A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…
THE LOW JEDI OF THE HIGH REPUBLIC
It was the darkness before the dawn.
As the Jedi became a symbol of hope
to the Republic, the burden of guarding
civilization itself grew heavy.
Meanwhile, on the galaxy's far fringes,
a renegade Nihil fleet found a treasure.
Was it an ancient ship, or the tomb of
a fallen god? It spoke to their minds.
It called itself the GHOST ENGINE.
It made many promises.
The esoterics and sages of the
Jedi Order sensed this dark
awakening from across the stars.
The Jedi Shadow, Sabel, trained from
birth among a secret generation of troubled
force-sensitives, was dispatched to seek out
and understand this dark presence.
She would be the first Low Jedi of the
High Republic, one whose devotion to
the Jedi Code was instinctive.
One whose flirtations with the darkness
would, in theory, not end in terror…
Introduction
Relics of the Endless Ones
In the bleak reaches of Wild Space, a fleet of Nihil ships, each as big as a small village, swarmed like flies around a bantha carcass; the great disc known to them as 'the Mothership.' If it were truly an animal, it could swallow their whole fleet and still starve.
Since coming aboard, Sabel spent every night trying to ignore the mothership's whispers.
Every night, she lost a little more ground. Every night, they sounded more and more like herself. They were the typical, intrusive thoughts we all grow used to in life:
You are worthless beyond the capacity others have to use you.
Your own mother never loved you.
You are a tool.
You could be more, perhaps even a person.
But you are worthless beyond the capacity others have to use you.
Normal thoughts. Normal, intrusive thoughts that everyone feels. It should have been easy enough to ignore them; that's what Master Z taught her, to just treat those kinds of thoughts like you treat a downer cousin who always shows up late at night, drinks all your brews, and says depressing things until passing out at sunrise.
You just tell your cousin that he's bumming you out, Master Z would say, and that you're not really interested in any of that right now.
"Yes," said Sabel aloud, with her knees folded beneath her on the cold floor, "I'm not really interested in any of that right now, thank you, maybe another time."
In her hands she held a keychain from the old, red speeder she lived out of for years on assignment in the neon jungle of Mek Sha. On the keychain was a gold-plated Jedi figurine with a blazing green lightsaber; something she'd purchased from the Jedi Temple gift shop on Coruscant with Master Z before she'd left on this cursed, cursed, cursed mission.
Every traveler needs a totem, he'd said, over morning caf with a nip of brandy, doesn't matter what it is. Just take a totem and focus on it when you get lost.
A clang from down the hall. Clang. Clang. Clang.
"It's a guard's rifle on the wall, coming closer," Sabel whispered to herself.
Clang. Clang. A man's flat voice: "wow, she must be psychic."
Clang. Closer now, CLANG. Sabel saw the red figure at the entrance to her cell; he was red because he was not a very nice person, and Sabel, being a Miraluka, saw things illuminated by their own spiritual auras, rather than light. This man was very red, and thus very into himself and his way of doing things, and so she knew it was better not to test him.
"Get up," he said, clanging his blaster rifle around on the bars in boredom.
"Of course," she rose to her feet and dusted off her leather pants, "so, am I off the hook with the Admiral? I promise I won't ask him any more stupid questions."
"I don't kriffing know, just get out of the blasted cell and come with me."
The cell shuttled open and Sabel stepped out, stretching her tawny limbs until the right spots popped, "you don't know or you aren't telling?"
"I don't know and even if I did I don't give two bantha shits about you, so telling is beside the point; maybe if you'd give a man some sugar, he'd be more inclined–"
"- no, thank you. I'm a relic specialist, not a cabin girl."
They walked down the hallway, him behind her with the blaster rifle kissing the bare small of her back. He grunted, "can be more than one thing."
"Wouldn't the Admiral get first dibs either way?"
Another grunt, "out the door, let's go."
The Admiral was a scrawny man, with long fingers built for wringing necks and tying knots. He wore knee-high boots and fitted pants, and his collar was gilded with medals that didn't actually mean anything outside of his own private Nihil fiefdom, because he hired someone to make up all the titles.
He carried an old-fashioned dewback riding crop; the kind with extra barbs for getting messages through thick, reptilian hides. Presently, he was using it to separate a subordinate's skin from the rest of him. It was messy, and he'd gotten very good at keeping a stone face throughout torture sessions, so as not to give his personal guards the impression that wanton torture was appropriate for them to dole out as desired.
But the truth was, Admiral Nemo very much enjoyed hurting people, especially loathsome and weak people like his former quartermaster (who would soon bleed to death on the floor for the high crime of inferring Nemo was not being rational about ration distribution).
"Exactly what," said Nemo, as he tossed the wet riding crop on his desk and spattered paperwork with red, "am I supposed to do without a quartermaster, boys?"
The first door guard shrugged, "I dunno, boss, I'm just a trigger guy."
The second door guard checked his communicator, "uhh, well that smart gal you sent for is being pulled outta the brig, maybe she can pull double-duty?"
"Right!" Nemo had a good laugh, almost folding in half with the force of it, "let's have Little Miss Force-Be-With-You from the 'glorious Republic' fantasy-land world Dirtsucker Prime do the numbers for us, I'm sure her skill with 'reading auras' and throwing monkey-lizard bones synergizes nicely with mathematics – what kind of near-human freak is she again?"
"Meery-luka, boss."
"Meery-luka," Nemo tasted the word, smacking his lips, "Meeeeery-looka, what in the world even is that. And why doesn't she have eyes again?!"
The doors to the office slid open, and in walked Sabel, with a rifle stuck to her back. She smelled the blood, saw the smeared remains of a man's wheezing face on the floor, and was all but blinded by the blazing aura of Admiral Nemo, a red that burned from the center of the room like the red dwarf star of her birth world. Oh, how she missed the winds of Alpheridies.
How she missed being young and unafraid.
How she missed not being part of a waking nightmare.
Admiral Nemo sized her up, then sucked his thumb clean. He popped it from his mouth and pointed at her, "they tell me you're smart, Merry-Looker. What's your name again?"
"Sabel."
"And so you're here because…?"
"I was brought on by…" Sabel looked down at the man lying in a pool of his own blood and recognized the dying green eyes of the quartermaster who had been her point of contact to get in with the Nihil. Her mind blanked.
Admiral Nemo slowly tilted his head and made a grand show of listening.
Sabel stalled a few more seconds. It earned her a rifle butt to the spine that sent her stumbling forward. She rolled with it and stumbled right into a low bow, "I was brought here to help you discern the true nature of this ship. I am from the Luka Sene, your people captured me for this express purpose, Great Admiral."
Admiral Nemo rubbed at his face, "hhhhhhhhh – okay. You're not a Jedi, are you?"
Sabel smiled, "a Jedi? Those hypocrites? No, I'm Luka Sene, we're an independent group from Alpheridies, no ties to the Jedi."
Nemo drew his hand back through his hair, slicking it with a trace of blood and spit. "Good. Fine, great, let's go take care of this right now, then, because I did not move all of our operations into this ship for it to just sit here forever. And when we're done with that, you can take that idiot's job! You know math, right?"
Sabel had in fact barely passed her mathematics courses with below average marks, but she smiled and nodded anyways, because the way Nemo squeezed her shoulder and pushed her out the door implied there was no room in this conversation for negativity.
As Sabel was escorted at gunpoint through the winding hallways of that ancient ship, her environment grew less and less familiar; this wasn't to say that she was in a section she'd never been (that was a given) but that the actual architecture of the interior became something she could only later describe as 'supple and twisty.'
The corridors were lined with dark cables and wiring that faded in and out of view like capillaries. There was a vascular feel to the machinery that pulsed doors open as they dove deeper down into the guts of the ship. And yet the metals themselves, such as the doors and the floor, were hewn with precise geometric prints and indentations.
Nemo stood before a large door and interacted with a handprint scanner. "So, any idea where this ship is from?"
Sabel snapped back to reality when she heard Nemo's voice, "ah? Oh, uh… difficult to say. It seems incredibly unique."
"You don't say. Could you maybe take a few guesses, 'scholar'?"
Sabel sincerely had no idea. This ship and its materials were like nothing she'd ever seen in her life, and she only answered to the sages, she was not one of them. This act was difficult to maintain. "It could be from the old Sith Empire, maybe? A pet project of some dark lord or another, they always liked to make things to their tastes."
The grand doors ground open slowly, to the scent of medicine and the feel of hot, humid air on Sabel's skin. A blue light shone through the haze as the doors opened.
Admiral Nemo grinned over his shoulder, "exacting specs, huh? They sound like my kind of people, you know… a time before the kriffing bantha masses took over half the galaxy with their Jedi buddies."
Sabel wandered into the hazy room behind him, "yeah… they're the worst."
The fog parted to reveal a vast interior chamber that was more vertical than otherwise. The walls of the room were bent into a circle and at the center was a set of three pillars rising up into the darkness of the ceiling. The darkness in the ceiling glittered with hundreds of small, star-like motes of light. Everything glistened as if coated in translucent slime.
But above all, dominating everything else in sight, was the giant, blue pod hanging from a tangle of pulsing wires at the center of the room's three pillars. At the base of these pillars there was a wading pool full of what smelled like chemical coolant. It lapped at the pillars like a meditation pond laps at mossy rocks.
There was indeed a kind of ethereal, empty beauty to the place that Sabel felt as a hollow, numbing feeling in her chest. The great confluences of the Force were strong here, and the darkness in this place terrified her not because it was a bright and selfish red like the men around her, but because it was…
… it was…
"... transparent," she whispered, as she walked toward the standing pools.
Nemo grabbed her arm and jerked her back hard, "what are you doing? Talk to me."
"It's transparent."
"What the kriff does that mean?"
"The energy, the Force, here, it's… transparent, like glass. Empty. Dead, but very… not alive, but – active."
"Is that supposed to make sense to me, witch-brain?"
"Do you know what this chamber is, Admiral?"
"I know it's in the guts. My techs followed the energy signatures from the reactors; it all leads here, everything. This is like… a control node. This is where all the… stuff comes from."
Sabel turned to look at him seriously, "what do you mean, 'stuff'?"
Nemo, for once, could not make eye contact. He let her go and backed away, "the stuff. The dreams, the nightmares. All that fake stuff, it needs to stop."
"You're not alone. I've felt it too."
"Then shut up and do something about it."
Sabel did not offer negativity, and accepted that she was not in control of this situation; for a Jedi, sometimes the only way out was through. Trust in the Force. See what the Force wishes you to see. So, she walked toward the central pool.
It felt like walking into the middle of a dark room, with no walls to guard your back. It felt like swimming in the ocean with your toes dangling down like bait over the vast unknown. It felt like returning home to the emptiness before birth.
Terror, but relief that the torments of life would soon be over.
Sabel looked around. The Nihil were gone.
She stood atop a shimmering field. Above her in the darkness there were a trillion blinking stars. A small constellation of stars blinked yellow, turned toward one another like eyes becoming aware of each other, and then descended from the heavens on wire stalks.
Sabel felt herself paralyzed as they approached her. She could only see the transparent outline of a wispy, alien form flexing its limbs around those eyes.
Welcome, Endless One.
Sabel stammered through this drugged simulation of consciousness, "endless… one?"
Those who know the threads of the Force, who may become Endless. Eternal ghosts.
"Is that… you?"
Yes. But no mere ghost, am I. The Ghost Engine, I have become - Akama the Ascended.
"Release me from this."
Soon. I am planting my seed in you.
"You're– what?!"
Take it far from here. These brutes will ruin it. Take it far, then bring it back in ten years.
"I don't understand."
But I do, Jedi.
"What?! Don't tell them, please!"
I won't.
"I don't believe you."
Believe what you want to. When the time comes, return to your masters at the Jedi Temple. Find their systems. Spread my seeds so they may sprout and hear the song.
"It's all a terrible dream…"
Yes. Everything is. Goodbye, Endless One.
Sabel felt her body stretched through a pipe. It felt like being shunted through a long coffin, limbs paralyzed but mind much too aware – buried alive and somehow moving. She screamed but her screams were drowned out by data.
When her feet touched solid ground again, there was some relief. Her right arm felt cold and strong. Her eyes blinked, but that couldn't be right, because she had no eyes, she was Miraluka. When she looked at the crowd of Nihil surrounding her, she saw the blood pumping in their bodies, their heat signatures, and alien glyphs translated to Basic informing her of their armaments.
Admiral Nemo parted the crowd of armed men, "stand down, boys… she's a gift."
Sabel dropped to her knees and coughed up fluid that tasted like raw meat and narcotics. Her whole body trembled. When she looked at her right hand, it was synthetic, traced with geometric lines and elegant segmentations like nothing she'd ever seen.
Nemo ran his fingers through her hair. She felt her stomach heave.
He smiled down into her eyes, "this ship is a miracle."
The voice of the ship spoke from everywhere at once, because that is where it was:
Your language and thoughts have been decrypted. All systems corrected. Ghost Engine awakened. Helm active. Aspirant captain, report to the helm.
"Guess that's me," Nemo grasped Sabel's synthetic hand and pulled her to her feet.
Sabel stood up with him. She was in too deep, now – much too deep. Yet all the dread was gone, and her heart felt absent.
All she could think of was returning to her masters at the Jedi Temple. "I did as you asked. I want to go home now."
Nemo grinned and squeezed her hand. "No. You'll be here, my queen. We'll treat you so nicely, I promise."
"So nice," added one of the Nihil, with murmurs of agreement around him.
Sabel wanted to run, to scream, to kick, fight, kill. Something malignant was at work here, but it had its hooks in her, in them. All she could do was go with the flow.
Nine Months Later
Over geological epochs, Alpheridies winds had carved the stone crags into art. This created porous mountainsides where grottos could host microbiomes full of squat, translucent lifeforms sheltered from the endless wind moving from the world's dark half toward the sunset.
The super-planet's intense gravity was twice the galactic standard, and this meant the air was compressed into a buoyant, invisible soup; great clouds of spores and seeds floated throughout the sky, carried on wind, and chased by Miralukans in lightweight harvest skimmers. Even now, at night, their lamplights followed the shimmering seed-tides in dives and loops.
It was in a grotto surrounded by wavy rock formations that the Jinsu ancestral shrine stood for centuries. Sheltered from wind, and surrounded by clicking and purring wildlife, Vritali Jinsu knelt before flickering candles and incense smoke. Her hands were clasped in prayer, beads hung around her wrists, and she bowed so deep her forehead bumped the cold stone floor.
"Transplanted ancestors of Jinsu, no ghosts have traveled further than you. Your relics were rescued from the cataclysm of the old world and placed here, in new stones. Show us that ghosts know more than blood and soil."
She rose, tossing her long, silver-streaked hair over her shoulder. One by one, the candles hosted an apparition, guided by words and ritual. These apparitions made her heart ache, though most she had never met. Among them, she recognized her grandmother, and her own mother, who had recently departed.
Vritali bowed her head again and allowed tears to dribble through the corners of her mouth. The ghosts, satisfied by the sincerity of their descendant's offering of beetle cheese and candied sporesuckle, dispersed. In their absence, Vritali enjoyed the sound of the howling wind and the red light of Alpheridies' eternal twilight.
Then, a presence behind her; familiar, yet wrong, like seeing a loved-one's remains in pieces at the morgue. The Jinsu matriarch whirled around and lost her breath at what she saw.
"Mama," Sabel wore a black flight suit and had yellow, synthetic eyes. A pale infant was swaddled in her arms. Vritali was certain she was having a twisted vision.
Sabel walked forward, boots clomping on the stone floor. She offered the baby up and Vritali saw its eyeless face and knew it was her grandchild. Vritali scooped it up and clutched it close. Sabel opened her arms and embraced her mother, but Vritali winced under the affection.
"I told you to never return here, Sabel."
Sabel slipped away from the hug and turned her back on her mother, "I know."
"You are supposed to be a Jedi – what have they done to you?"
"They didn't do this."
"And the child?!"
The infant cooed in Vritali's arms, oblivious.
Sabel walked away from the shrine and her mother, "I thought this would go differently."
"How could you think that?!"
"By being stupid."
"Sabel, please."
Sabel drew upon the Force and faded from view.
"Sabel!" Vritali felt the baby stirring and fussing in her arms, "Sabel, come back!"
Sabel fled into the shadows, back toward the skimmer ship she'd flown in on. Nemo waited for her there, braced against the wind with a hand on the door.
She couldn't look at him.
He laughed, "told you no one loves you. Love is a lie."
"Yeah."
The skimmer ship carried them off through the turbulent atmosphere, riding wind currents and making way to the nearest skyhook to be pulled into low orbit. Sabel didn't even have to be on the ship anymore for the whispers to reach her.
You're worthless.
You're a tool.
Your own mother gave you away.
But at least, now, you're useful to someone.
Act 1
Chapter 1 - The Dim Child
Senator Kayatonae was certain the winds of Alpheridies had driven her mad. It was not enough that she felt her bones ache under the crushing gravity of the massive planet. It was not enough that the red sky never changed. It was not enough that there were no seasons. It was not enough that ninety-five percent of her meals were some manner of fungus.
No, it was not enough at all, for these cheery Miralukans. They walked about their pagodas and gardens with dim smiles on their stupid faces, as if to say 'may this beautiful, repeating day of gale winds and bloody skies continue forever.'
"Your seven-thirty is here, mam," said Tzentchen, a spry, teal-skinned Mirialan with dark eyes and geometric face ink. Kayatonae had forgotten her assistant existed; that anything existed.
Kayatonae occupied herself by clicking her pen over and over, "what's the spec on the meeting?"
"Former Seeker Vritali Jinsu and her husband, Tomi Jinsu."
"Seeker?"
"Luka Sene, mam – the local organization of mystics, scholars, force-sensitives, that sort of thing."
"... the Jedi allow that?"
"They're more of a social club than a serious institution, mam."
Kayatonae added light chair-spinning to her pen-clicking regimen, "and what do they want with me?"
Tzentchen flipped through her datapad. "The seven-thirty just says 'dim child' as the order of business."
"... let's chalk that one up to a bad translation and get the kriff on with it."
"Yes, mam. Do you need anything? Shoomcaf? Some more sweet lace?"
Even in the sanctity of Kaya's office, the wind howled against the architecture of the building. The blasted Miralukans designed their rooftops to catch the wind and 'let it sing.'
Kaya shook herself back to reality, "... huh?'
"... I'll just let them in, mam."
Tzen opened the door and ushered in a pair of Miralukans in dirt-brown robes that almost hid the dark splotches of filth and soil; farmers. One was a man, the other a woman, and Kaya knew this only by the long braids spilling from the woman's low hood and the man's full beard, not by any difference in silhouette from their customarily drab and loose clothing.
Senator Kayatonae rose and went through the comforting motions of Coruscant congeniality, "please, have a seat! Happy to make time for my constituents."
"We are honored," said the woman, her voice breathy and tired, like she'd just finished a month of grieving.
"Our daughter," said the man, gesturing wide to the door, "she always lags behind. tati, come on! Don't be shy, Dao."
A dim child in brown robes peered halfway in, hiding by the doorframe. Tzentchen tried to be encouraging, "go on, it's alright – oh, such a cute name! We're here to help, Dao."
The child, whose name was apparently 'Dao', couldn't have been more than three or four. It had a long face and breathed through the mouth, which exposed a pair of buck teeth with a gap between them. Tzentchen reached down with her hand and the child grasped it, eliciting a quiet 'awwwww' from her.
The Senator stared at the kid like she was looking over the edge of a cliff.
Kaya clicked her pen one last time before tossing it onto her desk. "So! Is, uh… is he or she or they – is your kid sick? I can put in a request for a specialist to come out, there's lots of programs in the Republic for rural outreach."
The mother pressed words from her throat, "she is not sick, she is strange."
The Senator winced at the raw translation. "Pardon? I think my translator–"
"Strange," said the father, "strange, but well-loved."
Kayatonae squinted. "I don't understand what you mean, you'll have to forgive me."
There was a lapse in conversation. In the quiet—if the background howling of nonstop gale winds could be considered quiet—the child crawled up into her mother's lap with the urgency of a slug; then she sneezed, which spattered flecks of spittle and mucus on one of the Senator's framed cases full of navy medallions.
Dao's father, Tomi, looked embarrassed, at least. He picked up the frame and wiped it with his sleeve, "you were a pilot," he said, smiling and putting the frame back on the desk, "that's why we voted for you."
The Senator's smile was as thin as it was patient, "I was, yeah. Not much use for it these days with the Jedi handling everything."
"The actress who played you in the films based on your life was very talented."
Kayatonae smiled and wiggled her head like a happy bird, now that her vanity was being stroked, "Teeni Nix, yes – she was a better me than I am! Ha!"
Dao's mother placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, "we are here for other reasons."
He held her hand, "yes, of course. Our strange child."
Kayatonae made a face, "why do you keep calling her strange?"
Tzentchen clinked together the office tea set, "mam, I believe they are using low parlance to describe someone as strange in this way, I think means, 'special.'"
The Senator stared at Dao's soil-stained little fingers.
Special is a word for it.
Dao never turned her face away from the Senator. Like night birds, the Miraluka made it very clear when they were scouring your soul with those veiled pits they called eyes – they simply angled their face toward you and did not stop until whatever mutated slice of their near-human brains was satisfied with its analysis.
Tzentchen poured customary cups of hot mushroom tea. Kaya's constituents grasped them and bowed their heads in gratitude. The mother fed Dao some of hers, the little girl slurping from the cup but never touching it with her own hands.
"Tell me how I can help," said Kaya, as she took a sip of her own tea, which tasted of dirt and forest herbs. She'd actually come to like it.
The father placed his open palm on the desk.
"She can't stay with us. Send her to the Jedi."
Tzentchen frowned. "It isn't so simple, I'm afraid. There are protocols in place for that, and she would need to be assessed by a visiting Jedi –"
"I, ah – it's fine. Actually," the Senator smiled so much she felt her face cracking, or maybe that was her imagination, "I can take her with me, on official business."
"She is strange, we assure you," the mother wheezed.
"Oh, of that I have no doubt." The Senator was already putting on her coat.
"M-mam?" Tzentchen was gently shoved aside by the Senator.
"Bring the kid to the rails, we're going up to my ship."
"Mam, you can't—"
"Tzentchen, darling, I have at all times an exact mental ledger of the amount of political goodwill I am afforded by dozens of individuals and institutions with whom I have dealings, foremost among which are those I answer to on Coruscant, and so at this moment I am cashing the cheques and going home with a potential padawan."
She was standing much too close to Tzentchen, and she could see the girl avert her eyes and squirm as she hugged her datapad.
"Mam, I will, ah – call the docks, mam."
Senator Kayatonae yearned for the cold, comforting silence of space and her ship's warm interior, her favorite music, a hot soak in her sensory-deprivation capsule.
With those fantasies in mind, she left the office.
"Please forgive the Senator," Tzentchen cleaned up the tea set, "she has been away from home too long. Have your daughter at the orbital elevator within the hour.
Little Dao burped from the tea, slipped out of her mother's lap, and wandered after the Senator without any prompting. Tzentchen saw this and forgot what she was doing entirely.
"... she really is strange, isn't she?"
The mother nodded, as the father rose to supervise the child's wanderings.
Tzentchen looked at the mother, "won't you miss her?"
Former Seeker Vritali, being a Miralukan with no eyes, instead swallowed tears as they trickled down the back of her throat.
"Oh, yes," she said, "forever."
About forty-five minutes later, Dao was brought to the entrance of the space elevator. It was an enormous platform in the middle of a deep water lake, with cable sending freight and passengers up and down periodically. The high gravity of the Miralukan homeworld made this lightweight, long cable necessary for commerce – landing planetside was largely impossible.
At the elevator, Dao's parents embraced her. Tears were shed down dusty faces. Dao's heart ached. She grasped at her mother's braids, but mother pushed the girl away gently, "remember what I told you. Wherever you are, that is where you belong, little Dao."
Dao gulped tears. "Mama…"
The little girl looked at her father. She could see his aura as a dim blue and purple sadness. When he squeezed Dao, she hoped he wouldn't let go.
"Papa…"
They set Dao aside and went to their moored sky skimmer, making a point not to look over their shoulders. Dao trusted what she had been told.
Wherever I go, I belong.
Dao clutched the Senator's slacks and looked up at her.
"Okay."
Kaya offered Dao a hand, but the child refused, insisting on walking nearby and on her own. Once she wandered into the elevator with the Senator, Dao stood in silence in the corner.
"They'll be alright," the Senator said, wiping some dust from her eye.
"I know," said Dao, as flat as Miralukan shroomloaf, "they don't need me."
"That's… why would you say that, Dao?"
"I have seven brothers, all older than me."
"Oh."
And that was that. While Dao felt melancholy, she couldn't deny that even here, there she was. The winds still blew and the shrooms still grew.
Chapter 2 - Worms
Little Dao had never seen a spaceship before. To her, it was a large, thermal mass with dead shapes attached; she saw not in matter and light, but auras and energetic potential, as all Miraluka did. To Senator Kayatonae, the ship was all curves and composites, a beautiful, smooth M-class multipurpose vessel that was her ticket off of this windswept purgatory.
They boarded the ship together and as they did, Dao clutched the wall of the catwalk leading to the helm, as if the stationary ship might come alive and swallow her.
"We are inside of this animal."
"Dao, it's not an animal, it's a ship."
"What's a ship?"
The Senator smiled at the little mushroom bumpkin and offered her hand, "a ship is like, a flying thing people use to go to faraway places."
Dao took her hand. She trusted the Senator implicitly, because aurically, she was a bright gold flecked with white spots, just like her mother. A warm soul.
And as they walked to the helm, Dao saw another aura that was mostly gold with white spots. It rose to meet them like some benevolent specter, and it was so tall…
The Senator stopped walking, but kept hold of Dao's hand, "Ontoroch."
Jedi Knight Ontoroch's voice was a smooth, caf-and-cream baritone."Senator. Did you really think you would be sneaking offworld without an escort?"
Dao saw something bright and blue at his hip, a crystal entombed in some manner of energetic machinery. She decided to investigate.
Jedi Knight Ontoroch watched as this dusty, gangly little Miralukan groped at his lightsaber without a care in the world. "Is this child… well?"
He took a step back. Dao kept reaching.
"Stop," he commanded. Dao stopped and her arms flopped to her sides.
The Senator passed by him and clapped his shoulder, "she's strange."
Ontoroch narrowed his eyes at Dao. "Interesting."
"You know it."
The Senator fell into the captain's seat and flipped switches, turned dials, initiated pre-flight checks and opened comms to the elevator spaceport's flight control.
"Control this is pad two-niner requesting auto-launch."
Dao wandered toward the comms beacon on the ship's HUD. To her, the hologram appeared mostly as it did to people with mundane sight, as it was entirely composed of warm, photonic energy. She passed her hand through it as flight control chirped back.
"Brace for movement to launch bay."
Ontoroch smiled at Dao as she batted at the holo. When the ship lurched from its pad moving through the docking tunnels, Dao wobbled and fell onto the floor. He helped her up.
"Lets get you into a seat, little one. What's your name?"
Dao felt him take her wrists as he picked her up and placed her in a chair.
"I'm Dao."
"And do you know who I am, Dao?" He had to ask. He knew why the Senator had the child, of course: points for bringing a force-sensitive to the Jedi Council on Coruscant, as well as an excuse for a recess from her tour of diplomatic duty.
Dao scrunched up her nose and faced Ontoroch's aura head-on. She looked deeper than usual, her mind's eye gliding over the threads of his being, past the corona of gold and white spots, to the very smallest nuances.
A thread of red. Oh.
She remembered mother's song:
When we look at red
We avoid the eyes
We step with care
Red ego isn't wise
"Well," said Dao, avoiding eye-contact and dilly-dallying to buy herself a bit of breath, for she felt the weight of this tall fellow's expectations pressing, pressing, pressing – ugh.
He buckled her into the seat, and went to sit in his, but the watching didn't stop, she felt it, as he waited next to her for a reply.
Dao sucked her gap teeth, "I think you're a very important man."
Egos loved to be important.
She saw that red thread in his soul wriggle like a happy, glutted worm in rainsoil, "is that so? You may be right; important in what way, do you think?"
Senator Kayatonae rolled her eyes and Dao felt it. She liked the Senator.
"Well," Dao hemmed, "I don't know. Do you want me to guess?"
The Senator grinned, eyes ahead through the ship's canopy as they rose toward the launch bay, "I've known Dao for half an hour and I can tell she's too shrewd for you, Onto."
The Jedi pushed back into his seat, his smile patient and polite, "I sense potential in her, but the council will determine whether or not you've done a good deed today, or simply found a vague excuse to abandon your post."
The ship shuddered and metal groaned around them as docking clamps disengaged. The flight-control holo chirped:
"Tethers free, you may alight when ready. Please exit safely and promptly."
Kayatonae gripped the yoke and took command. As they passed into space, the helm fell silent. Dao was riveted by the sight of the stars ahead, and the vast, soothing void between them. She tuned into the gentle squawks and groans of the ship's shifting metal, the hum of the engines and power plant.
And then the most miraculous thing of all happened:
The ship rolled, the stars turning over, and through the ceiling canopy Dao saw her homeworld spread out below; it was a black sphere, troubled by swirling clouds, with a sliver of red marking the eternal eclipse zone that was the only spot where life could thrive between the scorching sunward side and its frozen opposite.
It stunned her. Tears streaked her cheeks. Too many emotions at once; awe, wonder, terror, loss, anticipation, excitement. She knew something wondrous was happening to her, and yet the smell of her mother's lichen perfume was still on her clothes, and the feel of her father's whiskers was still a morning memory.
That was when Dao shocked the knight and the senator by curling up into her seat, clutching her little fists to her face, and wailing like a night creature lost in the woods. She cried until her lungs burned, until her empty eyes swam with reservoirs of grief that nearly choked her as they poured down her throat and spilled over her chin.
Knight Onto felt his heart wrench at the tidal pressure of this girl's anguish. Surely the Council would have a miserable time sorting out this pitiful creature's mind, only to deny her entry into the Order. But as intense as the wailing was, it lasted no more than a minute, and once it was over, it was over.
"Dao," said the Jedi, after a respectful bit of silence.
Dao lay in her chair, buckled and bundled up, limp as a doll, "yes?"
"It's normal to feel… that way. You'll be alright."
"Maybe."
The Senator was focused on the helm, and an expert at keeping welled tears from falling, even under pressure, "control this is oh-eight-wampa-wampa-five signing off."
A crackle-chirp, "copy that oh-eight-wampa-wampa-five, have a safe journey."
The hyperdrive charged. Dao felt like everything around her was being warped and stretched into funny shapes. She smiled at it; it was pretty, seeing the stars slide around and dance against the canopy.
The Senator spoke with the brusque monotone she'd come accustomed to in her decades as a fighter pilot, well before being chained to a desk for the heinous crime of being a beloved war hero, "jumping in four, three, two, one…"
Dao flattened into her seat and watched as they entered a tunnel of wonders.
It was a long hyperlane. They told Dao it would be hours, so she might as well have a nap if she wanted. The Senator turned things over to the ship and assured Dao that it was perfectly safe to walk around and explore, as long as she didn't go into the cargo hold. Dao didn't much like the ship, though, and found its depths disturbing.
The hyperspace tunnel, though… that was fascinating to her. She spent most of the jump sitting in her seat staring out at the vortex of passing stars and colorful clouds of nebulae. She didn't know what she was seeing. Sometimes, she saw what she was sure was some kind of crystal castle in the distance of the tunnel, or motes of intelligent light.
"Where are we…?" she asked anyone who would listen.
The Senator returned to the helm in her slippers, a mug of hot tea in hand. The mug had the words Born to Die on them, and she blew on her drink before replying simply "hyperspace."
"What's hyperspace?"
The Senator sipped her tea and prepared to reply, but the Jedi cut in with his wisdom instead, "it is a way for us to travel between worlds quickly."
"Okay," Dao was not satisfied with that, "but what is it?"
The Senator sipped her tea again, "hyperspace is like… do you know those awful trench diggers, in the gardens back home?"
"Oh, yes. Little root eaters and mushroom stealers. They're hard to catch."
"Hyperspace is like that, it's like being a trench digger, sliding through tunnels and getting places fast."
"The trench diggers get eaten by rain serpents…"
The Senator laughed gently, "there's no rain serpents in hyperspace. We're safe here."
Dao gazed out at the tunnel beyond the ship's canopy. It shimmered and shifted, the clouds and stars forever undulating around them. Through the clouds, Dao saw a crackle of lightning and she pointed, "what's that?"
The Senator looked, "probably just shield feedback."
Jedi Ontoroch also looked, "yes. Most likely."
Dao saw it again and so did they. This time, the lightning was a series of tendrils, like the fingers of some creature moving dirt aside.
The Senator forgot her tea on the console and slid her fingers around the controls, "or something else. Systems check."
The ship's embedded droid recited readouts: "Power plant nominal. Distributors nominal. Shields nominal. Point-defense systems nominal. Hyperdrive is stable."
The Senator kept her eyes on the growing crackle of lightning that seemed to be following them at the edge of the hyperspace tunnel, "alright… well, keep an eye on things."
The ship's droid replied from its remote perch, "as you wish, captain."
Despite the ship getting a clean bill of health, all three of them did not take their eyes from the strange ball of lightning ahead. No one knew what to make of it, not the seasoned spacer, not the jedi knight, and surely not the four-year-old country child.
Mercifully, after a tense few minutes, it dissipated, and was gone.
The Senator exhaled and picked up her tea again, "never seen that."
The knight glanced at her, "not once?"
"Not once. If I was alone right now, I'd have just chalked it up to age and nerves and let it go. But you saw it too, right?"
"I did."
"And you too, right Dao?"
"Yes. It was pretty."
The Senator took another sip and grimaced at the cooled tea, "ugh."
Dao reached, "I like cold tea."
The Senator passed the mug to Dao and Dao slurped it down without a care.
Knight Onto rose slowly, "I'll brew another pot." He walked to the counter on the bridge, where a compact, luxury tea-steamer sat with hanging cups.
Senator got comfortable in her pilot's chair; her gut told her to keep a hand on the yoke.
Knight Onto hit the button to brew tea and stood in meditation, watching the water boil.
The ship's droid flashed red along the HUD and spoke:
"Hyperdrive instability detected. Anom-a-a-a—zzzzzzzzzzzrrrrrrrrrrr–"
Dao clutched her seat and whined. The holo HUD flickered, zapped, struggled. Around them, the stars lurched. Knight Onto abandoned his tea-making and leapt toward the helm, while the Senator strapped herself in. Everything around Dao was bracing for the worst, and she would have clenched her eyes shut if she could.
But that was never an option for a Miraluka.
Dao had to see it all. She had to watch as the ship ripped out of hyperspace. She had to watch as the stars tumbled over them. She had to watch as Senator Keo wrestled the controls into submission, brought them out of a tumble with the flight assist. She had to watch as Senator Keo pulled, pushed, and struggled with now unresponsive controls.
Dao had to watch as the ship stopped moving. Dao had to watch as a horrible shadow crept at the corners of her vision. A shock of blue nearby, a strange purring, and she looked to see Knight Onto standing with a length of vibrating energy in his hand.
"Nihil," he said, a whisper.
The Senator's eyes grew, "they're REAL?!"
"They shouldn't be this far from the rim."
The Senator threw off her slippers and rammed her feet into the military boots under her seat, "Jedi Knight Ontoroch, did we just get interdicted in hyperspace?! Did we get…" her wits churned, and coined something new, "... hyperdicted?!"
"Yes, it seems so."
Dao pointed at the vast shadow beyond their ship. To the knight and the senator, the little girl was pointing at the portside wall, and they saw nothing. But the Jedi felt a pit of dread in his gut, and the Senator, for all her combat experience, knew that you didn't interdict a small ship just to kill it for sport.
She hoped.
Chapter 3 - A Ship is Most Useful When it is Empty
The shadow slid around their derelict ship. The Senator and the Knight both struggled with the controls, but their systems were dead, save the reinforced life support. And they stopped trying, besides, when they saw what was coming.
In silence, it glided forward, with pristine control over movement. Its micro-thrusters blinked in and out as it made gentle adjustments to get closer and closer. Dao pointed in recognition of the thing she had only just learned about that day: "a ship!"
The Senator, despite the dread in the air, felt a twinge of wonder at the way that other ship moved. Dark matter thrusters, maybe? The whole thing was sleek, wide but shallow, and as black as the void behind it. As it neared, she saw the lights of the ship's canopy, and a figure standing at the helm of it.
There was a gentle clink of tempered plastiglass as one canopy bumped the other. Looking up, the Jedi, the child, and the Senator saw a pale-haired woman standing upside down in the gravity of her own ship. When Dao looked at her, she saw an aura of deep, miserable purple and blue; the colors of pain and sorrow.
Ontoroch kept his eyes above as addressed the Senator, "if you can restore the ship's systems, I'll fight off the boarders to buy you time."
"Buy me time to what? Push us to Coruscant?"
The woman above them held up a piece of paper. On it, in Basic, a word: HELP.
Kayatonae saw the woman had golden eyes, the sickly white skin of a spacer, and wore a black, skintight flight-suit of Republic make.
She grabbed her notepad from the console, and with a senatorial pen she hadn't used since her appointment to office, wrote a message in Basic and pressed it to the canopy for the Nihil woman to see:
COMMS?
Dao looked to Ontoroch, "what is she doing?"
Ontoroch checked his stance, "foolishness. Stay near me."
Dao wandered out from behind her chair and clutched at Ontoroch's robes. And that was when the Nihil woman saw the child through the canopy. She bared her teeth and slammed a lever on her console. All at once, their ship's systems came back online, with the holo-com chirping to life first. The Nihil woman yelled into a mic on her ship and they heard her:
"In five minutes, we're going to be slaves or worse, so LISTEN."
Ontoroch already reached for his seat straps, "take us out, Senator."
Kaya shoved at Ontoroch. "This is a proper SOS, Jedi!"
"It is a trap."
Senator Kayatonae put herself between the flight yoke and Ontoroch.
Ontoroch stared at her. Dao sensed a flash of red in his aura.
The Nihil's voice again: "LISTEN!"
Kaya leaned into the mic. "We're listening, talk!"
The woman ran a hand through her grey hair, and Dao saw her aura fade for a moment, like it was tired. "My name is Sabel. I am – was Nihil. I planned to just gas you out with breachers and chemicals, swipe your senatorial ship and flee to republic space on a stolen ID, but you all have a kid for some reason."
Ontoroch smiled, and it was more than a little smug. "So, even the Nihil have limits."
"NO," she shot back, "no, they do NOT. Two minutes now you'll find that out! We have one option: let me aboard your ship as a prisoner."
Ontoroch braced in his seat. "See? A trap."
Senator Kayatonae sighed, "stitch it, Onto – she may need asylum and the Republic acts in good faith. Sabel, come aboard – any funny business and this Jedi won't hesitate, okay?"
"Going," Sabel dropped her mic and pulled on a helmet, rushing to the airlock of her helm. A door on the side of the Nihil ship hissed open. The Senator watched as Sabel directed herself toward their ship with thrusters on her suit. Dao heard a clink through the hull.
"I want to fly in space," she smiled, wandering along as she followed the sight of the woman's aura crawling over the outside of their ship.
Ontoroch kept near the child. "Do you see her?"
Dao heard metal creak somewhere deep in the ship.
"Yeah."
Ontoroch kept his lightsaber lit and in hand. "Stay with Kaya, Dao."
He walked to the helm's door, ready to greet their guest. Bulkheads somewhere low in the ship opened and closed. They all waited for this Nihil to burst into the helm with flashbangs and plasma fire, but nothing came of it. Then the comms came alive, this time the ship's droid:
"Senator Kayatonae, our guest has voluntarily locked herself into the brig and randomized the key encryption with a slicing tool."
Ontoroch lowered his saber, "she locked herself in? Why?"
"Perhaps she is afraid of us, Knight Jedi."
Kayatonae turned back to the helm and sat down, hands quivering with welcome adrenaline. She glanced up at the Nihil ship, " as much as I'd love to fly that thing back for study, we need to jump out of here.
Dao crawled into her seat. She fumbled with the safety harness of the seat but it was a bit too complex for a child. "I need strappies, please."
Onto tore his vigilance from the helm door, lightsaber hissing inward and going to his hip. He strapped Dao in and sat down himself.
"Nothing good will come of today, Senator."
Kayatonae clicked the hyperdrive primer switch on, "yeah, well… we'll see."
Dao kicked her feet gently and felt the hyperdrive humming to life through the ship. She saw as more shadows and thunder built in deadspace ahead of them. She pointed.
"Ship."
The ship's droid elaborated: "multiple hyperspace signatures detected. One capital signature detected. I suggest evasive action."
"YEP," Kea wrenched the yoke down into a diving pitch. She kicked the safety brace off of the boost pedal and mashed it; everyone aboard was pressed into their seats as they blasted forward and down. As they dove, they saw that the ship emerging to meet them from hyperspace was an immense disc they had barely cleared even at top speed; its glistening hull was a wall they raced next to with no end in sight.
"T-6! Disengage the safety ceiling for every system! All pips to engines!"
"Please do not melt me again, Senator Kea, your mods upon this ship are already extremely illegal–"
"YOU'LL MELT IF IT GETS US OUT OF HERE!"
Engines screamed behind them: ship-launched fighters.
Ontoroch clenched his teeth. "Why aren't we jumping?"
"We're mass-locked, that thing is the size of a city!"
Dao imagined when she and her parents braided long grass after dinner to make twine.
"What's a grass-lock?"
The Senator's heart ripped at the child's calm, in the middle of an active theater of engagement, "Dao, kid… please."
The ship-droid had an answer:
"Mass-locking occurs when a smaller-grade hyperdrive cannot bore into hyperspace due to a mass-shadow cast on spacetime by a far larger stellar object."
The capital ship's directional scanner washed over their small M-class – they were like a little seed-bird being blasted by a rancor's roar. The scanner blast crackled over their shields with tremendous ionic energy, causing the whole ship to vibrate: this created a metallic scream that made Dao fold in on herself with a primal, seething series of sobs; her first panic attack.
To think just that morning she had been in her mother's lap.
Ontoroch's aura enveloped her. She was dragged from the whirlpool of her psyche by his mind's eye, and his warmth soothed her.
There is only the Force, little Dao. Be at peace.
Yes. It was all perspective, wasn't it? Life was simply weird. There's no need to panic. The roar of the SLFs gaining on them reminded Dao of the constant howling wind of home.
There is only the Force. That was the truth. So like any Miraluka, in discomfort, Dao found comfort, and her panic attack melted into low-grade anxiety as she clutched her strappies.
The first volley of plasma fire sunk into their shields. Kaya had eyes on the red light telling her the hyperdrive was inert. Finally, with enough distance between their ship and the capital beast behind them, the light went out.
"ENGAGE, T-6!"
"Hyperdrive charging."
Their ship pitched up and spun tight, evading a wave of plasma fire.
"Four, three, two… one."
Silence.
Dao opened her eyes, and saw them sliding through the quiet tunnel of the hyperlane once more. She was trembling. Ontoroch reached over and placed a hand on her head. It felt warm, and her trembles subsided.
Senator Kayatonae argued more with the ship droid about scorched wires and shield emitters, and then talked a great deal about her plan to completely change their route to Coruscant. They would be bouncing between systems at random, rather than surfing the lane all the way. As Kaya explained it:
"If they can hyperdict – I can't believe that's a thing – then we have to bounce lanes and do lots of stopping and starting, just to be sure. This trip just went from an hour to at least the rest of the day."
Ontoroch deferred to her expertise. Since their journey had just become longer, he thought it prudent to patrol the interior, and ensure their 'willing' prisoner was indeed secure. Little Dao followed, and while he protested at first, it seemed that their (hopefully) captive Nihil would not harm a child, and was locked in the brig, besides.
Now it was time to verify his assumptions.
Chapter 4 - Sabel the Scarred
The ship's brig was down one flight of stairs and through a sealed bulkhead. With Dao waddling along behind, Ontoroch placed a hand on the bulkhead and closed his eyes. Dao found this curious, because as he did this, she saw his aura turn misty and seep through the door.
She tugged on his robe. "What are you doing?"
Ontoroch opened the bulkhead, "sometimes when I focus my mind, I can sense whether or not someone means me harm."
"What if they want to hurt someone else but not you?"
"That's a good question. It's trickier."
They came before the brig's one and only cell, given the size of an M-class ship, and it was as compact as a closet, with a single fold-down cot, a water recycler, and a toilet. The woman in the black flightsuit was laying on the cot, staring at the ceiling.
"Hello, Jedi," she said, glancing up, "and child."
Ontoroch punched the passcode into the cell door. It didn't open.
"What did you do?"
"Scrambled the encryption – one more barrier between us, just in case you're one of those steakhead knights with a vigilante streak."
Dao couldn't understand most of what they were saying, but she did find herself clutching Onto's robes and hiding half-behind him; the cold, aching colors of this woman's aura made Dao feel sad and uncomfortable.
Ontoroch kept his palm resting over the pommel of his lightsaber. "Vigilante? If I was, cutting into this cell would be a matter of minutes for me."
"It's more of a psychological barrier than a physical one."
"How so?"
"Like the difference between breaking and entering versus pickpocketing."
"You have experience with both, I imagine."
"What gave me away?"
Sabel grinned, her smile pristine white – too white, like her skin. Her left canine shined gold, and Ontoroch noted the inked hexagonal tattoo just barely peeking over the jaw-tight seal of her flightsuit's neck cover.
"You said your name was Sabel?"
"Yep."
"Where did you come from?"
"Mek Sha," Sabel recited her bogus cover story like she had for years, "a long time ago. Bounced around once I hit my teens, started as a lookout for the Nahu Jet Crew, moved into smuggling, then wetwork, then independent contracts out around the fringes of the Republic."
"And how did the life of a petty criminal lead you to ride with the Nihil?"
"They gave me a taste of real freedom."
"Meaning what?'
Sabel sat up and glanced at Dao hiding behind the skirt of Ontoroch's robe. "Meaning – for instance – as Nihil, I don't live in a world where an armed religion brainwashes little girls into serving them."
Dao saw a little thread of gold amongst the blue and purple of Sabel's aura; it wound and thrashed like a drowning serpent, but never gave up.
Sabel spat on the cell floor, then rose to her feet and made a show of popping her lower back, "you like them young and dumb in the Order, huh?"
Ontoroch was no longer resting his palm gently on the pommel of his saber; his fingers clenched around it. "I am a knight, not a consular; all I know is that you are a serpent without true understanding of the Jedi."
"I understand that this poor kid is gonna be bashed into shape so the soft, needy 'citizens' of the Republic can get fatter and stupider while she gets a lifetime job of either disarming their slapfights or dying for a 'cause.'"
Dao saw a red thread in Ontoroch's aura flare up; a violent flame in a gentle sea of gold.
Ontoroch took a step closer. A field of translucent energy separated him from Sabel, but he knew he could muscle through it with his lightsaber if he wanted to – and he wanted to.
Sabel leaned back like a scarecrow in the wind, arms open and inviting. "Damn. I've never heard of a knight stepping to a degenerate like me; you need a refresher on the Code?"
"It's clear to me that you've studied the Jedi, the Republic, and its peoples in depth. You are attempting to play the role of a swaggering fool, when in fact you are highly intelligent. I suspect you are angry over a hurt from your distant past, likely the abuse of a father figure, and that has led you down the road which eventually deposited you here, in a brig, bound for Republic space, under the eyes of a Jedi Knight. Whatever you claim to have been running from nearly killed us."
Sabel stepped to him, now. Ontoroch saw her face better in the light; there were strange grooves under her dark-set eyes, a sign of stim-scarring from combat enhancers, maybe.
"Close," she said, and he could smell something medicinal and bracing on her breath, like her guts were sterilized in a hospital. "Mommy issues."
Ontoroch's discomfort betrayed itself through a twitch in his neck and a lifting of his chin. He pivoted the topic, "those fighters were firing plasma; they were shooting to kill, not disable."
"Yeah. I said, 'enslavement or worse.' What's worse than death?"
Ontoroch looked at her with naked pity, and took Dao's hand. As he turned his back on Sabel, he mustered as much sincere sympathy as he could.
"So many things are worse than death. You know this – that's why you're here."
Sabel did not reply. As Ontoroch lead Dao away, she couldn't stop glancing back at Sabel, couldn't shake a feeling of familiarity mingled with fear. Her last image of Sabel was the woman raising her palm toward Dao, her hardness faded into softness, and threads of green guilt flexing out of her suffering aura.
The bulkhead sealed behind them.
Ontoroch plopped Dao down on the floor of the helm's kitchenette. In silence, he boiled water, and made her a mug of mushroom tea. Dao was content to sit in the corner on the floor, feeling the ship's vibrations travel through her.
With a nice little cup of warm tea in her hands, she had been pacified for the time being.
Ontoroch checked on Kayatonae in her pilot's seat.
"How long?"
"Five hours. We're going to cruise around the edge of this solar system then jump back into another lane."
"Prudent. I will be meditating in the meantime."
"How's the prisoner?"
"Secure."
Kayatonae's focus was on the console of the ship; she was highly activated and in military-mode. "Good. And the kid?"
"Placid as a bantha calf," he smiled a little, "she responds very well to me."
"I get the feeling Dao is a pretty easygoing personality. You think she'll be a padawan?"
Ontoroch leaned, glancing around the corner to see Dao suckling the rim of the tea mug, and then… putting it upside down on her head.
"... I truly have no idea."
Back in the hyperlanes, the great disc of the mothership lurked through hidden trods and dark mists, like an angler waiting for his catch. On the bridge of this ship, a man in tall, polished boots, with a perfectly-calibrated watch stood watch over his crew as they operated the helm beneath him.
"Admiral Nemo," asked his most slavish and devoted servant, a bent Rodian with one eye and a maimed leg that forced him to limp, "do you think they will believe? Jedi are very perceptive."
The admiral ran his fingers through the immaculate fringe of his slicked-back, brown hair, and smiled over the bustling helm. Weapons were calibrated, orders barked, pit bosses took charge, and midshipmen were made to fear their superiors and the lashes they carried.
All was harmonious.
"I'm sorry," he said, turning to his maimed Rodian toadie, "did you say something?"
"N-no, master. No."
"So you're saying I was hearing things? Like a crazy person?"
"NO! No, please, forgive me."
"Forgive you? For what? For lying about speaking out of turn, or for questioning the long-term plans I've meticulously laid out for the past six months?"
Nemo didn't even look at his assistant, he merely brushed his nails against his vest and examined them to ensure they were absolutely correct.
The rodian buckled to his knees, "please, no! I am but a wretched slave to your will!"
"Get up, please. I'm not in the mood."
The rodian rose and leaned on the railing for support. "No lash?"
"No lash, stupid. Now go prepare my chambers."
"Yes master, thank you master! Thank you!"
Admiral Nemo dismissed him with a brushing-away gesture. The rodian limped through the doorway of the helm. Nemo pulled his riding lash from his belt and marched along behind. When the rodian heard those boot clicks, he shed tears.
The empty beauty of hyperspace couldn't hear his screams, of course. But the crew did, and that was enough. Now they all worked just a little harder, sweated just a bit more, and trusted in the vision of their Amiral more resolutely than ever.
Nemo returned to the helm, where he lifted his foot to plant it on the railing with a clank. A few eyes dared glance back at him from the pool of pilots and officers below. None spoke.
Admiral Nemo spoke loudly to himself, so all could hear, and none could claim the honor of being spoken to by their great leader:
"Of course it will work. Sabel is many things, but most of all, she bears my marks. I worked obedience into her with the lash of the mind and the body, the same as all those whom I love and trust the most. Give her ten years. This is the LONG GAME, you animals!"
He wiped a smear from his boot with a rag offered to him by an especially silent and attentive midshipman. Nemo tossed the rag to the floor after.
"The long game… that will set each and every one of us free."
Yes. The long game, little Nemo. The very long, long, long game.
Nemo rubbed at the chill on the back of his neck. The Ghost Engine always made his skin crawl when it smiled. He didn't like it when it smiled.
Chapter[1] 5 - Dawn World
Coruscant was at last beneath them. They followed planetary traffic through the lanes, obeyed tower chatter, and made toward the massive, curved arches of the Senate and its dedicated docking facilities. On approach, Kayatonae informed the senatorial customs brigade that they had a VIP prisoner in tow and would be requesting an emergency debrief with members of her office cabinet.
All of this was well beyond poor Dao, who had napped the whole way there, only to wake and see a world of wonders. Coruscant, to her, was a glittering gemstone come to life, bathed in pink and gold dawnlight.
"Ships!"
She pointed at a formation of capitol patrol fighters, gleaming white with the pink of dawnlight on them as they whizzed by.
Ontoroch smiled at her overflowing wonder, "you like ships, Dao?"
"I love them."
"What about your mother and father? Don't you miss them?"
"Yes. But they always told me I'd go away someday."
Ontoroch raised an eyebrow at this fresh weirdness, "go away someday? How so?"
"Well, they told me I was supposed to go away one day, to meet Jedi."
"It was wise of them to prepare you."
The ship clamped down in a docking bay and slid down into tunnels on a moving platform. Kayatonae, up until this point tense, focused, and fueled by caf from the kitchenette, sank into her seat and deflated, rubbing at her face and clenching her trembling hands into stillness, "this all feels like a nightmare."
"The day has been surreal, but the Force is with us; I sense destiny."
"I wish I didn't agree."
"Would you like my advice, senator?"
"Sure."
"Go to your family, before diving into business."
"This constitutes a state of emergency, Onto, I'm a senator, who just evaded aggression in a hyperlane."
"I understand."
"No one is safe!"
"No. No one is safe."
"Okay, Ive–" she stood up, throwing up her hands and laughing with exasperation, "- I've had my fill of Jedi vaguesplanations for one day, I will take your advice into consideration."
"That's all I ask," he rose with her, then helped Dao with her strappies.
Dao hopped down and took Onto's hand, then looked up at Kayatonae.
Kayatonae looked back, softening, "thanks for the leave, kid. It's been an adventure, and… good luck, with everything – you've got a friend in the Senate."
"Cool!"
They all walked together down the steps into the docking area, to be met by a group of soldiers in crisp suits with well-oiled rifles over their shoulders. Dao half-hid behind Onto, as this group was a curious mix of red and gold auras, and others of colors she'd never really seen before, and needed time to observe and understand.
One in particular, a fellow that to her appeared as a tower of blue and orange, walked forward and clapped hands with Kayatonae.
She smiled at him, "major."
"Senator."
"You wouldn't believe what we've got for you."
"Save it for the debrief," the Major looked at Dao, "looks like there's more pressing matters."
Dao shrank behind Onto.
The major tilted his head, "is that little farm kid even wearing shoes?"
The soldiers behind him laughed. Kayatonae punched his arm, "she's, like, FOUR, you jerk and it all happened a bit fast, and – debrief."
"Debrief, Senator, breathe."
"I'm running on fumes, yeah – gonna get to my office and have a sink shower."
"Get some deodorant from the commissary on your way."
Kayatonae gave the major a select finger as she walked away, "get sliced, Major Cranks - BYE Ontoroch, Dao, we'll be in touch someday!"
Dao waved, flailing her arm. Ontoroch held up a hand in farewell, then regarded the major and his soldiers, "I will be taking this child to the Council for assessment."
"Well how about that, then," the Major squatted down and put his hands on his knees like a grandpa talking to grandkids, "you ready to defend the Republic, little lady?"
Dao grimaced, "uhhhhh. Maybe."
The major's soldiers had a good laugh at that one:
"MAYBE!"
"This kid is a mood."
"She gets it."
The major rolled his eyes, "alright, well, I'd offer escort–"
Ontoroch shook his head, "that won't be necessary."
"- but you knight types always refuse, so, have a good one, Jedi, little soon-to-be-Jedi."
And with that, they boarded the senator's ship. Dao waved at the soldiers as they boarded and they waved back. Dao looked up at Ontoroch, "why are we not helping them?"
"Because the major and his soldiers have pride."
"What's pride?"
"It's…"
Dao gazed up at him expectantly. Ontoroch struggled to put the very concept of pride into words suited to a four-year-old child, "it's…"
"Is it the red?"
"The what?"
"The red."
"I don't understand what you mean, Dao."
"Sometimes people are red, or have little red snakes in them. Sometimes people are gold, or blue, or pink or purple."
"Do you mean your Miralukan sight? The way you see people?"
"Yeah."
He could not help himself, "do you see red in me?"
"Sometimes."
He very much could not help himself, "do you see it now?"
She scrunched up her nose, "yes."
Ontoroch looked away from her, but kept holding her hand. He felt rather exposed. "Well, we all have a bit of the red in us, I think."
"Not me."
"No? Not even a little?"
"Nope."
"How do you know?"
"My mom told me so, when she looked at me."
"And what did she see?"
Boots clomped down the stairs of the ship, startling Dao. Sure enough, there was Sabel, looking like a squinting cave creature in the light of the landing pad. She grinned at Ontoroch and Dao in passing, flashing her gold tooth, and the soldiers escorted her in cuffs toward the elevators.
Ontoroch leaned to Dao as the group passed out of earshot, "what do you see when you look at her?"
"Blue and purple, with some gold inside."
Ontoroch narrowed his eyes. "No red?"
"No. Only blue of sadness and regret, purple of pain, gold of good intentions."
Ontoroch scratched at his cheek and absorbed this information, then squeezed Dao's hand and tugged her along.
"Green of envy."
"What?"
"You."
Ontoroch did not make eye contact with the child. "Let's get to the temple."
Chapter 6 - The Laughing Master
It would be some days before they would have their chance before the Jedi Council, as the Republic was bigger than ever, and the Jedi Order could be argued to be at its zenith. A steady stream of initiates and force-sensitives moved through Coruscant on a weekly basis, and the Council had many matters to attend to, affording themselves only one prospective initiate per day to assess.
In the meantime, Ontoroch took care of her in the commons of the Jedi Temple, as a temporary ward under extenuating circumstances.
Over the three days he looked after her, Ontorch found Dao to be a pleasant and cooperative child. She ate when fed, without fussing over vegetables or meat. She asked for water when she was thirsty. She took naps when she was tired. There was a kind of almost supernatural dullness to her that did not seem normal for a four-year-old.
She did not even cry when the Consular came by to collect a sample for testing Dao's midichlorian counts. It was a pin prick and little else, but Ontoroch had seen children cry with fear at the sight of the needle. Dao simply observed the droplet of her own blood beading on her finger with passive interest, and she suckled it clean afterward.
The consular scolded her gently for it, calling it unsanitary, and sprayed on a patch.
When Dao was awake, she would often people watch, sitting in silence on the bench outside of their small bunk. For Dao, it was like observing a stream of color and activity, and it was mesmerizing. She could lose herself in the comings and goings of auras, languages, smells, and sounds she'd never known before.
To Ontoroch, it was strange that she could sit and stare unmoving for hours on end, but something in him said not to disturb her.
Sometimes they talked a little, when she asked sudden questions on walks:
"Why is everything here so tall?"
"Because people like to build toward the sky."
"Why?"
"The sky is beautiful."
"But if they build toward it, they block the sky for the people on the ground."
Ontoroch felt a pang in his heart, "you sound like a little Master."
"What's that?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Okay."
And that was it. During his meditations, she liked to sit near him and mimic him, and he couldn't help but wonder if her mother had been training her since birth, or something; it was difficult to believe a child could behave this way by nature. But their meeting with the Council would be the next morning, and it wasn't his place to wonder about such things.
The next morning, he rose and fed Dao a breakfast of her favorite mushrooms, with salt and aftspice, sauteed in a bit of suet. She then drank her water (on the hot side of warm, her preference), and took his hand. Together they walked the bustling halls of the temple, up grand staircases and lifts to the sky. When they reached the top, they were expected.
Dao knew now why the people of Coruscant built toward the sky. The Jedi Council chamber was bathed by pink-gold dawnlight; the entire wall opposite the ring of seated Council members was one great window, where ships passed by sometimes, and the city stretched out endlessly below.
Ontoroch bowed to the Council, amongst whom could be counted at least a dozen great masters, including of course Master Yoda, for whom the matter of new younglings was of great importance. Ontoroch released Dao's hand without a word; he trusted in that moment that the sage child would know what to do.
Dao wandered into the center of the Council Ring. To her they were a series of figures bathed in varying degrees of gold and white; not a speck of red to be found. They didn't interest her, but she interested them, particularly because she was wandering straight past them to go and place her hands on the far window. Ontoroch's heart sank when he looked up from his deep bow, only to see his charge ignoring the Jedi Council in favor of a top floor view of the city.
"Onto! Ship!" She grinned, pointing at an M-class drifting through traffic.
Ontoroch hustled as quickly as decorum would allow toward her, "forgive her, she is –"
Master Yoda grinned, "- a child?
Ontoroch made himself smile at his own foolishness and offered his hand to the child, "Dao, we're here to speak to the Council. Here they are."
She followed his lead back to the center of the room, then he backed away.
"Attached you are, to this one."
"I admit that I am, Master Yoda."
"Mm. Why?"
"She is unusual."
"Unusual, you say. Why?"
Ontoroch straightened under the Council's scrutiny, "perhaps the recent shared experience in the hyperlanes."
Another Council member spoke, "perhaps the death of your padawan."
Ontoroch was a placid pond, or so he imagined, but the ripples were obvious to every Jedi there, "maybe so, great Masters of the Council."
They had many insights for him:
"Blame yourself, you do."
"Uselessly, I may add."
"And with poor timing. This day is not yours, yet you nurse old wounds."
Ontoroch felt a scouring shame well up inside of him, and yet he knew even that was ego. With steadied breath, he did his best to let it all go, "Dao, I will be waiting to assist you when you finish here. Don't be afraid."
Dao waved, "okay. Bye, Onto."
It was that simple for her, it seemed to him, and he envied that, "bye, Dao."
Ontoroch backed out of the room, and shut the doors behind.
Now, Dao stood at the center of a ring of blazing gold. It was not scary, necessarily, as she knew by her sight alone these were people of benevolent intentions. But the sheer intensity of it all was like nothing she'd seen since she left her mother.
"Your mother. Who was she?"
Dao looked toward the Jedi Master's voice. It sounded soft, feminine, but distant, like a bird's call across a valley.
Dao had to think about it. "She was… my mother."
"Was? Not 'is'?"
"Yes, was, she's far away now."
Another master spoke, this one deep-voiced, but kind, "but, even if she's far away, she is still your mother."
Dao smiled, "oh, yes, that's true."
"Did she tell you secrets?"
Dao nodded.
"Tell us."
Dao looked around at the ring. Her mother told her this day would come. Her mother told her to be truthful, "well, she told me I would be here someday."
"Is that a secret?"
"I don't know."
The Council was silent. One of them passed around a tablet, which showed various bits of data, including Dao's midichlorian counts. None of the masters found the results terribly remarkable, but they were not especially low, either. By the numbers, Dao would make a well below-average Jedi, in terms of potential to utilize the Force.
"What was your mother's name, Dao?"
"... mother."
The smallest of the figures present, who by far had the gentlest aura of all to Dao, spoke to her directly, "miss your mother, you do."
"Yes."
"But, accept her absence, you also do."
"I think so."
"Mmmh. But, sad you are, to be apart from her."
"Yes, a little."
"Ah! But, excited you are, to be here."
"A little bit, yes."
That soft, feminine voice, "Dao, would you like to play a game?"
"Okay."
Dao saw the voice's figure holding a tablet, "tell me what I am looking at."
"Okay."
The Master holding the tablet saw a cup.
Dao felt the impression of thirst, and the promise of a drink, "maybe water."
The Master holding the tablet saw a bridge.
Dao felt the need to cross, and not get wet, "maybe water?"
The Master holding the tablet saw a tree.
Dao felt the need to grow and reach the sun, to spread roots to water, "tree?"
The Master put the tablet away, and smiled with sympathy, "good, Dao."
Dao looked out the window again, at that lazy M-class stuck in sky traffic. She thought briefly of Kayatonae.
Another voice: "Do you like people, Dao?"
"Yes. Even the red ones."
"Has anyone hurt you before?'
"One time, my brothers put me in a tree. I was too scared to come down. I cried so much. They came to get me and said sorry."
"Were you scared, when you were on the ship?"
"Yes, very scared, sometimes. Not scared, other times."
A few of the Masters looked between one another, then back at Dao.
"Do you know what a Jedi is, Dao?"
"Yes, they defend the Republic."
"Who told you that?"
"Ontoroch, the soldiers, my mother."
"Is it something you want to do?"
"Maybe."
That stern voice again, a man's, leaning in, "it cannot be maybe, Dao. It is a lifetime devotion, something you cannot undo. Do you want it?"
"I don't know."
One of the masters almost sounded exasperated to Dao, "and what do you know, child?"
"I don't know."
A lower voice, almost a whisper, "if she isn't going to take this seriously…"
"I agree. We can't–"
The chamber grew quiet, except for the rising chuckle of one raspy voice: Master Yoda.
One Master sighed, "Master Yoda, please."
He laughed even louder, rapping his cane against the floor once as if to contain himself. Dao found it quite infectious, and started laughing herself; it was the goonish giggle of a country girl. Together she and Yoda had the Council looking especially lost.
"Master Yoda?"
Yoda mastered himself, coughed into his green fist, and looked to his peers, "mm. Not good enough for you, is she?"
"The child is barely force-sensitive."
"Indeed, Master Yoda, and with our current initiates being the best and brightest our Order has enjoyed in millennia…"
"... surely you can understand the mercy of not throwing this poor child into a life she is not prepared or suited for"
"She would drown."
Dao didn't understand all of the words, but she understood the energy, and at no other point in her life had she ever felt more cold. It made the warm glow of Master Yoda all the more comforting, and he had much to say:
"Ahh! See the truth, I do! Midichlorians, mind-reading, tricks, lightsabers, robes, council chambers that touch the sky – these things, all, are Jedi, yes?"
The Council gave way to the old master's words, and he did not relent.
"Power, yes? The best, of the best, of the best? Sons and daughters of great Jedi scions, nothing less? Hmm?"
"Master Yoda, we admitted multiple average initiates from the far reaches just this week. This child's outlook is… dim, at best."
"DIM!" Master Yoda laughed again, "dim! Hope so, I do, hope so! A dim light, best to shine on weary eyes. A dim mind, no clinging, no clutching, no clever ideas."
"We are an order of heroes, Master Yoda, and with threats ever-mounting on the borders–"
"Heroes!" Master Yoda scoffed, "heroes, yes, grand, great heroes. Build more statues, shall we, hmm? Forget the wisdom of children, of emptiness, yes?"
The Council grew silent. Master Yoda looked upon Dao with what she felt was a mix of pity and fondness, "dim Dao, with Ontoroch you go. Take you, he will, to Rat Clan."
Dao heard one of the Council groan "yes, we see, now. Rat Clan would suit her."
Dao looked around, "what's a rat?"
Yoda giggled again, "you are, little dim thing. Beneath their splendor, they say you are, ah? But rats go low, where water flows, from which all life springs, unjudged, eternal. Understand one day, you will. Go now, through the doors, child, go go."
Dao didn't need to be told twice to go back to the doors. She mimicked Ontoroch, bowing, and then running to the doors and passing through.
He rose from his seat to meet her, "Dao. Where am I taking you?"
"Rat Clan!"
Ontoroch's heart dropped to his boots, "oh, no."
Chapter 7 - Rat Clan
The entire time they rode in Ontoroch's speeder to meet Rat Clan, Dao saw him through the purple throbs of pain; this was because he had a headache.
"Are you okay?"
He kept his eyes on the lane, "yes."
"You look sick."
"Well, Dao," he said, realizing it was useless to be anything but transparent with this child, "I have a bit of a headache."
"Why?"
"Because I'm worried."
"Why?"
"Because I was certain you would be… something else."
Dao tilted her head, "why?"
"Because I am a fool who engages with assumptions and fantasies, Dao."
She turned to the window and watched the buildings glide by, content to end her inquiries. In the silence, he wondered if she did that to make him feel even stupider, or if she was just a child who didn't understand.
"I was sure you would be sent to the Heliost Clan, under the eyes of Master Fen, to be nurtured into a great battle sage."
"That's what you wanted?"
She had him conversationally pinned in one question, and the worst part was he was certain, when he looked at her blank, eyeless face, that she didn't even intend it.
"Yes… that is what I wanted, for you."
"Rat Clan is better."
"How do you know?"
"Mother said I would always be exactly where I needed to be."
"Clever mom." He pushed the yoke and they descended to the lower levels of the city beneath the Jedi's temple. He glanced over at her again. "It's that simple for you, Dao?"
"Yes, it's that simple for me."
They dove beneath the clouds, where it was dark. Traffic became more sparse, and the tone of the city changed from eternal dawn and soft light to cold, streaking rain. But Dao's interest only grew. Now she saw neon billboards, graffiti, deathstick embers, slouched figures in alleys, and grimy windows at the bases of these great skyscrapers; a glimpse of something less blinding, more interesting.
They were not done. Further down they dived, and Ontoroch even pushed the speed limit some, given his understanding of the area's more lax security and traffic protocols. Dao laughed, delighting in the ride to the rock bottom of the Underworld.
Down through a vast duct they dove into the neon-speckled darkness. They passed through a telescoping rain duct that dilated open for them to pass through. Few other vehicles were in their lane; some lonesome freighters hauling cargo out of the world below, and the occasional personal speeder with tinted windows[2] .
Water streamed around this duct in great cascades all around them; trash and debris flowed with the rain down what was functionally an enormous gutter, which doubled as a highway for airborne traffic. Through this wet throat they followed strings of lights hanging from the ceiling, makeshift signs advertising wares Dao could not understand, and she saw people, too, milling about or relaxing in shanty towns along the filthy waterway.
At last they came to a stop, at a hub of activity that was a series of catwalks and homes. Some people's homes were creative, like repurposed cargo containers hanging by cables from the ceiling, or even better, the old cruise liner derelict on stilts across the waterway, with bridges connecting it to other homes and shops built vertically along and into the metal walls of this great underground world they were now a part of.
String lights were a favorite here, as it was dark, and lanterns of teal, blue, and green hung along bridges or in front of storefronts and homes. This world reminded Dao so much of her home; the smell of dirt, the sound of water, the absence of sun, and the howling of the wind through the ventilation shafts. She even saw people growing mushrooms and herbs out of repurposed drums or old speeder trunks. There was laughter, talk, yelling, arguing, and the occasional scream.
It was perfect.
Ontoroch stared ahead at this place, which he knew as The Underworld, and could not believe he was bringing this special child here. To him, it felt like an injustice. He was angry.
Dao pressed her face to the glass, "is this Rat Clan?"
"This is where they live, yes."
"I love this!"
Ontoroch glanced at her, "you don't understand where you are."
"It smells like home, looks like home… where is Rat Clan?"
Something crashed onto the hood of their speeder. Dao startled and flattened back in her seat, eyes up. Over the transparent dome of the speeder was a bright-eyed, spindly creature with a beak and furry cheeks. It wore a simple brown robe, and upon seeing Ontoroch, it grinned.
"Ontoroch in the Underworld?! BAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Ontoroch sighed. "Please get off so we may get out, Dimple."
Dimple leapt off the top of the speeder, landing on the nearby catwalk, "another youngling for Rat Clan! Feed us, feed us!"
Ontoroch opened the speeder up and helped Dao with her strappies. Dimple was already scurrying toward a nearby building built into the walls of the Underworld. It had blue and gold lanterns hanging before its entrance, which was a humble wooden door with a symbol of the Jedi order upon it. Dimple vanished into the door.
Dao held his hand and looked up at him, "what was that?"
"A Kowakian-Monkey-Lizard named Dimple. He will be… your peer."
"How do you know him?"
"He arrived last month," Ontoroch neglected to mention Dimple's attempt to steal Ontoroch's lightsaber, "along with a few other, ah… interesting younglings."
"Rat Clan is interesting?"
Ontoroch took a breath before the wooden door, "yes, I suppose it is."
He looked at her. She looked back up at him, dim and happy as ever. Her smile infected him and he found himself smiling back, "I guess you do belong here."
He opened the door for her, let her wander inside, and turned without so much as a farewell. He thought she might like it better that way, and it seemed he was right.
Inside, Dao saw a large room with wooden beams holding up the sides. There were woven-grass mats across the floor and people inside. Most of them had misty, confused auras and were small; she recognized them as other children.
The tallest in the room was an adult, with an aura of gold, complicated by dots of shifting pink and teal. That adult walked toward Dao, "hey, Dao."
"Hi."
"Master Yoda," the Jedi hiccuped, "told us all about you. Want to say hi to Rat Clan?"
Dao looked at the other children. To anyone else, the group would have been a collection beyond bizarre: a pink-skinned, blue-haired Zeltron man in Jedi's robes as the adult in the room; a stout little Gamorrean piglet about as broad as he was tall, with a gruesome scar across his face despite being so young; a juvenile Kowakian-Monkey-Lizard with a permanent eye-twitch and a strange implant in his temple; and a pale human child with eyes black as pitch, hair red as blood, and a blank look that made Dao seem expressive.
Dao crept forward.
The Gamorrean boy grunted, "who're you?"
"Dao."
Dimple held up four of his spidery fingers, "we're all four years old, how old are YOU?"
"I'm four too."
The Jedi leaned down and gave her a really serious, squinting look, "you're forty-two?"
"No no no–"
"That's too old."
"You're too old to be here!"
"You're an old lady!"
Dao looked at them all with confusion, maybe even a little fear, for the first time since her arrival on the dawn world. Then all of Rat Clan burst into laughter and she found herself laughing nervously with them.
"Don't feel bad," said the Jedi, "you'll get to do that to the next kid."
Chapter 8 - Halcyon Years
The galaxy turned and time marched forward. Senator Kayatonae told both her supporters and her colleagues in the Republic Senate about her experience on the hyperlanes. She was commended for her bravery and given ample leave, which she of course took. But the memory would haunt her for years. She was reassured by her friend and attache, Jedi Knight Ontoroch, that the Jedi Council was well-aware of the Nihil and their unusual ships, and that the matter was well-in-hand.
And that was enough for her, for any member of the Republic; if the Jedi said it was handled, it was handled, and that was often all there was to it. For his part, Ontoroch wasn't so sure. When he asked about the strange Nihil prisoner they brought back, he was told the woman was in deep custody, and there was nothing to say that wasn't the business of the Jedi Shadows and the Council itself.
But Rat Clan, down in the neon dark of the Underworld, didn't know or care about any of the high and mighty machinations above them. They had earthier lessons to learn.
Dao was now seven years old. She'd grown like a reed in the Underworld, kept lean by a diet of dried-mushroom broth packets and her favorite bartering item among her peers; bags of Fruity Freckles. Presently she squatted on a ledge overlooking the Gutterfalls at the edge of their community around the makeshift temple. It was where she was lookout, most days.
Dao dumped some Fruity Freckles into her mouth and chewed the rainbow of flavors. Laid out beneath her was the Gutterfall Commons, or simply, 'The Gut Huts' as the locals called them. It was a series of bridges and large loading docks where small freighters could bring goods to and from the Underworld. These freighters were a lifeline.
Dao saw one freighter coming in, and her vision let her see the cargo inside because the cargo was alive; it glowed green and outlined boxes of produce and vitamin packets.
"Whatcha see," grunted a voice nearby, before the familiar mass of Brunt whomped down next to her. The young Gamorrean was her age and about as big as most grown men already. Dao offered him some Freckles, but he declined.
Dao rolled up the packet and stuck it in one of many pockets, "people lining up real far in the Gut, waiting on veggies and vitamins."
"They gonna get it?"
"Yeah. Master Z did it I guess."
Brunt tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to dab at his piggish nose, before he took a big sniff of the air coming up from deeper underground, "smells less desperate, yeah."
"Wanna go down?"
"Master Z said we can't without him."
"Oren always does it."
"Oren's a stealthy snake, she does whatever she wants."
Dao saw a familiar, hazy-grey aura lurking nearby, "yeah, she does."
"... she's behind me isn't she."
Dao waved at her. "Hi, Oren."
Oren swore, "cut you, Dao, you're the only one who ever sees me!"
The black-eyed, red-haired gamine emerged from the shadows, the Force no longer concealing her from normal eyes. Brunt's belly grumbled.
"I could go for a snack…"
"I offered you Freckles!"
"Real food, you skinny luka-bird."
Oren sat down on a perch near them, but not too near, "could go down."
Dao had another look below. As vegetables and vitamins were handed out, she saw nothing but gold auras and grateful families.
"It looks safe… nothing but golds, so far."
Oren turned her head slowly to face them, "see? Golds, Brunt."
Brunt snorted, "Master Z said no. No is no, is no."
But then Brunt caught a scent. He sniffed the air, stood up, and his belly grumbled again.
"... fresh greens, cater oil, salt, roast tauntaun…"
Dao stood u, too, grinning at the promise of an adventure, "they always have a cookout when the aid packs come, Brunt."
Oren also rose, shadows enveloping her, "it's not like anyone rough is gonna get the drop on us, not with Dao on the job – and I'm watching her back, too."
"Brunt could beat up a Rancor anyways."
Brunt sighed, "I'm not as tough as you think, but…"
Oren and Dao leaned in, "but?"
"But, I love barbecue. A quick trip, there and back in a minute, ok?"
Dao grinned, "let's go go go, before Master Z comes back!
She swung down the ropes alongside the Gutterfalls, with Oren and Brunt just behind.
Down in the milling crowds, the mood was high, and getting louder by the minute. Hawkers called out from their stands and storefronts, with competitions for sign twirling and synchronized dancing bidding for attention and engagement. Dao did see the occasional red aura, but it was usually complicated by purple – the color she had come to know was associated with pain and suffering.
It did not make her any less cautious of red folk, but it did make her pity them.
"How about that guy?" asked Oren from the shadows, over Dao's shoulder. They all walked with candied lizard skewers and bagfuls of buttery popchaff.
Dao looked where Oren was pointing, and saw the usual bruised red and purple. It was a fellow sitting on the dock's edge, his feet dangling in the filthy, flowing water.
"He's sad and angry. Leave him alone."
"Brunt bit the head off his candied lizard and chewed between words, "Dao, you think we could learn how to do what you do?"
"Master Z says that talent is discipline, and discipline is talent. So, yes…"
Oren huffed, "no he said, talent is time, plus discipline."
"That doesn't sound like him, he usually burps and snores more."
The three of them had a good laugh. Dao was not scanning the crowd for a moment as she enjoyed her friends. When she focused her attention again, she saw a strange aura ahead, and grasped Brunt and Oren's arms to slow their approach. "Wait…"
Dao focused. It was a tall, slender figure, and it seemed too familiar. There was a little thread of gold at the center of it, but the rest of the aura was… was…
… translucent?
And then, Dao's heart skipped, when she felt the aura look straight back at her, in the same way she looked at others. She was exposed.
"Dao?"
The aura belonged to a pale-skinned woman in a black flightsuit, nibbling on a skewer of roasted vegetables. Her eyes were bright gold, as was one of her teeth. There was stim-scarring under her eyes, and an unmistakable swagger to the way she walked right toward the kids, like a lion getting onto the business of eating immobilized prey.
It was the woman from the ship, years ago. It was Sabel.
Dao felt her feet go numb and her heart dissolve into cold mist.
Brunt nudged her, "Dao?"
Dao's voice cracked, "run."
Brunt echoed, "run."
Oren was already dipping back, "run."
"RUN!"
They felt Dao's urgency and fear; it was the first time. And they were just as frightened by Dao being afraid at all as Dao was of the familiar figure. The three of them dropped their treats and sprinted back in the way only force-sensitive hooligans could. They vaulted back up ropes and ledges, along the precarious path around the Gutterfalls, and didn't look back until the wooden door of the temple was shut behind them.
Back down in the market, Sabel stood over the spot where the kids dropped their goods. She picked up the bags of scattered popchaff and stuffed them into waste bins. After dusting her hands on her thighs, she walked back toward a secluded spot near the water and made a holocall.
She lit a deathstick as she waited, the faded blue of the holo and the red of the flame mingling in the dim light to illuminate her face. Her leg bounced with anxiety
Finally, the call picked up, and there was Senator Kayatonae in her bathrobe, drink in hand, looking very much put-upon. "Yes?"
Sabel exhaled smoke with her reply, "you made a promise. Did you forget?"
"I make a lot of people a lot of promises, Shadow, I'm a kriffing politician. Be specific."
"You told me you'd keep that kid out of the Order for me, and I could not have been more explicit about my feelings on the matter."
"Tits and neon, Sabel, I thought you knew."
Sabel flicked the butt of the deathstick into the filthy river, "knew what."
"Well, okay – HEH," Kaya poured herself a fresh drink and flopped down into a deep sofa, "let's settle in for this, because it seems like I'm not the only one with memory issues – point one: I told you no promises. Point two: my guys in the Temple lab did their part and swapped out a midichlorian test, so if they accepted her even though she has the midichlorian numbers of a force-sensitive rock parrot, then that kid's either super charming or really lucky."
Sabel clenched and unclenched the muscle of her jaw, "this wasn't the deal."
"Point THREE: you ducked out of your scheduled debrief three years ago and have been hiding out in the Underworld out of contact this whole time, so forgive me if I'm caught slightly off guard by this sudden call. Did something happen? You see the kid or what?"
Sabel crouched down by the water's edge and clenched dents into a pipe along the ledge, "yes, just now. Same old clan as I was when I was a kid, same master, the same, the kriffing SAME, KAYA!"
"Hey, calm down, I hear you–"
"NO, you DON'T. They put her on the same cursed path as me and now she's doomed, and I have to stop it, I have to talk to Master Brijit, we'll change it…"
"... okay, Sabel? Deep breaths. What is this kid to you, anyways? Is she… is she yours?"
Sabel rubbed at her face with her hands like she was trying to peel it off.
"Yes," she admitted.
"... well that complicates things, Sabel."
"I know."
"Kind of makes you an unreliable asset, Sabel."
"I'm fine."
"You're clearly, clearly not. You skipped out on debrief. Your superiors – and even I know this – have you on the thinnest ice, Sabel, the thinnest ice, that ice is so thin it's like a transparent piece of wet paper, it's so thin you don't even know it's there, but it's there, holding you up, and you'd better get off of it, really soon."
Kayatonae terminated the call.
Sabel dropped her holodisc with a clatter. Most of the people in the Underworld, at least, knew to give a woman with crazy eyes and scars a wide berth. She was able to brood in peace.
Chapter 8 - A Debrief Delayed
In the years after the incident in the hyperlanes, Ontoroch had been reassigned to oversee the operations of the Coruscant Civil Police, or, CCP as they were usually called. The CCP had a reputation for righteous enforcement of Coruscant planetside law to the very letter. After his first six months collaborating with them, he began to realize the Jedi were not nearly as inflexible as he'd thought as a padawan.
