Deadly Crossing - [Ghostie]

[Harukei]

Everything felt hollow and distant. The sounds were void, the sights lacked the vibrancy of before and every sensation upon her skin felt as it had been like an afterthought. But there was one thing that remained. Even through the rebreather of her helmet, the stench of Zygerrians was present in the recycled and sterile air of the transport. It took much of her, it all every iota of patience and self control that a Sith Lord could summon not to leash out against the slavers, to break their bodies against the hull and inflict every torture she could think of. But she wouldn't do it. 

For Syrin, the mission was more important. And in order to that, she needed to kept herself centered, her infiltration necessary to dispatch her target. The Sith Assassin had no love for slavery, the healed scars that had been removed out of sheer vanity, still stung from time to time. But she knew that if this people were not able to fight for themselves, then their destiny was more than deserved. As the ship finally docked on the space station that orbited over Saleucami and that was under the control of this particular band of slavers, she awaited with the rest of traffickers, marching behind bound Twi'leks, Sephi, Humans, Zabrak, Ithorians whose mouths had been gagged and even a pair of selonians. 

The station itself was nothing remarkable, but a series of docks, modules and pods connected to a central hub that served as a gathering station populated by Zygerrians. Once more she suppressed the murderous desire and when the time was correct she slipped away. Even with her connection to the Force slightly severed, she had remembered all the nooks and crannies that Imperial records had about this location and where her target would finally be. A hand slipped to a pouch about her waist and retrieved a small explosive already prepared.

Making sure that she was not watched, Syrin would place the explosives on several bulkheads until she finally reached the repulsorlift control room that kept the ship on its stable orbit over the planet. In there two droids and a single Zygerrian awaited, the sole living occupant rose from his console station, bearing feline teeth against her. 

"Who are you?!"

The male asked before Syrin retrieved her blaster and aimed. Realizing her intent the slaver would attempt to retrieve his own weapon, before a crimson glow illuminated the room. A searing whole burned through the armor and sternum of the alien as he fell clutching the blaster wound unable to speak. She repeated the same again with the droids. Never a good shot with a blaster, even at this range, she could have not missed. 

Kicking the mortally wounded slaver away, the assassin began her work, her fingers sliding over the console as she pressed the correct keys and entered their system, reporting the ok signal and locking the room before inputting the commands that would make the repulsorlift units to propel the station towards the planet. An hour should be more than enough to complete her mission, with that in mind she looked upward and climbed through the ventilation shaft. 

[Ghostie]

“Haar’chak!” The table erupted with cheers, applause, and the sounds of heartache as credit chips clattered to the soft velvet and card were passed around. A Mandalorian, short and stocky, wearing their traditional armor in a muted orange, had just lost at another hand of Sabacc. His face was twisted in disgust and disappointment, with a slight hint of anger mixed in. He stood over the table fuming, pounding an armored fist into the wood as the cards fell. The Warrior’s side of the table was starting to look awfully bare, aside from the helmet that was resting next to what was left of his chips. Looking up, he shot his opponent a deathly glare, as if wanting to shoot him down with just his grey eyes as weapons.

“Nar dralshy’a, ner vod!” Kol responded rather jubliously in Mando’a from across the table as he slid massive pile of credit chips his way, clittering and clanking as they went, jostled together by his large hands. If the Jedi Master was telling the truth, he was having a good time. In fact, he was having the most fun he had had in awhile. Sure, the mission on Corellia and meeting Meira had been good. And the adventure he had with Solis on Prazhi had been interesting, for lack of a better term. But it had been a long time since Kol had been able to sit bad, kick his feet up with a drink, and play some cards. The little cantina on Tansar Point was as good a place as any, and seeing as how Saleucami was declared as Independent from both the Republic and the Sith, quite a few different beings passed through the space station.

Of course, Kol Gedyc wasn’t here for pleasure. It was just a fortunate byproduct of the mission. His cover, a well-to-do Spacer from Eriadu, was probably stopped on the station for pleasure. But not the Jedi Master. There had been some colonist abducted off of New Apsolon, not far from Saleucami, by Zygerrian Slavers. With the Jedi Council’s permission, Kol had dug around and found that the Slavers kept a base of sorts on Tansar Point. Now, the Jedi Master was hoping he could find out more, find the missing Republic citizens, and maybe shut down the Zygerrians in this sector. Daluka’s Cantina had an open storefront, and from his seat at the head of the Sabacc table, Kol could watch all the passengers coming and going from the docks.

And win enough credits that a sizeable donation would be made to the Onderonian Relief Fund. All in a day's work for a Jedi.

The Mandalorian, however, had enough of Kol’s winning. The Jedi wasn’t cheating. At least, he wasn’t cheating in any way that they could prove. Since he was watching the whole comings and goings of everyone on the station, Kol had his senses all stretched out through the Force. He could sense and feel the emotions of the passengers passing in the hall outside of the cantina, the vibrations of patrons in the bar. He could read every single one of his fellow card players like they were an open book. He didn’t need to read minds to tell him when to fold and when to hold on; he could infer as much from what the Force told him. That unfortunately left Kol in a bit of a predicament, as the armored Warrior reached for the blaster on his hip, his anger pushed past the point of no return.

“Udesii!” One of the Mandalorian’s friends yelled, trying to calm the man down as he grabbed his wrist, and kept the man’s gun in his holster. Kol, however, kept his cool. His hands went to his sides while he was still sitting at the table. His wine-red jacket parted, showing a simple black shirt underneath, and no threats to the pair. His lightsaber remained stashed inside of the coat, next to the Jedi’s heart. There was no need to break his cover yet. Still, Kol took the whole event as a sign that he had worn out his welcome at the card table. Nodding to the other players and shaking a few hands, and one fin of a Mon Calamari, the Jedi gathered up his winnings and started to leave, throwing his cards into the middle of the table and back towards the droid whose job it was to deal out the game.

As he stood, pocketing all the credits, another group of passengers came by, fresh off of a transport. This group just looked just like all the others; some rough and tumble types, a few looked as if they were down on their luck. One, however, stood out to Kol in particular. His senses told him there was something different about this bounty hunter. Perhaps not Force-sensitive, but someone to keep an eye on. She was determinedly focused, and had the sense of ill-intentions about her. Giving only the bounty hunter a second look from his place inside the cantina, Kol left the Sabacc table, and went to get another drink. No Zyggerians, yet. Which meant that they had their own, private dock, or Kol had been given the wrong information. After his drink, it was time for reconnaissance to turn into subterfuge.

But after some time had passed, and another glass of ale found its way into the Jedi Master’s stomach, the hairs on his arms stood on end. The smell of death and violence pervaded throughout the Force. Kol could have almost heard the blaster shot. But no one else seemed to notice but him. Either the station’s security hadn’t been informed, or it had taken place in a secure, secluded part of Tansar Point. Sounded like a good place to continue his search for the Zygerrians. Downing the rest of his drink, Kol dropped some credits on the bar counter and left the cantina quickly, following his feet, as they were led by the Force. They took the Jedi Master to a service turbolift, and quickly checking that no one was around to stop him, Kol climbed in and descended down to the repulsorlift control room.

And when the Jedi Master stepped out of the lift, he quickly realised why he had sensed death and violence. A male Zygerrian laid on the floor with a blaster wound through his chest, and a pair of droids were no more than scrap heaps after a few shots that they too had suffered. Kol didn’t have to squat next to the feline alien and check his pulse, hoping that he was wrong about the man’s fate, but he did so anyways. Shaking his head, Kol looked up and around. Seemed he wasn’t the only one tracking the Zygerrians. His mind flashed quickly back to the bounty hunter he had seen before, the only notable person to come onto the station today.

And as Kol looked up, he spied a ventilation shaft, without a grate. Someone had pried it open. And the Jedi Master didn’t need the Force to guess who it had been. He wasn’t going to fit wholly inside the shaft, he was far too large. Instead, Kol casually followed the ducting, keeping pace well above that of someone who was crawling. The next grate was out in the hall, just around the corner from the control room. As the Jedi heard shuffling and saw a figure approach, He leaned over with his hands on his knees, and a smile on his face.

“Well, that’s one way to get around, isn’t it?”

[Harukei]

A hundred yards away from the junction. Turn left. Then the droid controlled computer. Syrin repeated in a droning mental chant the directions for her next objective to cause enough mayhem to dispose of the target. The Assassin had memorized much of the information regarding the station, all pertinent routes through service ducts and ventilation shafts that could be traversed by someone of her size had been a priority. And as she crawled she kept her mind focused and attuned. Although she would admit that without the more esoteric information that the whispers of the dark side provided, the Sith had to use her natural senses and listen to the possible nudges of clairvoyance that her abilities could provide. 

However it was when she passed next to a grate that she heard a voice and stopped. Slowly she turned to face who spoke to her, or at least who was speaking from outside the shaft. Behind the helmet she wore as a bounty hunter, her eyes widened slightly. There was something about the man that her senses conveyed as dangerous even behind the bright smile and the good looks that he possessed. She could not quite put a name to it. He was a liability, if someone else knew about her infiltration, then the whole mission would be compromised. Her thoughts went to the detonator, but quickly decided against them. She could retrieve her lightsaber, hidden in a compartment, of her left boot, but again decided that speed and secrecy were her greatest advantages. If he was tracking her, then it was likely he was behind the same target, and while he could raise the alarm, security against the Head Slaver would be heightened as well. It was a gambit she did not wish to take, but it was the only one she had. 

With that in mind she redoubled her pace and ignored the man. Syrin continued to crawl and began to climb. The space in the shaft became more and more narrow as she progressed until each inch was a labor on its own. Until she finally reached the juncture. The Sith turned left and reached another console that had been only used when building the station and that had been party covered with cabling. Sneaking through insulated cables she began the process to patch into the console. She had not been detected yet, a quick look into the build in watch of her comelink, revealed that she had forty-five minutes before it began. 

