Ashes of Time

by FallenAscendant

The Jedi took his life away, the Sith forced him into another but it was the Empire that gave him purpose. Glailen Reichscher learned that the galaxy is a place of many threats and little mercy. Now he's resolved to become the deadliest of those threats and never be at the mercy of another ever again. But would he live long enough for it to make a difference?

5. Chapter Four: To be Sith

Chapter Four: To be Sith

It was dark when Glailen reached the Sith Academy. He didn't have trouble finding his way though, there were many lights around the academy, but he did have to be cautious when approaching the guards. With all of the aggressive wildlife on the planet, they were likely to shoot first at something that moved too fast for their liking. Their sensors must have picked him up because they had their rifles trained in his direction even though they wouldn't have been able to see him yet. When he was a few meters from the light one of the troopers stepped forth.

"Identify yourself!" they called out.

"Acolyte Reichscher." The trooper held out a hand and Glailen paused, spreading his hands wide to indicate he was not a threat. He waited patiently as the lead trooper communicated via the comms in their helmet with someone. After a moment the trooper waved him forward.

"Approach slowly." The blasters remained on Glailen until he stepped fully into the light, then suddenly the tension dissipated.

"Alright, you're clear, sir." Nodding, the acolyte lowered his hands to his side and walked normally.

"Sorry but we have to be careful – even here – and most acolytes either get back before nightfall or wait until morning. Gets a bit too cold to be wandering in the dark."

"I understand but I'm on something of a strict timetable," Glailen responded but did not stop in his approach. He nodded to the troopers as he passed them.

"Well, don't let me keep you, sir."

Glailen barely heard the last comment. All he wanted at the moment was to return to Darth Baras as soon as possible. The Darth struck Glailen as someone whose opinion of another decreased dramatically the longer he was kept waiting. Besides that, he knew Vemrin had almost certainly arrived ahead of him and shortening the gap between their arrivals was likely to increase Baras' opinion slightly. Baras had mentioned Vemrin working against stacked odds and now he seemed intent on testing Glailen similarly. Just when he was getting Tremel to believe he was capable he was now in a position where he had to convince someone else.

And that all started with Tremel dying by my hand.

Glailen thought back to the encounter. He knew there had been more to it than Baras simply removing an irritation. It was also a warning to Glailen himself; if he stepped out of line then he wouldn't get the opportunity to disappoint another. Tremel had warned against Baras' actions having many layers and it had been wise. Glailen was still an acolyte and he still considered himself in need of training but Tremel himself had offered nothing except that warning. The fact that said warning may well be the most important thing Glailen takes away from his time on Korriban was not lost on him. First, however, he had to secure the apprenticeship to Darth Baras. It was highly unlikely the Darth would leave any other avenue open to the acolyte. If he wasn't under the guidance and control of Baras then he would never be Sith. With all of that in mind, Glailen sensed the final stage of his trials was close at hand. He couldn't waver now.

Glailen had just entered the main hall when he noticed the familiar chassis of Y-5O3. An instant later the droid turned to him.

"Acolyte Reichscher, good to see you have returned so soon. I hope you remembered to stay hydrated out there?"

If nothing else, thought Glailen, at least I don't have to feel threatened from you.

"Yes, thank you, I managed to keep to a strict schedule but, as you said, I wasn't out long."

"Quite right," chimed Y-5O3. Glailen nodded a couple of times as he fumbled with how to proceed. It was silly, he knew, but he nevertheless found it difficult to ask the droid for help.

"Are you busy at the moment?"

"Not at this time, no. Is there some way I can assist you?" The tone the droid used gave the perfect sense of eager to help without being overbearing which helped to ease Glailen's mind. He unslung his pack and pulled out the shards from the tomb; the bag he held out to Y-5O3.

"I believe I won't remain at the academy for very long. Would you be able to resupply my pack for another extended leave?" Without hesitation the droid took the pack and held it close as though it were precious cargo.

"Of course, I shall have it ready for you shortly."

"Excellent. Can you bring it to Darth Baras' chambers when ready?" Suddenly Y-5O3's optics whirred in what Glailen could only describe as uncertainty or confusion. The slightest tilt in the droid's head only added to the appearance.

"Where else would I bring it?"

The two stared at each other for a long moment as Glailen struggled with a response. In the end he had to yield.

"Hm. Nevermind."

Considering the matter settled, both droid and acolyte went their separate ways. As far as tasks went, Glailen almost felt jealous of the droid but he quickly clamped down on that feeling. If he wanted to be Sith – and he did – then he had to accept what hardships and unpleasantness were required. He kept reminding himself of that as he came to the chambers of Darth Baras. He stopped just inside the door, waiting to be addressed. As expected, Vemrin was already there looking very satisfied as Baras spoke with him. Also expected was the fact no other acolytes had returned. Until now. That featureless mask turned to regard Glailen and there was the slightest sense of amusement from the dark lord. Vemrin, noting Baras' distraction, turned to find Glailen and his expression darkened. Had that look been directed at a full Sith it would have meant Vemrin's life. With Glailen it was merely par the course.

"The prodigal supplicant returns," commented Baras, gesturing for Glailen to come closer. The Darth turned his attention to the third man in the room.

"It would seem your hopes have been dashed, Vemrin."

"Appearances can be deceiving," growled the acolyte in response.

"Forgive Vemrin, acolyte, he was expecting you to fail miserably. If you are here, however, that means you didn't fail because, after all, it would be unwise to stand before me otherwise." The ominous warning in those words was not lost on Glailen even though that mask did not turn towards him. But, of course, he hadn't failed.

"Agreed, which is why I do not come empty handed, Master." He shifted the shards held under his arm to draw attention to them. Suddenly they flew out from where he held them but Glailen was unperturbed. He recognized the Force at work as the pieces floated over to Baras a moment before continuing to rest on his desk.

"Excellent." As he spoke, the Darth turned to face Glailen with hands clasped behind his back. A second later the mask slid back to Vemrin and Glailen felt his heart quicken.

"Only one of you can become my apprentice. For some time, I thought that would be you, Vemrin," Baras' gaze suddenly shifted to Glailen with a blunt casualness, "but I've changed my mind." Glailen exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he was holding in as Vemrin gaped his own disbelief.

"What? I've done – I'm better than any other acolyte at this academy!" Sensing weakness in his rival, Glailen decided to further disrupt his concentration by twisting the knife.

"Ignore Vemrin, Master, he's starting to recognize the world crumbling around him." The cornered acolyte rounded on Glailen with a snarl.

"I will not be ignored. Certainly not by some nobody who has had everything handed to him!"

"Allow me to explain something to you, Master, I have come to understand that Vemrin is a fool." Glailen refused to look at the other acolyte, giving an indication that he was beneath notice. That didn't stop a twisted grin from spreading across Vemrin's face.

"Not foolish enough to get caught for murder." It was not an unexpected retort. Glailen did not rise to it – nor give in to the urge to cover his facial tattoo – but he would respond.

"A good thing – the overseers would have broken you."

"The tension between the two of you is immense," Baras cut in with a chuckle, "a great source of energy to feed on. When it all boils over…who knows what will happen?" The two acolytes fell silent and gave the Darth their full attention. Hands clasped behind his back, Baras studied them for a time before giving a slight nod, apparently coming to a conclusion.

"As things stand the two of you are very nearly equals but I sense a lingering power in you, Acolyte Glailen. It has made my decision easy." Pride swelled in Glailen, which came as a surprise to him, but he was interested in what the Sith lord had to say. Could he really sense something hidden in the acolyte? Vemrin, for his part, was about to argue his case further but then the mask turned to him fully. Anything he had been about to say died quickly on his tongue.

"Go, Vemrin, you have your instructions." Baras' tone left no room for further discussion. As Vemrin turned to leave he directed a final murderous stare at the other acolyte. Glailen let it roll over him without concern. Footsteps retreated from the room and eventually there could be heard the sound of a door opening momentarily before shutting again. Baras allowed the silence to stretch on. Glailen wondered how long it would take for him to grow used to the dark lord's presence.

"While I have placed my faith in you, acolyte, Vemrin still has a chance of succeeding. The final trial consists of retrieving a lightsaber from a hidden vault in the tomb of Naga Sadow. Whoever gets it first will become Sith and my new apprentice." Anxiety and excitement danced in Glailen's mind; Vemrin was no doubt already on his way giving him yet another lead but the prospect of obtaining a lightsaber to call his own made Glailen extra eager to begin. At his side he still felt the absence of weight where he had placed Tremel's lightsaber for only a short time before Baras took it. He didn't begrudge Baras taking what the acolyte hadn't earned but that didn't mean he didn't miss it. Now he could truly earn it.

"I am ready, my Master."

"Are you now?" Baras turned away as he spoke, going over to sit at the chair behind his desk. The question was very nearly an accusation but Glailen did not offer a retort. He had no reason to defend himself. After everything that had come and with all that still needed to, he knew he was ready. When the Darth had settled himself, he continued.

"The vault in question can only be entered by secret means and few Sith have been able to discern the path. But there is a twi'lek who managed to do so; she's rotting in the prison cells as we speak. I offered her to Vemrin to use her experience as he saw fit but he claimed he didn't need the assistance of any sub-human species." There was some amusement in Baras' tone as he spoke, which Glailen wondered at. Tremel's warnings came to mind; Vemrin was allowing his pride to distract him from making calculated decisions. Darth Baras was not simply interested in acquiring a fighter but also one capable of strategically utilizing available resources. This was important to keep in mind.

"Unless he has gone back on his word," continued Baras, "then the twi'lek will still be in her cage. I give you the same offer. Jailer Knash is under orders to release the twi'lek to either of you."

