CHAPTER 20: Vengeance “SO WE have an agreement.” Councilor Belos stated. He was an older man whose head was just entering the first stages of balding. “Good. The Empire thanks you for your… consideration.” Arctis could barely keep her smile back. It was so easy. So easy. “When will the funds be transferred?” Councilor Belos again, the man really did have a passion for money. “As soon as I can contact the Dark Council. You need not worry, Councilor.” The Darth let the smile through here, if only for a moment, to let herself gloat a little in victory. “Is this the right thing to do, Belos? Sell out for money like this?” That was Councilor Todo, one of the vocal opponents of joining the Empire. Belos, though it looked like a flicker of static, nodded outside of the visual, as though signaling a guard. A few moments later, Arctis heard a quick burst of blaster fire and Councilor Todo’s image flickered out. “I believe we are unanimous now. We await only your message to declare our new allegiance. I will see you then, Darth. Good day.” “Good day to you as well, Councilor. And do not worry. You will get your money.” “I hope so, Darth. I hope so.” The images flickered out. Darth Arctis giggled like a little girl. Corellia belonged to the Empire. The door in the side of the room clicked loudly. The lock had been disengaged. Moving over, she slipped through the door like a shadow into the small antechamber beyond. Her apprentice was gone, the soldier with her. Arctis was pleased with that. Vain had been nothing but a liability of late. Perhaps it was time to end her apprenticeship… Arctis stroked the thought, amusing the idea, playing with different scenarios for Vain’s death. For there was no other way a Sith apprenticeship ended but with death. “She’s long gone. Told me to tell you. Back at the place we rented out for your people.” The voice was behind her to her right shoulder. The Darth spun, snarling. The captain, Holmes, was there, a blaster in his hand, a pipe to his lips, laughing to himself at the Darth’s anger. “Hello Commander.” Hissed Arctis. The pipe fizzled out. Giving it a frown, Holmes pulled it out of his mouth and examined the end. It was bitterly cold to the touch. Arctis sneered with black humor. “Really?” The Commander asked, glaring at Arctis. “Be happy with the fact that that is all I am doing.” Threatened the Darth. “You seem awfully happy for someone whose negotiations just went badly.” “Ah, what makes you think that?” Holmes heart sunk. She had said that far too smugly. “What else would they have said?” The Darth simply smiled. “Oh, many things, Captain.” Holmes did not reply. The Sith moved cockily towards the exit elevator. “I win, Captain. I win.” The doors slammed shut behind her. Suddenly, Holmes felt a need to sit down. Blood rushed to his head and he felt… faint. The Sith hadn’t said it explicitly, but he knew. He knew. Corellia was lost. ---------- Light came rushing back in a rush of sensation. Michael took a heavy breath in surprise, feeling waves of pins and needles flooding through his body. But it still smelled like a wet bantha. A quite horrible smell. Still not fully aware, Michael peered through the screen of the kolto tank again, to be greeted indirectly by a familiar face. A very angry face. “Let my man out of there!” John Holmes yelled at the doctor in charge. Even though it was spoken at a yell, Michael could still only barely hear it through the thick glass of the kolto tank. The doctor, who was obviously under duress, was feebly arguing with Holmes, pointing at a set of papers and x-rays nearby, even picking one or two to show. Holmes quickly knocked the papers aside and pointed back at Michael. Attempting to refuse Holmes again, the doctor was slapped in the face. Michael chuckled from inside the tank. The commander had never had problems with corporal punishment. The doctor, still staggering, started yelling and gesturing at his nurses. They began running around the kolto tank, unplugging wires and inputting sequences. Michael felt the kolto begin to drain from around him, rendering the tank slowly empty. The gelatin-like feel fell away from his body, and nerves began to feel actual air. The tank emptied, the nurses opened it up and began attending to Michael, moving him to a nearby cot to recover. The commander strode over, pipe tucked firmly into his mouth, a scowl on his face. “You messed up, kid.” Of course those were his first words to him. “Sorry, sir.” “Don’t apologize. My fault for sending you in unprepared. But that’s in the past now. How’s your loyalty?” Michael looked up in confusion. “Sir?” Maybe the kolto was just dulling his thoughts, but that hadn’t sounded right. “Corellia? Or me? Answer quick, kid.” It had to be a trick question. “You, sir. You’ve had my respect since I joined the force.” “Good. Come with me.” The commander pulled Michael unsteadily to his feet. One of the nurses flinched, and moved to stop them, but Holmes’ withering glare stopped her. Supporting Michael with one of his arms, the pair limped out of the med bay and a distance more until Michael felt able to walk again. Still didn’t smell any better, but, he could walk. And that also meant his mind was working a little better. As they pulled out into Axial Park, just a block or so away from the med center Michael had been moved to after the explosion, Michael stopped by a bench, parking himself down in it. “Can we talk, sir?” Holmes, having not even noticed Michael sitting down, spun in alarm. After giving Michael a very suspicious look, he came over and sat down next to him. “What about?” Staring off into space, Michael took a minute before replying. “I’ll quit Cor-sec for you, sir, but I’d like a reason.” “Who said anything about quitting Cor-sec?” “Please.” Michael shook his head, the dulling effects of the kolto having finally worn off. “The question of my loyalty, your urgency coming down here, your breaking of the standard recovery time for officers. It was obvious. I know what, just not why.” Now it was Holmes’ turn to stare blankly into space. “She’s gone.” “Your wife?” The commander chuckled, “Na, my wife has been gone for years now.” He paused again before responding, “No… I mean Corellia. My child… I’ve tried to keep her safe my entire life. Now… I’ve failed her.” The sun was shining high in the sky. Axial Park sat before them, a sea of green in a forest of buildings. People laughed and played in the park. Taxis sped by; flickers of yellow across their vision. Billboards flashed advertisements. Doomsayers rambled about the Empire. Life went on. A tear ran down John Holmes’ cheek, briefly illuminated by the sun. A golden drop. “I failed.” “What do you mean?” “The Sith. They’ve negotiated a treaty. They’ve… bought Corellia.” “Impossible.” Now Michael felt himself choking up. It couldn’t be. The images seemed a joke now. A cruel ploy. Looking out, where he had just seen sunshine and people and life, his mind played out the truth. The Republic would never just let Corellia leave. The Empire would never just let the Republic take it back. War would break out. People screamed. Bombs went off. Craters appeared. The sea of green was consumed by dots of brown. Taxis littered the streets; flaming messes. Doomsayers led cults, their ideas proven true. The billboards flashed propaganda. Soldiers marched. Blood spilled. Corellia would never be the same. “I thought the same… once.” Holmes’ eyes were closed. “But sometimes credits can sway hearts more than loyalty ever could.” “Loyalty…” Michael repeated. He was loyal to Holmes. To Corellia. But it seemed ironic, almost. How easily he could betray Coran, but how much he praised himself for loyalty. The two just sat there a while more, watching one of Corellia’s last days. Like watching an old dog play with the children, knowing how soon his day will come. Seeing the clock ticking above his head. Seeing the time run out. “So what are we doing, sir?” “Depends. You ready to give up on Corellia?” “Hell no, sir. Hell no. Have a plan?” “You mean, ’Have a plan, sir.’” “Oh, yes, sorry, sir.” “Yes, I do.” There was an awkward silence as Michael turned to look at Holmes expectantly, waiting for the plan. “Sir?” He asked cautiously. “I already hacked the cams, watched the negotiations. It was that damned Councilor Belos who betrayed us. I figure we’ve got two routes. One; getting local support and overturning the decision, turning the people against the Council. Or two, tracking down the Sith and taking them out before they can report success to the Empire. “ “So, the first one?” “Course.” “Any idea how we’ll do that?” “Simple.” Holmes turned to look at Michael, “We get into the Council building, hack the cameras, just like I’ve already done, and copy the footage. Put it on the news, and watch Belos burn.” “So why didn’t you already do it, sir?” Holmes let a loud sigh out through his mouth. “Kid, in my day, we did a lot of slicing and hacking and all of that nonsense. I won’t say we were good, but we got by. Just enough to find proof. We always believed that getting people to talk was more effective.” Michael couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You didn’t know how, sir?” A laugh snuck through. Turning on Michael, Holmes was about to snap at him, but quickly gave up. “That’s right kid.” It was a very defeated tone of voice. “Don’t worry, sir.” Michael jested, “It’s okay to be old.” “Call me old again and I’ll shoot your privates out. With a slug thrower.” Michael gulped, “Understood, sir.” “Good. Now let’s get to work. My girl needs saving.” And with that, Michael mused, the images seemed to fade a little. The light shone through, and, if only just for a moment, he could see the people laughing and playing in the park, the sun shining down, the world at peace. But it was only for a moment.

