Fangs of the Fox [3599 bby]

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Carnivale de Veleno continued. Twenty-two of the Republic’s richest fat cats, choking to death on the toxic secretions of a fat cat – coincidentally native to one of the largest Republic worlds. If all lives were measured equally, the balance would shortly be restored. Darth Novus was buoyed up by the dizzy nauseous thrill of a plan coming perfectly together. Now fraying by the second, it felt more like a sinkhole opening beneath her feet. “I asked you, I seem to remember, to allow me escape outside that port ...” “The old man was gone. You had nothing left to bargain with. And it’s not as if your Jedi peers would kill you for your failure.” Novus sniffed, watching Locke watch the glittering horizon. Just bright sparks, pretty if you didn’t know what they meant. She thought that she might have had him just then, if not for that view. The worst kind of useless Sith posturing, to please someone worlds away who would only look at the final count. Who would turn power and reach into some blunt object, too casually used. Hard to say if her approach was truly any better. What was the difference between twenty-two carefully stolen lives and a few hundred, if all murder was equally unforgivable? She was losing her sense of objectivity, and worse, she knew it. “Isn’t it your nature to lie?” ”Isn’t it in yours, Jedi? Since we’re talking, I think you must favor results over ideals. At least a little bit.” Novus smiled sharply, remembering how angry comparative morality had made him before. It was possible that Locke was wasting time on purpose, to better effect her capture. Yet she sensed no one in the garden besides them and now their wayward students, fast approaching. ”Don’t let me go then. By all means, chase me.” She did not look at him now, orienting herself subtly. The driveway had been that way. ”It’s sand panther venom. Your great and mighty are experiencing, in essence, a massive anaphylactic shock. Your medics probably have epinephrine on hand. That should buy some time to start synthesizing the antidote.” If you call the hospital now.

[Fromikeable]

Vance couldn't hear his own thoughts over the pounding heartbeat in his ears, the sound of his own footsteps as he ran a distant thing. His entire head felt like it was a pulsing drum, every step jostling it, every breath bringing it to a painful stretch. That was to say nothing of his heart, the poor organ so flustered that it felt about ready to punch its way out of his rib cage. He looked awful, his hair partially wet, his face red and sweaty, his hands shaky and cold.

All he knew is that he had to run.

By the time he came skidding into the courtyard, it finally occurred to him that he might only be making things worse. What could he say? Which person did he support? Why would he wish to go back to the Jedi? Why would he ever help a Sith? Coming to a stumbling stop, he stared at the conversationalists before him, his eyes wide and buggy, his body still save for its panting.

This was a mistake. Looking back over his shoulder, Vance felt his hairs stand on end, waiting for his pursuer. The kick he had launched at Jazen wouldn't have held him off long, and even with his longer legspan, Vance was sure he hadn't lost the Jedi. He'd been too clumsy, too bumbling to think that well. He would be along any second, and if that "bad cop, worse cop" routine from earlier was any indication, he might not be in the most understanding of moods.

Vance managed to close his mouth for a second, noting how dry it was. If he only had precious seconds between now and being tackled to the ground and stabbed, he had to seize them, had to come up with something. What did he say? What made this better? What made Locke understand that this wasn't his fault, that it hadn't been his choice, that he'd just been trying to be helpful?

How do you explain wanting to be helpful to Darth Novus? A certain gloom entered his eyes when he realized that was even a point to be made.

"... I did it." Surprised by his own shaky voice, Vance wasn't able to stop himself.

"I poured every cup and served every glass. It was me." Chest heaving, Vance's eyes darted between Locke and Novus, clearly making up his plan as he went along.

Though to call it a "plan" was a stretch.

"Just take me and let her go."

[Rugs]

“Now hold on,” Locke said, spreading his hands slightly as a wry smile touched his features. “You can’t hold your shitty friends against me.” Joking in a garden while the rich and famous drank and gobbled down a deadly poison. Locke expected trouble might visit the evening’s affairs — he wouldn’t be there if there weren’t a chance of it — but this was not the sort of headache he felt like dealing with. “Of course, if you just turn yourself over the Republic, we’ve got a wonderful ‘How to make better friends’ lecture as part of a 12-step rehabilitation program...”

The question remained. Attempt to capture her, with no real guarantee of success, or let her go, with an unreliable promise of help? Locke’s mind raced, wishing he could feel the future’s threads and follow them to their outcomes.

Instead, all he could do was making the best decision he could, with the clock ticking.

No pressure, Nemsee. Maybe if Jazen showed up he could send the boy to call for help with the poison while he dealt with Novus? Or maybe there was another way?

Locke smiled at her as she turned his question around on him. I know what you’re doing, his face seemed to say in the dark. No, not this time.

“Yes,” he said. “It is. I imagine you were most displeased to learn I’m not a generalissimo,” Locke’s expression shifted to a mockery of regret, “but am merely a Jedi.”

Sand panther venom. An invitation to chase. Locke furrowed his brows. If he darted after Novus, he couldn’t tend to the situation here. But Jazen.

Where was he, anyway? Still about in the palace, his presence an irritated mess. Locke sent a telepathic nudge with what he knew, from Novus’ own words. Sand panther venom. Epinephrine. Call for help.

“It should,” he said to Novus. “Surprisingly gracious, for a Da-”

Vance emerged in the garden then, all flushed and breathing as if he’d been sprinting for his life from something. Locke looked at the boy, then at Novus, trying not to glare.

”...I did it.”

Locke looked back at the nerve-wracked youth and Novus. Calling his expression incredulous would be a stretch.

“Is that so?” he asked slowly once Vance finished stammering out his excuse for what was happening. Locke didn’t need the Force to know it was a lie. Locke thrived around those who lied well, and Vance wasn’t the type. The way he eyes darted desperately to and fro were giveaway enough.

“Tell me, Vance,” he said, pointing at Novus, “why in the Galaxy would you lie for her?”

