Subject: [OTL]: (alt. Betsy/Star Wars) Fanged Butterfly 2: Knightcross 19/? (PG-15; imag From: Phil Hartman Date: Thu, 27 Mar 2008 06:52:03 +0000 wil-@earthling.net Fanged Butterfly Vol. 2: Knightcross Chapter 19 by Phil Hartman DISCLAIMER: Marvel's are Marvel's. LFL's are LFL's. Any original characters are mine. The rest belong to their owners/creators. No money is being made off of this. Please don't sue. NOTE: The hooded speaker's paragraph is from Legacy of the Force: Inferno, and is not original work. Just a heads-up. WARNING: Some violence, mature themes and graphic imagery. And more crazed Ewoks :P -------------------------------------------------- 40 ABY, 9 days after the Battle of Corellia: Deserted orbital vacation facility, Gilatter 8, Mid-Rim: -------------------------------------------------- Wedge Antilles was tired of waiting for the trap. He'd been expecting one to close on him since he'd fled GA space to serve his native Corellia in its defense - he didn't like Omas' bullying, and he wasn't going to leave his home system run by scum like Thrackan without some voice of decency. Then Thrackan had wound up very dead, and Dur Gejjen had ... been a disappointment. If Denjax Teppler, Aidel Saxan's ex-husband and a member of one of the various opposition parties to Thrackan's power, had been elected PM, Wedge had been fully prepared to remain in charge of the Corellian war effort. But Gejjen had been elected instead, seeming to be a decent sort, at first. Then the attack on Tenel Ka and her daughter had been ordered, and Wedge had had enough. He KNEW Tenel Ka, and anyone who ordered a murder attempt against a child was someone Wedge refused to work with. Kriff, Gejjen was a father himself. It was revolting. The problem with pulling out of the Corellian military was that if Tenel Ka had been considered a legitimate target, Wedge himself was just as expendable. More so, since if he returned to the Alliance, he might share Corellian secrets. To ... smooth his road to "retirement," Wedge had approached Gejjen and offered a deal: Let Wedge and his family leave Corellian space unharmed, with no bounty hunters after them, and Wedge would do one more favor for the home country. He really hadn't expected having to babysit his replacement's delegation to the Confederacy meeting at Gilatter, to decide who was going to be the overall military leader for the "new rebellion." #New rebellion. Ungrateful ... no, Antilles. Be nice. You had your day. Be grateful yourself for a chance at a quiet retirement ...# Wedge thought, checking his watch as his companion - Admiral Genna Delpin, his replacement as the Supreme Commander of the Corellian military forces. She was a Caucasian human female, with short black hair and a well-honed body which both warned and allured - or it WOULD allure Wedge, were he 30 years and one wife younger. Iella was all he could ever want in a partner. That, and safety for her and their younger daughter, Myri. Syal, the elder Antilles' girl, was flying for the GA Navy - with Wedge's blessing. He refused to judge his family members for loyalty to either side in the conflict. Delpin, to her credit, was as honorable as she was competent. She'd been a great deal more gracious about Wedge's polite refusal to join her command staff than some of Gejjen's flunkies. "Wish they'd get on with the show. I know you want to get back to your family, and I didn't come for the akk and ronto show," Delpin said softly - carefully; one didn't know who was a spy in this crowd. "You and me both. Reminds me of Adumar ... of course, there are fewer likely dueling candidates here. And the accents are mostly easier to understand," Wedge deadpanned. He actually liked most Adumari, even if it was backwards culturally - rampant personal dueling tended to lower Wedge's opinion of a place - That was when the spotlight landed on HIM, and the large central holoprojector came on, resolving into an image of a man about Wedge's age, with fair hair cut in a "high and tight" style reminiscent of an Imperial, wearing a Thrawn-esque white admiral's uniform. And a vicious scar, running down the left side of both of his lips. "Turr Phenirr," Wedge hissed, ignoring the aggrieved looks the