CHAPTER 19: Reassigned “IS HE OKAY?” Xavier asked Lord Vain as she entered their room. Since the ship had been stolen, Cor-sec had requisitioned a room for their Sith guests to use. Vain had only just gotten back from the Council tower, where Darth Arctis was still in talks with the Corellians. The room was large enough for a party of twelve, which fit well for their smaller party of eight. The squad had already made themselves at home while waiting for the Sith to do their thing. Their job of escorting the Sith had been shot down after the incident with the ship. The Corellians weren’t quite sure what was going on, and it looked like they wanted all of their bases covered. So, the squad had went to the room, and prepared themselves as best they could. While they didn’t think it would actually be attacked, they had fortified the room with reinforced walls, mines, auto-turrets, and everything else, in a very Imperial style fashion. It could all be taken down in under an hour. Vain, who had just arrived with Ardun, found herself swarmed by the squad, who were worried for their captain. Vaughn, the medic, took Ardun from her and over to a cot at the side of the room to begin running tests. The rest of the squad, satisfied that their Captain was safe, turned on Vain. “So…” Xavier began, pulling a chair over and plopping down. “What the hell happened with the ship?” “Not sure.” Vain spoke, distracted, as she grabbed a seat. An image flashed before her eyes, the truth to her lie, bright blue eyes and an impossible foe. “You’re lying.” Jane snapped from her spot at the back of the group, to Xavier’s right. Anger flashed in Vain’s figure, veins showed and muscles tightened. And then they slowly loosened, in what was certainly defeat. “Yes. I am.” She looked up, passively, at Jane, “How’d you know?” “The Corellians found you trying to slice a hole in the blast door with your saber. Obviously you’d had some contact with the thieves beforehand.” “And here I thought it was something I’d said.” Chuckling, Vain closed her eyes; “I’m getting too paranoid for my own good.” “Paranoia is kinda required in your business. Occupational hazard, you could say.” Nicholas laughed from his spot by the door. He was, ironically, the image of paranoia, dressed in almost full armor and sitting behind a heavy turret, sights locked on the door, daring the Pubs to strike. “Yes,” Nodded Vain sagely, giving Nicholas an appraising eye, “Occupational hazard indeed.” The room was quiet for a few moments after that, an unspoken question in the air. Vain refused the break the silence, knowing full well she would have to answer these soldier’s questions eventually, and that they were going to ask her that question. The one people always seemed to come back to. Ardun had, the Correlian had, it seemed everyone but her master had noticed it. Xavier finally broke the silence. “Alright, Vain. We need to talk.” The soldier’s hands all went involuntarily to their weapons. Safeties were flipped, and holsters unbuttoned. They were ready for a fight. Vain almost laughed. The Sith really did have a knack for fear. Occupational hazard indeed. “Talk away.” She said, picking up her lightsaber and giving it to one of the soldiers, Alex, she thought his name was, in a gesture of peace. The soldier took it and moved a few steps away, and before Xavier started talking, Vain could have sworn she saw the soldier start to take it apart. “What happened at the academy?” Vain was taken aback. “Why would you ask that?” From the looks on the soldier’s faces, they had anticipated this response. “Gut feeling.” Xavier lied blatantly; thumb massaging the grip of his sidearm. “You’re lying.” “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re dodging the question.” “Any other question…” Muttered Vain, “Just tell me why, please?” The team turned to look at each other, nodding and shrugging back and forth. Jane in particular was shaking her head slightly, looking pointedly at Xavier. Xavier glared back and turned to Vain. “Alex told us about Ardun’s interest in those files. Figured since you were interested in him, those files were probably the problem. Wasn’t sure, but you just proved it.” Jane shook her head and walked away, an irritated twitch to her stride. Xavier watched her go, and then turned back to Vain, his eyes furrowed. “We’ll discuss this later, maybe when Ardun is back on his feet. For now,” Xavier gestured towards the back of the room. “Showers, coffee, and food back there.” Nodding thanks, Vain stood and moved to the back of the room. There were a thousand and one things going back and forth through her mind; Ardun, the blue-eyed foe, Arctis, the squad’s concern, the Academy, and more. But none of it stuck, one thought kept floating to the top. One word. Shower. ---------- Xavier didn’t like being in charge. He really didn’t like it. Too much power, too many decisions that had to be made, too much weight on his shoulders. And then there was just dealing with the squad. People were a pain to deal with. Especially women. Especially Jane. It had been his idea to confront Vain about the Academy files. It had been his idea to admit to her their source. And everyone had agreed. Except Jane. And now he was going to have to deal with the fallout from that. She had walked off rather unhappily, and, even though Xavier knew he should just let her steam, he felt like he needed to talk to her about it. Not what he was supposed to do when he was in charge, he knew, but still, it needed to be done. Jane was back by her cot, weapon in her lap, cleaning it. Oil and grease was already slick on her fingertips, as she muttered frantically to herself, hands moving up and down the gun easily. He heard only snips and snatches of what she was saying, but it seemed to be something about ‘men’. Alex was on the cot across from Jane, curiously dissecting the lightsaber. He looked up as Xavier came over, and sat up hurriedly, collecting the dismantled pieces. “Words I should not hear.” He spoke softly as he shuffled past Xavier. “Not fun.” Shaking his head, Xavier sighed at Alex’s comment. Sometimes the man didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. It was forgivable, given his conditions. But still annoying. “Why are you here, sir? Shouldn’t you be talking to the Sith?” Jane asked. The tone was incredibly bitter. Not surprising. Women were bitter individuals. “You don’t agree with my approach?” “You’re in charge, sir.” Looking around to make sure no one was paying too much attention, Xavier turned to Jane and threw up his arms in annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to drop the sir?” “Yes… sir.” “Drop it, soldier.” “No, sir.” “Solider, I am in command…” “No, sir” “Soldier…” “Sir.” “Damn it, Jane, please.” “Alright.” She finally looked up from her gun. At first, Xavier thought that was because she had finally decided he was more important than the gun. And then he realized that she had just finished cleaning her weapon. He was still secondary. “Come on. We need to talk.” He looked up and around. “But not here, alright? I’ll meet you outside, on the roof.” “We’re not allowed up there.” Jane protested, brow furrowing as she watched Xavier stand and make for the door. “Five minutes.” He said, leaving the room, to Nicholas’ dismay, and leaving Jane without the last word.

Ah, I see what you meant now. You do have a point, my ideas for the end are, perhaps, not to scale quite yet. But I look at it this way... that with words, there are no limits to what you can do. Besides, if it does prove too difficult, I can study the works of other authors for reference, many of them may have thought of approaches that would work far better than my own. One of your characters, Haytham Kenway, has the exact same name as one of the primary antagonists in Assassin's Creed 3. It's odd because the two even have similar personalities and descriptions, to a point. Funny... guess it is a small world after all.

Haha, thanks. I have been told I'm an interesting person. Though whether the people I'm talking to are serious or just commenting on my bright orange shoes I have yet to tell. Here's hoping its the former. As for the story... I'm hoping to finish it in its entirity, and that could take a while. How far am I planning to take it? Hmm... well, though I'm not sure on what details you're looking for, let me say this. So far I'm only about a fourth of the way done with what I hope will be the final project. Maybe even a third of the way done, depending on certain elements. So, plan on this being a rather long endeavour. At the current rate I'm pumping stuff out, it should conclude towards the middle of summer to the start of fall. But that's tenative, don't quote me on that. Hope that answered your question. If you still can't decide between the two, flip a coin. Always works for me By the way, thought I'd mention; I like the way your fic is going. The allusion to Assassin's Creed 3 made me chuckle, and I'm liking that paticular character even more than the one in the game. Nice writing.

CHAPTER 18: Eyes Wide Open NATALYA WOKE with a splitting headache and the taste of blood in her mouth. Her body was leaden with exhaustion. But, strangely, she was not cold. If anything, she was warm. Really warm. Picking herself up, she examined her surroundings. She was in a small cave, lit only from the glow of the crystals around her. But these crystals were not grey and dark like the ones before. These were bright pastels, extraordinary colors. Reds, blues, greens, purples, whites, browns, the room was illuminated by thousands of different shades of thousands of different colors. Natalya was on a thick woolen blanket, spread out like a bed on the ground. A similar setup was on the other side of the room. “Hmm…” Natalya muttered, eyes focused on the second setup. There was another person here, there had to be. Why else would there be a second bed? Pulling her body to its feet, Natalya stumbled slightly. Her legs still felt weak, and her head swam slightly as she wavered back and forth; a swaying body. “Careful there, your body hasn’t fully recovered.” A voice said from behind Natalya. Natalya screamed in response. Sprinting across the floor, she spun around and tried to send a wave of Force energy at the intruder, who was dressed in a plain brown robe, the hood up. But she couldn’t, the Force refused to listen to her. “Work!” She shouted hysterically at her hand, feeling tears coming down her face. She was going to die; this man was going to kill her. “What are you doing?” The man asked, not at all disturbed by the recent turn of events. “Shut up!” Natalya shouted, pushing her hands out towards the man, a vain attempt to use the Force once more. “Calm down.” The man spoke, quietly, softly. He began taking steps towards Natalya. “I’m not here to hurt you. I saved your life, don’t you remember?” Natalya scrambled away from the man until she was pinned in one of the corners, nowhere to run. “Oh, by the Force, you’re persistent, aren’t you? I’m here to help you, blasted woman.” The man groaned, putting his hands on his hips in exasperation. “Is this how you treat people who try to help you?” “Just leave me alone!” Shouted Natalya, shoving her head inside her robe, hoping it would all just go away. “Okay.” The man replied, putting his hands up in defeat. He turned around and went back to the twin beds. Pulling some tools out of his robe, he went about making a fire. Despite herself, Natalya watched him curiously. She’d never met anyone outside of the Master’s Order before. She was scared as hell, but there was a morbid sense of curiosity there too. Eventually the man got a fire started. He sat on the opposite side of it from Natalya, so he could keep an eye on her, and to leave a spot open if she wanted to join