-
The Crimson Covenant
(http://a4.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/131/87039bb6e94948c0a02959868c5202e4/l.jpg)
"No one escapes a bloodline."
Coming Soon.
Only on the Holo.
-
The plan had hit a snag.
Some of the key figures had been compromised and Alexander Winton was left with no choice but to eliminate them. But they were one step ahead. In the Greyson Estate on Naboo, Master Corrin of the Jedi came to the aid of Queen Monica Greyson-Winton in the early stages of labor. They were soon joined by Doctor Henrick Masterton, who had discovered his closest friend and Monica's husband was deeply involved with the Galactic Empire and using a high school athlete named Reef Stratford to spy on their children in the capital.
The Queen explained everything she knew about the Persephonea Prophecy with the Jedi confirming that Winton was indeed using the parents of The Four in a plot far larger than any of them realized. The prophecy itself was merely a tool to align The Four in separate but equally precarious situations that would alter the worlds they knew. Their children's lives hung in the balance. A distressed Celeste Masterton arrived shortly thereafter to find her husband had delivered Monica's secret child, one she kept from everyone in her exile on Naboo. Their reunion was short-lived for the Queen sensed Alexander Winton angrily coming for them.
A choice was made out of a forged agreement between the jilted Queen and a revenge driven Rutherford Gellar.
The Force vaccine Henrick Masterton had recently completed was capable of rendering an individual Force-neutral, meaning they could not be sensed in any capacity. Knowing their time was running out, Henrick injected Celeste and the infant, Dahlia Winton and told them to flee with Master Corrin.
Celeste kissed her husband, said goodbye to Monica and cradled the infant then reluctantly escaped with the Jedi Master.
Alexander Winton arrived and exacted his punishment. He murdered both, entombing Henrick in a sarcophagus beneath the Greyson Estate before staging his own death and that of his wife in a speeder crash on Bakura. Although Celeste was never found, he knew the fear of the consequences would keep the wife of Masterton out of his way forever. Alexander was then free to focus on the prophecy and unleashed a powerful and highly unstable Alexia Winton on the unsuspecting schoolchildren of North Coruscant High to further his own goals.
Meanwhile, Master Corrin had safely transported Celeste and Dahlia to the Corporate Sector where they were formally introduced to Rutherford Gellar, Valerie's biological grandfather. Celeste was unaware that Valerie had any family outside that of her missing CorSec operative father but was soon told another side of the story kept from them by Alexander Winton.
Valerie Gellar had a real family - a mother, Rutherford's daughter Blair and a father, CorSec Major Kyri Patten. Blair had been a young mother, barely seventeen, and the affair with the Major was a scandal he had to keep buried for the sake of his company. Alexander Winton appeared and provided an ultimatum - hand over Valerie or he goes public with the affair, marring Rutherford's reputation to the Direx Board and potentially damaging relations with his lucrative corporate clientele. A father figure, really an Imperial operative, would be placed with the child and keep her close to her half-sister, Kimber Patten. This was the choice he made and when his granddaughter was taken, it broke his family. His wife, Abra, became gravely ill and perished soon after. A heartbroken Blair threw herself from the top of Rutherford's corporate tower. All he was left with was his work, his company, and for years that was enough to keep him going but things had grown dire. His pharmaceutical company, ChemiX, was working hard to find a new drug that would allow them to continue competing in the cut-throat CSA markets and put them back on the top of the game.
To his surprise, Rutherford was paid a visit by Master Corrin of the Jedi many years later with a message from Queen Monica Greyson-Winton. In it, she confessed the numerous sins of her husband and disastrous plans for their daughters which would shape the known galaxy. She also revealed herself to be pregnant and feared the child would also be manipulated and used by him. She conveyed her profound apologies for what Alexander had done to him and his family and begged that her child be sent to him for protection. It was a small but significant offering for all that he had lost. He agreed to help if it meant Winton would suffer.
A deal was made and the child was delivered with her guardian.
Meeting Celeste and baby Dahlia changed his life forever. Their brightness shone light through what seemed like an eternal darkness. Celeste turned to Rutherford in despair over the loss of her husband and estrangement from her daughter, Melanie. They shared in mutual grief. As a gift for his help, she presented him with the Force vaccine Henrick had engineered for Winton and told him of its extreme rarity and value. They would need to produce more to keep them hidden. Rutherford in turn presented this to his board and it was rushed into production by ChemiX. The announcement and initial release of the vaccine sent profits soaring through the stratosphere.
When the news of Alexander and Monica Winton's death reached the Corporate Sector, Celeste was both devastated and relieved. Alexander was gone but with him, her husband and dearest friend. Rutherford struggled with revealing himself to Valerie, claiming his role in her life but trying to explain how he had allowed her to be taken was more than he could stomach. Celeste was desperate to return to the Core for Melanie and Karen, confessing to them all she had kept hidden. She was convinced the prophecy was rendered meaningless without Winton's influence and their children were now in imminent danger from the Empire. Master Corrin persuaded her to stay, citing that her interference would jeopardize them further. They would only be spared if The Four remained together and fought through the challenges they faced. So Celeste and Rutherford waited and when The Event at 500 Republica appeared in the news, a fleeting mention in the aftermath of the destruction of the second Death Star over Endor, she pleaded with the Jedi. Still, he maintained that their survival hinged upon a destiny no one, not she or the Jedi, could change. Their friends may have perished but The Four survived just as the prophecy foretold. She was enraged but he managed to calm her with the truth that Melanie held the power to defeat the Empire. Her wisdom and guidance would see them through to the end.
Valerie Gellar's death at the hands of Phage broke Rutherford's heart and left Celeste disillusioned. They turned to each other once again and a relationship formed from the devastation. When Celeste learned she was pregnant, she was confused and shaken. Although she told herself she would have no more children, she decided to give Rutherford back the family that was taken from him and for all that he had done to help keep them safe.
The twins were born - a boy and a girl who would bear separate names to honor the families.
Gemma Masterton.
Dane Gellar.
For a time, everyone was content. Rutherford had a purpose, a family, and Celeste could care for them in a way she was denied by Alexander Winton and his prophecy.
Master Corrin was called away but promised to return.
The was the last time anyone saw him.
News broke of the war between the Empire and Corellian Confederation with familiar names attached to the headline. Faces of their past flashed before their eyes. The final battle had been fierce with massive losses on both sides and in the process, the Centerpoint Station was destroyed. With it, the Emperor Dementat, her daughter Melanie and their friends, Karen and Kimber.
It was finally over.
This was the fate the prophecy held for their children. Only now, at the end, did Celeste finally understand. There was no going back, no undoing what she had done to help make it happen. The sins of the parents consumed the children they bore and she would have to live with that. She swore this second chance would be different and married Rutherford in a private ceremony.
The only way to survive was to move forward.
The children were tested and it was discovered all three were sensitive to the Force. Without the knowledge of Master Corrin's fate, Celeste taught Dahlia, Gemma and Dane what little she knew of the ways of the Force. She helped show them compassion and patience within the hostile and greed driven Corporate Sector while Rutherford steered his company back to fame and fortune on the growing demand of the Force vaccine.
Dahlia and Dane were more brash and adventurous while Gemma was timid and curious. She would wake in the middle of the night from vivid and unsettling dreams where she spoke of the missing one. When asked what she meant, Gemma had whispered.
"The forth."
*
Unbeknownst to any of them, a group of religious fanatics hidden on Dathomir, known as the Voss-Ra, had watched in secret as the spectacularly horrific events unfolded and now focused on a new threat. Through a blood ritual, their oracles saw the past repeat itself, only this time with potential to unite the worlds in peace. They believe there are remnants of The Four scattered throughout the galaxy. These loose ends could not be allowed to give back what the Abominations they worship took away. Any and all associated with them must perish for their dark purpose. The Voss-Ra devote all their efforts to this sinister agenda.
As the fragile galaxy heals from the destruction of The Four, this is where our story begins...
-
Crimson Covenant - Principle Locations
Etti IV
Capital of the Corporate Sector and base of Authority administration where the Direx Board meets monthly. The capital city of Mondder includes the Imperial Embassy and Mondder Spaceport.
The Gellar Corporate Tower is located in Mondder. Rutherford’s executive office is located at the point near the top below which lays a luxury residence used when he or the family stays over in the city.
*
D'ian System
In the sprawling township of Concordia (CT) there are several expansive estates and manor houses belonging to some of the Corporate Sector’s most prestigious families. Properties are separated by rolling meadows and sparse forests. The male head of each household is the Lord of their respective estates and prefer to raise their children in this quiet world of privilege and commute to Etti IV for business. These Lord’s are almost exclusively owners or high-level executives of Authority corporations.
The Gellar Estate has been in the family for over two centuries and is now ruled by Lord Rutherford Gellar. His wife, Lady Celeste Masterton-Gellar, cares for the children, Princess Dahlia, Lady Gemma and Baron Dane. The Baron is Rutherford’s heir to the title and corporate estate although, officially, outranked by Princess Dahlia. The Baron is the Lord's biological son where as the princess, last surviving heir of the Winton royal Queen, is not a biological relation.
*
The Valor Preparatory Academy (VPA) is an exclusive boarding school within the Concordia Township. The Academy is broken up into three large sections – primary, elementary, and high school – specializing in corporate law, policy, ethics and administration for the young men and etiquette and social graces for the young ladies.
While women are taught similar studies and hold certain positions within the CSA, they are often viewed as valuable mates. Matches can be made amongst families at a very young age which mainly prioritize corporate heirs and heiresses as the most lucrative potential’s offering the best position and company leverage. Financial status drives most forms of competition with only the most entrepreneurial youth scoring coveted spots in Universities and the CSA workforce.
Scandal, intrigue, and manipulation are frequently implemented by and against those within the Concordia Township as the politics of Etti IV infiltrate the insular world they live in.
-
The Crimson Covenant
Corporate Sector Authority: D'ian System
The Cast:
Rutherford Gellar
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/124/d4d09d39e867419fa6509bcebb2acff6/l.jpg)
CSA Direx Board Member, founder of pharmaceutical giant ChemiX and biological grandfather of Valerie Gellar. Biological father of Gemma Masterton and Dane Gellar. Adoptive father of Dahlia Winton.
Celeste Masterton
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/129/be872d560b4f477f94e30645f51eb147/l.jpg)
Force-sensitive psychologist and biological mother of Melanie Masterton, Gemma Masterton and Dane Gellar. Adoptive mother of Dahlia Winton.
Mara Tacofer/Mara Anna Gellar
(http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs51/i/2010/230/e/4/Elisha_Cuthbert_by_HeroforPain.jpg)
Advance HRD created by PHAGE using Valerie Gellar's genetic material and Trade Federation technology.
*
The Four:
Dahlia Winton
(http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/130/785a01d5761f40849d14f3bf7e28c990/l.jpg)
Biological daughter of Alexander Winton and Queen Monica Greyson, sister of Karen and Alexia Winton.
Gemma Masterton
(http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/120/f9a7642b19ae46bd89adc8c95240721e/l.jpg)
Biological daughter of Celeste Masterton and Rutherford Gellar.
Dane Gellar
(http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/136/9e075de9e0b54d3eb6debb22e44c2a65/l.jpg)
Biological son of Celeste Masterton and Rutherford Gellar.
Riley Patten
(http://a1.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/126/af1f71b880c44865a001eca8b0da6183/l.jpg)
Biological son of Kimber Patten and Mod Navris, "nephew" of Mara Anna Gellar.
*
Supporting Cast:
Alka Dawning
(http://a4.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/149/68da5e255a884124bf2754593db80f6e/l.jpg)
Daughter of the Direx Board Prex, D'Ken Dawning.
Roman Nash
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/140/3be56f5e1772409f868b88cf50502a6e/l.jpg)
Son of Chiss weapons manufacturer, Balthazar Nash.
Muriel Monroe
(http://a4.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/149/25203d8d5acc44c69c9fee36c32dd1d8/l.jpg)
Daughter of cineplex superstar, LeVanya Monroe.
Preston Dyre
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/135/6f39dcdecb0d489f9ff8dcc23317b64d/l.jpg)
Son of Cybot Galactica CFO, Finnius Dyre.
*
Garron Prescott
(http://a1.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/61/e6d6d37c648f4e75ab8b61c769b43afc/l.jpg)
Valet and confidant to Rutherford Gellar
Circe Prescott
(http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/146/3c673331f30746afb24ce2f035783431/l.jpg)
Republic Counselor
Kylie Miranda
(http://a4.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/61/dadbe653025e419b81fcd002cdfac07f/l.jpg)
Aide and au pair to Lady Celeste Masterton
Janessa Kain
(http://fc01.deviantart.net/fs37/f/2008/260/f/2/maggie_q_by_fujinx.jpg)
Republic liaison to the Corporate Sector
Kaytt Corinthos
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/155/3f8dc82dea3344e8a128cfa84d0c32ce/l.jpg)
Influential partner in Republic firm.
Vex Sienna
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/141/2de92f6958404f4a940faffe9b7bc125/l.jpg)
Imperial representative to the CSA Direx Board
Kier Kincaid
(http://a2.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/140/3b68520c503e475e981961389fc4046f/l.jpg)
Valor Prep Chin-Bret Captain
Tobias Harkan
(http://a3.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/139/e4e72e6b0b7b416589737a0af512d2aa/l.jpg)
Valor Prep Drug Dealer
Trichelle Corinthos
(http://a4.ec-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/153/9cf583117e7b46ad9f6f44ee9a141db2/l.jpg)
Reigning Valor Prep Queen Bee
*
"In the Corporate Sector, profit justifies all means."
The legend continues...
Only on the Holo.
-
7 ABY
D'ian System
Concordia Township: Gellar Estate
The morning begins as it always does. Service droids sweep through the massive estate and ready the house for the day ahead. There are only two humans on staff that head up the Cybot Galactica service droid fleet. Lord Gellar's valet, Garron Prescott and Lady Masterton-Gellar's aid and au pair, Kylie Miranda.
Celeste turns over in the massive bed to find that her husband has already risen. Rutherford has an important shareholders meeting today and would most likely be with Prescott going over the details of his departure. She stretches and slides her legs from beneath the million thread count sheets. This is right about the time when Miranda enters, fussing over the days wardrobe.
Celeste smiles.
"Good morning, Kylie."
"Good morning, my lady," says Miranda. She is a petite woman who is both attractive and warm, something the children are drawn to. She is rather bookish in style, a bit too conservative but Celeste figures it is just as well.
"How are they this morning?"
Kylie pauses, holding a light blue dress in her hands.
"The wee babes were up early again. Second day in a row. You would think they know its spring by the bright eyes they have."
"And Dahlia?"
"She's eating breakfast as we speak. A bit feisty that one."
"No doubt," Celeste says knowingly, padding over to her. Kylie holds the dress up to ensure it is a flattering color then draws a steaming bath. Celeste soaks in silence in the cavernous bathroom, lost in her own thoughts. Despite the pretense and familial bliss, there is a sadness that tears a hole in her heart. She closes her eyes and lets her mind drift. There is a flash of Melanie's face followed by the destruction of Centerpoint. The photage had been rough and emotionless, taken from a shaky distance. The Star Destroyer plunging into the station is a visual that haunts her on the daily. She always wonders where Melanie was at that exact moment followed by a crushing guilt that where she should have been was here by her side.
The Holonet has been on fire with the news of the Imperial Emperor's death, spinning it in such a way that makes it seem as though he had followed his lover to her grave. The grand romance of it all. Celeste had heard of Karen Winton's involvement with Emperor Dementat and feared the worst. The news channels play it out like star crossed lovers who could not escape their fates. What puzzles her is how Melanie and Kimber happened to be on the station as well and how the reporters all seem to know this for certain. In fact, they have details about her daughter's life Celeste does not and that only serves to deepen the wound.
It's the things she cannot change that hurt the most.
She dry's off and allows Kylie to help her dress. The outfit is expensive but comfortable. Kylie fastens the clasp of the Carteris necklace around her neck and she gazes at herself in the large vanity mirror. Celeste is stunning for her age, defying it now that the pressure of her former life has dissipated. Rutherford's career is high stress but he leaves that on Etti IV. Their quiet and posh little life in D'ian took some getting used to. For so long she was held captive by the prophecy, never making a move in fear it would bring the wrath of Alexander Winton down upon them. They were prisoners and it was a nightmare she never thought she would wake up from. When she finally was able to breath, the reality set in. Her freedom cost her a best friend, a husband and the children they believed were destined to rule the galaxy. She never thought herself a fool but the truth is, she will never live down the deception.
Celeste follows Kylie to the nursery where Gemma and Dane are cooing in their cribs. They brighten at her presence, reaching their tiny hands upwards.
"Which one today?"
"I'll take Gemma this morning."
She bends forward and gently lifts Gemma from the crib. Kylie lifts Dane and together, they descend the grand staircase and enter the dining room. Dahlia is humming softly to herself as a service droid tries desperately to get her to finish her breakfast.
"Mommy!"
"Good morning, my little princess."
"Can we color?"
"After breakfast, sweetie. Your brother and sister are hungry."
"Can I help?"
She nods and Dahlia slips off the chair, bounding over to Celeste. She is striking for a child with emerald eyes and the crimson hair inherited by her biological father tempered with the exotic beauty of the Queen. Celeste lets her help hold the bottle up to Gemma's mouth as Kylie feeds Dane. None of the children are remarkably fussy which she attributes to the ease of their routine.
Rutherford breezes into the room followed by Garron.
"Good morning, darling."
He leans down for a kiss.
"Daddy!"
"Yes, Dahlia?"
"Where are you going?"
"To work, remember?"
She nods earnestly, "Be careful."
"Always."
"When will you be home?" Celeste asks.
"Tomorrow. The meeting should take up most of the day. I'll stay at the tower."
"Good news, I hope."
"Yes, it's very exciting. The vaccine has created record demand and the rival companies are foaming at the mouth. You took your pill this morning?"
Through a series of trial's, ChemiX was able to develop the Force vaccine into both a powder and a pill. This alleviated the hassle of injections to keep them hidden.
"I did. The kids too but I am starting to wonder if perhaps we no longer need it."
"Why would you say that?"
"No one is looking for us anymore."
"We don't know that and the last thing I would want is for anyone to track you here. I promised to keep you safe and I have done that, no?"
Celeste nods, "Of course you have."
He touches the side of her face, "I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you."
"I know."
He kisses her again and waves to the children before heading out of the room. Celeste turns her attention back to the kids but wonders if what Rutherford says is true. Everyone who may have known anything about them is dead. Master Corrin already knows where they are so she has to ask herself...
...who out there would be looking for them?
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
As the ChemiX corporate shuttle hurls toward Etti IV, Rutherford Gellar muses over his life. His new wife and children fill the void left behind by his first which is still a great source of pain. There are so many things he wishes he would have done differently. Fighting for them and taking on Alexander Winton all those years ago may have provided a different outcome than the present reality and spared many people's lives and the heartache attached to such significant losses. He had spent many years twisted in guilt over his actions but now things had finally turned around. Celeste is beautiful and compassionate and Gemma and Dane are the jewles of his heart. But Dahlia, while adorable, fills him with a great dread.
What began as a plot for revenge now holds potential for dangerous repercussions. At the end of the day, Dahlia is still a Winton and the fact that Celeste had first been unwilling to change her name may have raised more questions than either of them were ready to answer. Luckily, they had been able to keep her stashed safely away in D'ian and when the media briefly covered Gemma and Dane's births and asked about Dahlia, Celeste reluctantly supplied the name Dahlia Greyson along with the adoption cover story. Rutherford had made this legal some time ago with he and Celeste named as Dahlia's adoptive parents. Thankfully, the media had not looked into it any further.
For now.
Rutherford has read the headlines and reviewed the photage of both Alexia and Karen Winton. The public files from Coruscant combined with his own investigative digging pulled up quite the colorful story. These glaring facts were shocking, spectacular and horrific. Maker only knows what kind of surprises await as Dahlia grows up but there is still a fondness for her. She is inquisitive and bright. There is potential there. What kind of potential is anyone's guess.
Garron Prescott eases up on the controls as they flare out of hyperspace over the CSA capital world. Massive lanes of traffic snake their way slowly toward the surface. Codes are entered, identities confirmed and they are cleared. His valet is so much more than just an employee. At times it feels like he is Rutherford's only true friend outside his family. So many of the people they know are related to work and appearances must be kept up. The whole thing is rather exhausting and leaves him feeling drained. With Garron, he can be himself and speak openly knowing that it will be held in the strictest of confidence. Garron has been with him for much longer than he has known Celeste. They have shared things they dare not tell another soul such as the fact that Garron has a sister who made it out of Centerpoint Station before the Imperial assault. Circe Prescott is a Republic Counselor who traveled extensively with the Jedi Melanie Masterton and her companions including the pregnant Kimber Patten. She also shared with him a story from the hand and mouth of disgraced Corellian reporter Kent Carlson that blew both their minds. She is considering releasing it to the public as a tribute to those that have fallen. Confessing this to Celeste right now would only deepen the pain she feels and he does not wish to cause her more suffering. The deaths of Melanie, Kimber and her unborn child serve as a framework for the Holonet's extensive coverage. The Sith, the Jedi and the innocent victims caught between the Confederation and Empire. There is even mention of his granddaughter, the first of The Four as they were called, to perish on Corellia.
It seems that sector would be the final resting place for them all.
The shuttle touches down on the platform atop the Gellar Corporate Tower and begins to power down. As Garron collects the baggage, Rutherford walks down the ramp and gazes out over the city of Mondder. Ornate towers and the constant traffic fill the sky. Today he would announce the production of the Force vaccine as a prescribed pill. Since the trials have cleared it will go public within the year. The vials for injection had been a massive hit and the stringent way in which he allowed its release sent the demand soaring even higher. He had listened to the cries for a more marketable and mainstream product. There are so many in the Corporate Sector who hold a deep mistrust for anyone with Force capabilities and wished to fight against these perceived unnatural abilities with a weapon of their own. Rutherford had never breathed a word about his own wife and children's connection to the Force and what that could mean. He and Celeste agreed to discretion and their vaccine regimen will continue to keep them off the radar. He is not in this industry for the politics but for the incredible capital gains it brings. People will always believe they are aging and dying much more quickly than they would like and clamor at an opportunity to live longer and look better. Some even believe they need medication, much like the Force vaccine, for protection against the unseen enemy. Greed and paranoia reign supreme here. People just need something to feel a bit more secure.
Rutherford is in the business of giving it to them.
-TBC
-
Dathomir
The galaxy is in ruin.
So much carnage caused by four very special girls.
In the caves deep within the desolate mountains, the ancient order of the Voss-Ra convene. They gather wearing their black ceremonial robes with large hoods that cover their faces. There are about twenty of them in total but only the five elders form a circle around the altar.
Elder A'kram
Elder Bashir
Elder Ni'jad
Elder Sati
and
Elder Tariq.
Upon the altar lies the sacrifice, a human boy no older than ten, who's central arteries have all been meticulously cut open. He is silent and weak as the blood pours from his body and into a finely carved trench that flows down into the center of the circle of elders.
The chanting is soft at first but grows louder and more intense as the sacrifice nears death. As the last of the life leaves the boy and the blood forms a thin crimson pool, the Voss-Ra raise their arms in praise. Through their dark magic, they can see the events of the past. The faces of The Four flicker in the blood, causing it to ripple. They had worshipped these Abominations and the destiny that foretold their rise to power. One of their own had seen a similar vision as Queen Greyson-Winton and knew of their value long before they were ever born. They had watched them grow from afar, never interfering with what would come to pass. Through the Voss-Ra's deductions, it was decided that Karen Winton would prove victorious over the others and rule at the Emperor's side. When this prediction was destroyed along with Centerpoint Station, there was outrage amongst the members. Some claimed they had believed in false prophets while others speculated that they were merely precursors to even greater saviors who would dismantle order within the galaxy.
Now they perform the same blood rituals which would tell them how to proceed.
None of them are prepared for what they find.
In the pool they see peace and prosperity, a galaxy united by things left behind. The blood separates and sprays outward to form four crescent shapes framed by a variety of symbols, ancient and alchemical, that allude to an omen which would undo the damage done by their bewitching martyrs.
The crescents merge to form a circle within a circle. As the larger of the two fades, the remaining circle expands until it nears the edge of the pool. The blood rises upward to form four figures - two male, two female - with distinctive features obscured. The dripping figures twirl slowly as the elders gaze upon them in wonder from behind their hooded robes. The figures pop like bubbles, blood falling and sloshing then flash burning a dark black before hardening and turning into a thick gray ash that swirls up and disappears into the darkness of the cave.
A tense moment of silence passes between them.
"It seems their bloodlines live on," says Elder A'kram.
Elder Tariq nods, "A legacy if left unchecked could heal the wounds inflicted by The Four."
"We cannot allow this," Elder Ni'jad roars.
Elder Sati interjects, "If they could be turned? Look at the originals. All held capacity for evil. Some more than others."
"There were environmental...factors which allowed these duplicities to flourish," Elder Bashir says. "This will not necessarily be the case now. There are no guarantees and we cannot risk a galaxy united in peace. War and unrest must remain pervasive and rampant. Uncertainty and fear must permeate through all beings. No one shall feel safe."
Elder A'kram agrees, "If they cannot be turned then they will be destroyed."
Elder Bashir's menacing laughter echoes through the caves.
"Hunt them down. Cut out their beating hearts. No legacy can exists outside the one they made. Any who hold ties to The Four must perish."
The elders rise and move to the altar, staring down at the boy before removing their robes and devouring him.
-TBC
-
Ten years later...
17ABY
Corporate Sector: D'ian System: Gellar Estate
The images comes in waves. Places she does not know and has never been. Then he is there, the boy, who has no name but somehow she knows him. He is not overly tall with broad shoulders, light brown hair, pale blue eyes and a button nose. His smile is a bit lopsided and cute as he gazes back at her as if amused. They are approximately close in age as far as she can tell, still children really. His clothes are simple, creased jumpsuit and work boots, in stark contrast to her expensive blouse and perfectly hemmed slacks. She moves toward him when the periphery darkens with shadows that begin to close in all around them. The shadows take a more human form, large and foreboding, that reach out with fearfully sharp claws.
Gemma Masterton wakes up screaming.
Celeste bolts into the room quickly, falling beside her on the bed.
"Sweetie," she calls softly. "Sweetie, you are safe. You are alright."
Gemma shivers and clings to her mother, "They are going to get us!"
"Who? Who is going to get you?"
"Them."
Celeste holds her, brushing the golden curls away from her flushed face. These nightmares have been happening for years. They started as infrequent unpleasant dreams which have become more of a regular occurrence. Gemma always wakes up terrified, usually screaming or calling out about being chased by hooded figures with claws. And it is not just her. For most of her life, Gemma has dreamed of a boy she claims to know. When Celeste would ask her who this boy is, Gemma would only say that he is "the forth."
Celeste had spent many nights discussing this with Rutherford. Neither could piece it together. They lived in such an insular community that everyone pretty much knew everyone else at least by name or reputation. If it was a boy at school, Gemma would know his name. This boy, it seems, was somewhat of a familiar stranger to their daughter. The term "forth" brought back jarring memories from the past. "The Four" is what they called Melanie and her friends both at school and in the media. What made sense back then now stirs up confusion. There are only three - Gemma, Dane and Dahlia.
As far as they know, there is no forth.
So, who is this boy and why is he haunting their daughter?
Gemma's breathing returns to normal and Celeste kisses her forehead.
"Come on, my darling. We have to get ready for school."
Kylie Miranda dutifully enters the room, opening the curtains and laying out Gemma's school uniform - pleated navy blue skirt, fitted white polo, blue cardigan with a golden V on the breast, white knee socks with a thick blue stripe on the top, and a white and navy ascot.
Valor Prep had one of the most stringent dress codes Celeste has ever seen, one which Dahlia consistently pushed the limits of. While Dane and Gemma are only eleven, Dahlia is officially a teenager at thirteen and prone to more of the typical rebellious behaviors. Dane is very much a Gellar, all swagger and innuendo. Gemma, heartbreakingly, reminds her so much of Melanie with the wide blue eyes and gentle ways. Dahlia is nearly an even mix of Karen and Alexia Winton - vain but aggressive yet still remarkably charismatic. Celeste has loved watching these qualities come out in all her children as they have grown. She finds the most exciting time for any mother is watching their children's personalities develop.
Once Kylie has finished dressing Gemma and styling her hair, they head downstairs to meet the rest of the family.
Dane is hunched over a large datapad, skimming the headlines just like his father. His uniform varies slightly from the girls - fitted white button up, navy and gold tie, navy slacks, optional navy sport coat - that he looks like a business man in training. It always makes Celeste smile to watch him emulate his father's morning routine.
Dahlia storms into the kitchen full of angst. Rutherford had vetoed the bared mid drift now exposed when she tricked one of the service droids into shrinking her polo. After changing into another set, she accentuated the basic colors with bright bangle bracelets, hoop earrings and a dab of darker lipstick. Strangely enough, the ensemble worked, proving Dahlia's natural inclination toward fashion. It must be genetic, Celeste thinks, and decides not to press the issue.
Breakfast is served by a series of droids - toast, fresh fruit, juice and cereal - and the kids eat in relative silence. Celeste enjoys a steaming cup of tea with citrus as she reviews the schedule for the day ahead. After school, Gemma has choir and Dane has Chin-Bret practice. Dahlia will be working on a project at her friend Muriel's house. The driver enters the kitchen, signaling that it is time to go. Celeste walks them out to the hoverlimo idling in the massive wraparound stone driveway. She kisses each of them goodbye and watches as they pile in. She waves as the limo pulls away then returns to the house feeling as though the morning went well. Usually there is at least a little protesting from the children but their routine has been in place from the get-go and by now, it has become almost a second nature.
Rutherford is in his study and she raps lightly on the doorframe. He glances up and smiles, still taken with her charm and beauty. She has made him a better person and after a decade of marriage, the passion still remains. He pulls her into his arms and kisses her softly.
"The children get off okay?"
She nods, "Without so much as a peep."
"I'm impressed."
"Well, Dahlia is in a bit of a mood."
He groans, "Valor Prep would have expelled her for exposing that much skin. You know how they feel about sexualizing the children."
"You don't have to tell me," she says. "I agree completely. She is just testing limits. Surely you remember this stage in development. Adolescence is a whole different game."
"It's been a while since I've been around teenagers but I catch on pretty quick for an old guy."
"Hey, that's my husband you are talking about."
Rutherford grins, "Indeed it is. I've got to get going. There are several client meetings this afternoon."
"How is that coming along?"
"I believe we can satisfy all our investors. This new painkiller, Capra, should continue the company's growth on the heels of the Force vaccine success. There is nothing else like it."
Celeste laughs.
"Timed release, easily adjusted dosage, massive success from the trials? I think you have another hit on your hands."
"Let's hope so. Do you have any clients today?"
"Two," she says. "I think the bi-weekly sessions are helping."
"Therapy usually does if you let it."
"I'm glad you think so."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"
He frowns sharply, pausing.
"You know what next week is."
"Yes, I do."
"If you want to talk about it-"
"I'll be fine, Rutherford. I promise."
He nods, kissing her again before heading back downstairs to his shuttle.
"You know where to find me."
Celeste pads down the hall to her own office and sits in the comfortable reclining chair. She reviews her client files for the upcoming sessions and the notes she made from previous conversations. She withdraws the thin stylus and writes herself a reminder to address certain topics to explore deeper issues hidden beneath the surface. It is then that her own begin to creep into the corners of her mind. She knows exactly what next week is.
It is the ten year anniversary of the Battle at Centerpoint Station.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Etti IV
Rutherford Gellar has enjoyed continual success in ChemIX, developing first the Force vaccine then the powerful new painkiller called Capra. The shareholders have all praised his strategies and this has given him certain bragging rights within the Direx Board, namely against the bastard Prex D'Ken Dawning. They share a long standing dislike for one another. Other members had not fared as well over the years. Those that failed to perform were bought out in hostile takeovers that often times grew violent. ChemiX has already swallowed two smaller pharmaceutical firms and is poised to acquire a third. There are no anti-trust laws preventing any particular company from dominating the marketplace. All that matters is the bottom line and presently, Rutherford Gellar is worth a fortune.
These strides in the corporate world have allowed him to maintain a healthy work-life balance and he has been present much more for his second family than he was for his first. He sees now how important this is and as a result, the children, especially Dane, have come to respect him. There was only one minor snag. After Kent Carlson's story was released by Circe Prescott a year after the destruction of Centerpoint, the media was in a frenzy. The story of The Four was turned into both a gritty documentary (Bound by Blood) then a major cineplex feature (Vogue Empire) which smashed box office records. Celeste's character was unknowingly played by LeVanya Monroe, now a family acquaintance and fellow Concordia resident, whose daughter, Muriel, is Dahlia's best friend. Thankfully, the story used aliases and was missing the aspects involving the fate of Celeste and any mention of Dahlia Winton. Clearly the author was unaware but despite everything, it made Carlson's work legendary and The Four more infamous than ever. Through these events, Rutherford was forced to admit what he knew and his valet Garron's connection to the Republic Counselor who leaked the story. This placed a temporary strain early on in their marriage. While Celeste was initially upset with him for withholding information, given her previous history with Alexander Winton and his wicked prophecy, she grew to understand his intentions of never wanting to cause her further pain.
As a gesture to signify he understood and wished to honor her past, Rutherford inquired about purchasing the Bolerathon Tower on Hesperidium when he discovered Celeste already owned it. Alexander Winton and Henrick Masterton had once been joint owners of the luxury tower and upon their deaths, the title and ownership transferred to the spouses. With the Queen also dead, Celeste is the sole inheritor. She had quietly dealt with the broker and arranged for the two penthouses atop the tower to be meticulously preserved in homage to those that had fallen. That floor was then sealed from the public. The considerable title fund also left to her served to keep up with maintenance and allowed the thousands of residents who owned seasonal shares to continue returning to Imperial beach summer after summer. He asked if she ever wanted to visit and one day, she claimed she would. Celeste has yet to venture outside of the Corporate Sector. In fact, she has not left it since she arrived almost a decade ago. Rutherford respects her hesitancy and cherishes the fact that she is so devoted to him and their family. He only hopes the anniversary does not reopen the wounds time has so miraculously managed to heal.
*
D'ian System: Concordia Township: Valor Preparatory Academy
In the massive auditorium, surrounded by members of the chorus, Gemma steps up to the microphone and begins to sing. Her voice has a range and gravity not usually seen in someone so young. When she sings, time seems to slow and all who hear cannot resist following the sounds. In the audience are her two best friends, Alka Dawning and Preston Dyre, silently mesmerized by Gemma's emotional undertones. They are her closest confidants and greatest supporters.
Outside on the adjacent field, the voice drifts and stops the Chin-Bret practice. The coach does not blow the whistle, captivated by the melody. Dane nudges his friend Roman Nash and smiles.
"That's my sister."
"Yeah," Roman says slyly. "I know."
The son of feared Chiss weapons manufacturer, Balthazar Nash, Roman and Dane became fast friends over a shared love of athletics and the dangerous nature of their father's work. He has always had a soft spot for Gemma.
Dahlia walks down the corridor with Muriel Monroe, a beautiful but lonely girl whose mother is a cineplex superstar and often away shooting on location. She and Dahlia met like most kids in Concordia do - at Valor Prep. The academy is ridiculously expensive and highly exclusive. Those that attend are thrown into a competitive social arena where the children of the Corporate Sector's rich and powerful come to learn and manipulate their way to the top. While Gemma's voice brings a smile to Dahlia's lips, she believes her younger sister is far too trusting and sweet. She is so unlike everyone around her that Dahlia feels she must protect her. The kids at school can be ruthless and cruel, qualities that ignite a reaction in Dahlia that has brought her the reputation of being spiteful yet aloof. Muriel envies these things and remains intrigued by the ease in which Dahlia navigates their peers.
They meet Muriel's driver at the front of the school and are taken to the Monroe Estate. Officially, they are supposed to work on a biology project but the afternoon is more entertaining when they dig through LeVanya Monroe's closet. There are many relics from the past they like to try on, staging elaborate scenes before the giant mirrors that line the superstars bedroom.
In the living room, they pour through LeVanya's movie catalog. Dahlia extends a hand a levitates the remote to them on the couch. Like her brother and sister, Dahlia was taught the ways of the Force by their mother. Most of it was dreadfully dull but Dahlia was fascinated by the telekinetic aspects of her power. She practiced extensively every afternoon, focusing on larger objects to move. She has honed and mastered these skills but only revealed it to Muriel. There was a time she would have pursued it further but a tantrum that resulted in an electrical fire when she was seven sufficiently scared Dahlia into reining in her power. There is a part of her that is frightened by the magnitude and implications and she had heard stories of those who had crossed a line they could never uncross with the Force. It is best to be mindful and so she treads lightly.
Muriel is endless delighted by her friends gifts and giggles as they scroll through the list of movies.
"What should we watch?"
"I don't know," Dahlia says, rummaging through the kitchen for a snack. "Pick one."
"Sunset Sky?"
"Too predictable and the male lead is gross!"
"Maker's Fury?"
"Too preachy."
"The Coruscant that Was?"
"Muriel! We already had history class today."
"Vogue Empire?"
"Ug," Dahlia sighs. "That Kimbra girl is sooo lame. Who in their right mind wears party clothes to a war when nine months pregnant? Clearly she's disturbed."
"I think she's adorable!" Muriel cries. "You are totally crazy!"
"Am not! Please, nobody that popular would ever be caught dead running around with a Mandalorian."
Muriel is suddenly very serious.
"But...they did die."
"It's a movie, Muriel. Relax."
"They say it was based on a true story."
"Producers say everything is based on a true story!"
"My mom says your family is related to some of those people."
"Like who?"
"Melania Masters, Valkyrie Gaston..."
"You mom says a lot of things, usually after a few drinks."
"So true!"
"Do you know how many people are in this galaxy?"
"No."
"Me either! Besides, don't you think my parents would have mentioned we were related to such fabulous people?"
"Probably."
Dahlia wanders back to the couch holding two soda's and a bag of crisps.
"That movie is pure fiction. I mean, where's the happy ending? Kiryn gets engaged to an Emperor then blows up on some station? What's the point?"
"It's a tragic romance!"
"More like an epic anticlimax! All that planning and no payoff? Stuff like that never happens in real life."
Muriel groans, "Roman said we don't live in real life."
"Roman Nash? Gag! Why are you even talking to him?"
"He was with your brother. I said hello."
"Of course you did."
"What does that mean?"
Dahlia flashes a wicked smile, "You are totally crushing on Dane!"
"So?!"
"He's a kid!"
"He won't be in a few years."
"That's revolting."
"Say what you will," Muriel laughs. "Your brother is going to be way hot."
"That's it! We've got a project to do."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Concordia Township: Gellar Estate
The children and their friends are returned to the Gellar Estate after their extracurricular activities. The afternoons are getting longer the deeper the season moves through spring. They decide to play a game of hide and seek. Dane volunteers to seek first and begins to count while the others hide. Gemma and Roman dash upstairs while Alka and Preston traverse the expansive first floor.
Alka slips into a room near the end of the corridor, backing away from the door slowly. She turns around and finds herself in a large drawing room. There are massive paintings on the walls in ornate rectangular frames of the Gellar-Masterton family. Lady Celeste's portrait hangs above the mantle, serenely gazing out over the room. Lord Gellar himself is beside her, looking rather stern. The children - Dahlia, Gemma, and Dane - are on the far wall. Other people she does not recognize, probably ancestors of the Gellar family, are hung sporadically throughout the rest of the room. She nears one of a beautiful, dark haired girl who appears sad and lost in thought. The plaque beneath the frame reads: Blair. Next to it is a picture of a girl with similar features but a far more sinister expression on her face.
Alka moves into the center of the room, staring up at them. They look almost familiar, as if she has seen them before. But where? Something her father was looking at? When was that? She must have been so little. She struggles through the fog of childhood memories but finds herself lost in the colorful puzzle.
Dane bursts into the room, "I found you!"
"Who cares?"
His excitement is extinguished by her nonchalance.
"I don't know. Nobody I guess. What are you doing?"
"Snooping."
"Find anything cool?"
Alka points to the portrait, "Who is she?"
Dane crosses the room and stands nervously beside her. Alka Dawning is probably the most beautiful girl he's ever seen and he's unsure of how to deal with that. She has always regarded him coldly, something that has kept him in a constant state of anxiety and suspense. Dane glances at the plaque beneath the picture.
"It says her name is Valerie."
"I can read," Alka snaps. "What do you know about her?"
"She's...a Gellar. I'm not sure. Nothing much. She looks a little scary."
"Did you ask?"
"My father doesn't like to talk about the past."
Alka turns to him, hazel eyes focused on his face. It's the first interesting thing he's ever said to her and it deserves proper attention.
"I guess that's something we have in common."
"It is? I mean, that's awesome."
"My father will barely speak about things that happened last week let alone years ago. My mother says he's withholding. Whatever that means."
"Maybe it's too painful."
Alka arches a brow, "Why do you say that?"
Dane shrugs, trying to cover his nervousness with a certain charm not fully developed.
"I've heard my parents talking. They think I'm not listening. My mother has a lot of pain in her past, pain my father has tried to make better."
"What kind of pain?"
"I don't know."
She smiles now, watching him squirm.
"You don't know or you don't care? There is a difference."
"They are adults, Alka. They had lives before us. Maybe they weren't so great."
"Maybe you are right."
Their eyes linger on one another. Something passes between them.
Dahlia looms in the doorway.
"Aren't you supposed to be looking for everyone? They were relatively easy to find."
Dane steps away from Alka, "We were just talking."
"Uh huh," his sister says with a devious grin. "Perhaps you should tell Gemma that her bedroom is not the wisest choice for a hiding spot. Roman was in dad's study and Preston, for whatever reason, was helping himself to a snack in the kitchen. Seriously, Dane, your friends are no good at this."
"Who says they have to be?" Alka says, gaze narrowed. "It's just a game."
Dahlia holds up her arms in mock-surrender, "Easy there, trigger. No one asked you."
Alka rolls her eyes up.
"Don't you have an elsewhere to be? Like, say, your own home?"
Alka turns to Dane, "I'll see you later."
"Yeah," Dane says wearily. "Later."
Alka stalks past Dahlia and disappears down the hall. A tense moment of silence passes between them. Dane finally sighs.
"Why are you so mean to her?"
"Don't even get me started."
"No, Dahl, I want to know."
Dahlia shakes her head, "She's a spoiled brat and her father is like, dad's worst nightmare on the Direx Board."
"You're a spoiled brat!"
"True but I'm older so I wear it well. Actually, I wear everything well."
Dane is trembling with anger and he storms out of the room, "I'm telling mom!"
"Go ahead," Dahlia calls after him. "But be warned. Alka Dawning is trouble."
-TBC
-
Etti IV
Surface: Mondder
The emergency session of the Direx Board has been called by Prex D'Ken Dawning and while Rutherford is less than thrilled, he leaves the Gellar Corporate Tower and arrives promptly. When he enters the central chamber, several members are shouting at one another, a riotous din that grates on his nerves. Once he is seated, D'Ken calls the meeting to order. It takes several minutes for the voices of the outraged to fade but when it does, D'Ken speaks in a grave tone.
"As we have previously discussed, no one wishes the remnants of the Trade Federation to rise again but it seems our fears have been realized. Under new leadership and a decade of slow yet steady rebuilding, the Federation has requested trade permits with the New Republic which lies just outside the Corporate Sector borders. For years, we have been the sole source of trading with the Republic's emerging galactic presence as well as central ties to the Empire. Our ability to remain neutral yet profitable within their ridiculous skirmishes is absolutely essential."
He pauses, giving his statements a gravity Rutherford does not think they need. Everyone is well aware of how the Federation fell from one of their greatest trading rivals to a punch line he has never found amusing. A series of fateful decisions led to the demise of the Viceroy Medivh, the creation of the Baron Phage and, most poignantly, the death of his granddaughter Valerie at the hands of that mechanical monster. He needs no reminder of their soulless treachery.
Rutherford glances at his allies within the board to gauge the reactions.
Cybot Galactic CFO, Finnius Dyre meets his gaze with a questioning raise of an eyebrow. He need not be all that concerned what with the significant lack of droids within the rebuilt Federation ranks. His bottom line would not be affected. Balthazar Nash, the Chiss weapons manufacturer who supplies the entire Espos with artillery, shakes his head. He stands to lose more with the upcoming contracts to outfit the expanding Republic forces with weaponry.
D'Ken continues.
"We have relied on our reputations long enough. The Republic Senate floor is where these matters will be decided and that is where we shall send a delegation to represent us. I propose we organize a team of our most convincing corporate leaders to present our case on Chandaar and cut the Federation off at the pass."
The motion is put to a vote which is quickly seconded and passed by an overwhelming majority. No one wants to see quarterly losses due to anything, least of all the Trade Federation. As the board disbands, D'Ken emerges through the crowd and approaches him.
Rutherford smiles tightly, "Rousing speech, Dawning."
"Glad you thought so, Gellar. I have an even better idea."
The thinly veiled hostility has always been present in their interactions.
"I'm just dying to hear it."
D'Ken's grin becomes a sneer, "I nominate you to represent us on Chandaar."
-TBC
-
D'ian System
Surface: Concordia Township: Gellar Estate
Rutherford returns home late that evening to find Celeste curled up in bed reading. She smiles at him in the doorway, sitting upright.
"Welcome home."
He loosens his tie and crosses the room, bending down to kiss her.
"I missed you."
"Bad day?"
"That depends."
"On?"
"On if I can face the Republic Senate on Chandaar."
Celeste sets the pad aside, now paying full attention.
"The Republic? What do they have to do with anything?"
Rutherford sighs as he undresses.
"The Trade Federation has reared their ugly heads to request permits from the Republic. Since we have mainly dealt with them up until this point, there was understandable tension within the Board."
"That's reasonable," Celeste says. "Why would the Republic even consider dealing with Federation after all the damage they have done?"
"Good question and they want me to go before the Senate to ask it."
She frowns, "I suppose your personal experience with the Federation could sway the Republic in your favor..."
"But?"
"But will you draw from that experience as a business tool?"
He falls onto the bed beside her.
"Tough to say."
She touches the side of his face.
"Is it?"
"It's not a coincidence that D'Ken Dawning requested my presence. I am just not certain I can use Valerie's death and Corellia's troubles as means to a financial end."
"I'm not so sure his motives are quite that sinister."
"I do. He wants me distracted by the emotional undercurrents and if I fail to convince them he will use it to malign me to the Board. Why don't you join me?"
Celeste gasps, "Join you? On Chandaar? Oh, Rutherford. I don't know."
"Why not? You could bring the children and we'll make a proper holiday. With the kids on spring break, it would be both relaxing and educational."
She bites on her lower lip.
He smirks, leaning close.
"You've been in D'ian for over a decade, my dear. It's time to venture out."
"Has it really been that long? Time does fly."
"I know."
"I love our life here."
"As do I. You have done a wonderful job caring for me and our children but everyone deserves to get away. What are you afraid of?"
"Afraid?" she says, blue eyes shimmering in the half light of the room.
"Long ago, I was convinced it was not safe for us outside the sector. I cannot explain it. Everything that had happened consumed me with the need to protect you and our children. Whatever threat I imagined waiting for us in the rest of the galaxy was just that. Imagined. I want you to live your life to the fullest and I think this would be the perfect first start. Please, for me?"
Celeste nods, considering things. She too had been frightened by the lingering foes of Alexander Winton or enemies of The Four lurking in the shadows. She had thrown herself into the second chance at happiness that these fears had long since faded into the background. Yet still she hesitates. Why not take a chance with him? What is she waiting for? He is right. It's time.
"I'd love to join you."
-TBC
-
D'ian System
Surface: Concordia Township: Gellar Estate
The morning brings a mixed bag.
Dane and Gemma are thrilled for the trip while Dahlia throws an epic fit, demanding that she be allowed to stay behind. Apparently, she and Muriel have serious plans. Celeste is moderately amused with the tantrum but Rutherford puts the kibosh on Dahlia's resistance and instructs her to pack. She accuses him of ruining her spring break and entire life but he counters with the fact that if she remained in D'ian, he'd have the security detail prevent her from leaving the house and execute Muriel on sight. Apparently, Rutherford can play up the theatrics too which only sends Dahlia into quite the state. There is shouting and the obligatory slamming of doors.
"Teenagers," Rutherford grumbles.
Celeste squeezes his hand, "You were young once too."
"Not that kind of young."
"She's testing the boundaries while trying to assert her independence."
Rutherford sighs, "Well, she can assert it on Chandaar in the company of her parents and the cadre of security officers. We're staying at the Ovallus for Maker's sake!"
"I'm not sure such luxuries register to her yet."
"That's because it doesn't involve an article of clothing."
"New clothing from a new place. That's one way to get her on board."
"Doesn't making deals go against your practices?"
"In relationships, yes. Children have to be handled differently."
They wander down the hall to where Dane and Gemma's bedrooms are located. Dane has clothes stuffed into a bag on his bed while Gemma, bless her little heart, has folded sets of things in a designer suitcase. Celeste and Rutherford share a stolen glance, smiling at the charming differences in their children.
"I've got this," he says and enters Dane's room. "Hey, buddy. Why don't you let me help you."
Celeste blows at kiss at Gemma as she braves her way toward Dahlia's room. There is no answer at the door so she enters. Dahlia has thrown herself across her bed weeping much the same way Karen would so many years ago. It's a scene fit for the stage and she finds it rather impressive how these genetic traits get passed along.
"Go away!"
"Such a difficult life you have," Celeste says. "All these people that care about you and want to spend time with you."
Dahlia raises her head, "Dad is being so unfair!"
"Oh? How so?"
"He won't let me stay here. I'm old enough take care of myself."
"That's debatable at best, darling."
Dahlia's emerald eyes flare.
"So you don't trust me either?"
Celeste shakes her head, "This is not about trust, Dahlia. We do trust you and happen to enjoy your company. This is why we wish for you to accompany us on this trip. It's something we can do together. You've never been to the Republic capital before."
"Neither have you."
"Which is why I am excited to go and why I want you there with us."
Dahlia sits up, pulling her long, slender legs beneath her.
"You really trust me?"
"Of course I do and I understand how it would seem unfair from your perspective. Try looking at it from ours. Your father does not often ask things of you. It's rare that we would be invited along on official sector business. That means this trip is so special, he wants us to share it with him."
"But why? What's so important about Chandaar?"
Celeste points to the ruffled dress hanging on the door of her closet.
"Where do you think that was imported from?"
"That's a Nalaa Grey original!"
"She's a Republic designer, right?"
"She's an institution! An icon!"
Celeste shrugs, "Then it will be a shame if you have to miss out. I hear her flagship store is beyond belief."
Dahlia scrambles off the bed and begins to assemble outfits, "I'm coming, I'm coming."
"See, there will be something for everyone. Even you."
"Alright mom," she says, faux-wearily. "I get it."
"Excellent. We leave in an hour."
*
Outside, Kylie Miranda sees them off. She would remain at the Gellar Estate to oversee the house while the family is away. Lord Gellar's valet, Garron Prescott, would be joining them to ensure the details of the trip are handled effortlessly.
The sleek black luxury class shuttle momentarily hovers above the landing pad before racing up into the stark afternoon sky. Once the nav computers have calculated the most secure route, the shuttle flares into hyperspace for Chandaar.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
The shuttle is given clearance with Republic command and instructed to land in the spaceport on Ambaril. The capital city had grown exponentially since the Republic chose this world as their home. Careful construction retained the influences of Coruscanti architecture with a flare of modern design.
There is a steady bustle as the security detail exits the spaceport ahead of the Gellar-Masterton family. The Republic liaison, Janessa Kane, is waiting patiently for them. She is a petite young woman with jet back black hair pulled into a multi-tiered bun, clear brown oval eyes behind black rimmed glasses and sporting a fitted blazer, pencil skirt and heels.
"Lord Gellar," she says, smiling brightly. "We are honored to have you here representing the Corporate Sector. I trust you and your family had a pleasant trip?"
Rutherford nods, "Yes, thank you, miss Kane."
"We have a transport waiting to take you to the Hotel Ovallus. This way, please."
After a short distance, they pull up under the glitzy porte-cochere. Valet's and attendants swarm the transport, unloading baggage and welcoming them to the exclusive property. Garron Prescott heads inside to check the family in while Celeste tends to the children. Dane and Gemma are amazed by the lights and spectacle while Dahlia is busy tapping away on a datapad to Muriel. She reaches out and places a hand over the device, drawing her attention away.
"Pay attention, darling."
She rolls her eyes up and trudges along.
Janessa falls into step with Rutherford.
"The Senate will convene tomorrow morning. I have sent you the docket schedule for the day including the Corporate Sector's time slot to address the floor. If there is anything you need while you are here, do not hesitate to let me know."
"I appreciate it, miss Kane. For now, I intend to get the family settled."
"Understood. I'm available if you need me."
The hotel lobby is exquisite with vaulted ceilings, clean lines and a floating chandelier. Garron meets them near the lifts and distributes key cards. The security detail clears a lift and holds it open for the family.
Upstairs, they enter one of the multi-room penthouse suites. Garron and the detail enter smaller surrounding rooms designated for delegate entourage. Dane rushes to one of the windows and throws open the curtains, staring down into the glowing cityscape below.
"Dad, can we see the Senate hall?"
"I'm hungry, mommy."
"What time do the stores close?"
Celeste laughs softly, "We can see the Senate hall and shop tomorrow. Let's get ready for dinner. The restaurant is well reviewed and world class. So, freshen up and we'll leave in a half an hour."
The children disperse into separate rooms.
Rutherford meets Celeste in the center of the living room.
"You seem tense."
"I am still deciding on how to best approach the Senate. A personal appeal will certainly drive the point home but feels...wrong."
She takes his hand.
"It's not wrong if it's true. The Federation very blatantly deceived and used Corellia. Their underhanded tactics and questionable ethics cost Valerie her life. That coupled with the CSA's solid reputation with the Republic should be enough to put the issue to rest for good."
Rutherford touches the side of her face, "Maybe you should be the one to speak before the Senate. You have a way of putting things delicately."
"Sincerity goes a long way. Besides, ChemiX is one of the central suppliers of prescription medication in Republic hospitals and clinics. They provide life-saving material and have always dealt with the highest level of professionalism. I do not think you need to worry."
"No doubt the Federation will have delegates present as well."
"I'm certain you can handle them."
"I dread these sorts of things."
"You take on more powerful people during a typical work day."
Rutherford sighs, jaw tightening.
"I hate them, Celeste. Truly, I do. They are partly responsible for what happened to Abra and Blair. It destroyed them and nearly destroyed me. Valerie was murdered by that monstrous creation and I feel like the coward who was unable to step up and admit my part in it all. I could have saved them.."
"Shh," Celeste says. "Don't talk like that. We both could have done things differently, both made choices we wish we could take back. But we agreed the past was just that. The past. Despite the regret and hurt we may feel, we cannot undo that which has been done. We have mourned our losses and moved forward. Look at all we have accomplished, everything there is to be thankful for. We have each other and the children and I could not be more grateful for that."
"I love you so much."
"Right back at you, handsome."
He pulls her close and kisses her passionately.
She pulls back and smiles, "Now get ready. I'm starving."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
Sleep comes easily after the journey but cannot keep the complex feelings at bay. Rutherford finds himself awake early, padding across the quiet living room. He curses D'Ken Dawning and his incessant need to provoke him. He knew damn well this would be difficult for him. On the cusp of the Centerpoint anniversary, his personal feelings clash with the professional.
Rutherford showers and dresses in a tailored black suit with a crimson tie picked out by Dahlia. She said something about always wanting to present a hint of color. He smiles, touched that through her teenage haze she was thinking of him. She may be feisty but he loves her like his own.
Celeste appears in the doorway, "Good morning, handsome."
"Morning, love."
"Sleep well?"
"Not exactly."
"It's not like you to be so nervous."
He turns around, "Something about this makes me uncomfortable."
"That's to be expected, given the nature of your relationship with them. I doubt it is a connection they are aware of so you need not worry. Focus on the task at hand and you will do just fine."
The door chime sounds.
Celeste tightens the light blue robe around her and answers it.
Janessa Kane is standing there fresh faced and ready for the day.
"Good morning, miss Kane."
"Lady Gellar," she says, nodding. "Is Lord Gellar available?"
"Certainly, come right in."
She moves inside and approaches Rutherford. It is difficult to decipher the exact expression on her face but the closest he can approximate is pained.
"Is something wrong?"
Janessa attempts a tight smile.
"It appears the delegate from the Trade Federation is requesting a private meeting with you before the Senate hearings."
Celeste joins them, "That's odd, isn't it?"
"It's...uncommon but not unheard of."
"Do you know who the delegate is?"
She glances down at her datapad, "Mara Tacofer."
Celeste shrugs.
Rutherford laughs, "I've heard the name, some kind of slick negotiator. Did she say what the meeting was about?"
"She did, Lord Gellar."
There is hesitancy on her part that Celeste finds disturbing.
"Well?"
Janessa regains her composure.
"Miss Tacofer specified that it was in regards to Valerie Gellar."
Rutherford's blood turns to ice, face falling. Celeste is stunned.
"She's a relation of yours, if I am not mistaken."
"Yes," he says with an edge to his voice. "She was my granddaughter."
Celeste takes her husband's arm, "Perhaps someone has done their homework."
"A little too well, I'm afraid."
Janessa tilts her head to the right, "Shall I confirm? Please know you are not obligated to meet with anyone from the Federation during your stay here."
"I'm aware," Rutherford says. "But it would be prudent to do so. Where is she staying?"
"At the Mermeia next door."
"Tell Ms. Tacofer I will meet her in the lounge."
Janessa nods, "Of course, Lord Gellar and I am sorry for the intrusion."
Celeste shows her out before turning back to Rutherford.
"You don't think..."
"They know about the deal with Alexander Winton? It's possible. Unlikely but possible. The only people who knew about that deal were me, Major Kyri Patten and Alexander Winton. Patten and Winton are dead. I've told no one but you. That's not an accusation, by the way."
"I know, darling. It just seems strange this woman would request a meeting to discuss Valerie. Maybe she knew her?"
He paces, musing.
"As Governess, Valerie most likely dealt with Federation executives including the Viceroy who succeeded Medivh. Knowing about the deal could cast a shadow on my reputation but it would also paint the Federation in a terrible light. Patten worked closely with the Federation and Winton blackmailed me on his behalf. It would not be a stretch to say the Federation had a hand in it as well."
"So, it wouldn't help their cause here?"
Rutherford straightens and kisses her softly before heading toward the door.
"I suppose we will see."
*
Hotel Mermeia
Rutherford Gellar strides confidently through the front doors and into the lobby. He spots the lounge and does not break stride. Nodding to the bartender, he orders a robust coffee and waits.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Mermeia
While Riley slept, Mara spent the evening doing her research. She knew Gellar's role in working with Alexander Winton and the GURI Project. Gellar had been complacent in the project, allowing Winton and Medivh to obtain Valerie's DNA as a template for Phage's program (and ultimately, for her own). But about his other activities, Mara knew fairly little. Hence the research.
That night, Mara learned about Rutherford's prominence on Corellia and years later, in the Corporate Sector. Another name kept appearing in the reports of him as well. Celeste. Mara found the connection uncanny. And stupid. If he was trying to hide his tracks, he should have done a better job.
The research brought a lot of emotions to Mara. Memories of the past, long stored but not accessed. Her relationship with Karen Winton, Corellia, Medivh, Phage ... all the players in her story. Suddenly coming to the surface. And Mara was preparing to use that to her advantage. For the Trade Federation's advantage.
**********************
The next morning, Mara is preparing for the meeting. Rutherford Gellar agreed to meet in the lobby of her building, a sign that indicated he was intrigued or nervous enough to cede home turf, but not enough for a more private meeting. She looked at herself in the mirror. Eyes and facial structure still bore a resemblance to Valerie, though makeup and a few subtle changes made it less remarkable. Hair was shorter and a lighter color. Gellar might recognize her face, but he wouldn't be staring at a ghost of Valerie. That was for the best. He would already have too many questions about how she knew what she knew. A smart suit in subtle colors and she was ready to go.
**********************
The turbolift took her down to the lounge, and she glanced around slowly before spotting him. Rutherford Gellar. Again, the emotion, betrayal, filled her but she hid it beneath a cool exterior, making her way up to him and offering a professional handshake.
"Mr. Gellar - An honor to finally meet you. I am Mara Tacofer. I've heard so much about you and your exploits. The force vaccine, truly a genius invention. I imagine the Jedi were equally thrilled and frightened by what it meant."
She glanced around, being sure no one else was around before continuing to speak.
"Of course, you and I both know that the reason it was created was because you were on the run and hiding. Now, as for your testimony today, I am sure you intended to cast blame on the Trade Federation for the droid armies of Phage and for the suffering of Corellia. But we know the Trade Federation wasn't at fault. Phage's programming was sabotaged by Alexander Winton. The Trade Federation was a victim, like everyone else, of those who worked with Winton. On the GURI Project. And I know that you worked with Winton, because I have in my possession a copy of the GURI Project files. You and Winton created many victims. Valerie, for example."
It was at this point that her voice could no longer conceal the anger she was feeling toward him at that moment.
"Your own flesh and blood. You let your granddaughter be a sacrificial lamb to Alexander Winton's plotting. I hope that is something that haunts you every night"
She paused, again putting on the more professional tone.
"Anyhow, as I was saying - if you aren't careful about what you say before the senate today, I will take my evidence of your involvement in the development of Phage and the death of your own descendant - and I have a fair amount of evidence - and I will not only use it to embarrass the Corporate Sector, but to utterly destroy you and your reputation. In and out of the Corporate Sector."
She stood up from where they had been sitting, and she offered a smile.
"And please, offer Melanie's mother my best wishes"
Mara didn't wait for him to speak, didn't wait for a response. She turned and walked away, back to the turbolift. At the very least, she knew she must have shaken him. Mentioning the GURI Project would definitely worry him. She only hoped that he would worry enough to not be as forceful before the Senate today. The Trade Federation had enough work cut out for it without the negative imagery of Phage being brought up again. But she had rushed out because she wanted the last word. It wasn't a confrontation, a conversation - it was her getting in what she wanted to say, needed to say, and not letting him justify his actions. Not to her, not to anyone.
TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Rutherford Gellar can do nothing but sit rigid in the chair as Mara Tacofer delivers the information as a blatant and menacing threat. Her words, hurled at him with a hushed venom, are more brutal spoken aloud than they had been within his own head.
The silence that follows her abrupt departure is like a void.
Careful not to appear as distraught at he feels, Rutherford reaches for his coffee and brings it to his lips. It appears the Federation has been playing it a bit close to the chest. He suddenly wonders if D'Ken Dawning is privy to these facts as well. Perhaps that is why he was chosen to represent them. The Sector has done worse. Has he been sent to the gallows with just enough rope to hang himself? He shutters, barely managing to avoid spilling the remainder of the coffee. One thing is certain.
Mara Tacofer knows much more than she should - yet she significantly overstates her hand. The Force vaccine is public knowledge attached both to him and his company. To say that he worked with Alexander Winton, however, is a stretch. He has never heard of the GURI project nor was he involved with it. The files she speaks of must reference him in some way but not in the way she thinks. Winton was very clear in his intentions, acting on behalf of that scoundrel Patten. The Corellian Major's affair with his daughter, Blair, was enough to make his blood boil. Blair had been a precocious teenager who had happened to meet Kyri Patten while he visited the Corporate Sector with others from CorSec during a conference with the Espos. He's not sure how their paths managed to cross but before Rutherford could do anything about it, Blair was pregnant. After Valerie was born, Alexander Winton appeared seemingly out of nowhere but with a very specific purpose. Back then, Rutherford was still building his empire and more concerned with reputation and appearances than the wellbeing of his family.
Giving up Valerie to Alexander Winton had spared him the shame and Blair the scrutiny and judgment of those within the Concordia Township. He thought he was doing right by them all. Winton disappeared with his granddaughter, Blair threw herself from the top of the Gellar Tower and his first wife, Abra, fell ill and died.
All because Patten needed his daughters to be raised together and Winton needed them to be introduced to the others.
The Four.
Then there is Celeste.
Sweet, sweet Celeste.
The vaccine had kept her hidden through the Force but when they married, she once again appeared on the public radar. She had hyphenated her last name out of respect to her first husband, assumed dead after they heard about the speeder crash on Bakura that took the life of her best friend and Dahlia's mother, Queen Greyson. Mara would not have to dig far to find her and make the connection if she was already loaded with intel on the others.
The mention of Melanie's name sends a chill down his spine.
That poor girl.
One could say they had both been cowardly but that's not entirely true. Rutherford could not face what he had done and left Valerie at the mercy of Phage. That is his burden to bare, one that still haunts him. Celeste, however, had every intention of storming back into the fray to rescue both Melanie and her friends from the clutches of the Persephonea Prophecy. It was the Jedi Master Corrin who prevented this from happening, insisting that their interference would jeopardize their lives. What he thought was a crock of shit then now makes a terrifying sense. Perhaps it had to happen the way it did. They all perished for a greater purpose. The Empire was taken down and Corellia was set free. This clarity is not something he has shared with his second wife simply because it would hurt her. It hurts him, deeply. Indeed there were many victims, Valerie and Melanie among them.
So his sins are numerous but he most certainly did not help with the creation of Phage.
That statement stings the worst.
The insinuation alone is insulting.
The anger swells, staining his vision red. When it subsides he knows what he must do. He stands, leaving a hefty tip, and then casually walks out of the lounge. Back at the Hotel Ovallus, he takes a moment. The morning sun is starting to rise as he signals for the valet. A hoverlimo materializes out of the sea of transports which he finds himself climbing into. The drivers voice barks through the speakers.
"Where to, sir?"
"The Senate hall."
"Right away, sir."
Rutherford sits back and withdraws his com.
She answers on the second ring.
"Darling! How did it go?"
He keeps his voice even but firm.
"I need you and the children to stay away from the Senate today."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Senate Hall
Rutherford's security detail catches up with him at the hall led by Garron Prescott. His valet is gravely concerned, fueled by Celeste's surprise at his request to refrain from the hearings. Garron knows when not to raise questions and falls into a steady stride beside his employer.
Janessa Kane is waiting for them and can read the expression on his face as a cue to dispense with the pleasantries.
"This way, Lord Gellar. They are announcing you now."
Now is the time for bravery over cowardice.
It is what Celeste would call a breakthrough.
They appear on the Senate floor as the gavel is struck, calling the meeting to order.
"Rutherford Gellar, CEO of the Corporate Sector's largest research-based pharmaceutical company ChemiX, has the floor."
He steps forward and straightens his shoulders, keeping his head slightly angled upward.
"Great leaders of the Republic, I stand before you as a representative of the Corporate Sector in gratitude for our continued business partnership. We are honored to be a part of your growth within the galaxy. The success of our mutually beneficial trade is based on a foundation of trust and professionalism. We are fully committed to ensuring this union develops into a lasting cooperative effort that provides for the Republic in a sustainable manner."
His eyes briefly scan the room, needing to watch the reaction as he takes the wind out of her wicked sails.
"However, my purpose here is not purely professional. News of the Trade Federations request for permits has reached our Direx Board and while we strongly encourage free enterprise, we also feel this would be a costly and perhaps fatal mistake."
Murmurs echo throughout the hall.
Rutherford's voice remains steady as he reclaims control of his own past.
"Almost twelve years ago, my granddaughter Valerie Gellar died at the hands of a Federation machine known to the worlds as the Baron Phage. My role in her presence there began when she was just an infant. A man by the name of Alexander Winton, working both with the Galactic Empire and Trade Federation, convinced me she would be better off with her biological father on Corellia. As much as it pained me and as much as I regret it now, I cannot deny my actions. The Federation will have you believe this act led to the creation of Phage and that I am somehow responsible for the terror and destruction it caused. These connections were unknown to me until earlier this morning when Federation negotiator Mara Tacofer threatened to use this information as means to circumvent a negative testimony to their true intentions on Chandaar."
He pauses, invigorated by the gasps from the crowd.
"What I will not do is stand before you and tell you I am blameless, that I have not done things in my past that I wish I had not. I have tried to live a life of moral and professional integrity despite claims the Federation will make to the contrary. The past paints a picture but does not define a person. The Federation has alleged the same yet their consistent deception, manipulation and treachery cannot be overlooked. They come before you with claims they are no longer what they once were. Yet their representatives employ the same underhanded tactics to achieve results the Corporate Sector has accomplished on our own merits. In spite of its revamped image, the Trade Federation is merely the same monster with a different face. They nearly destroyed Corellia with their lies and will no doubt attempt the same against my reputation here today. The question remains - will you allow them the opportunity to do the same to you?"
Rutherford takes a breath and prepares his closing.
"The Corporate Sector will never resort to such methods. Our goal has simply been to provide the Republic with the resources you need to evolve and prosper. That is the promise I make to you today. Thank you for your time."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Senate Hall
And there it is, just like that.
Despite his efforts of beating her to the punch, Mara still managed to pin Phage on him. The history angle was a lovely touch not to mention an attempt to highlight all the wonderful ways the Federation can work in the Republic's favor. As each dig leaves her mouth along with whatever else she plans to do, Mara only proves him right. He can handle himself and the backlash but her actions will make her and the Federation out to be exactly who he said they are. The rest of the Corporate Sector delegation is in full panic mode behind him, completely blindsided by the direction his speech had taken. Garron Prescott has not missed a beat and manages to arrange a steady stream of meetings with Senator's choking on questions where Rutherford would go through the motions pitching the CSA's solid reliability in stark contrast to the alternative. That part he has down as it is something he does on a daily basis back on Etti IV. Client relations has never really been a problem before but he had added a new dimension with a type of honesty not usually seen in a political arena.
Instead of fear, he feels relief.
The information Mara Tacofer had somehow amassed is part of an immense guilt he had carried around for far too long. At the moment, the release feels sweeter than the repercussions surely awaiting him both here and back in the Sector. His only worry is that he had complicated things for his family. The last thing he wants is to reopen old wounds but felt it necessary for his own to heal. He had distanced himself from what he had done to Valerie for most of his life and it was time to own up to it. For now, he would put on the game face and smoothly speak in corporate specifics.
*
Downtown Ambaril
After breakfast, Celeste takes the children out into the city. They make several stops at the points of interest recommended by the concierge. The sights and sounds seem to energize the group. It does not take long before their inquisitive nature rises to the surface.
"When can we see dad?" Dane asks. "I thought we could see him speak at the Senate Hall."
"Yeah," Gemma adds, tugging on a golden curl. "He promised."
Celeste chooses her words carefully, keeping the tone light.
"Your father wishes you could, my darlings but felt it might be a bit much for us this morning."
Dahlia scoffs, "What does that mean?"
Celeste sighs, unsure herself.
"It means he's very busy and we need him to focus on his work. Let's just enjoy our day together and we will meet him later on."
Dane and Gemma seem to accept this. They know how important Rutherford's company is to him, how busy he can be and when to leave him alone when he's working. Dahlia, however, eyes her suspiciously before throwing on a pair of oversized sunglasses Celeste suggested she not wear. The security agents hover at a conspicuous distance as they wander through the busy streets. They visit the Republic history museum then stroll through Inverness Park. Celeste keeps them together and tries to enjoy herself despite the concern she feels for Rutherford. He had not elaborated on the com. He made a request and she honored it, knowing there must be a valid reason. After all, he had been so excited for them to join him here. She hopes everything is going well for him in the Senate.
When they reach the Nalaa Grey boutique, Dahlia bolts inside.
Celeste has to smile. At least she's interested in something. Dane asks if he can pick out a bracelet for Alka while Gemma runs her hands along the smooth fabrics of the dresses hanging on awkwardly posed mannequins. Dahlia is already in the dressing room, trying on several outfits which she displays standing on the viewing platform near the back of the store. The saleswomen comments favorably, wondering how someone so young could pull off such daring looks.
Dahlia shrugs, admiring herself.
"It's a gift."
Celeste pays for the items with her card and finally begins to relax until they step out onto the walkway. Reporters come from every direction, cams up and shouting questions before the security agents have a chance to react.
"How do you feel about your husband's statements before the Senate today?"
"What affects do you think his testimony will have on Corporate Sector relations?"
"Is it true he turned over Valerie Gellar to the Galactic Empire?"
"Is Rutherford Gellar responsible for the Phage crisis?"
"How does your husband know Alexander Winton?"
"Any relation to the Jedi Melanie Masterton?"
It is a moment frozen in time.
The picture would be splashed across every news outlet by morning.
Celeste with her eyes wide and mouth open in surprise, Dahlia behind her posing for the cam in those dreadfully chic sunglasses, Gemma in tears, Dane in front of them all growling protectively as the many hands of the security agents reach out on the periphery.
She thinks she manages to say, "No comment, I have no comment at this time..."
They are all ushered back into the hoverlimo in what seems like an instant. Dahlia is wiping away Gemma's tears while Dane sulks angrily with his arms crossed. Celeste can barely breathe, staring at her own reflection in the deeply tinted windows as the limo glides back toward the Hotel Ovallus. The entire incident has caught her completely off guard. She knew there would come a time when the past and present would collide but thought she would have a bit of time to prepare. To get her thoughts in order. To organize how she would carefully phrase everything to the children. To come to terms with it all herself first.
Then she remembers, it's been ten years.
Fighting the stinging her in her eyes and the burning sensation at the back of her throat, Celeste places a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. What exactly happened at the Senate Hall today? One look on any of the news channels and she would soon find out.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
Celeste asks Dahlia to watch over the others and retires the bedroom alone. Normally, she would have protested but she saw how shaken her mother had been by the reporters and their questions. Dahlia finally gets Gemma to fall asleep then returns to the living room where Dane is standing by the window. As much as they fight, she does not like to see her siblings upset.
"Are you alright?"
Dane stares down into the city, jaw clenched.
"Those people upset mom."
She nods, "Yes, reporters have a knack for doing that. That's why you have to be careful with the media."
"You seemed to be enjoying it."
"I was playing it up. I didn't know mom would take it so hard."
Dane turns around, "Did you hear those things they asked her? I think something happened in the Senate today."
"Considering mom forbid us from watching the Holo, I'd say you are right."
He starts to say something but stops himself.
She frowns, "You can talk to me, you know."
"The other day when we were playing hide and seek at home, Alka was in the drawing room."
"I remember."
"There is a picture she was asking about, a girl named Valerie."
"You think it's the same Valerie the reporters asked about today?"
Dane nods.
Dahlia moves beside him and leans on the window sill.
"We have a big family, Dane. There are many Gellar's and Masterton's alike. Some we know about, others we may not. Whoever Valerie Gellar is, it sounds like she was involved with the Empire. That cannot be good for dad's reputation. Most likely someone found out about that connection and used it."
"Why would they do that?"
"To hurt him."
Dane makes a face.
"Sweetie, think about how people act at school. They dig up dirt on others and use it against them. This is just the adult version of that."
"Who is Melanie Masterton?"
She shrugs, "Beats me. A relative of mom's probably."
"They said she was a Jedi."
"Fascinating."
"You aren't the least bit curious?"
"Oh, I'm curious but based on the vibes in here I'll wait until things are a bit more settled before I start prying."
Dane sighs, glancing back out over Ambaril. He is a bright kid but quick to anger, especially when it comes to his family. There are kids that pick on Gemma and her friends. He does his best to stop it. Now people are picking on his parents and it frustrates him that he cannot do more. He considers Dahlia's words about their large family, one that spans generations until something strikes him.
"What about you?"
Dahlia turns, "What about me?"
"You said there are many Gellar's and Masterton's but your last name is Greyson."
"So?"
"So, why don't you have the same last name as me and Gemma?"
In truth, it is something she had begun to ask herself lately.
"I don't know," she says. "I thought mom and dad somehow knew I'd want to be distinctive and set me apart. Or I'm adopted."
Dane's eyes go wide, "Don't say that."
"Well, look at me. Do you know any Gellar's or Masterton's that have red hair?"
He shakes his head.
"Exactly. The Gellar's are all dark and sultry and the Masterton's are all bright eyed blonde's. I guess I'm here to diversity things."
"Have you ever asked mom and dad?"
"Of course not," she says. "That would break their hearts. Besides, it could be like, a genetic fluke. Somewhere along the way one of them had a recessive gene and here I am."
Dane just stares at her.
"Oh, you'll learn it in biology when you take it. Worry less about me and more about mom. She's pretty stressed."
"What can we do?"
Dahlia smiles.
"For starters? We could order lunch."
*
Inside the privacy of the bedroom, Celeste watches the reports stream across the local channels. Rutherford Gellar's admission tops the news with the many commentators discussing his possible motive. Oh, darling, she thinks to herself - what have you done? Highlights follow with a recap of his actual speech along with the Trade Federation's response.
One glaring fact stands out.
He was threatened by the Federation Ambassador.
So that's what the meeting this morning meant and the reason why he asked them to stay away from the Senate Hall. This woman, Mara Tacofer, must know more than he felt comfortable sharing publicly. Yet he turned around and announced it all anyway. It's an uncharacteristically bold move on his part to go public with his past transgressions. She thinks it may not have been something he would have done if he wasn't backed into a corner. Why did he have to mention Alexander Winton? He could have phrased it without naming names. The Federation connected Phage to Alexander and Alexander to Rutherford. It's a spin she is not sure he can untangle himself from. No doubt he would be meeting with Senator's all afternoon in an attempt to explain himself. Surely he could make them see reason.
Then there is the sobering reality that this is all out in the open.
What Rutherford had done.
It would not be long before the media vultures circle back for more blood. They would investigate, dig into his past. They already know about her and assume the connection to Melanie. Most of the records from Coruscant were destroyed but her education and practice on Bakura still remain. A part of Celeste had been thankful that she had simply faded off into the background after the destruction of Centerpoint. By then no one was looking for her. They had stopped looking a long time ago. Melanie and her friends thought Celeste was as dead as Alexander, Monica and Henrick. Not that it did them much good. She could have reappeared and set the record straight, telling them all what a monster Alexander had been and that the lives they were leading had all been a set-up. She had stayed hidden partly because of what Master Corrin had said but mostly because of Dahlia.
The secret Winton child.
No one knew about her. Not even Alexander.
Celeste was tasked with keeping her safe and anonymous so that no enemies of The Four would come after her. She does not how much longer this ruse can last, given the circumstances that have come to light in the Republic Senate. Valerie is connected to Kimber is to Melanie is to Karen...
It's only a matter of time.
As she feels their lives unraveling, Celeste breaks down into tears. This admission on Rutherford's part would cast new light on the parents of The Four. Blair Gellar and Major Kyri Patten could be raised and dragged through the mud. Posthumous bad press. With the anniversary looming, their names would become headlines once again. She pulls it together, wipes away from the tears. She would have to be strong for all of them. Rutherford finally let go of his past and for him, that's an incredible achievement.
They would deal with this together, as a family.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Rutherford Gellar is exhausted.
He had spent most of the day in meetings with a variety of Senator's eager to understand his unusual pitch. He spoke openly about the many ways the Corporate Sector could continue to serve the Republic - securing more direct trade routes, minimizing cost, and providing the high quality of products they have come to rely on - all without the fear of Federation treachery inevitably looming over every transaction. He vows to maintain the level of professionalism they have come to expect from the Corporate Sector, one which has served them well as the Republic has grown and apologizes if his statements veered off the issue at hand. He realizes the personal lives of their corporate representatives have no place in their political world and explains this was specifically designed to expose the underhanded tactics employed by those who mean to gain access to the Republic's favor after years of scandal and failure.
Rutherford alleges that while the Federation claims the role of victim within the Phage crisis, they are hardly blameless or naive. The delegates claim of his involvement extends only to a business association with the individual who they hold responsible for the supposed sabotage of the Phage project. Alexander Winton had ties to many factions within the galaxy at large, not just Gellar or the Corporate Sector. The nature and extent of Winton's relationship with the Federation was unknown to him. His relationship with Valerie Gellar's biological father, however, provided a case that her presence on Corellia would be in Valerie's best interest. Rutherford's financial backing provided for her care and extensive education at the finest schools on both Corellia and Coruscant. She grew to become a strong and beautiful woman, a hero who united the sector against the most dangerous of threats. He is proud of all she accomplished and was devastated by her death. The mere fact that the Federation would use this to a political advantage is cheap, unnecessary and certainly not the reason the Corporate Sector had come before the Senate. He strongly urges each Senator to consider their unblemished business record and product satisfaction but separate any personal judgments against him from Corporate Sector relations.
The spiel grows more comfortable and confident with each Senator he speaks with. Some seem to believe him while others now attach speculation about him onto the Corporate Sector itself. It would only be a matter of time to see if his appeal to their sensibilities would affect the outcome.
Long after nightfall, Garron Prescott inquires about his next move. By now word has reached Celeste and his heart aches with what she must be feeling at this moment. He prays she knows his actions were not intended to hurt her or the children. It was something he had to do. Now there was just one more thing before he returned to the hotel. She had spoken her piece without so much as a word in edgewise. She thinks she has all the answers. She thinks she has him all figured out based on the remnants of Patten's immense selfishness and Winton's tremendous lies.
It's her turn to listen.
Rutherford narrows his eyes, "Get me a meeting with Mara Tacofer."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Concordia Township
Alka Dawning and Preston Dyre spend an afternoon playing in her massive bedroom within the Dawning Estate. Even though he is a boy, Preston enjoys indulging his female friends in the things they like to do. He allows Alka to dress him up like a knight while she parades around in a frilly crimson gown. They make believe there is a monster out to get them and only Preston can save her. She flees down the hall with Preston in pursuit, squealing and laughing as he waves the make shift sword through the air as if fending off the imaginary beast. Soon they enter another wing of the estate entirely, one usually reserved for the formal company of adults. She can hear her father's voice, a barely contained snarl and slows her pace. Preston bumps into her but she turns to him and presses her fingers to his lips. Together, they creep forward, keeping close against the wall as they near his office.
Alka is seldom here and would normally return to safer areas but the sound of her father's voice spikes a curiosity deeper than that of typical childhood games. As they near the office door, they can make out his words. The conversation is one-sided so she assumes he is on a com-link of some kind.
D'Ken Dawning is furious.
"What was Gellar thinking unloading his personal baggage in front of the Republic Senate? Do you know what this means? I don't think you do! It makes us look weak, sentimental even. What kind of executive confesses in such a venue?! I don't care if he was threatened! He should know better than to cave under Federation pressure! They threaten the very fabric of our industries with this asinine attempt at reestablishing themselves in the galactic marketplace. Of course I was aware Gellar has issues with the Trade Federation - why do you think I volunteered him for this assignment? Yes, I still have contacts within the Wheel. Keep your enemies closer, right? No, that was not the plan. Gellar was supposed to use that turmoil to undermine their pitch in front of the Senate not expose his soul for the entire Republic to judge. Of course I know who Valerie Gellar is. Everyone does! Hell, her face was plastered across most of the galaxy along with the rest of those gorgeous tragedies. Terrible shame...or not, depending on who you ask. Yes, Melanie Masterton too. Celeste's daughter. Her first one, anyway. Oh, you didn't know? Read up, my friend. It's a scorcher. Well, their personal lives are quickly becoming a liability for us. I'm quite aware of what this week signifies and Gellar's buffoonery will only amplify the issue. He's been ignoring my calls all day and we can only hope he's rectifying the situation with his, and I say this with reluctance, brilliant corporate charm. He's got the chops but this could seriously damage our credibility, especially if the Federation managed to tie him to the Phage crisis and make it stick. Gellar better pray he can salvage this or else I am not sure I can spare him in front of the Board..."
Alka's eyes are wide, clutching Preston's hand tightly. It does not seem like things on Chandaar are going very well. All she can think of is Gemma and strangely, Dane. His face has not left her mind in days along with the light feeling in her stomach when she says his name aloud. It's not a feeling she can place but a part of her likes it. Keeping very quiet, she and Preston tip-toe away from the office, back into their own domain and into their imaginations.
*
LeVanya Monroe takes a phenomenally long drag off her cigarette and sighs. Another day, another project. She leave in an hour to start shooting on location on Tatooine where she plays the controlling wife of a moisture farmer with lofty dreams in a place far, far away. Maker Almighty, she needs to get a new agent. LeVanya stamps out the cigarette, slams the rest of her cocktail and breezes past the cadre of staff she pays to handle all the details.
Muriel is curled up on the couch in the living room, squandering her spring break from Valor Prep. She refused to join her on Tatooine even for a moment but that's not something LeVanya can really fault her for. The planet is a wasteland and the Concordia Township is much better suited for her daughter. At least she would know she's safe. The special task force of Espos patrolling the township seldom let anything get out of hand or allow anyone any fun for that matter. It's just as well.
LeVanya pauses by the couch, glancing down at Muriel as she tries to think of something clever to say. Coming up with nothing, she leaves the house with her staff never saying a word.
Muriel pulls her knees tighter against her chin and wills herself not to cry. This has happened so many times before she doesn't know why it even bothers her anymore. Yet the sting of abandonment is ever present from a mother who consistently chooses her career over her family. The first several years of her life, Muriel isn't even sure she saw her mother at all, coming to know the nanny droids and occasional human help as members of her family. She's never gotten a straight answer out of her mother regarding who her father is. The offhanded and casual "a producer" is all LeVanya would offer. So she retreats into her own world as a coping mechanism in spite of all the damage being done. Her friends lessen the pain but at the moment they are all off on holiday. She flips through the channels, comforted by the fact that she has never been denied anything save for the things that actually matter. The Holo is filled with news, most streaming out of Chandaar.
To her complete surprise, Muriel pauses on a channel flashing a picture of Celeste Masterton and the children in front of the Nalaa Grey boutique. Dahlia is mugging for the cams and Muriel is instantly jealous but as she begins to hear the story being told over the pictures, she is suddenly unsettled. Apparently, Rutherford Gellar had revealed a bit too much in front of the Republic Senate and the reporters are running wild with it. There is mention of names she has never heard of followed by a tie-in she most certainly has.
The Four.
Muriel leans forward, clicking up the volume.
"Valerie Gellar, hero of Corellia, was in fact the illegitimate granddaughter of the ChemiX corporate executive Rutherford Gellar. She was murdered by the droid menace known as Phage, a sacrifice which saved millions of lives. In previous years, Valerie had been known as one of the four faces of Imperial fashion label, Raga'Ana who's often times scandalous behavior made headlines."
Photage of Valerie waving a bottle around in a tight black gown. Photage of Valerie dancing in a nightclub. Photage of Valerie screaming at then kissing a very handsome boy on a beach.
"Rutherford's claims that he sent Valerie to live with her biological father on Corellia have been the source of much speculation in Chandaar. This in the face of the revelation that none other than Alexander Winton, notorious former Vice President of Repulsor Corp, was the instigator of this exchange. Winton died along with his wife, Queen Monica Greyson of Naboo in a fiery speeder crash in the Bakuran capital of Salis Da'ar almost fifteen years ago. Coincidentally, Winton is the father of another famous face, Karen Winton, the socialite and once future Empress of the Galactic Empire. Karen, along with her fiancé, the Emperor Dementat and friends, Kimber Patten and Melanie Masterton all perished in the Centerpoint Station during the iconic battle which the galaxy will commemorate later this week in its ten year anniversary."
Photage of Karen, Kimber and Melanie are shown. Their faces are made up and caught in lights, one that is all too familiar to her. Things begin to click in her mind which now reels with horrifying possibilities.
Her mother's movie, Vogue Empire, rumored to be based on a true story. Names were changed to satisfy the studio executives and allow for embellishments without fear of litigation.
Kimbra Padgett.
Melania Masters.
Valkyrie Gaston.
Kiryn Wexler.
She knew it. She knew it was true.
Muriel is breathing heavily, clutching the remote so tightly her knuckles have gone white. The program cuts back to the reporter who leers at the audience like she's got some kind of vendetta.
"More of the story to come. Stay tuned."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
Celeste wakes to find the other side of the bed untouched. Beyond that, she sees Rutherford's suit from the day before draped neatly over one of the chairs. She isn't sure what is worse - that he came home and did not wake her or that he had to turn around and leave so quickly. She can only imagine what kind of damage control he must be doing at the moment and decides not to become angry.
As she showers, musing in the rising steam, she considers that everyone has their own way of dealing with things. Rutherford has kept his role in Valerie's fate bottled up for so long, she is surprised it had not found another way out sooner. They had discussed it long ago when they first met one another. They were so broken then, a dark and shameful time for both. The conversation had spilled freely like the wine they consumed, loosening them up to tell the tales of their pasts without inhibition. It felt good to confess to someone else, a sounding board with someone who was also manipulated into doing things they wished they had not. She spent years working on herself. He seemed to seal that section of his life off the moment they decided to start anew together.
Celeste slides into soft white slacks and an embellished white blouse. She slides a thick black belt through the loops of the pants and steps into a pair of conservative black pumps. Her golden curls are tousled and falls easily over her shoulders and down to the middle of her back. She's never been a huge fan of excessive makeup and settles for a basic eye liner, some mascara and a few dabs of soft pink lipstick. She finishes off the outfit with two strands of pearls and steps back to admire herself in the mirror. She's not vain by any means but likes to keep in shape and enjoys being healthy.
The door chime echoes through the living room, drawing her attention away. She leaves the bedroom and crosses into the foyer to answer the door. A woman stands out in the hall smiling eagerly at her when the door hisses open. She is tall, thin and very pretty with soft brown eyes and hair that is almost an auburn color.
"Yes? May I help you?"
The woman nods, "I'm so sorry to intrude but your detail said it wouldn't be a problem. I'm Counselor Circe Prescott."
It is then she sees the resemblance to Rutherford's valet, Garron. They share the sharp facial features and high cheekbones.
"Oh, of course! Come right in. Forgive me that we did not ring you sooner."
"It's quite alright," Circe says. "I imagine you've been quite busy since you arrived. Garron called when you landed but I haven't been able to reach him since. I do hope everything is okay."
"Me too. He and Rutherford must be exhausted. They were working all night."
Celeste extends a hand.
"It's so nice to finally meet you."
Circe shakes it lightly, "Likewise. I apologize for not being able to get away much otherwise I would have certainly come to visit in the Corporate Sector."
"As a Republic Counselor, you must be so busy with the expansion."
"I am surprised by how quickly we are growing. So many systems request admission into the Republic they have to hold special sessions just to hear them all."
"That's good news, isn't it? It means the galaxy is ready for a positive change."
Circe nods, "Indeed it does."
They stare at one another for some time. Celeste has mixed feelings about the Counselor. She is the one who released the Corellian reporters story to the worlds and was rumored to have worked very closely with Melanie. The visit suddenly seems less formal than it was only moments ago yet she maintains a smile. Circe appears to be thinking the same thing.
"I do not mean to impose but I was wondering if I could take you out for brunch. I feel we need to talk."
Celeste nods deftly, "I'd like that."
Dahlia appears in the living room, "What's happening? Where's dad?"
"He's still working, darling. This is Counselor Prescott of the Republic. Counselor, this is my daughter Dahlia."
"Hello, Dahlia," Circe says, concealing her double-take. There is no mistaking that face and if no one has inquired yet, they soon would. "It's so lovely to meet you."
"You too," Dahlia says, already bored.
"Sweetie, we are going downstairs for a while. Would you be a dear and look after your brother and sister?"
"Can we order in?"
"Of course, anything you want."
"Consider it done."
Celeste follows Circe to the door before pausing.
"Dahlia?"
"Yes, mother?"
"No Holo."
Dahlia rolls her eyes up and crosses her arms.
"You've made that abundantly clear."
"Just checking, love. See you soon."
As soon as the door hisses closed behind them, Dahlia turns back toward the projector in the center of the living room. Dane and Gemma are still sound asleep, tired from the emotional turmoil of the previous day. She is sick of being kept in the dark. She's old enough to know what, if anything, is going on. Clearly something happened in the Senate otherwise her mother would not be freaking out about possible coverage. Grabbing the remote, Dahlia turns on the Holo.
*
Downstairs at the restaurant, Celeste requests a quiet booth away from any other guests. She can see on the periphery the reporters lingering outside on the street waiting for an opportunity to pounce. She turns away and follows the host to the giant circular boothe near the back.
After coffee and a bite to eat, Circe turns to Celeste.
"How are you holding up?"
"In what sense?"
"I was present at the Senate hearing yesterday and I must admit, it was a brave but unexpected move on Rutherford's part."
Celeste folds her hands on the table.
"We have not had a chance to discuss it yet but in a way, I am relieved. The past has been looming over us for too long, a past I hear you are rather familiar with."
"Some of it, yes but you cannot always trust reporters."
"Kent Carlson, right? Did you know him?"
"Briefly," Circe says. "He certainly had his faults but there was something sweet about him. I was sent back to the Republic before I really got a chance to get to know more about him. He was...determined to tell the story of The Four."
"But you are the one who told it."
"I released what I was given and I apologize if any of it hurt you. That was not my intention. I felt it needed to be told."
"Thank you. I was a bit surprised by the graphic nature of the details but life is never lacking in those, I suppose. I do not mean to be skeptical but your presence here has me wondering why you really came to see me. Something tells me it wasn't purely a social call."
"Not entirely," Circe admits. "I feel I owe it to Melanie."
The name is like a spike through the air, plunging straight into her heart. Celeste gasps, placing a hand on her chest.
"Have I upset you?"
"No, it's alright. This is a conversation we need to have."
After collecting herself, Celeste levels her gaze on the Counselor's face.
"Tell me about my daughter."
"Melanie was a wise and powerful Jedi who cared very deeply for those she held dear. I owe my life to her. After all, it was she who sent me back before the group I was with boarded the Centerpoint Station."
"Why did she go there in the first place?"
"You have to go farther back than that to Arbra. The Republic had a base hidden below the surface which is where we were stationed. Melanie then brought Kimber Patten, Rydan Stratford and eventually, Kent Carlson back to the Haven Base for protection."
"Stratford," Celeste says softly. "Why does that name sound familiar?"
"His brother was one of Melanie's friends on Coruscant."
Celeste shivers, remembering reading of his grisly fate.
"Yes...yes, I remember."
"Rydan, along with his partner, Scott St. Claire, were originally assigned to help protect Valerie Gellar when she was Governess of Corellia. When the Phage Crisis reached a critical point, she ordered Rydan to take Kimber away from Corellia in hopes Phage would not harm her."
"St. Claire....he was an Imperial agent."
"He was, yes." Circe says. "But I was told his loyalties became clouded the closer he became to Valerie and Kimber."
Celeste nods, "Go on."
"The Empire somehow followed Melanie back to Arbra after she rescued the reporter on Tatooine and as the Republic evacuated, a small team made a break for Corellia."
"Why Corellia?"
"At the time, the Confederation had been openly engaging the Empire in battle and Melanie believed they were the only faction with enough resources to keep Kimber safe. The child she was carrying was part of a prophecy, one that would restore balance to a galaxy left unstable by Karen Winton and Emperor Dementat. The High Commander granted us sanctuary."
"And Centerpoint?"
Circe swallows hard, finishing the last of her coffee.
"When it became clear the Empire would bring everything it had against the Confederation, we were faced with a choice. Stand and fight or run and die. By that point we were finished running. We decided to stay and fight. Although Melanie disagreed, the High Commander insisted that Centerpoint was the most secure location within the sector and would provide ample protection during the Imperial assault."
"Why didn't you go with them?"
"Melanie had a contingency plan. She sent me back to the Republic with the information about the impending war to beseech them for assistance if the Confederation forces were to falter. Carlson gave me his story and I fled the system just before the blockade appeared out of hyperspace. When I presented my case to the Republic, they felt differently than I had anticipated. We were still weak then, barely surviving to escape the vicious Imperial attacks throughout the galaxy."
Circe glances down, sighing.
"They felt the Confederation had potential to be just as tyrannous as the Empire and declined to help. The battle would be fierce but the outcome would spell the end for both factions."
She raises her eyes.
"I'm so sorry, Celeste. I tried to make them understand what was at stake."
Celeste places a hand over Circe's, shaking her head. It appears Rutherford is not the only person who needed to get things off their chest. The Counselor also had a burden to bare and she appreciates the honesty.
"It was not your fault."
"I left her there...."
"You could not have known. If you had remained, you would be have perished as well."
"But Melanie, Kimber and that poor child. I have felt terrible about it for such a long time, always wondering if there was more I could have done."
Celeste slides closer, feeling the connection between them. Why had it taken them so long to find each other? Guilt? Grief?
"You did all you could. There are always things we wish we could have done differently, hindsight being so much clearer. Thank you for sharing this with me."
She nods, "I thought you needed to hear it. When I heard you were coming to the capital, I agonized over seeking you out. Garron had advised me against it. He thinks so dearly of you and would not want to cause you any harm. You've been through so much, lost so many..."
"We all have," Celeste says, signaling for another cup for both of them. "The important thing is to value what we do have. That is what makes the days brighter."
Circe sits back, laughing in spite of herself.
"I feel so foolish, blubbering on in such a way."
"Don't. I'm honestly enjoying the company. It's rare that I have someone to talk to about this aside from Rutherford. The women in the Corporate Sector have no idea about anything although I suspect they will after this is all over."
"It does force things into a public light. Connections will inevitably be made."
Celeste takes a deep breath.
"That's what scares me the most."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
The photage is both gripping and explosive.
They had covered the Centerpoint battle in history class at Valor Prep, a fleeting mention in contrast to the events leading up to it. The gory details and the faces of those involved were omitted in favor of furthering the Corporate Sector's agenda. All they were told was that it was a turning point. A key factor in galactic destabilization which allowed for the resurgence of the Republic from the ashes of the Empire and Confederation.
Dahlia cannot tear her emerald eyes away from the images.
Today marks the ten year anniversary and the Holo is consumed by a story that kept the galaxy riveted for years and ended in a horrific tragedy as the Centerpoint station imploded in on itself. Rutherford's statements before the Republic Senate lead off the news that weaves into the past and around four girls who brought fashion and fear into the forefront of the galactic stage.
Valerie Gellar is the first character profile, Rutherford's illegitimate granddaughter who was sent to live with her biological father, CorSec Major Kyri Patten, on Corellia. There she was raised with her half-sister until they were both sent to Coruscant to attend the exclusive North Coruscant High. It was at NCH she met the others who collectively would come to be known to the worlds as The Four. Photage of Valerie flash by - deeply tanned with dark green eyes and a menacing pout framed by her raven hair. Her turn as a model led into her admittance to the CorSec Academy which then launched her meteoric rise to public office as Governess of Corellia. She single handedly united the entire sector against the Federation threat of the Baron Phage and lost her life stopping him from destroying Corellia entirely.
This segment flows into one on Kimber Patten, the half-sister in question and the darling of Corellia. Touted as the most beloved of them all, Kimber smiles and twirls through the photage. Her wide violet eyes, button nose and trademark bangs exude a kind of charm that melted the hearts of many. Her reputation was marred by a stint as an Imperial diplomat, rumored to be the result of blackmail, where she played a part in the death of a Hapan Admiral. This led to a relationship with Imperial Agent Mod Navris who was killed on Hesperidium leaving her pregnant and terrified. She betrayed the Empire to the Hapan Consortium and fled for her life, disappearing for several months. With a bounty on her head and the Empire closing in, Kimber regrouped with one of her old friends and found herself in the middle of the Imperial-Confederation war.
Melanie Masterton, the most mysterious of The Four, came to Kimber's rescue. She was a gorgeous blond with piercing blue eyes who had an affinity for wearing white. Also a model for Raga'Ana, she was rumored to be working with a separatist faction operating out of Coruscant. When the planet was destroyed by minions of the Dark Queen of Hapes, Melanie was arrested on Hesperidium for conspiring with the alleged terrorist group known as La Revolte. In the ensuing Imperial pandemonium following Coruscant's destruction, she escaped and was not seen again until years later when she resurfaced as a Jedi Knight connected to the Republic. Leading the charge against the Emperor and his apprentice and lover, Darth Kyja, Melanie sought sanctuary with the Corellian Confederation before the iconic battle began.
The last face splashed across the Holo is one Dahlia is not prepared for. It is like staring directly into a mirror, causing her to gasp and nearly choke.
Karen Winton, princess of Naboo and Imperial socialite, grew to become a powerful and dangerous Sith much like her older sister, Alexia. Karen's crimson hair, emerald eyes and classic sneer graced advertisements across the known galaxy. Her rise from celebrity to Sith was well documented in the media. She caught the eye of Imperial Emperor Dementat and their romance and engagement sparked waves of press. But the love story ended in tragedy when she boarded the Centerpoint Station with her lover close behind and both lost their lives.
These events, chronicled by deceased Corellian reporter, Kent Carlson became a critically praised documentary, Bound by Blood, and inspired the loosely based cineplex adaptation, Vogue Empire.
Before Dahlia can even react, the news circles back to the present and targets her mother.
"Celeste Masterton, mother of the Jedi Melanie Masterton, was long rumored to be dead along with her husband, Doctor Henrick Masterton whose remains were discovered in the smoldering ruins of the Greyson Estate on Naboo shortly before the Centerpoint battle. The parents of the The Four had all perished in the ensuing years - Alexander Winton and Queen Monica Greyson died in a speeder crash on Bakura. Major Kyri Patten was another victim of Phage. Lilandra Patten died under suspicious circumstances in the psychiatric ward of Coronet General Hospital. Celeste's emergence in the Corporate Sector, now married to Rutherford Gellar, has ignited a firestorm of controversy and questions. Together they have three children, seen here shopping in the Republic capital of Chandaar."
The scene in front of the Nalaa Grey boutique is ominously frozen, darkening slightly before a bright circular pattern appears around Dane and Gemma's faces.
"The youngest children, twins Dane Gellar and Gemma Masterton, are striking replica's of their parents."
The bright circle now appears around Dahlia.
"But their eldest daughter is another story entirely. Similarities and speculations have been running rampant across the HoloNet. So just who is Dahlia Greyson and what does this mean for the Gellar-Masterton family as well as the future of Corporate Sector relations?"
Dahlia takes a step back and screams.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
Her screams bring Dane and Gemma running into the living room. She is quick to retrieve the remote and flip off the Holo as they enter the room.
"What is it? What's wrong?!"
"Nothing..."
Gemma glances at the projector then at Dahlia, "Were you watching the Holo?"
"Maybe."
"Ooo, you are going to be in trouble."
Dahlia sighs, "Only if you tell."
Dane crosses his arms, "We won't tell mom if you tell us what you were watching."
"Oh, so you are clever now? That's nice. This isn't a negotiation."
"Then I guess you won't mind being grounded."
"It was nothing, Dane. Just the news."
"About dad?"
Gemma hovers near her brother, looking worried.
Dahlia shrugs, trying to downplay the questions compounding in her mind.
"You know how the media can be-"
"Dahl!"
She shifts into the most even tone she can manage because, despite her own surprise and horror, she does not want to scare them.
"Alright listen, you were right. Valerie Gellar is dad's granddaughter which technically makes her our niece. You both know he had a daughter before he had us."
Gemma nods, "Blair. She was very pretty."
"That's right. Blair was Valerie's mother and, well, our half-sister."
They both begin to look confused. She doesn't grasp it all that well either but attempts to explain in a way they would understand. The significant age difference between them and the prior generation of Gellar's is a bit much to swallow.
"Didn't Blair...die?" Gemma asks in a soft whisper.
Dahlia nods, "As did Valerie. Sad, yes but true. The Republic media is making a big deal about it now."
Dane crosses his arms, "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why are they making a big deal about it?"
This would prove more challenging to break down, especially since she doesn't know the whole story. She does not have a response that would properly answer the question and this information throws her own suspicions about herself into a new light. The reporter's question repeats itself in her head.
Just who is Dahlia Greyson?
Good question.
She grabs her purse and glances at herself in the mirror as she heads for the door.
"That's exactly what I'm going to ask dad."
-TBC
-
Dathomir
In the darkness of the caves, Elder A'kram kneels beside Elder Bashir. The excitement seems to strum the air, casting waves of emotion outward. Their oracles have been many and the blood rituals performed shed new light on their quest. For several minutes, they meditate in silence before Bashir speaks.
"The legacy has been revealed."
"We have long waited for this day. Many have doubted our wisdom and perished for their lack of faith."
Elder A'kram nods from beneath his robe.
"It seems our patience has served us well. Tell me."
"Three are known to us. The grandfather of Gellar and mother of Masterton have formed a union which produced twins, a male and a female."
"And the third?"
Elder Bashir's scarred lips form a sinister smile.
"She does not belong to them."
"Raised by another."
"She is the key."
"Another daughter of Winton?"
"The sister of our beloved abominations."
"You know this for certain?"
"To look upon her is to understand her place in our vision."
"What of the forth?"
"Unclear," Elder Bashir says. "But where there are three, the forth will be close behind."
Elder A'kram cackles.
"Their fates are intertwined."
"We wait for your instruction."
A'kram removes his hood, exposing the hideous flesh beneath.
"Kill the ties that remain. Find the forth and bring them all before me. Only the hearts of the legacy will grant us life eternal as it has been foreseen."
Elder Bashir bows.
"As you wish."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
Dahlia storms out into the corridor but does not get very far. Unlike the Imperial Agents assigned to guard The Four, the Sector Espos have no intention of letting her give them the slip. She argues with them, demanding they allow her to leave. This is met with stone cold refusal.
Garron Prescott is drawn out of his suite by the commotion and defuses the situation and invites Dahlia to talk. She reluctantly agrees, glaring as she enters the valet's suite.
"What seems to be the problem, lady Dahlia?"
She huffs and puffs, stalking around the room.
"I need to talk to my father."
"Regarding anything specific?"
Dahlia considers phrasing, "The news."
"I guess you saw that."
"Against advisement otherwise? Yes. So he gave up his granddaughter. It has nothing to do with the Federation requesting Republic trade permits."
Garron shrugs, "Everything is fair game in politics. You will learn that in time. Was there anything else?"
She hesitates, biting her lower lip.
"I...saw something. Someone, actually. Valerie Gellar wasn't the only story they are running."
His expression changes but not enough to register to her.
"I don't doubt it. The galaxy is ripe with activity. It's an exciting time."
"Do you know who Karen Winton is?"
"I know of her."
"Like what?"
"Only what I've heard on the Holo."
"Oh knock it off, Garron. I'm not a child."
"You are thirteen, lady Dahlia. I've known you your whole life and will not be condescended to or disrespected."
She frowns, guilty.
"You're right. I'm sorry. It's just....that story, the Winton girl and her family. Name's, faces..."
Garron arches a brow, "What about them?"
There is a clarity that comes from the things she has seen, pieces of a puzzle she has wondered about but never pursued. She always knew she was different than the others. She just didn't know in what ways.
"I don't belong to them, do I?"
It's a loaded question, one that hangs in the air as if attached to a cartoon bubble near her pink polished mouth. The things a valet is privy to cannot be discussed, certainly not to those whose lives it could alter forever.
Garron turns to her and speaks evenly.
"You, Gemma and Dane make Lord Gellar happier than I have seen him in a long while. Lady Masterton adores you with all her heart. If they care, protect and love you, does it really make a difference?"
Dahlia hugs herself as she backs toward the door.
"It might."
She turns and leaves, returning quietly to the Gellar suite. Garron stands there for a long while, contemplating what he knows. The story his sister released a decade ago shed light on questions the galaxy had been asking themselves for years. It gave depth to four girls who held the attention of millions with merely the surface. He knows Dahlia is really a Winton, the last of an infamous dynasty. The secret combined with the Force vaccine kept her and Celeste safe for years as the worlds moved on from the Centerpoint battle. Now, in the face of the anniversary and his master's admission, the past becomes a present moment once again. They say time heals all wounds unless, of course, that time was only borrowed.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Rutherford agrees to keep in touch with Mara and thanks her for her assistance. He leaves the Hotel Mermeia feeling drained but hopeful. She does not trust him and probably never will. He represents something to her that he will not be able to change. His sins are too numerous for her forgiveness. At least she has agreed to help albeit by equally devious means.
On the walk back over to the Ovallus, he places a call to D'Ken Dawning to update him on the turn of events. Dawning is furious to say the least.
"Align with them? Are you insane?"
"Think collective bargaining, Dawning. Surely your narrow mind can grasp the concept. The Federation will not back down and have every intention of exploiting our every flaw."
D'Ken scoffs, "You mean your every flaw."
"I did what I had to do," Rutherford hisses. "Not that it should come as a surprise to you."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You were instrumental to my being here, Dawning. I wouldn't put it past you to tip the Federation off and set me up to fail."
"That's a serious allegation, Gellar."
"Exactly the way it was intended. Now, sell the collaboration between Sector and Federation to the Direx Board. It will provide rather lucrative opportunities, solidify our creed of free enterprise, and provide an image rehabilitation that will bring the Sector into the modern era."
"And if I don't?"
Rutherford smiles, "I'll find the evidence I need to crucify you before the Board."
He clicks off when he spots the reporters lingering near the hotel entrance. He disappears into a crowd of wealthy tourists and follows them inside. The lobby is cool and inviting. He crosses the lobby when he hears his name being called.
"Rutherford!"
He turns as Celeste rushes forward.
"Hello, love."
She embraces him tightly, "I was so worried. You look exhausted."
"That's the understatement of the day."
Counselor Circe Prescott emerges beside them, smiling politely.
"Good day, Counselor."
She nods, "Lord Gellar."
Celeste laughs, "We just had brunch and were on the way back up to the room. Garron and Circe have some catching up to do and we need to talk."
"That we do, my darling."
The trio enters the lift and steps out on their floor. Circe pauses beside Garron's door, waving.
"It was so nice to meet you."
Celeste beams, "You as well. Don't be a stranger."
"I won't."
Celeste and Rutherford enter the Gellar suite to find the children united in the living room. Dane and Gemma bound over when he enters. He kneels down and embraces them, happy to be with them again. The thought of publicly compromising them threatens to overwhelm him and he makes a command decision to take Mara up on her offer to adjust the media's attention elsewhere.
Dahlia lingers behind them, seemingly hesitant.
"What's wrong, Dahlia?" Celeste asks, looking concerned.
"Nothing."
The reply is full of speculation and mistrust. Rutherford watches her carefully, wondering what is going through her mind. She's so difficult to read these days. Often outraged then sullen. The emotional tidal waves of a teenager.
"I am sorry we could not be together yesterday."
"That's okay, daddy!" Gemma squeals.
"Yeah," Dane says. "We're just glad you're back now."
"Me too, kiddos."
He stands and raises his eyes to Dahlia, searching for something in her beautifully blank face.
Despite her confusion, he is the only father she knows. She opts not to attack them with accusations but instead investigate on her own. There was plenty of source material she could reference. No sense in going on the offensive without some solid evidence to back it up.
She flashes a smile and throws her arms around his neck, whispering in his ear.
"Welcome back, dad."
*
Down the corridor, Circe finds her older brother holding a nearly empty glass in the dim suite. Although they speak often, their very different professions keep them at a distance most of the time. By the look on his face, she senses he is troubled.
"Credit for your thoughts?"
He smirks, polishing off what is left in the glass before setting it a little too roughly on the table. His sharp eyes find hers before speaking.
"She knows."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Hotel Ovallus
Counselor Circe Prescott aims at levity with her brother's statement.
"Is that so?"
Garron Prescott nods.
"And how does she know?"
"You've seen the headlines."
"Speculation mostly," Circe says. "But nothing that directly links Dahlia to the Winton's. She may bear a striking resemblance but given the sheer amount of people in this galaxy, there is always someone who looks like someone else."
"That's your professional opinion?"
"That's the truth, Garron. I take it she has become suspicious?"
"To say the least."
"Unfortunate but not entirely surprising, given Lord Gellar's rather selfish statements before the Senate."
"You think it was selfish?"
"To bring that kind of attention on Celeste and the children? Very much so. Regardless if he was threatened by the Federation, he should ? have chosen tact over admission. It may have all come out anyway but at least not directly from his own mouth. He's countering, nothing more. Calling a non-existent bluff. The Federation would have exposed him either way but it's nice to see he's grown a conscience after all these years."
"You've always judged him harshly."
"Judge is a strong word," Circe says. "I've questioned his motives in the past, especially since those motives cost him his first wife and daughter. Celeste doesn't deserve that."
Garron smiles, "You've bonded with Lady Masterton?"
"She's very sweet and in dire need of a friend who isn't part of the Sector. From what I gather, she does not have many personal connections there. Most of her interactions are with clients or other parents. She needs a support network outside of her family."
"She is sweet and one of the most loving wives and mother's I've known. She is determined to be the mother to Dane, Gemma and Dahlia that she couldn't be for Melanie."
Circe nods, "I sense immense guilt in her."
"You explained your connection to Jedi Masterton?"
"I did and I'm glad to say you were wrong about approaching her. She was uncomfortable at first but grateful for the information. Celeste told me that after Winton moved the parents away from the Core, they did not have much contact with Melanie. In fact, it was practically forbidden. Winton told them it would interfere with the prophecy and risk their lives."
Garron shakes his head, "That man was pure evil."
"Evil and very clever, using manipulation to alienate the parents from their children and make them believe they no longer cared. The poor girls had no choice but to push on in survival mode."
He laughs, "With tons of money and fame to keep them company."
"Merely distractions to divert their attention away from reality."
"And what about Dahlia? Doesn't she have a right to know where she came from?"
Circe falls into the chair across from him.
"Perhaps but it is not our place to tell her. I hope you redirected her to Rutherford and Celeste."
"I implied it shouldn't matter if they care for her the way they do."
"So you didn't deny it then?"
"Not explicitly but I did not confirm it either."
"Oh, Garron," Circe groans. "She's so young and probably so full of questions. Why didn't you just tell her talk to her parents?"
"That would imply I knew something. I posed a hypothetical, open-ended question."
"To which she responded?"
"That it might matter to her if she did not belong to them."
Circe sighs, "That could prove problematic."
"No doubt."
"Then let us hope she does the right thing."
"And what? Confront her parents? Lord Gellar and Lady Masterton have worked endlessly to keep her safe from the past."
"The more one attempts to contain the past, the more damage it does. Waiting until she is of a certain age to open up about where she came from is the wisest choice but there ? is a point of no return that is rapidly approaching. If she already suspects then being honest with her might be the only thing that saves her."
"From what?"
Circe's face grows terribly serious.
"How much do you know about Alexia and Karen Winton?"
He shrugs, "That which I have read and what you have told me. You never met them, did you?"
"Certainly not," Circe says. "Most of what I know I learned from Melanie. Alexia Winton was the only confirmed case of Force possession. The midi-chlorian levels in her body were so high that at times she would be completely consumed by the Force itself with catastrophic consequences. She was highly unstable and a danger to all that surrounded her. Karen, on the other hand, held the same potential but only came to realize it after an incident on Contruum. Melanie told me the Jedi felt a disturbance so powerful it temporarily blinded her Master. Their investigation led them to Contruum where Karen was currently embedded with the Imperial diplomatic corp. It did not take them long to make the connection. Karen's power was honed by her relationship with the Emperor Dementat and she became a powerful Sith. This rare and extremely intense connection to the Force is something that runs in their family."
Garron's mouth parts in realization, "Which could have passed on to Dahlia."
"The children of Winton are far from helpless despite the posh exterior."
"Dahlia has telekinetic abilities," Garron says. "That much I know for certain."
"And her midi-chlorian level?"
"Lord Gellar has never shared that information."
"Perhaps it is something you should find out."
"Why?"
Circe arches a brow, "Other than your own safety and that of the family?"
He nods.
"During the reign of Palpatine, few with such abilities were allowed to live. While Alexia was used as an Imperial weapon, Karen and Melanie were seemingly left untouched. They were told by their handler's who knew that these abilities would make them targets of those looking to exploit the power for their own purposes. The Winton sisters were viewed as both assets and threats, depending on which side you asked. If Dahlia shares even a fraction of their connection to the Force, it could make a strong case for those who do not wish the past to repeat itself."
Circe's voice drops to almost a whisper.
"Dahlia's heritage could make her both a liability or leverage."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
After Rutherford sleeps, he rises late in the afternoon to shower and change before dinner. As he slips into a grey blazer, Celeste lingers behind him in a glittery white dress. He glances up and smiles at her in the mirror. She smiles back.
"I thought you would be more upset."
Celeste slides her arms around his waist, "Not when you look so handsome."
He turns, bringing up one hand to run it across her smooth cheek.
"I expected more of a fight."
Her features soften as she stares into his dark eyes.
"There is a part of me that is so proud of you for what you did yesterday. In the past, when we bore our souls to each other, you only spoke of how everything happened in a factual way. As if it was something that had happened to someone else. I knew you were hurting but that kind of deflection is common when neither of us could grasp the scope of what we had been involved in. We tried to rationalize our despair in our own ways to make sense of it despite the guilt I know we both felt."
Celeste takes his hand in her own.
"But yesterday, you spoke with conviction to claim control of your past. You owned up to your part in Valerie's fate at the whims of Alexander Winton. I know that must have been extremely difficult for you to admit especially in front of such a large audience."
He nods, voice low and even.
"It was."
Her tone grows slightly sharper.
"The other part of me is furious with you for broadcasting these feelings to the entire Republic. From the news reports, I'm well aware that the Federation ambassador threatened to use this information against you and that you must have felt it necessary to beat her to the punch. It's a bold move, no doubt, but perhaps a costly one. Rutherford, we were ambushed by the media while out in the city. People shouting questions at me that I could simply not answer. It brought me back to a time I wish to forget when the media made us, the parents, out to be the villains while attempting to exploit four girls in order to sell an image of excessive moral bankruptcy. And if it was just me they were after, I could handle it but now they cast doubt upon our children. They want to know about Dahlia, Rutherford. Do you understand how dangerously close to exposing her they really are?"
"I do...."
"Then why? Why would you risk it after all we've been through? You were so adamant about continuing the vaccine to keep us shielded from the unseen enemy only to practically volunteer the information before the entire Senate. Do you now believe the coast is so clear that we can reveal ourselves to the known galaxy?"
"No, Celeste. It will never entirely clear."
"Then tell me why. Was it your own guilt or a shrewd business tactic to gain sympathy with the Republic?"
"The former," he says. "When Mara Tacofer blindsided me, I had to think quickly. I felt that if I released the information, it would be in my control. It was my mistake to confess, not hers. I would not be blackmailed into submission by something I wish I could take back or crucified for a past I cannot change."
In a sense, he believed it would humanize him before the Republic in stark contrast to the previously droid-centric Federation devoid of such emotions.
Celeste clings to him tightly.
"In your control? How is it in your control with the HoloNet full of wild speculation? Did you not consider what that might do? Those statements coupled with the Centerpoint anniversary thrust our sordid lives right back into a spotlight I have tried very hard to avoid out of shame for my blind belief in that prophecy. I allowed myself to be manipulated away from my daughter, destroying our bond and any shred of a relationship we once had. I've spent years working through my self-loathing only to have it thrown back in my face all over again."
"I didn't think..."
"That's right," she says, now openly hostile and desperately trying not to be. "You didn't think. About what this would to do me or to our children. Or better yet, what about you? I know a closer look into your own past isn't something you would actively encourage. Nor are the mistakes you made something you need to be reminded of. We both have sins we cannot escape, regret and shame we will never be able to move out from under."
Her blue eyes shimmer with tears.
"All we have is the life we have made together. It's a great life, Rutherford. One we can both we proud of."
"I am, my love and I am sorry if I hurt you."
"I wish there was a way out of this..."
Rutherford holds her close as she weeps, conflicted between his personal feelings and professional obligations. His motives have a double-edge. On one hand, he could no longer live with the guilt and Mara's wealth of personal and damning information only reinforced those feelings. On the other, his objective was to malign the Federation so that the Republic would never even consider approving those permits. Valerie's legacy as a hero made a powerful point in connecting Winton to Phage by painting Rutherford as another victim of the Federation's treachery. But there were factors he never considered before he reacted - Mara's ties to Valerie and belief that he had aided Winton in the creation of Phage using the Gellar enzyme or that Celeste and their children would be targeted in ensuing media frenzy.
"There is."
She inhales, pulling back.
"How?"
"I've made a deal with the Federation. One that will benefit the Sector and divert the media's attention away from our family."
"You...what?"
"It's not quite as devious as it sounds."
She laughs in spite of herself, "I'm sure that's not entirely true."
"Perhaps not but in desperate times. I asked to meet with Mara in private to find out more about what she knows. Apparently, Valerie was someone very close to her and she mentioned a friendship with none other than Karen Winton which begs the question..."
"Did she know Melanie or Kimber?"
Rutherford shrugs, "She didn't say. She did, however, reveal the rationale behind her personal attack against me. Mara believes I purposefully allowed Winton to abscond with Valerie so that he could sabotage the Federation project and use her genetic material to create Phage."
Celeste blinks, horrified.
"Create Phage? How can that even be possible?"
"She showed me Valerie's DNA sequence and explained that she possessed a specific enzyme crucial in the biological part of Phage's creation process. No other enzyme has been seen before which is why Winton wanted her in the first place."
"Oh, Rutherford, that means her own murderer was...a part of her?"
"In some sick way, yes and I can understand now why Mara would and probably always will blame me for it. After I explained that I had no knowledge in this project, we came to the conclusion that both the Federation and I were part of Winton's master manipulation. The past mistakes of our separate factions were something we could endlessly debate without resolution and we both needed one. Therefore, we decided to work together in the best interest of free enterprise and the Republic client."
She wipes the corners of her eyes.
"That's awfully noble for the Corporate Sector. I can't imagine the Direx Board is thrilled."
"Probably not but they will have to accept it in order for us to remain a prominent trade partner with the Republic. We have our other clients as well but with the surge of Republic territories, this is too large a deal not to close by any means necessary. The Federation and the Sector are willing to put their past differences aside for a potentially lucrative partnership."
Celeste crosses her arms.
"How do you plan to pull this off?"
Rutherford smiles slyly before leaning in to kiss her.
"Leave that to me."
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
In the silence after midnight, Dahlia slips from her room and pads out into the living room. With her family soundly asleep, she would do a little digging. She flips on the consol and connects to the Republic network.
Search criteria: Karen Winton.
It takes several minutes to sort through the results. Dahlia decides to start with an unofficial biography which gives an overview of her upbringing. Karen Winton was born on Naboo but raised almost exclusively on Coruscant in a life of wealth and privilege. She has one sister, Alexia, who's own biography reads like an obituary. Karen's admittance into North Coruscant High, the famed prep school which produced some of the finest Moff's and Admiral's, led to her discovery by the Imperial fashion label, Raga'Ana. She, along with her three friends, became the faces of the brand and appeared in a variety of media over the course of four years. Karen seemed to have everything; looks, smarts, wealth, fame, and a cadre of impossibly attractive friends. The story takes a slightly darker turn in her senior year but is missing critical information exploring the specifics. Dahlia scans the list of articles and finds the publication written by Kent Carlson. This version seems to have considerably more detail, including Alexia Winton's instability and eventual rampage that took the lives of all but The Four. The murders are covered in graphic detail but one stands out as the most heartbreaking. Karen's boyfriend of almost four years, Skyler McNeal, was thrown from the top of 500 Republica right in front of her.
Dahlia shutters, trying to imagine that kind of cruelty from a sibling.
She reads on, the entire sordid tale from socialite to Sith to fiancé to the Imperial Emperor. The one thing that strikes her as odd is the serious lack of parental involvement. It's as if they don't even exist. In fact, they are hardly mentioned at all. Dahlia can't comprehend a world where her parents weren't around. Her family is so solid, so supportive but that's not something she would ever admit to them. That would shift the balance of power. She scrolls back through and finds what she is really looking for.
Search criteria: Alexander Winton/ Monica Greyson
Winton was born with a silver spoon in his perfect pout, the heir to a RepulsorCorp fortune on Bakura. Clever and ruthless, he topped his classes at university with an almost contemptuous ease. He served as Executive Vice President until his supposed death in a speeder crash with his wife. There are conflicting reports about that considering he was also supposedly executed by the Hapan Consortium many years later then linked to the Corellian Confederation shortly before the Centerpoint battle. For a dead guy, Winton was awfully busy.
The Queen was elected to the throne at twelve and served two terms until she became an activist for Naboo's wetlands or something equally cheesy and philanthropic. She met Winton while he was on a business trip and their romance was well documented in the trades.
Dahlia finds herself staring at their pictures. The Queen was a smoldering beauty, dark hair and an exotic complexion. It's Winton's image that sends chills down her spine. He is thin and angular with the same crimson hair, green eyes and the high cheek bones that made Dahlia so distinctive back in the Corporate Sector. She shares the features of one and the last name of the other.
Coincidence?
Dahlia thinks not.
She may be young but she is hardly stupid.
As she flips off the consol and sneaks back into her room, she is convinced Rutherford and Celeste are hiding something. There is a connection between her and the Winton girl that cannot be denied. The real question is if she can approach her parents about it without starting a war. Questions burn inside her, fueled by the face of Alexander Winton. He was an evil man from what she can tell, someone who manipulated a lot of people including Rutherford Gellar and Celeste Masterton. If they shared a connection, would the lies then be justified? People have done worse to protect those they love. Garron Prescott's question now seems all the more relevant.
Should it matter?
It shouldn't but it does. There is a compulsion, no, a fundamental need to know more. With their spring break rapidly running out, they would soon be returning to the sector. She could not conduct her research on the consol's within the Gellar Estate. Those are almost always monitored. There is only one person whom she can trust with completely unsupervised access.
Dahlia smiles to herself as she falls back into bed.
She would recruit Muriel.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Rutherford Gellar adjusts his tie as he walks out into the living room. Gemma, Dane and Dahlia are having breakfast around the table in the kitchen. Celeste pours a cup of coffee and hands it to him. Their fight had been the most explosive in their marriage but a necessary part of any functioning relationship. No two people should agree on everything. He never wanted to hurt her but in the aftermath he sees that his actions have done just that. Celeste has always been far more altruistic than he and the often times harsh tactics in his corporate life perplex and fluster her. He cannot blame her for the way she feels but he cannot escape the methodology of his business. There are certain things he must do in order to keep ChemiX competitive and the Corporate Sector the most viable trade option for the many factions spread across the galaxy. This includes aligning himself with the Federation to undermine those that would oppose them.
Celeste would surely not approve but she would tolerate it if it meant shifting the spotlight away from their family. At times, the ends do justify the means. He pulls out his com, intending to leave a message for Mara to go over the specifics of their plan when Dane protests.
"You have to go again? I thought you were going to stay with us today."
Gemma frowns, "Yeah, daddy. Can't we go with you?"
"I'm not sure if that's possible."
Celeste nods, "I would have to agree. This is a delicate situation."
Dahlia glances up from her data pad, "You did promise."
He smiles, touched that they would want to spend time with him. He must cherish these moments until he loses them to the inevitable apathy of adolescence. Rutherford consider it.
"Perhaps there is something we can do. The Federation Ambassador is traveling with her nephew who has just celebrated a birthday. With his aunt working so much, I'm sure spending time with someone closer to his age might be a nice change."
Celeste brightens, "It would certainly give me a chance to meet this Ambassador I've been hearing so much about."
Rutherford cannot be certain this statement is entirely without sarcasm but it could satisfy all parties if handled appropriately.
"There is no harm in asking."
He connects to Mara's voicemail and proposes the idea. The children could entertain themselves while they hammer out the details before presenting it to the Senate. The worlds would be watching to see how both factions played the situation. Everyone is surely expecting a brutal fight they could dissect in the media. The unexpected turn of events would give them both some positive press.
Celeste is less than thrilled with the idea of exposing their children to the Federation but in this there is a silver lining. This woman, Mara Tacofer, who seems to know so much about them, is a great curiosity to her. She told Rutherford she was a close friend to both Valerie Gellar and Karen Winton. How they are connected is still somewhat of a mystery and why shouldn't it be? Women know better than to reveal their full hand to anyone. This would give her the opportunity to find out if she knew Melanie as well and how a Federation Ambassador has come to know the intimate details of their lives.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
Direx Prex D'Ken Dawning gives a rather scathing account of the happenings on the Republic capital of Chandaar. He highlights the recent shift in the media away from Rutherford Gellar's remarks before the Senate but cannot completely downplay the fact that the Sector itself was going to have to deal with the Trade Federation.
This does not sit well with two very key people in the room.
The first is the Executive officer, Iver Aguilar, a cold and unforgiving man.
The second is the newly appointed Imperial Remnant advisor, Vex Sienna. Sienna is still getting a feel for the climate, given the role assigned to him after serving in the Imperial navy for nearly eleven years after his graduation from the Carida Academy. He was excited for the new challenge given Emperor Schrag's temperament and fondness for executing commanding officers for the most trivial offenses. His loyalty to the Empire has never wavered but with the losses they suffered at Centerpoint and the struggle to reclaim territory in the aftermath, Sienna felt it would be counterproductive to sacrifice potential leaders on the whims of misplaced rage. So he accepted the position to keep tabs on their interests in the Corporate Sector, ensuring they would arm and supply their forces as the Emperor conspired to reclaim the galaxy at large. He expected to be surprised but not nearly as surprised as hearing names he was once familiar with. The reports streaming out of the Republic capital bleed into the Centerpoint anniversary and those who lost their lives in it. After all, Sienna was on Emperor Dementat's command ship when Karen Winton stormed out and headed for the station only for Dementat to follow suit.
Neither returned.
Iver Aguilar's gravelly voice snaps him back into the moment.
"Just what are you saying, Dawning? That Gellar has aligned the Corporate Sector with the Federation?"
D'Ken nods, "I am told the discussions are ongoing."
"This is an outrage!" Aguilar snarls. "You assured me Gellar's prior...involvement with the Federation would sway the Republic Senate in our favor. Now it seems he has not only made a fool of himself but willingly aided in the Federation's resurgence into the markets. Our markets."
D'Ken's plotting against Rutherford has backfired in his face as he is now seen as the responsible party for this failure to secure sole Republic contracts. Others had been suggested for the mission but D'Ken insisted Rutherford was best suited. While he wanted desperately for him to fail, he did not expect the Sector's reputation to be called into question as well.
"The mistake was mine," D'Ken says evenly. "But we have not lost our contracts just yet. The Republic believes in the strength of diversity even when it comes to its suppliers. Gellar did paint them as the traitorous villains but the Federation Ambassador was armed with the Sector's own checked past along with sensitive information about Gellar which they then attempted to blackmail him with. Gellar denounced this tactic publicly and in doing so brought unnecessary media attention."
"That he did."
"There is still a chance Gellar can salvage this."
Aguilar narrows his steely gaze, "For your sake, you had better pray he does."
- TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
After the meeting breaks, Vex Sienna takes a stroll around the city. He ponders his life in the ten years since Centerpoint, the triumphs and the promotions contrasted with the Imperial unrest as the Republic once again took center stage. They had stayed so far out of the Imperial-Confederation conflict to ensure they remain intact after the dust settled. A wise move, Vex thinks, but a bit calculated for the idealistic Republic.
The Empire had purchased him a spacious loft in the center of Mondder along with a hefty salary to ensure their interests are maintained in the sector. Emperor Schrag had been very clear in his intentions - secure weapons and technology contracts from the Corporate Sector that would allow them to stockpile and rebuild before wiping out the Republic once and for all. Their borders have grown dangerously close to their own and so many worlds were requesting admittance that the Republic could barely keep up. They needed to weaken their hold from within to destabilize the galaxy and allow for an Imperial conquest.
Such a move would take time which is why he was selected for the position on the Direx Board. At thirty-three, he was handsome, clever and charming. These qualities would work in his favor as he negotiated the contracts while simultaneously investigating those handling the Republic accounts. With enough information, he could feed it back to the Empire who would, in turn, use it in their advantage.
Back at the loft, he tosses his jacket across the back of the couch and opens one of the massive sliding glass doors. He stares out into the bustling cityscape, the uniquely designed buildings and neatly flowing lines of traffic weaving between them. It reminds him a bit home and only now does he realize how thankful he is to be away from Byss. The Imperial capital was never as comforting as Coruscant had been. He exhales and steps out onto the durasteel patio, eyes wandering to the ominous and angular Gellar Tower.
Vex has never met Rutherford Gellar but he knows him by reputation. As it turns out, their connection goes deep into the past to a school that was obliterated when Coruscant was destroyed by agents of the former Dark Queen of Hapes. According to the reports, Rutherford's daughter, Blair, had a rather sordid affair with CorSec Major Kyri Patten which produced an illegitimate granddaughter who just happened to become a famed Corellian hero. In truth, he was never close to Valerie Gellar. He had been a grade above her at North Coruscant and, in all honesty, she scared the shit out of him most of the time. Valerie was, by far, the most menacing of their little group who used her sexual energy to threaten and terrorize anyone who stood in her way. Although they ran in similar circles, Vex took considerable care to avoid her. Their social truce with his then-girlfriend, Tenley Price and her group of friends, kept Vex pretty much off-limits. He had always wondered what made Valerie so venomous and now he knows why. Her real family had given her up to a sociopath so that she could be raised beside her half-sister. Valerie spent her whole life never knowing who she actually was - a Corporate Sector heiress. Perhaps fate would have taken a different course had she remained in the Sector.
Guess no one would ever know.
The upside to this connection is that Vex would embellish his past with Rutherford's granddaughter and play upon his ignorance of her life in order to obtain certain information.
He turns and reenters the loft, unbuttoning his shirt as he walks into his sparsely furnished bedroom. He doesn't need much in the way of possessions, just the basics really. The only personal item that he has carried with him for years is the lone picture sitting on top of a black dresser. In it, he has his arm around a smiling Karen Winton as they posed on the sands of Imperial Beach on Hesperidium. Vex lifts the picture from the dresser and runs a finger over her perfect face.
Almost thirteen years ago, Karen and her three friends fled to the resort moon after Alexia Winton murdered their entire group of friends including Karen's long time boyfriend right before graduation. He had just returned on a summer break from the Carida Academy. With his own girlfriend missing and presumed dead, Vex had been feeling rather lonely. Karen was heartbroken and in serious need of a distraction that he was more than happy to briefly provide. And while his feelings for her surprisingly deepened, she remained detached and aloof, qualities that made her extremely attractive to him. She ended their affair shortly before he returned to the academy and the last kiss they shared is one he has never been able to forget. When she joined the Imperial diplomatic Corp, he was impressed and anticipated that she would eventually be assigned to a vessel he would possibly command. But her fate took a drastically different turn when the young Emperor Dementat broke from his tactical brilliance to court her. Out of all the women in all the Empire, Karen Winton was who the Emperor desired more than any other. Their romance and her training to become a Sith was widely covered in the press. His proposal wounded Vex deeply but he remained steady and pushed on. When she asked him for help securing an unmarked shuttle, he was intrigued but, as usual, she refused to provide any details. The last time he ever saw her was aboard Dementat's command ship, looking more dangerous and beautiful than ever before. She had been so close, throwing him a fleeting glance before rushing into the fray. Despite his longing, it had not been his place to try and stop her and because of this hesitation and adherence to protocol, he never saw her again.
Over the years, he's had his share of shallow encounters with gorgeous women from many systems but none ignited the spark Karen had. In another life, perhaps they could have been together and she may still be alive. It is a reality that has crossed his mind from time to time, resurfacing now that he would be dealing with both Gellar and Masterton.
They say time changes things when really, it's all the same just on a different stage.
Vex sets the picture back down and moves to his consol, accessing the net. Most of what he wants to know is now public knowledge, tied back to the spectacular legacy of The Four. His interest is a bit more specific. He would be allowed to interact with Gellar on a professional level but the key was to infiltrate his personal life. In order to do that, he must find an opening. There is no way someone as reputable as Celeste Masterton would ever allow him near her or her children. He would have to work around her. Pulling up the listings on the D'ian System, he scrolls through until he finds the Gellar Estate. It is staffed mostly with service droids with the exception of two humans. Lord Gellar's valet, Garron Prescott who looks like a pretentious jackass. The other is his gorgeous ticket in.
Lady Masterton's aide, Kylie Miranda.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
Vex Sienna struts into the center of town in the early afternoon. It's a quaint little place, all the modern facilities with a throwback style. There are no towers or large cities and everything is plotted at a suspiciously comfortable distance from each other with carefully manicured foliage intermixed with the light forests and sprawling meadows. The whole thing looks like some sort of fictional painting that stands in stark contrast to the densely populated capital city a few systems away.
He wears a pair of dark slacks, fitted gray bomber jacket and silver rimmed sunglasses and was only cleared to land under the auspices of a potential real estate transaction. Calls had been made, asking around about the current listings. Surprisingly, there are not many. Most of the estates are passed down through the generations and seldom on the market. He's been here for two days, trying to lay low and scope the scene but an outlander is big news in a place like this. Those that pass him on the streets either stare shamelessly or ignore him entirely then whisper about him later. Vex heard from a bar maid that some borium tycoon thinks he is nothing but a nuevo riche prick who doesn't belong here. He would have fed into their little gossip mongering if he didn't already know for a fact this uptight suburban oasis is really just a place to stash your wife and kids while you conducted both business and sexual affairs on Etti IV. So he smiled and complimented the bar maid on her career choice.
The au pair visits the same general store every afternoon and Vex has planted himself there when she breezes through the door, waving good-naturedly to the shopkeeper. Kylie Miranda is petite and charming but he is more blown away by how insanely attractive she is in person. Far too attractive for the dowdy clothing she has on. She looks like a goddess playing a schoolmarm. Blondish, five-four, button nose, and a smile that can seem almost naughty. She turns, catching him staring when he jerks and knocks several items off the shelf he was leaning into. She laughs and kneels down to help.
"The first time is always the hardest."
He is thrown by the possible subtext.
"I'm sorry?"
"Shopping for yourself," she says. "It gets easier the more you practice."
"What makes your think I've never done this before?"
They rise simultaneously, a stare down. She thinks she may have offended him and pardons herself.
"You don't strike me as the type to gather your own supplies."
Vex grins, "I'm a little offended."
"Oh, you are not," she says, moving around him. "Coy doesn't really work for you."
He follows as she gathers items into a basket.
"What makes you say that?"
"Outlanders are rarely offended by anything."
"Heard of me, have you?"
"If you haven't noticed, it's a rather small community. People tend to marvel at all things shiny and new."
"I take it you disapprove?"
She shrugs, "Gossip doesn't do anyone any favors."
"I'm the new rumor? Sweet."
A small laugh escapes her as she approaches the counter, paying for the groceries with a red CSA credit card. That type of card is usually reserved for those with phenomenal wealth. The Gellar-Masterton's must have given her quite the expense account. She thanks the shopkeeper and heads for the door. He trails behind.
"Where are you headed?"
"Back home."
"May I walk you?"
Kylie pauses, turning to stare up at him.
"You want...to walk me home?"
"What?" he says. "No one has manners around here?"
Actually, he was wondering why she had not sent one of the droids or, at the very least, traveled by speeder.
"Not virtual strangers."
"I'm Vex."
"Kylie. That's actually your name?"
"Hey," he says, faux-hurt. "That's not very neighborly."
She continues walking, "That's because we're not neighbors."
"We could be."
"Not likely, considering the Corinthos estate isn't for sale."
"How do you know I'm interested in buying?"
"Like I said, small community. Any luck on the listings?"
The street curves away from the town and past an expansive meadow.
"I have a showing tomorrow."
"Where?"
"The old Thibodaux place, I believe."
"Fancy," she says. "Just be careful. Some of the estate agents can be ruthless when it comes to closing a deal."
"Thanks for the tip."
He stops short. She takes several more steps before she does the same.
"What is it?"
"I thought I wasn't walking you home."
Kylie tilts her head to the side as if considering something.
"Show me your eyes."
Vex removes his sunglasses.
She smiles and hands him the bag of groceries.
"Can I trust you are a gentleman, Vex?"
He hefts the bag and falls into step beside her.
"Always."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
The Gellar estate is impressive to say the least. Stately, ornate and beautifully kept up. As they approach the massive front steps, the door opens and a protocol droid appears who, after having an exchange with Kylie, takes the groceries inside. She turns back to him, folding her hands in front of her.
"Well, I certainly appreciate the company."
"Don't get many suitors, do you? I find that hard to believe."
She smiles sweetly, "You say that like you know anything about me."
"I like what I know so far."
She laughs, "For an outlander, you're a riot."
Vex looks up at the estate, nodding thoughtfully.
"Gorgeous place," he says, knowing damn well it isn't hers. "Been in your family long?"
"Oh, I don't own the estate. My employers do."
"Really? And what do you do?"
