Deadly Crossing - [Ghostie]

[Harukei]

A semblance of normality returned to her. The ire, the fury, the wrath that boiled within her simmered and became mere embers kept at bay only thanks to her self control. But that did not quell the memories much. Kol's tale was but a distant echo against a raging storm, the words becoming lost through the constant drops of a rain that did not cede in its intensity, a story and reasons did not compare against the mental scar that had been living through that as a child, to unknowingly feeling the pain of everyone that was enslaved, even those that died in such despair and entropy. 

Syrin snapped back from the vacant stare and would look at the man as he finished his story, after devouring one of the rations pack and vaguely recollected the story. It was so brave, so noble, so Jedi of him. Briefly she dwelt on the memory of the Jedi Knights rescuing her and her sister. Only to leave her behind in Druckenwell as they took Asra with them. She never thought much about her sister, for all the she knew, Asra could have dropped out of the Order, she could have been killed or even made a member of one of the service corps the Jedi assigned their dropouts to. 

"That's very noble."

The Sith said in a whisper, echoing her thoughts. In all honesty she didn't care about what happened to the slaves. There was no sympathy beyond the mere and simple desire to slay as many Zygerrians as she could before she left this arid rock. A rancor could suddenly appear and begin to feast on them and she would not move a finger. She had been strong to escape out of the situation her life had placed her through, she had been strong enough to fight her torturers long enough to survived until the Jedi came. If they did not found that strength on themselves, then it was not her problem. 

When the question about what she wanted to do came, the answer was a rather obvious one. She still hungered for revenge, for reckoning and vengeance against her former slavers. And if she had to cut a path through them to do so, she would, no force in this world of the living nor the one of the death would stop her in this and she knew it. Stil a part of her contained surprise at the fact of the implicit declaration that he would not interfere with her affairs with the Princeps. A sensible Jedi? She thought with some amusement. 

It was a thing almost unheard of, specially when the Jedi had come to protect him in the first place, foiling her plans when victory was all but secured. In her experience Jedi were stubbornly adept in defending those that didn't deserve such honor, scum specially. She released a sigh and looked at him again, ready to provide her answer.

"I will slay all Zygerrian's in my path, all that are an obstacle between me and the Princeps. What you do with your slaves is not of my concern, Kol, but I thank you in not getting in my way for this, at least this time."

[Ghostie]

Keres’s words were laced with the venom of revenge, and the rage of the pain she had experienced at the Zygerrian’s hands however long ago seeped through. It was as if it was the woman’s mission in life to bring ruin to this Princeps. Kol hugged his knees and looked sideways at the raven-haired beauty, studying her for a moment. The Jedi couldn’t say that he blamed the Sith for her actions. At the very least, he could understand them. Still, Kol had wished that Keres had made the choice to rise above her pain, instead of embracing it. He almost wanted to ask what was next, after killing this particular slaver. What would she find rage at then, and what new ways would she find to fuel her dark desires. Did she have any cause, other than seeing the Zygerrian’s brought to heel? Or would she just be any one of a normal Sith after that?

But the Jedi Master bit his tongue, and let the small silence of understanding float between the pair, who should be enemies instead of allies. Kol did think it was unfortunate that Keres was a Sith; with the sort of focus and tenacity she showed, she could make a great Jedi, in his mind. But once again, he didn’t say anything to the fact. Perhaps it was just the part of his mind which wished to come to terms with finding the woman physically appealing. Huffing a bit as Keres mentioned Kol not getting in her way this time, he shook his head and smiled a small bit.

“Ahaha, I wasn’t the one who blew up the space station. I’d say you had a decent chance of getting him depsite the homicidal droids and Tansar literally ripping itself apart. Not counting a certain, long-haired Jedi.”

His jab was meant more to tease Keres than anything. It really didn’t matter whose fault it was at this point in time, just that the mission was completed. Still, without a lot of those factors, Kol reckoned that his mission would’ve been so much shorter than it was now. He’d be dealing with a dead lead and no idea as to where his missing Republic citizens where. Tansar would still be intact, but that was hardly a win in his book. The place had been nothing more than a fueling station and storage area for the Zygerrians.

Watching the sunset a moment longer, Kol stood to his feet, and offered a hand for Keres to do the same. The Jedi lifted his shirt, and without looking, he ripped off the kolto bandages that covered his torso and ribs. The sharp sounds of the adhesive leaving the skin made Kol flinch and winch a bit, but the more quickly he pulled, the better it was in the long run. The swelling seemed to go down, and the bruises looked days old, rather than fresh and new. He was still a bit sore, but Kol could work with what he had. Packing the used bandages away along with the rations and such, he turned a looked at Keres, finding her soft face, drowned out by those ruby eyes.

If it wasn’t for those eyes... Kol's thoughts were silent, and the Jedi Master quickly shooed them away from his mind.

“Ready to go?”

[Harukei]

"Ready."

