that I had scant seconds to live.  Yelling my rage, I ignited my lightsabers, the Force flowing through me.

For all the good that it would do.

Quicker than thought, the Dark Figure…moved.  A force hit me, knocking me onto my back, the water on the floor soaking through my robes.  Pain immediately followed…but not what I had expected.  Looking down, I saw that my robes were intact, if disheveled, my body whole, if sore.  I almost laughed but I realized—to my growing horror—that there was no wind, no sound at all but the ragged breathing in my chest and the drumming of my pounding heart.  But…where…?  Hurriedly, I looked around me, disbelieving of what I saw.  And then, my eyes focused on my greatest fear…

D’Aylanna no longer stood beside me.  Instead, I only saw her motionless legs, Jorya blocking the rest.  My daughter was on her knees, her eyes wide in fright, her mouth open as if to scream but no sound came forth… Slowly, I crawled past Jorya in order to see around her, absolute dread threatening to shatter my sanity.

Every inch I moved illuminated more of the scene that assaulted my eyes: first I saw the blood, already pooling in a large puddle mixing with the water on the floor, like paint colors mixing in tableau.  Then D’Aylanna’s dark eyes…dull and unseeing, staring forever at nothing.  And finally, the wicked gash that almost bisected her body from navel to neck, her spine visible amidst a soup of viscera and gore…

            <<<<< >>>>>

“NO!”  This time I yelled myself awake, my body drenched in sweat, the bedding completely tousled and wrapped around my throbbing right leg.  It took me a moment to become aware of my surroundings.  And when I did, I saw D’Aylanna’s worried face looking at me, her right hand upon my bare chest, her night dress falling off one shoulder exposing the dark, olive skin of her throat and upper chest.  Whole.  Unscathed.  Alive.

Shuddering breaths racked my entire body, goose flesh dotting my skin despite the comfortable warmth of M’Tzigon’s nights.  “Shakal?  The…dream?” I’d told D’Aylanna about the dagger…the dreams… No, not a dream…

“A nightmare, Ereneda.” I corrected.  “The worst yet.”  I told her everything about it that I could remember, her love and concern palpable.

Silently, she got up, rounded the bed to sit next to me on her knees and wrapped me in her delicate arms.  I rested my head upon her breast, the calming sounds of her strong beating heart and her steady breathing causing to wash away the terror of the nightmare.  “It’s alright my darling Shakal, it’s alright.” She soothed, her tone gentle, intended to relax me.  It worked.  Somewhat.

            <<<<< >>>>>

Despite the events of the night prior, D’Aylanna and I felt jubilant.  We were tired, yes, but we were also delighted, full of pride and expectation.  Gathered around the austere offices of the Mak’Tor Kage within the Gray Hall, we were ready.

Thanks in no small part to Karm, we were able to organize a minimal assemblage for our needs.  And although we were relatively few, it was enough that we were, once again, welcomed indiscriminately as part of the order.

Standing in front of the broad transparisteel window overlooking the Gardens, with a wide vista of the San’Ctus Mountains, there peaks still white with snow, Kage Silman stood, his robes of office immaculate, the Mak’Tor Songsteel sword at his hip.  Attending as extended family, Karm, Arnor, and Ken—in his new koawan robes—were gathered in a place of honor to one side, all three looking resplendent in their ceremonial robes.  Just in front of Kage Silman, D’Aylanna was situated in the position of acting Arbiter, her burgundy and silver robes pristine.  She even wore the crown of her royal position and house: the golden diadem on her brow, a flawless emerald sparkling on her forhead.  Finally, as witness to the ceremony Master Chillum stood as audience surrogate, the venerable master bedecked with his many accolades upon his robes.

A clear, chime rang throughout the office.  In my capacity as custodian, I escorted the initiate within the Kage’s Office, stopping two meters from the Arbiter’s Station, as per Vhal’Dan tradition.  But that soon ended.

Smiling, the Zabrak Kage, looked down upon the initiate, his voice carrying throughout the room.  “Jorya Fah, you have been tested and found worthy to join the ranks of the Knights of the Gray Jedi.  With the confirmation of the Council of Balance I now offer to you the rank of Koawan of the Gray.  Do you come to accept this commission?"

Her face dignified, Jorya gave the traditional Mak’Tor responses.  “I do, Kage Silman.”

Kage Silman turned his attention to me.  Meanowan Zearic Vih’Torr, you are the initiate’s Mentor as well as her Father.  Do you, without reservation, endorse her elevation to the rank of Koawan of the Gray?"

Again, in accordance with Mak’Tor ceremony, I responded, “I do, Kage Silman.”  I practically beamed with pride, D’Aylanna’s face mirroring my own.

His face stern with the weight of ceremony, Kage Silman decreed, “Very well.  Jorya Fah, you have been endorsed by your Mentor and custodian of your Trials.  Present your lightsaber for inspection."

Stepping forward, Jorya offered her gleaming saber hilt to the Zabrak Kage.  Taking it in his hand, he ignited the weapon, the snap-hiss of the purple blade casting a brilliant hue over all in attendance.  With obvious ease, he performed a perfunctory flourish of saber swings, elegant and beautiful.  Closing down the weapon, he attached it to his belt.  Then, grabbing the Songsteel sword at his side, he intoned, “Jorya Fah, please kneel.”

Taking a step forward, standing above Jorya, Kage Silman presented the sword, the bright silver blade steady bare centimeters atop the Togruta’s head.  Again he spoke, his voice full of dignity and authority.  “Jorya Fah, you are found fit to accept the title of Knight of the Vhal’Dan with the rank of Koawan of the Gray by your Mentors and Peers.  Further, you have indicated your willingness to accept the honor and responsibility of this rank.  Do you, Jorya Fah, swear by the Holy Maker that you will honor and defend the Gray Jedi, living by their principle and following the Code of the Vhal’Dan Order?”

“I so swear, Kage Silman.” Jorya’s voice was strong and assured.

The Zabrak’s mouth slightly curved, the ghost of a smile on his face.  "Then having sworn these solemn oaths, I Kage Silman Lo, by right of law and in the name of the Knights of the Vhal’Dan and Kage Oyuna Chan’dn in absentia , dub you Knight..." the blade dipped, faintly touching Jorya’s right shoulder, "...Koawan of the Gray..." he then tapped her left shoulder, "...Knight of the Vhal’Dan."  A final light tap on Jorya’s right shoulder and the Zabrak sheathed the sword.  Looking to D’Aylanna he said, “Arbiter, please record the advancement of our newest koawan in the Book of Balance!”

As one, we all recited the Gray Jedi Code:
“Flowing through all, there is balance
There is no peace without passion to create
There is no passion without peace to guide
Knowledge stagnates without the strength to act
Power blinds without the serenity to see
There is freedom in life
There is purpose in death
The Force is all things and I am the Force”

For as small a group congregated within the Kage’s Offices, our cheers were thunderous, all of us crowding around Jorya as we congratulated her, giving offerings of goodwill and joyfulness to all assembled.  And as Jorya finally was able to face me, I could see a single tear fall from her blue eye, happiness and pride radiating from her as she hugged both D’Aylanna and I.

And softly she said, “Mom…Dad…I love you both more than I could ever say!”  And there, surrounded by the people whom we’d fought side-by-side with, we were truly among family.

See, now that just isn't fair. I struggle to come up with a decent chapter every 2 weeks, and you, Karm and LSG put out 1-2 a day.  >:(

But seeing Karm and Zearic put on edge by each other, that was worth it. But I'm getting scared. Are these dreams just that, dreams? or are they something else? I guess we will just have to see. These Sons of Kessel sure seem to be popping up a lot. Just another cool reference to LSG's tales.

For all Karm and Zearic making up after their little tiff...they didn't really address the essence of the issue i think, differing viewpoints remain at a conceptual level...had it not become personal re Zearic Mother Karmacks father...then they would have been arguing on the basis of ideology and i doubt that would've had such an easy reconciliation attached had it been allowed to go on...in a way making it too personal saved them form a larger argument i think....

At any rate between his nightmares and his till damaged knee...still a lot to recover from it seems...

Thanks TR  ;). And this is a direct lead to "The Gray and the Unchained."

And these dreams are √π∆£€¥¿~   See? SO much better when you know that!

Exactly!  There was no resolution here, too much emotion for either... At best: they agree to disagree.  And the larger issue is too polarizing to be limited to just them...  ;)

You hit the nail on the head LSG: Karm and Zearic have A LOT of wounds that are affecting them still...which is why Arnor and D'Aylanna were so vehement.  Maybe we'll see a "women's trip?"

_{Karm whispers into my ear}...oh that's right...Armor's still recovering and D'Aylanna has to help Zearic with these nightmares...  ;)

Dutchman, nice!  I loved the knighting ceremony, its uniquely Val'Dan.  Nicely done!  Thanks for the great view into M'Tzigon as well.   Your treatment of the Mak'Tor characters is excellent!  Thank you for that.  :-)

And the dreams...  Ouch.  I'd like to chalk some of that up to PTSD, but with that dagger there...  Yeah.  I'd be worried about it.

Very worried.

Interlude-The Samaritan, Part I (Takes place after CH.5 “The Gray & the Unchained” with flashbacks concurrent with Karmack’s “Destruction of a Knight” and directly after “Interlude-Conflagration in the Snow”)

Shutting the door, Ken stood for a moment, his back against the door trying to control his breathing.  The things that Jorya had said had made him…angry.  Sitting down on his bed, he worked at slowing the hammering of his heart, thinking instead of what Scrubber had told them of his plans.

…Plans…

Ken felt adrift without a life-raft. …I…I need help… he thought.  Normally, he would have talked to Jorya but after their…disagreement, he knew that that was not an option.  …Besides, would she even listen…? Ken closed his eyes, trying to let cooler heads prevail.  Even still, the anger kept welling up, threatening to distract him from the real issue.  …Think…!  Trying to collect his thoughts, Ken tried…and failed to focus on something, anything but his anger. …Jorya is being obstinate, deliberately so! He felt like hitting the wall.  …How can anyone reason with her…?  I can’t even imagine how her parents live with her… I would’ve thought that Maenowan Zearic—

He suddenly stopped.  …Maenowan Zearic… He thought about what the big maenowan had told him during his Knighting Ceremony…

After his father had released him from his third hug, his mother proudly beaming with her hand upon Ken’s shoulder, her other arm gingerly supported by a sling beneath her robes, Ken came face-to-face with father’s wide friend.  “Congratulations Ken!  Excuse me, Koawan Kenneniah.”  The big man winked, making way for his regal wife.

Ken shook his head, inhaling slowly then exhaling, Singing a Memory motif…

…Surrounded by a few other koawans, Ken heard one of them talking about stormtroopers: “I have never met one that wasn’t a kriffing buckethead.”  Ken was about to speak when he heard a deep, baritone voice boom from behind him.

“Then perhaps you need to get out more.”  Maenowan Zearic’s voice was hard; his face was even harder.  “Don’t make arbitrary judgments from your decidedly limited experience.”

As the big man turned to leave, Ken called to him: “Maenowan…you know different.  Would you please share with us your experience?”  Looking at each of the young koawans and then finally at Ken, the big man focused on him but spoke to everyone there, beginning with a desperate fight on the planet Belassar…

            <<<<< >>>>>

Sighting down the shaft of the arrow, Ralen Yorul waited motionless as the boarwolf tentatively sniffed at the shaak meat that he’d left as bait.  …Just a little more… the stormtrooper thought, his camouflaged light armor obscuring his profile from most predators…and the Rebels that had attempted to annex Belassar.  They’d been ruthless, killing several trooper units in surprise attacks, sometimes so full of bloodlust that the Rebels were often among the Imperial casualties, victims of their own traps.

The Empire had been quick to respond to the eco-terrorists, establishing several forward positions throughout the southern continent, most of the action taking place in Ralen’s latest detail in the Viridias Forest.  Already he’d been in over half a dozen skirmishes, the latest the most costly: almost a quarter of his squad had been killed in a cowardly Rebel ambush.  Intent on saving as many of his trooper brethren as he could, Ralen told his lieutenant that he would ensure the rest of the squad’s retreat although—in truth—he had other ideas than self-sacrifice.  No, he would be the Empire’s vengeance, retribution against those who thought that they knew war.

Now they would know what real war was about.  Or so the Rebels learned as the “Shade of Belassar” killed each and all of them one by one leaving no trace, no evidence that it was a man whom they faced.  No, as far as the Rebels were concerned it was a resurrected Sith-wraith from the nearby abandoned Temple deep within the Viridias Forest. 

By now Ralen had been in-country for a couple weeks, living off of the land despite winter’s cold blanketing the forest with both snow and a deep freeze.  He could see the hot breath of the boarwolf as it inhaled deeply, the fresh meat and hot blood too much of a temptation to pass up.  Greedily, the enormous creature thrust forward, tearing and shredding the meat as it took great gulping mouthfuls.  …Now… And with that, Ralen loosed, the laconic arrow flying true, striking the boarwolf between the armor plates sinking deep in its neck.

Incredibly, the animal sank to the ground, dead.  His arrow had severed the central nerve cluster in the cervical node within the boarwolf’s neck.  Slowly exhaling, Ralen allowed himself to relax; with this kill, he could eat for a month.  Slowly walking to the downed animal, he pulled out a stout vibroblade cutting through the hard plate and bone, decapitating the creature; there were no usable parts within the head.  Then hoisting the animal’s broad carcass, he lifted the entire body over and onto his shoulders, heading back to his camp.

As he walked, he kept thinking about the Rebels.  Ralen had seen neither hide nor hair of them for the last couple of days, not since that sniper had almost gotten the drop on him.  Luckily, his instincts had warned him that the normal forest sounds had been decidedly…quiet.  Well, if the Rebels happened to come across the body of that sniper he hoped that they did so before the boarwolves got to it.  He knew that the Rebels would get a clear message; he’d had to burn the clothes that he’d worn when he was done with the body.  No amount of cleaning would ever get out that much blood…

Suddenly, the air around Ralen felt…electric…the atmosphere….oppressive.  Moving slowly, Ralen sank towards the forest floor, shrugging the boarwolf’s body from his shoulders.  Deliberately, he hoisted his blaster rifle to the ready, his eyes scanning the entire forest.  He knew that unless he moved, no one would be able to detect him. …Patience…

At first, he thought he’d heard an explosion.  But even looking around, none of the snow looked disturbed, none of the trees branches had moved, none of the animals had bolted.  Yet…

…Yes…there.  Towards the forest vale, Ralen knew that he’d heard…voices; one a deep baritone, almost a bass… The other: almost…mechanical.  Shadows were more conspicuous compared to Ralen moving through the forest.  As he made his way deeper and lower to the forest basin the voices stopped.  Still, he had a vector…

Suddenly, as he moved from behind a copse of trees, he saw two men, one almost completely covered in black towering above another man, wide and sitting prone against a tree.  Again, Ralen scanned the scene, taking in the minutiae.  The man in black turned, walking away from the large man.  Now that he could see his other side, Ralen noticed that the man’s helmet had a hole in it as if…cut by something.  He spoke again, his voice sounding…filtered.

“…Tell her…that Rowahn sends his apologies…and go home to Jorya”  Then the man in black walked away without a backwards glance.  Ralen didn’t know anything about a “Jorya” but he’d heard the other name before…

Rowahn.

Even word from the Joint Admiralty had been furtive concerning Lord Vader and his Inquisitorious…but there were always whispers.  Especially throughout the Barracks, those kind of rumors spread like wildfire: failure was always a point of contention with Lord Vader.  And the latest tales told of one of the Dark Lord’s favorites losing position, his charge assigned to an outside contractor, Caedon Ti-rell. 

Ralen’s eyes narrowed in thought; one never wanted to so much as report failure to Lord Vader, much less be responsible.  The universe had little tolerance for fools

A noise recalled him from his ruminations.  The big man.  Again, without moving, he was able to focus on the target…or rather the left flank of the man.  Slowly Ralen stalked forward and around, never once making a sound.  Now he could see the man in profile, his face obscured by the blood that covered the left side of his face.  Ralen noticed that he did not have his left eye.  Unsurprising, that.  Silently as he continued his circuit more details slowly became apparent: he was bigger than Corporal Boaz, the squad’s heavy-weapons operator, he was missing his right hand or at least the cybernetic had been…crushed as if in a mechanical press, and the man was not so much sitting on the tree stump as he was impaled by it.  …I’m surprised he’s still alive… Sharply, he came to a stop, Ralen’s breath catching in his throat.  …By the Emperor… Dashel?!

He couldn’t believe it; the man could have been his brother’s twin…if Dashel had weighed 50 kilograms more.  Still…the short, shaved dark brown hair, the heavily muscled, clean-shaven jowls, the trimmed beard and mustache.  Suddenly, the man looked up at Ralen, his right eye staring directly at him.  …Now that’s different… Instead of Dashel’s light blue eyes, the big man had the fiercest hazel eyes: red surrounding the pupil encircled by brown rimmed with green.

Silently, the man stared at Ralen, neither saying a word nor making any movement.  And before he’d even realized that he’d made a choice, Ralen lowered his blaster and took the medkit from his backpack.  Examining the big man’s wounds, Ralen considered the impalement to be the worst injury.  As he opened his medkit with his one hand, he unsheathed his vibroknife with his other.  “I am going to look at the branch behind you.” He said.  The big man gave a slight nod, closing his right eye.

Kneeling down, Ralen could see that the branch was fairly smooth, no bark or protrusions.  Moreover, the branch had about 10 centimeters between the big man’s back and the trunk of the tree.  …Good, I can easily cut this… Expertly, the vibroblade cut through the branch, freeing the man from the trunk.  He barely made a sound, only uttering “Thanks” under his breath.

Ralen inspected the branch.  Again using his vibroblade to cut the wood, he clipped the branch mere centimeters from the man’s stomach.  Readying his medkit, he looked right at the man’s remaining eye.  “I am going to withdraw the branch.  As soon as it is clear, I will spray the wound with poly-bacta.  But I will have to cauterize both sides.  Are you ready?”  The big man merely nodded, again his breathing the loudest thing about him.

Ralen kneeled behind the man, his cauterizer within easy reach, the poly-bacta spray in his right hand.  Grabbing the branch with his left, he gently said, “Now.”  Moving with expert precision, Ralen pulled the branch free, spraying the entrance wound just as soon as the wood cleared the skin.  Then, he pivoted around, spraying the man’s stomach where the branch had exited.  Before he was done, he picked up the cauterizer with his left, applying it to the man’s back, his quick inhale testament to the pain.  Quickly switching the cauterizer to his right, he pressed on the man’s stomach, again sealing the wound.  Now the poly-bacta could do its work, repairing damaged tissues and organs.

Once again, the big man spoke one word.  “Thanks.”  He then abruptly lost consciousness.  Unsurprised, Ralen continued his triage, spraying the man’s left eye socket and right…stump on his arm.  That done, he gently gathered the man, laying him down on the forest floor, covering him with a thermal blanket from his medkit.

He looked around, searching for large, straight branches to fashion an improvised stretcher.  Finding what he needed, he was able to fabricate one in a short time, moving the big man onto it and dragging him back to Ralen’s camp.  Once there, he broke into his MRE rations, mixing portions until the contents were edible.  Even before he’d finished, he saw that the man was awake.  “What’s your name?”  Ralen asked, his quiet voice carrying no further than the camp perimeter.

Instead of answering, the big man looked around.  “You…helped me?”  So, this was the owner of the deep baritone voice he’d heard.  Ralen nodded, continuing to prepare the soup, his eyes darting around as he kept watch on his surroundings.  “Thank you.”  Something with the way that the big man spoke… “I…I am in your debt.”  He coughed, pain racking his body.  “…Tell me, please…did you…see a…woman?”  Ralen briefly shook his head, relating his tale to the big man.  Odd that; he wasn’t usually so…candid, especially to one whom he’d only met.  …But gods he looks like Dashel…

Dashel Yorul, his eldest brother.  The reason that Ralen wanted to join the Imperial Academy.  His role model and best friend…dead almost seventeen years.  ...Dammit… he thought as his emotions threatened to break loose, unbidden.  Clearing his throat, Ralen shook his head.  “No.  No woman.”  Thinking that would be an end to it, he was shocked to see that the big man was attempting to rise.

“…I…I must…find…my wife.”  Rising shakily to his feet, the man stood, his knees wobbly.  He then collapsed nearly hitting his head on the shelter that Ralen had constructed.

…Damned fool, do you want the wounds to break open…? Ralen thought but said nothing, grabbing the man and getting him settled once again.  “You need to rest or you will bleed out.”  Ralen sighed, again uncertain as to why he felt…compelled to help.  “…I…I will go look for your…wife.”  He shouldered his blaster rifle, placing the hot soup in front of the big man.  “Tell me what to look for; I can track virtually anything as long as I have a good idea of my target.”  Those were the most words that Ralen had spoken since he’d been on Belassar.

The big man’s eye closed, his face almost relaxing.  “…Thank you…my wife, small, 1.57 meters, 55 kilograms, delicate, wearing silver and burgundy hooded robe…dark, olive skin…” His voice trailing off as he became insensate momentarily.  Suddenly, his eye snapped open.  “…There, that way…north-by-northeast, half a kilometer…there…”  This time the big man did not regain consciousness.

The Samaritan, Part II

Ralen sighed, thinking about the man’s precise directions.  He had heard of people that could give accurate measurements and observations—Ralen was one himself—but it was still…disconcerting, the way that the big man said it.  Almost as if he were…witnessing the exact position.  Mentally shrugging, Ralen quietly made his way through the forest.

Using the big man’s directions, Ralen already had the necessary vector.  Despite his meticulous and silent pace, he made good time.  He easily found the woman that the big man had described.  She was lying on the ground, her breathing ragged and uneven.  Ralen knew that portended something serious.  Kneeling down, he put his ear to her chest, carefully listening.  …Yes…just as I thought… He was no doctor but Ralen had absorbed all that he could from the Battalion medics.  Her lung had collapsed.

