In the Archives of the Jedi on Ossus is the tale of The House Of The Fall.

The House Of The Fall was like any other house. It was made of stone pillars supporting wooden beams. The beams were plated over with solid wooden sheets. The sheets were coated in a mixture of polyurethane and gravel, to prevent the water from touching the wood. The mixture was constantly touched by wood, both from behind, and in a breeze, from the outside.

The house is situated at the end of a long dirt road leading from the remnants of an old town. Not much of the town remains now; mostly abandoned for the underwater cities further in the opposite direction. Past the house, the lake. A small lake, barely worthy of the name, but water nonetheless.

The house is denoted on maps given to students of the old Jedi Temple on Theed, at least, when the temple is in operation. It is marked, along with the lake behind, as an area of the woods of Naboo that is better left unexplored.

No one is told why.

There are whispers, of course. Tales of murder. Tales of an Ancient Sith Lord who lives there. Allowed to, by treaty, to stay away from the cities. The young Jedi are often told that if they encroach upon their house in the woods, the Sith Lord is free to do with them as he or she will. Of course, such are only rumors.

The truth is something not altogether dissimilar from the rumor, though. But not even the truth tells the true story. For facts and records can record only the sequence of events. There is no library that can display, in full vibrancy, the horror of The House Of The Fall.

To truly understand The House Of The Fall, one must go there themselves.





There's something beautiful, miraculous between life and death. – Old Reincarnations Proverb





Three Years Ago

The sign stood ominously out from the brush, moderately obscured by the bend and sag of the tree branches around. The House Of The Fall, was what it said. Simple black lettering on a wooden sign, in the middle of the forest. Along the path, the rocky path, the man continued.

He stopped when his foot first touched wood. The edge of what had been the front patio of the house. From here, one stepped to access the door. The door would have been… yes, the door would have been right there. Pieces of the frame can still be seen…

There had been a house here, once. Now, all that remained was the fallen stone and broken wood, partially burnt, and entirely collapsed. A fire had started here and no one had been here to stop it. Who, what, why… didn’t really matter now. No one had been hurt. Nothing had been lost, except the house.

Of course, this was not just a house.

The man picked up a broken piece of wood and rolled it over in his hands. This had once been the top piece of the door frame. Now, it was just a piece of debris. He threw it in amongst the pile, to join the broken wood behind. He noticed then that his hand was shaking.

He looked down at his fingers, watching them pulse and jerk against his will. He was unable to steady them. He realized he was breathing very quickly; almost hyperventilating.

It was this place. This road. This valley. This house.

It was in that moment that he realized what must be done.

This house could not be allowed to sit here, an abandoned, destroyed pile of rubble. All that was destroyed must be rebuilt. All that was lost must be regained. Everything broken apart must be made whole again. The physical reality of that reconstruction… perhaps that would be what he needed. Maybe, in the reconstruction of this house, he could finally return to his home… accept his life again. Maybe, when he was finished, his hand would stop shaking.

And so it was decided. Before he left this world, he would rebuild The House Of The Fall.

There is an old saying: Though you can take the bear from the woods, you can’t take the woods from the bear. Whoever created this saying has obviously never tried to take a bear from the woods. – Old Joke






She hated flying.

She really did. She sat cross legged on the bed, hands on her knees, trying to channel the force to calm her, but it wasn’t working. Every vibration triggered a horrible image in her mind of a fiery explosion in the engine, of the cabin engulfed in flames, breaking apart into tiny hand sized pieces; little flaming meteors bound for parts unknown. The fire became a dull heat, and washed over her veins, warming her very soul, but it never went away. It faded, burned less intensely, but every bump, every shudder, erupted it again within her.

Of course, she knew she was safe. She traveled on reputable spacecharters through well mapped and well traveled routes. The chances of any sort of incident were minor in the extreme. Nevertheless, she feared.

She wasn’t supposed to fear. The Jedi way precluded fear. Emphasized calm and balance above all things else, but she did fear. To fear was natural. Overcoming fear took time… overcoming the ignorance that led to fear, took information, and personal experience. Only through facing fear, and understanding that fear is an overreaction to the natural ebb and flow of stress, can one learn to pass fear by.

Of course, when one was stressed, and tired, and alone, things were not so easy.

She had been on this flight for days now. Leaving the Borderlands, and her home on Obroa-skai, to head towards the core. That flight then turned, heading out here… back towards the Outer Rim. At the edge of the Mid Rim was her destination: Naboo, the new capital of the Jedi.

It had been less than a year since the combined forces of The New Republic, The Gungan Council, and The Jedi Order had chased The Naboo Sith Order from the world and established peace on the planet. The situation was still tense, but Leia Organa had made it clear through a New Republic address that The Jedi were no longer to be the hunted, but were now to be protectors of the galaxy again. She asked all those who felt the pull of the force to stop hiding and join her on the planet of Naboo to rebuild what had once been lost.

Andrea had considered the decision carefully. She had a son… a young son, with whom she was still bonding… but at the same time, she had… felt… something, for a long time…

She had felt a pain, in her self. In her body. In her gut. It was almost like… pain. But it was worse than pain. Worse then any indescribable eviscerating pain. Worse then losing your best friend in a pointless tragedy. Worse then the mental anguish of choosing between life, and limb.

The worst feeling is worse then all of those. Were you to experience them simultaneously, it may come close, but the prolonged agony wouldn’t even be comparable.

The worst feeling you can feel is waking up everyday, and feeling emptiness inside you. To not know your place in the universe. To not know if you are doing what is right, or merely wasting time.

In the end, pain is pain. Memories fade. And rehabilitation is a short-term process.

The inadequacy…

That pain, of never knowing and always underachieving, could last forever. She had felt it for years, inside of her.

It had waned when she had gotten pregnant. She had known that it was her goal to raise a child; to bring it into the world, to tutor it, to mentor it, to raise it to a boy.

But then the feeling returned. The hollowness. The emptiness inside.

She had thought that the failure of her marriage had consumed her. Her husband, Micheal Rashanagok, was an alcoholic, a gambler, and chaser of other women. She knew the two sides of the man; the devoted father, and the horrible husband. Micheal did not drink and philander when he was with his son, only when he was alone. When Andrea and her boy were together, Micheal was left to his vices.

She had watched those vices tear into him. Make him a different person. A person she no longer loved.

He was still a good father; even for his all his faults, he was a man who took responsibility. That was why, when they separated, she felt no hesitation to leave her son with him for extended periods of time. When he was with his son, Micheal buried the darkness and became… a man. A man she was proud of. The man she had loved.

If he could be that way all the time… she would have never left. But he couldn’t, and so she had. Micheal accepted her criticisms, and the two split amicably, agreeing that to fight and drag things out would only hurt their son.

With her life in her hands, though, she’d grown restless. She felt the stirring, lingering doubts again. Wondering what is was that she was meant to be…

When she watched Leia’s lips move, and tell the tale of a Jedi Order, reborn, she knew that that was to be her path in life. So she plotted a course to Naboo, informed her former husband of her new home, and prepared herself to rejoin an old friend…






The air was crisp, and fresh. The morning dew still dripped from the leaves of the trees; along the veins it rode, beads of water deposited from the night sky, to reach the broken edge of the plant and fall, a long and fatal fall, to the surface of a rock below. The steady drip like the heartbeat of the forest; muted like a silent assassin, was Mother Nature, silently and efficiently going about its business.

A tree falls in the woods, and irregardless of whether anyone is around to hear the sound, it can be easily witnessed for the next several years, covered in moss and beetles and worms. Destruction bred creation; an old tree falls, a new tree is born of the base genetic materials redeposited into the soil. The cycle of life claimed one victim and created two twin children. Everything in its right place.

Each step man made into the woods had the potential to cause catastrophic damage to that cycle, so to be so bold as to construct a house in said woods was truly an audacious move. Nevertheless, there was something… peaceful, about being amidst the heart of the beast, such as it were. To see the cycle… of death, and life, and death again, playing out, only steps from where you sleep. To know… the clarity, the calm, and peace, of death… that everything happens for a reason…

Even standing at the door soothed her soul.

This was to be her home.

This was to be her house…





Tears rolled down her cheek, landing like raindrops on her shoulder. She grinned so hard that the musculature of her jaw hurt. She had been waiting for this moment for years.

When the two finally parted, both laughed nervously, looking at the other. When they stopped touching, stopped hugging, both had shaken slightly from the intensity of their reunion. Both had cried a little. Both were smiling absurdly. And in the moments after, there was an awkward moment where both realized that that had been one of the most intense moments of human contact either had experienced. And the breaking of that awkward moment could only come through one logical way. More human contact.

This time, it was a simple holding of the hands. One placed a pair of hands out, and the other cupped them over. Face to face they stood, grinning like schoolgirls.

“Dre,” the older of the two said. “Dre, it has been entirely too long.”

The younger, Andrea, nodded. “It has been many years, Amnde. It is so good to finally see you again.”

The two finally broke contact and started to walk. They had been old friends before they came here… Amalia Azalin, and Andrea Rashanagok… but they couldn’t use their real names. Though Organa wanted a Jedi Order, public, proud, and true, The Sith were still a very real threat. Outside of those whose public positions made them recognizable anyway, it was best not to associate people with their actual names. So aliases were necessary… for Andrea, simple Dre would do, and Amalia became Amnde, Jedi Knight. Andrea had been told of this before she came to the surface, but had to stop herself more than once from simply blurting out her old friends name.

