Osto grunted in annoyance as he took cover behind the remains of a computer station. While the blaster bolts peppering the station couldn’t pierce his armour, the sheer volume of them was enough that it was better to take cover and wait than stand and fire back. Mainly as while his armour would mostly keep him safe, his rotary cannon wouldn’t be so lucky, and he’d rather not have another weapon blow up in his hands, once was embarrassing enough for a lifetime.

Through the battlenet he knew Saxon was also taking cover, though the younger squad leader was behind a support pillar that, from what Osto’s sensors were telling him, wasn’t going to survive much longer against the amount of plasma being slammed into it. That was going to be a problem if the rest of their unit took much longer to secure the target.

“Kast, sitrep.” Saxon’s statement into the comms let Osto know that the squad leader realised how precarious his cover was becoming.

“Target located, though he’s…potentially incapacitated worse than was projected.” Kast’s reply came slow which wasn’t a good sign. While Osto wasn’t fond of the woman’s constant commenting – and teasing of the Kryze woman, though there Osto did agree that there was more to her relationship with Alor Cameron than she was willing to admit – he’d found her to be a solid, if unspectacular warrior. Something that he’d expected, given the reports from previous unit commanders from the war. To hear her hesitate on the target’s condition had Osto re-evaluating the need for alternate extraction plans.

“Tell Kryze to get him ready for transport, then get out here.”

“Understood.”

Saxon’s instructions left little room for countering, but Osto thought Kast sounded unhappy about having to obey. However, he knew she would as he’d seen her service record and knew she would follow Saxon’s commands.

A warning from his helmet sensors made Osto move and a second later something smashed into the console he’d been using for cover. At his size, scrambling from one cover to the next was never easy, but he quickly reached a new location with only a dozen or so bolts impacting his armour. His eyes widened as the sensors reported that a crate had not only hit his former cover but ripped most of the console apart. While he’d have survived such an impact in his armour, he’d have likely been trapped in the rubble and all but out of the fight. However, what concerned Osto the most was that while he could’ve lifted that crate – even without any assistance from his armour – he doubted he could’ve thrown it as far or as powerfully as it had been.

“Force users on the field.”

That helped Osto realise how the crate was thrown so far and so quickly. A glance towards Saxon showed he’d shifted cover as well. The support column he’d been using was still standing but was far too damaged to provide any protection and Saxon was now ducking down behind the remains of another station within the room. That station was sparking massively and the sounds of metal groaning against an invisible force carried to Osto’s helmet. Still, even if they were facing off against Force users, they were Mandalorians. The greater the fight, the higher the honour it brought.

As his helmet helped plot the angle for his throw, he unclipped a grenade from his belt. One finger depressed the arming mechanism before he pulled his arm back and launched the grenade at the optimal location. “Grenade!” His voice called out as the round object left his hand. He tracked the object's path with his sensors and while the throw wasn’t perfect, after a year of real combat he had enough training under fire to be close enough that it bounced where he wanted.

He smiled as the grenade left his visual sensors, though his smile fell as the grenade stopped mid-roll then started to move back towards him. He braced as it exploded and while his armour protected him from the sonic eruption, the pressurised wave it released sent debris flying around the room.

Grunting in annoyance, Osto shifted, getting ready to slide out from cover and let his cannon take care of the Force user only for a bolt to fly past his helmet. Unlike the previous bolts, this one hadn’t come from where the cultists were, and the battlenet confirmed his suspicion that Kast had re-entered the room.

“Target secure. Extraction route?” Kryze’s voice suddenly filled the unit comms. To Osto she sounded off yet the data coming from her armour didn’t suggest anything was wrong, barring perhaps an elevated heart rate.

“Clear for now. Force users are on the field.” Saxon paused as he ducked back into cover after firing off a few bolts from his rifle. “Can Shan fight?”

While Osto was annoyed at the idea they needed help from the person they’d been sent to extract, he understood that the best chance against one Force user was another. Alor Cameron was still a Jetii, and prone to the typical soft-hearted sentimentality of their group – something Osto had seen during his many reviews of the battle of Mandalmotors tower – but Osto couldn’t deny the prowess of Alor Cameron. The man had killed a beast as close as one could get to the legendary mythosaur for his verd’goten and defeated and killed Ebrn Awaud – someone Osto knew from experience was a very skilled fighter – in two on one combat.

“No. They…” Kryze’s voice raised about an octave and from the battlenet, Osto knew she’d had spikes in chemicals linked to her fear and rage.

“He was heavily tortured.” Kast supplied, saving Kryze who sounded unwilling to give details. Osto was now all but sure that Kryze felt something for Alor Cameron. His father had hinted at that being why Duke Adonai had sent his daughter with the Jetii, but until this moment, Osto hadn’t been certain of it. Still, until Alor Cameron left the Jetii – something his father felt was more likely than not – then nothing could come of it. Di’kute Jetii and their rules on marriage and relationships.

Saxon grunted into the comms as part of his cover exploded. “Fine. Kryze, on your mark get him to the elevator. The rest of us will cover you then execute a staggered withdrawal.” Osto accepted the plan as the best choice to take, even if it lacked originality.

The comms went silent, which was to be expected. The next time Kryze spoke the plan would be enacted. Taking the moment before carnage was unleashed, Osto switched over the charge pack for his cannon. While the current one was still at forty percent power, he’d had it drilled into him – through live-fire training and combat – that a full clip was always better. A quick scan of his armour by the inbuilt systems assured him that no part of it was in danger of failing, and while expected, he’d always verify before moving. He was not going to make the mistake he did on Vorpa'ya ever again.

“Execute.”

At Kryze’s word, Osto swung out from his cover, his cannon spinning into life and unleashing a torrent of blaster fire towards the nearest grouping of cultists. Bolts of plasma rained into the corridor, and Osto took satisfaction when three targets fell in the first two seconds. Through the battlenet he saw another four hostiles vanish even as Kryze moved slowly behind him. The vitals shared via the battlenet regarding Alor Cameron were… less than ideal, but with medical help the young warrior would survive this ordeal.

“Where are you going?” the words came from the corridor that Osto wasn’t firing into. “The Priestess still has need of you.” Osto felt a shiver rattle up his spine, as if it had suddenly grown harder to breath yet none of his internal sensors showed any change in atmospheric conditions.

A strange groan came from the column Osto had been using as cover, as if something was trying to pull it at the seams. Yet nothing was currently touching it.

“Cam!”

The pained scream from Kryze caught Osto’s attention and without lessening his rate of fire, Osto turned his head. The boy was naked, and while the signs of his torture were clear for Osto to see, the young man seemed unconcerned. Even before his sensors began to date the various scars that dotted the young man’s body, Osto’s attention was drawn to Alor Cameron’s eyes. They were ablaze with rage and malice and Osto thought for a moment he saw a hint of yellow within them.

Alor Cameron was stalking forward towards the other corridor, yet not a single incoming bolt was striking him. Osto realised that the younger man was using the Force to somehow guide the bolts to miss; either that, or that the cultists were such osik shots that they were missing worse than a child when they first picked up a blaster. The younger man’s knuckles were white with drops of blood dripping down, leaving a trail to mark his slow, enraged path.

The air grew even more restrictive and Osto had to gulp deeply to draw in a full breath as Alor Cameron’s pace picked up. The lights in the room and corridors began to flicker then spark before they shattered almost all at once, bathing everything in darkness. Thanks to his helmet, Osto could still see what was going on, though there were strange lines of interference crackling around the images being relayed to him. In that interference, Alor Cameron seemed to fade away, as if merging into the darkness that now engulfed the battlefield, only becoming visible for a moment as a bolt passed by.

A warning from his sensors drew his attention back to the corridor he was still firing into. There, two crates had started levitating into the air with each having someone nearby. Assuming those were the enemy Force users, Osto started shifting his aim, however before he could bring his cannon to bear, both crates started to shake then exploded.

Shards of remains were sent flying. The two suspected Force users were hammered by the shards so badly that, as several limbs were ripped off, they reminded Osto of images he’d seen of a pack of kath hounds tearing apart their prey. One piece made the chest of a cultist cave inward before erupting from the man’s back with such force that Osto’s sensors detected the man’s heart and lung skewered on the piece.

In less than a second Osto had gone from facing around a dozen cultists to two. Correction, one. Yet even as the last embers of life left that cultist, Osto was drawn back to Alor Cameron. The young man had surged forward, moving so fast that without his sensors, Osto would’ve been unable to follow the movement. A second later the young man was out of sight, and Osto was forced to track the younger man’s actions through the battlenet.

Alor Cameron had passed Saxon’s location before the unit leader could stop him, and Osto felt his eyes widen as the young man struck a cultist with such force that the far larger and older man’s head spun a full ninety degrees. The sickening sound of a neck being fractured filled Osto’s ears, yet Alor Cameron was far from done.

He drove an elbow into the chest of another cultist, caving it in from the force and soaking Alor Cameron’s arm in blood and guts. A flick of his wrist sent two more cultists flying upwards, impaling them on the shattered remains of the ceiling lights before the bodies seemed to crunch inward as if still being pushed upwards. That caused blood to fall on the corridor like rain, through which Alor Cameron continued to move.

“The priestsghb!” The words came from the same voice that had set off the young man, yet they fell into frantic garbles as Alor Cameron raised a hand towards the speaker. Osto felt his breath hitch as the battlenet sensors flickered around the outstretched hand. The strange flickering lurched from the fingers on that hand towards the man who’d spoken, engulfing him in blackness. Though it didn’t mute him, and a disturbing, twisted scream echoed from the same lips that moments before had caused Alor Cameron to snap.

The flickering blackness danced around the man as he fell to the ground, slashing, crushing and seemingly terrorising the man whose face was contorted in pain and fear; which was more unnerving to Osto than his sensors not understanding what was happening. Osto was briefed that these cultists were trained to resist pain and were all but immune to feeling fear, yet there was one spasming on the ground so terrified that no sound escaped his mouth.

A moment later the interference dissipated, and the charred, blackened remains of the man’s body twitched. Yet Osto didn’t need the battlenet sensors to tell him the man was dead, or soon would be. No being could survive… whatever that was.

Suddenly the downed, charred cultist reached out a hand for Alor Cameron, yet the hand stopped mid-thrust. The battlenet reported the hand started to shake then Osto gulped hard as the hand began to rip itself apart. The bones splintered, cracked, and rippled open the flesh around them. The cultist managed a barely perceivable groan, though Osto felt he would’ve screamed if he could’ve, before the hand bent back at an unnatural angle then imploded as if trapped in a trash compactor.

The man’s arm began to vibrate before the same pattern that had all but obliterated the hand started to travel up the arm. Bones fractured and then pierced the skin, bending themselves and what remained of the arm in abnormal ways. The shoulder soon followed before the process jumped to the legs.

“Me’shab.”

The faint curse carried over the comms and while it took Osto a second to realise that it was Kast that had spoken, he couldn’t find the urge to warn her about such comments in battle. What they’d just seen… he didn’t know what had happened, but by Manda, it was unnerving. He knew Force users were powerful and capable of many dangerous things, but this… this was unlike anything he’d ever come across.

Osto was broken from his disturbed fascination as the battlenet reported Kryze approaching Alor Cameron. Her heart rate was elevated – much as Osto suspected his was – and according to her internal sensors, she was both excited and disturbed by Alor Cameron’s actions. As she placed a hand on Alor Cameron’s shoulder, Osto realised that the charred man was probably the man who’d tortured the young man, though to make a Force user so enraged that they’d do this…

Then and there, Osto determined two things. One, the galaxy was better off with that man being dead and two, whatever it took, he would do his utmost to never ever have to see Alor Cameron so enraged again.

“Cam.” The all but whispered word came through the comm as Kryze spoke to Alor Cameron, yet Osto watched as the charred man’s legs were subjected to the same destruction as his arm had suffered. “Cam!” The second call from Kryze was louder and accompanied by a shake on the young man’s shoulder, but the revenge didn’t stop and Osto watched as the charred man’s legs were reduced to nothing more than fine paste. “CAM!” The third calling of his name was shouted, and she spun him around to face her.

…

A sharp intake of breath came from Bo-Katan as she came helmet-to-eye with Cam. Where before his eyes had been pained, now there was just rage. Pure, unbridled rage. From what she saw, she thought he would attack her, and she felt herself bracing for the attack to come.