Kylie answers with pride.
"I am the exclusive aide to Lady Masterton and the au pair to her three children. Well, only two of them now. The third is a teenager."
"Impressive," Vex replies with smiles. "Have you been with them long?"
Kylie Miranda grew up dirt poor on Etti IV. Her father was an engineer in the Cybot Galactica tower and her mother a seamstresses. They barely made enough to get by and certainly not enough to carry any clout in the executive driven sector capital. Those who do not make a profit are viewed as third class citizens, doomed to a life of serving everyone who did. Being their only child, her parents wanted so much more for her. She had dreams of attending university but the scholarship she competed for was lost to someone who could buy it simply for the prestige and not out of any necessity. Kylie was devastated and she almost gave up until she answered an ad seeking a professional aide. She traveled to the D'ian system along with many other girls her age. In the interview with Celeste Masterton, they bonded. Celeste was taken with her warmth and ability to converse so easily. It became less of an interview and more of a lovely conversation. Unbeknownst to her, Celeste had felt out each candidate through the Force, looking for a purity of soul, and called her the very next day to offer her the position. It required her to move permanently to D'ian but the compensation was beyond belief. Her duties expanded into au pair for the infant Dahlia then with the birth of the twins. She has grown to become an essential part of their household and is viewed, much like Garron Prescott, as a member of the family.
Kylie smiles at the fondness of the memories.
"For a long time."
Vex nods, glancing back down the road away from the estate.
"I suppose I should get going."
She taps a button on a wristband he didn't realize she was wearing. A speeder appears around the side of the house, stopping in front of him.
"The least I can do is provide transport back into town."
"That's really not necessary."
"I insist," she says warmly.
"That's very gracious of you."
Vex pauses before stepping into the speeder, turning back to her.
"Have dinner with me tomorrow night."
Kylie blushes but cannot help but smile.
"I'm not normally in the habit of accepting offers from strangers."
"That stings," he says. "I thought we were becoming friends."
"Are we?"
Vex holds her gaze.
"You tell me. All I ask is the pleasure of your company."
She considers it for a moment. In truth, it has been far too long since a young and attractive man had called upon her. Aside from the occasional pass made by an intoxicated business associate of Lord Gellar's, Kylie Miranda has had little in the way of a social life and this charming outlander may be a nice change.
"Alright, Vex. I'd love to."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
The following evening, Vex Sienna waits at the bar of the Tables Bistro sipping on their infused house martini. The showing at the Thibodaux estate earlier in the day had been a disaster. The old coot had been dead for a week before someone found him after he had fired his entire staff and became a recluse over two years prior. The place itself was in a state of disrepair as one could imagine. While the architecture was impressive, there would need to be far too much money put into it for updating to make it hypothetically worthwhile. The au pair was right about one thing, the estate agent was practically ruthless in his selling tactics in order to get if off the market quickly. Vex had politely declined as he never had any intention of purchasing it from the start. He spent the rest of the afternoon in his hotel room setting up meetings with various members of the Direx Board to secure further Imperial contracts. He had a lunch meeting with the feared Chiss arms dealer, Balthazar Nash, in two days. That contract alone would keep him in the Emperor's good graces.
The bistro is upscale but not overbearing with antique tables of varying sizes spaced evenly throughout the dining room. The bar has been restored from one of the original saloons when the system was first settled. The menu is expensive and not overly complicated. There is nothing worse than having to read a fucking novel of entree's and trying to select one before the wait staff became impatient.
Kylie Miranda steps into the restaurant exactly on time. She wears a simple black dress that is far more flattering than her outfit yesterday but not exactly pushing the limits of provocative. Still, she is radiant and it becomes clear to him that she is a woman who does not want to be judged by her appearance which is why she tries to conceal it. He stands to greet her.
"You look marvelous."
She blushes, "Thank you."
"They have a table for us if you are ready."
"Yes, thank you."
They are shown to a table by the window where he holds out a chair until she sits then rounds the table to sit in his own. She seems impressed with his manners. There are some things from his North Coruscant prep school days he has not forgotten.
"How was the showing?" she asks after ordering a glass of wine.
He laughs, "Depressing."
"How so?"
"Have you seen the Thibodaux place?"
"Not in years. I heard Aldus Thibodaux went completely insane."
"You are not wrong there," he says, smiling broadly. "The estate was practically in shambles with parts of the garden literally infused with the house itself. The upstairs bedrooms were like a jungle adventure."
"I take it you won't be making the purchase?"
"Unfortunately not."
"That's a shame."
"Is it?"
She shrugs, thanking the sommelier for the wine and swirling it slowly around in the glass for almost a minute before running it beneath her nose. She then takes a careful sip and smiles with approval.
"The local vineyards always yield such interesting flavors. So much of the region comes into play. If you lived here long enough, you would be able to tell where it came from."
He watches her closely, completely fascinated.
"You are somewhat of an expert, I take it."
"I suppose you could say I have an appreciation for particular tastes and always support local businesses. It's good for the townships."
"I imagine it is," Vex says. "Just how many are there?"
"There are only ten townships in D'ian. Ours is a relatively small planet that prides itself on sustainability. Most of the surrounding area between the townships are farmland, vineyards or small refineries. Very little of what we have here is imported save for the luxury items brought in by the Lord's and Lady's of their respective estates."
"That's impressive."
"I like to think so," she says softly. "We take great pride in what we do and although we all may not own an estate ourselves, we provide a certain charm that most find lacking in the larger cities of the sector."
Vex nods, "I'll say. The most charming thing about this place is you."
She blinks, stunned, uncertain what to say.
"Have I offended you? I apologize."
"No, no," she says, semi-meekly. "It's just..."
"Don't get paid many compliments?"
"Not usually, no. At least not so boldly anyway."
"I'm afraid I am a bit direct. You did say I don't do coy very well."
She laughs, "I did, didn't I? Well, that wasn't very nice of me."
"It's okay, I'll live. Barely."
They smile at each other across the table until the waiter comes to take their orders. While they wait for their meals, they cover all the basics. Kylie grew up on Etti IV but left when she was offered the position at the Gellar Estate. She has no siblings and her parents both died several years ago. The sense of self she retains from her work is evident in how she speaks about it. She mentions the children, how incredible it has been to watch them grow up before her eyes. The eldest is a teenager and quite clever.
Vex reciprocates freely, avoiding any major plot points that would hamper the evenings progress. He was born and raised on Coruscant, an only child as well, and his parents were both killed when the capital was destroyed many years ago. He was in university off world when the news broke but there was nothing he could do.
They seem to bond over a shared loss of their parental figures. His tactful phrasing paints him as someone who may be more sensitive than he would care to admit and this makes him more endearing to Kylie.
After dinner, they walk back toward the Gellar Estate. He takes her hand and she allows it. The night is unseasonably warm and a perfect breeze carries the intoxicating scents of the nearby meadows. When they arrives on the front steps, he kisses her hand.
"It's been a lovely evening."
"Yes, it certainly has. I must return to Etti IV in the morning but I would very much like to see you again."
Kylie nods, "I would like that too."
"May I call upon you sometime soon?"
"You may."
Vex smiles and leans in to kiss her softly on the lips. The gesture is sweet and lacks the force or presumption most men would possess in a similar position. She blushes again, reluctantly letting go of his hand.
"Goodnight, Vex."
"Goodnight, Kylie."
As he wanders back toward the township, Vex feels something he has not felt in years. Something he never thought he would be capable of feeling again. Not since Karen's presence consumed him, haunting him in the years following her death. There was something in the kiss and he felt it briefly but powerfully.
A spark.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Counselor Circe Prescott returns to her apartment after another long day. With the Republic flooded with applicants from systems wishing to gain admittance, the Senate docket is packed. Each session swells with sob stories from Imperial alliances that turned deadly or formerly sovereign nations seeking to throw a little muscle behind their dictatorships. The cases are deliberated on the floor but swift action is hindered by the growing number of delegates who rarely share common interests. The Republic has begun to adopt new tactics that include sending their fleet of diplomatic counselors to wayward systems in order to gather information and meet with the representatives prior to their ambassadors coming before the Senate. It serves as sort of a screening process to assess need and verify claims.
Normally, she would love the idea of meeting so many new people but some of their applicants come from dangerous systems that could place the diplomat in significant jeopardy, especially as they hedge into Imperial Remnant territory. Emperor Schrag, once an Admiral in the Imperial Navy under Dementat, has been a little too quiet on the home front. This greatly worries both Republic and surrounding systems alike. No one quite knows what to expect save for that it more than likely will not be pretty or subtle.
Circe slips off her heels and pulls open the window before making herself a cocktail. Her apartment is near the center of the city, a short distance from the Senate hall. It's minimally decorated with accents of post-modern art pieces she has collected over the years. Her mind drifts to her brother and the Gellar-Masterton's. Garron had gone to the Corporate Sector to study corporate law and scored an internship after graduation at ChemiX under Rutherford Gellar. They formed a powerful bond during Rutherford's darker days and, in some ways, kept him from going over the edge entirely. Instead of applying as one of the many soulless ChemiX attorney's, a position he could have easily done and probably hated, Rutherford offered him another position entirely. While an aide may not seem glamorous to most, Garron became much more than that. He served as both valet and confidant to Lord Gellar and in addition to his executive level salary, Garron was put on a hefty retainer to provide counsel in any given situation. Circe had been surprised at the career move since her brother had almost always wanted to defend the often times morally grey areas of influential corporations but she supported his decisions none the less.
Circe, on the other hand, had returned to the Republic following the events on Corellia ten years prior. She pleaded her case to the powers that be but that was before they had reestablished themselves as a formal government body and driving galactic force. The guilt she felt in leaving before the Empire arrived was not easy to overcome but, like many in her field, she sought professional counseling to temper her feelings with the reality of the situation. Her progress was muddled by Celeste Masterton's presence in the Corporate Sector and caused distance from Garron. She had maintained verbal communication but never visited out of an underlying fear that Celeste would somehow be furious that she released Kent Carlson's story and blame her for leaving Melanie and Kimber behind. In the years that passed, she focused on her career and helped grow relations between the fledgling Republic and the systems who flocked to them. It was a fulfilling life, one she values greatly but there was something missing. Romance was never high on her priority list but she missed the companionship of her former cohorts. She had grown very close to Melanie Masterton and the Republic agents who kept them safe. They were like a family of sorts and years after they had been lost, Circe realized she had cut herself off from other people. She feared that if anyone got close, they could be lost as well. Clearly, this was not a healthy pattern that she sought to rectify by taking the first step and approaching Celeste.
It had gone better than expected. Celeste had been so receptive to her and graciously bestowed mercy on her anguish. Melanie had ordered Circe to leave the High Commander's platform and return to the Republic. It is something she had told herself over and over again. Had she refused, she would have shared their fates. At least she lived to share the selfless way in which Melanie had cared for them all. It was something Celeste needed to hear. Her daughter was a hero who did what she felt best. There was no way anyone could have known how things would turn.
Circe sets down her glass and pads into her bedroom. She opens her closet and finds the box carefully hidden behind several blankets on the top shelf. Back in the living room, she sets the box down on the coffee table and sits on the couch. She stares at it for several minutes, running her fingers along the carved designs on the lid. It had been years since she had even brought it out. The memories were still fresh then. She had been so young when Melanie asked her to look after it. A fail-safe of sorts. Something to be passed down should anything happen to her. Melanie had made sure Circe had it with her when she left the Corellian Sector. Almost as if she had known.
Circe exhales and carefully opens the lid of the box.
Inside are two very important items.
The first is Melanie's original lightsaber, constructed on Yavin IV during her training. The second is the holocron containing the Persephonea Prophecy, translated by the Jedi and once sent to Kimber Patten when she was hiding in the Hapes Cluster. It had been returned when they regrouped on Arbra. Both items had been placed in the box and given to Circe before they fled to Corellia.
A part of her had wanted to bring these things to Celeste but felt that it may do more harm than good. The prophecy is something she was very familiar with as Melanie had broken it down and attached certain events and people to the deliberately vague text. They were trying to find a loophole in which the outcome, the birth of the Force messiah, could pass without interference. Finding none, Melanie knew the only way to ensure Kimber's safety was to face down Karen Winton. There is only one glaring fact Circe cannot overlook from the text. A fact that has stayed with her all this time.
And of The Four, only one can survive.
While Melanie was prepared to sacrifice her life for Kimber's, that was unfortunately not how the events of the past played out. Valerie had been killed by Phage and she can only speculate that Karen was slain by Melanie but both she and Kimber were lost when Centerpoint was destroyed.
So it seems in essence, the prophecy was wrong.
None of them survived.
Yet Melanie had believed in it fully and she was told a version of it was shown to their parents, including Celeste. Circe is uncertain as to how much of it Celeste actually knows and to reveal more than what was in Carlson's story may inflict deeper pain but it may also provide a sense of closure not afforded to Celeste and Rutherford.
Rutherford's clash with the Federation before the Senate and the mysteriously knowledgeable Ambassador Tacofer give Circe considerable pause. The recent leak of information regarding several senator's has served to pull back the spotlight from Gellar's statements and family to focus on the more present lurid scandal. She is hesitant to believe this was done solely by Rutherford which means he had inside help. Circe had not fed Garron information and it seems unlikely Celeste knew of the senator's affairs. There is word that Gellar and Tacofer are scheduled to hold closed door meetings, the nature of which is unknown. Would Rutherford even consider working with the Ambassador unless there was a common goal? Or a common threat, perhaps? Celeste had mentioned this woman, Mara Tacofer, knew things about their lives, things no one could possibly know. Is there a connection between them all or is she simply reaching into the paranoia that once plagued their small group a decade ago?
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Surface: Etti IV: Mondder
Vex Sienna returns to the Sector capital for a slew of meetings with prospective vendors. There are three companies the Empire values more than any others and he is expected to foster and maintain partnerships with the executives who sit on the Direx Board. This could gain them the clout they so desperately need in the wake of the Republic's resurgence.
Cybot Galactica (CG) - Finnius Dyre.
Palace Arms (PA) - Balthazar Nash.
ChemiX (CX) - Rutherford Gellar.
Droids, weapons and pharmaceuticals. They would need mass production of all three in order to stage a comeback on the scale Emperor Schrag desires. They would provide the groundwork for their new Imperial infrastructure and Vex is determined to get it for them. His first meeting is a dinner with Finn Dyre, a mousey and unassuming man who was much better with numbers than he was with public relations. It does not matter if the end result falls in their favor.
Vex meets him at an upscale eatery called Corridor 44 which is a hotspot for the wealthiest executives and almost impossible to get into unless you had some sort of standing. Dyre was apparently a regular although Vex cannot imagine him frequenting a place so lively. He approaches the table with confidence and introduces himself. Dyre stands and firmly shakes Vex's outstretched hand. Once they are both seated, the waiter arrives to take their drink order. Vex defers to Finn and asks what he would suggest, a classic move to show they are open to the way CG does things. Finn proposes he try a local seasonal ale that quenches the thirst while not holding back with the flavor.
When the drinks arrive, Vex is not disappointed. They toast but Finn is curious as to the nature of their meeting. Vex casually explains that he prefers to know those he would be working with more personally than faces sitting across from him in board meetings. This seems to relax Finn quite a bit and they order several unique tapas.
As the dinner progresses, Finn loosens up considerably after the second round. Vex admits they are looking to secure a contract for a hefty order, if Cybot Galactic was willing to take it on. He hopes there would not be too many invasive questions. After all, it is their business to provide a product without cross-examining their clients. Vex explains that he would send Finn the specifics of their order for CG to provide a bid on. He would then propose the bid to the Emperor on Byss and, if it was to his liking, Vex would schedule a time to sign the contracts on the Empire's behalf. Finn finds this information relatively straightforward and agrees to look over the order to see what they can do. They chum it up a bit before parting ways, a role Vex is no stranger to playing. It has been a long time since the days of the dazzling diplomat's who could charm system delegates despite the lack of formal training. Not that it hadn't been an effective tactic considering Contruum is still securely under Imperial control. In the Corporate Sector, however, it would take more than a blackmailed socialite to get the job done.
After dinner, Vex wanders the avenues of shops. Kylie Miranda had called earlier to say hello and they talked for almost an hour. In truth, she had not been far from his thoughts but he has to remind himself that she is only a mark and nothing more. Still, he rationalizes a way into Gellar's world without using her as collateral damage. Vex does not know how long this assignment would last but if he secured these contracts and maintained relations, he has a sneaking suspicion that he could move around and do as he pleased, up to and including a legit relationship with Kylie. A part of him longed for a return to a more traditional life after the years of infighting and confusion. It had been difficult to hold some of the systems that had aligned with them after the battle of Centerpoint. Some had come to see reason while others left them no choice but to invade. The rest seemed to vanish into the Republic's expanding influence and were granted admission. Those that did were earmarked for future conquest once the Empire had regained it military might.
With the ramp in production, the shipyards would now be teaming as the Emperor laid down plans for the new fleets. It would only be a matter of time before the galaxy once again feared the Empire.
None more than the Republic.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Concordia Township
As the school break draws to a close, Muriel Monroe decides to host a pool party. Being that her mother is a famous holoactress, people that are considered popular from her class and above are invited to the event. As much as she loathes her mother sometimes, her fame does open quite a few doors without question. She isn't close with very many at Valor Prep but her insecurities gave way to loneliness and she sent messages to a select few.
In some circles, this is called an establishing shot.
Of those in attendance, Trichelle Corinthos is the one at the center of attention. She is a class above Muriel and comes from money so old they can almost trace it back to the foundation of the sector itself. Her father owns some kind of utility which she has heard is fairly vital to almost everything. Her assumed boyfriend, Kier Kincaid lounges nearby having apparently inherited the same chiseled good looks as his retired pro-athlete father who now owns a successful string of luxury speeder dealerships.
Muriel is not as well versed in the sly tactics of socialization so she slips on a pair of sunglasses and dips her feet into the pool. A shadow falls across her and when she looks up, Tobias Harkan is smiling down.
"Mind if I sit with you?"
"Not at all."
He sticks his long legs into the cool water and sighs. Tobias is something of a rebel at Valor Prep with a rap sheet of infractions longer than most. His father heads up a booming medical practice on Etti IV specializing in plastic surgery that is widely considered to be the best in the sector. The sizable donations the practice makes to their school is probably the only reason Tobias hasn't been expelled.
"Nice of you to throw a party."
She shrugs, "It's the least I could do before we head back to school."
"You don't seem to be having a good time."
"Are you?"
"That's not what I asked."
Muriel smiles, "Boy, nothing gets past you."
"Well, it just seems to me like you are a bit uncomfortable in the hosting role. Could this be true?"
"Maybe."
"How come?"
Muriel nods to Trichelle and those swarming around her.
"It's hard to compete with someone like that hogging up the spotlight."
Tobias flashes a devilish grin, "No one said there can only be one spotlight."
"Oh yeah? I doubt the Espos would allow it."
"I won't tell if you won't."
"Still, I'll never be as attractive as Trichelle."
"No," Tobias says. "You are more so."
She blinks, stunned.
"You're crazy."
"Not even. Want to know why?"
She nods.
"Trichelle Corinthos is undeniable hot but she knows it. That tarnishes the shine a bit. But you? You are equally hot but have absolutely no idea. I think that puts you in a far better position. Contrary to popular belief, guys prefer real girls to the fake ones."
Muriel blushes, "Thanks, Tobi."
"I do what I can. Besides, look around. Everyone here - no, everyone in Concordia - is attractive. I think they exile you if you aren't. Something about zoning laws and such."
She laughs.
Tobias touches her hand as he pulls his legs from the water and stands up.
"Don't change who you are to please them. Just be you. I certainly am."
She feels a little better watching him walk away, thinking maybe not everything has to be a competition. Let Trichelle have her power and her mindless minions. Muriel stands and pads back into the house, angling toward the kitchen. She opens the fridge and pulls out an ice cold pitcher of juice, pouring herself a glass. When she turns around, Kier is leaning against the bar.
"Oh, hey Muriel."
"Hi, Kier"
"Does your mother keep any clear liquor in the house?"
She giggles, "I think she only drinks clear liquor. Something her trainer told her about calories."
"I've heard that somewhere."
Muriel moves past him and slides open a panel on the desk, withdrawing a bottle and handing it to him.
"Just don't puke in the pool, okay?"
Kier laughs, "It's not for me but I'll spread the word."
He moves back toward the open slider then pauses, turning back to her.
"Muriel?"
"Yes?"
"Is...Dahlia coming?"
She shakes her head, "I'm afraid not. She's still on Chandaar with her parents."
"Bummer."
"Tell me about it. Should I let her know you asked?"
Kier nods, "Sure. It's just, she should be here with us, you know?"
"I know."
Once he heads poolside, Muriel cannot contain herself and pulls out her comlink. She catches Dahlia's voicemail but decides it's too important to wait.
"Hey, it's me. You'll never guess who just asked about you?"
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Janessa Kain pulls the thin bed sheet around her and glances down at the cityscape below. Behind her, Senator Medio buttons up his shirt and reties his tie. The lunch hour is quickly drawing to a close and their tryst, while satisfying, is now in danger.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore.â€
He is caught off-guard and protests but she pointedly brings to his attention the recent scandals plaguing other members of the Senate. Information had been leaked and reputations were now in jeopardy. She does not wish to join the ranks of mistresses maligned in the press. Even though they had been careful, she ends the affair on the spot and sends him out the back to his speeder idling in the ally. This is not her first dalliance with a public official and certainly won’t be her last. In fact, there is clinical term for her compulsive need to sexualize her colleagues and her increasingly predatory behavior. She just needs to be more careful from here on out.
After a shower, Janessa dresses in her typically conservative business attire. She must play a role, after all. As the liaison between the Republic and Corporate Sector, her mediation skills are often required as the Sector delegates can be ruthless to the point of bloodshed if she isn’t quick to soften the idealistic Republic policies that infuriate them. The Sector deals strictly in bottom lines and deviations from that are not well received. Under normal circumstances, she could bed down the executives sent to do business here and in doing so learn things vital to Republic-Sector operations.
That is, until Rutherford Gellar showed up.
His notorious snobbery aside, Gellar is traveling with his wife and children and Celeste Masterton is not a woman to be trifled with. She is the mother of a Jedi who became a martyr to the cause. She is also highly favored and has a resoundingly positive reputation throughout the Sector. Knowing what she does about those families, Janessa is smart enough to leave well enough alone. After Gellar’s statements before the Senate, she has been instructed by her superiors to watch him carefully. Unfortunately, he has informed her that he would be attending closed-door meetings with the Federation Ambassador. She had reported this back to the Senate and noted that the meetings seemed to appear on a positive tone. This would buy them time to work through their differences or continue blackmailing each other until they were blue in the face – whichever they preferred.
Janessa has become concerned by the media attention swarming around the Gellar-Masterton family. Stranger still is how rapidly the attention was diverted by the suspiciously well-timed release of lurid details about certain Senator’s personal lives. Suspicious enough that Janessa has doused her impulses to remain out of the line of fire. She wonders just what will be discussed in this closed door meeting between Sector and Federation and how the outcome will affect the Republic as a whole.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
Vex Sienna shakes the cobalt tinted hand of Balthazar Nash. The imposing Chiss owns and operates Palace Arms, the largest weapons manufacturer in the Corporate Sector. All Espos and a fair amount of Republic agents carry his weapons. Now, he has signed one of the most lucrative deals in being the exclusive provider of weapons and artillery for the Imperial Remnant. Palace Arms had developed powerful hybrid blasters, rifles and launchers capable of destruction on a massive scale. The Republic has refused to consider them, favoring more traditional side arms but the Emperor has no qualms with acquiring such a dangerous assortment of instruments. He requested Sienna present Nash a special gift as a token of their appreciation, a priceless Chiss relic, that shows deep respect. The Emperor would be pleased by the response and Nash arranges for a round of product testing at the end of the week and, if they were satisfied with the results, the first shipment ready soon after.
Vex thanks him again and disappears into the crowds along the promenade's of Mondder. He is running late but does not increase the speed of his step. The triumph must be savored. It eases the anxiety over the fact that Finnius Dyre at Cybot Galactica is stalling on the bids for their contracts. He needs both executives in the Emperor's pocket. Rutherford Gellar has yet to return from Chandaar or report any progress in the dispute between the Sector and Federation which has angered the Direx Board. While this prevents him from approaching Gellar in regards to ChemiX contracts it does give him more time to spend with Kylie Miranda. He was able to coax her away from D'ian for a dinner on Mondder which is where he is heading now.
Kylie is waiting at a table at Cafe/Bar, one of the trendy eateries that have opened in midtown. He swoops in and smiles.
"So sorry to keep you waiting."
She laughs, "It's fine. I arrived early to visit some old friends. I don't often get back to Mondder."
After he is seated, she orders a glass of wine while he opts for a dark ale.
"Do you miss it?"
"At times," she says, almost hesitantly. "I've grown fond of the casual pace of life in D'ian."
"That's understandable."
"You, I take it, prefer the bustle of the city?"
"Born and raised city boy," Vex says. "Something about the energy and architecture."
Kylie's eyes shimmer as she raises the glass to her lips.
"Somehow that doesn't surprise me."
His com-link bleeps, almost unheard in the din of the restaurant. He frowns, pulling it out of his pocket. The incoming ID is from Byss.
"It's okay," she says. "Work is work."
Vex nods, stands and steps out onto the patio.
"Sienna."
"It's Pallus."
Agent Burke Pallus had been a long-time buddy and confidante through their days at the Carida Academy. He was almost killed in a training exercise involving Alexia Winton under the command of Tanner Graves.
"Pallus! How the hell are you?"
"Could be better," he says tightly. "Things going well in the Corporate Sector?"
"So far, so good. The beauty is the executives here could care less about faction when there is a monetary value attached. It's the universal language."
"That's promising. You'll need those contracts."
"You say that like I don't already know what's at stake."
"More than you may realize, my friend."
"What?" Vex says, suddenly uneasy. "What are you saying?"
"There have been rumors of an uprising," Pallus replies. "The Moff Council is dead."
"The Emperor had them killed?"
"Shot right out of the sky for all of Byss to see."
"A bit theatrical, don't you think?"
Pallus laughs hollowly, "But none the less effective. Schrag is looking for loyalty and results, Vex. Deviation will not be tolerated."
He turns, glancing through the giant window at Kylie sitting demurely at their table. She smiles and waves. He returns the gesture, speaking slowly into the com.
"I appreciate the call, Burke."
"Watch your back."
The line cuts out as Vex stands holding the com-link, staring out into the crowded promenade.
-TBC
-
Dathomir
The caves hum with the dark energies of the Voss-Ra as the elders come together in prayer. Through their powerful magic's, they have also sensed a disruption in the Force. While they themselves are not considered sensitive in the traditional sense, they do share a connection and methods of detection. This means their foot soldier had done his job in making contact and confirmed their suspicions. The side on which the last Winton royal would fall is where they now focus their thoughts.
The Voss-Ra elders meditate deeply, chanting in a language long forgotten by most. They are, by historical accounts, descendants of the original inhabitants of Korriban that spawned the Sith. Forsaking traditional Force practices, they had turned to esoteric and malevolent magic that granted them immense power and clarity including the ability to glamour an appearance of those they wished to imitate and allow them the freedom to infiltrate otherwise inaccessible avenues. Their scarred flesh is self-inflicted through ritual burning and mutilation. The physical agony releases them from the mortal plane and connects them to the dark forces swirling beneath the surface of the worlds. Cannibalistic and ruthless, they seek only a galaxy destabilized in chaos and horror.
The Republic threatens this goal as does the questionable legacy of The Four.
Their oracles have foreseen an infection of darkness, nation turning upon nation, kin upon kin, until the all systems are stained crimson with the blood of trillions. They have also seen the legacy as means to prevent this, to give back what their sacred Abominations had taken away. To circumvent peace and be granted immortality, their oracles have seen only true path.
Consume the hearts of the legacy and the galaxy will fall.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Garron Prescott had been given leave during the negotiations and after he swung by to drop off the vaccine for Lord Gellar, he departed to attend a rather surprising lunch invitation from Janessa Kain, the Republic liaison to the Corporate Sector. She was nearing thirty or so but never looked a day over twenty-two and had been in the position since the Republic had established themselves in the wake of the Centerpoint battle. She was well-known through the sector, mostly due to her extensive knowledge in the customs of various races, particularly the history and tradition of the most powerful families. She was beautiful and clever but her methods seemed calculated, as if she always had her own agenda. He supposed everyone does. Garron had spoken and met with her on many occasions, most recently to coordinate Lord Gellar's trip to the capital. These interactions had never been more than business formalities but the request is one he can capitalize on.
He meets her at Opal, an upscale bistro near the Senate hall. They are seated promptly despite the waiting list. Janessa's clout bypasses such things and soon they are enjoying afternoon cocktails.
"It's nice to be able to finally sit down with you."
Garron regards her curiously, "Is it? I was under the impression I hardly registered to you."
"Why would you say that?"
"I'm merely a valet."
"Oh," Janessa says, slyly. "You much more than that. Besides, it is my responsibility to familiarize myself with sector contacts which allows me to better serve you."
"That's probably a smart business move."
She pushes her dark hair over her shoulder and smiles, "I'd like to think so. May I ask how you are enjoying your time in the Republic capital thus far?"
"I suppose that will depend on the outcome in the Senate."
"True enough," she says lightly. "I was not expecting such a personal appeal from Lord Gellar."
Garron takes a sip and tilts his head.
"Nor was I."
"No doubt the Federation put him in a bind. A shame, really. Using his past against him in such a way. I had not made the connection to Valerie Gellar until it was spoken aloud although a part of me had always figured as much. They have similar characteristics."
"Do they?"
She shrugs, "Both the former Corellian Governess and Lord Gellar are passionate and fiercely driven. After the hearings, I decided to brush up on the subject in the event of further questioning when I realized how, despite reports to the contrary, what Valerie Gellar did for Corellian people was a truly selfless sacrifice."
Garron nods slowly, "Indeed."
"It was inspiring none the less. Any word on how the discussions are going?"
"Nothing solid, only that they are ongoing. I believe the tone is a positive one."
"What makes you so sure?"
"I think Lord Gellar and the Federation Ambassador realize that referencing a past neither than change will not benefit the Republic in the present. In the end, I think cooler heads will prevail."
Janessa grins, raising her glass, "I'll drink to that."
They toast.
"There is something I wanted to ask."
She leans forward, "Certainly. How can I help?"
"I see you have considerable social sway on Chandaar. Does this, perhaps, extend to the media as well?"
Janessa arches a brow, "It might. Go on."
"Lady Masterton and the children were asked along on a supportive field trip of sorts. They had never been to the capital and thought it could be educational. They did not expect the scene that unfolded nor were they prepared for the ambush the local press pulled while they were exploring the city. Lady Masterton is very protective of the children and their exposure combined with the salacious innuendo's have everyone concerned."
"That's understandable."
"If they were my own children, I would not want them exposed to the politics of adults. They grow up too fast as it is."
"So I hear," she says, lowering her voice. "Is this something you wish me to remedy?"
"If you would be so kind."
Her gaze becomes something else entirely.
"I think it can be arranged."
*
Back in his suite at the Hotel Ovallus, Garron dresses quietly and pads back out in the living room. It was a small and thrilling price to pay for the protection of those he serves. Janessa had left to meet with her contacts, leaving him alone to finish up some work. With any luck, she would be able to erase any mention and associated photage from the public record.
The message he received from Lord Gellar implemented their secondary protocol in concealing Dahlia's identity from the public.
The Force vaccine is merely part of it. The children had been slowly weaned off it over the years as there had been no sign of any threat. Now, it seems, that may have been premature. Garron draws up the paperwork to seamlessly change Dahlia's last name from Greyson to Gellar and his extensive network within the Corporate Sector municipalities could ensure this would overwrite any previous documentation that said otherwise. It had been suggested when Lord Gellar legally adopted Dahlia but Lady Masterton had insisted Dahlia retain some of her heritage in honor of the slain Queen. Rutherford had not fought her on it then but had tasked Garron with having such documents ready if and when the time arose. These documents, when finished, would be forwarded to the D'ian system and into the Valor Prep database. The name Greyson would cease to exist as if Dahlia had always been part of the Gellar-Masterton family. In essence, that is the truth.
Dahlia had been raised exclusively by Rutherford and Celeste. They are the only parents she knows. The recent events had piqued her curiosity and a part of him was in favor of her finding out the truth but not at the expensive of Dane and Gemma's safety. He had to consider the family as a whole, including Lord and Lady alike. In some ways, they had become his family too and Garron would protect them as such.
Very few knew the actual truth about Dahlia Winton and the bloodline she continues.
Garron intends to keep it that way.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Celeste and the children return to the Hotel Ovallus where they prepare for their departure back to the Corporate Sector. It may have appeared a bit hasty but with good reason. School was on the verge of beginning again and she would hate for the children to be unprepared. This jaunt had unsettled their routine and to be honest, it had unsettled Celeste as well.
Mara Tacofer may appear helpful but she has much to hide. Of that much, she is certain. She had been able to connect Dahlia to the Winton's much too easily and implied genetic characteristics that made no sense for a Federation Ambassador to possess. True, Mara had taken down Alexander Winton and acquired his files but there should be no such file on Dahlia. Alexander never knew about Monica's pregnancy or that he had a third child who, with the help of Master Corrin, escaped Naboo with Celeste.
Unless he did know.
The Jedi Master had vanished shortly after the twins were born.
No one knows what became of him.
Celeste forces back a wave of nausea that threatens to overcome her. This is not the time for negative thinking. Despite their misgivings about one another - Mara, Celeste and Rutherford were going to have to work together to ensure no part of Alexander Winton's agenda resurfaces. It was something no one could allow. The mere notion of a plot simmering over the course of the last decade toward a boiling point is enough to send Celeste into a panic. As a mother, her primary instinct is to protect her children and getting them out of the Republic capital seems like a perfect place to start.
Gemma and Dane seem agitated.
"Why can't we stay here with dad?"
"We can keep Riley company."
"Yeah! We never get to make any new friends!"
Celeste sighs, "You have plenty of friends, my darlings."
"Only in Concordia," Dane grumbles.
"It's okay," Gemma says, comforting him. "We'll see Riley again."
"Yes, you will. So let's focus on packing."
They saunter off toward their rooms.
Just as Celeste has that settled, Dahlia rounds the corner with the hotel com-link to her ear.
"I got a message from a woman at the Nalaa Grey public relations department asking if I would be interested in modeling-"
"No," Celeste says firmly. "Absolutely not."
"Mom!"
"Please stop whining, Dahlia. I am not in the mood for it right now."
She huffs and puffs, "I can't even meet with her? That's so unfair!"
Gathering herself, Celeste stops and turns around slowly.
"Dahlia, fashion modeling is a highly competitive industry that places value solely on personal appearance while advocating unhealthy habits that endanger many young women."
Dahlia shrugs.
"I'm not seeing the problem."
"Well, I do."
"Wasn't Melanie a model for Raga'Ana?"
The question is simple enough and not intended as a dig but it stings none the less. This is not the time nor the place to get into a discussion on such a scale.
"Yes," Celeste says evenly. "That is how I know it is not a good idea and I will not be questioned to the contrary. We are returning to the sector where you will resume your studies and that's that. Is there any part of what I just said that is in any way unclear?"
"No."
"Good. Now, gather your things. We are leaving."
*
Garron Prescott meets them out in the hall. Hotel staff already has their luggage down in their transport. Garron heads up the security detail and escorts them to the shuttle platform.
"Safe travels, Lady Masterton. I will make sure Lord Gellar's business is concluded smoothly."
"I appreciate that," Celeste says warmly. "Please send my regards to your sister and let her know she is welcome to visit any time."
"She'll be thrilled to hear it."
Celeste nods and follows the children up the ramp. Night has fallen, staining the sky a brilliant amber. Once everyone is buckled up tight, Celeste fastens herself in and exhales slowly. She would be glad to return to the lush D'ian landscape. The shuttle idles momentarily before lifting off the platform and streaking up across the sky. There is a bit of turbulence as it breaks through the atmosphere but as the nav computers complete their calculations, the shuttle flares into hyperspace headed home.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
Kylie Miranda is waiting on the steps of the Gellar Estate when they arrive. Dane and Gemma bound into her outstretched arms, not realizing how much they actually missed her. Kylie had been a powerfully stable presence in their lives and they looked upon her as sort of a big sister.
Celeste approaches with Dahlia trailing behind.
Kylie ushers the children into the house and smiles, "Welcome home, Lady Masterton."
"Thank you, Kylie. It's so good to see you. How has everything been here?"
Droids swoop in to gather the luggage as they walk through the grand foyer.
"Good but better now that you have returned. The house feels so empty without the family in it."
"I couldn't agree more," Celeste says. "It's too big for just one person. I hope you haven't been dreadfully lonely."
"Oh, I've been keeping myself busy. How was the capital?"
"It was...interesting, to say the least. Lord Gellar stayed on to conclude his business. I had to get the children back."
Kylie nods, "For school. I have gathered the required reading lists and revised class schedules. They are in your office to review at your leisure. Shall I get us some tea?"
Celeste smiles, "I'd love some."
*
Upstairs, Dahlia showers and changes into a simple grey top and short black pleated skirt. She flips her crimson hair over her shoulder and steps into a pair of platform sandals. The ruined dress hangs on the closet door, taunting her. She glowers, struggling with the pieces of her memory that appear to be missing. Her mother sure wanted them out of there quickly. Curious, yes but not conclusive. She has other suspicions, ones she needs desperately to share with someone she trusts.
She asks her mother if she can go to Muriel's. Celeste allows it as long as she's back at a reasonable hour. Dahlia instructs the driver where to take her and sits silently in the back of the hoverlimo, staring at the outlines of the trees as they whiz by.
When she arrives at the Monroe Estate, Dahlia steps out of the limo and strides toward the massive carved doors.
A protocol droid answers, recognizing her immediately and granting her access.
Dahlia finds Muriel in the living room, curled up on the couch. She springs up when she sees her.
"Dahl!"
"Hey, friend!"
Muriel throws her arms around her, "Oh my Maker, I've been soooo bored! You have no idea how good it is to see you."
"Ditto, darling. The Republic capital is lame in major way."
"Shopping?"
"Barely! And I managed to ruin my favorite dress."
Muriel gasps, "Not the green halter!"
"Totes."
"So tragic. How?"
Dahlia shrugs, "I can't remember."
"Now, that's the sort of thing I'd think you'd recollect."
"Normally, yes but it was a strange trip all around."
They falls onto the couch.
Muriel frowns, "How so?"
"You remember what you told me a couple of months ago....about that movie your mother did?"
"Vogue Empire?"
"Yes."
"What about it?"
"You said you had heard we were related to those people."
Muriel nods, "I remember and I saw the reports out of Chandaar. Terrible thing about what happened with Valerie Gellar."
"It's not just her. It's the others too."
Dahlia clutches her best friends hands, staring intensely into her face.
"Dahlia, what's wrong? You are scaring me."
Dahlia's lip trembles as she finally says it aloud.
"I think you were right. Valerie is Rutherford's granddaughter. Melanie is Celeste's daughter and technically the half sister of Dane and Gemma. And me?"
A tear slides down her cheek.
"I think...I'm a Winton."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Monroe Estate
There is a powerful silence that passes between them as the statement hangs in the air, growing, bloated and confusing. Muriel clutches Dahlia's hands tightly, wearing an expression of pained sympathy. When the reports first broke out of Chandaar, tying members of certain families together as if on a lurid string, Muriel had been curious. The photage of Karen Winton in all her celebrity glory had struck the same chord. Dahlia did share an uncanny resemblance to the Sith royal but she had dismissed it from her mind just as quickly. There was no proof to speak of, either presented by the Gellar-Masterton's or even alluded to in the documentary on The Four or the cineplex movie that followed it. But by the look on Dahlia's face, Muriel can sense that she believes it and tries to tread carefully.
"Why would you think that?"
Dahlia swallows hard, "You saw the photage. Her face. It's my face."
"That's...circumstantial or something."
"Is it?"
Muriel shrugs, "I don't know. Maybe."
"There's more. I ran a search on the parents while I was on Chandaar. Alexander Winton and Queen Monica Greyson. I share the features of one and the surname of the other."
"That's crazy!"
Dahlia breaks their hold and turns to the mini-projector in the center of the coffee table. After accessing the Holonet, she keys in the same search terms but scans for images. Holograms of their faces fill the space above the table. Dahlia leans back and turns to Muriel.
"Tell me about it."
Muriel inhales sharply, instantly noticing the similarities. Alexander's crimson hair and emerald eyes. Monica's high cheek bones and supple, pouty lips. It is not something she can dispute outright, especially with the connection to the Greyson name.
"Dahlia...."
"No, I know. It sounds completely insane but think about it carefully, Muriel. Our intensely secluded upbringing, the vaccine..."
"I thought you guys stopped taking that."
"We did," Dahlia says. "Until now. We were given doses on the shuttle before we left the Republic capital."
"Why?"
"Good question."
Muriel shutters, "What does the vaccine do anyway?"
"It disrupts the mid-chlorians in our systems. You know, those symbiotic whatever's that connect everything? Well, on the vaccine no one can feel you through the Force. It's like, you simply aren't there."
"But it doesn't harm you, does it?"
"No."
"And it doesn't affect your ability to like, levitate stuff."
"True but why is it so important for us to be invisible? I don't see your mother cramming it down your throat on the daily."
Muriel laughs.
"That's kind of a poor example of parental protectiveness. Your parents are just cautious because they care. It's not uncommon for most parents to want to protect their children from potential harm."
Dahlia crosses her arms, "There's a fine line between protection and a cover up."
"Are you listening to yourself? You sound paranoid! Why would you even think such a thing?"
"Something happened on Chandaar."
"Something...bad?"
"I don't know."
Muriel frowns, "Then what was it?"
"I can't remember! There are like, holes in my memory. My parents and this Ambassador were working and they sent us down to an arcade."
"Dreadful."
"Seriously. Well, things were going fine when Gemma disappeared. Dane, Riley and I went to find her and that's the last thing I remember before waking up on a table in a security office."
Muriel tilts her head, "Who's Riley?"
"Oh, the Ambassador's nephew. I was basically the chaperone to a play-date. And here's the kicker - Riley is the boy in Gemma's nightmare's."
"The one's about the monsters?"
"Yup."
"So, this kid who you met on Chandaar has been in your little sisters dreams since she was a toddler? How is that even possible?"
Dahlia throws her hands up, "Beats me!"
"And you don't remember anything that happened after you went to look for Gemma?"
"Not a thing. Apparently, I fainted and somehow ruined my dress. I hadn't eaten very much and I was going to take everyone to lunch when it happened."
Muriel sighs, "Have you asked Dane or Gemma?"
"About what?"
"Duh, the fainting thing! Do they remember what happened?"
"If they do, they aren't spilling. They just get all weird and evasive."
"That's...probably not a good thing."
Dahlia groans, "You've got a point."
"Listen," Muriel says. "If you are really concerned about it, just ask your mother."
"And say what? I think I'm related to an insanely popular Sith maniac? Muriel, the Queen was my mother's best friend back in the day. I can't just bring it up without sounding like I'm accusing her of stealing the Queen's child. It's a touchy subject."
"Then handle it delicately."
"There is something else...something Garron said."
"Your father's valet? He's way dreamy."
"And completely uptight. I tried to leave the hotel to confront my father after I saw the reports. I was going to ask him right then and there. Of course, the security agents wouldn't let me go and Garron brought me to his suite to calm me down. I brought up the Winton name and he got all philosophical on me. He asked me if they raised, cared for and loved me then should it really matter?"
Muriel frowns, "That doesn't exactly sound like a denial."
"No but it wasn't confirmation of anything either. He knows something."
"Let me guess, he's not coughing up answers either."
"Bingo. I just get this feeling everyone around me is keeping secrets. I hate that."
"Who wouldn't? That's a terribly uncomfortable position to be in. So, I'm urging you to sit down with your mother and have a conversation. Otherwise this is going to drive you crazy."
"You think I'm being ridiculous?"
She shakes her head, "Of course not. You've made some valid points but a lot of it is just speculation. You won't know for sure unless you ask."
Dahlia sighs, "You may be right."
"But...?"
"I'm going to start with Dane and Gemma first."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
Dahlia returns to the Gellar Estate a little after nine. She knows she's pushing it but rationalizes the time away requires some catching up with friends. The security agents at the front door watch her step out of the hoverlimo and stride past them without so much as a word. The conversation with Muriel had put things in a badly needed perspective and she feels considerably calmer than she has in weeks.
Inside, Celeste is curled up on a couch in the sitting room reading. She is trying not to look like she's waiting up but Dahlia knows that's exactly what she was doing. She smiles at the thought and crosses through the foyer.
"You're home."
She nods.
"How is Muriel doing? Is her mother still on location?"
Dahlia sighs, "She's fine if not a bit lonely. Her mother has been on location on Tatooine for the new feature. Something about a moisture farmer and his wife with dreams of escaping to a better life."
"I imagine that's not entirely a stretch in reality. You know, darling, Muriel is more than welcome to stay here if she wants. I can arrange things with LeVanya. The last thing I want is for that poor girl to be left all alone for so long."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. She's very sweet and deserves to be around others who care about her."
Dahlia considers this, "I'll talk to her about it. Where's Dane and Gemma?"
Celeste sets the book down, "Already asleep. They were tuckered out from the trip home. I'm surprised you aren't exhausted as well."
"Oh, I am but I had to catch up on all the gossip. Apparently, some boy at school was asking about me while we were gone."
"Which boy?"
"Kier Kincaid."
"He's nice, isn't he?"
Dahlia shrugs, "I suppose so, if you like boys who are barely a step above a primitive."
"That's rather harsh, don't you think?"
"He's a jock, mom."
Celeste stifles a laugh.
"Well, everyone has to be good at something. There is nothing wrong with athletics. Your brother is quite skilled at it."
"Good for him."
Celeste takes a more neutral tone.
"Dane has athletics. Gemma has her voice. You can put together a spectacular outfit from practically nothing. You all have wonderful strengths and we are proud of you for them."
"Yet you won't even consider letting me show them off. I want to be the face of a brand like Melanie was for Raga'Ana."
"Dahlia, sit with me for a moment."
She hesitantly crosses the room and lowers herself on the couch. Celeste folds her hands in her lap and stares into Dahlia's emerald eyes.
"We are not trying to be overbearing or controlling. I think we encourage the gifts you all possess but there is something to be said about learning from past experiences."
She pauses, aiming for levity.
"When Melanie and her friends were offered those contracts, they were so young and the company made all sorts of promises. I had a very different life back then and I couldn't always be there to regulate the fine print. Long days, late nights, obligations to appear at a variety of questionable functions for girls of that age. They were forced into a spotlight they weren't ready for. People hounded them constantly. The press followed them everywhere. They could barely breath without it being documented in the media. Their friends were adversely affected as well, pulled into a whirlwind they had no power to control or stop. They became more isolated because of the attention instead of being included and engaged in the traditional activities of a teenager. Celebrity has a considerable price, one I could not protect them from. I do not want you to end up like Melanie or her friends."
The conversation had taken a sharp turn. They were no longer just talking about Nalaa Grey or the potential to represent the brand. Dahlia does not interrupt because Celeste so seldom speaks about Melanie or her life before she came to the Corporate Sector. It had always seemed she walled that part of herself off from everyone else, as if it pained her to even contemplate who she was before.
Dahlia instinctively places her hand over Celeste's.
"I don't want to be them, mother. I just want to be me."
Celeste blinks away tears.
"I know, my darling. We have tried very hard to keep you safe so that you, your brother and sister would not grow up so quickly. Perhaps there is a part of me that wishes you could stay my babies forever. It's silly, I know. One day, in the very, very distant future, you will understand what I mean. So, do me a favor in the meanwhile?"
"What?"
"Humor me."
Dahlia groans, "Alright. I'll be the typical teenager."
Celeste hugs her tightly, "Thank you."
"I'm going to get some sleep."
"Sleep tight. Always know how much I love you."
Dahlia pauses in the arched doorway of the sitting room.
"I love you too."
On the way up the giant staircase, she reflects on what Garron had said. She knows her parents adore her and have given her everything. Her life, on the whole, was perfect. Maybe her speculation was just a reaction to the angst and budding rebellion all children feel toward their parents when they reach a certain age. Her mother was always going on about the adolescent struggle with identity. She could simply be finding her own.
Still, something tugs at the corners of Dahlia's mind. A nagging sense that something is amiss. The careful veneer of their structured lives seems forced at times and that leads her to wonder if both her mother and father are overcompensating for something. They had lost much in the past, their entire immediate families, and Dahlia cannot even begin to imagine how that must feel. Perhaps they cling to those closest to them out of guilt or anguish and they cannot be faulted for that. She fathoms it must have been incredibly difficult to start over, to climb out of the darkness of grief and rebuild. In a way, that touches something in Dahlia, endearing them to her.
Maybe she would lay off them for a while and just enjoy the life she has instead of dreaming of what could be. There is plenty of time to be anything she wants to be. In her room, she switches on the bedside lamp and slips out of her platforms. It has been a long day. What is it about space travel and fatigue? Lightspeed seems to really wear a girl down. She smiles as she gazes at herself in the mirror, running a finger along her flawless skin.
"It could be worse," she whispers.
The light behind her dims as another crimson haired girl enters the reflection, a sinister smirk pulling at her perfectly full and polished lips.
"Oh, it will be."
Dahlia gasps, whirling around. The bedroom is empty yet she clutches the vanity for dear life. Her heart pounds as she tries to reason with her own mind. No one is here. She is just seeing things because she is tired. Yes, blame it on the exhaustion. It's easier that way. Tell yourself lies to dull the roar of questions you may already have answers to. Convince yourself that everything is going to be fine.
She climbs into bed and pulls the covers up around her face. Her eyelids are so heavy now and as she drifts away, the voice calls softly.
"Those who keep you closest are the ones that will deceive you the most."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Valor Preparatory Academy
The day begins like any other. Shower, freshly pressed uniforms, breakfast and the morning send off Celeste gives as they shuffle past and into the hoverlimo which delivers them to school. Classes resume with ferocity, as if there had never been a holiday in between semesters.
The final bell sounds and Dahlia meets Muriel in the main quad where they wait for Dane and Gemma to join them. As they linger, giggling amongst themselves, other classmates appear from the crowd.
"Say, Dahlia. Heard your dad is making friends with the Trade Federation. He might as well kiss his career goodbye."
Trichelle Corinthos emerges from the pack, arms crossed and fired up.
Muriel shrinks back but Dahlia narrows her eyes.
"Thank you for that unsolicited outburst, Trichelle but do us all a favor and drop dead."
The crowd reacts but the queen bee is having none of it.
"Good one but you're delusional if you think the Direx Board will stand for it. I wonder where you'll go when you can't afford Valor Prep. The slums of Etti IV perhaps? Daddy dearest disgraceful indeed."
Kier Kincaid steps up behind her, "Just leave her alone, Trich."
"No, someone needs to say what everyone is thinking."
Dahlia rolls her eyes, "Why don't you just tell me what your problem is so I can get on with not caring."
Trichelle smirks.
"Everyone knows what he did. Selling off his granddaughter to a psychopath. Better start packing. It's only a matter of time before your on the auction block. And, if you can't fetch the right price, I'll bet your little sister just might-"
Dahlia's fist connects with her face so quickly it cuts her off in mid-sentence. Trichelle is thrown back against Kier's chest before crumpling to the ground. The crowd is caught between gasping and cheering when the Valor Prep security swoop in to break it all up. Dahlia is hauled into the office with Muriel and Kier trailing behind. Trichelle is carried to the nurses office.
The principle takes statements from Muriel and Kier while Dahlia sits in front of the Headmaster in his cavernous office.
"Have anything to say for yourself, young lady?"
Dahlia crosses her legs and smiles.
"Believe me when I tell you, she had it coming."
The Headmaster's expression is dour. He is not amused.
"That is exactly what your friends and other witnesses are saying as well. Miss Corinthos instigated the altercation but it was you, miss Gellar, who threw the first punch."
"That's Greyson."
The Headmaster glances at his screen.
"Your records indicate otherwise, miss Gellar."
Dahlia is stunned and confused but right now, that is the least of her worries.
"Am I going to need a lawyer? My counsel is currently on Chandaar with my father."
"I don't think that will be necessary but one can never be too careful. This is, however, not the type of behavior we expect from the student body at Valor Preparatory. I am very disappointed in you, miss Gellar."
"I assume you will be calling my mother?"
"Lady Masterton is already on her way and you will be suspended while we review your behavior with the conduct board."
"But we just started the semester! I'll fall behind!"
The Headmaster's face tightens.
"Then I suppose you should have thought about that when you were assaulting miss Corinthos. You may go."
Dahlia sighs as she stands and walks out of the office. In the hall, Muriel, Kier and Tobias are waiting for her.
"Nice moves," Tobias says. "Want some ice?"
She looks at her swollen hand, gingerly moving the fingers.
"Thanks but I'll be needing more than that..starting with a manicure."
Muriel frowns.
"Oh, Dahlia, I'm so sorry. We tried to tell them Trichelle started everything."
"It's okay. I reacted poorly."
Kier stares at her, "No, you reacted appropriately. She was way out of line."
Dahlia regards him curiously.
"Won't you be banished for associating with the likes of us?"
"Doubtful," Kier says smugly. "You'll be a hero by morning."
"How wonderful for me."
"Forgive me if I don't share your enthusiasm." Celeste Masterton says sternly.
Tobias, Muriel and Kier disperse quickly, leaving Dahlia alone to face her mother.
"So, this is what you call being a typical teenager? I must be behind the times."
"Mom..."
"Spare me," Celeste sighs. "This is not the venue for such a discussion. Your brother and sister are waiting."
She turns on her expensive white heels and stalks away from the office. Dahlia fortifies herself for the inevitable lecture and follows.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Gellar Estate
Dane creeps down the hall and raps on Gemma's bedroom door. She answers and ushers him inside quietly. They know things are tense in the house. It permeates everything so they stay safely out of sight.
"Dahlia is in so much trouble."
Gemma does circles around him, "We might be too."
"What? How? We didn't get suspended."
"Riley's not answering his com."
"So?"
"So, what if he told?"
Dane sighs, "He promised he wouldn't, Gem."
"I dunno, Dane. I've had this feeling all day like something is wrong."
"Something is wrong! Dahlia punched out the most popular girl in school."
"Besides that. Riley's aunt seems kind of scary. She was looking at me funny before I left."
Dane laughs, "That's because you too couldn't keep your hands off each other. You totally like him."
"I do not!"
"Do too!"
"Okay, so maybe I do. A little. He's important. I don't know how but he is. There has got to be a reason I've been dreaming about him for years and that the monster called him the forth."
Dane shutters.
"Can we not talk about that right now?"
"Why not? It happened. You saw it."
"A part of me wishes I didn't."
"You didn't tell anyone, did you?"
"No!"
"Not even Alka? Or Roman?"
"No, what about you? Did you tell Preston?"
Gemma gasps.
"Of course not. No one would believe me anyway. If Riley tells the Ambassador she will tell dad and then he will tell mom and we will both be in for it."
"Maybe his aunt wouldn't believe him either. Besides, we don't know what happened after we left."
"Dahlia did something."
"Like what? She's not exactly a fighter. Maybe the monster just left."
"Then why doesn't she remember? She hasn't asked about it once."
Dane shrugs, "She probably doesn't want to think about it either. That thing was pretty gross. Why would you even go with it anyway?"
"I told you," Gemma says. "It didn't look like that before. It...changed."
"That sounds crazy."
"I know! I'm scared."
"It can't get you here," Dane says. "We're safe."
"It knew us, Dane. It called Riley the forth."
"I don't know what that means."
"Me either."
Dane brightens, moving toward her consol.
"We could find out."
Gemma leaps forward, grabbing his wrist before he can turn it on.
"No, dad monitors everything we do. They will know we are looking."
"Then what do you want to do?"
Gemma bites her lower lip and thinks.
"We could search at school tomorrow. If anyone asks, we can say it's for research. That's not a lie."
"This is really bothering you, isn't it?"
"Yes."
He pulls her into a hug, "Okay, we'll look into it."
*
Downstairs, things are not going well. Kylie Miranda had gotten through dinner as swiftly as possible, ordering the fleet of droids into action. Celeste is fuming, trying to find the right way to approach her daughter about her inexcusable behavior. The actions bring back memories of another student who lost control at North Coruscant High and the repercussions that cost many people their lives.
Surprisingly, it is Dahlia who breaks the ice.
"I'm not some maniac, you know. It's not like I attacked her without provocation."
"While I am certainly impressed by your vocabulary, it doesn't change facts. You assaulted another student. I don't think you realize how serious an offense this is."
"Trichelle said associating with the Trade Federation would cost dad his job."
"You shouldn't be discussing business at school, Dahlia. What your father does should not concern you or anyone else."
"The things their parents do is what most of those kids talk about!"
Celeste senses something deeper.
"Is that all she said to you?"
Dahlia shakes her head, "No. That wasn't what pushed me over the edge."
"What was it?"
Dahlia lowers her eyes.
"It's okay, you can talk to me."
Their eyes connect.
"She said dad sold Valerie and that he would sell us too."
Celeste goes to her, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"Oh, darling, you know that's not true at all. Your father adores all three of you more than anything else in the worlds."
"But he did sell Valerie, didn't he?"
"No, he didn't. Your father was blackmailed by a very dangerous man."
"Alexander Winton."
"That is not a name I want to hear pass through your lips again. He was extremely manipulative with allies throughout the known galaxy who put your father and I in considerable peril on more than one occasion."
Dahlia seizes the opportunity.
"Is that why my school file was changed?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Headmaster said my record lists me as Dahlia Gellar. Not Greyson. You still think this man poses a danger to us, don't you? It's the reason we are taking the vaccine again."
Celeste's jaw tightens.
"Winton murdered my husband and my best friend and he would have murdered me if it were not for Rutherford and the vaccine."
"He can't hurt you if he's dead."
"That's not entirely true. We don't know how many are still loyal to him or if they will make an attempt to finish what he started."
"Which is what exactly?"
Celeste swallows, "There is much you do not understand."
"I could if you told me."
"It's not something I want you to worry about."
Dahlia scoffs, "There could be people out there who want you and dad dead. That worries me."
"That's the last thing we want."
"Wait," she says, narrowing her emerald eyes. "You think these people would hurt us too? Me, Dane and Gemma?"
"We don't know, darling. That is why we take precautions."
"So, you would have us live our lives in the shadow of a giant question mark? We can't run around hiding from a ghost! There has to be more to the story than that."
Celeste takes a step back.
"Perhaps but it is not one you are going to hear tonight. Right now, we need to focus on the present. The conduct board will hold a hearing to decide your fate at Valor Prep. If you make a sympathetic plea, they may not expel you."
"You expect me to apologize to Trichelle?!"
"If you value your education and standing within the community, yes. You will find there are many times in life we must put aside our own feelings for the greater good. I'm not saying she was right. I'm saying that violence solves nothing. You are better than that and you will apologize to have the suspension lifted."
"That's all?"
"No," Celeste says, moving away. "Then you are grounded."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian Sector: Surface: Valor Prep
The excitement radiating throughout the campus is palpable. Rumors that the social hierarchy is in a state of upheaval begin to swirl. Dahlia is the name on the tip of everyone's tongues. Trichelle Corinthos refused to return to school due to a bruise no amount of foundation would conceal. With Dahlia suspended, Muriel Monroe becomes the most sought after coed overnight. As the student body clamors for information, Tobias Harkan and Kier Kincaid step in to shield Muriel from their advances.
The winds of change are blowing.
Meanwhile, Gemma and Dane steal away to the computer lab after school. They had to cleverly untangle themselves from their friends. Neither wished to involve anyone until they knew more. Gemma has not mentioned to Dane that when she tried calling Riley again at lunch, his com channel was out of service.
They sit side by side at terminals, accessing the schools network and search portal. Dane starts simple, typing in: the forth.
Did you mean: "The Four?"
The Four...the forth...it was worth a shot. With a double click, Dane is treated to thousands of articles and pictures with names he recognizes.
"Gemma, look."
She swivels in the chair, sliding closer to him. Dane opens the main article that displays a bold headline below which are promotional stills of four very beautiful girls.
"Oh my..."
The Four
Also known as The Fearsome Four, The Royal Four of the Force
Title used to collectively reference four socialites and models for the Imperial fashion label Raga'Ana who's lives and deaths played a significant role in galactic events.
Karen Elizabeth Winton
(Born 13BBY Naboo/Died 7ABY Centerpoint Station)
Melanie Ann Masterton
(Born 13BBY Naboo/Died 7ABY Centerpoint Station)
Valerie Victoria Gellar
(Born 13BBY CSA/Died 6ABY Corellia)
Kimber Elise Patten
(Born 13BBY Corellia/Died 7ABY Centerpoint Station)
The article generalizes their rise to fame before breaking down into sections detailing the glamorous and tragic lives of each girl. At the bottom of the page, just above the sources used to site this information, there is a list of other topics.
See also:
Prophesy Persephonea
North Coruscant Senior High School
Raga'Ana
Event @ 500 Republica
Bolerathon Tower
Emperor Dementat
Phage Crisis
Battle @ Centerpoint Station
Kent Carlson
Bound by Blood
Vogue Empire
Dane and Gemma read through the passages with a rising dread that stems from a connection they somehow always knew was there. It was no secret they shared biological relations to both Melanie and Valerie. Their parents seldom spoke of them but kept tangible evidence around the Gellar Estate. The portrait of Valerie in Rutherford's study. Framed pictures of Melanie in Celeste's office. Neither Dane or Gemma had asked for details about them because they knew it was painful and made their parents very sad.
The other two names are not familiar to them at all.
"This makes no sense," Dane says. "If the monster called Riley the forth, that would mean we are all related to these girls."
"But we are."
"You and I? Yes. Dahlia and Riley? No. Dahlia isn't a Winton and Riley's last name is Tacofer, not Patten. Maybe it made a mistake. Maybe it thinks they are someone else."
"Why would it think that?"
"Because we were all together. There were four of us. Maybe it just assumed..."
Gemma clutches the bottom of the chair.
"Assumed what? It sounded pretty sure to me."
Dane sighs, tapping down the screen.
"It's impossible, Gem. Dahlia is our sister which means she is both a Gellar and a Masterton. The article says Patten was pregnant but they died on the station along with Winton, Masterton, the reporter, the Mandalorian and the Imperial Emperor. No one survived."
"That's dreadful."
"I know."
"How do they know everyone died if they all supposedly died together? If no one got off that station, how does anyone know what happened on it?"
Dane scans through more of the article.
"The reporter, Kent Carlson, sent his story to a contact in the Republic before he died. It says he was working on it since the Phage Crisis but never got anything good until he was saved by the Jedi Melanie Masterton on Tatooine."
"We have a Jedi half-sister? That's so neat!"
Dane smirks, "Guess that explains the Force stuff."
"Mom said it runs strong in our family."
"Wait.."
"What is it?"
Dane clicks on the article about Kent Carlson, skimming through his upbringing, life and early career and into his final months as a rogue reporter wanted by the Confederation High Commander.
"It says that after he was rescued by Melanie and taken back to Arbra, the Empire discovered the secret Republic base and chased them back to Corellia. He was detained on the High Commander's orbital platform with two Republic agents, Cirque and Denton, and a Republic Counselor Circe...Prescott."
Dane and Gemma turn to each other, a knowing look passing between them.
"That's Garron's sister."
He nods, reading on.
"With the threat of Imperial attack imminent, the Jedi Masterton relocated the team to Centerpoint Station to protect Kimber Patten, the Empire's primary target, but sent Circe Prescott back to the Republic as a fail-safe were the Confederation forces to falter. Carlson sent with her his nearly complete story to release if he were to perish in the battle. His final transmission was beamed shortly before the Station exploded. A year later, the Republic Counselor released the story in its entirety which spawned the documentary Bound by Blood and the holoplex feature, Vogue Empire."
"So, the Counselor told the reporters story after he died. Creepy."
"Very."
Dane clicks back to the main article and it redirects to the top of the page. The headline in bold above the faces staring out at them. They sit in silence for a while, digesting what they just read when Dane focuses on Valerie's stare and wonders what she was like. The article paints her in two very different lights. One of the wild and promiscuous party girl and the other, a governess and hero that united a sector against a grave danger. Either way, she must have been a hoot.
It is then he notices her dark green eyes and defined jaw line, features he shares. Gemma and Melanie look almost identical, courtesy of Celeste. The closer he focuses on the pictures, the more similarities he sees. Dane sits upright and enlarges the images so they fill the screen.
"What are you doing?"
Dane is staring at Karen Winton's face, the smile that borders on a sneer, the sparkling emerald eyes and fiery crimson hair. Based on how intensely he is staring at the picture, Gemma focuses on it as well and gasps.
"That...looks like Dahlia."
"Exactly like Dahlia."
They both glance over at Kimber Patten's adorable, smiling face. The round violet eyes and button nose - the same violet eyes and button nose Riley Tacofer has. Gemma grabs his arm tightly, rapidly coming to the same conclusions that simply cannot be. Dane temple's are throbbing as he tries to regulate his breath that is now coming out in pants. Gemma's dreams, the boy with no name, the monster's hiss.
The Forth.
"The monster thought we were them because...we are them."
-TBC
-
Dathomir
Sub-Surface: Shattered Ridge
The elders convene in the caves, chanting softly in the darkness beneath their tattered robes. The event their oracles had foreseen had come to pass. They had felt the explosive ripple from the third Winton Abomination, revealing her position on Chandaar like a powerful beacon. The intent was not to find her as they already knew where she was from the coverage in the media. The Voss-Ra needed a display of power that would bring the attention of others connected to the Force in the Empire, Hapan Consortium and Republic.
This tactic, however, is not one they can take sole credit for. From their contact with the Nightsisters, they were told that the former Dark Queen of Hapes had sent minions to Contruum to invoke such a reaction from the second Winton Abomination. This display had been catastrophic but none the less effective. It had establish her as a player and potential galactic threat, a reaction they pray repeats itself.
As brightly as the Abomination had shined, it had been extinguished just as quickly. They know it may not have been enough to pin down her location but more than enough to worry both the Jedi and the Sith. The wheels of thought would begin to turn, followed by the inevitable panic bred by the notion that a danger that had lied dormant for over a decade could now be on the precipice of reemerging.
The disruption of the third Winton Abomination's Force signature could only be caused by one thing - Gellar's vaccine. It had kept them all hidden for so many years and was a great source of contention among the Voss-Ra's disciples. They were ready to make a move.
Elder Bashir addresses the others.
"Perhaps it is time to take away from them the ability to hide in plain sight."
*
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
Rutherford Gellar paces across the living room. It feels so much more empty now that Celeste and the children are gone. Perhaps his wife had been right all along. Perhaps they never should have joined him here but it is not something he can dwell upon.
The door chime sounds and Garron Prescott joins him.
"You asked for me, sir?"
"Yes," Rutherford says. "Has there been on progress on the tasks I assigned?"
"There has, Lord Gellar. Dahlia's records have been updated accordingly and I have Janessa Kain working on concealing the photage in question. Doses of the vaccine will be administered daily by miss Miranda. May I asked how the Federation discussions are going?"
He sighs, "Slow but steady."
"That doesn't exactly sound reassuring."
"There's a problem. The Ambassador knows who Dahlia is."
Garron's face tightens, "How is that even possible, sir? The information is classified to only six individuals - you, me, Lady Masterton, Circe, Kylie and the children's primary physician."
"Mara Tacofer had a close personal relationship with both Valerie Gellar and Karen Winton. It seems, however unlikely, she was able to make this connection on sight alone."
"Dahlia does share a resemblance."
"More than shares," Rutherford says gravely. "They are damn near identical, the way Gemma mirrors Celeste and Dane mirrors Valerie. Genetics alone should allow for variations but it is almost as if the traits that made The Four who they were are the ones that were passed down through the bloodline. They are also the ones that will make them targets."
"Targets? You think the Federation Ambassador would try to exploit this? Use it to their advantage with the Senate?"
"No but she is hiding something."
"Such as?"
Rutherford crosses his arms.
"Mara Tacofer killed Alexander Winton and obtained his files, files that extensively document interactions and leverage against all those he dealt with. This includes me."
"What about Lady Masterton?"
"I assume she, along with Queen Greyson-Winton, Major Kyri Patten, Lilandra Patten and Henrick Masterton were all referenced in the material. The Ambassador admitted that these reports did not include the whereabouts of Celeste after she escaped Naboo. Either Winton didn't know where she went or chose not to pursue her."
"Do these reports also reference Dahlia?"
He shakes his head.
"Not that Tacofer revealed. I believe Celeste was correct in stating that the Queen was able to conceal the pregnancy from her husband while in exile on Naboo. Henrick and Celeste were only made aware of it when they arrived and the Queen was in labor."
"So, the Ambassador has no proof Dahlia is a Winton."
"Unclear but she did make a comment regarding a shared genetic link."
"She has a sample from Dahlia?"
"No, but she may have one from Karen. The files in her possession may actually include genetic markers on everyone involved, including one with an anomaly from Valerie. One she has never seen before."
Garron arches a brow, "Has it been verified?"
"The techs at ChemiX are running Valerie's sample now. Until the results are conclusive, we need to focus on the present. The Ambassador will never trust me but she has agreed to help uncover if Winton's plans linger in the shadows."
"You think that's possible after all this time?"
Rutherford focuses on Garron's face.
"If there is one thing I have learned over the years is that, dead or alive, Alexander Winton is never to be underestimated."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
Vex Sienna has been making headway.
His methods have allowed him insight into how the Direx Board works and what the motives of some of its members actually are. The bottom line reigns supreme, no surprises there. After all, this the Corporate Sector. Profits and public standing rank just above mergers and acquisitions. The members of the board are driven by the wealth they have amassed and fund lobbyists to ensure they can hold onto as much of it as they possibly can.
Greed is favored. Casualties are expected. Monopoly is the endgame.
It is not unlike the Empire which is why his presence has not been met with the hostility Vex had anticipated. The Emperor had purchasing power and Vex was simply there to broker the deals and oversee Imperial interests. He had joined Balthazar Nash at a private Palace Arms firing range to test some of the modified weaponry before the shipment left for Byss. Vex was more than impressed. The new IX-8 blaster rifle packed enough power to blow entire sections out of any would-be sentient enemy and completely destroy a droid in a single shot. The secondary version, the IX-9, more of a prototype really, utilized an acid based compound that could melt body armor and peel flesh down to the bone. He signed off on both over drinks that afternoon. Vex hoped the Emperor would be pleased by their tactical efficiency and lethal military application.
His contact with Kylie was mostly relegated to com-links and holoprojectors. He had been concerned by the warning from Burke Pallus regarding the Emperor's temperament after the murder of the Moff Council. Vex did not want to inadvertently place her in danger, especially when he had yet to formally introduce himself to Rutherford Gellar. Kylie, on the other hand, had been busy prepping for the return of Lady Celeste Masterton and the children who were set to begin the new term at school. She told him Lord Gellar had remained behind on Chandaar to continue negotiations. He suppressed his desire to pry for details as he knew this would seem suspicious.
During the last session with the Direx Board, Gellar's progress had been called out by several members. Some accused him of conspiring with the Trade Federation. To dispel these rumors, Iver Aguilar stated that he had spoken with Gellar and that there would be no way to retain Republic contracts without conceding to a Federation presence in the markets. Both factions had pasts to use against one another but such bickering would fall flat with the Senate, making them less receptive to future business opportunities. The clearest and most lucrative path was to deal carefully but Gellar had assured Aguilar that the Sector's interests were his top priority. This had been met with grumbling from some and disbelief from others. Vex was interested to see how Gellar would play it in the end, given the history revealed between them.
Surprisingly, D'Ken Dawning came out in favor of Gellar's assessment of the situation which visibly quelled some of the outrage. Vex knows that since Dawning had pushed for Gellar as the sole Sector representative, it would benefit him if Gellar succeeded.
The politics and personal grievances were most amusing to behold.
Vex returns to his apartment and opens a bottle of ale as he steps out onto the patio. The cityscape pulses with commerce and consumerism. It brings him back to the Coruscant days of his past where the rampant materialism and status seemed to be all that mattered. His life had shaped up pretty much the way he wanted it to, plus or minus a few details. In high school, he had been the star Chin-Bretier coupled with the grades to earn him a coveted spot in the Carida Academy after graduation. He had done well there and been assigned a significant and envious position aboard Emperor Dementat's flagship. A part of him thought this was due to his to past with the socialite-turned-Sith, Darth Kyja, who had personally requested it. Those who made it out of NCH during Alexia Winton's reign of terror and, on a larger scale, off of Coruscant before it was destroyed, had a bond thicker than blood. The other part came to believe the Emperor knew of their tryst and kept him close, despite it taking place before their relationship began. Either way, Vex held a deep respect for the fallen Emperor. Dementat was brilliant in so many ways. A visionary with plans for galactic domination on a scale the universe had never seen. He was proud to have been a part of it, regardless of how it ended so tragically at Centerpoint.
His only hope is that what Emperor Scrag has planned will fulfill the whispers of an Empire everlasting.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
Gemma finds herself in a clearing, staring out over the rubble of what was once a beautiful mansion. This is not her home but she moves toward it as if drawn by a force unknown to her. Insects sing in the distant foliage and a brilliant night sky the color of a bruise is dotted with millions of white stars. As she weaves carefully through the broken stone, she comes upon a figure sitting on half of a broken stone pillar.
Riley looks older now, hair longer and swept across his face. She realizes she is older now too, her golden curls much longer and spilling off her shoulders. His smile is lopsided, crinkling his button nose. She blushes, even in the darkness.
"Come," he says. "We haven't got much time."
Even though they cannot yet be seen, they both know they are out there.
He extends a hand and she takes it.
Together, they make their way to an opening in a tower of rubble where soft orange-yellow light emanates through the spaces between. Inside there is a circular stone staircase, narrow at first but that grows wider the farther they descend. Torches attached to the walls reveal the way. As they continue, Gemma notices the glyphs burnt into the pillars and walls, familiar somehow. They are almost to the bottom of the stairs which opens up into a vaulted room in the center of which sit four sarcophagus'. They are large and ornate, carved meticulously in different styles. Riley hesitates but Gemma is curious, stepping forward without letting go of his hand. Before her heel touches the floor, it begins to rotate and sink with a loud grinding sound echoing throughout the room. Another circular stone floor extends over the first and slams together with a thunderous roar. And on the floor, four symbols burn themselves into the stone. They are each different and spaced equally apart.
Riley and Gemma walks toward them. She kneels, running her fingers along the still warm grooves of the symbols.
"What are they?"
She recalls something, staring at them intensely.
"Ancient symbols. Ones that pre-date the written word."
Riley squints at them, frowning.
"What do they mean?"
Gemma pushes strands of hair behind her ear, touching the first.
"Destruction or fire."
She moves to the second.
"Light or to see. Seer, perhaps."
The third.
"Power or greed."
And finally, the forth.
"Balance, hope."
He smirks, "That's somewhat promising if not intentionally vague."
"They can be interpreted in different ways depending on which direction the symbols are facing. But these aren't in any particular order. They do not seem to form a coherent thought or sentence."
"Maybe they aren't meant to."
The earth above them rumbles. Gemma stands quickly, both of their eyes trained on the stairs.
"It doesn't matter," she says. "They are coming."
"They always come."
*
Gemma sits upright screaming, thrashing out of the covers and up against the upholstered headboard. Kylie Miranda is in the doorway in an instant, light on and rushing to the bed.
"Gem! Gemma, it's okay. It's alright. You are safe."
Gemma shutters, blinking rapidly. Kylie's face comes into focus. She burst into tears, throwing her arms around her shoulders. Kylie holds her tightly as she has so many times before. After several moments have passes, Gemma begins to settle down and Kylie eases her back under the covers.
"Sleep now, sweet Gem. It was just a dream."
"No," Gemma says, voice cracking. "It's not."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
The morning light brings a new sense of purpose.
Dahlia chooses a conservative outfit for her hearing before the disciplinary board at Valor Prep. She prepares herself for the schmooze-fest required to save her from expulsion. Celeste had coached her well and she realizes the importance of this hearing. Surprisingly, Dahlia loves the learning process. School has always been important to their family and she does well in almost every subject with the exception of a slight struggle with math. Number have never really been her thing unless its attached to a price tag...hanging on an outfit...in a store.
She meets Celeste at the bottom of the stairs and are quickly joined by Dane and Gemma. Kylie sees them out to their transport which takes them to Valor Prep. The ride is mostly silent and uncomfortable. Gemma tries to make eye contact with Dane but he stares listlessly through the window. Since their search turned up unexpected results, Dane has barely spoken to Gemma. Despite his initial assessment, he remains in denial that they are all connected to such a colorful past. He refuses to believe their parents would have kept something so important from them even though Gemma had made the argument about their age and a need for protection. Just because they haven't mentioned it yet doesn't necessarily mean they wouldn't discuss it with them at some point. Dahlia remains the point of contention between them. Dane cannot bring himself to believe their sister isn't actually their sister but a descendant of the Sith royals responsible for horror and destruction on a level they can barely fathom. Gemma can't blame him. She doesn't want to believe it either but she is clever enough to know it makes sense, given her dreams and the vast secrecy of their parents past lives.
There is a reason why she was introduced to Riley before she actually met him in person. The dreams were a warning that the monsters lurking in her mind are real and they have everything to do with the four of them. What she doesn't know is the exact nature of their involvement nor is it something she can really process on her own. She had tried to reach Riley multiple times all with the same result. His com was disconnected, sending waves of dread through her. Either he told the Ambassador or she pieced together the truth from the agents that responded.
Both Gemma and Dane have been very careful around Dahlia. A part of Gemma wishes to ask her about what happened in that corridor on Chandaar but she carries on as if nothing had happened. Dahlia isn't usually one to keep things to herself, especially if it upsets her which is why this is all so strange. Gemma thought by now she would have approached them about it and tried to figure out more about the monster and why it was there.
They arrive at Valor Prep with little fanfare. Celeste sends Dane and Gemma off to classes and escorts Dahlia to the administrative offices. Since they have different instructors, they separate without so much as a glance. Gemma begins to worry that Dane will crumble under the questions and go to their mother with the truth. She is not normally one to keep things like this from her parents. Lying was never looked upon favorably in their household and they shared a certain dynamic that made it easy to communicate with each other. She cherished this because most of her classmates had parents who barely spoke to them at all and others who were seldom even present. She pitied those children and the things they would miss out on which is why this is so difficult for her. She wants to be able to tell her mother and father about the monsters, about Riley and ask them questions about their Jedi half-sister and her famous fallen friends. She wants to but she cannot seem to find the words. She doesn't even know where to begin.
The most nagging detail, the one that has her in the most emotional turmoil is about Riley. If he really is the forth, as her dreams have told her and the monster confirmed, does he know who he is? All the reports they viewed state that while Kimber Patten was pregnant, neither made it out of Centerpoint. The pregnancy itself was a source of much speculation tied to a prophecy that astounds Gemma. Apparently, the child was viewed as a savior of sorts which is why Melanie was protecting it and the Empire wanted it dead. So while it appeared that the rest of The Four were by far more famous for other reasons, Kimber Patten and her unborn child were the most vital pieces of the prophecy. And if Riley is who she thinks he is, how did he escape Centerpoint?
If Kimber is his mother and the Ambassador is his aunt, that would make the Ambassador Kimber's sister. The articles said that Valerie Gellar was Kimber's half-sister but outside of that, there were no other siblings.
Gemma frets as she sits at her desk, trying to follow along with the lesson.
Either there were other unknown children of Patten or, even more frightening, Ambassafor Tacofer is not who she claims to be.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
It would seem the persuasive gene's run in the family. Celeste is unsure how, as she was not permitted in the actual hearing, but Dahlia had won over the entire board. The suspension has been lifted and she would return to Valor Prep the following day. While Celeste is pleased, she does not feel this is something to celebrate given the violent outburst that got Dahlia in this situation in the first place.
On the ride home, Dahlia checks her reflection in a small compact.
"That was easy."
"I do not appreciate such a cavalier attitude. You were very fortunate today."
"No," Dahlia says. "I was convincing. That's what matters most, isn't it? Saving face and maintaining reputations?"
Celeste narrows her gaze.
"Only if you wish to capitalize on the opportunities afforded to those who do."
"Is that the conventional Concordia wisdom?"
"Dahlia, you still have much to learn about the way life works but I can understand your sarcasm...to a point. It seems trite to you now but it is the tone we set as adolescents that paves the way to a successful adulthood. I do not expect you to think it's fair or even reasonable but those are the facts. Your father and I want the best for you and it would bring me considerable joy to see you at least attempt to make an effort."
Dahlia sighs, "I suppose you still want me to apologize to Trichelle."
"It would be the mature thing to do."
She settles back into the seat, trying not to pout. There is a part of her that knows her mother is right. The Concordia Township is built upon pretentious posturing and cleverly made matches. It's been that way for generations or so she had heard. The Gellar's were one of the most affluent families in Concordia and throughout the Corporate Sector. As such, she and her siblings were worth billions. A lot was riding on their reputation. Her father could be shrewd in business but her mother was beloved by all who knew her. She softened his image in a way that made him seem less abrasive, less hostile to the community. The intricacies amuse Dahlia but she will do as she is asked because, as much as she hate to admit it, it is the right thing to do.
At least on the surface.
Dahlia smiles deviously to herself, considering a way to use the information Muriel spilled about the social state of Valor Prep since the incident with Trichelle. You are so right, mother.
Capitalize on the opportunities indeed.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
The door chime echoes through Garron Prescott's suite. He finds Janessa Kain leaning precariously in the doorway, breezing past him into the living room. He taps the door closed and turns around.
"I take it you succeeded in your mission?"
She nods, opening her purse and handing him two data cards.
"The original station copy along with the prerequisite duplicate. The vid upload was permanently deleted from their network and the photage pulled from the news site. While it only aired once in the initial Holo broadcast, it has been available for viewing until this evening."
Garron frowns, "How many times was it viewed?"
"Accordingly to the tracker? Over three thousand plays," Janessa says. "However, the photage was not available for download so no one was able to make a copy of their own. The channels are quite strict about copyright to their material so at least we have that on our side."
"I appreciate your assistance."
She smiles slyly.
"It's the least I could do. After all, you were so hospitable and I can certainly understand that Lord Gellar would not want his children exploited in the press."
"You are too kind. May I ask that-"
"This be kept confidential? Consider it done. My sources are very discreet."
"Thank you."
"Is there anything else I can do for you?"
Garron grins.
"Not at the moment but if I think of anything, I'll let you know."
Janessa runs a finger down his chest as she passes, pausing at the door.
"I'm sure you will."
*
Rutherford Gellar pours himself a stiff drink as his beautiful wife's hologram appears above the projector on the table.
"My love."
Celeste smiles warmly.
"I miss you, darling. When are you coming home?"
"Not until the negotiations are complete, I'm afraid. The Ambassador is finalizing our presentation to the Senate."
"I don't trust her, Rutherford."
"Hardly surprising given that she doesn't trust us either. But she has information, Cel. Information that is vital to protecting our children and ourselves. Speaking of, how are they doing?"
"Dane and Gemma are very well."
"And Dahlia?"
Celeste sighs, "I'm afraid that's another story. A student approached her at school and made some unflattering comments regarding what happened with Valerie. The student went on to imply you would do the same to her."
"I would never!"
"I told her as much but that was after she assaulted the student and was subsequently suspended."
"Good girl."
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
Rutherford clears his throat, "Nothing, static in the holo. Is she alright?"
"She is now," Celeste says. "Apparently, she managed to convince the entire Valor Prep disciplinary board of her innocence and was reinstated. She'll be back in classes tomorrow."
"The entire board? I don't remember them ever reaching a unanimous decision in their history."
"They haven't."
"You find this suspicious?"
"Don't you?"
"It is unprecedented but I am unsure as to what you are getting at."
Celeste crosses her arms, "I'm concerned, Rutherford. This is not the first violent tendency in that particular bloodline There are patterns I do not wish to repeat."
"And you are worried she will turn into Karen?"
"It's Alexia's path I am more worried about. She was dangerous, unstable and completely unpredictable. Violence was always the answer with her. Many had attempted it but none could control her, not even the Emperor Dementat."
Rutherford nods, "I see your point but much of how both Alexia and Karen turned out was based on environment and circumstance. They were chided and manipulated into who they became by their treacherous father. Dahlia was raised in a completely different environment, one that is filled with love and support - two things the others lacked."
"You pose a question of nature over nurture. Environmental factors aside, they all share the same connection to the Force, one that is far more vast than most. She is capable of feats she does not yet realize."
"We've been careful," he says. "You taught her well."
Celeste's face crumbles.
"Not well enough. I'm no Jedi, Rutherford. I didn't have nearly the experience or control as Master Corrin but he left before he could teach them. I worry Dahlia is on the verge."
"On the verge of what?"
She hesitates.
"Cel?"
"I don't think she just fainted on Chandaar. I believe there is more to it than that. The last time she lost consciousness, she did so after using her abilities."
"You think she revealed herself here? Why would she do that?"
"Unclear," Celeste says. "Much the initial incidents for both Alexia and Karen were raw and unbridled displays of their powers. As you know, each display carries with it a signature unique to the Force user. This can be used to identify and track them."
"Not if she had the vaccine in her system."
"Dahlia wasn't taking it until we left Chandaar. If she did display, she may have appeared to others in the galaxy."
Rutherford touches his chin in thought.
"Only if someone was looking."
"Do you really want to take that chance?"
"No but once the vaccine dispersed, her signature would have vanished just as quickly. I suppose I was wrong to wean them off it in the first place."
"No," Celeste says sadly. "You did not want to believe there would still be those out there who wished to bring them harm. I certainly didn't want to believe it either but as far as this Mara Tacofer is concerned, we were all wrong."
"She can help us, Celeste."
"That has yet to be seen. She could still pull something before the Senate."
"Doubtful," Rutherford says. "The deal will be structured to benefit both Federation and Sector to ultimately secure valuable Republic contracts. If Winton's plans, even fringes of it, still exist somewhere in the galaxy, Mara would also be a target. She did, after all, murder him and in turn, do us all a favor. His allies would be furious and want revenge."
Celeste seems unconvinced.
"One of how many deaths? The speeder crash could have been faked but the reports from the Consortium indicating his execution were fairly convincing. Then he mysteriously appears a year or so later so that Mara can take him out? How many lives does one man have? How is it even possible?"
"I agree it's troubling."
"More than troubling, Rutherford. He murdered my husband and dearest friend and set up our children and their companions to perish so horribly. If he rose before, what's to say he will not do so again? I will not stand by and watch the malevolence of Alexander Winton come for our family again."
"I will never allow it, my love. Never."
"I want to believe you," she says, glancing down. "But there are forces more powerful than us, darling and that terrifies me."
"Fear not, dear Celeste. We will find a way."
Her blue eyes shimmer as she blows a kiss and the hologram disappears.
Rutherford finds himself clutching his empty glass too tightly. Her words have infected him, spinning dark thoughts across the corners of his mind. Dahlia's burgeoning powers coupled with the growing threat from the past cast a long and complex shadow across the evening. The most wrenching, perhaps, is Winton's ability to resurface throughout various points of time. He knows Winton was devious and clever but never to that extent. It defies explanation and reason and he wonders how he could pull it off and just how much of that had to do with the Gellar gene.
Once the gene was isolated, Dane and Gemma would be tested for it. He was unaware of it in Valerie, further amplifying the mistake in releasing her to Winton in the first place. This vital piece of Winton's game must never again fall into the wrong hands.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
The auditorium stage is dark save for the circle of light following Gemma to the center. The smooth mixed beats pour from the speakers as she begins to sing from an emotional well she does not fully grasp.
The song is its only escape.
"Traveling somewhere, could be anywhere. There's coldness in the air but I don't care. We drift deeper. Life goes on. We drift deeper...into the sound."
She raises her eyes to the blinding light as the music rolls on.
"Traveling somewhere, could be anywhere. There's a coldness in the air but I don't care. We drift deeper into the sound and life goes on. We drift deeper into the sound feeling strong. So bring it on. Bring it on."
She belts it out, voice solid and hypnotic.
"We drift deeper. Drift deeper. We drift deeper into the sound and life goes on. We drift deeper into the sound feeling strong. So bring it on. So bring it on. We drift deeper into the sound life goes on. We drift deeper into the sound feeling strong. So bring it on. Bring it on."
Tears sting her blue eyes, clutching a fist to her chest.
"Embrace me, surround me as the rush comes. Embrace me, surround me as the rush comes. Embrace me, surround me as the rush comes. As the rush comes. As the rush comes. As the rush comes..."
And from the corners of the room, her two best friends watch in quiet amazement. There has been a palpable tension since Gemma and Dane returned from the Republic capital. Alka Dawning was going to press for details, given her father's recent temperament but Preston Dyre advised against it. So they listen to her sing and are humbled by the gravity of her voice. They are all so young but perceptive beyond their numbered years.
Something troubles the lovely Gemma.
Alka had been watching the Holo closely since her friend was gone. Her parents were too preoccupied to notice. She had seen the photage outside the boutique, witnessed Gemma's surprise and fear at the presence of the camera's and questions, felt angry they had made her cry. The public announcement about Valerie Gellar is something that required backup and so she went to consult Preston about it. The name was one they had only heard in whispers about Gemma and Dane. They were related to a famous hero of Corellia, a former model turned politician and leader. These are not the things most schoolchildren discuss anywhere else besides Valor Prep. The students are groomed to be corporate titans and captains of industry and they often eavesdropped on their wealthy and spiteful parents for leverage against others. They were taught from the earliest ages that information equals power.
Alka was gravely concerned that this revelation would be used against Gemma and Dane when they returned to school. And it was, just not against them. It was aimed at the dreadful Dahlia who made a scene the whole school was talking about. Preston rationalized that it was better that way. Dahlia's actions would make everyone think twice about even mentioning it therefore sparing Gemma's feelings. Alka was worried what Dane would do. He was fiercely protective of Gemma. They were twins, after all. That kind of bond is normal, or so she had read. They shared a womb and some even say they could share feelings or thoughts. Alka thinks such things are preposterous as Dane is brash and outgoing and Gemma is timid and sensitive. They could not be more different from one another but there was something striking about them both. Something special they possessed that set them apart from everyone else.
As Gemma continues to sing, Alka glances to the left. Dane is standing in one of the doorways with Roman Nash. To the right, Dahlia stands with Muriel Monroe, Kier Kincaid and Tobias Harkan. They had all been drawn by her song. To this unlikely group, separated by class and social standing, Gemma is their siren.
Alka consider this as she rests her head on Preston's bony shoulder.
So, these are the players.
Gemma finishes strong, the last words echoing throughout the space.
"We drift deeper into the sound feeling strong. So bring it on."
-TBC
((OOC Note: Song by Motorcycle "As the Rush Comes." Throughout Gemma's storyline, the songs and lyrics she sings will be pulled from those IRL as they relate to certain situations and proper credit and copyright will always be provided. Her Force ability allows her to feel more strongly than most, feelings she cannot understand or convey through conversation - her voice is her gift, one at times that can be very telling. The song is a personal fav, check it out below.
http://youtu.be/cb61AVsxD34))
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
The students move aside as Dahlia strides through the hall, closing in on her target. Trichelle closes her locker and turns around, gasping.
Dahlia beams.
"Nice welt. Want to borrow my concealer?"
"You stay away from me."
"Or what? You'll run to the dean? Cry to your parents? None of it will save your reputation, Trichelle. Your reign of terror is over."
Trichelle's eyes widen, "How dare you speak to me in such a way!"
"Funny because you had no problem condescending to me. Only I shut you the hell up. You had no right to throw the things my father had done in my face. You don't know the whole story, just what you heard from the media. So before you go shooting your mouth off you may want to consider the people you could hurt if you do. Dis on me, that's fine. I can take it. But my brother and sister do not deserve to be treated like that. They did nothing to you."
Trichelle scoffs.
"Your father is making a lot of people very anxious. Those people all have children who go to this school. The more anxious they get, the more they take it out on those children. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"Those children take it out on other children. In this case, my siblings and I."
"Right."
"Cycle of abuse. How cliché."
"Yeah, well, don't hate the game."
"Then perhaps it is time we play a new one."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"Look at me," Dahlia says, bringing two fingers up in front of her eyes. "Look at my eyes."
Trichelle stares into the glowing emeralds that seem to grow brighter. Dahlia's voice drops several octaves, maintaining an even tone.
"There will be no retaliation. In fact, you will forget all about it and leave Dane and Gemma alone."
"No retaliation..."
She nods.
"That's right. The social ground you have lost you will willingly cede to me. I am now the one you all answer to."
"We answer to you."
"Yes," Dahlia says soothingly. "You do."
The weak minded are so easily manipulated. It had earned her victory over the Valor Prep disciplinary board. She targeted those she sensed doubt from through the Force, using her subtle ability to push them in the right direction. If she had not, she would have been expelled. She felt their feelings, heard their thoughts. They wanted to punish the daughter of Gellar for the same reason Trichelle had mentioned. They have a stake in Sector profits and Rutherford's negotiations with the Trade Federation may threaten that. She would not allow herself or her siblings to suffer for the sake of her father's business dealings. So, she reached deep into the teachings of her past. They were brief but poignant. Her mother had broached the subject of control in a negative sense, stating that these powers were only to be used for the greater good. In this instance Dahlia believes that is the case. Their powers gave them an advantage denied to most others. Moving objects with her mind was one thing but swaying opponents in their favor was quite another. The idea had come upon her in a dream where her reflection told her she held the power to make anyone do as she pleased.
Trichelle blinks, glancing around until she focuses on Dahlia's face.
"Dahlia?"
"Hello, Trichelle. Feeling alright?"
"I think so. Is there anything you would like me to do?"
Dahlia smiles, "As a matter of fact, there is."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D’ian System
The Gellar Estate is peaceful and silent as Kylie Miranda performs her last cursory inspection of the house before retiring to bed. Gemma slumbers soundly in her room, the soft pink glow of a swirling nightlight casting small sphere’s that move slowly across the far wall.
In her dream, Gemma is standing in meadow filled with tiny white flowers that sway in the gentle breeze. For the first time in as long as she can remember, she feels perfectly relaxed and stoops down to pick a flower. There is no dread or fear. She brings the flower to her nose, inhaling the sweet intoxicating scent while basking in the warmth of the sunlight. The sky is a brilliant blue that turns suddenly into a blinding white. She shields her eyes, backing away when she sees a dark form in the brightness. The light dims, returning the sky to a stark blue. There is a woman standing not far from her, wearing flowing white robes. Her long blond hair curls near the tips, blue eyes the same color as the sky. She smiles as she moves forward with arms outstretched. Gemma does not run but instead begins to recognize the woman as she nears. The pictures in her mother’s office scarcely do her justice as she kneels in the meadow, taking Gemma’s hands.
“Sweet Gemma,†she says. “Do you know who I am?â€
She nods, “You are my sister, the Jedi Melanie Masterton.â€
“Lovely and smart. Our mother taught you well.â€
“But how can that be? I thought you died many years ago. It made our mother very sad.â€
Melanie smiles warmly.
“I understand your confusion but do not be frightened. There are ways to impart knowledge to those you love when you are connected to the Force in the way that we are. Oh, how I so wish I could have met you, my darling sister but you must listen. We do not have much time.â€
Gemma kneels beside her, “What’s wrong?â€
“The boy you love is in grave danger.â€
Her heart is pounding now, only one name appearing in bold letters within her thoughts.
“Riley…â€
“Yes,†Melanie says. “You must warn him, Gemma. Then you must warn your brother. Those with the face of a fallen friend will come for you.â€
“What about my sister? What about Dahlia?â€
Melanie’s face changes, the smile disappearing. She brushes away the blond curls that have blown across Gemma’s eyes, softly caressing the side of her face.
“Be wary, sweet Gemma. She is not who you think she is.â€
“What does that-“
“All that matters now is that you warn the boy. Warn him, Gemma and you can save him.â€
Gemma nods, “Okay.â€
Melanie’s smile returns, “Tell our mother I understand now and that I forgive her.â€
“For what?â€
“She will know.â€
“There is so much I want to ask you…â€
“And you will but now it is time to wake up. Wake up, Gemma. Wake up.â€
Gemma sits upright in bed, breathing heavily. She shoves the covers aside and rushes to the consol on her desk. Picking up the com, she keys up the channel and listens to it ring.
*
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Hotel Ovallus
The com is bleeping in the living room, rousing him from the notes he was working on. There are a lot of specifics in the dealings with the Federation. Before they proceed, he wants to ensure there is no detail left uncovered, lest the Senate not believe either of them. It is only late-afternoon on Chandaar and he grabs the unit to answer it.
“Gellar here.â€
“Daddy!â€
“Gemma?†he asks, glancing down at the expensive chronometer on his wrist. “I think it’s past someone’s bed time.â€
“Daddy, listen! Riley’s in trouble!â€
This stops him cold for some reason. Her dreams had always been vivid and her imagination wild but the tone of her voice is frantic, almost pained.
“In trouble how, sweetie?â€
“They are coming for him. They will take him!â€
Rutherford frowns, “Who, Gemma? Who is coming for him?â€
“Those with the face of a fallen friend.â€
He sits back down at the table, trying to temper her level of panic with facts.
“Did you have a nightmare again? Where’s your mother? Or Kylie?â€
“Daddy, please! His com-link isn’t working. You have to warn him!â€
“Okay, okay, sweetie. Calm down. Who told you this?"
She hesitates then mumbles softly, "Melanie did."
Something unravels and he finds himself clutching the side of the table. He cannot explain where the feeling comes from but Gemma has never mentioned Melanie, let alone sited her as a source.
"I'll take care of it, sweetie."
“Promise?â€
“I promise.â€
She clicks off abruptly, something she has never done before. Rutherford sits there for a minute, completely puzzled before keying up the personal channel the Ambassador had given him before he left the Hotel Mermeia. After several rings, it hits her voicemail. He is about to hang up when he reconsiders.
“Ambassafor Tacofer, this is Rutherford Gellar. I know this is going to sound very strange but my daughter Gemma believes Riley in somehow in danger. She said - and I am not entirely clear on this - that those with the face of a fallen friend were coming for him. Does that mean anything to you? Please let me know when you receive this and if I can be of any assistance. Thank you.â€
He sets the com unit back on the charger and leans back into the chair, feeling unsettled.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
After school, Dahlia returns to the Gellar Estate. Dane is at practice and Gemma at rehearsal. The day had gone better than expected. Not only had Trichelle fallen victim to her manipulations through the Force but her entire clique as well. They took a bit of convincing but in the end, they crowded Dahlia their queen. Popular is putting it lightly. The social end-all, be-all is now Dahlia Gellar.
Muriel Monroe is her right hand. Kier Kincaid, the enforcer. Tobias Harkan serves as jester. Trichelle Corinthos, the humbled servant. Her clique, a virtual cadre of ladies and gentlemen in waiting, eager to appease the new queen, now belongs to her. Dahlia rather likes this new social order she has created for herself. After all, what good is power if you never use it? As she witnessed those around her bicker and conspire over the years, she shrugged it off as idiotic nonsense. She was happy with her lone friend and their imaginative life. Through her recent experiences, however, Dahlia has come to realize that inaction does not best serve her, her family or her friends. If the ultimate endgame of Valor Prep, the Concordia Township and, by a much larger extension, the Corporate Sector itself, is to rule then it was high time she got off the sidelines and into the game. Her mother had made many striking and valid points. Those who capitalize on opportunity are the ones who succeed. To do so, reputation and standing must be acquired and strictly controlled. Once she squared away the social obstacles, designated roles and aligned the troops, there needed to be a plan of action.
The first order of business was to issue a cease and desist to all references to father's dealings, both home and abroad, and extend protection from the upperclassmen to Dane and Gemma. Mention of the Gellar-Masterton affairs would be declared social suicide. Satisfied with herself, Dahlia finished off the day on a terrifying high note.
On her way through the house, she waves to Kylie who is busy organizing dinner, before heading up to her room. The silence is magnificent. She sets her purse on the vanity and smiles at herself in the giant mirror. Smugness looks good on her. She is quite stunned that her powers had such range. It conjures up questions as to what else she can do. Now she knows why her mother had been so cautious about it when teaching her the ways of the Force. More of an instructional overview really. The fundamentals. The telekinetic progress had been made entirely on her own through excruciating practice. She could barely nudge a piece of paper when she was little. Now she can levitate her entire bedroom set without even blinking. While that proved amusing and possibly advantageous in certain situations, feeling out and connecting to others through the Force was so much more thrilling. The things people thought seldom matched what they said and she could live with that as long as she had a way of skewing the odds in her favor. Thoughts could be overruled or erased. The prospects and temptation are not lost on her but she remembers what she was taught. There are two sides to everything. The dark and the light. Going too far in one direction or the other had consequences.
The flash is sudden, filling her vision with a blinding light as she gasps.
She stands before a hideous monster in an empty corridor. It taunts her, speaking of abominations and The Four. It knows her. Knows them. Gemma, Dane and Riley. It called him the forth. And she fights the monster in ways she did not know she was capable of, moving with the skill of a trained assassin, possessed by something much darker than fear.
Dahlia reels back, crashing into the closet doors. She coughs, trying to restore a breath she cannot seem to catch.
The monster turns to ash and she smiles faintly with eyes pooled in pure blackness.
She stumbles forward, crawling up onto her bed. Her heart is pounding beneath her chest. She pulls off her cardigan, brow lined with sweat. Her face is flushed a color that almost matches her hair.
Chandaar.
The arcade.
Dane and Riley playing games.
The monster that almost abducted Gemma.
A monster she stayed behind to destroy.
It all comes flooding back.
Dahlia turns, seeing her reflection has changed. The girl in the mirror has much shorter crimson hair, cut unevenly and hanging sharply across her left eye. She wears no cosmetics and a black jumpsuit with the Imperial wheel stamped in white above her breast. She is still beautiful despite obvious efforts to conceal it and wears a menacing sneer as she whispers harshly.
"It's what you don't know that matters the most."
With a light head, the room begins to spin and Dahlia collapses.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
Down the hall, as Gemma places a frantic call to their father on Chandaar, Dane Gellar slumbers in his bed with an arm draped over the side. The day had been long and practice was grueling. He had fallen asleep almost immediately after dinner, a dinner that Dahlia declined to join them for. She had claimed illness but Dane had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with the sudden shift in social politics at Valor Prep.
In his dreams, Dane is standing in the Gellar Estate, moving toward the beam of light emanating from beneath the door of his father's study. He hesitates at the door before slipping inside. Across the room, standing in front of the portrait of Valerie Gellar, is a dark haired woman.
"I was so beautiful, wasn't I?"
Dane takes a defensive stance, "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
The woman turns, revealing the face in the portrait. Dane's fists drop to his side.
"You...you can't be."
"What?" Valerie says. "Alive? Relax, kiddo. I'm not."
"Then how can you...?"
"Be here? In mind your mind? Tricky thing, the subconscious. Besides, my tragic and selfless death bought me a favor or two on the other side. I am bound to you as they are bound to the others. Think of me as sort of a sexy spiritual guide."
Dane cringes, "But we're related."
"True, your father is my grandfather. My mother was your half sister making me your half niece. Confused yet? Allow me to simply things for you, D. Our families, rather the families of The Four, will always be connected. And even though you don't want to believe it, deep down you know it's true."
"Connected how?"
Valerie pushes her dark hair over her shoulder and adjusts the ascot tied around her neck before focusing those intense olive colored eyes on him.
"You are still young but you will not be afforded the pleasure of the perpetual guessing game we all played for so much of our adolescence. It wasn't that fun anyway so you aren't really missing out. We didn't know how deep the ties between our families actually were until it was much too late. All that conspiring and cajoling only to be abandoned and left to our own dazzling devices. I never knew my mother or my grandfather even existed, never knew I had a real family waiting for me in the Corporate Sector the whole time."
She moves closer to him.
"You see, we were manipulated in ways I cannot even begin to explain."
"By who?"
"If I didn't know better, I would say Rutherford Gellar. He is, after all, the one who let me go. But as much as it pains me to admit it, he wasn't at fault. Not entirely anyway. It was Alexander Winton who blackmailed him. My father, my real father, was a Corellian Major named Kyri Patten."
Dane frowns, recalling the articles he and Gemma had read.
"Kimber's father."
"Yes," she says slyly. "My half sister. In order to fulfill some cockamamie prophecy, I had to be taken from the Gellar's and raised beside the Patten's. The Major got to have his cake and eat it too. The affair with my mother never touched his relationship with his wife, thanks to Winton's scheming. However, that came back to bite him in the ass much later. The moral of the story? When it comes to the Winton's, no one is safe."
"I thought the Winton's were dead."
"That's what your parents told you."
Dane nods, "It's true isn't it?"
"I suppose that depends on how you look at it."
"And how should I be looking at it?"
Valerie smirks, "You are clever, Dane. You are a Gellar. By now you realize you and your sister are very special. We were special too, you know. All four of us. Some were given more praises than others but, as it turned out, we all had critical roles to play. The sinner, the savior, the sacrifice and the leverage. Always four. Only four. The agony and the ecstasy of being part of the main cast. Don't fret, the series regular's and supporting cast didn't fare much better."
"Four..." Dane says, shaking his head. "Gemma has nightmares. Nightmares about monsters and a boy named Riley Tacofer who is called the forth."
"Tacofer, huh? I once knew a do-gooder by that name."
"His aunt, Mara, is the Federation Ambassador."
Valerie arches a brow.
"I'll bet she is."
"You sound like you don't believe me."
"You don't believe yourself. Come on, Dane. Your sisters pesky powers have pointed you in a much different direction."
He crosses his arms.
"Gemma thinks Riley could actually be Kimber Patten's son but that's impossible. They exploded on the Centerpoint Station."
"So did a lot of people, honey."
"There is no way they could have made it out."
"Who says they did?"
"So, just the baby? Someone would had to have taken him."
"Maker knows he couldn't fly himself out of there. Kind of makes you wonder, doesn't it? Who was the baby saving hero?"
"I don't know," Dane says. "You seem to be so smart, you tell me."
"You know much more than you think you do, Dane. If you are a Gellar, Gemma is a Masterton and Riley is a Patten, what's missing from that equation?"
Dane considers it, piecing together the information they had gathered.
"Winton. Winton is missing."
"Except it's not. We all have those that have taken our places. The legacy that lives on in others. If you want to prevent the past from repeating itself, you must arm yourselves with the knowledge that can keep you all safe. I tried to be the hero once, to save my sister by sacrificing myself."
Valerie steps back, pulling off the ascot to reveal a thick, dark bruise running like a band across her throat.
"But I didn't know the whole story and she perished anyway. We all did. You have the advantage here, to use what came before to spare everyone the horrors we faced. The things your sister sees are real. Heed those warnings. Trust in her intuition. Melanie knew as Gemma does. Not every monster appears as such on the surface."
"What do you mean?"
Valerie runs a hand slowly along her neck and up over her cheek.
"Beware the enemy with my face."
The study caves in on itself and Valerie disappears and he struggles against it, sitting upright to find Gemma tugging on his arm.
"Dane! Dane!"
"Wha? Gemma? What happened?"
"You were mumbling in your sleep," she says, worried. "Are you okay?"
Dane clutches the sheet, staring at his sister's frightened face.
"No," he says. "We are not okay."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
At Gemma's gentle urging, Dane confesses the interaction and warning from the late Valerie Gellar in his dream. It had felt so real and he is surprisingly able to retain and recall the verbal exchange to the letter. Most dreams fade once the person is awake but this clings to him like a heavy fog. He is understandably upset and it takes several minutes for him to get it all out. Gemma listens carefully before telling him about Melanie's nocturnal visit. Dane stares at her in disbelief, unable to make sense of what has happened.
"The warning," Gemma says.
"What about it?"
"A fallen friend. An enemy with a familiar face. Don't you see?"
"No, Gem. I don't.
"The the enemy will look like Valerie Gellar. She is the fallen friend. Those articles we read stated that she died almost two years before the others. She was the first of The Four to fall. I have to tell dad that's what he must look for."
Dane shakes his head, "But she's dead. They're all dead. How can you, Riley and I be in danger from someone who isn't even alive?"
"I don't know..."
"Valerie told me we were bound to each other. She to me as Melanie is to you. If what you believe about Riley is true then that means Kimber is bound to him."
Gemma swallows hard, "And Karen to Dahlia."
"No," he hisses. "She is not a Winton. There is no way."
"Are you sure?"
Always four. Only four.
She is not who you think she is.
Dane does not want to believe it because it would mean something he cannot yet understand. It would mean their parents had lied, that they were raising a daughter from one of the most dangerous families in galactic history. But he cannot deny certain things. Her face, the image of Karen on the screen, Valerie's playful evasion in his dream, Dahlia's natural ability to deceive.
"Not anymore. Not of anything."
Gemma is about to speak when Dahlia appears in the doorway. They both nearly jump out of their skins.
"What are you two doing awake?"
"Gemma had a nightmare," Dane says quickly.
Gemma nods.
Dahlia looks around suspiciously, "More monsters?"
"No," Gemma says. "Why?"
There is an excruciatingly long pause as Dahlia contemplates the best way to phrase what she needs to ask. The long and short of it is probably best.
"What happened on Chandaar?"
Dane and Gemma exchange glances.
"You don't remember?"
"No, not at first but now I'm starting to remember...things."
"What kinds of things?"
Dahlia moves closer to the bed hesitantly, trying to keep herself from freaking out.
"Something tried to take you and there was that creature...that monster in the corridor. The same monster you described from your nightmares. The charred flesh, those fangs. It called Riley the forth, the term you used for him before you knew his name. I told the three of you to leave and it spoke to me. It told me things...that we weren't safe...that it would never let us be the balance."
Dane and Gemma grip the covers up to their chins, as if they were listening to a ghost story. ?
"Then what did you do?"
On the verge of tears, Dahlia inhales sharply.
"Then I..."
She trails off, voice cracking.
"I think I killed it."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
The morning does not bring the kind of peace the children had hoped for. After their discussion, they had gone their separate ways uncertain of the next move. Kylie is bustling around early, getting them up and ready for school. In the kitchen, Celeste casually sips a glass of juice as she watches each of them carefully. There is an anxious vibe in the Gellar Estate today and she may know why.
Dahlia and Dane collect their supplies and head out to the transport but Celeste asks Gemma to stay behind.
"I received a message from your father on Chandaar. Care to fill me in?"
She blinks those wide blue eyes, feeling somewhat trapped.
"I had a dream and called daddy about it."
"So I hear," Celeste says, kneeling down in front of her. "You think Riley is in danger?"
She nods, "Yes. He is."
"How do you know?"
"Dad didn't tell you?"
"No," Celeste says. "He thought it would be better if you told me yourself."
She hesitates, face tightening.
"You know you can tell me anything, Gemma. I'm always here to listen and support you."
"I know but..."
"But what?"
"I don't want you to be sad."
Celeste touches the side of her face gently, a reassuring gesture.
"Why would I be sad? I'm worried about you."
"Because...Melanie is the one who warned me Riley is in danger. She came to me in my dream, in a meadow with pretty white flowers, and she told me she wished she could have met me. She told me people were coming for Riley and that I had to warn him and then warn Dane because they may come for us too. She said these people will have the face of a fallen friend and I think that friend is Valerie Gellar."
Celeste finds herself clutching Gemma's arm to support herself, blown away by this unexpected revelation.
"How do you know they will look like Valerie?"
Gemma grows very serious, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Because Valerie told him. Dane had a dream too."
Celeste's mouth drops open. It is shock not doubt that courses through her body. She knows how powerful the Force can be and it would not be completely implausible for Melanie to reach out to Gemma in one way or another but for Valerie to appear to Dane is something she can barely wrap her mind around. She pulls Gemma close, holding her tightly.
"Oh, darling. Is that all she told you?"
"No, she wanted me to tell you something too."
Celeste pulls back, staring intently into her daughters face.
"Melanie said she understands and forgives you. She said you would know what that means."
Celeste's eyes blur with tears she cannot contain.
"I'm so sorry, I knew it would make you sad."
"Not at all. You've made me very happy."
"I have?"
"Yes," Celeste says, taking Gemma's hands in her own. "I've lived a long time wondering about certain things Melanie knew. Things I was not able to tell her myself. Now those questions have been answered, thanks to you. Now, you have a good day at school. We can talk more about this later if you would like."
She kisses Gemma softly and sends her out through the door. Celeste watches her climb into the hoverlimo and smiles as it pulls away from the Estate and heads down the road. She moves through the house quickly and shuts the door to her office, falling into the chair as she stares at the picture of Melanie on her desk. In it, her firstborn is laughing at a lame joke Henrick had told. That was the last time they saw Melanie in person. It would be the last time they saw her alive. Celeste breaks down into tears, sobbing loudly into her hands. So many times she had asked herself if Melanie knew they were being kept away from them against their will. She had ached with the knowledge that Melanie had most likely felt abandoned much like her friends. And that was the point. Strip away everything until all they had left were each other. If they stayed together, they would survive. That's what Alexander Winton kept telling them even after they pleaded to return to the Core. They had believed him because after Alexia tore through North Coruscant High, they had survived but they had suffered greatly.
For years, Celeste twisted herself over the apologies she never made. The inaction and misplaced belief that cost them everything. But the forgiveness she thought she had no right to ask for had been given freely through Melanie's ghost and for that, Lady Celeste Masterton is eternally grateful.
*
Surface: Valor Prep
From the moment they step out of the limo, it is like an entirely new world. People wave and greet them as if their arrival has made their day complete. Some shout Dahlia's name at a fevered pitch as others clamor around her. Kier Kincaid steps in to usher the crowds away as Muriel Monroe and Tobias Harkan fall into step beside her followed by a handful of the most popular kids at school including Trichelle Corinthos and her cohorts. Dahlia gives Dane and Gemma a light squeeze before disappearing into her entourage.
They stand there completely mystified.
Alka Dawning, Preston Dyre and Roman Nash approach them, throwing glances back at the fading spectacle.
"What the heck was that about?"
"Beats me," Dane says.
Preston shakes his head, "People are acting very strange today."
"No kidding," Roman says. "That was insane. I thought Trichelle Corinthos hated your sister."
"Apparently not anymore."
Two upperclassmen appear seemingly out of nowhere.
"We're here to escort you to class."
Dane laughs, "We know where to go."
"But Dahlia has commanded it."
"She...what?"
"Dahlia commanded it so it will be done."
Alka arches a brow, "Since when do seniors take orders from someone in junior high?"
"Since she said we do. This way, please."
Speechless, Dane and Gemma follow while their friends watch on in confusion.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
On a day in between meetings and business deals, Vex Sienna makes a stop in the Concordia Township to have lunch with Kylie Miranda. Despite the ominous warnings from his colleague on Byss, Vex cannot deny the happiness Kylie brings him. Their relationship had deepened as the weeks passed and he cared less and less about infiltrating Gellar's world than he did about getting to know more about the amazing person Kylie is. It had been some time since he had any kind of meaningful relationship that did not involve Imperial affairs and although he did not want to place her in any danger, he could not resist seeing her.
Kylie is waiting for him at the Tables bistro, chatting with the hostess. She smiles when he appears, exchanging a knowing glance with the hostess before moving toward him. He kisses her softly, lingering slightly since it had been almost two weeks since they had been together. She is more traditional and prefers to take things slow, something he used to loathe in women but now seems rather endearing. She is a woman of principle and substance which, at times, made him wonder what she saw in him. He was, after all, the Imperial liaison to the Corporate Sector. These fact do not seem to bother her much and she strays from lines of questioning that would put him in an uncomfortable position. She knows enough to satisfy her curiosity and ease her apprehension. The Sector and Empire had always done business together. They had done business with almost everyone. Profit, not faction loyalty, is what matters most.
At their table, she orders a mineral water. He laughs.
"No cocktail this afternoon?"
She shakes her head, "Not today. I have to return to the Gellar Estate when the children come home from school. Then, it's homework, dinner and bed times."
He signals for an ale.
"Aren't they a bit old for a nanny?"
"Perhaps but I like to think of myself as more of a parental assistant. My duties are not strictly limited to the children but they do take up a fair amount of my time."
"I see. And I take it the Gellar-Masterton's aren't hands-on parents?"
"Quite the contrary," Kylie says. "They are the most involved parents of those I've seen in Concordia but they both have full time careers. Lord Gellar must travel and Lady Masterton has clients to see. That's where I come in. I've always been a part of their lives so the children regard me as more of a big sister than a person their parents employ."
"You are amazing," Vex says. "Have I told you that lately?"
"Yes but I never tire of hearing it. What have you been up to?"
"Oh, you know, business as usual. The Direx Board meetings are like an endless screaming match about bottom lines and Sector integrity. It puts a strain on the ears but I would be lying if I said it wasn't amusing to watch."
"And any luck on finding a residence to your liking?"
"Unfortunately not. My apartment in Mondder will have to do for now."
"It is a lovely place. You have impeccable taste..."
"For a guy?"
"For an Imperial," she says, grinning. "Although I must admit I'm not surprised. The Empire has always held a fondness for clean lines."
"I like things neat."
"I like you."
Vex holds eye contact, feeling flushed.
"I like you too."
They make small talk over lunch, catching up on the events of the past few weeks. Too soon, it is time to leave. He pays for the meal and she allows him to give her a ride on his speeder back to the Gellar Estate. The weather has become brisk and he would feel terrible if she had to walk. In front of the massive house, he kisses her again as they stand on the front steps. A black hoverlimo roars toward them and stops in front of the house. The driver exits and opens the door as a dark haired boy and a blond girl step out and wave demurely at Kylie. She smiles, returning the gesture.
"Your wards?"
She nods, "Two of them, anyway. Dane and Gemma."
The redhead steps out of the limo in almost a practiced manner, removing the large oval sunglasses while hefting a designer book bag over her shoulder. She throws a glance Kylie's way before checking out Vex.
"He's cute, miss Miranda. I'm impressed."
"Thank you, Dahlia. I'll be inside in a moment."
The girl nods and disappears into the house.
Suddenly, Vex is feeling very woozy. The face, framed in a way he remembers. Those emerald eyes glinting in the fading afternoon sunlight. Even the voice, so nuanced but without the Coruscanti accent. Memories flood back from the past.
Kylie turns, frowning.
"What's wrong? You're as white as a sheet."
He clears his throat, "Nothing, I'm fine. Maybe I should have skipped the ale this afternoon."
"Do you need some water? I could..."
"No, it's alright. I'll be okay. I really must be getting back now. As always, it was lovely to see you."
He kisses her again quickly before hopping back on his speeder and riding away. Kylie is worried but there are duties she must perform. She turns on her heels and strides up the steps and into the house.
In a window above the main patio, Lady Celeste Masterton watches the speeder vanish into the distance with grave concern.
*
Etti IV
Hours later, Vex returns to his apartment and moves steadily through the living room and into his bedroom. He opens a dresser drawer and pushes aside the undergarments to find the picture. He had taken it off his dresser when he began seeing Kylie. He did not want her to think he was carrying a torch for anyone. It had been extinguished by Kylie's charm.
Now, he had good reason to retrieve it.
The picture of Vex and Karen Winton on Imperial Beach seals something for him he was hoping could never be possible. He was hoping it was merely a coincidence or even a slight resemblance that triggered the reaction. Staring at the picture he knows that is not true. Karen and that girl, Dahlia, are nearly identical. He struggles to understand how that could even be possible.
Karen Winton only had one sibling, her sister Alexia. He had had the displeasure of being in her company for a year at the Carida Academy before she was pulled out of the program by the Emperor himself. That is not a year he cared to relive in any way, shape or form. Alexia Winton was an extremely dangerous sociopath who's Force rampages often critically injured or killed other students. A good friend of his from North Coruscant, Blake Tyderian, had been murdered in a training exercise involving Alexia. Commander Graves had reported it as an accident but Vex suspected something more. After Burke Pallus was injured in another training "accident," his informal investigation lead him to the conclusion that over ninety-eight percent of incidents that occurred that year involved Alexia Winton. With the safety of the cadets in his troop in mind, Vex reassigned Mod Navris, Elam Kennick, Yon Reverand, and Kel Morrison to another squadron until Alexia was removed from the Academy. He may have saved them in the short term but they would all meet their ends in one way or another attached to The Four.
A part of him wonders why he made it out alive when everyone else who crossed their paths perished in some horrific way. In fact, he not only survived but went on to have a successful career with the Imperial navy until he was offered this position without ever actually applying for it. The new Emperor had ordered him to oversee Imperial interests in the Corporate Sector and until now, he assumed that's all it was. Rutherford Gellar was just one of many names on a list who controlled companies that were of interest to the Empire. Granted, he shared a private school past with Valerie which could be used as an in to Gellar's favor and falling for Kylie Miranda was certainly unexpected but something more sinister casts a shadow over his current position. A shadow caused by a girl named Dahlia. The girl with Karen's face. Aside from Alexia, there were no other Winton's. Both Alexia and Karen are dead and have been for years.
Who is this girl and what the hell is she doing in the Corporate Sector?
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
Once dinner has been cleared and the children upstairs in bed, Kylie Miranda pours herself a half glass of wine. The kitchen has been spotlessly cleaned by the service droids and she admires the attention to detail. She turns around to find Celeste standing on the other side of the kitchen island.
"Lady Masterton," she says. "You startled me."
"I do apologize, Kylie. Are the children asleep?"
"Dane and Gemma should be drifting off about now. Dahlia needs to finish up some work on a project so I allowed a half hour longer to do so."
"That's good to hear."
"Is there anything else you need before I retire for the evening?"
Celeste nods, "There is something I would like to speak with you about."
"Of course, what can I help you with?"
"The man you brought here this afternoon. Who is he?"
"Someone I have been seeing. I promise it will not interfere with my duties, if that is what concerns you."
"What concerns me," Celeste says. "Is the fact that you would bring a representative of the Galactic Empire to our doorstep. You know what is at stake, what we have to hide, especially from them. The Empire used Alexia for their own sinister purposes and Karen died at the threshold of the throne. I promised Monica I would never let that happen to Dahlia."
Kylie sets down her glass, "I understand that and I would never do anything to put this family at risk. He is a businessman, someone who secures contracts and supplies."
"That is what he may want you to believe."
"I'm not following..."
Celeste narrows her gaze. She does not intend to be cruel as Kylie has long been considered part of their family but on this, there can be no tolerance.
"Follow me into the past for a moment. His name is Vex Sienna, former captain of the North Coruscant Crusader's Chin-Bret team. He was a class above my daughter and her friends and dated a young girl named Tenley Price who disappeared at their sixteenth birthday party. He was briefly linked to Karen Winton which explains his reaction this afternoon after seeing Dahlia."
Kylie's mouth falls open.
Celeste continues.
"I may be getting older but my memory has always been clear. I would recognize him anywhere, even after all these years, since his face appeared in almost every circulatory newsletter that was released from North Coruscant. I've been told he's made inquiries about potential contracts with ChemiX, most notably, the Force vaccine. Now, he may just be following orders but over the years I've become less of a believer in coincidence and more prone to accept things that are right in front of me."
Kylie is on the verge of tears, completely crushed.
"You think he was sent here, that he's using me to get to Dahlia?"
"No," Celeste says. "By the look of shock on his face I don't think he was at all prepared for that. And while he may not have known his true purpose, it would not be implausible that others may have positioned him to discover it."
"What will you have me do?"
"You will end it. Immediately. Tell him you know who he is, about his link to our family and that you feel it is a betrayal that he would use you and exploit his connection to Valerie in order to secure Imperial contracts with ChemiX. That's mixing business with pleasure and highly unprofessional. There will be no mention of Karen or her connection to Dahlia and any reference he makes will be thwarted. Is that clear, miss Miranda?"
Kylie swallows hard.
"As you wish, Lady Masterton."
As Kylie flees the kitchen, leaving Celeste to reflect in silence, Dahlia presses her back against the wall just around the corner. She had crept down for a glass of water but paused when she heard them talking. She had heard enough to know her suspicions were true. Enough to finally confront her mother about who she actually is. Could it really be true? Could she be the last Winton? Were these people, Rutherford and Celeste, not actually her parents at all but adoptive guardians to shield her from the fate of her sisters? The words of the monster on Chandaar now come into a frighteningly clarity.
"What abominations?"
"Those which your sisters created, of course. Such chaos and destruction. So many lives lost to their whims. Lives tied to the four names written upon the forehead of the beast and tied to a destiny from which there is no escape."
Dahlia clamps her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming and, pushing off from the wall, disappears back upstairs to her room.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
The school day drags on into the crisp late fall afternoon. They were on the cusp of winter and jackets were now required over their uniforms. Dahlia waves goodbye to Muriel, Kier and Tobias before sliding into the hoverlimo idling at the curb. With Dane at practice and Gemma at rehearsal, she would have plenty of time alone with the woman pretending to be her mother.
At the Gellar Estate, Kylie Miranda bundles up to meet Vex Sienna after placing an urgent call for him to return to D'ian. She passes the limo as she heads away from the property, focusing on the task at hand with a heavy heart.
Dahlia stalks up the front steps and enters the house, Celeste calling out to her from the sitting room. She changes direction and drops her book bag on the floor. Celeste stares at her curiously as Dahlia attempts to keep herself from unloading.
"We have to talk."
"Of course, darling. What is it?"
"I need you to be completely honest with me."
"Always."
"Always? Really? Somehow I don't think that's true."
Celeste rises from the couch, her face creased with concern.
"Dahlia, what's going on here? Why does it feel like you are accusing me of something?"
"I'm not yours, am I?"
"What are you talking about?"
Dahlia narrows those emerald eyes.
"You know exactly what I mean. I'm not yours, not biologically. I'm not a Masterton or a Gellar. I'm not even really a Greyson. Not entirely, anyway. You know as well as I do that I'm a Winton."
A cold rush of fear passes through Celeste as she is now confronted with the very conversation she had been dreading since she first arrived in the Sector with an infant that belonged to her best friend, Maker rest her soul. Her voice becomes shaky, uneven.
"Who told you that?"
"You did. Last night when you were talking to Kylie about her Imperial boyfriend."
"You were eavesdropping? I didn't feel you."
"Oh," Dahlia says. "Through the Force, you mean? That's because of that stupid vaccine we started taking again. It may shield us from others but you forget it does the same for you too. It works both ways!"
"I'm aware of what it does."
"I don't hear a denial anywhere in there."
Celeste's lip trembles, "And you won't. I can't."
"So...it's true?"
"Yes, it's true."
There is a tense moment of silence before Dahlia explodes.
"I cannot believe you! You always going on and on about the importance of honesty and family and this whole time you've been keeping this from me?! How could you?"
"Dahlia, please," Celeste pleads. "Let me explain!"
"Explain?! Explain what? The depths of your hypocrisy? Or maybe how I'm supposed to reconcile the fact that I'm part of a family that practically rampaged through the Core and left thousands dead in their wake? Did my real parents even know about me, did they even care that I was stolen from them?"
Celeste finds her resolve, drawing strength and calm from the Force.
"You weren't stolen. You were entrusted to me by your mother, Queen Monica Greyson. She was my dearest friend for many years and I made a promise to her that I would care for you and keep you safe."
"Why?" Dahlia says. "Why would she give me to you?"
Celeste swallows hard.
"Because your father was an evil man who used your biological sisters for terrible things. She hid her pregnancy from him and reached out to Rutherford and begged him to provide a secure environment for you after everything your father took from him."
"What did he take?"
"You know what he took. He took Valerie and as a result, Rutherford's first wife, Abra fell ill and died then his daughter, Blair, took her own life."
Dahlia's mouth falls open.
"I know this will not be easy for you to hear but you must understand that we had every intention of confiding this information to you when I felt you were old enough to understand. We wanted nothing more than to give you the kind of childhood that was denied to the others."
"Denied by my real father, Alexander Winton?"
"Yes."
"The same man you warned me never to speak of again. How many people knew about this? Does everybody know? Everyone but me?"
"No," Celeste says. "Your brother and sister do not know. Aside from Rutherford and I, only Kylie, Garron and the Jedi Master Corrin know the truth. You remember him, don't you? He brought me to the Sector safely and it was the vaccine that prevented us from being found. It's a very long, complicated story but I am more than willing to sit down with you and talk about it."
Her anger flares, "Only because I called you out. You would have been perfectly content keeping me in the dark if I didn't ask."
"Dahlia..."
"No, don't. Just don't. I need to be alone."
Dahlia pulls her coat tight and storms through the foyer and out of the front door, colliding with a woman coming up the steps. She reels back, looking up into the woman's face, one that is strikingly familiar. It takes her a moment to realize the face is that of Valerie Gellar, her adoptive father's dead granddaughter. Dahlia blinks, confused.
"What the...?"
The woman's arm sweeps through the air, expression blank, as she spins Dahlia around and clamps her arm up against her throat before hauling her off the steps and toward the hoverlimo. Dahlia gasps, struggling, thrashing out but Valerie is extremely powerful and lifts her as if she nothing more than a rag doll. Fear pulses through her now as Celeste steps out onto the landing, eyes focusing on the situation. Dahlia struggling, the face of the woman dragging her away, Gemma's words booming through her mind.
An enemy with Valerie's face.
"No...NO!! Dahlia!!!"
"Mom!!! MOOOOMMMMM!!!" Dahlia screams as she is hurled roughly against the side of the limo, head slamming into the door. She is dazed, vision bursting into colorful spots as she is shoved into the back of the limo. Dane and Gemma lay unconscious across the seats and a horrifying reality now presents itself. The door slams closed behind her.
Two security officers rush toward the woman who looks like Valerie. Without hesitation, she dispatches both who fall to the ground with heads twisted completely around. Celeste breaks into a sprint, shouting Dahlia's name. As she reaches the limo, the woman's hand clamps around her throat, lifting her off the ground. She brings Celeste close until their faces are inches apart.
"Did you really think they would be safe here with you?"
Celeste gasps, eyes wide with terror as she is thrown backward, tumbling across the driveway. The woman turns away and slides into the driver's seat. Tears blur the image of the limo speeding away as the com-link bleeps from her pocket. She fishes it out and manages to activate the device.
"Lady Masterton?"
"Yes...yes, I'm here..."
"This is the Headmaster at Valor Prep. I'm afraid we have a situation. The body of your driver was discovered just outside the school grounds and we have not been able to locate Dane or Gemma. We've already contacted the Espos who should be on their way to the Gellar Estate now."
Celeste is sobbing.
"Lady Masterton? Lady Masterton are you there?"
She cannot answer as memories of the past and the separation from the children overwhelm her every sense. She manages to click off and, with shaking hands, places a call.
"This is Kylie."
"Kylie," Celeste croaks. "Kylie, help me. The children...the children have been taken..."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
After dropping Dahlia at the Gellar Estate, the driver returns to Valor Prep to wait for Dane and Gemma. As he sits in the limo with his thoughts, a woman approaches the transport, leaning down into the window. She is strikingly beautiful and he smiles in anticipation of her asking something of him. She says nothing and with a movement faster than he can even register, she slams a blade into the side of his neck. He jerks in place, gagging on the blood gushing out of his open mouth. She withdraws the weapon and shoves him into the passenger seat before sliding into the limo.
Dane and Gemma appear within minutes, talking amongst their friends. They say their goodbyes and head over, climbing into the back without so much as a word. The safety of their routine made this easier than anyone thought possible. The clone eases the limo away and drives carefully through the school grounds but stops briefly once they have left. She dumps the driver's body out of the passenger door and pulls a blaster from her belt before tapping down the partition.
The children are alarmed at not seeing the person they thought would always be on the other side but it is Gemma who makes the connection first and begins to scream. It clicks for Dane seconds later as he lunges forward angrily.
The clone fires on him, the stun ray dropping him in his tracks. Gemma is struggling with trying to get the side door unlocked, completely freaking out. A second shot sends her reeling back before slumping over onto the seat. The forth is already in their possession. The second and third have been acquired. It is now time to returned to the Gellar Estate and retrieve the first.
*
Kylie Miranda raps on the door of Vex Sienna's hotel room. Once inside, she breezes past him, turns around and slaps him hard across the face. He is stunned, hand automatically touching his cheek.
"What was that for?"
"Did you actually think I wouldn't find out who were are? That you went to school with Valerie Gellar and her friends? What kind of fool do you think I am? It's obvious that you are just using me and those connections to get close to Rutherford and an Imperial contract with ChemiX!"
"Wait, what? How did you even know that?"
Kylie glares at him, "More importantly, why didn't you just tell me? Why go through the motions of wining and dining me?"
"Kylie, that's not what I'm doing..."
"Oh really? So you don't need a contract from ChemiX and you weren't going to schmooze your way into Rutherford's good graces by dazzling him with stories of how you and Valerie go way back?"
Vex would be offended if she was being off-base. He refuses to believe he had been that transparent. What may have started as a way into the Gellar-Masterton family became something else when he met Kylie.
"Part of my job is to secure contracts and any good buyer knows what talking points will make the client feel most at ease. You make it sound like I am conspiring against your employers or something which is most certainly not the case. Rutherford Gellar has been on Chandaar for months and I would never dare think of approaching Celeste Masterton about her husband's business so I made inquiries with the company directly."
She frowns deeply.
"And your connection to Valerie and Melanie had nothing to do with it?"
"Kylie, we went to high school together. We were friendly but we were not friends. Their group was more exclusive than any club on any planet. They had a social agreement between themselves and my then-girlfriend which I was not involved in. In fact, I took great care to avoid them since drama and violence seemed to follow them everywhere. So, yes, I knew them but not in the way you are thinking."
"Oh..."
"Yeah, oh," Vex says, grabbing his duffel bag and pulling out a framed picture. "But since we are on the topic, why don't you explain how the girl I met yesterday can look so much like her?"
Kylie finds herself staring at an image of Vex and Karen on a beach. She swallows but does her best not to react.
"They have red hair. Many people do."
"No, that's not it. They look identical. Do you know who that is?"
"No."
"It's Karen Winton, one of Valerie and Melanie's best friends. Some would even say the ringleader of that little group. I may not know the whole story but I know what I read. Karen's parents and Melanie's parents were friends. So tell me how everyone's parents except Melanie's mother wind up dead with a child who happens to be the spitting image of a Winton? If anyone is keeping secrets here, Kylie, it's your employers."
"You say that like you even know them!" she shouts.
"You are right, I don't! But I know enough to know something is very wrong here and what's worse is I think the Empire may have something to do with it."
"What do you mean?"
He takes her hands in his own, something she allows.
"I never came here to hurt you or your employer. I never thought I would fall for you and I have, Kylie but I have this feeling like I was sent here for something more than just contracts. When they offered me this position, I took it because things were growing tense on Byss. I needed a change but after I arrived and I discovered that I indeed had history with the Gellar-Masterton's, I started to wonder if that's why I had been asked in the first place."
"Have you reported it?"
He shakes his head, "No, my reports only include progress with the Direx Board and contractual obligations. I think they may have put me in this position so that I would come to these conclusions myself and feed them information....which is something I simply cannot do. Not to you, not the them."
Kylie squeezes his hands, "I must admit I am pleased to hear it."
"When I think about all the terrible things done to those families, to people I knew, people I grew up with, I could not live with myself if I continued to inflict pain on them after they have had time to heal."
"What are you saying?"
He is trembling in spite of himself.
"The Empire is moving in a dark direction, one I am not sure I can be a part of."
"Haven't they always moved in dark directions?"
"Moral ambiguity has long been a staple of the faction and I have participated in much of that to achieve certain goals but things have been different in the wake of the Centerpoint battle. It's been a long, strange road in the last ten years. Infighting and obscure objectives have made little headway in stopping the Republic expansion. Years ago, I would have cared but Schrag is no Dementat, that much is certain."
"Then why don't you leave?" Kylie says, brightening. "You could do well here on your own."
"You make it sound like I can escape them so easily, like I can just walk away."
"You can."
"No, I can't. It's more complicated than that."
"How so?"
"A contact on Byss warned me that deviations from my assignment would not be looked upon favorably. My safety and, by extension, yours depends on my performance. I have all the contracts I was sent here to get save for ChemiX."
"That is troubling..." she says, com bleeping from her purse. She fishes it out and clicks on.
"This is Kylie."
"Kylie.." Celeste croaks. "Kylie, help me. The children...the children have been taken..."
Her blood turns to ice, gripping Vex's arm tightly.
"What? Lady Masterton are you sure?"
"Yes...please...please find them...they are in our transport, the limo..."
"I'm on it."
Kylie clicks off and stares into Vex's face.
"What's wrong? What happened?"
"The children have been taken."
Vex's expression tightens, "How....?"
She is already running toward the door, "I don't know! They are in the limo and we can track them."
He rushes after her, "We can?"
"Yes! All our transports are outfitted with tracking devices."
She pulls a datapad from her purse and taps the screen, accessing the application that identifies their transports. The green dot represents the hoverlimo and it is currently moving, quickly, deeper into the countryside away from Concordia.
Vex grabs his blaster in one hand and Kylie's hand in the other.
"You don't have to do this..."
"Like I would let you go alone."
She nods and they sprint out of the hotel together.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Concordia Township
Dahlia is shoved into the limo, next to her unconscious siblings. A struggle ensues outside, and Dahlia tries to focus. Her head is still swimming, but she knows she can get out of this, all she has to do is repeat what she did on Chandaar - whatever that was - and the enemy coming after her would be gone.
Before she can respond though, her body freezes up as a pulse of electricity shoots through her nerves. She barely noticed the bluish light of the stun gun before everything goes dark.
***********
The hover limo zooms away from the residence, three prisoners, unconscious in tow. It manages to bypass traffic, heading out of the city toward some of the more remote areas of the region. The driver pulls out a comm unit, activating it.
"We are enroute"
The limo never stopped. it turned off the roadway, hovering over a field of grass as it continued. A rumbling overhead could be heard, a cargo ship lining up above the limo, and then inching ahead. The rear gangway opened, extending out and down, brushing the grass in front of the limo. The limo sped up, bumping only slightly as it left the grass, driving into the hold. Even as the cargo bay doors were closing, the ship was already gaining altitude. The driver of the limo stepped out, making her way to the rear door and opening it. Three children, unconscious, lay crumpled together in the back seat. The driver pulled out of her belt a syringe, unplugging it and lifting it before her eyes, pushing out air bubbles. pulling up the sleeve of the red-haired child, she brought down the syringe, pierced the flesh of her arm, and injected her with the contents.
Again, she lifted the comm
"The Winton child has been disabled. She will not be able to use her abilities"
"Excellent. Proceed to the coordinates"
The children were left in the limo, the doors locked and disabled, the ship holding the limo - and the children within - reaching the planet's orbit, escaping the gravity well, and disappearing into hyperspace.
TBC
-
Somewhere
Dahlia's mind is filled with a haze of colors and shapes, blurred and out of focus. She can hear the song Gemma sang in the distance, haunting now without music accompanying the words.
"We drift deeper. Drift deeper."
The shapes spiral and fade, becoming something else entirely. She finds herself lying on a polished tiled floor in what appears to be the living room of a posh apartment. The decor is minimalistic chic, lots of clean lines and abstract artwork. Dahlia pushes herself up, believing herself to be awake but when she stands up, staring through the wraparound windows at a cityscape seen now only in history class, she knows that is the furthest thing from the truth.
"Stunning, isn't it?"
Dahlia gasps, whirling around to find Karen Winton draped precariously on one of the grey couches. Her legs are crossed and a tight smirk pulling at the corners of her perfectly polished lips. Dahlia remains frozen, trying desperately to make sense of what is happening.
"What? No hug? Not very sisterly, if you ask me."
"What the hell is this?"
"It's the Winton residence in 500 Republica. Or at least it was until some crazy bitch blew it sky high along with the entire northern hemisphere of Coruscant. The Hapans are so theatrical sometimes but it did make quite the statement."
Dahlia rounds the other couch, stopping in front of the black coffee table.
"You're...Karen."
Karen mimics a gun with her fingers pointed at Dahlia.
"Good call. Maker knows I'm not Alexia given that I actually look presentable. I mean, really, would it have killed her to put on a decent outfit? A dab of lipstick or even mascara? Apparently, she didn't inherit our sense of style. Love the look, by the way. It's like, naughty school girl with a twist."
"It's my uniform. You know, for school."
"School, right. I remember that. Vaguely. I was pretty popular, debatably the most popular depending on who you asked. I see you are following suit although through impressively nefarious methods."
