Chapter 12: Old Blood

The repair yard had become a battlefield.

Temmin stumbled back in full retreat, his blue blade spinning defensively, while crimson blows rained down like a torrent in a hurricane.

The young half-blood was shocked.

He knew his opponent had been powerful, but…this…

He swallowed hard.

He had never expected this!

As he was pushed back, he nearly tripped over a decommissioned speeder, he rolled across the hood, just missing getting his head taken off by his opponent's blade. Though early in the day, the metal of the speeder was already scalding hot, and his bare back felt that. as well as a slight pinching near his shoulder.

He regained his feet, seeing his blood staining the metal, a jagged edge on the frame of the old speeder.

He had no time to examine the injury however, already his attacker was making his way around the vehicle. His eyes focused on his opponent, and blade raised, ready for the next attack.

Temmin, barefooted and bare chested had been caught completely unaware…he…he had thought they were going to talk.

This attack…it had come out of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

His attacker shrugged.

"Because I warned you years ago, boy," he answered, his voice betraying nothing, certainly not showing the fury that their most recent exchange of blows suggested.

He sounded almost…pained to be doing this, but still determined.

I warned you, the old man had said.

Temmin's eyes narrowed.

He remembered that warning, but that still didn't explain why this fight was necessary.

Why someone he loved was acting like he wanted to kill him.

Temm's eyes narrowed.

"We don't have to do this," he said lowering his blade slightly.

The old man's response was as quick as it was vicious.

"You are most unwise to lower you defenses!"

Again the old one charged in, and again Temm found himself retreating, giving under the onslaught that had become the old one's blade.

Though he had studied Djem So, the aggressor's style, his opponents attack went beyond its heavy strikes. Despite being equal in size, the old one's blade spun from one style to the next, almost overwhelming his younger, and stronger, opponent.

Juyo? Maybe?

The young half-blood couldn't believe it!

To still have such stamina at an advanced age? Truly the Force was with him.

He leapt back, trying to give himself room to maneuver, the old man flung his saber, its crimson blade spinning end over end!

Temmin twisted in the air, just avoiding being sliced in half. He came down on the balls of his feet, the Force screaming in his ears.

He whirled his blade up and behind him. His blue saber bucked as the red blade cracked against it and bounced off. It spun away to the right, but before Temmin could make his move, the old one called the weapon back.

It landed in his outstretched hand, and again his attacker dove in, raining down death in a fury of blows.

The young half-blood parried or misdirected them, but only just…

He…he still couldn't believe it.

The old one…

…his attacks were so fast!

Temm had been forced to rely on Soresu forms, but he had never really had a talent for them, his defensive style had only been more focused on Shien, blocking bolts until he could get in close and end the fight with Djem So's powerful strikes. He felt slow using the Soresu form, in fact he had only just been able to use it to stay alive.

Recognizing that he could not talk his way out of this, and a defensive strategy was offering him nothing. He tried to go on the offensive.

He reached out with the Force, and pulled.

Scraps of metal and ship parts came flying towards his opponent's back.

Again, the old one dodged, he practically danced around the flying debris, even cutting away some with his saber.

Temm tried to take advantage; he dove in with a flurry of quick strikes.

Precision this time…not raw strength.

As Master Fenn had taught him. The Jedi way.

He would rather this not end in blood.

He hoped that it wouldn't.

Temm went to disarm his attacker, but the old one danced out of the way, again, danced away, and struck him with a Force push, a push that sent the young half-blood flying back.

He turned that flight into a roll, and came up on his knees his weapon still held out, and at the ready.

He snarled with frustration. The cut on his shoulder doing nothing to improve his mood.

The painful throbbing stoking his temper, his old blood began to burn.

He tried to push such thoughts aside, focus on the here and now.

How had this happened, he found himself wondering.

An hour ago he had been at peace, eager to enjoy another of Death's slow hot days in the dark shadows of the garage.

He had been content. He had lain in bed, resting in the arms of his lover. Switch had snuggled up against him. After love, they had only wished to sleep, the passion sweat drying on their tired bodies, safe and cool in the dark confines of her shop's back room.

