Miss'arare'nuosho - Changes

[Sara]

Season 2

Sararen slumped down in his bunk as the call came out over the intercom as usual, the room suddenly engulfed in darkness as the other prisoners likewise slipped into their usual cots. He rolled over onto his right side and stared at the blazing figure of One as she barely moved from her meditation spot, eyes closed over with a plaintive look upon her face, it was plain to see, the way the heat drained from her extremities as she ruminated upon the failures of the past, a feeling not unfamiliar to him and he could sympathise with her. But he couldn’t feel it. A mournful expression crept over his own features as he closed his eyes and tried to settle in to sleep as he heard the perplexing mumbles of Cassidy coming from the next bed over.

There was a constant noise in the place that offered a hollow comfort, the ever present tension upon the giant chain that revolved through the room in an endless cycle day and night, the closest thing to a clock they had beyond the timekeeping of the guards. He tucked his arms into himself snugly as he drifted off.

---

The Chiss found himself walking through a waist high field of golden grain for as far as the eye could see, swaying in the wind with it as his rifle swayed at his side, full combat-dress slick with sweat and the stains of combat. Time seemed to slow, or stand still entirely, hands outstretched to brush the bountiful bushels between his fingertips. The hot sun beat upon his face, raising a hand to shield his eyes as he crested a small hill and stared out over the horizon, a smoking hellscape of shell craters and bright streaks of blaster fire being exchanged between battle lines, the outline of a low-flying capital ship bombarding the battlefield below.

The more he walked, he became aware of others walking with. A Wookie, then a Twi’lek, two Mandalorians in colourful battle garments, more besides spread out through the field. Suddenly a Sith Cruiser descended through dense cloud cover, turbolaser batteries unleashing a creeping barrage through the field. He stared towards it, each impactful blast shaking the ground beneath his feet, vapourising the field and his companions as it made it’s way towards him. He grit his teeth, staring up at the ship as the fateful blast impacted nearby, knocking him off his feet with a tremendous force as he opened his mouth to scream.

---

He sat bolt upright in his bed, sucking in a deep breath as a light sweat covered his brow, blinking a few times as the room swayed around him, seeing a couple of inmates up early and milling about the room as he slipped his legs out of bed and planted them firmly on the floor, staring down between them as he rolled his neck to the side with a low groan, exhaling as he looked up to see One unmoved from her spot since the night before, squinting as he felt a shiver crawl up his spine. It had been a long time since he dreamt like that, many months, and so it seemed to be for his fellow prisoner too, locked in eternal conflict with her own mind, debilitated by the weight of it. But he was free.

A novel concept, surrounded by duracrete walls and cell bars, but it was true. He noticed One stir peacefully and turn her head towards him, meeting his gaze without a word. He raised his eyebrows as he recalled Donzo’s words to him, feeling an ache in his stomach as he looked over towards the ‘goop’ and then back at One, receiving but a nod in return. With a light groan he pushed himself up out of his cot, his body still aching all over as he shuffled towards the barrels in the corner and took two dirty bowls, holding them under the spout and letting the sickly, neon green near-liquid fill them up before walking over to One’s corner with them, offering her one as he fell into a low squat next to her, gazing out over the rest of their prison from there.

[Sara]

Time

The Chiss prisoner drew in a breath as he stared at himself in the dirty, clouded mirror, exhaling sharply as he reached up to paw at the dark mark under one of his eyes, stretching out the skin a little bit as he sneered at himself. He cupped his hands under the weak stream of brown water and closed his eyes, splashing his face with it before giving it a rub over with a sigh, looking at himself again as he reached for his toothbrush and ran the fetid stream before thrusting it into his mouth and scrubbing it over his sharp fangs, swilling the filthy water about his mouth before spitting it out into the sink.

As he stared into his own blood red eyes the realisation came to him slowly, it was all their fault. The Sith. The Jedi. The Force itself. The malignant tumour that pumped and pulsated upon the very Galaxy itself, siphoning the lifeforce of all things and manipulating them to it’s nebulous will. Yet it’s power was so great none of them could see it, he couldn’t see it. His grip tensed on the edge of the porcelain basin as he closed his eyes with a low growl. He remembered the past, the people, the lens through which it had all been viewed so incorrectly and yet how might any of them be blamed. Perhaps Elyd was right to cast him out when she did, to be untrusting of force users. To slaughter them like the dogs they are. Yes, he recalled how she had defeated the Lord Inquisitor and packed her corpse with explosives, the stories of little bits of gore and bone raining all throughout the mountains in the tremendous aftermath. Indeed, perhaps, the Ascendancy was right, that all force sensitives should be in the ground or in chains.

He opened his eyes and twisted away from the mirror, glancing over his shoulder to see Laurana waiting to use the sink rather patiently, pushing himself off it and sheathing his toothbrush in the waistband of his prison pants as he offered her a curt nod on his way past, his face slick with sweat and a maddened look in his eye as he cast a rightward glance towards One, still kneeling, still meditating. Still a pawn shackled by forces she could not possibly hope to understand or overcome. He recalled the Mad Man of Veles, how he had granted him such a swift and merciful release from his torment, the exploded skull fragments littering the floor, the viscous pool of bubbling blood and his last thankful breath.

He recalled the Navigator.

A low rumble escaped him as he gripped the bottom edge of his jumpsuit top and hauled it off, tossing the garment to hang over a pipe as he jumped up and grabbed hold of another, arms spread wide as he started a set of pull-ups on the makeshift bar, bones cracking loudly as his powerful, broad back stretched and flexed with each motion. His gaze affixed upon the bleak wall in front of him as he shook off the creeping sense of disgrace and steeled his resolve for the revolutions to come. One cannot mark time, one must always move forward.

[Sara]

Summer has come and passed…

Despite the timeless, lightlessness of the place he found himself in, he arose that morning with a deep sense of… loss. He stayed in bed for most of the day, never bothering to rise and eat or to brush his teeth, work out or engage in any of the usual activities. For today was a black day, marking three years since the death of his sister. He curled on himself in the bed as he considered trying to make some sort of offering or show of remembrance, but with what? His toothbrush? In this place, he had nothing. All he had to give were his thoughts, and all he could think about is how he hardly knew her, ten years away from home in the military, ten long years where he barely visited home but a handful of times, engaged in the many long campaigns of the Chiss Expansion all across the many sectors that they had drawn into their budding empire. His lips curled into a frown as he recalled all of the times he chose to take leave upon the paradise-like colony worlds rather than visit home to be with his family, how eager he was to throw off his low-born title and don the mantle of lord, forsake all he had known for power, status and wealth. How in the end it was only then he made the effort to go back to them, to say goodbye… not knowing how final it would be.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to drift off again.

