A Permanent Addition

[Fromikeable]

It was ironic that, of all of the places a mind-altering holocron could show up, the place it would do so would be Mygeeto; a name synonymous with “unofficial slavery” in multiple senses. Putting aside debatable evidence of ancient slavery on a massive scale (mainly based off of a few claims, a few ruins, and a few researchers that many in the academic community had reason to question), the planet’s current state was the absolute picture of capitalism; basically an entire race in financial servitude to the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Cities that these people, these Lurmen had built and molded with their own two hands now played the leisure and corporate retreat to the most official of CEO’s and businessmen.

And then there was all the politics. God, how Rase despised the politics.

Luckily for him, today spelled now such torture. Being in a shuttle rocketing toward the planet’s equator donned in the heaviest parka his vast closet contained, boots with cleats the like of which nightmares are made of, and a face mask and hood that hid everything but his eyes, the only identifying characteristic of the researcher besides his piercing green eyes (which were half concealed behind protective glasses; and ice planet and a star could spell doom for retinas) was his hat. Even then, the brown suede of it was hard to spot, as it was sandwiched between his hair and his hood, the latter was tied tight.

Really, the only other thing that identified him was his voice, rich and warm in stark contrast to the relentless cold outside of the shuttle.

“Something to warm you, Ms. Tikaris?” A gloved hand undid a few zippers and a button before producing a small flask from one of his coat’s pockets. Peeling down his face mask a bit to reveal crimson lips curved into a grin, he undid the flask’s top and offered it to his companion.

“An old Lurmen concoction. Surely not a fine scotch, but rather like drinking magma.” The recipe was one of the cultural wonders of Mygeeto’s native species not lost to time or enslavement, and was infamous among the servant race for being a bit difficult to swallow, but more than potent at fighting off the cold.

[Neology]

Novus glanced up from the winter survival guide propped open in her lap to peer out the shuttle viewport. She could make out only a little through the driving wind. The shadow of mountains and jagged rises of crystal gave the horizon it's blurry edge. Their destination would be almost invisible from this angle, knowledge that didn't stop her from looking. The pictures stuck between the pages of her book showed a deep crevasse, a blue-shaded wound in the earth spined with ancient architecture.

She couldn't decide if it was luck or not, that their mysterious opponent could be tracked back to this corner of the Empire. Certainly, she had access to resources here that would have been harder to obtain in Republic space: satellite imaging, armored shuttle, cold weather gear in her size … Resources she was very glad to have, for Mygeeto was not a hospitable planet. Still, it invited some unwelcome concerns. Did their enemy have some form of Sith backing as well?

… She was beginning to doubt that. Her Sith compatriots enjoyed their creature comforts and were generally disinterested in scholarly pursuits. It was hard to imagine any of them outpacing her to such a degree, crouching in these heretofore unknown ruins with a band of mercenaries.

”Something to warm you, Ms. Tikaris?”

“You don't have to call me that, you know.” She glanced up, accepting the flask with a dubious sniff at the open neck. She took a generous sip and raised her hand immediately to shield her mouth, coughing. Novus flipped her book closed and leaned forward.

“Oh, wow.” Another cough and she shook her head, hissing through her teeth as she offered the flask back. “Tastes uh … Meaty. Don't tell me what's in it. I don't think I want to know.”

The shuttle shook and performed a wrenching turn. Her headset chirped. Enemy fire. She reached into her hood, fumbling with the mic cord.

“Alright. Put us down out of sight. We'll take the speederbike.” Novus stood, cinching her hood tight and snapping her helmet's faceplate into place. She shouldered her rifle, a scoped slugthrower in the same dappled white and blue as the rest of her gear.

“Feel like driving, Dr. Hyul?”

[Fromikeable]

An amused chuckle would permeate the shuttle as it began to shake and their headsets began to blare with warnings. Small clouds of black smoke popped in front of them in the galing snow, seeming almost peaceful were it not for the fact that they sought their immediate demise. In retrospect, Rase was glad to have his companion for today be someone with access to high-grade military equipment; there was no telling how well these mercs were armed if they had flak that could shoot through blizzards.