"Thank you, Master," said Glailen with a slight nod of gratitude.

"I hope you understand what you fight for, acolyte. If you become my apprentice, the galaxy will bow before you." It felt like a long time that Glailen stared at that impassive mask, trying to discern the designs of the man behind it. The smart thing would be to just accept the Darth's words and be grateful for the opportunity but he couldn't. The statement didn't quite sit right with him as he stood straighter and cleared his throat.

"The galaxy will bow to the Empire." Baras' head tilted to the side slightly as though he were examining an oddity but it lasted only a second. A wave of his hand indicated a dismissal.

"Indeed. Go."

Happy to oblige, Glailen bowed low before turning and leaving the room in a hurry. Vemrin had a head start but it was marginal, easily eliminated. He could retrieve his backpack and be on his way well within the hour at which point he wouldn't be worried with catching up. Except his mind returned to the discussion of the twi'lek and unconsciously his pace slowed. If he were being honest with himself, he wasn't fond of the idea of taking on some help. It would be dangerous out there as Glailen had already learned several times and keeping someone else alive as well as himself would be more than challenging. Taking the twi'lek would likely prove a hindrance. Although, if Baras was to be believed, the twi'lek would make entering the room with the lightsaber much easier. Then there was Baras himself whom Glailen sensed was clearly interested in seeing which, if either, of his potential apprentices could properly use the tools at their disposal. Did the benefits outweigh the risks? Glailen hoped so.

At that moment Glailen noticed he was coming upon an overseer crouched down in front of a mess in the middle of the hallway. Scattered pieces of metal could be seen though most was concentrated where the overseer was. As he approached, Glailen could make out that the pieces had formed a droid not long ago – a protocol droid most likely. The overseer didn't acknowledge Glailen's presence as the acolyte drew closer on his left side.

"No respect for the academy," muttered the overseer in angered tones, "can't even read the ID number." Glialen glanced at the overseer as he spoke and then scanned the debris, coming to the same conclusion. Whoever had torn into the droid had done so in a fury that left little recognizable.

Something caught Glailen's eye on the other side of the hall and he walked around the overseer to reach it. As he stopped in front of it, he felt his pulse quickening. Trembling fingers reached down to grab the strap of the backpack. He turned towards the overseer but his attention was captured by a single optic sensor propped up on the floor. It seemed to be staring at him.

It was just a droid, Glailen thought.

It was just a droid.

That didn't seem to matter.

"What are you doing, acolyte?" demanded the overseer. Glailen licked his dry lips before speaking.

"This is my pack. The droid's identification number is Y-5O3." Opening the pack, Glailen checked its contents; it was well stocked. The overseer studied him for a time, perhaps expecting more.

"Do you know who did this?" he asked, the suspicion evident in his voice. The acolyte hesitated a moment then met the other man's stare.

"No, Overseer." A few seconds passed then Glailen turned around and walked away as casually as he could. He remained tense, waiting for the overseer to call after him, until he moved around a corner. Then he increased his pace until he was nearly running down the halls.

He moved with purpose fueled by anger. There was a fire inside that he continued to fan the more he thought about what remained of Y-5O3 – the more he imagined how the droid had been reduced to scrap. Of course, he knew he shouldn't, feeding on his emotion was one thing but this was not the time to be losing focus. The best way he could avenge Y-5O3 was by succeeding in retrieving the lightsaber and becoming Darth Baras' new apprentice. He knew this and yet it didn't really matter. Right now, all he wanted was to get his hands on one man.

That man came into view as Glailen entered the main hall. Vemrin was apparently on his way out of the academy when he stopped as Glailen entered the room. He turned to face the raging acolyte, sensing the hostile intent. Glailen didn't pause when he walked into the hall. He didn't hesitate when Vemrin looked directly at him. Filled with a resolute fury, he walked right up to Vemrin and only stopped when their feet were nearly touching. This close Glailen could make out the finer details of the other man's facial scars but it was his eyes he focused on. Vemrin didn't smile but his eyes held a gleam of satisfaction. He glanced casually at the pack Glailen held in a vice-like grip in his right hand. An eyebrow rose ever so slightly as he returned to regarding the seething acolyte. At his side, Glailen's left hand kept clenching into a fist and unclenching with an eagerness to wrap around Vemrin's neck. When Glailen spoke, the effort he was putting into restraining himself was clear.

"I was fond of that droid." His voice was so low it might as well have been a whisper. Vemrin didn't flinch.

"I was fond of Dolgis."

"Don't lie to me," Glailen's hand cut through the air in a silencing gesture, "if he got in your way you would have killed him. Just like the acolytes in the tomb." Vemrin shook his head mockingly.

"Look me in the eye and tell me you didn't draw blood in that place."

"Not as much as I was hoping," replied Glailen as he barred his teeth. He was feeling something and he understood it well for he had felt it before. It was the same eager anticipation he had felt just before fighting Dolgis.

"Acolytes! Is there a problem here?" Like waking from a dream, the tension between the two acolytes faded as the inquiring overseer drew closer. Still, neither man spoke or broke eye contact for some time and it almost seemed the overseer was unsure of what to think. Finally, Vemrin looked aside at the overseer.

"No, Overseer, none at all." His tone said he didn't have a care in the world. As he turned and continued his walk to the academy entrance, he radiated a sense of victory. Glailen didn't watch him go, he was afraid of what he would do if he did.

After a couple of moments to control his breathing, the remaining acolyte lurched into motion, ignoring the overseer completely as he made his way towards the holding cells. Everything seemed not worth noticing as Glailen walked through the halls and passed by other occupants of the academy. He was focused on his mission and focused on getting his hands on Vemrin. Perhaps the twi'lek would prove a liability but if she could get him inside the vault so he could get the lightsaber then that would be enough. There was no way Vemrin could be allowed to win this contest. So focused was Glailen that he almost didn't notice he had reached his destination, stopping abruptly and looking around. The room and the cells in it were mostly empty save for Knash standing in front of the one occupied cell. He was holding something up to the twi'lek and speaking in low frustrated tones. Glailen opened his mouth to demand the jailer's attention but stopped and took a deep breath. Despite his mood and the hurry he was in, he wouldn't forget himself. When he did speak it was in a firm but respectful manner.

"Excuse me, Jailer." Upon realizing someone else was present, Knash whipped around in surprise but quickly relaxed, recognizing who it was.

"Ah, it's you again. Darth Baras said I should expect you or Vemrin to stop by. I hear it's down to the two of you for who will become Baras' new apprentice. Not bad work if you can get it." As the jailer spoke, Glailen studied the twi'lek. She was a blue-skinned member of her species; physically she was on the small side, certainly not intimidating, but carried herself with a strong sense of confidence or belonging. Given her current situation, that meant she was either completely ignorant of the galaxy around her or she was at peace with herself. Deciphering which was true was more interesting to the acolyte than going back to talking about how lucky he was to have the eye of Darth Baras.

"Yes, so I'm told." Knash cocked an eyebrow at Glailen's noncommittal comment but quickly turned his attention to the caged twi'lek with a wave of his hand.

"And I'm told you're taking this twi'lek off my hands. I warn you though, she's a pain in the neck." There was a mix of relief and amusement in Knash's words. In response the twi'lek in question folded her arms and glared at the jailer.

"Pain in the neck? Only one of us is wearing a shock collar around here." Knash jabbed a finger in the twi'lek's direction with a grin.

"And don't be forgetting it – not that you could since it's not coming off." The twi'lek glowered but offered nothing in response as the jailer returned his attention to Glailen. He held out what Glailen presumed to be the remote for the shock collar.

"Here, if she's not cooperating – or if you're bored – use this." Glailen considered the device for a moment before taking and placing it in one of his back pockets.

"So, wait," the twi'lek cut in with a tone of suspicion, "where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere you're familiar with. The tomb you were captured in." Again, that grin from Knash as he spoke. Glailen wasn't sure if the jailer was happier to be rid of the twi'lek or that she was going somewhere dangerous. The twi'lek ignored the jailer's amusement as she looked first at Glailen, then at Knash and then back to Glailen.

"None of you can figure out how to get in the secret places, can you? There's some important business you have in there, huh?"

"Yes," answered Glailen, "and I would appreciate your assistance." Knash directed an exasperated look at the acolyte.

"Don't bother being pleasant, she's got no love for any of us."

"Should I?" asked the twi'lek in an almost sweet tone.

"I suppose not but you would do well to remember what happens when you're difficult." To emphasize his words, Knash tapped the side of his neck where, on the twi'lek, the shock collar would be. She glanced briefly at Glailen as she shifted her feet. For the first time Glailen felt a spark of fear from her. It took him a moment to understand why. No matter how difficult Knash had been to her, some grumpy jailer couldn't compare to a Sith in cruelty – at least that was the narrative of the Empire and galaxy at large. In most cases she would be right, Glailen admitted.

"Least I get to stretch my legs, I guess," said the twi'lek more to herself than anyone else. Apparently satisfied, Knash pulled out his holopad and punched in a couple of commands. The cage door swung open and, with the briefest hesitation, the twi'lek dashed through as though the door would close any second. She looked back at what had been her prison for Glailen didn't know how long but then turned a hard stare on the acolyte. The fear Glailen had sensed earlier was gone, replaced by determination.

"Just so we're clear, I'm officially on strike when it comes to domestic duties." Glailen appraised the twi'lek anew. She showed great courage to take such a tone with a Sith – or at least what she thought to be Sith – and she no doubt understood that. There was no fear in her but she was certainly anxious.

