The Breaking of The Wire

[Fromikeable]

The entire world could be summed up in three basic ideas.

Awful ringing.

Blurs of color.

The smell of smoke.

They were about all Vance could make out by this point.

A minute ago, the entire floor had collapsed as an explosion had rocked the room, blowing out supports and no doubt causing tremors as the entire Tarisian tower rumbled under the pressures of its shifting structure.

Two minutes ago, the wire he'd been replacing came into contact with the power supply of the ventilation system he'd been working on. What had been a very routine, very boring fix on a very routine, very boring system had suddenly become a highlighted moment in time during which he'd felt the entire planet shake (as far as he was concerned).

An hour ago, he'd arrived at the building as an agent of the Jedi Order, not quite a Knight, but being made useful due to the growing war effort by helping the tower's owners with its maintenance. It was, after all, a company that was vital for food stocks and logistics to the Republic forces in the area, and when they'd stated that they'd been having trouble keeping their maintenance staff full, the Order had been happy to spare Vance, who hadn't been doing much anyway. Perhaps he was but a padawan, but he was experienced, the outpost wasn't far off, and while the Order wasn't involved in the war, keeping the Republic going in small ways was certainly in their interest.

And about 10 seconds ago, he'd gasped back to consciousness to find himself battered, in pain, and immobile. To say that he didn't know where he was would be an understatement, given that the internal infrastructure was more or less gone. He'd been in the less maintained, less well-lit lower levels to begin with, and judging by the blown-out floors above him and the sheer amount of rubble beneath him, it was hard to say how much further down he'd gone.

Oh, and he couldn't quite move his leg. Or find his saber. Or his toolbox. The only thing he could spot as he managed to sit up was the hydrospanner he'd been using, which lay in three pieces a couple meters away.

... so really, it was all he could to cry out in a mixture of frustration, pain, panic, and outright misery as his hands carefully felt his leg, trying to determine what was wrong. He needed his saber. He needed information. He needed competence.

More than anything, he needed help.

[Neology]

The crags and valleys of the Tarisian undercity spread out before her, a mix of dappled sunlight and deepest shadow. Home to the desperately poor, monsters, and some millions long dead … The wreckage of three hundred years ago sprung up out of the muck and moss like old bones, alongside other towers that were still in use. A strange contrast, but then, the Tarisians had always lived that way. Plugging their ears, shutting their eyes, and building ever higher.

Only the Blades cared who landed down here. That suited Novus. It'd been easy enough to copy down the transponder code for Levin's shuttle, and two days ago, to pay someone to change her ship's to match. A trick that would probably only work once, of course, but there was no substitute for firsthand knowledge. Later, filled with soldiers and monsters, this labyrinth would be a nightmare. Better it be one she knew, though her time was more limited than she would have liked. Someone would come looking for the Jedi healer sooner or later.

The ground shook, and her hands reached out to brace herself. One of the vast towers in the distance trembled, sending reverberations through the earth. A cloud of dust rose, though the exterior looked to remain mostly intact from where Novus perched. An earthquake? She discarded that idea out of hand; this seemed much too isolated. Well, the easiest way to find out what happened would be to go there herself. The Sith hopped down, padding through the mud in her heaviest boots.

–

The rakghouls were restless. Novus could feel them, a psychic sensation like cold, sticky oil and a terrible, bottomless hunger. Monsters just slightly too human to truly be susceptible to certain of her powers. Yet they were not all she sensed: there was another Force adept nearby. A Jedi, most likely. She could feel his pain and, soon enough, hear him screaming.

The Arkanian scrabbled up a final pile of debris, ducked into a partially blocked doorway, and there he was, at the bottom of a slight decline. She stood a moment, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Slowly, the fumbling shape resolved itself as a young man, his leg trapped under a sizable chunk of ferrocrete. Personal possessions lay scattered about: tools, a lightsaber. She scooped up the hilt and clipped it to her belt to free her hands.

“Hey. Hey, quiet if you can. Don't need to encourage the rakghouls.” She slid down beside him, examining the wreckage that had his leg pinned. Heavy, but not load-bearing. “Let me help.”

Novus crouched, sliding her arms under the teenager's. “I'll need your help moving this. On three, okay?” Telekinesis was, unfortunately, not her strong suit

“One. Two. Three!” She pushed, taking slow steps back to drag the young man free.

[Fromikeable]

Vance was no slouch physically, and beyond that he was no small man, so when both arms pushing at a decent angle against the huge slab of ferrocrete atop his limb did nothing but make him yelp as a bolt of pain shot up his leg, he knew it was going no place. That certainly didn't help ward off the feelings welling up inside him, the gnawing worries. What if no one found him down here? What if he'd done something to the building and it fell down atop him? What if-

A growl, far off and distant, made him silent, his mind equally muted.