Again, opening his medkit, Ralen removed a polysteel tube.  Cutting one end at an angle, he sprayed the cut end liberally with poly-bacta.  Feeling along the small woman’s upper chest with his finger, Ralen nodded to himself.  And, with the quickness of a surgeon, he plunged the tube in between the small woman’s ribs.  Immediately, air flowed through the tube, filling her lung while the bacta fortified the injured organ.  Using his thumb to simulate breathing, Ralen’s other hand was busy loading an injector with a nano-bacta supplement.  He placed the loaded injector on the small woman’s neck, pulling the trigger.  Within a minute, she was breathing almost regularly.

Knowing that the small woman weighed a fraction of her husband, Ralen picked her up, delicately carrying her.  Even as he made his way back to camp, he kept ever vigilant scanning the forest.  Darkness had fallen by the time he arrived back at his campsite, the big man still in the same position that Ralen had left him earlier.  

For moment Ralen paused, looking from the big man to his “tent.”  Again, not even realizing it, he was already in motion having made up his mind.  He placed the small, dark woman in his tent and bedroll, giving her another nano-bacta injector shot.  Then, remembering the boarwolf carcass, he went to retrieve it where he’d dropped it.  Thankfully, it was still there.  Again shouldering the body, he brought it back to his camp, preparing it by a simple coating of saline solution, ensuring the meat’s freshness.

He then got his blaster rifle and, finding a fairly comfortable spot along the trunk of an enormous coniferous tree, spent an intense night between looking after the injured man and woman and keeping a watch on the forest.

It was during the dead of night that he thought that he’d heard some noise.  Granted, it could have been an animal but…Ralen didn’t think so.  He trusted his instincts for a reason.  The larger of Belassar’s two moons was a waning crescent, the night lit by ever dimming light as clouds obscured the moon.  Slowly, he made his way towards where he’d heard the noise, away from camp.  Ralen knew that he had the correct vector but had not heard anything at all since the initial sound.  Crouching down, he again scanned the forest.

Nothing.

No sounds, no movement, no signs of life.  Nothing at all.  Noticing that he’d actually gone quite far from camp, he started to make his way back when some movement caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.  Again by instinct, he hit the forest floor as a nano-carbon fiber sheered through the air, right at the level that his head had been.  Several blaster bolts followed, attempting to track him in the darkness of night.  Seeing the origin of the blaster fire, Ralen aimed and returned fire.  A curse and a scream told of his marksmanship, the two Rebels frantically attempting to flee from Ralen as he stalked ever closer to them.  He came upon the Rebel that had screamed; he was screaming now.  Looking around, Ralen scrutinized the forest seeing only the lone would-be assailant.  The man’s screams cut off suddenly as Ralen’s blaster shot burned a hole in the man’s chest, killing him instantly.  But he knew that there were at least two more out in the night…

And even as he was looking for the other Rebels, the saw—too late—the oddly blinking light on the man’s utilities that he’d just shot.  Quickly inhaling, Ralen went to run, to jump, to get away but the Rebel’s body suddenly exploded, the trap having been activated.

Ralen was good; he’d been able to minimize the effects of the blast by putting a couple of trees between him and the bomb but he was not able to escape it completely unscathed.  Trying desperately to clear his head, Ralen attempted to regain his feet.  But it was too late; the two other Rebels came upon him, pummeling Ralen with the stocks of their blasters.

“So…” came a contemptible voice, “This is the Sith-wraith we’ve all been so scared of?!” A grizzled man stared straight into Ralen’s eyes, hitting him with the butt of his blaster pistol.  “Well…looks like just a man t’ me.”  The grizzled man spit in Ralen’s face, punching him in the stomach for good measure.  Then, grabbing Ralen by his hair he jammed the barrel of the pistol in his face.  “I’m goin’ to make you bleed bad, imp.  And there’s no one out ‘ere t’ help you.”  He raised his face to his comrade.  “Sandor!  C’mere, got us our ‘imp Sith-wraith.’”  As the other man approached, the grizzled man then pistol-whipped Ralen, breaking his nose in the process.  “You’re gonna be a long time ‘n dyin’ imp.”  Sandor began laughing, clearly enjoying Ralen’s torment.

But he wouldn’t give them anything, these Rebel terrorists.  Even as they beat him, he didn’t make so much as a single noise…which caused to enrage the men more.  Finally, when they’d tired of kicking Ralen, the grizzled man holstered his blaster and produced an old-fashioned edged metal knife.  “Now the real fun begins…”  Ralen did not so much as blink as the sharpened steel cut into his cheek towards his eye.

“Stop.  Now.”  A deep voice sounded from the forest causing both men to start.

“…Wha’…Sandor what was that?”  But even as he asked his partner, again the voice spoke.

“If you do not release that man, you will regret it.”  Still the two men exchanged looks to one another.

The grizzled man finally grew a bit of backbone.  “…No!  ‘f you don’ show yerself then…I’ll…I’ll kill him!”  Sandor nodded, a grin appearing upon his face.

Without preamble, both men suddenly flew straight up in the air, crashing back down to the ground hard.  Even injured as he was, Ralen knew that he hadn’t imagined…that.  …What the hell…?

Then, he first heard and then saw the big man step from behind a tree, a steadying arm upon the trunk.  Tentatively, he approached, each step clearly putting him in agony.  As he reached out, he half-grabbed, half-leaned upon Ralen.  “…I…I couldn’t let them do that…to you.”  The big man closed his eye.  “Besides…I owe you more than I could possibly repay you.”  He pulled Ralen up from his knees, both men leaning upon the other for support as they slowly made their way back to camp.

“…Thank you.” Ralen’s quiet voice whispered through the night, his gratitude evident in his tone.

The big man shook his head.  “No.  Thank you.  Like I said…” His voice trailed off but when he spoke again, it sounded clear and stronger than he’d ever heard.  “Zearic.  Zearic Vih’Torr.  My name.”  He gasped breaths between talking.  “And that is my wife, D’Aylanna.  You have my thanks.”

As they continued to walk, Ralen’s thoughts still lingered on his dead brother.  Would he have saved this man if he hadn’t looked like Dashel he had wondered.  Mentally shrugging, he decided he didn’t care.

“Well met, Zearic.  I’m Ralen Yorul.”  Together, the two men limped back to camp where they found a mostly recovered D’Aylanna who helped them both…

            <<<<< >>>>>

Maenowan Zearic’s deep voice quieted, his face wistful in memory.  “We’d kept in touch sporadically throughout the years but last I spoke to Ralen was…he was on Nar Shadda.”  Then his eyes adopted a predatory focus.  “So…next time you think you know everything, remember that you can fill it to the brim when you ‘feed the sarlacc.’”  He turned away, a scowl on his face.

One of the koawans—the one that had spoken out of turn—turned to Ken, utterly confused.  “What did he mean by that?”

Ken slowly turned to him trying not to show his contempt.  “He meant…that what you know would be fit to fill the lavatory.  Excuse me.”  And he left the koawan alone among the crowd…

Ken inhaled, the Memory motif slowly fading calando.  But he had answers or at least one.  He just hoped that he could get ahold of the one person Ken thought could help him in this particular instance.

Ralen Yorul, mercenary, former stormtrooper, and resident of Nar Shadda.  

Nar Shadda.  Deep in Hutt Space…

Well.  ROAD TRIP!  :-)

I'm not going to pretend I didn't have some input on this one, but Dutchman that's GREAT!  I wondered how Zearic got out of that one.  I didn't realize he made friends with a sith-wraithe!  ;-)

Seriously, that's a great tie-in and as always a wonderful job telling the tale.  I sincerely hope we see MUCH more of our good Samaritan in the future!  And maybe some more about why Zearic looks so much like Dashel.  Just a coincidence, I am sure...  ;-)

Ralen reminds me a little of Ethan Playn form TR' Shadows of the outcast...helping out a fallen force user even though they're a stranger...

Makes me wonder if maybe there is some kind of instinctual signal that an injured force sensitive sends in the force that can subconsciously effect peoples mind to help them out....hmmm there's  thought....

Obviously a very competent person, he shows the best of what the Empire was, dedicated, self sacrificing, it would be interesting to see more of his reasoning, I suspect he's a bit of a 'its not perfect but its legitimate' thinking about the Empire. Also good to see how a non-force user reacts to what he's seeing...with all our stories having force users in them we can tend to forget just what an impact simple techniques would have on non-users who see them, so glad you put those bits in, as well as peole like Rowahn being basically almost Myths amongst the common soldiers (ref Episode VII Luke - I thought he was a Myth!)

Loved that Interlude. Ralen seems like a great character to me. Hehe. I can't wait to see where you go with him.

There's a good point, something that might be worth exploring - The Empire, for all that its core was evil (Because ... Sith Lords) it was still a legitimate government.  For most of the worlds in the Empire things wouldn't have changed LOCALLY at all from Republic to Empire. Sure, in places like Jedda there were differences, and I doubt Alderaan was down with the new management, but for your basic off-the-beaten-path world...  Or someplace like Kuat... 

"Meet the new boss.  Just like the old boss..."

Something to explore there.  Definitely something to explore.  :-)

For something a bit different to my recent chapters....

Long ago the Goddesses were arguing amongst themselves over which was more powerful.

Each insisted her powers were the greatest, they could not agree amongst themselves.  But the Goddesses loved each other and did not like fighting…but nor could they now ignore the question that had arisen amongst them.

So they went down to the river lands and found Alixa who was watering her herd.  

The appeared on the waters before her and told her about their disagreement and asked her to judge between them.

Alixa was clever and sat on a boulder to think.  As she was thinking Aertemisaea approached her.

“If you choose me, I will make you the greatest mortal warrior that ever was or could be, you will never taste defeat, or injury, your strength will never diminish and you will never weary”

Alixa continued to think

Then Aethenaea approached her,
“If you choose me I will make you wisest mortal that ever was or could be, you will understand how events flow from each other so with a single action you can achieve any goal, you will know how to make things as large as star and as small as stand, no mind or cunning will be beyond your grasp”

Alixa continued to think

Then Aphrodaea approached her,
“If you choose me I will make you the most beautiful woman that ever was or could be, everyone will desire you, the most beautiful mortals will beg for your glance, you will make love endlessly, your pleasure only increasing with each moment, you will never tire from it.”

Alixa continued to think until the sun set and the Goddesses came to hear her judgment.

“This is my judgment,” she said turning to Aertemisaea first
“What use is strength without the wisdom to know how to direct it? What use is strength if you have no loves to protect?  You are not the most powerful.”

Then she turned to Athenaea,
“What use is wisdom without the strength to enact it? What use is wisdom without love to give your love many things but never stir their heart? You are not the most powerful.”

The she turned to Aphrodaea
“What use is love without the wisdom to know whom to love, to see through deceptions of false friends?  What use is love without the strength to protect those you love from harm?  You are not the most powerful.”

The Goddesses looked at each other, Alixa feared they would be unhappy with her, but then they smiled, they remembered they loved each other, and had the wisdom to put aside their disagreement the strength to embrace each other once more.  

Then Aethenaea spoke to Alixa

“You have shown great wisdom to see that alone each of us is not powerful,”

The Aertemisaea spoke
“You have shown great strength and courage to tell a Goddess her weakness before her very face, and great boldness to do it thrice,”

Then Aephrodaea spoke

“You have shown great compassion and love to remind us that we need each other and to tell us our weakness with gentleness,”

Delighted the Goddesses decided to give Alixa a new name, now she was called Alixaea, and they realised they had no need to bless her, for she had already shown she was the strongest, wisest and most beautiful of all mortals by her judgement.
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“Did that really happen?” Kiraea asked incredulous

“Did a Vorynx really sneak into the house and eat your shoes and nothing else?” Karintha replied having finished her story for the night.

Kiraea opened her mouth about to say something….them thought better of it and remained quiet, Yorna simply stroked her younger sister’s hair, pausing briefly from her stitching of a new pair of shoes for her…the third in as many months.

“It happened just now Kiraea, with every telling it happens again and again,”

“That’s cause the Goddesses are always around us and in us isn’t it Aunty,” Yorna added,

“That’s right, every time you act wisely you are Aethenaea, every time you are strong and courageous you are Aertemisaea, and every time you are loving and caring you are Aephrodaea…but we have to remember to be the full Goddess…”  she fixed Kiraea’s gaze

“That means having the wisdom to guide your courage and energy in ways that don’t end up with you losing another pair of shoes in the forest, and remembering that it’s not very loving to rely on your sister to always have to make you new pairs and have no time to mend her own things,”  

Kiraea shuffled uncomfortably then turned to her sister,

“I’m sorry Yorna….” Yorna set down her work and hugged her sister in forgiveness,

As Kiraea tried somewhat unhelpfully to assist Yorna, Karintha was satisfied she had got the message…

Still she worried Kiraea might not remember it if she and Yorna were not there to remind her.

OK THIS was one of my most favorite chapters LSG!  Not only as an Aesop, but also as a wonderful bit of insight into Kiraea's character (or perhaps lack).  And the tripartite answer(s) mirroring the goddesses was perfect!

Really reminds me of the myths I would read in my childhood.  Wonderful!

Yes, this was absolutely wonderful. The obviousness of it being a myth or bedtime story, but at the same time taken from our own Greek myths, that was great. It doesn't matter that I instantly knew exactly what was happening or how it was going to end up, the only thing that matters is that you successfully told a story and got the message across that you were trying to, as well as write it in a believable way for your portion of the universe. Excellently done.

LSG, that was cool!  Thank you for sharing!

Now...  Can we leave this on a stone tablet somewhere for Kiraea to find???  ;-)

A bit of background for a relationship that will become increasingly important.....

[/b]
She twisted her neck from side to side as she stepped onto the training mats for the first time in six months. 

Her legs still felt restless every night, but she’d finished up her last formal rehab session the day before.

She only recognised a few of the faces, this class under Master Hk’Tn was for 16 to 18 year olds, she was the odd one out having just turned twenty…it hadn’t been much of a celebration, her Master Soryu was away again, most of the friends she had before were now knighted and off on their own missions.

She was left behind, struggling to get back into the flow so she could undertake the trials that her coma had delayed.

She followed the direction of Hk’Tn to line up against the burly Chandrillian Oma, she was ahead taller than Sofa and twice as wide at least, often teased she recalled as being half Herglic.  Sofa gave her a warm smile, they both knew what it was like to have people snipe behind their back.

Hk’Tn hit the buzzer and he round began.
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She landed on her butt heavily on the training matt, felling the duracrete underneath.  Sixth round…sixth loss…at least she’d probably win the next round, the score board showed her next opponent hadn’t won at all. She got up and dusted herself off with a quick stretch of her left leg that had suffered the most from her nearly two month coma.

Over to the side Magin was joking around with Ayrck, as she glanced their way she saw them glance at her, Aryck leaned over and whispered something to Magin causing them both to snigger. 

She bit her lip in annoyance as she realised her recent coma and rehab had done nothing to diminish the spread of her reputation. 

“Umm…we’ve started…” came a soft voice form her next opponent.  She shook her thoughts off and turned to him…she’d never seen him before, he looked a little older than the others, short brown hair, grey eyes and a half glum half nervous expression that marred what might have been a handsome face if it were smiling.

“Right…” She swung out with a left hook that caught on his right forearm as he responded with a low kick.  She sidestepped and got into her groove, he was quick and proficient but didn’t seem to be able to know when to take the numerous opportunities he had to land a finishing blow, after a minute and a half she finally punched the big red sensor on his chest to score the win.

He looked a little deflated,

“Hey better luck next time,” she said to cheer him,

“Umm yeah…thanks…” he turned to head to the next match up then paused,

“uh…I wanted to say…I hope you’re feeling better after…”

“Oh thanks, yeah” he was the first one to have said anything

“Hey I don’t think we’ve met I’m Sofa, Sofa Neirai,”

He nodded, his eyes darting around to Magin and Aryck
“Yeah I know…They shouldn’t say those things about you…” he finished up oddly before heading off leaving her a little confused as to who he was and what was up with him.

Her next few rounds went much better, she lost 3 won 2, but got some good limb points.  As she fell back from Magins hit the bell sounded and he helped her up,

“Thanks,”

“No worries, hey I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime, me and the guys are getting some Zygerian rolls later,”

He seemed sincere enough, and she didn’t really have any reason not to

“Uh…sure I’d like that,”
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She was just finishing up her shower in the change rooms when she overheard the whiny voice of Bellana talking to Soresa,

“She’s already hitting on Magin can you believe it!”

“Once a tralk always a tralk, that coma story is all bull, I heard she was sent to Dantooine after what happened with Nura’n Deen,”

She just bit her lip and headed past as she opened the door silencing their conversation.
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As it turned out only Magin was getting some Zygerian rolls at the small store across the temple plaza…apparently the others had study to catch up on.  But free rolls were free rolls,

“So you taking the trials soon,” he asked absently flicking a stray piece of nerf meat into his mouth.

“Hopefully, once I get back into my groove physically,” she inwardly cringed at how slutty that sounded

“Cool, so you like music?”
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Magins small room was at the far end of the hall, she was so looking forward to hearing the latest Blazing Comets track. 

“I love Stars Burning it was the coolest,” she said as he fumbled around for the player,

“Yeah it was pretty cool, have a seat,” he gestured to the bed as the music started to play,

It was a little faster than their previous tracks but still pretty good,

“Must’ve been real lonely in that coma…” Magin began,

“Yeah…well you don’t notice so much…it’s like…a light switch guess,”

“You have such nice hair, so dark and sultry,” he said his fingers trailing through the ends as he shifted closer and she realised where this was headed,
“look Magin…you’re a nice guy, and thanks for taking me out…but this is a bit fast,”
“Come on…” he pressed closer his hand on her knee,
“You’ve been cooped up in rehab so long you need to have some fun, you said so yourself…”
She had said that…still,
“Magin…I don’t know maybe we should get to know each other better first,”
“I already know you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire temple,”

“Ha ha real smooth,” she slid his hand off and got up, “Look I..I should go,”

He grabbed her hand, “come on you haven’t even heard the whole album yet,”

She tugged out of his grip, “I’ll listen to it later,” He stood a head above her

“What’s your problem, everyone knows you’re always up for it,”

She was about to slap him when there was a knock at the door,

He gave her an annoyed look then pushed past to open it…there was no one there, she immediately darted out knocking him into the wall on the way out.

She could feel herself start to tear up as she ran down the hall, not noticing the quiet brown haired padawan from earlier that day watching her.
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As soon as she stepped into the gym the sniggering started…the rumours, the gossiping…even though they were meant to be above such things it still happened.

Even Oma gave her an odd look as she partnered up for the tag run through the obstacle course with the brown haired padawan whose name she must’ve forgotten. In the end for want of anyone else she had to partner with Aryck, Magins crony.

The course was 600 metres long weaving through the gym, a series of jump, switch and slide obstacles that required two people to complete the challenge areas.
The bell sounded and they headed off.  It was fine at first, Aryck was taller so she would hold him up so his longer arms could reach the switched or grasp the ledges, they reached a section where he had to lift her through a duct too small for him, as he lifted her up he stared,

“Cute,” he said simply,

It got worse after that, at every challenge where they had to lift or pull each other he took gratuitous advantage to accidently touch her butt, or slide his hands over her shoulder onto her breast. She wanted to slap him…but as it was she couldn’t do anything to risk her chance of taking the trials as soon as possible.

When it was over they tallied up the time and scores for hitting hidden objective buttons scattered through the course.  Oma and her partner…Valens that was the name…had come first…fastest score by half a minute and every hidden objective hit, she glanced over as the pair high fived…she could hardly believe it looking at the odd pairing.

She and Aryck had come second to last.  “Sucks, maybe we should hang back later, run the course a few times just the two of us,” he suggested, his sweaty breath close to her face,

“I don’t think so you creep,”

“Come on don’t be like that, we can have fun, Magin tells me you’re always up for it,” She had suspected, but this was confirmation Magin was spreading lies about her…it was bad enough before her coma…it would be worse now.
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It followed her all day…everyone she passed in the corridors seemed to look at her accusingly…

Even in the lecture hall people avoided sitting near her as it filled up.  The debate series was quite popular, it had Padawans debate Council members on issues of the day each randomly assigned for or against, a way to teach both how to understand both sides of a problem, and also encourage padawans to get to know the council members. 

Today Gurrlum was debating Padawan Valens on the topic of Economic disadvantage as mitigating factor in criminal responsibility.  The lanky Gado Gurrlum was taking the con position, arguing that economic disadvantage was not related and should not be considered when assessing criminal responsibility, Valens was for.

She wasn’t that interested…personally she couldn’t see how being poor was an excuse to murder someone…but it distracted her…and if she didn’t show herself publically people would think she was afraid of the rumours.

Gurrlum made a good opening argument, that to preserve the rule of law economic disadvantage in term of poverty could not be considered a mitigating factor, or else one must consider a rich man’s crimes worse for having less need to steal which undermined the concept of equality before the law for the same crime. 

She wasn’t expecting much from the fumbling Valens as he nervously looked about the room, so far every sentence she’d heard him speak was half ‘umm’ she really couldn’t figure how he was Yoda’s apprentice.

Then he began speaking…He argued eloquently that where poverty resulted in economic and social systems that required behaviour that was considered criminal in the Republic to simply survive, these people should not be considered as responsible on the basis that Republic law could not adequately encompass their lived experience to the point it was not applicable by them – they were outside the law because they did not live in a law bound society.  Where this came into contact with Republic law enforcement, to not take this into consideration was to deny the lived experience of the accused and was just as unfair as if a court were to ignore a mental health issue in sentencing. 

Gurrlums rejoinders were just as good though, and by the end the judges and the crowd had agreed with Gurrlums main points based on the consequence notably that it would prove impossible to determined what level of economic disadvantage should be considered given the wide disparities of income across the republic – no one could say where the line should be drawn.

They all applauded, Gurrlum warmly shook Valens hand and whispered to him on a job well done.  Sofa sat slightly shocked, slightly fascinated by him.
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She plonked some Bantha stew on her plate and looked around for a seat in the mess hall…she finally settled on the only other person who looked like they were alone, Valens sitting quietly drinking copious amounts of milk while flicking though one of half a dozen datapads.