She knew the others were watching through the battlenet and hoped Cam didn’t attack as, in this state, he’d rip through them all like they were nothing more than cloth. Her eyes flicked to the various wounds that littered his chest, arms and stomach. How they marred the lines of muscle that he’d started developing during their training sessions, though entropy from his captivity was evident throughout his body and she saw that the scars from his verd’goten hadn’t been damaged by the torment he’s suffered over the last few months. A glance at the rapidly dying man on the floor made her snarl, and if not for concern it would make matters worse, she’d have shot him then and there in the chest. Possibly until her power cell ran dry.

The blinking of his eyes as they ran over her helmet drew her full attention back to Cam. Seeing the fury in them start to fade, she took a risk. Slowly, making it clear she wasn’t trying to attack him, she moved her hands to her helmet and removed it. When her unaided eyes found his, the rage had retreated. It wasn’t gone, but instead pushed aside, as if her face was enough to help him regain control once more.

“Bo.” The words came out in a breathless whisper. She ignored the way her heart seemed to jump at hearing the need in his tone and stepped closer, catching his body as it fell as if the strings holding it had been cut.

“I’m here.” Slowly she sank to a knee, bringing him to the ground with her. Once he was resting on the ground, though without her support she doubted he’d be able to even sit, she spoke. “That… man. Was he…” words failed her as she tried to ask her question. Thankfully Cam understood and gave a weak, tired nod.

Before she knew what she was doing, she’d unholstered a pistol. The trigger stayed depressed as sheemptied the power cell into the body, not caring as her bolts began to strike the ground under and behind it, until all that remained of the man’s head was a melting pile of goop.

“He’s dead.” She said softly as she re-holstered her blaster. “Though if we don’t get moving, we’ll join him.”

Cam blinked several times, and slowly he seemed to regain control over himself. “Right.” He pulled free from her grip, something she wasn’t going to think about, and pushed himself to his feet. “We need…” he stumbled and leaned on the wall of the corridor for support.

She stood with him, doing her best to ignore the fresh blood seeping from various wounds on his body and how that was making her feel. They had a mission to complete, and that was all that mattered. Still, she wanted to make sure he was…

“Shan, can you walk?” the voice of Gar broke her thought train as he came close. From the battlenet she learnt that Rook and Ordo were holding the central room so they could withdraw through the elevator shaft. Cam looked at Gar, as if seeing him for the first time, then nodded slowly. “Good. We’ve got an extraction route ready. Follow…”

“No!” Cam’s voice was firm, a total mismatch to his condition. “We’re not leaving this place,” he continued as he pushed himself from the wall and stood as straight as he could. A wide grin spread on his face, one that excited Bo as it promised violence and destruction. “Not until I find the bitch that did this and burn her temple to the ground.”

“That’s not-” Ordo’s comment was cut off as Cam’s head snapped towards the much older and taller man. The rage that Bo had thought gone rushed back, almost as if daring Ordo to continue. At that moment Bo knew that whatever he wanted to do, she was going to help. She needed to help.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Each of Cam’s words was full of passion. He pivoted away from them and stumbled. Bo reached for him, but he stepped forward and kept his balance without her help. “This place is going down.” He stared into the corridor, and Bo wondered if he was using the Force to locate Master Dooku and whomever this Priestess was. Hopefully before he killed her, he’d let Bo have a piece of flesh. A moment later he moved towards the charred man’s body, or what remained of it after Bo had unloaded her power cell into it.

He stepped over the body without giving it a glance, then a gesture had a door open; one that the battlenet had indicated was sealed. Cam stepped inside, and after a signal in the battlenet from Gar, Bo followed. She stepped over what remained of the charred body and entered the small room. The only light source came from the far corner at a station. Bo stepped towards that as Cam leaned over a table on the other side. The console showed the insides of the various cells, which confirmed that about half a dozen contained other beings.

She moved closer and accessed her gauntlet computer. From that she interfaced with the console. While the files on it were downloaded – she needed to learn what had happened to Cam and she felt Master Dooku would want to as well – she worked to unlock those cells.

“What’s your plan?” The question came from Gar who had stepped into the room behind her.

“Do you have a layout of this place?”

“Yes. We downloaded a schematic on our way to free you.” A blinking light on her gauntlet let her know the files on the console had been downloaded and after unlocking the remaining cell doors and releasing the other prisoners from their restraints, she turned around. Cam had found his clothing and was slowly pulling a shirt over his head. While she couldn’t see his face, the slow, careful way he was moving made it clear he was feeling pain from his wounds.

Once the shirt was on, Cam looked over at Gar who was displaying a holographic map of the base. His eyes scanned it for a long moment before he spoke. “Take Rook with you to the power core. Find a way to rig an explosion that’ll take this place out.” As he explained he picked up his lightsaber, clipped it to his belt then collected his beskad. Bo watched as Cam ran one hand slowly over the sheathed blade, almost as if he was savouring having it back in his possession. As he slipped it back onto his belt, Bo saw a patch of red on his lower back. While the wound had reopened, Cam was ignoring the pain.

“We can do that, but what about you?”

Bo felt a shiver of excitement run up her spine at the smirk that came to Cam’s face at Gar’s question. Whatever he was going to do would be violent and she couldn’t wait to see what it was.

… …

“I’m going to kill the bitch that did this to me.” I knew I shouldn’t smile thinking about what I wanted to do to Vosa, but I did. With my Force connection weakened by the sith mask, and my Player Points still too low to engage Player’s Mind - though why I could access the Interface here but I couldn’t on Kidriff was an issue for another time - I wasn’t able to cut off my emotions. Then again, I knew I was drawing the Dark Side of the Force, and what I planned to do to Vosa, to keep myself going, so activating Player’s Mind would’ve been a problem.

A wave of excitement mixed with hints of desire echoed through the Force from Bo, but I ignored that. Kissing her as I had, while done to help me focus my thoughts enough to stay in control, would likely have confused the young woman. Later, once we were out of this place, I’d talk to her about it and explain my reasoning.

I felt a burning fury over what had happened to me and a desire for revenge bubbling away inside, but I needed to keep control. At least long enough to reach that bitch and fry her from the inside out. Yes, I knew this was the Dark Side mixing with my emotions, but after however long I’d been here, the need for vengeance was about the only thing that had stopped me from breaking and serving Vosa.

My fingers found the hilts of my lightsaber and beskad, and the familiar sensations of both helped me centre myself for a moment, but that was lost as I remembered Vosa had my necklace. I felt the Force swirling around me in anticipation of the chaos that was about to be unleashed, and while I knew that was dangerous to use, I was struggling to care.

“Main generators are two levels down.” Gar’s voice broke me from focusing on the whirling inferno of rage of the Force around me and I glanced back at his vambrace and the map it was projecting. “Our primary exit is here.” A point several levels above us blinked, which was followed by a second blinking light on our level. “The Jedi are engaged here to provide a distraction for our insertion.” I closed my eyes as I started to reach into the Force. “They are aware of us securing you and awaiting a signal to withdraw.”

Gar’s words drifted away as I sunk into the Force. There was no denying the Dark Side was strong here; the eddies and currents of pain, torment and fury cried out for me to use them to achieve my goal, and while I wasn’t against doing so, I was more interested in finding a familiar presence in the base. It didn’t take me long to brush up against Dooku’s mind; the cold, almost unfeeling nature of his thoughts was easy to pick out in the maelstrom of violence that was the Dark Side. Nearby I sensed Vos; who seemed to be brushing against the darkness and drawing some power from it, yet it was the third presence I sensed that instantly had my attention.

Vosa was close to Vos – at a guess, I suspected the two were engaged in a duel – with Dooku close but not involved. The darkness seemed to almost dance around Vosa, savouring her carnage, yet I didn’t let myself focus on that. No, I wanted to know where she was, and how easily I could get to her.

I gripped the hilts of my weapons tightly, drawing what control I could from them to avoid doing something stupid. For an instant, I considered teleporting, but the hidden depths of the Dark Side, and memories of what had happened when I’d tried to do that on Kidriff, were enough for me to retain enough sanity to not attempt it.

I opened my eyes, and struggling to push aside images from the Force of what I’d do to Vosa once I got her, I looked at the two Mandalorians. “Once the charges are set, signal Dooku and withdraw. If you don’t hear from us in thirty, blow this place to hell.”

Without waiting for a reply, I pulled the Force to me. The world seemed to slow down as I rushed forward, faster than most beings could hope to track, and drew on the promises of the Force to empower my actions. The Force bent to my will, and as I moved down the corridor, I saw a group of cultists blocking my way.

The Force sang for me to remove them, to make them pay, but my focus was on Vosa. I barely paid attention as my saber sang in my hand leaving smoking corpses in my wake. The Force seemed to sing in delight at what it was sensing, but all I cared about was finding Vosa, and fucking her up for what she’d done to me.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …

Some distance away from Cam and the Mandalorians, two lightsaber-wielding figures were moving around each other; the large cathedral-like chamber they were in was already bearing signs of the opening salvos of their combat. Both moved with such grace that most beings would consider it beautiful, if not for the fact each wished to kill the other.

A shrill laugh came from Komari Vosa as one of her blood-red blades swatted aside the downward swing of Quinlan Vos’s green blade. She pivoted with ease, avoiding a follow-up thrust from Vos, then, after trapping his blade against the floor, sending him tumbling away was a blast of Force energy.

She continued to laugh as Vos flung himself back to his feet. “I expected more from a Jedi!” Vos surged forward, the Force allowing him to move faster than most could imagine, but Vosa was more than his equal, and as to a normal eye, Vos became nothing more than a green blur, Vosa parried his blade away with centimetres to spare, contemptuous laughter erupting from her throat .

“So aggressive! How unlike a Jedi!” The comment was accompanied by another chuckle as she pushed Vos’s blade aside with almost contemptible ease then a flick of her wrist sent the tip of her blade searing across his pectoral. “Though just as predictable.”

Vos snarled in anger and drove his free hand forward. The fist caught Vosa on her forearm, though while it was enough to force her back, it didn’t make her lose the grip on the lightsaber in that hand. Yet, instead of being annoyed at being struck, Vosa threw her head back – taking her eyes off her opponent – and laughed loudly.

Vos seized the opportunity and came at her, his blade going through the motions of Sai Tok, yet before it could do more than heat her arm as it got close, Vosa leapt. The Force allowed her to vault high into the air and she landed with the gentleness expected of a Force user on a nearby table; sending a rippling wave of Force energy outward.

“And now you strike a lady? How far have the Jedi fallen?” Once more she laughed as if it were the funniest thing to her, while Vos and many objects in the room were sent tumbling away.

Vos grunted as he landed, having used the Force himself to control his tumble so he landed on his feet, sinking to a squatting position to launch himself back towards Vosa. However, before he could, Vosa was upon him.

Her blades moved chaotically, and while he could see some of the grace of Makashi in her movements, there were holes that, if he were just a bit faster, he could exploit. His blade swept up blocking both the thrust as well as the downward strike. That brought her blades off centre before his other hand shifted forward to release a force push.

Vosa stumbled back, her blades disengaging from his. Seeing an opportunity, Vos surged forward, his blade already moving up to, if not end her, then at least remove one of her arms. Yet, just before his blade reached her skin, her arm moved. He felt the barriers that all Force users held around themselves crumple a millisecond before he was sent hurtling back by the Force as it bent to Vosa’s command.

Again, he called the Force to him and used it to alter his trajectory. He landed in a crouched position, and glided back about a metre, sending some chairs scattering as he slid through them, before stopping. He looked up to see Vosa standing still, her blades at her side in positions that had little defensive use and a wide, deranged toothy smile on her face.

“Come now Jedi, surely you can do better than that!” Vosa’s taunt echoed around the chamber. “Even the boy you’ve come all this way to try and rescue fought with more passion!” Vosa’s eyes seemed to sparkle with dark energy. “Though seeing your performance now, I understand why the Twi’lek was so lacking on Kidriff. Once I’m through with you, I’ll have to find where you stashed her and educate her properly.”

