Note: Not sure what there is to say. I'm working on chapter 37. I aint that satisfied with those chapters. So I might have to hold on for the Beta Reader or something. Not sure. I am always open for more Beta Readers.

In this episode, we are coming close to the mid-point of the whole fiction.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the clothes on my back.

Episode 8 - Shadows of Coruscant Part 2/3

Aaaaaaaaand I'm back at the temple. Yippeeeee.

"Have I mentioned how much I-"

"Yes." Tree-Hugger and Girly both say at the same time in the same bored voice. Ok, if they both say it like that, I must have mentioned it a few times.

We had left The Blackfish earlier that day and headed for the temple. Now, I'm not so sure. My gut tells me we are heading for the Council Chambers to report on our mission, but Tree-Hugger already did that. Training? Did. Eating? Done that. Slept? Too much. I already did reading, and my psychiatric session, and carried my luggage off The Blackfish. I'm still carrying it, swords and all. The Blackfish was nice enough to not say anything about me taking these beautiful things off the ship and have them on me. Security didn't even bat an eyelash! Tree-Hugger's presence may or may not have had anything to do with that, but I'll leave the 'what ifs' up to the higher powers to contemplate.

All I know is: I don't know what we're doing.

"What are we doing?" I ask.

"I'm returning some findings." Tree-Hugger says.

"We did that."

"No, I gave my report. I haven't turned over the physical findings themselves. Data recordings, hardware, anything I picked up along the way. Then I will probably check in with the Council."

Which means what to me? "What's my role in this?"

"Nothing. You can do whatever you want."

I stop walking. "SERIOUSLY?!" I yell in disbelief. "I've been following you all this way, and I could have stopped anytime?!"

"Yep." Tree-Hugger tells me over his shoulder. "We are between missions while the ship restocks and refuels. Unless I call you on your comm, your time is your own."

WHY DIDN'T THEY TELL ME OTHERWISE! I could have gone and done whatever I wanted!

Wait… What do I want to do?

…

OH! I dash away and head for the library. Odd place to me to be, I know. But I'm a man on a mission. I land in a chair, swivel it around, and hit the computer. My fingers whizz across the keyboard as I I go through junk and screens until I find what it is I want.

Profiles Search: …

I punch in Varus Wynn.

Immediately I get a twenty page document. It has my face… I don't remember a picture being taken.

Name: Varus Wynn

Race: Human Male (Since when is 'male' a race?)

Age: 19 (I thought I was younger. That works.)

Occupation: Jedi Padawan

Marriage Status: Single (Wouldn't it be better to say 'not'?)

Current Address: Jedi Temple

My Address is the Jedi Temple… The mere sight of those words next to that label is burning holes in my eyes. It's a horrid sight to behold. This place is not designed for being lived in! It's a spit and polish, stone, empty, massive, echo-chamber in a pot filled with robe-guy-statues and an army of killer-monk-pacifists!

But wait. I have a free day to myself. I hate this temple. I know a place where I can move in, possibly at the Temple's expense. Conclusion? I'm getting out of here. That is what I'm doing with my day.

I grab the entire document, and anything the computer has on me, and stick it all into my data pad. It takes about half a minute to download it all and I'm out the library so fast the chair spins and falls over. Even carrying all my luggage I dash through the halls and paths and upstairs and down elevators (Wrong turn. I shouldn't have taken the stairs.) and burst into my room.

My room is made up of… not much. A bed with a single sheet. No pillow. All my clothes are in my bag. So is my alarm clock. For that matter, there is nothing in this room that belongs to me. I took every bit of it with me. Why did I bother coming here? Actually, scratch that. My name is written on a slip of paper on the door. I reach up and snatch it out.

Done.

It takes me about an hour, timed, to get to the huge apartment complex Ahsoka had guided me to. From what she had told me before, there are a LOT of Jedi here. It is a kind of Ten-Star resort funded by tax-payers for Jedi who need to be given room outside of the Temple. The Temple is mostly designed for Masters, teachers, scholars, Jedi-Rocket-Mathematician-Geek-Scientists, and then Jedi traveling to and from the Temple without being home to Coruscant.

Just so we're clear, I am none of the above.

I lug my luggage off the taxi, strap my dual blades to my hips, pay the taxi-driver, turn around, and take a big whiff of me-getting-out-of-that-place.