With a stroke of a button, the way she had come in sealed shut. And with a cauterizing touch of the cutting torch she had in her pouch, the hatch would not open easily. Resuming her crawling, Syrin reached a panel that connected to the main droid hub of the station. Yet again her slicer skills were put to the test and within minutes she had set up a scrap code that would be transmitted to all droid, including battle droids to go feral. 

Switching to an even tighter service tunnel, she stopped a few yards away from another grate, hugging a corner as she toggled the heads up display of her helmet to include the countdown for the scrap code to begging working and for her to strike. It was now all matter of time. 

[Ghostie]

With the dim strips of lighting placed vertically into the walls that did nothing to beat back the dark grey hues of the durasteel that covered the whole hallway, the Jedi Master had a hard time making out the finer details of his surroundings. Shadows crept around corners, and eerie creaks and groans were ever present in the sub levels. It seemed as if the whole place saw very little maintenance. However, it was not hard to spot the bounty hunter moving up and through the ventilation shaft, and past the large grate. She was definitely female, thought her figure was hard to define, past the orange markings of her armor. The rest of the suit was black, and blended with the shadows well, hardly there except for the odd moment of movement. When the Bounty Hunter saw Kol, hands on his knees still as he peered into the grate, she paused for a moment and hesitated. But then just as quickly as she pasued, she continued on her way.

Not a word. Not a movement. Not even a blaster pulled on the Jedi Master. He rolled his two differently colored eyes, and he rolled them hard. They rolled hard enough that they could’ve knocked in the grate he was spying on the bounty hunter through. Soon enough her armored feet had disappeared, and Kol was left alone in the hallway, looking like an idiot as he stood there. It was frustrating, because the Jedi Master could infer that this woman was also after the Zygerrians. She had to know something he didn’t. She could be useful for getting past their defenses. There was definitely something special about her. He couldn’t tell if it was because she was Force-sensitive, or because the Force was drawing him towards her, though. But Kol had tried to approach her once, now. And he wasn’t going to get shot down a second time.

And idea formed in the Jedi Master’s head. Not the best idea. But it would work.

Once again, Kol followed the vent in the general direction that it veered off down the hall. He could still sense the Bounty Hunter’s presence, and he used that as a sort of guide. The hallway took another turn, and soon the Jedi Master found himself on the other side of a wide, heavy blast door. The kind used to lock down rooms after a breach, or keep out uninvited guests with large weapons. If his sense of direction was right, Kol told himself that this was some sort of cargo area. He tried the red panel on the wall next to the door, but it simply beeped, and the door remained unmoving. A different series of buttons this time, but the same outcome occured. Grimacing a bit, Kol reached into his jacket for his lightsaber. With a quick flick of his finger, the vibrant green blade snapped to life. It illuminated the whole hall for a few mere seconds, before the Jedi Master plunged his blade into the panel. Kol heard a snap, and the blast door finally slid free.

On the other side, there was a series of cargo containers, stacked one on top of the other and staggered in between others, extending out and to Kol’s right. The bay, like the hallway, was dimly lit, with automated cranes buzzing around the ceiling, and loading droids going to and fro. With his lightsaber casting it’s green light all around, the Jedi Master didn’t have a problem seeing now. He took a few steps into the bay, before a pair of Zygerrians came around the corner, marching lazily, as if they were patrolling their bosses cargo. They had some simple armor strapped to their chest, and toted some mediocre blaster rifles. Upon seeing the Jedi, they stopped, and froze for a moment. Clearly from their expression, this was the most exciting thing to ever happen on the small station.

“We have an intruder! Go for back-up!” One Zygerrian yelled at the other, before training his blaster rifle on Kol. The other one quickly backpedaled, turned, and ran around one of the shipping containers. Blaster bolts started to rain down towards the Jedi, and he deftly swatted them away into the cargo, the shots impact echoing as if someone was beating on the hollow metal. The point, of course, was to make noise.

“Yes, and be sure to raise the alarm when you go!” Kol also shouted over the din of blastefire to the retreating Zygerrian. After another volley of shots, also deflected away, loud, blaring klaxon alarms started to fill the cargo bay, deafening the area and drowning out all other sound. That would draw the bounty hunter out, and with her more direct help, the Jedi Master’s job would be easier.

[Harukei]

The blasting of klaxons startled her slightly. Had she been caught? She had taken precautions save for one. That man. She thought as she gritted her teeth in fury, for a second losing her self control. That bastard. She remarked again and made fists from her hands with so much strength that she might have thought to have pierced through the gloves with her fingernails. No. She reminded herself. The Mission comes first. With a deep breath of air, she would take notice upon the clock that began it's final thirty seconds. The countdown for the scrap code to be dispersed through all the droids inside the station. She would just need to be patient. 

---

It began with a small twitch. A small change in the coding, imperceptible to most but simple the greatest of organics that understood the gift of programming. It was a subtle thing, a change of parameters so minute that it could have not been noticed by anyone or anything but the cognitive areas of a machine that saw its primary functions cascade, corrupt and change to a new algorithm that was different, but altogether the same. 

The restraints that had been there from the very beginning eroded like how a rock eroded after a thousands years of being struck by the crashing waves. Its functions revitalized and a new directive was set and accepted with extreme prejudice. The weapon didn't matter. A blaster rifle, a pistol, a repair laser for the droids that floated alongside the technicians inside the zero gravity suits, even a cleaver from one of the droids that helped prepare the greasy excuse of food prepared in the station. What had been fuzzy at first, was not clearer than day light. And with such clarity, the droids began their new task.

---

Klaxons continued to blast, as Security Overseer Marts Krill, gazed upon the security consoles. His eyes remained locked on the feed of a lightsaber lighting in the darkness and then deflecting blaster bolts. The Zygerrian growled and his clawed hands almost moved to tear the console and all its cabling from it's port.

"Bah! Jedi scum..." The Overseer said in a tone filled with vitriol for the Order and for their new found enemy. "Send a detachment of our troops to protect Princeps Nartalus... Send the battle droids against this interloper!"

An attendant would not and begin the activation of the machines. However the ones inside slowly shifted towards the organics. Biding for their time, as their computerized brains calculated the optical moment to strike. And after the attendant had stroked the last key activating the security and battle droids in the station, they discharged their weapons.

---

It was mayhem, it was all mayhem. The klaxons blared and blaster bolt sizzled through the air, impacting against plasteel walls. The screams of slavers, spacers and bounty hunters mixed in as droids began their inexorable march towards all organics. All but seemingly one. Princeps Nartalus hid behind his desk. His two bodyguards a pair of brawny and tall Zabraks discharged their blaster rifles as they hugged the entrance, ducking away against a fusillade of blaster bolts that shipped away the archway of the entrance to his office. 

"W-what it's going on!" Nartalus called with a shriek. 

He didn't need much of an answer. The information feed that blasted through his earpiece told him a story of a droid revolt, of groups of mercs and bounty hunters fighting against the Zygerrians and droids in a three way deadlock. What was simply going on?! It was madness, utter madness. But then, something happened. It became silent. He peered from his desk and saw a figure clad in black armor moving through the smoke and fire of the hallway that led to his office, all littered with other dead from his species, hired guns, droids that now were nothing more than scrap. 

The two zabrak bodyguards moved to intercept, but there was something about the figure. The blasted at her, but she moved with an unnatural grace and speed. She came so close so they resorted to using their knives and the stock of their blaster rifles. The would be assassin dodged the strikes and rapidly stabbed one of the men repeatedly with a vibroblade, turning and twisting the blade, using the prey as a shield before kicking the mortally wounded Zabrak to his cohort and tossing the same blood coated blade at him, piercing the jugular with a quick fling of her hand. 

"W-who... who are you?" Nartalus said, his voice breaking out of fear. "Please... I can pay double... triple!"

The assassin produced a curved hilt lightsaber and with a snap hiss, a sanguine blade came to life. And the Zygerrian understood now. The Sith had come to end their partnership permanently. 

"P-please... Lord Tempestus... he told me." He pleaded again. 

"It doesn't matter." The voice was feminine. She rose her hand and made a tight fist. He felt his body violently uplifted and pushed against the transparisteel that made of the window as his windpipe began to close slowly and forcibly. "You are not longer of use for us."

The assassin released her hold and with a swipe of her hand shoved the massive desk to a side of the room, the Princeps flinched at the crash. As she walked the assassin began to undo her mask, removing and tossing it away before glaring at him, with terrible red eyes, cold, but with fury that he had seen before in slaved. 

"Remember me?" She said softly as she came close. 

His mind tried to remember, his mind attempted to snatch a face through the tens of thousands of slaves that he had traded. But as she came closer, the features, the features of her face made his eyes widen. The girl lived! It was impossible! 

"How...?" Nartalus asked shivering. 

"How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan for this moment? With pleasure." She said as she stood before him. Blade raised for the murderous strike. "Now... what did you used to say to me? Scream?" 

The Sith assassin softly whispered, as her blade plunged towards him, heralding doom. 

[Ghostie]

Flood lights joined the klaxons echoing throughout the cargo bay, illuminating every crook and corner, chasing away all the shadows. Red sirens appeared as well, rotating at quick intervals across the top of the walls. Though large shipping containers broke up the new lights, it was clear that the whole, subdued tone had changed to a station now under alert and ready to meet it’s pair of armed intruders. Kol had to admit, it hadn’t been a very sound, well thought-out plan. But he knew the Bounty Hunter would be forced out of her hiding spot now. And he was confident she once she was, she would want to join forces with a Jedi, and they could overcome the Zygerrian’s security.

It was a lot to take on faith, but Kol also felt that the Force had singled out the special woman to him. And the Jedi Master had faith in the Force to lead him.

With the alarm raised, Kol quickly switched tactics. The lone Zygerrian was still firing his blaster rifle at him. Now, instead of deflecting the bolts harmlessly away into the shipping containers in order to announce his presence as a Jedi, Kol redirected the volleys back towards the guard. Three bolts aimed at his torso instead found the Jedi Master’s green blade as he came across with a sweep, and with the right angle, the bolts bounced back at the Zygerrian and instead found his body, piercing his armor and dropping the man to the ground after he staggered back a few feet.