Now, this…

Temm gritted his teeth.

How had it come to this?!

IOI

Only a few short hours earlier, they had been having dinner, Switch and him. The Last Breath had been busy that night, many raiders enjoying a bit of down time.

The ships had left a few hours earlier, not to raid, but to deliver the Hutts' tribute for the month. Foodstuffs and ore packed their galleons and freighters, and were on their way to their destinations.

As was the way on Death, the people chose to celebrate this downtime.

Switch had tried to get out of their date again, not because she didn't want to go, but because so many in the town had dropped new work on her at the last minute. Temm convinced her that it would do no good for her to exhaust herself while others were having fun.

This was a rest night, everyone knew it.

They could wait for their machines to be fix, for one night at least.

She had grudgingly agreed, saying only that she was trying to be useful, pay the colony back for her freedom.

He assured her that she had already done that, she was a valuable member of this community, a fact that everyone knew and accepted.

So, they had gone out to the Last Breath, and the night had been more than agreeable.

She had promised to meet him in after midnight, once she had freshened up. So he had gone to the Breath alone, expecting to have to go and fetch her, suspecting some citizen would drop in on her shop, and demand her aid.

This night, he had not needed to, she showed up ten minutes after the midnight bell.

She had showed up, and taken his breath away.

She had changed out of her mechanic overalls and into a little blue dress. A thin shawl of shimmer silk her only protection against the night's chill. Almost every young man in Eulogy had taken notice, and a few of the women too.

Temm had felt several jealous eyes on them, as she had come up to him, and given him a chaste kiss on the lips.

The simple act of affection that warmed him to the bone.

Was this what love felt like?

It was an intriguing thought.

When he left to join the Jedi five years ago, he had never thought what giving up on such emotions would mean.

What he was feeling now…

…he wondered why he had been so quick to dismiss a normal life.

Switch's smile made everything seem different, more open somehow.

They had only been dating for about three months, and even in that short amount of time, she had discovered how to make him simple puddy in her hands.

They drank their ale, and spoke of trivialities, things going on in the colony, and among the crews. She spoke of this technical problem or that, he understood some of it at least, his Jedi training had included some mechanical instruction, fixing starfighters and the like.

As the night had drawn on, they had gotten closer, more intimate. They had retired to one of the tables in the back, whispering pleasantly, kissing more often.

She had giggled then.

"What?" he had asked.

She blushed and smiled.

"I can't believe that I was ever afraid of you."

Her statement took him back, a year ago, when he had liberated her. Freeing her from the ship she had been imprisoned on. He had plucked her from a group of would-be pleasure slaves. He had felt her terror, seeing someone of the old blood…

He had done his best to put her at ease. He wasn't sure why he had picked her out of so many other attractive females.

Yet, he had…the will of the Force, maybe…

Regardless, he had not known what would happen by doing so.

How much it would change his heart.

Things continued to go well; things got a bit more…touchy. Finally, she said the words he had been hoping for…

"Come home with me."

He had got up without word or thought.

How could he not?

In this…she was in command.

No words passed between them on the way back to her shop. When they were back behind closed doors, she came to him, and he carried her to her room.

They spent an hour together in the shower, before the hot water gave out, and drove them both out into her tiny apartment, and into her bed.

After love, he had started, to rise, to leave and let her get some sleep. She had not let him go.

"Stay with me," she murmured.

"Please."

He lay back down, and held her, feeling her breach warm against his chest. Feeling her sense of contentment through the Force.

They lay atop the mattress, nothing between them, not even a blanket, undressed and content in each other's arms. They had both drifted off to sleep.

Herr warm breath on his chest was soothing, he pulled her closer, making her murmur happily, and soon…he was asleep…

…then…the nightmare began.

IOI

A nightmare…yes, but something more…

…the Force filled him up, letting him know that this no mere trick of the mind, but something far more…

…far…darker!

He found himself beyond the red line, the very edge of the galaxy itself, looking in.