comment got from some of the other delegates. Phenirr was an old thorn in Wedge's side from the Corellian's days leading Rogue Squadron for the New Republic. "Gentlebeings. I believe we have a traitor - or a *potential* traitor - among our Corellian delegates. Gejjen might be willing to play with the ex-leader of the infamous Rogues. Me ... I suppose I'm just another unrepentant Imperial holdover," Phenirr said, smirking as his holoimage seemed to stare at Wedge. "Tarfang. KILL - please." Wedge spun - as a black and white-striped snarling ball of fur leapt from table to table, waving a nasty vibroshiv in Wedge's general direction, and Delpin wisely backed away toward the frantic Commenorian delegates who'd warmly greeted her earlier. #So the little scumbag's double-dipping. Great,# Wedge thought, reaching for his blaster. That was when the front door exploded, and ... a *lightsaber* struck Tarfang's blade, knocking the would-be assassin back into a potted plant. Wedge looked at the source of the blade - and gasped. There was ANOTHER Ewok in the doorway - brown fur, Endorian hood ... and an outstretched paw, recalling the `saber. With a horror-struck Wes Janson holding a repeating blaster, Hobbie Klivian and Tycho Celchu behind him with drawn pistols. "EWOKS ... JEDI EWOK ... KILLER EWOK ..." Janson kept repeating - he was somewhat ... Ewok-phobic since a mission involving a stuffed Ewok used for psyops against the enemy. Wedge ran - he could laugh later - as Hobbie and Tycho laid down covering fire. "Our ride's this way - couldn't bring fighters, too much security! But we have an insurance policy on the way out!" Tycho said, clapping Wedge on the back as they ran. "Our furry friend?" Wedge asked, glancing back at the now-furious clash of lightsaber and vibroshiv between Tarfang and the ... Jedi Ewok ... in the hall. The Jedi Ewok slapped Tarfang silly and Force-pushed the treacherous killer back into the convention hall, darting after the Rogues as fast as his stubby feet would let him. THEN, the CorSec and other security forces arrived, and the air filled with blasterfire - which the Jedi Ewok batted back with scary accuracy - and there was a shuttle hooked to an airlock. "Daddy! Come on!" a young woman with a shock of colors in her hair, wearing a black pilot's jumpsuit and holding a grotesquely-large blaster cannon, waved - she sounded FAMILIAR - "MYRI!?" Wedge gasped - and he dropped at her wink, oh he KNEW that was trouble - The blast took out at least HALF of the oncoming attackers, flying well over the Ewok with the lightsaber, and Myri cackled a little scarily. "Syal can't get all the fun - c'mon! Mom's waiting!" Myri giggled, helping the traumatized Wes onboard as the Ewok caught up with the rest of the assault team - Wedge, Tycho and Hobbie found seats, and Iella grinned back at the party from the pilot's seat. "I'm never going to live this down," Wedge groaned as he leapt into the co-pilot's seat. The hatch sealed, and Iella blasted them away from the station as nearby space filled with Shrike fighters. Which suddenly found themselves in the sights of a garishly-red Star Destroyer, whose captain transmitted, "Shrikes, this is Captain Booster Terrik of the Errant Venture. I'm SURE you wouldn't want to upset my very important guests ... and the credits I'm gathering for relief of Corellians displaced from Coruscant?" The Shrikes pulled back, as Wedge asked, "Since when does BOOSTER do charity?" "Since he promised one-fifth of the proceeds to Myri's wedding fund," Iella said innocently - Wedge heard Wes wheeze, and looked over his shoulder - to find Myri cuddling the Ewok. Not so innocently. "What? Kettch and I are happy!" Myri insisted. "K - K - KETTCH!?" Wedge blurted, as the Ewok ... made a purring noise and played with his daughter's rainbow hair. "Yub-thckhub. YUB," the Ewok said, looking at Myri ... then winking at Wedge. "Gotcha. Kettchy IS a Jedi, but really, Daddy - I like my guys a LITTLE taller," Myri giggled, letting the Ewok leap up from her lap and strap in for the flight to the Errant Venture. Wedge sank his face into his hands, as Iella said, "We're invited to a gathering of old friends on Endor." THAT started Wes