As they step out of the hovercab, Glailen takes a final look back at Dromund Kaas. Not that he could see much other than trees, but it felt like something he should do. It wasn't even that long ago that he first set foot on the planet, but it certainly felt longer. Regardless of the actual length of time spent, he had managed to do quite a lot. Some he hadn't expected to do so soon as a Sith and some that had never even crossed his mind. Killing a Sith Lord? Of course, he would do so at some point but not so soon. Battling ancient Sith ghosts? Never. Now, he feared, a spirit was latched onto his mind. Even now he could hear the constant whispers urging him to take his lightsaber and remove every Sith from sight. Distance did seem to be helping with dulling the noise and perhaps the vacuum of space would do something as well.
Glailen turned towards Kaas Spaceport. It was a large facility as it was the main spaceport for the planet and so there was a great many people milling about, many with uniforms. A few Sith could be seen here and there; easy to spot by the discreet berth offered them. As Glailen stepped into the crowd, he too was afforded that extra space. He and his companion.
"Still can't believe your boss is giving you your own ship." Bringing himself out of his thoughts, Glailen glanced over at Vette walking beside him, a question on his lips.
"Do you have any flying experience?"
"Not really…I'm more of a fix things kind of person. Though I wouldn't mind flying," she responds earnestly.
"You may have to. If you're up to learning."
"I might be persuaded. Let's get a look at her first." Nodding, Glailen leads the way through the crowd.
They get into the spaceport without difficulty just as leaving had been easy. What was more of a challenge was locating the right hangar. It must have been a particularly busy time as there hadn't been so many people last time they were at the spaceport. Had they been required to meet a scheduled time then Glailen had doubts they would have made it. Luckily, with their own ship, their departure time was determined by them. In theory at least, that was how it worked but, in this case, Glailen was under the impression his master wanted him moving with all haste.
After consulting a directory and being approached by a helpful droid, the pair get themselves on the right path. They soon enter a different section of the spaceport and it's different in more than location. Once they pass through the checkpoint where the guards ensure Glailen is a Sith, they find themselves in a space with a fraction of the people moving about their business. It shouldn't come as a surprise to Glailen, but he hadn't considered there would be an area of the spaceport reserved for those who stood higher in the Empire's eyes.
Where in the previous area other Sith had been greatly outnumbered, here they were the majority or near to it. Most of the guards were droids and only high-ranking officers seemed to be allowed in the area. Physically, the pair had a great deal more space, but the intimidation factor had grown exponentially. They may as well have been walking through the Sith Temple at that point. Luckily, they already had experience with that and walked with purpose and belonging. If nothing else, they were surely beneath the notice of busy Sith lords.
Their time among such lofty company was short-lived, however, as they soon took a short lift ride down to another part of the spaceport. The doors opened to a waiting and processing room; at the far end is a wide window that appears to be overlooking a hangar bay. A single droid is there to check their credentials before beckoning them on. Vette rushes to the window, eager to see the ship on the other side. Her face becomes glued to the window and as Glailen approaches and gains a better view, he can understand why. The ship is a fearsome vessel of respectable size. What he could see on the outside was enough to catch Glailen's attention. He could understand how it could hold the attention of someone more interested in ship.
"Would you get a look at that," Vette says in appreciation, "we're going in style now."
Nodding, Glailen steps back and ushers Vette onward. It was clear she was enjoying this moment more than he was and he didn't mind her taking the lead. With a grin, Vette went ahead towards the door leading to the hangar, a spring in her step. Glailen follows a step behind – he's soon glad he stayed so close.
The Force screams a warning but not for Glailen. He reacts instantly, lunging forward and shoving Vette out of the way, the force of his push sending her tumbling to the floor. Vette lets out an indignant shout that Glailen ignores in favour of blocking the lightsaber strike that was meant for her. An attack that nearly cuts him in half and would have had he been a second slower activating his own lightsaber.
Staring past the two crimson blades, Glailen meets the amused eyes of the shadowy assailant. They're older than him but shorter and thinner, yet still able to match Glailen's strength for the moment. Without a doubt they held the edge in experience.
Glailen is annoyed with himself, he should have used the Force to push Vette out of the way instead of coming so close to death himself. In the moment he had merely reacted, moving without thinking to defend someone how he would have defended himself. It wasn't good enough – he needed to be better. That, however, was a concern for later. There's a more pressing issue standing before him.
Kill him! Kill him before he kills you!
Anger rushes through Glailen. Who was this man to try killing Vette? Hiding in an alcove like some back-alley cutthroat – how dare he attack them! Using that anger as fuel, Glailen shoves the attacker away with a sudden burst of strength. Immediately he follows up with a crosscut to disembowel the other man. The assailant is not to be so easily dispatched though, flipping through the air to Glailen's right, landing to place himself between his victims and the lift out of the hangar. A fact Glailen recognizes and welcomes.
"Protective of the twi'lek; interesting," muses the man, unconcerned. Glailen's hands tighten on his weapon.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demands in a growl. The other man seems amused by the whole situation, flashing a toothy grin. With a flourish, he bows to the people he had just tried to kill.
"I am Ralesk," he supplies, "employed by House Grathan for many tasks but chief among them is the removal of unwanted individuals."
"You're an assassin."
"If you wish to be so blunt."
Kill him quickly! Kill him slowly! Kill him!
Glailen so desperately wants to charge his attack and cut him down. To see that overconfident expression, turn to bewilderment and then fear would be so sweet. He wants to do it but he doesn't. If the voice is telling him to then…he holds back but keeps his guard up. What Glailen needed to do was control his anger, not be controlled by it, and remain reasonable.
