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iliumheightnights · 4 years ago

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We Have A Jedi [20] | Peter Parker x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male Reader, Tony Stark x Son Reader

Summary: (M/N) and Peter are settling into their new relationship with ease. However the Stark boy can feel whatever he’s been worried about is getting closer.

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Read from the beginning

…

“So yeah...He’s in prison now and the bank is safe.”

(M/N) listened as Peter finished up telling him about his latest crime fighting endeavor. The two were in Tony’s lab, Peter was upgrading his suit while (M/N) tinkered away at T3. Bwoop. “T3 says good job,he thinks you'd make a great jedi.” The droid did a little happy dance. “Hey watch it! I still have a wrench in you.” The droid stopped at that. Peter let out a laugh at the interaction. “Hey be nice to him! Thank you T3, I think I’d make a good jedi too.”

Peter went back to his suit but his eyes caught something. “Hey what’s this?” He walked over to the container and began looking through it. “Oh, that’s just a project I’ll start someday.” Peter continued to look through it. “It’s all just...scrap? Is this part of you dad’s old suit? And are these...captain america’s leather straps? What exactly are you planning to make?” Peter looked back over to his boyfriend who finished up his work on the droid. “It’s a surprise...and going to be for emergencies only. I still don’t have all the parts anyways.”

“What else are you missing?” (M/N) only put a finger to his mouth. “It’s a surprise.” Before Peter could say anything else Tony walked in. “There’s my favorite boys, dinner’s ready. You staying Peter?” Peter nodded at the older Stark man and Tony caught sight of the box. “Ah! I see you’ve found the mystery box of crap. I’m not exactly sure what he’s planning to do with that but it has scraps of all the avengers in there.” (M/N) stood up from T3 and walked over grabbing the box. “Yes, and it’s important so please keep your hands off.” He playfully glared at them before putting the box away. “Alright. Dinner?”

…

The sound of blaster fire returned to him. For a while it had seemed like the dreams, the visions, had left him. But tonight proved otherwise. Once again the colors purple and gold flashed. “Keep fighting!” The fighting seemed even more chaotic than it had been. The sounds of explosions and smell of fire filled his senses, it was like he was back in the middle of the war.

The landscape around him changed from the darkness of a void to a cityscape. It was the same domed city from all the other times, at first it was everything was normal and then with a flash it was on fire. “You’re too late.” (M/N) recognized that voice, it was one he hadn’t heard in a long time. He turned to where the voice was and looked the Sith in his red eyes. Kren. “There is only one victory here...and it doesn’t belong to either of us.”

With another explosion the sith was gone. “What’s going on?” (M/N) said aloud. The dreams had never gone like this before, never showing Kren, but he wasn’t the only one it would show. “(M/N)?” He turned to the familiar face and saw Peter. The boy stood there looking confused as the battle raged on behind him. Another voice entered his mind, the one from before. “You should have gone for the head.” There was a bright light and then (M/N) watched as Peter seemed to dissolve. “(M/N)-” He tried to run after the boy but couldn’t reach him before he was completely gone. That’s when he noticed how the fighting had once more gone quiet and all around him ashes littered the landscape.

He felt a presence in front of him. Looking up he saw him. Revan.

“It has begun.”

…

(M/N) woke up with a gasp. He took in a deep breath before pulling on some pajamas. “Mr.(M/N). Are you alright? I monitored your vitals rising, are you distressed?” (M/N) stepped out of his bed and walked over to T3. “Yes, but I’m alright. Friday don’t record anything in this room until I say so alright? I have something private to do.” The A.I did as he requested and he woke up T3. Bwoop? “T3, hey buddy. I need you to help me record a message.

…

Thanks to the dreams (M/N) wasn’t able to go back to sleep and now he was barely staying awake in class. He felt his eyes beginning to close on him. “I’m sorry Mr.Rogers am I not interesting to you?” (M/N) didn’t respond. “Mr.Rogers!” That got his attention and he saw the entire class looking at him. For a moment he forgot he was under Steve’s name here. “Sorry sir, didn’t get any sleep last night...but I agree with you being boring.” The class laughed but the teacher didn’t seem pleased. “Detention after school.” (M/N) shrugged but put his head back down. With what happened last night and the things he’s faced, detention didn’t mean anything to him.

Finally the end of the day came and (M/N) quickly left his classroom. Normally he would stop and wait for Peter and Ned, but he wasn’t feeling it today. He’d apologize to them later. He was moving down the hallway, pushing past people when he felt their presence. “(M/N)! Hey, what’s up? You normally always wait for us.” Ned asked, Peter on the other hand looked worried. “(M/N)? Babe you okay?” (M/N) just kept looking ahead as he moved. “No I’m not.” Then Ned spoke up again. “If it’s about detention don’t sweat it! Peter and I can wait for you if you-”

“It’s not that Ned. I just...don’t feel good.”

He turned the corner to exit the building but Principal Morita stood in his way. “Mr.Rogers. I’ve heard some things from some teachers and heard you had detention. My office.” (M/N) let out a frustrated groan before waving his hand and walking past the principal. “You don’t need to talk to me. I’m free to go and don’t have to go to detention.” The principal fell into a daze. “I don’t need to talk to you. You don’t need to go to detention.” Ned was in shock of what he just saw but besides him Peter was worried about what was making his boyfriend tick.

The two boys followed him out of the school. “Is someone going to tell me what all that was!? It was like something out of Star Wars!” Ned shouted, (M/N) didn’t stop walking and Peter noticed how he was walking in the opposite direction of Where happy was waiting and knew then something must have been really wrong. “Sorry Ned, I gotta follow him.” Ned only nodded, “Yeah! Just...text me!”

Peter went to follow (M/N), but had lost where his boyfriend had walked off too. “Aw man, where are you?”

(M/N) wasn’t sure where he was going. He wasn’t ready to go home, not ready to see his father, he just wanted to think. He didn’t keep track of the time so who knows how long he actually walked but he found himself in a part of new york where construction work was going on for new buildings. No one was around so it must have been an off day for them. Needing to sit down, he placed his bag on the ground and sat next to it.

He watched as storm clouds gathered in the sky. The wind picked up and a chill creeped into his skin. He wasn’t sure what to do, he knew the visions were telling him something but he wasn’t sure what. Whatever it was telling him...it meant lots of people were going to die, Peter included. He could sense that Peter was getting closer to him and he wasn’t sure what he was going to say to him. The sound of footsteps were getting closer and he couldn’t tell if it was Peter or maybe Tony coming to talk.

“You make this too easy.” It was neither of them. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing up, (M/N) quickly rolled out of the way of a lightning shock. Landing into a fighting position he got a good look at the sith who attacked him. The familiar wicked face of the red twi'lek greeted him. “Talon.”

“In the flesh.” She lunged at him and he dodged out of her lightsabers slashes. He reached for his own, only to realize he no longer had them. “Karabast.” He landed and continued to dodge her slashes. “Oh...what’s wrong? Lose your lightsabers?”

Seeing a weak spot on a pillar above them, (M/N) used the force to bring the next level down on the sith. He then took this chance to gain the advantage and moved into a hiding spot. It was quiet and soon the hum of Talon’s lightsabers were the only noise being made. Soon the sound and smell of rain poured into the construction sight. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Focusing through the force, he pulled another pillar down distracting Talon. He moved out of his hiding spot to another. He had to figure out how he’d fight back. Thanks to his quick movements and loose bars and rocks, (M/N)’s clothes had been torn up pretty good. A quick slash and (M/N) let out a yell as he felt the tip of her saber just skim his arm.

Without much thought, (M/N) used the force to launch himself into the air. He grabbed onto the next floor’s supports and began to climb the building. He could hear Talon close behind, he heard a swirling sound and ducked his head intime as one of her sabers went flying past him and returned to her. He continued to make his way up the construction site, the rain making his footing and grasp slicker.

Of course Talon had made her way to the level he was on as well. “Go on, keep running. I love the chase.” (M/N) was breathing hard, the rain coming down harder now, drenching him. “Where’s your master? Too afraid to face me himself?”

“Oh my master has important things to do. More important than YOU.”

“Aw so that’s why he sent you to deal with me.”

That definitely got her angry. Just as she was about to lunge again, her foot was webbed to the support beam. Spiderman went flying by, landing on another beam. “You know, I KNOW red sabers mean bad guys so I suggest you surrender.” (M/N) felt his heartbeat quicken, normally he would be happy to see Peter but this wasn’t a good thing. Talon let out a snarl before throwing a detached beam at Peter with the force.

Luckily Peter had got out of the way just in time by webbing out of there. “Woah! Close on-” He swung head on into a shock of Talon’s force lightning. “Peter!” He watched as the boy fell down a story but landed...hopefully okay. The sith let out a wicked laugh and cut herself out of the webbing, “Now...back to you!” She swung her blades at (M/N), but before they made impact with his body, he had grabbed her hands.

He pulled her hands down to his level, letting the blades illuminate his face. It was then that Talon quickly lost her smirk as she saw (M/N) with a deep frown himself. She also noticed something else, his eyes were just a bit more yellow then before. (M/N) was tightening his grip on her hands and it wasn’t long before she called out in pain dropping one of her lightsabers.

Using the force he pushed her back, grabbing hold of her dropped saber he let the red illuminate his face again. He couldn’t help it anymore, seeing what she did to Peter, he let all of his anger out. With a yell he brought up the red blade and ran at the sith letting it hit her other one. Red blad clashed with red blade, (M/N) was letting his anger get the best of him and it was showing with how he was gaining the advantage against Talon.

He had pushed her to the end of a support beam, with a quick slash to the beam Talon went falling down. (M/N) quickly cut a rope and went swinging down after her. Talon being the acrobatic that she was, managed to land on her feet. However before she was able to get back into a fighting stance, (M/N) swooped down on her. Brining the red blade down, he slashed her right in half.

It got quiet again after that, only the hum of the lightsaber, the rain and (M/N)’s heavy breathing. “W-what have I done?” He turned off the lightsaber and caught his breath. “Peter.” Remembering his boyfriend he quickly ran to him. Getting down to his boyfriend he saw he was breathing. He pulled off Peter’s mask quickly to properly look at him. “Ugh...What happened? I feel like that time I put a paperclip in the outlet.” (M/N) couldn’t help but laugh at that, he was just relieved to see his boyfriend okay. “We are SO talking about that later. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Peter smiled. “Me too...you. I’m glad you’re okay too. Where'd the red lady go?”

“Dead.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

(M/N) called Happy to come pick them up and to also get the remains of Talon out of the construction site. Happy was...frantic to say the least, first because (M/N) didn’t show up after school and second both boys looked torn up. “What happened?!” (M/N) only shook his head and carried Peter to the car. “Not now, just...get us back to the compound please.” Happy, while still shocked, did what he said and drove them both back. In the back seat, (M/N) held onto Peter like if he let go he’d lose him...which he very possibly could.

Arriving back at the compound Tony was already waiting for them. (M/N) helped Peter out of the car and started taking him to the med bay. “Oh god, What happened?! Are you okay.” He grabbed Peter’s other side and helped carry him in. “I’m fine, Peter I think will be okay, I just want to get him checked out.” Tony looked worried at him. “And you too, you look like you’ve been put through the shredder.”

Not much was said after that, both boys were taken to medical and looked over. Luckily it seemed like both of them had only received minor cuts and bruises. (M/N) was sitting up in the bed he had been placed in, Tony sitting in a chair next to him. “She was a sith.” At that Tony lifted his head at that. “She's dead. I killed her.” (M/N)’s voice was quiet. “I couldn’t let her come after any of you...and she was trying to kill Peter. So I killed her first.” Tony quickly got up from the chair and hugged his son. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did what you had to do.” (M/N) didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he simply hugged his father back.

A little while later, he entered the other medical room where Peter was. “Hey.” Peter was laying in the bed but quickly jumped up upon seeing him. “(M/N)! You’re okay!” He pulled him into a hug and (M/N) couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, you saw me before this. Don’t you remember?” Peter blushed. “Yeah...but I was just worried.” He ran his hands through Peter’s hair. “It’s alright. I’m okay, you’re okay...we’re okay.”

…

That night Peter had stayed at the compound, the doctors and Tony wanted him to stay over to be watched over. They wanted the same for (M/N) but he refused any help saying he was fine. Night had fallen and everyone had gone to sleep, making sure the coast was clear (M/N) entered the lab. Surprisingly, his dad actually wasn’t up for once. Not wanting to risk getting caught, he made his way over to his work bench and pulled out the box from earlier. With the box in tow he made sure to quickly return to his room.

Setting the box on the ground he pulled out Talon’s lightsabers and sat on the ground with them. He placed her lightsaber on the ground and began focusing on the crystal’s within them. He lost himself in his thoughts as her lightsabers loosened up and tore apart until only the Kyber crystals remained. He could hear them calling out to him like his lightsabers before had...but these were different. These were muted, like they were corrupted.

He gripped the crystals, he could feel the power that radiated from them. Closing his eyes, he let the images come to him. At first there was nothing and then he felt cold and images of Kren, Talon and the sith all flashed at him. The scene of the jedi council wanting to erase his mind came to him and he felt...he felt angry. He was quickly getting frustrated and knew his anger was building rather quickly. Then he realized, it was the crystals. The crystals had so much anger and hate in them it was pouring into him.

The images continued to flash at him and he tried his best to hold on. The anger was growing too strong and it was getting harder to focus. As his vision clouded, in the darkness there was a small piece of light. Using all his strength he focused as hard as he could on that small piece of light and finally a new image appeared. Peter. Then like a rolling storm more and more images came flooding into him. The avengers, his mother, Sheyo, Tony. Everything that kept him in the light. Those feelings of anger fell away and all that remained was hope, happiness and love. Opening his eyes, he looked down in his hands and saw that the kyber crystals had changed. They were no longer the angry and corrupted red that the Sith always had, however they were also not the same color he had before in his old lightsabers. They were white. Placing the crystals on the ground, he moved over the box of components and began meditating. After the encounter with Talon, he knew he couldn’t go defenseless anymore he needed new lightsabers. He focused on his friends, his family, the people he needed to protect.

He continued thinking about all of them, as he did the pieces from the box began floating along with the crystals. The sound of clicking and spinning was heard but (M/N) continued to meditate. The crystals became encased by the new lightsaber hilts being made. When (M/N) opened his eyes he saw two new lightsabers, all made from parts of the avengers suits and gear. Most noticeable was his dad’s old armor fragments as the outer shell of them. Grabbing hold of the sabers he activated them and bright white blades shot out.

“I’ll be ready for whatever’s coming.”

…

Peter woke up and walked to (M/N)’s room. Before he even knocked on the door Friday spoke to him. “Mr.(M/N) is in the training room Peter.” Peter stopped and wondered what he was doing there. “Thanks Fri.” With that he walked to the training room.

Seeing the simulator was active, Peter entered the observation room and lost his breath as he caught sight of (M/N). His boyfriend was in the simulation with two new white lightsabers fighting the computer generated enemies. “I’m not sure if this is because of yesterday or if there’s something he isn’t telling us.” Peter looked over and saw Tony sitting in a chair watching the boy fight. “What do you mean?” “It’s been two years and he hasn’t had his sabers and now...now he has new ones. I”m not sure if it’s because of that sith you fought yesterday and he just wants a defense...or if he’s planning on leaving again.”

Peter felt his heat drop a bit. He wasn’t wanting (M/N) to leave, but he also knew his boyfriend wanted to help people and would eventually return to the war he had told him about. The simulator shut off and (M/N) deactivated his sabers. Grabbing a towel he wiped the sweat off his head before leaving the simulator, Peter went to speak to him. “(M/N)! Hey, I saw you in the simulator. You looked good. When did you get new lightsabers?”

(M/N) smiled as he saw Peter. “Hey. Glad you enjoyed the show.” He lifted up one of his lightsabers. “I made them last night. I figured I needed some extra protection in case more Sith come our way.”

“That makes sense.” (M/N) saw Peter’s hesitation. “Want to hold it?” At that Peter’s eyes widened and he gave a genuine smile. “Wait...really? Yes! I-I mean I’d love to.” (M/N) only shook his head and handed Peter the saber. “Wow, it’s heavier than I thought it would be.” “Well yeah, it’s still a weapon.” He watched as Peter looked it over, running his hand over the casing. “I made it from all the components in that box you were curious about. See my dad’s armor there. The grip is made from Steve’s old leather straps. There’s more too, however I didn’t have anything to add for you sadly. You didn’t have any components or anything.” Peter smiled. “I’m going to fix that.”

“Isn’t that sweet.” Both boys turned to the new voice and (M/N) quickly recognized the Mandalorian. “I’m guessing your boyfriend?”

(M/N) didn’t reach for his lightsabers, he wasn’t a threat. “Ven. A pleasure to see you again...what are you doing here?” The familiar mandalorian had two other Mandalorians beside him.

Ven frowned. “I need your help.”

...

Ven and the other two mandalorians had returned to their ship leaving (M/N) with his father and Peter. There was some tension in the air but they all knew what had to happen. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need to do this, Ven helped me and I need to help him. Especially if Kren is involved. I need to put an end to him once and for all.”

Tony only nodded and pulled him into a hug. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. I kind of...figured something like this was coming since you made those new laser swords this morning.” He pulled back and smiled at him. “Just come back in one piece okay?” (M/N) nodded before looking at Peter. Peter was smiling and (M/N) noticed that he was holding something behind his back. “So...you know how you made your lightsabers out of the gear? Well I wanted to be a part of it...just different.” He pulled out his hands and handed him a sash...it looked quickly made with a simple needle and thread. “I made it out of my old spiderman suit. I don’t really wear it anymore and figured you could wear it and think of me.” (M/N) quickly pulled Peter in a hug. “I love it.” Pulling back he took the sash and put it on. “What do you think?” Peter smiled and held up a thumb. “Looks good.” Then it got quiet and before Peter could say anything (M/N) pulled him into a kiss. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

“Just come back soon.” Then with that (M/N) gave one last look to both him and his dad before moving towards Ven’s ship. Peter and Tony watched as he left. “He’ll come back to us...right?” Peter asked. “He always has.” Tony said those words, but something felt off about them. As for (M/N), he couldn’t help the feeling he got that it would be the last time he saw them for a long time.

…

Are you ready fam? The Siege of Mandalore begins! Now’s the time when everything changes. So buckle up and get ready.

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crqstalite · 5 years ago

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SHADOW OF THE SITH, Ch. 8

Fair warning, this chapter is primarily exposition because I haven't had many Naji focused chapters. She's not a side character, and deserves some character building just as much as Tri'ama does. It doesn't pertain too much to the story in the end, but some cute Felix/Naji moments in there too.

NAJI._YAVIN_IV.

The coalition's atmosphere is strained midst the rains of Yavin. Heavily strained. Whether it's because Darth Marr and Satele have two opposing views on how to best deal with Revan that they hide under diplomatic insults, the little glances here and there that Theron and the Wrath keep sharing but then denying one another, Darth Nox's unneeded strategic thoughts that would surely get them all killed and Whyatt's need to be anywhere but here, Naji is very sure that the coalition is not getting off on the right foot.