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Rehabilitation. Redemption. It was a stupid, flippant joke. From this particular Jedi knight’s mouth, it meant less than nothing. Yet it froze Novus in her tracks just the same. The words were fishhooks that caught and snagged on something – hope, perhaps, encysted but never truly excised – and teased open a wound. Very suddenly, there was nothing fun about this back and forth at all. She hated Locke quite fiercely for being eleven years too late. For choosing to taunt her with it now. Strange, it seemed more important by moonlight, in the gory scattered remains of the plan, of the kill. Guilt, dimly realized and not for the twenty-two dying within Palazzo di Luce. She had, after all, given up the key to saving them for nothing at all. Not even the promise of a lying Jedi. Unwise. Her own words came back to her. Nothing left to bargain with, indeed. Or ... Maybe not entirely at a loss. Vance appeared, interrupting Locke, strange and haunted and then lying very poorly. She opened her mouth to argue with her apprentice but instead found herself staring at the Jedi’s outstretched arm, pointing at her. Accusatory, not to mention rude. Had Novus a weapon, she would have been seriously tempted to remove the offending appendage. “Why in the Galaxy would you lie for her?” Novus flinched, arms crossed, as bright points of color rose in outrage on each cheek. ”Yes, of course, that would be out of the question. And I’m sure your padawan’s never done anything stupid to protect you!” Her gaze flickered to Vance, cold in the face of his obvious distress. Better for him in the long run, she told herself. And he was the reason they were here now, at odds. She should never have brought him. Yet, Vance hadn’t been with the Sith too long. Perhaps he could escape her vision of that kind of rehabilitation: long term captivity at best, reprogramming at the worst. ”Well, apprentice. This is unnecessary and unwanted. So, I wish you the joy of one another, you three.” Straightening, Novus drew up her concealment until she could not be sensed. Her chin jerked up, defiant. ”I mean to leave this planet peacefully. If you send others to hunt and to harry me, generalissimo, we will both have bloody hands.” Darth Novus walked away from both of them, deeper into the puzzle garden.

[Fromikeable]

Locke's questions stung a little more than Vance had anticipated, making his posture shrink. He hadn't expected a warm welcome; far from it, given what he'd just been a part of. If the shoe had been on the other foot, Vance was certain that there'd be a bit of venom in his words too, whether it be from a sense of betrayal, a sense of scorn, or even just simple contempt. He could understand it, he could bear it, and if he wanted to get through the rest of the night, he would need to.

But it still hurt.

Lips dry, Vance parted them to try and answer, his tongue moving with a mind of its own. The effort was shut down immediately as Novus took the opportunity he'd given her, calling him stupid. The way her eyes flicked at him was sharp, their expression cold as the breeze. He knew that she was a Sith standing opposite a Jedi, that she was more than ready to trade him for her own freedom, that she had to keep up appearances. More than that, he'd never understood her preference for him, why she'd even saved him at all. It must have been for situations like this, he told himself, where having someone that just wouldn't say the Sith creed, that just wouldn't put a red crystal in his saber, made for an excellent "Get Out Of Jail Free" card.

But it still hurt.

Concealing herself and walking away, Vance watched her go with an expression somewhere between expectant and wounded. Looking back to Locke, he immediately wiped his face on his sleeve, mopping up a good dose of sweat. It was only when he'd managed to pull himself together what little he could that his arm lowered. He raised his other hand, palm exposed, as he slowly reached into his pocket. As it withdrew, it bore two silver tubes. The first was the cylinder that had housed the exit plan, the two tabs that had been within gone into champagnes that had never been drank. The second glinted in the moonlight like a gem, its workmanship unlike the cold mechanics of the vial.

He'd always been proud of his saber.

Reaching out with both, Vance offered up his hands, wrists together. Staring at Locke like a man set to keel over, he managed a response, his eyes wild and afraid.

"I don't have anyone else." Swallowing hard, he took a quick breath, his breathing still recovering and shaky. "Neither does she. That... th-that doesn't make any of this okay, this doesn't-doesn't make any of this any less fucked up or awful or inhumane or..." His voice faded off as he tried to regain control of his thinking.

"... nevermind." Swallowing again, Vance forced his jaw shut. "I'm delusional, take me to prison. I deserve it."

[Rugs]

You and I both know that’s a lie, Locke thought with a brief, flat look at Novus as she bit back at his question toward Vance. Yet for all Jazen’s occasional lapses in judgement, Locke was compelled to take up for him — not by duty, but his own desire to do so.

He often wondered if it was the same sense that propelled parents to care for their children. Or maybe, more fittingly, an older brother to care for an occasionally-wayward younger one.

Maybe that wasn’t worth considering, really — it wasn’t like he’d ever know either answer for sure.

That was all beside the point now, anyway. Locke eyed Vance, unsure of what to make of the former Padawan. He knew Vance had fallen under Novus’ wing. How and why he remained, Locke couldn’t begin to guess.

Locke watched Novus as she left. His eyes narrowed as she issued a parting threat. “We’ll see about that, Novus,” he said.

But first, Vance. An opportunity to maybe get things under control at the palace — which he could begrudgingly admit should be his first priority, personal grudges be damned — and maybe help the young man.

An opportunity, but a brief one, if there was to be any real hope of capturing Novus.

With Novus gone, Locke’s attention turned wholly to Vance, who looked--and felt--as tumultuous as a dinghy being buffeted by the wild winds and waves of a sea at storm.

Vance produced two metal tubes. One was obviously a lightsaber. Locke’s lips pressed to a line at the sight of the other.

“Vance...” Locke started, then stopped. He sighed, heart heavy. “None of that is reason for what’s happened here. You know that. And locking you away in a cell wouldn’t make this right. Or stop it, or worse, from happening again somewhere.”

Locke took the metal tube, but intentionally left the lightsaber in Vance’s hand. Perhaps that was a mistake. Perhaps he was falling for a trick and would pay for it with a plasma blade between his ribs.

But he knew Vance — not as well as he would’ve hoped — and didn’t think that’d be the case.

“Look, I don’t know what happened to get you from the Jedi Order to the Sith,” he said slowly, thoughtfully. “But, I do know that you’re better than this.” He shook the metal cylinder. “What happened, Vance?”