[Sara]

The Bad Man

A swirl of murky water descended down the drain as he lifted his gaze to look himself in the eye, his expression hardening with a cold sneer, looking down at his body in the mirror. A mere nine months ago to behold his body was to gaze upon perfection itself, unmarred by defeat, pristine in appearance and function. Now he beheld his battle-scarred torso, raked by scars fresh and old. He felt a familiar sting in his right side as he ran a hand down over the jagged, W-cut scar he’d picked up while knife-fighting in the back alleys of Veles. He circled his right wrist with his cybernetic left hand, the better-than-life sensation once bestowed upon him now gone entirely, and yet, as he brushed the crest of each slash and cut he could feel them, remember them all, the duels, the battles, the victories and the defeats. All of his achievements, all that he had done for love, how it meant nothing to any of them in the end. They had already cast him as the villain.

As he looked back up at his face he hardly recognized the reflection, a monster flashing it’s fangs as he growled at himself, removing his hands from the sink before he did any damage to it, a quick half turn to his right revealing a queue of fellow prisoners. He turned away from them and grabbed his jumpsuit top, pulling it over his head as he paced across the room slowly, staring through the old gate at the console behind it, but he didn’t really see it. His mind flashed and flared with blinding ferocity. What did he want? He knew what he wanted, so many things, and he knew that he could not have them. They had been taken away from him.

The only question that remained… what might he take from them?

[Sara]

Keep smiling through!

He awoke early, the room still blanketed in the merciful darkness as his crimson eyes flickered to life. A rising swell of euphoria drove him from his bed, stretching as he made his way towards the sink, a broad, toothy grin on his face as he beheld his reflection in the dark. His long tongue flicked over his sharp canines on either side as he winked at himself, admiring the radiant glow that had since returned to his cheeks. Certainly, some time below ground in his natural habitat was probably all he needed to get back on top.

Quickly he whipped himself around to observe his cellmates, sleeping blissfully. He moved like a predator, his footsteps barely a whisper as he circled them like prey. Sleeping humans had always fascinated him in a way his own kind simply did not… indeed, he made a mental note to acquire one. Perhaps as a pet.

He continued towards the gloop corner, squatting low as he gripped one of the barrels and hefted it up, raising the rim to his lips and pouring it into his open maw, pulling away as a luminescent green streak dripped down his lips and hit his chest, slowly lowering the barrel again, setting it down softly on the hard duracrete floor before wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, his attention captured by the elusive One. Naturally he had no trouble navigating the darkness before lights on in the morning, though the way she slowly turned towards him and opened her eyes set him on edge slightly. He knew what it was she wanted, the only thing she ever wanted.

With pursed lips he stared at her a moment, tilting his head to one side, a motion that was mirrored across the room as he let out a short snicker, turning to grab a bowl and fill it from the barrel, taking it to her in silence. He extended the thin metal dish to her as he stood there, staring down at her for a moment as she simply took it with the same silent courteous nod as ever, starting to eat whilst the Chiss loomed. He swallowed hard as he found himself transfixed on her, something about her. Her serene calm, the sense of ease she seemed to put him at, her greasy, unkempt auburn locks. His head shook lightly as he stepped away and turned his back on her, sighing deeply as he tried to find that earlier sense of euphoria to see him through another day.

[Sara]

You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht…

Sararen lifted his head as he regarded himself in a tall, gothic framed mirror, a broad grin of satisfaction as he straightened the collar of his pearly white suit, a hand down the front smoothing the fabric as an arm hooked his elbow, glancing aside to meet Ulli’s pretty green eyes, glancing down at their dress, a multi-tiered ballgown laden with glittering gemstones that tapered up into an elegant, open-shouldered top. A quiet laugh escaped him as he leaned in to plant a soft kiss on their lips, a swell of pride rising in his chest as he felt the envious eyes of the room upon them, breaking away with a smile as the duo walked towards the entrance of the ballroom, descending a quintet of dark steps down onto the dancefloor itself.

As he took in the room their presence was noted by all without exception, the swell of hate palpable as he brazenly strode across the floor without a second glance towards the rest. Then he saw her. It was as though time stood still around him, the cheerful yet entirely soulless background music fading away as he felt his heart thud once heavily and stop in his chest, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck as he tried to take in another breath. She managed to be the only one in the room whose dark splendour rivaled the beatific radiance of his own partner, a low growl finally escaping him as he felt Ulli tugging at his arm tightly, pulling him close with a plaintive plea.

"Sara… don’t go…"

---

He opened his eyes and shook off the daydream with a low rumble, staring up at the lifeless grey ceiling as he started another set of sit-ups, twisting his core on the way up with a quiet growl, focusing on the old gate that barred the way towards some sort of computer terminal. There was little doubt in his mind that at least one of his fellow prisoners could most certainly open it, though he wondered…

The Chiss sat up for the last time, then pushed himself to his feet, approaching the gloop barrels and reaching for a bowl, scooping up a serving and sipping it thoughtfully as he paced the room. He passed the door, a careful sideward glance towards the guard, as disinterested as ever, standing with that blank look on her stupid face. A light snort escaped him as he continued his patrol, another sip of the bitingly acidic green slop.

Upon passing the locked gate again he paused for a brief few seconds, splashing some of the gloop over the lock mechanism, noting good coverage he continued to pace, drinking the rest of the vile soup down as he pondered. What if…

[Sara]

Freedom

"The Leader is responsible for those under his Authority. That is the first rule of Command. He is responsible for their safety, their provisions, their knowledge… and ultimately, their lives."

Sararen recalled the words of his mentor, his brow squaring off as he focused upon a singular spot on the wall. There was a time when he knew all of their names, the eight hundred and seventy-three lost souls who gave their life for his failure. For a long time it grated on his mind, wondering what he might have done differently, how things might’ve went if the order to abandon ship was given, or if battle had not been joined at all. Though in the end he always came to the same conclusion, that there was no honourable alternative. He had carried out his duty as was expected of him, as had the crew.

"Leadership and Obedience are the two legs on which a Warrior’s life is balanced. Without both, victory cannot be achieved."

He drew in a deep breath as he considered the words carefully. Leadership relies upon information, knowledge, and the comprehension of it in the grander scheme. Obedience…? Not so much. He had failed due to a lack of knowledge, of comprehension of his enemy, and how might he have had it, for was it not first contact? No, his failure was a necessary one so that his people might learn and become stronger. As for Obedience, not a single man or woman lacked for it that day. A connection severed and yet, this time, another still reborn anew. What knowledge possessed he now that he might share with his people? A nebulous thought not to be entertained, for the present required his focus. Yes, that was why he pondered the past.

"Sometimes a Commander may choose to share details of his plan. Often he may not. In either case, obedience must be instant and complete. Such automatic response relies upon trust between Commander and those commanded, and that trust can only be attained through leadership."