screaming. ---------------------------------------------- Coruscant: GAG HQ: ---------------------------------------------- Heol Girdun finished signing the last letter to a family who'd lost a son - or daughter - at the Jedi Temple. All right, so there'd only been two actual deaths. But the Arkanian prostheticians would be kept busy. And the bacta tanks were full. So, Girdun felt he owed people an explanation why 172 18- to 20-year-old soldiers were facing metallic limbs or replacement organs. Or coffins or cremation. He knew, emotionally, that the Jedi had been defending themselves - that setting the Temple ablaze had been wrong, had been a PR hit. But intellectually - LEGALLY - the Jedi were supposed to be supporting the Galactic Alliance. Especially now, when the war with the kriffing Confederacy was spreading farther and farther. There were even rumors of the Mandalorians getting involved in the copyright conflict between the Verpine and Kem Stor Ai. Mando trouble was just about the last thing the galaxy needed. Girdun had little patience for Jedi. Less sympathy. Even ... he finally admitted ... with his commanding officer. Jacen Solo had seriously karked up back at the Winking Hutt. Attacking a Jedi Master - one who had actually gotten along with cops, who'd volunteered her time at medical clinics, one who was ACKBAR'S NIECE - was just incredibly stupid. Nobody had really been surprised when the Jedi had fled. And that vornskr Serpa belonged in Kessel or floating in an Undercity sewer, not guarding kids. Ever since Dathomir, the colonel had been ... distant. He still relied on Girdun to handle the fine details of GAG work, but the byplay they had was gone. But Solo had been missing ever since the incident at the cantina, and worse, the rumors of what he'd done to Ben Skywalker were hurting morale. Girdun liked Ben. The kid was a little soft, but he was reliable, and he watched out for even the rougher members of squads. Ben was a Jedi Girdun respected. The fact that Solo and his cousin had vanished down an elevator the colonel hadn't told even Girdun about really - REALLY - worried Girdun. He wasn't a cop, like Shevu. Byss, Girdun didn't even like Shevu - he was too soft. But they did both care about Ben Skywalker. And if Shevu's new schedule seemed set up to keep him from seeing the boy ... well, Girdun might be able to check on the kid. Not as a favor to Shevu, of course. Or to that blind puppy Lekauf. Only for Ben. He checked his personal trump card - the midichlorian sensor prototype created by Intel under Dif Scaur, as a means of exposing Vong, or rogue Jedi, during the War - and swept the building. Of course, almost all sentients HAD midichlorians. The energy-producing organelles were a basic part of aerobic respiration. Jedi just had a shavitload more, though. It showed two in the combat center. Girdun arched an eyebrow, then got up and headed - casually - toward the elevator, riding down to the sublevel where the CC was housed. It was designed with a wide variety of combat scenarios, augmented by holotech, weapons and configurable droids. He keyed in his override code - he was Intel, of COURSE he had an override code even the colonel couldn't countermand - to the control booth, and slipped inside. And froze, as a shadow among shadows growled, "I THOUGHT I gave specific orders to be left alone." "Sir. I ... permission to speak freely?" Girdun asked - kriffit, he wasn't going to be put off, not even by whatever Jacen Solo had become. The colonel turned, his visage - unsettling. Solo was dressed in Guard black, but his cloak was fringed in some kind of gold script ... vaguely obscene, although Girdun couldn't understand why he felt that way. The colonel's lightsaber was gold and black, but it was his face which was the most disturbing: Grey. Unnaturally grey for a 31-year-old, with yellow-orange eyes the color of burning Nal Hutta swamp gas. "Granted, Girdun. I'm sorry ... I've been busy supervising my cousin's latest training. He ... might be a bit of a shock to see, but it was ... necessary. You understand," the colonel ... rasped. It was like a corpse animated by something INSIDE it, Girdun realized, shuddering. He managed to keep his composure, glancing down at the scene below ... and suddenly gasped. Someone - lithe, *flickering*, and ... flesh-colored, or so Girdun thought - was ... dancing wasn't quite the right term. With THREE YVH battle droids. The expensive kind. The skull-faced death machines were thug-bots, pure and simple, with missile launchers, blaster-hands and armor rivalling starship plate. And the ... trainee was SHREDDING the machines. *Bare-handed.