Vos snarled again, his protective instincts regarding Aayla flaring at the threat Vosa had levelled towards his Padawan. He rushed forward, the Force enhancing his every step. The air seemed to ripple as he pulled more and more of the Force into him, channelling it into his attack; seemingly unconcerned for the moment about the dangers of the Dark Side as it vibrated throughout this place.

Vosa surged forward to meet him, her deranged smile growing as her blades trailed behind like two fiery wings. Hysterical laughter echoed through the chamber as they both leapt high into the air, the Force propelling them far above what most beings could naturally achieve.

Vos gritted his teeth as his blade clashed against Vosa’s. He started to twist, planning to run the green plasma down her blade and remove her fingers only for a hot, blinding pain to sear across his midsection. Vosa landed with grace and skill even the most highly skilled dancers would envy, her blades twirling as she pivoted with incredible control. Vos, however, clattered to the floor. His lightsaber ripped from his grip as he bounced across the floor then slammed back-first into a wall. A hand shot to his stomach, feeling the tender flesh where Vosa had cut him. It wasn’t deep, but it was painful and would limit his movement going forward.

“Pathetic!” Vosa hissed, her tone dripping with disgust. “Unworthy of a Jedi.” Vos ignored the words and summoned his lightsaber to him. One hand stayed over his stomach as he forced himself upright and readied for Vosa’s next attack.

Vosa stalked towards him, her blades lazily scorching the ground as she approached. Vos shifted his stance. With his wound, his preferred Ataru would be difficult, thus he slid into a simple Soresu opening stance. Master Tholme had taught him the basics, which he hoped would be enough to give him a chance against the deranged dual-wielding lunatic Makashi practitioner stalking approaching him.

His blade moved, the Force warning him of the danger well before one of Vosa’s blades thrust towards him. It was knocked aside with contemptuous ease, and the sting of pain from his stomach was ignored as he drew on the Force to negate his pain. Another lunge, almost lackadaisical, was pushed aside, as was a third attack. Vos wondered what Vosa was up to as she had shown far more skill just moments before.

“Sloppy.” The single word dripped with contempt though Vos couldn’t dwell on it as the Force warned him of yet another attack. He shifted his stance, knocking the low thrust aside, then flicked his wrist, hoping to catch Vosa across the face. Sadly, Vosa knew it was coming and his blade sailed millimetres from her nose, only slicing a few loose strands of hair from near her brow.

Before he could correct his stance and resume his defence, one of Vosa’s blades slammed into his just above the hilt. It slid down, and after forcing Vos to remove a hand or lose it, the red blade burnt through the durasteel hilt of the green blade, extinguishing it.

Vos moved as best he could to avoid Vosa’s other blade as it sped towards him, intent on bisecting him from head to waist. However the blade still found its mark and he hissed in pain as a burnt gorge, half a metre long and deep enough to expose the bones of his ribcage formed on his chest.

He fell back, leaning on the wall behind him to keep his balance, trying not to look at the psychotic pleasure covering across Vosa’s face. He knew he’d lost, that he’d failed both Padawan Shan and Aayla, and as Vosa stepped closer, the light of her twin blades gave her a strange, almost deranged beauty, which was an odd thought for one about to die. He could only hope that Master Dooku would avenge him.

Vosa felt her opponent’s fear; could taste the realisation that he’d lost, and she revelled in it as she stepped closer, ready to pounce. Her blades were poised to strike, to snuff out this pathetic Jedi’s life. She let the moment stretch, savouring every second of the slowly building anticipation. Wanting to enjoy this moment before she returned to her…

“VOSA!”

She faltered, both her blades sliding forward and burning new, deep marks on the Jedi’s torso, then turned. At the far end of the chamber, dressed in simple clothing was her newest, and soon to be greatest, disciple. At one side the black blade, which called to the darkness within her, bathed him in eerie flickering shadows and light, which was repeated faintly on his other side by reflection of the lightsaber’s light on the metal beskar blade.

She closed her eyes and could almost taste the Dark Side flowing around him. He wasn’t shying away from it like the wastrel in front of her. No, he was drawing it into him, demanding its obedience. Yet for all the power radiating from him in the Force, Vosa could tell he hadn’t yet committed fully to the truth. Hadn’t entirely embraced the limitless potential of the Dark Side once it was subjugated to one’s will.

She stepped forward, savouring the delicious rage radiating from the boy, only for her face to erupt in surprise. Barely able to realise it before it happened, her defensive barriers were ripped asunder, and she was sent hurtling to one side. In mid-air, she bent the Force to her will and landed in a crouch. Anger flared as she gazed back at the barely living Jedi who’d attacked her, breaking her enjoyment of Shan’s rage. She stood, and stalked forward, planning to finish the Jedi once and for all, only for the Force to whisper to her in warning.

Faster than she’d expected, Shan was upon her. Her blade closest to him came up in a hasty block, though she had to grit her teeth at the power behind the strike. He’d closed on her faster than she’d seen him move before and struck with more force than the pathetic Jedi Knight had managed. The metal blade thrust forward, but she avoided it with a half-pivot then leapt away, generating distance between her and Shan.

The signs of his education over the last two or so months were seeping through his clothing in places, staining the dull brown of the clothes a dark, sinister black, yet what caught Vosa’s attention were two things. First, as she easily avoided a wild, if powerful, swing, there was little to no form to Shan’s attacks. Though that was to be expected as he hadn’t yet learnt how to channel the delicious power the Force granted once you brought it to heel.

The second was his eyes. They were still that alluring amber-green, but Vosa saw brief moments where faint dots of red or yellow flickered in the depths. It impressed Vosa that even in his weakened state, the boy was fighting against grasping for the true nature of the Force. She smiled and licked her lips. All it would take is some gentle, targeted prodding and he would be hers.

“Such poor form.” The words glided from her lips as she arrogantly swatted aside a flurry of rapid, powerful yet uncontrolled attacks. “What would Master Dooku say?”

She drank the anger that flowed from him at her mocking, though any enjoyment of it was lost as she felt the Force shift before she – and many other things including the downed Jedi – were sent tumbling away as a massive burst of Force energy rippled outwards from Shan. When her tumble stopped, she found herself at the base of the stairs that led to the main doors of the chamber. The pain she’d felt from the attack pleased her, invigorated her, as did the raw, untapped power she sensed in the young man.

Shan rushed towards her screaming in rage, not stopping to check on the downed – but still living, if just barely – Jedi. His blades were raised, ready to attack with overwhelming power, but it was horribly telegraphed and Vosa could already judge how he would attack. As the metal blade came towards her, she leapt, pushed off the rapidly moving blade, and executed a perfect spin and pivot in mid-air; landing with a grace a galactic gymnast would never be able to achieve right in front of the doors.

Shan’s beskad had cut through the air while his lightsaber had left a long, deep glowing gash in the stairs. Later, once she’d resecured him, one of her minions would have to repair that – and the other damage done to this room – but for now, it was a minor inconvenience.

Shan charged up the stairs, still blinded by his rage and Vosa grinned widely in delight. The young man would be her perfect follower and consort. With his power attached to her own, she’d be able to strike out against the Pykes and Black Suns, and make that Zabrak on Cog Seven pay for toying with her. She’d…

Her ecstasy at imagining what she’d do with Shan under her control ended as an old yet familiar presence came to her senses. She evaded an attack from Shan, smacking aside his blades with ease before sending him crashing back down the stairs even as a figure marched through the chamber from the far end. Her former master, still as calm and controlled as ever, was nearing. Vosa snarled as she felt a flicker of concern from Dooku towards Shan; something he’d never shown for her in all her years worshipping him.

For a moment she considered facing him, but a grunt from Shan dispelled her of that notion. Against Dooku alone, she knew she’d need all her focus to survive, but with an unstable and insanely powerful Shan around, she wouldn’t survive. No, it was better to fall back, and take her prize with her. Better to finish his education first, then they could strike down Dooku together; breaking him mentally and physically as his former apprentices defeated him.

“Is that all you have to offer, child? Wild swings and unfocused rage?” She tutted dramatically even as a flick of a finger sent the large doors behind her swinging open. “I expected so much more from you.”

As she hoped, Shan snarled and leapt at her. She flipped back, somersaulting down the corridor and out of the chamber, laughing maniacally as Shan chased after her, his blades swinging frantically in his attempts to strike her down.

As Shan stepped through the doors, Dooku stepped into the chamber from the far side. He’d been sensing the rage of his Padawan for a while now, but seeing the blind fury in the young man’s movements saddened him. He rushed through the chamber, avoiding the chaos that had been unleashed here, only to stop as he felt Vos in the Force. Turning he saw the younger Jedi hunched over an upturned chair, small groans sliding from his lips.

Vos was clearly in bad shape, and as the younger Jedi rolled onto his back – eliciting a longer, deeper groan – Dooku saw the extent of the injuries. Vosa had, as Dooku expected, been far too competent a combatant for Vos. Wounds littered the younger man’s chest with the most severe were the twin cuts that had raked Vos’s stomach. It was clear to Dooku that if Vos was not given immediate treatment, his fellow Jedi would join with the force earlier than he would wish for.

There was a moment when Dooku considered just leaving Vos to his fate. If the younger Jedi had listened to him earlier and not rushed off from the hangar, he likely wouldn’t now be lying on the ground close to death and he was worth far less in Dooku’s assessment than Cameron. However, with more time to consider it, Dooku saw an opportunity. One that would allow him to test Cameron and determine just how skilled the young man had truly become. It was a risky move, and certianly one that Master Fay and other Jedi would disapprove of if they understood his reasoning, but they were simply too weak and narrow minded to push the newer generation of Jedi as was needed.

There was no doubt that Cameron had suffered greatly during his time under Vosa’s “tender” care, and while Dooku had felt the Dark Side moving around Cameron, he hadn’t fallen to it irrevocably. Chasing Vosa would further that risk, but, and putting aside a desire Dooku had to help Komari recover from her time with – and leading – the Bando Gora, it would act as an excellent moment to examine how Cameron behaved while enraged beyond reason. No matter which choice Cameron made, killing Vosa to soothe himself or sparing her it would teach him something vital about his padawan.

All in all, this was a suitable challenge for the man Dooku felt would be able to continue his story when, however far away it may be, his time to hand the reins over to another came.

Settling on his choice, Dooku knelt beside Vos. The Force was difficult to use for healing, something made worse due to Dooku’s lack of inclination towards the ability, but Dooku was able to convince the Force to do as he wished and channelled it into the Kiffar’s body. For many even attempting to use the Force to heal in a place as badly twisted by the Dark Side would be impossible, but Dooku had long ago steeled his mind against the worst elements of what the Dark Side could do and had no issue with bending the errant behaviour of the energy field to his will.

“Master Dooku.” The voice came from somewhere to his right, and without stopping his channelling of the Force into Vos, the aged master turned to see two of the Mandalorian strike team; Mister Ordo and Miss Kryze. Both had their helmets on, yet Dooku could sense a faint hint of annoyance from the first and strong concern from the latter. “Where’s Cam?”

The question came from Miss Kryze and held very distant hints of fear and yearning. Dooku was aware of the blossoming interest the young lady held in Cameron, and Cameron held towards her in turn, even if they weren’t acknowledging it. Still, he would have to ensure nothing came of it. Distractions such as that ran the risk of making Cameron stray from the path Dooku wanted him to follow; not to mention it would limit the fallout when dealing with the High Council regarding Cameron’s adventures over the last few years.

“He has engaged Vosa. They exited through the large doors to my left.” His attention had already returned to Vos before he replied as the matter of what the Mandalorians did was barely worth his time. He respected them, yes, but they were little better than the best of the normal elements of the galaxy, and thus far beneath one such as him.

A violent ripple in the Force came from the direction of Cameron – Dooku was tracking his Padawan’s movements through the Force as best he could while trying to stabilise Vos’s life – but it wasn’t a surprise to the wise Jedi master. He had a decent idea of the torture Cameron would’ve endured at the Bando Gora’s hands, so if there were no hints of anger within him, Dooku would’ve been far more concerned than he presently was. Still, once the duel was over, Dooku would ensure Cameron received a long discussion on how to temper and focus that rage. The last thing Dooku desired was for the High Council and the other fools in the Order to decide Cameron was a danger to the galaxy and seal him away somewhere like the Prism.