[Fromikeable]

Vance bit his tongue as he waited, face pained as he looked at Locke expectantly. This was finally it. A set of handcuffs, a sonic collar on his neck to constantly disrupt his focus, and a cold cell to sit in for the rest of his life. That was to say nothing of the coming interrogations, the coming treatment as a prisoner of war. It wouldn't matter how many times he'd say that he didn't know anything; he was sure that Republic SIS wouldn't believe him. Even if the Jedi intervened at some point, even if they argued for his custody as one of their former members, he doubted that they would exactly extend a smile and a handshake.

So when no restraints came, Vance winced. Locking him in a cell wouldn't make any of this right? No, but it would be far, far easier. When did I become so obsessed with ease? Frowning at the thought, he was quiet for a minute, swallowing hard.

"... when Novus was sure that I wouldn't try running into forests and never coming back, she started offering to take me places whenever she would leave." Looking down at the cylinders in his hands, Vance sighed. His saber was slowly hooked back to his belt, the empty sedative cylinder pocketed. "At first I didn't trust her enough to go, but after a while... well, I started realizing that trips away from Rhen Var meant trips away from every other Sith in the galaxy. So I finally agreed." A small, bewildered smile spread across his face.

"They were nice. Not at first, they were awkward to start. I wouldn't ask where we were going or why. I didn't really want to know, I just tried not to ask too much. We'd take a shuttle to nowhere on some exotic planet, gather plants, the parts of some animal, and leave. She wouldn't force me to do anything. No Sith mantra. No diatribes about emotion or passion. She didn't even make me change my saber crystal. Eventually, we'd even talk about the stuff we gathered, the places we were." The small smile flickered, Vance's presence flashing a bit of surprise at his own thinking.

"She was like my newest, weirdest, quietest Jedi master." As his eyes reconnected with Locke, his smile disappeared, as if realizing what he'd implied. "She wasn't obviously, and I always tried to remind myself, over and over again. But after a while..." The thought lingered as his brow knit, failing to come up with a proper end to the thought. The truth was that after a while, he'd become exhausted. With no exit in sight, with reasonable treatment from a respectful woman, constantly being on-guard had become exhausting. Draining, even. It had come to a point where he had been the only real influence causing his mind to falter.

"I let my guard down." Vance tried not to focus on how grim his voice sounded with the words, clearing his throat lightly.

"It wasn't until a few days ago that she told me that we were coming here. I thought we were just coming to spy on someone, or to steal something, or-" He flopped his hands to his sides, huffing as stress threatened to overtake him again. Raising a hand to his face, he covered his eyes for a minute, biting his tongue hard once again.

"She told me to get hired as a waiter. I had to help hand out the first course and then give her a drink with the sedative. She didn't tell me that everything we'd gathered was for a poison. I tried hard not to think about it, to put the big obvious pieces together." Vance's face finally settled on a twisted expression, contorted between pain and irritation.

"I stopped asking questions because the answers just got too dark."

[Rugs]

Locke listened quietly, thoughtfully, as Vance told his story. How he met Novus remained unanswered, but Locke supposed that didn’t really matter at this point. The young ex-Jedi was in her care, and for better or for worse, Locke could pick up on the tell-tale signs of respect for Novus in Vance’s voice.

It was a different sort of respect than the usual droll subservience Sith--in his admittedly still limited experience--showed for a superior. And it was hard to pick out, past the layers of guilt and self-doubt that seemed to cloud Vance’s entire being. But it was there, and it was genuine.

For almost anyone else, Locke could find peace with that. The Jedi didn’t hold a monopoly on goodness, and he’d much rather Vance find a teacher outside the order that could care for him if the Jedi couldn’t--and the boy had been through multiple masters by this point.

But she’s a Dark Lady of the Sith, Vance, he thought silently.

“And now you’re here,” he said, “with a room full of people choking to death right back in there.” Locke motioned with his hand toward the palace. His voice was even-keeled. He didn’t seek to condemn Vance--the kid seemed to be well aware of what he’d helped to create--but nor could he ignore the seriousness of the situation or Vance’s role in it.

“Force, Vance.” Locke signed, rubbing his temple. A fat speeder with a blocky tank attached to its underside roared overhead, red lights flashing frantically. Two more followed. Fire response teams hauling ass to whatever was going on in the city. Locke didn’t have much time to waste.

“Look, I understand, maybe then a lot of other Jedi how you feel,” Locke said quietly. “I’ve been there. Sometimes on a job you just don’t want to know what you’re a part of, so it just feels better to keep your head down.” But Vance wasn’t on a job, and Locke couldn’t ignore those questions when those times arose.

“But whether you ask where the ride is taking you or not, you’re gonna reach the end eventually,” he said. “You might as well know where you’re going.”

Locke folded his arms, feeling some regret. Kick Vance when he was down wouldn’t make things better. And it didn’t feel right.

“I’m sorry Vance, that things didn’t work out better for you in the Order. The Jedi Order, I mean.” Locke paused, considering his words carefully. “Some part of me is glad that you found a master that seems to at least respect you. I know what it can mean to find a student to find a someone they can believe in. Jazen was the same way.

“But,” he added slowly, “I need you to consider how many innocent dead that belief is worth. Not even for their sake, but for yours.”

On the one hand, Novus seemed... a better choice than some other Sith Lords, if such a thing existed. She was remarkably practical, and seemed more focused on results than to throwing herself fully into the dogmatic garbage other Sith tended to spew. And she was infuriatingly competent.

But she’s still a Sith, he thought grimly. And you are too, Vance.

“I also need to know, if you know, where she’s going, Vance,” he said. Funny thing, asking Vance to help rob him of another master after just telling him he understood how he felt. Locke’s face turned rueful. “If you know anything that can help make this right.”

