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The Caliga

Captain's Quarters

The cabin smelled like whiskey, yet the sole occupant hadn't had more than a glass or two himself. Captain Bedros Malorr wasn't a drinking man by nature. Well meant gifts of alcohol from friends and fellow service people usually ended up forgotten in his closet. Tonight was hardly different. He'd sat down at his chair an hour ago, opened a bottle, gotten through one drink, and immediately proceeded to pour the rest down the fresher's sink drain. After fifteen minutes, he'd opened another bottle and repeated the procedure.

As a consequence, he was now both very much not drunk and two bottles poorer in the whiskey department. That was unfortunate. He may not be a drinking man, but he could appreciate quality, and he detested waste.

The holocomm on his desk buzzed. He glared at it blearily, then took a swig from his nearly empty glass.

I wonder if it's worth opening another bottle?

Outside his window, a million stars twinkled, isolated pockets of fire cast adrift in the great void of the universe. He'd never appreciated their loneliness so much as he did in that moment. He'd never really stopped to look at them, if he was being honest. That kind of rumination seemed silly, melodramatic. He had a ship to run, and an Empire to serve. There was no time for pointless daydreams.

The holocomm buzzed again, vibrations radiating out across the surface of his desk. A holostatue he'd placed near the comm rattled in place, the image wavering in the darkness. Scowling, Captain Malorr mashed the button and growled, "What? What do you want...Oh, apologies...Darth Limina. I wasn't expecting any calls."

Habit caused the hand he'd extended to retreat, unconsciously smoothing out non existent creases in his uniform. Another pointless gesture. The Sith couldn't possibly have seen them through the holoprojector, even if Bedros hadn't always been fastidious with his appearance.

Logic didn't dispel his discomfort, however.

Though cast in the single, darker blue of a holo projection, Bedros could clearly picture the weirdly pale eyes of the Dark Lord as she regarded him from beneath the hood of her cloak. An urge to glance over his shoulder, just to make sure he was alone, nearly overtook him. He managed to fight it off, but only due to practice.

"Hello, Bedros. How are you holding up?"

Captain Malorr wasn't sure what to make of the question, posed in the tone of a jaded doctor examining a long term patient. It wasn't cold, per se, but it was aloof. If she was going for sympathy, it certainly didn't translate well. He could surmise why she'd called, but he wished she hadn't bothered. On top of thoroughly unsettling him, seeing her face twisted the knife in his gut just a little bit deeper.

"Just...fine, My Lord. Just fine," he answered awkwardly.

How did one brush off a Sith Lord?

Green eyes flickered to the glittering remains of two bottles lying scattered on his floor. He'd violently heaved both across the room after emptying their contents. His own little constellation of stars twinkling up at him from the black metal paneling lining his cabin. The holo light made his pale, freckled face look washed out in the near darkness. He hadn't slept in a few days, and he knew it was starting to show, in spite of his best efforts. A starched uniform and dedication to routines built up over years could only hide so much.

"What can I do for you, Darth Limina? Unless this is a social call?" He chuckled pleasantly, but the smile was strained. One finger began to rhythmically tap the edge of his glass. He noticed it, forcibly willing himself to stop. Creepy, unwelcome, and irritating as he may find the Dark Lord's communication at this time, he knew his place.

"Your son's alive. Figured someone ought to tell you, and I didn't see Tarlon doing it anytime soon," the Sith replied flatly. One would think her vaguely inconvenienced by being a bearer of good news.

Captain Malorr only dimly registered the sound of glass breaking as he stood up in a rush, pressing himself closer to the holocomm. "My boy's alive? Essian's alive?" he demanded, breathless.

Decorum be damned.

"Unless he's managed to find some other way of nearly getting himself killed. It has been about two hours since I last spoke with him, so I guess that's a possibility."

