What You Leave Behind

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 6 - Who We Left Behind
Part 1

Cliff sat down and opened an ornately panelled cabinet behind his desk, extracting two fat tumblers and an ornately faceted lead-crystal container half-full of a deep amber liquid.  He set all three on the desk, opened the container and carefully poured two fingers of the liquid into each before handing one to his guest.  "Here's to concluding the deal."

Cha, smiling, accepted the glass.  "And to a long and profitable partnership." he replied.  He swirled the glass, appreciating the aroma before taking a first sip.  "That is an excellent whiskey.  What do you call it?"

"Cold Stream Reserve." Cliff replied, savoring his own glass.  "Smoky, bold and smooth.  Everyone touts the crystal-clear, ice-cold mountain streams they draw the water from, but the real secret is in the mash."

"Oh?" Cha continued to swirl his glass, watching it glint in the light.  "What's so special about it?"

"I can't say." Cliff replied, taking another sip.  "Family secret."

"Ah.  Well then, I will simply have to make sure that several cases find their way onto my ship before we depart."  Cha's eyes twinkled as he downed his portion, exhaling explosively as it hit the back of his throat.  "Ahhh...  Yes, very good..." 

Cliff grinned and refilled the glass.  "It does burn a bit on the way down."

"But that makes it all the better." Cha replied, but he only held the glass this time.  "So, you are satisfied with the terms?"

Cliff nodded.  "Twenty units plus spares, computer support, CIC software for mission profiling and customization, IT support, training for three technicians and one supervisor and on-call staff for questions."  Cliff leaned back and took another sip. 

For a moment he was ... elswhere ...

A lander screamed down from orbit, the last vestigages of fire and smoke from re-entry streaming away as it powered through the atmosphere on emergency thrust.  Inside were thirty Men-At-Arms, five crew, a 24-man squad of Rangers, and a Knight Liason.  Only two men on the ship knew the mission - Koawan Co'Lin'Jhinn and Ranger Captain Do'Nald Cliff.  In his mind's eye Cliff watched the lander descend, watched it twist and turn.  Captain Cliff orders a high-speed pass to get a visual reference and determine a suitable LZ.  Koawan Jhinn, face set, countermands and orders a direct approach for immediate extraction.  The assets on the ground are in trouble...

"Ten Million credits is a lot of money but they're worth every penny if they help save the lives of our Men-At-Arms."

"They will do that." Cha retored.  "Though I was serious about tweaking the close combat protocols.  I believe the techs are already referring to it as the 'Kage killer' patch." Cha took another drink, using the glass to hide his smile as he read the spike of amusement that radiated off of Cliff.  So ... you enjoyed watching your boss be humiliated and beat to a pulp as much as I did.  Interesting...  "Do you think Kage Lo will approve the requisition?"

"He'll sign it." Cliff replied, his voice grating.  "He owes me.  Owes us all..."  Cliff blinked as the images playing in his mind continued...

On the ground combat swirled, lightsabers clashing at the heart of the conflict as the objective - and the urgency - became clear.  Blue and gold trading blows with red and firey orange while dozens of white-clad troops closed all around.  Cliff passing orders to his Rangers.  Jhinn tensing, preparing to leap into the fight to aid the Knight and his Jedi charge.  with a roar the landing craft swooped in and flared to land - and was blotted out of existance by a pair of shoulder-launched SAMs fired by the Storm Troopers, killing Koawan Jihnn, Captain Cliff, the 24-man extraction team and the lander's crew... 

Cliff blinked the images away. 

 He'd been fifteen years old when his father had died, trying to extract Dy'Lan'Mack and a Jedi Sentinel from a trap laid by the Inquisitorious.  When he's become a Ranger Captain himself he'd looked up the mission file, learned where and how his father had died, far from home trying to save the lives of a trapped Jedi and an errant Knight from the Empire. Oh yes, Silman.  You and your order owe me...

Cha sipped his drink and let his own smile spread as he savored the flow of Cliff's emotions.  There would be no delay, no denial of the purchase.  The sale would be approved and the droids delivered and deployed.  Cliff would see to it personally...

Mission accomplished.

<<<<>>>>

"Arnor!  Come in!" Telow'na Jackson smiled brightly and waved Arnor into her office.  "Have a seat.  Caf?  Cream only, right?"

"Yes." Arnor took the cup and sat, accepting a handless mug filled with the strong, dark-roast caf that Telow'na favored.  Arnor sniffed it appreciatively, then added another splash of cream from the service to the amusement of her hostess, who was now holding her own caf with both hands and smiling.  She drank the black brew and looked like she might re-ignite an old argument about the superiority of flavor and benefits of "pure" caf vs the corrupted version most people drank, but she just sighed and took a sip with a slight eye-roll.

Arnor grinned and took her own sip.  "Perfect..."

"If you say so." Telow'na replied.  She set the mug down and slid a data pad across Arnor.  "The data you requested.  As you can see, there's not much, but what we have checks out with what Cha told us.  We had a couple of hits on him when he was in the Inquisitorious, but then he dropped off the radar for a while.  He re-appeared a few years ago on Fresia as the owner of some start-up firms including Aertemis Industries."

Arnor flipped through the scant documentation on Cha, following Telow'na's briefing. There were a few reports of his time in the Inquisitorious noting his low rank and mediocre performance with some grainy pictures... And then a sudden change.  Arnor swiped the page and her eyebrows rose as a much later picture popped up, Cha, bare-chested and wearing sunglasses with a stunning blond on his arm wearing ... not much at all.  "What's this report in the "Tattler?"

Telow'na grinned.  "That's a good question.  The tabloid published the story shortly after Cha re-appears in the financial records on Fresia.  Its titled 'Nemi's new man - Exclusive pics inside!'.  Apparently a popparatzi got some pictures of Nemi Solsar, a famous holo-drama actress with a new 'mystery man', who looks remarkably like Cha.  They were caught on Spira at a posh resort.  The previous week the lead story had been about a very public and messy break-up between Solsar and her long-running companion Johnathan Swift.  Not really out of the ordinary for this social strata, but the sudden break-up followed by her new relationship with Cha caught the tabloid reporters by surprise."

"Curious ... still," Arnor was thinking out loud, still swiping through the tabloid pictures of Cha and Nimi frolicking in the waves of Spira.  "It’s not really strange for an ex-Imperial to use his connections to join security or military tech companies, using their experience and connections to their own benefit.  Even acquiring himself a ... companion.  If it weren't for his obvious connection to Namman Cha and the way he toyed with Karm..."

Telow'na nodded, tapping through data on her own terminal as well.  "True.  But the timing is ... odd.  Coincidental.  And I don't like coincidences..."  Her eyes narrowed as she focused on her screen.  "Hmm.  This is interesting...."  She clicked, sending the file to Arnor's padd.  "He seems to frequent Canto Bite quite frequently, is a recognized regular at one of the casinos and ... Nyssia-Cordaba Auction House.  Purchases include antiques and artefacts ..."

Arnor opened the new file, a list of travel dates between Fresia and Cano Bite, as well as records of accommodations and financial transactions.  The last page included a list of known purchases at Nyssia-Cordaba, an apparently random collection of old scrolls, furniture, candlesticks.  Arnor noted he was apparently interested in old lightsabers and crystals, having consistently spent more for those than anything else, but they tended to draw a very high price whenever they came up for sale...  "Hmm.  He likes Nyssia-Cordoba...  When is the next major auction?"

Telow'na picked up her mug for another drink as she scanned.  "A few days..." Telow'na gave her friend a once-over.  "What are you thinking?"

Arnor smiled.  "Just enough time to get a new wardrobe and take the Wayfarer out for a spin."

<<<<>>>>

Chillum approached the table with a grin.  "Looks like I'll be going alone, lass."

Arnor jumped at the gravelly voice.  "Dad... What are you doing here?" She looked over at Talia, who was sipping her own drink.  Arnor had contacted her at Telow'na's suggestion.  She was force-sensitive and trained in undercover work ... and had been in a bit of a tail-spin since Illian's death.  Recently she'd seemed to finally start pulling out of it, and both Telow'na and Arnor thought it was time for her to take the next step by getting back into the saddle, as it were. 

So Arnor was meeting with Talia at the local Caf shop, "Mountain Brew" to bring her up-to-speed and brainstorm some on an approach.  What she hadn't expected was to run into her father.

"The Kage had a talk with Meanowan Jackson, and he asked me to go along with you to Canto Bite." Du'An replied, suppressing the urge to laugh as his daughter's eyes went wide.  "May I sit?"

Arnor nodded desperately hammering her own emotions back into check.  The anger she felt shocked her a bit.  Do they think I'm still a little girl? "What...  Did the Kage say why?"

"No, he didn't." Chillum grinned at his daughter.  "I thought you'd welcome my help, lass!  Was I wrong?"

Arnor leaned across the table, ignoring the discomfort radiating off of Talia as daughter squared off against father.  "Help, I will gladly accept, but lets be clear: This.  Is.  My.  Mission.  I am in command, I will call the shots and if there is a command decision to be made I will make it."

Du'An leaned back and cocked his head to the side.  "Why the anger, lass?  All I want to do..."

Arnor cut him off.  "I know you, Dad.  You mean well.  You love me, but to you I'll always be your little girl." Arnor crossed her arms, her face set like flint.  "But I'm not your little girl anymore.  I'm a Silver Koawan, a Knight of the Mak'Tor.  I'm all grown up, and this is my mission.  You can come along, you can help, but you're not in charge.  I am.  Clear?"

Chillum nodded.  "As crystal ... ma'am."

Arnor nodded, drained her caf and stood.  "Good.  The Wayfarer is on Pad 4.  We depart in two hours." She left, leaving Talia looking uncomfortably at Du'An. 

After a moment Talia stood as well.  "Well...  I guess I'll see you at the ship." 

Du'An watched her leave, following Arnor, and shook his head ruefully.  "Well, this is going to be fun..."

<<<<>>>>

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 6 - Who We Left Behind
Part 2

It had been…she didn’t know how long…three visits as she counted by the automated ship that came, attached to her free floating cell, deposited food, changed the air filters and emptied the refresher every so often.  There was no sense of time here.

She was idly staring out the window at the constellations of the deep core when the voice returned…no a different one,

“Hello…are you…Yes I think I’ve got it,” She turned around,

“Cha! This can’t be possible!” she cried,

“I know…It’s hard to believe but yes, my brother was only the second most handsome man in the galaxy” Cha replied standing oddly on the refresher which seemed to be partially going through him…a force illusion.  She immediately began trying to trace it back, to thread her song through it…to dominate his mind like she had Mellichae and Jenira…she was close…he wasn’t far away…but.

A black wall hit her back into her own mind,

“Ah, yes I wouldn’t try that if I were you Darth Mendax,” Nimmin Cha went on, she had known him from the Inquisitors…the layabout brother of Namman Cha, last she had heard he had absconded after failing a few too many missions some years ago.

“Where am I, I demand to know what is happening!” she screamed intemperate after so long isolated.

“Well my friends found you, fixed you up, brought you back here…it’s quite an honour actually, they don’t do that for many people.”

“What ‘friends’, the Inquisition, the Rebellion?”

“Ah yes well they are very shy, good friends, but very shy,”

“What do you want with me!” she was getting annoyed…not just at being locked up but at having lost all control over her situation. 

“Straight to the point then my Dread Lady,” he said with a bow,

“My friends merely thought you might like some solitude during your convalescence… so brought you here somewhere away from possible infection… they want to help you and have tasked me with assisting you,” 

“Who are They!” she raged

“I told you, they are my shy friends…”

“I’m not interested in dealing with lackeys, where are you,” she screamed scanning the room, “I know you’re watching, I will find you,”  she used every trick she had trying to get a sense of them…there in the corner…a flicker…she pressed into…another black wall…

“Dread Lady I wouldn’t press them like that…as I have repeated they are very shy and don’t like being….”

She hammered against the wall…

A horrendous screech filled her ears,
Her eyes swam back into her head, vision speckled with lights
She flopped to the floor convulsing all control of her body lost
Spit foamed at her mouth…even her bowels moved of their own accord leaving her in a pool of her own excrement.

Then stillness…
Silence

How long it was before she gradually managed to sit back up and slouch on her bed she didn’t know, but she did notice how impassive Cha remained throughout,

“I would not suggest doing that again Dread Lady….they really don’t like to be disturbed…”

“What…what are…”

“Please don’t pursue that line of questioning, worry not about who they are, only what they offer…”

Shaking the last trace of the attack from her head she realised she had no control over the situation…

For now…she could only play along,

“Very well what do they offer?”

<<<<>>>>

Myrkr was a dark and jungled world, teeming with life…force sensitive life, predators, prey…in an endless cycle of competition for the scraps of resources…the strong would rise and survive, the weak perished.

This was as it should be.

She stood on a small escarpment overlooking a patch of jungle in a depression around a small lake, Nimmin Cha, richly attired with a deep red set of armour beside her. 

He had taken her from her cell on his Raider II class Imperial Corvette.  Sequestered in the small brig, she had seen no obvious crew, only Cha himself…but the force…there were sickly dead patches, two that stayed in place, two more that moved about the ship occasionally in hyperspace, she didn’t care to guess at what they were or probe further after the…indignity of her first attempt.