[Neology]

No hurried steps, no crashing through the hornbeam hedge walls of the maze. No one was following her, at least not yet. Novus made it to one of the GNR Catering vans before the fumes of her anger began to sputter out, threatening less useful emotions. Fear of getting caught. Fear of getting away. Regret for leaving Vance behind. She’d never had another student that she could stand being cooped up with, though there had been half a dozen of them over the years. Novus sank heavily down into the driver’s seat, plotting a return course to the city. The speeder rumbled to life around her, shabby on the inside despite the glossy beetle black paint. It smelled of stale wine and faintly of sweat. A large cardboard box occupied the passenger seat, slightly crumpled. Flipping the lid, she discovered a large frosted cake ringed by chocolate drizzled strawberries. Novus plucked one from the arrangement, considering it over the wheel. There had been other escape routes, of course. All useless now. Locke would question Vance today or tomorrow and he surely had access to truth drugs of his own, turnabout being only fair. The Arjha cover was truly blown, her money and accounts and documentation worse than merely useless. All too easy to track on a developed world like this. That information was Nemsee’s for the asking in the face of this violence. With effort, Novus blocked all that out and bit into the strawberry. It was wonderful, perfectly sweet and tart. First, her evening finery had to go. Clumsy and crouching in the back of the speeder, Novus slinked out of the gold evening gown and into the rumpled street clothes of an anonymous GNR employee. The shoes turned out to be the source of the smell, too large even with the socks rolled down. Alas, she’d left hers on the palace steps. Novus abandoned the van and set out on foot. She’d been to Aldera before but not in over a decade. The streets and shape of the place were the same, confined to an island in the center of a lake. Beyond that … Perhaps she’d have better luck in the wilds, where the Republic could offer the Jedi fewer home turf advantages. Eight blocks, and already the ill-fitting shoes were raising blisters. Novus made for a diner at the end of the street, well lit and friendly in the dark – if one could ignore the sirens in the distance, the whine of engines. Blinking under the halogen lights, Novus half halfheartedly searched her pockets. The diner was busy, nervous people gathered around an old vidscreen. A matronly woman behind the counter waved her over. “Caf’s on the house tonight, dearie. And that’s about all I’m afraid, done sent our cook home.” ”Oh. Thank you, that’s very kind.” Novus drifted to an empty booth, mug of hot coffee held between her hands. What now? The chrono on the wall told her she was too late to rendezvous with Maskrr and her pet. An unappetizing prospect at the best of times. ”Gotta think of something.” She muttered to herself, sliding slowly down in her booth to a sigh of protest from the sunny orange vinyl.

[Fromikeable]

Vance expected the worst of tirades, or at least the worst of Jedi tirades, to follow his account. Why shouldn't he have been chewed out for being stupid, after all? He'd committed just about every cardinal sin that the Code listed. He'd chosen emotion over peace, ignorance over knowledge, passion over harmony...

Death over the Force.

When Locke opened his mouth, Vance tensed, expecting every word to be a scathing blow. Instead, he was given an even-keeled tone, and worst of all, a solid rationale. Instead of fury in spades or righteous, collected condemnation, he was given simple, easy facts and an exhausted sigh's worth of disappointment.

Somehow it hurt more and less at the same time.

The worst part of it wasn't just that Locke was right, but that he made it all sound so simple. The man wasn't just another Jedi master that Vance had happened to meet during his circuit of masters. He was practical. He was collected. He did some of the worst work the Jedi had to tackle and somehow managed to be one of the most solid supporters of the Code. The man was an enigma that Vance tried to figure out more now than ever. A man that could do terrible things for good reason all to bring about an ultimate end to them.

How did he do it? How did he keep from waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes wondering when it would all spell his doom?

"... you're glad?" Without realizing it, Vance stood up a bit straighter, his face taking on a much less grim, borderline curious quality. Locke, the same man that had just finished telling him about how atrocious the evening had become, how evil their actions, was glad that Novus had found him. Glad that she'd given him his life back and not simply abandoned him to the rakghouls. Glad that he'd struggled to adjust on Rhen Var, glad that he'd been afforded the liberties he had, the freedoms that he had so liberally abused berating her as he'd begun to settle in. Locke was glad that he was her apprentice.

"You mean-" that Vance wasn't dead, and beyond that, in the company and study of the Empire's deadliest assassin?

He didn't dare to ask that entire question aloud, biting his tongue.

For a second, Vance was quiet, a twinge of guilt coming across his face. Biting back a sudden, inexplicable urge to cry, to let his heart flutter out of his mouth in some sort of twisted relief, he instead thought of what he did know about their original escape plan tonight. In much the same vein as the rest of the evening, Novus hadn't told him much. Even still, there was plenty he could deduce, and yet all he could think of was her disapproval at him dissecting it all piece by piece, selling out every ounce of good faith she had planted in him, even if it had been resisted every step of the way.

He couldn't sell her out, especially after all of this. But his conscience would never allowed him to bite his tongue.

"When we got here, we landed our ship about five kilometers east of the city, just where the mountain range starts." Swallowing hard, he paused again to take a breath, trying to pick his words carefully.

"I don't even know if that was supposed to be our way off-world. All I know is that we were supposed to take the sedatives and presumably wake up somewhere away from, y'know, the police."

[Rugs]

Locke couldn’t completely suppress that smile that threatened at Vance’s reaction. Yes, he was glad. Not that the person that had assumed Vance’s mentor role, but alas...

Look at you, Nemsee, he thought, feeling a strangely morbid amusement, congratulating the kid on finding a Sith teacher while the city burns. Locke shook his head with a glance at the city in question. The skyline stood against the night sky, stark contrast in places to the bright orange glow of unfolding chaos. What would they think of you back home?

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too warm and fuzzy over it,” Locke said, trying not to sound too dismissive while Vance mulled over his question.

The temporary silence, and the slow, measured way the former padawan spoke again reinforced Locke’s suspicions. He respected Novus. Locke did in his own way, he supposed, but as a foe. Vance’s lookout was entirely different.

“The mountains, huh?” Locke looked east, following Vance’s direction. The moutain range in question was broad, but with luck, they could find the ship without too much delay.

”Relay these orders for me,” Locke reached out to his student telepathically. ”I need a search team here pronto. Then get in touch with the planetary security. Set a cordon for all aerial traffic, coming or going in a 25-kilometer radius around the city. No one gets in or out without clearance. Set up checkpoints on the ground, too.”