... oh Force, what if the rakghouls rip me limb from limb? The thought sparked a renewed, frantic effort to push the slab off again, and when it merely resulted in another loud yelp of pain, he laid back trying not to hyperventilate in anxiety. He was so stressed, he didn't even notice the woman sliding down the debris toward him. That gave him a good surprise, and his body jumped so hard that he pulled his leg again, yelping once more in pain.

It was only then that he registered that she was a woman. A living, sentient woman.

... oh Fffffffffforce, I died and angels are really Arkanians. He would've pegged Twi'leks to be angels, frankly. Not Zeltrons though. They were definitely devils.

It took him another second to register that she was speaking. Taking a few deep breaths in a desperate bid to calm down, it then also registered that she was trying to be helpful. Oh thank the Force and the gods and the pop stars that she was being helpful.

"Tha- uh... um, thanks." His wavering, absent-minded tone let slip how fresh his shock was. His instincts were gone, frazzled by his mind's total displacement. He hadn't sensed her coming. He didn't remember to sense her as she was here. He didn't do a thing when she put her arms under his. In fact, that took a moment to register too, and it was only at "three" that he managed to focus just enough to try and levitate the slab just enough for his leg to slip out, sliding backwards with the woman and biting his tongue to stifle another groan of pain from his leg.

... oh. I'm free. He took another few seconds for that to register, than another few still of blinking as he managed to form a coherent thought. Even in shock, the endless stream of questions he produced didn't falter.

"Have you, uh... se-seen my saber?" A muddled second thought suggested that she might not be a Jedi, and that she might not know what a saber was. "Shiny tube th- uh, thing... kind of looks like, uh... like a water bottle." No one said shocked similes were much good.

[Neology]

It was a near thing, but the chunk of stone settled back down only after the Jedi's leg was free. Novus exhaled a short laugh as he asked after his lightsaber, though her humor faded as she surveyed the damage. An open fracture just below the left knee, bleeding freely now that the pressure was gone. She found his wrist, searching for a pulse. His skin was worryingly cold.

“Yeah, I've got it. Don't worry.” Letting go, she set about unfastening her belt, saber hilts and gadgets swapped hastily into various pockets. She kept talking, a little uncertain how much the boy was following. “We can't stay here, alright?” Gingerly, Novus wrapped the belt around her patient's thigh, above the knee, and tightened it until the worst of the bleeding seemed to stop.

“I'm going to have to carry you.” She muttered, a doubtful curve to her brows. For all his apparent youth, the Jedi looked to have both height and weight on her. She drew on the Force to make up the difference, strengthening her limbs for the task ahead. Once again she nudged under the Jedi's arm, this time to help him to stand on his good leg.

“Alright uhm … Hold on to my shoulders, I'll get your legs. Kind of like a backpack, right?” Thus arranged, Novus wobbled for moment, finding her balance, then began to retrace her steps. The doorway and the steep decline after it were a trial, forcing her to progress one slow step at a time, least they both go tumbling over.

“What were you doing out here?” She asked, more for the sake of ascertaining whether he was still conscious than curiosity, although that too was on her mind. Young Jedi weren't usually far from their masters, after all, and any such encounter was bound to result in a dozen awkward questions, at the very least. Getting caught here and now could endanger the entire Imperial war effort.

When the shapes that resolved out of a open sewer grating proved themselves a pack of hungry rakghouls and not a worried Jedi master, it was almost a kind of relief. Novus stopped, gently lowering her self-appointed charge onto his good leg. After a moment's slight hesitation, she pressed his saber hilt into his hands before drawing her both her own.

“Stay down. Try not to get bit.”

Her ruby sabers hissed to life, held out at a low guard, ready for the beasts to make their first wild test of them.

[Fromikeable]

Suddenly Vance couldn't help but throw his head back, his teeth gritting in some odd combination of a grimace and a grin as his leg was freed of the oppressive slab. On the one hand, it was a massive relief to his shocked mind; his leg no longer felt like it was being crushed, he managed to register that he was no longer trapped (well, directly anyway), and beyond both of those, it was beginning to sink in that this woman was here to help.

On the other hand... Force almighty, did his leg hurt.

He couldn't even summon the focus needed to glance down at it, sprawling out on the debris and trembling in a desperate attempt not to scream at the top of his lungs. Beyond the pain, the entire limb was freezing cold and absolutely numb; conditions that even his shocked psyche was quick to panic too. The woman began to fuss over the leg and touch it, and frankly he was far too focused on subduing his need to be vocal to notice.

But as she worked, it at least came to be bearable. Not well, by any stretch of the word, but bearable. His teeth relaxed. The trembling became a light shiver mainly due to blood-loss. He managed to open his and shakily exhale. The woman seemed to say something... they couldn't stay here? Why?

