CC: The Crimson Covenant

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

"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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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

[Syren]

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