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Chapter 1: The Beginning of an Ending

Rakham was beginning to feel the effects of the Agavinol as it worked it's way through his system. The Consular considered himself a connoisseur of fine spirits, but the options on tap at the seedy establishment he found himself in were anything but. He checked the time for the fifth time in as many minutes. Heditt was meant to have returned half an hour ago from his big secret Sentinel meeting. As a constant subject of scrutiny from the Jedi Council himself, Rakham could understand why the Sentinel Order preferred to discuss business away from prying eyes and wandering ears, but what he didn't grasp was why they had to meet in Mos Eisley. He hated Tattoine. He slid a credit chip across the bar to pay for his drinks and made his way outside. As he reached the door, he unconsciously brushed his fingers across the hilt of his lightsaber. He'd lost it once before, and Heditt made him swear he'd be more careful.

Stepping out into the square, he noted to himself that this was indeed one of the nicer places on Tattoine. There were no animals or speeders, and very few pedestrians. In the center of the square was a fountain that anywhere else would have been considered an eyesore, but in this setting was rather pleasant. He walked over to it and gazed at the reflection of the setting suns in the murky water before turning his attention to his own appearance. He was tall, six feet and seven inches in the measurements of his home world. His brown hair was unkempt, and he wore a rough beard. His eyes were a deep brown, and always looked sorrowful, and he had darkly tanned olive skin. He wore the traditional brown Jedi cloak, but rather than robes he had acquired a set of armor in the same pattern as a Clone Trooper's, and it was painted blue and yellow, but weathered and beaten from rough use. He cut a sharp contrast to his brother Heditt, who was also tall, but not excessively so, and kept a clean hairstyle, shaved face and had green eyes set into pale skin. The Sentinel brother also preferred a black uniform, and carried a blaster pistol and multiple other gadgets alongside his lightsaber.

Rakham felt Heditt's presence before he saw him. The Sentinel was a true Jedi, and carried himself up the street with a calm, humble stride. The lightsaber hilt at his side was a mirror of Rakham's, with Rahkam's being silver with black inlays, and Heditt's black with silver. The presence of the Sentinel alone was often enough enough to calm those around him, and the few pedestrians milling about broke into contented smiles as he approached. Rakham felt the pull of his brother'a aura as well, but it never had the same effect on him.

"Heditt. How did the secret Jedi spy club meeting go? Are your people still on about some great conspiracy to end the Jedi Order?" Rakham teased.

"No one thinks that there's a conspiracy to end the Order, brother, but you've felt the disturbances too. Something is going to happen." Heditt replied as calmly as ever.

"We're in the middle of a galactic war. Thousands die every day. It would be stranger if there weren't disturbances in the Force." Rakham turned back to fountain. They both knew he was being dishonest with himself, what so many Jedi had been feeling was far more than the average wartime rumblings of the Force. Something big was coming. There was a moment of silence, before Rakham turned back with a grin and began walking off.
"But hey, I'm not criticizing. My job is to heal the sick and drink agavinol, yours is to be paranoid, and you guys are doing great. Now let's get back to the shuttle and off this rock."

As the pair worked their way back to the spaceport, they were uncharacteristically silent. Both of the brothers were mulling over the meaning of the visions and disturbances they'd felt over the past few weeks. As they approached their shuttle, the engines were already on and the pilot was on the ramp, pacing anxiously.

"Did you call ahead?" Rakham asked.
"No..." his brother trailed off as the pilot, a short, ornery man who neither brother cared for noticed them.
"Blast, would you two hurry? Haven't you heard?" The pilot nearly shouted at them.
"Heard what?" Heditt replied.
"There's a battle! The damn Confederation is invading Coruscant!"

...

By the time the brothers got to Coruscant, the battle was over. Several droid transports had crash landed on the surface, and the two were immediately sent to one of the sites to ensure that it wasn't a threat to any civilians, and help anyone who may have harmed by the crash. The shuttle never even landed, as it neared the ground, the pair had already lowered the ramp and kept out, lightsabers in hand. As soon as they hit the ground, they could hear blaster fire and smell smoke. They were on a wide but abandoned street, and the sound seemed to be coming from around the corner. They ran in that direction, lightsabers flashing to life almost in unison, but they nearly stumbled over themselves at what they saw as they rounded the corner. There were indeed a group of B1 battle droids around the wreckage of a landing craft, and taking cover behind a hunk of burning wreckage fighting them was... a B1 battle droid. The lone droid appeared to be badly damaged but still combat effective, considering the way it mowed down it's brethren as the brothers watched. Heditt moved as though he intended to dispatch the droid, but Rakham stopped him. Deactivating his lightsaber, Rakham began walking slowly towards it.

"Rak, what are you-" Heditt's words finally caught the droid's attention, and it turned to them quickly, apparently too quickly, as it's mangled right leg couldn't take the stress and sent it clattering to the ground, it's weapon skidding away. It made little attempt to right itself, instead turning it's head mournfully to stare at the Jedi.

"Je-di..." It's voice was deepened to a croak by some unknowable damage, and it spoke haltingly.
"Why did you kill the other droids?" Rakham asked it.
"Ordered to kill citizens. Programming damaged. Did not want to kill."
"Hear that, Heditt? A Battle Droid that doesn't want to kill. I think I want to keep it."
"It's not a little fuzzy animal you can feed from a bottle, Rakham."
"Perhaps it will be after I reprogram it. What do you think, buddy?" Rakham said, turning his attention back to the droid.
"Serve... Je-di? Keep... peace? These... are acceptable... para-para-para-parameters."
"It'a settled, then. Let'a double check this wreckage, then call for a cleanup team."

With that, the pair temporarily deactivated the droid and went to work. It seemed like they visited a dozen such crash sites over the next few hours, but they remained in high spirits; Count Dooku was dead, and very, very soon, the war would be over and the galaxy would find peace once again.

CHAPTER END
Thanks for reading! I know it was kind of a slow start, but big things are coming! There will be purges, duels, Mandalorians, Zabraks, bounty hunters, a time jump and much, much more, so stay tuned!

Chapter 2: Rakham Continues a Long Tradition of Skirting Expulsion from the Order

“I’ve heard that you and your brother are the very best for these sorts of things, even if your methods are sometimes… unorthodox.” The Twi’lek Jedi Master said to Heditt, as the two of them approached the brothers’ Coruscant residence. It wasn’t as much a house as it was a warehouse, but it was perfect for their needs.
“Of course, Master Dala. We always get our man, no matter…” Heditt trailed off and grimaced as he heard the muffled sound of training blasters and hum of a lightsaber. Rakham was training. With a sigh, he pushed open the door and evaluated the damage.

The warehouse itself had a rather pleasant open floor plan Along one wall, beds and dressers, with a simple kitchen and dining area near to it. Along the opposite wall was the workshop, a jumble of toolboxes, machinery and parts from droids, speeders and who knows what else. This was all well and good. However, the most obvious thing when you opened the door, after the acrid smell of blaster smoke and a hint of the part spicy, part funky scent of agavinol was the giant Jedi Knight in the middle of the room, surrounded by training droids, with a red blindfold tied around his eyes and wearing nothing else but a pair of baggy pants. Rakham was currently taking fire from five different angles, and using his bright green lightsaber to expertly deflect, or more appropriately, absorb, all of it. He swayed back and forth, and his movements were wide and swinging. At any moment it looked like he could stumble and collapse into a heap on the floor, but Heditt knew better. This was his brother’s fighting style; lure his opponents into thinking that he was out of control, and counter that misunderstanding with control that was absolute and unyielding. To the untrained eye, he looked like any violent drunkard. Heditt noted the bottle on the floor that appeared to have been bisected by an errant swing of the lightsaber. Perhaps being violent and drunk helped him sell that impression.

Before either of the intruding Jedi could say anything, there was a flurry of movement from the workshop, and the Battle Droid Rakham had recovered the day of the invasion sprung out of the mess, scattering parts across the floor and raising a ludicrously large blaster that appeared to be a custom stripped down and bored up DC-15. Rakham had done significant work on the droid, it was now completely repaired, reprogrammed and customized. Gone was the tan Confederacy paintjob, replaced by Rakham’s preferred blue and yellow, and in multiple places damage had been covered with chrome plates riveted to the droid’s body and head, providing a complement to the chrome parts and fittings in all of the droid’s moving parts.

“Master Rakham, there is an intruder holding Master Heditt hostage! Requesting permission to open fire immediately!” In Rakham’s idea of a hilarious joke, the droid spoke in a sultry, seductive female voice.
“Denied, Elltoo.” Rakham said, never missing a beat. “Stand down.” The second order was to the training droids.
“I…” Master Dala was lost for words at the spectacle. It was a rare thing to see a Jedi Master so taken aback.
“I assure you, Master, L2-A1 would not have fired on you without my express permission. Rakham said, reaching for a nearby towel. It was not particularly reassuring.

…

After Rakham got dressed and Heditt apologized profusely for the spectacle, the three around the brother’s table and got down to the purpose of Master Dala’s visit.
“It’s my old apprentice, Teldryn. He was leading a Clone Battlegroup in the Moro system when they were attacked by Seperatists. The last time I spoke to Teldryn, he told me he was the only survivor of the battle, and I could sense that he was disturbed deeply. He said he would return to the Temple, but that was weeks ago and no one has heard from him. I fear that he may have fallen into despair and lost his way.” The master’s sorrow at the thought of losing her old apprentice and friend to the dark side was almost physical, and the brothers had no trouble sensing it. Rakham was the first to speak, in a soft tone.
“The Jedi were not made for war, Master. This is not the first time something like this has happened. My brother and I will get Teldryn back safely, you have our word.”
“We need to know his exact location the last time anyone contacted him, and we’ll begin our search.” Heditt added.
“Of course, everything you need to know is on this holocron. Just bring him back.”
“We will, Master. Elltoo, I need you to analyze the information on this holocron and gather my equipment. I’ll accompany the Master back to her shuttle.” Rakham said, rising to his feet. “Heditt, arrange for transport. I want to be off world in the next four hours.”

“I have a question for you.” Dala said as she and Rakham made their way down the crowded street towards her shuttle.
“Of course, Master.”
“What’s the story with that droid? B1s aren’t smart enough to analyze a loaf of bread, but that wasn’t your average B1, was it?”
“No, I’m afraid she isn’t. Heditt and I found Elltoo on the day of the invasion, badly damaged and confused into fighting her own allies. I took a shine to her, and dragged her back. I rebuilt her completely. To be truthful, the only B1 part left is the shell. Everything inside is custom. There are still some kinks in the programming, but I’ll get it worked out.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Oh, I can’t take credit, I learned everything I know about tech from my brother.” There was a long pause.
“Do you really think you can get Teldryn back?”
“I’m sure of it.”

…

Rakham walked back into the warehouse with a plain clay pipe clenched in his teeth and satisfied look on his face.
“Stop it.” Heditt reprimanded him.
“What? I’m not doing anything.” Rakham’s grin grew wider.
“She’s a Jedi Master, Rakham.”
“And I have the utmost respect for her.”
“Maybe a little too much respect.”
“Too much respect? Impossible.”
“Master Rakham, I am detecting increased blood flow-”
“Finish that sentence and you’ll find out what happened to L1, Eltoo. Come on guys, are we ready to leave yet?” Rakham said with an exaggerated sigh. His proclivities were well known to Heditt, and he knew it was a waste of time to pretend otherwise.
“Your bags are packed and ready to be loaded, Master Rackham.”
“The shuttle will be here to pick us up in fifteen minutes.”
“Master Rakham, why do Twi’lek females excite you so?”
“Shut up, Elltoo.”

END CHAPTER

Chapter 3: Adventures in Redemption

Rakham slept poorly on the ride to the Moro system. His rest was plagued with visions that were obscured to his perception, the details hovering at the edge of his vision, and scattering when he tried to focus on them. He felt grief, destruction and pain in the vision, but their cause eluded him. The Force was warning him, that he was sure of.
“Master Rakham.” L2-A1’s voice brought him awake with a start. “We are coming out of hyperspeed. It’s time to prepare for landing.”
“Thank you, Eltoo.” Rakham replied with a yawn, reaching for his lightsaber. He sat on the edge of the bunk holding the hilt in his hands for what felt like hours, but couldn’t have even been a minute. He was familiar with fear, but the dread that he felt in the Force now was something he had never experienced. The lightsaber felt both insignificant against this phantom threat, and like it was the only thing that would see him through it alive. He wondered briefly if Heditt was feeling the same, reaching out through the Force to gauge his brother’s aura. It was absent, as in their standard practice, Heditt would use an old Sentinel trick to hide himself within the Force before a mission, making it impossible for another Jedi or Dark Jedi to sense his presence. Rakham didn’t need to feel it to know that it was there, though. There had been many reports of Jedi experiencing ominous but cloudy visions over the past few weeks, and he had seen the change in Heditt’s demeanor since it had started.

Before the ship broke atmosphere, the brothers met in the cockpit, with Heditt carrying his usual belt of Sentinel gadgets and his blaster, while Rakham wore his armor and cloak. L2 carried the custom DC-15 Rakham had constructed.
“Are we going to kill the Dark Jedi?” L2 asked solemnly.
“No, Eltoo. We don’t even know for sure that Teldryn has fallen to the Dark Side. We’re here to find out what happened and bring him home safely. You’re here for moral support, and in case we run into Seperatists.” Rakham said as the starship began entry into the planet’s atmosphere. It was unlikely that they’d see anyone here. There were no ships or radio signals on the scanner, apart from the dead Republic cruiser on the surface below. This system was entirely uninhabited and mostly uncharted, the Republic forces had reportedly been scouting the area for resources when the Seperatists fell upon them. It was unknown why the Seperatists were there or what they’d wanted in the system, especially considering that they were now nowhere to be found.
Looking out the window, Rakham was stuck by the natural beauty of this world. There were vast rivers of water so clear that it seemed to glitter like ribbons of diamond, and the leaves on the trees were as blue as sapphire. On the horizon stood a row of peaks taller than any mountains Rakham had ever seen, their icy caps so high that they seemed to cut into the stars. Everything was washed in a brilliantly clear white light from the system’s star.
“This place…” Heditt trailed off. From where the brothers stood, it was impossible to imagine anything bad happening here. “Pilot, what is this planet called?”
“MB-3079178.” The Sullustan said in a dry tone, never looking up from his controls. “We’re approaching the coordinates you gave me.”

As they passed over a high ridgeline, the beauty was replaced with horror. In a clearing barely large enough to hold it sat a small Republic cruiser, and radiating outwards, away from the sheer ridge, were the scars of battle. Before them were the charred remains of a forest that had been set alight by ordnance, pocked with the craters of bombs and artillery and gouged by crashed starfighters. It seemed like there were enough destroyed droids on the ground to fill an ocean, with chunks of battle droid corpses scattered across the scarred ground, peppered by the split open husks of AAT battle tanks and mangled Vulture droids. If one looked closely, the remains of three ARC-170s and the wreckage of a gunship were among the wreckage. As the pilot lowered their shuttle into the relatively clear ring closest to the cruiser, one could tell that it was sitting at a severe list, the landing struts blown out from under it by the Seperatists.
“Where are the Clones?” Eltoo asked suddenly. Sure enough, white armored corpses were conspicuously absent from the carnage.
“That’s a good question.” Heditt replied. With a gentle thud, the shuttle hit the ground and the ramp lowered.

The three stepped out into the clearing. The Republic battle line was clear; there was a nearly perfect perimeter of hastily erected fortifications set up thirty five feet out from the cruiser, and within it, there were no droid corpses and far less damage than the outside. The grass here still seemed fresh and healthy.
“They held the line.” Rakham said to no one in particular. Heditt pointed to a lowered ramp that led to the hangar.
“Shall we investigate?”
Rakham could feel darkness inside the ship, concentrated in the hangar. Unfortunately, that meant it was where they needed to start. He started walking towards, with Heditt and L2 in tow.
At the top of the ramp, the smell of death hit them. They had a feeling that they’d found the clones. The hangar was black, it appeared that power had been cut. Rakham created a ball of light from the Force, and Heditt pulled a torch light from his belt. Eltoo’s eyes took on a red glow, indicating that she was activating low light mode. Apprehensively, the trio began climbing the ramp.
At the top, as the light began to fill the hangar, they found the clones. They had been carefully, respectfully laid to rest here. There were rows and rows of white armor, most of it muddy, bloody and burned. Even those with dismemberments had been laid here whole. Someone had cared very deeply about this. The smell was almost too much for the Jedi to bear.
“Eltoo, how many troopers were in Teldryn’s battlegroup?”
“947, Master Heditt. There are…” Eltoo trailed off as she scanned the room. “946 here.”
“So only one clone survived? Two men did all of this?” Rakham asked, stunned.
“Apologies, I seem to have miscalculated. The 947th member of the battlegroup was Jedi Teldryn. Not a clone. He must have moved the bodies here himself.”

Before anyone could say enough, there was loud click, and a voice came over the intercom, almost deafeningly loud.
“Why are you violating the sanctity of this tomb? Leave. Now.” The voice was flat, emotionless.
“Can you hear us?” Rakham called out into the darkness.
“Yes.”
“Are you Teldryn Oros? Master Dala sent us, she’s worried about you.” Heditt called out.
“Oros is dead.” The voice was not angry, or afraid, or relieved. It was as though a particularly simple droid were on the other end, simply rattling off a number.
“Who are you, then?” L2 added her voice to the discourse.
“I’m dead too.” There was another click, and the intercom was silent.
“Hello? Are you still there?” Rakham asked, already knowing that he wouldn’t be. He looked to his companions.
“The bridge?”
“The bridge.” They answered nearly in unison.

As the four made their way through the cruiser, they found that the entire ship seemed to be running on auxiliary power. The few lights that were on were dim red emergency lights. There were no signs of struggle anywhere on the inside, and they had no trouble making their way through the bowels of the ship and to the bridge. As they approached the bridge, Rakham motioned for the other two to hold back. He walked down the final corridor alone, until he reached the door to the bridge. It opened with a hiss, revealing the expansive control room. Through the front viewports, one could see the mountains in the distance, and due to the list of the ship, no hint of the carnage below was visible.
“It’s a good place to die, isn’t it?” The cold voice spoke, coming from the captain’s chair. Rakham could not see him around the large chair. He approached slowly, hands clasped in front of him peacefully, and stopped beside the chair, never taking his eyes off the mountains.
“It’s a beautiful place, but I’d wager it’s better for the living than the dying.” He said, examing Teldryn’s energy. He felt darkness, and pain. “Did you move the clone troopers?”
“They didn’t deserve to be left out with the scrap.”
“No, I imagine they didn’t.” Rakham looked at Teldryn for the first time. He was a human, with light hair and blue eyes. His features would have been largely unremarkable, were it not for his emaciated and scarred state. Rakham suspected that he hadn’t eaten since the battle, and there were at least two blaster scars on his person, one on his left side, and one grazing his cheek. “Neither do you. My droid is equipped with medical subroutines, we could have you patched up and back on Coruscant in a day, you know.”
“No.”
“Why not? Your master misses you, Teldryn.”
“I already told you. Oros is dead. He died out there.” Teldryn’s voice was still toneless, but his energy bristled and he subtly touched the lightsaber at his side.
“If Teldryn Oros is dead, then who are you, wearing his clothes, carrying his lightsaber and speaking with his voice?” Rakham asked softly.
“I want you to leave.” The lightsaber was in his hand now, but Rakham made no move to draw his own.
“I won’t go without you, brother.”

There was the electric scream of a lightsaber activation.

With stunning swiftness for one in such a state, Teldryn sprang to his feet and swung the blue saber at Rakham’s head. Rakham deftly ducked adnd sidestepped, still not drawing his own saber. The door to the bridge hissed open, and Heditt rushed through it, saber ready. Eltoo was close behind, but Rakham help up a hand, motioning them to stop. Heditt deactivated his saber, but Eltoo refused to lower her blaster.

“Leave.” The voice was low, but the aura screamed. The power of the Dark Side surged through Teldryn’s body, keeping him on his feet and furious. He lunged again at Rakham, and this time, the Consular’s green blade caught the blue one, sweeping it aside in an attempt to disarm Teldryn.
“I already told you, I can’t do that without Teldryn Oros. I know that things seem to be at their darkest right now, and from the look of it they are, but that doesn’t mean that there’s no more light. There are still people who love you, they want to see you come home safely.” Rakham deactivated his lightsaber, switching it to his left hand and holding out his right to Teldryn. “Come back with us. Let us help you.”
“You can’t.” Teldryn said, visibly steeling himself for another attack.
“I’ve done crazier things.”

Teldryn charged, swinging wildly. Rakham sidestepped, dropping his own saber and taking hold of Teldryn’s saber arm with one hand and pressing the palm of the other against his forehead. Summoning all of his power in the Force, he poured his own inner peace and balance into Teldryn’s aura, absorbing as much of his darkness as he could. Teldryn went limp in his arms, and Rakham nearly collapsed, lowering to his knees and cradling the young Jedi Knight, utterly drained of energy. He closed his eyes for a moment and a half, before looking down at Teldryn. Tears streamed down his dirty, scarred face, and when he spoke this time, his voice cracked with anguish.
“I want to go home.”
“We’re going to get you there, brother. I promise.” As Rakham said the words, he suddenly knew he was lying. Teldryn Oros’ life force was fading rapidly, too rapidly, as he succumbed to his wounds and his starvation.
“Thank you.”

These were the last words of Teldryn Oros.

“Are you okay, Rak?” Heditt said from behind them.
“I’m okay.”

Teldryn’s body was taken back to the shuttle. As the pilot took them away from MB-3079178, Heditt worriedly examined Rakham.
“You know, stunts like that are why the council doesn’t want us around.”
“To hell with the council. If they had any idea what it meant to live in balance with the Force, we wouldn’t be out here doing things like this.” Rakham replied angrily.
“What happened wasn’t your fault. He was too far gone, his body was a puppet of the dark side, it was the only thing that kept him alive. When you brought him back into balance, you set him free. You did the right thing.” Heditt reassured him.
“I know that, but moral confidence won’t bring him back from the dead. I guess Grey Jedi tricks only work so far.”
“Masters,” Eltoo interupted, “there’s and urgent transmission from the Temple. They’re calling all of the Jedi home.”
Suddenly, the dread the brothers had been feeling for weeks washed over them anew, stronger than ever.

CHAPTER END

I've been reading through Wind Chimes, it's excellent so far! I'm a bit slower to read than I am to write for some reason, but I'm working my slow way through everyone's stuff one at a time!

Now, without further ado, the final Clone War era chapter of Brothers: A Star Wars Story. Enjoy!

...

Chapter 4: Pain, Sorrow and Blinding Rage

The interior of the shuttle had three rooms. In the front, the bridge. In the rear, the engine room. In the middle, the passenger space. Bunks along one wall, seating along the other, storage in between. Despite being a small ship, the passenger space was surprisingly roomy.

Rakham was disturbed, and deeply, but Heditt appeared to be coming apart at the seams. Heditt had never mastered balance the way Rakham had, in times like this, it showed. While Rackham sat crosslegged on one of the bunks, attempting to meditate, Heditt paced up and down, his stress washing out Rakham’s attempt to find peace. Suddenly, Rakham stood.
“Enough. Take out your lightsaber.” Rakham demanded.
“Is now really the time for drills?”
“We’re flying into an unknown threat. It’s the perfect time. Start with Shii-Cho.” While Heditt was the unsidputed master of technology, Rakham was considered one of the best duelists in the Order, and had held his own against Master Windu on many occasions. Unfortunately, he’d never been able to convince Master Windu to teach him Vaapad, his specialized version of Juyo. Windu considered Rakham to be too much of a wildcard, even though the two shared many philosophies and methods.

Heditt’s first attempt at a Shii-cho drill left much to be desired, but at a disaproving glare from Rakham, he began again, this time concentrating on the simple, methodical motions. The yellow lightsaber cut clean, efficient arcs through the air. While Shii-cho was a greatly outdated form, Rakham considered it to be the building block of all other forms, and required mastery of it from his few students.
“Makashi.” Rakham said next. Heditt was a particularly adept practicioner of Makashi, and he ran the drill flawlessly, carefully executing the rapid, subtle motions.
“Juyo.” Heditt stopped. He’d been trying to get Rakham to teach him the Ferocity Form since Rakham had mastered it himself, years before. Rakham stepped forward, drawing his own green saber. “Watch my movements.”

Rakham spoke as he slowly moved through the drill. “The concept of this form is to make your opponent feel that they are being attacked from half a dozen places, by half a dozen blades. It requires speed, fury and grace. If you aren’t fast enough, the form will leave you open, and you will be struck down as easily as a child with a stick. Now, repeat the motions.”

“We’re coming out of hyperspace.” Before Heditt could begin, the pilot spoke over the intercom. The pilot had already been notified of their urgency, and by the time the brothers reached the cockpit, they’d broken atmosphere and the temple was visible through the viewport.
“Set down on the upper landing pad.” Heditt ordered the pilot, and the two left, already making their way back to the door.
“Eltoo, weapons hot.” Rakham said, giving the droid a wink. He was trying to hide his apprehension, discomfort and fear. As the door began to open, L2 shouted over the din of the engines.
“Masters, there’s a message from the Sentinel Council! Their saying to ignore the return messa-” a flurry of blaster fire cut off her words, as clones poured out onto the landing pad. The scream of L2’s custom blaster tore across the landing pad, a rapid stream of overcharged bolts blowing holes though the clones’ armor, and then through the clones themselves. With no time to think, the brothers had drawn their lightsabers and deflected most of the incoming fire. Both of them dove down beside the doors, taking cover from the incoming fire. L2 showed no such fear, walking down the ramp and unleashing Hell from the blaster. Heditt later swore he heard the droid screaming “Get some!” over the din, but Rakham denied it. Four seconds later, it was silent.

“Masters, area clear.” Eltoo called out.
“I think that droid’s aggression inhibitor needs to be rebuilt, Rakham.” Heditt said incredulously.
“I’m more worried about why we just got attacked by clones.” He replied. “Did you sense that? They knew we were Jedi and tried to kill us.”
“Eltoo, what were you saying before they attacked us?” Heditt said as the pair made their way down the ramp. Rakham was in awe at the destruction. The clones, at least a dozen of them, were lying in a mangled heap. Eltoo’s blaster had blown scorched craters into the walls and floor around them, and the doors into the temple were torn off their rails. Turning around, he saw that their shuttle was covered in scorch marks, and the viewports had been blasted out. His heart fell at the sight of the Sullustan pilot slumped lifelessly over the controls.
“The Sentinels said that it was a trap. They said that all of the Jedi should get away from the clones and go into hiding.” Eltoo recounted.
“Let’s go.” Rakham said, coldly. He marched towards the doors of the temple, saber blazing. He stepped through the door at the ready, almost hoping for there to be a legion of clone troopers to try and strike him down. There weren’t. On the floor lay the body of a young Jedi Rakham had never seen before, her eyes gazing lifelessly at the ceiling and her body riddled with blaster wounds. In her hand was a lightsaber, and around her were the bodies of six clones. Rakham knelt and closed her eyes, and the dread inside him began to be replaced with fury. He picked up her lightsaber. It was interesting, a curved design favored by Makashi practitioners. Upon hitting the activation switch, a blue blade hissed into life, with a sound softer than most sabers. Rakham’s eyes flashed, and with the fallen Knight’s saber in his left hand, he marched through the next door, deeper into the temple. Here, he found what he was looking for. A large group of clones, standing around the bodies of half a dozen fallen knights. Rakham roared, his vision turning red as the two blades in his hand became spinning gyroscopes. The first two clones had been too close the door to ever know hit them. The first was decapitated as he turned to look at Rackham, the second had both sabers buried to the hilts in his stomach.
For the first time, Rakham had lost his balance. He was unable to think, unable to process his actions. Rather than his normal fluid, deceptive, balanced fighting form, he poured himself instinctively into Juyo, and darkness washed over him as he killed. Every one of them that fell to his blade added fuel to his burning hatred. In Rakham’s mind, it went on for days; every time he opened a door, it was the same thing; dead Jedi, laughing clones. He left none alive, and Heditt and L2 were unable to keep up, chasing him through the carnage.

Finally, Rakham came to a room that wasn’t like the others. There were clones on the floor, but no Jedi. Instead, propped up against a pillar in the middle of the room sat Master Dala. In an instant, Rakham’s fury drained away, and he just felt anguish.
“Are you okay?” He asked, kneeling at her side. She’d been hit with blaster fire, badly.
“I think I’m going to make it.” She said weakly. “Teldryn?” She asked, with hope in her eyes.
Rakham couldn’t meet her gaze as he shook his head. A solitary tear ran down his face. He felt like an animal being led into a slaughterhouse, watching his fellows die without understanding why.
“I see.” She said quietly.
“We tried.” He spoke, his voice breaking. Heditt and L2 finally caught up to them.
“Rakham, I think we need to get out of here.” Headitt said, out of breath.
“I agree, Master Rakham. I am not programmed for cowardice, but I don’t know what we can accomplish by laying down our lives here.” L2 added.
“No! You have to save the younglings!” Dala protested. “They’re hiding in the council chambers.”
“Don’t worry master, I’ll go look for them. Heditt, get Master Dala out of here, Eltoo, find us some transportation. I’ll meet you at the landing pad. Go!” Rakham said. As his companions left, he took a moment, kneeling there on the floor, to find his balance. Nothing was more sacred to him than the balance between light and dark, but it eluded him. He stood, sabers in hand, and began making his way toward the council chambers. There were few clones now, but he still saw dead Jedi at every turn. The rage was still there, but beneath the surface now. He was externally calm.

Rakham reached the council chamber with very little resistance. He started methodically checking each chamber, until eventually, he found the one. He was physically sickened. Each of the Padawans had been cut down by a lightsaber. He couldn’t stop from falling to his knees and vomiting on the floor. He stood, and rushed from the room, trying to put the images out of his mind. He didn’t notice the figure standing at the end of the hallway until he ignited his lightsaber, drawing Rakham’s attention.
“Skywalker? What the hell is going on here? Why are the clones attacking us?” Rakham asked in bewilderment. Skywalker did not answer, but began marching towards Rakham with sinister purpose. “You? You did this? YOU?!” Rakham screamed, the rage returning to the surface. He ignited the two sabers and marched down the hallway to meet Anakin Skywalker.

On the landing pad, Heditt and Dala waited for L2 to bring the shuttle she’d found on the lower level. She’d radioed ahead, letting them know that she was on the way, and sure enough, a shuttle just like the one that had brought them set down before them. L2 was waiting at the top of the ramp, covered in blood and without her rifle.
“Come on, Masters! Where is Master Rakham?”
“He isn’t back yet.” Heditt replied.
“I’ll go get him.” The droid replied matter-of-factly, marching down the ramp and stooping to pick up a clone blaster when she reached the bodies from earlier.

Minutes passed. Heditt punched a set of coordinates into the shuttle’s nav system and prepared for take off. More time passed. Heditt tried reaching out in the Force to contact his brother, but the disturbance was too great. Finally, Dala, who was positioned to see out of the doorway, shouted weakly.
“They’re here!”
Eltoo was carrying Rakham over her shoulder. Rakham was missing his left leg from the thigh down, and his right one from the knee. Behind them was a Padawan, no more than fifteen years old. Eltoo’s face was scarred by a lightsaber strike, and the arm not holding Rakham was missing entirely. They dashed for the shuttle as fast as L2’s robotic legs would take them, and behind them, Heditt felt a dark presence drawing closer. He ran out of the shuttle to help L2 with Rakham, taking half of the massive Jedi’s weight.

As the shuttle door closed, a hooded figure with a blue saber walked out onto the pad and watched the fleeing shuttle.The throttles were maxed out, and it was only and instant before the shuttle was in space.
“Go to Corellia. The Redholm spaceport.” Dala said, lowering herself into the copilot’s seat. “I have a connection there outside of the Jedi who can help with our wounds and find us new identities.”

A week later, Dala and Rakham were in bacta tanks on a smuggling ship disguised as an enormous scrap freighter. Heditt and the Padawan they’d rescued from the temple, a human boy named Adkai, were living on the ship as well. Heditt had promised to train him when things settled down. L2 never left Rakham’s bacta tank, and refused to let anyone but him repair the damage she’d sustained. None of them knew what the future held, and they had little hope that it would be bright.

CHAPTER END

A bit late, but hey, they say better late than never, and I wrote this about six times, each version starting a different arc before settling on this one. Hope you guys enjoy!

Chapter 4: Luminous Beings

TEN YEARS LATER

L2-A1 could not be recognized as she knelt on the floor in front of Rakham, tinkering on his left prosthetic. Gone was the B1 chassis, replaced by a body Rakham had constructed during their long months hiding out in space on the scrap freighter. Her profile was now much more humanoid, with the bulkier limbs serving multiple purposes, allowing for stronger armor plating, upgraded silent running servos, and perhaps most importantly, allowing Eltoo to wear human clothes as a disguise. Gone was the snout shaped head, replaced by a carefully molded chrome face. The clunky three fingered hands were replaced by six long, slender digits that allowed for more fine control. However, as different as the outside was, her programming remained untouched, including, of course, the faulty aggression inhibitor that Rakham hadn’t had the heart to change.
“Wiggle your toes, Master Rakham.” Eltoo said. Rakham complied, noting the squeaking sound he’d noticed coming from the robotic limb was gone and all five of the digits were moving properly.
“I think that’s got it, Eltoo. Thanks.” Rakham replied, rolling his trouser leg back down and replacing his boot. “Anything you need patched up?”
“No sir, all systems are performing optimally.” The droid said, standing and pulling a dark cloak over her metal frame. “We’ll be making planetfall in ten minutes.”
Rakham nodded in acknowledgement and pulled a clay pipe and leather pouch of sweet smelling brown herb from his pocket. He packed the pipe, but before he lit it, he took a look around the common room he was sitting in. It was small, but to Rackham, the dingy seats, stained floor and cluttered corners were as welcoming a sight as any he’d ever seen. This ship had been his home for almost a decade now. The Fugitive, they called her, but on paper the ship had no name, merely a registration number. He let his mind drift into memory as his head was wreathed in smoke.
When he’d come out of the bacta tank after the Purge, there had been nothing but confusion, fear and pain. The four of them seemed to be alone in a galaxy full of enemies, so they’d spend an entire year hiding with the crew of the scrap freighter. Rakham was sure that the the only thing that had kept him, his brother and Dala from coming apart was the boy, Adkai, or, as they had taken to calling him, Addy. All three poured themselves into his training. Rakham taught him swordsmanship, and showed him the path of balance, Dala taught him to use the Force as well as any Jedi Master, and Heditt taught him the Sentinel arts, from espionage to slicing to exerting one’s will through the Force. Of course, by the time they’d gotten to that point, years had passed, and instead of hiding out on someone else’s ship, they’d acquired their own, a beat up old spice freighter made on Corellia. They started running supplies to Outer Rim colonies, making a name for themselves as people who could navigate anywhere, and complete any contract. Of course, no one else knew that it was the Force guiding their path. Before too long, a system had been set up by Heditt and the last of the Sentinels. There were still many Jedi hiding out on hard to reach planets, and the Fugitive made regular runs to deliver supplies to many of them. Life was good, and as some semblance of peace returned to their lives, a love blossomed between Rakham and Dala. On the fifth year after the Purge, Rakham and Dala were married aboard the Fugitive, in the very room where Rakham now sat. Addy had grown into a fine man and talented Jedi, the heat from the Empire had mostly died down, and for the next five years, all four were happy to lead a simple existence. The cargo business did not make them rich, but it it didn’t leave them hungry, and other than a handful of close calls, life was as good as one could hope for given the situation.
Rakham’s reverie was broken when Dala walked into the room and dropped onto to the seat beside him. “Did Eltoo tell you that we’re landing soon?”
“She did.” He replied, laying his head on her shoulder and resting his eyes. “Do we have to go deal with the Hutts? I hate dealing with the Hutts.”
“The alternative would be poverty and starvation, love.” Dala replied in her smooth, sophisticated accent that Rakham so loved. He groaned and stood up, stretching his arms and back.
“Well, can’t have that. I’m gonna go make sure that Heditt and Addy don’t crash the ship.”
…
As the five of them walked down the loading ramp into the Mos Eisley heat, Heditt was on edge. He didn’t know if any of the others felt it, and he didn’t want to mention it until he was sure, but as they made their way through the dusty streets, he became almost certain they were being followed, but the presence he felt wasn’t threatening, merely… hopeful.
“Someone’s following us.” He said, just loud enough to be heard by his comrades.
“I feel it too. Wish I had my lightsaber.” Rakham replied. They had all stopped carrying the ancient weapons in public, for fear of drawing attention. Now, an assortment of blaster pistols were their only defense. L2 had leaned very happily into that situation, carrying an overbored DL-44 on each hip and a sawn off DLT-19 under her cloak.
“Shall we go hunting, Master Rakham?” L2 asked, a tone of hopefulness in her metallic voice.
“Yeah, let’s. Follow my lead. The rest of you keep going, we’ll catch up.” With that, Rakham ducked away, taking apparent interest in a street vendor’s wares. The stand was run by a Jawa, who sold an assortment of jewelry made from desert glass. A necklace caught Rakham’s eye, and he casually negotiated the price as L2 scanned the crowd of people for their tail.
“Found him. He’s watching us.” She said quietly.
“You remember the Coruscant maneuver?”
“Oh, I remember, Master.” L2 replied evilly. Rakham was certain that were she capable, the droid would have been grinning from ear to ear under the sand colored wrap around her head.
“Let’s go, then.” He said, walking calmly and slowly into an alley. As he’d hoped, the quiet alley made a cross shape between four buildings, and they ducked down the left path. Rakham stopped a few feet down the alley, leaning back against the wall. L2 was nowhere to be seen.
…

Tasrii Kepressa looked at her reflection in the dusty glass window of her room overlooking the Mos Eisley spaceport. Bright red skin framed her blue eyes, with traditional black Zabrak tattoos covering most of her head and neck. The sight of her horns, cruelly ground down to flat nubs, brought a flash of pain despite the age of the wounds. Somewhat angrily, she picked up her helmet and set it down over her head, locking it into her armor. Now, the only thing in the reflection was a suit of red Mandalorian armor, badly scarred and roughly patched, but it wasn’t the reflection Tasrii was watching now. The cargo freighter TI-1023958 had just landed, and coming down the ramp to speak with port security were the people she’d been searching for. Two Human men, a Twi’lek woman, and a custom battle droid. Grabbing her backpack and a battered A280 blaster rifle, she hurried downstairs to follow them.
Tasrii was certain that, if these people were who she hoped, they’d know that she was following them. Her guess was that they would eventually split up, and that might give her an opportunity. Sure enough, two of them peeled off, Rakham Crescentfall and, if she wasn’t mistaken, the droid L2-A1, though the latter was covered head to toe by a cloak and headwrap. The stopped for a few minutes to do business with a peddler, and continued into an alley nearby. Without a moment’s hesitation, she took off after them, following in their tracks until, rounding a corner suddenly, the giant man stood before her like a wall, arms crossed, a pipe clenched in his teeth.
“Hello there!” He said, and Tasrii suddenly knew she’d fallen into a trap. She dropped her rifle and tried to put her hands up, but before she could there was a heavy Thump! behind her, and a steel hand forced her to her knees as a muzzle pressed against the back of her neck.
“Point your arms straight out the to sides and don’t move them unless you want me to redecorate these walls with whatever mush you have inside that suit.” A surprisingly gentle (in tone, at least) feminine voice said. She complied readily. She tried to speak, but the muzzle pressed hard into her neck when she did.
“Scan complete, Master Rakham. Subject is Zabrak, female, 18-21 standard years of age. Armor weapon systems inoperable, no other weapons on person. I suggest summary execution as a course of action.” L2 said, snatching upwards on Tasrii at the end for emphasis.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Eltoo. First, I want to know why our guest here was following us. There’s no bounty on any of us, we run perfectly legitimate freight and have yet to make any enemies, so what’s the story?”
“You’re Jedi!” Tasrii spoke with a drawling accent, but the words spilled out rapidly, fearfully. “I need a teacher. My name is Tasrii Kepressa, I’ve been looking for you for years! Please believe me, I didn’t come here to fight you!”
The grin vanished from Rakham’s face. “Eltoo, pop that bucket off her head.” He said coolly, striding forward as Eltoo replied, losing her grip on the Zabrak’s shoulder. It didn’t matter, because when Rakham reached her, he placed his hand on her forehead, and when he did, Tassri’s back arched, her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide. Rakham probed her mind mercilessly until he’d found everything he was looking for.
“Alright Eltoo, leave her alone.” He said, removing his hand. Tasrii collapsed to the ground, gasping. “I’m sorry.” He said to her, offering a hand to help her up, then embracing her as a brother would a sister. “I’m so sorry.”

Thanks for the comments, guys! I've got the second part of Luminous Beings done ahead of schedule, so I figured I'd go ahead and post it. I do want apologize for any editing flaws, this computer is really, really awful and it's a pain to do anything at all on it.

Chapter 5: Luminous Beings, Part II
Heditt was just beginning to worry when L2 came picking her way up the crowded street towards them.
“Masters! Master Rakham sent me, he wanted me to tell you that he’s unharmed, but had to return to the ship with the prisoner. He wants you to “Deal with those damn Hutts” and then meet him back there. He also wanted to me to tell you that his communicator is malfunctioning, so, I believe he said, “If you somehow manage to cock this up, you’re on your own.””
“Is that all?” Addy said.
“Er, I believe he also wanted me to relay his best wishes to Mistress Dala.” The droid said bashfully.
“Did he now? Well, go ahead, tell us exactly what he said, I know you remember his words exactly.” Dala teased as they continued walking, knowing that it had likely been terribly lurid. L2 leaned forward and whispered in Dala’s ear, and it was indeed scandalous. Feigning astonishment, Dala gasped and playfully slapped L2 on the shoulder. “Why, I never heard such- I should have you spaced with the rubbish, you horrible machine!”
“I’m sorry, Mistress! You made me say it!”
Addy was clearly amused by the whole situation, but Heditt found the behavior unbecoming of Jedi. He wondered, sometimes, if Rakham and Dala even still considered themselves to be Jedi. He imagined that they did not, and while that broke his heart, he could not blame them. The Order was gone, and it likely would not return in any of their lifetimes. He resolved to speak with them about the matter later, but now wasn’t the time for reflection. They were approaching the warehouse where the Hutts were holding the cargo they intended to buy. He felt a tingle in his spine as they walked up to the door.
“Be ready.” He said.
“Master, I have a bad feeling about this.” Addy said nervously.
“Like I said, be ready.” Heditt touched the intercom beside the door, but before he could speak, it opened with a hiss. They stepped into the well lit warehouse to find it surprisingly empty. There were several scattered crates, but their cargo wasn’t here. The Hutts were nowhere to be seen.
“Masters, get down!” L2 shouted, snatching the cut down DLT19 out from under her cloak and opening fire on the crates, a rapid stream of blindingly bright, crackling bolts of energy pouring from the muzzle of the weapon. “Stormtroopers!” She added between bursts. Sure enough, white armor began to peak around the crates, tentatively returning fire. There was no cover between the Jedi and the Stormtroopers, and the door had slammed shut when L2 started firing, so they laid down prone, making themselves as small as they could. Several bolts hammered into L2, burning out harmlessly against her upgraded armor. L2 was blasting Stormtroopers almost as quickly as they appeared, but the troopers were putting up a fight. A bolt slammed into the barrel of L2’s blaster rifle, turning it into a crumpled mess. She dropped it and drew the twin DL-44s, but before she could resume her barrage, the troopers returned fire almost as one, concentrating fire on L2. A bolt manage to get through her leg armor, driving her to her knees even as she began to return fire. Of the roughly half-dozen Stormtroopers left, only one survived L2’s counterfire, his blaster having overheated. L2 dragged herself back to her feet, and began limping toward the survivor, who began attempting to fire his E-11, the trigger clicking uselessly. A deft shot from one of the DL-44s tore the blaster from his hands. He turned to run, and the next bolt hit him in the knee.
“How do you like it? Not much fun being shot in the leg, is it buddy?” L2 taunted him, kicking him in the ribs hard enough to buckle the white armor. She knelt beside him and placed the muzzle of a blaster against his helmet. “Tell me a story, buddy. Tell me the story about why you ambushed us just now.”
“We were ordered to! They said that someone gave a tip that Jedi would be meeting here!” He whined in pain.
“Who told you that? The Hutts?”
“What? No! We arrested the Hutts!”
“Eltoo!” Dala shouted raggedly. “We have to go!” Eltoo looked over her shoulder at the Jedi, and saw Dala holding Addy’s limp form as Heditt tried to get the door open. He’d been hit, more than once. Eltoo pulled the trigger and stood, getting back to the door as quickly as she could and kicking it as hard as she could with her hurt leg. It was hard enough, the door was ripped out of it’s frame. As they stepped outside, there was chaos in the street, and parked in the middle of all of it, the Fugitive.Standing at the bottom of the loading ramp, a figure in Mandalorian armor with a blaster rifle was laying down a blistering amount of fire as Rakham ran towards the door, his green and blue lightsabers in hand for the first time in years. He didn’t stop for a moment as they came out, taking Addy’s unconscious form from them and turning for back to the ship.
“We gotta go!” He shouted.
Back on the ship, L2 was hurriedly running through her combat medic protocols, trying to help Addy as Heditt and Rakham ran to the bridge and Dala and Tasrii made for the turrets. Rakham grabbed a headset and spoke as he took the copilots seat.
“Tasrii, meet my beloved wife, dear brother and loyal droid. Dala, Heditt and Eltoo, meet my new apprentice. I’ll explain that later if we survive. The deal was a setup, and at first the Imperials didn’t take the report of Jedi seriously, but now I’m afraid we’ve convinced them. I’ve got TIEs on the scanner. Tasrii, Dala, keep them off us long enough to break atmosphere and get to hyperspace.” Even as he spoke, he was punching in coordinates, the first ones he could think of.
“Did they attack the ship too?” Heditt asked.
“Yeah, they were setting up an ambush when Tasrii and I-” The ship shook violently as the shields absorbed fire from the TIE fighters. “-They were setting up an ambush when we came back.”
“Second question, who is that and why would you tell her that we were Jedi, let alone offer to take her as an apprentice? How do you know she isn’t involved with this?”
Rakham was quiet for a moment. “She was sent by Kadmaur.”
Heditt froze. “Master Kadmaur is alive?”
“Not anymore. She left him on his deathbed. He began her training, but didn’t have enough time to finish it. She has an affinity for the Force that’s rare, Heditt, and if it was Master Kadmaur’s last wish that I train this woman, then she’ll be Force-damned trained.” The cockpit was silent, except for the distant squelching sound of the blaster turrets and hum of the engines. Within moments, they had broken atmosphere.
“Punch it.” Heditt said.
“Punching.” Rakham slid the silver handles hyperdrive throttles all the way to their stops, and like that, the Fugitive was gone, hurtling through space towards the last place where Rakham had felt like he felt now. The last place he’d felt like a Jedi; they were going to MB-3079178.

Who says you can't write at work?

CHAPTER 6: Fugitives
There was a faint, almost imperceptible light flowing between Addy’s wounds and Rakham’s hands, and Dala wondered for a moment if she was seeing the light with her eyes, or sensing it through the Force. The younger man was still unconscious, and there were terrible wounds across his torso. He lay on a table in the Fugitive’s common area, as Rakham tried his best to heal them, but this was beyond his abilities.
“Eltoo!” He shouted, as Addy began to stir. The droid came rushing into the room, carrying a surgical kit from the emergency stores.
“Please give me room, Master.” She said, opening the kit and hurriedly going to work. “The wounds are within my expertise to treat, but I must act quickly.”
“Thank you, Eltoo.” Rakham said, raggedly. He wasn’t an expert healer by any means, and his attempts had drained him. He momentarily lost his balance as he backed away from the table, and Heditt reached out to steady him.
“Sit down, brother. Rest.”
Rakham nodded and complied. He found himself in the same position he’d been in just hours ago, looking around the Fugitive. Now, the air of peace and tranquility was gone. The body of a Stormtrooper lay by the door, left there after he and Tasrii had returned to the ship and triggered the Imperial trap. There were three or four others somewhere. Tasrii was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, not sure what to do, and Heditt watched L2 work. Dala would be in the cockpit, he was sure.
“Heditt, you swept the ship for trackers, right?” Rakham asked.
“Of course. We’re clean.”
“Are we forgetting anything?”
“No. The emergency stores are loaded, and everybody is either okay, or going to be. There’s only one loose end.” Heditt shot a glance at Tasrii.
“She’s not a loose end. I told you, she knew Kadmaur.”
“That doesn’t make it any less suspicious that she showed up at the same time the Imperials did. No offense.” Heditt argued.
“None taken.” Tasrii said.
“You didn’t know Kadmaur. The old man would have known if she was working with the Imperials. He wouldn’t have sent her if she was dangerous to us.” Rakham replied, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes.
“What exactly did Kadmaur say to you?” Heditt asked Tasrii.
“Heditt.” Rakham admonished.
“No, I mean it. I know that you trusted your Master, Rak, but your decision to train this woman affects all of us, and I want to hear her story.”
“Since when is my word not good enough for you?”
“He’s right, Rakham. We both trust you, completely, but this woman is a stranger, and we don’t trust her.” Dala interjected as she entered the room. “So, Tasrii, if you don’t mind, we’d like to hear your story.”
“Master Kadmaur told me to trust you, so I’ll tell you, but it’s a long story.”
“We’ve entered a stable orbit. We have time.” Dala said firmly.
“Alright.” Tasrii said, removing her helmet. “Have you ever heard of the Olta Station? Most people haven’t. It’s an old space station in orbit around a dying star deep in the Outer Rim. It’s a haven for smugglers, drug lords, thieves and slavers. The gladiatorial combat is the main attraction, you could say. Prisoners, slaves and stupid folks looking to make a name for theirselves fight to the death in the Pit, to much fanfare and celebration. I ended up in the first category. I mouthed off to the wrong bounty hunter, and he had me locked up and put in the fights. They loved Zabrak in the pit, because my people are supposed to be such great fighters, but I’d never swung a blade or fired a blaster in my whole life before that. I guess maybe it’s right what they say, though, because I took to it like a fish to water. I made it for six months in there, doing nothing but training, fighting, training and fighting. I got good, and I got famous, and eventually I got so used to it that they started letting me wander free and gave me a pretty good cut of my winnings. That didn’t end up being much of a gift, because a couple of weeks later, a crime boss who’s champion I’d killed caught up to me outside of a bar. They beat the fight out of me and dragged me off. What happened next… wasn’t good.” She paused for a moment, unconsciously touching the stumps of her ground off horns.
“I didn’t know how long they’d had me at the time, but I learned later it had been a month. I don’t know why they kept me alive, I guess just because they liked torturing me. I think I was pretty close to breaking when he finally came. Master Kadmaur. The door to me cell opened one day, but instead of the usual gangster or torturer, it was an old man. His face was lined, and his hair and beard were silver, but I remember that stride, he walked like a man in his twenties. All he said was ‘Follow me.” and he led me out of the hideout where I was being kept. He’d killed all of them it looked like. He told me he could sense the Force in me, and he talked me into letting him train me. That went on for a couple years, but his teachings were centered on discipline and control, not on using the Force. I think he was afraid I might have been too dark, and he wanted to make sure I wasn’t gonna go bad. I learned the history of the Jedi, and what really happened to the Order a decade ago. He taught me about the Sith too, and the things that they’ve done. He said that the righteous path lie in between the two extremes, but it was hardest to resist the pull of the dark, and that if you let it take you, it would own you, and you’d lose yourself. He didn’t want that to happen to me, he said. He was almost ready to move on to the next stage of my training when he got sick. I don’t know what was wrong with him, but he withered away almost before my eyes. He was the first family I’d ever had.” She stopped again. Rakham gave her an understanding look. He’d come to terms with the death of his master long ago, but it had hurt to lose the kind, wise old man, and he missed him dearly.
“It was a year ago that he died. He told me that I’d need to wait for you in Mos Eisley, and when you’d be there. I don’t know how he knew. He told me one other thing. He said that before I could be trained further, I had to come to inner peace, and I had a year to do it. He said to meditate, and that I would know what to do. So, that’s what I did, and it didn’t take long for me to know what I had to do. I went back to Olta, and I found the bounty hunter who’d forced me to fight. I fought him, and I won.” She stopped, and pointed to three grey metal patches over the red chestplate of her armour. “I took his armor, to remind of what I had overcome, and I flew to Tattoine. I did security work so I could afford to live, and I waited for you to show up. That’s all there is to tell” She finished.
“Thank you, Tasrii. Would you mind waiting here while we discuss the matter in private?” Dala said kindly. Tasrii nodded in return, and the three Jedi walked into the hallway.
“Satisfied?” Rakham asked.
“She sounds dangerous, Rak.” Heditt said.
“We’re all dangerous. If we weren’t, we’d be dead.” Dala noted.
“Fair enough. I just mean that I understand the way you feel, Rakham. She was trained by your old Master, and to you that makes her a sister, but does she consider you a brother, or a means to gain power?”
“Did I mention that I probed her mind, brother? Her intentions are not ill, and her words are true. I will train her as Kadmaur wished. I don’t ask for your help, and if you offered I would reject it, but I need you to accept my decision. Both of you.” Rakham half pleaded.
“I knew Kadmaur by reputation, and if the things they said of him were true, he was a great man. I agree that you must train her if it was his wish.” Dala said.
“Alright, fine, but there’s still the matter of exactly just how the Imps found us out.” Hedditt said, and everyone was silent. The silence was broken when L2 poked her head into the hallway.
“Thought you might want to know, Master Addy is stable, and the prisoner has refrained from eavesdropping on you.”
“See? She doesn’t even drop eaves. You two drop eaves all the time.” Rakham joked, happy for an excuse to abandon the current conversation, even if only temporarily, as he walked back to the common room to check on Addy.
“I’m still going to keep an eye on her.” Heditt muttered. Dala patted him on the shoulder before joining Rakham.
CHAPTER END

New chapter time! I'm also planning to write a "Behind the Scenes" type thing later to explain some stuff that I just can't figure out how to work into the story organically.

