New Home, New Questions

[Rugs]

The Blind Eye had been something of a place of myth to Io’an a few weeks ago. Not unreachable, like the countless lands of thousands of legends from as many cultures across the Galaxy, but nowhere he’d spent any real sort of time.

Now he lived in the casino. That was strange. Liberating, though, for him and the rest of the slicers that formed Memento’s crew, to be free from being under the Cartel’s thumb. They’d taken up residence in the basement--Io’an laughed to himself at how some of the jokes from schoolyard bullies seemed to ring true now. But it was a nicer place than their old one, and he didn't have any complaints, now that the move-in was mostly done.

With the work done, Io’an set about cleaning himself of the sweat of having to haul crap around and help with repositioning requests of “No, Yo-yo, I think the couch would look better over there” and “what if you moved the servers just a little bit that way?” and so on.

Once that was done, and he dressed in casual clothes for the evening, he set about wandering his new home. It was, very much, a casino. What lurked below it all, though — or perhaps above, he thought, as he glanced to the second floor — was what made it so damned interesting.

Coming to know the Eye crew had been an unexpected, but welcome, development from the events surrounding the Blind Auction. Getting to know Lidah Faine, the Compeer of the Exchange, and someone who seemed as much a legend as anyone in those thousand tales, well... he was still processing it.

In a way, all of the rumors he’d heard about her seemed to be crazy talk. She was grounded. She was real in a way that street talk never seemed to account for.

In others, they didn’t seem to go far enough. He still wondered, sometimes, if he’d really seen her back atop that roof with blue lightsabers ablaze in her hands. And before that, when she had been in that room at the Auction...

He was walking up the stairs to the second floor before he knew it, to where she sometimes came out to watch the casino as it swelled to life in the evening. He’d hoped to ask about her power during the droid job, but a chance never quite arose. Maybe she’d refuse him asking anyway, but he had to ask.

Io’an started to feel a fool as he spotted Lidah and started to approach her. His steps faltered as he momentarily considered going back down the first floor instead of wasting her time with his curiosity. But made himself keep going. The questions would nag at him until he asked, and if he was going to live here, he might as well.

“Ms. Faine,” he said quietly as he came toward her. “I um... We’ve gotten everything settled down in the basement, mostly.” He turned to look out over the casino floor as well, placing a steadying hand on the railing. “I... thanks for letting us move in, I mean.”

A flush of heat told him his cheeks were reddening. Embarrassment rolled over him, threatening to worsen the issue. “I wanted to ask something. If I may.”

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

Lidah contemplated an excellent view of the Blind Eye’s major gaming floor from the relative quiet of her private balcony and crossed her arms, failing to stifle a particularly dogged sense of dread. It had been with her for some time now, fed and watered by the strange rumors coming out of the galactic east. Not that she needed much encouragement. Nar Shaddaa would endure regardless, of that she had no doubt. But the Exchange itself and, beyond that, her little coterie of friends and contacts? It was hard to say. By all rights, the Hutts should have reached out and crushed her by now. For Botto and the Basilisk and a string of other recent oversteps. Footsteps on the stair. Few others had the freedom to roam the entire building – and few of them would be polite about it. Lidah nodded at Io’an and made some slight effort to relax, hands reordered from cupping elbows to laying idle in her lap. ”You’re welcome.” It had been something of a pleasant surprise when Qiki had decided to move Memento’s slicer group into the Eye itself. It worked out much cheaper than acquiring and fortifying some place else. What little oversight Lidah insisted on keeping on her newest investment now seemed almost neighborly rather than obvious and invasive. ”Of course.” Was he … Turning pink? Lidah pasted on a particularly bland and inoffensive smile. ”Though if this is about Thel, I think he’d appreciate it more if you spoke to him directly.”

[Rugs]

Lidah’s greeting was welcoming enough. But why wouldn’t it be? She was the Compeer, sure, but didn’t hold herself up as some god reigning over her kingdom — at least as far as Io’an had seen. And besides he worked for her, so why wou-

“Though if this is about Thel, I think he’d appreciate it more if you spoke to him directly.”

That flush of heat felt suddenly like an unseen furnace was open in front of Io’an’s face. He knew he was turning red now, and that embarrassed him so much that he even felt the tips of his pointed ears growing warm.

He took a moment, to swallow, trying — and failing — to make his face carefully neutral. “The-Thel?” he stammered. “Why would you say that?” He raised a hand before she could answer and turned around, gripping the rail as he leaned slightly forward and closed his eyes.

