Chapter I
"Rage," Emeena chimed, "Come on, Rage." She smiled genuinely, her young crow's feet crinkling. Her hair was covered in ferocious dark curls and her eyes revealed a lenient hazel, but determination had sheltered itself beneath them. Emeena Lonethorn was calling for Rage, and stood patiently.
They were at home; their home on Skip 1 of Smuggler's Run. The floor was made of a dark stone and the walls were an expensive metal, made especially to keep one safe. Emeena's only reason for the walls was to keep Rage safe, no one else, not even herself. The air was stagnant and zealously aromatic, yet only ones who sensed such emotions would have noticed it. It was a place many families could have enjoyed if they ever had the opportunity to live there.
"Mama," Rage called back, rushing into the room. She was young and cheerful, innocence in her wet stone eyes. Her hair was dark and all one length; it rested on her shoulders, covering one eye at an angle. Her small black cloak was one size too big and hung over her body loosely, especially the sleeves at her hands; it was thrown over them ineptly. Her skin was light and clean, though a slight cut was across her left cheek.
Emeena picked up her child truly content, and held her closely. "How are you today?"
"I'm good, Mama." Rage smiled unpretentiously, the smile of a child.
"You know Mama loves to hear that. Is Daddy going to teach you today?" Emeena hid her concern, though it was clear she was struggling to do so. Rage was Emeena's pride and joy, her life, her happiness in a vessel of sorrow; Rage was her daughter.
"Yes, Daddy's goin' to teach me. I get to make things move, Mama!" Rage's face lit up brightly and Emeena grinned at her merriment.
Emeena thought softly to herself, She doesn't know what it is. She must think it's just a slight of hand, nothing more. What if she knows it, my daughter? The Force…it couldn't be helping her. We told them, we told them—
A thud stirred her thoughts as it trespassed. Vil Lonethorn walked into the room, his boots thudding against the floor stiffly, but his face wore a wide toothy grin. His armor was old, rusted, worn by other ancestors. It protected him when times were fatal, but not when it was unnecessary; this made it difficult to determine what the material was. It had a crest shaped about the front area, almost too craggy to make out. He stared at his wife and child before speaking. "Good day, Emeena."
"Vil, how was your day?" Emeena gave a small smile towards her husband. There was so much about him she never understood, yet she never questioned it.
"It was good. I made sure to keep everything under control in my sector. But how was my Ragey?" Vil adored Rage and nearly swiped her from his wife's hands.
"She was Rage, I'll tell you that." Emeena looked at her giggling daughter. "Let's just say, one of your Medical Droids saw the last of its life today."
"Was it Tera?" Vil glanced around carefully, hoping not to see his Tera on the floor in pieces.
"No, you know she loves Tera. It was an older model, surely nothing valuable."
"They're all valuable."
"Well then, we might have a problem."
"Rage, is this true?" Vil gazed at his daughter with interest.
"Daddy," Rage said, her eyebrows scrunching together. "The droid was in my way. He was bein' a meanie, so I did what you said. I used the lightsaber."
Vil couldn't help but laugh. "That's my girl! It's good those lessons come in handy."
"Vil," Emeena scowled, "You can't always be that tough. Look." She gestured towards the cut on Rage's cheek.
"That was completely accident; she tripped, Emeena. It had nothing to do with her training." Vil carefully picked Rage out of his wife's arms. "She still has more to do today."
"Just, please, be careful. Remember, you may get so many technics to teach, but we only get one Rage Lonethorn." Emeena's eyes pleaded silently before Vil turned, disregarding her. He loved his wife, he truly did, but they didn't think the same. He was a Sith, she was a Smuggler. How the two came to be was a sight on its own, but it never did matter to them. They lived for the future, the grasp on each concept to be made into wonder. The only thing that was keeping them together was Rage, and that made things all the better.
Vil continued on, out into the back of his home. It was a cloak-and-dagger spot, only few of them knew where it was considering it was hidden. It was behind corners and doors, passages and clicks. Rage stared about, glorying at the large space where she always came. Although she came often, it never stopped her from enjoying the likes of it. She may have been young, but she was smart; she knew that it meant something brilliant, something that would help her.
He set his daughter down on the soil and walked to the opposite side of the room swiftly. He had a lot on his mind as he paced to his position. I can't believe I lied to Emeena, he thought to himself, I shouldn't do that. It wasn't my fault, Rage was in the way. The steel blade was dull, it couldn't have hurt her that much, not enough to complain about. He watched his daughter stare at the room wondrously. No, I didn't even know she was there until I whipped around. She shouldn't have been standing there, it wasn't my fault. "Rage, are you ready, sweetie?"
"Yeah, Daddy. What am I going to do?" Rage got her attention to her father and waited.
"You see this boulder?" Vil, using the Force, moved the large boulder from next to him to the midpoint between them, leaving yards between them still.
"Yes."
"Bring it to you the way I showed you." His voice suddenly became doused firmness, very powerful like a leader.