A tall order, with the response to quell the fires and Force knew whatever else was going on. But a necessary one, if it could bring a Dark Lord into Republic custody. Locke inhaled deeply, mind wheeling for answers and finding none. Where could Novus have gone?

”And this is very important--if she’s found, no one moves in on her without my clearance.” Cast the net wide, hope its holes weren’t to wide, and draw it closed. Novus’ threat didn’t fall on idle ears. If he could find a way to do this quickly...

But it’s going to take time, he told himself. Deploying those sorts of resources dind’t just happen.

That might be time we don’t have.

Locke returned his attention to Vance. “Thank you, Vance,” he said queitly. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

He sighed deeply. Were he a Sith, he might use Vance to test Novus’ loyalty to her student. Would pain draw her to him. Had they developed that sort of master-student bond already? But he couldn’t do that. Not to Vance, he wouldn’t dare. Still, Vance’s presence was another question Locke wasn’t sure how to answer.

“You know what I’m about to set out to do, Vance,” he said. He turned from the student, walking to the garden’s edge to watch the city burn. “I know how you feel about Novus. I understand. But I need to know if you’re going to be a problem.”

He winced at calling Vance — a young man with an honest heart and a good head on his shoulders — a “problem” but there was little other way to put it. “I’m not your enemy, and I beg you not to do anything to make me one.”

[Neology]

”Damn it.” What would she do, in the Jedi’s place? What had she done while trying to stop his padawan and the defector on Muunilinst? Novus pulled a paper napkin from the dispenser and began to shred it into long strips, something to keep her hands busy when the free coffee ran out. The spaceport was impossible, that went without saying, without question. Even if Nemsee spent the next several hours sitting on his hands, the trouble caused by Belinda and her slavering lizard had made sure of that. It didn’t matter anyway. Whatever was going on with Locke, it was definitely strange – he’d let her walk away, after all – but she didn’t think it was brazen incompetence. Why had he done it? Had he meant to honor the deal she’d been fishing for, a head start in exchange for Vance and all she knew of the poison? No. Locke had lied to her before, easily. Cheerfully. Why not now, when he had the most reason to? Like the interrogation before, Vance had changed things. Why that was, and the rest of the puzzle besides, seemed momentarily beyond her reach. Groaning under her breath, Novus swept her trash into her fist and slid out of the booth. Never mind the hunter, she needed to slip the snare. And to be honest, she didn’t like her chances alone. Drifting into the group near the vidscreen, the Dark Lady made vague murmured conversation, commiserating. Her father hadn’t made it home from work. Or, she was stranded with her speeder parked on the other side of the barricade. Whatever other easy lie came to mind; these people were absorbed in their own troubles. She asked for directions to a handful of likely places and surreptitiously pocketed a younger woman’s rhinestone-bedazzled comlink from where it was charging on the counter. Finally, she took the hostess into her confidence. And insisted on overpaying for the coffee with Arjha’s credit chit. ”I hate to ask, but I really could use a favor. You see, my husband and I had a terrible fight this morning. I’m not ready to see him, I know that, but with all that’s happened … He must be quite mad to find me. Could you pass on a message, if he comes here? Thank you, I really appreciate it. Let’s see … He’s about my height. Long brown hair, beard, gray eyes. Dimples. He’ll say pretty much anything to change your mind. Answers to Tyrvast.” Hi Honey! Looks like you missed me. Sorry about that, but I really do think we should give this break a fair chance. For now, you should know that I'm safe. Again, I'm warning you: don't come looking for me. But if you do, at least have the courtesy to bring my stuff. Smoochies, - N Back on the street, Novus sent a quick text message to a number she had memorized and started walking. She would have liked to see Locke’s face when he got that note, if he got it. Distaste or horror seemed the most likely response but better yet, maybe he’d laugh. Soon enough, Tano called her back. ”Yes?" ”Hey, uh. I need to crash with you a few days. Can we meet somewhere?” The voice on the other end hesitated for just a moment. Novus couldn’t blame him for that, as potentially devastating as a refusal might be. Tonight’s job had swallowed up six months of the man’s life. All that effort wasted now of course, but Tano would still get paid. Though not if she was stuck in a Republic prison. He was a smart man, she didn't have to say it. ”Spacer Quarter. The Drunken Thranta.” The line went dead. Novus tossed the comlink into a waste bin and kept walking.

[Fromikeable]

Despite Locke's instructions, Vance could see it. That tiny, hidden essence of a smile on the Jedi Knight's face. It was subtle, the way it just barely tugged at his cheeks. The effort to keep it in, to hide it, to make sure that it wasn't seen was obvious. More than that, it was justified. This wasn't the time to be smiling, let alone congratulating people. Jedi and Sith politics aside, people were choking to death, buildings were on fire, and practically speaking, terrorists were on the loose.

But he just couldn't help appreciating that smile for all it was worth. Because it was the exact kind of expression he'd subsisted on, that he'd survived on, since he'd started wearing black robes.

As Locked turned away, his presence flickering like a man seeking out others, Vance turned his eyes toward the city around them. Off in the distance, smoke rose, implying large fires. Within the hall the courtyard was adjoined to, even with his presence self-contained, he could feel the very lives of the poisoned nobles and business people flicker and fade. Even keeping him in the dark, Novus had executed the evening masterfully. If it hadn't been for him and his blunder, he doubted Locke would have ever even gotten the chance to talk to them, their interactions limited to an intense game of cat and mouse as they would have attempted escape.

For a moment, he couldn't help but mull over who would win. Novus had the subtle abilities of the wind. Locke had the investigative nose of a bloodhound. Would one have moved just a hair faster than the other? Or would the chase have been decided by weaker links, such as himself and Jazen?

That reminded Vance to wince. He'd have to apologize to Locke later tonight for possibly reducing his padawan's fertility. Even if that technically wasn't a problem for Jedi.

Locke's returned attention and frank question ended the entire train of thought, causing Vance to sigh as the evening came rushing back into consideration. He couldn't help chewing his bottom lip in thought for a second as he stared at the ground, picking his words carefully once more.