Personally, she thinks Yavin should've only consisted of the four that had met on Manaan. At least it would've been a great deal calmer, and figures more would've gotten done by now. She appreciated Whyatt's hand in the war against the Revanites, the Defender of Tython was calmer and more composed than that of Nox, but he was also young, barely 22. He'd just dealt with the Emperor's Voice alongside the Hero of Tython, Tonee Atiya, and had been unceremoniously swept up into the Revanite business nearly immediately afterwards when Tonee had disappeared without a trace. The poor boy was still reeling from the loss of his Master. He had better relations with Satele than most of them did (bitterly she remembers Theron is her son, but Whyatt had known her a great deal longer than the SIS agent had), and she would pay good money to see them fighting together. They had similar strategic ideas and talked throughout the entire meeting as if they were one and the same (meekly Naji added her own from their excursion on Rishi), though curiously Theron stayed quiet on their side of the meeting except for small additions here and there.

Nox and Marr, stars they were very similar. Where the woman had met the Sith lord, she isn't sure and is afraid to ask of how they'd become aligned on this mission. Darth Nox (or as they were introduced, Mierrio Revel-Kallig) is extremely pale, her narrow eyes a shade of yellow she had yet to see from even the Wrath, and the cold, calculating way she glances at Naji gives her the chills. Dark hair accentuated with gold hair clips frame her high cheekbones, and she wears black robes. A tight-black flight suit with a gold belt and black robe over her arms, the woman carries a lavender doublesaber at her hip, purple lightning crackling at her fingertips. Nox is high class, she won't deny her that.

At least Lana seemed sure-footed here, adding in where she could. Lana was in her element among the other Sith, sending their forces wherever need be to accomplish the mission at hand. The three worked like a well-oiled machine until they clashed with the Republic. Then, it was all out war at the table, insults being thrown, basically fighting but the kind you did with eloquent words instead of yelling.

Tri'ama, though, was very clearly conflicted with Theron (she also bickers with Nox, and it's not friendly from what she's overheard). It was written all over her presence, though most of it was covered by a black hood and her respirator. The woman was constantly shifting, pacing around her side of the table as she silently observed. Every once in a while she lifts her head to where Theron was working, datapad in hand. Then, glance back down at the table as if she wasn't thinking about him. Theron would then do the same, fingers stilling on the datapad as he wistfully (that's too pretty a word for what's going on here, but it would have to do for the time being) looks at her when she isn't looking at him. Naji has a lot of questions, such as what had happened in between Rishi and now to have caused such behavior. Though she's sure they didn't so much as suspect, she had been privy to emotions that made her shiver to her core. The Consular wasn't as blind as the Wrath made her out to be. No one just blindly rushed into enemy lines to rescue someone they didn't care about personally. No one stuck around a planet they admitted to despising for someone they hated. There's longing written all over her force signature, even if she runs into a wall trying to delve deeper. Theron's more careful with his thoughts, and she isn't so much as able to to even find a single emotion more than annoyance.

Maybe she's just reading the room wrong. Maybe they were trying to avoid suspicion by Satele or something or the other, putting up a front. It wasn't her business to be prying into their...relationship. Whatever Theron and Tri'ama wanted to get up to was all on them. She had bigger concerns. She wouldn't go as far as to say she wasn't even a tad bit concerned about the two though, and her conversation with Theron over her holocom while she and Tri'ama were putting up sensors confirmed that something was amiss. With Tri'ama or with Lana, she didn't ask. The fact he'd wanted her to slice into the sensor and spy on the Empire was unsettling, if she's being honest. It didn't mean she didn't assist him though, but she regrets it now. Hopefully none of their extremely important secrets became privy to the Republic.

This isn't your mystery to solve (as frustrating as it is), she reminds herself while watching the Wrath hack at a Yavin beast from afar with increasing fury as it refuses to bow down to her or even attempt to run, zoning out as Theron asks her a question she doesn't catch, They're both adults, and you barely know them as it is.

"What're you thinking about?" Felix asks, dressed down, as she opens her eyes from meditation. Not a deep one, not enough to be startled by his arrival, but she's still a little disoriented as her eyes refocus on her bedroom. Everything with Revan was throwing her off and real meditation had been hard to come by for months now. To say her mind was like the holonet would be an understatement - it wouldn't shut off no matter what she did.

"Everything. And surprisingly, nothing." She answers, taking his hand to pull herself up from her meditation mat. Her hair is still damp from being out in Yavin's wildlife (though she'd blow dried it when she returned), but unlike most other soldiers, she was lucky enough to return to the Polaris for her downtime. It's warmer than the jungle, and more importantly it has her crew on it. Zenith and Bisauur have returned from Balmorra, she and Nadia have been more in tune than ever, Tharan has been tinkering away for days in the cargo hold with a promising project, and Qyzen is back from his hunt, "I was only waiting on you to return."

Felix, oh her darling Felix is back in her arms. All is right in the world again, and his soft kisses are worth all the time she spends fighting the ancient evil. All she can do these days is wait impatiently until she can return home. It's out of place in the middle of their campaign, but the crew of the Polaris will always stay with her long enough to watch a silly holo and get the responsibilities of the day prior off her shoulders. Felix is always there until she wakes up, his auburn eyes always twinkling whenever he sees her as they lie in bed, tangled in each other's arms. Somedays, she laughs to herself, it's too cold to leave his embrace early in the morning, though she dealt with much worse when she first met him, "Don't push yourself too hard out there." Felix reminds her when she eventually pulls away from him, a smile on his face, "Won't have any strength left to deal with everything else."

"Might as well be a Jedi with that astute observation." She smiles, and he chuckles at her joke, "And you know I don't push myself anymore than need be, the Sith make me."

"Don't like them?" He asks as she makes to pull her robes off and put them away neatly into their shared storage locker. She raises as a quizzical eyebrow, Felix knows the answer to that question better than anyone after everything they'd been through, and it's a resounding no, "Thought we were supposed to be working with them."

"I never said I wasn't going to. Simply that I found myself being continually annoyed by the Sith and their shenanigans." Naji has a hard time getting her hands back to the zipper keeping her undersuit in place as she says this with disdain, upper arms sore from the fighting earlier in the day, but Felix is quick to pull it down for her with practiced ease. She leans into his warm touch and sighs. He's effectively distracting her from pulling it off by hugging her around the waist and laying his chin down on her shoulder, "Nox especially. She's tormenting Whyatt, trying to scare the Force out of him and off the planet. I don't know what Satele was thinking, bringing him onboard this mission."

"The Defender of Tython, Whyatt Grace?" Felix asks, letting her go as she softly struggles out of his grip with a grin as she slips a t-shirt on, shimmying into a pair of relaxed leggings and out of her boots. Felix didn't often remember the Jedi she kept as company, and she's grateful that Whyatt was among the ones he did. He'd tries so much to understand the Jedi side of her life, and she's more than happy he didn't brush it off in favor of ignorant bliss, "Wasn't he just recognized for defeating the Emperor?"

"His Voice. Not the actual Emperor, that's the one we're chasing down here on Yavin. Poor kid's been through more than I have, and he needs a break before he literally breaks. Satele, I think, brought him out of spite because word was that Darth Nox was arriving to fight the Emperor alongside the Wrath and it would've left the Republic always in the favor of the Empire's choices. I understand some of her reasoning, but Master Catharii would've been a better choice."

"The Miraluka we met back on Voss?" The man had been a curious, temporary, addition to the crew to help with other matters within the Rift Alliance while she hunted down the Children of the Emperor. Catharii (preferred Cat) was a few years older than she was, and more knowledgeable about a lot of things. He didn't laugh when she asked questions, and in fact continued to tutor her even after Syo had been returned to Tython to be rehabilitated. Naji appreciated his mentorship, and she nods in response with a wistful look in her eyes, "Suppose he'd be better than a Jedi who needs therapy."

"He'd be more willing as well. I don't know the full extent of Nox's powers yet, and while Whyatt is extremely powerful, a more experienced Jedi would be the better option here." She sighs, flopping back onto the bed unceremoniously, Felix giving her a knowing look and crawling in beside her after shucking off his boots, "It seems like there's so much to do. I should be able to do it all, keeping a least a small sense of balance between these factions. I ran the Rift Alliance, it feels like it shouldn't be all that different. I should be able to keep them in check and stay the diplomat. But still, they bicker and bicker and bicker over old politics and I'm afraid Revan's going to hunt us down himself if nothing gets done."

Felix is quiet for a moment as she thinks to herself. He takes her hand in his as she curls into him, pressed up against him as her mind slows its panic, "Naj. You can't take the galaxy on without help. Yes, you helped the Rift Alliance, but don't forget that you needed help yourself. I remember you'd been so stressed, running all over the place trying to make everyone happy. I admired you not because you tried keeping everything together for so long, but because you put your heart and soul into it. You cared so much for people you didn't even know, tried to get me, Zenith and Nadia settled in even though you didn't know us." He brushes a curl of hair away from her face, his warm palm pressed against her cheek, "Maybe this is on a bigger scale. I can't say, 'just accept help' because I know it doesn't come easy to you. Just, maybe don't forget that there are people who want to help you with this. Like the man you married years ago."

A grin crosses Naji's lips by the small reference to their marriage on Tython. Felix is right, and he's been her biggest supporter even through the darkest of times. Not everything is her responsibility, but it doesn't mean she doesn't still struggle with it. At the best of times, it feels like her hands stop shaking for a few moments and she can enjoy the quiet, but at the worst of times she can't be around other people without feeling like a disappointment. Naji had always been an anxious child before she'd arrived on the Jedi homeworld, but it was increased by the trials being cut early (Naji worried she wouldn't be taught enough to be worth much), her Master nearly dying (Naji worried she would die and then she'd be alone all over again), the fate of the other Jedi resting on her shoulders as she hunted down Parkanas (Naji worried she would fail and the Jedi would fall), the rise of the Rift Alliance (Naji worried that though she'd been raised a diplomat, that she'd ultimately fail because she wasn't a people person), and the hunting of the Children of The Emperor (Naji worried she wouldn't be able to find them all before they wreaked havoc on the galaxy).

Meditation with Nadia always seemed to help (though at first Naji believed she was only putting her anxiety onto another person; it wasn't), the occasional therapeutic conversation with Zenith (he was good company and offered good advice), and of course, spending quiet time with her husband. Her anxiety hadn't been erased, in fact her hands were shaking now as she pushes herself up to turn the lights in their room off. Naji's worried, she's always worried about something. Something going horribly wrong, someone dying because of her. It's a horrible feeling at the best of times, and she feels like she's losing herself to the void. Sometimes, she wonders if it would've been better to stay solitary and unmarried, so Felix didn't have to do his own worrying about her. It's hard not to feel like a burden to him, no matter how much he says he loves her no matter what.

She drifts off into a dreamless sleep. When she wakes again, Felix is there.

He's always there.

They get dressed together, the process slowed by small kisses here and there over the other's exposed skin. The Polaris wakens with her, caf enjoyed by all as everyone gets ready for the day's adventures. One forehead kiss for Nadia, a cheek kiss for Bisauur. Luck for Qyzen's hunt, a half hug for Tharan, a wave for Holiday, kind words for Zenith. And of course, one lingering kiss for her soldier.

"Theron trusted me, and I don't think he ever will again." Naji is about to leave the staging area to head out into the troop encampment, when she can overhear the Sith Lord talking to someone. It's not her business, as she's found most things tend not to be when dealing with the Empire and Sith, but at the risk of seeming nosy, she stands behind a tree, masks her presence, and hopes Lana won't sense her.

"I won't say what you did wasn't wrong, had he not been as strong as you knew him to be, or lapsed in his mental strength, you could've killed him, Lana. Then you'd be out a spy, and if the Wrath is as infatuated with him as you say, you would've lost her as well. Not to mention Satele." The voice isn't distinctly Imperial, in fact it sounds Republic. The other woman's voice drops from a faintly accusatory tone to a softer one, and she sighs, "But you did accomplish something that lead to victory, and it's not like he can hate you forever."

"I know you're right, but the sense of betrayal Theron must feel..." Lana's voice has a sad tone to it. It's surprising the way she talks about it, Naji had previously believed...well that Lana didn't care much for it. Then again, there's always two sides to the same coin and it seemed as if Lana didn't differ from it, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel any remorse for him after what I did."

"I know, I know. But all you can do now is try to be the best version of yourself that you can be. If, and only if, he calls on you for something, try and provide it to the best of your ability. Trust in this galaxy isn't doled out lightly, and it sounds like your agent isn't exempt from this rule either." Something crashes in the background of the connection, and the woman swears in what she thinks is fluent Huttese, "Sorry Lana, but I've gotta go. Damn ship is falling apart beneath my feet and I swear Corso is going to get himself killed one of these days..." The woman chuckles quietly, Naji can barely pick it out, "I'll see you soon, love."

"Be careful, it won't be long now." Lana answers, a smile in her voice, "Take care, love."

And with that, it's quiet as the holocom is shut off. Naji makes to leave, she's already heard more of the conversation than she intended to, before she can sense Lana's presence nearly right behind her. Naji instinctively puts her hands up in fright, whirling around to face the blonde Sith, "What are you doing here, Barsen'thor?"

"If you're wondering, I didn't hear anything. I was just going to leave, is all." Her heart is racing again, thumping beneath her rib cage as her breath grows short, "I just saw you talking to someone is all as I passed by."

Maybe because she's scared, but Naji doesn't realize at first that Lana isn't particularily upset with her. Or maybe she's calculating the best way to get away with murder. Naji's never been good at figuring out Sith.

Yes, Naji had lied about how long she'd been there and she feels bad about it, but her curiousity is also fighting for dominance. In the recesses of her mind, she wonders what kind of life Lana leads outside the coalition. She knows she worked for Arkous at some point, but after that she doesn't know much about the pragmatic Sith Lord. Should she ask? Naji hasn't shared much about her own life with Lana, and figures their already strained acquaintanceship shouldn't be tested at this very moment and holds her tongue.

"It's no one important." Lana answers, her voice a hard monotone compared to the tone she used with the woman on the holo, her stature rigid and amber eyes hardened, "Did you need something?" She asks, effectively closing off that topic to her. That's fair, yet again it wasn't her business to press for unnecessary information that didn't pertain to their mission. She hasn't yet told anyone about Felix and hers relationship (she believes Satele is the only one privy to that information), so she's not extremely pushy about finding out about the woman Lana had been talking to.

"Not at this very moment, no." Naji begins, hoping to get away from the awkward situation, before reconsidering, "Do you by any chance know what's going on with Tri'ama?"

Lana looks surprised by the question, "I don't know what you mean by that. Is there something wrong with her?"

"I...it's hard to describe. Don't you just...feel it? Feel the tension in the air? The Wrath is apprehensive about everything, and more prone to aggression than usual. It's nearly suffocating whenever I'm near her. I know it's not really your concern, being busy with everything else and all, but I thought maybe...because you both were from the same faction you'd know something." It sounds bad now that she says it, assuming all of the Imperials were conspiring with one another, but she figures if anyone knows, it's Lana. Or Vette. But Naji doesn't know Vette, she'd rather their relationship didn't start out by her asking weird questions about the Sith Lord she kept company with, "Sorry, that sounded rude." She mumbles.

Lana muses for a moment. Offense isn't taken by the way she considers the question, but she looks genuinely curious now, "I understand your concern now that I think on it. I'm not privy to the Wrath's presence, it was rather hard to detect even before now, but she has been a wild card as of late. The fury I felt the other day when you both returned from setting up the sensors..."

"It's stifling, isn't it?" Naji asks, remembering how it felt to be around her constantly. It nearly smothers her own presence, and if she's feeling strongly about something, it makes her feel as if she's seeing the world through the Wrath's eyes than her own. If the Wrath is angry about something, Naji can feel herself getting ticked off at every little thing someone does. If the Wrath is in one of her lonely moods, Naji feels her own sort of longing for her small family and stars forbid the Wrath is apprehensive about something. It only increases her anxiety tenfold. At least, until the Wrath leaves the immediate area and she can think on her own again, "Doesn't it bother you?"

"No." Lana answers, looking rather confused, "It was little more than a passing feeling I felt off of her. It's the first real emotion I've felt off of her since we landed. I'm surprised you had such a reaction to it. To put it simply, it's a tad odd you would have such an ability to sense it all, especially if it's affecting you directly."

"Oh." So it was an adverse reaction. If Lana hadn't sensed it, and was still assuming Tri'ama had shut herself off to everyone else, Naji was really going mad. There was a reason she already didn't like Yavin and quickly made a mental note to visit Tython for some cleansing when their mission was done, "Never mind then."

Lana bids her a clipped farewell. It will still be a while before she and the Wrath are due head out to the Temple to deal with the Imperial guard, and Felix is probably assisting where he can with the Republic troops in the meantime. If her husband was one thing, he was a solider at heart, and she didn't need to go distract him from what he was doing. She'd have him all to herself later anyways. Naji could wait a few hours.

As much as she doesn't want to.

Yavin is beautiful, but the Force is strong here as well. Maybe that's what's driving her and the Wrath's emotions up the wall, rather than whatever's attempting to haunt her. She wanders about the jungle nearby the staging area, picking a bright pink flower out from the bush it rested on. Its coloring is beautiful in the dim light of the rainy morning, and she'd appreciate it more if the reason for them being here wasn't so dark. It's only then that she wonders what would've happened had she not been sent to the Jedi. Naji has faint memories of growing up on a city world, though where she's unsure. Her records are locked away somewhere, and those memories are always of her mother. Blonde, piercing blue eyes that always had a joke behind them. Naji's not naive enough to not realize just how young she remembered her mother being, barely the age that she is now. Frowning, she wonders what her mother would think of her today. It had been a short three years before she was given away, but infantile memory loss hadn't affected her as badly as she'd first assumed. Her mother had been kind, a bright smile on her painted lips, always. Naji couldn't think of a moment she'd seen her frowning.

She twists the pink flower in her fingers, admiring it before deciding to put it behind her ear. The frustrated presence grows nearer, and she steels herself for the overload of emotions as the Wrath stalks nearer. Her new armor set was a surprise, fully covering her this time. All lighter armor, black. Other than wisps of blonde hair, only her amber eyes were visible on her face.

"Are we ready to head out?" Naji asks, a light grimace disguised as a smile on her face.

Naji is horrified for two reasons when they return to the staging area.

One, because she wonders if all Imperials are eating out the Emperor's palm like the deranged Imperial Guard. Naji personally wasn't religious, but even she can't comprehend how the Empire would've dropped so low to present themselves as willing servants of such a mad figure. She'd been so fearful she hadn't even begun to sense their presences as the three leapt on her, the Wrath, Vette and Felix. Her first thought was force shields for everyone, but Commandent Iven (as she'd learned) proved to be smarter than she gave him credit for. He'd managed to push through her other three allies and target her directly, and as crazy as he was, he was horribly aggressive. No matter how much she force cloaked herself, he'd find her again and swing at her.

The other two guards went down faster, but the others remained distracted as she tried fighting him off from a distance, picking out pieces of the old building that wouldn't crash the whole structure on them and chucking them at him to slow him down. Naji had then been cornered, and he's about to slash at her with his own saber staff. Bracing for the worst, she's surprised at the turn of events as the Wrath slides neatly into place to hold him off at the last moment, blood red sabers igniting his pale face. Naji effectively force shoves him away, and the four of them sustain mild injuries but are able to disarm him to the point they could get the Imperial guards that had rushed in to bring him back to base.