* Synthetic hamstrings were cut by a backspin of a foot, some kind of bonespike talon on its heel. Claws similar to a Togorian shattered optic sensors, allowing the hands attached to the lethal cutting instruments to reach in and pull out vital circuitry. Blaster bolts didn't leave burn trails when they - rarely, frightfully rarely - skimmed - flesh? A clenched fist rotated one of the droids to blast its sibling, while the trainee's other hand arced blue lightning into the third - and a handclap slammed the single remaining droid into scrap. Finally, the trainee resolved - sort of - in Girdun's sight ... because the trainee's *flesh kept changing colors.* "Falleen?" Girdun wondered - no, the being was resolving ... into ... A disturbingly familiar - naked - teenaged boy. Girdun made a small, horrified gagging noise, and glanced at Solo - who was grinning. Sickeningly. "Remarkable, Ben. Really, really remarkable. Come here before you get cleaned up," Solo said into the com, that croak of a voice shaking Girdun's guts. "Sir ... what the KRIFF - Sithspawn, why is he -" Girdun rasped, all those sick accusations of Shevu's starting to make horrible sense - Solo's expression became ... somehow WORSE, as he replied, "I am not what Shevu believes, Girdun. And my cousin is not - in a sense - naked. You'll see in a moment." The hatch opened, allowing ... Ben ... to walk in, and he saluted Girdun with a polite expression, adding, "Sir." "Lieutenant ... are you ... feeling well?" Girdun asked, finally letting his gaze take in the boy. Ben was ... bare. Not just of clothing either. His red eyebrows and scalp hair were the thinnest fuzz, as if he'd been surgically shaved a day before. And given the fine scars covering the boy's ribs, hips, forearms, shins and scalp, Girdun was pretty sure the boy HAD been completely shaved. He didn't dare ask what procedures had been done. The most disturbing thing was the pouch of flesh at the boy's groin, covering ... only what needed to be covered. "Bioimplant, designed to allow for long-term field operations without having to take time for excretion. It's gene-coded to the lieutenant's DNA, preventing rejection. And his epidermis has been enhanced with chromatophores similar to those of a Falleen," Solo said, nodding at the boy, who leaned against the wall. And turned the color of the black transparisteel, all but vanishing from sight. Even Ben's dusting of red hair was hard to make out. The pair of blue eyes in what appeared to be empty space were a little troubling, though - and Girdun SWORE he saw agony in them. #Nobody deserves this. Especially not one of our own - not a kid,# Girdun thought, fighting down the desire to howl at Solo until Ben reappeared, then knelt, looking up at the colonel. "Did I please you, Master?" Ben said - wait, MASTER? "Extremely, my servant. I deem you ready for your final test ..." Solo ... purred. And he drew his garish gold and black lightsaber, lighting it - the RED blade painting Ben's skin the color of blood. "SIR!?" Girdun almost - his voice rose a few octaves, but he felt a lit SITH weapon was cause enough - as the tip of the crimson lightsaber hovered over Ben's left, then right, shoulder. "Henceforth, you shall be known as ..." Solo paused. "DARTH PAXIS." The blade winked out, and Ben rose - still with blue eyes, still ... a kid who should've been wearing something. Still a kid who looked ... dutiful, but radiated terror. Girdun normally wasn't sappy, but he would've hugged the poor kid if he'd thought Solo wouldn't kill him. "Girdun. Arrange for Lord Paxis - Lieutenant Skywalker to the rank and file, at least for a little longer - to have a shuttle to Vulpter within the hour. Shevu and Lekauf will accompany my apprentice, to help ... take care ... of Gejjen. They will handle getting the evidence we need to end the