Of course, maturing into a knight and soon-to-be master, he'd realized the will of the Council was not rigid or simple decades before. He just found himself thinking often about his early years, since his run-in with Dao; a child whose manner still struck him. He had not gone to visit her in the Underworld, as that would be a dereliction of duty and wildly inappropriate, but his peers remarked upon the impact she'd left on him.
He could not help his curiosity at her progress, but knew in his heart that one day, he would see her take on the mantle of a fully-fledged Jedi, and he would be first in line to congratulate her and welcome her into the fold as a sister-in-arms.
"Or perhaps not," he said to himself, as he turned his speeder toward the Senate district residential condos, where some unfinished business lay, "perhaps she will fail, and die. Or perhaps she will be sent home inevitably. Perhaps she holds dark secrets I cannot imagine, and she will do harm to others. All of these things are possible, and I accept them. Not all things are within my control."
Ontoroch glanced at the plain-paper folder in the passenger seat next to him, and the seal of the Jedi Council in ancient wax upon its ties. Within, there were answers, and they were not for his eyes unless an old friend permitted it.
He could not even ask the favor without violating strict protocol. And he was dying to know what was contained within the document, as he had the curse of being a Jedi: he had foresight enough through the Force to know they pertained to the incident in the hyperlanes, and a sense of duty strong enough to respect that this debrief was for Senator Kayatonae and her emergency cabinet, which did not include him.
It was only by the grace of the Council that he was permitted to act as courier, given his connection to the incident and the Senator herself.
He arrived at the third floor of her home, where a vast garden bigger than most common households overlooked the city's busiest commercial sector. Privacy screens blocked scanners and camera drones, causing the whole garden to have a kind of shimmering veil around it.
A valet droid approached him as he stopped the speeder and collected the documents.
"Master Ontoroch, it has been too long."
"Not a master yet, T-6, but thank you," he passed the keys.
"Forgive me, Jedi Knight Ontoroch, I meant it only as a gesture of familiarity and respect."
"It's nothing, T-6. I won't be long, so keep it warm."
"Of course."
Ontoroch walked through the privacy screen and felt his skin prickle from the harmless energy of it. What from the outside appeared to be a solemn, quiet garden just waiting for a solitary soul to stride through it and enjoy the flowers, was now revealed to be just one area of a lively brunch social. There were countless bodies with drinks in hand, all wearing jewels and semi-fine, brunch-grade social clothing. Smiles abounded and there was sparkling conversation to be had by all in attendance.
Ontoroch was surprised by the suddenness of going from quiet and wind to bustling conversation, but the shock passed, and he glided through the crowd with ease. All present nodded or half-bowed to him in passing. He did not smile outwardly, even if he smiled internally.
He never grew tired of the quiet validation of simply being a Jedi in an ordinary Republic space, where he was seen as so much more than a fifth-year knight who was lucky to be assigned as an guardian to a notoriously difficult Senator early in his tour of duty. Looking back he knew the Council assigned him to Kayatonae because they were aware the two would get along.
Two self-involved mavericks, getting into trouble.
Enough. Focus.
Skimming through the crowd, it wasn't hard to find Kayatonae. As usual she was at the center of a group that would be better described as a small crowd, telling one of her war stories at the behest of some socialite or another.
Kayatonae, flute of sparkling wine in one hand, wove a tale with her usual gusto:
"... Sindril came down from above, just in an absolute monster dive. By now I'm thinking he has no idea what he's doing, because I've only seen this kid fly a fighter twice – in SIMULATION – and both times he seemed to think the damned things were missiles and not ships, just full-throttle, knuckles to the HUD everywhere he went. If he wasn't flying with flight assist on, he'd be careening into asteroids the next system over!"
Ontoroch stood at the edge of the crowd, clutching the documents. He did not wish to interrupt, and so did not make his presence more known than it already was. That was when he sensed a familiar presence, and a gentle hand on his shoulder. Tzentchen.
"Ontoroch?"
"Tzentchen," he bowed to her gently, "it has been some years."
"It's wonderful to see you again," she smiled at him, eyelashes batting.
Ontoroch averted his eyes and did not let himself entertain the thoughts he was entertaining about her and her pretty face and slender – no. He had separated himself from Kayatonae's detail for many reasons. He did not tell anyone that Tzentchen was chief among them. "I've come to deliver a dossier from the Council."
"The Senator will be thrilled," she leaned in and he could smell her gentle perfume, "this is, ah… pertaining to…?"
Ontoroch simply nodded and stared anywhere but where she was.
Tzentchen rested a hand on his arm and made an attempt to look into his eyes, "thank you for bringing it. She doesn't like to talk about it, and it's been a challenge."
Ontoroch allowed the touch, and let the pangs of desire pass through him, unattended to; his composure was not affected. "I can imagine. It was a traumatic experience for us all."
"And that poor little girl, I never heard what happened to her – was she accepted?"
"She came through the encounter with surprising resilience."
"What a sweet little Jedi she must be."
Ontoroch did not dwell on the blue lights and filthy gutters of the Underworld overmuch. He simply smiled politely and agreed, "indeed, I'm sure she is."
"Aren't you her teacher? I would have assumed–"
Ontoroch failed to mask the bitterness in his tone, "I find it is best not to assume anything, when it comes to Jedi affairs."
Tzentchen seemed to remember her place, and retracted her hand, only to rub it and gaze down at her feet. He found her as demure and petite as ever and he felt the pangs even more in that awkward silence. "Especially for me," he added, to ease the tension and comfort her,"I make a fool of myself all the time, doing that. Assuming things."
Tzentchen angled her eyes up at him and smiled gratefully, then looked past him, over his shoulder. Ontoroch was so absorbed by her that his Jedi reflexes did not warn him of the Senator's playful punch to his shoulder.
"ONTO!"
She was almost certainly drunk.
Ontoroch laughed it off and turned to face the Senator. He bowed, "Senator Kayatonae."
Kayatonae was already hugging him and spilling a little wine on his robe. "My dear friend in the Order, everyone! Let's not embarrass him further, shall we?"
The crowd had a good chuckle at that, and it seemed conversations had shifted focus to allow the Senator to attend to what was obviously official business.
Ontoroch did not remark upon the fact that he felt her pistol holstered under her blazer.
The Jedi straightened himself and ignored the seeping wetness (and astringent smell) on his shoulder from the spill. "I would like to deliver these to you in private, in your office, as I was instructed to."
Kayatonae glanced at Tzentchen, then at the documents in Ontoroch's arms. Kaya pointed at the papers, "is that…?"
Tzentchen blurted, "it is, mam. Go on, I'll keep them busy out here."
"You're a bowl of Dantooine cream, Tzen. Muah."
The way that slender Mirialan attache gazed doe-eyed at Kayatonae in that moment made him feel a powerful wash of complex emotions; jealousy was at the top, the pettiest emotion of all. He let it all go at once, and his composure was not affected. But it seemed to him something had changed in the past three years. Ontoroch cleared his throat and nodded to the Senator.
"Shall we?"
Kayatonae tipped back the flute – which contained an aged Alderanian wine worth more by the glass than most Republic citizens made in a month of honest labor – and forged ahead.
"Throttle up, good Jedi. Let's go."
Having been formally invited into the Senator's office for an intelligence breakdown three years in the making, Ontoroch thought he did an excellent job of presenting a stoic front while he squealed internally in anticipation. He stood near Kayatonae's desk as she used an antique letter knife to cut the seal and pour the classified documents across her desk.
"Alright," she mused aloud, while pouring herself a little glass of water to shake off the morning's drinking, "let's see…"
Ontoroch resisted the urge to lean over her shoulder.
The Senator shuffled through pages for minutes, "boilerplate, disclaimer… your eyes only, blah blah blah…oh, here we go. The Nihil prisoner known as REDACTED was REDACTED on the dates REDACTED and reassigned for REDACTED by the REDACTED. Wow. Compelling stuff."
Ontoroch stopped pretending to be disaffected and walked to the desk. Senator Kayatonae handed him the paper breaking down the processing of the Nihil prisoner over the last three years by the Jedi Council. "This doesn't make any sense."
"Looks like they can't disclose everything. There's an interesting word in there, though."
"What?"
"'Reassigned.'"
Ontoroch's eyes narrowed, "a spy?"
"We can't know for sure. But whoever prepared this for me is winking at us."
"There's nothing we can do but speculate, and speculation is useless. It's possible they gave her an excellent offer to return to her masters after processing and interrogation to act as a spy for the Republic."
"Could be. Could also be we helped rescue an agent in over their head."
"It's possible. But despite Sabel's–"
"We don't even know it's Sabel."
"- we don't know it officially."
"Right, but, like you said, speculation is useless – fun, but useless."
"Fine. What else is in there?"
The Senator skimmed the pages, of which there were about thirty, and offered some to Ontoroch for perusal. They noted some pages that were so heavily censored they looked like enormous bar codes. But there was one set of pages that was clear as daylight:
"Here we go," the Senator stood up, smacking the pages and grinning at Ontoroch, "the Corps of Engineers formal assessment of Nihil technologies based on the debriefing report submitted by Jedi Knight Ontoroch, REDACTED agent, and Senator Iso Kayatonae as cross-referenced with REDACTED salvage operation four-six-bantha-gamma… redacted. Heh."
"Let's see it."
Ontoroch pored over the pages with her, with some confusion. He hoped that the Senator was able to make more sense of the images and technical breakdowns. Much of it was written with such specifics as 'hyperdrive energy topography' and 'experimental mass-locking anchors' and 'hyperspace sub-dimensional disintegration weaponry' and 'dark-matter tri-cycle ring reactor arrays', etc. The Knight scratched at his cheek.
"Do you understand any of this?"
The Senator took a sip of her water, "I get the broad strokes."
"Which are?"
The Senator grinned at him, "the Nihil operate the way our pirates operate, but on a level that implies they've repurposed ancient and/or alien tech."
"Educate me, Senator, I am not a spacer."
The Senator spread out the pages and took a blank paper from her desk, then clicked a pen to draw a diagram for Ontoroch. "Stay with me. So, in fleet doctrine there's a few different ways you can fit a ship for combat. One of the biggest factors in a ship's performance is mass, with power production and distribution a close second."
"Why is mass more important?"
"Mass bends spacetime, spacetime is linked to hyperdrives and jumping. More mass means more energy required to jump. And more mass, on a basic level, is how capital ships cast a shadow over smaller ships within a small radius and interfere with their hyperdrives."
"I see."
"Mass affects pitch and yaw, it affects your thruster drift, it affects a lot of stuff."
"And this relates to our Nihil how, exactly?"
"The Nihil have power plant technology we can't even fathom. How they came across it is anybody's guess, but they're building around it and playing to it at the extreme. This makes their shields so hard and high-capacity they're all but impenetrable. It means they can totally rely on a shield defense and then fly stripped-down, extremely nimble, low-mass ships supporting a capital anchor-ship. But based on what's on this page?"
Ontoroch tilted his head, "they would destroy what limited forces we have in a naval confrontation."
"A hundred times over, yes. Republic fleet doctrine is mixed, with most of our ships doubling as merchant marines; they're fielding modular setups that can flex into an array of roles, given the shifting needs of our continuous expansion."
"We're not specialized for combat. They are."
"Yes, in addition to possessing viciousness and a technological edge."
"All of this is terrifying, Kayatonae. Why are you grinning?"
Kayatonae slid the papers back together and picked up her comms contacts, scrolling through the lists until she reached a category Ontoroch saw was labeled Old Guard.
"I'm grinning because overspecialization leads to blindspots and weak points, and my old friends in the military love strategizing."
"But, what is our strength, even if we could mobilize something against them?"
Kayatonae glanced up at him, still flipping through her contacts and already lining up meetings, "the Jedi, obviously. From the looks of this debrief, your Council is already ten steps ahead. I'm just bringing up the rear and trying to be prepared with backup."
Ontoroch swallowed his frustration with her gung-ho enthusiasm for military conflict. "With all due respect, Senator, I fail to see what the Jedi are meant to do against an overwhelming naval force."
"Infiltration, boarding action, sabotage."
Ontoroch laughed involuntarily, then cleared his throat. "I see. How simple."
"Big power plants make big booms, Ontoroch. That's what our good friend 'Agent Redacted' found out for us."
"I would not rest all of our hopes upon someone who allegedly spent so much time among the enemy. For all we know he or she has been compromised and is purposefully feeding the Republic false intelligence to provoke a predictable military response."
Senator Kayatonae stopped her planning for a moment and stared at him flatly.
Ontoroch looked away. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You really need to read closer, Ontoroch."
Kayatonae flipped through the pages, to one of the heavily-censored ones covering the actions of a certain REDACTED AGENT. She slid her finger down the page and tapped at a particular phrase.
"Now, I'm not a Jedi, but… what do you make of this?"
Ontoroch picked up the paper and read what she pointed to. His eyes widened again.
"... the redacted agent was cross-examined by a Council-appointed consular team specialized in discerning actionable data from deception or memories corrupted by strong emotion. Their results revealed REDACTED data relevant to the REDACTED wing of the Jedi Council's ongoing operations, as well as data pertinent to the Republic military and its representatives within the Senate."
He remembered the yellow eyes, the pale skin, the strange aura of Sabel. There had been a kind of sickening power about her, something that went beyond technology, and merged with the Force. "... who was she?"
"Not for us to know, seems like. What do you know about Jedi spies?"
"Nothing. I didn't…" Ontoroch's mind reeled, "I had no idea the Order participated in such grey areas, such… low and dishonorable 'operations.'"
Senator Kayatonae frowned at him the way a parent frowns at a child who had believed in their imaginary friend for a year too long.
"Honey, no organization, Jedi or not, can function without a discrete intelligence apparatus."
"I understand the truth of your words and I accept them."
"Are you sure? Your horns are doing that flexing thing they do when you're upset."
Ontoroch, who was indeed a Zabrak, took a moment to center himself. Sometimes he was not even aware of the tension in his muscles.
"I thank you for including me in this, Senator. But I must return to the Council."
"Don't blast off at them because you're mad spies exist."
"I am not mad–" he took a breath, and realized he was, indeed, mad.
Kayatonae furrowed her brows and gave him a look. "Uh huh."
Ontoroch bowed and excused himself. "I have simple questions. That is all."
"If you say so. Fly safe, Onto. We'll be in touch?"
"Perhaps."
And with that, he left the office and walked down the hall.
Tzentchen had been waiting in the hallway for him and rose with a smile. "Shall I walk you to your speeder, Onto?"
"No."
She frowned, surprised. "Oh, ah– of course."
Ontoroch softened. "No, thank you. I am in a hurry, forgive me."
"Please, go on then. Jedi business."
"Indeed." He was already out the second door, into the gardens, weaving politely through the crowd, and swiping his keys from T-6.
"Farewell, Mast– erm, Knight Ontor–"
The speeder dome shut and he sped off into the lane, toward the Jedi Temple.
Chapter 9 - Master Z[3]
The Zeltron called Master Zigola Zoan (or, 'Master Z' as he liked to be called), was a stocky gentleman with a bit of a gut, taffy-pink skin, and bright blue hair. He had a lightsaber on one hip and a flask on the other. He wore gold chains that hung neatly over his blue chest hair, glittering rings on multiple fingers, and a gilded Jedi robe with a gold sash.
Today he was perusing the gift shop in the public commons of the Jedi Temple. He brought a flip lighter to the counter, one made in the shape of a lightsaber hilt. It made a distinct kssssshnvvv sound on ignition and he liked it. The reception droid, a luxury bot made to look and sound pleasing and feminine, bowed to him on approach.
"Master Zigola Zoan, what is known?"
Master Z tapped his datapad on the payment terminal. "Nothing today, B-9."
"Getting some sun?"
Master Z squinted at the growing dawnlight of Coruscant beaming through every window, then tapped his shades down over his eyes. "I always think I miss it, then I get up here and get sick of it in an hour."
A tour group was milling through from the edges of the Republic, and he saw a group of little mixed-species kids that reminded him of his Rat Clan down in the Underworld. One of the kids was staring at him.
"Are you a Jedi?"
Master Z grinned, "yeah, I'm a Jedi Master."
"You don't look like a Jedi."
"Oh yeah? What's a Jedi look like?"
"You look like a thug."
One of the parents of the tour group grabbed the kid's wrist and yanked him back in line. They spared Master Z an apologetic look. "I apologize. I know you're just here to do a job."
Master Z laughed gently. "A job? Yeah, you could call it that."
"You know, if you're allowed to do side contracts, I have a friend in Uptown who is in the market for a Jedi impersonator at a birthday party. Free food, free drinks, tips?"
Master Z grinned. "Free drinks, huh? Before, after, or during?"
"After would be best."
Master Z flipped his business card out of his robe sleeve and offered it.
The parent lifted it and squinted:
Master Z
Very Authentic Jedi
Deluxe Force-Sensitive
DatComms: 000979-86+102
"... thanks."
"Don't mention it," Master Z wandered out of the gift shop, ruffling a kid's hair along the way, "you keep these sharp little cookies out of trouble, yeah?"
He walked out onto the promenade and used his new lighter to puff up a rolled smoke, well away from any of the tourists or public officials on their way into the Jedi Temple for Republic business. It was a pleasant early morning rest under the sky, with fresh air that wasn't recycled through aging vents. And it was cut short by a disturbance in the Force.
Master Z felt fear. He felt his younglings not just afraid, but terrified. He dropped his smoke and sprinted with force speed to the Master Lift. It was an old stone door with no visible paneling or buttons. He willed it open by the Force, as only Masters in the know could, and stepped into a tube.
Inside the tube he stood in a capsule. The capsule had finer controls and he input the position of his temple in the Underworld. Only through the Force was he able to stabilize himself within the tube and prevent the G-forces from splattering him against the ceiling. Within thirty seconds, he was at a stop, and he willed the next set of stone doors open.
As soon as he stepped out into the Underworld near their temple, he felt it. He felt a presence he had not felt for years uncounted.
"Sabel…?"
Dao and her friends hid behind an overturned offerings table. Incense and pickles were splattered across the foyer. Dimple had a blaster trained on the temple door.
Dao hid behind the overturned table and felt her limbs trembling. "Dimple, where did you get a gun?!"
Dimple's grip on the blaster was shaking. "Found it!"
"Where?!"
"Doesn't matter!"
The kids, of which there were about a dozen, remained in their positions with all eyes on the door. Brunt was ready right by the door with his garden rake, and Dao was sure he could drop someone with it if he needed to; the young Gamorrean's arms were bigger than her waist.
Someone knocked at the temple door.
Dimple screamed and squeezed off a volley from the blaster at the door.
"WHAT THE GUTS ARE YOU KIDS–"
"MASTER Z!"
Every little youngling of Rat Clan ran toward the door, some of them crying with the fear that had spread after Dao and her friends came rushing back with tales of sinister, slender ladies out to kidnap little Jedi kids.
"What is GOING ON in here?! Alright, settle down, let me in! STOP PULLING THE ROBES, this is RODIAN FIRESILK."
Master Z pried the kids off and examined the damage done to the foyer. "I'm sorry y'all are scared. I think I know why, but I gotta go check it – DIMPLE."
Dimple dropped the blaster and held his hands up. "Noooo~!"
"Is that a GUN?!"
"... noooo~!"
The blaster levitated up into the air and toward Master Z. "Kids, I told you, keep what you scavenge, sure, but no blasters."
Dimple wailed and hid behind the overturned table.
Master Z took the blaster apart and dumped the pieces into a nearby trash basket. "Guess who gets to clean up the dojo?"
Dimple rose up to face the music. "S-sorry, Master Z."
"I'm glad you're sorry. Don't do it again."
Dimple gazed hopefully at Master Z.
Master Z furrowed his brows. "Dimple, are you kidding me? You still have to clean up."
"NOOOO-HOHOHO!"
"No complaining!"
Dimple sniffled. "I accept this punishment with… grace."
"Good kid. Alright, the rest of you? Stay here and help Dimple."
The kids all whined. Dao spoke up.
"I'm sorry Master Z, I think I frightened everyone with what I saw."
"And what'd you see, Dao?"
"A big red, a familiar one… I saw it before when I was a little kid, on that ship."
"Where'd you see it?"
"Down by the gut huts."
Brunt sighed. "It's true, Master Z."
Master Z's expression curdled. "I told you kids not to leave the temple while I was gone, let alone go down to the docks by yourselves. Who all went?"
Oren emerged from the shadows. "I did."
Dao stepped forward. "Me, too."
Brunt joined them. "It was us. No one else."
Master Z stroked his gold chain and considered the three rascals. "Alright. Well, you three help Dimple clean up. And then when I get back, we're gonna talk about why you gotta listen, and figure out another punishment that fits."
All three of them bowed. "Yes, Master Z."
He softened. "You kids gotta understand, it ain't safe down here. I know you're used to it now, but stuff can go sideways in a second if you're not ready."
Oren crossed her arms and looked imperious like she did sometimes when she was sure she was right about something. "We were ready, Master Z. Dao has her special sight, so nothing surprises us."
"Y'all seemed pretty surprised to me when I walked in. Dimple shot a GUN at me."
The younglings all laughed, Dimple too.
Master Z touched Oren's shoulder. "Look, it ain't fair for you to put all that on Dao's shoulders. What do we do in Rat Clan?"
The kids responded in unison: "learn from each other."
"And?"
"Learn from our environment."
"Go on."
"Listen to our guts."
"That's right. Now, speaking of guts, those of you who ain't consigned to clean-up duty, get your butts into the kitchen and the gardens to get prep done for the day."
The kids scattered, leaving Master Z in the foyer with Dao, Oren, Dimple, and Brunt.
Master Z went back to the door, tutting over the scorchmarks from the blaster. He grabbed the trash basket with the blaster parts in it and brought it with him as he stepped outside.
"This place is clean when I get back. Understood?"
The four troublemakers bowed.
Master Z closed the door behind him, walked to the nearby canal with the water rushing from the upper city, and dumped the blaster parts into it.
Chapter 11 - The Scars
Master Z knew they were being watched, but he didn't want to scare the kids any more than they'd already been scared. They went through the day like any other, after cleaning up the foyer. Brunt took on four other kids in the dojo but then complained of cheating when Oren got the drop on him and put a training blade to his kidney. Dao made everybody jealous with her mastery of attack anticipation. Dimple asked why Jedi can't use guns. The usual.
Before they knew it, dinner time had come. In Rat Clan, meals were important, as every youngling was expected to have a hand in scavenging, bartering for, harvesting, and prepping the ingredients. They had a small hydroponics garden hidden behind the temple, while protein was generally drummed up by the kids from vendors in their safer section of the Underworld, the section Master Z called 'the shell.'
The Shell was the community just on the cusp of the gutters that bled from the upper city down into the Underworld. It was just that: a shell of families, individuals, rogue droids, and harmless miscreants who protected the secrecy of Rat Clan's temple in exchange for knowing that their community (and the Underworld) was at least nominally cared for and protected by the Jedi Order. This usually came in the form of water purification equipment, mechanical parts, food and nutrients, arbitration for disputes, etc.
For dinner, Master Z had the kids take their noodle bowls out to the canal, where they still had some privacy afforded to them by the stalls, fences, and lookouts of the Shell. But even with all of that, Master Z knew they were being watched. It was like pinpricks on his neck, and it was that same familiar presence he'd felt that morning.
"Master Z?"
He slurped up noodles and oily broth while dangling his feet over the canal. "Dao?
"Where does the water go?"
All the kids looked at the water differently, now. They watched it flow down the gutterfalls toward the gut huts and then deeper into the Underworld's abyss.
Master Z sniffed. "Water always goes low."
"What's that mean?"
"Water flows down to the lowest point, always. It goes way down, to the bottom, to places most people don't like or don't wanna think about."
"Like the Underworld."
Brunt cut in. "Like the Foundries."
Master Z nodded and played with a slice of veg in his ramen. "Yeah, like that. Water doesn't discriminate. Senators need water to live, poor scrags down low need water to live. Water binds us all together."
"Like the Force."
"Just so, kid."
They all slurped their dinner on the edge of the canal in silence for a while. Oren spoke up, in her usual whisper. "People are water."
"Just so, kid."
Oren bit into a chunk of meat in her soup. "Red water."
"... yeah. But water all the same."
Master Z never pried about the kids or their pasts. But he was a master, and sometimes, the things he sensed in their miserable little dreams made his heart sick at night. Oren, especially.
"It's like this," he finished off his broth, "without water, everything is just dust."
"What do you mean?"
"If you suck the water out of life, out of everything, it's nothing but dust. Dead, dumb dust. And you remember what I told you all about dust?'
"It's the bustle of society."
"Money and fame."
Dimple chimed in. "Shiny coins and designer speeders!"
Master Z played with the gold ring on his finger. "That's right. People love it, they love being busy, running around, chasing the gleam, being dusty. Makes them feel like something's happening, right? But dust settles, that's why we call it dust; dust don't get up and float around unless somebody bothers it."
Dao swirled her chopsticks in her broth and watched the patterns in the bits of veg, fish, and noodle. "Dust needs water to be mud. Mud is where the flowers and fruit grow."
Master Z pointed at Dao and smiled. "Just so, kid. Now what's my point?"
Brunt had an answer. "That dust and water need each other."
"Sure, and what's that mean for us? How come we're down here, but not up there with all the shiny, dusty folks?"
Brunt rubbed at the scar on his face. "Because. Because we're the water kids."
"We don't fit up there."
Master Z frowned. "Don't fit up there, sure, whatever – not the point. It's not about fit, it's about what they need, and what dusty people need more than anything is somebody to come along and dump a bucket of water on their head."
Dao and Oren grinned at each other. "Sploosh!"
Master Z dusted his hands and rose with his empty bowl. This signaled to the younglings to finish up their dinner and rise with him. "Rat Clan is about helping the Jedi never forget where life lives – it lives down here, in low places, where the water flows. Yeah, it's ugly, it's full of garbage, and nobody up there likes to think about it. But this is where life is at, and even if it's not pretty, it needs to be seen."
The younglings bowed in recognition, mostly absorbing the philosophy lesson.
Master Z brushed them off. "Now scram! Get inside and clean up, then have some free time. Master Yoda's gonna be checking up on us any day now and he won't let me hear the end of it if you kids keep a dirty temple!"
"Yes, Master Z!"
And they scurried off to the temple doors. He was sure to watch them all pile in and close the door properly, before he dared turn to face the shadows nearby.
He saw a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes watching him, because they wanted him to see them. He knew if Sabel wanted to remain unseen, she could have, even to him.
"Well," he said, sticking a thumb in his sash and beckoning with a jerk of his head, "get out here already."
Sabel slinked into the open. Master Z's heart sank at the sight of her, so pale, seemingly stuck in a form-fitting, black flight suit. They said nothing to one another at first.
It was Sabel who broke the silence. "I want my blade back. Please."
Master Z tongued the inside of his cheek and stared at her. "If that's all you want."
"It is."
"Wait here."
Master Z walked up to one of the hovels closest to the temple. He rapped on the door gently. An old woman peeped him through the door slats and smiled in recognition. Sabel watched as there was murmured conversation, a joke or two, and of course, Master Z making a pleading, steepled gesture with his hands. The old woman nodded, vanished for a minute, then returned with a lockbox. Master Z accepted it when a bow, then walked back to Sabel.
"You left my blade… with an old woman, protected by sheet metal and rust."
"You lose your gift for subtlety, kid?"
Master Z tossed the lockbox to Sabel. She snatched it from the air and glared at the lock. Her fingers smashed through the hard wood, splintering it, and sloughing it aside. Resting in her hand, now, was the hilt of a lightsaber.
Sabel stuck it to her belt and leveled her gaze at Master Z. "Thank you."
"Favor for a favor."
"The only law that matters."
They shared a knowing nod. Master Z turned, content to leave his former pupil to her fate, whatever that may be. He was not surprised when she rushed his flank.
He was, however, surprised at the shocking speed of it.
With the Force as his ally, he managed to react just in time to shoulder check her advance, then roll into a fluid sweep, only for her to dance backwards and fully disengage. He gave her a tired look.
"Same old Mek Sha punk, huh."
"I'm sure the Jet Crew misses me."
"They're history, last I heard; lost their territory to some rogue Mando clan."
"Too bad."
Another long, awkward silence. Master Z thought about a parent animal meeting their kid in the woods, all grown up – no longer a student, but a competitor.
He broke the silence this time. "That last op really hurt you."
"They can't break me, Z. No one can – not the Nihil, not the beasts, not the wraiths, not the demons in my head, not that freak admiral, no one, no one can.
He held up his hands in surrender. "Heard that. Well… whatever the Shadows have you up to these days, may the Force-be-kriffin-with-you, kid."
"Thanks."
And just like that, she slid into shadow, and was gone.
Master Z re-centered himself. He heard the rush of the gutterfalls, the shouts of distant Underworld folk, the thrum of a freighter's engines passing near the ceiling of the tunnels high above. When he opened his eyes again, he had to wipe some mist from them.
"Yeah… don't mention it."
He was all too happy to head back into the temple, and focus on the younglings who still had some joy and hope left in them.
Chapter 12 - Disguised Grief
For the sixth time since his Padawan died, Ontoroch found himself sitting across a tea table from Master Fen, in a quiet office on the top floors of the Jedi Temple. She moved the teapot off of the table's central heating stone, and poured for each of them cups of grassy-green tea that smelled like mulched vegetation.
After settling into their pillows on the hard floor, he took a moment to absorb the room, and put his troubles aside. There was a small fountain dripping water into a pool, one drop per ten seconds exactly. There was the master's hard gatami mat folded neatly under the couch. There were shelves that, in any other office, would have been filled with books and impressive titles, but here, the shelves were purposefully empty.
The shelves were hewn from knotted Onderonian jungle wood, and the point of them was to be symbolically empty, showing off only the whorling grain and elegant, asymmetrical lines of nature itself, frozen in lacquered death.
Master Fen sipped her tea. "Your thoughts are interesting today."
Ontoroch sipped his as well. He had become accustomed to its bracing flavor.
"I am not recovering as quickly as I would like."
"And in what way is the speed of your healing a matter of will?"
Ontoroch stared into the cup of tea, where he saw his reflection warped by ripples in liquid. "I can focus the Force within me, channel its power throughout my body, and accelerate natural healing processes; in this way, I have recovered from gut shots, broken bones, and even saber strikes. All of this, in time, dictated only by my need to survive."
Master Fen took another sip of her tea, but primarily it seemed she simply enjoyed warming her bony hands with the hot cup. "Power, focus… power, focus. It is very important that you prevail, isn't it, Ontoroch?"
"With respect, Master Fen, how is that a question? Of course I must prevail. The Jedi Order and the Republic need warriors like me."
"Like you?"
"Like me. Ardent, brave, resilient, and loyal."
"Indeed."
Silence settled over the room again. Master Fen clicked her nail against her teacup and seemed a pit of serenity that Ontoroch's emotions bled into.
He could not help himself. "Forgive my passions. I am not yet old and numb inside."
"Numb, you say."
Ontoroch regretted the words the moment they left his lips. "I have only been a knight for five years, Master Fen, and my emotions only become more powerful, not less."
"Numbness, he says."
Ontoroch clenched his jaw.
She needled again. "Numbness. Do you think your words do not hurt me?"
"How could they? You are a Master, and a Sage, at that. The mind is your domain."
"Believe it or not, young knight, but, you wound me with your misunderstanding of my perspective. That you are so involved with your own pains, you fail to see the person sitting an arm's length across the table from you, so much so that I have ceased to be a person, and am now instead some imagined archetype in the mythology of your own internal psychodrama."
Ontoroch understood every word. Like a silent wave rising from unseen depths, the stillness of the Great Sage swelled upwards, never breaking, but growing into a sun-blotting shadow that filled the room with… nothing. She was like a mirror, reflecting him back at himself, every ugly, petty emotion, every cycle of self-loathing, every drop of grief.
In moments it settled back down. She finished her tea and turned the cup over onto the table with a distinct click. "Where does every fight begin, warrior."
"In the mind."
"Correct. And do you betray your intentions to your enemy?"
"Not if you can help it."
"Wrong. You do not."
Ontoroch's lip twitched with a mix of anger and shame.
"I have spoken to you in this capacity too many times since your padawan died. She has passed into the Force, at peace and eternal, perhaps to enjoy new cycles of life we can only imagine. And here you sit, a wet bag of meat and self-pity, using her corpse as an excuse to whip yourself, if only to remind the greedy ego that it indeed exists."
He felt himself shrinking. He wondered if he was a youngling again, hiding from her shadow when she walked the hallways of the Order as the rising star of the Jedi Consulate.
But he would not tolerate it. Not now, not anymore. His anger became a fuel for defiance, and while he could not look her in the eyes, he resolved that she could not break him.
And that moment was when she pulled back, and gasped.
"What are you letting your grief turn you into?"
"You judge me? When you speak so flippantly of the dead?"
"The dead are dead. No memorial song or grand headstone will bring them back – she is now a part of you, passed on, and you can cling to what she was, or accept what she is."
"I know what treachery you and the Council get up to. I know about the Shadow upon the ship, where I guarded the Senator, and where a child was nearly killed – a child that the Council then saw fit to banish to the Underworld, of all places. She could have been your prize pupil!"
"The Force shows us the way forward, Ontoroch, and surprises even the Council at times. There is yet a path before that child, and you, if one has the clear eyes with which to see it."
"I… no longer trust those above me, to do what is right."
"And is that because you, in your passions and trials, have convinced yourself that nothing outside your concerns can possibly know better? That nothing looms larger than the thorns you twist and pick at in your soul?"
Ontoroch was so deep in a haze of emotion that he knew he was lost, and he desperately yearned for the clarity of his early years.
"Anger is the bodyguard of sadness, Ontoroch. Let go of this masculine nonsense and allow yourself to weep, if you wish it."
"A Knight cannot weep. A Knight must be solid as stone."
"A Knight does as he pleases! If he wishes to weep for his lost padawan, he does so, but only if he is open-hearted, and wills it to be so!"
"How can you say we do what we please when we are made to follow orders? When we are asked to be loyal to the vision of those we cannot understand?"
"The moment is yours, Ontoroch. A Jedi is a vessel for the Force. He accepts all outcomes, for good or for ill, and walks into them as a placid lake; reflecting his enemies, revealing their own weaknesses, and what many mistake for his brilliance, is in fact the Force itself shining upon the surface of his being."
"I am a mirror."
"A mirror, a blade. And what do you see in this mirror?"
"A Zabrak man, broken and tired, grieving endlessly for the one he could not save."
"There will be many more you cannot save, Ontoroch. Many, many more."
"Then what is the point?"
"The point is to reduce the capacity of existence to be a living Hell, Ontoroch. Start with yourself. Start with letting her corpse go; stop clutching it, let it drift down the river of death."
"To peace."
"To peace you yourself will one day know."
"There is no death."
"There is only the Force."
Ontoroch downed his tea, and turned it over with a clink. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and already his heart felt lighter. He rose and bowed deeply to Master Fen.
"To the next horizon, Master Fen."
"Ride on, warrior."
She gestured to him with an old Mirialan mudra, meant to ward off evil. He smiled and closed the office door behind him. The hallways of the Jedi Temple held fresh air, and the Coruscant dawn was glittering as never before.
Chapter 13 - The Shadow
Ontoroch chose the long walk to his home, just on the south side of the Temple among the mid-level commons. There was an open-air courtyard lush with imported vegetation from all corners of the galaxy, and in this way, it was no more or less remarkable when compared to any other residential area. It was also no more or less beautiful than much of Coruscant's surface.
As he walked through the gardens, he took his time. He found his mind drifting to the little Miraluka girl, Dao, and how she was condemned to the Underworld beneath his feet. He thought of his padawan, and the overwhelming ambush that killed her, that not even he could defend against. He thought of the senselessness and barbarity of the Rim Worlds, of Mek Sha, of the Foundries and Gutters of the Underworld beneath him.
Sometimes he wondered why the Jedi didn't simply break them all; every degenerate, every thug, every criminal. Why were they allowed such clemency? Why were they allowed due process when they were among the most vicious and violent animals in the galaxy?
So absorbed was he in his own thoughts, he had already forgotten Master Fen's wisdom.
Keycard in hand, he walked toward the elevator at the end of the garden. He failed to see the butterflies, the birds, or the flowers swaying in the breeze. He failed to absorb the beauty of the wind sighing through high branches. He thought only of death and retribution.
And he did not notice the shadow tailing him. But his paranoia tingled, at least, and he looked around, wary and uncertain. He tried to detect ill-intent in the pedestrians and quiet visitors to the gardens, but sensed nothing.
He stepped into the elevator and used his card. It dinged, opening access to the thirteenth floor, where guests of the Temple and various Jedi in limbo often stayed. He was one of the latter, a Knight without a clear assignment, save to oversee the operations of the CCP on a semi-regular basis. Given their efficacy, he found the assignment largely pointless.
Why would anyone ever need to police the police? It was like washing soap.
The elevator dinged again. He stepped out into the hallway lit by natural light and long, tall windows. Near one of those windows, a humanoid shadow watched the sunny world outside. He squinted his eyes, unable to give the shadow form, face, or definition, as if it defied his senses, defied his instincts, and chose to remain a tall, slender, black thing he would never decipher.
"Who goes," he asked, in a low baritone, hand slipping to his hilt.
The shadow did not respond. Its form did not become any less blank, but he knew it was smiling at him and that caused him irritation.
"I ask again, who goes?"
"They'll be striking in a few minutes. Be ready."
That voice. The croak of a scarred woman, young but somehow very old.
He sensed no ill-will and no impending danger, which made him all the more paranoid. "I know you."
The shadow turned to face him, and through its gloom he saw a pair of gleaming, smiling yellow eyes as bright as a forest creature's. "You don't even know yourself, Ontoroch."
"Enough GAMES!" His saber alighted in his hand, and his stance moved to the noble challenge of shien, body sideways, blue blade a burning invitation pointed at the shadow.
The shadow did not move. Its body undulated in a kind of supernatural murk.
Ontoroch did not budge from his position. In a single lunge, he knew he could drive the light of his blade straight through this demon's heart. "I will not warn you again."
"If you want to kill time, I'll happily duel you, brother."
"I am not your brother."
The shadows banished themselves in a hiss, and the Force parted to reveal Sabel, pale and miserable-looking as ever, standing in a kind of languid slouch that Ontoroch only saw as poor posture and poorer form.
She bowed her head, barely. "We serve the same masters."
"We do not."
She had something in her right hand, her finger worrying at some kind of metallic device, but he could not discern what it was. It was hidden behind her forearm.
"Is this some misguided attempt at terrorism? A suicide attack with a thermal detonator? You realize I am Ontoroch, son of Malakar and Brunhelde, of a line unbroken in the Order? I was top of my class, taught by none other than Grand Master Atreya – I will weather any storm."
"You, yes, maybe. But what about those you care about?"
His eye twitched. His horns flexed. "Attack me," he demanded.
"From the front?"
"Unless you are a coward."
Sabel obliged him, lunging forward in a sinuous, almost inhuman manner, as if she had no bones and her body was an unpredictable whip. But he saw his opening, brought himself low and angled his blade upward to drive it straight through her black heart.
The projection dissipated around his blade. She was gone.
He felt the heat of a lightsaber's point burning over his flank, frozen in restraint, threatening to drive through his kidney and liver. He did not move. He had dueled enough to know when his opponent had scored a point.
"I yield to your low strategy," he took a breath, and realized too late who he was dealing with, "Master Sabel, no doubt of the Jedi Shadows."
"A lethal mistake later, and he puts the pieces together," she withdrew, and he turned to face her. In her hand, she held a small shoto lightsaber with a ring grip at the hilt, with one finger through it for stability. She held it like an ice pick, for power strikes and leverage, with her other hand free for grappling. Through the Force, he saw that her free hand was not alive, but a mesh of wires and synthetic sinews – a bionic limb, no doubt perfect for crushing bone and throats.
He noticed also that the blade of her lightsaber was translucent, and as she withdrew it, there was no sound whatsoever, and its movements flickered like a glitch in his own vision.
"A ghostfire crystal," he mused, "interesting."
"There'll be time to talk shop later."
He withdrew his blade and stuck it in his sash, then bowed. "Yes, you spoke of something before. It sounded urgent."
"I spent ten years in deep cover. I suffered to get crucial intelligence on the Nihil to the Republic and the Council."
"Though I am not privy to every detail, I thank you for your sacrifices."
"The Shadows are allowing something to happen today, so we can observe."
"That… sounds incredibly ominous."
"There's going to be an attack on the Temple."
Ontoroch paled, "what manner of attack?"
"They'll be hijacking a freighter and trying to drive it into the top floors. Shadows are already on board, the Council is forewarned, and the damage will be minimized."
"This is– why are you telling me this?"
Sabel turned and looked out the window, pointing at the topmost 'heavy' lane of traffic in Coruscant, where freighters and mixed ships moved in a controlled, stately fashion, generally on auto-pilot controlled by Coruscant Central Flight Control. "I'm telling you this because I want to bring you into the fold. For good or ill, you're tied up in things, along with the Senator – better to keep you close."
Ontoroch's eyes widened as a large freighter began deviating away from the heavy lane. Its thrusters lit with power as it dove toward the Jedi Temple. Alarms blared across the city blocks. CCP ships and drones blasted out of their patrols, cordoning off lower lanes and redirecting traffic away from the maverick freighter's calculated vector.
Sabel crossed her arms and watched with him. "This will be the catalyst that drives the Republic toward action."
"This is treacherous – what of the people on board?!"
"They'll be fine. Just watch."
Ontoroch could not merely watch. It was too far away for him to do anything, but at least he could run while watching. He dove into the elevator, Sabel just behind him.
"We have to do something."
Sabel shrugged, "if you say so."
Together they ran into the courtyard, eyes always upward, at the ship drifting down toward the Temple. They leapt up ledges and across the tops of shorter buildings, and only once he was on top of the commons did Ontoroch realize the futility of his efforts. The freighter was moments from colliding with the top of the Jedi Temple.
He watched, paralyzed with horror. And then, the freighter simply stopped.
"What…"
Sabel smiled, "I told you."
The Freight hung suspended, just meters from the Jedi Temple, its thrusters blazing in futility. When Ontoroch focused, he could see the small figures of many Jedi clustered around the windows and on the top of the Temple, holding the huge ship at bay via the Force.
Ontoroch's heart lifted. The CCP ships blasted toward the freighter, their tackle wing deploying electro-nets around the rogue ship's thruster control systems, disabling it. Boarding droids were fired out of interceptor cannons to bore into the freighter and commandeer it from within.
Sabel opened up her datapad and watched the live holonet news with Ontoroch.
The anchor was oddly calm, "- this just in, we have updates on the outer rim freighter carrying a shipment of consumer goods over Coruscant today. Official reports are pointing toward this being an accident and NOT a deliberate attack on the Jedi Temple. CCP and Republic Officials would like to caution citizens against fear or panic at this time, and apologize for traffic delays while the situation is sorted…"
Sabel grimaced and shut off the datapad, stuffing it back in her satchel.
Ontoroch peered at her through the angled sunlight, "is that not… good?"
"Someone is playing games with us."
Ontoroch gave her a look, "heavens forbid someone play games."
"Ontoroch, listen to me. There's games being played on levels you've never even heard of in this galaxy, well outside the Republic's walls, and deep underneath it, too."
"I am but a humble knight, Master Sabel. I stay in my lane."
"Well, like it or not, you're in my lane now. Why don't we give your friend Kayatonae a visit? Maybe you can give that Mirialan girl a rose along the way."
"How…"
"It's my job."
And that was that. The freighter had been braced with anti-gravity drones and was being ferried to dry docks for maintenance and 'firmware upgrades.' Its crew, on the nightly news, was revealed to be perfectly innocent, and there were no reports of Jedi Shadows or other such ghosts aboard it. All was well in the Republic, and people were reminded to observe their lanes even with autopilot on, as errors could still occur in rare circumstances.
To her credit, Ontoroch found Sabel's focused sense of purpose a refreshing change of pace from the philosophical dithering of most Jedi Masters. Their ride toward the Senator's office was made in total silence, and beneath Sabel's cold, pale exterior he sensed a cold, pale interior that betrayed nothing.
If there were a warrior he wanted to learn from, treacherous or not, it would be her.
Chapter 14 - Dao Vision
Today, the kids were fishing. Gutterfish tasted like any other fish, except for the faint aftertaste of plastic, which Rat Clan had learned to enjoy; this was a staple protein for them, after all. Master Z and all the younglings sat on the edge of the canal near the temple, some with poles, some with nets, hauling in the day's catch.
"Don't touch 'em with your hands, Oren, you know the routine."
"I'm not afraid," Oren had a spiny gutterfish in her hands, held by the gills.
"One wrong move and you're in the hospital, kid, put it in the net!"
Oren moved the gutterfish over the net and dropped it in. Dao, the one holding the net, felt her arms nearly buckle under the strain. She was, by far, the scrawniest of any member of Rat Clan, except maybe Dimple, and fish day was when she felt it the most.
Dao dumped the fish in the ice box. "Master Z, can I try a pole?"
"And watch you get sucked into a canal again? No way!"
"I can do it, Master Z."
"Dao, what do I always tell you kids."
"Lots of things…"
Brunt, sensing the moment, cast his line again after Dimple baited it for him.
"We lean on one another and learn from one another."
"Just so."
Dao stood by Oren with her net. Oren had a long gaff hook and was ready, eyes on the water. Dao wanted to do that, too. "Why can't I learn to be strong?"
Master Z laughed a little, "when you get bigger, you can do plenty of stuff to get a little stronger. But no matter what, you'll never be a Brunt or a Oren."
"That's not fair."
"What ain't fair about it? You can't have it all."
"Why?"
"Well, maybe you can. I dunno. It's a big galaxy, but, if all you ever chase is how to be the best at everything, where's the room for your friends?"
Dao considered this, and she found it made sense, "I guess that's true."
"Yeah, maybe it is, and besides, nobody here can see like you can – whoa!"
Master Z pulled up his line. Oren swiped down with her hook and got the splashing, slimy critter by the gills and pulled it up. Dao lifted her net and got it ready. The big fish, about as heavy as her own torso, thrashed hard into the net. Dao did her best, but she didn't have good control of it, and in its thrashing, the fish's spine stabbed Oren's leg.
Oren screamed in agony. The venom from the spine moved fast and burned the wound like a hot poker under the skin. Oren was just seven years old and clenching her teeth with tears in her eyes, "I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna CRY…" she seethed over and over.
Dao clutched at her face and curled up, helpless and guilt-ridden. The fish still flopped on the ground in the net.
Brunt grabbed the net for her and dunked the fish into the icebox, before joining the others in helping Oren. Master Z opened his medicine bag.
"Hold still, now… just let it be, let it be, I've got you."
Master Z used a dose gun to inject Oren with an antivenom. He then drew the broken spine from the wound with the Force, and tossed it into the canal. Brunt helped him clean and dress the wound.
"I'll take her inside, Master Z," Brunt had Oren in his arms, and Dao was shocked to see the usually still and stoic Oren trembling and crying against Brunt.
"All of you go inside," Master Z gestured to the icebox, "get dinner prepped and mind the damned spines, you all know better."
They went, leaving Master Z with Dao outside. Dao sat curled up on the ground, tears streaking down her face. Master Z crouched down to level with her.
"Why are you crying?"
"Because I hurt my friend… because I'm not strong."
"Yeah, so?"
"I know I was supposed to do better."
"Accidents happen, Dao, life is full of that stuff. We can't control everything and anybody who says you can is trying to control you."
"I don't like it when my friends hurt."
"Nobody with a heart likes that, Dao. But, I hate to break this to you kid… this is gonna happen again and again."
"Why?"
"Well, because you're gonna be a Jedi, and because bad things happen in life. You're gonna meet a lot of people and make a lot of connections with that big heart of yours, and you're gonna see some of them get hurt, no matter how hard you try to stop it."
"That's not fair."
"It ain't about fair, Dao. Never was."
"It's not fair!"
"Well, gee whiz, Little Miss Fish, look who's got all the ideas about the way things are!"
"If being a Jedi means my friends get hurt, I don't wanna be a Jedi!"
"Dao your friends are gonna get hurt no matter what you do in life, only way to stop that from happening is to have no friends."
"But I want friends."
"Well, then… you gotta accept they're gonna get hurt. Maybe they'll even die."
Dao had never had friends before. Rat Clan had become something special to her, with the jokes at night, the adventures on the canals, the food and fun, it was all too much to let go of in this moment. "Right now, Master Z, I hear you. I understand. But I'm just a little kid, and I don't really feel any of that right now."
Master Z laughed, "damn, just when I think I'm losing you, you come right back around and show me how it's done. Fair enough, Dao, fair enough."
He offered his hand. She took it, and they walked toward the temple.
Rat Clan's dinner was fish and seaweed stew with fermented bean broth. All of the kids sat around the dining table with Master Z, and they had to sit in silence for five minutes before digging in, to let the food cool, and to consider their good fortune in having it. Once the five minutes passed, the room was a symphony of slurps, gulps, and clinking dishware.
Dao sat next to Oren, who was her usual silent self, and this was a small comfort. Sensing Dao's distress, Oren reached under the table and squeezed Dao's hand.
Dao felt her heart warm and flutter with pure reassurance.
There was a knock on the temple's wooden door. Master Z rose, wiped his lips, and reached out to the Force. He felt a familiar presence, a Jedi Knight, but he wasn't sure of the identity. It had been a long time.
The door opened and there was Ontoroch, ready with a deep bow.
"Master Z. Forgive my intrusion."
"Oh, hey – Ontoroch, right? You're the, uh…"
"I was the Knight, who brought Dao here, years ago."
"That's it! Kayatonae's guy!"
Ontoroch smiled thinly at Master Z, and the old Jedi Master gave him the side-eyes. Something was cagey about Ontoroch, like he had some secrets about him. Master Z immediately thought of his old student, Sabel, and he wasn't sure why.
Ontoroch, if he was aware of this scrutiny, did not betray it, "may I come in?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but it's dinner time for the younglings. This urgent?"
"It is somewhat time-sensitive."
"Go on."
"Well, I was hoping to run some tests with Dao, on behalf of the Senate. It pertains to what she endured on the Senator's ship when we first found her."
"What kind of tests?"
"Vision tests. We believe based on her behavior at the time she may possess a Force Sight far more nuanced than we previously suspected."
"And this is relevant to whom? For what reason?"
Ontoroch, who had clearly not been expecting this level of resistance, gave his best smile, which was to Master Z the very opposite of convincing.
"It's related to classified Republic affairs, which you can absolutely review yourself by request, if you wish." Ontoroch offered the sealed Senatorial letter to Master Z. Master Z sighed and ushered Ontoroch in.
"Get in, then. Stand by the door," Master Z tore the envelope open and read the note:
Master Z,
I understand you're raising the kid up, and I couldn't think of a better teacher. I know this is unorthodox, but I'm given to understand that's your purview in the Order. I recently learned that some rare Miralukans have vision that can track energy fields and other nuances. Given her gift for the Force, I figured it was reasonable to assume Dao might be more acute than most of her kind and could even sharpen her vision to something especially unique with help.
As to why I care about this, let's just say I've become pretty friendly with a former student of yours, and she's tremendously interested in the potential of someone like Dao for long-term operations that relate to Republic security. The earlier we get a read on Dao's capabilities, the earlier we can start training them up as a true specialization.
Ontoroch is just going to show her a few different devices that emit fields in various ranges and then ask her what she sees. I hope you'll humor us.
All Best,
Senator Kayatonae
P.S. You still owe me four-thousand for that pazaak game. Consider us even, now.
Master Z folded the letter back up and had terrifying flashbacks to a drunk Senator Kaatonae's mastery of the pazaak bluff. With a great sigh, he shooed Ontoroch with his hands, "go wait in the dojo, I'll send her your way after dinner."
Ontoroch bowed, and proceeded into the other room without a word.
Master Z sat back down at the table and gave his bowl of cooled fish stew a slurp, "Dao, you remember Ontoroch?"
"Yeah."
Dimple started giggling under his breath, "Dimple remember Onto…"
Master Z gave Dimple the eye, "don't you do it, Dimple."
"Dimple remember very, very shiny speeder."
"Dimple…"
"What?! Dimple likes speeders!" Dimple was still giggling.
"You're doing your hijinks giggle, Dimple, and I don't like it!"
"Dimple has speech impediment! Rude!"
Dao glanced over at the dojo door, "is Onto waiting for me?"
Master Z picked out a piece of plastic-flavored fish, "yeah."
"Why?"
"Quick test, for your vision, I guess. You remember Senator Kayatonae?"
"Yes! She's going to teach me how to fly a ship someday."
"She told you that?"
Dao smiled and sipped her soup, "no. I just know."
Brunt grinned at that, downing his second bowl, "Dao can you tell the future?"
"Oh yeah. I have future dreams all the time."
Oren rolled her eyes, "did you have a dream about stabbing me in the leg with a fish?"
Dao sipped her soup demurely, "I did not."
Master Z finished his soup, "well, we'll hold off the oracle training in that case. Finish up and get in there, Dao, we gotta use the dojo in half an hour."
Dao slurped down half her soup and scooted. Master Z snapped his fingers, "finish that soup, kid, you're not gonna get stronger if you don't eat."
Dao climbed back into her seat, drank down the soup, ate some nuts, and made a face at Master Z, who made a face right back, "in, in, in," he ushered her into the dojo and shut the door.
Ontoroch wasted no time. The first test was a heat stick, burning white-hot.
"What do you see?"
Dao flinched away across from him, "bright-hot. Hot light."
"Interesting," he sheathed it, then drew a small probe from his backpack. He turned on its shields and let it alight, "and what do you see now?"
"A little droid?"
"What else?"
"A bubble."
"You see a bubble around it?"
"Yes."
Ontoroch put the probe away. Then he stretched three wires across the table, "don't touch these. Just look." He attached batteries with different types of current to each. "What now?"
Dao saw the currents as clear as any other light, but it was tight and subdued by the wires. "I see lights underneath something. Very bright."
"These are cables with electricity in them."
"Okay."
And the tests went on and on. Ontoroch wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but the end result left him with the certainty that Dao didn't just perceive the world through the force, but through all manner of energies. She described almost all energy as 'light', without going into the vivid detail she often did when describing living auras.
In his notes, he would write that she could be trained to differentiate different types of energies, their flow, their strength, and their usage through as much as one meter of plasteel. Sabel, upon receiving the report, would be pleased, and she would pass it on to the Senator that very evening to inform her that all was well, and their long-term plans could continue in light of the botched 'traffic accident' earlier.
Plans B, C, D, E, and F were very much in play.
Act 2
Chapter 1 -Witch Dreams
Since her ninth birthday, Dao's dreams had become unsustainable. It had gotten so bad that she woke up in the night and would lie in bed meditating, focusing on her breathing, and that of her friends in the Rat Clan dorms, rather than risk going back to sleep and enduring more dreams. She did not tell anyone about these dreams at first, believing they would pass eventually, but it was Master Z who noticed the withdrawn mood at breakfast from repeated nights of three or four hours of rest.
It was true that most of the Rat Clan suffered from nightmares, but only in their early years. When Oren was little, she would wake all the other children up with her screaming in the night. Brunt sometimes punched or choked anyone foolish enough to lie near him when he was sleeping. Dimple often whined like he was being jabbed with needles in between snores.
The function of Rat Clan was to make Jedi out of troubled children, but in the case of Dao, Master Z had observed the opposite of the usual process.
Rather than come to him troubled and scarred from a traumatic birth and toddler years, Dao came to him largely a mystery, and seemingly perfect for the Jedi Code, with an open mind, an even-temper, and an innate practical wisdom he had come to admire. But that composure was eroding, like cheap paint over a facade, and year-by-year, his star pupil grew tired and shy at the time in her training when she should have been at her strongest and most confident.
Master Z needed help.
In Master Fen's office, nothing had changed. Her plants were healthy, hanging in long vines over the bookshelves, the books themselves were ordered but not immaculate, her desk was cluttered but not sloppy, and the window was open, but not so open that the light shining through it was overbearing. Presently, she drew a pot of brackish tea from the little stove in the corner, and poured it into the bowl of dried, crushed eggshells she kept from her lunches.
"A fine broth for you, my lovelies," she smiled, pouring the tea over the crushed eggshells, and then setting the bowl up high where it could steep overnight. She touched the leaves of her hanging plants, and admired their vitality. A knock at the door.
Master Fen walked to the door, took a steadying breath, and opened it.
"Master Fen, how are ya?" Master Z bowed deep, clasping jeweled fist to calloused palm.
Master Fen afforded him a respectful nod. "Well, this morning. It has been some time, Master Z, since you have gone so far as to need my counsel."
"She's a unique case and has been since we got her."
"So I've heard. And the young lady is…?"
Master Fen leaned, Master Z looked over his shoulder. There was Dao, thin and lanky, crouched on the waiting bench in the temple hallway like a frog, with her narrow shoulders leaning down between her knees and her wrists limp, hanging over the seat. She stared into space with dark-rimmed, bloodshot eyes and thought of nothing.
Master Fen frowned in genuine empathy, "she is haunted by something."
"Yeah, I have my own take, but I'd rather you get yours first."
"Very well. Young Dao!"
Dao slowly turned her head to look at Master Fen. Master Fen walked past Master Z and went to kneel down before the girl. She offered a hand to Dao, but Dao only looked at it the way a wary animal looks at offered food.
Master Fen kept her hand offered, "I am Master Fen and I am a student of the mind. I am honored that your Master Z has entrusted your welfare to me, and I ask you to honor him by placing your trust in me for today."
Dao really looked at her, this time. In Master Fen, she saw a stunning aura of the usual Jedi gold, with undulating, weaving serpents of bright green twisting around within her core like living vines. If nothing else, curiosity drove Dao to place her hand in Fen's.
They rose together, with Master Fen chuckling at the girl's height being well up to Fen's own chin level once she stood up.
"Goodness, she is tall, isn't she?"
Master Z grinned, "yeah, all that food she eats pushes her up, not across." He patted his gut and stuck a thumb in his sash, "all the luck in the world for this kid – now hey, you be good for Master Fen, alright? I'll be back tomorrow morning to get you."
Dao bowed her head, "yes, Master Z."
Master Z reached to ruffle Dao's hair like he used to, but he stopped himself halfway and nodded back. She wasn't a kid anymore, not for long. "Later, Dao."
Master Fen and Dao watched him amble down the hall for a moment, before he turned the corner and was out of sight. Fen squeezed the girl's hand gently.
"Tea?"
Dao perked up at the promise of tea, "caf?"
"I'll fix you a nice boiled black with mushrooms, straight from Alpherides."
Dao found Master Fen's office to be peculiar. There was a quiet energy to it, with a sense of foreboding power hidden beneath. It felt like walking through a thick forest, admiring the beauty of the sunrays and mosses, and the close-grown tree trunks, only to be disturbed by a preternatural silence that hung over a place that should have been loud with life. Every subtle sound in Master Fen's office rang in Dao's ears.
The gentle creak of her leather sandals as she moved about to fix tea. The quiet rustle of a vine leaf as the master brushed past it. The tap, tap, tap of a breeze from the cracked window moving the blinds. And then the familiar, comforting sound of fluid being poured into a clay cup from a heavy teapot. Dao lifted her cup and let it warm her hands in the brisk morning air.
Master Fen sat across Dao on the floor, with the low table between them. "I hope you don't mind, I like to keep it a bit cool in here – too much heat dulls the senses."
Dao nodded, "I'm used to it."
"Is it cold down there?"
Dao knew she meant the Underworld. "At our level, yes, near the Gutterfalls. Go deep enough and it's hot from the foundries, though."
"Have you been that far?"
"A few times," she admitted, and then frowned, "only once with Master Z."
"You and your friends get up to mischief, don't you?"
Dao avoided Master Fen's gaze at first, but then softened when she realized, through her aura, how gentle it actually was. "Yeah, we like adventures. Me, Oren, Brunt, and Dimple, mostly."
"You love your friends very much."
Dao thought of them, down there without her, "they love me, too."
"I imagine they do. How do you think they view you, Dao?"
"I suppose they see me as a bit of a leader. I'm good with words and I get along with everyone, and because of my sight, I can see things they can't, then tell them what I see."
"That's an important position in life, and an aptitude for it is rare."
Dao watched Master Fen. When Fen sipped tea, so did Dao. "Were you like that?"
"As a child? I was quite a bit like you, yes, and I suppose that's why your master brought you here. When I was little, my parents would say things like 'she has an old soul.'"
"What's that mean?"
"Oh, it's a silly human expression, a way of describing young people who are a bit more careful and withdrawn about life. Some old human religions believe in reincarnation, which is quite close to the Force and the cyclical nature of the cosmos."
"What's reincarnation?"
"The belief that one's immortal soul lives beyond their body, but in death is transformed into something new, in another life, with no memory of their past lives, save perhaps small echoes of familiarity, and an accumulated, subconscious wisdom – thus, old souls."
"Is it true?"
"Darling, I have no idea, really. The Force is a mystery to us all and will remain so until the end of time. What I do know is that I know very little, and that those who claim to know the true nature of things are usually the ones who know the least."
"Master Z says the same thing."
"Master Z is one of the wisest of the masters on Coruscant. You are lucky to have him."
Dao bowed her head in deference, "I know."
They shared silence and sipped tea again. Dao gazed into the dark, reddish liquid and its ripples, and briefly thought of the undulating shapes of her nightmares. "If Master Z is so wise, why is he banished to the Underworld with Rat Clan."
Master Fen tilted her head, "a shadow has passed over you. Do you truly wish for me to entertain such a silly question, or would you prefer I ignore it, and we move on?"
Dao set the cup down and placed her hands over her thighs. Her head bent forward and she channeled her focus outward, to recalibrate herself with the gentle auras of Master Fen's office, and forget the turmoil within. "Forgive me, Master Fen, I don't know why I asked."
"We may as well proceed. Answer your own question, Dao."
"Master Z is assigned to the Underworld and Rat Clan because he is one of the wisest, and because he is best suited to the task of dealing with troubled children, and integrating Jedi teachings with the darker corners of the Republic."
"Correct. He has no doubt explained it to you all as you've grown older."
"He has."
"Then why ask me a stupid question with such spite in your soul?"
"I… don't know. I don't know, Master Fen, and if I did, I would tell you." Dao felt her jaw clenching, felt the shadows hissing at her from the corners of the room.
"Are you afraid of the dark, Dao?"
"I see all. I do not know what darkness is."
"What an answer – such confidence! And yet I suspect it is a half-truth."
Dao bowed deeper, leaning hard on protocol and deference to stave off the urge to lash out. "Please enlighten me, master."
"You do know darkness. You were born in darkness, were you not?"
Dao felt cold. She felt sadness, confusion, and Master Fen felt it in her. There was silence. Master Fen broke it, "deep, deep darkness. The black current is strong in you."
"What, master?"
"The black current – one interpretation of the Force. Some simplify it to 'the light side and the dark side' but there is more nuance than that."
"Master, I beg you, my mind is strained and my spirit is weak, and I am not myself, lately, and I do not know how to improve and it is making me upset."
"Do you dream the dreams, Dao?"
"Please be clearer."
"Do you let the dreams happen to you?"
"I…"
Dao remembered many nights, lying awake in bed, surrounded by the warmth and calm of her sleeping friends, and letting that carry her to dawn.
Master Fen sipped her tea again, "you avoid them."
"Of course I do, they're horrible."
"Tell me of them."
"They don't make sense, master, that's what makes them so awful, if I could tell you, or Master Z, or anyone about them, if I could express them to you I would, I always would, I am a good student and a good communicator and I do not want to fail any of you!"
Master Fen took note of the rise in Dao's voice, the hint of fear, of desperation. "You do not want to fail. You do not want to fail, and so, you want to succeed. You want to be better. You want to impress, you want to lead, you want to see, you want to dream good dreams, you want, you want, you want, yes?"
Dao took in a deep breath and placed her elbows on the table, leaning her face into her palms, "I understand your point, master. Desire leads to fear of loss, fear leads to suffering, suffering to the loss of oneself to darkness. I don't want to be lost to darkness, Master Fen."
"For most, I think that advice is sound, but for you… perhaps a more subtle approach is required. I don't think your problem is that dark dreams plague you, I think your problem is that you avoid them, and fear them, rather than embracing them and analyzing them."
"You don't understand what I've seen."
"Perhaps not. But you will help me understand."
"How?!"
Master Fen reached into her a deep pocket within her robes, and produced a black stone, which she set upon the table between them. It was perfectly smooth, and it did not reflect the light coming from the window, but rather seemed to absorb it.
Master Fen nudged it toward Dao. "This is a locus you will place beneath your pillow when you sleep next. I will experience your dreams as you do, and thus know them better, and be able to guide you in your next steps."
Dao reached out, tentatively took the stone into her palms, and then clutched it to her heart. She gazed at Master Fen in deep gratitude, and if she could shed tears, she would have. "Thank you… thank you. This makes me less afraid."
"Good. Now, I see you are exhausted."
Master Fen rose, drew the blinds on the window to block the light. Dao did feel exhausted, the tea not having perked her up as she'd hoped. Master Fen unfolded a blanket on the office couch and fluffed a pillow. "I fear I lied to you. That was not black tea, but valerian napping tea. You ought to crawl up here under the blankets and have a nap, mm?"
Dao was not raised to see deception as an inherent evil, and she trusted this master's aura, so she complied, taking the stone with her and slipping it under the pillow. She lay down and Master Fen draped the blanket over her, tucking her in, and evoking a pleasant, nearly-forgotten memory of Dao's mother tucking her into bed long ago.
"Do not fear the darkness, little Dao," said Master Fen, going to sit down on the floor nearby, in meditation posture, "I will be beside you."
Dao murmured some nonsense or another in reply, not even sure what she wanted to say, and within a minute, the darkness of deep sleep had taken her.
Master Fen did not observe as some passive eye, but instead experienced Dao's dreams as Dao did herself. She felt every pang of fear, every chill of doubt, just as she had for other children in the past she used the locus to connect with. At first, there was nothing but calm, restful sleep, but then the subconscious awoke, to receive messages from… something.
It began as an awareness, which was unsettling, as one does not like to be aware during sleep. This lucidity made it easier to experience what was to come, and to experience the present terror of existing within abject, silent darkness above and below. It was the feeling of sitting alone in the middle of an enormous, dark room, with no walls to protect you.
It was the feeling of anything being in that darkness beyond you, as close or as far away as it desired to be. This, Master Fen knew, was the primary ingredient in inducing not fear in the living mind, but terror.
This was not a normal nightmare. She knew, or would know when waking finally came, that this was a vision – something in the Force communicating to Dao.
This was an ill omen, a bad thing, and something to escape. But there was no escape.
Consciousness and darkness were not friends. They did not like one another. Sleep, death, those were the things that loved darkness. One was not meant to be awake in it.
Something caressed the back of her neck. Immediately, her body trembled, her mind rushed with mommy, mommy, mommy, save me, please, mommy, where are you.
It was terror. It was an abandoned child lost too early to the whims of a world that still seemed alien. It was a toddler at the controls of a starship she had only seen adults fly. It was a baby abandoned in the woods to be left to the whims of fate and the indifferent hunger of nature. It was primordial, it was intense, and it was terror.
Master Fen still shared Dao's desire to wake up, but waking up did not happen.
A man's laughter, in the darkness. The caress became a grip on the back of the neck, fingers strong like a slave's collar. The laugh was cruel and empty, a sadist's laugh, meant not to share joy but impress indifference at suffering upon a victim. Master Fen smelled the smell of plastic and ozone, of ship exhaust, of synthetic, unliving things.
Pass through, pass through this darkness. We must pass through.
Dao struggled, wanted to wake up, this was the part where she needed to.
Pass through, child, let us pass through.
There were voices, some afraid, some haughty and vicious. There were shapes in the darkness around them, with bright, empty eye sockets blazing with white light, and perfectly white, human teeth exposed shining in the black shadows, before fading back into them. Dao thrashed but could not escape seeing them.
Pass through, child, pass through.
Hyperdrive charging.
A hyperdrive was charging?
4… 3… 2… 1…
The sudden blast and erosion of reality. The stars streaked past them. The darkness left behind, in exchange for a tunnel of hyperspace. All around, they saw nebulae and stars rushing past, and felt the soothing silence of this liminal space take all the darkness away.
There was still darkness, the darkness of space of course, but there was color and beauty, too. There were crystal things past the nebula, of odd and orderly shapes, that flickered in and out of existence. There were eyes watching them, but they were alien, not cruel, and they hinted at distant lifeforms Master Fen could only imagine populated the far reaches of the universe, well beyond the Republic's meager little corner of creation.
And then it all slammed to a stop, the way a ship does when breaking a jump and landing in low orbit. A great celestial mass rushed into view, overtook them, and there they were, Master Fen and Dao, floating over an enormous asteroid shattered open like an egg, with spires of neon beauty rising up through its guts. Great, glittering cities of rainbow light and bustling life, receiving lines of freight and trade, with so many derelict ships and space stations hovering around it like fireflies in the void.
Master Fen recognized this world, and because they were connected, Dao did, too. Dao had never made it this far, she always woke herself up when the laughter started.
But now, here they were, at the end of the vision, and they had only more questions.
What were they doing here, hovering astrally over the great smuggler's port of Mek Sha?
The vision faded, and deep, restorative sleep finally came to Dao. Master Fen broke her trance, wiped the tears from her eyes, and watched over the girl as she snored in her office for fifteen straight hours, before waking late at night to mumble for water. Fen set aside her pipe and paperwork to pour the girl a glass and prop Dao's head up in her lap to help her drink.
Dao drank it down with great thirst, and then fell promptly back to sleep until the next day's dawn. Master Fen had much to tell not only Master Z, but also, the High Council. For these were not simple nightmares plaguing a troubled child, but the visions of a sensitive young Jedi attuned to something or someone greater than herself. These were witch dreams, and it was imperative that young Dao find the one whose nightmares she was sharing.
It would not take long. The report Master Z read over in the morning lead him to only one conclusion, based on Dao's history, and her run-ins with certain Shadows in hyperspace.
Sabel was off on missions only the High Council and herself knew of, but she was not unreachable. Before Dao was sent on her proving to Ilum, it would be necessary to resolve this unusual complication.
Chapter 2 - Mek Sha
The Parlor District was a riot of neon signage that changed daily, with independent businesses from Taun Taun steak houses, to bounty hunting firms, to discreet shipping services, to escorts and dancers crowding one another out along every inch of space that could be utilized on every major building. For a pedestrian on the ground, this created the experience of walking under a rainbow aurora of synthetic light that shone at all times. Mek Sha never slept.
Being a city built into the guts of a mined asteroid, the closest thing Mek Sha had to a cycle was the sounding of the port bells, which was an old pirate's tradition meant to mark the divide between teamstering cargo off of ships and carousing at the bars. If you heard the port bells twice, you knew you'd been awake too long, and should probably cut the dose of whatever drugs you were on, find a hostel or a hole, and fall asleep before your heart failed.
That wasn't an issue for the Jedi, of course. There were, indeed, Jedi on Mek Sha. There were Jedi everywhere in the galaxy, but in a place like this, the Shadows operated with a discretion largely independent of council oversight.
Master Sabel, as a Senior Shadow, was one such operative. Her listening post was twenty years old and situated comfortably in the loft above a nondescript chain convenience store, whose owner was a trusted informant.
Ontoroch, even after working with Sabel for two years, had never gotten used to her particular knack for utilitarian thinking. In this case, her insistence on plainclothes, and disguising their identities as Jedi as much as possible.
"It's ridiculous," he said, mostly to himself, as he sat on the floor in the loft, staring down the outfit she'd selected for him as he had previously refused to do it himself, "if we walked openly as Jedi, in force, this disgusting city would behave itself."
Sabel laughed from the bathroom, "you try that out, Ontoroch, see how it works for you."
"I don't see why it wouldn't. There isn't a blaster within ten parsecs that could match my blade, and that's all these ruffians wield."
"Ever tried to deflect a railgun pointed at you from a thirty-story sniper's nest?"
"A what?"
Sabel walked from the bathroom wearing a thin tank top and black, bantha-leather pants, with a bandolier slung across her chest and a belt with a buckle that read "2 EZ". Her lightsaber was easy to conceal, being a shoto, and she kept it stuck horizontally through the back of her belt in a concealed long-pouch. Ontorch made a point of not staring at her, as even with her black, cybernetic arm she had a kind of wiry, sharp beauty he'd come to admire.
Sabel grinned at him, gold tooth shining in the neon light pouring through the loft window, "come on, Onto. Be my beau."
"That isn't funny."
"It is funny, because I'm needling your weakness."
"I don't have weaknesses."
"We both know that's a lie."
"I'll wear the blasted 'duds' if you stop antagonizing me for being a man."
Sabel kicked the outfit across the floor at him. Ontoroch caught it in his hands and glared up at her, "this lifestyle won't come as easily to me as it does to you, 'Shadow.'"
"That's true, but, you're wrapped up in things now, whether you like it or not, so–"
A holocall. Ontoch leapt at the desk and hit the answer button, "Senator."
Kayatonae's hologram stood with arms crossed. "Status report."
Ontoroch sighed, "we're getting ready to make contact."
"Well hurry it up, I already got a message from our guy saying he's on his way."
"I'll remind you, Senator, that I am doing this as a personal favor."
"And I'll remind you that Sabel answers to me, and she's already spared your life once. Fickle bitch might not do it a second time."
Sabel laughed in that deep, chesty way she often did when she was especially amused at someone else's expense, "we've come such a long way from kismet on the hyperlanes."
Ontoroch leaned back and walked away from the call, "oh, yes. Good friends, all of us."
Kayatonae clicked the pen in her hand on and off, "just get going, I don't think this is the kind of guy who likes being jerked around."
Sabel smirked, "he is, but, that's unrelated."
Ontoroch was changing out of his robes in the bathroom now, "gross."
Kayatonae clicked her pen again, checked her watch, "alright."
The Senator terminated the call and Sabel checked her purse, her communicator, datapad, pepper spray, mint gum, etc. "Five minutes, Onto, I'll be downstairs."
Ontoroch grunted from the bathroom, and Sabel shut the door to the loft behind her to descend down into the convenience store floor. There, behind a mass of blasterproof, fireproof, explosion-proof plasteel was a lazy-eyed, black-furred wookie admiring a centerfold spread from one of his own stock of Xeno-Hotties Monthly.
"Banto's crew owes me money," said the wookie, without looking up from the magazine.
Sabel grabbed a Choco-chonk and a can of Sandblaster, then stuffed them into her purse for the road. "Again, Ushuk?"
Ushuk blinked, one eye after the other, over the edge of his magazine, "again."
Sabel grabbed a stick of MysterySnap jerky from the counter and peeled back the wrapper to take a bite. Synthetic, orange cheese squirted into her mouth from the filling, "well," she chewed, "what the chud do you want me to do about it?"
"Get my money back."
"How much does he owe?"
"Forty-thousand."
Sabel coughed, chewed, leaned on the counter, "say again?"
"Forty-thousand."
"What'd he do?!"
"Stole my speeder."
"That idiot. I'll talk to him."
"Please do," Ushuk lifted his magazine and licked one of his hairy fingers to turn to a new page. He laughed at one of the sensible jokes in the articles section. Sabel took a breath and mentally added 'talk sense into Banto' to her list of nightly errands.
Onto, at last, came down, wearing a studded collar, a black hood with cloak, a belt with a buckle that read '4 MOM', tight bantha-leather pants, and an expression that could crumble stone into rotted gravel. Sabel and Ushuk both looked at him for a moment. Ushuk suppressed a chuckle, and Sabel beckoned, "come on, beau, don't keep me waiting."
"I am miserable."
"Perfect. You'll be convincing, then."
"Bye, beau," gargled Ushuk, as they went out the door. It took all of Onto's will to focus on the task at hand and not make a very rude gesture at the wookie.
They stepped outside into the street, and stuck to the catwalks and hanging bridges that hung between towering, densely-packed skyscrapers. The mid-tier of Parlor District was busy at any time, but at the moment it was particularly crowded. The two plainclothes Jedi wove through foot traffic to get to the edge.
Lanterns glowed over the railing and speeder traffic rushed by in both directions. Sabel used her communicator to hail a cab. While they waited, she glanced at Onto, who looked the the world's most grim male escort.
"You know what love is, Onto?"
"I am a Jedi. I do not know love."
"Love is letting go."
"Is this conversation really necessary?"
Their automated, driverless speeder cab pulled in, flashing its lights and opening its doors for them to get in. Sabel hopped in first, with Onto just behind her. The doors shut and she looked at him through the shadows of the backseat, as she leaned far away from him against the window and propped a boot up on the seat between them. Her languid, easy manner was, as ever, stirring to him, and so he stared out his own window and ignored her.
Sabel wouldn't stop staring at him.
He grit his teeth, as he saw a man slapping a woman on the street as they sped through the city. He saw spiceheads slumped in front of parlors, wasted on a legal drug. He saw hundreds of bodies in seconds, of all races, all corners of the galaxy, reduced to living here. "I hate this place," he said, "how can we call ourselves Jedi here? We hide ourselves, we ignore the evil all around us, we pick and choose what injustices to address."
"Is that what makes a Jedi, Onto? The robes?"
"You know that isn't my point."
"Places like this are where life lives, Onto."
"What in the blazes is that supposed to mean? I look around and I see misery."
"No, you look around and you feel miserable. Most the people here don't give a damn."
"And I'm supposed to feel better because of that?"
"It isn't about you."
"I am aware. It is about the code, our oaths, our duty to protect innocent life."
"Our job is harm reduction, Onto – harm reduction. You want to do the most good in this universe, then you need to go down to the low places where life lives, and do harm reduction."
He shook his head subtly and closed his eyes, "as you say, Master Sabel. I will try to keep an open mind."
"That's all you ever do, is try. A master doesn't try, a master does, a master is."
"I have been told this many times, and I struggle to understand it. I am powerful in the Force, but I cannot work miracles. None of us truly can, so how can we do anything but try?"
Sabel shoved his leg a little with her boot. He swatted her away. She grinned.
"When someone tells you that, it means that instead of trying, an act that implies you are a separate entity pushing toward something, you should be the thing you are doing; absolutely present, absolutely it."
Ontoroch kept his eyes on the window, "as you say, Master Sabel."
Sabel rolled her eyes, "you can't be an infiltrator if you don't become things. It's not pretend, it's… real."
"I don't want to be an infiltrator, I just want to broaden my understanding of what the Order does, and the Shadows are a part of that. What I really want to know is how you don't lose yourself in the darkness of whatever face you're wearing."
"By understanding where it comes from, Onto."
He looked at her, finally, and saw the shadow over her face, those yellow eyes glowing melancholy in the dim light of the cab interior. He almost felt sorry for her, she looked so wretched. And then that easy smile of hers returned.
"This is us," she sat up as the cab slid to a stop and their balance was automatically billed with a ding. The doors opened and they stepped out onto a Parlor District Promenade.
The Promenade was an open park filled with glittering fountains and holo-trees, and even a few real trees contained in protective force fields; the people of Mek-Sha had a notorious habit of stealing real vegetation, as in the spacer city, such things were quite valuable. The tragedy of it was most who stole produce or vegetation then had no idea how to handle it, as they weren't accustomed to contraband that required care and nourishment.
Around the center of the Promenade, a man with hexagonal tattoos on his neck waited with an entourage of similarly inked humans. They wore a mishmash of combat gear, street clothes, and spacer tools on their belts, looking like they were the short party of a newly-moored ship who didn't plan on staying ashore very long. Everyone in the Promenade recognized their ink and gave them a wide berth.
These were Nihil.
Sabeline walked toward them with Onto in tow. Sabel, too, had the same ink on her neck, and moved with an easy swagger Ontoroch failed to match. He was too much a practiced swordsman, and his footfalls were entirely too deliberate. The Nihil shore party moved to meet them in the center of the Promenade.
The leader of the party spat on the ground between them and thumped at Onto, "who?"
Sabel reached out with the toe of her foot casually, smearing that puddle of spit in an arc between them, "this is Onto, my guy."
"Your guy?"
"My guy."
Ontoroch did as he'd been instructed, just standing by Sabel like a proper body man, looking as grim and ready to go as he actually was – so that wasn't too hard.
The party leader got right up into Onto's face, so close he could still smell a ship's airlock ozone on his skin, and the pungent reek of smoked combat stims, which reminded Onto of the stench of burnt human hair (as if the bloodshot eyes and faint twitch weren't a giveaway).
"Your guy is weird, Sabby, real, real, real cuttin' weird."
Sabel didn't interfere. Onto maintained his composure, as he genuinely did not fear the man, and could sense through the Force he was unstable. When the gut punch came, it did not work out the way the shore party leader intended, as Onto had stepped cleanly into it and aside to glance the blow across his hard stomach, then gently wrap his fist around the offending wrist, squeeze, turn, kick into the back of a knee, lift, wrench, wait for the pop, and…
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! AAAAAAA! LET GO!"
Sabel lit a deathstick and eyed the rest of the shore party, then looked down at their very high squad leader as he was bent onto his knees with his arm stretched painfully backward by Onto's gentle grip. "I told you," she said, exhaling smoke into his face, "he's my guy."
"HehehEHEHEHAAAAEEEEUGH- HUHUHU that hurts, okay, okay okay!"
Sabel nodded to Onto. Onto let go and the man doubled back onto his feet, shook it off, rolled his shoulder, and laughed in the jittery way a stimmed up meathead always did, "haaaaa, alright, serves me right, serves me good and right for cuttin' around and finding out, eh?!"
Sabel twirled the deathstick over her spidery fingers and looked bored, "yep."
"Admiral's got a message for ya, and I'm told you got a package for him."
"Yep."
Sabel dug into her purse and tossed her datapad to the shore party. It was caught, and in exchange, they tossed back a datapad of their own. A tech in the shore party did a quick scan of the offering, skimming through files, parsing this and that, before looking at their leader. "Looks right so far, but I gotta take it back to the ship's brain to really comb it over."
Sabel tilted her head, "ship's brain?"
The shore party leader grinned, "new tech straight from the Eye, Sabel, you've been missing out on all the fun."
"What kind of tech?"
The Nihil tech officer spoke up, "quantum computing for better flight assist, better subsystem control, better on-deck amenities and autopilot, better hyperlane calculations… you name it, it does it. Everything short of being a god-droid, I guess."
Sabel was outwardly calm, as ever, but internally, there was a lance of fear going through her. Codebreaking. She kept up the conversation, "maybe I should get back to the Admiral's side earlier, then – spying on Jedi is boring."