him. He took off his hood, and Natalya finally got a good look at his face. He was old. He hadn’t sounded old, but he was. He was human, with receding black hair and wrinkles around his eyes and lips. He must have smiled a lot when he was younger. His eyes were a stark green, and he only had one ear. Though from her angle, Natalya couldn’t quite tell what had happened to the other ear, she was fairly certain that there was only one. She was so busy examining this man’s face, she didn’t notice the food he had been cooking until she smelt it. Stew. Her stomach roiled and groaned as she smelt the decadent flavor, and it was all she could do to keep herself still. After a few minutes of cooking, the man grabbed a bowl and served himself some of the food, pouring out the stew in a slow deliberate motion. Staring straight at Natalya, he licked his lips, slowly and steadily, before digging in. Natalya couldn’t take it. She stood up, and began to slowly walk over to the fire. On her way, she grabbed a particularly long icicle and held it before her in a threatening manner. The man cocked one long grayish black eyebrow at that. “Are you going to skewer me and cook me up? Is that it?” Ignoring him Natalya sat down next to the fire, enjoying the warmth, and pointed the icicle across the fire at the man. “Give me some of that.” She said slowly, trying to use her most threatening voice, like Goll always sounded when he talked. “Or I will kill you with this.” The man smiled broadly. “With what?” Natalya frowned at the man, “With this!” She shouted, brandishing her icicle. The weight seemed… less somehow. That was when she looked at her icicle. It had melted into a small stub. Perhaps putting the icicle over the fire hadn’t been the best idea. Natalya got back to her feet and began retreating slowly. The man rolled his eyes and quickly pulled out another bowl. Natalya stopped, her eyes on the bowl. Moving decisively, the man filled the bowl to the brim and pulled out a spoon. Reaching around the fire, he set both items right next to each other in Natalya’s spot. Then he resumed eating. Over the course of the next few minutes, Natalya moved slowly to the stew, before finally, after around eight minutes, she reached it. Abandoning her caution, she sat and dug into the stew. The man, having finished his stew, stopped to watch her eat. She was ravenous, and gulped down the soup like it was her only meal for weeks. With a minute of two, she was done. Eying her up, the man finally spoke, “Want some more?” he asked, keeping a cautious eye on her. Natalya nodded vigorously and handed him her bowl. He filled it back up and she gulped it right down. She had three helping before she was finally done. Setting the bowl on the ground, she looked across the fire and found the man staring at her. “Ready to talk?” The man asked, tired. Natalya looked away. She couldn’t answer this man, he could be dangerous! But then why would he have helped her, fed her, given her shelter? This argument went back and forth for several minutes inside Natalya’s head before she finally decided to speak. “Sure.” She said, deciding on brevity. “So, what’s your name?” “Natalya.” “Is that it?” “Yes…” Natalya wasn’t sure what he meant. “No family name?” “Family name?” The man stared at her, his expression that of complete confusion. “Never mind,” he spoke slowly, his expression never changing, “Let’s move on. I asked you a question, now it’s your turn.” Natalya hesitated; this was nothing like the compound. When you talked with the elders at the compound, they asked the questions and all you did was respond. There was no back and forth. But, strangely, she liked this new way. She liked the power it gave her. “What’s your name?” She asked, going for the obvious question, since she was not quite sure what she wanted to know about this man. “Darren Lewis.” He paused, letting his name sink in, before asking his question. “What are you doing on Illum?” “Um…” Natalya muttered. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted to say to that. “Training exercise?” She had phrased it as a question, but Darren took it as an answer. “What are you doing here?” She snapped back, unable to think of a new question. “Study.” He replied, keeping his answer as short as hers, “Who sent you on the training exercise?” “My master. What are you studying?” “The Force, life, morality, it’s really more of an introspection on my life. Where is you master?” “I don’t know. You can use the Force?” Darren chuckled, “I’d hope so. Wouldn’t be much of a Jedi if I couldn’t use the Force. What about you? I saw you use the Force, but, just a minute ago, you seemed at a loss to even push me a few feet away, yet you nearly destroyed the cave I found you in.” “I don’t know what you’re asking.” Darren sighed. “Natalya, I just want to know the truth. If you keep hiding things from me, I’m not sure I can let you stay here.” “Then I’ll leave.” With that, Natalya stood and made for the exit. “You sure?” Darren asked, turning to face her. “Absolutely.” And Natalya left the small cave, leaving Darren alone. A thousand and one thoughts spun through his mind. Where was her coat, her gear, her weapons? Where was she going to stay, what was she doing out here? “You’re going to let her leave?” “Of course not.” Darren said, not disturbed by the bodiless voice. “But I should know what I’m getting into first.” “You didn’t with me.” Darren smiled, “No, no I didn’t. But I was younger then. And you were my love. She… she is a lost soul.” “So help her.” “I tried, didn’t you see? She wanted to leave.” “Yes, you weren’t pushy with your questions at all. Couldn't have been that that scared her off, could it have?” Sarcasm seemed to drip from thin air. “Always have to have the last word, don’t you?” “Of course.” “Fine, I’ll be back.” And, with that, Darren left the cave after Natalya.

I feel I must apologize. It's not a big thing, but I feel I should apologize nonetheless, more so for being stupid enough to make this paticular mistake in the first place. So I was surfing the forums the other day, and I came across a thread about the Dark Council. Naturally, I was interested, I have included one in my little fan-fic, Darth Arctis, and I wanted to see if she was there. She was, course, I did my research... fairly well. It links to a Wookiepedia reference, so I check it out. Sadly in SW:TOR's current timeline she's dead. Not a big deal, I mean, I was going to write her out soon enough anyway; too much of a stereotypical Sith by my count. I'm about to exit out of the webpage when one word pops out at me. "male" Whoops. Darth Arctis is a guy. My bad... So, as I said, not a big deal. I mean, explains why Arctis was always annoying to write, he was pissed I'd gotten his gender wrong. I don't blame him, I'd be annoyed too. So, anyway, not a big deal, but I felt I should apologize nonetheless. Sorry

CHAPTER 17: Hyperspace “HE’S AWAKE,” Alia shouted to Kaarn, who was busy trying to fix the damage their ship had suffered during their escape from Corellia. She left the rest of her statement, the resigned "again" out. “How long was I out?” Coran muttered, sliding out of the large bed Alia had put him in. Everything hurt. His lungs burned, his muscles ached. He’d felt as though he’d run a marathon and back. “Only a few hours.” Alia said, sitting Coran back down on the bed and picking up a med kit from the ground. “Now, hold still, I need to run some tests.” “I’m fine,” Coran protested weakly, trying to push Alia’s hands away. “They why can’t you even push me away?” “Tired?” Coran suggested, looking hopefully up at Alia. “Uh-uh, I’m running my tests. Not sit still or I’ll have to run them again. “ Giving in, Coran kept his body still as Alia ran several tests with the med kit, checking Coran’s physical health. A minute or so in, Kaarn showed up, covered in grease with a small manual in hand. “Doesn’t make sense…” He muttered, turning the manual upside down as if that would help him understand it. “What doesn’t?” Coran asked, getting a warning glare from Alia. “No talking either.” “C’mon!” “No talking!” Brooding, Coran shut him mouth. Kaarn, who was laughing hysterically in the corner of the room, decided to humor Coran. “It’s this ship manual. It used to be a new copy, with details and instructions on how to do all these minor fixes, but someone’s scrawled all over it. It was probably this ship’s engineer, which is good, because his notes will be more accurate, But….” Kaarn drifted off again, staring at the manual as if it would magically tell him the answer. “But what?” Alia asked, anticipating Coran’s question. Smiling thankfully, Coran sat, quietly. “But he wrote them in Huttese…” “You’re kidding me, right?” Alia asked, turning in disbelief to Kaarn. “Na, take a look.” Kaarn said, offering the manual to Alia. “No, no,” She protested, “I believe you.” She paused for a moment as she finished running the tests on Coran, frowned at the results, and then addressed Kaarn again. “Did you run it through the holo-net? Try to get a translation?” Kaarn was shaking his head before she even finished talking. “I did, but it has to be some odd dialect of Huttese. All the translations I got were gibberish. Nonsense about lights and greys and a giant web.” Coran looked up curiously when Kaarn said this, but quickly disregarded it. He still wasn’t sure his dream hadn’t been a hallucination. “Well,” Alia said, turning back to Coran, “This is weird.” “The results? Or the Huttese?” Coran asked, standing back up on shaky legs. “The results…” Trailed Alia, walking over to Kaarn and showing him the data pad. “Hmm…” Kaarn muttered, giving the data pad a concerned look. “You’re right. That is weird.” “Ahem!” Shouted Coran, trying to get some attention, “Do I get to hear what’s wrong with me?” “Nothing’s wrong.” Alia spoke, shaking her head. “The readings just don’t make any sense.” Handing the data pad to Coran, she grabbed a seat on the bed. The data pad, having recorded the test results from the med kit Alia had been using earlier, showed several graphs up on the screen. There were heart monitors, blood pressure, cholesterol levels, etc., anything a medical officer would need. It even showed a graph of recent physical strain put on the body, for use in accidents where the victim was unconscious. That was where Coran noticed the oddity. The med kit reported high levels of stress over the past two hours. When Coran had been out cold. Not just that, but it also reported an improbable amount of brain waves coming from Coran during that two hour period. There is a certain level of activity the brain cannot surpass, but the med kit was reporting incredibly, impossibly high readings. Almost as if there had been two people in Coran’s head. “… odd… “Coran said, stuttering lightly. “You’re an awful liar.” Alia s*****red, smiling at Coran. “You know why it’s reading that way, don’t you?” “It’s not important.” “Oh, lord,” Alia cried, rolling her eyes and throwing up her hands, “Must you refuse to let us help you every time we try?” “Maybe you should stop trying!” Looking back and forth between Coran and Alia, who were now staring each other down, Kaarn decided to leave them to it. “I’m going to go run some more translations…” He then rushed out of the room. “You know I’ll never stop trying, don’t you?” Asked Alia, running hands through tousled hair and sitting down, her exhaustion showing. “When was the last time you rested?” Coran asked, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes. “Not since before the heist… I was busy keeping an eye on you.” Smiling, Coran sat down on the bed with her, “You were worried.” “Oh don’t mock me. We were just angry at each other a second ago, and now you’re flirting with me?” Alia started laughing, “You really need to work on-“ “Alia…” Coran said, cutting her off. Turning to him, the smile fading from her face, Alia gave him an odd look. Almost a longing look. “Yea, what?” “Can we stop fighting for a second?” “We weren’t fighting.” “Alia…” “Alright.” The two sat there, in silence, the only sounds the faint rocking of the ship and the occasional clank from the engineering section. "Just tell me what's wrong." Coran asked of Alia, wanting a serious answer. “Why do you keep cutting us off?” Alia asked, quietly. She gave Coran a look of such sadness, he felt guilty looking away. “Because… at the end of the day… it’s just me.” It was the truth, at least to Coran. That was when Alia promptly punched Coran. “Don’t be an idiot.” She pulled out a small chrono from her pocket and started flipping through planets. Eventually she found one; Draethos, and showed the chrono to Coran. It read; 00:01 “The end of the day.” Alia said, putting her chrono away, “And guess what? I’m still here.” Coran couldn’t help but smile. “That doesn’t count.” “Then what does?” An echo, a memory, flickered through Coran’s head. To save her, you must abandon her. “I’m going to go help Kaarn.” Standing up, Coran made for the door. “What the hell? Don’t just blow me off!” Snapped Alia, moving after Coran. But he closed the door before she got through it. Snarling in frustration, Alia went back down to the bed. She could have just opened the door, easy as that, but, for some reason, that didn’t appeal to her. She was a little too frustrated with Coran to go talk to him. So she took her fury out on the pillow instead. The poor, poor pillow. ---------- Striding down the hall of the ship, towards the left side, where they had taken the most damage, Coran’s mind wandered. To save her, you must abandon her. He couldn’t get those words out of his head. They were a mind-numbing plague, a curse, a- To save her, you must abandon her. “Shut up…” He muttered mildly to himself as he finally reached his destination. Covered in a fine layer of dust, his hair greasy in spots, Kaarn turned to face Coran, a pair of large bug-eyed goggles on his face. “Oh, no!” Kaarn said quickly, backing into the wall. “Don’t bring me into this! Go back and deal with Alia!” “How’d you-?” Began Coran incredulously, giving his furry friend an odd look. “Why else would you be here?” Kaarn cut him off, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It was either you two started making out on the bed or one of you showed up over here after a fight.” “We can’t be-“ Coran began, before he was again cut off. “Yes…” Kaarn said, putting his goggled head in his hands, “Yes, you guys are really that predictable.” “Got’cha.” Muttered Coran, turning back out the door from whence he came. “What are you doing?” Asked Kaarn, who was giving Coran an odd look, similar to the one Coran had given him a few moments ago. “Leaving…” Coran said slowly, wondering what Kaarn didn’t understand. “Why? Just because I complain about your problems doesn’t mean I won’t listen. Sit. Tell! We Bothans love a good gossip.” “And who are you going to gossip about this to?” Coran asked, grabbing a seat next to Kaarn. “Oh, no one,” Kaarn waved the point away, “It’s the idea behind it, really. So, spill, what’s up?” “You sure you want to know?” Kaarn gave him a look, “I’ll stab you with this.” He said seriously, holding up a hydrospanner. Smiling in spite of himself, Coran gave in. “Fine, fine…” He sighed lightly, “How do I begin?” “Well, start from the beginning. Don’t leave out anything, even stuff I already know. Ok?” “Ok then. If I remember right, it was a storm three years ago; and we’d just exfiltrated from one of the outlying banks in the area...” “Yea. You’re right. That’s when we first saw her. Alia.”

CHAPTER 16: Recoil MICHAEL WOKE to the blue atmosphere of a kolto tank. It felt awful. It was like being engulfed in gelatin that smelt like a wet bantha. Very unpleasant. But, at least he couldn’t feel the screeching pain from his injuries. Both legs had broken under the weight of the Trandoshan, Gurkgren. Burn marks pock marketing his body from the splash of the blaster volleys sent at Gurkgren. A blaster wound existed deep in his left arm from where a scared officer had missed. Finally, to add insult to injury, or, to be more exact, injury to insult, there were three deep scars crossing his face, leaving deep red canyons in the geography. Those, even with the numbing properties of the kolto, still hurt. Michael tried to look outside the glass, see what was going on. He saw people rushing about, nurses checking desperately the screens nearest to Michael. He heard the faint sound of an alarm? No, not an alarm. A warning? “Doctor!” He barely heard one of the nurses yell. ”His pulse is going too high! He’s going into shock!” Shaking his head, Michael tried to hit the glass, to try and tell them he was alright. All that the staff heard was frantic gurgling and bubbling. “Give him a sedative, and a more powerful one this time. He is going to need at least a week to recover.” A week? Michael thought dully, as the sedatives kicked in. But he couldn’t do that. He still had a job to finish. ---------- “This was inexcusable.” Darth Arctis spoke, staring out the topmost window of a small waiting chamber just before the Correllian Council’s place of meeting. The Commander, John Holmes, had gone inside to speak with the Council before letting the Darth in to make her speech. “I understand, master,” Vain spoke, quietly, as she kneeled over Vain, checking his pulse and the state of the, although minor, healing trance she’d put him under. As he was not Force-sensitive, the trance would act only as an accelerant for the body’s natural healing properties, nothing more. “You very well may have screwed up the most important task you have ever been assigned.” “What? Guard duty?” The sarcasm was more than evident. It was angry, bitter. The Darth spun on Vain, eyes blazing, and Vain could tell how close she was to snapping. “Thank your gods that we are surrounded by enemies, else I would cut you down for a statement like that.” Smiling to herself, Vain enjoyed her moment of power. “Don’t make threats, master, that you cannot keep.” “And you would do well not to make enemies you cannot handle.” The two women stood, facing one another, hands on their saber hilts, when Holmes came back through the door, smoking a large pipe. “Whoa there,” He said, hand going to his gun. “No fights, ladies. As much as I’d love to see you two spill each other’s guts, you’d leave a stain.” The two women, not appreciating the interruption, glared pointedly at Holmes. “Stay out of matters that do not concern you.” Arctis breathed, and Holmes could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped several degrees. “Master, don’t you have a job to do?” Vain spat angrily, turning back to the prone form of Ardun. “Do not dare tell me what to do!” Arctis snapped, her voice a roar. From peepholes in the ceiling and machinery in the lamps, several fully automatic machine guns whirred to life. No rounds were fired, but the implication was easy to interpret. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Holmes said, easily, arrogantly. “We’ve… prepared for your visit, you see. Now, if you don’t mind, the Council does not like to be kept waiting.” The Darth bared her teeth and passed by Holmes into the antechamber beyond him, whispering in his ear as she passed, “You will regret not treating me with respect.” “I’m sure I will.” Holmes muttered, closing the door behind Arctis, leaving her to her deliberations with the Correllian Council. Locking the door with a few brief clicks, Holmes then closed the secondary door, sealing the Sith in the room. Corellians weren’t stupid. None of the Council was actually in the building. The Sith was sealed in an airtight room bristling with weapons, with only a few holotrancievers so the Council could speak to her. Holmes still thought this was a bad idea. He knew the Council was just hoping to work this to their own benefit and had no intentions of actually joining the Empire… but…. It still didn’t sit well with Holmes. The men and woman on the Council were not superb human beings. They were corrupt, evil, and backstabbing. That was politics, you got used to it. But there was always that chance, however slim, that they might decide that the Empire could offer them more. That the grass was greener on the other side. That was what scared Holmes. A groan came from the other side of the room. Turning, Holmes saw the other Sith, the apprentice, kneeling over one of the soldiers, green vapor passing between them like a poisonous fog. The man, the soldier, it seemed, had just woken up. “Hey,” Holmes said, moving over to them, gun drawn, “Does he need a med center?” Holmes could care less about what happened to Sith and Jedi, they usually deserved what came from him, but that man… that man was a soldier, and he deserved respect for that. Soldiers were soldiers, no matter what side of the conflict. “No,” Vain said quietly, personality muted, “His injuries are mostly healed.” “You sure about that, Sithy?” Holmes asked, cautiously stepping back and aiming his pistol, just in case. “Put your pistol away, I’ve had enough fighting for one day.” She sounded tired, exhausted. Depressed. Slipping his pistol back in its holster, Holmes kneeled down on the other side of the soldier, looking curiously at the Sith. “A Sithy who doesn’t want to fight? Didn’t know they existed.” “You know,” Vain said, staring down at the soldier, Ardun, “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” “So,” Holmes asked, gesturing at Ardun, “What’s his story? Never heard of Sith healing their wounded.” “It’s a rare technique. Most Sith never learn it. Those who do never use it on anyone but themselves.” “Still doesn’t explain why you helped him.” “I… I’m not sure why I helped him.” “You sure? The way you’re looking at him, I could guess.” Head snapping up, Vain glared at Holmes. “That’s better,” Holmes said, smiling smugly, “Anger on a Sith is so much easier to deal with than remorse.” “Don’t change the subject. What did you mean, you could guess?” “Really?” Holmes gave a sharp bark of laughter. “I saw the security footage. That man stopped you from slaughtering my officers. And you didn’t kill him. He must mean a hell of a lot to you for you to forgive that.” “Do not assume!” Vain shouted, standing up. “He simply has information I require.” “Then why haven’t you tortured him?” “I don’t-“ “Know? Yea, you do know, you just don’t want to admit it.” “I don’t know what you mean.” “Yes you do.” Smiling broadly, Holmes sat down in one of the room’s lush chairs. “Not much of a Sith, are you?” “So you keep saying.” “Admit it. You have feeling for that man.” “His name is Ardun.” Holmes let out a loud chuckle. “Yea, because Sith always use their subordinate's names.” Sighing, Vain sat down across the room from Holmes, Ardun lying on the ground between them. “I don’t understand it. I barely even know him.” “Life’s funny like that.” “You know much about this?” “Had a wife. Had a kid. Yea, I know a bit.” Holmes looked down as he said this, breath catching in his throat. “Divorce?” “No.” Looking back up, Holmes met Vain’s eye. All she could see was depths of hatred. “They were killed. My wife, Cynthia, died in childbirth. Don’t even know how long ago anymore. Days just seem to blur together. I fell apart. My son left me, became a spacer. He came back to Corellia about thirty years ago. Then he was murdered. I never…” Holmes choked up a little bit. “I never said sorry.” “I’m sorry…” Vain said, quietly, looking back down at Ardun. “It seems the war has done that to a lot of people.” “Well.” Holmes said, the word almost a question, “What about you, what’s your story?” For a heartbeat, Vain felt a vein of