Oh... uh, building... explosion, low levels... rakghouls... riiiiiiiiiight. Nodding weakly in response, Vance's unfocused blue eyes slowly followed her as she managed to maneuver him on to her back, the effort registering just enough for him to summon what little strength remained in his three unharmed limbs to help her. Pretty soon they were on their way, him slouched over her shoulders, his head limply dangling just above her chest, his good leg wrapped around her waist in an effort to keep from sliding down. Had he been more conscious...

... well, it could have been said that she would have had five limbs to worry about. Alas.

What had he been doing down here? "Uhhhhhhhm... I, uh..." He squinted for a minute, staring at the ground moving below them as he tried to piece together his memories and subsequently his sentence.

"... I think I... something with a w- uh... wire." He nodded weakly a little, that sounding right as he confirmed the event. "Yeah. It, uhhhhhhhhh... exploded." Well, one and a half out of two wasn't bad.

His muddled concentration wasn't broken by the hisses, but rather by his ride stopping and standing him on his good leg. Wobbling as he took his saber, he dazedly scanned the darkness about, trying to make out the movements that were happening around them. His hand squeezed on his saber's platinum hilt, fumbling for a second to find the power button but having just enough sense not to press it (he'd hurt himself far more than the creatures would). Honestly, he simply tried not to fall over, gingerly testing his broken leg and hissing a few times as it proved totally unreliable.

That's when the ruby sabers popped to life. Staring at them for a second as a small pack of rakghouls lunged at the light, he was basically reduced to a thought.

Huh... I like green better.

[Neology]

The first of the creature's made a leap for her and Darth Novus matched the motion, sabers rising. One blade severed the rakghoul's arm as it reached for her; the appendage fell nerveless into the muck. The other burned out half the beast's throat on the back swing, leaving it to sputter and shortly expire. Novus, side face, took a single step back, unwilling to leave the Jedi undefended.

Three circled at the edge of her reach, snarling. One crouched over their fallen brother, clawed hands and toothy snout burying themselves in the unexpected bounty. Dimly, she noted that a lightsaber's caress did nothing to improve the stench of the beast's diseased flesh. Almost casually, she drove one of her sabers through that one's skull, punishing it for the meal.

The others chose this moment to strike, one lunging for the injured Jedi while the other two flanked the Sith Lord. She raised one saber to guard her left, but the other came free of the rakghoul's skull too slowly. Novus let it go as the monster on the right, pale as a fish's belly, knocked her to the ground.

Impact seemed to drive the breath from her lungs, though she still found the air to scream when savage claws raked her side, deflecting off her ribs. Blood soaked through her shredded jacket immediately, mingling with the Tarisian mud. She forced her left arm up, bracing it with her right, guarding her face and core as best she could with her remaining saber. One of the beasts swiped, losing several clawed fingers to the red blade. Teeth sank into her shoulder.

Taris had seen pain, and violence, and death, in a capacity unmatched save for the galaxy's very worst battlefields. The Darkside waited here, patient for her call, for indeed, even these monsters were instruments of it's will. And she, a most stubborn child …

If there were Jedi about, they would notice …

It did not matter. None of it mattered if she died here. Novus let that power in, lightning arcing from her fingertips. Her free hand whipped out, struggling for a grip on one of the beasts, it's flesh cooking beneath that assault. She shoved the other, buying herself space to regain her feet and her lost weapon. She threw the offhand blade, it's arc neatly separating the dazed rakghoul's head from it's shoulders. The ivory hilt returned, caught in her outstretched hand.

The padawan.

Novus whirled to face the last of the pack, wincing as the motion sent burning lances of pain through her bloodied side. The kid was still moving – a good sign. The rakghoul trying to chew his face off was somewhat less so. She lunged, blade angled down to take the beast between its shoulder blades, taking care not to spear the Jedi trapped beneath it.

Her sabers flicked off, and, breathing heavily, the Sith kneeled down to push the dead rakghoul off the young man.

“Hey. You still with me?”

[Fromikeable]

For a split few seconds, Vance couldn't help but wonder at the sight of the woman's crimson blades slicing through flesh as if rakghouls were made of paper. He subconsciously squeezed his own. It was so easy to forget how terrible these weapons were; that which could kill with a literal flick of the wrist.

Unfortunately, he seemed to be able to forget his surroundings just as easily, for the next thing he knew, the world was sideways, his leg ablaze with fresh pain, and sharp claws were digging into his back and stomach. Yelping in equal parts surprise and agony, Vance managed to roll onto his back, the claws digging into his chest a bit as his eyes managed to focus enough to see what ailed him now. Unfortunately, it was something supremely ugly, barring fangs bigger than his eyes, and using said mandibles in every attempt to end his life.

That last part didn't really hit him as those fangs sank into his forearm, causing another groaning yelp of desperate pain.

