*


The vessel was extremely large, and the man sporting an Citadel icon on his chest watched slightly confused as the passengers boarded the craft. He felt a little fear as he was inside a quarantine zone.

The resilience of the biological terrors that still ravaged according to the daily holonet news bits made such areas necessary. Not so much for those sick but for those realized to be simply carriers or 'high risk'.

The people who boarded the craft were of a race he personally did not know and realized they were high risk.

"There they go to settle into another life," a grating voice came from behind and the man turned to find the old man grinning slightly.

"I was surprised to get your message. I thought for sure you'd be dead by now." the Citadel member mentioned with a confidence that the old man noted.

"So, settling into you new role. Gave up peddling bullshit for INS?"

"We create an enjoyable reality for people and they do not complain. As long as there is peace, security, good prices on products and good schools for their children, what do they care about things outside their sphere?"

"So you are saying people are inherently selfish?" the old man asked mischieveously.

The Citadel man laughed. "Maybe we are. But as a Citadel member we work to bury that imperfect tendency."

The old man grinned, "So you upgraded the bullshit?"

The familiar verbal stabs did nothing for the younger man as they might have years before. "What do you want? My time is not infinite."

The old man's eyes briefly flashed in anger at the abruptness of the younger man. His features softened and extended a hand to the scion of the Citadel. "You will make time for this."

The younger man smirked. "Don't threaten me old man. You are wanted by Kaine. I know this. With a snap of my fingers you'd be hauled before them."

A sneer formed on the old man's lips, "Do it!" he taunted. "And see that you won't be lying in a grave next to me."

"Because of that story you told me a few months ago? I think not."

"No." the old man answered softly. "Because of where you are."

And religious man suddenly began to look around realizing that he had come to the area unmonitored. What sort of access did this old man have?

"I arranged for this." the man rasped out as if reading the younger man's mind. "Any other time you would have been dead before coming here. There is no security like this on the whole of Coruscant save perhaps the protection surrounding the Imperial Palace. You will not find it on any database and you will not find a higher level of secrecy than here."


"Why? Relocation of 'high risk' settlers?" the younger man seemed to dismiss the idea.

The old man merely chuckled and took the other by the arm. "Come. It is our time to board."

"What?!" the Citadel man yelled. "I am not-"

"YOU WILL!" the old man hissed. "If you do not board then you will die. I guarantee it! We have entered past the point of no return."

"You got me in. You can get me..."

"It doesn't work like that. My clearance is no longer valid. It changes every five minutes randomly! Artificial intelligences cannot break into the programming because there are no reception terminals. There is no storage unit large enough to house sophisticated intelligences and as soon as that ship leaves, this entire area will be bathed in a particular radiation for 'sterilization purposes'. To breakdown any viral contamination that may possibly have mutated to an airborne carrier."

The threat of disease was enough to prompt the Citadel man to follow the old man into the waiting vessel behind the settlers entering.

The younger man could see that there was a small crew aboard helping the settlers get assigned to appropriate quarters.

"Starboard." the old man whispered to the Citadel man before the younger could choose port.

"Why not go.?." the younger man plainly wanted to move toward where some of the crew was ushering the boarders.

"That section is going to get blown away enroute. Follow me."

The younger man was confused but followed the old man as they made their way finally into a deserted corridor.

"We will enter here and remain quietly. The crew will not disturb us and we will not disturb them."

"Look.." the Citadel man said hotly.

"Quiet or you die!" the old man whispered harshly. "What I am going to show you no one has seen. And no one will ever see."

There was a sort of fear in the old man's eyes that seemed to finally register with the Citadel man.

"What-what are you going to show me?" he whispered.

The old man suddenly became calm, his eyes sharp.


"I will show you the true nature of evil."

~

Hanging.


That is what he remembered most about the experience.

Hanging by his wrists, bound against a wall in chains. Not knowing the goings on in the outside world and for once, he welcomed the oblivion.


After failing at what amounted to the greatest responsibility to his heart...

After failing at what amounted to the greatest responsibility to his mind...


There was nothing.



His uniform had gone dark with grime as his unwashed body began to stink with the sweat of pain and failure.


His mind had become unanchored and unfocused as eyes behind the window of bars from the door before him. Ever so often the steel shield would slide across revealing the bars and the quiet staring eyes.

Simon had stopped taking note (along with everything else).


*


Major Willam looked at his former Colonel and felt a stirring of emotion.


The end was close.


"Sometimes a reminder that the Empire is eternal needs to be impressed upon us.." he whispered.


The Empire of Palpatine was finished and he would waste no more time on it's dying carcass. It was time to take the resources of the old to forge the new.

A true New Order.

He stared at the pathetic figure of a man hanging by his wrists inside the room and knew that if he was successful, the boy would be one of the great architects of that Order.


Soon!

The crew was moving about herding the various aliens towards the various compartments along the port side of the vessel. From their vantage point the old man and the Citadel representative watched the rather typical actions of crew of what seemed to be a transport vessel.

The Citadel man considered opening his mouth to reveal their location but the eyes of the older man held a silent fear that made him hesitate. And so, his eyes began to move towards the ship itself and noticed something odd about the configuration.

It wasn't something that he could identify right away, just a feeling that something was...off.

When he whispered to the old man, he simply nodded and responded, "You will see.."

The Citadel man could see that the transport ship was comprised of several decks and that most (if not all) of the passenger quarters were located on the port side of the ship.

Along the corridors the armoured soldiers of the Empire moved to and fro as if on patrol. The passengers, it seemed, did not leave their quarters and when asked, the old man replied, "the rooms lock from the outside. They are trapped inside."

"But why? Surely they can call.."