"I assure you I won't need a maid," Glailen reassured her. She gave him a suspicious look, not fully trusting what he had to say, which he couldn't really blame her for. Eventually she nodded, seeing nothing to be done but to believe him for the time being.

"Well, guess this can't be all bad then." With that settled, Glailen moved things along. They had to get going soon.

"Did you have any weapons with you?" he asked and that caught the twi'lek off guard.

"Uh, yeah, couple of blasters," she said uncertainly. Knash appeared even more surprised than she was though that didn't really shock Glailen.

"What, you want to arm her?" the jailer asked incredulously.

"I'm not going somewhere safe. The better she can protect herself the less I have to watch out for her." Knash chewed on that for a moment and Glailen was content to let him come to terms with it. He hoped he wouldn't have to argue the point further.

"Hrm, fair enough," agreed the jailer however reluctantly. He left the room, apparently to get the twi'lek's things. Glailen felt the twi'lek's eyes on him, studying this anomaly before her, but he kept his eyes on the doorway Knash would return through. It wasn't long before Knash came back with a pair of worn-down blasters. They didn't look like much but the twi'lek quickly took them from the jailer and began looking them over intently, searching for any detail out of place. Glailen could understand that. When you have so little, a little is everything. When she was done with her inspection, she cast a casual look at Knash.

"What about my commlink?" At the seemingly innocent question, Knash stuck his hands on his hips with a knowing grin.

"Why would you need that? You're being let out to do a job so you need to be focused on that." Despite the unnecessary enjoyment Knash was getting out of the situation, Glailen had to side with him. There was too much Glailen didn't know about the twi'lek and he certainly wasn't sure he could trust her. Letting her have her commlink with which she could contact anyone would be a foolish risk. The twi'lek wasn't amused however as she openly glared at Knash. That only brought a laugh from the jailer as he looked at Glailen.

"Hmph, good luck." The comment was dripping with sarcasm but Glailen chose to ignore it. He had far more important things to concern himself with.

"Thank you," he said before focusing on the twi'lek.

"We need to get moving, we're on a time sensitive schedule." Glailen watched the twi'lek as she placed her weapons at her hips. Outwardly she was calm and unhurried, the complete opposite of how Glailen felt inside. He forced himself to remain patient. With her blasters holstered, the twi'lek waved a hand at the acolyte.

"Lead the way, boss." Lead he did as Glailen turned and left the room without another word or glance back. As he proceeded through the halls, he kept his mind focused on what lay ahead. Now was not the time for distraction or hesitation.

---

It would be a blatant lie if Vette were to say she wasn't just a little bit unnerved as she walked through the Sith Academy. What bothered her wasn't the spooky lights or feeling of impending pain, it was the eyes of everyone around her and the thoughts that may have been behind those eyes. Those eyes, more often than not, fell under two categories; complete loathing disgust or the same indifference one might have when ignoring a beggar on a street corner. And what were those people thinking? That she was worthless or stupid or any number of other things and all because she wasn't human…or Sith. Of course, with her ragged clothes, the shock collar and consideration to the planet she was on; that all was to be expected. It wasn't right but only a fool would be surprised by it and she'd been on enough Imperial worlds to know what to expect. What made things worse though, as she looked at the back of the baby-Sith she was now somehow helping, was that it looked like she was indeed subservient to the Sith as she trailed in the wake of one.

It wasn't her intention to wander behind him, he was just walking too fast. His legs were longer but it wasn't even that – he was clearly a man with a goal in mind and that goal left little room for any other thought in his head. Short of breaking into a run, she couldn't shorten the distance between them. It would be another lie – but one Vette was less interested in making – if she were to say she wasn't more than a little irritated. Her jaws clenched together as Vette's eyes remained trained on the baby-Sith. Too absorbed in his own world – disinclined to acknowledge little ol' me just because I have lekku instead of prickly hair on my head. But she had to follow him, like a powerwrench she had been let out of her case and handed out to someone so they could do a job. And if I don't? Well, he can use that remote in his pocket to activate this damned shock collar. In the cage Vette had been daring enough to tempt Yash into shocking her occasionally but a Sith – even a baby-Sith – was another matter entirely. After all, Sith were by nature not pleasant. The opposite of pleasant, in fact.

But they bleed like anyone else.

No sooner had the thought popped into Vette's mind than did a plan formulate itself before her eyes. When they were far enough from the academy, alone, she could plant a couple of blaster bolts in the guy's back since he was too distracted to pay her any mind. Then she could get the remote to remove the collar and then bide her time until she found a way off-world. It would be risky, absolutely, but there was no way she was going to be locked up again and forced to wait to either be executed or sold into slavery. She had to risk it.

Then he looked back at her. He didn't turn his head all the way but one eye found her and that was enough to get her attention. Vette swallowed hard without meaning to as she stared back. Had she screwed up already just by thinking about maybe possibly shooting him in the back? It was possible, she conceded. There wasn't much she knew about the Force but from what she understood it made things completely unfair for normal people like her, strictly speaking. He seemed to keep staring forever and Vette soon found she just wished he would do something; yell at her, use the shock collar, something freaky with the Force. What do you want, freak!

"My name is Glailen, by the way." Vette blinked as her mind processed the statement. That had not been on the list.

"Vette," she replied only somewhat hesitantly. He simply nodded and looked away. His pace also slowed to the point where Vette was no longer struggling to keep up. She was practically walking beside him now. Feeling awkward and not entirely sure why, Vette decided to see how talkative the baby-Sith – Glailen – could be.

"So, what are we after anyway?"

"A lightsaber," he responded curtly but which only left Vette confused.

"Can't you guys make those?"

"This is part of my trials to prove I am worthy of being Sith. I have to get the lightsaber before another acolyte or I fail and am as good as dead." Vette stared at the man but, even though she was pretty sure he could see her looking, he didn't turn his head towards her. Well, that clears things up, I guess.

"Delightful." Glailen said nothing to Vette's sarcastic comment which kind of disappointed her but also came as a relief. So far, the general response from everybody else on the planet was to threaten to shock her. To find someone who didn't have an itchy trigger finger was encouraging. Then again, thought Vette, it could be he's too focused on this trial of his to care. He makes intense look apathetic.

No longer interested in talking, Vette decided to follow Glailen's lead and keep her eyes straight. It helped her ignore all the uncomfortable things around her but she doubted that was why Glailen did it. Before long they exited the academy and were staring out at the dangerous yet oddly beautiful Korriban landscape. Glailen paused before descending the stairs.

"Do you know which way to go?" It took a moment for Vette to realize the question was directed at her.

"You don't even know where the tomb is?" she asked in return, unable to hide her surprise. Glailen glanced at her briefly before looking away.

"I'm still new to Korriban; haven't really had time to learn even the general area." Vette considered the explanation. A baby-Sith indeed but it sounds like they expect you to learn how to walk on your own and real quick around here.

"If you don't know," continued Glailen when Vette was silent for too long, "I'll just ask one of the garrison members." He was just about to take a step forward when fear gripped Vette, prompting her to jump in front of the acolyte. There was an instant where he visibly tensed and Vette braced for…something but the tension was gone as quick as it had come. Hiding her nervousness with an extravagant wave of her hand, Vette pointed towards where she knew the tomb to be.

"No need, I've got a pretty good idea of where to go from here." There was a chance, as Vette saw it, that if Glailen started thinking her less useful he would become less pleasant to be around. But is he actually pleasant though? Vette gave it a moment's thought before compromising. He's certainly been better than anyone else on this rock.

"It's smart to keep track of where you're going, you know? So, when I got nabbed, I kept my eyes open," said Vette absentmindedly as she took the lead.

"That is smart thinking, you're correct." At the comment, Vette gave a quick glance back. Was that a compliment or an allowance of competence? Vette decided Glailen would get half marks for that one.

They walked on for hours, soon losing sight of the academy and being left with the red scenery of Korriban. Before long Vette almost missed the academy, even with the speciesist surroundings. The people may not have been her first choice but being separated from some form of civilization had a way of souring Vette's mood. It wasn't anything major, she just didn't like being alone – or feeling alone – and walking for a while without seeing another living creature had a lonely feel to it. Sure, there was the odd old dusty architecture but that only served to make Vette feel more alone.

Of course, she wasn't alone. A Sith followed in her footsteps silently. That was the keyword though; he was silent, never saying a word. Too easy to ignore and forget. Hardly stimulating company. At the same time, it was hard for Vette to break the silence and it became harder still the longer they went without speaking. It wasn't something she usually had trouble with – breaking a dull silence with an inappropriate comment, that is – but this time was different and she wasn't sure why.

Maybe it's because I'm considering murdering him when his back is turned.

"Is it much further?" The sudden question startled Vette, distracted as she was with her thoughts. She quickly searched for words as she willed her pulse to return to normal.

"Maybe? I don't know exactly how far it is but I'll know it when I see it." Vette cautiously looked back at Glailen, hoping he didn't think anything was off. She needn't have worried as it turned out for the acolyte was looking away, scanning their surroundings. He pointed off to their left, towards the cliff face they were walking along.

"Let's stop for a bit, we've been walking for a couple of hours." Looking to where Glailen was pointing, Vette spotted a small alcove that would provide enough shade for the two of them as they rested. She shrugged.

"No argument here." With the matter settled, the pair broke off from their invisible path and went to the designated spot.

Vette was more relieved than she expected she would be when she found herself under the shade. There was a rock large enough, though not comfortable enough, to act as a seat. She glanced over at Glailen to find him squatting down against the rocky wall and rummaging through his pack. With a shrug, Vette dropped heavily onto the improvised seat and only regretted landing a little. She sighed as she slouched forward, arms resting on her knees. The trip thus far had left her more tired than she felt she should have been. Certainly, more tired than she would have been before…before I was thrown in a tiny cell for a week. If Vette sounded a little bitter in her mind, then that was fine. She couldn't think of anyone who didn't consider imprisonment a glaring inconvenience on their life.