The platform leads down to the outdoor gardens and relaxing areas. The contrast is already clear. The temple was just grass with a few trees. Nothing to it. As empty as the temple itself. This place has trees, bushes, flowers, little water fountains, a small pond designed to look somewhat natural, benches to sit on, and a path walk leading to and fro. People are picnicking, sleeping under trees, and -correct me if I'm wrong- but there are three aquatic-race people jumping in and out of the pond.

The flowers and pretty trees and sappy mean nothing to me, but this place has one thing that instantly makes me more comfortable. It isn't a giant blank wall of perfectionism coated in 'shiny'. It. Looks. Lived. In. The people -Jedi I presume- are ACTUALLY SMILING! I almost didn't think that was POSSIBLE!

Well, one of them isn't smiling. The little gold-head is pacing back and forth in front of the double-door leading in. He is male, but I can't make him out clearly until I get cl- Oh crap!

I jump behind a tree out of his sight. Its Falcon-boy. Uh-Fallon. Fallene. Something. Thank the Force he didn't see me…

He doesn't scare me at all, but wherever the heck he goes, Psycho-Bunny is bound to be near. I do a quick stealthy glance around in all directions. Psycho-Bunny's signature white top-knot is nowhere in sight. His grizzly features is not staring me down from behind the bushes. Right now I wish I could sense his insanity in the Force, but not being able to see him will have to do.

Now what is Falcon doing here?

"Hello." I say. I leave the cover of the trees and walk near him.

Falcon stops walking and the twelve-year old flushes in embarrassment. (At least I think he's twelve.) "H-H-Hello."

"Relax, Falcon. I'm not here to interrogate you."

"I-Its F-F-Falon."

Ok, when did he develop a stutter? Hmm… He never really did say much to begin with the few times I've seen him. He usually just listens, does as he is told, and minds his own business.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. Falon's eyes dart inside for a moment before snapping down to his feet. Something's got him bothered.

"Is there something you need inside?" I press.

"N-No, I'm f-f-fine."

"No, you're not. You're working yourself up."

He breathes in deeply and says more strongly, "I'm fine."

I grin evilly, and he flinches. "Good," I say. He eases up, a bit. "Then I guess you don't mind this." I take his arm and before he can protest I drag him physically through the doors. He immediately squirms like a worm out of my grip, and cowers into himself.

"Varus!" He snaps in a quiet-yelling-indoor voice. "Don't do that!"

"Hey it got you inside didn't it?" I tease. I glance around at all the sights. This place looks even more enticing than the last time I was here. "Now shut up and get your apartment."

"I'm too young…" He returns with a force glare and tilt of an eyelash. It raises so perfectly that I swear Psycho-Bunny has had him practicing in the mirror. I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Something slightly blue appears in my peripheral vision.

Eria!

I disappear so fast the air collapses in on itself where I was previously. I might have just invented Force Teleportation. I fix the positioning of my luggage on my back as I lean back against the wall hiding me, and hold my breathe. Slowly, carefully, inch by agonizing inch, I lean my head toward the end of the wall and look.

She didn't see me.

I return to hiding and release the breathe I was holding. It was a good breathe. My release is followed by a second, smaller release right next to me. "Falcon?" I ask. "What are you doing?"

His head is red like an LED light, his breathing is staggered, his eyes are open in shock until now… and this is him recovering from… something. He doesn't answer me. Instead he nervously glances out the other side of the wall, and I follow his line of sight. Eria.

I hid to keep from being stuck with an awkward situation, and he hid from the same person… because…

…

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaait. Hold on a second. Is that even possible for Jedi? I thought Jedi were supposed to have all the personality of a cement block.

Slowly my lips curl into a grin that can be described as knowing, scheming, conniving, and downright evil. I'm sure someone could come up with a lot more words to describe it, but I'll settle with horrifying from Falcon's expression. His eyes expand slowly at the same rate as I my lips open to reveal teeth that could be razor sharp right now in his mind.

I slowly lean down and whisper lightly in his ear, "You like her, eh?"

He immediately goes into a loud, red-faced fit of stammering and sputtering and being completely obvious about it.

He's twelve, she has got to be fifteen or sixteen. Did their versions of 'like' even exist in the same area? No matter. If things go about the way I have in mind, I'll no longer have to play hide'n'seek, and I will have done a good deed for the day, for a friend. Because, yes, I am officially labeling little Falcon as a friend.