“Hey,” she said scooting across from him,

“Oh…ummm…hi…sorry I’ll move…”

“What no, it’s fine, why would you think you need to move…”
He looked around confused,

“Oh usually…people want to sit together and I’m in the way or in their spot or something…”
Strange she thought,

“You really did well in the debate today…I thought you should’ve won…”

“huh…yeah thanks…no that’s fine…I don’t like to win any way…”

“Wait why not?”

“Eye of the Vorynx…” she didn’t know what a vorynx was, “Oh its…like if you’re on top, then everyone will be out to get you…”

“Right…that makes sense,” it didn’t really

“Jeez Sofa, the retard…how low can you go,” Bellana suddenly sad coming up behind her with Soresa

“Anything with a phallus….” Soresa added

She was tempted to turn and slap the bitches…but she didn’t need that kind of mark against her name.

“Or digits to get up there!” Bellana chuckled

“Yeah probably a…Frell,” Soresa’s tray suddenly slipped her stew and drink pouring all over her front,

“You nerf header your such a clu…” Bellana’s gloating ended as hers slipped as well…

Daggers from her eyes, Sofa could feel Bellana trying to sense if anyone had done that using the force…but there was no trace to be found.

“Here, let me help you clean up,” Valens said standing to assist them,

“Fine, it’s all you’re probably good for," Bellana commented "I hear most failed padawans end up as janitors,”
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[/b]

She sat on the floor of her room, naked and alone, twirling her sabre in her hands, wondering…just wondering what it would feel like…

She paused and pressed the cool metal between her breasts…her finger dancing on the activation switch….wondering just wondering what it would feel like to…

Her comm suddenly chimed, brought out of her almost nightly dance with death she flicked on the screen,

>>To: Neirai.Sofa@ JT.PADAW
>>From: Lyssiason.Valens@ JT.PADAW
>>Thought this might help with your Trials…Sure you’ll get there soon…
>>Don’t listen to those pfassks
Attachment: Trials_Notes.Doc

The attachment was a copy paste job with Valens notes about Jedi trials taken from what must’ve been hundreds of old holo-books…his notes detailed the connecting threads, the most common philosophies tested and the best ways to answer questions.  It must’ve taken him months to do this…odd she never remembered seeing him before the coma…
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There was a commotion outside the Gym when she arrived the next morning,

“What’s happening?” she asked Oma,

“huh…oh…check it out,”  
Behind the crowd of amused onlookers a Temple technician with a fusion cutter was slicing one of the ducts from the training course that was stuck on Magin – all that could be seen of him was a pair of legs, the duct looked like it had been fused shut at the end…it was more than big enough for him to fit…yet it looked like it had compressed around him.  Aryck was nearby nursing a bloody nose and a bruised eye where something had smacked him in the face.

“They were in early doing a practice run together…don’t know what happened,”

“Pretty embarrassing huh,” came a familiar voice behind her.

“Deen…” she turned quickly

Nura’n Deen…tall, dark and handsome, they had gone through most of their years together, been slated to take the trials only two day apart till her coma had robbed her of it.  He was Knight Deen now,

“Hey Sof, good to see you again, once you’re done with your lessons why don’t we catch up at the old hang out, I’m only on Cosuscant for a few days between missions,”

“Uh…sure…” she replied as Master Hk’Tn arrived followed by the ever morose Valens.
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Fortunately, even after a few months hidden under her bed, the lipstick was still moist enough to go on smoothly.  She dabbed it all off, she couldn’t get caught wearing it in the temple.

The day had been a rush and an eternity at once…she and Deen had been together – well together as two padawan’s could be – before her coma…

He had been one of the few guys who stuck around longer than one make out session…she had even planned after his trial to…well undergo another more personal initiation with him…despite the rumours she’d already frelled half the padawans.  

She frowned checking there was no sleep or anything in her eyes, she hadn’t wanted he reputation she’d gotten, no one would.  She had just wanted someone to talk to, to spoil her a bit…more than a friend…and she’d found it…but as soon as those first few boys had gotten under her shirt…they just kept pushing and she just wasn’t ready…she wanted someone committed to her.  

Every time she’d think this one will be different, and every time it was the same…they’d memorise every detail of her body she’d show them, but wouldn’t know a thing about what she liked, what she thought, how she felt….but as soon as she dumped them the rumours would begin again, that she was just sleeping around, hungry for any kind of male appendage she could get her mouth around…

Pictures, graffiti…and worse the nicknames…Slutfest Sofa, Six Credit Sofa after she allegedly Ryloth-kissed a Sephi who had bought her a Bluemilk shake for six credits.  He had bought her the shake but nothing more than talking happened.

At least Deen hadn’t fallen into those rumours.  She used her comm holo-picter to take a quick photo of herself from behind to make sure she looked ok from all angles. She needed to look like a woman if not a Knight for Deen.

Then the coma…she and Deen had only being going for a few weeks…now everyone assumed that her coma was a cover story - taking advantage or the real coma’s others had suffered- for her and Deen getting caught in the act.

As she headed out Valens was meandering though the quiet halls of the Temple, seemingly fascinated by what looked like an empty old storage room.  

“Hey,” she said,

He seemed not to notice her,

“Hello…Orbital Control to Valens….”

“Huh…oh…sorry I was just watching the Jedi…” she peered into the empty room, there was nothing there at all

“Nevermind…”

“Right, well I wanted to thank you for that info on the Trials, really helpful,”

“Oh of course, no trouble at all…we’ll both be going soon I think…umm you’ve been doing really well in the gym lately…you might want to do more work on your left leg though, you’ve been favouring your right a bit…”

“Umm, thanks I’ll do that,”  

“Oh I uh got you…well not just you…everyone…this…” he fumbled around his robe and pulled out a small badge  with a cute black and white furry creature, an ewok she though with the words “Hug Me I Need Help” on it.

“That’s soooo cute…what’s it for…”

“Oh it’s a fundraising thing for um youth suicide…it’s like…it’s hard for people to admit they have a problem…so you like wear this instead…its easier for younger kids….probably older ones too though….”  

That hit her hard as she remembered the night before…her sabre to her breast…her eyes started to tear up as she looked at the pleading sad little ewok on the badge…black and white…just like her colouring

“Umm…sorry,” she sniffed, “Thanks…that’s really cool,”

“No trouble at all…umm you better go…”

“Oh yeah don’t want to be late!” she said recovering herself.

Only when she was a few corners away did she wonder how Valens had known she was late for anything….he must’ve noticed the make-up…but she’d wiped it off hadn’t she?
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The usual place was a quiet part of a nearby mall they’d often hung out together when they got a day off.  Deen was waiting for her, dressed like a dream.

“Sofa…wow you look great,” She’d put on her make-up and tossed off her robe to reveal her more casual two piece outfit as soon as she got past the temple plaza.

“Thanks,” she replied pushing a stray lock from her eyes trying to look sultry,

They headed to the food court nearby as he told her about his missions, so far fairly simple stuff, low levels smugglers mostly.  Still it was so exciting to her stuck in the Temple…she’d been on dozens of missions with Soryu…but to be the one driving it from start to finish no one looking over your shoulder…as much as he loved Soryu…she needed that freedom.

“so how have you been,” he finally turned the topic to her

“Oh me…oh I’m fine, getting there I guess,”

He reached across the table to take her hand,

“I’ve missed you…your face, your voice…everything about you….”

With that she was putty in his hands as they seemingly flew back to the Temple to the Temporary room where Knights stayed between missions.  Sooner than she could consciously take in they were kissing, his hands trailing up her back.

“Maker Sofa…” he whispered into her ear and he tugged at her belt, “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this…”

“Me too,” she whispered,

“You’re mine now Sofa…” he said nibbling down he neck,
“All mine…no more fooling around with little padawans, you’ve got a real Knight to satisfy.”
Everything stopped in her head,
“What…” she felt her self seize up
“What…”
“what did you just say,”
“You’re my girl now,”
“No the bit about padawans,”

“What…just that…I don’t want you making out with anyone else, we should be exclusive,”

“Who said I was making out with anybody!” She said pushing him off,

“Come on Sofa, I’m not deaf, I know what you’re like, but I don’t care, come on…” he pulled her back over,

“No…not until you at least apologise, I can’t believe you believe those rumours,”

“Oh for frells sake Sofa…I bet you weren’t this bitchy with Magin, or Aryck”

She pushed him off again,

“OK I never slept with Magin…Aryck is a perve who felt me up”

“Whatever, I don’t want to talk about this,”

“No I want to talk about this, I want to know what you really think about me!” she started to yell,

“Keep your voice down, someone will hear us!”

“Don’t ever tell me what to do!” She stood up, “I’m leaving, I’m sick of this dren…sick of it…”

He leapt in front of her standing between her and the door, his eyes on fire,

“Would you shut up! You’re sick - I’m sick of this, I’ve waited long enough! Waited while you were unconscious, waited while you were in rehab...now I want something to show for it!”

The content of his words shocked her more than the anger with which he delivered them,

“What you think because you waited you’ve somehow earned having sex with me, is that it! Like just hang around long enough and I’ll pay out!  Go get your lightsabre and shove it up your…”

Her head snapped to the side her cheek flushed and stung from the slap,

“I told you to shut up,” he seethed as he towered over her,

She was in shock she didn’t know what to do…she crumpled t her knees staring at the indifferent ruddy brown floor…
Try and fight back…he was twice her size
Or just give in…play along until she could get out.

The door suddenly whooshed open,

“Oh sorry wrong room….” Came a familiar voice…a pause

“Sofa…are you alright…what’s going on…”

“Get lost you weasley little dren licker before, this is none of your business,”

“Not unless Sofa leaves with me,”

“I told you to get lost or I’ll put your face through the wall,”

“Try it - I dare you,”

She looked up just as Deen smashed Valens in the side of the face with a heavy, no doubt force enhanced, fist.  His head snapped around…then slowly turned back to face him only slightly bruised.

Deen hit him again…and again…and again…every time it was the same…even as the blood dripped from Valens nose he stood his ground indifferent to the punishment.

“Are you finished?” Valens asked with cool detachment…any trace of the bumbling odd outcast she had seen over the last few weeks seemingly gone.

She could feel Deens utter confusion in the force…short of taking a lightsabre to him there was no way Valens was going to back down…yet to do that would end his career and land him in prison.  Yet to let Valens go would result in exactly the same outcome.

The sabre flew across the room, but it wasn’t Deen pulling it…it landed in Valens grip, with unnatural strength he crushed it in his bare hand, metal peeling around his fingers, the crystal cracking with a hideous screech.

Deen just stared at him wide eyed.  Valens crouched a little and offered his hand to her…she grabbed it faster than a Hutt would grab a credit chit.  

As she stood Valens dropped the ruins of the sabre to the floor,

“You ever bother her again, that is what I’ll do to you,”

Deen was visibly shaking as the door slid closed.
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She hated it…all of it…

There was no way she could make a formal complaint without getting in trouble herself…She was lucky that Soryu didn’t believe the rumours and after a few training sessions recommended her once more for the trials.  

She wished she could talk to him about it…but she just wasn’t sure how he would take it.  

She flipped the button in her hand, the cute little ewok staring out at her as the winds picked up across the balcony.

She pinned it to her tunic
“Hug Me I Need Help” she whispered along with the poor ewok…

“Uh…are you…” she jumped as the voice startled her,

“Frell, Valens…trying to scare me to death,”

He suddenly looked terribly anxious, “No, sorry, I’ll leave you alone…”

“No wait…” she called,

“Congratulations, I heard you passed the trials!”

“Hmm oh…yeah well…that was…ok…are you…you alright…no one’s been bothering you…”

Oddly no one had, things seemed to have eased off dramatically over the fortnight since Deen left after having to build another sabre, claiming his was ‘lost’, embarrassing for a Jedi…but less than she thought he deserved. It was the rumours, the memory of those rumours that was hurting her still.

“No it’s just…” she looked down at the badge...making her choice she placed it between her fingers and flickered the suns reflection against its glossy surface.

He stood stone still…not seeming to take the hint, she began to worry he thought she was a slut just like everyone else…

“Umm…are you sure…I wouldn’t want to…that is I do want to but…” he struggled with his words,

“I’d never touch you without your permission first,”

He was so sweet!

“ha, fine,” she laughed, “you have my permission to hug me,”

He slowly approached, if she didn’t get up and move toward him it might’ve taken a year for him to reach her…His hug was at best stilted and formal.

“umm…Yoda and I are…going away for a while…” he said as they parted

“But…I was wondering if I could…maybe, with your permission, message you every now and then....”  

“I’d like that,” she nodded,

“We’re not leaving straight away…so…what do you need help with now that I’ve hugged you?” he asked,

As she started talking for the first time ever she felt like she would finally be heard.

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This was really a treat to read.  You're always an excellent writer, detailed, nuanced, and engrossing, but the tone was a departure from what you normally post.  Wonderful!  And who can't relate on at least one level?  Either rumors about you or someone you know can work on even the strongest wills.  I like seeing someone who stands against such, especially in opposition of a majority or what's considered "popular." 

And there's always a bit of wish fulfillment in seeing bad things happen to bad people (although we're often "taught" to have more Olympian views concerning that  ;)).

Still: the humor that you inject: "Six Credit Sofa" (have to love those alliterative names) who "Ryloth-kissed a Selphi"  So appropriate in the SW universe...

But the best part: seeing Valens truly care about Sofa if his efforts are any indication to go by (hopefully he's not motivated by guilt...but that would be ascribing a human set of mores to an Aethan).  Still, THAT is beautiful  :)
I really enjoyed this glimpse into Sofa and Valens past LSG!

I want to add my thanks.  LSG, this was a great sequence.  We knew Sofa and Valens had a relationship.  Seeing the "mean girls" treatment of the Padawan Pack, though...  :-)  I'm not sure I'm quite ready to buy into that lock stock and barrel, but there certainly would have to be some of that going on, since they're all people.  And people, especially kids, can be very cruel to each other.

The bragging about what happened is also something that is apparently very common.  Guys go out with girls and a quick kiss on the cheek becomes a make-out session and more.   Next thing you know people are talking about how easy a girl is who's never done anything more than maybe be a bit unwise about who she flirted with...

Excellent social commentary!  And again, with this face, if it were the "real" Jedi, I wouldn't like them much.  I find myself more and more agreeing with Jarys: I may be the only father in the universe who is not happy his daughter has become a Jedi...  :-)

Thanks guys.


A fair point - my theory was that because the Jedi are completely forbidden from such relationships the mean girls and bragging boys would be even worse than a normal high school setting because there is an stronger element of jealousy and their own repressed feelings being added to their vindictiveness. But yeah might've gone a little far, the Temple is a very artificial place I think and difficult to know just how to write about the inventible social clashes that would occur under the veneer of happy little padawans. 

Oh, I'm not really faulting the way you portrayed it.  :-)  Honestly, Sofa isn't 100% free of guilt either.  She DID flirt, and use make-up, and she WAS seeking a relationship.  Then toss in that we're taking about homone-raging teens in a situation where they're told NO without any good reason or eventual outlet of any kind, and THEN she makes the additional mistake of trying to buy the relationship she's after - companionship - with what she perceives is wanted - sex - and takes the first steps down that road by letting things get way to physical...  Yeah.  Snowball effect.

Its not far from there to having a reputation.  Saw it happen in my own high school.  I think my own experience is just while there would be plenty of whispers there would also be defenders.  Other than a lone voice.  Which would explain why Soryu didn't buy into the rumors.

But its also not surprising that Sofa wouldn't necessarily know about the defenders.  Unlike the detractors, the defenders often operate out of the public eye...

So well written.  :-)  I just like to cling to the idea that, overall, the Jedi would be better than that.  Or at least have more ... proactive supervision.  After all, they're Jedi!  They can READ THESE KIDS MINDS after all!  LOL

That's cool, I guess I have a less generous view of young Jedi, I imagine any defenders would fear association with her as it would ruin their own chances of getting to the trial - especially with Kimar as Grand Master. Yeah Sofa is her own worst enemy in a way...but her desires are completely natural so in that sense she has a solid defence...she's like the living embodiment of inherent problems with the Jedi's rule against attachment...at least she has Valens in her corner to defend her...

Speaking of I might try and do the events from Valens POV, might be interesting.

Interlude: Looking into the Abyss

I paused at the crest and turned to look at the majesty around me.  I was far above the tree line here, and the mountains were white crowned peeks in the crystaline air.  Air which was thin: my lungs burned.  I'd made the climb to this place at a man-killing pace.  I'd done it on purpose, using the force to augment my legs while humming motifs to repair the damage and sooth my lungs.  Even then it had taken hours to make this climb.  The Shrine was far below me, now.  Far from this place.

This darkness...

I sat for moment, meditating.  Still using the force to augment myself as my body recovered from the lack of oxygen.  I wasn't quite at the "death" line.  There was enough oxygen in the air here to keep a person alive.  Barely.  Much higher, though, and I would have needed to augment despite my singing.  No one, no matter how strong, could sustain augmentation for hours and hours on end...  At least, I didn't think they could...  My research into the Ancient One had led me to a very interesting find, however.  Legend had become more - and less.  I had found records of the reality of what had happened on Vyth, as recorded by the sole surviving droid.  It had been ... disturbing. And incomplete.  Parts of the data record had been corrupted by age.  Other historical records concerning the crystal appeared to have been deleted or perhaps altered. The worst were records concerning Kage Dorian and his conflict with The Nameless One.  That record was virtually non-existent, and what was there left to many questions about what really happened, to may unknowns.   I needed answers.  But the one I needed to ask...

Well, it lived here.

I sighed, looking down the mountain, imagining I could actually see the shrine far below.  It seemed every place where the force concentrated there was a dark place, a place where the energy of the force and the melodies and harmonies of the song were twisted and dark and evil.  Balance, many called it.  Good and Evil.  Light and Dark.  But my own study of the Maker and the Universe didn't support this.  Good came from the Maker.  Light came from sources of light.  Evil was ... absence of good.  Darkness was absence of light.  You could flood a room with light, banish every shadow with enough diffusion.  But you couldn't 'fill' a room with darkness - except by removing the light.  Good was the same way.  Good could exist without Evil, but Evil could only exist in the absence of  - and knowledge of - good.  Without Good there was no evil.  But without evil, good still remained. 

Light and shadow.   And this place ... was a deep shadow.

enough philosophy, Karm!  You're just stalling now.  Do what you have to do...

I stood and turned, looking into the cave behind me.  I had been here before, with Master Chillum.  It had been a chilling - and enlightening - experience then.  Memory came, unbidden...

"What's in there?"

A chuckle.  "Only what you carry with you, young one."

"So ... I should l take my weapons Master?  Will I need them?"

"That, my boy, is up to you."

I took the saber off my belt and looked at it, lying in my hand.  I had trained with this new blade extensively since returning the M'Tzigon.  It was strong and true, but it was not the Ancient One.  There was a connection to the ancient crystal that was surpassed what I could achieve with these, even with the new motifs I'd learned.  I looked into the cave again, looked down... 

I dropped the hilt into my pack along with the bulk of my gear.  Today I would not need it.  I looked out over the mountains one more time, breathed a silent prayer for wisdom, guidance and protection, and then turned and walked into the cave.

I didn't have to walk very far.  "So, you finally came.  I wondered how long it would take."

I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.  I was only a few meters in from the mouth, in what was known as "the antechamber".  There were more passages and chambers beyond, but those who came here rarely had to penetrate further than this.  And there she was...  "Really?  Cover yourself, shade, or I will leave."

The ghost giggled.  "But isn't this more ... interesting?"  She stood and stretched, attempting to draw my gaze - and my lust.  Just like the last time...  I simply turned away from her and started to walk back the way I had come.  "Ok, ok...  You win.  Please stay.  Its so ... lonely ... up here, all alone..."

I turned, and saw she was now wearing proper robes.  Jedi robes.  Appropriate, considering her past.  "Thank you."

The Shade smiled a brilliant smile and sat, patting the stone bench next to her.  "For you, my dear Ka'A'Mack, anything."

I stalked back to the center of the room, arms crossed across my chest.  "Liar."

She laughed, a bright, brilliant sound that somehow rang false and empty of mirth despite the show.  "Oh, yes.  I forget.  You know me to well..."  She morphed again, Jedi robes changing to black, hair growing longer and graying, eyes shifting from brilliant blue to blazing yellow.  "Better?"

I stood my ground.  "Still a lie.  I will not be lied to."

The shade sighed.  "Oh, very well..."  her form rippled once more.  Her figure lost its "drop dead" curves and became plain.  Her hair, now brown, gathered into a simple pony tail and hung mid-back.  Her eyes were no longer sith yellow, just very ordinary hazel-brown.  Her face carried lines and wrinkles, the face of a woman past her prime but still hale and healthy.  "Better?  You know how much I hate this face."

Recognizing her now, I uncrossed my arms and sat down across from  her.  "It is not your face that you hate.  Its the truth."

She sighed.  "You are right, of course.  The truth..."  Utter despair crossed her face as she looked at me.  "The truth is all I have here.  That bastard Dorian saw to that!  It wasn't enough to kill me.  No.  He had to lock me up here, cut off from the force, from the song, from everything, with only the truth to keep me company...  Well, Truth and the odd padawan.  And very very occasionally a Master of Song."  She cocked her head to the side, her gaze suddenly piercing.  "So, Master Karmack, what can I do for you today?"

I leaned back, studying the shade.  The holocron buried in the cave was no normal artifact.  It was just what she said it was - a prison.  And a crucible for truth.  It was nigh unto a torture chamber for the shade, as it required it ultimately to face and speak the truth.  Ironically it also had an "escape clause" - a simple way out.  Simple - if only the shade would accept the truth... 

The upshot, though, was that while the shade would try to deceive and dissemble, it was required to be truthful ... when pressed.  "Tell me ... how did Master Dorian defeat you?"

