Anniversary “My Lord,” Quinn said as he entered the room. Ald rolled over to his side, stretched, and smiled. “That was an amazing nap.” “No dreams?” “No, not yet anyway.” “Perhaps, this year, you won’t have any.” “Did you get what I asked?” “Yes.” “And the arrangements are made?” “Did you expect any less of me?” Quinn asked, quirking an eyebrow. Ald smiled. “Of course not. You’re my answer man.” He ignored Quinn’s eye twitch at that comment. “Shall we?” “Once you get dressed, yes.” “I like sleeping naked,” Ald said with a grin of impossibly pearly white teeth. Quinn blinked at him, turned on his heel and left. Ald giggled to himself. The man was still stiff in ways, but he had gotten better. A little, at least. Sort of. He was still exacting though and, today of all days, Ald needed that. He needed Quinn’s stability to help him get through this. It wasn’t every day you shot someone’s remains into orbit. *** “Are you ready, my Lord?” Quinn asked. His finger was poised over the release button. He was ready. He was more than ready to move on with their lives. Ald wasn’t. Or, rather, this method of disposal didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right to leave them drifting in space. “Change of plans,” Ald said quietly. Quinn dropped his hand and nodded. He knew Ald would change his mind. He always did when it came to her. As always, he had a back-up plan. He informed Ald of this and was a bit disappointed when he only agreed with half of the plan. The other half he said he would take care of himself. Quinn didn’t like it one bit. Later in the evening he approached Ald as Malavai, his lover and confidant. He found Ald sitting on the bed in their shared quarters on the Fury. “Will this help?” Malavai asked quietly. “Disposing of her this way, I mean.” “She wasn’t trash, Malavai,” Ald replied stiffly. Malavai sighed and moved toward the bed. “I’m not implying she was. Unfortunately, when dealing with remains, there is no gentle way to put the handling of them. You dispose of them like trash because they are a shell that formerly contained someone you may have cared for.” “You’re quite cold.” “She tried to kill me.” “She failed.” “She only failed because of that modified virus. Technically, I still died. I’m still not the man I was before then.” “But you’re alive. That’s all that matters. Right?” Malavai quirked his lips up and sat down next to Ald. “I am alive, mostly healthy, and very happy.” He put his hand on Ald’s knee. “I know this is hard and I have no words to take away the pain you feel at doing this, but I will say this: I am here when you need me.” “That means a lot to me.” “I should hope so. It’s quite painful for heartfelt words to fall on deaf ears.” Ald chuckled for a moment then sobered. “It really hurts,” he said quietly, his voice thickening with tears. “I know.” *** Ald wasn’t sure how he felt about all this. He left her there. He buried her with a sapling and left her there. She would live on, in a way, but he still felt strange about leaving her there. She had started this journey with him before he left Korriban. It was Malavai who had the idea to have a drink. Some sort of glowing, blue Chiss vodka. It reminded him of her. Ald raised his shot glass. “To Vette,” he said. Malavai hesitated for a moment then raised his glass and replied in kind. They knocked back their drinks and coughed in unison. It was very strong vodka. “Sweet stars,” Ald said with a chuckling cough. “That is strong.” “That’s the point of it, isn’t it?” Malavai asked stiffly. He cleared his throat a few times to stop the burning. It didn’t help much. “You know, I’ve never seen you drunk.” “You never will.” “Is that a challenge?” “My Lord, with all due respect, I would drink you under the table and then some.” “It’s a challenge.” Malavai grabbed the bottle and poured another shot for them both. He knocked it back and smiled at Ald. “It’s on, Quinn,” Ald said with a toothy grin. “I’m Quinn now?” Malavai chuckled. He poured another shot and knocked it back. “You should catch up if you hope to win your own challenge, my Lord.” Ald reached across the table and snatched the bottle from Malavai. “You’re going down.” “Are you coming on to me?” “Yes.” “I’m in a relationship.” Ald cackled and downed another shot. It wasn’t every day you buried a friend. And Ald was thankful for that. Also this vodka. He was really thankful for this vodka.

Weird shopkeeps are the best. I want to try to work in the other gifts he gives in-game, but I have no idea how that'll happen, lol. Thanks for reading everyone!

