Ask Discovery on Lysatra

[Ransom Caldwell]

Discovery on Lysatra

​

Ransom Caldwell pushed back from the command console of the Gozanti Freighter, Kalikori. With excitement in his step he turned and checked the read-out monitor of the modified freighter’s scanning equipment with a joy in a sense of purpose. There was a faint signal coming from below the planet’s surface. He looked down to his datapad, cross-referencing telemetric data points and energy signatures. Rance was trying to pinpoint the signal as close as he could but was having diminishing returns as time went on. At least he had it narrowed to a couple dozen kilometers. He keyed Kalikori's PA system.

“Corda, Cardamom, Callywhomp, what’s your name again? Can you come up to the bridge, please? Thank you.” He chortled into the receiver.

Cawdry, the brightest of Dr. Caldwell’s interns came through the gangway moments later with a frustrated look on his face. “It’s Cawdry, Dr. Caldwell, Cawdry.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Cattleprod? After all, you are my favorite intern. Just be happy I’m not calling you, ‘Intern A,’ or ‘Disposable Assistant Alpha.” Ranse smiled warmly at the young Corellian man, barely rounding his 22nd year, “You know I do this to keep the others on their toes. If they found out I favored you above the other--”

Cawdry balked, “They already do know that! How could they not? They’re bright enough to make it here! What makes you think they’re too dumb to figure that out? The least you could do is model what it’s like to be respectful to them.”

The archaeologist reeled from the outburst. “Look Cawdry, this is how it was when I was an intern, so this is how it's going to be for you.”

Incredulously, the young intern took a step forward threateningly brandishing a purposeful finger, “And just because a previous generation did something poorly does not mean that one must perpetuate the cycle.”

Ranse stopped and stepped closer to him, uncomfortably close. “Perhaps you are right, pupil and I will endeavor to change my ways, but trust me, if you step to me like that agai--”

“What did you want anyway, Doc?” Cawdry interrupted.

“We’re heading down in a few hours, we aren’t going to get any further with this equipment from orbit. Will you prep the Theodolite?” Ranse pivoted to the new topic, unsure the result of continuing the conflict. “Assign someone to stay in orbit and organize the team to be in the shuttle by 0900 galactic.”

“You got it, Doc. Do you think we’ll find that droid you’re looking for?”

Ranse smiled, “Whether we find what I’m looking for is irrelevant, with a little bit of gumption and the Force willing, we will find something no matter what. Remember, Coddy-boy, our duty is to knowledge first, our personal pursuits second. Not a lot is known about Lysatra and less about its role in galactic history. And after that recording in Cheunh we found about the Grysk, there is clearly more to this planet than we thought. They deserve to be adequately represented in the history records.”

“I agree, but the way you talk about this droid, it would seem it would contribute more knowledge than any ancient, decrepit mortar and pestle we may find.” Cawdry challenged.

“Perhaps so, but nevertheless, we have a grant to maintain and I sincerely doubt the Denon Archaeological Society is all too keen on funding my pet projects without any demonstrable returns. We’ve got to keep our supply to them consistent if I’m going to ever find this droid. The droid is a long-game. For the time being, we should stick with mortar and pestle.” Ransom Caldwell clapped the young man on the shoulder. “We must be patient.”

“You’re starting to sound like a Jedi.”

Rance bowed a little, “Gah! One can only hope, my friend. I’ll see you in a few hours, I’m going to send a report to Denon before we head down.” He keyed the comm-relay messaging system.