The look of pure rage that passed over her had me mentally alert and defensive.  I felt my entire posture tighten and straighten in a visceral fight-or-flight response that I wasn't quick enough to quell.  But then the moment passed and she smiled, the pleasant demeanor masking the rage still smoking in her eyes.  "Oh, pray tell Master Karmack, why do you wish to know?"  She read my own hesitation and her smile broadened.  "Come now!  Truth for truth."

"Very well.  A ... darkness had shadowed my dreams.  An ancient enemy, though I do not know which one.  I do know it is tied somehow to the Ancient One and those of it's past.  You fought the Kage.  He defeated you wielding the Ancient One.  I wish to know how."

The shade's eyes narrowed.  "Ask Dorian.  He will tell the tale."  Her smile turned shrewd.  "Or maybe...   You can't?  You've lost the Ancient One?"

"Temporarily." I admitted and her cackling laughter echoed in the chamber.  I stomped on the spurt of anger that rose within me.  "I know where it is, and I will recover it.  But for now, the Kage is ... out of reach."

The shade stopped laughing and wiped a tear from her eye.  "Oh.  That is rich.  The greatest singer in centuries, stronger even than Odjina or Klu Xander himself, and you lost it?   Oh, you must tell me the tale!"

"I don't have time..."

"Make time."  her face was suddenly stone.  "I've nowhere to go.  This ... place ... may require truth but it does NOT require dissemination.  I will tell you if you will share the story."

I sighed.  This was all true.  And so I began, telling her of the battle on and over Geonosis, culminating in Ken's death and rebirth, and what we'd determined must have happened afterward.  For her part the shade hung on every word, her eyes bright.  When I was done she looked suddenly wistful.  "This Mendax...  I would love to meet her one day."  She leveled her gaze back on me and her eyes sharpened.  "And you!  How ... un-Jedi like.  The Council will be shocked!"

I grinned.  "Truth, if there were a council.  But the Mak'Tor have been separated from the Jedi and the Temple for centuries now, and the Council..."  no choice, I had to finish, it was the nature of the place.  "The Council, the Jedi, are gone.  Wiped out by Palpatine.  Only the scattered Grays remain."

The shade's face actually fell.  "The Jedi are gone... I knew this.  Yet I forgot."  She sighed.  "I've been locked up for two and a half millenia.  You lose track of the 'when' in a situation like this."  She sat back, her eyes level.  "Thank you for telling me the truth.   Ah, Dorian.  Now THERE was a Master!"  She leaned back, remembering.  "A worthy opponent, that one.  He cracked the code, learned Xander's secret.  When he faced me he had a new weapon: The StarFire."

"Star fire?  He captured ... plasma from a star?" 

She laughed again.  "No, silly!  So literal...  No, Master Karmack.  Your precious Dorian created a new Crystal.  It was Adegan, I think, rather than Kyber, and it blazed the deepest blue I've ever seen.  It allowed Dorian to focus his singing and amplify it by giving him a secondary conduit for the Song.  He could direct its energy without serving as the conduit, as he was forced to do with the Ancient One."  Her face assumed the angry, bitter look again.  "He cheated.  And I didn't realize what he was doing in time, and he defeated me and undid all my glorious work at the Spire.  And instead of  a clean death he locked me away in here..."  Despair returned now.  "Please, Master Karmack. Show an old shadow mercy.  Free me from this hell!"

I sighed, lowered my head.  "I cannot.  You know this to be true." I looked up, met her pleading eyes.  "There is only one way for this to end.  You know what it is."

Defiance filled her features.  "NO!  You lie!  There is another way.  There MUST be!"

I stood and turned to go.  "There is not.  It is the truth.  This play allows no lie."  I stopped at the touch of a hand on my shoulder. 

"Please..." she whispered.  "...at least ... tell me my name?  I haven't heard it spoken in so long.  I know that you've discovered it.  Please ..."

"Accept the truth ... Morrigan.  Accept it and this will end." 

Her hand withdrew and I left, walking back into the light, leaving the shadow weeping behind me. 

Oh I LIKE this Karm!  More backstory of the Mak'Tor and the ancient Kage!  And this cave...trap.  And just who is Morrigan?  I kind of like the parallels to the Oracle of Delphi.  And the...StarFire?  Another mystery to be solved...

The title is perfect!  Of course, the latter part is also and evidently true, in this case, quite literally for Karm...

I hope that we see more of this cave and Morrigan (what a great development!)  :)

Thanks!  The holocron/prison containing Morrigan was originally in a cave on the Spire on Coruscant.  It was one of the relics the Mak'Tor were able to recover when they left.  They took it because the encounter requires a padawan to truthfully face temptation and evil. 

Karmack's return trip to the cave would be highly unusual.  And I have to admit I was inspired by the dark cave on Dahgobah and LSG's trail holocron encounter from his series.  *hat tip to LSG*

As for more about Morrigan... Not sure.  Though I also had the intent of fleshing out the encounter that Dorian had with her on Coruscant...  In case that ever comes up again.  :-)

And you know ... StarFire...

A Dark and Charismatic character...The bad guys are always the best that's why i have no good ones in my stories (Well Sofa is mostly clean)! I can see how this would make a good trial your young Mak'Tor...although there is a cruelty o keeping her locked up like that...But  Karmack should be careful - he may think there is only one way she can get out...but I Guarantee there are others out there who would be very very interested in talking to this Morrigan and would be more than happy to try alternate methods of releasing her that even the Mak'Tor might never have imagined
....And Hell Hath no Fury....

;-)

The following is a pic of Kazic's two lightsabers:

(https://thumb.ibb.co/nt1nd7/IMG_20180214_083059.jpg) (https://ibb.co/nt1nd7)
*************************************************************************************
Interlude-The Anzat’s New Apprentice

Kazic briefly stepped out of the way as a column of TX-130 Saber-tanks cleared the filthy streets of detritus, trash, and persons, his dark gray robes held tightly against him.  Unperturbed, he corrected his pace to allow for the crowding, making sure that he did not accidentally step on anyone.  ...Poor souls… He thought, as he saw several altercations break out over “personal space” and lost items, real or imagined.  As one person next to him—an Iktotchi—was stabbed several times, Kazic tried to help him but he was soon lost under a mob of angry attackers.  Knowing that he could do nothing now, he sighed resignedly and kept moving, always careful of where his boots fell.  Such was the state of affairs at Dalos IV during the first weeks of what was already being called "the Clone Wars."

As he scanned the crowded city of Kavila, the tall interspersed pyramidal buildings held in the oppressive heat of the surrounding jungle making the capital even more miserable, the Gray master thought …Could I have misread the daen nosi or imagined them…?  Witnessing again another two murders in as many minutes, Kazic began to doubt his own faculties.

True, he was old—not “getting,” he was—but he was reasonably sure that he still had his wits about him, moreso than most.  Or so he had thought before the daen nosi had brought him to this Maker-forsaken penal colony of a planet.  Again, he became introspective as he found a relatively empty corner of the street by a waste-compaction facility.

He’d just lost Meerah, his 8th wife, another human.  It had been a good marriage; not as lovingly intimate as his marriage to Saani, his third or as…physical as his fifth wife, J’Axiz’a had been, but…comfortable.  …Strange…he realized, ...I…did love Meerah… Again, Kazic’s heart felt…not sadness necessarily, but certainly the pain of loss.  Meerah had been a good companion in what he had assumed were his twilight years.  Imagine his surprise when he awoke and found her next to him in their shared bed, having died peaceably in her sleep.  At least she would not have to endure the pain of loss…

Kazic Ovarug had lived almost a thousand years, his Anzat ancestry responsible for his long life.  …And a cursed one much of the time… his gray lips scowled beneath his long white moustaches, his closely cut beard also having lost all of the jet-black color from his youth.  Cursed…to have to endure this life alone.  Oh, he’d lived a full and eventful life—enough for ten lifetimes—but in the end he was yet again…alone.  As he’d always feared.

Why?  Why would the Maker punish him?  He knew that he was far from perfect and certainly had more than several lifetimes of blood on his hands but none of it innocent.  Most importantly, he had never given into the temptation of his race’s most prolific vice: the soup.  He’d been tempted—yea, Maker how he’d been tempted—but never once had he succumbed…

And now…this.  Anzati were one and all Force sensitives, especially attuned to the mental aspects of the Force, and Kazic even more than most.  He could see the daen nosi, the “lines of fate” as others would describe them.  They’d been his constant companion—and curse—for all his life always telling him of change, always showing him events of importance and most usually dire.  But one and all, he knew that should he listen and just ignore them, it would be most calamitous.  Still…could he have…misread them?  Admittedly his mental acuity was not what it once was…

He felt a soft touch upon his mind, a sign of warning as three local youths stopped before him as he sat upon a retaining wall separating the walkway from the waste-management vacuoles.  His red eyes alert, his face remained impassive as his flared nostrils helped him determine which was the most healthy and therefore the one most likely to cause the most injury.  For the youth, that was; Kazic had no illusions that he was in bodily danger.  Not from these three.

All disparate species, they were alike in that they were filthy and borderline feral.  Without having to see them, Kazic knew that two of them held old fashioned metallic blades while the third carried a passable vibroblade.  Kazic was not particularly tall, not anymore, but he was still taller than these poor creatures.  But hunger can be a powerful motivator and even a gorog could be brought low by lesser animals, or so he’d heard.  Still…

“Sires.  Would you like to join me at Voyager’s Rest for a meal?” Kazic asked remembering the single halfway decent eatery located in the city proper.  At least the food was edible without the aid of condiments there…

“Gives…gives ‘s yer m’ney, ol’ man!” One of them said in incredibly bad Basic as he(?) brandished the vibroblade, his two confederates threatening likewise.  Kazic sighed.  He knew that he would not need either of his two lightsabers but he was remiss in injuring these poor creatures.  His gray face expressionless, he reached into one of the many pockets of his robe and withdrew his crypto-node, keying it open.  Reaching in, he withdrew all of the chits that he’d traded for credits.

Holding out his hand, he stated nonchalantly, “Here is all the hard currency that I possess.  Please, allow me to treat you all to supper.”  As the last word left his mouth, a gust of wind caught his dark gray robes, exposing the shining silver and black metal of his lightsabers.  As calmly as he could, Kazic wrapped his sleeves around his robes, drawing them closed.

But the damage had been done.

With dreams of avarice in his eyes, the lead youth licked his lips, his cracked yellowing teeth juxtaposed against the purple tongue that flicked out of his mouth.  “…An’ th’ shinies!  Gives ‘s th’ shinies!”  The vibroknife didn’t once waver despite the youth’s skinny arm.

Knowing that he could no longer reason with them, Kazic again sighed.  …I hope that I don’t hurt them too badly… He thought as he stood.  “I am truly sorry but I will not.  They are sacrosanct to me.”  Trying to look unthreatening, Kazic adopted a casual posture.

As the proverbial wheels of the youth’s mind slowly turned, he finally realized that his threat to Kazic had yielded him nothing but a denial.  Blinking his jaundiced eyes, the youth looked to either side of him, nodding to his two confederates.  “Kills h’m!”  And with that, the three lunged with their blades.

Even as old as he was, Kazic knew that they were no match for him.  With economy of movement, he responded with quick, debilitating strikes, intended to shock and not maim.  Unfortunately, one of the knives sliced through his robes, cutting a noticeable hole.  But the blades never touched the Anzat.  A determined set upon his lips, Kazic did a quick succession of jabs, knocking each of the youths out, the last hitting his head on the formex curb with a loud crack.

Inhaling, Kazic kneeled down and opened himself to the Force.  Carefully placing his index and middle finger upon the youth’s forehead, he did a Delve looking to see if there was any danger of concussion or worse.  After a minute, he was satisfied that aside from a headache the youth would be fine.  Scanning around, he saw that everyone had ignored this fight the same as all others.  But before he stood, he made certain to put the chits that he’d given to the youths in their inner pockets.  He knew that it wasn’t much, but it was more than anyone else would give them on Dalos IV.

As his healing ability in the Force was non-existent, Kazic lightly slapped one of the youths awake.  “Here.  Here now.  Look after your two friends.  That’s a good lad.”  Kazic stepped back once he saw that the youth was cognizant enough to stall anyone trying to rob them.  A small smile playing behind his beard and mustaches, Kazic nodded to the youths and turned to leave, drawing his robes closed once again.

Where he found that one of his lightsabers was missing.

Looking down, he saw that it was the dark-metallic saber that had been taken.  …Dammit, Anson’s…he thought to himself.  It must have happened while he was busy checking on the youth…but that meant that the culprit had fast hands.  And audacity.  Focusing, Kazic went through a Retrieval technique, scrutinizing his memory.  …There… He saw from his memory out of the corner of his eye a small, emaciated boy of about 8 or 9 with dark blond hair hurriedly reach and withdraw, the stolen saber clutched to his narrow chest as he adopted a casual appearance while walking away.

Quickly scanning the crowd, Kazic thought he saw a mop of dirty dark blond hair duck down one of the many littered alleyways.  Determinedly, he followed.  Discreetly looking around, he turned the corner into the dark, reeking alley.

And promptly into a deadend.  Nonplussed for a moment, Kazic then gave a small smile.  With the Force flowing through him, he could easily detect several life-signs within the alley, most belonging to vermin.  But one…

“Please, you have nothing to fear.  Come out.  I only wish to have returned to me my property.  If you like, I shall pay you handsomely for it.”  Kazic’s eyes locked onto the very spot he sensed the life-sign.  After a moment, the boy from his memory appeared as if by magic.  Indeed, he was thin, his skin a palor of gray not unlike Kazic’s.  But unlike the Anzat’s, the boy’s pigmentation was from lack of nutrition and not genetics.  But that was not what Kazic noticed most about him; it was his eyes.

The boy had piercing hazel eyes, red around the pupil surrounded by brown and rimmed with green.  And although he was afraid, he controlled it well.  “H’w much?”  The boy’s voice squeaked.  

It took Kazic a moment to understand.  “…Oh, you mean how much will I pay you for it?  How much do you want?  A fiver?  A tenner?”  Kazic’s arms were held outward, palms up so as not to look threatening.  The boy’s eyes squinted, looking the Anzat up and down.  And then Kazic felt it.

The boy was attempting to Delve him with the Force!

“That’s an interesting ability for an eight-year old boy.” Was all Kazic could think to say, so shocked was the Gray master.

For the first time, the boy looked angry.  “I’m almost thirteen!”  His fist pounded his narrow chest for emphasis. …Of course, malnutrition…he thought.

Amazed, Kazic became introspective once again.  …Is…is this what the daen nosi wanted for me to see…?  Mentally nodding his head, Kazic thought that it must be so…

“Look out!”  The boy’s high-pitched scream sobered Kazic, bringing him out of his ruminations.  With instinct honed by experience he moved, seeing the one youth that he’d just helped trying to stab him in the back.  Pivoting his body, Kazic evaded the attack and quickly struck the youth with a jab to his throat.  At the very last instant, Kazic pulled his punch so as not to kill but it dropped his would-be attacker to the ground.  The youth was no longer a threat but Kazic still went over to him.  Again, Delving with the Force, the Anzat spoke one word as a command: “Sleep.”  Instantly, the attacker fell into a deep slumber.

Turning his head, Kazic looked at the boy.  “Why did you warn me?”  His red eyes stared into the boy’s strange hazel ones.  “You could have escaped.”

Again, showing none of the fear that he felt, the boy merely said, “You didn’t d'serve that.  ‘Sides, you owe me money for th’ shiny.”  He shook Anson’s lightsaber as if to illustrate.

“Ah, yes.”  Kazic smiled.  “About that: I seem to be…short on funds.  But I can do you one better.  How would you like to leave this place?  Live somewhere much better?”  Kazic went down to one knee, careless of the water that soaked his robes.  More importantly, he opened his mind to the boy.

And either with instinct, practice, or luck the boy Delved into Kazic’s mind seeing the sincerity of his offer.  After a moment the boy nodded his head, handing Kazic back Anson’s saber.

Attaching the dark metallic hilt to his belt, Kazic stood searching through his food capsules to share with the boy.  As he greedily ate the proffered food, his gaze never once left the venerable Gray master’s face.  For his part, Kazic smiled, thanking the Maker for this turn of events.

And as Kazic lead the boy through the crowd back to his ship, he looked into strange hazel eyes, eyes that felt somehow…comfortable for him to see.  And he asked, “Boy, what is your name?”

Between chewing and swallowing the boy intoned a single word while they walked.

“Zearic.”

Ah...   A peek into Zearic's beginnings.  Well done and very well written.  Thank you for sharing that, Dutchman.

Great little interlude, really captures a spirit of a life that has perhaps been a little too long...Kazic seems desperate to find some purpose following the daen nosi - again excellent level of research and detail into your characters race and great description of the cut throat situation of Dosa, random murders, emaciated children scavenging - its very sad in a way...but in tat sense there is an uplift at the end where the old dejected warrior meets someone who needs his help.

What can I say that hasn't already been said? This was a great interlude TD. I loved the dynamic of just a single old man wading through the crowds on a world with virtually nothing good. And yes, your research really shows when you bring in a new character. Well done, it was a pleasure to read.

This was from the first draft and is from Kimar's POV, previously I had Jarys on Cosurscant longer before meeting Valens, but changed it to be more dramatic - i.e. as soon as he arrives he gets hit by the sentinels and reunited, anyway thought this might be of interest to you to see some of what gets cut and a little snippet of how Kimar and Jarys might've met

He was heading out of the main entrance, datapads under his arms as he came across the concierge at the front of the temple talking with a dark haired military looking man.

“I don’t know her name,” the dark hair said, “but she’s about this high with red hair, fair face,”

“I’m sorry sir,” the bothan concierge said, “We can’t just give out details of individual Jedi, unless you have an appointment, but there is nothing on the list,”

He seemed annoyed, “No appointment, I just want to talk to her…look how much,”

“pardon,” the bothan looked startled,

“how many credits to tell me what I want to know, or at least have a peek at your personnel files or whatever you use,”

“Sir we do not take bribes I think….”

Kimar was angry now, he charged forward and stepped between them poking a finger into the man’s chest,

“Who do you think you are to come in here and try and buy us off, what did you see a pretty Jedi in a bar, did she wink at you?” he laughed in the brutes face,

“Did she ask you some question on a mission, flirt to get some information out of you and now you think she loves you!”  he could sense a certain distant affection…almost a yearning for the person he was seeking…a feeling that was rapidly turning to anger in the brute. 

“I warn you Jedi…” he said calmly and coldly, staring with vicious intent at Kimars eyes from some reason.

He laughed at that, “What! You warn me, are you a Sith lord,” he pressed even closer to the man who held his stare,

“I doubt cantina trash like you even know what a Sith is apart from a Sith’s Head cocktail!”  he laughed right in his face, the arrogance of this fool to come to the temple and demand to see a Jedi!  What a laser brain.

He just kept staring,

“Walk out of here you brute before you have to be carried out,” he used the force to flick a credit chit at him, “Here have a drink on me, a Sith’s Head!”

Kimar pushed past him, deliberately knocking into him as a group of Jedi nearby looked over at them,

After a few steps the man called out,

“I tried Jedi, remember that,” his presence in the force was suddenly cold, predatory…just like a violent mercenary high on death sticks thinking he was some kind of hero.

“Yes,” Kimar replied in a jovial mood to be putting this ruffian in his place, “You tried to get into the temple and utterly failed, go tell that to your chums!”  he headed to his next meeting with a skip in his step.
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Kimar, Kimar, Kimar.  That was NOT very Jedi like.  Not. At. All.  Taunting, name calling, bullying...  these are tools of simpletons, and vermin.  Luminous being are we, give example we must.  Fail you did, in front of other Jedi.

He truly would be just another bully with a title, a skeezy politician who thinks he's above it all, with the one true vision.  Nice peek behind the scenes.

Oh that is rich!  I doubt Kimar would appreciate the irony of the scene but it makes me think how often coincidences occur that radically shape future events.  "For want of a nail...the kingdom was lost."

I can see (and agree) why you decided to cut it though (for the sake of narrative flow).  That said, I am glad that you included it here!

Certainly allows us to glimpse the hubris that Kimar exhibits  ;)

Thanks for sharing the deleted scene, LSG!  But I have to agree with your edit.  Not just for flow, but also I think, as much as I don't like Kimar, he's not QUITE that low.   As Illyiss pointed out, that kind of outburst would have been seen by other Jedi and regarded as petty and low and utterly un-Jedi like.  Kimar strives to maintain the outer trappings of power and status, whatever he is inside.  While he might have intervened and even used sarcasm he wouldn't have been so open and blatant about it. 

No.  He's more like a guy who will gather his knights, hurl them into battle, and then run away when they're all killed by the opponent who only wanted to go 1 on 1 with him to settle a matter of honor...  ;-)

To Illyiss: Lapsed into Yoda-speak you did.  What you did there I saw....  ;-)

It felt... right.  Yoda is the DE FACTO champion of chastisement, especially for not thinking before acting, and extra especially of Jedi.

I think that the scene above, COULD fit into the narrative, even as is, as a mental musing of Kimar, triggered by a slight Force precognition, that he ignored as daydreaming....

Interlude: Perpetual Motion

The song swirled around us, wove into our fugue and bound us together.  We were entwined...

I open my eyes and the familiar view of the saber sparring salle snaps into focus.  Normally the observation areas are sparsely populated with instructors and students there to observe or simply preparing to enter or exit the expansive floor.  But today...

Today was different.

The expansive floor was empty save Arnor and I, standing back-to-back in the center of the room.  We were wearing our work-out Gi with sparring armor over it, but no helmets or hand-gear.  The equipment most closely approximated our normal combat armor load-outs.  Arrayed around us were our "enemies" - dozens of remotes set for random activation.  And beyond...

Beyond them was the real test...

My eyes flick involuntarily to the observation area.  Master Kroven and Master Zane are both there, side-by-side, observing.  They are surrounded by a packed house of Knights, Taedowans and Padawans.  Only the Masters know what's supposed to happen.  The rest, though, can sense that something unusual is about to go down and want to see it.

