The Ruby Claw hovered in orbit around Dantooine, the starlight glinting on its hull. In its main
lounge, two of Ne'kral's men relaxed, chatting about nothing in particular. Their conversation
was cut short by a bloodcurdling scream that reverberated through the corridors. Both men
bowed their heads and said a silent prayer for the youth suffering their master's wrath.
In her room at the Jedi Temple, Mya woke from sleep and sat bolt upright, her
companion's scream echoing through the corridors of her mind. Rest and rejuvenation forgotten,
she pulled on a robe and darted out the door. She ran along the grounds until she got to the
central temple, where she climbed the east side with the speed of a jungle cat. Finally, she
reached the roof and stared into the star-filled sky. Without hesitation, she reached out with her
mind and sensed Orion almost immediately, and shuddered involuntarily at the magnitude of the
pain he was feeling. Overcome, Mya sank to the stones and prayed for him, that he might
survive whatever he was suffering through.
Inside Ne'kral's torture chamber, the Sith extracted his vengeance upon the youth. Though he
was nearly insane with rage, the Dark Jedi exercised inhuman self-control, appearing outwardly
calm as he used a heated blade to open the skin of his charge in several areas, the cuts all placed
to inflict as much pain as humanly possible. After making nineteen such cuts, Ne'kral set down
the scalpel and picked up a syringe filled with sense- amplifying drugs designed to increase one's
awareness, specifically that of pain. He injected the young Jedi, then relaxed and entered a
meditative state while he waited for the drugs to take effect. "Soon", he thought to himself, "soon
I will have finished my quest for revenge on behalf of my son."
Orion had passed out after eleven cuts, but was woken up by the drugs. However, the
wounds had made him delirious, and he began to hallucinate. He saw Ne'kral, the Jedi Master,
sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him, apparently asleep, but only to an untrained eye. The
youth then blinked, and saw Vondo-baas Pugnaturus floating in mid-air, whispering something in
an archaic tongue. He closed his eyes, trying to escape, and was confronted by Junaria and
Leana in front of him, stretching out their hands as if to pull the unfortunate Jedi to safety.
He shook his head, trying one last time to clear his thoughts and find the Light within him.
Instead, his eyes were met by a horrifying spectacle. On the ground lay his love, Mya Victurus.
She had been beaten bloody, and her clothes were ripped and torn. The Jedi rolled her head in
his direction and whispered, "Why couldn't you protect me?" Then she collapsed and said no
more.
Orion was in shock for a split-second. Then the anger appeared. It grew and amplified and
strengthened and boiled and swelled until the Jedi thought he was going to explode for all of the
rage that seethed within him. Then a barrier collapsed, and he felt all of the blind anger drain
away, leaving something else. Hatred. Cold, calculating, heartless, emotionless hatred. The fuel
that once drove the assassin Lored Kedaga to perform legendary accomplishments.
Orion the Jedi Knight suddenly began to remember things from his past life. Memories,
emotions, thoughts, beliefs, and skills all resurfaced, demanding to be used to fight this threat.
Orion resisted, not wanting to fall back into his old life of pain and suffering, not wanting to give
up the Light.
However, he was weak from Ne'kral's torture, and so he finally gave in. A simple sequence
of thoughts ran through his mind, like a computer stating corollaries.
This man threatens the survival of myself and Mya, the one I hold most dear.
I do not wish for Mya or myself to die just yet.
Therefore I must take appropriate actions to ensure our continued existence.
Ne'kral sensed that fifteen minutes had passed, enough time for the drugs to take optimum
effect. He stood and stretched his legs before returning to the tray that held his tools. He never
saw the blow coming. As he turned around, heated durasteel blade in hand, a chair against the
wall hurled itself at him, cracking a few ribs and fracturing his left arm. Caught completely off
guard, Ne'kral staggered sideways and dropped his knife. In the same motion, he instinctively
drew his lightsaber and turned the stagger into a roll, coming up in a combat stance facing the
operating table, ignoring his injuries. He was met by Orion, who had broken free of his restraints
and was also ignoring his open wounds, though it took immense concentration. The two circled
each other, looking for an opening. Ne'kral saw one and didn't hesitate. He lunged forward,
bringing his blade down in a cut that would remove Orion's right arm at the shoulder. However,
the younger man sidestepped and countered with a punch to the chest, then a roundhouse to
Ne'kral's right knee, collapsing it. The Sith fell wordlessly, glaring at his opponent as he did.
Orion held out his hand, and the durasteel knife rose from the ground and flew to his palm.
Ne'kral made to raise his lightsaber for a last-ditch defense, but he was too slow. Orion moved
like lightning, guided by the instincts he had honed over years of experience as Lored Kedaga.
The blade gleamed in the light as it rose and fell again and again...
Ne'kral knew he was dead. Rather than try to fight it, he used his last seconds of life to
raise his lightsaber and trigger a small button nestled just below the main activation stud of his
weapon. A hole opened in the side of the hilt and a tiny dart flew out, hitting Orion in the crook
of his elbow. As the young Jedi stepped forward and raised his knife, unaware he had even
been hit, the dart injected its contents of a mind-altering Sith poison and then retracted its
needle, dropping to the floor where it quickly dissolved. Having done all he could do, Ne'kral
relaxed and closed his eyes, letting the darkness envelop him.
Orion blinked, hardly able to believe the damage he had just done to his torturer. Turning
away from the remains, he tossed the knife aside and opened himself to the Force. Expanding
his sphere of influence to encompass all of the Ruby Claw, the Jedi only felt the presence of two
guards, the ones who had captured him. Ne'kral must prefer solitude and the peace it
brings, thought the wounded young man. Then he took a deep breath and drew upon the
Force, using it to keep himself energized and alert.
The two guards were sitting in the Claw's lounge, drinking steaming cups of vine-coffine
and conversing aimlessly. They were caught completely off guard by Orion, who sprang from a
shadowed doorway, the ruby blade of Ne'kral's lightsaber flashing in his hands. The young Jedi
somersaulted over a couch, cutting one guard in half from his left shoulder to right hip as he
landed. Without pausing, he turned to the other guard, who had drawn his blaster and was
bringing it to bear. He cut up and across, taking off the guards arm at the elbow. He then
brought the red blade down and back across, taking off the guard's legs at the knees. The man
collapsed, clutching his cauterized stump and screaming. Orion silenced him with a stab through
the heart. Deactivating the weapon, the Jedi felt no pity for the men he had just cut down. After
all, they were the ones who had knocked him out and brought him up here suffer Ne'kral's
wrath.
Orion winced and stumbled. His endurance was almost completely spent. The Jedi knew he
needed medical help, and he knew that he would die soon if he didn't get it. Reaching out with
his mind, the youth found the Claw's cockpit and concentrated on it. After a few seconds he
located the controls for the distress beacon and turned them on. Then Orion collapsed, his
strength completely spent. Before he passed out, a single thought crossed his mind. I hope I
see Mya soon. Then unconsciousness claimed him, and the Jedi thought no more.