It was entirely possible that Cellvanta would betray him, Glailen realizes that, but at the same time he's not completely convinced that's what this is. Beelzlit was in a position where he had the power to do so but there was no way he would make such a move without his mother's approval. There had to be something else going on. Or was Glailen giving his co-conspirators too much credit and he was just trying to avoid doing what the voice told him to? It was hard to say but what Glailen did know is that he did not want to kill a fellow Sith needlessly.
Slowly, Glailen takes one hand off his lightsaber and holds it out in a placating gesture. There's no way he'll drop his guard entirely but he is willing to take the first step in de-escalation.
"This is a mistake. Allow me to speak with the Lord and Lady Grathan and I can get this cleared up."
Ralesk shakes his head with a sigh.
"They don't want your words; they want your life."
Before Glailen can respond, Ralesk dashes forward with incredible speed. Glailen tries to backstep to avoid the confrontation but he isn't allowed to go far. With no option but to engage, Glailen meets the onslaught and an onslaught is just what it is. The attack comes in a relentless fury, endless overhead strikes that offer Glailen no chance to retaliate. All the young Sith can do is ensure his blade is in place to intercept the next blow from Ralesk. Soon Glailen is forced to give ground or be overwhelmed by the pressure of the attack.
"Such a basic form," Ralesk comments though his voice is barely audible over the sound of their lightsabers crashing together every second.
When the first opportunity to switch to offense presents itself, Glailen unleashes a mighty swing with his lightsaber. His intent was not to cause harm but to create space between them and so allow himself a moment to back away and regain his composure. Ralesk, amused, does not pursue right away, allowing his prey to take a moment's reprieve. Glailen wished he could look at it as a moment of fatal overconfidence for his opponent but he had to acknowledge the truth as he worked to slow his heavy breathing. The fact of the matter was Glailen needed the chance to rest and was not ready to turn the fight in his favour.
But it didn't make sense; Glailen had gone blow for blow with Grathan yet here he was struggling against one of the former Sith Lord's underlings. The thought grated on Glailen's mind even as he believed he had a good idea of what the problem was. His movements felt sluggish and he felt the cause for that was the same thing that kept screaming in his ear. For all the voice demanded he fight other Sith, its influence may be the reason he falls to one.
'You can make all the excuses you want during a fight but the only thing that matters is whether or not you're still standing when it's done.'
Glailen steeled himself, refusing to be beaten by his own doubts and especially not to a stowaway in his own mind.
"It's true, I have a lot to learn in terms of lightsaber combat but I've managed well enough up to this point," said Glailen in defiance.
"Besides, I could say the same about you. What kind of assassin introduces themselves to their target?"
"The kind that ensures their target is unable to communicate ever again – and do it without getting caught. I know that's difficult for you to understand," retorted Ralesk, running a hand over his right eye. Without meaning to, Glailen shifts his body until he's almost standing sideways with his left leading. He stops himself once he realizes it's happening but the satisfied smile on Ralesk's face shows the damage is done. Glailen nearly curses under his breath but stops and spares a quick look at Vette, accepting the risk of Ralesk resuming his attack.
Vette was standing at what she probably thought was a safe distance; hands on her blasters but yet to draw them. A smart move given the difficulty of landing a decent shot versus making herself a more prominent target. What Glailen notices – what's most important to him at that moment – is that she is waiting. Waiting to see if he can handle the situation on his own. Maybe she even still believed in him. The last time they were in a situation like this, Glailen had needed her help and then got angry for needing it. Not angry at Vette but at himself for being too weak. Was this to be a repeat of before? Had Glailen already reached his limit in combat and now would be forced to rely on others?
'It's okay to need help, Glailen. This is a big galaxy but you're not alone in it.'
Glailen reached out for the memory hovering in his mind's eye. He reached for it and pushed it aside. It wasn't that he didn't see the wisdom in the words, of course he did, but sometimes there were more important things. Like proving to himself that he could stand alone. Proving that he wasn't too weak and that he never would be.
Not again.
Turning away from his companion – his friend – Glailen faced his opponent. Ralesk waited patiently, twirling his lightsaber in apparent boredom. Glailen shifted into a battle stance.
"You don't know anything about me."
It was Glailen's turn to rush his enemy before they could give a verbal response. Their lightsabers colliding sent painful reverberations through Glailen's limbs but it didn't slow him as he struck again and again. The pain fueled him; his anger fueled him. Anger over his own perceived weakness.
You're not strong enough! He'll kill you!
Snarling, Glailen swung with enraged fury. He wasn't attacking to maim Ralesk though. No, he wanted to destroy all the doubts in his mind, real and imagined. With every bit of his being, he wanted to tear apart the weakness that threatened to overtake him. He wanted it – he demanded it! – and the Dark Side was his weapon to make it so.
The expression on Ralesk's face turned to bewilderment as Glailen's assault continued. He left no opening for the assassin to retaliate, seeking to overwhelm his foe not with the skill he lacked but the raw power he could draw upon. As the strikes became increasingly savage, Ralesk stumbled back, needing to gain some breathing room. Glailen allowed for no such spacing, ignoring the pain and fatigue in his body. He pursued his foe blow after blow until the final blow was delivered, a diagonal slash over Ralesk's chest. Glailen held his pose, savouring that final look of fear he witnessed before the life was taken from his opponent.
Once Glailen's heart has stopped racing, he deactivates his lightsaber and relaxes his body. He allows himself to feel the strain he put on his body but it doesn't bother or discourage him. What he felt was the cost of victory and a reminder to become better each day. Looking back at Vette, he offered her what he hoped was a reassuring nod. Then, turning back to the corpse in the room, he knelt down and checked Ralesk's left ear. Finding nothing he checked the right one and found the small commlink. Pausing, he needs to consider his next move carefully and then needs to consider his words. After taking a deep breath he brings the little device close enough to pick up his voice.
"If the master of House Grathen can hear me, then listen closely. I'm willing to overlook this sleight. Do not test me going forward." Having said his piece, Glailen rises up and drops the communicator to the floor before stepping on it. He glances over at Vette who is giving him a skeptical look.