Leadership relies upon information, knowledge, and the comprehension of it in the grander scheme. In order to gain the trust of his accomplices he would have to gain as much information as he might. So far efforts had been fruitful, he had learned much. Though not all plans should be shared. Criminals, terrorists and exiles they may have been, but hardened some of them were not. To slay the adulterous lover of one’s husband is one thing, to watch the life drain from the eyes of an innocent is another entirely. Some of them may have entertained dreams of riding the chain to freedom, though he couldn’t afford to be so naïve. Even if that was their most viable option, they had no idea what they would be walking into. Unless cameras might be accessed, then they may have more of a chance. Knowledge and comprehension. Not many guards had been noted, two or three at most within actionable distance to any attempt. Faced by those of an unshakeable will there would be no contest. Then they would hold the keys to their salvation. These were all facets he had considered, planned for, and was ready to execute on. He would lead them through this gauntlet.

"Leadership is a role and a task that should never be aspired to lightly. Neither should loyalty be given without reason, even if the primary reason is nothing more than the Solder’s Oath and Duty. A true Leader will work to prove worthy of a deeper trust."

His teeth ground as he felt the double-edged blade of that wisdom pierce his cold heart, how he had taken loyalty and twisted it, abused it, and all of the abhorrent consequences of it. He should have to prove himself worthy. No one would be left behind.

To Freedom.

[Sara]

Soon I’ll come around…

He sat up in the night again, slick with sweat, breathing heavily as he looked from side to side frantically, a cold shiver running down his spine. More bad dreams.

He was adrift in a dark, endless sea, the sky above as black as the depths below, his small craft buffeted from side to side mercilessly by the waves unbound. He rowed, and rowed, even as the biting rains began to whip at his back, lashing straight through his clothes, stabbing at him as a thousand needles as he kept rowing. Then, without prelude a huge wave crashed into the side of him and tossed him from the boat, eyes wide in terror as he hurtled through the sky, catching a final glimpse of his life line smashed into pieces before the depths took him, hitting the water hard and plummeting several feet below the surface, struggling to ascend whilst breathing in a lungful of salty water, his vision fading…

As he wiped his brow and sat up on the edge of the bed he controlled himself, slowing his breathing as his many concerns and worries plagued his weary mind. The others seemed so intent on their paths forward, even after so many years languishing in this dungeon, and yet he, out of place for a mere few weeks, was without one. To go to Corellia with the others? He saw no reason not to, but it was not his aspiration. It was not his hope that drove him there. What did he want? Such a simple thing, yet so muddied by the twists and turns of his path so far, those of his own making and the other changes yet forced upon him. His investiture into the Dark Side had revealed so very much to him, about himself, about others, about that which he wanted. His fists clenched tightly in his lap as he leant over, staring at the floor.

His name was Mitth’arare’nuruodo, Favored Son of Csilla, and his duty was to the Chiss Ascendancy. No shame or dishonour could take that from him. With all of the intimate knowledge he had gained of the Sith, the Jedi and the dark heart of the Republic itself, his path was clear. They all posed an existential threat to his people and their way of life, and they must be destroyed. He drew in a deep breath as he considered the next facet of his scheme. How to make them do it for him?

[Sara]

I need a friend…

His footsteps were slow and heavy as the Sentinels escorted him along the corridor at his flank, one stopping to guard the way as he heard the thrum of his lightsaber behind them. Then he came face to face with Atris. The air in the room was heavy, hard to breath, she spoke and he listened. She told him that he was ‘better than the other one’, whatever such a thing was to mean, she spoke of freeing him of his burdens, of returning him to his ‘true self’. Then he felt it, a thud in his chest that drove him into the floor, first on one knee, and then both, a short-lived, brief scream that echoed through the hallways and chambers of the temple, a blinding array of lights as he swayed, reality fading to mind-numbing blur of ever spiraling insanity, as if tied to the rear end of a ship as it dragged him through hyperspace. Before… nothing. His eyes blinked open, staring up at Atris languidly before his gaze fell upon his left hand, moving the metallic digits in turn, noting the movement, but feeling nothing. He could no longer sense the presence of the Sentinels standing vigil, could no longer feel the oppressive swell of Atris’ presence.

She knelt before him and he met her eyes once more, feeling a… warmth from her, a reassuring presence as from one’s grandmother. A frown crossed his lips as she leaned close and whispered to him.

---

He awoke in a cold sweat once more, cursing under his breath in his native tongue, reaching to push back his slick grey hair before lifting his head to stare through the darkness at the girl in the corner, squinting to himself as indecision racked his brain. The Chiss steadied himself and cast his mind back once more to his training at the Academy.

"One who’s path has taken a new turn is often initially disoriented, but as time passes, and the path continues steadily in its new direction, there is a tendency to believe that it will remain so forever, with no further turns. Nothing is further from the truth - a path once bent is always susceptible to new changes, particularly when the original change came from manipulation by an outside force."

A wisdom he had held close to himself through the most trying of times, the most disorientating of paths, one oft manipulated by outside forces. Truly this is what he had been trained to do. Perhaps Atris was right, the Force had warped and manipulated him away from his true self. He had long since abandoned his mission to the Chiss people in pursuit of his own goals, the pursuance of selfish ends. Though, he had become strong, knowledgeable. Indeed, knowledge that might bring ruin to an Empire, or a Republic. As he stared up at the cold, blackened duracrete ceiling he pondered if that was the true reason they put him here…

[Sara]

"Worthless, empty, searching, hatred"

"What a grand and intoxicating innocence, do you really believe you have what it takes?"

The venomous words echoed in his mind as he slumped against the wall, closing his eyes over with a low growl. A righteous fury burned within his soul, yet to unshackle it as he had done before required something else… someone else.

"You weren’t good enough before and you aren’t good enough now."

A shrill, malicious cackle accentuated the barbed words as he lifted his head, opening his eyes as he looked around the cell. Donzo, Cassidy, Laurana and… the other One. None of them deserved to be here, truly, not if he did. The sort of malevolent dungeon that could contain him surely was not to be the home of these people too. Some of them were quite pleasant in fact.

"They don’t know who you are, what you are… none of them, not like I did."

A short laugh escaped his lips as he shook his head to himself in the corner. Maybe not. He would deliver them from this place… but to what end? Truly he had no plan beyond the front gate, but he didn’t expect to see any red lightsabers coming to free him.

"Look at you, weak thing, crumpled in the corner. There is simply no way…"

"And neither could you." He growled under his breath at the voice in his head.

[Sara]

"People couldn’t believe what I’d become…"

A figure garbed in rags weaved through the crowds of Veles Spaceport, head down submissively as he passed by some well-to-do folks who did their best not to acknowledge him, another listless refugee passing through ahead of the recent Sith advance. They had larger concerns, their own concerns, with fresh shell craters marking yet another skirmish between the stalwart defenders of Viscara and the invading Sith forces. Things didn’t seem like to improve.

