CC: The Crimson Covenant

[Syren]

Uviuy Exen

Orbit: Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet 

Several members of the Jedi crew spar with each other, sabers clashing as they flip and twirl in a balletic display of skill and control. They had gotten good. Very good. They work well together as a team now but it had been a long road. After their near-defeat at Jedha, they needed to heal and regroup. While Gemma had been away, they had gotten close and that makes Lady Masterton the outsider in a band of outsiders.

Demaris Atrii contemplates her discussion with Riley, drawing nearer to the conclusion that the Inquisitor would only have tried to eliminate the Empire’s assets as a means of retaliation. Or precaution. Many of them represent a potential threat to Schrag’s strategic and now seemingly well-secured throne. Peace with the Republic, if that’s what they call that, was a smart move. Chandaar is a teaming cesspit of conspiracy and paranoia thanks to them. Barrett’s slip of the tongue to Riley and Gemma on Hesperidium confirms a terrible theory she floated to a surprisingly receptive Taarek – the Sith have been behind this all along. 

If they were looking to recruit, there was no better candidate than Alia. She was never going to be on the straight-and-narrow, despite Roman’s hopefulness. She did not want to be saved. And for what? A death that never happened. Roman didn’t die but Alia doesn’t know that. How could she? No one can know. His father, Balthazar Nash, had been driven back to Csilla and his company under the interim control of a no-doubt Imperial-friendly pro tempore. Demaris would like to think Roman’s survival would have kept Alia from crossing sides but she isn’t stupid. Alia was exactly who the dark side of the Force had been waiting for. 

Great, she thinks, just what they need; another enemy. 

The loop theory tugs at her thoughts as well. Roman may have survived but Dahlia did not. It again throws the theory into question but there is something about it Demaris cannot shake. If those that came before them weren’t the first Four and events were shaped to produce similar results then it would imply an outside influence. The Sith may be the convenient obvious choice but there is one thing they haven’t really focused on enough – the identity of the Inquisitor. 

“What if it’s the Inquisitor?”

Taarek and Riley, engaged in conversation nearby, turn to her suddenly. 

“What about it?”

“We don’t know who it is,” she says. “In fact, I don’t think anyone has even stopped to ask. Riley, you see events playing out in ways that mirror the past but why?”

“Shit luck?”

“Twist of fate?”

She smiles but shakes her head, “Not so in the previous case. The Holo-doc postulated that Alexander Winton had been scheming behind the scenes all along. He rigged the game. So, if you see it happening again, who’s pulling the strings now?”

Riley’s head tilts left in thought, “You think it’s the Inquisitor?”

“Traditionally,” Taarek says. “The Inquisitor’s do the bidding of others as a means of enforcement and punishment. They aren’t the masterminds, just the ruthless muscle.”

“Perhaps but Emperor Schrag doesn’t strike me as superstitious and trying to fulfill a prophecy where he’s not on the throne seems counter-intuitive. He’s too smart for that which is why dispatching them makes more sense.”

“So, the Inquisitor was sent to eliminate these threats but is secretly plotting to overthrow Schrag? I dunno, Demaris. The Inquisitor seemed pretty intent on taking us down. You weren’t there, you don’t know what it was like.”

She raises her hands; palms open as a sign of non-hostility. 

“I’m not trying to minimize the trauma you suffered but let’s look at the facts as you presented them. The Inquisitor sought out your group but was only directly responsible for one death – Ples Aguilar. Trichelle Corinthos later died as a result of her injuries. Dahlia and, presumably, the Inquisitor, died by her hand, er, powers. Who is to say Ples and Trichelle weren’t the intended targets? No one knew Dahlia was going to react like that.”

“Dahlia’s dead,” Taarek says sternly. “Even if the Inquisitor had an agenda, it failed. The prophecy came to pass before because of a loophole – Riley survived the Battle of Centerpoint. If someone was trying to conversely fulfill it where a Winton rules over a dark Empire, they blew their chance when that tower went down. There is no course to correct now. It’s over.”

“Let's hope so,” Riley sighs wearily. “You do, however, bring up a good point. We don’t know who the Inquisitor was or what it wanted but now we may never get a chance. There hasn’t been any word out of Hesperidium on the incident so my question is – where do we go from here?”

“You and Gemma are supposedly dead and we’re being hunted. I guess that puts major systems out of the running given the expansive reach of the Republic whose borders are being secured by Imperial forces.”

“We could always escape into the Unknown Regions until we figure things out.”

“Are you insane? That’s potential suicide.” 

“We can’t stay here among the Colonies. It’s enemy territory as far as we’re concerned. I say we ride to the end of the Hydian Way and cool off in the Outer Rim. There are plenty of remote options like Anoth, Kinooine or Skye.”

Demaris looks concerned, “That’s the edge of Wild Space, no? Somehow that’s even scarier than the Unknown Regions.”

“Being found and captured before we have a plan is worse. I vote we head rimward.”

“The others must have a say as well. It’s their lives too.”

Taarek nods, “Make it quick. Even under the cover of Uviuy Exen’s glow, we are not safe here.”






-TBC

[Syren]

Korriban

Surface

In the darkness of the caves, there is only fear. Fear is the first step. It is the foundation of the dark side of the Force laid in its barest of forms. Caught in the deepest throes of it is Alia. She is hunched on the ground, panting for breath as the sting of the last cut fades. Adubell is somewhere in the darkness, taunting her. Waiting. Testing. Alia had endured much since their journey but it was her spitefulness that always did her in. The glow of the saber appears in the periphery to her right but before she can act, the tip of the blade sears across her shoulder before hissing out.

“Still too slow. You are worthless.”

“Not according to my trust fund,” Alia bites out, laughing.

It does not amuse Adubell.

“You sound like her. The ungrateful bitch. She allows herself to be sidelined by feelings and friends. What have I told you?”

“There is no such thing. Only allies and enemies, yeah, got it.”

“Do you?”

Another cut across the top of her leg. Alia growls but does not scream. Not anymore. She had screamed a lot in the beginning. She did not expect the training the Sith women spoke of to involve such levels of torture. There is a fair amount of pain she can withstand, usually involving pleasure, but this was different. This was real.

“I have no friends,” she spits out. “They made that perfectly clear.”

“You had one.”

“Roman wasn’t a friend, he was strategic collateral that I was…unable to collect.”

“Now he is gone and you are alone.”

“I’m good with that.”

Adubell’s laugh is like a shard of ice run across Alia’s spine. She knows the girl has strength and fortitude but she is still weak. The Chiss have an advantage in emotional detachment. That is not to say they do not feel, they are just more tactful with it than most. Her grief over Roman’s loss, rage at his family for what they had done, and spitefulness at Gemma and the Jedi’s attempts to control her played right into her plans. She had finally found a worthy apprentice, one that would force Dahlia’s hand into becoming what she was meant to be.

“Good enough to do what D’Cera could not?”

“Try me.”

“Fool,” she hisses, unseen in the blackness that surrounds her. “You are not yet ready. D’Cera pledged her allegiance to the Sith and me as her Master and failed.”

“She’s a princess.”

“A princess who delivered the Republic into the Empire’s hands. Not an easy feat. That takes cunning but she lacks your ruthlessness, something the Jedi tried to contain.”

“Try being the operative word.”

The glow appears and so does another cut, “You are weak.”

Alia grinds her teeth and wills herself to her feet. Her nude body, toned and blue-hued, is covered in dozens of equally sized wounds. Anticipation had given way to fear and despair which now transforms into a guttural rage.

“Enough! If it is fealty you want, you have it. Show me your ways and you shall have vengeance against them all!"

The saber’s glow illuminates her but there is no attack. Adubell’s taunt grey face appears behind it. Alia does not flinch, even as the blade hums loudly beside her. It had taken months but she had broken her. She would not ask for her allegiance. It is not a question but a conclusion she had come to in her own time.

“You pledge yourself to me.”

“Yes.”

“And the Sith.”

Alia’s eyes reflect the intensity of the blade, “And the Sith.”






-TBC

[Syren]

Uviuy Exen

Orbit: Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet

The plan is proposed to the others who have gathered in the salon pod.

Murmuring among the crew signals ambivalence, uncertainty or both. No one knows where to go next but they are in agreement about not being able to remain where they are. The Republic-Imperial truce leaves much of the known galaxy inaccessible to them. The more remote worlds in the Outer Rim or on the fringe of Wild Space may pose dangers if someone blew their cover or decided to cash in on anti-Jedi sentiment. Even Lur, their frozen fortress of safety, was too close to the Corporate Sector for a Jedi sanctuary. Everywhere seemed like a trap. The Unknown Regions are proposed as an alternative but it is not long before the whispers of superstition creep into their banter. 

The mythos surrounding the Unknown Regions have impacted each of them differently. Sirona, the Twi’lek and Shendo, a Nagai both seem particularly distressed by the prospect. Although Shendo is part of an extragalactic species, they learned previously that he had not been back to the Firefist galaxy since he was taken from Nagi as a child. Conversely, Oz, the Irodonian, is all for it come what may. Riley is thrilled with the prospect of an adventure and Gemma knows that with the anti-Jedi sentiment spreading across the galaxy they are running out of options. Demaris is wigged but Taarek is open-minded. Only the young Miralukan and presumed-dead Chiss refrain from the lively discussion.

The issue of navigation understandably arises as entry to the UR involves passing through The Tangle. Stories of explorers being driven insane or never returning are not uncommon in any of their homeworlds. Sirona knew Twi’lek that had been abducted by slavers on Ryloth then taken into the Unknown Regions never to be heard from again. Gemma and Demaris admit the tales made it out to the Corporate Sector, things their friends heard from their parents who heard it from clients traveling in from all over the galaxy. They made for perfect stories around a fire out on Viperii Lake; monsters, black holes, and madness lurking amongst the stars. It doesn’t seem quite as impressive now that they’ve seen monsters for themselves. Still, there is no discounting the dangers. It’s unmapped territory.

“Not for the navigator.”

It is Lysette’s small voice that draws their attention.

“Ly, the droids can only pull from available stellar geography. There isn’t enough for them to go on to ensure our safety.”

“Not them,” the Miralukan says, raising her arm to point across the table at Roman. “Him.”

Although he had accompanied Gemma to the meeting, Roman had said nothing thus far. He had been tight-lipped since his rescue and, considering what he went through, everyone was happy to give him space. They turn to him now as they realize he is the only one of them to have been beyond recently. Csilla, the Chiss Ascendancy homeworld, lies in the Unknown Regions. His last trip had been a little over a year ago. His father’s plan involved him returning with Alia after graduation but things are different now. Preston is dead and Alia is gone.

Gemma glances over, “Roman, is that true? Can you get us through?”

“Not from the end of Hydian Way, where captain Cirque suggested we go. We need to connect to the Perlemian and ride to its end in the Deep Core.”

Demaris gazes at him quizzically, “Doesn’t it end at Coruscant…where we just were?”

Roman shakes his head, “It extends beyond that. The actual and lesser-traveled end is at N’Zoth.”

She gasps, “The Yevetha will slaughter us all.”