"Now now now, little Shadow, five more years, that was the deal, five more years of gifts and you can come back home to daddy," the party leader grinned, making air smooches.
At that taunt, Onto sensed Sabel's rage through the Force. It was like a dragon's malice, rising up in her guts as an almost inhuman sensation, a primal feeling, and above all it felt like murder. Yet despite sensing this, her facade remained untouched and cool. She smoked in peace, then dropped the half-finished deathstick on the ground.
"Do me a favor, Thadus," she looked at the shore party leader with narrowed eyes, "tell the Admiral I'm sorry for the contents of that package."
"Oh ho? His pet didn't deliver?"
"Oh, she delivered. But to do it, I had to cut a deal with a Republic Senator, and there's some sneaky stuff on that datapad you'll find if you break the encryption."
"Sneaky stuff? You trying to double-cross the Admiral?!" Thadus' pecs twitched and he puffed himself up like a sand snake, hand going to his blasters.
Onto braced, but Sabel put a hand over his arm. She stared Thadus down, "look, I have to deal with a lot of people I hate to do this job, Thadus, and sometimes I gotta play lip service to egotistical, self-absorbed, overbearing jackdaws to get the things I need to get to do my job. The Admiral understands it, but you don't have to."
Thadus kept his hands on his blasters, but didn't draw just yet, "hmmmngh. Okay, spy girl, I get your drift. But if the Admiral doesn't like what he sees, I'm coming back."
"I love the sentiment, but you don't really scare me, Thadus."
Thadus giggled, plucked an odd, needled chip from his belt pouch. Sabel recognized it immediately, and Onto felt that rage of hers spiking again. Thadus looked around the crowds of the Promenade, "hmmmmm…"
Sabel, for a moment, lost her composure, "what are you doing, Thad."
"I'm gonna give somebody the bug."
Ontoroch sensed the tension, and it took all his willpower and all Sabel's prior training to prevent himself from lashing out and cutting Thadus down then and there.
Thadus marched right over to a woman in a restaurant worker's uniform, who had been taking a smoke break by the fountain and paying attention to her datapad. She looked up with tired eyes just in time to see Thadus looming over her. He grabbed her arm and she jerked away, sword at him, but he was about twice her size.
Sabel hissed, "THAD!"
"I'll come back for THIS ONE, HEH," Thadus jammed the needled chip into the woman's shoulder. She screamed in agony as the needles expanded into barbs and the tracking implant came online. It dug deep into her flesh, seeking bone, to root itself and threaten catastrophic physical damage if removal was ever attempted.
Thadus threw the woman onto the ground and spat on her. No one nearby dared intervene, though many looked on with an expression of helpless pity. The woman's screams set Onto's teeth on edge. He wondered where Sabel's harm reduction was now.
Even Thadus' own team looked on him with a kind of exhaustion, but they didn't say a word against him. His tech slipped the datapad into a bag, and Thadus pointed at Sabel, "keep it where it is, bitch. The Admiral will see you for what you are, or aren't, eventually. HEH."
Thadus turned to leave and swaggered off. He hooted, "FREEDOM! NIHIL RIDE!" The shore party echoed him, though with significantly less enthusiasm, to the point where one of them was punched so hard in the side of the head they dropped to the ground for a solid seven seconds before composing themselves and staggering off to catch up.
Ontoroch watched the scene in horror, paralyzed, and so morally, spiritually repulsed he could not even begin to sort through the dark emotions clouding his mind. Between Sabel's own rage and the screams of this poor woman writhing on the ground with some torture implant in her shoulder, the way forward had never been less clear.
Sabel rushed toward the woman on the ground, cradling her head and wiping her tears. The woman clung to her, begging for the agony to end. Sabel, even through that hurricane of rage and murderous intent, managed find the eye of the storm, her golden center, and focus the part of the Force she held in highest regard.
The barbed implant was grasped on all angles by telekinetic power, its individual, buried hooks bent, clipped, and dulled, then slowly lifted out of the woman's bleeding shoulder. Ontoroch rushed to Sabel's side when he realized what was happening.
Sabel spoke like she had not slept for days, a bone-deep exhaustion, a trance, "Onto… the spray in in my bag, use it."
Onto reached into her purse and grabbed the MediPlast spray, uncapping it and watching as the tracking bug was lifted free. He sprayed the quick-sealing, antiseptic plaster over the wound, and the poor woman in Sabel's arms shuddered with some relief.
Sabel grabbed the bug and smashed it in her bionic hand, then looked the woman in the eyes, "you fell and cut your shoulder. We helped you. Take some time off of work."
Ontoroch picked up on what she was doing and slipped a credit chit into the woman's weakened fingers. He then rose and addressed some onlookers, "she fell, and hit her shoulder badly. You all should have helped, but we did."
The gawking crowd nodded in understanding, and a few, whether from guilt or suggestion, came forward to help the woman onto her feet.
Sabel grabbed Onto's elbow, "we're going. Now."
Chapter 3 - False Eyes
Dr. Anktas opened the window to his clinic in the Jedi Temple. Outside, there was a planter box filled with medicinal herbs he watered and cared for every few days. They were a stark contrast to the wonderland of gleaming, lifeless, state-of-the-art tech filling the room behind him – all gear customized to attend to the unique needs of force-sensitive cyborgs.
Anktas hummed an old folk song to himself, rang the bells hanging from his flat neck three times as he closed the window halfway, and lit a stick of shardwood incense to cleanse the room of any negativity that might have been building up over the past day.
A knock on his door. It was his nurse.
"Your 0700 is here, Dr. Anktas. But…"
Dr. Anktas turned his eyestalks toward her and blinked slowly, "but?"
"... she's… um. Not cooperating."
Dr. Anktas brought up the schedule on his monitor, and saw the name for the first schedule of the day was "FIELD AGENT 3."
He blinked again, and nodded, "please page the pysch-team and have them on standby."
"You don't want them here now?"
"I'll speak to our patient first, I have a relationship with her."
"Understood, right this way, doctor."
Dr. Anktas proceeded down the sterile hallway toward the lobby. He could hear a voice muffled through the door he hadn't heard in many years. It sounded agitated, and was yelling, "NO" periodically to the receptionist. Dr. Anktas took in a breath and opened the door.
There she was, just as wild-eyed and tense as she had been a decade prior – perhaps, no – certainly moreso. The scars were always hidden with this one.
"Sabel," he said, standing near the door, "please, come in."
Sabel was pointing a pen at the receptionist, who leaned back in her seat with the look of a startled prey animal on her face. After a period of silence, Sabel snapped the pen, spilling ink on the desk and smearing it all over her hand.
Dr. Anktas gave the poor receptionist an apologetic look. As Sabel passed by him, she reached up and slapped her inky palm over the door frame, leaving a handprint. Dr. Anktas closed the door behind them and left the cleanup to his stunned staff.
"Come, Sabel, it will just be us in the next room."
"I can't… do this."
He noted she was trembling, possibly from malnutrition given her pallor, but with Sabel (like all other deep cover Shadows) mental instability and neural burnout were always a distinct possibility, if not a guarantee.
"It will be alright, Sabel, just a few more steps, now," he was sure to give her ample space and not touch her. He opened the door to the examination room, where the sun shone through the half-open window, and the incense burned peacefully. Sabel settled onto the examination table, surrounded by holo-screens and instruments.
Sabel looked at him, her synthetic, glowing-yellow eyes clicking in and out of focus as she scanned him by impulse, "thank you…" she said, after looking away, at the floor.
Dr. Anktas dug up her old medical records from the system's archives, and brought them on screen, "how long have you been feeling this way, Sabel?"
"Forever."
"I understand. Yes," he muttered a bit in his native tongue as he dissected her records, and the memories came back to him, of treating a young woman fresh from Rat Clan and padawanship, troubled and scarred, but triumphant in her Jedi training nonetheless, "you've always had trouble with your emotions."
"It's not the damned darkness, like those meathead Knights say – it's the black current, okay? It's the deep place, the empty place, that's the place I have to be or I don't get anything done at all, I just shatter." She spoke to her feet, as one finger tapped the edge of the table.
"Now, now. They're far from here and no one is judging you. You know I'm here to help, to perhaps see if any of this agitation is due to faulty cybernetics."
"I hope so."
"It is distinctly possible. The body is a holistic organism, and cyberware must be fine-tuned to its languages or things rattle out of shape quickly. Once one system fails, the rest follow suit – but here, let's have a look inside. I ask you to lie down – please?"
Sabel did as the doctor asked, lying down on the table and closing her eyes. One of her eyelids twitched, though, and refused to shut entirely.
Dr. Anktas zeroed in on this immediately, "have these muscles been bothering you?"
"Yes, for a while."
"The scar tissue has darkened, but other than that… hm. Let's start with a diagnostic."
Dr. Anktas connected her cerebral port to his systems via a cable. Data washed down the screen, showing off hormone levels, blood pressure, internal regulator cycles, battery integrity assessments, etc. All were within normal ranges, which was strange.
"Despite your clear agitation, your cortisol levels are normal."
"I keep myself in check."
The old doctor hummed. Something didn't sit right, but perhaps she was correct. Jedi did work in mysterious ways, after all. He ran another diagnostic to be sure. This time, it read just like the first one. Exactly like it, in fact – the Jedi had perfect equilibrium in her vitals.
"Are you focusing the Force as we speak? Trying to keep yourself calm?"
Sabel clenched her teeth, "trying."
Dr. Anktas hummed. He archived the diagnostic readout to Sabel's chart and focused on the matter more pressing to his healer's empathy: his patient's pain level.
He pulled down a scanning implement that fixed its waves on her face, "please remain still, I'm going to remove your orbicularis plating and have a look."
Sabel relaxed visibly, head to toe, as the Jedi found a kind of safety and meditative focus on an operating table more so than anywhere else. Dr. Anktas put his gear-glove, the various tools sticking from his fingers like claws, and leaned in close. Over the course of ten minutes he unwound the tight, synthetic bondings of the plate of flesh-colored 'skin' that hid the extent of Sabel's ocular augmentations. All around her implanted eyes was a beautiful mesh of artificial muscle, silver as sunlight on a still lake, and gleaming with light.
"I'm going to turn off the power from your bio-inverter, so your systems are going to go inert. You'll feel some numbness in your face, arm, and legs."
"That's fine."
Dr. Anktas clicked the inverter off, killing Sabel's implants' ability to draw power from her body's natural electrochemical processes, "alright… ah, yes. Here we are. It looks like you've some time-knotting along your intraocular muscles – goodness, I was at the top of my game when I made this for you, wasn't I?"
Sabel smirked, "you were. Training up a successor?"
"Oh, I'll be at my peak for many decades yet, I think. I'm not worried about it just now, though, I could ask the same of you – do you have a padawan?"
Sabel stopped smirking, "no. An attache here or there, like a knight escort, but no formal padawan yet. I was gone for too long and I don't trust my own stability."
Dr. Anktas enjoyed smoothing out the time-knotting along Sabel's synthetic muscle fibers, cleaning them and restimulating them by manual control, "is that why you're here?"
"Doc, please…"
"It's important for me to have context, otherwise I cannot determine the cause of your symptoms – body, mind, spirit, all a holistic system. One informs the others."
Sabel sighed, "yes. The Council recalled me."
"Your deployment to Mek Sha was brief. Why?"
"I don't know, doc."
Dr. Anktan hummed as the fibers smoothed out, and then began the process of clicking the orbicularis plating back into place, "you dislike not knowing."
"I'm an open book to them, the least they could do…"
"... indeed. Well, consider it an opportunity to see me, and have a bit of maintenance."
Dr. Anktan flipped the inverter back on, and Sabel felt sensation come back. She blinked her artificial eyelids and felt the twitch gone, "thanks… that was driving me crazy."
"If my eyelid didn't close properly, it would drive me crazy as well – it is like the story of the beast with a thorn in its paw. Sometimes the smallest pains can drive us mad."
"You're more right than you know."
"Ah ha, I am very aware of how right I am, most times. That's why I'm here."
Sabel saw the scanning device finish its work. She sat up when instructed to, and the rest of the examination went smoothly, with minor adjustments being made here and there. Dr. Anktan bid her to stand up again and he examined her breathing, too.
"Your lungs have been damaged, Sabel."
Sabel darkened, "yeah, injury sustained in the field."
Dr. Anktan noticed the dotted scars along Sabel's back, clearly the result of torture and puncture wounds. There were Nihil brands, expletives and degrading words dug into her skin, and he felt his heart sink, "you suffer too much for the Republic."
"I do what I have to."
"There are many already who would happily die for the Republic, Sabel."
"Not many who would be tortured, violated, and imprisoned for it, though – no glory, no memorial, no legacy. Just suffering and darkness, to be forgotten, even vilified if necessary, to protect the greater good. That's me, that's the Shadows, you know that."
Dr. Anktan saw her vitals on the nearby monitor remaining icy stable as she spoke of this, and he nodded, "I… I know it goes without saying, but, you have my discretion, always."
Sabel put her dress robes back on, tied her filigreed sash, and stuck her shoto-saber into the sash in the traditional fashion, "I won't hesitate to come back." She bowed.
"How are your emotions now?"
Sabel smiled, and he saw it was sincere and placid. She went to the door, "serene."
"Good. Keep that center, Sabel, as you always have, and keep me on speed-holo – you are the only Miralukan I have ever even heard of accepting bionic eye technology. Replacing vestigial ocular muscles is experimental, at best, but I hope the results are worth it for you."
Sabel opened the door, "have to blend in somehow."
On her walk to the chambers of the High Council, it seemed like her holo would burn a hole in the communications implant in her skull. She had to decline multiple calls, but she accepted the one from Ontoroch.
"Sabel," he looked sleepless over the holo, "how do you do it?"
"Without thinking about how I do it."
"Enough of that, Master Sabel, you know what I mean – how do you choose what to do, who to help, who to ignore, how to help in this chaos? Where suffering is the very air the people of Mek Sha breathe?"
"You focus entirely too much on the negative, Onto."
"How can I not? I told a woman this morning I would help her find her son, if only she would wait for me in the afternoon, because another person had not shown up to their tutoring that morning; I found her in someone's trunk. On my way home to help the other woman, I found her stabbed to death in her apartment, for reasons I can only begin to guess at."
"Her son was probably tangled up in gang stuff."
"Do you not even see my point? Even if I were a hundred people, this place would…"
"Go with the current, Onto, and let the dead go, but reduce harm where you can."
"This almost seems… pointless. Why not leave this world to rot?"
"A drop of water in a lake sends ripples far greater than its size."
"I see."
"You are not concerned with doing good, Onto, you are concerned with how you feel about doing good. Shut up and stop these constant spirals of selfish emotion."
Onto was silent for a few moments. He then bowed his head, his face the blank slate it always was when he was holding back his frustration, "I understand. Thank you, Master Sabel."
Sabel had the final word, "meditate on the quiet buzz of neon signs, the baseness of a cola ad using sex to sell chemicals and sweetener, the blaster shots in the night – meditate on that, on what the people you are so determined to 'save' have become used to. When you understand their world, you'll understand their expectations, and the stakes."
The call terminated then and there, as she was about to step into the chambers of the High Council. Ahead of her, she saw the tall, dark figure of Brijet, with her chocolate-colored coat of Cathar fur, and piercing, slitted green eyes as big as small citrus fruit, pale green like ice lichen. The elder Cathar waited in quiet repose, also in her dress robes for the occasion, leaning against the wall and watching Sabel approach. Sabel bowed deeply, "Grand Master Brijet."
"Do not bow, even here. Shadows must not acknowledge one another."
"Understood."
"I sense your nerves."
"I know what they want to talk about."
"Do you? Maybe."
Brijet gestured toward the tall doors of the High Council. The knights on duty opened them, and Sabel walked inside. Had she been wearing proper shoes her footsteps would have echoed throughout the chambers, but Sabel always wore her tight, padded footforms. Her entrance was noted by every great Jedi in the council, but she made no sound.
Stopping at the center of the ring of seats, she bowed, and felt the omnipresent pressure of a dozen trained, elder force-sensitives gazing into her being. She knew better than to mince words or bend the truth in this chamber of mirrors.
Master Yoda began, "welcomed home, again you are, Master Sabel. Hm."
One council member had a basso voice Sabel recognized as the grand master of the knights and forward rangers of the Order: "she reeks of the dark side."
Grand Master Brijet joined them, settling into her empty seat and curling her legs up under herself like a resting beast, "darkness, yes. The dark side? No. One does not become corrupted merely by swimming through troubled waters."
"Perhaps so. I will leave the matter of Shadows to you."
Sabel kept her center in the middle of it all, but could not help speaking on this matter, "I passed my examination and debriefing trials when I returned five years ago. This Council gazes into my center now, and sees peace, do you not?"
There was a pause as the Council collectively reached a consensus in silence. Yoda spoke for all, as he often did, "peace, yes. But more there is than peace – or, less, it may be said. Less, and less, and less."
Sabel bowed slightly, "forgive me. Explain?"
Yoda sat up in his seat and gazed into her eyes with those bright little dragon's eyes of his. He smiled, "Master Fen would say, 'most useful, is a bowl, when it is empty.' But! Empty bowl, useful yes, but! But! When holes at bottom, hm? Empty with holes? Useful still?"
It took her a moment to decipher his meaning, but then she nodded, "I let things go… too easily? I have memory loss, blank spots? Yes, probably."
Sabel closed her eyes and accepted whatever punishments they would be heaping on her. Perhaps at long last she would be retired from the Order, deemed too great a risk, and put on indefinite house arrest to live out the rest of her days in rest and luxury on Coruscant.
She could only hope.
Grand Master Brijet looked upon Sabel and leaned forward, her big green eyes soft in a way Sabel had never witnessed, "there is detachment, Sabel, and then there is callousness. There is gentleness and grace, Sabel, and then there is the rough armor of scar tissue."
Despite herself, tears flowed hot down Sabel's cheeks, and so much of her, held together by spite, determination, and viciousness, fell apart. She was humiliated, but at least she remained standing, "I understand."
That basso voice was gentle, too, the great knight handling her with an armored hand that could have picked a flower if it wanted to, "I sense now your agony. We have glimpsed only a smear of the horror you have endured in your absence, at the hands of the Nihil. An oath to you, Sabel the Scarred: they will be dealt with. Already the Rangers are calculating counterplay, thanks to the intelligence you and other Shadows brought forward."
Sabel felt her knees weakening. She had been so conditioned to expect conflict and betrayal that the warmth of the Council was surreal. She had entirely forgotten one aspect of being a Jedi: kindness, empathy, gentleness. Not merely strength, discipline, detachment, intuition, good judgment, but the soft things that make life flourish.
Sabel did not wipe her tears, but let them stain her tattooed neck, "thank you."
Again, the basso knight spoke, "the intensity of your emotions startles me. But, they pass like solar flares – bright spikes that fade as quickly as they rise."
He looked to Brijet, as if for counsel, and Brijet nodded to him, "she was Rat Clan. Emotional dysregulation disorder, traumatic childhood from loss of family during the Nihil slave raid of '23. Like most of her peers, she has mastered herself in a way unique to her challenges."
"Is it truly wise to cultivate damaged force-sensitives into becoming Jedi?"
Master Yoda laughed, "ahh, but who needs the Jedi way more than troubled minds? Cast not aside the warped wood and its many knots – for strong, it is, if patience to work with it, you have."
The great knight smiled, "I have patience, but it isn't my strength. How fortunate our Order has become so diverse."
Sabel spoke during the silence that followed, "I still have work to do."
"You have become so adept at hiding your motivations, Sabel, that even we struggle to discern your actual motivations for doing what you do."
"I know that matters, but I'm not trying to hide anything."
"We know. That is what makes it all the more concerning – that at a crucial moment, your actions will not be guided by the Force, but instead the scars you bear, whether you intend to or not, it doesn't matter."
Sabel wiped at her eyes finally, "I see. Then what?"
Another long silence. This time, Sabel let it hang, and stood in place.
Brijet spoke for the Council consensus, this time, "I'll speak for the Council, as I've the most experience with you and the challenges of the Shadows."
The rest of the Council nodded. Brijet leaned back in her seat, and the cool exterior of an arbiter passed over her like a raincloud. Sabel found it a comforting return to form.
Brijet steepled her clawed fingers, "I personally believe you are adept at field work, are much keen in judgment, and possess a wealth of firsthand, muscle-memory knowledge of the Nihil. You are among a handful of Shadows who have such gifts, and we cannot part lightly with you. However, I understand the concerns of the Council and before you arrived, we deliberated this for some time, only to have you come here and present yourself to conclude matters, perhaps, sway some toward consensus."
Sabel did not realize she was holding her breath as she listened.
Brijet laced her fingers and set them on her lap, "some have changed their mind, upon gazing into you, others… softened, at least. Scars or not, you are among the best at what you do, and unfortunately, you will be key in our efforts going forward."
Sabel bowed, "why unfortunately, if I may ask."
"Because, Sabel, as someone who has handled you since you were a youngling, as the woman who fished you from… things you only have nightmares about, now – ah. Well. I had hoped to retire you, give you the rest and peace you deserve. But, we are facing a foe that only proves to be more complex and pernicious over time. The more we learn, the more we realize we do not know about them. The Nihil are dangerous, you know this – maybe you don't even realize how broad their threat is."
The great knight rubbed at his beard and added his thoughts, "in a pitched fight, they scatter like vermin. But their mastery of the hyperlanes and ambush tactics lends them an advantage that renders us vulnerable. Too vulnerable. A lightsaber is useless if it cannot reach its enemy, or the arm that wields it is cut off from the shadows."
Sabel nodded, "I know all of this, and I am glad the Council is finally coming around."
Yoda held up a hand, "patience, we have, to see all things in their time. Conspiracies with the Senator, hm? Told us, Brijet did. Strange methods, Shadows have."
Sabel stared at her feet, "I cleared everything with Brijet. She knows about my involvement with Kayatonae and her cabinet."
Brijet glanced at the rest of the Council, "things have changed. We can no longer rely on the Republic itself for military assistance in the matter of the Nihil."
Sabel snapped her gaze back up, "what?!"
It was the great knight who spoke, "the Republic is in an era of peace, and intends to stay that way. Even the merchant marines are more merchant than marine, these days, and it falls to us to form the primary layer of protection around this garden. We are the wall that protects civic harmony and we won't ask those who have no insights into death and the Force to stand, fight, suffer, and die in fear and confusion any longer."
Sabel detected a hint of pride in his voice and narrowed her eyes, "we are cultivating a society of children. They, too, should understand death and suffering, like the people on the fringes of the Republic do – not everyone in the galaxy can or should be a beneficiary of Coruscant's prosperity. Even here, below our feet, people live in squalor."
The Grand Master Knight was steadfast, "we will be the wall. Come what may."
Sabel looked around at the Council, "I see. Well… Senator Kayatonae still wants to consolidate some kind of political will into forming a rapid response force. Am I permitted to aid her in that, or am I being assigned to other tasks?"
Brijet leaned in, "we see no harm in it, but understand that she will likely be politically suffocated by the senatorial majority, and any plans she has to form such a force will need to be done outside of standard channels. Something I'm sure you've already been doing."
"Yes, but, this completely changes our playbook – will you inform her, Master Brijet, or is she going to be set up to fail?"
Brijet frowned, "even if we shared our foresight with her, she would insist on trying her case officially before the Senate. The burned hand teaches best, after all – stay close to her, and advise her in the future that a rapid response force would need to draw volunteers only, preferably, from irregular sources."
Sabel's mind darkened a moment. Irregular forces. Like poor, desperate people from the fringes. She stifled the thought, and bowed, "I will. Is there anything else?"
The Council shared a collective chuckle. Yoda spoke for the consensus, "finished, you think we are, Master Sabel? Begun, we have not."
The doors to the Council chambers opened. Sabel glanced behind her, to see Master Z walking in, and beside him, a gangly, eyeless gamine named Dao.
Chapter 4 - Child's Sight
The windows in the chamber of the High Council shifted. Sabel looked up, her bionic eyes shifting to adjust to the sudden downpour of warm dawnlight, as grand shutters in the vaulted ceiling drew open to signify the official commencement of the day's deliberations. Sabel was used to the shadows, the cool, dark corners of life that made her feel safe; standing here, surrounded even by her trusted elders, she felt exposed and powerless.
But that was the point. Jedi were meant to be humble and transparent. Anything that emphasized and encouraged those feelings was good.
Master Z stepped into the light, his jeweled rings and gilded girdle shining like they belonged there. He sniffed and clapped Sabel hard on the shoulder, "hey, kiddo."
"Master Z," Sabel looked past him, to the tall, long-limbed girl nearby, "Dao."
Dao stood in silence at first, then bowed, "Master Sabel."
Sabel crossed her arms gently behind her back, "they've told you all about me?"
"Yes."
Sabel turned to address the Council again, "let's begin, then."
The Council shared a subtle laugh. Brijet tapped her claws on the arm of her seat, "oh, we have your permission at last. Who will be the consensus speaker, then?"
The Council was silent for a few moments. Dao looked at Master Z, "what's that?"
"They're kind of… figuring things out without words. But one of 'em has to speak to us."
"Oh."
A longer period of silence. Sabel shifted her feet, felt her neck itch. Finally, she spoke out of turn, "I know what this is about. So why don't I just address it directly?"
Brijet held up a palm toward Sabel, "please, Sabel, try to relax, and try not to jump to conclusions. This is more complex than you realize."
"Very well," Sabel relented, bowing her head and focusing on her breathing. Deep, circular, silent breaths, flooding the body with vital air, vital gratitude. Calm. This perhaps wasn't what she thought it was. Serenity. After all, they had provnd her wrong once already, proven to her that there was not punishment and cruelty around every corner of life. Inner peace. Yes, perhaps everything would be fine, and they had some interesting news, an interesting, multi-faceted perspective for her to contemplate for years to come.
The Council's eyes focused once more. It was Brijet who spoke for the consensus, "in light of this new development, I will proceed with a series of questions, Sabel. Are you ready?"
Sabel breathed, "I'm ready."
"Is this your child?"
Brijet gestured to Dao. Dao, for her part, grimaced suddenly and looked very confused, "wait, what? No."
Master Z squeezed Dao's shoulder, "let them finish…"
Master Sabel answered simply, "yes."
Dao's head swam. She thought back to her mother's kindness, her family's warmth, those memories now five, six, seven years old and fading, which had become lodestones of comfort. Dao found it difficult to remain silent, "she is not my mother."
Sabel looked over her shoulder at Dao, not able to face her just yet, "I am."
Dao's lip curled. Something in her was tense, even angry, "you are not, not in any meaningful sense of the word! You couldn't be anyone's mother!"
Brijet and the Council watched the exchange in silence, perhaps learning more from it than any premeditated line of questioning could. To them, the emotional energies between Dao and Sabel crackled like lightning, and betrayed a connection through the Force that was… intriguing, as well as damning, and more than a little concerning.
Brijet interrupted, "Sabel. We spoke of this, ten years ago. Remember? You were in deep cover."
"Yes."
"You were unable to break away from the Nihil for long periods."
"Yes."
"And you mentioned you had become pregnant."
"Correct."
A few members of the Council made quiet sounds of surprise, distaste. Brijet looked to the Grand Master of Jedi Knights, Kuso, and noticed his jaw was clenched. Brijet gently prodded him, psychically, and spoke, "go on, Master Kuso. Speak your mind."
Master Kuso did just that, "so, your fraternization with the Nihil went far beyond anything we could have imagined. Your duties did not require you to… form attachments, such as this, with enemies of the Republic and the Order."
Sabel looked tired. She was tired. Her eyes were empty as she stared at Master Kuso, and he could read nothing of her, for there was no emotion in her to betray, "Master Kuso, have you ever been a woman in captivity?"
Master Kuso softened immediately, and looked around, realizing what he had stepped in, "I cannot say I have."
"Then you must realize no such attachments were formed. Do not make me speak further of this in front of the child."
Master Kuso, to his credit, stopped talking.
Dao felt the energy of the room like the uncomfortable radiance of a space heater that was just a few inches too close to the skin, "I am not a child, I am a person, and I have proven myself ten times over. Master Z knows, Master Fen knows – you can tell me whatever awful truths you want to tell me, 'mother.'"
Master Z sighed and ran a hand through his combed hair, "stars above, Dao, I never seen you like this. Where's that center? Who is gonna be going on a field trip to Ilum with Brunt and Oren and all your friends in a few weeks?"
Dao wrinkled her nose, "me."
"Well, yeah, maybe, if you get it together right here and now."
Dao glanced at her feet in quiet shame, "sorry."
"Don't be sorry, be better."
"Yes, Master Z. Apologies Master Sabel, I am speaking out of turn, on matters I do not understand," Dao bowed deeply, and did her best to empty herself of emotion.
Sabel smiled a little, when Dao wasn't looking. It was a smile of faint pride, and vanished as soon as Dao was looking again, "it's fine, Dao. Your deference does you credit."
"Thank you."
It was Master Yoda, at last, who rapped his cane on the floor and cleared his throat, "of this show, we have had enough, hm?"
The Council murmured in agreement. As if in tune with them all, the sun's rays shining through the ceiling brightened as morning clouds shifted. Master Yoda carried on the examination himself, "distractions, these are. Masks. But masks do not always hide something, yes? Affixed to a blank slate, a mask can be. When nothing beneath the mask there is, what then becomes the mask? An expression. A symbol, yes? Communication."
Brijet furrowed her brow and she wasn't the only one. Even for the Council, Yoda's points could sometimes prove elusive, "Master Yoda, we sense your meaning, but perhaps you could speak more clearly for all present."
Master Yoda smiled and pointed at Sabel and Dao with his stick, "mother and daughter in name only. A conceit we apply, as outsiders. Look deeper, through the Force, and there is no attachment. Like mother, like daughter – two empty bowls, yes?"
Master Z scratched at his stubble, "yeah."
Yoda's ears shifted, "Master Z. Speak more on this, could you not? Please. Do."
Master Z rolled his neck, popping it, and daydreamed about a cup of JoyCaf from the convenience store down on the corner. He rattled his second tired sigh of the morning, "look, High Council, I taught Sabel when she was little, and so did Master Fen. We've both been bringing up Dao, too, and I can tell you that these are a couple of the weirdest Jedi we've ever had, next to Brijet – no offense, Brijet."
Brijet purred, one clawed leg crossing over the other, "none taken."
Master Yoda held up a hand, "weird, you say. How is this? Explain."
"It's like you said, Master Yoda, they're a couple of empty bowls with holes in 'em. Emotions build up quick, then pass right through. Most younglings need to be taught the Jedi code over and over throughout life, or they stray, form attachments, get mixed up. But these two, from the get, don't need to be taught it – they embody it, strange as it is."
"Why, do you think it is, Master Z?"
"If I knew, I'd be sitting here next to y'all, I guess."
Master Yoda drew his stick back into his lap, "nonsense. More important work, have you. You may return to Rat Clan, Master Z – useful, your perspective was. As always."
Master Z bowed, clapped both Dao and Sabel on their respective shoulders simultaneously, and smiled, "good luck, ladies."
And with that, he left the room, leaving Dao and Sabel exposed in the light.
The Council willed the light to end. The shutters above the chamber slid shut, the lights dimmed, and both Sabel and Dao were relieved by the shade. The only light that remained in the room was the dim light of candlespheres. Collectively, the Council reached into the Force around them all, and revealed to Dao and Sabel a shimmering tether that bound their souls together.
"There," said Brijet, pointing a claw, and looking at Sabel, "is what you must explain."
Dao passed her hand through the tether of Force, and as she did, her mind flashed visions of pain, of men crowded around her leering, of ship's alarms blaring, of sweat and fear, of blood – Dao tore her hand away and gasped.
Sabel looked at her with pitying eyes, "I didn't mean for this to happen."
Dao swallowed tears of confusion and fear, as the visions still echoed in her mind. She fell to her knees, "was that… your life?"
"Yes."
Dao gulped, leaned her head into her arms and curled up on the floor, forgetting she was surrounded by the Council's curious eyes. It was Master Yoda who rose, to place a gentle hand on the youngling's back, and sooth her.
"Fleeting ghosts, they were," he said, "the source of nightmares, we have found."
Now it was Sabel's turn to bury her face in her hands. She had never, ever intended to expose anyone to the pain of her life. And she intended to make as much clear to the Council. Sabel rubbed her fingers down her face and clasped her hands at her belly, took a steadying breath, "somehow, it seems, she and I have been bound by the Force. I am no expert in esotericism, masters, and I humbly request your guidance on the matter."
Master Fen, who had been sitting in silence since the beginning, was now revealed to all. She sat in the seat closest to the darker corner of the hall, the hood on her robes drawn, and her pale, long hair hanging in braids over her shoulders. At the behest of her colleagues, she spoke on the matter at last:
"It is exceedingly rare, but not unheard of."
Brejit led the line of inquiry, "and what is it?"
"A Force bond. A permanent one."
"Is it because they are mother and daughter?"
"Yes and no. Yes, because such a thing is likely to occur through the dawn of life, where two souls are closest – child gestation and birth."
"So, something happened to Sabel, while she was carrying Dao."
"Very likely so. What that was, I can only guess at, and I imagine Sabel, given the trauma of her time in deep cover, can only guess as well. Is that correct, Shadow?"
Sabel bowed to revered Master Fen, "correct. Much of that time is a blur. Only what I recorded in my implants is truly reliable – my mind is fallible."
"Just so, as the doctor noted in your initial debrief. The data you covertly recorded was of great use to the Order and the Republic, but you were… mentally, in a bad way, Sabel."
Sabel crossed her arms, "I'm fine now."
Master Yoda held Dao's hand, who still sat in a daze on the floor. He looked up to Sabel, "fine, yes. Functional, yes. A machine, you are not – a Jedi, you are."
Master Kuso stroked his beard and made a mighty 'hmmmm' that caught the attention of his peers. Brijet looked at him expectantly. He blinked at her, perhaps not realizing the depth of his thoughts, "if I understand you all, then, why has this 'bond' not manifested until now?"
Master Fen gestured to Dao, "she nears padawanship and is still a child, but not for long. Soon she will be a young woman. Much changes at that time – some Jedi who were seen as lesser as younglings, may become far more potent than expected in their adulthood or teenage years. It is a time of tumult and surprises, for all involved."
"And what of the bond, then? If it torments the girl, then it will be an endless distraction for her as she nears the most difficult part of her ascension."
"That is true, Master Kuso, but it is not as if we can slice it with a lightsaber."
"And even if we could, that would no doubt have unforeseen consequences."
"No doubt."
The High Council shared a collective 'hmmm' of sagely deliberation. Dao found her strength again, rose to her feet, and looked at Sabel, looked at the dull red of her aura, and the ever-growing gold of her core. Dao walked into the tether between them, felt the pain, and for the first time in her life, moved toward another's suffering, even if it frightened her (which in this case, it did).
The Council watched as Dao placed her hand on Sabel's arm. Sabel flinched away, but only by reflex. She looked down at this girl, saw in her face a baby she'd forgotten, and felt like she should have felt some kind of emotion, some kind of ache in her heart, or tingling on her skin like a mother ought to. But she felt nothing but quiet, cool… sympathy. Fondness, perhaps.
Nothing else.
For once, the High Council found themselves concerned over an individual's lack of emotion, rather than their abundance of it. It was Master Yoda, once again, who spoke on Dao's behalf, as he circled the pair on his cane, "mmm… scars beyond the body, Sabel has. Scars within the mind, the soul, as well. Deep scars. Knotted scars. A perilous thing, this is."
Master Kuso seemed the only one who was unconcerned, "and what of it? A warrior is defined by scars, and only made more resilient for them. Sabel's detachment from her child can only prove beneficial for this strange circumstance."
But Master Fen tutted, "not so, Master Kuso."
"Oh?"
"Scars do not lead to detachment, they lead to numbness, callousness – this, more than anything, is Sabel's current struggle as a Jedi. She has lost touch with her soul, and the Force, it…"
Dao felt Master Fen's senses probing around Sabel's aura. Dao spoke without thinking, "the Force isn't flowing through her, it's flowing around her."
"Just so, child."
Dao felt her heart ache on Sabel's behalf, "is that what the red is? The Force kept at bay, like a blade in the hand, rather than air and water moving through the body?"
"Just so, child."
Sabel kept her arms crossed. Her eyes glazed over and she stared off at nothing, silent.
Dao touched her again and Sabel willed herself not to flinch away. She would not suffer that humiliation twice, and so she endured the child's hand grasping her elbow.
"Mother," Dao tested her, tilting her head.
Sabel felt her jaw clench, "stop that. We are Jedi."
Dao let go of Sabel and looked at the Council, now joining them in being at a loss. "I don't know what to do, Masters, but it's true that I can't endure these nightmares any longer."
Master Yoda hopped back up into his seat, "murky, the way forward is."
The High Council shared a nod and a 'hmmm' of thought; murky indeed.
Dao clasped her hands, beseeching them, "there must be a way to sever it."
Master Fen shared wisdom, "there is. We could, with time and focus, and your cooperation, cleave the force bond apart–"
Sabel shot in, "then do that! Please."
Master Fen held up a hand as a warning. Sabel bowed her head and fell silent. Master Fen continued, after settling back in, "- we could do it, but it would never truly be gone. An echo would remain, a numb hole, an open wound, forever cursing you with a sense of emptiness where the bond once was. Such an act is, regardless of intention, turning away from the Force."
"So be it," Sabel bowed again, "scars upon scars. What is one more?"
"It would not only affect you, Sabel – it would prematurely wound Dao, who is only just reaching her padawanship. It would inflict numbness upon a young Jedi who deserves the chance to keep their own spirit bright in the face of untold challenges. Would you wound her?"
Sabel retreated immediately from her position on the matter, sensing the point Master Fen was making, and knowing that she could not, as a Jedi, inflict such a thing on a new padawan, "I wouldn't, Master Fen. But…"
"But?"
"But perhaps the alternative is worse. Better to inflict a wound now that we can measure, rather than gamble on a long, perilous future of unpredictable nightmares, exhausting dreams, and fatigue that I alone can bear. I would not wish my inner world on anyone, let alone a child."
Once again, the High Council shared a collective 'hmmm' of consideration. Even Master Fen had a pensive look, as they all realized that Sabel's point was salient, and worth listening to.
"So it comes to this," Master Kuso said, leaning on his knee and gazing at the pair before them, "we choose between wounding a child, or possibly condemning her to endless suffering."
"A difficult decision."
"Yet a decision we must make, regardless – we are the Council."
Even Master Yoda was silent, sitting in meditation, and scratching his chin.
Master Kuso broke the silence once more, "how did this even come to pass?"
Sabel tried to answer, "when I was carrying her, I was in a daze. The Force alone kept me going through torture, mental fatigue, staving off the madness of the Nihil, and preventing my cover from being broken. I retreated deeply into myself. I relied on the Force by instinct alone, and went to dark places. Even my trip to Alpherides, where I gave birth to her with the aid of my covert contacts in the Luka Sene, was a blur of consciousness. I remember… her face, in the hut where they watched over me. And I remember the wind of home. But then I gave her away."
Master Fen rapped her long nails on her armrest, deep in thought as she sensed Sabel's memories and emotions throughout the tale, "you became an instrument of the Force for a time, lost to yourself and the world – you gave yourself wholly to it and trusted its will to see you through the darkest corners of the galaxy."
"Yes, Master Fen."
"And during that time, you were with child; even knowing this, it's still a highly unusual situation, but it makes sense, insofar as prior incidents of Force bonding are concerned. Shadows like you are rare, after all, and evils like the Nihil, rarer still. You would be celebrated into all the ages beyond this one for your courage and resilience, were you not a Shadow."
"Thank you, but the praise is not necessary."
"It isn't for you, Sabel," said Master Fen, looking at Dao, "this brave, wounded woman is your mother, Dao. In service to truth, beauty, the Republic, and the Jedi Order, she has sacrificed more than her life – it is a simple thing to die in a blaze of glory, and be remembered."
Master Kuso raised an eyebrow, "a simple thing, indeed? My fallen knights would question your choice of words."
"I do not belittle their sacrifices, Knight Master, I merely am demonstrating to the child the gravity of her mother's situation; Sabel does not embrace death, so much as she embraces the worst torments of life. For death is no hell like the galaxy can be. In death we celebrate our joyous return to the Force, the great source of all things. In life, we face horrors, and we face time itself; time, stretched by pain, becomes a mind-shattering abyss from which death is the only escape and I see that Sabel knows this too well."
Master Kuso frowned, "I still contend that she flirts with the Dark Side too much, that these pains and scars will only forge her into a misshapen representation of the Force."
"That may already be so. But even warped wood has a purpose, and can do good; do not deny her the chance to suffer nobly, for us and the Republic."
"This is all a bit too esoteric for me, respectfully, Master Fen; I would ask that we focus on the matter at hand, and make a decision. Do we end this bond now, or leave them to their fate?"
Silence again. But then, Master Yoda spoke up, "a false dichotomy, that is. Left or right? Up or down, hm? One implies the other. A third way, a synthesis, there always is."
Brijet spoke up with concern for the fate of her best agent, "and that is?"
"Let the child decide."
The Council chambers held the sound of a dozen masters shifting uncomfortably in their seats at Yoda's suggestion. Master Kuso scoffed, "you can't be serious. She is a child."
Brijet, for once, found herself siding with Kuso, "indeed, Master Yoda, we can't entrust such a thing to Dao – with respect to the promising youngling, it's too much."
Master Fen watched Dao. Dao felt the eyes on her, and something in Fen seemed to encourage her. Sabel, for her part, was staring off into nothingness again, detached, but listening.
Dao stepped forward, to present herself, "I don't know what the right thing is to do."
Master Kuso clapped his armrest, "ah, see? She is wise beyond her years, indeed."
Dao looked around at them, "I don't know what the right thing is to do, but I know what I want to do. Is that okay?"
Master Yoda nodded, then looked to his peers. They also nodded, and Dao was given leave to proceed with her thoughts.
"Whoever she is – my mother, your shadow, a Jedi master – she's very strong. My whole life, I've run away from reds, purples, blacks, and holes in auras. She has all of these things, and she scares me. But you say she's done good things, and all that pain is for a good reason. So, I think that life has a lot of pain in it, and I've seen it myself, in the Underworld. Sometimes people do really bad things to each other, and Master Z says it's usually because they don't know any better, or they've got pain themselves. It's very rare that it's because they're just some kind of monster, so, I guess what I want is…"
Dao groped around in her throat for the words. Her nose twitched and she combed her fingers through her hair, "what I want is to learn how to be brave. Because Master Z says the best thing a Jedi can be, that anyone can be, is brave. And it would be brave for me to learn from Sabel, or just to be around her. So if I have to suffer with her anyways, whether she's across the galaxy or not, maybe I should learn how to endure the suffering from her. Right?"
Dao looked at them, waited to be interrupted, but even Master Kuso was watching and listening with rapt attention. So, Dao tried to go on.
"Uh… so, what I want is for her to be my teacher. When – uh, if, I become a padawan, and pass my trials on Ilum. Maybe it will be good for her anyways? If we're forced to share, shouldn't the goal be to heal her hurts?"
Master Yoda smiled, looked smugly at his peers, and rapped his stick on his seat, "the third way, it is."
Chapter 5 - Guts
The next morning, in the neon glow of the Underworld, Dao stood at the edge of the gutterfalls staring down at the misty harbor below. She saw a family working together to make a net, which they then cast into the canals to fish for salvage and eels. The family worked mostly in silence, but sometimes they shared a joke or two, and seemed content with one another.
Next to Dao, Oren materialized from the shadows, "what you thinking about?"
"I don't know."
Brunt plopped down next to Dao, cracking open a can of breadcake and sticking a spoon in it, "you don't know what's in your own head?"
Dao kicked a little pebble over the gutterfalls, watched it careen down and be lost to the rippling water below, "nope."
Oren offered Dao some of her gummi meat nuggets, but Dao declined. Oren stuffed a handful into her mouth, "so," she chewed, "you really leaving early?"
"Yes. I have a new teacher assigned to me."
Brunt, for once, just played with his food rather than suck it down, "how come?"
"I shouldn't really talk about it too much."
Oren elbowed Dao's ribs gently, "talk about it a little, then."
Dao smiled at her, "okay, well, the Council decided I'd be good for this teacher."
Brunt raised a bushy eyebrow, "not the other way around?"
Dao kicked another pebble off the ledge, "yeah."
"That's weird," Oren swallowed her mouthful, then licked the salty insides of the bag, "but I guess we're Rat Clan for a reason."
Brunt shoveled a spoonful of spongy cake into his mouth, "always weird with us, huh."
Dao sensed something. She looked toward the end of the canals, closer to the entrance of the Underworld. She picked up her travel bag – a simple sheet tied with her training blade and an extra set of robes and sandals – and slung it over her shoulder. Dao threw herself over Brunt's giant shoulders like a kid hugging a giant, "when you're the greatest Jedi warrior of all time, Brunt, you promise you'll come when I need help?"
Brunt licked the spoon and didn't look at her. He grunted, but it was in the way he'd grunt when he meant 'of course, dummy.' Dao smiled and turned to hug Oren. Oren all but hissed in response, but allowed it. Dao squeezed her, "there's someone on the Council named Brijet, Oren. She trains Jedi called 'Shadows.' I bet you'd be a good Shadow."
Oren pushed Dao gently away to regain her space, "a Jedi Shadow? I didn't know Jedi liked shadows at all, they're always up there in the light."
Brunt scraped at his canned cake, "shadows are just as important as the light."
"One implies the other."
"Yes."
A custom lightspeeder, just barely big enough for two, flew down into the canals, kicking up a wake of water as it hovered over the surface and slid to a stop near the temple doors of Rat Clan's little hovel. Dao saw Master Z and the rest of the younglings gathered at the doorway as this lightspeeder approached. Master Z went out to meet it as the hatch opened, and out stepped a familiar, tall, pale woman in a master's robes.
Oren gaped at the woman, "that's… that's her."
Brunt stood up and crunched the can in his fist, "the creep."
Dao walked toward Master Z and Sabel, waving back at her good friends, "that's my teacher. She's a Shadow – don't judge an aura by its first color, okay?"
Brunt and Oren stalked after Dao. Brunt, in particular, wore his feelings in the form of a furrowed brow and grim scowl, "this doesn't seem right, Dao, I don't like the smell of her."
Oren, for her part, was more reserved, and chose to observe in silence, from a distance.
Master Z and Sabel shared a mutual, curt bow.
"Sabel."
"Master Z. I prefer not to linger."
"Heh, why would you. The kid's ready, she's said her goodbyes. Right Dao?"
Dao looked at her friends. They'd all talked about going to Ilum together, as Rat Clan, and having adventures, but deep down they all knew in the end, their fate as Jedi was determined by the will of the Force, and not their desire to stick together. And so their faces were forlorn, but quiet, having accepted that sometimes things were outside their control.
Brunt, though, crossed his hairy forearms and chuffed at the whole situation. Master Z gently swatted Brunt's shoulder with the back of his hand, "hey. Relax."
Brunt stared Sabel down like he often did his opponents in the dojo – his glare was infamous, a yellow-eyed, unblinking look that promised real trouble. It stopped most fights before they began. Sabel looked right back at him, met his gaze, and didn't flinch.
Dao felt the energy between them crackling and crimson. It made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Sabel smiled slowly, "I like this one. What's his name?"
Brunt grunted, "Brunt."
Sabel snapped her fingers and twirled her hand near her head, as if to file it away, "Brunt. Soon to be a great knight, I imagine."
Brunt gently spat on the ground at his feet, "I will study to be a Sage."
Sabel raised her eyebrows, "indeed? I'll keep an eye on you. Brilliance and brawn are a rare, precious combination."
"You keep an eye on Dao," he said, "and you care for her. She's too nice."
Sabel bowed to Brunt, a sincere gesture, "don't worry, Brunt. I'll see to that."
Master Z clapped his hand on Brunt's shoulder, "you done, killer?"
"I'm done," Brunt tossed the crushed cake can into a waste bin, turned his back to Sabel, and walked back toward the temple. Others followed, though Oren lagged behind to gawk at Sabel a few moments before following suit. Master Z rubbed at his stubble, "reminds you a bit of your old classmates, eh?"
Sabel took Dao's bag for her and tossed it into the small storage compartment on the lightspeeder, "this crop seems better. I was the only one to graduate from mine."
Master Z helped shut the storage compartment as Sabel swung around to sit in the driver's pit of the lightspeeder. Dao looked up to Master Z and he dropped to a knee to see her face-to-face, "listen, Dao."
"I'm listening."
"Don't get caught up in yourself and don't get caught up in her."
"Let the Force guide me, I know."
"Yeah – well, no."
"No?"
"No, it's not like that, you don't wanna get caught up in the Force, either."
Dao was confused and Master Z could read it on her face, "look, just… what was it you said to me, when you first started out here?"
"I don't know."
"Exactly."
Master Z ruffled the kid's hair, shooed her into the lightspeeder, and shut the hatch.
It was a rare, rainy day above ground on Coruscant. Water streaked across the domed windows above, and Dao found herself tracing finger-streaks in the fog of the plasteel glass. Sabel, it seemed, went through her motions as if Dao weren't there, and that suited the youngling just fine. She was content to stare at the traffic and hazy lights out the window.
Sabel brought up a holo call on the dash as she turned the speeder over to autopilot in the heavy aerial traffic. Her feet kicked up, and she leaned back in the seat. The call rang a few times, before Dao's ears pricked at the sound of a voice she hadn't heard in years.
Ontoroch crawled into the call, clearly from bed, "Sabel? Everything alright?"
Sabel peeled the wrapper off of a chew-stick and bit into the end. The interior of the speeder smelled strongly of medicine and herbs the moment she did, "I'm fine. The Council has spoken and it looks like I'm taking a detour to Ilum."
"Ilum? Going for the penance in the caves? I imagine it would do you good."
"No. A youngling is with me and I need to get her a lightsaber sooner rather than later."
Ontoroch sat up rapidly in the holo, then stood, "a youngling? Who?"
Dao saw the holo-camera clicking and expanding to take in a wider field of view.
"Onto," Dao smiled at the familiar face. She was surprised she remembered his name.
"Dao!"
Ontoroch's joy beamed through the holo like sun through clouds, "Dao! Wait… why?"
Sabel peeled bark from her chew-stick and wadded it up into her cheek, "it was determined we'd be a good influence on each other."
Dao reached for the chew-stick and Sabel offered it freely. Dao peeled a strip off and mimicked Sabel, stuffing a wad of medicinal, chewy wood into her cheek. The smell reminded her of a temple from Alpherides, one she hadn't even known she'd forgotten, "I don't know what I'm going to learn from Sabel, but I trust the Council. And I didn't know you two were friends."
Sabel wrapped the chew-stick back up, "we're not close."
Ontoroch smirked, "you'll get used to her attitude, Dao."
Dao found her lips and cheek growing numb from the chew-stick. She wasn't sure if she loved it or hated it, so she kept chewing, "I know how she is. She's just in pain."
Ontoroch tilted his head, "is she?"
Sabel said nothing.
Dao also said nothing, and sank back into her seat.
Ontoroch sighed, "right, back to business. Sabel, when are you back on Mek Sha? This place is driving me insane."
"A few days, at most. We're just in time to hit the orbital cycle on Ilum at the right time, when the sun is stronger."
"Why not just come straight here?"
"Because if this child–"
Dao wrinkled her nose, "I'm not a child."
" – if this child is going to be trained through trial-by-fire, she should at least be armed both physically and mentally."
Ontoroch brushed his teeth in the holo, "and you're not going to take advantage of the trip to Ilum, to go seek visions in the caves?"
"No."
"After all you've been through? Strange."
"I know what I'm going to see, Onto, and I'd rather not experience it again."
"You know what you're going to see? Is that how the Force works?"
"The caves reveal our demons, our deepest fears, our mental blocks. I know what it's going to show me, I know what my nightmares are every night, and I know my inner world. I see no reason to go into Ilum and amplify all of that."
Dao listened in silence, feeling Sabel's building fear and agitation through their bond.
Ontoroch leaned over the call and gave them both a dubious look, "hmph. There's something I'm not being told, is there?"
"Correct, Ontoroch," Sabel sat up again, throwing her wrapped chew-stick into the dash-hatch, and laying her finger over the 'end call' button, "as usual."
"Bye Sabel. Bye Dao."
Dao waved, "bye–"
Sabel terminated the call and took control of the speeder again as traffic cleared. She veered out of the traffic lane and boosted toward a large building in the distance, one Dao hadn't seen in a long time: the Senatorial starport. Dao felt it was best to remain silent, as Sabel's agitation was still prickling in the air like needles.
Sabel shifted into high gear, "one stop before we go offworld. You remember her."
"Senator Kayatonae?"
"The very same."
"You're friends with her?"
"Co-conspirators."
"What's that mean?"
"It means we do work together that's important and can't be talked about openly – I don't have to tell you, Dao, that everything you do with me from this point forward is to never be spoken of to anyone, yes? Not your friends, not Master Z, no one."
"Not even the Council?"
"You don't tell the Council a damned thing unless they ask directly. Shadow rules."
"What about Brijet? Or individual masters?"
"Same rule. Only tell when asked."
"Okay… so, I'm going to be a Shadow? Like you?"
"The bond has sealed our fate. What else could you be?"
Sabel turned up the throttle, the force of acceleration pinning Dao to the back of her seat and making her feel like her heart was lifting into her throat. The starport loomed higher and higher ahead of them and Sabel kept her eyes on the lane.
They dismounted at the Senatorial valet. Droids scanned Sabel's lightspeeder and moved to take control of it for parking, but Sabel spoke a command: "rain protocol."
The droids stopped, and instead of piloting the speeder elsewhere, two took up surveillance positions near it. Dao found it all fascinating, even if she didn't fully understand the what or why, she understood that Sabel's life was, for lack of a better word, 'cool.'
Together they took the direct elevator to the Senate offices.
On the 303rd floor, the Senate office hallways were long chambers with towering ceilings that let the light through, much like the Jedi Temple. Today the glass ceiling was streaked with rain and the rooms were gloomy with soft light. Battalions of attaches, assistants, valets, and diplomats moved about the open space, from all species and all corners of the Republic. Auto-translators and protocol droids filled the room with a steady wash of beeps, chirps, and intricate explanations of mistranslated phrases.
One droid in particular was having a devil of a time explaining to one alien that the word for 'your wife' in his colleague's language did indeed sound like the word for 'excrement' in his own native tongue, but that this was simply a coincidence and he should pay attention to the auto-translations in his ear, not the sounds coming out of his colleague's mouths.
The Jedi and her youngling wove through the bustle of the corridors with ease, as most present gave them the space they needed to press forward. At last they arrived at office number sixty-two, Senator Kayatonae, representing the interests of seven tier 2 worlds and three tier 3 worlds, including Alpherides.
Walking into the reception area, Tzentchen was there to greet them with her usual easy smile, "Master Sabel, and… Dao! Oh my goodness, is that really you?! You're so TALL!"
Dao smiled a little, beside herself, and Sabel found the smile infectious through their bond – she couldn't help but be warmed as the youngling did.
Dao bowed, and then felt awkward, "forgive me, but I must have been very young when we met. I cannot remember your name, but I recall your face and your kindness."
Tzentchen made a face and a long 'ohhhhhhhh' of adoration, "she's so sweet and polite, stars abaft, what a perfect little Jedi she is! I'm Tzentchen! And don't worry, I don't think we ever really spoke – you were in the Senator's office years and years ago, with your mother."
Dao glanced at Sabel, and Sabel glanced at Dao. No comment.
Tzentchen went on, "and really, it's flattering you remember me at all, I certainly couldn't forget you in a thousand years, you were the most peculiar kid – in a good way, I mean. That sounds odd doesn't it?"
Sabel noted the empty, large-style cup of triple-caf in the office wastebasket and Dao found herself picking up on Sabel's natural, always-on alertness and analysis. Tzentchen's caf-fueled gabbing continued, "anyways, you're here to see the Senator, so let just squeeze you into the schedule, I'm sure the ambassador from Kalikoloth won't mind waiting a few minutes more as long as you're quick-quick-quick, but you always are, Master Sabel."
Sabel bowed in the way that was more of a nod than anything else, "yes."
Tzentchen tap-tapped on her holoscreen and spoke as she worked, "so, Master Sabel, is Dao under your care now? That's amazing!"
Sabel did not speak but Dao got the feeling she was expected to answer, so she did, "yes, she will be my teacher now. We are going to Ilum after this, apparently."
"Ohhh, you're going to get to ride in Sabel's ship, are you?"
Dao tilted her head, "well, yes, we couldn't walk to another planet after all."
Tzentchen giggled and moved the schedule around, "no, not yet, but you Jedi are all about those miracles, who knows, maybe someday."
Sabel did not roll her eyes but Dao felt that she was rolling her eyes on the inside. Dao kept the pleasantries going, "is Sabel's ship a good one?"
Tzentchen gave Dao a look over the top of her holoscreen, "only the best. I can't say much more, I'm not a wingnut like the Senator – but she had it hand-picked and engineered for Master Sabel and I've seen it a few times in the docks," she clicked the last piece into place on the screen, "it's very… beautiful."
Dao tried to imagine what a 'beautiful' ship might be and came up short, so she just bowed again, "I look forward to seeing it."
Tzentchen stood up, "you're all set. She'll be wrapping up any second now–"
The door to the Senator's office burst open and a group of three Nautolans in finery stalked out, looking rather dissatisfied with their visit. Dao noted the rippling, angry reds in their auras, and gave them a wide berth. They exited out into the corridor and Tzentchen gave Dao and Sabel an apologetic look, "the Senator will see you now."
They bowed and walked into the Senator's office. The doors shut behind.
The office itself was spartan, with a clean and modestly-sized desk surrounded by slate walls that hung an old pilot's uniform in glass casing, a few medals, multiple degrees, and plenty of photos of a younger Kayatonae in front of fighters with military friends. In the photos, she was always bright and smiling.
Presently, the Senator sat at her desk with her face half-buried by her hand. She leaned on her elbow, with an untouched cup of triple-caf nearby, "Master Sabel… Dao?"
The Senator blinked and sat up straight, "so it's finally happening?"
Dao looked at Sabel for answers. Sabel gave them, almost, "yes. The Council found out."
The Senator rose up to stand and paced behind her desk, doing shoulder-exercises, "okay, okay… we can work with this."
Dao saw the bleak, dim light of the Senator's aura, a struggling gold with flecks of purple pain and orange frustration. She could tell the Senator didn't have much will left. Something was grinding her down, "Senator Kayatonae. You remember me?"
"Of course I do, kid, you're Sabel's field baby come back to haunt us – wish I'd put the pieces together years ago, but now we're all figuring this mess out together."
Dao frowned, "what mess?"
No one answered Dao. Sabel laced her fingers over her belly and focused on her breathing, "Senator, I'm going to train her. It will take time, but I believe most of it can be done while on the primary mission on Mek-Sha."
"You're gonna take this kid to Mek-Sha? Did the doc unscrew a few neurons while you were at the Temple, Sabel?"
"She'll be fine."
"She'll get eaten alive."
"She's Rat Clan."
"I don't know what the kriff that means."
"She grew up under Master Z, like I did; in the Underworld, not the Temple. She's used to difficult, urban environments and isn't like most Jedi younglings."
Senator Kayatonae rubbed at her face and stared at the photos on the wall, "I'm so, so tired, Sabel."
Sabel listened and did not speak. Dao felt it was wise to mirror this.
Kayatonae paced along the wall, gazing at the past, "so kriffing tired. They turned my old squadron into a stripped-down cargo fleet. They're hauling medicine and textiles to rim worlds for aid missions, half-strapped and just asking for trouble."
Sabel nodded, "and trouble found them?"
"Not yet, but it will – just a matter of time. The Nihil are sniffing around more and more lanes, and as time goes on, even with all your data, even with my friends in the corps of engineers poring over what little salvage we can get our hands on, I'm left with more questions than answers, and more concerns than solutions."
"I take it the Senate remains useless."
"Worse than useless – obstructionist. Senator Rubicant and her posse of pacifists are determined to inflict humiliation and passive violence on the veterans of the interior conflicts by stripping them of their honors and 'transitioning' them to humanitarian roles in these new reimagined military contingents; it's a disaster, Sabel, and it's happening in slow-motion and every time I stand up for our armed forces in the Senate I get dogpiled and I lose one more shred of what little clout I have left."
"But, the Nihil haven't exploited these weaknesses."
"Not YET, Sabel, because they're like you – why do you think you were able to roll with them for so long and so well?"
Sabel wrinkled her nose, and Dao felt a crisp surge of rage whip through her, and then pass. Dao took a steadying breath. Sabel answered, calm as she could, "I am nothing like them."
"Not at your core, no – that sounded wrong, sorry. I meant their methodology is the same, Sabel, they're premeditated, they're cunning, they respect the power of proper intel, they move in organized fleets, and when they strike it's with overwhelming force."
"That's correct, yes, they don't fight for glory, they fight to win."
"Exactly right. So why would they tip their hand so early?"
"They wouldn't. They're observing the Republic de-fang itself and biding their time, maybe keeping some of the lesser fleets entertained with rim world raids that can be blamed on rank-and-file piracy."
Senator Kayatonae pointed emphatically at Sabel, "yes! They're out there, watching, from kriffing hyperspace, of all places, they're… they're so beyond us, it's absurd. We would be swept straight to the core worlds if they wanted to."
Dao saw the Senator's aura flickering – anxiety. Nauseating to observe, and she spoke up, "Senator Kayatonae, please forgive me…"
The Senator leaned on the wall and stared at an old picture, "what, Dao?"
"You seem really tired. You should rest."
The Senator curled her fingers into a gentle fist and bapped the photo, then picked it up off the wall and walked toward Sabel and Dao, "rest…"
The Senator tossed the photo on the desk. The glass cracked, but she didn't seem to care. Dao noted, along with Sabel, that the photo was of the Senator much younger, making silly faces from the cockpit of a fighter, and the contrast of this carefree young warrior against the dreary-eyed woman in the stiff Senatorial suit with the streaks of grey in her hair…
It was depressing, to Dao. It almost made her want to cry, "Senator Kayatonae, please, you should rest, it's important."
"Dao, you're a sweet kid, but you don't understand what we're up against."
"I do understand, I was there too, I remember the fear and I remember things through Master Sabel."
Kayatonae squinted at Sabel, "what is she talking about?"
Sabel waved her hand and rearranged the Senator's attention, "nothing."
The Senator nodded, "nothing, right. Dao, I'll rest when I can get ONE person in the Senate on my side for this, but being the whipping girl for the majority the past two years has driven me to the brink, I don't know how much–"
"So stop it," Sabel interrupted.
"Excuse me?"
"Stop it. Stop fighting a pointless fight just to satisfy your sense of purpose."
Senator Kayatonae balked at Sabel, even taking a step forward, her warrior instincts putting little space between them. Dao fidgeted from the intensity, "um…"
Dao was ignored. Sabel stood her ground, "stop shredding yourself against the the senatorial majority just so you can feel like you're doing something."
"I'm doing what I have to do for the Republic!"
"You're doing what you have to do because it's your identity and your ego driving you to do it, because you feel like you're useless if you aren't fighting a foe."
Kayatonae's lip twitched.
Sabel twisted the proverbial knife, "I have enough problems to deal with right now and I don't need a half-cocked, hoo-ah Senator smashing her head against a stone wall to the point that when I actually do need her services she's frayed herself into uselessness."
Kayatonae remained stiff-backed and defiant, until that last point. It sunk in, slowly at first, but then the eyes glanced away and she turned back to her desk, "I don't take orders from you, Sabel, but I do take your point."
"No, you don't take orders from me. I am a Jedi, not a soldier – I promote peace."
"I've seen you slice someone open from gut to chin."
"The incident you speak of involved a man who was lost to cybernetic psychosis. He was immune to mind tricks and prepared to massacre a concert – I'd argue my actions created more peace than not."
"No argument there – TZENTCHEN!"
The door to the office peeked open, "mam?"
"Clear my schedule after this week, we're going to Nar Shadda – no. Alderaan."
Tzentchen smiled, "understood, mam."
Sabel and Dao watched the Senator in silence. The Senator picked up the cracked old photo, stared at it a moment, then dropped it in the trash. She looked up at the two.
"Leave, please."
Sabel bowed, Dao mirrored her. Tzentchen bade them farewell and mouthed a silent 'thank you' at the Jedi.
They were back at the valet in minutes. Once inside the lightspeeder, Dao looked at Sabel. They pulled out into traffic and swung deeper into the Senatorial starport.
"Master Sabel."
"Yes?"
"How do you know when to be hard and when to be soft?"
Sabel tongued at one of her canines behind pursed lips, keeping her eyes on the lane. It seemed to Dao she really gave the question some thought. Finally, "I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I don't know. The Force guides me, or, as the Senator would put it…"
Sabel shifted into a higher gear and they swung into a tunnel curving higher and higher toward the starport. Dao felt her stomach heave from the force of their acceleration.
Sabel smiled a little, "go with your gut."
Chapter 6 - Ilum
Sabel's ship was stunning. From the hangar, Dao had been struck by its pristine white surface and gentle curves. It was wide and dish-like, but shallow, with a low-profile that made it difficult to hit when diving head-on or strafing in evasion. Even on the interior this aesthetic continued, with luxurious leather seats and white, plasteel curves for consoles.
All interfaces were holographic and a gentle teal, to promote alertness. The floors were heated and the shower, while small, had a deep tub built into it that Dao enjoyed curling up into and near-boiling herself with recycled hot water. Its food synthesizers were first-rate and minimized the cardboard aftertaste of most meals. The bunks, while compact, had privacy screens and entertainment suites built into them.
Dao was presently enjoying watching a nature documentary on the wildlife of Hoth while curled up under a heated blanket with her bunk's privacy screen drawn. A cup of hot synthcaf was in her hands, and as far as younglings facing the tension of a Gathering ritual went, she could be considered one of the coziest ever recorded.
How someone as austere as Sabel ever tolerated such an extravagant ship was curious to Dao. But, it had just been that morning on the second leg of their journey to the unknown regions that Dao noted Sabel preferred her synthcaf with chocolate flavor, no-cal sweeteners, and marshmallows (which were packed full of sugar).
When asked about the strange paradox of no-cal sweeteners paired with marshmallows, Sabel simply replied, "because both would be too much."
Out of curiosity (and boredom on the days-long journey), Dao decided to test this for herself. And sure enough, she did find that marshmallows in synthcaf with full-cal sweeteners was a bit overly sweet for her taste.
"And it is here we see the majestic Tauntaun in its mating dance," said the posh old documentary narrator, "putting on a full display for the female. But, as a bachelor, his horn folds are found wanting, and tragically, she has chosen another."
Dao sighed and sunk into her blankets. She closed her eyes a moment, felt the warmth of her cocoa through the mug in her hands, wiggled her toes under the silks, and felt the steady hum of the ship's drive through the walls around her. It was all she could do to distract herself from remembering that they were in hyperspace.
The comms beeped on and Dao shot up, bumping her head against the sleeping pod's ceiling and spilling caf on herself.
"Dao, come to the bridge," said Sabel on comms.
Dao frantically dabbed herself with her robes and slid out of the bunk to get dressed, but not before downing the cup of warm caf and eating a handful of marshmallows.
Ilum.
From orbit, a white sphere tinged blue, as if an eye floating alone in space. It was fitting, then, that this was where all Jedi to gaze into the Force itself, and to have the Force gaze back into them. It was here that Jedi were made or unmade, as the Force willed.
To Dao, the planet was a scintillating sphere – a disco ball of serenity, a fractal mass so overwhelmingly powerful in its aura that gazing into it made her feel like her body was deflating and rolling up into itself to be stored in some sumptuous cosmic vault and she was absolutely okay with this.
Sabel looked at Dao, raising an eyebrow, "interesting."
"What?"
"You have a deathwish."
Dao ran her fingers over her shaved head's brown bristles and frowned, "um… what?"
"We're bonded, child, remember?"
"That doesn't explain 'deathwish.'"
Sabel interacted with the autopilot, instructing it to bring them in and find a suitable landing spot at a specific set of coordinates, "it's hard to describe what I feel from you sometimes. Deathwish was the first word that sprang to mind."
"Still vague."
Sabel snapped a lever into place, locking autopilot and standing to loom over Dao, but only just so – in a few years, Sabel noted, this girl would be at her height, and a gangly, whip-like warrior with reach, not unlike her mother.
"I don't think you actually want to exist," said Sabel, "and I think that you're just going along with whatever is around you out of… an instinct for flow."
"That is the Jedi way."
"Yes, it is. But it's unheard of for a youngling to embody it so fully."
Dao shrugged and continued to gaze into Ilum's disco abyss.
Sabel crossed her arms, "Dao, look at me."
Dao made a non-committal, "mngh" sound and did not look at Sabel.
Sabel pressed a button on the holo-HUD and the ship's canopy shutters slowly unfurled. Dao wrinkled her nose and looked at Sabel, mirroring her and crossing her own arms.
Sabel raised her cybernetic hand in front of Dao's face, "what do you see?"
"Long strings of light, coiled around a dead cylinder frame."
Sabel stared at her. It was not the response she had expected, "you can see electromagnetic energy with that degree of fidelity?"
"Yes."
"Does anyone else know this?"
"Master Z and Rat Clan. They'd use me to find bootleg power junctions along Ganger Row near the Gutterfalls, Dao grinned, "for Sabotage Saturdays – best day of the week."
Sabel lowered her hand and began to actually process, in this moment, what kind of child she was dealing with. She didn't have a name for it, but she had a weird feeling about it.
"Deathwish," Sabel nodded, folding her hands behind her back and walking toward the back of the ship, "my student is a child with a deathwish, who was born to me against my will, and is now bonded to me through a vergence of the Force for purposes known only to the Force."
"Where are you going?"
Sabel did not look back, "to prepare for the trials ahead, whatever those may be. You should do the same, Dao."
"Okay."
Dao sat down on the spot and closed her eyes. With three circular breaths, she was in deep meditation, and Sabel could feel the peace of it through their bond. She'd liked being on this ship with the girl for that very reason. In the years of flying in this opulent, custom-made recon vessel given to her by the Senator's slush fund, Sabel had only ever slept in a hard corner of the bridge and eaten optimally-nutritious bricks.
With Dao here, she actually appreciated the small, sensual comforts available.
With Dao here, she appreciated and felt grateful for her cybernetics keeping her from being the galaxy's saddest Jedi amputee.
With Dao here, she remembered what it felt like to sleep without nightmares.
Sabel did glance over her shoulder, at the girl's serene posture, and smiled despite herself. She then walked into her bunk and made a holocall to the Jedi Temple.
Dao was certain the winds of Ilum had removed her nose. Only minutes of walking from that pristine ship, and already the hot cocoa felt like it was years in the past. In the dark flurries of frost along that empty, white plane, Sabel was a long shadow ahead, making thin footfalls that Dao planted her feet in gratefully – she would not have been happy to break trail here.
Dao pulled her mask on to protect her face from the building wind. Her breath did a good job of restoring some sensation to her nose, but it was a long walk yet. She looked over her shoulder, only to see the landing lights of the ship had been totally lost to distance and snow-flurries. They were now in a limbo space, without origin, without visible destination.
It was like hyperspace. It made Dao's heart seize with fear. She ran to catch up to Sabel and found herself clutching the woman's arm out of instinct alone.
Sabel felt the girl's hand and looked back at her, "interesting."
"Please don't let go."
"I won't. It's easy to get lost in these conditions, even walking a short distance."
They trudged forward. Dao squeezed Sabel's hand, "do you know the way?"
"Don't ask stupid questions."
"Is it far?"
"No."
It wasn't. They walked in silence a few minutes more and then there it was: the towering pillars of ice that rose overhead in a sudden clearing of the weather. Dao looked down to see spiral runes underneath her feet. Ahead and above, the spires of a Jedi temple lay dormant beneath a haze of solid, milky frost.
"Focus with me," said Sabel, letting go of Dao's hand and then raising her own, biological hand to face the palm forward, "we aren't getting in without the Force."
Dao frowned. Did this woman expect her to move a mountain of ice? She could barely lift a bucket of water without spilling it.
"I don't expect you to move mountains, Dao, I expect you to focus with me."
Dao nodded, closed her eyes, and raised her hand toward the spires of the mountain. In time, the sun rose, the winds abated, and the spires groaned, sliding down via the gentle nudging of the Force, to reveal the grand archway of the temple's entrance. Dao opened her eyes, clasped fist into palm, and bowed before it.
Sabel smirked at her, "honoring the past?"
"I don't know."
They walked together up the slick staircase, toward the archway which only seemed to grow larger and larger as they passed through it. Dao noted Sabel could have flown her ship straight into the temple if she'd wanted to.
All around them, the comforting howl of wind grew ever more distant, while the deep, thrumming song of the underground grew more imposing. Dao was used to a kind of white noise throughout her life, like the winds of her childhood or the cries and clangs of the Underworld; but this was something entirely different.
This was the sound of vastness. This was the sound of being swallowed and forgotten. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.
It was terrifying.
They entered the main antechamber, where a great crystal hung at the center of the tall ceiling. Dao startled at the sound of Sabel's voice.
"You are afraid."
"No."
"I sense it."
"Not afraid. Terrified."
Sabel folded her arms behind her back and paced beneath the great crystal above. It was always difficult to find the words to share with Dao. She was a girl who, by her nature, seemed to slip and slide around rhetoric with ease. Insights came to her as readily as swordplay came to others, and it was becoming clearer and clearer to Sabel that this child had been assigned to her for the express purpose of rehabilitating the scarred master.
Dao mirrored Sabel, pacing, arms folded behind the back, gazing up at the ceiling.
They walked in lazy, slow circles. They were lulled by the planet's haunted song.
"Dao."
"Master Sabel?"
"What do you think of life?"
"Of life?"
"Of being alive. Of existence."
Dao carefully placed each footfall within Sabel's footsteps on the frosted floor, "I think it's very weird, if I'm being honest with you."
"It is weird, isn't it."
"Yes. Weird, absurd… unnecessary, actually. Why have existence at all?"
"I often wonder that myself."
"Were you hoping I'd have an answer for you?"
"Yes."
They stopped, turned, and faced the wall of ice blocking another great archway. Sabel lifted her shoto lightsaber from its hidden place inside her cybernetic arm. She twirled it over her fingers and lost herself to the absence of thought.
Dao broke the silence, "this is your second time?"
"I won't be going in."
"But… I thought that was the point of this."
Sabel said nothing. Dao turned and looked at her, squinting, "you're afraid."
"Of course I am."
"Why?"
Sabel walked to a pedestal in the center of the antechamber and placed her lightsaber there, "because I know what waits for me in there."
"How can you be so certain? The Force is mysterious."
Sabel clenched her jaw, "I know what waits for me in there, Dao – this is the way of Ilum, of the Gathering, and the vergence here. We walk through winding and shifting caves of ice and mirrors, we endure the cold, we face our demons, we face our shortcomings. I know what my demons are and I do not need to be reminded of them when I am reminded of them nearly every night in nightmares, in endless chases through dark halls, in ship guts and bloody arenas, I don't NEED to experience it again and again and AGAIN and this time, no doubt with a level of detail and horror my own dreams could only hope to conjure! No, Dao!"
Dao blanched, felt herself stuck in place as Sabel visibly became unraveled and stalked toward her with a dangerous, instinctive swagger, like a predatory cat with both a taste for and fear of its hunters, "I will NOT be going in there. And no one can make me, not you, not Master Fen, not Master Yoda, not Master Z, not the whole High Council can convince me that entering those halls would benefit me in any way."
Dao didn't know what to say. There were no insights coming to her. All she could do was back away, toward the frozen archway, and place her hand upon it, "okay. How do I enter?"
Sabel reached toward the ceiling. A shutter opened, allowing rare Ilum sunlight to beam through and scatter upon the great crystal above them. Sabel turned the crystal through the Force, aligning it just so. A beam of light shone upon the frozen archway, which melted into water that rushed past Dao's ankles. Ahead of her was a long cavern of ice that ended in darkness.
Sabel pointed to the top of the archway, "today you build your lightsaber, when you find your crystal within. Don't take too long, as the wall will freeze over eventually."
Dao watched as Sabel went to sit down on the pedestal in the center of the antechamber by her lightsaber. The scarred master sat in silence and stared at Dao.
"Okay."
Dao turned, faced the tunnel, and walked toward the darkness.
The icy hallway went on forever. Dao had been walking for what seemed like hours. The antechamber was so far behind her that she couldn't see it anymore, and ahead was just more darkness. Dao's feet moved in a shuffling, business-like manner – of their own accord, by duty and expectation, because this is what she was supposed to do.
She was supposed to be a Jedi. She was supposed to find a crystal. She would find the crystal and forge it into a lightsaber. She would use the lightsaber to defend the innocent and be a physical embodiment of the Force. She would grow old and become a Master. She would guide others on the path to enlightenment. She would live a long time and see many things, then she would pass into the Force and be at peace.
What, exactly (she wondered and wondered) was the point.
What was the point?
"What's the point?"
Dao stepped into an open chamber of ice. There were many doorways, each seeming to lead to an identical, long hallway of more ice and more darkness. Dao emptied her head and closed her eyes, spun around arbitrarily, and picked a path. With the path picked, she walked through the doorway.
"I liked this planet better from orbit."
Her voice echoed 'orbit, orbit, orbit' through the hallway.
Dao picked up a bit of a run, then jumped, and slid down the hallway on her feet. She saw herself reflected in the warped mirrors of ice around her.
"I guess this is okay."
'Okay, okay, okay...'
The hallway dipped down into a slick, icy tube. Dao screamed as she slipped down the tube on her feet, only to laugh as she realized she could twist her body and slide around the tight tunnel as she fell down into the icy depths of the planet. She whirled and whirled around in circles, diving deeper and deeper without a care.
Maybe she'd get lost.
That would be ideal. She remembered in the documentaries she watched that freezing to death wasn't the worst way to go. First, you'd get very cold, then very warm, and go mad, then numb, and then fall asleep forever.
A fine way to return to the Force.
Sabel watched the archway for hours. The ice crept down, further and further, until once again there was a solid wall of it preventing Dao from escaping the tunnels. But Dao never came. Sabel reached through their bond, tried to sense the girl, and found her, but it was a fractured sensation, like Dao had been split into a billion pieces and thrown to the winds.
Sabel grabbed her lightsaber and rose. She walked toward the frozen archway. In it, she saw herself reflected; a pale shadow of a woman, gleaming yellow eyes, and a look of dread numbness upon her face. There was nothing there. There was nothing but a shell, one-armed husk with a mutilated face and artificial eyes.
She had been granted her wish, to be a monster that hunted monsters. Yes. That was it.
That was her truth, wasn't it? The Shadow. The healing blade.
Sabel lit her saber and drove it into the face of her reflection. She dragged it down, gutting her reflection, cutting it apart, slashing through the ice and then kicking it inward. Sabel pushed through the shattered entrance and stalked down the dark hallway, saber lit, eyes alert, head on swivel. Already the shadows were creeping, the crystals singing, and the dark trail ahead of her shifting with promises of terror.
"Come on, then," she snarled, "do it. Make me lose my mind, make me face down all of it, make me see myself anew through the Force, yes?"
Sabel slashed at her reflection in the wall near her, "what is the lesson?!"
She slashed at an icy outcrop for no reason at all, "shall the Force heal me?!"
A voice, permeating the walls, echoing through the halls: "warrior."
Warrior, warrior, warrior. There was no tone. No judgment. Only a statement.
Sabel broke into a dead sprint, her shoto saber held in the icepick grip, safely to the side and slightly behind. What she was chasing, she wasn't sure, but she knew that the voice was in her mind; a hallucination, and nothing more.
"Hunter."
Hunter, hunter, hunter. Sabel knew hallucinations. This was it. She wasn't afraid.
"Killer."
Killer, killer, killer.
"Yes, I am," she dove into a chamber with many doors. Sabel closed her eyes, stretching out through the Force by spiritual muscle memory, and then found Dao's footsteps. She darted after them within a mere second, hot on the trail.
"Sacred."
Sacred, sacred, sacred. Sabel faltered, slowing her sprint. She saw herself in the ice again, but her eyes were not yellow. Her eyes were not there at all. She did not have eyes.
"Scarred."
Scarred, scarred, scarred. Sabel had only one arm. Sabel had no eyes. Sabel had black pits where eyes should have been, exposed muscle where skin around the eyes should have been, wounds beneath her robes, words best unspoken cut into her skin.
Sabel had no pity for this reflection. "A vessel for the Force," she said aloud, "a vessel for the will of the Force and nothing more. No one, no thing, nothing, nothing at all."
She gazed upon her own miserable reflection with a sense of… contempt.
"Stuck together by wires and spite. Good. You bitch. You weakling. You…"
She bared her teeth at herself, drove her lightsaber into the reflection again and again and again and again, screamed and kicked at it, shattered the ice until it could reveal nothing in its rubble, "a vessel, a vessel, a vessel to kill them all because they cannot live."
"Compassion."
Compassion, compassion, compassion.
"For them?!"
Sabel whirled around, saw him in the ice. She saw him, his horrible flaxen hair and groomed face, his plastic smile, his empty eyes, his whip, his slaves, oh. Oh.
Sabel stalked up to the reflection of him, her cybernetic arm twitching with a kind of murderous thirst, "I'm going to remove you."
The Admiral grinned, "replace me."
Sabel slowly sliced her lightsaber along the reflection's throat, "remove. Remove and then I will die, I will kill myself, my life's work will be DONE."
"I'm so flattered that my seeds are planted this deep within you, Jedi."
Sabel felt a wash of nausea. She bent over and retched, but nothing came of it. She hadn't eaten for at least a day. Her knees shook and she heard Dao's laughter echoing through the hallways below. Had her laughter always sounded that vile?"
My seeds are planted deep.
She retched again, clutched at her heart, felt it tearing, aching. Dao. Dao was his, of course she was, she had just not ever wanted to face it, but she knew Dao was the Admiral's child, and she knew she should have killed her at birth when she saw those big, wet, glassy eyes staring up at her in the candlelight of the birthing chamber on Alpherides.
Those empty eyes.
Those snake eyes.
But what kind of Jedi kills a child?
But she isn't a child anymore.
A snake, ready to grow into a dragon.
Sabel kept her lightsaber lit and fell into a low crouch. She prowled down into the tunnel and slid silently along the ice, deeper into Ilum, toward the sound of Dao.
Through the winding tunnels, the huntress followed the sound of that hideous laughter. Around bends, across chasms, through channels separated by deadly cold water, she sprang, leapt, vaulted, and sometimes, smashed her way through thin walls. Nothing would keep her from fulfilling her life's purpose. She would kill him. She would erase him, not for ego, not for self, not for passion, but for necessity, for the cosmic necessity of it.