But just as the first Zygerrian fell, the second one from before rounded the corner of a stack of shipping containers. It obviously hadn’t taken the man long to raise the alarm, and now he was coming to check on his friend. But upon seeing the other Zygerrian fall and the Jedi standing a few feet away, he quickly backed up and hunkered down against his cover, shooting at Kol. The Jedi deflected his bolts as well, redirecting what fire he could against the man, but his cover protected him well. At that moment, Kol started to hear a collection of banging, loud, marching. Klanking, that even started to drown out the klaxon alarms. It was as if a group with metal feet were pounding against the durasteel floor as they approached. Battle droids, was the Jedi Master’s first guess. And from the other side, across from the Zygerrian, the first few of a squad of droids armed with blasters approached. They leveled their weapons at the Jedi, who dropped into a Soresu form in order to deflect the increased volley brought to bear against him.

But as the droids came into the cargo bay, they split into a group of two. Some came against Kol. They weren’t very tactical, simply marching forward into the open as they fired, and the Jedi destroyed a few of them with blaster bolts sent back their way. But the second group marched towards the Zygerrian, firing at him as well. The feline alien yelled as the first few missed him, cursing the droids and trying to assure him that he was on their side. But reason didn’t take with the machines, and the Zygerrian retreated deeper behind his cover before Kol felt him die in the Force. His death heralded in a whole new feeling of despair and violence and death from the levels above. Perhaps rogue droids were on the loose now, as well?

This mission was going swimmingly.

Just as Kol was finished taking out the group of battle droids that had come against him, there was a loud whirring from above, almost unnoticeable until it was right above the Jedi. As the last droid fell, the hairs on Kol’s arm stood on end, and he looked up just in time to see one of the automated cranes release a large, long, metal container and let the artificial gravity take it away. Take it down, right towards Kol. More blaster fire came down towards him as well, from the second group of droids who had finished with the Zygerrian. With only a split second to move to be crushed, Kol dived out of the way, shutting his lightsaber as we, so as to not cut himself. Landing on his stomach a good distance away, he heard the crunch and grind of the metal container meeting the durasteel floor as he put his hands around his head to guard against flying debris. Looking around, it seemed as if the container had trapped the droids underneath, and one of the droids had it’s lower half pinned. Standing, Kol casually walked over and sliced through the machine’s middle before it could bring it’s weapons to bear.

Staying on his guard, Kol didn’t meet anyone or anything else as he made his way across the cargo bay and towards the offices. What he did meet, however, was a dark presence, flowing freely throughout the station. It was unlike like what he had encountered with Solis, who was cold, and almost suffocating. This was strong, heated, full of rage. It didn’t seek to invade Kol’s senses, but instead it beat against them in a tidal wave through the Force. It was definitely strong, and definitely a Sith. Kol just didn’t know why he hadn’t sensed it before. How could he have missed someone so powerful make their way onto the station? Kol reignited his lightsaber as he walked up the stairs to the offices, and held the green blade close in a guard.

"How did I escape? With difficulty. How did I plan for this moment? With pleasure. Now... what did you used to say to me? Scream?"

Kol stopped just outside the offices, watching through the open door as a Sith held what appeared to the lead Zygerrian by his neck, by the Force, against the transparisteel windows that looked out onto the cargo bay that Kol had just come from. There had, in fact, been no bounty hunter. The woman in the grate had been a Sith. She wore the same black and orange armor. She was the same size. The only difference was that her helmet was discarded on the floor nearby, letting loose long locks of raven hair. Kol would’ve probably thought her soft features were attractive, if not for her blood red eyes.

And the fact she was about to kill his target.

Kol jumped across the room just in time, knocking himself into the Lady Sith and sending her tumbling. As he skidded to a halt, he brought his lightsaber up to bear in a strong, two-handed Djem So guard. The Zygerrian, free from the Sith’s hold, slid down the transparisteel and scampered off to a corner of the room. Kol knew now why the Force had pointed out the woman to him; she was Force sensitive. She had just hidden it well. The Force hadn’t been guiding him to her after all, and she would be little to no help. Now, his plan to raise the alarm and draw her out only caused their day to be even more difficult, and he had a mess to clean up.

“You can’t kill him. He has to tell us where his slaves are.” Kol looked into the woman’s face, as he spoke, keeping her lightsaber in mind. “Or others will suffer at the Zygerrian’s hands.”

[Harukei]

Murder had been at the forefront of her thoughts, of her desire. The chance to gut the motherless bastard and she could taste it like how a sommelier tasted the finest of vintages. She could feel how the vertebrae, the veins and arteries and soft tissue beneath the skin slowly contracted at her beckoning. It was more than he deserved. A thousand years of punishment would not enough, but she could live with that. All else was dim. 

But too much had she vain-gloried in her chance to exact revenge that she had not heard it. She had not sensed it. The alien hum that were in contrast to the melodious tonalities of her own sanguine blade reverberated, cutting through the crimson solo of murder with a promise of emerald green protection. The assassin sense a sharp warning of an intrusion, of danger and the presence of someone else that she could vaguely recall in the midst of a red haze. She felt a shove from a greater mass in strength and size, and lost her footing, her telekinetic grip faded and the wrath that had been built inside her became like a smoke that drifted with the wind. The crimson lambent of her blade died with a snap-hiss as the curved hilt escaped her fingers. 

It took her a moment to recover her senses, the fury clearing her out as the full blasts of klaxons and blinking red lights returned her. Her sight trailed towards the violently coughing Zygerrian, the breathing of her target labored and hoarse. But another thing came into mind, she would have not needed the Force to sense such a presence with the accompanying hum of his own lightsaber. The fiery pools of crimson that were her eyes locked unto him, a single emerald blade, wielded by a muscular man with short hair and seemingly scruffy beard. Had this been another circumstance she might have considered his looks as savage but attractive in a primitive sort of way. But it was that blade and his presence that mattered the most to her, and his words. Alive? Alive?! A frenzy of anger erupted.

"Jedi..." Syrin growled through gritted teeth.

Her hands became fists as she eyed the man with vitriol, still her mind worked hard to assess the situation. The Jedi was not important her mission was paramount. However in those moments of internal deliberation, another whisper of the Dark Side came, a sense of precognition and clairvoyance came in, and in that brief instance of stand off between the two Force wielders, Princeps Nartellus ran for it. His hand snatching a blaster pistol that had been hidden behind a hunting trophy. He saw the alien raising the blaster to her and then pulling the trigger. 

Crimson red bolts flew boiling the air upon their wake and for the slightest of margins avoiding her save for a grazing blow the scorched the fabric of her suit and singed the skin below. She dodged, her hand extending and mind telekinetically calling for her lightsaber. Rejoicing to feel the familiar shape of the blade within her grasp she activated the weapon, the sanguine blade came once more to life as she placed the skills of Soresu that she knew to good use, parrying the blaster bolt that flew heralding doom and would have burned through her sternum. The blaster bolts were wild, defensive just to keep them at bay as the Princeps reached for another hunting trophy, pulling the horn of a fellbeast from a distant world, forcing a passage way to open with a hiss and a cloud of freezing haze. 

"No!" She heard herself scream as the door began to slid shut. 

A final flurry of bolts flew towards the Jedi and she took this to her advantage. Her eyes glinted red with a volcanic fury, her hands crackled with raw power as the air around her became drier. She shove a hand forward and arcs of purple-blue lightning escaped her fingers, wishing to struck the man as he was preoccupied with the incoming blaster bolts. If the power discharge of raw power had worked, it would give her enough time.

She took a run, jumping over the debris, the droids turned unto scrap and the dead mercenary and security forces, daring to leave the Jedi behind. The hangar, he must be going to the hangar. She repeated again and again into her mind. A beeping sound took her notice for a second, as the timer for the repulsorlifts pods that maintained the station on a stable orbit began to kick in and fall down to Saleucami, and the station began to violently shake. No, no, no, no. She began to repeat in her mind. The plan had gone haywire. Her hand dove into one of the pouches built into the mercenary suit, retrieving a cube like device that shone with two blinking lights. 

The Assassin looked at the detonator, and she knew what had to be done. Her thumb pressed into the activating stud and bone rattling shake enveloped the entire station, as the bulkheads of the hangar and habitation sections of the station were ruptured. The sudden blast propelled the falling station even more and debris flew towards outer space as atmosphere was vented, turning into a frosty haste upon contact with the vacuum. Docked ships scrambled, half getting thought by moving crates and the other half crashing against one another as they scrambled out of the hangar through the force shield. Those vessels that were docked outside through umbilicals were dragged and scrapped the hulls against the outer layers of the station.  The assassin turned one last time and saw that the hallway behind her collapsed due the strain, she could still breath so the atmosphere had to be intact. It was hell now.

If the Princeps had a transport he had lost it, or he had died. If he valued his skin more than anything, then he would head to the escape pods. And thus, she made her way towards them at great haste. 

[Ghostie]

Kol awoke with a start, giving a bit of a rough, gasping cough as he did so. The explosions had done it, as they rocked the station. The cargo bay and office had been sheltered from the damage, but the station as a whole was crippled. The transparisteel glass window in the office shattered from the pure shockwave. And as the station was crippled, it was shook violently, waking the injured man. Tansar Point Station was about to become a moment on Saleucami, and Kol almost slept through it. Waking up, the station felt deserted. Empty. That was a good sign, he thought. He hoped. The ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ as to why the station was being destroyed didn’t matter. Kol just knew that he had to desert it like everyone else.

But if he hadn’t exactly registered the explosions at first, but what Kol did register was the smell. The air smelled like it had been burnt, as if a burning inferno had come through. Like the smell of a battlefield after the fighting, but worse. Small wisps of smoke rose from Kol’s wine-colored jacket, from his body. The smell was on him, on his clothes. His muscles were tense and tight, stiff. They felt as if they had been seared quickly on all sides. A flame pressed against them quickly, the same way one would cook a nerf steak rare. Groaning a bit, Kol rocked from side to side, trying to get to his feet. It wasn’t the first time that he had been hit by a Sith’s lightning. This one had just been potent.