“You know of course what a Thought Bomb is…” Cha began over the gentle patter of rain on the leave.

“Of course,” she snapped as the clouds rumbled, rain petered down seeping into her one piece suit, the cold annoying her, she would endure.

“And you know its technique has long since been lost to the Jedi…and the Sith that have attempted it…”

“Yes I know, the last idiot to try it amongst the Inquisitors blew his own head apart,” she hated being so out of control of her surroundings…for a brief moment she recalled the Gray she had betrayed, was this how they had felt as she’d tortured them, imprisoned them…Sympathy was a weakness she did not need…no doubt Cha took no small delight in keeping her in suspense.

“Indeed…they didn’t know the correct…method….but my friend here does…” he gestured beside her…A figure in deep black armour was standing there…she hadn’t even seen him or sensed him until now…another illusion…she looked up and traced a drop of rain down to the featureless helmet as it hit and slid unusually quickly off…no this one was real.

The black figure stepped forward and pointed to the small lake, she could sense the small schools of tiny fish that suppressed the force to hide from the two or so dozen larger ones that used it to find them, then freeze them with a force grasp before eating them.

“Put this on,” Cha gave her what looked less like a necklace than some form of black metal collar of the same make as the armoured figure, her caustic look told him she did not like the idea of being ‘collared’

“A thought bomb as you know annihilates all force sensitive individuals nearby…this will protect you…just…”

She looked around whilst gingerly placing the heavy collar around her neck, searching for others…a thought bomb required dozens of powerful dark side practitioners to create…where were the others?

“ha…” Cha giggled “You’re thinking of the imperfect methods used by the Sith on Ruusan…no…it can be controlled, done on a smaller scale…if you have the will to make it so…now…Watch and learn,”

Energy built up in the lake…a power that was bright yet draining…the rain nearby became cold and sharp as it hit her, the temperature reducing and creating thin lines of nascent ice on the lake…then…

Water shot out from the lakes surface, coming back down not as liquid but as stone of hail mingled with the sleet of rain…the life that had once been there…was gone…a silvery slick appeared on the surface…the trapped life forces of the force sensitive fish…but insubstantial as they were it soon dissolved.

“How…” Mendax couldn’t comprehend it…but then it struck her “You wish to teach me how to do this?” it made no sense why teach her such a power…surely they knew she would turn it on her captors…

Cha laughed, “Indeed, a parting gift, a little education…” he fingered the collar about her neck, as his finger scraped along it began to fragment and crack like flakes of ash.

“Of course…without such a shield I wouldn’t suggest you use it…”

“Why…what is the point of this!” she was confused, angry at not being in control

He turned to face her directly, the smile of a tusk cat looking up its prey, the armoured warriors a sinister silent shadow behind him.

“We simply wish to see you achieve whatever your heart most richly desires….and give you the tools to do so”

The lesson was long and quiet, she was thoroughly soaked by the end, and a small area of the jungle depopulated, it would soon grow back, the only evidence they had been there the ash like remnants of the black collars that protected them by means she could not comprehend, methods they would never share.

After the lesson they had taken her to a clearing where a brand new Raider 2 Class Corvette sat, a grey and blue dagger cutting across the dark green treescape.
“A parting gift from my friends,” Cha said gesturing to the ship. 

“What is the catch Cha,” she replied impatiently,

“No catch, they just wish to give you a leg up, they are a very generous people when you get to know them,”

“Dren they are,” She was tempted to wring his obsequious neck with her own hands, but the shadow warrior that followed him…no she WAS Fear, she did not feel Fear.  Fear was an improper reaction to the unknown, soon…soon she would know everything about these ‘friends’ of his.

He shrugged, “Well it’s up to you…we have played they Good Sullustan as the Mak’Tor would say,”

She didn’t bother to suppress a sneer at his very deliberate, almost provocative mention of the Mak’Tor.

“You’ll find credits, access codes and clothes on the table just inside the ship…this is where we leave you…you are healed, provided for and…renewed…free to choose your path…” without any further ado he turned away followed by his living Shadow,

“What you…” she cut off her sentence, her foot hovering in the air to step toward him… as the Shadow Warrior…not turned…somehow…flipped unnaturally, like a coin spinning too fast for the eye to see…and stared at her.

She was a sith lord she would not fear

A Sith Lord did not fear…a Sith Lord was fear

There was no obvious feature on that helmet to show any emotion…only arms crossed across a chest that she could pummel with a grav hammer for a year and not dent.

Once again she chose to play their game…for now…always just for now…

<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

I absolutely LOVE the interaction between Cha and Mendax; and interesting role reversal from the first iteration of their dynamic (and details like "Dread Lady" just add to the richness).  Incredible the Aethans methods: giving Mendax her "freedom" knowing that she'll undoubtably come to a head with Karm; just keeping with their "hands off" approach  

Looks like Cha is helping to sew the seeds of discontent between the Kage and Cliff (a bit of mental manipulation to drive the point home).  I think that the Mak'Tor might want to look into the secret histories of the Vhal'Dan and their own Civil War before it's too late...if they knew about it    BUT it makes for EXCELLENT pathos!

OMG...the Thought Bomb?!  This...THIS is going to be..."dangerous" doesn't EVEN cover it but... I know that there must be much more than just a "chance" showing, even graced as a "gift."  How did Paul Atredies put it?  "Circles within circles" IIRC  

I'm sorry to say, but I have a big, BIG problem with this though: TOO SHORT!  I really, REALLY can't wait for the next chapter!

[Lord_S_Gray]

Chapter 7 - Cold Welcome

The white gloss walls reflected his anger back at him.  In their thin reflections he had nowhere to hide…this was a true prison, no dark corners to slip a shiv or lock pick…everything bright and visible…the walls…yourself…

Ken was not angry he was being held in a Chiss brig.  He was not angry this was the THIRD time.

He was not angry that he had been strip searched twice, had to repeat his story, his reason for being here, explain the precise nature of his relationship to ten different officers.

“Have you engaged in sexual congress of any kind in the last two weeks?” the stiff Chiss captain whose face seemed to be chiselled from ice had asked on the first ship that had intercepted them…intercepted on a course THEY had provided two weeks ago.

“How is that relevant” he had snapped back

“Refusal to answer any question will result in immediate refusal of entry into Chiss space” the monotone voice had replied.

Nor was he angry that the ship was being searched again, or his arm was dotted with wounds from taking blood for their genetic identification tests.

He was not even angry at the vile aura’s the Chiss exuded around him for being an alien, filth, and intruder – of course their expressions were always polished and neutral, their black uniforms crisp and precise…but the disdain for aliens bubbled like tar from a thin crack in said visage.

No…all this whilst annoying, he could press on even understand.  There was a civil war raging between the Empire and Alliance, there were many who would take advantage, and the Chiss were isolationist at the best of times - he could accept their excess of security. 

He could even accept their xenophobia, he could learn from it, Jorya had once taken him to task while they were with the Sons, he couldn’t understand what it was like being a wealthy human, and all the privilege that entailed in the Empire and galaxy at large – here he felt exactly what it was to be disempowered, under constant surveillance, his mere existence seen as an admission of guilt to whatever crime might be allocated to him.  This was a lesson he would make sure to remember to better empathize with others.

No what made him angry, almost apoplectic, was the way they looked at…and what they thought about her…He was despised as an alien he was not worth their contempt, but Ry…Ry had left the Ascendancy, she had turned her back on the Chiss – she was a traitor, a spy, an object of hated and scorned all the more for having once been part of the ‘in group’. 

While she kept her head held high, her stance straight, Ken could tell each side glance, each repeated question in sneering tones was grinding her down, like the sea washing away a mountain, she was strong and firm, but the tide was relentless….

He checked his chrono…nearly an hour…an hour helpless in this brig while she was questioned…perhaps that was why he was truly angry…here he was powerless…trapped…any sense of autonomy left behind…just like he had been before Black Armour…The white of the cell was taunting him as the opposite of the Oblivion creature…

The door whooshed open, as Ken looked up to the officer he sensed trepidation…he couldn’t understand why…then Ken felt the pain in his palms from his over clenched fists.

<<<<>>>>

She slid her trousers back up under the watchful gaze of two female officers.  While they had only strip searched Ken twice, they had searched her every stop so far. 

There was no reason for it, nothing would be found their body scan devices couldn’t already pick up, it was simply a psychological tactic to demean and diminish anyone trying to get into Chiss space, ‘This is our territory’ the message came clearly, ‘and everything in it, even your own body is open to our gaze’.

The Captain entered without a word, only the brief salute of the two officers.

“Yar'lyakomm'tla…” she said never taking her eyes from the datapad, in the other he offered a small object

“This memory disc contains authority codes and routes sufficient to get you to Csilla. They will remain active for one week. In that time you must present yourself in person to the listed outposts to obtain permission to travel further within our boundaries. If you do not obtain that permission any trespass will be regarded as an act of aggression upon which you will be expelled or destroyed, whichever occurs first. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly Captain,”

“Good, we are releasing you and your companion, your ship has been checked over, this lists the items we have seized as contraband. They will not be returned,” The Captain passed the datapad across, and waited for Ry to thank her for the privilege of being released from custody for simply trying to visit her own home world.

“You know I wasn’t aware that the Expeditionary defence force had annexed this system formally?” Ry tried to add something to the conversation, a vain hope there might be a person inside the uniform.

She didn’t reply, typical Chiss, unwilling to confirm or deny the particular status of…anything…

Ry had expected a hard welcome, but not this…not…she glanced at the list of seized items…power cells, spare wiring, basic tools…she knew what would happen if she protested, they would say they had removed items that could potentially be weaponized and refuse them further progress. 

She bit her lip and nodded...this dren was why she had left…

“Thank you Captain,”

<<<<>>>>

“Right…that should be the last stop and search before we get to Csilla,” she tried to be upbeat…but after three stops she could see the tension on Kens face.

He didn’t reply just stared out of the Gryphons viewport while R6-E3 quietly tweeted away, the near brand new droid lacked the personality of Two and Mutt, that built up over time in such droids, instead it was constantly asking questions asking for its calculations to be double checked…but since the Chiss restraining bolt ‘Ricky’ as they termed it had been quiet.

“Hey you alright,”

“I’m fine…just…”

“Just…?”

“Wish they weren’t such…condescending, uptight…”

“Yeah I know…” she said with a sigh knowing it was unlikely to be better on Csilla,

“Hey once we hit hyperspace why don’t I give you a shoulder massage…” she harked back to their first few weeks together on Aestis Minor

“No…” he snapped,

“Sorry…I’m fine…just need to meditate a bit…”

She felt hurt at that…he was clearly angry…and with good reason…with every delay and search she felt more and more like this had been a bad idea…she wished he didn’t push her away like that…

“Ok…I’ll...I’ll take us out…you go…do your thing…” she said trying not to sound wounded.

<<<<>>>>

He felt the jolt into the pseudo motion of hyperspace as he sat in the small cabin…feeling trapped in his own ship…as trapped as he had in the cell…as trapped as he had in his last dream…as trapped as he had beneath the Midnight gaze of the monster that had torn into his mind.

He wanted this to be over…not the trip…this feeling…this anger this…pain that had been left behind.

He didn’t want to push her away…but he needed to…to…

He wanted this to work for Ry…he had to show her family he was worthy of her…for himself as much as anyone…and the Chiss…he had just seen what the Chiss respected. 

As he coiled into a lotus he tried to calm his mind…but it was just going through the motions…what use were such quaint mystical traditions against the pragmatism of the Chiss…

Did he meditate…did HE try and reconnect with the force…sing a calming tune, or hum a balancing motif…He stared into the wall imaging Black Armour sitting in the same pose as him…No…a killer like that wouldn’t waste time on such things…didn’t care…

Just didn’t care.

<<<<>>>>

“Ken we’re coming out,” she called over the comm as the tunnel of hyperspace reverted to streaked lines of blue, yellow and white stretching back into pinpricks interposed with the red and purple nebulae of the Unknown Regions…well unknown to some.

She glanced back as he came out from the main hold and small cabin, the YT-2660 wasn’t huge to start off with, and some extra Mak’Tor modifications made it smaller still, but it was nicely suited to the two of them she thought.  This was to be the first run of the ship which was an early wedding gift of sorts from Karmack and Arnor, though to avoid issues they’d delayed installing the heavy laser emplacement, it saved them having the Chiss uninstalling them before they reached Csilla and another mountain of paper work – any one would think the Chiss didn’t want visitors…

The strained look on Kens face said he wasn’t enjoying the first flight of the Gryphon.

“You alright, do what you needed to,”

He offered a curt nod.

“Mind if I take it in?” he asked, he needed to show he wasn’t intimate, not afraid…in control

“Sure,” she perked up…he must be feeling better she figured unable to sense a single emotion in her force blindness.

<<<<>>>>

Harsh white reflected sunlight bounced from snow covered plains of Csilla as they descended over the equator, across dozens of glaciers and vast ice shelves, so barren it made Hoth look habitable.  Yet over the horizon a city began to appear, rising upon a glacial flow like a water skimmer upon a glaciers geological flow,

Ken would not get to visit that particular city and investigate how it operated and dealt with the constant movement beneath it - it was not on their flight path, the brisk instruction upon reaching orbit had been told

“If you deviate from your assigned descent vector in any way it will be considered an act of aggression and you will be fired upon.”  Ken had zero intention of deviating a single millimetre.
He cruised gently round the western edge of what would’ve been a continent, overlaid with vast icesheets that cut and fractured rock some 2km beneath according to passive geological scans. The Gryphon handled nicely in atmosphere and normal space…better than the Wayfarer though the hyperdrive was only a transport standard model.