The trails of the vagrant lead him to Jim’s Cantina, sliding in through the doors with a reserved nod to the guard before making his way towards the rear of the room, standing by a news terminal as he lazily perused it, his attention taken by a group of giggling girls in the corner dealing cards as all in attendance drank their woes away. The metal digits of his left hand trailed along the terminal before he disengaged and left the establishment as quietly as he had entered, a few well-dressed socialites tutting at his disheveled appearance as he passed them by, twisting away as not to have their sensibilities further offended by his presence.

He walked through the markedly less bustling market and entered the back alleys, narrow pathways between towering structures, factories and Czerka offices, where nestled in amongst the refuse and abandoned cargo were the lean-to’s and shanty structures of the refugees, war-weary faces rose to regard his presence as he walked by them, some smiled, some stared envious at his boots. All looked desperate. A desperation not altogether unfamiliar to him, one he had seen on many planets of the so-called Grand Republic before making it back here.

Upon rounding the next bend he stopped dead in his tracks with a low grunt as two armed men stood over a woman and her child. The taller one, a dark-skinned Zabrak with a few broken horns atop his head aimed his blaster at the human, who hugged her son to her side and raised a hand to shield her face, sobbing uncontrollably.

"It ain’t hard, just hand over the kid and this won’t need to get ugly." He barked at her, though when his words only make her plead and sob all the more he tried to grab the child himself, struggling with her as his accomplice turned to the raggedy man. He was a handsome Mirialan with a slew of black tattoos on his face, his hair shaved into an undercut and slicked back on top.

"What ya lookin’ at buddy? See something ya like ya sick pfassk?" He asked with a laugh, pointing his blaster in the man’s face.

"I’m not looking for any trouble…" He murmured under his breath, his focus not on the gun in his face and the talking Mirialan but the woman and her child. She was dirty, the woman, not the child. It looked as though she had managed to keep her daughter clean, even in this place. She didn’t look hungry, either, not too skinny, healthy enough even, though her cheeks were a rosy red with tears, her curly auburn locks hid her eyes from the horrors before her. By contrast he could tell by the look on the mother’s face that she was anything but, by the way her heart beat in her chest, the languid flow of blood to her extremities did not bode well for…

"HEY!! I’m talking to you, moof-milker, get the kriff outta here before I decide to put one in your knee and make you homeless and a cripple! Hah! Haha!"

"No… No, I don’t think I will."

The Mirialan grimaced, there was a flash as a blaster bolt rang out in the alley, but the ragged vagrant was faster. His hood flew back as his robed form bent like a reed, twisting out of the way of the blaster as his hand reached for a vibroknife. Before the thug had time to fire a second shot the wicked, whirring blade sliced cleanly through his wrist and sent his hand flying up into the air still clutching his weapon. His crimson gaze looked past the screaming foe in front of him towards the Zabrak who began to twist around to face him. Before the Mirialan’s hand had hit the floor he caught it mid-air and squeezed on the still-warm finger, sending a bolt clean through the Zabrak’s eye as he stood motionless for a few seconds before dropping his rifle between his legs.

"Aauhh… m-my kriffin’ hand… AAAAAHHHH!" The emerald skinned thug began to scream before being swiftly silenced by a pistol whip to the side of the head, blood and broken teeth flying across the duracrete as the Chiss inspected the blaster in his hand, upturning his lips slightly before stashing it within his robes.

The woman huddled between two dumpsters as her assailants bled in the street, looking between them and her would-be rescuer, the gun in his hand, wondering if her ordeal was not yet over. He ran a hand through his stark white hair, slightly shaggy and greasy, pushing it back out of his face as he knelt next to the human and spoke softly.

"Tell me… is this sort of thing common?"

"Y-Yeah… their gangs been taking people more and more, and other things…"

"I understand."

A small crowd of refugees had started to gather about the scene, a few brazen enough to start looting the fallen bandits as the victor spoke with the victim. After a few more hushed words he rose to his feet and turned to address the crowd, his arms outstretched as the sleeves of his robes rode up over his wrists.

"For too long have the people been ignored, too long have these ruffians been allowed to roam our streets and prey on the weak and vulnerable. Too long have you been abandoned by those who claim to protect you."

His words carried through the small mob, the looters even pausing in their tracks to give him consideration. Some nodded in agreement, others murmured in discontentment, though none rose up to say he was wrong.

"The Republic flags and flails, the Jedi have lost their way and we all flee the murderous Sith, biting at our heels and driving us from our homes."

The rhetoric seemed a touch more effective, more seemed in agreement with him as they shouted out curses about the damnable Sith and the war. The Chiss thrust a finger into the air and then balled a fist.

"And here, the price of ‘safety’ is the boot of Czerka on your neck and the lives of your children given to these slaver scum!"

"H-He’s right! They wanted to take Sara away from me!" The mother spoke up, clutching her girl by her side.

His gaze drifted towards them once more, a touch of warmth and a smile gracing his hard features as he nodded a few times, extending a hand towards them as an example.

"The People must stand up for what is right, for what is just. And this is not it…" He spun, gesturing towards the squalid conditions they all lived in. "This is not it…" He repeated before turning back to them all, many more faces enamored by his speech. He looked down at the two outlaws on the ground and then looked back up at a few young men who had been looting them, raising a brow as he spoke up again.

"They need to disappear, but not before this one tells us where their hideout is. We will put an end to this menace one and for all." He stated authoritatively with a kick to the Mirialan’s side, refugees moving to drag them off as he followed along to carry out the interrogation.

[Sara]

"I miss you all the time…"

The roar of the crowd around him was barely audible over the loud, heavy, repetitive dance music that seemed to have been playing on repeat for the last six hours. His head spun as he turned away from the bar with another drink in hand, catching the eye of a Zeltron as he gave her the look, a laddish grin with a glint in his eye, then a sly wink. She twisted away from the drunken Chiss and went on her way, prompting him to look on after her with a shrill whistle as she shook her head to herself.

He bumped his way through the crowd over to his corner booth, swiping his arm across the table to clear a pile of empty glasses aside as he slumped onto the sofa, a bout of hiccups overtaking him as he sat with his drink in hand, gaze panning across the floor of the club as the music pounded in his head. Then, without warning, his attention was captured by a dancer from across the room. He couldn’t stop his jaw slipping slightly as he watched her weave, her shiny hair dancing about her shoulders with each movement as she spun and whirled. He felt an abyss open beneath him, as if to swallow him whole as his jaw tightened, his expression twisting into a sneer before being, perhaps mercifully, interrupted. A joyous Twi’lek waitress arrived with a tray of shots. He couldn’t hear her, or wasn’t listening. Either way, he took two from her and tossed a slim stack of credits onto her tray, seeming to pacify her as she left, he immediately tried to find the human dancer that had so captivated him, but she was gone.