anger. Her training on Korriban came back, and she felt a sudden impulse to kill Holmes. But she suppressed it. Holmes deserved an answer. “Don’t know where I came from. Don’t know who my parents were.” “Are,” Holmes corrected, grinning lightly at Vain, his aged face humored. Vain couldn’t smile back. “Hope won’t help.” “When you’ve lived as long as I have,” Holmes spoke, pulling back out his pipe and taking a whiff. “You’ll find that isn’t true. But, please, continue.” Nodding, Vain continued. “As I said, I don’t remember anything of my childhood. My first memories were the Academy. Blood… violence… anger… hate. That was all I knew. I had my first kill at six years old. He was a human. A nice boy. I liked him.” “They mean business, those Sith. That sounds like hell.” “It was…” Vain bowed her head lost in memories. There were many words to describe what she felt, but there was only one that truly described it; red. “I couldn’t take it… I tried to run away. And… I… I figured things out.” Vain stumbled over that phrase, as though she wasn’t sure what to say. Holmes had seen it before; she was lying. But, he decided not to call her on it. Getting a Sith to reveal this much was impressive, he didn’t want to push his luck. “What do you mean, figured things out?” “I learned… uh….” Vain was still hesitant, “Force techniques.” “Ok…” Holmes said, backing off. “Yea… it changed me. Hate didn’t come as easily, and, as you know, hate is crucial to the Sith.” “So I’ve heard.” “I managed to trick and deceive my way to the top of my class, and Arctis chose me as her apprentice. That’s how I ended up here.” “But that doesn’t explain that heart of gold you’ve got.” It was a question and a fact, all in one. Holmes’ detective brain was working, playing for time and trying to find fit pieces of the puzzle together. “I think,” Vain began, standing up from her chair. “I should take Ardun back to the rest of the squad. I have no wish to be here when Arctis returns.” She lifted Ardun up with a quick gesture and moved towards the elevator. “I’ll tell her,” Holmes said, following her to the elevator. “It was good talking with you. Nice to know there’s some good on the other side.” “But will that thought ever stay your hand? When the war truly breaks out?” Vain asked, and, in retrospect, Holmes realized that she was asking a very different question. Should I kill someone who’s good? “Yes.” Holmes said, putting a hand on Vain’s shoulder. Vain didn’t even flinch. She respected Holmes. “Because, when it comes down to it, sparing a life is always the right thing to do.” Simply nodding, Vain was about to respond when the elevator door shut between them, sending Vain down to the bottom floor. “Good luck, Sithy.” Holmes muttered, still staring at the doors. “Here’s to you.” And with that, Holmes took a puff of his pipe and sat down to wait for the Council to be done.

CHAPTER 15: Illum “WE’RE HERE,” Goll communicated, mentally, through the small hawk-like Mantis. Natalya, who was in the lower quarters, woke as the mental wave hit her. “Uck…” Natalya groaned, straightening up in her altogether uncomfortable bed. They’d been in transit for several days now. Goll hadn’t spoken, or thought, a word to her since they boarded. He had let Natalya in peace to think over what had happened before they had left. What had happened to Katie. How Natalya had killed her. She knew what Goll wanted her to feel. Release. Purification. Clean. Fresh. But she felt exactly the opposite. Her hands felt like there was a permanent stain on them. Every time she tried to sleep she could only see Katie’s figure, a perverted form, a twisted body hung in the air. She would wake back up and spend hours just sitting there. Worst of all, Natalya couldn’t touch the Force. Well, she could, but, again, not really. She could still feel the Force, the everyday waves and eddies that flowed through it. But she couldn’t manipulate it. Not without hearing the snap of Katie’s neck. The clear crisp sound would snap not only Katie’s neck, but Natalya’s concentration. The mental ripple came again from Goll, and Natalya pulled herself out of bed. Dressing herself and collecting her thoughts, she moved up to the top level of the ship, where Goll sat in meditation. The controls for the ship moved on their own, controlled by impulses from Goll’s mind. “We will land in a few minutes, prepare yourself. I have been told the cold is rather bracing.” Natalya didn’t answer. There was no need. “Sit, apprentice. There are things I must discuss with you before we land.” Natalya didn’t sit, but turned to look at Goll’s motionless form. A jerk of Force energy threw Natalya into a nearby chair. “Isn’t that better?” Again, Natalya didn’t speak. Her anger had laid dormant for days, but now, so close to Goll, the man who’d forced her to kill Katie, she felt hate welling up in her gut. She could barely look at Goll without imagining his head, his body, twisted and broken. “I will make this quick, apprentice. I believe in self-taught exercises, so I will give you as little instruction as possible.” Goll still hadn’t moved, and the notion had reality had been gone for so long that Natalya couldn't tell if Goll was speaking, or just projecting his thoughts. “When we land on the surface, I will drop you off at a specific set of coordinates with a holocom and your bags. You will set up your own camp nearby and live off the land. This will be a test to see if the Force wishes you to live. For only with the help and guidance of the Force will you survive here. I will, occasionally, call you to give you your next task. That is how it will work here. I wish you luck, my apprentice.” Natalya hadn't realized it, but, looking out the view pane, she saw the harsh ice covered world of Illum rushing up to meet her. It was white. Covered in… snow? Natalya had never seen snow before, not with her own eyes. The ship landed. “I will see you soon, apprentice.” Goll had spoken as he watched Natalya leave. Then he had left. The first thing Natalya noticed was the wind. The cold wasn’t bad, it would seep in over time, but it wasn’t bad. But the wind… that cut into her. Dropping her bags on the snow covered ground, Natalya looked slowly around. “Well,” she muttered, “Home sweet home.” Then she started walking. ---------- The snow offered quiet. Quiet offered time. For contemplation. The monotony of Natalya’s march helped. She wasn’t sure what she thought about as she walked for hours. At one point it was anger, another point it was thanks. Her emotions were all over the place, her inner serenity she would use to use to escape from the calamities of day-to-day life had been shattered when she had killed Katie. Katie. Her mind went there too. Back to the compound on Draethos, even. The hot summer days. The years of training. The soft bed she’d go back to every night. Soft. Warm. Natalya had to shake her head to keep herself awake, to keep herself focused. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, what she was waiting for. All she knew was that she had to keep walking. But how did she know? How did she know anything at all? How could someone think in the cold? “The Force…” Natalya mumbled through cold lips. That was where her feeling came from. The Force was guiding her. That thought kept her going until she found the cave. Hours after being dropped on the planet, bundled in layers of clothes frozen by Illum’s constant blizzards, and half-dead from walking, Natalya had found the cave. It was half covered in a snow-drift and looked as though it was nearly a straight drop down, but it promised warmth and shelter. Natalya dropped down into the cave. There was about a five or six foot drop down, but nothing too bad. The cave itself was huge. A vast chamber, it didn’t have any connecting passages, but it was a very large, very substantial, room. The celling was about eight or nine feet high, though how that worked given the six foot drop Natalya had gone through to come into the chamber she wasn’t sure. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the chamber, she began to make out details. She saw the standard stalagmites and stalactites stretching up and down in the chamber like teeth. There were beds of crystals, for which Illum was known for, crisscrossing the room, but, for some odd reason, their light had died out. “Odd…” Natalya muttered, reaching out with a feeble tendril of the Force. Even though her connection was weak, pathetically so, she still had to withdraw the tendril when she felt the massive darkness the cave held. The Force was dark here, very dark. Natalya had only been unable to sense it because of her loose connection to the Force. Something awful had happened here. Someone dark had lived here. That was when Natalya saw the bones. Pearly white, shimmering like stars, they were half coated in ice in one corner of the room. They were picked completely clean. One of the bones, not yet covered in ice, still had meat on it. Fresh meat. A loud thump shook the ground tremendously around Natalya, knocking her to the ground. “RAARGH” A great white wampa cried, very angry at the intruder, having just come back to its den. Natalya, reflexively, threw a Force wave towards the creature; it barely staggered the wampa, serving more to anger it further than to help anything. Scampering to her feet, Natalya ran to the other side of the room, choosing to flee. The wampa, although its foot speed was slow, caught up to Natalya in a matter of moments, its long stride out pacing Natalya’s. With a powerful swipe, Natalya was flung against the far wall. She slammed into it hard, cracking the ice and just barely managing to stay conscious. Stars spinning in front of her eyes, Natalya coughed riotously, trying desperately to catch her breath. Through flickering vision, she saw the wampa racing towards her, anger in its eyes. Natalya sunk herself into the Force. Her wounds grew less painful and she could breathe again. But all she could see was Katie. The broken body. The twisted neck. The lifeless eyes. “NO!” Natalya shouted, letting the waves of the Force engulf her, sinking deeply into the ocean. Trying to escape. Waves of Force energy spun off of her, shattering the wampa’s charge and knocking the great creature back several paces. Roaring in frustration, the wampa tried to fight its way back up to Natalya, but the energy rolling off of her kept it back. Meanwhile, Natalya was still fighting herself. Her own guilt. The deeper she went into the Force, the more vivid the images were. She could smell Katie’s distinctive perfume, a peachy scent she would create from a flower. She could see each individual hair on her head, the blonde color left to grow naturally. She could see the lone droplet of blood running down the neck, the only indication of her injuries. It was too much. With a tremendous rush of energy that sent spider webs of cracks up and down the walls of the cave, Natalya fell down onto the ground. Her connection to the Force had shattered, leaving her tired and worn. Through half-closed eyes Natalya saw the wampa move in on her. It was a giant shadow obscuring the light. Resigned to her fate, Natalya didn’t resist as the wampa laid one razor sharp talon on her neck, tracing the jugular down. Tired as she was, she noticed this odd behavior. Wild animals didn’t savor their kills. Barely aware, she heard, as though from a great distance, the crackle, the buzz, the hum of some device. A lightsaber? The shadow, the wampa, disappeared, moving away. Her vision was nearly gone, she was on the verge of passing out. But, still, Natalya saw the lone figure, a beam of light in its hand, driving out the shadow. Goll, she thought. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she was not to know that the figure was not Goll. It was a Jedi.