“I’ll only tell you this; there isn’t much meat to hunt during this time of year in this hemisphere.” Chuckling a little more, the doctor began guiding the shuttle down toward the ground, relying more on his instruments as visibility was about as good as nill. His joke seemed contrary to the fact that they’d already been shot at; it hadn’t seemed to bother him much, and in truth, it hadn’t. They were no worse for wear, they had a better idea of their enemy, and better yet, their presence was just known enough for them to start playing mindgames.

In short, they’d gotten lucky. Rase surely wouldn’t let that sort of fortune go unharnessed.

The shuttle landed with a gentle thud, and the doctor stood and restored his flask, face mask, and hood. He hadn’t quite opted for such a heavy loadout as his partner; he wore body armor beneath his jacket, his revolvers sat at the ready on an external belt with his whip and a few pouches, and a small, collapsible carbine was stowed in one of the outer pockets of his bag, looking more akin to a survival weapon than one would use to blast through mercenaries.

He looked like just another fool researcher braving out into the snow for a shot at glory. Perfect.

Getting up from his chair and shouldering his small pack, the Zeltron walked to the back of the shuttle and hit two buttons, one lowering the ramp for the cargo hold and one sliding the speeder out of storage. Giving the sort of quick once over of someone who had clearly been left stranded by a broken speeder before, he nodded, satisfied, before climbing on and sparking life into the machine. He patted the rear seat, his mask hiding his maintained grin.

“Only if you feel like riding, Ms. Tikaris.” With his small innuendo out of the way, as soon as she was on, they were zipping out of the shuttle and into the blinding snow beyond.

At first there was nothing. A complete whiteout. Visibility couldn’t have been more than a meter. But after two minutes, two meters. And after three, four meters. And after four, eight meters. As the speeder rocketed beneath them, the storm almost seemed to shirk away, slowly becoming less and less intense.

And then suddenly, it was gone, and the sight was spectacular.

Before them loomed a very giant crystal very easily the size of a mountain; a monument of nature that seemed taller than the sky itself, reaching ever upward. And indeed, the tip seemed to touch the sky; the storm flowed around it in great swaths of seemingly solid snow, the winds unhappily parting only after slamming into the obelisk in their way. The sound was bone-chilling; a howl that seemed almost godly, soft from so far away, but deep and piercing just the same. The walls of snow curved in an oblong shape, eventually meeting again and greeting one another gracefully, as if mocking the dastardly rock who had dared to part them. The ground was, astoundingly, snowless, with its colors a mix of cold greys and the same deep teals.

Stopping the speeder, Rase smiled wide. Pulling down his mask for a second, he took a deep breath, letting his companion soak in both the sight and the sound for a moment before giving her something to call it.

“Behold Car Gage; the City of Lost of Souls.” As if on cue, the air ushered a particularly loud howl, the ruin seeming to greet them in the tongue of things long gone. Smiling a little wider, the Zeltron reached into one of the speeder’s saddle bags and began to scan the abandoned city of adobe-like rock structures, most square, laying close to the mountain.

“Mind the temperature, the desert conditions, and the exploding crystals.”

[Neology]

She climbed onto the back of the speeder bike, settling in behind him, resting her hands on his waist. Though three layers of clothing and a pair of very thick gloves rendered the gesture anything but intimate, she had to admit that she was a little surprised when it failed to elicit another suggestive joke. Focused on the task at hand, hmm? Perhaps. His experience with the holocron had been troubling and well, most of her enemies came with armies entailed. No need to hire mercenaries.

Who stole from archaeologists? Other treasure hunters, she supposed. Still, she couldn't guess Rase's thoughts – and had refrained from peeking since their initial encounter. It seemed a rude thing to do to someone who couldn't lock her out. ... And why did that seem to matter? It certainly hadn't before.

The shuttle's gray bulk vanished behind them within moments. It would be difficult to find again in the storm – more so once the engines cooled, hiding it from thermal scans. Novus frowned slightly, pushing the thought out of mind. If nothing else, the mercenaries would have transportation of their own. Easy enough to repurpose one of theirs and send someone back for the shuttle later.