"The rooms have no internal communications. Each of the rooms are constructed for a purpose."

"Enough ambiguity, old man. I have had.."

"Sweet Jedi on a stick, man! Doesn't this fucking Citadel teach it's members patience and how to shut the fuck up!!"

"I think the soldiers know we are here." the religious man added dryly.

"Of course they know! But money talks and if we don't make too much of a nuisance of ourselves we will be fine. But draw attention to us and we will share the fate of these passengers."

"How do you know something is going to happen?" the Citadel man asked reasonably. "How do you know something will strike us and that the port quarters will be blown into space? I know space travel can be hazardous and perhaps to relocate these 'high risk' people will provide some logistical problems but ..."

A soldier came walking up another on patrol, the second being more heavily armoured than the first. Dark Troopers? Spartans? Spartan II's? These were not typical stormtroopers! That much the Citadel man could see, his Intelligence training coming back to him.

"All quarters, all decks secured, sir." came the monotone report and the other merely inclined his head and moved over to an outside comm terminal.

"Bridge. This is command. Signal when we have come out of hyperspace."


The Citadel man was trying to figure out the math in his head. If the ship, upon leaving Corsucant, had made the jump to lightspeed, they could by halfway across the galaxy by now. Hell, they could be almost anywhere!

"Just where is this planet we are going?" He asked the old man perplexed.

Suddenly, the lighting on the ship turned to a blue hue.

"We've come out of hyperspace.." the old man whispered.


The heavily armoured soldier turned to his subordinate. "Confirm all secure."

The other spoke into a personal comm unit and after a few minutes replied, "All secure confirmed, Sir."

The heavily armoured soldier cast one last glance towards a nearby door of one of the passenger compartments. After a few seconds he turned back to the other, "Execute."

And a siren rang throughout the ship, a red light flashing over each compartment door.

A heavy clanging sound vibrated throughout the entire ship and the Citadel man looked about wildly. "Are we near an airlock?!" he nearly shouted above the humming and vibrating of the durasteel.

The old man looked over towards the rows of compartment doors, each with a flashing light spinning above. "You could say that.." he whispered and the Citadel man looked at him strangely as a the metal groaned as if a wind's howl was clawing its way throughout the ship.

Following his gaze towards the rows of doors the noise soon stopped and the red lights turned off.

Before he could comment, a series of metallic clangs rang through the corridor and the doors of the compartments opened.

The quarters were dark and empty.

The slight smokey cold of remaining vacuum whispered out of the compartments and the corridor suddenly chilled a few degrees.


The Citadel man's eyes widened in comprehension and his knees weakened.


"OH MY FUCKING GOD!"


The old man shot the other a disgusted look through narrowed eyes.


"There is no god here." he whispered.

"Do you believe that love is the greatest force in the galaxy?" the Major Willam asked a distraught and strangely defiant daughter of the late King Agreon.

Her eyes were a smoldering fire but she answered him without a quiver, "I believe those who are evil will be repaid in kind many times over..."

"Ahh...", Major Willam paced confidently around the former King's desk. "So you think me evil?"


Mya nodded stiffly.


"What about Kreen? He sabotaged Kaine's starships being constructed! Is he evil?" Willam asked pointedly.

"Those that conspire with ..." Mya began with a certain amount of conviction and bitterness at the thought of one of her own betraying their people.

Willam started to laugh, interrupting her. "Well, I wouldn't call it 'conspiring' exactly. I did ravage his wife and make his daughter my men's plaything. I had to beat the man until he had no more will power left... I had to show him sights he never in his entire little pathetic life would ever have imagined seeing... He did things he never imagined himself doing..." Willam's eyes fell on the king's daughter.

"In short, I broke him."

His eyes narrowed as he walked up to her, "Just as I plan on breaking your beloved Simon Kaine."

He could see her shivering under his steady gaze.


Fear.


The woman was reek with it!


"So, was Kreen evil?"


Mya lowered her eyes and shook her head.


"My, my..." Willam whispered in wonder. "Funny how what is evil changes when perceptions are altered." His hands parted, "Who knows, given time perhaps I won't be evil either?"


The woman did not answer much to his amusement.

The self righteous are always so predictable...


"Tell me, Mya is it? Tell me, Mya, if I gave you a chance to have Kaine freed, would you take it?"


He saw that he had gotten her attention when her eyes raised searching his for any sign of lying.


She hesitatingly nodded.


...and stupid!

The old man watched the Citadel man with interest. The religious man had his world turned upside down and now, reasons, justifications, excuses all! were spitting forth as the man's world tried to some how, some way, right itself. The man's eyes were scanning back and forth against the bare table they both were seated at while the old man gazed at the Coruscant traffic overhead with ease.

"Maybe the mechanism failed.." the former intelligence man when the other barked out a laugh that turned into a coughing fit.

"I think the mechanisms on that ship worked fine," and the religoius man looked on in disgust at the other's apparent lack of remorse.

"You act like I raped your daughter and then shot her," the old man remarked bluntly. "You know that the Empire executes those prisoners deemed worthy of execution. Capital punishment is everywhere. Even the Jedi carry it out. Aggressive Negotiations, I believe they call it or some bullshit like that."

"It just..." the Citadel man groped, "It just seems so callous."

The old man grinned sardonically, "Is there any good way to kill a person?"

The other man flinched at the old man's blunt speech.

A droid came up with their drinks and, as it left, the Citadel man took a deep gulp the likes of which the old man approved. "At least religion hasn't taken away your appreciation of a good drink," he rasped out.

"So, they were to be executed anyway. I suppose a burial in space is better than fanfare and shooting lines," he concluded. "Give them their dignity."

