Flakes of precious metal fell all about her as if they were specks of dust. Everything was muddied and translucent and, most of all, gold. The hue of aurum created light where there should have been none. Down to every millimeter, it was flecked with spots of assorted colors.
She looked down. The yearning jaws of The Maw snarled up from below. Yet when she walked, she did not find herself falling into that wretched abyss. One foot after the other graced gilded ground. It shimmered with every step, the sound of shattered glass screaming with every footfall. She glanced down at it but for a moment, and saw the gilded mass tremble like gelatin as her heels came up and down upon it. She kept walking. To where, she did not know. She didn't need to.
A red glare splayed across the starfield to her right. The golden walls tinted it the same vivid orange as her lightsaber blade. The shapeless thing screamed at her, a distorted caterwaul that by all accounts should have left her deaf. Instead it only penetrated the sheer walls with a dull thump, like the sound of turbolasers buffeting blast shields. It stung her eyes, though the murk of the walls kept her from going blind. It repeated on all sides: to her left, then again on the right, then from below, above, and back again. She marched on.
Soon after, there was a loathsome grinding sound, as if an old and rusted winch had sprung to life. She gritted her teeth under it. The floor wobbled and her with it, though she did not stumble. Her legs kept still as if trapped by stasis. Another supernova came from the front, directly at her. She shuddered, shielding her face in some vain hope of self-preservation.
When she realized she was not hit, she lowered her arms in embarrassment, but her eyes widened in awe. The room had changed, the way forward morphed before her eyes. Where an empty, aimless path had been now sat a colossal throne. It would have been solid had it not also been made of the same sheer material as all else here in this void. She realized its back was towards her. She tried to trudge forward, but her legs would not budge.
Come on, her brain screamed without any part of her hearing. She was frozen. After a few more futile attempts at movement, she stopped. Her ears perked up.
The throne began to turn. The accompanying sound was stone grinding against stone, though no such surface was in sight. When the other side faced her at last, great arms stretched out as if to hug her, it was empty.
She tried to move again. Her legs finally permit her to stagger forward, inch by miserable inch. Then it hit her. An invisible wall, smacking her square in the head and sending her tumbling backwards. She caught herself with the palms of her hands. The golden material shook and wobbled beneath them, but held steady. She winced and floaters harassed her vision almost at once. Some bounded off, towards the throne; the others remained to beleaguer her stinging eyeballs.
The floaters - all black and blue-green and purple - converged at the throne, in its mammoth seat, and congealed into the shape of a humanoid. Its flat face bore no features save for two rows of horns that trod down the sides of its head. Besides the nebula in which it was shrouded, it wore no garments. Its limbs were long stumps that ended in blunt tips, not digits and extremities. It sat cross-legged on its throne and, although it bore no eyes, it peered into the depths of her soul.
"She will carry her guilt with her always," it spoke, though not to her. The voice faded in and out, as if it passed through the ether and sometimes managed to find its way back. It was lifeless. The facsimile of a person and nothing more.
Tinnitus rang through her ears. She shielded them hurriedly, feeling her fingernails dig into the sides of her skull.
"What regrets?" A voice called out, shrill as any could ever be perceived. It weaved between masculine and feminine, as if they were one. She thought she recognized them both but she could not be certain. "She has naught to regret. Nothing!" It ricocheted against every surface like a wayward bolt and threatened to run her through just the same.
"She will make her home in these halls soon enough." The other voice faded away.
The other closed in around her. She felt its presence, as if it had grabbed her around the back of her throat and began to squeeze. She choked, but there was nothing there.
"Liar," the feminine aspect screeched into her right ear. She thought she felt the membranes within rip themselves apart with fury. No respite came when the masculine aspect thundered "Traitor!" to her left. She cupped a hand against the ear, expecting it to come down wet and sticky, and yet it stayed dry.