Nah… Never mind, that would just be mean. He might thank me later, but Tree-Hugger would be ticked if I did something like that. Then Kota would stick a bulls eye on my back. And it's so tempting too.

Damn. A perfectly good oppurtunity lost because I have to do the 'proper' thing.

Anakin watched as the meeting ended and he was excused. He waited a moment and the door opened a moment later. Out walked a tall, armored, Mandalorian soldier colored in black and green camouflage splotches. He nodded to Anakin.

"That went better than I expected." Anakin remarked.

"To you." Izthark said gruffly. "Their doubts were… great."

"That's part of politics. Everyone doubts everything until they have solid proof. There is nothing behind empty words."

The man turned his helmet down to Anakin. "My words were not empty, Jedi." He sounded insulted.

"To those who understand Mandaloriens, maybe not. But there are few on the Council, or the Senate for that matter, who will take a single thing you say without remembering the wars. The wounds are still fresh."

"That was years ago…"

"And it will stay fresh so long as there is anyone in this generation who remembers it." Anakin mused.

Izthark nodded silently. Anakin continued, "With my backup to your claims, they will come to acknowledge Mandalore intentions behind his 'attack' on Dantooine, but I ask that you do not be insulted. Politics and Mandaloriens, I have found, never mix. Politics cannot understand honor and loyalty, and you all cannot tolerate shadow games and cryptic words."

"Cowardly is all it is…"

"See?"

Izthark shook his head in disbelief and sighed. "I appreciate your assistance, Jedi. I believe Mandalore ambition to be true and strong. I wish I could have been of more use to the cause. If you did not stand by me, I fear for what would have happened. My people cannot stand another war right now."

They stopped at the elevator and entered in. The doors closed and they looked out through the glass over Coruscant as the elevator descended. "You're welcome. I did promise Mandalore after all. I still have his boots as part of the deal."

"Boots of Mandalore…" Izthark murmured. "I know a lot of contacts who would kill for to have the privilege just to touch them. Not to mention a few wealthy collectors who would set you for life."

Anakin chuckled. "No, thank you. Money is not an issue with me."

True enough, being a paid General of the Republic, allowance from being a Jedi Knight, and married to the former queen of Naboo. He honestly didn't know how much money he had access to anymore. All he knew was there were a whole lot of 0's.

Izthark nodded his understanding, "Very well."

The elevator stopped and the exit opened. They left the Council's private lift and departed the temple. The landing pad to the side of the Temple complex came into view. "What do you plan to do now?" Anakin wondered. "Mandalore put a lot of trust in you to send you here with me to report of the Mandalorians intentions."

"I am not sure what I will do." Izthark admitted. "He sent me here, as you said, for Mandaloriens intentions. Perhaps I will stay a short while… see who else I can convince that he does not desire war."

"So your just changing hands from Klasin to him? You're not going your own way?"

"I did change hands, but, I do not mind it. Klasin, the clan be damned, lost its honor. Those that removed themselves from it are scattered and dispersed across the other clans. To be fair, this isn't something I wasn't prepared for. It is an honor to support an honorable cause and an honorable man, and Mandalore no less! It feels almost… surreal to think the position has been restored."

Anakin smiled, "Good, I'm happy for you. But I will warn you, what you think of doing is the one thing your people have trouble with most. Politics."

"You're kidding…" He groaned.

"Nope. If you want to ensure everyone understands you don't want war, you have to get knee deep in politics and favors and cowards."

"And paperwork…" Izthark groaned more deeply. "Can't I just cut my hand? Make a vow or?"

Anakin shook his head and chuckled. "No, no, no. Welcome to politics. From here on out it's all about words and maneuvers and favors and pretend power."

They stopped at Anakin's ship and he entered in. Izthark hesitated, but entered in as well. He took the seatbelt and strapped it around, but it was too short for his armored frame. He took another seatbelt and tied the two together. With a resigned sigh, he said, "This is punishment… isn't it? Mandalore is punishing me…"

"I'll send you to a Senator friend of mine, who will find you a good teacher and ally's to start you off…"

Starkiller… The core of her nightmares, the Sith murderer, had a name. Before he had always existed as an unknown person whose face haunted her and whose existence chased her. Now, he had a name. It made him sound slightly less symbolic and more human. More vulnerable.

"I know him." Maris confirmed.

The Sith turned off the holoprojector and said, "Good. How do you know him?"