The old man's grin became feral but he did not comment on the conclusions drawn. Even when the other's eyes fell to him for some sort, any sort of validation.

Finally, releasing an amused chuckle, the old man spoke up, "Yes, they were all deemed extreme enemies of the state and legally executed. None of this wasting the taxpayers money to keep well fed criminals. There are debates in some of the democratic galactic governments about such punishments. They go back and forth and some have done away with such things altogether. Sometimes a criminal is rehabilitated, sometimes a criminal isn't."

The religious man sat back in surprise. "I am surprised to find you with such a philosophical attitude about this. Usually, you have an opinion one way or the other and damn all who think differently!"

The old man's chuckle became a sly smile, "You do not know my opinions because you do not know my goals. I have committed grievous acts to be sure, in my lifetime, and I have acted with such mercy that would stun a saint but it has always been for a goal."

The religious man perked up, "And that goal is?"

"In due time, faggot. In due time," the old man chuckled and gulped down his own drink.

The other's face reddened at the mocking remark.

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)


A chaotic mind.

Images, impressions, memories without form.

A simple thread.

A singular note.

That small anchor that the mind desperately holds onto.


(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)


The nuance of this singular sound calms the troubled mind.

A focus point of concentration.

The world fades away.

All that remains is the note.


(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)


The note is the world.

The note is the universe.

There is nothing more important than the note.

The note is total.


(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

(Drip)

...

...

...


Simon's voice yelled out, not in defiance, but in pain.


The pain of loss.


That note, that singular drip, had stopped and it's loss was almost unbearable to a mind driven on edge.


A new sound entered as the metal door to his cell clanked and squeeled in protest and Simon's eyes snap open.


The influx of stimuli flooding his hypersenstive mind caused him to grind his teeth as if a new pain had set upon him.


Mya stood before him and Major Willam, the traitor, stood behind her.



There was a burning defiance in his eyes that his unwashed and unshaven face could not hide.


A defiance that had been absent earlier, the Major noted.


"It is amazing," Willam started, "to know just what a person can identify with."


His voice was casual, conversational and not a little cheerful.


"From the beginning, you.." he stopped and smiled a self-depreciating smile, "..well ALL of us, really, identify with our family."


He suddenly pointed to Simon, bound by chains, hanging in his own filth, "You, though. You had your family ripped from you! Your father joined the rebels which set off a chain reaction that led to your mother's execution. Taken away to the farthest outpost the Empire could scrape up to settle their displaced forgotten, you identify with others only to have the Arcadian worms kill them, ripping them one by one from you. So you come back to the Empire and identify with an Imperial Soldier and join the Academy. Your fellow students are ripped from you again! Again, by your relentless pursuit of perfection, this relentless pursuit of excellence and soon distinguishes you at first from them but eventually divides you all. Your own academic achievements culminating in the Taron Test rip them away and you find yourself alone on graduation and sent to a lonely spot of the galaxy called Sotel.

And dammit, if you do not suddenly identify with them and you defeat your own father on that world! Your own father!

But the 256th even pass from you as most of them go off with Captain Chandler to get you what? Starships" Willam chuckled.. "And with the 256th now gone, you identify AGAIN!.. with a ruling family of this stupid world!"


Major Willam walked over and grabbed Simon's hair, staring at him with an incredulous look, "What did you think?

That if you married the King's daughter, you would be heir to this tin-pot kingdom? This stain on the galaxy? Were you going to build another Empire from these primates that do not even have hyperdrive technology?!"


He dropped Simon's head and motioned towards Mya. "Your woman slept with me, you know? She felt that if she did so, I would release you and you both could go to live a life of happiness somewhere else away ..."


His voice trailed off.


"..and then what?


Start a family? Something else to identify with again?


Until it is lost?"


The Major sighed.


"Ahh... Simon, Simon, Simon..."


His hand gestured into the air, "Tell me, Colonel, why do you think I did all this?"


Kaine's eyes focused, for the first time, on the Major and through parched and cracked lips he whispered, "Because you can..."


The Major smiled.


"Ah. To do things because I can implies that I do things without purpose. I, however, do have a purpose. Do you know what that purpose is?


No?


Why to educate you, my dear Simon Kaine. To educate you!"



Willam smiled.


"You see, all this time, all these defeats have been ripping into your soul, taking that very genius that you were hailed for in the Academy and, soon, there will be nothing left to take. You will be a young but broken, tattered man with nothing left to give, no light to blaze down against your enemies.


You do feel that, don't you?


Every time something you identify with is ripped from you, it takes much longer to come back from.


My attack not only overwhelmed you but it undermined you! You were defeated and despondent in this cell, this very cell not that long ago!


But you found strength to slowly come back in identifying with something as insignificant as a drop of water.


And there... There!...lies your problem, Colonel Kaine.


You identify with these small, insignificant little things that leave you devastated when lost! If this is going to happen with loss... and it will, you need to identify with something... more."



"You?" Kaine asked through whispered breath.


"Me? Hell no!"


Major Willam smiled,"That is Lesson Two. We still need to complete Lesson One."


The fire in Kaine's eyes suddenly went out and they drifted over to Mya, his mind running through memories with her as if put to ancient film but comforting nonetheless.


There was such anguish in her eyes for having done what she did but there was also a defiant spark that dared anyone's pity knowing her cause righteous.


"I forgive you.." he whispered to her and was content to see some of the anguish leave.


"I love you," she whispered back.


As if neither of the had spoken, Major Willam pulled out his sidearm and shot Mya in the head.


Her features went slack as death ended her suffering and Simon simply stared at her body in silence.


Willam went over and picked up Simon's head by the hair staring intently at Kaine as if trying to find some sort of display of weakness.