"I can't pretend that I can ignore what we did tonight. Not even for her." She hadn't been so tight-lipped about their plans for the evening because she'd thought he could sleep knowing them, after all. He wasn't sure whether to hate her or love her for that. Both, probably.

"I'm not going to be a problem. But I can't be much help either." Giving a pained smile, he rose his shoulders in a tiny shrug, showing his palms as a small wave of guilt washed over him. "She knew that. She even planned for it, just like she plans for everything else." Looking up at the smoke pluming up above them again, he took a tiny breath.

"I'm not your enemy either, but you are hers. So it's a safe bet that she's already making new moves. Honestly, there's no way she's at the ship. The way she thinks, she's probably changing everything from her shoe size to her bank account numbers right now." He huffed a single laugh.

"She wouldn't trust me to keep any of that to myself. She knows me too well." Maybe she would view this as a chance to cut her losses. At his best, he'd been a defiant, loud-mouthed apprentice. At his worst, he'd been a straight-up pain in her ass. No matter which, he'd probably been annoying, always hesitant and resistant to the things she had to do, the lifestyle she had to live.

Why in the galaxy would she try to save him? It was her chance for freedom from his nagging.

[Rugs]

A sigh at Vance’s words. Relieved, but not free of stress. What to do with him now? Could he ask him to help capture teacher? And what if he refused? Try to force him to? Throw him in cuffs and haul him to a Republic prison?

That’d surely do wonders for the Order’s image in the eyes of student it had already failed.

“Thank you Vance,” Locke said. His tone was earnest, and a short nod of his head accompanied the words. “Listen kid, I know all this has been hard on you, but, keep your head up. Learn from it.” A trio of white speeders roared overhead, disturbing the bushes in the quiet garden. They raced to the palace’s front, sirens wailing in sync with the flashing of their blue and red lights. Ambulances. Locke needed to check on the guests anyway, before trying to draw the net closed around Novus.

“Don’t let one mistake snowball into another,” he said, absentmindedly as he followed the speeders’ paths through the air. “Anyway, hang around here, why don’t ya?” He looked back to Vance as he started to turn toward the garden’s exit. “I can’t let you leave just yet.”

Locke hurried away. His temples seemed to throb. The night was just getting started.

Maybe one of those ambulances would have some headache medicine.

---

The hours that followed passed in a whirlwind. Locke led a team of investigators to the vessel Vance mentioned near the mountains. Vance, he brought with him. Jazen stayed behind at the palace to oversee the response for the mass poisoning.

The ships were where Vance said they would be. Apparently abandoned and devoid of any useful information on first inspection. A call in to planetary security got them taken into Alderaanian custody and moved to a secure location for further inspection.

Knowing what Locke knew of Novus, he doubted anything would come of it. But it at least denied an escape. If that was an exit she’d even intended to use.

From there, the search began in earnest as more resources arrived in the city. Locke shed his formal wear for more comfortable plainclothes — it helped to stand out less, he found. The cordon, on the ground and in the air, was taking shape as Locke got word that she’d been seen at a small diner.

He hurried there to find a place that was quiet now. A few workers swept near the tables, while others cleaned up behind the counter. A woman stood near a register, counting the night’s earnings. She looked up as the door opened and Locke, with Vance behind him, entered the otherwise empty restaurant.

“Hello, miss,” he said, walking to the woman at the counter. “I’m looking for someone who I believe has been by here. She’s-”

“Oh, she told me you’d be coming. Tyrvast, ain’t it?” Was that judgement in the woman’s voice. Locke maintained a plain expression. “She left a note.”

“Yes,” he said slowly.

The woman reached under the counter and produced a folded note. Locke raised a brow, wary. He took it in his hand, unsure of what was at play and read it.

Then he looked very flatly at the woman, then back at the paper, then at the woman again. He rolled his eyes in irritation and crumpled the stupid thing up and shoved it in his pocket.

Smoochies indeed.

“You shouldn’t be fightin’ with people,” the woman said casually as she put the credit chits into a small portable safe for safekeeping. “I don’t know what you and that nice young lady have between you, but you should leave her alone.”

Locke grit his teeth, then smiled. “Well, I wish I could ma’am, but it’s not as simple as that,” he pulled an ID from his pocket and flashed it at her. It was styled after the same that Republic investigators used. It’s meaning was obvious. “See that lady’s caused a whole lot of trouble for a whole lot of people. Now why don’t you see about pulling some camera footage for my partner and I here?”

The woman blanched and hurried into the back.

[Neology]

One day slipped by, tortuously slow. Clear evening to overcast day, sticky late spring air with the scent of smoke on the breeze coming off the lake. The motel was one of the cheapest in the spacer quarter, the Dieringer Sleep Company, soon packed with so many other grounded galactics that she doubted they had a single room free. How long could they keep the planetary capital locked down? Watching the news, Novus couldn’t guess. If it was a question of fear verses expense, then possibly quite awhile. The rumors buzzing around the Dieringer had it that the Sith monster had actually bit off a policeman’s head on camera – glimpsed in the background of some hastily withdrawn footage. Lurid and sensational, but Novus had no reason to doubt that particular bit of gossip. Sol’Kanar’s jaws were certainly big enough, his behavior based on little more than animal instinct. By contrast, the events at the Palace of Light were underplayed. She kept the vidscreen on for most of the day, needing an accurate count of the damage she had done in absence of some other occupying thought. At least there was Tano. The assassin was in and out periodically, smuggling in her meals and some properly fitting clothes. Weapons, too. A matched set of knives, handles worn satiny smooth from use. His demeanor was ... Not cold, exactly, but patently professional. Novus sensed that she’d disappointed him somehow. Perhaps he had been right, perhaps it would have been better to run immediately. There was a kind of intangible yet undeniable logic to it. Surely it would be easier to manufacture one screw up for the Jedi than to hide, perfectly, for an unknowable number of days. That evening, she shot down the next escape plan. The excuses she made sounded hollow to her own ears. It would be better if she left Vance right where he was. She didn’t really believe that Locke would do anything to the kid – he obviously cared about him, even if she couldn’t figure out why. At the very least, he seemed disinclined to murder her in front of him. But Locke hadn’t been the only Jedi there that night, or so a small stubborn voice seemed to say in the back of her mind. Still ... All she had to do was get away, and then everything would be as it had been before she’d saved Vance from the rakghouls – and consequently utterly destroyed his hopes of ever becoming a Jedi knight. There would be no frightful reputation to feed, no people left to protect. What an enticing, miserable thought. Novus was drinking a warmish beer from a squeeze bulb on the patio, grappling with herself, when Tano offered up another suggestion: set a trap. He walked her through the details, voice pitched low, smiling for any potential observers. Novus snorted once and set down her drink. ”I like it.” They worked through half the night. By morning it was raining and Tano was long gone. It wouldn’t be too much longer, she thought. After all, the Jedi would have found her eventually if she didn’t move, didn’t go someplace he’d already been or far, far beyond his reach. Novus sat at the foot of the sheet-stripped bed in the silvery light, a large pair neon pink of hearing protectors hanging around her neck. As she waited, she strained her muted senses as much as she dared to without giving herself away. There was always something strangely freeing in moments like this, when the path was set. When she could just begin to perceive events slipping out of her control. Infuriating at times, too. But freeing.