Replies ahoy! Story is go! Prompt: Anniversaries Characters: Ald, Quinn, and a bottle of Chiss vodka Continued from here Something Blue

Maybe it's artifice. I'm a terrible crafter. >.>

The lowest mod my cybertech can make are level 9s. Enhancements are made by synthweavers and likely at the same level. I generally level through a starter planet with gear that drops after my adaptive gear is outdated. Once I hit 9, I put in all my armorings and mods and I'm good to go.

While it looks like it would be a male only item, it's likely being advertised on males like the last few "skimps" which can be used on both genders. Equal opportunity half-nudity.

Prompt: Anniversaries Characters: Ald and Quinn Saying Goodbye

Tang I hate the taste of blood. I’ve always found people who eat raw or barely cooked meat to be strange. It always tastes like metal. It can signal death or grievous injury. Maybe that’s why those people liked it. I don’t. I hate the taste of blood. The taste is even worse when it’s your own blood. My chest is killing me. Feels like it did the day I took a blast too close. Got a nice scar for that. And a job offer. He’s somewhere in the room. Or the area. Somewhere. I can sense him. I have always sensed him. There’s a small, strange bond between us. We’re connected, yet separate. We weren’t always. He used to be part of me. And not the part that conceived him. If he was conceived at all. We never knew. We didn’t care. Now I wonder if that was a mistake. It doesn’t matter now. He’s here. I’m here. He will get his answers. And I will get my peace. It’s not long before he speaks. He has perfected quiet anger. If it weren’t directed at me I’d be proud. Forget that, I am proud. He is definitely my son. “– the truth,” he says. Damn, didn’t hear the start of that. Then it starts. I smell ozone. I feel death’s embrace and, suddenly, I am back on the Dominator. An hour before the clock runs out and Jaesa is by my side again. I miss her. It pains me to see her again, but I cannot change fate. I want to scream. I want to tell her to get to a pod a leave. But she already knows. She’s saying her goodbyes through tears and snot and it’s all I can do to keep her leaving. I can’t change fate. This is torture. Someone is screaming. Thirty minutes until time stops. Jadus. This all leads back to Jadus. The experiments. The pain. The careful selection of a subject. The disappearing staff. Death. Blood on my hands. It’s all Jadus. The screaming stops. The Dominator is blown from the sky. I’m hurtling toward Dromund Kaas. I crash and am injured. Intelligence. Jadus. The screaming starts again and I can’t– Notes:

It's about to take another twist. I'm glad you're enjoying this. Thanks for reading everyone!

Prompt: These Are the Droids Characters: Ald and 2V There's No Off Switch... Notes:

Control He’s mostly conscious. Gelt knows this, but he’s sure the man on the floor doesn’t. It’s his father. After all this time. After all of the pain he went through. His suffering. Everything. His greatest deception. He was a coward. He would always be a coward and a fool. He let his wife die, he let his son be enslaved. He watched his son fight others for his life and made money off him. It made him sick. He carves a pattern into the starburst scar in the middle of Ucles’ chest. The man doesn’t cry out. He barely registers there’s pain at all, but it’s there all the same. Gelt doesn’t care. Why should he? He’ll get the truth, though. He’ll get everything from this man before killing him. He wants to know why. Why he was left to suffer. Why this scum of a man deceived him. Why his damn life was ruined. And he would get his truths. By force.

MUAHAHHAHAAHAAAH!! Thanks for reading everyone!

Waking Up Hard I wake up on the floor. There may or may not be a hole in my chest. Kid must’ve thought I was a dream. Something caused by all the medication. An illusion. I’m unfortunately real. And so is the pain in my chest. I have no idea where he is or where I am. I only know that –

Servant Two. I love you. WTB Servant Two Creepy Creepy Romance.

Reply-o-rama This just in from the desk of irishfino! I've gathered up all the Geltie and Ucles shorts and posted them into their own thread Hindsight. There are two new bits on the second page with more to come (brain allowing). Hope to see you in the new thread! And, as always, thanks for reading!