Chapter 7: Home
The Fugitive was sitting in a breathtaking vale on the planet MB-3079178. A creek of crystalline water filled with lazily swimming red and blue fish quietly made it’s way through rich green grass, interspersed with flowers of every color. Even in broad daylight, stars peeked through the clear atmosphere, and an enormous moon hung in the sky, serving as a backdrop for trees as high as the tallest skyscrapers, trimmed with their translucent sapphire leaves and white bark. The greyish saucer-shaped hull of the Fugitive, with it’s sooty blast marks and sharp man-made edges seemed woefully out of place amongst this natural beauty. Dala and Rakham stood alone outside the ship; the others were preparing supplies for what was likely going to be an extended stay.
“This place is beautiful.” Dala said softly. Rakham nodded, and put his arm around her.
“How did we get here, Dala? I thought everything was okay. I thought it was going to plan. I thought we were safe.” He sounded almost broken, dejected. This was the first time he’d slowed down since their narrow escape from the Imperials, and it finally caught up to him.
“The Force will guide us through, Rak. We’re safe here, I can feel it.” She responded reassuringly, rubbing her husband’s shoulder and resting her head against him. On the inside, she was just as worried as he was.
Addy was sitting on his bunk, staring at a mirror. His brown eyes and hair were bloodshot and shaggy, respectively. His long, sharp featured face was mournful. He had a swarm of feelings battling for supremacy over his heart, but he could already predict a clear winner. Anger. He was angrier than he’d ever been. He was more furious than he knew he was capable of. Without realizing it, he had picked up his lightsaber, and was gripping it so hard that the ridges around the hilt were cutting into his flesh. The pain finally snapped him out of his rage, and a sense of quiet panic replaced it. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what he could do. He didn’t know how to stop the Empire. He turned his attention to the saber, turning it over in his hands.
The hilt was silver, with three red buttons at the top end, and a simple, flat emitter. At the bottom, a series of black ridges had been added for grip, and the pommel was pointed sharply. His thumb danced over the three red buttons in a specific order, and the yellow blade hissed softly to life. The crystal was calibrated perfectly, beyond perfectly. The blade was long, and narrow. It’s hum was barely a murmur in the air. He gazed into the yellow glow for what seemed like an eternity, with one question in his mind.
What am I going to do?
“Need a hand?” Tasri asked, stepping into the emergency storeroom. Heditt was searching through crates and calling out their contents to L2, who recorded his words on a datapad.
“Sure. We need those two crates taken outside.” Heditt replied, pointing to two boxes by the door. Tasrii grabbed the top one, which was surprisingly heavy. As she walked away, she could still hear Heditt rattling of inventory.
“Twenty… No, this can’t be right. Actually, it is, twenty-five kriffing kilos of smoking herbs and fifteen liters of Agavinol. We could have had weeks of rations in this space. Weeks.” Tasrii couldn’t help but smile. She rather liked her new companions. She made her way though the ship to the ramp, careful not to bump the box against anything or shake it too hard. She found Rakham and Dala sharing what appeared to be an intimate moment, and stopped, but before a moment had passed they sensed her presence and turned to face her.
“What’s this?” Rakham asked.
“I don’t know, Heditt said to bring it out here. There’s one more.”
“Must be the seeds.” Dala noted, as Rakham took the crate and thanked his new apprentice, who promptly took off for the other box. “You know, I wasn’t sure at first, but she seems to be alright.” she added.
“Kadmaur wouldn’t have taken her in if she wasn’t. You ready for some farming?” Rakham replied, prying to top off of the crate and revealing several trowels and an impressive store of seeds.
Three and a half hours later, everyone was gathered at the far side of the clearing. Tasrii wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. They’d been planting seeds all afternoon, and it was beginning to grow dark, the great moon in the sky brightening as the sun dimmed. The patterns in which they’d planted seeds made no sense to her. There were four great circles, and within the circles, aligned with the outer edges, were smaller circles. Rakham and Dala were kneeling in the middle of the three, now, facing one another and holding hands, with their eyes closed. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“What are they doing?”
“Shh! They need concentration!” Heditt hissed. Addy tapped her shoulder, and gestured towards the ship. They both walked towards the ship, out of earshot.
“Those weren’t normal seeds we planted. They’re seeds of the koloa tree, a plant that is especially connected to the Force. Rakham and Dala can influence the growth of the seeds through great concentration, and shape the trees into structures, that way we don’t have to live on the ship while we’re here. It’ll take them hours of deep meditation.”
Tasrii nodded in response. She wasn’t sure she’d ever realized how much more there was to the practical side of the Force than lifting rocks and reading minds, and as she stared at the two Jedi kneeling across the clearing, she had a newfound respect for their power.
The next morning, the ‘construction’ was complete. Three domes of living wood had grown from the earth, with windows, doors and concentrations of leaves around the roofs that looked for all the world like green shingles from a distance. Inside, beds, seats, tables and shelves were formed in the tangle of trunks and branches. Supplemented by mattresses and small appliances from the ship’s stores, they became very inviting. By the time they were done preparing their new lodgings, night was once again creeping in.
“It isn’t perfect, but I think it’ll do.” Rakham said as they all gathered around a table in the central house, proud of their work. “We’ve got dehydrated rations that’ll last us until we can get more seeds planted and vegetables grown, and the emergency stores should have anything else we need. Medical supplies, clothing and survival gear. Speaking of clothing, Tasrii, we have robes in Addy’s size that should you fit you just fine for training. We’ll start tomorrow, at dawn.”

When Rakham awoke and went outside the next morning, he found Tasrii already waiting for him. Instead of armor, she was wearing a brown cloak and sand colored robes, just like Rakham. He rubbed his beard for a moment before speaking, taking in the cool morning air, and reflecting on how much he hated it. He wasn’t a morning person.
“Are you ready, apprentice?”
“I am.”
“Then follow me.”
Rakham led a long, winding path through the forest, letting the Force guide his steps. Eventually, after hours of walking, they found themselves at a precipice. One could see for miles from here, out across wilderness where no person had ever walked.
“I must know what Master Kadmaur taught you. Please, have a seat and clear your mind.” Rakham said, waiting a moment for Tasrii to comply. She sat crosslegged and closed her eyes.
“Did Master Kadmaur teach you the Tenets of Balance?”
“Yes.”
“Can you repeat them?”
“Through Love, I gain Empathy. Through Empathy, I gain Perspective. Through Perspective, I gain Light. In Light, I see the Will of the Force. The Will of the Force is Balance.”
“Do you understand them?”
“My responsibility is to maintain the balance of the Force. Sometimes, this means taking action when I’m afraid. Sometimes, it means doing nothing when I’m angry. Balance is when nature exists in harmony, without interference from darkness. If I attempt to suppress my own nature, I will only imbalance myself.”
“Very good. Now I need to know how well you use the Force. Hold out your hand.” Rakham said. He already had an idea of her knowledge and abilities, but he needed to see it. He dropped a stone into her open palm. “Levitate it.”
After a long moment’s straining concentration, the pebble finally lifted from her hand. She opened her eyes excitedly, breaking her concentration and causing the pebble to fall. “I did it! I actually did it!” She said excitedly. She must have meant it when she said Kadmaur had made her learn the philosophy of the Force before teaching her to use it.
“It’s a start.” Rakham said with a warm smile, and pointed to a large boulder several hundred feet away on the edge of the cliff. “Now, do it with that one.”
CHAPTER END

I'm back, ladies and gentlemen! I had an eleven hour car ride today, so, against my better judgement, I wrote a chapter on my phone. Please forgive any spelling or formatting errors that I missed!

CHAPTER 8: Ancient Weapons
Tasrii was getting very used to her new life on the beautiful planet that her companions had taken to calling Oros. It had been a month since Master Rackham had ordered her to shift the two ton boulder with her mind, and three weeks since she succeeded. A smile passed over her face, nearly hidden by the hood of her robes. It was dusk, and the sky was streaked by orange fingers of light, with dark blue and purple in between, sprinkled with bright white stars.
Tasrii sat in the clearing they'd made into their home, crosslegged on the ground with her back against a tree that seemed as tall as the sky itself. Bubbling happily along in front of her was the crystal clear creek, and in it bobbed a small cork running to the fishing pole in her hands. Rakham and Dala were spending time alone in their hut, and she could hear the distant clash of lightsabers as Heditt and Addy trained in the woods. A contented smile passed over the Zabrak's face. This was what her mentor meant when spoke of balance, beings living in peace and harmony with nature and with one another.
Tasrii's mind shifted then to her training. Each day, starting at sunrise, Rakham took her away from their home and into the wilderness, each time to a different place, but the lessons always had the same purpose; focus and composure. Today, he'd asked her to levitate a few feet off the ground and meditate for hours as he smoked and napped under a nearby tree. Occasionally, she wondered at his methods, but she trusted her mentor completely.

Yellow clashed on yellow in the waning light. Addy's blade, perfect and narrow, met Heddit's blade, shorter and wider, in a shower of sparks as they vivisected an unfortunate tree branch that had gotten between them. Despite Heditt's greater experience, he'd taught Addy well, and they were well matched opponents. Addy brought his blade down towards Heditt's right ear, and as soon as it made contact with the older Jedi's saber, he swung it around into a left handed strike for the other side. Again, he bounced off the parry, this time throwing a strike to Heditt's thigh. Before he could make it, Heditt caught his saber upon his own blade and spun it all the way around, the hilt flying free of Addy's hand. Addy raised his palms, indicating surrender. Both men were out of breath.
"Good fight, Master." Addy said, standing to attention and bowing. Heditt returned the gesture, if a bit less rigidly.
"It was indeed. The only flaw I can see in your form is that at times you allow yourself to be drawn too heavily into your attacks, and forget to defend yourself." He looked Addy up and down. He was beginning to worry about the younger Jedi. His hair was unkempt, he had cultivated a scruffy, unmanaged beard and his eyes always looked like he hadn't slept in days. It had started when they'd first come here running from the Imperials.
"Addy, are you alright? You don't look well." He finally asked. With a sigh, Addy replied.
"I've been having nightmares. About the Imperials. About Vader. About... someone else." A faint look of desperation crossed his face.
"What do you mean, 'Someone else?'"
"It's an old man. The dream always starts with his back turned, and he looks harmless, but when he turns to look at me, there's a darkness that feels real. It feels like it's going to crush me." Addy left out the part that scared him most. He wasn't ready to share it.
"It's a dark time in the galaxy, Addy. These dreams you're having are most likely just dreams. Try to put them from your mind, and if they still persist, we'll see about investigating further. Go and get some rest." Heditt clasped his apprentice' shoulder to comfort him, and gestured back towards home.

"I think I could stay right here forever." Rakham said to Dala, staring up at the intertwined branches that made up the ceiling of their Koloa hut. The light was soft and yellow, and the two lied together under a thick, fuzzy blanket, wrapped in one another's arms.
"If only we could." She replied. "How much longer do you think we can stay on Oros?"
"Until I finish Tasrii's initial training, at least. Should only be another month or two. I'm going to ask Heditt to start wiping the Fugitive's codes and replacing them with new ones tomorrow." He sighed at the thought of leaving their little paradise behind. He had noticed over the years, though, that their little group had developed a tendency to find happiness in one another's company wherever they were. It hadn't been so long ago that they couldn't wait to leave this planet and get back to business.
"What do you think we'll do next?"
"I've been meaning to talk to you and Heditt about that. I think we should start doing private investigations, the way Rakham and I did for the Jedi. We were good at it, and we could settle down for a bit. Stay in one place."
"That sounds like it could be a nice change of pace from running cargo." She replied. "We'll talk with Heditt about it tomorrow." They both purposefully left out the fact they still had no idea how the Imperials had found them on Tattooine, and before either of them could change their minds about it, they'd met in a passionate kiss.

The deer was a majestic creature. It's hide was white, dappled with dark grey spots, and it's antlers were four feet wide if they were an inch. It made it's way through the forest like a king walking through his court, stopping occasionally to sample a bit of grass or a leaf or a sip from a stream. This king of the forest had no idea that he was being followed by another creature, this one shrouded in black, as silent as the quietest mouse, and as dangerous as a Krayt Dragon.
The hunter followed the deer, knowing full well that at any moment, she could snap up her prey without challenge, but enjoying the chase too much to cut it short. This hunter did not often get the chance to enjoy a hunt. As the chase continued, the moon began to replace the sun, and the light got as dim as it ever did on this planet. Oros was as beautiful in moonlight as it was in sunlight, but the hunter was not aware of such things as the deer finally came to a halt, having sampled enough potential meals that he finally came upon one that satisfied him. As he munched the greenery of a brilliantly flowered shrub, the hunter crept into range, coming close enough to count the hairs on the deer's neck before striking. He never knew what hit him, the six-fingered hands snapped his neck so quickly. L2 sighed. This was the most humane way of collecting food for Master Tasrii, Master Dala had said, but it could be boring at times. The battle droid turned bodyguard turned hunter lifted up the body effortlessly over her shoulders. A quick check of her nav system revealed that L2 had strayed a very long way from home during her hunt. She sighed again, and began humming an old song she'd heard Rakham whistle as she turned to retrace her steps.

The next dawn, Tasrii was in her normal place at the front of the koloa huts to begin the days training, but, strangely, Rakham was nowhere to be found. She walked up to his door and awkwardly considered knocking, before hearing a thud and a faint curse from the direction of the Fugitive. She turned and noticed for the first time that the loading ramp was down.
Walking up the ramp into the cargo bay, she found Rakham standing amongst a pile of boxes and parts that she'd never seen before, with a strange machine in the middle of the floor. A lit pipe hung from his scowling lips, and he was emitting a steady stream of curses.
"Master?" Tasrii called, somewhat nervously. Upon noticing her presence, his face lit up.
"Tas! Good morning! Don't mind the language, I'm just pretty sure I broke a few of my toes when I dropped this furnace on my foot. But, today's a big day! It's time for you to begin constructing your lightsaber!" Rakham seemed legitimately excited, and Tasrii noted that he wore both of his own lightsabers today, a rare occurrence. His cheer was contagious, and also a rare thing to see so early in the morning. Tasrii bounded the rest of the way up the ramp.
"Where do we start?" She asked.
"With a boring lesson, of course." He smiled. "You should understand the the history and the technical aspects of the weapon before you try to build one, and, believe it or not, I was one of the premier lightsaber historians of the order."
He went on to explain the details of the lightsaber as a weapon. The difference between the kinds of crystals, from Khyber to Adegan to Synthetic, the ancient tradition of color correlation with the different types of Jedi, the origins of the weapon as a ceremonial tool before compact power packs became commonplace, and the different designs and fighting styles that had been used throughout history. The sun was well in the sky before they'd finished, and, surprisingly, Tasrii was a rapt student. Finally, the lesson was finished.
"Now, finally, the fun part." Rakham gestured at the machines and boxes piled around. "Building your saber. To start with, you need to go through these schematics." He handed her a datapad. "I have several dozen different designs there, modern and ancient, and you should study them, and then either choose one to build, modify one of them to suit your preferences, or draw a new one from scratch using what you learn from them." Next, he drew a a small wooden box from his robe and opened it. Inside, a dazzling array of crystals. He set them atop the strange machine that he'd dropped onto his foot before Tasrii arrived. "Next, you can choose a Crystal from my collection, or fabricate one yourself using this furnace. The parts to construct any hilt you can imagine are available here, and I'm going to leave you to it. If there's anything you need, I'll be meditating outside, but this is meant to be a personal experience. Good luck." And with that, Rakham swept out of the room, leaving a somewhat overwhelmed apprentice standing amongst the various parts and tools contained in the hanger.

Another several hours passed as Tasrii studied the schematics in Rakham's datapad. The designs within ranged from plain and utilitarian to almost impossibly complex, and everything in between. The concept for Rakham and Heditt's sabers was there, along with Dala's graceful, almost dainty hilt and the the imposing, brutish design of Rakham's second hilt and Addy's saber. She supposed that Rakham must have reverse engineered most of them.
Out of all the options, one in particular stood out. It reminded her of a weapon she'd used in her days as a pit fighter, calling on a design that seemed almost incomprehensibly ancient. She went to work. A quick glance at the available crystals showed that none would suffice, so, after a thorough read through the directions contained in the datapad, she began work.

It was three and a half days before Tasrii finished. The pommel was bright silver and cylindrical, and met a grip made of black metal, with vertical grooves traveling much of it's length. At the end of the grooves, a silver activation ring, which would be lifted toward the emitter, turned clockwise, and lowered back towards the pommel to activate the blade. It had a knurled thumb imprint on the left side, which, when activated, faced the front of the pommel. Above the activation ring, smooth black metal. The emitter was the strange part. It formed a plain silver cross, with each 'arm' no longer than an inch. There was one final touch. Tasrii rushed over to her armor, which she'd brought into the hold and made some adjustments to as well, and dug into one of the leather pouches. A string of red fabric, tattered and stained, but still as bright as the day it was woven. She tied it around the smooth upper part of the hilt, and, holding her breath in anticipation, slid the activation ring into it's notch.
The saber sputtered and screamed into life, a pale, almost white, blue blade that shimmered with raw energy arcing out four feet from the emitter, with four inch spikes forming a crossguard. She snapped the ring back into the off position, and hurriedly equipped her armor, minus the helmet for now. The hilt dropped perfectly and securely into the leather loop she'd added to the bandolier, and the removal of the armor's pauldron's allowed her to slip her Jedi cloak over it. Helmet under her arm, she finally walked down the ramp into the grass, blinking sun out of her eyes. Rakham was standing at the bottom, and she realized he was expecting her. There was a happily surprised look on his face, and she wondered why for a moment, before he transferred an image into her mind. It was him, a lot younger, staring into his reflection in a fountain on Tattoine. He wore a set of colorful but battered armor under a brown robe, just as she did now.
The Student follows the Master. She attempted to communicate with him using the Force.
Indeed she does. He replied. "Now, I want to see your handiwork!" He said out loud. She lifted the hilt from it's loop, where it hung squarely over her sternum, and handed it to him. He turned it over in his hands, admiring the workmanship. The design was simple, but executed tastefully and skillfully. The switch threw him, but only for a moment. The blade screamed again to life, seeming to rip and tear it's way through the air. Rakham gave it a few test swings, before handing it back, proud of his apprentice's work.
"This is one for the records, Tas." He patted her on the shoulder. "Get some rest, tomorrow, you're gonna get a chance to use it.

Rackham kept good on his promise. Normally, he would have started teaching her basic forms, but after getting used to the weightlessness of the weapon, she showed stunning proficiency in a form of her own. Her strikes were wide and brutal, and her guard was nearly impenetrable. She explained that she had mastered the fighting style during her time on Olta Station. As all of the Jedi gathered around to watch, Rakham had a hard time concealing his mirth at his student's talent. Eventually, he called a halt to their training bouts, which didn't seem to be doing either or them any good.
"Alright, no holding back this time, Tas."

Rakham fell into his preferred style now, weaving and bobbing as though drunk, throwing feints towards what seemed to be nothing, and stumbling as though off balance. There was a certain grace and a fluidity to his form.
Tasrii, on the other hand, planted her feet, and swung mercilessly. No movement was was wasted, every block rolled into an attack, every step brought her closer to her opponent. Her form was savage, and deadly. Their fight went on for what felt like hours to them. Eventually, Tasrii would throw an unblockable strike to Rakham's head, he would respond by stumbling two steps backwards before throwing himself into a forward lunge, which Tasrii would mercilessly bat away, using that momentum to swing the saber in a circle back towards Rakham's neck, begetting a duck and lightning quick uppercut from the old Consular. Tasrii sidestepped and punched her hilt forward at Rakham's kidney, stopping just short of driving the crossguard of her saber into his body. The two of them deactivated their sabers, and Rakham laughed richly as Dala and Addy applauded. Everyone from the group had gathered to watch the fight.
"You got me!" Rakham exclaimed. "You actually got me!" In response, Tasrii merely bowed, a gesture he returned.
"I want a go!" Addy shouted with a grin, drawing his hilt. Rakham made his way towards his wife and brother to watch the show.
"She's got talent!" Dala said.
"Yes indeed. I hope she isn't lying about where she got it." Heditt said, quietly.
"I wish you'd drop it, brother. Do you truly sense deception, or is paranoia getting the better of you?"
Heditt merely grunted in reply.
"If she was an Imperial agent, wouldn't she have called the Empire here by now?" Dala pointed out.
"Maybe." Heditt replied. They could both see that he wasn't satisfied, but they turned their attention to the clash in front of them. Addy was a skilled swordsman, but he was not quite as evenly matched as Rakham had been, and he was on the ropes. It was only another moment before Tasrii was standing behind him, blade to his neck.
"Well, I guess I'll give her a try as well." Dala said, drawing her blue blade. It was a short bout, and Rakham plucked Dala's hilt from the air as it sailed away.
"Heditt?" Tasrii shouted.
"Sure." He replied quietly. He walked to Tasrii, bowed, and as he straightened, activated his blade. In three seconds flat, Tasrii was on her knees, her activated saber burning a T-shape in the grass five feet away, with Heditt's lightsaber hovering over her head.
"Don't get cocky, kid."

CHAPTER END

Thanks guys! I always love your comments, but please forgive me for not replying to everyone individually, the ONLY reason I don't is because I'm sure I would inadvertently spoil something. But, without further ado, the next chapter!

CHAPTER 9: Do Droids Dream of Electric Nerfs?

   The floor Addy stood on was stone. So was the ceiling, both of them faintly washed in the yellow light of his blade. He couldn't see for more than ten feet in any direction. Behind him, he could feel the presence of the Sith Lord. Without entirely wanting to, he began placing his feet one in front of the other, every cell in his body screaming that he must escape the Dark Lord. His steps got quicker, and quicker, until he was at a dead run. The presence never felt like it was more that a few feet behind him, always ready to reach out and grab him. His breath became ragged, and he stumbled, falling to his knees. The presence behind him vanished.
   "You know you can't escape it." The cracked, dry voice spoke. As always, the old man stood before him now. Addy looked hatefully up into his eyes. They were grey, and looked for all the world like chips of stone. Long white hair framed his withered face, and a snowy beard reached nearly to his belt, obscuring his ornately embroidered grey robes. From his belt hung a long-hilted lightsaber, and he leaned on a wooden staff. "You can run for the rest of your life, son, and you'll never escape him. Not alone, at least."
   Addy felt the darkness emanating from the old figure, and tried to steel himself. "I'm not alone." He replied, attempting to sound strong, but to his own ears, the words came out sounding small and meek.
   "You are worse than alone. You surround yourself with cowardly vermin, content to spend their lives scurrying wretchedly from hiding spot to hiding spot." The old man scoffed. "You have the power to be a king, but instead, you toss and turn at night in a mud hut like some kind of savage."
   Addy was silent, but anger began to run through him.
   "You want the nightmares to stop, boy? Then take control of your destiny!" The old man said, raising his voice.
   "I don't know how!" Addy shouted in response, standing and preparing to swing his lightsaber, intent on cutting the old man down. As soon as he brought the blade to bear, his eyes snapped open, and he was awake.
   Addy sat up and rubbed his eyes. Something felt different. It took him a moment to realize what it was, before he began hurriedly throwing his few belongings into a backpack. He knew what to do now.

   Rakham wasn't sure if it was the sound that woke him, or the disturbance he felt in the Force, but as his eyes snapped open, he found himself staring directly into Dala's blue irises.
   "What's happening?" He asked her groggily, as the two dragged themselves out of bed and reached for their weapons. It looked like they'd both awoken at the same moment.
   "It sounds like the Fugitive." She replied. The high pitched whine turned to a roar as the two ran outside, and they made it just in time to see the Corellian freighter tear into the night sky. Looking around, they saw that Heditt and Tasrii were standing outside in their nightclothes looking just as bewildered as Rakham and Dala.
   "Did Addy steal the ship?" Tasrii asked no one in particular.
   "There's no way. There's no way." Heditt kept repeating, rushing into Adkai's Koloa hut. The others followed him, and found it empty, without so much as a note. None of them quite knew what to do, and eventually an argument broke out between the brothers. Heditt was certain that Addy had good reason for whatever he was doing, while Rakham was convinced that he'd betrayed them. Tasrii tentatively took Rakham's side, and Dala attempted in vain to mediate between them. The argument lasted for hours, until it was cut short by L2.
   "Masters!"
   "Masters!"
   "Masters! Stop fighting!" Eltoo increased her volume to maximum, finally drawing the attention of everyone gathered around.
   "What!?" Rakham said exasperatedly.
   "Trouble." She pointed a finger towards the sky. A great black triangle had blotted out a section of stars, and if one looked closely, the shape of troop transports could be seen descending.
   "Oh, no." Dala said softly. "Please, no. Not now."
   "Everyone, grab your gear and get ready!" Heditt said calmly, the argument forgotten. Tasrii and Eltoo ducked off to gather armor and weapons. Rakham and Dala embraced one another, each of them promising that they'd protect the other, before doing the same.

   Ten minutes later, a motley crew had assembled in the clearing. Dala and Rakham wore traditional Jedi robes and cloaks with their hoods up and lightsabers in hand. Tasrii wore her Mandalorian armor under a heavy cloak, and with the crossguard saber in her hand and a sawn off DLT-19 slung across her back, she could have been mistaken for an ancient Jedi crusader. A clean black jumpsuit and equipment belt carrying a lightsaber, DL-44 blaster, several thermal detonators and assorted slicing tools adorned Heditt. L2, having given her "compact" weapon to Tasrii, was now carrying a rather large autolaser, with two DL-44s on her hips and a T-21 rifle on her back. A rough, hooded burlap poncho concealed her metal features, and Rakham was fairly certain he could spot at least three eight inch vibroblades on her person.
   "As far as I can tell, we only have one option here. We have to lure them away from their shuttles and steal one. From there, with a little luck, we'll be able to get out of here. No matter how it plays out, there's going to be a fight. When they land, I need three of you to draw them away and then circle back. I'll get aboard one of the shuttles and hijack it. I need one of you to stay with me and watch my back."
   "I'll do it." Tasrii stepped forward and extended her hand. "Let me prove that I'm on your side."
   Heditt paused for a moment and reached out to shake the gauntlet firmly. "Let's get it done. Everybody, get ready. We don't have long."

   The five fugitives shrank back into the woods to wait. None of them could tell exactly where Tasrii and Heditt had disappeared to, but that was probably a good sign. It wasn't as long as it felt like before the sound of shuttles drew near, and the drone of a TIE fighter sounded. Two shuttles set down in the clearing, and several other continued overhead. It looked like at least fifty Stormtroopers disembarked, most of them immediately rushing the Koloa huts, the others establishing a perimeter. Knowing that it would only be a few seconds before their cover was blown by sensors, Rakham turned to L2.
   "L2-A1, fetch me a drink." The activation code unlocked the safety blocks in Eltoo's programming, and her photoreceptors flashed bright red.
   "Understood, Master Rakham. Please, stand clear."

   As usual, L2 was completely in her element as the autolaser spooled up. A laugh came from her unmoving chrome lips, and she stepped out into the open, unbroken beams of green energy tearing from her laser into the ranks of the Stormtroopers. With her safeties deactivated, her reflexes were twice as fast as any of the troopers', and she swung the laser from target to target with astonished speed, sidestepping what incoming fire she was able to, and letting her armor absorb what she wasn't. Dala and Rakham seemed to be in more danger than Eltoo, even though the Stormtroopers couldn't have even know that they were there. Dala reached for Rakham's hand and gripped it tight, before letting go and activating her lightsaber. Rakham did the same, and both of them rose to face the music.

   Twenty meters into the forest on the other side of the clearing, Heditt and Tasrii watch silently as L2 cut down troopers like wheat before a scythe. In a moment, they saw the blue and green glow of lightsabers batting blaster bolts back towards the troopers, before all three of them drew back into the treeline, taking most of the troopers with them. Half a dozen of them remained, attempting again to establish a perimeter while radioing to their command that they'd located the Jedi. Through the Force, Heditt indicated that it was time to move. He would use a stealth generator to get aboard one of the shuttles, she would handle the guards.
   Tasrii's mind flitted for just a moment to how imposing she must look, marching out of the forest with a flowing cloak over blood red armor, lit by the fires started by L2's laser. With a screech, her lightsaber came to life exactly as she stepped out into the clearing, and she couldn't help grinning as the sound finally drew the attention of two troopers, who stumbled and fell over one another trying to get away from her.

   Fear is a weapon as dangerous to you as it is to your enemies, apprentice. Rakham's voice echoed in her head.
   Sorry, Master. She sent back guiltily, seizing the chance to snatch the two fallen troopers' weapons with the Force and fling them into the forest. Another trooper fired at her, and she found herself in the attention of everyone in the clearing. Deflecting the bolt with a spin, she slammed the Force into him, knocking him back into the hull of his shuttle. Three troopers remained outside of the shuttles, all of them firing at her. The first one was isolated from the others, but Tasrii deflected a few of their blaster bolts into his chest. She continued to march toward the last two, who took cover around the nose of a shuttle, firing sporadically. Within a moment, she was upon them. Using the Force to snatch one of them off his feet and around the corner, her lightsaber met his midriff, and his momentum carried him through it. Before his upper half hit the ground, she rounded the corner, bringing her blade down across the last trooper's blaster rifle, cutting it in two and inadvertently severing a few of his fingers, causing him to howl in pain.
   "Sorry about that, but isn't it better than the alternative?" She asked him, but before he could respond or react, she slammed his head against the nose of the speeder, knocking him out cold with a solid Thunk! Heditt looked up from his work inside the viewport, distracted by the noise, and flashed a quick grin at Tasrii, who replied with a thumbs up and an ear to ear smile that was hidden by her helmet.

   Eltoo pulled the trigger of the autolaser, switched to a different target and pulled it again before realizing with disappointment that it had stopped firing. Grabbing it by the almost red hot barrel, she slung the twenty-five pound cannon at a nearby trooper, not waiting to see it smash his helmet and kill him him instantly. Instead, she drew her DL-44s, and began firing them simultaneously at different targets, rarely missing, but not always killing. It seemed like the troopers kept scurrying forward like armored roaches no matter how many she hit.
   This was a good time.
   A blaster bolt slammed into L2's chest, but she kept going. Alarms were going off in her programming; that one had hurt. More infuriated by this than anything, L2 began to forget the objective. She had to kill these Stormtroopers. Had to protect Masters. Her feet began to move in the opposite direction, back towards the troopers. She faintly heard Rakham call out her name, but that wasn't important. A Stormtrooper leaned around a tree right in front of her and fired, the bolt ripping the blaster from her left hand. In response, she drew a vibroblade from her belt with the newly freed hand, whipping it at the trooper who'd fired the shot. The blade buried itself in his neck, and he fell to his back clutching at it. Continuing her forward march, L2 placed a foot on the dying trooper's chest and fired down into his faceplate. A bolt burned into her own face, taking out a photoreceptor and impairing her vision. She kept firing and walking until, finally, the DL-44's power pack was drained. She dropped it, moving much more sluggishly now and taking a myriad of hits as her programming screamed, and reached for the T-21 on her back. The high powered blaster made short work of trooper armor, and finally, with a trail of carnage and white plated bodies behind her, L2 stepped into the clearing again. One more trooper remained, dragging himself across the ground on his back, his right leg trailing uselessly due to a blaster wound. L2 pointed the blaster at him, and pulled the trigger over and over, her damaged circuitry failing to comprehend that it was overheated. Finally, she tossed it aside, and grapped both of the trooper's legs. He screamed as she swung him into a tree, but after he hit with a sickening crunch, there was silence. L2-A1, perhaps the finest battle droid ever created, fell to her knees. As the red light faded from her remaining eye, she saw Rakham running across the clearing from the shuttles towards her. Behind him, Dala and Tasrii. Heditt could be seen preparing the shuttle for takeoff. The mission had been accomplished. Her masters were safe. If Eltoo had been capable of smiling, she'd have been beaming with joy as one last thought flickered across her circuitry.
   A good time indeed.

CHAPTER END

Thanks guys! I though you would enjoy that one! This one has some concepts that I think are going to expand into something very cool over the next few chapters, but we'll have to wait and see!

CHAPTER 10: The Smuggler's Moon

Miraculously, none of the Imperials seemed to notice when the stolen shuttle lifted off and shot away at max speed, skimming the treetops as Heditt attempted to put as much space between them and the Imperials as possible. Once he deemed it safe, they broke atmosphere and made a lightspeed jump to empty space.

L2-A1's body was placed in an escape pod, with her weapons beside her, and launched into space. In a last act of defiance on L2's behalf, they aimed the pod towards the last position of the Star Destroyer over Oros, though the knew it was unlikely it would hit. It was a simple funeral, as a droid, Eltoo had no connection to the Force, and she would not return to it, but all of them still considered her more than that, especially Rakham. The others comforted him as a tear rolled down his face, but they didn't have time to mourn, soon the Imperials would come looking for this shuttle.

"Where can we go?" Tasrii asked as they returned to the cockpit.
"I can only think of one place." Rakham said. "But Heditt's not going to like it."
"Oh, no. Absolutely not." Heditt said, sensing what was on Rakham's mind.
"The Imperials don't go there, and my friends planetside have been hiding successfully for a lot longer than we have. They can help us."
"By 'friends' you mean the cartel of Dark Jedi criminals, right?"
"Do you have a better idea?" Dala said, sensing Rakham's thoughts as well.
Heditt was silent.
"It's settled then. Set course for Nar Shadaa."

Often called the Smuggler's Moon, Nar Shadaa was a haven for criminal activity of all sorts. The grimy streets were littered with garbage, and inhabited by chem dealers and vagrants. It very much reminded Tasrii of the station on which she'd grown up. Heditt eyed every person they passed uneasily, while Dala looked on the sick and unfortunate homeless with sadness. Rakham was the only one who didn't appear to be particularly bothered, striding purposefully towards their destination, which turned out to be a nondescript door down a particularly uninviting alley. Beside the door an apparently homeless man sat, wearing dirty, baggy clothes, but neatly trimmed hair and a clean face.
"We're here to see Nadia and Anton." Rakham told him.
"Piss off."
"Listen friend, I'm about fifteen years out of date on the passwords, so if you could just go tell Nadia that Rakham Crescentfall wants to talk, I'd appreciate it."
"Piss. Off."
"I see how it is." Rakham sighed, before using the Force to wrench the man to his feet and press him against the wall.
"Go. Tell Nadia." His words echoed with the Force, and the man gulped and nodded, scurrying through the door as quickly as he could. It was hardly a moment before the door opened again, and a wildly animated, remarkably petite human woman wearing dark clothes and makeup rushed out, immediately leaping to wrap her arms around Rakham's neck, planting a kiss on his cheek.
"Rakham! Ve knew you vould be back! It takes more than a little purge to kill the galaxy's greatest Jedi!" She said excitedly, in a thick accent with heavy rolling r's.
"It's good to see you too, Nadia." He said, turning red in the face and attempting to pry the little Dark Jedi off off his neck with limited success, until finally she dropped down to her feet of her own accord. Dala eyed the exchange with mirth, a grin tugging at her lips "Where is your brother?"
"Anton is doing business. You know how it is." She replied. "Now, stop being rude and introduce your companions!"
"Of course. This is my brother, Heditt, my apprentice, Tasrii, and my wife, Dala. Everyone, this is Nadia, a very old friend."
As Nadia bowed to the trio, who were somewhat taken aback by the eccentric woman before them, they all took the chance to get a look at her. She wore a black tunic, and a lightsaber with a clawed emitter hung from her belt. Her hair was black and cropped short, and her skin was pale. She had sharp features, and tattoos crept up her neck. To the two older Jedi, she looked dangerous. To Tasrii, she looked like a fellow fighter.
"It's wonderful to meet you all, I'm sure." Nadia said, her accent coming under control somewhat as she got over her initial excitement at seeing Rakham again after so many years. "Now, why don't we go inside and discuss the reason for your visit?"

Through the door was a rather inviting cantina. A droid stood behind the bar, and around a dozen patrons were scattered around, drinking, reading, or scheming amongst themselves. The lighting was soft, and a mellow, gentle tune was playing. Nearly all of the patrons carried lightsabers, and Dala would have sworn she recognized several of them.
"Things are different here now than they were before the Purge. This place is now open to any Force-sensitive being who wants to avoid the Empire's detection, not only Dark Jedi." Nadia said, gesturing to a secluded booth. As they sat down, a small server droid wheeled over and beeped an inquiry.
"Merenzane Gold for me." Nadia said to it. "And whatever my friends want, on the house."
"Agavinol with ice. Cazadore brand, if you still have it." Rakham requested. The other Jedi declined to order. After a moment, the droid returned with their drinks, and they got down to business.
"What brings you here, Rakham? I don't suppose you just missed us?" Nadia asked.
"I'm afraid not. You want me to start at the beginning, or skip to the important parts?"
"I have as much time to listen as you have to tell." She replied.

So, starting with the fateful day that Oder 66 was given, Rakham told their story. The others were still unsure whether or not to trust this woman they'd only just met, but Rakham had no reservations. Finally, he got to Addy's theft of their starship and apparent betrayal.
"So, we're hoping that you can help us lay low for a little while and avoid capture and execution." He finally finished. Nadia leaned back in her seat, considering.
"Of course I would not let you be executed." She said. "But I am considering the betrayal of your fellow Jedi Knight as well. From what you say, he was influenced by dreams, by someone far away. It takes a powerful mind to to do that to someone. It's not a normal feat, even for a gifted dark sider."
"Do you know anyone capable of something like that?" Heditt asked.
"Not personally. I need to speak with the others. It's getting late, but we have an apartment upstairs you can use. I'll show you up, and in the morning, I may know something more about your problem. Follow me."

The apartment was cozy at best, with two beds, a couch and a small kitchen, but it was clean, and relatively safe, and that was good enough for the exhausted Jedi. Within ten minutes of Nadia leaving, Tasrii was sprawled across the couch snoring, pieces of armor scattered around and lightsaber in hand, and Dala and Rakham weren't far behind. Even Heditt, who normally had a hard time resting in a new place, was soon fast asleep.

When Rakham woke, he found that Tasrii was gone, and Heditt was already awake and making breakfast. Dala still lay beside him.
"Where's Tas?" He asked groggily.
"Sparring with your Sith buddy." Heditt replied.
"They aren't Sith."
"I know that."
"Where are they fighting?"
"Up the stairs, first door on the right."
Rolling out of bed and dressing in his Jedi robes, the only clothes he owned at the moment, he went to investigate. Sure enough, as he rounded the top of the steps, he could hear the faint sound of clashing lightsabers. Opening the specified door, he entered a large, well equipped training room, in the middle of which Nadia and Tasrii circled one another. Tasrii wore her armor and cloak, and Nadia was equipped similarly in black armor, though rather than Mandalorian it seemed to be of a custom design. Sitting cross legged at the edge of the training mat was Anton, Nadia's twin brother and, other than his his gender and average height, nearly a carbon copy of his sister.
"How are you, Anton?"
"I'm well, brother. It's good to see that you're still alive."
"It's been a close thing once or twice." Rakham replied, pulling up the legs of his trousers to expose the metallic limbs. "A gift from Vader."
"You fought the Dark Lord and survived?" Anton asked, impressed.
"I wouldn't have made it if I didn't have help. Still, I hope one day someone runs that bastard down and cuts his legs off to return the favor."
Before the conversation could continue, the fight came to a crescendo, distracting them. Nadia was using Juyo, and the lightning fast form was punishing to Tasrii's slower, more deliberate style, but the Jedi still managed to hold her own as she was pushed backwards across the floor, her pale blue saber flashing against the blood red blade in Nadia's hands. Suddenly, Tasrii sidestepped, letting Nadia's strike meet nothing but air and throwing her off balance, before bringing her saber around to the back of her neck, a killing blow. Both of them deactivated their sabers.
"That's three-three. I think we're even." Nadia said breathlessly, patting her opponent on the shoulder. "You know how to fight, that much is certain."
"Oh, I still have much to learn." Tasrii replied modestly. For the first time, they noticed that Rakham had entered the room, and walked over to where he and Anton sat.
"Rakham, good morning! I have good news, and bad news. I think we know who has your apprentice!" Nadia said.
"That's excellent! What's the bad news?" He replied.
"I'm pretty sure he'll kill you all if you confront him."

CHAPTER END

Somebody needs to sell me a Flamberge emitter so I can build Tasrii's lightsaber.

CHAPTER 11: The Old Man

The stormy moon swelled in the Fugitive's viewport. Addy didn't know where he was, but he knew he was supposed to be here. He could feel the pull emanating from the moon in his very bones. Breaking into the atmosphere, the viewport was filled with nothing but grey clouds. The Fugitive raced through the haze, leaving a trail of clear sky behind it. Addy examined the scanners carefully. According to the readings, there was a peak in front of the ship with energy readings that indicated some sort of habitation at the top. He already knew that, though. He could see the high, forlorn mountaintop in his minds eye, with an enormous castle encapsulating it's peak, carved from the mountain itself. It wasn't long before it loomed before him. It was utilitarian, a great grey block, with a large flat ledge that seemed to serve as a landing pad. Addy set the Fugitive down there. The entrance to the castle sat directly before him, a black, gaping maw cut into the stone. A heavy feeling settled in his stomach as he stood, and prepared to face destiny.

"What do you mean you think he'd kill us all?" Heditt asked dubiously. The entire group had returned to their table in the cantina.
"He's powerful, and old. The legends say he's been alive for centuries, and most believe that to be a short estimate." Anton said, before Nadia continued;
"Before the Purge, a Dark Jedi named Mal Fortige from Nar Shadaa decided to go and kill the Old Man, just to prove that he could. He gathered seven companions to go with him, all of them powerful Force adepts. A week after they left to find him, their ship returned, and crashed into Nar Shadaa. Each of the eight had been decapitated and put back on the ship. After that, it became a regular occurrence for Dark Jedi seeking to prove themselves to challenge the Old Man. None have ever returned."
"It sounds like fabrication wrapped in legend to me." Heditt said. "And regardless of how much is true and how much is myth, I'm going to get my apprentice back." A quick look at the other Jedi confirmed that they felt the same way; they weren't leaving Addy behind without a fight. Anton and Nadia knew better than to argue with Rakham, and they could see the resolve in the eyes of the others. These Jedi were going to try their hardest to kill the Old Man

Addy didn't remember taking the lightsaber from his belt, but it was in his hand as he walked across the stone pad towards the gaping black cleft in the mountainside. The feeling in his gut only got stronger, but he powered through. Suddenly, appearing out of the blackness as though he'd stepped through a portal, the old man from his dreams was before him, merrily puffing on a clay pipe and wearing simple grey robes.
"Welcome, Adkai." He said, his voice gentler than it had been in the dreams. "Tell me, what brings you to my quiet abode?"
"You already know." Addy replied, steel in his voice.
"Perhaps I do, but I want to hear it from you."
"I seek the power to destroy the Sith."
The old man considered for a moment, or pretended to. "That would require quite a lot of power."
"I know that." Addy replied.
"It would require you to walk a path that you've rejected. A path that winds through shadow. You would have to renounce your old master. Renounce his teachings. Even then, it is not guaranteed that you are even capable of attaining such power."
"I have to try."
"So you renounce your master?"
"I do."
"Would you strike him down? Would you cut the heart from his chest with your lightsaber?"
"I..." Addy hesitated, and suddenly, was filled with pain unlike anything he'd ever known. It felt as though his blood was boiling in his veins. He could not even cry out, he merely collapsed to the ground, his lightsaber rolling away, towards the old man. As suddenly as the pain had appeared, it disappeared. Addy lay on the ground, panting.
"You are too weak to defeat the Dark Lords of the Sith." The old man croaked, his voice hardening. "But I think we can resolve that issue."

Rakham and Tasrii sat almost alone in the cantina, each nursing a drink at the bar. Tasrii had a taste for Corellian whiskey, it turned out.
"How did you know these people, Master?" She asked.
"I met them a long time ago." He replied, a smile coming over his face. "Kadmaur sent me here. It was both my last lesson and final test before becoming a Jedi Knight. I was 19, and as you know, Kadmaur had peculiar ways of doing things. A lot of masters test their students with the allure of the Dark Side, but most masters do it in a controlled environment, and test their students with the extremes, with pain, or loss, or anger, but from Kadmaur's point of view, those weren't the biggest challenges faced by a modern Jedi. He wanted me to experience corruption on a smaller scale. Here, I faced greed, dishonesty and arrogance. I came here under the pretense of investigating Dark Jedi chem cartels undercover. I was by Anton and Nadia's side as they built the empire they have today, and I won't lie to you, I enjoyed every second of it. It was exhilarating to cut our way through the underworld, and as time wore on, I became less and less concerned about our mission. Eventually, though, I had to make a decision. Stay here, or return to the Jedi Order. It wasn't hard. This wasn't my place, no matter how exciting it seemed at the time. So, I returned to the Jedi. I falsified my report to reflect that the dealers I'd been following were dead, and soon afterwards, I became a Jedi Knight."
"Master, you say that coming here the first time was your last lesson from Master Kadmaur, but I don't understand. What was the lesson?" Tasrii asked.
"The lesson was that sometimes, a Jedi must make his or her own decisions. We must allow the Force to influence us, the expectations of others. My decision was to lie in my report about Anton and Nadia, and allow them to continue their illicit dealings. Because I made friends instead of enemies, I gained a safe place to to take refuge and a set of allies in a time when both are in short supply, and Anton and Nadia might be bad, but they keep people a lot worse than they are in line from their position of power. Because of that, I believe I did the right thing." Rakham answered. Tasrii was quiet for a moment, considering his words, until finally she spoke again.
"Do you think we can defeat this Old Man?"
"I believe we can, but there's something I want you to learn. Let's go to the training room."

...
A month had passed since Addy arrived here, but it felt like it had been years. He'd been learning, and the Old Man's lessons usually involved pain. He told Adkai that he must learn to understand pain, he must learn to overcome pain, and then he must learn to use pain. That was the only way to defeat Vader. Addy had been unable to stand it at first, and he'd attempted to escape twice. When he failed to escape, he tried to kill the Old Man. His new master found the attempt amusing.
Addy was learning, though, and growing stronger. He was already more powerful than he'd ever been, and the Old Man was teaching him to channel his frustration, fear and pain into his abilities. He sat crosslegged on the edge of the stone pad, near the Fugitive, and stared out into the swirling mist. It was morning, but the weather here never changed. It was always light, always foggy. But being here helped Addy keep his mind clear. He was free of reservation, now. He was willing and ready to do anything necessary to accomplish his goal. It was freeing, in a way, to sever his bonds and ties, and concentrate only on his goal.
His reflection was broken by the appearance of his Master, who approached without a word and sat beside him, setting a tray holding a tea set and two cups between them, and pouring each of them a cup, steam rising from the warm liquid to join with the fog all around. The Old Man offered the cup to Addy, and he accepted gratefully, savoring the smell of the tea and taking a swallow while he waited for the Old Man to sip his. He never spoke before having his first sip of tea in the morning. As he finally did, Addy asked a question that he did not expect an answer to.
"Who are you?"
"I have been called a savior, a conqueror, a hero and a villain. I am everything, Apprentice, and I am nothing."
The response was all that Addy had expected, and he did not press the matter. He had been unable to learn anything about the Old Man so far, except that he was powerful, and ancient. "What will the lesson today be, Master?"
"There will be no lesson. Today, you will be tested. I hope you are prepared, because it will not be easy."