From start of Republic quest chain on Tatooine. Agent Fowler: "Camus! You know how I feel about corpses in my workspace!"

CHAPTER 14: Dreams CORAN WAS back in their hideout. It was the same dream state from before, except his teammates were no longer appearing from thin air. Yet. “Well, least I’m not dead,” Coran muttered to himself, trying to put the pieces together. Last he remembered, he had sat down behind the controls of the ship on some wild instinct. His mind had been yelling at him to stop, that he had no idea how to fly a ship, and then, it had all gone blank. That was when he’d come back here. Again. He’d tried yelling and kicking and screaming. He’d even found his spare blaster he’d always kept under his bed and shot up the room. But, no matter what he did, as soon as he turned away for even a second it would all fix itself. It was starting to get annoying. Suddenly, inexplicably, the room shook back and forth violently, as if a ground quake was happening. It lasted only a few seconds before stopping rather suddenly. “What the-“ Coran began, but he didn’t get very far before a loud, otherworldly voice cut him off. “You are a fool.” It echoed, the sound reverberating around the small, enclosed space. Not responding, Coran drew his weapon and began to check the room, searching for the source of the sound. The voice, unperturbed, continued to speak to him. “I should not have had to intervene, yet I did. Your plan failed to succeed. If this continues, I may require a new host.” Giving up his attempt to hunt down the voice, Coran sent several rounds into the ceiling, hoping to at least disturb whomever was talking to him. “Your weapon does nothing, fool. Perhaps you are even less intelligent than I thought you were.” “Who are you?” Coran finally snapped, sending another volley of bolts into the ceiling. “Ah,” The voice said, finally sounding pleased, “Finally, an intelligent question.” With a trickle, like sand through a sieve, a figure appeared behind Coran. It had glowing skin that breathed a soft blue smoke, and wore a tan robe, similar to that of the Jedi Order. It appeared in the shape of a human, but every time Coran tried to look him in the face, all he saw was a conglomerate of thousands of different faces and expressions from thousands of different people. “I,” It said, having a body at last, “Am the essence, the idea, the force that is Balance.” “So what?” Coran asked, giving the “spirit” a skeptical look. “So what?” The spirit mocked, sounding insulted, “I am Balance, I am the difference between the light and the dark. I am the force that evens the world. I am an attribute of the almighty Force! I am perhaps one of the most powerful beings you will ever meet!” The spirit sounded very proud of itself at this, puffing itself up in a huff of anger. Coran swore it grew several inches. Coran shook his head lightly, still very confused. “And what does that mean? Why are you here? Just explain this all to me!” He shouted the last bit, waving his hands all around. The spirit stayed absolutely still, as if thinking intently, before finally speaking, pacing slowly back and forth as though contemplating great sums. “Imagine,” It began, and the room was swept away as though it were dust, revealing a black nothing. “The galaxy is destroyed.” As the words were spoken, a map of the galaxy spanned out from nothing, moving through and past Coran. The thousands of tiny bright lights, miniature stars, began to wink out, one by one, until only on remained. The light flickered briefly, and then vanished, consumed by darkness. “Life is gone. Nothing exists. An extreme, perhaps, but your race seems to thrive on extremes.” The spirit came into view now, its form glowing slightly to reveal to Coran the hundreds of thousands of dead stars, of black holes, of nothing that was there. “What I do is to Balance the galaxy.” A single point of light appeared in front of the spirit, and, before long, it had begun to spread as the galaxy began to illuminate itself. “I bring light where there is dark, but do assume that makes me good, kind, merciful. Because, just as I bring light, I also bring the darkness.” The galaxy began to glow. The stars shone brighter and brighter, until Coran could barely look at them. Then the light started to fade. Able to see again, Coran watched as the spirit passed its hands over huge sections of bright stars, to leave them black and empty. “I am Balance.” The spirit stated once more as the galaxy vanished and the room returned to its previous state. Coran couldn’t help but chuckle. Smart people, things, spirits, were always the same. They always ducked the karking question, every time. “So what?” Coran asked again, now opening laughing in a hysterical manner. “Why are you here?” “Hmm…” The spirit mused, examining Coran curiously, “I had thought that would explain it. Obviously you need things spelled out more clearly.” Once more, the room vanished, leaving Coran with a sense of vertigo. Hard to stand straight when you can’t see a floor. On the far side of what had once been the room, a web of shadows began to grow. There was no light to create them; they just appeared from the air, a darkness that consumed any light. “There is a darkness coming. Not the Empire, of course, I have something planned for them. Not the Sith, no, their nature is too chaotic. This… this is something far more precise.” The spirit was in deep thought, staring at the deepening shadows with, Coran was surprised to see, was worry. “No creature, however powerful, could create this. No, this is something far worse. Chaos.” The spirit spoke the last word with great meaning, though Coran felt he was missing something. “Chaos?” He repeated, forming the word into a question. “Of course,” Sighed the spirit, sounding somewhat annoyed. “You wouldn’t know, this is all above your level of thought.” The web had congealed now, into a great spiral, a gaping maw of darkness. “If I exist,” The spirit began, stretching out his hand towards the maw, “This aspect of the Force… then there must be others. It’s a given, a certainty, a fact, though it makes no sense whatsoever.” The spirit touched the maw. A single bright point of light bloomed from where he touched it, spreading across the maw. Dark and light flowed together, forming thousands of different mixes, thousands of shades. “I am the grey.” It spoke slowly, calmly, any trace of pride gone, “So there must be a light, and a dark, and thousands of others for the thousands of shades of grey that exist in-between.” “So what is that?” Coran asked, gesturing towards what was left of the maw. “Dark? Or just some shade of it?” “I do not know.” The spirit spoke, quietly, as the room faded back to its original mold. The old sewer junction. “So let me get this straight.” Coran spoke, plopping down on a chair. “You are here because you need me to get rid of a giant, scary, black, web? Right… just great…” Holstering his weapon, Coran ran his hands through his hair and let out a deep sigh. “You are correct, surprisingly. Though your terminology is… rather weak.” The spirit confirmed, still staring dully at the spot where the maw had been. “Why me?” “A question, that, perhaps,” The spirit began, turning to face Coran, “does not need to yet be answered.” “Ok, then,” Coran said angrily, “Then at least tell me why I should help you?” “I assumed it was obvious.” Shaking his head fiercely, Coran replied, “Whether the universe is light or dark is not my problem.” Coran stood, pointing forcefully at the spirit for effect, “My problem is my team; Kaarn, Alia, and Gurkgren. One of them is still down on Corellia. I’m going to get him, and then go live my life. Your ‘balance’ is not my problem.” “Gurkgren is dead, fool.” “What?” “He fell trying to kill the traitor, Michael, you didn’t know?” “I haven’t had the chance to find out because I’m still stuck in here with you!!” Coran shouted at the top of his lungs, anger sparking. He flipped the table, kicked the chairs, shooting the place up until he had no more ammo. Still, the place returned itself to normal. Anger muted, Coran finally sat down against the wall. “That was unnecessary.” “Shut up and leave me alone.” “I still require your services. Or, if nothing else, your body as a host.” “Then take it!” Coran shouted, throwing his used pistol at the spirit. “Since you seem to think I have no other purpose in life except to do what you want!” “Hmm… No regard for your own life? Acceptable, but I have other ways of making you work.” A layer of dust spun up from the ground, and a body was formed from it, lying prone on the ground. Finding it hard to see who it was from his angle, Coran stood and moved over to the body. It was Alia. A smoking hole in her heart, her body lay cold and motionless. Dead. “Alia…” Coran murmured. “She will die, whether you help me or not. It is her fate.” “Why are you showing me this?” Coran said quietly, unable to take his eyes off of Alia. “Because, I know a way to save her.” “How?” Coran asked, standing up and meeting the spirit in his congealed mess of a face, determination in his eyes. “Agree to help me, and I will tell you.” “Fine,” Coran gave in, “I’ll do it. Now how can I save her?” “You understand,” The spirit began gravely, “That if you go back on this deal I will kill her myself.” “I understand,” Coran said, slowly, looking back down at Alia’s lifeless features. “Then a deal is a deal.” “How do I save her?” “She will die taking a round for you. A shot straight to the heart. To save her, you must abandon her. When you touch down on Nar Shaddaa, after you complete my tasks there, then you must leave her behind. That is the only path in which she survives.” “So,” Coran asked dully, knowing the answer to his question, “I have to leave her to save her.” “Indeed.” They sat there in silence for a few minutes, neither having anything to say. Until Coran decided to ask a question that had been nagging at him. “What was this about Nar Shaddaa?” Asked Coran, his face colorless, his voice dry. “Go there, and I will tell you.” With that, the room, and the spirit, went up in a flash of dust. The darkness crept back in. Before he knew it, Coran was awake.