All he saw were Kaine's lifeless eyes. With a grunt of satisfaction, he released the Colonel's head and clapped his hands.


Several servants scrambled in and began removing the bindings that had held Kaine for too long. So rubbed raw was his skins that he began to bleed profusely with the bindings removed. Servants began shouting in panic for a medic and Major Willam just laughed at their situation.


"If he dies, you and your families die." the Major stated though the warning was unnecessary. They knew what sort of man the Major was in the brief few weeks they had come to know him.


"Tomorrow, Lesson Two."






~ Note: (Drip)(Drip)(Drip) a homage to classic Ahnk roleplays...

*


"But what is the point to all this?" the Citadel man remarked as he took another drink. "You seem to think that your efforts mean something. You yearn for some sort of recognition otherwise you would not be telling me the story of Simon Kaine."


The man looked to his elder companion, "But tell me, where, in all your study of me as a likely candidate for this information, did you once find that I would actually care? Unless you are interested in forgiveness and absolution?"


He paused at the thought, "Are you?"


The old man smiled grimly, nodding at the lack of interest the other displayed. "The Citadel, faggot, is a tool. Just like an Imperator Star Destroyer. Nothing more. While you think an omnipotent god is somehow bound by your opinion of what absolves someone or not of guilt, the truth of the matter is, absolution comes with a person coming to terms with their actions, placing them in context and deciding if he or she can live with themselves afterward."


The old man coughed once and turned a glare at his religious companion, "I have and I can."


The Citadel man raised his eyebrows though he wasn't all that surprised, "So, if not absolution, then salvation?"


"An Imperator can bring me all the salvation I need, faggot. Actually, belief in god really becomes immaterial when you are convinced that he will not do anything to interrupt your designs. And I am very convinced that if such a being exists, he is not acting to interrupt me. Therefore, he is irrelevant to me."


The Citadel man raised a finger, "Ahh... but just because you do not recognize actions as the works of God does not mean that they aren't."



"You're not hearing me, religious man. What I am saying is that it does not matter. For every good action you ascribe to your god, there are numerous evil acts that you dipshits apply to him as well. So what fucking difference does it make? You idiots cry out with joy when it rains believing that god sent it to you but when those same rains drown a child, you find that you dumbasses have jumped off the proverbial cliff because if god brought the rains, now you have to assume god wanted that child to die and you piss away any credibility you have when you make up shit like 'God wanted an angel in heaven'! I mean, shit! What the fuck is god going to do with a fucking child angel?! Don't you fuckers ever check to see if your shit makes any fucking sense before you put it on a holocard?"



"So you feel atheists have the right of it?" the Citadel man asked.


"Oh, don't get me wrong, you have those scientific dipshits that cry about the lack of empirical evidence of god and who use this as an excuse not to believe. But then you run into gods that do have empirical evidence such as the Azguard gods, the god of the Black Dragon Empire, Heir Raktus, but does this, in and of itself, make these scientific dipshits believe? Or, even better, just allow for the possibility that there may be a god?

Shit no! Because to even allow for the possibility of the existence of a divine being opens up another can of slimeworms their pride won't allow them to face. That of accountability. So the waffling idiots grab at straws to keep their atheism even in the face of such beings because empirical evidence allows for the measuring of a god. And measurements set forth limits. Minimum and maximum limits, a range now to gauge the strength, power, or limits of any particular god. So, now they refuse to believe because of these limits put forth by their own application of scientific of theory.

So, the more powerful religions (in terms of tangible power) lies with those professing belief in a diety that is invisible and cannot be measured. You cannot prove the existence empirically but neither can your god's nonexistence be disproved."



The Citadel man frowned and brought his question up again, "All you are saying is that people who consider the question of god's existence are fools. But, again I ask, what has that to do with my interest in the story of Simon Kaine?"


The old man raised an eyebrow, "Because faggot, small people allow themselves to be manipulated by situations, circumstances and their environment.

You believe in a god, so you allow your life to be led around by the nose according to the rules of the system that promotes your belief. Small people submit themselves to these varous systems that promote what either they've been raised to believe, been tricked or coerced into believing or just plain convince themselves to believe that they are willing to do the bidding of whoever controls the system.

You believe that god is love and that he forgives just about every transgression because you confess your dark deeds to one who controls the system. But then you believe that this same god burns some abstract representation of people in hell. You believe in god's commandments not to kill but you allow those in control of the system to dabble in politics and you find yourself supporting wholesale slaughter."


"I do not!" retorted the Citadel man.


"Do you or do you not support our troops?" the old man asked pointedly.


The Citadel man paused and in that pause, the old man grinned sardonically. "You see? You allow your religious beliefs to differ from even your own religious convictions and those of your fucking god! in favor of political considerations."



"But the Citadel is the only officially recognized religion in the Empire," the younger man shot back.


"Exactly," the old man replied with some emotion. "Your fucking religion is nothing more than a tool for those in control of the system to achieve political ends. If you really, really believed that man and alien should not kill each other or themselves, then the Imperial recruitment offices would be empty wouldn't they? But no, you allow our politics to polarize your fucking religious beliefs and no one wants to be caught dead not supporting the troops so you all bang your hands on the pulpit to fill our military ranks and we go off and do what we do best. Conquer."


"But," the Citadel man started, trying to rally.


"The point is that there are overlapping systems of control that are accessible to only those men great enough to seize them. A man may gain temporary popularity by being recognized as achieving something within the system but it is only those men who seize control of the system who become truly great."


"So you are saying that Simon Kaine is trying to make his name great?"