"We're going to ignore the fact that they tried to kill you? I'm just guessing here but it seems to me that they've backed out of the deal."
"We can't very well go after them right now and this may have just been for appearances sake. I'm inclined to trust that's what this was about. Being on loosely friendly terms with a powerful Sith Lord could be useful," replies Glailen, trying as much to convince himself as his companion. Vette seems to mull over his words for a moment before offering a noncommittal shrug.
"You're the boss. Just hope this doesn't come back to bite us."
"I agree with you there."
Glailen gives one last look to Ralesk's remains. He considers for a moment before reaching out a hand. The discarded lightsaber flies to his grip and he hooks it to his belt a second later. Vette shoots him a questioning look but says nothing.
With the matter settled – for now, at least – the pair return to their business and approach the sole ship occupying the hangar. Vette's enthusiasm lasted until she stood under the boarding ramp. Her own ID card may have opened the doors at the top but she seemed disinclined to try, waiting for Glailen to take the lead. Perhaps being the first to board a distinctly Imperial ship brought up unpleasant memories. Glailen didn't think much of it as he marched up the ramp and swiped his card over the reader. The doors slid open and as Glailen took his first step aboard he could admit to a feeling of excitement. His own ship. Something he never thought about having but now he did and there was a certain sense of freedom that accompanied it. Of course, his master's will came first but that wouldn't always get in the way.
Once inside he had to turn to the right and around a corner before the ship opened up to him. He found himself in a common room of a sort. There were a few couches around a holoterminal in the center of the room. Before Glailen could think about where to explore first, he noticed a protocol droid standing against the wall directly in front of him on the other side of the room, apparently offline. Curious, he walked over to it but after only a few steps the droid came to life. Its optics quickly locked on him and flashed a couple of times before settling.
"Your appearance matches with that of my new master. Hello, Master. I am 2V-R8, factotum droid for this vessel and here to serve you."
"Your own droid too," Vette says as she comes up beside Glailen, "this really is the big time."
"Serve me how?" asks Glailen with interest.
"I am programmed for a wide array of tasks from ship maintenance to etiquette. Although, I must mention I am not built for combat." Pausing a second, Glailen shares a look with Vette, the latter amused by the prospect of a Sith needing a factotum droid to fight his battles.
"I'm sure I'll manage."
"Excellent! I'm glad we have an understanding, Master." Toovee responds with genuine relief, which seems curious to Glailen but he pushes it aside.
"The more important question is, can you operate this vessel?"
"Of course, Master."
"Good." It was Glailen's turn to be relieved. Having someone on the ship who was actually qualified to fly it made things a lot easier. It would surprise Glailen if Toovee was capable of anything more than basic flight maneuvers but that wasn't a concern right now. All they needed was to reach one place or another without hitting something. There should be plenty of time for Glailen and Vette to learn how to fly the ship.
"Looks like we'll be able to get off the planet without guessing our way through it."
"Take all the fun out of my day, why don't you?" Vette quips with an exaggerated shake of her head.
"Anyway, if you need me, I'll be exploring. Probably the galley first."
"I wasn't aware you would be bringing anyone else along, Master," comments Toovee as the droid's optics follow Vettes departure from the conversation. After poking her head into a room, she disappears inside, apparently having found her destination on the first try.
"Her name is Vette, she'll be joining us for the foreseeable future," Glailen responds and, after a pause, adds, "and she's not my slave."
"As you say," the droid responds before returning its attention to Glailen, "would you care for a tour of your ship, Master?"
"That won't be necessary. What I want is for you to get the ship ready for takeoff. My master has an urgent mission for me somewhere on Balmorra. I'm going to contact him now to get further details."
"Very well, Master." Toovee bows its head – Glailen cocks his brow in surprise – before turning away to go to the bridge. It was unexpected but again it was also not important when Baras was waiting for his call. Glailen begins walking to the holoterminal, his mind returning to the mission ahead.
"No!" The dismayed shout snatches Glailen's attention and he rushes past the terminal to reach the room Vette had gone into. He couldn't imagine what was wrong but one hand was on his lightsaber just in case.
"Vette, what's wrong?"
"Look!" exclaims his twi'lek companion as she waves her hands around the room. Glailen's eyes scan the room, trying to find the issue. Aside from all the cabinets and the cooling units being left open, nothing stuck out to him.
"I'm looking." It was all Glailen could think to respond with and it earned an exasperated look from Vette. She stepped closer to one of the cabinets and pointed at the contents inside.
"The food! It's all that awful soldier stuff!" Glailen saw that the galley was indeed filled with ready made meals commonly supplied to military units in the field, which was something of a surprise to find on a ship Baras owned. He could hardly imagine his master even considering eating an MRE – meal ready to eat. Then again, how much did he actually know about the Lord of the Sith?
"At least we won't go hungry," Glailen offers. He himself isn't too concerned about what their food supplies consist of so long as they were sufficient for the trip. The look on Vette's face says she is of the opposite opinion.
"But it's the next worst thing. Aside from the dinner I brought, we'll have nothing to eat but this stuff for the whole trip."
"We'll be able to stock up on supplies at some point on Balmorra, I'm sure."
"But will I still be alive then?" Vette asks despondently.
"It's really not that bad." Glailen could see his words weren't the ones Vette was hoping for but he could also see that she understood she wouldn't be getting anything better. Reluctantly, she had to let it go.
"I suppose I'll manage…" Glailen nodded as he watched Vette begin to close all the doors she had left open. They hadn't taken off yet but they didn't have time to go out for supplies that weren't actually necessary. He was glad he didn't have to explain that to Vette.
"Good. Now, I need to contact my master so please try to remain quiet until the transmission is done."
