Brayl-class Bulk Freighter, Yoke; 44 ABY
Jec Tamish had always wanted to be a Jedi, it had been an ambition of his from his youngest days, swinging a makeshift sword cobbled together from a couple twigs and a stick. The first time he felt the Force had been when he was five. He and a group of younglings were trapped in a tornado. He'd drawn on a power he'd never felt before to save one of his friends from a falling rafter. That day had changed his life, for the better.
Twenty years later, he found himself not only one of the younger Knights of his generation, but assigned by Grand Master Skywalker to investigate the reports of pirates preying on Jedi-protected trade routes. With their exile from Coruscant, most security had been transferred over to local law enforcement and the military, except in special cases. Jedi Academies or satellites stayed under direct Jedi protection and authority. That was why these attacks were unusual.
Pirates, as a group, were not particularly brave, yet this one had apparently decided to engage the Jedi in a private war. Thus, he found himself along for the ride of one of the larger transports headed to a small hub out in the Outter Rim. Jec didn't actually remember the name, he was more of an action man than researcher.
"We're right on schedule, Master Jedi." The transports Twi'lek captain, one Dama Farfella, said as she walked up behind him.
Turning to regard the ship's commanding officer, Jec gave an embarrassed grin. "I'm only a Knight, actually."
Farfella flashed him a coy smirk and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Forgive me, you just hold yourself with such maturity."
It had been like this the whole trip, and truth be told Jec did find the Captain to be quite fetching. It wasn't all too common to see a female Twi'lek in such a high position of authority. Despite leaps and bounds, a disproportionately large number of Twi'leks still played in the slave trade. There was still a near-universal bias against them. Jec wasn't here for pleasure, though he was considering just how much he was allowed to relax on this mission. They were nearly to their drop point and there hadn't been any problems. Maybe the pirates had taken the day off. He inclined his head slightly. "You're too kind, Captain. I'm flattered."
"Nothing I said was flattery, it was the truth—" Farfella was cut off as the transport lurched forward, the blaze of streaked stars resolving into pinpoints of light as they were pulled out of hyperspace.
Arrayed before the relatively defenseless transport was a small armada of eclectic ships, some derelict and others markedly shiny, as if they'd been produced only yesterday. At the center of it all sat a Dreadnaught-class cruiser that seethed in dark power. Jec suddenly had a bad feeling about this. He'd read reports about the Sith Tribe masquerading as pirates. If that malevolent power in the dreadnaught was one of them, this cargo ship could be in trouble. A studious swordsman he may be, but Jec couldn't hope to stop a ship full of Sith.
"Send out a distress signal," Jec commanded while the helm crew scrambled to battle stations, "And make sure to include in it the attackers may be from the Lost Tribe."
Farfella shot him a confused look, all business now. "Lost Tribe?"
"Yes, just make sure you send it." Jec started to the exit, "If these pirates follow the methodology they have in the past, I need to be in the hanger for the boarding party."
They breached in haphazard waves, lacking the precision of genuine military commandos. They probably didn't expect the lightly armed and armored transport to put up all that much of a fight. They were wrong. Jec gathered what security he could on his way to the hanger, and arrayed them behind various covers. The first group was struck down as soon as they boarded, not even getting a shot off. That made the second set pause for thought.
When they came, they paved their way with grenades, bright strobes and shrapnel rocked the battlefield. The pirates that emerged from behind the smoke fought with a ferocity that Jec associated with the desperate and deranged, as if they were running as much from something at fighting them. They poured in, taking heavy losses along the way.
Jec's plasma-blue blade sizzled and streaked through the air, weaving baskets of deflecting light, sending blaster bolts back to their sources. He was surprised at the lack of planning on the brigands' part. They seemed to be hurling themselves onto the fire with an abandon that was unlike anything Jec had seen before. That was when the shuttle landed.