"He murdered my master." She said evenly. She felt her jaw twitch slightly in anger she couldn't restrain. The wound was still fresh. Not so bad that she was going to collapse in on herself again, but not so much she had full control again.

The Sith nodded. He stepped back and for a moment, Maris felt the place was less threatening. It was but a moment, but she could tell he was pleased.

She didn't know what to say. She answered his questions, and he stood there watching her with his sick eyes. Even as she watched a patch of skin fell off his forehead and dangled over his eyes. It was as though his entire body was falling apart right there in front of her, and he didn't react. His eyes stayed firmly on her. And he didn't seem inclined to say anything.

Rather, he seemed to enjoy the silence. It swept over them in waves of tension and she felt her lungs choke on it. She didn't know what it was he wanted beyond his few questions, and she didn't know where she was specifically. He stood squarely in the door way, so escape wasn't about to happen, and even if he wasn't he was too powerful for her to risk any stupid moves like that. Her death was all but sealed at his whim.

At last he ended the overpowering silence. He reached up, ripped the dangling skin off his forehead, tossed it aside and said, "Starkiller has become a tool of the Jedi for their own means."

"They are working together in a common goal." She corrected cryptically. "He isn't a tool."

"Do you truly think so?" The man asked with a tilt of his head. "Do you think Jedi and Sith CAN work together for a common goal? Do we even HAVE a common goal, little girl?"

Maris opened her mouth to argue, but stopped. Jedi and Sith were polar opposites. There is nothing in common for them except pure inability to tolerate each other.

The man continued, "Jedi disapprove of all emotion and Sith embrace emotion at the most basic, instinctual level. All we can do is consider each other tools of our own means and ambitions."

"That's you." Maris seethed. "Jedi do not. We don't use 'tools', we don't use people like that. We don't betray one another and cast each other aside as nothing. That's what Sith do."

"And you would be right. Yet you are also wrong." He started pacing around her. "One to embrace power, and one to seek it. One to imprison, and one to seek freedom. One to be the goal, and one to chase after it. These are written into our very codes and teachings."

"Then how am I wrong?"

"All Sith know our younglings will be the death of us at any point. It is part of the natural cycle. It is expected, it is understood, it is embraced. It is not betrayal, it is law. Betrayal, is where you believe things to be true and just, only to find it's not. Betrayal, is to have a friend you believe in, only to be stabbed in the back. It is betrayal to go against the bonds and agreements and relationships forged between you."

Maris shook the voice, and the words, away. "No. The Sith always betray one another." Azhaak Ti had told her so.

"And the Jedi do not?" The man wondered. He stopped pacing just in front of her. He pointed to her data pad and ordered, "Pick it up."

Maris hesitated, looked at him carefully and noted he continued to point and watch her closely, and she did so. She flicked it on and checked her mail.

She gasped and threw it away. "It's… it-it's a lie! Your lying!" She spat at him.

The data pad flickered slightly. On its surface was a picture of Starkiller in bed with the words: "Varus sends his love." From Ahsoka Tano.

The man picked it up and said, "Well… Somebody's lying. The only question is: 'who?'."

Without warning he reached up, grabbed her face, and everything disappeared.

"Hello." I said.

I had come forward expecting it to be very, VERY awkward, but interestingly enough it wasn't.

Eria turned and instantly smiled. It might have been pleasant if half the smile wasn't taken up by those eyes. "Varus." She greeted me.

By the Force, those eyes… Focus! "Uh, yes. I am interested in getting an apartment."

"So you changed your mind I take it?" I nod.

"Great! Come with me." She turns and walks down a short hall to another room with a set of desks and chairs. Workers are behind the desks and she sits down at a terminal. I see Falcon's shadow loom near. I roll my eyes. With a grab and tug he is out in the open where he belongs, cringing like a worm.

"Get a hold of yourself." I whisper.

"Th-This wasn't even m-m-my idea! I do-don't wa-want to d-d-do this." He returns.

"At your pace, you would still be outside."

"I'll be ha-happy to step back and r-re-reanalyze!" He turns to leave, and I hold him there by the scruff of his shoulder.

He is staying put and HE IS GOING TO LIKE IT!

"Alright!" She says cheerfully. Her eyes show her bright emotions, which is like sticking a siren on a stick. I'm sorry but this is just waaay too much happy. How can someone with all the emotions of a screaming police siren tolerate working around a religious order with all the personality of polished bricks?!

"What kind of apartment are you wanting?" She asks me.

"Any." I say quickly.