She replied, staring back at him, at the solitary bright blue eye, deciding there was nothing else to share over, little to bond over the fact that Syrin would get her long awaited revenge. A part of her felt like there was something else he had wanted to say, but that he didn't with to express or even press on. The Sith got to her feet and gathered whatever else lay in their small camp that could be of use as she allowed the Jedi to start up the speeder bike. 

---

Syrin crawled under the high grass. The russet vegetation turning into a pale brown at the lack of light but the dim shine of the stars above. The cool breeze sway the long strands, creaking and cracking twigs and dried, long death bushels and bulbous trees. Her crawl came into a halt and she looked back to see the muscle bound shape of the Jedi just behind her. With a wave of her hand, she signaled him to come to closer, to take a peak and share in her opinion. 

Down below, at the outskirts of the hill they had used to spot on, lay the Zygerrians base, she reached through the Dark Side, the soft whispers granting her clarity as she sensed the life of every worthless being in the base, even the Princeps. He is here. She thought. Anger began to bubble little by little, igniting the embers that would turn into a raging fire of chaos and fury that would sweep through the base. If Tansar point was a collection of pods, umbilicals, old ships and prefabricated units haphazardly welded to a central core and a hangar that was too big for a station of such side, their base down the surface of Saleucami was just about the same.

A huddled collection of prefabricated habitation units of different makes and styles with crowded dirt roads that sported too many crates, all making a messy crown to a central building that was more akin the prefabricated bases that were often carried by Imperial Forced on planetary deployments. A motor pool was visible on the far side of the base, as groups of speeder bikes came and went with their usual whining sound. A large landing strip that had been set next to the central building contained a different number of drop ships, transport and vessels, republic, imperial, mandalorian and even other models that seemed more organic than of an actual metallic hull. 

Her gaze became predatory as her eyes turned to the fences of durasteel that being set in the perimeter and the towers that had floodlights attached to them. The hum of a transport came, the lights of the sublight engines washing over them and blinding them for a second as it made a final approach and landed softly on the strip.

Syrin turned once more to the Jedi as she retreated away from the edge and into the cover of the grass as she began to formulate the plan. A head on assault would be suicide, Kol could charge and drag their attention towards him, but he would die eventually. No one could take such a fusillade and live. She stopped. Why do I care? If he dies is one Jedi less to deal with. Syrin would question herself, but didn't press the issue much longer. She looked at him.

"We can't go head on." She whispered. "Too much of a risk. And those flood light are a problem if we're caught. The Princeps could escape... We need a distraction, something loud, something to take their attention away for a second. Any ideas?"

[Ghostie]

At Keres’s beckon, Kol moved forward from where he had been crouching, just next to their speeder bike. He had been waiting, ready to spring in if their approach had been heard or the Sith had been seen. The Jedi had let the Sith Lady scout the area out, first. Her lithe frame and seemingly natural talent for camouflage gave her the obvious advantage over his rather large stature. He wasn’t quite as well suited to stealth elements as she seemed to be. It was almost weird how much the two of them seemed to fill in each other’s weaknesses quite well. Kol pondered the topic as he kept a careful watch on Keres’s back.

Unlike Keres, who had managed to crawl under and through the tall grass and brambles and bushes, as Kol moved forward on his stomach he flattened the vegetation. After all, he had all the grace of an armored military vehicle. When he pulled himself up to the ridge to asses the situation, there was a clear trail left in his wake from the pair’s speeder bike to his current location. Gripping the edge of the ridge with one hand, Kol turned a bit on his side to face Keres, and propped himself up on the same elbow. His one eye narrowed a bit and a frown crossed his face as he studied the base below. With just one eye and the moonlight, making out details was difficult.

It was all sort of haphazardly thrown together, truth be told. One clear central building, and others scattered about, along with a currently active landing strip. There was probably an armory, and some barracks. Maybe a garage. The Jedi reached out through the Force, though, and searched the base with his sixth sense. There were definitely slaves down below. Whether or not they were the ones Kol was looking for, he wasn’t sure. But their despair and pain could be felt all around in the outlying buildings.

The Sith was right about not being able to head at the base head on. Even if it was in the middle of the night, and they were just slavers and not actual military, it’d still be the hardest approach. Perhaps if they had two or three more Jedi or Sith, they could pull off such a feat. But Keres wanted something loud. Something big. Any sort of distraction. Kol scanned the place one more, and he saw what could be their ticket in; a large piece of machinery near the landing strip.

“That…” The Jedi pointed, studying the machine. “... is a power generator.”

Kol stood to a crouch, and made his way back over to the speeder bike. A plan was forming in his mind quickly. Perhaps not the best plan. But it would certainly serve as Keres’s distraction. The Jedi undid his hair as he went, shaking the golden mane free as he took the tie in one hand. Talking over his shoulder to the Sith Lady, Kol explained his rather simple, and flashy, idea.