"I am saying, faggot, that Simon Kaine knows how to achieve true control. That is why he's created the organizations and programs that he has because he knows that there are always going to be whole populations of people who submit. Coalitionists and those Republic-loving dupes believe their greatness rests with the small people. So much so that the foundation of their government sits upon pillars of small people who do not matter....who are going to live and die according to a system that they do not understand that they are supposed to support. The Empire does not rely on their support, merely their obedience."


"And you think that has been accomplished?"


"Better than Palpatine ever could. Our great fucking first Emperor took control of the system but then allowed his paranoid inadequacies rule his good sense."


The Citadel man sighed and sounded dismissive, "Other than using this as yet another opportunity to tear down my belief, why should I care about Simon Kaine's past?"


The old man shrugged, "Well, given that you are only a tool for his bid of control, aren't you curious about what is going to happen to you and your precious Citadel after he retires?"


"WHAT??" the Citadel man sat up straight. "What, what? What is this? The Supreme Commander is retiring?"


"I know," the old man said darkly. "I don't know what is going on either. I thought I had taught him better than that!"

*


This is the story of five.


One.


Simon Kaine did not recognize the man in the reflection. A polished piece of metal was all Major Willam would allow his prisoner for fear that Kaine would find ill purpose with mirror shards.


But he was allowed to see his reflection.It was a simple freedom granted but one that Simon did not understand.


What education warranted the losses to himself, the Agreon family and the Aridians in general?


Furthermore, what lessons could Willam teach other than in how to be a sadistic bastard?


But he was too tired, too abused to reflect on the nature of his captor.


And, quite frankly, he did not care all that much.


And so, hanging there with his arms tied behind his back, he met One.


Or, rather, it was a small boy with the number one stitched into his garments.The boy did not speak and Simon could not, in the beginning, discern the boy's real name and so simply called him One. This seemed to please the boy and Simon soon found out that the boy's responsibility was to bring food and water to him and remove the prisoner's wastes.


After Mya's death, Major Willam had strung Simon back up, content to leave him hanging for extended periods of time.


The boy arrived three times a day, the same time each day and fed Simon since the prisoner could not feed himself. But, it was three times a day that Simon had potential contact with the outside world. The fact that the boy brought no messages signified three things:

Simon had no more supporters on the outside.

Simon had supporters but they did not know he was alive.

Simon had supporters, they knew he was alive and tried to send messages but the boy was searched.


All in all, it was not good odds to plan anything by but it was all Simon had.


Try as he might, however, he could just not communicate any type of intention with the child and Kaine's inability to gesture hampered those attempts. His frantic, often-times demanding requests of the boy were met with fright and the boy left as quickly as he came.


Kaine's screams of frustration echoed through the corridors each night until he simply slipped back into despondency.But One kept coming by. Three times a day.


And it was this habit that, despite his ill manner, kept Kaine's interest and mind alive.


And so, slowly, he came out of his self-imposed shell and directed his entire focus on those three visits, all other considerations pushed away.


After a few days of simply observing the boy's actions, assessing him, he began to see that the boy was in the very same situation he was.


With so much heartless use from his captors, Simon began to praise the boy for things done well. That went on for a few visits, Simon simply praising the boy and asking nothing back in return. And that...that...was the first breakthrough in communication between One and Kaine.


Simon began to find his food tasting better noting that the boy was taking it upon himself to initiate small yet positive gestures in Kaine's behalf. These too earned words of praise and soon, in an existence dominated by evil there were smiles in Kaine's prison three times a day.


Simon began to look forward to those times as much as One did for his captors, nor Major Willam, deigned to come by. It was almost as if Simon Kaine was forgotten if not for One's daily visits.


The companionship and close association brought forth from within Simon feelings he thought toally driven from his spirit by Willam's torture.He and One, two souls intertwined in this maze of evil and he began to realize that unless something was done, things could not continue as they were forever.


He also realized that there was a part of him that did not want this circumstance to change for he had found comfort even in this hellish existence and, if he let his heart take over, he knew that if threatened with the discontinuing of One's presence he would probably agree to anything.


But his mind knew that this was a situation neither he nor One had any control over. Eventually, Willam would remember Simon and prevent One from coming altogether just to stick yet another needle through Kaine.


Kaine felt a kinship with One, reminding the Colonel of his own youth back in Arcadia, when he was living hand to mouth. He remembered his boyhood friend killed by the Chiss pirate. A boyhood friend that One somewhat resembled. And so, he began to tell One stories of his own life and found that One's visits slowly began to lengthen.


It was during one of these visits, when Kaine was describing a battle that he inadvertently complained that if he only had his hands free, he could show One what something looked like when the One walked over and pushed a button deactivating the bonds that held Simon.


He dropped to the ground and, though in pain, continued his story for he was as caught up in it as the One was.When One left that night, Kaine sincerely thanked him for his release from the bonds and for the first time, he was able to shake the boy's hand.


One left proud that night and Simon felt better than he had in a while.The next morning, Kaine looked out the small window of his prison for the first time. He saw that the view spread across the old King's Guard Compound and in the center, displayed on an upright pole was the corpse of One.


Simon cried that day and did not eat any of the food shoved through a slot at the bottom of his door.


A powerful guilt seemed to cloak Kaine and as he sat on the cell bed, in the far recesses of his mind, he realized that his captors did not demand the return of his bonds.




Two.



Simon Kaine did not recognize the man in the reflection. A polished piece of metal was all Major Willam would allow his prisoner for fear that Kaine would find ill purpose with mirror shards.


But he was allowed to see his reflection.


It was a simple freedom granted and, while one that Simon did not understand, he began to realize there was some sort of rule at play here.


This was when another boy entered his cell with a number two stitched into his garment.