More? More! Check out Hindsight for more. Thanks for reading! [blows kisses]

Revealed He’s getting better. He still can’t see, but he’s making progress. We, Talos and I, routed out the poisons. Got that taken care of for the most part. Damage’s been done, but damage can be soothed or fixed or dealt with. He’s dealing. It’s kind of funny, all things considered, watching him interact with Mako. Kid’s smooth. Strangest damn thing I’ve ever seen. He tosses out flirts the better he’s feeling. If he can summon the energy to hit on her, he’s got a lot of energy. If his passes are more stumbles, he’s feeling terrible that day. It’s a good gauge. He still can’t see a damn thing. Mako’s out. So’s Talos. The rest of his crew is somewhere. I never know where. I never pay much mind to it. He talks. He talks about everything. He talks about nothing. He just talks. It’s like he doesn’t want to go to sleep. He doesn’t want to dream. I understand that. I understand that better than most. Now might be the time. The time to let him see. To let him hear. To let him know he’s not alone. I’m scared. I’m a coward. After all this time, I still waffle in front of Darths. I don’t know what his reaction will be. He’s strong enough now that he could kill me without too much strain. That comforts me. I don’t know why it does, but the thought of him killing me comforts me. Maybe I’ve been hit on the head one too many times. I want to, though. I want to give him this gift if it’s the last thing I do and damn it all it might be, but the kid needs this. If he doesn’t kill me, I’ll retire and be what I should have been all these years. “Hey, kid,” I say. Sh*t, I sound nervous. I am nervous. He turns his head slightly. The cloth over his eyes doesn’t move. “Yeah?” “The visor I wear, it – uh – it might be able to return your sight until we can determine whether or not it’s gone for good.” He brightens up a bit. “It might hurt a little bit.” He doesn’t care. Says he can’t feel much anyway. I have a good feeling he’s about to rediscover his feelings by being punched in them. I take off the visor, make a few adjustments and remove the cloth from his eyes. He’s looking at me and through me at the same time. Sh*t, there’s not even a bead of light in his eyes. After this, even if I won’t see it, I hope there is. I hope a spark ignites the flames in his eyes. Even if he directs those flames at me and burns me down. Moment of truth. I snap the visor on. Tiny probes mount the device to his face. Very little blood. He’s still looking at me. I want to be the first thing he sees even if it’s the last I see of him. He bolts up from the bed. He’s seen a ghost. “Hello,” I say. My voice is back to its normal timbre. My Imperial accent there for all to hear. His reaction is visceral. He lunges forward and I brace myself for his hate, his rage, his – he’s hugging me. “Welcome home, father,” he says. His voice is tight with tears. I sob into his shoulder. I never expected him to welcome me. I never expected my son to – I hug him for all I’m worth. I should have told him sooner. Hindsight is a son of a b*tch. Notes:

New Material! For Someone Else Kid wakes up three days later. I’m relieved. Kid’s been through enough in the twenty two years he’s been alive. More than enough. He may never love again though and that’s – that’s just sad. But he’s alive and that’ll have to be enough for now. I know what it’s like, though. After my wife died, there was no one else. I didn’t want anyone else. Still don’t. I get the urge every once in a great while to take a woman into my bed. I never do. Sh*t can get complicated quickly. Not worth it. Did try once though. That was a debacle if I’d ever experienced one. She left disappointed. “I heard him,” the kid says. It snaps me out of my thoughts. Thank the stars for that. “Heard who?” I ask. “My father.” “Ah.” “I haven’t heard his voice in years. I – I didn’t recognize him at first. He disappeared when I was eight. Almost eight, anyway. It’s been four –” he breaks off into a fit of coughing. It’s all I can do to wait it out, make sure his heart keeps beating steadily before jumping into action. There’s nothing for a coughing fit. “Fourteen years,” he continues. He smiles a bit and chuckles quietly. “Makes me feel old.” “You?” I ask. He chuckles again. He’s in a good mood. Good. I hope it helped. He sobers up real quick. “Will my sight return?” “I don’t know.” It’s true. I don’t know. I wish I knew. There’s always cybernetics, but the kid’s got good looks. It would be a shame to ruin them with new optics. I know a guy though. He fixed me up with my new arm. Realistic as hell this thing is. Even feels warm, self-healing. Damn Maker send, it is. Bet he could do eyes, too. “Have you found anything else on him? Father, I mean.” “I haven’t had time.” “Then what am I paying you for?” “Look, kid –” He interrupts me. I shut up and let him. “Occulus. My name is Darth Occulus and you will refer to me as such, you worthless hunter. Are we clear?” He doesn’t want anyone near. He’s never insisted I use his title before. I’ve always called him kid. From the moment I found him huddled outside my door at the age of ten until now. Things change though. I know that. He knows that. I let him have this. Feels weird though, but even I can feel the fire he’s slowly stoking. I won’t blow it out. Kid deserves that much, at least. “Sure, ki –” I catch myself. F*cking habit. “Uh, of course, my Lord.” Feels like syrup on my tongue. “Ugh,” he sighs. I think he hates it too. He goes quiet. Went back to sleep, I hope. He’s got strength in him yet. He’s going to need it.