Dahlia shrugs, "I saw an opportunity and I took it."
"Looks like it worked. You are adored by the mindless masses. Congrats but check yourself, it's a long fall off that pedestal."
"How...are you even here?"
"Oh, don't give me that look like I'm the crazy one. It's your mind. I'm just popping by for a visit. We share a connection through the Force, a connection that is not severed by death. I'm as much a part of you as Alexia is. Has she reared her ugly head yet?"
Dahlia thinks back to the night she started to remember the attack on Chandaar, the face in the mirror, the jumpsuit with the Imperial insignia.
"Yes," she says. "I saw her in the mirror."
"A mirror? I'm not sure she knows what that is."
Dahlia smiles.
"She said something to me, something about the things I don't know are what matter the most."
Karen sits up, uncrossing her legs before standing.
"Yeah, she used to say cryptic shit to me all the time too. Figured out what it means yet? No worries if you haven't. It took me years."
"I think it means you are my sisters, that I'm a Winton."
Karen claps softly, rounding the table to face her. She is in heels which makes her four inches taller and moderately intimidating.
"The last Winton royal, in fact. Princess Dahlia Winton, heir apparent to all the insane bullshit that comes with our family like a gift with purchase. No returns or exchanges. So tell me, did you always know or was this recent development a bombshell?"
She shakes her head.
"I always knew I was different but I didn't know how. After I saw your picture, I knew it was too much to be a coincidence but I had no proof. Just a feeling. After the conversation I overheard, I knew those feelings were true. I cannot even begin to tell you how angry I am at my "parents.""
"The air quotes are a nice touch. Fitting. But before you get all huffy and self-indignant let me give you a rundown of your real family so you have some perspective. Our mother, the former Queen turned activist and host to prophecy vision, drowned herself in alcohol to numb the stifling duplicity of our father. This decision may have dulled the roar but it also slowed her ability to catch on to his scheme's much sooner than she did. Alexia, our frighteningly unstable elder sibling, was totes cray practically from birth. This instability was amplified by our father's manipulations which turned her into a Force possessed Imperial weapon of unspeakable power which she used to murder countless people including most of my clique as well as my first love. Then there's me, the spoiled but naive socialite who parlayed popularity into a galactic-wide modeling career and a proposal from a young Emperor. I became a Lady of the Sith known as Darth Kyja who was almost an Empress of all the Empire but sadly, it was not meant to be. Lastly, there's daddy dearest, the selfish and soulless bastard who used our mother's vision for his own personal gain. There are no words for how deep and dark that hole was or how much everyone involved suffered for it. Once the other parents began to realize what was happening, it was too late but he moved to strike anyway. He faked his own death, unleashed Alexia on us in the former capital and even managed to be resurrected after I let Kimber Patten and Rydan Stratford turn him over to the Consortium for execution."
Dahlia's lips part in horror, not wanting to hear more but unable to tell Karen to stop.
"Scared yet? You should be. Thankfully, our mother snapped out of it when she realized she was pregnant with you and hid it from our father while exiled on Naboo. That's right, he got sick of her threats to expose him and banished her as a prisoner under lock and key in her own estate. Somehow she managed to contact both the Jedi and Rutherford Gellar in the Corporate Sector. Our father had nearly destroyed Gellar after blackmailing his granddaughter away from him which made him only too happy to help our desperate mother. With his own family gone or dead, Rutherford agreed to conceal you from our father's malevolence with the Jedi on board to arrange your escape. However, Celeste Masterton realized the truth and fled to Naboo. Her husband, Henrick, stumbled upon information that painted our father as the true villain our mother always claimed him to be and he followed his wife. On Naboo, Henrick delivered you with Celeste and the Jedi standing by. It was a happy moment that would not last. Our father knew now that all three were liabilities and set out to destroy them before they could expose him. Our mother made a critical decision and Henrick injected you and Celeste with a prototype of the Force vaccine and sent you both away with the Jedi. That's when our father arrived to exact his revenge."
"Revenge...?"
Karen nods.
"He murdered our mother and doctor Masterton in cold blood. He would have done the same to Celeste and used you for Maker only knows what but even the most knowledge Sith could not find either of you. The vaccine kept you hidden from their prying eyes and you arrived safely in the Corporate Sector with Rutherford Gellar who, by the way, went to considerable lengths to protect you both. He and Celeste were able to give you the innocent and carefree childhoods my friends and I were denied by our father. So before you set out to condemn them for their lies, imagine the alternative. What could have been had Celeste not escaped with you. Imagine all they lost and what joy was restored to them by raising you, Dane and Gemma. They were both victims of our father's plot. We all were. The only difference is Rutherford and Celeste got to make things right by the three of you."
"I...I didn't know..."
"Now you do and it is those things that matter most. Information was the only luxury my friends and I were denied. We spent most of our very short yet fabulous lives in constant speculation and uncertainty. Questions, comments?"
Dahlia is leveled by the truth, unable to stand. She falls back onto the couch. Karen sits next to her, watching her closely.
"Why...didn't they tell me?"
"You're what? Thirteen?"
"Almost fourteen!"
"Whatever," Karen groans. "The point is, you are young and that's a lot of information to take in."
"You told me."
"That's because the situation has changed or have you forgotten the fact that you were just abducted? Hello! Let's try to keep up, shall we?"
"I remember," Dahlia says. "By someone who looks like...Valerie Gellar."
"I know, right? She's a bitch like that."
"But Valerie's dead."
"So am I."
"That was actually her?"
"Not entirely, no. She's a clone. A copy of a copy. And much the like the real Valerie, she always has an agenda."
Dahlia frowns, "What agenda?"
"How familiar are you with the Persephonea Prophecy?"
"Only what I heard about in the media. Well, and the movie."
"What a disaster."
"It made almost a billion in ticket sales."
"That's because it was based on us," Karen says. "Not because of the stellar performances. The prophecy, while a complex and interesting read, was complete garbage. The many translations our father gave to all the right people at all the right times was a part of the elaborate plot to cause certain...reactions. And we fell for it. We thought we were soooo damn special, parading around like it even mattered. The version most people are familiar with includes the ominous warning that of The Four, only one could survive - the one bearing some kind of child savior."
"Kimber Patten."
"Right. Everyone thought it was her. I prayed it was. She, of all of us, is the one who truly deserved to live. The loophole was that it was never her, it was her child. We were all fated to die in one way or another. And die we did."
"Didn't her baby die on Centerpoint with the rest of you?"
"That's what the worlds were meant to believe but that is simply not true. You should know, you met him."
"I have?"
"One, two, three....?"
"Four?" Dahlia says, suddenly livening. "The forth? Riley! Riley is the forth!"
"You know, you are much brighter than I expected. I'm very impressed. The real test will be see how you use this knowledge to your advantage. The clone already has Riley and now she has you, Dane and Gemma. Winton, Masterton, Gellar and Patten. The new Four to take our places. They believe you represent something, a galactic shift in a direction they do not want things to go. We took, you will give. They want to convince ? you to reconsider."
Karen turns to her fully, gripping both arms tightly.
"Now listen to me carefully, Dahlia. You have more power than you realize. While most Force sensitive's can only go so far, the potential for your abilities is practically limitless. Such is the blessing and the curse of our family. Alexia was consumed by her rage and subsequently, the dark side itself. It destroyed her. I came very close but it was the connections to the others, one in particular, that brought me back from the brink. She saved me from myself, freed us all from our father's evil and spared Kimber's child from death whom she has cared for ever since."
"The Ambassador?"
"Yes and she, like Rutherford and Celeste are beside themselves with worry. You are all connected to each other and it is these connections they wish to sever for their own purposes. They will lie in an attempt to divide and divided you will fall. You must be stronger than that."
Karen stands and moves toward the door.
"Wait!" Dahlia says, rising to follow her.
She pauses in the doorway, flashing the trademark Winton smirk.
"We're out of time but I have faith in you, sister. Be all that we could not."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
Vex and Kylie race through town on his speeder, whipped by the crisp air as they hurl into the surrounding woodlands outside of Concordia. Kylie is tracking the signal from the limo on her datapad but as they near a clearing, the signal disappears entirely.
"Stop," she says. "Vex, stop!"
He decelerates, coming to an idle. She leaps off the back and walks further into the clearing.
"Are we close?"
"We lost them. We lost the signal."
"Could they have disabled it?"
"Only if they knew where to look."
"Or if they were loaded onto a transport with proper jamming equipment."
Kylie's face shatters.
"No...we can't lose them. Vex, I just can't. They are like family to me and I..."
He goes to her, placing both hands on the sides of her face.
"We will find them."
She is touched but confused.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Maybe I have something to prove. A long time ago, there were people I could not save."
"And if it is the Empire that took them? What then?"
"It wasn't the Empire," Vex says.
"How do you know? You said yourself they warned you to stay on point."
"The Emperor needs supplies and, with the exception of ChemiX, he has gotten them. He understands how the Sector works, the finesse involved in wooing clients. He's not particularly fond of it but he understands it. Abducting the Gellar children would be counterproductive and risk losing items the Empire requires. All he wants is to take down the Republic, not mess with the steady stream of beneficial business relationships."
"Then who?"
"Rutherford Gellar has many enemies within the Direx Board. That much I do know. From what I have been hearing, patience with his negotiations with the Federation is wearing thin. They loathe that Gellar is even bothering with them and have become frustrated by the lack of results in the Republic Senate. They wanted those contracts secured months ago."
Kylie shutters, "You think someone would go after the children in order to speed things up?"
"Given the reputation of some of the board members, I wouldn't put it past them."
"Still, that's quite a gamble with potential to backfire."
"Not if the one behind it stood to lose everything in a deal with the Trade Federation. This place is filled with one hostile takeover after another, everyone clawing their way through each other to maintain position and profit. Desperation can drive a person to do unspeakable things."
She takes his hand.
"I should get back to the Estate. Lady Masterton is going to need support through this."
They board the speeder and roar back into Concordia. The Gellar Estate is surrounded by Espos transports. Kylie is a staple in the community and waves past the sentries at the door. She and Vex move through the foyer to find a deflated Celeste on the couch. Tears streak her face, blond curls slightly disheveled. The Espos are just finishing up and Kylie sadly relays their finding in tracking the hoverlimo. She agrees with Vex's speculation that whoever took the children may have made it to another transport, one that could take them off world. The Espos leave them alone to confer over the new information.
Kylie goes to Celeste, kneeling beside the couch.
"Lady Masterton, I am so sorry. We tried to stop them."
Celeste's eyes flicker up over Kylie's face then focus sternly on Vex. He is thrown back, lifted and slammed forcefully against the far wall. Kylie gasps, hand over her mouth in shock. Vex struggles but is held firmly in place.
"What the..?"
Celeste moves more quickly than either of them would have expected in her state, stalking slowly toward Vex.
"You think I did not learn a thing or two over the years, Imperial? That my once comforting life in Concordia had dulled my abilities?"
"Clearly not."
"Then tell me why you are here."
He fixes his gaze down, voice even in an attempt not to anger her further.
"I came to help you find your children."
"Lies," Celeste snarls, increasing the pressure around his throat until he begins to choke. "The Empire always had it out for us! They have interfered with our lives for the last time!"
Kylie cries out.
"Lady Masterton! Please, don't!"
Vex is gasping for air, clawing at the invisible hands that strangle him.
Celeste holds her ground.
"Your feelings for him blind you, miss Miranda and that is a pity. I did not expect you, of all people, to fall for their lines."
"It's not a line! He's telling the truth! The Empire has nothing to gain from taking them but we think someone on the Direx Board might!"
Celeste turns, releasing Vex who crumples to the ground coughing explosively. Kylie rushes to him, staring up at Celeste like she is a stranger and not someone who has employed and befriended her over the course of a decade. She had never seen her act out this way before nor did she know Lady Masterton was even capable of such displays of power. Grief and anger are powerful motivators and she is careful not to place blame. Celeste is going through hell right now and Kylie aims to be both sensitive and diplomatic but it is the Lady of the house that speaks first.
"The Direx Board doesn't have the technology to produce what I saw today - a thief made in the image of my husband's fallen family."
"What? What are you talking about?"
Celeste's blue eyes darken.
"The woman who took my children had the face of Valerie Gellar."
-TBC
-
Somewhere
"Good morning, Dahlia"
Dahlia's eyes would open, vision blury for a few moments as she tried to recall where she was and what had happened to her. Had she been talking to her dead sister?
She blinked away the blurs, only to realize that her head was pounding. When people were stunned, they seemed to collapse so easily - no one ever told her that it left you with a splitting headache, as if half your nerves were all fried. She turned her head around, trying to determine where she was, but there was little if any light. She reached up to rub her head, sitting up and taking assessment of her surroundings.
She was in a cell, small, with a small cot for bed. Outside of her cell, separated from her by the soft shimmer of a force field, was what appeared to be a very dark cave. Far across the cave, there was another cell, similar to her own, but with bright florescent lighting. Eyes widened as she saw three children there - Gemma, Dane - and the fourth, Riley, the ambassador's nephew.
"Gemma! Dane!"
"They cannot hear you, Dahlia"
It was then she remembered that she was not alone. Turning abruptly toward the voice, she spotted, sitting in the corner a woman, stunningly beautiful, exuding confidence and energy - and something darker. She had jet-black hair, save for a streak, bright red. Her eyes seemed to match her hair in this darkness - pools of blackness. Pouty red lips curved in a mocking smile contrasted with pale skin. She was dressed in a black leather bodice that tranformed into a flowing black skirt, and high black boots. At her waist, her belt had clasped to it the familiar metallic cylinder of a lightsaber.
"Who are you? Where am I!"
"Patience, Dahlia - all will be revealed to you in time"
Dahlia was not about to be patient. She rose from her bed, still achy from the abduction.
"You will release me and my siblings - NOW"
The woman merely smirked. "Oh will I? I think not"
Dahlia's muscles tensed. She knew how to deal with people who disagreed with her - but she suddenly found that her gift betrayed her. The woman rose from where she sat.
"Finding that things aren't working the way you want? It's because you are weak, Dahlia. Now sit DOWN"
As she said the word down, her hand came out - polished red nails pointing toward her, a streak of blue lightning emanating from their tips, hitting the teenager square on.
Dahlia had never felt such excruciating pain before. It radiated through her entire body, and she found herself collapsed on the ground. And just as quickly as it started, it had stopped, Dahlia still cringing, but glaring up at the woman.
"Do you hate me already, Dahlia? Good - hate will make you powerful. And if you want to leave here, you will need to be powerful. Powerful enough to kill me. That will win you your freedom"
The woman stepped over Dahlia's prone body, deactivating the force field and stepping through, before she turned back.
"As for the others. You needn't worry about them. THEY will be rescued by their family. But you have no family left. You are the last Winton, afterall. All you have is me"
The force field was reactivated, and the woman was gone.
TBC
-
Somewhere
Dahlia is furious - at her parents, herself and, most importantly, this strange and powerful woman who had taken her hostage. The one glaring detail that sends shivers through her aching body is the woman's eyes. The pools of darkness, the same pools she had seen in her own eyes when confronted with the monster on Chandaar. Clearly this woman had talents and training, things Dahlia lacked. She had her abilities but aside from the telekinetic aspects she had taught herself, she realized she had no idea how to control them. She had tried to unleash the hurt to get them all out of here but nothing worked. She was practically useless. The presence of the lightsaber worried her. It was a weapon she had only heard about in class, one used by the Jedi and the Sith. From the current situation and menacing threats, the woman was probably not a Jedi. She recalled what her sister had said about becoming a lady of the Sith, Darth Kyja and the warnings issued about the levels of power within their family.
Dahlia can barely move, muscles tightening as she shuffles to what can barely be called a cot. She crumples onto the slab, wincing. Is this is captivity, it sucks. What did she ever do to anyone? Well, other than manipulate an entire campus into believing she was the most popular person in the Sector. There's no harm in that...as far as she knows. And what the hell does that woman even know about the Gellar-Masterton's? Like they would just come save Dane and Gemma and leave her behind. She seriously underestimates how important she is. People will miss her.
She manages to drift off in an attempt to lessen the headache when another voice calls to her from the darkness.
"She's right you know."
Dahlia lifts her head, "I'm not in the mood."
A woman steps from the shadows, dressed in a black jumpsuit with the standard Imperial logo on the breast. Her face is one she recognizes.
"Alexia?"
"That's right, dear sister."
"Go away."
Alexia laughs.
"You don't think you can get rid of me that easily, do you? Even you aren't that stupid. Look at yourself, you're a mess. A disaster. Powerless and completely alone. It's pathetic."
"I'm not alone," Dahlia fires back. "My siblings are right over there."
Alexia turns, looking across the cave at the others talking amongst themselves.
"They aren't your family. I am."
"You are just as dead as the rest of them so you can save the speech. Karen already told me how much of a sociopathic nightmare you were."
"Keep in mind Karen thought all her problems could be solved with a short skirt and a pair of ankle boots. So, try taking things she says with a grain of salt. Besides, Karen can't help you."
"And you can? Give me a break."
Alexia moves across the cell.
"I can if you let me and if you consider taking what your captor said to heart. There is no escaping this place unless you triumph over her."
"She wants me to kill her. That's, like, crazy!"
"Is it beyond reason to utilize your strengths to obtain your freedom? Everything has a price, Dalia. You know what you can do, what you are capable of. You destroyed the monster and swayed an entire student body. All that anger you feel can be your savior, if you let. Hatred can help you survive. Sometimes it is the only thing that can. You can do anything you want if you give in to who you are."
"The last Winton."
"The only Winton," Alexia says slyly. "Never forget that."
Dahlia turns onto the side and curls up, the image of her eldest sister fading into the darkness of the cell. The next time the Sith woman returned to her, she would make a play for her freedom.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System
After Kylie helps Celeste upstairs to clean up, they return to the sitting room where Vex is waiting. Celeste pauses in the doorway, glaring at him.
"Look, I know how you must feel..."
"You know nothing," Celeste says tightly. "I may not be able to bring myself to kill you, Imperial, but do not mistake my mercy for trust."
"All I'm asking is that you give me a chance. I'm not here to hurt you or your family."
"That's what they always say."
Vex squares his shoulders, glancing quickly at Kylie's pained but sympathetic expression before focusing on Celeste.
"I read that story, you know. The one Kent Carlson wrote. I am in it, after all. You have to understand that most of what I read came as a complete surprise to me. I had no idea Alexander Winton was still alive. Like most people, I was under the impression he was killed on Bakura along with his wife. I was not aware he was somehow posing as Imperial Director and I sure as hell didn't report to him. If I had known, I would have gone to the Emperor Dementat."
"You think your ignorance will sway me? You really don't get it, do you? Just because you didn't know doesn't mean Dementat didn't."
"He didn't."
"How can you be so certain?"
Vex locks eyes with her.
"He never would have done that to Karen."
Celeste's face falls.
"He loved her and a long time ago, that killed me inside because I loved her too. But I respected their relationship, her choice, even though I believed it was the wrong one. Even though that choice resulted in her death and in his. Dementat knew the damage her family had caused her, what she had lost because of them. There is no way he would have allowed Alexander Winton to walk free and continue to threaten Karen's happiness or her life."
"Poor you," she says. "The jilted lover."
Kylie pleads softly.
"Lady Masterton, please. Hear him out."
"Why should I? He's an agent of evil and his lies have become his life."
"Lies? Kind of like the one you tell every single day?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Dahlia. You know damn well she is a Winton. That face is not one you can disguise with clever stories of adoption and deep down, you knew one day you would have to explain it."
"You shut your mouth, Imperial."
"I'm not here to judge. In fact, you should be commended. You spared that girls life. Clearly, she was hidden well considering there is no mention of her in the reports or the stories that followed. No mention of what become of you either. Everyone thought you were dead and, from what I read, that included Melanie. What would she have thought if she knew you were alive the whole time and stayed away to conceal a Winton?"
Celeste's eyes bulge.
"Vex," Kylie warns. "That's not fair."
"I apologize."
"Spare me the jibes. I've heard enough."
"I don't expect you to trust me but believe me when I tell you I want those children returned safely."
"Why?"
"Because I know what happened to the others. None of them had a fair chance at a life of their own. It was dictated and manipulated by others. I don't want that for them."
"How noble," Celeste says wearily. "But I do not buy it. You may have fooled Kylie but you will not fool me. The Empire wants nothing more than to capitalize where they can. They would use my children the same way they did the others."
"I don't blame you for believing that. It crossed my mind as well."
"You admit it?"
"No," Vex says. "I thought perhaps I was sent here for more than just contracts, that the Emperor somehow knew and wanted me to discover it myself. Then I realized he would gain nothing from it. The Corporate Sector is too valuable a resource to jeopardize by kidnapping the children of a Direx Board chair. This regime is more militant than it is theatrical. Schrag sees no value in melodramatics, especially when it puts supply at risk."
"Fair point but hardly convincing as a cover story. Risk has never stopped them in the past. But say I entertain your theory, who else would do this to us?"
"Someone who may not share your husband's lenience with the Trade Federation, someone who would stand to lose considerable profits from a deal that would cut them into the Republic trading pool."
Celeste shifts her weight, considering this.
"Like I said, I do not know anyone on the Direx Board with the technological resources to produce something that looks like Valerie Gellar. Such a product, whatever it is, would not be something widely distributed let alone highly profitable. No one creates anything unless they are sure there is a market for it."
"An assassin with a little plastic surgery might pose as Gellar to scare you and your husband into submitting to any demands."
"No one has made any demands! No ransom, nothing."
"It's only been a few hours. There is still time. If this is isolated to your children then there is a decent bet that whoever did this will ask for something in exchange for their return."
Celeste frowns, "And if it is not isolated?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Federation Ambassador my husband is negotiating with on Chandaar has a nephew that was also abducted."
Kylie gasps, "What? How do you know that?"
"I called Garron after I called you. Rutherford needed to know."
"What did he say?"
"That they would bring them back."
Vex raises a hand, "Wait, who's Garron?"
"Lord Gellar's valet and counsel."
"So, it is related to the Sector-Federation negotiations?"
"If the targets are the family of those involved then I'll admit it may be possible but I do not have time to worry about politics right now. My children are missing and you can do nothing to help us with that."
"I can try."
"I don't want you to try!" Celeste shouts. "I want you to leave. Now."
Vex sighs, nodding. He moves past Celeste and into the foyer before leaving the residence. Kylie stays by Celeste, reaching out but she stops her.
"Don't. I need to be alone."
Celeste escapes to the master suite upstairs, throwing the doors closed behind her. She does not believe for one microsecond an Imperial operative, regardless of position, would be willing to help them without an ulterior motive. The Empire always has an agenda, that much she knows for sure. Garron said he would relay the news to Rutherford, a relief since she did not feel like speaking to him. Empire, Sector, Federation, Republic - it doesn't matter. If any of them knew what she and Rutherford had been protecting all these years, they may all have reason to come after the children. The legacy of The Four may not be something the galaxy at large would tolerate for numerous reasons. She would not let them be exploited nor could she allow them to be exterminated.
Her head is light and she becomes dizzy. Celeste moves into the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet, withdrawing a bottle of the ChemiX painkiller, Capra. She needs peace in the wake of the emotional fallout and so she swallows two with water from the faucet and falls sobbing onto the bed.
-TBC
-
Somewhere
Dahlia was not awoken by a voice. Instead, it was by pain. Even as her eyes opened in shock, she could see the bluish tentacles still dancing over her body. She tried to scream, but the sound caught in her throat.
"Caught off guard it seems. funny, I thought that was your plan for me"
The lightning ceased, but Dahlia's body still ached. She was fuming before she realized what the woman had said, turning her head - agony - and again seeing the dark haired beauty with the red streak. The woman was standing with a cruel smirk, eyes cold and dark.
"How ... how did you know what I was planning?"
"Oh come now, Dahlia - how pathetic are you? you are so easy to read. Of course you're going to try to get your freedom, catch me off guard and get out of here"
By now, Dahlia managed to sit up, staring at the woman with mixed fascination and anger. She was the enemy, keeping her prisoner. But at the same time, she clearly had power, and there was something about that which Dahlia appreciated, maybe even wanted.
She thought back to her dream, what Alexia had told her - anger could be a tool, a weapon. She had the blood of Winton in her veins.
Dahlia stood, focusing her anger, thinking about how she hated this woman that imprisoned her. She could feel something, a tingling, that sensation she got when she focused her power - and then a moment later she found herself flat on her back.
"Was that really the best you can do, Dahlia? It almost seems unnecessary that the Gellars lied to you all these years - you are so pathetic, there's nothing you could have done. You shame the Winton name"
Dahlia had thought she was doing good - succeeding in focusing her abilities. But she was too slow, too
"Too weak ... yes, my dear. You are too weak"
Dahlia blinked up at the woman. It wasn't reading her expressions. The woman was reading her thoughts.
"How did you do that?"
"Because I know how to focus the anger, the hatred. I know how to turn it into true power. Alexia knew how to do that. Even Karen. Your father most of all. But you? i don't know if you have it in you. Alexander would find you such a disappointment of a daughter."
Dahlia was seething, standing again
"My father-"
But the woman flitted her hand, sending Dahlia back against the wall pinning her there.
"Not Rutherford. Not that coward. Alexander Winton is your real father. That's why Celeste and Rutherford fear you. They think that if you knew the truth, you could hurt them. THat you would be unstoppable. Alexander certainly thought you had the potential. But maybe just this one time, he was wrong. Because maybe growing up with those cowards has made you weak. Now, you'll be nothing"
"NO!"
Dahlia felt a surge of energy rippling through her, and suddenly, she was no longer pinned against the wall, wind spiraling about her and then surging forward toward the dark haired woman.
She watched the display, smile growing on her lips as a hand went out, blocking the burst and pushing it toward the wall, which rumbled at the impact.
The woman watched the remnants of the power as she turned back toward Dahlia, who looked dizzy as eyes began to drain their black color. She stepped up to Dahlia, lifting her hands - and Dahlia floated into the air until they were eye to eye.
"Good - maybe your hate CAN make you powerful. But you do not have the heart to sustain that hate. That is why you only have bursts. If you want real power, you need to train yourself to hate, constantly, thoroughly. You must let it fill your entire being. You must let your hatred become your tool. Then, you'll be strong enough to kill me. Until then, I get to have my fun with you"
The woman pushed Dahlia back onto her slab of a bed, reaching out with her fingers and firing her with another series of lightning bursts.
"Until next time, sweet dreams, Dahlia Winton"
Weak from her burst of energy, and wracked in new pain from the lightning and the abuse, Dahlia slipped back into unconsciousness
TBC
-
Somewhere
Dahlia floats in and out of consciousness. The pain she experiences is unlike any she had ever felt. Her life had been made easy until this point and she was pampered with the finest of everything. Now, in the cold, harsh, dim reality she knows that has come to an end. She had never known suffering but realizes that may become a frightening constant in this new and terrible place.
She curls up, pulling her knees tightly toward her chin in a fetal protective position as she tries to rationalize the words of the woman she has dubbed the bitch maniac. How dare she insult her like that? She was never formally trained and she believed she had done well with her powers to the best of her ability. Clearly this is not enough for the bitch maniac had batted down her attempt to rise up with a simple flick of the wrist. How had she been able to destroy the monster on Chandaar so ruthlessly yet somehow is not able to even hold her own against the bitch maniac? She had known of her plans to attack by reading her thoughts, something she had only be able to do in a fleeting and inconsistent way. Dahlia had read the feelings and intentions of the disciplinary board at Valor Prep and influenced them into ruling in her favor. At the time, she thought that was a marvelously clever trick. Now she sees it was only a slice in a much larger and more powerful pie.
The bitch maniac's words echo in her mind, merging with those of Alexia. She really was pathetic when it came to control of the Force. That stinging fact is not one she can easily escape. Had she done more to grow and hone her power, none of them would even be in this situation. She would have shredded the bitch maniac, freed Gemma, Dane and Riley and happily trotted off back into the arms of their loving guardians. Guardian. That word has now come to replace that of parent since it was confirmed she was never biologically related to Celeste or Rutherford. True, Celeste and her real mother had been the best of friends and it stands to reason, based on what Karen told her, that she and Celeste would both be dead had she not run. Fleeing for survival does not make one a coward. It makes them smart. Rutherford is a different story entirely. He did hand over Valerie and it only cost him everything he held dear. But that was orchestrated by her real father, Alexander Winton. How dare the bitch maniac say he would be disappointed in her. He doesn't even know her! Besides, from all the things she heard he's responsible for, Alexander doesn't exactly sound like a fitting role model for anyone. He sounds like a monster. He even turned Alexia into one. Karen was on the verge, pulled back by that Mara Tacofer woman. Funny how things connect the way they do, so many people tied to others. And the bitch maniac is right. She does not have the kind of hate in her heart to sustain that kind of power. Through the lies, she cannot bring herself to hate Celeste or Rutherford. After all, she grew up with everything anyone could ever ask for. She was cared for and loved. Only now do the things Garron Prescott said to her make sense.
Does it really matter that they aren't her real parents if they are the only parents she's ever known? And good ones, at that. Rutherford, the provider. Celeste, the protector and nurturer. She hasn't even heard them out but then again, she never expected to be abducted from her own front steps. Hate is not the only way. She remembers that very clearly from the things Celeste taught her about the Force. Hate is the way of the dark side and evil. The way of the Sith. Peace is the way of the Jedi who are just as powerful.
Unfortunately, she is not feeling very peaceful at the moment. She is angry at her own helplessness and that fury only builds the more she ponders the situation. Dahlia shivers on the slab, loathing the fact that she probably looks like a complete disaster. Her spacious bathroom, all those pretty clothes and array of designer make up back home. She growls lowly, determined not to die in her rumpled school uniform with bad hair. What she would do for a mirror right now. And a brush. She inhales deeply, stewing over the insults hurled at her by the bitch maniac in an attempt to make her react. These are the same tactics of social terrorism that, until recently, Trichelle Corinthos had lorded over the student body of Valor Prep to maintain her position. This would not be as smooth to manipulate, especially if the bitch maniac knows exactly what she is going to do. It's outrageously unfair on so many levels. Peace may be taking the high road but it sure as hell isn't going to get her out of this place. By now her friends back home know she's missing and she doesn't know what kind of side effects her mind games would have on them. Maybe just this once hate would have to do. It may be the only thing that will save them. But could she do it? Could she give in to the darkness if she knows where it could lead? Would someone be able to pull her back from the brink before it was too late or would she fall headlong into the abyss?
Dahlia's eyes snap open, pools of blackness blotting out the emerald shimmer, as a sly smile practically trademarked by her family begins to spread across her lips.
Only one way to find out.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
Surface: D'ian System: Valor Prep
Official statements issued from the Espos have confirmed that Dahlia, Dane and Gemma have been kidnapped which is carefully released by the Headmaster's office. This news sends shockwaves through the student body. Muriel falls into a state of despair while Tobias steps in to comfort her. Kier is furious there is not more they can do since most of the details surrounding the incident are kept confidential by the Espos. Dazed and frightened, the other students begin to go crazy, acting out in defiance of the rules, some bouncing between manic episodes and deep depressions without Dahlia their "leader" to guide them. The side effects of the Force manipulations run deep and the upperclassmen stage protests against the school for not doing more to protect the Gellar-Masterton's. As unrest begins to grow, some turn against Alka and Preston, as if they could have done more to save their friends since it was reported they were taken in the limo moments after talking with them. There is no way they could have known something was wrong and Roman moves swiftly to protect them from the backlash out of respect for his best friend Dane. While Alka takes this all in stride, it is Preston who buckles under the emotional pressure, forcing Roman to save him from the middle of a growing riot between Valor Prep security and the upperclassmen. The Espos arrive and gas the scene with Roman and Preston barely making it out unharmed. This encounter not only deepens their tentative friendship but produces an underlying sense of longing neither boy can understand. A clever Alka spies this change from afar but says nothing.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Gellar Estate
Kylie Miranda is working overtime to try and maintain normalcy within the household. Without the children around, the house is nearly drowning in silence. Classical music is piped lowly throughout the rooms as she helps Celeste get ready for the day. She seems to be doing better this morning but remains quiet which is not surprising given the circumstances.
As she fastens the necklace, Kylie glances at her in the mirror.
"There have been requests from the press outlets on Etti IV. They are wondering if you will issue a statement to the kidnappers, a public plea."
Celeste sighs, "No."
"Oh?"
"Such a tactic would go galaxy wide through the Holo. It would bring unnecessary attention to the children, especially Dahlia if her picture were to be splashed across the news. It's too great a risk."
"I understand," Kylie says. "Garron did sound positive when he mentioned the Jedi were called in to assist them. I do hope they are faring better on their end."
"The Jedi have a knack for staying out of the limelight. Smart, considering what it has cost those we care for most."
"You trust in their abilities?"
"More so than the Empire."
Kylie winces, "I'm so sorry about that."
"I know you are just trying to help but given my past with the Imperial machine, I am rather surprised you would be so willing to believe them. You are an intelligent and capable young woman, Kylie but emotions can cloud us from the truth. All I ask is that you be careful."
"I will."
The consol bleeps and Kylie moves to it, reading the text scrolling across the small screen.
"It's the door. A guest is here to see you."
"Who?"
Kylie pauses, confused.
"Iver Aguilar."
*
Celeste descends the steps carefully, slightly woozy from the high doses of Capra she ingested after breakfast. The painkiller is the only thing neutralizing the anguish, a rising tide kept at bay if only temporarily. She needs to focus on getting her children back and a part of that begins with engaging the Direx Executive Officer who has dropped by for a visit. She had only met Aguilar a handful of times through various functions and from what she remembered, he was a bracing and direct man with little time for frivolities which makes his presence here all the more curious.
"Your Leadership," Celeste says warmly, closing the distance between them. "It is an honor to see you again."
Iver nods.
"You as well, Lady Masterton but I regret that is under such a dire situation. You have our deepest sympathies during this time."
"I appreciate that and forgive my candor but may I ask what brings you here today?"
"Certainly," he says. "Is there somewhere we can speak privately?"
Celeste shows him into one of the sitting rooms.
"I've been in contact with the Director of the Espos in regards to the abduction of your children. He had concerns that someone on the board may be using them to influence negotiations with the Federation in the Republic Senate."
Celeste crosses her arms, "Do you share these concerns?"
"Initially, I would have dismissed them outright. Our tactics may be considered ruthless to some but have never crossed such lines before. We are not in the habit of using children to further our corporate agenda's but the Director did make some compelling points which is why I have come before you today to assure you that I am working in full compliance with the Espos to ascertain if there is indeed a connection. I have personally ordered all fifty-five members, myself included, to submit to their questioning."
"Then you admit there is merit to these claims. Someone may have motive."
Iver locks eyes with her.
"To be honest, the Trade Federation has thrown a wrench into our plans. We had hoped their past mistakes would be enough for the Republic to forgo any attempt at issuing permits within their borders."
"Everyone has a past, your Leadership."
"No doubt," he says. "I was disappointed to hear they had used Rutherford's unfortunate encounter with Alexander Winton against him in front of the Senate. That was unexpected, to say the least. Valerie Gellar is widely considered a hero both among the Corellian people as well as here in the Sector from which she came. She was instrumental in stopping the Phage crisis from becoming a galactic issue. The threats made against him and by extension the Sector forced him into negotiating which did not sit well with some of our members."
Celeste nods, "Understandably so. I do not trust them either but know that my husband is working hard to forge a deal that would be both lucrative and beneficial for the Sector to continue business with the expanding Republic."
"While I am pleased to hear it, I cannot say with absolutely certainty that someone within our ranks would not take drastic action if they felt they had something significant to lose. That is why I have taken the liberty to assess possible outcomes of the negotiations to speculate who might lose market shares to a Federation deal. Those individuals have been noted and their names released to the Director. I wanted you to know we are working diligently to uncover a connection and find your children."
"All while clearing the board of any wrongdoing, of course. A loose cannon like that could tarnish your reputation and decrease mobility within the markets."
Iver arches a brow.
"I see you know your politics."
"I pay attention," Celeste says sternly. "And I would like to believe the Direx Board is smart enough to know better than to resort to kidnapping the children of a member who's task of dealing with the Federation is a formidable one. Rutherford knows what he is doing but he cannot ensure your financial goals are met with our children missing. That kind of distraction may cause further damage for shareholders. I know that is not something anyone wants which is why I trust you will deal swiftly with anyone found to be involved."
"You have my word, Lady Masterton."
"Thank you, your Leadership. We will be in touch."
Celeste shows him out and finds a Kylie waiting patiently in the kitchen.
"I thought you said you didn't believe the Direx Board was involved in this."
"I don't."
"Then why...?"
Celeste's eyes are sharp and narrow.
"Because they and the Espos need to believe I do. The Direx Board will provide a public cover story while Rutherford, the Ambassador and the Jedi find out what is really going on. The media will be so consumed with corporate politics they will not have time to focus on the real implications of their disappearance. That buys us time."
-TBC
-
Somewhere
Dahlia was awake when she was visited next. And in her heightened state of hatred, tapped into the dark side of the force, she would feel a presence coming closer. At this point, she would not be able to discern the being approaching, but it became apparent right away, it was the dark-haired sith.
Dahlia braced herself, letting anger fill her thoughts, eyes pooled in blackness, watching, waiting for the force field to drop, hands clenched at her sides.
There she was, the woman on the other side, eyeing her with a curious tilt of her head. Any second, the force field would be down.
And then Dahlia would feel a strange sensation in her throat, like hands grasping around, closing in. She knew what it was - the woman was choking her. Dahlia's attention turned to block the assault, using that anger and indignation as if to pry her throat free of the vice grip of the woman. Her body began to shudder, but she felt it, the push and pull. She was struggling, but she felt like she was winning, slowly regaining the ability to breathe, a feeling of triumph coursing through her.
And then she was hit again by the lightning. It always seemed to come back to that. No matter what Dahlia did, she couldn't block that attack, and she never seemed to be able to strike hard enough back. Her anger gave way to pain as electricity shot through her body. No. NO! She had to fight it, had to hit back.
It was hard, no, impossible, but she turned her head toward the woman, who had now entered the cell. Dahlia didn't remember the force field coming down, but then again, she had been so focused on protecting her air passageways, and the pain. Oh the pain. She closed her eyes, feeling it, virtually paralyzed by it, opening her eyes and trying to focus on the woman.
The woman had two hands up, crooked fingers inflicting their force lightning. Dahlia pushed forward at her, using everything she had, every ounce of emotion she had into it. The woman flinched for a moment, then one hand swung upward in a defensive motion. The lightning stopped for a mere second before the hand pushed back, and Dahlia felt her own attack back on her as her body rolled into the wall.
"You use too much energy on one task. You planned an attack on me, but weren't prepared to defend against me. Then you turned all your energy on my one attack, and left yourself vulnerable to the countless other ways I could attack you. If I wanted you dead, your flimsy attempts would be laughable. As it is, you will never achieve greatness doing what you're doing. Besides, your hatred isn't pure"
Dahlia's body felt sore all over but she turned and spat
"I hate you"
"Not enough - and if you ever manage to kill me, what then? What power will you have then? There are others you should hate far more than me"
"Like who?"
"isn't it obvious? Your foster-family"
"they raised me"
"they are the reason you turned out so weak. They have kept you down. I don't need to tell you this. You know it's true. Think about it. You were destined for starlight - they've kept you out of the public eye."
"That was to protect me!"
Even as Dahlia said it, she was wondering if she really believed herself. She definitely resented her mother - she still considered Celeste her mother, after all - for not letting her model. Hadn't her birth sister, Karen done it? Become rich? successful? popular?
The woman smiled knowingly, Dahlia ashamed at herself. She had forgotten for a minute that the woman was able to read her thoughts.
"You know better than that, Dahlia Winton. Part of you already realizes that the so-called protection for you is also protection from you. the Gellars don't want you achieving the influence your true family achieved"
"Alexander Winton was a murderer"
"So are you"
Dahlia rose from her seat, indignation fueling her voice despite the lingering pain
"I've never-"
"No? How about that creature on the republic capital?"
"He was threatening my family"
"He could have been doing anything. But you killed him. It makes you a murderer"
"I was defending myself"
"You enjoyed it. Don't deny it. You may have thought you were defending yourself, but you LIKE having that power, that influence. Sometimes, it means killing. Sometimes, it means manipulating the thoughts of those who are weaker than you, like at school"
"I was -"
"yes, defending yourself there too. But you loved it. You love being the center of attention, the ruler of your class. And the Gellars hate that. Because it is a sign that you might become your father's daughter. And they are afraid that you will one day come after them, for what they did"
"What they did?"
"They took you away from your father"
"they had to!"
"And they are the reason you have no family"
"what are you talking about?"
Dahlia knew some of this, but Rutherford and Celeste didn't kill anyone in her family. did they? They had lied about so much, did they lie about this to? To protect her? Or to hide things from her, so she wouldn't know the truth?
The woman had moved to the side of the cell, waving out, across the black darkness beyond to the cell lit across the cave.
"You see them?"
Dahlia turned her attention to the three children there - Dane, Gemma, Riley.
"Yes"
"Dane and Gemma Gellar. Their sister was Melanie Masterton"
"Yes, I know that, but"
The woman turned her face back to Dahlia
"Melanie Masterton killed your sister Karen"
Dahlia blinked, looking up at the woman.
"She killed Karen? How ... why... when? That doesn't make any sense?"
The thought that Celeste had hidden that from her - that Celeste's own daughter had killed Dahlia's sister... it seemed almost too much to believe. And yet, Dahlia wondered if it was true.
"Oh, it was on Centerpoint Station, about ten years ago. Melanie believed Karen was an enemy. She waited until Karen was defenseless. Karen deactivated her weapon, to embrace Melanie - and then Melanie killed her in cold blood"
"No! That's not true! That's impossible! How could you even know that!?"
"I was there, Dahlia. I saw them. I saw Celeste's daughter kill your sister in cold blood. I also saw Riley's aunt kill Alexander. At least, she tried to"
"You couldn't have been on Centerpoint.... Nobody lived"
"Well as dramatic a statement as that is, FACTS are quite different. Thousands of people survived, who got off of Centerpoint before it imploded. Most were Corellians, soldiers who betrayed the Confederation and left before they suffered the fate destined for them. But there were others. I was one of them. I was witness to it all. And now, you know the truth."
Dahlia placed a hand down on the cold metal slab, trying to steady herself at this new information.
"Melanie Masterton ..."
"Celeste's daughter. Sister to Gemma and Dane. She killed your sister Karen. And Riley? his mother ordered the execution of Alexander, your father"
"I thought you said his aunt killed my fath- Alexander?"
"Alexander was brilliantly able to survive. He found a key to immortality. He could not be killed. He was killed by Kimber Patten, Riley's birth mother. and by the woman who calls herself Mara Tacofer, Riley's so-called aunt"
"Immortal? But then is he? still alive?"
The woman's smile slipped.
"No - Riley's aunt managed to prevent him from coming back. But you see? when you look across at those three children, remember, all three of them are loved, all three of them are protected. And by whom? The very people who left you an orphan, with no family. The last and only Winton. Their families will come for them, will save them from this place. But not you. Because your foster-family will be relieved when you are gone. You are too much of a Winton for them. And until you realize that, until you hate them for what they did. You will never defeat me, and you will never achieve the greatness that your father believed you were destined for."
Dahlia was speechless as she thought back through her life - at every word that Celeste or Rutherford, her so-called parents had spoken to her. How much of it was truth? How much was lies? How much had they held her back from what she could be? She could instantly think of a handful of times, but there were more - many, many times they prevented her from doing something she wanted, for reasons she never truly found adequate.
No - no, it wasn't true. They were human, yes, and had made mistakes, but they would save her, just like her brother and sister.
"You are wrong. They love me, and they will come for me"
"Soon, Dahlia Winton, you will be shown how wrong you are."
Dahlia rose from her seat, hating the woman more than ever. Why had she told her this? She was feeding her these lies (if they were lies) and poison ... no no NO. She could feel the hatred burning through her, eyes pooling to blackness again, fists clenched.
The woman watched her, the grin returning to her face.
"Celeste always loved you the least, because she never really loved you. Gemma is the gifted child. She's the favorite. You were just the adopted liability"
"NO!"
Dahlia's hands lashed out, her muscles quivering as the Force pushed out from her. the chair from the side of the room lifted off the ground and flew at the woman, hard and fast.
But again, the woman was in control, and the chair, instead of hitting her, began to circle around her, orbiting faster and faster and faster.
"Your outbursts are only mildly impressive, but not sustainable. Here is the truth. They will not save you, Dahlia. They will see me torturing you, and do nothing to stop it."
Dahlia was trying to regain control of the chair, but a moment later, it came rushing at her , pinning her down against the floor.
"Until next time, Dahlia, you can think about what I said"
Dahlia tried getting up, her body bruised and sore. But the chair seemed fused to the ground, pinning her in place, even as the woman walked away. It was a good several minutes before she was able to push it off of her.
And then she broke out in tears.
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Surface: Monroe Estate
The beautiful raven haired reporter stares through her wire rimmed glasses as she speaks from the station on Etti IV.
"Selene Silvestri coming to you live with breaking news. The Espos have confirmed all three Gellar-Masterton children were abducted on the quiet planet of D'ian, home to many of the Sector's most prominent families. The younger two, Gemma and Dane, were reportedly taken first after the suspect murdered the Gellar's driver and dumped the body outside Valor Preparatory Academy, the children's exclusive private school. The eldest, Dahlia, was taken in front of the Gellar Estate. Reports from the Espos Headquarters on Etti IV have speculated the children were then taken off world. As of this report, no ransom demands have been made but there are rumors surrounding the possible involvement of members on the Direx Board displeased with the ongoing negotiations between Sector interests and Trade Federation permits on the Republic capital of Chandaar. The Espos are investigating these leads but have yet to release any conclusive findings. Lord Rutherford Gellar, founder and CEO of ChemiX pharmaceuticals and his wife, Lady Celeste Masterton have both declined to comment at this time..."
Muriel clicks the holoprojector off and falls back onto the couch.
"This is terrible....what are we going to do?"
Tobias withdraws a vial from his jacket and dumps the contents in a glass of water which he hands Muriel. She accepts with trembling hands.
Kier paces back and forth behind them, "What can we do? No one seems to know anything! The school is practically a riot zone locked down by the Espos."
"Oh, it's a madhouse all right. Probably the most excitement Valor Prep has seen in years."
Muriel sips from the glass, too shaken to speak.
Kier frowns, "What did you give her?"
"A mild sedative, mostly used to combat anxiety. She needs it."
"Where did you get it?"
"Around."
"That sounds legit," Kier says sarcastically. "Do you really think it's wise to drug her when she's this upset?"
Tobias smiles, "Yes, I do. This whole ordeal has everyone worked into such a frenzy. People pointing fingers, throwing blame. It's tragic, certainly but no one could have prepared for it. We need to relax."
"No, what we need to do is find Dahlia and her siblings."
"And how do you propose we do that? The Espos don't even know who took them."
"Well, we can't just sit around waiting for something to happen."
"Look man, I know you have this thing for Dahlia and I get it. She's got that aloof appeal that drives guys like you insane but wigging the hell out isn't going to bring her back."
"I just don't understand. Why would someone on the Direx Board want to take them?"
Tobias motions toward the space where the images were just moments ago.
"You heard Selene. Not everyone is keen on cutting the Federation in on their profits. This is the Corporate Sector, Kier. Even the potential to lose market shares is enough to make people do crazy things. Someone probably just wants to send a message to Gellar so that Sector interests prevail."
Kier scoffs, "And just how do you know so much about Sector interests?"
"I watch the Holo. Not everyone has a sport to concentrate on."
Muriel sets the empty glass on the coffee table and sighs.
Kier continues to pace.
"If whoever took them is just trying to send a message, maybe that means they won't hurt them."
"If that's why they were really taken."
They both turn and look at her.
"You...think there could be another reason?"
Muriel nods, "You know who they are. Gellar, Masterton. Sound familiar?"
Kier and Tobias shrug, clueless.
Muriel slides off the couch and shuffles to one of the entertainment towers to the left side of the projector. She scans the cases of discs before pulling one off the shelf and handing it to Kier.
"This is why you should pay more attention in class."
Kier turns the case over, reading the bold letters etched in red.
Bound by Blood.
Below the title, the cover is broken into four sections, each with a girl's face framed in both a dramatic yet alluring expression. A name is printed below each picture.
Winton. Masterton. Gellar. Patten.
"What the....? What is this?"
"It's a documentary."
"Let me see," Tobias says.
Kier hands him the case. Tobias looks over it carefully, both brows shooting up in surprise.
"When did this come out?"
"Ten years ago," Muriel says, pulling another case from the shelf. "It was turned into a cineplex feature called Vogue Empire which my mother had a supporting role in."
"Really? Awesome. Who did she play?"
"Celeste Masterton."
Kier and Tobias visibly straighten up.
"Wait a minute," Tobias says, bringing the case closer to his face. "This girl, the redhead. That looks like Dahlia. And the blonde looks like Gemma."
"Yeah, yeah and the dark haired one like Dane. You boys are so slow."
"What? What are you saying? These girls are related to them?"
Kier pushes him aside and takes the case.
"Of course that's what she's saying, dummy but....how?"
Muriel takes the documentary and puts the disc in the projector.
"You really want to know? Watch."
-TBC
-
Somewhere
Dahlia continues to sob, curling up on the slab as her muscles throb. She is in physical agony as well as emotional. The bitch maniac had done more damage than she realized and still, Dahlia's mind resists. She pull her knees close, whispering.
"Karen...why didn't you tell me?"
She hates this place and wants nothing more than to escape. As she wipes her eyes, she can see Gemma, Dane and Riley standing together in their own cell. They seem so far away and although they may not be biological family, they are most certainly connected. She knows they cannot see her. They probably don't even know she's here. She imagines they are frightened but they do not appear harmed, even from such a distance. Relief is muddled by jealousy as she allows herself to consider the possibility of everything the bitch maniac said. Could it be true? Her "parents" had clearly been keeping secrets but through all of them, they never seemed scared of her. They had never been inattentive or cold. Even if she is the last Winton, they raised her as their own. She never knew Melanie and if she killed Karen, how would Celeste even know? She was already in the Corporate Sector long before the Centerpoint battle raising her, Gemma and Dane. Even that stupid Corellian reporters story doesn't cover those kinds of details and he was on the station before it imploded. If he didn't know, how could Celeste? Or even Rutherford for that matter? The bitch maniac is trying to turn her against them, to bring her hatred into the forefront. Right now, the only person she hates is her captor. Why would she believe someone who helped abduct them? Even with the secrets, the deck is still stacked in favor of the Gellar-Masterton's.
Dahlia begins to drift, the exhaustion and pain pulling her under.
-TBC
-
Somewhere
Her eyes were closed as she moved in a rhythmic motion over the body of the male beneath her. He may have been in bliss, his greatest wish may have been to bed her. But for her, he was just a body, and with her eyes closed, she could imagine that he was someone else. Someone she missed dearly, who was stolen from her. He had been brilliant in bed. The man beneath her was just ... sufficient. Barely.
********
She stood naked in the chamber, looking at herself in the mirror, inspecting the red streak that differed from her otherwise black hair. The male stirred in the bed nearby, and his voice called out to her.
"Who's Alexander?"
She turned to face him a cold expression on her face.
"Excuse me?"
"You ... kept calling me Alexander ... you kept saying his name. Who is he?"
"A man far more satisfying than you"
The male offered what he apparently felt was a sexy smile
"Oh, come on, you seemed to enjoy yourself. I know I did. And I know I'd like to do that again"
"Sorry dear. This was a one time deal"
The male was about to say something else, when suddenly his eyes went wide, his hands moving to his throat as he began to gasp for air. Wheezing grew more and more labored as face turned from pathetic pale to red to blue to purple, until finally, he collapsed in a heap among the sheets.
"If you were him, you wouldn't need air. You wouldn't die. Not like that"
But of course, he had died - he had been defeated, though unlike the weakling corpse before her, he had not only put up a fight, but had taken down whole armies before falling to the enemy. She could feel the hate coursing through her, fueling her, strengthening her. How dare they take him away. But she would avenge him. And best of all, she would do it through his own flesh and blood, his own daughter. She would be the culmination of all his work, the enemy they prevented him from becoming, the master of this whole pathetic galaxy of weaklings. And Adubell would be the tool that transformed young Dahlia into that awesome being.
********
Black leather bodice and a flowing black skirt, high black boots, a flowing black cape, and belt clasped with lightsaber. She marched confidently into the hangar, where the creatures stood about, waiting for her command. Them and one other, a woman look alike of one of the four - as well as one who defeated Alexander. But this one would not help the enemy. In fact, the matching appearance would serve as another useful tool in the downfall of her enemies - of Alexander's enemies.
"Infiltrator, The time has come. reactivate the homing beacon. And make sure our humble home is ready for guests"
-
Somewhere
As if the news of the truth wasn't enough, Dahlia was provided with visuals. when the sith woman reappeared in her cell, Dahlia found herself pinned against the back wall, unable to move. And the more she tried, the more she tried channeling the force, the stronger the hold seemed to be.
The woman smiled cruelly.
"Now now, Dahlia - you really must stop squirming, or you won't be able to watch the movie"
Dahlia continued to struggle, even as she watched. The light fixture in the top of the cell slid sideways and a small projector descended.
The projection lens faced the wall opposite Dahlia, and soon bathed the cold durasteel in a bluish-gray light. Then came the images.
It was no movie. It was a security video. Almost instantly, Dahlia would be able to guess what was going on. Chaos of a battle. Imperial white and black, corellian blue, and a variety of different battle droids. This was Centerpoint. Then she saw it, the flash of pink, and there was her sister, Karen, descending into the hangar. There was no sound, but Dahlia could imagine what it was like. Karen surveyed the scene, then turned her head abruptly, as if someone had called her name. Karen looks like she is trying to talk to someone, her saber lowered in a disarming position.
And then there was the other one, appearing in the view, blonde hair and jedi robe. Melanie. striking hard and Karen putting up her weapon in defense.
Dahlia didn't want to watch, knowing how it would end, but she couldn't look away. Melanie had struck at Karen first. The jedi had attacked, and the sith was defending. The battle around them seemed to fade away as Melanie and Karen blocked, parried, struck at each other in an intricate dance.
"Notice that Karen never tried to kill Melanie. Karen still thinks Melanie is a friend. Her mistake"
Dahlia is about to respond when she sees Karen lower and deactivate her weapon. Dahlia is shaking her head, whispering to the sister she never met, the past that could not be changed.
"No ... No, Karen, don't do it ... she'll kill you"
She watches as they talk and Melanie lowers her weapon, approaching Karen. Karen smiles and runs as if to embrace Melanie and Melanie brings her saber up suddenly, piercing it through Karen, the blue light visible through her back. Karen's body freezes with betrayal and disbelief before she collapses to the ground.
Dahlia is crying as the video stops there. She knows Melanie dies, but doesn't care how. Not at the moment. Melanie hadn't just killed Karen, she had betrayed her.
The woman though seems unflinching.
"I'm not sure if you got the lesson the first time around. Let's watch it again"
Dahlia is pleading as the video loops from Karen's arrival to her demise twice more. On the fourth time though, her tears are suddenly drowned out by something else, A dark feeling. Hatred toward Melanie, hatred toward this dark woman. She is shaking as her eyes pool into blackness - and then she is free from the hold held on her. The projector overhead fizzles with sparks and deactivates as the metal is crushed, then pulled from its socket and hurled at the woman.
The woman responds by pulling out her weapon and slicing the metal before it strikes her, then turning the crimson blade on Dahlia, who was in the process of rushing her.
The blade halts her momentum, and she takes a step back, the surety she felt moments before disappearing before the dangerous blade.
"Very good, Dahlia. You've learned an important lesson today. Your hate can make you powerful. now, you'd better get some rest. Your foster parents are on their way, and I can't wait for them to see you - or for you to see them for what they really are"
TBC
For reference:
Centerpoint Station
Karen guides the shuttle through the tangled web of turbolaser fire, angling down toward the station ... they are struck hard by a blast from the nearest Corvette. The shields go down and the right wing damaged.
...
The shuttle rattles violently as it descends and she spots the only open hangar close enough and takes the chance. She grips the controls tightly, trying to keep it steady while slowing them down as much as she can. The shuttle protests but she manages to keep the nose up as it sails through the opening and crashes down, skidding along the polished floors into the middle of what looks like a fire fight. She smells smoke, checks her hair in the reflection of the viewport, and bounds out of the chair. The dark troopers are already unloading, rushing into the fray.
...
Flames begin to flicker in the passenger cabin so she ignites her saber and rushes down into the hangar. Upon entry, she takes a moment to assess the situation. Her eyes scan the length of the massive room - the fallen soldiers, the mangled Magna-Guards and suddenly a voice she thought she might never hear again draws her attention.
"Karen!"
She spots Melanie first, firmly planted holding her own saber with a look of sheer bewilderment on her face. Beyond her and behind some crates is a very pregnant Kimber looking so radiant it almost defies nature with Rydan Stratford beside her. Perhaps she should have figured he would be with her and added him to the no-kill list. She is about to call back but Melanie turns and shouts.
"Get her out of here!"
Concern creases Rydan's striking features but he does not hesitate. He turns, grabbing Kimber and pulling her away. Another man who she recognizes from Holo reports out of Corellia and a solider follow suit leaving Melanie to face her alone. The path Rydan takes is blocked by Magna-Guards so Karen reaches out and shoves them out of the way with the Force. This gesture, while helping Kimber to escape, is translated by Melanie as an apparently hostile gesture and she raises her saber.
Karen gasps as the blue blade connects with her own in an unexpected clash between two people who used to be the best of friends. Perhaps Melanie is not as happy to see her.
"What?" Karen says, smirking. "No hug?"
Melanie advances, bearing down more quickly and more aggressively than she ever thought possible. Karen counters, stepping back. Melanie clips the side of her blade, crouches and thrusts out her left arm creating a shockwave through the Force which sends Karen cart wheeling into the far wall. She slams against the flat surface then crumples to the ground, trying to catch her breath. She raises her eyes up as Melanie strides forward with white robes that flow freely around her. Dark troopers fan out around them, easily dispatching the soldiers but finding it far more difficult to tackle the droids. The look in Melanie's usually inviting blue eyes is now cold, distant and her voice is more hostile than she has ever heard it.
"I will never allow you to strike them down."
All the posturing and pretense evaporates in the moment. It is then she realizes Melanie is operating on outdated and incorrect information. Even now she is still being manipulated, still playing out the role she was cast in by Alexander Winton.
Karen shakes her head, "You have it all wrong! This is a mistake! Melanie listen to me!"
Melanie narrows her gaze, raising the saber high.
"No, my friend. It is you who are mistaken. Your reign of terror ends here."
Centerpoint Station
Melanie bears down as Karen raises her own saber to defend. The hissing sound the blades make upon contact is surprisingly loud but Karen stands and forces her friend back. The slash, parry, twirl, parry, strike is almost like a macabre dance as the women circle each other. The Magna-Guards have dispatched most of the dark troopers but the droids themselves can barely function with the damage they have sustained. For the most part, they are alone, surrounded by bodies, flaming shuttles and overturned crates. By now, the Empire has landed in other points of the station and pushed their way in. The droid presence would be an unexpected and dangerous adversary had Karen not alerted the fleets but she cannot think about that right now. This fight with Melanie is startling in its own bare reality, a confrontation she feels may have always been coming. They had been so close yet so different from one another. Karen was always the selfish one where as Melanie empathized with the human struggle. Funny how she had convinced her their powers were not necessary for them to be considered special yet here they are in full display. Both had received the training they had shunned in the past only in opposite fields of study.
Karen defends herself but does not go for the offensive strike nor does she unleash the telekinetic fury she has recently mastered. A part of her, foolishly or not, believes she can still reason with Melanie, make her understand how they had all been duped from the get-go. There is a way to be free of the prophecy if only she would hear her out. Mara had taught her that self-centered wanton destruction does not often bring about the results one hopes for.
And that is why she deactivates her saber.
At first, Melanie does not know how to react to this gesture, keeping her own glowing blade firmly in a defensive position.
Karen speaks slowly as she continues to circle.
"Melanie, listen to me. I know a lot has changed since we last saw one another. The galaxy is different now and a part of that is on me. It's on all of us. We helped shape what the worlds have become, the lives at stake and those that have been lost. The paths we have taken are not solely our own. They are the design of another. We have made choices based on tragic misdirection, purposefully placed before us to achieve a certain outcome. My father, still very much alive, has outdone himself yet again. Us, here, now - this is what he wants."
Melanie draws in a long breath, "Be that as it may, you are not guiltless. He is not the only reason we are here and I am in awe at your audacity to stand before me and claim otherwise."
"None of us are guiltless. We have all compromised ourselves in order to survive. While blame does lie in the choices we have made, the fault in our belief does not."
"You say that like you can simply brush aside what you came for."
Karen shakes her head, "You have no idea what I came for."
"Yes, I do. You came to murder the rest spoken of in the prophecy so that you and your Emperor can rule. So it is written, so shall it be."
"The prophecy is a lie!" Karen screams. "Melanie, don't you see that? It's always been a lie! My father took what my mother uncovered and Alexia dug up then twisted it to fit his own purpose."
Melanie blinks away the tears now stinging her eyes, emotions from the past and present boiling over and she verbally fires back.
"Your mother is the one who gave it to me in the first place. Do you know what that was like, Karen? Do you? Having our fates placed in my hands? The pressure to keep the secret in fear it would risk all our lives? All the times I wanted to tell you or Kimber or even Valerie but kept it in. I was only fifteen! I was so frightened and confused that I confided only in the Jedi who came for me."
"What Jedi?"
"The one your mother sold your father out to. She knew that his intentions for us were never pure. So did my mother. So did a lot of people. He lied to our parents, made them believe we were destined for great things when really all we ever did was leave a path of destruction and death in our wakes. All the friends we lost, the people who suffered and died simply because they knew us! How do you expect to atone for that? How can any of us expect to find solace in what we have done? It was my responsibility to protect the truth for as long as I did. I honored your mother's wishes at the expense of people's lives."
Karen arches a brow, keeping a comfortable distance between them.
"And you think it's just a coincidence it was you she turned to? We were all deceived, Melanie. Every single action taken was meticulously plotted out to set in motion the next pre-planned reaction. He filled my mother's head with notions that you would save us all from big bad Alexia then big bad me. She may have believed she was doing the right thing after so much time doing nothing that she never stopped to realize she was playing right into his hands. So were you, so was I. We are playing into them right now! Don't you think it's time we break those vicious cycles my father is so fond of?"
Melanie narrows her gaze.
"And how, pre-tell, do you suppose we do that? Let my guard down? Trust you after you and your Empire have hunted us across the galaxy?"
"Despite what you have been led to believe, I am not here to kill you or Kimber. I came to save my friends after realizing the error in my judgment almost cost me everything. I came to finally destroy my father and that dreadful prophecy he's been lording over us our entire lives! I want us to be free from it all, to go our own ways, separately or together, but on our own terms. I can't even imagine what you must think of me after all the damage I've done and I don't blame you. I have to live with the mistakes I made along the way, the brash and irresponsible way I conducted myself. You have every right to hate me, hell, you even have the right to withhold forgiveness or mercy but I beseech you to stop and think carefully about who's agenda you are actually trying to accomplish. Yours or his?"
Melanie lowers the saber and steps closer. Karen does not back away.
"You are right."
Relief floods through her, propelling her forward.
"I'm so sorry, Melanie. For everything."
"You may not be the problem," Melanie replies softly, stepping forward and twirling the blade before plunging it all the way through Karen's stomach.
Karen gasps, hands outstretched, staring first at the blue saber then raising her eyes to Melanie's face. The speed and brutality of these actions is not how she saw this heartfelt moment ending. She had been deceived by someone whom she thought was never capable of such things, someone who always fared on the lighter side of life. In this moment, it dawns on Karen that there is darkness in everyone, even those who shine the brightest.
Melanie withdraws the weapon, "But you are not part of the solution either."
Karen drops to her knees.
"I never came here...to hurt you."
She sags forward, one hand clamped over her stomach, feeling the rush of air pass through her entire body.
Melanie glares down at her coldly, "I am afraid that is not a risk I can afford to take."
Karen smirks, one last time, before falling forward and lying still on the hangar bay floor.
-
Somewhere
Dahlia silently seethes, clenching and unclenching her fists as she stares vacantly into the darkness.
*
As time passes so very slowly as a captive, the children keep themselves entertained with stories and games. Riley tells them all about growing up on the Wheel and the many worlds and adventures he had been on with his aunt Mara. Dane shares stories of visiting his father's corporate tower on Etti IV and taking a tour of the labs. Gemma sings them a song and the melody drifts into the cave beyond the cell, a sound so sweet that the Infiltrator's pause in their programmed routines to listen.
*
Corporate Sector
D'ian System: Monroe Estate
Kier and Tobias are stunned by the connections presented. After watching the documentary, they decided to see the cineplex feature as well. Where Bound by Blood was dark, gripping and overwhelmingly tragic, Vogue Empire was a cinematic fairy tale by comparison. Stunning visuals, impressive acting and rather liberal embellishments of the facts to make it all the more twisted. The truths they take away from both are simple...the history of the Gellar-Masterton's is messy and complicated. It also puts things in a different perspective and allows for others possibilities in the kidnapping of their friends. Muriel was right. If someone found out about who they are related to and what those people did, they may not want those things repeated in the present.
But where is the proof? The Espos have nothing to go on and for all they know, the Direx Board could be the ones behind it. As much as it kills him, Kier knows there is not much he can do for Dahlia. He would have to leave it up to the authorities to do their job. The one thing they had to do was quell the unrest at their school. The student body believes they are no longer safe and it was up to them to make things right. He stands and makes an impassioned speech at which point Tobias stifles a laugh.
Muriel shrugs, glazed over, and glances out the window.
-TBC
-
Korriban
She knew they were coming - not just because the woman had told her. Dahlia already was certain she lied more often than not. But Dahlia FELT the presence of the rescuers. A bright spark in the midst of an otherwise darkness. And her adopted father. Dahlia couldn't remember when she had decided to start making that distinction of Rutherford. For most of her life, he had been her father. Even once she had discovered the truth, even when she was first a captive here, she still considered Rutherford her father. And yet as she thought about him now, and about all that she had learned, she couldn't help but put in that qualifier. Not her father. Her adopted father. Of course, that didn't matter - adopting her was just a sign that he and Celeste loved her as much as their biological children. No matter what the woman told her.
And now they were coming. Rutherford Gellar was coming to save Dahlia, and Gemma, and Dane - and probably that Riley boy as well. Soon, she would be free of this place, and home, back where everything was right, where she ruled the school and had friends and was popular and was fashionable, where she had family and comfort.
"Don't fool yourself, Dahlia. They aren't going to save you"
She felt a burst of anger as the sith woman made her entrance into Dahlia's dark cell. With any luck, the rescue would be the end of this torturous woman who filled her with lies and with pain.
"They are only going to save the others, the good ones. The ones THEY care about"
"They care about me"
"You'll see"
Then she saw them, him, Rutherford Gellar, adopted father rushing into the light that was cast by her siblings' lit cell. Watched as he practically lunged at them and was pushed back by the forcefield.
The sith woman laughed, Dahlia seethed.
She watched the reunion of parents and children. Of course, the embrace was fine - but why weren't they looking for her?
"They don't care about finding you, Dahlia"
She didn't believe it, shaking her head.
"They'll come for me. They don't see me yet. They found them because the light was on, but we are sitting in darkness. When they find me, they'll rescue me"
"Time to prove you wrong"
As if on cue, Dahlia was blinded by the sudden light. The cell had never been lit before, and now, as it's florescent lights were activated, she found she had to adjust. But there was no time for it. She felt herself lifted into the air, and then, the excrutiating pain as the sith began hitting her with the lightning. Dahlia felt it through her body, through every inch, every nerve.
She turned her head, looking out, seeing her adopted father. Rutherford Gellar was standing there, staring. Why wasn't he coming?
The pain was so much, so much, and she screamed. Calling for help. Pleading for help.
"Daddy! DADDY! HELP ME!"
But he just stood there. He stood there, watching as his adopted daughter was being tortured. And then, he turned, grabbing Gemma and Dane, Dahlia's siblings - adopted siblings - and ran in the other direction.
The pain of the lightning was horrible. But Dahlia suddenly felt numb. Her shouting had fallen to a mere whisper, tears streaming from her eyes until finally, she collapsed to the ground, the sith woman stepping out and leaving her in the lit cell. Her voice was almost to herself
"Daddy ... daddy ... you left me ... you left your Dahlia ... how could you do that ..."
She felt fear, pain, anguish, and above all, betrayal, eyes sore and red as tears of pain became tears of anger.
"How could you do that to me"
TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Senate Hall
Janessa Kain, Republic liaison to the Corporate Sector, listens as the Federation Ambassador unloads her lies with a growing horror. What the fuck is she doing up there? The traitorous bitch! She had facilitated and controlled the information regarding the kidnapping of the Gellar-Masterton children as Garron Prescott had requested. The Senate was busy with many other matters and it seemed unlikely they would press for a settlement when products were still being primarily purchased and shipped from the CSA.
This development is not a good one.
At all.
In fact, it was more than just unexpected as Janessa was under the impression that the once hostile relationship between Gellar and Tacofer had softened, becoming civil and amenable. Prescott had even implied that Tacofer had agreed to assist in the search for the children which makes her statements before the Senate as confusing as they are surprising. As the permits are easily granted by vote and a request made to suspend Sector trading, Janessa grips her com-link as she sweeps out of the room, trailing behind the reporters shouting questions at a smiling Mara Tacofer.
The Direx Board operator answers curtly but lightens when she identifies herself. They ask what they can do for her.
“Get me Iver Aguilar now.â€
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Janessa Kain is shown to the Speaker’s office after insisting on a meeting. She is dressed in tight but conservative clothing – a white button up blouse, charcoal gray pencil skirt and black heels. Her black-rimmed glasses frame her lovely oval eyes and her dark hair is pulled back and woven into two circular buns at the base of her neck. Once the door closes behind her, the Speaker invites her to have seat which she does, demurely crossing one leg over the other. His eyes briefly glance over her form before he speaks.
“Miss Kain, how nice to see you again. I trust you have come to discuss the Federation presentation to the Senate?â€
She nods.
“Speaker Apteen, I must protest to these unfounded allegations against the Corporate Sector. There is no debate over the request for Federation technology to defend our borders. Republic security should always be the highest priority. There is, however, grave concern over how and why the Federation Ambassador chose to undermine the ongoing negotiations – negotiations which I was assured were proceeding smoothly.â€
“That is not the way the Ambassador sees it.â€
“Admittedly, Ambassador’s Gellar and Tacofer got off to a rocky start in their opening statements to the Senate. Wisely, both parties agreed that in order to best serve the Republic’s needs, they would have to work together and have been doing so for months. In light of the reports that Ambassador Gellar’s children were abducted in the Corporate Sector, we were led to believe Ambassador Tacofer had agreed to suspend talks until the matter was resolved.â€
Speaker Apteen tilts his head with curiosity, “Led to believe by whom?â€
“The Ambassador herself.â€
“In her presentation, Ambassador Tacofer stated that Ambassador Gellar has left Chandaar. Is this true?â€
Janessa nods again.
“It is, Speaker Apteen. He received a lead on the possible whereabouts of his children and departed with small team that includes one of your most trusted Counselors, Circe Prescott, to assist with any diplomatic needs. Now the Federation Ambassador claims the Corporate Sector staged the kidnapping to stall negotiations when the Security Police Director cleared all members of any involvement. The photage Ambassador Tacofer showed to the Senate was already reviewed in their investigation of the Direx Board. There is no doubt that the carrier in question does have the markings of the Corporate Sector but it is strongly believed by the Security Police that it was purposefully used to make it appear they had a hand in the kidnapping to divert suspicion from any other faction or suspect.â€
“And you believe the Federation is to blame for this?â€
“It is unclear at this time,†Janessa says. “They are currently investigating the origin and ownership of the carrier but they have concluded it does not belong to anyone on the Direx Board. A formal inquiry into the matter has been made and the Corporate Sector will allow the Republic authorities to assist in the investigation to clear their name. They want to assure the Republic they had no intention of sabotaging the Federation and were close to a deal that would equally shoulder the demand for supplies which makes the timing of these allegations all the more suspicious. They also ask that the Republic Senate deny the Federation’s request to suspend trading with the Corporate Sector and allow time for the investigation to maintain their innocence.â€
-TBC
-
Korriban
Dahlia was in a daze. Disbelief. Pain. Anger. That was why it took her several minutes before she realized she was alone.
The lights in the outer chamber had dimmed to near the darkened state they were in before. The lights from both her cell and that of the other children had turned off. All of the creatures she saw crawling away, and the mysterious sith woman – they were nowhere in sight.
Reaching out with a hand, she realized that her cell was also left open. No force field in place.
Weakly, she rose to her feat and unsteadily stepped out into the cave. She looked around, seeing the surroundings in detail for the first time. Still no one appeared. She began moving forward, not quite sure where she was going, but in the same direction the rescuers – not HER rescuers, but those of the other children – had gone. Even if Rutherford had abandoned her, that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to escape herself.
She moved slowly, not knowing where she was going, muscles aching from the torture she had gone through over the past few weeks and days.
The lights were behind her now, and she moved deeper into the darkness. She could hear the sounds of scratching against stone, coming from one side or another, but still, no one appeared.
Her foot bumped against something and she glanced down, letting out a scream as she saw a body – or the shadow of a body.
“What, Dahlia. It’s not as though you’ve never killed before. Remember?â€
Dahlia whirled around to find the sith woman standing there, a tiny lamp in her hand. She glanced back at the figure, more visible in the light of the lamp. He was middle-aged, or maybe a little older, dressed in jedi garb, with blood soaking the torso of his clothing. She turned back to the sith woman, shaking her head.
“When have I ever done this before?â€
“Oh don’t play coy, Dahlia. You had murder in your heart when you destroyed your supposed attacker Chandaar. Obliterated him, with barely a thought. Powerful, deadly. Unrefined, yes, but murder nonetheless. And whether you realize it now, you got a rush out of that kill. It’s only natural. When an enemy dies, it makes you feel good. When you are responsible for his death, it’s even better.â€
Dahlia didn’t know how to respond. What happened on Chandaar was different, but she couldn’t explain why. She looked back down at the man, finally coming up with what she thought was a decent answer.
“This man was a jedi. They’re the good guysâ€
“Only according to the jedi. But what you will find, Dahlia, is that GOOD is all relative. The only difference between the jedi and the sith is this: The jedi, out of a sense of self-righteousness, curtail their emotions, and thus weaken themselves; The sith, out of a desire for power, use their emotions and strengthen themselves. Neither is good or bad. There is only what is good for me and what is bad for me.â€
“So it was ok to torture me because it was good for youâ€
“No – it was ok to make you suffer because it was good for YOU. You benefit from the truth, you grow harder and stronger with the anger and the pain. I don’t lie, the way the Gellars do. I don’t say one thing and do another. I don’t care if you like me. I don’t care if you hate me. In fact, it would probably work better for you if you can use that hate. I simply want to teach you. Use the truth, use your emotions. Then, you won’t be hurt by what others do or don’t doâ€
“No one has hurt me but you!â€
Adubell let out a laugh.
“Oh really? It wasn’t just pain that caused your tears. Your adopted father abandoned you here. Left you to die while saving his precious truebornsâ€
Dahlia had no response, because after all she had seen and heard – watching as Rutherford Gellar walked away from her after watching her suffer – she believed it. But hearing Adubell say it out loud was the worst part of it. For weeks, Dahlia had insisted that if Rutherford came, he would save her. And now it turns out, Dahlia’s steadfast belief was wrong, while the sith woman’s was right.
And because losing that sense of what was true and what was false was too unsettling, Dahlia did not react with words, but with actions. She blamed Adubell for causing the confrontation, for Rutherford running, whether she understood it or not, and with an almost animalistic yell, she lunged at her.
Adubell jumped aside and Dahlia stumbled past her. But she felt something she hadn’t felt since her captivity – strength. Rather than colliding into a rock, she SENSED the rock column, reaching out with a hand and running it along the smooth stone, breaking her momentum and whipping her around to face the sith again. Adubell was standing there with amusement on her face as Dahlia ran at her again. This time, Adubell spun, smacking Dahlia with the lamp.
Only Dahlia sensed the lamp, felt it coming, and she managed to turn, grabbing it as Adubell reached out, pulling it from the sith and whipping it back at her.
Adubell jumped back, defensively, as Dahlia swung the lamp back and forth. The sith reached out with a hand, triggering the force and pulling at Dahlia and her makeshift weapon.
But Dahlia not only was in a fury- she felt how it made her stronger, and she began to USE it. She wasn’t a slave to her emotions, they were a slave to her. And she was going to use that raw power to kill this woman who had tortured her and caused her such pain. The lamp stayed in her hands, until Dahlia released it, letting it fly through the air toward Adubell, who ducked sideways. The lamp smashed into a rock, and the cavern became dark.
But Dahlia still felt Adubell’s presence preparing to run toward her, maybe grab her from behind, break her neck, strangle her – anything to make the sith end.
Just as she began to move though, the dark was pierced by a dim red glow, as Adubell’s lightsaber became lit. The sith was smiling as she approached Dahlia, who backed away, a look of hatred in her eyes.
“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. I don’t want any more of this painâ€
“I’m not the one causing you the painâ€
“You are – you and themâ€
“I can teach you, Dahlia. You have such potential. I can teach you how to turn your pain into power. And seek revenge on those who have harmed youâ€
“Like youâ€
“And your so-called familyâ€
Dahlia’s back pressed against a rock formation, her hand grazing against the smooth stone. She wanted it all to be gone, but she wanted Adubell dead first. She felt that strength, the anger and hatred rushing through her, and the next thing she knew, that solid piece of rock was hovering in the air above her. A moment later, it rushed ahead, a pointed rock toward the sith’s body.
Adubell was surprised by the show of strength from one so untrained, and didn’t react in time. Her saber swung in a blocking position, slicing the rock in two, but she found herself on her back, pinned by a portion of the rock, her saber knocking to the floor just outside of her reach. As she tried to summon it to her, the saber floated into the air – into Dahlia’s hands as she now stood over Adubell, poised to strike, to kill.
Adubell looked up at Dahlia, first with curiosity, then with amusement, a smile again on her lips.
“So, Dahlia Winton, what will it be?â€
Dahlia lowered the weapon, letting the tip rest just a few inches above Adubell’s neck.
But then she didn’t strike. Seemingly forever, she stood there, ready to kill the sith woman. But she didn’t.
“I want you to teach me … teach me how to use this power … I’m going to make sure no one can ever walk out on me ever againâ€
TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Janessa Kain dresses in her lavish apartment. She has dinner plans with a few friends from the Republic Executive Offices. There has been no word from Garron Prescott and she is beginning to worry. She wonders if her message even reached him as she fastens a chandelier earring in the mirror. Her mind is still spinning from the revelation about Circe Prescott. They were not close but they had worked in the same circles for years and she had a reputation of being ethically unmatched if not a bit uptight. Even if Circe had been framed, the smoking blaster was in the purchase order shown to her by Speaker Shale Apteen. That was something she could not easily explain away. All she could do is beseech him to investigate on behalf of the Corporate Sector which they reluctantly agreed to do. If Circe’s reputation had not been what it was, she doubts they would have even given her such a courtesy.
She dabs on some dark lipstick before stepping back and admiring herself. The tight patterned deep purple dress is perfect for such a high profile night on the town. Many of the Republic’s most prolific and influential dignitaries and policymakers dined in the Monaco District at the end of the week. Janessa grabs her purse and heads for the door only to find three Republic Security Agents standing on the other side.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t request a detail this evening.â€
The senior officer steps forward.
“I’m afraid this is official business, Miss Kain.â€
“Is there is a problem?â€
“That has yet to be determined,†he says. “If you wouldn’t mind coming with us down to the precinct, we just need to ask you a few questions.â€
Janessa arches a brow, “The precinct? Am I being accused of something?â€
“We just need some information in regards to your professional relationship with Rutherford Gellar and Garron Prescott.â€
“You think I’m in collusion with Gellar and Prescott? That’s ridiculous. I don’t work for Gellar; I work for the Republic representing the interests of the Corporate Sector.â€
“Please, Miss Kain. Come with us.â€
“Fine,†she says, pulling her com-link from her purse. “But I’m calling my lawyer.â€
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: RSB Headquarters
The agents do not place her under arrest nor is she restrained. They simply led Janessa to their transport and take her to the main precinct. The Republic Security Bureau is the primary protective force within the Republic borders with branches that mirrored that of the old administration prior the Imperial takeover on the former capital of Coruscant. Ironically enough, they are all outfitted with weapons produced by the Sector's own, Palace Arms.
Her lawyer, Kaytt Corinthos, is already present when they arrive. She and Janessa had met many years before on Etti IV. Having grown up on D’ian with her wealthy family, Kaytt was accepted into a prestigious law academy in the Sector capital after graduating from Valor Prep. Janessa was new to her position and had gone to the Corporate Sector to meet the members of the Direx Board and familiarize herself with the politics and various agenda’s to better represent them in the Republic. Kaytt had been schmoozing a few executives at a soiree when she sought out Janessa as an ally. They were the youngest people present and together, they were able to slay through the crowd to win both rave reviews and lucrative connections alike. As Kaytt began clerking for one of the capital’s largest firms, Janessa made a point to visit periodically or host her for small holiday’s on Chandaar. After ascending the ranks quickly due to her razor sharp wit and tendency to reduce opposing counsel to tears, Kaytt accepted an offer from a Republic firm who mainly represented members of the Executive branch. She made partner in three years and offered any legal services to Janessa pro bono which, until now, she hadn’t needed.
Kaytt is also dressed to impress as she had intended on meeting Janessa and others for dinner. The look on her face indicates the diversion is not a welcome one. Janessa stops beside her.
“What’s going on?â€
“They are grasping,†Kaytt says. “I was already here when you called. They stopped me outside my apartment.â€
“What? Why?â€
“Apparently, my connection to you and the Corporate Sector got their little minds whirling. They wanted to know when the last time I visited was, who I saw, what I did, the works. They somehow believe we were all privy to Counselor Prescott’s activity and suppressed it in collusion to the larger plot against the Trade Federation.â€
“That’s ridiculous,†Janessa hisses.
“Oh, I’ve already made a stink about it when they told me they pulled my financials and card activity for the past two months. They found nothing but client lunches and boutique shops. I believe they have done the same for you. This is just a formality and an annoying one at that but I must ask if you knew anything I should be aware of prior to their questioning.â€
“Of course not.â€
An enervated yet striking man approaches, smiling broadly at both of them.
“Good evening, I’m Inspector Pike Erbon.â€
“Kaytt Corinthos,†she says. “And this is my client, Janessa Kain.â€
He nods before showing them into one of the conference rooms. It’s not used for formal interrogation and far more comfortable which they appreciate. Janessa takes a seat with Kaytt by her side. Inspector Erbon sits across the table from them, trying to appear more casual than he may actually feel. The investigation is complex and requires a delicate approach which most agents are not used to applying. They were instructed to leave no angle uncovered hence the scope of their questioning.
Kaytt wastes no time.
“Why don’t we start with why you’ve decided it prudent to drag me and my client before you this evening?â€
“I apologize if it seems that way, counselor but I assure you-“
“Assurances only go so far, Inspector. Are you charging my client with something or not?â€
He knows Corinthos by reputation and had been warned about her knack for going straight for the jugular.
“We were hoping for a simple conversation, if you don’t object. Miss Kain, you are the Republic liaison to the Corporate Sector, is that correct?â€
Janessa levels her gaze, “You already know that I am.â€
“And how long have you held that position?â€
“Almost ten years.â€
“In that time, how often have you met with Rutherford Gellar?â€
“Not very,†Janessa says evenly. “I see him at the Direx Board functions when I visit Etti IV and, more specifically, here when I received his delegation on Chandaar.â€
“So, you are not personally acquainted with him?â€
“We are not friends, if that is what you mean.â€
“Very good,†Inspector Erbon says. “Now, seeing as the most concentrated contact you’ve had with Gellar has been within the last several months, has he mentioned anything that would lead you to believe he was involved in the abduction of his own children?â€
“The Republic liaison’s conversations in regards to the client are subject to the corporate confidentiality clause.†Kaytt interjects sharply.
“Not if it pertains to criminal action.â€
“Alleged, Inspector and that is highly speculative. Much like with doctor-patient, criminal action is defined as harm to self or others.â€
“Kidnapping falls in the latter category, counselor. Miss Kain?â€
Janessa shakes her head, “No.â€
“How well do you know Garron Prescott?â€
That’s a loaded question. She had told Kaytt about her wild sexual adventures with Gellar’s valet but such an admission would cast her in an unflattering light. She can feel Kaytt’s eyes on her now, willing her to downplay the nature of their relationship.
“I know he’s an associate and have, at times, communicated through to him to relay messages when Gellar is otherwise unavailable.â€
“So you do not know him personally either?â€
“No.â€
Inspector Erbon seems activated by this and pulls a file from the chair beside him.
“Are you sure?â€
“Yes.â€
“According to our reports, you were seen leaving Prescott’s room at the Hotel Ovallus two weeks ago.â€
Janessa shrugs, “It is not uncommon to meet with him while Gellar and the Federation Ambassador are in negotiations.â€
“At four in the morning?â€
“Some things cannot wait.â€
“Or be relayed by com-link, apparently.â€
“Get to the point,†Kaytt snaps.
Inspector Erbon nods, “During these meetings with Garron Prescott, was Counselor Circe Prescott present during any of them?â€
“No.â€
“Do you know Counselor Prescott?â€
“We’ve met a few times here on Chandaar."
“Meaning what?â€
“Meaning,†Janessa says, bristling. “We run in some of the same circles dealing with the Senate.â€
“So you have no knowledge of any dealings she may have had in connection with the kidnapping?â€
“No.â€
“You are aware it was discovered Counselor’s Prescott’s accounts were used to purchase the cruiser which transported the Gellar-Masterton children from D’ian?â€
Janessa nods, “I was shown the purchase order from Speaker Apteen but I cannot attest to its validity.â€
“You do not believe she purchased the cruiser?â€
“I do not believe someone of her stature would conspire with her brother and his employer to use children in some political move against the Trade Federation. Not after all she’s been through.â€
The Inspector smiles, “By that you are referring to the Counselor’s association with the daughter of Gellar’s wife, Celeste Masterton?â€
“Yes, I read she was with Melanie shortly before the battle of Centerpoint. Such emotional ties would not typically drive someone to commit an act like this. Gellar’s history with the Federation notwithstanding, it seems terribly convenient this would all suddenly come out the moment the Republic needs something from the Federation with potential opportunities on the line.â€
“You have a theory?â€
Janessa and Kaytt exchanges glances, one that says tread carefully.
“I have an opinion based on what little I know. The Gellar delegation came to Chandaar first to persuade the Republic against granting permits to the Federation. In light of the bickering that resulted, another tactic was employed, one that would move past their differences to arrive at a deal that would work for all parties involved. To the best of my knowledge, the proceedings had been moving along smoothly. When the children were reported missing, I was told the Federation Ambassador was sympathetic and there was no indication at the time she believed it was a ploy to undermine them. When Gellar had received a lead and departed, the Ambassador capitalized on the opportunity before the Senate and records implicating Counselor Prescott in a larger conspiracy were suddenly produced. The timing, in my opinion, Inspector, seems rather suspicious.â€
He regards her curiously.
“For a woman who is not personally acquainted with any of the aforementioned parties, you certainly have strong feelings toward the matter.â€
“It’s my job to have strong feelings, Inspector.â€
“Strong enough to conspire with them?â€
“Careful,†Kaytt warns. “My client has been more than cooperative with your questioning.â€
“And we appreciate it,†Erbon says. “I just need to ask.â€
“The only conspiracy here is on the part of the Federation and to believe otherwise is ludicrous.â€
“Is it? A wealthy and powerful corporate executive pressures his associate to influence his sister’s Republic connections to stage a kidnapping that would delay ongoing negotiations, possibly indefinitely while their products continue to sell at a record pace. While the conspirators flee the capital, those left behind to speak for them, say; a liaison and her lawyer are paid for their efforts to divert blame to the opposing faction.â€
Kaytt’s eyes flare wide with anger but her voice is low and threatening.
“I resent that gross assumption by you and your department. You know damn well neither one of us has received such a payment of any kind nor we will continue to sit here and listen to your outrageous allegations. Had you any proof, you would have charged us by now.â€
“I’m simply talking out loud.â€
“Out of your ass, more like. We’ve come here as a professional courtesy and you have not only taken advantage of it but managed to insult us as well.â€
Inspector Erbon folds his hands together on the table.
“It was not my intention to do so, counselor but there are too many coincidences to overlook. You, for instance. Your father, Alistair Corinthos, owns the largest utility in the Corporate Sector and sits on the Direx Board. You just happen to represent Janessa Kain, the sector liaison who works in proximity to Counselor Circe Prescott, sister of Rutherford Gellar’s associate, Garron Prescott and, from the looks of things, may have more than just a professional relationship with him.â€
Kaytt narrows her eyes at him.
“Circumstantial, Inspector,†Kaytt quips, rising with Janessa from their seats. “I suggest you look it up the next time you feel like talking out loud. Until you can produce proof of these alleged connections, we have nothing more to say but I will tell you that you are looking in the wrong direction if you hope to solve this case.â€
“I’ll take that under advisement.â€
“See that you do.â€
“I just have one more question.â€
“This ought to be good.â€
“Do you know where Rutherford Gellar, Garron Prescott or Circe Prescott are at this moment?â€
His gaze lingers on Janessa’s face.
“No.â€
“We’re done here. Goodnight, Inspector.â€
Janessa follows Kaytt from the conference room in silence, completely blown away by the conversation that just transpired. Perhaps this was the Federation’s plan all along; use the connections to twist the series of events in their favor. If it’s all some grand conspiracy, they look like the victim who can save the day with their precious gravity well technology that would ward off the random border attacks and paint the Corporate Sector as immoral villains who would use children to save their contracts.
If this was the avenue the RSB chose to pursue, Janessa is not sure what else she could do to convince them without presenting proof herself. Iver Aguilar had told her the Direx Board publicly denounced Gellar’s actions. Do they know something she does not? She had grown fond of Garron Prescott, more so than just a sexual conquest, and she did not want to believe he would purposefully deceive her but had she not done similar things in the past? Haven’t they all committed offenses in the name of corporate policy and business as usual?
Is she merely a piece in their game?
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Reports are breaking and rumors begin to swirl.
There are whispers in the corridors of the Senate Hall. Janessa decides to release a small statement to the Republic press that would distance her from the revealing yet suspicious accusations lodged against the Prescott family and their known associates while promoting Sector relations. She calls for the authorities to uncover the truth and for the public to withhold judgment until the investigation has concluded. She then clarifies that the Corporate Sector has been viciously and unfairly maligned in association with outrageous and unfounded accusations made by the Trade Federation in their latest ploy to gain the Republic’s trust after a deep history of deception and disaster. This statement is released on the steps outside the Senate Hall with Janessa dressed in a tactfully conservative outfit that exudes an image of professionalism and innocence.
As she concludes, RSB Agents break through the crowds of reporters and formally arrest Janessa Kain in connection to the death of Inspector Pike Erbon. Everything, including their charges and her stunned reaction are captured in high definition quality for the entire Republic to see. She is again taken to the main precinct where the agents demand answers. Knowing better than to fall for their badgering, Janessa narrows her dark eyes and very clearly invokes her right to an attorney.
Kaytt appears swiftly, livid that they would even insinuate Janessa had any knowledge of the events surrounding Erbon’s death, especially so early on in the investigation.
“My client has already told you what she knows. To the best of our knowledge, Counselor Prescott is off world with her brother and Rutherford Gellar trying to find his missing children.â€
The Director of Republic Security, Laird Drakos, joins them in the interrogation room. They do not believe Janessa’s claims of ignorance, now more certain the children were a ruse to allow Gellar and the Prescott’s to escape.
“Even if that were true,†Kaytt says sharply. “Why would my client simply stay behind? I am by no means trying to minimize the tragic loss of your colleague or attempt to impede the investigation but I assure you my client is not involved. Holding her will not magically produce Counselor Prescott for questioning. She cannot tell you information she does not know.â€
Drakos nods.
“So you continue to assert. I am certain you have heard the reports about the accounts discovered in Circe Prescott’s name, the same accounts used to purchase the carrier which allegedly abducted the Gellar-Masterton children. Did you have any knowledge of these accounts, Miss Kain or any other purposes for which they were used?â€
Kaytt stops Janessa from responding.
“As I am sure you are aware, Counselor Prescott does not work for the Corporate Sector so any financial history or records would not be disclosed to the Sector liaison nor is it her responsibility to keep track of such details.â€
Director Drakos is unrelenting.
“Given Miss Kain’s proximity and relationship with Garron Prescott while the Sector delegation has been on Chandaar, it is not implausible he may have disclosed, inadvertently or not, information that would be vital to our investigation.â€
“I do not like what you are implying, Director.â€
“Your comfort with the subject matter is not our concern, counselor Corinthos. We have a Republic Inspector dead just hours after questioning your client, accounts hidden by a trusted member of our diplomatic corps, and a trail of conspiracy that leads right to the Corporate Sector and those who represent it. You can see how this adds a certain credibility to the Federation Ambassador’s claims before the Senate.â€
“A little too convenient, if you ask me.â€
“Or a clever tactic for the Corporate Sector to appear to have the Republic’s best interests in mind while this transpired in the background. When it became clear they would have to deal the Federation in on the profits, they used the Counselor’s resources to stage the kidnapping to stall the negotiations while the Sector liaison talked sympathetic circles around the press.â€
“That’s quite a theory, Director Drakos.â€
“Here’s another,†he says darkly. “After Speaker Apteen uncovered the purchase order for the carrier made in Counselor Prescott’s name and Inspector Erbon began to investigate at the behest of the Sector liaison, he stumbled upon the Counselor’s accounts. We believe that Miss Kain, whose relationship with Garron Prescott remains the subject of much speculation, warned him in some way. According to our records, there was a call made from Miss Kain’s com-link two days ago to a device registered to Garron Prescott.â€
“A full day and a half before Inspector Erbon ever met my client.â€
“Erbon was assigned the case after Miss Kain’s first meeting with Speaker Apteen regarding the Federation Ambassador’s statements. In that meeting she requested the Republic authorities investigate the claims made before the Senate. Erbon was the agent asked to do so. Miss Kain could have easily obtained that information and relayed it to Garron Prescott, giving ample opportunity for he or his sister to arrange for the Inspector’s demise.â€
“I was not aware the medical examiner had ruled on his cause of death.â€
Director Drakos taps on the projector in the interrogation table.
“Actually, he has. Inspector Erbon’s death has been ruled a homicide.â€
Images appear between the Director, Kaytt and Janessa. Photage of Erbon’s body slumped against a back alley wall, clothes torn and blood soaked. Janessa clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Kaytt barely cringes, eyes finding their way back to the Director’s face.
“Just what does this supposedly tell us?â€
“The scene was made to look like a robbery. His wallet and personal belongings were missing. However, the sheer brutality of the act, number of entry wounds and methodical nature are inconsistent with such a motive.â€
“As tragic and alarming as that is, I don’t suppose you have any proof of my client’s involvement in any of this?â€
Director Drakos taps the controls again. The images of a slain Inspector Erbon are replaced by something else entirely. It looks like a sliver, curved ever so slightly to the left.
“May I ask what we are looking at?â€
“It’s a hair follicle. One of three, actually, that were found on Pike Erbon’s clothing.â€
“Fascinating,†Kaytt says. “What does this have to do with-“
“They are a positive genetic match in the Republic database for your client.â€
“Wait, what?†Janessa says, clearly alarmed.
Kaytt raises a hand to calm her.
“They were in the same room hours before you say he was murdered.â€
“That is true,†Drakos admits, keying up a vid that begins to play. In it, Erbon can be seen escorting Kaytt and Janessa out of the conference room the prior evening. After the women disappear from the screen, Erbon walks through the precinct, talking to several other agents, before heading into the locker room. He emerges five minutes later in civilian attire. Erbon then waves to the secretary at the front desk before leaving the precinct. “But this is the last time Inspector Erbon was seen alive.â€
Janessa shakes her head.
“Clearly, Erbon changed clothing before he left. The forensics team examined the uniform left in his locker, the same one he was wearing when he last spoke to you, Miss Kain. No hairs or fibers were found. The evidence in question was found on his civilian attire, hours later, after his body was discovered. This puts you in contact with Erbon after you left the precinct or at the scene of the murder.â€
“No,†Janessa says. “I never left my building.â€
“Check the security photage,†Kaytt snaps.
Drakos’ expression remains grim.
“We did. There is no evidence you returned to your residence through the lobby or stairwell. That is, unless counselor Corinthos can vouch for that. It is my understanding that you both joined friends in the Monaco District for dinner but parted ways afterwards. We have verified the photage of counsel returning to her building at one-forty in the morning and leaving again at ten, just moments after you requested her presence here.â€
He seems pleased by their silent confusion.
“Your whereabouts between leaving the Monaco District and appearing at your press conference this morning is something of a mystery to us, Miss Kain. The medical examiner concluded Erbon’s time of death occurred between two-thirty and four-thirty this morning.â€
Janessa’s lips part in horror.
“That...isn’t possible.â€
“Oh, it is entirely possible and more than enough evidence to hold you in connection with the murder, wouldn’t you say, counselor?â€
Kaytt glares at him.
Drakos stands, signaling for the agents to enter. They restrain Janessa and remove her from the interrogation room before Kaytt can object. She whirls to face him, furious but at a loss for an explanation. He nods as he passes, heading for the door.
“Good luck on your defense.â€
-TBC
-
Korriban
“Darkness calls to darkness. It calls to you. You can feel it like a heart beating within this temple. How will you respond?â€
-Darth Talon
Dahlia awoke.
It was like before, but different. Staring above her was the same durasteel ceiling, and she lay on the same durasteel slab that made up her bed. The walls around her were the same and the opening blocked her exit with its energy field.
It was like before – but different. Because this time, she was here by choice.
The sith woman had taken her back to the cell, quite surprising Dahlia.
“Am I still your prisoner?â€
“You are my apprenticeâ€
“Do apprentices get treated like prisoners?â€
It was a smug statement, and she had regretted it the moment she said it, the sith woman turning, ferocious anger in her eyes. Dahlia found herself lifted several feet off the ground, wind pipe constricting, air trying to break through. The sith’s face turned casual.
“An apprentice who wishes to one day be a master? Yes. You are coddled, Dahlia Winton. You have been weakened by a life of comfort. And one day, you will return to that world. To make sure you are hardened, to make sure you are strong, you must be tempered with pain and suffering. You must learn to live with pain, suffering, fear, anger, hatred. For these things will make you strong. Will make you what you are destined to beâ€
Dahlia fell to the ground in a heap, coughing as air again entered her lungs. The sith woman towered over her.
“Are you having second thoughts?â€
Dahlia coughed again, but shook her head. No – she was determined to see this through, to become the sith, with the power it held. Then, she could get back at the woman for how she had treated Dahlia all this while.
“Good. Get some rest. Your training begins tomorrowâ€
Dahlia said no more, not wishing to incur the wrath of the woman. Not until she stood a chance of fighting back. True, she had almost killed the sith, but that was luck. It was unlikely such an opportunity would come again soon.
Dahlia lay down on the slab, taking that first night’s sleep, not as a prisoner, but as an apprentice.
And it was not an uneventful sleep either.
Images flooded her mind, images that were foreign and still familiar somehow. She saw a battle of two like her – her birth sisters, Karen and Alexia, an epic battle in the halls of a a massive space station (her first thought was Centerpoint, but this looked darker than the pictures she had seen, and less friendly toward humans). She saw her adopted sister and the boy Riley, a few years older holding hands and walking in what looked like a garden on Naboo. Adopted brother Dane, older, first sitting at a sabaac table, and then, leading a group of similarly aged teenagers through a darkened street. Chaos began to ensue. Riley and Dane fighting, Gemma trying to step between the two, only Gemma now wearing the robe of a jedi padawan.
And then back to her two sisters. Her REAL sisters, that is. As if they noticed they were being watched, the fight between the two ceased and they turned to face Dahlia.
“Sister, have you come to join us?†That was Karen, the ‘nicer’ of the two
“No, Karen – she has come to succeed where we failed. You were too soft, I was too aggressive. But Dahlia is smarter than we ever were, more cunning. She will have your popularity and my strength. She will be unstoppable.â€
Karen looked worried, Alexia looked smug. They stood side by side, but then, their images melded together, a primordial blob that then separated into two different people: Her father and mother. Her real father and mother. Alexander had the same smug look that Alexia had had; her mother, the Queen Monica Greyson, had, Karen’s worried look.
That image faded to show Rutherford and Celeste, running, and then the one who looked like Valerie, the Federation ambassador, in a blaster fight, and then, the angle of her dream turned, like a panned camera shot, and she could see what they were running from – it was Dahlia herself, stalking with a confidence, a power, that she instinctively knew would be her future. The images faded, and then, there was her father, Alexander.
“Daughter – you will be everything your sisters and I were not. You will have the power to rule them allâ€
That was when Dahlia awoke.
It was like before, but different. It wasn’t her surroundings that had changed, it was her. She wasn’t a prisoner, she wasn’t a weakling, she wasn’t a victim. Today, she was a sith apprentice.
TBC.
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Deeply disturbed, Kaytt decides to investigate.
She was with Janessa when she called the press conference. They discussed it on the way to dinner. After going over what should be said, Janessa put out word. The dinner itself had been a riot. There were four other friends who joined them; a partner with another prestigious firm, one of the marketing directors of the Nalaa Grey fashion label, the newly appointed liaison to the Corellian Sector, and a well-known socialite. Kaytt and Janessa had shared their adventures with Inspector Erbon and his ridiculous inquiries although it was agreed that things looked fairly dire for the Sector delegation and Republic Counselor. They all chimed in on ways to spin it, pointing fingers and throwing blame. The conversation seemed to lighten the mood. They stayed for a drink after dinner then left the restaurant.
The socialite invited everyone to a club but they declined. The partner and marketing director shared a hovercab. Kaytt hailed one of her own since she was headed in the opposite direction. Janessa walked with the socialite but left her at the entrance of the club. She claims to have hailed a hovercab shortly afterwards as the streets of the Monaco District were teaming with revelers itching to see and be seen. The extremely hungover socialite confirmed waving Janessa off before entering the club but cannot remember actually seeing her enter the hovercab. Her account is spotty at best as she would not be deemed a reliable witness.
Kaytt rides down to the central station for Republicab. She asks around to see if anyone remembers picking up Janessa Kain at the approximate time. She is a public figure, after all and has been in the news periodically although not quite as much as the past week. By now they would all know her face but no one seems to want to help. She is given the run around then stonewalled by the viciously unfriendly administrator who reminds her pick-up records are only available with a subpoena. That would require hitting up a sympathetic judge and gaining support with the RSB.
At a loss, she decides to find out just how far the news had spread.
She places a call to her younger sister Trichelle in the Corporate Sector, who she hasn’t spoken to in almost six months. The reception is about as warm as she expects but she presses on. Teenagers are always a gauge for how quickly news can become gossip. Bored, Trichelle says she heard Janessa is some kind of slutty deranged psycho cop killer. Apparently it’s worse than she thought. How could something that just happened already be passing between spoiled school kids millions of lightyears away? Stranger still is how easily the supposed evidence painted everyone in a guilty light, almost as if effortlessly tying up loose ends. She thanks Trichelle and hangs up abruptly.
There has to be more to the story, a deeper connection of some sort. Kaytt suspects it may boil down to Rutherford Gellar. It is his presence in the Republic capital and initial clash with Ambassador Tacofer that seemed to kick things off. Just how deep does it go? She needs more information.
Her com bleeps, shattering her thought process.
“Corinthos.â€
“Kaytt,†says a voice very familiar and dear to her. “It’s Iver.â€
The head of the Direx Board is a very close friend of her father’s and had known Kaytt and Trichelle their whole lives. His call is not surprising given the circumstances.
“I take it this isn’t a social call.â€
“Miss Kain’s situation does put us in an interesting position.â€
“And you would like for me to provide some clarity?â€
“If it doesn’t violate client privilege, of course.â€
Kaytt sighs, “I’m afraid it doesn’t look good. For anyone.â€
“You believe she had something to do with the Inspector’s death?â€
“Of course not. She’s not the type.â€
“Come now, Kaytt.,†Iver says. “You know better than anyone that people are capable of quite a bit more than others give them credit for.â€
“I’m not saying people aren’t duplicitous but Janessa has served the Sector faithfully for almost a decade. She has nothing to gain by undermining you or her position within the Republic.â€
“I’m not doubting her loyalty but the investigation brings more heat than we need right now. Gellar’s antics and the allegations against Prescott jeopardize our reputation in the fragile marketplace. Perhaps a temporary leave of Miss Kain’s position is in order until we can resolve matters and restore our name.â€
“And profits,†Kaytt says, smirking to herself.
“You always did understand how things work but there is something that has been bothering me.â€
“More than your bottom line? I’m all ears.â€
“In our last communication, Miss Kain said she believed the Federation permits were approved through secret dealings with the Senate Speaker, Shale Apteen. Has she elaborated on that theory?â€
“No,†Kaytt says. “But now I’m curious. Did she say what kind of deal?â€
“Not specifically but we need to know if the Federation has more leverage than the products they can supply.â€
“So, you want to publicly distance yourself from Janessa but require information from her to help the Corporate Sector triumph over the Trade Federation and gain favor with the Republic?â€
“You can see the dilemma.â€
“Officially, Janessa Kain is my client. If clearing her name happens to benefit you and unravel the mystery then so be it. We’ll be in touch, Iver.â€
Kaytt clicks off and heads for the RSB precinct. She needs answers from Janessa and to see if Director Drakos would be open to other possibilities.
-TBC
-
Korriban
â€Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you.â€?Darth Plagueis
Dahlia felt as though she had never worked so hard in her entire life. Sweat poured down her forehead, stinging her eyes. Her body burned in a hundred places. Clothing had been transformed into rags as a result of her efforts, and bruises colored her pale skin.
She had started with a feeling of confidence, that as one gifted in the Force, one who had used its gifts in the past, that the training would come naturally to her. She had not been prepared.
On the first day, the sith woman had finally identified herself to Dahlia, calling herself ‘Lady Adubell.’
That had been the warmest the woman ever became. Immediately, she set Dahlia to doing menial, back-breaking tasks, from scrubbing floors to using her bare hands to destroy some of the stony columns jutting out of the floor.
Dahlia hated it all, but if ever she so much as whimpered, Adubell would retaliate, striking her with lightning until she collapsed in spasms, Force-slamming her against a hard wall (or jutting spike), choking her with a mere gesture.
Purple welts each told a story of the cruelty under her so-called tutelage. And at the end of each day, As
Dahlia was escorted back to her cell, Adubell would ask the question.
“What have you learned?â€
Dhalia never knew what the right answer was, but no matter what she said, it always seemed to end with more pain, and another night in cold, hard, solitude.
She missed the comforts of her former life. Clothes. Showers. A real bed. She was starting to doubt the choice she had made.
But then she remembered. That life, the life with all those comforts, that had been a lie. And the ones who gave it to her had just as easily abandoned her. If Dahlia wanted those things, she would have to take them for herself. That’s why she was here, that’s why she had to stay, had to endure it all.
But it seemed like it was getting nowhere.
She was aching as she stood in front of a stone, like so many others.
“Destroy it.â€
Adubell was standing behind her, giving her commands. Dahlia was staring at the stone, contemplating what form of torture she would endure today for failing to properly obliterate the stone in front of her. She thought about the tasks she had done, quite frustrated. What was the point of it all? She resented being treated as a trained animal, doing what she was told.
She felt the muscle tighten painfully as she lifted an arm toward the stone, pressing her palm against the cool surface, feeling the stone’s texture. Then she closed her eyes, trying to focus her thoughts. Adubell had said anger and hatred fueled power, and she tried channeling those emotions.
There was Rutherford at the forefront, standing there, watching her be tortured before turning and running, abandoning her.
Rutherford, the abandoner
There was Celeste Masterton, the liar
There was Adubell, the torturer
She had a list of individuals she was angry with, her mind sifting through each in turn, feeling the anger building within her.
And just as she thought she had built herself up enough – WHAM!
Concentration was broken as her body was slammed forward, the room swirling as her head collided with the rock.
Regaining balance, she turned to Adubell, with her stone-cold features.
“I was doing as I was toldâ€
“You didn’t destroy itâ€
“I was going toâ€
“It’s not done. You failedâ€
Dahlia shot back “You cannot fail until you tryâ€
“You ALWAYS fail, whether or not you try.â€
“Why don’t you show me how it’s done than, if you think I’m doing it wrongâ€
ADubell’s hand smacked Dahlia hard across the cheek. Aside from her force abilities, Adubell was not afraid to use normal physical strength to abuse Dahlia.
“You haven’t learned anything yet. It’s not about howâ€
“Than what is it about?â€
“It’s about who you are. Do you know who you are?â€
Dahlia glared at Adubell.
“I’m Dahlia Winton, daughter of Alexander Wintonâ€
“No, foolish child. That’s who you were. Dahlia Winton was a weakling, prone to become a pathetic socialite like her sister Karen. Dahlia Winton will never be a sithâ€
“Alright than, who am I, if you have all the answersâ€
“Now now, Miss Winton, if I give you the answer, that would be cheatingâ€
“So what, I have to guess?â€
“There are other ways of getting answers than guessing. The answer already exists. You have to take itâ€
Dahlia was confused by the answer, but before she could respond, she found her body literally flipped around to face the rock wall.
“Destroy itâ€
Dahlia shook her head, staring at the stone, closing her eyes.
She could spend days like this, constant repetition of nothingness.
If she could not pass whatever riddle Adubell had set before her, she would never fulfill her destiny. And it seemed impossible to guess the riddle. She knew she could destroy the rock, but if that wasn’t the real test, than doing so wouldn’t help her. If she failed to pass the riddle, than she would never be
“anything …â€
The word passed as a whisper and she opened her eyes, turning to face Adubell with a sudden realization.
“I’m nobodyâ€
Hearing herself say it, she said it again, louder.
“Nobody. I am nobody. Because I am not Dahlia Winton, not anymore. But I am not yet a sith. So I am neither. I am nobody.â€
The words escaped her lips almost like a gasp. Adubell was staring at her intently, offering her own contribution.
“Not worthyâ€
Saying those words outloud brought back memories – painful memories. When she learned who she WASN’T – she was not a masterton, not a Gellar. She DIDN’T have family. She was alone. The idea of being nobody was too much … she could feel her body shake at the vastness of the revelation.
“I’m nobodyâ€
She felt her eyes moisten, and she took a step back, away from Adubell.
She felt unsteady with emotion.
And then she felt something different. With the emotion – the genuine emotion, she felt her adrenaline kicking in. But it wasn’t just adrenaline. She could feel the Force, in a way she hadn’t felt it before. Not a burst of uncontrolled energy, or the small bits of controlled ability she had learned at home. There was a wellspring, a slowly rising fuel.
Eyes burning with sweat and tears, she let that emotion wash through her and she turned to the rock, not touching it, but reaching out with a hand.
The entire column of rock burst from where it was rooted, pieces flying forward, cracking into more pieces as it hit other rocks, the last chunks crumbling to dust off in the darkness.
Then she turned to Adubell, who watched her again with that silent intensity.
Dahlia was not crying – it wasn’t sadness she felt. It was a strange emptiness. And she had used that emptiness to, fill herself with the power of the Force, the dark side. She controlled it.
“What have you learned?â€
The answer came easily to her, so strange that it had eluded her until now. It was almost as if the emptiness itself were providing her with the answers
“I am nobody. I am broken. But, I need that. I need to be nothing. I need to be broken. Because only nobody can be transformed completely. And to rule as a sith, I need to be transformed completely. I need to be broken.â€
“Goodâ€
TBC
-
“Because this time I’m
Fighting a constant doubt
I can’t seem to figure out
How we’ve come so far
But it’s loud and clear
I feel the fall again
But can’t seem to understand,
“How did we come to this?â€
-The Epilogues “The Falloutâ€
*
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril Spaceport
Counselor Circe Prescott has run out of tears to cry.
The journey aboard the cargo ship she had been stashed away in was uneventful, leaving plenty of time for her to reflect on the ever present sting of betrayal by those she holds most dear. Most of the way she had sobbed to herself in a corner. She cannot understand how everything had spiraled so far out of control. And she knew exactly who to blame.
Mara Tacofer.
Everything was blown to high holy hell when that faux-Valerie came to the capital and collided with Rutherford Gellar. A part of her wonders is this was all part of the plan. A clone of Gellar’s estranged granddaughter touting the biological spawn of Kimber Patten just happens to rep the Trade Federation? Replaying the facts in her head causes her to laugh through the tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. It’s completely ridiculous. Of course she wants to help the Gellar-Masterton’s. She never knew Valerie or Karen but she had counseled Kimber and grown very close to Melanie. Their saga was one for the ages, something that struck a personal chord in the tragedy of their often-times unwitting parts played out on a galactic stage.
And her brother? That bastard. How could he, of all people, believe she is capable of such hideous crimes? Garron should know better. What burns her up more than his disbelief is the magnitude of the allegations leveled against her. Nothing makes sense and with this, a massive shadow is now cast over her entire life. Everything she has ever done is called into question.
So many questions she cannot answer.
Once they touch down in Ambaril, Circe pulls her hood down and wanders out into the city. She walks until she has collected herself enough to approach two RSB agents standing on the street corner, chatting with one another. She pulls back her hood, letting the sun blind her eyes, as she speaks.
“My name is Circe Prescott and I am surrendering peacefully to the Republic authority.â€
*
Surface: Republic Security Bureau Headquarters: Director’s Office
Director Laird Drakos is impressed Counselor Kaytt Corinthos returned to him in such a humbled state. The edge had softened considerably as she attempts to spin some theory about the sheer coincidences and possibly deeper connections.
“That’s called good detective work, counselor. You know how it works.â€
“This is different,†she says, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. “Nothing is ever this cut and dry. Evidence just doesn’t appear out of thin air.â€
He glances at the consol lit up on his desk, a wry smile find its way onto his face.
“Apparently, suspects do.â€
“What do you mean?â€
“Circe Prescott turned herself in.â€
“Where?â€
“Almost a kilometer from the Ambaril Spaceport.â€
Kaytt scoffs, “Just like that? She wanders right into RSB custody?â€
“So it would seem. She is being brought into the precinct for processing. You were saying?â€
“You don’t find it the least bit odd that almost immediately after allegations by the Federation Ambassador are leveled at the Corporate Sector before the Republic Senate, all the evidence to prove it suddenly finds its way into your hands?â€
He narrows his eyes at her.
“We don’t deal in odd, counselor Corinthos. We deal in fact. And the fact is, your client’s genetic material was found on a murder victim who just happened to be a decorated Inspector of this office. The other facts include accounts in Circe Prescott’s name and documents with her signature on them. It’s difficult to overlook such glaring evidence as I’m sure you can imagine.â€
“You paint a picture of opportunity. What about motive? Neither of these women have any reason to do what they are being accused of.â€
“Currency, influence and power are considerable motivators. Women are not immune from their siren’s call.â€
Kaytt sighs, “I’m not asking you to discount anything until you’ve dug a little deeper. I feel like we’re just scratching the surface.â€
“Of what exactly?â€
“A much deeper hole.â€
Her com-link bleeps and she excuses herself, stepping away from his desk. It’s the Speaker’s office, requesting a meeting with Shale Apteen himself. Discretion is the order of the day. She agrees and clicks off, returning her focus to the Director.
“I’ve got a lead. Do me a favor?â€
“Since when do law enforcement and officer’s of the court do favors for one another?â€
“Extend me a professional courtesy.â€
“Shoot.â€
“Keep Prescott on ice until I return.â€
Drakos laughs heartily, “You’ve got to be joking! We want to know what she’s been up to and how it relates to Janessa Kain.â€
“And you will. You have your suspects in custody. All I’m asking for is a little time.â€
“To build your case to free them? Not a chance.â€
She shrugs, “Have it your way. She’ll just demand counsel without telling you shit but if you cut me some slack, I may be able to help you piece this mess together. You do want justice for Inspector Erbon, don’t you?â€
“Of course we do.â€
“Then help me figure out how deep this goes.â€
Admittedly, his curiosity is piqued. This case has many angles yet he is reluctant to trust a lawyer, especially one as savvy as Corinthos. Still, the possibility of collaring a bigger fish, one holding Circe and Janessa’s strings, is a powerful lure.
“You have an hour.â€
Kaytt nods, walking quickly back through the precinct and out into the busy streets of Ambaril. The Senate Hall looms before her. She takes a breath and quickens her pace.
There is no time to waste.
*
Surface: Republic Security Bureau Headquarters: Central Booking
The movements seem slowed, a reality distorted, as she is led through the precinct. Agents stop and stare as she passes. Someone even whistles. The restraints are tight, digging into her wrists but she doesn’t wince. She is led down a long corridor toward a secluded row of cells. The agent leading the way slows as they approach the last cell on the right. The doors slide open as the restraints are removed and she is thrown inside. Standing on the other side of the cell, looking both frantic and surprised, is Janessa Kain.
The cells doors slam closed behind them.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: RSB Headquarters
There is a tense standoff where both women stare at one another in complete silence. No one knows where to begin. It is Janessa who speaks first.
“How’s Garron? Is he alright?â€
“Oh,†Circe says, scowling. “I’m just fine, thank you.â€
“I’m sorry…it’s just…I was worried.â€
“Yeah, I’ll bet but clearly we have more important things to worry about aside from the state of my sorry yet momentarily safe brother. I hear you’ve been busy. How’s that murder rap going?â€
Janessa sneers, “About as well as those conspiracy charges against you.â€
“I conspired with no one.â€
“That’s funny because I didn’t kill anyone either. We are being set up. Accounts in your name, my hair on a murder victim, its ridiculous! The Federation is behind this.â€
“I’m guessing if you had proof of that you wouldn’t be in here.â€
“My lawyer is working on it.â€
Circe pulls off her tunic and falls onto one of the thinly padded cots.
“And who, pre tell, have you secured to defend you?â€
“Kaytt Corinthos.â€
“Really? She’s sharp. Think she’s got room for another client? Apparently, I’m loaded.â€
Janessa crosses the cell, hands placed firmly on her hips.
“Perhaps but you can start by telling me where you have been. The RSB has been all over my ass from the moment you took off with Rutherford Gellar. I hope it was worth it.â€
“We found the children,†Circe says quietly, glancing away. “If that means anything to you.â€
“You make me sound heartless.â€
“More like a sexually voracious opportunist, from what I hear.â€
“You don’t know me.â€
“I know of you,†Circe says. “That’s quite enough for me.â€
“We are both caught up in this so you can just get the hell over yourself. The Republic believes you staged the kidnapping to thwart the negotiations which should have cost the Federation their right to trading permits. Only it didn’t. They were granted in short order after the rousing speech from Ambassador Tacofer.â€
“How little you know.â€
“Enlighten me.â€
Circe’s dark stare is unnerving, “That wasn’t Ambassador Tacofer.â€
“I’m sorry, what now?â€
“It wasn’t her.â€
“I was there,†Janessa gasps. “It was calculated treachery at its finest and the Senate bought every word. After everything the Federation pulled in the past, they made the Corporate Sector out to be childish and petty."
Circe is about to stop her but Janessa is on a roll.
“The RSB has all these absurd theories about how Gellar’s sole purpose for coming here was to undermine the Federation from the start, using Garron’s connection to you to do it. Then there’s me, who they insanely believe was left behind to either cover for you or take the fall.â€
“And the slain Inspector? Where does he fit into all this?â€
Janessa sighs, pacing the length of the cell.
“When I went to Speaker Apteen after the hearing, I was so sure of the Sector’s innocence so I insisted the Republic investigate as well. They assigned this Inspector Erbon and that’s when the purchase order for the carrier surfaced with your signature all over it.â€
“Where did they get it?â€
“At first I thought it was manufactured by the Federation to solidify their case but then everything else started appearing. The media took it and ran, creating the vast conspiracy now blaring from every station. The RSB believes Erbon was close to something after he questioned me and I tracked him down and killed him.â€
Circe arches a brow.
“Did you?â€
“I told you I didn’t! I saw the photage. He was slashed to ribbons. There is no way I could have done that.â€
“Yet your genetic material was on the body.â€
“Much like your signature was on the dotted line. Don’t you see what’s happening here? The Federation is using us to screw to the Sector. They don’t just want those permits; they want the Sector out of the way entirely.â€
Circe marvels at the delusion, shaking her head.
“Are you so dense that you truly believe this stops with the Corporate Sector Authority? Don’t you know who these people are? The Gellar’s? The Masterton’s? Those name’s aren’t familiar to you?â€
Janessa scoffs, “Oh, I saw the movie, okay? High fashion, high drama, all in a Coruscant that was.â€
“It wasn’t just a movie. Maker Almighty, you are unbelievably narrow-minded. The scope is far vaster that you realize. Many on the periphery were pulled in and never made it out.â€
“Don’t be so theatrical, Counselor. You can end this by telling the RSB where you were.â€
“That may not be the best idea right now.â€
“Then at least tell me.â€
“Are you familiar with the phrase ‘plausible deniability?’â€
“Fine,†Janessa says. “Shut me out.â€
“I’ll settle for you shutting up.â€
She rears back, “Shut up?â€
Circe stands, staring her down.
“Yes, Janessa, just shut up.â€
Janessa slaps her. Circe stumbles, recovers then slaps her back. Janessa cries out, lunging forward. They collide and stagger across the cell, slamming against the bars. Circe swipes her hands away and shoves her back. Janessa careens in her heels, clawing wildly in the air, grabbing Circe’s hair and dragging her down too. They end up in a pile on the floor, screaming and slapping at each other.
In another part of the building, on the small desk monitor, Director Laird Drakos leans back in his chair and smiles.
-TBC
-
Ten years ago ?
Centerpoint Station
Saga Judec made his way to the executive suite to confront Alexander Winton
"You attacked Corellia"
"A necessary part of the plan, sir"
The argument ensues, and High Commander Saga Judec approached, pulling out his blaster now
"FORGET Corellia? Corellia is all we have! If you cannot grasp that, then you are no longer of service to me"
Winton glanced down at the blaster, his smile disappearing.
"Actually, Commander, it is you that are no longer of service to me"
Winton's hand reached out, and without touching Judec, the gun was knocked from his fist. Winton's second hand came up, half open, clenching slowly. Judec's body suddenly lifting off the ground, his hands reaching to his neck as he gasped for breathe.
"Trai....tor..."
Winton's smile returned
"The only person I've ever declared loyalty to, High Commander, is myself. Goodbye"
With a final clench of his fist, Winton pounded his hand downward. Judec's head jerked sideways in an unnatural fashion, then plummeted to the floor. No breathe, though a small amount of blood dribbled from his lips down onto his Confederation Uniform.
Winton stepped forward, head tilting as he looked at his handiwork.
? I suppose we should clean him up?
?Don?t? Adubell stepped out from behind a partition, black hair cascading down upon bare shoulders, her body hugged by a dark colored negligee outfit. ?I think he makes an excellent decoration?
Alexander turned to face her, admiring his paramour?s figure.
She turned toward him, a coy smile on her face.
?It?s a real shame ? he was quite useful alive. An excellent puppet, and a distraction to the Empire. It?s a shame I wasn?t allowed to play with him ??
Alexander stepped away from Judec?s body, toward Adubell.
?Now, my dear, I couldn?t have you ruining him. If I handed him over to you, he likely would have been turned into a cowering fool. I need him to be a prideful fool?
?Oh, you flatter me, Alex. Do you really think my sith powers are that strong??
?your sith powers ? along with other features you?ve been endowed with?
Adubell moves forward, subtly swaying and accentuating her hips
?Oh, I don?t have everything I could. I?m not immortal. Not like you?
?Not yet, but soon.?
?Apparently, those ?other features? of mine haven?t led you to trust me?
?If I trusted you, you wouldn?t be interested in me?
Adubell scoffed, mock offended, stopping her forward movement and placing her hands on her hips.
?Alexander Winton, are you implying that I am just using you?
He smiled back ?Just like I?m using you?
He drew forward, wrapping an arm around Adubell?s waist, pulling her into an embrace.
*****
Adubell is lounging, nude amidst the tangle of sheets, watching as Winton dresses.
?Have you thought about it, Alex??
?About what??
?The child?
He turned to face her, frowning.
?What makes you so certain there was a third??
?A man like you was meant to never stop procreating?
He scoffed
She shook her head, sliding her body up to a sitting position.
?Alex ??
He held up a hand
?If there is a third daughter, I will not be able to find her, nor do I want to. As far as I?m concerned, I don?t need any more children. Alexia, Karen. One was too aggressive, the other too weak?
?Both were sith, like me?
?Yes, well if either daughter had turned out to be more like you, she would have been my ally.?
?I could make sure that the third one is more like me, more like you?
?The child would still have the same blood that made Alexia and Karen failures?
?It?s not your blood that?s the failure, Alex. It was the upbringing. I could quash that weakness. Make the child strong, your true heir apparent?
?I don?t need an heir. I can live forever?
A distant siren interrupted the conversation. Alexander Winton glanced away from Adubell, a smile crossing his lips.
?It?s time?
He turned back down to his paramour
?You know where you need to be??
Adubell nodded, rising from the bed and moving to the closet, pulling out a simple jumpsuit, neutral in color and denomination ? no one would easily identify her as an enemy.
?I?ll be monitoring the surveillance cameras? She sounded bored saying it, and of course, she was ? she could fight better than almost any soldier on the station, and had argued with Winton that she should be allowed to assist in killing one of the remaining targets ? Mara, Karen, Melanie, or Dementat. He of course, had disagreed, and she had eventually acquiesced, but that didn?t make her happy about it.
?If anything happens unexpectedly here, I want to make sure that I can review the photage. A loss here would be quite a setback, and while I have patience, I?d like to avoid any mishaps. If it happens, make sure to get off the station and meet me at the rendezvous point.?
?If you die here on Centerpoint, you won?t be able to review the photage later?
?Ah, but you know, my dear, I cannot die. I have made sure that I will live forever?
With that, Alexander left the room, leaving Adubell to finish dressing
Present Day ?
Korriban
? ?What we pretend to be we often become.? -Darth Krayt
The lessons had changed. Through physical exertion, mental torment, Dahlia knew she was someone different. Or, as she had come to realize, she was not the person who she had been. She was still nobody.
The raw emotion of pure abandonment left her both stronger and more vulnerable. There were days she ended, weeping. And days she ended with a new gleam in her eye.
Adubell would ask who she was, and her response was always ?nobody? ? but Adubell could look past Dahlia?s facial expressions, see into her thoughts and feelings. Knew if ?Nobody? was the truth, or a lie. And if it was a lie, Adubell would spend the next hours breaking Dahlia down even more.
She had not seen sunlight in seemingly forever. There was some artificial light, but she learned to accept the darkness. It was a part of her, she was a part of it.
The tasks required of her were also changed. Less of the menial ?destroy this, sweep that? and moving on to stronger telekinetics ? lifting heavier and heavier objects. As soon as something became easy, the difficulty doubled. Able to lift a starfighter? Now lift two at once. Still can do it? Try doing it while having Korribanian ants swarming the body, biting, setting a burn throughout the flesh.
Her body too was stronger yet weaker ? over exerted, under nourished (supposedly, she had to get supplementation from the force itself), and yet she had muscles she had never had before. Not bulky, but her soft skin had hardened.
Broken down and rebuilt, each task caused her to rely more and more on the despair she felt, turn it into hatred.
Adubell would quote sith sayings to her, articulating the need to use emotions, yet she herself never seemed to show them. Such was a quandary that Dahlia one day dared to ask.
?Who is asking the question??
?A mere apprentice?
Adubell didn?t smile, but the lack of pain told Dahlia that she had not lied in the statement, had truly felt low enough.
Instead, there was the answer. Sort of.
?What are emotions??
?Emotions are a tool, to use?
?They are more than that, my young apprentice. They are the fuel of your power. And how does fuel work? It must be funneled. When fuels are burned, we don?t see what powers the machine. We see the waste ? a fire causes a chemical reaction, the heat is the part that escapes. The more emotion a sith SHOWS, the more of their powerful fuel they are wasting. My emotions remain within. I have them. I use them. But they are contained, and that makes it more efficient, more useful, more powerful?
?Don?t the jedi contain their emotions too??
?No ? the difference between the jedi and the sith is this. The jedi use their power to eliminate their emotions. The sith channel their emotions to increase their power. While we increase, they decrease. That is why the sith are always stronger, and will always win?
?But they don?t. They haven?t the Sith are in hiding, and the jedi are in strength?
?It requires many, many jedi to counter a sith. We haven?t lost, young apprentice. The jedi recruit and develop, dozens of padawans. And to destroy just one sith, they often must sacrifice them all. And still, we are here?
?As are they?
?They are here because of the betrayor.?
?Betrayor??
?Vader ? you know the tale, do you not??
?A powerful jedi, supposedly meant to bring balance to the Force. Became a sith under the Emperor, Darth Sidious, killed Sidious and himself to save his son?
?Were it not for that act, Darth Sidious would have destroyed the last of the jedi. He was betrayed?
?Do sith not believe in betrayal as part of its tenets??
?Sith believe that when an apprentice is strong enough, he will either be killed by his master, or kill his master. That is not betrayal, that is nature. Vader weakened himself out of love?
?Is love not an emotion?
?In Vader?s case, it was a wasted emotion. It could have made him stronger, but instead, it made him weaker. It killed him?
?For his son?
?So??
?Do the sith not believe in family loyalty??
?Family does not exist in the sith?
?But you are training me because of my father. If not for family, then why??
?It?s not about you, young apprentice. It?s about what you will become. And besides. You have no father. You are nobody, remember??
Dahlia was about to speak, but Adubell, lifted a hand, and she found herself spun and pinned painfully against a wall.
She turned and Adubell was gone, leaving her to her own thoughts.
TBC
-
Ten years ago ?
Corellian Deep Space: Near Centerpoint Station
Adubell remembered watching as Centerpoint Station collapsed in on itself, the people around her, dressed in blue correllian garb, cheering. She, for her part, clutched the data-disks that she had taken from the surveillance room when she heard the alarms go off. A part of her was fascinated by the destruction, watching as metal that had stood the test of time inverted in on itself because of a few stray acts by some crazy captain ? and of course, the arrogant miscalculation of Alexander Winton. That was where her thoughts mostly were, trying to sense him amid the carnage. She had seen on camera as he was defeated and reborn, again and again, and his final attack against Emperor Dementat, before she had to run. But she knew that Winton was not getting off of Centerpoint.
She knew her instructions ? rendezvous with the next reincarnation of him, and the plan would go from there. Alexander Winton would live forever. She would embrace him, and together, they would rebuild his empire.
Unless of course, Alexander Winton was wrong.
Present Day ?
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Halls of Justice, Court of General Jurisdiction in the Republic
?Calling now case number 20013-CF2-7083, Republic versus Janessa Kain, and case number 20013-CF2-7084, Republic versus Circe Prescott?
The Courtroom was packed to the brim. Normally, arraignment was not such a big deal, but here were the two most sensational defendants in the most juicy case in a long, long time. In anticipation, arraignment that day had been reassigned the largest courtroom in the Halls of Justice court building, and still, it was not enough.
Reporters, social bloggers, citizens, and legal scholars alike had waited through dozens of lesser crimes for the call.
Flashes seemed endless as photographs were taken of the two individuals, dressed in prison garbs, with hands and legs cuffed and shackled.
They were silent as they were moved behind the defense table by the marshals, who then stood protectively behind them ? They might be criminals, but they were under the care of the marshals, and the marshals would not let anyone ELSE get their hands on them.
The judge, noticed the increased courtroom activity, banging on his gavel several times to get quiet.
The courtroom clerk lifted his head from where he was typing.
?Please state your names for the Court?
?Janessa Kain?
?Circe Prescott?
?Miss Kain, you have been charged with one count of first-degree murder, three counts of obstruction of justice, two counts of fraud, and three counts of conspiracy to kidnap a young child. How do you plea??
?Not guilty?
?Miss Prescott, you have been charged with one count of conspiracy to commit murder, three counts of fraud, ten counts of embezzling, 2 counts of bribery, and three counts of conspiracy to kidnap a young child. How do you plea??
?Not guilty?
The clerk?s head disappeared behind the monitor as the judge spoke up.
?Both defendants have been called today to be arraigned on different but related charges, is that correct??
The government prosecutor, a young attorney assigned to deal with the more mundane task of arraignments that day, looked out of his league as he nodded his head.
?Partially, your honor. The counts of conspiracy are for the same crimes, and the murder and obstruction of justice charges are all inter-related?
?Will they be tried together or separately??
?We believe at this time that both defendants will be tried together, unless defense counsel can ascertain a conflict?
?Do defendants have counsel??
A stand-in attorney, only a bit older than the arraignment prosecutor leaned forward to the microphone at the podium
?Miss Kain says her attorney will be Kyatt Corinthos, and Miss Prescott says she is in the process of picking out an attorney?
The judge nodded, seeming to care little about the sensationalism of the case, and continuing with the normal routine.
?We will set a date for ascertainment of counsel. Please notify Miss Corinthos that her presence will be required at that time, as will whoever is Miss Prescott?s attorney. Due to the severe and compounding nature of these crimes, both defendants will be held without bond at the Ambaril penitentiary.?
Janessa Kain whispers something to the defense attorney who speaks into the mike.
?Your honor, due to the publicity of these cases, and these defendants, they request to be isolated from the prison population?
?I?m sorry counselor ? no special treatment for celebrities. Not with a murder charge. Next date for court will be in two weeks.?
The judge banged on the gavel, Kain and Prescott disappeared into the lockup, awaiting transport to the general prison, and the news reporters were in a frenzy.
TBC
-
Ten Years Ago ?
Centerpoint Station
A massive explosion has rocked the outer planet world of Naboo, collapsing the memorial dedicated to the Naboo war against the Trade Federation, over a generation ago. Naboo Security Forces believe it was the work of terrorists. Luckily, there were no reported injuries, as the memorial park was temporarily closed for maintenance work at the time of the explosion.
An interesting development from the explosion is the discovery of a massive cave-system underneath where the memorial had stood. Analysts are studying whether it was natural or man-made when the Trade Federation set up their base there. There are traces of metal and circuitry amid the rubble and rock, but it is unclear if they came from the infrastructure of the memorial itself, which included an old fashioned droid transmitter, also destroyed.
Naboo officials have yet to comment on if and how the memorial will be rebuilt. Further investigation is ongoing to find the perpetrators
Alexander Winton stared at the monitor, but was no longer paying attention as the galactic newscast moved on to some other insignificant detail of the galaxy.
Harte Secur.
Emotions coursed through Alexander Winton. Emotions he could barely describe. Emotions he did not wish to feel.
After all, emotions made one week. He did not need that facility. He had his others. Any sentimentality toward what that particular location had - sentiment was irrelevant, and dangerous.
No, emotion be left aside. There was a more concerning matter. Not that it had been destroyed, but that someone had known to destroy it. Someone knew what was there, and someone had purposely destroyed it.
Pressing a button, he summoned a minion to him. A servant, a slave. Whatever you wanted to call it.
The man entered.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want to run a status check of all of our droid creation facilities. I want visual confirmation that everything is proceeding as appropriate"
"Sir, wouldn't travel to those locations possibly reveal them"
"Possibly. But it may be they are already revealed. I insist that this be done, immediately, ahead of all other projects. Go, now"
The man left in a hurry, well aware not to trifle with Commander Judec's Director of Special Projects, a man who wielded almost as much power as the high commander himself.
Winton meanwhile turned to look out the viewport at the stars that surrounded Centerpoint. The droid facilities were all well hidden, most far from populated areas. Most were a complete secret to all but a scant few. If somebody knew about them, it was because the secret had somehow been revealed.
Emotions or not, whoever it was would pay.
TBC
Adubell stood at the edge of the fence, staring down at the crater that had formed from the explosion. Her face held no expression, but emotion filled her.
Sadness.
Anger.
Hatred.
Adubell had learned too late what Alexander Winton had already discovered before his death on Centerpoint ? someone had discovered him, and had successfully destroyed one after another of his droid facilities. Even though he knew what was happening, he still didn?t believe he could die. Winton had let his arrogance lead to his demise.
Her lover, her equal. She missed him desperately, the warmth of his skin against hers, the mental sparring as they squared off as equals. Her partner in crime.
That sadness was not the emotion she wanted, and she turned her attention to the other feelings. Anger and hatred against those who did this, who so thoroughly destroyed Winton. His second daughter, Karen, a kin-slayer. And the beautiful monstrosity, Mara Gellar.
Adubell had witnessed Karen?s death, and assumed Mara too had died on Centerpoint. Along with the others: Melanie, Dementat, Kimber, and of course, Kimber?s child. That was it. The four were dead. The prophesy lost.
Or was it?
Adubell reached out to the fence, hatred coursing through her blood to her fingertips, the simple protective grating splitting apart, and soon, the hole in the fence was large enough for her to pass. Slow, deliberate steps taken into the ruins of the memorial of Harte Secur. She continued walking, even as she heard shouts from behind her.
?Miss. Miss! You aren?t allowed to be there! This is a restricted area?
She stopped but didn?t turn, allowing the voice to grow closer.
?I?m sorry miss, but you can?t ??
Adubell abruptly turned, a soft glow in her eye as a hand came up. She could kill this pathetic creature, and for a moment, he had the uncomfortable look of his air passage closing up.
But Adubell did not murder him, instead moving a few fingers in front of his face, the man?s eyes fogging slightly.
?You do not want to stop me?
The man shook his head, as if confirming her statement
?I do not want to stop you?
?You want to lead me through the ruins?
?I want to lead you through the ruins?
?You are infatuated with me, and think it will impress me?
The man smiled now, his voice carrying a bit of confidence to it.
?I think it will impress you?
Adubell let out a slight smile as the man moved in front of her, leading her down through the rubble, using his security clearance to pass a series of two other checkpoints before they reached the cavern.
?See? Isn?t it impressive??
Adubell looked out at the mess of rock with the gaping hole, torn pieces of metal scattered about.
?Very impressive?
In the next moment, the man lay dead, a vibro-blade sticking out of his throat, the sounds of him gurgling his blood briefly following Adubell as she moved in among the ruins.
Eyes glanced over what had once been tubes, carrying Alexander and the Winton family remade bodies. Shattered glass, durasteel, charred flesh. It was the perfect place to meditate. Taking a seat among the carnage, she closed her eyes and began to channel her anger inward.
True identity is revealed to them, a test of will and a challenge of loyalty will spawn the tyrant and the idealist. One murder, one betrayal, tied to one sinner, one savior, and the one who lives but does not have life.
In the day of reckoning the daughter of darkness shall slay the beast and be consumed by her rage. Friend becomes foe becomes the second abomination. A tribulation of justice shall follow and of The Four only one can survive.
The One will bear a child out of true love, tempered and tainted by good and evil, dark and light that shall be baptized by the essence of the Force and hold power to give back what the Abominations took away.
Master and daughter of darkness together, a rule eternal, so long as the child does not live.
So it is written, so it shall come to pass.
The prophesy had been heard before, in different contexts, but now, Adubell saw it in an entirely new light.
Images swarmed of Karen, Melanie, Valerie, Kimber, Dementat, Mara, Alexander.
And then there it was, a clear picture, one she had been seeking out for months now.
A child, between three and four years old, with the red hair of a Winton.
And a name.
?Dahlia?
Adubell?s eyes opened, reinvigorated. There was a third Winton child, an heir to Alexander Winton. Dahlia would fulfill the prophesy, become the daughter of darkness, and become everything Alexander never had.
It was just a matter of time. And finding where the child was taken.
Present Day
?The Sith have no friends. Friends are weakness. There are only two categories of people for a sith: Servants, and Enemies?
?But you are not my servant?
?Precisely?
~conversation between The Lady Adubell and her Apprentice, Dahlia Winton
Korriban
?It is time you learn pain?
Dahlia felt certain that she already knew what pain was, her body sore, skin was blistered. But Adubell clearly had something else in mind.