"Alright, I'll go with normal default… Now here are your options." She presents some keys. "They are all the same size: five-thousand square feet, but there are some differences. Views, appliances, neighbors, and what you will find yourself having access should play a role in your decision."

"Alright." I say. "I will check them out a bit later."

Normally I tune people out with long drawn out crap, but despite my intentions of Eria-Falcon, we are discussing something serious here. I'm moving, I need to know a few things. Not sure how much five-thousand square feet is, but I don't care. So long as I can put what I want in it.

She presents some papers. "Excellent! These will need to be signed. When you have the room selected, write it down as well. And we will need a blood sample."

"What?" I ask. Blood sample?

She frowns apologetically, "I'm sorry. Policy procedure. Here…" She points at a small map. "Is the residential doctor's office. I'm sure he can fill you in for a quick sample later today."

"Alright…" I groan.

She turns her, massive, attention on Falcon and says entirely too cheerfully, "What about you? You here to rent or?"

Falcon's eyes explode out and he freezes like a statue. Ye, he is going to be a lot of work. I cover for him, "Oh, no, he isn't. He's a friend. Name's Falcon."

"Oh! I'm sorry."

"It's fine." I let her know. "Thanks Eria."

She bows. "You're welcome, Varus, Falcon."

We leave. Falcon has a big stupid grin on that makes him look utterly ridicules, and I can't help nudging him into a pillar. His head is off in la-la land.

"Oof! HEY!" He snaps. "Wait… You told her my name's Falcon!"

"Ye?"

"ITS FALON!"

"Oops." I shrug. "Too late. Think you should have it fixed."

We enter the doctor's office. It takes about ten minutes to be seated, have blood drawn, and they give me a paper analysis. It's a bunch of slots and boxes with words and crap, but I guess it's important. Semi.

Blood thing? Check.

Now to the rooms and filling out paperwork.

This one has a huge view! I can see huge skyscrapers and far distances aaaand now I don't care… It looks almost exactly like the same stinking view in every other room Eria gave me a key to.

There isn't a kitchen. Huge points off this room. "I think the last one was nicer." Falcon says.

"Yea…" I say distantly while I look around. There is two bathrooms and one room… why would you do that? What a waste. "But it smelled funny."

"Smelled funny? I didn't smell anything."

"How did you not notice the huge smell of yack and sweat?!" I holler from inside a distant bathroom. It has a tub, toilet… no sink. Am I supposed to wash my hands in the toilet?! WHO DESIGNED THESE APARTMENTS?

He makes a noise that sounds like he is shuddering. "Oh, that. That was the open window breeze."

The window was open? I don't remember that.

"Still major points off." I tell him. "I ain't about to live downwind to yucky and sweaty neighbors." I come out of the back rooms and have to say, this room sucks.

I flip through the keys. Two left. "This isn't going to work, let's go to the next one." I tell him.

We enter the next one on a lower floor and… it looks nice. The carpeting is green, the front door opens into a dining room slash kitchen. Several appliances. On the other side of the large room is a large window making up most of the wall. I head into the bedroom. Small bed and mattress, one in table, small dresser, a desk to work at, and the fresher bathroom is also small, but has the three main ingredients to being a bathroom. Plus a mirror.

Naturally just about every aspect of the apartment can be replaced, but the main things are there. Light fixtures inside the ceiling aren't exactly grand or high class but they aren't easily noticeable and offer a lot of light.

"I like this one." I hear Falcon say from the dining room. Or is it the living room? Probably both.

"You're not the one buying it. But I'll take your thoughts into consideration when I buy the one with fur-lined walls." His out loud revulsion makes me laugh. That was a really disgusting room to look at. We opened the door and closed it just as fast.

"You're not a vegetarian are you?" I tease him.

"Yea, so?"

"Oh, comon, Falcon! You need a dose of manliness! Find some meat and just tear into it. Some things just demand the barbaric approach."

"No, thanks."

I enter the living room and check out the kitchen. Plenty of drawers, an oven, stove, sink, dishwasher. A counter sits in the middle of the room splitting the kitchen off from the living/dining room, and it looks like I can easily cut and cook on it. The counter top actually also acts as a stove of its own if I want it to be in different segments. I could cook straight on this thing, forget pots or pans.

"So far so good." I say, mostly to myself.

Next up, window.

It has a view to gardens and A POOL! This place has a pool!? Wait… why do I care?