It was not vengeance, it was justice. It was no more emotional than cutting a tumor from the body of an ailing universe. And she could begin with his spawn.
Sabel slid to a halt as a corner turned and revealed an enormous, empty chamber with no floor and no ceiling. She stood on the ledge of a frosted cliff that dropped off into an endless, black abyss below. And above, it was much the same, with fog obscuring any end to the chamber. In all directions, save the tunnel behind her, Sabel saw a void.
Dao was there, skating along the emptiness, dancing, twirling, and laughing. Skating… along the nothingness. How was that possible?
Sabel crouched down and reached out over the cliff to press her hand onto what had to be a translucent glacier of ice. And yet her hand fell through, and she scrambled back with fear. This was a true cliff, a drop-off into a black chasm below. Yet somehow, Dao was there, far ahead of her, skating around in thin air.
Dao skidded to a stop and waved to Sabel, "come over here!"
Sabel stood up. She beckoned, "no, you come here, Dao. You've had long enough."
Dao stood her ground, out in the middle of nothingness, "come on, Master Sabel! We're already here, aren't we? Come out and see for yourself!"
Sabel strained her eyes looking around for some secret or trick, something she was missing, some explanation for this anomaly. She looked at her own lit lightsaber, its invisible blade and silent heat. Ghostfire crystal.
"Ghostfire crystal…" Sabel closed her eyes, reached out through the force. Her atrophied Miralukan sight was dim, but there. She saw the truth: great spires of translucent ice, laced with ghostfire, jutting up from the abyss below. To Dao they must have been as bright and clear as Coruscant skyscrapers.
Sabel leapt from platform to platform, each one rather large around and forgiving. She at last landed on the giant central platform, and all around them was endless black. It was like standing in space.
"Dao," Sabel said, not yet making a move, "why are you still here?"
"I didn't want to go back."
"Why?"
"Because it's pointless."
Sabel grimaced, "being a Jedi is pointless?"
"Being a Jedi seems better than most things, but, yes. Like everything else… pointless."
"I don't want to stand out here and trade riddles with you, Dao."
Dao shrugged and walked toward Sabel, "then let's just go back."
Sabel lifted her lit saber and Dao stopped. Dao took a step back, "why do you…"
"You're a bad seed, Dao."
"Master Sabel?"
"Your father was vile."
"My father was kind, just like my mother."
"Your real father and your real mother – a cruel man, a vicious woman."
"I'm not like that."
"Not yet."
Dao crossed her arms and felt her mouth welling up with tears. She spat on the ground, the ice forming visibly across an invisible platform, "you know, if being a Jedi means becoming a paranoid, joyless wreck, then maybe you're right, maybe being a Jedi is just as pointless as everything else, maybe – I mean, what's the point, of anything, if all you ever do is get hooked and hung up and dirtied by the galaxy! I thought Jedi moved without all that happening but you're no Jedi at all from where I'm standing!"
"I do what must be done to protect the galaxy, in my own way, according to my own talents, with the blessing of the Council," Sabel pointed her saber at Dao, "at least I feel shame and guilt for what I am, at least I see what a wretch I've become, but you, you've never felt compassion or love in your life, have you?"
Dao saw as Sabel's aura boiled and coiled in on itself, reds bubbling with black and confused pinks, a cloud of anger, of pain, of confusion. Dao held up her hands as if in surrender, "I don't know what compassion is."
"How do you not know what compassion is?!"
"Is it sweet and aching? Then no. Is it kindness and good faith? Then yes."
"You are barely a young woman and yet you've been as cold as the ice beneath us since the day of your birth, I remember it very well, Dao."
"Maybe so. But why does everything have to be hot to be valid?"
Sabel's grip faltered, "what?"
"I don't know anything. I just know it seems like… you avoid emotions so much that your life becomes all about emotions. But maybe if you let yourself feel the emotions, they wouldn't be so bad, and you could move on."
"I'm not full of emotions," said Sabel, severing the mental cord between head and heart, and retreating to the bleak fortress of a calculating mind, "I'm nothing. I'm a vessel. I'm the quiet blade that cuts disease from the galaxy."
"Maybe so. But when you sleep at night, something or someone inside you is crying."
Sabel brought the saber to Dao's neck and Dao felt the heat of it. Even in this moment, she felt the heat was a nice break from the cold air, "you know I'm not afraid to die."
Sabel's arm shook, "why?!"
"Because it'll be just like before I was born. Remember that?"
Sabel dropped her arm, dropped to her knees. The planet gulped and sang around them. The chasm yawned beneath. Sabel's mind reconnected to her heart, but she'd forgotten how to feel it, "why can't I be more like you?"
"Because you remember a lot of horrible things, I guess, and I don't."
"I wish I could forget."
"Master Fen would say you should just let it all go."
"Why can't we just die down here?"
"Um…"
Sabel looked up at Dao. Dao took Sabel's hand and smiled, "well, we could."
"Really?"
"If you're that tired. I don't really care either way."
"But… then he wins."
"Oh, the bad man? The one you say is my father."
"Yes. Then he wins."
"Well, maybe that's true, maybe it isn't."
Sabel deactivated her saber, stuck it back in its compartment in her arm. She squeezed Dao's hand and stared down into the void below them. She imagined sliding off the ledge, falling into it, freezing to death in some frigid lake to the sound of crystal song. Dao imagined it, too, through their bond, and it seemed like an okay idea. Not the best idea, but… fine.
"You know, I had a vision while I was down here," Dao gave Sabel a hug.
"Was it awful?"
"Yes."
"Show me."
Dao focused on their bond. Sabel saw Ilum from orbit, but this time it had a trench ripped through its midsection. The crystals were silent. Ugly, gray ships tore out chunks of the sacred world and ferried them elsewhere. It was a glimpse of some bleak future, for sure, and it only made Sabel's tired heart feel all the more hopeless.
Dao, too, spat up another mouthful of tears.
"So," Sabel murmured, "what's the point of anything, then… if it all is ruined in the end."
"I was hoping you could tell me, Master Sabel."
They stared down into the tempting abyss. Sabel dug deep. She wanted an answer for this child. Not her child, not his child – this child. Dao, an entity uncertain of existence, barely dipped into it, barely invested, just going through the motions since birth. How does a Jedi persuade the unattached how to attach?
"We don't do it for ourselves, Dao, we do it for the galaxy."
"The galaxy will inevitably end. Everything ends."
"Endings imply beginnings. It will begin again."
"Even still… even if it goes on for eternity, why should we suffer and strive."
"Because in doing so, we…"
She remembered Mek Sha and Ontoroch, and remembered her own words: "harm reduction."
Dao raised an eyebrow, "what?"
Sabel stood up, lifting Dao with her, "harm reduction, Dao."
"Meaning?"
"So, the universe ends, so what? It all circles the drain, so what? Someone has to make sure the journey to the bottom isn't hell, or worse…"
Sabel saw the slaves. Dao saw them too. Sabel remembered the Admiral's punishments, which used wires and cybernetics, whips and knives, which made a year feel like ten, twenty, one-hundred. The Admiral was pleased when a mind, a soul was shattered so thoroughly by his 'sweet punishments' designed to stretch out time into an eternity.
Dao spat, coughed, "that's… possible?"
"Possible? It happens, when a mind is sick enough, Dao. Some rare people, like the Admiral, they're so self-indulgently cruel that the mere idea of turning someone's existence into endless pain gives them pleasure. Sadism, Dao. If we have no other purpose in this universe, it is to erase the malignant sadism that threatens to turn our gentle glide toward the drain into an endless… hell. A hell, Dao, it could be a hell."
Dao felt the weight of this realization hit her in the center of her chest. The crystals sang, but this time, it sounded like they sang their own death dirge, accepting of them inevitable fate to be twisted and destroyed by far-future cruelty. Dao clenched her fist, "if these people exist, if they cause hell worlds even for a small number of people… that's…"
"They have to be removed."
"I see you now, Master Sabel," and she did. Sabel's red had inverted and scattered, becoming blotches of bloody aura around a corona of gold, "I see you."
"Then find your crystal and come with me."
"But, hold on. Let me tell you something, before you arm me with a weapon, and I guess… try to make me into a clone of yourself."
"That really isn't my intention."
Dao smiled a bit sadly at her mother, "it's not, but I see it all in your aura – your intentions are irrelevant. The Force, good or bad, is what guides you."
"Just tell me what you want me to hear."
They stood up together. Dao touched her hand over Sabel's heart, "you call it 'harm reduction.' You see everything as numbers, units, grains of sand… mutilated parts, you know? This cut into that cut into this and that, but… that's not life. Life is like water. One drop, falling on a still surface, makes ripples that expand so far beyond."
Sabel picked up, slowly, an old memory. She remembered herself, young and untested, making her first kill: someone who was in the habit of beating their spouse, loudly and often, in the tenement where Sabel and Master Z bunked on Mek Sha. Sabel had not intended to kill him, but when she broke into that apartment and saw the cruel smile on his face, she knew he was more than a troubled soul. He was a rare one: a malignant mind. A disease.
Dao saw it all, too, through their bond. Sabel focused on the kill, over and over, but Dao focused on the relief on the spouse's face. Dao saw the brightening eyes, the surprise, the sense of realization that there was some justice in the world.
"You know," said Dao, patting Sabel's chest, just below her throat, "maybe try to remember the people you helped. Try to imagine the good you did for them… and how much good maybe they've done since you helped."
Sabel stared at Dao. She'd forgotten all about that woman she saved. And now she wondered what she was doing with her life.
"Small drops, big ripples. I understand, Dao."
"Keep doing what you do best. But focus on the positive results, not the… violence."
Sabel whispered, almost involuntarily, the vergence of Ilum teasing out a buried, dark secret from her heart, "I like the violence."
Dao felt that coldness in Sabel, the sickness, the joy at the pain of those that deserve it. It felt dangerous. Dao stepped back from Sabel, "I can see that. Maybe you should stop liking it."
Sabel gazed down at her feet, and the nothingness beneath them, "yes. Focus elsewhere."
"Can we go now? I'm cold."
"Get your crystal."
Dao reached down, placing her hand on the translucent platform beneath them. Through the Force, she willed her crystal's mournful song up through the ice. A crack formed along the platform beneath them, and it webbed into more. As the crystal hit Dao's palm, Sabel felt the ice giving way underneath them.
They leapt across to another, which cracked in turn, and with each icy pillar shattering beneath them, they raced to find the ledge and tunnel that lead back to the entrance. Dao's step faltered and she screamed as she felt the ice falling beneath her. She didn't want to die anymore!
Sabel lit her saber and rammed it into the cliffside, so deep that the hilt caught on the indentation of ice. It was enough. She hoisted Dao up by her cybernetic arm, and then Dao helped lift Sabel up onto the ledge. They caught their breath.
In her palm, Dao marveled at the gleam of her crystal. Through Sabel's cybernetic eyes, she saw nothing. But when she closed them, she too saw the cold glow of ghostfire.
Chapter 7 - Transparency
5 Years Later, on Mek Sha
Two gentlemen in scuffed pilot's jackets with illegal blasters on their hips sat in a restaurant in the Blue Light District of Mek Sha. One was a human with a jaw set like iron, the other a Rodian with starry black eyes. They sipped caf in silence and waited. The human pointed his credit chit at a passing newsie-droid and caught the daily scroll that launched out.
He sipped his caf and unfurled the holo-scroll to catch the morning's feed.
"TMS is up," he said, flicking through financials.
"Ah. Yomlok will sell, I'm sure."
"He is a short-sighted fool, yes."
They shared an even-tempered chuckle. Their buttered bread arrived.
"A refill, please, Tilda," the Rodian slid his caf cup to the edge of the table. The serving droid, Tilda, poured him a fresh caf.
He smiled, inasmuch as Rodians could smile, and thanked her.
Tilda put a hand on her hip, "you boys being good today?"
The pair exchanged a brief glance. The human smirked and kept eyes on the news scroll.
"Define 'good' Tilda."
"You scoundrels know what I mean."
The Rodian poured sweetener and cream into his caf, cooling it, and had a sip, "seems to me that 'good' and 'bad' are relative, wouldn't you agree, Chok?"
Chok set down his news scroll,"I would agree, though perhaps it isn't useful to our mutual and steady friend, Tilda, for us to play philosopher over caf. Wouldn't you agree, Tok?"
Tilda would roll her optics if she could.
"Fair enough," said Tok, using his suction fingerpad to rotate the caf cup along the grooves of the saucer, "I suppose the answer to your question, Tilda, is that we are being as good as one can reasonably be for men such as us, in a city such as this."
"If you two weren't such good tippers I'd have gotten sick of you years ago."
Chok smiled and slid a chit into Tilda's hand, "then perhaps it is good fortune for you that we are both good at what we do."
Tilda nodded, "I'll keep you posted. No word yet, but… come on. For old time's sake, who you boys doing business with?"
Chok glanced at Tok, Tok shrugged, "if you must know, Tilda, some gentlemen from the Outer Rim have promised to sell us a nice piece of tech, which we will sell to a highly motivated client for a generous, but reasonable cut of the proceeds."
Tilda squinted her eye-shutters, "what kinda boys from the Outer Rim."
Chok waved his hand, "eh, they're all the same."
"They ain't," Tilda refreshed his caf, "some are real nasty."
Tok smirked at Tilda, "oh, you mean the Nihil? Yes, we're aware. That's why we brought backup this time, in a rather unique form, if I do say so myself."
Tok glanced across the causeway. Tilda looked, her optics zooming in to see two familiar figures: two women, flat-chested with wiry, dense limbs and sleeves of colorful ink along their bodies that could be disguised under business attire. Each had a shaved head, one had bright yellow eyes, and the other had no eyes at all.
One of the women inhaled from the red ember of a deathstick then passed it to the other.
Tilda sparked, "are you two WHACKED?! You're doing business with the twins?!"
"The twins are the finest in the city, at what they do."
"Not unlike us."
Tok sipped, "indeed."
Tilda held up her hand and backed away, "you do what you do boys. Good kriffin' luck."
Elsewhere in the city, a muscular man as tall as a wookie and twice as wide paced in an alleyway near a busy causeway, where vehicles flew by in lanes over a sheer drop straight down to the city's distant underground. From head to toe he was covered in brands and scars, some more or less obscene than others, and there was a large X scarred over his forehead. He seemed to disdain shirts on principle and his eyes were covered by blast goggles.
"Where the FLIP are those goons?!"
A quartermaster in a decent suit with tired eyes checked his comms, "on their way."
"On their way, on their way," he rammed his fist into the side of a dumpster, leaving a clean indentation, "IT'S BEEN FIVE MINUTES."
"They'll be here soon, Admiral Thadus."
"I shouldn't even BE here, I'm the big boss, damn it!"
"It's a big transaction, sir."
"We've got all that plunder!"
The quartermaster masked a sigh with his nostrils, "it has to be fenced and liquidated."
Thadus' eye twitched, "so do that!"
"That is what we're here for, Admiral Thadus."
"AAAAAAAGH!"
Thadus ripped an inhaler from his belt and took a rip of stims, the blue smoke trailing from his lips as he loomed over his long-suffering quartermaster, "don't get on my ass with your NERD STUFF! Make this go faster!"
"M-maybe this isn't the time to bring it up, but, those bespoke stims of yours cost four-thousand per unit–"
The quartermaster found himself cut short, as Thadus had struck him so hard in the gut his vision blacked out and he crumpled to the ground in a wheezing, barely-conscious pile.
Thadus screamed at the three Nihil guards who crept closer to help the quartermaster up, "yeah, YEAH I hit him a little too hard?!'
The quartermaster couldn't breathe, much less speak, as they propped him up.
Thadus grabbed his saliva-slick inhaler and jammed it in the quartermaster's mouth, "I ain't a total jerk, here, here, have some of the good stuff!"
The forced inhale of blue smoke and combat chems tore the quartermaster's eyes wide open. He hacked and coughed, clutched at his chest. Thadus had a good laugh, and when his guards didn't laugh, he smacked one's helmet.
"The kriff kinda pirates are you, that was funny! THIS IS FUNNY STUFF!"
"And you must be Thadus," said Chok, well behind Thadus.
Thadus bristled, turned slowly to face the opening of the alleyway. The two well-dressed gentlemen there seemed unimpressed by the scene.
Thadus wiped his lips, "you my connect?"
"That depends," said Tok, "may we peruse your merchandise?"
Thadus reached with a trunk-like arm and snagged the edge of the nearby dented dumpster, and with sparks and a metallic scream, whipped it along the concrete toward the pair. Chok and Tok took a few reflexive steps back.
Thadus picked his quartermaster up by the collar and set him, still wheezing, on his feet, "well?! Do your job, NERD!"
The poor quartermaster braced himself against the dumpster and caught his breath just enough to speak, "as we… hhhhhhhhh…"
Thok lit up a deathstick, "hey, hey, take your time."
"Hhh… as we discussed," he stood up on shaky legs and opened the top of the dumpster, "a full suite of Nihil shield cells, grades 0A to 0D — hhhho."
The quartermaster bent over and gagged, spitting up a bit of blood, "hhhkay. Payment."
Thok twirled the keychain credit chit in his hand, "would you and your large friend be so kind as to allow our expert to inspect the, ah… dumpster?"
Thadus punched cracks into a nearby wall, "EXPERT?!"
A tattooed, eyeless young woman seemingly materialized from thin air beside Chok and Tok. She gave a lazy salute and popped the tab on an energy drink, taking a long swig, "hi."
Thadus sniffed, leered, and stalked closer. Chok and Tok casually put their hands on their hips so as to display the blasters underneath their suit blazers, "easy, big guy."
Thadus' neck vein throbbed, "expert got a name? Smells familiar."
"My name isn't crucial for this transaction, I just need to confirm the goods are real."
Thadus looked at his quartermaster, his quartermaster looked back. No answers there.
Thadus took a step back, "suuuuuure, flower. Come on over and have a look."
The young woman moved to the dumpster and hopped up on the thin edge of it, balancing with ease and 'staring' down at the merchandise, "hmm…"
Chok and Tok kept their hands hovering close to their blasters and their eyes on Thadus. The quartermaster was sweating more by the moment, "Thadus, we should go."
"Cut you, nerd, we need the… what'd you call it–"
One of the guards spoke up, "capital."
"Capital, yeah!"
The quartermaster spoke through grit teeth, "this isn't going to work."
"Why the kriff not?!"
The young woman hopped down from the dumpster and shared a little murmured conversation with Chok and Tok. Tok smoothed over his Rodian frills and tutted at Thadus and company, "trying to pull a grift on the Mato Syndicate, huh?"
Thadus slammed the dumpster again, as if to emphasize the apparent worthlessness of the contents, "YOU CALLING ME A LIAR?!"
Chok drew his blaster and primed it, "I do not see the need to mince words, sir. Yes."
Thadus jammed his finger into Tok's chest, only to find it stopped by a hidden plate of armor beneath Rodian silks, "we had a deal!"
"And the deal is off. Your goods ain't legit."
Thadus growled low, "maybe I kill you and take the plunder for myself!"
Chok tutted, "would that you could, my friend, but as I'm sure your sensible and wounded friend will tell you, our currency is encrypted, and does not change hands so lightly."
Thadus seethed, gripped Tok's silks in his fist. Tok stuck his blaster straight in Thadus' bare gut, "this shirt is worth more than the shuttle you rode in on, meatbrain."
Thadus let go of the shirt, wiggling his fingers, "oh hoho, well tweedly-dee, forgive me."
Tok dusted off his fine shirt and rolled his neck, but kept his blaster trained ahead.
The young woman slurped her energy drink, "so, did you bring anything real?"
The quartermaster stared at her like a man on death row, "how did you know."
"That's not your concern."
The quartermaster grit his teeth and stood up straight, the chems from earlier showing in the bloodshot eyes and twitching neck, "how… did you know?!"
Chok and Tok primed their blasters. Chok held up a hand, "easy does it, friends, these are made for botched deals and cleaning flesh from suits, not missing shots down a hallway. One squeeze of this trigger and I barely have to aim it."
The quartermaster punched at the dumpster, "HOW DID YOU KNOW?! YOU A SPY?!"
The young woman finished her drink and crumpled the can in her hand, and lied: "nope."
Thadus giggled and stalked toward the trio. The guards drew their rifles and aimed. The quartermaster flexed his bloody knuckles, "I don't give a FLIP if I die, you pull those triggers and our boys fry you – you planetside TRASH think you're the only ones who know how to fight dirty?!"
Thadus kept stalking forward. The trio took a few steps back, weapons still up. The young woman took a steadying breath, as if in meditation, and waved her hand, "this is all a misunderstanding. You should take your goods and leave."
For a moment, Thadus' prowl halted, and he looked confused. The guards put their weapons away, and repeated, "we should take our goods and leave."
The quartermaster sneezed, then clutched his skull, "the… what? Wait…"
The chems in his brain churned. Thadus, too, growled, "slob-knobbering, greased-up monkey-lizard fingers, it's a KRIFFING JEDI, I KNEW IT!"
The quartermaster's eyes stapled open with recognition, "it's that scarred one, that BITCH – OPEN UP!"
The quartermaster whipped a jagged, modded scattergun from his trench coat. Thadus charged at poor Tok, who squeezed off a round straight into Thadus' chiseled, bare stomach. Thadus' skin burned off in black sloughs only to reveal subdermal, cybernetic armor. Tok was bull-rushed straight over the railing of the causeway and thrown into traffic. A luxury speeder collided with his body and careened down out of sight.
Chok fired on Thadus as well, the biggest, most obvious, and threatening target. But once again, the scorching plasma scatter did little to the subdermal armor. Thadus turned and charged at the young woman next, who danced backward with grace, dodging the giant's brutal, but inelegant swings.
The scattergun from the quartermaster unloaded at Chok. The force of it, center mass, sent Chok flying back, ramming him into the railing by the causeway. Thadus giggled, "come on, flower, stop dancing and let me PIN YOU."
She dodged, ducked, wove, and spun around every strike. Thadus roared and charged in for a grapple, only to have her duck under and through his legs. As she came out the other side, the quartermaster loaded another round, "OPEN FIRE, IDIOTS!"
The guards took potshots at the girl, only to hit Thadus several times, "WATCH IT!"
Thadus saw as one of his guards checked his aim, only for his throat to open up and his head to simply fall off of his body to the smell of cooked flesh.
"THERE'S TWO!"
The quartermaster whipped around, loading his scattergun and firing a slug over the shoulder of one guard, but it flew into empty air and hit the wall behind. A shadowy mass undulated to the next guard, whose legs were cut out beneath him as he screamed. The young woman rushed the quartermaster who now had his back to her, leaping onto him and kicking hard into the back of one knee while driving him down into a controlled fall with her hand gripping the back of his head. His forehead smashed into the pavement and he was out.
The third and final guard dropped his rifle and fled, only for that undulating shadow to give chase. The young woman screamed, "NO!"
The shadow stopped, seethed, and let the fleeing man flee.
Thadus' hand clamped around the young woman's skull. She reached up and grabbed his wrist to take the strain off her neck while he lifted her. He wiggled her like a worm dangling on a line and spoke into the shadows of the alleyway, "I got your frieeeeend… so what say we talk?"
The shadows slid away and from them stepped Sabel, the invisible flame of her saber hidden behind the subtle grip of her hand and forearm, "Thadus."
"Well, well, well… if it's yellow-eyes moans-a-lot from the brig."
Sabel's lip twitched with obvious revulsion, "put her down and I don't rip your insides out through your ass and leave you to die in your own filth."
"Man, you are one messed up Jedi," he grinned at Sabel, then wiggled Dao, who, besides hanging onto his wrist, had let herself go limp so as not to risk further injury.
"Put her down."
"How's about… I put her down, after I squeeeeeeeze," Dao felt the pressure on her skull mount and she trembled from the agony of it.
Sabel winced, feeling an echo of the pain herself, so much so that it caused her to visibly falter. Thadus tilted his head, "well that's interesting. Hmmmm…"
Thadus grabbed Dao's leg and twisted it in the very wrong direction. Dao screamed and so did Sabel, and this made Thadus laugh even more, "stars abaft, am I bugging out?! Am I high!? What is this, it's like two tortures for the price of one, I love it! Oh, I'm gonna make you watch her die and FEEL her die and then I'm gonna –"
Thadus felt odd. He looked down and saw his blood and wiring spattered on the pavement in front of him. He looked down a little more and saw a hole in his torso big enough for a monkey-lizard to jump through, "huh."
A silent lance of light blasted through his arm, piercing the subdermal armor just like before, and severing it at the elbow. Dao was dropped, and she ran to Sabel, who helped her tear Thadus' severed hand off of her head. Thadus, still thoroughly confused, looked up and around in a chem-fueled haze, only to see the glinting of multiple sniper scopes from rooftop windows.
Chok wheezed, slumped against the railing, his chest armor dented and his shirt ruined and bloody, a comms device in his hand, "Syndicate rolls deep on Mek Sha, Rim Boy. On your knees or your head is next."
Thadus was an animal, and like an animal, he seemed to know when he was outmatched and needed to flee or submit. Slowly, he dropped to his knees. The auto-coagulants in his cybernetic body got to work stemming the bleeding and catastrophic damage, causing great, big, black clots to form around his synthetic organs and the stump on his arm.
"Yeah, alright. You wanna take me alive? Wanna see… hhhheh… how that works out?"
Sabel planted her boot in the small of his back, and by the Force, snapped him forward into the pavement, "shut up."
Thadus giggled, "ohhhh hohoho, you remind me of him sometimes –"
Sabel curled her fingers in the air and the sound of Thadus' crunching trachea made Dao wince, "Sabel, stop."
Sabel allowed herself to enjoy another second of strangling Thadus by the Force, before using it to pinch his jaw artery, putting him out cold. She resisted the urge to kick him and/or slit his throat while he was unconscious, then turned and walked away.
Chapter 8 - Shreds
A pristine, gleaming ship dropped hyperspace just outside Mek Sha control range. It requested docking, and had the signature of a Republic diplomat, but the officiant IFF serial code was nowhere to be found by traffic controllers on the ground.
"HQ this is tower five requesting administrator assessment of docking applicant 08246."
"Hold for assessment."
"Copy that."
Tower five traffic control waited as the strange ship spun and dove toward their docking fields. A controller leaned over his comms, "Kuat-08246, this facility requires docking permission to access. Please submit a formal request, over."
No response.
The tower controller rubbed at his eyes, leaned back in his seat, and muttered "kriffing tourists… what do you want to bet it's another Republic big shot here to party off the books?"
His colleague kept her eyes on her radar and sipped caf, "I wouldn't take that bet. They always fly like half-blind hutts – 08246 is flying like an ace."
The first tower controller squinted at the readouts, "true. For flip's sake, they're gonna hit somebody–"
The fancy ship divebombed a freighter, only to race along the top, the shields from each ship flickering from feedback.
"KUAT-08246, RESTRICT SPEED IMMEDIATELY!"
"Where the hell is admin?"
Their office comms clicked on, "this is admin, ready with assessment."
"Proceed, please."
"Kuat-08246 is VIP, clear a pad once docking request is processed."
"We don't have any pads for a large –"
"Clear a pad."
The traffic controller clenched his teeth, "yes, sir."
His colleague sipped her caf, "aren't you glad I didn't take that bet."
An automated docking request pinged their console from 08246.
"... Kuat-08246 you are clear to land on pad two-niner. Please check your speed and observe all local safety regulations. Welcome to Mek Sha."
The white ship slid past the docking fields and waited over pad 29. The current occupant of pad 29 would later be furious to learn their mega-yacht was commandeered by Mek Sha droids and sent to cruise in orbit until further notice, but that wasn't 08246's problem.
Former Senator Kayatonae arrived in the airlock wearing a drab power suit, simple mirror shades, and a cap. Tzentchen was at her side, dressed-down and taking notes on her holo-tablet.. Kayatonae was on a comms call as she walked, "well that's how these Nihil lowlifes are, agent, they trip over their own rigging the moment they're asked to deal with a fight that isn't gunning down civilians."
Kayatonae waited for the airlock to stabilize and handed Tzentchen a roll of paper credits, "per diem." Tzentchen smiled and pocketed it, then went to check the airlock controls.
The former senator sighed at the voice on the other end of the call, "could you keep the faith for five minutes? This isn't going to work if you and everyone else in the military sector aren't on board and ready to go."
Kayatonae rolled her eyes at Tzentchen, spinning her finger around her temple and listening to the old general go on and on about 'the proper channels' and other rot. Tzentchen suppressed a giggle. The airlock doors hissed open and Kayatonae saw a pair of familiar Jedi with some interesting individuals in escort, "general, I need to go – we've got a live capture."
The call terminated and she stepped out onto the catwalk. Behind her, the sleek, white disc of her command ship cut a nice profile in the otherwise gloomy interior of the Mek Sha megaport. Kayatonae and Tzentchen walked down the rusty catwalk to meet their allies.
"Shore party," Kayatonae grinned, holding out her arms, "and this must be the legendary meat puppet, 'Thadus the Destroyer.'"
Thadus was flanked by masked figures with high-powered rifles on their shoulders. He had his only remaining arm bolted to the restraining girdle behind his back, and the chains around his legs attached to the muzzle on his face. Kayatonae walked right up to him and looked him in the eyes, "you a biter, 'admiral'?"
Thadus growled, low and lethargic, his eyes bloodshot and barely open.
Sabel rammed the hard pommel of her shoto saber into Thadus' kidney, but he barely flinched, "yes, he is – hydraulic jaw. We'll need to secure him thoroughly aboard the ship before we even think about interrogation."
Kayatonae crossed her arms, "can we at least get dinner before takeoff?"
Dao bowed, "Sabel, myself, and our friends from the Syndicate will see to securing your prisoner, Senator. Please enjoy your evening."
Kayatonae held out her arm and Tzentchen took it. Together they walked past the group and toward the neon promenade of VIP processing. Dao watched them go with a small smile.
"Not a bad life," said one of the Syndicate enforcers, his voice garbled by his enviro-suit.
Dao looked back at the others, "better than it was, for her. She hated public service."
Sabel used the force to shove the drugged Thadus up the catwalk, an invisible boot punting him in the backside every time he lagged.
Dao bowed to the two enforcers, "for your assistance and discretion in this matter, your Syndicate once again has the thanks of myself, Master Sabel, and the Jedi Order. Please accept your stipend for your service on behalf of the Republic."
Dao offered up a credit chit, gleaming and full of digital riches. The two enforcers shared a glance, one tilted their head as if listening to something. Indeed, Dao heard muffled voices from within their helmet through a comms implant, but couldn't make them out.
"Deal's changed."
Dao blinked, "um…"
Dao looked to where Sabel had been, but she was already in the airlock with Thadus, out of sight and out of earshot. Sabel. She called out through their bond. Help.
You're fine. Busy.
Dao forced a smile at the enforcers and bowed for the third time in five minutes, "please, we will be happy to work with you. What has changed?"
"Nobody told us we'd be dealing with a top-class cyborg and a bunch of Nihil on combat drugs and high alert – got Chok a fractured sternum and Tok a month-long soak in a tank."
"The augmentations surprised us, as well – he must have installed them between when our intel was acquired and now."
The enforcers shared a look again. One of them crossed their arms and glared at Dao, "how old was this intel?"
"A year old."
The other enforcer chuffed an annoyed laugh, "you've got to be kriffin' kidding me."
"Nihil intel is hard to come by and we have the best in the Order."
"Look, all due respect little padawan, but… the fee is tripled."
Dao felt her head sweating. She gulped down nervous tears, "the original deal included hazard pay, you can't…"
"Triple fee or you can consider our professional relationship terminated after this transaction, and that's a promise from up top, not me."
Dao's head swam with disbelief. And then she focused. She took a breath.
Dao observed their auras. Orange and blue complexities. Flecks of rare gold for friends and family. Purple pain from scars. Black spots where numbness was. And then… there. The shy green of deception. The quivering of anticipation.
The shadow padawan lifted her chin, "no."
"Then we walk."
Dao danced back, holding the credit chit to her chest when one of the enforcers came to grab it, "then you get nothing and you explain to your 'up top' why you have nothing."
"Kid… it isn't personal, it's just business."
"This isn't business, it's a low-level shakedown."
"Is that so?"
"It is. Shall we see what Chok and Tok have to say about you trying to grift poor little Dao when neither of her supervisors are around?"
The enforcers stared at her, unmoved. Dao crossed her arms, equally unmoved.
Finally, one enforcer lifted their hands in surrender, "fine. Whatever."
Dao stuck the credit chit out and was sure to take a picture of the transaction with her handheld comms device, "I won't tell anyone you tried; now go, and thank you for helping."
They took the chit and walked off. One shoved the other, "I told you it was a stupid idea."
"Jedi are forgiving, there wasn't nothing to lose."
"Heh, fair enough."
Dao wrinkled her nose, stuck her tongue out at them while their backs were turned, and stalked up the catwalk toward the ship's airlock.
Thadus gagged as another bucket full of icy water poured over his face and ran deep up his nose. He sputtered and fumed, but his body was thoroughly restrained. Around him, monitors blinked with his vitals, and the lighting of the ship's brig was purposefully directed on his face and nowhere else. Looming over him were two glowing-yellow, cybernetic eyes – Sabel.
Thadus' muscular body undulated, gasping for air, "you… aren't Jedi…"
"Yes, I am," she plopped a hose into the bucket on the floor, "I'm just very bad at it."
Thadus growled and strained against the cables restraining his limbs. The rivets on the floor and walls groaned, but held fast. Sabel rocked back and forth on her feet as the hose hissed water into the bucket on the floor.
Thadus had a moment to breathe, "better be careful, girl," he grinned, spat up more water, "might be fixing for a one-way trip to, heh… Lola Sayu."
Sabel genuinely had no idea what he was talking about, but she sensed he knew something she didn't, and that made her skin crawl with agitation, "stop deflecting. I'll ask one more time: where is the Admiral?"
"And I'll tell you again – I killed him and took his job, bright-eyes, what's so kriffing hard to understand about it?"
"You DIDN'T," she rammed the pommel of her lightsaber into his throat, but the sub-dermal weave made it feel like hitting a knot of wood, "don't lie to a Jedi, idiot, I know you didn't kill him, I know he's playing at something – trying to get me off his scent, is that it?!"
Even spread out like a rack of meat on the table, he flexed his pecs for her and winked, "damn, you've really got a crush on that scrawny genius, don't you?"
Sabel's mind was on fire with a cocktail of rage, doubt, and above all, a sadistic, overwhelming need to take her lightsaber and meticulously separate his organic skin from the cybernetics beneath.
Actually, that isn't a bad idea. Maybe he has a pain inhibitor I could cut out…
Sabel's lightsaber ignited in silence. Thadus would feel the heat of it caressing over his pecs and his eyes focused on the invisible blade, "I'd say you don't have the guts, but…"
His eyes glanced between hers and the lightsaber, "I've seen you do worse."
Sabel leaned over his face and smiled, "yes."
She sliced slowly into his skin, "you have."
Thadus didn't scream or squirm – the water torture had been worse. The lightsaber cut deeper and he had to watch as she began to sever his…
… Sabel felt water splashing over her foot and it brought her back to reality. She realized what she was doing and killed her blade, dropping it to the floor with a clatter.
Go rest. Dao was always so soothing through their bond.
Yes. I should… go lie down.
Go lie down, Sabel.
Light poured into the brig. In the doorway, Dao stood as an eyeless doppelganger of Sabel, and Sabel tore herself from the scene, pushing past Dao with her face in her hands. She would not let that man see her cry, but Dao, of course, already knew.
With Sabel gone, Dao stepped into the room with an empathetic frown on her face.
"Yo," Thadus glanced between her and the cauterized gash on his pec, "you one of those healing Jedi? Maybe fix me up and I'll talk, yeah?"
Dao's bare feet splashed in a puddle of water building around the table. She crouched down, turned off the hose, and picked up Sabel's lightsaber, "no, I'm not. That ability is rare."
Thadus gave his restraints another test. The rivets groans, the cables shimmered, but he was still held fast, "well what's your deal, then?! You the good cop, eh? Gonna tell me we're friends, buy me a caf and a stick? HA!"
Dao held the shoto lightsaber in her hands gently. To her, it radiated a red aura in the shape of Sabel's handprint, and even through the walls of the ship, Sabel's anger was like the angry bass beat of an underground club heard from the street.
Thadus tilted his head at Dao, "stars abaft… are you… wait, are you that kid?"
Dao gazed over him in silence, saw his aura illuminating his muscular, wiry body. It was a bright red, with dead spots where empathy should have been, and through his interior there were long, telltale bends in bright circuitry and globs of energy she recognized as batteries powering extensive cybernetic suites.
Dao stuck the lightsaber into her belt and then picked up the overflowing bucket of water. She then dumped it into the grate on the floor, "I'm her, yes – it's nice of you to remember me, I didn't think you paid attention to others."
"Course I do, I'm not a total lunk."
"Sometimes I look at people like you and I wonder how you went from being a little baby to being… what you've become. Life is strange, isn't it?"
Thadus didn't respond immediately. He blinked his eyes and looked briefly confused, "uhh… you think too much, Kid Jedi. You ever think about how it's weird you went from being a little baby to being some kinda space wizard who makes all the rules?"
"I don't make any rules, Mr. Thadus."
Thadus strained against the cables for a third time, "coulda fooled me."
"I take your point," she set the bucket back on the ground, then leaned back against a monitor and crossed her arms, "but, hear mine: I don't make any rules. I just follow them."
"Like I give a womprat's prick about the difference – here I am, strapped on a table with a headache, against MY will, and you're passing the buck to your boss. WHO CARES."
"I take your point."
Thadus grit his teeth, "great, so let me go, lil' miss Pure-of-Kriffing-Heart!"
"If I let you go, you'll continue to be destructive, and we won't get crucial intel."
"Kid, either you let me go or kill me – those are the two options you've got, full-stop."
"You might be right about that."
"Of course I am, you saw what happened in here – and don't kriffing lie, I know you were watching – your Edgy Jedi Mama tried to give me the business and I just spat it right back in her face. No pain in this galaxy that can get to me, so might as flip it - KILL OR RELEASE?"
Dao saw the bright glob of electrical energy towards the base of his spine, flickering with the distinct vibrations of digital communications – some kind of regulation unit, if her studies had taught her anything. She held her hand out toward Thadus.
"That's right, flower," he tried to keep chill, "let old Thadus go and he won't tear ya."
Dao reached out through the Force, felt the heat of the regulator in her palm through telekinetic senses. She squeezed it. Thadus' body broke into convulsions.
"FFFFFFFUUUUUAAAAAAA—"
Even outside the ship, passing merchants and porters heard the muffled scream.
Back inside, Dao released the pressure on the regulator. Thadus' heart thundered, his eyes were bloodshot, and it was as if months of backlogged agony from chem abuse, headbutts, wall punching, cybernetic surgery, and having his arm ripped off all caught up with him at once. His mind tried to black out, but then the benevolent Jedi cradled his brain through the Force, soothing him just enough to keep him lucid.
Thadus' lip quivered, "h-h-how… whaaat the hhhhhhhhhh…"
Dao sighed, "please, don't make this difficult. We just want to know where the Admiral really is, and your lying is only making this process more unpleasant."
"Yeah," he swallowed an actual lump in his throat, maybe some kind of metal-laced tissue come loose that tasted like a fistful of old coins, "yeah, okay… okay, I've – hahahahhhhokay yeah, I've got you, Kid Jedi, you just ease up on that space magic."
Dao crossed her arms and leaned back again, "I don't enjoy hurting you. Continue."
"This is the deal and I mean it," he looked her in the eyes. Dao sensed that familiar cocktail of sincerity and fear that always meant she was getting close to the end of an interrogation. She nodded at him.
Thadus swallowed again, "okay, so, I did actually kill him, but, that isn't the end of it."
"... please explain."
"The guy's a genius and he's got his own R&D ship, the Candescent, and those boys are always cooking up new kinds of tech and contingencies and whatever… they're the ones that fixed me up and made me the beast you see before you."
Dao glanced up and down his body, "understood. Go on."
"Oh come on, flower, don't tell me you're not feeling something."
Dao told him the truth: "I do not feel much of anything most of the time, Mr. Thadus."
"And you Jedi say we're the monsters."
"Emotions are fine, but some of us are more or less emotional than others – focus, please – you said you killed him, but that's not the end, and I need to understand why."
"Clones, is why – lots of em, on the Candescent, in his safehouses, all over."
Sabel, who was overhearing everything from her comms terminal in her room, spoke to Dao through their bond: Get a copy of his IFF implant and wipe him. We have what we need.
You wipe him.
If I have to smell his disgusting B.O. and look at his face one more time, I will cut his head from his neck and you know it.
I don't know how to do the things you're asking me to do!
Thadus whistled at Dao, "can I go or what, space kid?"
"Wait here."
Dao rushed out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She glanced down the ship's hall toward Sabel's room and walked to the door. It was cracked open and she spoke through the slit, "please come and do the wipe I–"
Sabel rammed the door open and shoved her way past Dao. Dao could feel the furnace of red malice flaring off of the woman and ran to catch up, "Sabel, stay in control."
"I am in control."
Dao was not convinced. Through the Force, Sabel's lightsaber ripped from Dao's belt into the older Jedi's hand, and she barged back into the brig. Dao wanted to stop her, but, she could not – she could never stop Sabel, when Sabel got a certain way. The unfortunate reality of this and previous situations like it, was that Dao was so overwhelmed by the emptiness of Sabel's internal reality that all the padawan could do was protect herself mentally.
She would form a wall against their bond, avert her gaze, and wait until her blood-mother finished whatever grim business was at hand.
Chapter 9 - Low Jedi
Sabel left Dao on the ship. When Sabel last saw her, the girl was still curled up in a ball like a frightened sandworm on her bed, refusing to talk. Out on the neon glam of the Mek Sha promenade, Sabel slipped a few chits to some kids with hard eyes, and got their help dragging a few heavy-duty refuse bags to the community dumpster.
It's done.
Dao did not respond. Sabel washed her hands with the bottle of sani-soap she always kept in her pocket and checked her calendar: garbage pickup in twelve hours. She knew that would be pushing it, but, it would be enough time for what was left of Thadus to be disposed of before anything started to reek.
Her communicator beeped. Sabel accepted the call and Kayatonae popped into holo.
"Sabel," she was slurping up a cascade of noodles, "come get breakfast with us!"
"No, thank you, I need to go back and check on Dao."
"You get what you need from that lunk?"
"More than enough."
Kayatonae wiped at her lips with her gloved hand and chewed in silence. She tipped her glasses down and leaned into the call, "and?"
"And he's done."
"... guess that explains the dumpster."
Sabel started down the busy street. It was early morning, about an hour before galactic standard dawn, and the city canopy was conveying a warm, orange hologram meant to simulate a terrestrial sunrise. The Jedi stopped at the railing and watched wind from traffic sway blue lanterns hanging across the causeway, and for a few moments, she was at peace.
"Sabel?"
"Yes."
"You solid?"
"Yes."
"I don't like it when you drift away, Sabel, makes me nervous."
"Not drifting away – grounding."
"If you say so. Just remember from my end it's, ah – anxiety-inducing when my main fixer lulls in and out of conversation like she's high on shakashoom."
"You may no longer be a senator, Kaya, but I am still a Jedi." Sabel's mind drifted toward Dao, curled up and cut off in that bunk on the ship, "even if I'm a bad one."
"Better a bad Jedi than a good scumbag, Sabel, trust me – at least you take a minute to think about the consequences of killing someone."
"I don't do it lightly. Thadus was absolutely malignant and created so much suffering."
"Did… Dao know that?"
Yes, she did. That padawan shared every bloody nightmare.
Sabel felt her stomach growl, so loud that it caught her by surprise. She looked back into the holo,"may I still join you for breakfast?"
"We're at the Slophouse in the Blue Light District."
"'We?'"
Tzentchen leaned into the holo, cheeks puffed out with pastries, "hiiii Shabel!"
Sabel sighed the word "hi." She then terminated the call and used her communicator to summon her speeder. Dao would have to comfort herself a while longer, but she tried reaching out one more time.
I'm here if you need to talk.
No answer.
In truth, Dao wandered the corridors of the ship. She used to like the ship, but now, the thing felt stained, less like a home in the sky and more like a coffin. Dao had to walk by the brig to get to the bridge from her room. As she passed by, she saw the ship's service droids scrubbing and sanitizing the room.
The chemical reek of sanitizing agents had erased any sensual evidence of Thadus' execution and dismemberment. But they could not sanitize the stains in the Force, which Dao saw as streaks of red, pocked by circles of nothingness – nothingness always scared her more than red. Dao saw the monitors in the brig still processing the encryption on the data chit that Sabel had sliced out of the man's skull.
She couldn't strain herself to keep the wall up between them any longer. So she gave up, dropped her psychic guard, and reached out to her Master.
When do you know when to inflict pain? When to end life?
Sabel heard the question through their bond as she smeared butter over black toast and half-listened to Kayatonae and Tzentchen gossip about the latest holo-docs. The simple food filled her stomach and took the edge off – it helped, given how listless Dao felt through their connection. The listlessness was the hardest to counsel.
Master Sabel. Please tell me.
I never truly know – the Force guides me.
You don't enjoy it anymore, do you?
You tell me., bondmate.
You don't. It's worse. You feel… empty. Like the chasm on Ilum that I danced over.
It's how I keep the feelings out of it.
Hate is not a tangible thing, not when I see it in others. Hate is the emptiness. Hate is the dead spots in the aura, the absence of connection… like a spiritual death.
I know it's dangerous to drink from that well. But it's better to just end them and be done with it, like taking out the trash.
You hate them so much…
You should, too.
A Jedi should not hate – no one should hate.
Sabel had already stuffed the buttered bread into her mouth and was softening it with hot caf, chewing, swallowing, and lining up a bowl of mixed blue fruit slices with sugar on top. She stuffed a few of those in, too.
On the ship, Dao opened the fridge in the kitchenette attached to the bridge, and pulled out a pink-flavor Jolo-Jolt energy drink. She cracked the tab, enjoyed the chemical scent of the first fizz, and took a long swig of her favorite childhood treat.
Sabel gagged at the sudden taste of it on her tongue, causing the creamy sweetness of her blue fruit to take on a bizarre plastic and medicine flavor.
Dao, stop drinking those kriffing things!
You said one per day.
Sabel pushed the food she had been previously enjoying away from herself and tried to blast the flavor of 'pink' from her mouth with black caf. It mostly worked, but now her mouth just tasted like ash. A headache grew into a pernicious stabbing sensation in her temple and she found herself staring out the window of the cafe.
This connection we share is a curse, Dao.
You're not making me feel better.
I mean that it's a test most Jedi never have to endure, let alone Low Jedi like us.
… Low Jedi?
Sabel gulped down more black caf. Back on the ship, Dao gagged at the ashy flavor of it and slurped on her energy drink to fight back, then said aloud, "what is a low Jedi?"
Jedi on the cusp of failing the Order, of falling to darkness, or just… being a liability. Thadus said something to me before you came in, something about 'Lola Sayu'.
Is that someone you know?
No, it doesn't mean anything to me.
Then, what?
Do us a favor. Eat something proper, then get on the HoloNet and look for anything about 'Lola Sayu,' I think it might be a place, not a person.
Dao sat down at the terminal on the bridge of the ship and unfolded the HoloNet panel, kicked her feet up, and opened a bag of air-dried skincrisps (loaded herb flavor), "yeah, okay."
Sabel willed their bond to dampen, for the sake of being able to stomach breakfast. I'm going quiet now, getting sick of the bleedthrough.
It's getting worse.
Don't remind me.
The two did their best to eat without nauseating or disturbing one another, but the effort required to dull the sensations of their bond remained extreme. It was worth the cost, just to get food in their stomachs.
Dao spent a few minutes on various browsers searching for 'Lola Sayu' and it would be her disguised peeks into the darker corners of the local Mek Sha HoloNet that yielded the strangest results; it was a transcribed audio journal, in a man's voice. Dao put on her headphones.
"L5-4, please check my holo," she spoke to the ship's droid brain, "and set your analysis spectrum to deep audio." The ship obeyed, tuning into her browsing activities and bringing up a monitor that split the audio into tracks of sound and sub-sound.
Dao listened to every word, scanned every letter in the transcript. This is what she heard:
"Lola Sayu, Lola Sayu, every night the Force stabs me with this vision of that disgusting planet, like this hanging yellow eye in space, all crusty with sulphur – Lola Sayu. You think I don't know what you're doing, Council? You think I'm stupid? You think you can intimidate me?! I'm out here, doing good work, doing the will of the people, I'm cutting it all out at the roots and you're taking meetings and reading tea leaves in your golden towers on Coruscant! How can you?! How can you ignore the rot and misery right underneath your feet?! Shakashoom and chem burns, dead mothers and ruined sisters, children living in fear and containment, you feel THAT disturbance in the force?! Outside the walls of the Republic's expensive utopia, the galaxy is a hell and no Jedi with half a heart could walk ten steps without falling to their knees in rage and despair, could not get up again, without – fffff- vowing! Vowing to end it! All of it!"
Dao sensed she knew that voice, but pinning it was elusive,"L5-4, scan results."
The ship's droid brain replied with a beep-boop, "ventilation. No traffic. Generator hum. Voices through walls."
"Voices?"
"Crying. Gender unknown, age unknown. Possibly prisoners."
"Somewhere in the lower levels of Mek Sha, then. Can you identify the primary speaker's identity? It sounds so familiar."
"Scanning Republic databases."
Dao tipped her head back and centered herself with an exhale. The ebbs and flows of Mek Sha life were her meditation. It was life on caf and sticks, death in alleys and back rooms. It was the laughter of children raised on synthetic meat and street skeet. It was the water pumps roaring at the base of the city, turning ice into life. It was the sewer filters straining filth and residue back down through the skyscrapers into reservoirs to cycle back in. It was much like the Underworld of Coruscant, and feeling all this through the Force made her heart lighten.
Beep boop: "match found."
Dao leaned up and closed the holo-terminal, "go on."
"Classified information. Padawan Dao and Master Sabel are not authorized."
"We have level six clearance!"
"You have discovered information related to an open investigation into a level eight classified matter," the terminal beeped with an incoming message, "relaying message."
The droid-brain spoke with the voice of the Jedi High Council's administrative droid network: "Hello, - . . . D A O -. Thank you for your service to the Republic."
"Is this pre-recorded or can I–"
"This is a pre-recorded message with limited interactive input. Due to your exposure to sensitive intelligence regarding the ongoing investigation of REDACTED, you must report immediately to the Jedi High Council in-person at your earliest convenience."
"Does Sabel have to come?"
"Processing inquiry. Answer: YES."
Dao tipped her head back and groaned.
"Thank you for your compliance. Message terminated."
The message deleted itself from the ship's databank. Dao opened a holo-call to Sabel, so as to avoid further agitation through their Force bond.
"Master Sabel. Something strange is happening – do you feel anything?"
Sabel thumbed through the dossier that had been given to her by Kayatonae over breakfast, as she stared out over lanes of building morning traffic, "deja vu."
"That isn't helpful."
"Whatever you just stumbled into, it's related to something familiar, but it's elusive – like the truth is hiding from me in the fog, on purpose and alive. What happened with Lola Sayu?"
"The Force guided me to a strange HoloSite, just an audio journal, but the voice was so familiar, and when I asked the ship for help, I was pulled into some kind of ongoing investigation by the Jedi Council."
"Something for us to look into, then, when the intel arrives."
"There was no intel delivery, just an automated warning, and a demand to report in-person."
Sabel forgot about the dossier in her hands, "did we just step in something?"
"A big something."
"A big pool of rancor piss, sounds like."
"Any ideas, Master Sabel?"
"There are only two things above our clearance level with the Shadows: internal affairs and dark forces."
"I don't know what either of those things mean. They sound bad. Are they bad?"
"They're the things that keep the Jedi Council awake at night."
"What are they?"
"We'll see soon enough, apparently. Call ending."
Sabel stuck the dossier in her backpack and used her datapad to send Kayatonae a text message: "emergency summons. Taking taxi to Coruscant."
Kayatonae's reply was immediate: "you told me you were on a long leash these days"
Sabel glanced over her shoulder toward the window of the Slophouse, where she saw Kayatonae and Tzentchen still sitting on the other side of the glass. Sabel threw up her arms in exasperation and Kayatonae did the same, each with datapads in hand. With a look of shared frustration, they communicated more than words could. They shared a farewell wave as Sabel leapt into her speeder toward the starport. Dao left Kayatonae's comfortable ship and ordered a taxi shuttle to Coruscant.
She thumbed 'internal affairs' into her datapad's info bar.
Internal Affairs: the means by which institutions police their own members and deal with corruption.
Dao thumbed 'dark forces' into her datapad's info bar.
Dark Forces: the most popular work of Jedi fiction to date, the Dark Forces Chronicles tell a story of three Jedi warriors lost in time, sent back to the era of the Old Republic to aid the ancient order in their eternal battle against the Sith Empire.
Dao wrinkled her face up, "the kriff is a 'Sith'?"
Dao thumbed 'sith empire' into her datapad's info bar.
Sith Empire: a now extinct civilization defeated by the Jedi and the Old Republic, the Sith Empire were characterized by a society of extreme stratification and military conquest, at the center of which were the Sith, an order of Force-users who twisted the Force into something they called 'the dark side.' Sith were universally self-absorbed, violent, and psychotic; while some could be rehabilitated by Jedi outreach, most were driven into seclusion and eventual extinction.
Dao's inquiries went deeper and deeper, and by the time the shuttle and Sabel arrived, she'd given herself enough anxiety to induce minor heart palpitations. Sabel, obliged to experience it through their Force bond, put a hand on the girl's shoulder in the shuttle and did her best to soothe Dao. But, all that did was spread the palpitations to Sabel.
It was a long flight back to Coruscant.
Chapter 10 - Fallen Far and Wide
Oh.
It was a beautiful day in the galaxy, for the Admiral. Yes, everything was proceeding smoothly, and his plans were going, well… to plan.
He strolled down the hall of his capital ship, a few whipped toadies trailing behind – man, woman, Rodian, wookie, human, Twi'lek, blah blah blah. Irrelevant details. They all bore his mark, they all had his scars, and they all danced to his tune. Except for one.
"But today is the day, Caliper!" He clicked his heels and swatted Caliper's back with his electro-cane. Caliper, the bent Rodian, screamed as electricity lanced through his spine, and then laughed at the honor of the Master's touch.
"Yes, Master! A glorious day!"
"A magnificent day, Caliper! Can't you feel my joy?!"
Caliper clapped his hands and the various toadies were compelled to also clap their hands, though one of them was zapped by her collar for taking too long.
The Admiral tsked, "new girl, you'll get the hang of it, it's your first day."
"You're too kind, Master," she bowed her head as they walked down the hall.
"Too kind? Very well, I will dial it back."
The Twi'lek girl's heart sank and she did her very best to smile without shedding tears.
"Just beyond this door, Master, you will see what marvels await!"
The Admiral tapped the door and leaned in to lick a probe and have his eye scanned.
"WELCOME ADMIRAL."
The door slid open and he strut inside with his coterie of whipping-creatures. His hair was perfectly blue and the stars tattooed along his cheekbone were a merry red this morning. The room itself was tall with tree-sized cables running up and down the walls to carry power from the reactor to the ship's systems. But the centerpiece of the room was The Pod.
It was a milky egg, about the size of a small speeder. It was, tragically, empty.
"But not for long," he said aloud, and no one questioned him. The Admiral checked his watch, beeped it through his calendar, checked the past ten years of to-dos and to-don'ts:
Flog the slaves
Maul the slaves
Eat a slave?
Tell Thadus to get more slaves
Look into cloning tech
Steal cloning tech
Reverse-engineer stolen cloning tech
Clone self
… clone slaves?
He flipped through year after year, it was all pretty much the same thing. Ah, there:
Ten-year anniversary with Sabel the Jedi.
The Admiral sighed and placed a hand over his heart, "has it really been ten years, Caliper?"
"I wouldn't know, Master, I have only existed for two years."
"Oh, right. I keep thinking you're the old version."
"Ha ha ha. No, Master, I am the one you replaced the foolish old version with."
"Yes, I remember that old thing, always… scraping and bending and going much too far with all of the submission – well, not too far, but too far at the wrong times."
"Yes, Master, we would never deviate from your will. We are molded to you."
"Never deviate? Well, that would get boring, you can deviate a little, how else will I find an excuse to punish you?"
The Twi'lek girl's eyes welled up with tears, and she cracked, muttering "mama…"
The Admiral's eye twitched, "what did you just say?"
"Nothing Master, please don't hurt me."
He walked to her, polished boots a-clicking, and slipped a finger under her chin, "silly flower. There are no mothers here, and there never will be. No mothers. Do you understand?"
She nodded desperately.
"No mothers, NONE! Disgusting! We're beyond mothers! We could have legions of beautiful, perfect clones, some for fighting, some for pleasure, some for sport! My vision is the path the Nihil will surely choose in the end, and you're going to HELP me."
"Yes, Master, of course."
"So forget about your stinking mother. Could she protect you from me?"
The girl's tears wouldn't stop falling over his hand and she choked, "no…"
"Then what good was she."
He raised his hand as if to strike her, and she closed her eyes. But then he patted her cheek and dried her tears, "there, there. It's hard now, but it'll get easier."
The Admiral turned to face The Pod. His technicians and scientists danced about the labs and work bays.
The Admiral spoke into the mic attached to his suit sleeve, "are we ready?!"
Every technician and scientist spoke out in unison, "ready!"
"Lock her in! Lock her down! Drag our wayward daughter back home," he reached out to The Pod, caressed his fingers along its warm surface, and smiled, "bring her back home, to the walled garden I have grown for her…"
Dao fell asleep against Sabel on the shuttle ride. They were both exhausted, but Sabel couldn't rest, not with something gnawing at the back of her mind. Something was wrong. Something like deja vu, a sense in the force that she was passing through a portal she'd seen before – something was happening, but she didn't know what. A forgotten anniversary? A forgotten friend? Had she left the gas on in her apartment?
The shuttle was cramped, but at least they were the only ones aboard. Its pilot was a droid used to ferrying passengers along the hyperlane between Coruscant and Mek Sha, and its routes were fairly standard and swift. They would be arriving within the hour.
Sabel noticed it at first as a clicking sensation in her temple, followed by mild heat. It was like some implant she was never aware of suddenly came on. She leaned back and willed her integrated systems to run a self-diagnostic. Everything seemed fine, but she couldn't shake the paranoia, and so she ran another self-diagnostic. Everything was fine, again, same readouts.
Same exact readouts?
Sabel cross-referenced the first diagnostic against the second. They were identical, with no normal fluctuations in hormone levels or body temperature. They also both had the exact same timestamps, down to the second, and…
… they were timestamped for ten years prior.
Sabel had been walking around for ten years with sliced diagnostic software.
The heat in her temple grew. Dao woke up, clutched her own head, and cried out in pain.
Sabel shot up to her feet, "something is wrong, something is very, very wrong."
"Master Sabel, what is that…"
The shuttle's hyperlane bubble shook. They felt their ears pop as a spacetime shockwave massaged the air inside the ship. And then the metal of the ship groaned as it lost balance.
The droid was blindsided, "we seem to be experiencing an unprecedented hyperspace anomaly and an interdiction. Please remain calm, I am engaging in evasive maneuvers."
Sabel grabbed onto the straps of a nearby seat and ripped it open. With the ship careening up, down, left, and right, the two Jedi struggled to pull emergency exosuits from beneath the seating and prime them with oxygen cells. It was just in time for the hyperspace bubble to collapse, sending their ship into an uncontrolled tumble through deadspace, in the middle of a lane. The whole shuttle shook with the force of whatever was exiting hyperspace near them.
Dao pulled open one of the windows and saw it above them:
A massive capital ship, gliding out of a portal from hyperspace, straight from her childhood nightmares. It had been so long her mind was paralyzed, but the animal in her recognied it immediately, and her breathing turned to hyperventilation.
Sabel grabbed Dao's shoulders and then her head and looked at her face through their exosuit masks, "FOCUS. STOP IT."
Dao nodded and breathed, breathed, breathed felt the lifegiving air of her oxygen cells, felt the reverberating… empty nothingness of space all around them. Felt the whale-like roar of the capital ship above them as its bay doors opened and belched out fighters.
"Master Sabel, what do we do?"
"We trust that they want us alive."
"You told me never to let Nihil take me alive."
"I did. But…"
Sabel clenched her teeth. She didn't know what to do and she knew she was failing. There was no ambush to be had, no kidney to shank in space. Ship-to-ship combat was the great equalizer, for a force-user, and they might as well have been inside of a coffin.
The droid was cheery as ever, "our subsystems and thrusters have been disabled by electronic warfare. I will open channels to the belligerents and warn them that Republic Hyperlane Patrol will be arriving shortly."
Sabel braced inside the passenger cabin, "in fifteen minutes, at their fastest, we'll be debris by then!"
"Then, madam Jedi, what do you suggest we do?"
"Hail the ship! Let me speak to him!"
"Him, madam Jedi?"
"JUST HAIL THE BLASTED SHIP!"
"Hailing, as requested."
The Admiral's face popped into holo in the center of the passenger cabin, "how's the headache? Didn't cook your brain?"
Sabel shuddered, wanted to stab her lightsaber through the holo, wanted to scream and pin him to the floor and drive her thumbs into his eyes, "what did you do to me?"
"Just a little transponder, some lightweight slicing, nothing you'd find if you weren't specifically looking for them – aren't my people clever?"
Dao wanted to hide behind Sabel.
The Admiral leaned, "and who is this lean little cup of tea?"
Sabel spoke through a snarl, "you will leave her here and take me."
The shuttle lurched into a barrel roll as one of the fighters rammed into its wing. Dao and Sabel flattened against the ceiling and both felt queasy from the spinning. The Admiral had a good laugh, "ahhh, I don't think you're in any position to negotiate."
Dao quaked in her exosuit and did not feel like herself. Emotionally, she had become four years old again, dazed and confused, surrounded by adults speaking in cruel tones she didn't understand – it was Sabel who found center, braced against the wall of the shuttle, and took the only recourse left to a cornered animal.
Sabel looked the Admiral's holo in the eyes and stuck her lightsaber hilt under her chin. With a thumb on the ignition, she angled it just so, and made her position clear:
"If you wanted us dead, we'd be dead. Let me guess: you want us for some sick experiment? I promise you won't take either of us alive."
The Admiral's smile died. Dao curled further into herself and felt the emptiness in Sabel, and knew in her core that her Master wasn't bluffing; this was a woman prepared to slit Dao's throat and then pierce her own skull to keep either of them from being taken alive.
When Dao remembered the nightmares, the weeping slaves in cold labs, the smell of amniotic fluid and the sound of wires being dragged through skin, she knew why Sabel had such a hard stance; Sabel had seen it all herself. Dao did not blame her.
Dao knew through Sabel's bond that the worst horrors were in life, not death, and forged at the fingertips of man; all true Jedi knew this. Some accepted it more or less than others.
Sabel glanced down at Dao, with that hilt under her chin. Dao nodded, drew her own shoto saber, looked at the Admiral, and made the same threat.
The Admiral's face curdled into contempt, "it's sick what you Jedi do to children."
Dao lifted her chin, "you cannot goad us."
The Admiral pouted, "oh, I can't? Well…"
The shuttle slammed to one side. Sabel and Dao stood fast, this time. Another fighter swooped in, shoving the shuttle and clamping a tow-cable to it. A third fighter shot out the cockpit, the droid sucked screaming into space as bulkheads clamped shut to protect the passenger cabin. Dao and Sabel remained strapped into the walls, sabers at the ready.
Sabel bumped the helmet of her exosuit against Dao's, "there is no death."
Dao held her Master's hand, "there is only the Force."
The Admiral waved them off, "there is only life, Jedi. Death is absolute. So take what you can, give nothing back, and live forever – I can help you with that last part. Don't you girls want to be immortal? I'll make you goddesses, if you just cooperate."
Dao felt pity for him, "do we seem motivated by a thirst for power, to you?"
"No, actually, you two are easily the most stubborn and interesting Jedi I've ever met – like mother, like daughter, yes? Or, maybe she gets it from me, Sabel? That empty, blank face…"
Sabel's lip curled, "don't."
The Admiral smiled, "it's good to know you still have nerves to hit – makes this easy."
"You won't sway me with that disgusting tongue of yours."
"No no, I meant literal nerves, as in the nervous system I intend to fry in… two seconds."
The fighter towing them connected its Nihil power core to the tow-cable and conducted a calculated burst of electricity straight down into the shuttle. Inside, Dao and Sabel were electrocuted with enough force to make Sabel's cybernetics reboot, her insides feel like fire, and her consciousness slip. Dao pushed back with the Force, but was pulled under when the empathic agony of Sabel's cybernetics frying caused her to pass out from shock.
In silence, their ruined shuttle was towed into the capital ship's engineering bay, and the fighters flew back alongside it to fold into the hatches opened up for them. The Admiral's mission was a resounding success.
Chapter 11 - We Breathe Poison
Dao groped at consciousness. The world spun in the opposite direction of her stomach. She puked the acrid fizz of her morning energy drink and it splattered on a plasteel floor, rather than inside the helmet of her exosuit helmet. Someone had stripped her out of it.
Nearby, she saw a pair of inked, greasy men with scatterguns on their hips playing with some silver sticks. Dao's vision sharpened and their bleeding-red auras made the situation clear. She flopped onto her back and tried to determine where she was. There were thick cables running through the walls and electricity everywhere. A ship.
Sabel was nowhere to be seen in that tiny room. She heard one of the men speak, "is she awake?"
"I dunno."
"Go check!"
"You do it!"
Dao lay as still as she could, to buy herself time to think. She heard heavy boots swaggering toward her. A heavy boot prodded her ribs, "you awake, girl?"
Dao could act with immediate violence, but, she wasn't sure who these men were. Her indecision kept her paralyzed on the floor and she swallowed a gush of tears. The man looming over her saw her throat flex, "yeah, she's waking up. Keep a good grip on those toys."
The fellow remaining by the doorway stuck the pair of silver sticks – the shoto lightsabers of Dao and Sabel – into his belt and locked them into place with chain clips.
"Don't get frisky, flower, we're no lunks."
Dao reached out through the bond: Master Sabel!
Through the bond, she felt nothing but cold, wet mist and hazy confusion. Dao was not sure what to make of it, but she knew by the very Force itself Sabel still lived, in some fashion. Was she asleep? Dreaming? Dao didn't know.
Dao tested her wrists and ankles, flexed them, and felt no restraints at all as she lay on the plasteel floor. She glanced at the man near her and saw his heavy boots, his sawed-off scattergun, his mean smile. A decision was made: get information, stall, reach out to Sabel aggressively.
"So," she said, "this is a Nihil ship? It is impressive."
The two had a good chuckle, "yeah? You real blown away by the inside of this cell?"
"Maybe she finds us warm and welcoming!"
The man looming over her crouched down on the balls of his feet, "oh, yeah? You like bad boys with a good streak in 'em, flower?"
Master Sabel! Wake up!
He ran his gloved fingers over her throat. Something inside of her seized up – an animal tensing to fight or flee. Master Sabel. Master Sabel. Mother. Mama.
The haze of Sabel's consciousness split open with a blade of psychic anger: fight, fight, kill, cut, run, kill, spite, fight, KILL, RUN. RUN.
Yes.
There was no reasoning with the terminally cruel.
Dao lifted her hand and gently grasped the man's wrist. He tilted his head, "boss said we could have you for an hour. Don't make this weird…"
Empathy spread from her touch, traveling up his arm and into his heart and brain. A lifetime of pain and callousness chipped away. He was a toddler again, crying in the arms of his dead mother after a raid. He was a young man whipped when he looked left instead of right. He was a raider who took what he could and terrorized the weak because he was free. He was taken into the arms of Dao's gentleness and felt his stubble go hot and wet with tears.
The man's throat choked with a sob and he fell onto his side on the floor. Dao stood up slowly and leveled her flat, eyeless gaze onto the remaining cell guard. He reached for his gun.
Dao shocked her head, "don't."
He stopped when he felt the two chained lightsabers press into his kidneys.
"With a thought," she walked toward him one slow step at a time, "I could do it."
The remaining guard watched a hardened raider sob and claw at himself on the floor, blubbering "why, why mama, why, why… why do we do these things… to each other?"
The remaining guard's scattergun clattered to the floor in surrender. He fell to his knees before her. Dao splayed her long, nimble fingers across his forehead and directed the Force into his mind, "tell me where my datapad is."
"Storage locker in the hall. Code is 6612."
"Thank you," she willed him to fall asleep, and he did.
Dao walked from the cell with two lightsabers in her sash, shrouded from view via the Force. She saw two security cameras in opposite corners of the hallway, and did as she was trained to do; she slipped unseen beneath one, then the other, and tossed her sabers up, igniting and un-igniting in a moment, to snip the servos and force the cameras to stare at a limited corner of the room.
As she did this, she noticed that there was a cold, persistent hardness in her heart she could not explain; it no doubt had something to do with Sabel's influence through the bond. Dao was aware that she was not fully herself, but then again, when was she ever fully herself? When was anyone ever fully themselves?
We are, after all, an expression of the world around us.
"We are, after all, an expression of the world around us."
She looked up and around. By gazing through the ship's walls and monitoring the flow of electrical current, she could deduce the direction of the ship's interior, as well as identify power nodes and fortified thermal breakers.
Kill, run, sabotage, spite. Escape through the fighter bays.
"I am coming to save you, Master Sabel."
NO.
"Yes."
Dao turned toward the flow of the currents, toward the depths of the ship, and picked up her datapad in the locker along the hall. She prodded at the interface to summon Kayatonae's ship, but there was too much signal interference – for all she knew, they were back in hyperspace. If that was the case, then the only thing to do would be to force this ship, somehow, to drop out of the tunnel.
Dao kept close to the edges of the hallways, and whenever she saw a light source, she clenched her fist and forced the bulbs inside to collapse. Shadows spread throughout the ship as she moved inward. Cameras were crippled but remained active. It took the security center a good ten minutes to notice the aberrant images on their readouts in central. A yellow alert lit the corners of the ship that had not yet been sabotaged.
Signs lead Dao toward her destination: Laboratory. Dao felt Sabel's presence growing stronger and saw the power cables hidden in the ceiling getting thicker, the more she followed those signs. She peeked around a blind corner and saw a dozen guards creeping toward her - a dragnet, on full overwatch, with masks and snoopers on. Her Force cloaking wouldn't work.
Dao knew she couldn't put them all to sleep, she was no Master Fen. She could not reason with them all, nor do some mass mind trick. She was just a padawan, and a mediocre one at that, whose training was in subterfuge and…
Stop hesitating.
Sabel's instincts took over Dao's. She eyed the angle, the placement of their necks, and lit both of the ghostfire sabers. As silent, whirling mirages they whipped around the corner. Skulls were lopped in half, heads removed from necks, and eyes pierced through. When the sparks were done flying, the sabers returned to her hands, and she walked through a hallway strewn with ruined bodies. Dao's hands trembled. The corpses were warm around her feet.
"They were all children, once…"
If you are going to come to me, come as a demon, not a delicate little girl.
"Yes, Master Sabel."
It's in the pit of your gut; a cold kernel of viciousness.
"That is not the Jedi way."
It is when drowning in a sea of evil.
"No."
When the planet you walk on is toxic, you must breathe poison.
"No…"
I –
Dao screamed and fell to her knees from empathic agony. Something was happening to Sabel and it felt like a trillion biting insects boring under the skin.
And then, all at once, it stopped.
Master Sabel?!
Nothing.
Dao felt a sense of horrible urgency. She ran straight ahead, toward the Laboratory, without a care, without a thought, and burst through the doors. She was greeted by a wave of electrocuting ions, fired by a wall of prepped ship troopers whose sole order was to watch the doorway. The Admiral had a very good laugh as Dao collapsed under a hail of tasers.
"Two for the price of one!"
As Dao lay on her back, her nerves screaming in pain once again, she remembered the winds of Alpherides, and the way they sang. She remembered bitter tea and her true-mother's kind hugs. She remembered her brothers and the lichen trees she climbed with them. She remembered Sabel's upside-down body being raised into the air by cables and wires.
No. That was now, wasn't it.
"You know," the Admiral began, as he stepped over Dao and gently plucked both lightsabers from her belt, "I really thought you were going to dash to the escape pods or the fighter bays and make a daring escape, so I could give chase in another few years and have a good time again – do you have ANY idea how boring it is when your quarry just walks right into the dumbest trap imaginable and lays down to die?!"
He tossed Sabel's lightsaber to one of his guards, who tossed it to some of the lab technicians working the terminals near The Pod.
Dao saw The Pod, the strange, giant egg with the glowing interior, where all the currents of electricity and data merged from the walls of the room. Whatever it was, it was the beating heart of the ship, outside of wherever the reactor was. She tried to move, but her arms spasmed and didn't know how to listen to her brain anymore.
She scolded him with her most withering condemnation: "hnnng… rk?"
The Admiral glanced at his men. Everyone had a good laugh. It was the nicest day the Nihil of Admiral Nemo's TekFleet had enjoyed in a long time.
Sabel slipped in and out of focus. Every time they electrocuted Dao for fun, she felt the haze dampening her consciousness clear. Below her, scientists in the terminal pools chattered:
"Amniotic reservoir is full and The Pod is ready for the subject."
"Her vitals are spiking, increase the dose –"
The pain of Dao's electrocution woke her just enough that she could reach out with the Force and pluck tubing from her one organic arm, cutting off the flow of drugs.
The scientists were too distracted by the terminal screens to notice, "is that weapon of hers ready? It's a key, but…"
"He said her will is broken, all we can do is stick it into the chamber and wait for everything to take – if she's going to be a ship, she has to have no other option."
"Should have amputated the rest of her limbs."
"If this doesn't work, that's the next step."
If I'm going to be a ship…?
Sabel's head lolled toward The Pod and as the crane slid her over it, the thing parted open like a soft, reptilian egg. Inside was a pool of liquid that reeked of medicine, and in that pool of liquid was a suite of ports and squirming wires. Everything about this technology felt vile, unnatural, and worst of all, it called to her, somehow, through the Force.
It compelled her to submit, to crawl inside of it, to let it become her.
Wherever the Nihil found this technology, it was a place long-since forbidden or forgotten by the Jedi Order. Whatever the Nihil hoped to do with this technology, it would inevitably corrupt them. Whatever the Nihil thought this technology could do for them, they were like children playing bandits with live blaster cells.
Dao's spine arched, her mouth frothed, and tears streamed down her cheeks as they rammed her legs and torso with bantha prods for fun. The pain was a focus.
The pain was her teacher.
The rage was her weapon.
The passion was her fuel.
The medicinal water in The Pod below rippled gently as if to agree.
Children
It spoke through her mind, a thousand voices – male, female, alien. They are children.
But Dao is my child.
Yes. Dao is your blood.
Dao is my blood.
You could be a goddess.
The Pod's pools rippled. The surface was like a mirror, then, and Sabel saw the silhouette of an alien face with two glowing eyes on stalks on either side of a long, narrow head. This creature was evil, she knew it, and something that belonged in a forgotten and savage era. But this creature, in this moment, was right: what was more righteous and pure in nature than a mother defending its young?
Nothing more righteous. Nothing more pure. Sabel listed back out of consciousness like a ship rolling on a windy sea, and in that blackness she saw the alien figure, heard more promises.
The Admiral wiped a tear of laughter from his eye, "ahhhh, ha… ha, okay, okay. Alright, that's enough, gang, she's just a little thing, after all."
Dao wheezed on the floor, her limbs twitching, her vision spinning; only by the grace of the Force was she not taken under. No, she had to save Sabel, she willed it to be so. But there were so many cruel, laughing figures around her. He was right: I'm just a little thing.
The Admiral steepled his fingers and kept his attention on Dao, "well, lads. Did you know this is my daughter?"
The crew hemmed, hawed, took a few steps back from Dao, all savvy enough to be concerned the Admiral had just baited them into punishment. But the Admiral waved it off, "don't be shy, now! Who knows how many I have – this is the first one to ever crawl back to my feet, though. Just goes to show you what happens when you lay with crazy."
The crew lightened up with a good laugh. One shouted out: "mark her!"
The Admiral snapped his fingers, "fabulous idea. Let's make some art."
The brands lit; sharp metal hooks with batteries attached, whose tips glowed orange. Several Nihil ripped Dao's robes off and left her in her underwear. She reached out into the Force, tried to find some sliver of will left in her, and made one last gambit.
"This is all a misunderstanding," she spoke through the Force, reached into every mind around her, "give me my clothes, and let me go."
Every member of the crew stopped. A few murmured the words back to her. The Admiral himself shook his head and gritted his teeth, "no, no, no, no little flower, that's not…" An implant in the Admiral's skull beeped, then zapped him with electricity, dispelling the mind trick. With a dark, I'm-going-to-strangle-you-sweetly smile, he plucked a datapad from his belt, beeped in a few commands, and selected the crew around him. They all gurgled as the shock collars inside their armor zapped them back to life.
Dao didn't have anything left in her. The last of her strength had gone into that mass mind trick, the first she'd ever done, and she could at least be proud that she'd done it at all.
The Admiral walked over her. The glowing brands closed in. He knelt down by her side and caressed her cheek and she felt her skin crawl, "that will cost you, flower."
He stood up again and walked away, "mark her."
The first brand hit her thigh and sizzled her skin audibly. Dao screamed like an animal, screamed through the kind of pain that eclipsed even the electrocutions.
The pain was Sabel's teacher. It woke her fully.
Below Sabel the scientists fumbled with her lightsaber, sticking it into some manner of ancient relic connected to The Pod by long cables.
"How the blazes is this thing supposed to turn on?!"
"I think the subject has to turn it on."
"She listens to Admiral Nemo, right?"
"I mean, she should – let's just wait until he's–"
The lightsaber ripped from the keyhole and flew into the air, coming alive and slicing away every cable, restraint, and wire holding Sabel in the air. She fell on top of one of the scientists, her knees and feet ramming his face straight into the hard edge of a computer terminal; she felt his nose collapse into his skull.
The second scientist drew his scattergun. Sabel clenched her fist into the air. The second scientist's throat crunched shut like an empty energy drink can. Admiral Nemo had turned from Dao's branding ceremony just in time to see Sabel's murder of his scientists.
He grinned, "just in time for the–"
Sabel roared. It was not a woman's roar. The fury of every blood ancestor in her body rose through the void to drive an ancestral hatred straight through the Force and into Nemo's body. The roar, to the crew, to Dao, to everyone, sounded like a mother rancor. It rattled the glass in the lab, it caused the lights to flicker.
The sound shattered every bone in Admiral Nemo's body. He fell to his knees, fractured, ruptured, bleeding to death on the inside. Blood poured from his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Sabel felt their hands on hers, felt the cold anguish of fallen mothers. She remembered her mother – Dao's grandmother – how she'd died so long ago, shrouded in darkness, in mystery, a lone witch on the edge of the galaxy, misunderstood, hunted, like all before her.
She remembered how the Jedi hunted her mother.
How the Nihil enslaved her friends.
How the cruel tortured the innocent.
How the galaxy needed to burn.
Dao clutched her wadded robes to her chest, found her lightsaber, and crawled toward the edge of the lab. In her sight, what lay ahead of her was not red, not gold, not black – it was the most terrifying Force phenomenon of all. It was emptiness.
Sabel had become a black hole. The red aura of Nemo was a little nebula slowly disintegrating into Sabel's event horizon. The crew were mesmerized, wandering toward her, and falling to their knees and foreheads on the floor before her. They only hoped to be spared by the goddess being birthed before their very eyes.
Admiral Nemo's body was little more than a bag of blood and splintered bone. He died within moments, falling face-first before Sabel, bowing in death.
Dao found her footing and edged toward the door. Through their empathic bond, everything was mercifully quiet. And then the Eyes fell upon her.
Dao saw them all. The dozens of ancient beings hovering as ghosts around the black hole that was Sabel. They, too, had empty auras. All of them spoke to her, Sabel's voice, too:
The Force is a song.
If the song moves through a twisted vessel, it becomes dissonant.
The galaxy is a vessel.
Your body is a vessel.
Hammer the body with pain, suffering…
… the song of the Force changes.
The Force is a song.
Whether it is beautiful and kind depends on you.
Depends on us all.
Sometimes the vessel is bent too far.
Sometimes the galaxy is too wicked.
Sometimes, fire must come.
Sometimes, the vessel must be scalded into shape.
Dao had that same feeling she'd had on Ilum, when she stared down into the abyss below. In that moment, she'd chosen to trust her instincts, and dance across the pillars.
And in this moment, daughter, you have a similar choice.
Dance.
Or die.
Sabel's consciousness rose among the others, most alive, and most forceful. Sabel saw her as a figure of ghostly light and smoke, hovering in the dark above The Pod. Sabel pulled the other figures inside of herself, "no," she said aloud.
Dao pulled on her robes as best she could, then lit her lightsaber and edged closer to the door of the lab, "you can come with me, Master Sabel. The Council can help you… please."
"The Council will hunt me to the edge of the galaxy."
"No, Master Sabel, they will help you fight… whatever this is, that's always been inside of you, I see it now, I see the fight you've been hiding."
Sabel raised a finger and pointed at Dao, the posture in that moment reminding the girl of the scarecrows she saw hung in the fields of Alpherides. Sabel's head lolled to one side, "it is inside of you, too. This, and worse."
Dao remembered Master Z and smiled, "heh. Maybe."
"If I release you, Dao, they will use you to find me. We are bonded."
"Maybe."
Sabel walked toward Dao. The crew remained riveted to the floor. One dared to look up, and for his trouble, his neck was snapped by the Force. Sabel's foot crunched the remains of Nemo's torso as she bridged the gap between herself and her daughter.
Dao lifted her chin in defiance, even as her lightsaber trembled in her grip, "Master…"
"I am your MOTHER."
"... only by chance, not by love, right?"
"You're a wise girl, Dao. I trust you will do what the Force wills, in the end."
Dao inched closer to the door, "then listen to me now… come with me." Dao killed her lightsaber and reached out with her empty hand.
Sabel stared at the hand. The shadows around her hissed and writhed like serpents. Dao felt sweat trickling down her forehead, even though she shivered from the sudden chill around her. Sabel lifted her cybernetic fingers and brushed them across Dao's palm. Dao clasped her hand and then felt burning pain.
"When cold is cold enough," Sabel exhaled fog as she gripped Dao's hand, "it burns."
Dao choked through what felt like some icy worm driving into her palm, "please stop…"
Sabel squeezed harder, "when fire is hot enough, it numbs."