"Here." Head shooting up, Vette blinked at the outstretched hand in front of her and again at the small rectangular object in it covered in a silver wrapper. She looked questioningly at Glailen though he wore something close to a bored expression.

"It's an energy bar. This is water." He produced a canteen and, with some uncertainty, Vette took the offered items. It's not that she thought Glailen was trying to poison her, she just hadn't expected him to share so willingly. Vette hoped she did well at hiding her surprise as she stared up at the aspiring Sith.

"Go ahead and eat the bar but try not to drink more than half the water. We don't know how long we'll be out here so it's best to err on the side of caution."

"Right. Thanks." Glailen nodded in response before returning to his pack and pulling out an energy bar for himself. He sat silently, nibbling at the snack and Vette did her best to imitate him. It didn't take long to finish their rations – and how could it with so little? – but they remained where there were for a few minutes longer to gather their strength.

"Let's get going." Without waiting, Glailen got up and started walking. Vette stared at his back as he got further away, her right-hand drifting to its blaster. She hesitated. Come on, Vette, this is the best opportunity you're going to get! But…I can't kill him, not anymore, it wouldn't be right. Searching for options, she considered the stun function of her weapons. It would be enough to put Glailen down for some time, surely, and then she could escape. He couldn't possibly find her out here, right?

She changed the setting on her blaster and pointed it at the retreating acolyte. Glailen gave no sign that he knew anything was amiss. Vette's finger squeezed the trigger. Then stopped. Her arm felt heavy and she lowered it. If I leave him and he fails to get the lightsabre then he's dead – that's what he said – and I don't think I could live with that. Grimacing, Vette put the blaster away and jumped to her feet before hurrying to catch up. New plan, get the lightsabre and then, when he's overcome with the relief of not dying, shoot him in the face. No, not the face, play it safe and stick with the back. Nodding to herself, Vette overtook Glailen and resumed leading the way to the ancient tomb.

---

The sun continued its determined march across the sky as Glailen and his new companion did the same through the valleys of Korriban. He briefly glanced towards the glowing globe with a scowl. Vemrin was out there, somewhere ahead, and it struck Glailen as doubtful he would stop even for darkness. Was Glailen willing to do the same? Yes, certainly. Could he do the same? That would mean forcing his guide, Vette, to continue and there was no way of telling how well she would function while exhausted and sleep deprived. Still. He couldn't allow Vemrin to get the lightsaber first. Letting out a low sigh, Glailen's eyes tracked the twi'lek walking on ahead. He was not looking forward to that conversation. Vette had already proved herself to be nothing if not strong willed.

Suddenly Vette became interested in something by the cliff face and she took off at a trot. Glancing over, Glailen spotted what drew her attention. She moved towards an artificial entrance into the rock, flanked by large age-worn pillars. It was, in fact, quite similar to every tomb Glailen had thus far visited on Korriban. His pulse quickened with anticipation.

"This is it," said Vette as she got close. Pausing at the doorway, she gazed inside and looked around before nodding to herself.

"Yeah, I'd recognize this spooky place anywhere." Reaffirming her stance, Vette looked back as Glailen came up behind her. She looked at him expectantly but expecting what Glailen wasn't sure. Still, he wouldn't have been surprised if he had the same expression directed at the doorway his eyes remained fixed on. This was the place where his fate would be decided. Drawing his warblade, he advanced defiantly.

"I'll take point. Direct me."

"Sure. Go straight." Given that the only immediate choice was to go straight, the sarcastic comment was not lost on Glailen. He opted to ignore it and remain focused on the task at hand. So long as Vette found it in her to do the same when it counted, then he was ready to ignore more such comments.

Their trek through the tunnels of the tomb was uneventful but that didn't prevent Glailen from remaining on edge with every step. He hadn't forgotten the acolytes he'd found in Tulak Hord's tomb. They had been murdered by other acolytes but Glailen was fairly certain one acolyte was responsible. He did not intend to be another victim of the tombs. Behind him, Glailen could sense Vette's emotions. There was the tumultuous conflict that he had come to expect but that lay beneath the suspicion and unease held taut like a stretched string. She seemed to understand the danger they faced better than she let on.

Or she's reliving memories of the last time she was here.

There was no time for Glailen to feel pity for the twi'lek, he couldn't allow his focus to waver. Vette continued to offer direction as needed and had yet to jump at shadows. Glailen was inclined to believe she would hold firm as they continued. It was at that moment that Glailen realized his footsteps, light as they are, were the only ones he could hear. Frowning, he stopped and turned around, peering back into the dark. His eyes were as adjusted as he could expect but it still took a second to make out the still shape of Vette, her head appeared turned away. Glailen paused and listened, he reached out with the Force but nothing seemed out of place. So, what is she waiting for?

"Vet–" Suddenly two shapes leaped from the dark and rushed Vette. She cried out and raised her blasters but one of the figures swung a two-handed weapon at her, knocking her to the ground. One attacker turned to rush Glailen as the other moved in to finish their twi'lek prey.

Glailen acted without hesitation. Roaring his rage, he rushed his opponent and blocked their strike on his warblade but he didn't slow. He plowed into the attacker and lifted them off the ground one-handed, using his momentum to carry them forward a few steps before launching them into their partner. The two tumbled to the ground and rolled away before regaining their feet. They had only made it to their knees before Glailen activated his warblade and bathed the four of them in a red glow. A warblade couldn't generate much light – certainly not in comparison to a lightsaber – but after the suffocating darkness, the light was near blinding. For Glailen's opponents it may as well have been for the way they shied away and tried to cover their eyes.

Looking them over, they were as Glailen had expected. A couple of malnourished and desperate former acolytes from the academy who spent too much time in the dark. This time, however, as he looked upon the wretched things that had once been young men hoping to be Sith, Glailen found he didn't care to kill them.

"Leave." They hesitated, shooting darting glances at each other. Behind him, Glailen felt Vette's own confusion.

"Go!" The tone of Glailen's voice left no room for further consideration. The two pale men scrambled away and retreated into the dark. Glailen felt their fear grow further away and, eventually, was satisfied enough to turn away. He found Vette getting unsteadily to her feet and staring at him like he'd changed colour. Of course, with the glow from the warblade that might not have been far from the truth. Grunting, he deactivated his weapon. The sooner they were accustomed to the dark again, the better. After getting to her feet, Vette holstered her blasters and brushed herself off.

"Geez…you sure scared them." The words came out shaky and Glailen thought he understood Vette's unease. They had no idea they were being watched until they were set upon and that was particularly disconcerting in the dark. It made sense for Vette though, because of the dark but Glailen should have been able to sense them. At least that was his line of thinking. So why hadn't he felt anything at all in the Force until the very last instant? The only reason he could come up with was that those two had spent so long hiding from Force users that they had become experts in hiding their presence. But who's to say Vemrin can't do the same? The thought bothered Glailen but he didn't push it aside. He focused on it.

He needed to be ready.

"Better than the alternative," he said into the dark.

"I guess so." A slight shift from the black shape of Vette indicated a shrug. Glailen hesitated.

"You did well hearing them." A pause then another shrug.

"They slipped up. No biggy." Grunting, Glailen resumed his walk deeper into the tomb. Vette followed a moment later.

Before long they found themselves in a large chamber. It wasn't the first such room they'd encountered but this one was unique in that there was light readily available. Along the walls were a number of torches that had blues flames casting a strong glow throughout the chamber. There were also several statues lining those walls, standing tall enough to look down on any intruders. Glailen could also sense the dark side of the Force gathered in the room. Even before Vette spoke, Glailen knew they were in the right place.

"Hey, this is it…let me just get my bearings." After taking a second to look around, Vette turned and walked towards one of the walls. Glailen watched her go a moment before returning to scanning their surroundings. There were a couple of other entrances to the room that someone or something could come from but Glailen sensed nothing from them. Of course, he had already learned that didn't mean everything. He wasn't paralyzed, however. Before he began his Sith training he had to rely on the more common and primal senses of living creatures and he was trained to hone those senses.

"Those torches are creepy; they were lit last time I was here." Vette spoke as she worked but it was a distant thing that Glailen refused to acknowledge for it was a distraction. One someone stalking him would hope he would fall for.

Glailen ducked just as the swing came. The weapon passed harmlessly over his head as he reached back and took hold of his attacker, grabbing their belt with one hand and a handful of their shirt with the other, using their forward momentum to lift them off their feet and toss them overhead. They landed heavily on their back but had the wherewithal to roll aside even as Glailen brought his warblade down. It scrapped against the stone, announcing to the large chamber that a fight was beginning. Vemrin glared over at Glailen but the animosity was mutual. It was good no one stood between them for there would have been few places more dangerous; but because no one did there was nothing stopping the acolytes from settling their feud. That was fine for them. It was time.

The pair rose to their feet. Vemrin assumed a battle stance with Glailen following suit only after removing his pack at a deliberate pace, showing he was in no rush, and tossing it aside. As they prepared, Vette cautiously approached, looking between the two and no doubt wishing she could be in another tomb at the very least. Neither man spared her a glance as that would have been the first mistake of the fight and perhaps the last. That didn't stop her from being noticed.

"Keep working, slave," growled Vemrin, "I'll want passage when I'm done here." The comment struck a chord within Vette; that was plain by the indignation and anger that pulsed from her through the Force. Her hands twitched towards the blasters at her hips. Of course, if Glailen noticed that then so did Vemrin and he would not hesitate to remove a threat.

