Chapter 16: Wild Heart: Into The Unknown
[Hangar A4, The Ouran, space above Falleen, the Falleen system]
It was a relatively straightforward affair – the six approached Zourvux, Micah, Norcuna and Coleman Kcaj. Bultar turned to her friends before they reached the adults.
"Well, guess this is goodbye for a while…"
"Really? I hadn't noticed," came A'Sharad's drought of a response. He folded his arms, looking between the three. "You'll nail it; all three of you."
"Here's hoping," she replied, "Are… you gonna be okay?"
"Yeah – I got Xiaan and K'Kruhk here after all. Plus, Stass and Agen won't be gone for long – and my master finally feels things are settled enough to come aboard, so she's on her way. Don't worry, I'll be fine!"
"Ready to get going?" asked Zourvux, as the six arrived. She appeared to be cradling a bunch of pretty, delicate red flowers, of all things.
"Yes, Master Reivzx, but… may I ask what the flowers are for?" Stass said, curiously.
"The Falleen delegation; never underestimate how far pleasant gestures and first impressions can get you. Now, Bultar, Micah, you're with me in the left shuttle. Stass, Agen, you're with your masters in the right one. If you'd be so kind?" She turned and marched up the ramp to her shuttle; red cloak swishing after her. Bultar tore her eyes away from the spider image on the back of it to bid her last farewell. For a while, at least.
"Well, goodbye, I guess."
"Goodbye," said K'Kruhk. Without waiting on ceremony, he clamped her tightly into one of his signature wampa hugs. "See you! And have fun!"
In spite of herself, she sniggered.
"Aaaaand now I reek as bad as you. Joy." She nonetheless returned the embrace, before he set her down. Stass was next.
"Well, I'm not hugging you now that you smell like Whiphid," came her smirking farewell. She settled on a simple bro-fist. "See you in however long it takes!"
Then came A'Sharad.
"Don't worry about me; I've got enough people on that already. Keep your head straight and your thoughts clear and I'll be sure to see you soon!"
"I'll have to hold you to that," Bultar said, a small smile playing at her lips as they hugged. Releasing him, she turned to Xiaan.
"Take care," said the Twi'Lek, grinning earnestly. "Don't forget to keep us posted on what life's like on-planet."
"I will; should be… interesting." Bultar too smiled before facing Agen.
He was as blunt as always. A single incline of the head, accompanied by a curt, "See you." Nodding in return, she about-faced, to the boarding ramp. She shot a last glance back again.
"Well, Bultar… here you go…" It was Micah, waiting at the top of the ramp.
"Yep… into the unknown, Master."
And just like that, she was gone. The gangplank sealing behind her as the craft lifted off gracefully and glided from the hangar. Spirited away.
His chest rose and fell evenly. Master Che had given him a thorough examination and declared that he would be fine provided he didn't exert himself much any time soon. His cuts had been cleaned and bandaged; he lay there asleep for now, waiting the only real option.
Salmony, webbed fingers enclosed his, gently massaging the hand. Bulbous, shining eyes watched his sleeping form, monitoring for a change in state. Occasionally, the orbs glanced up to the next bed over to assess the snowy-haired occupant; Bruck was awake, reading and determinedly not looking over towards his neighbour. The large eyes had caught a few stolen glances, nonetheless. A more thorough diagnosis from Caudle had revealed the boy to have extensive bruising through his legs – seemingly the result of a Force-powered slam into the wall. Consequently, he was not to walk for the rest of the day to make sure Caudle's healing wouldn't be ruined.
Turning her attention back to the sleeper, Bant Eerin readjusted her friend's covers a little. Obi-Wan's hair was splayed messily over his pillow, his expression twitching as he slept. He'd been fortunate in that Caudle's search hadn't lasted long. Obi-Wan had been discovered unconscious in one of the training rooms, passed out and a bit of a mess. Like Bruck, most of it had been superficial. That still didn't really help Bant wincing every time she looked at him.
Bant looked up at a clattering – it was Siri, bursting in. She panted heavily, taking in the contents of the room. Bruck's eyes flicked to briefly look at Siri's sudden entry. The blonde took in the immediate sight of Bruck, heavily patched up, then the sleeping Obi-Wan who looked worse. She blanched.