He saw as the shadow reached out across the stars. Space was dark, but the great shadow was darker, it seemed to drink up even the void, and where it touched, the worlds that fell beneath it. He…

He felt like something within him was being torn out.

Death…so…much death, and not all of it the simple kind, the physical kind. He felt the end of will, of choice. What was left still functioned, but it was nothing but a tool, an empty vessel that existed only to serve…only to cause pain.

"MINE!"

The voice echoed through the Force, as cold and terrible as the void. Its cold tone seemed to be making the galaxy itself shudder.

The hand extended further, and the Force roiled under its cold reach, millions winking out as those long dark fingers ran over stars and worlds.

"MINE!"

Temmin saw them then, the eyes above the galaxy, yellow, cold, and hungry. He could just make out the silhouette, the slender figure, the long flowing black hair, the white teeth appearing as the purple lips parted…

…the smile of a hungry predator, a predator ready to feast on the entire galaxy!

It was then that the eyes fell upon him. He tried to pull away, return to the physical world, but…he could not.

He tried to turn away, but he had no physical form. He tried to cry out, but he had no mouth!

The hand reached for him.

No.

NO!

"Mine," Darth Avaryss hissed as she reached out, her long fingers reaching for him, seeking his spirit, his very essence.

NO!

"ALL MINE!"

NO!

The darkness touched him…

"NOOOOO!"

IOI

Temmin startled, he awoke with a shudder.

He awoke…and…

He looked up.

They were no longer alone!

A tall broad shadow stood over their bed!

"Temm?" Switch murmured, gently pushing away from his bare chest, she sat up rubbing her eyes.

She saw the silent shadow.

She cried out, a shriek of surprise and fear. She reached out for the sheets, to try and cover herself up.

They had both went to sleep wearing nothing.

"WHO?" the girl cried out, falling out of bed, "WHAT?!"

Temm reached for his lightsaber, but it was not at his side, it was on his belt in the garage, where he had left it as they had made their way to her rooms, as they had undressed…

The shadow didn't move, it turned its head away respectfully, and then…

…then…it spoke.

"I mean you no harm, young lady."

The voice was as cool and hard as metal, polite, but possessing a sense of command.

Temmin frowned.

He knew that voice.

It had been years, but…

He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Not Avaryss…not an enemy!

He…he could not believe it.

"G…Grandsire?"

The shadow stepped back, crossing muscular arms. As his eyes adjusted, the man's features came clearer. A very old Sith pureblood, dark red skin almost black in this light, long grey hair braided down the back. The points of his brow looked like stiletto blades, the tendrils of his chin, still thick, barely moved as he turned his head. Yellow eyes, cold and unsympathetic…usually.

For the moment, they seemed cool, distracted.

He bowed his head.

"Good morning, son of my son. Forgive my rude intrusion."

The old man stepped back, and looked away, offering the two lovers time to rise.

"TEMMIN!" Switch cried out, still trying to cover herself up, to shield her modesty, "WHO IS THIS?! WHAT IS HE DOING HERE!?"

In response, the old one lifted her bath robe from a hook on the wall, he passed it to her, while looking away respectfully.

"Forgive my interruption, young lady," he repeated, "I've come far, seeking the son of my son."

He looked up at Temmin, his yellow eyes glittering in the dim light of the dark apartment.

"It seems that I have found you, son of Vokai."

Switch, now in her bath robe, took a breath as she backed against the wall, still trying to deal with the fact that their guest had let himself in.

"Temmin," she demanded, "Who is this?!"

He sat up and sighed.

"Switch…um…allow me to introduce you to my grandsire. This is Gnar of the old blood, of House Vokai, a general in the Sith imperial army."

"A general, no more," the old one clarified, "I defected to the Republic some twenty years ago, and have lived in exile ever since."

Temmin swung his legs over the bed, he reached out with the Force, pulling his pants to him. He pulled them on, glaring at the old pure blood.

His Grandsire, here!

How?

How had he found him?!