“Fair point,” Taarek interjects evenly. “But let’s hear him out.”

Roman stands and moves in front of the hologram pad, keying up a galactic display. A few simple strokes on the controls and the N’Zoth system swirls over the pad.

 “Their third moon, Pa’red, is where we exit and recalculate to get us through the Tangle.”

“Say that is true,” Shendo says lowly, the hypnotic nature of his voice easing some of the tension. “You can get us there. This is a consular ship. Even with our sliced diplomatic credentials, it may not be recognized on the other side. Our stolen status won’t provide the cover if they are with us.”

Attention shifts to Gemma and Riley.

“Hey! Where the hell else are we supposed to go?”

“Two members of the fabled Four presents a liability.”

Gemma apprises him carefully, “I disagree. It may be the only place that doesn’t know about any of us.”

“She’s right,” Demaris says. “As much as I hate to admit it because the thought of what could be out there is terrifying, she’s right. Anything in the Unknown Regions enjoys the luxury of not having to deal with our drama. We can just disappear.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Sirona quips.

“We’ve got two years’ worth of supplies but minimal firepower with the exception of the cruiser armament and a handful of lightsabers.”

Roman taps off the display, “What if I told you I knew of a secret cache.”

“A cache of what?”

“Weapons manufactured by Palace Arms.”

All eyes are on intently on him now. 

“My father is always prepared. The cache is hidden just outside the Ascendancy’s reach but close enough to defend their borders or provide cover to escape. Defense and contingency are why the Chiss have endured. I was angling to get my hands on it when I ran into transport trouble on Kijimi. Luckily, help was already on the way.”

Demaris grins, glad to have been able to help. The other Jedi are more wary of him. He had foisted Alia on them only for her to walk right into the belly of the beast. Gemma tried to contextualize this for them to show he had done so out of love but they are wary of her as well. They had had time to lower their walls around Taarek and Demaris. Not so with Lady Masterton who always seemed embroiled within the public eye. Gemma and by extension Riley pose an ever-present and intangible danger. Demaris, who would normally vehemently disagree, knows Gemma had used elements of Sith magics to release the souls trapped within the Bolerathon Tower. She had questioned their devotion before but this was crossing a line.

At least one of them truly believes in this course of action.

“We found you so that you could take us there,” Lysette says. “It is the will of the Force.”

Gemma is not sure she accepts that and refrains from asking Roman what he planned to do with those weapons if and when he got them. She doesn’t have to. She can feel it. He would take his revenge. Even though she does not condone that course of action, Gemma will not pass judgment. If someone took Riley from her, she wonders if she’d be able to suppress those dark impulses. The impulses the Inquisitor commanded she embrace. 

Taarek breaks the spell, “Do we have a consensus?”

Everyone gives the somewhat reluctant affirmative. The Unknown Regions it is.

In the cockpit, Demaris straps in next to Gemma. They share a look but it is drawn away by Roman as he hops into the chair next to Taarek. They confirm the coordinates and prepare the ship for the jump to lightspeed. With a steady hand, Taarek eases the cruiser away from Uviuy Exen’s vibrant purple glow. He nods to Roman, pulling back on the controls, as the cruiser leaps toward the edge of the Deep Core.







-TBC

[Syren]

N’Zoth 

The Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet flares out of hyperspace above the moon Pa’red.

Roman is already quick at work replotting a course through The Tangle. His father had done this on every journey, risking Yevethan detection to find the safest route home. Strange things happen beyond the known regions. Things that may terrify his human companions. 

He glances back at the others, “It is best for all of you to remain in your cabins, away from any viewports, during this portion of the trip.”

Demaris is understandably wary, “Why is that?”

“Have you heard of Hyperrapture?”

“Only as a scare tactic,” Gemma says. “Is that…something we should be concerned with?”

Roman nods, “The stories are true. Those who haven’t gone beyond are subject to the psychosis. Hyperspace travel is not fully understood although the convenience prevents most from exploring that line of thought. You are essentially traveling across a different plane of existence that can be much different going through the Tangle.”

“How so?” Taarek asks. 

“There are things that appear within the white and blue tunnel. Esoteric and existential things that can be profound to some and nightmarish to others. Not everyone is ready to face what it means to look into that void. There are mythological and supernatural aspects to the galaxy that are seldom spoken of because it does not fit neatly into a politically structured, consumerist narrative. I have experienced this journey many times and will see us through.”

He reaches out to tap on a small holoprojector that displays the Chiss Ascendancy territory and focuses on a fringe planet. 

“Yashuvhu is on our eastern border. It had been colonized by humans that crash-landed there at some point. The hyperspace disturbance cut them off from the rest of the galaxy but the last I heard the Chiss had wiped them out.”

“The Chiss occupy the world now?”

“No,” Roman says. “It is much too warm for them to reside there permanently. However, it is choked in dense jungles and treacherous mountain ranges which makes it the perfect hiding spot. The cache is in a bunker hidden in the base of the Yashaka Mountains. Remember, contingencies are second nature to the Chiss.”

“Then won’t your father be ready for someone to plunder it? Surely there is some sort of security.”

“I’m the only other person who knows about it,” he says evenly. “And I’m dead. He’s not expecting to be robbed by a ghost. Alia and I were the sole heirs of our ruling families and the vacuum left behind by our absences are sure to have ignited a power-struggle not seen in a generation. Combined with being driven from the Corporate Sector and the fate of Palace Arms uncertain, he’s likely far too busy to be thinking about anything other than his survival.” 

An alarm slices through the moment of exposition. 

Taarek checks the scanner, “Aramadia-class thrustship entering Pa’red’s orbit.”

“Go,” Roman says, easing the cruiser away from the moon. “I’ll let you know when we’re set to arrive at our destination.”

Taarek pats him on the shoulder and follows Demaris through the door. 

Gemma leans down and kisses him lightly on the cheek.
 
“Thank you, Ro.”

He gives them ample time to return to their cabins and, with the Yevethan warship gaining, makes the jump to lightspeed. The grid of stars is pulled into a brilliant white blur as they leap into the unknown. They are taking a considerable risk – harboring and accompanying him – but he is grateful. It had been a long road to get here, one that saw him confront the man he thought he was. 

Months ago, emotionally destroyed by the loss of his lover Preston and the cruelty of his parents for their part in it, Roman forced a confrontation on Etti IV. It did not go well and ended as he leaped from the tower in anguish and protest – appearing to die. In reality, he was thrown onto a balcony several stories below where he lay, injured, for two days. His foot had slipped on the railing and he never quite got the distance from the tower needed to end his life in a jump. Those two days were illuminating and he reflected on everything that got him there in the first place. 

He was a Chiss raised among humanoids in the Corporate Sector and subsequently viewed as an outsider by both. If it wasn’t for his friendship with Dane and Gemma as well as his burgeoning relationship with Preston, Roman isn’t sure he would have survived. It was hatred, pure and simple, that propelled him to live while the lives of his parents unraveled several stories above him. With the owners likely at their summer house on D’ian, he broke into the residence with just enough time to catch up on news of his “death.” Better still, other members of the Direx Board turned on his father. Justice for Preston was exacted as his parents retreated back to Csilla. 

He disguised himself with clothing found within the residence, a full body suit and satchel with a helmet from the collection displayed in the office. The mask was black with a raised silver ridge that ran across the eyes and down the front, reminiscent of one a stoic but formidable bounty hunter would wear. He yearned for the opportunity to be anything other than who he was and this was his chance. He set fire to the residence to cover his tracks and disappeared into the city. Using Authority Cash Vouchers pillaged from the residence, Roman stopped by an exchange outside the Mondder spaceport and collected the currency on a datacard. It was enough to buy his way out of the CSA on a ship with a group of questionable individuals who he later came to discover were members of the Spice Runners smuggling gang. He had to improvise, calling himself Avinarius. Thankfully, no one was interested in the story of his life. They returned to Kijimi where Roman was pleased to discover the world both frigid and remote. 

That was about the time his luck ran out. 

The little currency he had left wasn’t going to get him into the Unknown Regions so the Spice Runners employed him on small and seemingly innocuous missions for them. He intended to save up what he earned to buy his way out but the smugglers had other plans. His inventive hiding places for their cargo, especially in plain sight, was seen as an asset they could not allow to leave. Roman hatched a plan to skim some of their spice and sell it in order buy his way off-world. Before he could make what would surely have been a mistake, a blind girl walked in and changed his life. 

On a particularly stormy night, he took refuge with a few fellow smugglers in a dark tavern deep in the Thieves Quarter. While his cohorts drank and whored the night away, he kept to the corners when a girl seemed to appear out of nowhere. She could not have been more than twelve, wearing a tan hooded robe with a blindfold stretched across her eyes. No one seemed to even notice her. She called herself Lysette, extending a hand and asking that he come with her. 

Even now, he doesn’t know why he went. Something about her presence dampened the constant tightness of loss in his chest. The ache had been an ever-present and driving force. He had done things he wasn’t proud of – smuggling spice, a grief-fueled tryst with a humanoid stranger, considering theft and betrayal for-profit, lying to everyone about who he was – that he was a shadow of his former self. Off the rails and unsupervised for the first time in his life. The girl presented a moment of peace. She led him back through the Quarter to a shuttle on the cliffs containing the Jedi Demaris Atrii and Taarek Cirque. 

In hiding with the Jedi, he silently watched Dane and Gemma’s adventures on Hesperidium turn from juicy hologossip into a nightmare that killed several thousand people. The girl knew about that too and they moved to intercept. They were too late, for Ples and Trichelle at least. Princess Dahlia, it seemed, went down with the Bolerathon Tower. He had been careful to avoid the Winton in the past, even before he knew who she really was. Dahlia had a glint in her emerald eyes that always seem to imply she knew everyone’s secrets. All that mattered was that Dane and Gemma were safe and they were now hurtling into the Unknown Regions. 

His thoughts drift to Preston, to Alia. Roman failed both of them. Justice may have been exacted…but not vengeance. 

That he would take himself.
 






-TBC

[Syren]

Unknown Regions

The Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet appears suddenly in orbit above Yashuvhu.

Roman quickly scans the system but finds it devoid of any lurking Chiss. Although it lay on the border of their territory, the warm, humid climate made it an unattractive location. Most of them avoided it altogether which puts the odds of evading detection in their favor – for now. It had been a bumpy ride, staring into the ethereal void of hyperspace alone, offering a catharsis of sorts. He wonders if it would be his last and reaches up to store their route in the cruiser’s computers. Easing down into the atmosphere, Roman guides the ship low over the jungle canopy and approaches the Yashaka mountains. The range runs across the center of the planet surrounded by dense jungles that tapper off into scattered forests closer to the poles. The bunker lies in a particularly scenic valley of the Yashaka in the southern hemisphere which grows closer on the scope.

The door hisses open and Taarek joins him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You got us through, man. We are grateful. Thank you.”

“It is muscle memory by now,” he says, staring firmly through the viewport. “We should arrive within minutes if you would like to alert the others. I am certain they are anxious to stretch their legs.”

Taarek nods but pauses at the door, “You never explained the bunker's defenses. What kind of security are we talking about?”