"What the kriff happened? Everyone's talking about some sort of accident!"
"They… had a fight," Bant quietly replied, "The 'accident' story's so Master Solusar doesn't find out; you know how he gets…"
Eyes widening further, Siri rounded on Bruck.
"What did you do to him?!"
"Hey, he chose to get into it!" he snapped back, "Relax, the docs say he'll be fine."
Letting out a breath, Siri sat between the beds, testily. She gently took Obi-Wan's spare hand, holding it between her own pair.
"What happened, then?"
"Got sick of him acting like nothing ever happened. Like he didn't just fuck off for a year. Told him to prove he was as good as he's s'posed to be."
Siri just scowled. Gently, she ran a hand across Obi-Wan's forehead, brushing his hair back from his face. His face settled somewhat as she did so. Satisfied, for now, she leant back in the chair and waited. In the back of her mind, she was more than a little acutely aware that she was supposed to be at the appointment Adi had arranged…
Thought slowly drifted back to Obi-Wan. He could feel a warm… pasty sensation in one hand… and a warm, softness in the other. He also felt like a mess. Slightly better than when he'd come to in Caudle's office last night, then. Still, the feelings in each hand were nice. His eyes drifted open. Before him, the view of Siri Tachi swam into focus. There were certainly worse sights to wake up to- shut up, brain. He then connected the soft warmth in his left hand to the sight of her; she was holding it. That was… nice. Yes, he'd go with 'nice'; 'nice' was safe. Eyes panning right, he saw Bant – the source of the rubbery warmth.
"Obi?" It was Siri speaking. "How d'you feel?" Her visage was awash with a fairly confused mix of concern, relief and irritation.
"Bit better… still hurt a lot, though."
"That's good to hear," chipped in Bant, "Masters Jinn, Che and Caudle know what happened, but otherwise, it's being put round as an accident."
"… I'm… sorry."
"Just… please don't worry us like this again – you gave us more than our fair share not so long ago."
They were interrupted by a hefty clunk.
It was a footfall. A heavy footfall. Looking up, Obi-Wan saw the broad, imposing mass that was Jedi Master Ranik Solusar. He did not look happy – but then he rarely did. He stood framed in the doorway – a short but muscled Rattataki with heavyset facial features, a permanently fierce expression, a reek-style nose ring and flowing, thick, lined tattoos on his face and cranium. He cast a terse, almost judgemental look over the group; his dark eyes finding one of them in particular.
Bruck paled, a remarkable feat after how white he already was.
"An accident." His tone left no doubt whatsoever that he didn't believe it in the slightest. "I am disappointed."
"Uh!" Bruck started, "It's not wh-"
"I have no desire to hear it. Masters Caudle and Che have advised you are to remain at rest to recover. When you are well, come to my quarters so we can discuss things further."
"Bu-"
"Bruck." Master Solusar's firm but vicious gaze was backed up his harsh bark. Bruck hung his head, resignedly. He knew better than to object further.
"Yes, Master."
Without another word, Master Solusar swept out.
Trying – and failing – to hide his taught, almost trembling face behind his datapad, Bruck's pupils kept firmly locked on his reading material. Siri shot him a furtive look.
"You wanna talk about it?"
His reply was a throaty grunt. It was just about recognisable as a 'no'. Still he didn't look at them. It could have been a trick of the light, but Bant could have sworn there was almost a sheen to his eyes…
But surely not…
[Falleen Throne, Falleen]
Light breached Bultar's vision as the ramp descended.
"Alright, my stop," Zourvux merrily called as she began plodding down, arms still cradling the bouquet. "Good luck, Bultar – try not to cause an international incident. Time for me to schmooze some Falleen!"
Awkwardly, Bultar waved after the Jedi Master and incumbent Keeper Of First Knowledge. She caught a brief view of Zourvux beginning to hand out a flower each to the opulent figures awaiting her.
"Good morning! Lovely to make your acquaintance! And one for you too! Such a delight to be greeted by you! This one would look absolutely splendid behind your right ear, if I may suggest? Charmed, char-"
The Mirialan's chatter was cut off as the ramp resealed, the shuttle preparing to lift off again.