::::Dr. Caldwell to DAS records administration.::: Have exhausted orbital observation methods. Will proceed to planetfall to pinpoint and investigate phenomenon. Sensors are ineffective at this range implying that communication will be limited. Power readings of the object are originating from under the planet's surface--likely a mine, temple, shelter, or ancient refrigeration catacombs. Will determine. Considerations to underground access points are the primary concern. I’m reluctant to bring the Kalikori into orbit to unearth the object and am unlikely to do so under any circumstances. It is not in the best interest to cause unnecessary damage. Will proceed on speeder with shuttle spotting locations, exhume an entrance if necessary, and proceed down until my team identifies the source of the signal and can facilitate extraction. Will report in time. Caldwell Out.::::

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

A little over an hour later, Ransom emerged from his quarters in full survey gear. In his training on Denon, his instructors had always espoused the logic that it's better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. It was a truly a literally heavy mantra. Suspension cables, scanning and survey equipment, sample cases, rations, and so many other things went in to prepping a long excursion such as this. It weighed him down to some degree, which is why there was a quick release to his pack situated on the front-most strap that could be easily tugged causing the pack to drop in case of emergencies where Rance might need a little more speed. Carrying the pack wasn't a burden to him, he was fit and able, but on more than one occasion he'd had to drop his gear to defend himself. Being attacked while hanging on to an old relic of a bygone era was not uncommon. Those things had value and others often wanted them for their own. Defending himself against the fauna of an alien world was not uncommon either. Hell, he'd even fought off flora on a few occasions.

He turned to leave his quarters and his slugthrower on the wall above the exit caught his eye. Lysatra had dangerous animals but as far as he could tell, the region the signal was coming from hadn't any overly large predators. But it wasn't the animals he was concerned about. He slung it on his back and took his hold-out blaster, checked the charge on the old EC-17 and, holstered it to his breast strap. He preferred his weapon slung high and tight. Close to the chest, as it were. Too often he found himself in positions--stuck in a crack or the like--wherein accessing his hips was actually much more of a challenge. And lastly he took his machete up over his shoulder and secured it at his back. Ready, he proceeded down the Gozanti's deck to the hatch that connected their T-1 shuttle to the underside. It was old, but still sleek and attractive and worked fine. An interesting juxtaposition when docked with the lumbering and inelegant Gozanti. Rance made purchases out of sound utility, not based on attractiveness or what other's thought of it.

Tapping a few keys, the hatch opened, he dropped his pack and rifle in, and jumped down after them. He turned and looked up to the hatch in just enough time to catch Cawdry's bag as he tossed it down.

"She's good to go, Doc." He called out just before he swung down himself. He turned and caught another's bag, and the next person did the same in time. Rance did try to remember all of his intern's names, and he really was joking with Cawdry, but it was true that some of them did just come and go and he'd been at it for a few years. Sure, he remembered everyone on his first crew but as time went on and more students came and went, it became harder for them to become memorable. Nevertheless, here they were. He settled walked to the cockpit, Cawdry not far behind. Rance moved out of the way just as they entered and Cawdry sat down in the pilots seat, Rance setting his hand on the shoulder of it and looking over the sensor readings to the planet below.

"Start ignition check and begin debarking procedure." Cawdry called to no one in particular. He toggled switches and actuated levers until a voice chimed into the cockpit.

"All systems check, release in 3...2..." said the controller on the Kalikori. At the mark they felt a subtle rumble as the ship shook away from the clamps of the airlock. Stars drifted in the field beyond as The Theodolite adjusted course away from it's mothership and it began its descent into the atmosphere.

Lysatra was largely uncatalogued and it wasn't until they came across a message in Cheunh--on an old piece of equipment they'd found on Jeddha--that they'd even heard of Lysatra. Rance wanted one more listen. He reached over Cawdry and keyed the recording in the ships computer. It scrolled across the screen and Rance lightly spoke it aloud, mostly to himself.

"...Aristocra, we have found the Church of the Force's droid. It is proving very stubborn. I would just as soon destroy it but I don't think the Acolytes of Beyond would appreciate that. Regardless, we're almost to Lysatra, our drop point but ... hey! I thought we'd deactivated you... put that away or someon---"

Rance sighed, "and it cuts out."

Cawdry looked focused on flying but was clearly listening intently. Rance worked it out aloud.