Enjoy the show, folks.  I hope its not a flop...

Arnor and I sense the first remotes coming online and our blades ignite in perfect unison.  Her Cyan fire merges with my gold as we begin the complex Soresu pattern, dancing around each other in perfectly choreographed movement.  I have both blades active, adding to the shield and the complexity of the pattern.  Outside our cocoon of safety the room is alive with red fury as no less than 24 blaster remotes come online and begin firing rapidly.  Energy buzzes and even in low-power mode there is danger.  Like bee stings, the remote's hits are generally just a painful nuisance, but dozens hitting in quick succession could kill.

May of the spectators flinch away as deflected energy sleets off the force screen protecting them.  There is a low buzz of whispers among them, but they remain quiet, afraid to speak loudly lest they interrupt our concentration.

I can hear them, but it doesn't matter.  The song is in full voice and our battle song rises with it...

Master Zane manipulates the settings on the drones and the pattern of fire begins to shift randomly, ebbing and flowing, concentrating here and ebbing there.  It forces us to react dynamically, but the song is rolling and these are only slight tempo variations and dynamics changes.  Arnor and I continue our dance, relaxed, effortless...

Phase one complete.  Time to move to phase two...

Without changing anything else, I split off part of my concentration.  I am now relying largely on Arnor's input to continue our movements and defense from the drones while I reach out to the outer ring, where two hundred bolts are sitting in a ring around us, next to an equal number of washers and nuts.  I lift them from the floor and begin to sort them.  It takes a little time, but eventually I have them sorted by size and with the force I put on the washers and fasten the nuts.  This takes intense concentration and for the first time the pattern falters slightly.  I sense the miss as it happens and manage to twist my body out of the way of the stinger bolt in time to avoid being hit, but the flicker causes me to lose several of the bolts in the process.  As agreed I do not pick them back up, leaving them lie on the mats.  I step back into pattern and turn more of my attention back to the bolts, finishing the task.  My chest is burning now, my arms and legs on fire, my Gi soaked through under my pads as the last nut is tightened.  For a finale I bring the combined units into a spinning circle around us and begin picking off the remotes with them.  Within seconds the last remote falls, cored by one of the bolts.

I slow the rest and set them down in a pile at the edge of the mat.  Arnor and I turn, face each other and flourish a salute - again in perfect unison - and deactivate our sabers.  I grin at her, noting the sweat streaking her face and soaking her Gi under her armor.  Her grin matches mine.  "Nice..."

The eruption of cheers and rolling applause from the gallery catches us by surprise.  I blink and we turn and wave weakly.  I suddenly feel very drained.

As the crowd begins to disperse, Masters Kroven and Zane step out and approach us.  Master Zane schools her face into sternness but her eyes twinkle with the mirth we can all feel in the force.  "Master Karmack.  That slip in your form was sloppy."

I just grinned at the Mak'Tor blade-master.  "I'll work on that, ma'am."  I looked over at Arnor.  "It worked.  Incredible..."

Master Kroven held out one of the sets that I had dropped.  "That slip cost you about a dozen of these, but you maintained control over most of them.  Now if you'd actually taken a hit..."  She wrinkled her nose in thought.  "That might have been a catastrophe.  However, you avoided the hit despite the break in form and got back into sync very quickly."  She shifted her gaze to Arnor.  "And you were helping him with the sort and helped him hold the ring when he slipped.  So you were both able to load-share both tasks in the meld."  She tipped her head in a bow.  "I am impressed, Master Karmack.   I would say you are ready."

I took the bolt she held out to me, one of the ones I had not used as a missile.  "Thank you."  I looked up at the clock and gulped.  "Whoa.  We were in the meld for twenty minutes?  No wonder I'm beat."

Master Zane nodded.  "Yes.  The endurance was most impressive.  Your crystals no doubt helped.  You must teach us all how to employ this ... channeling effect."

I nodded.  Weary and sore, I felt my spirit sing within me.  "Oh, I will."  I felt my face fall as the dark cloud of worry returned with the shade of my growing nightmares.  "I will indeed."

"I fear we may all need them soon..."

Interesting battle meld Karm.  I'm a sucker for training montages and you don't disappoint!  Seeing the Mak'Tor leaders come together for the benefit for the order is a welcome departure from the political quagmire that most governing entities devolve into.

Good news: Karm and Arnor look like they've recovered from their injuries at Geonosis  :)

I'd like to see where this next leads  :D

Getting right down to the nuts and bolts I see....but you know 'good against remotes is one thing....'

LOL  Exactly!   Somehow I don't think it will be a magic bullet.  Still, every little bit helps...  ;-)

Levels and layers of interest and import here, as our recovering heroes put on an impressive demonstration and test of layers of mastery, and discovery.  The display of endurance and a strong battle meld, not unknown, is a wonderful platform of demonstration in these, and the cooperation is impressive.  As well the channeling through the crystals, something that seems to have been hinted at in times long, long passed in the history of the Jedi, and their successors, shown to give great benefit here as bonded pair push the limits of how long, and how much, the Force can be pulled into combat.  As well, the Mak'Tor are starting in on expanding, or it would seem, the levels of combat, something we see done much more effectively by the Aethans...

Stacked Deck

*** EYES ONLY CAPT B'Lain'Throwd ***
*** MOST SECRET **** MOST SECRET ***
*** MOVEMENT ORDERS - JOKER SQDR ***

Blain groaned slightly as he read the headers on the electronic message from HQ blinking in his queue.  Great, more paperwork...  He affixed his electronic seal to the document he'd just completed - a fascinating breakdown of the Joker's fuel expenditures and ammunition allocations over the last three months - and opened the new message. 

<<< Captain Throwd, you are hearby notified of a change of station.  Your command has been selected for service aboard the MSS Hornet, which is prepping now for launch.  As such the Jokers will be redesignated VF-2.  In addition, you will assume the duties of Commander Air Group of the Hornet, with responsibility over all her auxilliaries and small-craft as well as your fighter squadron.  All Joker assets will be transferred from your current quarters on Cutlass Station to the Hornet's launch bays, this evolution to occur within the next 14 days.  Schematics for the Hornet's bays and facilities as well as contact information for the Captain and XO of the Hornet are attached. 

In light of your new duties as CAG you are given the brevet promotion to Major effecive immediately, this rank to become permanent upon validation by the M'Tzigon Defense Advisory Promotion board.  Congratulations, Major!  In addition, you will be expected to be present during the ship's commissioning at Dorian Station Dock One, 11:00 station time, VII-III-IV, Year 1248.

Good luck and Good Hunting, Commander.  As always, contact HQ with any questions or concerns.  The Quartermaster and S4 are prepped and expecting your call for movement assets to get your team moved to the ship. 

Master-of-Arms Elax Cliff
Commander Naval Forces Ro'Lax'Klu, Meanowan Knight of the Mak'Tor order.
M'Tzigon Republic Men-At-Arms HQ >>>

Blain let out a low whistle and re-read the message.  So ... they were getting the Hornet!  There had been more than a little disappointment when their main rival, the Black Aces, had been designated VF-1 and assigned to the Enterprise, the first of a proposed three M'Tzigon carriers being launched.  They'd all felt the Jokers had made a better overall case for deployment into deep patrol, capping it with their recent recovery of "Shadow" from a busted mission in the Mid-Rim.  He'd been told the selection had simply been an expedient as the Jokers were deployed at the time of the Enterprise commissioning.  None of them had really believed that answer at the time, but now...

Blain keyed his intercom.  "Jace, Jan, I need to see you ASAP." He sat back and waited, thinking, while his flight leaders made their way to his small office.

"What's up skip?" Jace'n'Cam was small and wirey with dirty blonde hair and sharp hazel eyes.  He held the rank of "Flight-Officer Lieutenant" or just "Lieutenant" and served as the Squadron's first officer.  He had a sharp, sarcastic wit and quick mind, and never forgot a face or name. 

Blain waved him toward the coffee pot in the corner. "Grab some coffee.  We need to..." 

"Sir, reporting as ordered." Jan'a'Naith was Joker 9, his second officer and the leader of the Joker's third flight of four.  She was shorter than Jace, in fact shorter than any of the pilots, and unlike the rest of the Jokers she was also a Knight of the Mak'Tor order, of the rank of Koawan Gray.  Her rank in the Mak'Tor, however, had been disregarded by her own request.  She was working her way up to her own Squadron command "the old-fashioned way" and while she was still learning about being a leader everyone readily acknowledged that she was an excellent pilot.  Or, as Jace insisted on putting it, a "hot stick".

Blain was pretty sure it was going to get him killed one fine day...

The formality of her greeting was also indicative of the diminutive knight, but it had gone from a form of emotional armor when she'd arrived in the squadron to more of an inside joke, which explained the twinkle in her blue eyes.  "At ease, Koawan!  Grab a cup and sit."

Blain sipped his own coffee while his subordinates filled their mugs.  Jace took his black, and he gave Jan a bit of good-natured ribbing when she added copious amounts of half-and-half.  Her reply that she used the same coffee-to-cream ratio as Master Karmack only made her peers chuckle.  Rumor was the young Knight had a touch of hero-worship regarding the prominent Mak'Tor Knight.

Nor is she alone in that... Blain reflected, grinning.  And she could do far worse for a role model!

"OK, lets get started." Blain said.  He turned his screen, revealing the orders.  "We have orders for a new duty station.  They're giving us the Hornet."

Jace performed a fist-pump.  "Awesome!  'bout time those HQ weenies made the right call!"  He and Jan exchanged a high-five.  "When do we transfer?"

Blain raised a hand.  "Whoa, hold on a bit!  Jace, contact the S4 and quartermaster and get the ball rolling on the transfer.  Jan, I'm looking over the schematics...  The core of the ship is basically a CR-90 corvette with these two flight bays strapped on.  They have six launch/recovery bays on each side with room for maintenance on each ship, but that means we're going to have to split your flight."

Jan's forehead crinkled and she absentmindedly stroked her saber hilt as she thought.  "Hmm.  Maybe we should just go Blue/Gold?"

Blain and Jace both sat back at that.  Blue/Gold was a re-organization scheme they'd come up with to use in case of the loss of one of the three of them in battle.  It split the squadron (or it's survivors) into two units instead of three.  If they used it here, Jan would basically be giving up what amounted to an autonomous command.  Not an easy thing for a nugget to suggest. 

Jace frowned and shook his head.  "No, I think we should stick with our current rotation.  We practice as three flights and we've been using this arrangement for a while.  Your flight will just be split, one element on each side, but we should be able to make sure you still have common bunk and mess areas."

Blain leaned back and cupped his mug under his chin.  "Agreed. My Gold team will take the starboard bay.  Jace, your Silver team will take the port bay.  Jan, your Bronze team will split up port and starboard.  I want you with me on the Starboard side, put Flight Officer Jo'Nas to port."

Jan nodded.  Jo'Nas'Klu was a grizzled veteran, a warrant officer and the most experienced pilot in the Jokers.  He would make a good complement to Jace's informality and relaxed style in the Port bay while she would essentially do the same for Blain in the Starboard bay.  It also put his greenest flight leader directly under his own thumb, if needs be.  Blain could tell from the look on her face that Jan was calculating all of this in her head and he smiled.  "Don't worry, Jan, I won't step on your toes." 

Her sheepish look confirmed his deduction and he let his smile broaden as her cheeks reddened slightly.  "Yes sir."

"Good.  Now, go tell your teams and get them moving, then I would suggest that we get our dress uniforms in order, Jace.  You know how dingy we look next to Jan's formal robes." 

The three stood and his subordinates departed, smiling. 

Oh yes.  This is going to be fun...

Simple moments, that engage exposure deeper into the individuals, so often in the background, that make the depth of the world fill out so much more richly, with a warmth that invites readers to invest deeper and deeper.

Jan and Jace...Jaina and Jacen...The way it wasn't...or isn't any more...

"Nor is she alone in that... Blain reflected, grinning.  And she could do far worse for a role model!"
could she indeed...what a reputation Karmack must have...interesting possibilities...

Something I forgot to slip into this tidbit: Part of Jan's training was handled by Karmack during one of his teaching rounds.  "Micro-kinetics"...

I like this interlude as a window into the Mak'Tor "rank and file!"  I've always liked these different perspectives, especially as they pertain to the main characters  :)

_{darn it, I wish I would've thought of that... ;)}

And I think that Blain put it best: "Oh yes.  This is going to be fun..."  ;D

BTW: LOVE the title Karm!

LOL   Well, you know what they say....  Jokers are wild.  ;-)

Oooh!

POINT for that one my good sir  ;)

_{Dammit! I wish that I would have thought of that too  ;D}

Don't you dare take it!  Its the title of one of my in progress stories...  ;-)

Interlude: Tears of the Singer

I finished my warm-up stretching and grabbed my water bottle.  Zearic was also finishing up, flowing through his own final warm-ups and I took a moment to look around the salle.  Across the way I saw Talia Cam working out with one of the practice sabers, her activities guided by Koawan Tores, one of the saber instructors.  The teacher in me noted that her Shii Cho techniques were looking very good but her flow was still a little mechanical.  Before I could even be temped to say anything, though, I heard the same observation voiced by Tores.  

Watching her, I was struck by the memory of her late husband, Illian, and his teacher Master Jothan.  A wave of sadness overwhelmed me as it finally penetrated that Illian's death meant that the last member of the last remnant of the old Jedi Order had perished.  The Jedi were truly dead.  Intelligence reports indicated that a member of the Rebel Alliance, Commander Luke Skywalker, appeared to also be a Jedi and had perhaps been trained by Yoda or Obi Wan Kenobi, but all reports agreed that Kenobi had died on the first Death Star over Yavin IV and Yoda had perished in exile.  If Skywalker were a Jedi, he was well and truly the last of his order in the universe.  Vader had been far to efficient in the job the Emperor had given him.  Only the mysterious, cryptic warning sent to them from Vyth had driven the the Mak'Tor far enough underground soon enough to avoid the same fate, and even now the remnants of the Inquisitorious were a constant threat and thorn in their side.

I sighed and let my thoughts turn inward momentarily.  There were new disturbances in the force.  Ripples in the song that bespoke destruction and sorrow.  Not a total destruction or complete sorrow, but something very, very bad.  It sounded very much like the song of the Unnamed One, the Dark Song that had nearly overwhelmed the Mak'Tor and subsumed the Spire when Dorian was guardian.  It was one reason I had re-visited the cave, spoken with Morrigen, the "Unnamed One".  To reassure myself that she was in fact still trapped in her puzzle-box.

She was.  For now.  But there was something coming.  Something ... formless and elusive.  Something dark and dangerous and deadly...

"Penny for your thoughts?"  Zearic interjected.  "You look like you're a thousand light years away my friend."

I shook my head and grinned wrily.  "Just thinking about abscent friends."  I tipped my head toward Talia, still working out across the gym.

Zearic followed my gaze and his own face turned briefly serious.  "Yes."  Shadows played briefly behind the big man's eyes as his own ghosts paraded past.  "Unfortunately loss is a part of this life.  Maker knows why."

"Yes, He does.  Now, are you ready to lose?" I clapped him on the shoulder, grinning.  

"Always."  he stepped back into a ready stance and ignited his saber.  "Fortunately, I won't have to exercise that readiness today."

"Oh, is that how it is?" I grinned and ignited my own saber, flourishing it briefly.  The golden blade hummed through the air in satisfying harmony to the battle song I sang into existence around me.  Even on the low-power "practice" setting there was something far more intimate about fighting with my own blade, in tune with my song.

Zearic was also using his primary blade, the brilliant blue also set at a low-power practice level that would still leave nasty welts and burns but wouldn't do any real damage to person or equipment.  Still, the consequences of taking a strike were far higher than with the practice sabers we usually used to spar.  But this kind of full-contact, full power sparring was the only way to really practice combat.  We didn't do it often, but when we did...

Zearic struck first, moving like lightning, and I spun into the slightly modified Soresu dance that had become my primary form.  As a Water Warrior, Zearic moved with fluid grace.  I knew he'd been working with Kage Lo, who was a high ranking Water Warrior, but he'd also worked with the leading Masters of his own Order and his style, while stressing the agility and flexibility of the Water Warriors, was also infused with the physical power of his size.  It was a formidable combination.

I did my best to flow with him, and something that the Kage had told me once echoed in my mind: The water warrior seeks to flow, to move like water.  Water flows.  It is graceful.  It is powerful.  It is relentless and unforgiving.  

But it can be channeled.

As we moved, I followed the flow of Zearic's form.  He's recently been promoted to "Master of Water" and his mastery showed.  His movements were smooth and flowing, his patterns unpredictable and almost random. His attacks were lighting-fast and relentless.  But there was a pattern: He was moving, flowing, always looking for the opening.  Always primed to find the chink in his opponents form - and exploit it.

So we build the channel...  I let a tiny break in my form slip in.  It was almost invisible, a tiny flaw in the parry of one of his strikes.  In a moment the opportunity was gone.  We moved through more clashes, more orbits, and after a few moves I did it again.  

And again.

And again.

Each time, the chink was tiny.  A minuscule window where my left side could be opened up for a lighting-fast thrust, my blade just out of position to block.

And again...and this time Zearic seized the opportunity.  His pattern shifted and with full commitment he thrust high inside my guard, drawing my blade high - before snapping back and snaking in toward my suddenly wide-open ribs.  Because of the way my small form break caused me to rush the high parry I simply could not get the blade back down in time to block this strike.

But I could get my hilt in place ... just.

Unlike most sabers, I had shrouded my hilt with song-steel.  It wouldn't take more than three or maybe four strikes, but it would take those three or four.  Snapping back, I blocked Zearic's low strike with the pommel end of my hilt, adding a force push to the emitter to push his blade away and turn it back out.  At the same time I spun, slamming my elbow into Zearic's sternum.  I pulled the strike at the last second, stunning rather than debilitating, but the strike still drove the air out of the big man's lungs and froze his diaphram for a few seconds, depriving him of air.  Again aided by a strong push from the force I hammered him backwards a step, still turning, and slammed my bladed left hand into the nerve plexus just inside Zearic's right elbow.  This strike I did NOT pull, and Zearic's right hand went numb as the strike went home.  He lost his grip on this saber and I finished my turn, my own blade retracted now, and slammed a punch into Zearic's chest.  Zearic absorbed the hit and somersaulted backward, ending several paces away in a low front-stance, his hand already reaching for his back-up hilt.

I grinned at him.  "Lose something?"  I reached down and called his hilt to my left hand...

Darkness...  I was in a cave, the light dim.  And the song...  The song was filled with pain.  Betrayal.  Defeat.

Death.

I stepped carefully, gripping my saber.  The air reverberated with the back-wash of power.  There were bodies everywhere, mangled, dismembered...  Blood soaked the floor and spattered the walls, which were themselves scarred with burned-out tracks where plasma seemed to have played over the surface, charred lines connecting empty sockets where light-blue crystal shards winked.  There was also technology in the room, a central dais with a holoprojector and communications array.  Computers.  Work stations.  A massive divot of bent plating and shattered electronics marked the central projector, the cavity smeared with blood...

"I died there."  

I whipped around, startled.  "What?  Who are you?"

The person standing before me was Twi'lek.  He wore gray robes and the badge of the Mak'Tor Kage...  "You know who I am."

"Master Odjina?"  I felt the song rising.  The joy and welcome of the opening phrases transitioning into the minor keys of suspicion and betrayal.  "Master, I don't know how this is possible, but..."

"You must warn them.  Warn Soryu.  This ... imposter ... is no Jedi.  Nor Sith.  He is immensely powerful!  Listen to the song!  You will hear it.  Then warn them!"  The spectre was reaching out to me now, pleading with me.  "You must!  Before it is to late.  Before Kimar makes his final, fatal mistake..."

The Song swelled, almost painful in its frenzy as it exploded into conflict.  Back and forth, the melodies dueling, one light, one dark.  Justice vs Vengence.  Hope and Love vs Pain and Hatred.  And as I listened, I could see them...

Odjina, locked in combat with another man...  He wielded a green light saber and wore Jedi robes, but force lightning danced over his body, forming a personal shield and the pure amount of raw power he was pouring out was incredible!  The Kage was matching him blow for blow, his own battle song augmented and attenuated by the crystals...

The crystals.  I turned my back on the spectres as they battled and touched the cold, dead walls.  The walls were covered in blackened, charred pockets with tiny crystal fragments...

I stepped back, merging with the projection, the memory of the song, and looked back at the walls.  Walls filled not with empty pockets, but with hundreds of small, blue crystals, each one a frosty white-blue color, glowing with power in the walls of the cavern as Odjina used them to attenuate his song.

I turned again, looked at the warriors as they hammered away.  Odjina's opponent was on the defensive now, blocking, moving...  

No.  Not defensive.  Changing tactics...  The song shifted, spiked, a frenzy of arpeggios as lightning again hammered out - this time aimed at the walls.

The dark warrior figured it out.  Systematically he destroyed the crystals that Odjina was using to match his power.  And slowly Odjina weakened, until he was no longer able to handle the force energies with his flesh alone.  He stumbled.  Was struck.  

He fell.

The song descended into a song of death, of defeat, but there were under-currents.  All was not lost...  The warrior ended the fight.  The song settled somewhat, but it was not over yet.  Under it all there was a melody.  I felt my eyes widen as I listened to it.  Recognized it.

It was my song...

No.  Not mine...  One very like it.  Odjina,his shade fading now, swirled into being next to me.  "Yes, you hear it.  Valens could not destroy it.  Could not hear it.  His ears were numb to the still, quiet melody that underpinned it all.  Look ... and live."

I watched as a child crept out of the shadows, approached the dais, snatched up a saber.  She ignited it, and I recognized its harmonies.

The Ancient One!

The warrior ... Valens? ... turned, moved, knelt before her.  I could feel the conflict in him.  The killer ... did not want to kill again.

"Are you going to fight me Ha’Ona’Mack?"

"You're a Sith, you're evil." She said, her voice trembling.  Her eyes were stained with tears but they were steady now.