treasonous reign of Cal Omas ..." Solo said, sounding ... ecstatic, handing Ben another lightsaber. "And we shall be one step closer to ... peace." With that, Solo - Darth Caedus, Lekauf had whispered at lunch - whirled out of the room, leaving Girdun with about 55 kilos of ... not quite clad teenaged Sith Lord. "Sir?" Ben - Paxis? - asked - and Girdun leaned against a chair, panting in relief and revulsion. "Ben - if you need - kriff, what did he DO to you?" Girdun whispered - the light was back in Ben's eyes, maybe the kid wasn't - The boy managed a weak smile and said - sincerely, volumes of meaning in the phrasing and tone: "Only what I needed, sir. Excuse me, please?" Girdun reluctantly nodded, and with that, the boy saluted, walking out with just his new lightsaber. And Girdun grabbed his comlink. "Admiral Niathal. NOW," he barked at his XO, Zavirk. Even a man who'd clapped for Ailyn Vel's death had limits. -------------------------------------------------- Endor: -------------------------------------------------- She breathed in the woody, organic scents of the forest moon, stretching - the flight out had taken the better part of a day, pushing the Shadow's hyperdrive. Betsy had, perhaps unsurprisingly, made the almost pilgrimage trip to Endor shortly after arriving in this galaxy. Part of her, as a Padawan and original trilogy fan, had just wanted to experience the actual site of the Rebellion's arguably greatest victory. Granted, Palpatine had come back. And the Sith had returned. But the Rebels had still won - She quaked, as the Force ... shook - Something was disturbing the Force, horribly - whatever had tipped the scale with Lumiya's long-overdue death had been balanced. In the wrong direction. And Ben was back in the Force, but in AGONY - determined, but heartsick, and lonely. Worse, he wasn't responding to Force-calls ... Mara shared Betsy's sick look, as the rest of the Jedi Council gathered around Cilghal's hover-chair - the Mon Cal healer was doing far better, thanks to the leftover medtech at the GA observation post here, but she still needed rest. "Something's happened - the dark side's spiking," Corran Horn said, shaking his head even as he waved with relief at where his now-adult children, Valin and Jysella, helped set up shelters for the Padawans evacuated from Ossus. "I refuse to believe it's centered around Ben. He saved all of us, both on Coruscant and Ossus - he saved me from Jacen, at the risk of his own life. You can all feel him - he's in pain, but not dark. At least not yet," Cilghal argued. "And we're just supposed to let him continue ... what, toward the dark? If we ARE supposed to be deciding for the best possible outcome for the Order, how can we sit here and allow one of our most powerful Padawans to fall to the dark side?! ESPECIALLY after losing our Temples?!" Kyp Durron demanded. "Luke said he'd bring Ben home. If we interfere ... Betsy, you're the strongest precog among us, the most reliable in your prophecies. I can't claim objectivity, but you -" Mara asked, warring pleas in her eyes. Betsy felt her friend's heart ache - the mother in Mara screamed to tear across the galaxy and bring Ben home. The wife wanted to give Luke a chance to do the same. The Jedi Master and the Emperor's Hand were deadlocked - Mara wanted to do the best for the Order, but she needed ACTION. Betsy sank into a meditative cross-legged pose, thumbs to pointer fingers, and closed her eyes, letting the Force sweep over her. *Jacen, brutally struck from behind - the Senate in FLAMES* *Something tall, grey and unnaturally agile, holding a red blade over Luke as Ben - bare? - dangled from its claw* *Red and black and savage, crimson bars sweeping across the galaxy* "SITH!" Betsy - screamed - She leapt to her feet - whatever was coming - "Bloody HELL, we have to SAVE JACEN!" Betsy gasped, the Council stunned silent for a moment. She still couldn't quite believe it. Part of her felt she was betraying Ben by even suggesting it. But it was too late - Vulpter was its own vergence in the Force. "Mara, forgive me, but we have to return to Coruscant - somehow, some way, Jacen needs to be saved. Perhaps not from the dark side, yet, but we need to keep him alive," Betsy