"Yeah, sure, whatever. I'll just be in here pouting."
"Fair enough," responds Glailen with a light shrug as he backed away from the galley door.
Glailen had to focus as he switched from the lighthearted discussion he was just having to the rather more important one he was about to. After accessing the holoterminal in the center of the main room, it was a simple thing to connect to Darth Baras' offices. The holofrequency was already saved to the log, which made sense given Baras owned the ship, and was convenient. A short moment later and a life-sized blue holoimage of Darth Baras appeared to hover over the terminal. It allowed the dark lord to stare down at his apprentice and Glailen was sure that was to his master's liking. Glailen bowed low at the waist in greeting.
"Master."
"Apprentice, I trust you find the ship satisfactory?" At that moment the ship lurched off the ground and began its ascent. Though it didn't feel to be moving fast yet, it handled quiet well as Glailen hardly had to adjust for the added motion. It was a good ship.
"Of course, Master."
"Then let's not waste any time. As I mentioned earlier, you will be going to Balmorra. Your destination is Sobrik; once there you are to rendezvous with one of my agents, a Lieutenant Malavai Quinn. He will help you with your mission on that planet." The sudden switch from formalities to the mission ahead suited Glailen fine. He was more interested in what had his master so worried that it required sending Glailen off-world at a moment's notice.
"And what is my mission, if I may ask, Master?" The question seemed to hang in the air as that featureless mark bore down on Glailen. The younger Sith was content to wait patiently for his master to decide how much he wanted to share and in what context. Baras apparently reached a decision as he clasped his hands behind his back.
"My interrogation of the Republic spy has revealed a dire threat to my operations. My old nemesis, Jedi Master Nomen Karr, has come out of hiding and is on the move. For years he has been trying to prove that the Sith have spies in the Republic and Jedi ranks. I have thwarted him at every turn but he is tenacious and it would appear he has a new plan."
"Perhaps I'll have an opportunity to fight my first Jedi master," says Glailen contemplatively. The thought of facing a master of the Light side filled him with both unease and excitement. A Jedi master was the embodiment of everything Sith hated but they were also the most dangerous adversaries. It was therefore prudent to be…wary of them. Regardless of the danger, Glailen looked forward to the day he claimed his first his first master kill – or else no longer be around to lament his failure.
"Do not underestimate Karr," Baras' harsh tone cuts through Glailen's imagination, "he once infiltrated the Sith Order. When I exposed him, he nearly killed me." Glailen was momentarily taken aback by his master's admission of what could be seen as weakness. He quickly hid his surprise by bowing his head in acknowledgment of his speaking out of turn.
"Apologies, Master. My eagerness got the better of me."
"Put Karr from your mind," Baras said, apparently satisfied with Glailen's supplication, "he is not the main concern. He has a new padawan. The Republic worm did not know her name or where she is now but he had an idea of why she is so important to Karr. Apparently, she has the ability to see a being's true nature."
"That is…an incredible threat, Master," Glailen comments as his mind races through the implications of someone running around the galaxy with such a gift. He thought he was beginning to understand why his master was so worried now.
"Indeed. I have never heard of the Force granting such an ability before but Karr believes it and has already begun moving against me. He's had his padawan use her power on one of my spies on Nar Shaddaa."
"Is it already too late?" asks Glailen in concern but Baras was unworried as he shook his head.
"No. Luckily the Jedi Council do not fully trust this padawan's power. They sent the Republic spy to gather further intel and then report back. He will not be doing the latter."
"Even so, this is only the beginning."
"Right you are, Apprentice, and that is why we must move quickly. The spy revealed some clues as to where we can begin looking to discover the padawan's identity – that she was found on Alderran and trained on Tatooine – but our first priority is ensuring Karr can not uncover any of my spies." Learning that they at least had a few leads as to where to start looking into this padawan was a relief for Glailen. He didn't like the idea of searching blindly for a single Jedi and regardless of what their existence meant to Baras' operations, they were a legitimate threat to the Empire. The Jedi could not be allowed to utilize her power freely for the Republic's gain. Some clarification was required though.
"But I am to go to Balmorra, not Nar Shaddaa?" Glailen asks, still confused as to the choice of his first destination.
"The situation on Nar Shaddaa has become a little more complicated and will be dealt with later. For now, I have a spy on Balmorra who has been put under suspicion thanks to this padawan of Karr's. The Republic dog was good enough to inform me that the Jedi have also sent one of their own to investigate. You must silence him first." Glailen nodded, not needing his master to be more specific on what he meant.
"Of course, Master."
"Make no mistake, Apprentice," Baras continues, his tone lending a greater significance to his words, "this is a task of the upmost importance. I have spent decades building my network of spies; I will not allow it to be unraveled by anyone – least of all Nomen Karr. You will be merciless in this charge. Bring cruelty. Bring Rage."
And if I fail, it will be I who receives no mercy, Glailen thinks grimly but he is undaunted. After all the time he spent fighting those who should be his allies on Drmound Kaas and Korriban before it, he was eager to begin hunting some Jedi – even if it meant the removal of certain espionage assets. He bows once more to the hovering holoimage.
"By your will, it shall be done, Master."
The connection was cut without further parting words. Glailen stood staring at the holoterminal but focused on his thoughts. What a coincidence it was for Baras' Jedi nemesis to find a new padawan around the same time that Baras himself found an apprentice. Karr's padawan wasn't aware of Glailen yet but when she was what would she think? Were the two of them destined to carry on the rivalry of their masters'? Or was one of them the key to ending it? Glailen couldn't boast of having a special ability but he was willing to test himself in battle against this padawan when the time finally came.
Or maybe I shouldn't feel so confident in my combat prowess. There are so many strong people in this galaxy and I…Images of failing against other Sith in the past couple of days flash through Glailen's mind. I need to keep growing.