Walk With Me She’s here. He can feel her in his mind. “Hello,” she says. She’s as quiet and as shy as the day they met. He liked her near instantly. “Hello,” he replies. He can’t see a damn thing it’s so dark, but he knows her voice. It’s her. It’s his Rylee. No. No, she’s not his any longer. “I don’t regret what I did,” she says. Those words stab him in the chest. “I only regret I didn’t do it sooner.” “I thought you were different, Rylee.” Is that his voice? It’s raw and low. He hasn’t cried, he isn’t crying. Why does it sound like he is? “I thought I was too. Then Ravage – it’s your fault, you know. You brought me here. You took me away from the Cult, away from my home, and brought me to the capital of death in the Empire.” “You were safe,” he says. He doesn’t raise his voice, he hasn’t the energy, but the hurt is there. “I was never safe. I could never be safe. I didn’t belong. You knew, didn’t you? You knew I didn’t belong there with you, but you wanted me anyway. You were selfish. Now we’re both dead.” “I’m not dead.” His voice is pleading. He doesn’t believe it. “You will be soon.” A flash of light. Pain burning in his chest. Screams. Then a voice. “It’s alright.” He doesn’t – it couldn’t be. If it was that meant his search – his search was futile. “You’re –” “Here, yes.” “But that means you’re dead, too.” “No. I’m not dead. Believe it or not, I’m not dead. Not after all this time.” The voice is tired and regretful. He wonders why. The voice urges him to wake up, to fight, to push on. To do something other than lie there and take the abuse, to lie there and die. “I don’t have it in me,” he says. “You do. You have to live. You have to.” “Why?” “When you recognize my voice, you’ll understand. And I hope you’ll forgive me.” There’s a pause then the voice returns, soft and pleading. “Please come back. Please come back to me.” Something clicks in his mind. For him, he will fight through. For him, he will return to the waking world. For him, he will reunite their lost lives. For him, he will live. That’s all that matters. He has to live.

Get Better, Dammit Kid’s not getting any better. He crashed five times on the way back to Dromund Kaas. Five times. That ain’t normal and the void damned blood analysis is taking its sweet time. Annoying piece of machinery. Talos is in a bit of a panic, but talking seems to help. So I talk to him. He’s an interesting fella, got a lot of smarts, pays attention to the tiny details. All around good guy and loyal Imperial. We sit in the little seating area in the kid’s room and he offers me a drink. If I wasn’t on duty, I’d already have a bottle in my hand. Kid’s gotta live though. Ain’t nothin’ else matter. “It was Khem who alerted me,” Talos says. His voice is quiet. He’s tired, I can tell. He won’t sleep when I tell him to. He’s too worried he’ll wake up and his Lord will be gone. I know the feeling. “They’re got a weird connection right?” I ask. Weird isn’t enough to describe the strangeness that encompasses that giant Force eating beast. “I don’t understand the ins and outs of it myself,” he says. I bet the kid doesn’t get it either. “I had – I had noticed Rylee acting strangely since the incident with Ravage. I took care of her after my Lord’s assessment. Oh, right, Gelt. He insists – after all this time.” He breaks off into a nervous chuckle. It’s a little endearing, I won’t lie. He’s kind of adorable. That’s weird. An adorable man, but he’s – can’t stay mad at someone like that, he’s just so earnest. I think lack of sleep is getting to me. “I’m an archeologist,” he continues, “I’m trained to look for the smallest clues to the big prize. I noticed her talking to herself in a frenzied pace. She would wander the halls with no goal in mind. Her HoloNet searches grew darker, but nothing that screamed ‘Stop her now!’ I feel like a fool.” “Nah, no need to feel a fool,” I say. He looks at me, stares right into my visor as if he can see through it to my eyes to detect deception. “Hindsight is the best, worst thing in the Galaxy. Hindsight slaps you in the face while screaming at you, telling you were a fool. Hindsight punches you in the gut while telling you, you were right all along. Hindsight is the most confusing and enlightening entity there is. And it’s all in the mind. What you did, what you think you should have done, what happened, and looking back – those things you cannot change. It’s too late. What happened, happened. Gotta move forward though. Gotta keep going. Gotta keep the kid alive. He has to live, Talos, and if you’re too busy focusing on what you should have seen or done, you’ll miss the present. You’ll screw something up and the kid’ll die. Can you live with that on your conscious?” He drops his gaze. Reality is harsh. Call me hindsight, because I feel as if I sucker punched this poor bastard. “Yes, I – well, no, I cannot live with that at all, but, yes, I understand your meaning,” he says at last. “I think – I think I will rest a while.” “S’all good, Talos,” I say. “Mako and I’ll keep watch.” “Wake me,” he whispers urgently, “wake me if we are to lose him. Or if he crashes again. Or if he awakens. Please, please wake me.” “I’ll give you a shout.” He says his thanks and leaves for his bunk. I can feel his pain from here. Or maybe I’m confusing it for my own.