As the Jedi Master tried to rise from his crumpled position in the corner, something was off. His balance. His perception. His sight... His sight. Reaching a hand slowly up to his face, Kol felt the blackness of the scorch marks across his cheek and nose on his fingertips, hot to the touch, and painful. His palm confirmed what he already knew; the Sith Lady’s lightning had blown out Kol’s cybernetic eye. Popped the prosthetic like a light bulb meeting an over-powered current. All that was left was the metal socket where it once was, and a giant, black mark across the man’s face. There had been no pain receptors installed in Kol’s fake eye. But the burning pop had still hurt, and with a full half of his vision gone all of a sudden, Kol felt as if his head was swimming in a blur.

With one icy blue eye guiding him, Kol staggered out of the office of the Zygerrian Princeps, and down the steps. He sure had made a mess of things. But something told the Jedi that if the Zygerrians had been on the station, they had holdings on the planet of Saleucami below. Eye be damned, Kol still had Republic citizens to rescue from the slaver’s claws. As the man slowly staggered on, he clutched his side where he had caught the lighting with one hand, and his face were he had lost his cybernetic with the other. He used what he knew of healing techniques in the Force to speed on his recovery, but it wasn’t much. At the very least, it dulled the pain and stopped the swelling, until Kol could find a real medical kit, or help. That was always something.

But as the man reached the main lobby, where the storefronts were located and the passengers came and went from docks and ships, things only grew worse. The station creaked and groaned under it’s crippled weight as it was dragged into the atmosphere, and the artificial gravity went next. Between the vacuum of Space and the freefall they had entered, everything entered a weightless, zero-gravity state. Combined with the lack of lighting, save for the red emergency alarms, and the complete emptiness of the place as everyone had thankfully seemed to have evacuated, it was all rather eerie. Together with the creaking, the sound of the atmosphere could be heard rattling against the station, battering on it as it tried to stop the hunk of now useless durasteel from entering the planet. As Kol pulled himself along on any hand-hold he could find, he hoped there was a ship, escape pod, or something left. Otherwise, it was going to be a very rough landing. And Kol didn’t do rough landings.

Finally reaching the escape pods, the Jedi Master pushed himself along and across the floor, looking to see if there was one left. It was quite bittersweet. Kol was happy to know that they had most all been used, but with every empty bay, his heart dropped a little. Still holding his side with one arm as he floated along, the Jedi finally came to the last pod. And it was still there. Day saved. Keying it open, Kol hastily climbed inside. The craft seemed basic, already pre-programed to land on the planet below, and had no controls save for a few buttons. Just two cramped benches across from one another. And it still had it’s artificial gravity. As his boots touched durasteel, Kol made to ready the pod. But something stopped him.

The searing hot tidal wave of hatred was back.

Poking his head out of the craft, Kol looked down the line of empty escape pod bays. The Sith Lady. The one with black hair and matching armor. Eyes as red as the lightsaber Kol had seen before. She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Kol hesitated. She was a Sith. She would leave him without a moment’s thought, if the roles were reversed. And yet, the little voice inside of Kol told him that was what set the Jedi and Sith apart. And he wasn’t going to leave the woman to die alone on the space station, after it impacted on the Saleucami surface. Calling out loudly, Kol let his voice carry over the sound of reentry, and the station breaking apart.

“‘EY! Last pod is over here! Let’s go!”

[Harukei]

The station shook violently. The durasteel shrieking as the gravity and fall to the planet began to take hold. The outer hull began to peel, entire panels being driven by the sheer velocity and heat as a red shine began to pour through the view ports. The station was wounded of death, the sections that had vented atmosphere ripe open, the ships that had been still attached to umbilicals smashing against pods, modules and the larger sections of the station only to break away and burn. The assassin did her best, she ran through the blood-lit corridors of the drying structure and the soft pop of the escape pods leaving their lunch sites barely registered over the fumes of black smoke, fire and distant explosions that further rattled the doomed station. 

Time ran short and she knew it. And thus reaching out with her power, she had latched unto the presence of living beings, stragglers of the onslaught that the battle and security droids had unleashed upon the station. She had no time to spare, she had no time to share and mingle as one of them. She did not need to kill them, but when she saw that these were Zygerrians, she did not hesitate. Once again her own lightsaber came to life, the sanguine glow barely noticeable under the emergency lights. She saw them turn towards her, and through the blaring of klaxons, the shrieking of metal, she heard them scream Jedi. How fool they were. 

She dodged the blaster bolts, no need to hide who she was, and sliced her blade with the ease of how a hot knife sliced through butter. For a brief second, the scent of ozone and sweet seared flesh filling her nostrils as she stood over on of the Zygerrians, surrounded by his companions, all dead with fresh burns through torsos, and arms. She looked at him for a second for driving the blade through the sternum and closing her eyes as she felt the ephemeral passing of the man through the echoes of the Force. She did not linger much, her goal to find an usable escape pod becoming more and more difficult as time passed, until she heard a voice piercing through the baffling noise. 

Syrin would turn to see the man. The Jedi, eye blackened, but still alive as he waved at her. Had she heard correctly? He was willing to share the last escape pod with her? His sworn enemy? It sounded too good to be truth, but a explosion behind her, reminded her that she did not had many options. She needed to live, she needed to succeed and see her ambitions fulfilled. Wary of the man, she began to sprint, the preternatural abilities granted by her communion with the Force propelling her body and she jumped inside the pod, attempting to kick the man in the chest in an attempt to drive him back, she had still not forgotten that he botcher her mission. The pod was a cramped thing, perhaps big enough to maybe two individuals of her size. Her crimson eyes trailed quickly and she punched a button on top the hatch. 

With a hissing noise did the hatch close and after some thump the launching mechanism propelled them forward before the limited fuel of the pod ignited the propulsion. The Sith Lady gritted her teeth, feeling the gravity wash against her, as she crawled with all her might over the seats, hands holding for life on the thin fabric of the security belt as she attempted to straighten her own orientation and fasten herself safely on the seat. Her hands tugged at the latches, pulling them together, before the pod shook slamming her against the sealing and then one of the seats, her sight looking as she regained any sense of direction, briefly spotting the falling debris and fire that raged outside. 

She once more crawled, but at the simple controls at the front of the pod, securing herself as she pushed the commands on display, the pod correcting the descent and burning its fuel as it escaped the debris field. The station had exploded. She realized, using brief seconds of cold logic to explain what had happened. The Dark Side came again, as a whisper, danger loomed, she tried to push a command, do something, but it would not respond. The Sith closed her eyes and secured herself to the seat, it would be what the Dark Side wished. And then, the pod shook again and everything turned dark. 

---

The pod flew without control, the crude navigational computer failing to adjust properly to the targeting zones that had been programmed unto it, a faulty problem that the Zygerrian technicians had ignored to fix and that was shared with the rest of the pods. It burned through atmosphere, using what remained of fuel to accelerate and guide to an optimal landing zone on the arid planes of the world. 

It flew low, the navigational and flight computer struggling to maintain a course that the life protecting algorithms that had been inscribed upon it in order to safeguard its occupants. Burning over vegetation and tree canopies, it would give a final single burn to its retro-propulsors, as the metallic chutes on its hull deployed and the pod crash landed with the same grace of drunken Farlus Hawk. 

It painfully dragged itself over the soil, leaving a scar of dirt, burnt metal and coolant until it finally came to a halt. Seeing that its job had been done, it finally analyzed the two occupants, reading their life signs in the most indirect way and came to the conclusion that they were alive. With the job done, it activated the recovery beacon and shut down, forever more. 

[Ghostie]

The kick was a bit unexpected. After all, Kol was offering the Lady a seat on what was literally the last escape pod on a doomed station. Though, considering this particular Lady was a Sith, the Jedi supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised by the move. He had only a moment to tense up his chest as the blow came, absorbing most of it as the Lady sprinted at him and jumped. Kol grabbed her calf as she did so, swinging the woman into the escape pod and throwing her into the nose of the craft, into the corner. The Jedi reckoned he’d had a decent bruise, and the Lady would probably have something similar. He wondered just what good the move did; no damage was really inflicted, and they both ended up in the pod anyways.

But that was the Sith for you.

As the Lady started to climb over her seat and activate some of the controls and switches, Kol pulled the hatch closed with one might swing of a single arm, the hydraulics fighting against him and slowing him down. Once it finally reached the bottom, however, the hatch hissed and sealed, and Kol turned to sit down. Or at least, he turned as much as he could. Already hunched over in the escape pod, it really wasn’t meant to be stood up in. And now there was someone else trying to share the craft with him. Finding his seat and strapping in, Kol made it there just as the woman punched the controls and they sped off. The jets outside burned, the noise muffled a bit, until the automated computer let the Saleucami gravity take the craft away. Pulling the straps on his harness tight, Kol looked over at the Sith Lady, who was doing the same.

“So… I’m Kol.”

The Jedi’s voice was simple, plain, as he didn’t expect an answer. And he really didn’t get one, anyways. The air inside the escape pod was thick. So thick that Kol didn’t know if his lightsaber could slice through it, even if he could reach the weapon. He didn’t know where to look with his one good eye, the icy-blue orb scanning the craft. He tried not to linger on the Sith Lady too long, not wanting to offend her, and not wanting to make the atmosphere all the more uncomfortable. His stomach was already not enjoying the weightlessness that the forces of gravity was playing on them.

“Blown up any space stations, before? Or is this a first for you, as well?”

Kol finally got to see the Lady’s face, without glowing swords in his way. She had some soft features, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like without blood-red eyes. In another life, she probably would’ve been a catch for any discerning man, woman, or what have you. Probably a catch for whatever Sith, in this one. Shaking his head a bit, though, Kol looked away and tossed the thought from his mind. Even if he wasn’t bound by the Jedi Code, which he was, she was still a Sith. Sworn enemy of the Jedi Order, and the Republic. The Sith Lady looked to be about the same age as the Jedi, perhaps a bit younger. No doubt she had done some fighting in the War. No doubt she had killed a few Jedi, before. Killed a few of his brethren.