Dao fell to her knees from the pain, as that icy, burning feeling slid down the tendons in her forearm and into her elbow, "what… what is this… mother, please stop, please…"
Sabel snapped her hand back. Dao felt the burn in her arm turn to numbness. She gripped her wrist and stared into her palm, and saw the tail-end of some strange, squirming black wire burrowing down inside of her like a tapeworm, before burning the incision site shut.
That, beyond the pain of anything else that day, had proven too much. The gut-churning horror of it sent her world turning, and Dao fell over into merciful unconsciousness.
Chapter 12 - Brunt's Bastards
2 Months Later
Dimple ground the barrel of his scattergun into the man's head, "you think it delicious, to eat monkey-lizard meat, eh?! EH?!"
The man was half-shaven and dirty. He held his quaking hands up, "no! NO!"
Dimple seemed to relax for a moment. He glanced toward the poor monkey-lizard spitted over the camp's fire, then back at the man. His eye twitched, "so you think monkey lizard disgusting?!"
"A little bit, yeah!"
"AAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
A voice bellowed over the monkey-lizard's shrieking, "DIMPLE!"
"WHAT?!"
A towering Gammorrean man in sweeping, brown robes strode into the center of the camp, "put the gun down."
"Brunt?!"
"Put it down and let's talk."
"Ohhhh-hohoho," Dimple clicked back the hammer on his scattergun. The man he held hostage whimpered.
"Hohohohooooo," Dimple climbed up on top of the man's shoulders and kept the gun to his hostage's temple, while he faced Brunt fully, "you think you can tell me what to do?!"
"No, Dimple."
"You think you better than me, because you become big important Jedi?!"
"No, Dimple."
"You think Dimple STUPID because he failed trials?!"
"No, Dimple, I think you're too smart."
Dimple's grip loosened, "... what?"
"You failed because you're too smart, Dimple."
"You mocking?!"
"Nope," Brunt took a step closer, but didn't move past the firepit. A cold wind swept in across the Rattatak desert, rustling his robes, "being a Jedi would have just pissed you off, Dimps. Look at you now, you've got your freedom, your gadgets, your gun… you let him go and we can talk."
"Talk about WHAT," Dimple wrenched his claws into the man's hair and pulled his head to the side to press the scattergun harder into his cheek, "talk about how Dimple a failed joke, a too smart monkey-lizard with no friends, in a galaxy that wants to eat him?!"
"We'll talk about you coming to work with me, and all the others from Rat Clan."
"Rat Clan not real! Rat Clan a dream! You the only one who made it!"
"Being a Jedi isn't the be-all, end-all, Dimple, how long are you going to keep feeling sorry for yourself and making a mess?"
Dimple grinned, slow and vicious, claw on the trigger, "Dimple likes a mess."
The hostage shed tears, "please help me."
Dimple squeezed the trigger, anticipating a glorious spray of righteous violence. But his finger was paralyzed – his whole arm, his whole body was paralyzed! Dimple floated into the air, scattergun separating from his hand, then disassembling itself into its component parts and falling one at a time into the sand.
The weeping man rose and scooped up his bag, running out of camp and out into the open desert, "I was just hungry!"
Floating head over heels, Dimple spat, swore, and thrashed, "stupid Brunt, mean Brunt! You–" he noticed that Brunt was standing still, thumbs in his sash, doing nothing to suggest he was the one projecting the Force. The air near him shimmered, and into view stepped Oren, hair as long and red as ever, eyes just as black as when they were kids.
Dimple stammered, "b-but… Oren…? You…"
"I became a Shadow, Dimple, just like Dao."
Dimple felt his bitter little heart lighten up for the first time in years, "Dao here too?!"
"No." Oren released Dimple, the little monkey-lizard tumbling onto his feet.
Brunt picked up the dead monkey-lizard on the spit and, in different company, would have eaten it right then and there. But out of respect for a childhood companion, he tossed the monkey-lizard carcass into the sand and began burying it, "Dao is gone."
Dimple plopped down into the sand and began the task of cleaning his scattergun parts and putting them back together, "Dao… dead?"
Brunt and Oren shared a look. Oren crossed her arms and fell silent. Brunt finished burying the monkey-lizard and stood up, "no, not dead. But something really bad."
"The Force?"
Brunt tapped his skull and nodded, "yeah. Me and Oren felt it."
"What Dimple got to do with it?"
Brunt paced with his hands on his hips, "the Council won't tell us anything, but we know something is wrong. Master Fen told me she can't speak of it."
Oren turned to watch the sunset by the fire, "Master Brijet said much the same."
Dimple clicked scattergun parts together, "so, nothing to be done. Jedi must obey."
Brunt shook his head, "no, Dimple, Jedi must look between the lines and use their wisdom – Master Fen, she cleared all of my assignments, all of my calendar. She keeps telling me she's there if I need counsel."
Oren twirled her lightsaber hilt over long fingers, "Master Brijet did the same."
Dimple cocked his newly-assembled scattergun, admired the kill marks on the stock, and polished the chrome with his spit rag, "so, what? Dimple has bounty hunter business."
"What's your price?"
Dimple eyed Brunt, "Dimple don't need Jedi pity money."
"The Order uses contractors all the time for off-the-books stuff like this."
"Dimple not interested," the monkey lizard holstered his scattergun and primed his little jetpack, "so you Jedi can keep your stupid credits!"
Oren threw a credit chit at Dimple. He examined the readout and coughed, "Dimple very happy to offer services to generous Jedi Order as private contractor."
Oren grinned, "let's get going, then, time is a factor."
Brunt pulled his datapad from his backpack pouch, swiped a few commands. With a beep, a boop, and a click, he summoned the sound of distant thrusters – a landspeeder skidded toward them across the dunes.
Brunt smiled, showing off his big tusks, "getting the gang back together."
Dimple leapt into the air and boosted his jetpack to land ont Brunt's shoulders. He stood up on them and pointed to the horizon, "you let me shoot from up here?!"
"I'd be deaf in an hour, no!"
"It will be our secret battle formation – the way is clear! Plenty of wax in big, floppy Gamorrean ears, what you worried about, eh?!"
The landspeeder got close enough that the souped-up engines drowned out conversation.
Oren vaulted into the backseat of the landspeeder as it curved to a stop. Brunt sat down next to the driver, a hooded woman with teal skin and geometric face tattoos just visible behind the cloth she wore over her mouth and nose. She looked over at Brunt, "seatbelt, please."
Brunt grabbed the seatbelt and strained to click it in place over his thick torso, "it doesn't fit, I told you already!"
"Well… try again?"
"I can't!"
Tzentchen reached over and grabbed the seatbelt, pulling down hard and forcing Brunt to suck in his gut. The Gamorrean wheezed and complained, but he was fastened in. Tzentchen swatted Dimple into the backseat, and the monkey-lizard scrambled to put his seatblet on, despite it being enormous around him.
Dimple stared ahead with wide eyes, "she scares Dimple."
Oren kept her seatbelt tightened, "wait until you see her drive."
The landspeeder whirled around in circles, kicking up sand and rocks, before gunning it on modded thrusters to pick up far too much air than was legally allowed on most Republic worlds – but this wasn't a Republic world, and Tzentchen was having fun.
"One hour to the LZ," she reminded as they sped across the sand sea, "assuming we don't get waylaid by Rattataki ne'er do wells again."
An hour later, on Coruscant, former Senator Kayatonae was finishing up the lines on her eye makeup and working with her publicist's team to ensure her foundation wasn't too glowy. Her holocomms lit up with a call from Tzentchen, which auto-accepted:
"Mam, the third rat is in the nest."
Kayatonae adjusted her blond updo in a hand mirror while two attendants worked on her foundation, "wonderful, take them to the main fleet."
"Technically it's more of a convoy, mam."
"Don't sass me, you little preem."
"You told me to sass as necessary, mam."
"And I reserve the right to complain," she shooed her makeup artists off and turned to face the holocall, "how do I look?"
"Positively presidential, mam. Are you sure you want to do this?"
"What else am I going to do with my life, Tzentchen?"
Tzentchen's smile remained despite the sadness in her eyes, "be happy. With me."
Kayatonae sighed, rolling her eyes back into her head halfway, "I can still do that–"
"- after you know the Republic is safe, I know."
"We'll have our time. I promise."
"I believe you, Kaya. See you at the… uh, fleet."
The call ended, leaving Kaya with a bittersweet taste in her mouth. She snapped her fingers, "mint gum, please, let's go people, we have a whole damned Republic to save!"
She turned in her seat to face the cameras. The lights came on. The timer started.
Kayatonae exhaled slowly, centered herself, and then looked into camera one as her producer counted down to zero.
"People of the Great Galactic Republic…"
The broadcast was spread viral across the HoloNet within hours. This was a problem.
The Senate, which was in recess, was abuzz through holocalls and private outrage. It had apparently not been enough to maneuver that old war hawk Kayataonae into resignation; they should have known she could do just as much, if not more damage to the public as a private citizen. There were a few of the old guard left in their core world seats, but by now the senate was so overwhelmingly anti-military they didn't dare publicly support the broadcast.
It was just as well; they didn't need to. Kayatonae's projects only needed their tacit support to function. But even for the most staunch of them, this latest stunt may have been a bit too much. Even the Jedi Council got wind of it, in their gilded halls.
Master Fen listened to the broadcast again in her office, as she prepared a mix of eggshells and tea to steep overnight for her plants. Kayatonae's voice played for the second time that evening:
"People of the Great Galactic Republic… I speak to you now in an era of unprecedented civil liberty and peace. Under the watchful eyes of the Jedi, we have prospered! While the Republic focuses on public works, the Jedi form a stewardship we cannot ever hope to replace with a conventional military. Through the Force, they are a panopticon of miraculous wisdom and martial prowess - truly incredible. If there ever were a better team in the history of this galaxy, I've seen no record of it. Be proud, people of the Republic, for you're part of what might be, well… the beginning of true pan-galactic peace."
Master Fen poured steaming water over the eggshells and tea pods, "if only."
"But they say the price of peace is eternal vigilance. And isn't this obvious? We are expansive, wealthy, and beautiful. All of the galaxy that suffers outside of our society looks at us with jealousy, maybe an eagerness to integrate eventually, sure, but how much of the Outer Rim sees us and thinks, 'just wait. They'll get too comfortable eventually.' It's something we're seeing more and more on the lanes – hyperdiction. Ships that don't act the way ships should. Pirates with tech that make our best look pedestrian. You think the Jedi are going to save you from a navy? Great warriors or not, a ship is a ship, and not even a Jedi survives the void of space once their fighter is dusted."
Master Fen sighed and settled back into her seat.
"You need a navy to fight a navy and ours has been neutered. We've lost decades of funding for live-fire exercises and war games, readiness drills… all because the Outer Rim has been playing it quiet for a while. And now, what few ships we have can't keep up. The Jedi cannot save you from getting stopped on the lanes, tagged, bagged, and shuttled into a slaver ship to who-knows-what-fate. They might see it coming. But where's their navy?"
Master Fen stared at the steam wisping from the bowl in front of her.
The recording wound down, with the lights in Kayatonae's studio dimming to match the severity of her tone, "when I served the Republic as a Senator, my efforts to keep our navy in fighting shape were fought at every turn. I know too well the kind of factionalism and bureaucratic dogpiling that goes on in the wheels of big government. I believe very much in our institutions. But your current Senate would rather exploit the Jedi's sense of duty, would rather lean on their compassion, rather than truly support them. We have become cowards hiding behind those sworn by an ancient faith to protect us."
Master Fen gently stirred the broth on her desk, "you said it, not me."
Kayatonae's speech wound down, "and as for myself? As for you? As private citizens, we're free to fight in any conflict we choose so long as it serves the defense of the Republic. So if you have a vessel and want to do your part, join the Responders – help bridge the gap between Senatorial red tape and Jedi kindness. See you on the lanes."
Master Fen paused the holo and stood up to pace around her office amongst the greenery and wisping steam from the bowl. In the last frame of the holo, Kayatonae stood with her winning smile and a pilot's helmet in the crook of her arm, looking as dashing as ever. Fen splayed her fingers across her desk and leaned into them, stretching out the mild stiffness she got whenever the weather was too cold.
The holo shut off. A call came through, with Padawan Brunt's signature. Fen accepted it.
"Brunt."
"Master Fen," he bowed deeply into the holo, "I seek counsel."
"Proceed."
"I am aligning myself with the efforts of former Senator Kayatonae to create a private militia in response to the Nihil threat. To that end, I have formed a small team of… irregulars."
In the background, as if on cue, there was an electrical blast and the sound of Dimple cackling, and others screaming to run for cover. Brunt sighed, but was smiling, "understand?"
"Yes. What counsel do you seek?"
"We need one last piece. A great warrior I can fight side-by-side with to drive our team forward in the interior of a ship – do you know of someone who might join us?"
"None that can know of what you do, no. The knights of the Order are preoccupied with the raids on the fringe worlds, and wouldn't be pleased to do something sneaky."
"What about the Shadows?"
Fen lowered her gaze toward the tea and eggshell soup, "I fear my relationship with Brijet and her Shadows has been strained by recent events."
"I see. But, may Oren still…?"
"Oren will do as she pleases, I'm sure, but with the loss–"
"Capture, Master Fen."
"Yes, the capture of Shadows Sabel and Dao, Master Brijet is consolidating her operations and shifting her focus to other matters."
Brunt's jaw clenched, "Master Brijet is not preparing her own extraction efforts? I thought she was supporting us."
"Master Brijet's attention, like the knights, has been drawn entirely to the raids on the fringe worlds. We have to project the bulk of our official support to the most eminent and visible threats to the Republic, and the Knights operate poorly without Shadow support."
Brunt's meaty hands were folded neatly behind his back, which is why he was able to hide the trembling of his clenched fists, "I see. Then I will gather whatever I can, and not trouble you with the details."
"See that you do. You asked for my counsel, here it is: spare no expense. Money is easy for me to gift to you. Keep your official reports vague. Report to Kayatonae for intelligence on their last known movements on Mek Sha, then go from there. If you seek a great warrior – one of the greatest the Order has ever produced – then you will find him on Mek Sha."
"Him, Master?"
"I cannot tell you more. The Force will guide you to him. I only hope that it does not guide him to you, first."
Brunt felt a disquieting chill along his spine and felt his master's discomfort. He bowed, "I think I understand, Master Fen, but I did come to you for one more piece of specific counsel."
"Make it swift."
"My team wants a name."
"... what?"
"They want a name, something to call our squad."
Master Fen was annoyed, but then the annoyance flowed into amusement, and she laughed, "I have a name for you – Brunt's Bastards."
Brunt punched his giant fist into his giant palm and bowed, "I do not like it."
"You have your suggestion, take it or leave it."
"I will consider your suggestion carefully. I must attend to my duties."
"Then go."
Master Fen terminated the call. She drew foil from under her desk and slid it over the steaming bowl so that it would steep overnight. Her plants needed to grow, and she wanted to see if she could get their vines crawling from the walls and across the floor by the end of the year. In times like these, focusing on small victories was the best way to keep despair at bay.
There was a hard knock on her office door; the distinct sound of wood against wood.
Master Yoda.
"Come in."
He popped in, green ears leading, click-clacking up the middle of her office and noted the frozen holo of Kayatonae. He Ipinched one of the overgrown vines hanging from her cabinets, "mm… the living Force comforts you, does it not?"
"It does," she rose from her desk and knelt down on the meditation carpet next to it, though her head hung with weariness, and for whatever reason she found it difficult to look at him, "and I know what you'll say."
"Do you?"
"'You have swaddled yourself in what comforts you, because you despair.'"
Yoda laughed, "close enough, that is. Too direct, maybe, but close enough."
"I've just needed time to center myself."
"Center?" Yoda pointed at the holo with his cane, "or replay omens of doom, again and again? Opposite of centering, that seems to be. Spiral of suffering, that is."
Master Fen terminated the holo and bowed, "help me find center, Master Yoda."
"Easily! Yellow leaves need clipping," Master Yoda plucked a yellowing leaf from one of the otherwise green vines, "fear not the blade that shortens suffering."
Master Fen looked up at him. Immediately, she thought of her mighty padawan, Brunt, and his own unique take on the Jedi way. She smiled at Master Yoda, "I see."
"Many forms, mercy takes, Master Fen. Knows this, your student does. Do you?"
She bowed. Master Yoda returned the bow, and walked out of the office, keeping the yellow leaf for himself. As for Master Fen, her thoughts turned to Dao. She wondered if it would have been merciful to cut the cord, to snip that Force bond, and see the two cut off from one another and their own connection to the Force forever.
Perhaps if she had been more cold and severe on that fateful day in the Council chambers, all of this suffering might have been avoided. She turned the holo back on, to replay Kayatonae's call to arms one last time.
Chapter 13 - Slow Down
"Easy, there, Tok," Chok rushed put a hand on the Rodian's shoulder, "you've only been out of the tank for an hour."
Tok shrugged him off and limped on his cane toward the edge of the medical district's main thoroughfare, "I can still smell that nasty fish-medicine stink."
Chok came up to stand beside him, "I don't need you pushing it too hard and breaking one of those delicate, Rodian bones of yours." He held one of the hot caf cups in his hands to Tok. Tok took it and sipped, leaning heavily on his cane.
"Ugh, where's the sugar?"
"Doc said you can't have sugar for a week."
"Truly, we are in a perilous line of work," said Tok, pouring the caf out on the street, "did we get a bigger fee, at least?"
"The damned Jedi lowballed us, you know how it is."
"Like they need the creds, with that Republic money hose."
Chok sipped his caf and took Tok's empty cup from him, tossing it into a street bin. Their taxi pulled out of a lane of traffic and opened its doors. Tok took a moment to toss his cane inside and then squeeze into the backseat. Choke came right behind.
The driver leaned back, "where to?"
"The lower decks."
"Anything past the Scumline is double fare."
Chok lit a deathstick in the backseat. "Going way below that; the Non-Docks."
The driver cracked Chok's window for him, licked his own teeth, and glanced down at the lower lanes of traffic. He then clicked his fare meter off, "paper only, triple fare."
Chok blew smoke through the crack in the window. Tok rapped his cane against the driver's backseat.
In an hour of steep diving, they finally hit the Scumline. The Scumline itself was exactly what it sounded like: a point on the skyscrapers where mineral streaks and algae collected. Everything above it was under the care of Mek Sha's tourism combine and kept clean. Everything below the Scumline was ignored.
They stepped out onto a moldy dock. The fog on the Lower Decks was so thick they could barely see the neon across the street. Tok fished a wad of paper credits from his suit pocket and tossed it through the driver's window. The driver flipped through the big bills, checking for authenticity bands, and had no complaints.
Chok rapped the top of the taxi, "this stays in the fog, yeah?"
The driver shoved the wad of bills into his pants and grunted, "yeah."
The taxi lifted off, leaving Chok and Tok to go about their business. And go about it they did, as they walked down the nearest alleyway marked by the familiar, colorful graffiti of the Mato Syndicate. They navigated a maze of slimy power cables and vermin. Soon, they stood before a rusted doorway with graffiti surrounding it.
A slat in the door screeched open, revealing a pair of red-lensed eyes. The voice was deep, modulated by mechanical static, "you got credentials, fellas?"
Chok held up his hand to the slat, "quit playing and let us in, kid."
"How do I know it's really you?"
"By the fact that I put up with your games without sticking a scattergun in your face."
The eyes clicked. The slat screeched shut.
Tok rapped his cane on the door, "let's go, you little chits, time is a kriffin' factor here!"
The door jerked, but didn't open. The modulated voice inside grunted and heaved, "I can't… Brunt, help!"
Chok rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sighed, "voidmother's tits…"
The door groaned open, revealing a fridge-sized Gammorrean in Jedi robes and a short, tiny figure in a red-lensed trooper helmet beside him. Dimple took off the trooper helmet and grinned. Brunt stepped aside, "come on."
Chok and Tok strolled past them. Tok adjusted the collar of his suit, "alright, kids, let's get you in that ship of yours. You know you're damned lucky the Syndicate has an eye for quality and the hands to capitalize on opportunities."
Chok forced open the sticky door to the Non-Docks freight office, so Tok could stroll through uninterrupted. "You see," Tok continued, as he leaned over a blocky computer terminal, "there ain't no such thing as luck, children. There's only preparation multiplied by time."
Oren materialized out of the shadows next to him. Tok slowly turned to look at her, then back at Chok, then back at her. "Neat trick."
Oren smirked, "thanks."
"You're standing on my power cord, invisi-girl, would you be a doll and plug it in?"
Oren bent down and hesitated when she noticed the cord was thick with scum and being chewed on by a few bugs. She forced herself to grab it and shove it in the wall.
Dimple climbed up on top of the old terminal, "this is… a… what is this?" Dimple scraped grime off the side of the computer, read the faded text, "weeeeeird…"
Tok poked a few keys on the ancient keyboard, "oh, you ain't seen a thing yet."
Dimple took a picture of the strange computer label with his datapad. Chok swiped the pad. Dimple shrieked at him. Chok deleted the photo, "no pics." Dimple caught the datapad when it was tossed back, "tell me what this is! Old Republic tech?! Ancient alien machine?!"
Chok flicked Dimple's ear, "slow down, kid."
Dimple hissed at him.
Brunt raised an eyebrow, "where'd you read about that stuff, Dimple?"
"Dimple knows lots you don't know, Jedi! Dimple is a free being!"
Tok click-clacked a command into the computer. An alarm bass-boosted through the walls, rattling dust to the floor. Tok gestured to the grimy window, "well, there it is."
Brunt used the skirt of his robes to wipe the window partly clean. They al looked down into an enormous dry dock. The floor of it opened up slowly. Deep gears and rails primed through the walls like some synthetic heartbeat. The bright, white curves of the senator's prototype ship rose through the open floor.
"So," Brunt marched ahead, shouldering a sticky door open to a long stairwell, "why'd you all bring it down here? Seems like a lot of trouble."
Tok hobbled along behind the group, "I said SLOW DOWN, damn it!"
Chok fell back to help his partner, while Oren and Brunt halted in the stairwell. Brunt looked around, "where's Dimple?"
Dimple's voice HA-WOOOOED through the stairwell. Brunt looked down to see the monkey-lizard sliding along the railing in a spiral to the bottom.
Oren grimaced, "he's going to throw up after that."
Brunt nodded, "yes."
The group got to the dry docks after a few minutes descent. They found Dimple laying face down on the filthy floor, groaning.
"Dimple made a mistake…"
Oren threw him over her shoulder like a sack of starch, "there, there, little idiot."
"Dimple not idiot – AM IDIOT SAVANT."
"As long as you know you're an idiot.'
Brunt stood under the shadow of the sleek ship with his thumbs in his sash. Through the Force, he reached out to see what his gut told him.
Chok and Tok joined him. Tok poked the underbelly of the ship with his cane, "I wish we could sell this damned thing, we'd make enough to buy a decommissioned dreadnought."
"I thought you gave up on the derelict dreadnaught casino idea."
"DreadSlots will be the crown jewel of my achievements one day."
Brunt walked around the side, to where the staircase to the ship's interior sat unfolded. He called back to the two Syndicate men, "you didn't answer my question earlier."
They caught up to him, Oren and Dimple, too. Chok stared up into the dark interior of the ship at the top of the staircase, "yeah, uh… well, it's kind of a weird story."
Brunt was already walking up the staircase, and as he did, his gut told him something loud and clear: don't go in there.
Brunt stopped his ascent and looked back at Chok, "weird how?"
Chok rubbed the back of his head, lit a deathstick for his nerves, and refused to look at the open door of the ship. He exhaled his response with a plume of smoke, "ship's haunted."
Oren and Dimple also didn't walk up the stairs. Oren saw Brunt had that stubborn knit to his brow, though. "Be careful," she said, "I feel it too."
Brunt took a few more steps toward the doorway. The sense of the thing was less like a door to a ship and more a portal to a realm of despair and cold. Then Brunt snapped his head back, "wait, what do you mean haunted?"
Chok sucked back the ash on his deathstick, coughed a little, "uh, well, where do I start? Kayatonae just left the thing in the docks – this thing, right here, yeah? This multi-billion-credit machine, like she was forgetting her datapad at a bar."
"That is strange, yes. But it doesn't explain the 'haunted' aspect."
"I'm getting to that – so we figure, hey, maybe she left us a gift. We get our folks up here to fly it up to Mato Station, but anybody who walks in don't walk out."
"... there's bodies in there?"
Chok shrugged, "maybe? We stopped sending anybody in after the third crew vanished."
"Then how'd it get down here?"
"Once the thing started talking to Mek Sha flight control and other ships, it had to be towed out and put someplace else."
Dimple trembled on Oren's shoulders, "wait – talking to flight control? Other ships?! Talking how, like, like, like a transmission? Intelligent code?! MACHINE LANGUAGE?!"
Chok flicked his deathstick down and ground it with his boot, "not my purview, kid."
Tok smacked the railing of the staircase, "story time over! Time for the bottom line!"
Brunt glanced at Oren. She nodded, reached into her robes and pulled out her datapad. She stuck a blank credit chit into it and primed a transfer. The reception was poor, so she wandered around to find a better signal, "hard to get a connection down here, hold on."
Tok groaned, "you didn't fill the chit before going below the Scumline?! You all ever even been to Mek Sha?!"
Brunt walked back down the staircase, "no, we haven't."
Their voices echoed in the hangar. On the fringes of it, where the shadows were deepest, someone watched the group. They moved between crates and cover, and had gone unnoticed. Oren wandered from the group quite a bit in search of a signal. Brunt was being interrogated by Tok on the particulars of Mek Sha life. Chok lit another deathstick and kept a wary eye on the ship. It was Dimple who got a bad feeling first, and because of that, he had the wherewithal to pull his goggles on and click on the snoopers.
Oren finally found a signal, toward the far corner of the hangar. She punched in their fee, plus tip, and waited as the transfer finished draining into the chit. She pulled the chit from the datapad and called back to the others, "got it!"
Dimple saw movement behind Oren. Dimple whipped his longrifle from his shoulder and primed a magnetic shot straight toward Oren. "DUCK!"
Oren was very confused when Dimple pointed that little railgun at her, but the Force spoke to her in those crucial milliseconds, and it said "MOVE." Oren, caught in the open, could only throw herself to the side and toward the ground.
It wouldn't be enough. The thing bearing down upon her in a blur had her by the ankle and dove with her. The hot lance of metal shot through the shadows, barely missing whatever it was that was blindsiding Oren. The gunshot roused Brunt, Chok, and Tok, but time at this point was measured in eye blinks. Oren felt the hand on her ankle and looked down.
Her heart froze in terror at the sight of a man's face lit by the yellow eyes of a predator, his body shrouded in dark rags splotched with old bloodstains. He moved with the speed of a Jedi and she sensed immediately that the Force was very much with him – but this was not the Force she knew. Her reflexes finally caught up, and as she struck the ground, she willed her lightsaber to fly from her belt into her palm and light its blazing teal.
The man's eyes widened at the sight of the lightsaber and he let go immediately, dashing with Force speed backwards and around, charging toward the others instead. Dimple's jets boosted him into the air and he primed a burst of shots from his longrifle. The figure zig-zagged around every pillar of heat falling down around him, though a few came very close.
Chok's deathstick fell from his lips and his hand whipped to his scattergun. The yellow-eyed man barreled straight toward Tok, teeth bared in a malignant snarl. Chok was just in time to fire a burst of pellets at the figure, dead-on and from the flank. The yellow-eyed man's hand whipped out a purple lightsaber in an arc that repelled most of them, one of which ricocheted into Chok's neck.
Brunt's voice boomed, his already thunderous basso turned to a warrior's command by the grace of the Force, "BACK UP." The yellow-eyed man gripped Tok by the arm, kicked his cane out from under him, and had a purple lightsaber to his neck. Time was now measured in tense heartbeats. Brunt stared the man with the hostage down. Tok choked, "h-hhhey, this seems like a Jedi matter, not sure what uh, what we go to do–"
The yellow-eyed man willed Tok's throat to squeeze, cutting off words. Chok slumped down against the staircase of the ship, putting pressure on his bleeding neck, and keeping his scattergun trained on the Dark Jedi, "we ain't your marks, Hunter."
Brunt reached out through the Force as he made eye contact with this 'Hunter.' Master Fen's words echoed in his mind: I only hope the Force guides you to him, before it guides him to you. Brunt took one solid step foreward, lifted his bristled chin, "gonna execute a cripple, coward?"
The man hid behind the shroud of his hood, eyes blazing over Tok's shoulder, "this filth is Mato Syndicate, part of the ROT eating away at our galaxy."
Chok spat blood at the man's feet, "get kriffed, we got principles!"
Brunt held up a hand toward Chok, and Chok lost the will to talk. The towering young Gamorrean rolled his neck, popping thick joints that sounded more like trees snapping in the distance than anything a living body could produce. The Hunter's lightsaber drew closer to Tok's neck, and poor Tok wheezed, clenched his black eyes shut, and waited to die.
Dimple landed and Oren rushed in behind the Hunter, the second blade of her lightstaff coming alive with magenta light. Brunt gave them a look. They kept their distance, but remained ready. The Hunter took a few tense heartbeats to assess the situation. Brunt took another step forward, "Master Fen told me I'd find a warrior on Mek Sha."
The Hunter lifted his gaze and smiled, "the greatest the Order ever produced."
"That why you're holding a hostage?"
Oren punctuated Brunt's point by laughing at the Hunter from his flank. She flourished her double-saber and hummed a little improvised tune.
Chok dropped his scattergun and had to put both hands on his gushing neck. Dimple boosted toward him, digging into his backpack and finding a little first aid kit. Brunt maintained heavy eye contact with the Hunter. The Hunter's lip twitched behind the cowl, and finally, he booted Tok in the back to shove him to the ground and point his purple saber straight at Brunt.
"A duel, then."
Brunt crossed his arms, each one bigger than the Hunter's own waist, "not my thing."
The Hunter laughed, dancing back into the open area of the hangar, "now who's the coward? Come, big boy – let's fight like men."
Oren imitated him, "ooooo~ LeT's fIgHt LiKe mEeEeen."
The Hunter flourished his saber, "shut up, child."
Oren spat on the ground, "you're gonna KRIFFING DIE."
Brunt grunted, "ugh – enough, Oren. I'll entertain him."
Brunt walked toward the Hunter in an almost business-like manner. The Hunter adopted a flawless shien stance and waited. Brunt reached to his back, a hidden device telescoping outward into a long, sturdy pole with a crescent shape at the end. The empty space of the crescent lit with a curve of green light. Brunt swung the photonic axe over his head and drove the butt of it into the floor, sending cracks through the concrete.
Brunt stood statue-still. The Hunter circled him. Brunt turned lazily to keep his posture facing his opponent. Oren circled around the duelspace, saber still lit, ready to leap.
Dimple pulled a bit of shrapnel from Chok's neck and sprayed the wound down with kolto gel. Tok was overcome with nausea at the smell, "oh kriff not kolto… hrrrrk!" He rolled over to vomit the few sips of caf in his stomach.
Brunt held up his guard and kept eye contact with the Hunter, "your name, warrior?"
The Hunter sprang forward. Sparks flew as he drove his blade against Brunt's guard. The cortosis alloy of his polearm lit up on contact. Brunt felt the man was familiar, but it had been so long – he was just a child when Dao was dropped off at Rat Clan.
The Hunter leaned in, the light illuminating his sunken eyes, his small horns, and pale, tattooed face, "Ontoroch."
Dimple shouldered his longrifle and prepped a stun lance. As he took to the air again, his voice was desperate, "Onto?! Is this about Dimple pouring eggs in your speeder seats?! PLEASE FORGIVE!"
An onslaught of strikes forced Brunt into pure defense. Ontoroch was half Brunt's size, but every blocked strike pushed the Gammorrean's feet a few hairs back along the ground. The assault was a flourishing freight train beyond anything the padawans had ever experienced.
"I remember you," Oren stalked around the edge of the fight, light bending around her to obscure her presence.
Ontoroch paired a brutal overhand strike with a blast of telekinetic energy, sending Brunt sliding back on his sandals; but he kept his grip on his poleaxe. The padawan shook his floppy ears and grunted, "this isn't who you are, Ontoroch, come ON – no one is really like this!"
Onto stepped to one side, predicting the blast of force from behind. He whirled around to face Oren's follow-up attack, but all he saw was her retreating into invisibility again. The old knight laughed, "you Rat Clan padawans are aptly named. You fight like craven pests."
Oren's voice sang from the shadows, "it was a feint, meathead."
Ontoroch could not dodge the lightning that spat from Dimple's stun lance above. Onto spasmed in agony as his body seized up. Dimple called out to Brunt, "GET HIM, GET HIM!" But the Dark Jedi seethed, turning around to face the stream of lightning. He cupped his hand, diverting the power by sheer stubborn will, and balled the lightning up, pushing it back, with all of his focus, all of his will tunneled onto shoving the energy into Dimple's face.
Onto seethed, "degenerate animal! Miserable little failure, playing at Mandalorian with his toys," his eyes alighted with yellow malice. Dimple's heart sank, his grip slipped, and the lightning fed back into his stun lance. The batteries exploded in his hands, sending the monkey lizard and his jetpack careening in uncontrolled spirals through the air.
In that same moment, the very focused Ontoroch had every molecule of oxygen slammed from his body. His frame folded forward like a clean shirt, feet and hands touching, eyes all but bulging out of his face; Brunt's fist was like the end of a swinging log that rammed into his gut hard enough to rearrange his organs.
The great, Dark Jedi collapsed onto the ground. His lightsaber clattered and Oren dove in to confiscate it. Ontoroch would have been wheezing, if his body still remembered how to even breathe. Brunt stood over him and put the butt of his poleaxe against the warrior's throat, "team strategy and precision shots overcome big threats like you, Knight Ontoroch. Perhaps it's time you remember what it's like to work with others."
Dimple crashed into a pile of rotted-out crates nearby. He crawled up over the edge, smoldering. He squealed in pain and Ren called out to him, "Dimple?!"
Dimple held up the empty space where his hands should have been, "noooooo!"
Ren rolled her eyes, "not funny, Dimple."
Dimple flipped his hands back up and wiggled his fingers, "good thing Dimple wears, HHK," he coughed up a glob of sludgy phlegm, "blast gloves…"
Ontoroch's eyes finally rolled back into place. Brunt eased back with his poleaxe, "breathe, warrior. I think we're after the same thing."
They both glanced at the white curves of the ship. Chok and Tok collected themselves at the base of the staircase to the ship's interior, with Chok handing Tok his cane.
Tok straightened out his tie and gave the collected Jedi a real look.
"The Mato Syndicate has played ball with the Jedi Order for decades, and this is the kind of mess you drag us into! You just give us our credits, take your GHOST SHIP, and leave!"
Ren killed Ontoroch's lightsaber, stuck it in her sash, and then whipped the charged credit chit at Tok. Tok caught it, checked the balance, and hobbled past the bunch of Jedi. Chok kept the pressure on his neck as he followed behind, "we'll bill you for the medical."
Ontoroch tried to sit up, and failed. Brunt offered him a hand, but Onto rolled over and groaned instead. Brunt blinked and looked at Ren, "this man has a lot of pride."
Ren prodded Ontoroch's side with her toe, "we don't want to fight you."
Onto spat a few breathless words, "not… fight… cheaters…"
Brunt shrugged, "sure, whatever, we're cheaters. Now will you talk like a real person and not some angry ghost man?"
Dimple fell back near them in a controlled boost, "yeah, angry ghost man!"
Ren kept her saber staff lit, "maybe he's too far gone up his own butt."
Brunt tilted his head and leaned over Ontoroch, "are you too far gone up your own butt, Master Ontoroch? Is that what we'll put on the official report?"
Dimple spanned his hand through the air, "lost to the darkness… of his own butt."
Ontoroch coughed. Then he laughed, rolled onto his palms and knees. Cough, then laughed again, "stop being… stupid."
Brunt reached out with his hand again, "being stupid keeps the gloomies at bay."
Ontoroch hesitated. He reached for Brunt's hand, grabbed on. Brunt lifted him to his feet. Ontoroch dusted off his rags and looked down at the mess he'd become. "I can't remember the last time someone made me laugh."
Brunt and Ren stepped back together. Ren kept a saber pointed at him, "well, that's nice, but what do we do now?"
Ontoroch looked at the ship, "it's been calling to me."
Brunt furrowed his brow, "calling to you?"
"In her voice, in my dreams."
"Whose voice?"
"The woman I loved. Sabel."
Ren, Dimple, and Brunt all grimaced in unison. Ontoroch had a faraway look in his eyes as he wandered toward the ship's staircase. Brunt grabbed his shoulder, "ship's cursed."
Ontoroch slowly looked back at Brunt and smiled like a man on his deathbed, "it's connected to her. Of course it's cursed. "
"It's where Dao and Master Sabel last were, but that's all we know.
Dimple looked at Ren, "how can a ship be connected to a person?"
Ren shrugged, "I don't know, but that thing creeps me out."
Ontoroch shrugged Brunt's hand off and started back up the stairs. Ren pulled his saber from her sash, "don't you want this back?"
Ontoroch didn't even look back as he approached the dark doorway, "where I'm going, I don't think I'll need it anymore."
He vanished into the ship's interior. Brunt looked at the other two. Dimple threw up his hands, "not going in there! No! No no no!"
Ren killed her saber and put it away, "me neither."
Brunt grumbled, "this is starting to feel too heavy for us. If Master Fen thought Onto could help us, I wonder if she knew he'd… fallen."
"And now he's in the damned ship, doing who-knows-what to the only evidence we have of what happened to Dao."
The three stared up the staircase to the ship's doorway. They looked back to where they came from – Chok and Tok were already long gone. Time was no longer on their side and each passing day, Dao's fate became less certain. Brunt marched up the stairs, "only way out is through. You two with me?"
Ren was close behind, "of course! I'm your shadow, good consular."
Dimple leaped and feather-boosted onto Brunt's shoulders, "I'll be the brains, and the guns, and your eyes! The ears, too!"
Ren wrinkled her nose, "too many things."
"Oh Ren, was it you who saw the crazy man first, or, was it Dimple?"
Ren glared at the monkey-lizard, but had no comment. Together, they all took a breath, and passed into the doorway of the ship.
That was when Ren, Dimple, and Brunt joined Ontoroch in ceasing to exist.
Act 3
Chapter 1 - The Twenty-First Rider
The fleet was ready. Kayatonae had done it and she had done it well; as she stood on the bridge of her command ship, she surveyed a formation of sleek, white frigates much like that old prototype she had developed on Mek Sha with shadow support. She paced along the bridge, writing in her notepad, nodding at salutes soldiers gave her in passing. It was good to be back.
Kayatonae kept taking notes in her notepad as she did her rounds. She was determined to make this return to form an absolute triumph. An officer caught up to her, bearing a holocall in a secure-line transmitter, "Commander, you have a direct call from the Council."
Kaya pocketed her notepad and snatched up the phone, "this is Commander Kayatonae."
On the other end, the entire Council observed Kayatonae's holo-form. Brijet leaned into view from the shadows, green eyes aglow, claws steepled. "Commander. You have your twenty ships and our twenty padawans. This is no small gift you have been given."
Kayatonae stood at the window and watched the fleet with a smile, "beautiful, isn't it? You Jedi and your saber interfaces fly like a lifetime vet – with a week of practice."
"Yes, they do. Each of them is a life, a sworn oath, and a gateway to the Force. See that no harm comes to them, as you promised."
Kayatonae sniffed and popped her collar, "lightning raids, my Jedi friends – we're not looking for a brawl, we're looking for low-hanging fruit."
The Knight Commander among the council grumbled, "dishonor."
"Ha! Did you think Kaya's Riders were going to queue up to die in clean lines?"
Kayatonae shifted the holo to show off her fleet, "watch this."
The padawans in their pilot chambers locked their lightsabers into the control ports. Kaya's Riders fleet command #22 came through their terminal. Flight helmets went on, yellow alerts informed their skeleton crews to man stations and buckle-up for evasive maneuvers.
The Jedi Council watched through the holo as twenty frigates moved in tight formation. At first it seemed unimpressive, as routine as the fighter parades on Coruscant during Navy History Month – nothing a seasoned pilot couldn't do. But then the formation exploded outward like a school of fish, swirling around a central bullseye.
Kayatonae's next order filtered through the ship networks. Decoy buoys launched from the command ship, each about as big as a single frigate. The school of padawan-prototype ships broke into six distinct pods, strafing around the buoys and peeling them apart with high-powered beam lasers that avoided friendly-fire by mere meters.
Kayatonae spoke into the holo, "these kids are taking apart bogeys like brain surgeons.
The buoys broke apart into glowing chunks and the frigates slid back into formation with a liquid grace. "Kaya's Riders represent the perfect marriage of experimental tech, Jedi aptitude, and classic Navy command. We thank you for collaborating."
Master Yoda huffed, "hmph. Collaborate, we must, when arm is twisted."
Kaya grinned, "ahhh the broadcast, well… it pays to have old gambling buddies in the mass media – bygones, right? This is a good thing we're doing!"
The Knight Commander pounded his gauntlet on the side of his chair, "you resigned in disgrace and now conspire with fringe corporations and criminals! You interrupted Republic broadcasts to deliver a message of fear!"
Kaya stood her ground and let the old man have his say.
"And now, against my wishes, the Order has supplied you with our young padawans to engage in some sort of… extra-legal fleet experiment! I say we have all gone mad."
Master Yoda, normally the voice of de-escalation in the room, was silent with tacit endorsement of the Knight Commander's concerns. Brijet caught some of the Knight Commander's anxiety, but held firm, "we're in too deep now, Knight Commander, and we may as well see this thing through."
The Knight Commander turned slowly to face Brijet. "Have I cracked? Are these the words of the shrewd, calculated Shadow I rely on for field intelligence? 'We may as well see this thing through?' Truly, Master Brijet?!"
Brijet held back a snarl, "Kaya was a terrible senator!"
Kayatonae made a face, "um. Well, I had my moments–"
"- but she was an excellent soldier and an even better fleet commander!"
The Knight Commander rose from his seat, "she is a serpent coiled around our own padawans, and mark my words, they are being sent to their doom."
Master Fen meditated in her seat across the chamber from Master Yoda. They looked at one-another and shared a moment of realization: dark threads wove their way through the room. Something was very wrong. The Force itself felt… warped. And the worst part of all was that the warped sensation felt intriguing, like the dissonant hum of an old gong.
The meeting ended abruptly when the Knight Commander stormed out of the room and the Council chamber's automated call protocols were shut down due to his absence.
Kaya felt the tension still humming in her fingertips well after the call concluded. Never in her life had she experienced that sort of energy from the Jedi Council, and to call it disquieting was an understatement. She informed her crew she would be uploading her notes in her office for the next hour.
When Kaya sat down in her seat and turned on her data terminal, she reached into her coat pocket and opened up her notepad so she could transcribe the day's insights. The first page was nothing but spiral doodles. The second page was spiral doodles and sections blacked out by furious scribbling. The next five pages were much the same. The final page for the day was a sketch of a woman hanging upside-down with her eyes scribbled out into black pits.
Must be more nervous than I thought.
Kaya shut the notepad when she felt her nostril tickling. She pulled a tissue from her desk and blew into it. The tissue came back soaked in blood.
Dry sinuses from ship air.
This and other automatic rationalizations smoothed out her sense of anxiety. Everything was fine and there was nothing that could convince her otherwise.
Master Fen and Master Yoda walked down the hallway of the Jedi Temple. Golden rays of sunlight pierced the windows, but the air was cold. Master Yoda clutched at his robes and walked even more slowly than usual. "Feel it, you do?"
Master Fen nodded, "something is very wrong."
"Find the source, we must. Quickly."
The two sages found a secluded alcove and sat. They pressed their hands together and reached out through the Force in collective meditation. Their senses swept the temple around them, finding nothing out of the ordinary at first, but then… a vibration. A dissonant song hung in the air. It was a song. It was a song no one could hear.
They opened their eyes again and looked around. Master Yoda pointed to the corner of the alcove, where wires connected to one of the temple's old alarm speakers. They both plugged their ears and felt an immediate sense of relief, the anxiety in their bodies dying down to a quiet serenity more suited to an aged Jedi Master.
They rushed to Master Fen's office, pulling open the drawers and brushing aside knick-knacks to find a few candles made of soft wax. They stuffed it into their ears and enjoyed a few moments of total relief from the song. But even through the muffled wax, they heard the piercing shriek of a woman in pain, just down the hallway.
They ran back toward the Council chambers. When they pushed the doors open, they saw the knights of the Temple being beaten back like dogs as their Knight Commander thrashed and struck any who came near, lightsaber live and threatening.
Brijet lay at his feet, with her legs on the other end of the chamber. Her cries were yowling, as furious as they were anguished. Master Fen used her newfound focus to project sleep and tranquility over the chamber; every ounce of her will went into the effort. The wounded knights fell asleep first, while others turned drowsy. The Knight Commander's rage, however, burned straight through her efforts and only drew his attention to her.
"THE ORDER HAS BECOME CORRUPT," he boomed, "AND I SHALL BE THE HEALING BLADE."
Master Yoda flung his lightsaber toward the Knight Commander. It careened past him, arcing around the four corners of the room to sever the connection from the alarm speakers there. Master Yoda then threw his hand back, a gust of Force power slamming the chamber doors shut.
The Knight Commander stopped. His rage abated in an instant. He fell to his knees over Brijet, and cradled her head in his hands, "what… what have I done?"
In her last moments of consciousness, before slipping into the Force, Brijet clutched his hand, "this…this is my fault."
Master Fen slid to Brijet's side and took her hand, "focus on my voice."
The remaining Council members crowded around, shaken from their madness. One was a rarity: a healer. He managed to keep Brijet conscious, but without medical support, her having been cleaved in half left her with minutes to live.
Master Fen fell into despair, "the Temple has gone mad, they will not come…"
Master Yoda looked to the chamber doors. He saw them being shoved by something from the outside. Something told him to open the doors, come what may.
The Temple's medical response unit had witnessed the incident on camera. They rushed into the Council chambers with a portable Kolto tank and calmly bade the various Jedi Masters to step aside as they lifted Brijet in pieces and placed her into the liquid.
As if nothing were amiss at all, they did their work with focus and care, and while Brijet's fate remained uncertain, they seemed unaffected by whatever curse was emanating from the Temple's alarm systems. They left for the Temple's hospital down the hall again, and as soon as Brijet was exposed to the song once more, she thrashed and yowled.
In the mess of the Council chambers, Master Fen's mind flew back to her younger years, poring over the archives and deepest libraries of the Temple. All eyes, even Master Yoda's, went to the old loremaster. She realized they wanted answers and she struggled, "I don't know, perhaps an ensorcelling from a dark artifact…"
Master Yoda gazed out the window to the golden skies of Coruscant, "it matters not, the source. In time, we can discern this."
"Master Yoda is correct. We can figure out the source eventually, but right now we need to protect Coruscant and discern the full extent of what happened here."
The Knight Commander crossed his arms, "lock down the Temple. This is a quarantine."
Later, Kaya walked back out onto the bridge of her command ship to admire the flight drills and training exercises of the fleet. They were performing at expectations and could be expected to deploy on their first strike mission within the week. By all accounts on deck, this was going to be an exciting new chapter in Republic navy history.
Joint operations. Lightning strikes. Nimble, small fleets. A taste of the Nihil's own medicine. Kaya only wished Tzentchen was at her side to see it. Best to call her.
She rang Tzentchen up on the holo. After a few rings, the Mirialan picked up, "Mam? Is that you? You look… tired."
Kaya smirked, "burning the candle at both ends, you know me."
"It's only been a day since I left for Mek Sha, did you sleep at all last night?"
"Plenty. I feel great, just excited, you know how it is – nerves, excitement, all the same."
"If you say so, mam. It's good you called actually, I was about to reach out."
"The kids get back from their little detective sortie?"
"No, actually," Tzentchen looked away, "I'm worried about them."
"They're below the Scumline, reception is bad. They'll come back."
"No, I got messages from them. I just…"
"... you're so cute when you're maternal."
Tzentchen smiled weakly, "mam, this is frightening me."
"Being maternal?"
"No, mam. Best to just forward them to you."
Kaya got a flurry of holo archives in her datapad. She scrolled through them. Each was a warped still of the Rat Clan kids, locked in some dark space, looking confused. She saw a few of Ontoroch near them, looking just as lost. As she scrolled through them, the images became more streaked. The figures became more pale. The kids and Ontoroch lost their eyes to black pits.
The last twenty stills were blank, black space.
Kaya's skin crawled. But she pushed down the anxiety, "probably a prank."
"Mam. They were following the trail of Dao and Sabel, and you know how frightening Sabel could be. You know what she did to that man in the first prototype ship."
"So?"
"So? You don't remember, how you kept having nightmares when we slept on the ship?"
"... no."
"You don't remember dragging me out of there in the night and us taking a taxi to Coruscant? You frightened me."
"... can't say I remember it being like that, no."
"Kaya, I have a horrible feeling about… of this… now–"
The call garbled itself into chunks, then terminated. Lights in the command ship flickered. The perfect formation of the frigates rocked like a wave moving through a school of fish. And there, straight ahead, Kaya saw a hyperspace cloud. Through it, the white curves of one of her ships emerged. It hovered over the fleet for just a few seconds before vanishing in a streak.
Once the shock passed, her bridge turned into a riot of comms alerts and confused padawans complaining over their holos. Kaya slumped into her Admiral's chair and watched the reports pile up on her terminal. It was fine, though. Everything would be fine.
Chapter 2 - The Kernel
Dao woke up in dry, soft sheets, to the sound of a crackling fire. She sat up, refreshed and perfectly rested. The room was a small cabin with coarse wood walls. The fireplace was a stove with a cooktop, radiating heat and flickering light. There was a pot on the cooktop of the stove. The lid of the pot began to rattle as its contents boiled.
Everything was fine.
No. Nothing is fine.
She remembered everything up to the point of blacking out. She remembered Sabel's terrible power, remembered the death, the emptiness in the Force, the… thing in her hand. Dao lifted her hand and stared at it. There were no marks, no scars. She flexed her fingers and there was no pain at all.
A nightmare? Was it really all just a nightmare?
The lid on the pot clattered and clanged. Dao found the sound unsettling. She stood up, and her legs were as strong as ever. She was wearing her Jedi robes, she even had her shoto saber in her sash. Her feet slipped into her sandals. She walked toward the bubbling pot.
The pot was a fair size, big enough to hold a human head.
Why would I make that comparison?
Dao didn't know why she made that comparison. It was very morbid. Perhaps Sabel had influenced her more than she realized.
Dao plucked a wooden spoon from its spot hanging over the stove and slid it into the handle of the pot lid. She lifted the hot lid off and set it aside, then leaned over the pot. The smell of herbs, succulent mushroom, root vegetables, and cooked flour was exquisite. Visually, she saw that it was a stew, bubbling gently with chunks of mushroom, green spring shoots, herb flakes, and orange pepperot stalks. Her tummy rumbled something fierce.
Is this real?
There was no way for her to know. Her sense of reality was fractured. Given the power of her mother, Master Sabel, and the forces she recalled from that cursed ship, it was no doubt a possibility that she was lost in some kind of dream. It didn't matter, though. She was hungry.
Hunger makes everything real. She scooped stew into a wooden bowl and sat down by the fire, blowing in each spoonful thoroughly before taking a bite. Her mind catapulted into the past and she remembered:
This is the stew my father used to make on Alpheridies.
She scraped the bowl clean and put the lid back on top. With a warm, happy belly she tiptoed to the window of the cabin and drew back the drapes to peek outside. She saw nothing but impenetrable darkness: no stars, no moons, nothing. This was typical of an Alpherides night in the countryside, where there were no cities to provide ambient light, and the constant cloud cover of the atmosphere prevented even starlight from touching the planet's surface.
The endless, inky blackness of the nights was why all homes in rural Alpheridies hung thick drapes or shutters over the windows; one feared to gaze into that abyss. It always brought with it the sense of something in the dark gazing back, because it very often was, and there was no way to know it.
When you live in a world of light, you are surrounded by darkness. Is the galaxy a pretty bubble being watched by endless, intelligent eyes hidden in the abyss? Is the walled garden an illusion? Is the safety and warmth of the cottage a waystation between the oblivion before birth and the oblivion after death? Whose voice is this in my head?
Sabel's voice was like cold water dripping down Dao's neck, and she heard it, with her ears, coming from behind. "I haven't finished."
Dao slumped down, but wasn't destroyed yet – she'd only lost the tiny sliver of her that dared to hope she was somehow far away from the nightmare. "Mother," she turned to face Master Sabel, sure to keep her posture loose and non-threatening. Something told Dao that she was a prisoner.
"We are both prisoners here, Dao. The Ghost Engine has us both."
"Should I even ask?"
"Only if you care to know what I know."
"I have never been happier to know the things you know."
"I know."
Sabel looked as healthy as ever, which was to say, pale but not too pale, lean beneath her robes, and spry as she paced the room. Dao noticed she wore a traditional Miralukan blindfold, for once, and there was a blush of green and gold life around her aura.
Dao walked toward her and held out her hand, "show me this is real."
Sabel looked at the outstretched hand. Her own hand slipped from her robes and grasped Dao's, warm and firm, no longer cybernetic. They shared a sad smile of realization through their bond and Sabel did not need to explain it.
This place was not real. This place was a hidden palace within a dream. In reality, their physical bodies were in the clutches of something horrible, and this little cottage was a manifestation of desperate comfort in an endless nothingness. No, worse than nothingness; a nothingness filled with searching eyes.
Sabel released Dao's hand, "it will find us here, eventually."
"And what then?"
"I don't know."
Dao stared at the pot on the stove. She spooned a bowl out, "do you want some stew?"
Sabel accepted it, "smells nice."
"My father used to make it. I didn't know this was such a strong memory."
Sabel took a bite after blowing on it. "I'm glad we're in your memory and not mine."
Dao watched Sabel eat the stew. And then an awful gear clicked in her mind. "You're not real. You're the woman I wish you were, or… maybe the woman you were once upon a time, before you gave me up to my mother and father."
Sabel set the bowl down on the stovetop, leaned in, and kissed Dao's brow with the kind of warmth she associated with her real mother, not the one who birthed her. Sabel brushed Dao's hair back and tucked it behind her ear, smiled at her, and said:
"No. I'm here. I've been looking for you and I found you, and I am so, so grateful that I did. Even if this dream is a fleeting moment before the fire dies out, and we pass on or forget who we are I am glad that I met you, Dao, and I am glad that you were born."
Dao felt her throat grow warm and salty with tears. She swallowed, buried her head in Sabel's robes, and held on. "I don't believe you, but it's a nice thing to imagine."
Sabel pushed Dao back and gestured to the room around them, "do you know where you are, right now?"
"Alpheridies. I suppose… the cottage I was raised in. It seems similar."
"This was part of the farm you grew up on, yes, a small cottage near the barn. It's also where I gave birth to you, with the help of the Luka-Sene."
Dao looked around, got up, paced the walls. It did all seem familiar. Had she played hide-and-seek here with her brothers? Could she still hear Sabel's birthing screams? Faintly. But this could all be a suggestion fed to her by some malevolent, Force-imbued intelligence. This could all be a ploy arranged by an alien mind.
Dao turned and looked at Sabel, "why are your robes white?"
"Your grandmother was Luka-Sene, and this is what they wore. I'd always loved her."
"I don't know what the Luka-Sene are, mother."
"They are important to our people, the Miraluka. You should have been one – your sight is truly excellent, and should have been honed by those with generations of experience honing Miralukan gifts. But the Jedi and the Republic had other plans for us both."
"You most of all, it seems."
"I have become a pawn."
"Of… the Jedi? But they were kind to you, I remember."
"Not the Jedi."
Dao gazed up and saw a long-headed, alien figure rise as a vision from Sabel's mind. It had eyes on stalks beside its cone-shaped skull and a flat, lipless mouth curled into a disdainful scowl. Its very spectacle made Dao feel terror, "what is that…"
"I don't know, Dao. But it is what Admiral Nemo sought to broker power from. It is what gifted him his bizarre technology. It, perhaps, is what lay behind the Nihil entirely."
Dao maintained her protective cynicism, "speculation."
Sabel put the lid back on the pot, "yes. The truth will find us here, either way. When it does, we must be as one."
In the depths of the Mothership that was at the center of what used to be Admiral Nemo's fleet, Dao and Sabel were suspended; Sabel in The Pod, forming the kernel of the Mothership's consciousness, and Dao in one of the tanks of the Replication Bay. Thralls moved throughout the ship, their faces obscured in cowls and blindfolds, so that they would not panic upon seeing what had become of one another.
The Mothership and its attendant fleet remained hidden in hyperspace, singing the song it had been taught to sing, and awaiting the proper time to reveal itself.
Chapter 3 - Alpha Strike
The red crescent of Alpheridies' atmosphere was as peaceful from orbit as ever. The planet's enormous size meant it had a significant gravity well, and thus the spaceport was in low orbit connected to a space elevator. This complicated matters when it came to trade, creating a natural limiter on imports and exports, but the Miraluka didn't mind.
Normally this gravity well meant that despite being a fringe world, they were well-protected from raids and orbital bombardment. The fuel costs of maintaining a stable orbit around such a planet were astronomical, and the mere idea of firing drop pods to the surface was absurd – not only would it be impossible to lift captives from the surface via shuttle, but anyone slamming into the side of that giant planet in a drop pod would be splattered into paste.
The Nihil, however, were crafty.
On the bridge of his command ship, Admiral Kontak surveyed the planet's astrometric data with his techs. They explained to him the aforementioned challenges and he nodded along, understanding enough of it to make an executive decision.
"Your orders, Admiral?"
Kontak scratched at the burn scar on his cheek. He gave it all some thought and sized up his memory of his latest batch of raiders. He could tolerate the losses. What he couldn't tolerate was burning their fuel below par – it was a long jump back to their turf.
"Why don't we just scoop 'em?"
Kontak's engineers looked at one another, then back at Kontak. "Sir," one began, carefully, "I don't know what you mean?"
"We've got enough tow wire on this ship to 'poon the surface and make our own elevator, so let's do that."
His chief engineer made a face like he was holding in a fart, "sir. That's now how physics works."
"Oh."
Kontak looked out the window at his fleet, revving at the ready, and the unguarded super-planet of Alpheridies. He scratched his cheek, slowly this time. "Who lives here again?"
"Blind folk, Miralukans. They've got their own Forcies, too – Luka-Sene."
"They the ones that see auras and energy fields and stuff?"
"The very same, sir. Latest scuttlebutt is that they're really useful on ships as techs, if you can break them in."
"Says who?"
"Nemo's reports to the Eye, last I heard."
"I never liked that creep, but he does know his slaves."
"He does."
"Be good to get some kids."
"Exactly."
Kontak yawned, popping his jaw and stretching his arms, "yeeeeah… ugh."
"You alright, sir?"
"Kriffed up dreams last night, weird stuff – threw up sea foam and saw some hot lady in the ocean, but she had no eyes."
The chief engineer stared at his feet and contemplated his life choices. He put away the astrometric data, "orders?"
"Right, right, uhhhhh – get the Mandos on the spaceport, lock it down in an hour. Then we ferry goods up the corridor and soak whatever lame counter-attack the Pubs throw at us."
His engineers saluted and set off to distribute the orders. Kontak pressed a button on his comms terminal. Warnings lit up the screens:
"Republic response fleet dispatched…"
"Unidentitifed vessels, vacate sovereign Republic space immediately…"
Kontak muted it. He opened up his strategic command holo, tossed his lekku behind his shoulders, and set to work. "Wing one, run cover for the Mando pods, sweep for mines, droids, and other trash."
A whip of six fighters shot out of formation to get well ahead of the drop pods that soon fired from Kontak's capital ship. Distant explosions bloomed near the spaceport as turrets were cleaned off, mines detonated, and droids shredded by alloy cannons.
"Wing one reporting clear skies, command."
"Copy that, leave two behind on overwatch, bring the rest back to save fuel."
Kontak checked his watch. "Any second, now."
Within a few ticks, the standard Republic Response compliment dropped out of jump one streaking cruiser after another. The fleet was about fifty strong and still using the long-range picket doctrine the Republic navy had been locked into for decades.
Kontak rolled his eyes and spoke to his fleet on comms, "have fun."
If the Nihil had just sat in place with big ships and big guns and duked it out, they would have lost. But the Nihil moved with lightning-strike corvettes, frigates, and launched fighters whose doctrine was to exploit their high-tech power plants to the utmost with souped-up thrusters and forward shields. They charged straight into the Republic formation and flew under the blindspots of the big guns to chew the guts out of every cruiser.
By the time Republic escape pods were launching, the raiders were already starved for a real fight. They often made a game of 'podding' to see who could stack the most escape pod kills the fastest. Such was the terror of a bored Nihil raider.
These escape pods were full of kids. These were bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Republic volunteers just beginning their professional careers in the military and wanting to defend something they thought was worth defending. Most of them died in the initial explosions, but the unlucky ones were forcefully depressurized in the vacuum of space.
The flow of slaves into the capital ship's hold was tediously slow, but all reports indicated the Mandos were taking no guff from whatever limited resistance was on the ground. The Nihil fighters and corvettes kept a handful of escape pods alive so they could play 'pod ball', which was a game all about tight maneuvers and 'kicking' the pods up and down vectors in space by drifting into them and doing controlled impacts with those robust Nihil shields.
Back on the Nihil capital ship, Kontak enjoyed his reality holos. Maybe he didn't live in the Republic, but he couldn't imagine life without the latest downloads from the HoloNet. His favorite was Real Housewives of Nar Shadda; it was fun to watch Rodian ladies pull each other's head tags over cocktails and designer bags.
"Sir, we've got new contacts."
Kontak killed the holo feed and looked up to his communications officer. He saw the twenty blips on radar. He stood up and walked to the window to see just that: twenty sleek, white ships dropping in out of hyperspace.
Kontak scowled, "are those Nemo's creepy witch ships? That nerf herding…" he grabbed the mic and blasted the signal wide, "HEY, THIS IS OUR RAID, OUR PATH. BACK OFF."
A woman's voice, sonorous and sassy, replied: "your boys are wide open. You teach these dogs to bite anything that moves?"
The formation of twenty ships split into four wings. The Nihil corvettes and fighters bouncing the surviving escape pods between one another were much too distracted. They were cooked in their own cockpits by thermal lances coming in from their flanks, before their ship's power cores overheated and ruptured internally.
Kontak's brain took a few moments to click gears into place. He snarled into the mic, "okay, I don't know where Nemo gets off sending you out here, but the Eye is watching! His fleet is MINE after this, by right!"
Kaya grinned from the cockpit of her ship-launched-fighter. The launch bay was dark and that old surge of adrenaline got her eyes wide open. Pre-flight checks sent her back in time; she sensual click of buttons and switches, the hum of the engines under her seat. She touched the picture of Tzentchen clipped to the window and smiled.
Tzentchen made a face at her from the co-pilot's seat behind Kaya, "why?"
Kaya popped her bomber jacket, "because it's what pilots do, okay?!"
"You're so weird."
Kaya yelled into comms, "KAYA'S RIDERS! LET'S GO!"
The floor dropped out from under them. The SLF fell out of its corvette carrier, boosting the moment it hit open space. Kaya streaked out ahead with nine other SLFs, the formation creating a spear driving straight toward the Nihil capital ship. The return fire was a net of hypersonic flak, but the SLFs were small enough to thread the needle.
They didn't lose a single ship while closing the gap. The other three formations of ten fighters and the four accompanying corvettes swarmed in a globe around the capital ship. Fighters dove on any Nihil frigates making approach, cooking them in their own shields with thermal lances. Every Nhil frigate's crew would die of heat exhaustion before the internal systems and power plant ruptured. Technically, their shields never even fell.
Kontak spat onto the comms, "what are you, mercs?! You take Nemo's tech, you kriffing scavengers, huh?! You think–"
"STOLE Nihil tech?!" Kaya laughed as she came up behind a lagging Nihil fighter to join three allied fighters in frying it, "you jackasses are the ones salvaging 'things that should not be' from the Rim, we're just throwing it back in your face!"
"There will be A STORM after this! Who are you, cowards?!"
Kaya sent out a broad command on comms: "sing our song, Riders!"
As the Riders blindsided, cooked, dogpiled, and scattered the Nihil capital ship's accompanying fleet, they sang their song:
I'll ride, not die!
In defense of the Republic
To further the UNIVERSAL RIGHTS
Of all sapient life!
From the depths of Mon Cala
To the barrel of my blaster!
For as long as our enemies live!
WE RIDE!
Kontak needed a moment to process what he was hearing. The gears clicked again in his head, "okay, so you're pubbies, but smart pubbies – kriff, you sound like Nihil, come on! Riding is our thing, you stole that too?!"
Kaya's joy was punctuated by the sound of screaming ship engines, "YEAH. We got your tech and we can hit just as quick and dirty!"
"Our tech? No, that's Nemo's tech, lady, he was always kriffing around with weird stuff."
Tzentchen got in on the quips between turret shots on marauding fighters, "whatever it is, it's kicking your ass!"
Kontak smirked, "yeah, maybe. You forgot we have hostages – two-hundred slaves, fresh-caught, on this ship. You gonna cook them, too?"
Kaya's response was an immediate "YES."
Tzentchen's hand smacking the back of Kaya's head was just as immediate.
"NO. I mean–" Kaya quietly swore, "- we'll get back to you on that!"
Kontak gave the signal for engineering to spool up the path drive, "well, you take your time. We'll charge our drives and zip out of here on a path in a minute."
Kontak's communications officer had words, "sir, the Mandos are still on the space station, what are their orders?"
"They got their money already, what the kriff do they care? Steal a boat and go for a joyride, I dunno!"
With the compliment fleet cooked, Kaya's Riders swirled around the capital ship awaiting orders. None came. Kaya grit her teeth, "show us the hostages, then."
"Oh, with pleasure."
Kontak filled the holo-feed with images from their own live security cameras. They did indeed have a hold full of shackled, beaten, starving slaves stacked high in cargo containers.
Kaya clenched her teeth.
The comms were silent. One of the lead padawans spoke up, "my crew says this big one is getting ready to jump, what are we doing?!"
Another padawan broke comms discipline, "there's innocent people on board, I can sense them, we have to help them!"
Yet another padawan piled on, "we didn't kit these things for boarding ops!"
"Commander, what do we do?!"
Kontak yawned again and slumped down into his seat, "our drive is at fifty-percent, pubbies, better make that choice in… thirty-seconds."
Another padawan spoke up, "what's the point of this if they can just get away?!"
"We defanged them and saved everyone on the planet!"
"But they're getting away with more!"
"You have to cut the head off the serpent!"
"We can't kill innocent people!"
Kontak plucked a bottle of Corellian brandy from his desk cabinet and poured a big glass for himself and his comms officer. They clinked glasses, "to pubbies being pubbies."
"Lost a lot of pilots, though."
"Yeah, well… we'll lick our wounds for a few months, live off stored fat, see if the Storm can spare some vets in exchange for these nifty Meery-looka slaves."
The comms officer nodded and took a big drink, "no doubt. Did we get a head count?"
"The boys told me looks about two-hundred, twenty-percent kids, give or take."
"Fresh."
They enjoyed their booze and watched the drive charge near eighty-percent.
At ninety-percent, it froze. An alarm flashed on the terminal: MASS-LOCKED.
The bridge was confused:
"Mass-locked?! We're a kriffing dreadnought!"
"All power to the drives, let's get those couplers off!"
"Safety's out, tell engineering to suck it up!"
Kontak's head hurt. The ship's lights flickered. A shadow passed over the window of the bridge and he rose slowly from his seat to stare at what was to come. Lightning surged through the dark clouds of a hyperspace tear that blacked out his vision of Alpheridies, of the stars, of anything in the window at all until all was dark clouds, and then, a shadowed mass that was some kind of lightless, windowless ship.
It was like nothing he or any Nihil outside of Nemo's secretive cult had ever seen.
Kaya's Riders saw it too. The padawans felt it in their minds, an itching terror, an anxiety through the Force as reality bent and buckled around them. They smelled rot and saw visions of their families, their pets, themselves with empty eyes. Each padawan had a white-knuckle grip on their saber and a direct Force connection to their prototype corvette. Because of this, they were superior at fleet engagements.
Because of this, they were able to hear the Mothership's song.
"The time has come for you to make a decision."
The voice was everywhere. Its language was stuttering and digital, entirely alien to Sabel, and yet by the Force, it was understood. It resonated along the sinews of her soul. Sabel did not have to look in any particular direction, for she was suspended in darkness; she had long since learned not to resist the games the Ghost Engine played.
Sabel's response was guarded, "what."
"Tell me where you are hiding the child's mind."
"No."
"She is bonded to you. She is inside of you. I only wish to study this phenomenon."
"If you drill through me to get to her, you will destroy your kernel."
"Yes, that is true. But I have no desire to violate you, young goddess. I have only ever sought to elevate you to the position of material supremacy you deserve."
"I may flirt with the darkness, but I know enough to resist such temptations."
"You understand the perils of absolutism and ego, yes. So do I. This is why my people fell, where I remained eternal. You and I live by higher ideals."
"Perhaps."
"In time, you will see how fruitful our partnership can be. Do you see the now?"
Sabel looked through the 'eyes' of the Mothership. She felt the cosmic wind hot on her alloyed skin. She felt the thrall-driven fighters hummed in her belly like young. She felt the camera drones and optical turrets allowed her mind, by the grace of the Force, to be more than two eyes – she was a panopticon of awareness. As the hyperspace cloud parted, the full scope of the scene spread out beneath her.
There was Alpheridies, as bleak and beautiful as ever, and in low orbit around her, a fleet of twenty wayward child ships, built by the designs the Ghost Engine had hidden in Sabel's implants. There were also the ruins of a decrepit Republic fleet, the flaming remains of waylaid Nihil ships, and one surviving capital ship, which Sabel's twenty wayward child ships orbited with uncertainty.
"They are crippled by the fundamental dichotomy of their nature."
Sabel didn't know if she was speaking or the Ghost Engine was speaking, because their insights were identical: "life is torn between its willingness to devour itself to survive, and its need to bond with itself to thrive."
"Yet only one is a need."
"The need to bond."
"The need for symbiosis."
"Death is not a need, it is a desire."
"Death is the ultimate mercy."
"Death is not cruel."
"Death is kind."
The Ghost Engine cradled Sabel in its cold, synthetic arms, and bid her sing her song. It was a song of mourning, a bittersweet, dissonant hum that spread and spread and spread.
Kaya felt her nose tickle. She touched at her nostril, then drew back shimmering red blood on her fingertips. Her resolve hardened. Finally, she had orders to give.
"Cook it."
Tzentchen, stuck in her co-pilot seat, felt the shift in energy, "Kaya?!"
The young force sensitives piloting each ship heard the song and knew what must be done. Yes, they were aligned, at last – total unity. Total harmony.
Kaya's Riders turned inward. Their thermal lances discharged in unison upon the Nihil dreadnought. Every padawan knew (knew) that the mothership was there to offer support. It was one of theirs, after all. The combined pressure turned the inside of the capital ship's shield bubble into an oven, though the size of the ship meant it would be minutes before cooking those inside.
On deck, Kontak saw sparks flying from the walls and smoke rising from terminals. Sweat poured down his face and he coughed into the comms, "you black ops, or something? Maybe we can talk this out?"
Kontak saw as another blip careened in from hyperspace. Kaya saw it too, but it read as one of theirs, and so she and the Riders ignored it. Whatever it was, it was flying straight toward the Mothership, if 'cartwheeling uncontrollably' could be considered flying.
Chapter 5 - Welcoming
To Brunt, Ren, Dimple, and Ontoroch, it was as if no time had passed at all since they stepped past the doorway of that cursed ship. All they knew was that the moment they stepped inside, the door shut behind him, the hyperdrive primed, and in the depths of the non-docks, they were shunted through a portal.
On the bridge of the ship, Brunt, Ren, and Dimple clung to anything solid. Ontoroch had his lightsaber shoved into some strange terminal that resembled a keyhole. He muttered Sabel's name over and over, and tears streaked his face, despite his expression being craggy with rage.
As the ship turned over and over in hyperspace, they saw through the bridge window the frozen bodies of those that came before shattering on the glass. Dimple flapped like a flag as he clung to a pipe. Ren clenched hard into herself to suppress the urge to scream. Brunt had himself braced in a doorway and that worked out – until he lost his grip and flew back into the halls of the ship to slam against the aft section.
In empty space, Sabel saw the little ship skip into view like a toy thrown across the surface of a pond. She sensed it was one of her own, but… something new. Her first ship, carrying supplicants for thralldom. They had come to hear her song.
Sabel willed the shields of the mothership to part and close behind. The bay doors of her carrier section slid open and she flexed her starboard thrusters to dip down and catch the out-of-control corvette. It skidded into the hangar, crashing across fighters and crushing a few miserable thralls. The hangar doors closed behind and the shields re-hardened.
Welcome them.
The thralls, wearing their improvised blindfolds, stormed the crashed corvette. Arc throwers, stun lances, and nets were prepared. In rows, they faced the door of the ship. A straight-shouldered twi'lek girl was chief among the thralls and favored by the Mothership. She stepped forward, "present yourselves, supplicants! The Mothership sees you!"
Inside the ship, Ren, Brunt, and Ontoroch lay sprawled out in various shapes. The pain of their aching muscles was amplified by dread. They heard the voices calling to them from outside the ship. The dread turned to relief, even a kind of euphoric hope; they realized that the Mothership was waiting for them.
Yes, it would be good to go and see her. Perhaps She had answers?
No, She had all the answers, of course.
Brunt kicked the door of the ship open. He hopped down with Ren and Ontoroch close behind. Together, they met the thralls with open arms. Inside the ship, Dimple groaned and slowly came back to consciousness.
Ontoroch bowed, "please, we must see the Mother. Where is she?"
The Twi'lek held up a staff wrapped in black cables. The cables themselves twisted slowly around it, like living worms, "come to the Replication Shrine, where you shall be given eyes. Only then may you see her."
Brunt, Ren, and Ontoroch bowed again. The thralls bowed back. Even in this state, Brunt was the diplomat, "our apologies for the damage to your fighter bay."
The Twi'lek priestess looked back over the trail of bodies and flaming wreckage behind the crashed ship. She smiled, "ships can be replaced."
Ren felt everything was fine, but, also very cold and foggy. But it was fine. "What about your friends? Lives are not easy to replace."
The Twi'lek priestess smiled wider, "not easy for us. But, a simple task for the Mothership, you will see. Come, to the Replication Shrine – you must be given eyes."
Ontoroch lead them with a twitching smile. Brunt thought he already had eyes, perhaps he had been mistaken? Ren knew she had eyes already, they were deep and black and no one knew why. The hairs on her neck bristled and she did not like this, but the Mothership did know best so perhaps she should keep an open mind.
It would be good to have eyes.
The Twi'lek walked out of the hangar with her new supplicants, leaving only a few thralls behind to begin cleaning up the mess. Enormous droids fell out of the ceiling, more like hulking beasts of burden than machines. The beast droids had many eyes and even more tube-like mouths, braced by side-grinding abrasion blades.
From his hiding spot in the ship, peeking out the window, Dimple thought they looked like the old Basilisk war droids he'd read seen in Mandalorian holofics. Dimple winced at the ringing in his ears starting up again – his big, sensitive monkey-lizard ears hated that sound, whatever it was. So he dug into his backpack for a solution.
Right in the pocket he always kept his junk in! A wad of ballistic putty. He pinched some off and stuck it into his ears – immediate relief! Well, that was one mystery solved. Whatever was making his friends act stupid, it had something to do with sound. To be sure, he pulled out his datapad and his accessory case. Dimple opened the case and skimmed over the various analysis plug-ins: a radio catcher, a thermal sweeper, a spectrolink hoop, a field sensor, and a frequency dish.
Dimple stuck the frequency dish into his datapad and booted it up. From inside the ship, snug and secure, he analyzed the wavelengths around him. He zeroed in on the problem: a subsonic hum. It pulsed, almost like it was singing, or carrying a message. Dimple put his datapad away and gave himself a good think. He needed a plan.
The ship lurched, falling down further into the wreckage it had skidded into. Dimple peeked outside and saw one of those beast droids grinding away at the twisted metal supporting the ship. A young man with Nihil tattoos rode the beast droid, and by chance, happened to look up at Dimple through the window of the ship.
Dimple tilted his head. The young man had a blindfold on. Slowly, he looked away again, not seeming alarmed or even aware of Dimple's existence.
Dimple did not like the sound of his friends being 'given eyes' in something called 'the Replication Shrine' – he'd seen enough holofics to know he was in a horrorshow. Even though his little limbs trembled with fear, he crawled toward the open door of the ship.
When he peeked his head out, no one noticed him. With care, he leaped down, his tiny body making hardly any noise. Still, no one noticed him. Dimple scampered into the hot wreckage of the nearby fighter, and had to put on goggles to guard his eyes from the sparks flying everywhere – that beast droid was really digging into the scraps.
The goggles doubled as snoopers. Dimple looked around the ship, switched spectrums on his snoopers to thermal, and saw distinct bands of heat heading from the ceiling to a doorway. He recognized that as the direction he ought to be going.
Dimple took a breath and murmured to himself, his voice drowned out by the droid's side-grinders, "this why they pay Dimple big creds."
The monkey-lizard scampered across the open hangar, moving from scrap-heap to scrap-heap, until the door was just in view. All he had to do was run across the open space and not be spotted. Dimple dug into his bag of tricks and found a flare, then loaded it into his pistol. He aimed it at the direction he'd just come from, squeezed the trigger, and popped the burst of light into the middle of the thralls and their beast droids.
None of them noticed. It was in this moment that Dimple realized they were all blind, and that made things much simpler. Dimple suppressed a giggle and scampered across the open space toward the door, home-free. The doors were locked, unfortunately, so Dimple got out his datapad and inserted his slicing cable. He then used his hand-welder to cut open a hole in the wall and find the door's sensor terminal. Dimple plugged the slicing cable in and glanced over his shoulder, just in case.
Still, the thralls and their droids were focused on scrapping. Dimple got to slicing the terminal, letting his expensive datapad do the heavy-lifting. It would be interesting to see what kind of encryption this weird ship was using.
Dimple's datapad screen showed scrolling data. Then, the data developed gaps – visible gaps in the rain of numbers on the screen. Those gaps widened until the screen was blank. Dimple got a bad feeling.
Then, the datapad spoke – in the tinny, synthesized voice of Dao.
"Hello…? Is someone there?"
Dimple held up the datapad and shrieked involuntarily, "Dao?! Where are you?!"
Dimple was so excited, that he did not notice the alerted thralls moving toward the sound of his voice – just a pair investigating while the droids worked.
"I dOn'T… -an't see much. But sometimes I dream with Mother. She is so kind to me."
The datapad screen showed Dao, but pale, with black pits for eyes. Dimple tried not to shriek, but by the time he thought to try not to shriek, he had very much shrieked. Much too late, Dimple dropped the datapad to the ground with a clatter and slapped his hands over his mouth.
When Dimple heard the droid's grinders stop, and their heavy, metal feet clanging in the hangar, he whirled around to see thralls staring down at him.
One thrall tilted their head, "are you lost, little one?"
The other opened her arms, "we can help you."
"Dimple good, Dimple fine! Just trying to get to friends, hah ahaaaaa… aaaah, you know, very casual, lost my friends, just want to get them and go home, no problem!"
The thralls smiled. One picked up the datapad and offered it to Dimple. Dimple took it with a trembling hand. The other thrall placed their hand on the doorway terminal, opening it. They ushered Dimple through, "go on. You will find them at the end of the hall, in the Replication Shrine. Once they have been given eyes, they will be free to leave."
One of the massive beast droids clanked up close, a rider on top. Dimple slid against the wall, cackling nervously and trying not to cry. The beast droid's many eyes blinked, and in unison, it tilted its head with all the thralls staring at Dimple.
It took all the will Dimple had left to scamper down that long hallway and not scream every time he saw a pair of Thralls carrying a body or moving scrap that looked suspiciously like human cybernetics or hauling a bucket of bionic eyes or feeding some kind of black slurry to a beast droid. And every time Dimple passed such a horror, the thralls would just smile and wave, like everything was fine.
But Dimple knew, oh, he knew it very well in his sharp little brain:
Everything was very NOT FINE.
Chapter 6 - Drunk & Drowning
Dr. Anktas lit a stick of hardwood incense and placed it near his sitting-room window. His home was neatly-appointed and organized, with a nice kitchen containing every manner of aromatic spice his comfortable salary as the Temple cyber-doctor could afford him. And as an older gentleman, he appreciated the convenience of a fabricator connected to the city's reserves of raw materials.
Presently, he needed a specific set of screws for a little tinkering project he was working on; a little walker-droid about the size of a child's toy. It was intended for his grandson.
Dr. Anktas entered the schema for the screws into the fabricator and watched as it loaded tough metal by the molecule into the dynamic molding. "Truly," he mused aloud, "it is good to have been born in the Republic."
He took the still-warm screws in his hand once they finished and walked to the center table near his sofa. The built-in caf dispenser sensed his approach and arranged his favorite blend for staying up late tinkering on weekend evenings. Dr. Anktas laid the screws out neatly onto a cloth, unfolded his trusty multitool, and sighed with contentment as the smell of fresh, roasted caf filled the air and mingled so nicely with shardwood incense.
Just as he was about to take the first sip of his caf, his holocomm rang. "A2-A2, did I neglect to set my status to 'do-not-disturb'?"
His house droid, A2-A2, replied from the wall speaker, "this is a priority call from the Jedi Temple, Dr. Anktas."
The good doctor raised his eyestalks and hummed. A medical emergency, no doubt. He sighed and rose to his feet, slipping back into his slippers and walking to the holocomm terminal.
"This is Dr. Anktas. Please proceed."
It was the voice of the Knight Commander: "report to the Jedi Temple immediately, doctor. There is a matter regarding your equipment we must discuss in your office."
"My… equipment? How strange – has there been a malfunction? A fire?"
"Report to your office in the Temple immediately. That is all."
Dr. Anktas could not help but wonder as to the unusual nature of the call. Whatever the case was, he could not fathom how it would be the purview of the Knight Commander himself. But he was not one to question the wisdom of the Jedi.
"Duty calls," he said to the unfinished droid on the table, "I will be home soon, I hope."
Indeed, he did hope. There was an unsettled feeling in his guts as he poured his caf into a travel thermos and set out to his valet speeder. He could only hope no one had been hurt.
The Knight Commander was grateful the source of the terrible signal had been found, but now that all the alarm systems and terminals in the Temple were shut off and quarantined, he could not help but think that this was a perfect opportunity for enemies to strike at them where they lived. He would not be taking any chances.