"She's always had a way with people," Micah commented. The two of them now alone in the passenger bay, he turned to Bultar, laying a hand on each shoulder. "How are you feeling?" As he spoke, there was a hiss and a dull clank of the ship lifting off again.
"I'll be better once I've landed again, I'm sure. So what's this watchman I'm meeting like?"
"I've only met him once; seemed a nice enough fellow. New, only been a knight for a year or two and Fwacide's Watchman about as long. Kienyr Lethian seemed capable enough when we met. Odd. Amicable, but odd. You'll get along fine. Though if all goes well, you'll hardly ever need to contact him once you're in."
"If you say so." Bultar grimaced, a little distracted by the slight nausea returning from their rapidly climbing altitude. Fuck space travel. It could go die in a hole. And a fire.
[The Teth system, The Wild Space Alliance]
"Coming up on Teth, we'll be down shortly," announced their pilot. Coleman nodded and left the cockpit to tell the others. Predictably, Agen was meditating. Master Norcuna and Stass were reading over case details on their datapads, an analytical furrow on Norcuna's worn, cyan face slowly deepening as he familiarised himself with the security setup.
"We're coming in now, better get ready to move."
The T-6 sunk into the swirled sky of the pretty world. It had long been said that Teth was a natural painting. From orbit, this was plain to see and hard to doubt, with its gorgeous, marbled pinks, whites, greens and beiges. They broke past the cloud cover, revealing a thick, dark jungle beneath. Teth's famous mesas – more of rock pillars than anything else – poked up above the canopy, reaching high and towering into the sky. Some even reached kilometres. A mild, early morning mist hung over the whole sight, catching the sleepy sunlight and casting a rainbow haze.
The capital city was easily the most distinguishing feature, clear to see as the ship swept in. Tethese stood proudly high above the thick foliage. It was quite a sight, a series of tall, stone block urbanisations atop the mesas, but also running deep into them – lights glittering out from the cylindrical rock face. The sprawling array was connected via multitudes of light-bridges. They webbed between the stacks, their light peeking out a soft turquoise.
Drifting down to a hewn hangar in one of the taller columns, the shuttle swung its dorsal horizontal and set down. Waiting for them was a small party of soldiers dressed in khaki uniforms with green breastplates, backpacks, leather boots, matching gloves and short-visored hats. All neatly tucked and display ready. They were led by a short but stern-looking man in a beret. He had a rather pulled, taught face with beady little eyes watching them disembark and approach. He was also uniformed, albeit in an all-fawn version with three silver slightly curved dagger silhouettes emblazoned over the left pectoral.
"Master Jedi. Padawans," he began, no sooner than they had arrived. "Primary Colonel Lio Doćo, House Shaza. I would welcome you to the Sovereign Realm Of Imperial Teth." He rigidly clamped his left fist to the opposite shoulder, prompting his men to just as rigidly step into a single line and salute, some kind of carbine rested in the crook of their at-rest arms.
"Bet this guy gets catharsis out of keeping his datapads arranged straight," Stass muttered to Agen. She got no response, nor had she expected to – Agen was in work mode.
"A pleasure to be received by you," replied Norcuna, with all the enthusiasm of a desiccated rodent carcass. Even Agen raised an eyebrow at that. "What is the current situation?"
"Five standard days ago, suspicious data transmissions were detected broadcast from within secure weapons testing facility nine," Doćo began, "After brief investigation, I elected to request Jedi assistance, in the absence of headway and given the urgent and sensitive nature of the situation. These." The soldiers behind him did an odd thing, a sort of snap, with their legs and dropped their salutes, stepping forward as one. "Are my finest special operations commandos. My 'elites' if you like. I have personally screened and vetted these six myself. They are above suspicion and will remain at your absolute disposal, along with myself, for the duration of the investigation. Expert combatants and slicers alike. We are the pinnacle of what House Shaza has to offer. All other known information has been provided to you already. If you wish, we can show you the compromised facility first-hand."
"Ah, yes, we were hoping for such a look," Coleman jovially put in, "would you be so kind?"
"Certainly, sir. If you will follow? It is not far, but it is on lockdown, so there will be searches and checks performed."
"Of course."