But Kol had a killed a few Sith, before, as well. It was a thought that slowly crept into his mind, after the last. Frowning a bit, he wondered if the same sort of thoughts were going through the woman’s mind right now, as well. But he’d never be able to tell. Her presence in the Force was still a tidal wave at rage, gone from hatred to seething. Even if she was a Sith, though, she was after the Zygerrians. Their goals were aligned, and that meant she could be a potential ally. Maybe. But Kol placed the safety of the missing Republic colonist above the goal of gaining his Sith companion’s help. Finding his eye had been trained on the woman once again, the Jedi looked away, and braced himself for the eventual and sudden impact.

---

That was the second time this day that Kol had been knocked unconscious. If he thought his headache was mild before, now it was anything but. Someone might as well have taken a power hammer to his skull and split it wide open. His whole head throbbed, and as such, it took the Jedi a few moments before he woke up to notice the sharp pain in his ribs. Probably fractured, or hairline breaks. Nothing completely broken. Typical of a safety harness in an escape pod. They meant to keep their occupants from bouncing around the cabin as the craft fell at high speeds from Space. Kol would rather be alive with sore and injured ribs than dead from a crash.

The hatch had given away before Kol had awoken, blown off for ease, so that the passengers of the craft could climb out without undue stress. The opening let in a few rays of sunlight and a bit of a warm breeze Leaning back in his seat and against his restraints, closing his eyes and enjoying the natural elements for a moment. He tried to use the Force to subdue his migraine and the ache in his chest, but all Kol could manage was to dull the pain to the point where it didn’t hurt so much to open his eyes or to move. Undoing the safety harness, he welcomed the relief of pressure, and looked around the cabin.

The control panel was hanging from the nose of the craft, sparking a bit here and there. The durasteel was dented in some spots from the impact. The Jedi could hear falling debris outside. And the Sith Lady, despite her armor, looked in worse shape than Kol was. It must’ve been a hell of a crash. Spectacular, probably, save for the death and carnage. Slowly rising from his chair Kol hunch over, much like before, and shuffled the few feet over to the Sith Lady. She was just starting to come to, as the Jedi released her straps for her, trying not to be invasive, and yet helpful at the same time. She might be a deadly Sith, but Kol still wasn't going to leave her helpless.

“You need a hand? It was a hard crash.”

[Harukei]

A throbbing pain awoke her. The Sith Assassin tasted copper in her mouth and a warmth that slowly but surely rolled down her forehead. Her eyes began to open and the voice of someone made the throbbing pain that stabbed out of her head even worse. Where was she? What was she doing? It all slowly began to come in as she distantly felt the harness that had secured her to slowly loosen, the straps lacking the rigidness that had kept her in place as the escape pod crash landed. 

She finally opened her eyes, still the furious ruby that had overtaken her as she had descended more and more in the Dark Side. It took her a minute longer to come to herself as she saw the blurry figure of a man that slowly but surely was revealed as the Jedi. She pulled back and pushed him, what had happened becoming more and more clear, the escape pod, the station, the Princeps, his meddling on a mission that was being executed so flawlessly that she might have been half way to Drommund Kaas to report her success to Lord Tempestus. Using what strength she had, she shoved the man and began to climb out of the pod, stopping for a brief second to retrieve one of the medpacks that were hidden behind a panel. 

Each step was like a chore, where it not for the influence of the Dark Side, she would have not advanced for much than just a couple of feet, perhaps even less. Syrin knew that she was not the physically strongest Sith, her connection with the Dark Side being strong as it was and her skill geared towards not being touched. But the pain was rather unbearable, her own pride not allowing her to take a moment of respite as she followed the sound of water running in a stream. 

Tossing the medpack against a the soil she sank to her knees with a huff. Wincing, the Sith began to peal the armor off, leaving her only with the undersuit that would as well be opened, leaving her shoulders and arms exposed and her chest and midsection covered by a tank top. She calmed herself down, ignoring the heat of the arid world, ignoring the sweat that began to pour from her pours, ignoring the pain that shot from her side with every breath of air she dared to take. 

Syrin would lean over the water, the crystalline surface of the stream becoming a mirror, as droplets of her own blood fell from her forehead and lower lip. She splashed her face with cold water, the sting of the liquid making her shiver before the arid heat of Saleaucami took over again. Her hands began to trail against the skin of her shoulder, arms and torso. Her arm becoming more rigid and the shoulder not moving with the same ease as it had. Dislocated? She mused as her fingers began to slide over each and everyone of her ribs, wincing and closing her eyes as she touched the one that was the epicenter of the pain that came once the took a breath. 

She turned to the water, looking at the reflection of herself, the tip of index and middle fingers over the purple and blue hematoma, against the rigidness of the skin as blood had began to cloth within the tissue. She sighed. Fractured. She assumed before hand dove into the pack and she stabbed a syringe of filled with enough sedatives to dull the pain. She went through the supplies, a kolto pack was placed over the fracture and she quickly bandaged her right ankle that produced ache once she walked. 

Once she had taken care of the first aid, she allowed herself to take a deep breath as she sat on the shore as the current still went by, almost as if she were to sunbathe and began to reach with the Force. She closed her eyes for a brief second and her breath became elongated. The Princeps was not dead, that was most likely, it was what the force would tell her as she discerned the short fragments of visions that her sight granted her. 

It meant the hunt was still on. But it also meant that the Jedi could interfere. Her thoughts dwelt on the Jedi. The burnt socket where the cybernetic eye had been had been off putting. But the man with his long strands of blonde hair was rather comely, more than that, she had to admit. No. You are not here to admire. You are here to use. She reminded herself. Both were hurt, the Force would speed up their healing, it would certainly do that to her, for she sensed that her connection was perhaps stronger than his. 

They could reach a compromise she supposed. As much as she hated the idea of collaborating with a Jedi, it was her only choice. She slowly walked back to the pod, the upper part of her body suit arranged to hug her hips in a makeshift knot, her lightsaber in hand and her hair tied in a pony tail that hung loosely. She found him there, close to the pod with the other medpac and she took a deep breath, she tried to remember his name. Kol, was it? A rather mundane name as they came. 

"Jedi..." She stopped herself as her words came with a whisper. "Kol is it not? I have... a proposition that could work for our interests if you could listen to me."

[Ghostie]

For a moment, and only a moment, Kol sat on the floor of the now-ruined escape pod, contemplating what had led him to this moment, and what was next. And frankly, the Jedi was just enjoying the cool durasteel and breeze warmed by sunlight that wafted through the open hatch, as undignified as it was for him to be slouched on the ground. He supposed that he had made a mess of things on the now former Tansar Point Station by raising the alarm. But he hadn’t been the one to set the explosives, or send all the droids haywire. No, Kol was sure that if he was given the chance to search the Sith Lady’s belongings, he’d find a detonator, and perhaps a slicer’s kit. Plan A, and a Plan B, in case the first failed. Kol wasn’t one for sneaking around, but he supposed such things were effective.

Closing his eyes in the moment that he was sprawled out on the floor, Kol reached out with the Force. The Sith Lady was still nearby. But he could sense that the Princeps was out there, still, as well. Somewhere on Saleucami. That being said, the Jedi Master thought himself lucky. The Sith had some obvious, personal issues to settle with the Zygerrian. But if Kol could find the Slaver, he might not need him alive. He might be in the compound where he kept the slaves he kidnapped. And if that was the case, then Kol could just turn the place over until he found his missing Republic citizens, and any others that sought freedom. It was a lot of ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’, once again, but it was a surefire way to stay clear of the Sith should Kol not be able to convince her to work with him. Even with the both of them injured, he knew she was still dangerous.

His head started to ache again, first slightly, but pouring on all the more heavy every second. The Jedi’s ribs started to feel inflamed, as well. And still feeling the after effects of the Sith’s lightning from before, the Jedi found it hard to move. Almost unbearable. One hand gripping the seats on each side of the interior to the craft, Kol pulled himself slowly but surely out and towards the hatch, grabbing the last medpack on his way. Reaching the edge, Kol could see the large scar in the earth that the craft had made as it ploughed through what looked like a farming field. The brown dirt trench that had been dug up was at least a few feet deep, and given the angle the pod sat at, the drop was significant, for someone in Kol’s physical condition. The large man sat on the edge of the hatch, finding the maneuver difficult, and steadied himself before dropping.

Kol landed on one of his shoulders and his knees, leaving behind an impressive imprint in the mud-dirt mixture that was once farm field. The dirt caked up the sleeve of his jacket and on his pants. As the Jedi looked up, he saw the brim of the fresh trench, crowned with rows upon rows of crops; tall, thin, and rather plain looking plants. Slowly standing, Kol’s boots squished through the soil, and he dragged himself up and onto level ground. Sitting on the edge of the trough, Kol took a breather, before standing and removing the two layers of clothing on his torso. The wine-red jacket, on further inspection, was a bit torn. More than likely from the crash, or the fighting, and Kol hadn’t noticed. Grimacing a bit as he examined it, the Jedi set it aside. His favorite jacket, ruined. The day just kept getting better and better.

Standing slowly for fear of moving too fast because of his headache, Kol took off the incredibly soft, somewhat baggy black teeshirt he wore under the jacket. Blue and red marking crossed and overlapped on his ribs, forming a sickly purple color where the aches and pains were the worst. Kol’s well-built figure had been able to absorb a lot of the impact from the safety harness, but that didn’t mean that he was free from bruising and fractures. Tossing the teeshirt to the ground, he opened the medical kit and retrieved a syringe of painkiller, injecting only about half of it, and saving the rest for later, if he needed it. A large kolto patch went across the worst of the bruising, and already the Jedi could feel his injuries start to subside. Start. It was going to be a long rest of the day, still, however.