They were living in strange times. It felt, sometimes, like they were in the middle of the eye of a great storm… that the expulsion of The Sith had brought them the calm, but that the other side would soon fall, and the wind, and the rain, would return with a furious vengeance. But… for now… it was best not to dwell on what might happen in a hypothetical future. For now… for now, it was best just to enjoy the calm.

“I heard you bought a house already?” Amnde asked her, and Dre nodded. “In the city?”

“In the forest, by a lake,” Dre replied back. “Do you live in the city?”

Amnde shook her head. “I’m not sure where I’m going to live yet… for the time being, I’ve been staying in one of the hospitals in the underwater city…”

“Hospital? Is something wrong with you?” Dre asked, concerned, but Amnde shook her head.

“Just a little sickness stemming from the pregnancy,” she said, referring to the romance she’d had with Malice… around the time they’d last seen each other, several years ago. “It’s amazing that after all this time, my body still beats me up about that.”

Dre grinned, knowing that well. “Well, when you’re feeling better…”

“Oh, I feel alright now,” Amnde said. “Leia and I have been working on meditation techniques, which help me to sleep better. I just don’t like change, you know? Once I settle in somewhere… I can sleep at the hospital, and I don’t bother anyone, or get in their way. It sort of feels like home, I guess…”

Dre furrowed her brow. It sort of made sense… and it was the Amalia she knew. She didn’t like change… it scared her, and frustrated her, when things around her changed. She imagined the migration of the Jedi to Naboo had disrupted the routine she had established… and until she had a new one, she would likely be on edge. “Well, either way…” Dre said, continuing her earlier thought, “you’re welcome to come by my house any time you want to visit.”

“Thanks,” Amnde said, smiling. “I’ll make sure to come by soon.” Despite saying that, though, something told Dre that Amnde wouldn’t come by. Amnde was always a hard one to predict, but sometimes, she was fairly easy to read… and when Dre heard her talk now, she heard a restlessness in her voice… something that said that she had questions… about her place here, and whether this was home. Dre worried then for her old friend… sensing the hesitation, and the doubt… and concluded that they would likely never get to sit down and catch up.

The two shared another hug when they parted, though, and Amalia headed back to the city of Theed, from where a shuttle ride to the underwater city, and The Temple, awaited her. Andrea stretched in the afternoon breeze… she had no plans for the day, and what a lovely day it was. No hint of rain or cloud. If this was the calm before the storm, she would enjoy that calm until the bitter end.

Here she was. Andrea Rashanagok, on Naboo. Ready to begin her new life as a Jedi student. Putting her best foot forward to make something of herself… to make a new beginning, in a new home.

Everything in its right place.

“I wish this wasn’t necessary.”

The room was full of serious faces; serious people from serious places. The gathered all worn the same tired robes, dirty and ragged their unwashed clothes. They squeezed closer together in a massive room, wanting in that moment not to feel so alone. To feel together, as much as they could be.

As they had to be.

“A few months ago I told you all to begin using aliases in place of your actual names when you trained here, and when you were on missions. There was a reason for this, and it is because though we have our freedom and our home, there are still those who strive to eliminate what we represent.

We stand for peace. For justice. For calm and order in a galaxy of turmoil. There are those out there who thrive in turmoil. Who live for disorder, for chaos and panic. For injustice. For war. There are those out there who would fight to the death to oppose us.

Sometimes, it’s to their death.

Sometimes, it is not.

And it’s because of the cost of this struggle that I ask us to hide our names. Official records, official purchases such as travel tickets, accommodations, meals… they can all be tracked. Traced. By using your real name, which you must do, to make such purchases and arrangements, you expose that name to anyone who wants to find it.

It is thus imperative that in the process of our duties, in the training of our abilities, that we separate ourselves from our names. We must do what we can to ensure that we cannot be hunted down. Because they will come for us. Do not let the peaceful life we have on Naboo fool you from thinking that they will one day come for us. When they do, and when they come here, I intend to face them. But I cannot help you if they track you down out there. If they follow a trail of paper and find you when you sleep. That is why I asked you to do what you do.

I am currently working on establishing an escort in the form of soldiers from the New Republic. It isn’t easy, though. Mr. Ekan has his hands full just filling the absolutely critical positions, and while recruitment is high, practically useful candidates are few, training is slow, and bureaucracy is perplexing. Nevertheless, he has given me his word that he is doing what he can to help us, because he understands that we both want the same thing.

But there is something else.”

The woman at the podium stopped. She looked down at her papers and steeled herself.

“We received word earlier today that The Temple Of The Jedi on Elrood has been attacked. At this point we don’t have a lot of details except to know that the forces guarding the world have been completely destroyed, and that the Jedi that did not flee the world, have now been captured or killed by The Marzullo Clan.”

“The Marzullos!” a shout came from the back of the room. Kahn, one of the younger knights of the order. Idealistic, and proactive. A good swordsman. “I thought that intelligence reports suggested they were closer to a gang of criminals than a Sith empire?”

“And that they were often too busy fighting amongst themselves to fight anyone else,” came another voice. Adrian… he was a quiet one. Not one to speak up; he must have friends on Elrood to be so concerned.

“Our intelligence into what the Sith do cannot be actively updated as fast as we would like,” the woman answered back. “I know you want me to have answers here, but I don’t have them. When we send spies to study the Sith, the spies die. Eventually we don’t have any spies anymore, so we learn what we can when we can and try and keep everyone alive. Obviously The Marzullos have made a bold move here, bolder than we anticipated, and the cost here has been great.”

“What about Artamir?” Another Jedi, Jedi Horn, asked.

“And his students?” One of the females, Nomi, asked. “DJExtreme was on Elrood…”

“We don’t have that kind of information at this time,” the woman said, then her eyes lowered, “but… The Marzullo Clan has stated that it will not accept ransom or negotiation for any hostages.”

“Then we attack!” came a rallying cry from the center of the room. Han Skywalker… one of the Jedi whose political position made using an alias impractical. He held considerable influence over Tatooine for obvious reasons. “We strike back, and take the world back. Rescue the captives, and free the populace of the planet.”

A bold plan to be sure, but from the way that the woman at the podium sighed when it was suggested, an unlikely response. “We have a sizable armada right now, but if we are attacked… The Naboo Sith Order, or The Sith Brotherhood, are both capable of crippling our fleet. We cannot deploy military assets to defend a planet against The Marzullos. We could probably beat them on Elrood, but the cost could be magnificent, and it’s not a risk that The New Republic is willing to take.”

“So we do what?” another voice asked. Cole. A measured, respectful Jedi. He seemed to be very well balanced and intelligent, but for the most part, silent. On this day, though, he had found a voice with which to protest. “We allow The Marzullos to rape and pillage the planet, to torture the Jedi students there, to continue to spread their war and violence across the galaxy?”

The woman at the podium gripped her hands on the edges of the wooden surface. Even from a distance, her frustration was obvious; though, what she was frustrated with was only the subject of idle speculation. “I repeat, and ask that you carefully study my words. We cannot deploy military assets to defend the planet.”

Dre smiled slyly. Clever girl. She was standing at the podium in both of her clothes; one the robes of the leader of the Jedi, though her hat had her as a chief of state of The New Republic. Trying to convey a message that didn’t violate the ethics and responsibilities of both sides was almost impossible unless one carefully guarded their words.

She couldn’t authorize any military assets.

But Jedi weren’t members of The New Republic military. Some of them might have commissions, but those could easily be set aside.

“I want to make it clear,” the woman said, “that this is a voluntary mission. No one need accept this mission and feel that it was a command from me. I will provide all the assistance I can to anyone who would like to volunteer in the Jedi rescue and relief effort to Elrood. Those who wish to undertake this task should gather your equipment and supplies and return here before the set of the sun. Those who do not may return home; we will reconvene tomorrow for morning services. Thank you, and May The Force Be With You All.”

The phrase was echoed and the Jedi began to leave the large amphitheatre. The meeting concluded, Dre turned to leave as well.

“Dre.”

Dre froze, turning back to the woman at the podium.

“Stay a moment?”

Dre nodded slowly. The rest of the Jedi continued to file out, but the young woman turned and began to walk towards the podium. “Yes, Master?”

“Call me Leia,” the woman said. “There’s no need for titles when it’s only the two of us. How are you, Andrea? Have you settled in well?”

“I have, and I thank you for asking,” Andrea said, and she offered a short, respectful bow. She held out her hand, and Leia Organa Solo took it as she stepped from the elevated platform of the podium and down the wooden floor below. “This world is a beautiful place. Where I’m from… so much is focused on technology, on the lights, and the heat, but here? Technology blends in with nature and almost… disappears… as if…”

“The entire planet were one big ecosystem, with the people, and their toys, a part of that cycle,” Organa finished. “It is a deliberate action of ours not to displace that which need not be displaced. We are the custodians of peace… that includes peace with the world around us.”

“The effort is appreciated,” Andrea said, “by all, I imagine, and not just me. I have a lovely house in the woods, and I could not ask for anything to improve my stay here.”

“Nothing?”

Andrea let the question hang. Pondered a response.

Before Leia continued. “Andrea, as you are likely aware, the name Rashanagok is not exactly a common name. So, when I saw that a Micheal Rashanagok had requested permission to land… I naturally…”

“He’s my husband,” she said. “Well… ex-husband.”

“I know,” Organa said. “I knew that when you initially landed here. I naturally wanted to know why he was here, and I thought that you would know.”