His saber sparked to life in his right hand as the beast gnawed on his forearm, trying to get its own fangs free. His weak, shivering arm tried its best to angle the saber at the creature, but before any connection could be made, the beast was literally hammering on his shoulders in frustration. Huffing for air, his saber fell to the mud, the shimmering platinum coating in grime as he simply tried to push, actually keeping the fangs hooked to his forearm.

The only alternative was letting it bite him again.

But despite his efforts, the rakghoul freed its mouth and snarled, boxing his head with its claws as it reared its jaw and prepared to take a good bite out of an area of its choosing. Closing his eyes and letting out a final panicked, desperate gasp for air, the padawan tried to focus on something, anything, so that his last thought could be something worth thinking about.

... I really should've labeled those wires. He tensed, waiting.

But... no fangs came. In fact, the beast made a gurgling sound even raspier than Vance's own breathing. It's claws, clinging to the sides of his skull, stopped squeezing, and the most sensation it caused was a drip of what he hoped was just spit from its gaping, gasping maw.

Oh, and something very hot was hovering just above his stomach. When that something receded and the weight of the beast suddenly rolled off to his side, he couldn't help but whimper, his bitten arm covering his eyes as his lungs filled and emptied a little slower than the speed of sound, his entire body trembling.

He was still waiting for death. There simply wasn't a way it had gotten that close and stopped, right?

But... suddenly a voice. Not a rakghoul screech, not the rumble of an explosion... just a plain old sentient voice.

"... I... I don't th-think s-s-so..." He was an overgrown Jedi padawan with a leg broken in at least two places, traumatic physical shock, traumatic mental shock, a forearm covered in deep puncture wounds, general claw marks across the sides of his head, torso, and thighs, and a virus slowly spreading through his already semi-bled-out, battered, exhausted, semi-conscious body.

He sure didn't feel like he was alive.

The only thing he could think to do was drop his right hand to the mud, his fingers weakly wrapping around his saber. As far as he was concerned, the gentle warmth of the hilt was probably the last thing he'd ever feel.

[Neology]

Poor kid. Novus sighed, fighting back that unbidden tug of sympathy. If he lived, the Jedi would likely never thank her for all this. After all, she couldn't exactly return him to his fellows. At least not until her other plans run their course. Swearing faintly, she stuffed her saber hilts unceremoniously back into her pockets.

“My ship's not far.” She muttered, unsure if he was still conscious. After a moment's consideration, she hoped he wasn't. Again, pulling on the Force for focus and strength, Novus picked the young man up, this time in a simple fireman's carry. His weight was terrible on her shoulder, the pain there settling into an angry throb and occasionally sending numb shocks down the length of her arm.

Mercifully, the NZT-331 came into view over the next rise, sleek and predatory in it's lines, a deeper black than shadowed earth surrounding it. The loading ramp deployed as Novus closed the last few yards, a line of florescent lights that seemed the warmest of all possible welcomes. She tromped up the ramp, letting it close automatically behind them.

Novus set the padawan down on the medbay's central table, swearing under her breath and trying not to jar his leg overmuch. What was first? She wished she'd paid more attention to her youngling training in the Halls of Healing. Or to Levin, even.

Well, the rakghoul serum seemed a good place to start. The Sith shrugged out of her ruined jacket, frowning at a glimpse of her reflection before turning back to the supply cabinet. She'd prepared for the trip; six capped syringes of the serum waited for her use, neatly tucked away in the rightmost drawer. Novus drew two of them out, dosing herself first and then the Jedi. Next, she dialed on the ship's single kolto tank, causing the acrylic screen to lower and a breath mask to descend on its umbilical of tubing.

“Right, uhm … I don't think you're supposed to go into these things with dirty clothes. Sorry.” Fishing in her pockets, the Sith produced a small, sharp knife. With it, she neatly cut away the Jedi's ruined clothing. (Definately not what she'd expected to do with her evening.) Slowly, she heaved him into the tank, fastening on the mask and setting the screen to close.

Another glimpse at her own bloody reflection and the Sith set about gathering supplies by the wide steel sink to clean and bind her own wounds.

–

The evening slipped by. After tending to herself and setting out clothes for the kid (some discarded robes of Ryn's – they looked about the same size), Novus set and locked their course for Rhen Var. The old temple there was as much a home as she had and it would take a long time to get there. Good.

She curled up in the pilot's station chair, plastic cup of tea cupped between her slender fingers and a fresh robe wrapped around her narrow shoulders. She remembered to drink a sip occasionally, her mind wandering.

What in the galaxy was she going to do with a Jedi padawan?

Eventually, Novus dozed.

[Fromikeable]

30 hours later...

-

Steely blue eyes slowly began to flicker beneath their thin flesh blinds, the first bit of information they relayed to Vance being that they suddenly felt much better. The last time they told him anything, they were bloodshot and agitated with stress, dust, anxiety, strain, and a multitude of other things. They'd itched, burned, hurt, and watered all at once, and now they felt oddly soothed...