Deep breaths. His old Master had said the Force could be a comfort in times of frustration. Io’an had never found that to be the case. Immersing himself in the Force often felt more like diving into an ocean without a raft for safety.

“I’m that obvious, huh?” he asked after a few moments to collect himself. Io’an didn’t make any efforts to hide his preferences in partners, of course, but he hadn’t thought his pining for Thel was so... easy to see.

He laughed a little, more at his embarrassment than anything else. “Well, Ms. Faine, I will uh, keep that in mind, but that’s not what I meant to ask about.” Though now that she’d said that, did Thel share his preferences? With the way he’d spent all evening at the Auction with that dark-haired girl — and fought the Zeltron over her — Io’an had assumed otherwise.

But where to even start with his question? He eyed Lidah for a moment, his embarrassment fading for the the usual sense of nerves. “Back at the Blind Auction, when you went into the room with that Zeltron and the other guy...” his voice trailed off. That was, quite possibly, the strangest way to start this. Io’an sighed. “Well, I... I don’t mean to get any of that. But I felt something, in the Foce. Just for a few moments. It was... a new presence. It was strong--one of the strongest I’ve ever felt.

“I didn’t mean to pry, but...” Io’an shrugged, looking briefly back at the gaming floor below. Even now, it was hard to get used to the rush of life that filled the Blind Eye. “I’ve always had a knack for feeling things through the Force.”

“Anway, I told myself it couldn’t have been you, because I’d never felt that presence before, and it disappeared. But then we went on that rooftop to deal with the droids and you had the lightsabers and I couldn’t ignore it.”

Io’an paused again, lips pursed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what I want to ask about all that, really. I want to ask, ‘You’re a Force user?’ But the answer seems obvious. I gues I just wonder sometimes,” he said, suddenly finding it hard to meet her gaze, “how someone so powerful came to lead the Exchange. I remember the stories of when the Exchange put bounties on Jedi. Centuries ago, but still, it’s a big change.” He felt a knot in his throat and hoped he hadn’t asked to pry too much.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”I’m that obvious, huh?” ”Maybe I’m extra perceptive?” Lidah offered, crooked smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. Obvious wasn’t bad in her opinion, especially concerning Vance. In fact, it was the only type of interest that she thought him ever likely to notice. Though whether or not he’d feel the same way about Io’an, she could not even begin to guess. She loved Vance like a son and had lived with him more or less continuously for nearly ten years, sometimes in quite close quarters. From unsupervised weeks on Zeltros to the personal and financial freedoms he enjoyed now … Well, he’d never brought anyone home, as far as she knew. She would prefer to think that wasn’t representative of a lack of trust between them. As Io’an went on, Lidah grew more serious, more attentive. His questions were rather indirect – it would be easy to brush this encounter off, send the slicer away with little more information than he had now. Instead, she motioned for him to sit across from her. ”Ah. Yes, that was probably me at the auction.” Or perhaps Locke, a distant second with his interest in preserving the fiction of Tyrvast’s modest talents. Despite commonly being seen in extraordinary company and the bit about Fork in the news. ”I wasn’t sure words alone would be enough. That young man seemed rather intent on calling me out in front of everyone.” Lidah leaned forward, resting her elbow on the table and her chin upon her palm. She stared at Io’an for a long moment, coming slowly around to some decision. It’s always better to know ... ”Look. We live under the same – albeit very large – roof, now. I understand that we cannot go on like we have thus far, pretending to ignore certain facts about one another. “But. Just how honest do you want me to be? Once you know, I can’t take it back. And I’m not about to release your contract just because you didn’t like the story.”

[Rugs]

Io’an simply nodded as Lidah began to speak and sat at her direction. He frowned slightly, though, at the mention of “that young mon.”

“Zexva,” he said, in the closest thing he could produce to a growl. His brow knitted in irritation at the memory of the Dark Side-tainted Zeltron. He’d slipped into the Auction, caused a mess, and slipped away. Io’an couldn’t muster anything but contempt for him, and that was on his generous days.

Funny, how perception changed when he wasn’t swimming in the intoxicating cocktail of Zeltron pheromones.

“I apologize for his...” Io’an gestured as if searching for something while his brain rolled through a list of words, “presence. I shouldn’t have let him in. I knew he might be trouble, but he’s not the only type like that. I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to antagonize you or your friends and start a fight in the middle of the dance floor. I’ll be sure to bar him from the Auction in the future.” He paused. “If that’s ever even an issue.”