His cybernetic left hand went to grab each shot in turn, slamming them back mercilessly as a dribble of strong liquor dripped down his chin. He stared down at the table, drifting in a melancholic haze as all he seemed to be able to think about was her. Her hard gaze, cold sneer… and the warmth of her smile, the timbre of her laugh. The shots had clearly taken a toll on him, a heavy one. Bad vibrations were all around him as he rose from his seat again, the room spinning while he tried to focus. He raised his glass to take a gulp in an attempt to steady himself but it only ended up turning his stomach, the colour draining from his cheeks as he placed it down on the table and quickly made his way towards the exit, weaving and swaying through the crowd with an increasing sense of urgency.

The dry heat of the desert hit him like a wall as the doors slid open, advancing out into the sand and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air as he straightened up with his hands on his sides. A Gamorrean made an off-hand comment to him and started chuckling a guttural pig’s squeal of a laugh. He ignored the words, largely because he hadn’t heard them clearly, if at all, his head throbbing in the front as he raised a hand to massage his brow, placing one foot in front of the other as he continued to drunken stagger through the quiet streets at night, whipping his hood up half way down as he leaned against the corner of a speeder 'shop.

Every time he looked up he thought he could see her dark cloaked form watching him, each time he turned he could swear he saw her darting out of his peripheral vision. Whether it took minutes or hours is largely lost on him, yet eventually he arrived back at his ship, crawling up the ramp on his hands and knees to enter. The room inside spun uncontrollably as he slowly moved towards a wall, kneeling up against it and leaning his head against the metal with a soft whimper. He remembered the times they spent together like this, those quiet times. His hands slid down over his knees as if to reach out… but they were cold, so cold… strangely his left one, too. In the hold of his ship he began to cry, his form gently rising and falling as he sobbed against the wall, tears flowing down his cheeks freely.

[Sara]

"I wanna bewitch you all night"

Sararen ran a hand through his sweat-slick hair as the last person left their makeshift headquarters in the backstreets of Veles, turning around to behold the barren, empty room where once there had been stacks of clothing, equipment and food from floor to ceiling. In less than a few hours a swarm of refugees and vagabonds had displaced what had taken months to procure, though he couldn’t help but shake a sense of supreme satisfaction to see their work finally begin to bare fruit.

"Well, that should just about do it." He announced to his volunteers, dusting off his gloves with a smile.

"Huh?" A voice called softly from the backroom.

"We’re all done then? Good thing too, I was running low on medical supplies." Another chimed in.

A loud snap resonated through the emptier hallways as some of the industrial lighting was switched off, the duo emerging from the backroom. A huge, burly human with dark dreadlocks and a warm demeanour flanked by a diminutive alabaster dove of a woman, her pointed ears twitching lightly as she reached up to brush some of her plaintive snow white locks back behind them.

"Really? I’ll need to see if I can’t get a hold of doses of that vaccine for the next time."

"You know there’s alternative treatments. For example, did you know that most common deworming medication will treat all manner of parasites and viral ailments?"

"Yeah I think you mentioned that before. I took some when I got bitten by a womprat, once…"

A little huff preceded her question as she interjected, "Plans for the weekend?" looking between the pair of men with a tired expression.

"Oh, nothing exciting really, just the usual training, meditation. I might go and relax by the lakeside."

"Mmh, very good. I had heard talk on the streets of a Masquerade Ball being held at the old Fosz estate."

"Mmm… me too. But you know who’ll be there?"

"But of course." He flashed a wide, devilish grin at his companions. "All the more reason to dress to impress."

She sighed wearily and shook her head. "I don’t think I’ll go."

"Ahh, me neither bud. Not really my scene."

He rolled his eyes at them a bit at the both of them. "You two should be boring together." He teased with a wide grin as they exited the building together, a heavy, dark hood drawn up around him as he moved to part ways with them, waving back. "I’ll speak to you both again soon. Until then, stay safe."

"You too, Sara."

"Force be with ya, bud."

---

Crimson eyes peered out from under his robe as he paced the streets of the fledgling city at night, the skies busier ever since the taxi service came into widespread usage, the building reaching ever taller into the sky. Czerka Tower no longer dominated the skyline in the way it once did. The rain slick streets basked in the neon lights of the signs and adverts for all manner of Czerka products, gambling dens, pharmaceuticals and weapons. Then he spotted it.

"The Masquerade HATH returned!"

Confirmation of the antecedent ball before his very eyes, a flamboyant banner detailing the invitation of to come along at the behest of the evenings host, Hallis Ween. And she would be there, of course. A shiver crept down his spine as he stared up at it, a sense of deja vu, perhaps, or something else entirely.

In any case he wouldn’t be outdone in the fashion department. He lowered his hooded head once more as he kept on his way, smiling to himself as a concept began to formulate…

[Sara]

"Gold"

As he knelt in the blackness, the unnerving silence of the sealed chamber, all he could feel was the writhing, swirling rage yearning for an outlet. He would’ve torn that young, budding flower’s throat from her with his teeth were it not for the blade of retribution held to his neck, how lucky she had been. And even in this confined space he could feel the overbearing presence of those down the hall, itching for an opportunity to let fly their blades and tear him limb from limb. No, there was no room to manoeuvre here. Just then, his train of thought was interrupted by a few light knocks upon the door, the echoes carrying through the room briefly as he sucked in a deep breath and lifted his gaze towards it, a soft, sorrowful voice weakly calling out to him…

"Hello…?"

---

Sararen exhaled sharply as he opened his eyes and roused himself from his daydreaming remembrance, his light jacket soaked through by the rain, though as he gazed out over the waves the heat of the morning sun breaching it’s way through the clouds stung his eyes, lifting a hand to shield them from the thermal spike. He couldn’t even remember what they spoke about, but he remembered what he felt, disconnected as they were, two strangers speaking through a cold, durasteel door. Yet somehow, like two kindred spirits united in that moment. He remembered the tears. Not that he was prone to regret, but to be with her… in stark contrast to the other, struck him with a severe sense of sorrow that he hadn’t been able to do things differently, what could’ve been, the paths untrod and undiscovered.

A shiver ran down his spine as he reached into his jacket pocket and fished out a small, onyx skull ring with a short wagging tongue, rolling it in his palm to read the inscription etched upon the inner band, ‘With words forge worlds.’ with a thoughtful hum. His datapad beeped and vibrated by his side with a never-ending stream of updates, prompting him to raise a hand to rub his rain-slick brow as he slipped the ring back into his pocket and reached down for the slate, wiping the screen clear before starting to read through the latest reports.

[Sara]

A chill runs down your spine…

A low growl escaped him as he took a knee on the hard rock, reaching down for a pair of macrobinoculars to take a closer look. He scanned the ridgeline from east to west as a voice chirped in his ear.

"The captive told me it was in the south-western quadrant of the mountain valley."

"So it’s close to the Vellen and Camp Hope?"

"No, not quite that deep…"

He murmured into his helmet, squinting as he snapped the binos back to take a closer look at something, stepping up another zoom notch as he flashed a grin to himself.

"I think I see something…"

"Mhm."

It wasn’t much, though he noticed the heat venting from a port recessed into the rock, nearly imperceptible to one who didn’t know what they were looking for. He tracked it down the rock but saw nothing.