Miss Kryze had started moving even before Dooku had finished. The Ordo heir moved to follow, only to stop. Dooku sensed something near his shoulder and looked to see the armoured hand of the large man there, a small pile of bacta patches in it.

While the Force could do a far more efficient job of healing a sentient, Dooku was not going to turn down the help; particularly since healing was not one of his specialties. Giving the large, armoured man a nod of thanks, Dooku took the patches then Mister Ordo.

“Master Dooku. Shan gave orders for this base to be destroyed. I suggest you remove your fellow Jetii as soon as you are able.” Mister Ordo’s tone was polite but curt; something Dooku appreciated. After a year of being around Miss Kryze, he had almost forgotten that not all Mandalorians were as outspoken as her. “We’ll do what we can to help Shan, then rendezvous at the Ne’tra Sartr.”

Dooku gave the man another nod. “Very well, but try to take Vosa alive. She may have information critical to an investigation I am working on with my Padawan.”

After giving Dooku a look that radiated confusion, Ordo moved off after that and while Dooku doubted the pair of warriors would be of any help to Cameron against Komari, he would rather they were doing that than bothering him as he worked to stabilise Vos. He picked up the first patch and placed it over one of the smaller burn grazes on Vos’s body. Komari, for all her failings over the last few years, was just as skilled with a lightsaber as he remembered, though it did appear she’d taken her time removing Vos from the fight.

A small, emotional part of him wanted to stand and head after the Mandalorians. The only one that mattered was Cameron. However, Dooku had made his choice to use this moment as an educational situation and he would stick to it. Now just to ensure Vos was stable enough to be withdrawn from the field before they were either discovered by a distracting force of cultists or the entire complex came down around them.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …

My lightsaber whipped around, powered by my rage-fuelled muscles, trying to decapitate the blasted banshee that was the source of all my suffering. However, just like most of my previous attacks, she dodged it with ease and laughed in my face. My vision blurred, focusing only on her, and I lunged and thrust my beskad forward, however, she leapt high, avoiding the sharpened edges of the weapon, twisted and came down about five metres away from me.

“Far too slow young one.” Her voice teased as the deranged smirk that never left her face tormented my failings. “Come now, you can do better.”

I flew at her, making the Force do as I wanted and speed me forward as much as it could. “I’ll show you better!” My voice dripped with venom as I closed the distance between us in an instant. My lightsaber cut low, trying to cleave her in half while I readied my beskad to remove her head.

Vosa slid back, my blade coming teasingly close to her only to miss and slice through a support column for the walkway we were on. Vosa stumbled, her smirk slipping for a second. I thrust my beskad forward, aiming for her eye even as I reversed my lightsaber to bring it back towards her midsection.

I felt a thrill of excitement and a desire for more as the very tip of my blade caught her cheek. The wound wasn’t deep, but the red of her blood stood out like a shining beacon against her ghostly white skin.

Yet. Instead of being angry, my blow only increased her joy. She laughed even as I was forced back by a blast of Force energy. As I regained my stance, she lifted a finger to her cheek, examined the blood then licked her finger clean. “That’s more like it!” I didn’t know if that was meant to encourage or torment me, but all I wanted was to kill her and remove that infuriating voice from the galaxy forever. “Can you taste the power? The excitement? Can you?!” Her final words dripped with anticipation.

The Force whispered warnings, but I kept my focus lasered in on Vosa, only for something to slam into my back. I stumbled forward. Pain seared up my arm but I held my beskad tight. The pain faded, merging into the rage burning brightly in my chest and searing my veins, driven by my desire, my need, to gut this woman and make her pay for everything that had happened to me.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

I lunged, both blades seeking her chest. She deflected them easily with a single red blade then drove her elbow into my head.

Again, I stumbled backwards, my back hitting the railing of the walkway. I struggled to stop myself from falling, from losing distance towards my goal, only for the Force to send me tumbling over the railing. The Force rallied around me, but quickly enough before I fell to the ground below. I heard something metallic clatter against the floor, and as I stood up, I realised I’d lost my grip on my beskad. I stepped towards it, only to pause as another demented laugh took all my attention

“Oh, I hope that didn’t break.” Vosa landed on the floor nearby, though not close enough I could instantly attack her. “Is it important?” I snarled and turned towards her, both hands now gripping my lightsaber tightly. “Oh, it is. Well, you can tell me about it once we’re finished.”

She flicked her wrist and a door behind her slid open. Fury at seeing my quarry escape burned through my veins. No way was this bitch getting away. I surged forward, only to be met by another round of demented laughter.

Grasping my lightsaber in both hands, i roared at her, then swung it round with the desire to remove her head, but my blade found nothing but air as she somersaulted back. I kept swinging as I chased her, even as we passed through the door. Every swing was a miss, and as the smell of burnt metal filled my nostrils, each miss added more fuel to the fire of my fury, as did the continual, enraging laughter of the bitch I wanted, needed to kill.

I kept up my assault but she evaded with contemptuous ease. Now not even using her blades to defend herself. Time slipped away as did everything around us. All that mattered was landing a strike, then two, then more until every single inch of her pasty white body was charred from my anger. I would have my vengeance!

I almost fell over as, for the first time that I could remember, she stopped dodging my attacks. Instead, one of her lightsabers flared to life and swatted aside my latest falling avalanche. The blade blurred and I felt a niggling pain surge from my left side. I ignored it. Nothing mattered but taking this deranged bitch down.

Her smile grew wider, seeming to split her face. My next attack was again blocked before a searing pain flared on my right thigh. Another attack, another wave of pain, this time from my right shoulder. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was her, and impaling her; watching her life drain into the darkness of my blade.

“Yes! That’s it!” She sang almost deliriously. “Savour it! Feel it coursing through your veins, bending to your will. Come at me. Embrace me!”

“Fuck you!” My shouted curse was accompanied by a swing that missed and made me stumble forward. Something metal smacked against my skull, but it didn’t bother me. The pain, the rage, was making me faster, stronger. They were making me more able to kill this whore!

Vosa’s blade thrust forward, and I moved to smash it away. However, she shifted her wrist and stepped into my guard, and the hilt came down hard on my forearm. Pain vibrated up my arm and my grip slackened, but I didn’t, I wouldn’t lose my weapon. Furiously, I slammed that forearm towards her, then savoured the groan of unexpected pain that slipped from her lips as my attack found paydirt.

I couldn’t enjoy the moment though as a new burst of pain from my other wrist made me hiss. Something hard slammed into the other hand and I felt my lightsaber slide from my grasp. My blood boiling at her taking the instrument of her death from me, I leapt forward.

She moved to avoid it, but as I flew past I managed to get one arm to slide over her chest. That was enough to alter my movement, and as I spun in the air my other arm swung around her neck. My hands found each other and I yanked them towards me.

A pained gasp came from her, making my blood sing, as my clasped hands dug into her throat. She stumbled back even as I latched my legs, caught the back of her knees and continued to yank back with my hands. As she fell, I twisted to one side. I smiled viciously as she hit the ground face-first, and before she could recover, my legs slid around her waist and I tightened the chokehold I had on her.

She rolled and I slammed into the hard ground, but I wasn’t going to let go. We bounced down something, sharp edges jagging into various parts of my body, but I used those flares of agony to fuel my grip.

An elbow slammed down on my knee even as something hit my head hard. My legs unlocked and she slid her arms under them, yet I kept the choke as tight as I could. Our roll ended with her on her knees, I tried to plant my feet to gain more leverage, but she swiped at them and as I slipped, she stood.

My chokehold slipped, but I didn’t let go even when she rushed forward. I felt the Force move around us then blare a warning at me. I couldn’t react though as Vosa turned mid-run and I was slammed shoulder-first into a wall. My hold broke, one of her hands grabbed a wrist and I was slammed once more into the wall. I slumped to the floor, my body groaning in protest at the abuse it had just taken on top of the eruptions of pain I’d been feeling since I’d been freed.

A foot slammed into my gut, driving what little air was within from my lungs, and I doubled over in pain.

“Such aggression, such passion.” I couldn’t see her face, but I could hear the contempt and teasing in her tone. “How unbecoming of a Jedi.” I pushed myself forward, trying to leap at her feet, but she avoided my pathetic attack with a simple hop back.

Her infuriating, mocking laugh echoed in my ears. My blood boiled; my vision blurred. I snarled, planted my hands on the ground, and then pounced. She leapt back, soaring over a table I’d missed. I roared at her escaping my clutches once more.

Suddenly I was lifted off my feet. My back exploded in agony as I was slammed back into the wall.

“And still you want to fight. How utterly delightful.” Her voice fuelled my rage and I looked up at her, finding nothing but her in the room. “Still, I think we need to end this little dance and leave. Our former master is approaching, and your education is not yet complete.”

A wail in the Force demanded I not let her leave and I howled. The Force rushed towards me, having no choice but to submit to me, before erupting out in a wave of pure hate.

I lost sight of Vosa as the table between us was shattered. She reappeared a moment later as the shards enveloped her. She hissed in pain as splinters and shards of wood embedded themselves in her skin. The hiss of pain was greater than anything I’d ever heard before, making my heart beat faster in delight.

The smile that had been on her face since I’d started trying to kill her slipped, replaced by a sneer. “That… will require discipline.” Her snarled comment only made me smirk at her.

The force shifted, moving around her, as behind her, with my laser-focused vision easing as I savoured her pain, I saw two figures approaching. Something felt familiar about them, or at least the shorter one.

A quick shake of my head cleared more of my Vosa-centric rage or at least disrupted it enough that I realised the two figures were Mandalorians, with Bo leading the larger warrior. Bo’s pistols were drawn, aiming in my general direction, though I had to assume they were for Vosa and not me.

Vosa started to turn, likely having seen my shifted focus, just as Bo opened fire. Blaster bolts raced towards Vosa, who lifted a hand. Likely she was going to use the Force to deflect them. In that moment, with my brain able to process just a little close to normal, I saw a chance.

A flick of my hand sent the remains of the table flying back at Vosa. She easily blocked it with the Force and glared at me in annoyance. However, as I’d hoped, that left her distracted and the first of Bo’s bolts slammed into her shoulder.

Vosa was sent spinning, crashing into the floor. A wave of ecstasy raced through me as her head bounced hard off the ground; though that was replaced with a renewal of my rage at not being the one who’d caused her that pain. She was mine to hurt, mine to maim, mine to kill.

And it seemed as if I’d get that chance as while seemingly stunned, Vosa started to rise. Bo unleashed another volley of blaster fire at her, with several rounds slamming into the former Jedi and it was at that point I noticed the bolts were blue instead of yellow, meaning Bo was stunning Vosa instead of outright killing her. A part of me was confused by this even as my emotions soared in delight that Bo was granting me the honour of the kill.

Vosa, unable to block all the bolts in time, was driven to the ground in a heap.

I stepped forward, wanting to finish off Vosa before she could recover, only to stumble and fall to the ground on a heap. I groaned as pain erupted throughout my body, where once it had pushed me on, it now was bringing me down.

Bo slid to a stop nearby, a forearm running over me as the lights on her vambrace’s computer illuminated her helmet. “You ois’kovid! You’ve ripped open most of your wounds!” Her tone was a mix of anger and worry and her diagnosis was confirmed as more and more of my body wailed in anguish from the fight I’d just had.

I glanced over at Vosa. The large Mandalorian was cautiously approaching her unmoving body with his rotary cannon aimed her way, making me chuckle. Though that only resulted in new ripples of torment surging through my body. “Better tha…” My words trailed off, and the well of fury within me was reignited, as I saw Vosa’s chest rise and fall.

I snarled, enraged that she was still alive, and pulled myself forward; all but crawling towards that bitch. I felt a hand on my shoulder, but I shook it off. All that mattered was killing the monster responsible for what I’d endured.

I lifted a hand, feeling the Force contract around her throat even as my fingers shook; unable to stay still at the rage and pain fighting for control of my limbs. Delight flooded my mind as I saw her faintly gasp, trying desperately to draw in air, and then her body spasmed.

I tightened my hold, crushing her larynx and destroying her throat. A high unlike any I’d ever experienced surged through me as I felt her life slowly ebb away under my actions.

This bitch was going to die by…

… …

----------------------------------------

… … (Date ~1-2 weeks after rescue. 23-30 weeks since start of arc)

I jerked awake.