Lidah continued, and Io’an wondered at what mysterious past she hinted at. He supposed she was right about pretending to know things about each other, but he also supposed he didn’t have much to hide.

But her, on the other hand...

”Just how honest do you want me to be?” The question and the gentle warning that followed was strangely arresting. Io’an felt his stomach tighten, as color drained from his face.

“How... honest?” He swallowed, mind racing. What could Ms. Faine say that would be so alarming that it could scare him into even considering release from what was — in its admittedly-short lifespan thus far — a very agreeable contract?

He reached to the Force, some part of him clinging to Master Yiu’s advice to seek comfort in the Force in times of distress. Yet for all the old man’s insistence, Io’an had never agreed with him on that particular matter. His eyes squeezed momentarily as he pushed the Force away.

“Ms. Faine,” he started slowly, wondering at the words he’d say even as they came from his mouth. “I’m not sure what you have in your past, or what you’ve done. But I do know that now, in the present, you’ve welcomed me in and my friends here and treated us with respect..” For a moment, his eyes met hers. It was a fleeting thing--Io’an had never been one for eye contact. He shrugged. “You can be as honest with me as you like. Whatever your story is, I don’t think I plan on going anywhere.”

He struggled not to grip the arms of his chair as he awaited a response.

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”That’s his name, is it? Huh.” She had some messages to amend, in that case. Waving off Io’an’s apology, Lidah just shook her head. ”There’s really no need for that. We can’t know that he wouldn’t have found another way in. With those Black Sun thugs, for example.” One shoulder rose and fell. She hadn’t known that Io’an was involved with the Sith’s inexplicable appearance, but no one attached to the Exchange had been seriously hurt. It was easy to forgive, in such circumstances. And if the Sith survived his return to Dromund Kaas, she would be very surprised. A standing bounty had been placed in the days following. Just in case. Lidah smiled tightly as Io’an went on. The assurances seemed quite sincere, so far as she could tell. But how far could you trust that? ”Well. No choice now but to tell you, really. I imagine you and the others are uniquely equipped to go digging. And curious, obviously.” Lidah drew a small remote from her pocket and pressed a short sequence of buttons. The sounds of the Eye faded out as a discrete energy field came to life, a bubble that encapsulated their balcony, ensuring that their conversation would not be overheard. ”I grew up on Coruscant, with the Jedi. Left when I was maybe about your age? Common enough back then – they were a lot more picky before the war thinned their ranks.” She let her eyes wander back to the floor below. Io’an seemed more comfortable the less direct attention she paid and a bit of that was true in reverse. Lidah kept secrets, she didn’t share them for less than a blood oath or, at the least, a truly embarrassing pile of credits. ”There was a man, Kenneth Mori. I left for him; I was pretty naive at that age, I guess. Nothing romantic or sordid, but the way he spoke was inspiring. Manipulative, I see now. The Galaxy came to know him as Darth Paxis.” Lidah chewed her lip, eager to put this part of her story away again as quickly as possible. Mori’s specter was her first and truest fear. ”When the Sith Order reemerged, I had already been his apprentice for some time. When his illness finally destroyed him … Well. I was quite thoroughly entwined by then. My name was ‘Novus,’ though my work was rarely public. Taris was a turning point.” Vance had been a teenager, then. Io’an was a little younger, perhaps? How much did he remember about that, she wondered. Perhaps it was distant enough for him. ”Actually, uh. A lot of that’s in the book. ‘Whispers on the Wind’ etcetera, by an old sweetheart of mine. He thought I was dead at the time of writing, of course.” That had been rather strange to discover out in the wild. Thankfully there had been no picture on the cover. ”That was how I got out. Faked my death. A couple Sith know but we’re generally not on speaking terms. That situation with Zexva was a messy accident that I hope not to repeat.”

[Rugs]

Io’an’s head spun.

“Novus?” he asked, not sure what to make of it. Had he heard the name before? There were others — other sith, other Darths that seemed to be in the news as the war lumbered, inexorably toward Thustra. He had been young when it started. Thirteen. The same year, Master Yiu had found him when his innate talent harvesting the natural energy around him to produce sudden, sometimes dramatic changes manifested itself in a particularly stressful afterschool bully encounter.