Tasrii was fast. Dangerously fast. Dala watched from the sideline of the training mat as Rakham tested his apprentice. He had spent the last three weeks teaching her advanced Force combat techniques, the kind of things that normally wouldn't be taught to an apprentice until very late in their training, if ever.
The Force flowed through the bodies of both combatants as they danced across the mat with greatly enhanced speed, strength and reflexes. Experience gave Rakham the upper hand, but Tasrii was enormously talented, and Rakham was trying to find out exactly how far that would take her. The fight lasted for nearly an hour, both of them pushed to their extremes, before finally Rakham called a halt.
"You're ready." He said, deactivating his lightsaber and giving a slight bow. Tasrii returned the gesture with a grin.
"Thank you, Master."
"Hey Dala, has Heditt got the shuttle ready yet?" He called to his wife. As soon as possible, they were leaving Nar Shadaa and heading to the coordinates begrudgingly provided by their Dark Jedi hosts. It was going to be a week long trip in the slow, but reliable shuttle they'd managed to get their hands on.
"Almost. He's finalizing the flight plan now. We should go and say our goodbyes to Anton and Nadia." Dala replied, and after Rakham and Tas changed out of their sweat soaked training robes, they all made their way to the cantina. Nadia jumped to her feet when she saw them, and practically ran towards them, somehow managing to hug all three of them at once despite her minuscule size.
"Rakham, you take care of them, understand? You cannot bring me new friends and then go get them all killed!" Rakham nodded solemnly in response.
"I understand."
Anton joined them then, patting Tasrii and Rakham on the back.
"You know, I think there's a pool going on the Old Man. If you manage to kill him, bring his head back. The jackpot is getting fat, and I dropped a few credits in with your name on them." He said merrily. "Either way, make sure you come back in one piece next time." He added, gesturing towards Rakham's legs, then, with a graceful bow, disappearing before anyone could reply. The twins hated goodbyes.
"We have to go, Nadia." Rakham said gently to his old friend.
"I know." She sighed, leading them towards the door. "Just be careful, alright? Watch your backs out there."
"I promise, Nadia, we will."
All four of them stepped into the alleyway, and Nadia watched as the three Jedi made their way down it, and stayed there long after they'd passed out of sight.

The shuttle was a squat, rectangular affair, with no defenses to speak of, few creature comforts and an engine that would run until the hull around it fell to dust. It was a workhorse, plain and simple, and it was home for the next week.
The Jedi were all quiet as they boarded and launched. Heditt worried himself with the operation of the shuttle, as the rest of them contemplated the coming challenge with unease. Eventually, when that became too much to think about, they each tried to distract themselves. Tasrii let her thoughts wander back to Nadia. Truth be told, she'd grown particularly fond of the sparky little Dark Jedi. Rakham inspected his lightsabers. His mind wandered back to the day the Purge began, when he'd picked up the curved hilt. He often wondered about that Jedi who'd fought so fiercely. He supposed that was why he kept the saber, as a reminder of what had been lost. Dala attempted to rest, but her sleep was plagued and fitful.

It was going to be a very long ride.

CHAPTER END

Thanks for the kind words, guys! I did email them about purchasing a Flamberge emitter, but they said that don't sell it by itself.

Now, the one that we've all been waiting for! Moving forward, there will most likely be a time skip, but I'm not sure if I want to follow Legends or Canon, so chime in! Also, a couple of regulars haven't commented on the last chapter yet, so if you're reading this, make sure you aren't jumping ahead!

CHAPTER 12: In Conclusion

They had come to the right place. The Fugitive sat beside the Jedi's shuttle, looking no worse for the wear. No one was nearby that they could sense, but each of them kept a saber in hand anyway as they disembarked the shuttle. They were all grimly silent as they walked shoulder to shoulder towards the entrance to the Old Man's fortress. They had spoken enough on the long way here, now was the time to put those plans in action. Strangely, they did not sense darkness or light around the mountaintop. The Force here was completely neutral.

Walking through the entrance, what had appeared to be utter darkness from the outside revealed itself to be soft grey light. Rakham suspected that the blackness of the entrance was an illusion. The four found themselves in a long, rough hewn stone hallway that opened up into an large room at the end that appeared to be richly decorated with fine rugs and drapes and filled with antiques, art and treasure. As they made their way towards it, suddenly, a blast of energy pushed them all apart, and walls of solid stone sprang up from the floor, slamming into the ceiling and cutting them off from one another.

Heditt and Dala were trapped in a box. Walls of stone had appeared in front of them and behind them, blocked each path down the hallway. They tried to reach out to the others in the Force, and when that failed, attacked the stone with their lightsabers. The blades had no effect. The two looked at one another with a sinking feeling as the voice of an old man spoke directly into their minds.
Sit tight, friends. Your fate has not yet been decided yet.

Rakham thought he had been pinned against the side of the hallway by three stone barriers, until he turned around and saw that a passage had opened behind him. He attempted the the same things as the others, and when they didn't work, he began to warily make his way down the passage.

Tasrii had a clear path to the great hall at the end of the passage, but she was busy mercilessly attacking the wall behind her, attempting to rejoin her companions. Unsatisfied when half a dozen strikes with her saber had no effect, she began using the Force, pushing and pulling in every direction she could think of, to no avail. Finally, she decided to press on, walking towards the hall. She was astounded by the treasures there. Piles of precious metals and gemstones were sporadically dotted around the walls, interspersed by paintings, statues and ancient artifacts. Many of the pedestals held lightsabers that appeared hundreds, if not thousands, of years old. There were bookshelves that reached nearly to the top of the walls, which stretched into a steepled ceiling of stained glass. Against one wall, a table held racks holding at least a dozen lightsabers, these newer, and most of them in the outlandish designs preferred by Dark Jedi.
Tasrii stepped into the room, and as she did, the walls suddenly shifted, dropping down into the floor and whisking away the assorted treasures. The light went from golden to grey, and the floor was splashed with color from the stained glass ceiling. She felt a presence suddenly, and turned to see Adkai standing near a wall, saber in hand.
"I'm sorry, Tas." He activated his lightsaber and strode forward, preparing to strike.

Rakham followed the passageway as it took several twists and turns, and soon, the sweet smell of burning pipe leaf came to his nose. Normally, the scent would have brought a smile to his face, but here, it was alarming. He'd only ever known a handful of people who smoked the particular leaf he smelled, himself included. Finally, he came to a door. It was made of a beautifully stained and polished hardwood, with a golden catch. He reached out and grasped the catch, steeling himself for what he might find.
The interior of the room was gorgeous. Paneling made from the same wood as the door ran around the walls, but it was mostly covered with floor to ceiling bookshelves. The floor was covered in thick red carpet, and against one wall, a huge, octagonal window that appeared to look out over the treasure room they'd seen earlier. Against the back wall sat a desk, and sitting behind the desk, a pipe clenched between his teeth, the Old Man.

Except to Rakham, this wasn't the Old Man.

This was Kadmaur.

...

Arctic blue flashed against bright yellow as Addy charged, allowing fury to fuel him. Tasrii met his blade with a parry and sidestepped gracefully, allowing his momentum to carry him past.
"I don't want to fight you. We want you to come home with us."
"I have no home, and neither do you." He snarled back at her, turning to swing his saber again. "The Sith took that privilege from us!"
Again, Tas parried, attempting to disarm him, but failing. "Hatred is what destroyed the Jedi, Addy. By succumbing to it, you're no better than the Sith." Her words only served to anger him more, and his attacks came more angrily, faster, but without control. Tas ducked under a wild swing at her head and Force pushed Addy off his feet, causing him to land with a thud. "It doesn't have to be like this!" She insisted in vain, as he rose to his feet for another attempt.

...

"Master?" Rakham asked in disbelief, confusion washing over him. "Tasrii said you were dead!"
"As far as she knew, son, I was." Kadmaur replied kindly.
"Where is Adkai, and what happened to Tasrii and my brother and wife?" Rakham asked, beginning to get a bad feeling.
"They are near, and, for the most part, safe. The show is going to start soon though, and I'd rather not miss it discussing them. We'll get around to it. Come, now." He stood from his desk and walked over to the large window. Rakham followed him, and saw Tasrii walk into the treasure room below. Rakham opened his mouth to ask what the meaning of this was, but Kadmaur shushed him, and with a gesture of his hand, the walls of the treasure room below dropped down into the floor, replaced by blank stone, leaving Tasrii in an empty room.. Without removing his eyes from Tasrii, who was now looking confusedly around, Kadmaur spoke.
"It's so good to see you again, Rakham. I've spent years preparing for this day. All that's left is for you to pass the test."
"What test?"
"This one." As Kadmaur spoke, Addy stepped out behind Tasrii, and for a brief moment, Rakham was relieved to see him in one piece, but that feeling turned to dread as he activated his lightsaber and charged Tas, who barely brought her own blade up in time to parry his wild strike. A smile spread across Kadmaur's face.
"I haven't seen a lightsaber like that in many years."
The two continued their fight below, with Tasrii staying on the defensive, refusing to strike back, and Addy becoming more and more aggressive.
"Why are you doing this?" Rakham asked, desperation creeping into his voice. He could sense the two Jedi below now, and he could feel that Addy wasn't going to stop. A darkness had taken tight hold of him.
"The true mark of a Master is not the knowledge that one has acquired, apprentice, it is one's ability to impart knowledge. You are my equal in ability, Rakham, as long as one adjusts that measure to account for the experience I have and you don't as of yet, so all that remains now is to see if you are able to share your ability as well as I can. That's why I sent you Tasrii, and brought Adkai here. I taught him to embrace passion, and use it to his advantage, while you taught Tasrii to walk the path of balance. Now, we shall see if you were able to teach her enough to survive this encounter."
"I don't understand. If this is about making me a Master, the Jedi are gone, and if they weren't, they would never approve of you corrupting a young Jedi Knight as part of the test. Again, why are you doing this?" Rakham was growing angry now. This was another one of Kadmaur's games, and he had a growing suspicion that Kadmaur was the one who kept calling the Imperials on them, using the Empire to herd them along towards this showdown.
Kadmaur sighed. "The council's approval meant nothing to me when they were alive, and now it means less. What I have unlocked in your apprentice has been there for a long time, eating at him from within. He is more at peace now that I suspect he's been since before the Purge. Would you deny him that?"
Before Rakham could answer, the fighting below reached a crescendo.

...

"This is your last warning, Addy!" Tasrii shouted through her helmet's comm system as she batted the yellow blade away from her head. "Stop this before I have to hurt you!" Addy responded with a long series of strikes, attacking high, then low, then high again, attempting to overwhelm his opponent's defenses. She lashed out with a kick, catching Addy in the groin. He doubled over in pain and fell to his knees, but did not release or deactivate his saber. Tasrii, out of breath, gasped out a single word.
"Enough!"
"You're right." He replied breathlessly, before reaching out with the Force and snatching Tasrii toward him, thrusting his blade into her chest as she stumbled forward. Her eyes went wide under the helmet, and she cried out softly.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Rakham began beating on the window high above them and screaming obscenities, and Kadmaur looked on with disappointment.

Addy deactivated his lightsaber and stared at the floor, attempting to catch his breath. Tasrii remained on her feet, swaying gently, before, with a primal snarl, she lurched forward and buried her saber to the hilt in Addy's chest, locking her off hand onto his shoulder for leverage and balance. His head snapped up and his eyes locked onto the T-shaped visor of Tasrii's helmet. A look of utter astonishment was etched permanently into his face as the light drained from his eyes.

Unlike Tasrii, he only had one heart.

She released his body, letting it slump to the floor, and took two steps towards the the tunnel she'd entered through before collapsing herself.

Rakham's green lightsaber flared to life.
"I'm going to help her."
"No need." Kadmaur replied, and gestured towards her. He had released Dala and Heditt, who were rushing to her side. There was a cry of anguish in the Force as Heditt saw Addy's body, but he could sense that his apprentice was dead, and his attention remained on Tasrii.

"I can't just allow you to get away with this." Rakham said angrily, his green blade flaring to life as he turned to face his old Master.
"I know." The Old Man replied with a faint smile. "That, too, is part of the test. You've passed with flying colors so far, so let's see if you can finish it. Let's see if you can carry my legacy." He drew his saber. The hilt was long, and topped by a flanged emitter that ran down into a grooved grip and long, smooth cylinder that ended in a knobbed pommel. Kadmaur walked over to his desk, and after taking one last puff from his pipe, sat it down. He activated his lightsaber as he did, a long, bright green blade flickering to life.
He turned to face Rakham, as the younger Jedi's blood boiled. "Let's get it over with." With that, he used the Force to shove Rakham through the window behind him, the glass that had been so strong a few minutes earlier shattering into a million pieces.
Rakham used the Force to soften his landing, but he still hit the floor with a solid thud. The other two Jedi stood as he did, activated their lightsabers.
"Is she going to be alright?" Rakham asked.
"She's stable. It takes a lot to kill a Zabrak." Dala replied, but before the conversation could continue, Kadmaur leapt down though the window, saber in hand.

With a flick of the Old Man's wrist, the floor under the three Jedi bucked, but they held their balance. As Kadmaur strode towards them, Rakham stepped forward to meet him, and their sabers screamed as they locked together. As Dala and Heditt began to attempt to flank him, he nodded his head towards them, sending them flying through the air to land in a heap.
"This is a personal matter." He said, his voice still calm. He effortlessly parried the next few strikes, and Rakham got the impression that Kadmaur was savoring the fight. They continued, Rakham weaving, bobbing, and stumbling side to side, throwing his saber in wide arcs that shifted to different targets before landing. Kadmaur responded with Form II, and displayed a frightening mastery. The smell of burning hair filled Rakham's nostrils as one of Kadmaur's strikes came close enough to singe his beard, but suddenly, the Old Man stepped back, just out of reach, and resumed his stance, a smile across his wizened features.
Rakham pressed the attack, but this time, Kadmaur was slow to respond, and Rakham's blade slashed his chest, wounding him mortally. He fell to his knees, just as Adkai had before, and gasped, trying to speak. Wary of the trick Addy had pulled earlier, Rakham moved forward, and knelt before his old master. Sadness washed over him, and he leaned forward, to hear Kadmaur's words.

"You did... well." He gasped hoarsely, and pressed his lightsaber into Rakham's hand. "Use what you've learned. Maintain balance. I'm-" He swallowed, struggling harder to speak. "I'm sorry for what I had to do."
"I'm sorry too, Master." A tear rolled down Rakham's face as Kadmaur collapsed into his arms. For a moment he held the old man's body, and then, without a whisper, his robes fell empty, and he was gone.

...

"You've got to quit spoiling me, Nadia!" Tasrii said with a laugh. She was lying in a bed over the cantina, her back propped up on a pile of pillows and her chest wrapped in bandages.
"You're in no position to make such decisions." Nadia replied, setting down a rather pleasant smelling tray of food and pouring a glass of Corellian whiskey from a decanter. "You need your rest, and I have decided to look after you. Not like I have anything better to do, since Rakham made me stop selling drugs."
There had been a lot going on in the three weeks since they'd returned from Kadmaur's fortress. For one thing, Kadmaur's collection of holocrons and books had rivaled even the great Jedi Library, and Rakham had been poring over them, learning. He'd decided to establish a new order of Jedi dedicated to protecting this knowledge, and to attempt to restore some semblance of balance to the galaxy. Nadia and Anton had been recruited, as well as Dala and Tasrii. He'd made Tasrii a full knight, for what that was worth. Each of them wore a lightsaber focusing apparatus with a khyber crystal as a symbol of the shadowy new order, which Rakham called the Jedi Templars.

Heditt had been missing since they returned to Nar Shadaa. The loss of his apprentice had hurt him deeply, and no one was sure where or or when they would see him again. Rakham said that he could still feel his presence among the stars, and he knew that eventually they would be reunited.

Rakham was standing on the balcony of their apartment over the tavern, looking out across the city. Nadia had arranged an upgrade from the cramped two room apartment after they'd returned, and gotten a private set of rooms for Dala and Rakham.
"How is Tas doing?" Dala asked, walking up beside him.
"She's recovering well. Nadia is taking good care of her." Rakham replied.
"Those two are becoming quite fond of each other, I think."
"It certainly seems that way. I'm happy for them both." Rakham said with a smile. They were quiet for a moment, enjoying the colors of the sky as the sun set, until Rakham spoke again. "What do you think our next move should be?"
"I see plenty of work to be done right here on Nar Shadaa. It would be nice to settle down for a while, and just be Jedi, wouldn't it?" Dala replied.
"Yes. Yes it would."

...

BOOK ONE END

Ladies and Gentlemen, the time has arrived.

BOOK TWO: KNOWLEDGE

CHAPTER 13: Templar Business

Years passed. A Rebellion rose, and an Empire fell. The Templars leveraged the knowledge of Kadmaur's Archive to great power, managing to slow the effects of time on their bodies, project their consciousnesses across great distance and do many other things that the Jedi Council probably would have balked at. They also learned to manipulate the living stone fortress that the Archive was stored inside, and a warden was there always, usually accompanied by at least two researchers, toiling tirelessly over holocrons and books, transferring the information to datapads so that a backup could be established, for that was the goal of the Templars. Their Order was sworn to prevent what had happened to the knowledge of the Jedi Order from happening again. Of course, with the Empire currently falling to pieces and the Sith allegedly dead, perhaps for good this time, that was not as much of a risk as it had been ten years ago when the work began.
But, that was the deal. When one became a Templar, they swore to protect the Archive and seek out new knowledge to add to it, and in return, all of the information in the Archive was available, to use as one saw fit. The Templar numbers were, by design, never high. There were four Masters; Dala and Rakham Crescentfall and Nadia and Anton Stark. Light and Dark were represented equally in shades of grey on their council, because the dozen and a half or so active Knights came from all three creeds. There was occasionally tension, but the Knights tended to work solo, and when they worked in teams they chose their partners, so it was rare for there to be any serious dispute over philosophy. The Dark Jedi did not bring any wrongdoing into the cantina or the archives, the Light Jedi did not attempt to preach, and the Grey Jedi minded their own business.
Heditt had not been seen in ten years. His presence could still be sensed by Rakham occasionally, but he'd made no attempt to contact anyone within the Templars. Rakham supposed that after grief had driven him to isolation, he'd found contentedness somewhere. None of his old comrades resented him for that, but they did still miss him from time to time.
Life went on. Rakham, Dala and Tasrii lived on Nar Shadaa, but they weren't often there. Usually they could be found at the Archive or running across the galaxy, searching for new additions to the Archive or simply following the flow of the Force to help those in need. Right now, though, all three were at home, taking a much needed break from their adventures.

As midnight began to fade away on Nar Shadaa, Nadia gently ran her finger over the round scar on Tasrii's chest. Her life as a pit fighter had left the Zabrak with many scars, but this was the one that had come closest to killing her. Nadia snuggled closer to Tasrii, wrapping her arms around her tightly. They led a dangerous life together, and the thought that someday, inevitably, something was going to take them from each other almost made Nadia sick. Despite the love they felt for one another, they still had their fights, and they'd had a bad one earlier that night. Nadia was certain that she'd started it, but it had been over something so trivial she could barely even remember what it was. Sometimes, she was certain that there was something wrong with her, something broken inside that made her push away her loved ones without even knowing she was doing it. It had been the same all her life, and she still blamed herself for Rakham, her best and only friend at the time, leaving Nar Shadaa when he was young. She sighed discontentedly and closed her eyes, hoping and praying to finally pass into sleep and leave her stress behind.
"I'm sorry." She barely whispered, not wanting to wake Tasrii.
"I forgive you." Tas' voice was no louder, and she took the smaller woman into her arms, drawing her into the safety of a lover's embrace.

...

In a decrepit hangar near the spaceport, Rakham busied himself mixing a can of paint. He hadn't been sleeping lately, and this was where he spent most of his nights. In the hangar sat two Eta-2 starfighters, each of them expertly restored, retrofitted and customized by Rakham and Tasrii. Rakham's was a flat, sky colored blue, Tasrii's deep burgundy. They'd been equipped with upgraded turbolasers that could probably take down a cruiser if they really wanted to, and custom racing engines that outperformed any production model fighter on the market. Right now, Rakham was adding the finishing touch to his paintjob; a bright yellow pinstripe along each wing, set back six inches from the edge. As he reached the end, he backtracked, painting the ship's registration number over the stripe by the cockpit. He stepped back and admired his handiwork with a smile. He and Tasrii had found a shared passion when it came to working on old machines. It was pleasantly distracting. He moved on to her craft, trading his yellow paint for black, and repeated the process. All that was left now was to finish installing the custom leather upholstery in the cockpits, but that would wait until they could finish the project together. Tasrii had no skill with a paintbrush, and had practically begged Rakham to finish the exterior of her fighter. In turn, Rakham had struggled for hours attempting to properly run his wiring harness, and Tas had finished it for him in fifteen minutes. However it had happened though, the job was done, and done well. Rakham turned, and jumped so badly he nearly fell on the floor.
Walking towards him from the direction of the open door was an aging, dark skinned human man, with a shaved head, steely silver eyebrows and a piercing, serious stare. He carried an ornate lightsaber, but wore no Templar pendant, and his right hand had been replaced by a prosthetic.
"Sam! You're gonna kill me sneaking up like that!" Rakham exclaimed.
"I found it." Sam said, without further explanation, his voice low and rich. Rakham's eyes widened.
"Already?"
"Right here." Sam pulled a data disk from his pocket and handed it to Rakham, who took it gently, holding it as though it were some small fragile creature instead of a chunk of metal.
"How did you track it down so quickly?" Rakham asked, never taking his eyes off of the treasure.
"It's all about who you know."
"Have you seen the contents?"
"Seen and copied. It's all there, mostly."
"Thank you, Sam. Are you sure I can't pay you?"
"That map ending up in the right hands will be payment enough. Take care, Rakham." With that, Sam turned and made to leave, but Rakham stopped him, holding out a Templar pendant.
"It's yours if you'll have it." He said.
"I've had enough bad experiences with Jedi Orders to last my lifetime. I'll be in touch." With that, he marched back out into the night. Rakham left not long after, rushing back to the cantina to find a terminal he could plug the data disk into.

...

A week passed, and the makeshift stone landing pad at the Archive was getting crowded as Templars from around the galaxy answered Rakham's emergency call. There were fighters, shuttles and discreet freighters scattered haphazardly around the stone ledge, and various people could be found here and there, pilots, copilots, bodyguards and other associates of individual Templars who weren't allowed inside the Archive.
Kadmaur's treasure hall had been converted into a library. There were several long tables, each stacked with carefully organized books, holocrons, manuscripts and datapads, and scattered about the room were large, comfortable chairs. Continuing through that room, one came to the dining hall, where much of the art from the treasure hall had been moved. In this room there was a great round table, and on the rare occasions that the order met, it was here that they ate, debated, mourned or celebrated as the situation called for. Two spiral staircases were present in the dining room, one leading to the lavish but barely used "barracks", which was more like a wing of luxury suites, and the new treasure room, while the other led to the vast archives that the place was significant for. There were many other rooms, of course, including Kadmaur's old office and chambers, both of which now belonged to the Warden, and a vast network of passages and miscellaneous rooms.
Now, all members of the order who were present had gathered around the table in the dining room. It was a motley group. Not counting the four masters. there were five humans, a Hapan, two wookies, a Duros, two Twi'lek, a Miraluka and, of course, Tasrii. The thing that set them apart most was their disparate equipment. They showed flight suits, armor, long coats, robes and plain clothes in equal number. Some concealed their lightsabers, others displayed them proudly. Many carried various other weapons. The only unifying thing was the pendant around each Templar's neck. Rakham was the first to speak as the last Templar to arrive, one of the humans, finally sat.
"I'm not gonna waste your time with pleasantries, friends, but let me say that I'm happy to see you all here and in good shape." He said, pausing as a murmur of appreciative response passed through the small crowd. "I also want to apologize for being so vague in my message, but what we have here must not fall into the wrong hands. Sam came through for us." He produced the silvery disk from a pocket, and put it into a holoprojector on the table in front of him. A blue starmap blinkered to life over the table. "If he was telling the truth, and the Masters believe he was, this is a map to every known Jedi Temple in the galaxy. It was secreted away during the Purge so that it wouldn't fall into the hands of the Sith, and now it's resurfaced at last."
A buzz of conversation erupted, and it took a moment for the Masters to quiet it down and answer questions.
"Do you think we'll actually be able to find anything at the old temples?" The Miraluka woman asked.
"At many of them, no, I don't believe we will. The old Jedi were smart to hide this; the Emperor hoarded or destroyed every scrap of Jedi knowledge he could find, and I'm sure that he found many temples. If we're lucky, though, we could strike gold. There are dozens of temples on this map, and hopefully time and the Empire showed mercy to a few of them." Rakham answered.
"It looks like there's a sector missing from the map." A human man pointed out.
"There is. I don't know if the disk got damaged, or if Sam removed it, but either way, he gave us this freely, so I won't complain."
One of the Wookiees wailed a question. What is the plan?
"I would like everyone who's willing to choose two or three locations from the map to investigate. I would rather no one walked into this alone, so I'd like for you all to consider forming pairs or groups to work together with. I won't insist upon it, but places as strong in the Force as these old temples are can be very dangerous. I've already broken the starmap down into a list of coordinates and sent it to you all, so group up and choose however many you'd like to investigate. If you find anything, bring it back here, and on the slim chance that any of these temples are inhabited, leave them alone and mark the coordinates. Any questions?"
"Just one," a human Dark Jedi spoke up. "When can we leave?"

...

The more excitable Templars had all left within a few hours of the meeting, but many had remained at the Archive, planning to catch a good night's rest in a real bed and a meal that wasn't made from dehydrated powder while they had the chance. After a day, there were three Templars living at the Archive, the Warden and two others. Dala, and Rakham had stayed behind, but they planned on leaving soon, after checking on things around the Archive.

The two researchers, the Hapan and one of the Wookies from the meeting, were both highly pacifist Force Adepts, so they rarely took missions. Their names were Edda Veek and Gra'porin. The final permanent resident of the Archive was Berra Tarun, the Miraluka. Currently, Rakham stood in her office, waiting on her to appear before he and Dala left.
Memories flooded back as he looked out the window that he'd been flung through ten years before. Pain tugged at his heart as Addy's death played out again in his mind's eye, and he could almost hear Kadmaur's voice beside him. He was still attempting to unravel the mystery of Kadmaur's final test, but his journals were written in a language that none of the Templars or their protocol droids could understand. A small part of him hoped that something would be found in the temples to shed light on the cryptic code.
With a slight creak, the door behind the desk opened, and Berra stepped into the office, taking a seat at her desk and drawing a bottle and two glasses from it.
"Well, what can I do for you, Master?" Berra poured a measure of brown liquid into each glass. Being a Miraluka, she was completely blind, her eye sockets empty, but all Miraluka could "see" using the Force. Rakham often wondered if Berra didn't see more than he did himself. She wore a simple brown blindfold, and plain robes. Her hair was long, black and frizzy, and she had soft features and pale skin. Many of the Templars, even the light ones, carried with them an air of hardship and roughness, the scars of a life lived on the run, but Berra was one of the few who did not. There was always an aura of calm and grace surrounding her, and it was enough to put anyone at ease. Rakham knew, however, that if anyone or anything threatened the Templars or the Archive, that calm could disappear in a moment, and the well-worn hilt of a saberstaff hanging from her belt was a warning of that.
"I just wanted to see how things are going around here, Berra." Rakham replied to her question, taking a seat across from her at the desk, and accepting the glass she offered him.
"Well, if it's a progress report you're after, the news is nothing but good. We're in the final stretch, and unless we find yet another secret library or treasure room, the transcription should be complete within six months. However, there is something I'd like for you to see before I let Edda and Porin loose on it." She said.
"Oh?" Rakham replied, an interested look on his face. It wasn't all that rare that something was uncovered within the Archive that was deemed of particular interest, but never had the researchers been held back from something they discovered.
"Follow me." She rose, and led Rakham on a winding path through the Archive. Many of the hidden stone passages had been left open permanently, with wooden doors installed by the maintenance droids, but there were still quite a few left hidden behind solid stone. Berra manipulated the living stone as easily as Kadmaur had, the walls opening as they approached it like hydraulic doors on a starship. For fifteen minutes they walked in silence, until finally, one of the stone hallways ended in a relatively small room.

This room was different from the others. A few shafts of natural white light peeked in from cracks in the ceiling, but it was still dim. At one end, a raised dais held a glass armor case and several pedestals. Berra waited by the door as Rakham approached it. The air here was electric with power. As he approached the armor case, he began to make out details within it, through the thick layer of dust. He conjured a gentle gust of wind using the Force, blowing away the dust.
A set of black robes hung inside the case. Under the hood, a dark steel mask, with a black visor and crimson highlights. The mask showed the damage and age of millennia. At the belt hung two lightsabers, equally as old as the mask.
"Berra, what is this?"
"You don't recognize it?"
"It's not possible."

Before either of them could continue, intruder alarms began to blare distantly. Neither of them hesitated, each taking off at a sprint, flying down the corridors that had brought them to the room, sabers in hand. Berra took a shortcut, and instead of her office, they came out in the great hall. Porin the Wookie stood roaring at a lone intruder, his green lightsaber in hand and activated. The intruder stood with arms spread out, attempting to comply with the Wookie, but entirely incapable of understanding his speech.
The intruder was ragged, to say the least. His brown robes were dusty, his hair and beard were wild and unkempt, and streaked with grey. His left eye had been replaced with a cybernetic, and scars crisscrossed his face. His left hand was missing several fingers, and right had been replaced by a cybernetic. Around his waist, various gadgets hung from his belt, including a roughly constructed lightsaber.

Berra activated her lightsaber, blue blades flaring to life from each end of the hilt, and began to speak, but before she could, Rakham strode forward, and wrapped the man in a bear hug, lifting him off his feet.

"Heditt, you look like Bantha druk!"

CHAPTER END

It's that time! I'm still stuck on my phone writing, so forgive my screw-ups, please.

CHAPTER 14

Friends, Foes, and Other Equally Dangerous Individuals

PART 1
Heditt Cresentfall was looking much better as he stood before the gathering Templars. He'd washed, and his hair had been trimmed to shoulder length. His wild grey beard was replaced by a neat goatee. The blue light behind his cybernetic eye flashed as he turned his attention to the last two Templars to arrive; Tasrii and Nadia. He smiled wryly at them both as they took seats at the table.
Rakham and Dala had recalled most of the Knights they'd only just dispatched to hear his story. A human male, a Wookiee male, a Hapan female, a Duros male and two human females, none of whom were familiar to Heditt, sat around the table in various states of disarray. In addition, Rakham, Dala, Anton, Nadia and Tasrii were there. All in all, it looked to Heditt like a strong strike team. Rakham addressed the crowd first, not bothering to stand.
"Boys and girls, I'd like you to meet my brother, Heditt. I'm sorry to have pulled you all off of the hunt, but this is serious, and I'd like you to hear what he has to say. Afterwards, if you wish, you may return to the search, but I don't imagine any of you will. Heditt, when you're ready."
"Thank you, Rak." Heditt said, quickly gathering his thoughts. "I've spent the last decade wandering. I was a Jedi once, and I've been putting those skills to use throughout the galaxy. Recently, I came across one of your group. A Barabel named Sahka Tekk." Heditt paused as a murmur ran through the group, and the human man spoke up.
"Sahka has been dead for six months."
"She may very well be dead now, but she didn't die when you think." Heditt replied, and continued with his story. "I met Sahka when I was... pursuing a dark sider. She was hunting the same man, and we briefly worked together to defeat him. She never told me that she belonged to your organization. A few weeks after we parted ways, I was attacked. Two Dark Jedi, both of them with a tattoo on their faces identical to one that the Dark Jedi I had killed with Sahka wore." Heditt paused, drinking from a glass of water on the table in front of him, and continued.
"My initial guess was that they were all part of a small coven, and I seriously doubted that there were any more where these came from, but to be safe, I immediately attempted to contact Sahka and warn her of the potential danger. I could not reach her. Upon searching the corpses, I found this." He reached into his pocket, and pulled a Templar pendant from it, holding it up for everyone to see.
"Sahka's. She had mentioned to me that her next stop was in the Rilv system, so that's where I went. When I got there, I found her ship on one of the planets, and what looked like the signs of a fight. Evidence had been placed to make it look as though wild animals had attacked at her ship, killed her, and dragged off most of the body. It didn't feel right to me. The tracks around the scene did not belong to animals strong enough to kill the Barabel I'd fought alongside, and I found a set of very faint humanoid bootprints much too small to belong to Sahka."
"We didn't find any bootprints." Tasrii spoke up. "When Sahka went missing, I led the team that searched for her. We found the crash site, and we found a leg and part of a tail that DNA confirmed belonged to Sahka."
"I agree, it isn't much to go on, but I didn't like it. So, I began searching. It isn't hard to find Force adept communities if you know where to look. I had to dig deep, very deep, just to find the name Jedi Templar and associate it with Sahka's pendant. The rabbit hole went much, much deeper by the time I heard another name; Revenant. The Revenant is a deeply powerful and almost impossibly reclusive group of dark siders, with a hidden base on an uncharted desert world deep in the Outer Rim. I never would have found that out, but they sent another of their little kill squads after me. I spared one of them that time, and managed to pry some information out of him. He told me that they had indeed captured Sahka, and led me to their hidden planet. That's where I've been for the last three months, spying on them and trying to find a way inside to get to Sahka. I was monitoring their communications, which was much easier than one would think, when I finally figured out what they wanted with Sahka." He paused again.
"The Revenant knows about you. They've heard whispers of this place, and they want it for their own. They're willing to kill and torture to find it, and when they get here, it's going to be a bloodbath."

For half a moment, you could have heard a pin drop in the room, before suddenly, the Templars burst into argument. Only Berra, the Miraluka, and the masters remained silent.
"Enough!" Dala finally shouted, putting the Force behind her words and raising her voice to a deafening level. The room fell silent once more.
"Thank you. We must decide on a course of action, and we need to do it quickly. First, believe that all members of the council are willing to vouch for Heditt's honesty. Am I correct?" She stopped, and waited for each of the other three masters to nod a confirmation. "Alright. Is the trust of the Council adequate for all of you?" Again, she stopped, and none of the Templars showed any sign of dispute.
"So, if this Revenant has one of our own, there's no question what we must do; we have to bring her back. We only need to decide on a course of action that will accomplish that goal. There are three options that I can see. The first one is a direct attack on the compound Heditt saw. This is risky. We don't know how strong their defenses are. The second is to attempt to negotiate with them. I don't see it being very likely that this will work, if what Heditt says is true. Option three is to send a stealth rescue party, but even if we had enough people who knew how to hide their presence in the Force, it's not likely that they'd be able to show Sahka how to do it and make it out."
"If I may, Dala, Anton and I have experience with such things. Heditt, you mentioned that it was easy to monitor their communications. Why is that? Would you say that their technology is weak?" Nadia spoke up.
"Everything I saw was horribly outdated. I didn't see a thing on that planet that was younger than I am." Heditt replied.
"Was there any indication of long range scanners?"
"None."
"In that case, my recommendation is that the Masters approach the Revenant openly, and attempt to establish negotiations. Meanwhile, the rest of the Order waits just out of orbit in a stealth capable ship filled with mercenaries. If the negotiations go poorly, the ship will land and we'll storm the compound."
"Any objections?" Rakham asked. There were none, but Tasrii raised her hand.
"May I make a recommendation, Master?" Rakham nodded. "I've been working on a project, give me just a moment..." she dug around in a leather pack she'd carried in with her, and finally found a holoprojector.
"I've been speaking with a black market armorer on Nar Shadaa, and we devised this. Initially, I had planned on it being mine alone, but if we're going into something heavy, it might be a good idea for everyone to consider wearing it." She flipped on the projector, and a shimmering, six foot tall figure with it's arms spread wide loomed over the table. It was an armor blueprint. The body pieces bore a passing resemblance to Mandalorian armor, but were heavily streamlined. The helmet could also be compared to it's Mandalorian origin, but was less bulky to facilitate the user's cloak, and rather than a T-shaped visor, it bore two rectangular slits placed within an embossed cross over the face of the mask.
"We based the design on my old Mandalorian armor, with some updates to make it more efficient. There are no bulky hidden weapons, sensor equipment or storage compartments, making it lighter and more compact. The armor itself is the strongest on the market, it'll take some effort to get through. Finally, the design of the mask was changed to differentiate it from the Mandalorians'."
"How long will it take to get a set of this made for everyone?" Rakham asked.
"A week, a week and a half maximum. These guys work very, very fast for the kind of money we're talking about."
"Do it. Everyone, give Tasrii whatever information she needs. Nadia, Anton, find us some mercenaries. Berra, I want this place locked down tight. Dala and I will look for a ship. Everyone else, get ready. We're moving out as soon as possible."

PART 2

The entire Order was on Nar Shadaa two weeks later. Fifty Mandalorian mercenaries were assembled in the Templar's hangar, along with the Templar Masters and four others of their Order. They were all wearing the armor Tasrii had designed, and looking murderous in it. The two human light siders, a man and woman who went by the names Nova and Stikes, had chosen gold on silver color schemes. The other human, Teks, wore all black armor. Rakham wore blue and yellow, painted the same as his old clone-pattern armor had been. Dala also chose blue, but hers bore white accents. Tasrii's was red and black, and the twins wore identical steel grey and red. All of them also wore black or brown cloaks. There were Jedi in the hangar who didn't wear armor, Ran Joks, the Duros man, who simply wouldn't fit in the humanoid armor, Heditt, who had declined the Masters' offer to join the Order, and Sam, the grizzled old Jedi who'd mysteriously come out of the woodwork shortly after they'd reached the moon.

There were two ships in the hangar, a small stealth transport and a shuttle. All of the mercenaries and most of the Jedi were boarding the transport, until only the four masters remained, and they went aboard the shuttle.
"Where did you say you found those mercs again?" Rakham asked Nadia as they stepped up the ramp.
"They did some work for me a long, long time ago. The man in charge now is the son of their leader from back then. He was killed a while ago, apparently by a Zabrak pit slave. I asked Tas not to take off her helmet in front of them, just in case." She replied.
"You know, I thought that armor of her's looked familiar." Anton chuckled from ahead of them.

Soon, they were off. The trip was, thankfully, uneventful, as they cut through unexplored deep space. The planet that Heditt's coordinates finally brought them to was almost surprisingly typical. It was a small, dry, sandy world, with scanners picking up almost nothing other than very, very faint signals from the Revenant compound. The transport stopped far from the planet as the shuttle carried on.
"Is everyone ready?" Dala asked as the shuttle came into orbit. Everyone nodded, and she flipped a switch, opening a hailing channel to the compound. If this didn't work, they would land and do it in person.
A chime from the console indicated that a connection had been established, but there was no answer for several long minutes. Finally, a shimmering blue image appeared above the console.
"You are not welcome here." The figure was human, and his head was covered by a hood. Over his left eye, he had a tattooed pattern of interlocking circles.
"Is that so?" Nadia said maliciously, her thick accent working in her favor. "We heard you were looking for us. We also heard that you're holding, and may have murdered, one of our associates. So tell us, which is it?"
The image cut out for a long moment, before returning abruptly.
"Forgive our surprise, madam. We may have underestimated your order. It won't happen again." Again, the image went out, and the connection was lost. An alarm began beeping, and Dala laughed.
"They locked onto us with a rocket. They'd need to hit us with forty of them just to dent the shields."
"I thought they weren't going to underestimate us again?" Nadia said mirthfully. "Shall we call the others?"
"May as well, if there's any chance Sahka's still kicking, we have to get in there." Rakham replied, reaching the comms panel and giving the signal. The transport shot forward like an arrow, cutting into the atmosphere of the planet before the masters' shuttle could even catch up.

The compound was huge, and built from black stone. The architecture looked incredibly ancient. A great ziggurat made up the main structure, with several smaller outlying buildings. As the shuttle landed, Mandalorians were already swarming the smaller buildings, kicking in doors and using jet packs to take positions on top of them. The Jedi were waiting on the shuttle to land.
The masters were down the ramp as soon as it hit the dirt, lightsabers in hand. Tasrii was carrying two; the one she'd constructed as an apprentice on Oros was in it's loop on her bandolier, and in her hand was a saber of a similar, but more sophisticated design.
"Let's go." Rakham said, holding his blue saber in his right hand and his green one in the left. He activated both, and all of the other Templars followed suit, falling into a wedge formation. The Mandalorians were wrapping up, and their leader jogged up to the Jedi line.
"Sir! There was no one in these buildings, but there's evidence that the place is lived in."
"Thank you, have your men fall in behind us."
"Yes, sir!"

It was an impressive sight. A wedge of cloaked Templars with sabers burning, followed by a legion of the finest Mandalorian warriors with two veteran Jedi bringing up the rear. They marched up the steps of the ziggurat, intent on either recovering their lost comrade, or exacting justice for her loss. At the top of the steps, there was a set of enormous wooden doors, at least twenty feet tall. With a flick of Nadia's wrist, they were turned to kindling, the shattered splinters flying inward.

Dozens and dozens of black cloaked figures kneeled in the great hall before them. In front of them, the man from the holo stood, a red lightsaber activated in one hand, and his other hand was clamped around the neck of a very defeated looking Barabel. Sahka was alive, but she appeared to be barely so. A filthy bandage was wrapped around the stump of her right leg, and her tattered robes were covered in black bloodstains. Her face looked as though she'd been beaten savagely, and she leaned awkwardly on a crutch, her hands bound before her by electrified shackles. The Templar's anger at the state of their comrade flooded the Force, but when she made eye contact with Rakham, there was a savage glint there.
The cloaked man raised his saber to her neck and spoke.
"If you stay here, we will kill this... beast, and then we'll kill the rest of you. You can leave right now, and you'll be allowed to survive, for now." His voice was imperious and cocky.
"Massterss," Sahka spoke, feigning a struggle to breathe. "You musst..." Her eyes flashed, and with a motion, she snapped the shackles apart and brought up her hand, grabbing her captors bicep and sinking her long claws into it, forcing his saber arm away from her neck. She attempted to sink her teeth into his neck and tear out his throat, but she lost balance and instead found his shoulder.
As they fell to the ground in a roaring heap, each of the kneeling figures behind them sprang to their feet, all of them activating lightsabers. The Templars scattered, making room for the Mandalorians to open fire. Their blasters were not optimally effective against the Revenant, but it's hard to deflect rockets with a lightsaber.

As chaos erupted, Tasrii noticed that after the first row of opponents, none of them bore face tattoos, and many looked rather young, but that wasn't important for the moment, as she made a beeline for Sahka and the cloaked man. Before she could get there, a savage Force push from the man flung the Barabel off of him, sending her flying across the room. He body slammed into the wall, crutch gripped in her hand, and she slid to the floor, spitting out a chunk of flesh and fabric, hissing madly with Barabel laughter. Tasrii changed course, instead sprinting to Sahka's side.
"I don't ssuppoze you found thiss oness leg, Masster?" She shouted, dragging herself to a standing position and holding the crutch up in the air, testing her balance. "Thiss one thought sshe waz going to have to break hersself out of here, old friend!"
"We looked for you, Sahka. I looked for you. They made it look like you were dead."
"Thiss one never doubted the Order, or you, Masster." She said, and reached over, plucking Tasrii's second lightsaber off of her bandolier. "We'll sspeak more later, Masster." The arctic blue blade screamed to life, and the Barabel flew into action with astonishing agility, using her crutch as a weapon as much as the lightsaber.

Rakham and Heditt were back-to-back in the carnage, fighting like wildcats. Most of their adversaries seemed poorly trained, but they made up for it in sheer numbers, and it seemed like every time Rakham parried, another blade was humming towards him. He gave control over to the Force, letting his sabers blur into a web of motion. As Heditt found his groove behind him, they were soon standing in an empty ten-foot wide circle, six or seven bodies lying in it with them.

The story was the same throughout. Teks, Nadia and Anton poured lightning into their foes, and Nova and Stikes were juggernauts, tearing into the Revenant with brute Force. Even the barbarically wounded Sahka was exacting revenge, and the Mandalorians, though taking losses, were making a dent.

The battle was going very, very well, when the Templars felt a dark presence swelling somewhere in the Ziggurat. Suddenly, the Revenant seemed to gain renewed vigor, their attacks coming faster and stronger as the presence grew closer. They began to organize, splitting into groups and attempting to isolate and overwhelm the Templars. Their resolve began to flag. There was a cry in the Force as a blade pierced Nova's breastplate, and another as Stikes beheaded the one who'd struck her. A light strike bounced off of Teks' armor, and fingers of lightning flowed through her body. Anton and Nadia were cornered, fighting as hard as they could, and Rakham, Heditt, Tasrii and Sahka had been herded into the middle of the room. The Mandalorians had pulled back, gathering outside the door and reloading their ordinance as a firing line formed in the door, pouring suppressive fire inside.

Still, the dark presence grew closer. Rakham's group formed a circle, and the Revenant prowled around them, just out of reach. He spoke into his communicator, addressing his gathered allies.

"Pull out the stops now, or we aren't gonna make it out of her!"
"Don't worry, sir, we've got a surprise for these bastards." The Mandalorian captain replied. "Buy us just another second, if you can."
"You heard the man, give it everything!"

They did. Lightsabers became spinning cages of destruction around the Templars, and the Force flowed from their hands, punishing the Revenant. Suddenly, with a thunderous sound, the Mandalorians revealed their wildcard; two tripod mounted turbolasers. They turned Revenant fighters to paste, and came uncomfortably close to doing the same to Templars several times. Then, as suddenly as it had began, it was over.
All of the Templars were exhausted, but Nova was dying, quickly, and Stikes knelt over her. Three Mandalorians rushed over to them, and after one of them quickly examined her, he nodded to the other two, who lifted her and took her outside where their combat medic could attempt to stabilize her. Stikes made as though he wanted to follow, but as the dark presence loomed, he thought better of it and made toward the center of the room where his comrades gathered. A Mandalorian seemed to be arguing gently with Sahka, tugging on her arm, until Dala ordered the Barabel to go with him and see the medic.
As Sam approached the group, they realized that they hadn't seen him the whole fight, but the metal top piece of his staff had been removed and was now in his right hand.
"Their leader tried to escape." He said as explanation. "It's time for you to leave. This is just one branch of a much larger organization, and they're going to be very, very angry when they find out what happened here. I would consider recruiting."
"We're not leaving you here to deal with our mess alone, Sam. We'll face him with you."
"You're not leaving me to deal with your problem, you're going to regroup so that later you can help me to deal with the Galaxy's problem, now get out of here, and leave me that shuttle!"

Rakham knew better than to argue with the old man any further, and the Templars and their mercenary companions hurriedly boarded the transport.
"I don't like this, Rak." Nadia protested as the two of them walked up the ramp.
"None of us do, but Sam knows what he's talking about. He might be the greatest Jedi who ever lived, and I trust his judgment."

As the transport lifted off the ground, a door flew open at the end of the body-strewn great hall.
"You sent my toys away, didn't you?" The silky voice almost sounded like it came from within Sam's head.
Sam placed a thumb on his lightsabers chrome switch, and a purple blade flared to life.

...

The entrance to the Archive was sealed, and Berra sat on the ground, her hood up, a cup of steaming tea in one hand, and the hilt of her saberstaff in the other. Strung across the stone pad in front of her, six vivisected bodies with tattooed faces.

...

Nova and Sahka were strapped to beds in the transports small infirmary before it even left the ground. Sahka had fallen unconscious before reaching the ship, and her body was going into shock. Nova was in no better shape, and the combat medic was joined by Rakham and Dala, all three working as hard as they could as Anton staggered into the infirmary.
"I think this is worse than I thought it was, friends." He gasped, and collapsed to the floor, his hand falling from his stomach to reveal a charred puncture in his armor.

CHAPTER END

This one took me forever to get to paper for some reason. I hope it's up to standards!

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Remembrance and Conflict

   "...all that matters is one more step, one more shot, one more action." Berra's reader droid intoned it's deep, pleasant voice.
   "Thank you, R4. What was the title of that one, again?" The blind Templar asked, taking a sip of her tea.
   "Insights for a Broken Man, from the Collected Poems of Illyiss." The droid replied. "Would you like for me to continue with the next passage?"
   "Please do."
   As the droid continued, Berra enjoyed the cool morning air on her face. She'd spent most of her time sitting here outside the sealed Archive since the Revenant had attacked the Archives, waiting for an attack that fortunately had yet to materialize.

   As she sat and listened to Reader-4's rendition of Illyiss' classic work, she ruefully pondered the fact that she could "see" into the stars with enough concentration, but couldn't read the words on the holopad. She could sense the Masters' ship right now, having just come out of hyperspace when she sat down. She watched as it burned through the atmosphere and drew ever closer. After only a moment, she could hear the roar it made as it cut through their little moon's foggy skies, and she could feel that something had gone wrong; someone didn't make it back.

...

   The Funeral for Anton was, by tradition, brief. Afterwards, the Masters discussed with Berra how to move forward. She told them about the Revenant attack, and noted the advanced abilities of the attackers. The immediate fear was that Sahka had broken under interrogation, and a guard was placed on the room where she slumbered, her body attempting to recover from it's injuries. The Archive's defenses were unbreakable without tearing down the entire mountain when the entrance was sealed, so they weren't particularly concerned about another attack yet, and all they had to do now was recall the rest of the Order and wait for them to arrive.

...

   It took Dala a moment to recognize where she was. It was their quarters on the Fugitive, which had been docked at the Archive. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her husband, and an agonizing headache. Her memory came back in flashes.

   They'd arrived, held Anton's funeral and plotted their next moves with Berra. Afterwards, everyone who'd known him personally had, in Templar tradition, retreated to a lounge within the Archive and broken out Rakham's stash of liquor. It had only been the four of them, Rakham, Dala, Tasrii and Nadia, until the Mandalorian commander wandered into the room by mistake. She struggled to remember what had happened for a moment.
   "Deepest apologies folks, I didn't mean to intrude." The merc had immediately understood what was going on, but Rakham stopped him.
   "Wait. You lost comrades as well. Join us." He poured another glass of golden liquid for the Mandalorian, but asked a question before handing it to the Mandalorian. "What's your name?"
   "Marz, sir." The Mandalorian replied, removing his red helmet. Under it, he was surprisingly fresh-faced, with olive complexion, twinkling brown eyes and neatly trimmed dark hair. He accepted the glass.
   "Call me Rakham, Marz." He said, and began his toast.
   "For our brothers and sisters..."
...
   A different flash of memory, later.
   "No, no, no, there's no way you three've been around that long!" Marz exclaimed jovially, pounding a hand on the table for emphasis.
   "It's true! We were already adults by the time the Empire took over. There are a lot of little Force tricks hidden in these halls." Nadia said with a laugh, taking a swig directly from a bottle of Merenzane Gold. "All except for her. She's younger." She gestured towards Tasrii, who was quietly nursing a glass of Corellian whiskey. The memory faded out.
...
   "I'll never forget it. I've tried, and I've tried, and I've tried. Every time I close my eyes, I see their faces. On the ground in front of me looking up, nothing left in their eyes but raw, animalistic fear. I killed all of them." Tasrii slurred. "I killed all of them. I'm sick to godsdamned death of killing."
...
   A pocket sized holoprojector was in Marz' hands, displaying the face of a beautiful Mandalorian woman holding a baby. "This is my Kata, and little Joli. When I retire, we're gonna buy a plot of land on some quiet little world far away from all this, and raise him in peace. I keep telling her, one more job. Just one more job. Maybe this time, I meant it."
...
   "Our father was hard on us as children, but my brother, my Anton, he took the most of it. Shielded me from our father when he went into his rages, took the punishment so I wouldn't have to. He was the only person in the world who I..."
..
   "The first time I met Anton, I thought he might actually kill me." Rakham said, with a laugh, but his eyes were filled with tears. "Kadmaur had told me the password for the cantina, so the guard let me right in, and this was before it was a busy place. He's sitting at the bar, enjoying a drink, and..."