Simon suspiciously ate the food in silence and the boy, also in silence, came and went. And, as before, Two would appear three times a day with more food and water.


And, as before, Kaine's need for companionship seemed to errode his internal walls and he began to strike up a relationship with Two in the same manner as One for Two could not speak either.


Simon was determined, though, to make sure that he not make the same mistake as he hand with One. He could not let his emotions overrun his
internal nature of caution for, it seemed, even speaking without thought could kill.


The food that Two brought did not improve as it had with One for Two was different as Simon found out. Two liked to make things with his hands and Simon's window was soon displaying various sorts of clay animals of Two's creation. Kaine figured that One grew up more around a mother whereas Two was used to the company of his father. During the idle time between Two's visits, Kaine would often wonder how different his life might have been had his father not joined the Rebellion leaving Mother and Son on Coruscant with Palpatine's machinations.


As with One, Two's visits seemed to lengthen and Kaine allowed the boy to teach him how to make and mold clay into shapes. While Two was not a master at the skill by any definition of the term, Kaine was (strangely) thoroughly satisfied with the instruction of the boy. He even practiced between visits and found it helped him concentrate on the task at hand.


But he made sure that he never asked the boy for anything not wanting to upset his captors.


It was during one of his practices with shaping the clay into a figure that the boy had already made and was sitting in the window when he made a startling discovery. He picked up the boy's figure to examine it closer and found the dry, hard clay brittle. The figure broke but before Simon could get upset about it, he found that there was a sliver of metal inside the figure. Further investigation of the other pieces also revealed similar pieces and he realized that the boy used these pieces as the 'skeleton' to mold the clay around.


He figured that he would not tell Two of his discovery for he did not want the boy to be implicated in anything. With this secret knowledge, he began to enjoy Two's visits more all the while, at night, using the metal slivers to poke into the metal panels making up the wall of his cell. It was not so much to escape but to find the cell facilities. The bed slab seemed to extend out of the wall and so, he felt it only reasonable to assume, waste facilities would as well. Finding them would remove the need for Two to replace his bucket and would also improve his standard of existence considerably.


And, on one such night, he found a locking mechanism and deactivated it giving him instant access to the cell refresher. Running water and plumbing for waste removal improved Simon's spirits heartily and he used the water to wash not only his clothes but his body feeling for the first time in a while halfway human.


The next morning, Kaine looked out the small window of his prison scattering the broken pieces of Two's figures that he had broken. And has he looked across the King's Guard compound he saw, in the center next to the corpse of One, Two, impaled on an upright pole.


"He didn't do anything!!" shouted Kaine as he beat his fists against the wall of his cell until they bled.


It was as if his cloak of guilt wrapped tighter to warm a body and mind in shock. And in that shock, somewhere in his mind, he found that his captors allowed the refresher to remain.


Three.



Simon Kaine did not recognize the man in the reflection. A polished piece of metal was all Major Willam would allow his prisoner for fear that Kaine would find ill purpose with mirror shards.


But he was allowed to see his reflection.


It was a simple freedom granted and one that Simon began to see had strings attached.


And, in time, another young one appeared to give him his food and water. A girl with the number three stitched on her clothes.


Simon's eyes widened in horror when he saw her the first time knowing that just outside his window were the bodies of One and Two.


"You son of a bitch, Willam," Simon whispered to himself and he began to practically shout at the girl telling her to leave the food and go.


"My name is not girl! They call me Three! And you are rude!" the girl cried out and left. Kaine was speechless with shock for she could speak!


However, shocked as he was, Simon still refused to speak to Three during the first week not knowing if her speaking to him would sign her death warrant or not. After the second or third visit, she began speaking of her own accord as young girls are want to do. First, it was almost mindless chatter about other kids her own age. Then, it was about her parents whom she saw little of and then it was about different things going on outside the prison. After a few days of her chatter, Kaine came to realize that she was not being put to death.


And so, slowly, he began to interject a harmless comment here and there and she merely continued with her story of the day. A mind of insatiable curiosity started to intrude and Simon's comments became questions though he was careful to keep those questions as neutral as possible.


And it was during these sessions that he learned that the guards would sometimes let the girl come alone to bring Simon his food and water.


"They say you are broke," the girl explained and Kaine nodded grimly.


"They would," he whispered. And why not? Major Willam had destroyed everything he had loved. I am not a threat.


From Three he learned that the other side of his cell door was not a hallway or corridor but yet another, larger room. Three told him there were computers and droids and said the room was for doctors.


It was then that Kaine realized that he was in the medical wing of the old King's compound. He had been confused by the prison cell overlooking the guards barracks because he did not remember prisons being there. But the medical cell was different in that it was not for prisoners but those sick. Willam had stuck him in a room for those mentally challenged.


In any event, Kaine knew that where there were doctor's there were allies for Major Willam did not have doctors nor did men like him consider doctors a threat.


He knew that even if the doctors could not help themselves, they could direct them to any of the King's old staff to get himself and Three out of the compound. He just needed to know when the guards were not accompanying Three.


She said she could whistle an Aridian folk song when the guards were not there so Kaine would know prior to her unlocking the door and they could escape. Willam's taste for killing children would end!


And it went like clockwork several days later.


He heard her whistling from behind the cell door and, when she opened it, he moved swiftly past her to the nearest doctor. Only, there were no doctors.



In fact, the room was deserted and he realized immediately that he was not escaping. The girl had not lied for there were the empty bacta tanks, discarded medical droids and computer terminals. It was a room for doctors. It just was no longer in use, probably since Willam's attack and the stale room seemed to deflate any hope that the King's regime had any functioning services active within the compound.


That was his last thought when the stun blast struck him.