Air flooded into my lungs, forced there by a mask of some kind over my eyes. My movements were slow as I felt something pushing against my skin. For a moment I struggled, worried I was once more imprisoned by the Bando Gora and that crazed bitch, but as I opened my eyes and saw I was in a greenish liquid of some form, and felt the Force touching my mind, I relaxed.

Quickly I realised I was all but naked in a tank of what I assumed was bacta as, even with a mask over my mouth and eyes I could taste the familiar sweetly sour flavour of the almost wonder chemical. How I’d gotten here wasn’t entirely clear, though I felt safe in assuming that Dooku, Bo, and the others had carried me from the Bando Gora base before it’d been destroyed.

Whatever was outside the tank was distorted through the thick liquid, similar to looking through a stained glass window. There were some lights and the room appeared to be well-lit and coloured white. A shifting shadow accompanied a familiar sensation as my mind touched that of Fenrir’s. Reaching out into the Force, I felt other familiar presences. Dooku and Bo were nearby, as were Gar, Rook, and the fourth Mandalorian – or at least I assumed it was him given the mind I was sensing felt similar to the other Mandalorians – and just beyond that were others.

I frowned as I felt Anakin close by. That suggested that either we were on the Lokella station – which felt like a strange choice – or he’d sensed what had happened and come to wherever I was. Without any other strong Force presences nearby, I was fairly certain I wasn’t at the Temple, which with Anakin nearby, was a major relief.

I reached out to Dooku, letting him know I was awake, and he responded that I should heal up and relax in the bacta tank. Once the medics were certain I was healed, they’d let me out and he promised we’d talk. That made me realise that I needed to review my escape, but before I did that, I dealt with a quest completion notice in the Interface.

Quest Completed!

Fallen Apprentice [ƍ] [֍] [¤]

Objectives:

:a: Locate and capture Hean Castim [Yes]

:b: Secure slaver base in the Tantajoc system [Yes]

:c: And locate details of major Bando Gora operation [Yes]

:d: Either secure Bando Gora operation on Kidriff [No]

Or determine the fate of Komari Vosa [Yes]

:e: Either discover a way to escape capture by the Bando Gora [No]

Or survive until a successful rescue attempt [Yes]

:f: Either kill Komari Vosa in combat [No]

Or capture, or help to capture, Komari Vosa [Yes]

Rewards/Penalties:

:a: 1000XP [+100XP]

:b: 20XP for each freed slave: 3480XP [+348XP]

A Force-sensitive animal as a bonded companion

Increased Reputation with the newly free slaves

Increased Reputation with the Lokella (for asking them to take in the freed slaves)

:c: Location of a major Bando Gora operation

2000XP [+200XP]

:d:Capture by the Bando Gora, and the issues that brings with it

1000XP [+100XP]

:e: A very minor loss of Reputation with any who comes to save you.

:f: A massive increase in reputation with Dooku

Test of friendship/loyalty passed with Dooku.

3000XP [+300XP]

...

I was relieved to finally have the quest linked to Komari Vosa completed. When it had first appeared, it had simply been about discovering Vosa’s fate, but as each part of the mission had occurred, the quest had evolved and expanded. The interface had explained that this was due to it being the first mission quest chain since the Interface had updated several years ago. In hindsight that was true as every quest until this chain of events had been either self-defined or a reaction to current events.

Having one objective of the quest finish only to open new objectives had been irritating, but it made some sense. It reminded me of operations in my former life where events downrange had forced the initial operational plan to change. They hadn’t been common, but they had happened from time to time.

Regarding the quest, the 11,528XP I’d gained was impressive, especially once added to the few thousand more I’d gained from combat since starting this mission, but with me now being level 27, it was only around forty percent of the XP needed to level up. The mission had been far more dangerous, in the end, than any I’d done so far, and the rewards proved that, but it was countered by the fact each level needed 2000XP more than the last level. Or it would until I reached level 40 when the step up would increase to 3000XP.

There were a few other smaller notices. Those covered Force Fury and Negate Pain both levelling up by around half a dozen levels. That made perfect sense as I’d been drawing on the Dark Side to keep going and ignoring the pain that had flooded my body the moment my rage-induced focus on Vosa had slipped.

As I floated in the bacta tank, I wondered why Player’s Mind had failed so spectacularly on Kidriff and why the mask – I felt the bacta ripple around me as I shivered just thinking about that thing – had managed to entirely block the Interface. Then there was the fact that once I was freed, I could use the Interface even though it had explained that the Bando Gora was a Dark Side Nexus. All of this made little to no sense, especially when the Interface was a higher power than the Force.

Untrue.

We are a higher power than the Force, capable of interacting with and altering the multiverse in ways the Force cannot.

The Interface is not us, and is, in terms your mind would understand, beneath the Force in the power hierarchy.

We thought this was made clear when your ancestor, the being once known as Revan, generated a quest within the Interface, however it appears that you have misplaced that memory.

I frowned at the first message from TPTB in years even as I pulled the memory they were talking about to the forefront of my mind. Revan, or at least his Force Ghost, had generated a quest for me, one that was entirely hidden as to what I had to do to complete it, or what would happen if I didn’t. Still, Player’s Mind was meant to protect me from outside influences.

It was and does.

However, we have found with previous winners of the Multiversal Lottery that having abilities that leave a user immune to the worst elements of their chosen universe is… unamusing.

As such, with each system update that occurs the, for lack of a better term, training wheels offered by certain special abilities, are weakened, if not removed outright. Which is why the Dark Side is able to interfere with the system, provided you aren’t doing something.

Though if any unique ability is removed, you will be reimbursed the cost to spend on another ability.

This ensures that a; your adventures continue to bring us amusement and b; you do not become overly reliant on abilities that separate you from others in your universe.

This is also why, during the last system update, Player’s Body was altered to allow you to bleed and experience sensations.

While this does eliminate much of what Player’s Body does, the perk still allows you to endure far more damage than you could otherwise. However, if you are unhappy with the changes to this and Player’s Mind, options to alter them - at no extra cost - or remove one of them entirely - for a recycled Perk Point - shall occur when you reach level 30 or turn 18 cycles; whichever comes first.

That… that wasn’t in the creation section before I was inserted into the galaxy.

We have found that revealing the overpowered bonuses gifted at character creation would be weakened, resulted in previous winners of the Multiversal Lottery choosing worlds that… limited our enjoyment of their adventures.

While this action may upset or anger you, we remind you that your very existence was a quirk of chance that you knew nothing about and that we sit above all.

I gulped, or tried to, at the words. Even though there was no aggression in them, the warning was easy to pick out.

Yet, as I quickly returned to the events that happened after I’d been freed, particularly my fight – and that was being generous – with Vosa, it was easy to see why the Interface had been drained of power when my Force connection hadn’t been with this new information. I didn’t like it, but there was little I could do about it. Still, it would’ve been nice to have some forewarning that this would happen.

Consider this forewarning for what is still to come.

However, do note that there are no other significant changes to any Player Power beyond the aforementioned weakening of Player’s Mind and Player’s Body.

At least not until the next system update.

…

Until then, remember to live and enjoy your life.

We will be watching.

The messages faded from the Interface as I considered their words. There was a large part of me that was furious at things changing in a way that I didn’t realise, but reviewing the Revan incident, and the system update when I was eleven, I could see how the Interface had never quite worked the way I’d believed, how subtle changes could be applied and, as much as if galled me, why TPTB had done what they’d done.

But couldn’t they have revealed this in a situation where I didn’t have to endure two months of torture at the hands of those deranged motherfuckers beforehand?

As a new wave of rage rose inside, I closed my eyes and took slow deep breaths. I had enough issues rattling around my head that adding to them with anger at TPTB for their choices wasn’t worth it. For example what I’d done to my actual torturer… I shivered in revulsion. Not just in my actions, but in how it’d made me feel then, and if I was being honest with myself, still did.

For that act alone, there was a chance the High Council would not only remove me from the Order but try to imprison me in a place like the Citadel. If they didn’t, then I’d be under a lot more observation and, if they’d taken any of the recommendations Fay had suggested for Jon Savos, I’d have sessions with a psychiatrist.

Putting that to one side, along with everything connected to my torture at the hands of the Bando Gora – which was only possible by activating Player’s Mind ­– I focused on reviewing my fight with Vosa. The first thing that stuck out was that I had really drawn on my anger towards her to keep me going, so perhaps that was why the Interface had worked in the base. Something to consider for another time. The second was the sheer sloppiness of how I’d fought, not least losing both my beskad and lightsaber. Dooku, once he learnt of that, would likely ream me out over it, though it was nothing to the self-flagualtion I was going to do as I reviewed the fight over and over again it was literally one of the things Makashi stressed the most. Though calling it a fight was being generous as it was very easy to see that it hadn’t been much of one. Instead, being more a case of her manipulating me to keep me unbalanced.

Unsurprisingly, I’d been enraged when I’d found her and she’d exploited that to keep me on-edge, just as the voice of my torturer had made me desire his death. If not for Bo – and there was another issue I’d have to deal with later – I’m not sure how cognisant I’d have been after brutalising that bastard.

Still, I’d had some control when I’d left the prison complex, though that shattered the moment I found Vosa, and from then on, my actions were a shitshow of mistakes. Vosa had done her best to keep me unbalanced – in her shoe’s I’d have done the same – and had clearly not taken the fight seriously. At least not until near the end.

The more I reviewed my memories, the more it became obvious that she’d been leading me away from everyone else, especially Dooku. While that was undoubtedly so she could find a moment to recapture me, I suspected it was also because she feared facing her former master; knowing that she wasn’t anywhere near his level. While our fight wasn’t a great indication of her skill, from what little I saw, I felt that, had I been in control and in peak condition, I likely could have bested her and killed her if I so wished. Whereas Dooku would’ve wiped the floor with her.

Instead, I’d been a mess. Trying to use Makashi while enraged ruined everything that made the form so effective against other lightsaber combatants. There were a few moments where, if I squinted, I had Djem-So, but those were few and far between, and certainly not enough to suggest I’d been doing so consciously.

Another option might’ve been to engage Player’s Mind once that shabyir mask had been removed, but with my PP depleted by said mask, and me drawing on my rage to keep myself going, that wouldn’t have worked. Certainly not when I’d lost control and any semblance of clear thinking had deserted me. My Force connection had been disrupted by the mask, but not enough that once it was removed I could no longer use the Force; though most of that had been me bending it to my desires and not working in unison with it.

I sighed into the mask and felt the bacta around me shift slightly. Once I was out of this tank, Dooku was going to make me go over every action I’d taken from when Bo had freed me, and none of it was going to make me look good. I could already hear the disapproval in his tone as he ripped my pathetic form to shreds and offered barbed comments on my lack of focus and recklessness.

I didn’t disagree though, and realising that I was going to be stuck in this tank for a while yet, I set about preparing not just a review of my fight for him, but comments on how I’d fucked up. Even if he didn’t directly challenge me on various moments in the fight, or ask me for my opinions, I knew that I needed to be prepared as if he would.

Plus, it would help keep my mind off Bo, and how comforting and enjoyable that kiss had been.

… …

----------------------------------------

… …

“I am curious how you would answer that.” Dooku’s words threw my question back in my face, which was something I’d expected, and drew a snort of amusement from me.

Currently, we were sitting in quarters the Lokella had set aside for me whenever I visited the station – and which were slightly larger than the quarters given to Dooku, Fay or others, but that was neither here nor there – as I recuperated from my ordeal at the hands of the Bando Gora.

Since waking up in the tank I’d had about a week to prepare for this talk, though Dooku had at least given me a day out of the tank to regain my balance before he’d arrived and made clear we would be discussing everything since my capture. With us sitting at the small table in my quarters, Fenrir had decided to use my bed and was currently stretched out as he snoozed; his legs occasionally twitching as he dreamed.

One thing had stuck out to me in what Dooku had explained and that regarded the Jedi, and to say I was pissed at the lack of help offered by the Jedi High Council would be like saying Hutts are a repugnant species. I could easily imagine the ‘Will of the Force’ bullshit they’d spewed to Fay when she’d spoken with them personally. Yet, once I’d cooled down a little and considered it, there was some logic to it. If one squinted and looked at things from their point of view through a damaged telescope. Probably after inhaling dozens of death sticks and ingesting a lethal amount of spice.