"And here it is. The experimental Golan Arms CR-1 Blast Cannon." Doćo concluded. The security had been no joke. Three checkpoints of full body scans and extensive documentation checks, ensuring they indeed were who they said they were and weren't packing any infiltration tools. And that was on top of about a dozen code and pass-card secured blast doors. The Jedi had been required to surrender their lightsabers into secure storage – though Doćo had assured them that this would only be the case for the first visit. Stass's garrotte wire had also been confiscated.
All this for what seemed to be just another shotgun. What, did it come with its own AI or something?
It seemed unassuming enough, a drum fed contraption with a stock. The thing was shortish and with a stubby bullet-shaped nose inset with four barrels, a scope of some sort and more than a few side vents. It certainly looked like a prototype though – wired could be seen peeking out of openings and it had a fairly skeletal appearance at present.
"So, may I ask what is so special about this prototype that requires such security?" Norcuna asked curiously.
"I am afraid you are not cleared to be granted a detailed description," Doćo said, stiffly. "I can, however, tell you that the blast spread can punch right through up to an inch of plasarmour at the maximum effective range."
Stass's eyebrows raised at that, as did Norcuna's brow.
"A handheld blaster cannon? I see. That would explain all this. Very well, let us turn to the information at hand." Folding his hands together, thinking. "This operation is extremely tight-knit, so a spy or turncoat is the most likely place to start. Either way, if they want to get anything off world, they will need to go through the local criminal underworld. I believe Black Sun is the foremost power on Teth, correct?"
Doćo nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Well then, I think it time I dusted off an old informant or two I have in the area. It'll take time to contact them, however. So for today, I think a read over of the known information would be good."
"Right, time for grub!"
It was early evening now and Stass was hungry. She and Agen had gone out to a local commercial district, looking for a small sort of eatery. It hadn't taken long to find a quiet, small place and now they sat with two boxes of local food. And what appeared to be a pair of sticks each.
"Ah." It now occurred to Stass that she'd never used chopsticks before. "Well, I'm sure they'll be fine to use."
She took them up in her hand, awkwardly clasping a morsel in them. She lifted it up… at which point it flopped out from between the sticks and back into the box. Frowning she tried again, pinching another piece and lifting… only for it to drop again. Now slightly irritated, her third attempt went about as well. Fuming, she growled. Several more tries later and she was at her wit's end.
"Chopsticks are evil."
"They're not so bad," responded Agen, who was having no trouble at all, eating away in a perfectly dignified manner.
"They are a sin against humanity!"
His only further reply was to tap one of his decidedly non-human horns with the top of one of the sticks, before continuing to feed. A minor upturn of the lips might just have been visible on him. After about another minute of Stass getting more and more exasperated, he finally took pity on her.
"Here."
He held out a fork to her in his unoccupied hand.
"YOU HAD THAT THE WHOLE TIME?!"
"Did you see me get up?"
"I hate you." She added a pout for good measure.
"Well if you don't want it-"
She snatched it before he could even finish.
"Thanks," she grumbled out before finally tucking in.
[Training decks, The Ouran]
"Flimsy grip on your blade."
The clash of blades. Red on purple. Sparks danced as they broke apart. In but a moment, they connected again. Bruck held the red, Master Solusar the violet. Master Solusar was winning, as usual. Or to be more exact, he was positively demolishing Bruck. Swing after powerful swing fell, pushing Bruck back as he fought to avoid stumbling and keep up. Master Solusar kept up a running commentary all through the duel.
"Guard! Keep it up!"
"Focus! Are you a duelist or a bystander?!"
"I am not impressed."
"You are supposed to be fighting to win."
"That was pathetic!"
In very short order, Bruck was right at the edge of the mat.
"Careless, inelegant, sloppy!" With an almost-roar, the next crushing blow ripped Bruck's weapon from his grip, crashing it hard into the soft training surface. Caught off balance, Bruck staggered back, tumbling off onto the hard floor. "At this rate, you will never amount to anything, much less become a Jedi."
Discharging his weapon, Master Solusar summoned his traditional outer skirting, donning it with a flurry of swishing cloth. Without so much as a backwards glance, he strode straight out of the small sparring room.
Panting hard, Bruck lay there for a moment, before his stamina recovered. Heaving, he rolled over onto all fours, alabaster hair plastered to his dripping sweaty face. There was now more colour to his skin than anyone had ever seen, crimson with exertion and humiliation. Hacking up a strained, spluttering choke, he slammed a fist down into the mat.