Switch, her shock giving way, and now having something on, rubbed her eyes, and looked at their uninvited guest."

"Your grandsire?" she said, "You mean…your grandfather?"

Temmin nodded.

Switch took a deep breath, and tried to center herself. Having survived slavery, and living on Death for almost a year now. She had needed to learn to adapt quickly.

She smoothed out her robe, and tried to be respectable.

"Um…good morning, sir. I…uh…this is a bit of a surprise."

Gnar bowed respectfully, and then turned to Temm.

"This is most…unexpected, Temm. When last we spoke you had chosen to honor the Jedi way. I may not know much about the order, but spending the night with someone is not exactly a part of the Jedi Order's protocols."

Behind the two men, Switch blushed.

Temm frowned.

"The order is not what it once was, Grandsire, the council scattered, my own master, missing, perhaps dead."

He stood up, and was surprised to see just how much he had grown in the last few years.

Once his grandsire had towered over him, now, he stood almost eye level with the old pure blood. The muscle he had added to his frame these last few years also made him slightly larger than Gnar.

Not that his grandfather was a small man, oh no. He was well into his second century of life, but still cut an imposing figure, he was slightly more slender than he had been when Temm had left home, but was still powerfully built. His robes were cut in the Jedi fashion, but dark colored, likely grey if they were standing in the bright sunlight.

He regarded his grandson thoughtfully.

"We should speak, Temmin, privately," he said, "If you would excuse us, miss…?"

"Switch," she said quickly, before giving him a sheepish look, "I…I mean Juno, my name is Juno Carniss. Switch is my nickname here."

Temm's grandfather bowed his head respectfully.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Juno of House Carniss."

His respectful address had the proper effect.

The girl relaxed; Temm could sense it through the Force.

As for his grandfather, he…he was far from relaxed.

Temmin could sense it.

The old one was wound tighter than a metal spring.

"Come lad," he said, "We must converse…in private."

Temmin nodded, he gave Switch an apologetic look.

She nodded, and gestured for him to go with his grandsire.

Gnar had travelled far to find him, the colony where he had been exiled to after the war was many, many lightyears away, and the Republic had made him swear not to leave it.

If he was here, he had violated the terms of his surrender.

He could be punished for that.

Temmin followed after the old pure blood, pausing only briefly to use the Force to call his belt to him, his belt and lightsaber.

Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed the Sith lanvarok he had recovered two raids ago. Switch had been helping him restore it to working order. The wrist mounted device was a modern version of the old disk launchers used by warriors of empire during its golden age.

He slipped it on his left arm, without really thinking about it.

"How did you fine me?" he asked.

"You are my blood," the former general responded, "The Force guided me, and you did not make it very hard, son of my son. You have taken up our family name. Vokai is still remembered within many circles."

The old man shook his head.

"You took a risk, young one."

"The Tagge name was no longer safe, Grandsire. I thought it appropriate to use my father's name. To honor both him, and you."

The old one snorted, and said no more.

Temm didn't like that sound.

It didn't sound like his grandfather approved his choice.

The old man's disapproval could be dangerous to the one who earned it. Many a Sith acolyte and officer had learned that during the war.

He followed his grandfather out into the repair yard, and there, about twenty paces from the door. Gnar Vokai stopped.

Temmin did as well.

"Grandsire?" he asked.

The old man sighed.

"You armed yourself, good," he said, "I was afraid that you had forgotten to listen to your instincts."

The young half-blood blinked.

"My instincts? I don't understand? What is…"

He didn't get a chance to finish.

One moment his grandsire had been standing still, the next the lightsaber on his belt was out, out and ignited.

He attacked Temmin viciously.

The boy barely had time to raise his weapon.

That was how the fight had begun.

Temmin was determined to end it.

IOI

"STOP!"

Temmin fired the lanvarok, its disks flew through the air.

His grandfather dodged with ease, not even trying to block with his lightsaber.

His eyes narrowed.