The flashes got briefer. The party breaking up. Rakham showing her... something in a dusty glass case deep within the Archive. The two of them crying together in a hallway, locked together in a hug. Then, sitting on top of the Fugitive, using the Force to clear an enormous gap in the fog so they could see the stars and talking about the old days. Stumbling down the ship's hallways and falling into their old bed. Clumsily making love. Then, blackness as sleep took them both.

   "Masters?" Berra's voice reverberated throughout the ship, her heavy boots clomping on the decks, both noises sending spears of pain through Dala's head. She tried to shout, but a dry croak was all that escaped her mouth. Suddenly, the door snapped open, and Berra stood there.
   "We're receiving a transmission from Sam. He says wants to speak with Rakham."
   "Goddess, Berra! We aren't clothed, you can't just invade our privacy like this!"
   "Master, I'm blind."

...

   The Masters, along with Tasrii and Berra, were assembled around the table. Nadia appeared to be in even worse shape than Dala, leaning on her elbows and holding her head in her hands. Tasrii lovingly rubbed her back, a concerned expression on her face. She and Rakham looked as bright and rested as any other morning.
   "Did I catch you at a bad time?" Sam's voice came from the holoprojector in the middle of the table. Nadia groaned in response, and Rakham answered.
   "Not at all, Sam. It's good to see you whole. What happened?"
   "What happened is you kicked a hornet's nest. This was a training facility for the Revenant. Most of the Dark Jedi you fought here were students. I would say that it looks like you made a serious dent in their organizations recruitment, but I've been looking into their records, and it appears that only one out of every ten or eleven recruits survives training anyway. I haven't been able to figure out how they track their targets, but it does say here that Sahka Tekk never told them anything. What they did to her was brutal, it's incredible that she survived at all, much less resisted their interrogation."
   "Sahka is strong." Tas said.
   "Are you planning to return the Archive, Sam? I can transmit the coordinates."
   "Not yet, I still have work to do. I'll transmit the information I've dug up here. Good luck, and watch your backs. I don't know what's next, but it won't be good."

   With that, the feed cut out.
   "Berra, where are we on the returning Templars? Has anyone checked in yet?
   "Well, since, in the infinite and unchecked wisdom of the Masters, they all got foolishly drunk and slept until 15:00 hours, almost everyone is here." The Miraluka replied with playful snark.
   "Watch it, Tarun. I seem to recall you coming perilously close to wandering off of the landing pad and falling to your death when we held Sahka's memorial."
   "Point taken, Master. How is Sahka, Tasrii?"
   "She's doing surprisingly well. Edda and Porin really helped her, she's awake now and ready to get out of bed. Nova is going to be okay as well."
   "Sahka gets her wish. Track down everyone, and have them assemble here. Including my brother. Berra, would you give the three of us the room for a moment?" Rakham spoke up.
   "Could you turn down the lights on the way out?" Nadia groaned.
   "And that's enough of that, I suppose. Come here, both of you." Rakham stood, and placing a hand on Nadia and Dala's shoulders, poured healing energy into them. "Alright, here's what I want to do..."

...

   Sixteen Templars plus Heditt had gathered. Sahka was in a wheelchair but very much conscious, and Nova was already back on her feet.
   "As you all already know, my brother Heditt came to us with information about a rival order, who he suspected of abducting Sahka Tekk. He, obviously, was correct, and we are eternally grateful to him for the information. We launched a rescue operation, storming their compound with the help of a company of Mandalorian mercenaries and rescued Sahka. In the process, Master Anton Stark lost his life." Rakham paused for a moment as the Templars saluted, pressing their left fists to their chests and bowing their heads.
   "Unfortunately, we underestimated the Revenant. What we assumed to be their base of operations was merely a training outpost. They have also managed to track down the Archive, and we don't know how. We aren't sure what's coming next, but we imagine it isn't going to be easy. Edda and Gra'porin have been preparing the Archive backup, and it will be ready to move within the next few days. Unfortunately, we don't have any idea where to take it. Our hope was that the temple exploration would lead us to a good place, but given the circumstances, that project is being put on hold. As it stands, we have to gather more manpower, and we must prepare for the eventuality of a war against the Revenant. That brings us to our next subject, which I'll let Dala handle." He finished, and took a seat as Dala stood.
   "The council has discussed the matter, and we've decided that Berra Tarun is to take Anton's seat on the council, and she is given the rank of Master and position of Knight-Commander of the Templar Order. It will be her responsibility to prepare the Order for battle, a task we believe she is well suited to." Dala said, pausing as Rakham had as the Templars saluted again. "Furthermore, we are inviting Heditt Crescentfall to join our Order. He is an experienced and wise Jedi, and should he accept, he'll make a fine addition to our ranks."
   Heditt considered for a moment, before shaking his head.
   "I apologize, deeply, but I swore I'd never join another Jedi Order. I would be honored if you'll allow me to stay by your side and fight with you, but I will not take your oath."
   "We understand. We're happy to have you around anyway." Dala replied. They'd expected that response. "The next order of business is something we've historically avoided. We need allies. We need fresh blood. We need to recruit. We few cannot stand against the Revenant alone. Nadia, if you will."
   "There are other Force-adept organizations in the galaxy, and many free agents. I want to see a concerted effort to contact as many of them as possible. About half of us will be seeing to that task, and the other half will be directly under the command of Master Berra. Those of you chosen to work with the Knight-Commander will be the start of our defense force. Tasrii, Sahka, Rawbacca, Nova, Stikes, Teks, and Faradi, you're with Berra. I recommend acquainting yourselves with the Mandalorians, you'll be working closely with them. I want all of our healers to assist Nova and Sahka, get them into fighting form as soon as possible. Everyone else, start making contact with anyone you know who could be of use to the Order. You've all heard the sales pitch, so go out and make it. Have any interested party report back here, to me. I'll be handling the new recruits. You're all dismissed."

...

   Rakham stood in front of the glass case again, his hand hovering over the latch. The artifacts inside it buzzed with a power, and he had a healthy respect for that sort of power. Finally, he flipped the catch and let the glass swing open. As his hands came to rest on the mask, visions flashed before his eyes, and he fell to his knees, gripping the mask tightly. He saw images of war, on a dozen different planets at a dozen different times, and power surged into his hands.

   It's good that you know war, he thought as the visions faded. because I have one more for you.

CHAPTER END


I have an offer for all you other writers. If anybody has characters in the 4-8 ABY range and would like to see them throw their lot in with the Templars, shoot me a message and we can talk about a collaboration. If nobody does, that's cool too!

This chapter was brought to you by the letter P for Procrastination and the Number 12 for Redbreast 12 Yeear Old Cask Strength Irish Whiskey. Hope you all enjoy it!

CHAPTER 16: Less Elegant Weapons
PART 1
   The interior of the bright blue hovercar was packed uncomfortably tight as it wove through the thick traffic of Coruscant. Half a dozen Mandalorians in full combat gear and armor were packed into the back, alongside Sahka Tekk, who was looking dangerously close to biting at the elbows poking her in the ribs. In the front, Marz sat with Rawbacca, a quiet Wookie Templar.
   Apart from Sahka’s wordless but incessant grumbling, the cab was quiet as the mercenaries did their final weapon checks. This was meant to be a simple weapons buy, but it didn’t take Force intuition to tell that the Mandalorians expected trouble. They were headed to a private hangar in an upscale district. Once there, they’d take control of a freighter loaded with Verpine Shatterguns; a nasty surprise for the saber-wielding Revenant. Eventually, the silence was broken.
   “How far?” Sahka asked.
   “Only a few minutes, boss. Everybody clear on the plan?” Marz replied.
   “We land this matchbox, get onto a slightly bigger matchbox full of guns, pay the slimy man and leave.” Sahka shot back sarcastically.
   “And?”
   “And, this one will use the Force as a trite lie detector to further ensure we aren’t being cheated.” The grumpy Barabel said, before softening her tone as much as she was able. “This one is sorry for being irritable.”
   “I understand, don’t worry. And look, we’re coming up on the hangar now.” Marz pointed out the viewscreen towards a tall building ahead of them.

…

   Nadia and Tasrii were in the cockpit of the Fugitive, slowly cruising around the Orn System, which contained the Archive and not much else. Archive sensors had detected something entering the system a few hours ago before promptly vanishing, and they were trying to find it using the aftermarket high-powered sensors the freighter was equipped with.
   “Anything?” Nadia said. It was one of the few words she’d spoken since they’d launched, indeed, since Anton had died.
   “Not yet.” Tasrii replied. They both knew that an alert would sound when they finally found what they were looking for, and Tasrii could sense the turmoil within her partner. “Nadi, do you want to talk?”
   She was silent for a long time, but reached for Tas’ hand, grasping it in her own. Silent tears began to run down her face, and Tas gently rubbed her hand, her own heart breaking at the pain her lover was in. Finally, Nadia spoke, her voice cracking.
   “He was bad, Tas. I saw him do things that… He killed. He tortured. And he made me kill, and torture, and steal. He made me as bad as he was.” She choked.
   “But he was your brother, and you loved him anyway.” Tasrii’s reply was gentle and understanding. Nadia nodded her head fervently, biting back a sob. Tasrii stood, and drew smaller woman to her feet, wrapping her tightly in her arms. “You aren’t bad, Nadi.”
   “I am, Tas.” She said, her face pressed into the taller woman’s chest as the sobs finally came.
   “I love you, Nadia Stark.” Tasrii said quietly to her, and they stood there just like that for a long time, the stars shining through the viewport behind them, until finally, the ‘ping’ of a sensor alert filled the cockpit.

…

   The hangar was lit with brilliant white light, and the small freighter loaded with shatterguns was old, but remarkably well cared for. Standing around it were a dozen armed guards, and a sharply dressed, impeccably groomed man stood at the loading ramp with the poise and bearing of a high ranking officer.
   “Alright, gents, let me do the talking.” Marz said, as the group piled out of the hovercar and took up a relaxed but ready formation around it. Marz and the two Templars approached the man.
   “Vergio, how the hell have you been?” Marz said jovially, extending his hand.
   “I don’t want to hear it, Arronak. I know you played us on the Naboo job.” Vergio, the sharply dressed man, said in an imperious tone. He stood a full head taller than Marz, and used that to his advantage, glaring grimly down at the Mandalorian.
   “Come on, Verge, he was just a kid. Besides, the Empire’s gone now, isn’t it? It’s the dawn of a new day in the galaxy!” Marz pleaded with him, maintaining his amicable tone. Vergio just sighed and lowered his head, rubbing his brow. The man suddenly looked very tired.
   “Very well. We have the weapons. Do you have the credits, is it your intent to rob us yet again?”
   “That’s up to my client. Madame Tekk?”
   “Yess. Upon inspection of the weapons, to ensure your guarantees, this one’s associate will transfer to you the credits you’ve been promised.” Sahka said, with a toothy grin that was far more intimidating than reassuring.
   “That’s acceptable.” He said with a look of distaste for the Barabel, and stepped aside. “Please, inspect away.”

   Sahka clomped up the ramp, still not entirely accustomed to her prosthetic leg, and took a look around the hold. Her tongue flicked out from between her teeth a few times, tasting the air. She’d sensed no deception from Vergio, but his disdain for non-humans had been clear, and she felt obligated to inconvenience him as much as possible on behalf of her species. Walking over to one of the crates, she popped the latches and opened it. Ten Verpine Shatter Rifles, sitting in neat racks. Another crate contained five of the rare sniper rifle variant, and yet another held fifteen pistols. There were at least a dozen such crates in the small hold; far, far more than enough to suit the Order’s needs.
   “Master Rawbacca, pay the.. gentleman.” She half said, half hissed, descending the ramp. They still had much to do. They would be taking the shipment to the spaceport where they’d left the Mandalorians’ ship, then unpacking the weapons and loading them onto that ship before departing to ensure that the provided vessel wasn’t being tracked. It was likely going to be hours before they’d manage to leave Coruscant.

…

   The Orn system was comprised of four planets orbiting a yellow dwarf star. Of these planets, two were molten rocks, entirely uninhabitable due to their proximity to the star. The third planet, creatively known as Orn 3, was a gas giant orbited by half a dozen moons. One of these nameless moons was home to the Archive. The fourth and final major celestial body was an icy planetoid, and it was on an asteroid orbiting this faraway planet that the sensors had pinged.

   As the Fugitive approached, they could see the object with their own eyes. It was an RTF-3 Mobile Reconnaissance Station; essentially, a listening platform with a hyperdrive engine. These hadn’t been used by any major galactic military in quite a while, but they were still effective, and, importantly, capable of hiding entirely from sensor scans.
   “Nadi…” Tasrii started to speak.
   “Something isn’t right.” Nadia finished for her.
   “I don’t sense anyone on board.”
   “Neither do I. We need to suit up and investigate.”

   They set the Fugitive down a safe distance from the RTF-3, and vac sealed their armor; the suits did not hold very much air, but they were designed for situations exactly like this one, where fifteen minutes was more than enough. They picked their way carefully across the surface of the asteroid, and, surprisingly, found the airlock door open on the reconnaissance craft. A knot was beginning to form in Tas’ stomach; something was very wrong here. She asked Nadia the question with nothing more than a tilt of her her head.
   Should we go inside?
   We might as well. Nadia replied with a shrug, and they made their way up the ramp into the airlock. Tasrii hit the activator with a closed fist, and the door snapped shut behind them. They drew their lightsaber hilts without activating them and shared a concerned look as the chamber filled with air.

   The door in front of them opened with a hiss. The chamber before them was exactly what was to be expected; there were surveillance readouts and panels lining the walls, but, strangely, no sign of life or any disturbance. Nadia was passingly familiar with the craft; she and Anton had sold a couple of them to a Hutt back in the day. There were four rooms on the ship. The biggest was the one they stood in, then there was a cockpit ahead of them, cramped sleeping quarters with bunks for four crew to the right, and an engine room under them. They stepped forward into the main room, and as the door snapped shut behind them, a dark presence revealed itself, hitting both of the Templars like a brick wall. They activated their sabers in unison, frigid blue glow fighting with blood red for dominance of the dim room.
   “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Tasrii said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, and stepped forward, raising her saber into a guard.
   “Don’t talk like that, love.” Nadia replied, stepping up to stand by her side. Without warning, the door ahead of them hissed open, and a figure appeared.

   He was tall, and one side of his face was covered in tattoos, a complex chain of crimson circles. His head appeared to be shaven entirely, eyebrows included, but he wore a hood so it was hard to tell for sure. His eyes burned a sickly yellow, and his skin was pale and sagging. Each hand held a long gilded lightsaber hilt, but he did not activate them, not yet.
   “You’ve been naughty girls.” His voice was mockingly playful and sinister, and seemed to ring inside the Templars’ skulls. He punctuated his words by activating his lightsabers one at a time, each long silver blade coming to life with a gentle cry. “The Master will show you the error of your ways, little Templars.”

   Tasrii was the first to move, bringing her saber to a high guard and stepping forward. Before she could set her forward foot down, a wall of electricity hit her. She collapsed to her knees as the Force Lightning coursed through her, her jaw working in an unbidden attempt to cry out in pain. No sound came, until after what seemed like an eternity to Tas but was likely not even a split second, Nadia responded with lightning of her own, distracting the Revenant Master. He caught the electricity on his saber, but as she heard the weak cry of pain escape Tasrii’s lips, Nadia screamed in rage, charging forward. Her red saber was a blur as she attacked, landing rapid attacks that forced her foe to take a defensive position, but it wasn’t enough, and with a sound like thunder, a blast of Force slammed into her chest, and she flew across the room, crashing into a display panel and slamming her helmet against a bulkhead.
   By that time, Tasrii was on her feet, her hands shaking but her resolve strong. She allowed the Force to flow through her body, steadying her grip as she activated her saber again. The Revenant was striding towards her, languidly spinning his sabers in circles.
   “My name is Arius.” He said cooly.
   “I don’t give a shell!” Tasrii snarled back, bringing her guard up as he circled her.
   “That’s fair enough. I simply don’t like to be impersonal when I take a life.” He said, and lunged forward, thrusting with one saber and swinging the other at Tas’ helmet. She sidestepped and sent a Force push at him, causing him not quite to stumble, but forcing his to reconsider his footing.
   “You won’t be taking a life today!” Tasrii shouted, bringing her saber around in an uppercut, but before it could make contact, the lightning returned, again bringing her to to her knees, where she knelt, panting.
   “Perhaps I have already.” He said with a small laugh. “Your friend…” He took a moment, searching her feeling in the Force, and an evil grin spread across his face. “Sorry, your lover over there doesn’t seem to be doing too well. I may have played a bit too rough. It’s a shame; I’d have loved to make the two of you watch one another suffer.”

   He took a step towards Tasrii, and as she tried to stand, he electrocuted her once again. He reached out with the Force and snatched the lightsaber from her hand, casting it aside.
   “You’re going to die, Templar.”

   He placed his sabers back on his belt and reached out savagely with the Force, grasping Tas entire body and holding her in place. She attempted to struggle and fight, but it did no good. She was held tight, and he walked towards her with purpose. He put the palm of his hand on her forehead, and dug into her mind. It wasn’t like the merciful probe Rakham given her so many years ago when she’d snuck up on him on Tattoine, this was rough, brutal and invasive. He tore through her memories like a rusty blade through flesh. Soon she couldn’t even tell which memories he was sifting through, she only knew she couldn’t survive much more of it.
   Finally, he found what he was looking for, and released her. She collapsed into a heap on the floor, unable to move, drifting in and out of consciousness rapidly. Across the room, she could see Nadia, who didn’t seem to be in any better condition. She was vaguely aware of Arius’ voice across the room, speaking into a holofeed.
   “I found something. Coruscant. Hangar 22-F807.”

   Then, the sound of footsteps, until he came back into view in front of her.
   “Well, Tasrii Kepressa, I can’t say I’m impressed. Let’s finish this up.”
   This time when the lightning came, she mercifully blacked out.

…

   Sahka’s long forked tongue was flickering nearly constantly in and out of her mouth as she looked nervously around the hangar. Something was wrong, she was sure of it.
   “Marz!” She shouted to the Mandalorian, who was halfway across the hangar, overseeing the last of the cargo loading. He winced in pain.
   “Sahka, we have commlinks.” His voice came through the one stuck in her ear. “What do you need?”
   “Sorry, this one forgot. We need to leave soon, this one has a bad feeling.”
   “Alright, we’re on it. You heard her lads, get this wrapped up double-time.”

   Marz’ ship was named Narudar, a Mando’a word meaning ‘enemy of your enemy’ or ‘temporary ally’, something he considered to be a sly reference to his profession. It had been built for his father when Hit Squad was first founded, and she was not a vessel to be trifled with. With a one hundred and twenty meter ‘V’ shaped fuselage, it was armed with six blaster cannon turrets, placed on the top and bottom at each point of the fuselage, a dozen torpedo tubes, a bomb bay, two turbolasers on the underside, a powerful tractor beam and probably a dozen other sneaky weapons known to no one but the bridge crew and the gunners. Internally, it had cramped, utilitarian living space fit for one hundred mercenaries, storage space for carrying small amounts of high value cargo and a speeder bay.
   All in all, it was plain to see that the Narudar was not a vessel to be trifled with, and that’s why it was so strange that, as they made their way out of Coruscant’s gravitational pull, a passing light freighter fired something at their hull. Alarms went off on the bridge immediately, signaling that something had made impact.
   “Go to battle stations and give me a damage report!” Marz ordered from his position on the bridge.
   “No damage sir, I think it was a tracker.” The pilot replied.
   “Get me a scan on that freighter. Who are they?”
   “They aren’t transponding anything, it doesn’t look like New Republic.”
   “Alright, go to hyperspace, but drop out before we hit the Archive. Let’s see who follows us.” Marz ordered as the ship’s lights went red and a message in Mando’a emitted from speakers across the ship. Within seconds, every weapon and emergency station was manned.
   “What is happening?” Sahka asked, bursting onto the bridge.
   “Someone appears to have pegged us with a tracker. We’re going into hyperspace, leading them away from Coruscant, then we’ll see what the meaning is. Please, return to your quarters and see to it that Master Rawbacca does the same.” Marz replied, never looking up from his instrument panel. Sahka thought about protesting, but remembered that the Mandalorian knew what he was doing aboard his own ship, and she most likely did not. As the door slid closed behind her, the viewports were filled with the blue vortex of hyperspace.

…

   Nadia blinked, over and over again, trying to get the haze out of her vision. She was almost certainly concussed, but that didn’t matter as she watched the electricity arc from Arius’ hands down to Tasrii’s limp form. He seemed to get frustated as she failed to respond, but Nadia’s vision went black again. She shook her head, and her blurred vision returned. It felt like she was encased in molasses as she tried to stand, and she didn’t quite make it to her feet before collapsing again. She watched helplessly as Arius used the Force to drag Tasrii into a sitting position and undo the clasps of her helmet. Tasrii came awake with a gasp as the helmet was snatched off her head.
   “Good. It really is better if you’re awake.” Arius said, his tone unsettlingly upbeat. He drew a vibroblade from his belt and knelt. “Now, this’ll only hurt a.. Little.” He brought the humming blade to Tas’ cheek, and suddenly, Nadia’s mind went crystal clear. Hatred flowed through her veins like red lightning, and she sprang to her feet, her muscles empowered by the Force. Her entire body crackled with electricity as she strode across the room silently and wrapped her slender hands around Arius’ head, her fingers digging into his eye sockets, and slammed his head against the floor. There were bright red blisters on his head and face where she’d laid her hands, but she didn’t waste her momentum, immediately leaping onto his chest and wrapping her hands around his neck. His back arched as electricity flowed through his nervous system, and his eyes went wide as his brain struggled for oxygen.
   She slammed his head into the floor, again and again, never loosening her grip. She continued even after the life left his body, caving his skull in.
   “Nadi.” The voice sounded far, far away.
   “Nadia.” It was closer, but sounded weak.
   “Nadi!” Finally, Nadia snapped out of her rage, concern flooding her mind. She spun around and faced Tasrii.
   “I think he’s dead.” The Zabrak said with a wry smile. Her face was gaunt and pale, but she was alive.

...

CHAPTER 16: Less Elegant Weapons
PART 2
“That’s… not what I expected.” Marz said in as understatement for the ages. Outside of the viewport, three Carrack-class light cruisers were barrelling towards the Narudar[/]. “Shields up, engines full power. Try and hail them. Gunners, prepare Doomsday, but stick to primary weapons until my mark. Navigator, prepare for Doomsday protocol as well.”
“No answer to our hail, Commander.”
“Alright, so be it. Let’s do this thing.”

To an observer, the battle that followed would have seemed very, very one sided. The Carrack class cruiser was a vessel in a league of it’s own, tougher, more dangerous and more agile that any other ship it’s size, and in groups they could take down vessels many times their size. Facing down three of these ships, a tiny MandalMotors Corvette.
At first, the Narudar held her own. The Carracks may have been fast, but she was faster, and the smaller ship zipped around them, blaster cannons and turbolasers roaring as they strafed the larger ships’ weapons and repulsor drives. However, the Narudar[/] paid dearly for every hit she landed, taking one in return each time. The harder they fought, the more obvious it became that the Mandalorians were losing.
To the professional eye, it could be almost be made out that the Narudar was baiting her targets, herding them into positions that her commander chose. However, that notion would be discouraged by the fact that as the Mandalorian ship bobbed and weaved, begging the other ships to turn towards her, it was making it even easier for them to hit the small ship, forming a perfect cone of fire, with the lager ships forming an inward facing semi-circle, with the smaller ship in the middle. Of course, if that hypothetical professional could see the maintenance droid on the hold, clinging to the tracker that had been placed there for all it’s life but not releasing it into space, or heard Marz’ next order, he may have realized that there was more to this fight than there seemed to be.

“Initiate Doomsday.”

The first thing that happened; the tracker was released into space, and the little droid darted back inside the ship. The second; every torpedo tube fired at once, three Proton torpedos arcing towards each Carrack’s bridge. The third; two packages were released from the Narudar’s bomb bay. The first package was a prototype smokescreen device developed by a Hit Squad engineer. When it detonated, it would scatter hundreds and hundreds of flashbombs, each of which would detonate with a blinding burst of light and an ion pulse capable of confusing both enemy sensors and eyes. The second package was much more insidious. It was a cluster of seismic charges, most likely capable of destroying every ship in the battle. The fourth, and final action of the Narudar; at the moment the Smokescreen device detonated, the ship lept into hyperspace.

Every step of the Doomsday protocol happened in the space of a second and a half, and as such, no one aboard the Narudar would find out what happened to the thee Carrack Class cruisers. However, the show that they missed was quite impressive. The proton torpedoes did their job of hammering the shields of the cruisers. The detonations had blinded the bridge crews and weakened the shields to the breaking point. The subsequent Smokescreen detonation both scattered the sensor arrays of the ship and served to dazzle any onlookers who hadn’t been temporarily blinded by the proton torpedoes. At that moment, the [i}Narudar left the fight, but there were no sensors to read that, and no one to see it, and the tracking device still floated in between the three ships. Their positioning made them a perfect target for the final detonation; the seismic charges. The effects were devastating. The forward portion of each ship was crushed completely, leaving only the rear halves intact, and the force of the blast scattered them, flinging the debris deep into space.

…

Nadia and Tasrii were sitting on the floor of the reconnaissance station, leaning on one another and trying to regain their strength when the door hissed open. They both grabbed their sabers immediately, but breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Mandalorian armor, the Mandalorian mercenaries sweeping the craft with machine-like precision as Berra and Stikes swept into the room behind them. They were safe.

…

The Narudar was looking a lot worse for wear as she sat down on the Archive landing pad, but casualties had been minimal, and morale was high as the mercenaries carried their new weapons down the ramp. Inside the Archive, Tasrii and Nadia floated in Bacta tanks, and a somber conversation was being held by the remaining Masters.

“We don’t know for sure that it was the Revenant who attacked the Narudar, but it’s a safe assumption.” Dala said.
“And there’s no doubt about what happened to Tasrii and Nadia. The Revenant laid a trap for us right outside our front door just to prove they could, and we got lucky that a Master was sent to investigate instead of a Knight alone.” Berra added.
“And we still haven’t figured out how the Revenant found this place. We have to be more careful. From this point on, any expedition needs to be accompanied by me, Heditt, Sam or you, Berra.” Rakham said. “It’s clear that their best warriors are a match for our own.”
“It’s more important now than ever that we gather our allies.” Dala said.
“You’re right. There’s someone I need to call. Someone from a long, long time ago.” Rackham said with a small smile. “We’re going to win this thing, I promise you both. I even have a plan.”

CHAPTER END

CHAPTER 17: Prep Work

Edda looked grimly into the mirror in her quarters. Staring back at her were kind green eyes set in a Hapan face that had once been astonishingly beautiful, but was covered in horrible burn scars from below her nose down. Even all these years later, the sight still took her back to the day her ship had crashed on Varris XII. She’d lost everything then, but on that planet she’d eventually found a new life that was just as fulfilling as her old one. A smile came across her face, but vanished as her eyes landed on the lightsaber sitting beside the sink.
Rakham has given it to her that night after inviting her, Stikes and Porin to dinner with himself and Dala.
I built this during one of the times in my life when I was challenged most. He’d said. I know that you prefer to avoid violence, Edda, and that’s why I think it’s appropriate that you have this. It was born of desperation, and should only be used in case of desperation. The days ahead may push us all past the limits we’ve set for ourselves.

A heavy feeling formed in the pit of her stomach as she picked up the metal hilt. It had very obviously been cobbled together from disparate parts. The emitter was a blackened exhaust tip with round vents drilled around it, moving down to a heavily worn focusing chamber that was striped black and yellow, possibly originating from some piece of heavy machinery or a guard rail. Below that, the body of the saber was formed by a corroded black tube with grooves running down most of it’s length. The pommel, which anchored the crystal assembly, was formed by an old sprocket that showed somewhat less wear than the other parts, but was obviously well used.

She was a pacifist by code, just like her old friend Gra’porin, but the masters had insisted that she keep some method of defending herself on hand. She had to admit, she like the feeling of the lightsaber in her hand, but the idea of actually using it turned her stomach.
A glance at the time was enough to end her pondering. It was midnight, and that meant it was time. After running a hand through her wildly unkempt but thankfully short hair, she donned a dark cloak over her black robes and hung the saber from her belt. Stikes and Porin were waiting in the hallway. Stikes greeted her with a disarmingly boyish grin, and Porin yawned. He was an old man, after all, and he needed his rest.
“You ready?” Stikes asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Absolutely.” Edda responded, her voice rasping from the old burns as she pulled up her hood.
“The guard changed ten minutes ago. As long as everybody stays in their beds, we should be good to go.” Stikes said as they marched swiftly but quietly down the hallway.

As they ducked through the empty dining hall and came out into the great hall, they came face to face Choh’leni, a heavily tattooed Twi’lek Templar with green skin.
“You got ‘em, Stikes?” Choh’leni asked.
“Don’t worry Cho, I can handle these two angels. Just make sure nobody sneaks up on us who isn’t in on the scheme.”
The trio took a look around the Great Hall. The lights were dim, and Edda was almost blind, her Hapan eyes not accustomed to low light. That perhaps was a mercy, as Rakham and Tasrii were rapidly undoing the painstaking work she and Porin had done organizing the Archive Backup.
They were making their way around the room, Rakham emptying the contents of the crates into sacks as Tasrii replaced them with blank holocrons and datapads.
“You know, Master, if we didn’t already own this I would say it’s one hell of a smooth heist.” Stikes said. Porin merely shook his head, a disappointed groan escaping his lips as he took in the destruction of their efforts.
“Sorry, Porin, but we don’t have much time, and this is better than losing the Backup altogether.” Tasrii said in an attempt to reassure the elderly Wookiee that seemed to have little effect.
“I need you three to start carrying these bags to the Fugitive. Don’t worry, it’s all clear out there.” Rakham said, and the three obliged.

The plan was simple. Ever since the Archive had been attacked the first time, the Masters feared a leak. They all hated the idea that one of their own comrades could be responsible, but that didn’t change the fact that it was the most likely answer.
The first part of the plan was simple; the Mandalorians, who, despite their exemplary performance, could not have their loyalty guaranteed against an enemy like the Revenant where given the night off. Instead, a handful of Templars who were above suspicion took over guard duty. Using this window of opportunity, the Backup was to be replaced with a fake, unknown to all but a few. The real backup was to be spirited away to the planet Oros, where it would be hidden until things calmed down enough to construct a second Archive.

It took two hours of running back and forth between the Fugitive and the Great Hall to move the entirety of the Backup, but finally it was done, and Stikes was warming up the ship’s engines to leave.
“Do you think this is going to work?” Faradi, a Twi’lek Dark Jedi with hardened features and a scarred face asked Rakham as the pair stood alone on the landing pad, watching the ship.
“I hope so.” Rakham replied.
“I still think you should sent me with them.”
“Stikes can handle it. We’re going to need you tomorrow. I have a feeling that task is going to require a firmer hand than many of us have.”
Faradi flashed a smile at the perceived compliment, several gold teeth glinting between green lips.
“I can’t believe you’re going to miss the party.”
“We have allies arriving tomorrow night, it’s important that Berra and I be here to greet them, otherwise I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

...

Part two of the plan was even simpler than part one. Load the ‘Backup’ onto the Narudar, cram the ship with mercenaries and Templar warriors and shoot the whole thing at a relatively nearby star system, and see what happened.

They were gone before noon, leaving Berra, Tasrii and Rakham at the Archive alone. So, naturally, Rakham and Tasrii decided to make the most of it. They spent the better part of the day sparring, and as it wound down, they eventually found themselves sitting with their legs dangling off the edge of the landing pad and a bottle of Corellian whiskey between them.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Rakham said after a few minutes of easy, comfortable silence.
“It’s just like the old days.” Tasrii answered with a smile, not needing to ask what he meant.
“Do you ever miss those days? Back on Oros?”
“Living here is amazing. The lives we lead, for the most part, are amazing. We’ve got everything we could ever want.”
“But?” Rakham pressed with a sideways smirk.
“But, I’d trade it all to go back to lifting boulders every day and living in Koloa huts.” She answered with a smile of her own. “That was the first place I ever was that felt like home.”
“I think I know what you mean.” Rackham’s smile stayed on his lips, but there was a familiar sorrow in his eyes. “Before the Purge, Heditt and I lived in an old warehouse on Coruscant. It was simple, but it was home. No matter where we went in the galaxy, it was always going to be there. Our things, our beds, our very own roof. After the Purge, it was was a long time before I learned to find that feeling in the people I loved instead of in a place.”
“Dala.” Tasrii stated the question as an assumption.
“Dala.” Rackham confirmed, the smile returning to his eyes as he took a sip of his whiskey. “Would you believe me if I told you she was the first serious partner I ever had? Before we fell in love, I had never felt about anyone the way I feel about her.”
“I had the opposite problem.” Tasrii said with a sad smile. “I loved, I loved with all of both my hearts, but I always loved the wrong people.” A bitter expression came over her face. “There aren’t a lot of Pit fighters who are... like me.”
Rakham put a comforting hand on his old friend’s shoulder.
“You found the right one eventually, Tas.”
“Yeah, it looks like I did.” She said, her smile returning, and downed her whiskey before pouring both herself and Rakham a fresh glass. “So, tell me about this old friend of yours.”
“She and I go way back, but I can’t tell you everything about her, because those secrets are hers and hers alone. You know that back in my Jedi days I helped people, especially Force-sensitives and Jedi, out of tight spots. Well, one day I ended up getting herded into a diplomatic party sent to Hapan. She approached me there and asked me to help her get to a safe place off-world. She was already powerful in the Force, so naturally I took her to the Jedi Council. She was a teenager, so the Council gave the same old song and dance about her being too old for training, and I was barely into my twenties, so my protests fell on deaf ears. That didn’t stop me from trying though, and believe me, the Council just hated getting yelled and sworn at by a twenty-one year old Knight. But, it all worked out for the best. I had contacts within a far more open-minded group of Force sensitives, and they were more than happy to take her in.” He stopped and drank deeply from his glass. “It’s funny, if I’d managed to convince the council to take her in, there’s a decent chance she’d be dead right now.” He finished, and gulped down his drink.
“That didn’t happen, Rak.”
“Not to her.” He said sorrowfully.

After a moment of silence, he placed his middle and index fingers to his temple suddenly, and closed his eyes in concentration. Suddenly, the omnipresent fog began to roll away, a long clear column forming in the grey clouds.
Tasrii watched as a brilliant sunset was revealed, the sky streaked purple and orange in in the small clear spot Rackham had created. He gasped as he released his grip on the Force, and opened his eyes. Orange light shone on their faces.
“Here’s to the ones who didn’t make it, Tas.”
“Here’s to them.”

They downed the last of their whiskey and watched as the fog rolled back in, almost as suddenly as it had been pushed away.

CHAPTER END

Special thanks to TDC for trusting me with his characters as well as the opportunity for this collaboration :)

So this chapter is dedicated to TDC ;D
**************************************************
Chapter 18: Friends, Old & New

Then…
As the door opened to admit the lone person in the hall, drops of blood began to pool on the floor as the teenage girl leaned heavily upon the wall. Even as her head rested upon her forearm, her eyes kept constant vigil along both sides of the hallway. It was blessedly empty. Her breathing faltering, she stumbled into her private chambers, almost colliding with the ornate Zsajhira table as she tried to get to her bed.

Or rather, what lay behind it.

Touching a button that only she knew to be there, the bed slid silently from the wall, exposing a darkened passage which led to a secure room. Incongruous with the ornate antique furniture of her bedchambers, the saferoom was ultramodern: it had emergency rations, several blasters with primed battery packs, numerous edged weapons, and—most importantly (at least for the moment)—a fully functional med-bay.

Slapping the button to close the door, she sealed herself into the room as she fell to her knees. Gritting her teeth, she pressed her closed fist against her abdomen to staunch the flowing blood. Simultaneously, she coerced the Force into Healing weaves by pure strength of will. And slowly she crawled the rest of the way to the medical pod, rising to her knees and with a final push, falling onto the table.

Immediately activated by the tactile contact of her olive skin, the med-pod began administering triage, injecting several syringes of poly-bacta, adrenaline, and amino-chains, all with the intent to fortify the body. The arms of the table carefully removed the blood-drenched clothes that clung to the wicked laceration that had opened her belly from hip-to-hip. Finally, the med-pod’s droid surgeon began its work, making micro-sutures joining capillaries, nerves, and stem tissues. She soon learned that their were even limits to anesthesia.

As waves of pain coursed through her, she knew that unconsciousness would fortunately take her. Most injuries could be fixed if not completely repaired but she knew that this one would forever scar her. And as the surgeon continued its work, tears of loss began to flow from her eyes. The would-be assassin had not been able to fulfill her task but she’d killed a part of her. She knew that no amount of skill, surgical or otherwise, would be able to repair her disintegrated womb.

But she was strong, stronger than anyone else knew. She would cry later, a lamentation to the furies for the loss that she would bear forever. But she would live.

Live…and no one would know of her plans until it was too late.

And as the oblivion of sleep took her, she smiled. Whoever had sent the assassin obviously did not know her. But they would. And they would say her name, either in reverence or in dread.

Il'liyanav Lana’A D'Aylanna Vih'Torr, Marquesa ta’a Chume.

            <<<<< >>>>>

Ta'a Chume'Dan was not a particularly large metropolis, its population numbering only a few hundred-thousand, yet the dealings that occurred and the people who made them influenced almost a trillion citizens within the Hapes Consortium. And all of them were subject to the empress Queen Mother, Ta’a Chume

Completely matriarchal, the House Royal Court was rife with political intrigue, aristocratic feuds, and assassinations, including regicide. Of course, this was all kept “in-house” and woe to the foreigner who voiced that such a spectacle could occur. Usually, these “alien dissidents” quietly disappeared, never to be seen again. And that was if they were lucky…

Aside from being matriarchal, Hapan sentiment concerning the Jedi was barely-concealed contempt at best and anti-Jedism at worst. Nevertheless, even the House Royal would entertain the occasional Jedi contingent on their annual political forays into the cluster. And after having received an audience from the Queen Mother herself, the Jedi were then unceremoniously shuffled to a minor dignitary and summarily forgotten. Having been on-planet for almost a week, the individual members of the Jedi delegation had gone off to engage in their own pursuits.

So, despite the fact that most Hapans considered a male Jedi to be only a half-step above a dog, Rakham had to admit that he’d had a good time considering he was surrounded by a bunch of man-hating, imperious tralks. As one of the courtesans of the Lux’x’l House filled his pipe with his favorite Cavendish blend, another one was filling his glass with some excellent native Agavinol t’Korish, so named for the time of distillery of the reigning Queen Mother, Empress Ni'Korish.

Good drink, good tabac, and the scenery was just to his liking. The courtesans of Lux’x’l House represented the best. And they should; they were endorsed by House Royal. The Queen Mother—may Her Radiance illuminate eternal—had lent her personal Seal as attestation of her approval. As such, the courtesans were amongst the most beautiful creatures in the galaxy, which was saying something as they were surrounded by Hapans. Rakham smiled; he hadn’t realized that most Hapan women had so many different colors for their—

He abruptly felt a hand upon his shoulder, one that didn’t belong to either of the two courtesans. At least, he didn’t think so; he knew that he’d had quite a bit of Agavinol to drink, so even as he mentally counted the tally—yes, that made five hands—he was half-convinced that he’d somehow gotten more inebriated than he thought possible. Of course, he hadn’t been this drunk since Nadia and Anton’s…

“Excuse me, master Jedi…” The voice that came from behind him was sonorous, if slightly…haughty? No, Rakham thought, that’s not quite right… “Stately” was the description that came unbidden to his mind, allowing him to recover at least some of his propriety as he steeled himself. Gently disengaging the arms of the courtesans, the tall Jedi Knight squared his shoulders and stood his full height. Whatever he’d expected, what greeted him wasn’t that.

Standing in front of him was a diminutive, exotic, and darkly beautiful young Hapan woman with the bluest lips he’d ever seen. …I wonder if she’s blue there too… the thought crossed his mind before the small sober part of him could bury it. Suddenly her dark eyes flashed, a dangerous look upon her face, almost as if she’d read his mind…

But instead, she shook her head, the look gone and replaced by one of concern. And determination. “Master Jedi…I am…that is, I require your help. Please.” The last word came out as almost an afterthought. Still, the sober part of him took notice. That…and something about the young woman’s demeanor. Very quickly, the effects of the Agavinol was giving way to his instincts, and they had almost never been wrong.

“…OK. I’m listening.” Rakham’s mind began to work and he found himself presented with what he already suspected was a conundrum. And if he was right: a complete clusterf—

“I…require sanctuary. Additionally, I must needs beg your indulgence concerning a bit of…dissembling.” She hesitated as if her breath were caught within her mouth. But then, having made a decision, she continued, the conviction in her voice unmistakable. “I…I am Force-sensitive. I…I would like the opportunity to learn from the Jedi.” Suddenly, her mask of confidence fell revealing the teenage woman-child that she was. “Please, master Jedi, please…I…I need your help…else my life is forfeit…” Unshed tears threatened to overwhelm her but she stalwartly continued. “Please…”

Rakham said nothing, the silence stretching minutes …Yep…a cluster— “I will help you if you tell me why a member of the Royal Court wants to escape.” Rakham saw her recoil slightly. …Ah, didn’t expect for me to recognize you, eh Marquesa…? Rakham’s sharp eyes saw her blue lips purse, a decision made…

“…I…one of my family attempted to kill me, sending an assassin…” She hesitated for a moment but Rakham was certain it had nothing to do with any weakness on her part. No, this young woman—girl he reminded himself—was anything but weak. Well…he’d heard the rumors…

“You don’t need to continue; I…I understand. Yes, yes I’ll help you, Il'liyanav…” And although he said the name almost as a whisper under his breath, the young woman hissed, instinctively looking around to see if anyone had heard him. As she did so, her small, delicate hand touched his. Just as soon as their skin touched, her body went rigid, her face impassive and her dark eyes blank. First squinting his eyes and then ducking his head to look her in the face, Rakham was about to shake her by her shoulders when she suddenly and almost violently inhaled. Looking around with her eyes, they suddenly came to rest upon his, staring deeply into them.

“…Thank you Knight Rakham, I am indebted to you. And please, do not ever mention that name again.” Her head sunk low, hiding her eyes from Rakham. After a moment, he was certain that she was silently crying. “…Il'liyanav is dead, the assassin successful with her work.” She suddenly raised her head, her eyes red but firm and full of resolve. “Please call me D’Aylanna.”

Rakham nodded, casually looking around. “OK…D’Aylanna. Don’t worry, I promise to help you. I’ll take you to Coruscant and bring you before the Jedi Council. You will be as safe as anyone can be.”

Visibly relaxing, D’Aylanna put a hand on Rakham’s elbow. “Thank you so much, Knight Rakham. And…I…can offer you remuneration. Please, take it as a token of my gratitude.” She emphasized the last as he shook his head, holding up his hands as if to refuse the proffered reward. “Please Knight Rakham.” Her eyes were pleading.

Looking down, Rakham realized that—for all of her eloquence, her assuredness, her strength—she was still a frightened girl. A voice in his head that sounded annoyingly like his brother Heditt reminded him that he’d not been raised to ever turn his back on a frightened girl in need…or deny her the courtesy of her dignity. “Alright, D’Aylanna. But c’mon, I have a better place to conduct our discussion.” Suddenly, a lopsided grin appeared on Rakham’s face. “Besides…this is no place for the Marquesa…”

As he led her out of Lux’x’l House, he realized that he must still be drunk; he had not remembered ever telling her his name or rank…

*************************
Now…
As Fenris’ Dirge emerged from the thick storm clouds, dropping low into the troposphere, D’Aylanna expertly piloted the Infiltrator through the rocky terrain, their destination on one of the high mountaintops capped with snow. “Mother…I’m getting no reading at all; no life signs, no technology, nothing…” Jorya’s voice sounded perplexed as she leaned over the instrument panel in the co-pilot’s seat. Next to her, D’Aylanna smiled knowingly, looking at her adoptive daughter from the corner of her eye.

“Trust me, Dear One, he’s here.” The small Hapan woman said distractedly, focusing on her stickwork as she hovered above the plateau’s flat surface. Finally, Fenris’ Dirge came to rest upon the natural dark, shale-like stone quay. Soon afterwards, the rear-hatch opened, both women jumping off the ramp before it made contact with the ground.

The lone sentry, a tall dark figure stood against the thundering backdrop of the gloomy mountainous terrain, his dark brown robes hooded. As Jorya approached she noticed that he was a big man, easily as tall as Master Karmack if not so wide as Father. But it was her Mother’s actions that truly shocked her.

Smiling warmly, the diminutive Hapan woman stopped for a moment in front of the tall man and then, uncharacteristically, flung her arms around his waist. A deep laugh echoed from within the hood as the man enveloped D’Aylanna in his arms, his hood falling off as he looked down at her. “I see that the years have been kind to you, Marquesa.” His fond tone was unmistakable as was the affectionate look in his eyes as he gathered both women to him and led them inside the ancient looking fortress of the Templars Archives.

            <<<<< >>>>>

“I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it to the wedding; no good excuse really other than Vader trying to kill me and Order 66 being enacted and whatnot.” Rakham said around his pipe, a wry smile upon his lips.

Joining them were the only two other Templars left in the Archive: Tasrii, a Zabrak and Berra, a rare Miraluka. Jorya noticed that within minutes of meeting, all three women had scrutinized, weighed, and measured the other, sizing each up and filing such information as only a perceptive, intelligent woman could do.

They liked one another other immediately.

While sharing anecdotes of themselves—punctuated by Rakham’s good-natured respective comments—Berra, Tasrii, and D’Aylanna carried on like fast friends.

“How is ol’ Zearic these days?” Rakham finally got a question in edgewise. “Knowing how you cook, probably fat, content, and doing ‘un-Jedi’ like things?” All five sat around a weathered but comfortable table, Rakham playing the consummate host with providing refreshments for all of them, though instead of the Hapan Pogam-Blood wine he’d provided the women, he’d poured himself some Agavinol and left the unstopped bottle within easy reach.

Jorya could not believe what she was hearing, moreso when she heard Mother give a hearty laugh. “My Shakal is well, Rakham. And was it not yourself that told me that a man who gains weight is the sign of a happy marriage?” D’Aylanna’s eyes reflected the smile that hadn’t left her face since the tall Templar had met them at the landing pad.

“No, I said that it was the sign of a ‘successful one.’ Otherwise, marriages the galaxy throughout would have ballooning spouses filling every planet from here to the Core.” Rakham looked sideways at Jorya, winking at her conspiratorially. “I’d always wondered who would be crazy enough to marry your mother. I’d even told her that she’d have to search the entire galaxy before she found someone that could understand her. Foolish me; it seems she went the opposite direction and went for someone ‘simple-minded.’”

Despite herself, Jorya laughed. She’d often heard Father doing his self-deprecations when joking and they sounded exactly like what Master Rakham was telling to Mother. Still, she felt that she should behave like a “proper” daughter and stand up for his character. “Master Rakham, my Father is one of the smartest people I know…” Jorya trailed off as the tall Templar burst out laughing.

“Don’t I know it?! That man somehow got your Mother to marry him! Now that’s a trick I’d like to see…” Shaking his head, he refilled the cup in front of him, chuckling softly. It was infectious and soon all five of them were doing likewise.

It was D’Aylanna that sobered them. “Rakham, I must say that it was an unexpected pleasure to hear from you especially after all of these years but you’ve been cryptic concerning your motives for asking us here. And as much as I would like to wax nostalgic and catch up, I know that you did not just call to see how that ‘girl you saved’ was doing.” Jorya’s eyes looked as if they were going pop out of her head; she’d never known anyone to speak to Mother like…and for her to… Jorya had thought she’d heard everything.

Rakham quickly disabused her of those considerations. “D’Aylanna…the Templars have run into trouble and, at least at this time, too much for us to handle alone…”

            <<<<< >>>>>

Rakham spoke throughout the night, relating of the Templar assault upon what they now knew was a Revenant training facility. He told D’Aylanna and Jorya everything: from the fact that a Revenant incursion was imminent to Sam’s intel to Anton’s death.

The last Rakham spoke of in hushed tones, his loss evident in his morose tone. Both Tasrii and Berra were silent but their faces spoke volumes of the personal loss they felt. D’Aylanna put her small hand upon his in sympathy. “My friend, for what it’s worth…my condolences…” D’Aylanna’s dark almond shaped eyes were full of concern and glanced at Tasrii and Berra, including them as well. Stoic, Rakham nodded his thanks but soldiered on.

And as they spent the night talking into the morning hours, he laid out a plan that was as audacious as it was brilliant…

…And D’Aylanna knew that she’d need some help of her own.

Chapter 19: Siege Perilous, Part I

“D’Aylanna, look out!” Tasrii’s voice echoed through the hall as D’Aylanna instinctively ducked, barely avoiding the two red sabers slashing through the air where her head had been seconds sooner. Having expected an easy kill from their ambush, the four Revenant Phantoms didn’t have time to fully recover. Grabbing her lightsaber from her belt, D’Aylanna ignited the weapon, the blade reversed from her Shien grip, impaling one of the Phantoms before he could retreat. When she rose to her feet, the Hapan Master ripped her blade upward, almost bisecting the Revenant.

By that time, Tasrii had joined D’Aylanna in the hall, engaging one of the surviving Revenants. Simultaneously, D’Aylanna called the fallen Phantom’s lightsaber to her hand, igniting it, the red blade joining her own purple. Before they could flank Tasrii, D’Aylanna had joined the much taller Zabrak, fighting back-to-back. As the three remaining Revenant surrounded the women, they finally got a clear look at their opponents: all had their faces hidden by a mask that only covered the left side, the right side of their faces covered with intricate lined tattoos. On their cheeks was an identical glyph in a different-colored ink, interwoven with the lines.

“Thanks Tasrii.” D’Aylanna said under her breath, bringing her blades in a defensive posture as two of the Phantoms approached.

“Don’t mention it.” The Zabrak’s grin turned feral as she engaged the Phantom, both working their lightsabers in an attempt to find an opening.