“I can assume,” she replied, dryly. She didn’t speak to her husband except to inquire about her son, but when she did, he told her tales of the downward spiral… tales of a man unable to cope with being alone. He was losing the only remaining thing that she admired of him; his dedication as a father. With that removed, he became useless to her, and she would need to take back her son. “I am… not looking forward to seeing him. Though, hopefully, he has brought my son with him.”

“I understand,” Leia said. Of course, she didn’t, as she’d never had children, but she had a deadbeat boyfriend in the past. That part made sense to her. “There is one other thing…”

“Anything I can do,” Andrea said, already sensing from Leia’s tone that she was being asked a favor.

“Amnde… Amalia… she has been… distracted. I cannot quite put my finger on what is troubling her…” Leia said, trailing off. “She seems pensive. As if she constantly debates in her mind on a decision which has no conclusion. As if a part of her being is in flux; unable to come to terms with… something. I know I am being vague, but I have known Amalia for a long time. Longer than you. But she seems… closed off, to me.”

“But if you’ve known her longer…”

“Longer does not necessarily mean better,” Leia said. “I consider Amalia to be one of my closest and dearest friends. We have been working together in the advancement of the ways of peace for longer than I can recall. But there is something that tells me that Amalia does not tell me… everything. That certain aspects of herself remain closed off from me. I do not know why, and I would not ask Amalia to bare that which she does not wish to share. Nevertheless, I am concerned about my friend. Tell me, Andrea… have you spoken to her?”

“I have,” Andrea said, softly nodding her head. “What you say is true… she seems… distant. I am not sure your faith in me is warranted. I do not know that she will speak to me where she will not speak to you. But, I as well, consider myself a friend of Amalia, and I share your concern. I will speak to her… and I hope that, even if she does not feel comfortable sharing with us what ails her, that she will trust us to do all that we can to support and comfort her through whatever she should face. I will speak to you once I have spoken with her, and hopefully, she can find peace.”

“May The Force Be With Her,” Leia said, “and with you as well, Andrea.”

“Goodnight, Master Solo,” Andrea said, and with her mind, reached out, and turned the lights of the great hall off. Organa walked towards the docks, and Andrea, towards the spaceport.

The two would never speak again.






There will come a day when you will wake up and realize that there will come a day when you will not. All that you can do is to do all that you can, to live each day leaving nothing left unsaid, no words waiting for a tomorrow that will never come. - Viryn Quell

The world doesn't just end, abruptly. Go to sleep one day and wake up to a wasteland. It's never like that. There are always signs. Markers, precursors, things that should have been warnings but went unnoticed. When people measure tragedy, and loss, they often ask, "How did this happen?"

The correct question would be "How could we let this happen?" - Unknown

“Well, it’s wood.”

The man sighed, and shook his head.

“Right, I GOT that part,” he said. “What KIND of wood? It’s an important question. We have hard wood, soft wood, particulate, artifice… any kind of wood you can think of, we have. Some good for decks, some good for boards, some good for tables…”

“It’s for a house,” the man answered. “A wood house. I need house wood.”

“Ain’t no such thing as house wood,” the man said. “What kind of house is it, anyway? Mansion, shack, cabin, outhouse…”

“Cabin!” the other man replied, shaking his hand with a finger outstretched. “It’s in the woods, by a lake.”

“Doesn’t matter where it is, matters what it is,” the man said. “But I have an idea. Follow me.”

The two men walked, with the older of the two leading. They passed various aisles of building supply, none of which was wood, until they walked into a large warehouse about the size of a starcraft hanger. In it was the man’s supply of wood.

“Okay, so this over here is Nubian Fir Tree,” the man said. “It’s those big needly ones you see in the forest. It’s malleable, while being functionally strong as a support and easy to waterproof. If you use this as your exterior and crossbeams and…” the man said, dragging his hand… “that Nubian Hard Cedar over there to form your angle supports, panels, and framing, I think you might be in business.”

The man reached up, metal fingers digging into his short, grey beard. “I have only two questions then,” he said. “How much will it cost, and when can you have it delivered to me?”

The proprietor smiled. “Walk back to my office, friend, and let’s talk numbers.”





A wise man once said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. - Unknown

The strands of red danced together like the hair of a fire headed temptress, twisting with yellow locks in turn, a lovely, fatal cycle, the dance that he directed. The strands were not of hair, whether it be of the blond or fire colored variety, but were instead wisps and licks of flame itself. And the dance he directed was truly a dance of death.

He saw the flame as if it were made of string, and with invisible needles, he stitched, and knit, the ball of fire into a tightly wound sphere. When the string strayed from the sphere, it was by his hand it was led back to form. The strings pushed against each other, unable to accept confinement, but in confinement did the strings become more dense, more heated, and even more destructive.

He wove the strands of fire into a deadlier and deadlier ball. It had taken hours to get to this point, and would take hours…

Avery.

The words came, unspoken, from the darkness, and he felt his grip on the fire weaken.

No! Not now! Not when I am so close!

Avery. You are required.

With that, the Sith felt his grip on the flames fail entirely. He watched, in intense anger, as the ball of flame unfurled. The strings fell of their own accord, listless and weightless, to the ground, where they broke and burned only moments before extinguishing.

Of course, Sith Lord Avery did not dare disobey. The voice could only have come from one, for only one had such power on this world. To reach, and talk, and touch anything on the surface of this world meant the influence that one could not achieve in life. It was the call of His Master, and he could not ignore such a summons. Nor could he direct his anger towards the spirit of the long dead Sith Lord.

But he had been summoned because someone was here. That was Avery’s primary function; to assess those who arrived at this world. Whether that assessment be communicative, or antagonistic, the new were assessed, and either welcomed, or dispelled.

On this day, Avery was in no mood for a conversation.

He strode, cloak billowing behind, each step a loud, angry footfall across the ancient stone.

When he left the temple, the smell of the wet woods filled his nostrils. It was a pleasant and calming cacophony of smells on most days, but on this afternoon, all Avery could smell was the residual traces of the burnt air that still existed in the back of his nose. He did not want to be in the woods, he wanted to be in his room in the temple, perfecting his ability to craft flame from nothing but his anger and focus. Instead, he was here, at the landing pad of the temple.

There was no ship, so whoever had come here, had made a one way trip.

That gave Avery reason to smile.

They were not expected back. How fortunate, for they would never return from whence they came.

“You,” he said. The various workers who were bringing in the cargo froze, despite knowing that Avery was not talking to them. His frown had returned as he appraised the newcomer.

He was tall, but very thin, as if he did not eat. His musculature seemed underdeveloped as a result, and Avery doubted his strength immediately. His hair was ragged and uncut. His eyes were soft. Weak.

“What is your purpose here, outsider?”

The man stood. “I am Ahnk, of Obroa-skai. I have come here to learn the ways of The Sith.”

Avery nodded, walking around him, as if studying him carefully. “Have you brought a weapon, Ahnk of Obroa-Skai?”

“I have not,” he said, and Avery reached out with a hand and punched him, knocking him backwards to his knees. He did not fall to his back though, and that surprised Avery; perhaps this gait man was stronger than he gave him credit for.

And though Avery could see the fire in his eyes, and the tensing of the vein in his neck that told him that Ahnk’s heart was beating out of hatred and aggression, he made no move to counterattack. Impressive, was Avery’s only conclusion, to find someone so ready to fight, but so docile as well to take what needed to be endured from one’s superiors.

Perhaps he had misjudged this man indeed.

“You come unprepared,” Avery said. “You have not eaten enough to support the muscles that you have attempted to develop, and you have not drank enough water to support the growth of your tissue. Blood is water and blood is power; if you do not do what you need to do to strengthen your blood, your body will weaken and you will be useless.”

The man nodded and Avery turned his back on him.

“You also came without a weapon,” Avery continued. “This is foolish; when entering what may well be hostile terrain, one must always carry a weapon. You will be given a lightsaber now, and may use it for the purpose of your first test.” Avery picked up one of the basic lightsabers that the Sith had for training, and put it into Ahnk’s hand.

Ahnk looked down at it, and twisted his hand, getting used to the weight of it.

Avery stepped back, and removed his cloak, casting it to the side. “I believe,” he said, reaching to his belt, and unclipping his own lightsaber. “I believe you know what happens now.”

“I am to fight you,” Ahnk said. It was not a question.

“If you survive, we will train you,” Avery said. “If you do not, we will burn you.”

Ahnk nodded deeply, understanding what he was committing to.

“Are you ready?” Avery asked. Ahnk nodded, and Avery engaged his saber, the blade coming into being with a familiar hiss. “Then strike me, Ahnk of Obroa-Skai, if you can.”

Ahnk ignited his own saber as he took his first step. He did not walk and Avery was caught completely offguard by how fast he could move. Avery had dueled faster, but they all imbued their movements through the force; this man simply ran really really fast. He moved faster than the curl of flesh around his bones would seem to allow, and was upon the Sith Lord in seconds.

His first strike was a diagonal slash aimed directly at the Sith’s neck, with Avery parried easily, but Ahnk continued by moving with the force of the parry to bring his saber down towards Avery’s knee. Avery grinned and gritted his teeth as he spun his leg out of the way, letting his blade land atop Ahnk’s, keeping his saber in place. He then reached out with his fist and found the thin man’s jaw, staggering him backwards.