"You use the lanvarok, a fitting weapon for a young Vokai, but you do not know how to use it. It is no mere blaster, but an extension of its wielder. The disks should be a part of you through the Force. You should be able to control their flight. They should be surrounding me even now."

Gnar shook his head.

"The ancient warriors of our race once took down whole platoons with a single clip."

The old one gave him a disapproving look.

"You still have much to learn."

Temmin charged in. Now, his grandsire fell back, parrying his blows.

"If I survive, right?" he asked him.

The old one nodded.

"Just so."

Gnar shed his hooded robe, he stood before the younger man. The black breeches, and sleeveless vest were not battle-armor, but that made the man wearing them no less a warrior.

No, Temmin realized.

A weapon.

The Sith Empire had made his grandfather a weapon long ago.

The old one still was one.

He stood before Temmin, his blade at the ready, locked in a ready stance.

"Shall we continue?"

Temmin responded with a snarl.

He had not wanted this fight, would rather not fight with the one who had been there most often than not when he was a boy.

Yet, his blood was up, his temper was rising.

He had trained as a Jedi, but that didn't mean that he had forgotten his heritage.

He was of the old blood too!

He had the fire of his Sith ancestors.

He gave into that fire now, angry at the old one's interruption and his decision to attack.

You want a fight, old man, he thought.

Fine.

LET'S GO!

Temmin charged, and Gnar gave way, the two danced across the repair yard, blue and red blades flashing, almost too quick for the eye to see.

Gnar tried another Force push, but this time, Temm was ready, he wove around it and continued the attack. He hammered the old one's defenses with the heavy strikes of Djem So.

"WHY ATTACK ME!" He roared.

"WHY?!"

"Because you have challenged me," Gnar responded.

" I haven't seen you in years! How could I challenge you?!"

"You took the Vokai name, boy! I warned you about doing that!"

The old man parried and launched an attack of his own. His scarlet blade kissed Temm's shoulder, leaving a black burn. The boy hissed but pushed through the pain.

He renewed his attack.

Parry.

Thrust!

Parry!

Thrust.

Again, his grandsire gave ground.

"The Vokai name is not safe, Temmin," he said, "Vitiate may be gone, but his cronies remain, they are still loyal to his will and desire."

He swung at Temm's head, who ducked, and threw a Force push of his own. Gnar blocked it, and twirled his weapon, changing his sequences on the fly.

Temm only just got his blade up.

"The call for our heads remains strong in many Sith minds. The emperor decreed that our family's lives were forfeit. Hunters still prowl the stars, searching for our bloodline. I found you easily, another Sith would not find you hard to track. You court death by risking the empire's ire. You endanger yourself and these people. You endanger the girl you share your bed with. Your mother…"

Hearing Gnar mention his mother.

It…it caused something to snap.

In that moment, Temmin was back in the caverns beneath Survivor Base again, he heard the rocks above creak and shift.

He heard Roxanna Tagge's scream, her final scream.

He…

…she…

RAGHHHH!

"MOM'S DEAD!"

Temmin roared, the thought of his failure back at Survivor Base, his mother's final scream, and the old one's arrogant attack, set him off.

A pulse of pure Force energy tore through the yard. Gnar was flung back against an old speeder, before he could recover Temmin was there. He flicked his wrist, bringing his blade down and around. He burned his grandsire's sword hand, making him lose his weapon. Before Gnar could recover it, Temmin stepped down hard upon it, pinning it in place.

He was in the old one's face then, his blade at his throat, blood pounding through the young half-blood's ears. His heart beating like a war drum.

Kill him, the darkness within whispered.

KILL!

Temm didn't obey.

Master Fenn's training remained; he had wanted to be a Jedi once.

A Jedi didn't kill an unarmed opponent.

Not unless they chose to force the issue.

"Yield," he snarled.

Gnar said nothing, he simply stood there.

Temmin's features twisted into a mask of anger.

"YIELD! DAMN YOU!"

His blade came up, almost scorching his grandfather's throat.

Temmin stood before him, eye to eye.

"Is this what you wanted, old man? Is this what you wanted to see?! Does my rage please you? Does it?!"