The warrior considered it.  "Yes, yes I am." He said, but Karmack knew he was lying.  Whatever he was, he was not simply a follower of Sith teachings.  He looked human ... but he wasn't.  

The warrior, the one Odjina's shade called Valens, gave instruction to the droid with Ha'Ona'Mack and allowed them to leave.  With the Ancient One...

Odjina was there again, speaking again.  "There.  There is the key.  The Song of this place, ALL of the songs of this place, are imprinted in the Ancient One.  It speaks to you. You must unlock its secrets.  Learn its ways.  And warn them!  Warn Kimar, he is playing with fire!  It will burn him in the end..."

I turned and looked at Odjina.  "Kage ... I..."

"Warn him!"  The shade gripped my arm.  "You must!  Karmack!  You must!

You must!

You must...

"Karm, you OK?"

I started and jumped back with a cry, flinching away from the hand on my arm.  "What ...  Where am I?"

Zearic stood still, his hands up and open to me.  "Karm...  You're in the training salle.  We were in the middle of a duel.  You pulled a really sweet move on me, picked up my saber and then just ... blanked out."

I blinked.  Looked around the room.  Looked down at Zearic's saber, still clutched in my left hand.  "How long?"

Zearic shrugged.  "Maybe thirty-fourty seconds?  Long enough to notice."  

I looked around the room.  Duels had stopped.  Koawan Tores had broken off his work with Talia and taken a few steps toward us.  Others were looking at us ... no, at me, with looks of concern.  I raised my hand and waved.  "I'm fine.  Just an ... unexpected reaction to a crystal.  Please, go back to your workouts."

I glanced around, waited for everyone to turn away and go back to what they were doing.  I could still hear it, the Song of Vyth, echoing from the crystal in Zearic's saber.  Why now?  Why not before?

Zearic stepped up close, his hand closing over mine.  "Karm, what's going on?"

I looked down at him.  "I wish I knew.  I just had a very ... disturbing vision."  I placed the saber in his hand.  "Zearic, I want to know everything you can tell me about this crystal."

Oh YES!

This Interlude was DOUBLY great!  Karm's vision of Odjina's valiant stand within the permafrost cave against Valens AND Zearic getting another beat-down  ;)

Glad that Karm can hear the Song; now he just needs to get the Ancient One back... Looks like Mellichae is going to have to grow eyes in the back of his head  ;D

And I always enjoy how you tie-in the narrative to canon.  I've said it before: these stories&characters SHOULD be canon!

I can't WAIT to see where this leads Karm!  Chalk up another enjoyable installment  :)

Echoes of a painful past, calling into a future, without understanding that time has passed.  A whole wide galaxy and yet events keep spiraling into one another in a web tied with mysterious strings.  The differing perspective to an already gripping battle, and the desperate plea of a doomed man, to save friends, even ones where forced to be party to his exile, artful, truly.  As well, I can't help but feel as though a part of the song echoing currently should or has to be, "It's a small world, after all..."

Umm.....  That tune is actually the core melody that underpins EVERYTHING else....  ;-)

Meanwhile, the melody of the Rebellion is "Killing in the Name Of' by RAtM...  :P

Tragedy upon tragedy…Odjina demanding Karm warn people who are long long dead about a threat that Died (?) long ago….
It’s an interesting situation, in what does Karm do…he must know everyone Odjina is talking to him about is dead…whatever happened has long since past…does he just keep chasing these shadows or focus on the shadows (i.e. Morrigan) that he knows are real…or will he draw a connection between them?

That's the big question.  :-) 

Honestly, as a writer, that's one thing I have to be careful about - not giving a character to much information.  At this point, I think Karmack would be saddened by the fact that the message was never able to be delivered, particularly in light of what is (likely) about to happen in that timeline to the Jedi.  But having a more complete record of what happened on Vyth will tweak the historian buried within him, and this also ramps up the urgency to recover the Ancient One.

So I think that will be his focus: Recover the crystal and learn from it. 

This story occurs two days after the events of Shadow Etude Chapter 14/ Wind Chimes Chapter 16 Contrapasso.  Also see Interlude-The Zabrak’s Tale and a Master’s Lesson (post 133 on the Interludes thread) and post 201 for more background - Interlude post 124 Scraps occurs shortly after this.

They had arrived at the hive spire about two days after the combatants had all gone.  The caverns and halls were cracked and collapsing from the energies that had been unleashed here…the very energies that had attracted them.

He stood in the centre of the chamber the oblivion black sphere in his hand recorded the echoes of the fight that had occurred mere days ago in painstaking detail for analysis once they returned home.

“Is that Iphosies?” he said, even concealed as they were by cloaking devices and aetheric barriers they would not speak their true names off world, he pointed to the Black-Stone dagger the large one called Zearic had used to kill the Night Sister, replaying the twirling throw that planted it in her skull,

She knelt where he had dropped it during the fight inspecting its echo in the past,

“Must be…she said she left one on Dathomir…quite a journey to get here no doubt” she gave a knowing smile…yet she could feel his concern in the aether

“Oh don’t be such a worrier, what’s the worst that he can do with one dagger,”

He didn’t reply…just brooded…she’d have to work that worry out of him later on.

“Impressive, the singer,” he said through their helmet comm, both were fully armoured as per protocol whenever they were off world…for protection and discretion.

She nodded, “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen one that strong…” she knelt where the singer had fallen after giving his all to heal his friends and attack his enemies, looking at the image of his face, the echo was still clear and sharp so soon afterwards, she noted every detail.

She felt a slight tremor off him

“You’re worried he’ll unlock the crystal,” she strode back toward him and trailed her armoured fingers across his shoulders…the sensation would be lost against his armour…but the proximity might settle him

“He’s already interfered with the Spire on Coruscant…”

“hmmm” something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention
“There the Zabrack…” he was opening the Singers forgotten sabre as the Hapan and the Ferroan clashed

“Ha ha, clever thing took the Rur and the Ancient One…nothing to worry about”

He shook his head,

“The Mak’Tor won’t let it go that easily…” 

“We could intercept it if you’re that worried…”

He paused for a few bats too many as the last of the battle was recorded, the emaciated Ferroan flailing into a side cavern after being beaten by the Hapan, then crushed beneath a torrent of rubble.

“No…he won’t stop till he has it…I know what Mack Clan members are like…I’d rather him chasing the Zabrack than us…and even if the old crystal leads him to Vyth all he’ll find are ruins…speaking of…”

She turned in confusion, he guided her attention to the rubble…beneath it a dark…thin beating…life amidst the static rocks…Hate…hate sustaining life…how very Sith.

“Well…someone doesn’t want to die…” she noted, “we don’t have much time…”

She immediately sent a healing flow into the being, he soon joined her, it wasn’t much for now – any more would be pointless given the rocks would just crush the body back down - but it would sustain the creature until they could get a med-pod down here.

“This could be useful…but might spread us thin…I’ll have to have Cha handle her,”

He was right…it was a resource they couldn’t pass up…but they were spread thin…industrial capacity boosting the Sons…the fleet keeping watch on the increasingly erratic Imperial remnants who were sniffing around the deep core for places to hide…their agents taking advantage of the post Palpatine chaos to raid his Vaults and museums…now the Mak’tor getting ambitious just to top it off.

“I don’t think this Karmack or Zearic will appreciate our charity toward this particular individual…” she noted with a smile

“We can’t be held responsible for what she does after we heal her…still we do need to keep a closer eye on both of them…”

He turned to review once again Karmacks last song before he fainted into a coma from the exertion

“I’ve seen a true Master Singer…” he noted mostly to himself as she draped herself behind him supportively,
“And you are not a true Master Ka’Ah’Re’Mack…not yet…”
***************************************************************************************

Hints at truths and truths shining bright, which is why they are hidden in craft and armor so black as to draw the light from about them...  The dance card becomes more and more complex, while the floor seems to both spread and shrink at the same time.

YES!!

Wonderful LSG!  Just wonderful  :D

You truly improved upon the scene!  This Interlude is most definitely one of my favorites!  All that's left to say is "thank you!"








Well...one more:

Let's get it on!  ;D

That was amazing.  :-)  Simply amazing...

So...   There's apparently some advanced training course or extension module I need to sign Karmack up for...  Hmm...

Maybe.  Yes.

Introductory class: Dantooine.  Self-paced study.  Risk of death and dismemberment.

Perfect.  :-)

This Story Occurs Approximately 1 year after the Events of A Tarnished Knight, Shortly Before Shadow of the Outcast.
He had two messages on his comm, one from the Grand Inquisitor requesting he return to the Imperial Citadel on Byss to discuss his most recent mission, the second from his brother suggesting he NOT return to Byss if he wished to remain the second most handsome man in the galaxy.

A bloody hyper drive malfunction…something as simple as that had let the Jedi slip away from his grasp…he’d severely punished the technician who was meant to keep his ship in good order, but any failure was reflected on him personally in the end…

So he sat on a bar on Nar Shadda sipping a Ryloth Twilight musing on how someone else - probably that jumped up Rowahn who styled himself as ‘Darth’ - would take the glory and the head of that Jedi he had lost, and wondering what next to do with his life…

He couldn’t go back to the Inquisiton, or Imperial space for that matter…join the Rebels maybe? Ha bunch or terrorists had no hope in the end…Maybe he could Find something at Nadia and Anton’s…erggh..too much chance of be recognised by some ex-Jedi who’d gotten away from him…He was down to his last 200 credits, so couldn’t even drink himself to death….

He did have some information on the Inquisitors that might be valuable to …someone presumably…but no idea who to sell it to…he spent his time killing former Jedi and hunting informers, not talking to them…

He idly stared up at the bored twi’lek dancing girls, wearing clothing that was a insubstantial and stingy as the napkins here…maybe he could get work as a mercenary or a Bounty Hunter…or maybe just put his sabre to his temple and quit the whole damn race.

As he nursed the last drops of his drink a waitress appeared and plopped another one beside him,
“Huh…” he came out of his reveries, “I didn’t order…”
“From him,” she pointed to the corner where a man with ash blonde hair was watching him, the man gestured to the empty seats in his booth by way of invitation.

Figuring why the hell not Nimmin Cha swaggered up on wobbly legs and glided over, plonking down beside his benefactor.

“Thanks chum,”  he said taking a deep swig of his fourth Ryloth Twilight in as many half hours,

“You’re welcome,” the blonde man gestured to the waitresses and brought two girls, a light blue Twi’lek and a silver haired human over, he pointed at Nimmin and the ladies began fawning on him. 

“You’re Welcome!  To what do I owe this…generosity?”  he asked as the twi’lek began to lick his ear with seductive and sloppy laps.

“A proposition,” the blonde man replied, he had an odd accent, slightly archaic like he stumbled out of some Old Republic Theatre group.

“My ears are wet with anticipation, HA!” he blurted at his own joke.

The Blonde man offered a thin smile,

“I’m looking for information on the Imperial Citadel on Byss…I understand you might be able to help with that,”

That took him aback…

“I, well, I’ve visited there before…” was this some kind of test, an Imperial Loyalty Officer come to finish him…he didn’t look like Sinjin Rath Velus interrogator extraordinaire…he reached out gently in the force…but…nothing…

“No doubt…how does 5000 credits sound?”

The human girls hand ran up along his thigh,

“Feels…Sounds….good…”

“Well I’ll give you 10,000 if you assist us this once…even more if you wish to enter our employ full time Nimmin Cha,”

That startled him “How did you….”

“You’re in no danger from me Cha,” he placed a bag of twenty 500 Credit Chits on the table along with a datapad.

“These are the schematics of the Citadel…all I want to know is where they bring the bodies of Jedi they recover in, which hangar…”

He stared at the screen…how in the Force did he get this….and why would he want to know…

“Don’t worry," the man giggled in an oddly feminine way
"Just point it out and you’ll get the credits,” he was too drunk to realise the blonde man had just read his thoughts…he scrolled through and found it,

“Hangar 14-B…some time 14-C…for larger ships, open dock 3-F,” he said absently,

“Excellent, the Credits are yours, and as a token of good faith, the girls are paid for along with a room upstairs and all you can eat or drink for a fortnight…,”

With that he stood and left, the Twi’lek pulled his head towards hers and planted a luscious wet kiss, as he pulled off to try and follow the blond man had vanished completely…
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ugghhhh” too many Tatooine Twin Suns he thought as he threw up the nerf burgers from last night into the refresher. 

It was a shabby room that stunk of booze, sweat, sex and vomit…all of which he had added considerably to over the last fortnight…the blonde man had been as good as his word, he’d had the run of the place for two weeks of blissful hedonism…no doubt he’d have to pay for it one way or the other…but he had a plan for that, he’d blow his own brains out.

He struggled back up and rinsed his mouth out, the two girls were flopped on the unkempt bed, he smiled…he wasn’t worried about dying now, he had thoroughly fulfilled all his debauched fantasies and would now die doing what he loved, getting soused and using women.

His parents…his brother…had always been ashamed of him…well his parents would be ashamed of both of them…the fallen stars of the House of Cha…his brother had twice the ambition and half the skill…always hanging around with Gaetana, Rowahn and the like…he had twice the skill but his ambitions were pointed in a different direction…

“You’re truly a good for nothing Nim, if you spent a tenth of the effort you do on drinking and whoring on actually working, you’d give Rowahn a run for his money,” Namman had said…he had brushed it off…what was life without having a good time…Namman’s ambition would get him killed one day….still his brother had at least taken the time to warn him not to come back to Byss….

The alarm beside the bed blared in a horrid squeaky tone, rousing the girls.  He flopped down on the oddly wet lounge as they scraped up their tattered clothes and headed off…all his time was used up…he watched them leave without a word. 

Lurching up he went through his pack to pull his sabre, double ended redder than a Laigrek’s eye.  He lay back on the bed and pressed the emitter to his forehead,

He thought about writing some death poem, or saying something profound…all that came was a bile tasting burp. He hit the activator.

The snap hiss of the sabre erupted lighting the room in a red glow…yet his hands were now empty.  He flopped up and saw the blonde man standing at the foot of his bed his sabre in his hand.

“Enjoy yourself Cha?”  he asked inspecting the glowing blade,

“Right up till now…” he replied groggily,

“Good, there is more where that came from…” he deactivated the sabre and tossed it back to him,

“What do you want?” Cha asked cradling his sabre uncertainly wondering how the blonde man had taken it from him without him noticing…

“It’s very simple…my family doesn’t have a lot of friends outside our home world, but we like having friends, we love our friends, we don’t let anyone hurt our friends,” 

Cha couldn’t sense any deception in what he was saying, but he might be too hungover to really notice

“And we give our friends gifts, whatever they like the most…and we believe friends should help friends, so we like our friends to help us from time to time,”  he leant forward in the way a woman usually would to show off her cleavage…weird…

“And we would like you to be our friend Nimmin Cha,”

Oh stars…this was some kind of weird religious cult….he could see it now…they were about to tell him how now he had fallen into the depths of Sin they would raise him back up to righteousness and eternal life or some rubbish.

“Ha nothing like that, get dressed and I’ll show you,” the blonde man said somehow picking up on his thoughts.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Having nowhere better to go he followed the Blonde man…was he blonde…his hair seemed to flicker to dark occasionally…and his fancy suit seemed immune to the smoke and steam as the headed through the street vendors, then up the turbo lifts to a ‘nicer’ part of the city.

They headed toward the top of a large opulent tower where the best and most successful hutts and crime lords lived. 

“In here,” the man said as the turbo lift doors opened.  Past an entrance was a large open area…at least three stories high all internal walls and ceilings had been removed and replaced with…

“What is this…are you Rebels?”

“Nothing so political,” the dozen or so black armoured figures in the vast room turned to regard him, a few waved from amongst the tonnes of crates of munitions, credits, computers…it was bizarre…a rebel base in the heart of Nar Shadda’s richest district. 

“Not a base…merely a staging area…somewhere for our friends to get together and keep things…we don’t’ really like it here…but we like our friends to be comfortable.”

He turned to…he wasn’t blonde anymore…or a man…a figure in black armour now stood beside him, the hips and bust distinct enough beneath the rich black plating to make out a feminine figure.

“Who. Is. We.” He asked carefully and slowly,

“Open yourself to the force,” 

He thought he already was….but he sensed nothing,

“No…feel every current of existence, not just the bright lights Sidious has you learn…”

Against his better judgement he closed his eyes and reached out to the depths of the force and felt…

Had he not passed out he would've screamed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Deeper and deeper the badger's den goes, for what seemed the hole of a rabbit, is much more deadly, and darker besides.  Vice is such a succinct way to garner tools, when those tools will do for the jobs assigned.  Gears turn, springs unwind, and the strange clock counts the moments towards what end, remains unseen...

ANOTHER TREAT?!

LSG, this was fantastic!!  I love all of the (organically mentioned) easter eggs  :)   The decrepitude, the apathy, the seedy nature of Cha and his forlorn existance, to say nothing of the Nar Shadda underworld.  You truly are a master scribe my friend!

I'm just wondering how Nimman Cha got the special attention of...them  ;)  Seriously, this story just BEGS to be written/read!  What truly wonderful content that you've given us!  And Cha's utter despair, then acceptance, and finally...action.  And for what endgame? 

I don't know but I'm dying to find out!!  AWESOME installment LSG!  Can't WAIT for Part II!!

Well, the brother has emerged.  And in the employ of the Oblivion Gang.  This could be ... troubling ... for the man who killed his brother.

Awesome interlude, LSG!  Thanks again.  Another great entry! 

Note: This scene should be placed the night immediately after Ken and Jorya depart for their mission to the Sons of Kessel, as recounted in the thread titled "The Gray and the Unchained: The Cost of Freedom".
   http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=37226.0
          The memory reference is from "Wind Chimes / Shadow Etude" - specifically the final battle in "Shadow Etude". 
   http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36277.0  and   http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36185.0


** Introspection **

It was late.  Very late.  But my mind would not rest.  Instead it struggled, rolling around and grappling with that great and utterly imponderable question: "Why?"

Maker why?  Why did it happen?

I shuddered as my mind, stalled and fixated to the point of obsession, began the sequence again. Ken, rescuing Jorya.  Zearic holding her, his eyes pleading.  Singing the song of healing.  Ken's question...

And then the angry red saber, abruptly cutting off Ken's arm, emerging from his chest, burning his life away as I watched, helpless...

No, not helpless...

The song that erupted was a healing song, but it was a deeper, more powerful motif than I'd ever sung before.  The song had flowed through me, through the Rur, and out into the pontite, filling the room with power.  It had been deeper and broader than anything I'd ever encounter before.  The energy had engulfed Ken, actually rebuilding his body.  It had done the same for Jorya and Zearic, totally healing horrible wounds.  For them it had been a soothing, healing flow.

For me it had been hell.  The power had burned through my body and mind like raw, untamed electricity.  Where it had healed the others, it had slowly torn the very core of me apart.  I held onto the motif as long as I could, watching as Ken's body regenerated.  All I wanted was to restore my son ... and in the end I had failed to complete the task, leaving him with a stump below his right elbow.

And then I had collapsed.  And in the collapse I'd lost the Ancient One, the core fragment of the shattered Rur, and left my son and companions open to further attack.  But why?  Why was the flow, healing energy for everyone else, even the Zabrek Mellichae, deadly to me? 

Maker help me, I don't understand...

I thought I'd dealt with the aftermath already, in the months since Geonosis, but seeing Ken leave on his first mission had dredged open the wounds, re-ignited the question. 

I had to figure it out.  It was important.  The song was urgent: lives hung in the balance of whether I could solve this puzzle or not.  Life ... or death...

And so I sat, watching the eastern horizon turn pink with the first light of morning, grappling.  Healing power that kills the healer...  How?  There must be a way to heal the healer, too...

The answer was out there.  Tenuous.   Elusive...

I felt Arnor stirring in our quarters.  Reluctantly I began to draw back, preparing for the day ahead.  A lecture at the Academy.  More sparring.  Research into the history of the Ancient One...

The song spiked.  It was subtle.  If I hadn't been so in tune with it, I might not have noticed.  How many times have I missed that riff already?  Research ...

The key was in the past.

I took a deep breath and relaxed, letting the question go for the moment.  So ... somewhere in the past lay the key to the future.  I opened my eyes and sang a song of praise.

Now ... all I have to do is find it.

I love these Interludes!

Such a concise view into Karm for that point of time; yet those can result in incredible epiphanies.

But just what is Karm going to find in the past?  I'm looking to the future to find out!

Great installment Karm  :D

Like an extreme case of physician heal thyself before others...no matter how good it is for everyone else if Karmack gets smashed by it he loses the ability to help or teach anyone...self sacrifice using this ability is in a sense less noble than restraint as long term it hurts more than it heals...time to become a master of his own self!

Exactly.  In the end, the burst of power on Geonosis, as impressive as it was, only came about because he lost control.  He very nearly killed himself, and knew he was doing it, only giving at the last instant because he was trying to hang on and fully heal Ken.  If he'd settled for life-saving only, he might not have passed out at all...

But they survived.  So the important thing is to not make the mistake again.

but that vision of Odjina's fight with Valens is going to haunt him...

That's the thing about music, the song can be the most powerful, beautiful thing in that or any moment, and the conductor brings all the parts and players into the one thing that ties it all together in peace... Harmony.  When the orchestra is skilled, the instruments tuned, the music known, and a conductor with the vision come together, the one thing that practice brings is the harmony.  Once all work in concert together, effortlessly, then all are a part of the whole, and it ceases to be work...

Exactly.  Its just the long effort of getting to that point.  :-)  Karmack's not there yet.

But he's tryin, tryin REEEEEAALLLL hard, Ringo. ;)

He had seen…and done…some horrific things…fortunately Aethan neurobiology was designed to rapidly deal with such things and avoid ruminations that could lead to depression or traumatic stress disorders.

Having said that this was in the top ten of the most sickening things he had seen…he clicked another still amongst the ongoing recording.  The senator form Eriadu was on all fours in-between two male Gamorreans fulfilling his fantasies with the hulking green brutes…

This was the third and thankfully final item to but in the dirt file for the Chancellor, in addition to the evidence of extreme nepotism in the granting of office supply contracts for which the Senator of Eriadu was responsible and the usual willingness to change his vote based on whoever would pay him the most.

