The code had been concise and effective. Had the ship been in orbit, Jen'ari was certain they would have been torn apart in the atmosphere by now. It took little effort to determine when the change was made, and where it came from. With his legs crossed and his mind deep in meditation, tendrils of his awareness searched for Marren's location.
"This is ridiculous!" hissed Juvehil. "She sold us out, why are we wasting time looking for her, when Rozen is still out there!"
"The update to the navigational function was deliberate. She knew we were not in orbit, and she does not make careless mistakes. There is more at work here than we are aware of, and I believe this is a hint at the bigger picture." Replied Octagon levelly.
Without warning, the ground jumped and rumbled beneath the ship as Jen'ari leapt to his feet and snatched the macrobinoculars from their cubby. He punched the external hatch release and was half-way down the ramp before it had fully extended. Despite the earthquake and spinning wildly with the binoculars to his face, like a compass seeking north, Jen'ari found what he was looking for. The Vigilance had breached the atmosphere and was spinning rapidly towards the ground – to their location to be exact. Superimposed between the tumbling spacecraft and the rising full moon hovered a massive Acclamator, keeping pace just outside of the planet's orbit.
Octagon had already replaced the headset and was preparing to launch for rescue when his inbound intercom array signaled another ship was requesting an open channel.
"To the planetside Jedi vessel, this is Commander Qhorroga of the iCaelestis Ferrum/i, flagship of the iFatum Operandi/i. You and your team have four minutes to achieve orbit and leave this sector. Failure to comply will result in swift and severe prejudice." Came a cold female voice over the headset.
Across the expanse of space, twenty-two batteries of orbital strike cannons were taking aim at the colonies descending into nightfall.
Addestratore. The word rolled around in Rozen's mind like a steel weight. It was rare enough, even in Miraluka society. Popular culture had romanticized it to be like love at first sight, but the truth was always more complex.
Rozen's eyes glazed over as the minutes stretched into hours. The smell of death and blood were cloying in the heat, but it served to keep her present and her breath shallow. Exhaustion and pain slackened her concentration, however, and memories started to creep in where there should have been focus.
When she had first met Pol, on the Orbital Station Anetheron, it was like two stars colliding. They always seemed to run into each other, random assignments constantly saw them paired. Even after her reassignment, the Force saw them constantly and unexpectedly reunited. The relationship that followed was simply a matter of course. What they never mention is the price you pay for crossing that line. Once you give in to that bond, you lose the boundary of yourself. Their word becomes law. Their desires become your will, and they have the whole of the Force backing them. Your will, your strength within the Force, belongs entirely to them.
iAddestratore/i. Handler.
Severing that bond was the single hardest thing Rozen had ever done. Now, here he is just yards away, and the ache of belonging to that bond was hammering in at the edge of her senses. This time, however, she had an inner strength that was not present before.
iYou know what you have to do./i Whispered the voice of the Inner Master. A smile creped on to the corner of Rozen's broken lips. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or to sob. Either way, the time was now. A dry laugh cracked through the silence, sending a startled shudder through the pool of ghouls and tattered bits of Rodian clothing.
"What happened to you, Pol? Why all the drugs, the ghouls? Did you miss me that badly?" she managed to spit out with a casual air.
"You have no idea." He replied flatly as he grabbed a fresh syringe. "But since you seem to be coming out of it so quickly, let's give you another dose. It is rather remarkable, don't you think? Synthetic Midichlorians. In a body with a low count, they mimic a healthy population until the energy runs out. But to most Force Adepts, like you and I, it acts like a virus, attacking all of the natural Midichlorians like an immune system. I'm most curious to see if the natural count will return after prolonged exposure."
"What, you mean I'll end up like one of those things in the pool?"
"Ha, no. Those are just over-spiced dead heads who are chemically addicted to midichlorians. The brain thinks that is what gives them the high, you see. Since there is no convenient way for the synthetic Midichlorians to exit their system, they simply become a slave to their cells. Not unlike someone else I once knew." He leaned in close. "Do you feel it yet?"
"What, you mean the pain like razors in my veins? The fact that my heart feels like it's pumping tar?" She retorted snidely.
"No. I mean regret. You could have been a part of this. A part of me. Yet here you are." He raised the needle.
"Please, Pol, you don't have to do this. We can go back, to the way things were." Rozen simpered. With the delicate touch of a feather, she reached Pol's heart with the thread-thin tendril of the Force, and embraced a power she had sworn to abandon. His blood was thick with the Lagol, and Rozen noticed how complete it made his Human disguise.
Pol grew very still, his breathing heavy. She knew that he was being flooded with compassion and doubt that she was forcing him to feel. He was confused, distracted. She would not get a better shot.
Like lightening, she snaked her leg behind his lead knee and wrenched him off balance. It was a simple shove to send him falling into the pool. He laughed as he landed on the torpid ghouls.