His arm too... well, no. It still hurt, stinging in every puncture. His leg too; better, but still tender even just to touch the bottom of the...

... when did he get in a tank? Vance's eyes lazily rolled around about, examining things in a sedate manner thanks to his mind slowly beginning to sort itself out. Come to think of it... what did he remember last? Something about... his saber. He squeezed his right hand slightly, noting how it felt like it was submerged. No saber. What else could he remember...

... rakghoul... woman... leg... debris... explosion... After another minute he groaned exhaustedly, the memories slowly being stitched together, culminating in a single thought.

That frakking wire. One bit of misplaced metal had earned him and this woman a fit of pain unseen by most people.

With his memories slowly starting to come together, his brow furrowed as his head moved a little, noting the mask on his face and feeling of being submerged being seconded by his head. Was he underwater? He traced the outline of the tank again, noting a few buttons on the exterior. Waving his hand a little, he noted how viscous it was. No... this wasn't water. It was too soothing and too thick. Was it... kolto? That'd explain the tank.

And the room. Where was the tank then? He noted a small bed that looked like it belonged in a hospital, with bloody clothing scattered about, some pieces clearly cut beyond their original shape, others simply removed conventionally. His hand tapped his thigh, and his chest, and his waist, and...

... and I'm naked. As he grew a little more conscious, a slight blushed graced his cheeks.

It was then that his eyes managed to dart toward the doorway long enough to see someone with white hair walk by. Squinting for only a few seconds this time, Vance finally decided that it was time to try and move. Who was she again? Regardless, he remembered her being very helpful. Hell, she'd probably saved his life by putting him in this tank. He also wasn't a rakghoul despite the bite (which he'd read enough about to know generally was a death-sentence or worse.

Then he remembered the sabers, and his efforts to move took serious pause for a few minutes.

... and she's a Sith.

...

... oh frak it. If she was going to kill me, she would've by now. He'd take his chances of at least getting free of the tank, for now. The fact was going to take some time to register anyway, especially considering her valiant behavior in saving his sorry hide.

Placing his hands against the back of the tank, Vance slowly pushed off of it, standing himself upright. His broken leg was still far too hurt to walk on properly, but the kolto, if it had done it's job, should have at least helped accelerate his metabolism to the point at which the bones should no longer have been totally broken. Presuming this and deciding to trust it just so, the padawan knocked on the glass gently a few times. The tank software, registering movement from the occupant and launching a failsafe, began to drain slowly. Eventually he was standing, dripping with kolto, bare naked, fumbling to get the oxygen mask off as the glass slid away, exposing him to a blast of chilly air.

Stepping out of the tank slowly, testing his legs (especially since he'd been floating for a good day and then some). When he was confident enough that his joints wouldn't buckle, he limped slowly over to the table, examining the ropes. Dark and over-sized... and with a hint of some scent he'd rather not know the origin of. Not seeing much of an alternative, he sat on the bed, no doubt causing a creaky ruckus as he began to dress himself.

[Neology]

Novus padded barefoot down the hall, toward the mess. Soft gray ship knits clung to her shoulders and hips, swishing about her ankles. Damp hair hung down her back, matched by the towel hanging limply over one shoulder. Residual soreness still lingered in her shoulder and side as she moved, but the kolto had done it's job. There probably wouldn't even be scarring.

As she browsed through a standard selection of redimeals, the Sith had a realization. Her passenger was awake. Well, no screaming yet. That was a promising sign of intelligence. Selecting a pair of breakfast shakes from the refrigerator, Novus backtracked to the medbay. Taking some small care for the Jedi's modesty, she waited for the sound of rustling cloth to abate before rounding the last corner.

“Good morning. Or night, I suppose.” She waited in the doorway, thinking it wise to let the Jedi have his space. Still, a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth and she nodded her head, gratified to see that Ryn's castoffs had fit. If anything, they were a little bit too big for the padawan – she wouldn't have believed that before, carrying him around. She held up one of the shakes, showing it, then tossed it to him.

“Well. I'm sure you have questions.” Novus twisted the cap off her bottle and sipped, nose scrunching up a little at the taste. Chocolate, vaguely chalkly.

“Introductions seem a fair place to start, don't you think?” A question that proved to be entirely rhetorical, as she continued on without waiting for an answer. “My name is Novus. I used to be a Jedi. I don't want to hurt you, but I will defend myself and this ship.”

[Fromikeable]

The robes were slow going, given the stiffness of Vance's exhausted, still-healing limbs, but by the time a familiar voice made him jump where he sat, he was pulling on the top part, completely covering himself except for his feet.

Now if only his heart hadn't shot up to his throat.