"Well, that was something," chimed in Vette from the galley doorway, distracting Glailen from his trail of thoughts. He hadn't noticed Vette there earlier but if she had listened in then that saved time. Darth Baras seemed disinterested in investing any time into training Glailen, perhaps content to use the younger Sith until Glailen met the limit of his abilities. That made Glailen sound extremely expendable. He wanted to prove his master wrong but how? Baras was going to keep him busy for some time with this Karr business. The only time to train would be on this ship when travelling from one planet to another but that seemed…limited.
"So, your boss is angry because someone is basically saying he can't be creepy and spy on everyone anymore."
Still, he can't simply learn on the go and expect to survive. There had already been too many close calls doing things that way. He needed to give the resources he had a proper look. Glailen's thoughts trailed off as Vette's words registered in his mind.
"I'm sorry?" he asks, turning to her. Vette grins mischievously.
"Oh, did I say angry? I meant scared."
"Vette, what are you doing?" asks Glailen as his voice hardens and he takes a step towards his companion. Either she doesn't notice the shift in tone or she doesn't care.
"Seriously, he's scared out of his mind that all his power is going to be taken away by some no-name Jedi with a bit of intuition."
"That's enough, Vette."
"Come on, you know I don't like the guy. He may be your boss but does that mean the only thing I can say about him is how nicely shined he keeps his shoulder pads?" In an instant Glailen is standing before Vette. His sudden movement catches her off-guard and she tries to back away but Glailen holds one of her arms firmly; her body tenses but doesn't move. Her mouth works with the intent to say something but nothing comes out. She stands rooted in place, petrified with what's happening. She has that same look on her face; the one from Grathan's compound. Glailen hates that look.
"He is my master and by his mercy we are both allowed to live but that can change if he decides to withdraw that kindness. It is also by his mercy that we stand on this ship right now. It is his, after all." Pausing, Glailen leans closer until he can whisper in Vette's ear.
"Just because we can't hear or see him does not mean he can't do the same with us." Slowly, cautiously, Vette begins to loosen up but a moment later the tension returns.
"You really think he has the ship bugged?" she whispers back.
"We're about to spend at least the next few weeks working to protect his spy network that operates in both the Republic and the Empire. Keeping tabs on his still very new apprentice would be the least unexpected move right now." A couple of moments pass as Vette processes what's said.
"Okay," she says, "that was dumb of me, sorry." Satisfied, Glailen releases Vette. She rubs her arm where Glailen had held her. He didn't think he had been overly rough but…
"Sorry," he offers, again in a low tone.
"It's okay."
"Just, try to watch what you say going forward," Glailen begins to back up and turn away, "I'm going to the bridge to get Toovee updated on our plans."
"Right, I'll just…keep myself busy."
Glailen feels pestered by the feeling that he's running away as he steps onto the bridge but he pushes it away. This is his first time seeing all the controls for the ship and he takes a moment to give it all a thorough look before saying anything. After a moment, Toovee, seated at one of the controls, notices his arrival and quickly gets up to properly greet Glailen.
"Master, we are ready to make our jump to hyperspace at your command." Nodding his satisfaction, Glailen finds himself feeling quite glad that he had Toovee around to make the ship run smoother.
"Good. We're going to Sobrik; there's someone I need to meet there."
"As you wish, Master," says Toovee as it turns to enter a few additional pieces of information into the navigational terminal. In a moment Glailen watches as the ship enters hyperspace. He imagines he could stay here and watch the view of hyperspace racing past him for hours but that wouldn't be a wise use of time.
"We will arrive in just over three standard days. Would you like a tour of the ship now?" asks Toovee as it returns its attention to Glailen. Shaking his head, he turns for the door.
"No, that's all right, Toovee. I'll take a look myself. If I have any questions, I know where to find you."
"Very well, Master."
Despite having excused himself, Glailen remains in place. He stills himself and listens, focusing on what his mind might be tuning out. Nothing. There's nothing to hear except the low hum of machinery around him.
"Is there something wrong, Master?" asks Toovee, noticing Glailen's odd inaction. Allowing himself a smile, Glailen shakes his head.
"No, just enjoying the silence."
Vette was almost ready to cry. It wasn't fair. This here, right now, was all the good food on the ship and once it was gone, she would suffer. What's more, half of it wasn't hers to eat. Sure, she made it but she made it for someone else and she wasn't about to just take it away. Or maybe she wasn't. Maybe she just needed to convince herself a little more by eating some more of her share of the dinner. She brought another spoonful to her mouth and savoured the flavour.
"Ugh," she groans while dropping her utensil hand to the table, "it's so good. But there's so little of it." She's staring at her food with longing and dismay when Glailen walks into the galley. He immediately stops upon seeing the scene.
"Are you all right?"
"No. I'm a really good cook," Vette grumbles in dismay, "did you know that? And now I'm torturing myself with my own food." Waving a hand over the table, she draws Glailen's attention to the problem. He cocks a brow at the display but soon looks away. Neither moving nor speaking, he simply stands there. Although, Vette guesses he wants to say something but is struggling with it. It's making her uncomfortable and she elects to move on.
"This is what I'll be missing," she says, taking another long moment to savour the next bite.
"It's only a few days." Tilting her head, Vette looks back at Glailen.
"I both envy and pity you, Glailen." He gives her a curious look, unsure of how to take that last statement. Since that was what she had hoped for, Vette fights against the smile threatening her lips. After a moment, Glailen shrugs and moves for the cooling unit.
"You can have mine," he says and Vette nearly chokes on her food.
"Are you sure? I mean, are you really sure? You don't have to do that." In her head, Vette wanted to play it off as not being so important but with her every word her body betrayed her. Glailen, focused on what he could find in the cooling unit, waves it off over his head.
"It's fine, Vette, really. I'm used to the soldier stuff."