?Not for you. For others. Compassion is a weakness that must be expelled. You must feel no remorse toward harming another. The only question is whether causing it or refraining from causing it will be to your greater advantage?
Adubell was brought to stand in what looked like a small boxing ring. There she stood, in the darkness, for several minutes, before one of the creatures, servants of Adubell, came forward, it?s ugly form standing a few feet before her, a look of devotion in his eyes.
?Torture the creature, but do not let him die. Not too soon, anyway?
Dahlia stared at the beast. Ugly, horrid creature. Kidnapper, tried to harm her back on Chandaar. She could already feel her blood begin to boil, mind going back to a previous training. The anger must be channeled, not wasted. She focused her contempt, feeling it move within her, up her legs, through her belly, up her torso and to her arms.
She felt it, the loathing, crackling at her fingertips, and lifting her hand, she pointed at the beast, her voice a hoarse whisper, but strong.
?Pain?
She felt the energy expel from her finger, closing the space between her and the monstrosity, watching as it fell to the floor, beginning to writhe as she continued pointing the accusing finger at it.
It felt good. Justified. She wondered if she could kill it like this, put a little more into her anger and push a little harder.
That was when the creature changed. Even amidst the pain, it managed to transform, it?s body taking a very different shape.
Dahlia?s adopted father, Rutherford Gellar.
So startled was she, that Dahlia?s hand dropped, the weapon of the Force disappearing as she took a step back.
?Again, apprentice. I didn?t tell you to stop?
She didn?t start again though, staring down at Rutherford?s face. She felt tears in her eyes.
Then SHE felt the pain again, finding herself doubled over on the floor as Adubell struck her down with her own powers.
?You hesitate because of sentiment. A weakness. There is no one deserving of sentimentality. This foul creature most of all. Stand and do as you must?
The pain stopped for her and she slowly stood, turning again to the image of her adopted father. More tears. Sadness, betrayal.
Tears of hurt, turning to tears of anger. Turning to tears of hate.
Don?t waste the emotion, use it
The tears dried and her eyes began to change, a soft glow as pupils widened, consuming.
Fingers again outstretched as the Force coarsed through her, like electricity ? and then, like electricity, leaping from her accusing fingers at the creature before her, stronger than before.
She wanted to kill it, but knew better. The creature had to live to feel paid. That was its purpose, the point of the lesson.
Rutherford?s face disappeared to that of her adopted mother, Celeste Masterton, yet now, Dahlia was focused such on her hate, that the change didn?t even phase her.
It was more of this, feeding off of her hatred, pouring it into the creature as, despite its self-discipline, cried from the agony.
Dozens, if not hundreds of images stood before her as victim. Her adopted parents, the servants of the family household, friends at school.
Then there was Dane, her adopted brother, and she hesitated. Briefly. Then she remembered that Dane was favored over her ? Dane had been saved, while she had been abandoned ? and the strength of her attack doubled.
When Gemma?s face replaced Dane?s Dahlia was shaking from exhaustion, but now, she was determined, even obsessed with causing the creature pain.
It was Gemma?s face and voice that let out a final cry before it died, the image shrinking back into the ugly monster it truly was.
Dahlia?s attack finally ceased, her body shaking from the effort of the attack, but she turned to Adubell, eyes cold with anger.
?Next time, I hope it looks like you?
Adubell smiled
?Good?
TBC
-
Corellia
Low Orbit: Command Platform
Melanie's voice remains even, "The High Commander is taking a considerable risk harboring us. It could have dire consequences for Corellia but the Confederation forces have proved to be a
formidable opponent. Emperor Dementat will be seeking revenge for what happened at Duro and come here looking to exact it. The Confederation will be ready."
"And if it's not enough?" Seneca says.
She turns to the Counselor, "That's where you come in, Circe."
"Me?"
"Yes," Melanie says softly. "You must leave Corellia and regroup with the Republic. Make them aware of our situation. The time could come where we need their help
and I want you to be waiting for the call."
The Counselor's eyes are wide, "I...don't want to leave you."
"You've helped us tremendously, Circe. You were able to reach Kimber when many of us could not. Your wisdom fortified her for what is come. Now, I need you to help prepare the Republic if they
are to have any chance of helping to restore peace to this galaxy."
She folds her hands and nods, "I'll do my best."
"Thank you and good luck," Melanie says, turning back to the others. "Agent Cirque, get ready to move out with Carlson when the time comes. I need to wrap up a few
things on the surface but will meet you both there."
Seneca nods and beings to pack up their things. Melanie departs, leaving Kent staring at Counselor Prescott as she places items into her bags. He moves to his portable consol, taps a few keys and ejects the
datacard. Then he moves to her side. She glances up, startled. They had grown closer in their time on the platform and while he could be irrational and prone to outlandish theories, Carlson was actually kind of
charming. He takes her arm and places the datacard in the palm of her hand.
"Take the story. In case I don't make it. It needs to be told."
Circe frowns, "Kent..."
"Don't. Just go."
She blinks, stuffing the datacard in her bag. She nods to Agent Cirque, lets her eyes play across Kent's face one last time before leaving the room.
Ten Years Ago ...
Circe had returned to the Republic, in time to find that Corellia was under siege by the Empire. It was not long after that news reached the Republic of the battle and destruction of Centerpoint.
Most in the Republic were elated. Dementat had been a huge threat, and the Confederation's expanding borders and military machine seemed almost as menacing. Now, both were in ruins.
Circe was not as happy. In fact, she found herself in a whirlwind of grief. Melanie. Kimber. Even Kent Carlson. She had left them, and she lived, and they died. She wasn't the greatest fighter, but perhaps if she had
stayed with them, instead of listening to Melanie, she would have survived.
She would find herself cradling the datacard with Kent's story, the story of the Four girls who had become celebrities and tragedies. And as she would hold it, she would cry herself to sleep.
****
At the suggestion of a few fellow counselors, and even her brother, Garron, Circe took a leave of absence from her work. She wanted to get out of the city, visit other places, clear her head, and heal.
Sitting in the shuttle, deciding where to go, there was one place that she felt she had to visit, to pay tribute to the girls, all four of them, whose story she carried with her everywhere.
Hesperidium
Adubell found herself in a setting quite unfamiliar to her. Growing up, she remembered living almost as an urchin. As a teenager, she often found herself awake more by night than by day, seeking out frivolous thrills
and highs to find meaning. Then, when she began her life as a sith, and through her time with Alex, she found the comfortable setting she loved - the darkness, and the cold sense of steel floating through space.
Hesperidium, however, was a paradise world, sunny, warm, bright, colorful.
Adubell hated it the moment she set foot on land. Yet it was here that her search had to begin. She didn't know where the Winton child could be, but after finding the Winton residences on Naboo and Byss destroyed, this was the best place, in her mind, to try to pick up the trail.
Bolerathon Tower. Built by Masterton and Winton together. Yet it was Winton who left his mark, Adubell running a polished fingernail over the giant W that marked it as part of the Winton estate.
The doors were locked but Adubell had no difficulty getting in, disabling the security with a swipe of her hand. The tower would be less secure in the future, but at the moment, it wasn't entirely clear who actually owned the facility, as Karen Winton had left no publicly known living heir.
The lift, like the tower and surroundings, was too luxurious for Adubell's taste, and she couldn't wait to be rid of this place, on the trail of the child.
That was the thought going through her head as she exited the lift, and turned toward the Winton side of the penthouse. But then, she felt something, a presence, weak, tired, but there. She was not alone here, and she turned away from the W in front of her to the cursive M marking the opposite side of the tower, hand lowering to her belt, grazing the metal cylinder weapon she carried there as she began to move forward. She preferred to not be disturbed, after all, and certainly could not afford to be discovered.
The Masterton suite entrance hung slightly open and Adubell pushed the door wider.The room was well furnished, comfortable, but Adubell no longer was paying any attention to the scene. Her attention focused solely on the sad young woman who was sitting on the couch, staring at a photograph.Circe Prescott's eyes were bloodshot, as she glanced up with a strange, curious expression.
"Who are you"
Adubell smiled, recognizing the woman. A Republic Counselor, yes, but also one who had been in close contact with Melanie Masterton and Kimber Patten just a few weeks ago.
Adubell's hand lifted swaying ever so slightly as she used the Force to push into Circe's thoughts.
"I'm a friend. You can trust me, Circe. I'm going to make it all better"
Circe Prescott smiled and nodded.
Present Day ...
"I can feel your anger. It gives you focus, makes you stronger."
-Darth Sidious
Korriban
Yet again, Dahlia was transformed.
She had learned to endure pain upon herself.
She had learned the value of causing pain in others.
She remembered an old jedi saying 'fear was the path to the dark side,' but in fact, that was only a half truth. Fear was how when fell from grace. Pain was how one made the trip and came out stronger. She had grown used to the pain. Physical. Emotional. It didn't faze her anymore. What was a scratch? A cut? A scar? A bruise? Just superficial markings, and Dahlia could transcend them. She had to, for that was the only way to succeed.
That didn't mean pain never hurt. Even after accepting the necessity of pain, she still was subjected to it on a regular basis.
With a growing mastery of the proper mental state, Dahlia was, for the first time in her training, actually being taught a skill.
She stood before Adubell with a stick in her hand, about a meter in length, and cylindrical. The tip of the stick had a small stinger, as did the matching stick held by the Sith lady.
"Before we begin to fight, we bow at each other"
Adubell leaned forward slightly, and Dahlia, in return bowed her head.
She felt the stick impact her forehead as she fell backward.
"Never lower your eyes to an enemy"
Dahlia looked up, grabbing her stick and swinging it hard toward Adubell, who easily grabbed it, about an inch before the stunner, yanked it from Dahlia?s hand, and flipped it around.
"Never confuse stupidity with the anger you need"
Dahlia's eyes bore daggers into Adubell, who threw Dahlia's staff to the ground.
"Do you know how to fight with a weapon, apprentice? A weapon is both used to attack and prevent attack against you. You will, in time, learn to predict the motions of the other in a battle, just as the Force allows you to see things before they happen. This will make you a formidable foe. Today though, we focus on the simple use of the basic weapon."
For hours, Dahlia learned how to parry, thrust, block, lunge, often feeling the sting of Adubell's weapon, and never once planting a hit on the teacher.
At day's end, she was again limping to her cell, and left alone in the darkness. But her day was not done.Sitting cross-legged on the slab of metal that was her bed, she began to focus her thoughts, Gathering all the reasons she sought vengeance, and how others had wronged her. She could feel the Force flowing through her, strong, hot, angry. She focused her hatred, first on one wound, then on another, using that loathing to heal her body. She had to be careful, disciplined - if ever she found too much relief, her hatred would dwindle, and the wound would remain unhealed. She had to remember, as the injury fixed itself, that it was not the injury that was bothering her, it was both her own failure: to have killed her teacher, and her teacher's failure to have finished teaching her so that she would not be injured.
It was those thoughts that allowed her body to heal. Allowed her to be prepared for the next day of torture and teaching. Allowed her to grow as a sith.
**********
Adubell watched the camera, an evil smile on her face.
Dahlia was disciplined in a way Alexia and Karen never were. That was why she was already growing strong, already able to use the Force, to channel the dark side. That was how she would be perfect as a tool of vengeance.
Alexander would be so proud.
TBC
-
Ten Years Ago ...
The guilt never entirely went away. She always felt like she had wronged Melanie, and Kimber, that she could have done something else to keep them alive. But Circe found that she had made a remarkable recovery. She didn't cry, the way she used to. And she had decided, in the back of her mind, that she would do anything she could to help the family of Melanie, Kimber, and Valerie if she ever had the opportunity. With that mindset, she was able to return to work, a respected counselor of the Republic.
But there were times when she was still struck with her guilt - with feelings of helplessness, almost unable to function at all. When that happened, she would go to her apartment and do the one thing that soothed her.
There was a projector of the galaxy. It was a rather old model, to be sure, from before the Clone Wars. She would lift it up into the air, and it would activate, turning her apartment into a place among the stars. She would get lost in the small twinkle of lights that circled her, and be calmed. She found that this also helped her sleep, and in fact, she would often not remember dozing off, simply waking the next morning, in her bed, refreshed and alert.
It was a truly wonderful gift, the projector, given to her by her friend. Circe would shake her head, trying to remember the name of the friend who gave it to her, but the name slipped her tongue. All Circe was certain of was that it was a very, very good friend.
***********************
Adubell luxuriated in the developing relationship with Circe Prescott. Circe was an individual, already growing in influence in the Republic Counselors Division - and more importantly, she knew where the Winton child was. As Adubell had suspected, Dahlia Winton had been whisked away, and now dwelt somewhere in the Corporate Sector, under the guise of a daughter of Rutherford Gellar.
It seemed poetic, really.
But gleaning that information was just the start of Circe's usefulness. Circe's weakened mental state had made her very susceptible to the Force, and Adubell began transforming Circe into a tool, and a criminal, all without her knowledge. Soft whispers of the Force, and Circe began shifting credits between accounts, hers and several others, slowly making purchases Adubell did not have the authorization to make.
Adubell would push the dark side on Circe, make her feel despair, guilt, then use the 'gift' she had given her to further command her.
It was just a few months later, and Circe was firmly under the employ of Korrb Security. One day, she would be the vehicle of destruction, and a scapegoat, allowing Adubell to seek her revenge on the enemies of her dead lover. One day. For now, Adubell continued to lurk in the shadows, ever mindful of the greatest lesson Alex ever taught her.
Patience.
Present Day ...
"Conflict forces one to better oneself. It forces change, growth, adaption, evolution? or death."
―Yuthura Ban[src]
Korriban
Dahlia swung the staff horizontally, contacting the weapon of her opponent, the Sith Lady Adubell, who parried and swung back with a high stroke, knocking Dahlia's staff wide, followed by a thrust forward.
But Dahlia saw the second strike coming, moments before it happened, aided by the Force and her hatred for this woman. Before the staff hit she flipped backward through the air, landing and promptly striking out with her own weapon again.
Adubell responded by pressing forward, feinting, then spinning around to strike Dahlia's side. A moment too late, Dahlia had her staff in position, but she felt the sting of the weapon against her left arm.
"You are dead, apprentice"
Dahlia begged to differ, dropping her sore left arm to her side while swinging with the staff in her right. Just as Adubell prepared to block, Dahlia held back, bringing her saber down below the arc she had been aiming for, and slamming the point into Adubell's wrist.
The stinger buzzed, and Adubell winced, the staff in her hand instinctively dropping to the ground.
"A dead woman cannot hurt me, apprentice"
Dahlia had a rare defiance as she swung the blade at the now unarmed Adubell.
"I wasn't dead"
Adubell flipped backward, giving her a foot or so space between her and Dahlia
"You were struck"
"in an arm - I didn't need that arm. But you've now lost your sword hand"
Dahlia lifted her blade high closing the distance between them.
Adubell, lifted fingers - from the struck hand - waved them slightly. Adubell's dropped staff lifted a few inches in the air, connecting with Dahlia's legs and she tripped forward, crashing into the dirty floor, her own staff flying from her hands. A moment later, she felt the sting on her back.
"Dead, apprentice"
"You cheated"
"There is no cheating, apprentice"
"You didn't have that hand"
"I was a new opponent. Never assume your enemy is disadvantaged until they are dead. You sacrificed your arm too quickly - what happens when the other is hit? You will have to face many enemies, apprentice, and unless you'd like to look like Darth Vader, you need to tighten your fight."
Dahlia felt the taste of dirt in her mouth, could feel it sticking to her scruffed hands, on scabbed knees. She had finally gotten a hit on Adubell, and now, here she was, lost again.
She focused her thoughts on her fallen staff, lifting it with her rage and sending it careening toward Adubell's back.
Adubell, for her part, turned and parried the weapon aside, but as she did, Dahlia shifted her weight forward, onto those hands, flipping her body up and around, straightening legs out, and kicking Adubell hard in her turned back. The Sith woman regained her footing, turning to face Dahlia who was now standing with her staff back in her hand, eyes burning as she moved in to strike.
"I'm a new opponent. Deal with me"
Dahlia came on at her with a fury, giving her strength that made her movements quicker, even though her technique was imperfect. Adubell found herself blocking more that striking, stepping back foot after foot while Dahlia attacked.
Staffs collided, and Adubell reached out with a hand, pushing with the Force and sending Dahlia hard back against a wall - only as Dahlia flew backward, she managed to spin herself, landing at a stand near the rock instead of against it. She regained her stance as Adubell came at her, and the battle continued. Thrust, parry, feint, swing.
Adubell would comment occasionally on the technique, but now, it was a fight to see who would win.
Dahlia slammed her staff into Adubell's, and Adubell's staff went wide, but as Dahlia moved in for the killing strike, Adubell reached out her hand and struck Dahlia, hard, with Force lightning, sending the teenager back and shaking in pain, until she was able to bring up her staff to block some of the impact.
As soon as Adubell stopped, Dahlia stood again, smoke still slipping off her injured body as she approached, bringing her own fingers out to hit Adubell with her own fury of lightening.
A thunderstorm ensued, weapons forgotten on the ground by both, before Dahlia broke off the attack, weak, tired, and in pain. She Force pushed Adubell aside, giving her the moment she needed to regain her strength, grabbing her staff through the Force and bringing it back to her, spinning around
Just in time to feel Adubell plant her staff in Dahlia's back, hard.
"Now, apprentice, you are dead. The lesson is over, go to your cell"
Dahlia's weapon dropped from her hand and she turned to face Adubell.
"You enjoy this, don't you? torturing me?"
"I do, apprentice, but that's only a side benefit. Why? are you feeling defeated? You can always quit, apprentice, and then be nothing, only by choice"
"You never let me know if I improve"
"You don't need encouragement, apprentice. When you have it right, you'll be ready. Until then, you are dead"
Adubell waited there as Dahlia turned and walked away, limping slightly.
She was getting better, a better fighter, more command of her powers. But she was still young, still a teenager. Adubell knew that Dahlia would spend the night nursing her wounds, feeding her hatred into her power. When she was older, more mature, Dahlia would be unstoppable.
That of course, was the idea.
TBC
-
Thirty Years Ago ...
Thyferra
The Healing House
Screams were heard echoing through the healing house.
"Push, my dear, push"
In one of the chambers, surrounded by a handful of healers, the woman's legs were spread, her knees lifted, sweat dripping down, and she grunted in the pangs of labor.
A few were aiding her, holding her hand, or ready to receive the child. A few others stood nearby, murmuring their concern.
"She is losing a lot of blood"
"I don't know if she or the children will make it..."
They chanted their chants, and provided her with the healing substance, bacta, the basis of of their order, and also of the vast wealth of corporate Thyferra.
The woman was shaking from effort, pale as a ghost from her turmoil, but finally, she was rewarded with the shrill sound of a baby's cry.
"One more"
She felt so weak, but she did what she had to, pushing again, as hard as she could, even as she felt herself draining.
"Too hard ..."
"You can do it, my dear... you are almost there"
The second child came, and the healer's set to work, trying to stop the bleeding. The mother turned her head sideways to look at the children.
A healer drew them close, so she could see them, at least see them for that brief moment.
"Do you have names for them, my dear?"
"Adubell ... and Nevylinn"
The healer smiled, but it was a sad smile, as the woman lost consciousness.
They worked through the night, but she never awoke.
And Adubell and Nevylinn became orphans.
Present Day ...
"It is our goal to be stronger, to achieve our potential and not rest upon our laurels. We are the seekers, not the shepherds."
―Yuthura Ban
Korriban
Learning how to fight had never been something Dahlia anticipated for her life. She was a socialite, loved shopping and wearing designer clothing, and hearing the latest gossip.
But as she got better, she found she enjoyed the fight. Enjoyed striking a hit. Enjoyed inflicting pain on an enemy. For the most part, her opponent was still the lady Adubell, but she was also tasked to fight some of the creatures that dwelled in these caves, forbidden to use other force tactics so she could develop her skills better.
She had also changed weapons. The staffs that had been used felt comfortable in her hand when she was told to use a more off balance device - it had a heavy handle, and a thin, ultralight 'blade' that was electrified along its entire length.
"A lightsaber has no weight in the blade - you must learn to wield a weapon where the blade essentially doesn't exist. The balance changes"
Dahlia was growing impatient to use a real lightsaber, her confidence in her abilities had grown so. She dared address Adubell with the demand.
"You are not ready"
"You are holding me back. I can deal with the consequences myself"
"Stupid apprentice - you don't understand, do you? So many before you - so many sith have made the sacrifice, marring their bodies to become sith. But that option is not available to you. You must remain intact, your beauty, your body must remain unmarred if you are to be as potent a weapon as you are destined to be. I won't let your foolish arrogance get in the way of that"
Dahlia was about to quip that Adubell didn't seem to have any deformity in her figure as part of her 'sacrifice' but thought better of it. Instead, she fought harder with the new weapon, practicing even outside of her sessions with Adubell, even when she was dead tired.
Dahlia didn't need sleep - she could feed on the Force for nourishment, replenishment of energy. After Adubell left her for the day, bruised and broken, she would take the staff and practice swinging it in her cell for hours on end, letting anger, fear, aggression pulse through her veins, into her arm, and the weapon itself. It was an extension of her, a tool to be used, much like the people at her school, her adopted parents, the minions of the cave, and Adubell herself. All were tools that assist her in achieving domination.
**********************
Days, maybe even weeks or months pass and Dahlia's fighting is more refined, more aggressive, more thorough than ever before. Dahlia isn't sure how long it has been. She hasn't seen sunlight since her captivity began. She just knows she is ready. Knows in a way that she didn't know when she first made the request.
And Adubell seems to know it as well.
Dahlia approached the sparring ring, drawn in the dirt of the cave, Adubell standing in the center. The dim lighting is suddenly pierced by a new color, a new glow as Adubell draws out the saber, igniting the blade, and holding it up.
"It is time, apprentice"
The blade was deactivated and the weapon thrown at Dahlia, who reached out with the Force and grabbed it, looking down at the weapon, examining its contours.
"One day, when you are ready to be a warrior of the sith, you will forge your own weapon. But for now, this will suffice. Today, you face a new opponent, one that has no fear and no remorse. Your job is to destroy it before it kills you. And be warned, this creature will not stop until you are dead or it is destroyed"
Dahlia glanced up, a look of curiosity on her face
"It?"
As if in response, Adubell stepped aside, and then Dahlia heard the hard march of metal on the ground, and the glow of two red orbs drawing closer.
Dahlia ignited the lightsaber, giving it a few swings to get the feel of it as she looked ahead and her opponent drew closer.
Into the sparring circle, the droid appeared. Tall and imposing, carrying an electro staff that buzzed to life.
"A battle droid?"
"Not just any battle droid, apprentice - this was the model that Phage was based on. You know who Phage was?"
Dahlia nodded, recalling some horror stories of the droid that ran amuck some 12 years ago.
"This is an IG-100 MagnaGuard, first designed during the Clone Wars as personal guards of General Grievous. And trained to fight the jedi and kill those who are armed with the Force. Don't die, apprentice. You are too valuable"
Adubell disappeared into the shadows, and the magnaguard droid lept forward, weapon poised in a killing strike.
*******
The battle seemed endless. The magnaguard never tired, and Dahlia had been on the defensive most of the duel. Every time she struck, it countered, and she was inflicted with a whole series of new bruises. She called on the Force to strengthen her, feeding herself anger to counter the fatigue she was feeling as the enemy's onslaught continued.
The droid was merciless, that was to be sure, and the electro-staff deadly in its own right. Dahlia blocked, then the droid twisted, fast, knocking the lightsaber from her hands, and Dahlia watched as it deactivated, flying to the ground a few feet away.
The droid immediately followed with another strike, bearing down hard, and Dahlia raised her hands, in an almost defensive gesture. But it wasn't blocking the attack. With a hard gaze at the machine, Dahlia pushed out.
The machine was her enemy. It tried to hurt her. She would hurt it. Cause pain. suffering.
The droid's weapon stopped a hands-width away from Dahlia's face, electricity crackling from it's end. Dahlia could feel the heat. But that warmed her even more. Made her blood boil.
inch by inch, the weapon was pushed upward by an invisible force - by THE invisible Force.
Then, with an almost savage grunt, Dahlia threw her hands upward, and the electrostaff rammed upward into the creature's face, piercing through metal and ripping through the other side of its fabricated skull.
Dahlia was standing now as the droid reeled back, damaged but not defeated - an IG-100 was designed to survive even a decapitation. It was struggling to pull the weapon out of its face, but Dahlia wasn't giving it the time it needed. Without so much as a glance behind her, the lightsaber was waved forward, ignited midair, and slashed through the belly of the droid. Hand grabbed the hilt and with a quick spin, the droid's arms and legs were sliced off, then the ruined head, and finally a piercing jab through the falling torso.
Even as the droid fell, Dahlia felt on a roll and she spun around,weapon still activated, intent on finishing off her tutor.
But the red blade collided with a matching one as Adubell stood, a smirk on her face, holding her own saber steady.
"Your attacks are still too predictable, apprentice - only when you are desperate do you have the strength of mind to surprise your opponents. That being the case, you must always feel desperate, or you will die before you've been cornered."
Adubell lept backward, deactivating her weapon.
"Come - you have learned the art of fighting, and there is more practice to come. But now, it is time for you to learn more - to see what potential lies for you in the dark"
Dahlia wanted to attack Adubell again, but after a moment, curiosity got the better of her. She wanted to learn, wanted to know what more there was, what powers she could possess. Her weapon deactivated, but held firmly in her hand.
"It is time, Apprentice, for you to enter to the hall of the sith"
TBC
-
Present Day ...
"Information is a commodity. It can be traded, sold, and purchased. And in the end, credits are only as useful as the secrets they can buy."
―Bane
Korriban
Dahlia had seen very little of the cave that had been her home and prison these several months. She knew her cell intimately - every contour and corner, and every panel that had replaced the ones she had damaged or destroyed. Each day she returned to her confined quarters, they looked as good as new, repaired by the captors who kept in the shadows.
She also had seen the training area - a massive cavern, filled with rock formations, forming a forest of rock. Perfect for the techniques she had practiced. She had not seen the entrance, unconscious when she was first brought here, and she had never seen beyond the bend, where the shadows seemed to be even darker.
As Dahlia followed her tutor deeper into the cave, she pictured to herself what life was like outside. SUN - it had been so long since she had seen natural light. Looking down, she saw her skin was paler than it had ever been, colored only by the bruises of her encounters. What would it be like to return to the world of light?
"You need to focus, apprentice. No time for day dreaming, and your thoughts are screaming for all of us to hear"
Dahlia blinked, looking forward at the back of her tutor's head. Apparently, her mind had been read, and so effortlessly, that Dahlia hadn't noticed.
"You said we - there are other sith here?"
"of course, apprentice"
"But I thought there could only be two at a time?"
"Ah, so you did learn something in that expensive school you attended. The rule of two was established by Darth Bane, that at any time, there is only one sith lord and his or her apprentice. That rule, while generally followed, is not the case right now. Besides, the ones that hear you are not current sith. They are the sith lords of the past. Show some reverence to them, apprentice - their power is strong in these halls"
It was then Dahlia truly began to feel that creepy sensation, the tickle on the back of her neck, like being watched, followed. She stretched out her senses, feeding it with her apprehension, but whatever presence was there - and it clearly was - remained invisible to her.
"You cannot see them because they are everywhere."
Adubell raised her hand and a loud metallic groan was heard. A dim light cackled through a growing crack as massive metallic doors opened to reveal a long hall. Dahlia shielded her eyes as the light grew stronger and they moved forward into the chamber.
Along both side walls, torches were lit, flames flickering and dancing and casting shadows across Dahlia's face. It looked as though the entire room was alive. In fact, it FELT as though the room were alive, filled with a malice that was almost tangible.
When they entered, the doors creaked shut behind them.
The uneasiness grew. Adubell stopped, and Dahlia stood still. She felt it, a strange pressure, on the back of her brain.
Adubell turned to face Dahlia, giving her appearance a quick look before turning again and falling to her knees in a submissive bow.
Dahlia had a thought run through her head - now was her chance, Adubell was down on the ground, completely vulnerable - kill her and be done with it - but the pressure on the back of her head quelled that thought, and Dahlia too, fell to her knees.
"Oh mighty lords, spirits of the past, show us your power, grant us your wisdom, guide us in our endeavors"
The shadows from the torches seemed to flicker in response, the shadows growing - and then breaking free of where they were cast on the walls. Shadowy figures seemed to dance around them, ghosts of the past, taking form as walking, flying silhouettes.
A booming voice filled the room, as one shadow, tall and imposing seemed to walk toward them.
"Rise, Lady Adubell - you have done well with this one. And rise, daughter of darkness - you have much yet to learn"
Adubell stood, and Dahlia, hesistant at first, stood as well.
The shadow's mouth opened as it spoke.
"A time of ascension is close at hand. For millenia, we have waited for one to arise. And often, so disappointed. Lord Sidious was close, but grew arrogant. If he had succeeded, the Sith would have ruled, and the jedi would be a distant memory. But no, it was not to be.
Then came another family, a family whose blood was strong in the force. So much potential. Alexia. Dahlia. But one was too unstable, and the other, too weak. But the Force runs strong in the Winton blood, and there is yet one who has what her sisters did not. Dahlia Winton, Daughter of Darkness - we have seen your coming for a long time."
Dahlia was not sure what to say, so she remained silent, all the while wondering what these creatures, these ancient sith wanted of her.
"You were endowed, young sith, with the powers of your sisters, and the cunning of your father. And we have watched as you have shed the softness of your youth, the weakness of your upbringing. You have become a weapon, tempered in this land of our power. And soon - soon you will be ready to be set loose on the galaxy, to claim it as your own, to claim it for the sith.
But first, daughter of darkness - first you must gain knowledge, must understand the limitless power you can possess, the ways to mask yourself before our enemies, to accept yourself as the vessel of darkness that you are meant to be."
A shadowed hand reached forward as a clenched fist. Wrist turned slowly, the shadowy cloud opened, revealing in the shadow's hand a ball, red-hot, like fire.
"Come, Daughter of Darkness - embrace the flame, and the darkness. come to know the truth. And with it, become unstoppable"
Dahlia stared at the ball, feeling its heat emanate. And she took a step forward. Then another, her hand reaching out until she finally grasped her hand around the ball.
Instantly, she felt the heat, the burn, the pain, nerves over loaded as pain signals shot through her body to her brain. But she did not scream, she did not cry. She stared transfixed at the stone she grasped, pressing her fingers tighter against it, seeing steam rising from her flesh.
She heard a rumble, a roaring sound, quiet at first but getting louder and louder and louder. The room began to spin, and the pounding in her head was heavier and heavier. It felt like her whole body was on fire, and all of the shadows and light in the room began to circle around her, toward her, as if being sucked into her very being.
Images flashed before her very mind, comprehensible at first - images of sith battles of ages, of ancient sith lords, of her sisters, her parents, of wars and weeping. But they grew faster and faster, the heat and pain growing as they began to flash too rapidly for her to comprehend, until all she saw were swirls of fire and shadow.
Involuntarily, her mouth opened and a loud wale escaped, until she felt suffocated by the shadows that had drawn close to her.
The light was out, and Dahlia felt as if she was blanketed in the darkness - The red hot ball had shattered within her hand, and the room was suddenly cold.
She was alone. But she was changed, again changed. She felt a strength, a power inside her like nothing before. The things she KNEW made her confident in a way her prior training had not instilled in her.
And she knew too, most importantly, her role. She was the Daughter of Darkness - and the infamous Persephonea Prophesy was about her. She could see the words in the back of her head, the complete, unubstructed. It was her mission, her task, her quest, to fulfill the prophesy.
And destroy anyone who stood in her way.
-
Present Day ...
"Are there techniques to teach me?"
"Not techniques so much as awareness. Technique is for apprentices. You know all you need to know. It's within you. You only have to become aware of it and embrace it."
- Lumiya
Korriban
Dahlia awoke from her slumber. Though in truth, she had not slept, not really slept, since the day she had accepted herself. She didn't need it. In the same way, she didn't really need food.
Food. Sleep. They were for mortals, and she was anything but mortal. Instead, she fed off of the the Force, the power that emanated from the cave. the darkness filled her, and sustained her.
What Dahlia did not desire in food and rest, she craved in knowledge, and in that, she was insatiable. From the moment she awoke anew, she thirsted to test what she had learned, the knowledge instilled by the Sith, and to learn more, and more, the secrets of the ancient order, every last scrap that was buried in this darkened place.
Adubell, for her part, indulged Dahlia in the craving - no longer confined to that cell, she spent endless hours in the deeper parts of the cave, and Adubell had revealed rooms filled with the artifacts of the sith, from ancient weapons to the ever powerful sith holocrons.
And Adubell tested her, relentlessly.
"If you are to fulfill your destiny, apprentice, you must be able to hide your essence. You have grown more powerful, but you emanate the power of the dark side, like a beacon. You must conceal it"
And they practiced - games of hide and go seek, where Adubell would find, and punish Dahlia for failing to conceal her presence. But the pain fed her now, and while she was certain that Adubell would soon die at her hand, in the meantime, the training allowed Dahlia to learn the arts of the sith, to grow in knowledge and skills.
Feeding off of the power of the dark side. She could channel the energy, and feel the pulse of living beings throughout the caves, the world of Korriban, and to a lesser extent, the galaxy. When she was most focused, she could sense other beacons, sources of power within the Force, light and dark. And she knew that she had to close herself off more, so that she could not be read, even by the most powerful of enemies.
Furthermore, she had a new task, given to her by the tutor, Adubell.
"A sith must have a weapon, one designed by her. An extension of the body. It is time you craft your own lightsaber"
In this area, as in others, Adubell wanted to choose correctly, what best suited her. And so she turned back to the tomes of the ancient siths, seeking knowledge of the weapon - how they worked, what different crystals did, how the handles and other mechanisms worked, the variations of the weapon.
Every day, growing in power, skill, knowledge.
And soon, she would be ready to face the galaxy, and claim it as her own.
************************
Adubell, for her part, trained Dahlia, hard, relentlessly, in the way a sith should be trained. Alexander would be proud - his offspring would carry on his name, and his vengence. But she also had other motives in mind, and while Dahlia researched and studied, and began crafting a weapon for herself, Adubell was doing much the same.
In the dim lighting of her space, she worked, crafting a new weapon - one the jedi would never see coming.
TBC
-
((Made some adjustments to the post))
Almost 30 years ago ...
A series of huge monitors were lit up against the far wall. On one, data was streaming, scrolling downward at a rapid pace. On the one next to it, a three-dimension image of a DNA strand, floated in a spiraling formation, tiny yellow dots appearing and disappearing along its helixes, corresponding to the data on the opposite monitor.
Along the side walls of the room, a variety of laboratory and computer equipment. Of note, a beaker encased with a specimen of blood was housed in a cylindrical scanning device, a small probe dipping down into the beaker and letting out small flashes of LED-like lighting displays.
Sitting quietly, watching the monitors, were two men. One with dark hair, one with red. Both young, full of life, and above all things, ambitious.
The dark haired man spoke first, "You did well with acquiring the sample, Alexander. It has exactly what we were looking for"
"It has the enzyme?"
"Oh, absolutely. And, in abundance. I have seen traces before, but nothing like the Gellar child possesses. And it is more complex as well"
The darker haired man rose moving over to the monitors and pointing.
"The enzyme, by itself, is able to do the work for us - it's communicating with every part of the DNA strand, and allows the matching respondent in the GURI program. I've already begun developing the prototype droid, and will begin testing the program on it soon."
"I'm sure you already have a name for this creation ..."
"That I do. Phage"
"It has a nice ring to it"
"Of course - and I'm sure it will stand for something, eventually"
"What kind of droid are you going to base it on? A protocol?"
The dark-haired man shook his head
"It's a myth that protocols are the smartest droids, with the highest capacity. Clone-Wars technology developed a far superior droid, and one that has the capacity to perform a variety of functions in a way a 3P0 unit or other protocol would not be able to. I've already moved to acquire MagnaCorp from it's surviving ownership. The IG-100 will be perfect"
Alexander stood now, smirking
"A bit risky, don't you think so, Medivh? I believe they developed a droid that eventually turned on its creators, slaughtered them, and became an assassin droid?"
Medivh turned to face Alexander
"The greater the risk, the greater the reward. When this works, we will be immortal. Indestructible"
"Just remember I provided you with the key, Medivh"
"Just remember that I'm building the door, Alexander"
TBC
Present Day ...
"What greater weapon is there than to turn an enemy to your cause? To use their own knowledge against them."
―Bastila Shan
Korriban
Adubell felt the heat of the forge around her, embracing her. There was sweat pouring down her forehead. But she didn't mind. The machines in the forge were working hard, and she watched through the dim glow of the flames.
It had started as a rock, chipped away, melted, broken down, until the metal was freed from the dirt, the metal then beaten and melted and heated.
A thin strand, like a thread of string emerged from the forge's hearth, and placed carefully in the trench of water nearby. A brief sizzle as it hit the water, cooling the metal before it was again taken out and tied, taut, between two posts.
Adubell watched the slaves disappear to their work, then stared at the strand, lifting her arm and igniting her lightsaber. It was so thin, and a saber so powerful. Adubell brought the blade up and with a quick motion, brought it down on the center of the strand.
But the strand did not break, the metal did not melt. Instead, her saber fizzled and died, and Adubell smiled.
"What is that made of?"
Adubell turned to find Dahlia Winton standing at the entrance of the forge, watching her. It was a surprise - she hadn't heard her, or felt her coming, and it reminded Adubell that as Dahlia grew stronger, she would have to be more cautious, or she would end up dead far too soon.
"It is an ore known as cortosis. Do you know of the substance?"
Dahlia nodded. A few weeks ago, she would be dumbfounded, but her time among the sith holocrons had given her much knowledge.
"It is a metallic ore that has certain conductive properties that effectively short out a lightsaber upon contact with the blade"
"Correct"
"What are you doing with it?"
"I am preparing to give the jedi a surprise. A series of surprises actually."
Adubell waved around her saber for a few seconds, tapping the switch until the blade finally reignited. She then deactivated it and again turned to Dahlia.
"But that is not why I called you here. Come, I want to show you something"
"What?"
Dahlia sounded impatient, not appreciating the secrecy, or being pulled from more valuable tasks.
"COME, and you will see, Apprentice"
Adubell stressed the word, reminding Dahlia that until Adubell was dead, Dahlia was still subservient to her. She moved through the forge, passed a series of fires that shot upward at seemingly random intervals, to a large furnace in the rear of the chamber.
"It is here, Apprentice, that you will begin crafting your weapon. The jedi spend years searching for the perfect crystals - the sith create the crystals themselves. If you miscalculate, your weapon will fail you, or it will destroy you. But if you succeed, you will be able to craft the perfect weapon, one that will serve you, be an extension of you, and aid you in destroying your enemies"
"Unless those enemies have cortosis, of course"
Dahlia's face was even, despite her sarcasm. Perhaps seeing Adubell working with the metal had been a mistake to allow - or perhaps it was a good warning, a cautionary tale. Only time would tell for certain whether Adubell, or Dahlia would benefit or suffer.
Adubell, for her part, returned Dahlia's cold expression with a dark smile.
"All weapons have weaknesses, apprentice. Your goal is to minimize your own. Familiarize yourself with the Forge, and how it works, and you will find creating your weapon far more successful"
The Sith walked past Dahlia, leaving her there as she stepped out of the forge, getting a slight chill from the drastic change in temperature, but proceeding through the cavern to another room. This room, unlike the forge, was locked, and Adubell pressed a series of keys before it granted her entrance. The room was large, filled with a variety of mechanical objects, and illuminated by a series of florescent lighting scattered about the room.
In the center of the room, a huge tank, filled with a yellowish-transluscent liquid, took up most of their vision. And inside, what could only be described as a metallic skeleton. There was a metal skull, with a human-shaped spinal cord, ribs, and other bones, all made of metal rather than bone.
Adubell smiled as she stared at the skeleton, floating in the center. Until recently, it was believed the technology developed by Medivh and Alexander Winton was lost when both died. But recent events revealed that the biological enzyme allowing their work to continue still existed - in the bloodline of the Gellars. Rutherford, and now Dane.
Adubell moved to where a small vile, filled with the red lifeforce of the youngest Gellar sat plugged into one of the many machines, then she turned her head upward, to where a series of monitors were active, across the room. On one, a DNA strand, floating in a spiraling shape, yellow dots flashing across the double helixes at a rapid rate. The other, scrolling data, interpreted from the DNA, filling the screen.
One day soon, Adubell would have what Medivh had. What Alex had had - immortality
TBC
-
Present Day ...
"Sometimes anger and hatred are deserved and right. Sometimes things change because of it."
―Yuthura Ban
Korriban
It was Dahlia's turn to spend hours amidst the flames. And the heat was consuming, stronger - because Dahlia was not just melting metal. She was creating a weapon, tailored specifically to herself.
The raw carbon was sitting in the furnace-compressor machine, but Dahlia could not leave it be. For a lightsaber crystal, especially a synthetic crystal, to be effective, the wielder had to tend to it, meditate on it, shape it and mold it through the Force as it compressed and formed its shape. The result was that such a crystal, if prepared properly, was strongly connected to the wielder, and a more powerful weapon in their hands.
Sweat dripped from her body, but Dahlia didn't feel it. She was standing, still as a statue, eyes closed, hands stretched out at her sides. She didn't feel the heat, the weight of her arms, her body. In her mind, the only thing she felt, was the crystal. In her mind's eye, she could see it, deep in the heart of the hearth. From a lump, it was slowly transforming, shrinking down, becoming more and more transluscent. She would shift her thoughts this way and that, changing its shape, slimming it down here, increasing the compression there.
And she filled it with her thoughts. Her desire for revenge, and for power. She fed the crystal from her anger and hate - of Adubell, of the jedi, of the Gellars and Mastertons.
It was a slow process, days long, and she had not stepped out, not for food or drink. Her body should be dehydrated, or burned, but she felt nothing. She was a channel of the Force, inseparable from its power, or from her crystal. They were one.
And it was in this deep state of meditation, so closely connected with her power, that she felt it, distant but strong. She had learned to tune her senses to feel angst, fear, aggression in the galaxy, and when focused on a location, she could sense something as minute as a crime - murder, rape, theft, assault. These things fueled her. But now, there was something stronger. It was not just a single act - it was thousands.
There was a war. An epic battle that would change the course of the galaxy, and even in her meditation, she knew she was a part of that war. Or rather, that the battle going on right now was the precurser to HER war. It was a part of her, the first step in her rise. And so she grabbed at it, grabbed at the battle, taking the feelings and actions from it and channeling that, amplifying it, and sending it deep into the heart of her lightsaber crystal.
The Wheel - home of the Trade Federation - and apparently, of the boy, Riley, grown so close to Gemma in their brief time together. Dahlia hated him in the same way that she now hated her adopted sister. The Wheel residents were filled with shock, dismay, fear, anger at the attackers - the imperials, her so-called allies. Yes, Adubell had mentioned that to her - she would 'present' herself to the Emperor soon, though he was, as she knew, just another enemy, an obstacle in the way of power. But here, he was acting to her benefit, for the emotions caused by the attack strengthened her, and through her, the crystal, the heart of her weapon.
The crystal's shape perfected, imbued with the Force - it glowed brightly in the hearth, a deep crimson shade, the color of the blood being spilled at this very moment.
But Dahlia heard whispers, not from the present, but from the past.
"Sister - make it your own. It is for the battles you will fight, not the ones being fought for you"
Dahlia was not certain which sister was reaching out to her, but it mattered not. She had strengthened the crystal with the Dark Side, stronger still through the effects of the battle. But the voice was right - it had to be HER blade, and none others, and she turned back in on herself, forcing the Force through her to the crystal, teaching it who its master truly was.
An unexpected act occurred - something that worried her. As she pushed her thoughts into the crystal, the rock suddenly cracked and then split, into three separate parts. Was it ruined? Would she need to start the task over again? Dahlia momentarily began to despair, knowing how draining it was, worried she had now wasted this opportunity. But then she heard the voice again - only now it was clear it was not one sister or the other.
"It is no mistake, sister - your power is strong, your concentration is good. You have allowed your weapon to transcend what it was before"
Another voice
"It is no mistake, sister - you have crafted a heart for your weapon that will be stronger than any enemy"
And then another voice - this one a man
"It is no mistake, daughter - you are the legacy. You will bring darkness to the enemy, and order to the galaxy"
Karen. Alexia. Alexander. Dahlia could see their faces now in her thoughts - and then each of those faces faded as the crystal - or crystals - returned to her focus.
Where before there had been one crystal of crimson color, the three crystals now were changing. One remained red, but grew redder still. The second had lightened, changing from red to pink. And the third had darkened completely, transforming into a black color, like an onyx or black diamond. The three stones rotated in the heat of the furnace, closing together - until they seemed to weld together, forming a single stone of three tones. crimson, pink, and black.
And she knew. It was her legacy, the power in her blood, the cunning and intelligence in her mind. Alexia's blade was red, Karen's was pink, and her father's powers were a dark variety of their own, the black.
Dahlia's weapon, like her, was infused with the strongest qualities of each. It was imbued with the power of the Force, stronger still from the war and strife happening at this very moment, and attached to her through blood, sweat and tears.
Dahlia's eyes opened, eyes pools of blackness, her feet hovering just slightly off the ground, fingers crackling as the Force coursed through her. One hand reaching out toward the furnace, reaching into the heat, yet not feeling the flames, and taking the completed crystal in her palm.
She could feel its throbbing power, feel it connecting to her own abilities. She and the crystal were one, and soon, her weapon would be complete.
TBC
-
"You are the channel, the tool of the dark side. For decades, your blood has been waiting to see it's full potential - and failed. But you will succeed where others of your blood did not - you carry within you, and within your weapon, the most potent aspects of your forerunners. It is you, Lady Winton, that are the daughter of the darkness, and heir of the sith"
―Sith Ghost to Sith Apprentice Dahlia Winton
Corporate Sector
Etti IV: Surface: Mondder
Kaytt Corinthos had hoped it would be helpful. But it most definitely wasn't. There, on the screen in front of her, was the hidden chunk of evidence she had gotten her slicer to find. Only, it made matters worse.
The surveillance videos were remarkably clear, watching Janessa Kain as she, seemingly drunk, parted ways from Kaytt, marching down the street.
Then, a figure approached her - the person, whoever it was, was cloaked, and had their back to the camera. What could be seen is the person stopping Janessa, leaning forward and whispering something into her ear, and then handing her an object. The person just as quickly walked passed Janessa, whose demeanor had entirely changed. Instead of looking drunk and stumbling, she was standing upright, her posture strong and purposeful as she continued walking. The object handed to her briefly visible, glinted in the dim light. It was a weapon
As she walked off camera, her image was picked up by another camera, then another, all the way until they reached Inspector Erbon's home. Janessa Kain stepped up to the door, knocked - repeatedly - until the door finally opened.
Kyatt had seen the final result, but watching the murder take place was another matter, and she glanced away, greatful the surveillance video did not have any sound.
Korriban
Dahlia had never been one for electronics, but her training, and the connection she bore to the piece of equipment in front of her, made the task far more manageable than even she could have anticipated. It was now a matter of utilizing everything she had to coalesce the items into a single, perfect weapon.
The lightsaber.
The central piece of the saber was the crystal she had forged, and unlike most, it was tri-color. Pink, crimson, and black. The crystal, on its own, pulsed with the energy of the darkside -but not just any energy. It was her own, infused with her very soul. And the stone itself bore the characteristics of the Winton's that came before her.
The second piece was the power source - a diatium power cell. A series of focusing lenses diverted the power into the crystal and then it shot out of the weapon through cycling field energizers in the form of plasma. The blade would extend out, about a meter, before forming a very tight arc that returned into the weapon, completing the circuit, and establishing the electrical current necessary for the weapon to be sustaining (The tight nature of the loop made a lightsaber appear to be a single straight beam, but explained why it was rounded at the tip).
Dahlia's hilt was one of her own making - a metal base from a very light metal, with a rubberized grip. Inside, all of the circuitry to make the weapon run properly, and on the outside, an on/off switch, and three other tiny buttons: pink, crimson, and black.
It was a labor of love as she connected each wire and circuit and element of the saber together, using the force as her primary tool of construction. There was beauty in the deadliness of the device she was building, her attention focused on it, even as the crystal and her communicated, the dark side flowing back and forth between her and the core of her weapon.
And then it was done. The smooth handle, the grip. Seemed innocuous, sitting there in front of her. Not for long.
Dahlia took the weapon in hand, feeling it's weight, then activated the blade.
Pink - the blade that appeared was pink, a soft glow. The blade was slender - only about two-thirds as thick as a standard saber blade. Dahlia smiled as she swung the blade around, almost like dancing with it, testing it on a series of remotes and targets. It was a duelist's weapon, with the dexterity necessary for it. Karen's style of fighting.
Then she pressed the crimson button.
Crimson - The elegance of the blade was replaced by something more ferocious. While the center of the blade retained it's pink color, an outer layer seemed to wrap around it, a glowing color of blood. A more powerful, larger blade, where graceful fighting had to give way to who was stronger. The crimson matched Alexia's aggressive use of the Force, and Dahlia slammed the weapon through thicker targets. It wasn't slicing - it was destroying, and rubble lay at her feet.
Black - With the pressing of the black button, the pink and crimson disappeared, and in their stead, a small blade, only about a foot long, extended from the handle. The blade had a very slight glow, and was black, appearing almost like a thin but heavy stream of smoke emitting from the weapon. Smaller, harder to see, and rare in it's color, it perfectly reflected her father, Alexander's combat - secretive, hidden, and strike unseen.
Three different weapons in one, and yet, it was a part of her. Dahlia knew the weapon would never betray her, never obey any other. It was she and she was it. She was the sword that would destroy the enemies, and it would lead her to greatness.
TBC
-
Korriban
Dahlia had become agile with her new weapon, and indeed, it became as much a part of her as her own hand. It's force connection so strong with her, that the weapon could not be activated by another, including her sith mentor.
Adubell had watched Dahlia grow and transform over the past months. She had been beaten, tempered, and hardened into a new being, a weapon of the sith, and destined to greatness. Soon, Dahlia would be strong enough, wise enough, clever enough to destroy anyone she deemed enemy - which included Adubell herself.
Adubell, however, was prepared to take the next step herself. Making her way to the locked laboratory room, away from Dahlia's prying eyes, she pressed the key code to enter, stepping in and assessing the room as the door locked behind her.
The huge tank in the center of the room, still filled with a yellowish-transluscent liquid, inside which stood a metallic skeletal form, similar in shape to that of a human. She made her way over to a gurney, briefly surveying the equipment. Clothing was shed, meticulously folded and placed on a small cart beside the gurney, Naked form shifting to sit on the cold foam padding. On either side of her, as if waiting to strike, hundreds of needles like fangs were aimed at her, She lay down quietly, buckling her body into the gurney, and pulling the harness as tight as she could.
Her arms and legs were lowered, ankles and wrists in grooves that locked closed. Adubell took one more look before closing her eyes, reaching out with the force, she connected to the activation button on the far side of the room.
The machine came to life, whirring with sound. Adubell briefly opened her eyes, with just enough time to see the needles plunging downward into her flesh, from head to toe. She felt the pain of what seemed like hundreds of incissions, from the balls of her feet up to her skull. Eyes closed as the pain became unbearable, the whirring of the machines not just around her now, but in her head.
It was torture, the worst kind of torture, until her body could take no more, and she passed out.
Nearby, the tank had come to life, extending metallic hands from the base to various points along the skeleton, slowly adding a new coating to the mechanical being.
TBC
-
"Nw?l tash.Dzwol sh?sotkun.
Sh?sotjont? ch?tsatul nu ty?k.
Ty?kjont? ch?tsatul nu midwan.
Midwanjont? ch?tsatul nu asha.
Ashajont? kotswinot itsu nuyak.
Wonoksh Qy?sik nun." | "Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
Through passion, I gain strength.
Through strength, I gain power.
Through power, I gain victory.
Through victory, my chains are broken.
The Force shall free me." |
-Sith Code
Korriban
Like a graceful yet aggressive dancer, Dahlia moved, her weapon slicing through the darkness at the targets, some immobile, some mere drones, some the deadly droids bent on destroying her. With each battle, her skill and her connection to her weapon sharpened.
As part of the task, every time she fought, her future opponents would incorporate her actions, learn by watching her. They could attack at any time and in any numbers. In response, Dahlia learned to vary her attacks and not rely on what had worked in the past. She would sweep a dozen enemies with her saber, then turn and visciously assault the enemy with a blast of lightning, incinerating it.
In between battles, she would meditate, peering out into the galaxy, feeding on the growing fear, anxiety, anger, hatred. The war was coming, and she reveled in the emotions that were so collective and strong, she could feel them. She never reached out to those she knew, or to her true enemies, the jedi. If they sensed her, they would know what she had become, and that must be avoided. Instead, she would conceal herself, and look at the happenings by reflection of outsiders. The upcoming hearing and trial of Circe Prescott, the battle at the Wheel, and Garron Prescott, the happenings in and around Etti and D'ian. She felt a twinge of something from Naboo, the place of her real father and mother, but stayed away, sensing it would be risky in revealing herself.
In all of this, she was alone - Adubell had seemingly disappeared, for days now. And Dahlia was growing inpatient to finally be free of this place, and grasp her destiny.
It was mid battle, facing a trio of magnaguards, that Adubell reappeared.
"It is time, Apprentice"
Quite against Dahlia's will, the three droids deactivated, and Dahlia, mid motion, continued and sliced off their heads before turning to face her tutor.
Adubell's demeanor was changed. She still had that cunning look in her eyes, but she looked in severe pain, her face was marked with healing incisor wounds, her hair was matted in places.
'What happened to you?"
"It is of no concern, apprentice. It's time for you to be cast out into this galaxy, and rebuild the Sith Empire"
Adubell's walk also had changed - she looked in pain. Dahlia followed, fingering her saber. as she stared at the Adubell's black hair and neck.
"Do not think from my appearance that I would be so easy a target, apprentice"
"I wouldn't want you to be an easy target. That would take the fun out of killing you"
Adubell turned, offering a smirk between her pained face
"I'm afraid you may have more difficulty killing me that you ever thought possible. Besides, I have been tasked to guide you"
"I don't need you"
"Nevertheless, the ancients have required it of me, and will require you to tolerate me a bit longer before you can make attempts on my life"
Adubell turned and again led Dahlia to the hall of siths, the place most saturated with the Dark Side, still living within, a malevolent force.
The torches were ignited and their shadows were already coalescing with the smoke, forming not one figure as before, but dozens, filling the room with shadows of the past. Dahlia could recognize their faces, see in each shadow the sith who it represented.
"Daughter of Darkness, you again stand before us, possessed with the power we have endowed within you, with the knowledge we have saturated you with. And more, you have forged your weapon, a blade reflective of yourself. Bring it to bear, now, child and sister of Winton - ignite your saber"
Dahlia stood firm in the center of the room, lifting her weapon and igniting it. The closest shadow approached her, its ethereal hand wrapping around the blade.
"The power of three made into one - you are the product of those who came before you in your bloodline. You have the powers and strengths of each. You, like your weapon, was forged from three into one. Recite your blood name, oh Daughter of Darkness"
Blood name? For months now, she was no one, or apprentice, but there was the name that connected her by blood to her past.
"Dahlia Winton"
"Yes - so it was, and so it shall be. To the galaxy, to your enemies, you shall wear the mask of your past, your blood. They will call you Dahlia Winton. But there is yet another name. A truer name. A sith name"
Dahlia nodded her head, still holding the saber high, the shadow seeming closer than ever.
"Say the words Dahlia, and be christened and birthed anew"
Again she nodded, her own eyes pooling in blackness as she spoke
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory.Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. Such is the code of the sith, and such is my code"
She heard her words, in her voice echo through the chamber, and then echoed back by the chorus of shadows, in the ancient tongue of the sith, and she felt the dark side flowing through her, pulsing through her veins
"Kneel, blood child of Winton"
Dahlia lowered herself to her knees, still holding her blade high. But a moment later, the shadow, holding the weapon by the blade, plucked it from her hands. In the past, the blade would deactivate, but in the sith shadow's hand, it stayed lit, the blade turning from upward, downward over her head.
"Extend your hand"
Without flinching, Dahlia took out her sword hand, opened it, palm upward. The blade slowly lowered, and then she felt the heat of the blade touch the center of her palm.
She didn't scream, though her muscle tensed reflexively. The blade was lifted again, and there, in the center of her palm, was a mark, a scar left by the touch of the weapon.
"You are bound in blood to this weapon, and have given to the sith."
The weapon was again turned upright and lowered to her still extended palm.
"Take your weapon, sith. For today, you are a true sith. No longer Dahlia Winton, your true name represents all that you are and all that you shall become.
Today, you are the Daughter of Darkness. Rise, Darth D'Cera, and conquer the galaxy for the sith"
TBC
-
((A new name ...))
Korriban
The water steamed as it splashed down on her skin, and Darth D'Cera closed her eyes, meditating on the sensations as the hot water hit the fading scars and bruises of her training and transformation. The pain was exhilarating. One mark would not fade, not forever. She opened her eyes and looked at the small but permanent mark in the center of hand - caused by her own lightsaber, and the only time the blade would ever work against her, a part of her transformation from a girl to a sith.
The shower itself was novel, the first real bathing she had done since being taken captive, and while she luxuriated in the waters, it was not in the same way she had done before. Back when she was weak, it was to be pampered. Now, it was part of her act, part of the sith that needed to present herself as the socialite and celebrity that would be Dahlia Winton. Appearances would be everything, and for a long time before her destiny was fulfilled.
She let herself drip as she stepped out of shower, into the new quarters that were hers. Sparse, small, but better than the cell, the bed had a thin foam mattress rather than a slab of metal, she had her own refresher unit, and a new set of clothes. Adubell had provided her with a variety of clothing that would suit her needs in the coming months - ceremonial but tasteful garb, for presentations before dignitaries, and fashionable school clothes for her return to society. Each outfit had a purpose, to assist in returning to the galaxy, establishing known and unknown contacts.
She was still naked when Adubell barged into the quarters. Darth D'Cera turned and glowered at the woman, not bothering to cover herself - modesty and shame, like all other emotions and characteristics, were merely tools, to be used when necessary and avoided when a hinderance.
"You should knock"
"I don't care enough to."
Adubell was looking better than she had a few days ago, the marks on her face fading more, and her walk stronger. D'Cera cursed herself for not killing the woman when the chance was ripe - or trying to.
"what do you want?"
"I have a gift for you"
That was not the answer D'Cera expected, and to cover her surprise, she turned to sarcasm.
"I never knew you had those kind of feelings for me?"
"A bit cheeky for a teenager, don't you think? No - this gift is one that will aide you in your quest. When you are ready, come, and I will show it to you"
Adubell stepped out, and D'Cera finished drying off, putting on a black jumpsuit and strapping her lightsaber to her belt before stepping out.
Two minions - D'Cera wasn't quite sure what their species was - escorted her to a shuttle, where Adubell was powering systems.
"We're going out?"
"Time to see the galaxy, Apprentice"
D'Cera boarded and the ramp closed behind her. She was fingering her weapon, even as she took a seat in the cockpit beside Adubell.
"itchy fingers ..."
"Only around you"
"I'm touched"
The vessel lifted off the ground and accelerated, Adubell navigating through the cavern at a near reckless speed, the Force guiding her travel as she lightly tapped the controls.
Ahead of them, a blinding light, growing brighter and brighter. D'Cera had to shield her eyes as the mouth of the cave opened up around her - and she was out in daylight.
It was painful, the late afternoon sunlight, shining on her pale skin and in her sensitive eyes, the results of months and months underground.
Adubell laughed, and D'Cera added it to her list of reasons to kill the mentor.
They did not spend long traveling along the landscape - up and out of the cavern, they rose, flying through the clouds, and D'Cera knew they were headed into orbit, turning her face away from the blinding sun, toward the darkening sky, she saw a large object reflecting light.
"What is it?"
"The biggest of all gifts, Lady D'Cera. The prize possession of the Trade Federation"
Drawing closer, D'Cera could see what it was - the spherical shape, spokes, circular pathways.
"The Wheel ..."
D'Cera knew it had been under attack just days before from the Empire. How had it ended up here.
A comm signal was active.
"Approaching vessel, identify yourselves"
It seemed absurd - there were no spacecraft in orbit aside from the Wheel and themselves. Who was aboard the station? who was talking to them?
"Infiltrator, this is Adubell, clearance code 7-8-4-D, carrying principle-one"
"Acknowledged, Lady Adubell. Approach executive sector docking bay"
D'Cera noticed damage along huge swaths of the Wheel, but that the structure itself was basically sound. Slowly, they made their way up to the central axis, and the docking bay there.
Upon landing, D'Cera was the first out of her seat, hurrying down the gangway - and seeing just how the Wheel came to her.
The docking bay was covered in the remains of crew, dry blood scattered about. She continued walking toward the doorframe when it opened, and out appeared Mara Tacofer. Or, as D'Cera now knew, a look alike.
The HRD glanced over D'Cera once or twice, as if confirming it was her, before turning to Adubell who had approached from behind.
"What is the status of the station?"
"90% containment. System controls have been deactivated in most tiers, and rerouted to the command suite. Every sector is on lockdown - no one is able to get out of their rooms or sections. The imperials who boarded the station were forced to discard their weapons, or they would have been vented out into space. They too have been secured."
"Anyone in the hallways?"
"They have been dealt with"
"Are the key assets intact?"
The HRD nodded
"The archive system is fully functional, and currently still secured, as per your orders. The stock exchange is also functional"
Adubell smiled, turning to D'Cera
"How would you like to redirect some of the most potent of the galaxy's technologies and a third of the galaxy's income to your own private uses?"
D'Cera could not help but smile.
"show me"
TBC
-
Previously ...
Hyperspace / Korriban
The imperial force that had boarded the Wheel did not realize at first that they had moved. Even the acceleration into hyperspace had been barely noticed, and attributed to the ongoing battle. Without windows in the cooridors, they assumed everything had proceeded as planned.
Already, under the leadership of General Kwotes, they had secured much of sector 5, including a main service turbolift, the easiest way to bypass some of the roadblocks that were in place.
They also faced growing but inadequate resistance from Federation security. Kwotes smiled - without its droid armies, the Trade Federation had become, mostly, toothless when it came to ground combat. Sector 5 was almost entirely secured, with a clear path to more central areas of the Wheel, when the first sign of a problem appeared.
The turbolift that General Kwotes was on deactivated - and then went in the opposite direction, returning him and the squad to cooridor they had come from. Stepping out of the turbolift, they noticed that power had been deactivated, and emergency lights were on.
Then even those went out.
The imperial troops activated their own personal lamps as they proceeded through the now dark cooridor, coming to a heavy blast door.
Kwotes was not to be deterred.
"Blow it"
"I wouldn't do that, General"
The voice was a female one, coming from over an intercomm, the speaker over their heads.
"In fact, General, if I were you, I would order your troops to lay down your weapons"
Kwotes stared up at the speaker, his troops keeping watchful eyes of the walls and doors. Even in an ambush, his force onboard was sizeable and would probably be able to succeed.
"Why?"
"Because you have no reinforcements, General - you aren't in the Besh-Gorgon system anymore. The Wheel is ... well, somewhere else. And without reinforcements, you don't have the army you need to take a massive space station. More importantly, if you do not lay down your weapons, I will deactivate artificial gravity, open the purging vents, and send your forces out into space"
The idea that they were no longer being reinforced was unsettling, but Kwotes had a large enough force to take the station. he wasn't about to be manipulated so easily
"If you could do that, you would have done it already"
"Incorrect, general. I have no desire to kill you - unless I must. But I need to make it clear to you that your conquest of the Wheel is over. This station has been commandeered for an alternate purpose. Please order your troops to lay down their weapons. Once that is done, I will have an escort accompany you - and only you, General - to the executive suite. Failure to comply will result in your termination, as well as that of your troops"
"You are bluffing" Kwotes wasn't ready to concede yet, not with his success thus far.
There was a pause, as if the voice was considering for a moment, before it spoke again.
"I would apologize now to your troops, General."
The comm went dead, and a moment later, Kwotes felt his stomach floating up into his throat - and his feet lifted off the ground.
"She's deactivated the artificial gravity - magnetize boots!"
A rushing sound could be heard far off, small at first, but growing louder and louder. Kwotes felt the air pushing, pulling him backward. Even as his boots electromagnets activated, he felt the pull growing stronger, his feet hitting against the metal floor, and then scraping it as the pull of the vacuum of space fought against the magnets. The vacuum was winning. Most of his troops had followed his lead, and were trying to grab hold of something to help fight against the vacuum. A sensor on his belt gave Kwotes warning that air was depressurizing.
"Oxygen!"
The shout was drowned out by the roar of the air, and he activated the internal oxygen within his white armor mask.
He managed to grab onto a handlebar, securing himself in place and watching as his troops struggled against the force of the wind tunnel.
Weapons and equipment had already been lost, and a few of his men could be heard screaming as they were sucked away.
And then, after another minute, the vacuum stopped, though there was still that floating feeling - the gravity had not been reinstated.
"Have I made my point, general? or must it continue?"
Kwotes glanced around, assessing his now far less ordered troops, then glanced up at the intercomm with anger.
"very well. My troops will disarm"
"Excellent - be ready for the escort. We'll be around - when we get to you"
Gravity returned to the room, suddenly, and the imperial troops that had been anywhere but the floor fell hard to the ground, Kwotes himself suffering a minor bruise at the sudden change in gravity.
He reformed his line of troops, then ordered weapons - those still salvaged after the vacuum - placed in a pile near the blast door.
Then he waited.
**************************
Federation troops had been heading toward Sector Five, to help sure up resistance to the boarded imperials. That was when they got the message from the comm unit.
"Federation Security, you are to head directly to docking bay Alpha-15, and wait there for orders. With our hyperspace jump, the imperials have been successfully contained. ALL Federation troops are to head to docking bay Alpha-15, immediately"
Alpha-15 was the largest commercial docking bay on the Wheel, and upon arrival, the Federation troops found it was filled with a variety of small and medium freighter craft.
Again, the comm unit.
"This is Mara Tacofer. Due to the recent battle, we need to complete the evacuation of the Wheel. Civilians are currently under lock down in all quarters. They will be escorted to Alpha-15, board ships, and be diverted to friendly worlds. Security will be escorting civilians and making sure they do not cause trouble during the evacuation. Once evacuation is complete, all security are to return to Alpha-15 for further orders."
There were many questions going around - where were they? where were they headed? what was going on? But orders were orders, and the troops moved in small squads through the Wheel, using clearance to unlock and evacuate one area at a time, ferrying frightened civilians to the docking bay.
***********************
Executive Docking Bay had a team of about 18 security, stationed there in case the imperials tried landing close to the Wheel's control center. They were effectively part of the the administrator's primary security personnel. His shuttle was the only one left in the bay, when Mara Tacofer stepped inside.
As per training, they lowered their weapons, and raised a salute. Tacofer smiled - then pulled out a repeater blaster, firing at the line of soldiers. She had hit six before the rest had a chance to respond, and another 4 before there was any return fire. A blaster struck her in the torso, but she didn't flinch, continuing to fire at the soldiers. Three surviving soldiers had taken cover behind the ship, watching as Mara inspected the dead troops before approaching.
They aimed, targeting her scalp, and she again turned to face them - and then broke into a run, circling around the ship as they fired on her, shots at her fast-moving heals beneath the ship's wings, circling around.
The next second, she had come around the vessel, slamming a fist into one's throat, his weapon dropped as he began coughing up blood. She caught the blaster, aimed and fired her weapon and the officer's at the two survivors, firing without hesitation.
The officer coughing blood was clutching his throat at her knees, and she aimed the blaster down, firing it and silencing him.
Infilitrator-02 glanced down at the scorch mark in her clothing, frowning as she ran a quick diagnostic, heading to the control panel and awaiting the arrival of the guest of honor.
Present ...
Korriban
The halls were deserted as D'Cera, Adubell, and the Mara look-alike made their way through. Aside from the docking bay itself, there was little in the way of signs of a struggle. Lights were dim, and seemed set on emergency power, and their footsteps echoed off the walls.
They came to a door, and the look-alike keyed in a code on the door lock. Doors opened with a hiss, revealing a massive chamber, riddled with monitors. Though the lighting was out, the monitors were mostly lit, casting blue and greenish glows throughout the room.
In the center of the ceiling, a huge spherical machine, covered in monitors as well.
"Welcome to the Federation Stock Exchange"
D'Cera stepped forward, onto the catwalk, looking over some of the machines nearby.
"I have secured the necessary codes to authorize transfer of shares, and to conduct trades on behalf of the Trade Federation, and, in a brokerage capacity, for countless other individual and corporate entities."
"Anyone who used the exchange ..."
D'Cera smiled at the thought. Her more social studies based lessons had taught her that the Federation acted as broker to millions.
"Correct. Approximately a third of public galactic trading processed through the Federation exchange. The most notable alternatives include, of course, rival exchanges, such as the Corporate Sector, and more localized exchanges, that focus mostly on commodities."
"How has the Imperial attack affected trading authority?"
"Many entities suspended trading, but only a few successfully took away trading authority permanently. Attempts are ongoing, of course, to prevent the assets in the exchange from being accessed without proper authority from owners."
"Will that prevent access to the assets?"
"Not for most - so long as we work quickly"
"Very well - begin the transfers"
The look-alike simply nodded, moving to a console and began typing at a furious rate. D'Cera watched this with amazement and curiosity.
"how will it work?"
"The Infiltrator will, on behalf of the many, many owners, sell millions of shares to a series of shell companies at a significantly reduced price"
"Paid for how?"
"assets already available. The company will be buying shares at less than one-hundredth their actual value. Those shells will gain controlling shares in hundreds of companies that will grant you the ability to utilize those resources. Others will be sold back to the individuals at inflated prices. By the time anyone realizes what happened, you will have made a fortune off of doing nothing, and will be a major shareholder in some of the most influential companies in the galaxy"
"Such as"
"The Trade Federation itself, not that it will be worth much once the empire is through with it. The shell company will own it in your name. Others that sold stock include Kuat Drive Yards and Corellian Engineering Corp, though those are not controlling - controlling shares of each of those is owned by their respective government. Siennar Fleet Systems traded through the Fed Exchange, The Techno Union, the Commerce Guild, The Banking Guild, and the Hyper-Communications Cartel - which is responsible for much of the commercial holonet activity. You will have a say in all of these, and when the time is right, you will use them to further your goals."
D'Cera nodded, taking in the information and the possibilities as she looked around the room. Normally crowded, it looked empty with just the three of them there, but she could see this facility becoming very useful.
"Once the trades are done, and the Trade Federation extinct, what will happen to the exchange?"
"Whatever you wish - it will not be useful as a stock exchange in the future. At least, unless you manage to convince investors the exchange is secure"
There was a series of pings and the look-alike glanced over to them.
"The transfers are complete"
Adubell nodded her head, turning to D'Cera.
"This station also has aboard the entire federation specification archives, and a variety of production facilities that have been dormant for the last decade"
"They don't make droids anymore"
"Not unless we want them to. As per my instructions, the infiltrator has pulled about one hundred battle droids from storage. They will be assisting us in controlling some of our guests"
************************
General Kwotes troops were restless, looking at their weapons nearby with longing and fear. Unable to go forward, many were resting against the walls of the sector 5 hallway, waiting for something to happen.
They heard the clang of foot steps approaching from the far side of the heavy blast doors. Only it did not sound like boots - it sounded like metal.
The imperials rose to their feet, just as the blast-door began to hiss and open.
On the other side, illuminated only by the the emergency lights, were not federation security.
It was several dozen battle droids. And once the door was opened, blasters opened fire, blue stun fire raining down on the imperial forces, leaving them unconscious, General Kwotes, standing and watching speechless.
The lead droid, a classic B1 battle droid with a yellow strip on his mechanical shoulder turned to the general, and in his mechanical voice, spoke.
"Please come with us, General"
TBC
-
Korriban
Ship by ship, docking bay Alpha-15 filled with civilians, and emptied, the many frightened individuals still aboard slowly being sent off to various worlds, mostly neutral in nature. The system was fairly organized - those on board could decide destinations from a list of a handful of options, and were sent to the respective ship headed in that direction. Federation security were professional, even if they were unable to answer questions about the details of what happened.
Shuttle windows were blacked out, and only the pilots could see the damage to the Wheel - Sector 5 a real mess of mesh and metal, but otherwise, the station seemed intact. The evacuation seemed somewhat unnecessary. Those same pilots were ordered not to report back to the Wheel until given specific orders.
All of the Federation troops were wondering what happened with the imperials that had boarded the base, but the occasional communication from the boss, Mara Tacofer, indicated they were no longer a threat, and to proceed with the evacuation.
Two federation security, however, were curious enough to break with their orders, and decided to head toward the center of the Wheel, where the stock exchange was located.
Upon arrival, they found the room was deserted. As they continued through, hoping to see someone or something that explained what was going on, they heard the sound of metal clanging on metal to the beat of a march. curious, they walked around the catwalk to the opposite cooridor, peering out the window and shocked to see a squad of battle droids marching past.
"battle droids? aboard the Wheel? It doesn't make any sense"
"Neither does disobeying orders, but you seem to have done that anyways"
The two soldiers turned, surprised to see a teenager standing there.
"who are you?"
"I am the end"
the teenager lifted her hands, and the two federation soldiers found themselves pinned against the wall, suddenly unable to breathe.
D'Cera watched with cold, black eyes as they grabbed at their throats, gagging and hissing in attempts to breathe.
"D'Cera, enough of this"
The voice came from behind the teenager, and the soldiers, already seeing spots, could make out the fuzzy image of another woman.
The teenager's face darkened, and she squeezed her hands tight, the soldiers' necks making a snapping noise and twisting at an odd angle.
As D'Cera turned to walk back toward the other woman, the two soldiers' dead bodies slumped to the ground.
***************************************
General Kwotes had been escorted through the deserted halls of the Wheel, surrounded by the yellow-metalled battle droids common some five decades earlier, and brought back at the height of Trade Federation power in the post-Empire era, before Phage led to an almost absolute halt on the use of battle droids. These droids looked as though they had never seen combat, metal shiny as they day they were created. Kwotes would not, however, underestimate their ability to shoot him should he choose to resist.
He was, however, quite shocked at the atmosphere, and was curious as to the use of droids. Was the Trade Federation so under staffed, and worried about his boarding that they had brought out of storage battle droids to reinforce their ranks? Something didn't seem right about that. And he recalled that in conversation with the woman he assumed to be Mara Tacofer (it was just a voice afterall), she had said the station was comandeered. That at least indicated that it did not seem to be under Federation control at all. Which also puzzled him.
Kwotes was brought to a turbolift, marked off for executive use only, and taken up to the executive suite, where he finally encountered the first human on the station.
There was Mara Tacofer, garbed in a standard Federation jumpsuit that had a series of notable blaster marks in it, though she seemed no worse for ware.
Tacofer smiled.
"General, I'm glad you could make it"
Still surrounded by the droids, Kwotes frowned
"What is it you want from me"
"We need you to set up a meeting with the Emperor"
"We?"
"Yes, we"
Kwotes turned his head as two more women stepped into the dim lighting. One was a teenager, and looked oddly familiar to Kwotes, the other, a black haired, tall woman. Both had pale skin, dressed in black, and each had a metallic cylinder hanging from around their waists.
"Who are you?"
"We are sith, general, and allies of the Emperor. We want him to join us aboard our station here, so we can discuss how we can work together to bring down the Republic. A goal i believe you share. We insist you contact him - right now"
"And if I don't?"
The response, he could hear the click of blasters being raised and pointed at him.
"it's not really a hard decision, general"
With a frown, Kwotes nodded his head. "Where is the transmitter?"
*******************************
"I will be there in three days time. I assure you, if I come to regret this meeting, so will you"
"We look forward to it, your excellency"
Adubell pressed the button to deactivate the signal, smiling and turning to the general, still standing there amidst the sith and the battle droid forces.
"Thank you for your assistance, General"
"I didn't have much choice"
She offered a mocking smile in return
"oh don't be so glum. You will be back to serving the Emperor very shortly. In the meantime, however, I am afraid we will have to detain you - we don't want you running around our station, making any trouble."
With a nod from the adult sith woman, the battle droids began marching again, leading Kwotes away. He would find himself detained in a small but comfortable living area in the executive suite.
Meanwhile, Adubell turned to D'Cera, who had been silent throughout the exchange.
"Are you ready to make an appearance before the Emperor?"
The younger sith looked to Adubell with contempt.
"It's all for show - what does it really matter"
"Show? SHOW makes a great deal of matter - it is how we present ourselves that will allow us to succeed. The Emperor will provide us with much needed - in terms of diversions, cause for the Republic to act, additional supplies. We want him to be an ally"
"You once told me there are only two categories of people - servants, and enemies. There is no such thing as an ally"
Adubell smiled.
"True - to an extent. An ally is someone who has the potential to be both. It depends on him, and you. Schrag is useful, and he is smart. If you are smarter, he will end up serving you. If you fail, he will be on a growing list of enemies. Now go on, and get yourself ready. We have guests coming"
TBC
-
Korriban
The Imperial Star Destroyer 'Vengence' slipped out of hyperspace in orbit over the planet Korriban. Though Korriban itself was outside the Republic, the particular area north of Republic space had only a limited number of active gravity well nets, thanks primarily to trade with the Corporate Sector, so close by. Quite advantageous to Schrag - and the supposed allies he was preparing to meet.
Korriban was known to be devoid of most activity, due primarily to its history and reputation. The space around him was not cluttered with ships or platforms.
Instead, aside from the planet itself, the only other thing amidst the darkness was the Wheel itself.
the star destroyer moved forward on sublight engines, keeping shields and weapons raised, until it was within firing distance, at which point, he got the expected hail.
"Now Emperor, I believe that is quite close enough."
Schrag's face was ice cold.
"I don't even have a name for my so called allies, and I will move my ship where I want to"
"I'm hurt by your lack of trust, your eminence. This is a meeting of like minded individuals"
"You'll forgive me for my lack of trust then, and I will keep my ship close enough to fire on you. I am here, as you requested, and now I have some demands. I want my general and my men released, immediately"
"They will escort you out, Emperor"
"No, they will be released, and I will choose my own escort"
There was a pause, before the sith woman again could be heard on the comm unit.
"Very well, the emperor can have his way. We will release all of your troops, and the General will depart with you. Please send over shuttles, and we will make the necessary arrangements"
The comm went dead before Schrag could respond, and he fumed at the way he was being manipulated. Turning to his aide, he practically growled the next order.
"Order two dozen shuttles, with an appropriate escort to head to the Wheel to pick up our troops. Order the ship's imperial guards to my chambers"
"Yes sir"
*******************************
The imperial troops had been stripped of their weapons and armor, leaving them vulnerable in the dark, cold corridor where they were imprisoned. At regular intervals, a squad of battle droids appeared, delivered food, and departed, locking them inside again. No one had heard from the general in days.
Now the blast door opened, and there stood the droids, without the meal.
"What's happening?" One troop demanded, before being shot in the chest, the blue stun bolt dispersing through his body as he crumpled to the ground.
The other imperials began to protest, before being quickly subdued - there was nowhere to go, afterall. It was the second or third time they had enmassed been stunned, apparently deemed brutal but efficient method of control, without resorting to deadly force.
The battle droids advanced, hefting the uncoscious imperials and carrying them to the docking bay to be transported, like cargo, back to the imperial ship.
*****************************
The last of the civilians had evacuated some hours before the arrival of the star destroyer, and now the federation officers were impatiently waiting for orders in docking bay Alpha-15.
All heads raised as the blast doors opened and Mara Tacofer stepped into the room.
"Troops"
They stood, out of respect, but slowly, lazily even
"You have done well with the evacuation. Thanks to your efforts, the Wheel is now almost entirely secure"
"What of the imperials onboard?"
"They have been detained"
"And what's happening now?"
"Now, we are negotiating the next move. I want to thank your for your service. I will be arranging for your departure to a designated location shortly"
Before any of the officers could respond, the ambassador stepped out of the room, leaving them to their thoughts. The last ship had departed already, and no one was coming back. How were they going to leave? And WHY, if the station was secured?
A few minutes later, the blast doors opened again - only this time, it was not the ambassador who entered. Instead, row after row of B1 Battle droids appeared.
The Federation soldiers got to their feet, pulling out blasters.
As the first set of droids appeared, they raised their rifles and began to fire on the troops. The Federation soldiers began to return fire, while seeking cover behind whatever crates or barrels were still there - the room was sparsely populated afterall.
dozens of droids fell, but the numbers kept coming, and soon, the federation soldiers were overwhelmed. The last handful tried to surrender but were, like the rest, shot on sight.
*****************************
Admiral Schrag was surrounded by the red robed guards he had hand selected as his own, most trusted, most loyal. Despite the word 'ally' being thrown around, he was walking into enemy territory, and he wanted to be prepared.
As he finished speaking with them, the other individual Schrag was weary of stepped into the room.
"Darth Erinbol"
"At your service, your lordship"
Schrag excused the guards, leaving him with the sith.
"Are you really?"
"You continue to doubt my loyalty"
"it would be imprudent not to."
"This meeting will be good for you. The sith will help destroy the Republic from within, while you destroy it from without."
"I've heard this before"
"It's always been true. If the Republic is destroyed, the Empire will reign supreme, be able to conquer entire regions of space unchecked. Winton will be the subtle knife, the greatest most powerful tool in your arsenal. Use her properly, and I assure you, you will admire what she has become. Together, your alliance will shake the very foundations of this galaxy"
"And when it's over, and the Empire is as vast and powerful as you say - who will it be in charge. Me? or the girl?"
"That is up to you, of course, Emperor."
"What do you mean"
"You may find that through her, you can control more than on your own. I have learned she can be quite charasmatic, persuasive. It might be that with her by your side, your empire won't even realize how completely you rule over them. The possibilities are endless"
"So you've said"
"Indeed"
"you will be accompanying me aboard the Wheel."
"As you wish, your eminence"
Erinbol bowed and departed, leaving Schrag all the more suspicious
-
Korriban
Flanked by two squads of TIE fighters, the imperial shuttle crossed the void of space to the executive docking bay, making a smooth landing without incident. Six of the TIE fighters streamed inside as well, landing beside the shuttle, while the rest diverted back toward the ISD Vengence.
Ramp lowered, and eight red-robed imperial guardsmen, each carrying their famed pike weapon, slipped out, forming an honor-guard perimeter around the ramp.
Then came the Emperor. Palpatine and Dementat, though both brilliant tacticians in their own right, were not military men, and had chosen garbs of royalty. Schrag, however, was military born and bred, and though he was now the Emperor, he still dressed as military - A fresh pressed, class-A uniform of a grand admiral, with only a change of lapels and pins to indicate he was even higher than the military itself. Behind him, two lieutenant aids followed to the docking bay, and in the rear, Darth Erinbol slinking softly down the ramp.
As they disembarked, Schrag looked suspiciously at the ones who came to greet them.
A half dozen battle droids stood at attention, each baring a white stripe on its shoulder, weapons shouldered but clearly accessible. Standing in the middle of them were three women.
The first was the most recognizable - Mara Tacofer, the ambassador to the Trade Federation - though conversations had indicated she was someone else, or at least, no longer had allegiance to the Trade Federation. Next to her, the woman Schrag had first viewed on the hologram days earlier, the sith woman, dressed in black form-fitting sith robes, pale skin, raven hair, and the noted saber hanging from her hip.
Between them, an individual the Emperor had never seen, but knew instantly. Younger. Red hair, green eyes. She was the younger image of her two famous sisters. Unlike the sith woman, the Winton girl was in an actual dress, black but gorgeous. The outfit allowed her to look older without the impression of trying too hard.
It was the sith woman who approached first, her face with a smirk, though she bowed her head low.
"Your Eminence, it is an honor to have you aboard"
Without waiting for a reply, she raised her head, smiling behind the Emperor.
"And Darth Erinbol, as always, a pleasure."
Schrag's face was stone cold as the sith woman turned back to face him.
"I am Adubell, Lady of the Sith. And this ..." she turned her hand to indicate Winton "This is the newest member of our order. You would know her by her birth name, Dahlia Winton, child of Alexander and Monica-Greyson Winton, and youngest sibling of Alexia and Karen Winton"
At this point, D'Cera stepped forward and fell to one knee, lowering her head in a deep kneel.
"Your Highness, I am honored to stand before you"
There was a notable contrast between Adubell and D'Cera's demeanor toward Schrag, one the two of them had discussed at length. Whereas Adubell had been sarcastic, even mocking of the Emperor, D'Cera needed to show herself subservient to him, inferior to him. Thus the display of humility.
Schrag, for his part, was skeptical, watching Winton with caution. Nevertheless, he was here to meet her, and understood his role as Emperor, to hers as servant.
"Dahlia Winton. I have heard a great deal about you. Apparently you will be the cause of the Republic's destruction and the rise of the Empire as the sole galactic power."
D'Cera kept her head bowed, but nodding.
"If the Emperor would allow it, of course"
"I was told your role was destiny"
"My lord, destiny is only what we make of it"
Schrag couldn't help but smirk. There was certainly truth to that, and Schrag was often skeptical of foregone conclusions like prophesies. But obviously, that wasn't quite what she meant. Many galactic philosophers had discussed the the outcomes of prophesies, and what they could be, and how to affect them. General consensus, even among those who believed in foresight, was that outcomes could be changed, at least to a degree. The child before him - yes, she was still a child in his eyes - was clever in her response, and for that, he was willing to extend the conversation, to see what she knew and believed, and what she really could offer him.
"True. Rise, Dahlia Winton. I think it is time we had a conversation about how to bring about the destiny that we desire."
Dahlia again nodded her head humbly before rising from her kneeling position, now lifting her head to face the Emperor, who stood taller than her. Schrag looked down at her as he spoke.
"I am very curious about you, child. How you came to be with the sith, and how you know of your past"
"With all due respect, your eminence, I am no longer a child. I am a lady of the sith, reborn in the fire of Korriban's desert. I was brought here against my will, a pampered child of adopted but neglectful stewards"
"The Gellars"
D'Cera nodded "they kept me close, but in truth, they always feared me. Always feared I would become what my sisters had been, what my father was. They hid the truth from me for all my life, and in my naivety, I believed it. I was soft, weak. No longer. Now I am a weapon. And it is they who will be fooled."
"You sound quite sure of this new life of yours, all based on your time with an ancient and often defeated cult"
Adubell had warned D'Cera of Schrag's likelihood to test her - her anger, and her abilities. Calling the sith a cult, and questioning her abilities indeed did cause D'Cera's blood to burn with anger. But she didn't let the emotion show. SHOWING emotion was like wasting energy. Instead, she let it fill her, fueling her. She allowed herself a brief smirk as she lifted a hand toward one of the imperial guards. An instant later, the pike in his hand flew through the air and was in her hands.
"If it is a cult, it is one that has made me strong. I have learned to use the power of the Force to bend the galaxy to my will. I have learned how to influence politicians and peons, subtly steering them to my ends. If it is a cult, than it is a strong cult."
"And those you have learned to influence - one of them is me, isn't it"
D'Cera shook her head
"Your caution is prudent, but unnecessary. We have the same goals"
"For now, perhaps. What about in the future. Why should I believe that the Empire you plan to dominate the galaxy with is MY Empire, and not YOURS?"
D'Cera stared at the Emperor for a moment. Adubell had led her to believe the Emperor could be manipulated, tricked. And maybe after time that would be possible. But he was strong willed, and clever, and prudent, and was not going to be so trusting today.
"You shouldn't, your eminence."
Schrag was a bit taken back by the answer. He had been expecting something else, but not an admission that Winton was not to be trusted - from Winton herself. But D'Cera continued.
"If you trusted me so easily, you wouldn't be meant to rule the Empire. Even if over time, you learned to trust me, it would show you had softened, and it would make you weak. And then you would be unfit to rule. If you always question me, and my motives, treating me as a potential thief to your throne - you will find our mutual interests keep us as close allies. We will build greater respect for each other, perhaps even rely on each other. But never truly trust each other. Trust is unnecessary for us to be allies."
"Do you consider yourself a servant to the Empire? Or an ally?"
"Both, my lord. I am a servant to the Empire - to YOUR empire - as long as the Empire is worth serving. I don't foresee that changing any time soon. I am your loyal servant, and today, I tell you that I have a plan to help bring down the Republic from within, to aid you in conquering the galaxy. What the future holds is entirely up to you"
Schrag, ever skeptical, was at least more comfortable now. Winton was proving to be an eloquent speaker, despite her youth, and Schrag respected her candid, yet respectful nature.
"Tell me more about this plan of yours"
TBC
-
Korriban
Emperor Schrag and the Lady D'Cera walked side by side through the empty cooridor of the Wheel. Behind them, 8 crimson-robed imperial guards, and General Kwotes, who had been released. Behind them, Adubell and Darth Erinbol, who watched the Emperor and the young sith interacting.
The plan that D'Cera had given to the Emperor was appealing, despite its requirement for patience. As they walked, he was demanding greater explanation.
"Emperor Schrag, your role in this war is extremely crucial, despite what might seem to be minimalist. You simply need to keep the war going without over engaging"
"Fight a war to lose?"
D'Cera shook her head
"No, Emperor - fight a war to keep the Republic fighting. You don't have the strength to destroy the Republic - not yet, and not with their current might. If you try, you will lose, your fleets decimated, and the Empire could very well be destroyed. Give up, and the Republic will strengthen its borders and then come to realize the Empire is no threat at all."
She paused for a minute, turning to him and smiling
"But if the fight keeps going - enough, just enough that the Republic keeps worried about what you will do next ... the tension will be the perfect atmosphere, ripe to take advantage of growing and constant fear, suspicion. That's how the Republic will fall. That's how EVERY republic has fallen. They turn on each other. It's torn apart. When the time is ripe, the order of the Empire will be preferred over the chaos of the Republic. And then, you will swoop in, benevolent ruler, saving the republic from their true worst enemy - themselves"
"Fear and suspicion aren't caused by a mere war, Dahlia Winton. Wars bring political foes together"
"True - sometimes. but not when coupled with more subtle strategies. You are aware of the trial of Circe Prescott and Janessa Kain?"
"Of course - you are a part of that story, as I understand it"
"Indeed. the trial is going full speed ahead. And I intend to make an appearance that will beat any prior headlines - and will lead to the greatest anti-jedi sentiment the galaxy has ever seen. And if the jedi cannot be trusted ... well, who can be?"
Schrag stopped walking now, turning and looking down at the young sith.
"How did you come to be like this? So cunning, ruthless? Was it her?" he nodded his head toward Adubell.
D'Cera, in response, scoffed and shook her head.
"Her? She was just a tutor. Taught me how to utilize my abilities. But I've been bred for this kind of play on the galaxy. I was raised by Rutherford Gellar, a ruthless businessman who sold his own daughter and grand daughter to save face. But more importantly, it is in my blood. I am Alexander Winton's child, and I carry his legacy, his brains, his cunning. I embody everything he tried, and will be everything he failed to be."
"he tried to rule the galaxy"
"he tried to conquer the galaxy - there is a difference. I don't need to rule an empire, so long as I can help create one"
"If you don't want to rule, then what is your motivation in all of this?"
D'Cera's eyes darkened, her mouth curved up slightly in a cruel looking smile.
"Revenge"
TBC
-
Korriban
"It was an honor to meet you, Emperor Schrag"
D'Cera made a low bow, as Schrag eyed her coolly
"And it was ... enlightening meeting you, Dahlia Winton. You definitely resemble your father - your real father"
D'Cera stood upright, smiling
"I'll take that as a compliment"
"And what of the Wheel? it was to be my conquest?"
"With your leave, Emperor, I would like to hold onto the Wheel. I have something special planned"
"What's that?"
She smiled again.
"Trust me, you won't be disappointed"
Schrag watched her a moment longer, before he turned to Adubell.
"I trust my general can be released?"
"Of course, your eminence."
"Good - I have a war to win"
He glanced back at D'Cera a moment, nodding his head before turning and heading back to his ship.
Darth Erinbol turned to face Adubell and D'Cera
"Lady Adubell - Lady D'Cera. Your company has been most wonderful. We shall be in touch"
Adubell and Erinbol glanced at each other knowingly before he too turned and followed the Emperor's entourage to the shuttle.
Minutes later, Adubell and D'Cera watched as the Emperor's shuttle hurried off into space, back toward his command ship.
"That went perfectly"
"A bit too honest, weren't you, apprentice"
"It got his attention, and it worked. Unlike you, me and my family have learned how to deal with the rich and powerful all our lives. We know diplomacy."
D'Cera turned to Adubell
"That's part of why I'm the chosen one, and you are not"
Adubell glared back at D'Cera, her lips pursed tightly, anger fuming from her eyes. It was a tense moment before she finally spoke.
"It's time, D'Cera. Time for you to return to the world. We will prepare at once."
*****************************
D'Cera stood at the edge of the shuttle being fueled and prepped by a half dozen droids as a small vessel made it's landing just a few feet away.
Out of the second ship, two Voss-Ra exited, moving toward where Adubell and D'Cera were waiting.
"What have you come here for?"
The creature looked at Adubell, shaking its head
"We did not come for you. We came for her"
D'Cera turned to face the creatures, who approached her - and bowed at her feet.
"Oh Daughter of Darkness, our One Abomination, we are here to serve you. Use us or destroy us as you please."
D'Cera smirked down at the retched creatures.
"You wish to come with me?"
"Yes, my lady. We have the gift of disguise that can be most useful to you. Us and our entire people live and die to serve you. We were chosen with the honor to serve you."
D'Cera nodded her head
"So be it - you will come with me. Rise now"
They did, and motioned behind them.
"We have brought with us from the caverns a gift - not from us, for no gift of ours would be worthy of the great Abomination, the Daughter of Darkness. It is a gift from the spirits"
"The spirits?"
A third Voss-Ra stepped out of the ship, carrying in its arms a small, polished wooden box, a series of inscriptions carved on the side, and a hand print on its surface.
The creature bowed down before D'Cera, raising the box and offering it to her.
D'Cera looked over the box curiously, before reaching out. But rather than taking the box, she placed her hand, palm open over the print at the top.
She felt the rush, the power, the dark side flowing from the box to her, and back again to the box. The lid, sealed shut, opened, and D'Cera withdrew her hand.
Inside, amidst dark velvet cushioning, two orbs sat.
"They are holocron's, My Lady. Of the Spirits of the Caves"
D'Cera examined them briefly before nodding her head, approvingly, closing and locking the box.
"Place it aboard the ship, for my perusal later"
"Yes, My Lady"
The creature bowed again, and slipped away.
By this point, Adubell had been silent, and D'Cera turned to her.
"Fuming much, are we?"
"Remember what I told you - you must control the power. Otherwise, it becomes a weakness. Don't grow soft. You were a pathetic thing with all that celebrity"
"I think perhaps you might be jealous of the attention I'm getting. The Emperor, the Voss-Ra. I'm their leader now, and you are just nothing"
"How little you know, apprentice"
************************************
It was hours later, aboard the ship, heading to Chandaar, the vessel piloted by one of the Voss-Ra.
D'Cera was examining the holocrons when Adubell broke the silence.
"Your cover story?"
"I was kidnapped, tortured, escaped"
"It won't work"
D'Cera looked up, closing the box.
"Why not?"
"You don't look like you've been tortured. You are too healed"
D'Cera glanced down at herself. Indeed, in the months of training, she had gone from a weak, tortured, bloody mess, to a fit, healthy, beautiful, strong woman. No one would believe she had been a prisoner.
"I know how to remedy that"
Adubell's eyes were filled with malice as they locked with D'Cera's.
"Don't take too much pleasure in it, Adubell"
D'Cera placed the box down in a secure location before standing up, placing her hands at her sides.
Adubell's lips curved upward in dark smile as her hand reached out. D'Cera could feel it coming, but refrained from blocking as she was trained to do. Her body was lifted up and sent sailing into the wall. She crumbled to the floor, feeling the pain coursing through her.
But Adubell was not done. She lifted D'Cera up with a clenched fist and the power of the Force, dropping her hard against the floor, then smashing her against a bench. D'Cera felt blood on her lip, but forced a smile.
"Is that the best you can do? I thought I was supposed to be tortured?"
Egged on, Adubell's smile turned into a sneer, both hands raised as the hatred heated her blood, the dark side traveling to her finger tips and extending out in lightning, attacking D'Cera who refused to block.
"Don't worry - the scars won't be permanent"
D'Cera couldn't help but let out a small cry of pain, and Adubelll moved in closer, releasing the lightning with a last jerk and kicking D'Cera who was crumpled on the floor. Once. Twice. Again.
D'Cera let out a croaked voice
"Enjoying this, aren't we?"
"Admittedly, a little bit"
Adubell lifted up an arm and brought it down across D'Cera's face, giving her a black eye. Arm up again, coming down.
And then she stopped, frozen in place, a look of shock on her face.
For with the downward swipe of her arm, D'Cera had plunged her lightsaber, the small black blade, deep into Adubell's torso.
D'Cera turned her head up to Adubell, the pain gone from her voice, a smile crossing her now swollen lip.
"You taught me to use my anger - not to let it control me. I guess you don't heed your own advice, tutor"
In another moment, Adubell collapsed to the floor, as D'Cera pulled her weapon from her teacher. Adubell glanced down at the fatal wound, then back up at D'Cera, her voice hoarse now.
"I'm impressed ..."
D'Cera stared down at Adubell, contempt, loathing in her eyes and voice.
"You said I had to kill you to be free. I'm just following your own words. This is goodbye, teacher."
Adubell shook her head, a faint smile crossing her lips.
"Not entirely correct ..."
Her eyes closed, her head slumped, and Adubell's body lay dead.
D'Cera stared after her for a moment, curious as to the last statement. Her thoughts were interrupted as the Voss-Ra approached her.
"My Lady, we are approaching Chandaar"
D'Cera nodded
"Good"
TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Halls of Justice, Court of General Jurisdiction in the Republic
D'Cera had made her way outside of the courthouse, instantly finding herself surrounded by the press. Behind her, Circe Prescott, only just freed looked on at her with admiration - and at the press with revulsion. She had made it clear as they were walking out that she would make sure the child would be returned to her parents as quickly as possible.
But the young sith had a few more things to do before leaving Chandaar. With the press around her, she made her statement.
"I think it's dangerous - the power of the Force. The kind of control they can wield on anyone. They can read thoughts, control actions. Anyone is vulnerable. From a teenager, to heads of state. I'm afraid. Afraid I'll be taken again. Afraid I'll be used, beaten, or worse, again."
"Dahlia, you say you fear the sith-"
She kept her mirth to herself at the irony of being asked if she FEARED the Sith. Her voice was stoic and firm, her face set in a serious expression.
"Not just the sith. I think anyone who has that kind of power over the force - I worry about how it might be used."
"Even the jedi?"
The press was making this too easy for her.
"I'm not going to stand here talking about the jedi right now. All I know is I want to get far away from them. I want to go home"
"Dahlia-"
D'Cera had said her piece, and with the help of the willing Circe Prescott, and a handful of republic security, she was escorted away.
*****************************
D'Cera allowed herself to be examined by the medical staff at Ambaril General Hospital, Circe refusing to leave her side. It was actually quite annoying.
The doctor glanced up at Circe and her.
"Well, it looks like most of these wounds will heal. Despite the obvious trauma, it appears that, at least physically, Miss Gellar-Masterton will"
"It's Winton. My last name is Winton"
The doctor gave her a curious look, but then nodded.
"Very well. Miss Winton will make a full recovery"
"Thank you doctor"
The doctor stepped out, leaving D'Cera with Circe, who now turned to her.
"I've arranged for a ship to take us both back to the Corporate Sector, and bring you home to your family. Dahlia, I ... I can't thank you enough. For standing up for me. I know it must have been hard, telling what happened. But you saved my life"
D'Cera smiled softly.
"It was the right thing to do. You didn't deserve the fate that was coming to you."
Circe nodded
"well, thank you. Are you ready to go home?"
"Not quite yet. I was wondering if I could visit the senate building first?"
"The senate building? Dahlia, why would you want to stop there"
"I was hoping I could speak to the Speaker. Miss Corinthos told me during the break that he had helped with the investigation, and I just wanted to ask him a few questions."
"Well, I don't know if we -"
"And I want to go alone."
Circe was about to protest, but D'Cera held up a hand.
"I promise it will be ok - I'll be surrounded by tons of Republic security. I'll be completely safe"
Even as she said the words her fingers flickered back and forth ever so slightly. Circe blinked, but then nodded.
"Your right. you'll be surrounded by tons of Republic security. You'll be completely safe."
D'Cera smiled
"Thanks, Circe. I'll meet you at the spaceport"
*****************************
Surface: Ambaril: Senate Building
D'Cera separated from Circe at the entrance of the senate building, making her way inside. Those who saw her and recognized stared, but no one approached her. She had a look of determination on her, and easily made her way past security to the turbolift.
It was not, however, to Speaker Shale Apteen's office she went. Not at first. It was to Senator Ingrat's, of Metalorn. Stepping into his office, she boldly walked up to his receptionist.
"Can I help you?"
"Dahlia Winton, to see senator Ingrat"
The name carried enough weight that the call was made.
"Yes Senator ... well she claims to be ... very well sir"
The receptionist hung up the comm and looked up at D'Cera.
"The senator said he will see you right now"
D'Cera nodded as she turned to make her way into the private office. Ingrat was one of the most influential members of the Republic Senate. He was responsible for the long hold up of bringing Corellia into the Republic as voting members, and was now responsible for the ongoing research at Centerpoint Station. He was also key to establishing the next phase of her plan.
When she entered, he rose from his seat.
"So, you are the famous Dahlia Winton"
D'Cera shook her head
"Hardly famous"
"If not before, than certainly now. You single handedly saved Circe Prescott and Janessa Kain"
"I only told the truth"
He shrugged, and motioned to a seat.
"Please, what can i do for you?"
"You heard my testimony, didn't you, senator?"
He nodded
"Excerpts of it"
"I wanted you to do something about it. I think it's time that Force users not be allowed to do the things they have in the past. Walking around freely, using their abilities at a whim. It's dangerous. We don't know what they know, or how much affect they are having on us. They could be destroying the Republic from the inside, and we would never know."
The patriotic ramifications hit a nerve, giving her credibility, but the senator was still skeptical.
"Do you have any proof it's happening at such a wide scale?"
"All I know, senator, is that after ten years at bay, the Corellian delegation joined the Republic with an overwhelmingly strong vote"
The Senator's voice hardened slightly
"I recommended it"
D'Cera countered
"You were forced to recommend it. The pressure was building in the senate, and something happened during that fact-finding mission"
The senator's eyes widened both in surprise and he almost glared at her, his voice dropping a decible
"What do you know?"
"I know that the Corellians have long been allies of the jedi, and vice-versa. If one is weakened, the other is. You can make the republic stronger, and weaken the Corellian delegation all at the same time."
D'Cera stood now, offering Senator Ingrat a brief, small smile.
"Think about it senator - you could save the Republic. And Artemis Soldys would spend the rest of his career as a fringe element."
And with that, she made her way out of the chamber.
*****************************
Getting in to see Shale Apteen, despite his status as Speaker of the Senate, was even easier than getting in to senator Ingrat.
D'Cera walked into his office just as he was placing the small galaxy-projector back on his desk.
"Dahlia Winton - what brings you here?"
She made her way over to the desk, taking a seat near where the projector was put down, as the Speaker took a seat. Her eyes flickered over to the projector before returning back to the Speaker.
"I wanted to thank you for your help - with Miss Corinthos. No one would have believed my testimony if she didn't have your resources to back it up"
He frowned
"I wish she hadn't told you"
"I promised I would keep it a secret. It gave me the courage to say what needed to be said"
"Well, in that case, your welcome. I'm glad I was able to help"
She nodded, again eyeing the projector.
"What's that?"
"It was a gift - from the Trade Federation ambassador, before she left."
D'Cera nodded her head, quickly thinking about the timing. It wasn't Mara Tacofer who had delivered it - she had already come to rescue the children. No, it was one of the look alikes
"May I see it?"
"Go ahead"
D'Cera reached out and grabbed the sphere in her hands. Immediately, she felt it. A rush, like adrenaline, coursing through her, the power of the dark side expanding, growing. It was like a pulse, beating softly, and sending waves through the room. While holding it, she could see the Speaker, sitting there.
He had an aura around him, a kind of black-lighting, pulsing in time with the sphere in her hands. She smiled at him.
"It's beautiful"
He nodded
"I find when I'm stressed, pulling it out and using it to look at the stars - at the entire galaxy - it's quite soothing"
She nodded, rubbing the sphere with one hand. Now was her chance
"Mr. Speaker, you heard my testimony, did you not?"
"I did"
"You understand what the problem is. It's the Force users. They are destroying the Republic"
The Speaker sighed.
"Dahlia, I know you went through a lot. It must have been awful. But the Force is not one sided. There are good users, the jedi are good."
D'Cera rose from the seat, still holding that sphere in her hand, her other reaching out toward the Speaker. He seemed confused at first, then a moment of fear crept into his eyes, and then his gaze slowly began to blank out. D'Cera smiled. She had not planned this, not like this. Her manipulations of the Speaker were meant to be more subtle.
He was a strong-minded individual, and the Force would not so easily influence him. But the sphere carried in it the power of the dark side, and it had affected him, slowly, day by day for the last several months. Poisoning the strength that protected him from the Force's influence.
And now, he was all hers.
"Shale Apteen - hear me. When the senate brings up a bill, any bill, against Force users, including the jedi, you will whole heartedly support it. The jedi are dangerous. They cannot be trusted. They will destroy the Republic if they are not stopped."
D'Cera's eyes went black as she pressed her will against the Speaker, watching his eyes flicker, his body slumping back in his seat. Using the power hidden within the sphere to magnify her own, she ingrained her words into his thoughts.
It was several minutes late when she placed the projector back on his desk, Shale Apteen blinking, a confused look on his face as he tried collecting his thoughts.
"Well, anyways, thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Speaker. I appreciate it"
She smiled at him and he smiled back.
"Any time, Dahlia. I hope to see you again soon. A girl as brave as you - I bet you could really do some amazing things for the Republic"
You have no idea
"Thank you, Mr. Speaker"
*****************************
She walked back to the hangar bay, where Circe was waiting for her.
"I'm ready to go home now"
TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril: Spaceport
"I'm ready to go home now."
Circe smiles, "Good but first I have a surprise for you."
"A surprise?" Dahlia says, fighting the urge to Force strangle her. The Counselor, for all her good intentions, is quite annoying. And she was aligned with Melanie Masterton who slew her sister aboard the Centerpoint Station.
In time, dear Counselor.
"I love surprises."
Circe motions behind her to the shiny Naboo royal cruiser.
"It's more of a present, really. A token of our appreciation for helping us."
"What is it?"
"The cruiser belonged to your sister, Karen. It was given to her as a birthday present from your biological parents but was used in Melanie's escape years later. She kept it in pristine condition out of respect and now I am returning it to the family in the spirit in which it was given."
Dahlia's eyes grow wide, "It's beautiful."
"You have no idea," Circe says. "Wait until you see inside. The wardrobe alone will blow your mind."
"Hold up."
Janessa stops in front of them, holding a large bag.
"I'm coming with you."
"You are?"
"I was just cleared of murder charges because some Force wielding maniac hacked my brain. The Direx Board must be convinced of my continued ability to negotiate for them within the Republic. I'm not going to lose my job over something I had no control over."
She winks at Dahlia.
"You're a Winton. You know how important reputations can be."
Dahlia smiles slyly. She likes Janessa.
"Shall we?"
"Yes," Dahlia says. "Let's go."
Aboard the exquisitely designed spacecraft, they settle in as Circe takes the control. She plots the fastest route back to the Corporate Sector and obtains clearance to leave. She is so grateful to be able to help given what Dahlia has done for them. She is, however, anxious to see her brother and Lord Gellar again. After their last conversation, things had gotten tense and there were hints of blame. They did not believe her and a part of that still hurts. Given the factual evidence presented to the public, she cannot hold it against them too much. She was about to be convicted on that evidence. The entire ordeal has yet to set in and she wants to get away before it does. She needs time to clear her head and think.
The cruiser reaches orbit and veers away from the traffic pouring in and out of the capital. Circe pulls back on the controls and the ship flares into hyperspace.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
D'Cera is sleeping when the voices come to her.
"sister.. you have grown powerful"
"A masterful step, what you did on Chandaar"
She could see them in her thoughts - Karen and Alexia. Karen, the weaker but more graceful of the two, Alexia, the less stable but more brutal. Neither of them could compete with the combined ruthlessness and cunning that the youngest Winton possessed. They were guides to her. As was the third individual, stepping out of the shadows.
"Hello father"
Alexander Winton's face was stone cold as he spoke.
"You have started weaving the web - but you do not yet grasp the capabilities you possess"
"I have already been trained in the Force, father"
"Yes - but the Force is but one element of your attack. There is another - the very link that binds you with your adopted siblings"
D'Cera rolls her eyes
"Of course - 'the four' - bound by blood. It was all nonsense, part of the act"
"It isn't nonsense, daughter. What brought the four families together wasn't me. It was an act done over a hundred years ago. And it is the commonality of the four that will make you invincible"
D'Cera tilted her head, smirking as she spoke, sarcasm oozing.
"Just like you were invincible, father?"
Alexander's lips curved into a brief smile.
"I didn't know what you will know. If I had, I would have succeeded."
"So tell me now" D'Cera's patience was growing thin, but instead of responding, the three beings began to fade back into the shadows.
"Wake up, daughter"
"Wake up, sister"
"Wake up, sister"
D'Cera's eyes blinked open and she was out of bed with a start. Her window was opened just a crack where it had not been before - but on first glance, the room was empty. Then she stared into the shadows and saw the eyes staring back at her. The moment of being startled passed, D'Cera stepped out of bed, her face growing cold.
"Show yourself"
The creature stepped forward, bowing down on the ground before her.
"I apologize for startling, Lady D'Cera. We have followed your instructions"
"You brought my possessions?"
The voss-ra nodded, before lifting in offering to her two objects that D'Cera had been forced to do without for her performance on Chandaar - the first, her own lightsaber, self crafted; the second, the box holding the gift of the sith, the holocrons.
D'Cera carefully took both, feeling the weight of the lightsaber hilt in her hand, activating the pink blade and staring at it as she spoke.
"Were you seen?"
"No, Lady D'Cera - this home was easy to infiltrate, even with its security measures"
She deactivated the blade, turning to face the creature.
"When I am here, you are to make sure no unwanted being is able to infiltrate the property. Am I clear?"
"Yes, My Lady"
"Now, go. I will summon you when I need you"
The creature bowed low before moving to the window, a moment later, gone.
She moved to the window, closing it and pulling the curtains over it, then made sure the door to her room was locked, then moved to her bed, carefully opening the box and pulling out the holocron.
The moment her fingers touched it, she could already feel it's energy pulsing through her, could see the shadows of her room flowing, congealing, to form a figure, not unlike the one that had been in the cave. But this one formed further, until there was a distinct face, pale, with yellowish eyes.
D'Cera was not frightened, but fascinated, and she stood away from her bed, walking toward the being.
"Who are you?"
The being smiled "I am your guide, Lady D'Cera. I am called Darth Immortus"
"I already have a guide - three of them in fact"
The being shook it's head.
"They led you to me. I will teach you the secret to unlock the power of the four families."
"So tell me"
"first, you must see how it all began"
The figure began to dissipate back into shadow, but instead of disappearing, it wrapped itself around D'Cera, until the view of her room was obstructed.
Instead, there was a new vision, appearing out of the smoke.
"Watch, oh daughter of darkness. This is your story"
**************************
300 years ago ...
It was a classroom of jedi, teenagers not much older than the young Dahlia Winton herself. She could see herself, sitting at a desk in the back, the light from the Coruscant sun and city pouring through the wide windows as the jedi master taught the lesson.
"Now class, true or false - a living being can live forever"
"FALSE"
Most of the class declared it, save for one boy
"true"
The teacher turned to face him.
"Imri, you disagee?"
"Of course - a person can do anything with the force. Even overpower death"
"But death is a part of the life cycle of the force"
Imri shook his head, insistently
"That wasn't your question. Your question was CAN a living being live forever, not SHOULD"
The jedi master stared at Imri for a moment, lifting a hand to scratch his beard.
"Neither is true, Imri. We should not try to defeat death - it's not where our power should go. Nor is it possible. No being, jedi, sith, whoever, has ever succeeded, though many, many have tried"
"But people can be cloned - why is this so different?"
"A clone is a different person. Identical, but with different thoughts, memories, even personality"
"What if a person's mind can be transferred to the new being? Then it's the same as the old person?"
"Minds cannot be copied"
"A machine's memory can be copied. Why can't a mind's?"
"If we copied a person's memory like a machine, the clone would be a memory box - it would have the memories, perhaps, but you cannot transfer a personality like a computer. In that case, the clone is just a machine with flesh skin. It's a robot, not really alive"
"Unless there were a way to infuse a person's actual mind - not just his memory, but everything about his mind - into the new clone. The clone could even be made of machinery and biology, to help the incorporation"
The jedi master shook his head.
"The technology doesn't exist for that, Imri. And even if it did, it wouldn't be right. Living forever isn't meant to be. jedi should not pursue such paths, nor should anyone else. Now, we've talked about this long enough. The point of the original question was ..."
The jedi master trailed off on some philosophical thought, but D'Cera was ignoring him, focusing on Imri, who was equally ignoring the jedi master. Instead, he was jotting down a note.
The paper flew off his desk, in front of her, and on it, she saw a single line.
Enzyme in humans allows cells to talk to electronics = immortality
**************************
At that moment, D'Cera heard a loud knocking, and the images around her faded away into shadows, leaving her in her room.
"Dahlia? Dahlia, are you alright"
Celeste Masterton was banging on the locked door, and D'Cera ran to the box, placed the holocron away, and shoved the box under her sheets before coming to the door, unlocking it, and there was her mother, face strewn with worry.
Dahlia's face shown with the required pitiful look, a mix of shame and sadness.
"I'm sorry mom - I just ... I felt safer with the door locked"
Celeste's face relaxed slightly and she drew, Dahlia in for a hug. D'Cera obliged, hugging back, but her mind was on the holocron sitting a few feet away.
The rest for another night.
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Celeste Masterton gently cracks the door open, peeking in to Dahlia's bedroom. Her trepidation, as irrational as it was, always made her fear the child wouldn't be here when she checked in, and she let out a relieved sigh seeing her lying in bed sleeping, feeling herself foolish for needing the reassurance.
Some fears just never went away.
As quietly as she could, she eased the door open further, slipping her way in to the room and making her way over to Dahlia's bed. A hand reached down to brush a stray hair away from her child's face, and Celeste bent down and kissed Dahlia's forehead, whispering into her ear.
"goodnight, sweetheart"
Celeste eased her way out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Dahlia Winton's eyes blinked open, staring at the door for about a minute, before her skin began to melt away.
The grayish skin of the Voss-Ra servant took its place, watching the door lest Celeste Masterton needed more reassurances that her daughter was home and safe in bed.
**************************************
Dahlia Winton was not in bed, though she was not altogether that far away. Across the Gellar-Masterton property, she had found a secluded area hidden between tightly packed trees. A fat, older tree, slowly dying from age and rot, had hollowed out in the center, and it was in here that the young sith stood.
Her appearance did not match tonight's task - pink silk pajamas, and a pair of slippers. Not at all imposing or regal, like the powerful being she was, but it was all part of the appearance. If she were ever seen by anyone in the family, it had to be as though she had just gotten out of bed.
Reaching down into the dirt, she pulled out the wooden box, carrying the sith holocrons, gingerly opening the box and placing her hand on the sphere, her voice whispering softly.
"Darth Immortus, Lord of the Sith, I summon thee"
She could feel the strength of the emotions - fear, anger, hate - pulsing from the holocron, and she pressed further, contemplating her disdain for so many around her, and letting that contempt mix with the power of the holocron. The visage of the sith lord appeared before her, and D'Cera nodded her head.
"Show me more"
The sith lord nodded, and the world around D'Cera began to spin away to show her a world from long ago.
**************************
300 years ago ...
Like last time, the setting was Coruscant, in the massive Jedi Temple, but instead of a classroom, She found herself with the young Imri (now a year or so older than he last appeared) in what looked like a biology lab.
It was also nighttime, and she and Imri were alone with a single other individual, who clearly was nervous.
"Imri - I'm not sure we should be doing this. If we get caught -"
"How about, Rand, we don't get caught then. They aren't letting me do this during class, so this is the only time I can do it."
D'Cera watched at what the two were doing now. Several petri dishes with small amounts of solution, and two or three microscopes. Imri had a dropper and tweezers in his hands, while Rand was fiddling with a larger machine with a laser pointed at one of the dishes.
"Why do you have to do this? Why is it so important, Imri?"
"Because if we can use machines to extend life, we are doing the galaxy a favor. More importantly, because I want to prove those old bafoons they were wrong when they said it wasn't possible"
"I wish you wouldn't talk about the masters that way"
"They deserve it - so close minded. They could accomplish so much, but NO, it's all about 'preserving' this and 'balance' that."
Rand sighed as he continued fiddling with the machine, and D'Cera watched as the laser changed ever so slightly. Silence ensued for several minutes.
"So, I hear you are going to be assigned to work in the clinic?"
"Yeah - apparently, not withstanding my feelings about biology, they think my background from Thyferra and skills with biology make me a good candidate to help with those who need some jedi healing powers."
"It's not a bad gig"
Imri sounded annoyed
"You're welcome to it."
Again silence as they worked, and then Imri became more animated.
"Alright - I think we've got it. Look, see? here is that single celled organism., and here are the microscopic pieces of iron. It's producing an electro magnet, all on it's own, just like I said. Is the machine ready?"
Rand made a final adjustment, then nodded.
"yeah"
"alright. Let's see if we can isolate the enzyme that allows this thing to work"
D'Cera watched as Imri moved to the giant contraption, taking over from Rand and peeking in to the viewfinder.
"here we go"
He pressed down on the button, and the laser's glow grew more intense, a small amount of smoke rising from the dish underneath.
"Imri! your killing the samples! That won't work!"
Imri shook his head, too concentrated on the task at hand, and about a minute later, he lifted his head from the eye piece, a satisfied smile as he turned to Rand.
"Take a look, buddy. Enzyme isolated"
Rand glanced in then back at Imri.
"Ok, so now, how do we take that enzyme and put it into a human being?"
"It needs to be injected into the genome, of course. This was only the first step. Now the real work begins"
**************************
Present ...
D'Cera blinked as the images faded, Darth Immortus floating in front of her.
"So what happened? Did it work?"
"There is more to the story, of course, and the answer, when explained is far more helpful than a simple yes or no. But the hour is late - you must return to your bed"
"I have a decoy there"
"I know of this, young Winton, but the visions are taxing, and you need to be awake in a few hours. Return to me again soon, and I will show you more"
Darth Immortus faded away, to D'Cera's discontent, but she buried the holocrons and made the trek back to her home, pink pajamas and all.
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Valor Preparatory Academy
The return of the Gellar-Masterton children had been discussed intensely in an emergency meeting called by the school board. Further complicating the matter was the admission that they had a Winton enrolled the whole time. Opinion varies widely but the focus remains on reintegrating the children back into a safe learning environment. The school counselor, a child psychology specialist, had also been briefed on the situation with specific instructions to tend to the possible backlash of the trauma they suffered. No one on the board could see any reason to bar Dahlia Winton from attending, despite her namesake. She was, after all, not raised in the same environment as her sisters and the press conference called by Rutherford Gellar stated she had been relocated for her protection. In the end, they side with the best educational interests of the children and send word that they would be welcomed at the start of the fall term.
*
It is more than just a little uncomfortable. Gemma stares through the window of the hoverlimo as it idles in the drop-off zone. It had taken some coaxing to even get them into the transport given how their last ride ended. Celeste had been assured facing this part of the trauma would help build confidence. Gemma seems less certain.
"What if they forgot about us?"
"Yeah, right. Like that's gonna happen."
"I do not think that is possible," Celeste says gently. "I understand you are all nervous but the counselor said you did not have to discuss anything with anyone you did not feel comfortable with. Her offices are open to all three of you. She wants to make sure this is a smooth transition. Your father and I want that as well."
Dane groans and taps open the door, stepping out and walking confidently toward his classmates. Gemma glances at her mother then follows. Celeste touches Dahlia's arm softly.
"Sweetie, take your time getting back in the swing of things. We just want everything to return to normal."
Dahlia smiles, "Thank you, mother."
Normal. What a joke. If she only knew how abnormal things had become. She was still smarting from the lack of conclusion within the holocrons. The story was compelling but told her virtually nothing of use. Not yet anyway. There were more important and pressing appearances to keep up at the moment which include regaining her social position while carefully evading the newly increased security detail. Thankfully, one of the Voss-Ra disciples had murdered a key agent and replaced him using his talent for shape shifting as part of the ruse to ensure her mobility while feigning security. Her "parents" were none the wiser, consumed with relief yet shackled with uncertainty and guilt. She would add to that distraction later. Now, it was time to shine.
The time spent as a captive left little room for the pampering and grooming habits she had become accustomed to which is why she spent most of the weekend under the care of their personal stylist – hair, nails, waxing, the works. There is no rule that says you can't be attractive and popular whilst plotting to take down the Republic, right?
Right.
Dahlia steps out of the limo a new woman indeed but would conceal these talents beneath the guise of a delicate flower, traumatized by her kidnapping and torture. The professors and staff would need to believe the ordeal was life-changing and, even as a Winton, she was not a threat. To them, her confidence would return slowly. To the student body, she would manipulate her way back into that arena. The kids of the Corporate Sector are fickle and cruel. These were attributes which could be exploited for personal gain. With things set in motion in the Republic, much to Emperor Schrag's liking, she was free to focus on the here and now. Eventually, she would have to find a way to legitimize a presence within the Republic capital but she would crib that avenue of exposure from Karen. After all, everyone loves a pretty face.
These evil inner working are shaken when she spots Muriel lingering nearby. She had forgotten all about her best friend and the void her absence must have left in her life. Muriel already struggles with abandonment issues with her mother and Dahlia can only imagine someone as self-absorbed as LeVanya Monroe would not have been much comfort or support after she was kidnapped. She bounds up to her and throws her arms around her. Muriel clings tightly, trying not to cry. Dahlia steps back, still holding onto her hands.
"I missed you."
Muriel's lip trembles.
"You have no idea…"
There is a moment when the darkness clears but she remembers that sentimentality breeds weakness and she forces herself to butch it up. Adubell would have beaten her for that lapse but that bitch is dead and there would undoubtedly be missteps during her reintegration. She may be wicked powerful but she's still a teenager. She must take the lessons learned and practically apply them, mindful not to care too much about any one person or thing. These are potential allies, not friends.
Gemma is having a similar bonding moment with Alka and Preston, gushing and laughing and crying. Dane slaps hands with Roman and they walk off together. Simple as that. Dahlia likes Dane's brash attitude. He's been a real pain in the ass since he got back. She wonders what he got up to on Corellia and makes a mental note to follow up.
The inevitable classes follow but, with her newfound abilities, retaining and applying knowledge is a breeze. School suddenly comes more easily to her, each subject more intriguing than the last. She had been a decent student before, not nearly as smart as Gemma of course but not as dense as Dane. Now she could put both of them to shame with a grade point average the school would celebrate and her parents would cheer. Captivity, torture and training make one smarter. Who knew? She suspects it is not a method the Valor Prep board would adopt.
During a break, Dahlia stops by her locker when she hears a familiar voice behind her.
"Welcome back," Trichelle says. "How was the kidnapping?"
Dahlia turns slowly, smirking.
"Probably not as fun as your meteoric rise to the top of the social scene but I appreciate you keeping my seat warm. I'll take it from here."
"You know, we've never been that close, probably because I can barely stand you but you do have a certain something."
"Oh, you mean class and charm? Those are things you might want to look up."
"I can hold my own."
"For now," Dahlia says icily. "But I doubt you have the stamina or the stomach to keep that little façade you call a personality going. So, you can give up the throne gracefully or be socially deposed."
Trichelle rolls her eyes up.
"Clever coming from an actual royal and a dangerous one at that. You think these people are really going to trust you now that they know who you are? Let us not jest. The Winton name is poison in these parts."
"Something I'm sure you had nothing to do with."
"Nope," she retorts with a sneer. "Dead daddy dearest took care of that all by himself."
"Harsh, Trich but as you damn well know, there will always be haters."
"For you, perhaps. My family isn't responsible for the lives of countless innocents. The Corinthos name is synonymous with integrity, pride and loyalty. Can you say the same for Winton?"
Dahlia purses her lips and narrows her eyes.
Trichelle's smile widens.
"I thought not. So, as far as your little plan goes, good luck with that."
Dahlia is left standing by her open locker, completely pissed. Sure, she could just up and kill Trichelle but a murder on her first day back isn't exactly subtle. She may not have anticipated any lingering resentment people here might have toward a Winton. Her father did pull some shady shit. Alexia was a certified sociopath and Karen, while popular and famous, did leave quite the body count in her fabulous little wake. Dahlia is not working with the most trusting or flawless reputation. She would have to be the bright and shining light to save the Winton name all while balancing the darkness of her maniacal plans, undermining her adoptive parents, school work and her social life.
Just a day in the new life of Princess Dahlia Denai Winton.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Darth D'Cera closed her eyes, sitting in the hollowed tree, breathing in and out slowly. She could feel the pulse of energy of the world around her, her thoughts searching out - toward her family's home, toward the neighbor, toward the cities across the world. There it was. For some, lingering in the back, for some, more pronounced. Fear. Anger. Hatred. It was remarkable how many people felt contempt for themselves or others. Especially in the Corporate Sector. And the young sith loved it all.
The school day had been draining, keeping up appearances, talking with those who still called her friend - or rival, for that matter. At the same time, shielding her Force signature so the undetected user might not pick up all that she had become. Especially in her own house, where her mother and sister had shown signs of Force use in the past, she didn't want anything to hint to them to the truth about her.
So here she sat, feeding off of the dark feelings, the raw emotions, giving her strength, rejuvenating her in a way sleep and food simply couldn't. Her entire body felt the waves of energy wash over her, as she thought of her own emotions, her own contempt of the world around her. And it strengthened her further.
Only when she felt ready, did she call on the holocron to see the next chapter of the story.
*****************************
300 years ago ...
Imri stood in what looked like a closet, D'Cera's presence, in the close-quarters seemingly unnoticed. Along the wall, vials of red liquid she assumed were blood samples, each labeled, and on a small table beneath, with a desk-lamp lit up, a series of petri dishes.
Imri's eyes were closed, one hand on one petri dish, the other on a second, and at first, nothing was happening. Then, D'Cera felt it. Soft at first, then the pulse of energy, the Force, flowing back and forth between Imri and the two petri dishes. That Force presence was growing stronger and stronger, Imri's hands trembling ever so slightly. And then, after a few minutes, it diminished, Imri opening his eyes and glancing down, pulling out a microscope from a side cabinet and placing one of the dishes beneath it. Studying for several minutes before smiling as he took out a notebook and began writing, speaking out loud as he did.
"The Force proves to be the most effective method of instilling the enzyme into human tissue. it keeps necessary cells intact, rather than destroys them. Unfortunately, indirect contact is insufficient for purposes of transfer. Furthermore, for genomic activity necessary to activate the enzyme, the gene carrying the enzyme must be mass produced. As the enzyme is recessive, activation requires a carrier to have no dominant gene counteracting the effects. Proposed solution: utilize sperm and egg cells to establish enzyme in new fetus. Will need test-"
His thoughts and his writings were interrupted by a loud bang behind him.
"Imri! your shift is starting! Time to stop playing with microscopes!"
Imri let out a frustrated sigh, turning his head behind him.
"I'll be out in a minute!"
He closed the notebook, tucking it into the cabinet, turned and opened the door, a shaft of light blinding for a minute before eyes adjusted.
There stood Rand, the same partner from the previous experiment, worse for the ware.
"Rand, you need to be more careful. People don't know about my experimentation, and if they find out, they will shut it down. I don't appreciate you shouting at me either."
Rand took the scolding with his own sigh.
"Sorry."
Imri shook his head, turning and closing the door to the small closet behind him, and making sure it was locked.
"How's it going in there?"
"We don't talk about it out here. What's on my list for today?"
Rand grabbed a datapad from his belt, beginning to scroll through it.
"You have a few people here suffering from cancer, one or two burn victims, and a couple with fertility problems"
"Are any of them cases we should be dealing with?"
"Your the healer, Imri. What do I know?"
***
A few hours later, Imri was about ready to strangle his next patient - some of those burn victims deserved their morsel of pain, for the things they did. Not to mention curing diseases wasn't exactly the jedi's main task. Remarkable what rules the so-called masters chose to follow. He was on the last appointment, glancing down at the datapad.
"So, what seems to be the problem?"
The man and woman were both younger looking, but both had pained looks on their faces. it was the man who spoke, ever glancing back to his wife.
"We ... we aren't able to have children. None of the doctors we've seen have been able to explain why, or how, or what we can do. There are fertility treatments, but ... well, we don't really have that kind of money"
Imri nodded his head, listening as patiently as he could.
"We were hoping, maybe, the jedi could figure out what's wrong - and make it better. We've always wanted children, ever since we got married. Is there anything you can do?"
Imri was prepared to respond no, and possibly, how stupid it was for a family who cannot afford to get treatment to try to have a family, which costs money.
But at that moment, he felt an intuition - a presence in the force, telling him to pay attention - and his eyes turned from the husband to the wife, silent as she was. She glanced back at him, her eyes filled with hope and despair, all at once. Imri could see something, deep within, and he could practically see his covert experiment come into play. He smiled, turning his gaze from her to him and back to her.
"I think I can help you - but it will take time. It's an experimental procedure I've been preparing. So long as you agree to abide by certain conditions, I think I can help you have your dream."
Both of them smiled broadly at the thought, glancing at each other with love before turning back to him.
"Anything we can do, we'll do it"
"Excellent."
Imri shook their hands.
"By the way, I am called Jedi Imri. What are your names?"
The husband again spoke.
"My name is Darryl Winton. And this is my wife, Persephone"
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
School certainly seemed like a dull waste of time - who had time to study, when you were busy trying to take over the galaxy and exact revenge on, oh, just about everyone?
Being at home was little better, with the over-protective, over-attentive 'mother', the brooding 'brother', the distant 'sister', and (despite his claims to change), the seemingly ever absent 'father' - now busy reclaiming his corporate empire.
Darth D'Cera had never been a nature-freak, but this rotten tree where she was spending her time had become a place of solace and sanctuary, to get away from the mundane.
That, and the compelling tale that was slowly unfolding before her, each new chapter revealing something new about herself, her past, and the keys to power.
As she took hold of the holocron this evening, instead of the vision appearing in a blur of smoke, it appeared as if the hollowed tree itself was expanding, growing wider and wider, the open space ballooning outward.
The wood, smoothing out, and cracks forming into windows that revealed the Coruscant skyline ...
*****************************
300 years ago ...
the Jedi High Council Chamber, at the top of the Jedi Temple, Darth D'Cera finding herself standing in the middle of it, the afternoon sun casting an orange glow in the room, illuminating the faces of the council. The faces were solemn, and even slightly accusatory, and not yet had a word been spoken.
In the center of the room, the Jedi Imri stood, awaiting some fate or judgment.
One master spoke first.
"Jedi Imri, we have learned that you have been attempting to manipulate cells, to use your power to cause an infertile woman to become pregnant, and create a specifically designed fetus. Is this correct?"
Imri remained silent, and his silence was taken as admission.
"Unacceptable, this behavior is" The wrinkly, short, green jedi master rose from his cushioned seat and walked several steps toward Imri.
"Interfere with the balance of life, the jedi do not. Servants of the Force, are we, not its masters"
Imri stared down at the floor in silence, and the little jedi master returned to his seat, the others on the council nodding agreement with the sage words.
"Jedi Imri, your behavior here is one of a long list of acts that go against the jedi code. Your skills in the clinic are admirable, but your behavior and attitude cannot continue. This is your final warning. If we find that you continue with your experimentation, you will be expelled from the jedi order."
Imri raised his gaze, his face blank of emotions but his eyes spoke of defiance. Still, there was little he could do, standing here surrounded by the leaders of the order. Without verbalizing a word, he simply bowed stiffly, turned, and stepped out of the chamber.
Darth D'Cera watched as he walked around the bend in the cooridor, then broke into a sprint.
"Who do they think they are? Telling me what I can and cannot do? Those old fools don't realize what we could do, what we could have!"
"No, they don't"
Imri stopped short, turning around, and finding no one in the cooridor with him.
"Who ...who's there?"
Imri could see no one, not at first, but then the voice again.
"You need to ask yourself, young jedi ... how is it the council learned about your noble quest?"
Imri kept looking around, but then his eyes lit up with awareness - and anger.
"Rand"
"If you are to continue with your experiment, he must be dealt with ..."
Imri looked around again, still hunting for the voice.
"Don't linger, jedi. You have work to do"
And Imri nodded his head, heading to the turbolift and disappearing, leaving Darth D'Cera in the cooridor, the image beginning to fade away.
*****************************
"Who's voice was it that spoke to Imri, in the hallway? I saw no one there."
The holocron in her hands flashed.
"The sith learned long ago that the best way to hide is in plain sight. The Jedi never suspected their temple was home to so many dark spirits. Spirits that watched the jedi Imri, and would encourage him in his quest."
"What became of the jedi Imri? of his experiments? what about Rand, and Persephone Winton?"
"All in good time, D'Cera. All in good time"
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
The grand tones of the door chimes echo throughout the main floor of the house. There had been an increased security presence surrounding the estate since the children returned. No one could get onto the grounds let alone near the house without passing through the checkpoint. A visitor at the door would mean they had been cleared. Kylie wanders through the foyer, half expecting to find Muriel or Roman standing on the steps but is surprised to find a young woman dressed in neutral robes.
"Good afternoon," she says. "May I help you?"
"Yes, I am looking for Lady Celeste Masterton."
"And who may I say is here?"
"Forgive me, my name is…"
"Nevylinn?" Garron says from behind them.
The girl smiles, "Mr. Prescott, how nice to see you again."
Kylie turns, confused.
"Friend of yours?"
"Kylie, this is the Jedi Nevylinn."
Garron had mentioned her many times when recounting the tale of how they rescued Dane and Gemma from Korriban. They were sent away with her to Naboo.
"Oh, right. The one who let Dane traipse off to Corellia by himself. Please, do come in."
Nevylinn walks past her and follows Garron deeper into the residence. Kylie closes the door and sighs. They had had enough unexpected visitors causing undue stress on the Lady of the house. As perturbed as she is that Dane, a child, had managed to escape their hideout and flee hundreds of thousands of lightyears alone, Kylie is more alarmed by what she saw Gemma do. She always knew the Force was strong with Lady Masterton thus it was passed to Melanie. Gemma was a Force sensitive and Lady Masterton had taught them about it but that was as far as it went. There had been no formal training throughout their childhood. Then Gemma returns and wields Melanie's saber as if it were a mere toy, giving Kylie reason to believe she had spent the ensuing months doing far more than hiding. This concern is tempered with a notion that someone with those particular set of skills may help prevent any future harm from befalling them. She wonders if Lady Masterton knows about this.
Kylie trails behind as Garron speaks to the Jedi.
"We were all surprised to hear about the recent registration laws enacted on Chandaar. I hope the public sentiment has not turned too far out of the Jedi's favor."
Nevylinn frowns.
"The New Year has begun and the first mandates have taken effect. Registration across the capital is already underway. The Jedi have voluntarily registered but the Speaker has taken a hard line approach to the issue."
"Then you will be pleased to know my sister has recently returned to Chandaar to help appeal those laws."
"I heard," Nevylinn says. "I was relieved to see she and the CSA liaison were exonerated in the trial. Counselor Prescott is said to be backing Senator Soldys of Corellia's push for a full repeal."
"Has any progress been made in discovering the identity of this dark Jedi that kidnapped the children?"
Nevylinn swallows hard, still unable to admit it was her own flesh and blood.
"We are still investigating."
"What a surprise," Kylie murmurs.
Garron throws her a look.
They enter the formal living room to find Celeste reading a book. She glances up and sets the book aside before standing.
"Lady Masterton," Garron says. "May I present the Jedi Nevylinn."
Celeste's clear blue eyes brighten and a smile spreads across her lips. Nevylinn is stunned by how beautiful she is in person. She had seen pictures, photage but they scarcely do her justice. The genes that made Melanie and Gemma are undeniable and striking. Celeste embraces Nevylinn tightly.
"Thank you. We owe you all a debt of gratitude for your help in rescuing our children."
"It was our pleasure."
Celeste steps back, flustered and emotional.
"Where are my manners? Welcome to our home. Is there anything we can get you?"
"Water would be great, thank you."
She nods to a service droids who disappears into the hall.
"What brings you out to our part of the galaxy? The Corporate Sector is an unusual venue for the Jedi, is it not?"
"I understand how it may seem that way but I have been asked to liaise with the Direx Board. The Republic does regular business with the Sector, even more so after the Imperial assault on the Federation, but it has been some time since we have had anyone here to represent our interests."
"The Speaker sent you?"
"Speaker Apteen outlined a number of tasks for the Jedi but the Council assigned me here where I can facilitate operations on the Republic's behalf."
Celeste nods.
"Before you move on to Etti IV, you must stay with us this evening. I insist."
"You are most gracious, Lady Masterton."
"Kylie will make up a room for you."
Garron smirks.
Kylie and Nevylinn exchange glances before the former leaves the room. Voices can be heard coming down the hall.
Celeste smiles.
"That will be the children getting home from school."
Dahlia, Dane and Gemma bound onto the scene but are startled by the presence of someone new. Gemma lights right up.
"Jedi Nevylinn!"
"Yes," Celeste says. "She will be staying with us before conducting business on Etti IV."
Dane makes a face. He briefly considers she may still be pissed about being stranded on Naboo then remembers he doesn't care.
Dahlia narrows her eyes. A Jedi? Here?
Gemma rushes forward and hugs Nevylinn.
"I'm so happy to see you!"
"I am too, Gemma. How have you all bee adjusting?"
"We're good," Gemma says proudly. "We got back just in time for school to start but there was a lot of make-up work that we missed at the end of last term."
"Which you all completed promptly. We are thankful the ordeal did not set them back too terribly much. Valor Prep is a rather intensive learning environment."
"Speaking of," Dahlia interrupts. "We have homework."
Dane waves and follows Dahlia out of the room.
Nevylinn watches Dahlia leave with Master Agnant's words lingering in her head. On the staircase, Dane is vibrating with hostility.
"Hey, bro. What's your prob?"
"She is so annoying."
"The Jedi?"
"Yeah," he grumbles. "She's the one who took us off The Wheel and don't call me bro. We're not even related."
They hadn't really had a chance to discuss things since they had been back. Dane had been reclusive and aggressive since they returned. The school counselor said it was part of his coping mechanism as he processed the trauma. Dahlia thinks its wildly amusing.
"True, not biologically."
"Not at all."
"That bothers you?"
"Whatever," he says, rounding the corner at the top of the stairs. "It doesn't matter."
"Clearly it does."
"No, it doesn't and as long as the Jedi doesn't make us do those stupid exercises and meditations again I'll be fine."
Dahlia stops, "Wait, what exercises and meditations?"
"You know, Force stuff. Stuff I can't do but Gemma can. It was always about her anyway."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it's true. She has powers just like you do but here's a newsflash, Dahl. No one cares."
Dane slaps the control as he enters his room and the door hisses shut behind him. Dahlia turns, eyes lowered. This was certainly news to her. She knew Dane and Gemma were relocated for safety reasons prior to the attack at The Wheel but assumed they had laid low with some rigid Espos agent while she was being tortured by Adubell. The adults had not discussed any of the specifics in front of them in fear it would further traumatize them. Now it seems there is much more to the story. But how much more?
Maybe it's time she found out how Gemma spent her summer.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Later that evening, Dahlia pads down the hall and taps on Gemma's door. She hears a voice faintly from the other side. She enters to find Gemma in her nightgown, brushing through her long, blonde hair.
"Hi, Gemma."