Her burgundy and silver skirts flowing around her armor, D’Aylanna’s defense was impenetrable, the Phantoms clearly outmatched despite their combined efforts. But D’Aylanna knew that more were surely coming. Bearing that in mind, she switched to the offensive, her attacks brutal, concise, unstoppable. As her blades scythed through the two Phantoms’ defenses, purple and red blades inexorable, her opponents’ limbs soon littered the hallway. Turning her head, D’Aylanna checked upon her companion, seeing Tasrii first separate the Phantom’s hand past the wrist and then decapitating her on the next orbit. Headless, the body fell heavily as the Zabrak woman quickly surveyed the situation.

“Beautiful saberwork.” D’Aylanna approached Tasrii, complementing the much taller woman. Bowing as she inspected the bodies, she looked for anything indicating the Phantoms’ origin. Finding several generic items—cryptonodes with a few credits worth on them, a retractable vibro-stiletto, several non-remarkable keycards—D’Aylanna instead focused on a small, silver-red book that every single one of the Phantoms carried. Giving it a cursory glance, she knew that she could not read the pictoglyphs within. “I need to find Jorya; hopefully, she’ll be able to read this…” D’Aylanna’s voice trailed off as she noticed the introspective look that the Zabrak woman gave the book.

“I…I’m not sure, but I think that I maybe recognize some of those symbols…” Tasrii’s face looked thoughtful as she squinted her eyes in concentration. Suddenly, she began to shake her head. “…I thought that I could read a few of the glyphs but… No, I…I’m not certain…” Tasrii looked down at D’Aylanna. “Sorry.”

D’Aylanna smiled. “Don’t be; I can’t even make out that much.” But what was really bothering her was the intrusion she felt assaulting her senses by Dark Side energies; as such, she had to concentrate. “We needs must find my daughter and Berra. I can’t raise either of them on comms…”

Tasrii nodded. “We’ll find them. Last I saw, they were fighting in the Courtyard.” Closing down her lightsaber, the Zabrak woman indicated the far doorway that she’d just come from. “This way D’Aylanna…”

            <<<<< >>>>>

After Rakham had woke them early the morning after their arrival, he had shown D’Aylanna and Jorya the Archive Vault where the Templars had stored the collected Force artifacts. As Rakham led them through the Vault proper, the two Gray Jedi were amazed. “…I knew that your Templars had been busy these past years collecting relics but I had no idea that your searches had been this…prolific.”

Rakham smiled a lopsided grin. “Well it’s not like we were fighting the Inquisitorious or blowing up Byss… Maybe you heard something about that?” He asked drolly. D’Aylanna laughed appreciatively and Rakham continued. “You’re right; the Templars have been busy. We’ve spent the better part of the decade researching, collecting, and storing some of the most dangerous items in the galaxy. Most people don’t even know about this room, much less its contents.” Rakham’s face grew deadly serious. “D’Aylanna, Jorya, I know that I can trust you both but I must insist that everything that you have seen here remain secret. Even from Zearic.” He emphasized the last.

Jorya looked suddenly uncomfortable. “…I understand Master Rakham…but I don’t like lying to Fathe…” She stopped, noticing the sardonic look on D’Aylanna’s face. “Mother?” Despite the fact that Jorya was much taller than the Hapan woman, she felt smaller.

D’Aylanna inhaled, her gaze raptor-like as she stared into her daughter’s eyes. “Jorya, sometimes there are things that you need to keep from your Father in order to protect him. This is one of those times, Dear One.” Her dark eyes were unwavering, her last a statement and not a suggestion. Jorya nodded in understanding. She then deliberately changed the subject.

“Master Rakham…have you recently been to Shili?” Jorya asked, suddenly serious.

Looking at her daughter, D’Aylanna’s brow furrowed. “Jorya…what is it?” Concerned, the Hapan Master gently put a hand upon Jorya’s shoulder.

Turning to her adoptive mother, the Togruta gestured to a stack of small metallic disks resting unremarkably on one of the shelves. “I…I think that these are some of the Shilian Force Talismans lost in the Fourth Epoch…” She stopped short, Rakham’s full-bellied laughter echoing within the Vault.

“No kidding?” Rakham’s grin was infectious. “A couple of us had been working on those a couple months back… Well D’Aylanna, leave it to your daughter to give us the answer we we’re looking for just by seeing them.” As he spoke, he rubbed his dark beard, his arms crossed. Turning his head to the Togruta, the Templar bowed his head. “Thanks Jorya. My brother owes me twenty…”

D’Aylanna’s proud smile reinforced Rakham’s praise, causing the normally unflustered Jorya to blush coyly. “Thank you Master Rakham. It…I was just…it was just luck.” Her blue eyes kept stealing back to the disks, her fingers twitching as if they were tracing the glyphs imprinted in the metal.

“Like hell.” Rakham pronounced, raising his eyebrows. “That was a fine observation.” He turned his head to D’Aylanna, whispering in a voice that could be heard halfway to Coruscant. “I think the Templars should hire Jorya to examine and identify all of our new acquisitions.” Casually he winked, opening his mouth to continue before an incessant pinging from his comm appropriated his attention. “Excuse me ladies. Rakham.”

The voice coming from his comm device was slightly tinny but clear enough. “It’s Sam; Rakham you’ve…got big trouble…coming your way. I don’t…know how but…the Revenant have…the Archive’s location. And…while they’re jamming…most frequencies I’ve…got a few tricks…up my sleeve to…fix that…” Rakham could almost see Sam’s smile in the silence. “Still: my…connection is sketchy…at best. Most reliable intel…I’ve got is that…there is a small…group of ships, maybe…about three or…four, which made…the jump to…hyperspace as soon as…they achieved orbital…altitude. This was a couple…hours ago; it’s…taken me all that…time just to establish…enough signal bounces…to circumvent the…jamming.” There was a string of curses before Sam continued. “I’m sorry, I…don’t know how…much time you’ve…got for—”

Rakham knew that he had his answer as soon as Sam’s transmission abruptly ended in static. …Soon… He thought.

“They’re coming. Let’s finish what preparations we can…” Rakham ushered the two women out of the Vault as he engaged the Archive’s lockdown protocols.

Meanwhile, D’Aylanna turned to her daughter. “Jorya, we needs must retrieve our armor.” She knew that their position was tenable but they would need every single advantage that they could get. Heading to the room that Rakham had provided them, both Gray Jedi donned their Charuba steel armor while preparing for the inevitable…

            <<<<< >>>>>

The attack had come just past local midnight, not that anyone could tell the difference given that the moon was covered by perpetual clouds, only some of them natural. There were four different craft, the likes of which none of them had ever seen, Templar nor Gray Jedi. They were alike enough that it was obvious they were the same manufacture but the similarities were superficial at best. Still, they must have known that their objective lay deep within the fortress because they lobbed a couple of concussion missiles towards the entrance, causing some considerable damage but only to the fortress frontage.

Helping one another from the rubble-strewn floor, Tasrii and Berran, D’Aylanna and Jorya, they all gathered in the Great Hall joining Rakham. Seemingly no worse for wear despite a small amount of blood running from a minor cut on his head, the tall Templar made certain that everyone gathered had fared better than him. “…They knew exactly when to hit us: almost all of the Templars are off-planet at the moment. My brother Heditt is overdue to return but…” He let the comment linger. Still, at least the Revenant had not yet penetrated the Fortress itself. Yet.

One thing immediately evident: the Revenant were blanketing the area with the Dark Side, temporarily creating a Force Nexus around the Templars Archive. Feeling the oppressive nature of the Force, Rakham spoke first, “I need to secure the Vault, and one item in particular…” Looking around the Hall, Rakham suddenly turned to D’Aylanna. “I need you four to stay here, or at least try to hold them off from penetrating further into the Archive…” He trailed off as the loud reports of breaching charges reverberated through the walls. Calmly assessing his options, Rakham was silent for a moment. “Well…we’ve collected, secured, or transferred off-planet most of the artifacts within our Treasury so you don’t need to worry about the Revenant absconding with anything.” He smiled wryly.

But almost immediately, Rakham turned serious. “There are only two routes to the Vault and both can be reached from the Great Hall. I’d suggest that we make our stand there, retreating if need be to pre-designated rendezvous points. D’Aylanna and Tasrii should take position at the entrance corridor; Berra and Jorya in the adjoining thoroughfare.” Another explosion—this one closer—resonated through the Great Hall. Despite that, Rakham remained calm and collected. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He looked at each woman in turn. “Be careful.” At a run, he disappeared down the adjoining corridor leading to the Vault.

Almost as soon as he’d gone, an explosion echoed from the nearest corridor. D’Aylanna turned to Berra and Jorya. “Dear One, mind Mistress Berra and watch her back. Mistress Tasrii, let us greet these Revenants in a manner that even they shall understand.”

By the deadly look and smile that spread on Tasrii’s face, she understood completely what D’Aylanna meant.

            <<<<< >>>>>

As Jorya’s Soresu deflected her opponent’s blade, she spared a look over at the Miraluka Templar. While she was surrounded by three Revenants, she was more than holding her own against them. Her skill with the lightsaber was yet another similarity that Berra shared with Mother.

Possessed of dark hair and olive skin, Berra was also incredibly beautiful. But beneath that beauty (and despite her youth) she had a backbone of durasteel; Berra had been fearless as soon as the five Revenant warriors had attacked them, quickly engaging three of them while Jorya took the other two. And while the parallels between Berra and her mother didn’t end there, Jorya was nevertheless amazed by the Miraluka’s saber mastery. Within two minutes, Berra had killed as many of her opponents while pressing the third hard.

Jorya turned her opponent’s blade from her face, forcefully reminding her that she still had yet to deal with her own enemy. And he was very good. Even as she tried to find any openings, the Revenant’s attacks were constant, his heavily tattooed face sneering as he battered away with his red blade against her purple and blue lightsabers. Just as she was sure that she had him, he directed a powerful Force Push at her, almost knocking her off of her feet. Quickly back-flipping away, Jorya was able to regain her defenses, once again bringing both of her lightsabers to bear.

And none too soon; her opponent was upon her, his savage attacks pushing her back. Glad that she’d paid attention to both her Father and Mother’s instructions, she was able to hold her own but just barely. Clearly this Revenant was a master. Even as the realization struck her like a physical blow she was forced to retreat. And in doing so, she faltered over one of the dead Revenant’s arms, body lying prostrate on the ground. It was a miniscule stumble but critical nonetheless. Taking advantage of it, the Revenant quickly jabbed out, punching Jorya square on her jaw. Falling hard, the Togruta fought to remain conscious, knowing that there was nothing that she could do if… When she looked up from the vantage of her back, she saw the feral grin on the heavily tattoed face, his saber raised to deliver a killing stroke.

“Nrrolt jebxat gridds…” His voice was gravelly while his eyes looked triumphant. And just as his arm was about to fall, his chest exploded outward, Berra’s blade impaling the Revenant from behind. Quickly withdrawing her lightsaber, she then cut off his head with a swift cut.

“Thanks…” Jorya exhaled, working her jaw, checking to see if it was broken. Thankfully, aside from the painful bruise that she knew would follow, she seemed to be OK all things considering.

Holding her hand out to the Togruta, Berra gave a small smile. “Just glad that I could get there in time. Sorry, that last one was as strong as a Wookie and twice as stubborn. To say nothing of the weight of the Dark Side…” The Miraluka helped Jorya to her feet, head swiveling as if listening to…something. Or perhaps “seeing?” Jorya’s experience with Miraluka was incredibly limited as was her knowledge of them. Suddenly, Berra stared straight ahead…at a solid wall. “…We’ve got to go, Jorya. Rakham needs us. These Revenant are like…children, sent to pester, keep us busy. The real danger is heading towards Rakham. And they know exactly where he is.” Berra turned her sightless gaze towards Jorya.

The Togruta nodded, gingerly touching her jaw. “Lead the way; I’ll keep trying to ping Tasrii and Mother with comms.” Reigniting her sabers, she tried several times—unsuccessfully—to contact either woman while Berra led them towards the inner sanctum and the Vault within…

Chapter 19: Siege Perilous, Part II

As Tasrii’s saber intercepted two of the red blades of Revenant Spectres, she quickly struck out, the heel of her foot connecting with one of the four opponents she faced, the hip of the Specter shattering under the power of her Force-strengthened kick. Simultaneously, she projected a powerful Force Push at the opposite Spectre, completely surprising him as he flew back, colliding with the far stonewall with a backbreaking thud. Flowing forward, she caught the remaining two red blades on her crossguard, the ice-blue plasma blades both protecting her hands and trapping her opponents’ sabers. Finally, as she riposted upwards, she knocked the two red blades high, exposing the Spectres as Tasrii made two swift cuts, cleaving the bodies of the Spectres apart. As their bodies fell heavily to the floor, the Zabrak exhaled a sigh of relief.

Turning towards D’Aylanna, she saw the diminutive Gray Master likewise holding her own. Fighting Jar-Kai, D’Aylanna’s saberwork had already made short work of three opponents, the final Spectre trying futilely to avoid her lightsabers but he was losing ground against her. Then almost instantaneously, her blades scythed through the neck of the Spectre, the body and head toppling in opposite directions. Echoing Tasrii, D’Aylanna breathed a sigh as she closed down both weapons, attaching her procured saber to her belt.

Tasrii joined the shorter woman, eyes vigilant as she surveyed her surroundings, the oppressiveness of the Dark Side Nexus continuing to adversely affect all of the defenders within the Archives. “Are you OK D’Aylanna?”

Shaking her head briefly, the Hapan Master added, “Yes but the severity of the Dark Side is stifling, making it difficult to think, to act…” What she didn’t add is that it also played havoc with her Force Precognition; namely, that she was inundated with visions, some mundane, others extraordinary, none obvious. And it was beginning to take its toll upon her.

Suddenly, D’Aylanna felt as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders, her head clear and vigilant. Looking up, she saw Tasrii directing Healing flows from the Force into her.

“I know how you feel, D’Aylanna; it’s affecting me too…I guess I’m just used to it from my time in the Pi—” The Zabrak woman stopped short, shocked that she’d let that much slip.

This time, it was Tasrii who was surprised. Feeling a small, soft hand upon hers, she looked from it into D’Aylanna’s dark eyes. The Hapan woman spoke. “Tasrii, you need not ever explain anything to me concerning your past. But…your secret is safe with me.” She gave the Zabrak a reassuring smile. With a smile of her own, Tasrii nodded, grateful. Suddenly, D’Aylanna stiffened, her eyes going momentarily blank. As D’Aylanna stood unmoving, Tasrii was worried that something bad had happened to the Gray Master. Grabbing the smaller woman by her shoulders, Tasrii was about to shake her when D’Aylanna suddenly became alert, her dark eyes focusing on the Zabrak.

“…We…we must needs rejoin with Rakham. The…the Nexus was almost successful in its obfuscation. Thank you Tasrii; I am obliged to you. Without your Healing, my Vision would still be clouded.” She moved, heading towards the Vault, followed closely by Tasrii…

<<<<< >>>>>

Rakham felt as if he’d been fighting for hours. The three Revenant that were left were good, very good. Even as they attempted to flank the Templar Master, they were also trying to access the Vault. Up to this point they’d been unsuccessful, largely due to Rakham’s saberwork. But even if he’d already killed five of them, it had cost him: his left arm hung limp, the muscle burned from a lancing saber strike and his right leg was flagging, the half-cauterized cut he’d received starting to take its toll. But he’d be damned if he let them through…

And then, to Rakham’s complete surprise, the three of them closed down their weapons, withdrawing a step. As much as he would have liked to think that they’d given up, Rakham knew better than to entertain false hopes. He knew that this must stem from some tactical decision…

He didn’t have to wait long: descending the stone stairs from the thoroughfare, Rakham saw a figure different from every single Revenant that he’d encountered. In flowing black robes covered in archaic glyphs, lines crosshatching the material of the robes as well as her face, the Revenant woman momentarily stopped in front of the Templar Master. As with the others, she had half of her face hidden by a mask; however, unlike them, hers covered the opposite side, the right. Additionally, her face was almost completely covered with tattoos, several glyphs interspersed among the intricate interconnecting lines. It was the first Revenant Wraith that Rakham had ever seen.

Silently smiling, she ignited both ends of her saberstaff, the red blades casting demonic shadows around the entrance to the Vault. The three Phantoms followed suit, their own blades adding to the hellish red atmosphere. Injured and exhausted as he was, Rakham still managed to smile. “So…who’s next?” And, gritting his teeth, Rakham stood resolute, knowing—knowing—that he would at least have the satisfaction of taking them with him: unconsciously, the hand on his hanging arm grasped his belt, his thumb resting on the “dead-man’s switch” he’d activated and prepared for in an event such as this. Without a word, the four Revenant advanced.

Knowing that—in this instance—a strong offense was a good defence, Rakham waded into the four Revenant, momentarily taking them off guard. With his saber working furiously, he was able to keep the red blades at bay. Against the Phantoms, Rakham’s savagery might have proven victorious…but he knew that the Wraith was not fooled. Smiling, she allowed the Phantoms to divert his energies and attention when she suddenly sent a torrent of Force Lightning towards him. Having engaged the three Phantom’s red blades with his own, Rakham could not deflect the Lightning with his blade. As he fought to put some distance between the red sabers and himself, the Force Lightning hit his head square on, burning around his brow and eyes. Blinded at least temporarily, Rakham knew that he presented an easy target, one without sight as well as under the oppression of the Dark Side Nexus. He readied the “dead-man’s switch,” defiant to the last.

Without warning one of the Phantoms flew across the room, hitting the stone with a neck-breaking crack. Simultaneously, the two other Phantoms were engaged in a desperate battle, one by Tasrii and the other by Berra. While Rakham could not see, he was able to partially sense the events in front of them although it required all of his concentration.

And he sensed that the Wraith had completely stopped in her advance. When Rakham crooked his head as if to see, he could further sense that her lone obstacle was a small woman. Wordlessly, they circled one another, stopping momentarily as they stared at each other. Then as one, they attacked. Rakham wanted to join in but had finally succumbed to the multiple injuries he’d taken, slumping against the wall. Even now he fought, pushing himself up against the stone at his back, determined not to pass out.

He suddenly felt gentle hands upon his arm, a warm energy that repaired muscle, tendons, ligaments. And although he couldn’t see, he sensed Jorya directing Healing flows of the Force into him. Quietly barking a laugh, he closed his eyes as the weight of his injuries finally caught up to him. But he hoped that—with a bit of time—he’d be whole again…

<<<<< >>>>>

Saberstaff met purple- and red-bladed lightsabers as the two women exchanged strike after strike. D’Aylanna had fought her share of saber practitioners and this Wraith tralk was among the best. And despite Tasrii’s Healing, the Dark Side influence of the Nexus was still in effect. Already D’Aylanna had had to retreat instead of following up an advantageous attack because of the oppressiveness. She deflected another overhead cut quickly followed by a slice intended to blind or maim. If she’d have been any slower…

Smiling as if reading D’Aylanna’s mind, the Wraith’s offensive became savage in its intensity. It was all the Hapan Master could do to keep her defenses intact. Then, the Wraith did something that D’Aylanna did not expect.

Bringing her saberstaff into a high parry, the Wraith’s free hand shot out, Force Lightning erupting from her fingers. Seemingly exposed, D’Aylanna took the brunt of the Lightning on her red-bladed saber, some of it cascading from the blade striking her Charuba armor. Seeing this, the Wraith smiled a rictus grin and—with Force-enhanced strength—she reversed her momentum, bisecting D’Aylanna’s red-bladed saber. As the useless weapon fell from D’Aylanna’s hands, she focused with her purple saber against the Wraith’s saberstaff.

Cackling a shrieking laugh, the Wraith redoubled her efforts with her Force-Lightning, using both of her hands after hooking her saberstaff onto her belt, the electricity enveloping the small Hapan woman. And when D’Aylanna went to her knees, the Wraith saw her eminent victory. As she closed the distance between her and the Gray Master, the Wraith poured everything that she had into her Lightning attack. She was almost on top of D’Aylanna as she directed the lethal energies into the kneeling woman. “Cshilla ost llibbr!” The Wraith’s voice sounded exultant, the tattoos of her face glowing in the reflected light of her attack

The Wraith’s eyes widened comically as D’Aylanna grabbed both of her wrists in a Force-strengthened grip, shattering the Wraith’s bones in her arms, crushing her forearms. D’Aylanna had fought her share of Force-sensitives able to use Lightning. As such, she’d developed an incredibly effective form of tutaminis. Instead of the Lightning coursing through her body, D’Aylanna’s tutaminis had absorbed most of the Wraith’s attack and what the Gray Master didn’t absorb was soaked up by her Charuba armor. With a knee to the Wraith’s solar plexus, two things occurred: first, the Revenant’s saberstaff fragmented into pieces and, second, the force of D’Aylanna’s kick knocked the Wraith out cold, her ribs crushed.

Breathing heavily, D’Aylanna slowly straightened, clearly exhausted by her efforts. Looking around, she saw that she was not the only one so affected: both Tasrii and Berra were staggering from their exertions as well as the Dark Side Nexus. However, with the Wraith unconscious, the oppression seemed diminished. “She was the source of the Force Suppression.” Rakham’s exhausted voice came from behind D’Aylanna. Turning, she saw that he looked somewhat improved as Jorya continued to heal him but he was still far from recovered. D’Aylanna could empathize; she felt as if she’d fought a gorog.

“…Yes, that makes sense. Even now, I can feel the difference…” A thought suddenly skirted across her mind. Kneeling by the unconscious woman, D’Aylanna searched the Wraith’s robes. After a moment, she withdrew her hands, a small silver-red book cupped within them. “…Rakham…I found this book on every single Revenant that I searched.” She turned to the tall Templar, noticing the burns along his face and around his eyes. “There are multiple glyphs and pictograms representative of some language that I do not understand. I asked my daughter and she thought that it might be an off-shoot of Massassi or even Balc but beyond that she cannot decipher it. Are you familiar with such?”

Rakham ran his fingers along the book when D’Aylanna handed it to him. “…If I could see then…I could at least be sure… Still…I think I might know someone who can help us…” Feeling the Gray Master’s intense stare, Rakham gave a small grin. “Sorry, just thinking aloud to myself. I believe that one of our Dark Sider Templars might be able to help decipher this: goes by the name of ‘Faradi.’ I just need to get ahold of him…”

D’Aylanna didn’t so much as blink. “And you trust him?” Her blue lips were drawn in a tight line across her face.

Rakham stared straight back. “I do.” As simple his pronouncement was, it carried all of the weight of his position.

D’Aylanna smiled grimly. “Then that’s good enough for me. But let’s first get you up into a bacta-couch; I have one on Fenris’ Dirge.”

Rakham smiled back. “No need; Kadmaur was nothing if not prepared. Give me a couple days and I’ll be good as new… Same with the Archives. Regardless, we’ve got a lot to work through…

CHAPTER 20: Clarity, Part 1

As the Templar defenders, along with D’Aylanna and Jorya, stood in the aftermath of their fight with the Revenant invaders, the sound of loud, armored footsteps on stone began ringing through the halls. Close behind the sound, a dark, stormy presence followed. Soon, the figure they belonged to rounded the corner.
He was tall, and shrouded in darkness. He wore black robes wrapped tightly around his muscled form, and in his hand was a long, poison green saber. On his face was an evil steel mask, with demonic features and long pointed horns sweeping back over his head.
D’Aylanna drew her lightsaber, but Rakham spoke before she could activate it.
“Godsdamn it, Faradi, where have you been?”
Faradi immediately shut down his lightsaber and removed his mask, revealing tattooed green skin and long Twi’lek lekku.
“Master, are you alright?” He rushed over and knelt beside Jorya, who was still healing the old Templar.
“Too early to tell for sure. They got my eyes, but I think the wounds can be healed.”
Faradi paused to inspect the damage. “Yes, it doesn’t appear to be terribly serious. To answer your question, Master, one of these wretches managed to evade your cleansing wrath and stumbled into my laboratory. I dealt with him as quickly as I was able, and made my way here.”
“I thank you for your efforts, Faradi, and you got here just in time. I have a task for you. This is D’Aylanna Vih’torr and her daughter, Jorya. D’Aylanna is an old friend, and I ask that you trust her as you trust me. She is going to need your services.” Rakham said, and glanced at the unconscious Revenant Wraith. “All of your services.”
“I understand, Master.” He said, and stood so that he could bow to D’Aylanna. “I am your faithful servant, Madame Vih’torr. Now, let’s see about getting this mess cleaned up before the rest of the Order returns.”

...

“They’ve underestimated us twice, and they won’t do it again.” Berra said to the rest of the Masters, who were all lounging in her office bearing concerned looks. D’Aylanna was listening in as well, and the Narudar and Fugitive had both returned completely unmolested, bringing Dala and Nadia back.
“It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that they’re still testing us.” Rakham said. “But one thing is certain; they know more about the Archive than they should. It can’t be a coincidence that their cavalry went straight for the Vault. They knew about it.”
“Outside of this room, who knows where the Vault is?” Nadia asked with an exhausted look.
“Tasrii. Edda. Faradi. Gra’porin. Jorya. Jorya is obviously not a suspect, and I refuse to believe that any of the others betrayed us.” Rakham replied.
“How did they even get into the Archive? You can’t just kick down a twelve foot thick wall of reinforced stone.” Dala asked, absentmindedly stroking her lekku.
“They opened it.” Rakham answered.
“What?” Dala and Nadia answered in unison.
“They opened it.” He repeated. “Set off charges all around the mountain to disorient us, and opened the door.”
“That’s not possible.” Nadia stated plainly.
“I closed the door. D’Aylanna saw it. After we fought them, it was open.” Rakham responded.
“I already checked with Faradi and Tasrii. Neither of them left the Archive last night, and neither did I.” Berra added. “Rakham, do you know what they wanted from the Vault?”
“How could I? People have killed and died for every item in there at some point in history, and that just confuses me more. Even if someone outside those mentioned had learned of the Vault, it’s absolutely impossible that they could have gotten inside and catalogued the items for the Revenant to know what we have.” He answered. “There is an upside to this, apart from the fact that they didn’t get anything or kill anyone. Stikes is slicing their ships’ navcomputers right now, and he might can find out where they came from.”
“If your theory that this attack was another test of our abilities is true, it could be a trap like the one Tas and I fell into.” Nadia said.
“Very true, and that’s why we’ll be ready, but to be honest with you, the Revenant have yet to impress me that much. We can handle this.” He replied, and stood up. “Now, I’m going to go climb into a Bacta tank and pray that when I get out of it I can see.”

...

After a long night of work, Stikes finally broke into the computers. They’d been cleared before their last launch, but the black box provided clear coordinates to the planet they’d departed. It was a lush, heavily forested world in a nearby system. An unmanned and virtually undetectable recon craft owned by the Mandalorians had been launched and was currently in orbit.
The Revenant operations seemed to be based out of an old star cruiser, but it was clear that the ship had crashed there many years ago, and the Revenant had arrived in smaller ships like the ones on the landing pad. There were half a dozen of the vessels, and each of them was capable of holding no more than a handful of people.

A plan was developed quickly. Dala Crescentfall, Sahka Tekk, Nova Gramm, Korin Stikes, Choh’leni, and Tasrii Kepressa would lead a strike team of Mandalorians in the Fugitive, while the rest of the Mandalorians would follow in the Narudar with Hul Sten, Rawbacca, Teks and the Morn brothers, Callo and Stringer.
The Narudar would come out of hyperspace first and begin bombarding the site. Then, the Fugitive would arrive, and the strike team would disembark. At that point, the Narudar would begin it’s approach and deploy the rest of the Templars and their mercenary allies upon landing. If necessary, the mercs on the ground were capable of painting targets for the heavy weaponry aboard the Narudar.

All that remained was the execution.

...

The bombardment was very much a success. Enormous craters were blasted in the old wreck, and a huge swath of forest was burning or vaporized around it. Of course, this helped the Templar strike team less than they’d anticipated.

The Fugitive swept into the hangar bay of the old cruiser like a massive bird of prey, and the strike team swarmed out with weapons ready. However, they met no resistance, and none of the Templars sensed life signs.
“Energy readings through there, ma’am.” A Mandalorian engineer with a handheld scanner reported to Dala.
“Tasrii, take the lead. Aurek Squad, back her up. Sahka, Nova, Stikes, Choh’leni, make your way to the bridge and see if you can access any security footage. I’m going with Tasrii and Aurek.”

...

Surprisingly, the ship was in remarkably good shape apart from the bombardment damage, and some of the lifts were still working. The Templar team boarded one of these and ascended towards the bridge.
“Revenant must have done a lot of work restoring the power here.” Nova posited.
“Who knows, maybe they just got lucky. This wreck can’t be more than ten years old.” Stikes said, and keyed up his communicator. “Master Dala, has your group seen any indication of how long the Revenant has been here?”
“Not yet, Stikes, but we’re finding tech beyond anything we’ve seen the Revenant use before. They have long range scanners here more than capable of watching the Archive. It looks li- hold on, Stikes, the mercenaries found something.” The commlink went silent, and half a second later, the elevators doors slid open, revealing the bridge.

The bridge was dark and cluttered with instrument panels. A humanoid skeleton rested in the captain’s chair, but it wasn’t what drew the attention of the Templars.
In red paint on the walls, floor and ceiling, in a hundred different languages, was one phrase repeated over and over.
You lose

“Nova, stop!” Sahka hissed as the woman stepped carefully into the room, but it was too late. As Nova turned around and opened her mouth to speak with a puzzled expression on her face, her foot came down on the pressure plate.
Sahka spun around and tackled the first person she could reach back into the lift, beating the fireball that engulfed the bridge by nanoseconds. Nova was vaporized immiediately, and Choh’leni was blasted into the wall. Stikes landed hard under Sahka, and she landed hard on top of him, driving the air from his lungs and cracking several ribs. The back of Sahka’s armor was buckled by the blast, but the tough as nails Barabel barely noticed that as her head smacked into the floor.
“Nova! Nova!” Stikes choked and gasped as Sahka rolled off of him in a daze. She drug herself to her feat and stumbled into the the charred and cratered room, coughing from the smoke. There was no evidence that Nova had ever been there, and Choh’leni was leaning against the wall, still.
“Masster. Masster.” Sahka spoke into her commlink, her accent thickening as her head swam.
“What’s going on up there, Sahka? We heard a blast.” Tasrii replied.
“There wass... what iss word... bomb! There wass bomb, Masster, Nova and Choh are dead!”
“All units, be advised, we have a force of battledroids on scanners!” A Mandalorian voice interjected.
“Sahka, are you alright? Where is Stikes?” Tasrii said into the commlink.
There was no response.
“Sahka?”
“Sahka!”

The Barabel lay still on the floor.

...

“Narudar, prepare cannons!” Marz ordered coolly into his helmet’s communicator. “Medic 1, Assault 3, Assault 7, get to the bridge and get those Templars back. You three will answer to callsign Besh. Engineer 1, get to the Fugitive and fire up a blaster turret. Answer to callsign Cresh. Aurek, establish a defensive perimeter thirty five meters inside the hangar door. Master Templars, if you wish to participate in the hostilities, I would recommend taking cover near the perimeter and joining the action when they get close.”
“No time for formalities, Commander. Order us like the rest of your men.” Dala said. “Tas, let’s make some cover.” She gestured to stacks of crates near the walls of the hangar, and with a a motion of her hands one of the stacks levitated towards the perimeter the Mandalorians were establishing. Tasrii joined in, and soon an effective palisade was formed.
“The droids are close!” The remaining Engineer said, staring intently at the screen of his scanner. Everyone was quiet, and only the muted click... click... click... of the scanner broke the silence. There were eight Mandalorian commandos, not counting Marz or the Engineer manning the turret, and the scanner was reading dozens of droids.
It wasn’t long before the first wave appeared. The droids were tall and spindly, with skeletal bodies and weapons integrated into each arm, blasters on the right and vibroblades on the left. They were painted black, and their round photoreceptors burned red. A score of them charged the hangar mouth, with dozens more close behind.
“Cresh, fire for effect! Aurek, suppressing fire!” Marz ordered briskly. The blaster turret screamed, blowing holes through the ever growing ranks of droids, drowning out the almost silent electromagnetic clatter of shattergun fire.
The first wave was decimated immediately, but the second was close behind, stepping over the shattered metal bodies and furiously returning fire, forcing the mercenaries into cover.
“Switch to rockets!” Marz commanded. Each mercenary armed the auxiliary weapons systems hidden in their armor and awaited Marz’ order. The commander peeked around the edge of the crate he was hiding behind, waiting for the droids to come closer so that there would be no chance of missing. “Fire!”
A barrage of rockets streaked across the ten yards between the barricade and the charging droids and slammed into them like a charging banthaa. The mercenaries immediately switched back to their shatter rifles and finished off the remaining droids.
The third wave was far greater than the first two, with what looked like hundreds of droids gathering outside. The Templars felt something else, as multiple dark presences revealed themselves outside the ship. There was another problem as well; many of the droids who were thought to be destroyed were writhing on the floor, autorepair programs bringing them back to their feet.
“Marz! The Revenant are here!” Dala shouted. The commander nodded back, a grim look on the face under his helmet.
“Engineer 2, paint those targets! Narudar, fire as soon as you get a solid lock! Besh, status report!”
“We’re moving as fast as we can, commander! The elevator was damaged in the blast and these Templars are in rough shape. ETA ten minutes!” The medic from Besh replied, as the engineer still with Aurek pointed a set of goggles out of the hanger, designating a target for the Narudar.
Five seconds later, with a deafening sound, the ground outside erupted, dirt and droid parts launching into the sky.
“Narudar, keep up the barrage! Aurek, put these droids down for good!” Marz yelled, and Aurek Squad began pouring fire into the writhing mess of droids on the floor, not stopping until the movement ceased and the barrage from the Narudar stopped.
“Commander, the guns are overheated and we’ve blown a dozen circuits. That’s all we’ve got.” The pilot of the ship radioed.
“Alright Narudar, return to orbit.” Marz responded as he peered into the thick clouds of dust and smoke outside.
“Sir?”
“You heard me. We don’t know what’s down here so we can’t risk a landing. Get out of here.” He said, only half paying attention to the commlink as he began to notice movement within the dust cloud. Suddenly, a storm of blaster fire erupted from the dust, chewing at their limited cover. The turret opened fire again, but suddenly the barrels were wrenched downwards towards the defenders, strafing them with devastating effect. Thinking quickly, the engineer drove an armored elbow into the circuit panel and shut down the gun, but the damage was done, three of the eight commandos had been killed by the turret, and two more by the droids. Seven dark figures emerged from the dust, crimson blades in hand.
“Concentrate fire on those Revenant!” Marz roared in fury, losing his calm for the first time that the Templars has ever seen. He stood and emptied his shatter rifle in a long automatic burst, his armor absorbing half a dozen blaster bolts.
The Revenant hadn’t expected the nasty surprise of the shatterguns, and three of them were dropped by the Mercenaries’ barrage before one of them caught on to what was happening. A wave of energy caught the Mandalorians and their cover, first slamming the mercenaries backs against the walls of the hangar, then throwing the remains of their cover atop them. Only Tasrii, Dala and Marz remained, and Marz lie on his back.
Dala and Tasrii activated their sabers, icy blue crossing over sky blue as they stood shoulder to shoulder. As soon as they activated their sabers, the droids stopped firing but continued to rush in, surrounding the Templars in a wide circle. The sound of a shattergun followed by four blaster shots near the walls signaled the end of the last mercenary defenders, and Marz dragged himself to his feet with cold determination. The three stood back to back, weapons in hand, the room silent save for the hum of lightsabers and a set of footsteps that drew ever closer. The droids parted, and the Revenant appeared, four of them striding alongside one another.
They wore black hoods, with half masks that revealed the red tattoos on their faces. They’d put their sabers away.
“Nice toy.” One of them said, and with a gesture, the shatter rifle was snatched from Marz’ hand. The Revenant caught it, turned it over on his hands once, and pointed it back at Marz. He made a show of pondering his options, then shook his head with a sarcastic smile. “No, not my style. So, what shall we do with you, Templars?” He asked, placing a mocking emphasis on the last word. “I suppose we should wait for the rest of you to join the party before deciding.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the droids parted again, and ten badly damaged units stepped forward, dragging Sahka and Stikes. Both of them were dumped unceremoniously in the circle, and their lightsabers were handed to the Revenant.
“Thiss one iss ssorry...” Sahka hissed weakly. “Droidss in the ventss... Electrocuted uss. Killed merssenariess.”
“Well, the gang’s all here!” The Revenant said cheerily. “I’m sure you’re all surprised, shocked, even, but I have to break it to you.” His tone suddenly turned cold. “We’re better than you. We’re stronger than you. We’re smarter than you, and we’ve been doing this for much, much, longer than you. Now, as for what to do with you. First of all, I want you, specifically to see something.” He said, and pointed at Marz.
The droids parted again, and two more Revenant appeared. Their black robes were soaked in blood, and it dripped on the floor as they walked. One of them had a gaping hole in his throat, the other had one fist sized crater in her chest, one on her thigh and a chunk ripped from her side. Even before their eyes, the flesh reformed, their wounds closing in seconds.
“No... that’s impossible!” Dala gasped. These were two of the Revenant that had been killed by the Mandalorians.

The female Revenant took off her mask, revealing a smooth, pale face almost entirely covered by tattoos. She walked up to Marz, swaying her hips. Tasrii moving between them, bringing her lightsaber up, and the woman stopped. With a sigh, she snapped her fingers. Tasrii’s back arched and she fell to her knees as unbearable pain washed over her in waves. Her lightsaber fell to the ground, and the Revenant stepped around her as Dala rushed to her side.
“You...” she murmured seductively, and placed a hand on Marz’ shoulder. “...are a tease!” With her other hand, she found the clasp of his helmet and released it. With a motion of her hand, it was lifted off his head and clattered to the floor. He was frozen in place, gripped by the Force as though frozen in carbonite. She caressed his face, and as she did so, invaded his mind.
She saw everything he’d seen, but it wasn’t the interior plan of the Archive or Templar battle plans she was searching for. It was the night he met his wife, the day his son was born, and the last tearful goodbye that they’d shared. She smirked and licked her lips.
“What you said to your son was true, you know,” she whispered in his ear. “That was the last time you’d ever leave him.” Her hand went to her belt, and produced a short lightsaber hilt. “My name is Annora. I want you to know that.”

She activated the lightsaber, and the red blade pierced his stomach. She loosened her grip on him, enough that he could scream in pain, and drug the blade upwards into his chest. The scream stopped as his lungs were disintegrated, and she dropped him to the ground.

Dala made no sound of anger or outrage, but she moved like lightning, swinging her saber at Annora’s head. The Revenant blocked the blow with her saber, and thrust out a hand, attempting to inflict pain upon Dala the way she had Tasrii. Dala responded with a Force push, knocking her off her feet.
“Your parlor tricks aren’t going to work on me, you animal.” She snarled furiously. The surprise of the blow had broken her hold over Tasrii, and Dala helped the Zabrak to her feet.
“That’s quite enough.” One of the other Revenant said drolly, and motioned to the droids. Immediately, a storm of blue stun bolts hit the pair, and they went down in a twitching heap.

END CHAPTER

CHAPTER 21: Cloudy Skies

The facility was washed in red light as an alarm blared softly. Suddenly, the alarm stopped, and the facility fell silent. The giant man in his steel mask stood silently beside his slender comrade and waited, pouring his malice into the air. After a moment passed, there was a small cry of desperation, and the sound of boots on a blood-soaked floor as the prey fled. Nadia couldn’t see the dark smile spreading across Rakham’s face, but she knew it was there.

…

The thought most prevalent in Anto Gimm’s mind as he ran through the halls was simply How?. How did the Templars find this facility? How had only four of them overcome their security so easily? How was he going to get out of here?
Unfortunately for him, he would only ever know the answer to the last question, and the answer was that he never would. As he ran, Anto made the mistake of looking over his shoulder. He only caught a glimpse of his pursuers before his feet caught on the corpse of one of his comrades and he tumbled to the ground, sliding through a pool of blood and landing on his back. The Templars were on him within a second.
“Please-” he gasped, but before he could speak the one wearing the Mask placed a hand on his head, and with overwhelming power scoured Anto’s brain. He was looking for anything about prisoners of war, and savagely racked Anto mind until he was satisfied. He released his hold on the smaller man and spun the blue saber in his hand. The Revenant foot soldier didn’t have time to cry out before the blade came down.

…

“Dala. Dala!” Tasrii rasped, shaking her old friend by the shoulder as she tried to use Force healing to stem the flow of blood from the lacerations across the Twi’lek’s abdomen. “You can’t go to sleep, Dala. Stay with me, we’re too close to give up.”
Dala’s eyes flew open, and she gasped for air. She placed her hand over Tasrii’s and added her meager energy to the effort. Slowly, the wounds began to close.
“We’re going to make it.” Tasrii said, and Dala responded with a weak smile. For a week and a half they’d been held in this tiny, dark cell, and they only left it when the Revenant dragged them to a torture room for daily interrogation. That’s where they’d spent the last two hours, and Dala had gotten the worst of it today. She always got the worst of it, but they were close. The Revenant had put up a suppression field to dampen their Force abilities, but they were managing to fight through it.
“Tas, I don’t have much time left.” Dala said, struggling to form the words.
“Then we move today. I’m ready. We can do it.” Tas replied, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to put strength in her words. “When they come to take us, that’s when we do it.”

…

D’Aylanna, Nadia and Faradi were all standing around a holoprojector displaying a star map aboard the Fugitive. They all still bore the sweat, blood and soot of their raid on the Revenant hideout. Rakham sat in the corner of the room, an unlit pipe clenched between his teeth and a bandage over his still sightless eyes.
“There’s only one place left that we haven’t hit. Rylus IX.” D’Aylanna said, tapping their current location on the star map. The blue marker signifying a Revenant base turned red. There was now a long trail of red markers across the map, and only one blue.
“Has there been progress made on the interrogation, Faradi?” Nadia asked, referring to the Revenant Wraith D’Aylanna had captured.
“I apologize, master, but I’m afraid not. It takes time to break into the mind of a Force lord. I would say that the subject requires another week in the deprivation tank, at least. Then the unpleasantness may begin and information will be extracted.”
“We understand that what you do takes time, Faradi, and we appreciate your efforts.” Nadia replied, rubbing her temples. “Let’s get to Rylus IX and get this done.

…

The knock on the door came at it’s usual time.
“Prisoners! Stand back!” One of the Revenant guards who would be escorting them to the torture room barked. Tasrii helped Dala to her feet and the pair complied. Tasrii closed her eyes and leaned against the back wall of the dark, cramped cell, and drew upon the very last of her energy and will. She felt her skin begin to buzz as she overcame the Revenant Force suppression, and a fiery heat swelled in her chest and spread to her fingertips.
The doors slid open with a hiss, and her fiery eyes flew open. As usual, there were three guards. Two the doorway holding electroshackles, one standing by the control panel. Tasrii sprang into action.
First, she reached out with the Force and grabbed the first guard, meaning to snatch him to the floor, but overdoing it and sending him tumbling into the cell at the same time she leapt out of it, slamming an open palm into the second guard’s chest with a brutal Force push, slamming him into the far wall. Immediately, the final guard punched the control panel, triggering the emergency lock and closing Dala in with the first guard. Not wasting her momentum, Tasrii clasped her two fists together and slammed them into the back of the last guard’s head, causing him to smack his forehead against the wall. She turned to the second guard, who appeared to be either unconscious or dead, and grabbed the lightsaber from his belt. Just to be sure, she pointed it at his chest and tapped the activation button, burning a hole through his heart before spinning and bringing to saber to her preferred low guard to deal with the last Revenant. To her surprise, the man was lying on the floor with his neck twisted at a hard angle.
Must have hit him harder than I thought. She thought as she moved to open the cell door and kill the last guard. When the doors opened, however, Dala was standing over the bisected body of the Revenant guard, his lightsaber hilt in her hand.
“I’m alright.” Dala croaked, and opened her mouth to speak again before an alarm began to blare. Tasrii began to curse, before a familiar female voice came over the loudspeakers.
“Revenant scum,” the thickly accented voice began. “We have come to recover the Templar prisoners you hold. Your leaders are dead. Your facility is under our control. If you attempt to resist us, you will be met with indiscriminate brutality. We have already captured your barracks, your armory and your hangar. You will not escape us. You will not defeat us.”
With a click, the transmission ended, and the alarms did not resume.
“That was Nadia!” Tasrii exclaimed hoarsely. They could both feel the Force suppression fading, and with it’s its fading away came a feeling of chaos in the Force as the Revenant scrambled for control of the situation.
Even as the suppression faded, Tasrii began to lose her grip on the energy that had empowered her, and she stumbled.
“We have to find Sahka and and Stikes!” Dala said, and with a nod from Tasrii, the two leaned against one another for support as stumbled through the abandoned halls.

…

D’Aylanna moved like water as she cut through the Revenant attacking them. It was a stark contrast to the jerky, savage, but lightning fast movements of Faradi, his silvery horned helmet turned a demonic poison green by the glow of his lightsaber. D’Aylanna was one of the most dangerous women in the galaxy, but the motions she had trained for so long to carry out seemed somehow easier and faster than ever before, and she suspected that it had to do with the artifact Rakham was wearing, a dark steel and crimson mask. Even now she could feel it’s power as he fought at the other end of the facility. It was a warm feeling, that she could tell would have inspired ferocious loyalty in a weaker-willed individual. It seemed to make you want to impress it’s wearer, and then provide you with the tools you needed to do so.
Brough quickly back to the present by a charging Revenant, she sidestepped his great downward cleave and brought her saber across his back, just as Faradi spun his green blade into the man’s neck. He fell to the floor in three pieces with a series of grisly thuds. The hallway they were standing in was strewn with bodies, and there were only three living souls left among them. Standing before D’Aylanna and Faradi was a terrified looking young woman with a single ring tattooed over her eye and a lightsaber clutched in her shaking, white-knuckled hands.
“Drop the weapon.” Faradi commanded. Surprisingly, the Revenant girl did so, and raised her hands slowly. Faradi marched forward.
“We’ve seen your records. We know you have our people here. Where are the prisoners?”
“The ward is on the seventh floor down! Please, don’t kill me!” She replied quickly, her voice cracking. In response, Faradi thrust his green blade into her stomach and pulled her tightly against him, putting his head next to hers.
“This is for Choh’leni, Revenant whore!” He hissed in her ear, and let her body drop, a final expression of shock and fear etched on her face. D’Aylanna grimaced as he stepped over her and marched to the turbolift dowl the hall. Just as he reached for the keypad, the door hissed open, and another batch of Revenant charged out, throwing the two back into combat.

…

“Indiscriminate brutality?” I rather like that.” Rakham said as he walked into the turbolift with his old friend.
“I thought it would be nice to add a little flavor. It seems as though it worked.” Nadia replied.
“You can almost taste the panic in the air, but it won’t take them long to figure out that you were making up all that about capturing this place.”
“True enough,” Nadia said as she pushed a button on the lift that would take to the seventh floor, “They should be able to fix the pizdec we made of their communications system any second.”
“With any luck, we’ll be out of here before that happens.” As he spoke, the doors of the lift slid open, and they stepped out.
“Pizdec.” Nadia repeated flatly, and activated her lightsaber. There were at least two dozen of the Revenant’s self repairing droids marching down the hallway, their backs to the lift. Rakham drew and activated both of his lightsabers, and the droids were already spinning around to unleash a storm of fire. The red, green and blue blades were spun into walls of light as the pair advanced on the black droids, sending the cascade of red bolts into the floor, the walls, the ceiling and back to their source, knocking an impressive portion of them to the floor. They met the rest of them with fury, moving through their ranks like a scythe through wheat until they came out on the other side of the column. Already, the first droids they had “killed" were beginning to stand and fire again. Nadia cursed again and pulled a thermal detonator from her pocket. She flipped the switch and tossed it into the writhing pile of droids before sprinting off into the first cell block, with Rakham close behind. Just as they passed through the door, there was a deafening Boom!, and several chunks of twisted metal sailed through the door behind them and clattered against the wall, but neither of them noticed. Before them, bloody and battered but alive, stood their lost comrades.

…

D’Aylanna’s communicator began buzzing halfway through their fight for the turbolift, but these Revenant were a hardier bunch, and demanded her full attention. Finally the last one had fallen, and she was able to key up the device.
“Rakham?”
“You were starting to worry me for a minute there, Marquessa.”
“Ah, it was nothing we couldn't handle. What’s the situation?”
“We’ve got them. Head back to the hangar, and watch out for these damn droids.”
A wave of relief washed over D’Aylanna, and she relayed the news to Faradi and they turned away from the turbolift. In the two short weeks since their friends were captured it felt like an eternity had passed.

It was a only a short walk back to the hangar where they’d left the Fugitive, but their progress was interrupted by a quickly marching column of Revenant and their droids. They heard them before they saw them, and shrank into a conveniently located supply closet. They marched past towards the hangar, hundreds of them. D’Aylanna keyed up her communicator again and whispered into it.
“Rakham, we have a problem. The Revenant are gathering in the hangar.”
“Alright. I’ll make the call.”

…

Two hundred Revenant Battle Droids stood in the hangar, and fifty Revenant were with them. In front Annora stood, tapping her feet impatiently until finally the eight figures they were waiting on walked through the bay doors. Rakham Crescentfall walked in front, cradling his wife’s limp form in his great arms, and at his sides were his protege Tasrii Kepressa and a Hapan woman who Annora did not recognize. Behind them, the rest of their party marched with heads held high. They all stopped after crossing the threshhold, and Rakham shouted.
“Stand aside or die!”
Annora laughed, a sweet, clear sound.
“Are you sure that’s all I can do for you?
Could I fetch you a glass of water? Give you a back massage? Perhaps arrange an escort back to your Archive? I could be wrong, as no one can be correct one hundred percent of the time, dear, but I don't believe you are in a position to make demands of me! As a matter of fact, I believe I could make demands of you, should I please to, but I don’t. That mask you’re wearing is stolen property, and I intend to pry it from your severed head!” Annorra shouted back, visibly losing her ever-present calm.
Rakham hung his head low and shook it disappointedly, but did not respond. Instead, with a noise that sounded like the planet tearing in half, the Narudar appeared outside of the hangar, two gunships immediately jumping out from it’s hangar bay as the ship’s auxiliary blaster cannons began to rake the Revenant forces with fire. The gunships were upon them in an instant, their beam lasers cutting swaths through the droids before the ships sat down for just long enough to allow their passengers to disembark. Two squads of Mandalorians with heavy Verpine weaponry began to lay down fire as Sam led a small group of Templars into the fray, clearing a path between the Fugitive and Rakham’s group. Within a few moments, they were all dashing towards towards the ship, and in a few more, they were docking with the Narudar, and heading home.