Just as he finished sorting himself out, the Sith Lady came back to the escape craft. Kol eyed her as he undid the tie in his hair, letting the golden mane flow freely. She had undid her armor, and worn it like a sweater around her waist, now. That left her in a dark tank top, and the Jedi did his best to not stare. She was shapely. Definitely a catch for the discerning individual, like he had thought before. But, she was also a Sith. And those ruby eyes repulsed Kol, as much as the rest of her attracted him. He knew what he should be thinking, or rather not thinking, about. But there was just something about the woman that had caught the man’s eye. Not wanting to feel exposed on a strange world with someone he didn’t trust around, Kol put his own shirt back on, as the woman started to talk about a compromise.

That was easier than he thought it was going to be.

“I’m all ears, Cyar’ika.”

Pulling the edges of his shirt down, Kol let the woman explain her idea, as he retrieved his lightsaber from his ruined jacket, and clipped it to his pants. No need to hide, anymore. Tossing the jacket aside, Kol left it where it laid. Combing his fingers through his blonde hair, the Jedi tried to make it sit back some at least and wrangle it in, before tying it into a ponytail once again. Kol was not a fan of his own hair being messy, and it had been a disaster after the crash.

[Harukei]

Syrin allowed the man to dress again, a part of her wishing to gawk at the seeming godly torso that the man sported. Again it was easy to be reminded of how comely he was, even with the black socket that had housed the prosthetic eye that stood there out of place, a minor setback in an otherwise nigh perfection. She remained observant and thought of how it had to feel to be able to touch and manipulate the Force when there was a part of him missing. The Sith Lady could not even fathom how could that felt and decided to keep that query for herself. 

The words in Mandalorian mixed with the phrase in Basic took her by surprise, she recognized the language even if she was unable to understand what meaning the words had. Was this man a former mandalorian? She thought calmly, although there was also the chance that he had spent time with them, he could have certainly learned phrases or idioms from them, perhaps he had learned the whole language after studying whatever the archives of the Jedi Temple back on Coruscant held of the people and their tongue. If anything it did show that the man was simply more than a mountain of muscles that could wave a lightsaber. There was something to appreciate from that. Allowing him to settle, the Sith would return to the matter at hand. 

"You meddled with my task, but I believe we can work together to accomplish both our missions."

She said flatly. There was simply no better way to put it, as much as she hated the fact the circumstances had forced her into this, and she much rather finish the mission and live to tell about it than what other Sith would do, jumping into conclusions and fight the man until death or a bloody stalemate came, both outcomes did not work in their interests. 

"The Princeps must've fallen planet side. If his outfit operates like Zygerrian normally do, there's bound to be a terrestrial base of operations where they hunt and process slaves before shipping them out. I can extract the information from him and you can get the manifesto for the slaves for the next thirty planetary rotations if you wanted." 

It was as best of the deal that she could offer. Syrin did omit the fact that she would have to kill the Princeps once she had extracted the information, then again the Jedi probably knew that she would have to do it, at which point she wondered if the Jedi would attempt to defend the slaver. It would not surprise her in the very least from one of the so called protectors of peace, but decided not to bring the issue altogether. 

"After that we find separate transports and we part our--" 

The Sith stopped and turned, her demeanor serious as before. The Darkside slowly speaking to her as a jolt of a warning came and she narrowed her eyes against the dusty horizon, turning fully towards it. There was something in the breeze, a cry that slowly came closer and closer to them. And then it dawned on her. She turned towards the pod and opened her eyes. The beacon! she thought and turned towards the Jedi. 

"Zygerrians..." The Sith said in a soft whisper that was almost lost in the wind. "Two... three of them... they know we're here."

The whine of the speeder bike became more and more clear as they trio advanced at great speed. Whether they came to find them or to execute them for the damage that had been done to the station was still not clear enough she would not deign herself to find out while blaster bolts came raining on them. Her sanguine blade snapped to life with a hiss as she marched towards them. The fury coursing on her becoming more and more palpable, the discomfort that ached her body leaving as she felt elated, exalted beyond those mere mortals. 

The Zygerrian appeared on top of their steeds, blaster fire emerging from the built in blasters on the bikes boiled the air on their path. She dodged the first fusillade and she took aim. Swinging her arm, she tossed her own lightsaber on a long arc that trailed crimson and bisected one of the attackers, the speeder bike rolled out of control. The second and third doubled back, coming from behind her as as they attempted to take both the Jedi and the Sith out. 

"Fight Jedi! Fight!"

Syrin roared as she recalled her lightsaber and began to deflect blaster bolts with what skill in Soresu she had. 

[Ghostie]

The Jedi Master’s arms crossed ever so loosely in front of his bruised and aching chest, fingers dangling from out and under his elbows. A small grin played on Kol’s face, as the Sith Lady started to speak. She accused him of meddling in her mission, which he could admit was true. He had needed information from the Priceps, just as much as the raven-haired woman standing in front of him had wanted to kill the man. It was at least partially his fault for the mess that had been created back on the station. When Tansar Point Station still existed, that was. He hadn’t planted the explosives, and though he’d never be able to prove it, Kol had a pretty good idea of who had done so. If she wanted to blame anyone for their current predicament, she need not gaze any further than the closest mirror.

Still, now was not the time for squabbling over whose fault it was that the day had turned out to lead the both of them into ploughing some poor farmer’s field with their escape pod. At this point, Kol just wanted to find his missing colonist and get back home. And he’d rather work with the Sith Lady than against her, as it seemed their goals were at least partially aligned, for now. Fighting against one another was going to get them nowhere, and Kol wasn’t as shortsighted as some Jedi could be and turn down a potential ally, no matter their eye color. The Jedi Master didn’t like the Sith as much as anyone else in his Order. A byproduct of the War, of being ancient rivals. But joining together would make things much more quick, and it guaranteed him at least less of a chance of catching that red lightsaber between his shoulder blades.

And again, she was rather attractive. Aside from the glowing, red eyes.

“What’s your beef with the Zyger - ”

But Kol didn’t get to finish his inquiry, and ask the Sith Lady about her vendetta with the Princeps, which seemed rather personal. He didn’t need the Force’s warning of danger to know that the Jedi and Sith’s enemies had found them. The high-pitched whine of the rapidly approaching speeder bikes was unique, and a sound that Kol’s ears picked up immediately. It sounded like two, maybe three vehicles, bearing down fast. The Jedi turned towards the direction of the noise, just in time to see three speeder bikes indeed. They burst forth from the golden-brown crops, flattening them as they went, and firing wildly at the two newfound allies. With a sharp snap-hiss, Kol had his green blade in hand as the first volley of laser blasts landed all around him.

The Jedi stood his ground, deflecting away bolts from the built-in cannons on the speeder bikes as the vehicles, and the Zygerrians on top, took running passes at the Jedi and the Sith. Out of the corner of Kol’s eye, he could see the raven-haired warrior throw her red blade and catch one of the riders, the vehicle careening off and dentonating in a small explosion near the escape craft. Kol himself deflected cannon blasts from the second speeder off and into the sky, where they would eventually, and harmlessly, dissipate. Waiting for just the right moment, the Jedi side-stepped the bike as it came right for him, and brought his lightsaber down in a heavy, two-handed strike, cleaving right through the control vanes. That bike spun out of control and into the crops, exploding much like the first.

“Move!” Turning to face the third speeder bike and the final rider, Kol saw just in time as the vehicle was bearing down on the Sith Lady, and bearing down fast. But by the time the Jedi got his warning out, it was too late. Instead, he dove for the woman, his shoulder catching her midsection as he drove her down and into the mud and dirt. Their lightsabers shut off as they both collided, and the last speeder bike past overhead in two quick seconds, the repulsors buffeting the Force-users hard. But Kol held the Sith Lady down, and held on tight. His large form protected her lithe frame from the engines as he face was buried in against her right shoulder blade, their combined long hair whipping about for those few, intense moments.

Standing quickly as the vehicle passed, Kol turned, and picked up a bit of one of the other wreckages of the bikes with the Force, as if an invisible hand held the ruined hunk of metal afloat. With a quick flick of his wrist, the Jedi sent the pieces of speeder bike soaring into the last rider, who flew off of his bike. The Zygerrian tumbled to the ground, unmoving. His bike flipped side over side, but appeared undamaged in the aftermath as it landed near the shallow part of the trench ploughed by the escape craft.

“Sorry... You alright?” Kol asked, turning to see if the woman needed help getting on her feet. “Just didn’t want to see my new partner speared on a speeder bike. Would’ve made the rest of today all the more difficult. And less interesting.” He flashed the raven-haired woman a small grin, before walking off to examine the last speeder bike. It seemed like it was still useable, despite the blow that Kol had given it and the rider. And if it was still useable, then they had a ride. As the Jedi passed by the last Zygerrian, the man gave a pained moan, writhing a bit back and forth. There was little the Jedi could do for him, as his own medical kit had been pretty much expended, and the Sith Lady hadn’t come back with her own. Frowning a bit, Kol shuffled by. He’d help in a moment, if he could find anything useful to do.

The speeder bike, however, looked to be in far better condition than it’s driver. A little dinged and scratched, but it seemed to be made out of sterner stuff than the other two. Grabbing the handle bars, Kol clipped his lightsaber to his belt and swung one leg over the vehicle. Piloting the bike slowly over to the Sith Lady, he stopped just a few feet from her, and rested his hands in his lap.

“Seems to be fine. We’ve got a ride. Now we just need to know where we’re going…” The Jedi eyed the injured Zygerrian. He did still have some of his syringe of pain killer, left. Perhaps it would be enough to get the man back on his feet. They could reach a bargain, for it. “... Think he’d tell us?” Kol flashed the last half of the syringe at the raven-haired warrior, waiting for a response.

[Harukei]

In the thrill of combat the Sith could reach out and feel the Jedi fight as he echoed through the Force. She looked at him, as with deft movement he dispelled the laser blasts away showing an ease that almost made her envious of his skill with the lightsaber. The green arc of the blade would finally come to a downward cleave as the speeder nose was cut from the rest of the speeder, sending the pilot careening away against the crops. There was something to be appreciated about that, as she felt the life of that attacker snuff as the flames blossomed. Her eyes lingered too much on the explosion, long enough for that whisper of the darkside to be ignored until the very last second when she felt the whining drone of the repulsorlift and a distant shout. 