Comparing their behaviour to that of Dukes Adonai and Torrhen, who’d each sent a child of their own along with Gar and Rook while involved in the middle of a civil war made me seriously question why I was sticking it out with the Order. Or it would’ve if not for the person sitting opposite me had made clear that the fact that the greatest known source of knowledge on the Force existed in the Temple on Coruscant; and that many of those sources would become available to me once I was knighted. Of course, that had me planning to spend time completing the Just Don’t Get Caught quest as quickly as possible while doing as many training quests as I could. Punishment from the High Council allowing. It also made me wonder if Dooku was planning something more than just getting me access to places like the holocron vaults, but even if he was prepping to rob the temple blind, I didn’t care and after this shitshow, I was more than willing to help him when the time was right.

When our discussion had reached the rescue mission, I was both disappointed and relieved that Fay hadn’t been present. Dooku and Vos had launched their attack while my other master was still on-route as they didn’t wish the intel they’d uncovered to dry up. If Fay had been there, I doubted I’d have been brought to the Lokella for treatment and instead taken directly to the Temple. And that was saying nothing of how willingly I’d embraced the Dark Side while fighting Vosa or how that conversation with her and the High Council would still have to take place as there was little doubt in my mind that I could avoid those talks any better than I was avoiding this “review” with Dooku.

I’d been a little upset that Aayla had stayed on the Ne’tra Sartr, but I understood her motives. From what Dooku had revealed, the young Twi’lek had been struggling with self-doubt since my capture. I didn’t blame her for what happened or the choices she’d made as recognising your weaknesses was something I considered a sign of maturity. Still, I’d have to talk with her the next time we spoke to let her know it hadn’t been her fault for my capture, though when that’d be I couldn’t say as she’d taken Vos back to the Temple after my rescue.

Once we’d reached the review of my release by Bo – and Dooku hadn’t commented, bar the raising of a single eyebrow, on my reveal that I’d kissed her as a way to centre my thoughts – and the others he’d been probing me about why I’d made the choices I had, and what I’d have done better. He’d then stated that he’d seen me engage Vosa but chosen to heal Vos instead of moving to help. I’d asked why that was, which was what drew his challenging response.

“Somehow, I just knew you were going to say that.” My comment generated a faint sense of amusement from Dooku.

“Then I assume you have considered the possible reasons why I chose the path I did?” He took a sip of his blossom wine after asking. I felt my eyebrow twitch in annoyance. It irked me that I was stuck on a restorative diet arranged by the Lokella’s chief physician for at least another few days.

I leaned back in my chair and brought my ideas to the forefront of my mind. “The most obvious would be that you were unaware that I’d engaged Vosa, however, you were too close to have failed to sense me engaging Vosa.” I spoke slowly, taking my time to lay out both the possibility and the reason why I’d discounted it. This was a habit I’d picked up from Dooku and merged with my former life’s training on how to carry out post-operation debriefs. Dooku rolled his fingers in a gesture for me to explain.

“Once that mask,” I took a breath to calm myself. A faint shiver had run across my skin at even mentioning the mask as Dooku had explained it was a Sith creation that was used to break Jedi in millennia gone by disrupting their connection to the Force. How the Bando Gora had gotten a hold of such a thing was unknown, but they had and while the mask hadn’t been destroyed – Dooku mentioned a short time ago that he had a use for it – I doubted I’d be comfortable around it for a very long time. Or any mask for that matter as Eidetic Memory would likely work against me and force me to relive the sensations of that mask every time I tried to wear another. “Once the mask was removed, I was able to sense you and Vos. It was hard to be sure of where, with how corrupted the Force was in that place, but I knew you were in the facility.” I took another moment as the first cold, twisted feeling of reaching into the Force in the Bando Gora base came to mind. “When I engaged Vosa I knew you were very close by, perhaps even just a room or two away. If I could sense that in my… unbalanced state, then you’d have known I’d engaged her. Which defeated my initial reason.”

“I then considered that maybe Knight Vos’s injuries were more severe than I’d realised, but there again I saw an issue. Even if Knight Vos was gravely wounded, but could be saved, I feel that you’d place more importance on my safety than his.” Dooku’s brow rose as I explained my reasoning. “I’m not trying to be arrogant, Master. I simply feel that to you, I have greater worth.”

“That is indeed true, though I had not realised I had become so easy to decipher.”

I chuckled at Dooku’s faux annoyance. “You’re not, Master. After several years around you, I think I’m beginning to develop an understanding of how you think. Not an entire picture mind you, but perhaps just the edges which is enough, I hope, to make educated guesses about your reasoning.”

Dooku raised his cup in what I assumed was a form of acceptance of my explanation, and thus I returned to going through my thought process. “With those two obvious reasons out of the way, I admit I struggled for some time to come up with another that made sense.” I took a moment and sipped at the cup of water on the table in front of me. My throat was a touch sore from all the talking I was doing, but I wasn’t willing to stop until I knew why he’d done what he did. “One idea I rejected was that perhaps you hoped Vosa would kill Bo. I suspect both you and Master Fay feel I’ve grown too close to her over the last year. However, I rejected that as the political fallout from her dying while under our care would be more… disruptive than allowing our friendship to continue. Losing Duke Adonai as an ally, with what we know about the future, would be a political mistake I don’t think you’d want to make.”

“In regard to both the suggestion and why you rejected it, your logic is impeccable.” I felt the faintest ripple of pride coming from Dooku as he spoke. “While I admit I was… confused by your decision to train for a year with the Mandalorians, in hindsight, I can see the logic in the move. Inside a year you’ve done something that few Jedi in history have managed and gained powerful factions within their people as allies. With the Sith on the move in the shadows, the logic in bringing the other major faction historically opposed to the Jedi and Republic that has been a consistent galactic power since almost the founding of the Old Republic to our side is undeniable. A brave, and unexpected move that will no doubt have importance for what is to come.” I couldn’t help but smile at him not only for approving of my thought processes, but of my training on Mandalore as well. I knew he'd accepted it from the beginning, but to have that confirmed, and earn his praise for the move, was nice to hear. “Were there any other reasons you considered for why I may have not moved to help you against Komari as quickly as I could have?”

“There are a couple, but the only one that made the most sense, however strange to most people it would be, was that you stayed with Vos not because of how gravely injured he was, but because you wished to test me against Vosa. To see how well I’d handle a skilled lightsaber combatant for real while suffering from… weaknesses.” While Dooku came across as cold and calculating to many, there was more to him than being a borderline-sociopath. He stared at me intently, the wine all but forgotten and I wondered if I had perhaps gone too far.

“And if that was my intention, how would you feel about my actions?”

The question from Dooku came after at least half a minute of silence, yet I’d expected him to reply with a question. Him challenging me and wanting me to determine how and why events had happened was a common feature of his behaviour towards me over the last few years. At his core, Dooku was entirely reasonable and pragmatic, if you had some understanding of his approach to life, which was something I felt I was developing from training under him for over five years and knowing a little about why he’d become the way he had been as Darth Tyrannus.

“When I first considered it, I was furious.” So furious in fact that I’d had to activate Player’s Mind to regain control of myself, though once I did I wondered why there’s been no damage to the bacta tank as had happened with Vader when he had first been encased in his armour. “The idea that after six years of training, you’d be willing to risk my life by letting me engage the person responsible for… what happened… yeah it was probably a good thing I was in a bacta tank.” I spoke slowly, taking time to lay out my words as I tried not to relive anything of my time under Vosa’s tender mercies. “However, with me being stuck in the bacta, I had time to move past that – or at least, put it to one side – and consider your logic for such a decision.”

I paused and drank some more water to quell the irritation in my throat. “Even though it’d been years since you’d trained Vosa, you’d have a solid understanding of her base style and Force abilities. From that you could extrapolate the likelihood of how easily, if at all, I could defeat Vosa, meaning that you felt that we were at least relative in power, so it wasn’t like you were setting me against insurmountable odds. Then, assuming I did win, the next challenge was to see if I’d kill her. Regardless of how either the duel or the moment where I could, potentially, have the chance to kill Vosa played out, you had a useful, if not unique, moment to test me.”

My piece said, I leaned back in my chair, and ignored the phantom pain that came from my extremities. I knew I was healed, that the physical scars of what had been done to me were gone, but the mental ones were going to be there for a long, long time.

For the second time in a few minutes, silence reigned in my quarters as I waited for Dooku’s response. He lifted his wine and took a long, controlled sip that felt, to me, as if it was designed to see how I’d react to him delaying his reply.

“It appears that I have become predictable, or at least to you, my Padawan, in ways I hadn’t expected nor calculated for.” The faintest of twitches from his lips made it clear he wasn’t annoyed about this. “Your hypothesis about why I remained with Knight Vos, beyond his wounds being severe, was correct. As is your logic as to why I did so. Though it appears that you have missed two pieces of reasoning I had in that, while Master Fay and I have taught you implicitly about the dangers of the Dark Side, you hadn’t, until then, experienced those dangers. I believe it is safe to say you now have a greater understanding of its insidious nature if one is not properly prepared for the encounter. Also, knowing what I do of Komari’s training and yours, I felt that, if you so wished, you would be able to defeat her, if not kill her outright. However, with you unbalanced, I felt the chances of that were lower than ideal.”

“Yes, Master.”

He glanced over at the door, as if to reassure himself it was still closed. “While I am disappointed that you were not able to overcome the lure of the Dark Side enough to defeat Komari in single combat, I am satisfied that you have both learnt the lesson regarding the Dark Side and were responsible enough to not lose complete awareness of your surroundings. Distracting Komari long enough for Miss Kryze to wound her was, if not how I had hoped the duel would end, an acceptable alternative. For now.” There was no warning in his tone, but I knew it was one. While a small part of me hoped to never be in a similar situation again, the majority of my mind knew that was unlikely to happen. “I am also grateful that, when the moment came, you resisted the urge to eliminate Komari permanently.”

I sighed and looked down, embarrassed about the truth. “Master, that wasn’t the case. When I saw her on the floor and still alive, I wanted to kill her. I tried to, but I lost consciousness before I could.” That action, more than anything about the battle with Vosa, was the thing that I was most disappointed about. I understood and accepted that killing in cold blood was sometimes warranted but doing so because of a personal need for revenge and taking joy in trying to do so was, to me, a sign of emotional weakness and instability that was only partially mitigated by the circumstances of my emotional state at the time.

Dooku leaned back in his chair and stroked his beard. The chair creaked with the movement though it failed to disturb Fenrir who was, going by the wagging of his tail, enjoying whatever he was dreaming about. Thank the Force the spikes on the tail weren’t yet sharp or my bedsheets would be ruined. “While I am disappointed that you attempted to kill Komari, particularly in such a manner, the fact you are willing to admit to this failing is encouraging. Force willing, you will never be placed in such a position again, but should that still happen, I expect the lesson to have been learned and that you will not repeat such a failure again.”

“Yes, Master.” I considered explaining why I’d wanted to kill Vosa, only to stop. Dooku likely could already guess why, and even if he didn’t, I doubted he cared enough to listen to me essentially whine about what had happened to me. Instead, I turned my attention to another issue. “What will be done with her?”

I knew Vosa was still alive as I could sense her faintly, though I was unable to get a lock on her on the Minimap. Either she was far further away than I could sense with Detection or, and this was my preferred option, she was currently being forced to wear the same mask she’d forced me to wear.

“Currently Komari is secured aboard this station. The Lokella have the disruption field in that room turned up to its fullest.” Dooku paused and I sensed some trepidation from him. “They’ve also placed the mask used against you on her.”

As Dooku paused to finish off the last of his wine, I couldn’t keep a small smile from my face at hearing that. Vosa deserved that and more for what she’d done to me. “Once you’re cleared to leave, we will be returning, with Master Fay – who will be arriving in a few days – to the Jedi Temple.” His brow creased as he continued. “There are some, including members of the High Council, who disapprove of my decision to move against the Bando Gora without sanction. That may well have played into why no help was offered to Master Fay when she requested additional resources to locate and free you.” I frowned at hearing once more about the stubbornness and, in my opinion, self-centred arrogance of the High Council. “On that, we agree.” Obviously, Dooku had understood why my mood had suddenly soured. “While I expect them to attempt to discipline me over this mission, a move that is outside their rights to enact, for them to deny aid in locating a Jedi they consider…” He paused and took several long, deep breaths to calm himself. “That is an issue for me to handle, not one that you need to be burdened with. What is your concern is the fate of Komari Vosa.”