"Well if you insist, who am I to refuse?" With an ecstatic grin, Vette pulls the second plate on the table closer, coveting its contents. She eyed it possessively, wondering if she should enjoy this banquet now or save some for later.
"On the condition," Glailen interrupts Vette's inner debate and her attention snaps to him, sensing a trap. He slowly turns to face her, a tentative grin on his face, "that you make something for me in the future."
An indignant gasp escapes from Vette.
"Oh, that's evil."
"Just once. Unless you don't think you're that good of a cook?" Glailen's brows rose in anticipation as Vette's eyes narrowed in annoyance.
"Oh, that's really evil, but it's a deal, my Sithy friend."
Nodding and probably feeling quite proud of himself, Glailen returns to making a choice from the so-called food in the cooling unit. Leaving the labour of cooking for someone else to her future self, Vette focuses on the more important matter of her own food. It takes a few minutes for Glailen to prepare his food and sit down opposite Vette. After deciding to save Glailen's – former – share for later, Vette resumes eating with less hesitation. If she had another meal for tomorrow then why worry about savoring this one? When her unusual partner in this crazy galaxy sits down, she gives him a sidelong look. Whatever was bothering him earlier seemed to be gone for the most part. Maybe now was the time to ask the question that had been on her mind since the fight with Ralesk.
"Hey, question, I've been wondering about that tattoo on your face. I didn't think anything of it at first but other Sith keep mentioning it. I feel like there's an inside joke I'm not a part of." Despite her best efforts at keeping her tone casual, Vette can see she may have made a mistake as Glailen goes still. He puts down his utensils and stares at her, his face a blank stone.
"There's nothing funny about it."
Unsure of what to say or do without making things worse, Vette remains silent. It's all she can do to meet his eyes, knowing how quickly attitude can change. After a seemingly endless moment, Glailen thankfully looks away with a sigh. Leaning back in his chair and keeping his gaze on his food, Glailen licked his lips to speak again.
"It's a symbol of shame. Most often given as a punishment to those training as initiates or acolytes." A pause. If Glailen had meant it to increase dramatic effect then it was working as Vette found herself unconsciously leaning closer.
"Killing is against the rules, of course," Glailen continues, "but it happens anyway. Usually, when caught, the culprit is expelled from the Order. Sometimes, under special circumstances like the culprit being someone of immense potential, the killer is allowed to remain but not without repercussion."
"This tattoo," says Glailen as he runs one hand over the ink around his eye, "marks someone as a murderer among Sith. But the shame doesn't come from the murder, it's for getting caught. An announcement that the bearer is incompetent in some way."
"Wow, okay, that sounds like something Sith would do." Vette tries to imagine being in that situation; knowing that your life is less important than how well someone can plan to take it. Then there was getting caught and now everyone – all of your peers – would know what you did. It was something Glailen had to deal with every time he saw another Sith. The embarrassment, the shame – how did he handle it? Did he feel guilt? Did he wish he could take it back?
"Did," Vette pauses to lick her lips, "did they deserve it?" Glailen's eyes flicked to hers and held there.
"If you're asking if I would do it again," suddenly Glailen's gaze takes on a far-off look as though reliving a memory. Vette finds herself holding her breath, waiting for the conclusion of Glailen's reflection. Finally, his body deflates with another sigh.
"Yes."
As an uncomfortable silence falls over the two of them, Vette goes back to poking at her food. She watches Glailen out of the corner of her eye but he doesn't move. Still reliving some unpleasant memories, it seemed. Maybe she really shouldn't have asked that question. Suddenly Glailen shakes himself and stands up, taking his plate of food to the cooling unit.
"I'm going to grab some sleep; I doubt there will be much time for it once we reach Balmorra. You should do the same." Vette's first instinct is to point out that Glailen had hardly touched his food. She thinks better of it though; no doubt what he wanted was to be alone to think dark thoughts. The truth of that bothered her though. They were friends, weren't they? That's what Glailen had said and therefore they should have been able to talk to each other about what bothered them. Maybe a little hypocritical considering I probably know more about him than he does about me. Doesn't even know why I was on Korriban essentially trying to steal from his – albeit awful – culture. Vette winces at her self-reprimand and tries to hide it by forcing a smile.
"Good call," she says without argument, "I'm just going to clean up a bit first." Glailen nods as he leaves the room and Vette is once again left feeling like this relatively short trip was going to feel anything but short.
By the time his alarm went off, Glailen was already stirring in his bed. He allowed himself a solid eight hours to sleep but his body wasn't used to the generosity. At least he didn't have to worry about oversleeping yet. It was doubtful, however, that he would have the luxury of a decent sleep once on Balmorra so he forced himself to remain in bed for the allotted time. After all, when he had the opportunity, he might as well use it to rest properly. But now, with the time for rest past, he got up and dressed. After setting an alarm on his data-watch for mid-day meal – it was important to maintain a consistent schedule while in space – Glailen left his cabin and decided to check on things on the bridge before anything else. His arrival was quickly noticed by Toovee who was keeping an eye on their progress.
"Master, we'll be coming out of hyperspace in less than one hour. Did you sleep well?"
"Well enough," Glailen offered as he took a look around. Clearly, he wasn't needed, which was fine. He could move on with his day then.
"I'm going to wake up Vette; I'll return to the bridge later."
"I believe Miss. Vette is in the engine room." Toovee's statement caused Glailen to pause in the doorway and think it over.
"Hm." Leaving Toovee to its work, Glailen makes his way to the engine room. Learning the layout of the vessel before dinner the previous day hadn't exactly been difficult given that the ship wasn't that big. Reaching the room in question was a quick thing as well for the same reason.