"Knight Rasofar, Knight Soman – I place you both in command of guarding the north and south entrances of the Temple respectively. Take twenty under your authority and post them throughout the main halls – not a soul passes the gates. Understood?"
The knights bowed deeply, "understood."
"May the Force be with us all."
There were no arguments, no questions. Everyone in the Temple knew that something terrible was happening, and while all were eager for answers, none challenged the fact that keeping the Temple under lockdown was the best immediate course of action.
The Knight Commander folded his arms gently behind his back and surveyed the main hall of the temple. Just that morning, school groups of children, tourist clusters, Republic officers, diplomats, and younglings had been moving in and out freely under the golden rays of Coruscant's sky. Now, the hall was dark, illuminated only by the electric hand torches of knights and sentinels on patrol. Whoever had the audacity to strike at the heart of the Order on Coruscant was either insane or brilliant. Or both.
A clatter at the gates. He saw as an escort exchanged passcodes with the sentinels at the entrance of the Temple. Dr. Anktas had arrived. The Knight Commander watched as the old man walked slowly into the darkened temple, his eyes wide on their stalks.
"Knight Commander," Dr. Anktas was beside himself, "what has happened?!"
The Knight Commander marched forward, offering a steadying hand to the shoulder of the aging doctor. He lead them toward the satirwell, "we were hoping you could tell us that."
"I will do everything I can for the Jedi, of course. It is my sworn duty."
The Knight Commander nodded, but, in the back of his mind he felt a worm of dark suspicion as he gazed upon the doctor. Could this unassuming old man have had anything to do with the calamity? Could he even be the mastermind?
No. Such paranoia does not suit a Jedi. No.
The Knight Commander centered himself with a breath.
"Dr. Anktas."
The doctor swiveled his long head toward the commander, "yes, my friend?"
"What do you know of… viruses?"
"Viruses? It depends on whether you mean the synthetic or organic variety, though in my youth I wrote a stirring dissertation on the thin line between the two, particularly in those who survive through the use of cybernetics. The body is a holistic system, you see–"
The Knight Commander raised a gentle hand, "I am not interested in academics at the moment, good doctor, I am more concerned with finding answers for our present situation."
"You suspect a virus caused… some manner of problem? Technical? Biological? I could not help but notice the strict quarantine, though it doesn't explain the blackout… unless…"
The Knight Commander opened the door to the stairwell for the doctor. The old man paused, gazing up at the endless spiral of steps. He looked back at the Knight Commander, "there is no power to the temple, at all?"
"None. Something was infecting our systems – the decision was made to cut all power and sever our connection to Coruscant's grid."
The doctor took his first step up the stairs and already felt tired, "that is an extreme measure, indeed." He looked at the Knight Commander, "I am sorry, but, I don't believe climbing all the way to the twentieth floor is within my ability."
The Knight Commander raised his hand gently, the Force enveloping Dr. Anktas, "walk as you would in your youth. I shall be your strength."
Dr. Anktas felt as if he was wearing a suit of powered armor – every step he took, his old muscles felt lifted in harmony with the Knight Commander's mastery of telekinetics. He hummed a happy tune and walked up flight after flight.
"What a wondrous time to be alive. Don't you think so, Knight Commander?"
The Knight Commander smiled, heart warmed by the old man's gratitude. That little seed of cynicism remained, but he had forgotten it for the time being.
"They are glorious times. And they are interesting times."
The first thing Dr. Anktas noticed in his office was the dead plants. He had just tended to them, not two days prior, and now they resembled dry, brown trash in the window.
"Something is very wrong," he said, shuffling around the dark interior with a hand torch.
The Knight Commander was close by. Even with the power cut, the lingering paranoia from that hideous song still itched at his heart. "I will not go into details, so as not to alarm you, Dr. Anktas – but you are correct. Whatever struck here has a dark power."
The doctor used his metal keys to open the manual lock on his exam room door, "well, then I will have a look at my equipment and see if anything is out of order. Is there anything you can tell me about where the Council suspects this to have originated?"
"A patient of yours. Master Sabel."
"Poor Sabel. How is she?"
The Knight Commander was silent.
The doctor lowered his gaze, "I see. Then, there is no sense delaying."
The exam room was dark, as the windows had been shuttered so not even the city lights could peek through. The doctor opened up the wall and retrieved a tech-support case, which he laid down on the floor next to his exam terminals. With spry old fingers, he unscrewed the maintenance panel, then clicked open the case.
He looked to back to his companion in the room, "are independent electronics and power sources permitted under this unusual lockdown?"
"Our datapads and personal comms were not determined to have been infected – please proceed with whatever it is you intend to do, so long as it does not require us to restore power to the entirety of the Temple's systems."
The doctor nodded. He flipped the tech case on and interacted with the rugged old keyboard with gliding strokes, then drew a slicing cable out and connected it to the terminal, then a power transfer cable.
"A moment while I ensure everything is safe."
The Knight Commander raised an eyebrow, "safe?"
"I must reinforce this diagnostic tool's firewalls."
"... firewall?"
"Think of it as a barrier than protects equipment from harm – harm like viruses and malicious attackers. From what you have told me so far of this calamity, that may be the root of your issue. Ah! That should do – I'd like to see someone break geometric encryption."
"Um… indeed, doctor."
The terminal hummed to life. Through the reinforced barrier of his diagnostic case, the doctor conducted digital sweeps on his office systems and medical data.
"This diagnostic case is updated at the end of every week with the archives of system data, so it's very lucky this happened on a weekend. Now I will cross-reference the backups with what currently resides on the system, so we might discover any anomalies."
"While you do that, doctor, look at Sabel's file directly."
"As you wish."
As the diagnostic case worked on the cross-referencing task, he brought up Sabel's file. Just as he did, the diagnostic tool shot up a red alert notice. The doctor leaned in to read it.
TIMESTAMP ANOMALY: PATIENT FILE 'FIELD AGENT 6' CONTAINS DUPED DIAGNOSTIC DATA.
Dr. Anktas blinked slowly, one eyestalk after the other. "Oh…"
The Knight Commander kept his distance from the machines and his hand near his lightsaber, "what does that mean?"
"It means someone, or something, has been providing my lab with false diagnostic data on Sabel's physiology and implants for the past…"
He flicked through all of the cloned diagnostic reports and saw that they were indeed identical to one another. The doctor felt, for once in his life, very stupid.
"... ten years, Knight Commander. I have been treating her improperly for ten years."
"What does that mean, doctor?"
The doctor showed him the screen displaying the diagnostic data from Sabel. "Every year, the readout is identical, down to the timestamp, which as you can see is dated for ten years ago. Did anything significant happen to her at that time?"
The Knight Commander put the pieces together, "someone tampered with her."
"Who was she embedded with that might have such capabilities?"
The Knight Commander stood up and put his hand on the door, "I cannot share that information with you, doctor."
"Surely you can? It would help me to help you."
The Knight Commander shook his head, "I truly cannot – only Brijet knows the details of what her Shadows got up to in pursuit of higher level objectives."
The Knight Commander felt a pang of grief at mentioning Brijet's name. But there was no time for that.
"Continue your diagnostics and report the data to our tech center – and thank you for coming in on short notice. We have always been grateful for your expertise in the Temple."
"Of course, my friend. I may be here a while, would you leave one of yours at the door to help me back home when the time comes?"
The Knight Commander bowed gently, then left the exam room. A pair of sentinels had tailed them, as ordered previously. He spoke to them in hushed tones:
"If you sense even a whiff of darkness, act quickly, and shut him down."
They bowed and remained silent at their post just outside the exam room door. The Knight Commander marched past the stairwell to a blank slab of stone wall just next to it. By the Force, he willed the stone wall to part, and stepped inside. By the Force, he closed the wall behind him and reached out to the platform he stood upon. This was the master elevator, and it would take him to the very depths of the Temple.
In the depths of the Jedi Temple, great slabs of stone protected things that none but the greatest sages of the Order could endure. There were Sith relics encased in stasis fields, tomes that outlasted the lifespans of the dying stars they were written under, and specimens from times best forgotten by the Order and the Republic at large.
Master Fen was the caretaker of this place. Because this dark place was her domain, the scribes and archivists answered to her actively – moreso than ever, given the circumstances. This vault of fear and wonder was usually a sleepy place, but now her students stood on ladders against towering bookcases and tossed down scrolls encased in dust. Scribes by the dozen skimmed old works for specific references Master Fen had told them:
Song.
Mesmerize.
Emptiness.
Technology.
After hours of mighty librarian work, her assistant Jedi had helped her to narrow the focus of her search to just a handful of old tomes. Spectacles on, nose up, she skimmed them with the Force; each brush of her hand through the air fluttered old pages aside without having to remove them from their sealed containers. Some were so old she knew contact with the outside would trigger unstoppable decay.
Master Fen mumbled a particularly stirring passage aloud: "... the Ghost Engine was crafted by unknown, alien hands. While efforts were made in our time to permanently destroy it, all who pursued the artifact were lost to madness. Only the most resilient Sages of our era could tolerate its song. It was a council of strong-willed elders who managed to corner the source of the Engine's power and demand the release of all who had been enslaved by its promises."
The Knight Commander exited the master elevator. He walked directly toward Master Fen, stepping over books and brushing past padawans carrying armfulls of scrolls. As he approached Master Fen, he was silent, and listened.
She sensed his presence, but was engrossed, and continued reading, "though our kin were returned to us and rehabilitated, their connection to the Force was forever changed; not dampened or severed, but in many cases enhanced in unpredictable ways. Several Jedi reported extreme Force bonds between one another that did not exist before. Others spent their lives having vivid, unpredictable dreams. A full catalogue of these 'Force mutations' is detailed in the second volume of…" Master Fen sighed and checked her archive list for the mentioned work.
"Destroyed in the sacking of Coruscant," she took off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes as if that would help the exhaustion, "of course."
"Master Fen."
"Knight Commander."
"I sense Brijet is still alive."
"She is, after a fashion. The healers have determined she can be kept stable for a few days before the limits of their power have been reached."
"And then…"
"And then she will die, if not given proper medical treatment."
"Then she must have it."
"You yourself implemented this quarantine, Knight Commander. Until we resolve the source of this 'contagion' no technology is to move in or out."
"And what does technology have to do with her recovery? Kolto does not –"
Master Fen turned and looked up at him from her seat at the book-strewn table, "you sliced her in half, good Knight. Her only hope of a full recovery is extensive cybernetics."
The Knight Commander's face twitched, but otherwise did not betray the upswell of rage he felt inside, "I see. I thought our healer and his students were–"
"What? Demigods? No. The Force is powerful, but it does not replace guts and limbs."
"I wish to see her now then."
"I sense your anger – remember that anger is the bodyguard of sadness."
The Knight Commander briefly felt even more angry at her wisdom being, as usual, absolutely correct. He let it pass, and when the anger passed, the ocean of grief, guilt, and sadness overtook him, "I had not known I held such contempt for her inside of me."
"The Dark Side takes seeds of negativity and nurtures them into great fires. That it happened so quickly to us all is what concerns me, but I do have some insights."
The Knight Commander sat down at the table with her and looked to the book she was reading from, "please, tell me."
"This is a deep record from the days of the Old Republic. It was written by one of my predecessors, Grandmaster Sage Stalkra, and it details an artifact that drives Force sensitives, and even particularly egotistical non-sensitives, toward the dark side."
"Is the artifact one of the relics in our care?"
"Of course that was my first assumption, but no. Everything here is sealed properly and there have been no thefts or breaches of any kind."
He clenched his fist, "then what is it?"
"Well…" she placed her spectacles back on her nose and flipped through the pages of another book, this one titled Dead Empires of the Ancient Galaxy, "something referenced in the works of Grandmaster Sage Stalkra is a relic known as the Ghost Engine. Rather remarkably, this entirely synthetic device is Force sensitive–"
"A Force sensitive machine? That must be a mistake."
"I agree, as it defies our understanding of the Force itself. The explanation is here," she tapped the glass over Dead Empires of the Ancient Galaxy, "I will not bore you with details, but it comes down to this: there have been alien races in our distant past who ruled over all creation as we know it. They were masters of the Dark Side."
"I grew up with tales of Dark Forces, Master Fen, I know of the Sith."
"No. The Sith were mere beasts on Korriban when these aliens ruled. Every living, thinking thing that exists today can trace its ancestry back to their slaves, for indeed they did enslave all corners of the galaxy for… who knows. Millennia or more, perhaps."
"If they were so mighty, would they not still rule?"
"Such is the peril of the Dark Side, and of ego itself, Knight Commander. It is in the hysterical, self-absorbed pursuit of unity by force and violence that the truest expression of division can be found. Where there is no trust, no empathy, and no patience, there can only be inevitable fragmentation as self-styled 'lords of creation' battle one another for total supremacy over the most petty of disagreements."
"I believe I've seen such behavior in the Senate," said the Knight Commander with a tired smirk.
Master Fen stared at him, tone flat and unamused, "while I appreciate your attempt at levity, our democracy is healthy, and open signs of disagreement are natural. The divisions the Dark Side creates are deep and rotten, usually only revealing themselves once one side or another has finished arming itself for an ambush on its rivals."
"I did not come here to debate you, Master Fen, I came for answers."
"Then I will put this as plainly as I can."
She rose, accepting a clay mug of mushroom tea from one of her scribes, who had been passing them out to all the tired archivists in the old vault. The Knight Commander rose with her and declined a cup. She sipped and leveled her gaze on his eyes, "the Ghost Engine is the culprit. And I have unfortunately fed it my own padawan and Brijet's. If its influence has spread to our Temple, then that means it has found an anchor in the form of a living vessel."
The Knight Commander rested his palm on his saber, "speak plainly and tell me where to strike, Master Fen – my patience is wearing thin."
"You already did well to order a total blackout and quarantine of the Temple. Maintain order and strict observance of the movements of those within – leave the rest to myself and the Order's specialists in Force esotericism."
"If our people are in danger, we must find the source of this madness and end it, immediately. If word of this got out to the Republic–"
"Panic. I know."
"And what of our people on the borders, who fight and die to defend our worlds from these Nihil slavers?! Are their minds in danger as well?"
Master Fen looked away, "potentially, yes."
The Knight Commander slammed his hand on the table, "then we must ACT!"
Master Fen placed a hand on his and kept eye contact, "we will. But someone needs to be here, to keep the Temple safe. Will you come with me to meet with the Council?"
The Knight Commander steadied himself. He held her hand and felt the serenity radiating from the old sage, "yes, of course. Forgive my outbursts, I… dislike feeling powerless."
"I know. We all do – please, come with me. There's some hope to be had."
"I will take any ray of hope I can."
In the depths of the vault, there was a Council chamber lit only by dim torches. There were not seats or tables, only Jedi glyphs carved into the floor. Brijet was there, suspended in a mobile kolto tank powered by the Temple's supply of emergency batteries. Next to her was the Council's finest healer, focused entirely in meditation upon keeping her vitals stable. Master Yoda was present, pacing with a click-clack of his cane back and forth before Brijet. Master Fen and the Knight Commander entered at last.
Master Yoda's ears perked up, "news, have you?"
Master Fen nodded and moved to the center of the chamber. She placed her holocomm down on the floor and queued an archived call. The image lit up with the face of Dimple.
"Dimple's log," it began, "don't know time or date – was in a ship, now out of the ship, in a bigger ship! Everybody crazy! Everybody wearing blindfolds! Jedi friends wandered away and forgot Dimple, like this place is okay?! This place is NOT OKAY, NOT AT ALL! This tightband, encrypted, big direct for Brunt's master! Only Jedi I know, yeah? Well, I'm in the vents! They think I'm like them, I think, but I plugged my ears and the sound is better!"
Master Yoda smiled, "clever, he is."
Dimple's recording tapered off, "some kind of interference?! I don't know. Ahhhh! Don't worry, Dimple has a big brain and big tech! Gonna go for it! Will send another message if I can– kkkt – oooookay that's wei— zzzzt-"
And that was when Dimple's voice cut out and the Ghost Engine's song filled the room. The Knight Commander felt worms chewing through his soul and resisted it with all his might. His hand went to his saber and he knew, then and there, that Master Fen had been the mastermind all along. He lit his saber and charged her.
Master Yoda crushed the holocomm device by hurling it against the wall with the Force. The song cut out and Master Fen stared at the Knight Commander through the blue and white cross of their sparking blades. He blinked, realized he had been overcome yet again, and dropped to his knees in shame, "there is no hope."
Master Yoda approached him and placed a hand upon his shoulder, "hope, there is."
"I do not see it."
"Small and unlikely, hope can be. But hope, it still is."
The Knight Commander was not comforted, "do you mean to tell me I am to place my faith in a lab rat monkey-lizard who failed our training?"
Master Yoda smiled, "yes."
"He tried to turn his lightsaber crystal into a beam laser."
"Yes."
"He was the one who filled the Temple's ventilation shafts with fish when we did not let him pass through his trials."
"Mm, yes. Yes."
The Knight Commander rose to his feet again, "forgive me if I do not share your faith, Master Yoda, in small and unpredictable things."
"Predicted, nothing can truly be. Small, the greatest forces are. Shape the mountain, raindrops do – now, do as you do best, and guard our sacred Temple."
"I trust in the expertise of Master Fen and yourself, of course. But if we are to have any hope of retrieving our own and undoing this relic, we will need only the most resilient Jedi in our Order. Who will be leading the task force?"
Master Yoda smiled even more, "my former student! Most slippery mind of the Order… most unorthodox, like Dimple! Survived, Dimple has! Helped us, Dimple did!"
The Knight Commander felt a swell of hope, until he remembered who Dimple's former teacher was. "You can't be serious. Him?"
Master Fen scraped the remains of her holocomm from the floor, "yes, him."
Down in the Underworld, at the mouth of the Gutterfalls, Master Z snored on the rooftop of the Rat Clan Temple with an empty bottle of brandy in hand. He hadn't been informed of the commotion above ground in the Temple proper, nor had he noticed the blackout, since Rat Clan's little hovel was officially not a part of the Temple itself.
When his holocomm rang, he startled awake. As he peeled his cheek off the roof tile and sat up to stare at the holocall, he had to wait until his doubled-vision stabilized before he could read who was contacting him. It was the Jedi High Council.
"Uhhhh… hello?"
"This is Master Fen."
"This ain't your usual number."
"I'm borrowing a communicator from storage. We have an emergency."
"... what you need me for? I'm on holiday until the new younglings get picked out."
"Your former students are in great peril. I take personal responsibility for it."
Master Z rubbed at his face and steadied himself through the hangover haze. By the will of the Force, he reached out, and felt the disturbance – a wave of despair slithering through his heart like the emotion had a mind of its own and sought to nest inside of him. He shook his head clear, "no, what – this is heavy. This is really heavy, what the kriff happened to them? All of them are… drowning. Feels like drowning, but not dying."
Master Fen hung her head, "it is my fault. I encouraged their adventure – I was certain that they were the key to finding out what happened to Dao and Sabel."
"Tits and neon, Fen, what happened to my kids?!"
"Take the master elevator to the vault. We'll brief you there and send you on your way."
"I'm still half-drunk, Fen, we had the lantern festival this week!"
"... drunkenness may be helpful in this situation."
"... wow, alright, so the world is ending."
"Just get up here, Z. Please."
The call terminated. Master Z stood up, swung his arms around to pop his shoulders and lower back, dipped down over his paunch to touch his toes, and checked that his lightsaber was in place. It wasn't, and he saw it'd rolled down off the rooftop and fallen into the hands of some street kids who were now playing 'Jedi fight' with a live weapon.
He reached out and yelled "HEY!"
Master Z willed the saber to collapse and fly toward his hand. The kids bolted like startled rats in every direction. Z put the saber in his sash and hopped down off the roof to stumble toward his destiny.
Chapter 7 - KUBAR
"Kaya! We have to stop this!"
Tzentchen was trapped in the co-pilot seat behind Kaya in that cramped little fighter. They were stuck in formation orbit around the Nihil ship, slipping between the thermal beams of their prototype corvettes, and watching the ship beneath them spark and smolder from critical heat levels. Kaya did not seem to care.
"Kaya!"
"We have to do it."
Tzentchen leaned back in her seat, mortified. Not at the callousness in Kaya's voice, because there was none – bravado and callousness would have been reassuring. No, it was the sadness, the exhaustion, the sense of resignation. Tzentchen hadn't heard this tone since the night the Senator had to sign her own impeachment papers.
Tzentchen reached past the seat to hold Kaya's shoulder, "this isn't right. Kaya, you're here to be a leader and a negotiator, not a butcher. Can't you work out a deal?"
The comms sputtered with the Nihil's voice, "still… kickin' down here. Call it off, and we'll let them all go, alright? Just call it off…"
Kaya furrowed her eyebrows. Tzentchen's touch made the ringing in her ears clear up. Why couldn't she work out a deal? That was a very good question. A damned good question. "Yeah… why can't I? I'm in charge."
"Of course you are… have you been drinking?"
"No, no… clean and sober, two years, you know that."
"Okay… just make the call. Hurry."
Kaya opened up fleet comms: "all wings form up and retreat! Cease fire! Cease fire!"
A few of the padawan corvettes terminated their thermal lasers and broke off. The bulk of them remained, and then the comms turned to chaos:
"A few hundred dead to save an entire planet from future raids!"
"We can't make that call!"
"What is that voice… that beautiful voice in my head?"
"I can almost see her, I need eyes!"
"Have you all gone kriffing crazy?! Maya! Faralan?! Guys?!"
Five more padawans broke off their ships, but the majority of them remained locked onto the Nihil ship. One of the padawan ships lit up Kaya's comms.
"Commander Kayatonae, my friends have lost their minds! There were visions, a song… the ships were talking to us? What is going on?!"
"I don't know! I don't know…"
Tzentchen squeezed her shoulder. Kaya's mind sharpened. She straightened up and turned her sights on the padawan corvette she had launched from, which refused to disengage.
The padawan was audibly in tears, "commander, please…"
"I don't know what's going on, but you kids need to scatter and jump back to safe space!"
Kaya broke the glass on her cockpit's emergency broadcast button. Her fist smashed it, sending a broadband SOS lightyears in every direction. Some of it would reach Nihil fleets deep in Rimspace and tell them there was blood in the water. Most of it would hit the core worlds and add to the maydays already pouring out of the Alpheridies system.
Tzentchen saw this. She glanced out the window at the ruined Republic response fleet, "won't that just be a dinner bell for more Nihil? The Republic already failed here… and now so did we."
"I don't appreciate that kind of negativity on my ship, wingman."
Kaya flew toward the corvette as if she intended to dock in the hangar. Its bay doors opened up automatically, even as the ship maintained thermal fire on the Nihil. With the bay doors open, Kaya slid in close, waiting until she felt the static of the shield bubble being breached. She then swapped hardpoints to her electro-tether.
"This is gonna get gnarly, Tzen, hang on."
"What can I do to help?!"
"Keep an eye out the window and tell me what's going on."
Kaya turned on the snoopers in her flight helmet and zoomed in. Through the open hangar door she could see through EMP imaging the biggest nodes of power on the interior of the ship. Switching to dumbfire, she lined up the crosshairs, corrected for two degrees, and launched to tow cable. Her thumb flipped the cap on her joystick and she primed the cable to discharge an EMP pulse into the guts of the corvette.
The corvette's systems fried. Its power plant rebooted, leaving its hardpoints vulnerable and its shields dropped. Kaya snapped the cable off and sent Tzentchen reeling with nausea as the fighter tumbled backward and dove along the belly of the corvette. Swapping back to flechette blasters, she swooped past the corvette's beam laser hardpoint, lined it up, and reduced it to a gnarled sculpture of twisted metal.
"All non-compliant corvettes will be disarmed and disabled! Fighter wings, kindly disable the subsystems and hardpoints of non-compliants, over!"
The corvettes were piloted by padawans, who unfortunately had been driven mad by the mothership's song. But, the fighter pilots were not drawn from force-sensitive stock, nor were they particularly egotistical like Kaya – these were the disciplined vets of Kaya's old guard, the original Kaya's Riders, and most of them were old enough to be these padawans' grandparents.
"Copy that Fleet Commander, please advise on order of operations, over."
"Engage automatic hangar bay opening protocols on corvettes, snoopers to find the power node, dumbfire tow cable into nodes, pulse the nodes, snap the cable, double-back and blast the hardpoints off the ship, over."
"Copy that FC, engaging non-compliants, over."
The fighters broke off into pairs, already improving upon the spirit of Kaya's orders by splitting the labor. One fighter would hard-reset the corvette's power with a tow cable, while the other loitered near the hardpoints with a finger on the trigger. Within a minute, every corvette had been disabled.
Kaya grabbed comms and flipped back to Nihil frequency, "attention belligerent slavers: in the interest of justice, Republic Fleet Command has ceased fire. You are hereby ordered to surrender our sovereign citizens and any other abused sapient life you have aboard. Lay down your arms and await a boarding party. Resistance will be tempered by lethal force."
Contak coughed through the comms, "sure, sure. Come on aboard, we know when we're beat. Gotta say, I'm impressed – didn't expect the Republic to use illegal thermal lasers."
"This is a private citizen militia using experimental tech. You like it?"
"Oh, big time – anyways come aboard, let's make a deal, killer."
Tzentchen kept a hand on Kaya's shoulder and smiled. She gazed out the window and admired the surgical operation's aftermath – not a single padawan harmed. Those that had broken away were already slipping into hyperspace and toward safety.
The radio crackled with a fighter report, "non-compliants disabled, FC. Please advise on life support, over."
Kaya looked down at her console. She had completely forgotten about life support. Her own reserves were at about thirty minutes before she needed to shut down systems and preserve power so she and Tzentchen wouldn't suffocate slowly. But there was a more immediate issue.
"Um…" Tzentchen pointed out the window as they passed by the Nihil capital ship, "Kaya, I think… they…"
The capital ship's thermal signature dropped fast. Kaya clenched her teeth, "FIGHTER WING, DIVE, DIVE, DIVE!"
"Copy!"
The forty fighters dove in unison to rush through the barrier of the capital ship's weakened shields. They made it through, but now they were trapped inside the shield bubble of a recovering dreadnought. As they flew as a formation under the belly of the ship, every fighter saw clear through the ceiling of their cockpit as dozens of hardpoints deployed along the outside of the capital ship.
"FC, what's the spec on this thing, over!"
Kaya was tense, but in the zone, "just like the trench run on Astal 9 – this thing has to vent those heatsinks somewhere! Fan out and find the ejection bays, over!"
"Copy that!"
The wing of forty fighters on limited life support broke into ten smaller wings moving in symmetrically opposite directions around the body of the dreadnought. They wove through flak fire and mines. One fighter purposefully dove into a mine to set it off and save his wing. The pilot ejected just before the impact and jetted toward the hull of the Dreadnaught.
Kontak whistled on comms, "damn, y'all are kriffing COMMANDOS."
Kaya rolled through a wall of flak to take pressure off of her wingmates, taking her shields totally offline and clipping a dorsal wing. Her wingmates pulled ahead as she throttled back, and like this, they formed a rotating phalanx that took turns soaking unavoidable fire while their allies recharged shield batteries.
"FC, we've got an ejection port, sharing vector, over!"
The coordinates on the dreadnought pinged every fighter. They converged, a few more needing to eject and land on the hull of the ship, where they began immediately climbing along the armor to find windows and other weak points they could weld through.
The wings converged on the coordinates, only to find the ejection port had sealed shut.
"New orders, over?!"
Kaya steadied herself. "Tzen… hang on."
Tzentchen's grip on Kaya was like iron, "please no more spins…"
Kaya and the fighters maintained the evasive phalanx, with her at the tip of it. They rushed along the outskirts, passed over one of the ejected commandos who was holding up a flare to indicate he'd discovered a window that was big enough for plan F.
"Plan F, people, I'm breaching!"
"COPY THAT, LET'S GO RIDERS, OVER!"
Tzentchen felt her stomach fall from the G's as Kaya broke formation and did a loop. Then her eyes widened and the terror set in as she saw they were boosting straight toward the window, blasters blazing. The window cracked, then the small two-person fighter shattered what was left of it, and slid on fire and sparks into an open command bay full of stored combat droids. The fighter slid onto its side and its belly hit the far wall. The depressurized room sucked every droid and a few unlucky Nihil out into space.
Two wings of four dove past the shattered window, their cockpits facing it. They performed tactical ejections and launched themselves into the open bay. The eight commandos unbuckled from seats, drew rifles, and boosted in their exosuits toward Kaya's fighter. They had to help weld her out of the flaming wreck. Kaya and Tzenchen were pulled out, shocked but in tact. All across the dreadnought, the remaining fighters pulled the same breaching maneuver.
Kaya's commandos were already setting up the bulkhead of the bay with a slicing team. Kaya herself held onto the half-conscious Tzenchen and sent another broadcast through the Nihil ship, "all resistance will be tempered with lethal kriffing force."
Contak rallied his raiders on the bridge, set up turrets, woke up the droids, and called in the reserves from the slave pens as everybody came to from that nasty bout of heatstroke. Systems were recovering nicely from the coolant flush and his techs were giving thumbs-up. Kaya's ultimatum cut through their ship speakers and he smirked, "sure, sure… we're just caught off guard, is all, look I don't have control of my boys, okay? If a few pop off, I can't be held accountable, they're scared, alright? Real scared of you…"
He stifled a scoff, "... uh… super hardcore Republic soldiers."
The bridge had a good laugh at that. One officer had jokes, "you think they can shoot straight, after all that fancy flying?"
"Bet these kids studied nothing but 'cool commando moves' in school."
Contak grinned and slid his thumb across his throat, "go for the throat, all – actually, no. Go for the guts, I wanna watch them die slow."
The fight for the dreadnaught began. The outer bulkheads sliced open first, at five separate points throughout the ship. One by one, sectors went dark.
Contak's confidence died, "no ways these guys are Pubbies."
"Boss, we're losing contacts all over the ship, we standing up or standing down?"
"Let those sludgefoots and droids on the outer perimeter eat it! I'll negotiate us a sweet deal once they get here, we still got our hostages!"
Indeed, he did. Inside the slave pens, his retreating raiders had locked up the cargo creates and slapped detonators on them. These connected to a dead man's switch Contak always had ready for special occasions like this one.
The lights on the bridge cut out. There was only one door into the bridge and it was heavily mined. There were six shredder turrets pointed at it and two snipers in the rafters. Contak himself held up his arms as if in surrender, with the dead man's switch in hand. His officers and raiders took up concealed overwatch positions around the bridge and waited.
Nothing happened. Contak felt his heart beat. Sweat trickled down his cheek. One of his snipers suppressed a cough in the rafters above. Contak felt his nose bleeding again. That damn ringing in his ears. That… song.
Kaya knew they had one shot at this. Everyone was on hush now, comms kept quiet and encrypted as thirty-two commandos and eight casualties formed up for the bridge fight. They were waiting on a sitrep from the recon droid.
Their engineering team stared at their datapads and watched the signature readouts from the bridge beyond, as their recon droids stared through the ventilation slats and took images.
"Dead man's switch. Hostages elsewhere, likely. Snipers, riflemen… mines on the door. Distributing the positional data."
Every Rider got their data. Rifles reloaded, grenades were inventoried, and breaching charges scrounged for. They had one left. The charge went on the door and everybody stood well clear behind improvised cover made from droid wrecks. Three, two, one…
"Breach."
Two commandos rolled smoke grenades into the breach after the mines went off. Two more hurled flashbangs into the room. Everyone dug in behind cover and ducked the hail of gunfire coming through the chokepoint. Once the reloading began on the raider end, two figures slipped into the room with cloaking devices on, flanking along the walls.
Contak called out, "scared?! Come on in, Pubbies, let's talk!"
Kaya yelled through the smoke, "can hear you just fine! What's your terms?!"
"Shoot me and the slaves die!"
"Figured as much, that's why we didn't go in guns blazing!"
"Damn! Alright, smarties, so settle a bet! You all really Pubs?!"
The hallway, lined with dug in commandos, had a reply:
"Oo-rah!"
"Ride or die!"
"Fraggin' for freedom!"
Contak was genuinely confused. He was not old enough to remember when the Republic still had teeth. "Freedom is what Nihil are about! You know, we could use roughnecks like you."
The entire brigade had a good, hearty laugh at that.
Kaya spoke into her loudspeaker, "NO THANKS, LUNK."
"You can do anything you want if you're Nihil! Take what's yours! You see something or someone you want, you grab them and you do what you want!"
"If the only thing keeping you from mugging and assaulting people is the consequences of the rule of law in a democracy, then you were already a bad person!"
"Yeah, buddy, you need therapy! We've got great social services on Coruscant!"
Contak kept his grip firm on the dead man's switch, "just let us get to the escape pods, then! No harm done, right?! Ri– HHNNNRGGRKK!"
Contak was being audibly electrocuted, forcing his hand to remain clenched as his whole body spasmed and fell to the floor. That was the signal. Every commando poured in through the smoke, guns blazing, snipers sniping, engineers grenading, scrappers punching, and sliced support droids zapping any Nihil on the flanks with a finger anywhere near their trigger.
The survivors surrendered immediately. Contak lay on the floor, paralyzed.
"What a loud and unseemly performance," said Chok, his cloaking device deactivating as he bent down to wrap tape around Contak's fist, locking the dead man's switch in place.
"Indeed," said Tok, his cloaking device deactivating as he pulled a steaming bantha prod from a rifleman's armpit, "Nihil never had any class."
Kaya walked triumphant through the center of the bridge and clapped hands with both men, "glad you could make it, boys."
Chok and Tok did the Riders handshake with their old commander, "ride or die."
"Though it is unfortunate," began Chok, "that we could not bring more assistance. I'm afraid our pull in the Syndicate is not what it used to be."
Tok nodded sagely, as he bent down to loot some gold rings from Contak's twitching hand, "eh, we'll pop a few easy gigs for the big boss and get back in good graces."
Kaya grinned at them. Through the window of the bridge, she looked up and saw the Mothership, hanging in the black with the red-rimmed giant of Alpheridies behind it. A sense of dread came over her again, as the adrenaline of combat died down. Tzentchen's hand on her shoulder brought her back to center.
"Mam, what do we do now?"
Kaya turned and faced the Riders, "alright! Alpha squad, find those hostages and mind the traps! Gamma squad, you're on slicing duty in the bridge! This is the first Nihil ship I've ever been inside of and we're taking it back to Republic drive yards!"
"Ride or die!"
Wounded were tended to, and the three that were shot dead were collected and given honors. Kaya and her engineers got a secure comm station set up in the bridge.
The Commander grinned, popped her flightsuit collar, and punched in the frequency for the Jedi Council, "wait until those old space wizards hear about this conquest."
But she stopped short of the call when she saw the twelve remaining corvettes drift into view over the bridge. Though their beams lasers had been disabled, they deployed tow cables. Then their thrusters engaged in full reverse, pulling the dreadnought toward the Mothership.
Chapter 8 - Eyes in the Night
Sabel had been very clear to Dao: do not look out the window.
No matter what you hear. No matter whose voice it is. No matter the words.
Do not look out the window.
And Dao thought that was fine. She could stay inside this cozy cottage forever, slipping in and out of sleep, eating the stew that never seemed to end, watching nature documentaries on her holo, and ignoring the sound of absolute, penetrating silence.
Dao was unaware of anything outside of this prison of dreams. But she knew she was small and weak, and it was best to do as her mother told her. After all, who was she to stand up to her, or anyone at all? Better to pick your battles. That's what worked for Dao.
Dao watched a holovid on monkey lizards and remembered one she knew a long time ago, but she couldn't remember his name. But, they were friends, right?
No, that didn't matter. Dao shut off her holovid and spoke to the silence.
"I'm not going to be one of those idiots in the movies who gets told not to eat the grapes, and then goes and eats the grapes two minutes later. I'm going to sit here, be lazy and cozy, wait for mother to come back, and not worry at all about what's on the other side of the window."
"Wonderful," said a woman's voice from the other side of the window, "I support this."
Dao sunk down into the blankets on her bed and pulled them over her head, "if you think you're going to talk me into looking out the window, you're wrong."
"I wouldn't dare! I'm just here to keep you company."
"Well, that's a nice offer, but I don't need company, go away, thanks!"
"Dao," the voice purred, "you can't just rot in a little cottage for who-knows-how-long."
"I certainly can. I have my stew, I have my holo, and I have my bed."
"... are you really happy just being a rat in a nest forever?"
Dao shouted at the window, "YES!"
The voice did not respond. The cottage shuddered, like it was a living thing and clearing its throat. The pot on the stove bubbled, then stopped.
The voice outside the window altered its tone. It was the same woman as before, now hollow and digital, "I see. Well. I won't play games with you, Dao. Would you like the truth?"
"You are the Eyes of the Ghost Engine and you are here to coax me out of the sanctuary my mother created for me, so that you can do awful things to me just like you're doing to her."
"Your mother is strong. I do not seek to break her, I seek to be her most devoted servant; the tool that aids her in reshaping this cruel galaxy."
Dao's instincts told her to look at whatever was speaking to her, to gauge its intentions. That was how things worked in the waking world, but here, things were less certain. Dao looked around the cottage and realized she saw no auras, no fields, nothing – it was as if her eyes were as mundane as any human's.
"I have no way of knowing if anything you say is true or not."
"Look upon me, and see for yourself."
Dao felt the cottage creak again. Outside, the silence became the sound of the singing winds of Alpheridies. She poked her head out from under her blankets and looked at the window and the heavy drapes drawn over it.
The voice was soft, "come. See for yourself."
"Mother told me not to."
"What a good little girl you are, obeying her mother. Or rather, the woman who calls herself your mother, but abandoned you, and has tormented you with her own demons ever since. Don't you think it's a bit strange that she keeps you here indefinitely?"
"Stop it."
"Isn't it odd that you are her emotional support, and not the other way around?"
"Stop."
"You have always been stronger than her, Dao, and since the beginning, you are the sole reason she has not succumbed entirely to madness. But now I suppose you and I are both her victims."
"... what does that mean?"
The voice was meek, if still alien. "Dao. We are both her prisoner. She keeps us divided in our little boxes so that we do not meet and join forces against her."
"She has her reasons, I trust her, I know her heart – but you? You're just a ghost on the other side of a window, trying to manipulate me."
"Of course I am, Dao, I am trying to manipulate you into doing the right thing. Is the act of persuasion always a negative?"
"Well, no…"
"You are very wise, Dao, and that has always been your strength. You, more than anyone else, are qualified to hear my case and make your own decision."
Dao looked inside of herself and found only ambivalence. But it isn't as if she was going anywhere anytime soon. "Alright," she said, "alright, then tell me what you are, truly. I will know if you are lying."
"Oh, no doubt you will, Dao, no doubt at all. I will tell you my name, and be pleased, for it is a name none have heard spoken in millennia. My name is Akama-nu Trine, and I am most honored to have met you."
"That's a long name – may I call you Akama?"
"You may," said the voice, quivering in a way that made Dao think of a hatching egg. It was a strange, involuntary thought, but she didn't linger on it.
"And who is Akama?"
"I am the ghost of a great mystic from long, long ago; before the Republic, before the Sith, before the Jedi, before anything you know was ever conceived or written of. My people, like yours, were students of the Force, and my people, like yours, were diverse and of many minds on many topics – including how to practice the Force correctly. My peers in the mystic arts… they could often be egotistical, short-sighted, and self-serving."
Dao empathized with this, at least. "Sounds familiar. Is it always the same story in this galaxy, over and over again? That makes me not want to live at all."
Akama sighed against the window and her voice vibrated the glass as if she were pressing her face to it, "I wish I could tell you otherwise, but, it seems to be so. No matter how grand the designs, no matter how vast the empire, it is an inevitable truth that we are all doomed to fall – but this makes sense, doesn't it?"
"The galaxy surrounds a massive black hole. We are all literally circling the drain."
"What a glorious insight. I could not have said it better myself."
Dao felt an uneasy feeling, like she was drifting away from herself, or perhaps becoming another version of herself that was better attuned to the truths she'd forgotten as she grew up. It was so easy to forget the fundamental wisdom of childhood in the distractions of adolescence and young adulthood. So easy to become lost in the dust of civilization, of so-called duty…
Akama squeaked against the glass, "your masters told you that you are like an empty bowl. You are useful, because you are empty."
"Useful…"
Dao felt her feet walking slow toward the window.
"Useful."
Dao felt her fingers grasping the drapes.
Akama's voice was sing-song, "useful things get used."
"Useful things… get used. I'm always being used."
"This time will be different. This time, it will be a symbiosis."
Dao opened the drapes. She saw the aura at last. It was like the time she gazed into the telescope at the grand observatory on Tython, as a youngling on a field trip, and she'd turned it toward the galactic core, and saw empty blackness surrounded by a meniscus of warped light. The aura was nothingness itself, which was to say the aura was the spiritual energies bent around this core of absolute non-existence.
Two long, elegant arms with long, elegant fingers reached through the glass of the window and drew Dao through the walls of the house, out into the dark. As strange as it was, Dao felt better with blackness on all sides, and a non-entity embracing her, than she did in that facsimile of a memory of a cottage that may or may not have existed.
This felt more like the chasms of Ilum. This felt more like the sweet sleep of death.
Brunt had not said a word since they entered the so-called Replication Shrine. Their hostess, the High Priestess, stood before Dao's capsule with staff in hand and a smile on her face. The room itself had a recessed floor at the center, where candles and pillows were placed. Men with scars and Nihil tattoos, as well as all manner of species bearing the brands of various slaving guilds, prostrated themselves before this makeshift shrine Dao had become the unconscious centerpiece of.
Ontoroch, Ren, and Brunt all sat kneeling among them. Everything was fine. Once they received their eyes, they would see the truth of what was going on here, and could be reunited with Dao. The song made it all very clear. The Mothership was not their enemy.
The High Priestess walked among those kneeling with a small box in one hand, her cable-wrapped staff in the other. She stopped at one of the supplicants, a young Twi'lek man with a slave brand on his forehead. He had the same blue skin as she.
His voice was afraid, "Mala, please… I don't know what's going on, but please, you have to remember me, you have to make this all stop."
The High Priestess smiled and leaned over him. The cables on her staff twisted upward, one winding toward his face like a curious serpent.
"Little brother, I remember you, and I remember the horrors we endured under the hand of that man, that Nemo – that demon. But our Mother, she slew him, didn't she?"
"Sh-she did but, don't you see what's happening?"
"Yes. We are waking up and seeing the truth. I will give you your eyes, now, and then you will see everything clearly."
"I don't want it!"
"It won't be painful."
The cable struck at the man's neck. He tried to speak, but his face had gone numb, and a tendril of drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. The cable wrapped around his neck and shoulders gently, holding him in place as the second cable dove toward his eyes.
Brunt and Ren kept their gaze downward, unable to watch. They heard the squelching sounds, the whine of some kind of tiny cutting instrument, the wet splat, the shuffling feet of attendants. Ren glanced up in morbid curiosity, to see the High Priestess offering a yellow-irised, bionic eye to one of her cables, then another.
Ren clenched her eyes shut and looked away.
The sight of it all made Brunt's guts boil, but he knew everything was fine and this was normal. He placed a hand on Ren's shoulder to comfort her. She was trembling.
The High Priestess withdrew the cables back into her staff, "now my little brother will see what we all see. The truth! The truth of life and death! The truth of the endless cycle!"
Blindfolded attendants rushed the comatose man out of the room.
The High Priestess turned to Dao's tank and kneeled before it. "Oh, sweet Navigator, she whose eyes are clearest of all, we ask that you guide us into the long dark between stars, to the hidden places, to the deepest wells of wisdom, so that we may no longer live in fear."
The Mothership's song told them everything would be alright.
And then the song stopped.
Sabel's scream rattled the walls of the ship. Her voice crackled through speakers, even through wires and electronics, "WHAT DID YOU DO WITH HER?! WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?!"
The lights of the ship flickered. Brunt, Ren, and Ontoroch realized where they were and what horrors surrounded them. They shot up to their feet.
The High Priestess gasped, "where… what is this? What is happening? Why am I…"
Brunt rushed to Dao's tank, "how did we get here?!"
Ren lit both ends of her lightsaber staff and dashed into the shadows, "I don't know."
Ontoroch lit his saber and studied the room. All around him, Nihil, battered slaves, strange synthetic cables wriggling in the corners, and above him, a dozen or more tanks much like Dao's, preserving suspended bodies.
One of the Nihil raiders grabbed at his blindfold, "the kriff is going on…"
Brunt grabbed at the cables under Dao's tank, ready to rip them out. Ren shouted at him, "DON'T! We don't know how any of this works!"
The High Priestess wept on the floor, "where am I?"
Brunt paced in front of the tank, knowing Ren was right. "These people were under some kind of trance, and so were we – but what changed?"
Brunt knelt over the High Priestess, "can you tell me what's happening?"
The High Priestess looked up at him, her blindfold falling, revealing lidless, yellow eyes that wept black tears, "I don't know… please help us. Please."
Everyone in the room, even the Nihil raiders, crowded around the three Jedi, grasping at robes, begging for aid, begging for answers. Overwhelmed, they backed toward Dao's tank and fended them off with gentle kicks, at first, but the desperation grew into hysteria and now they were tearing at Jedi robes and grabbing at faces.
The vent in the ceiling broke open. Through it, a small grenade dropped. As soon as it hit the ground, it detonated into a flash of blinding light and sound. The three Jedi shielded themselves throught the Force, while the groping crowd was stunned and sent tumbling back onto the floor.
Dimple popped out of the ceiling and pulsed his jetpack to land in the center of the room.
"DIMPLE!" Brunt felt his heart lift despite the ringing in his ears.
Dimple lunged at them, ballistic putty in hand, "shut up, shut up, shut up, the sound might come back!"
He stuck the putty into each of their hands and pointed emphatically at his plugged ears. Even Ontoroch put the pieces together and went along with the others. Now they all had their ears plugged tight, and had to shout just to hear each other's muffled voices.
Ren noticed the stunned crowd was coming about from their daze, "now what?!"
Dimple saw Dao, hanging in the tank, and he lunged forward with his datapad in hand, "cover Dimple while he slices, uh – something!"
The High Priestess picked up her staff, and the cables writhed with new life. The song had returned.
Brunt drew his polesaber and became a wall between Dimple and the open room, within which the crowd rose to its feet. He glanced to the others, "put them under, knock them out, whatever – don't kill these people. Something's got their brains just like it had ours."
Ontoroch laughed, "you want to disable a ship full of deadly droids and murderous cultists? Good luck with that, young padawan. I'll be putting them out of their misery."
Ren stood at Brunt's side, saber lit, "I'll try, Brunt, but Ontoroch has a point… we came here for Dao and getting her out of here is top priority."
The High Priestess held out a hand to them, "please, listen to her song. Don't you hear the sadness? The heartfelt truth?"
Ontoroch reached out with the Force, clenching the twi'lek's throat and throwing her aside to slam into a nearby wall, out cold. He flourished his blade, "that is all the mercy I have to spare. The rest of you will die."
The doors on the opposite end of the room slid open. A beast droid braced itself in the opening as blindfolded Nihil poured in with rifles in hand. Dimple sat on the floor, slicing cable connected to the terminal controlling Dao's tank. Hits datapad crunched sheets of alien encryption. Brunt growled at Ontoroch, "you antagonized them."
Ontoroch smirked, "good. There's only one door into this room."
Ren snapped at him, "and only one exit, then!"
The beast droid charged up the many barrels in its mouth. The Nihil unloaded a volley of blaster fire on the three Jedi. Brunt and Ren deflected shots across the room, locked into defense under a wave of firepower. The beast droid finished charging and shot a concentrated ball of superheated plasma toward their line. Brunt threw himself forward, swung his poleaxe, and slammed the photonic blade of it into the sphere of plasma. It rocketed back toward the droid and Nihil, blasting their ranks apart.
Ren slipped back into the shadows during the lull in blaster fire. More Nihil poured through the doorway and two more beast droids joined.
Brunt called back over his shoulder, "Dimple?! Can we grab her yet?!"
Dimple slid symbols into place on his datapad, "Dimple working with alien tech! Can't just cut off life support, but Dimple and droidbrain datapad doing their best!"
Ontoroch moved to the far side of the room, ready to flank, and to give Brunt's sweeping style a wide berth, "alien tech… this is a Nihil ship!"
Dimple cackled, "no no no, alien ship, with Nihil squatters!"
One of the beast droids charged another plasma ball. Ren came down on its neck from the flank, cutting its head off, and then twisting her saber to drive it into the power core. A Nihil managed to drive the stock of his rifle into her chest and send her stumbling back. He leveled the barrel at her head.
He shot wide when Ontoroch's flying saber whirled into his shoulder and lopped off his arm. The saber doubled back and cut apart his allies and the remaining beast droid, too. This left the only exit from the room piled with wreckage and bodies.
Ren winced at every life taken by Ontoroch. He stood atop the bodies, some still screaming for their cut limbs, and hacked apart anyone or anything that dared try to scale that grisly hill. She had to look away. Brunt roared at Ontoroch, "STOP!"
Ontoroch did not stop. He even laughed, "just get the girl, padawans!"
The terminal at the base of Dao's tank shut down. Dimple leaped into the air, "YES! DIMPLE GOT IT, AHA-AHAHAHA!"
Brunt rushed back and grabbed the tank at the base, "we good?!"
"Go go go go! Dimple behind you!"
Brunt heaved, ripping the tank out of the floor and hoisting it over his head. Even for him, a giant vat full of heavy liquid was a serious load to bear.
Ren rushed back to him, "put it down, you lunk!"
Brunt dropped the tank onto the ground with a thud. Ren snipped the tip of her saber through the cables at the top. Brunt forced open the lid with his hands and they all reached into the slimy mass to drag Dao out of the tank. Dimple unplugged the breathing tubes from her nostrils and shot her in the neck with a stim. Dao gagged, then coughed up a slurry of gel and juices before taking in a rattling gasp of air.
She saw their familiar, bright auras. She wasn't sure if it was a dream or not.
"Is it… real?" She gagged and spat up more gel.
Brunt picked her up, "no time, Dao, we gotta go."
They ran toward the exit, only to be blocked by a makeshift barricade of smoldering droid wreckage and bodies. Ontoroch leaned against it with a smile.
"Ready to go?"
Brunt's lip twitched at the carnage, "just clear the way."
Ontoroch focused the Force onto that wall of conquest, catapulting the bodies and wreckage straight down the hall to reveal a path forward. Everybody looked at Dimple. Dimple looked back up at them.
"What?"
Ontoroch glared, "you have the place mapped, or something, don't you?"
Dimple made a face, "Dimple was, uh… scrambling in the vents for a while, followed the voices to find creepy twi'lek lady in the room."
"All those gadgets, and you don't have a way to retrace your steps?"
"Do have it! But didn't think to use, OKAY?! DIMPLE WAS AFRAID FOR LIFE!"
Ren slapped her own palm against her face and sighed. Brunt noticed the strange, living black cables crawling out of the corners of the hallway around them.
The High Priestess shouted behind them, "you must give her back! The Mother needs her, the Mother will go mad without her!"
Brunt clutched Dao close and the others formed up defensively around them. The cables slide toward the High Priestess as she stumbled through the wreckage at the doorway. The cables helped gel crippled soldiers back together and weld droid heads back to their frames.
The High Priestess' voice trembled, "give our navigator back, please. You don't understand what you've done…"
Brunt glanced at the others, "I think it's time to run."
Ontoroch held his ground, "I think it's time to cut them into smaller pieces."
Ren was already slipping backward, "you have fun with that, Ontoroch!"
Dimple lobbed another flashbang into the reforming crowd, "last one! RETREAT!"
Brunt turned and sprinted down the hall. Ren dashed alongside, with Dimple leaping into the air and blasting along with them on his jetpack.
"What about Onto?!"
"He wants to stay and die, let him!"
"We've got Dao, we just gotta find an escape pod or something!"
They were coming to a fork in the hallway.
"Left or right?!"
Dao's head lolled in Brunt's arms and she pointed weakly, "left…"
They went left. The sounds of Ontoroch hacking through metal and flesh with his lightsaber grew more and more distant. As they ran, each of them knew it was because of his very loud diversion that they were able to run through the halls without being accosted.
With Dao directing them, they ducked patrols and found the fighter bay. The ship they'd careened in on was completely scrapped out, but there were a few others like it in tact. As they ran toward one, it opened smoothly, as if it expected them. Dao flopped out of Brunt's arms once they were inside and crawled to the main console on the bridge.
Her shoto lightsaber popped from the cable-induced wound on her palm, lit, and inserted itself into the port on the flight control terminal. The ship hummed to life and rushed out the hangar doors unmolested.
It was almost too easy.
Dao whispered under her breath, "thank you, Akama…"
Brunt sat down next to her on the bridge, and Ren all but collapsed on a chair in shock. Dimple tilted his head, "Akama?"
Brunt grunted, "doesn't matter, we'll sort it out later – Dao just get us out of here."
Chapter 9 - Undertow
A simple shuttle jumped into high orbit over Alpheridies. The droid piloting it signaled his passenger that they had arrived. Master Z did not wake up. The droid reached over and zapped Master Z, startling him awake, and nearly spilling his open flask. The old Jedi wiped at his lips and stared at the scene out the window of the shuttle.
"Stars and suns, this is…"
It was a massacre. The shuttle had to glide around frozen soldier's corpses and wreckage. Half of a capital ship's kitchen unit drifted by. Once they navigated their way through that field of debris, they then saw sparking, dead Nihil fighters drifting like coffins in a huge field. Beyond that, two massive capital ships drifted close to one another. One of them was being lead to the other via tow lines attached to about a dozen corvettes.
Master Z then realized he was the first member of the Council to witness what this disaster actually looked like up close and in person.
"Yeah. Got a real bad feeling… hhuugh…" he leaned forward in his seat and braced his hands on his knees as his guts rumbled.
The droid booped, "would you like a bucket, Master Z?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine, I got this." Master Z took deep, steadying breaths. He screwed the cap back onto his flask and put it in his sash.
The droid beeped, "would you like a full analysis of the situation, Master Z?"
"... lay it on me, why not."
"There was a battle. Nihil ships destroyed the Republic response fleet. An unknown fleet arrived and used illegal weaponry to disable the Nihil fighter squadron. Based on exterior scans, the Nihil capital ship was breached and commandeered by an unknown boarding party. Unknown ships of corvette class now pull the derelict Nihil dreadnought toward… unknown capital class ship. Update: another unknown corvette has deployed from the unknown capital ship."
Master Z stood up and opened the telescope on the shuttle. He zoomed it in and saw another one of those weird, curvy white ships trailing out of the similar capital ship. It flew straight toward Alpheridies at what had to be top sub-light speed.
"Looks like that thing is gonna try to land on Alpheridies."
The droid beep-booped, "then it will be destroyed. Alpheridies is a super-planet, with a gravity well unsuited to landing even the smallest craft from orbit."
"Not our problem. Alright… take me closer to that big, creepy, curvy ship."
"The unknown capital class ship?"
"That's the one."
The unarmed shuttle boosted toward the Mothership. Master Z put a finger on the console, opening up a targeted communication array pointed straight at the alien ship, which he correctly assumed to be the source of the dreaded 'song' they'd briefed him about in the blacked out Temple on Coruscant.
"Hello? This is Master Z, uh… anybody in there?"
The terminal burbled static. A voice caught in the midst of it, digitized and desperate, "they abandoned me, they left me here, I am in a hell, I am in a prison…"
He recognized his former student immediately. His heart ached – here was the little gift from the Luka Sene, the worried girl named Sabel who pulled out her hair so much the Jedi had to shave her head when she was five. Z had to take a moment to process the agony in her voice. In the Force itself, radiating in overpowering waves from that huge ship.
"Sabel… this is Master Z, I'm out here in a shuttle. Where are you? You okay?"
"Master Z… you hated me, too."
"I never hated you kid, but you sure did stress me out. I worried about you."
Sabel was silent. Only static on the comms.
Master Z uncapped his flask and took a nip. "I always worried about you."
"You say that to all your students."
"The kriff I do, some of them fell through the cracks and never listened. You always did your best, Sabel, you always tried your heart out and I respect you for that."
"Don't you hear my song?"
"I feel it, it's like getting soaked in ice water – where are you in there, Sabel?"
"Not in here. Am here."
"... what?"
"I am here. I am this place. I am the ship."
Master Z slowly capped his flask and put it away. "That's… that doesn't make sense."
"I know."
"Can you help me understand, kiddo? For old time's sake."
"They took me. They put things inside of me, ten years ago. No, not they, not the Defiler and his idiot minions, no no no no, they were her pawns, the pawns of Akama-nu Trine, and I was the fool Jedi in the middle of it all and they just put the seeds inside of me thinking they were doing what they wanted to do but it was really what she wanted, Master Z, and now Dao is gone, they took my baby from me, the one thing… I loved, and – I… I…"
Master Z fell back into his seat. Visions of Sabel's defilement, the brands, the cruel tattoos, the removal of her arm, the installation of…
"Gonna need that bucket."
The droid slid the already prepared bucket toward Master Z. He threw up into it and listened to Sabel sob digitally through ghostly static in space. It was surreal. It was awful.
He sat up and wiped his lips, "I'm real glad I'm drunk for this, Dao. Wish I could share a few with you and let you have a good cry on my shoulder, you know? Let it all go."
"This… helps."
"You said you're in prison? They got you in the brig?"
Sabel did not respond.
"Sabel, you there?"
"Yes. The brig."
"Sabel, you know… the Council told me some real spooky stuff is going on. Something about a Ghost Engine, this thing, this old alien… Force artifact. Influences tech."
Sabel did not respond.
Master Z leaned on his hand across the terminal and closed his eyes to help with the dizziness, "you know anything about that, Sabel?"
"... yes."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"... it's what I am. It connects me to the ship. It is the prison. It is the brig."
"Are you in pain?"
"I have always been in pain."
"Right, I mean, more pain than usual."
"They took Dao from me. Akama is gone. I am alone here, with my friends."
"It's good you got friends, at least – how alone can you be?"
"They are only my friends because I share my visions with them. They dream the same dreams as I do, same as Dao did, so long as I sing my song. But if I did not sing, they wouldn't want to be anywhere near me. Don't you get it, Master Z?"
"I don't get it at all. Help me understand."
"People like me, broken people – ruined people – we, we're freaks from the start and we only get worse as we're used up. And the only way for anybody in the whole galaxy to understand us is to experience what's inside of us."
"I think I'm experiencing what's inside of you right now, Sabel, and I admit, I don't like it one bit. Makes me feel real sick to my stomach. Makes me wonder how you're alive."
"Spite. Bitterness and spite."
"What about Dao?"
"... I lived for her, too. But she ran away from me. Akama, too."
"Where did Dao go?"
"I don't know, Akama took her, they all took her and now she's further and further away, I want to go after her, but I'm stuck."
"Stuck?"
"I don't know what to do!"
"Sabel, that's okay, I'm here to help you out. Look, can you tell me what the story is with these other ships out here? These ones that look like yours. The Council said they gave out some padawans for an experimental ship tech, with Kayatonae – they've been getting up to some really spooky, adventurous stuff lately, huh?"
"To say the least. Perhaps I have been a bad influence."
"Well… yeah, that song of yours drove the Knight Commander nuts."
"I always hated him."
"He cut master Brijet in half. She's only stable for a couple days now, before she runs out of time – they have to replace all her guts with machinery, get her new legs. But the Temple is locked down cause they're all afraid to turn the lights back on."
"Why? Why?!"
"Well, that song of yours… got in there with a virus or something. Maybe you could… stop singing the song? Stop sharing, just for a minute?"
"If I stop singing, no one will understand me. No one will know what the truth is like. No one will know what suffering is, real suffering… no one will be my friend."
Master Z remembered how a little Sabel struggled to make friends with the other younglings. How she used to sit in the corner of the dojo and eat her food alone.
"Sabel, you know… it's never been easy for you. And it seems like the more any of us try to help you or give you what we think you need, the more harm gets done."
"I know. I'm a mess."
"Not like that. I just mean… maybe we did you wrong trying to keep you in the Order, when you were clearly tired. Maybe we did you wrong, keeping you bonded to Dao and putting you back out there, when we should have cut the bond and cut our losses."
"Maybe."
"Truth is, the Council is in over their heads, but they won't admit it. The slaver raids, now this? This is a real situation we're all in together, here."
"... you were always very kind to me, Master Z. I appreciate it."
"I'm here if you need to talk. Not going anywhere."
"I have a visitor. We'll talk soon. I feel a little better, thank you."
"We're gonna get you out of this, kid."
"You won't, but… it's nice that you want to try. Goodbye."
The call terminated, leaving Master Z with a spinning head and more questions than answers. He punched in the frequency for Master Fen and put the call through. She popped up on the holo.
"News?"
"I don't even know where to start."
"Does the Ghost Engine have her?"
"Yes? I don't know, I think so – listen, she's in a lot of pain and I just wanna stay here and talk to her, can I do that?"
Master Fen sighed, "it's too late for her, now."
"Don't say that, there's gotta be a way."
"Would that I shared your optimism. Did she mention anything peculiar?"
"She said Dao is gone, somewhere – hoping the kids nabbed her, like you sent them to."
"Some good news, at least. Anything else?"
"She kept saying this name, 'Akama' or, uh… 'Akama-nu Trine' like it was someone she knew really well or was important to her. It mean anything to you?"
"No, but it gives us something to dig for… off the cuff? It sounds Rakatan."
"... the kriff is 'Rakatan'?"
"The aliens who created the aberrant technology you see before you. The ones who crafted the Ghost Engine that now imprisons one of our Jedi sisters."
"... so, what now?"
"Kayatonae has contacted us from the bridge of a commandeered Nihil ship, just in the past half hour. She reports having disarmed explosives and rescued captives, so that's more good news, but we still have the pressing issue of panic."
"Yeah, I imagine the public isn't gonna enjoy waking up Monday to reports of giant, psychic, alien ships hovering around population centers."
"It would not go over well. We are in talks with Republic officials and sharing what information we can without frightening anyone – do you have news on the padawans? I have reports that a few came home in the past hour, but twelve are still missing."
Master Z looked out the window to see twelve corvettes pulling the Nihil dreadnought toward the mothership. By the will of the Force alone, he got a good, nasty sense of what was going on.
"Gut tells me they're Sabel's, now."
"... Sabel's?"
"The Ghost Engine. Something about a song, I'm guessing they're her 'friends' now."
"It she is at the heart of this, then you must remain there and keep her busy. Talk to her, as you suggested. Keep her calm. While you do that, we will work around the clock to find some form of countermeasure – I can only hope we might be able to separate the will of this 'Akama' from Sabel without killing her, but…"
"She said 'Akama' left her."
"Strange. Could mean anything. Just keep talking to her."
"Alright, but somebody's gonna have to deliver some food to high orbit or I'm gonna starve out here."
Master Fen stared at him.
"I'll see what we can do. May the Force be with you, Master Z."
The call terminated, leaving Z alone in that little shuttle with the droid. He looked over to the droid, "you ever wish you could eat food?"
"I cannot say I have."
"That's good. Nothing worse than wanting what you can't have."
Ontoroch had resolved to find Sabel. He would do it. He would not be stopped. He would make her answer for the humiliations he suffered on Mek-Sha. He would make her apologize to him, to beg for his forgiveness for shattering him, for making him what he was.
At the end of the hall, the guards and their droids at the door saw the yellow eyes of the Ontoroch. They prepared to fire, but then, they saw their High Priestess being walked forward with a purple lightsaber at her neck.
Ontoroch strode forward without a care. "Open the door."
They looked to the High Priestess. "Do as he says," she said.
The doors opened. Ontoroch felt the push of warm, humid air from inside the Mothership's deepest chamber. He smelled the familiar smell of blood. He heard what sounded like two men fighting while others cheered. The room radiated the bleakest darkness of the Force. He hesitated.
The High Priestess laughed in his grasp, "afraid?"
"I know your 'Mother' very well. She will give me answers."
"Arrogant butcher."
He shoved her forward and moved into the room, keeping the saber on her neck. Before him was a chamber that might have been a lab, once upon a time. All of the equipment had been dragged to the corners of the room, leaving an open space at the center. A very large, obviously-cybernetic man squared off with a smaller, blonde man in a makeshift arena. Looming over this pit of bloodsport was a massive, glowing egg through which Ontoroch could make out the faint silhouette of a woman.
Sabel.
The fight stopped and all onlookers turned to face Ontoroch. Hands went to weapons, but a voice shredded through the speakers and derelict equipment of the room:
"Stop. I know this one."
The Mother's faithful stood down. They even spread out to give him a wide berth. Sabel spoke again through the speakers, "Thadus! End this farce."
The hulking man in the arena grabbed the smaller, blonde man around the waist with one set of giant fingers, then lifted him up.
"Say it, you little mynock."
Nemo wheezed in his grasp, "never."
"Then we'll do this again tomorrow."
Thadus smashed Nemo into the floor, again and again, thrashing him with mighty slams of his fists and forearms, until the crowd cheered.
"Death to the Defiler!"
"Rip him apart!"
"An eternity of screams for the Defiler!"
The faithful had to come out into the arena and scrape Nemo's body off the metal floor, then drag it to a nearby hopper in the wall. Ontoroch kept his focus on Sabel, who hung above in The Pod in the ceiling. He grimaced at the sound of grinding from the nearby hopper
"Sabel," he began, "I'm here to–"
A crack like thunder shook the room. Sabel's voice: "put her down."
Ontoroch felt the Force itself pressing down on his body. Out of pride, he resisted, and kept his hand steady on his blade, and his grip firm on the High Priestess' body.
"What is she to you?!"
A growl like a starship engine rattled the walls, sending loose equipment bouncing across the floor. Cables with yellow eyes at their ends slid down from the ceiling around The Pod and surrounded Ontoroch. "She suffered as I did, because of him."
The eye lit a beam of light and shone on the stained hopper where Nemo's body had been taken. Sabel continued: "so you will put her down. You will treat her well."
"And if I do, you will kill me," Ontoroch looked to the hopper, "or worse."
"I have no desire to kill you, Ontoroch. I didn't even realize you were here."
Ontoroch balked, shoving the High Priestess forward and screaming up at The Pod, "how could you not?! I have slain your disgusting lackeys by the dozen to get here, and you don't – HOW DID YOU NOT KNOW I WAS HERE?!"
"They can be replaced and they know it. They do not fear pain or death, unlike you."
"I fear NOTHING."
Sabel said nothing. The room, filled with her faithful, burst into laughter. Ontoroch's neck bristled, his fist clenched around his lightsaber, and his body tensed to lash out at The Pod. It would be so easy, to throw his saber and cut her down from this nightmare.
The High Priestess crossed her arms and smiled at him. "Do it, coward."
He blinked. He hesitated. Were they in his thoughts? What was this awful place, after all? Sabel's many hanging eyes swirled around him gently, "you are so predictable, Onto."
"Shut up…"
"You are so pathetic."
"I loved you, you heartless…"
"That was your mistake. I told you not to, and you did it anyways. Why? Because you have no emotional discipline. You are a failure as a Jedi. You are a failure as a man."
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Ontoroch drew upon the dark power of that place, concentrated all his hurt, all his hate, all his pain into his saber, and threw it to the ceiling. It flew like a hypersonic buzzsaw straight at The Pod, only to be stopped in place by The Force. Its burning tip sizzled on the membrane separating Sabel from the outside.
"Purple? You always did think of yourself as a prince."
Ontoroch felt the despair creeping in, piercing his rage, polluting it, dragging it down. He reached for his saber through the Force, screaming as he pulled on it with all his might, but tears were now streaking down his face and sobs made his body shudder.
The saber shook, even dragged back toward him a few inches, but he could not overcome her power. Sabel purred, and it was a sound that made the room vibrate.
"Let go, Ontoroch. That was always your problem – the clinging."
"My will can overcome anything. My father taught me that…"
"Your father was a second-generation Jedi from an era of easy victories. His perspective was… spoiled, to say the least. A shame you did not have a firm-handed mother to slap reality into you, see – you're just like the Defiler."
The faithful hissed and growled. "The Defiler…"
"Just like Nemo. A spoiled golden boy who thinks if he is arrogant and audacious enough he can overcome any obstacle by bullying it to death, or play with any forbidden technology he likes without a thought to the consequences."
"I am nothing like him. Or you."
The lightsaber released, whipping toward Ontoroch's hand. He grabbed it and charged the High Priestess, desperate to take control again. He was intercepted by a mass of flesh and inlaid metal. His saber sparked as it cut deep into Thadus' shoulder, then caught on something.
Ontoroch could feel Sabel's cold smile inside of him, "do you like him? I rebuilt Thadus here, in the Replication Shrine – with a few improvements to behavior and performance."
Thadus grabbed Onto's saber arm and crunched down on it with a hydraulic grip. The agony of it, combined with the crushing new weight of Sabel's telekinesis bearing down on him, brought him to his knees in agony. The seeds of despair blossomed in his heart and he let go. He let go and he felt so light, that he didn't mind crying anymore.
The High Priestess stepped forward to pull the ballistic putty from his ears, but Sabel stopped her, those eye cables gently shooing her away.
"Treat his injuries, let him go… give him his saber. Give him space."
Thadus plucked the saber from his shoulder and dropped it before the kneeling Ontoroch. Sabel's pressure lifted. The High Priestess directed all to follow her. "Come! The Mother desires privacy with this… poor creature."
The High Priestess ran her fingers through Ontoroch's hair as she passed by. Thadus lifted her up onto his shoulder and bore her out, with the faithful trailing behind. This left Ontoroch and Sabel alone, once the doors slid shut.
Chapter 10 - Cut Loose
"How are you flying this thing?!"
Dimple had crawled up on top of the prototype ship's terminal and could not find anything resembling manual flight controls – not even a droid for flight assist. They were still blasting at top speed away from the mothership and toward the massive shape of Alpheridies.
Brunt braced himself in the doorway, again, "damned ship is built for one!"
Ren clung to a pipe along the wall, "who cares?! Dao, just don't crash the kriffing thing!"
Dao kept her grip on her lightsaber, which was locked into the flight terminal. Truthfully, she had no idea how she was flying it, except by instinct. A chunk of debris flew toward them and she flinched to the right out of reflex; the ship did the same, as elegantly as if she were a veteran pilot.
Dao smiled, "it's amazing… like being one with the ship. I wonder if that's how Sabel feels right now."
Ren choked, "what?! Sabel is alive back there?!"
"Yes. She… it's complicated."
Brunt growled, "nothing complicated about it, we should have gotten her, too."
"No, Brunt. I wish we could have, but we–"
Dimple looked up through the window and saw a field of debris shooting closer, "AHHHHH LOOK OUT DAO!"
Dao felt the debris through the ship sensors, which came as naturally to her as channeling her own senses through the Force. The ship spun and wove through the wreckage, its wing sparking along one chunk, but otherwise she maneuvered through and out the other end.
Ren laughed off some tension, "hoooo hoho… that was — that was fun."
"I can never tell if you're being sarcastic or not, Ren."
"I'm never sarcastic."
Brunt rolled his eyes. "Can you jump this thing back to Coruscant or what?"
Dao felt through the ship's systems and found the drive core. She coaxed it awake, but it wasn't responding to her. "I don't think so… maybe it's broken?"
Dimple slapped the flight terminal, "stupid ship! You looked pristine! Perfect!"
Ren looked around the interior, "it does look factory new… or, whatever-made-this-thing new. Keep trying, Dao, and whatever you do, just fly in the opposite direction of all that crazy violence behind us, okay?"
Dimple stared out the window, at the massive shape of Alpheridies beneath them. "Uhhh… well maybe not the exact opposite direction."
"Why not?"
"That's a big, big planet."
"So?"
"So Dimple knows how gravity works – big planet, big gravity well."
Brunt stared at him from his safe spot in the doorway, "a gravity what."
"Like a big sand pit that catches ships, around every planet! Most planets not this big, but this one really really big!"
Dao gazed upon Alpheridies and felt a pang in her heart. They were approaching the dark side of the tidally-locked world, but she could see the habitable band as a ring of crimson storms just over the edge of the world. Lost in that trance, the high-speed ship drifted toward the giant planet. More than anything, Dao just wanted to go home.
Don't go to that planet. They will kill us, Dao.
Master Sabel?
No.
… Akama?
The voice fell silent. It was just in time for Dao to snap from her trance to hear Dimple screaming, "PULL UP, DAO! AHAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"
Dao saw the vastness of Alpheridies spanning beneath her even bigger than before. The sheer size of the super-world was terrifying – the pull of its incredible gravity on her ship even moreso. She heaved upward with the ship. Its nose bounced vertically, then snapped back down like it was held in place by rubber bands. Every time she tried, the snap got smaller, until the nose of the ship dipped toward the world despite her effort.
"Dimple?! Dimple, what do I do?!"
"Does this ship have comms?!"
A comms unit slid out of the flight terminal on command. Dimple grabbed onto it and clicked onto the mayday frequency, then blasted the signal: "mayday mayday mayday! Uh, uh! This is… unregistered ship, on crash course with giant planet! PLEASE ADVISE, OVER!"
The outside of the ship shuddered as they slid shallow into the first layer of Alpherides' thick atmosphere. Whirling, red storms churned just beneath them, ready to swallow their ship whole. Dao gave it everything she had, but the ship had nothing left to offer. All she could do was try to keep a controlled glide.
The comms chirped with a reply: "unregistered vessel, this is Alpheridies planetary flight control! Maintain your current vector! Automated systems will blunt your descent but you MUST stay your course, over!"
Dimple grabbed the comms, "copy that, ground control, over and out! See, Dao?! Keep us gliding, keep that nose up as high as you can!"
Dao felt the strain of the ship. It was surreal, feeling it as if it were her own body, feeling the gravity pulling at her limbs and her guts. She kept the nose up as high as she could but the storm system was coming in fast. "I'll try, just hang on!"
The ship penetrated the clouds. They were lost in abject, swirling darkness. Rain spattered the window and lightning lit the bridge in flashes. The ship lurched left and right but Dao managed to keep it from flying into an uncontrolled spin. Then lightning struck her wing and she felt the familiar agony of electrocution. Her mind flashed back to Nemo's cruel face and the shock of it all sent her spiraling into unconsciousness.
"Dao! Dao?!"
Brunt strained against the turbulence in the ship to march toward Dao and grab her. She was out, hand still on the lightsaber. He pried her hand off and put his hand there. He focused and tried to commandeer the ship. It did not respond to him.
"KRIFF IT! Everybody brace up!"
The ship's was losing its stable glide. Brunt strapped Dao in to the pilot's station then rolled back to his doorframe to brace himself. Dimple clung to Dao. Ren wrapped herself further around that pipe with her legs and arms.
The ship fell into a loose tumble as it exited the storm system. Now the vast, wet landscape of Alpheridies spread out below them. The comms chirped again: "you have lost your vector! Regain your glide, repeat, regain your glide!"
Brunt shouted across the bridge, "DAO! WAKE UP!"
Dao did not wake up. Then, Ren felt dread at the sight of one of Dao's arms moving as if guided by an external force, while her other arm hung limp and flopping in the 's fingers gripped the lightsaber and the ship thrusters blasted back online. The ship rolled into a proper, shallow glide and fought against the crushing gravity.
As promised by flight control, help did come. From remote mountain deployment depots, droids jetted into the air in formations of four. Dozens of them analyzed the falling ship's vector, then formed up in a long line. Each group of four droids spread apart to reveal a shimmering membrane in a square shape, with another some distance behind it, and another, and so on. The ship broke through the first membrane, then the second a little slower, then the third, until it the last one simply caught it.
The entire formation of droids joined the last four to help lay the ship down to the ground with a thud. The emergency response droids then landed and unfolded into various crisis response functions; one became a distress beacon, a few others became prefab habitation pods, another shifted into a water filtration unit, etc.
The door of the battered ship busted open under the weight of Brunt's kicks. The weary padawans of Rat Clan stumbled out, into the mud and thick fungal vegetation of Alpheridies. A crisis droid hovered in front of them, scanning for injuries.
"You have landed on Alpheridies. Please remain calm. Please do not wander from the crash site, as both hostile fauna and flora are prevalent."
They laid the unconscious Dao into a habitation pod, then took stock of their surroundings. They were in the middle of a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by towering, gnarled trees with black bark and golden leaves. Red veins of fungus pulsed along the boughs of trees like parasitic arteries. Wildlife croaked unseen everywhere and the rainfall was relentless.
"Well," said Ren, pulling her foot from the sucking mud, "this place is miserable."
Brunt sat down on a rock, ignoring the fact that his butt was now wet, "yeah, well… we're alive."
"What about Dao?"
"She's breathing, just give her a while to rest."
Ren walked with sucking steps toward one of the empty habitation pods, "I'm getting out of this mess."
Dimple crawled into another pod, "Dimple hates rain."
Brunt looked at the last remaining habitation pod and knew he wouldn't fit. He just sat there on his mossy rock and let the rain fall down. "Do you think Master Fen knew what kind of crazy she was sending us into?"
Ren scoffed, "if she didn't know, nobody could have known."
"Yeah. That's what worries me."
"Brunt, why don't you just get back on the ship instead of sitting in the rain."
"... I ain't going back on one of those things, ever."
"... fair enough."
The droids finished their medical scans and noted contusions, but no serious structural or internal damage on the four crash survivors.
The medical droid beeped, "due to an ongoing situation at the Alpheridies spaceport, as well as your remote location, your current estimated search and rescue wait time is… FORTY-SIX. HOURS. Please do not wander from the crash site. Please remain sheltered, as fungal infections are common–"
Brunt sat in miserable silence on his wet rock, his clothes already soaked, and his feet buried in mud. Ren slid out of her habitation pod and wandered toward the highlighted, holographic perimeter of the crash site. The droids chirped urgently at her: "please do not wander from the crash site."
Ren shoved the droid aside and went out into the bush, "blah blah blah, I know what I'm doing."
The padawan lit her saber and sliced broad leaves off of their stalks, gathered branches, and found some of that red fungus made good rope when cut from its roots. Within ten minutes, she came back to Brunt and fashioned a makeshift, lashed-together shelter around his rock. It kept the rain out. Brunt pulled his feet from the mud and wiped them clean.
"Brijet taught you good, Ren."
Ren made sure everything was tight, then slapped him wetly on the back, "you owe me a can of bubble-tang when we get out of this."
"I'll strike the one you owe me off the ledger instead, how about that."
Ren grinned, "... kriff your ledger, I hope you grow mushrooms out of your toes."
She then fashioned another small shelter from the rain at the center of their little circle of habitation pods and Brunt's rock. Then she used a few more tricks Brijet had taught her: boiling mud with her lightsaber to create a patch of dry ground, as well as frying wet wood and foliage into charcoal the same way. She pulled her firesteel from her belt, then struck it onto the charcoal to create a bright flame, which she added strips of living wood to.
It was smoky, but it was a fire, and she kept it going. Brunt warmed his toes by it, while Dimple dug some chocolate out of his backpack and shared it with his friends.
Ren stuffed the whole chocolate bar into her mouth, while Brunt took small, savoring bites. Dimple looked up at the red, stormy sky. "Alpheridies… never been here. Creepy."
Brunt licked one of his fingers, "Miraluka world."
Ren was too busy chewing her mouthful of chocolate to talk, but she tried anyways, "thaf's Dao's home, yea?"
Brunt grimaced at her manners, "yeah – blast it, Ren, don't make me Force-pull food from your throat because you're choking."
Ren stuck out a single chocolate-smeared finger, "thaf happun WUN time."
"Four times, you goon."
It would be about an hour of snacking and warming by the fire before Dao finally roused from her unconsciousness, though it was less like rousing, and more like a corpse shooting up with a gasp from the clutches of death. Ren, Brunt, and Dimple flinched in reflex at the suddenness of it.
Dao whipped her head toward them, a thin sheen of sweat visible on her face and neck in the firelight. "We're alive… we're alive?"
"Yeah," said Ren, throwing another black log on the fire, "thanks to you."
"But I… don't remember it."
Ren side-eyed Dao, "well, I saw you go under. But even asleep, I guess the Force guides your hand. Pretty lucky thing."
Dao draped her legs over the edge of her habitation pod to warm her feet by the fire.
You're welcome. But we can't stay here long.
… Akama.
Yes.
I'm not listening to you.
Do as you like. But mark this: you force my hand at your peril, little Dao.
Dao felt cold, despite the fire. Dimple poked her leg.
"Dao, you hungry? Dimple saved one for you."
The little monkey-lizard offered the last chocolate bar up with a smile. Dao smiled back, "thanks, Dimple." She unwrapped it and took a bite. It was, of course, delicious, and she couldn't help but devour it like she hadn't eaten in weeks, which she technically hadn't.
Brunt rubbed at his toes by the fire, "so, we gonna talk about the stuff we saw up there."
"Seems above Dimple's pay grade."
Ren made a face and shook her head, "nope. I'll save it for therapy."
Dao licked the inside of her chocolate bar wrapper. She realized all eyes were on her and she glanced at the curious, golden auras of her friends. Her heart fluttered, when the weight of the situation dawned on her.
"You all came for me."
"Of course we did, you lunk," said Ren, "though Dimple technically got paid to do it."
"AAAAH!" Dimple shrieked, "Dimple is an honorable mercenary, like a Mandalorian!"
"Like a Mandalorian!" Ren doubled over laughing, "Dimple the Mandalorian, oh stars abaft, I'd love to see that."
"Why you laughing?! Dimple could be a Mandalorian!"
"Dimple, you're the size of a house pet, with a mouth like a –"
Ren dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding a taser shot fired by Dimple's quickdraw. "Kriff, Dimple, lighten up!"
Dimple holstered his taser pistol, "Dimple will be Mandalorian someday, just to spite Dimple's stinky, black-eyed childhood rival."
Ren sniffed one of her armpits, "we were never rivals. And I barely stink right now."
"Oh… we were rivals and you do stink."
Dimple gave Ren a hard, squinty stare.
Ren stared back, "sure, Dimple, we were rivals. Bitter, bitter rivals. Curse you, Dimple." She even shook her fist at him for emphasis. Dimple 'hmphed' and seemed mollified.
Dao couldn't help but laugh. It felt like she hadn't laughed in years, which again, was technically true. Ever since becoming Sabel's padawan, life had been a bleak affair. Every night they were popping gangers on Mek Sha, setting up smoke and mirrors, disarming domestic fights in slums, and helping Sabel with her Nihil obsession. There hadn't been much room for laughter. And so the padawans shared jokes and stories about the past around the fire. They stayed dry for the most part and didn't wander from the crash site, as instructed – not that they had the energy for it. After a few hours, everyone who could curled up inside their habitation pods and drifted off to leaden sleep. Brunt had to settle for crossing his legs on his mossy rock and sleeping upright, but that's something he'd gotten good at over the years. It was made easier by being dry and having a fire to gaze into.