It was nondescript, but Jec could feel the vortex of power inside. Whatever had been on the command ship was here now. Twirling his lightsaber to a guard position, he watched the ramp lower. Instead of a Sith, another wave of half-mad pirates surged out. Jec slashed and swung his saber though them, they made minimal efforts to actually defend themselves. As the last one fell, a boy walked out to the ramp.
He wasn't all that much older than Jec was himself, but something was wrong. Flesh had melted and sagged, as if the muscle was wasted away. Dark varicose veins crawled up his neck and down his exposed limbs, like an infection. The eyes were naught but ivory spheres. Jec's mind inevitably flashed to zombie holos he'd seen as a kid.
"Finally, a more worthy vessel." The boy's words came out as a bass distortion, unlike anything one would expect him to sound like. He raised a clawed hand and sent out a Force pulse. Security and pirates alike fell before it, and Jec had to steady himself to avoid being knocked over.
"Surrender, Sith!" Jec called over the chaos, he angled his blade to the boy.
"Sith? Foolish Jedi, the Sith are no better than you. Feeble and cowering instead of serving the true nature of the Dark." He lunged.
Jec reflexively raised his saber to block whatever attack was coming, and was startled to see the boy's arm fall away, he'd ran right into the blade. That shock prevented him from doing anything further when the boy grabbed a hold of Jec's tunic and pulled him close.
Just before Jec lost consciousness, he gave a wordless scream as a shadow of starlight and shade shimmered over the boy's crippled body, dominating his vision.
Farfella was in damage control. All over her ship, pirates looted and, more disturbingly, killed everyone, even those who'd surrendered. She shouted to the comm station. "Did you get the message out?"
"No ma'am," the Sullustan comm chief shouted back over the screeching alarms. "They're jamming us."
She was about to utter a particularly racy curse when she saw the Jedi Knight stumble back onto the bridge. "Jedi Tamish, is something wrong?" She hurried toward him.
Not seeming to have heard her, he only looked from side to side, scanning the crew. She came to a stop in front of him and took his shoulders. "Are you hurt? The pirates are slaughtering us."
"Of course they are," his voice was wrong, like two people spoke at the same time, "I told them to."
"Told them—"
She didn't get a chance to finish her question as a fiery lance of pain shot through her stomach. She looked down to see Tamish's lightsaber plunged into her gut.
"He liked you, you know." Jec said this as if commenting on the unimportant, but he looked deep into her shocked eyes. "That's what makes this so much more . . . satisfying."
Farfella dropped, the blade extinguishing before it cut her asunder. She dimly noting the screaming of her crew as pirates burst through the door and started shooting, all but ignoring her and Tamish. He crouched down to his haunches and gave a cold smirk.
"He was the first," the Not-Tamish gloated. "Soon, he will be joined by all the rest, their ivory towers drenched in the blood of the those they 'protect.' Nightfall on the galaxy has begun."
Farfella clenched her stomach in pain, he'd sliced through one of her kidneys. "Chaos take you," she spat.
"Too late." he said and happily fed her a meter of azure flame.
Luxury 5000 Yacht Rook, Unknown Location Transitory Mists; 44 ABY
They awoke with a start, their bodies weak from the lack of movement for however long they were out. The Emdee droid, Ben was happy to find, had done its job well. A number of empty IV bags were discarded in the waste receptacle at the edges of their beds. Cracking his neck, Ben slid off the table and stretched. Joints cracked and popped from the sedentary position. He looked over to see Vestara going through a similar routine. Once they were done, and made sure the medical droid was back to standby, they headed to the cockpit to start their journey.
Traveling from here to Kessel wouldn't be a short trip. Ben was glad for that, as he had a feeling they'd need it to talk about what had happened. Pulling the leaver to enter hyperspace, they watched the familiar streak of stars zoom by as they started their journey. Ben rotated the pilot's seat to face Vestara. "So."
She knew he wouldn't forget what she'd said, or what had happened on the Lake. Her shoulders dropped in resignation and shame for her weakness. "So . . . " She drew it out in sibilant sigh, "You probably want to know what happened."