"A vent… must be connected to something below it. I might have to go in for a closer look."

With a low hum into his comms he stashed the binoculars and assessed the descent before him before leaping off and burning his jump pack close to the bottom to soften his landing, rising up from one knee as he glanced up and down the deserted valley. His hand slipped over his belt as he activated his stealth generator, disappearing from the visible spectrum as he made his way across the open ground between him and the base of the vent. As he got closer, he could see that there was an outcropping of rock that shielded a small pass in-between the mountainous terrain, sticking close to the walls as he preceded up it. After passing through a short, dimly lit tunnel with ill-maintained orange lamps on some of the walls he saw more vents, pumping hot air out from below, then he saw the door. A great, rusted gate set into the side of the mountain with a pair of banners dangling in the wind by it’s entrance, a deep red on a darker brown background, that seemed to give the impression of a mynock in flight.

"That didn’t sound silent."

"It’s quiet out here… but I’ve definitely found it…" He spoke softly into his helmet so that his companion could hear.

"Alright."

"There’s a huge metal door below the vent I spotted in the mountain, must be it… they’ve got flags." He observed a while more, hugging the wall tightly before turning to look back. "I don’t have any cover here, but I saw a pass that leads up above it. I’m going to find a vantage to watch from."

He circled back out through the tunnel, letting his stealth generator cool down as he made his way around to a narrow pass that allowed access to the ridgeline above the base, through required one to go some miles around.

---

"What kind of flags?"

"They’re uhhh… kind of a muddy brown with red… mynocks, I think."

"Meh, something behind those?"

"I dunno, maybe you could look it up… I’ve got quite a hike. Weilliln was investigating slavers on Kashyyyk… that’s only a few jumps away."

"I meant literally behind the flags."

"Oh… heh. Walls, and the door. Not much else. Minimalist entrance… I suspect the facility is dug into the mountainside for the most part."

He huffed into the commlink, his breathing heavier as he ascended up the mountain pass, step after step along a treacherously narrow stretch of rocks that acted like a natural staircase.

"What do you call a fish in a bowtie?" He huffed out jovially.

"Huh?" A silence permeated the comms as he kept on walking until she finally tried something. "A flat fish?"

"Sofishticated."

A loud groan of disdain out in his ears as he snickered to himself between grunts of exertion.

---

"Alright… I think this should be a better spot to observe the entrance from."

He crawled over to the edge of the ridgeline on his belly, reactivating his stealth generator as he lay prone and reached for his macros again.

"Did you try to look up anything about the gang?" He murmured into his commlink.

"Well, it’s not much, a mynock on a brown background…" He could practically hear her rolling her eyes over the commlink as she pulled up a datapad back at base and started to look into anything related to the mynock flag and the slaver gang, managing to find quite a bit with her technical knowhow and knowledge of the deep holo.

"Welp… seems to be a rising group out here in the Outer Rim. Well armed and uniformized. Taking jobs from slavers to assassins."

"Mmh… troubling. Though we’ll overcome them."

The large metal doors began to roll open, screeching loudly as they knocked dust and rust down to the ground, unveiling a dark garage area with a couple of guards lazily patrolling in their sets of polished, shiny brass armour, blasters slung by their waists as they waited expectantly.

"Think I’ve got something here… movement."

"Okay…"

A heavy transport vehicle approached the outcropping the shielded the tunnel and turned sharply before making the precarious approach, it’s sides almost clipping the walls before it roared up the ramp in through the open garage doors, one of the guards moving to open the back double doors of the covered truck and begin ushering out a fresh batch of prisoners, a sneer crossing the Chiss’ lips as he watched from his vantage. The other began to close the huge doors over again, a loud screech echoing through the pass as they shut over once more.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes. A transport arrived with a number of people in the back, bound in chains. I counted four armed men, two guarding the gate, two in the truck. Captive said there were beds for eight, ten at a stretch… looked like a fairly large garage in through the gate, I couldn’t see any more before they closed the door."

"Seems too little for a large garage… eight to ten of them to maintain that?"

"Well, large enough for a truck to drive in. I couldn’t see any other vehicles." He hummed softly as he inspected the rusted exterior. "I don’t suppose they built the facility themselves. Probably another abandoned mining station." He got up off his stomach and cleared his throat. "I’m about done here though. Going to head back."

"Alright."

The commlink clicked off as he made his descent down the mountain and back to base.

"Hrmph… really need to get myself a dropship pilot."

[Sara]

"Time goes by so slowly…"

Sararen swirled a glass of strong smelling jet juice as he stared across at the wall in front of himself, alone with his own thoughts once more. With all of the crazy women in his life and their ceaseless drama he’d almost forgotten about the original one and her inglorious end. Perhaps it would have been easier to take the revelation and move on if it had truly been her end, and not such a pitiful existence that she had been reduced to. He took a long drink from the glass, scowling as it seared the back of his throat on the way down, bringing it to rest on the arm of his chair once more as he let out a heavy sigh.

Perhaps, merely another victim of this war. Another romance unmade. A love destroyed. Two souls rent apart by the churning apparatus of state. At times she had been the only thing that kept him going, through the darkness and the pain, the hope that one day they might’ve been reunited, that he might’ve been able to save her from herself, that they might’ve been happy together. Now… even if it was what either of them desired, she more than likely only had precious few years yet to live… and she didn’t desire it. His heart broke as he stared down into his glass and raised it up again, sinking the rest of the noxious brew and pressing the back of his hand to his quivering lips as he forced it down.

Yet perhaps brighter horizons, if only he was able to hold them together. He had people now, and perhaps more to come. A community to defend, to provide for. A unifying purpose to bring them all together. A family to fight for. If only more of these aliens weren’t war-like savages bent on their own destruction, it might’ve been even easier. He sucked his teeth and picked up the bottle of jet juice from the floor and filled himself another glass, feeling his conscience scold him for forming such a thought, though things would be much easier if they were all just a little bit more like the Chiss.

It was something… but it wasn’t what he’d wanted. Though perhaps simply yet another thing to add to the list. Maybe one day he might find another. Hope was a good thing to hold onto. He couldn’t help but ponder on the words of his companion.

"Stop with this nonsense of destruction. Don’t become a monster. Be the man I know you can be… and, if you ask me… people do tend to like heroes the most… and you’d make a pretty cool hero in my opinion~"

Sara’s lips curled into a smile as he took another sip from his glass, wetting them afterwards as he let out a deep sighed and relaxed back into his chair, closing his eyes over as he finally began to drift off with the jukebox playing music in the background.

[Sara]

The Day I Tried to Win

A loud, long yawn escaped him as he rolled over in his bed, propping his head up and looking around the familiar room. Guns, grenades, bombs, loose electronics, his prized jukebox and a stack of containers reaching the ceiling of the vessel with all of the rest of his belongings in them. He hummed contentedly as he swung his legs out of the bed and into a pair of fluffy pink slippers, rising and pulling a dressing gown off a chair to drape over his broad, battle-scarred shoulders as he left his room on the ship with a stretch up, looking around as he paced the halls.