Then the pain came. She clutched her side. She pressed at it tightly, feeling the wetness soak through her tunic, then her robes, then her gloves, and finally onto her fingers. She did not dare look. She fell backwards and stared forlorn at the gold-masked field of nebulae above. A light shone down, bright and white. Her vision dulled as her head throbbed. She could not die here, not now. There was so much more to learn - so much more to do, to see! She mustered the herculean effort to focus, squinting directly into the beam. She ignored the floaters that came. Her breathing became labored, and soon enough, she could hold the wound no more.
"Master, stay with us." An all-too familiar voice rattled her to her very core. It chilled her to the bone, for it was so cold. Yet it was friendly, its timbre welcoming instead of thunderous and hostile; but it was also mechanical, robust... archaic?
One set of eyes closed and another flashed open at once. Cinder raised herself from the table and nearly tore one of HK-47's rusted arms out of its socket. In the next moment, Fell was at her side, first telling her to lay back and then psuhing her back against the table himself. Her head found the center of the pillow. For a moment, it felt good. Then she realized he was still holding her down.
"Let go of me, boy." She tried to shake herself free of him but it was no use. The droid also had her pinned by the shoulder. A little tray sat on a cart to his left, filled with medical equipment: sutures, forceps, scissors. He was currently applying a serum of bacta and herbs to her side. It burned like hellfire.
"You took a wound during the duel," Fell said. He finally let her go and backed away. "You told me it was nothing and then-"
"Then?" Cinder's breaths were heavy and labored. She kept her eyes shut. Sawbones here is more like to kill me than patch me up.
Fell shrugged. "You fainted as we were boarding the ship."
"Nonsense. If I had you would have left me to die." When she felt HK-47 move away, only then did she let her eyes creep open. The Ashen One's onboard medical suite was little more than a broom closet, dimly lit and spartan besides a monitor and the table upon which she found herself. Three people at once made the room almost impossibly cramped. Her gaze turned to the droid, who was grabbing the sutures from his little tray.
"That's twice I've saved you." The boy fought back a smirk.
It was enough to make her heat rise. "You are aimless without me."
"No, I-" Fell stopped himself.
She heard the dolorous clang of metal on metal as HK-47 made his way back over. Only three small steps, yet so much racket. If she did not know any better, she thought she could see pity in the droid's photoreceptors.
"Request: Master, you should probably avert your eyes. Clarification: I am an assassin, not a medical droid. My hand has been forced into providing care for you. Commentary: Necessity, as some say, begets innovation.
Continuation: I shall begin the suturing process now. I will warn you: this will cause searing pain that feels much like laigreks rending your flesh. The bacta serum I have applied is still fresh, and my metal appendages will only irritate it further. Apology: I am sorry, master. As sorry as I can be, anyway."
She rolled her eyes and turned to Fell. "Continue," she said as the droid began his clumsy needlework.
"As I said before," he said, lowering his head, "It's not time yet. There's still much left to learn."
He at least has enough sense to know that."Perhaps I ought thank you, for your quick thinking." She grimaced as HK-47 had to redirect a missed strand of wire through her wound. "For saving my life. Again."
The droid finished his work and backed away. He looked over Cinder as if to admire his handiwork, though she could tell there was an uncertainty to his stare. "Commentary: Master, this is the first time I have saved an organic. Forgive me if the work was infantile and clumsy; it was a learning experience.
"Supposition: Though it appears you and your manservant have need of words. Alone. Statement: I shall resume my patrol of the ship." With that, HK-47 swiveled around and strolled out of the med bay.
"It hasn't been long, has it?" Cinder said. She moved to sit up, then realized that perhaps that would be unwise. They will need time to set.
Fell shook his head. "A few hours maybe." He walked to her other side and grabbed a folding stool from a hangar off the wall. He splayed it out with one hand and took a seat.
"We have a date with a Hutt," Cinder reminded him. Every moment was a battle with drowsiness. "We don't have time to sit here and wait."
"We do have time to let a fat man get some shuteye, though. It's still a while to go before dawn, far as I can tell."