“If we guide the speeder bike into it, it should cause enough damage to knock out power to the entire base. I can drive it close, jump off, and use this…” He held up the hair tie, as he started to prime and turn on the vehicle. “... To hold the throttle after I get off. Your Princeps will be trapped inside, but you have a lightsaber to make your own doorway. There will be no floodlights, no alarms, and the people I’m looking for can escape before the Zygerrians even know what happened.”

[Harukei]

She watched him as he pointed towards the power generator, a large block like thing that had too many power couplings and cables running in and from it, the haphazard arrangement of the power grid gave to her an indication that the generator, even without the usual protection casings about it and the numerous components exposed to the outdoors had to be city grade one to be able to power the random constructions of the camp. It was a solid plan. 

The Sith Lady continued to gaze upon him, the golden mane being released to the air, shining platinum under the nightly sky as the Jedi approached to the speeder bike they had used to get to the base. She followed back, crouching as he had done through the dried out vegetation until she stood behind him and the plan was explained to her. Or at least what the Jedi Master thought a plan was. 

"Wait... you what?"

Her features twisted leaving the stoicism that they usually presented, deferring only to rage, this time mired in disbelief. The plan, if that could be called so, was so reckless, so maverick that a part of her wondered if the man was trying to impress her with his lack of regard for his own safety that bordered into the realm of the suicidal. She composed herself, Syrin took a moment to analyze the idea behind it and despite for the fact that he could be easily shot down, it was rather solid. 

"Better you than me, I suppose."

A part of her wondered if there were more Jedi like him in the galaxy. She had met only those that she had slayed and those that had escaped her assassinations. For her they were the self righteous defenders of the bloated cadaver that was the Republic, keeping ideals that harked back to the foundation of the now crumbled government, so massive that is bureaucracy held it back. But, he was different, at the very least he had not preached the same rehearsed lines of she having something good inside of her. And the reckless streak seemed rather appealing. 

She stopped herself there then. They were allies of convenience and nothing more.  Under any other circumstance she would have killed him and for what they had lived, it was more than likely that this would be their only meeting. The Princeps was her mission, her lightsaber thirsted for his blood and flesh. She would have her revenge. 

"Very well then, do it. I will use the chaos to hunt for the Princeps."

She took another look at him and spoke in honesty.

"I can extract the whereabouts of your slaves from him if needed."

Even as she disliked the idea of helping him further, it was the least she could do, to honor their temporary alliance. She looked at the light that emanated from the base and narrowed her eyes. Her breath becoming like a fan that ignited the fury inside her as the air turned drier in her vicinity. 

"Whenever you're ready, Kol." 

[Ghostie]

“No… That’s okay. Thanks, though.”

Kol paused for a moment and eyed Keres as she offered to try and help the Jedi by extracting information from the Princeps for Kol’s wayward Republic citizens. No matter how sincere her offer was, he wouldn't accept. All he could think about was earlier that day, when she had twisted and snapped that Zygerrians mind in her quest for information. The sick, untenable feeling it had produced in the man’s presence in the Force. Even if Kol wasn’t going to stand in her way while she took her vengeance out on the Princeps, he still didn’t wish that sort of pain and torment on the man, no matter how despicable he was. Still, Kol cocked a smile at the Sith as he swung a leg up and over the speeder bike.

“I’ll just free them all. Republic, Imperial, not. Military, citizen, criminal…” He waved a hand back and forth as he spoke, his tone light. “... If they’re in a cage, it doesn’t matter who they are.”

In the small span of that day, Keres had gone back and forth on tugging on Kol’s heart strings, and then reminding him just how much of a Lady of the Sith she was. Perhaps it was a good thing, as it kept the Jedi’s base emotions in check. She was cold, and brutal, and calculating. She wore those haunting, blood red eyes that just weren’t right or natural. Yet she was quite beautiful to look at, and Kol didn’t believe that she was a Sith out of desire, but out of circumstance. There was far more to the woman than simply seeking power, or carrying out some twisted fantasy like some Sith. Rolling the speeder bike up slowly next to the woman, the Jedi admired the way the moonlight played on her dark hair, before his voice spoke up in a serious, quiet tone.

“Hey, Cyar’ika… Be careful. I’ll be close by if you need me.”

Kicking the starter on the bike, Kol revved the engine once, and then sped off down the embankment.

---

The high-pitched whine of the speeder bike was deafening to it’s rider, as the Jedi twisted the throttle more and more, trying to coax as much speed as he could out of the engine before they reached the perimeter of the base. The Zygerrians had already seen the man and his suicidal approach. A blaster cannon emplacement from one of the watchtowers had opened fired, but Kol let the Force flow through his movements, and he could sense every shot before it exploded in the dirt in front of him as he zigged and zagged out of the way of the red bolts cutting through the night. The worst he received was a spattering of dirt and dust from a bolt that shot up soil above him.