Melt channels and refreezing fissures had created a fiendishly complicated set of caverns and tunnels through the ice, and it was into this web that the Chiss had built the city of Ac’siel

This was a harsh looking world only the hardiest organisms would survive in the blinding rays of the sun and the cold of the glaciers…A perfect reflection of the Chiss stridency he mused.

Above the ice all that was visible was three space ports linked in a rough triangle connected by rows of blocky towers crowned communications dishes and what looked to Ken to be weapons platforms of a make he couldn’t quite recognize, but bore more than a passing resemblance to the charric weapon barrels he had seen the Sons of Kessel use. 

Everything here was cold, stern and militarized, this was what Ry’s family would expected, what they would respect…if he had to out-Chiss the Chiss he would.

<<<<>>>>

He glided gently into a large docking bay, through a force field that kept the doubtless icy winds at bay, the ferrocrete platform he could see as he landed was impeccably clean, unlike every other platform he had seen in his life which was covered in scuffs, metal shavings and oil stains.

A single figure in black and burgundy stood waiting for them.  He felt nothing as Ry came up and rubbed his shoulders.

“You ready for this,”

“Dead set,”

<<<<>>>>


As the ramp descended he was hit by air outside was surprisingly warm and still.

He kept behind Ry as they walked toward the lone figure…The uniform was just like those he had seen on two dozen officers over the last week, ushering him in and out of cells, on and off his own ship.  Yet the insignia seemed more detailed on this Chiss woman, a face stern with military toughness.

“Yar'lyakomm'tla” the woman said in a voice as harsh as the glaciers about them…if this was another stop and search…another bloody cell…Ken felt the bile rising…the anger…he couldn’t…wouldn’t be put away again…

“Mother!” Ry lit up and rushed forward, her full hug met by one much more circumspect and controlled.

“”You arrived on time…no issues I trust,”

“Nothing we didn’t expect,” she replied evenly “A little tight…due to the war no doubt?”

Yim’Lyakenn’tla didn’t reply to that speculation…Ry didn’t expected her to, she was an Admiral after all, to talk about CEDF matters was simply not on the cards…unfortunately that was all he mother likely had to talk about of interest.

“Mother this is Ken’A’Nia Mack” she stepped aside to put them face to face

“Ken, this is my mother Vice Admiral Tla of the CEDF,”

Ken nodded, arms tight to his side, recalling Ry’s advice on proper greeting

“Indeed…this way,” she heel spun to lead them out, almost as an afterthought “Welcome to Csilla,”

<<<<>>>>

The turbo lift opened onto a corridor that of icy blue - the wall, the roof and ceiling were pure ice…yet it felt , warm and dry not wet and cold.  Every few metres silver metal frames defined the corridors, each with a green light that winked on as the approached and off as they departed…

“Field generators” Ry whispered, “They keep the cool air trapped against the ice, and switch off when not needed – a lot cheaper than sealing and heating every metre of tunnel down here.” She finished with a smile at Chiss frugality.

He felt he should say something…break the tension…but kept silent as they paced the dimly lit glacial corridors.  Finally they entered a large opening, a natural cavern in the rock.  This was the city…huge building built into the dark grey, plunging depths into meltwater rivers of deepest black that flowed between islands of rock dotted with large building connected by a tubular transit system.

The streets were clean and orderly, pedestrians did not wander, they walked swiftly along designated lanes for each direction a good third in uniform.  He glanced at the cold blue faces and red eyes, the force either indifferent or slightly hostile…then an oddity a small group of humans in uniform…perhaps this was his chance to make an impression, show he was observant, interested in their society.

“If I may are those human in uniform

“Yes”

“I didn’t realise you allowed other species could join the Ascendancy

“We accept any applicant to our academies, if they are exceptionally talented and trustworthy then they can succeed” the Admiral replied indifferently

Doubtless to be ‘exceptionally talented’ required meeting Chiss standards in a Chiss classroom designed for Chiss culture. 

“Do you get many applicants?”

She didn’t break her rapid stride

“I am not at liberty to discuss any operational matters,”

<<<<>>>>

The rest of the walk and short ride in a six seater automated tube car was silent, arriving at what Ken guessed was a relatively well to do house cut halfway up the nearly kilometre high cliff face above the melt waters that seemed to beckon him to stare into their abyssal darkness.

Like everything else the house was clean, austere, grey and slightly blue in lighting.

The Admiral, as Ry has informed Ken he should call her mother, showed them each to their separate rooms where a small selection of clothes were laid for them, after taking a short drink and moment in the refresher they went to the main room, the key feature of which was the small array of military profile picts on the wall…The Admiral herself, an older Chiss male he recognized as Ry’s grandfather, and half a dozen other ancestors…there was a slot that was conspicuous by its vacancy.

“I trust you have everything you require,” the admiral said as if dealing with a Diplomatic mission from Nal Hutta she didn’t want to look upon.

“Everythings fine mom…” Ry said slightly despairingly, she fixed her stare and jutted her head forward prompting her, the Admiral sighed but relented

“Mack…Ry tells me you are an able pilot…what ships have you flown and what are their relative merits” she said taking a seat on a lounge as hard as the rock the house was hewn from….if this passed for Chiss small talk

“A variety Ma’am…Incom Arc-170’s are my preference as I trained with the M’Tzigon militia in them most, we have a modified version one seater…but I quite liked flying TIE defenders…if your familiar with either of those,”

He instantly regretted the implicit insult of ignorance in his last words of clarification…

“I am…Isolation has advantages but we keep aware of development in Imperial military technology,” she replied evenly

“So what kind of fighters do you fly?”

“As I said…I cannot discuss operational matters,” the reply was as instant as it was irritating…why ask about fighters and not be willing to reciprocate

“Have you been in the militia long Mack,” she went on under Ry’s increasingly annoyed gaze

“Nearly five years now,”

“Including your time with the abolitionist terrorists?”

Was she deliberately trying to provoke him!

“Yes including OUR time with the Sons” he glanced to Ry,

“Have you been in the CEDF long,”

“As I said…” she repeated “I cannot…”

“Discuss operational matter I heard you the first time…” he snapped

“Ken!” Ry darted,

“What, is there anything that is not an operational matter in this place…do I need another blood test before I use the refresher?”

“Ken calm down!” this was not going well at all, but neither of them in Ry’s opinion was helping the matter, Ken should be more restrained, but her mother was being provocative

“It’s fine Ry, I expected as much from a being from such an….undisciplined alien culture”

That was it! Ken bit back his tongue and headed to his room, leaving the two Chiss to discuss operational matter without an ‘alien spy’ in their midst.

“You are a spy” he heard Scrubbers voice in the back of his mind and felt Black Armour Light Sucking breath on his neck.
<<<<>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Wonderful!

I really enjoyed this look into not only the Ascendancy and Chiss culture but also the growing pains between Ken and Ry despite (or maybe because of) the best of intentions.  Beautiful panoramic description of Csilla and Ac'siel. 

But one of the best parts is Ken's PTSD from Black Armor's ministrations.  Such a detail is often forgotten or trivialized; this explores that Ken should...needs some help.  Perfect internal pathos that adds the rich layers that exemplify the fantastic writing in this collaboration.

BUT...again, my complaint is...too short!  Want more!  Can't wait!   

[Karmack]

This is a great chapter, and one that LSG is primarily responsible for.  :-)   The PTSD is something that hits so many vets and we don't talk about it much even with the higher awareness today.  His description is pretty close to what a couple of folks I know described to me as their experience when they came home from Afghanistan.  Not as severe, but very similar.  That Ken would have such nightmares is going to be a serious strain on his relationship with Ry and this trip to Chiss...

Well.  Its going to give the whole "visiting the in-laws" vibe another level entirely!

Great chapter LSG!  Thanks!

[Karmack]

Chapter 8: Allies
 - Part 1 -

Crimson glare from the Red giant leached through the auto-tinting windows casting a vermillion hue to her renewed flesh.  The view was dotted with black specs of space traffic, heavy but stilted heading mainly to rather than from Socorro.

As the war between the Republic and Empire entered its death throes smugglers that had formerly plied a good trade during the war were losing contracts on all sides.  The New Republic could now contract materiel suppliers on occupied worlds without fear, and the retreating Imperial fleet meant there was no reason to smuggle goods in the every fewer nominally Imperial worlds – companies could just ship directly and avoid the smugglers middleman fees.  So they had retreated back to dives like Socorro waiting for new work, the Smugglers Paradise to some, the hind side of the galaxy to others.

She glided the Raider II Class corvette through the traffic.  Any concern she might have had that an Imperial ship would be blasted by the low life’s here was soon allayed by the fact see could spy at least two dozen other former Imperial ships in orbit.

As the Empire collapsed, crews mutinied, and sold or repurposed their ships for a second life, there were three on a high orbit dock being repainted with garish Pirate tags to her right.  If ‘her’ ship – if she could be said to own it, not doubt Cha’s friends were tracking it somehow - which she dubbed Zearic’s Bane, had any unique feature it was that it was in a better state of repair than the others here.

The ship was full of provisions stamped in Basic and another script she couldn’t recognise, a full flight of four TIE Interceptors, 30 Sets of standard Stormtrooper armour and weapons, and a crate full of credit chits totalling 5 million.  Everything was clean and new…as if it had just pulled out of Kuat Drive Yards the day before…yet small things seemed off, the columns were a lighter shade of grey, the control lights a pale green, floor tiles made of a matte steel…as though whilst they could produce ships exactly like the Empire, they sourced their materials from different mines and factories.

Her hand instinctually fell to her side…gently stroking her new sabre.  She had found a small selection of pieces – Song Steel she had realized after inspecting them…Cha…or more likely his ‘friends’ had a morbid sense of humor - on a work bench near the well-stocked hold…along with a crystal, deep red.

Her studies of the Rur and Kyber told her this was a Quixoni… formed when a planet of the Qixoni system was consumed as its star went supernova, millennia ago fusing metals and minerals in the planet to crystals blasted into the Qixoni Nebula.  But that was all academic, for her purposes it was the perfect crystal for a new sabre in the absence of a Rur…it leached the dark-side of its own accord, with a few uses and practice she would break it to her will…even now she kept a part of her mind pressing its natural rhythms into her own.

She pulled up toward an orbital docking station run by some crime gang or other, dealt swiftly with the indignant droid attendant to pay a docking fee and took one of the Interceptors down to Vakeyya.

******

The air was almost unbearably humid, the stench of unwashed bodies filled her head.

Travelling by ticketed transport was not an enjoyable experience, especially when ones fellow passengers were only a cut above destitute, seeking a new life on Dantooine.  Perhaps the worst of it was she was in the same ship, literally.  Her hand drifted to her side, beneath the dark green second hand travelling cloak were the roughly healed pink scars clashing with Illiv Orfa’s natural blue.

A new life was what she sought…a new life and new purpose…she had heard rumours of a group of darksiders on Dantooine near the old Jedi enclave, but more importantly that it was near a fabled crystal cavern where the legendary Meetra Surik had found a soul-bound crystal millennia ago. Whatever she found there it was better than where she had come from, broken and left for dead on Mustafar by a travelling spacer after she stole a Serpent Crystal from a fool who had no idea of its power anyway.

The droll sounds of the Captain over the intercom, three hours from exiting hyperspace.  Three hours, then she could start to rebuild.

***********

The flight down was uneventful, like the Corvette the Interceptor was similar but not quite the same to Imperial models she had flown, noticeably a shield on the back of the pod, more sensitive controls and curiously an actual leather seat.

Cruising over the Doaba Badlands to Vakeyya the capital she had to pay upfront the extortionate landing fees given the Interceptors unique docking requirements, as if no other smuggler used a former imperial fighter.  That made Mendax contemplate just who these friends of Cha were to be able to just give her 5 million credits and a ship and just let her loose…they must be controlling her somehow…some method of manipulation even she couldn’t sense…something so subtle she still thought she was free…or else they were playing some kind of bizarre mind game with her.

No one could just give away that level of resources.  There was still much to do before she began to try and resolve that mystery though…for now…she needed to rebuild.

******

“RrrckHaww”

“Rorkhaw…” Nyder attempted to meet Gruph’s toast.

They were celebrating, the last haul had netted them 1.5 million upfront from Nyssia-Cordaba Auction house – she had to choose 1.5 upfront or 60% of the sales price after auction.  Credits now or credits tomorrow – there was no need to deliberate in Nyders mind – take the cash leave the risk.

“Here’s to us, best damn vault robbers ever!” Bursa added to his lupin mates cheer.

Solax offered a thin smile and raised his glass to join them, “Retired undefeated, couldn’t ask for more”, it was always a partnership of convenience, and with 375 K each…well they could make their own way now.

With 375,00 credits she could get to a nice neutral system, maybe Hapes or the Corporate sector, away from the empire, away from the nasty dark side artefacts… somewhere she could rebuild.