Cinder gave him a wry smile. "Yes, I suppose I should trust your judgment." Let's see if you've truly learned anything. "I defer to you on this one, Lord Fell."
"Are you fekking serious?" Fell grumbled and scratched at the stubble on his chin. "I'm supposed to defer to you. You're the master, I'm the apprentice. If you think I'm ready to make judgment calls, then maybe I should go ahead and run you through right now."
She could only grin. "Go on then. Kill me."
Fell responded only with a stupid look.
"I have handed you an opportunity on a golden platter. Six years you've waited for this moment." Try it. "Seize it."
She closed her eyes and waited. The moments dragged like standard hours. Then, she found his presence in the Force, and focused.
She heard him fumble with his robes, then the clink of his fingernails grazing the end of his lightsaber hilt. He brought it into his hand, wrapping both hands around it, she could feel it. She even felt his breathing, harried and haggard.
She heard the whizz of Fell's lightsaber springing to life. He is not without want. Grant me this, apprentice mine. Her mind's eye returned to the void as she felt the saber's warmth as it drew closer and closer to her skin.
But it was not to be. She heard the smack of metal against flesh and the hiss of his saber deactivating as it clattered to the floor and rolled. Her eyes sprang open.
"Query: Master, may I kill the meatbag now?" HK-47 had Fell restrained in a headlock. His spindly metal arms were wrapped so tightly around the boy's windpipe his face had gone from brown to purple. "Conjecture: A most skillful play, master! Luring him into such a trap."
"Let him go, HK." Cinder thrust her head back. "Let him go."
The droid hesitated, but nonetheless obeyed. He loosed a metal backhand across Fell's cheek afterward, then scooped his rifle off the floor. The butt was splattered with blood. Fell cradled the back of his head and scarlet stained his hand when he brought it away. Cinder placed a palm against her forehead.
"Another lesson then, my young apprentice." How foolish are we both? "There is no such thing as a golden opportunity. If you think yourself alone, you have not looked hard enough for your enemy."
"You set me up?" Fell started approaching her but HK pulled him back, dragging him across the floor. "To whose benefit?"
"Yours of course," Cinder said. She rolled her eyes. "I did not set you up. I fully expected your success in spite of your willful ignorance of a certain variable. Woe is me for thinking you could avoid the ire of a Sith assassin droid."
"Commentary: Master, I think it ill suited that you remain in this imbecile's company," HK-47 said. "Admission: A loathsome feeling emanates from deep within my behavior core, a sickening bile of saccharine nonsense that makes me care for you. I do not wish to see you dead, master. Addendum: Say the words and I will have this one disposed of in a way that makes even the Hutts blush."
"I am ever-grateful for your service, HK," Cinder said. She placed a hand on her side, near the sutures. It felt tender and it still burned from the bacta solution. "Speaking of Hutts, Lord Fell and I will be meeting with the local despot here. He insists you come along."
"Repudiation: Do not bother, master." If the droid had a mouth, he would have spit. "I will not go where he goes unless I am restrained and dragged. Clarification: There are limits, master, and your manservant has well surpassed them."
"Well, that settles that," Fell snorted. "Do us both a favor and go back to rusting in the supply closet if you're going to be useless."
HK-47 only rotated his head towards Fell. His red photoreceptors threatened to turn into lasers. If only they could flay the flesh from his bones, she thought. Maybe that would teach him. The droid engaged his "Mockery" protocol and proceeded to play back a recording of Fell in the throes of passion.
"Enough," Cinder groaned. "Begone. I must rest." I will need all my strength to deal with this Fat Minister. Without the droid, she had no doubt it would be all the more a draining experience.
Fell had gone red as beetroot. He stormed out without a word, the thumps of his boots echoing across the ship. The droid lingered a moment, all-too satisfied with himself, and then followed suit.
Cinder let herself fall back against the pillow. Despite being hard as a rock, it made her feel at ease. Her eyelids grew heavy until she was once again in the void.
A set of teeth twisted into a nexu's smile. Not again.