[Rugs]

“So this is the place, eh?” Locke stood in the middle of a crowded street, in the spacer quarter. The Dieringer Sleep Company, some third-rate motel sprawled across a street corner that it had, from the looks of things, occupied for decades.

“Yes sir, Master Jedi,” said Fitz Runy, a lead investigator with planetary security. “We’ve got it down to the room.”

“I’d expect better for a Dark Lord,” Locke mused aloud. “But I guess beggars can’t be choosers, can they?” Something nice would be too obvious. Easier to disappear into the unrelenting mass of people stranded in the capital city by Locke’s own blockade.

Well, the sooner they dealt with it, they sooner the innocent could be free. But it’d have to wait just a while longer. Locke sighed, putting his hands into his black SIS jacket. The wind blowing down the street was biting.

“Get a perimeter set up around this place,” he said. “Streets closed. I don’t want anyone that doesn’t belong nearby. I don’t care if it tips her off. She won’t have anywhere to run.” His expression turned grim as he looked at the motel, at the very room they believed Novus to be holed up in. I won’t have blood on my hands for this. And I won’t let you get any more on yours.

“We move in at the crack of dawn,” he said, turning to head back to the mobile command center. “Let’s do this right, people.”

---

Aldera’s skyscrapers still hid the sun as the earliest breaths of dawn found Locke and Vance waiting outside the room. At other room, agents cleared out last remaining guests from the motel — the most alarming step to their target, put off til the very last moment.

No one else but me and you, he thought. Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be.

Locke inhaled deeply. Rain fell, slow but steady. The jacket afforded some comfort against the cold, but it was hard to ignore. He glanced at Vance, wondering at the turmoil that was surely tearing away at the young man’s heart.

He regretted Vance’s pain. He truly did. But he could not turn back.

“We’re clear,” Fitz said through a comm. Locke nodded. The rest of the team would stay outside unless things escalated. Hopefully, this could be resolved without a fight.

He looked at Vance, smiling ruefully. “Here we go, kid.” The door opened, and there she was, waiting.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

But what was that thing in the room with her?

[Neology]

Novus inhaled deeply, blue eyes flickering open. She’d never been one for meditation, easily bored, thoughts chasing around and around in her head. The tiresome apparatus of Republic justice closed in slowly, room by room. Anticipation coiled up and down her spine, whet her mouth, narrowed her focus down to something electric and decisive. It was the very best kind of high. But the Jedi was taking too long. Second thoughts colored the horizon. Novus practiced a self-satisfied smile and resolved to bullshit through them regardless. Of course there would be delays. Let no one be hurt. Yes, she remembered needling Nemsee about that, his concern for collateral damage. Until Vance had given that particular game away, much like this one. The door clicked open, magnetic lock dead and audibly disabled some minutes ago. Novus let the mask on her presence drop, breath catching in momentary relief before the remaining air hissed out between her teeth. Her wayward apprentice was there, sure enough. Just behind that bit of wall. But she could feel many others, varying degrees of vigilant or apprehensive or excited, scattered to form a tidy perimeter. She stood, the leather wallet with the knives a conscious weight against her hip. Poorly balanced against the remote hidden in her palm. ”Well, I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye. I had better hopes for you, though.” All those minds, a buffet of options if she chose to force her way in. She could slip this noose yet, though the next and the next after that remained hazy and fraught. C’mon, a few more steps. Novus needed Locke in the room, at the perfect convergence point between the stacks. ”Was it for the fame, then? Not enough cameras in the garden for you? I could cry, if you’ll wait a moment. That’d make your career.” Perfect. Novus jerked the ear protectors onto her head and jammed down on the button. Even expecting it, the sound rattled her bones as the jury rigged device roared to life. She dived past Locke, aiming a vicious kick at the side of his knee as she went. Nearly colliding with Vance, she pulled at the teenager by the wrist. ”Speeder! Which way?” Novus shouted, briefly glancing at his face, uncomfortably aware that he probably couldn't hear her.

[Fromikeable]

Walking through the hotel with Locke proved a surreal experience. The SIS jacket the man wore highlighted the unrealness, the sheer fiction of the scenario. The treatment he'd received as a prisoner had encouraged it. No handcuffs. No posted guards or limited movement. Not even a threat of incarceration or harm. Vance had followed Locke around for the rest of the evening and early morning as though he had been just had used to be; a Jedi padawan observing a skilled Knight.

That was really the thing convincing him that all of this must have been a dream.

It came to a head outside Novus's door. Staring at the spruced metal with an almost dull sense, Vance was struck by the conflict that drove his mind to unthinking. Watching Locke give him a smile and a "Here we go, kid" was heartwarming, nostalgic almost. This was what he had wanted, hadn't it? To become an Investigator, to go hunting down killers and Force-using threats to the peace of everyday life? This had been exactly what Locke had described his job as, and exactly what he had fantasized about while working through tickets in the Corps.