"That would be a safe assumption," Ben said. His voice was firm, not willing to be deflected, but not nearly as harsh as it would have been earlier in their relationship.
"Palpatine—he said things," Vestara's voice gave out midway, she didn't really understand why it was so hard for her to talk about. She couldn't figure out if it was just talking about her weakness, or talking about it with Ben. All her life, she'd always strived for others' respect as a peer, especially those of a higher tier, but never truly wanted them to be anything more than that. With Ben, she wanted him to be so much more, but afraid to put it to the test and find it lacking. "Things that I was thinking, even though I shouldn't."
"He used it?" Ben prompted, "Used it to try and make a deal?"
"Yes." She shifted, body physically squirming to keep it in.
"What could he possibly have said to make you try to help him?"
"He told me you'd leave me," She hung her head, it actually hurt to admit it. On one level it bothered her that she actually thought she needed him, that she wasn't as independent as she should have been, "That I needed his help to keep you."
Ben reached out his hand to her own. "Ves, I thought we already talked about this."
She pulled it away just as he was about to touch, folding it in her other coiling appendage. "I don't—I don't understand how you could want to be with me," She gestured broadly to herself, "like this."
Ben shook his head. He'd said everything he could, but she just didn't seem to want to accept that he wasn't obsessed with looks, that his feelings ran deeper than the surface. His face lit in epiphany and he reached up to his jaw. With a diagonal jerk, he split the seam along his cheeks, opening his altered mouth to its full length. He moved so fast, Vestara gaped in shock, made more pronounced by her own jaw line. Ben looked at her. "Do you think I'm a monster?" His voice had lost its normal tone, taking on the sing-song tone Vestara had gained before.
Whatever she'd expected, it wasn't that. She actually paused to consider his question, did she? He was, after all, like her. If she'd been asked before she ever met him, when she was completely obsessed with appearances, her answer would have been an unabashed 'yes.' But now? Now she looked on his face, twinkling blue stars, toothy grin and she found him . . . gorgeous. She was always focused on what he saw when he looked at her, but never thought about it the other way around. She was never repulsed by him, felt better with him around, was that how he saw her? "No, no I don't. I think you're striking."
"Then you see what I do when I see you," he said simply
"I never realized."
"You do now," Ben said. "But I can still show you."
Like he had before their astral trip, he opened his walls again, inviting her in. She was less hesitant than before, more secure in her own self after what she'd realized. They twine, but she didn't experience the moment of panic, just the feeling of oneness that only Ben Skywalker could give her. Their minds melded and touched, becoming two occupying the same space. Conscious thoughts drifted and the last thing she felt before drifting off to sleep was the plush silk of a bed.
Vestara woke several hours later to an experience she'd had only once in her young life before. She was swathed in pliable covers and pillows, her hand cackling as she generated static moving beneath. The main difference between the last time she's slept in the captain's cabin and now was the warm body, arms wrapped protectively around her. Much to Vestara's relief, they were both clothed. She may want to someday, a line of thought that she'd never imagined crossing her mind before, but for now did not want to find herself with child because she'd been too stupid to think beforehand.
Her responsiveness roused Ben. He rubbed his hands along her arms, the friction producing a warmth. "Good morning," his voice a soft choir.
Not really sure what to say in light of what they'd shared before they fell asleep, she reverted back to their repartee. "It is? I must have missed the memo."
She could feel him smile into the back of her neck, more pronounced now. "I'll make sure to forward that one next time." The response time was there, but he sounded much more rested than she'd heard before. "How did you sleep?"
"Wonderful. It feels . . . nice not to wake alone." Vestara started to roll over to face him, but decided against it midway. Ben hummed in agreement. After she felt herself wake a little more she asked, "how'd we get here? The last thing I remember was in the cockpit."
"I'm not sure, but I'm not really complaining."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't." She smiled, it was too good to pass up.