Minutes slipped by with little discernible progress, just the storm and endless snow. Or was the wind weaker now? Novus was glad for her helmet and the unwieldy layers of her borrowed kit, graceless as she felt in the bulky getup. Fighting in it would be interesting, though not in any way that she looked forward to. Perhaps they should have borrowed some soldiers with the gear? An unwelcome thought, that this place might prove more dangerous than Yavin IV.

And then they were stopping, and so was the storm. The crystal edifice before them was beautiful, yet she sensed something dark at it's heart. She exhaled slowly, focusing on her senses, but it's shape eluded her.

“We say this planet is ours, but I bet hardly anyone even knows this is here. What was it for?” She asked, glancing around curiously. “Wait, what do you mean 'exploding crystals?'”

[Fromikeable]

Fortunately for Novus, her guess was correct; behind his usual mental workings, Rase was just the least bit abnormally focused. No one in their right mind would approach a clearly law-breaking treasure-seeker in the middle of a frigid ice world without a healthy dose of caution, but this time was rather different. This object, this holocron… it wasn’t just normal treasure. It wasn’t just something that could be sold for a high price, or something that could be touted in a private collection. It wasn’t merely worth something.

It was something. Not that other histories, other objects of past significance weren’t’. But this one wasn’t something for your average grave-robber.

So as he gazed out at the city, the world howling softly around them, he did take just a second longer than he might have otherwise, his binoculars scanning the carved rocks and collapsed rubbles. Only Novus’s questions set him to abandon the line of thought before he delved too deep into it.

“When the Banking Clan originally arrived on Mygeeto, the native Lurmen were less than thrilled. Hardly unique in that regard, but surely special in how well they resisted the initial encroachment.” Seeing nothing of particular intrigue, he handed her the goggles and fired up the speeder once more, adjusting his mic so that she could continue to hear him as he gave her a second to look before slowly advancing them toward the buildings. The area was flat as a level and very open near to the storm; from the circumference to the center, there was nothing, then fields of dim, greying crystals with the occasional house, then slowly growing buildings, with the tallest being nearest to the mountain along a central line.

“Obviously the Lurmen had long since discovered how to deal with the perpetual storms and ice, often discovering large cave networks, savory, seasonal dry spots, and locations in mountains such as these. This particular one, however, became a legendary refuge for those natives displaced by the encroaching Bankers. They flocked here in search of shelter, often of somber hearts. Thus the Lurmen named it so; a city of souls lost to the winds, only some barely managing to find their way here.”

The speeder began zipping through the fields of crystals. Up close they looked only slightly different; most were cracked and held little light. Those that did were astoundingly dim, barely visible against the grey ground. Motioning at them, he broke from his main tale for a moment. ”As for exploding crystals, the main economy here was energy production via the crystals. Farms of them surrounded the city. They actually used to be all the way out to the storm walls.” Smirking a little, he chuckled. “When the Clan finally found the city and enslaved it, however, all of the crystals were left unkept. I doubt I have to tell you what happens to energy-rich crystals being left in a state half-harvested with the wear and tear of centuries of natural process, decay, and damage from shelling can result in.” A few scattered, black remains of crystals throughout the field made it apparent; with nowhere to go, the farmed crystals would release their energy in one way or another.

The speeder began to zip past buildings; first houses, then apartments, and finally towers and skyscrapers. It became more and more obvious as they went further and further in that this place hadn’t just been a refuge camp; it had been a bustling metropolis, made rich by the crystals that now slowly made it crumble, a beacon of hope to a people fearing the worst.

As he stopped the speeder and found a small alley to park it in, he would finish his short lecture. ”The only reason that much is known is due to pieced-together oral histories and Lurmen records. The name is really the only thing that’s stood the test of time, and that’s due to the Muun thinking the name appropriate due to the howling wind.” To be certain, the wind was just a bit louder between the towers so much closer to the mountain; to an outsider, it would certainly seem the obvious explanation.

But setting up his rifle and shouldering his pack, the Zeltron would finally dismount and look out into the street, taking it in once more. On some day, it had been a regular city of just another sentient species, filled with just another kind of trade, heartened with just another kind of culture, carried by just another sense of being. In a way only ruins could seem to do, it still whispered those lost days over the howling wind, as if trying its best to relive the memories…

… a few speeder trails and tracks of footsteps in the light dusting of snow would reveal that some were more than willing to help it out.