CHAPTER 13: Diplomatic Immunity ARDUN WOKE with a pounding headache and blood streaming from his thigh. “Ugh,” He groaned, sitting up and clumsily putting pressure on his wound. A sizzling from the corner told him where Vain was. “Ma’am?” He shouted, “What are you doing?” “They’ve locked us out!” She cried out, not even bothering to look back, “They’re taking the ship!” “Yes, and cutting through a Republic blast door won’t help, ma’am.” “Of course it will.” Ardun tried to stand up, but found his leg too weak and fell back down. “Not when we are on an enemy planet, ma’am. It would be best to simply wait this out.” Even as he spoke the words, a squad of Cor-sec officers ran into the room. “Put the lightsaber down, Sith!” Their leader, John Holmes, yelled, brandishing a weapon at Vain. Vain merely turned and held her blade before her menacingly. “Captain.” She spoke, locking eyes with the Cor-sec commander, “What was that you were saying?” Shaking his head, Ardun chuckled to himself. She had to have the last word, didn’t she? “Never mind, ma’am,” He responded, hands still wrapped tightly around his injured thigh. “Sith!” The commander shouted again, “Drop the weapon or we fire!” The crackle of lightning echoed through the air, and bolts of purple electricity flowed around Vain’s body. The Cor-sec officers stepped back slowly, staring intently at the light show going on around Vain. “Did you say fire?” Asked Vain, launching the bolt of Force lighting towards Holmes. “Apprentice!” The single word echoed fiercely around the room. The bolt of lightning dissipated in a burst of energy. That was when Darth Arctis came into the room. “What is going on here, apprentice?” Darth Arctis screamed, moving over to Vain, her every step radiating anger. Looking rather shocked, Vain opened her mouth to reply, but Arctis did not give her the opportunity, flinging her apprentice against the bulkhead behind her. Summoning both Vain’s and her own lightsabers to her hand, Arctis brought them to bear in a cross at Vain’s throat. “The negotiations were short. Thanks to your incredible ability to kark things up. Tell me, apprentice, what were you thinking?” “My lord!” Ardun shouted, trying to get back up on his feet. “We were attacked by a small group of thieves. They are now inside, attempting to steal the ship. Lord Vain was merely trying to prevent their escape.” The Cor-sec commander, Holmes, looked alarmed as Ardun spoke, almost like he knew what was going on. The Darth closed her eyes for a moment, as though searching the docking bay with her mind. Her next statement implied that she had, indeed, felt the thieves inside. “Commander!!” She shouted, turning on Holmes violently, “Why are their thieves inside my ship!?!” Holmes gestured to his men to take a quick step back, “We will handle this, not to worry. I will call another escort to take you to your meeting.” One of Holmes’ men moved off as he spoke, speaking quickly and quietly into a communicator, likely to call the other escort. “Jax?” Holmes asked, turning to his men. One of the men, near the rear of the group, moved forward. “Yes, sir?” The man inquired, saluting his commander. “Take this group here and deal with the thieves. Shoot to kill, understood?” “Sir, yes, sir.” The soldier responded, turning to give out orders to the rest of the group. “Sith,” Holmes spoke, walking away, “Come with me.” “Not until my ship is secure.” Arctis said coolly, still holding both her and her apprentice’s sabers. “Not an option.” Holmes said, meeting Arctis’ eye. The two stood there for a moment, sizing each other up, before Arctis gave in. “Vain,” She said quietly, “Grab the idiot soldier over there,” She gestured to Ardun, “And follow me.” “Yes, Master,” Vain said, subdued, and moved over to Ardun. “Sleep well,” Vain said quietly as she passed her hand over Ardun’s eyes. A moment later, it all went black.

CHAPTER 12: Escape EVERYTHING WENT white. Coran felt his body go rigid, and then he felt it melt away. And then there was nothing. Just a vast emptiness. Without a thought, it all changed. There was no boom, no flash of light. It just changed. The surroundings were familiar now, Coran noted. He was back in their little sewer home, standing in the center, the water lapping at his ankles. “Coran?” A soft voice whispered. Pivoting lightly on his ankle, Coran turned to look down the eastern passage. And there was Alia. Dressed in a stunning white dress that accented her curves and smoothed her edges, she took Coran’s breath away. “Like what you see?” She asked. And it was all Coran could do not to blush. He smiled broadly and nodded, drunk on pleasure. “I do,” Coran said just as quietly, moving closer to her. “I knew you’d like it,” She said, twirling in her dress, a wondrously rare smile on her face. She laughed, a soft burbling sound, and looked at Coran lovingly. “I love you,” She said, and then vanished into dust. Panicked, Coran rushed forward to try and grab her, but he was too late. “Alia!” He cried, grabbing at mist. So fervent was his effort that he fell, face first, into the stream of water below. He crashed down and the water splashed, flying through the air. But there was no sound. There was no crash of the water as it came back to earth, no soft ripple as Coran pulled himself back up. Coran had only a few moments to notice this before another voice echoed through the room. “You were right,” Kaarn said, in his usual collected tone. “Sorry I ever doubted you, buddy.” Turning, Coran saw Kaarn in the middle of the junction, arms crossed, legs slightly split apart. But it wasn’t right. Something was off about it. The figure in front of him wasn’t Kaarn; there was some minuscule difference that put Coran off. Maybe it was the fur, the expression, the voice, but something wasn't right. Something wasn't real. “Who are you?” Asked Coran, crossing his arms and looking carefully at Kaarn. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” The figure spoke, and then exploded into a mist of dust. Coran ducked his head to protect himself and shielded his eyes from the millions of dust particles flying his way. A few moments later, when the small storm had passed, Coran stood and examined the junction. Searching for another apparition, Coran didn’t think to look behind him, where a shadowy figure materialized out of the air behind him; a pistol in hand. “Coran.” The voice spoke, the single word sounding faintly ominous. Turning slowly around, Coran saw Michael standing behind him with Coran’s pistol, the A-300, held loosely in his hand. “Michael…” Muttered Coran, slightly confused. Michael wasn’t someone he’d been expecting to see. “Such a fragile thing… a life.” Michael said slowly, turning the barrel of the gun over in his hands. The barrel moved towards Coran, and, as though watching from a dream, Coran saw the barrel flash as energy ionized. He never saw the bolt fly out. It passed through his body and Coran cried out in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his chest. “Goodbye,” Michael said, and Coran felt a layer of fine dust fall on top of him as Michael disappeared. Then the world vanished. All was black. “I have been waiting.” A deep voice echoed from the blackness. A small pin***** of light appeared in the distance, and as it became larger, Coran could begin to see his body once more. “For what?” Begged Coran as he floundered in the blackness, trying to find something tangible to stand on. “You.” “Why me? Stang, what are you anyway?” “It is no matter. All that matters is that you are here.” “No. I want answers! Where am I? Who are you? Why me? Why now? Answer me!” Coran shouted, and as his voice rang out through space the light vanished, and so did the dark. It was impossible to explain, Coran would later think, but there was now just… nothing there. It was nothing. No light, no dark, nothing. ---------- That was when feeling began to return. As though feeling a long lost limb, sense began to return to Coran. He felt the hard surface of durasteel plates under his hands. He smelt smoke and fur and, oddly, a wondrous perfume. He tasted the metallic taint of blood. Then, his eyes opened. “Thank the stars,” Alia said, her face incredibly close to Coran’s. “Kaarn!” She cried softly, “He’s awake!” Rushing over, Kaarn’s face soon entered Coran’s field of vision as well. “Good, because we need to go; now.” He said, a mixture of urgency, relief, and despair on his face. “Then hurry up with that hack!” Snapped Alia, pushing Kaarn away from Coran, “I’ll bring him back up to speed,” Sitting up, Coran saw, to his right, the large profile of a Fury-class interceptor. “Wait.” He said, “When did I get here?” “Time for that later,” Alia said, pushing Coran’s A-300 into his hand, “Find a spot, get your sightlines, and shoot anything that comes through that door.” She said, pointing towards the door on the far side of the hanger. Looking closely, Coran recognized it as the door to the waiting room. Looking even more closely, Coran saw a bright pin***** of red light carving a hole in the door. “Is that a-“ Coran began to ask, but Alia cut him off. “Yes, it’s a lightsaber, don’t you remember anything?” She said, exasperated, as though this was old news. Thinking back, Coran replied, “The last thing I remember is talking to Kaarn. There was something he had to know… something he-“Now it was Kaarn’s turn to cut him off. “That Michael was a traitor, right? You never got the chance to tell me, but we figured it out soon enough.” Kaarn yelled over, while punching in a complex series of numbers in the Fury. About to open his mouth to ask another question, Alia cut off Coran before he could even speak, directing her comment at Kaarn. “Aren’t you done with that yet? You said it would only take a minute!” “Can it!” Kaarn snapped back, “Almost done.” As he spoke those last two words the Fury’s hatch door smoothly slid open. “Got it!” Kaarn yelled, sprinting inside. “Coming!” Cried Alia as she followed Kaarn. Coran, still confused, followed them as well, closing the Fury’s hatch as he entered the ship. Striding aboard, Coran was admiring the craftsmanship when Kaarn’s voice snapped on via the loudspeakers. “Coran, Alia, get up here, it’s going to be a bumpy ride!” Coran, not even pausing to register how quickly Kaarn had accessed the ship’s computers, raced to the bridge. As soon as he reached the bridge he was greeted by a brilliant scene of flashing lights and flickering numbers. Lost in it all, Coran threw himself down in the nearest seat, watching Kaarn work his magic at the controls. “Stang, Kaarn,” Coran whispered, “When did you learn how fly like this?” As he spoke the words, a faint memory came back to his ears. “Who are you?” “That’s the question, isn’t it?” The ship moved up and towards the spaceport exit. Alarms began ringing loudly as the hanger registered an unauthorized takeoff. The already chaotic