I See Rylee. It was the only coherent thought in his head. Rylee. Then pain. Rylee. Then death. Rylee. He could breathe again. Rylee. She was finishing the job. Rylee… Rylee… Rylee…

Wish Wish I could’ve been there. I would’ve given that b*tch what for. Would’ve left her alive long enough to find out what the hell she did, what the hell she used on him. Made her death slow. At least she’s dead. Kid might die, though. He’s not even trying. It’s like he’s given up. Mako thinks I only care because of the paycheck. Is that who she thinks I am? Of course it is, she doesn’t know. I can’t tell her. She’ll have a fit. Leave, I bet. She’s a good kid. He’s a good kid. They’re both good kids. We’ve got a good thing going here. I don’t want to ruin it. No matter how much it hurts. Still, I think she suspects something. She’s not very careful about covering up her tracks. Either that or I’m just damn good at finding them. She’s been in my things, too. Analyzing the steps I’ve gone through to get the stuff the kid wants. I’ve asked her not to pry. Told her it’s none of her damn business and to leave it be. She can’t. If she’s not careful, my past will catch up to her. And it ain’t pretty. Don’t matter much now. Gotta focus on the kid. If he goes everything was for nothing. Can’t live with that. I study my face in the mirror one last time before heading back to the kid’s bedside. I’m old. I’m old as f**k. Life’s beaten the sh*t out of me. But the kid. Kid’s got a chance. Kid’s got a life. Kid’s got power. Kid’s gotta live. Ain’t nothin’ else at this point. Kid’s gotta live. I repeat that in my head as I take the chair next to his bed. His breaths are shallow, his skin is pale and clammy. I’m watching this kid die. I feel something burning in the pit of my stomach. Kid’s gotta live. Ain’t nothin’ else at this point.

Cross My Heart I remember trying to get my wife pregnant. It was an oddly trying time for both of us. She monitored her cycle, chose the best times of day, listened to old wives’ tales of conception. It interfered with my work, but I loved her and made due. The first time we were successful we were ecstatic. She started planning as soon as the results were positive. Three months in we lost them. We lost our twin girls. I let her know it was alright. It wasn’t her fault. These things happened. And it was true. She believed me, of course, I had no reason to lie. It got harder for her to believe me when we lost the next one. Another girl. She thought something was wrong with her. She went mad with worry and went to specialist after specialist until one told her what she wanted to hear. We suffered another loss before our son was conceived. By then the damage had been done. She stayed in bed for much of her day, ate the healthiest foods she could find, listened to every bit of paranoid advice concerning the child. She was a walking incubator. She wouldn’t even let me sleep in the same bed as her. She didn’t want anything to jostle her stomach. We grew apart over those long months. When he was born, I was relieved. I wasn’t happy, I was relieved. The pressure of her pregnancy was finally gone. I could focus on my duties again without as much worry over her safety. Over her sanity. I could hold my wife again. I still loved her. I still wanted her. I wanted to be close to her again. I wanted to feel the smoothness of her skin against mine. I wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell her I loved her. She doted on that boy the moment he was in her arms. She named him after me. She wanted a little Ucles at home while I was away. He looked enough like me to carry the name well. I would have preferred him to have a unique name, but she was insistent and, after everything we had been through, I couldn’t deny her this. As he aged, though, he seemed to hate her. He shied from her touch. He screamed when she picked him up. He was never like that with me. In fact, I was all he wanted when he needed comfort after a tumble or a tantrum. She was convinced he knew she had lost the others. She convinced herself that our son, our little lightning spark, blamed her for their deaths. The deaths of his siblings. There was no possible way he knew. I told her that. There was no one to blame for the losses. I didn’t blame her, but I knew she blamed herself. One day she asked me if I thought she was crazy. I told her no. I told her I loved her and knew the grief she suffered. She died protecting us. It was all I could do to paint the prettiest picture of his dead mother whenever he asked. He didn’t need to know his mother was broken. He asked me, years later, what she was like. He already knew. He had the journals. I hand delivered them. I painted the prettiest picture of his dead mother. His smile, knowing in its youthfulness, was just like hers. It pains me to this day.