"Dahlia," she says, turning on the vanity stool. "What are you up to?"
She shifts into a casual tone.
"Nothing much. I was just checking in, seeing how you are doing."
"I'm good, maybe a little sleepy."
"There was quite a bit of excitement today what with the Jedi coming to visit. I always assumed you and Dane got stuck with one of dad's boring agents after you left The Wheel."
"Garron and the Espos agents stayed to look after dad. Nevylinn took us somewhere safe while the others decided how to go back for you. I'm so sorry, Dahlia."
"For what?"
"That they couldn't get to you when they got me, Dane and Riley out."
"I managed," Dahlia says evenly.
"You shouldn't have had to."
She moves to the side of the bed.
"That's sweet but it all worked out in the end. Where did the Jedi take you?"
"To mother's Estate on Naboo. It's by the lake and so very beautiful."
"I've seen pictures. What did you guys do there?"
Gemma sets the brush down and stares into the mirror. Dahlia is watching her very closely.
"Well, we were upset and scared. Nevylinn taught us some exercises to calm ourselves down. Dane wasn't having it at all and behaved like a real jerk."
"What kind of exercises?"
"Deep breathing and meditation. Simple things to help keep my thoughts and fears off you and dad and everything else that was going on."
Dahlia narrows her gaze.
"Did she teach you anything else?"
"No," Gemma answers with a sincerity that surprises her. "After Dane stole the shuttle we decided to make the best of things. We took a lot of walks, played games and read some of the classics mom had lying around. It was nice. Why do you ask?"
"I'm just curious. You are special, Gemma."
"So are you."
Dahlia steps forward and wraps a blonde curl around her finger.
"Sleep well, sister."
"Goodnight, Dahlia."
And then she is gone. Gemma sighs as Nevylinn emerges from the closet.
"That was curious, don't you think?"
"Both she and Dane have been acting strangely since we've been back."
"Now you see why you must keep your abilities hidden. There is concern that something stirs in the Corporate Sector which is why they sent me here. I am to watch over you while maintaining a presence to represent Republic interests in Mondder."
"You think something is wrong with Dahlia?"
"The Jedi believe something may have happened to her on Korriban. It has been suggested that you, Dane and Riley were meant to be rescued and Dahlia left behind. We do not know the extent of what the Sith did to her which is why you must be extremely mindful."
"I've kept up on my studies and practice. I grow stronger each day."
"And no one knows of these abilities you have?"
Gemma frowns, "Only one."
"Who?"
"Kylie. She saw me with Melanie's saber when I first got back."
Nevylinn inhales, considering this.
"That explains her demeanor toward me. Is this a secret you believe she will keep?"
"I think so. Kylie has known us since we were infants. She's like family and she is very protective of us. She knows the history, the stories and the danger. She doesn't want anything to happen to us."
"I am glad to hear it but until we know the extent of Dahlia's experience with the Sith, it would be wise to limit your exposure."
Gemma nods, "Of course, Master Nevylinn. I won't let it happen again."
"I must travel to Etti IV in the morning but we will be in touch. You have the com I gave you?"
Gemma extends a hand, calling the device to her palm.
Nevylinn smiles.
"You have grown strong, young Masterton. Your connection to the Force runs deep. Sleep now and we will speak again soon."
As she slips silently from the room, Gemma takes comfort in the Jedi's praise. She had worked hard to grow in her abilities but it had been difficult to keep it all hidden from those she loves. As much as she wants to confess to Alka or Preston, she knows it may put them at risk. So she carries on alone. As she curls up on in bed, drifting off toward sleep, her mind cannot help but recall Nevylinn's words about Dahlia. If she was never meant to be rescued, what did they do to her and why?
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
"She's lying, isn't she?"
D'Cera was pacing in the cavernous space of the old tree, the hovering image of the sith from the holocron giving an almost arrogant smile.
"What do you think?"
"I think of course she is - but I wanted to confirm it with you"
"And how am I supposed to do that, Darth D'Cera? I am not omnipotent. I am just a memory. It is your own observations you must use to determine the truth. Your adopted sister was with a jedi for months. Do you believe all she learned was meditation?"
D'Cera stopped pacing turning to face him.
"No"
"So the question is not whether she was telling the truth - the question is, why was she lying to you. And more importantly, how much is she hiding from you."
That thought made D'Cera take pause.
"If she was lying, it's because she doesn't trust me"
"astute"
"Could she know that I have become a sith?"
"It's possible - but how? Unless you gave it away"
"No - I've been careful. But perhaps I need to be more careful. And keep a closer eye on that sister of mine."
"And her jedi friend"
D'Cera nodded - Nevylinn's presence here was a nuisance, and possibly a danger. She had a social ladder to climb at school, and other pieces to move into place. Dealing with jedi now, this early in the game was a complication, to be sure. But If she had learned anything while on Korriban, it was adaptability. And she would. For now, though, she still had to learn about the past.
"Show me the next piece of the story."
The tree faded to the tale from the past ...
***********
300 years ago ...
Jedi Imri was standing at a window of the clinic, looking out at the night sky of Coruscant, watching the entranceway carefully. His voice was firmly set, but he allowed himself a smile as he saw Darryl and Persephone Winton making their way up the path.
Imri stepped away from the window, heading to the door and opening it just before the couple had reached it.
A bit surprised, the two stopped suddenly.
"how did you know we were coming"
Imri smiled
"I could say it was the Force - but truth is, I was waiting by the window. Please come in"
They stepped inside and Imri led the couple down a cooridor toward an examination room. The two were holding each other's hands, glancing about.
"It's quiet"
"The clinic doesn't have a lot of night time patients. You two are special"
"How is that"
Imri paused a moment before answering.
"Because you are helping me too. And there are some who don't like the idea of the jedi helping in the way I am."
"oh"
They reached the room and Imri had Persephone get on the examination table.
"Now, we did the procedure last time, but this is a follow up. If things went the way we hope, I'm just going to repeat the steps, to make sure any fetus is viable, strong. If not, we'll arrange for another session to try again"
Persephone lifted her shirt away from her stomach, and Imri placed a hand just beneath her naval, Darryl holding Persephone's hand. Imri closed his eyes, a look of concentration on his face. Darryl and Persephone watched him, expectantly, anxiously, as sweat began to roll down his face.
It was several minutes like this before Imri finally opened his eyes, a triumphant look on his face.
"Well?"
"Well, Darryl, Persephone - I have unexpected but good news for you. You aren't having one baby. Not JUST one baby, that is"
Persephone's voice had trepidation and curiosity as she spoke
"What do you mean"
"You are having four."
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Concordia Township
Dahlia stares at herself in the large, oval vanity mirror in her bedroom. She dabs a bit of crimson lipstick and makes a face. The family is being forced to attend the Annual Atrii Fundraiser and while the Atrii Estate is by far the most grand and on the outskirts of Concordia, none of the children are thrilled about it.
Dane threw a giant fit which finally caused Rutherford to haul him by the arm into his room for a stern talking to. The kid had been increasingly defiant and the excuse of the kidnapping and trauma was wearing mighty thin. They had made allowances for all of them but Dane is the only one who had yet to settle into a more traditional routine. He was sullen, snarky and prone to bouts of extreme apathy when even the smallest request was made. Normally, Celeste would attribute this to the burgeoning quest for identity in the early stages of adolescence but even she grew weary of the spectacle.
Gemma's behavior is perfectly polite and she acquiesces without as much as a whimper or whine. Kylie helps her into a simple, white dress but seldom makes eye contact. She feels that she may make Kylie nervous given what she knows but Gemma isn't about to cause a scene before a party. Dane was doing enough of that as it is.
Dahlia is not in the mood for casual banter as she views all the parents and executives as nothing more than socially acceptable monsters. They tear each other to pieces on Etti IV then return to D'ian where they grin and complement one another in expensively tailored suits and evening gowns. The charade must be exhausting but Dahlia considers it practice. It is a skill she would also need to master as she moves forward with her plan. Besides, she is curious to see how the upper echelon of society would react to her presence now that they know who she really is. To add fuel to the fire, Dahlia returned to the Winton cruiser on a landing pad behind the Gellar Estate and rifled through the closets of Karen's wardrobe. There are over two million credits worth of vintage Raga'Ana couture carefully pressed and hung on racks. She is a little young for some of the designs but she finds a tight, black and gold beaded mini dress that is sure to spark more than just a few conversations. She pairs the dress with simple, strappy black heels and gold hoop earrings. Her crimson hair is pulled back and pinned with several loose tendrils. The makeup is shimmering with smokey undertones and a matte finish. The gold and black above her lids make her emerald eyes vibrant and predatory.
It is exactly the look she is going for.
She joins her family at the bottom of the stairs. Dane stands next to Rutherford, both in tails. Celeste wears a pale blue, floor length gown with a white fur wrap around her shoulders. Her blond hair is pulled back tight into a perfect bun. Gemma looks like a dainty school girl as Kylie helps her into a fitted white trench coat. Garron is out near the hoverlimo as the family descends the steps. Rutherford helps Celeste in then Dane and Gemma. He appraises Dahlia skeptically.
"You don't think that's a bit…risqué?"
"For who?"
"A fourteen year old girl."
She shrugs.
"If children are supposed to be seen and not heard, then why not been seen in something fabulous?"
"Can't argue that, princess."
She curtsies and he grins. Despite his trepidations, she always did have a sense of humor that amused him to no end. Yet he cannot get the conversation he and Nevylinn had out of his head. It weighed on him heavily but he had yet to see proof even though the Jedi suggested he didn't need to see something he knew was true.
Garron holds the door for him.
"Have fun tonight."
"We will," he says, sliding into the limo. "We shouldn't be back too late, depending on the weather."
"Take your time. We'll be fine here."
He nods and the door closes. The hoverlimo idles momentarily before racing off down the long, stone drive. Garron watches the red tail lights grow smaller and fade into the distance as Kylie stops at the bottom of the steps. She pulls her shawl tighter around her.
"Let's go then. It's freezing out here."
Garron scoffs, turning to follow her back up the steps.
"Aren't we bossy today?"
"Like it matters to you."
"It does," he says once they are inside and moving through the foyer. "You've been edgy lately and borderline inhospitable. That's not like you at all."
Kylie groans, "I always did love your little lectures."
He stops her in front of the main staircase.
"I'm not lecturing, I'm just concerned. We've all be through a lot but if something is bothering you I want you to tell me. You and I run this household so we need to be on the same page."
"Who says we aren't?"
"I do."
"You're wrong."
"Am I? Then why are you suddenly so distant? Is it something your Imperial beau did? Forgive me if I'm not completely shocked. And before you get outraged and tell me to mind my own business, I'm not going there. I've never seen you this cold before. Lord Gellar and Lady Masterton may be too preoccupied to see it but surely you realize the children must. They rely on you, Kylie."
"They are more resourceful than you realize."
Garron draws back, narrowing his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
Kylie's face is slack and serious.
"I think the children may have learned a little more than how to pass the time."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D’ian: Surface: Concordia Township: Atrii Estate
The hoverlimo approaches the high gates of the Atrii Estate that begin to open when the driver verifies their identity and invitation. They travel several kilometers up through a dense forest road until they come to a clearing in which the Estate appears. It is brightly lit and decorated as a heavy snow begins to fall, slow and silent. Rutherford exits the limo first and helps Celeste out. Once the children are situated, they head as a collective up the steps and are granted access by two well-dressed but heavily armed security agents. With all of the dignitaries and officials present tonight, the Espos would be out in full force.
The family moves through the foyer and onto a carpeted landing above the massive ballroom where everyone has gathered. The ritzy crowd is dressed to the nines, holding glasses of champagne and conversing amongst small groups. It is the grown up version of high school, cliques and clans, all for a good cause. Dahlia steps between her parents and stands front and center, a move that catches more than just a few glances. Conversation throughout the room falters momentarily as all eyes turn in a singular direction. Dahlia purses her lips and sets her steely gaze over the crowd. It goes over about as well as one would expect and exactly as she hoped.
A Winton among them.
Murmurs follow the silence and Rutherford takes the lead with Celeste on his arm. Gemma is on one side and Dane, who rolls his eyes like this is the worst possible thing he could ever be doing, is on the other. Dahlia sashays her way behind them. There is admiration in the way Rutherford and Celeste allow these stares to deflect off them without so much as a frown. They will be a united front as a family for the sake of their children – at least that is what they believe in their minds. It’s noble if not somewhat naïve. Celeste waves at Miranda Aguilar and they begin to veer off as if on auto-pilot. It will be a lot of forced grinning and polite but clipped conversation for a while and the children mostly perform as expected. It is over relatively quickly and they are released to their peers, relegated to another part of the estate.
Dahlia weaves methodically through the crowd, watching the bewildered and frightened expressions cease the features of the CSA elite. She does have to wonder what they are thinking; she can read them like articles on a datapad. So obvious, so trite. They think she is beautiful, dangerous, evil, and suspicious. The things they think about Rutherford and Celeste are worse, like they had been harboring a fugitive or killer for all these years. Some radiate with pity and others curiosity. Either way, she has made the impression she needed to.
Gemma practically has to drag an apathetic Dane with her. He only livens up when he sees Roman standing near Kier in the next room. She lets go of his arm and finds Alka and Preston at a table with plates of small snacks. Dahlia walks boldly up to Trichelle who looks as if she is holding Muriel hostage in a conversation. She turns, glancing over Dahlia.
"Love the dress," Trichelle says. "No, seriously. I love it."
"I believe you. It's.."
"..a Raga'Ana. Vintage couture. Part of your sister's collection, no doubt. It's stunning, Dahlia. People are still staring."
Dahlia smirks, "I'm sorry, are we friends now?"
"For tonight at least."
Muriel forces a smile, "You do look lovely."
"Thank you. So do you. One of your mother's?"
She nods, "From the set of The Coruscant That Was."
"Steamy."
Trichelle wastes no time shifting topics.
"You're parents, excuse me, you're adoptive parents are certainly going to take some heat over your presence tonight. The Winton thing is kind of a touchy subject."
"It's called generating a buzz."
"A buzz for what?"
Dahlia shrugs, batting her eyes.
"You'll see."
Tobias appears, holding two glasses of champagne. He hands one to Muriel.
"Where did you get those? I want one."
"So get one," Tobias says. "It's not like anyone is paying attention. They are here to be seen and throw credits around."
Trichelle excuses herself.
Dahlia tilts her head.
"So, you're drinking now? That's new."
Muriel laughs nervously; clutching the stem of the glass like it might float away.
"You were gone so long…I just…it's nothing."
"Relax, Dahlia. It's a party."
That's when she feels it. There are no exact words for the feeling but it encompasses almost all of the senses. She turns, glancing back over her shoulder to find a rigid looking Gemma staring in the same direction. She narrows her eyes. Breathing exercises and meditations, my ass. She knows what the feeling means. It means there is another Force sensitive here tonight. Probably more than one but only one that registers with any intensity. She cannot place it exactly but it's coming from within the estate. The crowd in this room is mostly peers, some a little older or younger but before she can really seek it out; it fades into the white noise of the chatter.
Trichelle returns with a glass of champagne and Kier. He looks at Dahlia longingly yet with guilt in his eyes. The revelation of her identity makes her even more attractive to him. There is a danger there and he doesn't quite know what that means. It is electric and primal and Trichelle glances menacingly between them. Behind them, Dane is excitedly talking with Roman but Roman's eyes wander across the room to Preston as he leans against the far wall in his tailored tux and melancholy expression. Alka takes his arm as Gemma slips away, around the corner and down the hall. She follows the feeling, faint as it may be, up the stairs and across a long set of corridors. She comes to a door and raps lightly as she enters.
Demaris Atrii kneels on the floor in her sea-foam frilly party dress, hands outstretched and open, looking up at Gemma standing there. She recognizes the meditation from the pose and the connection through which it serves to achieve. Demaris gasps, standing quickly, unsure of what to do.
"I just needed to get away. Clear my head."
"It's okay," Gemma says softly.
"Is it?"
"Yes but we have to go now."
Demaris frowns, "Why?"
"Because not everyone will understand."
"What do you…?"
"Now, we have to go now," Gemma chirps, grabbing her hand and pulling her out of the room. Despite the fact that Gemma is a year younger, Demaris trusts what she says and begins to run without a real explanation. They round the corner and dart across another corridor. Demaris stops, her voice a hushed whisper.
"This way!"
She touches a panel on the wall which causes a section to slide open. The girls disappear down the stairs as the wall closes behind them. Dahlia rounds the corner, sensing something but seeing nothing. She had noticed Gemma's absence but no one seemed to have seen her leave. She follows the signature she has known her whole life which led her here, close to where the other signature had been. She returns to the party to find Gemma standing with Alka and Preston, just as she had been. That sneaky little bitch.
Trichelle is talking with Demaris. Kier is zoning out. Tobias whispers something in Muriel's ear.
Dahlia squares her shoulders and joins in the conversation.
-TBC
-
"Red alert! Red alert! It's a catastrophe
But don't worry, don't panic
Ain't nothin' goin' on but history, yeah
It's alright, don't panic."
-Basement Jaxx
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
The murky outlines of a living room come into focus and a woman in a tight black dress and heels walks through it. Everything is slowed, distorted. The woman pauses in front of a mirror and leans forward to fasten an earring and her face becomes recognizable as that of Valerie Gellar. She pushes dark hair over her shoulder and turns, a cool smirk pulling lightly at the corners of her maroon stained lips.
"I'm never really gone, am I?"
Several other women enter the room, striding across the scene in a variety of outfits – an agent, a diplomat, a mechanic, and so on. They all hold a long wand attached to a mask of Valerie's face in front of their own. They take positions around the room and pose each with a different hair color and style.
"Like a god," Valerie says without a trace of irony. "So many created in my image."
Riley appears on the periphery, moving between each of the women who grasp and claw at him. He seems confused, interacting with each as though he knows them before walking to the next. He stops in front of Valerie and turns to stare straight ahead as she places a hand down over his chest.
The women laugh simultaneously but it sounds hollow, almost mechanical, as they tilt their masks to the side. A grid of circuitry sparks and flashes where their faces should be, their laughter turning into a high pitched multi-tonal shriek. Valerie's face melts off the bone along with the rest of her flesh leaving nothing but the dress hanging from the skeleton. Riley's hand moves up, fingers curling around her radius as he looks on, frightened and distraught. The shrieking fades as the women replace the masks and Valerie's mandible begins to move, her voice thick and slow.
"Did you really think he would be safe with her?"
*
Gemma's eyes pop open. She shutters deeply, tangled in the sheets and covered in a layer of sweat. She tries to swallow but finds her throat is dry and her tongue heavy. Her heart pounds in her chest and it takes several minutes of careful breathing and meditation to calm herself down. The images linger in the forefront of her mind along with what would appear to be another warning. She had warned her father of Riley's predicament once before…too late. Melanie's words reverberate past the mysterious symbolism.
"An enemy with the face of a fallen friend."
Valerie's face.
Mara's face.
The face of those who held them hostage.
How many of them could there possibly be? How many did they see bringing them food and water? They were dressed exactly the same. For all they knew it could have been the same one. Or meant to look that way.
Gemma is frantic yet cautious. She tries to remember the details of the nightmare, attempting to wade through the pieces that could tell her exactly what to look for. Her dreams have always been vivid yet vague. Not everything was immediately apparent nor was she experienced enough to spot all the clues. She considers calling Nevylinn but it would only serve to compound the issue and raise more questions she didn't have answers to. She remembers her training and eases herself back into bed. She would need to process what she had seen in order to be concise. Calling Riley would only scare him and could risk sounding crazy. She knows he is safe on Corellia with Mara under the watchful eye of CorSec.
But how safe?
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
The fight started over dinner. Celeste's innocuous questions about their days had been met with yet another round of Dane's hostility. Rutherford had had enough and bellowed his protests to this behavior across the massive table. Dane erupts, screaming at his parents to leave him alone as he storms from the room. Gemma looks mortified but Dahlia watches with a growing amusement. Celeste and Rutherford are at the ends of their rope with him and, ever the performer, Dahlia offers to help.
"Let me talk to him."
She excuses herself from the table and saunters through the house and up the stairs. Her mind had been divergent as of late. On one hand, her family and social life needed careful attention. On the other, the holocron's revelations continue to amaze. Persephone. So, that's where the story began. She wonders if her predecessors had been smart enough to look for answers but then again, they would have had to know which questions to ask.
At Dane's door, she raps lightly.
"Go away!" he shouts from inside.
Dahlia ignores him and enters, waiting until the door closes behind her.
"You are a real pain in the ass, you know that?"
He sits up on his bed, glaring with a malice and rage that delights her every sense.
"What part of 'go away' don’t you understand? I'm not in the mood for you and your stupid crap right now. Save it for someone who cares!"
"Oh yeah? Tough. We're talking so deal with it."
He hops off the bed and attempts to move past her.
"Fine, I'll just go somewhere else then-"
She gives him a light tap which, aided by the Force, and sends him sailing back onto the bed. He crashes in a heap of surprise and alarm.
"I said deal. Now sit still and listen."
Dane tries to collect himself, having just been manhandled by a girl.
"What do you want?"
"Your anger is misplaced, Dane. It's not gaining you any ground. You have obtained no leverage with it. All you continue to do is dig your own hole deeper and unless you want them to yank you out of Valor Prep and send you to the Espos Academy or worse, an institution, you will listen closely."
"Like I want advice from you," Dane snarls. "You are a Winton."
Dahlia smirks.
"Is that what this is about? The real me? That's funny because you used to think I was so interesting before."
"I used to think a lot of things."
"Tell me about it," she says casually. "Everything is different now. The important part is what we choose to do with it."
"With what?"
"Our talents."
He laughs.
"I don't have talents like you or Gemma. Unlike some people, I don’t come from a line of Force-wielding maniacs."
"No but you do come from a line of leaders and corporate titans. The Gellar's are resourceful, powerful. They are inventive, devious and clever. You don't give yourself enough credit, Dane and you don't need the Force to be special."
"That's what Valerie said."
The instant he says it, he regrets it but it's out there. He clenches his jaw and tries to avert Dahlia's now very curious stare.
"Valerie? What does she have to do with anything?"
"Nothing."
"Do you see her, Dane?"
"Shut up."
"Does she appear to you? Tell me."
"No."
"I see Karen sometimes. She appeared to me after we were kidnapped. She showed me things…on Coruscant."
"Coruscant was destroyed."
"You are missing the point. They appear to us to impart knowledge, things they knew from the past that can help us in the present."
Dane recalls everything Valerie had ever told him, back on Corellia and here on D'ian. The pieces of their lives fill in the gaps between what he thinks he knows. The breakthrough to clarity is overwhelming.
"My family was manipulated by the Winton's, betrayed by the Patten's and seduced by the Masterton's."
"So they were. That makes you angry?"
"Very."
Dahlia nods.
"It should but acting out in such a way will not yield the results you seek."
"How do you know what I want?"
"I don't," she says. "I'm only here to offer my assistance to get it once you've figured it out."
"Like I would trust you."
"Entirely up to you but take note how the parents aren't breathing down my neck. It's called tact, Dane. You don't have it. You have raw, unbridled rage which isn't useful in this case. A shuttle all revved up but stuck in park isn't going anywhere. Your outbursts are just pushing them closer to the edge. Think about that. Are you ready for what happens when you finally push them over?"
The options present themselves and none are ideal.
"I don't want that."
"Then you have to be smart about it. Suck it up and bide your time. We're part of a legacy, Dane. Our names hold weight. They open doors. Imagine the possibilities if we play our cards just right. If we own who we are then there will be no one to stop us from getting whatever we want. I can help you."
"Why would you do that?"
Dahlia shrugs, "Just because we're not family doesn't mean we can't be allies."
"Allies," he says, considering it. "What's in it for you?"
"It's in my best interest."
"I'm sure that's what your father said."
"Ouch," she says. "I like it."
They both laugh.
"You're evil."
"So are you. I just wear it better. Now are you with me or not?"
"Fine."
"Good. Now, let's go back downstairs and apologize. It will be the start of your public healing process."
Dane slides off the bed and walks to the door. Dahlia follows and she could not be prouder. The kids got real potential. Gemma may be secretive and self-righteous but that doesn't hold a candle to the combined powers of their deception. Rutherford and Celeste will be so thrilled at the turnaround. They will have their perfect family back from the brink of disaster.
That delusion leaves plenty of room for her plans.
-TBC
-
"What lies beyond the fringe of the woods?"
(https://a1-images.myspacecdn.com/images04/6/182b503f849d48acbbbb4921a48bf6ac/full.jpg)
http://youtu.be/bRazgMj_cfE
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Dane being her ally was certainly key to future plans. Needless to say, he would not be privy to everything, but he would be extremely useful when the time came at controlling the Corporate Sector, while she took hold of the Republic and the Empire. Whether Dane would be a puppet or given the respect as a conspirator - that would depend on him, his competence, his ruthlessness, and whether D'Cera could keep him under control.
"You've done well, tonight, daughter"
D'Cera smirked as the image of her father appeared in the old hollow tree.
"I bet you've said that a lot to your daughters"
"Not as much - Alexia never accepted the compliment, and Karen never deserved it"
"So I'm like Alexia then?"
"Not quite so insane - be careful about that"
"You're one to talk about careful"
"I wasn't - I was clever enough until I grew too arrogant, then made a mistake. Now I'm dead"
"A lesson I'll take to heart"
"That - and be careful of the young Gellar. They can be ruthless for you or against you."
"Noted"
Her father's image disappeared as D'Cera grabbed the holocron, activating the next chapter of the tale
***********
300 years ago ...
D'Cera heard the whisper, but the room she was in was dark.
"bound by blood ..."
She glanced around the room but couldn't find it's source. Still her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and she could see she was in a dormitory, with the jedi Imri sleeping.
The voice was his own, mumbling under his breath, sweat pouring down his face.
"bound by blood ..."
At the same time, she heard another, similar whisper from behind her. She turned and found herself looking into another room, also dimmed. Persephone Winton, noticeably pregnant was also sleeping, tossing and turning as the words escaped her lips.
"destiny ..."
She could hear them both, simultaneously, and then, as if their words condensed into a mist, she saw them, a pale grayish color of words hovering in the air between them.
And she could feel the weight of them, the words, spoken now in unison by these two people.
"Bound by blood, their destiny
Offspring of young Persephone
Found has been a power old
Never 'fore the secret told
Discovered by a jedi shunned
The ripples now have just begunned
FOUR won't see their mother's face
Separated by stars and space
FOUR names will be their own to take
and separate paths they each will make
The eldest boy shall keep the name
And ruthlessly will rule the game
Daughter one will heal and save
And guard the light as one so brave
Daughter two will lack in trust
be strong and fierce with power lust
Daughter three, idealist dear
Will grow from love yet also fear.
These FOUR will span the galaxy
Till brought again to destiny
When Empire will burn to ground
The FOUR will be their tightest bound
Two of light and two of dark
the contrasts forever stark
Amidst betrayal, lies and death
Their names whispered on every breath
And whence the FOUR all die in vain
This truth will hold yet again:
Master of darkness, rules beside
Daughter of darkness, his deadly bride
Eternity theirs, with one exception
A child born of light's conception
Yet in their blood, there lies a key
to break free of this destiny
And darkness will consume the light
Defeat the enemies of night
Body's weakness, mortality
Will vanish with brutality
The light can end in triumph too
By breaking up the darkest two
And blotting out the evil name
So only memory recalls the same
Until one wins, the dark or light
Repeat, repeat eternal fight
Will shape the course of galaxy
A FOURsome they will always be
Bound by blood, their destiny
Offspring of young Persephone"
The words hovered in the air even as the rest of the scene disappeared back into the present and the hollow of the tree, and then they too vanished.
"What does it mean?"
"You've heard of the persephonea prophesy, yes?"
"Of course"
"That was just the tip of the iceberg - a prophesy for one time. This is the original, the prophesy that spawned the one you know."
"But what does it mean?"
"you will learn soon enough"
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Valor Prep
Alka Dawning arches back away from the barre to bourrée across the polished studio floor. She glides with an expertise of a ballerina twice her age and the instructors have all hailed her as the second coming in classical dance. There are rumors she has been mentioned by name within Olivette, the premiere company in the Corporate Sector. Their dance troupe is famous across the galaxy and many travel great distances just to see them perform. Acceptance into Olivette would mean great things for Alka, as if the pressure to succeed wasn't already intense. The Dawning's are highly competitive and are known for their tempers but Alka has always seemed to maintain a careful detachment from almost everything except her close friends.
Across the room, Gemma Masterton jots lyrics for a song onto her personal datapad. She is inspired by Alka's movements and pieces together verses to practice later on in the choir room. Everything had settled back into an eerily normal routine. Dane has calmed down considerably after his almost tearful apology in front of everyone a few nights before. He accepted the fact that he was not dealing with the kidnapping well which led him to lash out at the people closest to him. While Gemma was suspicious of these cleverly constructed phrases, their parents ate it up. Celeste, in particular, was thrilled with his progress and the emotional maturity he was showing by admitting his fears.
Gemma, for her own part, has been maintaining her double life. The nightly meditations keep her mind strong and she hones her fighting skills in the school fitness center. She is careful to ensure she is alone where as not to dispel her image as a delicate albeit intelligent flower. Dahlia seems less inquisitive and more distracted which is a relief since Gemma had been instructed to draw her attention away from the Force sensitive Demaris Atrii. There are plenty of things going on at Valor Prep to keep her busy. A few off-the-cuff remarks from Trichelle Corinthos and Dahlia was back on the snark-train to a typical teenage girl who appeared to put more effort into her outfits than her personal relationships. Gemma has her own selfish ways but those had been put in perspective by Nevylinn's teachings. It is difficult for her not to reach out to the Jedi Master knowing that she is so close.
Her mind drifts to Riley and the dream she had. She wonders if the woman Valerie spoke of was Mara Tacofer or one of the clones made to look like her. Either way, she is uncomfortable with the knowledge he may be in danger despite his rather secure location. Corellia would be difficult to infiltrate even though she knows darn well the Empire had done it in an attempt on Kimber Patten's life shortly before the Centerpoint Battle. She finds herself writing his name in a heart and feels silly, glancing around as if anyone would care. Alka continues her dancing, blissfully unaware. Gemma knows she cares for Dane but it's not like she would ever admit it. Why should she? Dane is a jerk.
They are all experiencing new emotions as they enter the throes of adolescence. Gemma tries to keep her focus. She stands and gathers her things, waving as she leaves the studio and moves out into the corridor.
She sings a few lyrics of a song she had sung long before their lives had changed so dramatically as she walks slowly through the halls. It takes on new meaning in the present.
"We drift deeper into the sound. Life goes on…"
Alka twirls across the studio in perfect form, poised and determined.
"We drift deeper."
Dane talks excitedly as he walks beside Roman. Dane nods to Gemma as they pass. Roman smiles but his eyes move beyond her to Preston as he puts something away in his locker. Preston smiles back. Dane rambles on, oblivious.
"Drift deeper."
Further down the hall, Ples Aguilar stands with Trichelle, Kier, and Demaris. Dahlia eyes Trichelle slyly as she wanders by with Muriel and Tobias. The tension is superficial yet palpable. So many avenues to navigate, angles to consider, webs to untangle and facades to manage.
"We drift deeper into the sound. Life goes on. We drift deeper into the sound. Feeling strong. So bring it on."
Gemma clutches her messenger bag and pushes open the doors at the end of the hall.
"Bring it on."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
"The prophesy is about us, isn't it?"
"It's about you, your elder sisters, your father, the generations before you, the generations that will come after you."
"But I don't understand - the four come from DIFFERENT families, not the same family"
"So you were led to believe"
***********
300 years ago ...
Jedi Imri had been shaken by the dream, the words that had been haunting him, night after night now. He knew it came from the Force, but didn't quite understand. It frightened him, and excited him at the same time.
After night after night, he had almost committed it to memory, and had written the words down, studying them, trying to understand their meaning. He was staring at the words now, when there was a loud, insistent banging on the door.
Startled from his thoughts, Imri quickly put the words of the prophesy in his pocket and made his way to the door, opening it to find Darryl Winton standing there.
"What have you done to my wife?"
Imri shook his head
"I don't understand"
"You told me you had done an experimental procedure to help her become pregnant - and we were overjoyed, if not overwhelmed when you told us how successful it had been. But now she's having dreams. Over and over again. Horrible nightmares about what's to become of the children. So tell me now, WHAT did you do to her?"
The news that Persephone had been having the same dream, the same prophesy as him was a shock in itself, but also lent credence to his belief that it meant more than just random words. He would have to study it even closer now, but at the moment, he had to deal with the irate over protective husband.
"I can assure you, Darryl, that I did nothing to harm Persephone, or the children. Everything I did was completely safe"
"How dare you take me for a fool, Imri!" Darryl pressed his way into the room, "You did something, and I'm not leaving here until you tell me what it was. What is bound in the blood of my children, of my wife?"
Imri took a breath, frustrated at Darryl's insistence. Should he say something? Nothing apparently was not satisfactory.
"I told you there was a special procedure I was performing, giving the embryos a special enzyme. I told you that before"
"You clearly didn't tell us everything"
"Please, let me finish - the enzyme is designed to make the embryos stronger, and able to do things other cannot. If it works. If it doesn't work, its harmless."
"And if it does work? it's going to turn my children into what? monsters?"
Imri was starting to grow annoyed. Hadn't he given Darryl and his wife what they wanted? children? so what if there was an experiment - that was part of the deal.
"No, not monsters, just able to tap into greater potential"
"Potential? the dream is about them being scattered, about death, about horrible, horrible things. That's not potential, that's madness"
"Please, Darryl, just listen to me"
"No! No, I've had enough of listening to you. I think I know why you were trying to keep this a secret now. It wasn't for us, it was for you. And I'm not going to let you get away with this anymore."
Imri felt himself tensing up.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not keeping your secret any longer. I'm going to the jedi council, and I'm telling them what you've done"
Darryl turned and started to storm out.
"Wait!"
But he kept walking. Imri watched him start to step out, watched as his chances of finishing the experiment were walking out with him. And he reached out with his arm, grabbing Darryl Winton through the force by the scruff of his neck.
"Let go of me"
"No! Not until you agree to keep this quiet"
"Darryl struggled against Imri's hold, swinging his arms and his neck back and forth.
"Let go, Imri!"
Imri applied more pressure, holding on tighter.
"I cannot do that, Darryl"
Finally, there was a sickening snap sound and Darryl's held fell to the side, his struggle ceasing instantly, his body collapsing into Imri's hold. As Imri released his hold, Darryl slumped to the floor in front of him, a trickle of blood coming out of his mouth.
"No ..."
Imri fell to the ground, checking Winton for signs of life, but to no avail. Darryl Winton was dead.
And Imri knew that his life as a jedi was over.
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
The door chimes echo through the cavernous foyer on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Kylie Miranda finishes consulting with a service droid regarding the laundry schedule and moves toward the door. Leaving the last several com-calls from Vex unanswered, Kylie has thrown herself into her work. Her heart may tell her one thing but right now she is following her head. She is surprised to find the Jedi Nevylinn standing on the stone porch.
"Good afternoon, Miss Miranda."
"Well, it was."
"May I come in?"
Kylie moves aside as the Jedi passes, "I take it you are here to see Gemma."
"Why would you say that?"
"She's the only one home. Lord Gellar is still on Mondder. Lady Masterton had an emergency session with a client. Dahlia is seeing a movie with Muriel Monroe and Dane is at a team function with Roman Nash."
"I see. Is Gemma available?"
"That depends."
"On what?"
"On what you want with her."
Nevylinn regards her curiously, trying to get a read on the au pair's motives.
"I sense hostility from you, Miss Miranda."
"Do you?" Kylie counters, narrowing her eyes. "The Force must be working then."
"If you have something to say to me-"
"You think we wouldn't notice? The children came back different. Dane is much more aggressive and Dahlia, for all her charms, is incredibly secretive. But Gemma? She returned with a new set of skills, abilities she did not possess when she was taken. I saw her with the saber. I know what she is."
The Jedi does not mince words.
"Then you understand how important it is to be prepared for anything. The children were abducted from their home and I cannot imagine how terrifying that must have been. Therefore, precautions have been taken. Gemma is special."
"So was Melanie and she wound up dead."
"That is not what I want."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want her to be ready."
Kylie's lip trembles, "For what?"
"For whatever comes for them next."
Gemma appears at the top of the grand staircase and slowly descends.
"It's okay, Kylie. You don't have to worry."
"How can you say that? If anything else happened to you – any of you – I would be beside myself. Your parents nearly lost themselves when you were gone. I know why you would want to but Melanie gave herself to the Jedi in order to protect the others and failed. Almost everyone she knew and loved perished around her and that is not something I want for you."
"We can't escape who we are," Gemma says, reaching the landing. "The threats that came after The Four still exist. We have seen them. They have already succeeded once and we can't let that happen again."
Gemma reaches out and touches her arm.
"Please do not be afraid. This is what I want. I can keep us safe. All of us. Now we have to go, I need to train."
She nods, feeling a calm wash over her.
Nevylinn and Gemma walk back through the foyer and out the door. Kylie sighs, pulling herself together. Deep down she knows what Gemma's says is true. That is why she has not mentioned any of what she knows to anyone. A part of her resents the Jedi for exposing the young girl to dangers she would face just for being who she is. It is irrational and Kylie knows it. She cannot help but care. She has known the children since they were infants and they are family. She has clung tightly to the notion of their safety despite the fact that it had been shattered months ago when they were taken. Does their future security lie in Gemma's abilities? Perhaps she would succeed where Melanie failed. Kylie makes the command decision to trust in Gemma even if that includes the Jedi and goes on about her day.
Garron Prescott steps out of one the large archways, completely thrown.
"What. The. Fuck?"
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Viiperi Lake: Gellar Manor
The saber's clash against each other as Gemma and Nevylinn square off. Clearly, Gemma has been honing her skills as the maneuvers and attacks are much more precise now than they were on Naboo. The location of Viiperi Lake was chosen for several reasons but the primary being that it was mainly a summer retreat and therefore scarcely inhabited this time of year. Rutherford Gellar had granted Nevylinn access to their manor house after she concluded her business on Mondder.
She would emerge to serve the Republic interest but remain out of the spotlight for the most part. The Direx Board was far too busy to bother with her anyway, the initial shock of a Jed's presence long since having worn off. Novelty fades quickly in the Corporate Sector. Proper business channels in the Republic go through Janessa Kain and she seems to be handling things just fine. Coincidentally, Miss Kain is the first topic her young apprentice touches upon.
"How was the Sith able to control her?"
Nevylinn deflects another of Gemma's offensive moves.
"The Force can influence the weak-minded. That does not mean to say Janessa is dense or stupid but, at that particular point in time, she was vulnerable. She was intoxicated which made her open to suggestion."
"And the Counselor?"
The sabers screech as they touch and separate.
"Circe had suffered a great loss. She was the sole survivor of a team that never made it out of Centerpoint. Grief made her an easy target which is why we must be mindful of our emotions. We must always control them. They must never control us."
Gemma nods as they spin apart, deactivate their sabers and bow. The lesson is complete. Nevylinn is impressed with how refined Gemma's reflexes have become. Both her offensive and defensive posturing indicates a great deal of forethought and skill. The girl may be young but she is wise where it counts.
"Emotions are tricky."
"They can be."
"You said my father was manipulated through his."
Nevylinn nods.
"A calculated move on the part of the Sith. Taking you away from your parents put them in an unusually heightened state of emotional stress."
"Leaving them vulnerable."
"Fear is a natural response to such stimuli. It is not their fault they felt these things as they would not have had the inclination to be mindful of the Sith's exploitation. Your father was pulled into a despair I could not help him out of. He was lost at the thought of losing you."
"He loves us a lot," Gemma says with a cute smile. "He just doesn't let on in such an obvious way."
"Many people aren't so obvious with their intentions."
"Like Dahlia or Dane."
Nevylinn turns to her, "How so?"
"You heard what Kylie said. Dahlia is incredibly secretive and Dane has been insufferable since he returned."
"I thought you said he has changed his ways."
"After a conversation with Dahlia."
Nevylinn is curious as to where she believes this leads.
"Oh?"
"Dahlia is a lot of things but she's hardly convincing when it comes to caring about people other than herself. If she really was taught the ways of the Sith then she is either manipulating Dane or using him."
"For what?"
Gemma shrugs.
"I'm not sure but whatever it is, it has our parents fooled. They seem so happy and I don’t want to deny them that after all they have been through."
They walk through the dense foliage toward the shore of the lake.
"And what of your friend, Demaris?"
"Safe for now," Gemma says. "I threw Dahlia off her scent by dropping some hints about Trichelle's social plans for spring. It derailed her completely. I also asked for a friends help, someone who can keep an eye out."
"Who?"
"Ples Aguilar."
"The ExO's son?"
"Clever, right? I told him that Dahlia and Trichelle's scheming shouldn't involve someone as sweet as Demaris. His crush on her makes him think this is helpful so he said he would make sure to steer clear of their games."
"Now who is being manipulative?" Nevylinn teases.
"I didn't use the Force, I just asked. You said I couldn't tell anyone about what I can do so I improvised…"
She trails off, frowning.
"What is it?"
"Kylie knows what I am, what I can do."
"Does that bother you?"
"Not exactly. I know she will keep the secret so long as no one gets hurt. She has been around us our whole lives, closer than even our parents. She could tell there was something different about us when we got back. I hate lying but I completely get why we have to. I also get why Kylie is so worried. I am worried too."
"You are strong, Gemma. We will figure this out. Together."
They stop along the riverbank; a thin fog coils up over the surface of the water. The air is crisp but not cold and the buds on the trees indicate that in a few weeks, spring will arrive in full force.
"I have something to show you."
"What is it?"
"You told me you had seen your sister in your dreams. What if I told you there was a way to commune with her while you were awake?"
There is?"
Nevylinn nods.
"The soul and essence of a Force-sensitive that has passed on is, on some occasions, able to communicate with the living. They can manifest in many forms and in various realms. The Four are a unique exception. Only two, Karen Winton and Melanie Masterton, were Force-sensitive while Valerie Gellar and Kimber Patten were known as Touchstones. Gellar to Winton and Patten to Masterton. Collectively, the prophecy refers to them as the Royal Four of the Force. Even without the inherent connection or abilities, Valerie and Kimber are still able to manifest to their respective counterparts. They are, in some respects, spiritual guides. This explains how Riley is able to communicate with his mother and Dane told you he saw Valerie."
"Does that mean Dahlia can communicate with Karen?"
"Or Alexia. Or both. You are tied to them and them to you in a ways that transcend the physical realm. Your connection to the Force will facilitate these interactions."
Nevylinn leaves her and returns to the manor house. Gemma closes her eyes and draws deep on the Force, feeling it pulse through her. A breeze whips through the trees, rustling her blonde curls. Then she hears her voice, faint yet distinctive, like a gentle whisper.
"Gemma…"
"Sister."
"I will always be with you."
Gemma opens her eyes to see her form emerge from the fog over the lake, a white-blue glow outlining her every movement. She glides toward her with open arms. Gemma smiles.
"Melanie."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Darth D'Cera mader her way, as usual, to the hollowed out tree on the family estate. Only this time, upon her arrival, on of the Voss Ra servants was waiting there for her.
It bowed low as it hissed out.
"Lady D'Cera - Lord Erinbol sends his regards"
D'Cera had only met the darth briefly, during her time with Emperor Schrag, but Adubell had indicated he was an ally.
"Can I speak with him?"
"He left a message"
The Voss Ra pulled out a comm unit, and activated it, a small blue holo image of the old sith standing.
"Darth D'Cera - I hope you are doing well. The jedi are in a precarious position now, and I have the plan that will crush whatever support they still have in the Republic. I will be contacting our associates at D.W. Inc. to arrange for the necessary movement of goods. But Emperor Schrag would be most pleased to hear of this himself. Review the documents I've sent with this message."
The message ended abruptly and Dahlia glanced down at the comm, which now was scrolling information.
"i'll deal with this later. Leave me, servant"
"Yes, Lady D'Cera"
The Voss Ra disappeared into the night, and Dahlia was left with her holocron
***********
300 years ago ...
When Darryl Winton did not return home, Persephone grew worried, more so as the hours passed. He had told her he was going to confront the Jedi Imri, to find out what was going on.
No word. No answer on the comm. Nothing.
It was the next day when she received word - her husband was found dead near the jedi clinic, his neck had been snapped.
Persephone's response was a wide mix of emotions. Utter sadness. Fear. Shock. Hatred. She knew who caused this - the same jedi who had claimed to be helping her this whole time. She wanted to confront him herself, but knew, knew it would be too dangerous. She knew that she too was in danger - he could come at any time, maybe kill her, maybe something else, part of his experiment.
So she knew she had to find help.
Taking the fastest route possible, she went not to the jedi clinic, but the main jedi temple. By this point, she was quite cumbersome, with four babies growing inside her.
At the gate of the temple, she banged on the door, and screamed.
"Help! HELP!!!"
Before again breaking down in tears.
Two young jedi approached, helped Persephone stand, and walked her inside the temple.
Then she told her story. First to a low ranking jedi supervisor.
Then to one member of the council.
And then, D'Cera watched as Persephone stood in the middle of the circle at the top of the tower, surrounded by the Jedi Council, as they questioned her, and heard what she had to say.
"You say he helped you get pregnant?"
"Yes - Darryl and me - we were trying for so long. He told us he could help us. Imri said he could use a new technique to help us"
"Do you know what he did?"
"No - I'm not sure. But it worked. We know it worked. I am having not one child - I'm having four. But then ... then the nightmares started. Not so much visions as words. Every night, I sleep."
"Tell us"
And she repeated those words, the words she wanted to forget, that she heard every night. And the council grew more solemn.
"Darryl went to confront Imri, to find out what exactly he did. And now Darryl is dead. My husband is dead, and I don't know what to do. I don't have any family. I can't do this alone. I ... I just can't"
As if to punctuate her predicament, she grabbed her abdomen as two of the children began kicking.
The council members looked at her and at each other.
"Miss Winton - would you excuse us for a few minutes. We think we may be able to help you. Protect you"
Persephone stepped out, and Dahlia watched as the jedi council remained.
"Have a team of jedi go to the clinic and find Imri. He has gone too far, in too many ways."
"What of the Winton woman?"
"While Imri is at large, she is to stay here, under our protection."
"And when the children are born?"
Silence showed the answer was still uncertain.
************
Imri was uncertain what to do, standing over Darryl Winton's body.
"What have I done"
"What was necessary to be done, of course"
Imri turned to find the voice that spoke to him, but none was there.
"Who said that?"
"I am an admirer of yours, young jedi. But your time is short now. I can help you unlock the secrets you have been seeking, but you must come away, and I will teach you a path to abilities the closed minded council would not approve of. Darryl Winton was in the way, but the offspring of Persephone - they are still available."
"What are you"
A shadow appeared with just barely a face.
"I am sith. And if you follow me, you will be too. Beside you lies the body of a mortal, but also here lies the jedi Imri. Let him die here too, and come with me as the Darth Immortus, whose legacy shall change the course of the galaxy"
************
Imri was gone by the time the jedi arrived. Their thoughts now turned to the young woman in her last trimester, and to the four offspring she was to give birth to.
TBC
-
"I know we're dying
And there's no sign of a parachute
We scream in catherdrals
Why can't it be beautiful
Why does there
Gotta be a sacrifice?"
-Tori Amos "Iieee"
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Viiperi Lake: Gellar Manor
Gemma walks along the edge of the water, moving in and out of the tree line as Melanie keeps pace. Even incorporeal, she moves as she once did and appears in the same white robes she had seen before. Her long blonde curls have a silvery glow as the outline of her form hums in a blue haze.
"You have done well, sister. I am proud of all you have accomplished at such a young age. It took me quite a bit longer to embrace my own abilities."
"How come?"
"I suppose I was frightened. Karen and I had always been told we were special. No one ever elaborated on what that meant. We knew we were different, that we had…powers. She could move things with her mind and I could feel things, things others could not perceive…even from great distances."
Melanie smiles wistfully.
"Back then, we had to tread lightly. We grew up on Coruscant, in the epicenter of the Imperial machine. Palpatine feared people like us and he executed the order many years before that purged the galaxy of most Jedi. Those born and confirmed to be Force sensitive were either isolated or exterminated."
Gemma frowns, pausing by on an overturned trunk.
"Did the Emperor know about you?"
"Yes and the only reason we were allowed to survive is because Alexander Winton leveraged Alexia's potential in exchange for our safety. She was handed over to the Empire to be used as they saw fit or so they thought. Palpatine was distracted and Alexander had his own agenda and all the while, my friends and I spun through the glitter and lights of Galactic City believing we were happy and safe. We could not have been more wrong."
"I don't want that."
Melanie turns.
"The lie is always more attractive. Even with the prophecy weighing on me, I still had the spotlight, the celebrity. You will be tempted with it as well – all four of you in different ways. The trick is to see through the façade without losing yourself in it."
"I thought you said the prophecy was also a lie."
"It's origin and references were not but the way Alexander used it against everyone certainly was. There are some who would use the truth against others to gain an unfair advantage not that it did him a lot of good in the end."
"It cost him his life?"
"Twice."
Gemma makes a face, "I don't understand."
"It's complicated but he met his final end on the Centerpoint Station like the rest of us."
"In the explosion?"
"Implosion, actually but no. We were already dead."
"How?"
Melanie hesitates, gazing at her sister's inquisitive stare.
"Are you certain you want to know? The details are unsavory."
"Tell me."
"Dementat stopped Alexander…right after he killed me…right after I killed Karen."
Gemma's mouth opens, allowing a gasp to escape.
"You killed her?"
"Yes."
"And he killed you?"
She nods, "Took my head clean off. I slew his lover and he was angry regardless of the agonizing road it took to come to that decision. I thought I was so smart. I thought I could save them all if I just rid the galaxy of Karen and Dementat. While the Empire itself certainly suffered greatly with their collective demise, it has not eliminated the threat entirely."
"Who killed Kimber?"
"No one did," Melanie says, glancing away. "She died during childbirth as the woman known to you as Mara Tacofer helped bring Riley into this world."
"Why didn't she save her?"
"There was no time. Mara had to get off the station with Riley or risk losing him as well. She had already lost Valerie and Karen. She lost Kimber before she even got to know her. Riley was her salvation just as Mara was Karen's."
"What?"
"Mara helped Karen see the lies of her father. I can say this now, in the clarity of death, but I was not aware that Karen had faced down her own demons and won. I believed she was still a threat; that she would stop at nothing to kill Kimber and her child in order for her and Dementat to rule. Those were the lies I believed. That is why we are connected to the four of you. We can help you succeed where we failed."
"You mean…with Dahlia, Dane and Riley?"
"You are destined for different paths that remain connected. Dane will follow in his father's footsteps and Riley in his grandfather's. There is danger in that kind of greatness as only the pure of heart will keep their soul."
"And Dahlia?"
Melanie's face becomes somber.
"Dahlia has been corrupted but will grow conflicted. She is more like Karen than she cares to admit but there are elements of Alexia's madness within her as well. Karen wanted power and fame but not if it cost her everyone she loved. She never wanted that kind of sacrifice. Alexia would have murdered anyone who stood in her path due mostly to her father's manipulations. He promised her everything and reveled in taking that away from her as it only served to drive her over the edge. Alexander Winton was willing to risk everything and everyone in order to get what he wanted and in the end that meant letting them all go. No one was able to live up to his expectations of perfection."
"But he didn't know about Dahlia…"
"Your parents believed that but someone did and that someone lied in wait for many years. There is no other explanation as to why you were targeted so specifically, why you, Dane and Riley were meant to be rescued and Dahlia left behind. Someone knew exactly who she was and how she could be turned against the Gellar's, Masterton's and Patten's."
"Turned?"
"Our pasts are colorful and carefully interconnected. We are all guilty of something that could be used to distort the truth."
"How will I know the difference?"
Melanie hovers out over the water, mist following behind and curling upwards around her.
"Learning from the past will save you in the future."
Then she is gone.
Gemma's heart is pounding in her chest. There is so much to ask and know but not enough time. She had yet to touch on her dreams or the monsters but is left with much to consider. She turns back and heads toward the manor house with the intention of arming herself with knowledge. History has a way of repeating itself only because people tend to forget it. She would not make that mistake. Gemma already knows more than her parents think she does. She could use that knowledge to shield herself from Dahlia and protect Dane and Riley, even if it's from themselves.
-TBC
-
"I'm always swimming
Against the flow of the tide
Kissing the life into something
That's already died.
I've been drowning forever
I'll let go, I'll dive
Into the river and flow."
-Transister "Flow"
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Concordia Township
Muriel Monroe stares at the shimmering waters of the pool behind the Monroe estate. She is curled into a chaise lounge, tilted against the perfect row of other chairs that line the smooth beige duracrete deck. She cradles a mixed berry wine cooler that someone should have taken from her by now. She never should have had it in the first place, never should have been able to retrieve it from the fridge without so much as a raised eye brow. Then again, it's difficult to get a response from machines. She tries to remember when she last spoke to her mother who was on location for her new film. It could have been weeks ago, maybe even months. No one can ever really be sure. Muriel is essentially being raised by a fleet of droids. Her mother hadn't even had the good sense or forethought to hire an actual sentient being to watch over her only daughter.
Some would find this arrangement particularly exciting but Muriel is left with an emotional void. Sure, she is popular and beautiful but those things do not make up for a fundamental lack of parental oversight and attention. Some people's parents hardly ever let them out of their sight much less abandon them for months on end. If only. Maybe it would be easier if she wasn't around when her mother came back. If she no longer existed, would it even make a difference?
The pills Tobias gives her help dull the roar inside her own head just enough to make it through a day at a time. It is more difficult when she is alone, after she gets home to find metallic faces that lack any of the concern or alarm as they inquire about where she has been. She wanders the giant empty house like a ghost.
So she swallows a few more pills.
Muriel sits upright, knocking over the bottle as she stands and sluggishly moves toward the steps and into the pool. She finishes off the rest of the drink and clumsily tosses the bottle aside. It shatters as it hits the deck but she doesn't flinch. She just wades deeper into the warm, clear water until she is completely submerged.
Dahlia Winton presses on the intercom again without an answer. Where the hell is the help? LeVanya Monroe should really look into actual staff. She taps in the door code she's had for years and enters the foyer. The instant she is inside, she feels something very wrong. She had felt it earlier as if someone was crying out without a voice. Knowing she hadn't spent as much time with Muriel as she probably should be since she returned, she snuck out with the help of her Voss-Ra servant and jacked one of the Gellar speeders to visit. Muriel never goes to bed early and Dahlia could use a little girl time. She moves deeper into the house, finding one then two deactivated protocol droids slumped against the walls. This causes an immediate panic as she knows Muriel has been acting strangely lately. Dating a known drug-dealer, taking pills and drinking were not part of their modus operandi before the kidnapping. People change, sure, but she's pretty sure she can spot a downward spiral when she sees one.
Dahlia finds several more deactivated droids in the kitchen and living room. It is almost as if they had been switched off and posed. The whole thing is creepy but Dahlia weaves through the house in a quickening pace.
"Muriel?"
Her voice echoes in the house. She shivers then catches sight of a blue light coming through Muriel's open bedroom door. The bed is made up and undisturbed, the light coming from the pool beyond the sliding door. She pulls it open and steps out into the cool early spring night. Her eyes are immediately drawn to the overturned chair, something small, round and white scattered around and a wet spot on the deck with broken glass. She follows that to the pool where a body is floating face down in the water.
She leaps in without thinking, grabbing her friend's limp body and dragging it toward the steps. She pulls her head above the water's surface and pushes the thick blonde hair away from her face. Dahlia is sobbing as she hauls Muriel up onto the deck and lays her on her side, pressing her wet fingers against her throat to check for a pulse. She rolls her onto her back and looks around wildly for something that would help. She considers calling Doctor Daaé but that would only lead to more questions. There are pills everywhere and an orange bottle near the overturned chaise lounge. Dahlia wipes her face and kneels over Muriel, pulling open her mouth to start CPR which all Valor Prep students are required to certify as soon as they enter high school. She begins chest compressions but it's sloppy and she's not sure if she's pressing hard enough. She alternates between the compressions and blowing, sobbing harder at the helplessness of it all, but then Muriel coughs and a geyser of water spews from her mouth. Dahlia turns her onto her side, falling back against the deck.
For a moment, she sobers and watches Muriel lie there. There are myriad of thoughts that now cross her mind, some darker than others. She has obviously taken a lot of pills and even though she has been revived from nearly drowning she may still die from an overdose.
Adubell's lessons now appear boldly in her mind, her gravelly voice full of malice speaking of how friends are useless. They are liabilities. If she lets Muriel die, she will be free of that burden. She will no longer have to worry about their friendship or her feelings and insecurities. Muriel would be the victim, a senseless tragedy, and Dahlia would be the hero who got there too late. She tried to save her but couldn't and people would respect her for that. It would solidify her image, endear her to them all. All she has to do is let her best friend slip away, Muriel wet and fading on the expensive deck of her neglectful mother's home.
Dahlia swallows hard, convictions wavering.
Be strong. Be a Sith. Let them all go. You don't need them. They stand in the way of greatness. You are the rage, the deception and the darkness.
You need no one.
Her lip quivers as the tears burn her eyes.
Do nothing.
She sobs, crying out loud.
Let her die.
Dahlia shakes her head, grabbing Muriel's arms and pulling her off the deck and onto the surrounding grass. Keeping her on her side, Dahlia pushes open her mouth again and shoves her fingers toward the back of her throat. Muriel jerks and struggles in her arms but Dahlia keeps them firmly in place until she heaves. Muriel vomits explosively into the grass, coughing and shaking. Dahlia sighs, holding her close and holding back her hair. They lie there together, soaking wet and shivering as Muriel continues to vomit. Once it has subsided, she turns, eyes opening to stare up at her.
"D..D..Dahlia?"
"It's me, Mur. I'm here. You're okay."
"Am I…?" she croaks.
She rocks her back and forth.
"Everything is going to be okay."
Later, as Muriel rests in her bed, Dahlia begins to cry. She wanders into the living room and sinks to the floor. There is a snicker from above. She inhales and glances up. Alexia's face is staring down from within the massive mirror mounted above the mantle.
"Weak."
"Don't even start with me."
"Karen had friends too, you know. She let people in. She trusted them."
"Shut up."
"Look how far that got her."
"Look how far your obsession got you," Dahlia counters venomously.
Alexia's face darkens.
"Do not confuse nobility with gullibility. They are all expendable. Opening your heart to them will only risk your own life. Faith in friends is a weakness you cannot afford. Not now. Not ever. Cut yourself off, dear Dahlia, or you will follow them straight into the grave."
Dahlia stands, grabbing a small sculpture from the coffee table and hurls it at the mirror. It shatters loudly, glass pouring down and bouncing off the mantle until there are shards and specks all over the rug. She backs away; distraught and shaken then shrugs it off and goes to check on Muriel.
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
"You have been gone too long, young sith"
The image of her guide from the holocron looked on at her reproachfully. Dahlia, was not so easily cowed.
"I had other matters to attend to"
"your friend"
Dahlia's eyes narrowed. She didn't know how the holocron knew, but right now, she wasn't interested in his contemptive tone.
"I am my own master. I don't care what you think. Muriel is worth saving"
"your problem, D'Cera, is not that you do not care - it is that you care too much. Have you already forgotten the lessons you've learned, that have been forged within you? A sith does not have friends. She has servants. She has allies. and she has enemies. Is Muriel one of those? Is she an ally? a servant? No. Clearly not. You CARE about her. You SAVE her. But what you do not realize is that saving her. By having compassion - it will be your undoing. This is a fact. Before your destiny is complete, Muriel will die. Muriel MUST die. There will be a time when you must choose yourself over. When you must choose Darth D'Cera, Daughter of Darkness over Muriel, or choose Muriel over Dahlia, the weak."
"That is not how it will be. I don't have to let her die"
"Then you are wasting your time. And ours. The sith have waited for one to bring about its destiny. If it isn't you, we will proceed without you"
"You have nothing without me"
Dahlia turned and began walking away from the sith.
"You still don't know, do you ... come, young fool. Come see the origin"
Dahlia debated storming out, but then she heard the screaming behind her, and she turned, watching the scene unfold before her, as if on a viewscreen.
Persephone Winton, surrounded by doctors, prone with her legs spread, several jedi standing in the background. One by one, she gave birth.
The first child, a boy.
"Darryl - his name is Darryl Winton, like his father"
The second, a girl.
"Melanie - named after my grandmother"
The third, a girl.
"Valerie - named after my great-aunt"
The fourth, a girl.
"Kimber - named after Darryl's grandmother"
The four children were cleaned and wrapped, and escorted to a small room nearby, Persephone offering a weak smile.
"I did it"
The jedi Rand approached, smiling back at her.
"Yes you did"
Dahlia watched the scene unfold, shaking her head.
"the three girls are named Melanie, Valerie, and Kimber?"
"yes"
"but they are Winton's."
"conventions at the time show that women would take on their husband's last name, as is still the case today"
"So Melanie Winton married a Masterton, Valerie a Gellar, and Kimber a Patten?"
"precisely"
"And Darryl Winton?"
"Darryl Winton, as you will see, was quite the cleverest of the four children, and passed on the cleverness to his children. If you watch, you will see how the four were divided - and how, whenever brought back together, they have reshaped the galaxy. How you can reshape the galaxy too. But of course, for that, you will need to learn how to let go of your caring. Friendship is a weakness, D'Cera. When you learn that, embrace that, you will be unstoppable."
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Dhalia made her way to the hiding place, and again summoned the sith from the holocron
"Quite a superficial career you have chosen for yourself"
"society is superficial. Become an icon that everyone loves, and you can control that society. The position will give me contacts around the galaxy, and give me the opportunity to influence not only social drama, but politics as well. Chandaar will accept me as the celebrity turned activist, turned focal point of their existence"
"if it works. Otherwise, you are just a washed up celebrity with nothing"
"That won't happen. i know how to work with what I have. And I'm not here for your lecture. I want more of the tale."
"Testy testy. Already behaving like a model ..."
Dahlia was annoyed at the holocron's judgmental behavior. But he, and the holocron, were a means to the end, and so she would endure it. She knew the potential of her career, the paths it would open.
But for now, she turned her attention to the image now starting to surround her.
300 years ago ...
Persephone was walking along the southern side of the jedi temple, toward the small apartment that had been given to her, to help her raise and protect her four infants. They were only about a month old, and Persephone was still weak from the pregnancy. The jedi and her were undecided how to proceed, what to do to protect the four from the machinations of the renegade jedi Imri. She herself was uncertain, having almost no family to speak of, and now no husband to help raise the children.
It was as she was walking, she heard a voice.
"Persephone"
She turned and saw Imri, her eyes going wide with fear.
"Stay away from me"
Imri took a few steps forward, shaking his head.
"It's alright. I just wanted to know how the children are"
"They are fine .. get away from me"
He took another step forward
"Can I see them?"
"No - stop where you are - get away from me!"
Persephone took a step backwards, and watched as Imri also drew closer. Then she noticed his eyes, not a normal hue, almost orange in tint.
"I just need to see them. It will be ok"
"No. Stop!! HELP!!!"
She turned and began running, but a moment later, felt a hand clasp around her, whizzing her around that she was face to face with Imri, who's face now showed his malice and anger.
"Where are the children, Persephone? Tell me where they are!"
He lifted her in the air, holding her by the neck.
"You'll never get the children. I'll never tell you. The jedi will protect them"
"let her go, Imri"
Imri turned his head and offered a contemptuous snarl as Rand approached.
"Little worm, always interfering with me"
Rand raised his lightsaber, already ignited
"Let her go"
Imri grinned "ok"
With a push of his hand, He flung Persephone up, watching her sail across the pavement until she slammed into the stone base of one of the many statues.
"What happened to you Imri"
"I am not Imri any longer, Rand. I am someone stronger, wiser, more powerful. I am Darth Immortus"
Immortus raised his hand to Rand, fingers curling as lightning escaped his fingers. Rand blocked the first few, but several went through, and he went sailing backward in pain.
Immortus motioned his hand toward another of the statues, and with a wave of his wrist, it went careening off its base, falling over Rand as he was trying to stand. The newly forged sith moved toward Rand, who was trying to maneuver his saber to cut the statue away.
"You always were weak. never should have been a jedi"
And Immortus ignited his own saber and sliced it through Rand's face. Then he turned to where Persephone lay, whimpering. That's when shouts were heard. He turned and looked as several jedi were approaching, and with a snarl, he ran, disappearing into Coruscant's busy streets.
As the jedi approached, they found Rand dead, and Persephone bleeding profusely from the head, neck and shoulders.
******
"Persephone is dead"
The ill news came to the jedi council only hours later, and they all sat in silence of grief for a moment.
"Any sign of Imri?"
"No trace of him"
"very well. We shall give the girl a proper burial. And then we must decide how to deal with the children."
TBC
-
"When you are in it for yourself, you always end up on the winning team."
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface
The dawn of summer in the Concordia Township is a time of transition.
The boys left for Etti IV a few days ago to begin or continue their corporate internships which leaves the girls to their own devices. Before a lady can be debuted to the Sector Society, she must undergo a training of her own. Most of these skills are learned throughout childhood but they are honed in adolescence. Beauty, cunning, charm, poise, and reputation are all passed down through the elite families. Some, like the Atrii's, Gellar's, Aguilar's and Corinthos', have produced the finest matches within the Sector which in turn furthers their lineage and secures their legacy.
Dahlia Winton thinks this is ridiculous as she has enough legacy to last several lifetimes but plays the part well. The other mother's are quite wary of her presence and regard her with extreme caution. She can read their thoughts plainly enough to know no one really trusts her and believe she is dangerous. This, like most things, can be exploited to her advantage.
She had received word from her Voss-Ra servant that the Patten sample had been obtained. It was Dahlia who had alerted the Elders to Riley's locations after Dane had casually supplied the information about his true identity. He, Riley and Gemma had been imprisoned together although they escaped the more grueling aspects of their incarceration reserved for her. In their time together, Riley confided in Gemma and Dane, revealing him to be the last descendant of The Four. Gemma had dreamt of Riley her entire life and called him the forth but up until a year ago, no one really knew what that meant. Dahlia wonders what Gemma would do when the lid is blown off Riley's cover.
All those lies will make fantastic headlines.
Outside her lessons with the Sith holocron, Dahlia has done plenty of her own homework. She knows that despite her pedigree, Kimber Patten's reputation within the Corellian Sector had been marred by her brief stint as a diplomat for the Empire. It was during that time she met the ISB agent and father of her child, Mod Navris. From what she can gleam, Navris was a soft-touch who fell for Kimber's plight and may have saved her in the short term but not himself. These facts were corroborated by the Jedi Masterton herself after she rescued Carlson on Tatooine.
There are also the alarming facts about her mother. Lilandra Patten had been committed to Coronet General shortly after PHAHE's first siege of Corellia where she remained until she died under mysterious circumstances. The chapter of Kent Carlson's story regarding the Patten's, specifically Lilandra, seemed to indicate he believed she was murdered in an attempt to silence her. He alludes further that it had something to do with the Winton's but since he was the last person to see her alive, he isn't exactly what some would call a reliable narrator. Quite a few of his assertions could not be verified as the parties involved all perished by the time the story was released by Counselor Circe Prescott.
Ah, the good Counselor - Dahlia's champion in the face of public scrutiny. She would make sure to return the favor one day.
Dahlia also digs for dirt on Melanie as leverage over Gemma but finds nothing but glowing reports of her good-nature and kind spirit. It's enough to make her want to puke. No one is that good. Unfortunately, after the Empire accused Melanie of treason by supplying information to a separatist group, she escaped and disappeared for several years. No trial, no conviction. All they had were allegations in the wake of Coruscant's destruction which made the Empire look paranoid and desperate and turned Melanie into the victim. No records exist of her during the time she fled Hesperidium and when she appeared again on Corellia months before the Battle of Centerpoint Station.
Whatever.
Surely there is gossip out there which she can and will find once she busts into the fashion world on Chandaar. With the contract signed, Dahlia is slated to travel to the Republic capital for some preliminary shoots. VMG wants her image to premiere in the fall which should make that term interesting at school. However her thoughts are disturbed by their origins and the fact that The Four are all distantly related. It explains some of her inquiries but not all. Strange how everything had transpired over three generations until her father brought them all back together to spectacular results. What a fabulous mess they made.
With Celeste swamped with clients, Kylie busy coordinating morning tea's and dinner parties, and Gemma in the studio, Dahlia is free to roam through the vapid world they live in. She spends her nights deep in the woods, practicing her dark arts and keeping her mind sharp. There is no law that says you can't be pretty and deadly.
Then there is her social life.
Muriel is doing much better now that she has attentive friends around and there is word her mother may even return to the Sector after principle photage is finished filming. That should be a lovely reunion, Dahlia thinks grimly. Demaris seems happy to help and has struck a fast friendship with Muriel. Anything to keep her out of the despair that nearly claimed her life. Trichelle takes the parties very seriously and pays close attention to the instruction of the mother's who host them. She is determined to be the belle of the ball when the time comes. Dahlia finds it deeply disturbing that all someone could hope to be is someone's trophy wife. Thankfully, she doesn't have to worry about it too much. She doubts any of the parents in the Sector would approve of their son courting a Winton, princess or not.
Why settle for the status quo when you could have everything?
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Dhalia's social life, even as the summer was getting underway, didn't leave her much time to herself. In fact, with the added preparation for her upcoming contracts, and the travel to go along with it, her days were busier than ever.
She found it necessary to tap into her less-public skill set to remain balanced. Sitting within the hollowed out tree, she let the dark side wash over her, feeling the fears, the hatred, the suspicion that permeated Corporate Sector society. There was so much of it here. So much utter distrust and selfishness. It was like a breath of fresh air. Achy muscles became relaxed, sleepy eyes healed, energy restored.
Here eyes flashed opened, still pools of darkness from invoking her power, and without moving, she summoned the holocron to her, activating it, and summoning her sith guide.
"Tell me the rest of the story"
Intriguing as the introduction was, it was time to finish the taleDarth D'Cera's voice was commanding, and the sith guide nodded his head.
"It is time"
with a flash of smoke, D'Cera found herself in the center of the jedi council chamber.
"Darth Immortus has tried kidnapping the children, not once, but five times now. Each time, he has been fought back, but by numbers alone. His use of the dark side appears strong enough to overcome most of our younger jedi - and guarding these children cannot be the priority of the masters."
"Then what are we to do? The prophesy- if the children fall into his hands, it speaks of disaster..."
It was Master Yoda who called the discussion to an end "So certain, are you? Rehear the prophesy, we must. In it, the answer lies. Only together are the children a danger, so separate them we must"
"To where?"
The image of the jedi council swished away, and in its stead, a different room in the jedi temple, with a hovering galaxy all around. Five jedi masters stood looking it over.
"There is a family on Thyferra interested in taking one of the girls. We will send Melanie there"
"Kimber can be sent to an adoptive family on Corellia"
"Valerie should be taken to the Corporate Sector. There is a family there looking for a girl they can use for leverage"
"Should we be subjecting an infant to that?"
"There is no reason to believe she will be cared for any less than the other children. The family that wants her is well to do, and have failed to have a child. This will improve the standing of them and her. And it will further separate the children, which is my bigger concern at the moment."
"What about Darryl junior?"
"He is going to be the key. A number of records have shown that Persephone Winton was pregnant and successfully gave birth. Despite our efforts, those records remain existent. Darryl will be sent to an orphanage on Coruscant. He will keep his name, but we will take steps to make sure he is safe there, and that no one finds out he's there. With luck, he'll disappear into the crowds, and then when he's an adult, he can worry about making a family of his own."
The other jedi nodded.
"Very well then. Coruscant, Corellia, Thyferra, and Etti IV. The children will be scattered. What of the prophesy?"
"The council wants the prophesy itself to be as remote as the children. We are therefore transferring all knowledge of this prophesy to a jedi prophet, and otherwise erasing it from the archives. No one should ever learn about the children, their descendants, and the risks associating with them"
"Where are we sending the prophet?"
"An outer-rim world, Naboo. Jedi Olindae will go there to try and mediate between the Naboo and the Gunguns that live there. Once there, she will stay there, indefinitely"
The image of the room began to fade again, D'Cera watching as it grayed out as if behind a thickening fog. But instead of disappearing entirely, she found herself alone now, among the constellations, five systems glowing brighter than the rest.
"Now you know the origins - On Thyferra, Melanie Winton married a doctor named Masterton. Their great great grandchildren included Henrick Masterton, and Celeste Masterton - cousins, without knowing it.
On Corellia, Kimber Winton married a corellian security officer named Patten, and their descendants included Kyrie Patten.
On Etti IV, Valerie Winton, at the age of 16 was noticed at a debutant ball - much like the one you are participating in soon - by a strapping Gellar, heir to a huge fortune and legacy. Their descendants included Rutherford Gellar.
Darryl Winton, sent to an orphanage on Coruscant, turned out to be the most charismatic of the four. He made many friends at that orphanage, individuals who helped him once he was an adult, and helped found the Winton fortune, which would come in to play generations later. He married for status, as did his children, and his children's children. By the time his descendant, Alexander Winton was born, the family was well renown, respected, and envied.
Another descendant, though unknown to most, was the Trade Federation Viceroy, Medivh Guldon. He was the first recorded combination of two of the four. His mother was a Winton daughter who ran away from home, his father a poor mechanic. Their match was destined to result in a disaster, a poor, homeless child. But Medivh had a drive unexpected, a power unrealized, and rose through the ranks quickly, finally taking control - and seeking his own destiny. The jedi should have known, should have seen the warning signs, but the jedi are foolish, blind.
Which is why it is the fifth of the exiles that is perhaps the most interesting. Jedi Knight Neade Olindae was poor as a fighter, but was known as a jedi consular, serving as an archivist in the jedi temple - and as a seer. The jedi council placed a heavy burden on her with this prophesy. By funneling it into her thoughts, the words of this prophesy haunted Jedi Olindae for years. Even on Naboo, away from the temple on Coruscant, she still could see it. And so after completing her mediation tasks, she was left feeling isolated, abandoned by the jedi order. She became angry, and did everything she could to forget the prophesy. But the more she tried, the more it would dominate her thoughts. Olindae would black out for hours at a time, and find that she had formed words of the prophesy - not always in the same order - and carved them into stone or wood, or steel, in hyroglyphs, and other languages. The only place she found solace, was by breaking her sacred vows, in the arms of a Nubian aristrocrat, Lord Allec Greyson. Together, they had one child, extremely strong in the force, but Olindae spent her entire life suppressing the child's abilities. The prophesy, and all the words of nonsense associated with it, were locked away in the Greyson line, until generations later, A Greyson wed into the family Winton, triggering those old words again."
The stars around her faded into blackness, and the dim light of the hollow tree returned.
"Now Darth D'Cera, you understand - the family had been dispersed, into four corners of the galaxy. When brought together, they ignite power. You are the product of one of the four, and the prophesy keeper. You and your sisters before you. The Greyson line was small, and there are no children left of them. The prophesies of Persephone are therefore now only available to you. The ultimate reach of the power of the four - is only there for you."
D'Cera nodded her head, smiling at the thought that she really did have a leg up on Gemma and the others.
"But how do you know all this?"
"Lady D'Cera, is it not clear? I am Darth Immortus - I am the jedi Imri who created the legacy gene. I spent my life seeking out the children. I found the prophesy keeper on Naboo, and in her weakened state, was able to convince her to seek out the comfort of Lord Greyson, guaranteeing the prophesy would not die. And now I have succeeded. All you need to do is combine the genes together, and make yourself immortal, a goddess among the insects that fill this galaxy."
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Concordia Township
The associations are enough to induce marvel and awe, connections so inextricably woven through time that the sheer scope and magnitude humbles her. Everything that has happened had done so because of them – the four families. Separated, they were oblivious with ridiculous notions they were masters of their own fates. Together, they were a neutron bomb that poisoned everyone they ever met. Dahlia needs some time to process what she has learned. Her mind is spiraling with the implications and potential. Immortus had shown her something no one else had known...no one except perhaps her father. Even as an aristocrat on Bakura, heir to the RepulsorCorp fortune, how could he have known what would happen when he met Queen Monica Greyson of Naboo? How could he know she was the key to unlocking the very secrets of his own lineage and legacy?
To the Holy Vessel a vision is sent.
Her mother, a Greyson descendant of the Jedi Olindae, revealed the words of the prophecy Persephonea due to her proximity to a Winton. His cunning use of this knowledge sharply steered the course of history in another direction entirely. Alexander capitalized on his friendship with the Masterton's then sought out Patten then Gellar (themselves in an equally fateful junction) to introduce The Four into a singular controlled environment. Dahlia has flashes of the past, a seemingly innocuous introduction the day the first Death Star exploded in the Yavin system.
Stratford stands with Winton and Masterton in a courtyard of a very exclusive private school. He calls out, operating under the instructions of his benefactor, and Maxwell, Gellar and Patten approach. They converge in a circle. It is his task to provide a spark that, unknown to him, will grow into a blaze so large it will consume them all.
"Do you guys know each other?"
"No," Gellar says coolly.
He motions toward them, "Ladies, this is Lucas Maxwell, Valerie Gellar and Kimber Patten."
They mumble a greeting.
"This is Karen Winton and Melanie Masterton."
Their eyes meet for the first time.
They had no idea.
They had no idea how deep the hole went. They would never know, not even after it was too late to turn back. To undo all the damage that had been done. The lives lost, bodies piling up, victim upon victim. All the screams of those who aided them become the chorus in a choir of collateral damage.
The flashes pulse and quicken.
Blair's decisions. Rutherford's cowardice. Abra's murder. Kyri's duplicity. Lilandra's insanity. Alexia's meltdown. Dementat's lust. The Queen's confliction. Melanie's misdirection. Henrick's doubt. Dahlia's birth. Celeste's escape. Medivh's vision. Karen's calling. Valerie's paranoia. Kimber's hope. PHAGE's obsession. Alexander's quest. Centerpoint's implosion. Riley's rescue. Dane & Gemma's existence. The Voss-Ra's abominations.
Four names, bound by blood, poured across symbols written on the walls deep within a cave on Korriban.
The Crimson Covenant.
-TBC
-
"I wear my sword at my side."
Leftfield "Swords"
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Concordia Township
Gemma Masterton returns to the Gellar Estate to find Kylie Miranda waiting with a growing list of social events to attend. She had missed several in the short time she was on the capital and her absence had not gone unnoticed. She sighs and heads upstairs, dreading the coming evening of forced smiling and empty conversation.
Kylie helps her get ready for the Corinthos dinner party. She chooses a lovely pale blue dress and silver necklace. Gemma stares at herself in the mirror as Kylie tousles her blonde hair.
"Must I?"
"Yes," Kylie says. "All society girls must put on a show if they are to be matched with a good family."
"My family is good enough already."
"Alliances are formed through these unions."
"Everything is a business deal."
Kylie begins a series of small braids that circle around the side of Gemma's head which is held in place by one of her mother's sparkling clasps.
"You know it is."
"I don't need a mate to be powerful," Gemma says, glancing up to meet Kylie's gaze. "My strength flows through the Force."
"I do not doubt you, Lady Gemma but it would behoove you to play the role for the time being. If secrecy is the goal, as your Master insists, then you must perform. You know I do not put much stock in these ridiculous matches but I do not come from such a prestigious lineage. The Masterton's were revered on Bakura and throughout the Outer Rim. Even here in the Sector, Lady Celeste commands the deepest respect and loyalty."
"Unlike some families."
Kylie smirks.
"You don't wear distain well, Lady Gemma. The noble houses of D'ian are as close to royalty as the Corporate Sector has and those families control almost the entire Direx Board along with the most prominent and profitable companies."
Gemma nods.
"The Atrii's, the Aguilar's, the Corinthos', the Nash's, the Dyre's, the Gellar's – they rule the worlds."
"These worlds, anyway."
Kylie finishes her hair and fastens the necklace.
"There we go. What do you think?"
Gemma finds the reflection somewhat disturbing yet she is vaugely aware of her beauty. The Masterton's have always been attractive - blonde, usually with a symmetrical oval face, fair skin, wide, blue eyes and a full mouth. Her mother always jested their ancestors looked more like pouting mythological figures than scholars and physicians.
"It will do."
Kylie laughs.
"Oh, you wait and see just how much power you can yield with that face in just a few years time. You won't need the Force to bend the wills of lesser men. Beautiful women have a magic about them and throughout galactic history men have fought and died to win their affections. Not all battles can be fought with mindfulness or by twirling a lightsaber. Sometimes cunning and wit can see you through the darkest of times and the greatest challenges."
She turns, "You sound like you are speaking from experience."
"Do I?"
"You are beautiful as well," Gemma says. "Have you not bent the wills of men?"
"Not all men can be swayed. At least, not the one I was most hoping for."
"The Imperial?"
Kylie brushes a finger along her face.
"We will not speak of the Imperial. Gather your things, Lady Gemma. The limo will be here shortly."
She dabs perfume on her neck and wrists before heading downstairs. Dahlia is waiting in the foyer wearing a black corset and flowing black and green layered gown. Her crimson hair is piled up with dark makeup surrounding her emerald eyes. She attempts a smile when she sees her.
"Gemma."
"Dahlia."
"That dress is rather quaint."
"Thank you," Gemma replies, folding her hands. "You look…terrifying."
"Excellent. That is exactly the look I was going for."
"Why?"
Dahlia sighs like it should be obvious.
"Because these people are tiresome and in desperate need of some shock value."
"That doesn't seem practical."
"Most of the best things aren't. Tradition is only the pretense for the profits everyone in the Sector is really after. They use each other to secure corporate contracts and extend their legacy through carefully controlled breeding."
Gemma makes a face.
"Don't play coy. This is the world we live in."
"You live in it too."
"For now."
The limo pulls up in front of the Estate and the girls are seen to it by Garron. A security detail is dispatched in speeders alongside them. Once on their way, Gemma turns to Dahlia.
"What did you mean by that?"
"It means I'm going to buy my way out of it. Wealth speaks louder than a surname or the dowry that accompanies it. Besides, do you really think any of these families are going to let their precious wasp of a son marry a Winton? Come now, Gem. Even you are not that naïve."
"I guess that means mother signed your modeling contract."
"She sure did," Dahlia beams. "And before you know it I'm going to be traveling the galaxy making tons of credits while being showered with clothing and attention. As far as perks go, those are pretty nice. Speaking of fame and fortune, how was recording with Sur-Maaj?"
"I think it went well…he was nice."
"They liked your vocals?"
Gemma blushes, glancing out the window at the trees that pass.
"If the single does well, the producers want to move forward on a solo project. They want to sign me."
"Now that's something," Dahlia says genuinely. "We were meant to be celebrities, not just married off to future Lord's and captains of industry."
"Perhaps."
The limo stops outside the Corinthos Estate.
"Confliction is overrated. You don't have to be the tortured soul Melanie was if you embrace what's right in front of you. Do yourself a favor and roll with it."
Dahlia steps out and Gemma follows. They are escorted into the foyer and through the cavernous mansion to the formal dining room where the other ladies are waiting. They are announced before joining them.
"Princess Dahlia and Lady Gemma."
Lady Corinthos smiles at Gemma and tries not to have a stroke when she sees how severe Dahlia looks. They are instructed to take their places. Gemma sits between Demaris and Alka and Dahlia between Trichelle and Muriel. The first course is served and the mother's presiding over the event reminds everyone how important these graces are for confidence. The debutante ball is brought up and discussed with heavy emphasis placed on the honor of the right partner. Many suitors may ask but a lady must decide which would most benefit her at her debut.
Pick your partner and play the game.
Trichelle leans toward Dahlia, "My mother doesn't want me to go with Kier."
"Why not?"
"He's just an athlete. She doesn't like his legacy."
"So? It's not like you are marrying the guy. You are just taking him to a party."
"Not just any party."
Dahlia smirks, "I'll remember you said that when you are a pregnant housewife."
"Fine then," Trichelle laughs softly. "Who are you planning to take?"
"I haven't decided yet. Maybe I'll go stag."
Trichelle's eyes bug out.
"You have to take someone. No one goes it alone."
Dahlia brings the glass to her lips with a practiced smile.
"First time for everything."
"So evil."
"You have no idea."
"You may meet someone between now and then. Don't write it off just yet."
"I wouldn't worry. Don't tell me you are going to spend the next few years obsessing over it."
"If I don't," Trichelle says. "My mother will. She's hellbent on finding the perfect match after Kaytt blew off the ball, got into law school then fled to the Republic."
"Siblings. This is the first time I've ever seen your mother."
"First time I've seen her in months. No wonder Muriel was so down. Our parents are terrible. I wish mine were more like yours, Dahlia."
"Do you?"
She nods.
"My parents just make appearances simply to disapprove or judge then fade back into their own lives. Yours take an active interest. At least they care."
Care to lie, deceive and cover their own asses.
"Yes," Dahlia says. "They certainly do."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Sometimes, when something of importance appears in your range of vision, you focus on that, and forget everything else that is going on around you.
That was how Dahlia felt, at the moment. The day had been spent with her friends, the mindless, idle chatter that came with teenaged girls in the heart of the summer, the holonet playing background noise in the background as they discussed fashion, boys, and everything in between.
Trichelle was saying something about a new line coming out, when Dahlia's ears picked up what was coming from the screen.
"A massive defeat for the New Republic after a failed attempt at attacking the imperial world of Bastion. The attack was being led by the jedi, and blame appears to quickly be falling on them for the defeat. On Chandaar, where anti-jedi, and anti-force-user sentiment has been growing for months now, there have been calls for legislation that would curtail the jedi's privileged status within the Republic"
Dahlia was staring at the screen now, when Trichelle's voice finally broke through.
"Dahlia!"
She blinked as she turned back to her friend.
"DId you hear what I was saying? I was saying wouldn't it be great if you could model the new line?"
She had helped orchestrate the defeat, she and her secret allies. The possible legislation in the New Republic was the exact thing she had been hoping for. And Trichelle gave her the perfect excuse to go to Chandaar, and make sure things happened the way she wanted. Getting approval from her 'mother' would be easy enough, and the agency reps loved her enough that they would jump at the chance to see her again so soon.
A smile crept onto Dahlia's face, her eyes glancing back up at the screen.
"Yes .. It absolutely would"
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Trichelle can be pretty brilliant when she doesn't think too hard.
The executive assistant patches Dahlia through to Escara Wu at the VMG Corporate Offices. Wu is thrilled she wanted to begin so quickly and said she would arrange for some fittings before coordinating with the designers. Not surprisingly, almost every major fashion house in the Republic wants Dahlia in their clothing. The Winton name moves product. The defunct Imperial fashion house Raga'Ana, swallowed in the destruction of Coruscant, has vintage gowns Karen modeled that can fetch up to a million credits.
Escara gives her landing coordinates for the secure residences their models use in the Republic capital. She would also like to introduce her around and says she will have another model her age, a girl named Quinn, be her point of contact. Dahlia thanks her for this opportunity and says she will see her soon.
The next step is convincing Celeste to let her go. It's more of a casual statement she delivers over dinner.
"I have to go to Chandaar tomorrow."
Celeste stops, "What, darling?"
Gemma frowns and puts her fork down.
"You know how it is," Dahlia says evenly. "I have to go in for fittings and stuff. Surely Melanie had to do the same things. Oh, right. You weren't there."
Celeste clears her throat.
"I thought they said they would send for you at the end of the summer."
"Change of plan."
"Won't you miss many social events?"
"Probably but its part of the contract. You wouldn't want me to go back on my word. That's poor form."
"Of course not….I just thought you had more time."
"I'm afraid not."
"Well, I think you should at least take a security detail."
"They have ample security," Dahlia sighs. "But I'm taking Georgie."
Georgie is what they call the Voss-Ra disciple posing as a Gellar security agent. Dahlia told him to choose a name and he chose Georgie. Dahlia thinks it stupid but sure, she guesses it's better than Tvo'rask or whatever his people call him.
"Georgie…" Celeste says, trying to place him in the myriad of beefcake.
"The hulking silent scary one."
"Right," she says. "Georgie."
"Yes, he will keep me safe."
"Safe from what?" Gemma finally says.
They both turn to her.
"From, like, whatever. Chandaar is locked down pretty tight these days. I'm sure everything will be fine. I'll be back in a few weeks tops."
"What about the debutant ball?"
"Mom, it's almost two years away from actually happening. You think it's going to take me that long to find a date? There are plenty of nice, dull boys to drag to that thing. And I already know how to walk in heels which is a step ahead of the other girls."
Celeste smiles, "It wouldn't kill you to take it a bit more seriously. This is an important part of your adolescent experience, a rite of passage. I am looking forward to seeing you introduced to society."
"You will."
"Alright then," Celeste demurs. "I'll need regular updates from you, darling. No excuses. I want you to be safe and act appropriately."
"Thanks. I will. Kylie is packing now. We leave in the morning."
Gemma gives her a cursory glance, unsettled by the abrupt nature of her departure. She supposes it's just as well. She could use the time to spend with Nevylinn who maintains a distance when Dahlia is around. The Jedi checks in with the Direx Board on Etti IV every two weeks to keep up appearances and Celeste likes having the Jedi nearby as a secondary line of defense. Just in case. Things are not looking so hot for the Jedi on Chandaar at the moment and Gemma can feel that Nevylinn suffers because of it. She would go to Viperii Lake at the end of the week to make sure she is okay.
The following morning, Dahlia showers and dresses before heading downstairs to say goodbye. Celeste is waiting in the foyer.
"I thought about what you said."
"What…did I say?"
"Keeping you safe. You know that's more important to me than anything. Especially after...after...well, you know."
"It's fine. I'll be fine."
"I know you said they have security and you are taking Geoff…"
"Georgie."
"Right but I would sleep so much better if I had someone there I knew which is why I am sending Garron with you."
Dahlia tries not to choke.
"That's really not necessary."
"I disagree," Celeste says, kissing her forehead. "Garron goes and that's final. Be well, my darling and have fun."
Dahlia grumbles as she walks out and around the mansion to her Naboo royal cruiser idling on the landing pad. Garron Prescott stands near the ramp with a slight smirk on his face.
"Morning, your Highness."
"Don't be like that. Don't mock the situation."
"Overruled by mommy," Garron says, shrugging. "Tough breaks, kiddo. Ready to go?"
"I guess."
"Save the sullen routine for the shoot. Your sentry has already loaded your bags so relax and let's move."
She heads up the ramp to find Georgie loading the suitcases into storage. He gives her a knowing stare and she rolls her eyes up. Garron brings the ramp up and heads to the main controls. Once everyone is properly fastened in, he eases the shuttle up and away from the Gellar Estate. They streak through the bright blue morning sky until they hit orbit. With the coordinates set, Garron pulls back on the controls and the silver and pink cruiser flares into hyperspace for the Republic.
-TBC
-
"We're all fucked up in some or other way.
Some of us collect but most of us pay."
-Junior Prom
Hyperspace
An orange and blue sky comes into focus. It is a hazy afternoon, after school, on the student landing pads reserved for seniors. A girl and boy walk hand in hand toward a brand new shuttle. It is small but very expensive. The girl leans in and kisses the boy before heading away. He lingers, hand outstretched, their fingers breaking away slowly. She looks back with her brown hair caught in the breeze. He smiles. She is a simple kind of beautiful, not in the smoldering or conventional way her friends are. Most would be jealous but she has her sights set on the future, beyond this place, with him.
She keys in the code that unlocks the shuttle and she offers one final glance back as the boy waves. He is young and in love and does not realize how fleeting these feelings really are. The ramp closes behind her as she moves through the vessel to the controls only to find a box wrapped in silver wrapping paper strung with black ribbon. There is a card with her name on it.
D'Arcy.
She grins, thinking it is from him, and pulls at the ribbon and tears back the silver paper. The box beneath is black with a lid. She withdraws it quickly; breathless with anticipation but what lies within the box is not what she expected. It is dark and mechanical with small, flashing lights. Confusion gives way to a grave realization that comes far too late. The shuttle explodes causing a small shockwave that sends the boy to the ground. That is when his wailing begins. He calls for her even though somewhere he knows she is gone. The flames dance high as alarms sound across the campus. Security personnel come running through the dark, acrid smoke.
The boy continues to scream.
The shot pulls back and Alexia Winton turns with her eyes pooled with an oily blackness and a knowing smirk. Her thumb covers a remote detonator.
"As Karen always says, if there's not a scene...make one."
*
Dahlia awakes with a start.
Where is she? Oh, right. On her way to the Republic for a bit of modeling and some subtle sabotage. Her dreams are vivid and terrifying. Some might say she is crazy. Dahlia wonders if the others are visited by the bitches of spirits past. She knows Dane saw Valerie. What a treat that must have been. She can't tell if these are warnings or symbols but they leave her feeling shaken to the core. The conflicting perspectives of Alexia, Karen and her father will do that.
Even in death, everyone has an agenda.
She rises from the posh sleeping cabin and pads around the ship. Georgie is quietly cleaning a cache of blasters she was unaware they had. The royal armory? Sure, okay. She imagines what Karen would pair with the weaponry as she rummages through the closets full of designer gowns and outfits. She is sure to make a splash on Chandaar when she arrives.
"Anything I can help you with?"
She whirls around to find Garron leaning against the doorway.
"You scared me."
"I lurk. Sorry. It's kind of my job."
"Is it?
"Mostly. You look dazed. Couldn't sleep?"
"Bad dream," Dahlia says evasively.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Not with you."
"Figured as much," Garron replies with a shrug. "I am curious as to why you are so resistant to me being here. As far as you are concerned, I've always been around."
"Lurking, yes I know. And I'm not resisting, I'm just super annoyed by you lately."
"Why is that?"
"You are essentially a spy for my parents."
"Except they aren't your parents, remember? You came to me the last time we were on Chandaar asking for information. You wanted to know who you really are and who they are to you. Do you remember what I told you?"
"You said it didn't matter."
"Well, now that you know for sure, does it?"
Dahlia closes the closet and falls back against it. It's not that she doesn't like Garron. In fact, she likes him a hell of a lot better than she likes Kylie. He's always been there, watching over them but it's different now. She is older and knows more. A lot more, actually. Garron seemingly stands in the way of her upward mobility with his earnest sense of nobility. She has become morally ambiguous which clashes with his sense of right and wrong. If anything happened to him it would be ultra suspicious which is why he must be worked around. Cheap pandering should do the trick.
"No," she says. "It doesn't. Biological or not, they are my parents and despite everyone's questionable pasts, they only want to see us safe and happy."
"I'm glad you see it that way. You better start getting ready. We'll be on Chandaar soon."
She nods and walks past him back to her room. He glances after her, face falling slack. He is no fool. Her attempts to placate him ring false to his ears. While Celeste did ask him to accompany Dahlia to Chandaar, it was actually Rutherford who issued a warning that she is to be watched carefully. He isn't the only one with suspicions. The last Winton royal may have a few tricks up her sleeve and Garron isn't about to let a debutante teenager pull one over on anyone.
He returns to the cabin and scrolls through the latest headlines to occupy his mind. The Republic losses against the Empire are alarming to the say the least but it looks like the Federation merger with the CEC has Corellia flush. The last headline grabs his attention with a sinking feeling awash in dread. Patten child discovered alive. His mind races and he absently reaches for his com to call Mara. It doesn't even ring, just disconnects. This is less than encouraging. His eyes are drawn to a singularly disturbing phrase.
The New Four.
"Fuck."
-TBC
-
Korriban
Adubell stared at her face in the mirror. Since being killed by Dahlia and returned to life by the machinations of demented geniuses before her - Medivh, Phage, Alexander - she had been a new version of herself. Whereas Alexander had been reborn in a body identical to his own, Adubell had adjusted the parameters of the new form, making her stronger, faster - but also, less human. Her skin was tinted gray, a sharp contrast to the bright hue her weak jedi sister had. It had taken time to get used to the new body and the enhancements she made. But a sith always carries on, cares little for discomfort and solitude, and she had adapted.
Then she grew smug. While working to hack into the infiltrator's memory and programming files, she let her loose, expecting, like in the past, she would overcome her. But her over-confidence got the best of her, and the battle turned. Mara had managed to use Adubell's own lightsaber to hit an active gas-pipe, and Adubell had been caught in the initial explosion.
Now, she was a more grotesque version of herself. She had not died - and by that, of course, it meant her new body had not been destroyed, sending her to yet another bio-genetic replacement. But the damage from the fire was obvious. Her skin bore burn marks, her face almost appeared melted, and whereas before there was a uniform grayness, there were now streaks of darker gray that ran down the sides of her face. She could have fixed it - killing this body to go into another in store. But as she stared at her appearance, she realized she was even more of the sith, full of power, devoid of useless emotion, able to create fear, more than ever before.
She had already been punished for her mistakes - the time in the Sith Spirit Room had been torturous, and even in this body, she had felt them, the ancients, pressing down on her.
That was when she felt the presence, someone watching, resembling the infiltrator. it was not impossible - if Adubell had the power of the Force, why not Mara? That was what the spirits meant by she was stronger - Mara would be able to fight back next time. Adubell was not concerned. she was more highly trained than the droid, more ferocious. And next time, she would not make the same mistakes that allowed the infiltrator to escape.
Adubell's lip curled into smile, the reflection in the mirror looking even more grotesque. In its own way, the melted face was more beautiful.
******************
Later ...
Adubell stood in front of the monitors, watching the protests.
Adubell's role thus far was passive - watch and wait. And possibly, frustrate the jedi along the way. She had been keeping close tabs of the degeneration of public support in the Republic for the jedi, the rallies for and against legislation penalizing them and their brethren. At the lead of the "pro-civil rights" group was none other than Circe Prescott, the very same woman she had used and manipulated to instigate the last years of success. Darth D'Cera had played her part perfectly, and Prescott was acquitted of conspiracy and fraud and other charges - simply because the court found she had been controlled by another - a 'dark jedi' as it were - when she committed those acts.
Circe herself had apparently met with the jedi often since her release, and had steeled herself against further influence by Adubell or other force users. But that didn't mean she wouldn't still be useful. In her own way.
Adubell moved away from the monitors to the long-range comm unit, tapping in a frequency, and waiting for the answer.
"RNN - Republic News Network, how can I direct your call?"
"I have a piece of information I'd like to share who can I send it to?"
Adubell was redirected to the 'tip' line, where she was again asked for information.
"Circe Prescott - it seems odd that she is so helpful to the force-using jedi after being acquitted on the grounds of being under the influence of a force user. Perhaps she is still under their influence"
Adubell's ability to influence an unknown individual across a comm-signal, great distances away was diminished, but she did let the Force enhance her words, giving them greater weight, as much as the listener would accept.
Then she added in the best part - a copy of surveillance video, showing Circe Prescott letting at least one jedi into her apartment late at night.
"thank you for diligently looking into this"
Before they could ask for her name, Adubell deactivated the comm, preparing and activating the next connection
"HNO - Holo News Organization, how can I direct your call"
Adubell smiled. By tomorrow, news of Circe harboring a jedi - and speculation that she was STILL under the influence of force users - would destroy her credibility, and likely end her career.
All in a days work.
TBC
-
Hyperspace
Open on a hazy afternoon over the former capital with a burnt orange glow across the Coruscant skyline. Close in on an apartment in Galactic City, sparsely furnished and somewhat messy. Two teenage boys sit across from each other with a coffee table between them. The table is piled in ale bottles, a mirror with neatly arranged white lines, a straw, razor blades, vials of liquid and powder, two vibroblades, several pipes, a blaster and a half-empty bottle of expensive liquor.
The furniture is all black and there are no pictures on the wall. The only qualifying piece of decoration is a small, black frame with Valerie Gellar's picture in it. She is turned, seemingly nude and staring over her shoulder.
The first boy is blonde with longer hair that is straight and parted in the middle. The second has dark hair that is freshly cut and expertly styled. Both are extremely athletic, well-built and muscular. The blonde uses the straw to inhale a rather wide line up his nose then sits back, sniffing loudly.
"You know who'd I really like to fuck?"
"Who?" says the dark haired boy while rubbing white residue against his gums.
"Kimber. I want to fuck Kimber Patten."
The other boy laughs.
"In your dreams, bro! You know she's all moist for Venko. Besides, you never even got close to fucking Melanie so what makes you think Kimber would put out?"
"Hey, I'm a nice guy. I'm…you know…nice…and shit. I'm good-looking, popular; my dad owns a considerable portion of Galactic City. I'm a total package. Why wouldn't she want to fuck me?"
"Probably because I fucked you, dude. Remember? To get back at Valerie's whore ass for sleeping with you?"
"Right, right. That. We're progressive."
"That's what Karen said," the dark haired boy replies, taking a swig from the bottle. "But something tells me she wasn't impressed."
"Man, Valerie totally tricked me. She's the sexual equivalent of a proton bomb. Slick and deadly. It was entrapment, I swear to the Maker!"
"You won't hear any objections from me, dude. She's wicked good in the sack."
"I know. Amazing. I came like four times."
"Just four? Must have been a slow night for her."
He laughs, going down for another line.
"You are sick, you know that, Reef? Completely sick."
"You have no idea."
"I have a pretty good idea and I know why you wanted to get fucked up today."
"Why's that?"
"You feel shitty about what happened to D'Arcy and Billy. It's cool though, I feel bad too. We all do."
"Man," Reef says. "Why'd you have to go and bring them up? I don't want to talk about that shit or the fact that everyone is freaking the hell out about Karen's deranged sister lurking around trying to off us or something."
"I dunno, man. Melanie seemed pretty sure."
"Lucas, come on. Why would Karen's sister want to kill us?"
Lucas shrugs, taking a hit off a pipe before handing it to Reef.
"Maybe…because she's fucking insane. Who else would put a bomb in D'Arcy's shuttle? Why would Billy blow his brains out? You heard them talking about it. Alexia was sent to some military school after she flipped a shit at NCH. Rumor has it she's the one who put a hole in the side of the Legacy tower two years ago."
Reef exhales, blowing out a huge plume of purple and gray smoke into the center of the room.
"That's completely ridiculous."
"Is it? I heard she has, like, powers and shit."
"What kind of powers?"
That is when Lucas reaches for the vibroblade and grabs Reef's hand.
"Hey, what are you doing?"
Lucas slashes across the hand, taking off four fingers. Reef doesn't scream, he just stares at the blood streaming down his arm. He grabs the other blade and begins to saw Lucas' hand off at the wrist. It takes ten minutes to get through the bone but once it is done, Lucas is laughing as he waves the stump around, splashing blood across the floor and against the walls. Lucas slashes Reef across the neck and chest. Reef slashes back, taking off most of Lucas' left ear and cutting deep into his shoulder. They continue cutting and stabbing into each other, laughing maniacally as blood continues to flow. They stand, wobbling around the table as the blades dance through the air to take chunks out of their flesh. The room is drenched in crimson but they do not stop, not even after their jugulars are slashed open and vital organ punctured. They keep slashing, keep stabbing until they collapse against each other and fall forward onto the table to shatter the mirror and bottles. They make gurgling noises as their arms flail, clutching the blades, bringing them down on each other until both are still. One is protruding out of Reef's right eye socket, vibrating in place. The other is lodged in what is left of Lucas' throat.
Everything is spatters of red.
Alexia Winton leans against the balcony railing outside, detaching herself from both their cloudy minds.
There is nothing quite like destroying pretty things.
*
Dahlia bolts upright in bed, gasping for air. It takes several minutes to collect herself and remember where she is – on her cruiser, heading back to the Corporate Sector. She slides out of bed and drinks from the glass of water on the bedside table. The dreams have gotten worse, more gruesome. She would dismiss them as simple nightmares except there is something familiar about them. She knows these things happened.
But how?
Then something clicks.
Dahlia knows Alexia murdered all of Karen's friends. It was widely reported until the second Death Star exploded. The story vanished from the headlines almost as quickly as it appeared. The galaxies attention was elsewhere, a form of clever distraction used to set the stage for Dementat's rise to the Imperial throne. The Holo called these murders something….what was it? The Event at 500 Republica. That's where her family had a residence. It is where the last murder took place. Could these be the kids who met those grisly fates?
She shutters, wondering why these images are being sent to her now, at this point in time. These are things that happened in the past. They have no relevance to the present.
Or do they?
-TBC
-
Three months ago
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Serinus
As Garron Prescott gallivants around the city on his personal quest, Darth D'Cera tests the limits of her considerable powers. She quietly enters the simple and innocent mind of Quinn Cavanaugh, instructing her to complete mundane tasks. Quinn makes a few prank calls then fetches a bottle of wine from downstairs. Afterwards, she has no recollection of the events and inquires about the bottle of wine sitting on the nightstand. Dahlia explains it away and Quinn accepts it.
The night before the Fashion Week shoots, Georgie brings Dahlia the explosive she requested. She infiltrates Quinn's mind and shows her the device. Quinn sways back and forth, deep in her control. What Dahlia was able to learn from the visions of the past was that Alexia capitalized on the weak minds of Karen's friends. She sees an opportunity to solve a problem and takes it.
"I've grown tired of Counselor Prescott's concern. The trauma of the trial should have sent her into early retirement but instead fortified her resolve. This resolve annoys me and must be stopped. She is a threat to our destabilization efforts. And you are going to help me."
"I will help," Quinn says softly.
Dahlia smiles, pushing further into her mind.
"Good. When I kiss you on both cheeks you will take this device and find Counselor Prescott. She will no doubt be at one of the protest rallies. You will use the device to kill her then you will return to the Menagerie as if nothing has happened. You will remember nothing. Do you understand?"
Quinn nods, "I understand."
Dahlia places the flat, circular bomb in a shoe box and slides it under Quinn's bed.
The following day, after the shoots, at the after party, the RSB agents storm in and apprehend Garron. He gives Georgie the order to take her back to the Corporate Sector. As she says goodbye to Quinn, she kisses her on each cheek before boarding her ship and departing.
Quinn is activated, guided by Dahlia's evil influence as the royal cruiser reaches the upper atmosphere. It is a mental connection she is able to maintain with Georgie at the controls and Garron in RSB custody. She kneels on the floor of the cruiser with her eyes closed, filling Quinn's mind with her commands. Quinn silently retrieving the bomb from the box under her bed and places it in her purse. She slips down the corridor and out through the main entrance. The security guards wave but she breezes by. They think nothing of this because she's just another self absorbed model, one of many housed within the Menagerie. In a hovertaxi, she stares straight ahead.
"Where to?" the driver asks.
"The rally."
"At Inverness Park? You've got to be crazy, girl. That's no place for you."
"Take me to the rally."
Inverness Park South is teaming with people and Quinn pays the driver and weaves her way through the crowds. People are chanting and shouting until Circe Prescott makes her appearance. The Counselor takes the stage and Quinn veers toward it. She reaches the front of the crowd and stops, unfastening her purse to withdraw the device within it. She sets the timer, glances up and hurls the bomb toward the stage before slipping away. It hits the stage and people begin to react as the Jedi to the right of the Counselor grasps what is happening mere seconds before it does.
Quinn is walking steadily down an ally when the bomb explodes, a deafening roar that sends a rush of wind past her. She does not break pace or look back. She returns to the Menagerie to find Escara Wu in her suite.
"Quinn," she scolds, making a face. "Where have you been?"
She glances around, blinking.
"I don't know."
*
Back in the Corporate Sector, Dahlia hears of the explosion and acts appropriately stunned. She is filled with a dark glee that her plan had worked. In the days that followed, she kept watch on the Holo but Quinn's name was never mentioned. The RSB was at a loss. Circe Prescott was dead - One loose end gone that managed to divide the people of the Republic even further. She could not contact the Emperor but fancied that he was watching the same reports with a sense of amazement. Darth D'Cera makes her modeling debut, spins the Speaker mind in circles, and manipulates a dumb blonde into committing an act of terrorism.
Time well spent.
*
The present
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Gellar Estate
Dahlia tries on multiple outfits, modeling each one before a mirror. So many parties, so few ensembles to cause a scene. She had rummaged through the wardrobe on the royal cruiser and decided most would make their comeback at a later time with a much larger audience. For now, she is contractually obligated to wear certain labels and sorts through the latest sent to her by VMG. She selects a formal D'jour gown and holds it up in front of her as the com bleeps on her desk. She swats at the controls, activating the line.
"Yes?"
"You will never guess what just happened."
"Hi, Quinn. What's up?"
"Kinsa took me to this new restaurant that is supposedly all the rage and the maître d' completely refused this guys reservation because his name was on the Force User list. It was wild."
"Now there's a scandal. What happened?"
"A heated argument that turned the entire place into a forum for equal rights. People actually came to blows."
"What did you do?"
"Oh, we took selfies with the melee in the background then left. Who could enjoy dinner in that ruckus?"
"Seriously," Dahlia says. "The nerve of some people."
"We can't go anywhere outside of Serinus without seeing some kind of brawl. The RSB have this place pretty locked down but that crazy group with the masks keeps finding ways to sneak out and misbehave. If one more structure fire ruins my evening I'm just going to scream."
"I swear, the upper class is always the ones inconvenienced. Keep me posted."
"Always. Bye!"
Dahlia clicks off and turns back to the mirror. The dress is perfect. So is the unwittingly sweet Quinn when it comes to having the inside scoop. It's nice to hear that the Republic careens dangerously close to the Imperial model. Soon you would not be able to tell the difference. Things may get so bad, the people may actually want the stability of the Empire but they still have a ways to go. The moral struggle makes for damn good Holo and leaves her ample time to perfect her role in the Sector. They don't suspect Quinn and they don't suspect her. She twirls across the room, relishing the feeling of power and control.
How marvelous it is to be the one pulling the strings instead of dangling from them.
-TBC
-
Korriban
Making the Republic unravel was proving easier than initially planned. In an entity as large and diverse as the Republic, seeds of doubt and suspicion of others lurked constantly beneath the surface. Revealing them, fanning them, letting them boil into reality - that was the key. And things now were definitely boiling.
Adubell smiled as she watched the holo, recording yet another protest, and RSB forces, now wearing far more intimidating riot gear, enter the clash. She had done well - and so had the young sith, Darth D'Cera. Her brief time on Chandaar had helped sow more seeds, increased tension, and suffering among key high profile players. The deaths of Circe Prescott and the jedi Atrii - as yet, untraceable to Winton - had been brilliantly orchestrated, and only served to enhance the troubles in the Republic's capital.
It was almost time to move in to the next phase of the plans. D'Cera would do her part, and Adubell would do hers.
Adubell was now on board the wheel - or what had once been the wheel. Where once there had been spokes and axles and tubes, with open space between, plating had been added, making the wheel into a sphere. A single gap in the plating remaining, revealing a large hollowed out space on the inside. And what would fill that space? Adubell smiled, watching dozens of transports shuffling back and forth between the planet surface and the Wheel. Each would enter the hollowed out space dump its cargo against the back, and then make the return trip.
And their cargo? What would appear to most to be a rather benign substance.
soil. dirt. sand. rock. The makings of every planet, whether they be covered in water or ice or forest. No one would suspect anything if they saw earth.
But this was earth from Korriban. And like the planet itself, it had for centuries been imbued with the dark side.
Adubell watched as ship after ship of earth filled the empty space of the wheel. It wouldn't fill it entirely - but it would be enough. When she was done, when the sith were done with the project, it would be enough. And the galaxy would know it forever.
Adubell moved away from where she was overseeing the project, hurrying now to the shuttle bay where a sith infilitrator was already powered to go. Work here was on schedule, and she had another task, another project to set into motion.
TBC
-
Ruuria
After the debacle at Bastion, the Jedi that had been commanding the respective imperial fleets had been unceremoniously removed from their posts. But those jedi, on advice from Master Agnant, had not returned to Chandaar. Instead, they stayed on the respective worlds, watching and waiting.
Ruuria was one of the worlds on the trade routes that had been assaulted by the Empire but far enough from the main thrust that the Republic fleet there was relatively small. Master Yin-Go and two younger jedi had been stationed there and for the past several months, had mingled with those on the planet. Waiting for word of things getting better.
Yin-Go made his way out of the turbolift and down the dimly lit hallway to the apartment. Limited funds were available, naturally, and so the three jedi shared the single-bedroom unit. He entered the security code and the door opened with a hiss.
Immediately, he sensed something was wrong. Normally, he felt the presence of the two younger jedi, but now, nothing. They were supposed to be here. Taking cautious steps in, his fingers trailed down to the lightsaber at the side of his belt, eyes glancing back and forth. He rounded a corner and gasped. There, lying on the floor, were the two young jedi, each cut down, the cauterized cuts of saber wounds riddling their bodies.
"They were easy - I hope you'll be more of a challenge"
Yin-Go's saber ignited blue as he whirled around to find himself faced to face with a grotesque image of a being.
"Whoever you are, you will pay"
The being smiled, her face now lit by a red saber.
"I still haven't paid for killing Master Corrin. You'll just be adding change to the debt."
Red saber thrust forward, parried by Yin-Go's blue, return attack Yin-Go's blade knocked wide, the red saber slicing forward at the unblocked target, but Yin-Go lept backward toward the kitchen, out of the reach of the red blade. The attacker's left hand rose,cupped upward then pulled forward, and Yin-Go turned just a cabinet came crashing down over him.
Now there was no respite. His free hand rose, pushing the force to block the falling debris, sword hand moving to block the now constant attacks of the red blade. Sweat was forming on his brow as he remained on the defensive, more debris and kitchen utensils coming at him, including a set of carving knives. Several went unblocked, and he could feel the stabbing sting of metal pierce his arm and side.
Adubell slammed her saber hard into his, circled her blade and forced it wide again, knocking his weapon from his hand. Her red blade circled downward, slicing into his jaw. Yin-Go's scream turned to a gurgle as Adubell's saber rammed down his throat, then cut through his neck and chest as the jedi collapsed to the ground.
"Too easy"
Adubell extinguished her blade, hand reaching out, and Yin-Go's discarded weapon came to her. Carefully she tucked it into her own belt, next to the two others she had acquired that day.
From the other side of her belt, Adubell pulled out a thermal detonator, setting it before slipping into the shadows of the night.
TBC
-
Telos
Slightly south of Ruuria and still along the Hydian Way, Telos was a world of combined natural beauty, industrial strength, and trade. The Republic fleet that remained in orbit was constantly on-guard to the possibility of imperial attempts to steal republic resources, or even attempt to reclaim the planet for themselves. Originally under the command of Jedi Master Waring, a young captain who had served under Master Waring was put in charge after the Battle of Bastion.
Captain Tabat had admired the jedi's skillful application of defense resources. Telos was not an attack world, but a defensive position, and Waring had overseen construction on two Golan platforms here. Tabat, dispite the rhetoric against the jedi, believed them faultless, and still called on Master Waring every so often.
Waring himself was in a small, unobtrusive shuttle, his own jedi underlings remaining on the planet's surface as he went to visit the captain on one of the platforms. His vessel docked and he made his way down the ramp and through the causeway to the captain's private office.
"Come in"
Waring put on a small smile as he stepped in to meet the captain. What he saw, however, was wholly unexpected.
The captain was sitting in a chair, a glazed look in his eyes as he looked straight through the jedi master.
"thank you for coming. I've been looking forward to this"
The words came from the captain's mouth, but it was apparent he was not the one behind it. The door behind the jedi closed, and Waring pulled out his lightsaber, glancing around the room, looking for ...
"You cannot fight what you cannot see"
Again, the captain's mouth moved.
Waring stepped forward, igniting the blade, looking back and forth, searching through the force for the other presence he knew was here.
"Show yourself"
A piercing pain, hit him in his foot, and he glanced down - sticking up out of his boot was a red lightsaber blade.
Waring pushed his weight on his remaining good foot, jumping into the air and landing on the table in front of the captain, ignoring the searing pain in his maimed foot. Healing would come later. Now, he had to defend himself.
The floor panel with a smoking hole in it flew up and out she came, gray-skinned monster, her saber glowing as she advanced.
Waring raised his blade in defense, but then he felt himself grabbed from behind - the captain gripping his sword arm, preventing him from blocking as Adubell's blade came, slicing through his neck.
Waring's saber dropped, adubell picking it up and placing it in her belt. Her hand waived through the air, and Waring's body - and severed head - moved away from the table, hovering in the air by the doorway. Adubell turned to the captain, condescendingly patting him on the head.
"Good boy"
Adubell waved her arm again, the door swung open and she escorted the hovering remains of Jedi Waring through the door, back down the hallway, to his shuttle. She let him drop unceremoniously in the small cargo hold, moving to the cockpit, setting the automatic controls. She slipped out of the vessel as it began to lift away, smirking as it flew out of the docking bay.
*******************
"Captain, we have a ship that appears to be exiting from our docking bay, but we have no reports of it entering"
Captain Tabat shook his head.
"Shoot it down"
"Sir?"
"It's an imperial ship - I've seen this before. shoot it down before it escapes"
The Golan turned its weapons, firing a series of turbolasers on the shuttle, watching it explode
*******************
The jedi on Telos surface had not heard from Master Waring in far longer than they had expected, and they had felt a keen sense of loss, as if the presence of their master was no longer around. They worried, and considered contacting the jedi council. Jedi Ami and and Tanya were accutely aware that danger never seemed far from the jedi.
They both moved to the door of their apartment, when it suddenly caved, blasting inward, knocking them to the ground. Ami rolled left behind a sofa, Tanya ducked behind a desk, each peering up at the door. In walked a shadowy figure, cloaked in black, with gray skin.
"Stand up you pitiful creatures."
Ami rose first, blue saber igniting in his hand.
"Who are you"
The figure turned to face him.
"I am your killer - but I'd like to see if you are more fun to kill than your master"
Tanya stood, igniting her own green saber.
"Two at a time should at least be some challenge"
Adubell ignited her red blade.
"Now, who first?"
Tanya stalked forward, Adubell turned to face her, evil smile glowing in the mix of green and red light.
"Brave one. I respect that"
Red saber struck across the middle, blocked by green which in turn struck forward at Adubell's neck - red saber struck green blade wide, Adubell ready to swipe forward, but instead, lifted arms over her head, blocking Ami's strike from behind.
"stabbing even opponents in the back is a sign of cowardice."
She pushed her arms away from her body, pushing his blade and his arms away, then she swung around knocking his blade wide, Adubell turning again to parry Tanya's weapon.
"Such weaklings, you jedi are - two of you cannot over power one, and I even warned you of the fight. Come on! Hit me! Hit me!"
Adubell was spinning back and forth, striking back their attempts to score a hit, and yet it seemed effortless, her movements graceful in their own dark way. She could feel their frustration, their fear as they continued to be unable to penetrate her defenses, and she fed off it, relishing in it, let it course through her blood.
Finally she tossed her own weapon to ground, putting out her hands on each side of her, stopping the blue and green blades inches from touching her skin. Try as they might, the two jedi could not bring their blades any closer.
"This, young jedi, is what power feels like"
Adubell took a step back, bringing her spread hands together, watching as Ami and Tanya were flung at each other, their blades piercing into each other's torsos. They each disengaged their weapons, but each was too much in shock to pull away from each other.
"Close friends you must have been, to die in each other's arms"
Adubell pulled from her belt the lightsaber she had just collected from Master Waring, igniting the blade and slicing it in an arc through the air, decapitating the two younger jedi who now fell to the ground.
Adubell summoned her own saber and that of the jedi to her, dropping a thermal detonator as she made her way out of the room.
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian
Princess Dahlia Winton stares at herself in the mirror. By all outward appearances, she looks like the perfect teen. Popular, clever, beautiful, well adjusted. For the most part. She's had to see the school counselor ever since she returned to the Sector after "the incident." That's how her adoptive parents reference the abduction. It was meant to be sympathetic yet sensitive about her ordeal. At least, that's what Celeste said. She was always going on about how to acknowledge things while respecting the feelings of others. As if that served any purpose. Well, how else were they supposed to discuss their daughters kidnapping and subsequent torture? Somehow she senses it's more for their benefit than hers. She tells the counselor what she wants to hear, hitting all the right notes on the road to recovery. A healthy acceptance, she thinks she said.
Dahlia dabs on lip gloss and scrolls through the headlines. It's more of the same, really. A deal here, a takeover there. The Corporate Sector tends to stay on subjects that are financially relevant. She can appreciate that. What good is anything unless you can profit from it? Sure, sure, she does do things for her friends without immediate reward - sisterhood and all that. It's kind of like the long-con of the social world. In the end, the all benefit her in some way. Status, leverage, proximity, access; all good things to have in her back pocket…if she wore things with pockets. On the larger scale, she has her way into the Republic. The contract with VMG ensures her presence several times a year which gives her opportunity to drop in and see how things are going. Spring break is coming up and she looks forward to the visit. Garron is a total mess and could no longer accompany her to Chandaar. So much rage in that man. She supposes that's what you get with a dead sister and revoked travel privileges. She should know. Both her sisters are dead.
It would be just her and the shape-shifting Voss-Ra disciple Georgie who would swing by Ambaril and shake things up. She got rid of that pesky Counselor Prescott with the added bonus of torching her Jedi companion. With the borderline maniacal Speaker Apteen now out of the way, the playing field is wide open. Some people just can't handle their dark energy. Guess he wasn't cut out for the shadows. She sees that the Speaker's right hand, Senator Ingrat could be a contender along with Artemis Soldys from Corellia. She might be able to hang with Ingrat since he was most likely exposed to copious amounts of the darkness as well but Soldys? Those Corellian's just cause all sorts of trouble. Just look at all the damage Kimber did and she was riding a fine line between being cute and mentally disabled. Not to mention the pedophile philandering of Major Patten and drunken exploits of Valerie Gellar.
Artemis Soldys may be shiny on the surface but that uptight, morally righteous, go-getter attitude has got to go. If he makes a play for Speaker, she might have to sick a mindless Quinn on his ass just for the potential sex-scandal publicity. What a spectacular fall that would be. The rising Corellian star obliterated by perversion. There are also rumors circulating the Holo, sudden buzz about Gil Leeds. She pulls up his bio and sees he hasn't really been a power player within the Senate. She pauses on his homeworld, Contruum, and it strikes something in her. She's heard that planet referenced before.
Dahlia searches a bit of history until she comes upon the Winton name. She cross-references with Carlson's story. That's right, a clueless Karen scored Contruum for the Empire after she was forced into the Diploserve program. She and the then-Governor, Indew Strye had quite the history. According to the official entry, one of the conditions of Karen's little deal was that there would be no Imperial garrison's or presence on the borium rich world. That didn't last long and soon those shipyards were jammed with Star Destroyers. Kimber Patten was assigned as a replacement counselor, not the wisest Imperial choice, but from what she reads there was a fair amount of blackmail involved. And, in the most interesting piece of Kimber's colorful history, her tactics in handling a negotiation with the Hapan's led to an Admiral's abduction and death. Later, Karen returned to retrieve her friend after banging the Emperor then absconded with Governor Strye and he was never seen or heard from again. Dahlia wonders how that turned out for him. The world belonged to the Empire until Dementat's death after which the Republic began its expansion. Why would Leeds even be considered? She decides to inquire further when she returns to Chandaar during break.
The more pressing issue is Gemma who is always sneaking off to go on "walks" or "write music." Her love of nature and music aside, it became a little too suspicious. Dahlia followed her one afternoon and watched as another figure appeared when Gemma cleared the woods. The woman wore a beige cloak with a hood but she turned enough for Dahlia to see her face.
It was the Jedi Nevylinn.
Does she even have a last name? Dahlia has to laugh. She has been lurking around ever since her friends got tossed out from under the Senate Hall. Officially, she was supposedly here to oversee Republic affairs but that story fell apart pretty quickly when the Jedi got scores of people killed in battle. Since then she has kept to herself and it makes sense she would stick around. Dane said she and Gemma bonded on Naboo which is why he promptly left them there and took a joyride over to Corellia. Dane is another story entirely but he's a perfect spy except when it comes to Gemma. She tells him nothing of interest, even in casual conversation. Either she's on to him or she's playing it pretty close to the chest.
Dahlia watches Gemma very carefully when she's around. She acts no differently than she has in the past, not cagey nor distracted. Still, she feels like the blonde is hedging a little too close to Melanie territory with the patron saint routine. Always obedient, studious, does the right thing. It's annoying. Dahlia is convinced Gemma is a closeted Jedi, a fact that would send Lady Masterton into an early grave. In the photage Adubell showed her, a Masterton murdered a Winton.
Wouldn't it be a kick if a Winton had to return the favor?
-TBC
-
Toprawa
A remote forested world that lay on the Hydian Way, it had been home to a research center that helped develop the death star super laser, and had been the location from which the rebel alliance transmitted the death start plans to Princess Leia Organa. The world had been punished subsequently, under the oppressive rule of the Empire, and had only been freed when the Empire contracted after the Battle of Centerpoint, ten years ago. The local populace still felt the stings of imperial rule.
The Republic had been sensitive to the population's needs, the defensive fleet assigned to Toprawa larger than the planet was strategically worth as a sign of good faith. Jedi Master Bolden, the youngest of the jedi council, had spent much of his time on this world basking in the natural surroundings and developing relationships with locals.
Today, the sun was shining as he was using the forest to illustrate the connections of the force to the three jedi who were with him.
"Yoda used to say that the Force is around you - between you, me, the tree, the rock, everwhere. We are luminous beings, that can touch everything in ways more than just our hands"
"It's true - you can also be impaled, screaming in agony"
Bolden turned to see a grotesque female, gray skinned and wearing dark robes approaching.
"Who are you?"
"I was just commenting on your lesson, Master jedi. And also, I thought I would provide perspective for your students"
Bolden narrowed his eyes. The woman radiated the dark side of the force.
"You are the one - whose been causing the disappearances"
Adubell bowed lowly
"Guilty as charged." she stood straight again. "I find the jedi are a nuisance, better off not being around"
"We cannot let you get away with what you've done"
"Excellent. Draw your weapons, and let's see if four of you can overpower one of me. Your friends proved ... unimpressive. The last two impaled themselves on each other's blades, it was quite gruesome and agonizing, I must say."
By now, the four jedi had pulled out their lightsabers and ignited them: a green, two blues, and a yellow-hued blade.
Adubell turned her eyes from one to the next, taking a deep breath before springing herself high into the air, landing on a firm tree branch and staring down at them.
"Let's make this fun"
Out came her own lightsaber, red blade sliced through the wood of the branch on which she stood. The branch gave way, smoking slightly where she had cut and falling down over the jedi. Adubell meanwhile had leaped to a second branch, hewing a third as she passed it.
The jedi beneath scrambled to step away from the falling timber, watching as Adubell danced through the branches.
"Shall we follow her?"
Bolden shook his head "In the trees, we would be facing her one-on-one, and I have no doubt that she has the advantage in such a scenario."
Adubell finally pierced her blade into the heart of the tree trunk, holding the hilt and sliding down the tree. As she landed on the ground, she flourished her blade one more time, the tree, split, falling to either side.
"Wanton destruction - what did that do for you"
"I wanted the firewood"
Bolden's blade was in the air, blocking as Adubell's red blade came screaming down. She struck again and again, Master Bolden forced back several steps, trying to hold off the quick, repeated onslaught, until he tripped on one of the logs that had been cut down. Adubell prepared a strike, when the three other jedi lunged forward with their own blades, blocking Adubell from taking advantage. She quickly blocked one, then turned her blade around and slammed the second blade into the third, twisting her own saber and forcing all three of the jedi back several steps, before again striking out, right hand holding her weapon, letting one jedi parry, left hand waived through the air and a particular large splinter of wood sailed through the air, pinning the jedi's arm against a nearby tree. Adubell wasted no more time, arm sliding downward and slicing off the jedi's sword arm. His saber fell to the ground and deactivated. Adubell prepared for the kill when Bolden, recovered, blasted forward, this time on the offensive. His strikes were aggressive, and Adubell actually stepped back against the pressure, blocking each movement. She heard the crack of wood beneath her, and with an evil smirk, flung her left hand forward, the wood lifting off the ground and jamming Bolden in the gut.
The jedi master nearly dropped his weapon, stumbling back a few steps, and Adubell was back on the offensive, flipping through the air and making a downward strike against the reeling jedi, only to have it again deflected by one of the other jedi. The one with the lost arm had grabbed his saber with his still good hand and had rejoined the fight, and now the four jedi surrounded Adubell, blades at the ready to strike.
"Not bad. But I bet you'll never be ready for this"
She flung her weapon far into the air, directed toward another large tree limb nearby. Two of the younger jedi, seeing Adubell unarmed rushed in, ready to strike, but faster than they could react, Adubell had pulled two cylinders from her cloak activating them and spinning around with her arms outstretched. From one hand, a blue blade, from another, a green blade, and the two hasty jedi found themselves sliced in half.
Adubell turned to Master Bolden, his remaining pupil moving opposite him.
"I want to thank your colleagues for the extra weaponry"
Bolden was breathing heavy, but Adubell was not done playing. She feinted an attack with one blade, the struck hard with the second, again, Bolden on the defensive, the other remaining jedi student moving forward to support his master, adubell spinning and slamming her right saber against his, knocking it clean out of his hands. She dropped the blade, using her hand and lifting the jedi into the air, using the Force to push him hard into a sturdy, sharp tree branch. The jedi flailed around for several minutes before going limp. Adubell meanwhile turned on Bolden whose attacks were more ferocious, but also more desperate. Adubell blocked each of his attacks, slowly retreating backward until coming around the tree stump of the tree she destroyed.
"Enough of this"
From the remains of the tree, dozens of small splinters lifted into the air, smacking into Bolden, who was parrying against them. More and more wood chips fired at him, and finally, several hit their mark, cutting into his thighs and upper arms. He was limping backward as Adubell went on the offensive again, Striking downward hard, Bolden holding up his blade as Adubell continued pushing hers down. With her free hand, she grabbed a splinter from the ground, jamming it upward, underneath his blade, into his throat.
Bolden dropped his weapon, sputtering out blood, Adubell sweeping her weapon down and slicing off his legs.
As Bolden's movements began to grow more erratic, Adubell smiled.
"See? Now you are connected with nature"
She collected her cloak, and each of the fallen lightsabers, including her own. The fallen wood, that she said she needed for firewood was just that - for the next several hours, the bodies of the jedi burned, and by morning, there was nothing left of them but ash.
TBC
-
Hyperspace
With her trunks packed, Dahlia sets off for Chandaar in the Royal Cruiser piloted by the Voss-Ra spy, Georgie. While she is thankful to be rid of Garron's irritating oversight, she did gain a fashionable passenger in Janessa Kain. The liaison had to return to the Republic some time and the fallout surrounding Apteen's assassination seemed opportune. The RSB would undoubtedly be focused on that and leave Janessa the hell alone. After what they did to Garron, she isn't surprised to read of the excessive force suit brought against them by Kaytt Corinthos. Director Drakos is scheduled to appear this week.
Janessa is still stung by Circe's death. Although she would never admit it in public, she admired the Counselor. The kind of passion that drives someone to champion the rights of those who would turn on you exists in very few. A part of her had stayed away to compose herself. Garron is justifiably leveled but their complicated web of grief-fueled sex was enough to ease her suffering. She can't say the same for him. The physical connection is explosive but for him it fell more along the lines of self-destruction and blame. His emotional void turns her on unlike anything she has ever experienced. She watches the stars streak beyond the viewport and ponders her next move appearing before a Senate in turmoil.
There is only one goal for the CSA; stabilize the Republic deals by any means necessary. They could care less about their moral dilemmas so long as profits continued to grow. Their main obstacle is Corellia, who had managed to pull several contracts away from the Corporate Sector. ExO Iver Aguilar had instructed her to inquire into any "vulnerabilities." With Corellia and the Republic at large, there is no shortage. Aguilar suggested she exploit them.
Dahlia primps in her quarters. A carefully released brief by Escara Wu set the Holo ablaze with rumors of her return to Chandaar. Her namesake garners fanfare as well as suspicion; two aspects she will play into in order to build her brand. Dahlia is the anti-Alexia/Karen with a clue. While Alexia was completely insane, Karen came off, at least in some regard, as an elevated every-girl. She was fun and likable. Mostly. Dahlia aims for something more enigmatic and unattainable. What good is celebrity if you aren't living a life and wearing things the kids couldn't even begin to afford but would spend their time and credits clamoring to achieve? Karen may have been oblivious to the most significant part of her existence but she did one thing flawlessly – she made victimization glamorous. The public rallied around her and her friends in times of peril. She put a pretty face on senseless tragedy and everyone ate it up. When Dahlia appeared in that courtroom, she essentially one-upped the elder Winton in that category.
The long-lost Winton royal kidnapped and tortured before her heroic escape.
It was a made-for-Holo publicity powerhouse. Now that she has pulled herself from the wreckage of her ordeal and turned her tragedy into a public career, she has won the hearts and minds of millions. True, there are skeptics; the Jedi being the most obvious of those. What is that Winton girl up to? That face may scream innocence but those eyes say she is definitely up to something. Thankfully, the Jedi won't be sitting around conjuring up theoretical motives for her visit. Everyone else would be so busy with handling their own self-made crisis's – Speaker elections, public backlash over FURA, The Concealed's meddling, RSB's ongoing investigations and the lawsuit against them – that no one would really care about a model and her banal, superficial adventures.
As she sorts through her things, she finds the box left by Georgie. He had grunted something about it as he delivered her trunks but it had slipped her mind until now. She locks her cabin door before opening it. The interior contains a black, temperature regulated case with a note.
It reads: Field Subject
Dahlia carefully opens the lid, a small bit of steam escaping. There is a syringe fastened in the center filled with a deep, blue liquid. It is labeled with a thin white strip and black, bolded letters.
Ibellum.
-TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Ambaril
Word had reached the jedi master that Corellia would (secretly, of course), be willing to take in the scattered jedi from around the Republic and the galaxy. And the news seemed to come not a moment too soon.
He had not heard from the missing jedi on half a dozen worlds, and reports were coming in that the last known locations of the jedi were destroyed - by explosive or fire or other means. No trace of the jedi or their assailant had been found.
Nor had the change in leadership within the New Republic made any substantive difference to the predicament. Upon being sworn in as speaker, Gil Leeds said he was returning his focus of government on the war with the Empire, who had in recent days begun pestering the REpublic frontier with raids again. When pressed, on the question of the FURA, he said that he believed that the act had been abused by law enforcement, and that he was investigating the practices of the RSB, but that for the moment, he wasn't going to push for changes in the law, instead, asking for the populace to be patient.
Indeed, after the recent assassinations, Leeds presence did seem to calm stormy waters somewhat, with protests becoming more orderly and the Concealed, while still rumored to be around, had decided to lay low.
All of that may have been positive for the Republic, and for a senate turning in on itself, but it did not help the jedi, who still suffered from severe restrictions. He was hoping in the coming weeks to meet with the new speaker, but with jedi disappearing, fighting the FURA had taken a back seat.
Master Agnant was in the small, rundown apartment packing a small bag when he felt it - danger, drawing near. He turned abruptly to see her walking toward him, slowly. Adubell smiled.
"Master Agnant - are you going somewhere?"
The smile was almost as grotesque as the creature who wore it. Agnant eyed her cautiously as she continued to walk toward him. He recognized her - recognized her enough, at least, to know who she was. Or who she had been.
"You were killed. Dahlia Winton killed you. I saw your body."
She shook her head.
"I'm not so easily killed. In fact, I don't believe I can be killed at all."
"You've murdered quite a few jedi"
"Not enough. I'm here to finish one more"
"I think you might underestimate me, sith"
She paused, quirking her head sideways for just a moment.
"You call me a sith - and you assume I'm the one who underestimates you? Foolish, foolish jedi. I am more powerful than you can ever be. I am immortal. And by day's end, I will live, and you will die"
She didn't wait for his response, instead, leaping forward, red bladed saber igniting in midair with a downward stroke where his head had been. Agnant's saber was already lit by the time the strike came, and he parried it aside, taking a step back to balance himself. Adubell began an aggressive series of attacks, Each one blocked by Agnant, who remained defensive, never following up with a strike of his own. He watched, each move she made, jump, thrust, swing - each step forward. For several minutes this went on, Adubell the aggressive attacker, Agnant blocking on the defensive, but never breaking a sweat, staying calm, and refusing to engage in the attack more than necessary.
Adubell, for her part, kept up the assault, seemingly tiredless herself. But that didn't mean she wasn't growing inpatient.
"Come on! fight me!"
Swing, parry
"Fight ME!"
thrust, jump
"Spineless jedi, put up a fight!"
strike, strike, strike, strike.
She swung the weapon forward and he blocked again, this time harder than the last, then reached out with a hand and sent a push through the force, sending her careening against the opposite wall.
She regained her composure, the jedi still standing there, unwavering.
"You know, you aren't much fun"
"You are trying to kill me, am I supposed to be having fun"
Adubell shucked her cloak from her body, letting it fall on the ground. Beneath, a skin-tight jumpsuit with a utility belt, lined with multiple light sabers.
"Do you like my trophies? I hope so"
She pulled out a second blade, igniting a blue, and then came at him again, this time, double attacking each time, each arm working independently of the other, allowing strikes to come from either the same direction or utter opposites. Now Agnant began to feel the pressure, his defensive moves going back and forth to counter two sabers at a time. His wrist twisted back and forth blocking each move, and Adubell's onslaught grew ever more intense, hammering at him. FInally, he was forced back, and taking a deep breath, he pressed forward with an attack, knocking her arms to one side as he zoomed in his blade. Adubell twisted in time, parrying his blade away with one strike and swinging at him with a second.
Agnant twisted his arm upward, knocking one blade into the second, Adubell crossing her two blades to block his, then sliding them forward, closed to him. Agnant's weapon swung in a wide arc, moving beneath her weapons, then he smacked her arms hard upward, high over her head. His blade swung quickly, slicking into her exposed neck.
Only it didn't - just as his lightsaber connected with her gray flesh, it sparked and went out.
Agnant didn't have time to respond, dropping his own blade and grabbing a cylinder from her belt, pushing her back with a leg just as her two weapons were coming down against him. He ignited the new saber, a yellow blade, holding it in front of him in a blocking position.
"How?"
She smiled.
"The beauty about being me - You cannot kill me - my skin is laced with cortosis alloy. Your saber is useless against me."
She ran forward to strike again, his arms up, blocking as she struck time after time after time. He continued to block, never again attempting to strike her, instead just blocking her constant onslaught, and he found himself being pushed backward until pressed against a wall. She struck again and he lept out of the way, her blade slicing through the wall and sending smoke up toward the ceiling.
He ran toward the door, pressing the button before feeling searing pain in his leg - Adubell had thrown one of the lightsabers at him, hitting his right calf. He turned abruptly to see her coming toward him, swinging the saber in his hand over his head into the ceiling, letting the structure come down between him and his attacker. He then turned again, limping, out the door, running to the sewer entrance in the center of the street. Even as he stepped out, he could hear her bursting through, and he jumped down the hole, feeling the pain in his leg even more accutely at the impact - then hobbling to a small crevice around the corner.
He could hear her land in the sewer, wrapping the force around himself to hide his presence. Then he waited. Silence. He couldn't even hear the hum of a lightsaber.
Then BOOM - he could feel the heat of the explosion, and he was knocked, hard out of his hiding place, into the center of the sewer tunnel. He felt burns on his flesh, and he could no longer stand. He saw the shadowy figure approaching and he clawed with his arm to pull away. Red hue of her saber reflected on her face. She lifted it high and brought it down. His arm went up, white energy exuding from it, casting a protective force shield around him. Her blade was pushing down against it, and his face felt the pain and agony of the explosion and of his efforts. Sparks flew as she pushed down with her weapon, the Force alone his protection against her. His eyes closed, and he took a deep breath, trying to call on the Force, to strengthen the shield. But he was weakened. Her weapon drew closer and closer to him as the shield began to contract, finally red blade reached his hand, slicing between fingers, the smell of burnt flesh permeating as his force shield collapsed.
She stood over him, and he made a last desperate attempt, kicking out with his legs, but she had the upper hand - she sidestepped, then brought down her weapon, slicing off his legs and the remains of his arms.
"Turns out, that became fun after all"
She turned her saber straight down, piercing into the center of his gut, watching him writhe in pain, breathing growing difficult, she moved the saber up his body toward his lungs.
A gurgling noise came from his mouth as he began to spit up blood, eyes growing faint and finally lifeless as her blade seared through his heart. He twitched a moment longer before being still. She bent down, placing a second explosive in his bloodied mouth, setting the timer and picking up the saber the jedi had taken from her. That was her trophy.