"Hey, I'll have you know—"
Before he could finish, she turned and covered his mouth with her own. The protest died a quick and happy death as he pushed back. When they finally needed to break for air, she smirked. "I'm not complaining, either, but we can't stay in bed until we get to the Maw."
"Are you sure? It'd be nice to just vegetate after all we've been through."
"Maybe, but you know I never want to stay still."
Ben wiggled his eyebrows and gave her an amorous leer. "Just because we're in bed doesn't mean we have to stay still."
Vestara rolled her eyes and gave him a pinch. Ben yelped and fell backwards off of the side. "Oh look, you're out of bed," she said in mock surprise, "I guess that means we can get going."
Ben absently rubbed the back of his head, which had, moments ago, become uncomfortably acquainted with the synthwood flooring. He mumbled something about being abused as Vestara, now quite awake, hopped out of bed to give him a hand up.
"Now what exactly did you want to get out of bed so much to do?" Ben asked, still slightly put out from earlier.
"What do you mean?" She gave him an innocent look.
"Come on, Ves, I know you too well." They were walking down one of the entranceways to the starboard hanger bay, "You wanted to do something."
She gave a little pout, but it was obviously forced. "Fine, I thought we could . . . practice a little."
"Practice?"
"You know," Vestara rolled her neck, "ever since we woke up on Shedu Maad we never really got a chance to see what we could do. It's all been reactions and staying alive."
Ben gave her an exasperated look. "You pulled me of a nice warm bed to train?"
"Don't be like that. Besides, if you're good," She flashed him an affectionate look, "we might wake up like that again."
Ben actually missed a step there and landed flat on his face, his hands just outstretched enough to avoid breaking his nose. Vestara doubled over in laughter, mirth sharking her shoulders and glistening tears rolling down her cheeks. Ben felt a pattern emerging and sent her a mock scowl. "You're evil."
Wiping a tear from her eye, Vestara could only nod. She bent over and helped Ben up, making sure he hadn't actually hurt himself. "Only as much as you'll let me be," she said, "Now, come on."
The hanger bays on both sides of the ship had been empty when they'd taken it, so it did make them an ideal location to actually train. They took opposite corners and Ben was the first to ask."What exactly do you want to practice at doing?"
"Not really sure, I guess we wing it." She drew her gilded saber and thumbed the ignition switch. Crouching low, she leapt at Ben, green blade sizzling over her head.
Ben parried her attack in a blue flash of energy. Angling it down, he slid her blade off to the side and came back in a diagonal stroke. Vestara spun away and carried her saber in a roundhouse on Ben's unprotected flank. Dropping to his haunches, Ben spun with his leg outstretched, hoping to knock Vestara off her feet. She leapt back in a summersault, ending up on one of the hanger walls and pushed herself off.
The Force pulsed with both of them, Ben's one of luminous energy and Vestara's one of darkness. Ben hadn't really thought about it since they'd last been on Abeloth's planet, how she'd taken in all of it from the Font of Power. She hadn't actually done anything that Ben would consider genuinely bad since they'd drunk, nothing like what he'd seen Jacen doing. He seemed to have a moderating influence over her now—
"A little less on the philosophical musings, more action."
Ben ducked another jab, this one stopped midway and turned into a slash. He caught the blow and locked the blades together. "Not nice listening in," he grunted. She definitely had gained a lot more strength. Before, he'd had more physical inertia in his blows, while she had agility. Now, they were more matched.
Vestara leaned in over the two blades, something that would be suicide against a real opponent, and pecked his nose with a kiss. "I never said I was nice." She dropped to the ground and rolled behind him. Ben threw his saber over his head without turning and intercepted her rear attack. He was about to follow up on his block when he felt a snake-like coil around his leg and pulled.
Ben fell, though that was more from a sudden realization that hadn't hit him until now more than Vestara's attack. She felt his shock through the Force and dropped to his side. "Ben, are you okay?"
"My ankle . . ." he trailed off looking down at it.
"Oh gods, Ben, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking." His words had reminded her of what had happened not a week before.