Taking the hair tie in one hand as Kol tried to keep driving and look forward, he looped it once around the throttle, twisted it, and looped it again. It was tight, and would hold. The speeder bike clear the fence, and the power generator was just a few seconds away. The Jedi slid off the bike rather smoothly, and tumbled to the ground, rolling sideways to break his fall. Stopping just in time, Kol looked up to see the speeder bike pummel into the generator, as the two went up in an impressive fireball of metal and sparks. Shielding his eyes from the roaring inferno, the rest of the base went dark, and Kol used the darkness to slip away, before the Zygerrians could reach where he had been laying.

Keres was already inside the fence. Her rage and anger was like a beacon in the otherwise dark night. If it wasn’t for the burning generator, which now had what used speeder bike sticking out of its side, the entire base would be completely dark. Kol watched as much of the guards scurried frantically around the wreckage, like bugs drawn to a light as they tried to figure out how to fight the fire, or find some sort of power once again. Taking a moment to study the guards, Kol slipped off to the edge of the camp, towards some of the outlying buildings where he hoped and assumed they kept slaves and captives.

[Harukei]

Nar Mollec was like any other adult Zygerrian. Born to one of the lesser noble houses that comprised the slaver empire, Mollec had grown from among his brood to a powerfully built and tall male. Even as his late father had squandered much of the family fortune built on the backs of the savages of worlds a part of him didn't care. He didn't care because he aimed higher than simply attaining the role of Seneschal of his house. For him, he would be Princeps or nothing at all. 

With a veneer of passivity obscuring his arrogant nature, Nar Mollec took a swig of the glass of amasec, delighting on the strong flavors and smokey after taste as the liquor smoothed down his throat. Clearly something than the whelps he had been assigned as their Martial would never afford in their lives, coming from impoverished and baseborn families. His grey eyes switched to the hand that he held in his hands and almost he had trouble hiding the content of what fortune had brought him. 

"Well... MaDall, Omus... The game comes to an end."

His nodded towards the pile of credits in the middle of the table. The last hand. Of course for now it was for the bragging right and just to keep the money they had taken from the would be slaves. With Tansar Point Station being nothing than a smoldering crater and debris all over the planet, it would be three months before he could dare to spend it, if he was being optimistic. The other two Zygerrians shook their heads, MaDall was first, he was thin and wicked faced with a scar that had occurred when a power lash had rebounded against the floor and gashed his face.  

"Nothing..."

The thin male said as he folded his card. Omus plump and burly folded the cards as well again with nothing noteworthy. It almost took away the enjoyment of victory to have them with such lousy cards. Almost that was, it was all good to put them in their place. He gave them a toothy grin as he folded his own hand, revealing a full sabaac. 

"Guess the credits are mine boys..."

He said with a chuckled as he served himself more of the amasec to find the bottle empty. He turned towards the other figure in the room, a Zabraki female that was rather appealing save for the slave collar around her neck. He hurled the bottled as it bounced from her, crashing into a wall, breaking in thousands upon thousands of green shards. DaMall and Omus laughed at what happened, and Nar leaned back. 

"Bring us food and drinks, you scum!"

Nar barked in an order and the female left in a hurry, ignoring the shards of glass broken upon the floor. He would get her for that later. Suddenly an explosion was heard and the base was shocked by an explosion. The habitation unit went dark, with the emergency generators barely able to power the red emergency light common to these cubicles. He grunted in exasperation. He know what that meant not that the emergency klaxon began to blare out again. 

"Get your weapons! Move!"

Nar ordered the pair and they were on there way with the rest of off-duty security forces of the base. 

---

He could smell the ash in the air. The sooth and the stench of fuel spilled ablaze as the motor pool descended unto an inferno. He dragged himself over broken debris, sharp edged as he held his sight and the low rumbling in his eyes slowly turned into the roaring scene of flames and the screams of dead men that walked. He stopped and leaned against the sole transport that remained intact. His hand pressing against his side, the shrapnel embedded deeply into the wound. 

And then the sound returned slowly and Nar Mollec knew that he would take that sound with him for the rest of days. He saw the arcs of fury that drew crimson against the ever devouring flames. He smelled the ozone as the energy blade carved through plasteel armor, skin, sinew and bone with the ease of a hot knife through bantha butter. And he heard the screams of all of them, all of them, again and again as they pleaded for lives. 

Is this the power of the Sith? He asked in silence, with incredulity as twenty men had come against a single woman, twenty had come to destroy her and twenty had failed in their fear attempting to use the flames and the destruction of the motor pool to stop her. Nothing did. And he stared blankly as the infernal flames as a feminine figure stood a top of a mountain of corpses, holding her hand as tree men he knew as the senior most Martials stood entrapped by invisible threads, as their bodies slowly and methodically crunched like eggs and vegetables. 