And one more as well, sitting in the dilapidated apartment upstairs.
Then on for the hunt.
Later that day, news reports of an explosion effecting the sewer systems and water lines broke out, rumor of a gas leak, but the investigation was inconclusive.
TBC
-
Chandaar: Republic Capital
Surface: Serinus
The warehouse is freezing but Dahlia manages to keep her lip from quivering. There is an industrial chic vibe happening with the beautiful girls posing in what is essentially a construction site. Dahlia thrusts out her right hip and stares longingly over her shoulder until the photographer tells her to stop. She is pliable and easygoing, everyone commenting on how sweet she is.
As if they have a clue.
It's been hours and she's had a bottle of water and three crackers. Typical well-balanced meal for a model. Her stomach is growling and the thought of gorging herself on the fresh fruit and vegetables waiting for her in the suite in The Menagerie makes her weak in the knees. No wonder everyone looks pained. They are probably starving. Mercifully, the photographer has everything he needs and they are dismissed. Dahlia struts over to the changing area and gingerly slips out of the shimmering Nalaa Grey gown and pulls on a more sensible skirt and sweater. She pulls her crimson hair into a loose pony tail and throws on a pair of giant black sunglasses. Even though it's overcast outside, they are a necessary shield.
The sun is always shining when you're cool.
The girl who played Karen in the Vogue Empire movie said that. Was it a phrase her sister had coined? A quotable one-liner by a witty writer? Who knows? The point is that it's relevant and she's zoning out on the short ride back to her lavish digs. Quinn is waiting for her, having come from a shoot in Five Points. Her eyes are shaded silver and she looks exhausted.
"Today was grueling."
"Tell me about it," Dahlia says, making a break for the fruit tray. She inhales several squares of some kind of exotic melon and leans on the dresser in ecstasy. "Maker Almighty this is good."
"You eat?"
"Three times a day if not more. That's the staple."
"Not for me," Quinn says, fishing out a pill from her bag. She tosses it back with a shot of bottled water.
"What is that?"
"These new diet pills."
This implies there were old ones.
"But you're a size two."
"I could be a size zero."
"Yeah," Dahlia says. "If that whole sexy waif corpse thing from 3BBY was still in."
"It's retro."
"It's dangerous. Besides, food is good. Perks of our popularity include tables in the most exclusive restaurants with the best chefs. That's half the reason I do this."
Quinn smiles, "What's the other half?"
"Galactic domination."
She laughs, "You are too funny!"
"I'm a riot."
Still, there is concern. The parallel lines between Quinn and Muriel are not lost on her. Does she have a type? Does she attract the girl-in-crisis? Both have been practically abandoned by their parents with more money than they could ever spend. There are seemingly inevitable trappings trying to find a balance. The last thing she wants to do is have Quinn almost die on her too. Unless, of course, that thing she's supposed to inject Quinn with kills her.
The syringe is still packed neatly in one of her trunks. She knows what she is supposed to do but finds herself wondering what will happen. Her silent partners within the Empire and the Voss-Ra wouldn't set her up for a murder charge so it must do something else. If Quinn doesn't feel she has a purpose, she's about to. Probably a sinister one too. Dahlia has been trying to formulate a plan to discreetly administer the mystery agent. A needle that large would have to go into a thigh or buttocks. But it would also leave a considerable bruise and hurt like hell. Even if Quinn was under Dahlia's spell she would feel it afterwards.
Tough to explain.
Her mind also trails across to Speaker Leeds and his agenda. She read that the war effort against the Empire had been renewed yet the FURA and other questionable tactics have been ignored. She can't wait to see how the Empire will respond. Counselor Corinthos grilled RSB Director Drakos over excessive force during the civilian protests. He admitted to "mistakes" in handling certain situations but remained firm in his blame on The Concealed's influence turning the protests violent. Wonder if the jury will buy that. There is also a request from the reporter Selene Silvestri to appear on her Holo-cast, a request that has been emphatically denied by Escara Wu. It would not be in her best mysterious interest to be scrutinized by the tenacious Holo personality. She prefers to let them all wonder, only see glimpses of the redhead with a sly smile.
Quinn's voice jars her out of the introspection.
"Are we doing something tonight?"
"Not dinner, apparently," Dahlia quips.
"If I order an appetizer will you agree to go?"
"It has to be, like, a large appetizer. Something fried."
Quinn makes a face.
Dahlia sighs.
"Fine, at least a seasonal salad."
"Done."
She squeals and heads into the bathroom to shower. Dahlia wanders to the exposed rack of clothing and finds something suitably understated. It's just dinner, after all. She needs to save the spectacular looks for the high profile events. Quinn's purse lies open on the bed. Dahlia finds the small bottle inside. No label. Always a safe bet. No warning to tell you to rethink what you are doing to your body. She tosses them back and turns toward the bathroom, the sound of the refresher at full blast creeping through the door. Across the room, she finds a purse that would conceal the syringe case then ensures it does not clash with her dress. A night out would be fun, full of opportunities to find out just what kind of subject Quinn is going to be.
-TBC
-
Besh-Gorgon System
Former Location of the Wheel
Master Manoth and his squad of jedi pilots were practicing maneuvers among the debris. Leftover hulks of metal that had not yet been salvaged after the imperial attack, the Wheel's disappearance, and subsequent imperial withdrawal, proved a fabulous training ground to keep their skills sharp. Despite the renewed war effort against the Empire, this once bustling center of trade and primary target was now basically abandoned. Even the Republic navy wasn't using it much anymore. That made it all the easier to be a center of operations without dealing with Republic laws.
Lasers were set on "tag" mode, allowing the ability to acquire, aim, and fire at targets without any damage in the exercise.
"Red Five, coming in"
"Blue two, responding"
The squad had been broken up into two teams for the exercise, R5 and B2 circling around a larger piece of debris, each trying to hit the other. Their teammates were cheering them on, as they dipped into the hollowed out remains of an old freighter, laughing and waiting for their turns, when suddenly there was an explosion. Fire erupted from the hull of the freighter, and while two ships had entered, only one came out, looking battered and bruised.
"This is Red-5 ... Red-5, seeking assistance. Repeate, Red-5 seeking assistance"
The fighter was spinning wildly, and Master Manoth brought his firespray forward, activating a tractor beam to stabilize the vessel.
"Hang on, red... what happened"
"Don't know - we were firing blanks at each other, and then something sparked."
There was a hissing noise over the comm link.
"Master, I'm leaking oxygen"
"Put your mask on, I'm going to tow you in"
The firespray made a nimble turn and began pulling the fighter back toward the platform that worked as the base. That was when the second ship came out of the hull.
It was not Blue-2. The ship looked like a larger version of an advanced TIE fighter with an elongated forward section. It was moving fast, straight toward Master Manoth's vessel.
"Master! Look out!"
The tractor beam was deactivated, and Mannoth turned his ship to face the new visitor, who had opened fire with rapid lasers of its own. The wounded Red-5, with shields already down, burst into flames, the remaining four fighters and the firespray now speeding up to engage.
"That's a sith ship!"
Whoever the stranger was, they were ignoring the smaller snub fighters, focusing its power on the Firespray.
The jedi zoomed in to offer support, and Manoth responded with his own rapid fire, impacting several times on the sith-ship's shields.
The ship barrel-rolled away, then turned abruptly striking a series of laser bolts and the undercarriage of one fighter. The vessel ignited into a ball of flames, and the jedi had diminished even more.
The sith now began flying hard away from the jedi, who were following close on its tail.
There was a sudden surge through the force, as if two hands had gribbed wo of the three fighters and pushed them together, obliterating both.
One fighter left, still in pursuit, plus the firespray.
"Call off your pursuit"
"Master?"
"The sith is a better pilot and fighter than you. We need to live another day."
"But master I-"
The sentence never finished. From the rear of the sith ship, a mine had been deployed and activated, and the jedi fighter went right through it. Boom
Manoth cursed, turning a spray of fire on the sith ship which was making a wide loop around his position.
Manoth, rather than following, turned his ship another direction, intent on warning the jedi of the threat.
The sith had other ideas. Manoth watched as his clear path was suddenly marred by flying debris. Now he was on the defensive, forced to spin and dive and twirl as if he was in an asteroid field. At the same time, there was now laser fire again coming close from the background. Mannoth twirled his ship to face his attacker, letting off a ream of firepower - only to find that he was firing now at the sith ship, but at a mine.
He reached the mine just as it exploded, His firespray taking on heavy damage, the hissing of gases escaping, alarms sounding. He pressed the ship on auto-pilot, hurrying to the back to don an oxygen suit pulling down the latch, and watching the doorway get sucked out into space, him along with it. His exit happened seconds before the ship was again targeted by the enemy, this time disappearing in its own ball of flame.
Mannoth floated about for several minutes, when he saw the sith ship approaching, slowing down even as it did. He could see through the glass, the woman, grayish skin, dressed in black, an evil smirk on her face.
He watched as she pulled the trigger and then watched no more.
TBC
-
"Karen she's the silver sun, you best walk her way and watch it shine,
watch her watch the morning come."
-James Taylor
Hesperidium
Surface
The luscious resort moon lay deep in Imperial territory.
Just off the Metellos Trade Route, it is the furthest in orbit from where Old Coruscant once was and had been utilized by the Empire throughout its history. Luckily, it was left unscathed after Coruscant's destruction and, as a result, has a premiere view of the electrically charged asteroid field that remains.
Most outsiders would not be welcomed here.
Thankfully, the Corporate Sector and Empire maintain a lucrative business partnership. Key CSA officials were often treated to trips here while conducting business. In the tropical regions, there are a series of islands widely considered the gem of the moon. They are the reason people come here to let their troubles melt away. The largest island is called Iobatese which houses the central spaceport and government facilities. The west beach on Iobatese is where the entertainment district is located, full of restaurants and nightclubs such as the Bistro Bibliotheca and famous Club Hex. While there are residences on Iobatese it is the smaller islands that are the biggest draw. Stunning azure panoramic and white sand beaches, only the most affluent could even dream of owning a piece.
It is the island Diamant where this scene is set.
The Bolerathon Tower lies on the east end of Imperial Beach, a towering luxury monolith atop which sits the most coveted real estate on the moon. The glittering and unobstructed ocean views keep the units below full. Built as a joint venture between Alexander Winton and Henrick Masterton, they and their respective wives made a killing with the investment. As each of the shareholders were killed (see: murdered), sole ownership converted to Celeste Masterton for being the sole survivor. She had held onto the property, despite the somewhat painful association, and parlayed the profits into three trust funds for Dahlia, Gemma and Dane. Celeste wanted to ensure a solid future for her children and the guilt over her role in the prophecy kept her from using any of those profits for anything other than that future.
The top floor contains only two residences, the Winton and Masterton Penthouse's. There is no public access and the private landing pads are tucked out of sight on either side of the tower. Dahlia sets the royal cruiser down on the one marked with a W.
That must be hers.
Everyone had crashed out, completely wiped from the long trek. Dahlia wakes them and heads down the ramp and over to the platform door. The early summer sun warms her skin. She touches her key against the pad and a light turns green before the door hisses open. She enters a small hall which leads to a ramp and another door with a key pad. After punching in the code, the second door hisses open and she steps into a large foyer. To the left is the door from the corridor and to the right, a few steps that open up into the living room. There are wrap around windows that extend the length of the residence and a massive balcony curved down and around. The security detail exit into the corridor and take designated positions. Dahlia fiddles with the control panel on the wall, opening windows to let the ocean breeze sweep through. She had ordered the fridge and pantry to be stocked.
She takes it all in as Trichelle, Muriel, Demaris, Kier and Ples enter.
"Oh, Dahl," Muriel says, breathless. "This is gorgeous."
"Wow," Kier breathes, falling onto the couch.
Ples nods, "This is all yours?"
Dahlia smirks.
"Uh huh. Perks of being the last Winton."
"Morbid much?" Trichelle says. "I'm actually surprised your mother kept it considering all that happened here."
Muriel turns around.
"What do you mean?"
"A lot of people died here. Like, didn't your sister's doctor friend get butchered on the couch?"
Kier immediately stands up, arms out.
"Wait, what?"
Dahlia waves a hand through the air as it brushing it off.
"She wasn't killed there. She was just...displayed there. At least get the lurid details right if you are going for the shock factor. Besides, half the things in that movie were made up."
"The movie maybe," Trichelle presses. "But not the documentary. That guy did, like, massive research and had her friends as sources that lived through it. Until, you know, they didn't."
Kier struts around the living room.
"So, this is where Karen Winton hung out. Crazy. Imagine the parties that happened here. I guess the legacy will live on."
"That's the plan," Dahlia says, glaring at Trichelle.
Demaris stares through the window to the sparkling sea far below.
"I dunno, it's kind of creepy knowing The Four stayed here. Like we're vacationing with ghosts."
No one says anything to dispute this.
Demaris is still raw about losing Donovan and has become prone to melodramatic statements. Since Dahlia is pretty much responsible for that, she thought this would be the perfect thing to cheer her up. Nothing like a little fun in the sun to forget a brother blown to bits.
The living room is done is tasteful neutrals with sparse yet expensive abstracts. The largest hangs above the mantle, a colorful yet turbulent piece, signed McNeal in careful black strokes in the bottom right corner. There are decorative accents throughout but nothing garish. Everything is seemingly understated as if not to draw attention away from the view.
The group sets out to find suitable rooms. There are quite a few to choose from and everyone scouts for the best location. Dahlia finds the room that was clearly Karen's. It is painted a faded sage color with charcoal trim. There is a bed, desk and vanity which she browses. The pictures on the wall are the exploits of a long dead group of friends. They all seem so happy and aware in the photage. Not a care in the worlds. She supposes that was true at one time.
Dahlia pulls open the closet and steps inside. It is filled with so many dresses and pairs of shoes that she feels weak in the knees. This was Karen's arsenal. So many lovely things to distract her from the truth. Dahlia may revel in the spoils but she would not be blinded by it.
She moves back out into the room, spotting a picture tucked into the side of the vanity mirror. In it is a gorgeous couple, caught in a stolen moment of laughter. The man with the sharp features and fiery hair and the exotic woman with a sultry gaze. Her parents. She stares at them with a mixture of emotions. There is no certainty since she will never know them. All she has is their memory, things they left behind, and famed stories. Her father was a rich jerk with a supreme agenda and her mother a royal idealistic dreamer who defied him by giving her youngest daughter to an enemy.
Kier's voice booms through the hall.
"We have ale!"
She laughs and is about to respond when Muriel wanders in. She looks around, touching the edge of a picture frame near the door.
"This is your sister's room?"
"Yeah."
"How does it feel?"
Dahlia takes a deep breath then exhales.
"Feels right."
-TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Viiperi Lake
An unseen shadow descended from the night sky, landing only a short distance from the lake house. With engines powered off, only the keenest of eyes would see it. The soft chirping of insects filled the air as a solitary figure made its way through the darkness, to the back entrance of the home.
It is early evening, but the lights are off inside.
A hand waves in a semi-circular motion and the door clicks open.
As Adubell steps inside, the motion lights are activated by her presence, she takes a quick look around. Nobody is here to be alerted to her presence. That mattered little. to her.
"Oh, little sister"
Adubell's voice was mocking as she began to stalk around the room, hands lazily swinging, passing by her belt with its saber. Even if she was surprised (unlikely) she would be ready to strike back too quickly for her opponent to benefit. Not that even a death strike would really kill her.
"Come on, Nevylinn, I just want to talk. It's been so long"
She made her way down the hallway to the bedrooms. The silence was growing annoying, and rather than open the door, she kicked it, wood splintering where she struck it and door hitting the wall with a loud bang.
"Come on, little sister. Where are you?"
In the bedroom, she flung an arm wide, yanking the closet open through the Force. No one here, and the closet was empty. Nor did she detect the presence of another Force user. Nothing PRESENT, though there was a clear lingering signature. Nevylinn HAD been here - but wasn't here now.
"Oh, don't tell me tonight was the night you decided to go on the town. I hate waiting"
Adubell swung an arm upward, and the bed in the room flung upward as well. Nothing there either.
Adubell stormed out of the first bedroom and went on to each of the others, reaching the last room and tearing the door off the hinges entirely.
Like all the other rooms, the closet was empty.
Adubell's face darkened - as if that was possible.
"Maybe not just a night out, hmm? Maybe you decided too much luxury for the jedi ... or maybe, you were warned I was coming ..."
She flung the bed in this room aside as well, letting her anger flow through her, feeding her energy.
"That's what I get for saving you for last. I should have finished you off first, little sister, and then moved on to the rest."
Her arm struck the dresser and it crashed to the ground, a handful of contents falling out.
Adubell glanced down at the mess on the floor - a set of jedi robes ... a handful of datapads ... and a card.
Curiously, Adubell bent down to pick up the card, the words "Thank you" in decorative lettering on the front. She opened it, and a cruel smile came to her lips.
"Well well, little sister - it looks like you have been busy here"
Dear Nevylinn,
Thank you for all of your help. I'm learning so much, and I couldn't get through this without you.
Sincerely,
Demaris
TBC
-
"You can drive all night
Looking for the answers in the pouring rain
You wanna find peace of mind
Looking for the answer"
-Cage the Elephant
Hesperidium
Surface:
Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Demaris Atrii stares out over the glittering sea.
Her purple and black hair is caught in the perpetual breeze as the sun warms her pale skin. From the top of the tower, it feels like they are only people in the world. It's so quiet that she can barely hear the waves crashing on the beach below. Demaris takes in several, steady breaths and centers herself. The location is naturally conducive to meditation and she feels more normal than she has in months. It's been a struggle grieving when her family refuses to accept they lost their son but are perfectly willing to abandon their daughter. The time and space did give her ample privacy to hone her skills. She had opened doors and leapt from banisters using the Force as her guide. The rush was freeing but it also served to quiet her raging mind, one that had difficulty letting her brother's death go. There were no answers conjured out of thin air, no statement from the RSB on Chandaar. Donovan simply exploded and that was that.
She would replay the photage from the Holo, a morbid curiosity, over and over again in the giant, empty Atrii mansion. Counselor Prescott gripping the side of the podium as she spoke with Donovan standing stoically behind her. His eyes flickered to the right then he moves so quickly, lunging with tactical precision, his arm curling around the Counselor's waist then an orange burst followed by the cam going dark. She wonders what was going through his mind, wonders what they were doing together anyway.
Circe Prescott had been widely discussed on the Holo after she was arrested and put on trial with the murderess Janessa Kain. It was Dahlia that freed her and with so much focus on that, the details of Circe's incarceration and trial were swallowed by the more salacious reveal. Circe was accused of being controlled by the Force. There had been photage used by the prosecution during the trial. Photage of a very young Counselor stepping into a corridor.
Here, in the Bolerathon Tower.
Leaving a penthouse like this one.
Demaris turns around on the balcony and walks back toward the doors. Kier is stretched across a chaise lounge, tanning in blue micro shorts. As she moves through the living room, she can hear Dahlia and her stylist heatedly debating the necessity of an up-do with a strapless dress. She creeps out the door, into the wide and polished corridor, across the hall to the door marked with a large, cursive M.
She leans against the door, placing a hand over the controls. There is a beep, click then the hiss of the door sliding open in front of her.
"What are you doing?"
She gasps, whirling around to find Ples Aguilar standing behind her.
"Ples, hi. I'm just, you know, exploring."
His face is creased with confusion as he peers into the residence.
"Who lives there?"
At the end of the corridor, the lift chimes signaling its arrival, most likely Trichelle and Muriel on their way back from the spa downstairs. Demaris grabs his arm, steps back and pulls him through the door. It hisses closed behind them. They stand there in silence for several minutes as the girls enter the Winton penthouse.
Demaris is staring up into his face, pressing a finger over his lips. She turns and moves through the circular foyer, down a long hall and into the open living room. Everything is white or a pale blue, stark and sterile. It looks almost like a posh and well furnished hospital. Ples reluctantly follows, eyes wandering over a framed picture of Celeste Masterton, a girl that is not Gemma, and a man he does not recognize.
"Uh, Dem? I think we might be trespassing."
"Oh, no, we definitely are," she says, moving deeper into the residence. "This is the Masterton Penthouse. Circe Prescott was here."
"When?
"Almost twelve years ago."
"I don't get it…"
"She was Melanie's friend. You know, Gemma's older sister."
"What about her?"
"The story goes that Circe was supposed to be on the Centerpoint Station when it was destroyed but Melanie sent her away just before the battle. The Corellian reporter gave her their story and she escaped. Then she came here to mourn her friend and was manipulated into doing those things by the Sith."
Ples glances around uneasily.
"Yeah, I'm gathering a lot of bad stuff happened here. Why are you so curious?"
"Because Circe doesn't make sense to me."
"Is she supposed to? She's dead, Dem. Just like Gemma's sister is."
"My brother and the Jedi didn't even speak out on her behalf at the trial. Their testimony could have swayed the jury but no. Not even a statement. Then all of a sudden they are crime-spree buddies who the RSB claim teamed up in a separatist movement that ended in their deaths? That doesn't track for me."
Ples frowns.
"Death isn't always something you can rationalize. It's random and unfair. Who's to say anything was going on between them? The Holo says the RSB is full of shit anyway."
"I just want to know."
"You want closure," he says, standing in front of her. "I get that. But breaking into other people's houses to get answers isn't the way."
Her entire body jerks and she is thrown into his arms.
A flash, white to black, followed by pulsing then total blackness. Through the blackness half a woman's face appears through an unseen light, slowly emerging to reveal dark eyes and gray skin. There is a hiss, followed by another then another as different color sabers are ignited, their collective hum growing toward a terrifying crescendo. The sabers begin to twirl, slowly at first then more quickly as they each strike the gray skin to spark and wink out until there are none left. The face does not flinch, just levels a menacing, knowing stare. As it sinks back, out of sight, the low thrum of laughter can be heard. Then another voice, one that is light and soft, whispering.
"You are not the only one who saw monsters here."
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface
Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Ples Aguilar kneels on the tiled floor holding a shuttering Demaris in his arms. She gasps and pants as his face slowly comes into focus. Exhaling, she glances around and realizes they are still in the Masterton Penthouse.
"What happened…?"
"I dunno," Ples says, panicked. "You...collapsed and started shaking and…"
"And what?"
"Your eyes turned white."
"White?"
"Yeah, like, completely."
She instinctively touches her eyes, making sure they are still there. She turns, catching her reflection in the side of the glass table. She looks fine now. Eyes are normal, dark but wide. She releases his shirt which she had been tightly clutching and sits up. He steadies her, unsure about what to do. He was about to get the others for help but it was over just as suddenly as it had begun.
"That was intense."
"Intense doesn't even begin to cover it. I think you had some kind of stroke. You were calling out, mumbling things. We should probably alert medical."
"No," Demaris says, squeezing his arm. "I'm fine. Really."
"I'm not so sure. What did you see?"
She cringes, looking away.
"Demaris, you saw something, something that scared you. Tell me what you saw."
She swallows and finally brings her eyes to meet his.
"I saw a monster."
"Where?"
"I don't know…"
Ples leans back on his heels, working through what just happened. What had happened before at the Atrii mansion right after Donovan was killed. All the things he'd read and heard about. The uproar in the Republic over people who could see things and move object with their minds. It makes a strange sort of sense. She's a sensitive girl, bright and antisocial, which is why he had been drawn to her. She's not like the other girls. Maybe not like them at all.
"You are...Force Sensitive."
"Don't be crazy," she tries laughing it off. "You mistake a dizzy spill with some kind of clairvoyance."
"It's not just the spell. You moved stuff in your room. We all wound up unconscious in your house. You can see and feel things other people can't. And I saw the note."
"What note?"
"The one you wrote to the Jedi on D'ian. It was on your desk."
"You had no right-"
"Absolutely, I had no right to violate your privacy but I'm worried about you, Demaris. We all are. We know we can't fix you but we do want to help you heal. I know, I know, it's sounds cheesy coming from me but I talked to Gemma's mom and she said being present and available to someone who suffered a loss can be helpful. I'm just, you know, trying to, uh, help."
He's rambling.
She smiles.
"Are you saying you care about me?"
"Well, yeah. I don't care if you can use the Force. That sounds bad. What I mean is, it's cool. You are cool."
"Am I?"
Ples grins, "The coolest girl I know."
"That's sweet."
"Yeah? I can be pretty sweet."
He leans down, her head tilts. Everything slows down. Their lips brush together. His com bleeps loudly, slicing through the palpable romantic silence and scaring them both. He sighs, fishing it out of his pocket.
"What?"
"Dude," Kier says. "Where are you guys? We're going out on the town tonight and Trichelle is totally losing her shit that you two aren't ready."
Ples laughs, "We took a walk. Be there soon."
He clicks off and looks over at her.
"The tribunal is raging."
He stands and helps her up, careful to ensure nothing was touched or moved. She stops him on the way to the door.
"No one else can know. You shouldn't even know."
"Why not? The Sector doesn't have any laws like the Republic."
"It's not just the registration thing. It's everything. It's dangerous."
He knows her well enough to trust her.
"It's our secret."
*
Cut to the Winton Penthouse, Dahlia yells at Trichelle while Muriel fights with her dress and Kier sits on top of the kitchen counter with a bottle of ale in his hand, sunglasses on, swinging his tan legs back and forth.
"Where the hell did you guys go?"
"Around," Demaris says, shaking her head. "There are beautiful beaches as far as the eye can see. You should check it out."
"I plan to," Kier says, hopping off the counter. "But tonight is about being seen."
Muriel groans, brushing tousled blonde hair over her shoulder.
"He's hoping to ride Dahlia's coattails right into the spotlight."
"That's why I got sunglasses on, baby."
"Oh my," Dahlia says, narrowing her eyes at Trichelle. "Is your boy-toy going to be a problem?
"If you'd stop bitching at me for, like, ten seconds I might be able to go back to being his handler."
Trichelle storms toward the kitchen. Dahlia calls after her.
"It's not my fault you are trying to wear clashing patterns! I'm trying to spare you the backlash from those critics on the Holo. You show up in the wrong thing and they will rip you to shreds. Live. For like, twenty solid minutes."
"Fine, no embellished shawl. Maker, Dahlia. You are such a pain."
"But a fashionable one."
After a shower, Demaris is feeling better. The image of the face still haunts her but the almost-kiss with Ples certainly does the trick to deter it. She slips on a simple, black skirt and a deep purple and black corset. The eye make-up is dark and dramatic with just the right amount of punk. Black boots and a slick clutch purse round out the look which is in solid contrast to the brighter and preppy outfits of her peers. Decidedly different is the way to go.
Ples is waiting in the living room dressed in brown shorts and a beige button up with Kier, Muriel and Trichelle on the couch. Dahlia breezes in looking impossibly hip and grabs her purse.
"Shall we?"
Kier hoots his way out of the penthouse. Soon they are speeding across the glistening water as the sun sinks below the horizon, casting a brilliant orange glow. They arrive in West Iobatese Beach just before nine. The hoverlimo idles in front of Bistro Biblioteca. Dahlia places a heel on the ground and steps up and out. Flashes explode. Her name is shouted from all directions.
For the Empire, this is a big deal.
The last Winton royal has come home, taking her place in the public story of glamour and fame. She turns and flashes a smile, moving forward as each of her friend's exits into another world. Kier soaks it up with Trichelle at his side acting vamp. Ples stays close to Demaris while Muriel tugs at the curled ends of her hair.
While they might not all be famous, they all have famous parents. The son of an athletic great, daughter of a Holo-plex star, son of the Direx Board IxO, the monopoly public utility heiress, and the daughter of the wealthiest family in the Sector. They become instantly labeled.
Princess Dahlia and the Sector Entourage.
They fan out and pose appropriately as Dahlia had coached them. Amazingly, they do not look as awkward as they did in her living room. Photage is captured, bylines created, and the uproar is exactly the kind of fabulous she wanted. They break and file into the restaurant. The Bistro had been a staple of Hesperidium for as long as anyone could remember. The subtle decadence of the venue and offerings never goes out of style.
From there, they walk down to Club Hex. They are all well under age to gain admittance to the club but Dahlia walks straight up to the bouncer and tells him to let them in. His face goes slack then he nods, unhooking the velvet rope for them to pass. As they file in, Demaris watches the bouncer stare off into space. She then follows Dahlia through several sets of soft, heavy curtains into the club. It's early so the music is more downbeat electronic and makes it much easier to converse. Dahlia selects one of the VIP tables and motions to the chairs and couches.
Dahlia catches a passing waiter and leans close to whisper in his ear. He returns with a bottle of champagne. Glasses are filled and raised but Demaris feels something off. Ples even looks somewhat skeptical as he spins the stem of his glass between his fingers. Kier, Trichelle and Muriel are reveling in the awesomeness of the moment, sipping and giggling, as Dahlia sways in place to the music.
There is dancing and more drinking and soon the club is packed to the rafters with the DJ spinning the latest house. Multi-colored lights swirl over the writhing crowd. The colors flash and change, becoming lightsabers swirling in her mind. Demaris dodges arms and bodies as she slips off the dance floor and heads for the door. She needs to get out of here.
Down on the beach, stomping through the sand, Demaris stares out over the dark ocean and tries to catch her breath. Everything had become suddenly so overwhelming. She shakes it off, feeling the cooling sea spray as she veers close to the edge of the waves. She stands staring out, feeling an ominous shroud looming over the black waters. And she says without even really knowing where the words come from, what they truly mean.
"...a beast rise out of the sea."
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
After a day of seeing and being seen, even Dahlia Winton desired a moment's respite. She had easily snuck away from the security and the paparazzi that was trying to track her every move and found herself on the private beach, alone, watching the sun set disappear beneath the horizon. In her hand, a stylish clutch purse, containing a few of the essentials every starlett needs. Makeup. Comb. lightsaber. After all, if she was going out alone, she wouldn't dare be unarmed.
The waves crashed along the shore in a pleasant rhythm, and Dahlia looked upward, the dazzling lights of the Coruscant Asteroid Field Ion Storms flashed like little jagged worms in the gaps between the stars.
"Enjoying the view?"
Dahlia was startled, turning quickly to face the one who intruded on her solitude. The smack to her face sent her reeling backward. It felt more like a metal bat than a hand. Dahlia raised her arm to cup her already swelling cheek to look at her intruder, eyes going wide as the ashen-skinned woman stepped toward her.
"Adubell - you're alive?"
"Disappointed?"
"How can you be alive? I saw your body rotting. I killed you."
"Not entirely, Winton. As it turns out, a few stabs from a lightsaber are not enough to kill me"
"Maybe a few more would do the trick"
Dahlia's purse had fallen to the sand when Adubell hit her, her right arm reaching out, summoning the weapon within. It ignited, blood red - Alexia's color and Dahlia ran forward, swinging it against Adubell who stood idly by. As the blade struck Adubell's throat, it shorted out, Adubell's hand reaching forward and smacking Dahlia again, hard in the nose. She went teetering backward, blood now dripping from her face.
"Stupid, foolish girl. You still know so little. After everything you've seen, your still missing it. You. Can't. Kill. Me. Lucky for you though, I'm not here to kill you, or you'd already be dead. You've grown weak, Winton. A few months in the cozy house and living it up as a model, and you are as pathetic as you were when I first found you"
Dahlia's hand was covering her nose.
"How am I going to explain this to"
"To whom? your friends? A reminder, Winton - Sith don't have friends. We have servants. We have enemies. We may even have allies. But we don't have friends. Friends make us weak. Your friends have made you weak. As for your face - you're a sith. If you can't heal a few bumps and bruises, than you really are as weak as I believe you are. While you are busy vacationing, things have been progressing. Either you need to shed your weaknesses, or the sith will shed itself of you"
"I stay around them because it suits my needs"
"Really? Bringing Demaris Atrii here suits your needs? The girl is not a charity case, Winton. She's been meeting with the resident jedi at the Masterton estate. She, like her thankfully dead brother, is gifted in the ways of the Force, and has been training as a jedi"
"That's ridiculous"
Adubell pulled from her cloak the note, signed by Demaris and showed it to Dahlia
Dear Nevylinn,
Thank you for all of your help. I'm learning so much, and I couldn't get through this without you.
Sincerely,
Demaris
"She was going through a lot - this doesn't mean."
"Of course it does. And you know it does. So it's time to stop making excused, time to stop playing counselor and friend to your superficial comrades, and do what needs to be done."
"And what needs to be done?"
"Demaris Atrii needs to die - and you need to be the one to kill her."
TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
The Bolerathon Tower is silent in the very early morning hours. The parties stories below and down on the beach have long since faded out. The whisper seems to boom through the room, jarring her from a deep sleep.
"Demaris."
She sits upright in the bed, rubbing her eyes.
"Hmmm? Muriel, it's the middle of the night."
But her friend is not moving. Muriel slumbers peacefully in the other bed, the sounds of her rhythmic breathing soft and even. Demaris looks around, confused, when she hears it again.
"Demaris."
This time, she recognizes the voice.
"Jedi Nevylinn?"
"Come, Demaris."
She pulls on a thin robe over the short nightgown and pads out into the room. There is no one in the hall or in the living room.
"This way."
And she feels it, pulling her toward the front door. She creeps out into the bright corridor. The security agents that should be posted are nowhere to be found. She moves across the hall to the door of the Masterton Penthouse. Of course. Nevylinn knew Melanie Masterton. She told her they were friends at the Jedi Academy. There was a duality in the way Nevylinn spoke about Melanie. A deep respect and reverence for the courage she had shown in helping to stop the Empire. There were also traces of skepticism and uncertainty at Melanie's superficiality, something the Jedi are supposed to free themselves of. Demaris can sympathize, having grown up in the same world of excess.
Demaris uses her powers to unlock the door and steps inside. There is a cool draft coming down the hall. She wanders silently into the living room where the balcony door is open and the sheer, white curtains dance in the breeze. There is a figure in the center of the room with their back turned.
"Jedi Nevylinn, I didn't expect to see you here. Is something wrong?"
"They know."
"Know what?"
"About you."
Demaris shakes her head, "No way, I did all the things you taught me. I was so careful."
"Were you?"
"Okay, look. One person does know. But that's all, I swear."
"Who?"
"Ples. I didn't tell him. He just…knew. But I get it; I know why we have to stay hidden. It won't happen again."
Nevylinn turns around, her face disintegrating into blackened, scarred skin.
"No, it won't."
The Jedi's visage disappears and in its place is a monstrous figure. It looks vaguely human but mutilated in a way that is too horrifying for words. It's mouth opens to reveal a set of razor sharp teeth that slice through already bleeding lips.
Demaris gasps, backing away.
It leaps at her and before she can scream it is on top of her, hand clamped over her mouth. A waking nightmare, the monsters she heard in her mind. She struggles but it lifts her easily, dragging her toward the open patio door. She tries to scream but it is muffled by it's hand. It hauls her up high and she stares with eyes wide as she fully comprehends what is happening before it pitches her over the side. Demaris disappears into the blackness beyond.
Dahlia steps out of the shadows. She hated having to do that but Demaris was grieving and curious. Combine that with Jedi training and suddenly she would be investigating like some Force-sensitive Gothic super slueth. And Dahlia didn't know. This whole time she had been concealing her Force signature. Impressive...for a newb. More importantly, she doesn't need someone digging into Donovan Atrii's death. The RSB's inconclusive report is where it should end. The Voss-Ra disciple joins her in the living room.
"Clean it up and I'll see you in the morning."
The Voss-Ra morphs from monster back into the security agent Georgie and nods. In the corridor, she pauses by the door of the Winton Penthouse and runs her finger along the cursive W. The Gellar security team got a mysterious call to investigate a disturbance in the lobby but would be back soon. It was enough time for her to be back in her room and Georgie to return to his post.
She taps on the vanity light in her room, staring at herself in the mirror. It had taken an unnecessary chunk of her afternoon to repair her face from the damage a resurrected Adubell had inflicted. The nerve of that bitch. Who the hell does she think she is bossing her around like that? The Sith student is supposed to kill the Master. It is their way. Except this time, the Master didn't stay dead. If Dahlia were her, she would have chosen another body. Adubell looked absolutely terrifying which, she supposes, is exactly the effect she was going for.
Aside from the not-able-to-be-killed thing, the most unnerving part of Adubell's reemergence is the insinuation that the Sith could somehow shed themselves of her.
She is Dahlia-fucking-Winton.
She is entitled to an entourage without the color commentary. They are a necessity to authenticate her cover. Things are progressing. She just didn't know Adubell was still a part of their progression. True, Demaris veering toward the light side needed to be stopped but she hoped for another solution. Surprisingly, it would be easier to explain than she thought.
The simplest answer is usually the right one. That's what all the procedurals on the Holo always say. Demaris lost her brother and that grief compounded by absentee parents was enough to qualify any subsequent strange or irrational behavior despite the best efforts from her dear friends.
Dealing with Ples would be trickier.
His father, Iver Aguilar, is the Direx Board ExO. Taking out Ples would draw way too much attention to her. However, he could serve a greater purpose, she thinks darkly. He is an Aguilar and House Aguilar, like House Gellar, Atrii, Dawning, Corinthos, Dyre and Nash control a majority of the Corporate Sector. Lady Masterton and the Mondder high society would be thrilled if she found herself a nice boy. Someone to fit snugly into those unrealistic and self-serving CSA expectations.
Dahlia curls up in bed, no where near sleep. She has her own agenda and she'll be damned if she is going to let Adubell rain on her parade.
-TBC
-
Hesperidum
Surface: Diamant Island
Muriel Monroe groans and turns over, stretching out across the length of the bed. The cool, salty ocean breeze lulled her into a deep and satisfying sleep. She has not felt this rested in a while. She sits up and slides out from under the thin sheet, noticing that Demaris is not in the other bed. In the hall, she can hear voices coming from the kitchen.
Trichelle is placing freshly baked rolls onto white plates, holding one up when she sees Muriel appear at the edge of the living room. She pads over and falls into a chair with a fresh cup of coffee that Kier hands her. Dahlia sits across from her and smiles. They were having a great time, a much needed holiday from the pressures of school and society and their great houses. Ples shuffles in rubbing his eyes. Dahlia pats the seat beside her and he slumps into it. Trichelle is all over the breakfast thing, a real housewife in training. Granted, their droids did most of the heavy lifting back in the Sector but she does have the touch setting up a fabulous spread. They eat in relative silence with the Holo on the background.
News reports of a Republic victory at Garqui dominate the cycle. Commentators discuss tactics and strategy and what this could mean for an Imperial expansion if Republic borders were shored up.
Only one of them is paying mild attention whilst pretending not to. A Republic win? That's never a good sign, especially if the Empire has any plans of toppling their enemies and expanding their territory. Dahlia wonders what Schrag is up to over there and if these are the plans Adubell said were progressing.
Ples glances around, "Demaris isn't up yet?"
"She must be," Muriel says through a yawn. "She isn't in her room."
"She's not?"
She shrugs, "She probably went for a walk."
"She did go on and on about those beaches the other day."
"Seriously," Kier says, "It's like she's never seen a shore before."
"Not ones like this. The shores at Viiperi Lake are all woodsy and lush. These are…magical."
The conversation chills Dahlia who is waiting for the security team to burst in with news of the battered body found at the bottom of the Bolerathon Tower.
But it never comes.
Trichelle and Muriel shower and head over to Iobatese Island to do a little boutique shopping while the boys rent water skiffs to cruise around the bay. Dahlia takes a long bath and contemplates her actions. Having a friend killed, especially after having her brother killed, isn't exactly the turn she expected the holiday to take. It was reactionary, desperate move to keep Adubell off her back. It is true her Master could strike her down at any moment and that does not sit well with her at all. The annoyance of it all is too much. She can't even.
The day passes in the languorous way they do on The Hessy.
How hard is it to find a dead rich girl in the sand? Georgie could not have throw Demaris that far, certainly not far enough to land in the ocean. Maybe she was on the sand then got washed out in the tide where the body would never be seen again. That would actually be the best case scenario even though she is prepared to mitigate the alarm and shock when Demaris is discovered dead. The story in her head, the tears of confusion, is all on queue.
Later, in her room, Ples walks in as she is dabbing on lipstick before dinner.
"I think we should look for Demaris."
Dahlia turns, brow creased with concern.
"She isn't back yet?"
"No, and her com-link is still on the nightstand with her purse."
"That's strange. A girl never leaves without it."
"Right," he says, frowning. "Muriel said pretty much everything is still there."
Dahlia straightens the strap to her dress and stands.
"Well, then ask one of the security agents. She can't leave without passing a few. Surely someone has seen her."
Ples and Kier talk to the agents outside but not one had seen her leave this morning or the previous evening after they all returned to the Penthouse. The crew is starting worry. Given Demaris' mental state lately, their minds wander toward the same dark conclusions. It wouldn't be the first time in this group, as Muriel's wasn't a success but that wasn't for a lack of trying. Trichelle is trying to keep everything light, straying from the obvious fact that this place is cursed and insists they go to dinner.
"If she's not back after that, we'll explore other options."
Everyone can agree on this but Ples lingers behind them as they file out into the corridor and move toward the lifts. He glances across at the cursive M as he passes and wonders if he should speak up about what happened. She did swear him to secrecy but with that stuff, one can never be too careful after all that went down. The Empire is no keener on the Force Sensitive than the Republic seems to be these days. He keeps quiet and plays along but the vibe throughout dinner is uneasy, false. They smile for the random cam's that swoop in on Dahlia as they cruise the West Iobatese Beach boardwalk. Thankfully, this meal is far more casual and they are able to eat alone in their own little world.
Trichelle suggests a movie but that is shot down since Muriel refuses to see anything her mother appears in. Kier thinks they should hit the club again but Ples is not in the mood, none of them really are.
Back at the Winton Penthouse, they find it empty.
Ples explains to the agents that their friend had not been seen in almost twenty-four standard hours. Dahlia provides enough tragic detail about who Demaris is so that the security team grasps the implications. A section of the team splits off to do a cursory search but something more comprehensive come morning.
He closes the door, grabs a beer from the counter and joins his friends on the patio. Everyone is spread around on chaises and stools, staring off into the distance. A downtempo beat blends through the house system.
They retire to bed early.
In one of the guest rooms, Trichelle shakes her head.
"We've been at murder penthouse for a few days and already someone is missing."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"This place. It's completely haunted. You know, the rest of The Four weren't the only dead friends Karen Winton had. I'm talking trail of bodies."
Kier laughs, propped up on the bed.
"You are so full of it."
"Am I? There was, like, a massacre in this penthouse. An entire team of agents got butchered all over this place."
"That was so long ago, babe."
"Yeah and this place has sat empty for years waiting for a new batch of wayward, morally ambiguous teenagers to show up."
"Like, we've awakened something evil?"
"Totally."
He groans, "That's insane."
"Then where is Demaris?"
"I don't know. Probably wandering around thinking about how empty the void is or whatever. You know her; she's super weird like that. And after all that stuff with her brother she's gone a little…"
"A little what?"
"Crazy."
Trichelle makes a face.
"I'm not saying it's her fault or anything but she did have some crazy, fucked up shit happen to her. I mean, come on. Her brother gets nuked then her parents take off and she's all alone in that giant house."
"Muriel is alone in a giant house."
"My point exactly," Kier says. "Look how that turned out."
Trichelle sighs, falling onto the bed next to him.
"Point taken."
"Baby, sometimes people have to work out their shit their own way."
"Spoken like a true Kincaid. Suck it up, power through, deal with it."
"Then you'll let go of the crazy talk?"
"No more talk of curses."
He kisses her and she rolls over to tap the light off. Kier drifts off to sleep but Trichelle can't help but thinking that this is all par for the course with the Winton's. Morbid curiosity compelled her to accept the invite and come to Hesperidium but whatever is going on here, she's sure it's Dahlia's fault.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: West Iobatese Beach
The music in Club Hex is thumping and the crowd bumps and grinds to the deep house cuts spun by a galactic-class DJ. Dahlia is lounged in one of the exclusive area's watching a flute of champagne go as flat as her mood.
Trichelle strides in and grabs a bottle of water. She exhales and falls onto the bench next to Dahlia.
"Did you hear? The Empire wants, like, peace or something."
"That's the word on the Holo."
"So crazy! I mean, what are they thinking? The Republic isn't going to fall for that."
"Oh, the Republic falls for all kinds of things."
"What?" Trichelle says, leaning closer.
"Nothing."
Dahlia has been stewing ever since she first heard the reports streaming out of Byss. Could it be true? She is seriously starting to question the Emperor's sanity. Throw in with the good and plenty's? Why? They are so…what? Irritating? Maybe. More like self-righteous pricks. And why wasn't she given the heads up? Hello, she is, like, totally integral to their plans and stuff. That Sith relic must be wreaking all sorts of havoc on the Speaker's psyche not the mention the disgraced RSB chasing their tails over the deaths of two prominent figures along with scores of civilians. The clashes with the Empire keeps them busy with external affairs so that they have little time to ponder the enemy within.
Unless…
Why not stir up some trouble in person in the Senate? That is, if they can finagle a spot at the already crowded table. It took Corellia damn near a decade. The chances of them scoring something like that seem pretty grim given their history. It's a new tactic, certainly not one she would have chosen, but the Emperor must have some kind of motive. She just wishes she knew what that was.
"I need some air," Dahlia says. "Why don't you round up the crew and meet outside?"
Trichelle nods, slipping back into the writhing crowd.
Dahlia saunters past the longing stares, down the stairs and out into the cool, night air. The salty breeze is a nice change from the stuffy club. Thankfully, the paparazzi already had their fill of them on the way in. However, they did seem to notice the change in their numbers, inquiring about the Atrii heiress.
It has been over a week since anyone saw Demaris. The security detail scoured the already edited tapes showing Demaris leave the Winton Penthouse and enter the Masterton. She is not seen again. They had searched the Masterton Penthouse but found no trace of her. No sign of her being there. No sign of her ever leaving. It is as if she just vanished. Everyone has more or less resigned themselves to the fact that Demaris somehow took off. Everyone except Ples, that is. Convincing him would prove more difficult but Dahlia has begun working her spell on him.
She lifts her eyes up briefly, catching the colorful swirl of the Coruscant asteroid field, feeling...something.
Down the beach, near the water, Muriel stares out into the dark ocean. The wave's crash and slide up the sand over her bare feet. Her blonde hair is tousled and caught in the breeze. Dahlia pads down toward her, heels sinking in the wet sand.
"What are you doing down here?"
"I just can't help thinking. I hope Demaris wouldn't…do what I did."
"Muriel, it's okay."
She turns, "No it's not, Dahlia. I wanted to die and if you hadn't been there I would have."
"Hey," Dahlia says, taking her hand. "I would never let anything happen to you."
This truth is tempered by Adubell's words. Allies or enemies. Aside from the power and fame and plotting, Muriel is really the only thing Dahlia does care about. It doesn't matter if a friend complicates things. It is nice to have the companionship.
Muriel smiles and they embrace as Kier steps out onto the sand.
"Get a room, you two!"
Dahlia laughs, "You wish."
"Every night."
Trichelle playfully punches him in the arm, "Are we going or what?"
Dahlia and Muriel join the others back on the boardwalk. Kier and Trichelle take the lead with Ples trailing behind them. Dahlia and Muriel swing their arms as they walk along. The hoverlimo takes them back to Diamant Island where they return to the Winton Penthouse. Everyone files inside except for Ples who lingers to stare at the cursive M next to the door of the Masterton Penthouse.
Dahlia takes his arm and leans on his shoulder, "Why so glum?"
"I just don't get it."
"Maybe it's not for us to get."
"What do you mean?"
She swings around to face him, staring into those soulful brown eyes.
"Not everyone takes comfort in the group as a whole. Some people need to work out their issues alone."
"I was trying to help her."
"We all were," she says, pushing cloudiness into his mind, softening the rough edges of his suspicion. "Maybe she doesn't want our help right now. And that's okay."
"Is it?"
"Absolutely. She wouldn't want you brooding over her this way. We came here to get away from everything and maybe she just needed to take that a step further."
Or a throw further.
"Demaris would want you to have a good time."
"A good time…" Ples says, dreamily.
She nods, leading him back to the Winton Penthouse.
"Yes. Now go see what everyone is up to. I'll be there in a minute."
Ples moves through the open doorway.
Dahlia glances back at the Masterton Penthouse. Sorry, Dem. This boy serves a better purpose than mooning around after you.
She slinks inside as the door hisses closed behind her.
-TBC
-
Korriban
Adubell had lingered at Hesperidium only long enough to confirm that an attack was made against the young Atrii. She had witnessed the creature lift up Demaris, and throw her away, turning before she ever landed.
Winton had disappointed her. Her instructions were that D'Cera had to do the kill herself and having a henchman perform the act was a cowardice in its own way, one that left Adubell feeling ever more contempt for the prodigal daughter. What's more - that D'Cera did not do the kill herself left Adubell with a sense of foreboding. A sense of incompleteness. But she could not linger, not even a moment longer, and had departed before the sun rose.
Her trip back to Korriban had been spent contemplating where the last of the jedi might be. Nevylinn, her sister, had eluded her, and now Adubell would need to seek her out. Without Nevylinn, even the few youngling jedi that still survived, shepherded somewhere had no guidance, and would be easy pickings. Certainly no one else could stand in the way of the sith ascension.
Here too, at Korriban, homeworld of the sith, that ascension was beginning to take yet another form. In orbit, the former wheel weighed heavy with the planet's soil that had been packed inside. On the surface though was the most dramatic of changes.
Formerly, the Korriban caves had been infamous for their size, depth. But after months and months and months of millions of droids digging and transporting the earth away, the caves had disappeared, opening up to form a deep chasm instead. And at the base, the sith temple, long ago hidden, was now unearthed, walls and columns standing seveal stories tall, vaulted ceiling built to withstand the weight of the mountain above it. A mountain no longer there. Unadorned, on the outside, the temple stood imposingly up from the chasm's floor.
Adubell stood in the searing heat of the midday summer sun, standing over the chasm, looking down on the temple. She could hear the whispers, the call of the sith ancients. No longer insulated by dirt and stone - anyone with force sensitivity who stood near the planet would be able to feel their influence. Feel their strength. The very shadows the long dead lords cast, slithering like snakes over desert sand, and Adubell could feel them, entering her, strengthening her, compelling her forward.
She closed her eyes, channeling out her power, the power of the sith, reaching her tendrils across the galaxy in every direction, feeling for the emotions to make her stronger.
Anger.
Fear.
Aggression.
Hate.
They were everywhere, sometimes explicit, obvious, open hostility. Sometimes simmering beneath the surface. All of them, she fed off of. She channeled those emotions back to her. The raucus passion of a billion sentients flooding to her. She, Adubell, vessel and emissary of the sith. Destined to bring their power forward. To make the chosen one the leader. Adubell, the immortal.
The power was growing within her, her arms raising, spread wide with palms rising up. The energy, black, dark energy coursed through her, mingling with the power of the temple below. Those tendrils of the dark side expanding, growing, plunging to encircle the temple.
Swirls of shadows encompassed the massive sith temple, waves of the dark side, the ground beginning to quake, rumble, fractures in the ground, parts of the chasm collapsing - and the temple itself, rising. The entire massive structure rumbling, dust shaking off as it lifted above the ground.
Adubell's own body began to rise as well, caught in the vortex of power she was funneling. Her body rose parallel to the temple, first slowly, but as the chains of the planet began to fade, they moved faster. black shadows surrounding both Adubell and the temple as they ascended, away from the planet, leaving a massive fissure where the temple had stood, rising like a rocket, higher and higher and higher.
The air was growing thinner, but encased in the dark side - and a machine besides - Adubell felt nothing. They in unison left the world below, floating through space toward the gaping maw that was left open from the modified wheel.
The sith temple slipped inside, Adubell's hovering, prone body right behind, the very heartbeat of the sith, of the dark side coursing through her. The temple found its place, a recessed part of dirt, landing with a heavy thud, the circle of dark energy exploding outward with a burst.
Adubell's body fell flat to the soil. She was breathing heavy, drained utterly from the power spent, but satisfied in a way she had not been before.
There in front of her, the sith temple stood, in the very center of the wheel's structure, directly above the former central axis. Already, droids were moving in to secure the temple's outer fixtures - duracrete that would bind it to the wheel's structure, holding it in place. Where Adubell stood now, more earth from the planet would be brought, and sealed inside. The sith temple, heart of the sith's power, would be buried, inaccessible to most - but influential to all.
Adubell felt the sith lords detach from her, watching their shadows return to the temple.
The darkness had risen. It would not be stopped. it would not be defeated.
TBC
-
Korriban
Adubell was overseeing as the opening to the wheel's interior was being closed. metallic casing and a series of temporary shielding housed the dirt and other relics, keeping it from floating off into space. The Wheel had obtained enough mass that it now had developed its own natural gravity, light enough that the vessel could still be pulled into hyperspace (with difficulty), but strong enough that it could hold things together. Where once there had been a large opening, metal sheeting closed up the last gaps, formally making "The Wheel" into "The Sphere"
The interior was mostly filled with earth. The former structure of the Wheel itself had only four access points that could be reached from the surface. The inside cooridors had been largely left untouched, leaving living quarters for thousands - not to mention storage for an army of battle droids. The 'spokes' of the structure heading inward would arrive at the central promenade, which had been home of the galactic stock exchange until the imperial attack. Many of the computer systems lay intact - but the lower level of the exchange room had been gutted, a new turbolift shaft heading down, coming to a halt outside the old structure and at the foot of the sith temple that was moored in place by tons of duracrete.
Back in the station, the executive suite, above the exchange floor, still housed the control room that allowed control of the wheel's sublight and hyperdrive systems. Both had been retrofitted to respond to the additional mass the structure now carried.
Meanwhile, the exchange itself served in a new capacity - it's enhanced sensors and ability to access markets and networks across the galaxy made it a useful tool for collecting information.
Adubell was sitting in the exchange, watching a dozen monitors as droids crawled on the outside of the sphere, checking each fault line and making sure everything was secure.
Her hands, meanwhile, were typing into a dozen systems. Always searching, looking for the clue.
She came across encrypted messages all the time. Imperial. Republic. government and military liked to think encryptions kept their words secure, from enemies, political opponents, and the public alike. Corporations as well liked to secure prized information in encrypted messages. Most of it appeared as white noise that no one would even notice. They wouldn't even know a communication had happened.
The Corellian Sector, like any other, had vast encryption messages traveling back and forth.
There was one though that caught Adubell's eye. a signal that, like many other encrypted messages, was meant to look hidden. But this one, it was coming from off-world. Another in the Corellian Sector. But a quick follow up showed it had not originated from there. It came from another planet, no, another planet. no another. And it was time-consuming. Whoever had set up these relays was an expert at decoys, and even Adubell with her immense mental and computational abilities, was taxed to track it down. After about a half-hour, the signal vanished, and Adubell, in her curiosity, tried reconstructing the missing legs. The chosen relays were not easily hacked from this far away, but she continued, working at it, slowly. Another decoy. Another relay.
It was hours later when Adubell determined that the source of the signal came from Yag'Dhul, which added its own layer of questioning.
The southern regions of space were lawless, filled with pirate activity, and small groups of planets banding together in hopes of deterring threats. The Southern Protectorate included worlds like Eriadu, which Adubell had successfully used to set up the corporations that now owned much of the former trade federation assets. It also included Yag'Dhul, a small world known for its research before the chaos had spread there.
Why was someone from YagDhul sending an ecrypted message toward Corellia, and why go to all that trouble?
The communication was long gone, but Adubell would be keeping watch. Watching to see if any future signals from the south headed toward Corellia.
And then, she would find out WHY.
TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Summer is winding down and the corporate kids have made quite a splash. The Imperial-Republic talks have everyone in a tizzy with the Holo devolving into screaming matches over motives and intentions. They collectively decide to avoid the news for the remainder of their vacation.
Ignorance is bliss.
For the others anyway.
Dahlia leaves the crew on the beach, needing some time to relax before her last shoot of the season. There would no doubt be a fuss from the Nalaa Grey production team before they wrap so a nap and some Zen time would greatly benefit everyone. She breezes into her room to find Karen posed on the bed staring at a picture on the nightstand. She doesnt jump, having learned to control being startled. Instead, Dahlia sighs lowly.
"You know, stalking isn't really a form of familial bonding."
Karen glances up, "Tough."
"What do you want?"
"Oh, I'm just checking in to see how well you've eased into my old life. Pretty swanky, right? All that money buys a lot of space between you and the average humanoid. Too bad it doesn't buy you a clue."
Dahlia rolls her eyes, "I see we've reached the cryptic warning portion of the conversation. Great talk, Kar. Bye now."
"Adubell is a problem."
She sets her purse on the vanity and turns around.
"What do you know about it?"
"The hideous boo-boo you thought you rid yourself of when you left her bleeding on the floor of a shuttle. How's your nose, by the way?"
"Fine," she says, touching it reflexively.
Karen smirks, rising from the bed.
"I see that's not all she bruised. Kind of difficult to maintain the ego when this unpredictable element is out there, isn't it? The suspense is killing me. What's that crazy girl going to do next? Will she ruin a premiere? Pop up at a parent-teacher function? Or worse, disfigure you as she did herself? We'll see how fast the public flees in terror when she gives you a face no one will ever forget."
"Stop it!"
The smirk is replaced with a smile.
"It's good to know you are growing as a person. Not that I don't understand the allure. Wealth, adoration, influence, the envy of others; I had it all. Until I didn't."
"That's because you failed."
"I suppose that depends on your interpretation of the goal."
"You wanted to become Imperial Empress and take over the galaxy."
Karen shrugs, "A girl can dream."
"That's all it was, a dream. They stopped you. She stopped you."
"Been brushing up on your history? How keen."
"Adubell told me everything. She told me you were weak. You could have had everything but you skipped out with that Valerie knock-off to go find yourself. You destroyed everything our father had worked so hard to build."
"The only thing he was working to build was a better future for himself. A production written by Alexander Winton, directed by Alexander Winton and starring Alexander Winton."
"So he's a megalomaniac. Why didn't you tell me Melanie killed you?"
Karen glances down, brushing crimson hair over her shoulder.
"It wasn't relevant and the only reason Adubell told you was so that you would turn against Rutherford and Celeste."
"She did more than tell me. She showed me. There was photage from the Centerpoint Station. I saw you face Melanie. You lowered your weapon and she murdered you. You let her kill you."
"Melanie did what she had to do."
"And she had to kill you?"
"She bought into our father's lies. The Jedi believed it so completely they never saw that he had been nudging everything into just the right place so that the prophecy would come to pass. It's not really destiny if someone else is pulling the strings. Melanie believed I was evil and that the only way to stop me was by taking my life. But the path I was heading down didn't end with me on the throne. It never did. Our father wanted to live forever and for that the happen we all had to die."
"That's not true."
"Why? Because Adubell says it isn't? Please. She was our father's lover. Of course she wants you to believe he was this great man with great plans for us. He drove Alexia into madness and used me and my friends to further a selfish goal. We fed the monster. The Republic was still scattered and unfocused. He was working the Empire and the Confederation. The combined resources would have easily wiped what was left of them out. And our desperate actions put him in a position to take it all. He just needed us out of the way first. I can just imagine what would have happened if he discovered you had been born right under his nose. You never would have left Naboo."
Karen laughs.
"The best part is, Celeste Masterton saved you. She and Rutherford made sure you would have a chance."
"They lied."
"I can see why you would think they were withholding. But instead of forming your own opinion, you take what this Adubell says and run with it. She fills your head with rage and your heart with hatred. Granted, she kidnapped and tortured you so the groupie bit isn't entirely surprising. She wants you to believe that there is no one you can trust so you cut yourself off from everyone. They are all enemies…except you don't quite believe that. Adubell is not wrong but she's not right either. Friendships can become liabilities; no one knows that better than I do. But they are worth it. They are the only thing that will keep you from going over the edge entirely."
Dahlia's eyes veer toward the picture. Smiling faces of teenagers on the beach below. The same beach her friends are smiling on now.
"If you let her call all the shots and cut people out of your life, does that really help you succeed? She was once dead but now lives which means she wants the same thing our father did. And that can't happen with you traipsing around with your own agenda. Stealing the spotlight keeps the attention away from her nefarious plans but there will come a time when that no longer serves her interests."
Dahlia seethes.
"She wouldn't. I am the Daughter of Darkness."
"So was I. Trust me, sister," Karen says with a sly glare. "You have an expiration date."
The cam pans back slowly, away from Dahlia as Karen's visage disappears, through the open door and into the corridor where Muriel Monroe stands frozen outside the room. She has her back pressed against the wall with breath caught in her throat.
Muriel's wide eyes are full of confusion.
Daughter of what?
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
The Winton Penthouse atop the Bolerathon Tower bustles with the sound of teenagers mobilizing. So much packing on the final day in paradise. As much as it pains them, the Sector Entourage must return to where they came from for their sure-to-be rousing senior year at Valor Prep. She shutters just thinking about it then realizes Gemma, Dane and their friends would be juniors.
Wild.
As Georgie packs the cruiser with their trunks, Dahlia does a sweep around her room with Karen's words reverberating in her head. It's like literally having an angel and devil on her shoulders. Alexia saying one thing and Karen another. A family battle inside her own head. Some may say that makes her crazy but crazy is cool these days and there is certainly enough of both in her family. There is an underlying motive. As much as Dahlia respects what Adubell taught her, she hates her and wants her gone. She would be damned if she was just means to her former Master's end. This is Dahlia's show and she intends to keep it that way. Karen did make a very serious point – the supporting cast is necessary, despite the danger or what Adubell may believe. If lines are drawn only between allies and enemies then she considers them allies of the social arena. Adubell sees them as enemies, hindrances to her ultimate goals, but if what Karen told her is true then she is already corrupted with plans that will one day find her a loose end.
Dahlia tucks the three-bladed lightsaber neatly into her purse, glancing up again at herself in the mirror. She is too young and too beautiful to be marginalized by something so grotesque. Adubell claims immortality but there are fates worse than death.
She would find a way.
Out in the living room, Muriel is staring through the wraparound windows to the glittering ocean far below.
"Are you ready?"
She turns with those soulful eyes wide and clear.
She worries for Dahlia after overhearing such a heated one-sided conversation, the contents of which she sat up nights wondering about. Nothing made sense since she could hear no responses. Visions run strong in their family from what she had read as did what many experts claimed was mental illness. The waters between clever and crazy are murky. Muriel does not come from a place of judgment, given her own problems, but she does not want her best friend to end up like her sisters.
Muriel extends a hand.
"Yeah, let's go."
They walk out together onto the landing pad where the silver and pink cruiser idles under the sun. Everyone takes their seats and straps in as Georgie closes the ramp and ascends into the perfectly clear azure sky. Kier starts a card game with a dazed Ples while Muriel curls up with a book. Trichelle touches up in a compact mirror, glancing over at Dahlia.
"This is going to be a great year. I can feel it."
Dahlia smiles, pushing crimson hair over her shoulder.
"No doubt."
-TBC
-
Undisclosed Location
Adubell had stayed with Dahlia not one night but an entire week. Each evening, when the little princess wanted beauty sleep, Adubell summoned her and they fought. ANd fought. And fought. Dahlia may be powerful, but she was out of practice. She lacked the control. She lacked the DISCIPLINE that she needed. And she didn't even realize it.
It was on the fourth day of their secret meetings that Adubell pointed out a disappointing statistic - in all of their sparring, Dahlia's lightsaber had not shorted out. That meant Dahlia had never successfully struck her with the blade. Sure, Dahlia had managed to toss her around. Even succeeded in smacking her with flying debris. But her saber had never gotten past Adubell's defenses.
"You want to get rid of me? Want me to leave you alone? Strike me with your saber. Don't play with your dark side. Anyone can do tricks. ANyone can make objects float, or crumble. Hit me with your blade, and I'll give you the breathing room you so desperately want"
Dahlia had come at her fiercer than ever. It was clear she was motivated - getting rid of Adubell, who had rained down on her parade - certainly worked wonders for her abilities. Adubell had been put on the defensive more and more, but it was still two more evenings before Dahlia succeeded. A heavy hour of saber battling, when Dahlia knocked Adubell's sword arm wide, then pressing the button to extend her own saber to the fiercer crimson red. Adubell had spun, but not before the blade hit her shoulder - and sputtered out, as it connected with the cortosis.
"There! I did it"
"Good. It took you long enough"
Adubell offered a hideous smile, disengaging her own blade.
"Now leave"
"I will - but first, there is this to say. Anyone can kill someone they hate. It takes the strength of a true sith to kill someone they don't. Don't confuse sentimentality with cunning. Or you will die. Just like Karen did. You also will not be able to realize your full abilities until you take the life of someone who matters to you. Sacrifice is the sith way. Every sith lord has made the sacrifice to obtain their power. You will too, or you will be destroyed"
Adubell turned, beginning to walk away
"Oh, and one more thing - there is a fashion show in one month, scheduled for Chandaar. See that you find yourself in the show. There will be someone there you should meet"
"Who?"
Adubell turned back, just for a moment.
"Your destiny"
**************************
When Adubell returned to her ship, she found a message waiting for her. One of her spies, sent to YagDhul, had found something very, very interesting ...
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface
Fall in Concordia is breathtaking with the leaves turning from gold to amber and scarlet but not everyone is in a festive mood.
Dahlia deters her stewing over Adubell with some casual campaigning. This proves somewhat disturbing. Although most of the students adore them, they also make a great effort to stay out of their way. Just like The Four and their friends. Only this time, there isn't some patsy moron hunk running interference. And it really wasn't just the moron hunk. Not really. There was a dangerous element which is exciting to some but manages to ward off most of the general public. They want to watch it happen but from a safe distance.
Trichelle rules with a gleeful malevolence where as Dahlia is just aloof. She always has been, even before the big Winton reveal. She and Muriel used to float around giving zero fucks without the dynamic yet stereotypical ensemble.
In all honesty, the sessions with Adubell invigorated her. Not like she would ever admit it. She needed the practice and it made her better. Like any mentor, Adubell pushes Dahlia into her darkest potential. Underneath that saber-resistant skin is someone who wants her to succeed. It would almost be sweet if it wasn't so sick. She had to heal all her wounds, usually small burns that were more annoying than painful but healing requires energy and time.
"Anyone can kill someone they hate. It takes the strength of the true Sith to kill someone they don't."
This has an uncomfortable truth.
How many people would have to die in order for Dahlia to get what she wants?
She reflects on this, weeks away from her eighteenth birthday. Those plans are light years in distance within the mind of a popular teenager. The Bon-Fire is this weekend and so she reaches out to Escara Wu while deciding on an outfit to inquire about the upcoming fashion show. As her contract contains stipulations for school, Escara did not consider booking her despite requests from several major labels. Thankfully, this would be over winter break. It's tight but doable. She is ecstatic to hear Dahlia would be on Chandaar and says she will relay the news. Inside twenty minutes, Escara calls with a personal invitation from Nalaa Grey herself to model the newest designs. There is talk of a beaded gown that is sure to be the must-have of the season.
More tantalizing than couture swag is whatever Adubell referred to as her "destiny." That's a pretty broad term and one she is smart enough to realize doesn't involve a designer dress. As self-involved as she is, Dahlia does pay attention. She knows the Empire and Republic had reached a deal that would inevitably lead to an audience on Chandaar. The Holo is ablaze with opinions on the subject and she relishes the turmoil it has already caused. They want an end to the war but consorting with the enemy poses a whole new set of risks.
The week flies by and on the evening of the Bon-Fire; Dahlia chooses a more understated outfit. The vintage, forest green, scoop neck, sleeveless, pleated dress is perfect. Her crimson hair is curled at the ends of loosely pulled back up and off her shoulders. Make-up is light, natural. She pairs the dress with a simple black belt, a beaded black shawl and round-toe black heels. It is a demure look befitting a Homecoming princess and since she is an actual princess that makes her the authority. The move is also a contrast to Trichelle's more severe outfit which makes her look exactly as icy as she is. Perception is everything and Dahlia Winton needs to soften her namesake to ensure the vote.
Valor Prep is bustling as the students and parents take their places. The pyre is set but first they are treated to several skits lampooning life in the Corporate Sector and at the school. It is all in good taste with a spot on impression of their Dean's speech about potential and responsibility. Rutherford and Celeste have a laugh and share hot cider with Iver Aguilar, LeVanya Monroe and Finn Dyre. For a moment they all forget the corporate bloodlust that drives them on Etti IV and enjoy the talents of their children.
The announcement of the Homecoming court gets everyone excited.
There are always five princes and five princesses nominated. And it always breaks down the same – a couple of athletes, the typical popular fare, a legacy or two and the nice guy/girl. It presents the illusion of variety. The court is paired up. Trichelle demanded to be escorted by Kier and Ples is paired with Dahlia. She takes his arm and watches Trichelle strut in front of the crowds with a rousing round of applause. Their names are called next.
"Princess Dahlia Winton and Prince Ples Aguilar."
The reaction is thunderous, deafening. She smiles broadly and waves as they carefully walk past their friends sitting in the front row. Gemma and Muriel are clapping enthusiastically while Dane's hand casually slips into Alka's, Roman sits dangerously close to Preston and Demaris looks crestfallen. Seeing them all together in support of her makes her realize she does care for them. Even Trichelle who glares at her as Dahlia and Ples takes their places beside them. Accordingly to Adubell, this is not the way of the Sith. Sacrifice is. Yet as a teenage girl, Dahlia likes being liked.
After all, what good is a ruler without any subjects?
Dahlia maintains her smile as the remainder of the court is called and assembles around the pyre. The rest of the Chin-Bret team and cheerleaders join them followed by the students and parents. The Dean says a few words wishing the team to victory and lights the pyre. The flames spread quickly and soon they are leaping high into the crisp night air. There are murmurs and more applause. The team chants and hollers as the cheerleaders execute a routine.
The orange glow of the flames, tinted with blue reminds her of sphere Adubell showed her - the heart of the galaxy. Their gorgeous faces are backlit and shadowed. Demaris glances over at Dahlia with her hands wrapped tightly around the arm of Ples' letterman jacket and feels a twinge of anger. From a distance, Tobias watches them revel in the shallow celebration, darkly pondering how they can think they are so much better than everyone else. The flames crackle and whisper with embers twirling up into the sky. It signifies a cleansing and rebirth. Those baptized by the fire often return more powerful than ever before but they must lose everything first. Dahlia is not sure she is ready to give up what she has acquired and wonders how long she has until Adubell returns to take it from her.
-TBC
-
Korriban: Deep Space
"Mistress Adubell, the final checkout is completed. The Wheel is ready"
Adubell turned to face the minion bowed near her feet. The Voss Ra were not quite as capable as the infiltrator droids, but at the moment, none were at her disposal. At least two were destroyed - one at Yag'Dhul, in a method Adubell could not explain, but apparently, because it had failed to realize the professor was still alive, and he attacked her with some weapon before dying himself. A loose end to mop up. A second infiltrator was killed in the failed attack on the Patten ranch. Another from that attack - the one sent to impersonate Mara - was unaccounted for, though Adubell didn't see her among the destroyed. At least, not before she herself was killed.
Ah, death. Adubell had now died twice. Killed once by that brat Winton, and once by the traitor infiltrator. Each resurrection left her with memories of her own death, harsh pain, and then the euphoria of rebirth, immortality, waking in a place lightyears away, brand new, and brimming with strength. It was exhilarating.
Her attention turned back to the slave.
"Order all systems go. Set the coordinates and activate systems"
"Yes, Lady Adubell"
The Voss Ra scrambled away to do his bidding, Adubell rising from her seat to the nearest console, where she could review the progress. This chamber had once been part of the executive suite of the wheel, where the viceroy and administrators had resided. An exclusive turbolift could transport them to the center of the wheel, where the Federation stock exchange once stood. The windows once looked out on the space over the Besh Gorgan system. Now, outside the windows was dirt, sand, rock. The vast amount of the Wheel was buried beneath the huge quantities of dirt brought from the surface of Korriban, all save for the outer shell that had been created. The internal structure of the wheel also included a new lift, leading from the primary structure to the sith temple, also buried in the mass.
Since the completion of the transfer of soil from the planet, the Voss Ra, along with literally millions of construction droids, had been working to adapt the Wheel's systems to the new mass it carried. The hyperdrive had been designed for a basically hollow sphere. The upgrades that had been going on for the past months meant the entire station could in fact, travel through hyperspace. In that time, the Wheel - no longer a wheel at all, but a sphere, made of orange dirt and metal casings - had been towed away from the planet, to deep space.
No tests could be done on the hyperdrive. If it worked, the station would be sent to its final resting place. If it failed, the station would rip apart the moment it entered hyperspace. Failure was not an option, and Adubell had made the abundantly clear.
She watched as the timer lit up. Two minutes until hyperdrive activation.
Each portion of the Sphere checked in. Structural integrity checks. engine checks. deflector-field checks.
As the timer reached zero, she could feel the station begin to shudder, Adubell licking her gray lips with anticipation. The shuddering grew stronger, and a loud whine could be heard across the entire station. Then a massive jolt.
Then just as quickly, the sounds dulled to a soft hum and everything seemed smooth. The internal comm system crackled.
"Lady Adubell - we have successfully made the jump to hyperspace"
"Excellent"
Adubell returned to her seat, rotating the chair to face the monitor she had been watching.
There in front of her, was the battle of Patten Ranch, as seen from her eyes.
The fight against Gemma Masterton, armed and battling as a jedi. Then against her sister. Then against the traitor.
Adubell watched the footage, over and over again. A machine could learn from their mistakes, and be made better, stronger, smarter. Each time she watched, she learned something more about the fighting techniques of the three opponents.
Humans were so unoriginal. Next time, the fight would not go so well for them.
TBC
-
(((My years may be off. Dahlia is now 17 years old - a senior in HS. That makes it 13 years after the Battle of Centerpoint. Between the destruction of Coruscant and the Battle of Centerpoint, we have two Phage attacks, and the Valerie Gellar governorship of Corellia (among other events). 19 years made sense in my head, but it might be 17 or 16 years)))
19 years ago ...
Hesperidium
The luscious resort moon revolved around the political center of the galaxy, Coruscant and itself was one of the most desired vacation locations to be found. By some trick of the cosmos, the atmosphere retained almost all of the heat from the Coruscanti sun, allowing the moon to maintain warm temperatures year round, despite its distance and size. In the tropical regions, there are a series of islands widely considered the gem of the moon. They are the reason people come here to let their troubles melt away. The largest island is called Iobatese which houses the central spaceport and government facilities. The west beach on Iobatese is where the entertainment district is located, full of restaurants and nightclubs such as the Bistro Bibliotheca and famous Club Hex. While there are residences on Iobatese it is the smaller islands that are the biggest draw. Stunning azure panoramic and white sand beaches, only the most affluent could even dream of owning a piece.
Emperor Palpatine had had a residence here, for all those times he just wanted to a vacation from being diabolically evil.
Perhaps the most stunning thing about the resort moon though was the view looking up. amidst the faded backdrop of the galaxy of stars, one bright gem glowed brightly, the nearby planet of Coruscant. From the surface of Hesperidium, it could be seen looking about the size of a quarter in the sky, and Coruscant sparkled with endless activity of a world-wide city that never slept.
The residents and visitors of Hesperidium were relaxing in the evening light, when they felt a massive tremor, an earthquake that rocked the entire moon - but what they felt was not coming from below. Those outside fell to the ground as if a great concussive wind pressed down on them. They could hear the noise growing louder - and then a loud flash. Staring up, the sky was lit. Where Coruscant had been, a ball of fire, first expanding outward,and then after flames licking, reaching,, they suddenly turned in on themselves, the ball of fire being sucked into a darkness. That jewel in the sky had disappeared. In its stead, the sky filled with lightning, massive ionic storms, and what looked like from the surface a pool of dust. Those on the moon stared up, frightened. What had happened to Coruscant, the center of the galaxy?
Today ...
Hesperidium had, by some luck, managed to maintain its orbit around the Coruscanti sun after it no longer had a planet to orbit. It's climate had remained stable, warm and tropical, and within a few months of the destruction of Coruscant, the moon was again a tourist location. A safe distance, they could watch the ion storms, without realizing what the Coruscant Asteroid Field often hid in its midst. Monsters and machines. Even if they saw twinkles of change, no one realized what it was.
But tonight, it was not just a mere twinkle. As tourists and locals stared up at the night sky, watching and admiring the lightning, there was a sudden flash, and then standing amidst the storms, was a round sphere. It was smaller than Coruscant had been - maybe 1/5 the size - and instead of the silvery gleam that Coruscant offered, this one gave off a rusty orange-copper shade, with small, barely visible lines of grayish metal. The ball had appeared as if out of nowhere, now situated in the very center of the storms. People watched in amazement as the lightning seemed to gravitate toward the ball.
Like most on Hesperidium, unless it interfered with their ability to relax, it didn't bother them, and after watching the spectacle, they grew bored and returned to their homes and beds. When they woke in the morning, the sphere was gone - and so was the lightning.
Coruscant Asteroid Field
With a shudder that threatened to rip the station in two, the Sphere pummeled out of hyperspace near the edge of the Coruscant Asteroid Field.
A Voss Ra appeared at Adubell's door.
"Mistress Adubell - the hyperdrive has been disabled from the journey. We will not be able to make another jump without extensive repair"
Fair enough - the Sphere carried too much mass, most machinery couldn't take it. The hyperdrive systems had done what they needed to do. They got the sphere to the Coruscant System.
"Activate the sublight engines, and begin moving to the final coordinates."
The Sphere began moving forward, slowly, carefully. As it did, asteroids began to strike it, hitting the surface, denting in various places the metal or the dirt surface-structure. Small craters appeared, but Adubell didn't care.
The lightning too was ignored. Attracted to the metal frame, jagged streak after streak struck the Sphere as it moved, occasionally triggering a malfunction of some system or another, and yet the station moved on.
It was a few hours later the next report came in, telling Adubell that the Sphere had reached it's location, the very heart of the asteroid field, where the planet Coruscant had once stood.
"Set the station on a standard planetary rotation"
The forward thrusters were deactivated, and instead, a new set of thrusters were ignited. Ever so slowly, the sphere began to turn, Adubell watching, monitoring the speed and trajectory. The computer was compensating for gravity from the sun and nearby moons, and various debris. Within a few hours, everyone on the station was feeling the centrifical forces, and artificial gravity was slowly being powered down.
Adubell stalked out of the executive chamber, making her way to the turbolift that led to the surface. She was alone at this moment, her minions had orders, and one was to not be disturbed. As the turbolift doors opened into the Sphere's surface, she could hear the hiss of the depressurization. If she had still been human, she would have died instantly. As it was, her hybrid body could only stand the exterior for so long before she would end up needing yet another replacement.
No matter. Her task would be finished in time.
Adubell's arms lifted, wide over her head, bending her neck downward, closing her eyes.
She thought to the battle, the fight with the young Masterton jedi, her sister, the traitor Infiltrator droid. Focused on the hate that she had for all three. Focused on the pleasure she felt as she killed the jedi, one by one. In the pit of her stomach, she could feel it growing, the power. It began to radiate from the ground - the sith-infused earth of Korriban, up her legs, into her torso, pooling around her. She lifted her head, eyes opened wide, black pools of darkness. Electricity crackled at her fingertips. The strength of the sith temple, buried below, channeling through her, as it had before. She was their vessel,their conduit. Her hatred, her anger, her passion allowed them to use her as they needed. Lightning extended from her fingers into the asteroid field that surrounded her.
Streaks of ioninc energy that seemed to move about at random catapulted toward her. She didn't flinch as the first streak of lightning diverted downward, connecting with the blue fizzles at her fingertips. joining with her. One. Then another. Then another. The lightning didn't disappear - it extended from her fingers, stronger, further, wider. She could feel their searing heat, their deadly power, attach to her. One streak then another. The very energy spreading over hear head. Until it was all there, all concentrated above her. Pulsing, wanting to escape, to destroy whatever it touched. The energy swirled above her, between her two open hands - then began to spread, like a wave, out in all directions, over the entire surface of the Sphere. The ion energy had been laced with the one who caused it - the Dark Queen, when Coruscant was destroyed, and now it danced and flirted with the sith power that it had connected to, it's color darkening from a bright blue to a midnight black, until the entire surface of the sphere was hidden behind a ball of dark energy.
Only then did Adubell's hands fall, her body collapsing to the earth beneath her. She managed to roll onto her back, looking up at the barely visible sphere that encompassed the station. The blackness in her eyes receded, and suddenly, she gasped, as she took a breath of air.
in her weakened state, she whispered.
"Welcome back ... Coruscant ..."
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface
Princess Dahlia gives herself an over the shoulder glance in the floor-length mirror of her bedroom. The outfit is stunning – a long dark green beaded dress, black heels, chandelier earrings, and a jeweled necklace given to her by the designers at Carteris. Her crimson hair is flat-ironed straight and spills off her pale shoulders with charcoal, black and emerald accents around her eyes.
"What do you think?"
Georgie grunts something but it sounds positive so she smiles. His thoughts are as clear as day and not quite as reassuring.
Gemma knows.
"Knows what exactly?"
Our true form. She saw through us on Corellia. She sees through me now.
"She has many talents apparently. If your cover is blown, you are screwed."
And you?
"I am too self-involved to know what's happening. At least that's what they will believe. You could have been sent here to impersonate my security agent in order to keep tabs on us while I was none the wiser."
She will never believe that. Gemma is a Jedi. The council has confirmed it.
"Yes," Dahlia says lowly. "I know. I saw. It's a problem, for sure, one that has to be dealt with discreetly. I can't move against her but that isn't to say she can't meet an unfortunate accident…like, say, an overdose. We are going to a party co-hosted by a notorious drug-dealer. The pressures of celebrity are numerous and substance abuse provides an escape. Perhaps Gemma indulges a little too much and becomes a tragic statistic, another star that flew too close to a sun."
She stops herself, realizing she is casually plotting Gemma's murder. It's surprising how easily it came to her. As angry as she is about the things she saw in the photage that revealed the extent of Gemma's lies, she hesitates in taking too drastic an action. Offing her sister would have significant implications and possibly disastrous consequences.
This is why Adubell thinks Dahlia is weak, that she is unwilling to make the difficult choices in order to advance their plans. Dahlia thinks the most severe course of action isn't always the best, especially when utilizing the knowledge she has can manipulate the game in her favor. Both Gemma and Dane could be valuable to her if handled appropriately. So far, Dane has proved pliable with the right direction.
Why can't Gemma?
"Scratch that. Find out what she knows tonight. If she discovers you then I guess you are off the team. She must be convinced I am oblivious to the danger you represent. Is that clear?"
He nods.
Dane pounds on her door, jarring her out of the moment.
"Are we going or what?"
Annoyed, she joins him in the hall.
He makes a face.
"This is an anti-party party. We're supposed to be rebelling against type."
She takes note of his tight, ripped black pants, boots and a plain black t-shirt. His hair is heavily gelled and slicked back.
"Are we?"
"That's what the invitation said."
"So you can read, great. Is that eyeliner?"
He reflexively touches his face, "Alka said it was cool."
"It does make a statement."
"Then why do you look like you're going to a premiere?"
She sighs wearily, "I'm rebelling…against surrendering wardrobe autonomy to those who clearly know nothing about style."
"This party is a rebellion. You can't rebel against the rebels."
They walk toward the stairs.
"Says who?"
Gemma is waiting in the foyer wearing a black romper with a silver belt and knee-high boots. Her blonde hair is blown out in a mass of curls and her make-up is darker and more menacing.
She also makes a face, "Dahlia, that outfit really doesn't-"
"Save it," she says, waving a hand through the air. "I'm not buying into the hype. I mean, how anti-establishment can Muriel really be?"
Cut to the Monroe Estate with blood red perimeter lighting and security agents posted on either side of the door wearing metal masks. There are strobes, blaring music and decals of the CSA with a slash of red spray-paint across it. Everyone looks like they stepped out of an industrial music video.
Dahlia, Dane and Gemma stand in front of the mansion staring.
Dane smirks, "Told you."
No doubt Tobias' influence helped create the look but Dahlia is surprised Muriel went along with it. This is their sheltered lives of polite parties and debutante balls twisted into an anarchist's nightmare. If their parents saw this they would freak out but that is highly unlikely.
Inside, the place is set for what looks like a gothic feast with black drapery and enough candles to take it all down in blaze of glory. The lengths some of the students went to with their costumes are actually fairly impressive. Some even don the blank mask of The Concealed, others prefer feathers and abstract makeup. A girl on the diving board by the pool wears a bikini, a black mask and a headdress as she sway's with a bottle in her hand. Give these uptight, spoiled kids a measure of expression and watch the sparks fly.
Demaris is in heaven. Finally, people who are speaking her language. She's always been the alternative girl, the one with the style a little too edgy for the proper Valor Prep. Now it seems others have some spunk in them as well.
Ples is shirtless with black leather pants and a white eye-mask. Kier looks like an old sentry with a chest plate and sandals. Alka poured herself into a burgundy, skin tight suit with a bulky, embellished belt. Trichelle begrudgingly got into the spirit and went for a daring black dress with a hooded red cape. Preston's face is speckled in glitter with wings attached to his back. Roman is wearing gray coveralls with a utility sash.
Muriel emerges from the house on the arm of Tobias. There is thunderous applause and shouting from the revelers. The hosts bow and curtsy theatrically. Muriel dons a black corset, hot pants a spiked ankle boots. Her purple eye-mask and slicked back hair complete the look. Tobias looks like he starred in a slasher flick, black linen shirt open with splatters of red dye streaking his chest, neck and face.
Dahlia, Dane and Gemma join their clique by the pool.
Trichelle looks Dahlia over and says, "Why didn't you dress the part?"
"I'm not really a joiner."
In her peripheral, she spots Quentin in a black cloak flirting with the girl in the headdress. She has followed her suspicions to a source closer to home which brought damning confirmation. Quentin whispers something in her ear and they walk back into the mansion together. She rolls her eyes up. What a man-whore. Promiscuity may be a badge of honor to some but to Dahlia, it was a repugnant lack of self-control. Besides, sleeping with a bunch of neurotic, emotionally damaged fellow students is not her idea of a good time.
"Really?" Trichelle laughs. "Since when?"
"Since I plan on using this lapse in judgment against you in my campaign for Prom Queen."
She leans forward, trying to hear over the music.
"What?"
"Nothing, daling! My mistake."
Trichelle waves over at a few others across the pool while Gemma and Demaris dance with Kier and Ples. Alka rubs a finger down Dane's chest as he looks around, confused.
"Where's Roman?"
Preston is also gone.
Again.
Dahlia groans, walking away.
"Get a clue, Dane."
She reenters the house and grabs a drink, wandering through the throngs of people grinding all over each other. She reaches out through the Force to follow Quentin and comes to the door of a guest bedroom. Without hesitating, she taps the controls and brazenly strides inside.
Quentin is sitting on the edge of the bed with the girl standing between his legs. Her bikini top is pulled down and she turns as though this is only a minor inconvenience. However, her face changes when she sees who it is.
Dahlia levels her gaze, "Get out."
The girl pulls up the top and disappears out into the hall. Quentin leans back on the bed, amused.
"Change your mind?"
"Hardly," she says. "But we do need to talk."
"I'm more a man of action."
"I see."
She turns to reach for the door controls, locking them inside. This causes him to widen his smile.
"Then I shall act."
Her eyes go dark, pooling into pure blackness as he is suddenly pulled from the bed and thrown against the far wall. Immobilized and stunned, he tries to struggle to no avail. She moves slowly, purposefully toward him as alarm begins to register on his face.
"Wha...what are you doing?"
"You strike me as the kind of boy who likes it rough, someone who isn't afraid of taking risks. You took a considerable one showing up here with your outlandish story that was just the right amount of crazy for these kids to believe. Controlling family, a big-name Sector brand, incredible wealth, a bold bravado bordering on the delusional; you fit right in here."
The fear in his eyes would convince her if she wasn't so good at seeing through the façade. It is a manufactured reaction, one cultivated through careful training. For all intents and purposes, Quentin Swire appears like a real boy when in reality he is so much more than that.
"You're insane!"
"Am I?"
"You are just proving all the rumors about your family! All this time you were hiding your powers from everybody. You are dangerous!"
"So true," she says. "Except I'm not the only one hiding in plain sight."
"I don't know what you are talking about but you bet your sweet ass I am going to march downstairs and let all your friends know just what kind of girl you really are."
She presses on him more firmly with the Force, flattening him against the wall. With slightly more pressure she could crack his ribs but rides the fine line of pain.
He gasps loudly.
"You know damn well I could make you forget this whole thing ever happened. I could make you do anything I wished and you would be powerless to stop me."
"How could I possibly know that?"
"Because you are an Imperial plant."
The surprise on his face is priceless but well-rehearsed.
"What?"
"All those trips back and forth to Etti IV, come on."
"My uncle-"
"Ah, your uncle. That's the kicker. The real tell to your story. See, I was only mildly suspicious when I saw you coming out of Vex Sienna's apartment tower. Even more so when you rushed off the night of Kylie Miranda's disappearance. But it wasn't until I poked around a bit that I discovered the truth."
"Bullshit."
"I know, right? You were so careful. Your back story and past so seamlessly overlaid against the Sector databases but there was one piece of data you couldn't control, one that wasn't in any computer. You claim to be the son of Fediir Swire's brother, Osa who was killed in a fire in the Swire Textile factory fifteen years ago. His wife was devastated and sought grief counseling…from Celeste Masterton. You would think the effect of her husband's tragic death on her three year old son would have come up but nowhere in her case notes is there any mention of a child. In fact, there was discussion of the relief felt that this was not inflicted on any offspring. So you, Quentin Swire, are a bit of a mystery despite the official files having been ret-conned to include your lineage. You may be a Swire but you are not a Corporate heir. This piece of information would be more than just a little troubling to our peers who care so much about titles and legacies, don't you think?"
Quentin's smile returns.
"You are as clever and conniving as they said. The Emperor will be pleased."
Dahlia sighs, releasing him.
"Why the charade? You should have come to me."
"That wasn't the plan," he says, retaining his composure. "I was to dangle just enough suspicion in front of you to see if you'd bite. No one was entirely convinced you could see beyond your own reflection and investigate but once again, you have proved us wrong."
"Schrag should really stop doubting me."
Quentin becomes stern.
"The Emperor is a great man."
"I never said he wasn't. So, what's the play? Why are you really here?"
"Officially, to act as your contact within the Empire and assist as needed."
"You mean, to spy on me and report back? He doesn't trust me."
"He doesn't trust any Winton."
"I have more than proved myself."
"That doesn't put you above suspicion. You are an incalculable variable and need to be monitored to ensure you are not veering too far off-script, as it were. We can't have the Empire's plans spoiled now that we've made so many inroads with the Republic. Soon they will need us to defend them and our partnership will be solidified while the liaison ingratiates himself to the public at large, thanks in no small part to your tutelage."
"Barrett."
"That's right. It's good to know you care for him as much as he does for you."
"You know each other?"
"We were friends at the Academy."
"Friends?" Dahlia says. "I wasn't sure he knew how to make those."
"It was difficult but we forged a bond."
"Does he know you are here?"
"We are only told what we need to know. His feelings for you may have compromised his position in the Republic so we let him focus on that. He needs to be part of the discussion, a true influencer of policy."
"By now Speaker Leeds will be saturated with dark energy. He should not have many issues convincing him of what needs to be done."
"His cabinet and the Senate poses an obstacle which will require Barrett's unique brand of tactical savvy. They will be swayed by his prowess and appearance of protecting them. After you graduate, we expect your presence will continue to raise his profile."
"You want me to move to Chandaar?"
Quentin rubs his sore chest and neck.
"We realize we can't exactly force you to do anything. However, we were going to arrange for your acceptance to the University of Ambaril but your grades got you in easily. Turns out, you are not just a pretty face."
"Being smart is hot."
"So it seems."
"What now?"
"We become friends," Quentin says. "Maintain the integrity of the group. I will update you as information becomes available so you can carry on the with the good girl act."
"Who says it's an act?"
"Please. We all know you are evil, princess. You don't have to pretend with me."
He extends a hand.
"Allies?"
Dahlia's eyes return to their emerald shade as she shakes it.
"Allies."
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
Dahlia breaks the surface of the warm, clear waters and gazes up at the monolith that is the Bolerathon Tower. She wanders out of the water and back toward the two chaise lounges parked beneath a large, tan umbrella. Muriel stretches out in a colorful bikini and adjusts her oversized heart sunglasses.
"This was the best idea."
"Right?" Dahlia says, drying off and falling into the empty chaise beside her. "I really needed to get out of there."
"I don't blame you. It's a lot to work through."
"I'm passed the worst of the emotional fallout, moved swiftly through the stages to land squarely in a washed out acceptance. I'm not sure if that's a sign of emotional maturity or a desperate need to feel normal again."
"Sounds clinical."
"My adoptive mother was a therapist so I'm well versed in the complicated mess of loss and grief."
"You know," Muriel says, sitting up. "Biology doesn't always play into what makes a family. You guys are more my family than my mother is. I don't even know if she realizes I graduated or that I'm not in The Sector. I could have been murdered and she wouldn't know until she saw it on the Holo."
"Not true, one of those pesky security agents would call her first."
"I'm serious, Dahl. Celeste and Rutherford loved you. I would give anything to know what that feels like."
Dahlia slips on giant, round sunglasses and pulls her hair back into a pony tail.
"LeVanya loves you, Mur. She just really sucks at showing it."
"Do you ever think about them?"
"My real parents?" Dahlia says, flashing back to all the lurid things Adubell told her. "Sometimes, more so here I guess. There is a picture of them upstairs. Karen kept it tucked in the vanity mirror. Even though she apparently seldom saw them, they were in her thoughts. All I know is the stories of them and even those aren't what they were really like. And the most upsetting thing is that the one person who actually knew them is dead."
"Didn't you talk about them?"
"I never thought to ask – like it was inappropriate or taboo. Sure, once I found out about who I was they filled in the wonderful pieces of how my mother gave me to Celeste Masterton for protection. What she didn't tell me is that my father most likely killed her just like he did Celeste's first husband. That I could sense from her, like she was holding back."
She realizes now this was to shield her from the more unpleasant details of her parent's seemingly tumultuous marriage. Adubell wanted nothing more than to paint Rutherford and Celeste as twisted, self-serving liars. And in some senses that may be true but they weren't evil. Not in the ways her family is. The Winton darkness goes much, much deeper.
"We should not spend our holiday moping about when there are cocktails to be made."
"Maker Almighty, yaasss."
As they pack up and leave, Dahlia stares up into the cloudless, blue sky, unable to shake a certain feeling.
Upstairs, in the Winton Penthouse, Muriel lights a joint as Dahlia orders drinks from the service droid. They dance, watch vids on the Holo, nap, order dinner and make more cocktails. Not a bad way to spend a day or weeks, depending on who is keeping track.
There is a message from Barrett they replay over and over. He sounds so awkward when he's not talking about defenses and tactical advantages but it's undeniably sweet. Their courtship has been a slow burn, and that suits her just fine. Everyone around her in The Sector was so busy letting their hormones drive them wild while she thought silly things about a boy she met in the Republic. Come Fall, she would be on Chandaar and they would be spending much more time together.
Muriel squints at her through the haze, "What's going through that mind of yours?"
A sobering truth.
"I've never had a serious relationship."
"So?"
"So, what am I supposed to do? We're high profile and the worlds will be watching. Popping in to dazzle for certain events with my little outfits and zippy innuendos is one thing but I always had the luxury of distance. What if I'm the disaster girlfriend?"
"How is that even possible?"
"For starters, I'm an uptight virgin with romantic ideals. He's this hot, broody, strategic genius who makes me feel like I'm not in control when we kiss. I don't see how this could not end badly."
"You can go slowly, it's not a race."
"Then why does it feel like I'm still in last place in the boy department? Trichelle has Kier, Demaris has Ples, Dane has Alka, Gemma has that spacey Patten kid and you have Tobias. How did I graduate high school without dating a single boy?"
"You dated Ples for, like, five microseconds."
"That doesn't count. I just posted up on his arm at parties. There was nothing there."
"You could practice on Quentin. He always seems available."
Dahlia gags, waving her away, "Siiiiick."
"Well, you have a modeling career and millions of credits."
"You can't take credits to bed."
"You can," Muriel says, sticking her tongue out. "But it's filthy."
They collapse into giggles then Muriel pads off to find more champagne. Dahlia picks up her glass by the stem and sways through the residence and out onto the patio. The sky is dark and littered with stars and the cool air feels wonderful after a sun-kissed day. She finds herself glancing up once again, the tug of an urge just beneath the surface.
Muriel appears holding an open bottle, "What's up?"
"I dunno," Dahlia whispers. "There's something…there."
-TBC
-
"All your moves that make me wanna run away
But I got stuck with faulty legs
I believe it's true that you would screw me
If I let you in my bedroom
And if I did then do I try to move away?
Cause I know you like mind games."
-Banks
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Everything is a fantastical blur of fun.
Dahlia and Muriel really reconnect after everything they had been through over the years. The connection deepens in their time together even though they both know it cannot last forever. They have different plans for their lives but they use this time to reaffirm a friendship that had drifted.
Dahlia had greatly considered what Adubell told her – allies or enemies, there is no in between. This was tempered by her vision of Karen who acknowledged the potential liability but stated it was worth the risk. She doesn't believe everything can be broken down that way. Compartmentalization isn't healthy; Celeste taught her that. Some things need to flow from one area of your life to another. As long as there are boundaries and communication there wasn't a need for drastic action. True, Dahlia had wiped Muriel's suspicion and she justified that by telling herself it granted her friend freedom from unnecessary worry.
After a morning of pastries and elaborately concocted coffine creations, the penthouse com buzzes loudly. It startles them because they had been essentially undisturbed for weeks. Dahlia pads to the consol near the door and activates the cam.
"Hey, it's Tobias."
Dahlia turns over her shoulder, "It's your ill-conceived boyfriend."
"Tobi!!" Muriel squeals.
"Did you invite him to crash our party?"
"Of course not but he probably got bored. You know how it is on D'ian in the summer. There is only so much Viiperi Lake drama someone can stand. I can ask him to leave if he's not welcome."
"No," Dahlia says. "It's okay. Just because I'm not getting laid doesn't mean you have to spend a celibate summer with me."
She taps the controls, "Hi, Tobs. You lost?"
"Just cruising around. Can I come up? Your floor is apparently locked down harder than the mines of Kessel."
"That's the idea," Dahlia hisses, buzzing him into the lobby. "You can't access it from the ground level. Go to the top floor then all the way around the hall. I'll meet you there."
She slips into a pair of platform sandals and heads out the door. The penthouse floor is beautifully silent with only two residences and private access. Long ago, when Celeste Masterton inherited the tower, she sealed this floor behind a secret lift. Once Tobias rounds the hall on the floor below, he will come to a flat white wall that appears to be nothing until it parts in the center to reveal the lift doors. Dahlia is standing inside with her arms crossed when these doors open – except Tobias is not alone.
"What's up?" Quentin Swire says. "Didn't think you'd mind if I tagged along."
She conceals her surprise flawlessly and smiles.
"What part of 'girl's holiday' did either of you not understand?"
"Come on, Dahl. We couldn't stand it anymore, all the idle chatter and finger sandwiches."
"You want us to endure an afternoon of tea with Trichelle?"
She steps aside to let them enter.
"You poor things at the pinnacle of suffering."
They step out onto the penthouse floor with all the polished white stone and tactfully placed greenery. The long corridor extends to where two doors sit across from each other beyond which opens up into a spectacular panoramic sitting area.
"Not bad," Quentin says, looking around. "For a dowry."
She sighs as trio enters the Winton Penthouse. Muriel flies out of nowhere to grapple with Tobias. They make out fiercely, staggering away down the hall. Dahlia continues out into the living room where she picks up her drink from the table.
"I'm not nearly caffeinated enough for you."
There are giggles from the hall, the sound of a door hissing open then closing again. He smirks and looks her over.
"Where's my welcome kiss?"
She eases gracefully down onto a couch and crosses her legs.
"That would imply I was happy to see you. Also, gross."
"Come now, princess. I thought we were friends."
"On paper perhaps. In reality, we have mutual interests that require toleration and occasional conversation. I didn't think they would send you to check up on me."
"Who says they did?"
She sets her drink back on the table.
"Not stupid, remember? You knew my location and the duration of my stay so I'm curious as to why you thought showing up here was a good idea. It's not like my presence here is private, especially after what happened. People will talk."
"Let them," Quentin says. "That's most of the reason you are useful. You get people saying the things we want them to say. In this case, two friends joined you on your holiday for the last hoorah before higher education. I'll look for you on the quad."
Her eyes flare and she stands suddenly.
"What? Don't tell me they added you to the student body at UCA."
"Save me a seat in class."
She groans and moves through the living room and out onto the wraparound patio. The sun is just burning off the last of the marine layer, revealing a tantalizing palette of blue and green. Quentin follows slowly and takes it all in. She shoves him out of this moment of peace.
"I do not appreciate being monitored so closely. It's not like I've deviated from anyone's agenda. Schrag really needs a social life."
"The Emperor is concerned," he corrects her. "He wants…assurances."
"Of course he does."
"Your emotional state raises questions."
Dahlia's mouth falls open.
"Wait, I lost only parents I ever knew and I'm not even allowed to feel bad about it because it might jeopardize my loyalties? One has nothing to do with the other."
"We disagree."
"So disagree," she snaps.
"Your outrage is so hot."
"Don't make me break your face. I'm entitled to a little downtime."
Quentin cocks his head, "Entitlement seems to be your motive. Who can really blame you given where you came from? Sorry about your parents, by the way, but it's not like you didn't profit from losing them. All that money, you deserve the best. However, we prefer you don't fancy yourself entitled to an exemption from oversight."
"You're an asshole and I don't work for you."
"No, not directly but our mutual interests require certain performance markers. These are things that could be easily missed without the proper motivation. We don't want anyone or anything holding you back. You aren't the first Winton girl who got sidetracked by a series of circumstances. We need you to remain focused."
"I'm not losing sight of anything," Dahlia says. "I took this time to gather myself so I don't rush into the Republic emotionally compromised. I know what's expected of me once I arrive, the role I have to play."
"Oh good, I'm glad you remember you have one."
"Don't patronize me, Agent Swire. I'm not my sisters."
Quentin moves closer to her, placing both hands on the railing.
"Maybe not but that's a pretty low bar."
"Can you get to the point so I can get back to tolerating you?"
"You talk tough for a spoiled brat but the true extent of your power has yet to be seen. How far are you really willing to go?"
"You want a demonstration?"
"In some form or another."
Dahlia scoffs, "I'm not some minion you order around. I have risked much to get us here and at the very least you can show a little respect to the eventuality I represent for us."
"Respect is earned, your Highness. You've run some public relations, a few errands. Fluff. We need to know you are ready to take it to the next level and that your grief isn't clouding your perspective on our goals."
"It's not."
He smiles and stares into the distance.
"We'll see."
-TBC
-
"We are gonna see greater heights
They’ll put our names up in neon lights
Rolling volcanoes in the night
Glowing in the dark like meteorites"
-Lights
Hesperidium
A premiere night on West Iobatese Beach: shopping at the boutiques, dinner at Bistro Biblioteca, dancing at Club Hex.
Dahlia is pissed the Emperor dispatched the douche-savant Quentin Swire to hover obnoxiously after suffering such a devastating loss in her personal life. It reeks of paranoia and begs the question of whether or not Schrag actually trusts her. She feels like she's played all her cards right and skated past the scandals that so oft plagued her sister. From a public standpoint, Dahlia is downright upstanding and this inquisition needs to be stopped immediately. She is not going to have every meter of her social life monitored for progress. She doesn't do tricks for the Empire's flunkies.
Quentin brings her a glass of champagne and shrugs it off when she refuses to dance with him. Muriel is thrashing her hips against a mostly wasted Tobias and she wonders if that's the kind of thing Barrett would be down for. Sure, she's indulged a bit in the party department but by no means is she a skiff-wreck. Her tightly composed if not mildly condescending persona keeps everything in careful check. People are expecting her to lose her shit and it's difficult to be seen as a sympathetic character the public roots for when you are stumbling all over puking into the gutter.
Is it so much to want a little chivalry and romance in the modern age?
She sips the champagne and pushes Quentin off the edge of the slick bench they are sitting on. He leans on his arm.
"You know, you aren't really selling the whole friendly vibe."
"It was a friendly gesture."
"While I'm down here…"
Her head is held high, glaring down.
"Is that all you think about?"
"What else is there?"
"So many things that tiny brain of yours can't process but you are missing out. If you spent less time being a sleaze, you might actually enjoy yourself."
"Says the uptight redhead."
"You do realize that my poised exterior is what opens doors for us, right? If you want people saying the right things you must provide the proper influence. I'm having the appropriate amount of fun for someone my age."
Quentin smirks, "How would you know?"
"I read up on it."
"Well, your scholastic aptitude isn't what we're after."
"If you think for a microsecond I'm going to be anyone's true believer, you've got another thing coming. Schrag is brills with the strategy but he's got, like, no boundaries."
"Boundaries are meant to be blurred."
"It's almost cute that you think so," she says, finishing the glass.
He stands, raising his own.
"Isn't it though? Cheers to hoping someone finds your defrost button one day."
"I don't get you. You want me focused, you want me loose. I think you need to separate what the Empire wants from me from what you do. They are not the same thing and only one of those two might actually get it in the end. Spoiler alert, it's not you. Muriel! We're outs."
Muriel tugs on Tobi's arm and swerves toward the door. Quentin follows closely, mugging for photage as they exit. Dahlia's expression is playful but then Quentin holds her hand and it takes everything she has not to scream.
In the hover limo Tobias and Muriel fall onto the back seat, kissing hungrily and giggling as they race toward Diamant Island.
"Why did you do that?"
"Don't be offended. It was a friendly gesture."
"They'll run it," she hisses. "They'll think we're together."
"Quentalia – the newest it-couple! Calm down, it adds depth to that one dimensional note you call a public persona."
"Listen to me, you smarmy little shit. I understand how this world works. Clearly, you do not so do us both a favor and tone it down or I'll-"
"Or you'll what? Don't threaten me with a good time."
She inhales sharply, turning to stare through the window at the glittering lights of the Bolerathon Tower. She would normally reach for a comeback, something to silence his utter stupidity but she suddenly feels warm, amused by it all.
Back in the Winton Penthouse, Tobias withdraws a vial from his pocket and smiles deviously at the three of them.
"Anyone want another hit?"
"What's that?"
"Just a little spice, a rare and cerebral blend. Something to really put a spin on summer."
"Um, no," Dahlia says. "I don't think so."
"Surprise, surprise, its princess buzz kill. Too bad there was already some in all our champagne."
Muriel makes a face, "You didn't ask her first?"
He shrugs.
"I figured she wouldn't know a good time if it bit her in the ass so here's to Dahlia finally loosening up."
This isn't happening, she tells herself. It can't be. She is horrified; alarm spreading as she looks to Muriel for help but by then it's too late. That feeling of contentment ramps up into euphoria. They soon begin to peak and Tobias puts on some mellow music that seems to perfectly mesh with their states of mind. Any anger she felt evaporates into the peaceful warmth of the spice. Its as if someone pumped joy into the bloodstream, everything soft and intensely satisfying. Their skin is dewy, pupils dilated wide but Dahlia's expand further into near pools of darkness.
They dance in the dim lights of the penthouse, writhing up against each other slowly, without shame. Muriel twirls away, long blonde hair becoming blurs of color as Tobias spins sticks of light between his fingers. White streaks hang in the air then disappear with each drift of the breeze.
Quentin runs his lips along Dahlia's neck, pulling her close as they sway in the middle of the living room. Her lashes brush against his cheek as she looks up at him. He does not fear the darkness in her eyes. It calls to him. Their lips slide softly across each other and he smiles. The annoyance she would normally feel is swallowed within the chemical haze and so she leans her head on his shoulder and dances on.
The pulse is subtle, faint but then grows into ripples of power that wash over them.
Muriel veers away, holding her head as the memories taken from her return along with the realization of who took them and why.
"You stole them," she says loudly, stirring Quentin and Dahlia out of their rhythmic stupor. "You took them from me."
"Hmmm?"
"You are…evil…everything you said…you took it from me, made it so I couldn't remember…"
This rights things, if only momentarily.
"No, Mur…that's not-"
"I heard you…here...talking to someone. You said Melanie murdered your sister, that she let her….You talked about a reign of terror, people crying out for mercy."
Quentin's head rolls toward her, "Really? Cool, so cool."
"Muriel, I was kidding. You were worrying over nothing."
Things are spiraling toward a phrase she hoped would never be uttered amongst mixed company.
"You said you were the Daughter of Darkness."
Tobias stops dancing, "What of what now?"
Muriel's mind finally connects all the pieces, everything she previous dismissed as coincidence or jest. She only saw holes in Dahlia's story because she was closest, the one who knew her best.
"You are just like them, aren't you? Just like the stories we read? Stories about the darkness of your sisters and the horrible things they did. You are one of them – a Sith! That woman turned you and you've been lying to us this whole time!!"
Now Tobias and Quentin are staring at her, one with a look of confusion and the other of suspicion. Dahlia struggles to keep composed, breathing heavily.
"You're freaking out, Mur."
"I can prove it," she says, storming out of the room and down the hall. She is gone for what seems like an hour but returns clutching the hilt of her saber. Dahlia's mouth opens as a gasp escapes. "I remember now, I saw where you stashed this last summer and I didn't say anything, I didn't want to believe it but you made me forget."
"What is that?"
"It's a lightsaber," Muriel shrieks, waving it around."You became everything people feared about your family. Instead of learning from the things they did, you dove head first into all of it and kept it from everyone you claimed to care about!"
"Give it to me."
"No, how could you do this? I didn't want you to fall."
"Who's falling? I'm so lost."
"Shut up, Tobi. This just got interesting."
Dahlia is barely holding it together, "Give me the saber, Muriel."
"Tell me why you brought me here."
"I wanted us to spend time together. You are my best friend!"
"Friends don't erase other friend's memories. You brought me here out of guilt. Friends confide in each other, they trust each other."
"I do trust you!"
"Not enough, not with this."
"It's complicated."
"It's really not," Muriel says. "Tell me the truth. Are you one of them?"
Dahlia glances quickly between Quentin and Tobias but cannot conjure an answer that would suitably diffuse the rapidly escalating situation. She settles for sighing which Muriel interprets as an admission. She scoffs and storms out into the hall. Dahlia follows.
"Where are you going?"
"Home."
"You are totally fucked up, you can't leave."
"Like hell I can't."
"Muriel, you can't say anything. To anyone."
"I'm not going to let you silence me again, Dahlia. You can't manipulate your friends to suit your whims. That's not how a real relationship works and what's worse, I never thought you would do that to me. You either let someone in or you don't but you can't have it both ways. You may be able to craft an image of yourself for the public but I know the real you, the girl who didn't care about any of this and wanted to rise above it. You are my best friend and I feel like you betrayed everything that stands for!"
"I saved you!"
It is a line one cannot uncross. Muriel's tone becomes more measured, tears falling from her wide blue eyes.
"If this is how you see our friendship then maybe you shouldn't have."
Dahlia swipes the saber from her hand, accidentally igniting it. The long pink blade hums to life and startles both of them.
Muriel screams and flees down the corridor.
"Muriel, stop!" she shouts, hurling the saber with one fluid motion of her outstretched hand. It spins perfectly, guided by her will, until landing precisely through the center of Muriel's back. She is thrown forward by the sheer force and cries out as she hits the polished stone floor with a wet slap.
Quentin is standing behind her as she turns with an expression of terrifying calm.
Tobias pops out from the doorway then reels back toward the observation terrace when he sees Muriel's body and the saber protruding from it.
"Holy fuck, what…what the…?! What did you do?! What did you-"
Quentin raises a blaster no one saw him holding and shoots Tobias in the face. He drops instantly, unmoving.
"No witnesses."
Dahlia moves purposefully to retrieve and deactivate the saber.
The corridor is plunged into silence.
Quentin is keyed up, turned on by the thrill. He had read reports, heard stories about the power the Winton's possessed. Nothing could prepare him for this.
"Not a soul to tell," she whispers, running a finger down his chest.
Dahlia wanders past him, through the house to the patio where her energy continues to pulse. Ambient trails follow her with each movement. She turns and through a dark and ancient power she levitates from the ground with arms outstretched, head thrown to the sky. A black and purple sphere surrounds her and Quentin can do nothing but marvel at her magnificence as energy pours from the sphere up into the sky until she moves a finger over her smiling lips and everything cuts to blackness.
-TBC
-
"They say hotter the battle, yeah, we dance when we conquer
It's been forever, it won't be much longer
Stand firm, you will be much stronger, oh
Cause I'm a believer, I'm a believer
I'm a believer, I'm a believer."
-Major Lazer
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Her eyes snap open.
It's morning, maybe. Her mind circles around the events of the previous evening when she sits upright sharply. She is tangled in the sheets of her own bed next to the slumbering form of a half naked Quentin.
Noooo. No.
Wait, what happened?
Oh, right.
Dinner and dancing? Check.
Spiked drink? Check.
Almost making out with a player you hate? Check.
Murdering your best friend in a drug-fueled rage? Check.
Blacking out and waking up next to said player distinctly lacking articles of clothing? Check.
Wow, girlfriend, you sure covered the ground to scandal at record speeds.
Quentin stirs, rolling onto his side with a huge smile on his face.
"Morning, gorgeous. Sleep well?"
She deadpans.
"I. Hate. You."
"I thought it felt chilly in here. There's a change. You were so friendly last night."
"We didn't….?"
"Relax, sweetheart. We didn't. But we could…"
She tosses the sheets in his face and storms out of the bedroom and down the hall to the front door. Dahlia taps it open and steps out into the corridor. The bodies are gone. The hall is spotless, as is the Penthouse when she returns to the living room. Everything is just a little too perfect. Not so much as a pillow out of place.
Quentin pads out in boxers sporting a raging hard on.
"I know you have coffine."
She shields her eyes, "I know you have arms to make it for your damn self. What happened here?"
He glances around and nods, satisfied with the results.
"Well, after you short-circuited I put your bitch ass to bed and made a call. The scrub team took care of the rest. The spaceport logs were modified with a departure late last night, two passengers, and destination unknown. Those two crazy kids planned on running away together anyway. They talked about it all the time, how they were going to escape the stifling oppression of the Sector, their way of life and all that. They were going to travel the worlds and live free. They were going to be true to themselves. And now they are. Forever."
Dahlia makes a face, "Did you rehearse that?"
"I had time to put together a press release in my head while you were passed the fuck out. And you say I don't understand how this world works."
Short-circuited?
There is still much she doesn't remember; too much for her liking. The defining details of the evening are very clear.
"Don't tell me you are suddenly having regrets."
There is a sobering truth crystallizing in the room.
"I should have let Muriel die in that pool. She tried to kill herself, you know. A long time ago. If I had let her go then I would never have had to lie to her for so many years. She wouldn't have been determined to leave here and tell the worlds who I really am. She had to be stopped."
"Stop her you did, quite creatively. Tobias was just collateral damage."
"No one will even miss him."
She feels different somehow, more powerful. There are dark urges she fought, suppressing her own nature to maintain appearances but in the end Adubell was right about this. Muriel was an ally who became an enemy. And there is only one way to deal with an enemy. A bittersweet sadness, a dissonance, simmers below the surface but the sensation of empowerment replaces everything else. Dahlia has never felt more alive.
"Then what happened?"
"You don't remember?"
"No."
Quentin stops in front of her, "I've never seen anything like it before. You were radiating with some kind of energy, completely raw."
"Was anything damaged?"
"Nothing visible or reported but I do have a question. What was Muriel talking about? She said she heard you with someone here, who was it?"
Dahlia glances away, to the ocean beyond and so far below.
"Oh, no don't get shy on me now. We're both culpable."
"You'll think I'm crazy."
"We're a little past that."
"I was talking to my sister."
He doesn't blink, "Which one?"
"Karen but I've seen Alexia too. I'm pretty sure we all see our counterparts although I don't know why. We seem to be anchored to them through the Force."
"We weren't aware Dane is also Force Sensitive."
"He's not," she says. "At least not in the way Gemma and I are. But there is a connection, one that allows us insight into the past."
"So, Melanie killed Karen? That's handy since the worlds have been wondering what happened aboard the Centerpoint Station when it imploded. What else did you glean?"
"Karen lowered her saber, tried to level with Melanie and in the end that mistake cost her her life."
"Why would she do that?"
"It turns out that Karen's fall wasn't as complete as the media made it out to be. She wanted to right the wrongs of our father and dispel the supposed lies Melanie and Jedi so thoroughly believed in."
"Which were?"
"That Karen was evil and in the end only one of them could survive."
"None of them survived."
"That's not true," Dahlia says. "Riley Patten was the loophole. He made it out and here we are with a New Four."
Quentin runs a hand along his abs, smirking.
"So you do see the pattern?"
"Don't tell me the Empire is alarmed by this?"
"There is interest," he says. "Potential. No one knows quite which way it's going to go but there are promising developments such as yourself. Everyone is fair game when it comes to The Four. The last round saw the near destruction of the Empire and a rise to yet another grand Republic. Even you can understand the skepticism around your involvement in, well, pretty much anything."
Dahlia groans, "That's why the Emperor doubts me? He thinks I'm going to go all Karen-esque and bitch out?"
"The thought has crossed many a mind. Conversely, another scenario has you losing control of your power completely and taking us all down with you. Of all our plans, you are the most unpredictable variable."
"Not the others?"
"Patten hopes, Gellar leads and Masterton is blinded by the indignation of the Jedi. If things play out as they have been, we will be ahead of the curve with enough influence to manipulate circumstances in favor of our agenda."
"My father thought the same thing and that didn't end well for him. For any of us, actually. I'm not really keen on being a Force ghost, albeit a highly fashionable one."
"Ah, but you presently have a distinct advantage the original Four did not. You are on the other side, in the know, and able to control the situation. As much shit as I give you, you have done a decent job of creating your own identity out of the shadow of your sisters. People actually believe you are a good person."
"But you don't?"
"After what I saw last night, I know better than to underestimate you."
She pushes him. Quentin stumbles back and falls onto the couch.
"Good but know this: we are not a thing. You are going to quell any rumors to the contrary when we hit brunch later then you are going to be on your way."
"I don't take orders from you."
"I don't like being used by the Empire so blatantly. I'm not a pawn in your games. We work together because we have the same goal – for the Empire to triumph over the Republic."
He raises his hands in surrender.
"All we needed to know is how far you were willing to go to keep your secret. Our secrets. Now we do and darling, you did not disappoint."
-TBC
-
"We could fool the datelines
We could jump the statelines
I don't wanna always play nice
But I wanna feel your heartlines
I'll pick you up at midnight
We'll run to beat the sunlight
We only get the one life
And I wanna feel your heartlines."
-Broods
Hyperspace
As the Masterton shuttle races toward Chandaar, Gemma meditates on the floor of her dark cabin. She pulls a deep sense of calm inward and reflects on what must be done. The package containing the Force vaccine was delivered to the Jedi. Director Veritaas saw to that. She knows he takes a considerable risk harboring them on Corellia. If the Republic found out she doesn't know what they would do. Chandaar will be tricky but she must remain strong, focused.
You can do this.
Riley's face returns to her thoughts and she smiles. She can still feel him, heart racing. It could not have been more romantic. As first times go, at least the ones she had heard about, this was spectacular.
"He loves me," she says aloud.
Sure, there are rules and stuff about this. The Jedi frown on such connections. Relationships are forbidden. But she won't deny her feelings for him. She believes their ways have value and through the Force she continues to be healed from the emotional damage inflicted upon her. She would be lost without it.
What she and Riley have transcends the limitations placed upon them.
The door chime echoes through the space, stirring her.
"Yes?"
Garron enters moments later.
"I'm sorry to interrupt but there is something I think you should see."
She joins him in the corridor and they walk back to the controls where a projector is activated and streams gossip feeds from the Holo. He reluctantly taps it back to an earlier story. The front of the hotel they stayed in is shown followed by zooming in on Riley making his way down the street.
"Spotted; the boy billionaire leaving Gem's hotel. Has the friendship between the legacy CorSec cadet and dazzling pop star blossomed into something more?"
Gemma's mouth drops open and Garron turns his gaze to her, full of uncomfortable questions. This can be easily spun by her PR team at Galaxiss Records but it is personally incriminating. She wills herself not to look at him.
"Are we going to have to talk about this?"
"About what?" she says, too quickly. "He wanted to say goodbye."
"That's an early farewell."
"He has things to do, like, you know, training."
"He does," Garron replies evenly. "He missed a session this morning. Veritaas said he wasn't in the dorms last night. He thought Riley might be with you. Turns out that could be true. Thoughts?"
Gemma finally raises her eyes to meet his.
"It's…possible."
"Possible? He looks a little too happy in the photage."
She sighs, "He spent the night."
"Gemma!"
"No, we are not having 'the talk.' We already had 'the talk' with our parents so please, just don't…"
"I wasn't gonn-"
"The thing is," she says. "I love him, Garron. I always have."
"Gem-"
"And I know you think everything that has happened makes me vulnerable and that may even be true to an extent. But not about this. This was the one thing I have complete control over. I wanted to be with him and he wanted to be with me. My mother always told me that I would know in my heart if it was right. I do. He is. I've never been surer of anything."
There is a frightful pause.
"Okay Gemma."
"Okay?"
"You aren't a child; you really haven't been for a while now. I may not always understand your decisions but I know your motives come from a good place. So if you tell me this is what you want then, well, you've got my support."
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"Incredibly," Garron says, wincing.
She smiles, "Thanks."
"Good talk."
She turns back to the consol and keys up a message from Demaris. She had lunch with Dane on Mondder and reports he seems to be doing well. That comforts her in some small way. She knows how close he was to their father. Losing both parents shattered an invisible protective barrier around them, opening up an entirely new and terrifying world of possibilities. Thankfully, they both had something to cling to – Dane with the company, Gemma with her music – so that they could work out their feelings organically and not destructively.
Gemma hasn't heard from Dahlia since she left for Hesperidium. She really didn't expect to but it might have been nice. She could reach out but then what would she say? She can't exactly let Dahlia know she worries about careening into darkness or that she suspects she knew Georgie was one of the creatures all along. She doesn't exactly have proof of anything either.
The most unsettling thing about Dahlia is that since she lives some of her life so publicly it creates the illusion of knowing her when that's not really true. She may not even know her at all. Nobody really does. That leaves a lot of room for speculation.
Gemma could say the same thing about herself. The duality she crafted around the altruistic goal of peace and purpose clashes with a truth the Jedi live. She knows they disapprove of fame and wealth as these are selfish things. Are they truly selfish if she uses them to further their cause? Using her vast resources to advocate for equality doesn't feel like the wrong course of action. If anything, it can bring them closer. And on Chandaar, they have a long ways to go.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
There is peace on the empty stretch of sand and the blue waves beyond.
She walks alone, crimson hair caught in the breeze when she sees another standing near the water. Muriel turns slowly and although she smiles it cannot hide the vacancy in her wide eyes. Dahlia calls out. Muriel looks back at the sea and wades into the waves. Without turning, without speaking, she moves deeper into the water until she disappears. Parts of the ocean darken, spreading outward until something breaks the surface – a giant creature with four heads attached to long, sickening necks. And though the creature towers over her, casting a shadow across the sand, she can see horns upon which have crowns. The faces are that of the Voss-Ra; mutilated flesh and jagged teeth opening toward the sky.
The shriek it makes is as chilling as it is deafening.
The creature turns in on itself and collapses into a wall of water. The darkness recedes and Alexia emerges from the foam and spray. She is not whole, pieced together with machinery and circuits and a black, Imperial combat jumpsuit. Her face is slashed and burned with crimson hair cut shorter but those eyes, those emerald eyes. One could never mistake those – the jewels of their father. She appraises her with a calculating stare.
"Be warned, Darth D'Cera."
"Warned?"
Alexia nods.
"We failed because the child lived."
*
Dahlia's eyes flutter open.
The ceiling comes into focus. Soon the cooling breeze drifts through the room, rousing her back to the present. The child lived? The strangeness of the comment lingers. Dahlia yawns, stretching out across the bed. Quentin was long gone and she was alone with her thoughts. She mourned her friend as though it signified letting go of a part of her past. She had been liberated both by the death of her parents and through the murder of her best friend.
A murder she committed.
Some might say she crossed a line. She would argue she already crossed it when she agreed to Adubell's teachings to avoid being tortured. She has taken lives before. She even killed Adubell - fat lot of good it did. Dahlia knew the crossroads would come. She just never expected a showdown…with witnesses. Witness, actually. She had considered striking Quentin down as well because; let's face it, who needs the hassle? He's such a prick. However, he is not an enemy. Quentin serves a purpose which makes him momentarily useful. Also, slaying Barrett's only confirmed friend may start the relationship out on the wrong note.
Ease into the crazy.
Dahlia spends the days training and nights keeping up appearances. She shops, she eats, she stares dreamily into the distance and the Holo eats it up. With sound bites about how excited she is to be starting university in the Fall and her aspirations to balance both career and education – it's difficult not to like her. At least from a distance. This is exceptionally apparent when comparing her to her sisters. One was nuts and the other a self-indulgent, fence-riding attention whore. Dahlia leans in to the perception she's all about changing things. Sure she is, just not what they think.
She slips out of bed and pads through the house to the patio. She is always drawn here, surveying the expanse of the unknown above and below. Both are dark and full of secrets just like she is. She extends a hand, calling the saber to it. Her fingers grip the hilt and she inhales, feeling powerful and centered but the dream does not leave her.
Pink, crimson and black – a weapon with options.
Her eyes glint in the moonlight.
The end of summer is most definitely nigh.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Dahlia is amidst packing for her departure from Hesperidium. Had her parents been alive, she probably would have returned to the Corporate Sector a few weeks ago before heading off to college. But her parents were dead, Gemma was on tour, and Dane was busy mixing it up with corporate lackies. Most of her friends had also dispersed, and Dahlia so no reason to return to an empty home.
University on Ambaril served a number of goals for her, and she had used some of her family name - both family names, actually - and the sympathy card to get not only a a single, but a small suite on campus, something virtually unheard of for incoming freshmen.
In the background, the holo was on, discussing the latest galaxy gossip, war efforts, musical trends, when the ominous dum dum music came on.
"This is a special bulletin - riots have broken out at the famous Ambaril Concert Hall in the middle of the concert performance of rising star Gemma Masterton"
Hearing the name, Dahlia turned away from her suitcase to the screen. There it was, a snippet of the performance, and the damning video right behind her. Gemma was a jedi. Adubell had told her as much, but seeing it so clearly, so vividly ...
"Evidently, the video was hacked into the system of the concert hall and several major media outlets. The source is unconfirmed, but the video footage itself has been verified as un-tampered. Masterton's sister was known to be a jedi, but Masterton herself, until today, was never confirmed to be sensitive to the force, and was allowed onto Ambaril despite the Force User Registration Act because she is not a Republic citizen. Concert security have made no comment about the whereabouts of the young Ms. Masterton. Speculation has only just begun on how this could affect her musical career"
"I do love my handiwork"
Dahlia's saber was lit with the dark crimson color as she turned. There stood Adubell, ashen-colored skin, no hidden makeup. Her eyes were sunken in somewhat, but otherwise, she was fit as ever.
"What? No applause? In one sweep, I did what you refused to do. What you couldn't do. I destroyed your adopted sister's reputation. She won't be able to hide behind celebrity anymore."
Dahlia could feel the anger pulsing through her and she began to move menacingly toward Adubell.
"Oh give it up, child. I wouldn't have had to put her through suffering if you had just disposed of her cleanly. You know the threat she posed. You waited too long. You vacation here, as if it is significant. It's not. And while I am building a galaxy that will one day bow to you, you let the enemies slip through. If Gemma and Riley Patten live, it is only a matter of time before they produce a child of pure light, one who will fight you. If you want to be victorious, they cannot be allowed to bring a child into this galaxy"
Dahlia was about to brush off the assertion - Gemma was too young - but then she recalled her dream.
"You will not tell me how to fight my battles!"
She lunged her saber at Adubell, who didn't flinch. The blade singed her clothing, but as it touched her flesh it sputtered out.
"Remember, apprentice - I cannot be killed. You however can. You have the same weakness as Karen. She thought Melanie was her friend. And Melanie cut off her head. Your enemies live because your sisters failed. Soon, the next phase of the plan will come to fruition, your influence will grow, your power over the galaxy will strengthen. But it is all for naught if you cannot do what is necessary."
Adubell kicked the deactivated saber at Dahlia, and turned to head out the door.
"Have a good time in college, D'Cera"
TBC
-
UnDisclosed Location
Pain. Searing, unending. Torturous. Garron tried opening his eyes, but one seemed swollen shut. He could feel ribs cracked in his body, and it was hard to breath at all, impossible without feeling jabs of pain each time.
It was several moments before his memory came back to him, the encounter with the saber-wielding foe
"GEMMA!" His scream came out a hoarse whisper.
Despite the pain he tried rising, only to find that his arms were pinned down, painfully chained to a wall over his head. His legs as well, clamped in place beneath him.
He swallowed, willing his good eye to look around.
The room was dim, nondescript. Aside from his chains, the walls were bare and smooth and gray, the floor and ceiling almost identical. There was a single lamp about five meters away,just above the door, which as he was looking, began to open.
In he walked, the armored menace.
"Garron Prescott. confidante of the Rutherford Gellar. Protector of the Gemma Masterton. A double failure"
Garron tried reaching out, but the stabbing pain kept even his outrage from having too much effect.
"Where is she? What have you done to her?"
The Inquisitor did not respond to the question.
"It is not your concern. From now on, the only questions that will be answered will be my own. And when I am done extracting information from you, you will be a shell, a mindless, soulless, pathetic creature. You will ask for death. You will beg for death"
The Inquisitor reached out his arm, still a good meter away from Garron. Electricity shot from him, and Garron cried in agony.
"But death will not come so quickly or mercilessly for you"
TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
The furniture in the living room has been pushed against the walls, leaving a large open space to work.
Dahlia executes a series of advanced attacks. It is flawless, beautiful as she had done countless times before. After Adubell left, Dahlia spent most of her time in meditation and practice. She was furious. Every encounter with her master stoked her fire more and the anger burns deep within her. She has never hated anything or anyone as much as she hates Adubell. The mere fact that she continues to live, cannot be killed without being reborn, annoys the shit out of her.
At the very least Adbuell could attempt a form not so hideously twisted. A little lipstick could go a long way, girlfriend.
There are some small comforts.
Gemma's spectacular failure is all over the Holo. They are calling her a terrorist, something she imagines comes as quite a shock to the doe-eyed beauty. She didn't move to strike Gemma down because she knew the ruse would never hold. Gemma isn't as adapt at these games but Adubell mistakes her patience and tactics as weakness. Not all progress is made in bold strides and bloodshed. A lot of the work she will do inside the Republic is founded upon her preternatural ability to manipulate situations to their favor. She won't get anything done if she goes in a blaze of saber glory, not with the sentiment sowing the seeds of discontent amongst the Republic's populous. They need a figure to admire and look up and she and Barrett are destined to be those figures.
Dahlia executes the attacks again, vaulting over the sunken steps to land near the patio doors. She draws on her anger and it strengthens her. It is better to practice indoors as any suspicious behavior in public could compromise her studious and strangely wholesome image.
She looks forward to the privacy of the on-campus suite waiting for her on Ambaril. No pesky roommates to interfere with her plans. Granted, it won't be as posh as this or the suite in The Menagerie but one must maintain appearances.
Moving on to saber dexterity, Dahlia activates the training sphere. The small blaster bolts are deflected easily as it moves through levels of difficulty. She is able to spin, leap and slash her way to victory but soon the fires of rage boil over. Dahlia projects forward with inhuman speed, slicing through the sphere while screaming. The device drops to the floor and she exhales, deactivating the saber.
Perhaps she is still a little edgy. Murdering someone will do that.
Fall draws near and she leaves for Ambaril at the end of the week. For all that is on her mind, one thought burns brightest. There has got to be a way to end Adubell once and for all.
-TBC
-
Hyperspace
Gemma comes to with a start and a gasp.
It takes a moment to gather her bearings but the searing pain shooting along her shoulder and cheek bring home the reality of her situation. Groaning, she pulls off the tunic and manages to stand, catching her reflection in the darkness of one of the panels. Her sparkling dress, the tousled blonde hair, wounds marring her flesh – she is a vision of defeat. She holds back a fresh wave of tears as she finds and rummages through the medical kit. Gemma disinfects her injuries and places bacta strips across them. The cooling comfort brings relief and she leans her forehead against wall. Then she remembers: Garron
Pushing back, Gemma moves back through the passenger cabin to the rear of the shuttle…except Garron isn't there. She is confused, glancing around.
"Garron?"
Her voice is weak much like she feels.
Nothing.
Silence.
Her eyes find the spot where she knows he fell but now there is only a small pool of blood with thin streaks that stretch all the way up the closed ramp. No. That can't be possible. He was there when she closed the ramp.
Or was he?
There are flashes of the fight, the Inquisitor and his jagged green saber. She had used so much energy to break free and eject him from the shuttle. She didn't even know she had it in her. The adrenaline, the intensity of their peril, had amplified her abilities although now it seems not enough. They had both been defeated. The truth of their shortcomings are so glaring they sting.
She cannot tear her eyes away from the streaks of blood. He is gone and in this moment, Gemma Masterton has never felt so alone.
-TBC
-
UnDisclosed Location
Garron had remained strong, resolute. But months of torture had eaten away at him, slowly but surely.
The armored monster stepped into the light, and Garron's body was quivering, shaking.
"You've been so helpful, Mr. Prescott. Let us continue where our last discussion left off.
The jedi. where are they hiding?"
Tears streamed from his eyes, he bit his lip, chapped and bloody as it was.
The faceless one cocked his head.
"Still holding out? What a shame ..."
electricity flew again, Garron's tears turning to screams
hours later, the words escaped his lips.
"Di'an ... on ... Di'an"
The interrogator disappeared back into the darkness, the door closing behind him, and Garron collapsed to the ground, sobbing.
What had he done?
-
Corporate Sector
It came at night, a dark vessel that passed through the sensors and defenses that orbited the corporate world. Easy enough - the vessel was small, really only a starfighter, its outer hull painted to absorb and bend light. One had to be looking really, really closely to see the brief distortion among the stars and blackness of space.
No spaceport for this vessel - it made its way directly to its destination: The Gellar Estate. It landed among the trees in the back, soft hiss as the hatch opened, and the armored menace made his way out.
He hesitated for a moment by the rotted tree where the sith holocron had revealed to Dahlia the secrets of her family's lineage. He stood there, tasting the dark side that had embedded itself in the roots, breathing it in before finally moving on, making his way to the house.
The windows are dark, but for the occasional flashing red dots, indicating the security systems were activated. He lifted his hand and the lights shifted from red to green. The lock on the backdoor clicked open and he was inside the Gellar home.
Still no signs of life, he made his way upstairs to the bedrooms, finding them empty. parents were dead. Dahlia was off-world. Dane apparently was spending the night at work.
Where was the other twin, where was Gemma?
He obviously knew she had returned here after Garron had been captured - news reports had made it clear. But now it was apparent she was the link to the refugee potentials. Between the news and imperial spies, Gemma's movements had been closely watched, meaning she had not left the world.
At least not yet.
And besides, he could sense her - no, not her, them. THEY were here. Too many force potentials, and too many that could not yet hide themselves.
It would only be a matter of time now before he found them.
He made his way around the residence, carefully placing miniscule recording bugs.
When Gemma returned, he would know it.
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
Garron's broken body lay on the floor as the door opened.
He opened the one eye not swollen shut, immediately cowering back in fear.
Adubell stepped into the light, offering a thin-lipped smile as she surveyed the man on the floor.
"I thought I would find you here. I was worried that you would be dead"
"What ... what do you want?" Garron's words were hard coming out, his throat so dry, his lips so parched.
"I'm going to help you, Garron Prescott. I'm going to make you all better."
TBC
-
Corporate Sector
D'ian: Surface: Viperii Lake
It did not take long for the Hunter to realize the Gellar lakehouse was the next stop on his search. When he arrived there, the house was as abandoned as the Gellar residence - but it was still different, nonetheless. The house buzzed with energy of not one, but many force users. He could feel their presence - or rather, their residual presence. They had been here, recently - mats on the floors and walls confirmed that this had been used for training - but they were gone now.
Did they know he was coming? Unlikely. No one ever saw him coming.
So where?
He rummaged through the entire lakehouse, taking several hours to comb through what was left behind. There was almost nothing left behind. Almost.
Entering the study, he found on the desk an orb projector, and upon activation, the room lit with the hovering lights of a galaxy map.
Two routes were coursed out on the map, and the Hunter allowed a smile to cross his lips as he examined them closely.
one route was to Illum. The other to Jedha.
There was only one thing those two worlds had in common - they were famous for harvesting the crystals jedi used in their lightsabers.
"eenie meenie minee mo ..." which one would be their most likely destination? Both worlds had suffered at the hands of the Empire, had lost much of what the jedi were seeking.
Several minutes of silence before the Hunter deactivated the equipment, pulled a thermal detonator from his pack, and armed it.
The Lake House was in a quiet, isolated part of the planet, far from prying eyes. Such was the way the Gellars liked it.
No one heard as the house crumbled to the ground, flames lingering long into the night
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
Garron was strapped to a chair, going back and forth between struggling and resting. He would cry out in pain at nothing at all, or tense. every muscle into spasm. He wasn't dressed, per se, the smallest rags of clothing giving him a modicum of decency.
Adubell, for her part would tend to him every day, cleaning him and caring for his wounds, all the while, whispering soft words into his head.
"Its ok, Garron Prescott. I am your friend. I will help you. You can trust me."
He shook his head, again, but it was less emphatically then the last time he shook his head, the last time he had vehemently disagreed with her.
She smiled down at him. It was only a matter of time.
TBC
-
Mid-Rim
The shuttle flares out of hyperspace above the moon of Jedha.
The trip was a mixture of emotions as some objected to Alia’s presence and inclusion in the mission. For her part, Alia did not make things easier. Her abrasive candor and aloof demeanor turned everyone off with the exception of Sirona. The Twi’lek seemed amused by everything she said while the others grew into various states of alarm or distain. Gemma forged through, using the Force to temper patience as she ensured calm among the group.
As Taarek eases the shuttle downward, across the dusty mesas and jagged canyons, Demaris leans forward to survey the landscape.
“It’s not very pretty, is it?”
He smiles, “What were you expecting?”
“Something mysterious perhaps,” she muses. “Something a little more…esoteric.”
“The holy city was decimated long ago. Half the planet’s surface was tossed into the atmosphere after the blast. Now it’s just ruins of ruins. Specks of dust and sand.”
Demaris tucks a strand of purple hair behind her ear, “It’ll be a miracle if we find anything at all.”
“Not feeling it?”
“I’m more pragmatic about things. Don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”
He nods, “What do you know about the crystals?”
“They live,” she says. “They feel. They connect with the Force user. Rumor has it a meteor crashed eons ago made of kyber. Once here, they began to spread so that’s where the mines came from. The ground beneath is rich with them, or they were at least. We heard the Empire was hard up for them back in the day.”
“True but the richest concentration from what I heard was below the grand mesa, beneath the holy city.”
“You just said it was destroyed.”
“The explosion could have sent it into the surrounding area. If it survived, it may have regrown since then.”
“Maybe…but where to start?”
Lisette speaks, stepping into the cabin with them.
“I know where.”
He stands, tapping on a swirling map of Jedha.
“Show us.”
Demaris admires his faith in the Jedi. He never doubts their abilities, even when they fail. Taarek wants them to become what they are meant to and live without persecution. She’s all for it. Blindfolded, Lisette moves to the center of the cabin and removes her hood. She puts her small hands into the holographic landscapes. She murmurs, coordinates, landmarks, and Taarek adjusts the course. Lisette can feel them, the crystals, calling out to her. When they tell the others by the passenger cabins, not everyone is thrilled.
“She can what now?” Alia says. “Feel them?”
“You can’t?”
In truth, she feels a lot of things but she’ll be damned if she’s going to share that with these people.
“You trust this…feeling?” Shendo says.
Lisette nods.
Sirona and Oz nod as well.
“Then we go.”
Demaris turns to Gemma, “Wow, I did not see that coming.”