…

But for two figures, the Archive landing pad was deserted, and a gentle rain fell. One of the figures wore a dark robe, and glared out from under the hood with a scarred face twisted into a grim look of concentration. In her hands, a red blade crackled and popped, not humming as much as growling. Across from her was the tall, dangerous form of Jorya Fah ni’Vih’Torr, a purple shoto in one hand, a blue saber in the other. The two circled one another slowly, until, in a flurry of motion, Jorya attacked. Her blue blade caught the red one, but before she could bring the purple one around, the hooded figure tripped over her own poorly placed feet, but instead of crashing to to the floor, she was slowly levitated down. Jorya deactivated her blades and rushed to kneel at her side.
“Edda! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” Edda replied with a raspy laugh, and drug herself back to her feet. “Thanks for catching me.”
“Huh? I thought you did that?” Jorya replied with a look of confusion.
“Are you two certain that it’s wise to spar with live sabers, in the rain, considering that one of you is as much a novice as one can be?” Heditt Crescentfall spoke from the shadows of the Archive entrance, pulling his hood up as he walked out onto the landing pad.
“Master Rakham’s orders, sir.” Edda explained. “He said that Jorya would not hurt me, and that I could not hurt her even if I wanted to.”
“I suppose he failed to consider the danger you present to yourself.” Heditt mused with a warm smile and drew his saber, holding his hilt in a low guard but not activating the blade. “Edda, when you move, don’t cross one foot over the other, instead bring on foot to meet the other, and repeat. By keeping both feet flat and near to the ground, you have much better balance, and your strikes will have more power if your feet are planted.” He demonstrated the motion before putting his lightsaber away.
“Thank you, Master.” Edda said, and began to test the movement. Heditt turned to walk towards his starship, and shouted back over his shoulder.
“Thank me by remembering, and I’m nobody’s master!”

A peal of thunder came as Heditt’s ship lifted into the sky, and the clouds that had been a cool but friendly grey began turning angry and black. Edda and Jorya turned to retreat inside, but before they could make it, the sound of pulse engines running full tilt split the sky, and the Fugitive lanced through the clouds, with the Narudar close behind. Both ships landed hard, and the Narudar’s ramp was already coming down. Three stretchers were rushed off, but neither of the women could tell who was on them, though Rakham and Nadia were walking beside them, with Faradi and Sam close behind. The Fugitive’s ramp descended, and D’Aylanna marched down it, looking tired but optimistic.
“Mother!” Jorya called, and ran over, Edda shortly behind. “What happened?”
“We found them, but other than Sahka Tekk, they are all badly hurt. Sahka just seemed… hungry. They’re trying to get them into bacta tanks. It looks like they’re going to be okay.” D’Aylanna replied as they walked towards the Archive entrance.
“So what’s next?” Edda asked.
“Ultimately, that’s up to your council, but Master Stark did manage to find a lead when she was digging around in the Revenant’s computers.”
“Do you think we’re going to mount a full scale attack?” Jorya asked.
“The only thing I know for sure so far is that Rakham and Nadia want blood, and so do the Mandalorians. They want to end this war, and they want to end it soon.”

CHAPTER END

Chapter 22: A Delicate Touch, Part I

“…And she’s been like this since we captured her?” D’Aylanna tried to keep the exasperation from her voice, mostly succeeding. Mostly.

In front of her was a large transparisteel tank, transparent from the outside, opaque from the inside. So while D’Aylanna and her companion could see in, the Revenant Wraith suspended within the waters could see nothing but complete darkness. Several umbilical cords were connected to her: one obviously a breathing tube leading to her mouth, others running to the prisoner’s ears, fingers, toes, groin, and neck while restraints were tethered to her wrists and ankles. Turning to face the slender Twi’lek male—the only other occupant in the room besides the prisoner—D’Aylanna’s face was impassive despite her unspoken doubt.

“Yes. And no.” Faradi’s lips spread in a smile showing several gold teeth, a stark contrast from his green skin. “One must first…condition the subject prior to questioning so as to avoid as much wasted time as possible...” Deliberately, he pulled out a bag made of soft syncloth from one of the pouches on his belt, opening it to show D’Aylanna the contents. As she peered inside, she saw several severed fingers. She merely looked intently into the Twi’lek’s yellow eyes as he continued speaking. “…Whilst intermittently establishing a pattern, one that the subject comes to anticipate with great consternation.” Motioning to the bag, Faradi invited D’Aylanna to scrutinize the contents. Looking again, this time closer, she noticed something peculiar about the fingers.

“Those look to be the exactly the same.” Her voice held a hint of curiosity, the grisly contents not bothering D’Aylanna in the least. Nor apparently, Faradi. His hard face looked to be forged from durasteel. Only the crosshatching of various (and numerous) scars belied the impression…or perhaps more precisely reinforced it.

“You are correct, Vih’Torr.” He purposely grabbed one of the fingers, holding it up for inspection. “These are the exact same digit, belonging to the subject. From the first, I witnessed the subject’s ability to rejuvenate tissues. As you have no doubt deduced by now, these are the same finger.” The gleam in his eye was not a reflection of the light.

“…Would that not give the Wrai…the subject confidence?” Her blue lips twisted in thought.

Faradi looked past the severed finger he held and into D’Aylanna’s eyes. “No. Contrary to expectations, the subject has already been conditioned to expect for me to excise the digit. Anticipation can be a valuable tool…” The Twi’lek’s voice trailed off as his attention turned to the pale female humanoid in the deprivation tank as she suddenly convulsed, her back contorting in a painful arch, her fingers involuntarily balling into fists while her toes pointed painfully as her muscles cramped up. “…right on time…” Faradi allowed himself a small smile as he noticed D’Aylanna’s inquisitive face, her head slightly cocked to the side. “While the subject is immersed, they are regularly administered with an excruciating shock. This—”

“—Prevents them from entering into Force Hibernation.” D’Aylanna finished, nodding her head in understanding. “Or allow them to utilize any Force Healing, I’ll wager. Brilliant.” D’Aylanna looked again from the Wraith and back to the Twi’lek, impressed. “Master Faradi.” She smiled admiringly.

“Lady Vih’Torr.” Faradi inclined his head, his own smile widening, seemingly incongruous on his hard face. Turning his attention back to the Wraith, he took a step closer to D’Aylanna. Even though he was only of average height, he still towered over the Hapan woman. “It’s about time for the subject’s next excision, proceeding the next stage of the ‘program.’” Rummaging in one of the pouches on his belt, Faradi held up a datapad, keying the display with his thumb. “Would you like to stay for the next phase, Lady Vih’Torr?” Faradi’s face had turned completely objective, a professional about his business. Again, his scars seemed to exemplify the seriousness of his…work.

D’Aylanna arched an eyebrow. “May I ask what that is, Master Faradi?”

The Twi’lek’s yellow eyes focused upon the datapad, looking from it to the prisoner and back to D’Aylanna. “Do you see the umbilicals leading to the subject’s ears? I have surgically grafted them onto the auditory nerves of the subject. This…” He subtly hefted the small, innocuous datapad in his hand. “…produces an unaltered recording of a corvaj’s death roar. Looped.” He touched the datapad with his thumb. Almost instantaneously, the Wraith tried to grab at her ears, her arms stopping short from the restraints as she convulsed back and forth within the depravation tank. Had her breathing tube not been secured on her face, her screams would have thrust it from her mouth. Her unseeing eyes widened almost comically as the prisoner’s face registered both pain and dread. Seeing this, D’Aylanna looked enquiringly from the Wraith to Faradi.

“…What is she hearing?” D’Aylanna had experienced many things but she was at a loss as to whatever that sound could be. Looking intently at the small Hapan woman, Faradi briefly keyed the datapad. From every corner of the cell, a…noise unlike anything D’Aylanna had ever heard assaulted her senses.

The chilling sound pervaded the room, a shrill, teeth-clenching noise that set D’Aylanna’s nerves on edge whilst simultaneously feeling like a thorn was drilling straight into her forehead while her eyeballs threatened to explode from their sockets. And that was describing it mildly, she thought. Even pressing her hands tightly against her ears did nothing to lessen the mind-numbing pain, to say nothing of the discomfort and anxiety that coursed through her.

And just as suddenly as it had begun it stopped, making the abrupt silence seem all the more deafening.

“…By the Maker…” D’Aylanna exclaimed, only now realizing that she was holding onto the edge of one of the utilitarian tables within the cell. And while she tried to collect herself, her mind registered various minutiae around the room: the table had several nylasteel straps bolted to it; there were several drains strategically placed around the room, all corresponding with the foot of the tables themselves; and behind Faradi was a repulsor-tray half-covered by a thick black towel, various clinical instruments arranged succinctly that she could see from the uncovered half. With a final shake of her head, her mind once again felt lucid. “…And you say that that…sound came from a…corvaj?” She unnecessarily smoothed her burgundy and silver skirts. She’d heard of the animal but only that it hunted in the jungle wild…

Faradi smiled knowingly. “Looped. That was at 30% volume. The subject’s current setting is at 57% and slowly rising. Within the hour it will peak at 82-83% but not more, not this time. Then the volume shall return to under 12%...and cycle back up irregularly. You see, a corvaj’s roar also operates just below the hearing threshold of most sentients…so not only is the subject hearing it but they are also experiencing the subvocals…” He picked up one of the tools on the repulsor-tray, inspecting it. It had several small, wicked barbs running the entire length of the 25 centimeter shaft. Faradi ran a calloused thumb along the point of one of the barbs. D’Aylanna noticed two things: that when his finger came away from the barb, a bead of blood had already begun to pool and that Faradi hadn’t even so much as flinched.

“13.4 hours.” The Twi’lek’s voice was monotone, his gaze once again focused upon the prisoner. He was absently wiping vicious edged implement with the towel.

“…Sorry?” D’Aylanna asked, Faradi’s statement bringing her back to the present. She ran a small, delicate hand through her midnight-blue hair. The Twi’lek’s eyes were all that moved as his attention shifted from the Wraith back to D’Aylanna.

“The longest I’ve ever seen anyone continuously listen to the corvaj’s death roar is 13.4 hours…tough, little bastard he was…” For a moment, Faradi’s eyes were lost in a past memory, but it was fleeting. When next his gaze locked onto D’Aylanna, his yellow eyes were predatory. “Unfortunately, he was reduced to a gibbering simpleton, completely brainbolted. That’s when I learned to stagger both the volume and duration. Now…I can use this indefinitely. Well, at least for this phase. And if the subject is particularly obstinate…well, let’s just say that I’ve many more phases inherent to the ‘program.’” This time, his smile went wide enough to distend one of the most savage and conspicuous scars running from his jaw and up the side of his head, ending past his lekku.

“Then don’t let me distract you further, Master Faradi.” D’Aylanna gave a polished curtsy before turning from the room. The last sight she saw was the…subject writhing in pain while Faradi held a fiendish-looking bladed tool, the likes of which reminded her of an evil pair of shears…

<<<<< >>>>>

“How’re the eyes?” Heditt ran his cybernetic hand through his long brown beard, careless of the tangled hair. In his other hand was his lightsaber hilt, his fingers fidgeting over it as if needing to ignite the weapon. However, his attention was completely on his brother, the tall man standing in front of a holoprojection mirroring himself.

“…Better…now I can see complete shapes. Big ones and small ones…just not distinctly.” His voice was carefree, almost glib. But when he turned to face his brother, Rakham’s face turned sour. “Kriffing hell…” He wanted to rub at his eyes, clear away the blurred vision. His frustration must have shown as his brother suddenly approached him.

“Rakham…why don’t you have another go in Kadmaur’s chamber? I know…OK, I’m guessing that he’s got something in there akin to a bacta-couch. Or we could always take your pretty friend up on her offer…” He put a commiserating hand on the taller man’s shoulder. Rakham placed a big hand on Heditt’s, a small smile on his face.

“Doesn’t work that way…now, I’ve just got to ‘hurry up and wait.’ My eyesight will return fully, I’ve just got to be patient…” He barked a laugh at that. “And you know just how much of that particular virtue I’ve got…” Slowly he sighed, his eyes moving back and forth of their own accord. Heditt bowed his head, slowly exhaling himself.

“…How’s Dala?” He said quietly, looking up from under his brow. Again, his fingers moved as if by their own mind, searching, striving to ignite his lightsaber.

Rakham’s face subtly changed. It wasn’t much nor was it obvious but to Heditt it was a blinking sign of his brother’s pain…and fear.

“…She’ll be alright. Just needs time.” Rakham’s face was blank for all of the emotion it showed, his eyes staring at the floor. Heditt wasn’t fooled in the least.

“Brother…she’ll be better than ‘alright’…she’s strong. And she’s surrounded by people who will fight for her. Need her. Love her.” Heditt grabbed Rakham’s shoulders. Rakham looked up, his eyes still cloudy but seemingly able to see.

“…Since when did you become so optimistic?” Rakham’s lopsided grin helped to alleviate the seriousness of his demeanor.

“When I was proven right about you needing me.” Heditt’s face didn’t change, a stoic look about him.

“When the hell did that happen? Last I checked, you came to me.” Rakham joked. Heditt almost smiled. Almost.

“I could tell by the two strays that you had on ‘guard duty’ out in the front of the Archives when I landed. If you can call it that.” Heditt gave one of his rare smiles. “At least they know which end of a lightsaber to grab. Well, the Togruta does… That Hapan girl…Edda? Not so much…” Heditt’s hands moved to pantomime a set of balance scales.

“Ah they’re good girls…women, I should say.” Rakham slowly rubbed his hand through his dark hair, nearly mirroring his brother from earlier. “Which reminds me: I could use your help with Edda. Right now there’s no one better to help train her with her saberwork…” Before Rakham had finished, Heditt was already shaking his head.

“…No…that’s your forte, not mine.” This time Heditt did smile to take the sting out of his words. “C’mon Rak…you were the one who taught me Juyo. What could I possibly do that you can’t do better?” He turned his outspread hands palms outward, his worn brown robes swaying slightly.

“See, for starters.” Rakham deadpanned. He grabbed his brother’s shoulders. “I mean it Heditt. Edda has the potential…she just needs the experience…and the attention of a master…” He suddenly held up a big hand. “…And don’t tell me some shavit like how you’re not a master; kriff that. You’re here and I need you.” His stare was the same unnerving one that had intimidated many an opponent…yet with his brother, it only caused Heditt to cross his arms in contemplation. “…Tell me you’ll think on it?” Rakham’s voice was once again light.

For a moment, Heditt was as motionless as if he were frozen in carbonite. Then, slowly, he nodded his head slightly. “I promise I’ll think about it.”

With that, Rakham gathered the shorter man, putting his arm around his shoulders. “Now…there’s a bottle of Agavinol 32 that has our name on it. Let’s drink to absent friends and honor them in Templar fashion.”

Walking side-by-side with Heditt, both men disappeared down one of the Archives many hallways, Rakham’s voice echoing behind. “I remember one of the first times that Marz saved my backside: we were gambling at one of the seedier casinos on Canto Bight when I happened to receive the attention of this Mirialan beauty. And so I asked her if the rumors were true that they were more flexible than humans. Well, unbeknownst to me, her older brother just happened to hear me and my solution for proving it when I hear Marz’s voice behind me saying that he’s got my back…”

Chapter 22: A Delicate Touch, Part II

As D’Aylanna strolled through the halls of the Archive lost in thought, she found herself once again worrying about and missing her Shakal. As much as he’d tried to hide it, she noticed how he winced whenever he put any substantial weight upon his right leg. While she had not seen Gaetana—“Mendax” she angrily corrected herself—pull the cargobins down upon her husband, she had seen the extent of damage that the collective weight of the metal containers had caused. Of course Zearic had obstinately denied being in any such pain but he’d never been able to hide anything from her. D’Aylanna smiled wistfully, again yearning to be with her Shakal, to hold him, comfort him, speak with him.

“…By Ta’a Chume…you…you’re her!” A rough almost hoarse voice sounded from in front of D’Aylanna, interrupting her ruminations. “You’re the Marquesa Il'liyanav!” Even before she could respond, D’Aylanna focused upon the speaker.

Like D’Aylanna, she was Hapan, gorgeous, lithe, and exotic. Beautiful with raven-black hair and emerald eyes, her cherubic cheeks were indicative of her youth. And this close up to her, D’Aylanna saw that she had extensive burn scarring around her neck and lower face that did little to diminish her beauty. And although she wasn’t particularly tall, she was still taller than D’Aylanna. All of this went through her mind in an instant, followed by her growing trepidation. She held up her hands to forestall the young woman from saying anything else.

“Please, please don’t say that name.” D’Aylanna approached the other Hapan woman…almost a girl. Even given the gravity of the situation part of D’Aylanna noticed that the young Hapan was of an age with her own daughter, Jorya. She laid a gentle hand upon the other woman’s shoulder.

“…Of course, Marquesa. I beg your forgiveness, Illuminated One.” The Hapan girl made as if to genuflect, bowing at the waist. More forcefully than she intended, D’Aylanna grabbed her shoulders, stopping her from doing so.

“Please don’t use that title.” D’Aylanna affixed a soothing smile upon her face, her small hands resting on the girl’s arm. “You would do me the honor to call me ‘D’Aylanna’ please. And you are…?” D’Aylanna’s demeanor was disarming, helping the young Hapan relax although she insisted on lowering her eyes.

“Of course…D’Aylanna. I am Edda, Edda Veek.” Tentatively, she looked up, raising her piercing green eyes to stare into D’Aylanna’s dark ones. “I…I didn’t know that the Queen Mother—may Her Radiance illuminate eternal—had graced this sector of the galaxy with…” Edda’s voice trailed off seeing D’Aylanna gently shaking her head.

“No, Edda. Ta’a Chume did not send me… In fact, for all the Queen Mother knows, she believes that I am dead. And I mean to keep it so.” D’Aylanna’s gaze was raptorlike and unwavering, her voice quadranium. “The Marquesa Il'liyanav died many years ago, assassinated at her aunt’s behest.” Her face softened, her voice just above a whisper. “I am merely D’Aylanna Vih’Torr of the Vhal’Dan. And I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Edda Veek.” Her smile was wide and sincere.

Slowly, Edda’s gaze rose although by the way that the young woman focused on the top of her head, D’Aylanna suspected that she still had difficulty in being so…familiar with her. She also knew it wasn’t her fault; Hapan society had all but indoctrinated all Consortium citizenry at birth, especially concerning those of House Royal. But D’Aylanna was nothing if not patient, as anyone who knew Zearic and her training him could attest. Once again, she smiled longingly…but only momentarily.

“Oh, Mother! Good, I wanted for you to meet my new friend, Edda.” Jorya came from around the corner, her own gray robes and skirts less remarkable than D’Aylanna’s own, testament to her junior rank as a newly-minted koawan. Still, the tall Togruta looked formidable, D’Aylanna had to admit. …My Shakal has taught her well… She thought, full of pride for both of them.

“…This is your mother?!” Edda rasped, the burn scars on her throat pulling tight. The young Hapan woman looked from Jorya, tall, toned musculature, orange-skinned, to D’Aylanna, short, dark, petite yet curvy, and back again. Both Jorya and D’Aylanna broke into easy laughter.

“Sorry, Edda. I didn’t even think about it.” Jorya stood next to her mother, putting her arm around D’Aylanna’s shorter shoulders. “Obviously she and my father adopted me almost ten years ago. I can’t tell you how grateful for them that I am.” She smiled down lovingly at D’Aylanna.

Despite her initial shyness, Edda recovered quickly, soon becoming much more lively as the three women walked along the hallway, discussing Jorya and D’Aylanna’s most recent exploits with Master Karmack and Lady Arnor. Afterwards, Edda began to tell them about her recent acceptance into the Templars, but before she could get into much detail, D’Aylanna’s comm pinged.

“Excuse me Edda.” Then, holding up her comm. “This is D’Aylanna.”

“Lady Vih’Torr. Would you please rejoin me in the Archive’s Oubliette?” It was Faradi. “I’ve taken the liberty of contacting Master Rakham. He assured me he would be here forthwith…”

<<<<< >>>>>

“OK Faradi, what did the inked bitch tell you?” Even now, Rakham’s tone held anger. Controlled certainly, but anger nevertheless. Besides the Templar Master, only Heditt, Faradi, and D’Aylanna were present, standing around one of the clinical stainless durasteel tables that had the Wraith strapped down upon. As with the deprivation tank, the prisoner was completely naked, save for the numerous umbilicals connected to her various extremities.

Mildly, Faradi focused upon the prisoner. “Repeat what you told me, in exactitude.” Almost absently, his hand kept hovering over the long, barbed instrument that D’Aylanna had noticed earlier. So too did the prisoner. Shuddering, she began to speak, her voice ragged as if from extended screaming. Which it was.

“…on Taris…there is…abandoned undercity…” The Wraith started to cough, then closed her eyes while the only sounds were her uneven breathing.

“…Taris is an ecumenopolies; that doesn’t exactly identify specific search parameters.” Rakham’s voice was hard, contemptible. “Faradi, put her back in the tank, full volume this time.” As the Twi’lek moved towards the prisoner, Rakham added almost as an afterthought. “And show her the ‘special reel’ again if you haven’t already done so.” As soon as he mentioned that, the Wraith began to sob, screaming her compliance.

“Please! PLEASE!! I’m telling you the truth! The base is there at Taris! Sector 35874, Substrate Forn! It’s where the plants grow! THE PLANTS!!” Soon the prisoner was repeating the last few sentences like a mantra until individual words became incoherent. Soon afterward, Faradi affixed a depravation hood on her, stopping all light and sound from passing in or out.

Rakham nodded. “Good job, Faradi. I knew that you’d get that tralk to talk. We’ve got a lot to consider.” And although he couldn’t see clearly, Rakham looked at both Heditt and D’Aylanna. “Meet me in the Grand Hall. We’ve got a strategy to devise. I’ll meet you both there; I need to get some things from the Vault.”

Rakham left with a contemplative Heditt soon to follow. But before she left the room, D’Aylanna turned back to Faradi. “Excuse me, Master Faradi, what is the…subject doing out of the tank?”

Again, the Twi’lek smiled, showing several gold teeth, his green skin pulling his many facial scars tight. “I believe that there is still information to be mined from this particular source. And Master Rakham does expect a thorough job…” He began to clean some tools that had previously been hidden beneath a black towel. D’Aylanna noticed that the towel was wet but because of the dark color, she was unsure if the substance was water or something else more macabre.

Before she turned to leave, D’Aylanna put a hand upon the Twi’lek’s forearm. “Faradi…what did Rakham mean by ‘special reel?’” Despite the softness of her voice, D’Aylanna’s eyes were as hard as durasteel.

Faradi once again smiled, a vicious upturning of his lips. “I have a holofeed that is part of the ‘program.’ It is almost always effective, even against the most resilient of subjects. While you were gone, the subject viewed the ‘feed.” He began to clean some of the implements on his repulsor-tray. “It was directly afterwards that I contacted you and Master Rakham.” D’Aylanna crossed her arms in interest.

“…What does the reel show?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Faradi paused, his rapt eyes gazing intently into hers. Finally he spoke. “Would you like to see?” He asked without malice or humor. D’Aylanna thought about it long and hard but then slowly shook her head.

“No.” She turned to follow Rakham but stopped abruptly. “Thank you Faradi.” She dipped her chin respectfully before leaving the room, once again leaving the Twi’lek to his thoughts as he continued cleaning his instruments…

I'm not dead, bois and girls, I just wish I was.

CHAPTER 23: Power

The door to Rakham and Dala’s quarters was open, but Faradi knocked anyway before he entered. Rakham’s desk faced the door, but he was deep in thought, and the knock startled him.
“Please, Faradi, come in.” He said, looking up from the desk, and the mask he’d been studying so intently. Faradi obliged, walking in and sitting across from him.
“How are you doing, Master?” He asked pointedly, picking up the mask on the desk and turning it over in his long, spindly green fingers.
“Well, my wife and one of my dearest friends are in bacta tanks and there’s a shadow organization with more power than we know trying to kill us all. So, all things considered, I could be happier.”
“That isn’t quite what I mean, Master. Have you perceived any changes in your personality, or in the way you view things?”
Rakham sighed. “What do you mean, Faradi?”
“Over the past few weeks, Master, you’ve become… colder. Crueler. You seemed to take joy in what I did to the Revenant earlier today. The man I have served for these past years would have considered such things unnecessarily barbaric.” Faradi said, choosing his words carefully.
“You don’t think that’s justified, considering our circumstances? Do you believe that we should be coddling our enemy rather than destroying them?” Rackham was beginning to grow an angry, an unusual thing for the normally level headed man.
“Of course I don’t, but that’s just it, I never would. You, one the other hand, have always believed that mercy is the best path.”
“So you believe me a coward?” Rakham snarled, bolting to his feet. His hand brushed the lightsaber at his side,but Faradi remained seated.
“No, Master, but I suspect that you are being affected by an outside influence. This behavior is not at all like you.” Faradi said firmly, but calmly. A look of confusion passed subtly over Rakham's face, and he collapsed back into his chair.
“You’re right. Please, forgive me.” He said, a new wave of stress washing over him as he considered his recent actions through an objective lense. “What do you suspect is the cause? Is this the Revenant’s doing?”
“That is one possibility, Master, but I find myself more inclined to believe that the culprit is closer to home.” He held up the mask he’d been toying with since he sat down. “This artifact was never catalogued, and thus, never tested. I understand that desperate times call for desperate measures, but we have no idea what this… thing could be capable of. I’ll have to take it and run some tests.”
“Not yet, Faradi. We need it for the assault.” Rakham said, his eyes narrowing.
“Master, you will not be participating in any assault until I understand your condition and the effects of this mask on it’s holder.” Faradi replied evenly.
“What? You don’t have the authority to make that decision!” Rakham fumed, his anger building again, only adding to Faradi’s concern.
“We do, brother.” Nadia said softly from the doorway, with Berra standing over her shoulder. “Something is wrong with you, but Faradi will fix it. It will only take a week or two, and in the meantime, Berra and D’Aylanna will scout out the location the Revenant woman gave us.”
Again, Rakham’s anger faded to melancholy. He stood and walked around the desk. If one didn’t know better, they might believe that they’d seen Faradi flinch just a tiny bit as Rakham clasped a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Faradi. Do what you have to do.”

…

Faradi had been in the laboratory for twelve hours, poring over the mask. Any Force adept could feel the power emanating from the artifact, but under his instruments it practically hummed with energy. In order to test a theory, he’d placed two devices of his own invention near the mask. Each of them was a crystal that faintly pulsed with light, socketed into a silver sleeve holding an array of dials and knobs. These were not normal crystals, however. They were Force sensitive Shard crystals, one of them imbued with Light energy. This was to test Faradi’s initial hypothesis, which was that the mask twisted light energy. Already, the crystal was showing faint readings that confirmed the theory. However, it was the other crystal that intrigued Faradi, for this one was empowered with Darkness, but showed the same readings; it’s darkness was lessened by proximity to the mask. Faradi considered for a moment, then picked up a small spider droid from the table and began to speak to it.

…

Teks was perhaps not the most stable Templar. There was very little about her past that the green eyes, light haired woman could remember, and most what she could remember wasn’t very nice. In combat, she was not a master swordsman, and in the Force she was adept but not a prodigy by any means. However, sometimes, she just knew things, and she wasn’t entirely sure how or why. She had known how to find the bar on Nar Shadaa, and she had known to speak with Nadia Stark. She had known about the Templar Order, but she hadn't known that that knowledge would get her in trouble. Of course, she let them read her mind, and when they realized that she wasn’t an enemy, they allowed her to stick around. She knew that it was only so that they could keep an eye on her. She did not know, but she believed that she may have done some bad things in the times that she couldn’t remember, and she believed that the Templar Masters knew that.

At the moment, however, none of that concerned her, as her bright green eyes focused on a Dejarik table. Across from her, Rawbacca sat with a furrowed brow. He’d been backed into a corner, his last Rancor surrounded by Teks’ three pieces. Rawbacca made the move that Teks had suspected, and charged the piece in the middle with his Rancor, opening it’s flanks to her other pieces, which made quick work of the holographic monster. Rawbacca roared angrily, and had he been more perspective he may have seen the small grin play over his opponent’s lips. She did not say anything however, and stood to leave, before a little eight-legged messenger droid tapped one of it’s metal feet on her boot and began to play a message in Faradi’s voice.
“Madame, I hope not to inconvenience you, but I need your help with an experiment. Assuming you aren’t otherwise occupied, do you suppose you could make your way to the laboratory? Thank you.”
Teks regarded the machine for a moment, and decided that whatever Faradi wanted from her probably wasn’t much more unpleasant than having her arms ripped off by an angry Wookiee.

…

Within the hour, Teks found herself sitting in a comfortable chair in the laboratory, with electrodes all over her body, all of them leading to arrays of complex instruments, with Faradi dancing around them, muttering under his breath and occasionally offering words of encouragement to Teks.
“The hard spot is almost done, dear one.” He said, as he finally finished calibrating his last instrument. “All that’s left is to record the readings, and… done!” He gave her a beaming, gold-spotted smile and began to carefully but quickly remove his electrodes. “You always have been a quiet one, haven’t you?” He remarked amicably. She hadn’t said a word since arriving, only responding to his questions by grunting or shaking her head. “No bother, I can be chatty enough for us both. Now, remember, I need you to stay in my guest room here at the lab for the next few days, that way I can keep an eye on you and be sure that these tests have no negative effects on you. Wouldn't want you getting hurt now, would we?”
He helped her to her feet, and ushered her into the small but cozy quarters attached to the lab, and unceremoniously dumped the Mask into her hands.
“Alright, I need you to wear this, alright? Try and relax, and I’ll come check up on you in a bit.”
With that, he unceremoniously shut the door and marched to one of the cluttered desks spotting the laboratory. His objective was a holopad, which was connected to a machine, which was connected to the two Shard devices, which were connected to the electrodes which had previously been connected to Teks. The information on the pad confirmed what any Force sensitive could tell instinctually; there was something very, very dark hiding in that woman’s soul.

…

Rakham was sitting behind his desk with a sorrowful look on his face. In front of him sat a mostly full bottle of agavinol, a glass tumbler and the bent silver lightsaber hilt he’d picked up so long ago at the Jedi Archive. He picked up the weapon and turned it over in his hands, examining it from the pronged emitter to the macehead pommel. It was a little more worn now that it had been all those years ago when he picked it up in the Jedi Temple. As they often did in times like this, his thoughts drifted to that day. He’d been barely more than a boy when the Jedi were destroyed, but he was still certain that he would never become accustomed to the world as it was now. Things had been so simple, then. There was nothing more to his life but waking up in the morning and going on adventures with his brother, helping people and seeing all the beauty of the galaxy. There had been wars, but they were foolish squabbles between governments, not his wars, where his friends died. Now, he was locked into a fight for survival, and it seemed like every decision he made took him two steps backwards for every step forward and left more and more of the people he loved in the ground. He sat the lightsaber down gently, and took a sip of the golden liquid before reaching for his clay pipe and leather pouch of sweet tabacc. He was ready to end this conflict, but he had to figure out how. He only knew that the first thing he was going to have to do was retake control of himself.

CHAPTER END

Chapter 24: Hard Truths, Part I

Now…
As the hyperspace tunnel collapsed, the blueshift of lightspeed gave way first to starlines and then to individual star-points. Fenris’ Dirge smoothly entered into an intercept vector straight at the main planet in the system of the same name: Taris. The Hapan-made Mandalorian Infiltrator was the perfect ship for a covert strike: with the proliferation of Mando mercenaries—especially operating on Taris proper—the arrival of such a ship would be taken as a matter of course. This, coupled with a Mando IFF transponder courtesy of Hit Squad, was all the subterfuge that the mission intrusion required.

Within the main hanger bay, D’Aylanna Vih’Torr and Berra Tarun each stood at the front of a single file line, comprising of a Hit Squad Fireteam, four members apiece. The Darksider Templar, Teks, was sitting off to the side, as silent as she was enigmatic, perusing one of the dataterminals as she ran safety-checks on her sniper rifle, Teks’ pale face and blonde hair a stark contrast to her black tactical utilities. A black satchel hung from her shoulder, one that Teks hadn’t let out of her sight in the entire time on Fenris’ Dirge. They would be fast-roping down; as such, they would take advantage of the ship’s eight drop gates instead of the main hatch in the rear. Each member of the Hit Squad Fireteam would first repel down and establish a perimeter, quickly followed by Berra and D’Aylanna. Once in the Undercity, Teks would disembark separately, doing the initial recon and then establishing overwatch for the two groups. Jorya would pilot Fenris’ Dirge to hover at a safe distance, both to assist Teks as well as for exfil.

“…Mother…I need for you to check out forward viewer. I…I’m not sure what to do…” Jorya’s normally composed voice sounded a little unsteady, giving D’Aylanna pause. Without a word, the small Hapan woman keyed one of the holoprojector’s on the bulkhead. Almost immediately, D’Aylanna could understand her daughter’s trepidation.

Orbiting between the second and third moons of Taris was a star dreadnought, 19 kilometers in length. Different from the craft that D’Aylanna and Jorya had seen at the Kuat Drive Yards, this ship lacked the volume and keel depth of the black behemoth, the Eclipse. A twin to Vader’s Executor, this dreadnought belonged to the self-proclaimed “Warlord of the Empire,” Admiral Zsinj.

“It’s the Iron Fist.” D’Aylanna exclaimed. She wondered what it was doing so far from Zsinj’s capitol, the planet Serenno. “…Taris is one of the inexpensive places for the Iron Fist to resupply; it’s directly on the Hydian Way and a straight-shot to Serenno.” Or so D’Aylanna hoped. But it made sense: not only was the Hydian Way the local super-hyperspace route leading to-and-from Serenno, but indeed the only route that passed through the entire galaxy. “You’re doing fine, Jorya. Remember: we’re just another inconspicuous light-freighter of Mando mercs.” She reassured her daughter, momentarily opening herself to the Force, gently caressing her to supplement and strengthen. After a moment, she felt Jorya return her own feelings (along with her gratitude) in kind.

“Everything OK, D’Aylanna?” Berra’s voice was concerned. And while her senses were extraordinarily uncanny given her Miralukan ancestry, it also meant that she was quite literally blind; instead of eyes, a plain blindfold covered the upper half of her face, including the vestigial eye sockets. Still: D’Aylanna had seen Berra in the worst of circumstances—including combat—and had always come out victorious. It was testament that she was the other Force-user besides D’Aylanna leading the strikeforce on Taris. And D’Aylanna knew that Berra’s expertise with a lightsaber surpassed even her own.

All the meanwhile, Teks continued to service her weapon, although now her attention was diverted between her dataterminal, the sniper rifle, and the holoprojection of the super star destroyer. When D’Aylanna answered Berra, she noticed Teks’ green eyes stared unflinchingly at her.

“The Iron Fist is parked at the Lagrange points between the second and third moon. Our shipping lane passes close enough to it that Jorya was concerned; I assured her that her fears were groundless.” While D’Aylanna’s face and demeanor were completely calm, inside she wanted to raise the formidable shields of Fenris’ Dirge…except that this would compromise their cover, to say nothing of the mission. Still: no need to—

“Excuse me, ma’am? I believe I may know what’s going on.” With his helmet underneath his arm, Lieutenant Jorsk Un-Haku looked like the professional warrior that he was. After news of Marz’s unfortunate death, the members of Hit Squad went into mourning…Mandalorian style. For 38 hours—one hour for every one of the recognized Mando clans—every single member of Hit Squad (and their honored “family” such as the rest of the Templars) celebrated and hard. With loud music and harder liquor, they related tales of Marz’s deeds, especially those of his courage, strength, and, often times, insanity. And far from the somber affair that many cultures practiced concerning the death of a family member, the Hit Squad believed in the teachings of the Akaanati'kar'oya, celebrating one of their Sacred Own on his way to the Six C’oelum, the Mandalorian paradises of the afterworld, each representing one of the “Six Actions” of Mando’a doctrine.

And as one of the ranking members of Hit Squad, Lieutenant Un-Haku was offered the captaincy (or more precisely the position of “chieftain”) to take Marz’s place. He refused. Instead, he dedicated himself to the Hit Squad’s “Shadow Operations” and covert tactics. As such, he was the one in command of the two Fireteams that had accompanied Berra, Teks, and D’Aylanna.

“Rhydonium.” He stood tall before both women, looking intently at them.

“…Sorry Jorsk but…what?” Berra’s familiarity with the man was evident in her tone. He turned to the Miraluka, his face softening…if durasteel could be said to do so.

“Pardon, Lady Tarun. I believe the reason that the Iron Fist is here is for the contents of Taris’ second moon. That is, rhydonium. Zsinj would need it to refuel his flagship…and the second moon has plenty of it.” He glanced back at the holofeed, the activity around the dreadnought constant. Slowly nodding, the diminutive Hapan woman slowly spoke.

“Good thinking, Jorsk.” D’Aylanna sighed. “Looks like we’re about to find out…” she said quietly. Without deviating from her course, Jorya piloted Fenris’ Dirge on a close fly-by. Ten kilometers out. They could now see individual craft swarming around the Iron Fist, mostly TIE Interceptors and the occasional Avenger. 5 kilometers. Several freighters waited patiently in the space lane leading to the main hanger of the ship. One kilometer. The Iron Fist took up the entire ‘feed while in the cockpit, Jorya witnessed firsthand the incredible panoramic of the super star destroyer as it filled the canopy. Then Fenris’ Dirge was literally on top of the dreadnought.

And flew by without so much as a single hail.

Jorya kept heading inward towards the planet Taris, unchallenged and unmolested. Everyone aboard let out a collective sigh of relief. “Past. Rendezvous at Sector 35874, Substrate Forn. ETA: 3 minutes; Taris time approximate: zero one twenty-six, local.” The Togruta said over team comms. Speeding toward the planet on an intercept trajectory, everyone within the infiltrator felt primed, their thoughts foremost upon the scouting mission that Rakham had tasked them with after what they’d learned, both from the Revenant Wraith and later from Nadia…

<<<<< >>>>>

Then…
“I’ve called you all here as I’ve finally ascertained the particulars concerning the provenance of the Revenant…” Faradi said casually as he cleaned a seemingly innocuous looking metal rod, 20 centimeters in length. And although his heavily scarred face was free of any blood, the utilitarian dark smock that he wore looked as if it had been drenched, the overspray staining his sleeves and collar. D’Aylanna noticed that behind the Twi’lek a severed arm twitched reflexively beneath the black towel that only partially covered it. Looking into the holding tank, D’Aylanna also noticed that the Wraith was once again submerged in the water, cable tethers running to her neck, groin, ankles, and wrists. Well, wrist, she was missing her right arm at the shoulder although the Hapan woman could tell that the limb was already regenerating, albeit slowly. She focused on Faradi again once he began speaking.

Standing around the room, Rakham, Heddit, and D’Aylanna had been joined by Berra as Faradi had called for all Templars still not recovering from their treatment at the hands of the Revenant. Picking up a serrated saw, Faradi continued as he cleaned the blood and flesh stuck between the teeth. “The Revenant chart their origins back to the Jedi Civil War, only then they were the Revanchist…or at least a remnant of the order. These so-called ‘Jedi Crusaders’ became the Republic’s unofficial—although not unsanctioned—Mercy Core.” At this, Faradi quietly laughed to himself. “…Ironically, the Jedi Council of the time would not allow Jedi to fight against the Mandalorians, at least not openly. Jedi Master Revan…sidestepped this little detail, claiming that the Revanchist were no longer ‘Jedi.’ And so: the Mercy Core was formed from volunteers—not conscripts—and the Council’s prohibitions against Jedi participating were effectively and largely ignored.”

Rakham silently nodded as he stroked his dark beard. “So…you’re telling me that the Revenant have been around for almost four thousand years? And they’ve never been heard of before this?” The tall man didn’t even bother to mitigate his incredulous tone.

Faradi smiled patiently, as if he had anticipated the question. “Officially, no. When the Mandalorian Wars finally ended, it gave rise to a new Sith Empire, one that was first controlled by Darth Malak…and later, Revan himself.” He paused, allowing the revelation to sink in.

“So that’s how Revan came to power; the Republic’s historical archives are…taciturn regarding certain details surrounding the Mandalorian Wars and Revan’s Sith Empire…” D’Aylanna mused. “…But what about the Revenan…the Revanchist? They would not have all followed Revan or Malak to the Dark Side…”

Faradi smiled. “My lady, you are both correct…and mistaken. During the last of the fighting on Malachor V after Revan had effectively exiled the Mandalorians, he and Malak left for…places unknown, at least to myself…although there were whispers that the ancient Sith Emperor had broken them both, shaping them into an image of Himself. Whatever the truth, Darth Revan returned and most of the Revanchist took up his banner as Sith.” The Twi’lek became pensive. “Some did not; certainly the most famous of these was the so-named ‘Jedi Exile,’ Meetra Surik. But some other Revanchist decided to follow their own path, namely, the quest for immortality.” Pointedly, Faradi indicated the prisoner within the depravation tank. “You’ve seen the ability that some Revenant are able to rejuvenate even mortal wounds despite the severity. And according to the subject, the Revenant are close to perfecting it. Once they’ve done so, they shall be nigh unstoppable…” Even for as imperturbable as Faradi usually was, his tone echoed the trepidation that they all felt.

Quietly, Heddit spoke into the silence. “Fine. The Revenant are…were Revanchist. What the hell does that have to do with us?” Unconsciously, he ran his cybernetic hand through his unkempt brown hair. His yellow eyes turning hard, Faradi looked directly at Heddit.

“This group has been searching for the secrets of immortality for millennia. And during that time, they’ve had many members. Well…the subject finally let slip a name of an errant, former member that, along with a splinter group, absconded with many of the artifacts that the Revenant had collected during those centuries.” The Twi’lek looked deliberately at Rakham, saying a single name, like a pronouncement. “Kadmaur.”

Rakham closed his eyes, exhaling. “…Shavit… You’re cert—of course you’re sure.” The tall man scrubbed at his eyes and not just to dispel the blurriness. Faradi continued, picking up a small, silver book inlaid with strange markings, the same book that D’Aylanna had recovered from the defeated Wraith.

“This tome corroborates the subject’s story as well as filling in many of the details that I’ve told you. And while my own translations are far from complete, I assure you that my interpretation of the book’s ancient linguistics is accurate.” Faradi seemed to take the last to heart, almost as a personal affront. Berra broke the silence, her voice delicate as the filtered light of the room played upon her light olive features.

“Master Faradi, what happened? You said that Kadmaur and a ‘splinter group’ had taken the Force relics. What became of them?” Even with the blindfold, Berra’s face radiated concern.

Faradi slowly inhaled. “With exception of…or rather, including Kadmaur…dead, to a person. And although I’ve no proof, I believe from what Master Rakham has told me, that soon afterwards, Kadmaur rejoined the Jedi. ‘Strength in numbers’ and the like…” Again he fell silent, quietly contemplating while he absentmindedly fidgeted with the small silver book in his hand. Then, his eyes focusing upon the Revenant book, he looked pointedly at everyone within the room.

“The subject was most forthcoming with these histories. That, combined with the information within this book, has yielded a wealth of information… But I’m afraid that I’ve not yet discerned our next target.” Faradi looked to Rakham, apologizing. “Forgive me, master. I’ve yet to discover the Revenant’s center of operations.” He nodded towards the Wraith. “…And the subject claims to not know where Annoura has based the Revenant.” Again, Faradi looked pained. “...Master…forgive me. I know that she’s holding something back…but in this particular incident, I’m afraid that I believe her. She doesn’t know.”

Rakham put a hand on the Twi’lek’s shoulder, a comforting look on his face. “I know, Faradi. There’s no way that tralk could hide something of that magnitude from you. And great job getting that book translated. I’m just sorry that my eyes are still healing; something…familiar about what you told me…something… Well, you can wish in one hand or feed the sarlacc and see which fills up first…” Gathering everyone else within the room together with a look, he said. “Come with me. I’m waiting to hear back from Nadia and until that time, I’ve got some plans that we need to go over…”

<<<<< >>>>>

Chapter 24: Hard Truths, Part II

Now…
After fast-roping down to the surface, the two Fireteams made quick work of penetrating deeper into the depths, despite the decrepit state of the urban ruins that littered the landscape of the Upper Levels of Sector 35874, Substrate Forn. While the human populace of Taris was densely packed in both the Upper- and Lower-City, the Fireteams deftly avoided as much contact as possible. Those that they did come across…were merely left wondering as the Mandos ran past them without a word. And as they descended, the dilapidation of the buildings and surroundings became worse and more noticeable.

“Mistresses, once we reach the Undercity, I must caution you…where we are heading, it will be crawling with rakghouls.” Lieutenant Un-Haku’s quiet voice mirrored the hard look upon his dusky face as he addressed the Templar and Gray women. “Whatever you do, don’t let them touch you; just a bite or a scratch…” For a moment he paused. He was a brave man but…the rakghoul plague was an enemy that the Mandalorians could not fight. Indeed it was testament of their character that all members of the two Fireteams were volunteers and knew what perils awaited them in the Taris Undercity.

Berra put a comforting hand upon the tall Hit Squad lieutenant’s armored bicep, the other Fireteam members busy with the directional thermal detonators placed along the ground. “Jorsk…thank you.” She smiled, her entire face lighting up despite the ancestral blindfold that the Miralukan wore. Visibly relaxing, Jorsk quickly smiled down at Berra.

D’Aylanna noticed the subtle interplay between the two and suppressed a smile of her own. Clearly, the two were much more than friends…

“Fire in the hole.” One of the other Mandalorians softly warned, recalling D’Aylanna to the present. Plugging her ears while opening her mouth, she huddled behind the cover of the bulkhead along with the other members of the reconnaissance team. The muffled reports of multiple explosions shook the ground as shockwaves spread out from the detonations. After a moment, one of the Mando’s gave the “all clear” and the two Fireteams set belay lines in preparation for their descent.

As soon as the last Mando’s boots hit the ground, they activated their smart nylasteel ropes as they self-coiled. Setting up a perimeter with six members of the Fireteams, the rest in the center put their heads together for last-minute orders.

“Sergeant Alvai, you will take Besh with Mistress Vih’Torr along the southside of the avenue; I will head out with Aurek supporting Mistress Tarun northside.” Lieutenant Un-Haku instructed. As he was speaking, the Darksider Templar Teks disappeared, swallowed by the shadows of the Undercity without a trace of her presence.

Moving out, both Fireteams were virtually silent as they double-timed through the shadow-filled causeways leading towards the tallest structure in the vicinity: a ziggurat standing almost as high as the hard rooftop/underfloor of Lower City. All around them, a grinding cacophony was constant against the decaying urban backdrop, the noise accompanying them while they closed the distance towards the step-pyramid, the last Revenant base. Even though there were multiple sources, the light seemed…suppressed.

D’Aylanna had opened herself fully in the Force, projecting her presence outward, aiding her lack of low-light vision. On the periphery of her senses, she could feel Berra and—much further—Teks do likewise. She had her lightsaber hilt in hand, ready at a moment’s notice to ignite. She could feel multiple lifeforms both in front and behind them, but none within their direct path. But one and all, they exhibited the wild emotions of non-sentients within the Force. …Rakghouls… D’Aylanna thought.

Silently, they made their way along the causeways, avoiding any contact. Racing through the twilight illumination, they all saw signs of dereliction and abandonment, at least empty of all sentient life; the rotting buildings were covered with a strange bioluminescent moss and a putrid, reeking sludge that reacted adversely to the movement of the Fireteams’ passage.

Suddenly, Berra’s voice came over the comms. “There’s a small group almost directly in front of Aurek, all non-sentient.” When she spoke next, her tone was tentative. “…I don’t think that they are aware of us but…something… Something doesn’t feel right." As soon as the last word had come from the Miraluka’s mouth, Jorsk’s baritone came over the comms.

“Agreed. Aurek, form up on me, surrounding Mistress Tarun.” There was a momentary pause. “Mistress Teks? Have you established overwatch, ma’am?” Despite the gravity of the situation, Jorsk’s voice was calm and measured.

“Affirmative,” came the single, almost whispered word. Teks. “…Standby.” Even though D’Aylanna couldn’t see or sense her, the Hapan woman felt better knowing that the unseen Darksider Templar was covering them.

She felt it before anything else, an…itch in the Force. But even before D’Aylanna could give word, Berra’s shout came over comms. “Ambush! Rakghoul!”

D’Aylanna turned to the female Mandolorian sergeant as Besh Squad moved as one. “Sergeant Alvai, keep your squad behind me and on my flank. I’ll line them up for your shots.” Before she got too far ahead, D’Aylanna heard Alvai respond, her voice professional with just a touch of anticipation.

“Understood, ma’am.” And with that, Besh Squad sped towards Aurek’s position. What greeted them was a nightmare: having somehow flanked Aurek, the Squad was a lone island amidst a sea of rabid rakghouls, a virtual ocean of filthy, grotesque bodies that fought on mindlessly in an attempt to overwhelm the Fireteam.

But Hit Squad was prepared. The team showed extreme fire discipline, picking off those rakghouls that strayed too close to their elevated position with their blaster rifles while the heavy-weapons specialist lay down a suppressing fire with a heavy repeater. Below and in front, Berra’s teal lightsaber was a wall of death, impenetrable against the tide of bodies that had thus far failed to get close. And with sniper support from Teks on overwatch, Aurek was doing well.

However, D’Aylanna knew that Aurek held a tenable position. The mindless fury of the rakghoul could only be kept at bay for so long, at least against a single Fireteam. But she had plans; en route to the ambush site, D’Aylanna had given instructions to Besh concerning what she wanted for them to do. And like the consummate professionals that they were, the Hapan woman smiled tightly as Fireteam Besh set up position and went to work. After taking adequate cover, Besh Squad formed up a pincer and opened fire. Caught between the two Fireteams, the rakghoul in the rear turned…only to be burned down amid overlapping fields of fire. Furthermore, Berra and D’Aylanna worked their sabers, cutting entire swathes of rakghoul down.

But even with the element of surprise, their elevated position, and fire superiority, the rakghoul horde soon threatened to bread through. Lieutenant Un-Haku and Sergeant Alvai pulled their Fireteams close, all eight creating a perimeter and laying down suppressing fire outward. Both heavy-weapons specialists burned through three fully-charged packs within minutes. And still the rakghouls came.

Suddenly, one of the Hit Squad mercs, Corporal Irris Caballa, was grabbed and bodily dragged from the formation before her teammates could react, her shouts echoing under her Mandalorian helmet and becoming increasingly panicked. Berra projected as powerful a Force Push as she could and prepared to cut down any of the creatures that got in her way. But before she could move, a strong yet gentle hand clamped down upon her shoulder, stopping her. Jorsk’s quiet voice came from behind her head. “Mistress…look.”

No sooner had his hand grabbed Berra’s shoulder than the rakghouls converged again on Corporal Caballa, taloned hands tearing at her limbs, her helmet ripped from her head. As soon as Caballa’s head was fully in the light, everyone could see that she had several lacerations bleeding profusely, the red blood already darkening to black. Several of the creatures had bitten deeply between the armored plates in the exposed neck-, elbow-, and knee-joins. Berra knew that any further attempt to rescue was a useless gesture.