"So from what we know, the Aristocra are, or was, a ruling family in the Chiss Oligarchy. This person charged with finding the droid... or whatever he was charged to find when he found the droid... was either a Chiss themselves, or hired by them. They, assumedly, were hired to seek out The Church of the Force and no doubt were either working with the blessing of the Acolytes of Beyond, or under their noses. They had a drop point to deliver the droid to a secret location on Lysatra whether to the Acolytes or the Ascendency, or even a third party, is unknown. Regardless, both entities are vastly formidable and we should be cautious. We don't know what we're walking into and if worse comes to worst and its an old acolyte temple full of fanatics well... I suppose we would just have to figure that out then, wont we?"

Cawdry chimed in with a crucial point, "but we've established that communication from planetside back to Kalikori is going to be a challenge. Doc, if it's dangerous down there, it is unlikely we will be able to call for help. And even if we did, who on the Kalikori is going to help us? I suppose they could bring the cruiser down and scare them, but she's not much good for anything other than hauling our equipment around."

Rance considered this. It wasn't a new state of affairs, but being this far out of known space, with no support system, fledgling and warring parties throughout the galaxy, and walking into a place with a high value target sought after by very dangerous people, he was safe to say, reticent about the whole ordeal. "I can take you back to the Kalikori if you'd like."

"Do not mistake my caution for cowardice, doc." Cawdry rebutted, "I was merely pointing out variables, no one has heard high nor low of the Acolytes of Beyond for over a century...as far as I know."

His instructor took the seat next to him and turned to look at him. "In all seriousness, Coddy. This could be dangerous. If there's anything we know about the Sith and their fanatics, its that they never... repeat... never... truly go away. Their hate holds on like a Vornskr with a taste of Purrgil."

Cawdry interrupted - "have you ever seen a Purrgil?!"

Rance silenced him- "focus! Yes, I have, once. I intend to look for more later. Anyway, my point is that if we only ever operate in fear of the Dark Side and its agents, we would always lose to it. Apathy is death." His pupil nodded and gestured to the horizon.

"We're coming up on our site now." He keyed the shuttles intercom, "Prepare for landing."

Ransom Caldwell focused his mind as the ship finished its descent. He thought on the little he knew of The Force, The Whills, and remembered what he learned from The Church of the Force priest who'd visited his parents' shop and whispered it just so loud that Cawdry could hear and participate. Cawdry came in on the second line and the two recited as the ship touched down in a small clearing leading into a rocky chasm on the surface of Lysatra.

"First comes the day
Then comes the night.
After the darkness
Shines through the light.
The difference, they say,
Is only made right
By the resolving of gray
Through refined Jedi sight."

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Rance keyed the blaster cannons on Theodolite to defend friendly targets within the perimeter of their basecamp as he got up from beside Cawdry in the cockpit.

The two other interns, a Selkath named Risho, and Coti Rama, a thin blue Faust, were the first down the ramp of Theodolite. Excitedly putting sensor markers around the perimeter of the ship, they set off to their work. As 1st years, they handled local relations, and performing standard tests and surveys. Effectively staying safe and within reasonable distance of the ship. There was always something to study and they would get to work cataloguing local flora, fauna, and cultural touchpoints. One leaving to collect data, the other resting and researching the data brought to Theodolite. The base of operations was always staffed and guarded.

Rance's cohort had a responsibility to bring back as much data about the places he visited as possible which meant that if all they collectively focused on were hunting down the hard-to-find items, they would rarely have anything to produce for his benefactors. Hence the need for multiple interns. Being able to go on chasm-diving adventures was not for the incompetent. And the mundane tasks of picking flowers and collecting bugs tested his younger colleagues' discipline and mettle before putting them in potentially life-threatening situations. Also, what right did he have to put students in a situation where they could potentially come in conflict with Chiss warriors or, force forbid, a Sith. It was as much about keeping them safe as it was about being sure they were ready. Those two, were not. And that was okay. There is so little known about Lysatra that they would not be at a loss for studies. Rance looked up at the sky, and consulted his datapad. He wasn’t sure if the weather would hold but then again, they didn’t know enough about the meteorology, but the equipment could extrapolate. The archaeologist turned to the crew. “Make sure to get decent weather readings so we can have a good idea of what to expect."