*****

Misrum wiped the blood off the shiv, spitting out a sharpened tooth as Hydan flopped dead before him.  Hydan was a better duellist, it was true he had disarmed him, but the fool had taken his time, making a display of finishing Misrum for the other Sith Sabres to assert his authority – an authority that lasted only as long as it took for Hydan to get that bit too close and Misrum to knife him in the throat.

The crowd around murmured as he stood, his scale scored, his eyes bloody, but victorious nonetheless. “Our Master is dead!” he spat out a glob of dark blood,  “The mighty Mellichae, slain by the so called Golden Knight, his great works left unfinished in ruins,” His words were slightly slurred, he worked his jaw a bit, he always had an accent as most Nikto did, but still for his first speech as leader he needed to make sure he was heard clearly,
“Our comrades, cut down by his bitches and cowardly droids…but I Misrum now lead,”  he summoned both his and Hydan’s sabre igniting both to add a red luminosity to the thin white of the caves flood lights.  “Any who wish to challenge step forward!”

He locked gaze with every one of the Sith Sabres, the last remnants of what had been a proud force under Mendax, bases on half a dozen worlds, training with Rur crystals, well equipped with Imperial Auxiallires…then…oh then any one of them would’ve met his eyes and challenged, now…dispirited after being beaten down by the Mak’Tor again and again…all demurred to his dominance.

“Very well…now…now we rebuild.”

**********

She had never been to Vakeyya but knew the place, after the Inqusitorius had imploded following Palpatine’s death the now unemployed Inquisitors had followed one of two paths, tried to carve out their own power base as she had from the wreckage, or retreated to slums like this to sell off what military secrets they had and find work as bounty hunters or mercenaries making use of the only skills they possessed. She had been able to recruit some of her first thralls from places like this where the washed up looked for new seas to sail.

She strode into The Golden Gorg Cantina head held high against the vile smells and garish lights, taking in the denizens with a quick glance around.  There was little of interest apart from a group of figures huddled in a booth at the back…there she could taste a little power…

She needed to build from the top down, first the lieutenants, then the cannon fodder.

Stepping through the crowds she loomed over the four seated figures, the less inebriated, there were four, three humans and one Shistavanen.  The furred beast was cradling the head of one of the males affectionately, they all had the look of grizzled veterans, worn but still trudging on…the female of the group had a familiar look about her in particular.

She no longer had the Rur, could no longer use its sonorous rhythms to entrench her control…but to be a Sith was to excel in every situation no matter the tools at your disposal.

The thin man gave her an odd look as the woman turned around,  “Help you,” she asked

“What are you celebrating” Mendax asked as she slowly began the silent process of control, first by crushing the Qixonis resistance.

“Just pulled off a decent job,” the man with his head on the lupine beasts furry chest explained,  “Here,” he proffered on of half a dozen unopened bottles, “Have a drink on us friend”

The Qixoni broke, its power yielded to her will.  She pushed on to the thin man as she ignored the others offer.

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” the thin man’s eyes narrowed, “You ever work with the Empire?”

“Good eye” she acknowledged “But that was another life time,”

“Huh…true that…” the woman laughed, relaxing, “If you’re looking for work there’s a bit to be had so long as you can shoot and fly, we’re not looking to hire if that’s what you were going to ask,”

“Oh no…I don’t want to be hired by you…I want to hire you…” she pressed harder at the edges of their minds, like cliffs they stood, but her tides were deep black and unstoppable.

“Hire? We…we…”

The thin man suddenly realized what was happening, as quick as he sprung up Mendax hand clamped his shoulder and pushed him into the chair, the Shistavanen growled and was about to stand when she pinned him telekinetically.

“You will serve me” her voice clear in Nyders head despite the hubbub of the cantina about them.

“You will die for me,” Nyder knew this feeling…the bile in her stomach rising; her body fought as her mind succumbed….

“You will call me…,” the last of Nyder’s resistance was shattering, her paltry force abilities no match for the rising black flood waters that dulled her senses and individuality.

Iphrati Nyder finished for her – “Mistress”

******

[Karmack]

Chapter 8: Allies
  - Part 2 -

  - Karmack -

Karmack sat still in the quiet of his apartment, the inky blackness of the vale broken by pinpoints of light looking very much like a starscape.  His breathing was regular, his body unmoving, but his mind was busy...

The book lay where he'd left it hours ago.  Well, "paper" might be a better term.  Brother Jo'Nas had alerted him to it, a loose stack of flimsy on a long-forgotten and dusty shelf in one of the Temple chapel archives.  The title sounded like a scientific paper - "Manipulating force channelization and song-activated power conduits in crsytal medium", written by then-Maenowan Odjina, Master of Song.  After brother Jo'Nas had delivered it to him Karmack had done a computer search of the Archive and found no mention of the paper.  He could only conclude that it had been written while the Mak'Tor were part of the Jedi order, and the record had been lost along with so many other Mak'Tor records during the purge.

He hadn't had a chance to read it before leaving for his meeting with the Aetheana Society, but when he'd returned he decided to give it a go.  So, with no distractions he'd started his morning with a cup of caf and the paper and waded in.  As expected, it was scientific, a discussion by the future Kage on the power channels in various crystals and how they interacted with the force.  But more interestingly, he went on to discuss how those same channels could be tuned, manipulated, enhanced and linked using healing song motifs.

Karmack was fascinated.

"Most crystals have one or two power channels." Odjina had written.  "But certain types of crystal, most notably Kyber and Adegan crystals, have multiple channels.  These channels can be shaped, opened and closed, even linked between crystals..."  Karmack had read the paper, complete with citation to earlier works by Kage Dorian and Klu Xandir, both of whom had apparently left large bodies of work on the subject which Odjina had accessed within the Jedi archives.

All that knowledge ... gone ...  Karmack was puzzled by the loss.  Why had the Jedi purged the records so thoroughly?  All Mak'Tor were taught about the Purge, how Grand Master Kimar had expelled the Gray orders, exiling the Mak'Tor and cutting off contact with the Vhal'Dan and other independent orders.  Some had disappeared completely without Jedi support.  Others had simply vanished.  It was always assumed that they'd done so of 'natural causes', but now?  Karmack shuddered slightly as the realization of just how aggressively Kimar had been in stamping out what he saw as heresy.  He'd sent Valens and Millaea to Vyth to 'deal with' the the Gray.

Had Kimar not fallen, he no doubt would have unleashed them on M'Tzigon itself eventually.  But that paranoia, that fear, probably explained why the documents had been so thoroughly purged from the Jedi Archive.  "Maker ... forgive them..."

But this paper, preserved in hard-copy in an archive that had been physically moved from the Spire during the Purge, had left him a rare opportunity.  In it Odjina dscribed everything - how to find the channels, how to visualize them, how they resonated in the force, how different motifs affected them, even how to create them.  And he had the Ancient One, a Kyber crystal created by Klu Xandir, with supporting Rur crystals built to Dorian's pattern.  With Odjina's descriptions and tools...

Can I make it work?  Only one way to find out...

After a light meal Karmack had begun his meditations, slowly focusing on the Ancient One and the Rur crystals supporting it.  It had taken hours, following the flow of the force, tracing it in and out and through the crystals, before he'd finally started to see the delicate network of flow channels within them.  Slowly he learned to discern them, like a musician learning to hear a new form of chord structure or a master technician learning a new computer language.  The Ancient One had always burned in the force with a blaze of power: now it was more, a lattice of interconnected channels and streams, more complex than anything he'd ever imagined - and far more powerful.  The sheer power bound up in the crystal frightened him.  He was in WAY over his head here, and only had a basic idea of what he was doing.  But he pressed on.  His visions of destruction demanded a response.  He had to learn about his power, how to harness it.

There as a system here, a network.  And in that network a very clear reinforcing pattern...

Slowly Karmack rolled the crystal in his vision, watching the pattern.  Studying it.  There are at least three separate systems here...  One was familiar to him - the main power channel.  It blazed with power like a beacon.  One of the secondary pathways was also alight with activity, but with less intensity.  When he touched it in the force he heard the echos of healing motifs.  This one seemed to be carrying the power that he had learned to tap to keep himself whole as the strength of the primary channel poured through him in battle.  But the rest?  He had no idea...

What is your function? He let his point of view swoop in on the lattice, studying the complex set of connections, and he slowly realized that the whole system was hideously complex, very much like a computer network or complex power grid ... or both.  The nets were all cross-linked to each other, with three primary input and output channels feeding through the Rur crystals.  And one ... after closer examination he realized it was a power amplification loop.  Interesting...

Another slow pass, and another anomaly became apparent: the connection points were slightly off.  The triparate Rur crystal that cradled the Ancient One had several connections as well, but he could see the flare of power being bled off and lost at the interface points.  Odjina said the connection motif could be used to align the channels... With more than a little trepidation Karmack hummed the motif, reaching out in the force to nudge the channels into proper alignment.

The channel twitched and moved slightly, giving him hope.  Karmack narrowed his focus.  Sweat poured off of him as he exerted himself, pouring a massive effort into slipping the channel into perfect alignment.  As it clicked home, sealing together with a bright flash, the secondary networks in the Ancient One suddenly blazed brighter and Karmack felt the sweet refreshing rush of healing energy wash away the fatigue of his long meditation, replaced by a feeling of well-being and refreshed vigor.  Karmack pulled back slightly, examining the new connection.  It was now nearly perfect, with almost no energy loss. It works...

With a little more confidence Karmack turned his attention to the next interface and repeated the process, watching the network flair again as the second connection reached alignment and clicked into place. Finally he aligned the final interface, noting the surge of force energy that washed through him as the last channel clicked home and the interface entered near-perfect alignment.

I wonder... Karmack let his focus slide along the saber, paying close attention to the power couplings.  There are lattice lines here, too...  Karmack applied the same motif, trying to move the lattice lines in the power couplings as he had the crystal lattice, but while he made some small improvements the effort was massive and even with force augmentation he was soon exhausted.  There has to be a better way.  Maybe a different motif... He tried other healing motifs designed to re-align bones, nerves, blood vessels ... none of them did more than make minute improvements for a huge effort.

Karmack gave up, pouring healing energy into himself as he again examined the saber.  The crystal connections were holding in alignment, and even the small improvements he'd made to the power coupling and storage system looked to have made the saber more efficient and slightly stronger.  But more than anything else the exhausting effort drove home the fact that he really didn't know what he was doing.  He knew these tools existed, could see how they worked in a very basic, very simple way, but in order to make effective use of them he had to see them in action...

He thought back to Kage Odjina, to the vision of his fight he'd seen recorded in Zearic's permafrost crystal.  I have to see this in action.  See how it was used by a true Master.  And the only record left behind that still exists is in that cavern on Vyth.  His mind flowed back to the interview with Lyssia Andisdottir.  The confrontation - he could think of it as nothing else - had been brutal in its own way.  But something Ms. Andisdottir had said in parting, as he left...  "Don't put your faith in the Myth of Odjina, Master Karmack.  You may regret it." she'd said, that odd blue lightning flashing in her eyes.  The "Myth" of Odjina.  Not the "Saga" or the "Tragedy".  The Myth.

Like everything else, it was a calculated strike meant to intimidate and throw him off-center.  But was that all it was?  Or was it also intended to keep him away from Vyth?  And if so ... why?  Ho'Li had said Odjina was the key.  He'd certainly known more about crystals than anyone had realized, and far more than anyone alive today did!  The power he felt flowing even now from the Ancient One, the way he could see these ... lines ... everywhere...  He needed to learn what they were, how to use and manipulate them, and he had no other guide. His only hope was in the echo left behind by a dead man.

The key was Odjina, and the only way to learn from from him was to go to Vyth and trace the echo. By observing, following the fight, he could learn the techniques.  Improve his own ability to harness and focus the power through this amazing crystal.  Maybe even learn to augment his own body the same way...

For a momement the darkness overwhelmed him again and he again saw the fall of the temple, the loss of life, the death of Arnor and the Mak'Tor...  He pulled himself back, gasping.  What had Ms. Andissdotir said?  "A Mak'Tor deathstar..."  Karmack blinked the vision away.  Yes, he was trying to build a super-weapon.  Become that weapon.

What must that look like to others?  Not just strangers like Andisdottir, but other Mak'Tor - would they see it as a noble pursuit, developing the necessary tools and knowledge to protect the Order, M'Tzigon, and the galaxy at large?  Or would they see a selfish pursuit of personal power and prowess?  Karmack knew there were already whispers in some circles of the 'great Karmack' being a glory hound, a loose cannon...  He didn't allow such things to effect him, but he could not deny this course of action would only lead to more and louder voices joining the chorus of doubers and detractors.

For if he succeeded - truly succeeded in becoming as strong as Odjina - there would be fear from all sides. Some would understand and stay close, but most would simply distance themselves, afraid of what he'd learned...afraid of what he had become.  What he was.

But against this weighed his vision of coming destruction.  What choice did he have?  Darkness was rising: the light needed to meet it.  To wield the Ancient One was not a privilege, but a burden.  He bore the heavy responsibility to carry forward a tradition of defending the Light against the darkness, both without and within.

The Vision...a crystal lattice of unimaginable power...the Temple aflame...the power of the Ancient One...the darkness within...what if - he hesitated to even think it yet it came unbidden...what if he was the one who caused the destruction?  What if he obtained the 'super weapon' and couldn't control it, or worse fell into the welcoming embrace of sheer Power without restraint and used it to remove any obstacle in his path?