Even as Corporal Caballa screamed, her voice began to change becoming harsh, unintelligible, and guttural. Her pale features took on a deep brown hue, the veins in her face turning black. Her cheeks tore themselves open, an enormous mouth splitting her bulbous head. With sickening, wet pops, her eyes began to shift to the side of her head, finally exploding from their sockets as the holes sealed shut while the…thing that used to be Irris Caballa keened hauntingly. With loud clangs, the Mandalorian armor hit the ground as the changing body of the newly-formed rakghoul sloughed off the human flesh that was no longer attached to the rough reptilian hide underneath. Of Corporal Caballa, there was nothing left.

Seeing what happened to Irris was bad enough; D’Aylanna wondered what it was that Berra had sensed, seeing the Miraluka violently shudder. “…Jorsk…do what you can…please.” Berra’s voice was steady, soft, with an undercurrent of durasteel. With measured movements, her lightsaber scythed in wide arcs, giving the Hit Squad lieutenant the necessary time to throw one of the thermal detonators from his belt with pinpoint accuracy. By now, the rakghoul had congregated again and started to surge forward, despite Teks’ expert sniping. Precious seconds passed after the words “Fire in the hole!” had left Jorsk’s lips.

The shockwave felled everything in a radius of 50 meters, vaporizing the rakghoul horde up to 35 meters. It had been danger-close…but effective. And necessary. The only living rakghoul were quickly dealt with as Teks and Hit Squad burned them down; any that got close were fodder for Berra’s and D’Aylanna’s sabers.

“Aurek, Besh, pull back to the Temple. Now!” Even though Jorsk’s voice was soft, everyone could hear the urgency in it. At a run, the Fireteams sped towards the ziggurat. They did not stop until they all took shelter in the lone entrance, both Berra and D’Aylanna reliant upon the Force to tell them if anyone else lay in front of them. They sensed no one.

Gulping deep breaths, both Aurek and Besh took turns on perimeter and drinking from their canteens. Replacing spent powerpacks, every member of Hit Squad readied themselves behind Berra and D’Aylanna, the two Jedi now taking the lead that Hit Squad had gotten them to their objective.

“Sergeant Alvai, take command of the Fireteams, split into two-by-twos; lieutenant…you’re coming with us.” D’Aylanna stoically intoned. “Hit Squad needs must cover our egress. Mistress Tarun, myself, and Jorsk must reach the Sacrificial Chamber and secure the objective there.” The diminutive Hapan woman grinned. “Watch your corners and keep the path clear. If everything goes right, we’ll be tearing back through the tunnels faster than a rancor eating a Gamorrean.”

“Ma’am, question? What about Mistress Teks?” Sergeant Alvai asked, the tautness doing nothing to diminish the dangerous look upon her face.

D’Aylanna and Berra exchanged a look before the Miralukan answered. “She’s got her own responsibilities.” Her blindfolded face broached no argument. She knew that Teks would enter the Revenant base separate from them, closer towards the top.

As they traversed the hallways leading further into the ziggurat, D’Aylanna began to get a “feel” of the building; she’d seen several in Faradi’s Intel Report to recognize that this pyramid was similar to the old structures that the Revanchrist had erected during Darth Revan’s Sith reign. As such, she knew that they needed to get to a central chamber, one which should house the datanode that Rakham was looking for.

At the first major junction, Berra instructed the first 2-person team to remain, both to maintain watch as well as secure their exfil. And as they continued onward, they came to two more major intersections, repeating the process with the fireteams. And then, it was only Berra, D’Aylanna, and Jorsk.

After many long minutes, they finally arrived in the pyramid’s inner sanctum, the large room lit by an eerie red light that pulsed in time with a slow, tripartite beat that seemed to come from the foundations of the pyramid itself. And in the center of the room stood a single, slender figure, one that Berra and D’Aylanna had been told about from the other Templars.

Annoura.

Even as the three of them cautiously approached the Revenant woman, they had their guards up, both women having ignited their lightsabers. Jorsk was aiming his heavy blaster at Annoura, the teal and purple radiance of the two womens’ lightsabers casting strange shadows upon his face. “Get on the ground now, you tralk.” Jorsk’s voice was unwavering. The Revenant woman said nothing, her face an unreadable mask. “I won’t tell you again…” Jorsk threatened, taking a step forward.

“No, Jorsk, wait!!” Berra said…a split-second too late. As Jorsk’s foot came into contact with the ferrocrete-paneled floor, it suddenly gave way, throwing the Hit Squad lieutenant off-balance. As Berra tried to grab him, her hand wrapped around the tall man’s arm to prevent him from falling. She would have been successful…except that then the Revenant woman projected a powerful Force Push that struck both Berra and Jorsk, sending them careening down the steep, stone slide.

Leaving D’Aylanna alone with Annoura. Cautiously, the diminutive Hapan approached the woman, her purple saber held unwaveringly in front of her.

Only…now that she was close, D’Aylanna noticed that the Revenant woman seemed to…”ripple” was the best word to describe it. Focusing with the Force instead of her eyes, D’Aylanna felt the ripples all the more clearly. Mentally nodding, she projected outward, using the Force as a scalpel, shredding through the mirage. Almost instantly, the image of Annoura shattered, exposing the true visage of the being who stood unafraid and draped in shadows.

“…So you are the fool who thinks to challenge me. You could not best my Domina Annoura and nor shall you defeat me.” As the man spoke, his face illuminated by the pulsating red light, D’Aylanna could finally make out details: this man’s face, forehead, and bald crown was even more heavily tattooed than the Wraith that she’d caught. His black robes seemed to draw in the shadows, creating an aura of darkness around its fringe. Yellow eyes not unlike those belonging to the Sith were surrounded by black sclera and his forearms were covered in ritualistic scars, though how the mortification could possibly be permanent after what Faradi had told them concerning Revenant rejuvenation was beyond D’Aylanna.

While he spoke, he shrugged out of his robes, standing bare-chested in high-waist loose black trousers. Though he was slender, his musculature reminded D’Aylanna of an anatomy chart; the striations of his muscles against other tissues were razor sharp. And within his hand was a dark saber that had several aggressive prongs attached to the emitter. With a snap-hiss, his crimson blade sprang into existence as the Revenant was already flowing into what D’Aylanna recognized as Water Forms from her husband, Zearic. But if her husband was an adept, it was obvious that this man was a master. Determinedly, she met the Revenant, her purple blade upon his red, and it was all that she could do just to defend herself…

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Chapter 24: Hard Truths, Part III

Just before Berra hit the hard floor, she slowed herself enough with the Force that she alighted gently, standing with her saber ready. She sensed rather than saw that Annoura had dropped her several floors below the chamber that she’d been in…and must return to. She knew that D’Aylanna was an excellent saber practitioner but she also remembered her fallen Templars… And Annoura was the cause.

Hearing a soft groan, the Miraluka was thrust to the present, remembering that she’d not been the only one to fall to the Revenant’s ruse. “Jorsk!” She said quietly, intently, running towards him. Automatically Delving him to see the extent of his injuries, she ran her hand along the Mandalorian’s muscular jaw, the unique smell of his beskar armor mixing with his own scent, one that she’d come to find comfort in…

“…I…I’m ok, Berra.” His voice was soft but strong. “My armor took the worst of it.” Suddenly silent, she could feel him looking at her, his callused hands gentle upon her face. Impulsively, she went upon her tiptoes, kissing him almost savagely. Without any hesitation, Jorsk returned her kiss in kind, the two of them entangled for a moment shared in time.

Breathless, Berra layed her head upon Jorsk’s breastplate, wishing all the while that they were anyplace other than where they were. But the Miraluka was too much a realist to indulge in such fantasies. Mirroring her own resolve, Jorsk was already pulling away, inspecting the tunnel that they found themselves in. Consulting a datapad built in his armor, the Mandalorian did several mental calculations while Berra projected her Force senses outward, wary of any acute threat. As before, she could feel the oppressiveness of Force Suppression, effectively limiting the range of her senses within the pyramid. …Just like when we encountered the rakghoul... Alert, Berra and Jorsk proceeded deeper into the labyrinthine paths, consulting the Hit Squad lieutenant’s datapad to navigate.

“Take the next right.” Jorsk’s quiet voice was almost drowned out by the droning coming from the blood-red illuminated walls and foundation. Nodding, Berra turned down the tunnel, senses acute and vigilant. But even as she focused, the Suppression kept everything but a few meters obfuscated from her awareness. “Next left will deposit us into an antechamber with a set of stairs leading directly back to the inner sanctum.” He glanced at Berra, a resolute look upon his face. “I’m sure that Mistress Vih’Torr is fine.” Jorsk said as if reading the Miraluka’s mind.

Smiling, Berra looked up at the Mandalorian, her face expressing her fondness. “I agree, Jorsk. Still: let’s hurry.” Grabbing her hand, Lieutenant Un-Haku began running with Berra closely behind him. They emerged from the tunnel and were halfway through the antechamber when they heard a deep rumble coming from above.

Jorsk looked up just as Berra screamed. “By Ashla, Jorsk RUN!!”

Before either of them could move the ceiling opened, divulging a flood of frenzied rakghouls.

   <<<<< >>>>>

D’Aylanna’s saber once again stopped the Revenant’s mere centimeters from her face, momentarily locking each combatant face-to-face. Or as near as their height disparity would allow; the man towered over the Hapan Master. But that was not his only advantage; his saberwork was even superior to her own. Thinking again of her husband, she tried a tactic she’d seen him employ.

“Annoura must be running out of fodder if she’s sending another Wraith to do her work.” She tried as surreptitiously as possible to focus on her task without the Revenant noticing. Pushing against the red blade, she broke their lock, once again going on the offensive. But the man’s defenses were impenetrable.

Grinning wickedly, the Revenant smoothly replied, his voice oily and self-assured. “A Wraith? Is that what you think me? You are an even bigger fool than I’d supposed.” His smile disappeared, his face twisting in a cruel caricature reminding D’Aylanna of a Hapan Noh Mask, an accruement that was placed on the head of the dead Queen Mother, meant to frighten off the dark spirits of the Afterlife and ensuring that Ta’a Chume reached Elysium unmolested. “I am no mere Wraith, woman.” He suddenly pressed against D’Aylanna’s defenses hard, his crimson saber seemingly everywhere at once. “I am that which stands behind my Domina, basking in her light, granting me life. I am her Shade.” He kicked out at her, almost connecting with her stomach. D’Aylanna turned at the last instant, taking his heel on one of her hips, not enough to disable but the blow still hurt.

And still the Shade attacked.

Even against Gaetana, D’Aylanna had never fought a more skilled saber practitioner. Each blow came closer to hitting the mark, each cut seemingly faster than the last. D’Aylanna was a master…but she was hard pressed by this…Shade. This time, it was he that locked their sabers together.

“My Domina will flay the skin from your body, woman; your blue lips and hair shall adorn my cloak as testament of the Templar’s failures. And you shall yet live in agony until my Domina has tired of you. Then, and only then shall—” D’Aylanna’s punch caught the Shade unaware has he spoke, whipping his head to the side in what would be a knock-out blow to almost everyone else. But not the Shade. Before she could take advantage of the Shade’s stunned state, he was already advancing upon D’Aylanna, spitting blood from a furious face. D’Aylanna thought she heard a tooth hit the ground along with his spittle.

“You’ll pay for that, bitch.” The Shade’s attack was renewed and more savage than before. Each cut that D’Aylanna parried was quickly followed by another, giving her no chance to riposte. She seemed to be beaten, dropping to her knees. Yellow eyes alight with evil glee, the Shade grabbed his saber hilt with both hands, determined to bisect D’Aylanna with a powerful overhead slice.

It was the opening that the Hapan Master was waiting for.

Quickly accumulating the Force that she’d slowly, carefully drawn upon, she projected the result out towards the Shade: a dark pulsing orb of Kinetite. The Shade was completely caught by surpise, the Kinetite detonating in front of him, throwing him across the chamber where he hit the wall with a sickening, wet thud. Crumpling to the ground, D’Aylanna breathed a sigh of relief, once again thankful for Zearic’s combat pragmatism: he’d tried using that same tactic on her in training and had nearly succeeded. It was only due to luck that she’d noticed what he was attempting and was able to counter it. But with D’Aylanna’s superior Force skills and power, she was able to successfully employ it against the Shade.

Walking over to the motionless body, D’Aylanna tried to catch her breath. It had been a close call, a very close one…that Shade had nearly—

Before she even registered movement, the Shade sprang to action, igniting his saber in a vicious cut that threatened to decapitate D’Aylanna. While she was able to avoid getting her head cut off, the Shade’s red blade cut through her saber’s hilt, the now-useless emitter flying away, lost in the shadows of the room. And still the Shade came. D’Aylanna lost ground quickly, trying to gather strength to utilize against the Shade but had no time to recover. Propelling several simple yet powerful Force Pushes against the Shade were all that D’Aylanna could manage but even they were quickly rebuffed, the Shade inexorably advancing, his saber always just centimeters from her.

Suddenly, D’Aylanna’s back hit the wall, knocking the breath from her. Seeing this, the Shade’s lips spread in a rictus-like grin as he prepared a killing-blow. The Hapan woman fought to clear her head, seeing the blood-red blade arcing towards her. The Shade’s muscles rippled, having put forth all of his efforts in the cut, his blade an extension of his arm just as he was an extension of his Domina. He was Death and had come to collect this Hapan woman’s soul, her body forfeit. His teeth reflected the red light as his lips stretched taut in a maniacal grin as he screamed, “DIE!!”

His saber stopped as if he’d hit a force field, the small Hapan’s dark eyes drilling into his. Astonished, he glanced down the length of the blade, disbelieving what he was seeing. The woman had grabbed the saber by the blade with her bare hands.

D’Aylanna had mastered tutaminis, even having been compared to the ancient Jedi Satele Shan in skill. Gripping the red blade, her hands were insulated from the plasma by the Force. Slowly, she smiled at the Shade, shock still evident upon his face. Now D’Aylanna could defeat her opponent; he’d underestimated her ski—

In a flurry of motion, the Shade released the saber, drawing his arm to his right side, a wet, slicing sound accompanying the move. Unsure of what it had portended, D’Aylanna was about to act when she heard a several droplets hit the ground at her feet. …By the Maker, what…? Looking down, she saw a growing pool of blood. Confused she looked from it and back to the Shade. And she finally felt the pain: her neck had been cut cleanly, the blood running freely, soaking the front of her clothes. Seeing the look of triumph on his face, she felt herself collapse, light-headed and disoriented. But part of her looked, really seeing the details that her eyes took in.

And she finally noticed a half-meter metal blade that protruded from the Shade’s arm; it must have been surgically grafted within his forearm and cybernetically controlled…or at least that’s what D’Aylanna thought. Her eyelids felt heavy. She tried to direct Healing flows to her ruined neck but she was having trouble concentrating… Slumping over, she sluggishly looked up, seeing the Shade come into her field of view.

His eyes were pitiless, the inked skin of his head and face glistening with sweat. But he stood tall, the vibroblade projecting from his arm reflecting the light as it slowly withdrew back into his skin, the laceration knitting together as she watched. Deliberately, he called his saber back to his hand from where D’Aylanna had dropped it.

And this time when he raised his arm, D’Aylanna knew that she could do nothing to stop it…

   <<<<< >>>>>

Berra’s teal saber cut through three more rakghoul bodies, only for them to be replaced by twice as many. Jorsk was behind her; she would not let the rakghoul get to him…

“Jorsk! Can we kill them all with one of your thermal detonators?” The panic in her tone was subtle but it was nevertheless there.

“No, they must be grouped tighter together!” He shot a rakghoul in the head, one that had come too close to Berra. There only means of egress—the stairs leading upward—was in the far corner, a sea of rakghoul between them and escape…

Berra knew that she could not kill all of them with her lightsaber, especially with the Force Suppression still clouding her senses. Frantically, she searched for a solution while her lightsaber continued to cut down still more rakghoul. “I’ll think of something, Jorsk!” She said, trying to keep the fear from her voice. …By Ashla, think dammit…! But nothing came to mind.

“…Berra…” Jorsk’s voice came from behind her. “…You must live. Live and inform the Templars.” The Hit Squad lieutenant never once stopped shooting. “You must save Mistress Vih’Torr. Only you can.”

“…Wha…Jorsk…wh-what are you saying?” Her saber cut down another two rakghoul, severing their heads from their bodies. “Jorsk?! Jorsk!” She tried to back up beside him but could not without allowing the rakghoul tide to inundate them.

“Get D’Aylanna! Get the hell out of here!” And with that, Jorsk rushed into the rakghoul fray, punching, kicking, and shooting, all the while drawing the horde tighter and closer to him.

“Jorsk! JORSK!! NO!!!” Berra’s screams were loud enough to even drown out the rakghoul’s collective noise. She tried cutting a swath towards him but the Mandalorian had pulled back into the far corner opposite the stairs. And, as if seeing it in slow motion, she saw him pull a thermal detonator from his belt, his thumb depressing the dead-man’s switch. She knew that there was nothing that would stop it from detonating once Jorsk released the button. “…Jorsk…” she said, quite, miserable, and longingly.

Almost every rakghoul had grouped together, packed tightly as each fought to reach the Mandalorian. Jorsk’s helmet was finally pulled off, revealing a face, sad yet unafraid. Looking directly at the Miraluka, Jorsk smiled wistfully even as the rakghouls clawed and bit at him. “…I love you, Berra…” He said quietly, closing his eyes. His thumb released the button.

The ensuing explosion shook the entire room, the congregated rakghoul either vaporized, shredded, or likewise maimed. Sensing the inevitable—and upon hearing Jorsk’s last words—Berra had summoned a Force Shield to protect her. The few rakghoul stragglers she quickly dispatched with her lightsaber. Of Jorsk Un-Haku, there remained nothing…

Nothing but memories.

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The Shade’s arm fell, his red saber arcing through the air in an executioner’s cut. The man’s wicked smile arrogant and exultant. Staring from her dark eyes, D’Aylanna’s gaze never once wavered, defiant to the last.

A teal blade intercepted the Shade’s, a look of utter confusion on his face as Berra swept in, knocking the Shade backwards. Berra was silent but the look on her face was such that it gave even the Shade pause.

“…So…another Templar to kill. You will join your tralk friend in death, eyeless…” Like before, the Shade savagely attacked. Berra met him, blow for blow. Across the room, they fought, their sabers an almost solid cloud of plasma, teal-white and red-white. Before long, the Shade no longer was smiling, his taunting a thing of the past as he found himself now the one hard-pressed by Berra’s saberwork.

They both fought on a metaphysical level as well as with their sabers, Force Pushes, Illusions, and Mind Control all threatening to overwhelm each opponent. The Shade locked up Berra’s saber, his arm positioned exactly in front of the Miraluka’s face. Smiling inwardly, the Shade activated the cybernetics that projected the vibroblade forth through his skin. He would skewer this insolent Templar, impaling her through her head where her eyes should be. Too bad she couldn’t se—

Berra’s quick riposte had provided her with the opening she’d been waiting for. As the Shade positioned his arm, Berra pivoted, the sudden thrusting blade instead missing her head. Bringing her saber around she made a tight arc through the air, unexpectantly reversing her cut and going around the Shade’s red blade. Her teal lightsaber sliced effortlessly through flesh, sinew, and bone, decapitating the Shade. Upon recovery, she then cut downwards, bisecting the body, both halves falling apart. Breathing steadily, Berra closed down her lightsaber. Hurriedly, she ran over to the fallen Hapan Master.

“D’Aylanna? D’Aylanna!” She gently directed Healing flows into the severed flesh of the smaller woman’s neck. But there was a lot of blood that had pooled upon the ground, staining D’Aylanna’s clothes. “D’Aylanna!”

But the Hapan woman remained motionless, no longer breathing.

Here's what the brothers are up to.

CHAPTER 25: Alliance

The first thing Dala saw when her blue eyelids fluttered open was Rakham’s smiling face. For a moment, her eyes went wide, but then her expression relaxed as she felt her husband’s big hands over her own.
“Hey there.” He choked softly, tears welling in his eyes but a wide smile on his lips. “You’re safe now.” His voice cracked. “You’re safe.”
She bolted upright in bed, and the two wrapped their arms around one another for the first time in weeks. Both of them sobbed, but neither was ashamed, and they stayed like that for a long time.

…

“How long was I under?” Dala asked quietly. They sat side by side on her gurney in the Archive’s makeshift medical bay, leaning against one another.
“A week. We did our best to heal you using the Force, but the medics said that to make sure you didn’t suffer any long term physical effects, you needed to spend time in a bacta tank.” Rakham replied.
“Is Tasrii okay? What about Stikes and Sahka?”
“All safe. They came out of their tanks this morning.”
“What about the Revenant? What’s been happening?”
“Berra, Teks and D’Aylanna are scouting out a lead right now. We’ve… we’ve learned a lot. It appears that once again, we’re paying for the sins of Kadmaur.” Rakham’s face grew bitter. He opened his mouth as though to continue, but the door slid open with a hiss, revealing a familiar suit of patched red Mandalorian armor that neither of them had seen in a very long time. From one gloved hand, a matching red helmet hung. In the other, there was a silvery chrome lightsaber hilt. Tasrii Kepressa stood as tall and proud as she ever had, her shaved head crowned by dull horns and her blue eyes sharp as knives. When she spoke, her voice rang clear as a bell.
“We’re under attack.”

…

The three Templars strode purposefully towards the great hall. They were joined as they marched, first by Sahka Tekk, who handed Dala a weapon belt and a Templar pendant. The crystal pendant went around her neck, and the belt, bearing a black hilted, green bladed lightsaber and DL-44 from the armory went around her waist. Next, Faradi caught up to them, wearing his silver Ram’s Head war mask and flipping his lightsaber hilt nonchalantly in his hand. Finally, Nadia caught up to them breathlessly, having run from the command center deep in the Archive.
“The ship is a medium sized transport with mixed life signs on board. We cannot hail them, but they are transponding Heditt’s authorization codes.” She panted.
“Heditt’s code? But isn’t he…” Rakham said.
“We have not had contact with him since he departed, but that is not unusual. The concerning thing is their refusal to answer our calls. The Narudar is coming in from low orbit and preparing for engagement, and there’s a platoon of mercs setting up in the great hall.”
“There’s only one way to get information from Heditt, and that’s for him to trust you. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I guarantee he isn’t compromised.” Rakham said confidently.
“This one hopes you’re right, masster.” Sahka chimed in, adjusting the fit of her armored vest and checking the charge on a shattergun she’d picked up in the armory. Behind them, Nadia took Tasrii's hand and stood on her tiptoes to kiss the Zabrak on her lips.
“Are you sure you are ready to fight, dear one?” She asked quietly.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Tasrii responded with a confident smile before donning her helmet and locking it down. “Besides, I’m sure Rak’s right, there’s probably an explanation for this. You know how close to the chest Heditt likes to play his cards sometimes.”

As the group entered the great hall, they found four full fireteams setting up defenses, being overseen by the Morn brothers, Callo and Stringer, and the new leader of Hit Squad, Commander Yefim Tarr. Edda Veek and Rawbacca were helping the mercenaries erect barricades around tripod mounted autoblasters.
“Sir!” Commander Tarr shouted, trotting over to the group of Templars. “We’re ready to throw quite the welcoming party here, but if you can spare them, we could use a few of your Force sensitives in the defensive line, just in case it is indeed the Revenant.
“Of course. Sahka, you’re in charge. Keep Edda and Rawbacca here to assist.”
“Edda, Masster? Is that one prepared for battle?” Sahka asked.
“You’re forgetting that she’s been proficient in the Force ever since she came here, Sahka. The only thing I’m teaching her is lightsaber combat. I promise you, her abilities are more than sufficient.” Rakham replied.
“Of coursse. Apologies, Masster.”
“No need for them, Sahka. Hold the line.” He gave her a lopsided salute, and then headed for the exit, with Dala, Tasrii, Nadia and Faradi at his sides. As they reached the doors leading to the tunnel, a squad of Mandalorian commandos caught up to them and took up escort positions.
“Sir, we’ve received a transmission from the Narudar. They’re in an escort position behind the approaching ship. According to their scans, the vessel is unarmed, but will be landing at any second.” One of the commandos reported.
“Well, I suppose we should go and see what they want.” Rakham replied almost nonchalantly, and cast open the heavy wooden doors, leading the group towards the light at the end of the tunnel.

…

Edrian Nemo stood at the top of the loading ramp and looked down it with apprehension as his shipmates descended it confidently. He really would have preferred not to die on this mountaintop, but between the Mandalorian destroyer with target locks on his ship and the eclectic but hardened posse of Templars and their mercenaries marching out of a gaping black chasm in the mountainside, he wasn’t certain he’d make it off of this desolate moon. He straightened his heavy brown overcoat, patted his carefully slicked back black hair and well groomed beard, and, with a sigh, took the first steps down the ramp.

…

“What the hell?” Rakham muttered under his breath as he stepped out into the light and saw the spectacle unfolding before him. A transport that looked as though it might fall apart at the seams was sitting on the pad, and from it disembarked rank after rank of battered, rusted droids.
“Iron Knights. Those are Iron Knights.” Faradi said, disbelief in his voice. “Where the scattered hell did Heditt find Iron Knights?”
“What are they?” Tasrii asked. All of the Templars could feel that the droids were very much living beings.
“Sentient, Force-sensitive Shard crystals, mated to battle droid bodies. They were created and trained by the Jedi Master Aqinos, who was exiled as punishment for his efforts. He took the Iron Knights with him and went into hiding. I heard that they survived the purge, but this…” As Faradi spoke, the last of the droids stepped off the rank, and formed into orderly ranks. There appeared to be fifty of them, split into squads of five. Behind them came a man with pale skin, dark hair and sharp, handsome features, wearing a rakish brown overcoat over classy but dated-looking clothing.
“We come in peace!” He shouted with a smile and a wave, as several more people descended the ramp behind him. “Your brother sent us!”

…

“Well, my name is Captain Edrian Nemo, and Heditt’s an old friend of mine. We met on Hapan during an insurrection-related incident, where he saved my life more than a few times. So when he called on me for help, well, I couldn’t just hang the old man out to dry. He had me take my ship to… well, to a planet, and pick up the rest of these reprobates and deliver them here, along with myself. Our radio equipment’s been on the fritz ever since we hit an energy storm near Coruscant, so we weren’t sure if any of our transmissions were getting through to you. I have to tell you, that big Mando ship made us just a little nervous on the approach. Oh, yeah, and my parents were Force sensitives who passed their gifts and knowledge on to me, which I assume is why Heditt, in his infinite wisdom, called upon me.” Nemo said. He was sitting at the meeting table, along with the two humanoids accompanying him and the leader of the Iron Knights. Across from them, the Templar masters sat, patiently listening to each person’s story.
“I’m Rys Treller.” A dark skinned human man with signs of significant cybernetic augmentation spoke next. “Heditt got me out of a tight spot with the Imps back during the Rebellion, so I owe him one. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m the best explosives tech alive, and I know my way around a lightsaber. Learned a little bit about the Force from my Grandad, before the Imps got him.”
The third was elderly Togruta man, though he moved with surprising grace and fluidity, and his eyes were sharp. It took a moment to realize who the man was, but he seemed familiar to both Rakham and Dala.
“Master Dena!” They both said in unison. The old man smiled.
“I wondered how long it would take you two upstarts. Heditt told me that you had discovered a new healing technique and taken it upon yourselves to defy the flow of nature and time, but not everyone had that luxury, so you’ll have to forgive me for growing old.” He said, his friendly demeanor belying his grumpy tone. “For those not in the know, I was a member of the Jedi Order who managed to survive in hiding. Dala and I sat across the table from young Rakham in disciplinary hearings more often than I care to recall.” He added, eliciting a toothy grin from Rakham.
“Dala, I don’t remember seeing you in those hearings.” He said.
“You were usually so hungover, I’m surprised you remember them at all.” She said, only half joking.
“The Drunken Consular, that’s what we called him.” Dena added with a laugh.
“Alright, alright, we can reminisce about the glory days later, you two. I’m very interested to learn more about our other new friend.” Rakham said.
“I am Kathracite.” The Iron Knight said, standing and bowing to the masters. “Master Heditt Crescentfall recruited me and the Iron Knights who follow me to serve the Templar Order. Our goals, as stated by Master Heditt, are to protect the Templar Archive, protect the Templar Knights and obey the orders of the Templar Masters. It is with great anticipation that we await the opportunity to serve you, Masters, but I must inform you that many of us require maintenance on our droid bodies to be considered in fighting form. Our division was lost long ago, you see, our ship set adrift in space until it crashed on a desolate planet. We ran out of supplies to perform upkeep, and we began to creak and rust. Had Master Heditt and his friends not found us, we’d have rotted away to dust. We humbly request your assistance with this necessary maintenance, and in return, we offer our undying gratitude and service.”
“We’ll get you and yours back in top shape in no time at all, Kathracite. Our engineers may even be able to upgrade your armor and performance, if you’d like.” Rakham said, standing and extending his hand across the table.
“Thank you, sir. It is our honor to serve.” The Iron Knight replied, grasping Rakham’s hand in his own metal one and shaking it.
“The honor is ours, my friend.”

...

CHAPTER 25: Alliance, Part II

Rakham and Dala were in their chambers, lying beside one another quietly, each simply appreciating the other’s presence. Dala was strong, that much Rakham knew, but he didn’t know how badly the Revenant had hurt her soul, and he didn’t know how long it would take those internal scars to heal. He was fairly certain that she’d fallen asleep in his arms, and he couldn’t help it when a smile began to crawl across his face. It felt like everything was finally beginning to get better, and a huge part of that was thanks to the brother he’d seen so little of in recent years. He made a mental note to take a few weeks after this was over, maybe even a month, and spend that time with Heditt. Perhaps they would go to Oros, or Nar Shadaa, or maybe just take the Fugitive in whichever direction the winds blew and find what awaited them. The thought was nice, but interrupted by the soft chiming of his holoprojector. He tried to carefully extricate his arms without waking Dala, but she made a small sound and grabbed at his hand as he stood. He squeezed her hand back, and went to answer the call at his desk, throwing a cloak over his bare shoulders. To his surprise, it was Heditt who appeared.
“Brother! Did you open your present?” He said jovially.
“You mean the ship full of Iron Knights that the Mandalorians wanted to blow out of the sky?” Rakham replied with a grin, to which Heditt nodded. “I sure did. How did you find them?”
“It’s just a matter of who you know, sometimes. Did you meet Nemo? He’s a good man, with a solid head on his shoulders.”
“Yeah, him and old Master Dena too. I barely recognized him at first, it’s been so long.” Rakham pulled a pipe and a leather pouch of tabacc from a drawer in his desk as he spoke, and filled it carefully. He put the stem in his mouth and snapped his fingers over the bowl, causing a cascade of sparks that fell neatly into the dark brown leaf, lighting it perfectly.
“Hey, that’s a neat trick. Where’d you pick that up?” Heditt said.
“Believe it or not, a Hapan girl we found with the Nyria Exiles. You should see the things she can do with fire, it’s-" Rakham stopped abruptly, his eyes going wide and the pipe falling from his hands, shattering on the stone floor.
“Rak? Rakham! What’s wrong?” Heditt said, leaning towards his holoprojector. “Are you okay? Rakham!”
“Rakham?” Dala sprang to her feet and rushed to his side.
“It’s Berra and D’Aylanna.” He said quietly, his eyes downcast. “Something’s gone wrong.” Before anyone else could speak, there was a knock at the door. Both of the Templar masters masters looked up at it with a sour feeling forming. Rakham pressed a button under the desk to open the door.
“Sir!” An out of breath Mandalorian commando gasped from the door. “We have ships entering the system, confirmed Revenant signatures!”
“Oh, hell.” Rakham said, the sour feeling turning to full on despair.
“That isn’t me.” Heditt said grimly. “Might be a good time to call on those Iron Knights.”
“They aren’t in good enough condition to fight.” Dala said calmly, kneeling down to reach a chest that held her combat armor.
“We’ll have to deal the Archive and get all possible hands working on them. I bet most of the Mandalorian engineers are capable of performing droid maintenance, and Kadmaur’s collection of lightsabers is big enough to outfit any of them who need weaponry. Heditt, stay safe out there. You know what to do when you complete your objective.” Rakham said, shaking off the feeling of dread and reaching for a tunic to slip on before his weapon belt.
“I do. Watch your back, Rakham. I want to see all of you in one piece when this is over.” Heditt replied, and cut the transmission. Rakham pulled an off white tunic over his head, then buckled his belt around his waist and donned his brown cloak. He looked, for all the world, like a Jedi Knight.

…

Edda Veek ran her hand along the stone wall of the entrance tunnel, gently coaxing the mountain out of it’s peaceful slumber. She was walking inwards, towards the great hall, slowly. As she reached the door and stepped inside, she took a deep breath, gathering her will and concentration. Exhaling, she clapped her hands together, and falling to her knees pressed her palms to the floor. There was a low rumbling sound, and the floor began to vibrate subtly, until, all at once, the floor of the tunnel began slowly rising to meet the ceiling, picking up speed until the two surfaces met and fused together. Edda stood and dusted off her knees, not noticed the attention she’d drawn until she reached up to wipe away the beads of sweat that had formed at her brow. She grinned as she saw the mercenaries, most of whom had completely dropped what they were doing to stare openly.
“Come on, people, let’s get this done!” She called out, striding over to help set up a barricade. “Don’t you know we’re being attacked?”

…

The plan was simple. They had to keep the Archive shut until the maintenance could be completed on the Iron Knights. The Narudar would attempt to slow down the incoming Revenant before they broke orbit, but was prepared to skitter away at light speed if the enemy was too strong. From there, Edda was tasked with holding the entrance shut for as long as possible, while if she lost it, the Mandalorians and most of the present Templars would hold the front line at the great hall. If the great hall was lost, they would fall back to secondary defenses in the meeting chamber. If that line was lost before the Iron Knights were prepared for battle, all would be lost. So, everyone in the Archive with any engineering experience was forming an assembly line, with buffing wheels, oil cans, spare nuts and bolts and a handful of lightsabers from the Armory.

The engineers on duty included Rakham, calling back on his droid building days, Captain Nemo, whose experience keeping his rustbucket ship in the sky proved useful, Faradi, a skilled tinkerer and inventor in his own right and four Mandalorian combat engineers. Of the fifty Iron Knights, every one of them required maintenance in some form. It was mostly a matter of oiling joints, polishing photoreceptors and tightening bolts, but some of them were damaged more deeply, needing soldering, new hydraulic lines or replacement servos. Soon, the repair team fell into a healthy rhythm, and organized their efforts. Nemo and the Mandalorians took on the less damaged Knights, while Faradi and Rakham tackled the ones with more serious damage.
“What is malfunctioning, friend?” Rakham heard Faradi ask as a new Iron Knight stepped up to him.
“My left arm won’t move, and my weapon doesn’t work.” The metallic voice replied.
“Check the connections in sector R3, Faradi.” Rakham chimed in. “Had a similar one a few minutes ago.” He replaced the armored bicep plate on his own “patient" and screwed it down tight. “How does that feel?”
“Perfect, sir! Thank you!” The Iron Knight replied, moving each of his joints in turn, checking their smoothness. Rakham reached into a box beside his tools and drew out a lightsaber, handing it to the Iron Knight.
“No, thank you.” Rakham responded.
“Sir!” A Mandalorian shouted from the door to the workshop. “The Revenant ships have gotten past the Narudar!”
“Is the ship okay?” Rakham shouted back, as the next Iron Knight stepped up for maintenance.
“No reported casualties, but weapon systems were damaged! The Revenant will be here soon sir, I have to get back to the line!” The mercenary replied, and was gone. Rakham looked up at his next patient with a falsely carefree grin.
“What can I do for you?”

…

“How is this even possible?” Edda groaned through gritted teeth. She had both hands pressed against her stone barrier, locked in a battle of will with someone on the other side who was trying to open it.
“The Revenant have known about this place for longer than we have, it seems.” Stikes said, pressing his hands to the wall and adding his power to Edda’s.
“Anytime now, Mr. Treller!” Edda called out over her shoulder.
“Affirmative! Fire in the hole!” The cyborg shouted, and pressed a key on his detonator. There was a series of low rumbling booms as mines hidden on the landing pad were detonated, and the pressure on the other side of the wall subsided momentarily before coming back, stronger than ever.
“It didn’t work! We can’t hold out much longer!” Edda screamed, and the wall began to slowly inch downwards.
“Lock and load, boys and girls! We’ve already got three squads of Iron Knights backing us up, and the rest will be along shortly. This one’s for Marz!” Commander Tarr barked, and the Mandalorians dug in. Twenty-something lightsabers were activated all at once, and shatterguns were charged.
“Stikes.” Edda said, her voice a strained whisper. “Back up.”
“What? But-"
“They’re coming. Back up.”
“Alright.” He said, and stepped back away from Edda to shout at the defenders. “Here they come!”

Edda drew on everything she had, and suddenly the wall began to creep back upwards slowly, until she removed her scarred hands from it altogether. It dropped with alarming swiftness, and she thought she heard someone scream for her to move out of harm’s way. That brought a smile to her lips.

Edda Veek was harm’s way.

She raised her right hand, and snapped her fingers. She caught only a glimpse of the charging Revenant battle droids and their tattooed masters at the end of the hallway before the vortex of white-hot flames screamed into life before her and boiled down the tunnel, blackening and cracking stone, fusing and twisting metal and annihilating flesh. She didn’t stop, snapping her fingers again, and again, and again. She raised her hand to unleash a fifth blast, but before her fingers could snap, something hit her, and she stumbled backwards. The hilt of a vibro-blade was protruding from her abdomen. She fell to her knees with a gasp, her hands wrapping around the blade. The rattle of shatterguns filled the air, and she heard someone shout at her.
“Don’t pull it out!”
Suddenly, strong, armored hands wrapped around her arms, and drug her away from the opening. The last thing she was aware of was the steepled stone ceiling of the great hall before everything faded to black.

...

“That’s half.” Nemo said, as the fifth squad of Iron Knights headed out the door.
“We have to go help the defenders.” Rakham said to Faradi, then turned to the Mandalorian engineers. “You three, stay here and get as many of these Knights running as you can. Nemo, you go where you feel you’ll be the most useful, either stay here or follow us.”
“I’m with you, boss.” Nemo replied, drawing a long elegant, elegant lightsaber hilt from under his coat. “Let’s get this settled.”

…

All hell was breaking loose. The Revenant droids had swarmed in and engaged the defenders from close range, where their self repair ability was at it’s most dangerous and the shatterguns were at their least. The Mandalorian flamethrowers were not hot enough to fuse metal and destroy every trace of circuitry like Edda’s blasts had been, and they posed more of a danger to their allies than their enemies, leaving the Mandalorians to use their knives and armored fists, just the way they liked it. The Iron Knights proved their usefulness quickly, using the Force and their superior strength to batter the droids, slicing them to pieces with their sabers. Even now, with only a few squads on deck, it appeared that they could turn the tide.
Nadia stood back to back with the Morn brothers, all three of them using lightsabers in one hand and casting Force lightning with the other. They’d found that the lightning could overload the droids and stop them from repairing themselves. Sahka and Tasrii were, as always, well in control of their corner of the battlefield, and both of them were eager to pay the Revenant back for their imprisonment. As the fifth squad of Iron Knights arrived, with Rakham, Faradi and Nero shortly behind, things were looking fairly positive. Then the Force suppression hit.

The Revenant marched down the entrance tunnel like a conquering army, dressed in black with red blades burning.
“Commander Tarr, get the wounded out of here and establish the secondary line of defense! Hold the next wave of Iron Knights there until I give you the signal!” Rakham ordered into his commlink, and drew both of his sabers, the blue and green blades sizzling to life.
“What have you gotten me into, Heditt?” Nemo muttered, as his purple blade came to life with a hiss. Rakham looked from him to Faradi, who had donned his war mask once again and activated his long, poison green saber.
“Bet you a bottle I get more than you.” Rakham said with a lopsided grin.
“I’ll take that bet, Master.”

…

The last of the Revenant droids had been dealt with by the time their masters reached the room, and the thirty-six defenders stood resolutely, with Rakham at their front. A Revenant Wraith stood before the attackers, his face covered in red tattoos.
“I am willing to accept your unconditional surrender.” Rakham said sarcastically,
“Funny, I was going to say the same thing.” The Wraith replied darkly, and looked as though he had something more to say, but a look of confusion passed over his face, and he looked over his shoulder. At the same time, Rakham’s commlink buzzed.
“Uh, sir, this is the command center, and we just got a really strange message. I think you should hear this.”
“Command, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“I’m playing it, sir.”
“This is the Revenant warship Crucifix. My name is Anzio Ket, and my men and I wish to pledge loyalty to the holders of the Mask of Revan. I have obscured the news of your reinforcement earlier today from reaching our leaders, and with our forces combined we can easily destroy the force laying siege to your-"
A series of deafening booms obscured the final bit of the transmission as rockets lanced down towards the landing pad, destroying the Revenant ships there. Not even a second later, another Revenant ship landed, and twenty or thirty people leapt out of it, lightsabers in hand. The Wraith in front of Rakham screamed in rage as they charged, and Rakham merely shrugged, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Shall we?” Faradi’s hollow, evil sounding voice came from within the mask.
“Yeah, why not?”

…

The battle did not last for very long. Anzio Ket’s force slaughtered their way through the Revenant foot soldiers from the rear as the Iron Knights cut them off from fleeing into the Archive. The Wraith was decapitated by Anzio himself, who then thrust his saber into the man’s chest, cutting out his heart.
“That’s the trick, see. You have to get the brain and the heart at the same time.” He elaborated to the Templars and Iron Knights gathered around. “Now, please, lay down your weapons.” He said, causing the Iron Knights to raise their lightsabers into defensive postures. “No, no!” He deactivated his lightsaber and placed it down gently. The hilt was polished gold, expertly carved into the shape of a dragon, and he seemed hesitant to place it on the rough stone floor. “Will my followers please lay down their weapons.” he elaborated, though they were already complying. Rakham pushed his way through the crowd, lightheartedly arguing with Faradi about whether or not kills counted if the victim came back to life, but before he could speak, Dala’s voice rang out.
“Rakham! Rakham! It’s Edda! I need your help!”
His eyes went wide, and he placed a hand on Faradi’s shoulder and pointed to the patiently waiting Anzio. “Handle this until I get back.”

…

Edda was lying on a table, her scarred midriff exposed and bloody. There was a bandage over the wound, but she wasn’t breathing. Dala was moving her right hand around an inch above her body, trying to use Force healing to coax the young woman into holding on to life as Rakham sprinted into the room. He knew what to do immediately, taking a place across the table from Dala and grabbing her left hand. Almost instantly, the power between them began to flow back and forth like electricity, and an intense white glow began to emanate from Dala’s hand. With a rasping wheeze, Edda began to breathe again. After a moment, her eyes flew open.
“Where am I?”
“You’re safe.” Dala said with a warm smile.

CHAPTER END

This chapter was sponsored by Writer's Tears Irish Whiskey and anime references.

CHAPTER 26: Steel Guard

“Tasrii, you and Faradi are in charge! Rawbacca, get to the Fugitive, plot a course for Taris and get our friends on the holofeed! Kathracite, send a squad of your men with him, and Commander Tarr, you send two squads. Nadia, you’re with us! Edda, you too! Get changed out of those bloody clothes and meet us on the ship!” Rakham barked orders to his comrades. The timing was deeply unfortunate, but he knew, he could feel it in his bones, that if they didn’t make it to Taris very, very soon, something bad was going to happen. He strode purposefully through the great hall, stepping over debris and bodies, almost nonchalantly reaching out a hand and calling a dropped shattergun across the room to his grasp. He racked the rifle’s bolt and marched towards where Faradi stared down Anzio Ket.
“You.” His voice was even, calm and almost friendly as he addressed the turncoat Wraith. “Please, don’t take this to mean that I’m unneighborly, or unappreciative, but I have to leave now, and I want you to understand that if you try anything, and I do mean anything, you will be introduced to a world of suffering that you cannot possibly comprehend. You will not be allowed reprieve. You will not be allowed death. The price of crossing my people is far, far higher than you know. If you wish to gain access to the contents of this Archive, your only course of action is to answer this man’s questions, comply with his orders and wait patiently for our return.”
“I believe you.” Anzio replied. “We’ll be sure to wait quietly.”
“Good. Faradi, stay sharp. We’ll be back as soon as possible.” Rakham said, and with that, made his way out of the charred entrance hall, to where Rawbacca was prepping the Fugitive. Faradi opened his mouth to speak, but pursed his lips and waited patiently as a dozen Mandalorians trotted out of the door, followed by the squad of Iron Knights deemed by Kathracite to be in the best condition, and finally, Edda Veek, running full tilt to catch up, a black cloak fluttering behind her. It was only a second before the roar of the ships engine’s filled the air, and the old freighter rocketed off towards the horizon. Faradi cleared his throat, and removed his silver mask, letting it clatter to the floor. His hard yellow eyes burned into those of the Wraith, his face as hard as stone. Anzio was no taller than Faradi, and his frame was broader than the Twi’leks lanky build, but somehow he still seemed to tower over the Wraith, the darkness of his presence building into a hurricane as the hatred he normally controlled so thoroughly built.
“I’ll make you a deal.” He intoned coldly, summoning the Wraith’s golden lightsaber from the floor to his hand, and holding it out for the other man to take. “Make your move right here, right now, and I’ll defy my Master, and grant you a merciful death.”

The room became very quiet for moment. The remaining Revenant traitors behind Anzio shifted uneasily, knowing that they were outgunned by the Templars and their Iron Knight comrades. Sahka Tekk licked her lips with a hiss, breaking the silence.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, friend, but I don’t have any move to make. What I’ve said was true; we really do come in peace.” Anzio said. None of the Force-sensitives detected any dishonesty in his words, but that wasn’t a guarantee that it wasn’t there.
“Good.” Faradi said, flashing a gold-toothed smile, his darkness diminishing as quickly as it had appeared. “You’ll understand, of course, that there are security precautions we must take. You’ll be given comfortable quarters, but placed under guard for next day or two until we decide whether or not to trust you.”
“Completely understandable. We’ll consider ourselves not prisoners, but protected guests.” Anzio said, returning the smile.
“Sahka, would you be dear and take a contingent of these Iron Knights to settle our ‘guests’ in to Block 4?” He said, referring to an unused section of living quarters, that conveniently were very far from the Vault and Armory.
“Of coursse.” Sahka replied, licking her lips again and eying the Revenant like a starving man might look at a bowl of stew.
“My thanks.” He said, before raising his voice. “Tasrii, Commander Tarr and Kathracite, could I speak with the three of you?”

He took a moment to straighten his black robes as the Revenant were marched away and the leaders he’d called for gathered. Soon, it was only the four of them standing on soot blackened stone amongst the dead. It was strangely quiet.
“How did Edda do this?” Tasrii said, kneeling by a melted Revenant droid and poking at it.
“Very carefully, I presume. I’ve not managed to master the art of pyrokinesis, but in principle, it’s a matter of creating friction in air molecules to generate heat, then manipulating the burning oxygen. I’ve never seen or heard of pyrokinesis on this scale, but it’s fair to assume that Edda may have a more intimate understanding of flame than the average person.”
“Poor girl.” Tarr muttered. He didn’t know the grim details of the starship crash that had left Edda orphaned and scarred as a young girl, but he understood the gist of it.
“Indeed.” Faradi said, and cleared his throat. “Down to business, however, give me your casualty reports.”
“I lost three men. Two more look like they might not pull through, and half a dozen sustained injuries that will keep them off of their feet for a few days.” Tarr said.
“How many do you have in fighting condition here at the Archive?” Faradi asked.
“Nineteen.”
“Kathracite, did you lose anyone?”
“No deaths, sir. We have had several of the rushed repairs fail, however, and several more sustain damage in the fighting. All in all, eleven of us require critical maintenance.”
“Alright, Tasrii, what about us?”
“Callo Morn took a nasty gash on his leg that he’s having looked at, but you know how those two are. Tough as bolts. Stikes, Hul, Sahka and Stringer Morn are all fine apart from scrapes and bruises.”
“Excellent. Tarr, I would like for you to pull your other combat engineers to help the Iron Knights. Now that we don’t have to rush, we can start giving them the full retrofits they need. Kathracite, I’d like for you to prioritize the order in which we upgrade your squads and start sending them to the workshop. Rotate them out, we have to keep a constant and overwhelming guard on the prisoners. Commander Tarr, if you will, have your men clean up this mess and make sure your defensive emplacements are in order, then all of you take the rest of the day and tomorrow off to recuperate. Tasrii, gather up the Templars and assign a guard rotation to the Revenant to assist the Iron Knights. I’ll be in the workshop, helping with the maintenance. Feel free to come and find me if I’m needed elsewhere.” Faradi said, before stooping to retrieve his mask from the floor as the others began scurrying off to do his bidding. He used the cuff of his sleeve to brush a splatter of blood off of the mask with a grin, and took off towards his workshop.

…

Six hours later, the Templars’ limited reserve of parts was getting dangerously low. There were six Mandalorians, Nemo, the cyborg Treller and Faradi himself working in the crowded workshop, the acrid smell of soldering smoke mixed with that of sweat, oil and fresh paint in the air.
“We’re almost out of spare servos!” One of the Mandalorians piped up.
“Same goes for hydraulic fluid!” Nemo shouted from the far end of the workshop.
“Alright. Everyone, finish helping the knights in front of you and stop work. I have to speak with Kathracite.” Faradi called out in response, and rose to his feet, dusting himself off and wandering out into the hallway towards Block 4, where Kathracite would be overseeing the confinement of their prisoners.

…

It wasn't the workshop that Faradi brought Kathracite back to, but rather his laboratory. He spoke as they walked.
“There’s a project that Master Crescentfall and I have been working on for a very long time. They were meant to be a new breed of battle droid, based on a prototype he built long ago, that are capable of defeating… well, anything, but specifically hostile Force Lords.” He paused as they entered the laboratory, flipping a switch on a breaker panel near the door. A light flickered on in a dark corner of the room, revealing five upright figures under white sheets. Faradi made his way towards them, carefully dodging the various workbenches scattered about the room, and one by one pulled the sheets away, revealing the droids under them.
“The frames are made from beskar alloyed with Songsteel. We had to murder, steal and beg to find a metallurgist capable of creating the alloy, and convincing him to actually do it cost three years of my research funding. From there, the electronics are run through triple-EMP shielded tubing, powering silent running servos capable of generating enough to torque to tear open a starship’s hull. That was another year of my funding. Over the framework are two inch thick plates of beskar, laminated with double layer of cortosis weave. Nearly indestructible. As you can see, the feet and hands are equipped with protrusions to assist in unarmed combat, and each forearm has a built-in electromagnetic shattercannon, which fires under the hand, across the palm. In addition, two focused-beam weapons are placed by the photoreceptors under the armored mask. However, the crowning achievement of the weapons outfit is the lightsaber. Rather than a conventional saber, it uses an array of three deliberately stressed synthetic crystals. This makes the blade significantly more powerful than the average lightsaber, but also far too dangerous for an organic to use. The average user would not have the strength to control the gyroscopic force, and the heat generated would melt the skin from their hands.” Faradi gushed proudly.
“Why aren’t they being used?” Kathracite asked, moving closer to inspect the larger body.
“Because we haven’t been able to find or design a good enough droid brain. Everything we’ve tried is too slow to keep up, and Master Crescentfall own programs often have trouble inhibiting agression.”
“I think I can see where you’re going with this.” Kathracite said.
“There’s a catch. I understand that your agreement with Heditt Crescentfall was temporary. After you’ve helped us, you’re going to search for your comrades. I am willing and eager to install five volunteers into these droids, but they will have to become Templars. These are too dangerous, and have cost us too much, to let out from under our supervision.”
“I understand.” Kathracite said. “It’s good of you to be responsible with such power. I imagine I won’t have trouble finding five volunteers.”