"It's okay, Vette, keep working. I'll handle the trash." The twi'lek directed a hard look at Glailen but he could feel he had plactated her – to a degree. His tone, after all, left no room for doubt that he would do exactly as he said. Offering only a curt nod, Vette walked back to where she had been working. With no more distractions, the acolytes could begin in earnest.

At once they rushed each other. Their warblades sliced through the air and crashed together. Neither gave ground, pushing against the other. Glailen leaned into his strike, knowing he had more weight and strength to put behind it. Vemrin fought back stubbornly but, while the anger never left his eyes, he showed no sign of concern for a losing struggle. Glailen had a second to wonder at that before Vemrin suddenly stepped aside and Glailen's momentum sent him stumbling forward. He turned just in time to deflect the attack that came from behind but his defenses were not ready for the Force push that sent him flying across the chamber. The landing was painful but Glailen wasted no time in getting up, though he only managed a crouching position before Vemrin was on him. The acolyte swung down with his blade but Glailen was able to block the strike. He couldn't stop the knee that rammed into his face, however, and flung him onto his back. Immediately he rolled aside; Vemrin's warblade carved a line where Glailen had lain a second earlier.

When he was sure he had gained enough distance, Glailen leapt to his feet and adopted a guard. Vemrin hadn't pressed his advantage. He merely stared at him, unperturbed but for the hate in his eyes. Slowly he began to advance but he did so without concern. The sight would have irritated Glailen a great deal more if he could get his heart so cease its pounding.

"That lightsaber is mine by right." The words heralded Vemrin's renewed assault as he quickly closed the gap between the two acolytes. Glailen met his warblade strike for strike but something quickly became apparent. Vemrin was not foolish or arrogant enough to attempt to overpower the larger Glailen and instead relied on superior swordsmanship. It had already occurred to Glailen that his opponent was the better with a blade but he hadn't expected the difference between them to become so pronounced. Vemrin seemed to redirect Glailen's blade with ease and then slip inside his defenses. The aggressiveness forced Glailen to quickly give ground in the fight until, suddenly, he found his back quite literally against the wall. Instantly he lashed out, trying to take the initiative but again Vemrin blocked the strike with ease. His left arm snapped toward Glailen and he delivered a backhand blow to Glailen's ear, disorienting the acolyte.

Panic threatened to take Glailen as he sought to disengage, sliding along the wall until he could push away from it and put a good deal of open space behind him. Once more Vemrin did not push his attack. He was toying with Glailen and the acolyte knew it. For some time Vemrin had no doubt been anticipating this fight and now that it was here, he seemed interested in making the most of the experience. Since they both had to wait on Vette before continuing anyway, why not draw out the fight? Glailen could provide an answer to that but he was keen on using his actions over words. Steadying his breathing, Glailen waited for his opponent to come. Shockingly, the hate in Vemrin's eyes grew in intensity at the sight. How dare this impudent acolyte remain calm when Vemrin could have ended his life already?

He advanced, seething.

"My passions run deeper than yours ever will – I deserve to be Sith!"

Glailen moved to meet his opponent with a greater appreciation for where they stood against each other. Just because he didn't have the same skill as Vemrin, however, that didn't mean he couldn't win. He made to prove that as he met Vemrin head-on, swinging hard again and again not to kill but to knock away the other man's warblade. Where Vemrin had deflected strikes to find an opening, Glailen was forcing his way through even given the risk. The aggressive pressure paid off as Vemrin was taken aback by the sudden turn the fight was taking. He was struggling to keep his weapon between him and the advancing threat when Glailen rushed forward and swung his elbow into Vemrin's face, knocking him to the ground with his head bouncing off the stone floor. Glailen's momentum took him forward a few steps before he stopped and turned to face the other man. He had to give credit where it was due; Vemrin was already back on his feet with his guard up though he was clearly fighting to regain his composure.

"We both know that's not how it works," said Glailen as he tensed for another attack.

"If you want that lightsaber and if you want to be Sith well, then, you're going to have to kill me." The look Vemrin sent Glailen showed that he intended to do just that and with great pleasure. A grin even crept across his lips.

"Gladly!" he roared. The pair charged each other.

Their blades clashed together in a flash of furry. Movement became based more on instinct than on visual reaction. Glailen took the initiative, pushing Vemrin back with a flurry of powerful swings. Vemrin, still disoriented from knocking his head on the ground, put up a desperate defense but only initially. As the fight continued, Vemrin became stronger, his movements less sloppy and more certain. Despite his bravado, Glailen could barely keep up with Vemrin who seemed to have an endless supply of energy. His actions and reactions never slowed or lost their precise edge. He was simply outclassing his opponent. Glailen, however, had come too far to lose now and he was far too stubborn in a fight to do anything less than claw and scrape away at his enemy until his dying breath. Even still, he was slowing and Vemrin was steadily pushing him back. It was only a matter of time before the scales definitively tilted.

Pain erupted in Glailen's side. He grit his teeth and refused to sacrifice a hand in covering the wound. He didn't know how it happened but he didn't have time to think it over, Vemrin was no longer taking things easy. The fight was firmly in his favour and Vemrin knew it as he bore down on Glailen, finding it in him to increase the ferocity of his strikes. Exhaustion threatened to overtake Glailen and his opponent could see it. Vemrin stepped in close, using his warblade to shove Glailen's away before delivering a backhand fist into Glailen's face. He stumbled back, dazed, but Vemrin allowed no time to recover as he swung low with his blade. Pain lanced through Glailen's thigh and he cried out from the growing agony. Vemrin let out a triumphant laugh. Sweat dripped from Glailen's brow as he watched the other acolyte draw close. He could smell blood and he wasn't in the mind to hesitate. If something didn't change soon then Glailen was about to die.

---

The scream drew Vette's attention. She had avoided watching the fight, keeping busy with opening the door, but now that she was looking, she couldn't turn away. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Glailen being pushed back seemingly effortlessly. Wounded and clearly too tired to continue, he was on his last legs in the fight. It didn't help that one of his legs had taken a hit from the other guy's blade, too. Vette's thoughts raced. What should she do? Should she do anything? That seemed a stupid question even as she thought it. She didn't know Glailen all that well but she was fairly certain things would be better if he survived this fight. Either way I'm stuck with a Sith though – what did I do to deserve this anyway?

Even as Vette considered her options, the two warriors slammed their blades together again but this time it was a feint as Glailen's opponent kicked the injured leg. Vette winced as Glailen screamed from the pain and dropped to a knee. He wasn't giving up though, as he blocked the follow-up swing. That turned out to be only a temporary form of resistance as the other man did a few quick movements with his blade before Glailen's weapon was flung from his hands. Vette couldn't follow how it happened but it wasn't important as she watched Glailen fall to his hands. What was important was the fight was over and it hadn't gone well for Glailen.

The look of pure sadistic satisfaction the recent victor directed at Glailen caused Vette to shiver. She knew then that she had to do something to help. The man, standing over Glailen, raised his warblade high to bring it down on his neck. Vette's hand shot to the blaster at her hip – froze. She gaped, watching as Glailen suddenly exploded into motion; tackling the other man and catching him completely off guard. Glailen lifted him off his feet before redirecting the force and driving him down to the floor. The thud seemed impossibly loud but the man kept his grip on his weapon which he began to raise. Glailen was wise to the move and used his left hand to grab the other man's wrist while simultaneously dropping his right elbow into the man's face. Still, he didn't release the warblade but now he was weak and Glailen knew it, driving the wrist he clutched down to the floor. The man growled with frustration and defiance but that was soon replaced with pain as Glailen smashed the man's hand into the floor again and again until finally the hold was broken. The warblade rolled aside as desperation gripped the man, lashing out with his free hand and jabbing a thumb into Glailen's eye. He howled and immediately pulled away the hand while balling up his left hand and driving it into the man's face. Another fist landed and then another and they just kept flying even as the man struggled feebly with ebbing strength against Glailen's larger bulk. It couldn't have been more than a dozen punches but they were heavy and relentless; Vette almost felt sorry for the other man. Soon he stopped struggling entirely and the punches stopped coming.

Glailen heaved for air as he crawled away from his opponent before reaching out with a hand for his warblade. It was a couple of meters away but started sliding closer until he could grab the handle. To Vette's eyes he looked like he was too tired to stand but, using the weapon as a crutch, Glailen slowly got to his feet. At the same time – impossibly – the man rose up. Vette hissed at the sight of his bludgeoned face. He hadn't been particularly handsome before but now it was difficult to look at him – even if Vette found she couldn't look away. Weakly he reached for his discarded warblade and Vette wondered if the fight was really going to continue. Glailen was wise to the move and had already moved close enough to kick at the outstretched hand while at the same time waving at the warblade, which was apparently enough to send it rolling further away. The man tried making a sound but instead spat out a stream of blood and saliva. Sitting back on his haunches, he looked down at his empty hands.

"Is this…have I come so far just to fail?"

Glailen roared as he swung his weapon with all his might. The warblade smacked into the side of the other man's head. A sickening crack echoed through the chamber. What remained of the acolyte fell to his side with the force of the blow. Vette swallowed hard and kept her eyes from the fresh corpse. She instead watched Glailen as his body visibly shook. He heaved for air and struggled to calm himself after finally winning through; coming out of the fight with not only his life but all his appendages. Vette knew what that was like.