The second reason being the burning on her shoulder that she simply can not get rid of the whole ride back. It's an aching, burning pain that she can't shake no matter how much force healing she pours onto it, not even relieving the aches. It feels like it's broken, but as Felix prods over it, they both agree it's not even out of place. However, watching the Wrath closely during the heated decision of how to interrogate the former Commandent, she's favoring the same arm. The shoulder armor in question is dented past recognition, rips in the underlying fabric in some places leads Naji to believe that the Wrath had ended up in a similar situation.

But how?

Naji intends to ask once they've been dismissed from the table, but a nod from Lana to the woman in question beckons her away. Theron tells her to follow him, and she does so. A little while away, all four stand in a ragged semicircle, Felix telling he'll meet her back on the Polaris when she was done.

"Is there something wrong?" Naji asks, standing up straight and trying to roll her shoulder forward. It takes a moment for the pain subsides, but she's trying her best to keep a straight face, "Something Satele and Marr shouldn't know?"

"Wrong? How about this entire operation is unsettling." Theron responds. Clearly, the word relates to him just a little too much on a personal level right at that moment. Given, it makes sense after the most recent mission. (Tri'ama is also standing as far away from him as she can get, an odd choice out of sight of everyone else.)

"According to Iven, there's a device inside the temple they had hoped to use to bring the Emperor back." Lana fills in. Even she sounds disturbed, and Naji's wondering if her chills are justified now. The Emperor is on Yavin anyways, the Republic's...the Jedi's age old enemy. The atmosphere even is beginning to invade her senses, and it's not a welcome feeling, "It's a weapon designed to eradicate all living things on the moon, save for those safely inside the temple."

"Oh, I should like to see that! Just imagine!" C2-D4 sarcastically says, eyes blinking ominously in the darkness. The droid has one thing going for it, and that's a mind of it's own. How had Jakarro managed to come across such a complex droid?

"D4. Button it." Theron responds, mirroring what she's sure everyone present is thinking themselves. Consequently, the droid doesn't respond.

"The device appears to be Sith in origin. That's how the Emperor knew about it; why he chose to retreat to Yavin IV." Lana continues, ignoring the droid and Theron. Damn these Sith and all their apoctalyptic weapons, hellbent on destroying the galaxy as they all knew it.

"Iven's team was going to activate the device; use the loss of life to restore the Emperor." Tri'ama fills in, her uninjured arm on her hip, "Blazes, does no one see the how the galaxy will be destroyed if we keep letting the Emperor get away with these things?"

"I can assure you, some of us do." Lana says, "But yes, and now Revan plans to use it for the same purpose. If we can't stop him, we're all dead." Her voice quiets, lowering her eyes from the rest of the group. That message sinks in fast, Lana's right (as she's typically proven to be since Naji met her). If it wasn't urgent before, it is now. And Jakarro airs the same sentiment.

"Then let's get moving." Tri'ama nearly growls, readjusting her shoulder, "What's holding us back?"

"Weapons? Other necessary resources? A plan?" Naji questions, an eyebrow raised, and the Wrath's eyes swivel to meet hers in annoyance. Naji holds herself back from asking her if she's right or not -- because she is. Later she realizes that her sarcastic response is partially her own annoyance with the Wrath and her violent tendencies, and partially because the Wrath is having another one of her moments that overloads Naji's senses.

"Iven clued us in on a series of complex locks that will get us access to the temple. They're our next objective." Theron informs them. He seems to dismiss them all for a moment, an intangible objective hanging above them all before he sighs, "Lana, Jakarro. Would you mind, we won't be a more than a minute."

Lana doesn't need a second request, and C2-D4 says something else, Jakarro with an annoyed response. Tri'ama hangs back, arms crossed with a pained expression in her eyes. Theron watches Naji for a moment, Tri'ama just as surprised as she makes to heal her shoulder. It's reciprocated well, the tension flowing out of the Wrath's arm as Naji guides it back into place, "Be careful next time, won't you?"

The Wrath has a sort of confused look in her eyes, before nodding. Naji leaves.

BONUS: Theron.

"Look, I know we're not exactly on good terms right now." Theron starts. He's nervous, he'll admit that. Tri'ama has been effectively ignoring him since she arrived on Yavin, and her radio silence is eating at him inside out, "And before you say you know, I know that."

Deep breaths Shan, you're only talking to the Sith Lord who broke you both up before anything got started.

"My line of work, you stare death in the face pretty much all the time. I'm sure you do too." He starts, and she has a look in her eyes that says 'get to the point'. "I'm not in tune with the Force at all, but I don't have to be to feel it: if we can't stop the Revanites, that's over. Everything."

He's genuinely worried for her safety. Yes, she's strong in the Force and to boot, the Emperor's Wrath. But something in her eyes makes him want to take her in his arms and remind her everything is going to be okay.

She considers him for a moment, as if she doesn't understand what he's saying. Tri'ama sighs though, unable to look him in the eyes, "I'm strong enough in the Force for both of us. Revan and his misguided followers don't stand a chance."

"That's what I like to hear. Try not to die, okay? It'd be nice to see you again." He says, falling back into old bantering habits without even realizing it. He immediatly regrets it, and Tri'ama doesn't hide her surprise well, but is quick to turn away from him, black cape flowing behind her without even a response.

Later though, he receives an email late into the night from her reading, "And in the end, I will seek you out among the stars." without anything to follow it up or explain her true intentions. It quickly takes over his thoughts, and he can barely manage to get to sleep that night, still thinking about the woman clothed in black that he'd become infatuated with. Does she still value him? Does she even like him right now?

How had things with Captain Quinn gone?, he finds himself wondering as he turns over.

Great Shan, you managed to get the attention of a cryptic Sith Lord.

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renegade-skywalker · 6 years ago

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Out of the Abyss, Chapter 17

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17: A Bad Feeling

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen (now going by Vale) continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: The deep breath before the plunge... Vale attempts to interrogate the HK claiming to belong to her while Rell reports to Admiral Onasi on the all-too quiet Harbinger as things continue to get stranger.

---

3951 BBY, Nespis VIII, Docking Bay Erebus

“I’ll do you a favor,” Mical breathed as they entered the now-dilapidated docking bay, “I won’t ask how you managed that.”

“Good,” Erebus replied, silencing the droid manning the garage and sending him up in sparks. With another wave of his hand, the loading ramp to his ship descended, and without a word, Mical rushed onto the ship and Erebus right after him.

“In there,” he directed towards the cargo bay once inside. “You’ll find a place for that thing, I’m sure.”

Erebus’ ship was outfitted for the transport of delicate goods, unsure what the Star Forge had use of for a ship like it but thankful he had found one, nonetheless. This ship had been his home for the past few years, and whether he was being chased by his Sith masters or no, he intended on keeping the thing, if he could. But first -

“Where to?” Erebus said from the controls, scrambling, knowing they hadn’t much time. “Where are you headed?”

“You’re being awfully generous,” Mical called ominously from the cargo bay, “How large of a sum do you expect when this is all over?”

“I’m not interested in money,” Erebus spat. “We need to get out of here, fast.”

A ship had blackened the sky upon their escape. Erebus first thought it was the debris from his escape plan clouding the city, but when the dust had cleared and the shadow remained, he afforded himself a glance upward to realize that Nihilus’ resurrected flagship, the Ravager , was in orbit overhead. Somehow, he knew Nihilus hadn’t been after him after what happened on Tatooine. Erebus wasn’t that important to him - only when he delivered a relic of note did Nihilus ever seem to care - but now that he had relics once belonging to Exar Kun, well, maybe now Nihilus might bother trying to find him. And seeing his ship on the same planet sure wouldn’t help.

“I need to get to my crew,” Mical said again, now entering the cockpit, looking over Erebus’ shoulder while he fussed at the navicomputer. “We need to plan a drop off.”

Erebus side-eyed Mical, almost glaring at him.

“As if we have time for that,” he muttered, “Where to? ”

Mical’s mouth opened, as if to answer, but a sharp thrum pierced the air, a shaft of light emerging from nothingness, instantly silencing them both. A flickering silver light cut through the cockpit, dividing Erebus and Mical from the viewscreen. A lightsaber.

“I’m getting tired of this,” Erebus uttered with disdain despite the genuine fear creeping over his bones as his eyes traveled the length of the silver beam to the hilt that created it, and the woman now appearing at its command beside him, close enough to feel her breath on his neck.

“Dantooine,” she said through a shuddered breath, “Plot a course for Dantooine.”

Erebus was about to retort with another witty rejoinder, as a defense mechanism if nothing else, but as the realization struck him his throat grew dry, the words suddenly stilled in his throat, stuck.

In his lapse of response, Mical sputtered to life, logging in the coordinates to Dantooine as if from memory, the navicomputer chiming pleasantly as he finalized their destination. Erebus remained fixed, watching the woman with rapt attention, realizing he knew her, realizing now just how old she’d grown and how much time had passed - her black hair now streaked with grey, her once lively amber eyes now dull, dark and angry. Even her lightsaber had changed, faded from a bright cyan to a pale silver in the din of his salvaged ship. Erebus had had one other Master before Atris, only one other instructor, briefly, before his reassignment as prospective Historian. As if any more pieces of his past needed resurrecting, as if he needed some reminder, some warning of the things to come.

“It’s good to see you again, Master Vash,” he croaked after a moment, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I wish I could say the same, Aiden.”

---

3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Outer Rim Vale

If Vale was good at anything anymore, it was repairing droids. Always had been, always would be. She was good enough that she made a living of it on Tatooine, when milking a living of any kind was near impossible. Good enough that she was often commissioned by Jedi Masters and Knights alike to fix any bugs in the protocol droids roaming the Academy grounds, wherever she happened to be studying. Good enough that Revan once asked her to repair her personal droid, as a joke, just to piss Alek off once. And now, she was repairing a droid that looked an awful lot like that one - an HK, its shining hull the same shape, its eyes set in the same half-malevolent glare - only it was a newer model, silver instead of bronze, and this one had claimed she was its Master.

Shit, don’t call me that Ede, Alek had muttered to her once he had unofficially become her instructor during the second leg of the war, indignant but somewhat amused when she had jokingly called him Master while sparring. We’re friends, right?

Friends. She almost snorted at the thought, with only the half-aware HK intelligence module to ridicule her for it. Asra had been a friend. Darek could have been one - and perhaps could still be a friend, once this was all over. So could Orex, so could Glitch. They reminded her of the people she’d served with alongside on Dxun, aside from the fact that Orex had actually been one of them . Her troops were the closest thing she’d had to a family since Aiden. Perhaps even more so. There’s something about the closeness of the end of the world and its impending immediacy that brings people together, keeps them on the same page… it had brought her and Alek together, at least that’s how she saw it, initially. Until it separated them once they’d become dangerously entwined, and utterly tore them apart.

After a few adjustments, the HK flickered to life, its eyes now aglow in the din of her appointed dormitory aboard the all-too-quiet Harbinger, suspiciously still since the salvage team returned from the frozen wreckage outside, still no news from Rell.

“Greeting: It is a pleasure to see you alive, Master, provided my receptors are not off-focus,” the disembodied head of the HK mumbled as it gurgled to life, its vocabulator no doubt still recovering from the jolt Zaalbar gave it back on Tatooine. “How may I be of assistance?”

“First thing’s first,” Vale began, placing the head on the generously spacious desk on the far side of the room. “I’m not your Master. And second, where the hell did you come from?”

“Pointed Recollection: Why, you purchased me, Master.”

Vale hung her head, already annoyed as she began pacing, thankful the HK wasn’t completely reassembled yet.

“I know that,” she replied, wracking her brain for the memory of the transaction, coming up just a bit too short for her liking, “It was two weeks ago, part of a large shipment if I’m remembering correctly.”

The HK remained silent, but it didn’t counter her claim.

She knew she was, in fact, correct. But it had been a week of busy orders, many customers looking to buy, to sell… only now a part of her realized this was all on purpose. If only she’d thought to bring her shop log along with her before the blast. She’d always made a point of keeping records, regardless of the transaction, and now with everything from the past few days weighing on her brain, her memory felt clouded, leaving her unnervingly unsure. And now she had nothing to weigh her memory against, she’d have to go on gut alone.

“I take it ownership occurred when the transaction was completed,” Vale stated, tentative, anxious to hear how the droid would phrase things. If HK models were known for anything, it was for their unique choice of words, which is why Revan had one specifically designed to kill on sight but only after cracking wise.

“Assertion: That is correct… Master .”

Vale let out a hollow laugh, unsure if the droid was being smart with her or if this one was naturally annoying. Protocols of any variety were the most challenging to crack, especially when ancient, but fascinating nonetheless. Their developed personalities could sometimes be traced to their wiring, a history of damages and repairs either written into their code or evident in the state of their plating if it hadn’t been completely replaced. But often there were missing pieces, ticks and traits that could only be explained as having been acquired over time, gleaned from experience and some sort of artificial evolution. But this HK model was new. She’d seen its innards, some of which were still strewn across her neatly-made bed on the other side of the room, and they were immaculate. Before the damage Zalbaar had done to the thing, it wasn’t likely this droid had seen action of any kind, at least nothing outside a factory…

She’d gotten lucky in the past month… more new droids than usual, which was something, since Vale had never actually seen any new droids in Anchorhead at all. A few were sold to her at the beginning of the month after a ship crashed out in the Dune Sea, likely spilling half of its contents across the sand like a bread trail to the city. Several scavengers had come in asking for more coin than they were worth, but Vale liked to think she could tell who needed the money more than the others. She still did business as routinely as usual, offering only the fairest price she could afford if she wanted to stay in business, if she wanted to eat that week, if she wanted to pay the cooling bills. But the other set of shiny new droids she recalled were sold by a young woman, a Zeltronian desperate to get off-world, willing to part with all of her belongings if it meant she could make it on the soonest shuttle. Whether she was a plant or one of the myriad of salvagers taking advantage of the crash was responsible for this planted HK, Vale was yet unsure, but she knew the answer was close somehow.

“So what kind of service can I expect from you, as your… Master?”

“Humble Explanation: As a premier-model HK-series protocol droid I am equipped to assist in a number of personal tasks, whether it be a question of translating binary sequences or nullifying any hostile targets.”

Vale only watched the disembodied HK head waiting for a reaction, though she knew she would receive none, before muttering, “Hm, thought as much.”

HK’s were clever in their ability to appear domestic when their true purpose was more akin to a personal bodyguard. But that got her thinking… did this mystery seller want her protected? Did they somehow know about the price to be placed on her head? As if they anticipated a swarm of mercs and bounty hunters to come and claim the sum?

“And as your Master,” she began, rounding on the desk again, placing both hands flat on its cool surface, leveling herself with droid’s line of vision, “I need you to tell me where you came from. Who sold you, and if not that, then who made you.”

“Unfortunate Confession: I cannot, Master. My memory begins and ends with you.”

Vale only smiled, though her expression soured.

“I doubt that,” she said, “You seemed to have a good idea of what you were doing, what was happening.”

Vale recalled those final moments in Anchorhead as painstakingly as she could, closing her eyes for only a moment and instantly placing herself there again. The HK had stirred once Asra had disappeared from the back of her shop, as the others made their first attempt at escaping ahead of her while Vale held the bounty hunters off, distracted them with the destruction of her store front, stalled only by the very HK before her.

“You knew there were people after me, after the price on my head. You knew where I kept my kriffing blaster rifle,” she could almost laugh, re-imagining the HK reach behind her to grab the gun, firing enough rounds to nullify the hostile targets that entered her shop with intention of killing or capturing her. “Explain that.”

“Impassioned Defense: Master, it is my job to keep you safe. I may have appeared deactivated, but my processor was on standby. Several interested parties visited your place of business in your absence. I merely kept tabs on them.”

“...Huh,” was all she managed. The droid was likely telling the truth, but she knew it wasn’t all of it. My memory begins and ends with you. Was that it’s way of telling her it had been programmed to follow her, somehow? To serve her? Or perhaps deliver her to someone else?

“If that’s so, then please report.”

She did her best to appear interested, neutral if anything. Protocol droids of any variety could detect some level of interest, though many failed to pick up on the nuance of human sarcasm.

“Recalled Observation: The day before your arrival, the shop was not empty, as it should have been in your absence, Master,” the droid began, as if aware that Vale was at rapt attention, “Several interested parties entered the establishment under the impression that they were not watched. A mercenary, a bounty hunter, and a man.”

“A… man?”

Vale could have questioned the HK’s suspiciously poetic rendering of a single scout from each interested party, as if there was any true distinction between a merc and a bounty hunter other than level of freelancing if anything, but doubted the droid would respond to any such suspicion.

“Affirmation: Yes, a man. Clothed in black. Facial structure similar to yours, Master. Likely from the Ploo Sector, Serroco System.”

“Interesting,” Vale countered, raising a hand to her chin in thought, “Did this man… do anything? Or take anything?”

Detailed Recollection: No, Master. Though he did… touch a great number of things. The counter, for one. The doorframe. Your tools. And the-”

“That’s enough, I get it,” she said, raising a hand to shut the HK up if it didn’t already get the hint. Vale had done as much as she’d meandered Aiden’s ship once she realized it was his, admiring his handwriting, his work, realizing that every surface smelled like him, spoke of him. Even if she could no longer feel the Force, the entire vessel thrummed with his energy, heavy with his presence even when he was not there. Perhaps her shop had felt the same to him, even if he had tried to kill her moments later, his teeth bared like a beast in thrall.

“No discernable affiliation for the… man , I take it?” she ventured, grimacing slightly as she said it, still uneasy to say his name, even if it meant nothing to the HK.

“Confident Assertion: Not that I could detect, Master.”

“But what of the others?” she countered, ready to be snarky again now that she reckoned the droid had nothing else to say about her brother, “A bounty hunter and a mercenary are easy to spot?”

The HK remained silent, its eyes’ lights blinking rapidly as if buffering, before it could respond.

“Master, I-”

“Miss Rissian?”

Vale’s head spun around to the console on the far wall by the door, the disembodied voice startling her before she realized what it was.

“Miss Rissian, if you have a moment.”

It was Captain Maris, his voice tense but urgent over the inter-ship communication console.

Vale swiftly shut the HK off, dislodging a wire at the back of its head, before sweeping across the room to the console, answering Captain Maris’ call immediately.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Captain Maris said as his face appeared on the screen, a wave of static rippling from top to bottom as his image rendered before settling, his pale face and fair hair set in a blue-white hue. “I just wanted to confirm that the ship will be resuming its scheduled arrival on Telos after a quick detour.” His expression soured for a moment before continuing, “We need to refuel, but we should be arriving on Citadel Station only a day later than originally expected.”

“That is… good news, Captain,” Vale responded, almost unsure of how her alias should be answering instead of herself. “Is there anything I need to-?’

“No worries,” he said, before she could finish voicing her thoughts, “You can remain in your quarters for the time being. Meals will be served as usual, if you need sustenance. The ship should be-”

The feed gave out just as the ship lurched, Vale’s senses akimbo as she regained her steadiness, “Captain? Captain, can you read me?”