His head snapped to the side to look at her with steely blue eyes; the kind that emanated a calmness covering a working mind. At the moment, that mind was working to subdue any panic and immediate defensive reactions his training may have taught him. After all, a Sith was standing in the door way not any further than a meter from him, holding two cups with a smirk, confusing night and day.

He'd never so much as seen a Sith in person, let alone been in the same room as one. Hell, he'd never even been naked in front of another Jedi, save for the doctors at the Temple.

Breaaaaaaaaaaaaathe. She tossed a cup to him, and knowing as she did it that his limbs were in no shape to snap out to grab it, a hand came up instead, catching the beverage a foot from the bed in mid-air with the Force. A little more confident in his ability to think now that he had proof that he could focus a bit again, he levitated the cup to his hand and inspected it before twisting off the top.

... looks even worse than Temple food. Oh, right. Sith in the room.

"Thanks." His voice, while a bit subdued in thought, seemed healthy and without the rasp that had plagued it before. Sipping the cup, he dared to taste its contents. Swallowing it with no fanfare, he paused. "... better than Temple food, at least." He cracked a tiny smile, trying more to relieve his own stress than crack jokes as his mind still debated how to approach the scenario.

Finally, he picked a tentative course and began down it, his ears perked sharply for any changes he would need to make.

"Well, um, Novus... I'm Vance." He sipped the drink again, noting how his appetite was beginning to surge back. "I'm a Jedi... er," he sighed, biting his lip and deciding to just be honest, "Well, a padawan. And I suppose, before I say anything else..."

He looked her dead on. "Thank you for not leaving me to die in rubble. And for saving me from a pack of rakghouls. I'm sorry that you were bit, I hope it wasn't too awkward to see me naked, and-" He blushed a little, realizing that he was rambling off all of his thoughts at once. He ended with what he considered the most important one.

"... I know that you're a Sith." His face was a bit cherry by that point with embarrassment, and his fingers drummed on the cup a bit, half nervous of what reaction he might evoke, half relieved to have said his thoughts aloud, and half curious as to what it all would spell out to.

And so, a single question came before all the rest. "So... what gives?" It was direct, perhaps a little accusatory, and certainly not very graceful, but more than anything, Vance needed some assurance that he wasn't just the most recent guinea pig picked from the lower levels for use in some twisted event. He knew just about jack-squat about Sith, and for all he knew, he was about to wind up as anything from a slave to a gladiator to a pet to a scholar.

[Neology]

Novus leaned against the door frame, one brow quirked at his joke. He didn't seem to think that she'd poison him – a surprisingly logical reaction, resources spent saving his life balanced against the shock of a strange place and strange company. Having learned to nurture her paranoid streak around her fellows, the Sith wasn't sure she'd have done the same.

“I thought so.” She tilted her head, regarding the teen from beneath the veil of her lashes. Hesitation, and then the truth. A bad habit, but then she'd met very few Jedi who could tell a good lie.

Ah. Eye contact at last. At the word naked she giggled, muffling the sound with curled fingers.

“You're very welcome, Vance. I am sorry about your clothes, but I promise, if was for practicality's sake only. Or, if it helps, you're not the first Jedi I've seen naked.”

She nodded her head as he went on – if she was surprised at what he'd remembered, it did not show. Instead, she remained still in the doorway. Not the best way to put someone at ease, she knew; this posture, blocking the exit, was reminiscent of a predator cornering its prey. But some things had to be laid out, now, while the kid was feeling honest and at least a little bit safe.

“Yes. I am. That's why I'm afraid that I've truly done you no favors. I can't take you back to the Jedi, and I can't let you go.” Her empty hand raised to ruffle the silver-white tangle of her hair. “My being on Taris needs to stay a secret until, well. A future date that I cannot discuss.”

“We are on our way to Rhen Var. You will have … Options, I think.”

“As to why I saved you ...” She shrugged. “I don't know if it was a good idea or not, yet. Some of my peers believe I harbor undue sympathy toward my former Order. Personally, I find death to be a gross waste of a Jedi's potential.”

[Fromikeable]

Even after bringing down a building on himself, nearly having a limb removed by a rakghoul, and sitting in a kolto tank for a day and a half, Vance couldn't help but raise his brow as his imagination picked out one phrase in particular.

Not the first Jedi she's seen naked... uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... His worries about dastardly experiments were loaned a little weight, as well as mingled with thoughts of a, well... very hormonal nature; those which made him blush a bit more. Jedi were sentient too, he supposed. And Sith, for that matter. With that said, he tried not to imagine her naked, lest his mind wander further.

Far more worrying was her admission and subsequent rules. She couldn't return him to the Order (he wasn't even going to think about how much trouble he'd be in for all of this anyway), and they were going to Rhen Var; Sith space. Furthermore, he had... "options".