They’d left by then, far away from the Galactic North, where the wars raged. Io’an had tried not to think about it, but with Thustra so close to the ever-approaching Sith and the rampaging Mandalorians, it was hard to ignore.

Novus? He closed his eyes, pressing mentally back against the sudden throbbing in his temples. Yes, he remembered the name. Around the time of Taris, as she said. He was sixteen then. He remembered seeing news of the battle in a cantina during a stop in the Core with Master Yiu. The battle’s devastation motivated his brother to join the Republic military.

Thustra fell a few months later. But it had been a quiet thing. The Republic had never put much emphasis on defending the relative backwater world, and from his parents’ accounts, not much had changed under the new leadership beyond some stricter, at times nastier, security.

“I remember that name,” he said slowly, opening his eyes. “They called you the Butcher, you know. After the battle. At least in the Republic.” He remembered the reports of the execution, of how the Empress had slain Novus as she rose to power. His sea green eyes met hers for a long moment, unsure of what to think. “The Empire took my home after that battle.”

Io’an sighed, looking away. He wasn’t sure what to think. She hadn’t truly wronged him--in the time he’d known her, she’d done no wrong. She’d been a tremendous help, more than anything. “But my mother says it’s not so bad. No worse than it was. They were opening some new CommUnity Center or something in the middle of town last time I spoke to her. Everyone seemed pretty excited about it.” A small frown touched his face, a subtle downturn at the edge of his lips. “The Republic never did anything like that, anyway.”

For a long moment, Io’an fell silent. If Lidah was who she said she was — and he had no reason to doubt her — then his suspicions about her strength made sense. And is Master Yiu, former Jedi and hawk toward the Dark Side that he was, had anything to say about it, she was a mortal enemy to everyone, not just the Republic. To himself, to Qiki and Reflex, to Thel and Ylva and Jayec and all the others.

But Io’an was not Master Yiu, and he’d seen Lidah’s work and her interaction with those who worked for her firsthand. She’d given no reason not to trust her so far--in revealing her past, she’d done exactly the opposite.

“What is it like?” he asked, looking up at her. touched his voice and he leaned slightly forward in a way he hadn’t been a moment earlier. “The Dark Side, I mean. My master always used to say that it was inescapable--that its taint was uncleansable. Whenever I touch the Force I’m... afraid that I’ll accidentally tap it — afraid that I’ll slip into it and never escape.

“But you’re not the monster he’d make you out to be, based on your past,” he smiled subtly. “You don’t run around yelling about hate and rage and all those things I was told I was doomed to if I ever fell to it.”

[Neology]

[googlefont="News Cycle"]

”Did they now?” Lidah drawled, brow creasing. The Butcher – of Taris, she supposed. Not very elegant, at least as far as epitaphs went. It brought to mind heavy cleavers and blood soaked aprons. That was not how she would choose to remember herself. In truth, she preferred not to think of those days at all. ”I thought the rakghouls would be like other animals, that I could control them. They were not and I could not.” Excuses never sounded right to her ears. Lidah fell silent a moment, listening to Io’an instead. Eventually, she spoke briefly into her wrist comm, ordering a bottle of wine brought up. ”I think that’s how it is for most. Day-to-day, it doesn’t matter if your taxes trace back to Coruscant or Dromund Kaas. But you would not have wanted the Empire to discover your Force sensitivity.” Community centers, that did not sound like the Renata she knew. But seven years was a long time. It seemed a sign of an Empress who felt, at last, secure in her power. That would be good for the Empire, of course, but not so much for the rest of the galaxy. To think, it could have been my ass warming the Imperial throne … If things had been just a little different. Curie delivered the wine personally, was dismissed by a slight nod. Lidah poured her own, filling the bell shaped glass half way. A touch beyond the bounds of good manners but her hands wanted something to do and smoking would have been worse. It covered the silence while she considered Io’an’s question. ”Evil always has to be chosen. You wont accidentally fall to the dark side, Io’an.” Lidah sipped from her cup. ”For some, it starts as a weapon of last resort. Sometimes your only other options will suck. Hence, the Jedi teach that there is no death, there is the Force.” Lidah drained her glass and leaned forward to refill it. ”As for what it’s like … Well. That’s hard. There’s a lot of room for interpretation, as with anything else that can’t lay itself out in plain Basic. It’s powerful, sure – with a cost to match. “That’s nice of you to say, but I don’t think I’ve changed very much. People rarely do.” Lidah leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling. She still had it in her to do terrible things, to protect this place and the people she loved. She felt that certainty in her bones. “But how about you? You’re young, talented … Presumably doing something you love. That must be nice. Are you happy?”