A tear fell. It gave a miniscule thud as it hit the soft mat. Then another. And another. A dam burst.
Choking sobs racked out from Bruck, wet tears dropping. He keeled over, curling up in a heap, shaking and crying.
"Aeris? What the- STOP!" Suddenly, the woman paused mid-throttle. Turning her head, she saw, at the end of the hall, the father. And he was frozen in a mixture of shock and betrayal. Her face quickly broke into a hasty and patchy smile – an attempt at warmth.
"Ah. Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Uehara, dear. I was just-"
"DON'T! GET AWAY FROM STASS!"
In a blur of motion, he closed the distance and Aeris was shunted unceremoniously off of her daughter.
"Rika! Get Stass out of here!" Uehara yelled, putting himself between Aeris and Stass in the same motion.
"NO!" Aeris lashed out, catching him in the face and almost diving over him. Almost. One of his strong arms locked around hers and she tumbled into a heap with him.
A second later, the girl felt herself pulled away from the parental melee, suddenly in the arms of a short, masked woman in grey. Vainly, Aeris could only call out after her as Rika ran at full pelt, carrying Stass away.
"NO! STOP! RIKA! GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! THAT'S-" she was silenced by Uehara's full weight crushing her into the floor.
As Rika rounded the corner and ducked into a servant's passage, Aeris's screeching voice started to dwindle from earshot. As she ran, Rika spoke clearly into her throat comlink.
"Code Delta! Package Indigo secure and in custody – Principal under threat in sector three. Prepare the holdout. Aggressor is subject Sapphire."
Almost at once, alarms sounded across the building. Running footsteps and squawks of reports erupted over the comms.
Rika carried the child further and further, away from the wailing. Stass shook in the retainer's arms with each successive call from her mother. Rika did not let up for a moment however, darting and weaving through the back passages and finally emerging back into an actual guest area – but on the other side of the estate. Crossing to a door bearing the Yellow on black clan symbol of Clan Angra – a permitted false front set up by the friendly clan, she nodded to the two guards and entered. It was a small room, with no windows and a small amount of cushy furniture.
Rika set her young charge down on a settee and peered into her eyes closely.
"Are you alright?"
A noncommittal nod, the young Stass was still shaking.
Rika took a deep breath and sighed, trying to process everything.
"Okay. I need to give you a quick inspection, just to make sure you didn't get hurt without realising, okay?"
A start. A frantic headshake.
"… Why not?"
No reply.
"… Stass, please. I need to check you!"
An even more fervent shake of the head.
Grimacing, Rika let loose a groan. She wasn't going to enjoy this.
"Please don't make this difficult!" She reached a hand out to the hem of the child's dress.
Stass did not take it well, trying in vain to hold off the grown woman – completely uselessly. With delicate care to not harm her, Rika slowly pressed on, overpowering the silent girl and cautiously pulling open the top of the dress.
It finally came fully open.
Rika went chalk white.
[Tethese]
Agen's eyes flew open at the scream. In both of their rooms, Coleman and Norcuna's eyes did much the same.
Without wasting a moment, they all were up and tearing out of their respective rooms, converging on the source. Agen almost flew into Stass's room, scooping up the rigid girl. She was locked in sleep, crying out and stiff as a board, every muscle clenched. He hurriedly shook her, but she didn't wake. Not good.
He rocked her gently, hoping for something, anything. But nothing.
"Stass? STASS?"
A bony hand rested on her forehead – Coleman. His wide eyes even more so than usual, practically bugging out of his head in alarm. Closing his eyes, he reached out, trying to soothe through their connection.
After a few, tense seconds, she began to stir – her cries diminishing to a dull moan. Finally, she let out a dull mumble.
"Wh- w'ppn'd?"
Her indigo eyes flickered open, gazing up blearily at Agen and Coleman.
A collective breath let loose.
"Ranik."
Master Solusar looked up from the paperwork he had been filling out on his datapad. It was Sifo-Dyas. The wiry, brown-haired, charismatic man and lifelong friend was standing at his office door. He didn't look happy.
"Yes?" Master Solusar replied, evenly.
"We need to talk."