A while later, Taarek’s voice crackles over the com – “Hold tight, we’re coming up on it now.” The landing is smoother than it could have been and Gemma joins everyone near the ramp controls.
“Two teams,” Gemma says, standing before them. “Shuttle team includes Taarek, Lisette, and Demaris. Recon team with me are Oz, Sirona, Shendo, and Alia.”
“Seriously?” Alia sighs.
“Seriously.”
The recon team gathers up what gear they have and head down the ramp. Alia’s red bodysuit is distracting and not all that subtle. She doesn’t care. Taarek watches them head out across the sand and closes the ramp. On the virtual map, a sandstorm is sweeping across the north. If it holds, it should miss them. Even so, he puts them on a clock. Get in, get out – they would make the next move if and when there was a move to make.
Gemma walks briskly toward the rocky outcropping but as they near, they see a much more distinct pattern. Four pillars of crimson rock, one more jagged than the next, forming the mouth of a hidden cave. It is obscured from view unless you stand on the right angle. And then the blackness opens up before them. She could feel something too but it’s diluted by a sense of low level dread. Sirona and Oz enter first, gripping blasters with Shendo and his blade right behind them. Gemma and Alia take up the rear as they disappear from sight into the cave.
Thirty-minutes later, Gemma confirms Lisette’s assertion. There are crystals in the cave. They must have flourished in the years that passed. A flashing light pulls Taarek’s attention away. The storm has shifted, barreling toward them now. He slaps the com, calling Gemma and the team back to the shuttle.
“Will we make it?”
He glances down at the map, at their position, the storm swirling in.
“No. Hold tight – I’m going to set the shuttle down closer to the canyon so we have some protection.”
As he does this, a beige and crimson cloud pours off the tops of the rocks and past them through the canyon. The shuttle is jarred but holds.
“Gemma, you still there?”
Only static, a faint hiss.
“Gemma?”
The com goes dead.
-TBC
-
Jedha
Surface
Shendo coughs and retreats back down into the cave with the others. The storm has cut them off and all they can do is wait. Gemma lowers the com, only hearing the hiss of static. They had found crystals but questions remain. There is a feeling, something simmering below the surface, that ties to the mouth of the cave framed by four pillars.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wanted to ask Lysette something,” Gemma says. “About…this place.”
Alia sighs, draping herself across a wilted boulder.
“What about it?”
“There were four pillars.”
“So?”
Sirona cracks another glow stick and shoot her a glance.
“You don’t know?”
Oz chimes in, “About the legend of them?”
“Who?”
“The Four.”
Gemma looks away.
Alia’s face registers nothing, “So, the blonde has a story? Do tell.”
“You first.”
“What do you want to know?”
“How does the Csapla heiress come to acquire Force training?”
“I never said it was Force training,” Alia says evenly. “Roman did.”
Oz smirks, “A master of technicality.”
“But you have training?”
“I sought it out.”
“From whom?”
Alia eases off the boulder and moves languorously toward Gemma, her red body suit accentuating every movement.
“Are you familiar with House Phalanx?”
“No.”
“They are a retinue loyal to my father, a highly skilled paramilitary group. They protected us since long before I was born. There was one I sought out specifically, silent and brooding and, as it turns out, the deadliest. I bedded him and threatened to expose this indiscretion unless he shared with me the knowledge to protect myself. He spent years training me but during one of these sessions my abilities manifested themselves. I was discovered by the other Phalanxes who informed my father. My Phalanx had to die and with him our secret. They thought my powers, uncontrolled, took his life.”
“You’re a killer."
Alia shrugs, never breaking gaze.
“I did what I had to. My father labeled me an unstable threat. My mother supported him but for the sake of our legacy, this was kept from the family and other houses.”
Gemma swallows, seeing some similarities.
“I suppose we are not that different in some ways.”
“You have slain others?”
“Only to protect myself and those I hold dear.”
“Then we are no different."
“It’s not the same thing,” Gemma says. “The Phalanx did not have to die since they discovered your abilities anyway. It comes down to the choices we make. Those choices lead us down different paths and when it comes to the Force, it is those choices that matter most.”
“I will admit your families story is not unfamiliar to me.”
The others now watch with rapt attention.
“What do you mean?”
“The Masterton’s, the Winton’s, those four families who changed the course of your worlds histories…”
“And here I thought you were isolationists.”
Alia allows a brief smile, “Oh, we are but while we don’t crave drama the same way humans do, there is a certain amount of…amusement that can be derived from galactic events. Although it happened mostly before I was born, I heard stories of the four girls who shaped things to come. Its inspiring really...and silly. Such a waste. And the best the Holo could come up with was "The Four?" Pathetic. I know your sister was a Jedi but also, a fool. She could have stopped these things if she had only acted sooner and in the end, all four lost their lives. along with so many others. How much blood was on their hands? Thousands? Millions? So reckless for someone so bent on virtue.”
Anger burns at the edges of Gemma’s vision but she quells it quickly.
“You don’t know anything about my family.”
“All powerful families are alike,” Alia says. “Mine and yours. Even Demaris’. They would do anything to protect the power they have…even if it means sacrificing their own blood. But not me. I will not be a casualty in their quest for dominance.”
The foresight and practicality aside, to do so would require an acquiescence to forces Gemma is unsure that Alia is ready for.
“Be that as it may, let’s get what we came for and get out.”
*
In the shuttle, Taarek watches the sensors closely to monitor the storm. Hopefully it would pass soon and they could move on. Demaris watches through the viewport as grains of sand pelt the exterior, obscuring everything in a haze of beige and rust.
Lysette gasps, sinking to the floor.
“Lysette? What’s wrong?”
The girl slumps forward, trembling.
Demaris glances at Taarek and kneels beside her, “Lysette?”
Between breaths, frantic, she whispers.
“He’s…he’s coming…”
“Who?”
“The hunter.”
-TBC
-
Jedha
Surface
The air in the cave shifts dramatically, causing all to stiffen. Their senses serve them well. They are no longer alone. The green glow clashes with the dull light of the sticks as the Inquisitor appears between two jagged boulders.
Alia rises, lip curled upward, “What...the fuck….is that?”
Blaster fire erupts from Sirona and Oz, red met against slashes of green and deflected. Everyone acts at once, just like they had practiced back on D’ian, to work together as a team. Demaris had been insistent on it and later, Taarek reinforced the importance of collaboration and utilization of strength. However, this is the first time they had attempted in a live setting and Alia is the variable no one counted on. She would be a liability.
Shendo leaps high, bringing his blade down toward the Inquisitor. Anticipating this, it twists away, bringing an arm sweeping through the air. Shendo is sent careening to the left, slamming into the cave walls. Gemma shoves the sack with the crystals into Alia’s hands.
“GO!”
For once, she doesn’t question and darts away. As the Inquisitor moves to stop her, Sirona and Oz level another volley of blaster fire which draws attention away. They charge forward, narrowly avoiding the deadly slashes of the Inquisitor’s saber. Sirona goes left, bringing her blaster up but it is crushed by the Inquisitor’s hand. Oz veers right and swings with the butt of his own blaster. The Inquisitor catches his arm, snaps it then reaches back to grab Sirona and hurl her at him. Together, they are thrown across the floor of the cave.
Weaponless, Gemma gathers her strength and Force pushes him back. Shendo limps forward, pulling Oz and Sirona back the way they came.
“Go,” she says lowly. “It’s me it wants.”
The Inquisitor towers over her, a low guttural laughs emanating from beneath the glistening mask backlit by the saber.
“Tsk, tsk, Gemma Masterton. Always thinking it’s about you. Let them go, you will not escape in this storm. You know it and I know it. You are trapped.”
“Where’s Garron?”
“That depends,” it growls. “He could be in many places by now.”
She swallows hard, the sobering reality settling over her. The Inquisitor is right. Garron could be dead and it was her lies that buried him.
“How does it feel?”
Eyes stinging with tears, she refocuses on the mask. The Inquisitor draws back as if inhaling the energy in the room.
“Feels good to me.”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want,” it says. “Extinction of the Jedi. Your numbers are dwindling. You are almost the last of your kind…but none of you are long for this world. Or the next. Your memory, your legacy, will be washed away in a tide of blood.”
“Not if we stop you first.”
“Naïve little girl. Your plan to come here for the crystals was predictable, amateur, and so indicative of the antiquated ways of the Jedi. Their teachings are methodical but outdated and useless compared to the power of the dark side.”
Gemma stands her ground, forcing down the fears raging within her.
“Not even an original speech? And you say I’m the predictable one.”
“Self-righteousness killed your sister. What a tragedy that it has happened yet again, especially when you have so much potential for destruction. Just imagine, all the things you could do if you just let go. That pathetic little training ground on your home world isn’t going to shield you from your own questions. After all, what has the Jedi really done for you?”
The doubts she has about Master Nevylinn’s motives flood back to her. They had gone dark, left her and the others to fend for themselves. What was that feeling simmering just below the surface? It is more than confusion and distrust; it is anger.
“There it is.”
Gemma brings herself back, slowing her breath as the emotion subsides.
“You can’t get in my head.”
“I don’t have to. Give in to it and let that anger be your guide.”
“No,” Gemma says. “I won’t.”
“Fool!” The Inquisitor roars, green saber appearing in the darkness. The attack is quick but she had been anticipating the strike. She moves from the blade, letting it slide by her through a series of blurred movements. The Inquisitor advances, emerald sparks showering down as the blade strikes the rocks of the cave. She is driven back but guiding him as she positioned herself during their exchange.
Anger fuels him but it can also blind.
At just the right moment, Gemma reaches out and pushes on his knee with the Force. The Inquisitor stumbles, if only slightly, as she brings the blade down hard against a weak spot in the rocks. It crumbles, one falling atop the other to come down between them and seal the cave. Gemma scrambles backward, turning to run back up through the tunnel and out into the hissing storm.
The others are huddled beneath an outcropping, the four pillars barely registering against the blowing sand. She stumbles toward them, trying to shield her face, failing. She drops to the ground and it feels like her face is peeling off but she must keep her mouth and eyes closed. Crawling forward, she feels them out through the Force. Her hand finds another hand, then another. They huddle together to wait it out but there is another sound over the howl. The shape of the shuttle appears, flowing low and unsteady, to land beyond the four pillars. Gemma can hear Demaris in her head.
This way.
They blindly stagger their way toward the shuttle, clutching each other until they trip over the lowered ramp. Once inside, Gemma races toward the controls.
Taarek turns when she enters.
“Blast it,” she says. “Blast the mouth of the cave!”
His fingers dance across the controls and two blasts in rapid succession bring the entrance to the cave in on itself. He stays low, easing the shuttle along the floor of the canyon. It is still too dangerous to fly and so they wait until the storm passes before making their escape.
In orbit, Taarek moves to plot their course back home but Gemma stops him, shaking her head.
“It’s not safe,” she says. “The Inquisitor knows about D’ian.”
Demaris frowns, “Where will we go?”
Taarek touches the control again, “I know a place.”
As the injured are tended to, Alia sits alone in silence. She is not sure what she just witnessed but now it is real. There are things the Chiss spoke about only in whispers, with disdain and judgment, but they had never seen such evil. Not in person. Not embodied in what they call The Inquisitor. Still in her hands, clutched between her blue fingers, is the bag full of kyber crystals.
-TBC
-
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
How many months had passed with Garron strapped to a chair?
How long had it been since he had been free?
How long had he endured the torture? The loneliness?
Relief from that loneliness came from one solitary figure, the woman with gray skin, but in the dim light, she looked almost ... beautiful.
Adubell would smile at him and care for him and break up the emptiness of days staring in darkness.
She was his friend. He could trust her.
There was a part of him that knew better, that knew she was a part of his capture, that she was, in fact, the enemy. But that part had grown quieter and quieter, as day after day, Adubell would whisper into his ear.
He had been strong once, but he had been reduced now to a shriveled being. He couldn't help but crave the visits from her.
And she in turn, would push, deeper into his thoughts, using her powers to break him even more.
Garron Prescott, but a shell of the man he once was.
Today, she came, smiling, and he smiled back at her.
"I hope you are feeling well, Garron."
He nodded his head, as she approached, running a warm hand along his cheek.
"Do you trust me, Garron?"
He nodded again
"If you trust me, I can help you be free ... but you'll need to do something for me. Do you think you can do that?"
Again, he nodded his head, eyes glazed slightly as he stared up at her.
-
Hyperspace
Gemma Masterton reflects on the altercation in the privacy of her quarters.
The team is shaken up, some of them injured, but they made it out alive. This was her second meeting with the Inquisitor but she suspects not her last. He would not stop until they are all dead so they must stop him first. This is so much easier said than done. They were not ready, not prepared for the task at hand. Many of them are still new to their abilities and have yet to hone these skills to defend themselves. Alia is the most shaken, surprisingly enough, and had fallen silent for the first time since they agreed to harbor her. The good news is they obtained the crystals - a crucial step in constructing weapons to protect themselves.
She sobs into her hands, overcome with emotion. The Inquisitor struck a nerve, caused her to consider feelings she pushed down. The terrible truth is that the Inquisitor isn't wrong. There is significant doubt about Master Nevylinn and the Jedi. She has been trained and guided but she still feels abandoned. Gemma wonders if these feelings are merely amplified as a result of the loss of her parents. She is astute enough to see that. Celeste Masterton was a doctor of the mind and had imparted great wisdom to Gemma over the years. Mindfulness came easier to her because of her mother. This made the Jedi's teachings that much more natural. Still, with the Jedi scattered to the winds she is left feeling lost and helpless.
If Garron has perished, it is her fault. She thought it would be best to pose as a pop star while carrying out the Jedi's plans. It was foolish and naïve. Even Master Nevylinn had seen that. But Garron followed her orders and risked his own life to protect her. Guilt aside, her trust in the Jedi has wavered and Demaris was beginning to worry. Gemma has done her best to assure her but the ruse is only partially convincing. Demaris believes in the Jedi and all the good they can do. She wishes them to restore balance and peace but Gemma frightfully wonders if that is even possible. The rise and fall of the Jedi seem to hinge on a perspective too narrow to really make any real progress. She chokes back another sob and tries to steady her breathing when a dreadful thought appears. Are the Jedi truly the galactic saviors seeking to restore balance or merely the last vestige of a dying priest-class too consumed by their own self-righteousness to make a difference? It's not like their shortsightedness hasn't been well-documented. This isn't the first time they had been hunted down and exterminated only to reappear, grow, and...learn nothing from it?
Her thoughts drift to Melanie.
Her sister believed in the Jedi completely. She devoted her life to them and circumventing that damned prophecy…and look where it got her. Melanie was killed along with nearly everyone she held dear. The Jedi was pushed underground only to be driven out by a government who believed their secrecy belied a darker purpose of control. Was Alia right? Was Melanie a fool? If she had looked beyond the protocols and prophecies, would Melanie and the others have survived? Gemma knows it's silly to pretend they could have all been a happy family. She would not even exist if Celeste hadn't survived and fallen in love with Rutherford Gellar. Her parents were the only two to come out of the carnage alive…but now they are gone too. Anyone connected to that past, anyone with any answers is dead. The exceptions are Vex Sienna and Circe Prescott. Vex is an Imperial Agent and, from what she knows, strayed on the periphery of their antics which may explain why he is still alive. Circe is believed dead in the Ambaril bombing but instead survives under the alias Octavia Valles on Corellia. She was close to Melanie, closer than most were. Gemma knows she was sent away before the Battle at Centerpoint Station so she could tell their story. The years may have brought a reflection on the situation, her sister, and the Jedi.
Perhaps it is time Gemma spoke candidly with Circe.
-TBC
-
Outer Rim
Lur
Surface
The shaken crew unloads in the docking bay which opens into a much larger hangar. Taarek had been tight-lipped about their destination, sharing only that it was a safe place. Lur lay just beyond the CSA but, they were assured, held solid alliances with the ways of the Republic. Not the Republic as it stands now, but as it once was. The Lurrians were peace-loving and very intelligent, adept in bioengineering and genetics. The base below the frozen world offered a sanctuary of sorts to those fleeing the unrest in Chandaar and had aided Taarek in helping Force-sensitives escape.
Medical attention is dispatched to the injured while others are shown to quarters in which they should wash up and rest. The journey had not been a peaceful one as Taarek had questioned Gemma as to how she knew the Inquisitor was privy to their hideout on D’ian. When she told him, a solemn look crossed his face. Her first concern was that the Inquisitor would go after Dane but, after some discussion, it was decided that his profile is much too high to risk something so brazen. Gemma’s reputation was in shreds and, with whereabouts unknown to the public, it would be easier to target her than her brother. The revelation of their discovered activities within the CSA is a setback, for sure, but this would not stop Taarek from doing what he felt was right.
Demaris helps get the others settled, guiding a surprisingly mute Alia down the corridor. She hands Gemma the bag containing the crystals and nods to Taarek. Gemma holds it gingerly, slipping into the pocket of her jumpsuit. It was a small victory but a victory none the less. They would need to construct weapons in order to fight what is to come. The Inquisitor may be trapped but it was unclear if it remained alive within the cave. She knows Circe may have answers but it may not be safe to contact her, especially if it puts Riley in danger. She would have to play this carefully now.
Taarek pulls Gemma aside.
“I don’t need the Force to tell me this is more complicated than it seems.”
She swallows hard, “You have no idea.”
“Care to let me in on the story?”
“You know the story.”
“I know what’s been publicized. That isn’t the story, that’s the spin. It goes deeper than that. Much deeper, I suspect. We’ve built some trust, Gemma. I can’t help you if I don’t know the truth.”
Gemma tucks a blonde curl behind her ear and nods.
“Let’s find somewhere quiet to talk.”
“Why do I feel like we’ve only scratched the surface?”
“Because most of it lies beneath.”
-TBC
-
Lur
Sub-surface: waystation
Their Lurian hosts have been gracious, giving them space to process what they had gone through. While the injured recovered, Gemma and Taarek are shown to a private area to speak. The small conference room is freezing and a silence has fallen. Her thoughts drift to Riley, their night together, how her heart races for him but she knows there are more important matters at hand. Gemma tells Taarek everything she knows or thought she knew. Her upbringing, the dissonance between her and her siblings, the Jedi and her concerns, her pop star cover plan, suspicions about Dahlia, the original Four, what she knew of the prophecy, the secrecy around her father’s business, seeing Melanie, the death of her parents, her first encounter with the Inquisitor, her ties to Riley, the fight on Corellia, the survival of Circe and Donovan, and now the disappearance of Garron Prescott.
It is not a light load.
The impact is about as she expected.
Gemma does not shy away from accountability and accepts responsibility for the mistakes she made. She knows she didn’t cause this but their actions, hers and others, put this in motion. A part of her feels this has been in motion for years, awakening after a period of hibernation. Now they are being hunted and there is a very real danger for everyone involved, Taarek included.
“Now you know,” she says. “If you want out, this is your chance.”
He smirks, “You think it would be that easy? Like I would even go. I’ve been smuggling Force Sensitives out of Chandaar for a while, long before I knew how deeply this was rooted in your past and your families. I’m on your team. Thank you for trusting me.”
She nods, feeling somewhat relieved. She needed to unburden herself from the information, get it all out there for someone else to help her make sense of. Demaris is keen but she does not want to believe that the Jedi may not have their best interests in mind.
“What of your Master?”
“Gone dark,” Gemma sighs. “We haven’t heard from them in months.”
“And those on Corellia?”
“Secure from what I know.”
“But for how long? It is dangerous harboring them there beneath the nose of the Republic. If they are discovered, it will not end well.”
Gemma levels her gaze, “I know. We have allies there. Senator Soldys, Della Avers, Director Veritaas – high ranking officials within their government. They will keep them safe.”
“You said the vid they played at your concert showed others on Corellia. That alone should have compromised them. It didn’t. That worries me.”
“You think they are lying in wait?”
“This Imperial truce has muddier the waters far darker than I’ve seen. I thought we were past this, that we would never return to this point of indistinguishability. We lost people in that fight – you a sister, me a father – only to wind up back in the same precarious place. Light and dark, right and wrong – everything is grey once again.”
“Demaris and I have to go back. To D’ian.”
“But you said-“
“I know what I said. It’s been compromised. The Inquisitor knows we were there. But the longer we stay away, the more suspicion will grow. We already missed the beginning of term. People will be asking questions.”
Taarek crosses his arms, “Appearances don’t matter anymore.”
“They do,” she says. “So long as we’re visible under the guise of normalcy, it allows us time to figure this out. You said it yourself; Dane is too high profile a target. That would extend to me, Dahlia, and Riley. The worlds are watching whether we like it or not.”
“The fascination with The Four.”
“Exactly.”
“What about Demaris? That does not extend to her.”
“I will protect her.”
“No offense, Gemma, but the Inquisitor nearly killed you twice. Our entire team was nearly killed. Do you really want to take that chance?”
Gemma nods, “It’s me the Inquisitor wants.”
“The Inquisitor wants the Jedi wiped from existence. They are in as much danger as you are.”
She slides the bag with the crystals across the table.
“Then we need weapons.”
-TBC
-
Lur
Sub-surface: waystation
The peace and quiet have done them good.
They heal, train, meditate and reflect. It had been a difficult loss, one that almost cost them more dearly than it did. That fact has settled over them. However, something about the altercation with the Inquisitor has also bonded them. There is a deepening feeling of comradery between them. Even Shendo is warming to a light frost around Gemma and Demaris.
It’s progress.
Lysette has kept a careful watch over Oz as his arm healed, running her small hands over the skin until the ache subsides. Sirona is back at weapons practice. She, Shendo, and Demaris spar with Taarek, keeping up their strength. Alia hasn’t spoken since the attack and keeps mostly to herself. Thank the maker for small miracles. They could all do without her snark for a while. Not that anyone can blame her. For all her bravado, being confronted by something as heinous and terrifying as the Inquisitor struck a chord of fear she never knew she had.
Gemma has spent much time in meditation and knows she must rally the team together. There is a long road ahead but she feels conflicted. There are significant abandonment issues, tying back to her growing resentment of Master Nevylinn and the Jedi’s silence which is very obviously fueled by the untimely death of her parents. She’s gets it. She acknowledges it but this sensibility only marginally diminishes the anguish and confusion. She draws deep, reaching out through the Force for a measure of calm. The sensation is like a gentle breeze that tapers into a sputter. Maybe she’s losing it. Or maybe all those complex emotions are fracturing into a million shards of uncertainty.
Whatever the case may be, Gemma needs to deal.
She sits on the floor in the center of her dimly lit, makeshift quarters. Her breath is steady and then she hears it, a voice she recognizes.
“The doubt is what gets you. Every time.”
Gemma raises her head as the shimmering pale blue of Melanie Masterton’s Force ghost appears before her. She is more transparent now, almost like a whisper of an image crafted in smoke that radiates with a fine glitter.
“Sister. You are stronger and more capable than you think you are, even though it may not seem so right now.”
“We’re in trouble.”
“I see that,” she says, almost amused as if remembering. “We had a knack for trouble too.”
“That did not turn out well.”
“No changing it now. All I want is for you to make better choices than we did.”
Gemma pushes back her blonde curls, “We’re being hunted. The Jedi has been framed for crimes they didn’t commit and the Republic is buying every word of it. Our masters are missing in action, my reputation is trashed and we barely escaped an encounter with an Inquisitor. So, frankly, I don’t think we’re doing that well.”
“That depends on your perspective,” Melanie says. “These setbacks give you an opportunity to look at everything from a different angle. You are going to have to lead this charge.”
“I know but I’m not sure how.”
“There it is again, the doubt. I know that feeling. I felt it too when I questioned the Jedi’s motives for us. They did not intervene when I thought they should but in reality, it was up to us to make our own fates. By then it was too late. It is not too late for you.”
“You know things that can help us.”
“I do.”
“Tell me how our parents died.”
She regrets it the microsecond she asks it but the thought had been bubbling beneath that beautiful surface for a while. There are so many questions surrounding their deaths that no one had dared to ask. She feels they had been pressed with duty at a pace where they never really had time and she suspects there is a reason for that: they will not like the answers they find. Still, she asks.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Melanie says evenly. “None of us have all the answers you seek, only the wisdom to guide you…or lead you astray.”
How strange to think they could be manipulated by their counterparts beyond the grave.
“You mean you and the others.”
“Of course, you are all tied to us just as you will be tied to the next four.”
“The next?”
Melanie moves away, “You are on the right path but need to execute in order to move forward.”
Gemma fingers the bag of crystals, raising her wide blue eyes.
“Our lightsabers? We don’t have the materials.”
“The Lurians will provide it, if you ask them. They are sympathetic to your plight and know you must be able to defend yourselves.”
“Even if they did, I don’t know how to construct a saber myself. Our masters are supposed to show us how as part of our training.”
Melanie’s smile is benevolent and strangely calming.
“Darling sister, why do you think I am here, now, at this very moment? I will show you.”
-TBC
-
Lur
Sub-Surface: Waystation
Gemma’s hands slide over the glossy hilt, thumb activating the device. It hums to life: a blue as infinite as her eyes. Her face is backlit by the glow, features caught in near surprise that she has accomplished such a feat.
“There,” Melanie whispers as her ghost begins to fade. “Now, show the others. Do not be afraid to lead.”
Gemma produces the weapon for the gathered team. They listen raptly as she tells them how it came to be and the Lurians provide all the materials they need. Gemma spends time with each, guiding them as Melanie guided her. They spend days constructing and testing. The vast array of colors is impressive and indicative of their personalities. The team trains with their new weapons, hours upon hours spent improving their fighting styles.
It comes easier to some than others.
Shendo is the most proficient, followed by Alia, Demaris, Sirona, and Oz. Only little Lyssette, trying her best, is more suited for other talents. Taarek assists where he can, impressed that Gemma had been able to find a way where they thought there were none. He should not have doubted her. She is a Masterton, after all. They are more resourceful than cunning with a reputation for compassion and understanding.
Taarek Cirque knows how much this weighs on Gemma. He’s seen, first hand, the horrors that the Force User Registration Act had caused in the Republic. Their numbers dwindle and the path ahead is filled with uncertain challenges. In watching them together, moving as one with their colored blades cutting and spinning through the still air, he finds a hope he thought was lost.
Maybe they have a shot at this after all.
He finds his gaze drifting toward Demaris. She is scrappy and acrobatic in her movements, parrying then attacking with a saber as deep a purple as her hair. They had grown close in their short time together and although he has always had a sense of duty, instilled in him by his father, there are feelings blossoming beneath the surface he cannot deny.
Seneca Cirque had pledged his life to the Republic and to the cause of Jedi Masterton against the Empire and prophecy that held them all within its deadly grip. He had taught his young son, Taarek, to do what is right and to live with honor. Losing him in the Battle of Centerpoint devasted him but he took from that loss the mantle of protecting what is good and right.
The Republic’s truce with the Empire has marred that vision but he found a way forward which led him to the side of another Jedi Masterton. He was never one who fancied himself someone of fate but their paths crossing – like his father and Gemma’s sister – seemed destined.
*
Later that evening, Gemma returns to her quarters after an intense bout of training and a shower. She rummages through her belongings, trying to bring some semblance of order to the chaos they find themselves in. Her com-link slips out of her purse which she absently grabs. It had been off for some time now out of fear they would find them. Gemma shakes her head, knowing that these devices were provided by their father. Rutherford Gellar was not a man to take chances and their coms have always been secure. She powers it on and is bombarded with a deluge of messages, mostly from Dane.
Her brother. He must be going nuts right about now. Or not, depending on his mood. Dane has the Gellar temperament to a tee and it shifts as quickly as the passing of the sun. Gemma should really reach out to let him know they are okay. Goodness knows the Holo like to make a fuss over everything that has to do with them. She owes him that much.
“Gemma?!”
“Hi, Dane.”
“Holy shit,” he snaps. “You blast off with your band of misfits, leave us hanging and all you can say is “hi”?”
“I’m sorry, it’s been-“
“There isn’t time. Listen to me; you need to get back here now.”
“Dane, that may not be-“
“I don’t care if you have to hitchhike across the galaxy, you need to appear on D’ian pronto! Whoever is hunting your asses blew up the lake house. We thought you were fucking dead, Gem. Roman’s family knows Alia is mixed up in all this and has threatened to kill Preston if she’s not returned. You know the Nash’s don’t mince words and always follow through on a threat. To top it off, no one’s found Garron which leaves our guardianship up for grabs…which Vex Sienna is now petitioning for. Are you, like, understanding the magnitude of the situation?”
Gemma’s mouth has fallen open, feeling foolish she never considered the repercussions on those left behind. She never wanted to put Dane in a difficult spot and hoped his plausible deniability would protect him. Now it seems that is not exactly the case.
“Why would Sienna want guardianship of us? I mean, can he ever do that? He’s not a relative or even a close family friend. He has no grounds.”
Dane is beside himself, “Like the Direx Board cares! The Empire has acquired a substantial stake in ChemiX. Irulan kept him from hedging close to the majority shareholder. If he wins this petition, he’ll have my half the company and everything the Empire owns in his pocket. He could do some real damage! And that’s not to mention what he could do to you.”
“Like what?”
“You are wanted for questioning by the Republic and the Empire, through the truce, may just hand you over as a sign of good faith. You told me yourself that they were exterminating the Jedi. Is that what you want? To be exterminated? I don’t think I can bury another family member. Not this close to Prom.”
“Dane…"
“No, Gemma, seriously. Get your ass back here and bring that bitch Alia with you.”
She sighs, “Can you at least stall while I arrange this expedition?”
“Alka, Preston, and Roman are already hounding their parents about the guardianship. Finn Dyre is a sure bet in our favor but D’Ken Dawning and Baltazar Nash aren’t exactly fans. They would love to see us fail. We need to rally the troops and find a way out of this.”
“Let me guess, you have a plan?”
“You aren’t going to like it but yes. Get here. Now.”
He cuts the com and Gemma is left in silence. This could not come at a worse time but Dane is right, this is critically important to their futures. She wonders, darkly, if Garron was taken by the Inquisitor for this very purpose. His absence leaves them exposed, vulnerable in a way she is just now coming to understand. The team isn’t going to love the idea but she hears Melanie’s words echo in her mind.
Don’t be afraid to lead…
…and leading means having to make the tough calls.
-TBC
-
Lur
Sub-surface: Waystation
The team is understandably not keen on the change of plans.
Even though Gemma outlines the “how” and “why,” Taarek is still not sold that separating is the best thing for them right now. The Inquisitor has clearly been to D’ian and destroyed their old training ground. It’s not safe. She knows. No one is disputing that. Dane isn’t safe either and this is something she must do…for the both of them. Just when they are beginning to understand that, Alia interjects with her refusal to accompany Gemma back to the CSA.
“If you don’t, Roman’s parents will kill Preston.”
“Then I guess it’s time to say goodbye to the vicious little waif.”
“Alia,” Gemma says crossly. “I find it difficult to believe that’s what you’d actually want.”
Demaris steps in, offering a more reasoned approach.
“You know that would hurt Roman and regardless of your complex relationship and arranged whatever, he’s still one of your only friends. Someone who truly understands you. Given all we’ve been through and how easily it all could have been taken away, I think you may want to put aside those indifferences and really consider what’s important to you.”
“You all want me gone, that’s what this is about.”
Shendo huffs loudly, Taarek shrugs, Oz and Sirona glance away, and little Lysette pulls her hood down over her face.
Demaris sighs, “No one is saying that-“
“I am,” Gemma says. “I’m saying that. Your resistance to direction is a liability and until you can get that under control you risk the safety of the team. If you want to be a part of this, you can show it by doing the right thing. You will be able to find your way back to us if and when you handle your business.”
Alia rears back, looking ready to strike.
“Looks like someone grew a backbone but I don’t buy it. Humans don’t change like that, you just grasp at your convictions like reeds in the river your mother drown in. They just snap or slip through your fingers and you drift away.”
Gemma’s hand finds the hilt of her saber but she pauses, holding it there.
“Ah, ah, give in to that anger and the Jedi will be so disappointed…if they cared which, by the looks of things, they’ve all but given up on you.”
The stinging statements hang there as the horrified team looks on.
Gemma’s blue eyes are fixed on Alia’s sinister smile.
The tension is thick but the response holds an anguished yet measured tone.
“You are entitled to your opinion but do you know what I think? I think what happened to us on Jedha scared you in a way you never expected. It scared us all. And now you are angry and lashing out because the Inquisitor is something you can’t control. You are used to being in control, using your wit and wiles to manipulate everyone into doing exactly what you want them to. Admittedly, that’s a useful skill – just ask Dahlia. It serves her well. But you know what it doesn’t do? It doesn’t buy you any respect and certainly doesn’t make you any friends. So, do us all a favor, Alia, and drop the act. If there’s anything no one is buying around here it’s your bullshit bravado. Now go pack your things because we’re leaving.”
Alia scoffs then storms off laughing.
Demaris crosses her arms, “I’m not one to condone infighting but she kind of deserved that.”
“Are you coming with us?”
She shakes her head, “I called after we first got here and tested out. Valor Prep will send my diploma to the Atrii estate, not that there’s anyone ever there to get it. I was going to tell you but you seemed so shaken…”
“It’s okay. The more of you that stay together the better but you do realize you are leaving me to face the tribulations of the final month of our senior year alone, right?”
“You’ll do great,” Demaris says. “Besides, you can always call on you-know-who to break up the tedium of all those guardianship woes.”
Gemma grins and they embrace.
“Be safe.”
She says her goodbyes to the team but Taarek walks her back to the shuttle. Alia is already on board, probably fuming and plotting her death. He turns to her and she knows what he’s going to say but she lets him.
“This isn’t a great idea.”
“Probably not but you know it’s what has to be done. I’m not going to risk Dane’s and my future or Preston’s life to stay hidden.”
“It feels like a trap,” Taarek says. “Tell me you see that too.”
“If the Empire is trying to draw me out then it’s a smart way to do it. I’m not oblivious to the timing but I also can’t let it happen either. I’ll set up a contingency if anything were to happen to me so you can get them out.”
“Let’s aim for not having to do that, okay?”
She smiles, “Take care of them.”
“I will.”
Gemma ascends the ramp and hits the controls on the way to the cockpit. One of the passenger cabin doors is closed. She just sighs and shakes her head. Alia can be as hostile as she wants. Deep down she knows they are all fighting the same battles. Gemma falls into the pilots seat, running through the pre-launch systems checks, thinking about all the things she’ll have to do when she gets back. The school is probably furious with her and there is no telling what kind of reception the government offices will have to Vex Sienna’s petition. Dane’s plan better be a good one but, knowing him, it’s going to be a real pain in the ass. There is something to what Demaris said. Ol’ you-know-who. She keys up the media console and taps out a message to Riley, giggling in spite of it all. Just one word.
Prom?
-TBC
-
Hyperspace
Gemma lounges in the cockpit, catching up on the assignments she missed. With any luck, she’ll be able to submit them and test out the same way Demaris did. The swirl of blue and white through the viewport calms her as she collects her thoughts until that peace is disrupted by her reluctant passenger. The door behind her hisses open and Alia appears, wearing next to nothing. Even though it’s damn near freezing it’s not nearly as cold as Csilla.
The tension between them is palpable.
“How far out are we?”
“Oh, are we being civil again or did you have more barbs to trade?”
Alia sighs dramatically, “About that…I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did.”
“You’re right,” Alia says. “I did. And you deserved it. I’m not used to be being bossed around by a human.”
“It would help if you felt the least bit bad about it.”
“I don’t. I don’t feel much of anything, actually. I knew it would hurt you because you are weak. Humans, by definition, are inferior emotionally and mentally to the Chiss. You let your feelings get the best of you and it often, if not always, leads to trouble.”
Gemma swivels around in the chair.
“I’m not going to argue that but the one thing we have control over our responses to those feelings. It doesn’t have to be this way, Alia. If you truly want to harness your connection to the Force you are going to have to try harder than that. Allowing yourself to feel your emotions, understanding them, and controlling your reactions are what makes you whole. It makes you better.”
Alia leans provocatively against the wall.
“Does it? I’m not so sure. Look at what it did to Roman. He was raised among you and now look at him – fearful of his parents because of his feelings for that…boy. I mean, I get it. He’s in love. Love is not a foreign concept to us. It’s just not something that overrules our ability to make both rational and tactical decisions when the time comes.”
“You make it sound like a side effect. Love is greater than that. It can give us purpose and re-frame how we approach our decisions because of how we feel about certain people.”
“Isn’t that a big Jedi no-no? To love? I thought it clouds your ability to see clearly.”
“Only if you let it.”
“Playing it kind of fast and loose with the rules, aren't we? You say that like you have any control over such things. When it comes to those you love you will compromise, blinded by truths that are right in front of you.”
“Don’t you care for Roman?”
“In the most practical sense. Our parents promised us to one another, an arrangement that benefits them more than us. Our houses need this alliance.”
“Let me guess,” Gemma quips. “You could not care less?”
“Bingo.”
“We aren’t that different, Alia. Your people hate you just as mine hates me. Why? Because of our ability to see and feel something deeper than they will ever know. And that scares them. They think we will use it to harm them, to try and gain control over them. So, we must show them there is a different way. We can coexist with each other peacefully, as we have for centuries. Embracing our differences is what makes us stronger.”
“I disagree; In my culture, the strongest and most cunning survive. Fear keeps others in line. I was raised a weapon on many fronts but they did not know what to do when my power was discovered. In some ways, I think it pleased them that my ability gave me an advantage the others did not have but they only know what they glean from the outside and it’s not much. They see the Force as something that deceives or destroys and that simply cannot be. Not when there’s this much as stake.”
“So, you ran? That doesn’t sound as fearsome as you’d like everyone to think you are.”
“I needed space to think.”
“And what conclusions have you drawn?”
“That you don’t even believe in what the Jedi stand for. Not anymore, not after everything that happened. You may think I was out of line but that doesn’t make what I said any less true. Your “masters” abandoned you to remain in hiding, leaving everyone else to find their own way. The sooner you deal with that the better off we’ll all be.”
Gemma slips one leg over the other, “What do you mean?”
“Stop waiting for them to show up and tell you what to do. We all saw you back there; you are perfectly capable of deciding. They look to you for guidance. You got us this far. We’re all still alive, armed, and trained…because of your leadership. This is an admirable quality where I come from. Screw Nevylinn and the others. Who needs them anyway?”
Gemma burst out laughing and Alia, confused by the reaction, smiles awkwardly. She needed this. A sweet release. Everything she pondered that was all bound up in her head laid bare by Alia’s directness. They had gotten this far without Nevylinn, Donovan, or any of the Jedi. They are better for it, thanks to an assist by the spirit of Melanie. She needs to trust herself more. Doubt is hampering her ability to lead and that needs to stop. First, she must mend fences.
“A truce then?”
“I’m listening.”
“If I agree to lean into this new role instead of questioning my every move, will you at least attempt to use measure in your actions?”
Alia considers this then shrugs, “I suppose it wouldn’t kill me to try.”
Gemma smiles and Alia falls into the chair beside her, neither of them really knowing what lies ahead of them in the Corporate Sector.
They were going to find out: together.
-TBC
-
“You never act aloud the way you appear
My every breath awakes alarms in your ears
I'm not confused, it's just you're making me think
Of all our conversations missing their link.”
-Prelow
Hesperidium
Riley’s shuttle flares out hyperspace above the glittering resort world.
As breathtaking as The Hessy is, it is difficult not to notice the rust-colored spectacle in the distance. Gemma feels an ominous wave of dread wash over her yet she cannot tear her gaze from it. There is no rational explanation for what is essentially new Coruscant. Planets do not simply reform after they are destroyed and the multiple physical laws it’s mere existence breaks raises more questions than the seeming miracle answers. Neither she nor Riley has been this deep in the Core before. They are in unfamiliar territory now and the danger is not lost on them.
Using the codes provided by Gemma, they are granted clearance. He guides the shuttle down and across a brilliant seascape. The shimmering ocean draws them in as Riley finds the monolith of the Bolerathon Tower and sets the shuttle down on the Masterton landing pad. The air is clean and salty, bringing a smile to Gemma’s face as she steps off the ramp and crosses the latticed walkway to the exterior door. They enter a massive, circular turret made entirely of transparasteel that narrows into a corridor beyond which lies two doors.
One contains a cursive W and the other, a cursive M.
“Guess this is us.”
She taps in the code and the door hisses open. It would be a lie to say she wasn’t nervous. This place contains parts of her history still unknown to her. Riley follows her inside and allows the door to slip closed behind them. The penthouse is spotless, decorated in an extremely modern style with functional minimalist touches. Gemma runs a hand along the white stone counter, bombarded with emotions that are not entirely her own. Celeste Masterton had rarely spoken of the residence, almost as it had been too painful to remember. It was a symbol of her past, one she could not bear to let go of despite all the anguish it brought her. In a way, Gemma is glad. This makes her feel more connected to her mother and sister but in ways she could not really articulate. Riley allows her space as she takes it all in. He knows this must be strange for her.
The door chimes crisp synth tones rip through the silence, startling them both.
She sighs, moving back through the foyer to find Dane and Alka standing out in the corridor with all their luggage.
“We are so not staying with those Imperial bitches. Mind if we crash with you?”
She nods, stepping side.
“Of course.”
“Wow,” Alka says, moving through and into the living room. “This place is amazing.”
“We’ve only just arrived so what do you say we explore together?"
Dane and Riley scramble off to stake out the bedrooms but Gemma takes Alka’s arm.
“How are you doing?”
“Not great,” she admits. “But I’ll get there. Preston and Roman did not deserve to die and I can’t reconcile that right now. I guess I’ve always known the lengths our families will go to protect the power they have…but it never became real until now.”
“You take all the time you need. I’m here for you.”
Alka smiles wanly, “I know, thank you.”
She doesn’t have the heart to tell her that losing their friends was most likely the catalyst Demaris spoke of, a precursor to Maker only knows what. All they can do is be vigilant and forge onward to whatever may lie ahead.
Dane returns with news of their fantastic sleeping quarters, deferring the master bedroom to Gemma and Riley. Not like the guest arrangements are anything to complain about. There are four bedrooms in each the Masterton and Winton penthouses, eight sleeping quarters in total. Riley hauls their bags inside and everyone gets to unpacking. Gemma opens the place up, allowing the fresh air to sweep any residual stuffiness. The wraparound patio is identical to the one on the other side along the Winton penthouse, offering incredible views out over an ocean so incredible that it seems to stretch into eternity. She grips the railing as the breeze pulls blonde curls across her face, steadying her breath to fortify her for what is sure to be a treacherous path ahead.
She turns and steps back inside, finding Alka and Riley standing on either side of Dane holding a picture with both hands. She is drawn toward them, peering over his shoulder. It is something Dane found in one of the bedrooms and shows a group of smiling teens in front of what appears to be an academic hall. They are staggered on steps, placed almost too perfectly. Everyone seems so happy but a closer look reveals the connections from past to present. Valerie Gellar is leaning against a handsome dark-haired boy with a hand outstretched and intertwined with one of Kimber Patten’s. The others, they realize, must be those they lost in The Event at 500 Republica. Five will die, The Four survive – or so the story goes. In the center of them all, Karen Winton and Melanie Masterton have their arms around each other.
Gemma’s jaw tightens, flashing back to what Dahlia told her.
Melanie killed Karen.
But why? There is surely some context they are not privy to. Dahlia’s captors wouldn’t provide it in order to ensure her feelings toward them remained spiteful. Those plans only carried them so far, it seems, as Dahlia wavers between hate and help. She wonders if Karen did too. How many of them lived on a blade's edge above the moral abyss? The picture unnerves them visibly and so Alka takes it gently from Dane’s hands and returns it to the bedroom.
Riley, Gemma, and Dane exchange glances loaded with emotionally charged questions no one can bring themselves to ask.
All that seems certain is that this place is so much more than it appears to be.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
A few days in, Dahlia proposes a dinner party in the Winton Penthouse.
The group had stayed relatively separate during their staggered arrival and settling in. Now that everyone is here, she thinks its time to mix it up. What could go wrong? Only everything but, she supposes, that’s the point. The wide disparity in personalities would, at the very least, make for interesting conversation.
Trichelle and Ples each claim a room while Quentin and Quinn take Alexia’s old room and Barrett and Dahlia take Karen’s. Inviting friends from high school is certainly risky, given that they had essentially managed to escape any of the horrors that befell others in a similar position. They have no idea what’s going on and she’s counting on their naivete in outside politics to bring some much-needed levity to what’s sure to be a drama-filled summer. Dahlia suspects everyone here has a secret and nothing brings it all to the surface better than dinner and drinks. It’s such a domestic and innocuous concept that she marvels at the potential. Dane, Alka, and Gemma are grieving and she’s not discounting that – Preston and Roman’s deaths hit her too. It was both highly dramatic and needlessly violent but that’s showbiz, baby.
Especially when it comes to The Four.
Quentin, for his part, keeps a wide berth as he is clearly still smarting over the fact that he now reports to her. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have any information to share on Janessa Kain although he claims to have exhausted his connections. To the best of his knowledge, the Empire did not take her which now begs the question: who did? Despite their distance, she and Quentin have an easy rapport, one Barrett finds irritating. They have may be friends from the Tarkin Academy but Quentin’s reputation always got under Barrett’s skin. Quinn floats around in a gorgeous daze, content with the atmosphere and company. She needed a change of scenery anyway. Things were really starting to harsh her mellow back on Chandaar.
The door chimes announce the arrival of the Masterton Penthouse occupants. It’s showtime! Watching everyone meet is like worlds colliding. Alka seems edgy, fragile, and Dane is in a funk (no surprises there), but Gemma presents formally, almost exceedingly cordial. No doubt this boost of civility stems from the presence of Riley Patten, someone with whom she’s not as well acquainted. He seems nice enough, maybe a little quirky and earnest but, then again, he is the son of Kimber Patten. Despite some controversy, Kimber’s legacy was one of idealism and hope. It is something that Riley very clearly shares with subtle, dry humor that gives him an almost mysterious quality. He is handsome, no question about that, and so Dahlia can understand what Gemma sees in him.
Ples and Riley hit it off immediately as they talk about the stats of Chin-Bret players and the odds of certain leagues pulling in greater talent. Trichelle tries to make sense of Quinn, broaching the subject of her modeling career and life in The Menagerie. It seems so glamorous in comparison to the sorority shenanigans and suitor plotting that defines Trichelle’s existence but they strike an uneasy but casual tone.
Dahlia opens the wine, a merciful gesture that does not go unnoticed by Barrett. Better to be lubricated for this. Although he’s made leaps and bounds since she first met him, Barrett has never been entirely comfortable in intimate social situations – probably because he’s never had to be. He only ever deals with military brass and the occasional Senate sub-committee because that minefield is one he knows. But he walks right into this one anyway.
“It’s nice to see you again, Gemma.”
Her head tilts sharply in his direction.
“Really? Considering I’ve been essentially exiled by the Republic I thought for sure you’d have your henchmen ready to shoo me off the landing pad.”
“Isn't that a little presumptuous?"
Dahlia could almost believe him if she didn’t know Barrett was the one who leaked the video of Gemma’s escape from Ambaril with a member of The Concealed, all but ensuring any privileges she held would be revoked. She lets him play this dangerous game.
“I suppose so,” she says evenly. “Given the state of things, I’d be surprised if you had time for anything other than passing those abhorrent policies.”
“Surely you realize I don’t influence legislature that way. My role is one of tactical assistance and maintaining the peace between our factions.”
“I think you may need to revisit your definition of peace.”
Quentin laughs, “Oh, she’s feisty. I like that. How come you weren’t this feisty back at Valor Prep?”
Riley makes a face, “You went to VP?”
“Barely,” says an extremely moody Dane. “He was there for, like, five microseconds and spent all of them hitting on Dahlia.”
Barrett’s eyes narrow into slits but Dahlia laughs while purposely avoiding Quentin’s gaze.
“He hit on everyone, Dane. Don’t be such a grump.”
“Our friends are fucking dead, Dahlia.”
This chokes off the conversation and she resists the urge to strangle him through the Force but, ever the socialite, Trichelle interjection a little empathy.
“You must all be hurting. We’re so sorry for your losses.”
“Yeah, man,” Ples says. “That’s rough. Hopefully, they get that bastard.”
Quinn looks confused, “Get who?”
“Something about treason in the Corporate Sector,” Quentin says.
“Oh. Right.”
“And murder.”
“Dane,” Alka warns.
“What? I’m coping.”
Dahlia tries to keep it light, enjoying the complicated dynamic of their extremely differing perspectives.
“Appropriately, from what I gather of your lineage. Who’s hungry?”
They eat in relative silence as it had gotten later than expected. That’s the thing about dinner parties. Sometimes the evening just gets carried away. The cool, ocean breeze keeps everyone comfortable but it is not long before the alcohol loosens everyone up.
Quinn leans forward, those wide blue eyes fixed on Gemma, “I have to admit, I’m totally fangirling over here. Your album was amazing and I speak for a lot of people when I say that we’re devastated you’re not touring anymore. I mean, I know your last show ended in, like, disaster or whatever but you’ve got a lot of fans out there.”
Riley smiles. Dahlia rolls her eyes.
Gemma handles it gracefully, “That’s very sweet, thank you. I’m just…taking some time to focus on other things.”
“Right on…”
Alka excuses herself and steps across the hall to grab a shawl. From this height, the coastal evenings could be a bit chilly. She pulls the garment around her tightly, wishing herself back to the night when she and her friends were together and happy. Back out in the corridor, she moves toward the door marked with the cursive W when she hears a whisper.
“Alka”
There is movement, or at least she thinks there is; a glimpse of someone out in the turret. She follows but finds nothing. As she approaches the center, she hears a giggle and whirls around. A shock of blonde hair, the glint of light off heart-shaped sunglasses, and the faintest of glimmers of a face no one has laid eyes on in over a year: Muriel.
Alka returns to the corridor but there is no one there.
-TBC
-
“Oh, and you're dancing to the sound
Of your demons falling down
And our past is going up in flames (flames)
The future will be rearranged.”
-Years & Years
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Trichelle and Ples step off the lifts after a long day down on Imperial Beach. The corridor is cool and feels nice against their sun-kissed skin. As they near the penthouse doors, they see someone out in the center of the turret by the far windows that provide unobstructed views of the ocean below. Growing closer, the figure comes into view. At first, they think it is Dane with the dark hair but they see those classic red streaks. It is the jacket that really gives it away.
“Dude,” Ples calls. “Tobias! Where ya been?”
Trichelle rolls her eyes but follows him into the turret but the moment they step inside, they find themselves alone. He turns to her.
“You saw him, right? I’m not, you know, crazy?”
“Debatable,” she says. “But yes, I saw him too.”
“Maybe we got more sun than we thought.”
She flips her hair back and sighs.
“Sunstroke is not sexy. Let’s douse it with a cocktail. You know, Dahlia has a bottle of Idlewil liquor in there.”
“Is that really the best idea?” he laughs. “I mean, it could be dangerous.”
A man in an Imperial uniform walks past them.
“More dangerous than you know.”
They both gasp, jumping back. There is no sign of him. This is officially full-fledged weirdness. Trichelle turns and runs for the Winton Penthouse door, bursting into the room with Ples trailing closely behind. They skitter across the foyer and down into the sunken living room. Dahlia and Barrett are in the kitchen but glance up as they enter.
“There’s something out there. I mean, we saw something!”
“Someone, actually.”
“Two someone’s!”
Dahlia glares at them, rounding the corner holding two martini glasses, "You both look super burnt. Are you sure your brains didn’t get toasted on the beach?”
“I’m serious, Dahlia. There were people out there.”
"I thought this was a restricted floor," Barrett says casually.
“It is,” she says. “So, the only way others could get up here is if they came up here with…you.”
Ples and Trichele exchange horrified glances, failing to adequately describe what happened. Dahlia hands the glasses to them.
“I’m sure a namantini will make you forget all about it.”
“Aren’t these addictive?”
Quentin breezes in from the patio, “Only if you’re a pussy.”
“Can it, Q.”
Quinn strides in behind him, throwing herself across one of the couches with sunglasses still on, unamused by the commotion.
He smirks, “Eat me, princess. What’s the deal with you guys?”
“If you could not insult my girlfriend that would be great,” Barrett says sharply. “Ples and Trichelle say they saw people out on the floor.”
“Hot people?”
“Well,” Ples begins. “Objectively….”
“Does it matter?”
“It might,” Quentin says, moving toward the door. “Let’s check it out.”
Out in the corridor, Quentin walks around with his arms outstretched.
“Come out, come out, where ever you are!”
Nothing happens. No one answers.
“That’s the thing,” Trichelle says. “They kind of…you know…disappeared.”
Everyone’s face falls and Quentin groans.
“Oh, boy. Whatever it is you guys are on, you’d better share.”
Alka and Dane exit from the Masterton Penthouse, joining them in the corridor.
“What are you guys doing?”
“Looking for ghosts apparently.”
“I know how it sounds,” Trichelle says. “But we saw them. Some guy in an Imperial uniform…”
“…and Tobias Harken,” Ples finishes.
Dahlia stiffens, “Tobias?”
“Well, I thought I saw Muriel the other night if that makes you feel any better.”
Quentin and Dahlia avoid each other’s stares.
“We haven’t seen or heard from them in over a year,” Dahlia says evenly. “Are you sure it was them?”
Alka nods, “Pretty damn sure.”
“Wouldn’t you have been notified if they requested to land?” Barrett asks, sensible as always. “I mean, Dahlia would have to clear them, right?”
“Or Gemma,” Dane says snidely. “She does own the place, after all.”
Dahlia glares at him spitefully, the mere fact of the matter incensing her.
“I think she would have, at the very least, mentioned it. She knows we’ve been worried about them.”
Barrett sighs, “Aren’t there security cams everywhere? We can check those to settle this.”
Dahlia would be worried if she didn’t know Quentin had his team scrub the photage from the night of Muriel and Tobias’ murders. There should be nothing incriminating on any of them.
“Of course, we can pull it up inside.”
Gemma and Riley walk off the lifts as they are heading into the Winton Penthouse, following behind the group. Dane catches them up and Gemma denies having been in contact with Muriel beyond when she was last on D’ian. Dahlia accesses the security cams for this floor and finds the file for the night of the dinner party. It’s mostly uneventful after Gemma and company join everyone in the Winton Penthouse but she slows it down after Alka leaves to get her shawl. They see her coming out and stop. Switching to another angle, there is a blurred shape out in the turret that is not there when Alka moves through the space. The blur appears again near the corridor but vanishes just as quickly.
They scan through the following days to find several blurs appear, disappear, and reappear in various places on the floor. No one enters or exits the lifts during these times, some of which are in the dead of night. Some of the blurs wander the corridor while others collect in the turret. The photage from earlier this morning shows several blurs, seven maybe eight separate entities, forming a circle in the turret. They vanish as soon as Trichelle and Ples step out into the corridor and head for the lifts.
“Okay weird,” Quentin says. “But it doesn’t prove anything, especially if we can't see anything. It could be faulty equipment, a smudge on the lens, whatever.”
Gemma disputes him, “If that were true, we would see these blurs regardless of the time which isn’t the case. These very clearly appear at different points in time. Can you show us earlier this afternoon when they came back?”
Dahlia nods, skipping ahead until she finds the point when Trichelle and Ples return. A blur appears in the turret, just as they had said. They can see them become aware of it, Ples even calling out but it disappears when they approach. Trichelle and Ples talk and a blur appears to pass them, startling them both.
“Stop it,” Riley says. “Right there. See?”
Dahlia taps the controls, freezing the image.
"What the hell is that?"
"Is that...a face?"
"Holy shit."
Through the blur, they can make out the shoulder of an Imperial uniform and the face of a man. She tries to zoom in as much as it will allow and there is very clearly a man’s face, defined jawline, dark hair, with features that look…familiar.
"That's definitely a someone."
Barrett grabs his datapad, “Send me the image. If he’s an Imperial agent he’ll be in our database. I can run a facial scan to confirm.”
Dahlia snips a square around the man’s face and sends it to Barrett.
“Give me a moment, I’m running it now.”
Everyone glances between each other, a shared sense of dread washing over them. Dahlia knows bad things happened here but she did not anticipate any lingering energy. Why now? She’s been here before, often for extended periods of time, and she hasn’t seen anything. Her gaze travels across to Dane, Gemma, and Riley – the other three members of The Four. Could it be that these energies only manifest in the presence of all of them? As far as she can tell, their counterparts – Karen, Melanie, Kimber, and Valerie – have appeared to them individually. What if their collective energies, Force-sensitive, and touchstones, as the prophecy allegedly called them, can cause those that died in connection to them to manifest? This is not a line of thought she wants to pursue.
Quinn finally glances up from the couch, "The suspense is literally killing me. So your place is haunted? It's kind of cool actually."
“Got it,” Barrett says, ignoring her and turning the device toward them.
Navris, Mod. Imperial Security Bureau. Deceased. Dossier classified.
The name rings a bell, sending murmurs through some of them. It had appeared in the documentary as well the movie series based on it. Liberties had been taken, of course, but the ties were factually confirmed. It’s on record. Riley goes entirely pale. Gemma clutches his arm as it dawns on Dahlia who that is.
“Riley,” she whispers. “That’s…your father.”
-TBC
-
“You smiled at the sunrise
Longed for a last night
Baby you know
The diamond days are done.”
-Cruel Youth
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
Awkwardness ensues.
In the days following the strange reveal, some are hoping to write it off while others feel it deserves further exploration. Riley is stunned and confused. How could the ghost of his father be here? He retreats to the Masterton Penthouse where he remains in a quiet reflection. Gemma comforts him as best she can although she has her own questions, questions that Alka and Dane are more than happy to pursue.
However, the files on Mod Navris are classified as are most of the official documentation on anyone connected to the original Four. The documentary went only so far and the Holo-flick series takes so many creative liberties for the sake of a skewed narrative that no one can really tell what may actually be true. There are some similarities; Navris was part of a team that had Karen Winton forced on them as part of a stint as Imperial diplomat. That part always seemed strange – a spoiled socialite seemingly miscast as some kind of benevolent emissary. It had some successes as she negotiated Contruum’s alliance with the Empire which later held disastrous consequences for their former governor, Indew Strye and became the orbital grounds for a standoff with the Hapan Consortium. This is how, it is claimed, that Mod Navris met Kimber Patten. Their relationship was forbidden and was the second of two fated romances with Patten that ended in murder. Or so the story goes.
Dane pounds on the console, blowing air through clenched teeth.
“This is pointless. All we have is heavily disputed media. The Corellian reporter who gathered the intel is hardly reputable and those films are a joke.”
Alka tries to find a silver lining, “His sources included firsthand accounts from Melanie Masterton and Kimber Patten. That’s got to count for something.”
“The Holo is full of stories about how the Empire denied everything.”
“Of course, they would,” Gemma says. “They manipulated teenage girls into a galaxy-wide power play that cost countless lives.”
“I didn’t know he died here. Riley’s father.”
“How would you? Those things came out when we were infants. We only knew about them at all because Muriel’s mother played our mother in the series. But it makes sense if what the documentary says is true. Navris’ first team was destroyed on the Abyss but his second team was murdered here, in the Bolerathon Tower.”
“Not just here,” Alka says, pointing at the door. “Across that hall, in the Winton Penthouse. And they’re not the only ones. This place is filled with death. We’re staying in what is essentially a graveyard for the whims of your sister and her friends.”
It stings but it’s true.
“I’m sorry, Gemma. I didn’t mean that-“
“It’s okay,” she says softly. “You are right. It was foolish coming here, especially after….after…”
She doesn’t have to finish. The wounds of Preston and Roman’s deaths are still raw and would be for some time. This development only serves as a distraction from their pain yet it is one that is now worth their effort. Riley is hurting and Gemma wants answers.
“I’ll be back. Stay with Riley.”
“Where are you going?”
“To see if our Imperial friends can shed some light on anything.”
Gemma steps across the corridor and enters the Winton Penthouse, her stride is purposeful and determined. There are no signs of Quentin or Quinn and someone is taking a shower. She finds Barrett out on the balcony, staring out across the ocean below.
“I need to talk to you.”
He turns but does not look surprised, “I figured. How’s Riley?”
“Traumatized, obviously. And please don’t pretend you care. It’s cheap.”
“Always assuming things, aren’t you, Gemma? You don’t know me.”
“I know you can’t be trusted.”
Barrett’s features are tight around that chiseled jaw, “Even after I found out who killed your parents? I thought that bringing the three of you some kind of closure would establish some trust between us.”
“For Dahlia, sure. Dane, maybe.”
“And you?”
“It only leads to more questions.”
“Shoot.”
Gemma swallows, realizing she is here now so she’d better make it count.
“How did you even discover it was Vex Sienna?”
“It wasn’t that difficult to connect the dots, Gemma. He was romantically linked with Karen Winton who shut him down in favor of an Emperor. Sienna was obsessed. Once they were gone, he saw this as an opportunity and sought revenge.”
“A spurned Imperial agent murdering the parents of his dead lovers’ friends’ siblings? That’s a bit of a reach as far as motives go.”
“That's because you aren't looking at it from a tactical perspective. It wasn’t just about Karen. It was about all of them. The Four. You can’t stand there and tell me you really don’t know the power your names actually have. Sienna must have known that being able to control even a few of you could give him valuable leverage.”
“To whom?”
“Name it. The Empire, the Republic, the Hapan’s, anyone who was caught in their crossfire all those years ago. Anyone could bargain for power with you four in the palm of their hand. Riley’s parents were already gone, as were Dahlia’s. Celeste Masterton and Rutherford Gellar were the last two obstacles in his way. Think, Gemma. The guardianship would have sealed the deal and he could have used it to manipulate Dahlia and Riley. He would have had all four of you exactly where he wanted you.”
She is horrified by even the thought of it and even more so by the fact that he is right. They were so close to being in the Empire’s clutches. Gemma stares into his face, searching for some expression that would reveal an ulterior motive.
“Why? Why would you stop him if you knew what kind of advantage that would give the Empire?”
“Because I love her, Gemma. I wouldn’t let Dahlia or her family be slaves to Sienna’s whims.”
“How noble.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Not entirely, no. You stand to gain just as much from controlling us as he did.”
Barrett crosses his arms, knowing she is as stubborn as she is clever.
“What do I need to do to prove it to you?”
She smiles, barely, those blonde curls caught in the breeze.
“Use your access to help us find out what happened here and why."
“Gemma, I’m not-“
“You are Emperor Schrag’s proxy in the Republic, Barrett. You have access and authority no one else does. So, let’s put it to good use. You uncovered the truth for us and Riley deserves to know what really happened to his father.”
“Even if you may not like what I find?”
She raises her head, defiant, recalling Dahlia’s quip about what happened between Karen and Melanie in the end.
“Not all truths are pleasant but it sure beats being lied to.”
Barrett considers something the nods, “As you wish, Lady Masterton.”
-TBC
-
“Is it me? Is it you?
Can I trust myself? I need somehow
I'm fine don't ask
The truth is. The nightmares underneath, it's useless
Oh well, who cares? The truth is the monster in my head is ruthless”
-The Moth & The Flame
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
“Are you insane?”
Barrett leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed as Dahlia carefully dabs on a frosted lipstick. He shrugs, irritating her, but he doesn’t see the point in her objections.
“Helping Gemma is like helping the Jedi, Barrett.”
“Aren’t they all but extinct these days?”
“Pretty much.”
“Then why does it matter? She asked for my help and, to be fair, I’d be freaking out too if I were Riley. I’m curious to know now.”
She sighs, “It’s not like you can just pull the photage from, like, twenty-some years ago.”
“That’s not entirely true.”
Dahlia straightens, turning to face him.
“What do you mean?”
He weighs his options here, knowing what he does about her and their current situation. Emperor Schrag allowed Dahlia to take Vex Sienna out in exchange for Dane Gellar’s blood. He was told Gellar’s genetic material contained something they wanted although the context of which was vague at best. Her victory in the guardianship would be short-lived as both Dane and Gemma would turn eighteen in the late fall. Somehow, she managed to wrangle the Four in one place, exactly as the Emperor wanted. There were no directives beyond that, no specific instructions on what Dahlia was to do with her newfound powers of attorney.
They have even more leverage than Vex would have had in their position but he meant what he told Gemma. He loves Dahlia and doesn’t want to see her a pawn in anyone’s game. Her sisters weren’t so lucky and that turned out terribly for everyone. However, his access allows them a deeper look into the Winton familial history and that is not a place he is certain she wants to go. He's not even sure what he'll find if he peeks into that black hole or if what she's shown him is really who she is. Still, he finds himself drawn into her mazes.
“The files from that time period were confiscated.”
“Celeste Masterton would never have let that happen.”
“From what I gathered, there was a lapse between the transfer of ownership of the Bolerathon Tower from Henrick Masterton to his wife. One was presumed dead, and the other missing. The Empire got the files before Celeste resurfaced in the Corporate Sector.”
“That’s bullshit. My real father built this place. It should be mine.”
“Officially, it was a joint venture between Masterton and Winton. An even split. When your parents were killed in that Bakuran speeder crash, ownership defaulted to Masterton. Celeste was just the next in line as was Gemma. You weren’t officially provisioned, only Karen and Alexia were.”
She smirks, knowing full well her father didn’t die in that crash. Adubell showed her that much. Now the same quest for immortality continues at the hands of Emperor Schrag. He doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into if what Adubell showed her is any indication. Nothing but horror and repeated death await those who possess the legacy gene. Barrett is tempting fate by digging into the Winton's...and that excites her.
“Thanks for sharing. How does that and your stolen photage help Gemma?”
“Not sure yet,” he says. “I haven’t gone through it all but I do know both of Riley’s parents were here the night his father died.”
She brushes up against him, “Ooo, how mysterious.”
“Dahlia, I combed over the photage from the other night. There were what appeared to be several other Imperial agents wandering your halls. All of them died here.”
“So? This place was a bloodbath once upon a time."
“So, some of the other guests claimed to have seen friends of yours that have been missing for some time. It makes you wonder.”
Quentin is hollering from the foyer, rounding everyone up for a night out. Trichelle and Ples join them as does a rather faded looking Quinn. Dane and Alka would meet them at the club but Gemma understandably would stay behind with Riley. Dahlia runs a finger down his chest then saunters away slowly in those heels.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
Beams of colored light swirl over the writhing bodies on the dancefloor of Club Hex.
They needed this. A night out. There is so much tension that yearns for sweet release. A collision course. Dahlia couldn’t find the right moment to clue Quentin in on Barrett’s little investigation. His query would not lead to good things, that much she’s certain of.More than likely, Riley’s father met a grisly end. At least that’s what was implied in the Holo-doc. The big production of the story – The Coruscant that Was – displayed lots of gore on the set of the Winton Penthouse but left much to the imagination. It showed Karen and Kimber discover the scene in all its blood-soaked glory but only flashes of the bodies. There wasn’t any context either, only that this team had been murdered to teach them a lesson: none of them were safe. The singular detail on any of the agents was the doctor, Felicia Kensington, who had been slain aboard the princess’ flagship and staged for Karen to find in her penthouse. It was brutal but effective. There was a lot of screaming.
Dahlia knows Barrett’s heart is in the right place but asking questions about Muriel and Tobias may very well change that. He’s already made the link; those that were killed in the Bolerathon Tower remain there, trapped in some kind of spirit form. Had they really been here this whole time? Now, only with all four of them together, can they be seen. Something about their collective energy bends the laws they think they know. Dahlia doesn’t want him to know about her and Quentin’s drug-fueled murder spree. How sad for Muriel and Tobias…the two that were going to escape it all find themselves anchored to the tower forever.
Barrett sips what could be his forth or fifth cocktail from a private lounge, watching Dahlia, Quentin, and Quinn dance together. Dane, Alka, Ples, and Trichelle called it a night hours ago and wishes he’d done the same. He isn’t really into this scene. It’s much too chaotic for him. Barrett prefers the order of the negotiating, planning out detailed strategies to make good on the promises the Empire made. He’d won over hardened senators left and right. Their borders were more secure than ever but Gemma does bring up an interesting point – there was a price. There always is. The Republic is highly regulated with an anti-Force User sentiment that has bordered on paranoia. That was by design, of course. Gemma can’t go near the capital and therefore would not interfere with their plans.
Quentin is another story.
Although Dahlia is with Barrett, she seems more at ease with Quentin. It is as if he knows her better than he ever could and that troubles him. His jealousy is immature, he knows, but he can’t help it. He knows Dahlia isn’t telling him the whole story which drives the feeling that they are hiding something from him. He has been as open as he can with her despite Emperor Schrag’s cautioning against the Winton motives. Her personal branding aside, which rivals that of Karen, he wonders how much of Alexia lurks beneath that beautiful surface. The eldest Winton sister was always portrayed as the crazy one. Schrag told him that it was their fathers meddling that turned her into what she was. Dahlia is always so cagey when it comes to her biological family as if she is intent on replacing their legacy with her own. Both Karen and Alexia held a terrifying power, a power that has spawned rumors over the years he has difficulty fathoming. Tossing a Star Destroyer out of orbit through the Force? Come on. Murdering a professor and destroying an entire floor of their high school? Yeah, right.
Yet, there is mounting evidence to the contrary. He assumed Vex Sienna was her first kill but now he’s not so sure. He pulled the vids from the previous summer and found them clean. A little too clean. He knows Imperial work when he sees it. Dahlia and Quentin were both here during that time and any manipulations to the photage would indicate there was something to conceal.
They leave the club in the early morning hours, returning to the Bolerathon Tower. In the lift, Quentin pulls a squealing Quinn close with one hand while the other brushes brazenly up Dahlia’s thigh. He’s drunk, Barrett tells himself. They both are but that doesn’t stop him. He pushes Quentin’s hand away and shoves him back against the wall. Quinn moves toward a startled Dahlia and Quentin throws his arms up.
“What the fuck, man?”
“Don’t touch her.”
“Hey!” Dahlia snaps. “I can speak for myself, thank you very much.”
Barrett and Quentin are locked in an intense stare that signifies this is happening anyway. Quentin takes the first shot, the cheap bastard, but it’s all Barrett needed to go. They grapple in the lift, slamming each other against opposite walls. The scuffle is short and ends with them panting and glaring at one another.
Quinn yawns, “Boy, boys.”
“Knock it off. This isn’t like you, Barrett.”
“Yeah, what’s your problem, B?”
“You are, Q. There’s something between you.”
“Who?”
“You and Dahlia. The two of you are hiding something.”
Mercifully, the lift doors hiss open but for a long moment, no one moves.
“I like hiding,” Quinn says dreamily, sliding between them. “I hide from myself all the time.”
Quentin pops the collar of his leather jacket and follows her out. Barrett trails him and Dahlia rolls her eyes but follows. The corridor is eerily quiet with no sign of their spectral interlopers. He isn't about to let this go.
“You aren’t denying it.”
“Nothing to deny.”
“Really? Then why do your friends from high school appear with the apparent ghosts of long-dead Imperial agents who were killed in this tower? Something tells me you know.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know what I saw,” Barrett says. “We learned the same scrubbing techniques at Academy, remember? You wiped the photage and I want to know why.”
“Why don’t you ask your girlfriend.”
“Barrett, you don’t understand…”
“That’s right, B. You don’t understand – her or anything else.”
“And you do?”
“Yeah, maybe I do. Better than you.”
“That’s rich, coming from the one who killed her parents.”
Quentin’s face falls, “You motherf-“
“What are you even saying right now? You told me Vex Sienna did.”
“Vex did the deed but who do you think gave him the order?”
Quentin and Dahlia turn to face each other and there is hatred in her eyes. The emerald color pulses brightly then darken into blackness. Never a good sign. His heart is pounding because he knows that whatever glimmer of feeling she may have had for him has been stomped out in just thirteen words. And she would make him say it.
“Is…that true?”
Quentin’s jaw is tight but he won’t lie to her, “It’s tru-“
She slaps him, hard and quick, cutting off his words. The air around them seems to ripple as she uses her power to lift and toss him down the corridor. Quentin doesn’t scream as he hits the slick floor, tumbling into a slow skid. She stalks toward him but Quinn darts forward, slamming and pinning Dahlia against the wall.
“Dahlia, enough.”
Her gorgeous face is slack and stern with a speed and strength no one was expecting. They have never seen her activated before and the impact is appropriately unnerving. Looks like the nano-tech they procured from ChemiX was worth the investment. No one expects the sullen model to be a sleeper. Quinn eases off and takes a step back, allowing Barrett to continue.
“Tell me what happened.”
“They’re dead,” Dahlia whispers. “Both Muriel and Tobias. I lost control of my powers and Quentin covered it up.”
The confirmation calms something in him although the fact that she turned to Quentin and not him still stings. He was here, Barrett was not. Up until recently, part of his orders involved keeping an eye on her. Now he knows why.
“Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you.”
She knows that now, she’s known it all along but something kept her from confiding in him. Feelings for a person she should never have placed faith in. A person she's covering for now. Quentin murdered Tobias. They share this burden and although she is furious with him now, she's more furious with Barrett.
Dahlia takes a breath before turning to him.
“Plausible deniability which you no longer have. A part of me doesn’t want you to think of me the same way the Empire does, as a liability that cannot be trusted. There is a lot I can control. I’ve trained in some form every day since my kidnapping. But there is something deeper, darker underneath that I…don't understand. The Emperor fears it. I saw it in his eyes on Byss. I don’t want to see the same thing in yours.”
Barrett extends a hand, “Never.”
She stares at it but does not take it, finally raising her eyes to meet his.
“I don’t know if I believe that.”
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
The club is complete madness and Alka has had enough. She expected nothing less. This is the infamous Club Hex, a place where The Four once ruled the dancefloor. It’s no wonder the crowds came out in full force when they heard about the second coming. The media was all over their entrance with Dahlia in the lead. Of course. They are like accessories to her or at least that’s what it seems. Dane is wasted and she’s ready to go. Thankfully, Ples is also over it and the four of them leave the others behind.
Trichelle is about to barf so Ples rushes her back into the Winton Penthouse with a hasty goodnight. Dane and Alka stumble across the hall into the Masterton Penthouse, finding a scene they were not expecting. An ambient glow casts an array of shadows, distorting their movement. There are candles lit everywhere and they find Riley kneeling in the center of the living room. Gemma appears dressed in a gauzy white gown.
“What…is going on?”
“A séance, of course. Time to find some answers.”
“I thought you had Barrett on that,” Dane slurs, smirking.
“I don’t trust Barrett. And neither should you.”
“We don’t,” Alka says. “It’s just, well, this seems…extreme, don’t you think?”
Riley turns to look at them, “More extreme than seeing my dead father, a father I never met, lurking around this place? We can't trust the Imperial's will tell us the truth anyway, not if they were involved.”
Alka and Dane exchange glances, shrug, then join them to complete the circle. Gemma kneels and closes her eyes, drawing deep as the Force flows through her. They join hands. She has connected to everything around her and the rush of emotions is both jarring and comforting at the same time. She expands her radius outward, seeking the spirits haunting these halls. She finds one then another, a rush of cold pulsing through her.
“They are angry,” she whispers.
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“Dane, focus.”
“Mod Navris…if you are there, you have nothing to fear from us. I am here with your son.”
The silence prickles with static, building tension around them. A sound one would find difficult to identify permeates through the walls, slowly growing into a low, guttural hum.
“Reveal yourself. You are safe here.”
A form materializes in the center like a combination of smoke and pixelized color that begin to take shape. A man in an Imperial uniform, charcoal gray with black accents. The unmistakable wheel sigil is emblazoned on his arm. His face is unfamiliar to them but instantly recognizable. Riley may have his mother’s nose and eyes but he also has his father’s jawline and chin.
“Father…”
“Son?” Mod says. “I…never knew. Your mother? Where’s Kimber?”
Riley’s face falls and he shakes his head.
“Gone. Many years ago. I never knew her but she has appeared to me before."
Dane makes a noise. So, the ghost of Kimber appeared to Riley just as Valerie had appeared to him. Guess they all got visits from the specters of poor choices past. Mod gazes around the circle, lingering on the faces of Gemma and Dane.
“You are them. Masterton. Gellar.”
His vacant eyes return to Riley.
“And Patten. Where is Winton?”
“On Hesperidium but not here, why?”
“A new Four, a new game. Five will die. The Four survive.”
Dane gasps incredulously, “What the hell is he talking about?”
“The prophecy,” Gemma says. “It was not fulfilled. They all died and the child lived. That child is your son, Riley. He stopped everything from coming to pass.”
“No,” Mod says, his voice distorted. “It was just incomplete.”
“There’s more? Bloody hell."
“Another piece. One the father of Winton could never find.”
“A scroll?”
His figure dims, flickering into the shadows stretching across the room.
“An amulet, forged in the place of the prophecy but hidden on the world of an ancient order."
Riley’s heart is racing, his mind not understanding what his father was telling them. That prophecy killed their predecessors and everyone around them. Not a great clue to know the past is not at rest, nor would it be until they had all played their parts. Right now, he needs to know about his father.
“How are you here?”
Mod glances down at his son, “We were betrayed by one of our own. Agent Guile. They wanted Karen’s power, a dark and terrible abomination, and they knew I was going to run away with Kimber. To protect her. They could never have that. Gellar was dead and Masterton had amassed allies in the Jedi. We, our team, were liabilities that had come to care for them. Nothing could stop their plan and so Agent Guile eliminated us and we’ve been doomed to walk these empty halls for eternity.”
Gemma raises her eyes, “We can free you. All of you. You do not have to suffer for their sins any longer.”
“Masterton,” Mod whispers. “You would do us great honor if you could but know that you are in danger. It comes for you. For them.”
“Who?”
“You know who. It will not stop because it is of you.”
“Wait,” Dane nearly shouts. “What about Muriel and Tobias? They were never part of your little team. Why are they here?”
“The newest of us were murdered here too.”
“When?”
“Time no longer has meaning but you cannot free us. Not without the forth.”
“Oh shit,” Dane mutters. “We need Dahlia.”
Gemma nods, “I promise. For Riley. We will set you all free.”
Mod turns once more to look at Riley, a faint smile creasing his solemn face.
“I never knew you, son but know that I love you.”
He chokes back a sob and nods, “I love you too.”
Mod’s form fades just as the candle flames flare high before being extinguished with a collective hiss. The tendrils of smoke curl through the air as Riley breaks down, falling onto his hands. It is overwhelming and wonderful and horrifying. Too many things to feel at once. Gemma comforts him but shoots a look across the circle at Dane and Alka. She does not have to say it to know what the look means.
Muriel and Tobias are dead. They came here on holiday but never left. According to Mod’s warning, that would bring the body count up to four – Muriel, Tobias, Preston, Roman – so who’s next?
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Imperial Beach
Tense does not even begin to cover it.
Their aura's positively dripped with suspicion, blame, and disdain. There are a lot of awkward silences as the beautiful creatures spread out across the deserted white sand shores of Imperial Beach. It’s not like there isn’t a good reason because Dahlia knew it would end up like this. Not exactly at each other’s throats but close. There is something almost sexy about the restrained rage and unspoken accusations. Dahlia smiles at it all despite her annoyance and frustration. She's pissed at everyone right now but no one is blameless here.
Riley seems at peace after his encounter with his father’s spirit. Noticeably so. He’s not exactly back to his quirky self but something has crystalized for him. This is as close to closure as he was going to get so he takes the win and tries to be grateful. Master Donovan had taught him that. There are so many things they take for granted, so much that they have others are denied. It was only some time after the fact that Riley realized some of the other things his father told them.
Five will die.
He’s heard it before. They all have. It was part of their legend. Everyone around the original Four was systematically exterminated. Their group of friends murdered several times over. Riley glances at and then over Gemma’s sculpted body to Alka and Trichelle splashing around in the clear water, Ples and Dane walking along the shore, Dahlia beneath a circle of shade staring out from behind giant black sunglasses, Barrett on his stomach sunning himself, and Quentin and Quinn kissing over a poorly made sandcastle. He may not like every single one of them but he doesn’t want to see any of them die.
Gemma isn't the only one who did the math. Four down, one to go. That is, if they really believe what his father told them. Dane thinks it’s impossible that Mod Navris, who died relatively early in their saga, would know about the concluding piece to the prophecy. As an Imperial agent, it’s unclear how much he actually knew. He was Security not Intelligence. Still, one more death on the list would mean that one of them may not make it off Hesperidium. Kind of like Muriel and Tobias.
If the Four survive then Alka, Barrett, Ples, Quentin, Quinn, and Trichelle have targets on them.
The larger threat than the kill count is the cause and motive. They knew how Preston and Roman died. There was context. For all anyone knew, Muriel and Tobias had been gallivanting across the galaxy for the past year. Instead, they were here, trapped in the Bolerathon Tower with everyone else who had been murdered on the very top floor – a collection of ghosts without any particular place to go. Is the killer among them?
Triggered by the revelation and still reeling from the loss of Preston and Roman, Alka demanded they confront the others. She wanted to march across that hall and have it out in the middle of the night. Dane was drunk and useless and Riley was emotionally distraught so Gemma talked her off that ledge. It wouldn’t be wise to go in there with accusations that could be so easily discounted. Not everyone may roll with the ghost-dad-drops-the-knowledge bit. Riley knows they need more than that and he knows damn well that Barrett isn’t about to give anything up that would incriminate Dahlia or the Empire. They would get the standard Imperial company line.
Gemma is more concerned about what is supposedly coming for them. She knows the Inquisitor would not stay in that cave forever. What she doesn’t know is how it is “of” them. It almost sounded like they somehow created it but that cannot be true. The Inquisitor operates on the orders of someone even if she doesn’t think that someone is here in the Hessy. Then there is the issue of the amulet, the piece of the prophecy that managed to stay out of reach this whole time. What does it mean? What can the amulet do? This other piece of the prophecy was never mentioned in any version of The Four’s story. She wonders if Dahlia knows about this as she’d already been tight-lipped about her knowledge of the Inquisitor’s mask. She is not the sharing type unless the threat extended to include her as well. This very well could.
Her blue eyes find their way into the sky to the faint amber sphere of the new Coruscant. So much of their past is tied to that planet, none of which they would ever know. It was destroyed so long ago and would keep its secrets forever. The Holo chatter indicates this caught everyone off guard. No one expects a planet to simply reform and resume its place in the galaxy. A heavy Imperial presence is reported around it with scientists rumored to have been dispatched to investigate. She doubts they would ever see those reports unless they could cajole Barrett or Quentin into revealing them. Barrett is the likelier candidate and she muses on how best to leverage his inevitable lack of findings related to Riley’s father. A rogue Imperial agent killed Navris and the others. That fact would cast further doubt over the others so it's unlikely Barrett would be so forthcoming. Coruscant looms over them, an ominous presence above their summer holiday.
One thing is for certain, they have to get onto that planet before whatever comes next claims its next victim.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Another day, another dinner party.
It’s become woefully warm, typical of this late in the season. At night the heat breaks and a cool ocean breeze sweeps through the penthouses but does little to blow away the lingering tension that remains. Dahlia hates when men get petty and Barrett’s rivalry with Quentin is as annoying as it is unbecoming. He isn’t entirely wrong either. She feels…something for Quentin. Felt. He’d managed to kill off that doubt pretty quickly in Barrett’s revelation. She should have expected nothing less. They are Imperial’s, after all. She needs to remember the Empire is notorious for manipulating the Winton’s.
Not this time.
The malaise continues, exquisitely. Alka is easily handling Ples, Gemma, and Riley in a card game when her emerald eyes catch and follow Dane as he grabs two ales and joins Barrett out on the balcony. She moves to intervene but is sidelined by Trichelle, who pulls her back to dish on the new selections Quinn had been sent from a few choice designers.
Dane hands a bottle to Barrett, cocking his head to the side as he stares out over the blue expanse below. He’s not coping well, or so he’s been told. Alka is irritated and he gets that but his girlfriend is part of the prophecy hit list, a prophecy that just keeps on giving. He’s gotta process this in his own way. And right now, he feels like ribbing the rules guy.
“Enjoying your time here?”
“It’s more solitary that I would have thought but just as well. I’m not really much for the crowds anyway.”
Dane smirks, “You tolerate them well.”
“They are nothing compared to the conniving of the Senators. This is just white noise. Static. I can get lost in that. What about you, Dane? Or should I say, Lord Gellar? Your family is big on the titles, right?”
“Some more than others. I’m dealing. Mostly. It sucks losing friends.”
“We’ve all lost people close to us.”
“And who have you lost, Barrett?”
He turns, appraising him. “I suppose that depends on why you are asking.”
“Curiosity. Boredom. Pick one.”
“You don’t like me much and that’s okay with me.”
Dane shrugs, “Dahlia likes you and that alone is enough to make me suspicious. You agreed to help Gemma out of concern for Riley but that’s not really going to happen, is it? I’m sure there’s a lot of things you guys keep close to the chest when it comes to us.”
Barrett slugs from the bottle and laughs, “I feel like this is building toward something relevant so why don’t you just spit it out?”
“You aren’t going to tell us what happened with Riley’s father just like you aren’t going to tell us what happened to Muriel and Tobias. You could but that would make everyone look bad. It would complicate things. I mean, more than they already are. The Empire is busy rehabbing its image with the Republic and there’s no way you’d compromise Dahlia or your little friends.”
“What does Dahlia have to do with this?”
“Everything. She’s a Winton and we both know what that means.”
Barrett’s stoic features are reflected in Dane’s dark sunglasses, ones he never bothered to remove even as the sun slips further and further into the horizon. They stand in silence for a while. He’s got to give it to Dane. He’s sharper than he looks. Even through the alcohol haze. The apparitions of slain Imperial agents juxtaposed with the murdered teens is difficult to explain, especially now that he knows the truth. Dahlia is potentially unstable, dangerous, just as the Emperor said she was. He's grappling with that as well as his jealousy. The worse part is that Quentin knew and never reported it. Now he knows why. How long before Dahlia lost control completely? Quentin already got to him and he's not about to let Dane do the same.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dane chuffs, making a face.
"You forget I’ve known what my sister is capable of long before you did. Both of them, actually."
He taps his bottle against Barrett’s.
“Buckle up, bro. This doesn’t end well for anyone.”
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Gemma wanders through a dense fog pulling low across the sands of Imperial Beach. It is neither night nor day with the sky the color of ash. Behind her, the Bolerathon Tower stands like a monolith. An omen. Above her, through the haze, Coruscant’s distant form is tinged with an amber glow. It taunts them with everything it can never tell. She hears Riley’s voice, disembodied, echoing all around her.
“The prophecy, these familiar incantations, all the things tied to our four names – are we doomed to repeat the pattern?”
She shakes her head, feeling her heart beat more quickly inside her chest. These are questions she has asked herself, part of the speculation into their presence and purpose. His voice fades to a whisper.
“How many times have they repeated before? Those that came before us weren’t the first…”
There is a figure ahead, distorted by the fog, and she finds herself moving closer. It is Dahlia standing near the water, her crimson hair caught in the chilled breeze. Darkened waves crash angrily against the shore. She can taste the sea spray, feel it stick to her face. That is when she notices the bodies, slowly washing up onto the shore, lifeless, pressed into the thick, wet sand. Some are more whole than others, vacant eyes open and staring through the fog as the water curls around them. Some of the faces she recognizes, part of the body count left in the wake of the original Four. Her eyes wander up the shore to the forms dumped in droves, expelled from a raging ocean.
Dahlia turns around slowly, a circle of fire igniting around her. The flames grow higher and higher as every soul lost to their names raises their heads from the sand toward the sky to let out a terrifying collective scream. The flames are too high and thick to see Dahlia but something stirs behind them. There is a towering figure with glowing green eyes and a metallic armor that reflects the intensity of the flames; the Inquisitor. Those glowing eyes bore into her as she backs away in horror, bumping into one of the bodies stuck in the sand. He is wearing an Imperial uniform, slashed and stained deeply with blood. He grabs her ankle, pulling his face free of the sand to reveal that of Mod Navris. His milky eyes fixed on her, water spilling from his mouth as he tries to choke out words.
“Without the Etheralis, you will never defeat it.”
She pulls her ankle free and grabs the saber from her belt as the Inquisitor lunges through the flames. Its jagged green saber extends from the armor and slashes down toward her. Gemma plants her heels in the sand and ignites the weapon. As they connect in a chorus of sparking hisses, the tower flares with light before it is ripped apart down the middle. A plume of fire spirals toward them, distracting her enough for the Inquisitor to reach out to grip her throat and lift her up out of the sand.
The flames reach them, glancing off the Inquisitor’s armor as Gemma’s flesh is burned from the bone and she screams until the fire swallows them whole.
*
She comes to with a gasp, lurching forward onto the bed and pulling the sheets from Riley’s slumbering form. There is a dryness to her throat like she can almost taste the flames that had engulfed her. It’s not a dream. It’s never just a dream. She’s seen monsters in her head since she was a child, nightmares that plagued her in the darkness of her own thoughts. She was too young then to understand the prophetic nature of the images, the symbolism in everything revealed to her.
She does now.
Riley stirs but doesn’t wake, curling an arm against his exposed chest. She falls back against the bed, trying to steady her breath but she can’t shake the feelings of terror or the images of destruction. The monsters of her youth have been replaced by those she knows, some closer to home than others. Kylie, Garron, Janessa, their parents, Vex, Roman, Preston – were they too more bodies to wash up in the tides of their saga? It was a risk coming to Hesperidium. They both knew that going in. Now the warnings are as glaring as the sun.
They are not safe here.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
It is a tense breakfast.
Gemma sits at the polished white table in the Masterton Penthouse staring through the open patio doors to the great blue beyond. She had waited until the others rose to join her before telling them of her nightmare vision. The ripples it causes are not subtle.
“She’s connected to it,” she says. “To the Inquisitor. That much is clear.”
“I know what my father said. He said it is of you. We are of four respective houses. He never said which one. What makes you think it is Winton?”
“Dahlia drew the Inquisitor’s mask. I saw it in her room. She wouldn’t tell me why she drew it but that can only mean she knows who or what it is.”
Dane hands Gemma a glass of juice, “Drink this, you look pale.”
“You look hungover.”
“I’m always hungover,” he quips with a sly smirk. “Barrett is covering something, possibly her connection to this Inquisitor or her role in Muriel and Tobias’ demise. Whatever his motives, he isn’t going to help us. Not if it means risking Dahlia.”
Alka pulls on his arm, “Then what are we still doing here? We should leave. Now.”
“But things are just getting interesting!”
“How interesting will it be if we’re all dead? Dahlia is dangerous, Dane."
He turns back to his sister.
“Danger is relative, darling. She has the same powers Gemma does.”
Gemma’s lips part in a small gasp but Riley steps in, “That’s not fair. You know it’s not the same thing.”
“The Force can be used in many ways. I know you’ve always resented that she and I have powers where you and Riley do not. But you are both powerful in other ways. Ways that matter more than things we can do. There are two things that struck me most from what I saw.”
“Only two?”
“From what you told us; the entire vision was horrific.”
She takes a sip from the glass and sighs, “Riley’s voice said those that came before us weren’t the first, that we are all part of some looping pattern. Do you believe that?”
“I only thought it,” he says. “Wondered, actually. The original Four followed such a specific sequence of events even if the entire scope was presented as random chaos or chance. If we are following the same pattern it wouldn’t be too far of a stretch to think that others may have as well. How much do you any of us know about our parent’s or grandparent’s past?”
Dane shrugs, “The Gellar’s have always been CSA strong but our father never spoke of himself at our age.”
“The Masterton and Winton families have ties to Bakura and the Patten’s to Corellia. The past always brought our mother such pain. Both of them seldom talked of the time before us.”
“Then who’s to say they didn’t lose five people close to them when they were young and the four of them survived?”
The query is startling and the primary reaction is to disprove something so unpleasant.
“I don’t think they knew each other as children.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Dane and Gemma exchange a skeptical glance but shakes their heads.
“What about your aunt, Riley?” Alka says suddenly.
“Aunt Mara? What about her?”
“She’s the only member of any of your families still alive. Wouldn’t she know something?”
“I don’t know where she is,” Riley says sadly. “She left with Master Nevylinn over a year ago. We know the five that died in the Event at 500 Republica since it was so widely publicized and we could look back through the Holonet for our ancestors’ stories.”
“Come on,” Dane says. “You know that’s been wiped clean. Prophecies are used to control people and any whiff of a way out would have been removed.”
“Who would The Four have been before our predecessors?”
“Alexander Winton. Henrick Masterton. Kyri Patten. Rutherford Gellar.”
“But the prophecy was specific to them. To the girls.”
“Was it though? Even though it was found by some, maybe the prophecy applies to every generation.”
“Now that’s a sobering thought,” Gemma whispers with a shiver.
“One we can discuss elsewhere. We have to get Trichelle and Ples out of here too. They aren’t safe here either.”
Gemma stands, “First we need to release those that are trapped here.”
“Gemma, please. The longer we stay here the greater the risk.”
“I promised Riley’s father.”
“I don’t like the thought of their spirits being trapped here. We need to free them.”
Dane holds Alka close, “It won’t take long. That is if Gem can convince Dahlia. It will take all four of us to do it.”
“I will,” she says and strides toward the door but stops before walking through. “There was something else from my vision. Riley, your father mentioned something called the Etheralis.”
“What’s an Etheralis?”
“I think it might be the amulet he spoke of, the other piece of the prophecy.”
“Wonderful,” Dane mutters. “Like that’s not super vague or anything.”
“It’s not much but it’s all we have to go off of.”
Across the corridor in the Winton Penthouse, Barrett is heading through the foyer with a bag. He slows as he passes Gemma.
“Where are you off to?”
“Dahlia lent me the royal cruiser for a meeting back on Chandaar. You won’t even miss me.”
“Can that meeting get us on the surface of Coruscant?”
He pauses at the door, “There’s nothing there. Why would you want to go?”
“How would we know if we can't see it for ourselves? Don’t tell me you aren't just as curious.”
“Curious or not, the area is restricted.”
“You owe me.”
“I owe you nothing, Gemma.”
“You owe Riley. The Empire is responsible for his father’s death and you know it.”
His jaw is set but the comment lands as intended, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Gemma nods and turns as he leaves, wandering further into the quiet residence. Dahlia is out on the patio, draped across a chaise lounge out of the rising sun. For someone who loves the beach, she sure does hate direct sunlight. Wrinkles, she once said, are never fashionable.
“Morning, sunshine.”
“I need you for something.”
She casts a wary expression behind those giant sunglasses, “Could you make that sound any more ominous? Geez, lighten up, Gemma.”
Gemma opts to play on her suspicion. She knows that Dahlia is lured by a sense of intrigue, the chance to experience something others cannot.
“Meet me in the turret after sundown. Alone.”
-TBC
-
"You know that it's magic
Feel it deep inside
Suddenly, in magic
When I see your eyes."
-IRO & Avi Snow
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
As the sun sets over the vast azure expanse, Dahlia steps out of the Winton Penthouse and moves toward the turret. Lit candles are arranged in a pattern she finds familiar across the tiled floor. Gemma, Dane, and Riley stand together in the center and turn as Dahlia nears. It is Gemma who speaks first.
“Thank you for joining us.”
She casts a wary glance at the trio and sighs, “You didn’t leave me much of a choice. So, like, what’s the deal?”
“We’re going to free those that are trapped here…including Muriel and Tobias.”
The names are like ice in her veins. She knows Barrett didn’t give them anything. There was nothing to give. The photage was wiped clean and he knows it. Still, her pulse quickens with the prospect that they figured it out on their own. There could be only one reason Muriel and Tobias reside amongst others slain in the tower. It is a turning point. They think they know her but they have no idea. She assumes they imagined the worst but to confirm these fears would make a powerful point. As she considers this, there is a realization that she owes it to Muriel. The thought of their specters haunting her holidays forever isn’t one that sits well.
“Alright, I’m in.”
“Well, that was easy. Too easy."
“Take the win,” Riley says.
Gemma nods, “Let’s begin.”
They kneel within the circular center of the turret and join hands as Gemma begins to chant an incantation in a language that is brisk and choppy. There are tinges of the ancient Sith dialect that makes Dahlia wonder what kinds of extracurriculars Gemma’s gotten into. Clearly, she’s studied up on some kind of spells that no doubt has the Jedi totally freaking out. Gemma pauses but continues in Basic.
“Reveal yourselves, fallen souls. Reveal!”
The candles flicker in an otherworldly breeze as the faded visages materialize behind them. Startled, Dane tries to pull away from Gemma but she grips his hand tighter.
“We cannot break the circle,” she whispers, gazing out over the many faces. “Whatever happens, do not let go. Focus on their energy and the anchors that keep them here.”
He nods and squares his shoulders. Riley’s father, Mod Navris, appears behind him. Tobias Harken hovers behind Dane, Muriel Monroe behind Gemma, and Felicia Kensington behind Dahlia. Others flutter in and out of sight but then grow brighter and more visible as they concentrate. Gemma has never done this before but remembers what she saw and read in the chambers that held Henrick Masterton’s sarcophagus. Incantations to bind, others to release. She can feel the Force flowing through her, trickling across her skin. Surely Dahlia can feel the same as it pours from both sides into Dane and Riley who kneel between them.
Then the spirits begin to chant, growing from a whisper into a mantra, over and over again.
“Until one wins, dark or light
Repeat, repeat eternal fight
Will shape the course of galaxy
A FOURsome they will always be
Bound by blood, their destiny
Offspring of young Persephone.”
They have not heard this verse before but they know it. It knows them. It is of them. The Prophecy Persephonea. Their intertwined hands are hot, nearly burning but they hold onto each other tightly as she speaks the words.
“Veh reliious tu. Veh reliious tu. We release you. We release you.”
Her words are drowned out in the chant so Gemma begins to shout as a current ripple through them. Their eyes flash open with a white light that creates a glowing sphere between them. It pulses and grows larger as Gemma cries out.
“Reliious! Reliious! Release! Release!!!”
Time seems to slow as the white light is pulled from each of them into the sphere that shrinks and flickers before pulsing outward in a glittery ring. The candle flames spike and burn the wax down into puddles. The spirits vanish one-by-one as the ring passes through them and soon, they are alone again in the turret. The sun has set and darkness lies beyond the tower. A silence falls over them, breathless and spent. Finally, they let go of each other.
“What the hell was that?”
“Powers combined, I guess.”
“We don’t have powers,” Dane says ominously. “Not like that. Not like the two of you.”
"Like the two of us."
Dahlia’s eyes find Gemma’s but she doesn’t dispute it. The time for hiding has long since passed. They know what the other is and somehow, in this moment, that’s okay. There was no mention of the original Four manifesting power in this way, at least nothing that was published. The Corellian reporter’s story, sourced from Melanie Masterton herself, referenced touchstones to the two that held Force ability. Is that what the Gellar’s and Patten’s are? Touchstones? Or are they the perfect conduit for amplifying the powers of the Winton’s and Masterton’s? Adubell told Dahlia her father orchestrated their intersection so many years ago and now she may really know why. Alexander Winton may have sought eternal life but he also wanted to watch it burn. And burn it did – all around him.
Gemma’s head is spinning, the words of their chant reinforcing Riley’s theory.
Riley turns, “Did it work?”
“I…don't know.”
*
The wave of white energy breaches the atmosphere, filtering through the stars to wash over Coruscant. On the surface, the air changes, and the soil darkens as a single seedling burst through the surface and stretches upward.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
The Winton Naboo royal cruiser flares out of hyperspace over the gleaming resort moon.
Barrett has had a bit of time to reflect on his conversation with Darth Erinbol, mulling over pieces that only now make sense. He remembers when the Sith first came to see him on Byss, a deception shrouded in a call to the Tarkin Academy Dean’s office. It was there he first told him of his connection to the Force. Although he was angry at the time, he still went with Erinbol to Carida where his real journey began. Erinbol had taught him to hide his Force signature to pass the Republic sensors which, at the time, seemed ridiculous. Still, he went along with it. He never questioned it because the action was to further the Empire’s objectives. Barrett never believed he had real power beyond his tactical mind.
Now he knows better.
To think this had all been part of what is essentially a long-con has him extremely conflicted. He doesn’t like being used. It’s not like he wouldn’t have gone along with it anyway but, back then, he acknowledges he may not have been in a position or mindset to hear it. Then there is the issue of the prophecy, one that never seems to die. As the “child” in the prophecy lived, nothing else came to pass. Riley’s existence proved that. Dementat did not rule nor Darth Kyja beside him. They all went down on the Centerpoint Station. The battle that stopped it all, according to Erinbol. He has always been wary of prophecies. Well, the concept of them anyway. From all he’s read, they are seldom straightforward with considerable room for interpretation. Too much room, in his opinion. Barrett prefers a straight and narrow path to desired results which is why the nuance and scope of the original Four’s saga astound him. Could one man have really positioned so many others into the vortex? He supposes that if Alexander Winton conjured up enough similarities to what was written, it would just be a matter of time before everyone else believed it.
He wonders if Emperor Schrag does as well, that Gellar holds the key to immortality. Schag is a reasonable man. Shrewd, maybe even ruthless, but reasonable. The Emperor knows what happened to those caught in the path of the prophecy so the thought of him angling for the same goal doesn’t track. Most surviving legacy characters from that era have been eliminated. Circe Prescott, Rutherford Gellar, Celeste Masterton, Vex Sienna – all of them gone. It’s a toss-up with Garron Prescott and Janessa Kain but his gut tells him neither are long for this world.
Then there was The Four. Well, four and the colorful cast of ancillary characters; himself included. That never ends well. It sure didn’t for Muriel and Tobias. That’s the thing about this prophecy, about all prophecies; there are never guarantees. All bets are off and everyone is expendable. It never says what is going to happen, only one possible outcome if all events align and Winton did everything in his power to ensure that it did.
Something Erinbol said has stayed with him. Unconventional Champion. The specific phrase was more telling than the Sith realized. It implies that Erinbol thinks of them as characters from that story. The four are pretty easy to peg. If Quentin is the Unconventional Champion that would make him either the High Protectorate or…The Master. It can’t be. Dementat was called by name. Unless he wasn’t. Unless he was another fabrication of Alexander Winton to give the prophecy the context he needed it to have.
Barret laughs out loud, shaking his head. He’s not going down that hole.
Instead, he recalls his first meeting with the Emperor who, despite his loyalty and gratitude, is someone he is beginning to have a difficult time trusting. Their first meeting was part of a test, a challenge where he was tasked with finding an appropriate candidate to lead the Republic. And he found one in Gil Leeds. The Speaker, through Dahlia’s machinations, had transformed the government and paved the way for the Imperial truce. Leeds was susceptible to all sorts of things it seemed. Erinbol was not wrong about the state of the Republic. Its citizens were positively eating out of their hands, much to the dismay of a few choice Senators – including that pesky Artemis Soldys from Corellia. His pushback combined with Riley’s status and connection to Gemma puts them in an interesting position, given how crucial a system they are. Now he understands how deeply rooted these plans were and what role he and Dahlia played in them.
Erinbol’s words before he met Dahlia return to him now.
“She is your destiny.”
He didn’t want to believe that either and resented both men for forcing the meeting. She was undeniably powerful but represented everything he despised about the elite. Barrett never expected to like her let alone fall in love with her. Yet he is in love with her, deeply, despite the friction Quentin Swire’s meddling has caused. She is more devious than he anticipated, cleverer and more talented than ever imagined. It is part of why he fell for her. That and her damaged resilience to forces conspiring against her. Dahlia’s face flickers in his mind, touching her chin to her shoulder as she looks back at him and smiles.
Perhaps this was meant to be. After all, everything had played out thus far.
His eyes glance past the controls and through the viewport to something he never expected to see. Coruscant, in the distance, looking much more vibrant than before. The planet is smaller than it had been but in place of its amber hue the brilliant green of foliage. How could this be? It’s a stupid question. That the planet exists at all after its destruction defies any rational explanation. However, the fact that Gemma requested his assistance in visiting now makes more sense. Could their powers have had something to do with this? It must wait for another time. He needs to get Dahlia away from this place and scatter the crew before the hunter comes for all of them. Schrag’s order would have to wait as well. The Empire could weather Gemma’s death, spinning her reputation and ties to the Jedi, but not Riley’s or Dane’s. Corellia and the Corporate Sector were far too important. He realizes something that puts him in an awkward spot. Barrett would fight to the death for Dahlia and knows Riley would do the same for Gemma. Therefore, it would be in their best interests if he protected her. Dammit. Was this a test as well?
Barrett eases the ship down into the atmosphere, having been cleared for landing by central command but with an emergency designation. Curious, he keys it up on the display. The coordinates transmitted are for the spaceport, not the Bolerathon Tower, a fact that he finds strange but not entirely suspicious until he nears Diamant Island.
Or what is left of it.
A thick, black column of smoke arches to the west from where the tower once stood. Ash and flame consume everything on the scorched island. His heart pounds in his chest, gripping the controls tightly as he slows the ship and comes in closer. Only a few first responders are on the scene which means this happened recently. He sets the cruiser down hard on the easternmost tip of the island, bolting through the ship and down the ramp. Barrett stumbles forward in disbelief, eyes traveling up the length of the onyx plume. That's when he sees it. A dash of color amongst the blackened sands. A large corner of the Bastien McNeal abstract from the living room of the Winton Penthouse lies wedged in the sand.
Oh no, he thinks darkly.
He is too late.
-TBC
-
Before:
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
Dane awakens to find Alka packing. He returned to the Masterton Penthouse late after the incantations and she was already asleep. He was shaken by the experience but kept that to himself. They stayed behind for hours to see if the specters returned but all was quiet in the turret. The process had been enlightening, to say the least. He’d never felt power like that before and wonders if that is what it’s like to actually use the Force. If so, he’s not sure it’s for him. Too intense. He yawns, stretching out on the bed.
“What’s the rush?”
“Did it work?”
“I think so.”
“Good,” she says, folding a top into one of her cases. “Then let’s get out of here.”
He nods, sliding out from under the sheet.
“We’ll regroup then bounce, okay?”
“The longer we stay here, the less comfortable I feel. I’m glad you were able to free those spirits but if Muriel and Tobias really died here too then that’s a completely different conversation, one I’m not sure you’re ready to have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Alka straightens and pushes her dark hair over a tanned shoulder.
“A lot of people are either missing or dead and we’ve been partying with the common factors for months. If the Imperial’s really are covering it up that would mean they are complicit in murder and Maker knows what else. Gemma’s vision and Riley’s theory aren’t helping either. That prophecy took a lot of people down with it and repeating that part isn’t what I want for either of us.”
He goes to her, pulling her into his arms, “Me either, babe. I’m not going to let anything happen to us.”
“That isn’t a promise you can make and we both know it.”
He kisses her neck and leaves her to finish packing. At part of him knows Alka is right, that the deeper they wade into this the more likely disaster awaits. The other part finds it all thrilling in a kind of sick, dark way. He isn’t really keen on do-overs either and wants to build his own life on his own terms.
In the living room, Riley is casually eating breakfast with Gemma pacing in front of a Holo report.
“What the deal? Someone else we know bite it?”
“Not funny, Dane. Have you seen this?”
“What?”
“Coruscant has been terraformed.”
It takes his fuzzy brain a few seconds to register, slowly shaking his head.
“Wait, what? When?”
“Overnight.”
“That’s not even possible, is it? I thought that was done in stages.”
Gemma turns back to the projection as it shows the brilliant greens and colors of the newly sprung flora, “It’s supposed to be.”
“Care to weigh in on this, Patten?”
Riley munches on a piece of toast and shrugs, “I think it was us. You can’t deny you felt the same power we all did coursing through us. There was a visible discharge of energy that I think freed the trapped souls and kickstarted the planet's ecosystem.”
Dane stares at him, blinking.
“Are you saying the four of us geoengineered the terraformation of Coruscant through…the Force?”
“Uh, yeah. Pretty much."
All three of them burst into laughter, a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the mood. It does sound ridiculous although not the most ridiculous thing to have been done in their names. It’s simply too outlandish to fathom yet the events of the previous night and timeline indicate at least the possibility. The concepts and questions involved are too large for them to grapple with right now. The endless series of queries about their potential and place in these worlds too real. They shower and pack but Gemma doesn’t want to leave without answers.
She slips her saber in a shoulder bag and heads for the door.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m sure the Imperial crew has their own thoughts about what happened.”
“Have fun with that,” Dane says from the kitchen. “We’re going to start loading our stuff into the shuttles but we’ll join you in a few.”
Gemma crosses the corridor and enters the Winton Penthouse. Downtempo beats softly permeate the air as Quinn dances slowly in the center of the living room holding a champagne flute.
“Morning,” she calls dreamily.
“Drinking already? It’s not even noon.”
“Oh,” Quinn says, seemingly stunned. “This is a…breakfast drink.”
“Right.”
Dahlia breezes through the room in a minidress and platform sandals, gripping a small, jeweled clutch a little too tightly. She changes course and steps down into the living room after spotting Gemma.
“You look a bit worked up for whatever time it is. What’s got your panties in a bunch now?”
“We’re leaving.”
“But we were having so much fun.”
“Were we though? I don’t suppose you’ve seen the Holo reports this morning.”
Dahlia shrugs, “It’s a little early for galactic happenings, no?”
Gemma moves to the wall and taps on the projector with a sigh. The headline dominates the morning cycle with images from different vantage points displaying the expanse of the transformation.
“You tell me.”
“Coruscant didn’t look like that yesterday.”
“It sure didn’t,” Gemma quips, annoyed by Dahlia’s ability to casually downplay a major event. “This happened overnight, it would appear even within the last twelve hours.”
“Oh shit, did we do this?”
Finally, a valid question.
“I think we may have and we need to talk about what that means."
“Cool,” Dahlia says, flipping her crimson hair. “It was looking a little drab anyway.”
“Could you not be, well, you for a microsecond. Dahlia, this is serious. The terraformation of Coruscant is going to be investigated heavily. There has to be more than a dozen Imperial scout ships out there. This was bound to appear on their sensors as well as any on the surface of Hesperidum. If we had anything to do with it, they will trace that energy burst back to us in no time.”
“Us? No. You? Probably.”
“What?”
“Um, let's not forget that whole little séance thing was your idea. Also, you’ve been exiled from the Republic proper and, seeing as the truce binds them and the Empire together, you’ll likely be the primary suspect if anyone does come looking.”
She is not about to let her pull that and counters with a much more effective redirect.
“And who will be the primary suspect with Muriel and Tobias?”
Dahlia’s eyes flare as Quentin and Trichelle enter from one direction and Dane, Alka, and Riley from the other. It’s a tense moment that everyone can feel and no one wants to be the first one to break the ice. The adoptive-sisters glare at each other as Quinn continues swaying nearby.
“Something you want to say to me, Gemma?”
“Actually, yes. I think the only reason the spirits of your friends were trapped in this tower is that you had something to do with it.”
“Hey!” Quentin says, moving toward them. “Where do you get off?”
“Can it, Q,” Dahlia says without ever taking her eyes off Gemma’s face. “Is that so? Well, don't hold back, darling. Tell me what you really think.”
“I think they are covering for you. Things have been weird the entire time we’ve been here and I can’t help feeling like you and your friends know all about it. Coruscant reforming, old missing friends haunting your hallways, your cagey boyfriend playing a little too close to type and everyone is just okay with that? I don't think so. What’s going on, Dahlia? Why did you invite us all here for the summer?”
Ples walks in from the patio, takes one look around, and laughs.
“Wow, you could cut the tension in this room with a knife.”
A jagged green blade appears through Ples’ left shoulder and slices down across his chest to bisect him. Everyone gasps as the Inquisitor steps out from behind his body as it falls, towering in the patio doorway.
Trichelle screams.
-TBC
-
Before:
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island: Bolerathon Tower
They snap into action quickly.
Neither party knew just how much training the other had and for a moment they move together in an almost synchronized assembly. Gemma and Dahlia’s sabers are out of their purses and ignited first. Apparently, they had both come to the conversation that preceded the attack prepared for anything. The mask looks just as it did in Dahlia's vision, Force-echoes from their torched Lake House. Quentin, Quinn, and Riley have blasters up and firing but the target whips the energy beams away with a careful twirl of his own saber. The Inquisitor steps through the halves of Ples’ body to advance on the group.
No one can tell where Trichelle’s scream ends and Alka’s begins. A chorus for the chaos. All that unpacking and speculation; everyone postulating over what may or may not be. It doesn’t matter. At least, not at this moment anyway. The terror is now suddenly very, very real.
Dahlia takes left and Gemma right, a fleeting glance between them that speaks more than words ever could. Despite everything, now is not the time to be petty. Even Dahlia is aware enough to see that. Queries about the other's involvement would have to wait.
“The shuttles,” Quentin shouts. “Go!”
As the trio of sabers colorfully clashes, Dane grabs Trichelle’s arm and shoves Alka back through the foyer. Another volley of blaster fire is deflected in their direction, tearing through the walls to send them scrambling for cover. Alka crawls for the door while Dane drags a hysterical Trichelle behind him and tries to stay down. She locks eyes with Ples’ upper half, face positioned toward them, mouth frozen open in surprise. Alka slaps at the controls and slips through, careening toward the far wall. The panic is blinding, visceral, all them operating on instinct.
Dahlia’s voice in their heads: Fall back!
Quentin and Quinn swing around and join Riley at the mouth of the foyer. Quinn’s face is slack and stern, the dreamy glint in her eyes replaced with something focused and dark. The nanotech coursing through her appears to be triggered by an acute threat response, morphing her from harmless vapid model to trained killer in an instant. She is terrifyingly calm, blasting away in an attempt to find weaknesses in the Inquisitor’s armor. Another round deflected and stray bolt tears across the top of Quentin’s right shoulder. He winces, caught off balance, but Riley grips him from behind to steady him. There are blast marks everywhere and nothing seems to penetrate. Quinn stands down, the signal stopping the attack from Quentin and Riley to leave Dahlia and Gemma flanking the attacker with their sabers.
Dane finally makes it to the door, pulling a still-screaming Trichelle down the corridor as he mutters, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck.”
Alka is through the turret and out onto the walkway that winds up to the landing pads. They are not far behind but by the time they reach the shuttle, Alka is preparing for launch. He shoves Trichelle into a seat, barking at her to buckle up, as he grabs his own blaster from the back and waits by the ramp.
“Dane, let’s go!”
“No! We wait for Gemma and Riley.”
The finality of this statement along with those he does not mention isn’t lost on her. She turns back to the controls, willing herself to calm down. This is exactly what she thought would happen. Well, maybe not exactly what with the crazy monster guy but still. It’s bad. Then she remembers something Gemma said. They were being hunted. This, she concludes, must be the hunter.
Back inside the Winton Penthouse, the situation has not improved. The Inquisitor has remained remarkably silent, holding ground without moving further into the room. It is almost as if he is waiting for something and the princess hedges her bets on what that is.
“Get them out of here,” Dahlia snaps.
“Like hell,” Quentin not-so-surprisingly objects.
“Quinn.”
The model bombshell grabs Quentin with a strength he was not expecting, forcing him back through the foyer.
Riley remains, “Gemma, no!”
“Go, Riley. I’m right behind you.”
Quinn grabs the back of his shirt to haul both boys toward the door. He manages a quick glance at the Inquisitor towering over both of them. Once they are gone, it finally speaks.
“Winton. Masterton. Patten. Gellar. Together again. Someone follows orders well.”
Confusion passes over the girl's faces, neither knowing where the comment was directed.
“Once upon a time, another brought the original Four together and the Four before that. Until one wins, dark or light – repeat, repeat eternal fight. Or so the story goes.”
“We are on a loop then,” Gemma presses. “What is written will always be so?”
Its laugh is thick with disdain, “The prophecy is just an instrument.”
“Then why try and turn me?”
“Turn you?”
“Yes,” she says. “It came after me before, wanted me to let go and give in to the dark side. As if that would have stopped it from killing me. So much cheap talk when all it wants is the end of the Jedi.”
She knew Gemma had barely escaped her encounter but never that she had been propositioned. Now it makes sense; estrangement from the Jedi, the wavering doubt, dark incantations much too close to Sith mysticism; she was ripe for a fall. But she wouldn't - would she? The idea would be exciting if they weren't fighting for their lives. The Inquisitor derails this train of thought.
“Their end does not necessarily mean the end of either of you. Establishments are brought down and resurrected as something better. Look at the Republic; you’d barely recognize it now. The Jedi, the Sith - their time has passed. The truth is, there is no such thing as black and white. Not anymore. Not for some time now, actually, and we have the four of you to thank for it. You see, the real power lies not in the instruments but the players. Imagine the worlds with the powers of The Four harnessed? You felt what that means. It’s what led me to you and why Coruscant has been reborn. Join me and see what we can do together.”
Dahlia scoffs, “As your instruments? Hard pass.”
“Agreed,” Gemma says, not quite finding the satisfaction she anticipated with confirmation to some of their speculations. “You should have stayed in the cave where I left you.”
The Inquisitor’s eyes flash green behind the mask, energy coursing down across its arms to the jagged green saber.
“As you wish. The daughters of darkness and light end now.”
They assume fighting stances but when the Inquisitor takes an offensive on Gemma, Dahlia throws out a hand to send their attacker crashing sideways through patio windows.
“Gemma, go! Go now!”
“No, Dahlia, we can-“
“No, we can’t,” she snarls in a lower voice, turning to reveal eyes filled with blackness. “I can. Get them out…I…I don’t know how long I can hold it…”
She had never seen true darkness until this moment.
Gemma does not argue, despite her reservations, taking a step back before turning to run. As she sprints down the corridor, blonde curls trailing behind her, she realizes this is their only chance. If Dahlia holds even a fraction of the power her sisters did, she may be the only one who could stop the Inquisitor.
“You are powerful, Winton. As I expected.”
She is teetering now, nearing the edge of control. Dahlia grips her saber as the Inquisitor advances, grasping that a disarming sweep wouldn’t work if the blade was mounted to an armored glove – unless she took the whole arm. It attempts to draw her closer with an outstretched hand but she breaks the hold and launches forward in a saber swarm. Its fluid reposte pushes her back on the defensive but the feeling within her grows, crystallizing in her peripheral vision. She falters with a weak parry and the opportunity is seized. The Inquisitor moves for an assured strike when she throws out both of her arms, sending a pulse rippling through the room. Everything slows, Inquisitor still bearing down and Dahlia now hovering off the ground with crimson hair fanned out around her. She breaks the moment, reaching out to grab the lip where the body armor meets helmet and brings the saber down. Energy pours out of her and envelops both in a black sphere.
The resulting energy pulse first blasts outward, shattering windows and detaching the wraparound patio entirely before smashing straight down through the center of the tower.
Gemma reaches the top of the platform stairs. Quentin’s shuttle is lifting off, banking down in an attempt to get Dahlia out. Riley shouts to her while Dane gives Alka the signal to take off. A blast of energy splits through the landing pad, causing Gemma to stumble. She Force-leaps from unstable footing and lands hard on the ramp, sliding backward toward the infinite blue below. Dane is already moving, clipping himself to the shuttle as he throws himself at her. He catches her wrists before she slips off the ledge, Riley working the controls to haul them both back in. He pulls her into his arms as Dane closes the ramp and heads for the controls. Trichelle is sobbing, completely hysterical, as Gemma and Riley fall into seats and fumble with the restraints. The shuttle rises and veers sharply to the right.
There is an almost guttural cracking sound as the Bolerathon Tower buckles, splitting in half before it explodes.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Diamant Island
Alarms are blaring, everything bathed in flashing red lights.
They are going down.
Through the viewport, as the shuttle spirals toward the ocean below, they can barely make out Quentin’s shuttle hit the water. There is a lot of screaming. Dane clutches the controls, throttling the damaged and sputtering engines in an attempt to even them out. In the back, Gemma draws inward and tries to guide them down. It is not enough. They come in hard, slamming against their restraints. Trichelle isn’t buckled in and her body is thrown mercilessly into space before crashing into the passenger galley wall. She lies still on the floor. Gemma is dazed, head lolling around on her neck. Riley unbuckles himself and crawls toward Trichelle. Dane appears in the doorway as the shuttle shifts forward to dip beneath the surface.
“We have to get out of here.”
Alka staggers in behind him. The ramp controls are busted, not that it would work against the pressure of the rising water. She sags against the wall, trying to keep her head from spinning. Riley's eyes move to the ceiling.
“Top hatch, go!”
Move toward the back but the ladder is jammed. Dane grabs a wrench and hammers it down but the shuttle shifts again, a low groan reverberating through the hull. They are fully submerged now and would sink quickly. If they were too deep, the pressure in the water would kill them.
They do not have much time.
“I’m going to open the hatch,” Dane says, hoisting himself up on the ladder. “It’s going to flood but that’s the only way we can swim out. Riley, there are breathing apparatuses in the emergency kit.”
Alka looks horrified, incapable of reconciling everything that has happened. Riley distributes the devices but kneels beside Trichelle.
“What about her? She’s not looking so good."
“I told her to buckle up."
“She was freaking out, Dane! We all were. Blaming her isn’t going to help.”
He nods, “I know, I know, I’m sorry. You’ll have to bring her out. Riley, can you do it?”
“I can help,” Gemma says softly, placing the device in her mouth while getting Trichelle upright.
He glances at Alka, “Babe? You ready?”
She wipes the tears from her cheeks, stuffing the device in her mouth, and nods. Dane pulls the hatch open and leaps off the ladder as frigid ocean water rushes in. The temperature stuns them but thankfully fills the space quickly. Soon they are wading toward the narrow opening. Dane goes first, clutching Alka’s hand as they swim through. Once she is safely kicking toward the surface, he pauses to make sure the others are following. Gemma passes Trichelle through and, once Riley has her, begins furiously swimming upward.
Dane and Gemma grew up with summers on Viperii Lake which made both strong swimmers over the years. They take long, even strokes to the surface but find they are further out than they thought. Beyond the water, on the shore, the tower has collapsed and, in its place, a thick column of black smoke. It looks like a tropical war zone.
Riley carefully turns Trichelle over, floating her on her back. She is still breathing but it’s shallow. Dane signals toward the shore and they begin the swim in, using the tide to conserve energy. Finally, they reach the blackened sands of Imperial Beach. Riley drags Trichelle out of the water and collapses to his knees. Gemma crawls to them, brushing hair out of Trichelle’s face. There is a fairly deep laceration on her forehead, left arm clearly broken, and she is covered in welts that are sure to become bruises. Alka is bent over crying so Dane goes to her, rocking her in his arms as the trees further up the shore burn like torches.
Something emerges from the water a few meters away. The icy blonde hair reveals Quinn carrying an unconscious Quentin in a feat of almost superhuman strength. She dumps him on the sand and spits the breathing apparatus from her mouth. The entire spectacle, her expressionless face and flawless movements, is unnerving. She drops to her knees to feel for a pulse. When she realizes he’s not breathing, Quinn begins CRP until Quentin chokes out the water in his lungs and slumps over on his side.
A figure rushes toward them from the distance, stumbling across the uneven sand.
Quinn rises fluidly, dropping into a defensive posture. Gemma unclips the saber from her belt and ignites it, thankful Melanie shared the tip about the bifurcating cyclical-ignition pulse that prevents the weapon from shorting out when submerged. As the figure draws closer, they realize it’s Barrett Trevaithan.
How the hell did he get here?
He passes Quinn and Quentin but stops, out of breath, in front of Dane and the others. He gazes around wildly, sputtering.
“Where…where’s Dahlia?
Alka pulls away from Dane’s shoulder and manages to croak, “She was in the tower.”
He backs away, automatically turning toward the pillar of smoke. Flakes of ash twirl down slowly to land on their hair and shoulders. Only then does he acknowledge the glowing saber Gemma grips in one hand.
“It came for you,” he mutters. “The Inquisitor.”
“How the fuck did you know that?” Dane shouts, leaping up to confront him.
Gemma levels the saber, “Unless you sent it.”
Barrett sneers, “I didn’t.”
“I don’t believe you,” Dane hisses, throwing an arm out to catch Barrett square in the cheek. He staggers then goes down. “Son of a bitch!”
“Dane!”
“No way, you knew!” he shouts, pointing down at him. “Why else would you have returned so frantically? Was that the plan? Conspire with Dahlia to lure us all together so that thing could attack us? We were nearly killed!”
Barrett stands slowly, fighting the urge to take him out. It’s not worth it. Not when Dahlia is missing or worse. He also notices they are down a friend, something he suspects isn’t a good sign.
“No, that wasn’t the plan. There was no plan. I didn’t even know you’d be coming until she told me.”
“And who told you?” Gemma bites out. “About the Inquisitor? You called it by name.”
“A Sith Lord on Byss told me it was coming for everyone so I came back here to warn you.”
“A real hero,” Dane quips. “A lot of good that did. Look at this place! Ples is dead and I can only assume Dahlia is too. The only thing I hope is that she took that thing with her.”
Gemma eyes him suspiciously, “I thought you had meetings on Chandaar?”
“Change of plans.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
If Dahlia had been killed, it was an honorable sacrifice. She saved them but it does not lessen the horror. Barrett phases out momentarily, the ringing in his ears growing to an intolerable level. Pain radiates across his chest at the thought of Dahlia being gone. When he last left the resort moon, she was angry with him. Suddenly, he is as lost and confused as they are. It is not a feeling that sits well.
Gemma deactivates her saber when she surmises he’s not a threat. He’s in shock too. They all are and understandably so. The pieces don’t make sense. Why would the Inquisitor come for all of them when it was made explicitly clear that the eradication of the Jedi was its primary goal? Gemma is the only Jedi here, as far as she knows, so this twist doesn’t track. Given the source, she’s skeptical of the motive. Someone may be pulling Barrett’s strings as well.
“How did this even happen?” he shouts.
“It was Dahlia,” Gemma says.
“What?" "What?"
"How?”
They all turn to her now, confused but interested.
“I don’t know, she looked…different. Her eyes…she was radiating with power. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
Quentin limps toward them, coughing violently.
“She lost control as she did with your friends last summer. It was an accident.”
“An accident that claimed Muriel and Tobias and caused a chain reaction on Coruscant. The Inquisitor confirmed it. Dahlia must have started the process. We just finished it.”
Barrett’s face is hardened, “What does that even mean?”
“You tell us,” Dane says. “Or didn’t your Sith contact share the grand plan?”
“That’s why we’re here. We were brought to make Coruscant whole again.”
“Is that true, Barrett? Is that why Dahlia invited us here?”
“I don’t know.”
And he doesn't.
That's what scares him more than anything. How long has he been fumbling around in the dark? Darth Erinbol's words resonate as he understands how deeply his involvement with the Republic had consumed his attention and focus. A series of misdirects led them all here and now they know why. Emergency droids begin swarming the site, putting out fires and sending data back to the ISB. It’s only a matter of time before the Imperial authorities would arrive.
A shuttle streaks down from the sky, coming in fast on their position. Everyone tenses. As it nears, they notice it’s unmarked. Always an ominous sign. It touches down hard on the shore, ramp lowering as two figures appear. One holds a blaster and the other a saber.
Taarek Cirque and Demaris Atrii are an unexpected but welcome sight.
He aims the blaster at the Imperial contingent, “Keep those hands where I can see them.”
Barrett and Quentin glare contemptuously but comply.
“Let's go!"
Dane glances back at Alka but realizes they shouldn’t leave Trichelle. She and Ples are citizens of the CSA and it is his responsibility to break that news on their behalf.
“You and Riley go,” he says.
“What? No, Dane. Come on. We should leave together."
“I’ll stay and handle this. Given your standing with the Republic, I doubt you’ll fare better in Imperial custody. Go, Gem. I got this.”
She throws her arms around him and they embrace tightly. Gemma waves to Alka and takes Riley’s hand as they board, the shuttle lifting off and disappearing as quickly as it came. They took a considerable risk entering Imperial space to retrieve them without clearance but the calamity provides the perfect distraction. Dane hopes they make it out but those pleasant thoughts are short-lived.
Imperial troopers storm the beach, surrounding them with weapons drawn.
The group is forced together with no choice but to surrender.
“What happened to the tower?” Quinn asks innocently as she pulls on a strand of hair, finally coming to. “And where’s my champagne?"
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Iobatese Island: Imperial precinct
This is not how Quinn Cavanaugh intended to spend the afternoon.
After being rounded up off the beach, they evacuated the flaming wreckage of Diamant Island and returned to the central district on Iobatese. Barrett and Quentin verbally sparred with the officials as Dane and Alka remained stoic and silent. Trichelle was hospitalized, obvi, while the rest of them are split up for questioning. She’s really not feeling it though.
The lighting in the interrogation room an unacceptable travesty but Quinn makes the best of it, primping herself in the duraglass wall. She is surprisingly sore although from what she hasn’t the faintest clue. An ISB agent, most likely dispatched from Byss, enters the room. He doesn’t have the vibe of someone stationed somewhere so serene.
“Finally,” she sighs. “You could have at least run us by Bistro Bibliotheca for a salad if this was going to conflict with lunch.”
“Have a seat, Miss Cavanaugh.”
She is still barefoot, wearing a pink bikini and beige sarong that has seen better days, but complies with his directive. He shifts uncomfortably in a chair, pulling it up closer to the table. Despite everything, she looks stunning – sun-kissed and smoking hot. To be expected, he supposes, of a model. It is their job. This one is different though, having been mixed up with The Four. That’s what the Holo calls them anyway. Cavanaugh is a Republic citizen with a clean record so finding her standing on the beach next to an obliterated tower that may or may not have killed upwards of seven thousand individuals - with a ballerina, CSA baron, Imperial agent, and ambassador to the Emperor - more than a little surprising.
“My name is Agent Gris, and I’m going to ask you some questions.”
Quinn glances at her nails, “About what?”
“The, er, incident at the Bolerathon Tower.”
“Wild, right? What happened?”
“I’m asking you. You were there.”
“I’m not so sure that’s true.”
“You weren’t there? In the tower?”
“Well, I was earlier…then I was on the beach.”
“What happened in the interim?”
“The what?”
“In between you being in the tower and on the beach.”
“I was drinking….”
“Drinking?”
“…champagne. And dancing. It was marvelous. I love summer, don’t you?”
“Let’s focus, okay?”
“On what?”
“The incident,” he says sternly, quickly losing patience. “We are trying to piece together what happened.”
“To the tower? Right. It, like, exploded or something.”
“Yes, we believe so.”
“But, how?”
“That’s what-,” he inhales sharply, suppressing the urge to become violent. He would usually slam on or throw the table in an attempt to scare a statement out of a suspect. Most of the time he never lays a hand on them but it is effective none the less. As angry as he is, Quinn is much too beautiful to yell at it. She is clearly useless. “Nevermind. Wait here, please.”
Gris confers with another agent in the corridor. There hasn’t been much luck with the others. Records confirm Ambassador Trevaithan was incoming from the Imperial Citadel on Byss and arrived after the incident. There isn't a statement to make. Gellar and Dawning stonewalled them, asking only to see their injured friend. Agent Swire claimed classified intel and his clearance as a field operative prevented them from inquiring further.
There is a lingering question about the location of Princess Dahlia Winton, Riley Patten, Gemma Masterton, and Ples Aguilar. As far as the ISB can tell, they were all together in the tower, with the exception of Trevaithan, prior to the incident. Either the others went down with the tower or they are concealing something. Given the lack of cooperation and people of interest, they are leaning toward the latter. Unfortunately, they are cut off at the knees. Ambassador Trevaithan returns, demanding they all be released on orders of Emperor Schrag. They do not question it and the others are brought to him in front of the precinct.
“What’s the deal, Trevaithan?”
He begins to walk and they follow, albeit reluctantly, toward the Iobatese medical center. Dane doesn’t believe this is all some sort of happy accident. There is no way the Emperor just let them all walk out the door and it is this rage that keeps him from reflecting on the reality of what happened. As much as he doesn’t trust Dahlia, he didn’t want her dead. Ples didn’t deserve that end either and there are still so many questions about the Inquisitor’s motive. The one thing he’s certain of is that Barrett knows more than he’s letting on.
“Answer me, dammit.”
He slows his gait, allowing Dane to catch up. The two men face off with the others ensnaring them in a staggered circle.
“You took your shot so I’m not really in the mood, Gellar.”
“Why did they let us go?”
“They have nothing to hold you on.”
“We kept it quiet and I’m hoping you did the same.”
“For all the ISB knows, Gemma and Riley were lost in that tower too.”
“But they weren’t,” Dane retorts lowly. “There is surveillance all over these islands and that shuttle must have appeared on their scanners. Considering the facts and timing, they will piece this together.”
“Records can be amended,” Quentin says smugly.
Quinn leans sleepily against his shoulder and giggles, “Poof.”
Alka crosses her arms, “Yeah, we know. You told us you didn’t find anything when we asked about Muriel and Tobias the first time. You also told us things down on the beach that I’m sure we weren’t supposed to know. Call it shock, call it grief, whatever. It still reeks of ulterior motives. So, why help us now? What the hell do you want in exchange for our freedom?”
Barrett is exhausted and heartbroken but not stupid.
“Listen to me, both of you. The Empire and Corporate Sector have mutually lucrative business dealings, dealings that could be compromised if you remained in custody. There are already going to be tensions, given that the ExO’s son was killed and an heiress has been critically injured. We need a salve and it is up to the two of you to guide the narrative moving forward.”
“We’re a public relations stunt? Are you fucking serious?”
“Iver Aguilar is going to need reassurance,” Barrett tells them plainly. “You are going to give that to him.”
Alka scoffs, “And if we don’t?”
“It will come out that there was an attack…one that The Four was the target of. Imagine how the Direx Board would react, knowing that two of their own were caught in the crossfire yet again? That corporatocracy of yours would eat you alive. Gellar’s company, Dawning’s standing on the Direx Board; it would all come crashing down. Gemma and Riley are the aces. Either they remain out of the report or in – you decide.”
Barrett, Quentin, and Quinn leave them at the bridge to the medical center. In typical Imperial fashion, they were presented with a choice that isn’t really a choice. No doubt they could conjure up a plausible excuse for the Bolerathon Tower’s destruction and supply evidence to support it. This is their turf and Dane Gellar has never felt so out of his league. They had manipulated shares of ChemiX in the safe return of his father several years ago and now they wanted more. They always want more. The company is his father’s legacy and he’d be damned if he let the Empire piss on Rutherford Gellar’s memory. Alka couldn’t let the Direx Board turn on her father or family.
They know what they must do for now.
She takes his hand and they silently enter the medical center together. As they wander through the sterile corridors, medical droids frantically pass them and converge on a room – the Corinthos room. Dane starts to run with Alka calling after him. He crashes against the doorway, watching the droids try to start the patient’s heart. Alka reaches him, breathless, and absorbs the situation. The readings on the monitor do not change and the droids withdraw their instruments. The time of death is announced in an emotionless, mechanical voice. The droids move on. Alka gasps, choking back a sob as she clings to Dane. Fury washes over him with nowhere to go.
Trichelle’s head is turned slightly toward the door so that he cannot help but stare into her wide, vacant eyes.
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Iobatese Island
With nowhere to stay, Dane rents them a condo in East Iobatese Beach. They flop onto the bed defeated and exhausted, falling into a fitful slumber. Alka wakes early and steps out onto the balcony to stare out at the ocean. The Holo is on in the background, muted as Dane sleeps. The visuals of the resort moon and the remains of the Bolerathon Tower seem to play endlessly. Commentators trade words about motive and the cause that are driven primarily by the Empire’s lack of detail. Investigation underway is all anyone will say. There are already comparisons to the Event at 500 Republica. The curse of The Four, or so some are saying.
It doesn’t make sense to her. As terrible as the whole thing is, the fact that Trichelle died puts the count up to six. It invalidates the loop theory both Gemma and Riley were floating. That’s not to say several more players from the past wound up dead in the home stretch to the Battle of Centerpoint but it did start with five. The entire situation seems senseless but she is smart enough to know they probably haven’t even scratched the surface of what is really going on.
She wanders back inside and keys up the desk console, pulling up old reports from the Event at 500 Republic. It started with the deaths of five – Darcy Saunders, Billy St. James, Lucas Maxwell, Reef Stratford, and Skyler McNeal. Their names are bolded beneath their photage, smiling faces that were extinguished by an allegedly jealous Alexia Winton. There isn’t an Alexia this time around; so, who is the catalyst for all this?
Dane had made several calls from the medical center which, from the sound of things, didn’t go over so well. No one was expecting them to. Iver Aguilar would demand answers, answers neither he nor Alka have to give him. The Imperial’s didn’t leave them with much of a choice yet the “investigation” continues. It sounded hollow and they both know it. The last call, to Chandaar, was the most difficult and they are expected back at the medical center later that morning.
Alka showers and changes, returning to find Dane on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. She goes to him and drapes an arm around his broad shoulders. He leans into her, sighing heavily.
“What are we going to do?”
“What we must,” she says with a harder edge than she intends. “This wasn’t our fault.”
“Fault doesn’t matter when it comes to The Four, remember? We’ll be blamed anyway. We always are. Whatever goodwill our seemingly benign existence created is now destroyed. Ples was Iver’s only son, the premier, and heir apparent to his company and potentially the Direx Board. Barrett’s got me by the balls and I hate it. I hate him but there isn’t anything I can do. Dahlia’s dead and he doesn’t skip a beat to blackmail.”
“You don’t know that.”
He turns to her, “From what Gemma said, it sounds like Dahlia combusted or something. No one could have survived that.”
“She has powers,” Alka says. “You said so yourself. Powers we don’t understand. It’s possible-“
“That what? She was as dangerous as everyone said she was? You warned me and I thought it couldn’t possibly be true, that she would never turn on us.”
“I don’t think she did. If Dahlia’s gone, she died saving those she could.”
He rubs his eyes, “There are so many loose ends we need to consider. Gemma and Riley will eventually show up somewhere and blow our story to shit. I gotta shower. We need to get to the medical center.”
An hour later, they are walking through the tropical city. Other early risers steer clear of them. Alka can’t blame them, not really. She would be wary too given everything that has happened. She knows this is going to be difficult for him, for everyone involved, and so she would support him as best she could. The morgue is small but brightly lit, atypical of what someone would expect. There is someone leaning over the counter, signing forms on a screen.
“Kaytt?”
She stiffens at the sound of his voice and turns around slowly.
Kaytt Corinthos appears both beautiful and shattered. Her red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes reveal all they need to know. The Republic counselor forgoes composure in this time of grief, laughing softly as she shakes her head.
“I knew this would happen one day. I’d been secretly dreading that call for so long that I almost let myself forget about it. I thought, Trichelle’s at university on Etti IV now. She escaped the fate of The Four’s high school friends. Except she didn’t, did she? None of them did. Trichelle, Ples, Roman, Preston – all dead. Muriel and Tobias haven’t been seen in over a year and now everything makes a strange sort of sense. Out of everyone, only Kier and you Alka seem to have survived. But you are living on borrowed time. You must know that by now.”
“Kaytt-“
“No, don’t you dare try to explain. With the Empire involved, I wouldn’t believe you anyway.”
She narrows her dark eyes into hateful slits targeted at Dane.
“Everything the four of you touch turns to ash. Despite what I can only assume is a larger and more ominous plot, it is The Four who are the true monsters here. You destroy everything and for what? Power? Control? Destiny? Your houses have taken from the worlds for the last time. I only hope that one day you feel as empty and helpless as I do now.”
Kaytt storms past them and disappears into the lifts, leaving Dane and Alka bereft at the impact of her words.
What’s worse, they both think darkly, is that she is not wrong.
-TBC
-
Uviuy Exen
The shuttle flares out of hyperspace above a small, circular aubergine mass. Taarek silently guides them into orbit as Demaris debriefs with Gemma and Riley. They are still shaken and trying to process what happened. Riley leans over a console, scrolling through the streaming Holo reports.
“Apparently, the worlds at large believe us dead.”
“No mention of the ship?”
“Strangely, none. Either you guys weren’t detected or the Imperial’s pulled some shit.”
“Knowing them, I’m going with the latter. Demaris, how did you even know to come?”
Demaris wraps a blanket around her shoulders, “Are you kidding? There was a massive disturbance in the Force so we figured you may need an assist. Looks like we were right. What the hell happened?”
Gemma recaps the events leading up to the attack; communicating with Riley’s father, discovering the fates of Muriel and Tobias, freeing the spirits bound to the tower, and finally, the reemergence of the Inquisitor. She breaks down when she recounts Dahlia’s sacrifice.
“She told me to go,” Gemma whispers. “I didn’t want to but I thought if anyone could stop it…”
“Did she?”
She shrugs, “I…don’t know.”
“No word on that either,” Riley calls.
“At least you got everyone else out, right?”
“Not Ples.”