Covering his face with his hands, Bedros drew in a deep, shuddery breath. When he looked back at the Sith, his eyes were hard. "What happened?" he demanded. The logic of his brain recoiled from the sound of his own voice, from the sheer ire directed at a Darth, but this was too important. His son was too important.

"Tunnel collapse in the Valley." She'd paused for so long that Bedros had begun to grow angry, thinking she wouldn't answer him. His temper, as a consequence, was near the surface. It now bounded out before he could help himself.

"Tunnel collapse?! He's been missing for four days! Four bloody days, and I've been laughed out of every damned comm call I've managed to get through to you people! Not a word, not a bloody fucking peep about anyone on that thrice damned planet doing anything...and no one has told me anything... I...I apologize," the Captain's hands flexed, tightening into fists as he sat back down. His eyes burned, and he felt like he'd swallowed sand. Finding his center, he folded his hands together on the desk in front of him. "I apologize, my Lord." Instinct and experience made his muscles tense, expecting retribution.

"I just don't understand. Did no one go looking for him?"

Her silence spoke volumes.

Of course they didn't. That wasn't how the Sith operated. My eleven year old goes missing for four days...probably longer, if that was when they realized he was gone...and he's expected to get himself out of trouble...if he's still alive to do so.

"Thank you," he murmured, staring down at his clasped hands, unable to deal with the silence any longer.

"He got himself out," Limina replied.

Small comfort.

"I was off planet at the time, or I would have gotten him myself." Bedros looked up at the tone in her voice, almost missing the words. "I'm sorry about that," she added. Some of the distance had been closed. She sounded oddly sincere, but her expression remained as impassive as always.

Captain Malorr didn't often find himself speechless, but someone might as well have glued his tongue to the roof of his mouth in that moment. He'd never, in all his life, had a Sith apologize to him. And a Darth at that.

"Well there's really nothing to..." he began to say gruffly. He himself didn't apologize to many people either, and he wasn't fond of emotional conversations.

All at once, the other part of her message caught up to him, leaping to the forefront of his brain. He shot her a questioning look, but she didn't elaborate. Realizing he'd have to ask, he steeled himself and tentatively inquired, "Were you, by any chance..."

"Wrapping up an excavation," she cut him off shortly. The sincerity was gone, so fleeting he'd tell himself later he'd imagined it.

"Oh, yes, yes I see. Of course," he nodded absentmindedly, feeling foolish as he unconsciously stroked his beard. He'd half hoped she might have brought more information. The feeling of being stabbed hadn't gone away entirely, but it had lessened. Turns out he'd only lost half of his world, instead of the full thing. His son was alive! Even if...

"Can I speak with him?" He peered closer at the holo, as though expecting his boy to come into view of the projector. As though he'd been there all along, just out of sight.

"I'll arrange for him to call you. He's being seen in the medbay right now."

"Is he alright?" the father asked in alarm. Though, honestly, how had that not occurred to him right off the bat? He'd been so relieved to hear Essian was alive, he'd not even thought to ask about his general state of wellbeing.

"A little battered and dehydrated, but he'll live. The other acolyte he was with was worse off."

"He was with someone?" the Captain frowned. "What were they doing down there?"

"Trespassing," the Dark Lord replied curtly. "They found a hidden chamber in one of the caves. Lost it again when the tunnel collapsed, of course."

Bedros cringed, but Limina continued, "I've smoothed things over, so don't waste your time agonizing about it." If he'd not been a part of this conversation, he might have marveled at her casual irritation. As if she had no idea of the favor she'd done his family. He might have just gotten his son back only to lose him to the boy's own damned stupidity and recklessness.

"I appreciate your assistance, my Lord."

"I think I've told you before, Bedros," the Darth drawled, remnants of a singsong accent filtering through her words. Bedros could count on one hand the number of times he'd heard it slip out in the time he'd known her. It caught his attention now, causing him to grow still. "If you've got to call me something, Limina will do."