After Rance had met with each of them and outlined his itinerary and their orders, he shook their hands and reminded them, "make sure to eat. Geeks like us get lost in our work and end up unhealthy robots looking for the next nugget of knowledge. Remember you'll never know it all, so don't kill yourself looking for it. Stay calm, stay consistent. I'll contact you if we need pickup or assistance."

The two made their salutations, and Cawdry and Rance mounted their speeder bikes, Cawdry’s towed a crate of supplies and extra gear. Ransom had often favored decommissioned or out-of-service military tech. It was cheap, relatively reliable, somewhat easy to find, and easy to maintain. Hence the Gozanti, the 74-Zs, his blaster, a lot of his stuff was Empire tech that was almost 200 years old. But it worked, and the empire was so ubiquitous about the galaxy that most still recognize it as formidable and reliable. Which worked in his favor as he would always rather avoid a fight, regardless of whether he was capable in one.

Rance pulled down his goggles and fastened his cloak to his body being sure to tighten the face mask and hood tightly over his head. He nodded to his student and they both shot off toward the chasm. At almost 500 units per hour, the ride would not take longer than 10 minutes at a healthy pace with gear in tow. The terrain was relatively uneventful, an occasional group of bushes or rock outcrops would hinder their forward progress but for the most part, boring. Ransom could enter his mind and focus his thoughts. He appreciated that about piloting. One was doing something instinctive so one part of their mind was active enough to help balance the other, often overworked side. Though ten minutes was not a long time to prepare, he did fortify himself mentally for the challenge that would be unearthing this long lost secret. Not only did he have to plunge himself willingly into an unexplored chasm, he had to do so in search of something that many in the galaxy would kill to find.

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Coming to a graceful, gliding halt, the two powered down the bikes and began unloading the crate in tow. This had been a routine they had done numerous times. Through practice, repetition, and experimentation, they had this process down to a science. They were, after all, scientists. Pulling a massive climbing anchor from the top of the crate, Ransom rammed it hard into the ground and grav-locked the speeders to it. On the back of each speeder was a wench and pulley. One of the most useful things, a wench. When on expeditions, it was often necessary to pull food and supplies up from the ground and away from predators, a wench over a tree limb did this easily. It was also necessary to be able to pull heavy objects out of the ground in order to get at ancient ruins. And it was also seemingly necessary to descend fathoms upon fathoms of depths into the core of a planet in order to maybe, if they’re lucky, find a robot--or at least a trace of one.


Still, Rance liked wenches. He was even fond of the whir they made.


“Doc….Doc!”


Dr. Caldwell snapped out of his wenchy daydreams. “Yeah, sorry. What’s up?”


“Your harness, man.”


Cawdry had been holding it out for him for an unreasonable amount of time. So much for focusing his thoughts, Rance chastised himself as he secured the harness to his survey suit. “Lock the anchor?”


“Aye Doc.” Cawdry replied, keying a command into the object. It resembled a security spike in the way they drill into computer terminals--it screwed itself lazily into the earth. After the plunger met its terminus four sharp legs shot out from the sides and followed a similar mission to a lesser scale. “Anchor secured.”


“Alright, bikes are locked to the anchor--thats not going anywhere. Harnesses and line secured. Are we forgetting anything?”


Cawdry replied, “Yeah, one thing. If we find the droid and it’s deactivated or not compliant, how will we get it back up?”


Rance was baffled, “Why… we’ll use the wench my boy!” and with that he ran straight at the chasm, leapt off into oblivion, did a spry 180 degree turn with a wave as he fell out of Cawdry’s view.


Cawdry followed. And down they went.

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Theatrics had their drawbacks. They were intense, sometimes dangerous, and at times should be avoided. But they weren’t without their merits. You could flummox a foe, dazzle a damsel, or demonstrate achievable prowess to an overconfident student. Rance’s focus narrowed and the world moved around him as he plunged into the dangerous depths. Sharp crags jutted out from unusually distorted eroded earth, during the slow down of adrenaline, he made a calm mental note to look at them when he wasn’t plummeting to his very-possible doom. As his descent accelerated and the 180 of his leap threatened to over rotate him he gently squeezed the belay device and tightened elements of his core and limbs to control his body's tension on the cable. He steadied his rotation and used the gravity of the fall to act as a course correction. Focus your mass downward, control your breathing, he coached himself.