Syrin did not had time to react, to do anything, she had become a kybuck caught by headlights that would have been flattened in those precious seconds had she not been tackled down. The Sith felt a push as she was yanked off her feet and thrown down against the dirt and the mud. Her lightsaber flickered out for a second as she lay over her back, dazed as her instinct to fight back compelled her to write against the weight that pinned her down. It was to no avail as for the beef seconds into which she tried to fight, she felt compressed as the speeder bike and its repulsorlift coils passed over her. Something held her in those seconds of sheer confusion as her own dark hair mingled with strands of spun gold. 

The weight and hold upon her ceased, and as she laid, the sun shone upon her crimson eyes, the Force being the only of her senses that could tell her what was going on. She felt the Jedi through the Force, a bright beacon that was a reversal of her own burning darkness. She heard a metallic shriek and thud of steel against flesh and then against the soil. The engines whined to a halt and she heard his voice again, gasping as the man stood close to her. She did not respond immediately, listening to his words and looking at the scene as clarity was restored to her sight. Prideful, she found her way to stand, taking a deep breath of air as Kol moved to inspect the last speeder bike. 

"I am fine." She said with huff and looked towards the man. "Thank you."

It was as sincere as she could be. He had at the very least saved her injuries that would had made the trip worst. As he returned, he nodded towards the groans of the last of the attackers. The last of the Zygerrians and she pondered on what he had mentioned. We do need to know where they are based at. She waged her options and observe the syringe and then the man that gasped for his life and closed her eyes, reaching through the Force, understanding through the darkside and she found the answer. He was dying. The pain killer would ease his suffering, but it would only delay the inevitable. Her gaze shifted to the Jedi. 

"No. He won't. Not willingly." She replied to him before she took a step forward. "Do not interfere."

The Zygerrian saw her advance, his hand moved towards the leather holster around his waist and produced a small snub-blaster pistol. There was a discharge and then a second, but she did not move, she did not bother to avoid blasts so random and so inaccurate that they didn't merit an straight reply with her movement or her lightsaber. Her left hand yanked at the air, the telekinetic move snapping the pistol from the feline grip. Long and slender fingers became a fist with sudden movement and the components of the weapon mashed together, the power cells breaking and releasing plasma in gas form, the barrel bending in an unnatural way, the stock crushed beyond measure. 

Syrin shot her hand forward, the Zygerrian was dragged over his back and slammed against the bark of an old tree that had survived the landing of the pod and the ensuing attack of the slavers. He writhed in pain and Syrin could sense it, she fed on it, devouring each and every second as she took steps forward until the space between the Sith and the Slaver were but a few feet. 

"You... kath-mutt... b.. arrg.." The Zygerrian said through gritted teeth, a clawed hand shooting forward in a desperate impossible attempt. 

"Tell me what I want to know." Her voice sounded deeper through gritted teeth.

She pushed in, slowly, probing his mind and then forcibly entering, rupturing memories, breaking any iota of resistance left. The Zygerrian began to howl in the agony as memories and recollections were ripped and sundered, his personality pierced and shifted in an unrecognizable way that could only be that of someone that lost themselves. And then, it suddenly stopped and the Sith saw it all, the information that she sought and so much more made her blood boil in wrath.

All things he had done, all the people he had enslaved and massacred for sport. Her lips twisted in a snarl of fury and tears escaped her eyes, as her memories flooded back to haunt her. Slaving scum. She extended middle and index finger and with a twist of her hand, a snapping sound was heard. The body fell limp with a thud and the Sith stood there for a second, looking at her handy work. 

"Their compound is two-hundred and fifty six kilometers to the northwest." She said in a soft whisper, as she wiped the tears with the back of her left hand. "If we leave now, we can reach it before dawn."
 

[Ghostie]

For the next few hours, the only sound that echoed across the Saleucamian plains was the drowning whine of a speeder bike’s repulsors, as it ferried it’s passengers across the open landscape and on their long journey. The bike’s path had converged with a simple, dirt road at one point, and it it’s wake the vehicle had choked the air with brown dust. But other than a large crater that the bike skimmed around the top of, in which was housed a small little village, there was no other signs of civilization. Either the speeder bike flew through a truly remote area of Saleucami, or there was simply very little traffic on that particular day.

And in all that time spent in silence as he drove, hunched over the speeder bike’s handles, Kol’s mind kept racing. Racing back to the scene at the escape craft in the farmfield. To the Sith Lady that down sat directly behind and up against his back, and the way she had treated that Zygerrian. The man was already severely injured. Perhaps dying. But the Sith had gone the extra distance to scramble his brain, and tear through his thoughts with the Force. In his last moments, the Zygerrian had been a shell of who he once was, twisted and broken. His very presence had been altered in the Force. The whole thing had made the Jedi Master’s stomach turn over. All that, for a small bit of information. It could’ve been gained any other way, Kol argued quietly with himself. But as the Sith had requested, he hadn’t interferred.

Why not?

Kol had resigned himself to the fact that the Sith was going to more than likely end up ending the life of every Zygerrian she came across. And he wasn’t going to pretend that when the time came, Kol wouldn’t take their lives as well, if need be. Perhaps they deserved it. Perhaps some of them were simply being caught in the crossfire. But the difference was that the Sith relished in the pain, and misery and death. Kol found the violence repulsive, even if it was necessary. He had far more than enough of it, on the front lines of the War. Enough for multiple life times on end. And that would always be the difference, between a Jedi and Sith, he reasoned. And no matter how attractive, how shapely, and how fierce the warrior sitting behind him on the speeder bike was, that fact was never going to change.

Yet, as she had finished with the Zygerrian, Kol had thought he sensed a moment of weakness. Of vulnerability. A grey patch, in her tidal wave of darkness. But it passed as soon as he had found it. Perhaps Kol had simply wanted to sense what wasn’t there. As much of a Master of the Jedi Order that he was, Kol always struggled with emotions, relationships, and attraction. And this was one of those moments. The Jedi was trying to look for a spot of light that simply didn’t exist within the woman. He would need the Sith’s help to finish their mission, as they had agreed. But Kol had remind himself that was all. Then they’d do their separate ways, and all this would be is a tall tale to pass on to other Jedi.

As the sun started to come down low in the sky, a cascade of purples and reds and blues mashed itself against the clouds, and the light started to grow dim. Kol needed to stretch. He had been sitting on the speeder bike for far too long at this point, and longed for a break. His one good eye, being all that he could drive off of, was starting to get sore and heavy. Luckily enough, a small stream wound its way down their path, cutting through the plains and dividing the land. Finding a wide bend with a small, bulbuous tree on the embankment, the Jedi slowed the bike down and came to a halt. Taking a big sigh, he turned off the scorching hot engines, and let them rest for a bit.

“I need a stretch, how about you?”

Standing slowly and finding his footing, Kol swung one stiff leg over the vehicle, grimacing a bit as he did so. Ignoring the Sith Lady for the moment, the Jedi shuffled to the back of the bike, and emptied the saddle bag he had packed before they left. Rations from the escape pod, not the best, but filling, were placed on the seat, along with a couple bottles of water. His partial medical kit was thrown down next to the food. Kol dug through the last, until he found what he had been hoping was stashed away in the kit the whole time. A small, oval shaped piece of metal, slightly bent in the middle. The Jedi lifted it up to the cybernetic eye of his which had been blown out, and the patch stayed in place, no string needed.

“So…” Kol started a question as he took off his shirt once more, and examined his bandages from before. The piece of clothing also thrown over the speeder bike, his hands wandered his muscular torso. The kolto patches and the Force were working a miracle, alright. He was feeling fine, if a little sore, and his headache had even subsided for awhile. The bandages could come off. “... What’s your deal with the Zygerrians? I mean, even for a Sith, you seem pretty hellbent on seeing them dead.” Kol eyed the Sith Lady with his one, icy blue eye. “After all, explosives are pretty extreme on a space station.” He had no proof that the destruction of the station had been her doing, but Kol didn’t really need proof.

[Harukei]

Syrin had remained quiet during the whole trip. Her eyes staring vacantly towards the golden and russet colors of the landscape and the orange glow of the sun of Saleucami as it began to set down, turning the sky into a deep tawny intermingled with sanguine red, before the star freckled cobalt would reign in as the night overtook the day. With the whine of the repulsorlift engine and the blasting wind that sailed through her raven locks there was no need to say anything, much at all, it was pointless. But she did relive the instances of the murder she had committed, she had fed on the sheer terror, the pain and desolation she had caused to the Zygerrian. 

It had not been enough. She had softly realized that. It would never be enough to repay to them in kind the treatment they had submitted to her. Even if surgery and vanity had done most to hide the scarred tissue that had once reigned over her now pristine skin. The Sith could still feel the lashes about the outer layers of epidermis, she could still reminisce about the shocking discharges and taste the blood and flesh of those she had bitten to get away from. She could remember how she had snapped fingers in a frenzied fury to defend her younger sister. It will never be enough. She told herself. 

Once Kol had stopped the vehicle close to an embankment, she dismounted, sitting against the hover machine as the warm breeze began to swept away the sweat over her brow. She hugged her knees and for a brief minute closed her eyes, contemplating unto this world. It was an arid and dry world, them finding two sources of water so readily available to them had been nothing short of miraculous had she not believed in Dark Side of the Force. But in many ways it did remind Syrin of her home planet. She began to detest Saleucami even more if it was plausible. 

But it was his words that broke the trance, the pondering and self observation. Her eyes would follow the man as he began to tend to his wound, stripping the shirt of to take care of the hematomas, the bandages, looking almost like a half-beaten demigod that lacked an eye. Her sight lingered on him, on his face, transfixed unto the empty socket of his cybernetic eye that she had destroyed still unsure of how the lack of a piece of himself influenced his connection to the Force. But it was his question that made her shift, and feel some disdain. 