“I plan to request the High Council's help in rehabilitating her. However, I doubt that they will do so. More likely they will demand she be imprisoned for her actions and left there for the rest of her life.” To be honest, I couldn’t bring myself to disagree with the Council on that. “As such, Komari will remain secured on the Ne’tra Sartr until after our inevitable meeting with the High Council. While I would prefer to have her remain somewhere more secure, leaving her here is a danger I will not place on the Lokella.” That I could agree with, especially as Anakin was on the station. “If, as I suspect, the Council fails to offer support, I will be taking a leave of absence from the Order. Komari’s fall is her failing, however, I feel my inaction in determining her fate after Baltizaar is my failing. As such, I will be rectifying that.”

I tried to keep my anger at that plan off my face, but even if I did succeed, Dooku must’ve sensed it as he gave me a pointed look. “I can understand your feelings on the matter and the concern you may have that I’m abandoning your training. That is simply untrue. I will be handing responsibility for your training over to Master Fay. This was an idea that Master Fay and I had regarding your training when we initially took you as our Padawan.”

“Yes, Master.” It was obvious that I wasn’t happy about this, though I was honest enough to admit that my dislike of this plan was more to do with losing Dooku as a mentor for a year than him attempting to rehabilitate Vosa. While I doubted that would be possible to a degree that I could accept – never mind the High Council – I understood Dooku’s reasoning and sense of guilt over Vosa’s fate. Of course, that wouldn’t stop me from killing her if Dooku failed in helping her and she became a threat once more.

Dooku considered my face for a moment before he spoke again. “While I understand your reluctance over this, I am grateful you are willing to trust my judgement. I am fully aware that Komari may be beyond saving, at least as far as being a Jedi is concerned, but I feel she still has a role to play in what is to come.” A finger traced the rim of his now empty glass of wine. “Since you are showing remarkable clarity of thought today, I wonder if you understand why I brought you to the Lokella instead of seeking support from the Order or the Mandalorians?”

The abrupt change of topic caught me off guard and I blinked several times. Once over my initial shock, I considered the question as I felt my finger tap my chin. “For the Jedi, I’d imagine it had something to do with not wanting them to see they were right about your initial mission. Returning with me badly wounded would’ve lent credence to those who felt you’d acted rashly in moving against the Bando Gora; or more as they probably already feel my capture was a justification of their decision. There’s also the fact that I need time to process what, and how, I did what I did. Given that Grandmaster Yoda sensed my moment of weakness on Tatooine, the risk that any… stench,” I frowned as I felt that word was wrong, but in the moment, I couldn’t come up with a better one, “of the Dark Side was still upon me from what I did in the Bando Gora base was too great a risk to take. Plus, if you’d arrived with me in a coma and Vosa in chains, the slim chance they might help you with her rehabilitation,” I paused and took a breath to brush off the ripple of anger I felt at even offering Vosa such a chance, “would be gone.”

Dooku nodded and I sensed some pride from him. “And Mandalore?”

I wasn’t as sure there, though I did have an idea. “Political, possibly.”

“How so?”

While there was a part of me that wanted to roll my eyes at Dooku turning everything linked to my rescue into a teaching moment, I felt I understood why he was doing it. It was another test; one designed to show I could understand my weaknesses and the reasoning behind the actions of others. Both he and Fay treated me as a young man instead of the boy I physically was, so this was a logical way to go about that, while also teaching me to analyse the world around me. While I was comfortable with combat post-operation debriefs from my former life, learning how to apply that logic to economic, sociological, and political situations was a skill I suspected I would need in the future.

“Mandalorian culture places a great deal of importance on physical ability. If I’d returned to the sector, even after months of torture, unconscious and unable to defend myself, it could be considered a sign of weakness.” Right now, I was simply thinking aloud as I hadn’t placed much thought into why Dooku hadn’t taken me to the Mandalorians as, outside of his issues with them, I didn’t think there would be. Thinking it through now though was revealing other possible reasons. “After spending a year training beside them and earning a reputation as both a clan leader and warrior, all in preparation for what is to come, then me arriving back in-system unable to even defend myself would likely damage that reputation.”

As I waited for Dooku to reply I considered that what I’d just told him was likely not entirely true. From my time on Mandalore, I felt that they’d be fine with a warrior returning home badly injured; so long as their opponent was either captured or killed in the process. A moment after that thought, Dooku gave me a rare smile. “Indeed. If you had ended the battle in any condition that allowed you to walk under your own power, even with a crutch, I would have taken young Ordo up on the offer to have you recuperate on Mandalore.” The smile faded though I could easily sense his pride. “I’m pleased to see that while your body has been invalidated, your mind has remained as sharp and that you are beginning to understand the implications of both your actions and that of others, based on the actions you take.” He stood, picking up the empty cup as he did. “That said, once the medical staff are content that you have physically healed from your ordeal, I feel it would be prudent to increase the veracity of your training. Both as a Jedi and in understanding how the galaxy truly works; from the shining, decadent lights of Coruscant to the lowest backwater world with any importance.”

I nodded in acceptance. Even while I doubted that I’d enjoy either set of lessons, I knew they would be of great help as I stepped out of the shadow of my masters and started to affect the galaxy directly. Though at least the political lessons would be less physically painful than my lightsaber and Force training.

“Before I leave, I would like to offer my thanks.” That caught me off guard as Dooku rarely offered thanks, saving it for those he felt truly derived it. “By capturing Komari Vosa, even if it wasn’t your intention, you have allowed me to rectify an… error in judgement. Much as you did when we were on Mandalore.” His eyes narrowed and I felt the faintest of brushes against my mind from the Force. “If I did not know you better, and how some of these events were not done by you intentionally, I would suspect you were doing this deliberately to ingratiate yourself with me.”

“I…” I paused almost as soon as I started to reply as, on some level, I was doing these things to gain his support and trust. And not just because I had a quest linked to preventing him from becoming Darth Tyrannus – with said quest having had another objective added and completed. Strangely I had grown to enjoy my time training with Dooku. It was never fun or easy, but there was something in the man that, outside of his similar feelings about the state of the galaxy, I felt a kinship with.

“I am not accusing you of manipulating me on purpose, only that through you, The Force is guiding me to places and people from my past where I have wondered about my choices.” Dooku’s words were delivered in his usual stoic tone, but I felt there was an honesty and curiosity behind them. As if he was wondering why the Force was guiding his hand in these matters. “With that being said, I feel I have taken up enough of your time. There are others onboard who wish to speak with you, even some that do not realise it, and I would be remiss in my duty as your master to monopolise your time.”

“Yes, Master.” A smirk crept onto my face at Dooku’s strange attempt at a joke; or at least what I was taking as one. Many of our sessions together, be they lightsaber training, meditation, or discussions such as this, often ran longer than planned and not once had he ever seemed to consider others when ending such a session.

He walked from my room, cup in hand, leaving me alone in my thoughts. However, before I could review the meeting I’d just had, Fenrir stirred in my bed and turned his head toward the door as a familiar presence, one mixed with worry and excitement, approached.

The door opened and a small, soft missile tipped with a golden-brown warhead shot into the room, slamming into me with enough force to make my chair slide into the edge of my bed. I felt Fenrir move behind me, though there was no sense he was going to attack Anakin; those playful sessions when we’d helped transport the newly freed slaves from Tantajoc had helped the pup grow to see Anakin was not a threat.

“Anakin!” The exasperated cry of Shmi drew my eyes to the door to see her following her son into my room. “Let him go! His wounds are still fresh and such rash actions might reopen them.”

Anakin all but leapt away from me, glancing down at his hands as if they were suddenly weapons. “S-sorry, I just-” I cut him off by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s fine,” I spoke with a smile to help reassure him. “The docs have cleared me to move around, though I’m still stuck in this room for at least another day or so, just to be on the safe side.”

He nodded and slipped into the seat Dooku had just vacated. “I know. Um, I mean, wh-hat happened?” He leaned forward one hand absently moving to pat Fenrir who’d slipped off the bed and was now on the floor under the table. “A-about a week ago I thought I sensed something weird in a dream. Like I wanted to hurt someone badly. Master Dooku said that might be because we share a connection in the Force but he didn’t explain what that means, or what happened.”

I struggled to keep a frown from my face at hearing that Anakin had experienced even some of what I’d been going through. Our bond was considered low by the Interface, but with our strength of connection to the Force, that seemed to be enough for him to sense echoes of what I’d felt. I was concerned as having Anakin even indirectly brush up against the Dark Side while so young and untrained wasn’t a path I wanted to be anywhere near, never mind travel down. Plus there was also the concern that if Anakin had felt it, then others with whom I shared bonds with had as well.

“It means that, in the ‘eyes’ of the Force, we’re friends.” I didn’t want to go into too much detail, both because it would fly over Anakin’s head and it may well concern Shmi and make her reluctant to let Anakin be trained once he was old enough for me to do so without the Council being able to stop me. “As for what happened… We were searching for clues about Master Dooku’s Padawan before me. Clues that led us to a criminal cult that, rather unexpectedly, that former Padawan led. The cult… they’d changed her, made her evil, and she’d grown powerful enough to take control of them.” I didn’t like labelling anyone as out and out evil, but the Bando Gora and Komari Vosa were worthy of that title in my eyes. I knew I was biased, but after what I’d endured, I didn’t give a fuck if that was wrong. “During our investigation, I was captured. Vosa, that was the Padawan’s name, and you are not to go anywhere near her cell, am I clear?” I shifted subject and tone as a random thought of Anakin being curious about Vosa and trying to meet her flashed through my mind. Anakin nodded, though I doubted he understood my worry and I looked over at Shmi. Her face was marred by a heavy frown even as she nodded, letting me know she’d do all she could to ensure Anakin never got near Vosa. I also made a mental note to talk with Dooku and Baalta about that.

“Vosa, she wanted to change me, make me like her to hurt Master Dooku. I resisted but…” I paused and looked away, not wanting him to see the pain I knew was reflected in my eyes. “I was close to breaking before Bo, Master Dooku and the others found me.” I turned back once I felt I was able to hide the pain from his sight. “After I was free, I… well, I lost it. I wanted to do things to Vosa that I shouldn’t and that resulted in me making another mistake. One that almost meant she could steal me away again.”

I lifted my arms, letting him see the various lighter lines all over them from the various wounds I’d taken while under Vosa’s tender mercy. The bacta had healed all of them, which was fine by me as I didn’t need physical scars of what had happened; the mental ones were going to be far more than enough.

“So Vosa is a better fighter than you?”

I shook my head as I looked at the boy, wondering why that was the first thing he took from my story. “Yes, and no. With how I was when I attacked her, I was never going to win. Something I only realised after I woke up in the bacta tank. However, having played the fight over in my head, I feel I could take her if I fought her on more even footing.” Perhaps I was being arrogant, but nothing I’d seen in my review of my duel with her suggested I couldn’t take her, and Dooku obviously felt the same as he’d allowed me to go after her without his support.

I leaned forward, wanting to make sure what I said next struck home. “The fact that she could take me down, even if I was not my usual self, is why you aren’t to go anywhere near her. If she could do that to me, I hate to imagine what she’d do to you. I-I’d never forgive myself if what happened to me happened to you.” Yes, I was playing on his and his mother’s emotions, but I felt the point needed to be enforced as firmly as it could.

Anakin gulped hard. “I-um, I won’t go there. I promise.”

“Good.” I turned to Shmi as she spoke. “I know you like to learn Ani, but on this, I agree with Cameron and Master Dooku. There are… dangers in the galaxy that even a Jedi can struggle with. I-I know you want to be a Jedi like Cameron one day, but I… I don’t want to lose you.”

I silently wondered how things were going to play out for them now. I’d taken them from Tatooine, so Shmi dying to Tusken raiders was highly unlikely to happen, but as Yoda had said, the future was always in motion.