He passed giant, carved statues of heroic figures, men, woman, some with swords, others hefting the very world in their hands, great beasts he’d never even had the honour of facing himself, reaching down to scratch himself casually as his open robes buffeted about his ankles. His gait slowed to stare up at the great Revanite banners flanking either side of the main cockpit, a shiver running down his spine as he proceeded through them and sat himself down in front of a terminal, blowing a loud raspberry with his lips.

"Lets have another look then, shall we?" He asked the stuffed toy bantha sitting on the table as he went back to the same search from the day before, pulling up a hologram of a planet and it’s surrounding moons.

---

…Ruusan…
…REGION: Mid-Rim…
…SYSTEM: Teraab Sector…
…STARS: Hoth’s Brand and Petja…
…MOONS: The Three Sisters…
…ROTATION PERIOD: 23 standard hours…
…ORBITAL PERIOD: 335 local days…
…DIAMETER: 21,000 [kilometers]…
…ATMOSPHERE: [Type 1] Breathable…
…CLIMATE: Temperate…

He crossed his naked legs over one another as he browsed through the information before him with a low hum, bringing up an article on the native ‘Bouncer’ species. Green, furry, betentacled, reportedly mildly telepathic creatures who gained their name from their primary form of locomotion: bouncing off surfaces to be propelled by the winds. He blinked a few times at what he was reading before quickly pulling up the next planet, the holo display flickering and shifting to show the new world.

---

…Lothal…
…REGION: Outer Rim…
…SYSTEM: Lothal Sector…
…STARS: Lothal…
…MOONS: Two…
…TRADE ROUTES: Outer Rim trade route…
…ATMOSPHERE: [Type 1] Breathable…
…CLIMATE: Temperate…
…PRIMARY TERRAIN: Mountainous, Prairies…
…SURFACE WATER: Shallow inland seas…

He smacked his lips a little before yawning into the back of his hand again, humming thoughtfully as he pulled up another information source on a native species of the planet - the loth-wolf. He clicked his tongue a bit as the hologram shifted to display one of the creatures.

"Awwww, think they’d get along with you, huh?" He asked the stuffed bantha.

Sara rattled his metal fingers on the arm of his chair loudly before humming again and shaking his head, flicking to yet another world with a soft sigh.

---

…Scarif…
…REGION: Outer Rim…
…SYSTEM: Abrion Sector…
…STARS: One…
…MOONS: None…
…TRADE ROUTES: Manda Merchant Run…
…DIAMETER: 9,112 [kilometers]…
…ATMOSPHERE: [Type 1] Breathable…
…CLIMATE: Tropical…
…PRIMARY TERRAIN: Oceans, Rocky Archipelagos, Sandy Beaches, Verdant Jungles…

A scowl crossed his face as he stared up at the hologram, even in the blue-on-blue he could tell how much of the planet was covered in water, sending a shiver down his spine as he flicked through some more information nonetheless. Truly it sounded like a paradise world, with over a thousand known species of fish, and the same number of colourful birds, reptiles and inspects.

His eyes went wide as he brought up an article on the native ‘Blixus’, a giant predatory creature with a number of tentacles… why was it always tentacles? Said to be related to the sarlacc and and possessing a large maw with rows of sharp teeth which they used to finish off their prey after dragging them into lagoons. On top of all that they were half-covered in a hard, chitinous shell that protected their body.

"K’tah… it’s like a tench with armour. Definitely no good for you…" He gave the bantha a little pat on the head.

He terminated the connection and sat back in the comfortable chair, letting his head roll over the backrest as he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

"Then again, I imagine they eat Jedi too."

[Sara]

"I have lost the best friend that I ever had…"

Sararen smoothed out the creases in his black tunic with a heavy heart as he sucked in a deep breath and turned around, lowering himself into a kneeling position in front of a small, pale candle. His bottom lip quivered slightly as he reached out for a lighter and rolled the wheel, scraping sparks off the flint before the flame finally caught, lowering it it the wick and allowing the small light to take root.

His gaze lifted to the stuffed toy bantha sitting on the end of the bed, it’s shiny, life-like eyes staring back at him as he began to cry, curling his hands into claws around both knees as he started to speak aloud, his voice shaky, breaking now and again as warm tears ran down over his blue cheeks.

"It’s been a while, Sara… another year." He sighed out raggedly.

"I’m not even sure where to begin for you… maybe right at the start. Last time we spoke I was on the Sith Fleet." His lips upturned at the corners into a gentle smile as he reminisced.

"I was lucky enough to fight alongside the greatest warrior this galaxy has ever seen. They call him Revan… and my companions… there were other Chiss, Ozuth and Fein. Fein was so beautiful, I always thought she… that you might’ve looked like that one day." Blue lips quivered slightly as he took a moment before continuing on. "Then there was… Aiven, Skyva, Rissa, Sohma, Zenica, Nrrax and Kathea. I suppose there was a time when I’d hoped that I had found a home among them, things were good…" He sighed gently, shaking his head. "But it was not meant to be. I left at the instruction of our teacher, Xo and… well, they rather held it against me." He smiled towards the candle as hot wax dripped down it’s surface.

"I suppose I should tell you that my… gift was discovered there. Maybe you always knew I was special, but it took about twenty years for everyone else to figure it out." He flashed a toothy grin briefly, turning away before looking back. "Mmh… and Aiven, he was like you… but he used the Force to overcome the illness… to live a normal life. I’m glad to say that I think he and I finally came to terms, after a long time… it does warm my heart." He sighed softly.

"After that I found work as a Deputy for the colony of Veles, on Viscara, the planet that has rather… become my home this last year. Elyd was the Sheriff, a hard woman, but one I’d convinced to give me a chance - she saved my life from the vengeful Sith, and in return I did the same for her. They were good times. I often wonder how things might’ve been different if I had been a lawman rather than a soldier… but alas." He sighed whimsically and turned away with a wry grin. "Hope you don’t mind if I smoke." He joked as he slipped a cigarette out of a nearby pack and lit it up, rising to his feet as he began to pace the room in front of the burning candle.

"I suppose there were a lot of others worth mentioning." He took a long drag, blowing out a cloud aside with a smile. "There was… Gulliver, an enigma of a man to this day, but one who proved himself to be a fine friend more than once. Hareb, the Doctor… or something like that." He chuckled a touch. "Man saved me more than once after I’d managed to contract a deadly tropical disease out here." He shook his head a little bit. "Then there was… Genevieve, Elyd’s sweet but slightly crazy wife, and the best cyberneticist in the sector. Triss, one of the sweetest girls I ever met. Feya and Ira’dana… Markus, Kairos, Abigael, Sandra, Solomon, Weilliln…" He tightened his lips and frowned before pushing a smile through it. "I suppose there’s just… a lot of great people I wish you’d had the chance to meet."