“Motion detection, laser cannons, nothing we cannot handle.”

“Can you disable it?”

“If the Jedi gets me close enough.”

“What about the sensors? Will they alert your father?”

Roman attempts a grim smile at the thought, “The native duuvhals set it off from time to time which is what he will think when it is tripped. Anything that is taken out or scared off by the weapons reset the system without further activity from the sensors. However, in order to access the bunker, we will be within range for much too long. Once we trip it, I will have roughly two minutes to reach the control panel and reset it.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Then we are, how do you humans say, fucked?”

Taarek smirks, “Copy that.”

Roman pulls the cruiser around and sets it down in a meadow of deep yellow short-grass beside a lake still as glass. They are two kilometers out from the bunker but better a safe distance than sorry. They will need to strategize. The crew gathers in the entrance forum, having salvaged what they could in terms of gear. The wardrobe provided by the Lurian’s gave them little in the way of options but they make due. There are a few jumpsuits that work. Roman joins them, retrieving his mask and suit to conceal all visible markers of his Chiss identity. He would be playing the role of Avinarius, the mysterious drifter turned spice runner created in the aftermath of Preston’s death.

Gemma pulls her long curls into a high pony, looking understated and vaguely militant in black but definitely still a Masterton. She unknowingly misspoke when she said no one knew them out here. The Chiss may be isolated but they know those four names. It seems everyone does. You do not threaten most of the known galaxy with impending doom and not gain some street cred. There would be value in her capture and it would be best for everyone if she is not identified.

Lysette meditates peacefully in the center of the room, intending to remain behind. She raises her head as he passes.

“The mountain contains more than weapons, navigator. I hope you realize that.”

Roman swallows and slips the mask over his head.

Taarek hits the ramp controls as they are instantly met with a blast of humidity. Roman is warm but not uncomfortable, a fortunate perk of being raised in the temperate Corporate Sector. The others look pleased and step out into the grassy plains. There is no describing the view as the gravity and beauty of untouched nature humbles them into silence. Roman calls out, breaking the spell, and gathers them to outline the obstacles ahead. He explains defenses and timetable – it would be tight but with the Jedi’s prowess, he is confident they will succeed. As someone who can both fight and fly, Sirona volunteers to stay behind with Lysette. The others set off toward the mountains with Roman taking the lead but he is unable to get the Miralukan’s words out of his head.

The group naturally fans out to take full advantage of the gorgeous open space. For the first time in a long time, they actually feel free. There is no galactic threat from them simply being who they are. Demaris trails Gemma and uses the opportunity to explore something that has been bugging her since they retrieved them from Hesperidium.

“So, Riley’s father. That must have been weird. What’s he like?”

“Dead,” Gemma says softly. “It was horrifying and sad. I did what I could.”

“And what did you do exactly?”

“Set them free. Why?”

“Just curious. How?”

Gemma slows to match Demaris’ pace, “Through an incantation that dissolved their incorporeal bond to the tower. I could not let them suffer there any longer but from your borderline accusatory tone I take it you do not agree.”

“I’m not arguing the merits,” she says, trying to pull back on sounding judgmental. “It’s the methods that worry me. May I ask where you found the incantation?”

“If you must know it was carved beneath the ruins of an estate on Naboo Nevylinn and I explored years ago.”

It is intentionally vague but Demaris is not fooled.

“Master Nevylinn. Who’s estate?”

“The Winton’s.”

There it is, the something that has felt off about the whole thing.

“You used an incantation you found beneath the ruins of a notorious and powerful family tied to the Sith?”

“It sounds much more ominous when you say it like that. This was a good thing, Demaris. Those poor souls were in anguish and I could not leave them like that.”

Her stick-straight purple hair is caught in the breeze, blowing strands across an increasingly concerned expression. 

“Look, Gemma. I have sensed something in you for a while now. Confliction and doubt have never been far from your heart. I know the Inquisitor tried to mess with you and you clearly have strong feelings about what it means to be a Jedi but this seems…reckless. That’s not normally like you.”

“You say reckless, I say inventive. We are just trying to survive. I appreciate the sentiment but not everything has to mean something.”

“Says the one alarmingly close to a prophecy who brought us the loop theory.”

“It was speculation,” she counters. “One that proved incorrect with Dahlia’s death.”

Demaris treads carefully, “Yes, she died. So did two of your friends and many others. That’s a lot, Gem. For anyone. I’m not sure you’ve taken the time to really confront that.”

“I know where you are going with this and it is not a repressed reaction from the death of my parents.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that this is a dangerous time for us. For all the Jedi. I don’t want to see you fall.”

Gemma stops so suddenly that Demaris crashes into her. She takes a few steps back but does not need the Force to know she’s crossed a line. It’s not like she was even that diplomatic about it. Gemma had expressed on more than one occasion her displeasure with how the Jedi operate, questioning their motives and disrespecting their Master’s on multiple fronts. The ill-conceived intergalactic pop star persona was just one in a long string of spites seemingly meant to troll the Jedi. What Demaris can’t understand is why she is doing this. She has to know a potentially Sith-related incantation was, at the very least, risky. At most, it could have caused a fracture within her already damaged psyche. Alia was too far gone but Gemma is not and she does not want to lose a friend.

“What if there is no falling? What if falling is something the Jedi made up to keep others from seeing the whole picture?”

“Is that what you want? To see the whole picture?”

“As a matter of fact – yes. This is not about light or dark, it is about balance. Both sides have played roles in the galaxy and the Jedi’s fanatical devotion to the light has not done us any favors.”

“You are seriously advocating for embracing the darkness?”

“At the very least acknowledging its existence and importance in our journey. You cannot have one without the other. In case you have not noticed, Demaris, we are on our own out here. We have been for a while. No one is coming to save us. Not Nevylinn, not the Republic, no one. These weapons will give us a fighting chance.”

“These weapons are for defense,” she cautions.

“I never said otherwise.”

Ahead of the group, Roman pauses, raising an arm to bring everyone to a halt. They have reached the base of the mountain. He withdraws his blaster. Taarek and Riley do the same. Oz, Shendo, Demaris, and Gemma ignite their sabers, listening to the collective hum as it crackles across the silence of a visually perfect scene. Oz and Gemma move into position next to Roman, ready to accompany him on the sprint to the control panel. Demaris, Shendo, Riley, and Taarek would provide coverage and monitor for any unforeseen challenges along the uneven terrain. Tension ripples through him but Roman pushes it away and sprints forward.

The mountain erupts in blaster fire.





-TBC

[Syren]

“Talk to me
There's nothing that can't be fixed with some honesty
And how it got this dark is just beyond to me
If anyone can hear me switch the lights"

-Troye Sivan

Yashuvhu
 
Surface

The spray of blaster fire is intense with timing that indicates it was set to quickly vaporize anything that came within the proximity sensors. It takes the full concerted efforts of the Jedi to repel it, fanning out to draw the blasts away from Roman and company traversing the rocky slope toward the panel. Without sabers, Taarek and Riley are pinned down.

This is taking too long, Roman thinks and, as if hearing those thoughts echo, Oz grabs his arm and Force leaps the remainder of the way. They land solidly and Roman scrambles toward the panel as Oz deflects another blast. He works diligently, acutely aware of the timer counting down that would send a signal to his father. A part of him is tempted to do it, to lure his father there only to rise from the dead and take his revenge. Then he remembers this is not about him. Not entirely anyway. He could not do that to Gemma, to the Jedi. They had rescued him and so he carefully sorts through the wires and circuits before him. Shendo deflects a round of blaster fire that crashes into the rocks beside Oz with a concussive force large enough to send him tumbling down the incline. Roman is exposed but he does not turn away.

Gemma slides in with her saber spinning to counter two blasts that would have ended him.

The waves of fire grow even more intense.

“Ro, hurry!”

He finds what he is looking for and resets the system. The unseen blasters cease firing and quiet returns to the base of the Yashaka mountains. The system is active but his tinkering bypassed the sensors so that it would not register movement. With a final splice, Roman activates the door controls. A large, rectangular slab of the mountain caves inward before sliding open. He stands and turns to face them as everyone converges around the opening.

“Like I said.”

Taarek smirks, “Nothing we can’t handle.”

“Only three seconds to spare,” Riley says, tapping his chronometer. “But who’s counting?”

Demaris smiles, “Nice work everyone. Shendo, remember to be mindful of your surroundings. You could have controlled the direction of the blast, turning it to our advantage. Are you okay, Oz?”

“Yeah. It was stupid. I should have seen it coming.”

“We want to work with the setting, no matter where that may be, integrating it into our strategy. Everything around us can be an ally if we know how to use it.

They nod. Gemma feels the pang of guilt over their collective bond, one she clearly does not share. They look to Taarek and Demaris as leaders. Part of a team. Gemma and Riley are just interlopers to them – the fated pop star and boy billionaire. The sting fades when she realizes this is not really surprising. None of the Force-sensitive within The Four, past or present, followed a traditional path. Dark or light, they made their own way. She feels destined to do the same.

Roman leads the way inside, activating perimeter lights that reveal a vault containing an impressive array of weapons and vast amounts of various currency. They could arm and fund their own legion if they so choose. It seems Balthazar Nash had amassed an inventory to guarantee favorable outcomes in many situations. While the others spread out to look around, Roman moves purposefully through the crates and into an adjoining alcove. He taps something into a small keypad that unlocks another chamber. There is only one item that is carefully displayed on a rectangular pillar. Shendo follows him in with the others trailing behind.

“What is that?”

Roman runs a hand across the smooth, obsidian surface, “An axial superlaser.”

“That’s…a planet-killing class of weapon,” Demaris says slowly, the intended sternness in her voice giving way to quiet horror.

“Ch’at basca ch’un’bi,” Roman says coldly, his Cheunh crisp and effective. “Destroyer of worlds. It was a special project my father had Palace Arms construct in secret. He could never have any one side gain too large an advantage. Bad for business. Wonder if he will see the – what do humans call it, irony? – in it all.”

The attempt at morbid humor is not as convincing as he'd like it to be. Gemma moves further into the chamber and stands directly across the weapon from Roman. She has known him a very long time and the confident yet oft-conflicted Chiss is not a fan of subtly. So, there is no point in asking.

“This is what you really came for.” 

“Yes.”

“You would kill more than just your father with that.”

“I know.”

He does not remove his hand from the laser casing, brilliant red eyes glassing over as his face tightens. Roman is so consumed with grief and rage that the weapon’s power provides the perfect symbol. Destruction to fill the emptiness inside him that he has carried since he watched his lover explode in front of the Gellar Estate. He was merely means to his family's end, eliminated so carelessly as if swatting away vermin. Preston was anything but. He was precious, beloved, and they snuffed out his spark to maintain the status quo. Even though Alia had no intention of marrying him, his father needed that legacy to endure. He would have done anything to preserve their power. Now Roman would go to the same lengths to make him pay.

“That would be genocide, Roman. Charging at Csilla, even with this massive artillery, would be suicide. I know you loved him. I know you miss him but you are not the only one who lost him. Dane, Alka, me – we loved him too and sacrificing yourself to avenge him would hurt so many others. That is not what Preston would have wanted.”