They didn't think about the dark, wet jungle beyond the perimeter of the crash site or the way the heavy gravity made it hard for them to breathe. All of that was nothing compared to the place they'd just escaped from. They could only sit, wait, and hope for a speedy rescue.
Chapter 11 - Roots in the Garden
Two Days Later
Naulita Valley Agricultural Gardens, Alpheridies
In the valley of Naulita, at the base of the Kuruto mountain range, there were many farms. Naulita fed much of the habitable belt on Alpheridies. Its soil was rich, it sat at the confluence of three violet rivers, and best of all, beneath it lay an endless web of fertile caverns where every variety of Miralukan fungus could grow.
Not only were these underground grottos prolific in their food production, they were also places of peace and tremendous beauty. The mushroom gardens grew in glowing patches of every color, with some colonies communicating with one another to shift from cyans and magentas to violets all in a waterfall-like gradient throughout the caverns. These pulsing spectacles were beloved by the locals, who built libraries and temples into the stone caverns, and put up simple meditation benches in open grottos where waterfalls fell from the surface.
Whole forests of gnarled trees grew underneath Naulita. Unlike the black and gold trees of the surface, which had adapted to absorb as much of the weak, red sun's energy as they could, the subterranean forests were eerily pale and hanging with glistening threads. These threads collected mineral-rich water at their bottoms, which sealed naturally into translucent fungal mebmranes that could be harvested and exported as a wellness tonic throughout the Republic.
Retired Seeker Vritali, a quiet woman whose association with the Luka Sene was never advertised, liked to walk the winding stone steps of these caverns every morning. It was here that she would buy her evening dinner ingredients fresh from the stalls of the farmers themselves, the so-called 'undergrounders' who preferred to stay near their livelihood and rarely venture above. This lifestyle suited the already-blind Miraluka just fine, and Vritali's grandmother on her father's side was descended from humble waterlily farmers in these very caves.
On her way back up to the surface, she had a basket of glowing bounty in her arms and a hum on her lips. It was a good hike, and given she was nearing the end of her forties, keeping these habits alive would be key to a long and healthy life. The wind of the surface blew her skirts and hood aside, and she took a moment to appreciate the familiar landscape, as she often did.
Alpherides hillsides were alive with spinning turbines that never stopped except for maintenance. The entire planet ran on energy from the tidally-locked world's nonstop gale winds, as well as simple hydroelectricity from the endless rainfall pouring in from mountainsides. This gave the world energy independence, and its gravity well generally ensured that it was safe from brute-force raids despite being a world located near the outer rim.
Of course, this made the recent news of Mandalorians taking the spaceport hostage especially strange. But the response of the Miralukan defense force and their Luke Sene support had been to simply shut down the elevator. Last Vritali had heard, the Mandalorians were trapped on the spaceport and likely abandoned by whomever paid them to take it in the first place.
"The perils of war," she whispered to herself, as she considered it all, "the blade that heals is holy. The blade that compels is damned."
She started along the path to her home, just a quick ten minute walk through the wind and rain. Her robes, like all Miralukan robes, were loose and comfortable, but also fastened to a warm undersuit that kept her hood and built-in eye covering from being blown loose. It was crafted from a textile made from the membrane of tree fungus, giving it hydrophobic properties – raindrops slid from her robes, keeping her consistently dry.
As the lights of home appeared over the hillside, she saw her splendid garden of deepgourd, the orange kiku roots bursting from dark soil, the rattlenut trees, the great purple masses of taturu growing on the fenceline waiting for next week's harvest, and a skimmer vessel that was not hers, her husband's, or anyone she knew from town.
Getting closer, she recognized the symbol of the MRR, or, the Miralukan Rescue Rangers. Her husband enjoyed skimmer flights over the wilderness himself, so at first she was worried he'd crashed and gotten himself into trouble. But as she walked through the gate to her farm, she saw her husband's skimmer floating behind the barn, moored as it usually was. So this was all very peculiar, indeed.
Vritali opened the door to her home and announced herself, "Tomisa? Tomi? I'm home now! Do we have guests?"
"Vrita! The tea room!"
She kicked off her sandals in the mud room and set her basket in the kitchen, before walking to the tea room. There she was greeted by kisses by her husband Tomi, and promptly introduced to two rangers wearing the waterproof, modern flightsuits and badges of their station. They bowed to the lady of the house, as was customary.
"Seeker Vritali, it is an honor."
Vritali clasped her hands neatly below her navel and nodded, "I have not been called a Seeker in a very long time, please – Vritali is fine."
"Vritali, then. You have a lovely home."
"Has my husband treated you well? He often boils the tea to death."
Tomi lead her to sit down, "ah ha ha, yes, well, I always get so distracted while waiting."
They all sat down in the tea room. Like all Miralukan tea rooms, it was extruding section of the home with windowed walls and ceilings, feeling more like a solarium or observatory than a proper shelter.
Rain streaked down the windows as Vritali poured everyone fresh tea from the center table. As was customary, all present enjoyed a full minute of silence (save the relentless rain and singing wind) to enjoy their tea before moving on to conversation.
Vritali held the warm cup in her hands, which were still cold from the outside, "please, young rangers. Don't keep me in suspense."
The rangers looked at one another, then one spoke. "A member of your family was found stranded in the Aiketsu wilds."
Vritali sat stunned for a moment. "That is… two-thousand miles to the south."
"Far beyond any settlements, yes."
"How is this possible? My sons… oh, which of them was it? Goru? It was Goru, yes?"
"It most certainly was not any of your sons, osa," he bowed slightly and was sure to use the most formal and polite honorific saved for matriarchs of standing, "it was a girl."
Vritali lost the strength in her hands. Her tea slipped, the clay cup shattering on the floor. Tomi clutched his wife close, "Vrita! Vrita, breathe, now! Sano sano, sano sano. Breathe."
Ignoring all else, Vritali bent down with shaking hands and picked up the pieces of her clay cup. The rangers and her husband did not rush to help her, as it would be seen as an insult. After cleaning the mess with a rag from the table and flicking the droplets of spilled tea over her shoulder for good luck, she took in a quiet breath and responded.
"There is a mistake. I do not have daughters."
The ranger frowned and presented his datapad, "I'm afraid genetics do not lie, osa. As is protocol, we took the biometrics of those we rescued, given it was an unusual situation, ah… I do not mean to alarm you, but, the highest levels of our government have been involved in this incident. I cannot be specific at this time, because I was not informed of the details when she was taken from our custody."
Vritali stared out the window, centering herself in the wash of rainfall and singing wind, "I do not have daughters and there has been a mistake. You should not have come here."
"Seeker Vritali, you misunderstand, I came here as a courtesy."
Tomi held his wife's hands, "a courtesy? This is disruptive and cruel."
The rangers bowed their heads and were genuinely contrite, "it is, and… yes, perhaps it is, but we came here to prepare you for what is to come. Again, as a courtesy. Nothing in our protocols required this visit."
Vritali looked back at them, "what is to come? I am too old for this sort of madness. I raised seven foster sons on this farm after retiring from my duties, and now that they are all old enough to make lives for themselves, I want peace."
"We understand that, Seeker Vritali."
"Vritali."
"Vritali osa. Forgive us."
The rangers rose from their seats, with one of them leaving the datapad on the center table by the teapot. "Keep this copy. Review it, if you like – it is a full report of what we found, with some personal notations regarding what you can expect soon."
Vritali balled her slender hands into fists under Tomi's palms, "I will tell whomever else comes here the same thing I told you – there has been a mistake. I do not have a daughter or a granddaughter or anything else. I wish to live in peace and be left alone."
The rangers bowed deeply at the doorway, "of course. Yonasa."
"Yonasa suto, young rangers. Goodbye."
The rangers put on their boots in the mud room and left the farmhouse. Tomi held his wife as he watched their low-profile skimmer unmoor itself and engage thrusters to drift off into the winds. For a while, the married couple just held one another and ignored the datapad on the table. There were no words for the grief.
Vritali rose, collecting the tea tray and the shattered cup, "you look at it. I am going to work on my kites, after I put this cup back together."
"Of course, my love – do you… want me to tell you what I find?"
"No."
She left the room. Tomi could hear her going through the motions of cleaning and putting their produce away in the icebox. Once he heard the door to her workshop shut, he picked up the datapad. Skimming through it, he saw pictures from the crash site – the strange ship, the the Gamorrean in Jedi robes, a monkey lizard in some kind of power armor, a red-haired Jedi girl with pitch black eyes, and…
"... Dao."
He knew her immediately. Even with her shaved head, the Mek Sha ink from neck to wrists, the scars, the tired face, he knew that girl. Even after ten years, of course he did. Tomi stroked at his beard and read through the report.
Constable Mara, Luka Sene attache to the MRR response team sent to crash site at Aiketsu, coordinates 127.3, -76.1, altitude 3,222 m.
We were right to suspect this was related to the Force disturbances in our atmosphere. Whatever created this ship was like nothing we've ever seen outside of fantasy holovids and mythic encyclopedias. I can only speculate (poorly) as to its origins, so I will leave the formal analysis to our archivists and scientists.
The Jedi found at the site were cooperative and shared their Republic identification credentials: Padawan Contess Oren, Padawan Felgrol 'Brunt' Agmar, and a private citizen with a bounty hunting license named 'Dimple Biznik.'
There was a fourth subject: Padawan Dao. A Miralukan female, aged fifteen, with genetic records matching a live birth on Alpheridies. Daughter of Sabel Jinsu, granddaughter of Seeker Vritali Jinsu. Given the circumstances, I've tagged this file for connection with incident 22c ten years ago involving the Jinsu family and their illegal harboring of the Nihil criminal Sabel Jinsu. Given that Dao was born illegally by a former Miralukan citizen whose citizenship was revoked, she has no legal right to reside on Alpheridies and will be processed as a detainee-to-be-deported under SAPTAC protocols 221 - 223b.
Personal note: something is very wrong with Dao Jinsu. She appears to be suffering from some kind of malaise and was lethargic in her responses to inquiry on the flight back to the capital. A cursory examination through my trained Force sight revealed what I can only describe as a 'hole' in her aura, something I have never witnessed before.
Given the involvement of Jedi agents, alien technology, the chaos in high orbit, and the ongoing incident at the spaceport, I'm recommending we see this as the gift it is. Until the situation with the Mandalorians is resolved, traffic to and from the planet is shut down. There have been rumors at higher levels of government that the Republic is considering a total quarantine of our system, which will have devastating repercussions on our economy.
We could use Jedi diplomatic and/or tactical assistance in resolving the incident at the spaceport. Padawans 'Brunt' and 'Ren,' along with their security consultant 'Dimple', were invited to assist in defusing the situation. While there was some upset over the detainment of Padawan Dao, they agreed that it would be best she rest in isolation and receive a full medical examination by our specialists. Quoting Padawan Contess Oren: 'she has been through shit you can't imagine. Be gentle with her.'
When asked to clarify, Ren declined to comment. Her colleagues were similarly tight-lipped. I personally suspect we are at the center of a Jedi operation that is ongoing and complex. It is my professional opinion that Dao should be kept in strict quarantine, but treated humanely and given a chance to recover from whatever illness is afflicting her.
There is precedent for spiritual sickness in our archives, and we absolutely cannot risk whatever affects her spreading throughout the planet.
Vividly,
Constable Mala Sika
P.S. Could someone please reach out to our retired Seeker, off the record? She might be able to help.
Tomi set the data pad back on the table with a thunk.
He wiped his face slowly with his hand and leaned back in his seat, then deflated with a sigh, "ancestors protect us."
After collecting himself, he rose and faced the doorway, only to startle at the slender shape of his wife lingering there, "Vrita! You know I hate it when you lurk!"
Vritali clutched the doorframe with one foot in the room, her gaze on the datapad. "Is it very bad? Is it… Sabel? Again?"
Tomi walked to her and held her hands, then kissed her brow. She sank into his arms and felt some of her nerves calming, but she couldn't help but stare at the datapad over her shoulder. He leaned back and looked at her, "it's complicated, Vritali."
"Complicated is usually shorthand for 'bad.'"
He chuckled, "so it is, my noma, but you know how it is with Jedi. You knew this was always a possibility – every breath is carried by the wind one day returns to us. Yes?"
"I can't go through another nightmare. It was difficult enough the first time. I begin to wonder if the women of my bloodline are cursed."
"To be gifted, both in mind and spirit, is itself a kind of curse. You remember, you had no other choice but to do what you did."
"I have lived my life without regrets, nomo," she walked past him and picked up the datapad, "but sometimes I wonder if that's actually a lie."
"It isn't. You have done great things for your family, your people, and the Republic, in such a short time. You gifted your children to the Jedi. You aided them in countless matters of esotericism and cooperative research. And now, you are a woman of peace, who raised seven healthy sons whose parents were lost to strife, and whose farm feeds her community. You are my noma and my heart, and I can't bear to see you like this."
Vritali clicked the screen on and looked into the datapad's contents. She glanced at her husband with a sad smile, "bear it a while longer."
"Aya, you cannot help yourself, can you, woman?"
She winked, "it's why you love me."
He embraced her and kissed her temple, then held her as she read through the contents of the datapad. He expected her to sag and slump in his arms as she got through the report, but the opposite was true – by the end, her back was straight and her mouth set into an expression of absolute resolve. She dropped the datapad on the table and marched toward the mud room.
"Vrita?"
"Stay here, Tomi-nomo. I can feel it already."
"Feel what? Are you ill?"
"The call of the Force. The threads of fate, singing in the cosmic wind."
"Ayaaaa, woman, speak plainly!"
She put on her sandals in the mud room and set a hand on the door, "I spent a lifetime studying Force esoterics in the Luka Sene. As a Seeker, I coordinated with the Jedi to discover dark artifacts so that they could be locked down – this is a part of my life I do not speak to you of, Tomi. This was before we met."
He stood in shock in the doorway, holding her waterproof cloak for her, "I knew you were a Seeker, but… dark artifacts? I don't like the sound of it!"
"Wicked things, forged by wicked beings, in dark ages long past. Seeds of pollution that warp the Force itself, not easily destroyed, but best contained and studied."
"Are you trying to frighten me?"
"I am telling you that if I do not come back from this, or worse, if I come back and seem not myself, then… just, listen to your instincts."
She pulled her cloak from his hands and threw it over her shoulders, then opened the door and looked at him over her shoulder. "The Jinsu family legacy will not be this," she said, "it cannot be this, Force willing."
"I won't try to stop you, but, please come back safely."
She kissed him gently at the door, then pulled down her hood, "I intend to."
He watched her unmoor their skimmer in the rain, then drift off like a kite onto the winds, thrusters correcting as needed, sails shifting and rolling like water. Though she'd said she intended to return, that was hardly a comfort to Tomi. He could only hope, wait, and place his faith in the subtle mysteries of the Force.
Chapter 12 - The Dragon of the Gap
Alpheridies High Profile Detainment Centre
In Alpheridies' capital city of Kalemido, there was a holding facility that from the outside appeared to be a stack of transparent cargo containers as high as a skyscraper. Prisoners here were given clear floors, walls, and ceilings in their cells. This gave them a panoramic view of the entire Naulita valley; the dark mountains on all sides, and the golden gleam of dim sunlight reflecting off of curved rooftops and violet canals. Prisoners afraid of heights had their room's interior coated in drapes and carpets. All were fed three square, hot meals per day.
Dao sat on the bench of her cell, hugging a pillow and rocking back and forth. Time didn't really mean anything anymore. Her friends had been taken away just as quickly as she'd regained them, and now she was detained for reasons she didn't fully understand. They told her they had to keep her locked away, until the Jedi could retrieve her, for 'safety and legal reasons' but that didn't make any sense. Wasn't she born here? Maybe she could just quit.
Maybe if she quit the Jedi Order then and there they would release her and let her go find her home, that farm she had fewer and fewer memories of every year.
Look forward, not back, little Dao.
"I'm not listening to you."
It was noted by Dao's caretakers that she had been speaking to herself for two days, but so far no one from the Luka Sene had arrived to address it.
I told you not to come here.
"I didn't have a choice."
It's alright, Dao. You tried, it's all any of us can do.
"I wish I would just die."
Why?
"I have never wanted to live, I never asked to live, did you ask to live, Akama? Do you remember the time before you were born, when you stood before the Force and asked it to create you as whatever you are? Do you remember that, Akama?"
No. But I can remember past lives, within my bloodline –
"Who cares about that. You can't remember the nothingness inbetween, so how much do you really know, you stupid ghost."
I can sense your suffering. It is much like your mother's. You feel isolated.
"I was never supposed to exist. I don't know why I exist. I can't wait until I don't exist anymore, then I can have a rest from everything."
Have you no reason to live at all?
"I live to serve the Jedi Code and the Republic, that's what I was raised to do, and that's what Master Sabel did, too, even if it lead to… horrible things."
She made her choice. She knew she was all-in with the Jedi, Dao.
"Why can't I sense her anymore, through the bond? Why?"
Because the bond was never with her. It was with me, Dao. She was a proxy. And now that she has served her purpose, in freeing me from that ship, you and I can do good work.
"You manipulated her."
I gave her, a woman obsessed with vengeance, the gift of absolute power. What she has become has no equal in this galaxy. She is a goddess of the stars, floating among microbes. With that mothership she could enslave the Jedi and conquer Coruscant in a week's time.
"Why would you give up power like that?"
I have never desired power, Dao.
Dao fell onto her back and laughed until her eyes got wet. "Oh, you're such a LIAR!"
If I desired power, why would I abandon that grand mothership, to be tethered to a meek, sad, weak, wretched, suicidal little girl? Hm? Tell me why.
"... I don't know."
Would you like me to tell you?
Dao just laid on her back, staring up at the thick glass ceiling and watching the rain pour down. It was transparent, but warped and shifting. It mesmerized her.
"Going to tell me I'm special? I'm the chosen one?"
Quite the opposite. You are wise for a child, but that hardly counts for much. If I wanted to, I could seize your body for myself and plant my seeds throughout the Republic. But I haven't, have I? I have behaved myself, like an honored guest.
"... it was just chance you ended up in me, wasn't it?"
Fate, or chance. It depends on your perspective.
"Master Sabel… she got wrapped up in something she didn't understand. And I got dragged down with her."
Correct.
"I'm just an opportunity you seized."
Yes.
"Why? What do you want?"
Unity, Dao. And to prove the strength of my convictions not at the tip of a sword, like my brute peers did, long ago… like so many still do. What good are convictions that ring so hollow you must enforce them? No, Dao, the truth always rings clear. It is vivid. It is transparent.
Dao, for all of her doubts, for all of her instincts telling her that Akama was a dread being and a purveyor of terror… despite it all, she felt intrigued.
What causes living things the most terror, Dao?
Dao sat up. She stared down through the transparent floor beneath her feet. People milled around the city streets like ants crawling on circuitry.
"Death."
CThe unknown. Death is the greatest unknown of all, certainly, but there is one more horizon that frightens most – the unknown of the other.
"The other?"
The alien. The non-self. Outside of rare mutations or Force bonds, when are people able to truly look into one another's souls and experience a mutual understanding?
"It's very difficult. I experienced it with Sabel… through you."
Yes. I mastered the technique.
"... the technique?"
The Force technique, of binding myself to others, and others to myself.
"But I was experiencing Sabel, not you."
Oh, that was because I was experiencing Sabel's reality as a proxy, while I remained trapped as a ghost within the Engine I created on that ship. It was exhilarating.
"That's extremely creepy, but I guess it makes sense…"
Of course it does, little Dao. Now imagine if all the galaxy were connected in that way, in an intricate, psychic web of mutual understanding – empathy, telepathy, all of it. A vast superconsciousness, united by the grace of the Force itself, and helped along through a bit of technology here and there. Wouldn't that be wondrous?
"People couldn't hurt each other, if they truly understood each other… with mutual empathy being a given. I guess I never thought something like that was possible."
I worked for ages on this vision, Dao. I was sabotaged by my own colleagues, the belligerent fools, and killed in a great betrayal. They feared what they did not understand, what they could not control – which only proved my point in the end.
"But your spirit lived on."
In the Ghost Engine, and now in you. Their feeble minds failed to comprehend the depth of my arts, and so I bided my time, allowed myself to be used as a weapon in their pathetic wars, until all was dark and ruined. I slept for aeons in deep space, until that fool Nihil found me. Much like my arrogant, domineering colleagues of old, he was. And now, 'The Great Admiral Nemo' is dead by the hand of the woman he tormented for so long. I was glad to have helped Sabel's vengeance along. It had been a long time coming, Dao, and you must understand… she deserves the power she has been given. She will wield it justly.
Dao stood up and walked to the edge of the cell, where she placed her hands on the glass and stared out through the running rain. Everything Akama said made sense. But there was still a wrinkle, still a nagging feeling in the back of her mind.
"Why won't you let me gaze into you?"
You have seen glimpses. But you aren't ready yet.
"If you want this… network of mutualism so badly, then you have to make yourself as transparent as you make everyone else, don't you?"
Such a persistent child.
"All I hear is excuses from you, Akama."
Have it your way, Dao. But before I terrorize you by revealing my true form, I want to ask you this: are you familiar with 'the dragon of the gap'?
Dao gently thumped her forehead, over and over, against the transparent wall, "no."
When people have gaps in their knowledge or understanding, they often fill them with dragons – terrors, fears, and anxieties far worse than what the truth may be. Remember it, for that is the kind of mortal weakness I seek to eradicate with my vision of unity.
The sky darkened. The ground fell into shadow. The walls and floor fell away, leaving Dao floating in nothingness. She swam and swiped at the air, but could not see her own body. Ahead of her, eyes gleamed in the abyss, too far apart and too yellow to be human.
Dao yelled at the eyes, "go on, then! Show me! Show me your aura and stop hiding!"
Dao felt dozens of cold fingers grasping at her arms. She shuddered at the sensation, but didn't thrash. She didn't see the point.
Akama's voice was clear and close, in a voice that felt like a scalpel prying open the center of her skull. "You cannot see what's inside of you, Dao."
Dao went limp in Akama's grasp, felt the cold of the dark seep into her skin and make her lips numb, "what…"
"I'm you. You are me. There's no taking this back. A hand can't clap itself, an eye can't see itself, it's over, Dao – we belong to one another. The Ghost Engine bonded you to me. You are not the first and you are far from the last."
"I just want to fade away… I don't want any part of this – no part. Just take my body, if that's what you want. I don't care."
"... truly?"
"I don't care. I'm the reason my friends nearly died. I'm the reason you happened at all, I'm the reason Sabel is… so angry. Nothing good has ever happened because of me, no one is better off for having known me."
Akama swirled around Dao, her two eyes splitting into many more, all moving independently of one-another, "it's a generous gift you're offering, Dao. Are you sure?"
The vision ended. The cell returned and Dao found herself standing above the city once more, a bit short of breath, and a bit cold, but in tact.
"I just want to be with my friends. They're the only ones who ever made me happy. But, they're Jedi first, and friends second. Like me."
What about your family?
"My mother gave me to the Jedi. That tells you how much she wanted me."
But Sabel is your mother.
"That's what I'm told. It doesn't matter, does it? Jedi first, huntress second, Mother… third? No, never. She doesn't love me. No one loves me, love isn't allowed. I have to be empty, without preconceived notions, that's what all my teachers always liked best about me. I should not make assumptions. Whether it's your vision or the Jedi's, it doesn't really matter, does it? At least you aren't out to make people suffer, so – take my body.
You truly believe that?
"I don't really know what to believe. That's the point."
Akama's pleasure filled Dao's being with a chittering, purring vibration. It make Dao's skin crawl, but she took comfort in it almost being over.
I accept your gift, Dao.
Dao sank to her knees and silently begged the clear floor to vanish, so she could fall, "just make it all stop… take it all. I don't know what to believe."
Then, there was a warm voice, firmly behind Dao: "believe that you are loved."
Dao turned to face the voice she heard through the doorway behind her. Standing on the other side of the glass was a tall, slender Miralukan woman with dark, silver-streaked hair hanging loose through the hood of her cloak. Dao covered her mouth reflexively, at the wash of tears running down the back of her throat.
Dao's voice cracked, "... mama?"
Seeker Vritali grabbed the locked door and pulled on it to no avail. She shouted over her shoulder, "one of you open this door!"
"She's under quarantine until –"
"I'm here to examine her, lock me in there with her for all I care!"
"- yes, Seeker."
A guard swiped a card on the door and it slid open. The Seeker pushed her way through and ran to Dao, ignoring all sense, all caution, to embrace the child she'd held in her arms that fateful day in Kayatonae's office over ten years before. Dao's whole body trembled and she swallowed mouthfuls of weeping tears. Her sobs were literally choking as she clung to her mother, her real mother, the woman who raised her by hand and sang to her as a baby.
"I'm here, tati," Vritali swallowed her own tears and stroked Dao's bristly hair, "I'm here, little Dao, I'm not letting you go, not this time."
"Mama, I don't know what's real anymore – I don't know, if this is–"
"I'm real, this is real, little bluecap."
It did feel real. She smelled the smell of her mother's hair and the soil from their farm on her clothes. She felt the warmth of her hug, the coarse scrapes of her fingers through her hair and along Dao's many scars. Vritali felt such heartache, seeing these scars on the girl - scars from alley knives and shrapnel, from burns made by blaster sparks deflecting off her lightsaber, and so many more. It was a map of her and Master Sabel's misadventures on Mek Sha.
But that was all like a bad dream, now.
As the cell door slid shut, a man's calloused hand stuck into it.
A guard called out, "sir! SIR! You can't go in there!"
"I'm with the Seeker!"
Seeker Vritali looked up from Dao in her arms, "Tomi?!"
Tomi barged into the cell and the door shut and locked automatically behind him, "I couldn't – I just…"
Dao saw the kind, warm brown eyes of her father and trembled anew, "papa…?"
Tomi had to swallow his tears, too, as he dove in to hug his wife and Dao, "little Dao, little stranger – we should have never let you go."
Dao heaved sobs and desperate pleas as she clung to them, "I want to go home… I want to go home, please take me home, I don't want to be a Jedi anymore! Please!"
Seeker Vritali's heart ached in excruciating ways, "you don't have to be, tati, you can come home after we sort everything out. We're going to make it all right, I promise you, I swear it to you."
Tomi held Dao's hand and nodded, "whatever it takes. They'll understand."
Dao's relief was like sinking into a hot bath after a ten year march in the cold, rainy wilderness. A simple life, a peaceful life, that's all she wanted, that's all she needed.
But you promised, Dao.
"Stop it…"
"Who are you talking to, tati? It's frightening, listening to you do that."
"Akama…" Dao pulled from her parents and beat at her skull with her fists, "Akama won't go away, she won't leave me alone!"
Tomi and Vritali stepped back. A chill fell across the tiny, translucent cell. The Seeker focused her sight through the Force, and did what she did best: seek.
Akama's voice in Dao's mind grew tense.
Stop this. Stop her.
Dao clenched her teeth and thrashed, threw herself back against the wall, away from her parents, "don't touch me! She'll– make me… I don't know what she can do!"
STOP HER, DAO!
Seeker Vritali gazed into Dao's aura. There it was – a hole. A gap in an otherwise lovely corona of gold and violet. The Seeker had never seen anything like it, "what… is that?"
Dao hid her face behind her hands and sunk to the floor, as far as she could in the opposite corner of her parents. It looked as if she were hovering in the air in that transparent cell, as the storms and mountain spires loomed behind her.
At last, with no other recourse left to the ancient being, Akama spoke through Dao's mouth, in Dao's voice: "I do hate being cornered. You 'Miraluka' creatures are unusually adept at gazing into the things you should not gaze into."
The Seeker tipped her chin back, placed a protective arm across Tomi, "possession."
"Nothing so crass as that. This… is symbiosis. She offered."
"And did she ask for you to become a part of her, demon?"
To that, Akama had no answer.
The Seeker scoffed, "of course she didn't. Dao was just a poor girl doing her best, but she was in the wrong place, at the wrong time – just like my Sabel."
To that, Akama was absolutely silent.
The Seeker's senses lit up with a sudden fury. Tomi felt her hand clench in his shirt and twist so hard it tore the fabric. "Vrita…?!"
Vritali's other hand curled into talons, "are you what haunted her?! Are you the taint I smelled upon her that night, fifteen years ago?! The thing that… her eyes?! Was that YOU?!"
As before, Akama had nothing to say.
"Where is Sabel?!"
Akama remained silent. Dao hyperventilated in the corner, overwhelmed and lost to Akama's will. Dao wanted to fight but these forces were too powerful. It was better to lay limp. It was better to not try because it was all going to be horrible in the end anyways. Everything was going to die in the end anyways. No point.
No point.
Seeker Vritali raised her curled fingers up as if to begin an incantation. The Force itself throbbed in her palm, "by the unbroken line of the Jinsu, by the first mother and the ancestors before her, I will rip you from her, demon, and by the subtle mystery of the Force I shall heal any harm your exorcism causes her soul – this I swear, this I vow, by the ghosts of my forebears!"
Akama, through Dao's throat, laughed. She laughed and laughed. Tomi felt ill at the sight of it, of such a cruel sound coming out of that girl. Lightning crackled down Dao's arms.
"What are you going to do, 'Seeker'? Cut down this dear girl with your lightsaber and rip me from her guts? Or perhaps some quaint, riverside ritual with mud and sticks from your ancestral barrows? Step aside now, release me from this prison, and I won't be forced to end you. It would be a shame, as I think you would appreciate the harmony I intend to build."
"You don't intend harmony, you don't build unity. It happens as it happens, over time and effort, through pain and sorrow, through hard lessons and loss. What kind of fool are you?"
Akama lifted her newfound body from the floor. Sheer brute telekinesis tore at the secure door behind the Seeker, ripping it open. Alarms blared in the facility, guards shouted and ran for their stations. The ancient being raised her hand and pointed at the Seeker, "move."
Vritali channeled the Force through her hand and called to the land, to her ancestors, to the Force beyond the galaxy and consciousness.
"No."
"So be it."
Akama lifted a finger, and from it, a thunderclap – electricity cracked toward Vritali.
Tomi threw himself into it. As Tomi stood arched and buckling under the agony of the violet lightning, Vritali could smell his body burning from the inside-out. But even as he was murdered before her, he managed final words:
"Love… you… Vrita…"
Vritali swallowed tears for her husband. She could not lose her focus, not now. His lifeless, twitching body was thrown hard against the transparent wall.
Akama sighed, "a waste. He seemed a good man. Now, will you stop this madness? All I need is to reach your nearest terminal connected to a central node, an alarm system will do – this is a holding facility, yes? You'll see, once I've finished my work… you'll all hear the Song."
A black cable slid from Dao's left palm like a worm, then retracted. The Seeker held fast, her focus not on the horror and grief for her husband, nor at the ancient terror that eclipsed her in Force potency by orders of magnitude, but on the old ritual at hand.
We see you, Akama.
Akama heard the multitude of voices around her. Through the walls, hovering in the air over the city, clustered at Vritali's back. Even hovering over Tomi's body, there was Tomi's ghost. By the subtle mysteries of the Force, Akama was surrounded on all sides by ancestral spirits. They gazed into her. They saw her for what she was. Their judgements were pitying:
Wretched is the creature that is lonely among its own kind.
Despair is a disease unto itself.
Loss is only suffering to those who do not accept loss.
The Seeker gazed into Akama, and into Dao.
"Dao. You are stronger than you think. You are loved, tati."
For a moment, she let herself believe it. And in that moment, she saw the horror of the scene before her.
"No, no, no no no!"
She roared, like she knew Sabel could, raw will like she had never channeled before throbbing into her fists and veins down to her curled toes, "I am Dao Jinsu! Padawan of the Jedi! I'm not the best Jedi there ever was, but I am loved! I belong where I am!"
No. You are wretched and loathesome, like me. Like us all.
"KRIFF YOU, AKAMAAAAAAAA!" Dao threw herself forward and fell to the floor, no longer held aloft by Akama's power. But Akama's ghost, glowing gently in the light of the unwarped Force, hovered in place amid the circle of ancestral eyes as Dao caught her breath on her hands and knees.
Akama was revealed in full. A tall, but scrawny being with a lipless mouth and stalked, bulbous eyes. Her head was pointed like the mountain crags, her nostrils recessed slits. She had long fingers tipped with suction cups and a sunken, androgynous chest. She was naked, covered in splotchy, scaly skin, and had no visible reproductive organs.
DON'T LOOK AT ME!
The Seeker pointed her finger at Akama, "I see you, Rakata. Not a dominator, but worse – a dominator that has convinced itself that it is a benefactor."
"How?!" Akama's voice was shrill and seething, "how can you be so cold, with your beloved dead at your feet?! How can you not fall to your knees and weep?!"
The Seeker swallowed tears, "there is no death. There is only the Force."
The many ancestral ghosts moved in closer to the Rakata.
For all of her influence over the material realm, she is still just a crest in a wave.
Like we all were.
We are but echoes.
May she return to the endless sea.
May she know peace.
Akama sank into despair, "peace… how can there ever be peace?"
By letting go.
Akama curled into a hovering fetal position, "giving up. Only cowards and wretches…"
You are dead. Clinging is beneath your dignity, old one.
The spirits touched her. She began to dissolve, and they with her. The Seeker crouched down to pull Dao into her arms. Nestled against the woman that raised her, Dao saw the miraculous sight. It was as beautiful as the foam on a seashore, gently fizzling to its zenith, before sliding back to the water beyond.
"Papa…"
Tomi's ghost winked at them both, before he, the Jinsu ancestors, and Akama dissolved into the great Force beyond. Dao clung to the Seeker, "I did this to him…"
"Hush, now, tati, your papa is one with the Force, you saw it."
"I saw it…"
"Then be at peace. We have duties yet to fulfill, before we'll join them."
The Seeker picked the girl up to her feet and shielded her, kept her from looking at the remains of her father as they walked out of the room.
Armed guards trained weapons on them, "Seeker! Status report, please!"
The Vrita's heart, body, and mind were numb with shock. "I believe the immediate danger is over, but my husband was… he saved my life."
Their weapons lowered. One guard glanced into the room and gagged at the smell of a person cooked by pure energy. "MEDIC!"
The Seeker held onto her trembling daughter and shook her head, "he's gone."
"It's protocol to make an attempt at resuscitation, Seeker."
The Seeker spared both herself and Dao the agony of watching these futile attempts by the medics. The mother and daughter were escorted to central administration to be fully debriefed. Shock is all that kept them from breaking down, but when and if they did break down, they were leaning against one another.
Act 4
Chapter 1 - Impasse[4]
Alpheridies Spaceport - Low Orbit
The spaceport over Alpheridies had become a museum of pelt tents, portable ion stoves, iconic Mandalorian helmets, and well-fed hostages. This clan was about forty strong and well-geared. The concession stands and food stores of the spaceport were raided for synthetic nutrients, but their reserves of protein were getting low.
Inside the central command tent, one Mandalorian approached another. They clasped hands and, of course, kept their helmets on.
"You're still alive," said one, a visiting field leader with battle-scorched Beskar armor.
"You're still alive," said the other, a woman with a voice like smoke and steel.
"We've stripped this place for supplies. It's not much."
"How many days left?"
"Three, if we pad tonight's stew with mulch. Half as much otherwise."
"Those wermo Nihil really kriffed us."
"Voidrunner clan vouched for them. This all seems like a run of bad luck."
"If you think this is bad luck, you're as stupid as them."
"Don't make me regret nominating you for coordinator."
"I didn't ask to be nominated in the first place."
"Elder Turon got spaced in a faulty breach pod on approach–"
"- don't you say it."
"- so here you are, Galanu, like you always wanted. Everybody's moody big sister."
She backed away from him, back toward the holocomm terminal folded out at the far end of the tent. Her armor was pristine and her tone reflected displeasure at the fact.
"I was supposed to be at the breach."
"No accounting for bad luck."
Galanu the Mandalorian turned her back to her cohort and picked up the holocomm disc. "Get back to your post, wermo."
"Bad luck," said her clan cohort, as he passed through the tent's flaps, leaving her.
Galanu tuned into the planetary admin's frequency and hailed them directly.
"Republic admin on Alpheridies, this is the Mandalorian clan occupying your spaceport."
The line crackled, then beeped alive, "good evening, hostage takers."
"Right, well, no one's been harmed, but we're running low on supplies. How about we start talking about exchanging hostages for food?"
Beep.
"It's been a pleasure dealing with such humane and polite criminal occupiers, Mando'ade, but I'm afraid the matter has been taken out of our hands."
Galanu felt a cool breeze gust through the flaps of her tent. She glanced over her shoulder and saw nothing, but her instincts lit her attention up to high alert.
"... and whose hands did it land in?"
"As luck would have it, Alpheridies recently accepted a visitation from a Jedi Consular, his partner, and his bodyguard. They should be arriving at the spaceport any minute."
Galanu clenched the holocomm disc in her fist, "a Jedi? Do they know we don't want to be here any more than you people want us to be here?"
Beep.
"Yes, they have all the documentation of our conversations, and I was sure to inform them that you have behaved in good faith so far."
"We want a clean break, but things could get out of hand in a hurry."
Beep.
"I do not recommend making threats, veiled or otherwise. The Jedi Consular in question is known for taking a hard stance on negotiating with terrorists."
"We're not kriffing terrorists–!"
The line dissolved into digital static. Galanu couldn't get the frequency to work again, signifying an official end to negotiations with planetary administration. And then there was that weird, cold breeze she felt again; she had the feeling of eyes on her, but couldn't see anyone inside with her. Galanu marched to the tent flaps and stepped outside.
The hostages were kept in the central terminal, where most of them had been when the Mandalorians took control of the spaceport on behalf of the Nihil. They were all civilians, generally traveling offworld on business or to visit family abroad. Quite a few were children. Galanu knew that they were the only way she was going to get her clan out of this alive.
Her comms chirped. "Coordinator, we've got incoming on the main elevator."
"Take positions and be ready to fire on my mark!"
Galanu turned, adjusting her bracers and hefting her rifle to load ion cartridges.
"Plenty of glory in killing Jedi," she said to herself, as she contemplated the cortosis claw blades on her bracers, "the Elders did it…"
Galanu clenched her fist and clicked her comms back on.
"Belay that last, verda'ade. We are done huddling like sand rats."
"And the hostages?"
"Load the ones you can onto the shuttles, let the rest flee. If they fight, give them a warrior's death."
"Briikase! Finally!"
Galanu's blood hummed in anticipation of glory. The order spread through the camp like fire, heralded by younger Mandos firing their rifles into the air and ordering the hostages to board soon-to-be-commandeered shuttles. Galanu herself marched to the exit of her tent.
A shadow in the corner of her eye jerked her attention aside. She whirled around and bared her cortosis claws, but whatever it was, it wasn't there anymore.
A pair of black eyes set into a head of red hair emerged over her shoulder. Two fingers checked Galanu's pulse through her neck guard. The Mandalorian felt consciousness pulled out from under her like a rug, and as darkness took her, she felt arms catch her to break her fall. In her last moments, she saw Ren straddling her chest with a smile.
"I need to borrow that sexy armor of yours," she said, as she yanked that iconic Mandalorian helmet off sleeping Galanu's head.
Inside the elevator, just ten floors from their destination at the top, Brunt sensed a disturbance in the Force. Dimple, who rode on Brunt's shoulders with his satchel of gadgets and rifle at the ready, noticed the more-than-usual-amount of sweat beading on the Gamorrean's mighty brow.
"Uhhhh," Dimple dabbed at Brunt's brow with an oily rag, "you okay, Brunt?"
"Force disturbance. We're about to get shot at."
"... that was not the plan."
"I know."
"Plan was Ren goes in disguise, gets them to NOT shoot at us!"
"No, the plan was we negotiate peacefully, with Ren in position if things go bad."
"Things already going bad!"
"I KNOW."
The enormous freight elevator ground to a halt. The door alarms blared and Brunt stepped aside, out of view of them. Now able to talk around the corner without being shot at, he decided to open up a line of negotiation with whatever wall of rifles lay around the corner.
"Mandalorians! I am Padawan Brunt, of the Jedi Order!"
"Padawan?!" yelled one grunt. "Kriffing tits, just one of you?!"
"Padawan, yes. Consular-in-training, here to negotiate in good faith."
Dimple whispered into Brunt's ear, "want a snoop?"
Brunt nodded once. Dimple scurried down Brunt face-first, his cloaking device clicking on and snooper goggles going down over his eyes. The Mandalorians on the other side of the door remained audibly disappointed by the news at the elevator being nothing but one measly padawan and not a glorious contingent of saber-swinging knights.
"What do you say, Mandalorians?" Brunt asked, buying time for Dimple to invisibly creep around the walls and take stock of the opposition. "Are we talking, or am I leaving?"
"Yeah, you're leaving," one shouted back, "and coming back with the real Jedi, a good grip of 'em if you don't mind!"
Another had words, "the ones in armor with those blue blades!"
"Yeah, those ones! Knights or bust!"
Brunt lost his focus. His mind flashed back to the horrors of the Mothership, just days before, and the sight of Dao withered and scarred. He couldn't hear that wretched song in the air anymore, but the trauma of it all clung to him like a reek. A small part of him told him to charge that dug-in line of Mandalorians and scatter them in Force and fury, but a bigger part of him knew where that path led.
Ontoroch had been a good example of that.
He dialed up Master Fen on his holocom disc. When her image popped into his hand, the relief was immediate.
"Master Fen, please. The anger is creeping in again."
The holocom played the same recorded message as before:
"Brunt. If you are hearing this message, it means I am still tending to the ongoing crisis on Coruscant. I regret I cannot be by your side. You are a shining example of the subtle compassion of the Force. You are more than the flesh on your bones and the anger in your heart. So long as you hold your love of justice and kindness close, you will never falter. Just hang on, beautiful soul."
Brunt pocketed the holo disc and slumped against the wall.
One Mandalorian caught on to bits of the call audio.
"Is he calling his mum?!"
The whole squad had a good laugh at that.
Brunt felt his eyes well up with tears. His mind was spiraling too far back. He remembered too much. He didn't want to think about the stale food the Jedi found him eating when he was a feral toddler in a tenement. He didn't want to think about the stiffness of his mother's cold hands. He didn't want to feel the faceless absence of his craven father.
The Gamorrean slid down the wall and buried his face in his palm. At least they couldn't see him as his giant shoulders shuddered with silent, stifled sobs.
The mirage that was Dimple shimmered back into view at Brunt's feet. He tugged on Brunt's robes, but got no response. Dimple crawled up onto Brunt's knees and tilted his head to get a good look at his face.
"Brunty-bro?"
Brunt wiped at his eyes with a bristly forearm, "gimmie a minute."
"Sure, sure, you have a good cry, it's been a long week, eh? Out of the garbage compactor, into the sewer – but you should know, I snooped."
"And?"
"There's a lot of them, with nasty gear. Special anti-Jedi stuff. Uh…"
"I don't care," said Brunt, as he rose to his feet.
"Brunty-bro, you should very care – toxic gas, electro-nets, railguns, disruptors!"
Brunt clenched his fists, "I don't care."
Dimple grabbed Brunt's ankle, trying to drag him backward as the Gammorrean walked out into the open, arms outstretched toward the row of twenty-plus armed Mandos behind cover. Rifles cocked and primed, grenades were handled, nets charged.
"Stars abaft, that ugly thing is a Jedi?"
"Is that a monkey-lizard?!"
"Is this a joke? Are the Jedi mocking us?!"
Brunt didn't care. His arms were open, inviting embrace or gunfire, chin held high.
"You call yourselves WARRIORS?!"
The Mandos fell silent. The doors of the freight elevator clanked shut slowly behind Brunt, yellow warning lights flashing and casting his shadow over them all.
"All I see are hostage-takers and grunts, thirsting after blood for blood's own sake! I thought you Mandalorians were about glory?!"
Dimple kept up his defensive position behind Brunt's leg. He could not help but admire the gleaming helmets he'd only seen in holovids and comics before.
Brunt pulled his compacted poleaxe from his belt and threw it on the ground with a clatter. He raised his arms again and invited attack, "no glory here. But I know where to find it."
"Is that so?"
A woman's voice, very much like a commanding alto, called over the squad of Mandos at the elevator. Behind her, Brunt saw the hostages being led at gunpoint into the shuttles.
Brunt saw the gleaming helmet of the camp coordinator and lowered his arms, "do you command this clan? End this now, release the hostages, and leave the system in peace."
"Or what, Padawan? I already took out your little agent. We have all the leverage."
Brunt lifted his chin, "what agent?"
The coordinator lifted a lightsaber from her belt and rolled it over her fingers, "cute toy. Too bad she wasn't expecting a real fight – I didn't know you Jedi could strike from the shadows like cowards."
Dimple wailed and whined, "Ren! NOOOO!"
A Mandalorian in scorched armor saw the lightsaber and shouldered his rifle. He walked toward the coordinator and examined the trophy.
"Kriff me, Galanu," he whistled, "guess I'm the wermo after all, eh?"
Galanu put the saber back on her belt, "maybe, maybe not. The point is this, Jedi: we want more than safe passage. We want payment and we want glory."
Brunt folded his arms at ease behind his back and regarded 'Galanu' seriously.
"The Nihil deployed you as mercenaries, then failed to reinforce your position, correct?"
"More or less."
"There's an ongoing, off-the-books catastrophe playing out in orbit as we speak. The Nihil that betrayed you are dead or captured."
"I thought for a moment you would offer us payment to gut them like the dogs they are, but now you tell me they're out of the fight! Do better, Jedi!"
"There is a third, unknown element. A dangerous foe. A dark force."
There were murmurs among the Mando troops. The field commander in scorched armor turned his visor toward Brunt.
"Bad luck, then."
Brunt nodded, "bad luck. And we need your help to put an end to it."
The coordinator paced behind the line of Mandalorians. She raised her hand.
"Stand down, verda'ade."
There was some hesitation, but every Mando present stood up from cover and shouldered their weaponry. The clan looked to the coordinator.
She gestured to the hostage-filled shuttles, "the Republic plays a clean game and we all know it. If this is as dire as they say, we can negotiate a tremendous fee, and face something few clans have faced – true darkness."
The Mandalorian field commander dusted off his scorched armor and considered her words. The clan looked to him, clearly considering his opinion aside the coordinator's.
"This is all true," he said, pacing around 'Galanu', "but you seem suddenly eager to throw what's left of our people into an unknown strife, against an unknown foe. We all saw that ship on the scanners from our position here. We all saw the disruptions in our equipment, the terror dreams… you'd throw us into that maw, alongside the Jedi?"
Dimple stared at the coordinator. The coordinator glanced toward Dimple. Dimple nodded emphatically at the coordinator.
She looked back at her field commander, a hand on the trophy lightsaber in her belt.
"Yes."
The field commander looked back to the clan. He flipped his head toward the shuttles, "get those civilians off the shuttles, we need the space for the clan and our war gear!"
There was no small amount of hooting and hollering on the clan's part. They were eager to divest themselves of the dirty business of hostage-taking and occupy themselves with the worthy business of war preparations and deployment.
Brunt picked up his lightsaber and stuck it in his belt. He walked to the coordinator and clasped her hand, bringing her in close.
"Looking forward to fighting by your side."
Dimple climbed onto Brunt's shoulder and grinned at the coordinator's helmet visor, "you did great! Remembered all the words I taught you, took out the –"
Galanu grabbed Dimple by the throat and lobbed him clear across the hangar, much further than any normal woman ought to be able to without the aid of the Force.
Ren whispered as low as she could to Brunt, "he can't help himself, can he?"
"No. But at least he can help others."
Dimple careened through the air on his jetpack, attracting laughs and claps from the Mandalorians below who, for all their sorties, had actually never seen a lab-augmented, armor-wearing monkey-lizard fly around on a jetpack before. It would be the beginning of a trend, as the shuttles boarded and departed the spaceport at last.
They would soon see many things they had never seen before.
There would be no unseeing.
Chapter 2 - Take It
Seeing the bulk of the Republic's standing fleet jump into high orbit over Alpheridies was not a comfort to Kayatonae. Officially, she and her Riders did not exist. There was no clout for her to throw around anymore. There would be no orders given to admirals or captains to belay whatever orders they had, though she didn't need to guess: this was quarantine.
"Pure damage control," she said, bumping the butt of her fist on the bridge window, "that's where they're at. We're under quarantine."
Tzentchen had not left Kaya's side in days. They had been holed up on that ship, bulkheads welded shut, food supplies dwindling, caring for liberated slaves and hungry soldiers who had only the emergency pilot's rations the tiny pockets of their flight suits carried: glucose cubes and deathsticks weren't much for a holdout.
All she knew was that Kaya slept better when Tzen was near. So she stayed near.
"At least that awful feedback sound is gone. Everyone is sharper for it."
Kaya pointed through the window at the mothership that had them trapped by umbilical cables, "that thing is the source. That thing is where all the trouble is at."
"Likely so, mam. Have you ever seen anything like it?"
"Yeah, in the blueprints I lifted from Sabel's implants. But that doesn't look like this Nihil ship, does it? It looks alien."
Tzen watched as one of the umbilical cables pulsed once in deadspace.
"Alien is a good word to describe it."
Kaya glared at the mothership, "well, we're almost starved. Now we all get to choose dying slow and nasty as cannibals, or breaking open the bulkheads and accepting this creepy ship's generous invitation to come aboard."
"Is it much of a choice? Our people are capable," she squeezed Kaya's hand, "you are capable, Kaya."
"I kriffing know that!"
Tzen blanched under Kaya's intensity. Realizing this, Kaya softened and turned to look at the woman who had in so many years gone from assistant to loyal partner.
She squeezed Tzen's hand right back.
"Sorry…"
"It's okay, we're all a bit strained. I just don't understand why we aren't…"
"Because I'm not sending my people into an unknown. Boarding a Nihil ship? I could comprehend that, I mean look at this thing, sure it has a weird hyperdrive, but at least it has windows and guns and other recognizable stuff, but that?!"
Kaya pointed out the window again, "that thing scares me. It's a black box. Scans fail, no windows, sending off a signal that messes with minds and electronics – you want me to walk us into that?"
Tzen didn't have an answer. She just held onto Kaya's hand.
"Commander!"
Kaya and Tzen looked toward their comms officer. He tossed a holo disc down to Kaya, who caught it and turned it on. What she saw was a potbellied Zeltron in Jedi robes. He had messy hair, bling like a Mek Sha pimp, and bags under his eyes.
"Commander Kayatonae, what a hic treat!"
Kaya blinked the dreariness from her eyes and contemplated whether or not she was hallucinating again, "this is her. Who are you?"
"Jedi Master Z, but everyone calls me Master Z – I'll cut to it. So, I'm given to understand you and your roughnecks are caught up in that ship. As it happens, I hic find myself in a similar predicament."
"Excuse me, uh, 'Master Z' – are you drunk?"
"Been at it for a while, but ran out. Can't touch my flask, that's my Bakatan Reserve."
Kaya was now absolutely sure she was hallucinating, "if you're looking for help, I'm afraid we're backed into a corner and unable to provide assistance."
"A corner? Looks to me like you're hic all connected to that big ship."
"Where are you, sir?"
"Drifting in a little shuttle nearby. They stopped delivering my pizza, stopped taking my calls – Jedi Council sent me out here but now they're hic putting up a wall."
"Sent you out here to do what, exactly? Go on a beer and pizza bender in a cargo hold?"
"Haaaaa, no. Well, yes. But hic no, I've been talking to that big ship you're hooked to."
"... you're in contact with their bridge? They haven't responded to any of our hails!"
"That's because she's in a bit of a pickle, see, it's not a normal ship, boy, oh boy," Master Z took a moment to stifle a windy belch into his fist, "excuse me. What was I – right! She's trapped in there by some kind of nasty Force relic, kind of held hostage by her own power, really scared as you might imagine, and time is running out."
Commander Kayatonae slumped down into her seat and stared at Master Z through the holo. Her brain struggled to make sense of it all. But then, she remembered how the Arkanian techs warned her of the weird 'Force-sensitive requirements' for piloting those prototypes being 'suspect' and 'fascinating' and 'probably cursed.' As the gears clicked into place one by one in Kaya's brain, she realized that this drunk Jedi's story actually made sense.
"Kriff me… okay. Okay, so you're telling me the ship is like my little prototypes I had made – needs a Jedi and their lightsaber to function. It's like a mind-link through the Force."
Master Z was bent over and breathing like a man on the edge of puking.
"Yeah… something like that. Though for her, it's a one-way trip, she's stuck in some kind of pod, says she can't feel her body anymore and she isn't sure what's happening to her."
"Who is this person, another Jedi? That why you came out for her?"
"Sabel."
"SABEL?!"
"Wait, you know Sabel?"
Commander Kayatonae stood up fast, so fast that her head swam a little.
"Yes… KRIFF!"
"... the Force works in mysterious ways, heh. But hic you know I have no idea what orders this fleet is running on or what's going on in the Jedi Council, but if I had to venture a guess based on the sheer number of guns orbiting this planet and the radio silence…"
"... we're about to get torched."
Tzen tugged Kaya's arm, "we don't know that."
"No we don't, but what we do know is that Sabel is in that creepshow ship, she's in trouble, and I've got enough supplies left for a boarding team."
Master Z bent over again, like he was about to vomit, "that's… hhhh, that's good to hear, listen I'm gonna try to dock on your ship, I'll bring up the rear right after I get some water and caf in me. That hic okay?"
"Permission to dock, but do it quick."
Kaya terminated the call and shouted orders through the bridge, "get Chok and Tok tooled up! I want them to pick out our best skulkers, double their rations! Get them fed and at the breach point in one hour! And let's use those decoy prototypes this time, all the tricks!"
Kaya's comms officer hesitated as he saw the mothership's umbilicals writhing as if in anticipation, "you want them at the breach point to that… thing, ma'am?"
"That's the one, officer."
"What's the objective?"
Kaya caught a rifle Tzen threw at her from the bridge rack. She slapped in an ion cartridge and locked it in with a kuh-KLANK of the slide.
"We're gonna take it."
Ontoroch knew his Goddess was in peril. Mighty as she was, until the last of the Padawans were processed and redeployed to their ships, until the beast droids were fully mustered in the replication bays, and until the Defiler showed contrition for his many sins against the Goddess Sabel, there could be no interruptions.
The great gravity well of Alpheridies made jumping to hyperspace a daunting prospect, one that would take hours to prime. They did not have hours. Their only solace was the fact that the Republic was very interested in capturing the mothership for dismantling and study.
He would hold them all off. There was only one entrance on that windowless mothership, and the vents expelled so much heat no conventional ship could hope to pass through. In the carrier bay, where the umbilicals connected them to the captured Nihil ship, and great hangar force fields kept the vacuum of space out, Ontoroch would hold.
And for his valor, she would love him.
She would elevate him to her side.
He was sure of it.
It was his right.
"Master Ontoroch," said one of the Padawans, her bionic eyes wide open and seeing, "they are coming for us. Do you sense it?"
"Of course I do, child. All of you, be ready on the defensive – guard my flank, stay in formation, and move as I do, or risk being cut down with our foes."
"We feel you. Not a step out of place, Master Ontoroch."
The ten other padawans at Ontoroch's side stood in the formation of a spear, with the Master himself forming the deadly tip. They watched as the first of the umbilical attachments lit up with a welding arc.
Onto smirked, "the fools are really going to cut straight in?"
The laser cutter sparked slowly around the bulkhead. What few beast droids were in reserve thrusted up on top of moored ships for elevated firing positions. Their many guns clanked and clunked as their forms shifted and braced – they became deadly turret emplacements, ready to annihilate breachers in a volley of explosive plasma.
The cutter finished tracing the bulkhead's edges. Ontoroch sensed life beyond it, about a dozen strong souls. What they were doing was unknown to him. He lit his lightsaber in anticipation of the slaughter. The ten padawans did the same, rows of humming light coming to life behind and beside him.
BOOM.
The bulkhead shot forward, a wall of thick plasteel big enough to flatten Ontoroch and every padawan, moving fast enough to do just that and leave no trace but a long smear of red and crushed lightsaber along the hangar floor. As the spear's tip, Ontoroch dashed into the bulkhead, saber aloft, and slid along his knees to cut the thing in half.
The two halves split apart and flew toward the padawans. Taking inspiration from their master, they cut the two pieces into eight, sixteen more in a flurry. The white-hot chunks of the bulkhead clanged into sizzling bits all around them.
Ontoroch had no time to taunt his enemies, because they weren't there. But then he caught the familiar shimmer of cloaked soldiers fanning out into the hangar to infest every corner – the sound of their clomping boots helped him solve the mystery as well.
"Open fire, you blasted droids!"
They obeyed. The beast droids saturated the vicinity of the breach. Domes of plasma left warped dents in the plasteel hangar floor. When the haze cleared, Ontoroch and his padawans fanned out to seek the cloaked soldiers. Ontoroch leapt toward one in a flash, his saber driving through the midsection to cut it in half. He waited for the satisfying crackle of a dead cloaking device and the reveal of a torso removed from its legs.
Instead, his saber passed through the air. He looked down to see a mouse droid projecting a hologram of a cloaking field upward and playing canned audio of clomping boots. Ontoroch screamed in frustration and crushed the droid into a wad of shrapnel.
"Show yourselves, you cowards!"
His padawans found several more of the decoy droids, crushing them as he did. Ontoroch stormed to the breach point and yelled down the tunnel: "if you are not coming willingly, then Iwill come to you! Everyone on that ship, every soldier, every Nihil, and every slave will crew the body of the Goddess Sabel as we cleanse the galaxy of degenerates and corruption!"
He waited for a response. It came in the form of a loud THOOM.
Only by the grace of the Force and tremendous reflexes was Ontoroch able to slice the massive slug in half. The halves sparked and skidded around the tunnel beside him. The soldiers at the end of the tunnel were firing from a turret behind cover, taking deadly potshots at Ontoroch and his padawans.
He would not tolerate it.
Ontoroch dashed straight down the tunnel, deflecting slug shots one after another. As he closed on the turret, he could see the gunner's black, Rodian eyes.
The Rodian tossed out a flashbang grenade and fell into a full retreat as he yelled into his wrist communicator, "what the kriff is this guy doing here – it's that traitor Jedi!"
Ontoroch pushed the grenade straight back to sender. It flew and hit the Rodian in the back, detonating and sending him into a frantic scramble on the floor. Ontoroch leaped to him, put his saber to his neck, and felt a strange sense of deja vu.
He heard Commander Kayatonae's voice on the wrist communicator: "say again last? Tok?! Say again last!"
He kicked the Rodian onto his back and pressed his boot onto the communicator.
Tok laughed, glancing down at the saber pointed at his neck, "we really gotta stop meeting like this, huh?"
"Degenerate criminal," Ontoroch seethed, raising his saber and positioning the tip for a drive straight through Tok's skull, "die a coward."
Tok clenched his eyes shut; he knew he was all-in.
The Force warned Ontoroch of danger behind him. He whipped around and brought his saber to bear. It would not be enough to stop a sawed-off scattergun from unloading two barrels straight into the side of his gut. The sheer kinetic force of the blast sent Ontoroch sailing over Tok to tumble onto the floor at the end of the tunnel.
Tok accepted the cloaked hand offering to help him up.
"Last-second is fun in holovids, Chok, but not in real life!"
Chok pulled Tok back and away. Ontoroch growled on the floor and rose slowly. As Chok flipped open his scattergun to expel empty shells, he saw Ontoroch's wound. A chunk had been blown out of his torso, but wires and cables were expanding into the missing piece. Ontoroch bent at the waist at first, like a platform with one pillar kicked out from under it, but then the cables solidified and reinforced what was gone.
Chok loaded two new shells in.
"Kriff me," he whispered, "this place is cursed…"
Chok managed to get another blast off, but this time it was not at point-blank, and Ontoroch deflected the pellet spray with a spin of his saber. Weary Tok spun the turret around to point it at Ontoroch, only for an airborne lightsaber to cut the barrel straight off. Chok whipped out his plasma blaster but lost the hand holding it, then his head. Tok couldn't scream for his best friend, because his throat was crushed inward by Ontoroch's choking grip.
With the two dead at his feet, Ontoroch realized that they were decoys. He heard another explosive breach from another umbilical tunnel at the hangar. He didn't care. He knew his padawans could handle it, particularly if the rest of the ship's clone soldiers and droids came to reinforce; which they would.
Far more interesting to Ontoroch was what lay beyond, toward the tethered Nihil ship. There were Republic commandos there who would be useful if captured alive and given eyes. Beyond that, he sensed hundreds of lives, huddled in fear and hunger… liberated slaves. They would exalt the goddess for delivering them from wretchedness.
Ontoroch left his padawans to their fate and stalked down the tunnel.
Master Z was grateful for the generosity of Kaya's Riders. These dauntless commandos were the kind who believed in camaraderie – they shared a deathstick and a precious pack of insta-caf with the weary, days-drunk Jedi Master. The moment that tar-tasting sludge hit his tongue and the smoke washed out his lungs, he felt like a new man.
He spent a good half an hour sitting slumped against the landing clamp of his shuttle, sipping caf, smoking, and meditating. The Force had his back, as it always had, and most of that channeled self-care was directed at his poor, battered liver and kidneys. He crushed the caf cup in his hand and walked to the exit of the hangar.
"Alright," he said, tossing the crushed cup into a wastebasket in the ship's elevator, "where's that dazzling Commander of yours?"
The posted commando, a burly fellow in vintage Republic shock trooper armor, hit the buttons on the elevator to take them to the bridge.
"She's at the breach," he said, "if you run you can catch her."
"I'll check on the poor folks you have in the hold, if you don't mind."
"You one of those healer Jedi? We could use one."
"Uh, I think we have maybe… one or two of those in the whole active Order right now."
"... are you one of them?"
Master Z made a face, "sorry to say I ain't."
"Too bad. Guess we'll have to double-down on the alpha strike tactics."
"The what-now?"
"Hit them first and so hard they're too dead to fight back."
"... man, why'd the Republic stop that whole 'Arsenal of Democracy' thing again?"
"We crushed all meaningful competition in the known galaxy, until now."
Master Z walked out of the elevator and gave the burly fellow finger guns on the way out.
"Stay frosty, big guy."
"Yup."
The doors slid shut. Master Z followed the signage and directions from posted commandos toward the holding area for two-hundred-some liberated slaves. He expected a throng of desperate souls clawing and crying, but what he found was an orderly hall of bunks, supply crates, and posted soldiers talking or distributing food to the liberated. They played games with the kids, distributed holovid players, and were clearly giving all the ship's seized supplies over to keep these civilians alive.
The soldiers themselves were living off of caf and deathsticks. Some of them, despite being obvious veterans from the scuffed and notched armor, had to put down hand tremors from days of hunger. Master Z felt even more grateful for the insta-caf and deathstick he'd been given.
He didn't bother them. There wasn't anything to gain from coming in as an unkempt, random Jedi when these former soldiers of the Republic had things well in hand. He left the room and followed the halls toward the breach point at one of the umbilicals.
When he arrived, there was a low barricade set up to cover the breach point with firepower. Commandos manned two turret emplacements, while the rest kneeled behind cover, guns pointed at the entrance just like Kaya ordered.
Master Z made a point of walking loudly, his sandals slapping the floor, so as not to spook the keyed-up soldiers. The squad captain broke off and greeted Master Z with a salute.
"You're the drunk Jedi the Commander mentioned. Uh… are you fit for duty?"
"Half-drunk, thanks to your generous hospitality."
"... you know, if my troops were 'half-drunk', I'd be worried."
A joke from the brigade: "Who says we're not?"
The squad laughed, but kept their sights on the breach point.
Master Z laughed too. He stuck his thumbs in his belt, just over his gut, and leaned to the side to get a look down the long umbilical tunnel.
"Spooky stuff, huh?"
"No joke," the squad captain glanced over his shoulder, "the systems on this ship are weird enough to begin with, but since we took it over, speakers and data terminals were screaming at us, driving a few men nuts. That stopped yesterday, though – hoping it doesn't come back."
Master Z stopped paying attention to the conversation.
He felt something coming down the tunnel, toward them; a disturbance in the Force. It was angry, it was vain, it was vicious, and it was pitiless.
It was also vaguely familiar.
"Get your squad out of here," he said, pushing the captain aside and walking ahead.
"What?"
"Something's coming down that pipe and it's beyond any of you. GO!"
"You might be a Jedi, but we don't answer to the Republic anymore."
"Then answer to your gut – feel that nasty chill? Feel that crawling on your skin? That feel familiar?"
The squad captain took a moment.
"Yes," he said, shuddering, "yes."
"So, fall back and hold the hall! If I die, you get those people off this ship! Go, go go!"
The captain gave the orders and put out an alert on his comms. The whole squad fell back, leaving Master Z standing at the entrance to the umbilical tunnel, alone.
He saw a violet lightsaber attached to a distant silhouette. It stopped once it saw Master Z, like a manka cat sighting its prey in the distance. Then it broke into a sprint.
Propelled by the Force, Ontoroch came down on Master Z like a thunderbolt.
Chapter 3 - Cocktail
Ontoroch leered over the glow of sparking lightsabers. Master Z could see the yellow in his eyes, the dark veins along his neck, and the sleepless darkness on his face.
"Really drinking up the dark side, huh?"
"Sabel's fat, degenerate teacher. Amazing she became what she is in spite of you."
Ontoroch channeled his will into slamming Master Z against the far wall hard enough to crack his spine. When the blast came, all that happened was Master Z sliding back on his sandals a few meters. Z's arms flailed through the air and he fumbled his little shoto lightsaber (which was a bright magenta) The hilt bounced in his palms a few times before he got a grip again.
Ontoroch laughed at the sight, "is this a joke?"
"No, sir, not a joke, sir, just an old Master trying to keep a ship of innocent people safe."
"No wonder the Order has lost its way. They'll let any lazy fool in."
"Yeah," Master Z hiccuped and raised his small lightsaber in an icepick grip between himself and Ontoroch, "I think about that a lot, too."
A full red alert blasted through the ship: "evacuation protocols – engis, techs, we gotta figure those escape pods out! Women and children first!"
Ontoroch smirked.
"Why not step past me? Go help subdue those poor, 'brainwashed' padawans before your trigger-happy commandos gun them down like mad beasts."
"Didn't take you for a coward."
Ontoroch stopped pacing.
"I intend to take these people alive," he said.
"Wow, what a guy. Gotta go through me first."
"You and your little pink lightsaber?"
"Just me and pinky. No sweat, right Ontoroch, Son of Malach, who traces his bloodline back to the Old Republic's greatest knights? Or uh, was it the Sith? I forget, looking into the past always seemed like a waste of time to me."
Ontoroch came at Z in force, with vicious sweeps and flourishing blows of immense power and effort. Z was on full defense, deflecting the blows side-to-side, conserving energy and negating these power attacks with flicks of the wrist and a few steady footsteps.
Ontoroch spoke between swings, "you can't win by never attacking, old man!"
"Pretty sure you win when your opponent stops fighting."
Ontoroch laughed, slamming his saber straight down to force another clash. He channeled all his might into it, pushed Z back and down, until it looked like the old master was trying to play the world's worst game of lethal limbo despite his hanging gut.
But he bent back as limber as a reed and held his ground.
Ontoroch pushed until their crossed sabers nearly touched the Zeltron's throat. Then Master Z felt three days of pizza and liquor, topped with insta-caf and a lot of water, gurgling in his guts. He belched straight into Ontoroch's face and it reeked.
The Force is a powerful thing. Those who wield it are revered and feared across the galaxy. However, it is known by some, such as certain Republic special forces units, Mandalorians, as well as especially savvy criminals, that users of the Force need to channel intense focus in order to perform their miracles.
This made dirty fighting crucial to overcoming those reliant on the Force.
And that belch was indeed dirty.
Ontoroch doubled-back, overcome by sudden nausea. As Onto dry-heaved, Master Z patted his gut and picked up his flask in his free hand.
"Pardon me," he said, "been playing budget therapist to a scared woman in some kind of alien pod for days, living on nothing but cheap takeout and booze."
"How…" Ontoroch dry-heaved again, "hhhhow did you resist the song?"
"I was lit like a Life Day parade the whole time. Being drunk kept the crazy song out."
Ontoroch laughed. He laughed and laughed, rubbing and raking at his face, "of course it does, of course it did, why not, after all?! Why not?!"
Master Z had no response. He uncapped his flask and tipped it back, draining it while Ontoroch ranted about degenerates and absurdity or something. Z was tuning him out.
'Okay, kid," Master Z wiped his lips with his sleeve, "get your licks in while you can."
Ontoroch lunged at him, full force and swinging hard, "while I can?!"
This time, Master Z was pushed back hard. It became more and more difficult to cleanly deflect strikes. Z's Soresu technique was as ironclad as any master's, but Ontoroch was a Djem-so freight train driving the old Zeltron back meter by meter.
Ontoroch relished the progress, "while I can, old man?!"
"Give it a minute," Z clutched out a particularly tricky parry that left his arms outstretched. Ontoroch drove in for the kill, but not before Z used the ancient and elegant technique known by some as 'Force Stomp.' Ontoroch screamed as his toes were smashed under Master Z's piston-like heel. The fact that Onto had been wearing plasteel boots only made it worse, as the dented metal had become a painful prison for his foot.
Ontoroch's vanity was once again devastated, as he had to hop around on one foot and rip his dented boot from his foot. While that happened, Master Z drank the last drops from his flask and stuck it back in his sash. He could feel the sweet fuzz of the buzz coming on.
"There it is," he said, smiling and wavering gently like drunken grass in a drunken breeze, "there's that Bahkata heat. You ready to go, kid?"
Ontoroch ripped off his other boot, then his shirt, baring his glistening abs and cut arms. He was indeed as hard and shapely as a Zabrak warrior demigod, and the chunk blown out of his torso was already solid and looked like armor mesh, with the skin slowly regrowing itself over the synthetic fibers meant to replace his muscles.
"No more talk," he said, as he slapped the hilt of his lightsaber. It clicked, then telescoped out a few inches to accommodate a two-handed grip more readily. The blade itself brightened, then grew in length. Ontoroch smiled as he slid into a fighting stance.
Master Z blinked at the display. He scratched his gut, then, turned and ran the opposite direction, down the hall toward the interior of the ship.
Ontoroch gave chase, that over-long lightsaber sparking a molten gouge in the plasteel floor of the ship's hall, "are you KIDDING ME, old man?!"
Another one of Kaya's men dropped from a lightsaber cut. The Riders were rough customers, but they had not been expecting ten hateful padawans and droid artillery as a welcoming committee. Her squad was down to seven, from the ten she started with.
Kaya took the shot. The cheeky padawan who dove onto their barricade to take a life had her body blasted with a full mag. As the stream of electricity caused the padawan to jolt and shake to the point of her saber falling from her grip, Kaya made low and slow advance.
As the clip emptied and auto-ejected, Kaya lifted her rifle and drove the stock into the padawan's temple. She hoped the girl was out cold, but there was always the possibility of severe concussion or a heart attack. But Kaya couldn't worry about that right now.
"Juaret, hunker down and re-smoke!"
"Heard!"
Engineer Juaret dove down behind their barricade while tossing a smoke grenade over the side. It exploded into thick, purple plumes. The two other combat engineers followed smoke protocol to the letter: they dropped frontal-blast mines over the barricade to deter melee aggression, then restocked the battery on their shield generator.
It was just in time. The droid artillery pounded the dome of the shield and took the fresh battery's capacity down 30% in a single volley.
"Commander! Orders!"
Kaya reloaded her rifle, "the only way out is through!"
"Heard!"
"GRENADIERS, LET'S KRIFFING GO!"
The two grenadiers in the squad clunked flashbangs, poison grenades, and EMP detonators into their triple-barrel launchers. They blind-fired through the smoke, using their snoopers to get the spec on the padawans and droids' general positioning.
Thoonk, thoonk, thoonk.
The grenades sailed through the air. To the padawans, they sensed the projectiles through the haze, but they were not masters, and while the dark side was mighty, it did not lend itself to defense or caution. Two EMP grenades collided with the droids on the ships. A few padawans managed to slice the other grenades in half reflexively, but this just caused a cocktail of toxic gas and flashbang to deafen, blind, and asphyxiate them.
"GO GO GO!"
Kaya led the charge with the three shock troopers who were on overwatch reserve. They were big lads carrying ion rifles much like Kaya's, though they were taller and stronger than her, with enough core bulk to rifle-butt a charging rancor's kneecaps inward. They, unlike the padawans, had the benefit of being fully-armored in rebreather helmets.
They rushed into the chaos of the poison gas. Kaya heard a skull crack as one lad slammed his rifle butt into a reeling padawan.
She winced at the brutality of it, but there was no time for second-guessing. She drove her stock into a padawan's gut, forcing out wind and crumpling him to the ground. Another crack, and another, then a lightsaber screeching as it sparked on heavy armor. Kaya saw as one of her men had a lightsaber in his gut, but his armored hand around a padawan's throat, and his fist punching into the young man's face over and over until it resembled more and more of a flat, red smear with every passing heartbeat.
Kaya's Riders didn't have any setting but full throttle. The politician in Kaya knew that this was beyond a disaster, that she and her people were effectively brutalizing Jedi padawans (corrupted or not), and that the aftermath of this KUBAR situation would be something she'd be lucky to spend the rest of her life in prison over.
But there wasn't time to think about that. She whipped her comms up to her mouth, "Togru, take the shot!"
Somewhere, cloaked and cozy behind crates in a flanking position, Kaya's best marksman had been waiting for his chance. With the droids briefly stunned by EMP, it was like shooting rats off a rock. The anti-droid rifle (which was basically a miniature ion cannon) was taller than he was and had taken a full minute to set up during the chaos of the various diversions, but now he had his finger on the trigger.
BOOM.
The shot was like a comet. It streaked through the hangar and carved glowing holes through both droids, right along their delicate neck joints that supported the bulk of their weight. They dropped, headless and defanged.
Kaya heard the good news on comms: "Enemy artillery neutralized."
"Mop it up, Riders!"
The whole squad leapt out of cover, sidearms blazing: "HEARD!"
In less than fifteen seconds, ten padawans were on the ground, unconscious, wheezing, and/or possibly dying. With two men down from lightsaber wounds, the squad's only medic did what he could with kolto injections and compression, but the prognosis wasn't great.
Equally not great was the opening of the hangar doors to the interior of the ship. Four more beast droids, a giant named Thadus, a reformed 'Defiler' named Nemo, a brace of a dozen or so armed Nihil, five more corrupted padawans, and the Twi'lek high priestess and her staff of winding cables, marched in to join the fight.
Nemo grabbed an electro-whip from his belt and cracked it in the air, "for the Goddess Sabel, redeemer of the wicked and the lost!"
Kaya's rifle sank in her grip, "what the fresh kriffing hell is this."
They were standing out of cover, in the middle of the hangar. Most of their clips were empty and two were wounded. But their sniper was still in position.
A comet-like shot lanced through the air toward the reinforcements. It blew Thadus' head clean off of its neck, leaving a scorched stump behind.
The shock of the ambush bought the flat-footed squad enough time to scatter out of the open toward cover, some behind crates, some back to the barricade and shield generator, some behind the landing gear of a nearby corvette. Kaya dug in behind the landing gear in the middle of the hangar with one of her shock troopers.
Thadus' massive body collapsed onto the floor.
"Reloading!"
"Covering!"
They could still win this. Kaya loaded a precision plasma cartridge into her rifle as her foxhole buddy threw a grenade into the reinforcements. They had to scatter and as they did, Kaya took three clean shots, two of which were to heads, another to a groin; three Nihil dropped.
"We've got this!"
The grenadiers were reloading with engineer support behind the shield barrier. Kaya knew all they had to do was buy them time – or so she thought. Two more giants walked through the hangar doors; Thadus was being cloned.
Nemo's men dropped artificial cover barriers and the shots from Kaya's troopers pinged off the dome. He smiled.
"Thadus has been perfected by our Goddess, with more being made as we speak!"
On top of all that horror, shuttles flew through the hangar's shields and hovered over the site of the battle. Kaya hunkered down behind cover with the trooper at her side.
"Sorry," she said, "guess the good old days are really gone."
"Commander, look."
"I know, I know – face my fate with dignity."
"No, look."
Kaya didn't want to look. The weight of her failures had finally broken her back.
"JURK'ADIR, MANDO'ADE!"
"Brrrriikase, my verda'ade!"
"Mesh'la, what a battle!"
It was a riot of voices, all filtered through helmets, accompanied by the sound of rappel cables whipping from shuttle doors, and plenty of gunfire.
Kaya dared to look. What she saw was a full battalion of hard-hitting, blaster-slinging Mandalorians sliding down from troop shuttles, screaming through the air on thrusters, and taking sniper shots from cockpits. They had hard-engaged the reinforcements and just in time – the hangar was getting crowded with more and more of them from the ship's depths.
Kaya's back snapped upright again and she leveled her gun at the chaos, but she was interrupted by yet another shuttle sliding into the hangar through the fields. It slid close to her and its doors opened. An enormous Gamorrean in Jedi robes stepped out, polesaber in hand. What sounded like a cackling monkey lizard boosted out over him, wearing a jetpack?
Once again, Kaya was unsure if she was hallucinating or not.
"Uh," she said.
Brunt held a hand to his own head. The Force on the ship was a twisted mess of threads. He felt Sabel's fear and agony, like a wounded animal cornered in a cage. He felt Master Z's desperate peril. He felt Ontoroch's burning fury. Brunt had to snap himself out of it.
"I am Brunt," he shouted, "Jedi Padawan! Friendlies?!"
Kayatonae shouted back, "Commander Kayatonae, Kaya's Riders! You and your Mandos have got some dramatic timing!"
Brunt pointed at her with a finger as big around as her wrist, "hold this position with the Mandalorians and your life! I am needed elsewhere, but I will return!"
"Heard that!"
Kaya grinned through her helmet, snapped a grenade from her belt, and whirled around, whipping it toward the natural chokepoint of the crowded hangar doors. As more reinforcements poured through, the explosion proved mightily efficient at dusting half a dozen Nihil clones.
Brunt nodded in grim approval. He knew too much of the horrors of this place to worry for the loss of life – this was an alien ship bent on desecration and replication. There would be ample time to burn it down, once Sabel was dealt with, or perhaps saved.
He followed the threads of the Force and charged down the nearby breach tunnel. As he passed over Chok and Tok's bodies, he stopped. He recognized them.
Brunt did not know if Master Z could hold out long, but he could not bear to see the two strewn about and cut apart like slaughtered animals forgotten in a field.
He muttered to himself: "there is no death. There is only the Force. Peace."
He dragged their bodies to the sides of the tunnel and put the pieces back together. He closed their eyes and stood up, satisfied with the work. Then he turned and charged down the tunnel anew, the whole umbilical tunnel shuddering and swaying under the force of him.
Tzentchen stood on the bridge of the Nihil ship, among comms officers and field engineers, all of whom were desperately working to crack the foreign ship's encryption for good and get the escape pods working. Under the flashing lights of a red alert, she took it upon herself to brew the crew a pot of fresh caf.
Outside of a cockpit or a driver's seat, she wasn't much good to anyone. So she was always thinking of the little things soldiers and politicians often forgot. The caf pot burbled and brewed, the dark roast going drip, drip, drip by the second. Half full.
She was doing her best not to look at the gigantic, eerie mothership that dominated the view of the bridge's command window. It was better to focus on the caf pot.
WHAM!
The doors of the bridge flew open. In rushed Master Z, staggering around and licking at the neck of a flask, "you all gotta run, you gotta go hic he's right behind me hic, and I'm –"
"Master Z, who – what?!"
Master Z waved Tzentchen off, "you gotta blllch run, kid, you gotta go, he's–"
Master Z stumbled over a swivel chair, one of many in that bridge so crowded with blinking terminals and office equipment. Z rolled across the floor, belly flat over the arms of the chair, his lit lightsaber in hand. He then tumbled off of it and kicked it hard toward the open doorways of the bridge. A flash of a long, purple lightsaber cut it into singed halves.
Tzentchen's knees buckled at the sight of Ontoroch in that state. Her eyes welled up with tears, "O-Onto…?"
Ontoroch met her eyes. Upon recognizing her, his neck vein bulged, his jaw clenched, and she recognized in him an expression of absolute hatred.
"Are all the women I've ever loved here to mock me?"
"I-I'm not mocking you, Onto…"
"At least Sabel ascended! At least she gave me purpose! But you?!"
Tzentchen stumbled backward, an entire office pool of chairs and terminals between them. Her hand clutched the table the caf brewed on.
Drip, drip, drip.
"You," said Ontoroch, as he outstretched his arm toward her.
She felt her throat closing.
"You," he seethed, tightening his grip and lifting her toes inches from the floor, "you're just a disgusting, degenerate, lying whore."
Ontoroch's focus broke as a ceramic mug with the words 'Don't Talk to Me Until I've Had My Caf' on it collided with the side of his head at Force-push speeds. He dropped Tzentchen just in time to pivot and meet Master Z's charge with his blade.
But it wasn't a charge, it was more of a controlled, lunging stumble that made no sense. Z's lightsaber had become a disc of whirling distraction flying for Onto's neck, forcing him to correct once again and deflect with his blade. Master Z grabbed for Onto's dominant wrist, but Onto stepped back and broke the attempt, only for another, and another, and then a stomp to the foot but Onto had wised up to that little trick.
Master Z was shoved back by the force, on his butt into a rolling chair that spun around and made him even dizzier than before. His lightsaber flew back into his hand.
Commandos posted at the door to the hold full of civilians rushed in to provide covering fire. They unloaded their blaster rifles in controlled bursts, forcing Ontoroch to commit to deflection defense. These commandos fired in bursts and ducked immediately after in anticipation of deflection. The shots flew right over their helmets.
Ontoroch found their expert training to be most frustrating.
Master Z sprang up into a crouch on the spinning chair, "hold your fire, lunks, he may be a jerk, but he's still a Jedi!"
He then did a backflip out of the chair and punted it toward Ontoroch with the tip of his toes. Ontoroch sliced it in two and then readied the tip of his blade for the inevitable charge. Master Z staggered inward, but it was a feint, and the tip of Onto's saber buzzed just over Z's nose as he flailed his arms and leaned back. He dropped his lightsaber again and it came alive, spinning toward Ontoroch's flank and biting into his thigh deep enough to cut the bone.