Servitude, dismemberment, or a dungeon? He gulped a little, quietly returning his eyes to his cup as he digested what she'd said. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't much going for him by this point, save for the fact that Novus certainly didn't seem like she wanted to kill him (though the "waste" comment seemed to imply that she hadn't exactly done it from the goodness of her heart). With that said, the more he thought on it, the more suspicious he became. What exactly was she going to do with him then?

"... I see." He nodded a little at the cup, sipping it again, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the outer contours. "I suppose that's understandable." He might've been a twit, but he could, at least, sympathize with having no choice.

A few things began to occur to him, as he began to relay. "Why Rhen Var? I thought the Sith Temple was on Korriban..." He blushed a little, coughing and looking at her again. "... uh... provided that we are going back to the Sith Order." He tried to hide the small look of distaste he made on instinct. It felt odd to call the Sith an Order.

"And when you say 'options', do you mean my choice of imprisonment, or..." Imprisonment was one of his more optimistic predictions, and it showed when he flashed a tiny, half wary, half curious smile.

[Neology]

Novus's regard sharpened as the kid quieted up – that was never a good sign. After all, he'd proven to have an inquisitive mind thus far, and all of that energy turned inwards could be a dangerous thing. Worse yet would be the moment such a mind stopped thinking.

Besides, the increasing blush on his cheeks went some distance toward explaining the young man's abstraction. A bit of a wonder, really, considering the amount of blood he'd lost the day before.

Still, he spoke eventually, without any further prodding on her part.

“Well, yes. You're right about Korriban, and I am taking you back to the Order, in a sense.” A shrug. She folded her arms under her breasts, shoulder still braced against the door frame, an affected posture of nonchalance. “I'm not sure, but I don't think it'd be much of an Empire if we all stayed clustered on one planet.”

“Rhen Var is my home away from home. Assuming we both want you to live, it's a better option than Korriban. More space, less traffic. No sand.” She smiled briefly at that, having always preferred cold to heat, snow to sand.

“Ah. I'm still working it out, but yes. I can't let you go, so that does make you my prisoner. If you'd rather not spend all that time in a cell, however …” Novus trailed off invitingly, a sudden thought gleaming wickedly in her eyes.

“When we arrive, I could say that you are my apprentice. That would afford you, well … Run of the temple, almost. Access to the archives and the grounds, though the hanger and communications array would obviously be restricted. You could even continue your training, if you wished.” The fingers of her empty hand tapped along with the pace of her thoughts.

“Finally, when my plans for Taris have run their course, I could see about having an acquaintance of mine return you to the Jedi.” If you still want to go, of course, she thought, but left that unspoken. No need to throw fuel on that particular fire.

“What do you think? I've made worse offers.”

[Fromikeable]

It hadn't occurred to Vance that the Sith had separate enclaves and Temples just as their Jedi counterparts did. In retrospect, it made a good deal of sense, especially considering that most Sith were, at some point or another, Jedi (just look at Novus). But that begged a lot of questions for him... how many Sith were there, exactly? He hadn't thought there to be more than a Temple's worth. And what did they do? Were they involved in the galaxy like Jedi? He was willing to bet they didn't exactly go around righting wrongs and trying to be humanitarians, but...

It was beginning to occur to him just how little he knew. And that was dangerous, given how what he didn't know could bring about his end.

Well... I don't like sand either. He smiled a little in return, appreciating the lighter-hearted comment. Silver linings were mostly what was keeping him calm at the moment. He maintained his silence as she went on, however, focusing on her intently.

By the time she was done, he was frowning. "Your apprentice? Like a..." What were they called in the Sith Order... "... like the Sith version of a padawan?"

The frown certainly communicated how he felt about the idea. Pretending to be a Sith trainee sounded a lot like selling his soul to the devil (or devils, rather). He looked down at his own body, imagining wearing the black robes he'd donned every day for an undisclosed amount of time, mingling or otherwise being surrounded with... he wasn't sure. Killers and madmen and traitors and people who hated the Code and liked to break it. Or, at least, that's as far as his imagination went. In a tiny hum, he reminded himself that his perspective was a good bit skewed and a good bit more uninformed.

That said, there was usually some truth in even the most heinous of lies.

"Well... I have to admit, I sort of hate the idea." He frowned further, noting his choice of words and their correlation. Looking at her, he cleared his throat and quickly added. "I mean... I certainly don't like the idea of trying to... I don't know, mingle with Sith."

But what were his alternatives? She couldn't let him go, he doubted his chances of successfully escaping imprisonment, and he was betting that his chances of death shot up pretty dramatically without someone actively looking out for him. Especially given his track record (he couldn't even repair a giant fan without nearly toppling a building).

So... with a hefty sigh, he silently shook his head and murmured a few choice curses under his breath. "Sithspit..." He blinked, glancing at her apologetically. He'd have to get used to the new nature of his company.