Planned “I had this all planned you know,” Rylee said idly. “Ever since you let Ravage take me.” Gelt’s head was spinning. The last few weeks came to him in a rush. The invasion of Tython, a victorious blow to the Republic, Rylee in his arms, Rylee keening under him. Rylee. He tried to draw his head up, but found every part of him heavy. His energy was drained. The Force refused to come to him. “Never do that again.” It was his voice, but he wasn’t speaking. “Never do something like that again.” “No, my Lord,” Rylee replied. He shook his head and forced himself to regain his bearings. That happened weeks ago, he was sure. Yes, it had. He was tending to Rylee after retrieving her from the Council floor. He had taken great cares to keep her protected, but if she went out of her way and out of his bubble… there wasn’t anything he could do to protect her. She knew this. He had verbally beaten it into her skull every time she was visiting. Do not leave the estate unless it’s under guard. Do not bother any Sith. Do not look at any other Sith. Do not breathe on any other Sith. Stay quiet, stay alive. Stay respectful, keep your head. She knew this. She knew all this. He hadn’t let Ravage do anything; she walked right up to him and slapped him in the face. It didn’t matter what she was doing or why. It didn’t matter that it was for the Empire. She had crossed certain boundaries she shouldn’t have. She should have told him. She should have – dammit, she should have stayed away from the political sphere. She wasn’t versed in it. It was nothing like the Cult. “What have you done?” he asked. He spoke slowly, his tongue like freshly poured duracrete in his mouth. “The Three helped me come up with the plan,” she said with a slight giggle. “You remember them, right? You were so kind, making them join us instead of replacing Destris and I. You promised to protect the Cult from harm. To protect it from Sith. To protect me. You failed. You failed really hard.” “You shouldn’t – shouldn’t have been in the archives. If you had information –” “If I had information, what?” she interrupted. She jabbed something into his side and delighted at his grunt of pain. “I wanted to help. I wanted to help my Lord, my leader, my Geltie. You didn’t even notice. You didn’t even notice I went missing. Where were you?” “I told you I had business in the Citadel. You snuck out on your own. You – agh!” Rylee smiled as the current from the shock collar around his neck flared to life at the press of a button. How interesting it was to see a man who could control lightning with barely a thought be so susceptible to it. It made a bit of sense, really, if she thought about it. “This isn’t about me, Gelt. Or should I call you by your real name?” she asked. She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she depressed the shock collar trigger again and delighted at his screams. He wanted to overload the collar. He wanted to break free from her torture and kill her. That thought disturbed something, somewhere in his mind. But the sound of his own screams, the weakness in his limbs, his disconnect from the Force. Grey mingled with purple in his vision. She would not survive this night. Even if it killed him. *** She was dead. He knew that much. If it hadn’t been for the smell of ozone in the air, the smell of burned flesh would have tipped him off. And the way she screamed. Now it was silent outside of a slight sizzling to his left. He felt sick. He wished he knew where he was. He couldn’t recall how he had gotten to this place, how she had tied him up and kept him drugged until she was ready to dole out her punishment. No one would find him here. He’d starve to death before he could work his way out of the bonds. His only defense, his lightning, was once again lost to him. He felt numb and sick at the same time. It was a weird mixture of needing to vomit, but being unable to. He wished he could see. He needed to gather clues as to his location and try something, anything to get to a terminal of some sort to signal for help. For a time, he was convinced he was blindfolded. When he realized his eyelashes hit air and not cloth the pit in his stomach deepened. Then he picked up the slight rise and fall of footsteps. “Oh, dear,” said Talos. Relief flooded through him. He didn’t care what brought Talos here or who, only that he was here. Only that his medic was here and he was safe. He could have cried. *** “What’s the kid’s prognosis?” asked a voice. Male. No accent. Possibly Ucles, though he never seemed medically inclined. “He’s been touch and go for the last day,” replied another voice. Male, Imperial dialect. It was likely to be Talos, his personal medic. “He had a large and varied amount of poison and sedative in his system. He has a few superficial cuts to his skin and a few deeper ones located primarily in his torso. There’s a particularly nasty one near his heart and it’s all I can do to ensure it isn’t worse than it looks. I’ve hesitated to call for a medical team because of his position, but it may no longer be an option.” “Why’s that?” “I can’t keep him going on my own.” “All you had to do was ask, Talos. Mako’s damn near a doctor and I’ve got more experience than you’d think. Between the three of us, kid’ll live.” “I can’t approve treatment from two non-certified –” “It’s fine, Talos,” Gelt said. He was surprised at the amount of energy it took to say those three words. “My Lord, you’re awake!” Talos squeaked happily. “Not for long.” “Oh, oh right. Right. Ucles and Mako want to help. Is that – is that alright?” “Yes…” He didn’t hear anything that made sense after that. Everything was distorted and stretched thin. He felt himself floating. He remembered drinking the poison Ergast offered him. He remembered the taste of bile and sewage. He remembered leaving his body for the strangest experience he had had up to that very moment. He remembered the power then remembered nothing.