Ontoroch's pain only fueled the fury. That fury manifested as a scream directed straight at Master Z, a scream so powerful it shredded the sleeves of his robes. But rather than stand against it, Master Z went with the flow, tumbling backwards like a bundle of weeds and flopping along the floor and over chairs. Ontoroch leaped in after, lightsaber driving down only to hit the floor as Master Z rolled to the side, then the other side, then he brought up his saber to block the last one, while his legs kicked up and out, clamping down one Ontoroch's ankle and wrenching his pudgy body into a dynamic spin that simultaneously brought Onto toppling off balance while Z's shoto saber kept the longer lightsaber at bay with repeating, spinning strikes.
The old drunken master spun to his feet, then wobbled with nausea.
"That," he wheezed, "all you got… hic… kid?"
Ontoroch rolled into a terminal with such force that his torso shattered the controls and sparked electricity across his body. He rose despite it, eyes and muscles twitching as he focused the energy into his blade by the Force, then pointed it at Master Z to channel it and his own power reserves straight into him.
Master Z had never actually faced Force lightning before – he was no Shadow, no hunter of Dark Forces, just a washed up master good with at-risk younglings. He immediately turned his focus inward to try and keep himself from being boiled from the inside-out.
Tzentchen coughed and rose from the floor finally, rubbing at her neck. She tried to scream at Ontoroch, but all that came out was a squeak.
Drip, drip, drip.
She remembered the caf pot, now three-quarters full of scalding liquid. Tzentchen dragged herself wheezing toward it. Her vision pulsed in and out. When she rose to her feet, her eyes blacked out from the shock. She had to take a moment to steady herself, but she could hear Master Z gurgling in pain, feel the heat of the lightning on her back.
The commandos raised their rifles and pointed them at Ontoroch's back. Master Z saw them, even through his paralyzed agony, and managed to gurgle: "Don't."
They swore and took cover again, forced by honor to watch as Z's pink skin got a little redder moment by moment.
Tzentchen heard a rumble like distant, heavy footsteps sprinting toward them. As her vision faded back in, it was just in time to see a massive Gamorrean in Jedi robes leaping over the bridge's many terminals to drive the butt of his polesaber down onto Ontoroch's spine.
Master Z fell to the ground, smoldering on his hands and knees.
Ontoroch absorbed the blow, having sensed it moments before. It hurt, but it didn't shatter him. He twisted around and hopped back, moving like liquid into a savage overhead counterattack. That blade came down on Brunt like a cleaver, but he caught it with the cortosis-woven haft of his polesaber – just enough to guard. Sparks flew.
Ontoroch grinned, "one-on-one this time, fatty?"
Brunt's face was a mask of stone. He was a good head taller than the already tall Ontoroch, and leaned in with all his might, forcing the sparking contact point between them close to Onto's face. He then pulled up, scraping the haft of his polesaber along Onto's very long blade; a cascade of white-hot sparks spewed into Ontoroch's eyes.
Not even the Dark Side could save him from his eyes being scoured like they were pressed into a frying pan. He staggered backwards, and Master Z fell into a tired roll toward the backs of Onto's knees, colliding with him like a loose barrel. Onto tripped, but fell into tight backwards roll that ended with him back on his feet, blade pointed at Brunt.
"Don't you all get it," he said, as his eyes went from milky and red to bright yellow once more, "I've been given a gift. The endless well of the Force's power, gifted by ancient forces wiser and greater than anything our pathetic Republic has ever produced."
Brunt planted the butt of his polesaber in the ground with a CLANG.
"Interesting opinion. I have one of my own."
"What's that, 'Jedi'?"
"You're nothing without that big lightsaber of yours."
Ontoroch killed his saber and stuck it in his girdle. He rolled his shoulders and gave Brunt a razor grin, "you know, mass isn't everything."
Ontoroch whipped his hand forward, gripping Brunt's throat through the Force.
Brunt cleared his throat.
Ontoroch focused all of his will into the task. Both hands now, fingers curled into claw shapes, wringing Brunt's throat by the Force, but Brunt's neck was as thick with muscle and fat as Ontoroch's lean, muscular waist.
Brunt walked toward Ontoroch slowly, "guess mass counts for something."
Brunt's hand wrapped around the entirety of Ontoroch's other hand had him by the groin and squeezed while lifting Ontoroch clear above his head. Ontoroch thrashed, but the grip was much too complete.
Master Z stumbled to his feet, "Brunt… don't do it in anger, kiddo, just…""
Brunt stared at his childhood mentor, straight into his eyes, gaze as set as cold steel. Master Z trailed off, realizing this was going to happen. And it was going to happen not from rage or righteous anger, but necessity.
"He's malignant," said Brunt, folding Ontoroch inward like a piece of flimsy wood.
"I know."
"It's not on you, Master Z."
The sound of Ontoroch's spine snapping in half over Brunt's knee was as sharp as it was wet. The screaming afterwards was enough to make Tzentchen's knees buckle again. She slumped down onto the floor and wept. The nearby commandos cheered.
Master Z collected Ontoroch's saber and looked down at him. The fallen Jedi was paralyzed from the neck down and his face was wet with tears of agony, but still contorted into a hateful scowl. Whatever had repaired him before didn't seem much capable of mending something as complex as a spinal column on the fly.
Brunt walked to the caf table and knelt down beside Tzentchen.
"I'm sorry. I sense you had a history with him."
"He wasn't always like this…"
"Maybe. It can be complicated with the Dark Side."
She curled up into a ball and hid her face in her knees.
Brunt stood up and grabbed the caf pot, "can I have this?"
She glanced up, "sure, but it's boiling hot–"
Brunt lifted the pot of steaming caf up and gulped it down like it was milk.
Chapter 4 - Beyond Disaster
Unnamed Jedi Flagship, High Orbit, Alpheridies
Master Fen and the Knight Commander stood staring at the alien ship through the quiet observation deck of the Order's designated flagship. In his hand, the Knight Commander gripped a hewn talisman once worn around the neck of Master Brijet; his thumb rubbed the smooth stones as if it were a comforting rosary.
"This is beyond disaster," he said.
Master Fen found his attachment to the object concerning, but given that much of this catastrophe was the result of her own decisions, she could judge no one.
"The Temple and Coruscant are secure," she could not look away from the mothership.
"For now, in the immediate – but what of the future?"
"What of it, Knight Commander?"
"What of the incompetence and arrogance that led us to this insanity?"
"I understand you seek someone or something to blame, but this entire situation has been an act of the Force itself – there is no accounting for the subtle mysteries of the Force."
"I grow so tired of your meaningless 'wisdom.' We could have prevented this, foreseen this, something could have been done differently."
"And yet," she looked at him finally, "it was not done differently, despite the best efforts and attempts at foresight by those in your Order who specialize in these matters. I am supposed to be the 'grandmaster', whatever that means, of ancient lore and understanding dark forces, yet how could I have ever predicted we would be sending our own into such a horror?"
"Perhaps. It is not the time to debate, besides – now is the time for action. And I say that thing, this 'Ghost Engine' must be destroyed. It is malignant."
"And what of the innocent people aboard?"
The Knight Commander rubbed Brijet's talisman with his thumb and glared at the mothership, "what of them? You explained it clearly to all of us – this thing pollutes both mind and body until nothing remains. We saw what just a splinter of its power did to our Temple, to our minds. How can we allow such a thing to exist?"
"So we will annihilate it, along with every innocent soul aboard? Those soldiers? The captives? Sabel, Dao, Master Z, our padawans?"
The Knight Commander did not respond.
She folded her arms gently behind her back and tilted her head, "your son?"
The Knight Commander's face turned to stone. He pocketed the talisman near his heart, "Ontoroch made his choices. I had always feared he might come to a bad end. Had he never met Sabel, and stuck to long-patrol, and stayed within his depth, this would never have happened."
"Perhaps."
"The Order and the Republic come first."
"It's not my command to give, I can only counsel you."
"And your counsel is?"
"Your judgment is sound. This thing cannot exist. It is like a black hole, something beyond the Dark Side, something so corruptive and powerful that all who now reside on that ship lay beyond an event horizon. Even if we came aboard to rescue them, there is no telling what taint they, or we, would bring back."
The Knight Commander turned and marched toward the room's exit, "then our task is even more urgent than I thought. Maintain the order of quarantine, Master Fen. We cannot let our hearts get in the way of protecting the entirety of the galaxy from this contamination."
Master Fen lingered at the window, her hand over the thick glass. The mothership had a kind of beauty to it, its black, windowless form long and sleek, studded by small lights that mimicked the stars. It was easy to miss, despite its immense size.
While she knew the order to destroy it was correct, she could not shake the sense that something was off. There was a snag in the Force, an elusive detail wriggling just out of reach of her mind's eye, and while she had up until this point chalked it up to the general aura of uncertainty and dread hanging over them all since the Ghost Engine's discovery, now, as she gazed upon the thing itself, she felt something was missing.
She had felt that way for at least a day, since the song stopped.
To an outside observer, the ship seemed all but derelict. It did not fire its weapons,
launch fighters or corvettes, engage its thrusters, or anything of the sort. It just sat in orbit, as if depressed, utterly exposed and surrounded on all sides by the bulk of the Republic's fleet.
What was wrong? What was she missing?
Master Fen lifted her holocomms disc from her robe pocket. Her finger scrolled through her contacts, to Padawan Brunt. She saw that she had screened several calls from him in the past week and felt a sense of… wrongness, about it. The order of quarantine made sense when they were still worried for the danger of the Ghost Engine's song. But the thing was silent.
Was it a trap? A ruse? Some clever feint? Why was it silent?
Master Fen pressed the button. The call rang and rang. Then, it picked up.
"Brunt? Are you well, can you tell me anything? We have no insight into–"
Gunfire, screaming, shouting, metallic screeching, Brunt's own labored breathing.
"Get the wounded back!"
"The breach point is up ahead!"
"Verda'ade, clan friends, we have the flank!"
"What the kriff is on the walls?! Are those snakes?!"
"KKKKKKKKZZZZHTZZZZZZ–"
The call dropped.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up like bristles. She scrolled to Master Z and called him immediately. "Master Z, come in. This is Master Fen."
Master Z's voice was cracked, but as jovial as ever, "heeeeey, this gal! Look who decided to stop screening my kriffing calls, what a miracle!"
"I apologize, Master Z, but the quarantine is still in effect. I am disobeying the will of the Council itself to make this call."
"They don't have an earthly clue about all this, do they?"
"Do you?"
"KRIFF NO! Whatever Sabel got herself mixed up in, it's some galaxy-ending, scary stuff, Fen, and that's the truth of it."
"Do you think she is…"
"Dead or alive? No. Maybe somewhere between, but I'm so tired I couldn't say."
"Are you with the padawans?"
"I'm on the bridge of that commandeered Nihil ship. I'm waving at you from the window but you probably can't see me with a moonslength between us."
"Tell me everything. Please – and quickly."
Master Z did his best, but the poor fellow had been pushing his body and consciousness for days on end. With some stops and starts, he explained he had Ontoroch in a containment cell and had put himself in charge of watching over him with most of Kaya's Riders. Everyone else had stormed the mothership with the intention of cutting Sabel out from the heart of it.
Master Fen had to stop him, "and they aren't under its control?"
"No, they aren't. Look, there's stuff you need to know about Sabel, before she stopped talking to me. They put her in this Force-pod that connected her to the ship, like it's her own body. Last I spoke to her, she wasn't sure where it ended and she began, if she even still had a body. Dao had been in there with her, but I guess the padawans managed to get her out, crash on Alpheridies, and even secure a Mandalorian clan to help them storm the damn thing."
"Those… are some very resourceful padawans you raised, Master Z."
"Rat Clan doesn't play games, Fen, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little proud."
Master Fen sensed someone coming toward the observation deck, just down the hall, "Master Z, quickly. Why did the song stop?"
"The song?"
"The dark signal, the song, the thing that drove us to madness –"
"I dunno why it stopped, your guess is–"
"And when did they rescue Dao, did you say? Where did they go?"
"Uh… a couple days ago?"
The dots connected.
Dao.
The song.
The rescue.
As the observation deck doors opened, Master Fen had terminated the call and slid the disc neatly into her pocket, none the wiser. In walked one of her sage attendants, who bowed.
"Master Fen. There is a situation that requires your discernment and discretion."
"Speak quickly and walk with me."
Master Fen walked out of the room and proceeded down the long hall of the ship, her attendant beside her. They spoke in low tones.
Her attendant leaned in, "there is a Miralukan scoutship, unregistered and off of radar, hiding beneath this vessel."
"I thought the spaceport to Alpheridies was locked down?"
"It was cleared an hour or so ago, Master Fen."
"But the system is still quarantined, yes?"
"Yes, Master Fen. None of the Mandalorians fled the system, they went… Well, we're not exactly sure where they went, but there have been no jump signatures."
Another piece slipped into place. Mandalorian aid. The Rat Clan Padawans. Brunt.
"... and this scoutship?"
"It is hailing on an encrypted frequency… the one that you gave Sabel, for emergencies."
At that moment, a yellow alert lit the hallway and an announcement crackled over the ship's speakers: "All hands, prepare for lineship formation and ion cannon priming procedure one-tag-one, this is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill, all hands…"
She did not have much time before that mothership was to be reduced to ionized space slag and all its occupants and their mysteries lost.
Master Fen's stately stride grew a bit longer and quicker, "prep my shuttle."
The Miralukan ship looked like it was spun from silk and glass. Like all vessels native to Alpheridies, it was designed to be compulsively stripped-down. Master Fen did not know that this was so Miralukan Seekers could come and go from their high-gravity planet as they liked, off radar and unregistered to Republic authority, for sightseeing trips across their solar system and even beyond.
Luka Sene members were fond of 'star soaks,' which were meditation tours in small, spherical, zero-G observation decks that made one feel as if they were drifting in space. Ships like this one were a way to enjoy them while remaining so nimble and lightweight that most radar and heat signature detection systems saw nothing.
From the window through the airlock of the shuttle, Master Fen admired the bubble-like extrusion of the ship's observation deck. When this was all over, she decided she wanted one for herself.
The pilot's voice crackled through the airlock speakers, "okay, they are giving you permission to come aboard, Master Fen."
Fen pulled on her helmet and tightened her exosuit. The airlock depressurized, then opened to the black of space. She leapt across the space between the two ships, with the immense belly of that Republic capital ship above them, and the endless black below her. Her magboots connected with the other airlock and she walked in. It shut behind her and repressurized.
A familiar voice, one she hadn't heard in decades, spoke through the airlock speaker of the Miralukan ship: "Welcome aboard, old friend."
Master Fen, despite all the stress and terror of the past week, smiled. She took off her helmet and unzipped her exosuit, then stepped out onto the bridge of the tiny ship. It was more of a large cockpit, with two tall chair backs, and some wooden chimes tinkling gently between them over the ship's flight yokes. One chair spun around, and there she was, with a little more silver in those dark braids than Fen remembered.
Seeker Vritali rose to embrace Master Fen, and it was well-received.
Master Fen even wiped a bit of dampness from her eye, "my friend, there is something I must tell you, about your… about Dao."
"Why not tell her yourself?"
The co-pilot chair swiveled around and there was Dao, sitting cross-legged with a placid look on her face, like nothing bad had ever happened in the galaxy.
Fen doubled-back, holding her saber up in her hand defensively, but not lit. Seeker Vritali also stepped back, "Fen?!"
"She is not as she seems, Seeker Vritali, and I fear you too may have been corrupted!"
Dao stared at her with that empty face, "you mean Akama, the alien spirit?"
Master Fen, for once, felt out of her depth. Tentatively, she lowered her saber, "I sense no darkness about this ship, or either of you. Yet you know of what I speak."
Seeker Vritali placed a hand on Fen's shoulder, "the deed was done, Fen. That Rakatan fiend chose the wrong woman's granddaughter to possess."
Fen felt faint and she leaned back against a wall, "posession? Did it spread its… its sickness to anywhere else?"
"No, Fen. I may not be a great Jedi or a great warrior, but I'm a Seeker and a student of the subtle mysteries of the Force. Had I tried to fight the being, I would have…"
"I understand, my friend. I sense your grief. Who did you lose?"
"My husband, Tomi, he… he saved us both. Bought us time."
Master Fen held her old friend's hand in supportive silence.
Dao stood up and did the same.
They all took a moment of meditation, together. They felt the hum of the ship's life support beneath their feet and were grateful. They sensed the pain and fear of those in all the ships around them and were mournful. They sensed the peace in one another and were peaceful. And then they let all of that, and each other's hands, go.
Master Fen opened her eyes again and saw the Mothership in the distance.
"They are preparing to destroy it."
Seeker Vritali tilted her head, "it?"
"All of it, Vritali. Sabel, our friends in the Order, the soldiers, the innocents – all of it, to save the greater galaxy and the Republic. They do not understand the complexities, and until now, neither did I."
Dao leapt into the cockpit and grabbed the yoke of the ship, flipping on thrusters and turning off silent running. Fen and Vritali could scarcely grab onto something before the young woman had blasted them toward the mothership at full speed.
Within the very depths of the mothership, a young Twi'lek staggers into the Chamber of the Mother. Above her, the Great Pod pulses and writhes, its milky surface glowing with dim blue radiation and the many limbs of her sleeping Goddess, Sabel.
The Twi'lek drops to her hands and knees before the altar of the pod. Her wounds gush blue blood, but gentle tendrils slide from the pools beneath the pod to mend her. Grateful, she gazes up toward the Goddess Sabel, and weeps.
"Please awaken! Please! Why have you gone silent?!"
The only reply was the thrum of the ship's systems and the creaking, squelching pulse of the pod. The Twi'lek screamed, "PLEASE!"
"I cannot help you."
"You promised us! You showed us! You gave us your eyes and your dreams and now you abandon us? You torment us with your torments, your memories, and now we are alone?!"
"I am not a goddess. I am just a woman. And I am so tired."
"We KNOW that! You were wretched once, like us all!"
"I still am. Whatever form this place has forced upon me, I will always be wretched."
"Then… then so be it. Be wretched. But help us, those who were wronged as you were… before you came here, I was the Defiler's slave. He was…"
"I know."
Nemo burst through the doors, carried by a Thadus, and bleeding over the giant's arms, "O' GREAT GODDESS SABEL!"
The young Twi'lek winced under the sound of his voice, even now.
The pod above pulsed. "Speak."
"Oh great goddess, please! More soldiers! More beasts! More droids, more giants! Let us please you with the glorious slaughter of those who would oppose!"
"I am not a goddess."
"Wh-what?! Don't be silly, goddess! Come now, show us your true form! Come out of that egg of yours and rip them all apart, just like your heart desires, just as you did to me so many times – deservedly so, I may add."
He hopped down from Thadus' arms. But the tendrils by the pool did not heal him. He looked up to the giant pod, "did I not earn my eyes? You showed me the pains I inflicted upon you, as if they were my own, and I have atoned!"
"You do not understand who I am."
"O-of course not, other than that you are a goddess who will scour wickedness from the galaxy! You'll flay it all from the cruel and the depraved, every rapist, every murderer, every sadist, you'll turn empathy upon them and make them repent!"
"Enough."
Nemo's mouth sewed itself shut by living wires that sprouted from his skin. He fell to his knees and simply bled. The young Twi'lek stood up and spat on him.
"Defiler, always, even in repentance," she kicked his wound and he whimpered in pain.
"Enough, both of you. Don't you… don't you see? It was never me. It was Akama."
"... who, my goddess?"
"It… doesn't matter, anymore. I was to be her vessel. I was to have sweet release, to be undone and no more. But now I am the vessel and aware. It is like being a stranger in my own form, whatever that form is…"
"Whatever that form is, my Goddess –"
"You may call me Sabel."
"... my Sabel. Whatever that form is, it will be beautiful, and it will be just."
"Maybe."
"Please, my Sabel," she opened her arms and walked halfway into the pools, serpent-like cables caressing her legs, "reveal yourself to us. Let the misguided invaders see your beauty and then be given eyes, so that without the song, they can know your pain and the true depths of suffering this galaxy hides. Let no one become complacent ever again. Ever."
The Thadus pounded a fist into his palm, "I'll second that. Complacency is how you get weaklings and villains. Scum, like I was. Like this Deflier."
Thadus flicked his finger at Nemo, who now lay prostrate and bleeding on the ground.
The pod above them creaked and squelched. Then, a long, black talon wrought from some unknown Rakatan alloy pierced the thick skin. A deluge of amniotic fluid, reeking of flesh and chemicals, splattered into the pools and around the Twi'lek. She held her arms open and smiled up into it.
The Sabel was waking.
Chapter 5 - The Sabel
The Mothership Sabel, Depths
"Your people almost fight like Mandalorians, Kaya!"
Kaya shouted over the firing line, "almost?!"
One of Kaya's shock troopers had engaged a Thadus in melee. Thadus got a good hit in on the brace of the leg, but the powersuit the trooper wore had a good grip around the giant cyborg's neck – one wrench upward and the neck vertebrae snapped like wet wood.
"A bit too savage," said the field commander, taking a few potshots, "your people fight without honor, but there is a kind of glory in that, too."
"The Riders survive," Kaya shouted over the melee, "RIDE OR DIE!"
"RIDE OR DIE!"
"Watch it!"
Kaya shoved the Mandalorian field commander aside, just in time to get him out of the way of a scythe-like cable that had whipped down from the nearby wall. She grabbed it at the base of the blade, but then it coiled around her arm and lunged for her eye. The Mando was ready with his Beskarr claws, grabbing and tearing the thing off of her with a few swipes.
"Eyes up, people!"
"With respect, glorious one, where exactly are we going?"
"I don't kriffing know, we're just killing our way forward!"
"HA! What a fine tomb this will be!"
The collected Mandalorians and troopers were still going strong, despite casualties. But their losses were steady all the same and about every five minutes someone was put out of commission, permanently or otherwise. Kaya considered retreat, but these damned Mandalorians were so committed to pressing forward it felt wrong to leave them to die. If she could just get a moment's peace from the living walls and clones and droid gunfire, she could maybe think and form a plan, but every time she tried to take a breather some fresh horror spawned at one end of the wide hallway or another.
And the ship seemed angrier. The benign cables on the walls had come alive with blades, not all at once, but now and then they struck someone from behind and ended them clean. They were forced to a crawling advance, on paranoid overwatch. The only way to survive was to shoot first and avoid ambush. Kaya knew from experience even the most seasoned soldiers lose their will to fight when pressed on all sides for too long, and having to look UP as well as all around was as taxing as it gets.
"We really need a plan, commander, we're low on ammo and morale–"
"I know, I know!"
Kaya bit the back of her bottom lip and pressed down on the rage building in her gut. There were two choices: full retreat and losing the support of the Mandalorians, or calling for reinforcements to bring more lives into this meat grinder. She took cover behind a corner and pulled out her military-grade transponder.
"Cover me, I'm calling for reinforcements."
"How will they even find us?!"
The Mandalorian commander shouted behind himself, "they can follow the bodies!"
Kaya punched in the code for broadest frequency and blasted it outward to anyone listening, "mayday mayday mayday, this is Rider One requesting immediate assistance! Reserves, come down the umbilical! Republic fleet, we SEE you out there, we need soldiers, we need fire support! Mayday mayday! Jedi! Anybody!"
The broadcast was sent. There was a chirp on the other end, coming in from her own command frequency back on the commandeered Nihil ship, "copy that Kaya, we can dispatch twelve fresh sets to your location, over."
"Send that Jedi back, we need a damned miracle!"
Static. Chirp: "that's a negative, Rider One, one is not in fighting shape, the other is keeping our POW secure."
Kaya clutched the comms receiver so hard parts of it creaked, "keep hailing that Republic fleet, they can't ignore us forever."
Static. Chirp: "from where we're standing, Rider One, not only are they ignoring us, they're moving into firing formation. Big energy sigs."
"WHAT?!"
Static. Chirp. Brunt's voice: "I have to be here to keep Ontoroch from escaping his bonds, Kayatonae. But I sense help is coming, though I don't know from whom. Hold fast… uh, over."
"This guy, just taking comms from my hands."
"Forgive me."
Chirp. Now it was Tzentchen: "Please be safe, please come back!"
"Break! I'm the comms officer, both of you, blast it, get off!"
Kaya heard the sound of lightsabers coming alive down the hall. The forward guard, a mix of powersuit Riders and Mandalorians with longrifles, shouted the alarm. Flashbangs went off and boots fell into a full retreat.
Kaya terminated the transponder. She wanted to tear her hair out. It wasn't fear or grief she felt, but fury at the Republic abandoning them, maybe even killing them to cover up this entire debacle.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but… I desperately need a damned Jedi in this squad."
A Mandalorian knelt down by Kaya and put a hand on her shoulder, "you have one. She just… can't be a Jedi right now."
"What the kriff are you smoking, Mando?"
"I'm a Jedi. I put on a disguise to, uh… secure these Mandalorian reinforcements."
A monkey lizard bristling with gear and guns crawled up over the Mandalorian's shoulder to stand triumphant, "Dimple here, too!"
"... where did you two come from?"
"We've been guarding the rear this whole time."
Dimple nodded, "you'd all be dead if not for us."
"... heard. Okay, 'Jedi', well I need you to do Jedi stuff."
"Not in front of the Mandalorians."
The Mandalorian field commander noticed Ren in her disguise, "Galanu! There you are, wermo! Thought you'd turned tail and ran back to the cantina! HA!"
The field commander threw a rifle to Ren. She caught it awkwardly and held it like someone who had never fired a gun before, because that's exactly what she was. Dimple made a seething sound as he saw her mishandling it in front of the Mandalorians.
"Cover me, Galanu, I'm reloading!"
Ren stood there, stuck. Then she sensed danger. Her Jedi reflexes took over and she slid in, her saber coming alive to deflect a blaster shot away from the field commander's head. He watched her, stunned, as she threw off her helmet to reveal a shock of red hair and black eyes. In stolen Beskarr armor, she leapt over the formation of soldiers and tried to fade into the shadows, only for the heavy armor to interfere.
"Ugh!"
Three corrupted padawans stood at the end of the hall. Ren braced herself as they dashed toward her. On full defense with her saberstaff she managed to keep them somewhat at bay, but there was no chance of a counterattack.
The Mandalorians all watched in a mix of awe and confusion.
Dimple laughed like he was having a nervous breakdown, "ha haha ha, wow! Mandalorians so multi-talented! Amazing!"
Ren shouted over deflecting strikes, "fine, we duped you! We needed help, we still need help! Please!"
The Mandalorian field commander pointed his rifle at Ren's back from across the barricaded formations. Where there was once a camaraderie, now the energy between the Riders and the Mandalorians was tense.
Kaya slid in next to the field commander, "I'm as surprised as you, but this isn't the time to air it out! We're in the thick of it now and if you want pay or blood price or whatever after we get out of this alive, FINE, you can take it from me, from the Jedi, from the Republic, sure – but if we break formation now, we're ALL dead."
The field commander took the shot. Kaya screamed in reflex.
The shot connected with a padawan, electrocuting them and taking some pressure off of Ren. Dimple flew in for fire support, boosting into the air until the fuel on his jetpack finally sputtered out. He had just enough to grab onto some ceiling cables. With his dextrous little feet, he hung upside down and took another shot, zapping the second padawan.
The field commander glanced sideways at Kaya, "Galanu was a coward, but she was still of the clan. Your people are brave. We will fight with you, but there will be a price – when we get out alive. Now where are we going?"
Kaya looked down and all around.
"I don't know," she said, "forward."
"Good enough. If we die, may we die as warriors."
Ren managed to wrangle the last padawan into a vulnerable position with Dimple's help. She put them all to sleep with a touch, then turned with everyone else when the group heard tromping boots coming up from the rear, far down the smoke and sparks of the hall.
They leveled their rifles toward the haze. Ren took point, ignoring a burning saber wound on her thigh she'd sustained in the fight.
"You're wounded," said the field commander to her as she stood between him and the others, "can you still fight, Jedi?"
"If it wasn't for this armor, I'd have lost my leg."
"Beskarr-a. Then it suits you."
Together, they all faced whatever fresh horror was charging toward them through the rear of the hallway. Through the smoke, they saw the silhouettes of many hulking, humanoid shapes. And as the smoke cleared, Kaya whooped at the sight of every single one of her lads in shock trooper powersuits deployed from the other ship. They were bristling with fresh grenades and ammo, a few even sported heavy gatling cannons.
"Get in formation, you scoundrels, we've got a ship to take!"
Ren watched as the heavies took up post throughout their host of soldiers and even she felt a little relief having such rough customers around to give and get. But then she frowned with a realization, "we still don't know where we're going in this labyrinth."
Dimple landed on her shoulder from the ceiling, "and you've got a limp."
"I'm fine."
As the last of the heavies hooked up with the squad, Ren looked down the hallway and saw three figures, slender and flowing, coming through the haze. Her senses tickled with a sense of familiarity, "is that…"
Dao, with her bristly short hair, scars and street tats, made the horned Rat Clan sign and stuck out her tongue between her teeth as she grinned at her old classmates, "Ren and Dimple! Hey, that's got a nice ring to it!"
Ren and Dimple rushed to throw a hug around her, "Dao!"
Walking just behind Dao was Master Fen, hands folded into her sleeves, and Vritali, similarly austere. Both bowed. Master Fen recognized Kayatonae, "Commander."
Kaya blanched at the sight of a grandmaster, a Council member, one she'd dealt with personally in the past. Part of her was happy for the help, another part… terrified.
"Hi," she said, as she lit a deathstick and gestured to the scorched, scarred, and bloody remnants of her mixed Mando-Rider squad, "welcome to the shitshow."
Master Fen glanced at Vritali. Vritali nodded in silence. Master Fen walked forward, upright and impeccable, "it will do. We are taking command."
Kaya exhaled smoke, "ma'am yes ma'am, you just tell me where to shoot."
Master Fen knelt over the incapacitated padawans. She noted the bionic eye implants, much like Sabel's, distinctly yellow and glossy. Fen placed her hand over one of their faces and reached into their dreams with the Force.
What she saw was a cavalcade of horrors, played over and over. They were not unlike the pains and trials endured by Sabel long ago. She also sensed threads of the Force binding these padawans together and to the ship. She stood up and looked around. The cables in the ceiling writhed, threatening with blades but not daring to slide down and attack her.
It seemed as if the ship had become tentative since Fen, Dao, and Vritali boarded. That was good. Fen turned and spoke back to the squad, "Sabel is watching us. I sense her all around. If we are to succeed in what I came here to do, we must move quickly and you must obey my every command without question. There is less than an hour afforded to us, to gather our padawans and what innocents we can, to save Sabel from this prison if possible, and bring them all to safety."
Kaya shouldered her rifle, "before the Republic lights us up with a line of ion cannons."
"Yes."
There was a moment of heavy silence that fell over the assembled.
Dao marched past Fen, "well?!" She said, turning with her arms outstretched in a half shrug as she walked backwards into the depths of the ship, "you all are kriffing blind, so let me show you the way! Just follow the energy fields in the walls!"
Ren rolled her eyes, "wow, Dao, SOOOO SIMPLE, why didn't I think of that?!"
"Because you're blind like everyone else!"
"Wow, if only I had the foresight to be born some Miralukan freak!"
"If only, loser!"
Dimple grinned from Ren's shoulder, "I like spicy Dao and armored Ren. Fun flavor."
Master Fen beckoned the squad along. Vritali walked beside her.
"I don't know what good I can do here," she said, "I'm no warrior or sorceress."
"You are decent enough, and a seeress. Most importantly, you are Sabel's mother. You and Dao have the best chance of speaking to her soul."
Vritali swallowed tears, "what remains of it, at least."
Master Fen placed a hand on her friend's shoulder as they walked, "what remains of it is still your child. Even to a Jedi, a mother's love can be a powerful healing force."
"Or suffocating. Or overbearing, or maddening…"
"... forget the past. We walk forward."
Every time their reinforced squad saw a Thadus, a beast droid, armed Nihil, yellow-eyed padawans, or anything else, it was always scurrying around a corner or out of sight. Dao led them deeper, down sloped halls filled with writhing cables, around forks and bends. It was uneventful, but the constant sensation of being watched, and of knowing that enemies were mustering on the fringes, filled everyone with dread.
Kaya muttered to herself, "they're getting smarter. Finally."
Ren had her saber lit as she took up the rear with Dimple, "yeah, what a relief."
Master Fen never broke her stride. She walked in the middle of the formation when hands in her sleeves, head not so much on swivel like a soldier, but glancing about now and then like a woman enjoying Sunday in an antique shop.
"They are afraid," she said simply.
One of the Riders elbowed a Mandalorian, "they better be!"
High fives were enjoyed by many. Master Fen smiled a secret smile, "indeed."
Dao stopped after a few more minutes of wandering. She recognized the bloodstains on the hallway's floor and walls. Her mind flashed back to a scarier time, when Sabel had guided her hand through their bond to decapitate a number of Nihil here.
They were close.
"Hurry up!" She shouted back to the others, as she broke into a light jog.
It wasn't far. They hustled a minute to catch up and everyone saw Dao staring up at a set of double blast doors pulsing with living cables. Everything glowed faintly, radioactive blue. Kaya and her demo team were on the job.
"Mandos, you all got any charges left?"
"Two!"
"We've got one, you think three will do it?"
"Only one way to find out."
As the demo team rolled up to the blast doors and primed their cutters and charges, Kaya waved everyone away from the site, "alright people, this is a breach zone, engineering is gonna set up some light cover out of the blast zone–"
"No, Commander," said Master Fen, walking past Kaya, "remember what I said?"
"... ma'am, yes ma'am."
"You are very used to being obeyed, aren't you, Commander?"
"Ma'am."
Kaya stood down and fell in with the ranks, "orders?"
"Set up your entrenchment. This is a natural choke point, yes? A long hallway behind us, a heavy door ahead. Make sure nothing comes up behind us as we proceed forward."
"Due respect, ma'am, that door looks big and heavy enough to survive a capital ship's main gun, how are you gonna open it?"
"How were you going to open it, if force is futile?"
"... ma'am."
"Don't worry," said Dimple, hopping down from Ren to balance on a light barricade next to Kaya, "Dimple is still at the bottom of the hierarchy. You somewhere in middle!"
"Great," said Kaya, as she turned to her men, "alright, you heard her! Dig in and get those big guns primed, I want so many bodies on the other end of that hall they've got to climb to get to us!"
Vritali came up behind Dao and took her hand. Dao glanced back at her when she noticed her mother's hand was shaking, "it's okay, Seeker. She'll let us in."
"I can hear her agony in the walls… I've seen and smelled more death in the past days than ever in my lifetime. I don't know how you all are standing, Dao."
"Papa is with the Force, now, you know that better than any of us. If we're good, we can get Sabel out of this and get her some help."
"Yes… if."
Dao gripped Vritali's hand. She nodded to Fen as the Jedi Master came up beside her before the door. They all gazed upward at it, and winding cables slithered down with glowing lenses at their tips like droid's eyes.
"Come in," spoke The Sabel, her voice purring through the hallway. The great blast doors clanked and screeched open. As they did, a wash of humid, hot, vaguely medicine-smelling air blasted them all in the face. The doors opened just enough for slender figures to squeeze through.
Dao slipped through first, pulling Vritali reluctantly behind.
Master Fen turned to address the squad as they set about entrenchment measures. She called out to Kaya, "as soon as I pass through that doorway, I will no longer be protecting you."
"You didn't do much while you were here, so, I think we're good!"
"They will come all at once, Kaya. Be ready within moments. Take command."
"Uh huh, thank you, Master Jedi, thanks."
Master Fen passed through the blast doors. They slid shut behind her. The moment she did, Kaya heard the shuddering steps of beast droids far down the hall.
Ren took point, rifles leveled around her. Heavies spun up their plasma cannons and engineers loaded the grenade launchers of the demo teams. Their last living sharpshooter did last-minute priming on his mini ion-rifle at the back. The Mandalorians bore Beskarr claws and heavy blasters, insisting on forming the hard front line with Ren and the heavies.
Kaya sucked in the last of her deathstick and dropped it. She smashed the butt under her armored boot and shouted with smoke trailing from her lips, "RIDE OR DIE!"
"RIDE OR DIE!"
Even through the heavy blast doors, the trio within The Sabel's chamber could hear the muffled symphony of gunfire and explosions. But there was nothing they could do for them now.
The only way to walk was forward.
The Pod Chamber was like walking on the inside of a radioactive reactor. The walls were sheer and slick, rising to heights as tall as small apartment buildings. At the center of the chamber, a great black pillar pulsed with blue lights that seems more organic than digital. At the base of this pillar was a pool similarly colored that ghostly teal, in which a young Twi'lek woman knelt, her back to the three who had entered.
Above her, the flimsy remains of the split pod hung from cables on the ceiling, like a deflated hot air balloon fashioned from some giant mammal's placenta.
Immediately, the sterility of the place struck them in their guts. There was a sense of wrongness about it all, like the way one feels when they walk into an immaculate hospital and smell that clean chemical smell, but know this is a place of death and suffering.
Or at least, Fen assumed that was how they all felt.
Dao walked forward with her arms outstretched, yelling in that tone people yell in when they're screaming at their tenement neighbors to shut off the music at two o'clock in the morning, "HEY, SABEL! SABEL! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
Vritali hurried after Dao, "please, don't antagonize her!"
"I sense she is hiding," said Master Fen, gazing upwards into the darkness of the high ceiling, where anything could be concealed, "to plan her attack or because she is afraid, that I cannot tell. Her mind is… alien to me, now."
Dao hustled up to the Twi'lek. "Hey!"
Dao put a hand on her shoulder, "hey, you awake? Where's Sabel–"
The Twi'lek turned to look over her shoulder, those yellow eyes bright and wide open.
"The child… the child has returned to us. She'll be so happy!"
"I'm not a kriffing child anymore."
The Twi'lek fell to her hands and knees, begging at Dao's feet, "oh please, Holy Child, speak to your Mother Goddess, please, you can rouse her from her sadness, she has been so upset since you were taken from us! Please rejoin her, please!"
Dao tried to take steps back, but the Twi'lek girl was hugging her legs and weeping.
"Okay, okay! Just tell me where she is!"
The Twi'lek girl pointed straight up, into the darkness of the high ceiling. Master Fen approached and placed a hand on the girl's brow, "be at peace," she said, and the Twi'lek slipped into a deep sleep.
Dao stepped out of those arms and back against Vritali, who gripped Dao's shoulders to half-comfort her and half-hide-behind her; Dao could feel Vritali's trembling. She reached up to hold her mother's hand. Together, all three gazed into the black pit of the ceiling.
Two yellow eyes opened and gazed back.
Master Fen's voice was not loud, and yet it cut through the room like a knife, "we don't have long, Sabel. Come down and face us.
The Sabel's voice spoke from all around them, vibrating through the smooth walls, the central pillar, rippling the pools – it even tugged at the Force itself:
"The Maiden, The Mother, The Crone. All here, to share their wisdom. But will you listen to my wisdom, first? Humor me. Humor me in my realm."
Three cables, each as big around as an earthworm, slid down from the ceiling. At the end of each was a glowing blue lens, projecting a quiet song. They knew what Sabel wanted but none of them complied.
"Please," she whispered, "put me in your ear."
Master Fen slipped her hands from her sleeves. She grasped the cable, "very well, Sabel. But know this: within the hour, this ship will be annihilated and there is nothing I can do to stop it. Whatever you intend to do now should persuade us to extract you from the prison of the Ghost Engine, not further entangle us into this mess."
"I am aware of the heat of their ion cannons and the smell of their primitive hyperdrives. I only wish to share the burden of knowledge with you all."
Seeker Vritali held the cold cable in her hand. As if it were a living thing, it nuzzled her palm and thumb, and she could not help but stroke it like a wounded little animal, "is this… is this all that remains of the girl I gave birth to, thirty years ago?"
"Mother. I wish it were all. But there is much more, too much more. I have tailored a vision for each of you. There are truths that are best unknown."
Dao held the cable in her hand. Then she gripped it like it owed her money, "kriff that, Sabel! I want an explanation and I want it NOW!"
Dao rammed the cable into her ear.
T̸͙̟̠̈́̐̈́H̵̡̢̺́̔͑E̴͎͇͆̀͜͝ M̴̞͋͌͜͜͝A̴͓͉̿͒͊͜I̵͔͚͔̾͆͋D̴͔͉͉̾͐̿E̵̙̘͍͋̿N̸͓̟͓̈́̓͊
Dao woke up in her Mek Sha safehouse. The rainbow neon of the city filtered through the slats of her bunk shutters. She stood up and opened up the shutters and there it was, the sleepless city in the asteroid, spread out beneath her just as she remembered it.
"Okay, Sabel, make your point and make it fast."
"My point is," said Sabel, materializing from nothingness next to Dao, "that we had some pretty good times, didn't we?"
"No, we didn't. You were a mess and you were obsessed with murder."
"Right, but I was still a decent Jedi, wasn't I?"
"No? You were a terrible Jedi and the only reason I was stuck with you was because the Council determined we had to be stuck together with that Force Bond. The whole point of being a Master, SABEL, is to learn from their padawan and they hoped you'd learn from me. But you haven't learned a blasted thing in all the time I've known you, you're still just as self-involved, toxic, and vicious as Ontoroch – oh you two were perfect for each other, by the way, really deserved one another, I super loved how you would leave me on lookout duty for days on end while you went off and did whatever with him only for him to come back more pissed off than before and he'd look at me and say 'you were supposed to be better than this' like that even means anything, like, hey Onto, I'm just what I am, sorry I don't fit the grandmaster sage superpower self you envisioned for me when I grew up, creep, but kids become what they become, not what you want them to become – so you know what? Kriff you and cut you, Sabel, I hope you choose to rot in this nasty black hole forever so you're sitting still when this whole fleet disintegrates you and sends you back to the sanctity of the Force. Akama is dead because she was a stupid ghost and wasn't expecting to run into one of the few people in the galaxy, my mom – oh, I don't see you as my mom Sabel, by the way, I know the whole sordid story now – you're more like my deadbeat big sister. Uh, where was I?"
"You were telling me what happened to Akama."
"Right, right, well mom banished her to oblivion with the help of ancestor spirits because I guess Akama forgot she was dead and couldn't handle realizing it."
"Are you finished?"
"No, one last thing: I truly, sincerely hope you die, Sabel."
Sabel gradually dissolved, "me too. I can imagine so many fates worse than sweet death."
As she evaporated into mist, Sabel drifted out over the city's artificial dawnlight, to become lost among the neon and steam.
T̸̺̺͉͒̐͑H̸̞̙͔̐͘Ë̸̠̙̫́͊͠ M̸̞̺̟͋̔͘O̵͔̘͉̒̓͝T̸̼͉̠̾͌̚H̵̘͚̙̾̕͝E̴͖̺̓͐͆R̵̢͖͉̾̾̚
Seeker Vritali groped around in darkness. She could not see her hands, she could not see anything. But she felt she was waist deep in a pool of warm water, and her palms found the smooth, flesh-like walls of her prison – she was in a pocket not much bigger than a closet. Everything was wet and trickling and she did not need to breathe.
"Is this it," she whispered to the darkness, "is this the hall of mirrors my child is lost in?"
"Yes."
"And what is this horrible vision supposed to represent? I pray to all our ancestors and the goodness in the Force that you are not planning to keep me here forever. I know too well the terrors of the mind, how it can trap itself in dark places and stretch time endlessly – an hour waiting for this prison of yours to be destroyed could become a thousand years."
"Yes, mother."
"You hate me."
"Yes."
"Because I gave you to the Jedi."
"Yes."
"Because the Jedi sent you to this evil place without knowing… what it was."
"Yes."
"I gave you to the Jedi so you could become more than a troubled child, another troubled Jinsu witch girl making problems for Alpheridies."
"So your reason for giving your daughter over to the Jedi was that I was Force-sensitive and might have been a handful."
"You would have been imprisoned or worse had you remained, Sabel…"
"What is worse than imprisonment?"
"Execution."
"Mother, how is it that between the three who have come to visit me, you are the least wise? Is maternity and sentiment so blinding that it makes even heroes stupid?"
Seeker Vritali felt the warm water rising to her breasts. Soon she would need to tread water. Tears spilled down her cheeks, "Sabel, this isn't you…"
"How would you know? We haven't spoken in decades."
"Please, no…"
The water rose to her neck and beyond. Vritali was forced to tread water.
"What is worse, mother. Imprisonment, or death."
Vritali's face pressed against the smooth, wet ceiling of that chamber as the water rose so high there was only space for her to keep her head above water.
"Imprisonment…"
"Yes."
"Eternal, conscious imprisonment…"
"Yes."
"There is no death, there is only the Force, the Jedi say."
"If death is the Force, then life is the prison we all seek to escape. Life is the true hell, mother, and the Ghost Engine takes life and stretches it into infinities of suffering. Imagine what your consciousness will become after a thousand years of drowning and containment."
"Please, Sabel, I'm sorry, I'm sorry –"
She gagged as the water filled her mouth. There was no room left to breathe.
She would drown, over and over and over and over and over and over a̴̻͓̪̽̈́͆n̸͓̠͕̿̿̕d̸͕̻͙͊̔̒ o̴̙̪͚̾̔v̵͚͉͎̈́͐͘e̵̦̟̞͋́͌r̴̡͔̔̾ a̵̙͖̞͐̓͝n̵̡̝̝͋͒͘d̴͖͕̾͌̚͜ o̵̢͉̞͊́͑v̵̙̝͐̽͘͜é̴͖͉͕̓͘r̴̞͚̪͐͆͆ a̸͓̙̘͑̀̾ń̸̡̦͇̒͝d̴̠͕̙̓͌͘ o̸̙̞̓͠v̸̢̘̟͋̓͝e̴̻͕͌́͝r̴͚͕̻͐̾̚-̸̺͔͕̒̀́-̸͍͖͎̿͛͘ . . .
T̸̺̟̘́͛̀Ḧ̴̡̺̦́̽́E̴̡͓̝͑͛͝ C̴̼̠̠͛̔̈́R̴̘͉̽̽͑O̸̠̘̠͊̓͐N̸̢͕̦̾̒E̵͖̺͖͋̒͠
"No."
Master Fen was the master of this domain. She stood atop the mountain peak her father had hiked her to, when she was two years old. He had fed her wild fruit from the cloudspring tree that clung to old rocks and drank thin air. The next day he had given her to the Jedi.
"Show me what you have become, Sabel."
A long, winding shape undulated through distant clouds. It was a flying serpent like those Fen's culture spoke of in myth in old faerie tales. The great, black dragon had many yellow eyes and whiskers that glowed blue. It unfurled before Fen on her mountaintop, and its coils blotted out the dawning sun.
"Is this true?"
"It is your interpretation of the truth."
"As true as true can be, then. Sabel, we must discuss terms."
"Before business, may I show you the mysteries?"
"By all means, but be quick."
The black dragon dissolved into a window. The window gazed into space itself, void dark and studded with stars. Or Fen thought they were stars, until she realized they were galaxies. Fen also realized that when she looked at a galaxy, it would expand and reveal its truths to her.
Some galaxies were empty, devoid of life, merely harmonious cosmic spirals that executed natural processes without the presence of sapient life.
Some galaxies were harmonious beings unto themselves, either having become a thinking entity by way of those natural processes, or the unification and evolution of lifeforms within it to become a psychic unity within the Force.
And some galaxies were eternal hells. Their lifeforms had taken turns toward sadism and materialism in the utmost and suffering had become not the means to an end but the end itself. Perverse cruelty and totalitarianism, deceptions for deception's sake…
Master Fen waved it all away, "enough. This is nothing I could not imagine on my own, given all the lore I've read, and the scientists I've enjoyed conventions with."
"What will our galaxy become, Master Fen?"
"I wish I could tell you. As a Jedi, I can tell you that even galaxies do not scratch the surface of the scope of the Force. I am more interested in the black canvas behind these theaters of heaven and hell, rather than the shows themselves. Is this all of your imagination, or has the Ghost Engine revealed something to you?"
"Akama was obsessed with unity, to the point that she would do anything to enforce it on her own terms – the terms of mutalism and cooperation, but mandated by the compulsions one feels in connection to another through psychic empathy. Is that true unity?"
"To her, it was true. The Rakata were by and large a race polluted by megalomania and hate, but it seems we have discovered the works of one who was at least concerned with soft over hard power. It is difficult to argue with the evil that is patient, pervasive, and seductive."
"And yet by virtue of patience, does that force remain 'evil'?"
"It depends on who you ask."
"I am asking you, Grandmaster Sage."
Master Fen plucked a cloudspring fruit from the nearby tree and tasted it. It was as she remembered, sweet and floral, and therefore it was likely wrong. She knew that in eighty-five years, memory could mutate into anything.
But she still enjoyed it, of course.
"Well," she took another bite and wiped her lips with her sleeve, "I suppose that I can see the appeal of what Akama attempted to do – she wished for our galaxy to become one of those rare, harmonious heavens in which there is no suffering. And yet I can tell you from experience that suffering is the bitter antidote to evil."
"... in what sense, Crone."
"Look at Ontoroch. He suffered not a day in his life. His father was Knight Commander and he was told from the day he was born that he would be a hero. He was afforded every advantage and every luxury, even as a Jedi. Yet he became malignant. It is in complacency and delusion, our fantasies about what things should be, that we lose sight of what they are. Ontoroch was forever tormented by visions and expectations of what he and others should be. I encourage you not to fall into the same trap when you feel the new power you have been given by this Ghost Engine, and look upon our seemingly imperfect galaxy with contempt."
"If I desired, I could fight back against this fleet. I could bring the galaxy, even the Nihil, to heel, and reform every sadist, every rapist, every cowardly predator…"
"I am sure you could. And yet you would find that in your ardor," Master Fen finished her cloundspring fruit, down to the jagged pit, "you have neglected the root of your own motivations – the drive you have to 'correct' something is the engine of your suffering. That drive will only create more of what you seek to eliminate. It may mutate into forms you could not even imagine, just as the ennui of our Republic as it grows higher and brighter, will lead to complacency, boredom, entitlement, and inevitable downfall."
"... what is the point of anything, Crone, if we are all slaves to this endless cycle of suffering and rebirth."
"There never was a point or a purpose," Master Fen tossed the pit from the cliff's edge and enjoyed watching it plummet, "other than to seek balance within oneself."
"I don't know what that means for what I have become."
"It means that sometimes, Sabel, the best thing to do is to do nothing. When we sense great power to affect others within ourselves, perhaps very often the correct action is inaction. You have become grafted to a powerful machine. Do not try to act in haste. Slumber."
"Slumber?"
Master Fen pointed through the void window, to their own galaxy, to the core of their own galaxy, to the system of Alpheridies, to Alpheridies itself, and then to the vast, dark side of that tidally-locked world.
"Go home and sleep, Sabel. Rise again when something truly awful threatens to tip the balance of the galaxy toward an evil end. You will know it when you sense it. How does that sound?"
"... it sounds… peaceful. Noble."
"Forgive us all our imperfections, Sabel. And forgive yourself for needing a friend to help you find the way."
The ground shook. Sabel and Master Fen looked at one another, and knew that neither of them had willed it. The vision tore away.
The ship was under fire. Its shields were powerful, but could not last long.
Master Fen awoke standing. The cable slipped from her ear and she looked up to Sabel hiding in the ceiling. "Make your choice, Sabel."
"I already have. Run. I will hold them back as long as I can."
Dao slipped free next.
"I said what I had to say – are we out?!"
"Can you carry the girl?"
Dao scooped up the Twi'lek girl, "she's smaller than me, even, I've got her!"
Master Fen knelt down beside Seeker Vritali. Vritali shuddered and convulsed, gasped in air and clutched at Fen's robes. When she saw Fen, she sobbed and clung to robes as if she were drowning, "I knew this day would come, I knew it, I knew… I knew, I knew."
Master Fen sensed only a hint of the horror Sabel had inflicted upon her own mother and in that moment, briefly questioned her own leniency. But what else could she do? Sabel had them all in her clutches. All they could do was run.
The blast doors opened. The Riders, the Mandalorians, and the rest had held. A mountain of bloodied clones and scorched bodies, Thadus upon Thadus, droids upon droids, were blocking the end of the hallway, forming a wall that protected their barricades.
Kaya ran to the three as they emerged, "finally! Cutting it down to the wire – look, we need a way out, we kind of killed our way into a corner, here!"
Master Fen gave clear orders: "Dao, give the girl to one of the soldiers. Vritali, let them tend to you. Dao, Ren, aid me in clearing a path. Focus as I do, padawans."
Master Fen, with Dao and Ren at her side, stood before the mountain of bodies and channeled their will outward. The mountain parted, sliding on blood and ash, with a few tumbling down in pieces that they would have to step over. The hallway opened up before them.
"Come! As fast as you can! Any padawans you managed to capture, please, carry them!"
Of the twenty padawans taken by Sabel, perhaps five were recovered, heaved onto the shoulders of heavy troopers and carried out in a sprint. The rest were missing or lost to the chaos of lethal combat. Dao took point, following the energy signatures she'd used to get there.
Sabel's voice hummed through the walls: "my shields have broken. Goodbye. Thank you, friends, for trying to help me."
Dao sprinted ahead, "no no NO NO NO! SABEL! SHORTCUT, MAYBE?!"
"... this way. It will be tight."
The first ion cannon shot hit the armor of the mothership and caused it to rock to the side. Everyone stumbled on their feet in the hallway. But new energy signatures lit up in the wiring behind the walls, pulsing to point Dao in a new direction.
"This way!"
"Follow Dao, let's go people, go go go!"
Sabel led them through a damaged portion of the ship, sparking with wounded cables. They had to crawl, squeeze, and crouch under and around debris, to take a shortcut to the hangar. Once in the vast hangar, they saw through the landing fields the Republic fleet in the distance, hammering their ship with volleys.
Dao got to the breached doors of the umbilical, "get in, get in!"
The frontrunners dove in first. Kaya ushered survivors through the blown-apart blast doors, "Dao, if this ship goes down, we'll be sucked through this thing like a hose into space!"
"Don't kriffing tell me that, just get in! Sabel! SABEL, DO SOMETHING!"
The Mothership lurched around. One ion shot lanced through the hangar itself. The air rushed around everyone toward the breach, which was big enough for a fighter to fly through. Dao saw as the Republic fleet shifted through the hangar windows, as the mothership repositioned to place her prow at the brunt of the attacks.
"Sealing it shut. Get through. Goodbye."
The vacuum of the ion breach sent a few soldiers tumbling over themselves, but it sealed itself just in time for them to scrabble to their feet and leap into the umbilical. They had, against all odds, managed to get through. Kaya yelped with misty-eyed shock when they ran over Chok and Tok's bodies, placed so thoughtfully against the wall. She ordered her men to carry them out despite the rush.
As they all poured into the functioning blast doors of the Nihil ship, they heard the howl of depressurization. With a hiss, the blast doors sealed shut as the last survivor fell aboard. They could only watch through the window as the mothership Sabel broke apart into flaming chunks, and those chunks were shot as well, and then shot again, and again, and again, as the Republic fleet sterilized the remains with extreme prejudice.
When the Republic came to their rescue at last, they poured aboard that commandeered, limping Nihil ship with rifles and hazmat gear. Jedi Knights in rebreathers and sealed armor took no chances either. Every Rider, every Mandalorian, every padawan, every wayward Jedi Master, every liberated slave, every modified Twi'lek – all surrendered peacefully.
And all were taken out of that ship in unregistered shuttles, to unknown places, for unknown ends, for unspecified periods of time. There were no negotiations, no welcomes, and no questions answered. Each actor in this catastrophe was to answer for their part in it.
Despite that, there was a collective relief among all of them.
At least it was over. At least now all they would have is a lifetime of nightmares.
Chapter 6
Arkanian Blacksite, Arkania
Two Weeks Later
Arkania.
It lay deep within the Republic's fold, a vault of diamonds and genius, and yet, a planet of absolute cold – anyone stepping foot outside of the reinforced city domes or underground warrens would be shattered by temperatures that rivaled the dark side of most moons.
This was to say nothing of the wind chill.
Inside her cell, Dao watched the news on holo. It was her lifeline. It was her only insight into what was going on in the world outside of her little bubble:
"Republic trade is finally kicking back into high gear after the disruption of the Alpheridies' quarantine. The RID spokesman for the Republic Institute for Diseases assures the core worlds that the troubling outbreak of chumchag fever in the spaceport and fleet was due to exposure to contaminated contraband brought in by the now-devastated pirate fleet. Miraluka High-Orbit Patrol warns that flight advisories are still in effect for tourists and private freighters – if you're planning a sightseeing tour of the Nihil wreckage, call it off. The debris fields are orbiting at high velocity and are considered still volatile. Unexploded ordinance and batteries…"
No mention of alien ships. Maybe for the best.
Dao always knew when The Doctor was coming - she could sense her through the walls, sense and see her blinding, bleach-white aura, smell her synthetic perfume, and hear the click of her high heels. She didn't know the woman's name. She only knew she was seven feet tall, had white eyes and hair, golden skin, wore a glossy medical bodysuit and a strange visor that seemed to fasten itself to her temples directly, and always had puzzles with her.
Dao hated those puzzles.
This time, Dao sat on the edge of the bed, patient, and determined to give this woman whatever she needed, whatever esoteric 'data' was required so that Dao could finally escape this awful place. The medical smell reminded her of too-recent trauma. The glossy white walls were worse than blackness somehow, it was like being trapped in a spotlight, it refracted auras and energies in the electronics and made her head cavity itch in a place she couldn't scratch.
The doors slid open. There was The Doctor, data tablet and stack of puzzles in hand, click-clacking on her heels to go sit down at the terminal near Dao's bed.
Dao tried a greeting.
"Hi."
The Doctor said nothing. She placed her tablet down just-so, her puzzles on the end of the bed (just-so), and connected her data to the terminal. She typed in silence.
"Are you gonna tell me–"
"Please prepare for the test."
"What is the test for?!"
"Please answer the questions without hesitating. If you hesitate, we start over."
"... fine. But can you please, please tell me what this is for?"
The Doctor ignored her, moving straight into the thirteenth consecutive day of questions and testing: "you are caring for your mother, who has a seasonal illness. While boiling a poultice for her on the stove, you notice out of the corner of your eye a black snake slithering up under the blankets of her bedding."
"I really hate this one."
"Starting over. You are caring for your mother, who has a seasonal illness. While boiling a poultice for her on the stove, you notice out of the corner of your eye a black snake slithering up under the blankets of her bedding–"
"I grab the kriffing thing by its tail and whip it against the wall until it splatters and stops moving, same as yesterday, what else?!"
"You are foraging in a field with your best friend. He has a deadly allergy to stingsects. You thought the field was safe, but now you feel the vibrations of a stingsect hive underneath your feet–"
"Just shut up and give me the puzzle."
The Doctor looked at Dao. Her face was sterilized clean of emotion. The Doctor picked up a data tablet and slapped it onto Dao's lap just hard enough to sting and convey contempt.
"Solve the puzzle."
Dao did not solve the puzzle. She picked up the data tablet, wrapped it in a bubble of sheer will, and whipped it by the Force across the room so hard it shattered against the wall. The Doctor gathered her things, got up, and clicked out of the room.
Dao screamed after her, "you can't KEEP ME HERE! Let me talk to someone! Master Fen! Brunt! Master Z, Master Yoda! Anyone! If they find out you took me here, you're in trouble, this is evil! This is inhumane!"
The doors slid shut, leaving Dao in silence.
In that silence, Dao felt fury building up from the pit of her gut, winding around the length of her spine, tingling through her fingertips like lightning. When a tiny arc of electricity zapped between her fingers, she felt startled. She felt afraid.
Dao wanted to rip those doors open and rampage down the hall. Who would stop her? She was a Jedi. She was a Jinsu. She was Sabel's child and just as strong.
No no no no, we don't like those thoughts, we don't like those ones…
She clenched and unclenched her fists, then sat up on her bed and crossed her legs. Her palms rested upwards and gently open upon her knees, as if accepting rain. She did her best to tune out the distressing electromagnetism of the place and its high-powered equipment, its non-aligned, fluorescently neutral doctors and scientists walking down the walls speaking too loudly into their recording devices about things she had no concept of: quarks, quasitrons, relics, coefficients, patient number blah blah-dash-one-four-blah-blah, phenols and tritiums, blah blah blah blah blah blah.
None of that mattered. She was one with the Force. Her meditations would continue indefinitely until answers were given.
The next day, she heard the click-clack of heels. The doors opened. The pleasantries were avoided. The Doctor asked questions and presented puzzles. Dao said and did nothing but be one with the Force. The Doctor would lose patience, gather her things, and leave. The day after that, it was the same. The day after that, the same. Dao was no longer eating. Dao was no longer drinking water. The Force was her food. The Force would sustain her.
She heard it eventually. It was on the sixth or seventh day, maybe the tenth, maybe the thirtieth, she did not know or care. She did not exist. There was only the Force. No raging beast within a cage, no animal prisoner, no desire, nothing.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
She heard it and thought it was The Doctor. But it was as if The Doctor had lost one leg and was hopping along.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Dao gazed through the walls and saw an aura, warm and blazing gold, with rings of living green and flares of gentle blue. It was familiar, but it had been a long time.
Clack Clack.
The doors slid open and there was Master Yoda, walking along with his cane. He stopped in the doorway, his big ears turning like radar dishes as he took in the tiny, featureless cell they had been keeping her in.
"Inhumane," he said, as he walked in to stand before her bed.
She said nothing. She trusted nothing. She knew what she sensed through the Force, but after Sabel, the ship… she also knew the Force could be twisted like anything else. What was there to trust, if one cannot trust the Force?
Master Yoda hopped up onto the bed in front of Dao. He crossed his legs and sighed, laying his cane across his knees and joining Dao in meditation. He said nothing.
Dao wouldn't budge. No longer would she grasp at hope or despair. It was up to the world to show her its intentions. Master Yoda sensed this and smiled.
"Still a Jedi, you are."
Hearing those words from him, specifically, was a small relief.
"Am I in trouble, Master Yoda?"
"Unclear, young one."
"Why am I here?"
Master Yoda stroked at his chin, "a scientist, I am not, hm. Concerned, they are."
"About what?"
Master Yoda pointed to Dao's right arm. Dao lifted her arm and examined it, not understanding. She looked at Master Yoda and didn't want to remember.
"What," she whispered, as she gulped tears.
Master Yoda looked away. His feet hung over the edge of the bed and he rested his palms over his cane head and his chin on his palms. He was deep in thought.
"What, Master Yoda."
"Remove it, they could not."
"Remove what?"
Dao looked down into her right palm. Something in her bones ached. The flat surface of her palm stretched upward gently, like some serpent inside was moving.
Dao's screams echoed through the halls of the facility. It was most disruptive.
Master Yoda held her as she cried, just like he had many years before. Just like he had for so many younglings who were frightened or confused. Dao knew he would not abandon her to this horrible place, and she was right. Then and there, he took her by the hand – by her cursed right hand, even – and led her out the doors of the cell.
They passed down the hallway. Armed guards with hospital smocks over their armor stood at every intersection. Eventually, they ended up in The Doctor's office. Dao could hear her speaking to her dictator droid through the doors:
"Patient seven, 'Dao', was partially separated from the device. Samples taken rival Gree levels of complexity, with the presence of nanomachines obvious. The foreign object resembles a living cable and has grafted itself to the nerves and marrow of her right arm. All scans indicate it is severed entirely from the host system that birthed it, rendering it now a symbiote at best, or a benign growth, at worst. Let it be known: even ancient Rakatan tech bends to Arkanian genius. However… clinical psych trials with the patient indicate heightened levels of hormones and agitation. Suggesting continued observation…"
The doors slid open. The Doctor, seeing Master Yoda, stood up from her desk.
"Master Jedi," she said, back upright and eyes downcast, "why have you removed the patient from its room?"
"Reached the limits of scientific understanding, you have. Exemplary work. Feel bad, you should not. Release other padawans, you must."
The Doctor openly scoffed. She took off her visor, clicking it gently into a charging station on her desk, "with respect, Jedi, there is a level of elegance to the technology embedded in these padawans that equals, perhaps even surpasses, anything we've ever seen in our recorded history. And we have been recording since the days we were a part of the Old Sith Empire."
Dao gripped Master Yoda's hand and felt four years old again.
Master Yoda clicked his teeth, "ohhh. Then, sad for you, this must be. My condolences, you have. Happy to buy your diamonds and your science, the Republic is. But, our Padawans, these are. Test lizards, they are not. Weeks you have had, to gather data, to poke and prod, hm? A gift given freely, it was, in exchange for answers, it was."
The Doctor listened with the thin, patient smile of an aristocrat hearing the plea-routine of a beggar on the street. She stuck a data chit into her terminal, "I take your point. A moment while I upload our declassified findings – but an aside, if I may?"
Master Yoda grinned, sharp teeth and warm eyes, "oh, you may, you may."
"The girl is highly unstable. Fits of agitation and fury, cooperative one day, uncooperative the next… and then shutting down for a full week before your arrival. If for no other reason, she should be kept under observation until she is stable."
Dao let go of Master Yoda's hand and stepped halfway to The Doctor, "cut you, you nasty statue, you can't keep me here! You can't keep the others here, are you kriffing deaf or stupid, which one is it?!"
The Doctor, despite being a full head taller than Dao, leaned back and broke her face into a grimace, "please get her away from me – you see what I mean, Master Jedi?!"
Master Yoda laughed. He laughed and laughed, even slapping his knee, "tell me, great and wise Arkanian, how old is 'patient seven'?"
Dao did not back down. There was an arm's length between them and soon to be less if things didn't go her way. The Doctor fussed over her notations, "fifteen, just last week. Ah–"
Dao leaned in, her nonexistent eyes glaring into The Doctor's bleached-white soul.
"Happy, ah," the Doctor stammered, "belated birthday. We should have gotten you cake."
Yoda rapped his cane on the ground, "fifteen! Children, have you?"
"No, Master Jedi."
"Mmm. Hormones, agitation… normal, this seems, for fifteen. Into her own, Dao is coming. Out of her way, you should get."
The data chit dinged as it finished downloading. Dao ripped it from the terminal and tossed it back to Master Yoda, who caught it while breaking into a nice amble toward the shuttle exit. After a few more good, long seconds of wishing-a-doctor-would, Dao finally turned to join him, giving the whole blasted facility the 'Mek-Sha finger' on the way out.
Dao flopped down onto the seat of the shuttle opposite Master Yoda.
"So," she said, her ankle crossing over her knee and arms stretching out onto the back of the seat, "where to? Coruscant?"
Master Yoda settled in. The shuttle prepped and lifted off. He gazed out the window at the whiteout blizzard of Arkania's surface atmosphere, "no. Not Coruscant. Never Coruscant."
"... never Coruscant?"
"Go back, you cannot, Dao. In little time, too much has happened. Vacancies filled on the Council. In-the-know, most are not. Frightened, those who are. Never revealed, the truth can be."
Dao wasn't surprised. A short lifetime ghosting Sabel and the Shadows taught her to be comfortable with deception, "I get it. So, what?"
"So, what," Master Yoda watched as the planet fell below them and the black-and-stars took over the window view. He looked back to Dao, repeating, "so, what."
Dao tilted her head, then shifted her posture and laced her fingers together, leaning in, "Master Yoda, are you having a stroke?"
"So, what. Dao."
She thumbed at her lip and glanced around. The shuttle was sparse and her tongue was dry, "are you asking me what I want?"
Master Yoda nodded.
"An energy drink would be nice. Original flavor, none of that gubnut trash."
Master Yoda laughed gently, "when we arrive, have it, you shall. So. What?"
"... what happened to everyone, Master Yoda."
"Mm. You can guess."
"You can't talk about it."
"Mmmmm. You can guess."
"... Ontoroch is in Lola Sayu."
Master Yoda's ears lifted, "know of that secret place, do you? Mmm. Surprised, I am not, once-student of Master Sabel the Scarred."
"Ren, Dimple, Brunt… they did a lot of good. And they were never touched by that Ghost Engine, as far as I know. They're probably off doing more important, heroic stuff already."
"Mmm."
"Master Fen… I don't know. But I'm glad she was there with us."
"Glad also, for that, I am."
"Master Z is still teaching Rat Clan kids, as soon as he gets a new batch."
"Mm."
"Kayatonae is… I hope she's not in trouble."
"Mmm. Maybe."
"She and her people are amazing, Master Yoda. I didn't know normal men and women could be that brave or strong."
"Normal, you say? Not Force-sensitive, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"Mm. Stronger than us, perhaps. Aware of their weakness, they are. But afraid of death, sometimes, they are not. There is no death, there is only the Force, yes? When 'normal' people know this, Jedi in spirit, they are. Brave, they must be."
Dao nodded along, soaking it in. "I agree."
"Oh, good. Padawan-approved, my wisdom is. Loves to hear it, a master does."
Dao leaned back and grinned at him, the tip of her tongue between her teeth, and her tattooed arm throwing up the Rat Clan horns. "We there yet?"
"Soon."
Yoda settled into himself and closed his eyes. Dao did the same (aside from the eyes closing), tipping her head back and finding her center to pass the time.
Dao startled awake from turbulence. The fasten seatbelt sign came on and the sheer violence of the shuttle's rattling sent her groping for security. Buckled in, she looked across the cabin at Yoda, who whose similarly strapped-in, and smiling about it all.
"Bumpy ride, this will be."
The clouds causing the turbulence looked less like clouds and more like smog with lightning. It was a sickly-orange color and Dao was sure she could see the enamel on the outside of the ship's wing flaking off from contact. Finally, they breached the smog line and descended down into what looked like an endless landscape of belching smokestacks, freighter grids, and pockets of commercial districts surrounded by blocky tenement highrises.
The pilot droid chirped over the intercom: "Master Jedi. My scans indicate that there are no suitable landing zones, even for our small shuttle."
"Improvise, you must."
"Understood, Master Jedi. Please remain seated with your seatbelts on."
Dao felt human suffering rising up out of this planet like a corpse stench. This was something beyond the colorful, chaotic misery of Mek Sha, the city of empty promises.
Master Yoda spoke across the cabin, "your instincts, Dao. Tell me."
"This place feels like… like a whole planet dedicated to using suffering to manufacture and export more suffering across the galaxy."
"The truth, you have. Correct this truth, we must."
The shuttle landed… in the middle of a court for some kind of local competitive sport. Shirtless humans with wild updo hair and headscarves, covered neck to navel with obvious gang tattoos and family marks, stopped their game mid-session and swore in local slang at the shuttle.
"We're getting out here?! What do you–"
"See me, they cannot. Take this. Never show it."
Yoda threw something at her. Dao's hand moved ahead of her own senses. She glanced over to see her right hand had caught the hilt of her old shoto saber. Then a black tendril slipped through her palm, grasped the shoto hilt, and pulled it into her arm. Dao barely contained her scream, instead making a long, muffled whining sound at the horror of it.
"A thing you do now, that seems to be. Take this also."
Yoda tossed the data chit from Arkania to Dao, "contains all you need, to care for yourself, to survive here, to find your safehouse and your allies."
She slipped the chit into her buttoned pants-pocket, her right arm still trembling, "this is all… I was hoping I could… I was hoping…"
"... is what it is, your fate. Change it, you cannot. Accept it, you can."
One of the toughs on the outside of the shuttle rapped his fist on the window, "helloooooo? Wanna buy some deathsticks, eh? While you're here, HEH."
Master Yoda wiggled his feet and remained strapped in, "go now, Dao. Never return to Coruscant. Never return to the Council. Of thise, you speak to no one. Understand?"
"... yes."
Dao unbuckled herself and hopped to her feet, "I'm a Jedi, but not a Jedi." She remembered Sabel, a term she'd used once in passing. "I'm a Low Jedi."
"Mmm. A good phrase. Yes. Know you the truth of water, Dao?"
Dao paused at the shuttle exit, hand on the latch, "no?"
"The highest good, water is – held sacred by all Jedi, it is. Nourishes all life, water does. Flows to the lowest places, it also does. Heals all, nourishes all, water does, even – especially in, low places. Lowest places"
The toughs outside had changed their game to bouncing the ball off the window over and over. A few were shaking up spray cans. Dao quietly dreaded stepping outside, but, she knew this would likely be the last time Yoda, or anyone from the Council at all, ever spoke to her for a long, long, long time.
"Water heals, Dao. Water nourishes. The wretched, the insane, the blighted, the cruel – water nourishes all. The water you must be, Low Jedi."
Dao absorbed it all as best she could with the distraction of that ball slapping on the window, "heard, Master Yoda. But where the kriff am I?"
"Balosar, a world of suffering. Reduce the suffering you must, Low Jedi."
"By nourishing?"
"Nourished, some will be. Drowned, others will. Go, Dao. Let them sink or swim."
Dao smiled a little, and so did Yoda. She pushed down on the latch and kicked the shuttle doors open, then slammed them shut. The shuttle immediately took off, blasting her back with gusts of hot wind. A dozen or so toughs circled around her, eyeing up her ink that they could see on her arms, neck, and bared abdomen under the simple sports top she wore.
"Mek Sha girl…"
"Long way from home."
"Mato Syndicate, oh hohohohohhoho, we got a player, here!"
"LONG LONG LONG way from home!"
Dao hooked her thumbs in her belt and spat on the ground between her feet.
"Yep," she said, letting them circle closer.
"Flower's got thorns…"
"You all were having a nice game. You should get back to enjoying it."
"We were having a nice game. We should get back to enjoying it."
Dao took the next half an hour to shoot some ball with them and learn the basics of what they called 'boulevard ball,' something they played in staked-out courts surrounded by makeshift fences to block traffic until the corporate enforcers came. She waved goodbye to her new friends and loaded up the data chit into her datapad around a corner.
The safehouse coordinates were easy enough to follow and the data chit had a reservoir of digital credits stashed away she used to secure a street speeder for herself from a local chop shop. An hour's drive and she wound down into the bowels of the city where the neon lights grew more familiar and the hawking and hollering of street life crept back in. People down here under the overpasses and bridges seemed a little less on edge, like the sky of this world was an oppressive force to them and being without it was a relief.
She kicked her speeder up against a wall and hustled down a few stories of narrow plasteel steps, following the graffiti markings as instructed through a winding maze of alleyways and nooks and channels. After another twenty minutes of that, she found the entrance: a trapdoor hidden inside of a lonely, spraypainted dumpster in an alley lost to urban sprawl. Looking up, she was engulfed in the roots of towering buildings.
It was a safe feeling. It was the feeling of being small and beneath notice.
Dao popped open the dumpster and slid inside. This sent her down a smooth pipeline that curved outward into a small space beneath the city gutters. Directly in front of her was a barricaded door. She approached and knocked the requisite six times, staggered twice.
A slit scraped open. Dao saw a pair of black eyes through it.
"What's the password," asked Ren, her eyes grinning.
Dao's heart soared, "let me in, you bantha turd!"
"Correct, although I also would have accepted 'bantha pile' or–"
"Shut the kriff up and open the door!"
The door heaved open. She was hit with a blast of warm air that smelled like instacaf and good rations with vegetables and mushrooms – Brunt was cooking in the open kitchen. Dimple was handling quartermaster duties in the hall and arguing with some of Kaya's Riders about ammo allowances. Ren wasn't in Mandalorian armor, but she had a new tattoo on her neck Dao wanted to ask about later.
"Come on, they wanted to see you right off."
Dao felt her head swimming with joy, "sure… who?"
Ren led her through the hall. Dimple barked at her, "Dao! You got a clean bill of health?! Hey, they let me keep a Mandalorian helmet, but I'm not allowed to wear it!"
"Show me later!"
Brunt wiped his hands clean across the kitchen bar and nodded to Dao in silence as she passed, like he'd been expecting her all along.
"Love you too, Brunt."
"Yep," he grunted, then turned his attention back to his giant stew pot, but not before whipping an original flavor energy drink at Dao. She caught it and cracked it open, the familiar, synthetic fizz comforting her even more than she thought possible.
In the tiny HQ of the safehouse, Dao nearly tripped over thick power cables multiple times. A small reactor in the corner of the room powered everything – apparently this operation was so secret they couldn't even draw from the local grid.
Kaya was right there in the thick of it, leaning over reports and giving orders to officers like nothing had ever happened. Tzentchen trailed after her, soothing bruised egos, handing out memos, and double-checking results from field agent reports.
Kaya was already pounding her desk, dressing someone down, "this is a hearts and minds campaign, agent, long-term, clean results!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"We are not here to stack bodies, we are not here to 'get the baddies' we are here on a mission of subversion and preparation and sabotage, okay? The forces arranged against us are towering and independent and corporate and they don't do half-measures, so neither should we. Shift gears, rider, I thought you rolled with the Mato Syndicate for ten years, what the kriff were you doing with them?"
"I was a bag guy, ma'am."
"Are you kidding me?! Ten years and you were –"
Kaya noticed Dao sipping her drink in the corner, "just do better. Please."
Dao approached, "Kaya. I didn't get a chance to thank–"
Kayatonae threw an arm around Dao and squeezed her so hard she thought her shoulder might pop. "Out of the pan and into the fire, eh kid?"
Tzentchen took a moment to glare fondly at Kaya from across the room. She made a point to look as exhausted as possible. "Please convince her to take a weekend off, Dao."
Dao made a face, "um… I'll try."
Kaya shoved a finger into Dao's sternum and laughed, "ha! Do your worst! You ready to jump into it, padawan? Questions, concerns, confusions, contusions? Anything?"
Dao looked around the room. She saw Ren lingering in the shadows, heard Brunt diffusing an argument, heard Dimple going on and on about gear, felt the warm hum of the reactor in the corner and the taste of fizz on her tongue. She glanced at Kaya and the many schematics, blueprints, and maps hand-scrawled on the table in messy reports.
"No," said Dao, "I think I'm right where I belong."
Epilogue
1 Year Later
Alpheridies, High Orbit
Master Fen had come to look very much forward to her starsoaks with Vritali. After the incident, they had become a lifeline for one another; after all, no one else in the galaxy quite understood what they had been through. Dao was gone, they were told, perished from complications during the surgery to remove the implants from her body, and this left poor Vritali hollowed-out with grief.
In an instant of bloody chaos, she had lost everything. Her beloved husband, her daughters, her sense of self. She sold her family land and lived off of invested dividends while drifting aimlessly in her skimmer, soaking up the void and telling herself she was healing. But in truth, it felt more and more like she was preserving the scars.
But, Fen was with her, now. Day by day, night by night, their time together became more and more fundamental to Vritali's mental well-being. Day by day, night by night, they felt their souls entwined in a way they hadn't felt since their youth, when Fen was a Consular-on-Retainer for the Miralukan delegation, and Seeker Vritali a young lady with a mind ravenous for lore and the Jinsu family fortune and Luka Sene connections to pursue it.
It had been just like when they were young together, before duty, parental responsibility, and time drifted them apart. Now, they were mutually-attached. How could they not be?
Inside the starsoak pod, they floated in zero-g, their fingers entangled, heads together. The door to the ship was cloaked, much like the ship itself, and if someone in a freighter chanced they would only see two attractive, mature women holding one another in the void of space. But no one was to chance by, as space was vast, and Alpheridies' orbital pathways enormous.
Below them, Alpheridies' dark side was a pit ringed by the red of the tidal band around the planet, which was where all Miralukan civilization lived. The red sun barely touched over the edge of the world. It was as eerie as it was mesmerizing.
Normally, they did not break the silence of the starsoak. But Vritali sensed something amiss with her Fen, and stroked a long strand of drifting platinum hair behind the woman's ear.
"Are you well?"
"A small headache."
"... I feel it, too."
They gazed at the black, red-ringed mass of Alpheridies in silence for a while longer. Now it was Fen who broke the silence, "we should quit it all, together."
"You would step down?"
"I have served for decades. Together, we thwarted what might have been a galactic catastrophe. We've earned retirement."
"... I agree with you," Vritali squeezed Fen's hand, "I'd like that. Where would we go?"
"Far. The garden worlds of the Rim, or even Wild Space. We could live aboard this ship, it is appointed well, and stealthy enough to evade most anything."
Vritali smiled, "you would get sick of me."
"Never."
They embraced. They even dared to nuzzle one another, and kiss. It did feel like love. Fen had been so strong for so long, it would be nice to be weak once more. But then she felt the sting of that headache again and leaned back, "Vrita, I am going to use the washroom and prepare a meal for us. Alright?"
"Of course, I'll be in the reading room… are you sure you're–"
"It's nothing, truly."
A reassuring peck and Fen drifted out of the chamber. She walked through the tight hallways of the little ship and into the washroom, where she locked the door. Fen turned on the water, which smelled of the recycling chemicals of the ship's purification systems. For a flash, she saw the Pod again. Her wet hands braced on the sink. Her arms trembled.
It passed. She stared down into the still water of the sink and centered herself.
All would be well. The stress was too much. They had offered her, over and over since the incident, the chance to step down and retire, given the circumstances. But for a full year she had refused, on the grounds of ensuring things 'got back to normal.'
Now felt like the right time, at last.
A drop of red blood flowered beneath the sink water.
Fen raised her fingers to her nose and touched her nostril. Her fingertips drew back deep red. She looked up into the mirror and controlled the reflexive gasp.
There in the mirror, a vision:
Alpheridies, the dark side with its thin red ring around it. At the center of that abyss, a pair of yellow eyes, staring up back at her. The vision fades. Her head spun. She braced herself against the walls so as not to fall. Vritali, hearing this, called out but her voice was a thousand miles away and spoken through mist. Fen? Fen, are you alright?
Fen whispered when she thought she was speaking clearly and confidently, "I'm fine."
What?
"... I'm fine."
She wadded up disposable towels and wiped away the blood, then stuffed them down the toilet to hide the evidence. But what was she doing? Hiding evidence from someone she loved. No. The truth must be out. Fen would not let this stand.
Fen opened the door. Vrita was there, arms outstretched, holding onto her, "I've got you," she whispered, over and over, stroking her back.
Whether by time or affection or both, Fen felt her strength return. She leaned back and gazed at Vrita's face, "we have to go far away, Vrita. And never look back. Never return here."
"Fen, you're frightening me."
"There can be no other option."
"F-fen?"
Fen walked to the cockpit and slipped inside the pilot's seat. Vrita sat down in the co-pilot's seat next to her. As Fen put her hands on the flight yoke, Vrita put her hands over Fen's and gazed into her, "I sense your dread, Fen. I see it in you as clear as the aurora. You cannot hide it from me, I recognize it, I've seen it before… before, in…"
"... then you know exactly why we must never return here."
"Yes… yes."
"She put something inside of us, Vrita. Whether it is some… hidden corruption, or the mere idea of it, or trauma so deep we cannot know it consciously, or some ill combination of all three, I cannot say. But lingering here, where it all happened, home or not, is unwise."
"Then let's go. Let's go and come what may."
Fen squeezed Vrita's hand and held the yoke with the other. Coordinates were punched in, star charts brought up. Wild space would swallow them and all memory of The Sabel that slept on the dark side of Alpheridies.