Avery held his saber up, level with the thin man’s sternum. He watched as Ahnk reached up a hand to insure he had not lost any of his teeth and spat a large globule of blood to the cold stone below. Avery reached his free hand up and curled his fingers to invite the other warrior forward, and Ahnk accepted the invitation, launching himself at the Sith again.

Their blades met, connected and separated in flashes of frenetically paced combat. Ahnk was fast but Avery was faster, as the Dark Side flowed through his veins. Ahnk had no answer for the power of The Sith, as Avery anticipated his movements and blocked all of his attacks. In time, Ahnk would tire, and Avery would take the offensive.

It was perhaps that arrogance that led to Ahnk gaining the upper hand. Avery pushed Ahnk back with a strong parry, but Ahnk, undeterred, wound up an overhand slash with both hands on the saber. When Avery applied his force to block the saber, though, he found that Ahnk’s grip upon his weapon was incredibly loose. He was not throwing his weight into a saber slash…

…no. Avery realized that the saber slash had been a feint when his knee buckled under him. The Sith Lord fell, almost bringing Ahnk with him as his foot sat behind the Sith’s now useless left knee. Ahnk, though, took a step back, and raised his blade over his head. He would score his strike, and it would be glorious.

But overconfidence was not a trait the Sith alone were guilty of possessing. Ahnk was not able to land his strike as he found himself instead groaning in pain. The metal handle of Avery’s lightsaber was now lodged inside his stomach, with the blade having long ago pierced his internal organs. Ahnk felt the pain coursing through his body, followed closely by another sensation; fear.

It was not a killing blow. But Ahnk found that Avery had him defenseless, as the Sith Lord took the lightsaber from Ahnk’s hand and threw it aside. He pulled is own saber out of the thin man’s stomach, drawing with it the blood and bile that had spilled from the organs of the younger man. Ahnk fell to his knees, his eyes watching Avery intently.

“Goodbye, Ahnk of Obroa-Skai,” Avery said, and for the first time, allowed Ahnk to see him smile.

With a lateral slice of his lightsaber, Sith Lord Avery slit the throat of Ahnk Rashanagok. A spray of blood splashed against the stone below; arterial spray released as the carotid and subclavian arteries were severed by the blade. While the heat and energy of the lightsaber cauterized the flesh by burning it and causing it to wilt closed, the wound was not completely bloodless. The original spray aside, as the body of the prospective pupil fell to the stone, bends and breaks in the burn pattern of the flesh allowed for the escaping of blood. The blood began to pool below him; with the arteries severed, there was no bloodflow to the brain, and his consciousness faded, with brain death imminent.

That had been a killing blow.

Avery raised his saber vertically to salute the man. He had been a challenge; had it been another day but today, Avery likely would not have killed him. But on this day, Avery did not have the patience to break and tutor him. He had more important things to do.

Such as crafting fire.

Avery disengaged his saber, and clipped it back to his belt. He reached out his hand, uncurling glove glad fingers, and inhaled deeply as he shut his eyes. In his mind, saw the strands of string form, and bend…

No.

Avery allowed his eyes to open, as the command broke his concentration.

He is to live, Avery. He will be very valuable to us.

“Him?” Avery said, unconvinced. “Did you not see how easily I defeated him?”

I was watching. He is aggressive; perhaps, now, too aggressive. But his aggressiveness serves him well, and with experience to temper his will to kill, he could be a valuable asset.

“His headstrong nature would only lead to his death,” Avery commented. “We have hidden ourselves from The Jedi. Amassed an armada, are training an army… if he were to attack prematurely he would expose everything!”

The time draws nearer that we will expose ourselves regardless. When war with The Jedi comes, Ahnk of Obroa-Skai could be a powerful weapon to have at our disposal. You do not need to train him, Avery; I only command you not to kill him.

Avery nodded his head. Not willing to argue with His Master any further. “Very well. Do with him as you wish, Master.”

The trees seemed to shake as a dark wind rolled into the clearing. The wind became mist and the mist became man as the spirit of the Dark Lord Of The Sith took solid form. He reached down to lift the head of the fallen man. His eyes were vacant and dead; he had stopped breathing. Exar Kun reached out and pulled a vine from the woods, a vine composed of slush and slurry from a pond set into the stone. The vine pushed itself into the wound of the man, and began to force itself down his exposed throat.

Kun released Ahnk, but allowed his body to remain suspended in the air. He watched, intently, as the slime that he had brought forth began to push itself through his veins. The man’s body began to twitch as his muscles jerked against his control; forced to straighten, to blink, and to breathe by natural impulses as his body was transformed. The wound began to close; at the same time, a dark pallor took over his features as his skin turned black.

His eyes became alive again. Fixated on the spirit before him.

“Welcome, Brother,” the spirit told him. The rejuvenated man slowly nodded his head. “From this day forward, you are Ahnk Of The Sith Brotherhood. You will be my apprentice, and I will be your Master.”

When his feet were lowered to the ground, Ahnk wasted no time, and immediately dropped to his knees.










In the end do not all paths lead to the same destiny? - Unknown

The intensity and movement was the same when Andrea met her son as when she met her friend. It had now been almost a year since she had seen Andrew, and he had grown… my how he had grown! He was truly developing into the young man that she always knew that he would become.

His father was something of a different story. He looked nervous; sweating, blinking too much. He had put on weight and not in the good areas. Perhaps most troubling, he had a friend with him. His friend did not look very friendly, instead appearing dirty and disheveled. She did not ask how the two had met and she frankly did not care to know.

Still… her boy had come!

“Oh Andrew, I’ve missed you so,” she said, holding him tightly. She released him a bit to look into his eyes. “Have you been good?”

“I have,” he said. He squirmed, wanting to be free, so she released him. He did not flee. “I’ve been studying a lot and eating well, like you told me.”

“Good, I’m glad,” she said, smiling. She leaned in a little closer, and dropped the volume of her voice. “Andrew, what would you say if I said I wanted you to live with me?”

His eyes beamed, but then he frowned. “Dad too?”

She frowned a little too. “Just me and you, Andrew.”

He looked down at his feet, then back up at her. “Does dad know?”

She sighed. “Not yet… and don’t say anything to him. This is something him and I should talk about by ourselves.”

She hugged her son again, and looked over his shoulder at the pair of men behind.

She had a bad feeling about this.





Photosynthesis is the process through which non-animal lifeforms, namely plants and algae, but sometimes also bacteria, create carbohydrate chains from breaking down carbon dioxide in the air. The process is dependent upon light, a carbon/oxygen atmosphere, and water. The carbon in the carbon dioxide reacts with the hydrogen in the water, catalyzed by the energy provided by the light. The resultant combination is usually sugar, often fructose. A byproduct of the equation not retained within the system is pure oxygen, released into the atmosphere as a waste product.

Through this process is created the building blocks for all life within a world. The light from the sun and the water from the atmosphere provides the plants with what they need to create the sugars by which they survive; metabolizing the organic carbon to create new cellular material and breaking down the compound to release energy by which they survive.

The waste product, oxygen, is a critical component in the life cycle of most organisms. The oxygen variation most commonly released by photosynthesis is dioxygen, which is two oxygen atoms fused together. Dioxygen reacts with pure hydrogen to create water, a compound necessary for many resultant reactions including, by coincidence, photosynthesis.

Besides that, dioxygen forms any number of a thousand organic solvents, saccharides, and amino acids. It is necessary to form the protein chain known as hemoglobin, which carries pure oxygen to cells throughout the animal body, where it is used to refresh depleted cells or to create entirely new ones. Without photosynthesis, pure oxygen would not exist on most worlds, and without pure oxygen, carbon based life would be impossible.

Yet, one does not notice photosynthesis.

The moisture in the air. The cool breeze. The snapping of the leaf underfoot. But not one of the most critical, fundamental processes necessary to create, and sustain, the ecosystem in which one lives. A process needed to keep the human heart beating. The very point of the human heart beating was to spread oxygen to the cells of the human body, and the process through which that oxygen was created was routinely ignored.

Sometimes, there were more important things for the heart to consider than staying alive.





“I don’t give a shit, just find it,” the man said.

Grey; that was his name. Richard Grey. He was Micheal Rashanagok’s friend. Not so much a friend really. More like… a nemesis. Of course, one doesn’t walk up to one’s estranged wife and introduce the man whom has sworn to kill you unless you can come up with the money that you owe him.

Things had been hard on Micheal. When he and Andrea were together, he lost himself sometimes in the games; drank too much, stayed out too late. He wasn’t a perfect person, and he hated himself for his failures, but all hating himself did was make him want to escape who he was, which led to him drinking more and staying out later. He always apologized, but he always knew it was never enough.

When she left, he was destroyed.

That he had a family had been his core; now, he had abandoned, and lost, his only responsibility. Now his failure was complete.

So Micheal drank more. Stayed out later. Risked more money.

He still did the best he could to look after his son. Andrew was all he had left; but, he was moody. Sometimes pushed the boy away, unable to help him… unable to help himself. Content to rest and be miserable. Alone. Knowing he would die alone.

He’d hoped that he could talk Andrea into taking him back, but when he saw her, he knew. She didn’t even have to speak a word; just turn a cold shoulder, shoot a steel glare his way, for him to know that reconciliation was impossible. Moreover, he knew from how she had hardened since last they had spoken that she wasn’t content anymore what they had. She was going to take his son.

Micheal wouldn’t fight. He loved Andrew more than anything else, but he knew, deep down, he knew that she was right. He knew he had lost control. Had lost everything.