After a few moments he straightened, briefly glancing at the gore on his warblade before settling his eyes on the remains of the other acolyte. Not wanting to follow his gaze, Vette looked away and returned to the stones she was arranging in precisely the right order. She blinked, finding that she was almost done but hadn't even noticed with all the excitement going on. Picking up the final stone, she placed it in an indent along the wall and turned it three quarters of a full rotation. Suddenly the room began to shake as the stone wall that was actually a door slid all the way up to the roof. The rumbling and shaking ended abruptly.

Vette took a deep breath before spinning around and waving an arm out to display her achievement.

"You're welcome," she pronounced into the silence. Her audience of one – or two if the cooling body was to be counted – gave no immediate response. In fact, for a moment Vette wondered if Glailen had even registered her words as he was stilling looking at his own handy work. Finally, his gaze, cold eyes that could only be attributed to a killer, swung to her and her breath caught in her throat. Vette wondered if she had pushed her luck too far with the last comment. She suddenly became very much aware her hand was hovering over the grip of her blaster. Then Glailen blinked and exhaled; his demeanour changing to the impassive baby-Sith Vette was becoming accustomed to.

"Thank you, Vette. You have been most helpful." The statement took Vette by surprise. She hadn't actually expected any gratitude for her part in this adventure but it sounded…genuine.

"Wow. It's nice to be appreciated. Thanks." Glailen offered a slight nod before turning and venturing over to where his pack lay. After rummaging through it, he pulled out a couple of kolto patches and began applying them to his wounds. The cuts weren't particularly deep but they certainly weren't shallow either. How Glailen was apparently able to ignore the pain, Vette couldn't begin to understand. When he was satisfied, Glailen looked towards the secret passage and beckoned Vette to lead on. She did so as casually as she could manage. It was a short walk before they came to a point where the passage branched off in two directions.

"That way leads to a big room with old books and artifacts," Vette said as she pointed to the left, then pointed to the right, "and down there is another big room with a lot of statues facing a – I don't know, stone sarcophagus, I guess. It's at the top of a raised dais." Glailen didn't hesitate before starting down the right path.

"It will be there. With the sarcophagus."

Vette hesitated a moment. She was running out of opportunities to make her escape. It was just that there hadn't been a moment that felt right for shooting Glailen in the back. With a stun, of course. But then again, maybe there wouldn't actually be a moment that felt right. Maybe she just had to go for it.

It was easier telling herself to stop being scared and get on with it before she had seen the killer in Glailen's eyes. Now…the consequences of failing looked a great deal more real than they had before. Sighing, Vette hurried to catch up. She stopped short when they reached the chamber. Glailen kept going, unperturbed, but Vette had to wait and look around.

The last time she was here she hadn't actually entered the room but rather stopped at the door, as she was now, and looked inside before retreating. Anyone who could stand the ominous doom that dripped from the walls and coated the statues was either a crazy fool or – or a Sith. That explains why Glailen is walking in without a care in the world. So, what does that make me? Ignoring the question, Vette shuffled her way into the room, eyeing the statues with suspicion. They didn't have a lot of detail but she could tell they were meant to have their heads bowed in worship or submission. Maybe both. A Sith would probably prefer both. Except maybe Glailen. But as Glailen ascended the stairs to the sarcophagus, Vette remembered that look again and wondered if maybe she was being fooled and crazy enough to think even a baby-Sith could be decent – exactly something that would happen to a crazy fool.

---

Glailen reached out to brush his fingers along the inscriptions on the stone lid. As he had walked the passage leading to this chamber, he had been filled with doubts. Defeating Vemrin had taken everything he had and, in the end, he hadn't been the better swordsman. Instead, he won with as much luck as anything when he caught the other acolyte off-guard and simply overpowered and brutalized him. In any other setting he would have said it was a legitimate victory but here, where everything was a test to find the best new Sith, had he stolen his place in the Order? Was it possible Vemrin had been the more deserving?

Whether that was the case or not, Glailen was the one to go forward. I'll just have to prove worthy of a lightsaber and the title of Sith. As he had climbed the steps leading to the sarcophagus, Glailen made a promise to himself that he would work tirelessly to be the worth of not one but two Sith. The Order and the Empire deserved nothing less.

All doubt fled Glailen's mind when he stood before the sarcophagus. The entire chamber was oozing with the Dark Side but its center was right in front of him. It was intoxicating. He allowed it to wash over and through him. It was comforting and reassuring, giving him the strength and confidence to accept his actions. He gently pushed against the lid but it didn't budge. Far too heavy. Pulling back, Glailen channeled the dark side and thrust his hand forward. The lid slid off the top and landed beside the sarcophagus with a heavy thud, though it did not break.

Gazing inside, Glailen was greeted with the skeletal remains of an ancient Sith Lord – Naga Sadow. Glailen briefly wondered if his ultimate fate was to be treasure for aspiring Sith in the far future to fight over but he quickly stopped thinking of anything as his eyes settled on the lightsaber clasped in Sadow's hands. Pulse quickening with anticipation, Glailen used the Force to slide the lightsaber free of its age-old resting place and float into Glailen's waiting hand. Almost immediately Glailen ignited the weapon, so excited was he. The crimson beam shot forth and a rhythmic humming played at Glailen's ears. He tested the weight which was near enough to nothing in his hand. Of course, the blade itself had no weight which meant there was nothing he could throw momentum and power behind to create a powerful attack like with a warblade. That was fine. A lightsaber more than made up for that with its sheer lethality and utility. He would just have to train his muscles to compensate in the future.

As for the lightsaber itself, it was indeed ancient. Worn and several parts in need of repair or replacement that even an untrained eye could see. Still, it was Glailen's lightsaber. It was his and he would make it work. There would be time for making improvements but for now he allowed himself some time to appreciate that his hard work had yielded reward. Turning over the weapon in his hands, becoming mesmerized by its power, Glailen felt whatever the future held it wouldn't be enough to stop him.

Glailen turned, looking down, to find Vette staring at him with her hands resting on her blasters. Her mouth worked, searching for the right words. She paused to lick her lips.

"Not bad. Very Sithy." Glailen considered the compliment before nodding. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped short as a tremor went through the Force. Turning back to the sarcophagus and the skeleton within, Glailen found a burst of dark side energy erupt from the remains of Naga Sadow. So dense was the display of the dark side that even Vette would be able to see it. The two watched, uncertain, but knowing deep down that nothing good could possibly happen. The energy swirled around the chamber before being absorbed by the statues lining the floor. Silence settled in the room as neither occupant moved for several moments. Glailen attempted to speak but again was forced to silence as a cracking sound broke out. It wasn't just from one source though, every statue between the dais and the doorway was suddenly breaking apart. Or so it seemed at first but then Glailen realized they were only losing an outer layer, like shedding skin, and revealing that underneath they were not stone at all. Some kind of humanoid creatures had lain dormant but even now, as they were animated, Glailen sensed no life from them. Certainly not life as he understood it through the Force. He could only assume they were little different from droids but the fact he felt the dark side in them indicated they were likely created with Sith sorcery. Guardians of Naga Sadow's final resting place.

Each of the guardians brandished a sword which they carried or dragged with them as they lumbered forward. Their movements were awkward jerking motions. Whether that was a side effect of remaining encased in stone for so long or simply how they moved, it mattered little to Glailen as he gauged their threat. Vette was doing observing of her own though much closer as she had not followed Glailen up the steps. Her blasters were drawn and though she did not open fire, she also kept the weapons raised and aimed at the advancing creatures. Tension grew as the guardians shambled closer when suddenly one of them shot forward with unexpected speed. Vette did not hesitate, putting a bolt in the center of its forehead. The floodgates opened then as the guardians all surged forward as the fallen one had. Letting out a cry, Vette began spraying with her blasters for all she was worth, desperately trying to keep the numerous threats back. Several went down but those that remained standing cared nothing for the well-being of those around them or even themselves.

Glailen didn't wait to see how the fight would turn out. He wanted badly to be a part of it. After all his frustrations and doubts, even wounded and tired as he was, he very much looked forward to testing his new lightsaber on these things. Powered by the Force, he leapt from the top of the dais and landed a few feet beside Vette, cleaving a guardian in half from shoulder to waist effortlessly. Vette jumped at his sudden appearance but quickly refocused on staying alive. Gripping his lightsaber with both hands, Glailen rushed to meet Naga Sadow's parting gift. He drove into the crowd, swinging for limbs where exposed and decapitating heads when possible. The blades the guardians carried, though primarily metal, Glailen quickly discovered had energy channeled along the edge allowing them to block the concentrated energy of a lightsaber and cut with less effort. Glailen didn't dwell on the discovery, it would have been too much to expect Naga Sadow to make such an oversight. He had also found a weakness easily exploited in the guardians. Though they had shown they could move quite fast when they wanted, they seemed incapable of redirecting themselves with the same speed, making them easy to side-step and confuse.

Glailen moved without thought, allowing his instincts to take over and reveling in the destruction he wrought. With the lightsaber he felt invincible as he thrummed with power, striking as a blur of crimson, undeniable. These guardians were not the challenge Glailen had feared at first. For him, at least, they were little more than a nuisance or distraction. Perhaps that was all Naga Sadow had meant for them to be. Maybe the Sith Lord had a sense of humour. Glailen didn't spend much time pondering the possibility as he was far more amused with spreading carnage around him. As fast as he cut down the creatures, more appeared to stand in his way but Glailen welcomed it. He felt his earlier exhaustion washing away and indeed he only wanted more each time he drove his weapon through one of the guardians. Occasionally he glanced over to Vette to see how she was doing but after she took the high ground, climbing several steps towards the dais for a better vantage point, he stopped looking. She would be fine so all he had to do was clear out the chamber. A job he set to with enthusiasm. A job that was over far too soon for his liking.