"Arnor.  Zearic.  Silman.  Maker help me, even Cliff..." Karmack said the names out loud, talismans against the darkness.  The Way of the Maker was his guide, the Song his pathway.  Only in the grace and guidance of the Maker could he do this, and only with the help of his wife and friends.  "Maker, help me!  The path I must walk is clear..."

"Vyth." Karmack emerged from his meditation, standing slowly and painfully. He stood, stretching as he watched the horizon flare with the first light of morning.  "I have no choice: I have to go to Vyth."

******

[Karmack]

Chapter 8: Allies
  - part 3 -

 - Orfa / Mendax -

There was nothing at the Jedi Enclave apart from wreckage and blood stains, not even any salvage.  The damage was recent, and the dark side still fresh…but there was something else, a lingering…rhythm?...in the force Orfa couldn’t understand.

Disappointed she hopped onto the cheap hired speeder, maybe it was a mistake to come here…so far no other dark siders, no crystals…just…grass land and dead buildings.  The wind picked off as she headed back toward Aurilia, carrying with it motes and pollen that helped filter the stink out of her robe from the transport.

She was just coming through a small canyon cut through a hill when she sensed the danger ahead…she had heard rumors of bandits in the area…she leapt from the speeder into a controlled roll along the road side as the blue flash of an EMP lit up ahead of her.  Casting off the traveling cloak her red blade lit the dusk with crimson fury as she knocked back two stun bolts.  She could feel some on either ridge above her, more in front and behind…Overconfident, they had seen a Twi’lek female and assumed…they would not get a chance to do so again if Orfa could help it.

Dodging a stun net she charged forward into the mouth of the trap, that might unbalance them.  Three figures ahead, one fired stun bolts, one with a vibro blade the other…a red sabre lit up…the Sith Sabres, it had to…

“Ughfff..” she was winded by a telekinetic blast to the chest from the centre figure, obviously the leader…yet…sensing emotions was one of her few specialties…there was an uncertainty in the others at odds with his intensity…he was pushing his will on the others still…a new leader…this was her chance.

Recovering she adopted a low stance and screamed for all her worth,
“Big man to face one woman with all your dren lickers, can’t do it yourself can you,”

Misrum was in a quandary, a force user was more trouble than worth as a hostage, or even a sex slave.  She had called him out, his best option was to order live fire and shoot her to pieces, but doing so at this early moment in his leadership might show weakness rather than wisdom. Frell it,

“Pull back, this one is mine!” he yelled,

Orfa smiled as he bounded ahead, two leaps away she unleashed a torrent of lighting, he caught it on his blade and directed it into the ground, she pivoted as he tried to shoulder her into the ground.  She played to her speed and flexibility while the Nikto used his superior strength and telekinetic abilities to keep the match even.

The Sith Sabres watched on as their new leader faced his first test, there was no room for failure, the Sith respected the strong only, both knew there was no second prize, only a forgotten death.

Orfa made sure to keep away from the canyon walls, noted the Nikto preferred high to low sweeps where he could leverage his strength, Misrum tried to force her into one of the crannies on the rock to keep her contained as red clashed with red in bloody sparks as the stars began to appear high above.

Misrum needed to end this fast, he could lose his position even if he won the fight if it took him too long…he went for the kill, hard heavy blows rained down…but in his flurry he left one too many gaps for Orfa to dart out of, strafing around another downward slash she cut behind his knee, he twisted away and fired a force blast wrong footing her momentarily…but only momentarily.  Out manoeuvring him swiftly she sliced into his shoulder then booted him in the chest as his guard dropped.

The feel of the others was expectant…yet also concerned, for all their backstabbing still some comradery existed between Sith Sabres.  A flourish sent his blade from his hand and she knocked him to the dirt, using the force to enhance her voice across the canyon to the growing crowd of Sith sabres.

“You will call me…” a glint of light in the starlight, she swiftly pulled back and sprung her hand like a sewer-diagona tentacle after a lost rebel - catching his shiv wielding hand

“Mistress,”
<<<<>>>>
It was a strange feeling she’d hoped never to experience again.  Knowing that this other being was controlling you, yet unable to do anything about it.  If there was one consolation it was that so far her new Ferroan Mistress had not demanded any sexual favors as the other Inquisitor’s had.

She sat on the Bridge of Zearic's Bane, a brand new Raider II corvette, watching the tunnel of hyperspace as they headed to a destination she couldn’t quite recall despite having plotted it for her Mistress mere hours before.  Such was the dislocation of being indentured with the force.

They had sold their own ship at a loss, handed over all the credits they had earned from the Nyssia-Cordaba Auction house…her future sold from under her by an Inquisitor for the second time.

 “How long,” the Mistress voice resounded in her ears and behind her eyes

“2 hours,”

Mendax grumbled beneath her breath, she needed to find Mellichae, his Sith sabres were little better than cannon-fodder – but some cannon fodder was always preferable to none. Her current class of thralls were able but few…she headed back to her quarters to the dull stares of the others.  The binding had not been precise, it had been quick, she had no patience for chattel whose ultimate purpose were merely as ingredients in a thought bomb after all.

As the door slid closed she regarded the three black collars she had found in the ships main bed room…three collars meant she could survive three bombs if Cha was to be believed.

Her fingers…her real fingers once more…trailing along each one in turn
“Karmack,”
“Zearic,”
“D’Alyanna”

<<<<>>>>

Dantooine…of course Mellichae would come back here…where else was there for him to go…and yet…he was not here…Mendax could sense the lingering trace of his death on the breeze as they approached one of the various bolt holes dug into the grass covered hills in the Enclave surrounds.

Her Shistavanen had easily traced them with his animal senses, not that it was necessary, she could feel them half a planet away, a dark stain on the green world.

She didn’t try and hide her approach, she wanted them to know she had come back for them…her enthrallment would still linger in their minds…pushing her presence out she felt the first of the lookouts detect her…fell on their face and then wordlessly fell in behind her, three followed by the time she reached the cave entrance where a blue skinned Twi’lek was waiting…uttering a series of curses under her breath.

Orfa had barely staked her claim and now some bitch was moving in on her…worse they seemed to have a strange affection for this one.

“Submit and serve,” The Ferroan called out – it was not a question nor an offer - Orfa sneered at her presumption, true she had a gaggle of half enthralled followers…even still they both knew this could only end one way….There can only be One Mistress.

“This is your failed former Mistress…the one who claims the title Darth in lieu of any real power…pathetic!” Orfa spat to Mendax thin smile, Misrum knew how this would end…Orfa was no match for Mendax…nor was he…the question was simply which he could learn enough from before over throwing them.

“I am returned,” Mendax ignored her taunts, “Renewed by the Dark Side to destroy the False Singer, the Hapan Whore and Zearic the fat fool!” Her hand balled into a commanding fist sparking with lighting as she pushed her will forward

“You’re a failure and a fraud!” The twi’lek screamed, her desperation showing as she weighed herself against Mendax finding she was painfully wanting.

“I am Sith, you are nothing” the Ferroan dismissed, Orfa had one trick up her sleeve, just one…now it was time to play it,

Barely 5 meters apart she unclasped her sabre with her mind ready to…

“GHHAACKK” pain flooded from her back across he body as the knife dug in

“Lady Mendax, the Dread, our savior,” Misrum called holding Orfa upright

“I offer this pretenders blood!”

A thin smile at the ‘loyalty’ of her former thralls creased the pristine blue of her face,

“Well Done…release her,” Orfa’s mouth filled with grass as she crashed forward.

Breathing and warmth as a body loomed over her. Mendax knew she had few enough followers as is, she wouldn’t waste this one…plus a lieutenant who wanted her dead was useful, this was why the sith developed the rule of two, an apprentice who wished to overthrow the master forced the master to stay alert, capable and not rely on her underlings.

“You will serve me as I rebuild,” the Ferroan whispered in her ear,
“And you will call me…”
“Mistress…” Orfa finished, her pride dripping out with her blood.

[TheDutchman]

O
M
G
!!

This chapter was INCREDIBLE!!  Karm, I LOVED seeing your perspective on Mendax; you did AWESOME!  Man, that is ONE.  MEAN.  SITH. 

Excellent development as you dove into her mind, not only the uncertainty but also the "Sith" of her persona.  Seriously, this was absolutely wonderful!  And then the part with Karm coming to grips with not only Odjina's purview as a Master Singer but also an authority on Crystal Theory and usage... Oh yes, this is something that I canNOT wait to read more about!!

And who wouldn't love the easter eggs?!  From "Zearic's Bane," the "Hapan Whore," and "Zearic the fat fool" (BTW I literally Lol'd on those  ), this was a perfect nod in continuity and from Mendax's POV, a window into her need for vengeance 

This just keeps getting better and BETTER!! 

MOAR PLEAZ 

[Karmack]

Chapter 9: How Far Will You Go?
  - part 1 -

Nar Shadda was a rotten looking dump, towering skyscrapers illuminated by gaudy neon, beaten down slaves wandering the dangerous streets. Socorro haphazard - outdated infrastructure serviced a society kept in a sweet spot between anarchy and gang oligarchy.  They didn’t pretend to be anything other than the hives of scum and villainy they were – Arnor could respect that.

Bright lights, crisp clean carpets, frequently swept cobbled streets and irritatingly polite serving droids threw a horrendous visual contradiction to the oozing greed and heartless selfishness of the denizens of Canto Bite.  Behind finely made clothes, rejuvenate-treated faces and quartz nanite dresses were souls that would sell a billion lives to afford the latest Corusci speeder lest the Jo’Nes outstrip them.

The trip to the desert planet Cantonica had been spent rehearsing their cover and getting up to date on not just the Auction house and Casino, but also on current topics of interest for conversation with the wealthy who frequented it while the civil war remained a distant opportunity for arbitrage…

The basic story had Arnor as Talias’s mother, Ylara and Yria Teft respectively, wealthy heiresses, Chillum was Be’Ne’Kor, an antique appraiser, with Talia focused on practicing conversations on topics such as the competition between Aryugna sushi chefs on Spira, the rumours around the next season of the Daring and the Devious, the best Fathier to bet on at the race track. They booked into to mid-priced room, two bedrooms one she would share with Talia where everything was extraordinarily expensive…when 50,000 credits was put on a single dice roll a 20 credit glass of water was irrelevant.

The Casino was huge, a melange of emotions - the elation of winners, despair of losers in the never ceasing gaming rooms, the apathy of the workers, false enthusiasm of the prostitutes…a mix that made her feel unclean for being near it.

Strolling through the wide busy corridors Arnor was struck by the variety of races and species…there was no racism – you were judged on your credits and nothing else – pure meritocracy she mused.

More than once she noted the discreet undercover security eyeing her, a coin in a slot machine or ordering a drink soon diminished their interested and they returned to quietly removing attempted cheats who plied wrist skifters and the like…it astounded her they thought they could succeed.

Pausing by a small internal fountain rimmed with red crystal blossoms she watched the emerald fish within expanding her senses tentatively…there were a few brighter lights in the force…naturally gifted but below functional ability one expected in any crowd…one stronger one, an old Whiphid off in the corner making a small profit off a roulette wheel…a thin line of the force connecting him to the bouncing ball.  Smart, Arnor smiled, doing just enough to get by without getting noticed.

Finally at the edge of her senses something different…a dark splotchy, unashamed tar upon the background emotions.

Moving to one of the infinite number of small bars she took up a stool with a good view of the hall between gaming rooms as the nexus of black strolled past.  She knew that face too well…or an older version…in a sharp dark suit Nimmin Cha breezed over to one of the discreetly placed cashiers and withdrew two stacks of golden chips, four women without outlandish hair pieces trailing behind him.

Moving to the roulette wheel with the Whiphid, Cha whispered something causing the tusked creature to chuckle at.  After losing two gold chips on each of his spins, the Whiphid headed off.  Arnor kept a cautious distance as Cha and his entourage went from table to table playing the various chance games indifferent to the loss of half of his gold chips each worth 5000 credits.

He didn’t seem to be obviously interacting with anyone apart from gratuitously molesting the women he was with…yet they seemed – excited – by his every touch and attention…Arnor recognised the sluggish tar of force suppression that clouded their minds, she had sensed the same off Mellichae’s pawns.  It disgusted her, if nothing else she would be justified in taking him down for that alone.

In the sabacc room Arnor saw her chance, moving through the crowd she took up the last spare seat at the table before the dealing began, using up one of her few gold chips.

“Two Card deal one centre,” the somewhat indifferent dealer explained, dealing two face down cards each, and one face up, the Mistress of Coins worth +13.  The aim was to get as close to +23 or -23 as possible using two of your cards, but you had to use the central card as well.  Arnors Ace of Flasks and Balance at best let her get to 17.

The turn passed around the five participants, most opting to pass, Cha and one other locking in a value, Arnor locked the Ace of flasks, giving her +28.

The second round began with the shifting phase, unlocked cards changed values, Master of staves didn’t help, but whatever had changed for the other players wasn’t helpful either she sensed.

“What do you think, lock or pass,” Cha held his card to one of his girls with blue hair and bright orange straps that could only be called a dress by the most bold of designers.