"Really?! Was this what you were saving up all of your energy for?" He laughed cruelly. Rozen stood up from the chair, and surrendered the walls keeping the Force at bay. The ghouls whipped immediately into a frothing frenzy.
"No! OH GOD, NO!" Pol's voice cracked as he screamed.
Seeking out the bond to Pol's heart, she replaced the long-severed connection. Decades of his memory flooded her mind as she embraced his essence within the Force. It was so simple, to surrender to his will within the Force. His presence became indistinguishable from hers.
For the briefest of moment, Rozen felt whole again.
She had given years of her life, and taken lives of others, for this man. This poor, cruel, corrupted soul that had cost so much to so many others that she could not even begin to count. She stood vigil and endured this final divide as he paid the ultimate price.
It didn't take long for Rozen to find her gear. The lab techs had scampered off through a back door, but not before kicking open the pen releases. Hungry ghouls seemed to fill every corner of the abandoned warehouse, as well as the courtyard by the sounds of it. They were coming at her like moths to a flame, and Rozen was just too damn tired to hack her way out the door. It was then that she spied the last syringe Pol had threatened her with on the floor, next to her chair.
iThis is a BAD idea…/i She thought as she stabbed the Lagol into her thigh and ignited her lightsaber. It lurched and oscillated wildly in her hands, without the Force to steady and guide them. Burning plasma hacked wildly as arms and teeth reached for the Jedi Knight. Her limbs felt like lead with every swing, but the ghouls were rapidly losing interest.
Half-way to the back door, Rozen noticed a small patch panel against the wall with an illuminated red panic button.
i Oh, bless your paranoia, Pol./i She thought as she rammed the button with the butt of her lightsaber.
"ALERT! The Control Point is self-destructing. Explosion imminent in two minutes!" Echoed a woman's voice.
It took all of Grayson's formidable knowledge and skill as a pilot to right the spacecraft's trajectory. Even then, he counted himself incredibly fortunate. Had Jen'ari not been so deeply immersed within the Force, shining like a beacon in the night, Grayson would have had a much harder time reorienting the ship.
Both The Stillness and The Vigilance were circling in a low holding pattern while their com channels flickered rapidly in data exchange. Juvehil and Zon were already plotting the trajectory out of the atmosphere, while Thunderwalker and Kat'hari were searching hastily for any sign of Rozen.
"I know, but we're out of time!" Barked Octagon into his headset.
"THERE!" Called Kat'hari. "North by northwest, another 6 miles, I'd say."
"She's gone again! What is going on?!" Thunderwalker buzzed back.
Both ships stalled for a split second as a shockwave undercut the lift. To the northwest, a fireball bloomed in angry red and tarry black from an outcropping of rocky hillside. A solemn silence filled both vessels.
"We're out of time." Murmured Grayson, breaking the hush. "Take us out of here, Zon."
Commander Qhorroga of the iCaelestis Ferrum/i was a veritable powerhouse of authority within the iFatum Operandi/i. Her ship was the strongest in the fleet, her ability as a commander unparalleled, and her skill as a Jedi unmatched. Well, former Jedi. The FO wasn't known for its compassion. The ends always justified the means, and in this instance, there could be no overkill. She had been present during the Assembly that had granted it's relatively new and promising acolyte a rather sizable sum of credits. In return, he was to provide the exacting process for the creation of what is commonly referred to as the Lagol Solution. That project had ended a year ago with the acolyte apparently slain and the Solution stolen.
All of her sources in this tedious, year-long investigation pointed at this festering underarm of a Hutt colony. It had seemed so imperative, at the time, to see if the thief had any outside contacts, and it was child's play to set up some pressure with her counter-agents. That Bothan spy's family did the perfect job, and flushed out the contacts within a week. Here they all were, in a tidy little package.
Qhorroga pondered for a moment the value of the Lagol that was likely present on the surface. iOh well./i She thought with casual flair. The iFatum Operandi/i had perfected a more advanced strain months ago. This would hardly be counted as a setback.
"Lieutenant Bantz, open fire." She commanded with steel in her voice to match her spine. Batteries of Orbital Strike Cannons sent searing balls of plasma to the small brown planet.
The twin transports Stillness and Vigilance exited the atmosphere of Nar Kreeta and were slowly gaining a wider orbit. As the sun winked out of view behind the brown planet, a volley of pale orbs littered the atmosphere with flashes of white light. In the cockpit of each vessel, a bitter message played.