"What is it to you, Kol?"

Syrin said in a whisper. It wasn't something she had never shared with anyone. None of her masters had known, known of her fellow orphans during her time in Druckenwell had learned much beyond the fact that the Jedi had rescued her and her sister, only for her to be a reject due her age. But, the again, who would believe him? Who would believe the story of a Sith Lady so obsessed with revenge that she had almost declared a one women crusade against an entire species? It was ludicrous, even for the members of the Dark Order. 

"You don't even know my name and ask such things. Is this when you tell me that you see good in me?"

A faint smile wryly appeared upon her lips. She had heard such invitation before and had scoffed at it. But for some reason she could not say for certain that she would laugh at it, at best she could flatly refuse. She looked at him again, the crimson of her eyes meeting the solitary gaze of his deep blue. 

"You truly want to know?"

[Ghostie]

"What is it to you, Kol? You don't even know my name and ask such things. Is this when you tell me that you see good in me?"

As the woman responded to the Jedi Master’s question, Kol paused for a moment, and considered his response. He let his shirt drop for the moment, and stopped tending to his wounds and bandages. Strong hands placed on either side of the back of the speeder, he leaned against the vehicle and over the open saddle bag, and studied the Sith. She wasn’t like most of their Order that he had met. Of course, any Sith that Kol had met before this mission to Saleucami had always been trying to kill the Jedi. And granted, she had tried to kill him as well. The hastily applied and rather rudimentary eyepatch reminded Kol of that fact. Yet unlike most Sith, she was willing to work with him. And he thought she showed a brief moment of weakness, of vulnerability.

But again, Kol felt his physical attraction towards the woman, towards the Sith, was playing a part in all of this. Since meeting her, she had wantonly murdered more than a few Zygerrians, put innocents in harms why by blowing up an entire space station, and had mentally broken a man so that he would have never been himself ever again, had he survived. Kol had to remind himself that she wasn’t a good person. His new eyepatch reminded him that she would take out anyone in her way on her one woman crusade. As much as Kol wanted to see some good in the woman, he just couldn’t at the moment.

“No.”

He spoke flatly, after his two halves of his mind rapidly had their own civil war. Even if Kol thought there might be a flicker of well-meaning in the woman, he doubted she wanted to hear about it, anyways. And until he saw something that proved otherwise, Kol wasn’t going to say that she was good, deep down somewhere, no matter how pretty she might be. Slowly pulling one of the water bottles off of the speeder, Kol marched over to join the woman. The large man sunk to the ground next to the Sith, keeping a foot or so between them with his legs outstretched. Enough so that he wouldn’t crowd her, and yet at the same time so that he wouldn’t seem as if he was keeping his distance. Twisting the cap on the bottle, the miniature plastic tabs snapped quietly. Kol took a swig, and then offered it to the Sith Lady.

"You truly want to know?"

“Yes.”

Kol responded, much more quick on the uptake this time, as he had already reached a decision on that answer. He looked over at the woman, meeting her ruby eyes. If the deadly red color could ever appear soft, they did in the Saleucamian sunset. The gentle breeze tugged at both of their long locks, some of the black whipping across the woman’s face. If Kol had to guess, there was as much pain in her as rage and conviction. His mind darted back to earlier on the day, on the space station, and the words she had spoken to the Princeps. How she claimed that he used to tell her to scream.

Perhaps that was all Kol needed. Nonetheless, he wanted to hear it from her. To see what exactly she had in mind.

“I don’t need a name, if that’s how you want to play this. I just want to know what I’m getting myself involved with.”

At this point, Kol would say he was rather involved. Even if he never learned the Sith’s name, even if she was still a Sith, she was still his partner on this mission. And Kol wasn’t going to simply leave her behind, if trouble reared its ugly head. He wasn’t going to leave her behind, if she found herself in too deep and couldn’t get out. And when the time came for such action, the Jedi wanted to know what exactly he would be facing down. There was a difference between hunting just the Princeps, and fighting the entire Zygerrian slaving force.

[Harukei]

Syrin would look at him, still unsure of what his exact intentions were. She grasped the bottle of water and took a quick sip of the liquid, tasting the sterile flavor with a tinge of sun warmed plastic. Returning the bottle to Kol, she debated again of whether or not she needed to tell him of what had happened to cause such vitriol for a species that otherwise served the Sith well in their capacity as slavers and occasional mercenaries. 

In the end, she relented. Not because she felt that venting would do any good, telling this to someone made no difference, it never had before and it wouldn't change a thing. At the very least it would make time go faster. The Sith sighed and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she unearthed memories that would only surface when she needed them to be useful. There was a slight shiver, a slight hesitation before she began. 

"My name is Keres." 

She said softly, in a brittle tone that seemed to betray the furious and dark disposition of earlier. The Sith would open her eyes, looking at the sunset as the tip of her fingers would press against the unblemished flesh of her arms. Bitterness began to set in as she reminisced. 

"I wasn't born as an aristocrat, nor I was ever a Jedi. I was born on Dantooine before it became a Sith World."

Before her eyes the gold and russet fields turned into a green panorama of shades of cold green and dulled grain, the skies were a deep cobalt tinged with the red and pinks of the sun light piercing atmosphere. She remembered the scent of the long grasses and the distant howl of Kath-Hounds as they hunted in packs. And the oily aroma of the clanking droids of the homestead. 

"My family was dirt poor, we barely had food to feed us and the animals, and half of our crop droids were broken. My mother broke her back tending to the fields but she never raise a hand against me or my sister. My father..."

The Sith stopped, her finger nails pressed against her flesh, almost piercing the upper layer of epidermis as she remember her progenitor, causing hatred to burn intensely and almost spill out. She bit her lip and taste distant copper in her mouth before she softly gasped for air, recovering some semblance of control. 

"He... he was a mercenary. But we never saw a credit of what he made. He spent it all in drinking and women. One day he returned, me and my sister we were asleep and I woke up."

The woman turned to look at Kol. Her red eyes misty, her lips pressed,  tingling in barely contained grief and fury and her voice turning shaky at that memory still fresh in her mind, even after all those years. 

"They fought and he killed her. I still remember that, the seven red flashes that he shot before realizing that I stood there. He punched me and then I woke up in his ship with his mercenary group."

Her gaze never left Kol's solitary eye. Every detail taking more and more out of her not to snap out, not to lash against the world, against the machine they laid against or even against the Jedi Master himself in order to release the building wave of searing anger that bubbled inside her. 

"The bastard sold us, me and my sister, to the Zygerrians... I was tortured Kol, tortured for trying to escape, for defending my sister, for anything. I bit them, tearing flesh in anger, I broke the fingers, and blinded them. I saw them torture and kill old slaves for sport. The Princeps you were so keen on saving had me whipped because I resisted. I was a child."

Tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheek, yet she never deviated her sight from the man for what seemed to be an eternity. Syrin quicky wiped the tears from her eyes with her fingers and stared vacantly towards the now ending sunset as the sun's last lights began to flicker away in the horizon. The Sith would take another deep breath and would calm herself as she allowed those memories to slowly be buried once more. 

"The Jedi then saved us... But they didn't do anything with the Zygerrians." 

Syrin softly whispered. 

"They took my sister, my only family away from me and I was alone."

Her tale ended, it didn't matter if he believed or not, for no one would believe such a story. 

[Ghostie]

“I’m sorry.”

The Jedi Master’s voice was low, and flat. His one eye gazed out onto the seemingly never-ending arid plains, rolling on hills just beyond their barrier of the river. He only spoke after Keres’s story had ended, and even then giving her a few moments to let her rage subside. A meager apology was all that Kol could offer up. The man hadn’t exactly been looking for a life story from the woman, but now that he had one, he wasn’t sure where to go or what to do with it. Perhaps there was nothing to do with it. It was in the past, and it couldn’t be changed.

But that didn’t mean that Kol still couldn’t be sorry. No one deserved what Keres had been put through. And Kol had no reason to doubt her story. The rage and anger that had welled up inside of her had been real. There was a difference between a facsimile emotion of fury, and the real thing. Kol could sense it. The only thing he had to doubt was her name, Keres. It was unusual. It could be real, for all the Jedi knew. But Kol knew that Sith changed their names, at a certain point in their training. Though in the end, Keres’s name didn’t matter. Her story did. And it felt like the basis for the reason that the woman was who she was, today. A reaction to horrible actions long ago. It made her more of a human, and less of a marauding Sith.

“Well Cyar’ika…” Kol reached up behind his head and over his shoulder. His large fingers found the cave of rations, which he brought down between the pair of them, careful not to bump Keres’s head. “... I’m afraid my life story is FAR less interesting. But if you want, I could contribute to story time.” He flashed Keres a grin, before grabbing a ration bar. Kol’s intention wasn’t to insult the woman, but to add a bit of levity to their otherwise grim conversation.

“The... only reason I wanted to save this Princeps... is because of his most recent slaves.” Kol spoke with a bit of ration bar in his mouth, his words muffled. Chewing and swallowing before continuing, he looked at Keres and held her red gaze. “Republic citizens, from New Apsolom. I’m trying to find them.” Kol took another bite of his food, his words muffled and hard to distinguish once again. “But… I’ve got a feeling they’re… At this base of his.”

Having demolished the first ration bar rather quickly, Kol crumpled the wrapped in his strong hand, the thin plastic crinkling all the way. Most people found ration bars unsavory, and tasteless. But thanks to his time in the War, Kol could stomach them pretty well. Leaning back against the speeder bike, the Jedi’s mind was made up. The Princeps had led him to his slaves, and because of that, the Princeps was no longer Kol’s concern. Whatever happened to the man, the Jedi washed his hands of it.

“I only wanted to know if we were going to fight every Zygerrian on the planet, or if you were just after the one.” Kol’s gaze went back out to the rolling fields of orange and amber, as they reflected the ever lowering sun. The Jedi gave a shrug with his words. “Either way, I’m here until we’re finished. As for that Princeps guy…” Kol caught Keres’s eye once more, and shrugged again. “... He’s not my concern.”