"That's not it," he assured her, "It's just . . . healed."
Ben pulled up his pant leg and examined the smooth skin there. He'd known the Emdee droid had put Bacta on it when they'd gone to Beyond Shadows, but there was no way it would be healed already. Even a healing trance would take longer for something as non-life threatening as that.
They looked at one another and had a pretty good idea of the other's thoughts without using their connection. Abeloth had possessed a rapid healing ability, unnatural in most humanoids. They'd taken on a few of her traits already, but there seemed to be more to come.
Brayl-class Bulk Freighter, Yoke; 44 ABY
Cronal flexed his new hands experimentally. This body would do much more nicely than that pirate scum. He'd nearly burned the previous one up, forcing power through it that it had never been acclimated to. Of course, Cronal had spared the boy's life, he was still doubled over in the hanger clutching his stump. Destruction had its place, the ultimate goal, but there were some things that just felt so good.
He closed his eyes, accessing the deep-rooted powers of the Dark, finally with a body that could handle the strain. He'd been among heretics for so long, he actually felt nostalgic for his early family, the Sorcerers of the Rhand. Hidden in the Nihil Retreat, they understood like no one else, that there was only one Truth in this otherwise meaningless life. Only power is real, and the only real power is the power to destroy. Existence is fleeting. Destruction is eternal. His new hand curled into a fist, he now had a chance to regain that power that Skywalker had robbed him of all those years past.
The bridge fell away to vague reflections and shadows. Cronal had been gifted with the greatest of the Dark's gifts: Darksight. With it, he could see the futures, the possible outcomes and force his design on their unfolding. He followed the strand that led him from here. He was surrounded by a rainbow of colors, jewels hidden away, protected for what they offered. The landscape changed again. This time, he stood in a stone castle, familiar in its design, and watch Luke Skywalker fall to the ground, by his hand. Cronal knew he would never see the troublesome Jedi again after that. The future was fractured, but those common points remained the same throughout. This was his time, time to sow the seeds of entropy and watch the galaxy cry out as the life was cut out scores at a time. The visions faded, leaving him alone on the bridge.
The Twi'lek's corpse laid where he'd left it, his servants having secured the ship. The smell of ozone and death curled through the doomed ship. He had what he'd truly wanted, a new body, a new host. He would be able to do so much more now, his knowledge of the Jedi grown by what the Knight he inhabited knew, pried from his mind with razor will.
What to do with the ship? It was a secondary concern now, but still one worth considering. Cronal strolled up the charred walkway admiring the gore splashed on the consoles. He'd just reached the forward viewport when he felt the twist in his essence. The witch had done that, sent a part of her along with him.
My children are seeking the Pool of Knowledge.
Cronal hadn't any inclination as to who exactly these 'children' were, or what this 'Pool of Knowledge' was, so he said as much. "And this should hold some meaning to me?"
Do not patronize me, you will do as I command. Find them. Stop them.
The twist became painful, like a constrictor around his heart. Had the pirates had any notion of free thought, they probably would have thought him insane, to be talking to himself. "How do you wish me to do that?" The sooner he'd satisfied this wretch, the sooner he could go back to his true mission: the systematic destruction of, well, everything.
They travel to the land of black holes, the prison. Go there.
"As you wish." Turning, Cronal summoned his pirates with a mental tug. It was time to go, and he'd decided on a fate for the transport. After all, it was only polite to make that final delivery.
Author's Note: And here we get the first look of our villain in action. Cronal is actually a real character, not an OC, just not very well known. I'm going to try and give enough information in the story so you know what he's about, but if you're interested in learning more, he does appear as the main antagonist of Luke Skywalker and the Shadows of Mindor, and yes, that's the same Mindor from the previous chapter. He's kind of a dark character, and I hope I brought that out here.
As far as the first part with Ben and Vestara, I couldn't help but remember an old Aladdin episode 'Eye of the Beholder' when writing that scene. Has nothing to do with the plot, but if you've seen it, you'll probably know why.