Feeling Novus through the wall, however, that entire line of thinking fizzled. As she came into view, the snark in her voice ringing in his ears, he couldn't help but stare past the speakers at her. She looked a little wild, her trap about to spring, her back-up plan playing out. He had no doubt that's what this was. He knew her too well to think that she would have just sat here without a plan. Novus always had a plan. She always had an angle, an escape, even just if it was just a shrewd thought. She even planned around him, his obnoxious intolerance and moral outrages, even when it landed her in situations like this. Staring down one of the Republic's best investigators with a jury-rigged trap.

As the speakers blared, Vance wondered why she bothered. His thinking was split by the noise just as it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, she didn't dislike that moral outrage.

A Darth Lady with a genuine fondness for the desperate defense of Jedi ideals. The speakers must have been frying his brain more than he thought.

He wasn't thinking much at that point, though. With his skull feeling somewhere between melted to slush and shaken to hell, he gave no resistance to the hand grabbing his. The force on his arm ushered his feet to move, running out of the room and down the hall with her. As his ears rung and his head swam, his fingers finally gripped her back, holding on tight.

She shouted at him, forcing his eyes to refocus as his mind tried to work through the pain. What had she said? He hadn't been looking at her lips. She was glancing around, they were on an elevated floor surrounded by police, and they were both fugitives. What did that mean that she would be asking? What was she thinking at a time like this?

She's coming up with a plan. Giving it his best guess, Vance pointed up at the ceiling, his voice rattling out as a disoriented mess.

"Roof!" He had seen police on the roof before he and Locke had come in. They were far closer to the roof than the ground floor; those cops would reach them first. If she had asked about the nearest threat, it was them. If she had asked about the nearest escape, it was their speeder. If she had simply yelled at him , then he'd just hollered some nonsense.

A safe bet no matter what.

[Rugs]

Locke ignored Novus’ verbal proddings. He stepped into the room so as to not be stuck in the doorway if something happened, but kept a wary eye on the things in the room with her. Were those speakers. Novus suddenly flipped the head protectors on and Locke realized a half-heartbeat too late what was about to transpire.

The noise that screeched out of the speakers was an awful, nearly nauseating affair that rattled his bones as he grit his teeth and fought the urge to reach instinctively for his ears. Novus lunged. Locke backed to the side, slowed by the indescribable noise bouncing around in his skull. He drew his pistol as a flower of pain blossomed in his leg from the kick and swore to himself.

Novus was trying to escape. A few hastily-fired blaster shots put the damned speakers out of commision — Locke felt it as the vibrations stopped, rather than heard it. The damnable ringing in his ears offered little signs of stopping and he staggered back outside onto the walkway.

Something buzzed in his ear. It felt like an insect, trying to burrow into his head. Locke realized, vaguely, that it was his comm as Fitz was probably screaming at him about the target running away with that one Jedi-or-whatever kid in tow. Locke strained for the Force, but his senses were too scrambled by the noise to grasp it consistently--it slipped away again and again, like silt between his fingers.

I don’t need the damn Force, he thought with a scowl. He stopped and raised his pistol. It was tempting to shoot her in the back. That’d stop her. But it felt wrong to gun down a fleeing foe. And with Vance running behind her...

Three shots rang out. One hit the ground hind their feet. The second hit a door they’d just passed by the wall beside them. The third crashed into the ceiling a few steps ahead of them. All wide, intentionally. All meant as a warning as Locke raised his hand, fingers splayed and facing the teams arrayed in the motel lot. Their weapons raised a one.

“If my hand... closes,” the telepathic connection was tenuous at best with the Force so presently elusive. “they... shoot.” What other Jedi say, about such a warning, and to a Dark Lord? A chance for her to take action while he still fumbled to grasp the Force. But she had something with her most did not — someone she cared about, if his read on what Vance had said, and her little note in the diner, was right.

Sorry for makin’ ya a prop, kid.

“Stop... If you don’t want... Vance hurt.”

Locke prayed she’d stop. He wasn't certain he could order his men to shoot at Vance if she didn't.

[Neology]

For a few moments, everything was quite perfect. The trap had worked on the first try and Vance was running behind her, seemingly no worse for his time in Jedi custody. She had won. Of course, all those people outside with guns might have seen it differently. Her thoughts swept out and over them, collecting a handful of tangled puppets’ strings. They were of questionable use. Novus had no time to be subtle, no time to be thorough. A rain of plaster fell on her head and down her back, the first indication that someone was shooting at her. Novus whipped around, drawing and throwing one of her knives in a single fluid motion. Her forward momentum was ruined by the effort, forcing a stuttering back step. The Jedi’s words invaded her mind, staggered out like he was short of breath. Novus glanced over the railing once, confirming what she already knew. Barrels fixed like argus eyes, Locke had conjured up a proper firing squad for this occasion. If their timing was any good, that’d be far too many bolts to deflect even if she had her lightsabers. She stepped back, almost hugging the wall. “My turn for a grand gesture, Vance. Keep going, please. Find Tano.” Whatever happened next, she was fairly certain that he wouldn’t like to see it. Stars, she didn’t particularly want to see it. If only Nemsee was less stubborn … Well, then she’d like him less and this would all be much easier. “Can you even hear me in there right now? Good for you. Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still on your feet.” Novus sent back, turning slowly and raising her hands, showing empty palms. “Is this really the game you want to play?” She flashed a sharp smile and took several steps forward – she’d not let Vance get shot accidentally, just for standing too close to her. Staring Nemsee down, she noted how the last few moments had not been kind to him, now deaf and bleeding in his borrowed clothes. Though, the authority that jacket represented, that was not borrowed. Pity, but looking at him gave her the beginnings of a strange idea. Hospitals were, on the whole, easier to escape from than prisons. And it would be fascinating to see if he’d finally shoot to kill. “I don’t think you should make threats that you aren’t prepared to go through with, Locke. And I did make you a promise, the other night.” Her gaze flickered toward the parking lot below, pulling at those strings as though she had all the time in the world and not a fraction of a second.