Gnar smiled slightly.

"I needed to be sure," he said.

"Sure? Sure of what?!"

I needed to know you were strong enough," his grandsire replied, "The hunters will come, it is only a matter of time."

He leaned forward.

"Your passions have made you strong, son of my son. Strong enough to protect those you care for, to keep what is yours. As the old ways say, you may do with me as you will. My life is yours, if you wish it. If you desire it, I will not resist. You have won my life."

Temm hissed in frustration.

Oh, Grandfather, he thought.

Still, focused on the old way, the young slaying the old, and all to prove their worth.

Temmin didn't need to kill the old man.

He didn't want to.

The old way had caused his father to be exiled.

The Sith had killed him.

Avaryss had taken his mother.

He…he would not kill the last of his bloodline.

He would not be alone.

He hissed, breathing out his anger.

He deactivated his saber, and put it on his belt.

"I'm not of the empire," he reminded the old one.

"I'm my own man, and I choose my own path. MINE."

He took another breath.

"I respect you, grandsire. I love you, but do not seek to challenge me again."

Gnar chuckled.

"That would be a mistake on my part, yes. I swear…"

An angry Wookie roar interrupted them.

Temm looked up. Rufo was there, as was Captain Buz and his enforcers.

They had likely heard the sounds of battle.

Temmin took another shuddering breath.

Fortunately, that battle was now done.

"Temmin, lad," Buz called out.

"Are you okay?"

He nodded, rubbing his burned shoulder.

"I'm fine, Captain," he said glancing at his grandsire.

He snorted in amusement.

"A family spat," he proclaimed.

"Nothing more."

Rufo barked at his honor brother, he remained concerned.

Temmin did not blame him.

The repair yard was a mess, broken machines lay everywhere.

Temm looked at his friend.

"Rufo, Captain," he called out to his shipmates, "May I present my grandfather. Gnar of House Vokai."

The old pureblood bowed respectfully.

"Greetings, allies of the Son of my son."

"Temmin?"

He turned, Switch had emerged from the garage, her eyes wide at the destruction that had been wrought in the yard.

The mechanic blinked.

"What? What happened?"

"A test, young lady," Gnar answered, "Nothing more, nothing less."

He smiled proudly.

"Temmin passed."

The half-blood snorted at that.

Good to know, he thought.

Rufo and the others lowered their weapons and made their way back to town. Leaving Temmin, Switch, and Gnar alone.

His Grandsire raised his hands, moving the broken machines with the Force.

"I've made a bit of a mess, I'm afraid," he said to Switch.

"I will clean it up, I promise."

She nodded, still not entirely sure what happened.

Temmin frowned.

He was still not sure himself.

His woman turned to his grandfather, a smile on her face.

"You are here a bit late, sir. We tend to be nocturnal here on Death. We sleep during the heat of the day."

"Something I will remember," Gnar responded, "Again, you have my apologies for the interruption."

The mechanic shrugged.

"Well we're all awake now. I…I made some caf if anyone wants some."

Gnar smiled.

"Caf? Ah, I have missed having a good strong cup of caf. Our supply on the colony ran out a few months ago.

He bowed again.

"I would love a cup, my dear."

Switch smiled, and motioned him forward. Gnar followed retrieving his gray hooded robe.

Temmin stood in the yard, the various aches and pains of the duel coming back now that his adrenaline was no longer flowing. He could feel the blood running down his back, he would need to get the cut looked at.

Moments ago, he and his grandsire had been trying to kill each other, and now…they would be sitting down over a cup of caf.

He shook his head.

Old bloods, he thought with a sense of annoyance.

Still…

His eyes narrowed.

His grandfather was not a man who did things foolishly. If he had come, if he had sought Temmin out…

…he must have had a good reason.

Temmin followed after Switch and his Grandsire.

Something had drawn the old man here…

…he didn't think he was going to like hearing what it was.

He remembered his dream, the dark hand, and Avaryss' cold voice.

Something is coming, he knew.

He knew…

…and was afraid.