A deep, weary sigh escaped the Chiss’ lips as he turned to stare off towards the wall. "Things really started to go downhill after that. I got into a spot of trouble for retrieving a lightsaber from the Sith - or so I thought. Everyone else rather seemed to regard the Sith as the true and rightful owner of the stolen lightsaber." He hummed thoughtfully, taking a long drag, exhaling through his nose as he shook his head. "But I put that right… then I wandered for a while, months really, trying to… find myself, who I really was, what I wanted… and well, I talked myself into joining the Jedi." A low growl escaped him as he snubbed out his cigarette and lit another right behind it.

"They never took me on lightly, of course… and even when they did, they never truly welcomed me into their number, they never truly listened, or tried to understand. They proved their ideology to be hollow to me. Perhaps… I had built up my own idea of what a Jedi… should be, and even back then it did not reflect what the Order itself has become in these past years." The Chiss sighed wearily as he sucked his cigarette in silence, the candle still burning down the wick as hardened wax started to pool around the base of it, covering his footlocker as he took a quiet moment to collect his thoughts. "Well… then I tried to leave, but they dragged me back in…" He growled out the last bit.

"They accused me of being a traitor to the Republic, of aligning myself to Malak." He scoffed lightly. "Far from the truth, but unfortunately things like justice and the truth are not prized by their kind. I found myself trapped on Korriban, a hellish planet of red sand and evil… and I only did what I had to in order to survive." He sucked his cigarette down to the base and stubbed it out as he exhaled a dense cloud of smoke, rocking the flickering flame of the candle lightly with his breath. "In any case, they finally caught up to me… not the Jedi, of course, they’re far too slow. No, the Sith caught up to me on their behalf. Truly their hypocrisy knows no bounds…" He grit his teeth a little bit as he looked down at the candle. "They inflicted a punishment worse than death on me, then left me to rot in their dungeon - but that didn’t sound very appealing to me… so… here I am." His lips curled into a thin-lipped smile.

He got back down on his knees in front of the candle, resting his cybernetic hand atop the footlocker as he closed his eyes over. "I suppose that’s most of the news. I went to a planet called Lothal recently… there were talking dogs, I think you would have liked them." He extended his other hand to wipe at his cheeks and eyes a bit, smiling at the candle as it continued to burn down the rest of the way.

"I’ll always love you, Sara… I hope that wherever you are, you’re happier now."

[Sara]

"This is the end…"

Sararen staggered into the wall of the corridor with a dull thud, neck rolling to as he looked down at the last fallen guardian, the thrum of his lightsaber quietened, though it had been paid for in blood. The blood-stained blade fell from his hand with a shrill metallic clattering piercing the deathly silence of the enshadowed vessel as he began moving forwards with a shambling gait towards a closed door.

Suddenly, a movement, one of the guards yet lived and stirred, reaching for his lightsaber. Alas, the blade sparked but did not ignite. The Chiss turned on his opponent who drew a short blade from his belt in a flash and thrust for his exposed back where his armour had been carved open. Sararen twisted, sucking in a breath as the Jedi went wide of him, moving quickly to strike the wrist and disarm him, the ornate dagger tumbling through the air before the Chiss caught it in his other hand and thrust up into the guardian, arm slipping from his wrist to his shoulder as he gently laid him to rest upon the cold floor of the nameless freighter, returning him to the Force with his own blade.

He breathed again and pulled away from the fallen Jedi, stumbling and falling onto his back in the central hallway where some of the fiercest of the fighting had occurred, a few more dead lay around him, expressionless as they had been when he had seen them unmasked. He swallowed, his throat dry and lips cracked as he gripped a control panel and hauled himself up on to his feet again, squinting in the low-light towards a closed corridor. He approached and moved through the door, hastening as best he might despite his wounds down the hallway before finding an escape pod. His vision blurred as he slipped into the craft and engaged the release, collapsing into a seat and holding on as if for life itself as the g-forces took him, quickly blacking out from the pain of his wounds as the adrenalin of battle faded.

---

He awakened to naught but the light of the most distant stars in a black morass through a small, heavily reinforced viewing port on the side of the pod, his expression tightening as he felt the throb of pain shoot through what felt like his entire body, reaching up to remove his helmet, the flickering display had long since given up and he couldn’t check his vitals, but he looked down at himself. Right leg had seen better days, they tore the armour clean off and a fair chunk of his knee along with it. His left arm… what was left of it anyway, battle-scarred with a cross pattern over the bicep. The good thing about lightsaber wounds is that they self-cauterize, he thought as he winced from the pain as he inspected his arm, the cold metal digits of his left-hand writhing as a phantom pain ached through a limb that was long since gone.

With grit teeth and sheer will he dragged himself up and approached the small computer and storage module present on the four-person craft as he drifted through the endless void, riffling through various supplies until he found medical supplies, quickly breaking open a kit and applying a cooling kolto mist from a handheld spray onto the worst of his injuries, binding them with clean dressings thereafter. His hand gripped the edge of the console tightly as his breathing quickened, the pain crawling up his spine and gnawing at the root of him. Sararen lifted his head to stare out of the viewing port, squinting through the tiny window as a dim, glowing red star seemed to draw his gaze, it’s gentle blinking barely perceptible as it shone there serene, resolute and still. His head fell back down towards the box and he searched through it for some painkillers, crunching them down with a groan before going for more mundane supplies.

---

His keen red gaze danced along the edge of the exquisite blade as he carved another mark into the wall of the shuttle, a high-pitched shriek as it bit and tore into the metal. It was unlike any he had ever seen before, the craftsmanship was masterful, a pattern among its surface that didn’t seem keen to reveal the depths of its secrets in the dim light of the escape pod, an ever-shifting unknowable series of patterns and half-images, perhaps it told the life of the Sentinel who bore it. Perhaps he had never been defeated in combat. His lips upturned into a grin momentarily as he finished carving the mark. The twenty-ninth of them. His stomach growled at him and he growled back under his breath, rising from a low squat to assess the situation. Even with strict rationing there was no way he could survive more than two more weeks with what remained, tightening his jaw as he reached for half a dry cracker and began to chew it over slowly, savouring each mouse-like bite as he reached up to brush silvery hair from his eyes, turning his attention towards the console. A transponder that he could certainly use to call for aid… but he had been that stupid before, that’s how he ended up in this mess. He ground his teeth as he disintegrated the measly snack, weighing his options to the contrary.

With a decisive thrust he activated the beacon and quickly punched in a communication code for the Valerius’ Ascension, smoothing over his overgrown hair a little bit and straightening out his beard to a neat point as he stood at attention best he could muster for the holocomm as it flickered on to record his message.

"Kathea, I will explain everything but right now I need you to come to me, my life is in peril…"

---

The End.