That’s why he was here.

He knew she had money tucked away. She didn’t make anything here, but continued to send him money to look after Andrew. He knew that she must have a stockpile somewhere. All he had to do was find it.

He was stealing. It was wrong. He knew that… he knew that it was wrong, but, he had no choice. He had lost everything. He knew if he asked her, she would say no… would disagree with his plan, would say that he was crazy, that he was hopeless. But he just needed enough to pay off Borka… then a little more to get back to the tables. If he just made a few good hands, pushing in at the right time, he could make all his troubles disappear.

He realized the mistakes he’d made before. This time would be different. He would be in control. He just needed a place to start! That was all he asked. Just a turn in the right direction.

But she’d hidden everything well. Her computers were password protected and even once he got past that, so were her accounts. Hacking the account numbers wasn’t hard since they were kept in a secured database but the passwords… that would take time.

“She’s pretty cute,” Grey said, behind him. “Maybe if you offered her up, Borka might ‘forget’ some of the money you owe him. Of course, he’d probably need to be sure she was worth it…”

His grin was one of the most disgusting things that Micheal had seen.

“I’d suggest you never talk like that to her,” he said, and then turned back to work.





The light reflected softly off the water. It was a warm day, but not a hot day; the ultraviolet radiation of the sun temporarily abated by the cooling effect provided by the movement of a gentle gust of wind. The trees stood firm but their leaves did not, and the forest was alive with the sound of a summer day. And then there was the water.

He was captivated by it… had never seen anything like it. It seemed to stretch forever; he could see trees in the distance that looked as tall as his foot. The water seemed almost like a moving picture of the skyline behind; the trees, the rocks, the houses and the sun, all danced a soft and subtle dance across the surface of the water, but beyond… beyond was a mystery. The water was clearer than any he had seen before, but the depth to which it went down…

As far as he knew, it never ended.

He reached out and touched it. The water bent around his finger in rippling waves; the displaced volume unable to simply disappear, and instead dispersing itself over a wider area, a little at a time. If he did not move his finger, the waves would stop. At first, turn inward, for all that was displaced would try to regain its former place, but then they would stop completely, and all would be calm again.

Calm was a feeling he had never known.

It, like the calming warmth of the afternoon sun, felt very, very good.

Even if he would never know what this was like again, he had it now, and he was going to enjoy it as long as he could.

Casting a glance to the house to make sure no one was watching, Andrew took two steps and dove into the lake.





The forest helped to calm her nerves. Running was stressful, but she endured because she knew that it had a practical benefit. But running left her with nothing but time to digest her thoughts, whereas something that forced her to apply herself would occupy her mentally, running only occupied her physical body. She moved hips and thighs and arms, but not neurons or cerebral pathways. Not to run, at least.

Today, she thought of her son. Andrew Micheal Rashanagok. He was named for his father but definitely embodied the spirit and intelligence of his mother. He was her son. She saw herself in him every time she looked at him; he was brave, and smart. Even now, considered things that seemed beyond his years.

He had to.

It was living with his father that was holding him back. That’s why she had gone to Leia earlier in the day to ask her if Andrew could remain here; join her schools, learn her ways.

The Jedi Order was not as it once was. The Great Purge, instigated by Darth Sideous to crush resistance The Jedi might have offered his Empire, had reduced the number of force attuned and practiced individuals from the hundreds of thousands to the mere hundreds. Hiding one’s attunement to the force was critical because Imperial Observers were everywhere, and more than once, a person showing off his magic had become an unperson overnight.

When the Galactic Empire was deposed and the New Republic took Coruscant, things changed. The Jedi opened a new temple, away from the political capital of the galaxy, on the world of Naboo, a world that had formerly been home to a group known as The Naboo Sith Order. The battles of the Temples of Theed had been legendary, but in the end, the Jedi had won the day.

Now, The Order needed to focus on rebuilding their ranks. But the methods of old could not be adhered to. The Jedi Order needed to train adults who were capable of learning, growing, adapting, and then training other adults. Part of this was because The Order needed a new influx of warriors because the lure of The Dark Side seemed so much more appealing and they seemed to outnumber the Jedi considerably.

But another reason is simply because adults learnt faster. When one trained an adult an adult would learn and then be capable of passing on what he had learned. But children? If The Jedi Order had to spend all of their time training the ten and twelve year olds of the galaxy, they would need to withdraw from galactic politics and peacekeeping in order to devote their time as full time babysitters.

Thus, the Jedi policy had changed. No longer were the force sensitive youth identified and then brought into The Order. Now, those who felt that they wanted to commit themselves to the ways of the Jedi applied, and those who were deemed to be acceptable adult candidates were accepted.

There was a danger in such a way; the Sith did not have age limits, and the corrupting nature of the lust for power was such that they made easy, plentiful recruits of force sensitive youth struggling with their daily lives. Their numbers grew and their soldiers, many of them extremely young, outnumbered the Jedi considerably. Age was not a concern to the hierarchy of the Sith: none were too young to die.

So, it was with a measure of trepidation that Andrea Rashanagok had approached Leia Organa Solo. While Leia did not say yes, she did not say no either; saying that it was worth consideration. If Andrew could learn from his mother and at a pace similar to his mother, than he could be a valuable student. But he would need to meet with Organa before any decision could be finalized. Andrea had nodded and agreed that the following morning, she would bring Andrew to the temple.

As she ran, she felt something creeping into the back of her mind. It was… it was almost like tendrils of ink, as if she were swimming, and in the distance, an octopus had set upon her with a dark discharge. It was distracting and disconcerting. She stopped running and turned until the darkness was strongest. Then, she began running again.

Ahead, she saw him; dark black cloak billowing behind as he walked through the forest. The gauntlet, a metal and transparisteel device, was unmistakably not Jedi technology, and given the darkness she felt, there was only one conclusion.

He was a Sith.

A Sith had violated Naboo. Suddenly, the aliases and precautions seemed relevant. Suddenly, she felt fear.

She tried to cast it aside and be calm, but knew that her efforts were in vain. When she caught up to him…

He seemed to sense her then, because he stopped and turned. She stopped running and started walking, keeping a measure of distance between them.

He was tall, and pale. A human, though of which planet was hard to tell. His eyes were without color, but his forehead was marked with the tattoo she had seen of Sith Warriors; the combative evolution of a Sith, standing in contrast to the more sorcerer-like Acolytes. That meant that he was a capable fighter, which meant trouble.

“Lovely day for a walk in the woods,” Andrea said, folding her hands behind her back.

The man nodded. “I am looking for a Jedi. Have you seen any?” the man asked her.

She fought back a gulp. Very direct of him. “I can take you to the temple; there are many Jedi there.”

“I am not looking for many, I am looking for one,” he said. “My mission here is to study the tactical readiness of students of The Jedi Order. If I find one, I am to duel them. If I return, than your tactical readiness is insufficient. If I do not, than no more Sith will come.”

She considered what he was saying. If she believed what he claimed at face value, he was the vanguard for a Sith invasion. But… if he were to die… she had to think fast. Logic told her not to engage him… to run for the temple, to bring others, to warn others, but something in the back of her mind told her to stop, right now, and fight.

It was Andrew.

If she didn’t stop this Sith now, what if he stumbled on her son? What if he stumbled on a trainee less advanced than her? She had been here for over a year now… she was confident that she knew enough… confident in taking the risk. It was a risk worth taking… the chance to show the Sith that their terrorism would be met with resistance, to the death if need be. She would duel this Sith, and she would win.

When she pulled her hands back in front of her, the Sith grinned. His eyes fell on her lightsaber and he nodded as he reached for his own.





“Faster,” the man said.

Micheal Rashanagok tried to walk faster, but walking through the wet swamps of Naboo was not easy. Richard Grey walked behind; no longer under the pretense of being friends, and no longer hiding his blaster rifle beneath his cloak.

Micheal had not found the money.

He had only one request of Grey; that he shoot him in the woods. He did not want his son coming in from his swim to find his father’s body. Have his wife hold the boy and explain to him the nature of life and death. He had made his mistakes. He did not want anyone else to pay for them.

So they walked.

“I want you to tell Borka that I’m sorry,” he said, as he tried to keep walking. “Tell him I never meant to…”

“Save it,” Grey said. “Look, we’ve walked far enough. We’re miles from that stupid house, so just… do what you have to do. Make peace.”

Micheal stopped, and turned. Didn’t want to get shot in the back. He reached a hand up and crossed his heart with it. “I love you, Andrew.”

In his head, he heard the reply.

Looked, and saw Andrew, hidden away in the bushes. Watching it all.

He was unable to tell Grey not to fire. As he fell, he saw the tears of his son fall as well.

Grey raised the barrel of his weapon to his lips and softly blew away the smoke. He took three steps towards the body and stood over it, appraising his handiwork.

Then he fell to his knees.

He reached back behind him, to pull the darts out of his neck. “…p…poison?”

“Borka The Hutt has been warned to stay within Hutt Space,” came a heavily filtered voice from the woods. “His transgressions into The Rim have not gone unnoticed; Jabba The Hutt is hopeful that your removal will be an adequate message.”

“You fucker!” Grey said, but those became his last words; the man stepping from the brush turned his arm to him and a gauntlet attachment shot out a jet of flame which consumed the thug, rendering him molt within only seconds.