He had made all of those considerations before Cawdry had even cleared the ledge. Rance slowed his descent until his student caught up.


Cawdry noticed the irregularities paying no mind to his instructor's performance. “Doc, did you see the pattern of erosion on these rocks? It’s almost as if it’s been eroded in every direction at once and...not in any repeatable or predictable pattern. What kind of machine, anomaly...or entity,” he added, “could do something like this?”


“Welcome to the fun part of the job, kid. I don’t know. Maybe no one does, but we get paid to try and find out. Keep your eyes peeled for anything peculiar and start taking readings as we go down. It seems we have quite a ways to go.”


Ransom Caldwell looked beyond his feet to the depths of the chasm below. It kept going, so he stopped thinking about it. He instead couldn’t get over how proud he was of Cawdry. He had been with Rance for quite some time at this point--almost 5 years. He’d always teased him about not remembering his name but the truth was that Cawdry was introduced during only Rance’s third year teaching and his second in-field cohort. So really, Cawdry was his sophomore attempt at producing a protégé. Rance was damned pleased with the result.


The archaeologists kept taking readings as they proceeded down and down. A long time past and the more they went, the more it increasingly looked as if chunks of earth exploded out of the walls of the chasm, hurled themselves around the edges of the chasm back and forth and up and down with no logic or form. Chunks of sedimentary rock embedded in igneous rock that looked so wrong Rance was almost physically uncomfortable. Generally sedimentary rock was much less dense than igneous and there would be no way that the former could penetrate the latter. But here they were, staring at it with their own eyes. “You see that?” Rance begged.


Cawdry - “I don’t like it. It’s making me nervous.”


Rance scoffed in agreement - “You know… The Force makes it very hard to do science sometimes. You know? We work our whole lives to test rules and laws and then some cosmic entity channeled through some megalomaniacal religious fanatic just throws the whole natural system for a loop. It’s kriffing frustrating. Especially when you’re trying to tell someone how a culture or civilization came to be and they just dismiss you because they claim their deity had more to do with it. And you know what, deity or no deity, science still matters! The Force or no Force, gravity still exists damnit!”


And at that moment. Their descent stopped as the wench ran out of line.


“Karking poetic” Rance guffawed.


Cawdry hung relaxed using the hiccup to rest. He pulled out a small ration stick and spoke through a full mouth, “You really think it’s The Force and not some machine?”


“Nothing like that. Not at all. I have no idea. In some instances, they are the same thing. Some ancient cultures created machines that drew on force energy to achieve nefarious ends. This could be one such machine, they could be using the power of something like kyber crystals to extract some ore out of the ground and hurl it around the chasm in the process, but that doesn’t explain the distortion of density. That is mind-boggling. Any theories?” Rance took the cue and stuffed his own face, quaffing a gulp of water after he devoured the stick.


“I mean… it’s almost as if its matter-reconstruction. Do we know of anything or anyone that could have ever done that?”


“Well the records are mostly expunged, but a fragment of a Jedi technique that Emperor Palpatine held onto through the purge mentioned a thing called shatterpoint where a force-weilder could find the weakest part of an object 's molecular makeup and create space in that area, causing the whole structure to fragment. I believe that was practiced by a Jedi named Mage Window if I recall correctly. I'm pretty sure if Palpatine had been a little more creative, he could have used that concept to create a singularity."


Cawdry looked confused, “Really dumb name.”


“Mage Window? I’m probably remembering it wrong.” Rance admitted, “Regardless, if we know that is possible through The Force, it may stand to reason that if one could amplify that ability, they may be able to do something to this effect. But that sort of power in an individual is unheard of.”


“What about a group of individuals.”


Rance raised his eyebrows considering it but not yet ready to accept it. “Perhaps. We may be able to better understand how this happened by examining why it happened.” The teacher looked at his colleague/student studying his face as if it had answers. He did this from time to time when he was deep in thought, trying to find answers in the wisdom another was capable of but had not yet realized. Cawdry was used to this by now. Early in their relationship it gravely unnerved him. Now he just stared back and let him study.