As Glailen sticks his head into the room he finds what could be arguably be described as a disaster. Tools and pieces of the various devices in the engine room that allowed the ship to fly and maneuver were scattered all over the floor. Glailen fought the urge to make any comment in haste. The ship was still running smoothly and they weren't adrift, powerless, in space. Whatever Vette had taken apart wasn't necessary for the ship's safe operation. Hopefully.
Calming his nerves, Glailen turned his attention to the twi'lek in the room. She was on her back on the floor, half her body under what Glailen guessed to be one of the ship's fuel cells. He wasn't visible to Vette so he walked over so as to not shout his presence. After standing around, listening to Vette mumbling under her breath, Glailen finally announced himself by clearing his throat. His method was apparently not subtle enough as it was quickly followed by a soft thud and swearing. Still growling her annoyance and pain or annoyance at being in pain, Vette pulled herself out from her work and sat up to direct an unamused look at Glailen.
"What are you doing sneaking up on me?" she demanded, rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead.
"It's hard not to surprise you when you hide away like that."
"Whatever. Anyway, I thought you were going to bed." Glailen tilts his head to the side, needing a moment to decide if Vette is being serious or not.
"I did," Glailen says slowly, "and now it's eight hours later."
Vette blinks.
"Eight hours?" she exclaims, aghast, before looking around the room.
"But I've only just started!"
"About that," Glailen says and pauses to turn a full circle, taking in the mess, "I'm going to assume you have a strong idea of what you're doing in here. We don't want to have a sudden and avoidable engine problem while in hyperspace – or at all, for that matter." Vette sighs in exasperation.
"Oh, don't you start. I've had to deal with Toovee popping in every few seconds to nag me. I'm telling you; I mostly know what I'm doing."
"Mostly?"
"I'm careful!" Glailen considers pursuing this topic further but decides against it. He would be diplomatic and change the conversation.
"In any case, you should get some sleep yourself and eat something or the other way around if you prefer. Regardless, don't forget to take care of yourself."
"Yeah, thanks, pops." Shaking his head but satisfied he'd made his point, Glailen turns to leave.
"You know," Vette speaking up causes Glailen to stop short of the doorway, "you've never asked me what I was doing on Korriban." Glailen looks back at Vette but she's not meeting his gaze, choosing instead to focus on the floor by her feet extended out in front of her. It was an odd thing to bring up out of the blue but Glailen would humour it.
"You were graverobbing," he replied bluntly. Vette made a face like she just avoided choking on something.
"That's one way of putting it…I mean, you're not wrong but aren't you curious why I was on Korriban instead of somewhere less life-threatening?"
"Wasn't important and if you wanted to share then you could. Otherwise," Glailen shrugged to show his disinterest. It was clearly not the response Vette was expecting but it was the one she received as she searched for words.
"Ah, fair. I just, you know, hope you don't hold it against me, heh." She finally meets Glailen's eyes but immediately looks away, "sorry. Guess doing a lot of thinking helped the hours fly by." Suddenly Glailen understands there's more happening here than he thought. He didn't need the Force to see Vette was dealing with an inner struggle. Guilt or regrets? It didn't matter. Glailen walked over to stand in front of Vette. After a moment's consideration he knelt down so that the person he was talking to didn't have to crane her head to look him in the eyes.
"Trying to steal from Sith – even dead ones – is quite the risk. What made you take it?" Vette's mouth opened but nothing came out right away. She needed a few seconds to organize her thoughts. When she did speak the words were slow, as she tested how each one sounded.
"I have – had? I don't know – there was this group of twi'leks I hung with. They were my friends and sometimes I considered them family. You know what I mean? What does family mean to you?" she asks and fixes Glailen with a look. He gives the question some thought but doesn't need to think on it long.
'This is your family, Glailen. Don't forget that.'
"Family is more than blood; it's the people who are important to us." Vette nods enthusiastically, apparently happy with Glailen's answer.
"Exactly," Vette gives Glailen an appraising look, "you sound like you're speaking from experience." Fighting against his instinct, Glailen offers a fairly neutral response.
"You're not the only one who has had their original family removed from their life."
"Sounds like there's more behind those words but I guess we're talking about me, huh?" As Vette awkwardly pokes at Glailen's slackening defences, the Sith considers getting up and abandoning the conversation altogether. He doesn't though, instead forcing himself to remain. It was his choice to stay and talk with Vette that had led him to this point and he wasn't about to run when the topic swung to him. Besides, Vette was his friend. What did he have to fear from her, especially if he didn't reveal everything? In any case, he wasn't eager to share.
"If you want," he responds, leaving the choice in Vette's hands. She hesitates at that subtle offer but soon shakes her head; more at herself, Glailen guesses.
"So, these guys," she resumes, "they were important to me. We were kind of like artifact hunters. We made it our job to find pieces of twi'lek culture and liberate them from their wrongful owners. Then we take these priceless artifacts and find them homes with twi'leks who will take care of them."
This time Glailen needed to put some real thought into Vette's words. He wanted to believe he could understand what she feeling but the more he thought it over the less convinced he was. When had someone assaulted not himself or someone he cared for but rather his history or culture? Not once that he could think of. He had never experienced what it was like for someone to attack something fundamental to not only himself but those he could consider his people. Just imagining it was something completely foreign to him. The closest he found he could come was what the Jedi had done to the Sith but that was a long time ago. By the time the Empire had liberated Korriban, Glailen wasn't even born yet. He had ample reason to hate the Jedi and, when necessary, he would be suitably indignant over the crimes the Jedi had committed against the Sith; but he didn't feel attacked on a personal level as a result. Even those who actively tried to destroy Sith culture or make a profit off of it like Vette, didn't bother Glailen. Still, even with this inability to fully empathize with her, Glailen agreed with Vette's actions. If nothing else, Glailen knew what felt like the right thing to do if he were in the same position and that was to fight against an oppression that was dismantling everything positive about being who he was. Glailen hoped that if he were in Vette's position, he would have the courage to push back instead of accepting his fate.