It Begins “When I heard Darth Occulus hadn’t been up to his usual womanizing ways,” Ravage said, starting in on Gelt for the hundredth time this meeting, “I thought ‘He could be’,” he paused here and curled his lips, glaring at Gelt like the trash he thought him to be, “’in love.’” He spat out the word “love” like venom on his tongue. Gelt stared at him with an amused half-smirk. Far be it from him to goad the man into an argument, but if he wanted to start one, far be it from him to deny Ravage the chance to be verbally beaten down. That’s all these meetings ever produced anyway. Might as well have a bit of fun at Ravage’s expense. “I did a little investigating,” Ravaged continued. The way he wrapped his tongue around “investigating” sent a shiver down Gelt’s spine. “I found your little wh*re.” Gelt put on his best bored to tears face and stared at Ravage with half-lidded eyes. “Is there a point to all of this?” “Of course there’s a point, whelp!” Ravage snarled. “Your little whore was captured in an area she shouldn’t have been in.” “I’ll be very upset if you broke my toy.” He would be more than upset, he would be devastated. “Under torture she admitted to breaking into the archives for the purpose of obtaining maps.” “I’d call my mother a hussy under torture, Ravage, that confession means nothing.” “Except she had maps on her person.” Ravage sat back in his chair and smirked. Gelt frowned. “Where is she?” As soon as he asked, he wished he hadn’t. Ravage smirked that damn winning smirk of his and turned his head toward the door that led to the back room. Gelt turned his attention to the door and watched as a barely conscious Rylee was dragged in by two unknowns. Her two escorts threw her to the floor and walked off. She made a noise as she hit the floor, but didn’t move or make any other sound. Gelt sighed dramatically and left his chair. He was deeply concerned, of course, but showing it would mean a challenge and a challenge would likely end in her death. It wasn’t worth it. Not to him. When he reached her, he flipped her onto her back with his foot. She made another pained noise then lay silent. “Where’s your evidence, Ravage?” Gelt asked, still looking down at Rylee. She was covered in burns. Her clothes were patchy and spotted with blood. Lightning and knives, most likely. She would recover a little worse for wear, but she would recover nonetheless. “I left it on her person. Have fun finding it.” “Did you take drama lessons from Vowrawn?” Gelt quipped. He knelt down next to Rylee and patted her down. She flinched and whimpered at his touch. “It’s in my pocket,” she whispered hoarsely. “Star chart…” Then she was quiet again. Gelt reached into her pocket and pulled out the chip containing the information she had procured. Without a second thought, he slipped it into his datapad and loaded the information. The files were from the late Darth Baras: ways to extend the conflict, ways to become the Voice of the Emperor, his spies entrenched in the Jedi Order on Tython. Tython. Tython wasn’t on any Imperial map and he had only heard of it from his mother once or twice before her death. “Once again, Ravage, you acted first and thought after,” Gelt said as he stood. “I have here something that will win us this war.” “The suspense is killing me,” Ravage drawled. “Shut up and let him speak,” Marr said. “Please continue,” insisted Mortis. “How many of you have heard of Tython?”