They dropped like twisted rag dolls and the gaze of the woman shifted to him, slowly advanced with the sanguine blade at hand, eyes shining brightly red in anger. His hands went for his blaster pistol, fumbling it away before she stood before him. A beauty of a human, terrible as the Zygerrian had only imagined in his worst nightmares. He closed his eyes and hoped that he death came swift for him.

---

The Princeps could not believe it. He pressed against the transparisteel sheet of his newly furbished office on the base. And still he could not believe the darkness that had engulfed the base, nor the raging flames that had erupted by the motor pool. 

"She's here." He whispered in terror and turned against his guard. "The Sith is here! The explosion did not kill her, nor that Jedi fool did!"

"My Lord, we're doing what we can. But other sectors have told us about slaves, leaving their corrals!"

The Princeps roared in anger. 

"I CARE NOT FOR THE SLAVES! PREPARE MY SHIP YOU IMBECILE." 

The guard was about to respond before a transmission came, pressing against the communicator on his wrist a garbled communication came through. 

"Sir... she's.. the sith... she's... arrrggg..."

The transmission remained open and the Princeps turned to the guard with a pale face. 

"The Ship now you fool! Or we'll die."

They moved to the door, before the transmission came again. A voice emerged from it, cold and unforgiving. The Sith's voice, the girl that had come to end him.

"You will not go anywhere, I will find you Princeps. And I shall kill you."

---

Syrin spoke the words through one the communicator devices she had ripped from the helmet. The transmission was cut, but she could feel the dread and it pleased her. She would revenge, no matter what happened. She would. She made her hand a fist and crushed the delicate equipment now out of its shell and head towards the Princeps and her long awaited vengeance. What Kol did, mattered little to her. 


 

[Ghostie]

"Sir... she's.. the Sith... she's... arrrggg..."

It had been an open communication, when the men in the landing zone had radioed into the Princeps about the Sith’s assault. The fact that the voices on the comlink were followed by the sounds of blasterfire, fighting, and then a final, deafening silence did little to reassure the pair of Zygerrians who were now sitting in the dark, inside of the base’s makeshift prison. One, an older and more experienced man, sat in the corner with a blaster rifle across his lap, slowly dragging on a cigarette had had produced from his vest pocket. His experienced eyes scanned the bars, and the people behind, meeting each of their fearful, confused gaze with his own stoic look.

A Sith tearing up the base was not a good thing, but it wasn’t like they could get out of the prison without any power running to the doors. So it was best to sit and wait it out. Hope that the Sith bypassed them, and then find a way out of their predicament. The other Zygerrian was not following the same thought process, however. He was a bit younger, and paced back and forth with his weapon in one hand and communicator in the other. He kept barking into the comlink, growing more desperate and more fearful with every sentence. They knew that no one else was out there. The younger of the two just refused to give it up.

“Mollec? Mollec?!”

“Give it up, Kid.”

The slaves watched the exchange back and forth between the two Zygerrians, as they huddled in their cells together, and could only wonder with fear and confusion what was going on. Someone had overheard the Zygerrians talking about a Sith. Perhaps they were rescued? But nothing had happened as of yet. The only interesting things to happen all night was the power going out, and the two guards arguing about what to do afterwards. There seemed to be the sound of fighting outside, but it was muffled, and hard to hear. A few slaves argued that it was even there, and just their imaginations playing tricks on them. The new ones, from the Republic, had thought he heard fighting. The old slaves knew that hope would be gone soon enough.

“Someone could be - !”

But the younger of the two Zygerrians, who was in the middle of arguing against his counterpart’s comments about waiting for things to blow over, was quite rudely interrupted mid-sentence when an iridescent blade of green energy pierced through the sealed doorway. All the occupants of the small building watched on in amazement as the tip of the laser sword swiftly cut around the frame of the entryway. The older Zygerrian dropped the cigarette from his mouth at the spectacle, and could only utter out one thing.

“That’s no Sith…”

---

Kol’s lightsaber had melted right through the door, and once his cut was complete, he lifted a leg and gave the slab of metal a hard roundhouse kick. The durasteel feel inside of the building, flying forward a few short feet before doing so, it’s edges still glowing hot with an orange fury. His green blade lighting the way, the Jedi Master followed the slab of metal inside, to find two Zygerrians. One was across the room, which was little more than a small area before a large cell. The other was practically in front of Kol, having stepped out of the way of the flying door. Just behind them, the Jedi could barely see the slaves by the light of his weapon, huddled in bunches on the other side of bars that when from the floor to the ceiling.

And Kol didn’t wait to go on the offensive. He lunged at the first Zygerrian closest to him with an uppercut from his lightsaber, severing one of the feline’s hands and part of his other arm. The man fell to the ground, shocked with pain and unable to say anything before passing out. It was all the other could do to get a few shots off with his blaster rifle, which were swiftly redirected back into the man’s torso as the bounced off of the lightsaber. He fell from his stool, and slumped against the wall, unmoving.