A flash of memory - rain, static, interrupted calls as she commed her platoon, stationed at the temple on Dxun, their words drowned out by both the weather and something… else … something darker, something deeper than the rain-soaked mud that caked their boots and kept them from being quiet - and it was gone, just as fast as it had come. Vale blinked, and waited, hearing only static again for a moment before a voice cut through the white noise.

“- see to it, Miss Rissian. If you need anything just report to -”

The static sliced through his words again, filling the silence with even more uncertainty. As the comm went quiet, Vale could only glance out the window at the two ghost ships still hanging in the distance, stilled by time and something more mysterious, something darker.

“Sure thing,” she responded to no one, glancing at the console only to find it frozen, and back at the HK only to find it deactivated, just as she’d left it. Vale sighed, shoulders slumping, knowing she wouldn’t be sleeping for a good long while….

---

3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Outer Rim Rell

“You can confirm it? The ID? Everything?”

Rell had only ever met Admiral Onasi in person once, but even given her limited experience in the man’s presence she knew he was a man not often ruffled, unfazed by anything other than duty, driven by purpose. But now the man’s eyes were wide, almost manic, though he maintained an outer calm ever-present on his face as he questioned her now via holo. His image flickered in the space before her, a ghost in miniature on the console at her fingertips as her hands braced either side of the Harbinger’s monolithic conference table, replaying the mission in her mind over and over again, sure she had every detail down to the tee.

“I’m sure of it,” she affirmed. “The make and model, the carbon scoring you described, and then some. The layout is exactly the same, every nick and scratch accounted for interior-wise, though I can’t say the same about the hull.”

“And the navicomputer? Did you try to access it?”

Ithiris had taken the lead on that as well, searching every crevice of the starcraft, poking and prodding where she could. The ship had certainly been in recent use, despite some evidence otherwise, but the still-warm astromech proved that the ship had only been inactive for a day or two at most. The lack of life on both ships, not to mention the ... bodies … made Rell want to think these ships had been here for years, but the evidence just didn’t add up. And neither did the navicomputer. It had also been in recent use, since the only logged activity viewable was from a couple of days ago, coordinates to the exact spot where these two ships now hung in uncertain balance. But otherwise…

“Voice-locked,” Rell sighed, “Couldn’t crack that code no matter how hard I tried.”

And in fact, she had. It was part of her job description afterall…

Admiral Onasi nodded in understanding, though he looked none too happy at the news.

She shook her head, recounting her intrepid exploration of the Dynamic-class freighter, fearless until she came upon the body in the security room. It was one thing seeing the scarred body of the mangled man on the abandoned ship at first, but there was something about the lifeless body of the woman in the cloak, her face somehow unreadable though Rell could count her every feature, as if every detail was outlined as normally as any other face, but instantly forgettable - not because it was plain, but because it was… cloaked somehow, as if she were programmed to be forgotten upon trying to remember her. Rell shivered still, unsure if this detail was of any use to the Admiral, seeing as she was not the woman he was looking for.

“And the old woman,” Onasi said, as if his thoughts had touched on Rell’s, “She’s-?”

“Confirmed dead by several medics, sir. No ID on her either.”

Admiral Onasi seemed unconcerned with the woman’s identity, as if he may already have some idea of who she was, might have been, or knew of someone he could ask for further clarification. Someone far above her paygrade.

“What of the droids?”

“The…” Rell floundered, her memory malfunctioning as she processed the question. “The what?

“Droids,” he repeated, “What of the droids on board.”

Rell swallowed, resuming her usual professional calm as she laid out the ghost ship’s contents again, its layout, its every detail, as far as her recent recollection could tell her.

“Husks,” she answered after a moment, the image clearing once she got a hold of herself, “A disassembled HK unit was in the main hold, slumped up against the canteen, and a badly damaged astromech was found in the garage, still sparking enough to potentially cause a small fire.”

“Reparable?” Admiral Onasi asked so quickly, so swiftly, the inherent upturn to the question falling flat as he said the words.

“The HK unit is missing parts,but the astromech looks to be in better shape, given the circumstances. Nothing a mechanic can’t fix.”

“Good, good,” the Admiral mused, seemingly pleased as he absently stroked his beard, combing his fingers through it as if Rell were not there. She felt as if she were intruding on a private moment, wondering if the Admiral perhaps forgot this was a visual call and not purely an audible one. “Good.”

The last word he said with some finality, alluding to a potential end to this call, or perhaps a purpose. Rell wasn’t sure what her next objective was, let alone what was even going on.

“Make sure the ship and all contents are brought back to Telos, I’ll make sure my people are there to greet you and take it from there. The Exile as well.”

Rell nodded as she stood at attention, happy to hear some directive, suddenly more at ease despite how little any of this made sense to her.

“What about the other specimen, sir?” she asked, almost regretting it the moment she did.

“The specime-? Oh, you mean the body.”

“Well the bodies, plural, yes sir.”

“The bodies.”

Admiral Onasi wasn’t so much asking as he was repeating it, as if he almost didn’t believe it himself. Rell had no idea what any of this meant, let alone who the two bodies were once, but what had allowed for a once-violent standoff to end in apparent stalemate despite both vessels housing dead bodies… Not to mention that the Sith vessel was oddly empty, despite needing a fleet of a crew to operate. But from what she knew of what the Sith had been once, she ventured it may have not been too much of a stretch to assume the near-destroyed man they’d found had somehow held the ship together himself. She’d heard horror stories of what Darth Malak had done to deserters, to those that still followed Revan, even after she was defeated, even if they still followed his cause. She shuddered at the thought, hoping Admiral Onasi would continue before she had to step in again.

“We’ll take care of that as well,” he said finally, offering her a polite smile though none too pleasant, “I can take it from there. Just let us know when you expect to land.”

“Will do, Admiral,” she affirmed again, “We’re expected to in about-”

“Officer Amara,” a rap came at the door moments before it opened, Captain Maris stepping in before awaiting her response. “Admiral Onasi,” he nodded, his face grave before facing Rell again, apparently keen on having the Admiral listen in on what he was about to say, “It appears we may have a bit of a situation.”

“A situation?” Admiral Onasi asked, his holo-clone crossing its arms as he asked the question, doubt clouding his face even more clearly now.

“A few of our crew members have gone missing in the past twenty minutes,” Captain Maris announced in a hushed whisper, only loud enough for Rell to hear and the for the mic to pick up. “Either our communications have been tampered with or…”

“Or what, Captain?”

Maris turned to Admiral Onasi now, brows knit.

“I’d rather not consider it,” he said, voice hushed still, “I’m not a superstitious man, but-”

The lights cut out for a moment, Admiral Onasi’s flickering image the only light in the room as the ship seemed to sway slightly, the lights returning only to find Rell’s wide eyes on Captain Maris’ increasingly worried expression. Rell nodded slightly, as if confirming his fear, feeling the doubt she’d sensed on the freighter grow tenfold.

“I don’t like the sound of th-”

And with that, Admiral Onasi’s image disappeared entirely, the room plunged into sudden darkness, impenetrable black swallowing the windowless room whole.

“Captain-”

“Agent Am-”

Rell readied herself, hand at her holster before she truly realized what was happening, before her senses could catch up in real time as the lights slowly returned… and Captain Maris was nowhere to be found.

---

3951 BBY, The Harbinger, Outer Rim Vale

The caff had grown cold hours ago but Vale continued to sip it, suffering through its bitterness as she fought down the urge to explore the ship, to pay the mess hall a visit and maybe grab a snack… or a three course meal.

Vale was a woman of extremes when anxious. Either she could go hours without eating or down entire helpings of food without ever feeling full. The aching hunger or the temporary relief of eating continuously provided her with the same satisfied feeling that came with avoiding something, enough to push her worries to the back of her mind to instead focus on baser needs. But the caff wasn’t cutting it, at least not anymore, and if anything it was only making things worse. Captain Maris mentioned that meals would be served as usual, though she was sure the mess hall wouldn’t be devoid if snacks should she go looking for some…

She was about to sweep from the room before pausing at the mirror fixed to the wall, almost startled by the unfamiliar silhouette that met her peripheral vision. Still clad in her foreign garb, Vale suddenly felt strange, tugging at the clinging fabric as if it might strangle her if she didn’t change into something more… comfortable.

Sighing, she crossed to her bed, rummaging through what other items Mission had grabbed before sending her off on her rendezvous, though none of the team were too clear on what would happen next regardless of outfit choice. Inside her pack there was a set of sleeping clothes, it seemed, not quite suitable to wear during meetings but certainly better than what she was currently wearing. Slipping into a loose-cut mint-green shirt that exposed her midriff, adorned with gold -threaded sleeves that stopped just short of her elbows, along with a pair of deep burgundy loose pants that tapered at the ankle, she wondered why this wasn’t the original outfit of choice upon departing. Still unused to clothes that didn’t feel like a second skin, this new garb at least didn’t have a tendency to cling to her limbs in a way that reminded her of groping hands and unwelcome advances, instead giving her room to breathe.

“Much better,” she said to no one, glancing at the disassembled HK in the corner before reaching the door… only a knock came rapping at it just before her palm hit the panel to open it.

“Miss... Rissian?”

Vale paused, startled.

“Miss Rissian, a word, please.”

The voice was garbled, quick, and Vale was already on edge, not on her usual game due to the lack of sleep and overcompensation of caff.

“Maker please,” the voice said again, though this time it sounded more like it was talking to themselves and not any perceived party, and it was with that that Vale decided to open the door.

Only to find no one there.

She paled, blood freezing in her veins.

Someone was here moments ago, and now the hall was empty, the lights uncharacteristically dimmed.

Maybe they’re refueling, Vale told herself, commanding the door to close again as she steadied her nerves. Or preparing to refuel. Saving energy until we arrive.

Glancing out the sorry excuse for a port window her room offered, Vale glanced at the grand expanse that was space, noting that it was empty. No planets, no stations, no way points in sight. They’d left the Sith vessel to hang in the middle of space for the rest of eternity while Vale noticed that the smaller cargo freighter was attached to the hull for transport, but they’d yet made hyperspace since then, drifting somewhat aimlessly until they’d made preparations for the jump… or so she’d assumed.

She needed to find Rell. Something wasn’t right.

Vale paused again, re-examining her pack and its contents, eyeing her weapons and her non-alias related clothing, considering foregoing the charade entirely. But something told her not to. At least… not yet. Something told her she’d be back here again, before all was said and done. Whatever that meant. Ever since she’d lost sight of the Force - stopped feeling it, channeling it - she’d had thoughts like these, just as sure but of unknown origin. A gut feeling, she ventured. Whatever it was, she trusted it, but something about the HK caught her eye.

“Rise and shine,” she cooed, re-enabling the intelligence module, “How do you feel about going for a little walk?”

“Surprised Statement: Master, my joints are aching for a stroll,” he garbled, eyes flickering before glowing at full capacity, “Except I cannot seem to feel my-”

“That’s because your heads not attached, dummy,” Vale quipped as she tucked a shock stick in her pocket - something these pants seemed wealthy in, to her pleasant surprise, both pant legs generous in the amount of hidden room they offered. “Now, I need to know I can trust you to follow me and follow orders. Are we clear?”

“Bemused Declaration: Master, that is my precise programming. Lead and I shall follow.”

Vale hinted a sense of sarcasm, only highlighted by the droid’s complete lack of emotion. All dorids lacked facial expression, though Vale always found the HK models to be particularly cold compared to others.

“Good, now try to stay quiet. Don’t say anything unless inquired and…” she wanted to say search for hostiles but knew better than to promise anything, lest the bastard get trigger-happy. Or maybe that was just Revan’s model… Vale tried not to dwell on it. “Don’t get yappy, alright?”

“Mild Indignation: Master, I would never.”

Yes, sarcasm, she sighed, keeping her mouth shut for her own benefit as well as the HK’s. Definitely sarcasm.

“Alright, let’s move out.”

It didn’t take her long to reattach the rest of the HK’s limbs’ together, mildly surprised that Zaalbar’s annoyed trashing hadn’t done more damage - not that she’d blame him.

Vale nodded at the HK, waiting until it slowly nodded its head in return before making for the door again, nervous as she touched her palm to the panel once more. Pressing firmly, realizing her skin was clammier than expected, the door slid open, a rush of tepid air meeting her expectant face as the hall opened up much as it had before. Oddly dark and oddly empty.

Earlier, there had been the dull ambient sounds of officers milling about, going about their duties, but now all Vale heard were the engines running, the halls quieter than they should be otherwise.

“Stay close,” Vale said, pulling a palm-sized holopad from her pocket, “But not… too close.”

The HK unit nodded and Vale loosed a breath, thankful this one was good at following directions. At least so far.

Glancing at the holopad, she tried to upload a map of the ship but found that the connection was fuzzy. Slapping the thing against the heel of her palm, the image jolted slightly before coming into focus. The light flickered, offering her a brief window to examine the layout of the floor she was on and the route to the bridge before the entire thing cut out, the light flickering and shuddering out of existence.

“Communications are more than just jammed,” she whispered, half to herself and half to the HK unit. Something or someone wasn’t just tampering with the systems on this ship but draining the power somehow, sapping it dry. “What the hell did they find on that thing?”

Goosebumps rose on her skin as she asked the question, as if giving the words open air made it seem more real, more mysterious and more… strange, a bad feeling creeping in and settling over her like a shroud, doubt and worry making itself right at home as she thought back to the objects hidden in her pack, the things they’d found on Tatooine and what had happened there...

The rest of the hall stretched on, lifeless, though lights promised some activity further down, where the hall branched out to other sections of the ship. Captain Maris hadn’t spoken with her that long ago, had he? How much had happened since then? And if this ship was anything like the ones Alek had commanded during the war, then there would be no shortage of officers going about their routine responsibilities, whether they were on active duty or not, preparing for battle or simply going through the motions, keeping the ship running…

Vale thought of a joke, something about taking up journaling once this was all over, but realized that the thinly veiled dark humor masquerading as humor at all would be lost on the droid, something better intended for Asra. She wondered what they’d all do next, if the hunt would lead them further down Revan’s rabbit hole along with her, or if they might find something more profitable, something worth pursuing, something that might allow them all to eke out a living without chasing ghosts.

Instead, she chuckled, at nothing and no one, knowing (or hoping) that the HK wouldn’t react and would allow her this small thing, this one human thing, despite the fear coiling inside her, ready to spring, ready to-

“General,” a voice cut through the dark, thick with the heat and loud with the rain from outside, “Where to?”

Eden looked ahead to only find more impenetrable darkness. Abandoning her eyes, she reached out with the Force to find the entire temple laid out before her like a starlit field, rooms illuminated like star maps, lifeforms glowing like distant planets catching the light as they continued in orbit. Behind her, her troops stilled, awaiting orders. Ahead there were beasts, creatures that had long since made these halls a home, allowed their darker energies to penetrate their simple minds and twist them… but something else lingered here. Someone… though no longer living. And something… hungry for what might be living beyond its walls.

“We go right,” Vale said in the present, the memory ringing clear as it overlayed her current consciousness like a kaleidoscope, inwardly joking again that this was something to journal about, something to remember. The memory was clear now, the temple on Dxun. Orex had been at her side, then. He may have even been the one to ask the question.

The HK remained silent at her side, playing along, quiet as promised. The hall ahead was barren as well, but there were echoes here, evidence of some not-so-distant activity. Vale glanced at the HK and nodded, as if in silent reminder that it follow along and stay silent as she took the lead again. She took a step forward.

As soon as she entered the next leg of the hall, the hair on the back of her neck prickled, her elbow grazing something solid even though she was at least a foot from the wall. Vale spun around, meeting the HK with a grimace.

“Please take a step back,” she whispered, “I said follow close by, but not right up my-”

She paused, straining her ears, her eyes, her senses, pushing them to the limit. The hair on her arms now stood up, her ear sensing something shuffling beside her, though she saw and felt nothing… but it was almost as if the space beside her sighed, as if the shadows shifted before settling, as if-

“Amused Query: Up your what, exactly, Master?”

“You know what I meant,” she hissed, turning back to the HK, annoyed, “Just… stay a step or two behind, is all.”

She didn’t like this. None of it. The hall shouldn’t have been this empty, nor this quiet, even though she swore she could sense something just on the edge of hearing, on the edge of feeling, on the edge of seeing…

It was as if she could feel the Force rippling around her, but was unable to tap into it, as if she were on the verge of channeling the Force but unable to find the right channel to tune into, forever her phantom limb.

“Confident Assertion: I can follow orders, Master,” the HK said quietly, its mechanical eyes providing little light to the dimly lit hall, “So long as you can lead the way.”

She took it as a challenge, sighing as she turned towards the hall and its closed doors again, wondering if any of them worked, wondering how she managed to inherit such a sarcastic droid at a time like this, figuring it was just her luck and she shouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest.

“Let me know if you sense anything,” she said over her shoulder as she ran her fingers over the shock stick still snug in her pocket, “Movements, voices… tell me if you pick up anything.”

“Pointed Observation: The hall is empty, Master,” it said, its voice level but sinister somehow, “However, there are movements up ahead, at the end of the hall and approaching the junction.”

Sure enough, up ahead was an intersection, a cross between four hallways converging into one. The end of the hall directly before them was completely dark, only the emergency lights outlining the dysfunctioning panel on the wall, thankfully leaving the blast door open for them to pass through.

“I’m not sure where he’s gone but since all the comms are down-” a voice said, starting off muffled but growing clearer as Vale inched onward, “I don’t know, but if we want to secure the-”

“We should just continue with the drill,” another voice cut in, urgent, “We’re still not sure what caused the- shit. ”

Two officers appeared in the junction ahead, the man on the left approaching the panel that likely controlled the entire intersection, before he noticed Vale’s silhouette further down the hall. He paused, hand on his holster, but he didn’t move beyond that, he only asked, “Identify yourself officer.”

Vale raised her hands slowly as if in friendly surrender, mustering up what she remembered of her cover story if asked anything beyond her name.

“Lan Rissian? I’m bound for Onderon, or at least Citadel Station. I was brought on board to-”

“Ah, right, the diplomat,” the other said, a Twi’lek she realized as his dark green lekku took shape, stepping out of the shadows and into the poorly lit junction beside his partner. “Are you alright?”

Vale took stock of herself, as if she weren’t already sure before being asked, though she glanced warily at the stretch of darkness that stood between her and the officers, as if she knew they were not quite alone, “I think so, yes.”

Both officers glanced at one another before eyeing the HK behind her with equally wary expressions, the shadow between both parties revealing nothing and no one, though Vale’s senses said otherwise.

“I didn’t pass this through customs,” she explained, as if being interrogated or brought to task, “He was disassembled when I brought him on board. It. Whatever,” she was nervous now, though unsure exactly as to why, “There’s a log of it, I just… felt safer going beyond my room if I wasn’t alone.”

Neither officer answered, but neither seemed to object or suspect her story. It had been true, after all…

“Have you heard from anyone at all?” the human asked, glancing at Vale now instead of the HK, though he still seemed a bit on edge because of it.

“No, not for a while anyway. Just a message from Captain Maris but that must have been an hour ago.”

He nodded, looking to his partner as they exchanged knowing glances.