"A noble cause," he stated and meant it. Vette, perhaps catching the emphasis in Glailen's words, seemed to shift uncomfortably at the compliment but gave a half-hearted shrug.
"Yeah, I guess. We were just a bunch of twi'leks who hated how the rest of the galaxy treated us and our history. Anyway, sometimes we got paid, usually we didn't. So, we often had to take other jobs in order to have enough credits to feed ourselves. Even worked as assassins once…not too proud of that one." Pausing, Vette's expression became distant, no doubt remembering what she wished could be forgotten. Glailen waited for her to decide or learn what she was willing to share. Before long she sighed and resumed her tale.
"We were going through a particularly rough time when we got an anonymous tip about a serious payday. Okay, it wasn't amazing but it would have been enough to keep us going for a few weeks at least."
"The issue being you had to go to Korriban," said Glailen, filling in the obvious part. Vette nodded a confirmation.
"Got it in one. We talked about it for a while but Taunt said no and refused to budge."
"Taunt?"
"She was sort of the leader of the group. I mean, we didn't have a leader but if we did it would be her. We were best friends and she was kind of like my adopted sister. Older sister. Maybe that's why I didn't listen and snuck off to Korriban on my own. Got what I deserved, I guess." A cloud falls over Vette's expression. Perhaps talking about this wasn't the best idea as clearly it was opening fresh wounds. Or maybe it was exactly what needed to be done to prevent the wound from becoming infected. The real question was if Glailen had a remedy to offer.
"We all make mistakes, Vette. The important thing is you're alive." Though Glailen tries to sound reassuring he can see his words having little affect on Vette's mood. He catches onto a pattern, however, and tries a different approach.
"Why do you keep referring to your friends in the past tense, though? Are they…? Glailen's words trail off as he notices the flash of panic cross Vette's face. It's gone quickly though, replaced with a carefully erected wall of emotional disconnection.
"I mean, they could be for all I know. It's been a couple of weeks since I saw them and we were being threatened by some seriously bad people at the time. Really needed a decent payday to start fixing things. Maybe the debt was collected. Maybe they died thinking I abandoned them, which I pretty much did." Glailen leans forward, trying to force Vette to meet his eyes. Reluctantly she does.
"Stop that, Vette. Stop." It's clear the twi'lek's first inclination is to argue but something she sees in Glailen face takes the fight out of her.
"Okay." She visibly deflates with the word, earning a grimace from Glailen. He can see his friend struggling and he knows he wants to help her.
"You're thinking of the worst but have you tried looking into it? Call them." It was a reasonable course of action to Glailen's ears but Vette merely scoffed at the suggestion.
"Well, I'd like to but I never got my communicator back on Korriban and calling them from any unknown frequency, especially Imperial, is not going to get a response."
"But you haven't tried," Glailen says pointedly but it's quickly waved off.
"No point." As Vette's eyes take on a somber light, Glailen gives a slight shake of his head.
"Sounds like you're afraid of what will happen if someone answers." Glailen gets to his feet and begins turning for the door. It takes Vette a moment to snap out of her thoughts and process what Glailen said.
"Come again?" she asks, off-guard.
"You should call them, Vette."
Having said his piece, Glailen left Vette to think about what they had discussed. He wouldn't force her to face her problems but he also wasn't going to tell her she was doing the right thing. So why not take your own advice? Glailen stops as he enters the common room, his thoughts ringing in his head. In the center of the room is the holoterminal that, once they were out of hyperspace, could be used to call anyone in the galaxy with the right frequency. It could also be used to search the holonet for just about any little bit of information, including, but not limited to, someone's holofrequency. It wasn't the only device on the ship capable of doing both tasks either so a lack of privacy was no excuse. This is different though, Glailen told himself, I'm not afraid of what I'll find. I'm worried it's not the right time.
Shaking his head, Glailen continues on his way to the galley to break his fast. As he sat chewing on his food it felt…nice not having to answer to the schedule of anyone but his own. There was no strict timetable before morning lessons or wondering if he would even be allowed the luxury of a meal in the morning. Instead he could wait until he was satisfied and organize his thoughts. That said, he didn't sit around excessively. He had work to do.
Once finished with his meal he headed to the bridge. He finds Toovee right where he had left the droid. With – still – nothing appearing out of order, Glailen presumed it wouldn't be a problem pulling the droid away from its vigilance, at least for a moment or two.
"Toovee, would you accompany me for a moment? I have a few questions."
"Of course, Master," replied the droid as it rose from its seat, "what can I help you with?"
Instead of answering right away, Glailen leads the droid through the ship. It's a short walk as everything is on a vessel of this size. Soon they arrive at a room undoubtedly set aside for exercise and physical activity. While in space it was important for a person to remain active. It was regulation for any ship in the Imperial Navy made for holding groups greater than four to set aside some space for just such a purpose. Glailen was glad for it so all his time wasn't divided between studies and meditation.
At the moment, his interest stood silent against the far wall as Glailen and Toovee enter the room. With a wave of his hand, Glailen indicates the two powered-down droids. "During my exploration of the ship yesterday, I came across these training droids. Do you know if they're capable of providing a suitable challenge for a Sith?"
"Oh yes, Master, like myself they were built to for the service of Sith." Glailen looks at Toovee, feeling he had just grasped the obvious.
"All your previous owners have been Sith?"
"That is correct, Master." Ah, that explains everything. Nodding, Glailen turns his attention back to the reason the two of them were there now.
"And these training droids, are they familiar with the various Sith combat styles?"
"They are, Master. In fact, their programing was updated before we departed Dromund Kaas. They are aware of any recent changes or additions to the fighting forms. You can even have them mimic a number of the Empire's most prolific duelists."
Anticipation grew in Glailen as he felt his pulse quicken.
"One more question; can they teach me?"