The armored warrior stepped past the burnt corpse, stepping instead to the one with the blaster wounds. Curious; he’d walked into some kind of execution. Hadn’t been planning to catch Grey here, but spotted the homing beacon on his ship as he made a run back to Tattooine and felt it was a good chance to settle the old marker on his head. But this man…

Something not right about this scene. Not right at all.

“Who was he, to you?” the man asked, his voice coming out a mechanical droll through the vocoder and breathing filter of his mask.

The child stepped from the bushes. He was… maybe twelve, but looked younger. Looked thin and underfed, and scared. “He was my father,” he said, sounding braver than he appeared.

The helmet nodded in respect. “As someone who once stood where you do, I do not envy you at this moment,” he said. It was the closest he could to offering condolences.

“Does… the rage… the anger I feel now…” the boy said, shaking. “Does this pain ever go away, or… will I always feel like this?”

The man in the mask hesitated only a few seconds. “Always like this.”

The boy nodded. He stepped past the burnt corpse, and in a way, the helmeted warrior felt truly sorry for him; he did not even have revenge to aspire to. His loss had been complete.

“Take solace in this; life, in all its cruelness and harshness, is nothing if not fair,” the man said as he stood, looking down at the boy. “Those who would punish others are always punished in turn; such is the way of things. In the end, you get what you deserve, and not a bullet less.”

The boy nodded softly. The helmeted warrior walked away, and he fell, clutching at the dead body that had been his father.

The bounty hunter wondered to himself what monster this day had created.





Leia Organa Solo did not sleep well.

Sometimes she did, but often she did not. She had dreams of her mother, whom she had known only briefly. And dreams of her father, whom she had known to be a monster. She had dreams of her past and her future and the horrors that would be in, and had been in both. Sometimes, nightmares kept her awake, and caused her to toss and turn.

But oftentimes, she was awoken by another. She had learned, as a diplomat and a politician, that bad news invariably arrived in the middle of the night.

Her and Amalia shared a hug; it was the only thing that seemed natural. There were no words to describe the realizations of what they had been brought to.

Andrea Rashanagok had fought a Sith and she had lost. And for that, she had paid the ultimate price.

Her body lay, peaceful and calm. Amalia would say later as the two drank that she had always been running, Andrea… running for something, from something. Today, she had stopped running. Maybe if she hadn’t…

As the two stood there, though, there were no such considerations. Only the two immediate truths of the situation.

The Sith were aware of their presence on Naboo, and had sent a message today that they wanted The Jedi to know they were watching.

And someone needed to tell Andrew.

With a deep sigh, Leia began to construct the speech in her head, to explain to a small boy how, and more importantly, why his mother was now dead.

She had a feeling that she would not sleep tonight.






When we die, we die alone. – Unknown

When a mechanism fails, many hasten to rebuild it. The wise, however, hasten to replace it.

Such was the foundations of The House Of The Fall. The concrete was solid, and would still support weight, but the wood above had been thoroughly destroyed and needed to be replaced. Many are those who would set about new wood in old stone.

But failure of a piece is failure of a whole. Those who claim a man is more than a sum of his parts are very wrong, for a man is less; a man is only his parts, and only those that affect others. For what does it matter if a man has good in his heart if he has hatred in his hand? Does his soul soothe the families of the dead? For what does it matter if a man wants to stay and fight, if his feet choose to run away? What does the complex nature of man really matter, in the face of his most basic instincts?

To eat. And sleep.

To fuck. And fight.

Adrenaline. Serotonin.

The sum of his parts? A man is well short of that. If a man is defined by his actions than a man is defined by few of his parts, or as is often the case, only one part at a time.

Thus, when a wall falls, one must tear apart the floor as well.

Collapse is complete no matter how much remains intact, because all things exist in balance. When a man hurts his leg, his other leg begins to move differently in order to compensate for such an injury. So is it with ecology and history. Compensatory. That was the word for it, compensatory. Compensatory motion. Compensatory reaction. Compensatory alteration.

When the superstructure of a building collapsed, the damage spread to the substructure. No matter how visible, it existed. What seemed fine on the surface could be useless at its core. One did well not to judge something by its exterior appearance, for it was almost always an incomplete picture.

The woods came alive with the familiar snapping hiss of a lightsaber being ignited. While the man had hammers, saws, and shovels, he felt this the best way.

The best way to remove debris being directed energy weaponry.

No one had ever accused him of being conventional.

Then again, not many would have called him wise either.

He realized that with a smirk as he began to cut the concrete.





Can this chaos not be reversed into the Universe once more? Can that not be done? - Unknown

The moth is an interesting creature.

The moth takes very few offensive actions; it flies, and then, it stops flying. It flutters around for the majority of its life. It is not a predator. While in larval stage it can be dangerous to a larger ecosystem, this is merely a matter of it having no known natural enemy, and thus, no enforceable, natural method of population control.

Despite the moths’ relatively peaceful intent, moths seem to be a kingdom of animal doomed to a life of perpetual suffering and pain. A moth is strongly drawn by instincts that it likely does not understand to bright, ultraviolet light, and sometimes, to open flame. Being so close to a heat source, or worse, an open source of ignition, is fatal to a flammable, carbon based lifeform of such a small size.

Even without the lure of flame though, the moth faces a deadly consequence in forming companionship. For as moths are drawn to flame so are humans to a moth, to analyze, to observe. To watch the wings flap and to study the swirls of color along its body. But though we can look, we cannot touch.

For even a simple, soft touch of a human finger is lethal to a moth. The moth’s wings are very fragile, and the oils that exist on the tips of human flesh, that are so unnoticed to us to as not even be a thought in our day, can end a moth’s life, because those oils upon its wings ensure that a moth will never be able to fly again.

So, a moth is drawn by forces that it cannot understand to seek out something that will prove fatal to it, and is adorned with the mystique and aesthetic so as to make it impossible for humans to ignore, but fatal for humans to reach out and touch. So, whether it be by its own misguided instincts, or by the unavoidable curiousity of those around, the final fate of the moth was, inevitably, pain, and death.

They say that the flapping of a moth’s wings creates a hurricane across the globe.

Perhaps merely an urban legend. Perhaps not.

Perhaps the moth had found a way to perpetuate the circle of death that it is trapped within.

Perhaps, that was the moth’s revenge.

Perhaps the moth realizes something that so few people can come to terms with. That through our emotion, our anger, and our pain, we become more than just a man. And if we turn our pain on the outside world, the impossible seems to become easier. We can magnify the force that our muscles alone could muster, and accomplish in feats of adrenaline and emotion, the almost superhuman.

Maybe the moth was smarter than us all.






Again.

Avery grinned, and spread his fingers. From the tips launched out tendrils of white light, crackling in the night air. The artificially created lightning sharing many of the same properties with the natural variety, but with one key difference; these arcs were extremely focused, and instead of traveling upwards, joining the ground to the clouds, they instead traveled horizontally, and joined two men in the woods.

As Avery smiled, Ahnk bared his teeth. His body was, quite literally, on fire, as the lightning pushed through his skin and into his veins. Traveling through his blood, across the arteries of his chest… his heart pounded, his brain screamed in agony…

And then he fell, unable to stand any longer.

Avery curled his glove shut and the lightning stopped.

Ahnk, for his part, focused purely on remaining breathing. His entire body was weak and badly damaged. He had been enduring the pain, as his master commanded, for hours, and every time he fell, he was allowed to rest long enough for the pain to stop, and then commanded to rise again, and endure. He was not sure what he was being taught, but whatever it was, he hoped that he would learn it soon, or he would very likely die.

Avery, Exar Kun said, without needing to speak aloud. See to our visitor at the landing pad.

“As you command, My Lord,” Avery said, nodding to the spirit. He took his leave, casting one last smile down at the body clutching the stone.

You hate him, Kun observed.

He takes far too much pleasure in my suffering, Ahnk replied, speaking as Kun did. Kun had brought Ahnk back to life, but had left his vocal chords ruined; a memory, he said, of his failure, to remind him, for the rest of his life, that he had been bested, and could be bested again. Motivation. The hint was well taken. I wish that you would allow me…

To what? Kun asked. You would have me pit my two finest pupils against one another, and this time, let one of you die? The spirit started walking, and Ahnk dragged himself to his feet and followed. No, Ahnk. You both have a place within The Brotherhood. Besides, it is better that you hate one another. The way of The Sith is to take. One day, you will want what Avery has. Then, you will kill him.

How will I…

You will know, Kun replied before Ahnk even finished the question. Just ensure that Avery does not, Kun hastened to add, and Ahnk nodded. Do you understand the lesson you were to learn today?

Ahnk shook his head. I know that I am to endure pain…

No, Ahnk, the spirit answered back. You must embrace pain. The Jedi preach discipline and control over their emotions, but emotions are what make us who we are. We must not hide from what we feel, but allow it to define who we are. When you feel pain, embrace it, accept it, and turn it upon others. You can become more than just a man if you choose to embrace the force in such a way.

I understand, Ahnk said. You approve of my hatred of Avery, because…

Ambition makes you powerful; do not hide your ambitions, from me, or from yourself, Kun said. Tell me, Ahnk. What do you want?

Ahnk did not hesitate. I want to kill all of The Jedi.

Why?

Because… Ahnk started, and then stopped. Reconsidered. Because they are weak. Because they are…

Because they let your mother die, Kun said, seeing behind what Ahnk tried to hide.

That is part of it, Ahnk admitted.

The Jedi deserve to die, but the truth is, the person who killed your mother was a Sith, Kun commented. Why, then, do you not want to destroy The Sith?