”I was about to admit that I don’t have a perfect idea of where we might be headed. However, our luck seems to be holding.” Another slight concern. In his experience, even the best luck would inevitably come to a crashing halt.

[Neology]

The Dark Lady listened in silence, quite content to let Dr. Hyul ramble. As always, he seemed to enjoy having an audience. Binoculars held loosely in one hand, she let her mind and senses search wide, the mental equivalent of a cat uncoiling in the midday sun. It felt strange, the conscious decision not to hide, but it seemed that there were no Jedi or Sith to hide from in this ancient place. A pleasant enough thought that brought little relief. Force or no Force, their enemy had proven himself on Agamar.

Emotional resonance still echoed in the stone and buildings – fear and anger and hope, pale ghosts. Stronger than that, a sense of anticipation, of violent certainty, that sent a shiver down her back. Her grip on her companion's waist tightened reflexively, then gradually slackened as the impression faded.

“Is that it? They must have known the Muun would find them eventually.” She frowned at the back of the zeltron's head, dissatisfied with the story's end. The last holdout of a downtrodden slave species called for a doomed resistance.

Rase turned the speeder into an alley and parked. Novus stood, fidgeting beneath her bulky winter kit. Her eyes wandered the stone before her, picking out familiar patterns beneath a layer of ice. Meaningless characters, but the shapes recalled Faalo's second cadence. Wait – what? Novus shook her head and followed Dr. Hyul into the street. His words called her attention to the tracks in the snow. A few uncertain loops weaved around buildings here and there, but most led deeper into the city, to the crystal edifice at the center.

A dozen steps out, Novus froze in place. Beneath the eerie cry of the wind, she could pick out a new tone. Purely mechanical, oddly muffled by the terrain. Her gaze tracked to the canyon wall above, spotting a plume of oily black smoke. The gunner from before, but what were they doing? The speeder dove over the cliff as she watched, choked sputters from its engine sending the vehicle right at them. The Sith Lady turned, launching into a Force-enhanced sprint. She shoved Dr. Hyul back into the alley and followed him in. Sprawling prone, she flung her arms over her head for protection.

Too wide for the alley, the speeder crumpled. Metal sheared, stone cracked. The impact left her ears ringing. The Sith rolled over, catching a glimpse of the ill-fated driver. The steering column pierced his chest – through a lung, by the blood bubbling from his lips.


"Useless meat. A proud man's consumption." The dying man smacked his lips, a flash of pale gums and white teeth. His eyes rolled wildly in his head, then settled on her, bright with sudden clarity. He giggled. "You! There will be a great culling! I would have you take arms against the sea, pale thing!" He shifted, pulling against the rod that held him in place and drew in a wheezy breath. His gaze shifted, focusing on Dr. Hyul with a lascivious smile.

"Bring the pretty one with you."

[Fromikeable]

Rase couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the face his tale set upon Novus, her frown seeming almost a little naive to him. It was easy to forget as a historian that every tragedy was tragic, regardless of when or where it was. So much study was given to such a myriad of them, with so much focus on the reasons and the wherefores and the consequences, that it could be difficult to remember that initial emotion and perspective. That… immediate sense of empathy that drove so much of the history that was studied.

“Oh, they certainly did. Just about every record written back then had the most desperate sense of doom…” He kneeled down to look at one of the speeder tracks a little closer, a gloved hand lightly feeling it.

“But what’s a race to do when faced with no opti-” His eyes immediately squinted as a sharp sound grew in his ears from behind him. Standing, he stood still for a moment as something seemed to howl… not the wind, no, too… mechanical, too regular… the speeder maybe? He looked down the street to see nothing but gusts of wind. Where in the seven hells could it-

Novus answered his thinking before it could ask, flinging him backward into the alley as the world turned sideways. Hitting hard pavement with a thud and a little sliding, Rase would immediately obey his instincts, a hand dipping down to one of his holsters as his other covered his face. He would find himself immediately sandwiched between an unknown object and the ground as the sounds of crushing metal and stone mixed with screeching impact and the creation of rubble. Next was the quick, hard rain of sharp, hard matter, some large and just barely missing bits of him, others small and bouncing off of his face mask, accompanied by a rush of wind.