These were, in truth, the first Zygerrians that Kol had to fight while within the confines of the base. While the Jedi Master had delivered the grandest of entrances to cover for Keres’s approach, once the Sith Lady had entered the base, no one had cared about Kol any more. The Jedi could feel the rage letting loose across the compound, coupled with hatred and fury. It reminded him of the War, and it made him concerned. Not concerned for his own well-being, or that she might turn on him once she ran out of targets to slaughter. but for Keres. He hoped that her fury didn’t blind her to a lucky shot, or a swift blow. His conflicting feelings about the Sith Lady were still unresolved, even despite her display of Sith prowess.

Nonetheless, Keres’s display had done more than enough to keep the rest of the base busy as Kol searched for his missing captives. Crossing the room in a few strides, the Jedi didn’t bother to look at who might be from the Republic, and who might be elsewhere. Finding the locks on the celldoors, he drove the tip of his lightsaber through each and every one, freeing every prisoner he could. Young helped the old to their feet, who were weak with malnourishment. A few men grabbed weapons from the fallen guards, so they could protect the group from any other Zygerrians that may be lurking in the night. Having opened up the last cell, Kol returned his lightsaber to his belt, and gently helped an elderly woman with wiry grey hair to her feet.

It seemed that the Zygerrians had not bothered to “sort” through their slaves yet, which was quite lucky indeed.

“There’s still a few ships on the landing strip…” Kol started, his voice projecting across the inside of the building to grab everyone’s attention. “... Are there any pilots among you?”

A Rutian Twi’lek male raised his hand, as did a bearded human of the same gender.

“I flew for the Republic Navy.” The Twi’lek responded.

“And I was a cargo pilot in the Outer Rim.” The human said. Kol nodded as they finished, and the pair looked at each other, as if finding themselves unceremoniously partnered up by a school teacher.

“Good. Those who can walk good, help the others. I’ll make sure you all make it safely to the ships.”

[Harukei]

The reinforced durasteel door closed with a hiss of hydraulics and a whine as whatever troopers and slavers had come in the defense of their master in a narrow corridor inside the dilapidated base. Inside the panic room however it was a contradiction of the corroded, dirty nature of the Zygerrian base. It was pristine, with an air carried more the recycled after taste of air more akin to a ship under construction, the walls were of a slate grey and there were shelves upon shelves of first aid kids, rations packs, purified water and a basic assortment of weapons and energy packs. 

"Do you think they will stop her?"

The Princeps asked as he hurried to a wall, he began to press against a panel built unto a wall of the shelter. His personal bodyguard moved in close, expecting for a secret exit that would lead them to a ship, only to feel the cruel jab of disappointment as he man retrieved a gold and black pyramid out of containment. Some artifact no doubt that he had the numerous excavations of slaves dig out for his own profit. The guard would look at him. 

"Those our best troops, sir, and that is a tight corridor, Sith's are not gods."

A word was caught in the Princeps throat, the muffled sound of blasters and sonic chargers detonations came through and both the Princeps and his bodyguard turned to face door, the slab of durasteel and plasteel that had allegedly being capable of taking a planetary bombardment. The hum of a lightsaber was vague, but it was still there, until there was no more blaster fire, but urgent, frenzied and terrified taps against the door that died down. 

For a few seconds there was only silence, growing stagnant as the hard breathing of the Princeps and his bodyguard were the only sounds in that room. Suddenly the door buckled, metal painfully protested as something pushed against it with ferocity and calculated fury, bending the innards of the door in an unnatural manner. The lights flickered out and darkness enveloped the room only to be dispelled by the blood lambent of lightsaber blade as it pierced and carved the durasteel with the ease of a hot knife through butter. 

A massive slab fell, carved from the even bigger door as hot slag melted of the surface touched by the energy blade. The feminine figure took a step forward, eyes burning redder than the lightsaber in her grasp, the scene of carnage and death visible behind her as smmoke and the stench of cooked flesh filled the nostrils of the still alive Zygerrians. The bodyguard acted on impulse. He had defeated force sensitives before, he had defeated the Jedi, the honor he could gain if he killed this woman. 

"NOW YOU DIE SITH!" 

It was the last thing he said, before he ran, vibroblade in hand in a warrior frenzy. Soon would his mangled corpse slam against the walls. 

---

Syrin lowered her hand and stepped over the mangled corpse of the Zygerrian, dodging the forming pool of blood that had begun to ooze from the cadaver. Her nostrils filled with the stench of fire, smoke and death, her body unscathed save for glancing burns of blaster bolts that had barely caressed the air around her. It was here at last that she would gain her revenge. The Princeps was at her mercy. 

But the slaver would not surrender so easily, his hand went to his pocket, his clawed digits surrounded the handle of the weapon and in unison with the rest of the limb, he did pulled the blaster pistol from its holster, aiming it quickly at her chest. But the darkside was with her now. Her hand made a twisting motion, her eyes solely concentrated on the hand that held the blaster. What had to be a moment of victory for the slaver became a cry of anguish as the barrel from the weapon twisted as if it had been beckoned by the very air, wrapping itself tightly against the digits and crushing bone bellow.