“Lock,” she said

He swiped it below the interference field to lock it, an unusual move so early in the game to lock both cards.

“Fold”, “Fold” came the next two assuming the smug Cha must have a pure Sabacc.

“Raise” The Bothan at the other end of the table tossed in a silver chip. The Bothan had no locked cards, a bold move. She now had to match, raise or fold…
“Match,”
“Raise,” from Cha, he was trying to push the Bothan out by forcing him to gamble too much on Cha bluffing.
“Match” the Bothan
“Match,”
Cha fidgeted with his card for a moment, “Match”
The next round began and her card changed value again…Endurance giving her 20…it was as good as she could get so she locked it,
“Pass,”
Cha – “Pass”,
The Bothan locked both his cards, “Pass,” Everyone passed and locked they would show down.  Arnor showed first, 20 was a reasonable score,
Then Cha, The Commander of Flaks +12 and the Queen of Air and darkness -2 - Pure Sabacc with the +13 common card.
“Shouldn’t have doubted you…” The Bothan said ruefully tossing his Moderation and Star away.
It was good advice, for the next few rounds if Cha didn’t win it was because he folded on the first hand.  He wasn’t cheating in any way Arnor could tell, but clearly knew how things were going to go.

She kept her senses open slowly picking up a thread as the rounds progressed…at the start of each round the force spiked in a strange way…a piercing push that receded back - a type of danger sense, or precognition.  He was looking into the short term future seeking out emotions of elation and despair in his fellows, working out if they would win or lose then letting their futures determine his.

Subtle, parasitic, yet effective…it gave her an idea.  The next round she focused not on the cards, but on Ken, her sense of pride when he had been knighted, the achievement, the satisfaction…she let herself feel that joy once more…as soon as Cha’s turn came he folded.  She couldn’t alter the others emotions, but knowing how Cha worked she didn’t need to, she alternated between thinking of Ken, Karm…positive uplifting emotions to make him fold…then her injuries over the years, the abuse Namman Cha had inflicted on her to twist the other Chas bet.  Soon enough it ceased being a game of five, and became a game of two.

She got good at it…planning out her next rounds emotions she started to pre-empt him, Cha leaning forward and paying no attention to his female decorations as Arnor won two rounds with pure Sabacc – he could read the players future emotions but not the cards themselves.

“Seems I made a mistake,” Cha said across the table to her jovially as the next round was dealt

“Oh,” Arnor said in her best flirting voice

“I went for a Quantity of Lucky Ladies instead of Quality,” he smiled referring to his mind slaved concubines.

The dealer sent out the central card – the Idiot.  The small crowd overlooking their game ooh’d and ahh’s…with a value of Zero it made pure Sabacc form two cards difficult…but offered the chance for an Idiots array if anyone could get a 2 and 3 of the same suit in their hand, making 0 -2 -3.

Arnor glanced at her hand recalling Kens first steps, excitement, achievement…weapons against her rival. A 9 of Flasks and Endurance were not helpful with a total of -1, she would bank on her emotional manipulation instead, “Pass,”

Before the dealer could even turn to regard Cha his hand darted a card under the interference field, “Raise,” he pushed five gold chips from the pile he had built over two hours to the centre.  He must have a 2 or 3.  He gestured to one of the women, “Get me a Vitiates Victory, we’re about to celebrate a major coup,”

“Confident,” Arnor noted.

“Halfway to the finish line my Lady,”

“When you’re halfway up,” she said tossing in 5 chips to match “You’re always halfway down.”

The cards shifted again, she held the Endurance and a 3 of Coins…The logical thing would be to lock the 3, yet if she could get The Evil One worth -15 she could get -23 with the Endurance -8…odds were worse for that outcome…

“True…true,” Cha noted…”Ah Hyldn hold a minute,” the girl he had tasked stopped.  “Can I get you a drink Miss…?”

“Teft,” Arnor replied noting he was stalling, but the more time he talked the more she learnt,  “An Alderaanian Alpine Tea thank you,” she requested.

“Miss Teft, you’re quite the Sabacc prodigy…certainly know how to play the highs and ride the lows…” he said with a knowing smile, “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you here before?”

“My first time on Cantonica,”

“Well I hope you’re enjoying the aura,” Aura…not atmosphere as most sentients would say…  “Are you here for a holiday or business?”

“I can mix both,” she replied unmeaning fully, “Yourself Mister?”

“Cha…Nimmin Cha, ah our drinks…the service here is exceptional, anything you want at the snap of your fingers…Your move I believe…”

She pushed one of her cards under the scrambler to lock it in.

“Raise,” She tossed in ten coins, “So,” she sipped the citrus and pine tea, “you were saying why you were here Mr. Cha,”

“Was I,” He stared at his card as if by force of will he could change it, then took a drink of his cocktail,  “Raise…” he left his card unfixed but pushed in twenty gold coins – 100,000 credits  “Match…you were saying?”

“I’m a collector, here for the auctions, so many unique treasures, rare items hidden away for so long brought to light, so much to be uncovered.  Are in you in the antiques business?”

“Oh no…nothing so exciting…a salesman…”

Arnor glanced at her new card, she left it unfixed  “Raise...” 30 pieces, half her coins were in the pot, “Something beyond a used hovercar salesman I imagine….”

“Ha indeed, Droids mostly…good solid work droids. And You Miss Teft?”

“Mrs Teft.”

“Ah my condolences,” he said rapidly with a wry grin

“Condolences,”

“Men my dear Mrs Teft marry because they are bored…Women because they are curious…” he quoted from a novel Arnor couldn’t quite recall before taking a sip.  “Both are disappointed,”

“Ha…I’m sure my husband would enjoy that little saying,” she indulged him as he locked his last card.

“I’m sure he would…quite a man no doubt to have earned a woman like you…or perhaps quite a bank balance…Raise,” he locked his card then pushed forward 40 gold coins.

“Any particular objects of interest at the auctions, my daughter and I are looking for some feature pieces for our new apartment, something classy with a touch of history would be perfect,”

“One or two…some statuettes and brassware…if you’re interested in music there are some objects that have a certain…resonance to them, some candle sticks in particular…said to get in tune with mindfulness mediations..”

Just as Karm had said, conversational topics just on the edge of indicating he knew all about you…but not quite explicit enough for Arnor to be sure.  “Match…” she said pushing all but eight of her coins to the centre, the pot was over a million now, the crowd around them seemed to grow in step with the stakes. “Candlesticks…how romantic…” she added

“You’re almost all in Mrs. Teft…an interesting conundrum…do you put it all on the line, or back away and break even…its moments like this that show a person’s trues character they say. Are you a gain chaser or loss avoider…” he leaned forward.   “I’m fascinated to know just how far you’re willing to go,”

The cards switched again she glanced at her new one…she had little option…pushing her last coins in the centre she swiped her card to lock it,   “All in,”

Cha smiled and pushed forward his last coins into the pot.   “Ladies first…”

She flipped her cards…Endurance and Demise, -8 and  -13 for -22. Now she just hoped he had been bluffing when he locked his very first card, trying to use his credits to bludgeon her out of the game as he couldn’t read her emotions.

“An idiot array…” Cha said holding his cards to his eyes as the crowd gasped…

“No…” he added tossing his cards to the table, “Just an idiot who forgot a woman’s face is her best work of fiction,” his cards the Queen of Air and Darkness and the two of staves, a total of zero with the common Idiot.  “Well done Mrs. Teft, a shame your husband wasn’t here to see such a victory,” he raised his glass,  “To Mrs. Teft, my vanquisher, who plays her tells…and her opponents…like a Song.”

[Karmack]

Chapter 9: How Far Will You Go?
  - part 2 -

There was a natural hush to places like this…libraries, art galleries museums, the layout inspired quiet contemplation of the objects behind triple layer transparisteel.  Chillum slowly wandered from podium to podium across the rich red carpet, the golden lights above casting a slightly yellow tinge to white plas-steel armour of the numerous guards.  This peacefulness was at odds with whatever had made the broken metal sword in the case before him so valuable…a strange disconnect between the function of these objects and their place now as articles of curiosity.

The pre-auction viewing was full of collectors and curious on lookers cycling in and out, some fops with interior designers after a show piece, professional dealer with small datapads professional dealers, and finally well, but modestly dressed buyers agents for off world collectors.

Few of the objects Chillum saw had much value beyond their antiquity…a few had a hum of the force about them, some scrolls with secrets and histories no longer of any import…one detailing the thread between Revan and Meetra Surik being one Jedi Master Kreia, another suggesting the Sith had survived the great hyperspace war and a code on how to find them…things that contemporary history already knew all too well.  At the end of the room were objects of greater value, a statue of an emaciated Mon Calamari titled ‘Representation of Xni Plague Victim” if it was odd it was because it was made of a strange carbon …there was little wood on Dac, the small holo-details suggested a rumour that this was actually a plague victim drained of bodily fluid to leave it coal like.

And beside that…a rich Jade surrounding a soft blue cube …’The Holocron of Master Soryu’ the title read. He closed his eyes to reach out toward it…try and see if it was genuine…a gentle force sense should be…

SLAM

Walls of black slammed around his senses, he stiffened trying to see where it had come from.  Beside him a young woman, dark red-auburn hair done up in elaborate loops, ivory skin and a shimmering blue dress…the beauty at the centre of the death of the force.

A slight sag crept into his posture as the force was taken from him…was this intentional or merely incidental…there were some non-sentients that possessed such repulsive fields, Ysalimiri and the like…but for a sentient…

“An impressive piece lass,” he turned a warming smile toward her, she looked familiar…although many members of the Old Houses and Corporate upper class did due to arranged legitimate offspring...

“Lass…” she raised an eyebrow very deliberately keeping her eyes fixed on the holocron.  “What a curiously antiquated patriarchal term…” a smooth and feminie tone belied the invective of the words.  “Do you start every conversation with a woman you don’t know by speaking to her as if she were a child?”

He lowered his head in an apologetic nod,  “My apologies Miss, no offence was intended,”

“None taken little boy…” a snide little balancing shot…he ignored it.

“Do you have an interest antiques,” he probed.

“Is that a pick up line?” she asked, a cheap shot at his age…yet he couldn’t quite suppress a slight chuckle it was a quick and clever come back.

“No, not at all…I simply enjoy discussing legends and mythologies related to such antiques, do you know much about these?”

“Enough,” she peered closely at the holocron, its light dimming as her null field pushed toward it…  “This one needs new batteries,” she said to herself loud enough for Chillum to hear before moving along to the statue, the blue glow returning as she departed.  He trusted his gut and stepped to follow…

She rounded quickly on him.   “I have no interest in speaking to you, now leave me alone or I will call security,”

He could only nod and back away respecting her wishes…yet took careful note of which displays she lingered at…the dead patch she carried was easy to follow…yet strange - surely a force user would know that such a contained null field was just as obvious as a strong force presence…either it was innate to her or…ah of course…she wanted him and whoever else knew the force to know she could nullify the force at her pleasure…it was a statement of prowess, posturing.

She paused at a few items that Chillum hadn’t paid much attention too. He was unsure if she was genuinely interested or trying to throw anyone who might noting her movements off...

His list already complete he waited five minutes after she was ‘out of range’ before returning to the holocron.  A gentle probe caressing its surface…he didn’t want to activate it fully but needed to be sure…the extension of his mind suddenly met a welcoming, curious tug from a calm, gentle presence.  Chillum pulled back, this wasn’t the time…but now that he knew for certain about this mystery he could investigate the next.

He didn’t need to be in the same room - just close enough to pick up the edge of her null sphere as she wound through balconies that overlooked the Fathier race tracks, stopping at a bookmakers as the next race lined up.  Chillum noted the bubble suddenly vanish…the Force flowing back into the void as she glanced down at the animals preparing to race…out of the dark a bright, almost painfully strong tendril reached out to analyse the animals.

Turning back she placed a bet with a swipe of a credit chit, the void returning just as fast as it had vanished causing turbulent waves of raw force energy to churn about the dead sphere from the push and pull…

He had never seen such…blatant indifference to the flow of the force and how it could affect others, it seemed no more than a light switch, to be flicked on and off as she saw fit – if it left others blinded by the light or lost to the darkness she couldn’t care less.

The Race began and the pounding juddered a group of spectator’s crystal glasses…all eyes were on the race but she glanced at a chrono on the wall bored…the shrill finish line alert sounded as she turned to the bookkeeper who filled a small elegant box with Diamond Chips congratulating her on her win.

As she wandered off Chillum moved in on the Givin bookkeeper.  "She had quite a win?”

“Yes sir…” it responded indifferently

“May I inquire what she bet on?” he pressed with the force just enough to get his mouth moving

“She placed 10,000 credits on correctly placing all twelve racers, odd were 126.4 to one.”

She had just used the force to win a million credits…yet how…sensing the physical abilities of each racer Chillum himself could probably get a better than 50:50 chance of choosing a winner…but all twelve of them in exact order?

Continuing along the trail, she seemed to be killing time, occasionally stopping at a gaming machine or table, opening back up to the force tossing in a few of her diamond chips, and winning a pile more, her first box was followed by three more, each chip worth 10,000 credits ... in 10 minutes she made nearly three million credits.