“It’s not unusual for this sort of thing to happen out in the Outer Rim, as I’m sure you’re aware, Miss Rissian,” the Twi’lek said, crossing his arms and mulling it over, as if trying to convince himself just as much as he was her, “Independent systems are known to set up satellites in more remote parts of the Rim to jam systems, block communication and otherwise weave panic in passing ships, especially if they hail from the Republic. I’m sure we’ll be out of it in no time, especially since we’re nearing the waypoint now.”

The waypoint. They must have been really far out there, nearing the Unknown Regions if anything, a blackhole not far off if they were navigating this carefully.

“We’re telling everyone with a functioning door to meet in the med bay,” the human man continued, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, “All crew are required to update their vaccinations before re-entering Republic Space. Plus, with the systems malfunction we could do with the headcount. At least until we can get things up and running.”

Both soldiers sounded just as unconvinced as they looked. All she did was nod in response, taking the man’s advice about heading to the medbay, a maw of dread taking root in her stomach as she moved passed the two officers, grimacing in an attempt at ‘ thanks ’ before moving towards the only of the working doors in the junction.

The officers watched as walked on, as if waiting until she was out of view before speaking further or going about their business. She could feel the HK humming beside her, as if itching to speak.

“Just spit it out,” she said once they’d turned another corner, drawing closer to the medbay if her memory served her correctly.

“Pointed Observation: Master, I have a bad feeling about this.”

Vale could only roll her eyes and suck in a breath.

“I’m getting really tired of that phrase, y’know that?”

#kotor 2 #kotor #star wars #fan fiction #the jedi exile #my writing #is anyone reading this? idk but I'm gonna finish this damn thing even if it kills me #its.... so long #please don't feel pressured to read this lol #I should probably make a page for this...#shit I also need to fix the links at the top - some go to tumblr links and some are ao3

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darthrevans · 6 years ago

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hello! i've been silently observing a lot of the kotor fandom on here lately, and it’s made me want to develop my own revan a lot more since i see other people’s so much... so! here’s an oc meme that i’m just gonna write out for my own benefit (from this post)

Their age? I’d say like 29.

Their sexuality/sexual preference? Bisexual.

Any siblings/Only child? Only child, taken from her family at a young age to become a Jedi.

Their favourite season? Seasons aren’t really the same in Star Wars, but she really likes the rain, and she likes the cold. When she’s Darth Revan, and later when she’s been made Nataya, this is a constant (and when others complain about the rain she just smiles and turns her head up to feel the raindrops on her face. She loved Manaan for the constant feeling of this.)

Who were/are their parents/guardians? Her parents don’t matter to her. They let her go, and she understands, but she has no interest in knowing who they are. Her primary guardian is Kreia, and she looked to her for guidance the most as she grew up in the Jedi Temple.

Their gender? Cis female.

Their date of birth? Don’t really have an answer for this. Let’s just say she doesn’t really celebrate her birthday.

What clothing style? She wears black. Her robes are black, and her casual clothes are black. This is something that followed on from when the Council stripped her of her Revan identity- they couldn’t remove her style. She likes wearing black and having everything match. It makes her feel powerful. And she becomes a Jedi wearing the same colour that the Council are so afraid of seeing her in. (Basically, she’s like the Anakin Skywalker of KOTOR times).

What is their favourite food after a break-up? The only “break-up” she’s really experienced was when Bastila was taken from her and made to fall. She thought she would have to kill her, before she realised she could bring her back.

Their favourite thing to do after a break-up? Probably find a swoop race gallery to completely sweep.

What happens in the ‘honeymoon phase’ for this character? She’s a horny motherfucker who *will* jump you in the cockpit of the Ebon Hawk (to Carth’s extreme embarrassment. Nataya, please, someone could walk in).

How many serious relationships have they been in? I would say two. I don’t really think my Revan was romantically involved with Malak, but they were very close, and I do think Malak had feelings for her. The other is of course Carth.

What is their nationality? In-game, she tells Bastila she was born on Deralia. I will accept this. It sounds pretty.

What languages do they speak? She speaks dozens of languages. She has an implant that helps her with understanding the really difficult ones, but she prides herself on her ability to learn. She took the time to learn Sasha’s version of Mandalorian, after all!

What is their profession/Education? She’s a Jedi Knight, ex-Dark Lord of the Sith, and Republic hero.

Their favourite comfort food? I don’t think she has one, which is sad. She eats whatever is given to her.

What’s a food they hate? She hates strange meats. (What do you mean this is rancor neck, Mission- I am NOT eating this-)

Their music taste? Limited to cantina music. Gotta love those Bith.

Is there a story behind their name/meaning? Nataya chose the name Revan on the battlefield when she took her mask from the fallen Cathar woman. The Council chose the name Nataya L’hnnar for her, with help from Bastila. The only reason Nataya allows herself to still be called Nataya is that she knows Bastila chose the name in the end.

Something they do that seems childish to others? She *WILL* continue to play pazaak until she wins (and she’s not very good at it, so this can result in many a flipped pazaak deck, or a table, and frustrating grumbling).

What is their all-time favourite TV show? Don’t...really think this applies.

What is their all-time favourite movie? ^

How big is their family? In reality, it’s just her. But in her mind, Carth is her partner, and she can’t think about forever but she does love him.

Are they close to anyone specific in the family? HK? I suppose?

Have they got any allergies? No.

Are they an emotional person? She’s gotten better at it. When she found out she was Revan, she reacted badly. She exploded in all kinds of emotions against Malak, and Bastila, before Bastila was taken from her and she had no choice but to face the reality of her situation. Since that night aboard the Hawk, she shut herself off. Her emotions flared a lot basically as soon as they got to and started progressing through Korriban, though, as that was Revan’s old stomping ground and that was when she realised she couldn’t shut herself off like she wanted. Since Bastila’s own fall, they’ve really been helping each other to manage; Juhani and Jolee are excellent helps in this regard.

Do they get angry/lose their temper quickly? Yes. If you push the right button, Nataya will explode. Anything to do with Revan gets a rise out of her, especially in the beginning. She’s better at it now, but when she sees cruel things, or someone pisses her off in such a way, she will cut you down.

What are some of their guilty pleasures? She loves swoop racing. As her memories return to her, she can’t remember ever even doing it once. And she’s glad she got to experience that as Nataya.

Do they have pets? Do they want pets? She had some gizka for a while. After that; no thanks.

Do they like kids? Do they want kids/have kids? She doesn’t like kids. Mission is probably the closest to a child she will ever have. She doesn’t want kids. She will help Carth with his son Dustil, and that is likely it, too.

Who’s cuddle buddy are they? Mission likes to cuddle with her, but of course Carth does too.

Do they have any tattoos? She does not.

Do they have any piercings? The upper part of her right earlobe is pierced.

What is their hair colour? Is it their natural colour? Her hair is black as night, and it is quite long. It is her natural hair colour.

Do they like musicals? No.

Do they like marmite? N/A.

Do they like glitter? She doesn’t not hate it.

Do they believe in the supernatural? Uh. I guess so. Force ghosts?

Have they ever seen a dead body? LOL................... she’s Darth Revan!

Have they ever had a near-death experience? AGAIN, LOL.

Have they ever broken a bone? L O L.

What are they like when they’re drunk/what kind of drunk are they? She is a bit of a messy drunk. She doesn’t drink often, as Jedi weren’t really allowed to. When she became Dark Lord, she was too in control. As Nataya? Ohhhh man... the lack of drinking really catches up with her.

Have they ever drunk underage? Probably like once.

What is the first thing they do when they wake up? Stare at the ceiling of wherever she was for the night. She then gets up to meditate, and stretch, and focus herself within the Force.

Do they consider themselves popular? She wouldn’t call herself popular, but she is Revan. Revan is the heart of the force.

How do they like their tea/coffee? She doesn’t like the taste of coffee but she drinks it when she *really* needs to stay awake. She’s coming around to the taste of some exotic flavours. Mostly, she asks for green tea, or its space equivalent.

What do they smell like? Sweat, probably. Blood. She doesn’t smell the nicest. When she gets a chance to bathe, which can be rare, she lavishes in the sweet smelling floral soaps. (Yes, Darth Revan liked floral, sweet smells).

Are they a virgin? No. She lost her virginity to Malak.

Do they wear glasses/contacts? No.

Are they good at remembering significant dates? Anniversaries, birthdays etc? Yes, she is. As her memories of Revan start to come back more, this becomes even worse; she remembers dates REVAN thought important- which can sometimes be horrifying.

#nataya l'hnnar #my hc #text

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caddy-crystal-queen · 8 years ago

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Orion’s Keep-A Long Awaited Reunion

So, this is a fairly long one shot that features my newest RP OTP, CrystalHunter, or Caddy/Embo. Don’t ask how. It just happened. This is a AU based on my RP with @partners-in-crime-rp in which Embo left rather than stayed with Caddy and Carson. As for what happened to the good doctor, she was killed a while before this fic started. Enjoy!

Ten years... Ten long years. Ten years of pain, of loneliness, heartache, and a deep seated sense of self hatred. For ten years, that was all she had. The cloaked red head approached the large fortress with mixed, conflicting thoughts. She wanted to hate him. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to curse him. She wanted to whisper warm, forbidden things to him as they entwined in his bed, making her feel like a woman for the first time. All of this ad more, much more, she wanted.

Cadence Revan felt cold, and it wasn’t just from the wintry air around her. The cold was deeper, more surreal. Ten years ago, she had been warm and inviting. Back then, she had found her hope in the form of a bounty hunter sent to retrieve her. But now all the crystal mancer felt was empty and cold.

John and Caleen rode up behind her. “This is it. Orion’s Keep” John told her. “So this is what he’s been up to for the past decade” even Caddy’s voice was cold. “Now dearie, don’t get yer hopes up just yet. He might not have even lived to see it done” Caleen reminded her for...well, Cadence lost count.

But he had to be here. He had to be alive, or all her pain would’ve been for nothing. Only from him could Cadence hope for pity, for innocence.

For love.

“He’s here” she said more to, and for, herself than her companions.

The tall and heavy doors of Orion’s Keep opened and time seemed to stop as the trio rode in. All eyes were on them, but Caddy paid them little mind. She saw some familiar faces but a lot of strangers as well. Cadence heard the whispers, saw the shocked and paled faces. Why were they all so surprised?

“Well look who it is...back from the dead I suppose?” the voice of Cad Bane pulled Caddy from her thoughts.

She turned her gray and white horse, Gunpowder, to face the old Duros. “What’s good never dies, Bane. Where is he?” “I take it ya mean Embo. He thinks you’re dead”. “Yeah? Well clearly I’m not. Unless i’m a ghost and don’t realize it”.

If Cadence were honest, she would’ve admitted she felt like a ghost.

“Got yourself a tongue now, huh?” Bane stepped toward her as if itching for a fight.

Still mounted on Gunpowder, Caddy took a glove off as she removed one hand from the reins. John reached for one of his blasters and Caleen for an arrow for her bow.

“Enough!” a female voice Caddy knew called.

She turned to see Sugi standing on a wooden porch to what looked like a tavern of sorts. She even looked surprised to see Cadence.

“Caddy? Is it really?”

She nodded. “Sugi...Please I...I need to know-”

Sugi put a hand up to quiet her. “He’s alive and yes, he’s here. I’ll go get him”.

Cadence watched her walk out to what looked like a large housing complex, perhaps some kind of barracks. She slipped her glove back on and gave Bane a glare. He just stared with annoyance back.

Sugi didn’t expect her friend to believe her, and he didn’t at first of course. He heard the empire was now hunting down anomalies and Cadence had been near the top of the list. Embo had failed to find the young crystal mancer who had captured his heart so long ago, and he was left to believe she had been caught and killed. All this time he had kept the rose quartz-ruby heart and white opal wolf she had made for him on a small pedestal in his quarters. Her note, faded as it was, stayed close to his heart at all times.

A Heart for a Heart it read still.

When his friend told him that there was even a slight chance she was alive and within the walls of the large fort he built, Embo couldn’t bring himself to believe it. But he dared to hope. After so long he finally dared to. The Kyuzo hunter made his way out.

Time stopped again as he saw the hooded rider take it off. She had changed so much but Embo knew. Her face was sharper, her blue eyes dark, tired, and fearful.The black in her hair was nearly gone, giving way to the natural blood red color. Embo assumed it had been a brighter shade before she dyed it. The human dismounted, a look of sheer disbelief etched across her still lovely face.

“Embo...” her voice was quieter than she intended.

Her heart raced, like all those years ago. Even now, her hunter still had that effect on her. The Kyuzo removed his helmet and locked eyes with her as Cadence dismounted Gunpowder. Embo took slow, careful steps towards her, as if approaching an easily frightened animal. .

“Cadenza...my love...” he stopped just in front of her.

Caddy shook her head and closed the distance between them, almost jumping into her much taller lover’s arms. Cadence sobbed as Embo held her, his long fingers undoing the braid of her hair and ran them through the silk like strands.

“I missed you...so much” she managed through her tears. “I missed you too” he told her whispering softly, “My angel...I’ll never let you out of my sight again”.

She kissed up his neck to his ear. “Take me inside. Just hold me, please”.

Embo glanced at his fellow hunters. “Tend to her friends and their beasts. This one is Mine” he emphasized “mine” with a growl.

His basic wasn’t as broken as it used to be. It was a pleasant surprise and she still loved how he sounded. Embo carried her back to his quarters, his hands making small circles wherever he touched. He placed her on his bed carefully, as if she were made of glass. Caddy had no desire to let him go, but a part of her was so tired and the bed was soft and comfy. For the first time in a decade, she felt safe. Her hunter adorned her face with gentle kisses.

He spoke in his native tongue which she understood a little. “Rest, little nightingale. We will speak again when you’re well rested”.

Her mix of emotions, combined with the long journey and cold, left her drained. Embo kept his long arms locked around her as she fell into a dreamless sleep...

Author’s note: So this is just part one. There is a part two coming but it’s a lot shorter. I just really wanted to get this part up for a close friend of mine. A shoutout to @iridonian-goddess, cause she’s just flat out frikkin awesome. And if you’re into bounty hunting rping, she’s the go to lady with her awesome RP Blog, @partners-in-crime-rp. I certainly have a lot of fun with her and I hope you guys will too. Part 2 coming up soon as I can. If life will let me...lol

#fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfic #bounty hunters #embo #Embo/OC #reunion #romance #hurt/comfort

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crqstalite · 5 years ago

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SHADOW OF THE SITH, Ch.7

fair warning here as well. this turned into an 8k word chapter. i wasn’t expecting it just as much as you weren’t.

NAJI._BATTLE_OF_RISHI.

Something snaps in her as a blast throws the Wrath backwards. Naji turns just in time to witness the missile hit somewhere near her feet. Distracted, maybe. By what, she isn't sure, but Tri'ama falls in a heap a few yards away, painfully hitting her head on a terminal as she skids to a stop. Over the firing of the walker, she can't hear whether she screams or not. But she's down for the count, and a cry catches in Naji's throat. The walker is still pelting her with blaster fire, now that it no longer is targeting the woman, but that pause to catch the Wrath out of the corner of her eye is enough to drop her force shield for just a moment, worry overtaking her.

Pain explodes in her right leg, as she grits her teeth, a blaster bolt leaving a nasty gouge in her upper thigh. The walker doesn't stop firing, but refocused by the agonizing burning, she puts up her shield again. It was a horrid idea to leave Zenith behind, worse she should've called Qyzen in if she was looking for brute force. Backup would've been very nice at this point in time, lazily she thinks they'd be out of here much faster with four extra hands. But, something about being as quiet as possible without a full strike time had won the majority over (Tri'ama, Lana and Theron had all outvoted her on this idea, she didn't see it as fair as the only truly devoted Republic member). So here they were, fighting a giant metal beast without blasters that simply wouldn't go down no matter what they did.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, love." She says, sitting out atop the hut in the Rishii village. It was still warm out, though the cool air off the nearby oceans was soothing, and the impending impromptu mission kept her from being able to sleep. She'd stepped over the others to come outside and calm herself, but she'd had to call her husband because, to put it simply, she just couldn't stop her racing heart. Felix's image flickers for a moment, before stabalizing again, "But I'll see you again soon, you know that."

"I'm going to worry either way, Naj." He answers, trying to hide his visible frustration. He's only worried for her, which makes sense. His wife of more than three years is yet again, running headlong into a battle she might not walk away from unscathed. She, personally, hates it when he frets about her. Some may find it endearing, but there's nothing romantic about giving your partner a heart attack in her eyes, "How long are you going to be there? Who are you taking with you?"

"I don't know. As long as the assault takes, I suppose." She pauses, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, "And the Wrath."

"The Wrath? Not Zenith? Or, I don't know, me?" He asks quizzically, crossing his arms, "Naji, you're going in there with a war criminal. Or more than a war criminal, a tyrannical Sith. I might not be force sensitive, but even I know there's something wrong with that sentence."

"I don't have any other allies that are as in depth with this operation as I am, Felix. Bringing in someone like the Hero of Tython would only cause a stir, which would speed up our destruction at the hands of Revan instead of slowing it. We can't afford that, especially with the state the fleets are in. Theron and Lana have already advised against it." Felix opens his mouth to ask who the aforementioned people were, but she's already beginning to answer, "You met them both on Manaan a few years ago. The Sith and the SIS agent."

The gears are already turning in his head as he processes what she's said, "Right. But that doesn't change the fact you're going in alone. I'm prepped and ready to go at your word, Naj."

"I'm not putting you in more danger than necessary, and that's final, Felix." She responds, trying to sate him as much as herself, "Among enemies or friends, this is how it's going to be. I need to do this for the good of the Republic. The Wrath is coming with me, whether you or I like it or not."

He sighs, knowing he's been defeated in this argument with her, "Just come home. When you're done. Everyone's getting antsy with you out there and no reports on what's happening."

"Isn't that just you?" She asks playfully (as playfully as she can, coming down from an anxiety attack). She's sure Tharan and Holiday are getting along fine without her, and that Nadia and Bisauur will progress well with Zenith and Qyzen looking over their more practical trainings (though she is always afraid her younger padawan is going to shoot herself in the foot, with being unable to see as it is) He rolls his eyes, though gives her a knowing smile, "I promise I'll be back as soon as this is all over, and you can join me wherever we go next."

"Promise?" He questions, a near needy tone filtering into his voice. She and Felix didn't have a bond like she and Nadia did, but it's nearly the same. Naji can always bank on Felix being there for her, and as much as she's worrying, she's sure he's doing enough of it on his own. For a few months at least, she'd be by his side no matter what. After all of this fumbling in the darkness against Revan, he deserved that much.

"Always." She can hear someone rustling beneath her, or possibly it's just the wind toying with the trees nearby. Either way, it is time to get some shut-eye before tomorrow's surely exhausting events, "I love you, Felix Iresso."

"I love you more, Naji Iresso."

Naji doesn't know if she'd be able to forgive herself if Felix died. If he was hurt when she was nearby. He's been fatally wounded once, and she promised she'd take every blaster bolt for him afterwards. Even if it hurt him more to see her incapacitated. He meant the entire galaxy to her, and surely it was mutual. That, to put it in basic, was why she couldn't bring him along. Anyone, for that matter. Her family getting hurt because of her would turn her to the dark side faster than her passions for her relationship with Felix would.