Finally there was relative quiet, save for the gentle tumblings of the last of the debris and the usual howling of the wind.

Rase pried his eyes open quickly to see what was what, what was dead, and what was somewhere in between. All he found was darkness, as there appeared to be a certain chest of a certain someone pressed to his face with a certain degree of force. For a moment, there was silence as his mind pieced things together.

“... really Ms. Tikaris, there are less destructive ways to get me to pay attention to your body.” Grinning wide under his mask, the Zeltron chuckled a little, breaking the tension as he helped her up. His hand still glued to his revolver’s holster, he looked up at the body now suspended by particularly deadly, accurate metal. The rambles of the dying man made him squint a bit, the tone sounding a bit too familiar to one who had used it himself once not too long ago.

Evidently the holocron hadn’t lost its rather obsessive influence. Furthermore, either he had an unprecedented resistance to such effects, or, more likely, the effect had only become more potent for some reason.

To his surprise, he received an order. “And here I thought I was the pretty one.” He crossed his arms, clearly not only skeptical of the speech, but also clearly a little defiant.

“A proud man’s consumption indeed. Such pride will leave your skin red twice over.” The body tensed, the life within it clearly trying to cling to the mortal plane as it was moved less and less like a person and more like a doll. A shaky hand pointed at Novus. “You. You shall fuel the cull. Your blood will not paint the ground as this one’s does.”

“And where am I to bring her then, such that I might aid in your painting?”

The voice took on a particularly unnatural tone, uttering its next few words with a rasp as sharp as the wind. “Gage Foruthen.” The pointing hand fell as the body started to tremble, blood beginning to ooze over its teeth as the shivering face’s eyes opened wide, the strain on it apparent. Before it began the sickening gurgling of a man choking on his own innards, it managed a final line.

“Again… again, again, again... “

Finally the body went totally limp, the tissue finally being allowed to rest in its demise as blood dripped down its form on to the dead ground below. It was almost a little poetic; in a city that had not seen blood nor life in centuries, the ground seemed to soak in the red liquid as a thirsty sponge, dying for anything that might return it life.

The crimson man that stood atop it, meanwhile, held his chin in thought for a moment before piping up, looking back at Novus. “Gage Foruthen. The Vault of Misfortune.” He raised a brow. “Whatever influence our friend was under, his interest in an empty box is curious.”

[Neology]

Novus accepted his help, shooting her companion a skeptical look as he pulled her to her feet. He wouldn't be appreciating anyone's body if his own was full of shrapnel. She'd deflected most of the fragments telekinetically, but a few small fragments stuck in her coat. She picked at one of these, listening to the madman's drivel. The Force shifted and buckled around him, tracers of power leading off into the distance.

The line cut abruptly and the driver expired, a gout of warm blood spilling from his nose and slack lips. Brain hemorrhage? Side effect, perhaps the result of a particularly indelicate practitioner. Rase had been lucky. Still was.

“Well, that was interesting. As far as invitations go.” Novus muttered, focusing on the wreck. A burst of telekinesis pushed it back into the street, metal grinding and screeching against itself and the strange … Pavement? Upon examination, the street and the buildings appeared unmarked. Frowning, she stepped back onto the main thoroughfare, head on a swivel as she checked to make sure the way was clear.

It was.

“Vault of Misfortune?” Novus glance back, quirking a brow. “I assume that name means something to you, then. Know where it is?” She shuffled forward, heading toward the only obvious objective: the crystalline menhir that toward above the abandoned city. As she moved, she stuck close to the side of the road, ready to duck into another alley should someone try shooting at them.

“I can't figure this out. Why go through so much trouble to bring this holocron to this place? What's valuable enough to make stealing from me worth the risk?”

[Fromikeable]

As Novus cleared their path with her powers, the good doctor would find himself deep in thought, his hand applied against his chin through his mask, his rich voice humming lightly. Gage Foruthen. What in the galaxy could anyone want with such a giant freezer? Surely there were no records of its contents, but…

“Straight on.” He motioned forward at what she was already leading him toward; the great crystalline mountain, its peak glimmering just a bit as a small bit of sunlight managed to peek through the swirling winds for a moment, revealing just how deep a blue it was. The street they walked down, like every avenue of the decrepit city, converged at a single terminal; a mammoth diamond carved into the side of the mountain, its finer details still obscured by the wind.