"Please... no... mercy... let me live... please... I will give you all that I promised Lord Tempestus... the holocron its yours."

He sobbed as he showed her the artifact, holding it in the still unharmed hand. Syrin stopped and looked at the artifact, sensing how it called to her, sensing how the fatigue seemed to melt away and the promise of more power was slowly taking hold of her thoughts. The Sith's eyes then returned to the Zygerrian, to the man she had come to kill to exact her revenge. 

"Tempestus is dying... His time is done and once he dies I shall reclaim what is mine... He might had have use for you."

She appraised the glint of hope to keep his life in the way his eyes shone. 

"But I have no use for you... slaver."

Her lightsaber died with a snap hiss as her hand rose and made a fist, slamming the Princeps against a cold wall, the cracking sound of breaking bones under pressure filling the room before she stopped, coming closer to smell the scent of fear that came out of him. Crackling arcs of lightning began to emerged from her finger tips, dancing and burning the hair and the skin of the Zygerrian as she slowly increased the intensity and fury behind the lightning, and with it the screams of pain and despair that mingled with the low rumbling of the distant klaxon would also grow. 

"Now... scream."

Keres said, as the flesh began to burn and peel, drinking on the anguish she caused at the slaver. 

 

[Ghostie]

An eerie silence fell over the darkened landing strip, a lit with only the blossoming fire of the wrecked power generator and speeder bike, and what portions of the night sky above weren’t choked out with smoke and clouds. The entire base had fallen still since the Jedi Master had seen the refugees and slaves off on their own transport, which had long since faded out into high orbit and then hyperspace, for the nearest piece of civilization. Whether they had been Imperial citizens, or Republic, or neither, it didn’t matter to Kol. He had been sent to find the Republic colonists, but in the end, they had all needed rescuing. So that’s what he did.

Now the tall, blonde man stood vigilant over a pair of older, battered starfighters. One was an Aurek-class, an old design the Republic still used. Kol leaned against this one, giving it a sort of claim. The second starfighter seemed old as well, and Imperial in design. But both fighters were fueled, and had been run through a pre-flight. Now, all that was left was the waiting. On occasion, the silence of the Zygerrian base was punctured with a scream or a howl, reminding the Jedi Master that he was not alone. Kol hadn’t needed the outbursts of anguish for that, however. He could sense the tidal wave of rage and fury and hurt permeating throughout the area.

A dark side aura that had quickly become familiar over the day’s events.

Keres didn’t need help inside the base, Kol knew that much. And he didn’t want to ge in her way, when she was like this. When the man who had caused her so much pain was trapped inside the base as well. He was likely to become the target himself if he interfered. And perhaps Kol was a bad Jedi for not saving the Zygerrian. But on the other hand the Jedi Master decided that the Zygerrian eventually had this coming, in some form or another. And at the very least he could understand Keres’s hurt. He understood why this was so important, and why she wanted vengeance. So Kol guarded their escape, and let Keres do as she wanted. As she needed. Though Kol had a distinct feeling that there would be no guards coming for the starfighters, monetheless, he told Keres he would see this through with her, so that’s what he did. Even if she was a Sith, that didn’t mean that Kol would break his word.

Eventually, a dark, shadowy figure emerged from the lightsaber-made doorway. Kol knew it was the Sith Lady, even though her form was barely illuminated by the dancing flames. The Jedi stood up a bit straighter, but he stayed where he was. As Keres approached, Kol didn’t ask how she was, or lecture her, or inquire about the Princeps. Those were all questions she didn’t need right now. Instead, he simply stood with his arms crossed, and looked her from head to toe. If fury and bloodlust could have an effect on the physical appearance of a person, Kol saw it here in Keres's ruby eyes and clenched jaw. Her beauty from before was gone. Despite the darkside seeping from the woman, Kol still found himself concerned with her well-being.

“I - ”

Kol found himself not knowing what to say, truthfully. Recomposing himself, he started.

“Will you be able to fly either of these?”

[Harukei]

She stood over the corpses of two more over many. The all too familiar scent of ozone mingled with smoke and seared flesh filled her nostrils. Her right hand gripped the curved hilt of her sanguine blade, it's bloody lambent casting a light over the darkened hallways were blast bolts had been redirected, leaving a scorching scar on the metallic surface, exposed cabling released a shower of golden sparks further illuminating the hallway. On her left hand however, she held a pyramid of black glass inlaid with ruby veins and decorated with a dull gold carved with symbols. She heard the whispers coming from it, the untapped secrets that the sentient machinery of the artifact offered to her, alluring, appealing to her lust for knowledge and power. 