"This place has a pool." I say flatly.

He flinches and the only reason I catch it is because I'm looking right at him. "You don't like pools?" I ask.

"No. Not really."

Ok, that's fair. But still, this is the most interesting view yet. Here are actually people and green and stuff that I can actually look at instead of an anonymous view of hover cars and white buildings.

"Let's check out the next room just in-case." I say. Falcon jumps off the couch.

It takes about ten seconds, and two sets of seven sneezes for us to struggle our way out and slam the door shut, and another four minutes before we can breathe again. Whoever the heck owned the last one had left enough fur to make it look like it was snowing inside!

I look at him through watery eyes, my face is covered in fur that was just in the air!, and his eyes are red and watery too. "I think we have a winner." I cough out.

"Now what?" Falon asks.

"Well, I got paperwork, but I can do that later… Where's Psych-… I mean Master Kota?"

Falon shrugs. "Front lines for a quick mission. It was deemed a level 1. Too dangerous for Padawans. He's with four other Masters."

"How long?"

"A while, I usually just train, sit in the library, or wander." He tells me.

"Ok, in that case, I don't think he would mind us getting dinner."

He brightens up at the idea of food. Its evening and I'm hungry. He's got to be as well with his growth spurt coming up.

I'll just wait to tell him it's going to be meat-themed. He needs a crash courses in 'real'. He can eat his wimpy stuff with someone else.

As soon as I know a place to go…

…

Bah, I'll ask Eria what nearby.

Maris had nightmares of late, but none worse than now. She forced herself awake, but her thoughts chased her from the realm of dreams into reality.

Somebody's lying… the question is 'who'? The man said.

The Sith always betray one another. Her master would tell her.

And Jedi do not? The man asked.

Varus, new Padawan under my Master. Ahsoka had mentioned.

Varus is classified. Master Windu told her coldly.

Varus sends his love…

Despite herself she curled up in a ball on the cold metal chair. She fought against the despair, the hopelessness of the knowledge that this 'Starkiller' was so close. Yet she could not. The Force did not comfort her, it did not take away her confusion or dread. If anything the absence of Force, the hungering aura all around her, made her feel caged in and alone more and more. She felt completely cut off from all people, the land, the world, the Force, everything. In its place was the empty, infinite void resting in her heart and slowly expanding.

Assassins rarely left witnesses. Some they left just to kill later. It was a cold hard fact she had heard in training. Now this cold, hard fact was chasing after her. The murderer had left her to die on Felucia, but would undoubtedly come after her now that he knew she had survived.

Even if Starkiller didn't come specifically to target her, he would undoubtedly turn on everyone he was around. He would turn on the very Jedi who were covering for him in some ridicules hope he would complete the deal and go on his merry way. No! He would use the Jedi, turn around and kill them, and laugh at their corpses! Their entrails would run out and blood would-

Oh no… His partners were Ahsoka and General Skywalker!

Adrenaline spiked through every vein in her body so fast she felt like her body was instantly boiled. Skywalker was strong, and Ahsoka was no pushover for a Padawan, but this Sith wasn't a dumb run-of-the-mill acolyte! His style was specifically designed to fight Masters! His art was chaos and death all rolled up in one!

The Jedi probably expected Skywalker would be able to handle it when Starkiller turned on him -they had to have expected that! It would be unthinkable for them not to!- but what hope did they have against a true Sith Assassin who could killed Azhaak Ti, one of the most skilled Jedi, with ease!? The Jedi had all but sentenced them to their death!

She knew instantly what she had to do.

The man for all his wanted power, had proven as insane as she expected. He had left her unrestrained, and the door was left wide open. Well, broken, technically. She jumped up and ran out as fast as her legs could carry her.

She jumped over holes in the flooring panels, ignored burning sparks and bursts of flame, and pushed past the smoke filling the building. Finally she found herself in a very large room, clearly a hanger bay judging from how it was adorned and designed. The ship sitting in the middle of it all might have been a dead giveaway too.

Checking the windows, she found it unoccupied, the door open, and the key still inside.

Wow, that man was senile.

The ship's doors closed and its lights flickered on. It lifted itself off the ground a few feet, hobbled around, rotated, and sped off into the dark red sky. Fire erupted from the ground all across the horizon, but she would find her way.

Meanwhile, a figure loomed out of the shadows and watched her disappear into the horizon. He spit out blood and teeth that had collected in his mouth.

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