Logically, she is right. He knows that. The feelings he had been conditioned to bury by the Chiss, the ones Preston had found and nurtured, threaten to swallow him whole. He chokes on the loss and sinks slowly to the ground. Nothing he does will bring him back, even the spectacular destruction of his species. Gemma rounds the pillar, kneeling beside him. Her hand finds him and, screaming behind his mask, Roman releases everything that had driven him to the brink of madness. The Jedi surround him, instilling their healing peace, calm, and support. They may have the worlds against them but they could be there for each other.

Riley hangs back, eyeing the weapon carefully. Veritaas once confided in him that the situation could be dire if Senator Soldys was not able to stabilize the situation on Chandaar. Terrifying as it may be, the potential applications for Corellian defense against the growing Republic threat are not lost on him. The laser gives Corellia and Soldys leveraging power.

He doubts they will see it the same way but decides they are not leaving this place without it.





-TBC

[Syren]

“You’ll never understand it if you don’t try
‘Cause you’re so far away from what you might find.”

-Sad Money, Kaskade, & Sabrina Claudio


Yashuvhu

Surface

Sunlight pulls back from the base of the mountain. Dusk is fast approaching. Once the defense system was disarmed, they contacted Sirona and she piloted the Capulet closer to their location. They spent the remainder of the day ferrying crates of weapons and currency, leaving only the super laser to create further tension in the widening ideological conflict between Gemma and Demaris. 

Taarek stands at the mouth of the cave with a masked Roman, “Well?”

“I say we destroy it,” Demaris says. “No one should have that kind of power.” 

Riley shakes his head, “I disagree. The weapons we have will be no match for the Republic fleets.”

“Corellia has a formidable fleet of its own, certainly enough to stand its ground if the Republic goes too far.”

“If?” Gemma laughs incredulously. “Demaris, they have all but declared war on any Force-sensitive being. They would imprison or kill anyone of us they captured. Think of how many have perished. The Republic has already gone too far.”

“Implying what? That you condone avenging those lost by striking down an equal number of Republic citizens with that laser? You just talked Roman down from the consequences of similar actions against the Chiss. This hypocrisy is madness. The Jedi will not take such an offensive stance.”

“Perhaps that is why they always lose,” Gemma says curtly. “I was taught the same history so do not lecture me on a principle that has defined the order’s demise. There is one lesson that the Jedi never seem to learn; you cannot have the high ground without anything to stand on. For centuries others have chipped away at their beliefs and now they are grasping at straws. The Republic will wipe out anyone with a connection to the Force if given the chance. We need to be prepared.”

“You sound as if you want to go to war.”

“And you speak like it is not inevitably at this point. Best we be prepared, unlike the Jedi on Chandaar. Corellia has been playing a dangerous game with the Republic and it is only a matter of time before Circe, your brother, or one of the other Jedi are discovered. These weapons are for defense, remember? I say we defend ourselves.”

Demaris glances at Taarek, “Do you agree?”

“I respect what the Jedi represents and the good they have done for the galaxy. However, Gemma is not wrong. My father fought for the Jedi Masterton but they underestimated the forces against them and it cost them their lives. So, yes, I agree the weapon will provide considerably more leverage in the threat against you if it comes to that.”

“Roman?”

“If it gives you a measure of safety then you may have it but we are not leaving it. Either it comes with us or you destroy it. There is no way I would leave this behind for my father to use.”

“Fair point,” Riley says. “Demaris, this is a strategic defense not a personal attack on your beliefs.”

“It is beginning to feel that way. I respect the democracy of our team and so I acquiesce but dissent. I only hope this does not lead us to the same fate as the original Four.”

Demaris strides from the cave, leaving behind an air of awkward silence. No one really blames her…no one but Gemma. She possesses the same idealism that got Melanie killed, believing in principles that no longer apply to the reality of their environment. The Jedi have always been slow to adapt which is why the Sith and others have been able to thwart them at crucial moments in galactic history. Their detachment does not serve them the way they think it does. 

Riley nods to Taarek and Roman, “Let's load it up."

With lifting help from the collective Jedi powers, they leave the mountain behind them, an empty stash that Baltazar Nash could never again be able to use in his nefarious plots. Roman sits with Lysette and allows the vindication to wash over him. She can feel his anger simmer and works to draw these negative emotions from him completely, giving him some measure of peace. He was letting it all go but he could not stop seeing Preston’s face in his mind. Revenge had driven him to the brink and he is grateful others were there to pull him back. 

Taarek meets them in the entrance forum of the cruiser. They could not stay here without further risking detection but they would not know if it was safe to return to Corellia until they made contact. Everyone turns to Roman, the resident navigator of the Unknown Regions. 

“I know a place.”







TBC

[Syren]

*Well be still my barely beating black little heart - welcome back, Med! I was hoping you'd pick up that segue. 

“Press play
I’ve got the energy saved.”

-Jessica Winter

Rakata Prime

The Consular-Class Cruiser Capulet flares out of hyperspace into an orbital mess. 

Alarms blare through the cockpit almost immediately. The cruiser shudders as it wades through what appears to be remnants of a fierce battle, sections of starships, and debris clouding the space above the glittering tropical world. Taarek raises the deflector shields as Demaris and Gemma fall into seats, fumbling to strap themselves in. Roman is a nimble pilot and evades the larger spiraling chunks of wreckage as he eases them toward the surface. 

“What the hell happened here?”

Roman keeps his focus on navigating, “A brutal civil war that ended with the destruction of their orbital shipyard and decimation of their species. Few, if any, remain but the Rakatan’s are known to be vicious savages with a connection to the Force. Although it was once a beautiful world, it is now ravaged and dangerous.” 

“Wonderful,” Demaris says wearily. “Why bring us here?”

“You need to establish contact but the bramble makes this impossible. Rakata is one of the only planets where communication between the Unknown Regions and the main galactic disc is possible. It is also the easiest way back in and most direct route to Corellia if that is where we are headed next.”

"A little trust for our friend here. He has not steered us wrong yet."

“It could have been worse. When the station was operational, the planet was protected by a disruptor field that disabled communications and navigation systems. Most who stumbled onto this place never left.”

“That is…horrifying. How do you know about it? It does not seem like the kind of place that would interest the Chiss.”

“Correct,” Roman says. “It is far too warm but it is the accessibility, even unlikely or accidental, that makes Rakata an undesirable target for the Ascendancy. Also, the Rakatan’s made formidable enemies with their technology and taste for blood. It was, how do you humans say, a “thing?” 

Gemma stifles a laugh. Taarek grins. Demaris is less amused. 

“A thing? A civil war that led to this kind of destruction is more than just a thing. I hope you know what you are doing.”

“About as much as any of you do,” Roman counters flatly. 

Once they are clear of the suspended horrors of battle, Taarek assesses the ship’s status. 

“Looks good overall but minor damage to the navigational sensor dish from our entry point. Unfortunately, I did not get the shields up quick enough.”

Gemma shakes her head, “Nonsense, you did well. You too, Ro. We would not have made it this far without you.”

Roman takes them in, trailing across waters littered with fighters and cruisers. Even bits of the station remains lodged in the shallower waters. He sets them down on a suitable-looking island with enough space and coverage to keep their presence as inconspicuous as possible. 

“We should be able to salvage what we need from one of the downed ships.” 

Taarek nods, “Let’s scout the area and identify the best options before we assemble a recovery team.”

They head back to find Riley sitting at the multi-comm station. He glances up as they approach, mouth tight, and pulled to the left. 

“Any luck?”

“I can get through but Director Veritaas is not responding.”

Demaris offers an encouraging smile, “Keep trying. I am sure you will make contact soon.”

The sentiment is sincere but comes off forced, underscoring the tensions among them. The axial superlaser is awkwardly stashed in the droid hold and makes for a heavy reminder even out of sight. The crew gathers in the entrance forum, armed with lightsabers and an assortment of pillaged weapons from their heist. After conferring with Demaris, Taarek explains the situation and breaks out their objectives; repairing the ship, establishing communication with Corellia, and using this time to reflect and train. He urges everyone to keep their guard up. Despite the beachy vibes, this was not a friendly place. 

“Be careful,” Lysette says softly from the doorway to the lounge. “There is a darkness here.” 

Demaris and Gemma make eye contact before Oz leads the charge down the ramp with Sirona and Shendo following closely behind. The humidity hits them like a heavy blanket. There are the remains of three crashed fighters, staggered along the shore of the half-moon bay with parts that litter the white sands. They appear to have been a part of the landscape for some time. In the distance, a much larger island is visible with a structure on the top of a hill that blurs into heat waves beneath the sun. The group gathers near the water, taking in their surroundings. There is a strange beauty to Rakata, like new flesh forming over old scars. Surely nature has reclaimed and healed the wounds inflicted upon it in the time that has passed. 

That is when they hear it, a rumble in the jungle behind them. Everyone turns and the group fans out with hands on their weapons. The distant canopy begins to sway followed by a muffled grunt. A few excruciating moments drag by before the most horrific roar any of them have ever heard reverberates through the jungle and slices through the moist, tropical air. 






-TBC

[Syren]

“The choices you're gonna make
Are you sure this is what you want?
I pull up from the hands that you've gotta shake
Remember faces that make or break.”

-KREAM & ImanoS

Rakata Prime

Surface

Riley Patten fiddles with the com controls, frustrated at his inability to reach Director Veritaas on Corellia. Roman swore communications could make it through the bramble from here. It would be a wasted trip if that were not the case. The axial superlaser could be a game-changer for them in their fight against the Republic’s growing tyranny. He hopes arming them quickly would send a strong message, one that may bolster support for Senator Soldys in the Senate. 

No one was going to push Corellia around. 

His thoughts turn to Gemma. They had celebrated her birthday privately on their journey into the Unknown Regions as she did not want to make a big deal about it. The others were already wary of her as it was. Although she was disheartened at not being able to spend it with Dane, Riley made sure she knew how special it was. The guardianship may be nullified but it no longer mattered. Dahlia is dead and, as far as the rest of the galaxy knows, Gemma is too. It is a strange place to be. She and Roman have bonded over their similar circumstances – alive but thought dead – and Riley is grateful for the support. At least Dane knows the truth about her survival and is not suffering needlessly.
Drawing in a breath, he takes another route and tries to connect to the People’s Council. Thankfully, he manages to get connected to Circe. 

“Octavia,” he says, using her assumed identity. “It’s Riley.”

“Oh, Riley! It is so good to hear your voice. Are you okay? Please tell me you are somewhere safe.”

“I am but I have been unable to reach the Director. Have you seen him?”

There is a shift in her voice that sends a shiver down his spine. 

“I am afraid there has been an attack and the Director was injured. He is recovering but it was close.”

“An attack? What happened?”

“I do not know the details as Della said they are still investigating. Unfortunately, doctor Cross is missing and presumed dead.”

“Doctor Cross? I…was not aware she was back.”

“A sudden reappearance it seems.”

“Is there a correlation?”