Naturally the Chancellor had no desire to prevent such venality, rather ensure he had the strongest ammunition to hold over his head…and so Valens had been asked through Kimar to spend a week looking into the Senators affairs…the messiest of them winding to grunting and disgustingly sticky close in front of him.
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HOLOGGLE MESSAGING APP
-- Bepo’s Bantha Burgers – Freshest and Juiciest with our Secret Tatooine Tang – Franchise opportunities available --
BL@K_PRNCE>>> Check this out
BL@K_PRNCE>>> *Att.SenEria_GamorVid.vid
JdiBabe69>>>EWWWW *GAG*
JdiBabe69>>>WTF want for???
BL@K_PRNCE>>>Blackmail n stuff
JdiBabe69>>>All Bad as each other
JdiBabe69>>>Pfsassks
BL@K_PRNCE>>> still in Senex?
JdiBabe69>>> finishing up, House Anturi agreed to marriage deal to cut angriness and stuff
BL@K_PRNCE>>> frell each other in bedroom better than frell each other on battlefield
JdiBabe69>>>doubt will last…Farasa Anturi kid is whacko
JdiBabe69>>>miss you…can meet up on Rimma back to Core?
JdiBabe69>>> fingers getting sore LOL
>>New Conversation [Blue_is_Beauty]<<
ACCEPT
Blue_is_beauty>>>Agreement 13.3.5 Requisition
Blue_is_beauty>>>immediate, armed
BL@K_PRNCE>>>Calcing
BL@K_PRNCE>>>2 day’s minimum to arrive...will leave in 4 hours tidy up job for Grand Dren Licker
Blue_is_beauty>>> LOL
[[]]
BL@K_PRNCE>>>Something just came up…sux…
JdiBabe69>>>…I want sux…*frown*
BL@K_PRNCE>>>Sorry...will get you something, shouldn’t be long…Corus 5 days?
JdiBabe69>>>Can do, Black or Red?
BL@K_PRNCE>>>What?
JdiBabe69>>>Lipstick!
BL@K_PRNCE>>>You don’t need it sweetie, look sexier without it
JdiBabe69>>>*blush* hang on a min
JdiBabe69>>>*Att.1134.12.PHOTO.Pic
JdiBabe69>>>to get yr mind of gross vid…girls hungry to be eaten!
BL@K_PRNCE>>>Your Beautiful! See you soon
JdiBabe69>>>Take care V.  S.
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Seeraw’wassan’Nuruodo was waiting for him at Ry’Kak’Cor Station located in a small system of just three gas giants and a star between Illum and Csilla.  Nominally run by a private mining firm it was a Chiss launch point into the Republic and served as a rendezvous point for their agents.

He gave the pict Sofa had sent him of her ‘girls’ spilling out of her white bra another glance…he still felt slightly traumatised by the Senators peccadillos.  Apparently among humans it was normally the males who were the more sexually aggressive…in that sense Sofa was atypical, but it felt familiar to him - amongst Aethans women were almost universally sexually dominant.  This wasn’t the first time she’d sent such pictures of her ‘girls’ or her ‘princess’ - she had quite the exhibitionist streak…most likely a subconscious reaction against the secrecy and stigma associated with relationships and sexuality within the order….Another time bomb Kimar was merrily planting within the Order…

“Knight,” Wassan nodded in the small hangar bay,

“Minister,” he nodded back,

“Let’s frell the formalities shall we,” Wassan went on, he could feel the sense of release pouring off the Chiss, curious so like the Order in terms of hierarchy…so like the Jedi in ripping loose as soon as they could get away from it.

“What is the issue,”

“Here,” Wassan tossed a Chiss data disc,

“For a few years now…there has been a small group of Chiss religious fanatics operating on one of the moons of Mobus, no one really cared to be honest, they numbered all of three hundred at most, a few were allowed to preach in public forums but only attracted the failures,”

Chiss meritocracy was brutal, anyone who failed to achieve a proper station became an instant pariah virtually cast out of even the lesser families, so they allowed such groups to operate – often under the clandestine control of the Ascendancy itself - as a way to deal with and control the dispossessed.


“It’s not one of ours…only notable thing was its lead by the Son of a former Minister, washed out his CEDF training and went off while his father was still in office, but that was decades ago.”

“And the problem now is,”

“Watch the recordings,”

Slipping the disk into the modified received of his datapad the first image showed a middle aged to elder Chiss male on some kind of pulpit preaching

“The time of ending has commenced, upon the dread world to be remade but the Comers, the last Gods shall do battle, the White and the Red, if the Red doth sunder the White, the Ascendancy shall to fire and ash be condemned, and the Comers repelled, but should the White…”

“He just goes on and on…go fifteen minutes in,”
Zooming forward an old crippled Chiss was brought before him, raising his hand the cripple was lifted in the air, the body trembled and shook before being let down, the man now able to walk.

Valens shrugged, he’d seen such things a thousand times from con men zooming through the holo-net for traces of actual force users with unique powers.

“See now the Grand Spirit flows through me to you, that you may be without excuse…here now I shall perform another sign…” the Chiss went on, the area around him brightening with light that seemed to come from within him

“the Grand Spirit admonishes all who have fallen into the lie of the Ascendancy, into valuing rank and skill over love and justice, walking in darkness, stumbling blind towards the abyss as the Conflagration of White and Red nears!”

The video flicked off and the next one started, a middle aged Chiss male, a stern face with a number of small scars and military bearing – although most Chiss possessed that

“I Ryshall’Tillick’Urodou do repent of my sin in attempting to undermine the work do the Grand Spirit by destroying the physical shell of the The Anointed,”

Anointed…Valens would’ve guessed ‘The Prophet’ or ‘The Master’…

“And do repent of my having doubted the truth of the words of The Anointed,”

“Colonel Ryshall’Tillick’Urodou,” Wassan interrupted as the video continued to drone out confessions,

“Was an experienced deep cover operative…to be frank our best…over the last year The Anointed started becoming more militant, harassing people in the colonies, preaching about the end of the Ascendancy and how it shackles the minds of the people…we sent him into investigate…his last report is on the disc only a week after arriving, he was reporting the miracles were not faked…and doubting his mission, this ‘confession’ was distributed publically a week after…”

Valens understood…a Chiss operative like that would need some serious convincing to join up, torture would be unlikely to work, and two weeks was not enough time for it anyway…

“You think The Anointed is using the force for his miracles and to detect your agents…” he noted

Wassan nodded gravely, the Chiss did not like the force, something they couldn’t analyse, and something that defied their rigid view of the way the galaxy worked…and so they had called him to look into it…part of their agreement he was on call to deal with such ‘unusual’ occurrences.

“We need to know what we’re dealing with…we can’t be seen spying on our own…and if this Anointed is using such nefarious means of control…”
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…The so called meritocracy of the academies in fact serves only to legitimize and perpetuate the privilege of the Ruling Houses.  By asserting that an individual’s success is purely the result of their own competencies divorced from their clan resources, it systematically disadvantages those students without access to private tuition and private learning facilities common in wealthier clans and labels the failure of disadvantaged students as being the direct result of the students own poor work ethic and ability. 

This perpetuates across generations as those with clan privilege as I will refer to it hence forth, are consistently more likely to achieve commissions in the CEDF and subsequently achieve merit based adoptions into larger houses, and high status roles within the government or within their own Houses administration…

…So long as this system continues we will continue to have a permanent underclass of low power clans disconnected from and resentful of the opportunities afforded to the wealthier clans.  In turn the belief that their poverty is a result of their own moral failings entrenches discrimination against low power clans by incorrectly attributing responsibility from the Social system to the individual.

--Professor Nyray’Arrun’Sabosen of Csilla Polar University Social Sciences Division translated from Cheunh

And then I beheld the Harbinger of the Grand Spirit Descend before me…its body was silver flame, its face adamantium,
“Come and See” it told me and I fell to my knees to worship it in fear and trembling
But it raised me and said
“Do no worship for I am but a messenger of the Grand Spirit,”
“When Sin has reached its fullness, then by their sins of greed and violence they shall awaken the three headed demon.
It showed me the First of Nine Scrolls, the scroll had four seals
The Demon destroyed the First seal, the Poet of the Creator most pure and noble laid low by vile treachery
The Demon destroyed the Second Seal the Scion of the Just twisted by his own pride laid low by consummate vengeance
The Demon destroyed the Third seal, the Lord of Sin drowning in his own pleasures laid low by ice cunning
The Demon destroyed the fourth seal, the Soul Thirster who Never Drank falsely satiated by vengeances cup
The Scroll opened and I beheld White and Red masked behind the Demons slaughter
--The Anointed’s Vision on the Sixth Night of Fasting as recorded by Brother Twarrin’Nsarra
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Whilst there were some non Chiss species under the Ascendancies rule, there were no humans, so any infiltration had to be completely hidden. Fortunately that was not difficult, with Wassan’s information Valens slipped aboard a freighter bound for Mobus VI, the Chis crew oblivious to his presence even when standing in front of him.

The trip was swift, only 9 hours with three jumps.  The Moon had a thin atmosphere that wasn’t breathable, but the gas mix of oxygen, nitrogen and traces of argon was easily purified to be breathable in the old outpost that was now called the Temple of the Anointed.

He slipped out as the cargo haulers began moving the crates of food and supplies donated by supports throughout the Ascendancy, in exchange hand woven prayer shawls, ‘scared’ water and hand written prayer books were packed on board. 

The captain of the freighter utterly disinterested and internally mocking of the peculiarities of the cult the only thing noticeable in the aether even as he made a juicy profit from the trade for his Clan, resenting that he had never received a commendation for saving an Officers life in a battle fifteen years before and was stuck with crummy jobs like this.

He was only one step above the others here Valens noted as he slid through the hallways a living shadow taking in the light of thought and emotion.  These were the lost Chiss, unable to acquire enough merit to be adopted into a larger House or Clan, too inept to find work, too emotional and dishonourable to remain supported by their own clans, they pooled to anyone who would offer purpose outside the constrained paths the Ascendancy offered but then shut them out of with its high standards.

He found it detestable…everyone had something to contribute, he would, had and must continue to kill for a population as large as the Chiss, but even then would never contemplate such ostracism, every Aethan had a role, a place…

He sometimes wondered if the dismissive way other races treated their own was due to their lack of the aether…amongst his own everyone could feel another pain or sadness, and as the whole community could feel it, so it was whole communities role to address it…without that connection could they be just as inhumane to their own?

Stalking through the common rooms shadows he felt their renewed sense of purpose and belonging here…he could sympathize with these Anointed…but that would not stop him putting an end to it.
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The circle formed of seated brothers and sisters in what was once a munitions storage room, now stripped bare apart from the red hand woven mat.

Elder Brother began with a recitation

“Blessed are those who read and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and keep the things that are written in it, for the time is at hand. Grand Spirit Anointed us,”

“Grand Spirit Anoint us” the chant returned,

“We shall now confess, I confess to having doubted the words of the Anointed, having doubted the White and Red would come to pass…my sin is fear of my own sin leading me to deny the truth for else I must be convicted of my sins…Grand Spirit Forgive me,”

“Grand Spirit Forgive us”

Younger brother was next

“I confess to having lustful thoughts for another brother, my sin is lust…may I be convicted of my Sin…Grand Spirit Forgive Me”

“Grand Spirit Forgive us”
And so they proceeded until all had confessed, then Elder brother took the Chalice, filled with melt waters from Csilla’s galciers.

“Take and Drink…” he sipped and passed it around as they did so he recited the words of the Anointed

“Drink these the waters of our home from whence we are cast out and despised…drink from the Chalice with those who will not judge nor abandon you....Take and drink”
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“I knew you would come,” The Anointed replied to the shadow in the room
“It was foretold to me,”
He walked to the centre of his chamber and spread his arms, his ragged gown hanging loosely,
“I am no warrior I will not resist you…there is no difference in life or death, I am with the Grand Spirit, the Grand Spirit is with me.”
Silence

“At your leisure then,”

Silence

Silence

He began to wonder if he actually was alone…
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This is Narawan’Undoro’Idontik for Csilla News Network reporting our top story for the night.

CEDF forces responded to a distress signal today from Mobus where a Religious group calling themselves the Anointed, on the orders of their leader committed mass suicide in an attempt to ‘become one with the Grand Spirit’, the following footage was recovered from the scene, a warning this may distress some viewers,”

“My children the time has come, the End is here, all who fall by the Demons hand shall be taken by him into the depths where the Three Headed Demoness shall devour them for ever, take…take and drink deeply of the Chalice passed around…take and drink"

Three children aged 14 and younger were found on the moon after activating the distress beacon and reported the leader of the group, also called the Anointed was increasingly unstable in the days leading up to this event. 

287 bodies have been found and identification work has begun, if you believe you had family or friends amongst this group please click the link on your screen.
*********************************************************************************************************

Well, that was interesting!  Sort of a Chiss version of Jonestown...  Or was it?

I liked the play on the Revelation passage.  :-)  Nice touch!  Though you might want to be careful of the curse...  ;-)

But seriously, very interesting.  i like the peek into Valen's mind, especially his contempt for the way Chiss society tosses the bottom end of its society, as it were.  Considering how some Aethans treat other people I find it an odd sort f blind spot.   but the Kiraea is not typical either so...   :-)

Indeed who poisoned the Chalice?

Hmmm yeah a bit of a blind spot...or its that he can't understand how Chiss treat their own badly...he could accept Chiss killing other species as logical...but not being mean to their own - put another way In-group ostracism confuses and appals him, but no level of out-group violence ever would.

Yeah, that's actually totally consistent.  :-)  Getting them to understand that other people are ... people ... will be the hard part, I think.  :-)

Great interludes guys.

Karm, really liked the two training scenes. Like TD, I am a sucker for those training montages like that. But also getting a glimpse into other parts of the universe such as Odjina was great. Plus its always fun to see two powerful warriors such as Karm and Zearic sparring.

LSG, you interludes are always a great look into different characters, and seeing characters like Cha, who despises Rowahn and Gaetana because they are so much higher in rank and power than him was great. But this last one with Valens. . . wow. Scary stuff. I mean, the Chiss are scary enough as it is, but mix them with a cult, that's almost too much. Still great writing.

You're right LSG: that Interlude WAS a departure from your normal installments; I like it. 

Karm said exactly what I was thinking when I read it: a Chiss analogy to Jonestown.  Clearly Valens did...something.  But how much and what, exactly did he do?  And as these Chiss do not subscribe to Ascendency norms, would we even know as to how much Valens needed to do in order to facilitate such?

Oh: and the computer interchange between Valens and Sofa=priceless  ;D

So we see behind so many screens here; how Sofa is the intimately aggressive one, and how so, that Valens does have a deeper compassion, even though he will do terrible things for his people.  I wonder, given his thoughts here, if part of what drives them to such violence and anger isn't the absence of that communal connection.  By being in a community, culture, where everyone can feel what the others are going through, and give communal support, I wonder if it tempers the potential to such cruelty and malice, and by not having it, the suffering, pain, longing, and loss the Aethans experience just continue to echo and grow within them...

This Story occurs approximately two months after the events in Karmacks Zealots Series.
The show was bright and jovial…her mood was dim and sullen.  As the final applause in the small room died down and the singer gestured to the band, she noted the breezy smiles on the women’s faces on the table beside her…so flighty and free…the true form of the part she had played on Lyran IV…

Taking on the role of the eye candy had annoyed Illian…he hadn’t said anything…but she felt it…a smudge in the memory of their last days together she couldn’t clean off….there had been no time to discuss it…to resolve it…before…

Before her world had fallen apart.

Again…

She went through the motions of heading out of the room back into the main bar…Koawan Tores had suggested she get out more and had recommended the band playing out of a mid-sized hotel in Sierra’s unofficial tourist sector. 

She plonked down on one of the stools…she was thirsty…and the array of cocktails looked tempting…

But she knew…if she started trying to dull the pain that way…she wouldn’t be able to stop at just one…

Sighing she absently ordered a berry juice from the brightly painted serving droid.

She was so tired…not physically…just…emotionally…of losing…of being lost and used…first by the conmen who had lured her off her home, then by the Emperor who had dominated her mind and body….It had seemed so perfect…meeting Karmack and Arnor…meeting Illian…moving to M’Tzigon…yet like everything else in her life it was turning to garbage…

“So did he cheat or leave without a word in the morning?” came a sweet voice beside her,

She hadn’t even noticed the woman had taken the next stool she was so lost in her own thoughts.

“What…” she replied looking into the striking blue eyes of the woman beside her…she was a little taller than Talia, dark hair and cool white skin, a subtle citrus perfume he couldn’t quite pick.

“Man troubles…what did the bastard do to get you so down sweetie?”

Talia shook her head in slight confusion…but of course…this woman couldn’t possibly know…and Talia was a sad looking young woman alone at a bar…

“Nothing like that he…” it seemed to get harder each time she had to say it…as though each time the words came she took another step further from him,

“He passed away recently,”

She looked instantly apologetic,

“Oh…I’m sorry for your loss…I…” she tapped on the bar,

“Droid, whatever she wants is on me,” the yellow diodes blinked in acknowledgment

“Sorry if I upset you…I just assumed…”

“It’s fine” Talia replied in spite of her true feelings.

The droid brought over their drinks, and the woman ordered a small bowl of various spiced legumes as well after Talia declined anything larger to eat,

“Well…this is awkward…” she finally said, “My friends call me Vesi it’s nice to meet you…”

“Talia,” she replied indifferently staring into the deep purples of the juice

“Talia…what a beautiful name! Taleea…Talaayaa…” she sounded out for no reason other than perhaps to fill the silence. 

“So I’m guessing someone told you to go out on the town to get over it…and it just isn’t working is it?” Vesi went on

She had to chuckle “True…”

“Well look…umm this place gets a bit rough later in the night…lots of Hutt spits looking to score…so I wouldn’t stick around much longer…anyway…like  I said anything you want here is on me…but look I’ve had my share of loss…and one thing I hate is how everyone you know treats you differently, they try not to but they do…so if you want to get away from the folks for a bit…”  she slid a small piece of flimsy across the bar with a room and comm number on it.

“I’m staying at the M’H’ron Ski Lodge with some girlfriends on a holiday…if you want to hang out for a few days…some skiing, ice skating…pillow fights…just call.”
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She had never been to the Ski lodge before…whilst she’d hiked in the mountains a few times with Illian, Karm and Arnor they hadn’t visited the Ski lodges…perhaps a trip for anniversaries that would never come…

She had decided to take Vesi up on her offer…Arnor had recommended it to get her mind off things, meet new people and spend some time away from her usual haunts.

It was well laid out, tastefully high class in its furnishings, suited for the wealthy few, M’Tzigon didn’t exactly actively promote tourism, but it didn’t dissuade it either and it provided good jobs for younger adults in between study, and credits from outside helped the economy tick over.

The turbo lift slid open to the 38th floor to her surprise Vesi was waiting for her,

“Glad you came,” she beamed “Come on I’ll introduce you…do you have ski’s…no you don’t that’s ok we’ll buy you some…we love skiing…so much fun…too dangerous at home…not enough soft peaks…”

Talia was swept through the doors into a large lounge room behind, at the far end of the room was a stunning view of the ski slopes to the west and the trees that peaked along the mountains east side.

The chatter she had heard before suddenly stopped as she came in and the five other girls all turned to stare at her. 

“Everyone this is Talia, Talia this is Sophi and Mari, Lysi, Kari and Yara,”

“All the good ones end with Isk!” Mari (?) blurted,

“Shut up! Aureks rule!” Yara replied playing on the fact everyone else’s name ended with Isk,

Following a memory tune Karm had taught her to always use when meeting new people she took note of the faces…Vesi, Sophi and Mari all had darker hair, blue grey eyes with more pointed features, the others brown with aqua eyes and more rounded…all exceptionally beautiful…their skin so clear and white…not even a freckle or spot...it was almost…supernatural…despite the slight differences between the two sets of three they still might all be sisters,

“Are you related?” she asked

“Ha she found out our secret! We have to kill her!” bounded the same one from before

“MARI!” Sophi, who had a more serious look about her than the rest scolded

“Don’t threaten our guests…You’re right, I’m the oldest then Vesi and Mari…our cousins Lysi, Kari and Yara are sisters.”

“Lots of kid’s small gene pool….” Mari mused “but it’s OK, incest is only bad if you get pregnant!”

“MARI!”
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The day passed so quickly, they headed up to the slopes and tackled all the runs, the cool early snows soft and white, the girls were all very nice and friendly, Mari the standout saying in appropriate things and teasing her sisters, although she noted Kari…or was it Yara…they were hard to tell apart…was just as bad if less obvious about it.

After a morning skiing they returned to the Lodge for lunch, she felt ravenous after so much physical activity…and the girls must’ve been as well…they demolished several main courses each then attacked the desserts like psychotic killers…it was actually quite frightening to watch. 

She discovered they were all from a wealthy family from the core, destined to be in the family business, exactly which company they didn’t say, but Talia guessed it must be some conglomerate of some kind given they had studied all kinds of topics from Astrophysics to Xeno-biology.

“So what do you do?” Kari asked her between huge mouthfuls of cream cake

“I work…at the Mountain with the Men at Arms,”

“Rifle Polisher?” Yara interjected

“With her tongue!” Mari went on

“Mari…” Sophi warned,

“She started it…Sorry…are you in the military?” Mari apologised

“Yeah…on a…sabbatical at the moment,”

“Oh…do you like it?” Kari went on

“It’s…difficult at times…but worth it…” she only then realised she hadn’t really thought about Illian at all that day…was that a sign of betrayal…or just moving on?
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The afternoon was spent on the ice rinks, all of the girls were exceptionally talented skaters, fast and fluid...almost too fast to track against the white of the ice.   But they really took off once the early evening began and the coloured lights and DJ came on.