“You won’t! I’m going to be the best Jedi ever! Nothing will ever hurt you!” I couldn’t help but smile at the childish bravado from him. It seemed that need to save people still ran true within him, even if he was no longer a slave. Though I’d have to make sure to focus that desire better, otherwise he would still be at risk of falling under the sway of someone like Darth Sidious. “Hey Cam, what’s up with Bo?”

“Huh?” Yes, my reply lacked intelligence, but that had come at me out of Wild Space.

“Bo’s not left the Sartr since you arrived.” Anakin paused and frowned as if thinking hard about something. “I’ve only seen her at meals, and she always takes her food back to the ship.”

I glanced at Shmi for confirmation and got it with a nod. Sighing, I looked back at Anakin. “Um, something happened during the mission. I did something and, well, I don’t think Bo approved.” I rubbed the back of my head as I explained and tried to keep things vague enough that Shmi didn’t pick up on what I’d done. No need to start rumours among the Lokella that Bo and I were together. “I’ll-uh, speak with her when I can.”

“Good. It’s no fun having you both here and no-one to play with.” Of course, that was Anakin’s reasoning for asking, I thought as I chuckled at his childish logic. Though it did once more show his need to help and protect others, even if he didn’t understand what was wrong or why.

Suddenly an idea came to me; one that would both distract Anakin from thinking more on my situation with Bo and help further unlock some of his talent. “Hmm, you like building things, right?”

“Yeah. I’m trying to make a droid to help everyone around here. Mainly with medical stuff for when they rescue other slaves, but also to help defend them.” My brow rose at hearing that, but it was a good idea.

“Huh. Well, if you’re busy with that, I doubt you’d want to go over the schematics to the Ne’tra Sartr.” I leaned back, as if pulling the offer from the table.

“What? No! I want that!” Anakin shouted, all but leaping across the table at me, before a cough from Shmi made him settle back in his chair. “Um, I mean, yeah, I’d like that.”

I chuckled at the behaviour. “Then I’ll ask Dooku to download a copy for you.”

“Wizard!” He turned to Shmi, a large grin surging across his face. “Did you hear that mum?”

“I did.” Shmi glanced my way before shifting her stance. “Now, I believe Cameron needs to rest, and I think someone has classes to attend.”

Anakin’s joy at getting access to the schematics fell in an instant. “Yes, mum.” He slid from the chair, though not before giving me a smile. “Thanks. And I’m glad you’re ok.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.” I leaned forward and ruffled his hair, making him scowl, then watched the Skywalkers leave.

Fenrir came over, rubbing up against my leg for attention. As I reached down to pet him, I wondered about this droid Anakin was designing. Clearly, it wouldn’t be a protocol droid – Thank the Force – but I was curious what he could do with better resources. As much as I detested C3PO, Anakin had built him from scrap. That was a skill worth developing, hence why I was giving him access to the Sartr’s plans. It was a good ship, great in many ways, but I felt it could be better, so what better way to see if that was true, then giving the plans to a boy with an insane ability with technology to see what he could improve. Force, if he could improve it, I might have to ask him for help with HK’s later bodies. The current design I had was… lacking. Though imagining how annoyed it would make HK if I put him on something not much beyond a B1 battle droid made me chuckle.

However, that amusement fell as my mind shifted to Bo. I’d kissed her as I needed something physical to focus on as my connection to the Force was restored, and while it wasn’t how I’d have made that connection if I’d been more rational, it’s what I’d done on an instinctual level. What made things worse, beyond the fact Bo had no genuine interest in me, was that I’d enjoyed the kiss and, even though I’d caught her by surprise, she hadn’t resisted or complained.

I sighed and ran my free hand over my face. This was a kriffing mess that I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up.

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Fay walked as quickly as she dared without it seeming to others that she was in a hurry. Dooku had met her when she’d arrived on Mtael’s Gift – the name normally brought a smile to her face, though it hadn’t this time – and as they’d walked, he went over certain details of both Cameron’s capture and rescue that she’d wanted clarified after their numerous holocalls.

While she understood his need to not reveal full details over the Holonet, even if she felt it was another sign of his growing paranoia regarding the Order and the lurking Sith presence, she disliked being in the dark on matters such as this.

Her mind had sensed Cameron’s with ease the moment her transport exited hyperspace, but the Padawan seemed reserved, almost as if there was something he was hiding from her. She’d pressed Dooku on this, but he’d been reluctant to reveal anything about what the issue might be. Still, she knew from the Force that it wasn’t anything bad.

Several members of the Lokella paused and nodded to her as she walked past. The mark of respect meant little to her as them being free was the will of the Force and not something she was responsible for, but she allowed it as it brought them comfort.

As she approached Cameron’s quarters, she sensed something… unusual in the Force. There was another being in the room with him, one with a strong connection to the Force. No, not another being but an animal of some kind, one that resonated powerfully within the Force.

She glanced at Dooku who was walking a step behind her and to her right, but his face gave away nothing. Nor was there any hint of concern or danger from him within the Force; though she felt she sensed some amusement coming from him. How unusual.

Her curiosity regarding this animal was minor when compared to her need to see Cameron was well with her own eyes, yet it did make her speed increase just a touch.

She walked forward as the doors to Cameron’s quarters opened. “Cameron, it is good to…” Her words failed as she spotted the relatively small black mass that was sprawled out over the Padawan’s legs as he lay on the bed. It took her mind a few seconds to realise just what she was looking at and once she did, she turned and gave Dooku a pointed glare.

The Human stood calmly, unmoved by any annoyance he could sense from her, but that feeling of amusement from him had grown far stronger upon her reaction.

“Master?”

Cameron’s voice had her turn back to face him; her face removing any hint of shock and dislike it had held as she did. “I’m well Cameron, I was just not expecting to find you had collected a new… companion.”

Cameron smiled and scratched the Tuk’ata – Fay was fully aware of what it was, having encountered the species before. “Yeah, Fenrir takes some getting used to, but he's a giant softy.” Yet, to find that her Padawan, one with a destiny in the Force, had found a beast forever linked to the Sith due to their initial creation during his ordeal… The idea bothered her far more than it should’ve. Yet, as she watched the young beast roll over and expose its belly to her Padawan, Fay couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed at their newest travelling companion.

“And when and where did you discover… Fenrir?” The name sounded strange, and she couldn’t place where it came from. There was something in it though, something that hinted at danger, and she’d have to use the Jedi Archives to search for mentions of the word to confirm her theory.

“We found him in the Tantajoc system,” Cameron replied sheepishly, which was confusing to Fay. “I-um, accidentally may have formed a bond with him when we met, but he was just so frightened that I wanted to help him feel better.” That explained Cameron’s behaviour, though not Master Dooku’s.

She turned to her fellow Jedi Master and raised an eyebrow. His reply was nothing more than a shrug, but it was enough to confirm that he’d intentionally withheld this fact to surprise her.

While there was nothing inherently wrong with that, it did mean she now felt a need to… return the favour.

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“How’s the loading going?”

Bo didn’t turn at my question, though even with the armour on, I could see her tense. “Supplies are loaded and we’re ready to leave whenever you are.” With that statement, she stalked towards the landing ramp of the Ne’tra Sartr and I sighed. While I understood her reasoning for being so stiff with me, I wasn’t even close to happy about it.

It had been about a week since I’d come out of the bacta tank and three days since I’d talked to Bo about that kiss. I’d explained that I’d done it purely to help centre myself after being freed of the mask – and I’d barely managed to suppress a full-body shiver at even thinking about that thing – and apologised for how I’d kissed her and overstepping our friendship by taking advantage of her in that moment. I considered trying to explain that I’d needed the grounding to calm the incessant voices in my head demanding I kill everyone on the Bando Gora base for what had been done to me, but that was not something I wanted to dump on her. I wasn’t going to use it as an excuse, no matter how true it was.

An awkward silence that stretched into minutes had developed as I’d waited for her response. I’d sensed a growing pool of anger from her. However, instead of punching me as I’d expected her to do – at a minimum – she’d just asked why we hadn’t gone to Mandalore as it was far closer to Bogdan – the system the Bando Gora base was in – than the Lokella system; especially as there were better and more readily available medical facilities under the control of her father.

I’d explained what I’d suggested to Dooku about why he’d brought me here, even if I didn’t entirely agree with his thinking. That had drawn a snort from Bo followed by a shake of her head. She’d bluntly told me that we’d misread the culture – and she seemed annoyed at me more than Dooku about this – as to the Mando’ade, there was no shame in coming back from a battle gravely wounded. So long as the warrior fought well and with honour, which she assured me I had even if I’d been more aggressive than she’d expected, and that the warrior learnt from their injuries, then there was no dishonour involved.

Before I could comment on that – and the more I considered it the more it made perfect sense – she turned and walked away and since then, had been blunt and standoffish with me. Not once had she stayed in a training area of the station to spar with me, and when both of us were in the firing range and she realised it, she left. Then again, given what Observe had revealed - when I’d used it on her as she’d walked away after I’d given my explanation - it was hardly a surprise. Bo was, rather unexpectedly, confused about how my kiss had made her feel, felt I’d abused her in kissing her how I had and wasn’t happy about me not talking about the kiss as anything more than a way to re-centre myself.

Honestly, I didn’t want to even bring up how the kiss made us both feel, mainly because I’d prefer to not deal with such things, but I realised we’d need to talk about that before we reached Coruscant, and give her a fuller explanation of why I’d done what I’d done. Hopefully, she’d be able to move on from it, and lose the confusion she was experiencing. From there, I could work on restoring any trust she’d lost in me - though it was hard to tell exactly how much her opinion of me had fallen as Reputation was only ever a range and not exact figures - and we could return to how things used to be.

The only time she had been more civil was whenever Anakin was around. There, she’d done her best to act normal, but I knew Anakin knew something was up. Thankfully, he never brought it up when all three of us were together, though he did ask a few times privately if things were going to go back to how they had been between me and Bo.

I told him they would, but it would take time. What’d I’d not mentioned to him was that, with me and Bo going back to Coruscant, that time would likely be extended. Bo had made it clear that while she would still be travelling with us, she’d be staying on the Sartr with HK – who I was not going to bring anywhere near the Temple with the shitstorm I was about to walk into, no matter how much he professed to wanting to see how skilled the current era of Jedi were – instead of residing as a guest of the Jedi.

Having the pair stay on the ship was probably for the best as the idea of an irritated Mandalorian running around the Temple was a recipe for disaster. Plus, the more Bo avoided the temple the less likely it was that Serra or anyone else learnt about my kiss with Bo. Yes, it hadn’t been a romantic gesture, and yes things between me and Serra were far more comfortable, but it was far safer to avoid stirring the pot in that regard; particularly as it had been the drug-induced visions of Serra that had tricked me into falling for Vosa’s trap in the first place.

Yet even if Bo wasn’t in the Temple, the odds of her avoiding trouble on Coruscant were slim. The surface of the ecumenopolis was generally safe and orderly, once you headed down a few dozen levels, things became a lot murkier and dangerous. Or so I’d heard as I’d not had the chance to explore there personally. And there was no way that Bo wouldn’t head down there the first chance she got. If she got into any real trouble – unlikely so long as she didn’t go too far down – then I’d likely have to go and help her, which would just give the Council further ammunition to use against me.

I sighed and shook my head before looking up at the ceiling of the landing bay. I had to be overreacting, hadn’t I? I mean, how much trouble could one Mandalorian get into on the capital world of the Republic?

I put those concerns aside and looked up to a walkway that overlooked the bay. I already knew Anakin was standing there and saw that his mother, Baalta and other members of the Lokella ruling council had gathered to see us off. Even without the Force, it was easy to tell Anakin wasn’t happy about me leaving again so soon after waking up, but he’d been so enamoured with the Sartr’s schematics that I think he wasn’t as put out as he was the last time we left. Force, he’d already found a way to improve the Sartr’s power efficiency by two per cent. It wasn’t much, but both Bo and HK had been impressed with the change, though HK was still a little sceptical of Anakin being of much worth, but that might just be because Anakin was still a child.

If there were more upgrades to come when I next spoke with Anakin, I’d see about having them sent to Duke Adonai, for a small commission for Anakin of course. Beyond improving our friendship, it was a logical step to take in improving the forces of the best military ally I had.

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