“Perhaps," she laughs. "You are always thinking like a CorSec agent. Veritaas would be proud.”

“I learned from the best. Can you get word to Agent Theon? I will be heading back soon.” 

“Of course, I will let him know. The Director too, once he wakes. I am sure he will be thrilled with the news. He has been so worried about you. We all have.”

“I am alright, just needed some time.”

“Of course,” she says, reverting back to a more soothing tone. “There is no one way to grieve. I am so sorry about Gemma, Riley. We are here for you when you return.”

“I appreciate it. Thank you, Octavia.”

He taps off and sighs. Corellia is a part of him he feels like he abandoned. After the battle at Patten Ranch and aunt Mara’s extended absence, everything about it began to stifle him. Donovan’s training and meditation could only do a boy good for so long. He had to get out. Gemma’s invitation to prom was all the reason he needed but what started as a quick trip away has evolved into a dangerous adventure. 

“Riley. Raise the shields.”

Getting more dangerous by the microsecond, apparently. He hears her in his head, Lysette’s voice in a steady command.

“The shields, Riley. Raise them now.”

He darts from the com station and into the cockpit, bringing up the systems necessary to activate the shields. He arms their weapons for good measure. 

“Done. What’s wrong?”

“We are not alone here.”

Riley moves forward and peers through the viewport the moment what appears to be a rancor emerges from the jungle. The reptomammals roar is nothing short of terrifying. His eyes drift to the group on the beach, the Jedi with sabers out and the others blasting away. The rancor’s skin, from what he has read, is tough enough to withstand small arms fire so their weapons cache would do little in the way of defense. The Jedi dart off in different directions as Taarek and Roman fall back toward the ship. The rancor is confused by the moving targets but is no less of a formidable threat. The Jedi could do enough damage to stop it but that would require range close enough to be injured or killed. He slips into a seat and brings up weapons systems, swiveling the turbolaser cannons around to target the rancor. With a finger around the controls and target locked, Riley fires. 

The blasts, much more powerful than handheld lasers, impact the rancor’s abdomen, torso, and legs to bring the creature tumbling down into the sand. He rises to watch the Jedi make quick work of it and the rancor is defeated. Sighing, he brings the shields down and heads to the entrance forum where Lysette is meditating. The smile beneath her crimson hood is almost playful, contrasting her usually ominous demeanor. 

“Nice shooting, Corellian.” 

“Thanks for the heads up.” 

Riley makes his way down the ramp and onto the beach. The team is regrouping and he jogs up to meet Gemma. Everyone cheers when they see him, grateful for the turbolaser assist. He beams, feeling almost normal for a moment, a part of something when he remembers Circe’s words. His face falls but Demaris is quick to spot it. 

“What’s wrong? Did you make contact?”

“I did,” Riley says. “Let’s set up camp and I’ll tell you all about it.”






-TBC

[Syren]

“When the water seems too deep
The shadows always wait beneath
Laughing loud, we brave the role of black sheep.”

-Sneaker Pimps

Rakata Prime

Surface

After they build a fire on the beach and dispose of the rancor’s corpse using their combined Force powers, the group huddles around for storytime. Riley gives them the limited scoop on the attack against Director Veritaas and Doctor Cross’s return and apparent second disappearance. He does not have the details they want but it is enough to speculate given what they know. The other Jedi have heard bits and pieces but they weave the events together in a more cohesive narrative.

Gemma tells them about the shape-shifting monsters from her dreams that wound up embedded in their home in the Corporate Sector posing as Dahlia’s security, the battle of Patten Ranch on Corellia, and her outing as a Jedi at the concert on Chandaar. Demaris confirms the threat as they tried to kill her on Hesperidium which is how she wound up with the Jedi in the first place. Riley finishes the tale with knowledge of the Infiltrators, hybrid-droid-human replicas that were used to impersonate the Jedi and further damage their reputation within the Republic. The Director had captured one but in the ensuing chaos, Cross was taken from the medical labs at CorSec Academy. He tells them they searched for her but no trace was ever found. Everyone thought she was dead and her return and the attack seem too coordinated not to be related.

“She could be one of them,” Shendo offers. “One of those monsters or a replica.”

“They would have expected that and made sure it was her.”

Sirona frowns, “Then why was she returned? I am assuming she did not escape after all this time. She must have been sent back with some sort of purpose.”

“Taking out the Director would be strategic,” Oz says.

Demaris nods, “It does eliminate a barrier of protection for the Jedi on Corellia. The Senator only has so much to work with in the Senate. Veritaas has kept CorSec out of the F.U.R.A. fight. For now, at least.”

“He’s fine,” Riley says. “At least, he will be. Corellia will always remain true to its people, regardless of whether or not they are Force-sensitive.”

“Until the Republic says otherwise. They are, after all, a part of it and bound by the terms of membership.”

Taarek leans back in the sand, “Very true and as we have seen on Chandaar, this has spiraled way out of control. Who did this information come from?”

“A trusted source on the People’s Council, someone close to the Director.”

“So, what do we do?” Roman asks pointedly.

“You mean,” Lysette whispers across the crackling fire. “Do we hold or venture into the belly of the beast?”

“We stick to the plan. My contact is arranging for our return. We can enter on the fringes of the system and deliver our cargo which sounds like it will be just in time. If someone is looking to undermine Corellia’s position, they will need supplies. The Republic has closely monitored our every move and an uptick in weapons production is sure to spark suspicion.”

“Rightfully so,” Demaris counters. “You are arming Corellia against the government they belong to.”

The flames flicker across Taarek’s face, “That is not a fair assessment. It is a broken government on the brink of becoming a dictatorship at the hands of Speaker Leeds.”

“They want the Jedi exiled, captured, or dead. If Corellia has a chance at stopping their tyranny, I say we back them.”

“It could cause a greater conflict than I think you realize. Do you really want the galaxy engulfed in war?”

“I want a galaxy where we can be free to live as we so choose,” Gemma quips. “It has become clear the Republic no longer functions on the principles it was founded on with anyone who has a connection to the Force caught in the middle. If we do not fight for them no one else will.”

An uncomfortable silence falls over the group. Everyone is anxious and tired. It had been a long journey with contrasting philosophies surrounding what the Jedi is and is not exposing differences in their beliefs and perspectives. Demaris wants to keep them unified and focused on the teachings of the master’s who abandoned them. Gemma knows her heart is in the right place but there is a blindness to the reality of their situation. Peaceful meditation and practice will only do them so much good, especially if they are continually hunted. So long as they rested on their self-righteous laurels, they would never be safe.

As they slumber on the sand, a voice calls out.

“Gemma.”

She rouses and feels a presence nearby, reaching out to her. Gemma pulls on her robe and grabs her saber before heading into the darkness. Demaris opens her eyes and watches her disappear into the dense foliage. With her saber lighting the way, Gemma wades through the jungle. She sees a glow ahead and steps into a clearing where the spectral form of Melanie Masterton is waiting for her.

“Hello, sister.”

“Melanie. I honestly did not expect to see you again.”

“You are angry.”

“A lot has changed. People are dead. We are on the run. I am sorry if this is not the warm welcome you were expecting.”

“Nothing about this is what I expected but I come before you now because you are on a dangerous path.”

“You can save the speech,” Gemma says. “Demaris is all over it and frankly, I grow tired of hearing it. There is a lot of work to be done if we are to save the Republic from itself.”

Melanie’s milky features remain neutral as she apprises the more aggressive version of her half-sister.

“There is a darkness in you, I see that now. I suppose it was within me as well as it is in all of us. The potential for destruction. You have questions, no one can fault you for that, and I am certain you will have more once I have told you what I know.”

“If you have something to say, say it."

“Very well. Despite what happened to you on Hesperidium, Dahlia is not on the other side.”

“Not on the…wait...she lives?"

“Yes."

“How? How can that be?!”

“She is more talented than you think and she has a powerful ally in the Inquisitor.”

“They both survived. Wonderful.”

“With the help of the Etheralis.”

She tenses, recalling her vision where Riley's father, Mod Navris, called it by name.

“I have heard that before.”

“It lies at the heart of Coruscant and its dark power combined with the energy of The Four brought life where none existed.”

The concept is familiar to her as well, a reference to the prophecy which she believed was an entity but could represent anything granted life yet does not live.

“The Etheralis is tied to the Inquisitor, a source of power that is also a weakness which can be exploited.”

“It was already destroyed once. You want me to destroy Coruscant again?”

“Only as a last resort. Stripping the Inquisitor of the fragment of the Etheralis, however, would allow you to eliminate the greatest threat to the Jedi.”

“The Jedi,” Gemma sighs. “What a joke. Our supposed master’s gone, the order either dead or scattered to the most remote corners of the galaxy. There is nothing left.”

“It can be rebuilt if you are willing.”

“The galaxy believes me dead and I join a list of others including Dahlia and Roman."

Gemma inhales sharply, mind spiraling back to their conversations on the resort moon and aboard the Capulet.

“If they are both still alive then…”

“Five did die,” Melanie says solemnly. “And The Four survived.”

“The loop. We were right.”

“You are not the first and will not be the last. Not on your current path."

Gemma frowns, “What do you mean?”

“The prophecy, at least how we interpreted it, was designed to end with a Winton on the throne. We believed that stopping it would prevent the prophecy from ever coming to pass. We thought that would be the end of it. Unfortunately, that does not appear to be the case as you have discovered. We were neither the beginning nor the end. Stopping it, as I did, only created a new cycle, one that you, Dane, Riley, and Dahlia are now playing out.”

There is a slow, sickening realization that washes over Gemma.

“In order to end the prophecy, it must be fulfilled, and to fulfill it means we must die.”

Melanie lowers her gaze, “You must choose; defer or lose. There is no winning.”

“No. It is written that only one can survive but I wonder if that theory has ever been tested. Perhaps it was meant to force us into some kind of fabricated death-match. You fell for it when you killed Karen but Riley and Dahlia had already been born and our mother sent to the Corporate Sector where Dane and I soon followed. If there is no one left to restart the cycle, the prophecy would end with us.”

“What are you saying?”

"A third option," Gemma says, defiant. “To end the prophecy forever, no one can survive.”






-TBC

[Syren]

“When we walk the line
Do you change your mind?
I can see the sky is fallin.
When we’re out of touch
Do you close your eyes?
When you feel the night is callin.
Cuz we keep on goin backwards, backwards.”

-Eli & Fur

Rakata Prime

Surface

After a morning of meditation and practice, the crew decides to let loose and enjoy their tropical setting. The cove is a perfect place for a little splashing around. Gemma’s blonde curls bounce wildly as Riley chases her through the warm, crystal water. She dives beneath the surface, coming up in his arms. He kisses her deeply as they tread slowly above in the water. Sirona and Lysette find themselves in a water fight with Oz while Taarek leads Demaris into deeper waters. Shendo stands on the shore, apprehensively staring out over the water. Roman approaches him in full costume.

“You are not joining the others?”

“I find it all…rather pointless. To the cause, that is. We have work to do.”

Roman nods, “I understand but there is something to be said about taking a moment.”