[Rugs]

“You won't accidentally fall to the dark side, Io’an.”

Io’an nodded, leaning forward to pour wine into one of the glasses that’d arrived with Lidah’s bottle. He studied the dark red liquid, listening as Lidah continued to speak. What she said had to be true, but it was hard to ignore the countless ominous warnings Master Yiu had drilled into his head through the years.

All it took was a slip, the old master had said, and then you might be down a hole from which there was no escape. But Master Yiu had held a militant streak in... a number of areas. Io’an often suspected it was why the wizened Epicanthix had left the Jedi Order.

But Lidah was a former Sith, and Master Yiu — as far as he’d ever told Io’an--had never fallen to the Dark Side. It made sense to trust Lidah.

“That is comforting to know,” he started after pulling the glass away from his lips. “Thank you.”

Io’an titled his head slightly, thoughtful at Lidah’s statement. “Perhaps,” he said. “I obviously haven’t known you for long. I can only speak to the Lidah Faine that I know now, not the Darth Novus that came before.” Force it felt strange to say that. Was he really talking to Darth Novus? One of the Republic’s most feared and hated enemies?

Sitting here, sharing a bottle of wine with her. After agreeing to a contract to work for her. After fighting alongside her.

Life is strange, sometimes, he thought, smiling to himself as he drank again from his glass.

He perked up at her question, smiling earnestly. “I am,” he said. A frown briefly crossed his face before he hastily added, “Happy, I mean. I wouldn’t brag about myself. Truly, I feel like I still hardly know anything most days.

“But I’m happy you took me and my friends in.” He leaned back in his chair, shoulders relaxing with the wine glass resting in his palm just over the arm of the chair. “It’s good to feel a part of something, and I like the others I’ve met who work for you.” His thoughts briefly returned to his earlier discovery of her knowledge of his... infatuation with Thel and he cleared his throat before his cheeks could redden again.

“And it’s good to not be working for those Hutts,” he said. “I know a lot of people would say it’s just hopping criminal enterprises, but I’d prefer almost anything to a Hutt. I just hope that we can meet your expectations.”

He nodded, showing a bit of reverence and took a moment to drink deeply from his glass. When it was nearly empty, he spoke again. “What about you, if I may be so bold? You’ve gone from Empire to underworld. One seat of power to another.” He glanced at the casino floor sprawled out below them, a kingdom in its own right, to emphasize his words. “Do you enjoy it?”

[Neology]

”Good.” She was glad to hear it, really. Even if it put to the torch some of her own preconceptions. Everyone must be miserable until proven otherwise, eh? But now, who had his teacher been? Sowing fear in bright young souls, yet not a Sith … And not a Jedi of any worth, by the sound of it. Though right, perhaps, in some of the broad strokes. The afraid, the abused, and the weak want nothing more than power. That they may not be those things again. It was right there in the code, even if the popular narrative had every Stih imagining him or herself some kind of great feudal lord from birth. My chains are broken. The darkside was still there, still came when called, the forever and always invisible underside of all matter. ”Oh, you’re welcome. And you will, of course. But please don’t imagine that you owe me something or that this is some kind of grand charity.” Lidah sat up a bit straighter, rolling the stem of her wineglass between her fingers. ”The collective talents of your little group are worth every credit. More, maybe, if it were possible for Qiki to negotiate with a civil tongue.” Lidah grinned crookedly at that; she liked the semi-feral slicer particularly for her irreverence. In small doses. ”Funny thing about your previous employers. I figured they would have struck back by now.” It was plain bad tactics to make an enemy like that and leave them not only alive, but pissed as hell too. Alas, all that strangeness at the annual auction had accelerated her plans. They both drank. Lidah snorted into her glass at Io’an’s next question, quickly excusing herself with a cough and setting the vessel aside. ”I, uhm … Well.” She glanced at the floor below too, lips moving wordlessly once or twice until she found her answer. ”I’m sure my former peers would see it as a downgrade, but I don’t regret it. I’ve had enough malicious flattery and black silk to last a lifetime.” Standing, Lidah navigated around the low table until she stood at the railing. She rested her hands upon it, tapping green painted nails against the cold brass. ”Yes, I do enjoy it. It’s good work if you can get it, right? Now I'm freer than the Empress -- and I’m sure that I have more fun than the Master of the Order.”