Rage nodded and closed her eyes, a habit her dad didn't like too much, but never tried to teach her otherwise. She inhaled and focused on the boulder, finding it in the room as a blind person. She was using waves to search before grasping it. She never knew what happened until she opened her eyes, hoping the task had been accomplished. Her focus was sitting attached to the big rock, becoming something with it, not one, but a partner. They were dependent, having trust in one another.
Rage opened her eyes.
The sarsen was inches from her face and dropped to her feet as she noticed how close it was. "Like that?" Rage asked, sounding almost bored.
"Great job," Vil applauded despite her attitude towards it. He wanted her to feel like progress would get her farther if she understood someone was fond of it, that someone cared about how powerful she became.
It sparked a small smile on Rage's face. Before she could say another word, the door near her slid open. Two men hurried in, blasters at hand and grim looks on their faces. They both had matching brown cargo pants and dark shirts, but they contrasted far from each other. One was tall and bulky with light blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, his hands were held tightly around the blaster gun as he aimed it at Rage. The other was an average height with no hair at all, but his chubby fingers aimed the blaster at Vil. Their faces were grimy and wrinkled, not from age, but from experience in their business.
Vil kept his face composed but held his hands up. "Can I help you fellas'?"
"Shut your mouth." The one with chubby fingers spoke sternly. "We're looking for a Vilsailant Q. Lonethorn, and I'm guessing that's you." He grinned wickedly to reveal several rotten and yellow teeth, bathed in decay and foul odors.
Vil took the order nicely and waited, that's all he could do. Speaking and making any unnecessary moves would mean his daughter's life. The tall one had the blaster to Rage's head, the look on her face was scared and confused, unknowing of what was going on. Her father wanted to wrap his arms around her and say that everything was okay, but even he couldn't do that. Rage, he reached out to her with his mind, Don't move at all. Daddy's going to do something; he's going to help us. Don't move at all, sweetie, please, just don't—
Vil's thought was cut off as a man in white robes entered the room. The white was dazzling and bright, unlike any he'd seen. The man's face aged by time and years of stress, but it was intellect. He had a cotton-ball-like beard hanging from his lower face and approached the only real man in the room. "Vilsailant Q. Lonethron," he breathed.
Vil nodded as notification.
The man pulled his lightsaber off his belt and activated the bright azure blade; it hummed to life and he raised it a bit higher. "We found you. I hope you didn't honestly think you could hide from his; trying to take us down isn't exactly the wise thing to do. So, for the sake of yourself," he swung the blade straight across Vil's neck, making a clean cut. The last expression on his face lingered before his head fell to the flooe, staining the soil with blood. A silence fell upon the room and Rage's eyes stared at her father's body while it went limp against the ground.
"Yzuk, what do you want us to do with the body?" The man with the chubby fingers no longer had a grin on his face, but a sorry look. It hadn't been the first time he witnessed a homicide, but it was the first where a child had watched.
"Leave it; no one will need to see it again." The man in the robes kept the blade on, its humming almost like a twisted laughter. It had gotten another victim with its power, surely not its last.
"What about the girl?" The tall one shoved at Rage's head with the blaster, her grey eyes terrified.
Yzuk let his eyes rest upon Rage for seconds before shifting. "Leave her here, unharmed. Our job was to only get rid of her father, not her. Come." He waved his hand and the men followed like lost puppies in the rain, leaving Rage alone with the corpse.
Rage stood still, trying to understand, but she was too young. She knew her father was dead, but didn't know that meant he wasn't coming back. "Daddy? Daddy?" She came to his body and became nervous at the spot where there should have been a head and face.
Emeena came through the doorway minutes later. She wasn't hurt but crouched down next her husband. Her love and sorrow swept through her like a thunderstorm. Hot tears welled up in her eyes before falling onto his armor.
"Mama?" Rage tugged at her mother's sleeve.
Emeena gawped at her daughter and stood up, wiping her tears away. "Rage, I'm sorry." Her voice was muffled with warmth and she fled the room. She wouldn't be returning.
Rage thought to herself too many things. She didn't know what was going on, but she did not want to know. A sense of loneliness caressed her and she felt herself release waterworks. She stuck her fingers to her mouth and whistled.
An odd droning sound came closer as it traveled through the multiple corridors, finally finding her. A droid hovered into the room; it was a round body with three mechanical arms, one metal eye that glowed green, and an antennae protruding from the top of its head. "Yes, Master Rage?" Tera spoke in a machine-driven voice of a man.
"Tera," she wept and attempted to keep herself together. "We need to get our stuff and leave. Daddy's not…"
"There, there, Master Rage." One of the arms reached out and patted Rage on the back. "I will help you; you are my new master, I see. Where do you want to go?"
"We'll go anywhere. We'll hide and I'll train me like Daddy did." She wiped away the last of her tears and her face took on a new natural look of fury. This was her not. They quickly gathered up all the things they thought they needed before fleeing the home. Rage took control and led Tera around before finally stopping in an alley for the night.
The next day when they awoke, they celebrated Rage's fifth birthday.