“I do not see you frolicking around with them.”

“I do not wish to be seen outside the mask. Everyone believes me dead.”

Shendo smirks, motioning with his head out to where Gemma is floating with Riley.

“Everyone believes her dead as well. That does not seem to stop her. It is as if she no longer cares.”

“Humanoids sometimes need to do things just to do them. I struggled with it as well when I first came to the Corporate Sector. If it was not for Dane and Gemma, I do not think I would have survived there. Remember, I knew them long before they found out who they really were. So, it is not that she does not care, it is just that the weight of their legacy has…augmented her perspective. Her sister was a heroic Jedi Knight who helped avert an Imperial assault that would have destroyed the then-fledgling Republic. There were high expectations of all of us as CSA heirs but that kind of pressure is something else entirely. Billions of people they will never know pass judgment and project their opinions on them. I cannot even imagine.”

“Demaris seems to be handling it just fine.”

“They are not the same,” Roman says. “Demaris does not have that legacy to live up to. She wants to do what is right for the whole and believes preserving the Jedi Order will accomplish that. They were the defenders of the downtrodden once upon a time. Gemma sees flaws in their logic that has seen them doomed to repeat public scorn and mass purges. I can appreciate that reflection given what we know."

“Even if that path leads her right into the same darkness her predecessor fought to vanquish?”

“Much like you or any other being sensitive to the Force, that is choice only she can make.”

As the day wears on, Taarek gathers a small scout team to visit some of the wreckages for parts. Their navigational sensor dish needs some work before they will be able to safely venture back through the Tangle. He selects Sirona, Riley, and Oz to assist and they head out over the water in the skiff. Back at the Capulet, Gemma dusts sand off her leg then runs a hand over the hull as she passes beneath the ship. Demaris stands on an outcropping of rocks, watching the skiff recede into the distance.

“Do not worry,” Gemma says as she approaches. “They know what they are doing.”

“I am more worried about what happens when we leave this place.”

She navigates the flat rocks, leaping effortlessly between them, and lands next to her.

“What do you mean?”

Demaris’ straight purple hair is caught in the steady ocean breeze, “I shudder to think of what may await us if we return to Corellia. They have already risked so much for us. The CorSec Director has been mysteriously attacked and we are set to arrive with a dangerous superweapon that may escalate a growing conflict with the Republic and cost lives.”

“When it comes to galactic affairs, there is no such thing as a bloodless fight.”

“But if you could avoid it, why would you not?”

Gemma steps past her, shielding her eyes from the sun.

“Some conflicts cannot be avoided.”

“You believe this is one of them?”

“The Republic will never stop unless they are stopped. Whatever hopes of a diplomatic solution went out the window with the most recent enforcement push of the F.U.R.A. on all Republic worlds. They will not be satiated until we are all rounded up, monitored and tagged, or killed. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not! Stop making me sound like some kind of bright-eyed idealist. I know the path forward will be difficult but I do not believe it has to end with an epic clash between Corellia and the Republic. Too many lives have been lost there already or have you forgotten what happened to the original Four?”

She flips her hair, “How can I forget when I am constantly reminded by literally every single person I know?”

“That is not what I-“

“I know what you meant, Demaris. They all died there and you do not want a repeat performance but I have some bad news for you. It is either a sequel with a higher body count of this never ends, no matter how much you or anyone else wants it to.”

She flinches, “What?”

“Nothing, forget it. It does not matter in the end anyway.”

“I know the Jedi did not teach you such stark nihilism,” she quips evenly.

“The Jedi are over! Honestly, I do not know why you cling so desperately to their teachings when it has led to nothing but torment and pain. For Maker's sake, they let you believe your brother was dead. How can you still trust them after everything that has happened?"

Demaris stands firm, “Because I have hope and I will not stop believing in a better world even if you are too jaded to imagine one.”

“I believe in a better world too but hope is not enough to make it happen.”

“Is that so? Tell me then, where did you go last night? I saw you enter the jungle.”

“I went for a walk.”

“A walk? That is what you are going with? Gemma, we have been friends for far too long to play these kinds of games.”

“What game-“

“I saw you! You were talking to someone I could not see but I heard everything. Was it Melanie? Did she appear to you again? What did she tell you that would make you say those things? That Dahlia is alive?”

“You followed me?”

“I am worried about you!”

“Well, you do not have to be and yes, of course, she is alive. Her powers spared her at the cost of Ples, Trichelle, and a few thousand other lives."

“How is it possible for me not to worry when you think the only way through this is if no one survives? Is that what Melanie told you, what you truly believe, that our deaths will end the prophecy?”

“Not yours,” she screams. “Ours! Mine, Riley’s, Dane’s, and Dahlia’s.”

Demaris gasps, grabbing her hands protectively, “No, sweetie. No. You do not have to be the sacrifice to this madness in order to end it!”

“That is just it. We do! The prophecy may say only one can survive but if that one is not a Winton then it drags another generation into the cycle. Melanie and the others were not the first and we will not be the last even if we do manage to defeat Dahlia and the Empire again. If the line continues so does the prophecy! It is a sick game our lineage has been forced into playing and I feel like I am losing my mind knowing what I know but this is the only thing that will ensure any finality, the closure the galaxy needs to heal. The only real ending...is the end of us.”

She chokes on a sob, sinking down to her knees on the rock. The floodgates are open, everything she has been internalizing for years exposed. Demaris moves down with her, holding steadily onto her arms. It had been building for some time now. She thought all that context would give her an advantage only for it to be worse than fabulously fumbling through it blindly. Others may have manipulated circumstances in their favor but no one actually involved in the prophecy really rigged it. It was rigged long ago and the shadow of that fact, which has only grown darker the deeper they went, is a difficult thing to outrun. Demaris holds her close and whispers over the salty breeze. 

“We will find another way.”

“There may be one,” Gemma says, wiping tears from her cheeks and staring up into her face. “And it lies in Dane’s genes.”









-TBC

[Syren]

“It's always he said, she said
That you said, I said, we said
Once you started, won't stop
Whether you like it or not.”

-Night Club

Rakata Prime

Surface

“Wait, wait, wait – you are going to have to run that by me again.”

The scouting party had returned with parts in tow. Thankfully, they were able to salvage what they needed across several wreckages littered in the shallow waters surrounding nearby islands. With Roman and Oz working on the ship and the rest of the Jedi sourcing their next meal, Demaris gathers Riley and Taarek to hear Gemma out. The breakdown had mended something between them. The rift was not healed but their exchange provided some much-needed context and perspective. 

“What part are you struggling with?”

“For starters,” Taarek says. “The fact that this information comes to you by way of your dead sister. No offense. My father served the Jedi Melanie Masterton. He died for her so you can understand my reluctance to follow suit. How do you know it is even her?”

“She has been appearing to me since I was young, not often but always in times of great distress.”

“How though?”

Demaris touches his arm, “They are bound to one another through the Force. Some Jedi have communed with others for extended periods of time, whether that be a former Master or someone else tied to their past. It is not common but it is known and understood.” 

“And you believe this, Riley?”

He nods, “I do. I have seen my mother as well.” 

Confusion creases Taarek’s features, “I do not understand. I did not think you were connected to the Force.”

“I am not, well, not in the traditional way. I think Gemma can explain it better.”

She takes a breath, trying to find the right words that will resonate. Taarek may be the son of Seneca Cirque but he is here because protecting the marginalized against tyranny and oppression is part of his genetic makeup. Falling in with The Concealed and subsequently joining the separatist movement against the Republic was, in his mind, the right thing to do. Everything else has been part of an unexpected adventure, despite his belief in their mission. He has expressed skepticism at some of the more mystical elements of The Four’s saga and no one can blame him. It would sound crazy to anyone raised with greater boundaries between black and white. 

Their world is almost entirely grey.

“The prophecy, at least the translation Melanie had, references our families as the Royal Four of the Force. Two with a connection, two that serve as something called Touchstones. Think of it like a lawful-chaotic chart. The lawful good, the light, is on one end and the chaotic evil, the dark, on the other. The touchstones are more of the companions in that regard as lawful evil and chaotic good. Winton has traditionally been associated with the dark and Masterton with light although those labels may be a bit looser than intended. Gellar was seen as the lawful evil, someone who does good things for selfish reasons. Conversely, Patten embodied the chaotic good, one who does bad things for altruistic reasons.” 

“Okay, what does this have to do with you seeing ghosts?”

“I am getting there,” she says. “This connection between the four of us makes us more powerful together as we saw on Hesperidium. The touchstones act as some sort of a conduit for our powers which was something Melanie and the others did not seem to know. It also anchors us to our predecessors, allowing them to appear to us across the realms. Riley shared his encounters with Kimber and Dane alluded to the fact that he interacted with Valerie. We can deduce that Dahlia likely also saw Karen or Alexia or both. They are guides, coming to us when we need them.” 

He nods, “And she came to you here with this ominous news?”

“Well, yes, she claims Dahlia survived the attack and is not on the other side with them. Her survival would confirm the loop theory which is why we must be strategic with our next moves.”

“I am failing to see the strategy in her advising that you sacrifice yourselves.” 

Riley groans, silencing the alert tone on his bleeping com, “Something tells me it is not that simple.”

"It seldom is."

“Melanie presented a choice – forfeit by everyone just living their lives or lose by defeating Dahlia as Melanie lost by defeating Karen. Neither is acceptable if the past is any indication.” 

“They died on Centerpoint. How can you be sure Melanie killed Karen before the station imploded?”

“Dahlia told me,” she admits softly. “She claims her captor, the Sith that turned her, showed her photage from Centerpoint. That is why I said the labels for lawful and chaotic were loosely applied as, from what she says she saw, Karen stood down and Melanie killed her anyway. It would not have mattered if the others survived once Winton was dead. The prophecy was reset for the next generation – us.” 

“Reset? So, what the galaxy knows as the original Four were not so original after all?”

“It appears not although the last loop seems to have come the closest with all four of them being together. That is why I think there was no mention of the original Four seeing those before them as they had never been united in such a way.” 

Riley makes a face, “My mother and your sister were only together on Coruscant because they were brought together. It was a deliberate action from what the Holodoc indicated.”

“As we were brought together when we were younger.” 

“Someone wants this conclusion,” Taarek says, now recognizing the pattern. “But who?”

Demaris breathes in as the answer reveals itself, “The monsters. The Voss-Ra. They were embedded close to Dahlia, posing as one of her security detail and likely pre-date whatever manipulations her father imposed on the others. We may not know how far back this goes or how many cycles in we are but there is a common factor. If they can appear as anyone, they may have been there all along without anyone ever even knowing.” 

Gemma crosses her arms, chilled despite the tropical climate. 

“That makes an obscene amount of sense. It would have been easier to intervene with proximity, something I suspect prevented their success with previous cycles. They would have seen you as a threat which is why they tried to eliminate you on Hesperidium. It would also explain why they were so adamant about taking us down on Corellia. They were hoping to speed up the timeline, leaving fewer obstacles between Dahlia and fulfilling the prophecy.” 

“While that is less than reassuring, you said Melanie presented a choice.”