"To the members of the Temple of the Jedi Force. This is Marren. If you are receiving this transmission, then the dead man's switch will have done its job. I am sorry I had to wait this long, but there was no guarantee that my mission would be successful. In the access channel under the floorboards of The Stillness, you will find two vials and a datapad. The black vial contains the original Lagol Serum. The blue vial contains a refined Lagol 'Solution'. The datapad holds all of the specs for both. Please, find a way to stop the Fatum Operandi from unleashing it on the galaxy. I wish there was more I could do." Tears were streaming down the lupine face. "If my family… if they make it out, please find them. Find them and tell them I did everything I could. "
The transmission cut out, and silence filled the cold cabin. Arigorn strode down the corridor and quickly located a panel with fresh scratches. Underneath were the prized vials and the datapad, just as Marren had said.
Octagon and Jen'ari were working long-range scans for any other vessels exiting the planet when the scanner set off an unexpected blip. With guarded hope, Jen'ari pulled down the ship's data. It was small A-Wing, hardly meant for interstellar travel. Life signs were reading one… two… THREE! Three life forms! He quickly punched in a comm channel to the ship.
"A-Wing class fighter, this is the Jedi vessel Stillness. Roz, is that you?" He called with barely-restrained hope.
Static filled the channel as the whole ship seemed to hold its breath.
A husky Bothan voice filled the speaker. "Jedi vessel Stillness, this is Karim, first son of the one you know as Marren. I am here with my two little sisters thanks to the great sacrifice of your Master Rozen." Despair dug in its cold fingers, and a second volley rained down on the planet. Karim quickly relayed his story.
"It was maybe two or three days since we were captured. We thought the Gamorrean was a slave trader, but they just holed us up in the pen. It did not take long for them to fill the rest with those ighouls/i. I was sure we were going to be fed to them. When the cage door opened, the Jedi was trying to run out of the building. She spotted us, protected us with her blade. She said she knew where there was a small spaceship hangar. But then, the explosion hit. It was like the world fell apart. She got hit pretty bad. We all made it to the hangar, but only this ship was whole. She looked at the big ship in the sky, and told us to take it, and find you. My mother taught me how to fly, when I was young. I told her we could find a way to all fit, but one of the air filters, I think it was damaged. She said to find you, that you would help us." He trailed off.
Master Grayson, who had been listening in from The Vigilance, piped in on the relay.
"We've been ordered to return the samples to Courscant. As it is, both ships are in need of resupply, and we don't have the firepower to take on the Acclamator to return for her. She is a Jedi. If she is still alive, the Force will guide her." He decreed hollowly.
With the planet between the Acclamator and the three vessels, nav coordinates were compared quickly, and they took off to hyperspace.
Rozen's breath came in slow heaves as she collapsed against the rocks that littered the hidden hangar. The explosion had thrown shrapnel all across her side. It was a miracle that she made it to the hangar with the kids. Lagol was thick in her veins, and she had since lost her ability to see through the Force. She had barely been able to make out the circling Stillness and Vigilance as they left her behind. She didn't blame them. Hopefully those Bothan kids would find them, or at least find a part of the world not blasted into bits to call home.
Orbital cannon strikes rocked the earth beneath her, but she just sat against the rock. It was getting cold, and Rozen was utterly alone. The Force was there somewhere, she knew it had to be, but it was out of her reach again. It was a blessing that she couldn't see the grey of her skin. After several hours into the night, the orbital bombardment stopped. A few hours later, so did Rozen's breathing.
For three days, the sun climbed and set. Rozen's body sat undisturbed, as if in deep meditation. Finally, the body exhaled slowly and slumped to the side.
The rising sun shone coldly through the window of the Temple common room. Octagon sat quietly in a corner with his breakfast of citrus ice and tried to focus on his datapad. The briefing at Courscant was curt and to the point. By all standards, the mission had been beneficial, although the loss of two colonies in quarantine had been tragic. The Jedi and Galactic senate were pooling resources into further investigating the Fatum Operandi, and Mareen's children were in protective custody. It had been three days since he returned to the Temple, and there had still been no word on Rozen. She had been officially registered as Missing in Action, but Octagon was willing to be honest. He may have been distant with his former Apprentice, but their bond in the Force ran deep, regardless. She was gone.
Not too far away from Octagon, Jen'ari padded down the corridor that ran from the kitchens and briefing room to the ops center. He glanced through the window as he walked passed, taking in the cluster of chairs. Nothing had changed since their departure. Rozen's chair sat slightly crooked from where she had almost toppled during that briefing. He smiled sadly at the memory as he continued to walk past.
Flopping into the central chair in the Operations Center, Jen'ari took a swig from his fresh mug of tea and winced at the bruised cheek. His shift was over in a few hours, and he kicked back against the desk to let the automated systems do their job. His eyes dropped, and he was soon lost in a dream of shilli cheese dogs. It jumped and shook violently before turning into black sludge. Dripping like saliva, the black goo fell down into the shape of a door with a needle stabbed through it, and slammed shut.
Jen'ari woke with a start, to find the door to the ops room still open. On the console window in front of him had been typed the letters
G. M. T. L. R.
The End?
8