Between the two of them, the fight was brought to a close before long. Corpses littered the chamber floor; some riddled with blaster bolts, more with saber burns. Glailen looked around eagerly for any guardians that had been missed or late in joining the fight but found none. With effort he regulated his breathing and let go of the elation he had felt in the fight. Vette approached him, stepping lightly around the litter on the floor, and eyeing him as though he had grown extra arms in the past few minutes.

"I'm glad one of us enjoyed that," she said by way of breaking the silence. Sheepishly, Glailen deactivated his lightsaber and hooked it to his belt. The weight, familiar from when Tremel's held the same spot, was comforting.

"We've done what we came for-"

"And then some," cut in Vette.

"Now it's time to head back." After Glailen's pronouncement he could sense indecision from Vette that she tried to cover-up by openly looking around the room. It lasted only a moment and Glailen decided to disregard it.

"Yeah," Vette agreed, "okay. Not going to lie, I won't be sad if I never come back here again." After a second's thought, Glailen nodded in agreement.

---

When Vette had said she was glad to leave the scary tomb behind, she had meant it, but she left out the part where she was less than enthusiastic about returning to the Sith Academy. Although, with Sith being who and what they were and her being who and what she was, she figured that should have been self-evident. Whether it was or wasn't, she still found herself ascending the steps to the Academy entrance. If she wondered if she would ever walk back out, well, she thought that was justified as well. You wouldn't be in this situation, dummy, if you'd just gone through with the plan.

The self-recrimination stung but Vette was getting used to it as it had become common in her head since they left the tomb. That was when she realized she wouldn't be going through with shooting Glailen in the back. She had tried, of course, tried to find the right moment but when it came, when he was standing on that dais admiring his new toy, he had turned and looked right at her with such utter self-assurance, stopping her just before she drew her blasters. In that moment she half expected him to use some nasty Force ability to kill her because he could read her thoughts. He hadn't though, it was just a coincidence that he looked at that second. That was what Vette told herself anyway. Then things got crazy for a bit and when it was all over Vette was less enthusiastic to go through with things. She had seen the killer in Glailen's eyes after he killed the other baby-Sith but she had seen it truly unleashed in the fight against those guardians. How easily, she wondered, would it be turned against her? So far Glailen had been nothing but fair to her but trying to shoot him would probably change that very quickly.

Now I'm heading back to a cage. At best I'll be sold into slavery far from the Empire. At worst I'll be dead before long. Not the kind of options a girl likes to be left with but I guess this is what I get for having cold feet. Still, if I don't get stuck with the latter option but rather land somewhere between the former and being dead then I'll always have a chance of escaping. Just going to take some time. Vette did what she could to keep her spirits up as she stepped across the threshold of the Sith Academy.

There was an art to following Glailen through the throngs of Sith and Sith hopefuls. She didn't walk so close as to be cowering in his shadow but close enough that anyone watching would assume she's the servant of Glailen and therefore not bother her, which was true but that didn't mean it wasn't degrading. Glailen led them up to the second level and Vette's heart quickened with fear. She had never been anywhere other than the first level and didn't like the idea of being somewhere new while surrounded by Sith. Of course, she couldn't refuse – not without consequences. Her baby-Sith companion walked through the halls with confidence. He at least seemed to know where he was going. Vette tried to keep track of the path they were taking without looking in any one spot for more than a second. There was no telling what a bunch of self-important, speciest Sith would take as offense and there were plenty around.

Before long they stopped in front of a pair of large sliding doors. Glailen spoke to a droid over an intercom and they were allowed entrance into a waiting room. The protocol droid was standing watch inside, ready to welcome guests, Vette presumed, as it was certainly not intimidating enough to stop anyone from getting to the next set of doors behind it. The droid addressed Glailen when the first doors slid shut, locking the trio in the room.

"Greetings, Acolyte Glailen. Please wait a moment while I inform Darth Baras of your arrival."

"That's fine," Glailen responded but the droid was already shuffling over to a control panel next to the second set of doors.

"I think you should wait here," said Glailen as he faced Vette, "Darth Baras can be…intimidating."

Suppressing a shudder, Vette gave a nonchalant look around the room before finding somewhere to sit. She dropped heavily onto the couch she supposed was a rare display of Sith hospitality, adding a wave of her hand towards the door. "Yeah, sure, go on; try not to be too long though. Not even a puzzle game around here to keep me occupied."

"I'll keep that in mind."

The droid was beckoning Glailen over and as he approached the doors slid open smoothly. Vette couldn't help leaning forward a bit to look inside the room, trying to catch a glimpse of the Sith who had decided she was a tool to be used in the stupid baby-Sith tests. For a second, she saw him – or who she assumed was the Sith since he was the only one in the room – and immediately regretted it. A sensation of wrongness came over her and she was nearly overcome with fear as she quickly pulled back, out of sight. She determined she made the correct decision in agreeing to wait outside. Then the doors closed and she was left with nothing but her own thoughts.

Plagued by curiosity and worry, Vette found it difficult to keep from fidgeting. How could she stop thinking though? On the other side of those doors was a big bad Sith who was probably going to decide her fate in some way. Back to the cage or maybe she was no longer useful and she was moments away from being killed? Perhaps, as Vette looked towards the first set of doors, this was her chance to escape. It would be risky – an understatement, of course – walking through the building by herself but not impossible. All she had to do was act like she belonged and everyone around her would either believe it as well or ignore her entirely. There was a big problem with the plan though, and it was standing in front of the office doors. Vette look at the droid out of the corner of her eye and tried to judge her chances of walking away without it taking notice. It stood completely still and silent, the only indicator that it was online at all was the glowing red of its single optic sensor. It probably knew she was supposed to wait and it was no doubt fully aware of everything in the room. She was trapped. Just another cage, if a little more spacious.

You can get through this, Vette, you've been through worse. I mean, that's not true but once you get out of this mess everything else will look easy by comparison. So, that's something to look forward to. Squeezing her eyes shut and clasping her hands together, Vette tried to keep her cool. The more she thought about her situation, however, the harder it was to keep from feeling overwhelmed. She screwed up in the tomb with not stunning Glailen when she had the chance but it wouldn't happen again. All she needed was one more opportunity and she swore to herself she would make the most of it.

The doors to the office slid open, snapping Vette out of her thoughts. She couldn't help but bounce to her feet as she saw Glailen walking out. He barely had both feet in the waiting room before the doors shut behind him. Glailen was fiddling with something at his wrist, which Vette realized was a data-watch. It looked like a cute mini holopad. She'd always wanted one but that could wait.

"So how'd it go?" asked Vette, trying to keep the anticipation from her voice. It was anticipation and definitely not worry and that didn't change as she took in Glailen's far-off look. He blinked as he focused on her but it was a moment still before he spoke.

"He made me his apprentice." Vette gave a tilt of her head in confusion. That had been the goal all along so why would Glailen be bothered?

"Of course, right? That was the whole point of that test and stuff."

"He gave you to me as a gift."

"Oh." The statement caught Vette off-guard. Her mind raced for something more to say but none of it seemed right. Glailen didn't appear much better; looking away as his eyes shifted back and forth, searching for words.

"I tried putting in a good word for you – said you were an indispensable asset – and he gave you to me."

"Oh." Again, Vette could decide on nothing else to say. Glailen offered nothing more immediately as an awkward silence settled around them. The longer they stood in silence the more Vette wished she could simply walk away without saying anything more but that wasn't how things worked. Finally, Glailen met her eyes again, steady with resolve.

"We need to get moving." Again, Glailen looked away but this time took off at a brisk pace. Vette didn't mind that he was doing his fast walk again. She was glad to be doing something instead of standing around repeating the same sentence: he owns me. She glanced at his back as she worked to keep up. Glailen had already proven to be a decent enough person and there were certainly worse people to be owned by. It was weird though, after everything they'd been through in a short time, to think Glailen – in the Empire's eyes – legally owned her. Oh, how she hated thinking about it though. Being owned by someone was not something she relished. Sure, she knew there was a strong chance this would be what came next but that didn't mean she had to like it.

"Lord Baras wants me to meet him at the Sith Temple on Dromund Kaas." Glailen spoke without slowing or looking back as he was prone to do when he had it in his mind there was somewhere he needed to be.

"He's arranged transport at the Vaiken Space Dock. We need to catch a shuttle soon if we don't want to miss the departure, which we don't because that will make us late for the meeting with Baras and that won't be a good start to my apprenticeship."

"Sounds reasonable," responded Vette, "but don't we have time to grab our things?"

"I have nothing to grab." It was a simple and straight forward answer but it still took Vette a moment to accept that Glailen really didn't have any belongings, other than what he had with him already. Aren't I supposed to be the slave here? Ignoring the question, she pressed further.

"Okay but what about me?" Glailen did not respond right away and he kept walking as though he hadn't heard anything. Vette almost repeated herself, then he turned his head to look at her out of the corner of one eye.

"They're not your things anymore, Vette, they belong to the Empire." It was a harsh statement from a serious face but Vette caught the undertone of sympathy. She didn't want sympathy though; she wanted her things back. They weren't much but they were hers.

"I'm supposed to just accept that?" she asked, unable to keep the edge from her voice. Glailen kept his eye on her for a few seconds longer before looking forward again.

"I'm sorry," he said. It sounded genuine but again it wasn't what Vette was looking for. They continued their trek through the academy but there was tension between them now. Then Glailen spoke again.