Vesi grabbed her hand and guided her through the dance for a few beats, but soon a rhythm developed between them, their movements in perfect unison as the danced like professional skaters…spinning and twirling in flurries of grace and passion, she felt so free and yet connected, her body relishing the movement.

Vesi’s hand pushed against the small of Talia’s back pulling her into a close embrace as they spun like lovers upon the ice, the cool of the mountain winds lost against the heat of their bodies…it was so cool…yet so warm…

She began to feel…things…she never imagined she would again…certainly never imagined she would feel for another woman…

Illian…

She stopped dead almost causing Vesi to tumble as their momentum was broken, but she steadied them both,

“You all right?” she said so close to her ear…the last person whose lips had blown such a cool breathe on her ear….

“Yeah…just…maybe we should head off to dinner,” Talia recovered,

“Good idea,” without a signal the other girls stopped and headed out with them.
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“How long are you on holidays for,” she asked Vesi as they headed back,

“Another fortnight…then back home…but Sophi and Yara have some business around the place,”

“Perhaps I could show you the sights of Sierra,” Talia offered

“I’d love that!” she beamed, “Such rich history here,”

“Is that why you came here…M’Tzigon’s not exactly a huge tourist destination…”

Vesi shrugged,

“That’s what makes it appealing…not big crowds…and much nicer people here…no pushy trinket sellers or people trying to rip you off…all you Maker lovers are so honest and decent…”

Talia had to chuckle, thinking of Karm and Arnor…and how quickly the culture here had rubbed off on Julwynn and Balnard…

“I suppose they are like that aren’t they…”

“You’re not originally from here?” Vesi probed

“No I…moved here with my late husband…”

“Sorry…touchy subject?”

“Well…”

“It’s fine,” Vesi slid her arms around her shoulder and gave her a supportive squeeze

“Let’s just keep enjoying ourselves in the now!”
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Once more she and the others tore through all the food on offer…it must be costing them a fortune…Talia wondered if she should offer to pay for her share.

They talked about all kinds of things as they demolished everything on offer…the latest episodes of the Histo-holo-Drama The Daring and the Devious…”I’d snookle her” Sophi had quietly noted about the leading lady Nemi Solsar to Mari’s great amusement…

“Ha…Talia who would you snookle!”

She couldn’t help but blush…a small trickle of sweat down her back

“Talia doesn’t snookle and tell like you do,” Vesi intervened, her hand giving Talias a squeeze under the table.

They talked of what new dresses from Core Fashion Week they liked the most and would buy…Talia had blanched at the prices….It was so refreshingly normal and light…as much as she loved things at the Mountain…they were so preoccupied with the Civil War…chasing down dark siders, spying on abolitionists…

Here she could just be Talia…a young woman and not have to think about all that…gunk to worry about…

“Wow…what a day…Thank you so much for inviting me Vesi…it was just what I needed,” Talia said as the meal wound down, she check the clock in the corner

“I really have to head back though…”

“Oh please stay…it’s too dangerous to be flying at this hour…” Lysi replied,

“Yeah, we have the whole floor booked, more beds than we need,” Yara added,

“Yeah we just sleep naked on the floor after our debauchery,” Mari chimed in

Talia couldn’t tell if Mari was joking or being serious sometimes…but then that was the essence of her humour.

“I…thank you…but I really prefer my own bed…” they all looked so disappointed

“You don’t even want to stay to watch some vids, talk about girls – or boys or whatever you’re into getting hot with – do each other hair and nails?” Kari asked

“I…” she was tempted…these girls were just so…normal…just young women having a good time…cutting loose, cracking jokes that would probably be inappropriate back home…letting their hair down…

After everything she had been through she needed some more normal…

“I can’t tonight…but if you don’t mind me coming around tomorrow…” she offered,

“We’d love you to!” Vesi replied instantly, “Sophi have you got the…”

The elder girl…although they all looked around the same age pulled a small black box from her hand bag,

“This is for you!” Vesi said offering it to her,

“For our new Friend Talia!”

She was overwhelmed…surprised…but flattered…lifting the lid she peeked inside…

It was a small three pointed star made of a rich almost blood red stone attached to a golden necklace. 

“I…I can’t accept this…it’s too much,”

“Of course you can we like to give our friends gifts!”

“No really this is too…”

“Not it isn’t you have to take it…it’s our tradition every guest has to be given a gift!”

She lifted the red star…it was unusually weighty,

“I guess I have to accept,” Talia replied to the beaming smiles of the six girls.
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Well if that doesn't ring ominous...

I agree with Illyiss. Something is off about these girls. I can only assume they are Aethan, but we have no true indication other than that they are from the Core. Still some interesting things going on here. And I am not sure that I should trust the little star the girls have Talia. But it is good to see something from Talia's perspective after loosing Illian.

Illian, I love it!  Like other have said, I'm not sure I trust that pendant, but I do like the idea.  And if they are Aethans...  

Interesting.  Very interesting.  :-)

And in all honesty, I LOVE the idea of there being a tourist trade on M'Tzigon, complete with ski resorts!  But you must know: the premiere resort is Boyne Mountain.  ;-)  (google it!  LOL)

[/b]
[135,258]
“Hrmmm…” she grunted at the result…
>>Enter search Parameters
[Satellites > 12
Star Age> UNKNOWN
Coruscant Standard Habitable Planets> 1+
Location> Core Inne]
>>>Searching>>>>Searching>>>>
[17,892]

She blew out…no luck…if she knew how many moons each planet in her system had…but she’d learned gas giants could have dozens that wouldn’t be visible without radio-telescopes…none of which they had at home…
She’d be here for a while then…at least it was more interesting than the Saani called Yavin. And if she was going to be staying in the land of Galtea…planet...planet of Galtea…she reminded herself… she had better ask permission.

She slid out of the desk and headed to Saani and Kazics room past the large windows that overlooked the artificial yellow and white lights of the towers, their false energy drowning out the true lights of the stars.  For people who made such clever things she thought, they were not very wise.

She entered the sequence to open the door to their room,

“Saani I need to go to where the earth and water is, away from the buildings and pavement,”

“ugghhh…not again…” Kazic groaned half awake

“Ari…” Saani said groggily…”You can’t keep coming in here without knocking first…shouldn’t you be asleep…”

“oh…” she hung her head down a little in apology, “Sorry I forgot,”

“It’s fine…just…think about it a bit first…” Saani sat up, “Earth…so somewhere natural…I can take you to the Stryka Annix Memorial Botanic Gardens tomorrow,”

“Thank you Saani” she merrily replied then skipped off into the darkened apartment

“How does she keep working out the door code?” Saani asked,

“If I knew that….” Kazic replied his face buried in the pillow “I’d make a fortune selling security systems…”

“or breaking them” she laughed rubbing his shoulders.
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It had such a long face and tusks on the end…She recalled the entry on page 456 of the Catalogue of Intelligent Life in the Galaxy 8th Edition…this was a Whiphid from the snowy world of Toola…

 “Ari…you shouldn’t stare like that…” Saani cautioned,

“Oh…alright…” she said following along but still glancing behind to watch how the furred thing moved

It was very confusing all the strange creatures…and even more confusing was they weren’t all one people…Saani was a Twi’lek…but some of the evil people who attacked the village had been Twi’leks…but they weren’t all the same…but they were the same species…but they didn’t all live together…and some even had red, or green, or pale skin…and did different things and lived in different places…very strange.

The Botanic Gardens were toward the centre of the city, filled with red-orange leaved trees and blue grasses situated about a ring of twelve small lakes connected by winding streams that pooled into a larger feature in the centre of the vast grounds.  Around the grasses and benches were all kinds, people coming in before work, or after late shifts, Vhal’Dan meditating alone or in small groups on the grasses, a few food carts selling various confectionaries and breakfast sticks.

“I should’ve anticipated you’d feel a bit trapped in city after so long in the jungle,” Saani noted,

Aresaea shrugged, “That’s alright, it’s all just a different kind of jungle,”

“Ha…out of the mouth of babe…” Saani laughed,

Aresaea glanced around one of the pools that lapped against a blocky border to the blue grasses…that should do…earth, water, air...one of them would surely hear her from there.

“Do the Gods on Galtea have names? Or are their names secret?” she asked

Saani looked slightly stunned,

“I…I’m not sure what you mean?” Some of the questions Ari came up with were…quite random…the first founders had a set of basic agrarian belief in spirits…but she couldn’t recall any details off the top of her head.

“That’s alright, most of them prefer their names to be secret anyway…I have to go talk to them,”

Saani was about to say something but the determined intensity of Aresaea’s mood gave her pause…this might be something better left for her to do alone.

She left Saani to sit on the rocks, pulling off the boots Kazic had bought her to dangle her feet in the lake, taking in a deep breath she spoke to the earth, air and water about her.

“I’m Aresaea, my Goddesses are Aethenaea, Aertemisaea and Aephrodaea, they’re from a long way away…but I’ll be visiting here for a while…I’m not sure how long…so I thought I should introduce myself…”

She looked around but nothing seemed to have changed much…maybe they were shy

“Well my Goddesses are very nice, if you’re friendly to them they’ll be friendly to you…and if you are nice to me I think they would like that, and they’ll be nice to your People if you visit us,”

The wind picked up a little…maybe it was them replying but she couldn’t tell…she supposed the Gods here were as strange as the different species…but given there were so many different species on Galtea they mustn’t mind visitors…not like the Gods on Yavin.

After they had crashed the blue thing…which she now knew was an Umbaran’s…ship she and her uncle had explored looking for another flying cart, or portal back home…but there weren’t any…so he asked her to talk to the Gods there to ask if they could stay and apologies for crashing the flying cart.

There were two groups there…the Green one of the Jungles was the bigger one, it didn’t seemed to mind them being there…it soon sent different animals that were called by Saani’s people Runyip’s, Stintrails and Whisper birds for them to hunt and make things from, and Woolamanders with funny long arms good for swinging from trees showed them what fruits were good to eat.

The other God was black and spoke with many tongues…some called themselves Sith, some Massassi…they lived in the big stone temples and buildings, they talked a lot, but her uncle told her not to listen to them too much, and to keep away from the one called Exar Kun…still she would watch them sometimes, she liked Naga Sadow the best, he was the most clever one…but his spirit was very old and fading away.

But the Green Goddess of the Jungle didn’t like the Black spirits…they did strange things to the animals and plants, made them twisted and thorny if they got too close, so it was trying to get rid of the big temples by having plants grow roots between the blocks to pull them down over time….one day it would win…but it would take a long time.

She looked around again for any signs…none so far…well she had announced herself…to the Gods that lived near Saani’s apartment…so that was enough for now…another day she could visit a mountain to see if there were more talkative Gods there.  

“Well…I guess your shy…or maybe busy…so I’ll just leave you this…” she took a small totem she had made out of the metal they called durasteel out and put it in amongst the rocks

“Now you know what my Goddesses look like if they come here looking for me,” she wasn’t sure how Gods talked to each other but it couldn’t hurt.

Ari wandered back after about fifteen minutes…Saani wasn’t exactly sure what she was doing but it seemed fairly innocuous…likely some kind of ritualistic welcoming ritual.

“Everything alright,” she asked as the girl returned,

She shrugged, “They don’t talk much…or maybe they don’t speak in a way I can understand…but they don’t seem to mind me being here,”

Something about that struck Saani…had she ever thought to ask a planets permission to just be there before? It seemed silly in a way…yet in another she felt slightly rude at having trampled across the dirt of dozens of planets without a thought as to what the planet itself might think…

“I’m hungry…can we get some of those things,” Ari pointed at a cart manned by a Bith behind a series of steaming pots,

“Sure,” she pulled out her credit chit, “Why don’t you pay for it,”  Ari needed the practice the concept of money still seemed to throw her off…she had so much to learn…still as she watched the girl sprint off Saani couldn’t help but wonder if it was her that needed to be learning from Ari instead.
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“You haven’t said much since you came back,” Kazic noted for perhaps the fourth time since he had met him at the spaceport. It was true, the tip to Coruscant had left him…speechless was too strong a word…he just needed time to consider how best to communicate what he had…not just seen and heard but Felt there to the Council…

“You can be sure I will…but for now I’m more interested in the souvenir you found on Yavin,” Anson flicked the small wooden totem of three deities around in his hand, but was referring to the foundling who had made it.  Kazic was waiting for him on his return and had invited him to dinner with Saani to introduce him to the unusual girl who was apparently also preparing the meal.

“Well you’ll see soon enough…I’m sure I don’t need to but remember she is rather sensitive about talking about her past…and,”  Kazic paused briefly glancing to the side of the turbo lift as it rose trying to work out how to put something

“Something I didn’t mention is she is quite strong in the force and...has a tendency to try and delve ones minds…I’m not sure she is aware of it sometimes so just be cautious,”

His eyes narrowed.

“She delves people?”

“It seems instinctive to her…whilst she looks human I assure you she isn’t,”

Meta-humans were not uncommon, indeed many species shared a common homo-sapiens ancestry at some point and were vastly different now – the Chiss as case in point - but this sounded unusual

“Have you discerned her species?”

“Not yet…I must admit I’ve been busier with the cataloguing of the artefacts we found on Yavin,”

“hrmm…well…” the turbo lift slowed dampeners preventing any more than minor discomfort as it slowed from its mag acceleration

“Enjoy it while you can my friend…I fear we won’t have the luxury for such pursuits for much longer.”

“Anson!” Saani beamed as he stepped in but paused as they greeted,

“You seem a little tense, come sit down, K’ompo can you check on Ari, she’s set up on the balcony,”

“Balcony?”

“Wood fire cooking…a traditional dish,” Saani noted,

“Of course,” he smiled and headed off leaving Ansosn and Saani to chat, of course wood fire would also be the only method of cooking based on the little Ari had revealed about her home.

She stood over a large new metal cooking pot above the unlit kindling and logs which Saani must’ve bought for the occasion beside a little table where she had a startling array of vegetables, fruits and meats, white, red, even grey, all chopped up into rough cubes.

Ari picked up a pack of glucose crystals, sniffed it, then promptly dumped the whole thing in the pot, followed by everything else she had prepared plopping as it hit the water.

“Everything going well,”

“Yes…just working out how to get the flavour right…all the foods here are so strange…” she picked up a whole canister of a mustard paste, again sniffed it and poured it all in.

“I don’t like that I can’t meet the animals or look at the plants the food is from…” she said bluntly inspecting the kindling,

“Well perhaps we can visit the agricultural districts another day and you can have a look,”

She shook her head,

“No Saani will be busy with what Anson has to tell you,”

He hadn’t even mentioned he was here yet…and even he didn’t know what Anson had to tell them yet…still now was a good a time as any,

“Make sure to remember Ari, no delving without asking…”

She nodded,

“I Know…”

“Alright, now here is the lighter,” he reached over to hand it to her,

“The what?”

“Lighter to start the fire,”

She crooked her neck as she often did when they told her something that confused her,

“Why do you need that?”

She flicked a quick glance to the kindling as he felt the force around it ripple…the kindling made of baking papers began to vibrate at what he could only imagine was the molecular level as the heat rose to the point it combusted, the white then yellow flash of a spark briefly fixing in his unprepared eyes.

It was followed more unusually by a churning on the pot itself as she used the force to mix all the ingredients together and cycle them through the pot to evenly cook,

“Do you always lit fires and cook like that,” he probed

She shrugged, “Doesn’t everybody?”
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Anson was a human…she wasn’t human Kazic had told her…they didn’t seem to have a label for her People…and she’d never thought about it…there were People and Others…it was much more complicated here.

He was called an Arbiter…which was some kind of rank like a Guardian…but even that was confusing…they all seemed to need strange titles on their normal names to tell who was who…it must be because they kept themselves so closed off…at home it was obvious who was wisest who was strongest who was kindest, everyone could feel it off of them from across the valley.

“Well this looks…delicious…” Saani said as Ari served her first as was proper

“It’s not the same as at home…you don’t have Gormin’s,”

“Gormin?” Anson queried,

“oh…I looked at the catalogue of species…it’s like a small Barneffa,” she explained plopping more on Saani’s plate…she needed to have the most after all,

“Bantha,” Kazic corrected for Anson, they all spoke funny and different, Sociolinguists she had read about said it derived from regional variation and the non-standard capacity of different humanoids vocal cords to replicate sounds, it was very interesting…but seemed - like so much here - so confusing.

She went around serving the others in turn, Anson as the guest, then her own plate then Kazic

Ansosn looked down at the chucky pile of steaming stew, its aroma very strong…well here goes,

He took a chunk on his fork, blew a little then ate it…his mouth exploded in flavours…sweet, sour, fatty and bitter…It tasted like she had dumped a Rodian spice merchants entire wares into her pot, and the Rodian with it.

He cast a quick glance to Kazic who seemed to not overtly mind its strength, Saani fared less well copiously sipping at the water, the girl Aresaea herself demolished the food before her as though she might never eat again…although given her experience he could appreciate that.

Still she was an oddity... how could a child survive so long on such a hostile world...where were the others of her kind...Kazic had said they were pre-spaceflight and most likely were all dead of enslaved...yet if a teenager could get away surely a few of the adults...

She suddenly looked up at him sensing his attention on her, she gave a slight smile.  Anson reminded her of Old Andis...strong and staid on the outside but kind and generous beneath that…at any rate if Saani trusted him he must be trustworthy.

“hmmm…not very flavourful…” she mused out loud…
“The animals here have much lower protein density levels than at home…”
“I think it was rather nice…” Kazic soothed, “a dish for special occasions perhaps,” he noted Saani reaching or more water,
“Oh no we eat it all the time, its keeps really well if you add lots of salt to it,”
Anson nearly vomited at the thought of having it more than a day old.
“You don’t like it….”
“Oh…oh no it’s just quite…strong…”
“No you don’t like it,” she looked down at her empty plate then across at his barely touched one,
“That’s alright…everyone has different taste receptors!” she said cheerfully dispelling any discomfort.
“I can eat it all,” he could well imagine that…how she stayed so lithe he couldn’t fathom…her metabolism must be well beyond human standard – yet what was all that energy used for?
“So how do you like Galtea Aresaea,” he changed the subject

“mmm…its fairly nice…there are lots of strange things to learn about…but too many fake lights and people thinking”

“People thinking,”

She nodded furiously

“It’s very loud…so many Vhal Danians using the Ae…Force all over the place…”

He had to smile at the idea of being termed a Vhal Danian
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After dinner they settled about the lounges as Ari took out the carving laser…it was important every guest got a gift.

Ansosn watched on as she took two medallion sized durasteel discs with a bronze tinge and worked one of them rapidly into a carved relief of a three pointed star whose tips touched the circles edges, in the gap between the stars arms were portraits similar to the faces on the totem Kazic had shown him…the distributing this was she did this seated on a cushion on the floor with no magnifying glasses or steadying vices.

“That looks…amazing Ari,” Saani said walking past to bring Anson a cup of caf, apparently this was how her people would entertain themselves in the evening as well as signing songs and telling stories.

“It’s alright…but this is the slow way,” she flipped the medallions around in her fingers blowing off the last flecks of metal.

“The slow way?” Anson queried

“You have to know how to do it the slow the way or you don’t understand how much-pressure-to-put-on-the-metal-and-the-exact-angles-of-the-grooves-you-carve-in-to-make-the-relief-of-the-face-stand-out-and-perfect-the-angles-of-the-star.” She rapidly toddled out of her mouth

“So what is the fast way?” Kazic leaned forward interested

She took the blank medallion and looked over the carved one picking up the lines she had just made, working out where she had gotten it wrong to fix it for the real gift for Anson.

Going back to the blank one Anson sensed something he had not felt for a while…a flow of the force he knew better than most from his Master Varel’Zo…

The force hammered down on the medallion…it shifted to show a carved relief…Aresaea murmured annoyance then it turned back to blank…again the force hammered down on it…again she merrily mumbled and it went back to blank…

Finally the Force hammered it a final time…what was a flat circle of durasteel became a carved medallion in an instant as she used the force to carve it in the blink of an eye…but before realising in the real world she had used Flow-sight…a variation of flow walking…to see how it would turn out and adjust it to make it better.

His mouth dropped open

“Here you go Anson, a gift,” she proffered the force forged medallion toward him.

Kazic and Saani looked utterly stunned…but they only saw the creation…they hadn’t even sensed her using techniques to twist time, to gaze into possible futures that had taken his own Aang Ti master years to teach him….

“That…that is fast…” Saani said a slight murmur of shock in her voice.

Aresaea nodded,

“But you have to work it the normal way first or you won’t understand the metal…but it’s the only way you can mould blackstone…” she paused catching herself from saying something she wasn’t sure she should

“I hope you like it,”

He took the small medallion…it wasn’t a copy of the one she had done by hand it was an improvement upon it…every line sharper, every curve smoother for not using rough physical tools.

He could barely hold back his emotions…this was insane…a teenager who had mastered techniques that most Vhal Dan couldn’t dream of…and used them without any sense of restraint…

“It’s…ah very nice…very interesting technique,”
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She hadn’t heard what Kazic and Anson said before he left…but she felt it…

“Why doesn’t he like me?” she asked Saani,

“Anson will like you…he just doesn’t know you very well yet…remember it took you a while to get to know Kazic,”

Ari nodded, but still felt unsure…it seemed deeper than that…if only people here were more open…then he could really see what she was like…they were so closed off all the time.

“Maybe…it would just be so much better if everyone was like at home…everyone was more…honest and did what you told them Saani…then they wouldn’t argue so much…”

Saani was taken aback,

“I don’t think everyone should do what I tell them, they have their own opinions…”

“But you’re…hrmmm…you’re the….there isn’t a word for it…” she sighed

“Everyone here has titles and ranks…but at home we don’t everyone just knows…it’s just…so obvious…I don’t understand….”

Saani leapt to her side and cradled the girl against her…she could feel the pain of dislocation…taken from a deeply open and communal society and placed into one far more circumspect…she couldn’t imagine what it must be like for her.

“It’s alright Ari…I know it’s hard…but we’re here to help you…no one’s arguing about you or upset with you…we understand,”

“Not yet they’re not…” she whispered quietly.
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