When he awoke on the floor of the medical room, he walked slowly back into his cell and saw the corpse of Three, along side One and Two outside the cell window.


He found he was running out of tears to shed for the children as more weight was added to his already crushing guilt. It overshadowed his thoughts and he drew inward again.


Willam had said he was educating Simon and, with each child, it seemed no matter what Simon did or did not do, it doomed those who entered his presence.


Was that it?


Was the child's mortal sin one of simply being in his presence?


One had actively given aid and was killed. Two was ignorant of Kaine's actions and was still killed. Three. Three was to have escaped with him.


Her corpse was an almost lethal testament to that failed strategy and Simon felt tired.


Every surge of hope he felt stirring within him was extinguished with the death of each child.


He knew that each flare of hope was his mind refusing to surrender even as his body could take no more abuse. The tears he shed over the dead was a flaying of his soul for his hope made that pain so much more devastating.


Yet, with the reality of his captor's total dominance over him being reinforced with each child's life, he knew something had changed within him. He sensed a difference though it eluded his conscious thought.


He began to tinker with the computers and discarded droid parts and was able to get a working medical library operable and he would walk between his cell and the medical room listening to the machine voice as went over medical terms. Soon, he found that he thought of both rooms as a (his) single abode.


He also found that food was still being delivered by someone as he slept for he heard the medical room doors slide open and closed though he made no move towards the sounds, content to sleep in his cell. These visits were once a day, always at night and Kaine began to ration his food, keeping a small store preserved in a medical refrigeration unit. He was not sure why but it seemed the prudent thing to do.


Four.


Simon Kaine did not recognize the man in the reflection. A polished piece of metal was all Major Willam would allow his prisoner for fear that Kaine would find ill purpose with mirror shards.


But he was allowed to see his reflection.


It was a simple freedom granted and one that Simon began to see why.


As he began to exercise his tortured body according to a set of instructions found in the library, no solace came to mind but he did discover that his physical strength was improving.


It was then that Four entered the into his life. He had been listening to the relative effects certain medical compounds could have on each other when the door between the medical room and outside activated, sliding open.


An older child with dark hair entered with food with the number four stitched to his clothing.


It was a mixture of emotions that took hold of Simon as he battled irritation at the intrusion against the horror that his captor's games had resumed with the knowledge that, if he got to know Four, something would happen that would result in the boy's death.


So, Kaine came to a decision. He would not act with any attempt to escape nor would he allow Four to be any part of his life.


When Four left, Simon destroyed the door control panel knowing that Four would not be able to enter the room for the next meal.


Simon had rationed his food and so was content that what little he had saved would hold him for a while.


He ignored the noise on the other of the door when it was time for Four to return, increasing the volume of the medical reader reciting yet another chapter in the properties of medical chemicals.


Simon knew that he would eventually go hungry and probably starve but was content with the fact Four would not be a part of it.


He awoke the next day strangely content until he looked out into the courtyard and found Four's corpse hanging next to One, Two and Three's.


But there were no tears for Four.


For even as he hoped for a certain outcome, there was a pragmatic part of his mind that refused to be fooled and had accepted the fact that no matter what Kaine did or did not do, Four would die. And nothing would stop this equation until the variables changed. Until this seemingly self perpetuating situation was destroyed.


Those tearless eyes narrowed as his mind applied the situation to the Aridians. No matter what he did or did not do, they were finished.


Their brush against both the best and the worst of the burning embers of the Empire had destroyed them as a people and no action would change the fact that they were going to die unless this perpetuating situation changed.


What good were his actions if they did not have a meaningful purpose?


He found himself realizing that he had been reacting to circumstances rather than creating alternative situations to effect a more favorable outcome. He tried working within existing frameworks without working to redefine those frameworks.


He turned to the corpses and wondered if his life was really any different than theirs.


His family had been controlled by a situation perpetrated by Emperor Palpatine. He was, up to Sotel, merely a puppet playing on the stage of a Civil War not unlike the Clone Wars.


And when the Emperor and his government died? What did he do?


In his unshackled state, he expended resources and energy in searching for his masters. He had lived under their yoke for so long that he had felt naked, purposeless without it.


Instead of finding the Empire, he had found a different situation with the Aridians and he, again, allowed himself to fall under their spell. He released his hold on the power to shape his own destiny in favor of personal considerations and relationships. He released his power in favor of love.


His eyes began to harden.


Many lived, loved, and laughed in pure obliviousness. Many plotted, schemed and maneuvered without really realizing that they wielded no power over their destiny. They existed in their worlds ignorant of the power surrounding their destiny only to cry in anguish and pain when that power crushes their world.


Their sad, ignorant little world.


Small people living small lives.


Living and dying as the situation directs.


He continued to stare at the corpses.


Did their death have any meaning? Any worth?


Kaine's eyes burned with a fire of purpose for the answer had flared up within his mind lighting up new possibilities that had previously lay dark.



This is the story of Five.


Five.


Simon Kaine saw himself in the reflection. A polished piece of metal was all Major Willam would allow his prisoner but it was all Simon would need.


It was a simple freedom and one that Kaine would use.


It did not take long as Simon toiled working on yet another project to pass the time. In walked yet another child, a boy with light colored hair and, again, one who could not speak. If he had to guess, Simon believed that these children were what was left of those of the families making up the King's staff who cared for the compound. Perhaps shock made them speechless, perhaps it was a condition brought on by Willam and his cronies...In any event, it was a situation Simon would make good use of.


As with One and Two, he praised the boy for those deeds that earned such praise for it would not do to offer false praise. Children often could pick up on things like that and, as had happened before, he found himself becoming fast friends with Five. On the cycle went, three visits a day to bring food and each visit lasting longer than before.