Chillum had used the force to smooth his way out of situations a million times, circumvent bureaucracy and get a little advantage over someone in a negotiation…yet this…the boredom in the brief glimpses he got of her emotions, her utter lack of concern for the turbulent mess of energies left behind.  It wasn’t dark or greedy, she seemed to disdain carrying the chips, it was…Nothing.

Pausing at a dice table a lanky Phindian rolled a two and thirteen for fifteen on the two twenty sided dice, the winner a Sullustan laughed as the table keeper slid the majority of chips across to him, keeping the one diamond chip ante for the Casino from each pile.  She slipped into an opening and placed a small stack of chips on two, once again the force reopened and a clear irrefutable message suffused it – “ALL IN”

The other gamblers slapped every chip they had on various numbers…the result was as inevitable as it was galling for the mugs who had just lost…two ones to make two…once again the bored attendant took one chip from each pile –the casinos cut, then moved the vast pile - at least 6 million credits worth - over to her.

As the defeated wilted and new players arrived, he stepped in placing the small stack of gold chips he had on 6, as she placed hers on 9.  She didn’t seem to notice him among the 8 other players, before the dice rolled she demanded ‘ALL IN’.
 
Chillum was testing himself, he wanted to know how strong she was…  Looking down to his hand unconsciously piling in the rest of his chips he got his answer.

As the dice rolled he recovered enough to feel the telekinetic pressure, he didn’t’ need to do much…as the first score 5 the second teetered on a point, she pushed left, he gave a gentle flick right then felt eyes burning into him – the dice didn’t so much fall as…appear with a 4 facing up.  She won and sauntered off walking past him, a cool breath behind his ear, “Second warning, there will not be a third.”

“Perhaps I can help pretty Lady carry all her winnings?” A leathery faced delphidian said sauntering up to her in what he must’ve considered his most photogenic smile.

“Get lost,” she sneered collecting her winnings into her now overburdened hand bag

“Pretty Lady, this one simply wishes to assist the woman whose luck is only exceeded by the beauty of her eyes.”

Chillum turned sensing the build-up in the force

“Come so much victory must make one…hungry…” he purred “Join me at the Penthouse for dinner…and des…”

His voice stopped dead as she paused

“I’ve told you twice now…go away…you won’t be warned a third time,” she was letting him make his own choice…or rather dig his own grave.

“Come now Lady, no need to play hard to get…” he stepped in front partially blocking her path…then with a gentle hand committed suicide by touching her shoulder.

“Go kill yourself,” she said coolly with a hammer blow in the force, the shockwaves pushing into Chillums own mind.

As she pushed past he started slowly heading toward the window…Chillum rushed up and grabbed him, beginning a recovery tune…trying to push through the dark cloud…He neither resisted nor complied…simply continued trying to get to the window.

“Hold up…” he gritted out

He pushed into his head…trying to grasp the immaterial intention dominating his mind.  As people began to stare he went deeper…such a thin insubstantial thing…he pressed against it…Calm…Calm…Calm….slowly the Delphidian came to a gentle stop, eyes confused and milky.

Across the room, as she credited her winnings to her account, she simply smiled at the silly old human male – so that was how far he was willing to go for another Outsider.

[Karmack]

Chapter 9: How Far Will You Go?
  - part 3 -

*** WARNING - THIS SEGMENT CONTAINS CONTENT THAT SOME MIGHT FIND DISTURBING.  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK ***

She threw herself into the tumult, into the glitter and silks, weaving and bobbing through conversation, thrust and parry of flirts, felling a Chagrian, a Duros, two humans and a Falleen in her fury of charm.  She used her glass as a barricade, waiters as moving cover to get closer to her target who sat laughing and joking on a luxurious white leather longue behind a booth table littered with empty cocktail glasses and half eaten aperitifs…

Arnor had made an in, but gotten little detail, not because Arnor had said she was married, rather Cha obviously found intelligence in women a reason to be on guard.  So now it was Talia’s turn.

Nimmin Cha was regaling the women about him with some tale he found as entertaining as they found his money appealing as Talia took up a glass from a waiters tray and sauntered over, her hair done in small curls that were the fashion of the day, dress an ivory white with thin black diagonals that spiralled up from the hem to embrace her cleavage.

She was primed and ready to strike, noting his every motion, how he looked to each of the girls faces after he finished a sentence checking they laughed, one hand on his glass, the other firmly on one of the women’s rear, accent naturally aristocratic but slightly forced to keep clipped tones currently in fashion.

“…for its clearly the case that the entire message has been sanitized and gentrified, oh yes everyone agrees with his legacy against fascism and racism, but no one wants to engage with the heart of his crusade against poverty in all its forms.” Cha blathered on into faces who didn’t care for a word.

“I’m happy to treat anyone equally, but…ah thank you…” he gulped another cocktail whole, “but I refuse to give up my privileges to actually be equal with you HAHAHA!” the girls giggled in turn almost following his gaze - switched on like a sensor light.

“Sorry need the ‘fresher” one of them parted from the standing circle, this was her chance, slide in, with an anecdote to amuse him…something that would paint her as just above the other bimbo’s but still below his radar.

Slight sway in her hips, shoulders back to press out her chest she stepped across the rich red carpets, pushing out her presence just enough to catch his eye, make her seem ‘magnetic’

He gave her a brief glance as she approached.

“If aliens really want to be equal,” she said laughing despite herself “They should start by getting a job,”

The women looked at her venomously, Cha’s eyes lit up  "Haha…how true how true, the slackers, why don’t you join us,” he shifted the women aside to let her in.  “ah yes what a joke he was…all those speeches an peaceful protests…arrests and suffering.”

“He believed that by showing people the pain inflicted on the poor and marginalised the wealthy would feel guilty, their conscience would make them rectify the situation,” she replied defending the Sentients Rights defender, feeling slightly sick for having besmirched him moments ago.

Cha looked at her expectantly…waiting for the punch line

“Of course…” she thought on her feet “everyone knows a conscience is the first thing you sell to become wealthy!”

“hm…hm…ahahaha…very good indeed,” he leaned forward “If only they sold their conscience for the useless baggage it is rather than wrestling with it they might have time to do something profitable…but tell my what is your name?”

“Yria,”

“Wonderful…a drink” he snapped his fingers and waiters appeared as if from nowhere. 

“Blossom Wine,”

“Which vintage Madam,”

“What a stupid question,” Cha interceded, “Pre-Clone Wars of course, early Veruna era,”

“Thank you mister?”

“Nimmin call me Nimmin…ah yes the great crusader for rights, what a Zealot he was or claimed to be…”

“Probably frelling all those followers he mobilized” she added gaining his confidence by sharing disdain for another.  “A shame he died a martyr to the cause,” she went on caustically, “better he had lived and ended up scandalised or irrelevant and forgotten…”

“Yes a martyr! How glorious to die for the workers and the poor!  Fool, these Maker worshippers are a cancer…so prudish…” he squeezed on the cheek he was holding,  “No sense of fun…don’t you think,” he turned to the girl he was grabbing.

“Yeah, none at all,” her vacuous response only made ‘Yria’s’ engaging tone more appealing – Yria not Talia – she needed to slip completely into the role.
 
It was disturbingly easy after that. With each laugh and witty riposte she pushed in closer to him, stroking his ego with agreement, getting in to a web of art criticism, personal insult and excess that only a man so wealthy no one could touch him could indulge in freely.

Soon she had jostled aside the other women, her laugh more genuine, replies more meaningful hooked him, his eyes sized her figure up with increasing frequency as the night wore on.  It started with a laugh as he put her hand on his shoulder, his danced on her back, then waist.  A delicate finger trailing his jaw, fingers tiptoeing just above her rear, eyes wide and fluttery with make-up gazed into his sneer of a smile.

Yria was willing to go all the way, Talia was all but forgotten as they rose in the turbo lift to the very top of the Casino hotel, he had the second largest Penthouse all to himself.  The subconscious memory motif observed his door code, and the features of the room, only then did she begin to come back to herself – Yria had gotten in, now it was time for Talia to take over again.

His shirt dropped to the ground, she had to admit he was not unattractive, very muscular – almost unnaturally so, even Illian young and well trained was a waif compared to him.  Illian...Just How Far was she willing to go with this, there was a datapad on the table, a few papers on a desk, and in the corner a box that seemed to…not be there.

Firecly strong hands caressed her arms as she glanced away coyly.  “A moment,” she nodded toward the refresher.   With a curt nod and sinister smile he released her.

Talia stared at Yria in the mirror, was she really going to do this, was this what the mission required, he was a sharp man, he would notice any attempt to ply him off. She needed to wait till he was asleep to get to the data points littered across the room.  From her hand bag she sent a quick burst transmission to Arnor, where she was and the door code. Brushing her hair she adjusted her dress and reapplied some lip gloss.  If this was what it took….

He lay on the bed completely undressed eyes twinkling beneath a self-satisfied grin.  Was this how far she had to go -  she remembered having this discussion with Illian, how his cheeks had flamed in embarrassment, how vehement he'd been that there was a line they would NOT cross even for the sake of the mission…she’d never been this close before, the line was inches away and coming up fast.

Locking eyes with Cha her stomach sank a little more, damned eyes twinkling as though he was reading her mind Illian is gone, my mission is now, and I'm a big girl...I can do this...

A dazzling smile convincing her face it was real.  "I hope you're going to enjoy this as much as I will..."

She stepped forward and with a slight tug the ridiculously sheer, dangerously revealing dress slid away, pooling around her ankles. Kicking off her heels she stepped out of the circle of fabric and the remnant of modesty.

Shorn of inhibitions she was left with a sense of guiltless betrayal that churned her stomach in confused circles, trying to push down the gag reflex at the light of desire she saw awake on his face...

As he pulled her down she felt him, truly felt him in the force, something that had been hidden until now: sick, rotten, animated by a nefarious power that made her want to vomit – Talia couldn’t go this far – Yria had no more choice.

With each kiss to her shoulder, each twirl of her hair he got closer and closer, the line was no longer the theoretical Illian had agonized over, it was a black gaping maw about to consumer her, taste her and spit her out a ruin when the flavor was gone...

The door bursting open startled both of them.  "Yria TEFT!  You tramp!  WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?"

She flopped around covering herself in shock that was more real than act, Cha simply remained lounging with the same damned satisfied grin and brightened eyes.

“You good for nothing little Tralk!” Anror pushed in grabbing up the dress and shoving it into Talia’s chest,

“Oh please talk dirty I like it,” Cha grinned, “Mother and daughter, what a treat this will be…you don’t have a sister hiding in the closet do you?”

“Muuther It’s my life, my Body!” Yria protested

“Oh yes…fight, pull her hair!” Cha laughed delighted

“And it’s my money you’ll be sucking if you get knocked up to a…” she looked quickly around the room taking in each detail she could before glancing down on the still naked Cha

“droid salesman…Mr. Cha…seems I don’t need to introduce you to my daughter, but I’m afraid I’ll have to cut your evening short I need to discipline this little whore,”

“Really,” He sat up, “Are you going to spank her...I’d love to see that,”

Arnor’s jaw twisted in disgust, he made no attempt to cover himself at all, as off putting as that was, she knew each moment in his room was a chance to glean more information…on the bedside table there was a comm device that was strangely curved and dark, in the corner a large grey Lock-box that felt utterly dead in the force, peaking beneath a pillow a metal object, likely a blaster.

“My apologies for the interruption…if there is some way I can compensate you,”

“Well this is twice you’ve spoiled my fun in one day Mrs. Teft….almost an occupation,” the smile Arnor noticed did not reach his eyes

“Twice you’ve defeated me,” he theatrically clasped his chest and fell back on the bed, “O I am slain first my wallet now my heart…Mrs Teft there shall be nothing left of me! A Femme Fatal extraordinaire!”

As Talia shuffled back into what little of her dress there was to begin with, Arnor palmed a slicer to her gesturing over to the datapad on a small caf table while Cha lay staring at the ceiling,

“Can I purchase you some alternative entertainment,” the word almost stuck in Arnors throat,

“Oh how could I ever do with anything less than that your beautiful daughter…well apart from the source of such beauty in yourself…”

“I’m sure you’ll manage to get over us,”

“Ah but will you get over the guilt of having so wounded me!” he was milking this Bantha for all it was worth, but the longer he talked…Talia slipped the sliver into the datapads Universal port.

“But very well,” he sat up slipped off and headed to the bar on the far side of the room,

“Perhaps I can drown my sorrows away” every second he spent pouring was another 5% the slicer could decrypt and copy.

He spun around two drinks in his hand, 25%

“Join me for one drink and my aching ego shall be soothed,” Arnor offered a half smile and took the glass careful to stand been him and Talia, - 35%

“To the Ladies Teft, beauty and cruelty, sweetness and deception,” he raised his glass

“To Mr. Cha so gallant in defeat,” - 45%

He sat on the edge of the bed and flicked on the room service console.