…

Each droid was two meters tall, with slabs of Mandalorian iron covering them like ancient plated armor, darkened to a deep metallic grey. Their heads were were smooth, with rounded masks making up their faces, broken only by a horizontal slit through which round photoreceptors shined. Their shoulders were covered by thick pauldrons, and the right pauldron of each droid was anodized in a different color, corresponding to the lightsaber they carried. Red, blue, green, purple and yellow.
In front of the droids, Faradi and Tasrii stood. In front of them, there were five of the Iron Knights who had volunteered to join the Templar Order.
“Khyber, Bondar, Corusca, Damind and Dragite.” Faradi addressed them. “You’ve volunteered to join the Templar Order permanently. It’s important that you understand what that means. As a Templar, you will be permitted access to the full amount of knowledge collected by our Order, and to the artifacts we have amassed, and installed into the superior droid bodies behind me. In return, you may occasionally be given missions to investigate or recover artifacts, knowledge, or persons of interest, but your most important responsibility is the defense of the Archive and it’s contents. If these terms are not acceptable to you, there will be no consequences, but I ask that you speak up now if you protest.” When none did, he turned to Tasrii. “Knight Kepressa, if you will?”
Tasrii stepped forward, with her hands clasped behind her back.
“Khyber, do you swear to protect the Archive and the Order with your life? Do you swear to serve the Force, and to respect the decisions of the Masters?” She asked.
“I swear.” Khyber replied, and Tasrii moved on to the next.
“Bondar, do you swear to…”

…

An hour later, Faradi was neck deep in work preparing the droid bodies to accept their new hosts, and Tasrii was headed towards Block 4 with Sahka. Soon, they reached the row of doors, each of them flanked by two guards. Tasrii noted that there were several Mandalorians scattered among the Iron Knights, and stopped to question one.
“I thought Faradi gave you all the day off?”
“We volunteered to continue our work, ma’am. No rest for the wicked, things being as they are.” The guard replied cheerily.
“Thank you.” Tasrii replied sincerely, clasping the man’s armored shoulder. “We want to interview one of the prisoners, do you know where the leader is?”
“Two doors down, ma’am.”
“In that case, this one will do.”
The guard nodded and opened the door. Inside, the furnishings were sparse. It appeared that the whole room and it’s furniture had been carved from stone; there was a bed, a table and a long seat, but otherwise, the room was bare save for it’s occupant. The Revenant there was a fairly average looking man, with brown hair, pale skin and dark eyes. Around his right eye a series of interwoven red rings was tattooed. He was sitting on the bed, but sprang to his feet when the door opened. He was silent as the Templars entered and closed the door behind them. Sahka stayed by the door, and Tasrii walked over to face the man.
“My name is Tasrii Kepressa.” She said.
“I know.” He said, then gulped nervously. “I mean, my name is Rahl.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Rahl. Please, have a seat. I have a few questions for you.” Tasrii said, gesturing to the table. She sat down across from him, resting her armored forearms on the table. “I imagine you can guess the most pressing question on my mind.”
“I don’t like to assume, ma’am.” He gulped again, as beads of sweat began to appear on his brow.
“Well, I don’t mind it so much, so I’m going to operate on the assumption that your master is telling us the truth. Tell me, why have you decided to turn on your people and side with us?” Tasrii’s ice blue eyes bore into him like laser beams.
“Because you’re going to win the war.” He said. Tasrii could not sense any dishonesty, nor did she sense that the man was significantly powerful. He was a footsoldier. She arched her eyebrows and waited for him to continue, and he obliged, beginning to babble almost uncontrollably.
“You have to believe me! The masters, they’re arrogant. They think that you’re fools because you’ve fallen for their traps, but every time, you hit us back harder than we hit you. They haven’t been on the receiving end like we have yet, I’ve been killed twice by you people, my mate Artheld three times. Anzio was killed once. We’re running out of droids and we’re running out of men. You have the mask, and all the other artifacts from the Traitor’s stash, and we don’t want to die anymore. The Masters think that they have the upper hand because you always fall for their traps, but when you manage to seize the upper hand each and every time, who’s really being had?” He said anxiously, as Tasrii considered his words.
“Tell me, which traps have we fallen into?”
“First, the listening post. It was a test of your reconnaissance abilities. Then the two attacks on the Archive. The first was to test your defenses, see just how stout they were, the second was to plant a spy here. You were always supposed to capture one or more of that strike team. The masters have a telepathic link to them, especially Innia, the Wraith you captured. They see what she sees. That was where things started to go wrong. They didn’t count on your man Faradi, or his methods. Instead of a weapon on the inside, they were left with nothing more than a camera that spends most of it’s time in a dark box. Still, they’ve been able to glean some information when you discuss your strategies in front of her. Then there was the trap on the planet ILNM-293. At first things looked promising, we were able to capture prisoners and kill some of you, but the masters hadn’t counted on the amount of droid casualties sustained, or on the broken Innia giving up the locations of our outposts. The casualties inflicted both on our droids and our men when Crescentfall overran them were unsustainable. There was meant to be one final, fell swoop after you learned of the base on Taris, with one group attacking here and another setting a trap on Taris. They didn’t know that you would be reinforced here, and when Master Anzio found out, he developed his plan. He killed those who were in charge of observation before they could report to the other masters and gathered those of us he could trust. We decided that out chances of survival are a whole lot better here with you than with them.”
“Wait. What’s going to happen on Taris?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the truth.” He insisted.
“Alright. One more question. Why are you so nervous if you’re telling me the truth?” Tasrii’s stare had not softened even an iota. Rahl glanced uncomfortably at Sahka, then back to Tasrii.
“You two killed me.”
“Fair enough, then. Thank you for your time.” Tasrii said, standing up and walking towards the door.
“Wait, Master Kepressa! What’s going to happen to us?”

Tasrii stopped dead in her tracks, but it was Sahka who spoke, for the first time.
“That depends on what happens at Tariss.”

CHAPTER END

Chapter 27: Traps, Part I

Skulking along the pyramid’s narrow tunnels in its top level, Teks was able to clandestinely penetrate further into the structure without so much as being seen. And although she could feel the effects of the Force Suppression that surrounded the pyramid, she seemed to be less affected by it than her companions. Normally that might have been strange but… Once again, her memory failed her. She could feel it as if on the tip of her tongue, a memory that tickled but elicited nothing exact.

Such was her existence now and since she’d washed up at Nadia’s cantina in Nar Shadda. Teks could remember absolutely nothing prior to her time with the Templars, even the sporadic moments of deja vú only served to confound her more.

Much like the numerous tattoos covering her body.

She’d sought answers hoping that someone—anyone—could help her find answers. Her multiple tattoos were indecipherable and none alike. And even though Master Rakham could not decrypt them, he’d at least given her a home…

And Faradi…he seemed to trust her. Certainly enough to carry this mask from Master Rakham’s Vault. And while she had not put it on, she had kept it this entire time on her person. She was still unsure as to what Faradi had wanted…or expected. Nothing had seemed to happen. And perhaps nothing would…

She edged around a bend in the tunnel, wary of the low droning that seemed to grow louder the further in she went. Leading with her blaster rifle, Teks continued down the corridor, the walls backlit with a red light coming from the ceiling. With the Force in her, she could feel signs of life before she saw them…or in this case, heard them.

Like a crashing wave, the angry, savage sounds of what she knew to be rakghouls pounded through her, each bass cadence reverberating through the walls as well as her chest. …down… She thought, able to determine the vector. And about halfway down the tunnel, there was a ragged hole in the floor and wall, a horrible reeking smell accompanying the grinding, inhuman shouting. Dousing the electric lamp attached to her rifle while she pressed the bag containing the mask deeper into her web-belt, she peered downward through the hole, careful not to expose too much of herself.

Even with the limited red lighting, she could see that the room was packed full of rakghouls, waves of the creatures roiling through the room, some of them biting and even eating the weaker ones. There was no door that she could see…

Then with a deafening suddenness, Teks jumped at the sound of a colossal grinding of stone against stone. It was then that she saw the creatures begin to…the best description was “drain” from the room through a widening hole in the floor. …pressure trap… She knew all about the devious snares. Clearly someone had triggered it from below…

Shaking her head, she thought about the mission at hand, her Master having explicitly and emphatically entrusting her with the true objective: retrieve the information in the datanode. With a little luck, it would contain the intel that her Master required. Without a backwards glance, she left the hole behind, making several turns as the tunnels finally led her into a small, sequestered room.

She remained motionless at the doorway, body and senses alert, her rifle held at the ready. She could feel…nothing, nothing at all. And while she was certain what that entailed, she was nevertheless grateful. She was about to enter the room when she felt it: a…sensation in the back of her neck. She would sometimes get these flashes, not exactly premonitions but a…glimpse of possibilities.

Without moving a muscle, she scrutinized the room within, the lone, unobstructed dataterminal incongruous with the ancient stone setting of the pyramid. Slowly scanning the darkness of the room, her eyes saw a slight inconsistency in the room. Almost straight ahead, the lightless blackness within the room seemed to be just a shade off. She doubted that most people would have noticed it.

But she had.

Bending at the knees, she kept looking intently, analyzing the stimuli as she compiled all that she saw within the seconds it took her to slowly kneel. …there… Now that she knew what to look for, Teks could make out other details. The “discrepancy” was at about chest level and, unless seen at an extreme angle, effectively invisible. She searched for other tell-tale signs in front of her. There was nothing.

She moved in the room at a crouch, shifting the webbed bag with the mask so as to be more comfortable. Simultaneously, she thoroughly scanned where she intended to go. It was a short distance to the dataterminal. Reaching into her tactical utilities, she withdrew a crystal datanode, a Galactic universal port jutting out of the edge. Checking that it would fit, she inserted the crystal, allowing the device to do its work: accessing and downloading all of the dataterminal’s information. She took the opportunity to look behind her towards the doorway.

From this perspective of within the room, now she could identify what she’d spied in the doorway: it was a line of nylasteel vibrowire strung between the walls. Anyone not perceptive enough would lose their head...literally.

When the crystal began to blink, she knew that the download was complete. Withdrawing the datanode, she placed it in a secure pouch within her vest. …time to go… She would be glad to get the hell out of here.

That’s when she felt it: a massive disturbance in the Force. Unaccustomed to the…alien feeling, she only knew that she must hurry. And, once again by instinct, she sped down tunnels, leading both further in and downwards, the mask in the webbed bag smacking on her leg as she ran. She didn’t even need to consult the schematic readouts that Faradi had given each member of the team; she knew where to go. Part of her thought that should concern her.

But right now, she didn’t care.

The suddenness with which the tunnel opened into the large central antechamber surprised Teks, her green eyes blinking at the increased luminosity of the light. Within the room was a central alter, a simple stone stile with an orb contained in its base, several stone bridges leading to staggered levels, a stairway in the corner nearest her, and finally a doorway on the opposite wall.

Berra was kneeling over someone by the stile, amidst the grisly remains of a body that had been bisected from groin to neck, its head cut cleanly from its body. As Teks got closer, she finally saw what—or rather who—Berra was crouching over.

It was D’Aylanna.

Teks immediately saw that the diminutive woman had a vicious cut across her neck, blood completely drenching the front of her black utilities. Her glazed eyes stared unseeingly off in the distance and she was not breathing. Berra was attempting to Heal her but to no effect.

“Teks…” The Miraluka said quietly. “…I can’t…I tried…D’Aylanna…” If Teks didn’t know better, she thought that Berra could be crying. Perhaps there was more here than she knew…

As if reading her mind, Berra spoke, her voice breaking. “Jorsk…he’s d—he, he died saving me.” She shook her head. “First, Irris…then Jorsk… I…I can’t lose anyone else.”

Teks looked down at Berra as she cradled D’Aylanna. And without warning she dropped to her knees, knocking Berra to the side. As had happened before, Teks…acted. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that she did but she only knew that she could do something.

Grasping D’Aylanna by her head, Teks focused intently on the other woman’s pale face. As she concentrated, a verdant almost pleasant glow surrounded her. She only knew that this was what was required, not “how” it was being done. Slowly, the radiance crept up Teks’ arms, engulfing D’Aylanna, the energy shining more brightly. Then it shrank into the Hapan woman, not quite disappearing when the light touched her skin. Exhausted, Teks gulped in deep breaths of air, her shaking arms barely holding her up.

Berra had turned to her, a look of abject shock upon her face. “…Teks…what…what did you do?!” The Miralukan placed her hands upon the blond woman, directing Healing flows of the Force into her.

Nodding gratefully, the ashen coloring of Teks' face began to disappear although she still looked pale with dark circles underneath her eyes. “force…drain…” She began, almost at a whisper. “…reversed…” For such quiet words, the response that they elicited were deafening.

“‘Reversed Force Drain?!’ Teks…that could have killed you! I don’t even think that Master Rakham would have done that, the consequences being what they are…” Slowly, Berra’s voice trailed off as she focused upon D’Aylanna, thinking that she must have been mistaken with what she’d sensed.

And then D’Aylanna breathed, a ragged, wheezing breath but where before she hadn’t at all… And that was not everything: the Hapan woman’s throat had closed, her pale skin recovered some of its olive complexion although her blue lips still looked white.

But D’Aylanna’s eyes remained closed, and not with the healing quality of sleep. No, her unconscious state was indicative of a coma and a deep one at that.

Slowly, Teks rose to her feet, still unsteady, but her face looked satisfied. Yet, a small, almost insignificant thought pestered at her. …why would I do that…who is D’Aylanna to me…?

But even before Teks could follow that line of thought, Berra placed a hand upon her forearm. “Teks…how…why would you do that?” Again, Teks’ mind examined her own reasoning, giving rise to a slowly growing uncertainty that she couldn’t put finger to…

“…need…her…” Teks heard herself say. “…defeat…Revenant…powerful ally…” It made sense to her, tactically they were stronger with D’Aylanna than without her. But even though she’d said the words, part of Teks knew that she it was more a justification than a motive. Unconsciously, her hand slowly stroked the bag holding the mask…

<<<<< >>>>>

Berra was still amazed. Not just that D’Aylanna was breathing again—thank Ashla!—but also with Teks… Berra had known the pale woman since she’d joined the Templars, and she’d spoken more in the last few minutes than the previous years. To say nothing of the fact that Teks knew such a technique, much less had used it in such a fashion.

Put simply, it was unlike anything that Berra had seen Teks do or expected.

But now was not the time; she could explore this enigma later. “Teks, were you successful?” The other Templar woman slowly nodded, still unsteady and looking worse for the wear.

Grabbing her comms, Berra pinged her Mandalorian escort. “Sergeant Alvai, do you copy?” Berra’s Force senses were a little better than before. Since killing the Revenant, the Force Suppression surrounding the pyramid had diminished but had not disappeared. That alone made Berra wary. There must be other Revenant about, probably rakghouls too.

“Good copy, mistress. Proceed.” Sergeant Alvai’s brisk tone came from the comm. Berra breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sergeant, I need for your fireteam to join me in the main antechamber. Mistress Vih’Torr needs immediate exfil and I need for someone to carry her; I have a feeling that I’ll be needing both my arms for saberwork…” Berra’s lightsaber was still in her hand. Squaring her shoulders she took several calming breathes.

“Here Teks, I have some skill with Healing.” The Miralukan said, approaching the shorter woman. Still unrecovered, Teks nodded gratefully. In the minutes that the women waited for Sergeant Alvai, Teks had regained much of her color although her eyes were dark and sunken. Still, when the tall Hit Squad sergeant approached, Berra breathed a bit easier.

“Thank you, Lhyli.” Berra’s grateful tone made the Mando sergeant grin somewhat sheepishly. Of course, all members of the Hit Squad Fireteams revered Berra. They believed that her Miralukan ancestry was a sign of Enlightenment, despite Berra not believing in the tenets of Akaanati'kar'oya.

Not to mention that she and Jorsk had been close.

Gently, Sergeant Alvai laid an armored hand on Berra’s shoulder. “Mistress…I’m sorry about Jorsk. He was a true Son of Mandalore.” Berra started at that.

“Lhyli…how?” Even partially hidden underneath her blindfold, Berra’s face shown full of surprise.

The tall Mandalorian sergeant held up the datanode embedded in her armored forearm, allowing Berra to feel it. “Mistress, in my vambrace is a display that shows every Hit Squad member’s name, bio-signs, and range.” Both women’s faces turned grim. “…Jorsk’s bio-signs have flatlined… That’s how I knew…” Berra said nothing, merely giving a small nod.

“Sergeant, let’s get out of here.” Berra’s voice was durasteel. Nodding, Sergeant Alvai kneeled, grabbing D’Aylanna and hoisting the small Hapan over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Steadying the diminutive woman with one hand, Sergeant Alvai grabbed her DL-44 blaster in the other. Teks had also collected her rifle while Berra readied herself in the Force. Igniting her teal saber, she ran from the antechamber into the far tunnel to hook up with the next fireteam.

No noticed the orb in the base of the stile glowing an eerie black aura.

<<<<< >>>>>

Chapter 27: Traps, Part II

They hooked up with the three fireteams in short order, backtracking through the tunnels all the while feeling a growing sense of menace. Even the light illuminating the walls seemed to be affected; the red had deepened several hues giving the illusion that the corridor was bleeding from both sides.

And all the while accompanied by a galling droning like gnashing teeth and the rabid screams of the insane. Only Berra had it worse: what the others could see, her Force-sense perceived something far, far more dreadful. By the time that the exit to the pyramid lay open in front of them, Berra had everyone at a brisk run.

Once out of the Revenant ziggurat, the noise increased dramatically. Even the unflappable members of Hit Squad had begun to look over their shoulder expecting deamons from the abyss to herald their writhing unending torment.

“Run!” Berra’s voice was no louder than before but to everyone it seemed as if she’d shouted from the bottom of her lungs. Even encumbered with carrying the comatose Hapan woman, Sergeant Alvai was able to keep pace, conditioning and rising panic empowering her.

No longer on any overwatch, Teks had accompanied the fireteams during their exfil. So it was that, looking over her shoulder, the pale Darkside Templar saw an overwhelming surge of rakghouls vomited forth from every cavity in the pyramid. Soon every square centimeter was obfuscated by rakghoul bodies, so dense was the horde.

And they were all giving chase to the fireteams.

Even at a run, Berra kept a level head. “Sergeant, how many thermal detonators do you have left?”

The tall woman scowled. “Two. Mistress.” She was huffing breath by now but never once did she waver nor slow down. …Not enough… Berra thought. And by what the Miraluka could read off of the auras of the others, they already knew it.

“Save them.” Berra’s tone spoke volumes, each and every one of them understood what she hadn’t said: for us.

Still, they ran.

The avenue was darker than it had been on their way in and as they passed the dilapidated buildings they noticed that the shadows moved. Identical grim looks of determination were affixed on all of their faces.

And still the noise increased.

Berra felt it before the rest were able to see, but they soon noticed that a cacophony of unintelligible droning mingled with mindless shrieking was coming from in front of them. With the clamor behind him, the combined doppler effect reinforced the auditory dissonance that grated within all of their ears.

“Mistress?” Sergeant Alvai’s voice had an undercurrent of panic, panic that they all felt.

Berra projected her senses outward, examining the distance from their point of egress and that of the incoming rakghoul. And she knew… Berra stopped running, Teks and the Hit Squad Fireteams stopping short, each one taking deep gulps of breath. One and all, they stared expectantly at the Miraluka.

“Sergeant…we need to hunker down. Where would you suggest we make a stand?” Berra’s quiet tone belied her urgency.

Looking around, the tall woman’s almond eyes scrutinized her surroundings. “Over there, that three-story structure. With a single entrance, the small doorway will act as a chokepoint. There’s roof access so we have at least one rallying point. Corporal Eishan, how are our comms?” The dark Mandalorian double checked even though he’d been doing so on a regular basis.

“No joy, Sarge. Not since exfilling from the pyramid. I can try to reestablish from the roof, hopefully get a line to Mistress Jorya Vih’Torr.” His piercing blue eyes showed what he thought of their chances but his hard face showed nothing of his fear.

Nodding, Sergeant Alvai started jogging towards the indicated building, D’Aylanna hanging limp across her shoulders. “Excellent, corporal. Make it so.”

As they entered the building, they noticed that there were several built-in counters lining a narrow room. Best of all, the room had an elevated section towards the back. When the rakghouls attacked, they would have to funnel through the doors and fight an uphill battle. A turbolift in the very rear of the room let to the roof. When Corporal Eishan sent the lift back, it stopped almost 20 centimeters short of the floor. “Dammit.” Sergeant Alvai swore under her breath. Berra looked inquiringly at her, the question evident on her face.

“What is it, Lhyli?” The Mando sergeant momentarily crossed her arms, the rest of Hit Squad taking up defensive positions. Teks had found a sniper’s nest but looked to Sergeant Alvai for her answer.

“Mistress…I’m not certain if this lift will be able to take us all to the roof. I suggest that you, Mistress Teks, and Private Gornt take Mistress D’Aylanna first. The rest of us will follow.” Alvai’s hard face showed no trepidation, her voice crystal clear. Berra understood, nodding.

“Thank you, Lhyli.” Berra took position by the top of the stairway. Her lightsaber would provide a solid defense but it was Hit Squad’s sharpshooting that everyone was relying upon.

…And there was always the two thermal detonators.

Everyone hoped that things wouldn’t come to that but deep down knew that there was little chance of escape. Even if Corporal Eishan was able to contact Jorya, there was little that a single Koawan could do to sway the outcome of such overwhelming odds.

Still, the Hit Squad Fireteams were consummate professionals: with everyone now set up, the entire gallery was pre-sighted. It would be like shooting porgs with a turbolaser.

Or so they all hoped. Regardless, they’d done all that they could. And none too soon, the two converging masses of rakghoul had combined into a single ocean of screaming madness, all of a single mind to attack the invaders. A Revenant contingency to safeguard their base should anything (or anyone) get past the Shade.

As one, the rakghoul horde crashed into the building, their numbers mitigated as the mindless creatures were forced to enter one at a time through the narrow doorway. Once again, the Mandos fire discipline was as deadly as it was effective, burning down dozens of rakghouls. Most were mowed down by Private Gornt’s LS-150 heavy repeater. Any of them swift enough to get past the first line of fire was met with a second courtesy of Teks’ sniperfire. And even then if a rakghoul made it past those defenses, Berra’s lightsaber was an impenetrable wall of plasma, cutting down everything that came within range.

…And there was always the two thermal detonators.

Multiple calls of “Changing!” echoed throughout the walls as spent powerpacks were discarded, a new pack quickly slapped into the receiver. Even with the growing heap of bodies within the gallery, the rakghoul continued to come. Soon, two members of Hit Squad had to switch to their sidearms, their blaster rifles dry.

And still they came.

Berra—who prided herself on her hyper-accurate innate spatial abilities—lost track of time. Had it been minutes? Hours? Surely not days… But down in the Underlevel of Taris, she had no possible means to ascertain if it was day or night. She only knew that it seemed that today was the day that she would stand before Ashla…although, she worried instead that the Dark One, Bogan would be there to collect her soul…

“Changing! Last mag!” Private Gornt was down to his last 200 round magazine. Teks had only two left, one at half charge. Berra had a growing pile of rakghoul bodies at the base of the stairs, indicative of the decreasing fire coming from the Hit Squad riflemen.

“Out! Does anyone have a mag?” Sergeant Alvai tossed a powerpack to the Hit Squad private…Berra couldn’t remember his name…

But before he could slap the powerpack into the receiver, several rakghoul rushed him, grabbing, clawing, biting. …Tylan…Tylan Contares… Berra thought. It suddenly seemed to her of paramount importance to know Tylan’s name, to say it… “Tylan!” Even though Berra’s voice was lost in the frenzied screeching noise, the private gave a solemn salute to the Miraluka in thanks. Then he pulled the regulator pin to the powerpack.

“Frell you!” He defiantly yelled at the rakghouls even as his voice—his body—began to change. “Hit Squa—!” The powerpack violently exploded, knocking down all of the rakghoul in the room as well as shaking the entire building. But before the creatures could even rise, they were trampled by the sea of rakghouls waiting outside.

“Pull back!” Sergeant Alvai’s voice carried in the brief lull. Everyone gathered around the lift, except Private Gornt and Berra.

“Take them up, Lhyli!” Berra’s saber cut swathes through the rakghoul masses but everyone that she killed was replaced by two more. Gornt was firing one round at a time, making as many of those head shots as he possibly could. “That’s an order, sergeant!” Alvai looked as if to argue, but Berra could sense her hesitation. “NOW DAMMIT!” She punctuated the expletive by decapitating three rakghouls at once.

“You heard the Mistress! Everyone in! NOW!” They all piled in, a tight fit. Berra and Gornt remained where they were. Saying a quick prayer in Mando’a, Sergeant Lhyli Alvai gave due to those who had sacrificed much and punched the “Up” button.

The turbolift didn’t move.

There was no response at all; no doors trying to close, no displays lighting up, no movement at all. Nothing.

Sergeant Alvai gave a morose laugh. …Of course… She thought. “Everyone…out. We make our last stand here, now.” From the looks on the faces of the rest, they knew what that entailed. And yet, not one showed any fear whatsoever. Instead, they nodded to one another and joined Berra and Gornt just outside the lift.

“Looks like we won’t be going anywhere, Mistress. Looks like the lift got shwacked when the powerpack overloaded.” Sergeant Alvai’s voice was light, almost conversational. Berra nodded. She too understood. The tall Mandalorian woman took out the two thermal detonators and prepared to prime them. “Mistress, it’s been a pleasu—”

But just as she was about to depress the buttons to the detonators, the all heard multiple reports from explosions. And while some of the rakghouls within the building were still intent upon them, most of the others had turned in response to this new development.

Berra projected her senses outwards, finding nothing, feeling nothing…

But then, just on the periphery she felt…someone; no, someones she corrected herself. Force-users, and powerful ones at that. And even though she kept a constant vigil with her saber, ensuring that no rakghouls made it past her, Berra breathed a sigh of relief.

Master Rakham must have made it, and with him, the Templars.

<<<<< >>>>>

They’d been rescued by a joint group of Templars consisting of Master Rakham, Mistress Dala, Rawbacca, Nadia, and Edda, a squad of Iron Knights, two full contingents of Hit Squad mercs lead by Commander Tarr, Koawan Jorya Fah ni’ Vih’Torr, and—most unexpectantly—an entire platoon of Vhal’Dan Gray Jedi, the “friends” that Rakham had commanded Rawbacca get on the holofeed. And while they didn’t kill every rakghoul, there were literally thousands of the creatures dead or dying around them.

As soon as she could, Berra approached Rakham and Dala, giving them both a tight embrace. Sergeant Alvai and the rest of Hit Squad joined the other Mandalorians, all of them distraught at the news of their comrades’ deaths, especially Jorsk Un-Haku. But they would properly honor them later.

“It was Corporal Eishan’s communique that was able to help us locate you. Somehow, you all were completely off-grid by a half-kilometer.” Rakham’s voice was equal parts stoic and relief.

Berra nodded. “It was the Force Suppression, well at least in part. There was also an electronic counter-measure signal that had blanketed the entire floor of the Undercity. Looks like Corporal Eishan was able to get above the jamming…”

“A fortuitous occurrence, one that Master Rakham’s Hit Squad members were finally able to detect.” A clear voice came from behind Berra, although she’d sensed this human’s approach. Turning, she faced the newcomer. “Mistress Tarun, I am Listian Demarcus, Arbiter of the Vhal’Dan. It is my honor to finally make your acquaintance.”

He had a kindly face, a graying beard below steel-gray eyes and a balding head. Slender and of average height, the man was surprising to Berra. He was incredibly powerful in the Force. “Arbiter Demarcus, I believe that I owe you and your Gray Jedi a debt of gratitude.” She covered her heart with both hands, bowing at the neck.

Listian smiled and bowed at the waist. “Not at all. Besides, many of us Vhal’Dan owe D’Aylanna much more than just ‘gratitude.’” He was about to say something else but was interrupted by Jorya.

“Excuse me, Mistress Tarun?” Berra turned, facing the tall Togruta koawan. “But just where is my mother?” Jorya’s blue eyes were full of worry, her hand involuntarily fidgeting with her saber’s emitter.

…By Ashla…I’d forgotten… Berra thought. “Jorya, your mother was hurt but Teks was able to help her.” The Miraluka turned back to the tall human. “Master Rakham, Mistress Dala, I need your help, please! D’Aylanna needs your skills!” Even as she spoke, she led them to where D’Aylanna lay. Jorya rushed up to the makeshift stretcher, gently cradling the Hapan woman’s head in her lap.

“Mother? MOTHER?! MOM?!? Jorya’s frantic voice became shrill. “Please! What’s happened to her?!” Her delicate orange fingers gently stroked D’Aylanna’s pallid face, her normally blue lips pale, ragged breathing erratic and wheezing. Jorya’s quiet sobs filled Berra’s ears, piercing and sorrowful. For a moment, the Miraluka thought that the Togruta was mumbling but then she soon realized that that wasn’t it.

Jorya was singing. Listening carefully, Berra thought that the young woman was singing a…Hapan lullaby? She turned to Rakham and Dala where they spoke in quiet tones off to the side. “Please Master, Mistress…can you do anything to help her?”

Both of the Templar masters exchanged looks. “We’ll do what we can, Berra.” With that, Rakham walked towards D’Aylanna and then, grabbing his wife’s hand, closed his eyes to concentrate. A soft but perceptible aura encompassed both Rakham and Dala, and when they laid their hands upon her, D’Aylanna as well.

The change was as remarkable as it was conspicuous: D’Aylanna’s neck fully closed, a thin scar the only evidence of the vicious cut, her lips regained their dark blue hue, her deep olive skin recovering from the pallor, the dark circles around her eyes disappeared altogether.

But regardless, D’Aylanna still lay in a deep coma.

Physically, the Hapan woman was in excellent health. But…for unknown reasons, she was still comatose.

Rakham approached the Togruta, the tall human dwarfing even Jorya. “I’m sorry, Jorya. I’ve done everything that I can. I promise to help out, to make sure that D’Aylanna regains consciousness. But right now, we need to get the hell out of here.”

Even with red, tear filled eyes, Jorya’s gaze was intense. As was her resolve. “I…understand Master Crescentfall. I…appreciate what you and your wife have done.” Her eyes suddenly turned hard. “…And I’ll hold you to your promise. And so will my Dad.” She turned to go but paused, quickly looking back and reached up to give Rakham a quick peck on the cheek, doing likewise to Dala. “Thank you, both of you.” With that, she picked up D’Aylanna, carrying the Hapan woman in her arms. The diminutive woman looked like a doll in her daughter’s arms.

“Master Rakham, I’ll give you whatever help you require as well.” Listian said behind him, his voice formal. Then, it softened. “…I know that we’ve all lost some people. Let’s see what we can do to ensure we lose no more…” With a nod to Rakham, the Vhal’Dan Arbiter bowed to Dala and then followed Jorya.

Leaving Berra, Dala, and Rakham.

Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Rakham gave himself a shake. “Dammit, every two steps forward we take, we have to take one back…” He looked from the Miraluka to the Twi’lek. “I’m going to make these Revenant pay. And not just for those we’ve lost…”

From behind him, Rawbacca roared a question in Shyriiwook. “No, we’re going.” From his robes, he withdrew the datanode that Teks had silently given him. “And this time, we have exactly what we need.”

buenas dias

Chapter 28: Fire and Brimstone, Part 1

The soldering iron was like a magic wand in Faradi's long, spindly green fingers, moving in time with the orchestral music blaring over the laboratory's speakers, dancing a waltz across the exposed circuit boards in Kyber's brand new Beskar chest. Faraday smiled genuinely, humming along with the music as he set aside the soldering iron and picked up a circuit tester, touching it to various places and waiting for the green light to indicate a solid connection. There were two more wires to plug in; each to the metal bands wrapping around the shard crystal in it's socket. He plugged them in unceremoniously, and stepped back to review his work as blue photoreceptors glowed to life. He pointed at the control unit for his music, and with a twisting motion, the volume decreased itself.
"Khyber, can you hear me?" He asked pleasantly, still wearing his unsettling, gold-flecked smile.
"I can hear you." Khyber replied.
"Excellent. Please refrain from moving, we have to run some diagnostics. Can you see me? Excellent, please, read the figures off this chart for me…"

…

"Feet flat, feet flat.." Edda muttered to herself, moving deftly around the floor, dodging the stinging bolt launched by one training probe, and with a pirouette, parrying the next probe's blast, even as a third charged it's weapon to fire. She brought the lightsaber around gracefully, taking two quick steps backwards. The first probe's second bolt sizzled through the air where she'd been, and the third's bounced harmlessly off her saber. Beads of sweat began to form on her brow, as her dance continued, under the watchful eye of Heditt Crescentfall…

…

Berra breathed in the scent of her tea as her reader drone spoke in it's comforting tone. She wasn't paying much attention. She was recalling the sound of Jorsk's voice as he'd read to her, the feeling of her head on his shoulder. She thought of the day they'd met. He'd gotten completely lost trying to explore the Archive for a tactical assessment, and bumped into her. She'd given him a tour, and something had just clicked. They were laughing together almost immediately, and when she'd asked him to have dinner with her that night, he'd agreed in a heartbeat. She'd never thought that she'd fall for a soldiering type, but she had, and now he was gone. The thought broke her heart...

...

"Ssssss ssss sss ss!" Sahka laughed mirthfully as Rahl, the young turncoat Revenant, stumbled into the trap she'd set on the Dejaric board between them. He smiled ruefully, realizing his mistake too late.
"Excellent match, Master Sahka. Shall we reset?" He said warmly.
"Perhaps later, friend. This one needs resst." She rose from the table and offered a bow to her opponent. In the weeks since they'd arrived, the Revenant defectors had been interrogated and interrogated again, and now were allowed some measure of freedom. Rahl rose as well, and made his way to one of the libraries, picking through ancient leather-bound tomes and dusty holograms, searching for something to catch his interest. Finally, something did; Avian Fauna of Naboo, written by Master Jonna Dirrell. He smiled contentedly and made his way to one of the many reading nooks scattered around the archive. He rather liked it here, with these friendly people. He resolved to do whatever it took to protect his new friends, as he began reading a fascinating account of a songbird called the Redchested Noa…

…

Teks walked down a hall, trailing a hand along the wall and humming absent-mindedly. She had been feeling good, in a way that she couldn't quite describe. It had started on Taris, and this feeling had grown and grown since. Yesterday, Faradi had taken the mask and a final set of readings from her. He muttered something about his suspicions being confirmed, and thanked her for help. She wasn't quite sure what it had been about, but she was glad she could help. The experience had been foggy in her mind, and that fog persisted when she tried to recall her time with the mask. Later, she would ask Faradi to explain more, but for now, she was fairly happy to be led wherever the Force took her as she explored the Archive…

…

Rakham looked at his assembled allies around the table. Kathracite, leader of the Iron Knights. Sam, the long forgotten Jedi swordsman. Captain Edrian Nemo, smuggler and rogue. Commander Yefim Tarr, leader of the battered but still proud Hit Squad. Rys Treller, cyborg freedom fighter and explosives expert. Master Dena, exiled Togruta Jedi Master. Kathracite, the freshly upgraded leader of the Iron Knights. And then those who were more than allies. Heditt, his brother, Dala, his wife. Tasrii and Nadia, his adopted sisters. His family. He'd gathered these people here to make their final plan, to end this private little war, but as he gazed around at his allies new and old, a laugh began to build in his chest, and his eyes twinkled through the wreath of pipe smoke about his face. Several of them looked at him with worry, until he finally spoke.
"The Revenant are fu-"

TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter 28: Fire and Brimstone, Part 2

The Archive was a flurry of activity. The plan was made, and in twenty four hours, the war would be over. The Iron Knights, Revenant Defectors led by Anzio Ket, Hit Squad, and a Templar strike team led by Berra would be on the Narudar. Berra's team consisted of Teks, Faradi, Stikes, Sahka, Stringer and Callo Morn, Dala and Rawbacca. Heditt accompanied them. Nemo and Treller would be on the Fugitive with the Steel Guard, Khyber, Bondar, Corusca, Damind and Dragite. Tasrii and Rakham would flying their custom Eta-2 Jedi Starfighters.

The plan was fairly simple. The data retrieved from Taris had led them to a long abandoned space station, which Anzio corroborated. This was the personal lair of Annora, and it would be the last fortress of the Revenant. The station would be heavily defended, but not impenetrable. The first part was up to Nemo, Treller and the Steel Guard…

…

"Dropping out of hyperpace… NOW!" Nemo shouted over the din of proximity alarms. He snatched the two throttle levers back and the viewport was suddenly filled with the space station's hull. He pulled up, hard, and the Fugitive swept up along the side of the station. He throttled down, preparing for the next maneuver. He figured he had three seconds before the station's turbolasers ripped them apart. In one and a half, the Fugitive was diving into a hangar bay, skidding to a stop and breaking the landing gear. It hadn't even stopped moving before the boarding party was running down the half-extended ramp. Nemo held a shatter pistol in each hand, his long brown coat flowing behind him. The Steel Guard came next, each of the five activating their lightsabers as they hit the deck. Khyber's blue, Bondar's green, Dragite's Yellow, Corusca's Purple and Damind's red. Finally Treller descended, wearing armor and wielding a blue lightsaber, with a satchel over his shoulder.
The hangar was deserted but for a forgotten light freighter and two long outdated starfighters, all covered in dust and rust.
"This way!" Nemo said, pointing to a door in the far wall with one of his pistols. "We don't want to be here when the Revenant figure out where our ship went!"

The group moved quickly. This station was old, and many of the lights had long gone out. The doorway led into a dark hallway, but the glow of their sabers, especially the overcharged ones belonging to the Steel Guard, washed the corridor in multicolored light. According to the schematics they'd found, their objective would be two decks down, and in the core of the station. As they made their way through the dark corridors, they all began to feel uneasy. There were no alarms blaring, no droids scurrying, no Force Lords hiding in the dark. Just silence, and an oppressive cloud in the Force that promised them, they were not alone.

Finally, they found a working lift, and used it to reach the level of their objective. From the doors of the lift, it was a straight shot down fifty feet of corridor to the objective. They found themselves readying weapons as the lift lowered, certain that the Revenant waited on the other side. The doors hissed open.

More darkness. They exited the elevator slowly, guards raised. Treller was the last, and as soon as he stepped out into the black corridor, the doors slammed shut with unnerving force, and the trap was sprung. Droids poured out of doors on each side of the hallway, blasters blazing. The Steel Guard moved to the front, their Beskar plate able to absorb all the fire the droids could give. Khyber and Damind spun their blue and red sabers into a shield, deflecting as much incoming fire as possible. The other three began firing their wrist-mounted shatterguns into the battalion of droids. Nemo pressed his back again Khyber's, and Treller did the same with Damind.
"What do we do?" Treller yelled.
"We gotta push through!" Nemo responded in a shout. "Khyber, you hear me? We gotta push them, before more of them come down the lift!"
"I understand. Damind, we'll use our lightsabers. The rest of you, continue to fire." Khyber responded in his cool, rich monotone.
The two of them suddenly became a whirlwind of destruction, leaping forward into the crowd. Their fellow Iron Knights continued to fire at a rate that seemed impossible when compared to their precision, each round smashing some critical component of an enemy droid. The air was still thick with fire, but as one, the Steel Guard moved forward. Soon, Nemo and Treller found themselves stepping over shattered droid parts as the lift door shrank further and further away. The blaster bolts pinging off of the Iron Knights' armor was deafening, as was the roar of their overcharged lightsabers. The lightsabers did too much damage to the droids they hit for their auto repair to manage, but the ones taken down by shattergun fire were already beginning to reform behind the party, and Nemo began firing shots into the writhing mass of metal behind them at random. It seemed like years passed, when finally, he heard Khyber's voice, and noticed that the sound had quieted; the humming of lightsabers and clanking and chattering of the auto repair systems was all that was left.
"Captain Nemo, we made it."

The room before them housed the control system for all the weaponry and shielding systems. As Treller unshouldered his satchel, everyone moved into the room. Khyber and Damind stood in the door with their sabers at the ready. Corusca, Bondar and Dragite had taken the brunt of the fire, and were looking worse for it. Their armor plating was pitted, and their exposed joints had taken hits. One of Bondar's photoreceptors was shot out, and Corusca dragged a foot limply.
"We'll keep you safe. Do what we came to." Kyber said, and Nemo and Treller got to work. The satchel was opened to reveal an explosive charge that would take out half this deck…

…

"Black-3, this is Black-2, how copy?" Rakhams voice crackled in Tasrii's ear, over the Eta-2's comm system.
"Solid copy, Black-2. How you doing, Rak?"
"Fandamntastic. I wish we'd finished work on these an age ago, this thing is amazing!" He replied.
"I know what you mean. Ten seconds." Tas said, placing a hand on the hyperspace control. The Jedi Starfighters were small enough that they wouldn't have to try any tricks like Fugitive had, they could evade the turbolasers easily.
"Five seconds. May the Force be with you." Rakham's voice came again, and after a few beats, the two starfighters dropped out of hyperspace, ten kilometers from the station. Immediately, warning bells chimed in Tas' cockpit, and in the force. Three triangles appeared on her targeting display.
"They've scrambled fighters, Black-2!" She said into the comm, and armed her weapons.
"I see them, Black-3. Split off and engage. Remember Ryloth?'
"Affirmative, Black-2. Let's do it."

The two fighters stayed neck and neck, side by side, and punched the throttles. The Eta-2 had been fast in it's day, but these were equipped with highly modified aftermarket engines and thrusters, along with upgraded laser cannons, an extra battery of which replaced the ion cannons initially equipped. They were a blur, streaking across the void in an instant, facing the trio of Revenant fighters head on. At the last second, the pair peeled off, Tasrii to one side and Rakham from the other, and using the Etas' extreme maneuverability, looped back on the fighters, catching them in a crossfire. They raked the three craft, destroying two and disabling the third. Alarms rang again in their cockpits, signaling more fighters scrambling.
"Good shooting, Black-3. I think that's our cue to get out of here." Rackham said.
"I think I see an in, follow me!" Tasrii replied. She saw a hangar opening near the top of the station and gunned it. The two Etas were landing gracefully by the time the fresh Revenant fighters hit their afterburners, and the pilots stepped out.

Tasrii wore her red Mandalorian armor and brown cape. Her lightsaber hilt was in her hand. Rakhsm wore simple brown robes, and a hooded cloak. As he walked across the hangar floor, he produced a pipe and lit it. Smoke wreathed his head. As the two met between their fighters, his shadowed eyes locked onto her visored ones, as if by instinct, and neither of the spoke. They didn't need to. They could feel their objective, all the way at the top of the station…

…

"Why does this have to be so damn complicated!" Nemo growled, kneeling in front of the bomb beside Treller. Neither of them had noticed the neat, black hole burned into the side of the satchel, until they'd tried to arm the bomb and nothing happened. Now, they were working furiously to repair the rat's nest of damaged wires, and the room they were in was under a serious siege. The corpses of both droid and Revenant were forming a pie at the door. Corusca lie dead. A Revenant had beheaded her, and driven his saber down into her neck. The three pieces of his body lied next to hers. An explosion rocked the room suddenly, knocking Khyber onto his back, and sending the two men sprawling.
"We've gotta hurry!" Treller shouted over the ringing in his ears. As his vision cleared, he could see Nemo, a hand on the side of the bomb, staring at the timer as pale as a ghost
"Oh no, oh please no." He whispered.
"Nemo, what's happening!" Treller shouted. The sound of clashing lightsabers filled his ears.
"My hand hit the wires…" He responded, too quiet for Treller to hear. Nemo was holding his hand stock still. Treller crawled over to him, and saw what Nemo was staring at.
The timer read two seconds.

Treller waited for it to reach one. And waited. It was frozen.
"It'll blow if I move my hand! You have to run!" Nemo said, coming to his senses, or at least, to terms.
"We can't leave you!" Treller shouted back.
"No choice! Go!"
"What if the bomb doesn't go off?"
"Then those Mandalorians are in for a bumpy ride! All of you, get out of here!"
"Captain Nemo, are you sure?" Khyber called out.
"Go, before it's too late, dammit!" Tears were streaming down Nemo's face. "And Treller, take care of my ship!"
Treller nodded.
"Captain Nemo, may the Force be with you." Khyber said, and hesitated for a long second.
"Steel Guard, push through! For Corusca, and for Captain Nemo!"

They were on the lift in less than a minute.

…

It wasn't long before the first blaster bolt buried itself in Nemo's side. The pain was unbearable, worse than anything he'd ever felt. He held on, as the second and third hit, and the pain doubled, tripled, and then receded. His vision was blurred. He hadn't given them enough time. They needed longer.

He thought of home. Rolling green pastures. Cozy little pubs. His dad's face. His little sister's. The fourth bolt hit. His first kiss. The fifth burned into his thigh. His last kiss. His ship, his beautiful ship.

He slumped over to the floor. The timer read 00:02

00:02

00:02

00:02

00:01

00:00

…

As Treller and the remaining Steel Guard stepped off the lift, the floor shook violently, with a deafening boom. Their mission was complete.

…

The Narudar dropped from hyperspace with her guns blazing. A swarm of starfighters was shredded, and the rest were picked off slowly. The crew on the bridge held their breath, waiting to see if the turbolasers would tear the Narudar apart just as easily,but the fire never came, and their approach to the station's main hangar was unimpeded. The ship came in slowly, set down easily. The hangar had, wisely, been recently abandoned. The Narudar's turrets made quick work of the ships still inside, and the teams quickly disembarked.

Dala led Auresh, which was made up of the Iron Knights and Revenant defectors. Anzio stood proudly at her side. Besh was made up of the Templar strike team, and Cresh were Hit Squad. Aurek and Besh were to secure as much of the station as possible. Cresh would protect the hangar, their escape route.
The first two teams moved quickly to the bay doors. The control panel was sliced quickly, and they were through, into battle.

The Revenant had tried to set an ambush. Droids had set a crossfire in the darkened corridor, and swordsmen were waiting behind them.

They had not expected the ferocity of the Templars and their allies.

…

Tasrii and Rakham walked silently. They knew that the lift at the end of this hall was the one they needed. Tasrii pressed the button, and the doors whooshed open. They rode it upwards. When it opened, they would face Annoura. Even without speaking, they understood one another, not through telepathy, but through familiarity.
May the Force be with you, sister.
And with you, brother.
Remember to guard against her lightning.
Remember your left leg acts up sometimes.
Your whiskey's on me when we get home.
Your agavinol's on me.

The sweet smell of burning tobacco permeated the lift. It reminded Tasrii of home. Lifting boulders with her mind on Oros. Eltoo's snarky quips. Koloa trees.

Rakham tasted it it's sweetness, and thought of the warehouse he'd shared with Heditt. All those hours they'd shared, him showing Rakham how to program a droid brain, Rakham showing him how to counter Juyyo. He thought of the stolen kisses he'd shared with Dala after the Purge. He thought of their wedding. The Fugitive. Adkai's laugh ringing through it's halls.

The lift doors opened. The room on the other side was dim. Surrounded by windows with a beautiful view of the stars. Furnished expensively, but tastefully. Silhouetted against the window, facing away from them, a cloaked figure. The pair of Templars stepped forward slowly, calmly.
"I suppose that you've brought a list of demands?" Annoura spoke haughtily, sarcastically.
"Only the one." Tasrii said evenly.
"Leave us alone. Forever." Rakham added, grinning around his pipe.

Annoura ignited her lightsaber. A long white blade languidly came to life at her side. Tasrii's icy blue saber snapped on with a hiss, quillons burning fiercely. Rakham carried only the saber with the large, curved hilt he'd picked up all those years ago. He took it in his hand, but did not ignite it.
"You won't win." He said, his voice still warm. Annoura did not respond, but let the clock fall from her shoulders. She wore snug black robes that left her arms bare. She turned slowly to face them, hatred in her eyes, and unleashed a blast of Force lightning at Rakham. His saber was ignited immediately, and caught the lightning.

The dance had begun.

Tasrii rushed forward, getting only close enough for the tip of her blade to threaten Annoura, and began probing her defenses, her movements efficient. No strike was wasted; no subterfuge attempted. She fought classically, straightforwardly. Rakham joined the fray, utilizing his old form of loose, deceptive movements, almost feigning drunkenness, attempting to lure his opponent into making a mistake.
Annoura backed along the window, keeping the two of them in front of her. Her movements were almost impossibly fast; she was no saber master, like her opponents, but she opened herself to the Dark Side, bent the Force to her will and channeled it through her body, and managed to keep up. Finally, she saw an opening; her saber was busy parrying a strike from Tasrii, but Rakham's chest was wide open as he reeled backwards after a strike. She charged her hand with lightning and extended it, palm open…

Rakham's off hand latched onto her wrist like a vice, and snatched, hard, dislocating her shoulder and burying his saber in the Revenant's spine. He cut upwards, savagely, until the blade exited the top of her head.

Her body tumbled to the floor.

The war was won.

…

The Archive felt, for the first time in a long time, a bit empty. A month had passed. The Iron Knights had gone first, climbing onto the rusty ship now captained by Treller. Then Hit Squad, their contract up and their honor satisfied, had loaded their remnants into the Narudar and set off in search of more battles to fight. A few of the Revenant turncoats were allowed to take the oath, including Anzio and Rahl. Heditt, as always, vanished as soon as the excitement was done. The rest parted ways amicably, seeking their own paths through the galaxy. And so, citing the need to train his apprentice, Rakham, Dala, Edda, Tasrii and Nadia made the trip to Oros, carrying a bag or two of Koloa seeds. The planet was as beautiful now as it had ever been, and as Rakham watched the sun set, turning the sky a million hues of pink, purple, orange and gold, he smiled contentedly…

END BOOK TWO

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Saber Forum

General Chat => Fan Fiction and Art => Topic started by: TheDrunkenConsular on December 16, 2017, 10:08:42 PM