said, taking Mara's hands in hers. Mara's lip twitched - visions of skinning knives and rancors filled her conscious mind, but ... "All right. And ... Vulpter?" she asked. "I'm sorry. You and I are needed at the Senate. If there were any other way ... Ben ..." Betsy trailed off. Mara just hugged her friend, then said, "He has Luke." "But I'm not above adding a floater to the sabaac deck." ---------------------------------------------------- Coruscant: Galactic City: Private Apartments of Jacen Solo: ---------------------------------------------------- There were tales from Alderaanian folklore that ancient Force-adepts would consult the guts of freshly-killed nerfs for hints of the future. Caedus wasn't above bloodletting, but he did have a thing for keeping the carpets clean. And explaining dead nerf to the landlord, even with mind tricks, was SO beneath the Dark Lord of the Sith. On the other hand, GAG bodybags left precious few leaks, so having his YVH bodyguard droids haul Lumiya's corpse into the day room didn't bother him too much. He unzipped the bag, ignoring the smell - Vongtech produced enough organic stench to desensitize anyone - and lifted the head of Shira Brie with honest lament. "Ah, Lumiya. My little brother - or the excuse that passes for him - was at least competent, wasn't he? I'll make sure you get a decent Sith interment somewhere," Caedus promised. He might have had issues with Lumiya, but she'd set him on his present course. And now that Darth Paxis was knighted ... A ripple of danger rang from Lumiya's left arm, and Caedus set her head back in the bag before it could drip. He Force-pulled the access panel of the arm open ... and found a datachip inside. It was a holochip, not part of the cyborg's operating matrix. "Whatever are you, little one?" Caedus asked rhetorically, placing the chip in a player. It activated automatically, showing some kind of hooded humanoid face, the eyes hidden but a masculine jaw visible in the poor light of the holocam that had recorded it. "Our apologies for the brevity of your journey. Had we foreseen the speed of the invaders' advance, we would have sent a more sizable escort. Should you survive and care to reach us on your own, the navigation string attached to this message will guide you ... ONCE," a male voice said. It winked out, leaving Caedus with a wealth of questions. Lumiya had hinted at Korriban and Ziost holding more than just Sith ruins - she'd asked him not to turn them into speeder lots ... "But certainly she wouldn't allow ... wouldn't SUPPORT ..." Caedus whispered - It was heresy of the foulest kind to a Sith. Worse, it would leach the dark side of power. And he'd sent Darth Paxis to attempt the extermination of Corellia's prime minister ... A barely-tested Sith apprentice, alone with only two very human and soft soldiers. "No. Not even Lumiya would defy the Rule of Two," Caedus said, zipping up the bodybag. What was left of Jacen Solo still worried for his little cousin, though. Deeply. ---------------------------------------------- Senatorial Apartments, 500 Republica: ---------------------------------------------- Lady Agroneli D'Althaud was used to ... unusual requests from her Queen Mother. Tenel Ka was a Jedi, after all, the Hapan Senator understood. But unlike those savages on the Heritage Council, the half-Dathomiri queen had the Consortium's best interests at heart. Agroneli believed that, so she overlooked her queen's quirks. Still, the surreptitious visit by the Queen Mother was a bit ... surprising, even by D'Althaud loyalist standards. As was Her Majesty's requested visitor. "My thanks, Lady Agroneli. Has the delegate arrived?" Tenel Ka - the Chume'da was elsewhere, safe, Her Majesty had assured her - said, sitting in full Dathomiri warrior garb in the day room. "Yes, Your Majesty. But while I respect the Senator from Naboo, he is ... considered rather fringe, especially in these times when the supermajority turns to the GA Armed Services for reassurance," the Senator replied, as the guards allowed the visitor in. "I have every expectation that you will work together, Agroneli. All our fates may depend on the votes you bring to the Senator's petition - the Consortium, the Alliance, even