“Forfeiting or losing only extends the prophecy across another generation. Any offspring we have will become players in the same game. Over and over again until the one that survives is the Winton.”

“I already regret asking this,” Riley mutters. “But what happens if the Winton survives?”

“I do not know but clearly the Voss-Ra believe it means something otherwise they would not be working so hard to achieve this outcome nor would Alexander Winton have gone to such lengths.” 

“What does that mean for us now?”

“It means all four of us must die in order for the prophecy to end.”

Saying it out loud silences them all momentarily, making it suddenly very real. It settles uneasily among the group. 

Demaris steps forward, trying to add some levity to the dark turn. 

“Gemma, you mentioned another option.”

“A loophole within the loop?”

“Yes. It is a dreadful alternative but I see no other way through this.”

“We have gone this far. Tell us.”

“You heard the stories about the droid that seemingly lived. It was rumored to be a combination of Federation technology and something in the Gellar genetics but this was never verified after Corellia abolished the use of droids altogether. I suspect the same process was used to create those Infiltrators we encountered, the ones who were running around with Nevylinn’s face to frame the Jedi on Chandaar. The one who kidnapped us all those years ago. Melanie warned me of that as well – the enemy with the face of a friend. Your aunt, Riley. Mara. We trusted them because they looked like people we knew, easily able to step in and replace the original.” 

“Could they have been the Voss-Ra?”

“They never changed back, even when engaged in battle. Whatever powers the Voss-Ra have are finite and cannot be sustained during an attack. It takes a considerable amount of energy to maintain that kind of glamour. We know this from our encounters with them on Corellia and D’ian. No, these were deliberately created beings.”

“I am not sure I like where this is going.”

“Are you suggesting we create replicas of ourselves in order to fool them into believing we died?” 

“I do not think it works that way. Whatever the endgame is will not be achieved unless we are truly dead with no heirs to carry on any future loops.”

“Then what?”

She knows how it will sound but Gemma goes there anyway. 

“If there was a way to recreate ourselves through this process using Dane’s genetic material and his company’s technology, we could defeat Dahlia only to awaken in new bodies free of the prophecy forever. The thing is, in order for it to work, we would actually have to die too.”

“That is bloody insane!”

“Orchestrating your own massacre is…extreme.”

“I said it was dreadful but we either die fulfilling the prophecy or die ending it."

“Riley, come on! You cannot think this is a good plan.”

He holds her face in his hands, “Gemma, I love you. I have always loved you. We have our whole lives ahead of us and I do not want to risk our future on a theory. I am surprised that you would.”

Tears slide down her cheeks, curling up and over his knuckles. 

“Then tell me how you think this ends. I love you too, Riley but the threat of the prophecy will always hang over our happiness if the cycle continues. Is that what you want? To live in constant fear that any step we take forward may doom us or others?”

“Of course not which is why we will find another way.”

“How?”

“By going after these Voss-Ra directly. We need to return to Corellia, share this information with Master Atrii and the others, and figure out how to either draw them out or go on the offensive. If you think they really are the key to this thing then we need answers and those answers will lead us to a solution. Hopefully, one that does not involve such a large and personal sacrifice.” 

She smiles as he pulls her into his arms. 

“Oh good, we can forget about the creepy replicas then?”

“No,” Riley says. “There is something my mother told me once when she appeared to me at the Patten Ranch – always have a contingency. This is ours. I am not even sure Dane will be on board with this but having it in our back pocket in the event this road leads to disaster will give us an advantage they will not see coming.” 

“I will broach the subject with him when we are on our way back.”

He pulls out his com to check the missed call, frowning. 

“What is it?”

“Message from Corellia,” he says, stepping away. “Excuse me.”

Demaris runs a hand along Gemma’s back, “Do you feel better now that you have shared this burden?”

“Surprisingly, I do despite the grim options.”

“You are not alone in this.”

“Right,” Taarek says. “I may not completely understand it but I believe you want to spare others the same fate as your sister and my father. No one’s life should be lost as part of a secret, sinister agenda. If there is a way to stop this without the trail of bodies then I say we explore it.”

Riley returns, looking troubled. 

“Everything okay?”

“It was Octavia with the People’s Council. Senator Soldys has been arrested on Chandaar on charges of conspiracy and treason against the Republic.”

The news ripples through them, crystallizing around the initial purpose of their journey into the Unknown Regions. 

“A timely reminder that the prophecy is not the only threat we face.” 

“If anything, it compounds the issue.”

“They must know,” he says. “About the Jedi. If the Republic pins this on the Senator they will use him to hold all of Corellia accountable to their detestable law.”

“And you think rushing back in there is going to make the situation better?”

“We need their help and resources with the Voss-Ra problem and we have reinforcements in our team and the superlaser. When the Republic comes, and they will come, we will be there to stop them.”

Riley glances out at the rest of the Jedi gathering on the beach. Every one of them has something at stake here. He and Gemma are caught in the prophecy’s sights, Roman seeks redemption for losing Preston, Taarek champions freedom, and Demaris and the Jedi fight for their right to exist. 

“If the repairs are complete, we leave in the morning.”







-TBC

[Medivh]

Coruscant Asteroid Field
With a shudder that threatened to rip the station in two, the Sphere pummeled out of hyperspace near the edge of the Coruscant Asteroid Field.

A Voss Ra appeared at Adubell's door.

"Mistress Adubell  - the hyperdrive has been disabled from the journey. We will not be able to make another jump without extensive repair"

Fair enough - the Sphere carried too much mass, most machinery couldn't take it.  The hyperdrive systems had done what they needed to do.  They got the sphere to the Coruscant System.

"Activate the sublight engines, and begin moving to the final coordinates."

The Sphere began moving forward, slowly, carefully.  As it did, asteroids began to strike it, hitting the surface, denting in various places the metal or the dirt surface-structure.  Small craters appeared, but Adubell didn't care.

The lightning too was ignored.  Attracted to the metal frame, jagged streak after streak struck the Sphere as it moved, occasionally triggering a malfunction of some system or another, and yet the station moved on.

It was a few hours later the next report came in, telling Adubell that the Sphere had reached it's location, the very heart of the asteroid field, where the planet Coruscant had once stood.

"Set the station on a standard planetary rotation"

The forward thrusters were deactivated, and instead, a new set of thrusters were ignited.  Ever so slowly, the sphere began to turn, Adubell watching, monitoring the speed and trajectory. The computer was compensating for gravity from the sun and nearby moons, and various debris.  Within a few hours, everyone on the station was feeling the centrifical forces, and artificial gravity was slowly being powered down.

Adubell stalked out of the executive chamber, making her way to the turbolift that led to the surface.  She was alone at this moment, her minions had orders, and one was to not be disturbed.  As the turbolift doors opened into the Sphere's surface, she could hear the hiss of the depressurization.  If she had still been human, she would have died instantly. As it was, her hybrid body could only stand the exterior for so long before she would end up needing yet another replacement.

No matter. Her task would be finished in time.

Adubell's arms lifted, wide over her head, bending her neck downward, closing her eyes.

She thought to the battle, the fight with the young Masterton jedi, her sister, the traitor Infiltrator droid.  Focused on the hate that she had for all three.  Focused on the pleasure she felt as she killed the jedi, one by one.  In the pit of her stomach, she could feel it growing, the power. It began to radiate from the ground - the sith-infused earth of Korriban, up her legs, into her torso, pooling around her.  She lifted her head, eyes opened wide, black pools of darkness.  Electricity crackled at her fingertips.  The strength of the sith temple, buried below, channeling through her, as it had before. She was their vessel,their conduit.  Her hatred, her anger, her passion allowed them to use her as they needed.  Lightning extended from her fingers into the asteroid field that surrounded her.

Streaks of ioninc energy that seemed to move about at random catapulted toward her.  She didn't flinch as the first streak of lightning diverted downward, connecting with the blue fizzles at her fingertips. joining with her.  One. Then another. Then another.  The lightning didn't disappear - it extended from her fingers, stronger, further, wider.  She could feel their searing heat, their deadly power, attach to her. One streak then another.  The very energy spreading over hear head.  Until it was all there, all concentrated above her. Pulsing, wanting to escape, to destroy whatever it touched.  The energy swirled above her, between her two open hands - then began to spread, like a wave, out in all directions, over the entire surface of the Sphere.  The ion energy had been laced with the one who caused it - the Dark Queen, when Coruscant was destroyed, and now it danced and flirted with the sith power that it had connected to, it's color darkening from a bright blue to a midnight black, until the entire surface of the sphere was hidden behind a ball of dark energy.

Only then did Adubell's hands fall, her body collapsing to the earth beneath her.  She managed to roll onto her back, looking up at the barely visible sphere that encompassed the station.  The blackness in her eyes receded, and suddenly, she gasped, as she took a breath of air.

in her weakened state, she whispered.

"Welcome back ... Coruscant ..."

((I love when I can tie parts of stories together, taking past posts and giving them more meaning.))

"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the force" - Darth Vader
"Power!  Unlimited POWER!!!"  - Shree Palpatine/Darth Sidious

Coruscant 

Ecstacy.  Adubell's skin shook, her heart pounded, her eyelids shuttered as she stiffled a moan.  Her mind wandered, back to Alexander, briefly thinking of his touch, his lips.  But this?  This was so much more.
Companionship could not possibly make her feel like this.
It was power.
While the surface of Coruscant was growing into a vibrant world, its hidden secret still lay beneath the surface: The ancient sith temple, literally excavated from Korriban.  Adubell had reinvented Coruscant, had let the sith powers use her to channel their power, forming a world, an atmosphere.

And what had Dahlia done?  YES, she made Coruscant grow the way it was. But she hadn't done it alone.  The Winton royal needed her three cousins/step-siblings/whatever.  Only the four of them TOGETHER had the power to advance this world.  Adubell needed none of that.  She could channel the force enough on her own.  But even she was limited.  When she reformed the sphere of Coruscant, she had been channeling the existing power of the sith temple.

Today though, she wasn't just a conduit.  She was the power.  Standing in the center of the temple, the whole of Coruscant pressing down around her, she stared at the crystaline orb in her hands, feeling it's power coursing through her, into her.  Sheer. Ecstacy.

Dahlia needed 'the four' to bring life to a world.  But Dahlia could never do what Adubell could with the object in her hand. She could create life itself.  She could transform the inorganic to organic.
She could even be reborn.  True, Adubell had learned to appreciate the advantages of her droid-form, but the Force was stronger through real-flesh.
The orb glowed brightly at first, a shining white light, but as Adubell channeled her anger, her hatred, her passion through it, the glow changed, the orb's color changed to an obsidian.  Adubell could feel it coursing through her, making her stronger, more powerful, making her into the true master of ...
And then she lost it, cursing her own lack of discipline. She had been so close to untapping its full power, but she had grown too arrogant, too quickly.
Alexander's fatal flaw, she reminded herself. Adubell would not make the same mistake.  She was not invincible, not totally immortal. At least not yet.
But the day would come soon when she was.  When no one - not her sister, not that pesky droid infiltrator, not even a Winton princess would be able to defeat her.