"Of course...Darth Limina," Bedros replied uncomfortably. The woman's pale eyes regarded him steadily through the holo projector. His insides squirmed with discomfort, and he schooled his features into something he hoped was respectful. He couldn't have left off the title if he'd tried. The Sith's name weighed uncomfortably on his tongue, heavy with bad blood. She must not realize her informal attitude wasn't quite the olive branch she meant it to be. Then again, Bedros couldn't be sure of her intentions. He didn't really know her all that well, despite her history with his family.

"Was there...something else you needed to tell me?" he asked cautiously. She'd been staring at him for a full minute by this point. He briefly thought the connection might be glitchy, but a quick check of the comm revealed the device as in full working order. Limina blinked, frowning slightly at him as if just remembering he was still present.

"Right...Look, Bedros, I'm not being funny, but your son's a bit stupid," the frown deepened, and her brow creased thoughtfully. "Scratch that. Impulsive."

"My Lo...Darth...I mean to say, he's...well, he's a child..."

"Yeah, no, I know," she cut him off with an impatient shrug and shake of her head. "But he tends to stick his nose where it doesn't belong. And he's a mouthy little bastard. No offense."

Bedros was very offended, even though a treacherous little voice inside him said it sounded accurate assessment of his son. He put his protective feelings aside for the moment. He wasn't about to argue the point, not till he knew where this was going.

"I'll...speak with him...if you think that it would help..." he trailed off lamely, feeling very wrongfooted in this conversation. The Sith were...well, they were expected to be highly opinionated individuals who forced their way through life. At least, that was his understanding. But now he was having to speak as the parent of an acolyte, to another Sith, no less. For once, he was at a loss for words, and he had absolutely no idea what was expected of him.

"I want to train him," Limina said suddenly, leaving him gaping at her with an open mouth. "I'm going to train him, I mean. I'm not really asking. This is your notice."

"Why..." Bedros didn't know his own mind, and so he shut his mouth to give him time to mull over this development. Surprisingly, he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, in spite of it all. Darth Limina was, at the very least, a known evil. More so than the other Sith Lords running around the galaxy, at least. Sith Lords he'd likely never see, much less speak with.

Bedros Malorr was not a fool. He knew the moment his son formally entered an apprenticeship he'd likely never see him again. In the time he'd spent as an acolyte, he'd only spoken to him twice.

He had no real power here. The Sith had taken that choice from him, taken it from his son. Would he feel slightly better knowing that someone who'd once maintained ties to his family was overseeing the boy's future? Even if relations with said individual had ultimately taken a turn for the worse?

He wasn't sure, actually, but something in his gut thought that, just maybe, it might work out. Perhaps that was wishful thinking. He didn't, as she'd reminded him, actually have any say in the matter. His opinion was moot.

"You'll let me speak with him?" he asked resignedly.

"Of course," Darth Limina answered. Quietly, more as an afterthought, she added, "I'm not a monster, in spite of what you may have been told." Bedros didn't reply. A flicker of frustration filled her voice. For a moment, she almost sounded human. Then it was gone again. The pale eyes once more stared at him.

He'd always hated Limina's eyes.

He much preferred the wrath or sadistic glee of other Sith. He could work with aggression. He preferred the Darth herself when her moods shifted to snappish impatience.

He didn't like when she stared at him unspeaking. It made him shiver. She always seemed to be looking past him, and her gaze had a way of making you want to look over your shoulder. Just in case.

"I'll be in touch," Bedros jumped, startled. He wondered when the cooling system had kicked on. He heard it now, a calming thrum of rushing air pouring into his cabin.

Inclining his head, he took the excuse to look away. Palpable relief he couldn't explain filled him. He'd been unconsciously clenching his teeth, and his jaw now ached.

"You know how to find me," he replied politely.

The smile in her voice wasn't matched by her face, but it caused him to look up nonetheless. "I usually know how to find people." Bedros repressed a shudder.