With this thought fueling her next attack, she throws a chunk of wooden plank from nearby and sends it into the viewport of the walker, then she ducks to move to protect the warrior. Just barely fast enough, she pulls out her saber, igniting it again. Her right leg has been momentarily forgotten as the pilot regains their composure and begins firing on her again. Barely able to split her attention between their certain death and her fallen ally, Naji turns over her shoulder to see Tri'ama groaning, trying to push herself up onto her elbows. The woman is wide open through the force, and all she can feel is waves and waves of determination, if not also pain on the forefront of it. It's not immediatly obvious what injuries she's sustained, but she's bleeding down her forehead as she lifts it to look at her. However, whoever the pilot is must be horrified at the sight, because the crimson liquid running down her face paints a picture of what she assumes must be a true Sith. Her blonde hair has fallen out of it's ponytail at the nape of her neck, and is sticking to the rivers of blood on her face as she holds out a hand.

"Hold on." Naji can just barely read the warrior's lips, partially in general confusion because she can't hear over the clanking of the giant machine, before a force blast nearly sends her backwards as much as the walker loses it's footing as well, crashing it to the ground with an ugly screeching sound. Had she not steeled herself with the will of the force against the Wrath's attack, she surely would've sustained fatal injuries herself. The ripple has gone through the water beneath them as well, and sends her a strong message as well. The Wrath is not playing around anymore (as if she was before), and the fallen walker is failing to stand. Just for good measure, she crushes the legs beneath it and through some struggle, manages to pull them off completely. A bit extra, if Naji's being honest, especially because Wrath only had so much power in her after the island they'd just fought through. She's concerned she's going to exhaust it all before they deal with anymore adversaries.

Tri'ama stalks up to the metal beast, weapons still not drawn. The walker stops trying to get up, and an exit port opens, the metal already almost crushed door kicked out by a male Mirialan. His force signature is shaky, he's afraid as his eyes land on the pair, his eyes widening as he tries to disconnect himself from the surely destroyed pilot's seat and run. His force signature is full of fear, his original confidence waning away.

There isn't a word exchanged between them before Tri'ama takes it upon herself to snap his neck. It's too fast, too swift before she can even say anything to keep the Sith from the violent action, and the man's yellow eyes roll back in his head and his head lolls at an unnatural angle. His body hits the ground just as he tried to stand. The woman turns to her, her own amber eyes in narrow slits looking rather annoyed. With what, Naji can't name it, but holds her tongue in fear that in this aggressive state, she may receive the same treatment. Well, at least she can hold her own against a Sith. The poor, now lifeless Revanite hadn't been able to at all.

"If you're going to say something scathing against my strategies, do it now or forever hold your piece." Tri'ama says, not bothering to face her as she continues toward a large holocomputer. Naji pauses for a moment, a lingering glance given to the man as she leans down to close his eyes. His uniform is painted in dingy orange and white, clear he'd been part of the Republic beforehand. But, he had tried to kill her without a care in the galaxy. He didn't seem anywhere near peaceful, but she throws out a small prayer for him anyways.

Following after the Sith, it's clear the long, drawn out and consecutive battles had taken more out of her than immediatly clear. Instead of walking properly upright, she's staggeringly unbalanced, leaning against the handrails for support as she continues on. Though her own right leg hurts, she hurries after her, putting a hand on her shoulder that the Wrath shrugs off indignantly, "Wrath--Tri'ama let me heal you." she demands, digging into her shoulder with a bit more force than necessary.

"I don't need healing from a Jedi." She sputters, as she turns her head over said shoulder. The blood is beginning to dry, giving her a more caked and pale look, as if all the liquid has drained out of her face and onto it. Her eyes are growing alarmingly glassy, as if she's not even really seeing what's before her, "Let's get this job over with."

"You're not well." Naji argues, as they reach the end of the path, "You did a grand amount of damage, and took a hit near the end. Stars, your head is bleeding something horrible. Let me fix you." It isn't a request anymore, it's an order. She may not like the woman, but watching her bleed out and die in front of her isn't going to be in line with her moral compass. Tri'ama had helped her take down adversary after adversary here on Rishi and surely had saved her life more times than she could count.

Now, it was time to save her's.

"I don't--" She barely has the angry statement out before she collapses, Naji just barely catching her, and she lowers her to the ground into a sitting position against a guardrail. The woman still has the energy to struggle against her, but she's breathing hard. Under closer inspection, there are quite a few other wounds that she hadn't seen before, a gash on her stomach surely from earlier, and many along her legs and forearms. Possibly there are more on her backside, but rolling her over seems like a bad idea for now, "I don't...need healing."

"You need it more than you'd like to admit, Wrath." Her hands glow brightly, and she considers for a moment. Does she have enough left in herself to be effective? The high she was on from the adrenaline is beginning to leave her, and her thigh is excruciatingly painful, so she has to adjust her position to keep the pressure off it for the time being. Naji has her own injuries to deal with, can she heal her without also being self-destructive and hurrying along the loss of consciousness? When and if she passes out, will the Wrath leave her to die, instead of returning with her?

"If you're going to...going to monologue in that head of yours, I might as well--gah!" Tri'ama is still trying to push herself up, and her arm gives out, "Might as well go."

"You're not going anywhere." And stop poking around in my head, she adds silently. Breathing out, she tries to calm her racing heart and focus on one injury with her waning abilities. First, her head. Tri'ama fidgets for a moment as she lowers a hand to where she can see the most visible gash (she''s horrified for a moment, when had this happened? And why is it so deep? How had she survived this long with it?) just in the part of her hair, and Tri'ama winces before her face relaxes into not one of being content, but simply being. Why, she wasn't sure, her healing didn't typically elicit such a nervous response. It isn't easy work, she's cut in quite a few places, but there's swelling in her brain that she zeroes in on soothing first. Naji pours as much of her power into it as she's willing to part with, and slowly but surely the Wrath is coming down from her battle high as well and beginning to enter more of a pain-afflicted fuzzy state, the walls of her mind falling. All of a sudden, the Wrath is wide open to her, and the feelings of desire, wanting, fear, and blind determination flood her consciousness, though she hadn't even prodded at her. It's smothering over her own emotions of triumph, and for a moment she has to let go to rid herself of her force signatures intoxicating effects.

After a few minutes, she's successfully got Tri'ama's brain in working order (or as working as it's going to get), the swelling done for and the cuts closed gracefully. They won't leave the scars that are often conversation starters for most people, but instead ones that will continue to fade with time. There's enough of her power to heal her left arm and the biggest gash in her stomach, but she's beginning to lose herself by that point. Things are growing fuzzy, and she can barely make out what's going on as her hand flickers in and out with it's gold glowing. The corners of her vision are going black as she gives a final push into her last heal, the now-scar closing up before her eyes.

The Wrath, however, has regained a better version of consciousness and waves her hand away, testing her left hand to push herself up from her sitting position, "That's enough, Barsen'thor. I won't perish by the hands of any walker. Not now anyways." Her silver eyes are surprisingly concerned, as she holds her flickering hand away from the wound on her shoulder, "We still have to make it back to the safehouse alive, and I'd rather you not be unconscious when we arrive. How that would look to Lana and Theron."

"Just...give me a moment." Her breathing has gone ragged, as if someone's pressing down hard on her chest. Her own head hurts from exerting so much energy that day, from using it to heal the Wrath. Everything is catching up with her in that very moment, and it's as if it's wounding her more than the fight itself did. Naji struggles to get up, having to use the guardrail to keep the world from spinning more than it already has. If that was the case, then the Wrath's injuries must've been worse than originally assumed, "Just...a moment..."

Everything fades, and the Wrath's unease is obvious in both her stance and presence. Her hand is gently on her head, and she whispers something to her before she collapses outright.

"Relax."

TRI'AMA._POST_BATTLE_OF_RISHI.

After Naji slumps to the ground, she's careful to check the surrounding areas before letting her lay against a stack of crates. The woman was peaceful now, her breathing slowing considerably and her indescribably chaotic force presence quiet. It had been a last resort, and she hadn't intended on forcefully soothing her. It was morally wrong for a few reasons, and she wouldn't have had to push it on her as hard as she had if she hadn't been force sensitive or so hell bent on staying up and awake. Typically, she wouldn't even think to do it, but the Barsen'thor would've tired herself out much before they even got near to the speeders. This, was a mercy.

It would be harder to explain to Theron or Lana once they answered, but her immediate thought is to simply shut the signal jammer down. Copying what Theron had showed her with some challenge, there's a loud sound of the giant machine slowly but surely turning off. Not even a moment later, the aforementioned agent's voice sounds, "Nice, I'm in. Uploading the files."

Her second mission is to contact Darth Marr. This is a bit more difficult, getting past all sorts of firewalls she didn't bother learning the names or functions of. Once that's finished, all she has to do is wait until he picks up, "Come in. Can anyone read me?"

After that, Darth Marr fizzles to life in blue particles, "I am here. And you are on Rishi."

"Darth Marr, you have traitors in your fleet. Scores of them, acting under orders from Revan." She lowers her own hood, if not to seem more respectful to the older man, then to cool her off enough to focus properly. It's hot as all hell right now, and she's not trying to pass out while passing the information onto those who could do things.

"Revan is alive?" He asks, subtly incredulous. It's a stupid question, but even she's curious to how he knew more about all of this Revan business than she did. Given she wasn't the most studious acolyte, she'd have to do some serious reading after all of this.

"He wants you to destroy each other up there." She answers. Whether he believes it or not, is to be seen.

"Have the fleet power down all weapons. Do it now." Marr says to someone she can't see. There's an audible sound elicited from the holocomputer, which she takes as good sign the Imperials aren't firing anymore.

"Your people should have a list of the traitors." She responds, trying to pick out what Lana had said midst their late night conference. Another line is calling, and before she can choose to accept or decline it, Satele Shan is standing next to Marr. Tri'ama tries not to raise an eyebrow too obviously, but is surprised she even managed to get through.

"Finally, an open line." She says, relief flooding her voice. Tri'ama had yet to meet the woman in person, and for a fleeting moment is curious if she would now. This is already the first time they've spoken on neutral terms. It's odd, if she's being honest.

"Grand Master Shan. It appears we have been set upon each other by your ancestor." Marr bows respectfully to her, and she wonders if she should do the same. It's already too late though, and chooses to stand up a bit straighter instead. Tri'ama would be wrong to deny that she was one of the most powerful Jedi she knew of.

"Yes, we were notified by an agent of ours who's planetside. We're taking measures to detain the traitors among us." Satele answers calmly. At that point in time, she struggles to figure what the Grand Master is talking about. There must've been more agents on-planet than she was aware of, and she nearly stores it away to ask Theron when she realizes it is Theron.

"As are we. Given the nature of the threat, I suggest we speak in person." Marr suggests.

"Very well. A neutral location." Satele agrees. Tri'ama throws a look over her shoulder to see a still resting Naji before processing the information.

"There's a pirate town on Rishi. My team will send the coordinates." She gets a simple agreement from Marr before the holocomputer shuts off, and Tri'ama is left alone. She turns back to the Barsen'thor, who as she prods at her, is still asleep. It doesn't seem as if she'll be easy to rouse, and figures it'd be best to leave her as she is. There are a lot of wounds that Tri'ama wouldn't even be able to try and heal (she'd never been taught to do so by anyone at the Academy, Tremel had been more concerned with making her powerful), and instead heads off to find the speeders they'd stashed just behind where the jammer platform lead to. It wouldn't be hard to connect the two, and to just tow the Barsen'thor's behind her to find the pilot that had taken them over. Moving her would be more difficult, as she couldn't just put her behind and hope she wouldn't go flying off. In her current state, it was as if she'd gone entirely comatose.

And just as limp, she finds as she tries to heft her up. The woman couldn't have been more her own weight, but holding her up is rather tough work, even with the help of the force. It quickly reminds her that though Naji had healed her rather well, that most of her minor cuts and bruises still remained with dull stabbing pains. Through whatever mercy there was, she's able to bring her to the awaiting speeders with a tremendous amount of trouble and revvs the engine to speed off. Tri'ama has to drive with her sitting in front of her, which clouds her vision a bit, but is entirely possible. Unlike her, the Barsen'thor knew better than to leave her hair free-flowing, which makes this a lot easier than it would've been.

It's a longer drive than she would've expected, but also shorter in a way. There aren't any Revanites to send them into disarray or any hiding in the shadows of the setting sun. The scenery was beautiful when it wasn't painted with blood. Which, was often the case when Tri'ama visited planets. That wasn't to say she caused most of those issues, but coming upon the awaiting ship, she's more than glad to be leaving. Hopefully, this is the end of Revan and his cult, wherever he's fled to, and she can return to Dromound Kaas and live out her days in relative peace. Or as much peace as the Empire's Wrath could get with the current state of the galaxy.

But, she considers. Is that what she wants? The Empire was the only home she ever knew, the only place she'd ever grown up. It wouldn't be easy to just walk away from such a place, where most of her memories were. How would it be to leave Raegia and Yusaits, those who hadn't made her childhood comfortable but had provided for her as well as they knew how. But was she willing to part with Theron? It sounded stupid in her own head, willing to throw away the seat of power she'd earned just for an ex-SIS agent, but it'd taken years to get others to regard her as anything but Amarillis-Quinn. More to get over what had occurred between the two of them. All she needed now was a good distraction, a good end of an era. Revan had, surprisingly, been both.

It wasn't as if Theron would leave the Republic for her. Tri'ama wouldn't trick herself like that. They didn't know each other that well, and she was afraid all of the desire, the need, the wanting was all one-sided and that she really would go back to her Kaasian apartment alone and needing after they were done here on Rishi. And passion like that only lead to worse flares of power she wouldn't be able to control or situations that would become violent that needn't be.

They're off into the sky before she can even realize it, and she leans back in her seat after laying Naji down on her side. True to his word, Vhob had been gone until she'd called him back, and was still suspiciously looking around to see if anyone was going to try and shoot him down. It isn't until halfway through their return trip that the Barsen'thor stirs from her unshakable slumber.

NAJI._POST_BATTLE_OF_RISHI.

Blistering pain erupts in the forefront of her mind, if not also her head. She tries not to scream out, but clutches her head as if it'll stem the pain. Her vision is still fuzzy, and her mind is swimming as she tries to figure where she is. The way the floor shakes beneath her, for a moment she's afraid that the Wrath really had left her behind and reinforcements for the Revanites had arrived. Her panic is inevitable before she begins to grasp reality again, and opens her eyes against the brightness of the lights, shutting them again as they nearly blind her.

Lights?

Cracking one eye open and then the other, the Wrath is sitting across from her, one leg crossed over the other and her arms crossed over her chest. If she's being honest, the woman looks well, or less sickly than before. Her grey eyes meet hers as she pushes herself up to sit, (she'd been lying down before, though she winces as she looks at the tears and cuts she hadn't been able to heal before losing consciousness) and leans back in her own seat, "Where...where are we?"

"Vhob's ship." The Wrath answers matter-of-factly, as if she hadn't fallen unconscious and woken up on an unfamiliar ship, "We're headed back to the safehouse."

When had that happened? Weren't they just at the jammer station? How had they crossed the island again within such little time? She opens her mouth to ask, but the woman sitting opposite to her answers first, as if she's read her mind, "I drove us over. And no, you're not crazy. I put you to sleep."

"I-what? Why?" She asks, a tad frustrated that the Wrath hadn't asked first. The last thing she remembered was healing her, and then Tri'ama put a hand on her head and then...oh. That made some sense, at least now it did. Naji had personally only learned force soothing because it'd been necessary for most Sages to sooth their patients. She was a Shadow, but as she got further to finding the Children of the Emperor, it became essential to her work. She was curious whether the Sith taught it as a basic ability, considering their faction-typical outlook on things.

Either way, Naji didn't appreciate being rendered helpless like that, even if it had saved her from self-destruction, "Now, now. Don't be so frustrated that I kept you from passing out later. I'm sure after a debriefing you won't have to see me even on the same side of the war again." The Wrath shrugs, her eyes narrowed and piercing into her soul, as if beckoning her to answer the question in the air, what are you going to do about it?

She puts that argumentative thought down somewhere in the recesses of her mind and focuses on the task at hand, "Then what happened afterwards? Surely the jammer didn't elicit some sort of response from someone?"

Tri'ama begins to delve into the more important topics of what she'd learned after Naji closed her eyes (unwillingly, she begrudgingly stashes away that she shouldn't put it past Lana to allow her to be kidnapped, or put it past Tri'ama to put her to sleep), even deciding to take off her respirator so that she could make more sense of what had occurred. There wasn't much to go on, only that the traitors had been assumed to be successfully weeded out from the Republic and Imperial fleets that orbited Rishi. An alliance other than their own, especially between Darth Marr and Satele Shan seemed the most unlikely of what she'd told her, but it wasn't as if Naji had been there to disprove what she was saying. She'd have to wait until they landed to even learn of the new developments.

Though, once she's on solid land again, on one of the landing pads in Raider's Cove, she senses something odd, but so lovingly familiar nearby that she hurries to search for. Once they leave the ship, and Tri'ama pays the pilot a staggering amount of credits, they step back into the winding pathways of the pirate town. Two figures are waiting for her just outside, and though her leg nearly gives out as she picks up speed, once they see her as well the two parties are running towards each other. It happens all in a flurry, the sweet smell of Tarisian flowers on Nadia and the forests of Tython on Felix invade her senses and she's sure they've all shed some tears over their reunion, "I'm so glad to see you both!"

"We can say the same." Nadia wipes at her eyes furiously as Naji hugs her lightly, still careful of her bruises. Her white hair has grown out, even if they've only been away for a few weeks at most, "I missed you, Master. All I had to do was sit around and wait..." Her smile is infectious, her rosy cheeks giving away her childish nature, "And study, of course keep up my studies while you were away." She adds quickly, grinning.

"I'm sure you did. And even if you hadn't, I would still treasure you, my padawan." Naji answers, giggling herself as she brushes a strand of hair behind the girl's ear and out of her face. She turns to Felix, who's patiently waiting his turn for her affections as well. Though she kisses Nadia softly atop her forehead, she isn't as careful with Felix and kisses him hard. He can't begin to understand it, but passion floods through her force signature. He pulls away seeming satisfied as her smile only grows, "I missed you as well, Felix."

"I wouldn't doubt it for a minute." He answers, before handing her a bouquet of flowers. They're beautifully arranged, and even her botanical mind can't identify them all at once. It's a heavenly smell, and she kisses him again just for good measure. His eyes are bright and full of life, but they harden as he looks at something over her shoulder, "Looks like she needs you."

She pulls away from her husband, and sure enough the Wrath is putting away her holocom and stalking towards them with her respirator in hand. Any softness from their discussion aboard the ship had vanished, and she looked more frustrated than anything else. Naji nods sadly to both of them, but puts a flower in her mussed hair as she hands the bouquet back to Felix, "The galaxy will never stop asking for me. I believe I have a meeting with some very important people, love."

"I guess you do." He says, disappointment evident in his force signature, "We'll be waiting for you here when you're done."

"I love you, never forget that." Naji says, and he gives her a sad smile before repeating the sentiment. The Barsen'thor steps away from her companions to meet in the middle of the street with the Wrath, "Are we heading back now?"