bridge now filled with the crimson red of flashing lights. The door to the hanger started closing shut, a precaution against thieves, and Kaarn gunned the engines. The ship slipped between the ever closing space, leaving two long gouges in the ship’s wings as the ship barely slipped through. Shuddering tremendously, the ship’s repulsorlifts sputtered and Kaarn almost lost control of the ship. “Sorry,” Kaarn yelled as he flipped a few switches and pressed a few buttons, reestablishing the ship’s equilibrium, but just barely. The comm buzzed loudly. Kaarn didn’t even bother to look at it. “Coran!” He shouted, “Get that for me, would you?” Coran waved affirmation and slid over to the comm, hitting the switch on the wall behind Kaarn. A small blue figure materialized out of the air in front of Coran. Though it was hard to tell, with everything being blue, Coran was fairly certain the man in front of him wore the garb of the republic military. The man’s next words proved him right. “Stop your ship and submit to boarding by the Republic Military. This is not a request. If you do not concede then we will be forced to open fire on-“ Coran switched off the comm. “Kaarn!” He yelled, “Tell me you installed that spike!” Kaarn didn’t speak for a moment, “Stang,” he muttered, “Knew I forgot something,” “Kaarn!” Alia shouted, her eyes wide with fear. “Best get on those turrets,” Kaarn said as he gunned the engines, moving towards the atmosphere. A few moments later the ship bucked as they broke through the atmosphere. That was also when Alia had a realization. “This thing doesn’t have turrets, Kaarn!” “Stang…” Kaarn trailed off. He wasn’t really conversing, as his focus was vested elsewhere. The comm buzzed again, and Coran snapped. “We don’t karking care!” He yelled, pulling out his pistol and blowing a hole in the comm system. Alia glared at him heatedly, and all Coran could do was shrug. “What?” He asked bitterly, the question rhetorical, “It would have been a boring conversation anyway.” A loud crack echoed through the ship and the world shook violently. Coran and Alia, not strapped in, were thrown off their feet. Discussion stopped there. Looking at each other, Coran and Alia had the same thought. We’ve been hit. “Damage report?” Coran asked, getting back on his feet. “Shields to ten percent, venting leaks in the medical bay and port barracks. Severe external damage. We can’t take another hit like that.” Kaarn said, able to shift his focus just long enough to check. Taking a deep breath, Coran closed his eyes and envisioned the situation in his mind. He had never been as good at this as Kaarn, but, in a pinch, he could work wonders. Coran’s mind flitted through possibilities, solutions, chances, and then began spitting out directions. “Alia, get us locked in for hyperdrive, Kaarn, get on a console and see if you can get your hack implemented, stay nearby to help out Alia.” “Then who’s flying?” Alia asked, moving over to the navigational controls. “I am.” Coran said, moving into the pilot’s seat as Kaarn stepped out, the Bothan’s eyes doubtful. “Do you even know how to?” Kaarn asked, quietly, as if already given up. “I just… know.” Coran said, strapping himself in and jerking the ship in a hard starboard to avoid another volley. Kaarn, moving to a terminal, paused over a screen. “We’ve got company.” He said, hitting Coran on the shoulder, “Seven Talon-class fighters, incoming.” “Bring ‘em on.” Coran said, his eyes becoming solid blue disks. The ship ducked and turned and flitted, back and forth, up and down, left and right. From space, it was as if the ship had just multiplied, the speed leaving afterimages that threw off sights. Suddenly, the ship halted in mid-air, the thrusters reversed to slow the ship as much as possible. The Talon fighters, moving quickly to keep up, were left a distance ahead of the Fury, clear in the range of its cannons. But Coran didn’t take a shot, but launched the ship’s EMP suites, disabling the fighters, and then jerked the ship to the side, taking it on an intercept course with one of the five great capitol ships orbiting Corellia. Kaarn and Alia, though focused on their tasks, couldn’t help but watch in awe as fields and fields of turbo lasers on the capitol ship lit up, sending a flurry of rounds at the small ship. Coran danced between the waves, moving in just as the next flurry was sent up until he was riding alongside the lines of turbo lasers. “Are the hyperspace coordinates ready?” The deep, supernatural voice asked, a clear indication that this was not truly Coran. “Almost.” Alia responded, jumping back into her work with renewed energy. Kaarn ran over from his position, the hack hopeless, to help Alia out with the coordinates. Meanwhile, Coran spun the ship and weaved it in and out of the rows of turbo lasers. Light began dancing across the view screen once more as he moved upward, towards the command bridge of the ship, once more in the ship’s line of fire. Now though, every capitol ship, fighter, frigate, any military vessel scrambled, had a clear field of fire as well. The ship’s path was engulfed in greens and blues and reds. The ship began shaking, trembling, as fire began hitting the ship. Finally, with a loud crash, the ship jerked to the left heavily. “This machine is damaged.” Coran spoke, calmly, “Enter the coordinates now, or we die.” “Take ‘em” Alia shouted, inputting the final numbers. Kaarn, who was closest to the switch, flicked the switch. The field of fire vanished, along with the stars, into lines of light. Then, with a crack, the ship entered hyperspace. They had, escaped, barely. The task complete, Coran, like before, passed out.

CHAPTER 11: Prices KATIE FOUND her way to the shuttle bay fairly quickly. A few quick words and quiet promises to the lone guard and she was through into the bay itself. From there it didn’t take her long to find Goll. Meditating in front of a rust bucket of a ship, he had a small bag next to him; probably filled with clothes, Katie thought, and his lightsaber strapped to his belt. “Talk about packing light.” Katie mumbled, making her way to Goll, no even quite sure what she was going to say. As she grew closer and closer, her heart began racing. Why am I even here? She thought to herself, but the thought was quickly dismissed. She was here for Natalya; her friend. Katie took a deep breath, and then opened her mouth, planning to yell something like; Hey dirt bag! or something similar. However, Goll beat her to the punch. “What is it, girl?” He asked, opening his eyes and not even bothering to rise from his position. “Give me back my friend!” Katie yelled, and then quickly shoved her hand over her mouth. That wasn’t quite what she had wanted to say. “Why?” Katie paused, she didn’t really have a good reason why. “Because…” She began, biting her tongue while she thought of something to say, “Because I need her. I won’t be able to get through this place without her.” Letting out a short breath, Katie smiled to herself. That was surely a good enough reason; and it was even true, in a manner of speaking. Natalya was the one who helped Katie focus, and, if it wasn’t for her, Katie might have been “removed” from class by now. Her force powers were highly erratic and not exactly reliable. “So, your abilities are weak?” Katie’s eyes went wide. That was not what he was supposed to have gotten from this. “No!” She retorted, making sure she looked as offended as possible. “Curious,” Goll said, crossing his arms and looking at Katie with interest. “What?” Katie said, now confused. What did he mean by “curious”? Of course, that was when Natalya walked in. Wearing a plain brown robe and carrying her bags; two of them, her eyes widened as she drew near Katie. “Katie?” Natalya asked, blue eyes twinkling in confusion. “I… I… umm,” Katie tried to speak, but couldn’t find words. This whole thing had been a very, very bad idea. “Good,” Goll spoke, quietly, looking at the two girls. “This will work out better than I hoped. Natalya, I’m sure you realized by now that I am to be your new teacher for the immediate future. Your first lesson begins now.” Katie felt a cold force around her neck. It lifted her up, inch by inch, and Natalya’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Goll was doing. “Stop that!” She yelled, reaching out with the Force to save her friend. The words of her new master, Goll, stopped her. “You do, she dies.” So Natalya stood, helpless, and watched her friend being slowly choked. “This woman,” Spoke Goll, staring at Natalya and not even seeming to register the body floating in midair, “Is your time at this place, at this compound. She is your friend, your confidant, your protector, perhaps. She is all you were at this place. Look at her, and see yourself.” Shouting the last words, Goll entered Natalya’s mind. Wrenching control of it from the woman, Goll altered Natalya’s perception of the world, shaped it in order to better serve his lesson. ---------- Natalya looked up. All she saw was herself, ten years younger, dressed in an initiate’s robe. Emotions that were not hers flooded through her; Hate, Spite, Anger. That young child was weak, pathetic, it didn’t deserve to live! Strike her down Natalya grabbed ahold of herself, “NO!” She screamed. “That isn’t me, that’s Katie!” Strike her down “No!” Strike her down “No…” Strike her down The command focused through Natalya, became Natalya. Her world became contained within that fragile space. Katie and Natalya. But it wasn’t Katie. It was weakness, pity, ignorance, everything Natalya had been force-fed since childhood. It, for there was no other word for the creature hanging in the air, was a lie. Then, in a brief moment that flickered past, so fast as to almost be forgotten, Natalya snapped it’s neck. It crumpled to the ground, a pile of rags and robes, but Natalya didn’t pay any attention to that. Slowly, her mind became her own once more as Goll released his control. Though it seemed frivolous, Natalya noticed Goll’s hands were shaking as he released his hold on her. “Do you understand what just happened?” Goll asked, sitting back down. “I let go, metaphorically, of course. I let go of this place. I wiped my slate clean.” “Good,” Goll said, smiling. “Entirely right. Now get on the ship, we must leave.” Natalya nodded and gathered her things, heading up into the ship’s interior. Goll stayed outside and stared at the fallen corpse, thinking. He would have to be careful. Natalya was strong when she wanted to be, but he could not break her. He had gotten close there; he had almost broken her mind under his. Almost. Goll would have to find another way to teach her, else he would soon not have an apprentice. Musing over this thought, Goll gathered his things and joined Natalya in the shuttle. Within a few minutes, they were off to Ilum, the quiet of space a contrast with Goll’s racing mind.

Whew, thanks