Simon found the boy's smile infectious and soon was offering a wry grin or two as he and Five entered their own little world. It was as if they had erased the universe outside their world with it's cruelties and tortures. Simon was surprised by how quickly the boy picked up things as Kaine explained the internal workings of the medical droid he had taken apart. He found that Five was not as gifted with food preparation as One nor was he a shaper of clay like Two. No, Five was simply good company. He enthusiastically sat at Simon's feet as he talked about what he learned on the medical library computer.


Simon made sure he never spoke without thinking even as emotion took hold of him on the inside. Nor, did he try to pry outside his rooms in secret. He knew any move to escape would prove the end of Five as it had with Three and ignoring him was not an option as well. And so, Simon lived a life that was ever increasingly being boxed in. Five's bright curiosity stirred something inside the Imperial and he found himself actually enjoying his life.


There was a festiveness in the air as the calendar marked the passage into winter and as an Aridian holiday came up, Five surprised Simon with a gift. It was a ribbon indicating First Place and, upon reading the back, Simon realized that the boy must have won it at his school a year or two ago. Long before the horrors of Willam were visited upon the world. The Imperial returned the favor by presenting the boy with a small jacket made from the remains of medical suits and lab coats. There were many pockets that the boy could not wait to try as soon as he left.


Before leaving, Five stopped and hugged the Imperial and Simon knew he had a friend that would follow him into hell and back.


"I love you, Seethan," he whispered to the boy, recalling the name on the back of the ribbon.


And that was the story of Five.



*


What is it to sum of a life?


As Simon Kaine watched the door close he found himself thinking about the type of man Five might become if given a chance. What sort of man would he had been had he been given a chance? If his father had not joined the Rebellion? If his grandfather had not been a Senator and in Palpatine's sights?


Ultimately, such thoughts were irrelevant because people become who they are through the hand that life deals them.


He found the thought comforting as he disrobed and put on the last remaining medical environmental suit. He checked the air tank capacity one last time before sitting down, content to wait the required amount of time.


As he sat down, the pain of the last few months in captivity came back to memory and he took stock of all the relationships ripped from him...


Of a mother and friends long dead...


Of classmates he would never see again...


The loyalty of his men, the love of the Aridians...


Of King Agreon and his family...


Of Mya...


Was this the sum of his life?


Were these the things that would give it value and for what he would be remembered by?


Or was life only as valuable as the environment around it allowed?


This was the Lesson of Five.

End




Two hours later he stood up, walked over to the door and touched a panel.


The door slid open.


Five had neglected to touch the locking mechanism when he left, so wrapped up in emotion after Simon had whispered to him.


There were no guards.


Simon slowly made his way through the corridors of the building trying to recall the layout of the old King's compound, taking care no to disturb any of the bodies found along the way.


Most were Willam's men, those Aridian supporters who profited from the King's downfall and from the Major's style of leadership, while others were slaves impressed against their will.

The now dead bodies told Simon that they did not all go peacefully.


The buildings of the King's compound were arrayed around a central point and as Simon entered the complex control room, he saw the bodies of those in charge. Not one of them was Major Willam.

There was regret in that but Willam had stopped visiting Kaine long before One ever showed up so it was a one in a million shot at catching his nemesis. As he carefully walked past consoles and computers, he found the station he was looking for and gently switched on the activation toggles. Soon the vents would be sterilized and the air cleaned.

As the machinery did its work, Simon found the body of Five between two fallen guards. From their positions, he saw that Five had tried to fight against the guard's attempt to remove his new jacket and, in doing so, disturbed the cultered bacteria packets that were inlaid within.

The food he had been preserving in the refrigeration unit had been an excellent breeding ground for bacteria and, with a few chemical enhancements found in the medical room, the ingredients for a highly lethal chemical pathogen were born.

By introducing the jacket to Five, Kaine upset the balance by adding something new that was sure to capture the attention of his captors and while he could not be sure that the boy would be taken to whomever was in charge to found out why, he knew the boy would be taken somewhere and the pathogen released.

The Aridians did not use such weapons and so the King's compound had no defenses against such an attack. The unsuspecting inhabitants of the compound went about their activities oblivious until the pathogen overtook them. With the complex command center hit first, there was no one to direct any emergency efforts and no one to sound the alarm.

And as Kaine surveyed the logs he found that Willam's men were in negotiation with Captain Chandler and his fledgling navy. Simon felt a grin tugging at his tired lips for he had despaired of finding out anything regarding the results of Captain Chandler's mission to procure strike ships from one of the various Imperial warlords, good or bad.

Now, he had returned to find a different circumstance on Aridia and Kaine saw that both Chandler's forces and Willam's were at a standoff. But with those commanding the compound dead, there was no one leading those who had deposed the King and Willam was no where to be found! Willam's forces were beginning to flee their positions or surrender though where they expected to hide from a force not dependent on the Guildways was anyone's guess.

Those liberated from Willam's oppression took their revenge in a most horrible fashion but there was no preserving a system and a culture that had already been destroyed.


Simon Kaine allowed a celebration of their old system's passing by ordering a full honor burial for the Aridian King Agreon and his family.


And for Five.


For Five was the epicenter of Kaine's wrath and of his salvation.


After the search for Major Willam ended in disappointment, Kaine, Chandler and the rest of the 256th's command met to discuss the disposition of the Aridian Kingdom and their return to the Empire.


For Captain Ibren Chandler brought with him more than just ships. He brought news that an Imperial Remnant still lived and where it could be found.


Bastion.


And so, it was at this meeting that the foundation was laid.


Simon Kaine would build upon the Lesson of Five and seize an Empire.