"It seems like Theron and Lana have met with Darth Marr and Grandmaster Shan. Our presence has been requested." Tri'ama says clippedly. Their pace is set briskly, and Naji attempts to retie her hair into a more presentable bun, though surely they'd both understand they'd just come off the battlefield. She wonders for a moment what is of her speeder, though quickly remembers they've been stashed on the landing pad. If they're only going for a meeting, Naji would retrieve it later. There are other questions she wishes to ask the Wrath, but figures they're good for another time.

The security detail isn't as heavy as she would've thought it would be, which made sense. If anyone were fixing to attack the Grandmaster and currently one of the most influential Sith known the the wider galaxy, both of them would kill them before a stormtrooper even got a shot off. The conversation isn't immediatly lifted when the two arrive, but Theron throws them a slightly less frigid look that she takes as goodwill.

"...Then we are agreed. A truce for the time being." Satele is just finishing her own statement as they take notice of the two.

"It would appear we've reached an accord, and without a council majority." Tri'ama says, making herself known to those in the room. Naji isn't immediatly aware of what that means exactly before Marr speaks up.

"We both know time is too short for consultations and politics." He answers, his masked face not giving away any of his emotions. As assumed, she can't sense anything from him, unlike Tri'ama who even though she had shut herself off from her, Naji can still sense her apprehension.

"Satele Shan. Grand Master of the Jedi Order. Your intervention allowed us to defend ourselves against the Revanite fleet. Many thousands owe their lives to your actions." Satele says, more relaxed than any of her current companions. Naji had always admired the woman for her ability to always have an idea of tranquility.

"And the all-encompassing rot of the Order of Revan has been excised from our fleets. Now we turn to the matter of Revan himself." Marr says, turning to the real concern of everyone present.

"My agent here has discovered that Revan's on the fourth moon of Yavin, where he believes the last spark of the Sith Emperor resides." Satele noted, acknowledging Theron. Tri'ama isn't audible with her concern, but her concern and burst of fear is felt through Naji's senses.

"Revan intends to return the Emperor from the brink of death so he may finally be destroyed." Marr concludes.

"I, personally, have no issue if the Emperor accidentally perishes. He holds no power over us anymore anyways." Tri'ama says. The woman is right, the Hero of Tython had destroyed him a few years ago, but apparently hadn't finished the job. Knight Atiya would be disappointed, and possibly fueled by his rage for the man. A terrifying thought, which made it good he wasn't along for the mission. His love for his previous padawan would send him on a warpath for the Emperor, and Satele already didn't like him for it

"Agreed, but there's more to it than that." The Sith Lord continues, "The Emperor hungers. If restored, he would attempt to consume all life in the galaxy, and I am certain he would succeed. No one--not Revan, not the Jedi, not you, not me--would be able to stop him." Marr and Satele come to stand in front of the blonde pair.

"Darth Marr and I will be leading a joint strike force on Yavin Four to put an end to Revan's plan. I hope you'll join us." Satele announces. Naji hadn't ever been to the planet, and was admittedly curious about it. Why would the Emperor go there, if not to another planet to cause mass chaos and sate his hunger?

"As do I. For the Empire. And for the galaxy." Marr says. With that, the two of them make to leave. Once they have, Naji and Tri'ama come to stand with Lana, Jakarro and Theron at the table, the two visibly less concerned now that the two powerful force sensitives were gone.

"That went surprisingly well, I think." C2-D4 acknowledged the two's arrival. He's right, for having two warring factions agree to work together to destroy an age old evil, the meeting had gone well. No shooting, no lightsabers had been involved. How long that would last, Naji didn't know.

"Yeah, it's nice to see the Empire and Republic can work together without stabbing each other in the back." Theron says, rather accusingly if she things about it, a pointed glare at the blonde Sith across the table. So it was time for that discussion they'd successfully avoided the last couple of days.

"It was the right move, arranging for your capture. We've succeeded, haven't we?" Lana says pointedly, and Tri'ama's rage is simmering at the edges of her signature. Having three pointed personalities in the same room probably wasn't the best idea, and given Tri'ama's aggressive nature, Theron's affinity for arguing and Lana's sometimes pretentious personality (or at least in her mind, it was pretentious), this was about to be a discussion she didn't exactly want to be part of.

TRI'AMA._RISHI_SAFEHOUSE.

Lana was not about to get away with this scot-free. Tri'ama had been relatively fine up until she said anything, and figured strangulation wasn't exactly outside of her repetoire. Not that she'd consider straight murder of the Sith for this, but they were on the same side of the war and even she was a little suspicious of her. Scratch that, very suspicious.

"Unbelievable. Where's the trust? Huh? Did it go wander off someplace, or was it never there to start with?" Theron asks, visibly frustrated if not also angry. Tri'ama crosses her own arms, pondering on what she should say.

"Lana is right. We wouldn't have even known about the jammer if...well if you hadn't gotten access to their files that way." Naji falters to continue her argument, but Lana looks downright thankful for her input.

"Thank you, Barsen'thor." She says, as if that fixes the problem entirely. Tri'ama is honestly surprised with the Jedi, she'd been so anti-violence since they'd met and now she pulls the, 'Well we have what we needed and no one's dead anyways so it doesn't matter' card? And to think she was going to thank her for her help after they left the safehouse.

"With all that's going on around us, we have to able to trust each other. You owe Theron an apology." Tri'ama says forcefully to Lana, narrowing her gaze. Naji makes to say something else, something that would surely try to sooth all of them but one pointed look from her shuts her up rather quickly.

"At the risk of seeming egotistical, I will not apologize for being right." Her hands have balled into fists against her will, and she tightens her crossed arms to keep from accidentally doing something she'd later regret. Lana has the gall to not even admit it, which only makes her angrier.

"And at the risk of seeming possessive over the safety of those involved in this operation, I say you will." She's quick to add that, to keep from accidentally outing herself to the other two force sensitives to her infatuation with Theron. "Do it."

Lana sighs, but gives in on the battle of wills, "Theron...I recognize I betrayed your trust, and for that I am sorry."

"I say enough of this! We need to focus on the Revanites!" Jakarro breaks the staring contest by standing from his own chair (how the Wookie had fit, she isn't sure) and Naji breathes for what seems like the first time in ages. Her nerves are becoming Tri'ama's, and it's rather uncomfortable for her to be so open all the time. Lana seems unaffected, but she was always so quiet about her own emotions she couldn't be sure if the other Sith even cared.

"Isn't there...anything else you wanted first, T-Wrath?" Theron's trip over his words isn't immediatly obvious, but she realizes that he'd almost called her by her given name instead of her title, as he often did.

The small grin on her face is unable to be hidden, and she nods, "Lana, Naji. I think it's time Theron and I get to know each other better."

The Barsen'thor raises an eyebrow, "I'd like to talk to you first, Wrath , if that's alright with you, Theron?" He shrugs, and the Jedi beckons her outside of the safehouse. Lana and Jakarro leave soon after, and she turns to the woman.

"What is it you needed?" She asks, a little annoyed because she's been pulled away from Theron. It'd been a while since they'd been alone properly.

"I just wanted to say goodbye is all. I'm sure I'll see a lot of you in the coming weeks or months, however long this coalition lasts." She breaks her nervous persona, and lightly grins, "I know this was a trying time for you, Wrath. But I thank you for not making any attempts on my life while on-planet."

Tri'ama is taken aback for a moment, but recomposes herself, "I can't say it was out of the good of my heart, but you made it rather easy to work with you here, Barsen'thor." She fishes for the right words for a moment, without seeming too friendly with the woman. Tri'ama didn't want her thinking they were friends or anything other than simply fragile allies, "I thank you for healing me at the jammer station. You sacrificed your power for me, and that is commendable."

"You're very welcome, Wrath." She nods. Someone yells her name down the alley, and as Tri'ama turns she finds it to be her companions, the soldier and the little force sensitive girl. A pang hits her for her own crew, who hadn't touched down with the Fury just yet. Her grin becomes a beaming smile from ear to ear, and with a small wave, she heads off to them, limping on her right foot. Tri'ama is curious about the nature of their relationship, possibly they were a polyamorous couple. It wouldn't be hard to see why, they were all nice to look at and very friendly towards one another.

But here she was making assumptions.

Heading back inside, she finds Theron leaning against the table instead of sitting now, and she comes to stand in front of him, "I'm sure you enjoy the new Republic ties. Especially with who I assume is your mother."

"I love it. She calls me 'her agent', like it's sheer coincedence we have the same name." He says sarcastically, basically confirming her original assumption. So she was currently crushing on the Grand Master's biological son. Wonderful, "Though it's not like Master Satele raised me, or like we do any mother-son stuff. Just an odd way to refer to your kid, you know?"

Tri'ama has lingering thoughts to her own adoptive parents, but at risk of making Theron feel worse about the situation, she keeps her thoughts about Raegia to herself, "I can't say that I do. But when we get to Yavin Four, you should say something to her. If it's that much of a concern, anyways."

He makes a non-commital noise that makes her heart skip a beat, "Eh, maybe. I'm not really bothered by it as much amused." He stands up straight to look at her directly, "If Master Zho ever told me I'd be putting my life story out there for a Sith Lord, I'd have called him crazy. I'm the enemy--at least, I will be again if we live through it all. Gotta say, though, I've enjoyed this while it lasted."

He's referring to me, is her first thought while processing what he's said, He's referring to us.

A million and one thoughts run through her head, before she throws all previous caution to the wind, and kisses him. He isn't shy though, and kisses her back with just as much force. Even if he will be the enemy in a few weeks, a few months, maybe even next year, this is what she's living for. This is what fueled her passion at the stronghold, this is what fueled her to fight the walker. Her passion had all been for him, and it feels so deliciously perfect to be personified into one man, one person. His arms to go wrap around her waist and pull her closer to him, and being pressed up against him only strengthens it again. She's so hot, but she doesn't care either.

They're connected until her lungs cry out for air, and only then does she pull away, leaning her forehead against his. Her eyes are nearly going cross-eyed, how close he is, "It isn't over yet."

He chuckles, his cheeks flushed a gorgeous shade of red, "And they said if I ever kissed an Imp I'd spontaneously implode..." He whispers, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Her whole body is buzzing, as if she's high on his love for her, on her love for him. It's one-sided, but she can sense just how he feels about her. His passion, his desire is all evident to her and stars does she wish he'd just take her here and now.

"Maybe by the time we reach Yavin Four..." She answers, finally looking at his hazel eyes directly. She doesn't want to pull away from him, but it's a good reminder to their current mission and she disintegales herself from his embrace, though holds his hand in hers. Tri'ama can't spend every waking moment with him, he has a job and responsibility to the Republic, and the rest of the galaxy. As much as she hates that.

"Not the most subtle hint, but yeah--we need to get going." Theron says, his own disappointment washing over her, "I'll have Jakarro plot a route to Yavin Four. Who knows--maybe if we ask nice, Revan will stop." He goes to let go of her hand, but she doesn't want to let him go. He raises an eyebrow, "You have a better idea, don't you?"

"We can spare some time, especially if you travel with me." She offers offhandedly. The clock is ticking on how long it takes to track down Revan and the Emperor, and she'd rather he be by her side as long as he can be without being suspicious to his mother, or Lana, or Naji, or Marr. He's fully surprised by her offer, and smirks.

"Me? Travelling on a Sith Lord's ship. How that would look to everyone else..." He thinks to himself, considering, "What do you plan to tell Satele?"

"I can slow Jakarro down to make it look like you did travel with him." She counters, crossing her arms in a very Theron-fashion. He shakes his head, but his eyes are twinkling with mischief.

"Let me get my things from Jakarro's, and then we can leave." He answers. She beams, but tries not to make it too evident that her successful badgering made her happy. He pauses halfway out the door to take her hand and pull her back in against him, and he kisses her again and again and again. As if they hadn't seen each other in ages, like she'd just come back from war. And in a way, she supposes she has, "You're beautiful, you know that?"

"I'm aware, but hearing you say it is a well-earned bonus." Tri'ama says. He gently brushes a blonde hair behind her ear, caressing her face in the process. He's smooth, and that's a bonus in itself, "I'll give you the coordinates to the ship, and you can drop by when you're ready."

"Sounds good." He considers her for a moment, still holding her hand as they leave the safehouse, "Tri'ama."

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renegade-skywalker · 7 years ago

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Out of the Abyss, Chapter 9

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9: The Powers That Be

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Now aboard a stolen Star Forge vessel from the Anchorhead docks, Vale and her crew formally meet their rescuers. Coincidences abound, Vale knows that the Force has something in store for them, but for her most of all.

3951 BBY, Hyperspace

“So, does anyone care to tell me how you managed to pull this off within, what, five minutes of leaving my shop?”

Vale crowded into the cockpit with the others, shoulders and elbows knocking as the engines revved beneath them. The mystery ship was clearly designed to hold one, maybe two people at most. Glitch manned the controls, her tongue held firmly between her lips in concentration. Orex stood over her, scanning the cityscape as it shrunk beneath them.

Vale couldn’t tell if it was the ship taking off or just her nerves, but her stomach dropped the moment she could finally catch her breath for more than a few moments.

“And whose ship is this anyway?”

“That-“ the Twi’lek started, bitter notes of regret and exasperation in her voice, “is a really good question. But I can definitely say it ain’t ours.”

The Wookiee grunted in rueful agreement.

A blue hand traced the ancient hardware, the girl’s face contorting with concern. She turned to face the Wookiee, who could hardly stand among them, let alone with an HK still in tow. His back arched in an unnatural near-mobius curve, clearly suffering for the lack of space.

“We’ll have to make due for now.”

Before elaborating, she looked around, spotting the small cargo bay at the rear of the cockpit and ushered the rest of them inside. There were several small canisters in the adjoining room along with a refresher and a bed built into the far wall. This was definitely a personal vessel.

“You know what this is, right?” Vale asked Darek in a low voice as he ducked into the cargo bay. He nodded, a dark seriousness overcoming his features. Orex would know of the ship’s origins, too, and it didn’t take Vale long to think of a candidate suitable for the role of its potential owner. The answer only became clearer the more she looked around.

There were several small to medium sized crates piled neatly into the corner, taking up little space, but ancient memorabilia filled the rest of the small chamber, notes and diagrams strewn everywhere. Whoever’s ship this was had to be a collector, and maybe they had docked at Anchorhead to find something specific. Speculation mounted in Vale’s mind, but she’d have to save any half-baked conclusions for later, or at least until she got some other answers, first, and let her muscles and lungs recover.

“First thing’s first,” Asra began, standing between the two strangers once they had all filed inside, save for Glitch and Orex. She pointed to the Twi’lek first, and then the Wookiee, “Meet Mission and Zaalbar.”

Mission shot them a shy wave and Zaalbar shrugged as he finally set the HK down.

“Not sure if you still wanted this,” he whimpered apologetically, the trademark Wookiee gruffness still present in his voice.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vale replied, sparing him a small smile.

“I had the pleasure of going into business with Mission’s brother not too long ago, or at least, I almost did. But Mission, here, warned me about the pyramid scheme he was pulling and gave me a better offer.”

Mission extended a hand and Vale shook it. The girl had a surprisingly firm grip and she flashed Vale a friendly grin.

“It’s the least I could do. Griff can be charming, but that doesn’t make him any less of a liar.”

The girl rolled her eyes at the mention of her brother, crossing her arms across her chest after shaking both Vale’s and Darek’s hands.

“If you couldn’t tell, there are more people interested in you than just the seedy sort who’ll turn anything for a credit,” Mission said, “We were only told to get you out of Anchorhead – alive if possible, given the bounty – and bring you to the Republic.”

“If it’s a Jedi they’re after, I’m not sure I’ll be much help.”

Mission shrugged.

“I don’t know much about it, but I agreed to do this as a favor for a friend. Once there was word that you were in the Outer Rim, my friend sent word. Zaalbar and I happened to be en route to pick up a shipment out of Mos Eisley, so you could say we just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Right.

“Tell me about it,” Asra huffed, “Before word reached us about the bounty, we were about to go looking for the Republic.”

Zaalbar grunted, inquisitive.

“We found some… things. Old stuff, dangerous. We wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands,” Asra explained. “We weren’t sure where else to go.”

Mission looked to Zaalbar, who shrugged back at her.

“Dangerous?”

“Are they any Jedi left? Would your Republic friend know?” Vale asked, her voice low, heavy with unexpected emotion. Vale kept her nose out of Republic business since she was exiled, but after seeing her brother earlier that day, believing him to be dead all these years, she wondered just how much else she wasn’t aware of.

Mission shook her head.

“There are a few,” she replied, looking to Zaalbar as if seeking his approval before continuing, “It’s hard to say. But trust me, this Republic officer you’re about to see? He can help. He’ll answer some questions, I imagine.”

“Some,” Vale muttered under her breath, exasperated.

“Who is this officer, exactly?” Darek asked, nursing a stiff knee as he set himself down on a nearby crate.

“I-“ Mission and Zaalbar exchanged looks again, “We can’t say. We’re sworn to secrecy.”

“Secrecy?”

“What’d I tell ya about the day we were having?” Asra griped. “Speaking of which, about your ship-“

Mission put up a hand to stop her, shaking her head.

“No worries, sister. That thing was a hunka junk, anyway.”

“We never did get that cargo so it’s not like we lost any merch, either,” Zaalbar added, grumbling forlornly despite his concurrence.

“Plus, I’m doing this as a favor. I’m sure a new ship is within my asking power.”

“What happened, exactly, anyway?” Vale turned to Asra now, taking a seat beside Darek herself. It was only now she realized just how exhausted she was and just how much she needed to get straight.

“We ran into these two in the alley, near Czerka. Mission and I recognized each other immediately, and she-“

“Could tell you guys were sneaking around,” Mission interjected, “And it was pretty obvious where you’d come from. Plus, I had a feeling I could trust Asra.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” the Togruta added, dryly. Mission smirked before continuing.

“Not only did we need to make sure you got out of Anchorhead, but we had to make sure you knew where to go. Seems we just helped y’all along.”

Vale had no words, her mind alight with speculation. Asra and Mission continued talking animatedly, explaining how they escaped and what had transpired in the past hour or so. Zaalbar fidgeted with the HK’s remaining parts, ridding the thing of any remnant sand, as Darek put a hand on her shoulder after a considerable silence had fallen over them both.

“You okay?” Darek asked, looking concerned about someone other than Asra for once.

Vale retreated from her thoughts, and felt the ship shudder beneath her. She nodded just as Orex poked his head through the cargo bay door, announcing, “We’ve just entered hyperspace.”

“Did you punch in the coordinates we gave you?” Zaalbar asked with a low growl.

Orex affirmed with a nod and entered the room, Glitch not far behind him.

“What happened?” Darek asked again once a relative silence fell over the cargo bay again. Despite the room’s spall space, his words seemed to echo between its walls, or maybe that was just Vale’s head.

“I saw my brother.”

The words felt alien, wrong, almost. Bile rose in her throat, and it took a moment and considerable effort for Vale to push her disgust and her surprise back down again.

“The man in the square,” Darek replied, knowing instantly.

“Who? That guy?” Mission asked, moving closer.

Vale nodded, feeling numb.

“The Jedi?” Orex asked.