"We'll look into it when we get to Kaas City." Vette stared openly at Glailen though it meant she was only looking at the back of his head. He was offering to try getting her things back? No, that was stupid, there was no way she would get her stuff once they were on Dromund Kaas. Was he suggesting they buy her new things? That seemed more likely. When was the last time someone offered to buy her anything?

She was still upset but reluctantly dropped the topic. As much as she wanted to speak out, she could no longer direct her frustrations at Glailen. It wasn't his fault that she was in this position – not really – and it certainly wasn't his idea that she lose her belongings. The situation was what it was, however, and they would achieve nothing by arguing. Vette shut her mouth though she struggled with a sour taste.

They had already left the academy behind and were following a decently kept path. A sign they passed indicated a landing pad would be found at the end to which Vette could only shake her head. Why did the landing spot have to be so far away from the academy? Probably a Sith thing about sacred stuff. Whatever the reason, Vette was doing more walking than she had bargained for. It almost made her miss sitting around in her old cell. Almost. Not really, though. She still didn't like walking so much.

After nearly an hour they came upon a small, metallic bridge and across it Vette could see a shuttle sitting at the top of a low hill. She breathed a sigh of relief seeing she would soon be able to rest her feet. The sight distracted her for only a second but it was enough time for her to take another step and bump into Glailen. With him being a rather large man and her somewhat on the small side, the impact was disorienting. Vette was about to let loose with a few choice words but noticed Glailen hadn't moved and in fact was completely focused on something ahead. Stepping to the side, Vette spotted what had his attention.

Standing at the opposite side of the bridge, facing them, was a dark-skinned human woman – another baby-Sith by her clothes. Scars marked her face but what caught Vette's attention was the murderous look she was directing at Glailen. Hopefully Glailen, anyway. I don't know her. Hope I don't know her, thought Vette. She looked at Glailen.

"Uh, you know her?" she asked. The Sith slowly shook his head without taking his eyes from the woman.

"I have a feeling I should." The cryptic reply from Glailen seemed to strike a nerve in the other woman as she bared her teeth in a silent snarl.

"You murdered my father," she called across the bridge. Frowning, Glailen strode forward, stopping halfway along the bridge. The woman did the same. Vette, who was still processing the woman's words, half expected the two of them to draw their weapons and go at it without any further words. A few paces separated them as they studied each other. Vette elected to remain a couple meters further back. This wasn't about her, after all. If what she's saying is true, I'm not even sure who I should cheer for. It was an uncomfortable thought as Vette watched from what was probably not a safe distance but she kept telling herself it was. The woman's hands were clenched into fists, almost like she was imagining choking the life from the man in front of her. Glailen on the other hand appeared calm; though a careful eye could see how he was tensed, ready to act in an instant.

"I had my orders."

"Is that supposed to absolve you of guilt?" demanded the woman.

"It was a fair fight – near as."

"Stop making excuses for yourself." The woman cut a hand through the air as she took a step forward.

"And this won't bring him back."

"I'm well aware!" she cried, one hand going to the handle of her warblade. Vette took an involuntary step back from the hate she felt coming from the woman. How Glailen managed to remain completely still boggled her mind. With a deliberate slow pace, the woman drew her warblade and leveled it at Glailen.

"Your hands are covered with his blood. You can't just walk away from this."

"Maybe not but," in an instant Glailen had his lightsaber in his hands, ignited, "you have to know you'll only have one chance." The woman's eyes flicked to the crimson blade and a shadow of worry passed over them but she stood her ground. Glailen continued speaking with an even tone.

"Are you sure you want to use it today? It might be better if you showed patience. Take your hate for me and become stronger. Let it burn inside you until you can't take it anymore." Keeping his lightsaber poised defensively, Glailen took a couple of steps to the side, leaving a path open across the bridge. Coincidentally, Vette felt extremely exposed at the same time.

"Then come find me," he finished.

"You're trying to convince me to spare your life?" she asked incredulously. Vette had to admit she was surprised too. Glailen had been eager to fight Vemrin but now he was not only showing restraint but encouraging the woman to try some other time. Why couldn't he act like a normal person? Of course, if he was a normal person then he wouldn't be a Sith-in-training and we wouldn't be in this situation. We wouldn't even know each other. Not such a bad thing maybe? For his part, Glailen looked like he was nothing if not completely serious.

"I'm trying to tell you this, right here, what you're doing, is more likely to end with your death than it is mine. Maybe one day the odds will shift in your favour but it is not today." Pausing to let the words sink in, Glailen actually lowered his weapon though he didn't deactivate it. Vette watched as the woman seriously considered what he said, watched as her anger was chipped away from within.

"But I'm done talking," resumed Glailen, pulling the woman back from her thoughts, "If you think I'm wrong then take your chance. Right now. Just remember you only get one." With the ultimatum delivered, Glailen waited to see what the woman would choose. Vette found she was holding her breath and forced herself to exhale. As she kept watching the pair, she came to the conclusion that while Glailen may be fairly nice to her, being around him was stressful enough to off-set it.

Whatever Vette was feeling, she could see the woman was having a worse time of it. The struggle was written plainly across her face. Honour her father and seek revenge now or let his killer walk with only a chance of finding him again one day. But maybe Glailen was right and she wasn't ready for the fight – then she would accomplish nothing except joining her father in death. Maybe she could do more for his memory if she remained alive.

Maybe.

With a low growl, the woman returned her warblade to its place at her back. She stared straight ahead, not at Vette but through her, and the hard look she wore was a match for anything Glailen could come up with. Vette felt frozen in place as the woman took several steps forward. Then, mercifully, as she stopped next to Glailen she turned her gaze from Vette and met his once more. Glailen stood a foot taller than her but at that moment they might as well have been the same height. For a few moments the woman studied Glailen, as though committing his every feature to memory, then made a show of looking at his right eye. Vette realized she was looking at that tattoo Glailen had.

"At least everyone will know you're a murderer." The statement confused Vette and raised questions but she knew better than to say anything.

"My name's Eskella. Remember it, Glailen." Without waiting for a response, Eskella broke away and walked on. Vette tensed as she approached but she might as well not have existed for all the attention Eskella gave her. She marched past Vette and continued back towards the academy. Vette watched her go until she was absolutely sure the other woman was out of ear shot. She turned to Glailen, his eyes following Eskella still.

"Do you get along with anyone?" Slowly Glailen's eyes slid to Vette. He cocked his head to the side, considering the question. After a moment he returned to watching Eskella.

"Just you," he answered. Vette wasn't sure why she suddenly felt uncomfortable. The best she could come up with was the fact she got along with a Sith. She shifted nervously and attempted to change topics.

"Not that I was hoping for it but, um, why didn't you just, you know," Vette made a cutting gesture across her throat.

"I understand her," said Glailen, turning and resuming the walk to the landing pad.

The remainder of the walk was uneventful, though Vette could have down without the uphill part. As they reached the crest, she could see two Imperial troopers standing guard at the shuttle's lowered ramp. The guards quickly caught sight of them – easy to do with no one else around – and saluted when Glailen came close. One held the salute while the other dropped it after a second in order to pick up a case lying next to them.

"Right on time, my Lord," the first trooper commented as Glailen paused before them. The other trooper held out the case in offering.

"There are clean clothes inside more suited to someone of your position, my Lord. A gift from Lord Baras." There was a brief pause before Glailen took the case. Perhaps he wasn't eager to receive anything from his master but at the same time he certainly couldn't refuse. Had Vette been in his position she would have accepted with gratitude. After all, Glailen was still wearing the torn and filthy clothes from his time in the tomb. Of course, so was she but that was different; her clothes, though filthy, weren't torn. Glailen, on the other hand, was just walking around flashing his kolto patched wounds to the world like it was nothing. If the troopers noticed the hesitation, they didn't show it.

"Kind of him," he responded.

"If you'll get inside, the shuttle will take off now."

"Thank you, trooper." Glailen nodded to the troopers as he ascended the ramp. Vette followed a second later, staring straight ahead. The troopers said nothing to her, made no comment of her presence, but it felt more like they were trying to pretend she didn't exist rather than she wasn't worth noticing. She hated it but, in the end, she wasn't the one standing around in the heat trying to look important. What's more, she wasn't the one who would still be planet side in the next little while.

That thought helped a little.

Once on board, Vette found the shuttle was empty except for Glailen and herself. Even the pilot was a droid. She didn't mind but it came as a surprise as she was fully expecting the shuttle to be crowded with self-important Imperials. In any case she wouldn't complain as she dropped into a seat and lifted her feet to rest on the chair next to her. Glailen disappeared into a small room Vette supposed was the lavatory. Barely a moment later and she felt the shuttle throom to life and begin its ascent. Either the shuttle had been waiting for them specifically or their timing was excellent indeed. Vette didn't care either way as she looked out the viewport to watch the red landscape of Korriban grow more distant. Once or twice, while imprisoned, she had wondered if she would ever leave the planet – alive or otherwise. Now she finally was and it felt like a small weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

Glailen spent a few minutes locked away before finally coming out of hiding. He was still adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves as he exited the room. Vette wondered if there was any chance there was a shower in the lavatory but she found her eyes drifting over to Glailen. She had to admit she was impressed with the transformation a new and clean set of clothes did. The clothes – a Sith uniform of sorts, Vette supposed – followed a red colour scheme and made Glailen look less like some street thug on Hutta and more like a Sith warrior. Something that was annoyingly both a good and bad thing in Vette's estimation. He glanced at her and with a start Vette realized she was staring. She quickly took to looking around the cabin casually, hastily thinking of something to say.

"So, uh, what ship are we taking?"

"It's a cargo freighter," Glailen checked a file on his data-watch, eyes quickly scanning the line. He found the name.

"The Black Talon."