Because… Ahnk began. He blew out a loud sigh. Because The Jedi preach safety, and security, but they are hallow, and broken words. One cannot blame a killer for being a killer, for it is who he is, but one can blame a soldier who chooses instead to be a simple diplomat, for abandoning the fight and allowing those around to die. I hate The Jedi because they allow others to die, and then stand on podiums and deliver speeches about how evil those are who kill! I want to kill all of The Jedi because when The Jedi are dead, there will be no more lies, and only the truth will remain.

Truth? Kun asked, curious. What truth?

Ahnk smiled. Whatever truth I will impose.

Kun nodded, smiling. You want to rule The Brotherhood; very ambitious, Kun commented. The two reached the end of the stone path; ahead was a drop in the land to the level below, about forty feet all told. Separating one from the fall was a wooden log set upon metal hoists, serving as a makeshift fence. Watch closely.

Ahnk walked to the wood and placed his hands down. Avery was standing at the landing pad, but no one seemed to be there. Then, a soft shimmering filled the space in front of the Sith Lord, and a vessel slowly began to emerge from nothingness. A Sith Infiltrator… with a cloaking device, no less. From inside strode a cloaked figure, who nodded at Avery. Avery, in turn, dropped to one knee in a gesture he normally reserved for Kun. The cloaked figure turned, as if sensing Ahnk, and Ahnk got a good view of their face… dark and red, eyes a bright, shining yellow. They turned back almost immediately and strode past Avery, and Avery followed behind.

Avery… Ahnk said, trying to discern what had transpired.

A necessary appeasement, Kun said. The man in the robes is Darth Zeta, from the Eternal Rogue Order. For the time being, they are more powerful than we are, for they hold both a larger order of members, and larger armies. As such, Zeta is afforded the ability to be arrogant and for now, Avery must deal with the fact that Zeta does not respect him.

He looked at me, Ahnk said, of Zeta.

He is observant, Kun said, and, perhaps, one of the most dangerous Sith of all. I have seen Zeta as a leader of all Sith; I know he is capable of such. For now, he seems content to simply play his part and gather his resources, but be warned; you would be wise not to trust Zeta, or offer him your back. Show him respect. He is a formidable warrior, and a valuable ally.

He is our ally? Ahnk asked.

For now, Kun replied. The Eternal Rogue Order is an unpredictable beast; part of that is their leader, Recon Klain. He does not seem stable, and this worries me. Kun continued walking then, towards the steps leading down to the landing pad, and Ahnk continued to follow. We hold an uneasy truce with The Rogues, as well as the fledgling remnant in Bastion. But situations change rapidly, and we must always act to ensure that we are furthering our own interests, independent of any such alliances.

Galactic politics seem so complicated, Ahnk noted sourly. I prefer hand to hand combat.

Indeed, Kun said. Nonetheless, it is time for you to service The Brotherhood in dealings with those around us. Kun changed his direction then, heading away from the primary landing pad, and towards the docking hanger where he kept his own shuttles. The galaxy is currently in a state of flux. With The Republic in power, much of the dynamic of political power is not in how much force one can muster, but in how much force one can afford to draft. Competing corporations and banking clans are building in strength and, as happened during the Clone Wars, the wise empires are beginning to use them as pieces on the board. ERO and their Remnant allies have entered into discussions with Arliss Towers and the companies they represent. I believe it is time for us to secure our financial future as well.

You want me to go to the bank? Ahnk asked, with some measure of distaste.

No, Ahnk, Kun said, using the force to reach out and activate the docking bay doors. The massive, rusted steel began to slide back into the stone it was laid into, and the cold night air began to push into the docking temple, displacing the dust within. I believe it is time that we built a better bank. I want you to accompany Avery; he will say the words, you will wave the sword.

Ahnk did not understand entirely, but if it meant he would be allowed to attack, he felt confident it would be an enjoyable mission. Yes, My Master, he said, and followed Kun into the docking bay.






One must be careful when handling the box; once opened, it is not so easy to contain what was once within. – Unknown

For what does it profit a man if he gains the world, but loses his soul? - Old Religious Proverb





Bonadan…

VC HQ…

He stood above the world and coughed slightly. His empire… what was his empire… stretched out before him. This world… not a gem, or a jewel, but just a world… a half dead, overdeveloped world… was his claim to fame. His corner…. His empire…

The Vinda Corporation had it's origins in humble beginnings... he had taken the company from where it began, to where it stood now... a corporate empire spanning several worlds, with developments, and negotiations, in many sectors and disciplines. His influence was only growing, and business on Bonadon... well, business was good.

But it was not easy to do. One did not simply make profit; it wasn’t that easy. When one gained power, those who had power... took notice. Sometimes, they took offense. Sometimes, they took action.

The man on the balcony sighed. Turned his head back to the report…

“More taxes! Can you believe this?”

He said, fuming.

“They’ve actually levied an ‘Inspection Tax’! Which is paid in order to offset the costs of them inspecting our cargo… to ensure we’re paying all of the other bloody taxes!”

The man threw the datapad over the railing, letting it fall through the sky.

“They’re cheaters! Liars, puppet masters! I won’t stand for it… they’re just abusing their power to hold on to their pathetic little empire! It’s bullocks!”

The man in the office nodded his head. The man on the balcony stormed inside, and the other man ceded the way.

“We have…”

“We can’t just tolerate it,” he said, continuing his rant despite the man behind him. “It’s unlawful! There has to be a better way, a way to do business without them breathing down our necks.”

“Well, we can…”

“Oh, sure!” the man said, waving his hands, still on a rant. “We can go to The Republic, and ask them to levy for us… and for what good? The Authority is law around here! They’d just accuse us of violating some of their obscure labor laws and then bury us so deep in legal fees we’d choke to death. No, there has to be something else…”

“We do have…”

“We have the Remnant,” he said, musing. “But they’re already looking to set up their own empire… Muunilinst joining their New Order means they already have far more money than we could ever offer them!”

“Not ever,” the man said, and that made the older man at the desk stop. “You’re right; right now, we’re not the biggest around. But we’re bigger than we used to be, and Seth, I know you, and you’re not going to stop, no matter what The Corporate Sector Authority has to say.”

The man at the desk sat down. Considered what the other had said. Grinned. “You’re right, you know! Bloody well right you are! I’m not just going to sit here and complain! I’m Seth Vinda, damnit! I’ve faced these bastards before, and I am not just going to roll over now,” he said, slamming his hand into the desk in a show of resolve. “I knew there was a reason I hired you, Mr. Vega… certainly wasn’t for your looks.”

Vega said nothing but smiled slyly.

“Miles!” Vinda yelled. “Vega, where is that young Mr. Miles?”

“Off world, sir,” Vega told him. “Etti-IV, I believe. Negotiating to purchase some land there…”

“Ha!” Vinda said. The purchase of land on the capital of The Corporate Sector Authority had been Miles’ idea; a thumb of the nose to the authoritative, tyrannical regime. “Alright, well… let’s not just sit around! Let’s do something… let’s make a bold stand! Let’s make some bloody money!”

“About that…”

Vega said, and then trailed off. Seth was curious, so he stood up.

“Vega!” he shouted, and Vega turned to him. “What’s got you all clammed up?”

“Well, it’s Avery,” Vega said. “He sent us a message earlier, saying he is on his way here.”

“Oh,” Seth said, sitting down. A little of the color left his face, and he suddenly seemed more subdued. “Well, that certainly changes things…”

“There’s more,” he said, and Vinda raised his head. “He’s bringing someone with him… someone to conduct negotiations… face to face.”

“Oh…” Seth said. “What a… joyous occasion.”

He slumped down over his desk, all of his earlier depression returning.

The Sith were coming.





Ahnk Rashanagok was no longer a gait, scruffy haired youth.

His skin had turned black from the blood transfusion Kun had given him… a dark, thick slurry of organic material injected directly to the heart, the dark force energy contained therein twisting the cells of his body, changing the pallor of his flesh. To mark him, Kun had taken to his body with green paint, adorning the warrior with a web of symbols important only to The Sith… words no one could read.

His hair was gone.

His body was considerably larger, as Kun had forced him to turn himself into a warrior.

And he sat there, in that office, as testament to the ability of The Sith to manufacture warriors.

Seth Vinda and Achinta Vega both looked at him, unsure of what to make of him. Vega had seen him first, but Ahnk did not seem the talkative type; not uttering a single word to Vega, so Vega had little choice but to search him and then let him in. Ahnk made his displeasure clear when Vega began his search, but did not interfere, and when Ahnk stepped into Vinda’s office, he placed his lightsaber on the desk, letting his only weapon sit there, in a neutral position.

And then he continued to do as he had done with Vega; nothing.

He asked for nothing. And said nothing. He just sat, and looked. And looked menacing.

One of Vinda’s aids brought the hololight projector as he had asked for. The hologram of Avery appeared in the office, and Vinda turned to him. “Ah, Lord Avery,” Vinda began, “as you know we are always happy…”

“Do not waste my time, businessman,” Avery said, dismissively. “Before you is Ahnk. He is a member of The Brotherhood. My Master Exar Kun has asked that I bring Ahnk here so that you may… understand the perils of an arrangement with us. Honor the agreement, and we will both prosper. Break it, and Ahnk will be the last thing that you see. We will glass your worlds from orbit, but before we do, Ahnk will meet with you… personally. I trust that the message is clear.”