“Or Trichelle.”
Gemma rises from the seat quickly, “What?”
He looks grim, “She died in the hospital last night. I’m sorry.”
Horrified, Gemma turns away. This is ghastly and yet so predictable. How stupid could they be? Bringing the others to Hesperidium when the four of them were together was a risk. Their publicized antics didn’t exactly help anyone keep a low profile. From her brush with fame, the spotlight didn’t bother her enough it seemed. She should have known better. Now, two of the Corporate Sector’s elite youth from ruling families are dead. With their perceived demise, the burden would fall squarely on Dane and Alka.
“Coming in,” Taarek calls over the intercom.
Demaris squeezes her hand and they all head for the pit. The intense purple gas trails pulsate and unravel to reveal a Consular-Class ship, black and beige, modified as an assault cruiser. Riley leans closer to the viewport.
“Whose ship is that?”
Taarek smirks, “Ours. Meet our mobile headquarters, the Capulet.”
“The Lurian’s had the ship hidden beneath the surface and the crew spent the last few months working on. Taarek knows a slicer who is working on credentials but for now, we’re off the grid.”
“Good,” Riley says. “We need a place to chill and think. I can’t just show up on Corellia after all that so we need a plan.”
“Not to mention the Inquisitor problem. Think we’ve seen the last of it?”
“Not likely,” Gemma mutters as Taarek guides them into the shuttle bay. “But there goes our theory. Guess we’re not in the loop.”
Riley nods sadly, “I would say that’s a relief if it wasn’t so morbid.”
“What loop?”
Gemma fills them in on her vision, how she saw the tower destroyed, the Inquisitor and that they seemed to be following the pattern of their predecessors. Five will die. The Four survive. They were convinced things were being orchestrated to put them in that position. It just went too far.
“Six died, not five. Not that it makes things any better.”
Startled, Taarek and Demaris exchange glances.
“There is something you must see.”
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Iobatese Island
Dane reels, feeling both sick and angry. This isn’t how the summer was supposed to go. The trip to the Hessy was all about one last hurrah before diving into business school while learning the ropes of the company. Now, this paradise is tainted.
Accusations on the Holo fly freely as commentators speculate on their role in the Bolerathon Tower incident. Kaytt’s words stung him badly, more so given the fact that she had always been a confidante and legal advisor to the Gellar family. He doesn’t blame her. Even through his rage he knows better than that. The counselor is fully entitled to her feelings. He feels a bit of it himself. The Four, in any incarnation, never brought peace to the galaxy until they were dead. It was the Battle of Centerpoint that beat back the Empire and allowed the Republic to flourish once again.
All these years later, the Empire is back and intertwined so deeply with the Republic that it is only a matter of time before their darkness consumes everyone yet again. The common threads in this turn of events? Them. The Four. Kaytt Corinthos is right. They destroy everything. He is determined to do something about that.
Alka clutches his hand tightly, not loving the hardened look on his face.
“We need to go home."
“I'm not leaving here without concessions.”
He pulls out his com and calls Barrett, demanding an audience with him. Thankfully, they are still on the island and direct them to West Iobatese Beach. Of course. Scores of people killed and his lover lost but the Emperor’s personal ambassador and his contingent of degenerates still manage to wind up in the entertainment district. Dane tries to calm himself but doesn’t have the Force to guide him. He’s only got his wits and a rage so deep he can feel his skin flush.
At a back table in Bistro Bibliotheca, Barret Trevaithan broods with Quentin Swire and Quinn Cavanaugh. Dane and Alka approach, pulling up chairs to sit across from them. By the wary look on his face, it appears Barrett may be feeling this more than he let on. He’s still not going to let him get away with this so easily.
“We need to talk.”
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear.”
Suppressing the urge to leap across the table and strangle him, Dane takes a breath.
“Would you consider a caveat?”
Quentin arches a brow, Quinn completely oblivious, but Barrett seems intrigued.
“I’m listening.”
“What’s the word on the investigation?”
“Leaning toward power cell failure in the Bolerathon Tower which caused a chain reaction and destroyed the building. Why?”
Alka is disgusted with their ability to be so casual when so many people died but keeps her mouth shut.
Dane doesn’t take his eyes off Barrett’s face.
“In order for us to sell your version of events, I need the three of you to attest that Gemma and Riley left Hesperidium the night before the attack and adjust the flight records accordingly."
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Did I stutter?”
Barrett leans forward, “I’m sure you're familiar with the term ‘liability.’ People are going to want someone to blame. Celeste Masterton once owned the building but, upon her death, ownership transferred to Gemma. If she’s “alive,” the families of the victims will go after her seeking restitution and justice. With that body count, they’d bleed her dry. Financially speaking. So, Riley’s escape can be worked into the “official story” but sadly, Gemma’s cannot. Consider that me looking out for you.”
“Find another story.”
“What?”
“The cause,” Dane snaps. “Find another source of the explosion that doesn’t implicate her.”
Quentin smirks, “You forget the type of people who go on holiday here. Bored, rich, and litigious. Even if we conjured up something closer to the truth, people still died. They will blame anyone to try and make sense of a senseless tragedy. Dahlia really screwed her on this, Maker rest her soul.”
“Shut up, Q.”
"Then blame Dahlia."
"Not happening."
"If she's gone, the public can take comfort in the fact that they were right about another Winton. There's precedent here and you know it. It's both compelling and viable."
"It won't work like that, trust me."
“So, like, Dahlia’s dead or something? Escara is going to be so pissed. We have a shoot next month.”
Alka glances from her to Barrett and Quentin, “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t think we have time to get into that.”
“Seriously,” she says. “Quinn, you don’t remember anything that happened at the tower?”
“What tower?”
“We were attacked. You fought that thing. Your shuttle crashed. I saw you pull Quentin out of the water.”
Quinn looks confused, looking to Quentin for answers.
“Officially,” he says venomously. “None of that happened.”
“Scapegoating Dahlia is not on the table. We can change the narrative to clear Riley but Gemma is too much a risk. Her reputation and Jedi allegiance don’t do her any favors in this climate. I know you feel like you are getting the raw end of this deal so, if there is a way to absolve Gemma as well, I will.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
-TBC
-
Uviuy Exen
Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet
Gemma is reunited with the rest of the Jedi crew.
They come forward to express their happiness at her return. Even Shendo, still hanging back, seems relieved. There is also an underlying tension, something they are not saying, that permeates the air. Gemma can feel it but doesn’t want to dampen the mood. Oz, Sirona, and Shendo depart with Taarek for the command deck, leaving Demaris talking softly with Lysette. She takes Riley’s hand and they join them.
“Everything okay?”
“Look, Gemma,” Demaris says. “I wasn’t completely honest when I told you it was just the Force disturbance that let us know you were in trouble. We felt that too but we were already here, in this system.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If it wasn’t that then what?”
Beneath the hood, Lysette adjusts the crimson cloth and speaks softly, “I saw it. The vision you had was one we shared…from different angles. I saw the ring of flames on the sand, the Inquisitor attacking you, and then the tower exploded. I knew then we had to come. I knew you were in danger.”
“That’s incredible,” Riley says. "I didn't know it worked like that."
"It doesn't."
“It’s not the first time she’s led us to discovery. I have to show you something, something I didn’t believe myself when I first saw it. But it’s true. He’s alive.”
“Who?”
Demaris leads them through the ship, down a long gray corridor where she opens the door to a small stateroom. She steps aside as Gemma and Riley come around the corner. A blue-skinned young man they never thought they’d see again rises off the bed.
Gemma gasps, “Roman.”
*
Corporate Sector
D’ian
With his shuttle submerged off the coast of Imperial Beach, Dane had to charter them a flight back to the Sector. It was a long journey but one that was filled with reflection and rage. Alka tries to comfort him, alternating between giving him space and holding him when he needed it. He is all over the place emotionally; pissed that they are caught in the Imperial lie, quietly devastated that Dahlia’s gone, and consumed with dread that he would have to face the Direx Board ExO after his son was eviscerated in front of them.
There is some comfort in knowing they are home. Alka was right, they needed to return. One more moment on that beach and he would have lost it. It took everything he had just to leave the meeting with Barrett without resorting to violence. Alka has been a trooper and got him through but soon she’ll leave him as well to begin at the Oviette Academy. Dane doesn’t know what he’ll do on his own – no parents, no siblings – and he shutters to think. He’s in a dark place but needs to keep it together.
On the way to the surface, he checks through the business account he’d been neglecting for months. Standard fare awaits; P&L statements, monthly variance reports, and contracts. Things he’d be responsible for one day. He made contact with Irulan on the trip and she seemed more than a little relieved to hear from him. She would go over everything as soon as he was settled but did mention a new Imperial liaison had been appointed to replace Vex Sienna. His name is Burke Pallus and all Dane can think is great, another Imperial in the mix. He’s had just about enough of them to last a lifetime yet he knows they are a necessary evil. So long as they held a stake in ChemiX, they always would be.
Back at the Gellar Estate, he taps in his code and shuffles inside. No luggage to haul, nothing to unpack. Everything was incinerated in the Bolerathon Tower. He couldn’t stand any more banter on the Holo as the conversation became increasingly divisive and personal. It bordered on conspiracy and this time they aren’t all that far off.
He catches movement in the corner of his eye across the foyer. Alka watches his expression change and frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
Pulling out his blaster and keeping Alka behind him, Dane moves closer. There is someone standing on the far side of the living room, staring through the windows to the forest beyond.
“Who are you?” Dane barks, training the blaster on him. “What are you doing here?”
The figure stiffens and turns.
“Garron?”
*
Coruscant
Surface
The planet’s reformation and subsequent terraforming have baffled Imperial scientists. There had been no assistance or technology used to begin this process and the speed at which it occurred has never been seen. Scans were run hourly as they searched for answers. The only lead was a pulse of energy that originated from Hesperidium several hours before the planet began to turn. Their investigation into the phenomenon was derailed by the Bolerathon Tower incident. The scans continued without returning much insight until a massive blip set off all their sensors. Their equipment surged as it lit up with…something. A massive sphere of energy concentrated in a singular location. Then, confirmation. A lifeform.
There is a team dispatched immediately composed of a handful of scientists and a small contingent of ISB agents. The shuttle lands on a grassy hill that opens up into a sprawling field. The atmosphere is stable and no one needs a mask. The scientists set out with their readings, leading the agents into the field. There appears to be a formation in the center, four slivers of rock that stretch up toward the sky. They look like roughly cut daggers, at least from this distance.
They are getting closer.
The signal is coming from the formation and so they move on. As they grow closer, one of the agent’s spots something on the ground. They draw their weapons and close in. It is a humanoid, lying motionless in the shadow cast by all four of the rocks. They recognize her instantly but there are so many questions. How could she be here? Nothing has been cleared for the surface. Only one of the agents can get the words out.
“Princess Dahlia.”
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Iobatese Island: West Iobatese Beach
From the western tip of the island, Barrett gazes out over the blue expanse toward Diamant Island. The smoke may have dissipated but the missing tower still makes for a jarring view. He’s got to hand it to Dane for trying to negotiate but they both know he’s right. Everything about this needs to be handled carefully. Although not an ideal position to be in, Gellar and Dawning need to sell it to the Direx Board. The lie. Maybe even her more than him. Alka Dawning’s father is a ranking member and a known opponent of the Gellar family. Her ability to influence his perspective could provide context to a grieving Iver Aguilar. The new liaison should be in place and would see to it that she did because no one can know.
If anyone so much as suspected that a Winton was responsible for this the worlds at large would come for them. Most tend to forget history as it fades but a devastating reminder of a galactic threat is the quickest way to get the public mobilized behind a cause. He won’t let that happen. Containing the situation and controlling the narrative is the best way to mitigate the potential blowback. However, he slipped up mentioning the Sith in front of a known Jedi. The mistake will cost him at some point.
That’s about the only thing he’s certain of at this point.
Quentin stands near the water, staring down as he sinks lower and lower into the sand with every wave. He’s hurting too but Barrett doesn’t need that shit right now. It’s just as well. His feelings for Dahlia were never going to lead anywhere good. That was a part of the thrill. Quinn gathers seashells, finding one that resembles a spiraled dagger and feigns stabbing herself in the heart while the breeze carefully lifts her platinum blonde hair away from her tanned shoulders.
She is a beautiful void that neither man fully understands.
Barrett feels marginalized by a lack of information and wonders if what Darth Erinbol said was true. They are compromised. It would explain a lot. B & Q are on the same page about one thing; the attack. It didn’t seem accidental. With the Empire, things seldom are. There was a precision that belied intention. According to Erinbol, the Emperor sent the Inquisitor after them. The Jedi makes sense. But the others? It’s too risky given that it places relations with the CSA in direct conflict with the outcome. That means either one of two things could be true – the Emperor has taken things too far with whatever properties pump through Gellar’s veins or the attack was supposed to trigger that reaction. He’d read all the files. Alexia Winton was a timebomb who left wanton destruction in her wake. Karen was tested in a similar manner and showed promising results. Was this Dahlia’s test? Did the Emperor really need to know what he was up against?
The loss of life would have made it a costly endeavor.
His mind drifts back to the conversation of his connection to the Force. Not light, not dark – what does that even mean? Does he even want to explore it? Barrett is not even sure how much he can trust Erinbol despite his curiously accurate disclaimer. His stomach churns with confliction coursing through him. The sand beneath him begins to vibrate when his com-pad bleeps. He withdraws it from his pocket and turns to shield the screen from the setting sun. It is a message from the commanding agent in charge of the precinct.
Report to the medical center immediately.
-TBC
-
Uviuy Exen
Orbit: Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet
Riley leaves Gemma with Roman.
Although he knew the Chiss, the reunion of old friends takes precedence now. No doubt they would have much to discuss and catch up on. Demaris nudges him in the ribs, a throwback to their sparring sessions back on Corellia, and shows him the modest command deck. What it lacks in coolness it makes up for in function. The ship is stately and formal, something befitting of a diplomat, but seems to clash with the youthfulness and diversity of their crew. The weapons are a nice touch and probably for the best. It had most likely been retrofitted during the Clone Wars but who knows how long the Lurian’s had this hidden beneath their icy outpost. He wonders who it belonged to and what brought it to Lur in the first place. Given the peaceful nature of the Lurian’s, a diplomat or Jedi seem like a fitting guest. Riley imagines them showing their guests the hospitality of home and suddenly he is thinking about Corellia. His home. It is a place he’s never really felt a part of, not since the Patten Ranch was destroyed.
“I’ve got to make a call.”
“Sure,” Demaris says, “I’ll give you some privacy.”
As she joins Taarek at the controls, Riley calls Director Elon Veritaas. Out of everyone, he would have been the most concerned. Donovan had sensed his longing before he left and was more apt to understand. Veritaas had been a watchful and supportive mentor and he feels the pangs of guilt over waiting this long to reach out. The Director is relieved but knows their time is brief. He says the CorSec cadets have been asking after him, especially Cassidy. Riley feels like a terrible friend having been wrapped up in so much of this drama. In Gemma. It’s not like they don’t understand. There are larger things at work here, things he is only beginning to understand.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he says and clicks off the com-link. Riley sighs, staring as the swirling purple glow pulsing through the viewport, resentment at Aunt Mara's abandonment washing through him. Something about this place is bringing everything to the surface. He feels emotionally disjointed yet safe which doesn't make any sense. The light isn’t as bright as he expected it to be and throws a flattering lavender tint over everything. Demaris rejoins him when she sees he’s free but catches the look on his face.
“What is it?”
“You know I’m going to ask,” Riley says.
Demaris smirks, “Roman was on Kijimi. It’s a long story.”
“I’m sure,” he says, glancing over at the young Miralukan knelt silently in meditation. “And Lysette led you to him, just as she led you to us?”
She nods, “She warned us the first time we faced the Inquisitor on Jedha. She seems to have precognitive abilities although the timeframes aren’t always consistent. They also seem to be connected to us, people she has formed an emotional bond with.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Typically, we can sense each other through the Force. Each of us has a signature that is unique and, if properly attuned and you know what you are looking for, you can find each other that way. There are ways to suppress it, naturally and chemically, but it takes focus. Lysette is different as she sees beyond that signature. There is a deeper part of the Force she has access to, a place none of us have been able to find.”
“You sound vaguely worried."
She shrugs, leaning against the black railing.
“It’s unusual but interesting. Not everyone shares the same kind of connection to the Force. Emotions can be an asset if you are honest about them.”
“Is that from the Jedi handbook?”
“It’s from experience, Riley.”
“And what is your experience telling you about Roman?”
The light deepens the color of Demaris’ hair which she brushes away from her face and sighs.
“That you may have been right. You said you thought you were on a loop, repeating patterns from the original prophecy. Gemma said it couldn’t be because six died…but it wasn’t six. Roman didn't die. It was five. Five will die.”
“The Four survive,” he whispers.
That is assuming Dahlia didn't perish in the fallout. That's a big "if." It simmers over them uncomfortably, the thought of fate being what it is, and then dissipates into a sobering clarity. He prays that it isn’t the case and they aren’t careening headfirst toward a repeat of the bloodbath and ultimately concluding chapter to their predecessor’s story. Demaris doesn’t let him get too deep down that road yet.
“Roman was concerned about Alia, you know. What happened to her? I felt bad that I didn’t know what to tell him.”
“Don’t,” he says. “She’s chosen a side.”
“What do you mean?”
“Alia ran off with some woman who tried to kill us both. Gemma believes she’s a Sith and, given the circumstances, I would have to agree. She was in bad shape and I’ve heard how easily the dark side can sway you in a low moment.”
“The dark side appears to give you answers but they are often easy and lead to compromise. What circumstances?”
“Barrett only came back to Hesperidium because an advisor warned him about the Inquisitor – a Sith advisor.”
“The Empire sent it? Well, no surprises there. I think we pretty much assumed.”
“Maybe,” he says. “That's to say the Sith and Empire are working together with the same goals. Considering how close the Republic and Empire have become having a Sith advising the Emperor probably isn’t a good sign in either case. The Inquisitor didn’t just come there for Gemma.”
“What?”
"It wanted us all dead. Ples was gone before we even knew what was happening. I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head. The Inquisitor would have succeeded too if it wasn’t for Dahlia, like, exploding. I think it would have killed the Imperial’s as well including Barrett if he’d been there.”
"Maybe Barrett knew."
"I'm not so sure. He was a wreck on the beach. Those weren't the actions of someone who knew this was coming."
“Why would they neutralize their own assets? And the Emperor’s hand? That seems counterintuitive.”
“Unless,” Riley says solemnly. “They are loose ends too.”
-TBC
-
Hesperidium
Surface: Iobatese Island
Barrett has been constructing their cover story in his head. Over and over again. The plasma cells powering the Bolerathon Tower could theoretically have all combusted and caused an explosion. It wouldn’t have been quite as destructive perhaps but plausible enough. With some clever manipulations, he could place Muriel Monroe and Tobias Harken in the tower as well and effectively end that speculation and clear Dahlia from suspicion. Despite the inevitable protest of those who were present, contradicting that storyline would implicate them. Things were coming together in a way he thought may actually get them out of this when it all comes crashing down.
At the medical center, Agent Gris is waiting for him and they enter a restricted area together. At the end of a short and brightly lit corridor, two ISB agents flank the door of a single room. Gris doesn’t explain himself and pauses at the door. Barrett turns with an inquisitive glare. The agent simply motions inside and follows behind the ambassador. The silhouette of an occupied bed is clearly visible through the curtain that separates the room. He pulls it back to reveal an unconscious Dahlia lying peacefully between the crisp, white sheets. She’d appreciate that even the medical center spared no expense. His heart drops and a surge of emotion washes through him. Followed by question after question after question – that the agent standing behind him does not ignore.
“About your statement.”
Gris doesn’t even check his datapad. He doesn’t have to. They all said the same thing. Princess Dahlia Winton was in the Bolerathon Tower. It had been an integral piece of the lie because no one could have expected anything other than what they all know went down. He pulls it together quickly.
“What about it?”
“You said she died in that explosion yet here she is.”
“As far as we knew she did.”
“No,” Gris says, joining him at Dahlia’s bedside. “She wasn’t in that tower. She was on Coruscant.”
The comment lands as intended.
He jerks away in shock and turns to face him, “Coruscant? How?”
“We were hoping you could tell us.”
“Clearly, you have a theory.”
“You are deflecting, Ambassador and you are not nearly as charming or clueless as your cohort Quinn. You said she was in the tower so, how did she get from the tower to the surface of a planet that shouldn’t exist without detection? Unless…”
“Unless nothing,” Barrett bites out. “As ambassador to the Emperor, I do not answer to you.”
“It is under the Emperor’s authority that I am asking. He wants you both back on Byss immediately. Swire and Cavanaugh are free to return to Chandaar – for now. The princess’ status is not to be disclosed, even to them. We’ll prep Dahlia for transport.”
He does not protest and nods.
If Emperor Schrag truly believed him compromised, as Erinbol said, this absolute garbage fire of a situation would demand answers. He has failed and must answer for this as he had intended to do before the Sith twisted his head around. Barrett is not sure what to believe now but that Dahlia is alive is enough to stave off the feelings of defeat.
He moves further up the bed, curling his hand in hers. She is beautiful and serene. How the hell did she get there? The logistics alone are impossible. Everything about what happened at the Bolerathon Tower is. On Byss, he may have to answer for this but he would demand answers as well.
-TBC
-
Uviuy Exen
Orbit: Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet
Several members of the Jedi crew spar with each other, sabers clashing as they flip and twirl in a balletic display of skill and control. They had gotten good. Very good. They work well together as a team now but it had been a long road. After their near-defeat at Jedha, they needed to heal and regroup. While Gemma had been away, they had gotten close and that makes Lady Masterton the outsider in a band of outsiders.
Demaris Atrii contemplates her discussion with Riley, drawing nearer to the conclusion that the Inquisitor would only have tried to eliminate the Empire’s assets as a means of retaliation. Or precaution. Many of them represent a potential threat to Schrag’s strategic and now seemingly well-secured throne. Peace with the Republic, if that’s what they call that, was a smart move. Chandaar is a teaming cesspit of conspiracy and paranoia thanks to them. Barrett’s slip of the tongue to Riley and Gemma on Hesperidium confirms a terrible theory she floated to a surprisingly receptive Taarek – the Sith have been behind this all along.
If they were looking to recruit, there was no better candidate than Alia. She was never going to be on the straight-and-narrow, despite Roman’s hopefulness. She did not want to be saved. And for what? A death that never happened. Roman didn’t die but Alia doesn’t know that. How could she? No one can know. His father, Balthazar Nash, had been driven back to Csilla and his company under the interim control of a no-doubt Imperial-friendly pro tempore. Demaris would like to think Roman’s survival would have kept Alia from crossing sides but she isn’t stupid. Alia was exactly who the dark side of the Force had been waiting for.
Great, she thinks, just what they need; another enemy.
The loop theory tugs at her thoughts as well. Roman may have survived but Dahlia did not. It again throws the theory into question but there is something about it Demaris cannot shake. If those that came before them weren’t the first Four and events were shaped to produce similar results then it would imply an outside influence. The Sith may be the convenient obvious choice but there is one thing they haven’t really focused on enough – the identity of the Inquisitor.
“What if it’s the Inquisitor?”
Taarek and Riley, engaged in conversation nearby, turn to her suddenly.
“What about it?”
“We don’t know who it is,” she says. “In fact, I don’t think anyone has even stopped to ask. Riley, you see events playing out in ways that mirror the past but why?”
“Shit luck?”
“Twist of fate?”
She smiles but shakes her head, “Not so in the previous case. The Holo-doc postulated that Alexander Winton had been scheming behind the scenes all along. He rigged the game. So, if you see it happening again, who’s pulling the strings now?”
Riley’s head tilts left in thought, “You think it’s the Inquisitor?”
“Traditionally,” Taarek says. “The Inquisitor’s do the bidding of others as a means of enforcement and punishment. They aren’t the masterminds, just the ruthless muscle.”
“Perhaps but Emperor Schrag doesn’t strike me as superstitious and trying to fulfill a prophecy where he’s not on the throne seems counter-intuitive. He’s too smart for that which is why dispatching them makes more sense.”
“So, the Inquisitor was sent to eliminate these threats but is secretly plotting to overthrow Schrag? I dunno, Demaris. The Inquisitor seemed pretty intent on taking us down. You weren’t there, you don’t know what it was like.”
She raises her hands; palms open as a sign of non-hostility.
“I’m not trying to minimize the trauma you suffered but let’s look at the facts as you presented them. The Inquisitor sought out your group but was only directly responsible for one death – Ples Aguilar. Trichelle Corinthos later died as a result of her injuries. Dahlia and, presumably, the Inquisitor, died by her hand, er, powers. Who is to say Ples and Trichelle weren’t the intended targets? No one knew Dahlia was going to react like that.”
“Dahlia’s dead,” Taarek says sternly. “Even if the Inquisitor had an agenda, it failed. The prophecy came to pass before because of a loophole – Riley survived the Battle of Centerpoint. If someone was trying to conversely fulfill it where a Winton rules over a dark Empire, they blew their chance when that tower went down. There is no course to correct now. It’s over.”
“Let's hope so,” Riley sighs wearily. “You do, however, bring up a good point. We don’t know who the Inquisitor was or what it wanted but now we may never get a chance. There hasn’t been any word out of Hesperidium on the incident so my question is – where do we go from here?”
“You and Gemma are supposedly dead and we’re being hunted. I guess that puts major systems out of the running given the expansive reach of the Republic whose borders are being secured by Imperial forces.”
“We could always escape into the Unknown Regions until we figure things out.”
“Are you insane? That’s potential suicide.”
“We can’t stay here among the Colonies. It’s enemy territory as far as we’re concerned. I say we ride to the end of the Hydian Way and cool off in the Outer Rim. There are plenty of remote options like Anoth, Kinooine or Skye.”
Demaris looks concerned, “That’s the edge of Wild Space, no? Somehow that’s even scarier than the Unknown Regions.”
“Being found and captured before we have a plan is worse. I vote we head rimward.”
“The others must have a say as well. It’s their lives too.”
Taarek nods, “Make it quick. Even under the cover of Uviuy Exen’s glow, we are not safe here.”
-TBC
-
Korriban
Surface
In the darkness of the caves, there is only fear. Fear is the first step. It is the foundation of the dark side of the Force laid in its barest of forms. Caught in the deepest throes of it is Alia. She is hunched on the ground, panting for breath as the sting of the last cut fades. Adubell is somewhere in the darkness, taunting her. Waiting. Testing. Alia had endured much since their journey but it was her spitefulness that always did her in. The glow of the saber appears in the periphery to her right but before she can act, the tip of the blade sears across her shoulder before hissing out.
“Still too slow. You are worthless.”
“Not according to my trust fund,” Alia bites out, laughing.
It does not amuse Adubell.
“You sound like her. The ungrateful bitch. She allows herself to be sidelined by feelings and friends. What have I told you?”
“There is no such thing. Only allies and enemies, yeah, got it.”
“Do you?”
Another cut across the top of her leg. Alia growls but does not scream. Not anymore. She had screamed a lot in the beginning. She did not expect the training the Sith women spoke of to involve such levels of torture. There is a fair amount of pain she can withstand, usually involving pleasure, but this was different. This was real.
“I have no friends,” she spits out. “They made that perfectly clear.”
“You had one.”
“Roman wasn’t a friend, he was strategic collateral that I was…unable to collect.”
“Now he is gone and you are alone.”
“I’m good with that.”
Adubell’s laugh is like a shard of ice run across Alia’s spine. She knows the girl has strength and fortitude but she is still weak. The Chiss have an advantage in emotional detachment. That is not to say they do not feel, they are just more tactful with it than most. Her grief over Roman’s loss, rage at his family for what they had done, and spitefulness at Gemma and the Jedi’s attempts to control her played right into her plans. She had finally found a worthy apprentice, one that would force Dahlia’s hand into becoming what she was meant to be.
“Good enough to do what D’Cera could not?”
“Try me.”
“Fool,” she hisses, unseen in the blackness that surrounds her. “You are not yet ready. D’Cera pledged her allegiance to the Sith and me as her Master and failed.”
“She’s a princess.”
“A princess who delivered the Republic into the Empire’s hands. Not an easy feat. That takes cunning but she lacks your ruthlessness, something the Jedi tried to contain.”
“Try being the operative word.”
The glow appears and so does another cut, “You are weak.”
Alia grinds her teeth and wills herself to her feet. Her nude body, toned and blue-hued, is covered in dozens of equally sized wounds. Anticipation had given way to fear and despair which now transforms into a guttural rage.
“Enough! If it is fealty you want, you have it. Show me your ways and you shall have vengeance against them all!"
The saber’s glow illuminates her but there is no attack. Adubell’s taunt grey face appears behind it. Alia does not flinch, even as the blade hums loudly beside her. It had taken months but she had broken her. She would not ask for her allegiance. It is not a question but a conclusion she had come to in her own time.
“You pledge yourself to me.”
“Yes.”
“And the Sith.”
Alia’s eyes reflect the intensity of the blade, “And the Sith.”
-TBC
-
Uviuy Exen
Orbit: Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet
The plan is proposed to the others who have gathered in the salon pod.
Murmuring among the crew signals ambivalence, uncertainty or both. No one knows where to go next but they are in agreement about not being able to remain where they are. The Republic-Imperial truce leaves much of the known galaxy inaccessible to them. The more remote worlds in the Outer Rim or on the fringe of Wild Space may pose dangers if someone blew their cover or decided to cash in on anti-Jedi sentiment. Even Lur, their frozen fortress of safety, was too close to the Corporate Sector for a Jedi sanctuary. Everywhere seemed like a trap. The Unknown Regions are proposed as an alternative but it is not long before the whispers of superstition creep into their banter.
The mythos surrounding the Unknown Regions have impacted each of them differently. Sirona, the Twi’lek and Shendo, a Nagai both seem particularly distressed by the prospect. Although Shendo is part of an extragalactic species, they learned previously that he had not been back to the Firefist galaxy since he was taken from Nagi as a child. Conversely, Oz, the Irodonian, is all for it come what may. Riley is thrilled with the prospect of an adventure and Gemma knows that with the anti-Jedi sentiment spreading across the galaxy they are running out of options. Demaris is wigged but Taarek is open-minded. Only the young Miralukan and presumed-dead Chiss refrain from the lively discussion.
The issue of navigation understandably arises as entry to the UR involves passing through The Tangle. Stories of explorers being driven insane or never returning are not uncommon in any of their homeworlds. Sirona knew Twi’lek that had been abducted by slavers on Ryloth then taken into the Unknown Regions never to be heard from again. Gemma and Demaris admit the tales made it out to the Corporate Sector, things their friends heard from their parents who heard it from clients traveling in from all over the galaxy. They made for perfect stories around a fire out on Viperii Lake; monsters, black holes, and madness lurking amongst the stars. It doesn’t seem quite as impressive now that they’ve seen monsters for themselves. Still, there is no discounting the dangers. It’s unmapped territory.
“Not for the navigator.”
It is Lysette’s small voice that draws their attention.
“Ly, the droids can only pull from available stellar geography. There isn’t enough for them to go on to ensure our safety.”
“Not them,” the Miralukan says, raising her arm to point across the table at Roman. “Him.”
Although he had accompanied Gemma to the meeting, Roman had said nothing thus far. He had been tight-lipped since his rescue and, considering what he went through, everyone was happy to give him space. They turn to him now as they realize he is the only one of them to have been beyond recently. Csilla, the Chiss Ascendancy homeworld, lies in the Unknown Regions. His last trip had been a little over a year ago. His father’s plan involved him returning with Alia after graduation but things are different now. Preston is dead and Alia is gone.
Gemma glances over, “Roman, is that true? Can you get us through?”
“Not from the end of Hydian Way, where captain Cirque suggested we go. We need to connect to the Perlemian and ride to its end in the Deep Core.”
Demaris gazes at him quizzically, “Doesn’t it end at Coruscant…where we just were?”
Roman shakes his head, “It extends beyond that. The actual and lesser-traveled end is at N’Zoth.”
She gasps, “The Yevetha will slaughter us all.”
“Fair point,” Taarek interjects evenly. “But let’s hear him out.”
Roman stands and moves in front of the hologram pad, keying up a galactic display. A few simple strokes on the controls and the N’Zoth system swirls over the pad.
“Their third moon, Pa’red, is where we exit and recalculate to get us through the Tangle.”
“Say that is true,” Shendo says lowly, the hypnotic nature of his voice easing some of the tension. “You can get us there. This is a consular ship. Even with our sliced diplomatic credentials, it may not be recognized on the other side. Our stolen status won’t provide the cover if they are with us.”
Attention shifts to Gemma and Riley.
“Hey! Where the hell else are we supposed to go?”
“Two members of the fabled Four presents a liability.”
Gemma apprises him carefully, “I disagree. It may be the only place that doesn’t know about any of us.”
“She’s right,” Demaris says. “As much as I hate to admit it because the thought of what could be out there is terrifying, she’s right. Anything in the Unknown Regions enjoys the luxury of not having to deal with our drama. We can just disappear.”
“Literally and figuratively,” Sirona quips.
“We’ve got two years’ worth of supplies but minimal firepower with the exception of the cruiser armament and a handful of lightsabers.”
Roman taps off the display, “What if I told you I knew of a secret cache.”
“A cache of what?”
“Weapons manufactured by Palace Arms.”
All eyes are on intently on him now.
“My father is always prepared. The cache is hidden just outside the Ascendancy’s reach but close enough to defend their borders or provide cover to escape. Defense and contingency are why the Chiss have endured. I was angling to get my hands on it when I ran into transport trouble on Kijimi. Luckily, help was already on the way.”
Demaris grins, glad to have been able to help. The other Jedi are more wary of him. He had foisted Alia on them only for her to walk right into the belly of the beast. Gemma tried to contextualize this for them to show he had done so out of love but they are wary of her as well. They had had time to lower their walls around Taarek and Demaris. Not so with Lady Masterton who always seemed embroiled within the public eye. Gemma and by extension Riley pose an ever-present and intangible danger. Demaris, who would normally vehemently disagree, knows Gemma had used elements of Sith magics to release the souls trapped within the Bolerathon Tower. She had questioned their devotion before but this was crossing a line.
At least one of them truly believes in this course of action.
“We found you so that you could take us there,” Lysette says. “It is the will of the Force.”
Gemma is not sure she accepts that and refrains from asking Roman what he planned to do with those weapons if and when he got them. She doesn’t have to. She can feel it. He would take his revenge. Even though she does not condone that course of action, Gemma will not pass judgment. If someone took Riley from her, she wonders if she’d be able to suppress those dark impulses. The impulses the Inquisitor commanded she embrace.
Taarek breaks the spell, “Do we have a consensus?”
Everyone gives the somewhat reluctant affirmative. The Unknown Regions it is.
In the cockpit, Demaris straps in next to Gemma. They share a look but it is drawn away by Roman as he hops into the chair next to Taarek. They confirm the coordinates and prepare the ship for the jump to lightspeed. With a steady hand, Taarek eases the cruiser away from Uviuy Exen’s vibrant purple glow. He nods to Roman, pulling back on the controls, as the cruiser leaps toward the edge of the Deep Core.
-TBC
-
N’Zoth
The Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet flares out of hyperspace above the moon Pa’red.
Roman is already quick at work replotting a course through The Tangle. His father had done this on every journey, risking Yevethan detection to find the safest route home. Strange things happen beyond the known regions. Things that may terrify his human companions.
He glances back at the others, “It is best for all of you to remain in your cabins, away from any viewports, during this portion of the trip.”
Demaris is understandably wary, “Why is that?”
“Have you heard of Hyperrapture?”
“Only as a scare tactic,” Gemma says. “Is that…something we should be concerned with?”
Roman nods, “The stories are true. Those who haven’t gone beyond are subject to the psychosis. Hyperspace travel is not fully understood although the convenience prevents most from exploring that line of thought. You are essentially traveling across a different plane of existence that can be much different going through the Tangle.”
“How so?” Taarek asks.
“There are things that appear within the white and blue tunnel. Esoteric and existential things that can be profound to some and nightmarish to others. Not everyone is ready to face what it means to look into that void. There are mythological and supernatural aspects to the galaxy that are seldom spoken of because it does not fit neatly into a politically structured, consumerist narrative. I have experienced this journey many times and will see us through.”
He reaches out to tap on a small holoprojector that displays the Chiss Ascendancy territory and focuses on a fringe planet.
“Yashuvhu is on our eastern border. It had been colonized by humans that crash-landed there at some point. The hyperspace disturbance cut them off from the rest of the galaxy but the last I heard the Chiss had wiped them out.”
“The Chiss occupy the world now?”
“No,” Roman says. “It is much too warm for them to reside there permanently. However, it is choked in dense jungles and treacherous mountain ranges which makes it the perfect hiding spot. The cache is in a bunker hidden in the base of the Yashaka Mountains. Remember, contingencies are second nature to the Chiss.”
“Then won’t your father be ready for someone to plunder it? Surely there is some sort of security.”
“I’m the only other person who knows about it,” he says evenly. “And I’m dead. He’s not expecting to be robbed by a ghost. Alia and I were the sole heirs of our ruling families and the vacuum left behind by our absences are sure to have ignited a power-struggle not seen in a generation. Combined with being driven from the Corporate Sector and the fate of Palace Arms uncertain, he’s likely far too busy to be thinking about anything other than his survival.”
An alarm slices through the moment of exposition.
Taarek checks the scanner, “Aramadia-class thrustship entering Pa’red’s orbit.”
“Go,” Roman says, easing the cruiser away from the moon. “I’ll let you know when we’re set to arrive at our destination.”
Taarek pats him on the shoulder and follows Demaris through the door.
Gemma leans down and kisses him lightly on the cheek.
“Thank you, Ro.”
He gives them ample time to return to their cabins and, with the Yevethan warship gaining, makes the jump to lightspeed. The grid of stars is pulled into a brilliant white blur as they leap into the unknown. They are taking a considerable risk – harboring and accompanying him – but he is grateful. It had been a long road to get here, one that saw him confront the man he thought he was.
Months ago, emotionally destroyed by the loss of his lover Preston and the cruelty of his parents for their part in it, Roman forced a confrontation on Etti IV. It did not go well and ended as he leaped from the tower in anguish and protest – appearing to die. In reality, he was thrown onto a balcony several stories below where he lay, injured, for two days. His foot had slipped on the railing and he never quite got the distance from the tower needed to end his life in a jump. Those two days were illuminating and he reflected on everything that got him there in the first place.
He was a Chiss raised among humanoids in the Corporate Sector and subsequently viewed as an outsider by both. If it wasn’t for his friendship with Dane and Gemma as well as his burgeoning relationship with Preston, Roman isn’t sure he would have survived. It was hatred, pure and simple, that propelled him to live while the lives of his parents unraveled several stories above him. With the owners likely at their summer house on D’ian, he broke into the residence with just enough time to catch up on news of his “death.” Better still, other members of the Direx Board turned on his father. Justice for Preston was exacted as his parents retreated back to Csilla.
He disguised himself with clothing found within the residence, a full body suit and satchel with a helmet from the collection displayed in the office. The mask was black with a raised silver ridge that ran across the eyes and down the front, reminiscent of one a stoic but formidable bounty hunter would wear. He yearned for the opportunity to be anything other than who he was and this was his chance. He set fire to the residence to cover his tracks and disappeared into the city. Using Authority Cash Vouchers pillaged from the residence, Roman stopped by an exchange outside the Mondder spaceport and collected the currency on a datacard. It was enough to buy his way out of the CSA on a ship with a group of questionable individuals who he later came to discover were members of the Spice Runners smuggling gang. He had to improvise, calling himself Avinarius. Thankfully, no one was interested in the story of his life. They returned to Kijimi where Roman was pleased to discover the world both frigid and remote.
That was about the time his luck ran out.
The little currency he had left wasn’t going to get him into the Unknown Regions so the Spice Runners employed him on small and seemingly innocuous missions for them. He intended to save up what he earned to buy his way out but the smugglers had other plans. His inventive hiding places for their cargo, especially in plain sight, was seen as an asset they could not allow to leave. Roman hatched a plan to skim some of their spice and sell it in order buy his way off-world. Before he could make what would surely have been a mistake, a blind girl walked in and changed his life.
On a particularly stormy night, he took refuge with a few fellow smugglers in a dark tavern deep in the Thieves Quarter. While his cohorts drank and whored the night away, he kept to the corners when a girl seemed to appear out of nowhere. She could not have been more than twelve, wearing a tan hooded robe with a blindfold stretched across her eyes. No one seemed to even notice her. She called herself Lysette, extending a hand and asking that he come with her.
Even now, he doesn’t know why he went. Something about her presence dampened the constant tightness of loss in his chest. The ache had been an ever-present and driving force. He had done things he wasn’t proud of – smuggling spice, a grief-fueled tryst with a humanoid stranger, considering theft and betrayal for-profit, lying to everyone about who he was – that he was a shadow of his former self. Off the rails and unsupervised for the first time in his life. The girl presented a moment of peace. She led him back through the Quarter to a shuttle on the cliffs containing the Jedi Demaris Atrii and Taarek Cirque.
In hiding with the Jedi, he silently watched Dane and Gemma’s adventures on Hesperidium turn from juicy hologossip into a nightmare that killed several thousand people. The girl knew about that too and they moved to intercept. They were too late, for Ples and Trichelle at least. Princess Dahlia, it seemed, went down with the Bolerathon Tower. He had been careful to avoid the Winton in the past, even before he knew who she really was. Dahlia had a glint in her emerald eyes that always seem to imply she knew everyone’s secrets. All that mattered was that Dane and Gemma were safe and they were now hurtling into the Unknown Regions.
His thoughts drift to Preston, to Alia. Roman failed both of them. Justice may have been exacted…but not vengeance.
That he would take himself.
-TBC
-
Unknown Regions
The Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet appears suddenly in orbit above Yashuvhu.
Roman quickly scans the system but finds it devoid of any lurking Chiss. Although it lay on the border of their territory, the warm, humid climate made it an unattractive location. Most of them avoided it altogether which puts the odds of evading detection in their favor – for now. It had been a bumpy ride, staring into the ethereal void of hyperspace alone, offering a catharsis of sorts. He wonders if it would be his last and reaches up to store their route in the cruiser’s computers. Easing down into the atmosphere, Roman guides the ship low over the jungle canopy and approaches the Yashaka mountains. The range runs across the center of the planet surrounded by dense jungles that tapper off into scattered forests closer to the poles. The bunker lies in a particularly scenic valley of the Yashaka in the southern hemisphere which grows closer on the scope.
The door hisses open and Taarek joins him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“You got us through, man. We are grateful. Thank you.”
“It is muscle memory by now,” he says, staring firmly through the viewport. “We should arrive within minutes if you would like to alert the others. I am certain they are anxious to stretch their legs.”
Taarek nods but pauses at the door, “You never explained the bunker's defenses. What kind of security are we talking about?”
“Motion detection, laser cannons, nothing we cannot handle.”
“Can you disable it?”
“If the Jedi gets me close enough.”
“What about the sensors? Will they alert your father?”
Roman attempts a grim smile at the thought, “The native duuvhals set it off from time to time which is what he will think when it is tripped. Anything that is taken out or scared off by the weapons reset the system without further activity from the sensors. However, in order to access the bunker, we will be within range for much too long. Once we trip it, I will have roughly two minutes to reach the control panel and reset it.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Then we are, how do you humans say, fucked?”
Taarek smirks, “Copy that.”
Roman pulls the cruiser around and sets it down in a meadow of deep yellow short-grass beside a lake still as glass. They are two kilometers out from the bunker but better a safe distance than sorry. They will need to strategize. The crew gathers in the entrance forum, having salvaged what they could in terms of gear. The wardrobe provided by the Lurian’s gave them little in the way of options but they make due. There are a few jumpsuits that work. Roman joins them, retrieving his mask and suit to conceal all visible markers of his Chiss identity. He would be playing the role of Avinarius, the mysterious drifter turned spice runner created in the aftermath of Preston’s death.
Gemma pulls her long curls into a high pony, looking understated and vaguely militant in black but definitely still a Masterton. She unknowingly misspoke when she said no one knew them out here. The Chiss may be isolated but they know those four names. It seems everyone does. You do not threaten most of the known galaxy with impending doom and not gain some street cred. There would be value in her capture and it would be best for everyone if she is not identified.
Lysette meditates peacefully in the center of the room, intending to remain behind. She raises her head as he passes.
“The mountain contains more than weapons, navigator. I hope you realize that.”
Roman swallows and slips the mask over his head.
Taarek hits the ramp controls as they are instantly met with a blast of humidity. Roman is warm but not uncomfortable, a fortunate perk of being raised in the temperate Corporate Sector. The others look pleased and step out into the grassy plains. There is no describing the view as the gravity and beauty of untouched nature humbles them into silence. Roman calls out, breaking the spell, and gathers them to outline the obstacles ahead. He explains defenses and timetable – it would be tight but with the Jedi’s prowess, he is confident they will succeed. As someone who can both fight and fly, Sirona volunteers to stay behind with Lysette. The others set off toward the mountains with Roman taking the lead but he is unable to get the Miralukan’s words out of his head.
The group naturally fans out to take full advantage of the gorgeous open space. For the first time in a long time, they actually feel free. There is no galactic threat from them simply being who they are. Demaris trails Gemma and uses the opportunity to explore something that has been bugging her since they retrieved them from Hesperidium.
“So, Riley’s father. That must have been weird. What’s he like?”
“Dead,” Gemma says softly. “It was horrifying and sad. I did what I could.”
“And what did you do exactly?”
“Set them free. Why?”
“Just curious. How?”
Gemma slows to match Demaris’ pace, “Through an incantation that dissolved their incorporeal bond to the tower. I could not let them suffer there any longer but from your borderline accusatory tone I take it you do not agree.”
“I’m not arguing the merits,” she says, trying to pull back on sounding judgmental. “It’s the methods that worry me. May I ask where you found the incantation?”
“If you must know it was carved beneath the ruins of an estate on Naboo Nevylinn and I explored years ago.”
It is intentionally vague but Demaris is not fooled.
“Master Nevylinn. Who’s estate?”
“The Winton’s.”
There it is, the something that has felt off about the whole thing.
“You used an incantation you found beneath the ruins of a notorious and powerful family tied to the Sith?”
“It sounds much more ominous when you say it like that. This was a good thing, Demaris. Those poor souls were in anguish and I could not leave them like that.”
Her stick-straight purple hair is caught in the breeze, blowing strands across an increasingly concerned expression.
“Look, Gemma. I have sensed something in you for a while now. Confliction and doubt have never been far from your heart. I know the Inquisitor tried to mess with you and you clearly have strong feelings about what it means to be a Jedi but this seems…reckless. That’s not normally like you.”
“You say reckless, I say inventive. We are just trying to survive. I appreciate the sentiment but not everything has to mean something.”
“Says the one alarmingly close to a prophecy who brought us the loop theory.”
“It was speculation,” she counters. “One that proved incorrect with Dahlia’s death.”
Demaris treads carefully, “Yes, she died. So did two of your friends and many others. That’s a lot, Gem. For anyone. I’m not sure you’ve taken the time to really confront that.”
“I know where you are going with this and it is not a repressed reaction from the death of my parents.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that this is a dangerous time for us. For all the Jedi. I don’t want to see you fall.”
Gemma stops so suddenly that Demaris crashes into her. She takes a few steps back but does not need the Force to know she’s crossed a line. It’s not like she was even that diplomatic about it. Gemma had expressed on more than one occasion her displeasure with how the Jedi operate, questioning their motives and disrespecting their Master’s on multiple fronts. The ill-conceived intergalactic pop star persona was just one in a long string of spites seemingly meant to troll the Jedi. What Demaris can’t understand is why she is doing this. She has to know a potentially Sith-related incantation was, at the very least, risky. At most, it could have caused a fracture within her already damaged psyche. Alia was too far gone but Gemma is not and she does not want to lose a friend.
“What if there is no falling? What if falling is something the Jedi made up to keep others from seeing the whole picture?”
“Is that what you want? To see the whole picture?”
“As a matter of fact – yes. This is not about light or dark, it is about balance. Both sides have played roles in the galaxy and the Jedi’s fanatical devotion to the light has not done us any favors.”
“You are seriously advocating for embracing the darkness?”
“At the very least acknowledging its existence and importance in our journey. You cannot have one without the other. In case you have not noticed, Demaris, we are on our own out here. We have been for a while. No one is coming to save us. Not Nevylinn, not the Republic, no one. These weapons will give us a fighting chance.”
“These weapons are for defense,” she cautions.
“I never said otherwise.”
Ahead of the group, Roman pauses, raising an arm to bring everyone to a halt. They have reached the base of the mountain. He withdraws his blaster. Taarek and Riley do the same. Oz, Shendo, Demaris, and Gemma ignite their sabers, listening to the collective hum as it crackles across the silence of a visually perfect scene. Oz and Gemma move into position next to Roman, ready to accompany him on the sprint to the control panel. Demaris, Shendo, Riley, and Taarek would provide coverage and monitor for any unforeseen challenges along the uneven terrain. Tension ripples through him but Roman pushes it away and sprints forward.
The mountain erupts in blaster fire.
-TBC
-
“Talk to me
There's nothing that can't be fixed with some honesty
And how it got this dark is just beyond to me
If anyone can hear me switch the lights"
-Troye Sivan
Yashuvhu
Surface
The spray of blaster fire is intense with timing that indicates it was set to quickly vaporize anything that came within the proximity sensors. It takes the full concerted efforts of the Jedi to repel it, fanning out to draw the blasts away from Roman and company traversing the rocky slope toward the panel. Without sabers, Taarek and Riley are pinned down.
This is taking too long, Roman thinks and, as if hearing those thoughts echo, Oz grabs his arm and Force leaps the remainder of the way. They land solidly and Roman scrambles toward the panel as Oz deflects another blast. He works diligently, acutely aware of the timer counting down that would send a signal to his father. A part of him is tempted to do it, to lure his father there only to rise from the dead and take his revenge. Then he remembers this is not about him. Not entirely anyway. He could not do that to Gemma, to the Jedi. They had rescued him and so he carefully sorts through the wires and circuits before him. Shendo deflects a round of blaster fire that crashes into the rocks beside Oz with a concussive force large enough to send him tumbling down the incline. Roman is exposed but he does not turn away.
Gemma slides in with her saber spinning to counter two blasts that would have ended him.
The waves of fire grow even more intense.
“Ro, hurry!”
He finds what he is looking for and resets the system. The unseen blasters cease firing and quiet returns to the base of the Yashaka mountains. The system is active but his tinkering bypassed the sensors so that it would not register movement. With a final splice, Roman activates the door controls. A large, rectangular slab of the mountain caves inward before sliding open. He stands and turns to face them as everyone converges around the opening.
“Like I said.”
Taarek smirks, “Nothing we can’t handle.”
“Only three seconds to spare,” Riley says, tapping his chronometer. “But who’s counting?”
Demaris smiles, “Nice work everyone. Shendo, remember to be mindful of your surroundings. You could have controlled the direction of the blast, turning it to our advantage. Are you okay, Oz?”
“Yeah. It was stupid. I should have seen it coming.”
“We want to work with the setting, no matter where that may be, integrating it into our strategy. Everything around us can be an ally if we know how to use it.
They nod. Gemma feels the pang of guilt over their collective bond, one she clearly does not share. They look to Taarek and Demaris as leaders. Part of a team. Gemma and Riley are just interlopers to them – the fated pop star and boy billionaire. The sting fades when she realizes this is not really surprising. None of the Force-sensitive within The Four, past or present, followed a traditional path. Dark or light, they made their own way. She feels destined to do the same.
Roman leads the way inside, activating perimeter lights that reveal a vault containing an impressive array of weapons and vast amounts of various currency. They could arm and fund their own legion if they so choose. It seems Balthazar Nash had amassed an inventory to guarantee favorable outcomes in many situations. While the others spread out to look around, Roman moves purposefully through the crates and into an adjoining alcove. He taps something into a small keypad that unlocks another chamber. There is only one item that is carefully displayed on a rectangular pillar. Shendo follows him in with the others trailing behind.
“What is that?”
Roman runs a hand across the smooth, obsidian surface, “An axial superlaser.”
“That’s…a planet-killing class of weapon,” Demaris says slowly, the intended sternness in her voice giving way to quiet horror.
“Ch’at basca ch’un’bi,” Roman says coldly, his Cheunh crisp and effective. “Destroyer of worlds. It was a special project my father had Palace Arms construct in secret. He could never have any one side gain too large an advantage. Bad for business. Wonder if he will see the – what do humans call it, irony? – in it all.”
The attempt at morbid humor is not as convincing as he'd like it to be. Gemma moves further into the chamber and stands directly across the weapon from Roman. She has known him a very long time and the confident yet oft-conflicted Chiss is not a fan of subtly. So, there is no point in asking.
“This is what you really came for.”
“Yes.”
“You would kill more than just your father with that.”
“I know.”
He does not remove his hand from the laser casing, brilliant red eyes glassing over as his face tightens. Roman is so consumed with grief and rage that the weapon’s power provides the perfect symbol. Destruction to fill the emptiness inside him that he has carried since he watched his lover explode in front of the Gellar Estate. He was merely means to his family's end, eliminated so carelessly as if swatting away vermin. Preston was anything but. He was precious, beloved, and they snuffed out his spark to maintain the status quo. Even though Alia had no intention of marrying him, his father needed that legacy to endure. He would have done anything to preserve their power. Now Roman would go to the same lengths to make him pay.
“That would be genocide, Roman. Charging at Csilla, even with this massive artillery, would be suicide. I know you loved him. I know you miss him but you are not the only one who lost him. Dane, Alka, me – we loved him too and sacrificing yourself to avenge him would hurt so many others. That is not what Preston would have wanted.”
Logically, she is right. He knows that. The feelings he had been conditioned to bury by the Chiss, the ones Preston had found and nurtured, threaten to swallow him whole. He chokes on the loss and sinks slowly to the ground. Nothing he does will bring him back, even the spectacular destruction of his species. Gemma rounds the pillar, kneeling beside him. Her hand finds him and, screaming behind his mask, Roman releases everything that had driven him to the brink of madness. The Jedi surround him, instilling their healing peace, calm, and support. They may have the worlds against them but they could be there for each other.
Riley hangs back, eyeing the weapon carefully. Veritaas once confided in him that the situation could be dire if Senator Soldys was not able to stabilize the situation on Chandaar. Terrifying as it may be, the potential applications for Corellian defense against the growing Republic threat are not lost on him. The laser gives Corellia and Soldys leveraging power.
He doubts they will see it the same way but decides they are not leaving this place without it.
-TBC
-
“You’ll never understand it if you don’t try
‘Cause you’re so far away from what you might find.”
-Sad Money, Kaskade, & Sabrina Claudio
Yashuvhu
Surface
Sunlight pulls back from the base of the mountain. Dusk is fast approaching. Once the defense system was disarmed, they contacted Sirona and she piloted the Capulet closer to their location. They spent the remainder of the day ferrying crates of weapons and currency, leaving only the super laser to create further tension in the widening ideological conflict between Gemma and Demaris.
Taarek stands at the mouth of the cave with a masked Roman, “Well?”
“I say we destroy it,” Demaris says. “No one should have that kind of power.”
Riley shakes his head, “I disagree. The weapons we have will be no match for the Republic fleets.”
“Corellia has a formidable fleet of its own, certainly enough to stand its ground if the Republic goes too far.”
“If?” Gemma laughs incredulously. “Demaris, they have all but declared war on any Force-sensitive being. They would imprison or kill anyone of us they captured. Think of how many have perished. The Republic has already gone too far.”
“Implying what? That you condone avenging those lost by striking down an equal number of Republic citizens with that laser? You just talked Roman down from the consequences of similar actions against the Chiss. This hypocrisy is madness. The Jedi will not take such an offensive stance.”
“Perhaps that is why they always lose,” Gemma says curtly. “I was taught the same history so do not lecture me on a principle that has defined the order’s demise. There is one lesson that the Jedi never seem to learn; you cannot have the high ground without anything to stand on. For centuries others have chipped away at their beliefs and now they are grasping at straws. The Republic will wipe out anyone with a connection to the Force if given the chance. We need to be prepared.”
“You sound as if you want to go to war.”
“And you speak like it is not inevitably at this point. Best we be prepared, unlike the Jedi on Chandaar. Corellia has been playing a dangerous game with the Republic and it is only a matter of time before Circe, your brother, or one of the other Jedi are discovered. These weapons are for defense, remember? I say we defend ourselves.”
Demaris glances at Taarek, “Do you agree?”
“I respect what the Jedi represents and the good they have done for the galaxy. However, Gemma is not wrong. My father fought for the Jedi Masterton but they underestimated the forces against them and it cost them their lives. So, yes, I agree the weapon will provide considerably more leverage in the threat against you if it comes to that.”
“Roman?”
“If it gives you a measure of safety then you may have it but we are not leaving it. Either it comes with us or you destroy it. There is no way I would leave this behind for my father to use.”
“Fair point,” Riley says. “Demaris, this is a strategic defense not a personal attack on your beliefs.”
“It is beginning to feel that way. I respect the democracy of our team and so I acquiesce but dissent. I only hope this does not lead us to the same fate as the original Four.”
Demaris strides from the cave, leaving behind an air of awkward silence. No one really blames her…no one but Gemma. She possesses the same idealism that got Melanie killed, believing in principles that no longer apply to the reality of their environment. The Jedi have always been slow to adapt which is why the Sith and others have been able to thwart them at crucial moments in galactic history. Their detachment does not serve them the way they think it does.
Riley nods to Taarek and Roman, “Let's load it up."
With lifting help from the collective Jedi powers, they leave the mountain behind them, an empty stash that Baltazar Nash could never again be able to use in his nefarious plots. Roman sits with Lysette and allows the vindication to wash over him. She can feel his anger simmer and works to draw these negative emotions from him completely, giving him some measure of peace. He was letting it all go but he could not stop seeing Preston’s face in his mind. Revenge had driven him to the brink and he is grateful others were there to pull him back.
Taarek meets them in the entrance forum of the cruiser. They could not stay here without further risking detection but they would not know if it was safe to return to Corellia until they made contact. Everyone turns to Roman, the resident navigator of the Unknown Regions.
“I know a place.”
TBC
-
*Well be still my barely beating black little heart - welcome back, Med! I was hoping you'd pick up that segue. ;)
“Press play
I’ve got the energy saved.”
-Jessica Winter
Rakata Prime
The Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet flares out of hyperspace into an orbital mess.
Alarms blare through the cockpit almost immediately. The cruiser shudders as it wades through what appears to be remnants of a fierce battle, sections of starships, and debris clouding the space above the glittering tropical world. Taarek raises the deflector shields as Demaris and Gemma fall into seats, fumbling to strap themselves in. Roman is a nimble pilot and evades the larger spiraling chunks of wreckage as he eases them toward the surface.
“What the hell happened here?”
Roman keeps his focus on navigating, “A brutal civil war that ended with the destruction of their orbital shipyard and decimation of their species. Few, if any, remain but the Rakatan’s are known to be vicious savages with a connection to the Force. Although it was once a beautiful world, it is now ravaged and dangerous.”
“Wonderful,” Demaris says wearily. “Why bring us here?”
“You need to establish contact but the bramble makes this impossible. Rakata is one of the only planets where communication between the Unknown Regions and the main galactic disc is possible. It is also the easiest way back in and most direct route to Corellia if that is where we are headed next.”
"A little trust for our friend here. He has not steered us wrong yet."
“It could have been worse. When the station was operational, the planet was protected by a disruptor field that disabled communications and navigation systems. Most who stumbled onto this place never left.”
“That is…horrifying. How do you know about it? It does not seem like the kind of place that would interest the Chiss.”
“Correct,” Roman says. “It is far too warm but it is the accessibility, even unlikely or accidental, that makes Rakata an undesirable target for the Ascendancy. Also, the Rakatan’s made formidable enemies with their technology and taste for blood. It was, how do you humans say, a “thing?”
Gemma stifles a laugh. Taarek grins. Demaris is less amused.
“A thing? A civil war that led to this kind of destruction is more than just a thing. I hope you know what you are doing.”
“About as much as any of you do,” Roman counters flatly.
Once they are clear of the suspended horrors of battle, Taarek assesses the ship’s status.
“Looks good overall but minor damage to the navigational sensor dish from our entry point. Unfortunately, I did not get the shields up quick enough.”
Gemma shakes her head, “Nonsense, you did well. You too, Ro. We would not have made it this far without you.”
Roman takes them in, trailing across waters littered with fighters and cruisers. Even bits of the station remains lodged in the shallower waters. He sets them down on a suitable-looking island with enough space and coverage to keep their presence as inconspicuous as possible.
“We should be able to salvage what we need from one of the downed ships.”
Taarek nods, “Let’s scout the area and identify the best options before we assemble a recovery team.”
They head back to find Riley sitting at the multi-comm station. He glances up as they approach, mouth tight, and pulled to the left.
“Any luck?”
“I can get through but Director Veritaas is not responding.”
Demaris offers an encouraging smile, “Keep trying. I am sure you will make contact soon.”
The sentiment is sincere but comes off forced, underscoring the tensions among them. The axial superlaser is awkwardly stashed in the droid hold and makes for a heavy reminder even out of sight. The crew gathers in the entrance forum, armed with lightsabers and an assortment of pillaged weapons from their heist. After conferring with Demaris, Taarek explains the situation and breaks out their objectives; repairing the ship, establishing communication with Corellia, and using this time to reflect and train. He urges everyone to keep their guard up. Despite the beachy vibes, this was not a friendly place.
“Be careful,” Lysette says softly from the doorway to the lounge. “There is a darkness here.”
Demaris and Gemma make eye contact before Oz leads the charge down the ramp with Sirona and Shendo following closely behind. The humidity hits them like a heavy blanket. There are the remains of three crashed fighters, staggered along the shore of the half-moon bay with parts that litter the white sands. They appear to have been a part of the landscape for some time. In the distance, a much larger island is visible with a structure on the top of a hill that blurs into heat waves beneath the sun. The group gathers near the water, taking in their surroundings. There is a strange beauty to Rakata, like new flesh forming over old scars. Surely nature has reclaimed and healed the wounds inflicted upon it in the time that has passed.
That is when they hear it, a rumble in the jungle behind them. Everyone turns and the group fans out with hands on their weapons. The distant canopy begins to sway followed by a muffled grunt. A few excruciating moments drag by before the most horrific roar any of them have ever heard reverberates through the jungle and slices through the moist, tropical air.
-TBC
-
“The choices you're gonna make
Are you sure this is what you want?
I pull up from the hands that you've gotta shake
Remember faces that make or break.”
-KREAM & ImanoS
Rakata Prime
Surface
Riley Patten fiddles with the com controls, frustrated at his inability to reach Director Veritaas on Corellia. Roman swore communications could make it through the bramble from here. It would be a wasted trip if that were not the case. The axial superlaser could be a game-changer for them in their fight against the Republic’s growing tyranny. He hopes arming them quickly would send a strong message, one that may bolster support for Senator Soldys in the Senate.
No one was going to push Corellia around.
His thoughts turn to Gemma. They had celebrated her birthday privately on their journey into the Unknown Regions as she did not want to make a big deal about it. The others were already wary of her as it was. Although she was disheartened at not being able to spend it with Dane, Riley made sure she knew how special it was. The guardianship may be nullified but it no longer mattered. Dahlia is dead and, as far as the rest of the galaxy knows, Gemma is too. It is a strange place to be. She and Roman have bonded over their similar circumstances – alive but thought dead – and Riley is grateful for the support. At least Dane knows the truth about her survival and is not suffering needlessly.
Drawing in a breath, he takes another route and tries to connect to the People’s Council. Thankfully, he manages to get connected to Circe.
“Octavia,” he says, using her assumed identity. “It’s Riley.”
“Oh, Riley! It is so good to hear your voice. Are you okay? Please tell me you are somewhere safe.”
“I am but I have been unable to reach the Director. Have you seen him?”
There is a shift in her voice that sends a shiver down his spine.
“I am afraid there has been an attack and the Director was injured. He is recovering but it was close.”
“An attack? What happened?”
“I do not know the details as Della said they are still investigating. Unfortunately, doctor Cross is missing and presumed dead.”
“Doctor Cross? I…was not aware she was back.”
“A sudden reappearance it seems.”
“Is there a correlation?”
“Perhaps," she laughs. "You are always thinking like a CorSec agent. Veritaas would be proud.”
“I learned from the best. Can you get word to Agent Theon? I will be heading back soon.”
“Of course, I will let him know. The Director too, once he wakes. I am sure he will be thrilled with the news. He has been so worried about you. We all have.”
“I am alright, just needed some time.”
“Of course,” she says, reverting back to a more soothing tone. “There is no one way to grieve. I am so sorry about Gemma, Riley. We are here for you when you return.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you, Octavia.”
He taps off and sighs. Corellia is a part of him he feels like he abandoned. After the battle at Patten Ranch and aunt Mara’s extended absence, everything about it began to stifle him. Donovan’s training and meditation could only do a boy good for so long. He had to get out. Gemma’s invitation to prom was all the reason he needed but what started as a quick trip away has evolved into a dangerous adventure.
“Riley. Raise the shields.”
Getting more dangerous by the microsecond, apparently. He hears her in his head, Lysette’s voice in a steady command.
“The shields, Riley. Raise them now.”
He darts from the com station and into the cockpit, bringing up the systems necessary to activate the shields. He arms their weapons for good measure.
“Done. What’s wrong?”
“We are not alone here.”
Riley moves forward and peers through the viewport the moment what appears to be a rancor emerges from the jungle. The reptomammals roar is nothing short of terrifying. His eyes drift to the group on the beach, the Jedi with sabers out and the others blasting away. The rancor’s skin, from what he has read, is tough enough to withstand small arms fire so their weapons cache would do little in the way of defense. The Jedi dart off in different directions as Taarek and Roman fall back toward the ship. The rancor is confused by the moving targets but is no less of a formidable threat. The Jedi could do enough damage to stop it but that would require range close enough to be injured or killed. He slips into a seat and brings up weapons systems, swiveling the turbolaser cannons around to target the rancor. With a finger around the controls and target locked, Riley fires.
The blasts, much more powerful than handheld lasers, impact the rancor’s abdomen, torso, and legs to bring the creature tumbling down into the sand. He rises to watch the Jedi make quick work of it and the rancor is defeated. Sighing, he brings the shields down and heads to the entrance forum where Lysette is meditating. The smile beneath her crimson hood is almost playful, contrasting her usually ominous demeanor.
“Nice shooting, Corellian.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
Riley makes his way down the ramp and onto the beach. The team is regrouping and he jogs up to meet Gemma. Everyone cheers when they see him, grateful for the turbolaser assist. He beams, feeling almost normal for a moment, a part of something when he remembers Circe’s words. His face falls but Demaris is quick to spot it.
“What’s wrong? Did you make contact?”
“I did,” Riley says. “Let’s set up camp and I’ll tell you all about it.”
-TBC
-
“When the water seems too deep
The shadows always wait beneath
Laughing loud, we brave the role of black sheep.”
-Sneaker Pimps
Rakata Prime
Surface
After they build a fire on the beach and dispose of the rancor’s corpse using their combined Force powers, the group huddles around for storytime. Riley gives them the limited scoop on the attack against Director Veritaas and Doctor Cross’s return and apparent second disappearance. He does not have the details they want but it is enough to speculate given what they know. The other Jedi have heard bits and pieces but they weave the events together in a more cohesive narrative.
Gemma tells them about the shape-shifting monsters from her dreams that wound up embedded in their home in the Corporate Sector posing as Dahlia’s security, the battle of Patten Ranch on Corellia, and her outing as a Jedi at the concert on Chandaar. Demaris confirms the threat as they tried to kill her on Hesperidium which is how she wound up with the Jedi in the first place. Riley finishes the tale with knowledge of the Infiltrators, hybrid-droid-human replicas that were used to impersonate the Jedi and further damage their reputation within the Republic. The Director had captured one but in the ensuing chaos, Cross was taken from the medical labs at CorSec Academy. He tells them they searched for her but no trace was ever found. Everyone thought she was dead and her return and the attack seem too coordinated not to be related.
“She could be one of them,” Shendo offers. “One of those monsters or a replica.”
“They would have expected that and made sure it was her.”
Sirona frowns, “Then why was she returned? I am assuming she did not escape after all this time. She must have been sent back with some sort of purpose.”
“Taking out the Director would be strategic,” Oz says.
Demaris nods, “It does eliminate a barrier of protection for the Jedi on Corellia. The Senator only has so much to work with in the Senate. Veritaas has kept CorSec out of the F.U.R.A. fight. For now, at least.”
“He’s fine,” Riley says. “At least, he will be. Corellia will always remain true to its people, regardless of whether or not they are Force-sensitive.”
“Until the Republic says otherwise. They are, after all, a part of it and bound by the terms of membership.”
Taarek leans back in the sand, “Very true and as we have seen on Chandaar, this has spiraled way out of control. Who did this information come from?”
“A trusted source on the People’s Council, someone close to the Director.”
“So, what do we do?” Roman asks pointedly.
“You mean,” Lysette whispers across the crackling fire. “Do we hold or venture into the belly of the beast?”
“We stick to the plan. My contact is arranging for our return. We can enter on the fringes of the system and deliver our cargo which sounds like it will be just in time. If someone is looking to undermine Corellia’s position, they will need supplies. The Republic has closely monitored our every move and an uptick in weapons production is sure to spark suspicion.”
“Rightfully so,” Demaris counters. “You are arming Corellia against the government they belong to.”
The flames flicker across Taarek’s face, “That is not a fair assessment. It is a broken government on the brink of becoming a dictatorship at the hands of Speaker Leeds.”
“They want the Jedi exiled, captured, or dead. If Corellia has a chance at stopping their tyranny, I say we back them.”
“It could cause a greater conflict than I think you realize. Do you really want the galaxy engulfed in war?”
“I want a galaxy where we can be free to live as we so choose,” Gemma quips. “It has become clear the Republic no longer functions on the principles it was founded on with anyone who has a connection to the Force caught in the middle. If we do not fight for them no one else will.”
An uncomfortable silence falls over the group. Everyone is anxious and tired. It had been a long journey with contrasting philosophies surrounding what the Jedi is and is not exposing differences in their beliefs and perspectives. Demaris wants to keep them unified and focused on the teachings of the master’s who abandoned them. Gemma knows her heart is in the right place but there is a blindness to the reality of their situation. Peaceful meditation and practice will only do them so much good, especially if they are continually hunted. So long as they rested on their self-righteous laurels, they would never be safe.
As they slumber on the sand, a voice calls out.
“Gemma.”
She rouses and feels a presence nearby, reaching out to her. Gemma pulls on her robe and grabs her saber before heading into the darkness. Demaris opens her eyes and watches her disappear into the dense foliage. With her saber lighting the way, Gemma wades through the jungle. She sees a glow ahead and steps into a clearing where the spectral form of Melanie Masterton is waiting for her.
“Hello, sister.”
“Melanie. I honestly did not expect to see you again.”
“You are angry.”
“A lot has changed. People are dead. We are on the run. I am sorry if this is not the warm welcome you were expecting.”
“Nothing about this is what I expected but I come before you now because you are on a dangerous path.”
“You can save the speech,” Gemma says. “Demaris is all over it and frankly, I grow tired of hearing it. There is a lot of work to be done if we are to save the Republic from itself.”
Melanie’s milky features remain neutral as she apprises the more aggressive version of her half-sister.
“There is a darkness in you, I see that now. I suppose it was within me as well as it is in all of us. The potential for destruction. You have questions, no one can fault you for that, and I am certain you will have more once I have told you what I know.”
“If you have something to say, say it."
“Very well. Despite what happened to you on Hesperidium, Dahlia is not on the other side.”
“Not on the…wait...she lives?"
“Yes."
“How? How can that be?!”
“She is more talented than you think and she has a powerful ally in the Inquisitor.”
“They both survived. Wonderful.”
“With the help of the Etheralis.”
She tenses, recalling her vision where Riley's father, Mod Navris, called it by name.
“I have heard that before.”
“It lies at the heart of Coruscant and its dark power combined with the energy of The Four brought life where none existed.”
The concept is familiar to her as well, a reference to the prophecy which she believed was an entity but could represent anything granted life yet does not live.
“The Etheralis is tied to the Inquisitor, a source of power that is also a weakness which can be exploited.”
“It was already destroyed once. You want me to destroy Coruscant again?”
“Only as a last resort. Stripping the Inquisitor of the fragment of the Etheralis, however, would allow you to eliminate the greatest threat to the Jedi.”
“The Jedi,” Gemma sighs. “What a joke. Our supposed master’s gone, the order either dead or scattered to the most remote corners of the galaxy. There is nothing left.”
“It can be rebuilt if you are willing.”
“The galaxy believes me dead and I join a list of others including Dahlia and Roman."
Gemma inhales sharply, mind spiraling back to their conversations on the resort moon and aboard the Capulet.
“If they are both still alive then…”
“Five did die,” Melanie says solemnly. “And The Four survived.”
“The loop. We were right.”
“You are not the first and will not be the last. Not on your current path."
Gemma frowns, “What do you mean?”
“The prophecy, at least how we interpreted it, was designed to end with a Winton on the throne. We believed that stopping it would prevent the prophecy from ever coming to pass. We thought that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, that does not appear to be the case as you have discovered. We were neither the beginning nor the end. Stopping it, as I did, only created a new cycle, one that you, Dane, Riley, and Dahlia are now playing out.”
There is a slow, sickening realization that washes over Gemma.
“In order to end the prophecy, it must be fulfilled, and to fulfill it means we must die.”
Melanie lowers her gaze, “You must choose; defer or lose. There is no winning.”
“No. It is written that only one can survive but I wonder if that theory has ever been tested. Perhaps it was meant to force us into some kind of fabricated death-match. You fell for it when you killed Karen but Riley and Dahlia had already been born and our mother sent to the Corporate Sector where Dane and I soon followed. If there is no one left to restart the cycle, the prophecy would end with us.”
“What are you saying?”
"A third option," Gemma says, defiant. “To end the prophecy forever, no one can survive.”
-TBC
-
“When we walk the line
Do you change your mind?
I can see the sky is fallin.
When we’re out of touch
Do you close your eyes?
When you feel the night is callin.
Cuz we keep on goin backwards, backwards.”
-Eli & Fur
Rakata Prime
Surface
After a morning of meditation and practice, the crew decides to let loose and enjoy their tropical setting. The cove is a perfect place for a little splashing around. Gemma’s blonde curls bounce wildly as Riley chases her through the warm, crystal water. She dives beneath the surface, coming up in his arms. He kisses her deeply as they tread slowly above in the water. Sirona and Lysette find themselves in a water fight with Oz while Taarek leads Demaris into deeper waters. Shendo stands on the shore, apprehensively staring out over the water. Roman approaches him in full costume.
“You are not joining the others?”
“I find it all…rather pointless. To the cause, that is. We have work to do.”
Roman nods, “I understand but there is something to be said about taking a moment.”
“I do not see you frolicking around with them.”
“I do not wish to be seen outside the mask. Everyone believes me dead.”
Shendo smirks, motioning with his head out to where Gemma is floating with Riley.
“Everyone believes her dead as well. That does not seem to stop her. It is as if she no longer cares.”
“Humanoids sometimes need to do things just to do them. I struggled with it as well when I first came to the Corporate Sector. If it was not for Dane and Gemma, I do not think I would have survived there. Remember, I knew them long before they found out who they really were. So, it is not that she does not care, it is just that the weight of their legacy has…augmented her perspective. Her sister was a heroic Jedi Knight who helped avert an Imperial assault that would have destroyed the then-fledgling Republic. There were high expectations of all of us as CSA heirs but that kind of pressure is something else entirely. Billions of people they will never know pass judgment and project their opinions on them. I cannot even imagine.”
“Demaris seems to be handling it just fine.”
“They are not the same,” Roman says. “Demaris does not have that legacy to live up to. She wants to do what is right for the whole and believes preserving the Jedi Order will accomplish that. They were the defenders of the downtrodden once upon a time. Gemma sees flaws in their logic that has seen them doomed to repeat public scorn and mass purges. I can appreciate that reflection given what we know."
“Even if that path leads her right into the same darkness her predecessor fought to vanquish?”
“Much like you or any other being sensitive to the Force, that is choice only she can make.”
As the day wears on, Taarek gathers a small scout team to visit some of the wreckages for parts. Their navigational sensor dish needs some work before they will be able to safely venture back through the Tangle. He selects Sirona, Riley, and Oz to assist and they head out over the water in the skiff. Back at the Capulet, Gemma dusts sand off her leg then runs a hand over the hull as she passes beneath the ship. Demaris stands on an outcropping of rocks, watching the skiff recede into the distance.
“Do not worry,” Gemma says as she approaches. “They know what they are doing.”
“I am more worried about what happens when we leave this place.”
She navigates the flat rocks, leaping effortlessly between them, and lands next to her.
“What do you mean?”
Demaris’ straight purple hair is caught in the steady ocean breeze, “I shudder to think of what may await us if we return to Corellia. They have already risked so much for us. The CorSec Director has been mysteriously attacked and we are set to arrive with a dangerous superweapon that may escalate a growing conflict with the Republic and cost lives.”
“When it comes to galactic affairs, there is no such thing as a bloodless fight.”
“But if you could avoid it, why would you not?”
Gemma steps past her, shielding her eyes from the sun.
“Some conflicts cannot be avoided.”
“You believe this is one of them?”
“The Republic will never stop unless they are stopped. Whatever hopes of a diplomatic solution went out the window with the most recent enforcement push of the F.U.R.A. on all Republic worlds. They will not be satiated until we are all rounded up, monitored and tagged, or killed. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not! Stop making me sound like some kind of bright-eyed idealist. I know the path forward will be difficult but I do not believe it has to end with an epic clash between Corellia and the Republic. Too many lives have been lost there already or have you forgotten what happened to the original Four?”
She flips her hair, “How can I forget when I am constantly reminded by literally every single person I know?”
“That is not what I-“
“I know what you meant, Demaris. They all died there and you do not want a repeat performance but I have some bad news for you. It is either a sequel with a higher body count of this never ends, no matter how much you or anyone else wants it to.”
She flinches, “What?”
“Nothing, forget it. It does not matter in the end anyway.”
“I know the Jedi did not teach you such stark nihilism,” she quips evenly.
“The Jedi are over! Honestly, I do not know why you cling so desperately to their teachings when it has led to nothing but torment and pain. For Maker's sake, they let you believe your brother was dead. How can you still trust them after everything that has happened?"
Demaris stands firm, “Because I have hope and I will not stop believing in a better world even if you are too jaded to imagine one.”
“I believe in a better world too but hope is not enough to make it happen.”
“Is that so? Tell me then, where did you go last night? I saw you enter the jungle.”
“I went for a walk.”
“A walk? That is what you are going with? Gemma, we have been friends for far too long to play these kinds of games.”
“What game-“
“I saw you! You were talking to someone I could not see but I heard everything. Was it Melanie? Did she appear to you again? What did she tell you that would make you say those things? That Dahlia is alive?”
“You followed me?”
“I am worried about you!”
“Well, you do not have to be and yes, of course, she is alive. Her powers spared her at the cost of Ples, Trichelle, and a few thousand other lives."
“How is it possible for me not to worry when you think the only way through this is if no one survives? Is that what Melanie told you, what you truly believe, that our deaths will end the prophecy?”
“Not yours,” she screams. “Ours! Mine, Riley’s, Dane’s, and Dahlia’s.”
Demaris gasps, grabbing her hands protectively, “No, sweetie. No. You do not have to be the sacrifice to this madness in order to end it!”
“That is just it. We do! The prophecy may say only one can survive but if that one is not a Winton then it drags another generation into the cycle. Melanie and the others were not the first and we will not be the last even if we do manage to defeat Dahlia and the Empire again. If the line continues so does the prophecy! It is a sick game our lineage has been forced into playing and I feel like I am losing my mind knowing what I know but this is the only thing that will ensure any finality, the closure the galaxy needs to heal. The only real ending...is the end of us.”
She chokes on a sob, sinking down to her knees on the rock. The floodgates are open, everything she has been internalizing for years exposed. Demaris moves down with her, holding steadily onto her arms. It had been building for some time now. She thought all that context would give her an advantage only for it to be worse than fabulously fumbling through it blindly. Others may have manipulated circumstances in their favor but no one actually involved in the prophecy really rigged it. It was rigged long ago and the shadow of that fact, which has only grown darker the deeper they went, is a difficult thing to outrun. Demaris holds her close and whispers over the salty breeze.
“We will find another way.”
“There may be one,” Gemma says, wiping tears from her cheeks and staring up into her face. “And it lies in Dane’s genes.”
-TBC
-
“It's always he said, she said
That you said, I said, we said
Once you started, won't stop
Whether you like it or not.”
-Night Club
Rakata Prime
Surface
“Wait, wait, wait – you are going to have to run that by me again.”
The scouting party had returned with parts in tow. Thankfully, they were able to salvage what they needed across several wreckages littered in the shallow waters surrounding nearby islands. With Roman and Oz working on the ship and the rest of the Jedi sourcing their next meal, Demaris gathers Riley and Taarek to hear Gemma out. The breakdown had mended something between them. The rift was not healed but their exchange provided some much-needed context and perspective.
“What part are you struggling with?”
“For starters,” Taarek says. “The fact that this information comes to you by way of your dead sister. No offense. My father served the Jedi Melanie Masterton. He died for her so you can understand my reluctance to follow suit. How do you know it is even her?”
“She has been appearing to me since I was young, not often but always in times of great distress.”
“How though?”
Demaris touches his arm, “They are bound to one another through the Force. Some Jedi have communed with others for extended periods of time, whether that be a former Master or someone else tied to their past. It is not common but it is known and understood.”
“And you believe this, Riley?”
He nods, “I do. I have seen my mother as well.”
Confusion creases Taarek’s features, “I do not understand. I did not think you were connected to the Force.”
“I am not, well, not in the traditional way. I think Gemma can explain it better.”
She takes a breath, trying to find the right words that will resonate. Taarek may be the son of Seneca Cirque but he is here because protecting the marginalized against tyranny and oppression is part of his genetic makeup. Falling in with The Concealed and subsequently joining the separatist movement against the Republic was, in his mind, the right thing to do. Everything else has been part of an unexpected adventure, despite his belief in their mission. He has expressed skepticism at some of the more mystical elements of The Four’s saga and no one can blame him. It would sound crazy to anyone raised with greater boundaries between black and white.
Their world is almost entirely grey.
“The prophecy, at least the translation Melanie had, references our families as the Royal Four of the Force. Two with a connection, two that serve as something called Touchstones. Think of it like a lawful-chaotic chart. The lawful good, the light, is on one end and the chaotic evil, the dark, on the other. The touchstones are more of the companions in that regard as lawful evil and chaotic good. Winton has traditionally been associated with the dark and Masterton with light although those labels may be a bit looser than intended. Gellar was seen as the lawful evil, someone who does good things for selfish reasons. Conversely, Patten embodied the chaotic good, one who does bad things for altruistic reasons.”
“Okay, what does this have to do with you seeing ghosts?”
“I am getting there,” she says. “This connection between the four of us makes us more powerful together as we saw on Hesperidium. The touchstones act as some sort of a conduit for our powers which was something Melanie and the others did not seem to know. It also anchors us to our predecessors, allowing them to appear to us across the realms. Riley shared his encounters with Kimber and Dane alluded to the fact that he interacted with Valerie. We can deduce that Dahlia likely also saw Karen or Alexia or both. They are guides, coming to us when we need them.”
He nods, “And she came to you here with this ominous news?”
“Well, yes, she claims Dahlia survived the attack and is not on the other side with them. Her survival would confirm the loop theory which is why we must be strategic with our next moves.”
“I am failing to see the strategy in her advising that you sacrifice yourselves.”
Riley groans, silencing the alert tone on his bleeping com, “Something tells me it is not that simple.”
"It seldom is."
“Melanie presented a choice – forfeit by everyone just living their lives or lose by defeating Dahlia as Melanie lost by defeating Karen. Neither is acceptable if the past is any indication.”
“They died on Centerpoint. How can you be sure Melanie killed Karen before the station imploded?”
“Dahlia told me,” she admits softly. “She claims her captor, the Sith that turned her, showed her photage from Centerpoint. That is why I said the labels for lawful and chaotic were loosely applied as, from what she says she saw, Karen stood down and Melanie killed her anyway. It would not have mattered if the others survived once Winton was dead. The prophecy was reset for the next generation – us.”
“Reset? So, what the galaxy knows as the original Four were not so original after all?”
“It appears not although the last loop seems to have come the closest with all four of them being together. That is why I think there was no mention of the original Four seeing those before them as they had never been united in such a way.”
Riley makes a face, “My mother and your sister were only together on Coruscant because they were brought together. It was a deliberate action from what the Holodoc indicated.”
“As we were brought together when we were younger.”
“Someone wants this conclusion,” Taarek says, now recognizing the pattern. “But who?”
Demaris breathes in as the answer reveals itself, “The monsters. The Voss-Ra. They were embedded close to Dahlia, posing as one of her security detail and likely pre-date whatever manipulations her father imposed on the others. We may not know how far back this goes or how many cycles in we are but there is a common factor. If they can appear as anyone, they may have been there all along without anyone ever even knowing.”
Gemma crosses her arms, chilled despite the tropical climate.
“That makes an obscene amount of sense. It would have been easier to intervene with proximity, something I suspect prevented their success with previous cycles. They would have seen you as a threat which is why they tried to eliminate you on Hesperidium. It would also explain why they were so adamant about taking us down on Corellia. They were hoping to speed up the timeline, leaving fewer obstacles between Dahlia and fulfilling the prophecy.”
“While that is less than reassuring, you said Melanie presented a choice.”
“Forfeiting or losing only extends the prophecy across another generation. Any offspring we have will become players in the same game. Over and over again until the one that survives is the Winton.”
“I already regret asking this,” Riley mutters. “But what happens if the Winton survives?”
“I do not know but clearly the Voss-Ra believe it means something otherwise they would not be working so hard to achieve this outcome nor would Alexander Winton have gone to such lengths.”
“What does that mean for us now?”
“It means all four of us must die in order for the prophecy to end.”
Saying it out loud silences them all momentarily, making it suddenly very real. It settles uneasily among the group.
Demaris steps forward, trying to add some levity to the dark turn.
“Gemma, you mentioned another option.”
“A loophole within the loop?”
“Yes. It is a dreadful alternative but I see no other way through this.”
“We have gone this far. Tell us.”
“You heard the stories about the droid that seemingly lived. It was rumored to be a combination of Federation technology and something in the Gellar genetics but this was never verified after Corellia abolished the use of droids altogether. I suspect the same process was used to create those Infiltrators we encountered, the ones who were running around with Nevylinn’s face to frame the Jedi on Chandaar. The one who kidnapped us all those years ago. Melanie warned me of that as well – the enemy with the face of a friend. Your aunt, Riley. Mara. We trusted them because they looked like people we knew, easily able to step in and replace the original.”
“Could they have been the Voss-Ra?”
“They never changed back, even when engaged in battle. Whatever powers the Voss-Ra have are finite and cannot be sustained during an attack. It takes a considerable amount of energy to maintain that kind of glamour. We know this from our encounters with them on Corellia and D’ian. No, these were deliberately created beings.”
“I am not sure I like where this is going.”
“Are you suggesting we create replicas of ourselves in order to fool them into believing we died?”
“I do not think it works that way. Whatever the endgame is will not be achieved unless we are truly dead with no heirs to carry on any future loops.”
“Then what?”
She knows how it will sound but Gemma goes there anyway.
“If there was a way to recreate ourselves through this process using Dane’s genetic material and his company’s technology, we could defeat Dahlia only to awaken in new bodies free of the prophecy forever. The thing is, in order for it to work, we would actually have to die too.”
“That is bloody insane!”
“Orchestrating your own massacre is…extreme.”
“I said it was dreadful but we either die fulfilling the prophecy or die ending it."
“Riley, come on! You cannot think this is a good plan.”
He holds her face in his hands, “Gemma, I love you. I have always loved you. We have our whole lives ahead of us and I do not want to risk our future on a theory. I am surprised that you would.”
Tears slide down her cheeks, curling up and over his knuckles.
“Then tell me how you think this ends. I love you too, Riley but the threat of the prophecy will always hang over our happiness if the cycle continues. Is that what you want? To live in constant fear that any step we take forward may doom us or others?”
“Of course not which is why we will find another way.”
“How?”
“By going after these Voss-Ra directly. We need to return to Corellia, share this information with Master Atrii and the others, and figure out how to either draw them out or go on the offensive. If you think they really are the key to this thing then we need answers and those answers will lead us to a solution. Hopefully, one that does not involve such a large and personal sacrifice.”
She smiles as he pulls her into his arms.
“Oh good, we can forget about the creepy replicas then?”
“No,” Riley says. “There is something my mother told me once when she appeared to me at the Patten Ranch – always have a contingency. This is ours. I am not even sure Dane will be on board with this but having it in our back pocket in the event this road leads to disaster will give us an advantage they will not see coming.”
“I will broach the subject with him when we are on our way back.”
He pulls out his com to check the missed call, frowning.
“What is it?”
“Message from Corellia,” he says, stepping away. “Excuse me.”
Demaris runs a hand along Gemma’s back, “Do you feel better now that you have shared this burden?”
“Surprisingly, I do despite the grim options.”
“You are not alone in this.”
“Right,” Taarek says. “I may not completely understand it but I believe you want to spare others the same fate as your sister and my father. No one’s life should be lost as part of a secret, sinister agenda. If there is a way to stop this without the trail of bodies then I say we explore it.”
Riley returns, looking troubled.
“Everything okay?”
“It was Octavia with the People’s Council. Senator Soldys has been arrested on Chandaar on charges of conspiracy and treason against the Republic.”
The news ripples through them, crystallizing around the initial purpose of their journey into the Unknown Regions.
“A timely reminder that the prophecy is not the only threat we face.”
“If anything, it compounds the issue.”
“They must know,” he says. “About the Jedi. If the Republic pins this on the Senator they will use him to hold all of Corellia accountable to their detestable law.”
“And you think rushing back in there is going to make the situation better?”
“We need their help and resources with the Voss-Ra problem and we have reinforcements in our team and the superlaser. When the Republic comes, and they will come, we will be there to stop them.”
Riley glances out at the rest of the Jedi gathering on the beach. Every one of them has something at stake here. He and Gemma are caught in the prophecy’s sights, Roman seeks redemption for losing Preston, Taarek champions freedom, and Demaris and the Jedi fight for their right to exist.
“If the repairs are complete, we leave in the morning.”
-TBC
-
Coruscant Asteroid Field
With a shudder that threatened to rip the station in two, the Sphere pummeled out of hyperspace near the edge of the Coruscant Asteroid Field.
A Voss Ra appeared at Adubell's door.
"Mistress Adubell - the hyperdrive has been disabled from the journey. We will not be able to make another jump without extensive repair"
Fair enough - the Sphere carried too much mass, most machinery couldn't take it. The hyperdrive systems had done what they needed to do. They got the sphere to the Coruscant System.
"Activate the sublight engines, and begin moving to the final coordinates."
The Sphere began moving forward, slowly, carefully. As it did, asteroids began to strike it, hitting the surface, denting in various places the metal or the dirt surface-structure. Small craters appeared, but Adubell didn't care.
The lightning too was ignored. Attracted to the metal frame, jagged streak after streak struck the Sphere as it moved, occasionally triggering a malfunction of some system or another, and yet the station moved on.
It was a few hours later the next report came in, telling Adubell that the Sphere had reached it's location, the very heart of the asteroid field, where the planet Coruscant had once stood.
"Set the station on a standard planetary rotation"
The forward thrusters were deactivated, and instead, a new set of thrusters were ignited. Ever so slowly, the sphere began to turn, Adubell watching, monitoring the speed and trajectory. The computer was compensating for gravity from the sun and nearby moons, and various debris. Within a few hours, everyone on the station was feeling the centrifical forces, and artificial gravity was slowly being powered down.
Adubell stalked out of the executive chamber, making her way to the turbolift that led to the surface. She was alone at this moment, her minions had orders, and one was to not be disturbed. As the turbolift doors opened into the Sphere's surface, she could hear the hiss of the depressurization. If she had still been human, she would have died instantly. As it was, her hybrid body could only stand the exterior for so long before she would end up needing yet another replacement.
No matter. Her task would be finished in time.
Adubell's arms lifted, wide over her head, bending her neck downward, closing her eyes.
She thought to the battle, the fight with the young Masterton jedi, her sister, the traitor Infiltrator droid. Focused on the hate that she had for all three. Focused on the pleasure she felt as she killed the jedi, one by one. In the pit of her stomach, she could feel it growing, the power. It began to radiate from the ground - the sith-infused earth of Korriban, up her legs, into her torso, pooling around her. She lifted her head, eyes opened wide, black pools of darkness. Electricity crackled at her fingertips. The strength of the sith temple, buried below, channeling through her, as it had before. She was their vessel,their conduit. Her hatred, her anger, her passion allowed them to use her as they needed. Lightning extended from her fingers into the asteroid field that surrounded her.
Streaks of ioninc energy that seemed to move about at random catapulted toward her. She didn't flinch as the first streak of lightning diverted downward, connecting with the blue fizzles at her fingertips. joining with her. One. Then another. Then another. The lightning didn't disappear - it extended from her fingers, stronger, further, wider. She could feel their searing heat, their deadly power, attach to her. One streak then another. The very energy spreading over hear head. Until it was all there, all concentrated above her. Pulsing, wanting to escape, to destroy whatever it touched. The energy swirled above her, between her two open hands - then began to spread, like a wave, out in all directions, over the entire surface of the Sphere. The ion energy had been laced with the one who caused it - the Dark Queen, when Coruscant was destroyed, and now it danced and flirted with the sith power that it had connected to, it's color darkening from a bright blue to a midnight black, until the entire surface of the sphere was hidden behind a ball of dark energy.
Only then did Adubell's hands fall, her body collapsing to the earth beneath her. She managed to roll onto her back, looking up at the barely visible sphere that encompassed the station. The blackness in her eyes receded, and suddenly, she gasped, as she took a breath of air.
in her weakened state, she whispered.
"Welcome back ... Coruscant ..."
((I love when I can tie parts of stories together, taking past posts and giving them more meaning.))
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the force" - Darth Vader
"Power! Unlimited POWER!!!" - Shree Palpatine/Darth Sidious
Coruscant
Ecstacy. Adubell's skin shook, her heart pounded, her eyelids shuttered as she stiffled a moan. Her mind wandered, back to Alexander, briefly thinking of his touch, his lips. But this? This was so much more.
Companionship could not possibly make her feel like this.
It was power.
While the surface of Coruscant was growing into a vibrant world, its hidden secret still lay beneath the surface: The ancient sith temple, literally excavated from Korriban. Adubell had reinvented Coruscant, had let the sith powers use her to channel their power, forming a world, an atmosphere.
And what had Dahlia done? YES, she made Coruscant grow the way it was. But she hadn't done it alone. The Winton royal needed her three cousins/step-siblings/whatever. Only the four of them TOGETHER had the power to advance this world. Adubell needed none of that. She could channel the force enough on her own. But even she was limited. When she reformed the sphere of Coruscant, she had been channeling the existing power of the sith temple.
Today though, she wasn't just a conduit. She was the power. Standing in the center of the temple, the whole of Coruscant pressing down around her, she stared at the crystaline orb in her hands, feeling it's power coursing through her, into her. Sheer. Ecstacy.
Dahlia needed 'the four' to bring life to a world. But Dahlia could never do what Adubell could with the object in her hand. She could create life itself. She could transform the inorganic to organic.
She could even be reborn. True, Adubell had learned to appreciate the advantages of her droid-form, but the Force was stronger through real-flesh.
The orb glowed brightly at first, a shining white light, but as Adubell channeled her anger, her hatred, her passion through it, the glow changed, the orb's color changed to an obsidian. Adubell could feel it coursing through her, making her stronger, more powerful, making her into the true master of ...
And then she lost it, cursing her own lack of discipline. She had been so close to untapping its full power, but she had grown too arrogant, too quickly.
Alexander's fatal flaw, she reminded herself. Adubell would not make the same mistake. She was not invincible, not totally immortal. At least not yet.
But the day would come soon when she was. When no one - not her sister, not that pesky droid infiltrator, not even a Winton princess would be able to defeat her.
And then the galaxy would learn the truth about the prophesy ...
TBC
-
“I’ll shut my eyes and shut my heart
Paint it black, paint it dark.”
-Meg Myers
Klasse Ephemore System
Mobus: M-4: Surface
A Chiss long-range shuttle streaks through the thin atmosphere of Mobus’ fourth moon. At the controls, a furious and vengeful Balt’nashir’nuruodo, known by the CSA name Balthazar Nash, guides the ship through the narrow, winding, and frost-covered canyons to a hidden outpost he had established many years before. The family diplomatic cruiser is nearly indistinguishable amongst the jagged outcroppings at the sloped base of an expansive crescent canyon and provides the perfect overhead cover. Roughly landing the shuttle, he storms out into the swirling wisps of snow.
Balthazar has just returned from the nearby Yashuvhu where he found his currency and weapons stores plundered. There were signs of a battle with scorch marks from the blasters evident yet it triggered no alarm. The crown jewel of his armory, a superlaser secretly developed by Palace Arms capable of taking down a capital ship, was also missing. How could this have happened? He was meticulous in every detail, knowing how quickly the ruling families can turn on one another. There have been four for some time now but it was his intention to bring the two most influential together. That is until it all fell apart. It is his most spectacular failure, one that brought deep shame to their House and name. House Nuruodo and House Csapla would never be united and they would not control Ascendancy resources, foreign affairs, and military as one. It was a grand plan that would have made him and others immensely powerful. His clever scheming is tragically compromised. Things on Csilla had declined so rapidly upon his return from the Corporate Sector, leaving him few options aside from fight or run. They would not last long on their homeworld of Naporar and so they fell back to the outpost in order to regroup and gather supplies before plotting their next move. It seems they would have to brave the Unknown Regions with nothing, a reality that does not bode well for them.
Balthazar enters the outpost and catches the faintest hint of something burning. There is an unnatural silence that settles over the space, a hush that seems intentionally unnerving. He draws his blaster and calls out.
“Rinoa?”
“We are in here.”
That is not the voice of his wife. He moves carefully through each room until he comes to the small mess hall. Rinoa’s body is slumped sideways in a chair. Her head sits in the center of the table, cleanly cauterized at the neck. A female Chiss rises from the head of the table as he takes aim and fires. She ignites a red lightsaber in a hue matching her eyes and hair that reflects the bolt and destroys the blaster. He winces at the pain and drops the ruined weapon.
“Alia,” he mutters bitterly. “How did you-“
“Find you? You really are so predictable, Balthazar. Backed into yet another corner of your own construction and forced to run. I swore to my family I would not return until you were both punished. Funny how they suddenly appreciate my Sight in light of these…extenuating circumstances. The Ascendancy wants you dead.”
He draws back and sneers at her, “Our current situation is a direct result of Gellar’s lies. We had nothing to do with the incident on Hesperidium.”
She scoffs, twirling the humming blade around as she moves out from behind the table.
“It seems the Direx Board feels otherwise as they have stripped your voting rights and anything else that matters. Two of their heirs gone with you painted as the perfect villain. The revenues died right alongside your reputation. Your company, your legacy, has been sold off and repurposed. A wholly-owned subsidiary from what I hear. You let a spoiled human teenager outsmart you. Pathetic.”
“You know nothing about what you speak."
“I disagree,” Alia quips icily. “It is you who do not understand the magnitude of your mistake. Your short-sightedness in striking down Preston Dyre as means to drive your son into my arms is staggering.”
“Roman betrayed you as well by choosing that…that boy over you.”
“I could not stand the pouty twink, that much is true, but I understood his place. There would be no swaying Roman and you are lying to yourself if you thought otherwise. There was a more strategic way to go about it. I saw our union as superficial and intended to appeal to him under these circumstances in time. Roman would have come around once he understood what was really in it for him. It would be a partnership in name only, allowing our families to rule while making space for their romance, forbidden as it may have been. Could I have loved your son? Possibly but love was never part of the deal. You could have had everything, ruled all the ruling families but instead, you dashed those chances with your insipid machinations, and we both lost Roman.”
“So, this is your revenge then.”
“If you choose to view it that way. Unlike you, and your recently deceased wife, I still have a way to salvage my reputation and spare my family undue scrutiny from the others. They hate you more than me and I saw the perfect opportunity. Manipulation, as you well know, works both ways. I will restore my honor by reducing the four ruling families to three. That is part of the deal.”
“What deal?”
She smiles but it lacks any warmth or comfort, “The one I made with the Sith. They promised to help me hunt you down in exchange for assistance with the Gellar-Masterton’s. After all, they are the ones who corrupted Roman with their humanity in the first place. Without them, Roman would never have met Preston and, romance or not, he and I could have joined our families. Now, they will be punished just as you will.”
“Alia, we have the same enemy! Gellar must fall.”
“Fool,” she hisses, advancing on him. “You are all my enemies. There is nothing that you have that I could not take for myself. I will forge my own legacy with the end of House Nuruodo.”
Balthazar barely has time to open his mouth in protest before she is standing in front of him, slashing the glowing saber through his neck in one quick movement. She grabs his head as his body crumples to the floor, deactivating her weapon and clipping it to her belt. Tossing the severed head in a bag, she grabs Rinoa’s off the table and does the same, cinching it closed and slinging it over her shoulder. She would present them to the Aristocra as a symbol their family was no longer worthy of representing Chiss interests, here or elsewhere in the galaxy. They could not protect them if they could not even protect themselves. House Csapla would now control the military and phalanxes, giving her family a considerable increase in influence. It would also grant her the power, respect, and wealth to support her outside efforts. Balthazar was not the only one who turned their prowess and might into a barbarous jape in the Corporate Sector.
On the trek back to her own shuttle, hidden a few kilometers away, Alia detonates the charges she set within the outpost and on both vessels. The brilliant orange glow of the flames curling up into the frigid deep blue sky gives her the satisfying conclusion she was seeking. She accomplished what she set out to do, the catalyst for her dark awakening, and she guides her ship up through the gently falling snow into orbit. Roman has been avenged and soon she would go after those that softened him against the ways of the Chiss. Master Adubell showed her what the destiny of the famed and fabled Four brought to anyone who went near it. The prophecy brings death to all and she would make sure it found those responsible. She glances down at the darkening moon below.
“Cseo bisatahn’ho, taskebo lio’ci.”
With a smug smirk and the heads of House Nuruodo beside her, Alia’aelise’csapla pulls back on the controls and makes the jump to hyperspace for Csilla.
-TBC
-
“Time ticks into place
And lets you out in your old room
Mind begins to race
I haven’t done what I came to do
Oh, ooh, oh, no.”
-Friko
Hyperspace
Hurling through the milky swirls of the Perlemian Trade Route, they’ve had a bit of time to chat.
Through each interaction, Dahlia grows more convinced of his belief in her. And it feels…good. To have someone believe in her this way. In a way someone hasn’t believed in her since her adopted parents departed these worlds in a rather gruesome fashion and she was once again orphaned. She desperately wants to let go of her doubts, the lingering fears that he may eventually turn on them and doom distant descendants unknowingly waiting in line to be the next targets of the Voss-Ra’s reality-shaping spectacle, but the feeling persists.
She hears Barrett’s voice in the back of her head urging her to be cautious despite Seif’s pledge of loyalty. He chose her over them and she knows this was no small gesture, considering how much of his life had been wrapped up in their plans. That is not lost on her and so she mitigates the feelings of mistrust by conjuring an empathy and understanding that they are both being used and they are each other's only ways out.
Dahlia wants to stop the cycles as well – by winning. No more games.
Seif needs them to stop as the perpetual motion of the prophecy prevents him from ever maintaining any agency and stability.
In this, their goals are aligned and she prepares herself to be the vessel through which the galaxy is fractured by a war neither wants but will inevitably incite. After some stretching, training, and meditation, they retire for the evening to dream of what could be after this is all over.
As they slumber, the nav computer drops them out of hyperspace near Lantilles. A few moments pass as the computer recalculates then jumps again. A short hop before exiting again near a small, icy moon beyond which lay a stunning auburn and azure world not entirely unfamiliar although it has been some time since the world had been visited by a member of this particular family.
Seif is roused after they come out of the first jump and, groggily returning to the main cabin, only realizes what is happening shortly before they arrive at their destination and its potential impact.
The Princess, after a completely oblivious shower and outfit change, joins him and tilts her head at the scene before her, “That’s not…”
“No, it’s not.”
“Then, like, where are we?”
“Contruum,” he says lowly. It does not click with her as quickly as he would like so he adds, “Where your sister Karen was sent after they forced her into the Imperial diploserv program as part of the search for Alexia, where she first displayed a dark and terrifying power the way you did on Hesperidium.”
She swallows hard, “Oh.”
“That got your attention. It got theirs as well and solidified her stance as the Daughter of Darkness in the eyes of the Voss-Ra. She did well, all things considered, and secured Imperial interests on the planet. Not that it lasted.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Empire later...coerced Kimber Patten into a similar diplomatic role under the pretense we would rally forces behind Valerie Gellar’s campaign on Corellia against the Trade Federation. You know your history so you know that did not happen. Those pesky operatives, Max and Xam, had other directives, abducting and experimenting on a Hapan Admiral with an earlier prototype of what eventually became the Imperial Control Serum resulting in a rather bloody battle in which we were the victors."
The nanotech flowing through Quinn and Kinsa Cavanaugh used to turn them into lethal agents when necessary.
The same nanotech Schrag wanted to use to control her.
A shiver runs down the length of her spine as the cyclical nature of everything settles in.
“You sound as though this is not coincidental. Do tell.”
Seif’s half smile is hidden in shadow, “I selected Agent Scott St. Claire to procure Karen’s cooperation. The Voss-Ra requested my perspective and I was on hand to assist if anyone veered too far off script, if you will. Of all the candidates, St. Claire was hardened but not enough to resist forming an attachment to her and play the prophetic role of Unconventional Champion. Someone who would turn on their principles to keep her safe.”
“It only cost his life if I recall.”
“His and so many others. As I told you, the Voss-Ra are willing to go further than you or I could ever imagine in their attempts to fulfill the prophecy and allow the Sith to rise once more.”
“You didn’t stop my father. Or yours. As far as scripts go, I think we can safely say they weren’t reading from the same one as everyone else.”
“Not my call,” he says evenly. “And I believed the Voss-Ra had everything under control.”
“How has that worked out for you?”
“Don’t gloat and focus. I did not set this course. We were brought to Contruum.”
“Concerned but not surprised? I suppose we shouldn’t be by now. Wait, you said this shuttle was prepared for our trip. By who?”
“Those I thought I could trust.”
“Trust can be purchased, darling,” Dahlia murmurs as her emerald eyes are drawn to the world before them. However, it is not the larger planet that calls them nor the icy moon nearby. It is the innermost moon that beckons as if whispering through the stars to an exclusive audience.
There is something out there.
Down on that moon.
Calling.
Waiting.
For them.
-TBC
-
“When logic and proportion
Have fallen sloppy dead
And the White Knight is talking backwards
And the Red Queen’s off with her head
Remember what the dormouse said
Feed your head
Feed your head.”
-Jefferson Airplane
Contruum
An ominous feeling simmers between them, actively filling the space.
Under normal circumstances, he would evade her arrogantly pointed questions and withhold these feelings. Still, the strangeness of their arrival and discussion throughout their journey has given way to a more amenable exchange. She stands firmly behind his chair with a hand placed upon her hip.
“Not loving this for us. What happens when we are discovered?”
“Contruum remains Imperial aligned. Kimber Patten’s antics allowed us to make damn sure of that. Our avatars, after all, are emissaries of the Emperor so our presence should not be an issue.”
“How fortunate for us.”
Dahlia lowers her shoulders but knows this does not necessarily mean they are out of danger. Convenience may only be a pretext for something far darker. For his part, the context and shading provided were intriguing if not somewhat suspicious so she decides to push it.
“You said you didn’t know anything and were never involved with them.”
“I said not directly,” he reiterates, staring ahead. “Things may have gotten messy but we retained control here despite certain ethical detours. While the intrepid agent St. Claire did as instructed, I was unaware of his previous allegiance to the Trade Federation which…complicated things.”
“I hear dying tends to do that.”
“He was disavowed by the Empire first.”
She tilts her head, expression tightening in a way he finds infuriating, “How is that better?”
“No one said it was but he served his purpose. Played his role. Champions rise and fall, even unconventional ones.”
“You know, the mythological aspects of our lives are seriously disturbing when you really think about it. Solid lore though.”
“I suppose so, through a certain lens. Something I imagine appeals to you a great deal.”
“Obviously but indirect involvement still counts as involvement.”
“What are you asking me?”
“If you ever met them. The Four. Do not lie to me.”
He turns and takes a more measured tone.
“Not formally and met is a strong word. I only laid eyes on two of them in person. Here, in fact. On Contruum. I was dispatched in secret after Alexia’s behavior became increasingly erratic and she absconded with then-Emperor Dementat along with the governor of this world. Considering Karen’s…connection to the Emperor and sentimentality toward Governor Strye it became, as you say, a thing.”
Her eyes widen in anticipation, “I’ll bet. Please, continue.”
He allows it with a small nod.
“Alright.”
Considering its potential relevance, she has earned a bit more of his perspective.
“As the newly anointed Darth Kyja, Karen stormed into the government building with a rage that gave even me pause before promptly, if memory serves, physically and verbally assaulting several ranking Imperial staff, securing Kimber’s release from the increasingly sadistic games the Imperial Director – your father, as it turned out - was rumored to be playing with her, and took off after Alexia.
However, I was one of few people who ever saw Riley Patten’s mother and father together alive and bore witness to your elder sister practically torching the Imperial bureaucracy. The reaction to the whole ordeal was…mixed. There were many competing agendas as we have come to discover, the Imperial staff in question themselves were angry and confused, but Karen prevailed, the Voss-Ra’s faith in her solidified, and I returned to my post far, far away from here for the rest of it to play out. We know how that story ended.”
“We certainly do,” she murmurs, eyes shifting back to the moon they are steadily approaching. “So, we share a peripheral connection to this place but I must be missing the deeper significance.”
“Perhaps you are being tested. Both of your sisters displayed feats of skill and strength here.”
“Or we are being punished for exerting the agency you so impressively wrested back from Erinbol. Neither the Sith nor the Voss-Ra may appreciate us putting them in their places which is, let’s be honest, secondary to the roles we play. We are, according to them, destined for this. You think they would appreciate the initiative.”
Seif considers this while he transmits their credentials and destination to central command. Orders from the Emperor provide swift clearance to proceed without interruption.
“It would be risky to intentionally place you in a situation that may harm their chances yet again but they have gone to greater lengths before. To your point, this may not be the Voss-Ra’s machinations we are dealing with here. We shall investigate but stay alert.”
“Fine but keep it cool. We’ve got enough to worry about.”
Seif Guldon-Greyson senses a softening in her. There is still skepticism but also a willingness that had not existed before they departed from Byss. He made his choice and it forged trust, however tentative at first, which was quickly solidifying. She has started to care for him as well. Something he had, admittedly, always wanted. The connection. The family they kept from him. As tempting as the prospect is, he also knows this path leads to a distraction they simply cannot afford.
“Don’t. Empathy does not lend itself to the goals of the Sith.”
Her eyes are consumed with the stars beyond the viewport, “Perhaps…for what the Sith once was, not what it could be. Imagine...”
“The certainty in that statement is frightening.”
“It is meant to be,” she quips evenly, straightening her posture to push impossibly shiny hair over one shoulder. “That whole solo power trip vibe is tired. Played out. Feeling the feels is what the Sith are all about. I feel what I feel and I said what I said. Deal with it.”
His tone turns warning, “We talked about this. The only thing tired is your attempt at being flip even when we both know that is all part of the act.”
She sighs, expression hardening with resolve.
“The goal is power and the freedom that brings us but we only get that by winning. I understand that very clearly, thank you, and so do you. This is our only way out but, speaking of it, how has your solo power trip worked out for you? Is that what you wanted or is this what they told you to want? The Voss-Ra are the ones who changed things up for us, leveraging different roles in different ways to win.
You and I were never meant to be allies. Alas, here we are. If this had played out like a previous cycle they would have had one of us kill the other. Then where would we be? I say we make the most of this new frontier. Progress is not made with more of the same but hoping you don’t, like, die or whatever does not deter my focus nor does it obscure what must be done.”
“A rousing speech, to be sure, but I do not want your pity, princess.”
She rolls her eyes, “Let’s not get carried away. What’s down there?”
“A base, strategically hidden for planetary defense. It was converted for Imperial purposes after the planet declared its allegiance but, to my knowledge, seldom if ever used. That is where I feel it. Calling. Don’t you?”
“Yes but, for the record, if we get blasted to bits I am going to be super pissed.”
Seif groans wearily but guides the shuttle down and through the projection concealing the entrance to the base. A rather clever ruse to maintain its secrecy that he had been privy to on his last visit so many years ago. He sets them down on an empty platform, vast but tidy even in its apparent lack of use. They suit up; his hulking orange armor and her black mask, bodysuit, and cape. The hazy glow of the Etheralis fragment in his chest plate brightens her eyes behind the reflective void of her mask. She allows the intoxicating power to wash over her before turning and descending the platform together.
No one appears to greet them.
This does not deter Dahlia the way he feels it should. She struts steadily in front of him, heading for the blast door at the far end of the platform, finally feeling back at home in the chunky heels of her killer boots.
“Get a grip. This is a hangar bay, not a runway,” he hisses lowly, voice menacingly distorted.
“Everything’s a runway if you want it to be, darling. Don’t be so downbeat.”
“As usual, the brash humor is not helpful.”
“I’m tense. Cut me some fucking slack,” she mutters as they close in on the door.
They position themselves against either side, ready for a nasty surprise as she hits the controls, but beyond that, there is only more nothingness. Empty corridors and a heavy silence. Not so much as a repair droid zipping about. The unobstructed entry would almost be considerate if it were not so terrifying.
It is clear whatever brought them here does not want any witnesses, a realization not lost on either of them.
They follow the feeling that led them here, a dark pit that beckons from within. Her hand hovers over the saber at her belt as they press deeper. Twisting inward toward the center of the base, they emerge on a cargo platform near the bottom of a large, narrow shaft cutting through the center of the base. Crates and various electrical equipment lie orderly in the corners but it otherwise appears uninhabited.
Neither is comforted by the apparent anticlimax.
“I don’t like this. Here’s the hook but where’s the catch?”
Two figures blurred in motion, drop from the shaft onto the platform and rise to greet them.
Inquisitor Allom.
Inquisitor Feraas.
It is Feraas who speaks, “Inquisitor Involis, Darth D’Cera, we welcome you.”
-TBC
-
“You and I got some troubles we’re facing
I know we can make it staying high in low places.”
-Beach Weather
Contruum
Moon Base
“You?” Involis breaths. “You brought us here?”
The tension in the air pulls tight like the loop of a noose.
Allom answers, “Indeed we did.”
“Emperor Schrag will never stand for this.”
The hollow laughter that follows, echoing across the vast space of the platform, is far from reassuring.
“Schrag has become weak,” Faraas says evenly. “He hides behind that boy, granting him such latitude and longevity. The galaxy could be the Empire’s again in an instant – all he needs to do is move to seize it – but alas he does not. Shrewd as he may be, Schrag has never been a coward, and yet he hesitates, hidden away at the citadel on Byss. Trusting our fate to Trevaithan…and another Winton.”
D’Cera tilts her mask back, amused, “You brought us here to air your grievances with Schrag’s succession planning?”
“That seems a bit trite for us Inquisitors, no?”
“Not when you consider what we stand to lose. The last Winton ruined everything for us when Dementat followed that traitorous redhead to the grave on Centerpoint. Schrag did what he could to rehabilitate the Empire but coming back from that kind of a loss, one that allowed the Republic to grow into the menace it now presents, was an arduous task even for the most seasoned tacticians. Leveraging a questionable truce to bolster galactic standing was an…unexpected move, but contaminated by a Winton and her associates.”
“So, this is about me. Typical.”
“Not just you,” Allom hisses, tone rising in annoyance. “The Empire. The Sith. We will not be defeated by the spectacular hubris of The Four again.”
Involis has taken in their surroundings and assessed the nature of their setting. A private chat in a symbolic setting. Intimate, industrial, but the poetry is too nuanced for the Inquisitors which tells him there is something more, not just beneath their masks but beneath their motives. The misgivings about Dahlia are not a surprise, considering they mirror those about Karen and likely any other Winton that came before. Their pettiness, superficiality, and vanity read as liabilities unless you know how best to exploit those to one’s advantage. They could also be envious that they are not as favored now by the Emperor, or at least the appearance of what now sits on Schrag's throne. More Voss-Ra smoke and mirrors, a testament to their commitment and their power. However, his counterparts have gone to great lengths to arrange this little scene and so he must know what has compelled them to do something so melodramatic.
“What makes you so certain that she will fail?”
Allom raises an arm and extends a finger at D’Cera directly.
“You are not the true Daughter of Darkness the sorcerers have foreseen. You plot and you play but you toil away while the Republic is ripe for the crippling. The Four lives in part to your attachment and subsequent inaction. You, my dear, are not playing to win.”
D’Cera squares her shoulders, defiant, “Is that so? The implication being that there is someone who is – tell me, I am dying to know.”
Feraas ignites his saber, “Someone far more powerful than either of you.”
“I suppose we will see,” Involis counters, igniting his own. The jagged weapon eases out of his armor to match that which pulses within its center.
Feraas feels its power radiating, words whispered uncoiling like tendrils in his mind.
Faraas and Involis clash together in the center of the platform. Brothers come to blows. These are ideological lines, ones that he has only recently crossed. Whatever they think will happen by taking Winton out of the equation is one hell of a lie. As his saber connects with Faraas’s again, and again, and again, he wonders just what kind of evidence they had been presented to the contrary. The Inquisitors know their roles under Emperor Schrag’s rule, having hunted down scores of Jedi and Force-sensitives across the galaxy after being expelled from Chandaar. So many had been slain and with each one they struck down they knew the significance of it. In it. Exterminate any potential resistance to their power so that once the Sith rose there would be no one who could stop them. All of these actions are predicated on Winton proving victorious over Masterton, Patten, and Gellar.
What has changed?
D’Cera senses the shift, a compulsive desire behind it, and extends both hands to separate them with a burst of telekinetic energy.
“I am not the only reason you summoned us here.”
“Not entirely. Disappointed?”
“Kinda am.”
“You are only an instrument, Darth D’Cera. Means to an end. Except this time, not ours. There are other tools to be leveraged. It is the piece of the Etheralis we have also come to reclaim. To return to the one it truly belongs to.”
“The Etheralis? Who has filled your heads with such a big word?”
Allom laughs from where he has been standing sentry to the skirmish before them.
“An old mentor, from what we were told. The one whose counsel you disregarded. You have made too many enemies, my dear. Not enough allies.”
“There it is,” she says sharply, angling her head her cousin’s way. “Told you she would be a problem.”
Involis glowers darkly, “Adubell sent you.”
“She appeared at the Inquisitorious shortly after you two last departed. Fascinating women with a rather…interesting perspective. She made some compelling arguments.”
“I’ll bet. Surely you see through these lies? How she is using you?”
“She told us of the power in uniting the Etheralis. Bringing all four together as they were meant to be. You are merely a distraction. A false idol. The Lady Adubell is the rightful heir to the Prophecy Persephonea! She will bring forth the return of the Sith.”
D’Cera has got to hand it to Adubell. Immortal and totally delusional? Neat! Off the rails does not even begin to cover it. She would dare to try and take this from her? Blasphemy! She would feel bad about not killing her when she had the chance except she, like, did – and yet here they are. A maniac mixed up with her father’s quest for immortality now seemingly bent on retconning their entire existence.
This is not the role she was meant to play, Involis muses. This interloper. Rage ripples through him.
“Adubell may have enchanted you with her promises but this serves only her interests if this is what she now claims. The Sith will not rise in her name – only a Winton victorious will create the future we seek. The Voss-Ra have foreseen it. You know this. You have always known this. What magic now has you so twisted that you believe otherwise?”
Allom snaps back sharply.
“Not magic, merely fact. The Lady Adubell transcends death. The sorcerers may see many things, but they do not know everything. They have been wrong so many times before, misplaced their faith so egregiously it defies logic. Do you deny this?”
The words, laced with venom, pierce the armor to sting his skin beneath. The Voss-Ra raised him, taught him, trained him, and that blinded him to certain truths. Truths that have become more glaring and unavoidable which informed his path forward. Dahlia has only exacerbated this situation, acting as both a foil and a future to his journey. They have made progress throughout the cycles, adjusting and recalibrating the pieces and players into position, but ultimately failed to execute on the promise of the prophecy and the glory it purports to reward them.
“I do not.”
“Then you see our predicament,” Faraas sighs. “Trust the Voss-Ra when their failures mount or seek a new path to victory through Adubell? The prospect is…refreshing. A broken stalemate. Even you have to see the value in it, Involis. Winton must be eliminated but you have a choice. Die with her or rule with us.”
Allom nods to him, “All you must do is surrender your armor and the fragment that lies within it. Yours will make three – quite a collection. We are so close. Join us and bring forth a new era.”
It surprises him how easily the words appear on his tongue, the strength of his belief, “No.”
Whether they anticipated this answer or not, they do not show it. A hush falls over the platform.
“So be it, Inquisitor Involis. You will give us the Etheralis or we will take it from you.”
“Then we will kill you both.”
D’Cera’s saber is pulled into a tensed, gloved hand, fingers curling slowly around the hilt. The brilliant pink hue reflects off the blackness of her mask.
“Neither of those things will be happening tonight, darling.”
“Once again, your Highness,” Allom says, saber glow casting menacing shadows across his form. “You are very, very wrong.”
-TBC
-
“'Cause when something makes you shook
‘Cause there’s no way in and there’s no way out
There’s no getting off this hook
My life’s just a western, you’re born to fight
No luck all night, can you make it till sunset?”
-Nilüfer Yanya
Contruum
Moon Base
The Inquisitors are formidable.
Involis comes down hard on Feraas, impressed they took Adubell’s words so plainly and set out to do her bidding. It is not vision they lack. It is patience. Something the Voss-Ra and even the Sith Order believe is the key to their ultimate success. Adubell had pushed them to act but it was not the way. The Sith have risen before and would rise again…with the victor and leader to show them the way. Abudell was not that leader, of that he is certain, and she would not see victory in this.
They are also mistaken.
Barrett Trevaithan shares his own connection to the Force, one that makes him more dangerous than either of them realizes. Schrag saw the threat in him. As does Erinbol. The only difference is that Schrag took action to control him through Princess Dahlia and the Imperial Control Serum which proved…unwise. He would not have taken such an action had fear not served a convincing motive.
As parents of the past would likely attest – if any were still around to do so – controlling The Four was far more difficult than it appears. He knows because he watched from afar as Alexander, Monica, Celeste, Henrick, Blair, Kyri, and Lilandra lost complete control of everything they ever loved – their children spiraling into bloodshed and madness and they went down right along with them.
One way or another.
Players, pawns. Heroes, villains. Sinners, sacrifices.
Sorcerers weaved webs while opportunists took full advantage along the way. Erinbol knows better than that because he, like the Voss-Ra, is playing the long game. The Corellian doctor, the Republic liaison, the Corporate Sector hero, the last remaining Inquisitors – all reek of Abudell’s intention to undermine the Voss-Ra’s foretold future to claim it all for herself. They have once again allowed someone to capitalize on the power it offers. An easy proposition with such a sinister sway but in the end they all grasp for something that they would never have. Something that was never meant for them. So much nuance in prophecy, divinations, and interpretations leads some to see what they want to see.
Until one wins, dark or light
Repeat, repeat eternal fight
Yet it has always ended the same, at least to this point – with everyone in the grave. He had even come to accept that he might wind up there as well in service of it. Lost to the legend of it all. Until Winton prevails. The central tenant of The Covenant. Dark or light is practically irrelevant, the methods through which Winton wins, and it is only that they triumph while the others perish. The concept, convoluted and mysterious, was not something many understood – obviously - as the Voss-Ra only came to understand its meaning and value a few generations before. The Voss-Ra could stage the scene but they could not be the ones to take action directly. They could not win for the Winton, the Winton had to win on their own. But it was do or die this time for the sorcerers in the shadows.
In their blood rituals, they saw The Four’s potential for peace – if left to live out their lives as they were set, undoing the strides the previous cycle had made. It has been drilled into him after Centerpoint, after all that planning and work destroyed. They would be set back decades and seek to sow instability, conceal themselves in glamours to whisper just the right things to just the right people for them to then take steps that would bring The Four back together and push everyone to the precipice of a galactic confrontation. A crisis to solve, a path to glory, immortalization across the ages. And so, here they are.
Dahlia was right and if they were not careful, this base would become their tomb and their blood would christen a new age.
The Age of Adubell.
Never.
While he takes on Feraas, D’Cera engages Allom. She and Involis keep a distance between them, always the other at their back. D’Cera does not disappoint and in this moment she is suddenly grateful for Erinbol’s training. Pushing her harder than she thought possible, preparing her for the worst possible scenarios. They may believe her their savior but that did not mean she would not have to fight for it. They never lied about that, at least. She channels her radiating hatred for Adubell’s attempt to hijack her main character arc into every tactical strike and evasive spin. That monster has some real nerve! Allom views D’Cera as merely an obstacle and wields his saber as an instrument of destruction. After all their hunting and slaying, the possible targets naturally thinned out and the Inquisitors had become complacent, bored. It reflects in his movements. Performing yet another task – although this had the promise of a far more lucrative payoff. An end to their frustration and stagnation as they rose with the Sith to power once more. It is that complacency that D’Cera uses against him. She is light, graceful, but vicious as she batters him back against the crates of supplies tucked neatly into the corners of the platform.
He leaps onto one and then another, narrowly missing a swipe to his legs. She attempts to counter his high ground with a push of the crate beneath him, a quick gesture as he aims to leap again, causing him to stumble and drop to her level. Seizing the moment, she springs forward, bringing the saber across horizontally but he recovers, jerking back quickly as the tip of the weapon hisses across the front of his chest plate. Allom uses the movement against her, swinging his gloved fist up and across her mask in a dastardly backhand. She staggers, feeling herself caught in his Force-grip, chest aching from the pressure, and is pitched mercilessly toward the edge. The tumble is righted on the second roll but it takes a desperate tug at the larger crate to keep her from toppling out into the space beyond. He leaps high to land beside her and brings his saber down ruthlessly. She jams her own between them and they connect, fighting the sickening screech and bending toward her mask.
“A valiant effort, your Highness, but this is where you exit the production.”
Her laugh is dry but deep, “You underestimate many things, Inquisitor Allom. Adubell. Me. Only one of us leads to resurrection, the other to ruin. You may want to reevaluate your choices.”
“Overestimating yourself, as always.”
“Let us find out,” she snarls, a flare of hatred pulsing darkness through her to push him up and away just enough to allow her to snap to her feet. Their sabers are still crossed but he does not waver. Finally, they break, twisting and striking at each other as they angle back toward the shifted and scattered tower of crates full of service equipment meant to be transported throughout the base. D’Cera forces him into a makeshift corridor, keeping him attentive to prevent an aerial escape. His truncated swing catches the side of her suit, searing pain lancing through her shoulder. She screams, bringing down her own weapon against the storage case beside them. Sparks blinding him. D’Cera forces him away from her, recalibrating herself before advancing and leaping to strike.
He uses his free hand to snare her ankle with a coil of wire, dragging her down roughly against the floor. She gasps for breath, Allom striding toward her, and channels energy into a fist that she slams down against the durasteel beneath her, creating a concussive ripple that throws his balance. She pulls herself into a crouch and vaults forward, using both momentum and the gatherings of the Force to bring a fist into the center of his chest to send him crashing through a palate. Raising her saber, she stalks forward. Allom’s blade cuts upward, slashing through the cargo around him. There are more coils of thick wire that he steps through before charging. Their sabers clash once again, a tighter, more controlled confrontation in the narrower space. He clenches his open hand, pulling her legs out from under her, and cuts down. She blocks and tries to slide away but he is determined now, relentlessly pushing down. Her shoulder is screaming, her arm giving way as his humming blade edges toward her mask.
Reaching out, she unloops the wire behind them up and around his neck. She wills it tighter, wrenching him away, freeing space between them. She knocks his saber arm out and swipes upward, taking it off with a sickening hiss. He growls as her boots find purchase and finally allows her to slide back, rising slowly before him. The pink saber reflected in his mask. She has no mercy to give, swiping off his head at the base of the neck. His helmet hits the scuffed durasteel floor with a dull thud as his body goes limp, slipping out from under the wire, across the smooth, smoldering stump of his neck, and falling flat. The thrill of the act simmers across the surface of her skin and D’Cera tilts her mask back to appraise her work.
Play to win, bitch.
On the other side of the platform, Involis has locked Faraas in a battle of endurance, movement within the armor limited but more powerful. He counters Feraas evenly but neither has taken nor ceded much ground. He considers, briefly, combining his and Dahlia’s powers as they had on Hesperidium – using it against the other Inquisitors to gain a decisive victory – but decides against it, wisely. It is untested and the results unpredictable – neither he nor Dahlia could have known what would happen. Both could just as easily wind up teleporting into the bowels of the base.
“Your faith in them is admirable, Involis, but unfounded. Why wait when the chance for victory is so near?”
“That it is, and yet your faith is misplaced.”
“Is it?” he sneers, saber in front of him. “Or it is you who have placed faith where it should not exist? The sorcerers have not told you everything.”
“Not everything is for them to tell. They are the stewards of the prophecy, not its architects.”
“Yet it seems they conceal truth even to its most ardent enforcers, as was, it seems, the case with your mother.”
He tenses, willing himself to shield his mind from these lies, “No. She has been dead for years.”
“Lady Adubell told us differently. She knows what the Jedi and the Gellar clone have been up to, a visit to Naboo where Elle Greyson had been stashed away in the throes of madness for all these years. They kept you separated from your family to keep you under control, never allowing enough of a connection with insane Alexia or a spoiled Karen to sever your service to them. Their struggles were separate from your mission and you maintained your dutiful distance. Your father may have been long dead but your mother? That would have been something to shake your confidence in them and make you question your loyalty. Even liars can be lied to.”
No. No. But Involis is shaken and he stumbles, leaving enough of an opening for Faraas to slash at his elbow and knee, armor taking most of the damage but getting a little too close. The Voss-Ra would not have kept this from him, would they? Why? How? He considers the source yet it is such a specific and targeted deception. A revelation that would only mean something to him. Distraction and doubt pull his mind in too many directions. Feraas lands a kick at the side of his helmet. Involis’s returns are weakened by his shock and Feraas takes every opportunity to strike, catching the top of his armored glove where his saber is mounted into, shorting it, a green glow winking out. He catches and grips him tightly with the Force, pressing in on the armor so it begins to crush the man beneath. His heavy boots grate against the floor as he is dragged toward the edge. With a brisk stabbing motion, Feraas punctures the casing in the center of the armor, exposing the Etheralis fragment which he then plucks out. It glows brightly in his hand.
“Such a fool,” Faraas spits venomously. “A waste. Winton may be your last mistake but I will be sure to cherish it.”
With that, he releases him – D’Cera sprinting toward them with an arm outstretched.
Inquisitor Involis disappears over the side of the platform.
-TBC
-
“And no, she can’t slow down if she wanted to
Yeah, the speakers so loud, spinning around the room
And I don’t where I’m going but I gotta move
She said, “Boy, boy, are you coming too?”
-almost monday
Contruum
Moon Base
Darth D’Cera is too late.
As Inquisitor Involis vanishes below the platform, out of sight and into the void, Inquisitor Faraas turns to face her. She stops short but keeps a firm grip on her saber. He apprises her with amusement, attention shifting ever so slightly to acknowledge Allom’s head resting on the scuffed durasteel behind her. A victory, but a fleeting one. Stiffening, he manages a gruff laugh.
“Take comfort in your anger. After all, it was you who sent him to the grave.”
“Is this the part where you lecture me about female rage?”
“Deflection does not diminish your failure, D’Cera.”
“Allom may disagree. I saw you two talking. What did you tell him?”
“Only the truth,” he says with a simple shrug. “Now you must face your own.”
He lowers his voice to issue the directive slowly. Crisp and clear.
“Winton is not the way.”
She scoffs bitterly, “And you believe Adubell is? Her? I thought the Inquisitors were smarter than that.”
He is unphased, smug, spitting his words at her with sheer malice.
“All you represent is generations of misplaced faith. A physical manifestation of the lies those decrepit sorcerers told to maintain the power and influence they have had for far too long. We have made our choice. You are not it.”
He holds up the piece of the Etheralis.
“We got what we came for. The only thing left is to deal with you.”
She flicks her wrist and slowly opens her hand to reveal the fragment in her palm.
“You mean this?”
The shock is priceless and reverberates through his body. He glances at his glove where it had been only seconds before then back at her. No! The spoiled socialite would not distract him with her cheap parlor tricks. She would pay for Allom as she would pay for her delusion in the prophecy! Igniting his saber, he lunges with a roar. Then he freezes, held in place, every muscle constricted and taut. He arches his back, arms forced down to his sides, as he is lifted from the platform surface. The saber drops and clatters to the floor. In her hand, the fragment glows a vibrant green, reflecting a brilliant and blinding glow off her smooth, dark mask. It is her turn to apprise him, but this time with judgment and contempt.
Faraas watches helplessly as her fingers close around the Etheralis. Four delicate tendrils of energy pulse from her fist and encircle her, disappearing against the black suit. She does not know how or why it happens, only that she suddenly feels more connected to everything than she ever has. The hatred is intense but more accessible and tangible. Focused.
She can see quite clearly now and knows exactly what must be done.
“H-h-how?” he chokes out.
“Wrong question.”
“Y-you are an a-a-abomination, a f-fraud-”
“I am many things, Inquisitor Faraas, but that is rather beside the point now. That choice you spoke of. Let me be the last to tell you that it was incorrect. In fact, allow me to show you.”
He feels her power flare. D’Cera clenches her fist tighter but his screams of agony go unheeded as his body is forcibly wrenched back, spine snapping loudly as he encircles himself between his own legs, head coming to rest at the front of his stomach. She waits for the gasps and sputters of realization, garbled as his mouth fills with blood, come to an excruciating end. A mangled mess of limbs and broken skin, she lets him drop to the floor.
Exhaling, she deactivates her saber and clips it to her belt then tucks the Etheralis fragment into her suit. Stepping around what is left of Faraas, she peers over the edge. The wave of sorrow is held at bay by the simmering effects of the Etheralis and so she lowers her head to honor the loss quietly. As she means to turn and survey the damage and plot her next move, something catches her eye. A flicker in the layers of darkness below. Movement.
She drops to her knees, clutching the edge to steady herself while using the mask enhancements provided by the Voss-Ra to focus on the blur in the waning light of the abyss. It darts in and out of view, below the platform before reappearing again. Back and forth. With each reappearance, something catches the light, briefly, a flash of…orange.
“Son of a bitch,” she breathes.
Tracing a thin, faintly visible cord back up to the platform beneath them, she realizes he must have activated something from his armor as he fell. Her cousin is just full of surprises, it seems, but she obviously cannot reach the cord from here. Scanning the area, she does not immediately see a skiff or transport that would bring her down safely, only loaders for cargo. There are cables nearby, strewn across the destroyed crates from her and Allom’s battle, but lowering them would require his consciousness and participation, neither of which she could guarantee. There is no telling what kind of shape he’s in or if he is even alive.
She needs to do this herself.
D'Cera lays flat on her stomach, drawing from the power of the Etheralis against her body, and extends a hand over the edge. She focuses on his form, the air around it, light, swinging like a pendulum, and calls it to her. Guiding him upward. His armor finally crests the edge, and, with a final burst of strength, she hauls him up and back onto the platform. His armor crashes against the durasteel floor. The grappling hook detaches from his plated glove and slithers back with a snap into the darkness below.
She lays beside him for a while, spent from the exertion, the fighting, her shoulder injury screaming for attention, and stares into his mask. A small laugh escapes her lips, realizing now the thought of losing him wounded her more deeply than it should have. He warned her of this. Dangerous as familial attachments can be it is not a connection she can simply set aside. She does not want to do this alone, even if that defies something sacred about the Sith.
More immediate issues await, so she again draws strength from the Etheralis and rises.
Procuring a loader, she dumps both parts of Allom and what remains of Faraas next to the hulking mass of Involis and slowly traverses her way back through the base to the landing pad and their ship. It is a trek made in silent reflection at their battle and lessons learned. She fought well and prevailed – a test the Voss-Ra would no doubt celebrate – yet the revelation of Adubell’s claim and the acolytes she turned bring new and ominous questions to the forefront. There is no telling how many she has drawn to her cause now. The added assistance against Dane, Gemma, and Riley also means she is in more imminent danger from unexpected and unnecessary sources than strictly should be allowed for this stage of the plan.
Once inside the shuttle, a feat unto itself, she closes the ramp and pulls off his helmet to find him breathing beneath it. His eyes roll and open without really focusing.
“You did it,” he mumbles with an unconcealed trace of sarcasm.
She pulls off her own and smiles, “I did. What’s your damage?”
“Bruised but alive, mostly,” he whispers, easing himself up against the wall. “Faraas…he took…”
“Except he didn’t.”
She withdraws the Etheralis fragment from her suit. It glows in her gloved hand.
He winces as he attempts a smirk, “Go team.”
She flips her hair and pushes the piece back into the center of his chest plate, snapping it into place. His armor, battered as it is, hums to life. He straightens visibly and takes a few long, deep breaths, already looking remarkably better. The connection to it clearly heightens the ability to channel the Force, but there is still much she does not know about it.
“What do you say we dump these Inquisitors and get out of here?”
“No,” he says, more strength in his tone. “Misled or not, they deserve better. Take us to Contruum and we will send them off on the surface.”
She nods, leaving him temporarily to tend to her wounds before guiding them out of the base. He'll need a minute anyway. The urge to ask him what happened is overwhelming, but she knows him well enough now to give him some space. Whatever was said caused him to shut down completely. That much she saw which means it must have pierced the cool veneer of detachment and that is a frightening thing indeed. She retraces the route Seif used to get them in and makes haste for the swirling planet beyond. She is stiff and sore, but her shoulder would heal. Nothing a bacta pad and some focus couldn’t handle. She was good but she was also lucky.
They both were.
Surface
The coast.
Dahlia and Seif are unsteady on the sand. The Imperial Academy looms in the distance, a symbol encased in shadow as the sun slips behind the horizon, deepening the sky with dark purples and glimmers of pink. A full circle moment. The daughters of Alexander Winton make lasting impressions on Contruum. Threats to each of their roles are handled dramatically and often gruesomely. Vicious cycles. A proud papa pleased even in hell. She never knew him and is not misguided enough to want to follow in his footsteps. He never really wanted Karen to win, she ponders dimly. He only ever wanted what was in it for him – just as Adubell does.
They build two pyres and place the remains of the Inquisitors upon them. Seif silently hands her a driftwood torch and she sets both ablaze. They step back and watch as the flames dance higher, embers caught in the breeze. Seif raises the flask he’s holding before taking a slug. He does not offer it to her. She does not protest, aloud at least, since they are both thinking the same thing. This makes him the last Inquisitor. A wayward one, at that.
Fallen.
Lost the mission.
Allowed a Winton to influence him just as the Voss-Ra expected them to.
All part of the plan.
For her.
For the Covenant.
The Winton must survive.
The Winton must win.
It’s all he heard. All he’s ever known.
And now they are here, Winton and Greyson-Guldon, faced with more lies.
Her voice breaks the spiral.
“What now? Continue to Chandaar as planned?”
It is a sensible thing to do. It is what they set out to do. But it is not what he wants to do. Barrett Trevaithan has a handle on things for the moment and plenty to work with. The Republic could unravel a bit longer. He had warned her against it, questioning their roles, but this had changed everything for him. He does not know who he really is. Where Seif ends and Involis begins. The Voss-Ra would answer for this. One way or the other. His features cloud over with anger, the fire alight in his eyes.
“Now we go to Dathomir.”
-TBC