CC: The Crimson Covenant

[Syren]

"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

[Syren]

"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

[Syren]

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

[Medivh]

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

[Medivh]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Medivh]

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?

[Medivh]

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

[Medivh]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Medivh]

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.

[Syren]

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