“Crystal,” Vinda said, turning to Vega with a frown. “This Ahnk… he doesn’t say much…”

No sooner had the words left his lips then did the table in front of Vinda go flying. Ahnk was on his feet and charging and Vinda barely had time to stand before Ahnk seized him. The desk shattered; Achinta Vega slamming his shoulders and arm through it, himself moving in a blur. It was hard to say which was faster, between the two protohuman men, but Vinda did not have time to study carefully before he was jolted against the wall, Ahnk’s forearm in his throat and Vega’s hands on Ahnk’s arm and neck.

“Avery!” Vega commanded. “If Ahnk…”

“If Ahnk wanted you both dead, he could have killed you purely with his sour disposition,” Avery said, unconcerned. “He is merely here to insure that you understand the consequences should you fail to live up to the bargains you make with me.”

Vinda locked eyes with Ahnk, and Ahnk’s eyes flashed.

Blink if you can hear me, Seth heard, though Ahnk had not spoken. Nevertheless, Vinda blinked. I grow tired of Avery, and intend to dispose of him. If you assist me, I shall ensure you are given everything you have ever desired. Seth fought to suppress the gasp, but again, he blinked. Good.

With that, Ahnk let Vinda go. Vega looked at him and Vinda nodded, and only then did Vega let Ahnk go. Ahnk sat back down in his chair as if nothing had happened, leaving Vega and Vinda to both look at each other, dumbfounded.

“Gentlemen,” Avery cut in, and both of them then stared at him. “My Master has offered me terms. I understand that you have some… differences of opinion with The Corporate Sector Authority, but that, currently, their fleet is more than sufficient to quell any insurgency you might attempt against them.”

“You are well informed,” Vinda said, still straightening up his tie. “However, we don’t want war… commerce is our goal here, at The Vinda Corporation.”

“Of course,” Avery said. “One does not always seek the wars one fights. We offer… preparation. You are aware that we hold the world of Lianna, not far from your base of operation.”

“We are,” Vinda said.

“There are six Brotherhood Of The Sith shipyards in orbit of Lianna,” Avery said. “You may use three of them to construct whatever vessels you may require… for purely defensive purposes, of course.”

Vinda blinked. “That is… a generous gesture. I wonder, what would be required to repay such a… generous gift?”

“We would ask that you do not encroach upon our holdings, namely, those in The Tion, and the Tingel Arm, beyond the holdings of the CSA…”

Vinda considered. “Our interest is primarily in the Corporate Sector. At this time, I see no need to encroach upon what you consider to be your space.”

Avery nodded. “Over time, it may be… fair… for you to turn over a certain percentage of your profits… as a token of appreciation for having such generous neighbours looking out for you…”

Vinda raised an eyebrow. “How large a percentage?”

Avery smiled. “I’m sure that can be worked out over time… if you offer too little, Ahnk may come and ask you for more.”

Vinda turned to the tattooed Sith and pondered in his head. “Your terms are not altogether unreasonable.” Ahnk blinked and then glared at Seth. Offer him a gift. Seth blinked, but didn’t feel it wise to disagree with him. “I think, perhaps we would like to offer you a gift, Mr. Avery, as is the tradition of forming a new partnership…” A ship. “A ship…?” Yes, a ship, and try not to sound so surprised. You will build Avery a ship, something befitting someone of his stature and power. “Well, Lord Avery, I think a fitting tribute would be to construct you a ship, something of the latest technology that would befit…”

“Very well,” Avery said, dismissively. “We will send over pertinent documents to your computers. Then we will inform the shipyards they are to be at your disposal. All mineral and labor costs will be yours to absorb, of course.”

“Of course,” Seth said, but he only half heard what Avery said… he was more focused on the tattooed warrior in the chair. He suppressed a shudder, suddenly feeling cold, and then turned back to Avery. “And we will, of course, calculate what scale of… donation… we can begin to prepare…”

“How generous,” Avery said, and then the hologram of him faded.

With Avery now gone, both men turned to Ahnk. The black and green decorated Sith rose, and pointed to the ruined remains of the desk.

“Did you… did you need something?” Vinda asked. Paper, Ahnk said, and Vinda nodded. “Uh… Mr. Vega, I believe Mr. Ahnk requires a piece of paper for… some reason…”

Vega nodded, and Ahnk stood. He reached out with his hand and opened his palm, and into it shot a short, thin piece of metal… Vinda recognized it as a letter opener. Vega gave Ahnk the piece of paper and Ahnk walked and pressed it against the wall with his off hand. He used his other hand to put the letter opener between his teeth, and then spun his hand around. He slid the flesh across the cold steel, and then touched his now bleeding palm to the paper, creating an impression of the arcs and loops of his hand onto the paper.

Then he turned to Vinda.

Vinda made no motion to move, so Ahnk frowned. Understand this, businessman. When you enter into an arrangement with The Sith, you make an oath. Blood is a term of that oath; you offer blood as a measure of trust and of understanding that if you break that oath, that blood will be the price. Vinda still hesitated, but then Ahnk pushed the letter opener out with his other hand. Remember that all things are equal, and for what you put in is what you are in turn rewarded. Your trust is our trust. And we are powerful allies to have. Seth considered that, and then took the letter opener.

Hesitantly, and grimacing as he did so, Seth opened a small wound across his palm. His was nowhere near as deep as Ahnk’s cut, but then Seth was not quite used to the absorption of pain as was the Sith. Reluctantly, and after casting a nervous glance at Vega, who dared not offer his opinion, Seth pressed his palm to the paper, adding a bloody handprint to it as well.

Ahnk almost seemed to smile then. He folded the paper and slid it under his robe. I will return to discuss specifics of the ship you are to build, Ahnk said silently, and then he turned. He stopped at the door, then turned to Vega. He stepped towards him and Vega stiffened, but Ahnk reached out and offered Vinda’s second a datapad. When Vega turned to Vinda, Ahnk did as well. Bill the replacement of the desk to me, Ahnk said, and then, once Vega had taken the pad, the Sith left the room.





Back on board Ntchwaidumela, Avery offered Ahnk a bow of his head.

“I must admit, Kun was right when he saw something in you,” he said. Ahnk did not reply. “You are very effective… for what you are.”

Ahnk did not look at Avery, and such was good, because Ahnk could no longer suppress his smile.

Avery had no idea what Ahnk was.

But soon, he would.





Back on Bonadan, the leader of the Vinda Corporation was back where he had started the day… the balcony, overlooking the city world on which he lived.

But for now, he did not look at the world below, but the stars above. The Sith flagship, a massive Eclipse-Class Star Destroyer, was now leaving the system the same way it had come. On board, three Sith, Lords Avery and Gwyneth Archer, and the apprentice, Ahnk, returned to their own corner of the galaxy. Vinda, in his corner, suddenly felt… somewhat entrapped.

“You know,” he mused, and Vega stepped outside to better hear the man over the distant din of the world below, “you know I think that Ahnk fellow wants me to help him murder Avery.”

Vega shook his head. “I didn’t hear him say a single word.”

“He talks without talking,” Seth said. He took a second to take a puff of his cigarra, breaking his concentration slightly. “It’s something they do, Sith, Jedi. Would be handy for certain business conferences for sure…”

“I see,” Vega said. That made sense. “Still… are you sure you should get involved with that? Getting Sith blood on your hands?”

“Ahnk would be doing the killing, I assume… he just wants me to help set the table, so to speak,” Vinda said. He took another long, slow drag. “It could be a worthwhile pursuit… afterall, having a Sith owe you a favor…”

“How would you go about calling in a marker on a Sith Lord?” Vega posed, and Vinda laughed.

“Now that, old friend, that is a very good point,” Vinda said. He sighed. “This is something I must put a lot of thought into… but, there is something about Ahnk that tells me that he is a man of his word… and that is something that has always bothered me about Avery, honestly… the man doesn’t seem trustworthy…”

“Isn’t that the nature of The Sith? Deceit, betrayal, and ruthless measures to claim, and lord, their power?”

Seth took another long drag. “Yes… yes, I suppose it is… still, maybe this is something new… the changing face of evil…”

“Speaking of faces,” Vega said, making reference to the face of the Sith that had been there.

“Yes, I’d noticed that as well,” Vinda said. “Must be some kind of pain indeed, having ones face tattooed like that… I think I’ll stick to the ankles and arms, thanks!”

“I never took you for the tattoo kind,” Vega said, and Seth chortled as he threw the remnants of his cigarra from the balcony.

“I tell you, Mr. Achinta Vega, there is much about a young Seth Vinda you…”

He trailed off, stopping abruptly in the doorway. Something had caught his eye and he walked towards it, almost transfixed. He pushed aside a broken piece of the desk and pulled out the shining, silver handle of a lightsaber, chuckling as he did so.

“I guess he must have forgotten it,” Vega said, and Vinda shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so… something tells me that Mr. Ahnk does not simply forget things…” Vinda said. He twisted the metal handle in his hands, feeling its weight and balance in his grip. “I believe this was Ahnk’s way of sending me another silent message…”

Vega pondered for a moment. “What message would that be?”

Seth smiled, and slid the saber underneath his jacket. “Mr. Vega, I want you to make sure that whatever deals we conclude with The Sith, and whatever money or services should exchange hands, is done so through untraceable fronts… establish front organizations and staff them as you see fit. This is very important Mr. Vega, for no one can know about our transactions with The Sith…”

Vinda said, and then softly smiled. “We can’t be leaving any lightsabers lying around…”