“Surely someone wrote this down in some history somewhere on the planet.” Cawdry said.


Still suspended, Rance pulled his commlink from his belt and tapped a receiving code doing a few casual spins on the line while he was talking, eyes darting around the chasm as he waited for a response. “Go ahead, Doc” came through from the other end.


“Have you all found anything out about the chasm yet?” Rance asked.


“Yeah Doc, the locals were very uncomfortable when I asked them about it but I at least got a name for it, they call it The Fissure of the Unsheathed.”


Cawdry cackled - “Sounds like someone didn’t take reproductive educa--”


Rance held one hand up to his mouth to cover laughter and the other begging Cawdry to stop. “Right and did they have any idea when, how, or why it was formed?”


“Well boss, no. But I do know that long ago, their ancestors used it for ritual sacrifice to a god-king called Sekteth, which after I consulted the translator is also the same word they use for Iridium.” Rance's eyes darted to Cawdry who met them earnestly. ”May just be coincidence, Doc but you might take that into consideration” said the intern on the com.


“Good advice. Anything else?” Ransom queried.


“Doc, the local Corka fruit tastes like pickled nerf… it’s incredible.” The two chasm-divers looked at each other with disgust on their faces. Clearly there was a disconnect between Faust preferences and Human preferences when it came to dining. Or maybe Coti Rama had been poisoned, or sick. No, Rance was convinced he was just gross.


“Thanks Coti, see what else you can find. And you might try to get a message up to Kalikori and see if it can focus its sensors to detect iridium levels of the planet. Let me know as soon as you get through and then if they find anything.”


“You got it, Doc.” he called back.


Rance nodded to Cawdry and tugged at the cable, looked down, as far as he could tell, the chasm wouldn’t end. “What can you find about the signal?”


“We lucked out, it’s actually only about 10 meters below us over that way. Well, the x-axis is, but it’s still about 30 meters on the other side of that wall.” He replied.


“Can you see anything that looks like an access point?” Rance asked.


“You think they violently extracted a bunch of iridium and in the process also made the tunnels after they were done? Why would they need tunnels if they could just yank it up through the crust?” Cawdry challenged.


“Lots of time has passed, someone came here and built something in this place. We’ve seen it in countless worlds, temples built where the Force ebbs strong. Both light and dark.” Rance looked around, “and it is very dark down here. I’d put my money there’s some kind of force sect ruins in the area, of what persuasion or what organization, I have no idea.”


Nothing in the chasm looked natural, or even man-made. It was all so alien, near-extragalactic even. He squinted and saw a very shallow shelf with rubble accumulated on it. He would have mistaken it for a collection of sediment grouped around a crag except that the surface was planar and flat. He pulled out his macrobinoculars. Steadying himself on the cable with one hand and bringing them to his eyes, he zoomed in and saw exactly what he’d hoped for. There was a long-since-retired hitching post with a small ring coming off the top of it. “That’s it!” Rance exclaimed and stuffed his macrobinoculars back in the bag and exchanged it for a high powered grappling gun. He took careful aim and launched it at the collection of rocks, it clattered around and did not strike true. Rance reeled it in and tried again. It took a few tries, the compression of air would send him swinging backward as soon as he loosed the hook and it would askew the trajectory of the hook. He had to anticipate that and compensate. It took about 15 tries. Cawdry offering to do it for three of them before he dismissed himself from the task and handed it back to Rance.


Finally they got it and Rance coupled the cable from the wench to the grappling cable and applied a squeeze brake to the newly secure grappling cable and descended, quickly making it to the ledge. He called up to Cawdry, hands cupped around his mouth to amplify his voice.


“Go back up and get ready to secure the crate to the motor and then to the line! I’m going to secure this end to the ring and we’ll bring the crate down! We should be able to move pretty freely back---!”


He was interrupted by a deafening screech from below them.