Whatever restraint she had was there, on not opening herself to the device, on not eagerly entertaining herself with the myriad of secrets and rituals and other esoteric form of powers that would have seduced other lesser Sith with a ridiculous ease for not only her restraint kept the hunger at bay. Her anger flared once again, the fury against the Zygerrians, all of them had not faded, the death of the Princeps had brought closure but with it she had internalized the agony of the man as he died, and she had pulled that memory in order to tap power yet to be awakened. It pleased her that there was no hollow principle of lost, no emptiness within her, but just a sense of renewed purpose. Truly the past of whom she had been, the girl, Syrin, was now but a memory of a past better forgotten life. 

The heat of flames warmed her skin as she passed by, the center of operations for this band of slavers now reminisced the flaming end of the station she had first arrived at. She stopped and looking at the messy and ramshackle collection of buildings, all burning down to cinders and closed her eyes, taking this moment for herself only. Resuming her stride she placed the holocron that the Princeps had so zealously guarded in her pocket as she approached the makeshift landing strip to find a tall and muscular figure as the flames danced in the distance. 

Kol stood there, awaiting when he had the chance to put this miserable world and the collaboration with her to save his precious slaves just for her. Awaiting for him for a misplaced sense of worry for an enemy. It was almost touching, almost. But at she stared at the sole blue eye she would deactivate her lightsaber in a symbol of truce, he had not meddled like he had done before, he had stayed away as she enacted her vengeance and for that she could have a sense of appreciation. The massive man stammered, fumbling words before he spoke of one of the ships, an Imperial design that she was familiar. 

"I am familiar with the model."

She replied simply, in a whisper. She stayed for a second, trying to think of words of gratitude but such a concept seemed so alien to her, that she found none that could go well with revenge and retribution. Crimson eyes looked down for a second, understanding that if there was a next time they would found each other, it was more than likely that they would be at each other's throat. She took a step forward and moved to the ship before stopping suddenly and looking back. 

"Thank you, Kol."

Syrin uttered softly, before resuming her stride and jumping into the cockpit of the ship.  

[Ghostie]

As the pair of starfighters rose from the shadowy Saleucamian surface, the first rays of sunlight could be seen from the east, as the star Stisste started to rise, and chase the darkness away. However, the pair of moons that the planet had captured eons ago were not eager to give up their night, and still hung high and to the west, one just below the other. In the early verges of dawn, the roaring bonfire of metal and wreckage shone brightly down below as one of the starfighters split off from the other, and performed a low, elongated interception loop, banking to one side as it scanned the area for any other ships taking off to pursue. Certain that no one was following, the Aurek starfighter banked high, and followed it’s Imperial brethren to Space with a sharp whine of it’s engines trailing behind.

As the turbulence of exiting the atmosphere passed, Kol felt as if a sudden great weight had left his shoulders, despite the crash webbing strapped against his broad form. He was tired. It had been a long day, and he was nearly twenty-four hours without sleep. And not only had it been a long day, but it had been a very interesting day, to say the least. Blowing up a space station. Freeing slaves. Fighting Zygerrians. But at the top of the very interesting list was Keres. The Jedi Master hadn’t expected to find an ally, even a temporary one, in the Sith Lady.

His one eye looked forward to the Imperial-style fighter, it’s twin engines streaking across the stars, and Kol could see the woman in his mind. Her visage wasn’t one he was likely to forget any time soon. Despite those bright ruby eyes that seemed to pierce right through the man, the Jedi had found her quite pleasing to look at. Her slim figure, her long, raven hair. She was fierce and assertive. And yet, she was still a Sith. But not like any Sith that Kol had ever met before. She was open with her pain, with why she was the way she was. Keres struck Kol has someone who had been put on a path at a young age, and simply chosen very human choices from there on out.

It was clear, however, she didn’t regret any of her choices. And the Jedi Master respected her decision. There was no need for a ‘repent and join the light side’ speech, or to condemn her actions. But perhaps… Perhaps Kol could convince her otherwise through actions, and not words. He wouldn’t be forceful about it, but merely be a positive light amidst the darkness. That much he could do. And if nothing came of it, then so be it. But as the first starfighter blinked out into hyperspace, the Jedi Master watched it go, and had a distinct feeling that he would be seeing Keres again, and soon. Hopefully it would be on amicable terms, and not with lightsabers drawn. Kol could stand to see the Sith Lady again, in those circumstances.

Finding a pair of flight gloves resting off to the side of the pilot’s chair, Kol donned the gear, and took the ship off of auto-pilot. It was time to leave Saleucami behind. The first civilized Republic planet would do, with a nice refresher, a hot meal, and a steaming cup of caf. Maybe a cot, as well. Buth the Jedi Master supposed he wouldn’t mind sleeping in the starfighter. Then on to the Jedi Temple, to check in with the Council. Putting in the coordinates for the nearest Republic planet in the Aurek’s small databank, Kol pulled a lever, and soon he too was enveloped in the blue-white swirl of lightspeed.

FIN