He remembered. Vale had talked about him a lot in those days, even if they were at odds at the time. Fighting alongside her mother, it was hard notto talk about her twin. Anyone that had been with her at Serrocco would know who Aiden was. She conveniently left out the part where their alliances didn’t quite align, not to mention his utter disdain for her allegiance to Revan to begin with, but all her mother needed to know was that Aiden was safe and that he was on his chosen path – wherever that led him.

“I have a feeling he’s not a Jedi anymore,” Vale managed to say, “In fact, I think this is his ship.”

“But this is-“ Mission began, looking to Zaalbar, “This is a Star Forge vessel.”

“How would you know-?” Orex asked before Vale could muster the words, but the Wookiee roared before he could finish.

Mission hushed Zaalbar’s outburst with a not-so-gentle “Hey!”

He grumbled, reluctantly returning his attention to the droid as Mission seemed to search for the right way to say whatever it was she was thinking.

“You’re, what, twenty?” Orex said, his voice even but accusatory. “When the war-“

“Let’s just say, I’ve seen some things.”

Zaalbar growled again.

“Correction: we.”

“Lemme guess,” Asra began, drawling and sarcastic, “You’re not at liberty to say?”

Mission frowned, but eventually nodded.

“I’m not exactly sure,” she admitted. “They weren’t really clear on the details.”

Whatever bad feeling had taken root when Vale stepped foot on Anchorhead spread ten-fold, even more so than her reaction to the sight of the holocrons at the abandoned site. This all tied together somehow. All of this was meant to happen. Her training would tell her that there was no such thing as coincidence, only the Force.

Vale looked at Orex, and despite his frustration she felt as if he was silently reaching the same conclusion. Maybe not anything relating to the Force, but that none of this was a coincidence, and that did not bode well.

“I’m sorry, I really am. All I was instructed to do was to bring you to the Republic.”

Mission’s voice was apologetic but defensive.

“The coordinates I gave your girl were random, or as random as they could be. Even I don't exactly know where we're going," the Twi’lek shrugged in defeat, "All I know is that once we drop out of hyperspace, we find the nearest space station, and wherever that happens to be, the Republic will be waiting for General Valen to take her to Telos."

General Valen. There it was again. In her mind, Vale always knew who she was and who she had been, but hearing her given name from the mouths of others still set her on edge. It had been far too long.

Mission and Asra continued speaking, Darek and Orex listening on as they recounted their steps back on Anchorhead and discussed the holocrons in as few words as possible to ensure their safe passage. For a moment, everyone else fell away, and all that remained was Vale and the ship.

The damn thing even smelled like him. She could almost laugh. After all these years, she could still detect her brother’s scent, the smell of his hair and the same soap he’d used for years. It was here. Some things really don’t ever change. The ship was irrefutably his.

She stood slowly, and began to meander, reminisce.

The crates stacked into the corner were locked. Vale figured she could guess the dolt’s password in a heartbeat. She was always good at that. But instead of hazarding any predictions, she moved on to the diagrams and maps pinned up along a corner of the far-right wall – Aiden’s makeshift “desk”, she presumed.

His handwriting had changed little. Small, uniform letters littered pages upon pages, and she smirked at his enduring preference for paper over datapads. The Archives are filled with them, he’d say, annoyed with her asking, there’s only so much fluorescent white-blue, or whatever the kriffing color is, that the human eye can take in.

A smile crept across her mouth at the thought, retreating to memory as it eclipsed her more recent ones. As to be expected, Aiden’s notes pertained to ancient artifacts, asking questions (no doubt, to himself) about origins, lore, and any inherent properties relating to the pieces he outlined in excruciating detail. It was not long before Vale came upon the notes he had concerning the holocrons once buried beneath the Dune Sea.

His records spared little information, only detailing the story she had heard upon first arriving in Anchorhead. The only indication that Aiden had known the source of the ruse or the true nature of the crystals themselves was an adjoining sketch of what very much resembled the crystals they found there, only his rendering more closely resembled a modern holocron, or at least some hybrid version of the old and new, with a note attached, reading: Korriban, ancient, pre-Hyperspace War. Several question marks adorned his query, but there were no further notes besides.

So, he hadn’t been here for her. The coincidences were piling up by the moment, and it was only a matter of time until he caught up with them, if he really wanted these things so badly. Though his transcripts divulged little, she doubted he knew much more than they did, but it was a start, and yet…

“How are we getting rid of this ship?” she asked the rest of them, completely unsure what the current topic of conversation was now. It was less accusatory and more of a call to action. Whatever talking transpired in the time she contemplated her brother’s things stilled to a quiet, and the others looked to one another for an answer.

“If this is a Star Forge vessel-“ she started.

“It most certainly came from Revan’s Sith,” Orex finished.

Vale faced them now, turning away from her brother’s work.

“Or Malak’s,” she added, though the name felt bitter on her tongue.

“So there are Sith left, but where would they be? Where would they come from?” Darek asked.

“There always seem to be more of them, no matter what we do.”

We. Vale, of course, meant the Jedi. Goosebumps rose along her skin as she inadvertently slipped back into her old self, unsure if this is what she wanted, or if there was anything she could do about it.

“Doesn’t matter where they came from,” Orex said gruffly, “The Republic can’t have managed to eradicate the Sith after what happened to Malak. Some might have fled, I’d imagine. It could be they who pulled off whatever happened at Katarr.”

Orex shook his head, thinking.

“And who knows what they’d do if we stole from them,” Darek added.

“Or knowingly hindered one of their own,” Vale heard herself say. The thought was fresh, but the idea that by one of them she meant Aiden still felt wrong to her, and unendingly weird.

Nonetheless, Vale raised a hand and watched as her fingers graced the pages of the diagram in front of her, almost as if she were an onlooker watching as her limbs acted of their own accord. She tore the page from the wall, and handed it to Orex.

“He knows about the holocrons,” she said, her voice hoarse and low. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Orex plucked the loose page from her hand, squinting at the paper as if he had never seen anything other than a datapad before - and maybe he hadn’t. After a moment, he looked back up at her, brows furrowed, as he handed the page off to Darek. Asra looked over the Zabrak’s shoulder, glancing at Vale all the while.

Mission’s eyes darted between the three of them, finally settling on Zaalbar as she stated, “I’ll contact my people.”

Her tone was still serious despite the youthful melody of her voice, and the Twi’lek ducked out of the cargo bay and back into the cockpit.

“I don’t like this,” Vale started, “I don’t like any of this.”

“Neither do I,” Asra returned to her side, placing a calm hand on her shoulder like she had earlier that day, even though it felt lightyears away by now.

Vale placed a hand over Asra’s, reveling in her warmth. She avoided close contact with others for a reason, and the reason made itself known like a plague of guilt welling within her. It was borne of an unspoken fear that she would ruin everything, just as she had with Revan and Alek, with Kavar and Atris, with Aiden and everyone else.

It was strange, really, how Vale had avoided making any connections whatsoever for the past nine years, and yet in a mere 48 hours had formed such strong bonds with the people surrounding her that she could not possibly imagine a life without them now. It was not unlike the war. As many memories resurfaced, the feeling of comradery was the eeriest. She made friends easily at the Academy, though the Masters remained wary of her, and the soldiers that fought alongside her were easy to follow her lead. There was never any question. For others, bonds were made as easily as they were broken - but not with Vale, not with Eden Valen. Bonds were made for life. She could tell in the way Orex still looked to her for guidance and approval, even though he assumed the role of leader himself now. And she could tell in the way Aiden spoke to her after all this time, after all that had happened. And the silence that spanned the time between.

But this would not last for long. It couldn’t. Nothing ever did.

Aiden’s ship yielded little more information in the way of where it had come from, exactly, and who he answered to. All they managed to find during their time in hyperspace were more notes on ancient artifacts, both boring and long-forgotten (as they most often were), and a series of coordinates to previously visited sites – though some coordinates remained encrypted, but for what reason they could not surmise. Vale managed to steal a collection of notes and uploaded as much as she could to her datapad, for safe keeping and further investigation.

Despite what happened at Anchorhead, Vale could not help but feel sentimental. Perhaps it was the fact that she had grown to trust those around her in so short a time and already mourned their inevitable separation, or perhaps it was because she was not quite over her falling out with Aiden and never would be. Perhaps it was both.

Aiden would always be family, if not more than that. He was her twin, and he was once very much her other half. Of all the beings that remained in the galaxy, he was probably the one who knew her the most, despite all that had happened between them. As twins, they had always been able to harness an unspoken insight into the other, as if they knew what occupied the other’s mind, the other’s heart, without ever asking. They just knew.

In spite of the all the questions that dogged her, Vale had a feeling she understood Aiden more now than ever before. But now was not the time to dwell on such things. There was work to be done.

Orex pored over what little else Vale could gather from her brother’s otherwise airtight hard drive. She was able to bypass most of his passwords, having guessed their contents within a matter of moments, but the rest of his files were more delicately encrypted, as if he had anticipated her perusal.

“Korriban,” Orex uttered, identifying a sketched map of the main Sith site at first glance, “And Dxun.”

The adjoining diagram outlined the Temple of Freedon Nadd, and the exact altar they had extracted the first set of ancient holocrons from.

Orex squinted at them with his good eye, discerning the notes and citations, but undoubtedly perturbed by the amount of detail divulged.

“We sent these to Revan and Revan alone,” he said gruffly.

“And Revan turned Sith,” Vale replied, “Whatever runoff there was after the war, Aiden must have joined them. This sort of information may have been common knowledge to initiates, or at least easily accessible. Especially since these things were Sith in origin, or so we guessed.”

Vale almost wanted to laugh. Aiden had cursed her decision to defy the Jedi Council, and yet here he was, a loyal follower of the Sith that followed the heretic Revan’s rebellion. If they ever met again, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. She was sure of that.

“So, it’s just as I feared,” Orex muttered, “There are more of them, who knows how many.”

Vale considered him, scars and all. Orex was as ordinary as they came, compared to a Jedi at least. Orex was as far from Force sensitive as you could get without being completely inanimate, and even still the Jedi Code taught that all living things were influenced by the Force, regardless. But from her time with him, Vale knew that Orex relied on his gut and his gut alone. There was no mystical force supporting his beliefs or swaying his actions, and yet…

“I don’t like knowing they’re out there,” Orex replied, as if reading Vale’s thoughts, though her train of thought was easy to guess by the silence that followed, “After what we saw, after what-“

Orex stopped himself. Vale hadn’t been around for all of it. Dxun was a nightmare, but she could only guess what came after or what Revan’s Sith forces were like. She had no idea.

“We’ll figure this out,” Asra rejoined, her eyes eager and alight with determination, “This isn’t over yet.”

We. Vale’s skin warmed at the sound of the word. Moments earlier, she had slipped. She said we, referring to herself and the Jedi, but now Asra said we and she meant them - here, now - and that felt more real than anything Vale had known since the war.

“We’ll have to, the galaxy is in enough trouble as it is.”

Darek spoke this time, his voice soft and soothing. His even tone, though characteristic of the Zabrakian race, was earnest, and it set Vale at ease. There was enough to set her on edge, and the Twi’lek’s insistence on calling her General Valen wasn’t helping any. At least Orex had the sense to continue calling her Vale.

“What?”

Asra’s hand reached for Vale’s arm again, her eyes narrowing with concern.

“Nothing, nothing,” she replied, aside from the abundant somethings that troubled them. It was good to know that the Jedi weren’t the only ones that cared about what happened to the galaxy at large, and that they weren’t driven by doctrines or long-standing traditions to do so. Vale wondered how many more like Orex or Asra remained in the galaxy, veterans or otherwise, but stopped herself lest she become distracted.

“I’ll talk with Mission,” Vale said, “Make sure we’re squared away before we dock.”

Saying goodbye in her shop was unexpectedly difficult, but knowing she’d have to part ways again was another story. Vale swallowed whatever emotion overwhelmed her and entered the cockpit for the first time since take-off.

Mission sat in what seemed like a daze, gazing at the ship’s controls from afar, mouth open in awe. She jerked slightly at Vale’s entrance, embarrassed for a moment before finding her resolve.

“How are y’all holding up?” Mission asked after a moment.

Vale shook her head, looking for the right words. “Good for now,” was all she managed, looking everywhere but directly at Mission.

The Twi'lek nodded in reply, gathering her thoughts and taking a breath before standing up again and looking at Vale straight in the face.

“I never thought I’d see one of these again,” the girl admitted.

Vale looked at her now, cocking her head. Mission shrugged, and after a moment surrendered.

“I saw the Star Forge. I mean, the real deal.” Mission laughed nervously, perhaps hoping to ease the tension mounting in her chest. “I imagine you knew her? Revan, I mean."

Vale couldn’t help but smirk, but not because she was happy. She was smug, if anything. Everything always comes down to Revan.

“Of course,” Vale responded, crossing her arms, looking out at the marble white-blue of hyperspace, “But the question is, how do you know her?”

Mission inhaled, the labor obvious and almost exaggerated as if she needed to gather an extensive amount of energy to tell the tale and buy herself time before figuring out where to start.

“I met her on Taris," Mission finally exaled, "But back then she was going by Nevarra.”

Nevarra. Vale had used that name, too. The girl didn't notice, and Mission continued without pressing the issue.

“I didn’t know who she really was, none of us did. I suspect you heard about what the Jedi did to her?”

Vale nodded soberly.

“She was just, I don’t know, a Republic soldier, trying to do the right thing. She did right by me. She-“ Mission stopped herself, looking away before continuing, “She helped me. She was… she was a true friend.”

Though she had said little, Vale could feel the weight in Mission’s words.

“She has that sort of effect on people,” Vale said, moving closer to the navicomputer on the side wall. Her eyes scanned the read-out of nearby planets, realizing that this was the most she had traveled in quite some time, and wondered where Revan was now. She had been on Tatooine, yes, and Vale had a feeling she was merely following in her old Master’s footsteps. This encounter was only further evidence.

“Did you-?” Mission asked, trailing off before she could finish.

Vale turned to find Mission looking up at her wide-eyed and apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry but-?”

“Did I follow Revan?” Vale conjectured, “No.”

Mission didn’t say anything in response, only cocking her eyebrow in confusion.

“When I knew Revan, she was, I don’t know how else to say it… but she was Revan. I followed her to war, yes. But not after. Something changed towards the end, before Malachor. She wasn't the same. A lot of them weren't.”

The Twi’lek dropped her gaze, inhaling deeply.

“You haven’t said much, but if anything, maybe Revan was more herself after whatever the Jedi did to her than she was before.” Vale wasn’t sure where any of this was coming from. Maybe it was to ease whatever uncertainty plagued the girl before her, maybe she was just guessing. Or maybe it was for herself. “Before they left for the Unknown Regions, Revan and Alek were my friends. I trusted them with everything, and they trusted me. But when they came back, they came back with secrets and no intentions of sharing them. With anyone.”

Mission locked eyes with Vale again as she continued.

“I always wondered what made them change, what happened to them. I have a feeling that whatever we found on Tatooine has something to do with it. I have no idea how it fits into the puzzle, but part of me just knows. I don’t know..." Vale trailed off, "But you do see why it’s important that we transport this cargo, uh, delicately, right?”

Mission nodded, though she seemed caught in a thought, her gaze not entirely intent while searching her memory.

“We went to Tatooine, too, y’know,” Mission eventually said, “Revan had been there before.”

“We ran into some Jawa not long ago, and they mentioned her as well," Vale added,"And the Star Forge.”

The Twi’lek nodded.

“Nevarra- uh, Revan – shared these visions with Bastila. She-“

“Bastila? Bastila Shan?”

Mission’s eyes widened, surprised by the interjection. She nodded, affirming.

Bastila, a few years her junior, had been one of Vale’s classmates - a rival, in fact. While the Masters feared her ability to form Force bonds, they revered Bastila for her gift of Battle Meditation. They were not as different as the Masters made them out to be, or so Vale believed, but despite their similarities, their experiences at the Academy could not have been more different.

“I knew her,” was all Vale managed to say, before asking, “She traveled with you?”

Mission nodded, “We rescued her, actually, though according to her it’s the other way around.”

Vale almost snorted.

“Sure sounds like Bastila.”

The girl sighed, nodding exasperatedly before continuing, “She and Revan shared these, I don’t know, visions of where these star maps to the Forge were, I guess. I think Revan and Malak found them before or during the war, I can't remember.”

Star maps. The Jawa spoke of those too. Vale had known about the Star Forge, but only after the fact, and Alek had refused to tell her the details.

“Were you ever-?”

“I was close with them, once,” Vale said, “but never that close.”

The realization had wounded her back then, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. Revan and Alek had already formed an unbreakable bond by the time Alek had recruited her, and despite their willingness to teach her and call her their protégé, they remained closer with one another, never quite extending the same closeness to her. She craved their approval, and the slight only hurt her further, inspiring her growing suspicions. Yet it was her wariness that saved her. Vale wasn’t sure which was worse.

Mission took her at her word, and did not ask that she elaborate, “I don’t like sounding suspicious about her, I hadn’t been before. But with her disappearing, no word, and then all of this-“ she gestured about vaguely, “I just don’t know. I don’t know if I should even be telling you any of this.”

Vale shrugged.

“I don’t know either, but I then again I don’t know much of anything these days," The bitterness was far more evident in Vale's words than she intended, but it was too late now. “Can you at least take care of these guys? They’ve been through enough hell."

Mission didn’t say anything at first, but she nodded, her gaze intent and understanding. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said finally.

Vale hadn’t thought a lot about any of this on purpose - about Revan, about her brother, about Alek (though she forced herself to call him Malak, lest she get sentimental), about the war, the Jedi, the Force and the unknown plan it had laid out for the universe and everyone in it. Vale couldn’t say that she had been happy these past nine years, but she had managed to find contentment in her time alone. Yet here it was, fast dissolving before her very eyes, and as the coincidences piled up she knew she was never meant to stay away from Republic Space for long. She was right back in the mess.

“About Revan-” Vale began again, unsure of what words might find her lips. Multitudes upon multitudes of questions had hounded her since Malachor, and before, all of them about Revan. Vale couldn’t be sure which one might escape.

Mission looked up at her again, wondering.

“Did she-“ Vale inhaled, “What was she like?’”

The Twi’lek fidgeted with her left lekku, stroking it before placing it behind her shoulder as she searched for the right words.

“I can only speak for myself,” Mission explained, “But she was… she was kind, curious, and infuriatingly stubborn.”

Mission laughed, looking away.

“She understood me, she gave me a chance. She believed me when I said I could handle myself, and she let me. She trusted me, and other than Big Z, no one else ever had. Though, I don’t know how much I’d trust Zaalbar’s initial impression of me, anyway, given Wookiee traditions and life debts and all.” Mission shrugged, “She changed that much, huh?”

Vale nodded. “I was right though,” she managed a small smile. “The Revan you knew sounds more like the one I did.”

Despite everything else still unanswered, a quiet calm settled over Vale as she exhaled again. Mission observed her, smiling in return after a few silent moments.

“She goes by Nevarra now, actually.”

Nevarra, there it was again. After everything, this couldn’t just be another coincidence.

“Nevarra-?”

“Nevarra Draal.”

Vale’s skin prickled, suddenly cold.

No. Not a coincidence at all.

#star wars #knights of the old republic #kotor #kotor 2 #fan fiction #my writing #the jedi exile #mission vao #zaalbar

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