“Such convenience, able to order up a girl at any time…” the blue of the screen lit his face in odd shadows - 55%

“You know I was on a business trip to MEeeCheegon, Meeseegon…some dump of a world, puritans all of them…Maker lovers…not a brothel in sight…disgusting frumpy women anyway…but still…” - 65% - her grip on the fluted glass tightening with each insult

“Ah now here’s a looker…now where did I put that datapad…it has my Charge Id on it, can never remember the damn thing!” he swung round, Talia looked down nervously - 75% -

“Please,” Arnor intervened, “Charge it to our room, 14-35 Charge Id 4452,”

“Oh no I couldn’t do that…what will your husband say when he see ‘Erotic Pleasure Services’ on your hotel bill!” – 85%

“Oh Yria, there it is,” He slid across and reached out,

Talia tentatively reached across, one hand holding up her dress – she let it fall,

Cha’s eyes went straight on target

“Exhibitionist Tralk,” Arnor chided

“Get Frelled Mother, might make you less bitchy!”

“Happy to oblige anytime Mrs. Teft,” -100%

Talia lifted the datapad, with a swift motion turned it end over end as she stepped forward palming the slicer and handing the pad off to Cha.

“Ah there it is Charge Id 1234…can never remember it….”

It was a trial for both of them to keep any expression from their face

“Let’s go whore,” Arnor gripped Talia’s shoulder

A flash lit up the room, Cha held is datapad upright the Camera flash on the back blinking,

“A little something to remember the Ladies Teft!”

----

Barely into the corridor Talia was trembling in Arnor's arms.  ”Are you alright, did her hurt you, did he...”

Talia shook her head as Yria faded form her mind.  “I couldn’t do it,” she sobbed as the turbo lift closed.  “But I couldn’t stop…”

Arnor pressed Talia’s head against her own.  “It’s alright, you don’t have to, we have what we need…”

[Karmack]

Chapter 9: How Far Will You Go?
  - part 4 -

Historical Reference:  http://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36209.msg621995#msg621995

Vyth was cold, its orbit on the outer edge of the liquid water zone created by its distant blue star.  Blue seemed to dominate - blue-white light bathing blue-tinted foilage growing in rich soil overlaying dark blue-gray rock...  There was a chill in the air and snow on the mountain tops in the distance.  A light-blue glacier face dominated the far end of the rocky valley, a chilly, rushing river racing along the base of the implacable cliff face while the land rose gently away on the far side, a wide valley scraped out by the now retreating glacier. 

The entrance had been easy to find, the entry trigger familiar, again very similar to hidden places in the temple complex on M'Tzigon as well as some of the Mak'Tor ruins on Coruscant.  With his saber in-hand he pressed the button, senses extended as the door swung open, still operational after six centuries...

From within he sensed only the echos of the past: betrayal ... anger ... sorrow ... pain ...

Death.

Lighting a small hand lamp, Karmack squared his shoulders and entered the silent corridors of blue stone...

******

The main chamber was just as the recovery mission had left it.  The walls and stone columns left in-place during the original excavation work were of the same dark blue stone evident from outside. The center of the room was still dominated by the low circle of gray stone, the destroyed holo-projector decaying in the center. Black burn patterns could still be seen where force energy from the fight had rippled across the chamber, burning out the perma-frost crystals Kage Odjina had used to amplify his own force abilities.  Nearly all of them were gone, either burned out or removed after-the-fact. 

Fortunately "nearly all" was not the same as "all".

There were shards, fragments.  Not enough to channel the force, but more than enough to hold an echo.  A reflection of what was.

A ghost...

Karmack stopped and listened, opening himself to the song, eyes closed in concentration.  He could feel the song shifting, flaring, the intensity of this place pushing and pulling on the melody and harmony of the force...  For a moement he slipped back into the vision from Zearic's crystal...  Darkness ... the song filled with pain ... betrayal ... defeat ... death ...

Karmack felt his body respond to the conflict, adrenaline racing through his veins, his heart rate and resperation rising.  "Calmly, calmly..." he whispered, humming a pastoral motif in the song as he pushed his vitals back to normal...

"Who are you?"

Karmack's eyes snapped open, his saber in his hand and ignited almost of it's own volition.  The spectre before him was also in a combat stance, his own ghostly saber lit.  Karmack recognized the Twi'Lek instantly from both historical records as well as his own vision.  "Kage Odjina..."

The Kage's eyes swept the room, his stance never wavering.  "You know me.  Who are you?  Where are my people?  What happened to Valens?  What is going on here?  He was right here..."  Odjina's eyes clouded as his own memory replayed the battle he had fought and lost here.  "I don't understand..."

His force ghost must be tied to the crystals here... Karmack relaxed his own stance, de-activating his blade and lowering his defenses.  He started humming the calming motif again, infusing the chamber itself with the song this time, calming himself ... the rocks ...

Odjina's ghost.

The song had the desired effect, as did Karmack's change in posture.  The ancient Kage stood down as well, then cocked his head slightly as the song registered.  "Calming motif..."  He looked at Karmack again, and he felt the brush of the force as Odjina examined him closely.  "You are Mak'Tor...  Of the Clan Mack...  You carry the Ancient One..."

Karmack felt his eyes widen slightly as he nodded.  The Kage was still struggling, still confused, but he was no longer primed for battle.  "I am Ka'A'Mack, Meanowan and Master of Song of the Mak'Tor Order, my Kage.  I apologize for my intrusion: of need I have awoken you from your long slumber."

Odjina fixed Karmack with an intense stare.  "Long slumber?  What do you mean?  He was just here, in front of me.  Milaea had fallen here, and ..."  He turned, looked at the crushed dias, then back at a spot near where Karmack stood, then back at the dias again.  "...and I died here..."

Karmack felt anguish and grief suddenly erupt in the force as the realization of his own death rolled through Odjina.  The ghost fell to his knees, fingers touching the depression where his blood had been found, where Valens had broken him.  "Soryu ... Kimar ... Kimar is playing with fire, Master Mack.  We must ... you must get a message to him.  Go to him in person, and warn him: Kimar is playing with fire, and if nothing is done the entire Order may burn."

Karmack felt the intensity of his emotions in the force.  This is a ghost? He shifted to a more intense calming motif, flooding himself and Odjina with peace and calm.  "Sir ... who is Soryu?"

Odjina turned back to Karmack.  "Master Soryu of the Jedi Order?  You don't know him?  He is on the Council with Kimar, Yoda... He is one of the last friends the Mak'Tor have in the Order and he is a man of honor.  He deserves to be warned.  Whatever Kimar is up to..."

Karmack nodded, and for a moment wonder filled him. Soryu was real?  All those theories about composite characters and combining events....  If Master Soryu was a real person, a real Jedi... "I understand, Kage, but..."  Karmack paused.  How do I tell him? With a deep breath he decided that the only way was straight-up.  "Kage Odjina, Kimar is dead. Yoda is dead.  I would have to say If Soryu was real he is long dead..."  Karmack kept his tone soft and gentle.  "You've been ... asleep ... for six hundred years, my Kage."

Odjina blinked as that sank in.  "Six hundred years?  Six hundred..."  he rose, leaned on the ruined dais.  "Soryu ... Yoda ... Kimar ... all dead?"

Karmack nodded.  "Yes.  Yoda only recently, we believe, but Kimar and Soryu have been gone for centuries."

Odjina nodded, slowly coming to grips with the news.  "You're Mak'Tor.  The order survives?"

Karmack smiled.  "We've had our challenges, but by the grace of the Maker we are alive and well."

"And M'Tzigon?  Li'I?"

"M'Tzigon thrives.  Li'I'Mack became Kage after..." Karmack paused.  "Well, after..."

"After my death." Odjina replied, his own emotions starting to settle at last.  He looked around the room.  "Did anyone here...?"

"Only one.  Ha'Ona'Mack was spared by the assassin..."

"Valens." Odjina replied.  "He was brutal.  Amazingly strong.  A meta-human with amazing abilities..."  Odjina fixed Karmack in his gaze, his head cocked to the side.  "Ho'Li's daughter survived.  That explains your song.  She's one of your ancestors, Master Mack."

Again Karmack's found himself blinking in surprise.  "Well, yes, actually...  How did you know?"

Odjina shook his head.  "Master of Song, and you don't know your own song's origin?"  He smiled.  "Listen..."

Karmack concentrated, listening first to the perception motif Odjina sang but then his attention turned to his own song.  He caressed Arnor's interwoven fugue, but then moved past it to his own melody, the very core of his own song in the greater Song that flowed through the force.  Slowly he isolated it, identifying the pieces and parts until...  "Incredible..."

"Your song is clearly descended from Ha'Ona, Master Mack." Odjina said.  "All of the core elements are there." He squinted a moment.  "Though I have to admit some of them are quite a bit stronger..."  Odjina gave Karmack a look of appreciation.  "Quite a bit.  But I suspect you didn't come here to chat about your lineage or catch me up with current events."

"I am afraid not, Kage." Karmack replied.  "There is a disturbance in the force, a rising power that is coming into conflict with the Mak'Tor.  Its nature is ... nebulous.  Elusive.  Its not like the great enemies of the past.  Through our history, darkness has risen and the light has risen with it.  But this..."  Karmack threw his hands up in frustration.  "I cannot tell.  I see horrible images of death and destruction.  A thought bomb tearing the very heart out of the Order, destroying M'Tzigon...  But even as I see the horror I know that it is avoidable.  That the power to destroy could become a power to preserve instead.  A sense that the enemy could be a friend.  Even ... a brother." Karmack shook his head.  "I can't explain it.  I don't understand it.  But the only time I've felt the same conflict was in your battle, here."

"My battle?" Odjina sat again, this time in a lotus. "How so?"

"Your opponents." Karmack replied, crossing and sitting in front of the ghostly master.  "They were immensely powerful.  I've seen some of Four-Ten's data on the younger one, the one Ha'Ona called Milaea.  She was off the charts..."

"Milaea..." Odjina nodded.  "Yes.  She was ... conflicted.  She possessed immense power, and she was utterly afraid of it.  She released it accidentally while training with our own people, badly injured her sparring partner.  She had no wish to harm anyone, the poor girl, but she was apprenticed to Valens, and he was under orders from Kimar."

"Valens ... the assassin?" Karmack leaned in.  "Was he also one of these 'meta-humans'?"

Odjina nodded.  "There is no other explanation.  He was a black hole most of the time, hidden almost completely in the force.  His ability to mask his presence was fascinating, but I was so intent on breaking that mask that I ignored one far more important."  Odjina leaned forward.  "Valens ... was following orders.  Kimar's orders, I believe, but there was some kind of by-play between him and his apprentice as well.  She actually launched the attack.  Valens didn't strike until we sensed the conflict begin between Milaea and the knights she was with.   And he fought, but we were able to hold him off until..."

Odjina paused, the memory again overwhelming him.  A tear trickled down his cheek as he continued.  "Such a sweet girl.  Her decision no doubt tortured her for the rest of her life..." 

"Her decision?" Karmack leaned back, confusion on his face.  "You believe she actually made the decision to attack?"

Odjina nodded.  "Yes, I believe so.  In that, Valens was following her lead.  But when she reached the battle here, she was still conflicted.  I could feel the conflict within her.  She fought with her head, not her heart, and in the end she lost because she wasn't willing to throw herself into the conflict.  She didn't believe in it."

"You killed her?"

"No.  I knocked her out. She was fighting Kimar's battle, not her own.  In the end I could not hold that against her.  Nor did I want to harm Valens. If we could have disabled them, reasoned with them...  Stopping Milaea without killing her gave me hope.  A hope that turned out to be false."  Odjina bowed his head, his eyes wet with tears now.  Sorrow flooded the room as Odjina's grief surfaced again.  "Instead of saving them and us, I only drove Valens to greater efforts.  He killed..."

"He killed everyone." Karmack replied.  "Everyone except Ha'Ona."

"Yes." Odjina raised his head.  "He spared Ha'Ona.  And he spared the song of this place, sent it back to M'Tzigon.  To the Mak'Tor.  To you."

Karmack nodded.  "To me.  And not just the song.  The Ancient One as well.  I believe it is the key."  Karmack laid his saber in his palm, holding it between him.  "I need to unlock its secrets.  Learn to use it fully.  Will you help me?"

Odjina looked at the saber, his ghostly hand touching the smooth surface, then looked up at Karmack.  "You understand ... this power, it comes with a price?  Are you willing to take this journey?"

Karmack nodded.  "Yes.  The price must be paid, or the darkness will fall."

"Very well."  Odjina sat back.  "So, to start, show me what you know.  Sing for me..."

[TheDutchman]

Wow Karm, this was a PROLIFIC chapter!!

Nimmin Cha is one cool customer and, while I'm confident in Arnor's and Talia's skills, Cha is somewhat of a cypher and an unknowable quantity.  Too much to rely upon the usual clandestine ruses... But Maker bless them for trying, brave women.  But I'm also worried that this is somewhat akin to the poem: (to paraphrase) "come into my parlor said the spider to the fly."  I really feel for Talia, having to relive such painful memories that are clearly too fresh for her... Good thing she's got Arnor with her.

Chillum is still one of my favorite characters; I wonder just how much he's keeping "close to the chest" about his suspicions about our resident Aethan girl (I just hope that he doesn't have the Oblivion marble on him at this point...)

I've been waiting on Karm meeting up with Odjina.  Karm, I have to applaud you: this scene was even better than I'd hoped!  And if Karm can absorb all of Odjina's knowledge concerning the Song and previously lost mechanics, this could CERTAINLY help out with Cha, to say nothing about the Aethans... Let's hope that his intel-gathering isn't stopped short, I think I know a couple of people that would benefit from such knowledge...