the Confederacy. This vote MUST pass, or war is nigh," Her Majesty insisted, giving the visitor a polite nod when he bowed. Well, for a male, he WAS polite, Agroneli supposed. "Yousa summoned mesa, Your Majestyness?" the Naboo Senator said, taking a seat and accepting a cup of tea from one of the male servants. "Senator Binks, We have reviewed your call for a vote of no confidence in the military leadership of Colonel Jacen Solo," Her Majesty said - the subtle pang of heartbreak in her tone barely evident to Agroneli. "The Hapes Consortium is prepared to support you - much as your esteemed former colleague ... Colonel Solo's grandmother, Padme Amidala ... once did." ------------------------------------------------ Korriban: ------------------------------------------------ "You are sure?" the white-eyed overseer of the crypt - and of the training ground of the One Sith - asked, his baritone voice full of power and wariness. Dician, the technician/apprentice on duty at the watch station, nodded, her dark skin stitched with Sith tattoos. "The Skywalker heir left for Vulpter minutes ago. Given the short distance from Coruscant to Vulpter, and our intel on Omas' and Gejjen's movements, he must be en route to intercept their meeting," she said softly. "Agreed. The question is, WHY? He is a boy, and Caedus is a easily-fooled imbecile playing with Yuuzhan Vong technology. The child might be useful as a Hand, but never as a Dark Lord," one of the other elevated Acolytes - a shaved Togorian - asked, wariness in his tone. "True. But ... given the ... modifications ... to the boy, he may serve another purpose: Study, to assist the TRUE Dark Lord," the fourth member of the meeting - a horned Chagrian with red and black tattoos - said, accepting White-Eyes' bow. "There are precious few among the apprentices whom we could spare to intercept Skywalker. But ..." White-Eyes trailed off, at a surprising HISS. The stasis chamber had opened. "My Lord - !?" the Chagrian gasped, bowing - as did the others. NONE would ignore their Master. "A Skywalker. All but Vongformed," the Dark Lord said, deceptive softness in his tones. "Yes, Master. He travels with only two guards," the Chagrian said. "And naked. He refuses to bow to societal weakness, after surviving the Embrace and shaping. In a boy that age, such resilience is ... promising," the Master said. "Wyyrlok - my ship." "M-Master ... ?" Darth Wyyrlok asked - and White-Eyes met the Master's gaze. "We dare not send our white-eyed Guardian. And I am rested, fresh. Let this be a TRUE test of Sith fitness for `Darth Paxis,'" the Dark Lord ordered. "Also - summon Lady Shenbit to Coruscant. "CAEDUS DIES *SCREAMING.*" ------------------------------------------------ GAG Shuttle Arcblade: En route to Vulpter: ------------------------------------------------ He leaned against the wall, wearing only a weapons belt. He'd thought he could do this - could be strong enough to throw literally everything expected of him, of his beliefs, behind a mask. But Darth Paxis was a laughable, sobbing JOKE. #I'm running around naked - almost - a freak, sent to kill some jerk just because he tried to have Allana killed,# Ben thought, his shoulders heaving as he looked in the mirror of his private cabin. He'd been in constant, low-level pain since the surgery. He'd shaved his head again just to make sure the chameleon effect of his skin would be maximized - which was why he had to be naked. It was still humiliating, and that pouch over his groin was ... disturbing. If he'd begged off, all he'd suffered would be suspect in ... Caedus' ... eyes. Worse, the plan - what of it Ben had worked out - would be worthless, since someone else would be sent to get close to Gejjen. To KILL him. And Ben refused to let anyone else die for him - even - "I knew it," Ben heard - he'd been so lost in his agony and self-pity that he hadn't heard Shevu at the door. "Cap - Lon - I -" Ben stammered - Shevu wrote something on a datapad, smiling sadly: I know you can't talk freely. But Jori and I have your back. No matter what. And for once since his descent into hell, Ben Skywalker managed to hope he might make it out. Somehow. ------------------------------------------------ tbc ...