And then the galaxy would learn the truth about the prophesy ...
TBC

[Syren]

“I’ll shut my eyes and shut my heart
Paint it black, paint it dark.”

-Meg Myers

Klasse Ephemore System

Mobus: M-4: Surface

A Chiss long-range shuttle streaks through the thin atmosphere of Mobus’ fourth moon. At the controls, a furious and vengeful Balt’nashir’nuruodo, known by the CSA name Balthazar Nash, guides the ship through the narrow, winding, and frost-covered canyons to a hidden outpost he had established many years before. The family diplomatic cruiser is nearly indistinguishable amongst the jagged outcroppings at the sloped base of an expansive crescent canyon and provides the perfect overhead cover. Roughly landing the shuttle, he storms out into the swirling wisps of snow. 

Balthazar has just returned from the nearby Yashuvhu where he found his currency and weapons stores plundered. There were signs of a battle with scorch marks from the blasters evident yet it triggered no alarm. The crown jewel of his armory, a superlaser secretly developed by Palace Arms capable of taking down a capital ship, was also missing. How could this have happened? He was meticulous in every detail, knowing how quickly the ruling families can turn on one another. There have been four for some time now but it was his intention to bring the two most influential together. That is until it all fell apart. It is his most spectacular failure, one that brought deep shame to their House and name. House Nuruodo and House Csapla would never be united and they would not control Ascendancy resources, foreign affairs, and military as one. It was a grand plan that would have made him and others immensely powerful. His clever scheming is tragically compromised. Things on Csilla had declined so rapidly upon his return from the Corporate Sector, leaving him few options aside from fight or run. They would not last long on their homeworld of Naporar and so they fell back to the outpost in order to regroup and gather supplies before plotting their next move. It seems they would have to brave the Unknown Regions with nothing, a reality that does not bode well for them. 

Balthazar enters the outpost and catches the faintest hint of something burning. There is an unnatural silence that settles over the space, a hush that seems intentionally unnerving. He draws his blaster and calls out. 

“Rinoa?”

“We are in here.”

That is not the voice of his wife. He moves carefully through each room until he comes to the small mess hall. Rinoa’s body is slumped sideways in a chair. Her head sits in the center of the table, cleanly cauterized at the neck. A female Chiss rises from the head of the table as he takes aim and fires. She ignites a red lightsaber in a hue matching her eyes and hair that reflects the bolt and destroys the blaster. He winces at the pain and drops the ruined weapon. 

“Alia,” he mutters bitterly. “How did you-“

“Find you? You really are so predictable, Balthazar. Backed into yet another corner of your own construction and forced to run. I swore to my family I would not return until you were both punished. Funny how they suddenly appreciate my Sight in light of these…extenuating circumstances. The Ascendancy wants you dead.”

He draws back and sneers at her, “Our current situation is a direct result of Gellar’s lies. We had nothing to do with the incident on Hesperidium.” 

She scoffs, twirling the humming blade around as she moves out from behind the table. 

“It seems the Direx Board feels otherwise as they have stripped your voting rights and anything else that matters. Two of their heirs gone with you painted as the perfect villain. The revenues died right alongside your reputation. Your company, your legacy, has been sold off and repurposed. A wholly-owned subsidiary from what I hear. You let a spoiled human teenager outsmart you. Pathetic.” 

“You know nothing about what you speak."

“I disagree,” Alia quips icily. “It is you who do not understand the magnitude of your mistake. Your short-sightedness in striking down Preston Dyre as means to drive your son into my arms is staggering.”

“Roman betrayed you as well by choosing that…that boy over you.” 

“I could not stand the pouty twink, that much is true, but I understood his place. There would be no swaying Roman and you are lying to yourself if you thought otherwise. There was a more strategic way to go about it. I saw our union as superficial and intended to appeal to him under these circumstances in time. Roman would have come around once he understood what was really in it for him. It would be a partnership in name only, allowing our families to rule while making space for their romance, forbidden as it may have been. Could I have loved your son? Possibly but love was never part of the deal. You could have had everything, ruled all the ruling families but instead, you dashed those chances with your insipid machinations, and we both lost Roman.” 

“So, this is your revenge then.”

“If you choose to view it that way. Unlike you, and your recently deceased wife, I still have a way to salvage my reputation and spare my family undue scrutiny from the others. They hate you more than me and I saw the perfect opportunity. Manipulation, as you well know, works both ways. I will restore my honor by reducing the four ruling families to three. That is part of the deal.”

“What deal?”

She smiles but it lacks any warmth or comfort, “The one I made with the Sith. They promised to help me hunt you down in exchange for assistance with the Gellar-Masterton’s. After all, they are the ones who corrupted Roman with their humanity in the first place. Without them, Roman would never have met Preston and, romance or not, he and I could have joined our families. Now, they will be punished just as you will.” 

“Alia, we have the same enemy! Gellar must fall.”

“Fool,” she hisses, advancing on him. “You are all my enemies. There is nothing that you have that I could not take for myself. I will forge my own legacy with the end of House Nuruodo.”

Balthazar barely has time to open his mouth in protest before she is standing in front of him, slashing the glowing saber through his neck in one quick movement. She grabs his head as his body crumples to the floor, deactivating her weapon and clipping it to her belt. Tossing the severed head in a bag, she grabs Rinoa’s off the table and does the same, cinching it closed and slinging it over her shoulder. She would present them to the Aristocra as a symbol their family was no longer worthy of representing Chiss interests, here or elsewhere in the galaxy. They could not protect them if they could not even protect themselves. House Csapla would now control the military and phalanxes, giving her family a considerable increase in influence. It would also grant her the power, respect, and wealth to support her outside efforts. Balthazar was not the only one who turned their prowess and might into a barbarous jape in the Corporate Sector. 

On the trek back to her own shuttle, hidden a few kilometers away, Alia detonates the charges she set within the outpost and on both vessels. The brilliant orange glow of the flames curling up into the frigid deep blue sky gives her the satisfying conclusion she was seeking. She accomplished what she set out to do, the catalyst for her dark awakening, and she guides her ship up through the gently falling snow into orbit. Roman has been avenged and soon she would go after those that softened him against the ways of the Chiss. Master Adubell showed her what the destiny of the famed and fabled Four brought to anyone who went near it. The prophecy brings death to all and she would make sure it found those responsible. She glances down at the darkening moon below. 

“Cseo bisatahn’ho, taskebo lio’ci.”

With a smug smirk and the heads of House Nuruodo beside her, Alia’aelise’csapla pulls back on the controls and makes the jump to hyperspace for Csilla. 






-TBC

[Syren]

“Time ticks into place
And lets you out in your old room
Mind begins to race
I haven’t done what I came to do
Oh, ooh, oh, no.”

-Friko

Hyperspace

Hurling through the milky swirls of the Perlemian Trade Route, they’ve had a bit of time to chat.

Through each interaction, Dahlia grows more convinced of his belief in her. And it feels…good. To have someone believe in her this way. In a way someone hasn’t believed in her since her adopted parents departed these worlds in a rather gruesome fashion and she was once again orphaned. She desperately wants to let go of her doubts, the lingering fears that he may eventually turn on them and doom distant descendants unknowingly waiting in line to be the next targets of the Voss-Ra’s reality-shaping spectacle, but the feeling persists.

She hears Barrett’s voice in the back of her head urging her to be cautious despite Seif’s pledge of loyalty. He chose her over them and she knows this was no small gesture, considering how much of his life had been wrapped up in their plans. That is not lost on her and so she mitigates the feelings of mistrust by conjuring an empathy and understanding that they are both being used and they are each other's only ways out.

Dahlia wants to stop the cycles as well – by winning. No more games.

Seif needs them to stop as the perpetual motion of the prophecy prevents him from ever maintaining any agency and stability.

In this, their goals are aligned and she prepares herself to be the vessel through which the galaxy is fractured by a war neither wants but will inevitably incite. After some stretching, training, and meditation, they retire for the evening to dream of what could be after this is all over.

As they slumber, the nav computer drops them out of hyperspace near Lantilles. A few moments pass as the computer recalculates then jumps again. A short hop before exiting again near a small, icy moon beyond which lay a stunning auburn and azure world not entirely unfamiliar although it has been some time since the world had been visited by a member of this particular family.

Seif is roused after they come out of the first jump and, groggily returning to the main cabin, only realizes what is happening shortly before they arrive at their destination and its potential impact.

The Princess, after a completely oblivious shower and outfit change, joins him and tilts her head at the scene before her, “That’s not…”

“No, it’s not.”

“Then, like, where are we?”

“Contruum,” he says lowly. It does not click with her as quickly as he would like so he adds, “Where your sister Karen was sent after they forced her into the Imperial diploserv program as part of the search for Alexia, where she first displayed a dark and terrifying power the way you did on Hesperidium.”

She swallows hard, “Oh.”

“That got your attention. It got theirs as well and solidified her stance as the Daughter of Darkness in the eyes of the Voss-Ra. She did well, all things considered, and secured Imperial interests on the planet. Not that it lasted.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Empire later...coerced Kimber Patten into a similar diplomatic role under the pretense we would rally forces behind Valerie Gellar’s campaign on Corellia against the Trade Federation. You know your history so you know that did not happen. Those pesky operatives, Max and Xam, had other directives, abducting and experimenting on a Hapan Admiral with an earlier prototype of what eventually became the Imperial Control Serum resulting in a rather bloody battle in which we were the victors."

The nanotech flowing through Quinn and Kinsa Cavanaugh used to turn them into lethal agents when necessary.

The same nanotech Schrag wanted to use to control her.

A shiver runs down the length of her spine as the cyclical nature of everything settles in.

“You sound as though this is not coincidental. Do tell.”

Seif’s half smile is hidden in shadow, “I selected Agent Scott St. Claire to procure Karen’s cooperation. The Voss-Ra requested my perspective and I was on hand to assist if anyone veered too far off script, if you will. Of all the candidates, St. Claire was hardened but not enough to resist forming an attachment to her and play the prophetic role of Unconventional Champion. Someone who would turn on their principles to keep her safe.”

“It only cost his life if I recall.”

“His and so many others. As I told you, the Voss-Ra are willing to go further than you or I could ever imagine in their attempts to fulfill the prophecy and allow the Sith to rise once more.”

“You didn’t stop my father. Or yours. As far as scripts go, I think we can safely say they weren’t reading from the same one as everyone else.”

“Not my call,” he says evenly. “And I believed the Voss-Ra had everything under control.”

“How has that worked out for you?”

“Don’t gloat and focus. I did not set this course. We were brought to Contruum.”

“Concerned but not surprised? I suppose we shouldn’t be by now. Wait, you said this shuttle was prepared for our trip. By who?”

“Those I thought I could trust.”

“Trust can be purchased, darling,” Dahlia murmurs as her emerald eyes are drawn to the world before them. However, it is not the larger planet that calls them nor the icy moon nearby. It is the innermost moon that beckons as if whispering through the stars to an exclusive audience.

There is something out there.

Down on that moon.

Calling.

Waiting.

For them.








-TBC