"... I don't I have to change my saber, do I?" He pulled at the robes on his chest. "And do the robes have to be black?"

And finally, as the acceptance began to sink in (disapproving though he may have been) and the stress began to err ever so little, Vance's natural curiosity began to settle back in to its niche, beginning to inspect all of the new concepts he'd been hit with as of late. The first few thoughts resulted in a slight squint as he added, "Wouldn't it be kind of obvious how... Jedi-y I am?"

[Neology]

“Yes. Something like that.” She answered softly, letting the young man go on in lieu of further explanation. Interested or not, as it stood right now, the difference between Jedi and Sith ranks would be about as useful to him as a bucket of sand in the desert. Subtleties such as those could be explored later.

Silent, Novus watched him process, waiting to see what she expected. Fear or anger or confusion, some resentful spark of violence. Still, no outburst came; to the Jedi Order's credit, Vance kept his panic on a leash.

“You can keep your saber and wear whatever you'd like, though I do admit, the selection of men's clothing aboard my ship is somewhat lacking. Ryn's tastes run toward the practical and dreadfully bland.” She pushed away from the door frame and straightened, a little motion of her hand indicating the hallway beyond.

“They will sense you, yes, but you have time. A change like this, were it sincere, would not take place overnight.” She shrugged her shoulders, arms falling to rest at her side as she stepped into the hall, bare feet on dark tile. A smirk tugged at one corner of her mouth as she glanced back at him.

“I could teach you to hide it. If that's something you'd be interested in.” With that said, she led him down the hall, careful to cut down her stride to match his. Thankfully, Ryn's quarters were close to the medbay, left empty while the fallen Jedi attended to his Lady's business elsewhere.

“Well, here we are. Galley is back the way we came and to the left.” Novus keyed open the door and switched on the lights, then turned to face her guest. She nodded absently, flashing a conspiratorial smile.

“This will be interesting, don't you think? A Darth can get away with a whole lot on title alone, but I've never snuck a Jedi into the Order before.” She tapped her chin, then shrugged. “Though I do suppose sneaking would be the wrong word.”

[Fromikeable]

A Sith apprentice...

The thought made him want to cringe again. It was a refutation of literally everything he knew, everything he was led to believe in, and everything he was ever taught.

Beware the Dark side... Abandon the Light.

Search your feelings... Ride your emotions.

There is only peace. There is only chaos.

He shivered instead, trying not to think about what he would be like if he came out of it. If he came out of this at all.

So he focused on what he could. His saber could stay the same. No dress code. By the sound of it, trust was abundant enough at the moment for him not to be locked in the room he would be sleeping in. On a sea of troubles, he was determined to cling to the silver-lined pieces of debris as close as he could.

"... let me think on." His naivety shined through a bit at her offer, his voice communicating his clear lack of knowledge that such a thing was even possible. Not that he particularly enjoyed the idea of learning anything from her (for all he knew, the smallest gleam of information could ruin him), but his curiosity just couldn't stand down. Besides, it was that or being found out day one and going to jail anyway (presuming he wasn't slain on the spot). Following her down the hall, he bit back another sigh as a lesson or two, even if only to cover the basics and let him figure out the rest, started sounding better and better.

She's not a teacher, juuuuuuuuuust... a tutor. Whatever he had to tell himself.

In his wandering thoughts, he almost bumped into her as they stopped. She revealed his room, which he was assuming he was only borrowing thanks to prior comments and the wardrobe full of black robes. That reminded him to find out just who exactly Ryn was sometime later. Preferably when he had fewer thoughts zipping around his brain at the speed of synapse.

And finally, her smile. From what he could tell, it wasn't particularly sinister, but certainly just a bit entertained. He bit back another sigh; he felt lost enough without her making the ordeal look like a casual happenstance that was chuckle-worthy. In the course of 48 hours, he'd blown up a tower, nearly died twice, and become a Sith appr-... a, uh... whatever it was called, and that smile made it look like just another day in the life. He wasn't even a Knight yet, and he already felt overwhelmed beyond compare.

So stepping into the room, he focused on the basics. Primal instinct. He was still a little hungry, but he ached all over still and wanted to rest. He needed to adjust the robes to fit him a little better. He needed less scratchy underwear (he tried to ignore the fact that all of it was second-hand anyway. The cherry on his sundae).

Lastly, he let out a long, deep breath, rubbing his eyes. "Interesting is a massive, massive understatement..." For the first time that day, he conceded and let slip a small, genuine smile. As the thoughts only buzzed more and more, he began to realize just how mentally and physically exhausted he was.

And so with a silent goodbye to Novus and a small moment of staring at his borrowed bed, the padawan, or perhaps, ex-padawan, collapsed face-first into the fabric, quietly whispering to himself as he tried to sink into a restless state of stillness...

The little things... weird-smelling sheets... engine's hum... scratchy underwear.