“And first you must understand that the vault is a nut that history has proven particularly uncrackable. Imagine doors thicker than a starship, harder than Mandalorian iron, and literally fused together. That should give you a good starting idea.” As they walked, the diamond structure came into greater view; it was less a two-dimensional inscription and more of a sideways pyramid made of the same smooth, seemingly undisturbable stone as the rest of the city, with streaks of crystals leading to a large entrance beneath it.

A large entrance that was, in fact, open.

“It’s thought that the Lurmen had intended it to be a last will and testament, so to speak. A bastion in which to hoard all of their culture, wealth, and achievements. More an effort to rob the Muun of their identity than a true time capsule, ergo when they sealed it, they didn’t seem to design a way to unseal it.” The lecturing tone gave way to one that was far more thoughtful and speculative as he went on.

“Some haven’t been quite satisfied with that explanation, however, and have proposed that Gage Foruthen has ways of opening far beyond probable thought. Elaborate systems of mirrors, particular blood rituals with no cultural base…” He shrugged lightly. “The list goes on. Of that list, quite a few have been tried, and just as many have failed to make so much as a scratch.”

“The only solutions I can come up with then are that our robber either thinks that your holocron holds the secret to opening the damnable thing, or…” He raised a brow, walking beside her and giving her a skeptical look at his own impending statement. “... that the holocron itself is, in some form, the means of getting to the treasures within. Either way, they’re operating on wild speculation and an immense level of greed.” No one tried to open a vault with a holocron stolen from a Sith Lady if they didn’t seek what was inside for themselves and only themselves.

As they came upon the structure, however, it became apparent that even if their opponent’s cause was greedy, their help’s cause had become more and more disarrayed. At least two dozen bodies lay in various states of dismemberment, disfigurement, or immolation just outside the entrance. They lay over various signs of chaos; destroyed speeders, a burning shuttle bearing a Sith-government insignia, and general signs of a great struggle. What few men and women that managed to retain a slight grip on life could be seen twitching and mumbling in a robotic manner, making it clear that whatever had happened, no one had escaped with a sane mind.

It made Rase shiver just a bit. He wasn’t too proud to admit that they were dealing with forces he understood to a very, very small degree. His hand sticking to his holster, he viewed the scene for a moment before adding one small amendment.

“... Did I say immense? Let’s update that to ‘titanic’.”

---

Meanwhile, within, an interesting scene awaited them. A single mercenary, bloodied and wounded, his armor destroyed, his right arm hanging off of his body by all but a few sinews, stood in a strangely relaxed pose within a great atrium. The ceiling was barely visible in the relative darkness, the place only illuminated by a few exploratory floodlights set up before the massacre, and immense crystal columns held it so. Behind him stood an equally immense wall of deep blue crystal with pinstripe engravings both beautiful in their elegance and yet clearly sharp in their styling.

In his right hand, held delicately, was a floating holocron, glowing a dark red as it seemed to pulse with energy. Before him on the floor sat a full-scale communicator, with a Zeltron man in a fine, light-colored, unbuttoned suit being projected at life-size. The projected man’s tone was clearly a bit offended, whereas the mercenary’s was oozing with a sense of victory.

The projected man only seemed to find that somewhat more irritating. “Absolutely worthless. An entire company of you people, and you sooner shoot out one another’s eyes than follow the instructions given.”

The mercenary only seemed to find that more amusing. “Poor, quaint little man. Still thinking you have control.” He motioned with his barely-attached arm, the force controlling it clearly not of the body. “You have started the culling, however. Be joyful for that.”

“Yes, yes, and my blood shall water the planets.” The projected man sighed, pinching his nose. “In the meantime, mightn’t you reconsider my offer?”

The mercenary actually hissed a bit. “To offer a mere man immortality? No, no, no, no…” He laughed a little, finishing with. “Nor shall I your other cullingmates. All must be taken, and surely none deserve the galaxy’s heart.”