“GO!” Ransom ordered. “Go now! You can recall the wench much faster than I can get back up this grappling line. If you can… send me something bigger than a slugthrower.” Cawdry was already moving on the first command. Rance had trained his students that no matter who gave the order to duck, they understood only a fool would ask why. He only hoped he heard his request for munitions. The archaeologist quickly secured the hook to the ring and tested its integrity. It wasn’t going anywhere and felt like it could hold a Star Destroyer in suspension. He cleared some space on the ledge--there wasn’t much. He unslung his slugthrower and yanked the quick release on his pack and it fell to the ground. He trained the rifle on the infinite black below as the screech erupted once again. Whatever that was, it did not sound friendly. And it was getting closer. A crunch, crunch, crunch of crushing rock came up rhythmically in conjunction with the screeches. It was climbing. He shouldn't have yelled. He knew better. Corrupted things live in corrupted place. He squeezed the trigger until the hammer was just barely under its release point, the slightest increase in pressure and it would crack a superheated slug right at whatever came to him. While not indiscriminate when dealing with adversaries, he was certainly decisive. If this creature meant him ill, it would be stopped on intention. Rance had no intention of waiting until it struck first.

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Cawdry ascended up the cable at a blinding pace. He feathered the brake expertly slowing himself down before he reached the top. He quickly mag-locked the crate to the cable and looked below in just enough time to see a flash from Ransom's slugthrower. The crack came shortly thereafter. He keyed the crate open and began running it off of the ledge, leaping after it, and landed awkwardly inside it, uncomfortably situated amongst an array of equipment. He did his best to get most of his body out of it and straddle the mag lock as he dug around in the crate for charges. Zipping down the line in a crate was not standard operating procedure for Cawdry and he struggled to accomplish his goal.

*****

Ransom focused as the crunching rocks progressed closer to him. It was too close now. And then he saw it.

Claw after claw clambered over each other. Rance counted 6 appendages in total and noticed no eyes on the creature. Holding very still, the teacher focused down the scope of his rifle and waited for the creature to pass.

Rance was wrong. The creature kept coming straight for him as it let out another gutteral scream. Rance squeezed the trigger and let fly a slug that struck true inside the creatures mouth. It was unfazed. Firing another, he backed up and took a more defensive posture closer to the side of the chasm and away from the ledge and couldn't tell if it struck.

Had he not a good image of it before, he was getting one now. The creature rounded the small purchase and its head was larger than the entire landing, its body curled under the ledge. It was investigating Rance, seemingly trying to find the right way to attack. Rance tucked his rifle under his armpit and drew his holdout blaster and trained it on the creature just as he noticed what was coming in behind it.

Cawdry... inside the crate.. was about to run smack dab into the back of the creatures head. Rance turned and dove for the ground as the crate met its terminus. Made of durasteel, the crate suffered little damage. However, the creature was not so lucky. The speed that the crate had gained was such that upon collision, it snapped the creatures head forward and into the small ledge. Bouncing backward from the blow, the creature fell back into the abyss. The crate swung to and fro attempting to recover from the impact. Cawdry white-knuckled trying to stay situated above and inside it as it struck and then as it landed on the ledge. An audible crunch and scream came from further down the chasm. Cawdry lost his grip after the crate collided with the rock-face and fell next to Ransom.

Ransom blinked.

"Done messing around?"

Cawdry laughed

"You asked for something bigger than a slugthrower. Besides, we just killed two bugs with one crate. Now we don't have to go back up to get the supplies."

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

After a brief respite to catch their breath and take a draft of water, Cawdry went back up to check in with the others as Rance reinforced the line, set up a few spotlights, and assembled the excavation equipment. The power cell clicked into place and the unit hummed to life. Sharp lights of red, blue, and green splayed out over the topography of the chasm. It sent out clicks and chirps from sonic sensors, Puffs of air met with quick suction into a vacuum. The internals of the seemingly rickety thing whirred and clicked as it recorded as much sensory data as it could. A largely bronzium apparatus with twig-like arrays and knobby relays, it looked like a poor childs toy as it attempted to penetrate the chasm walls--finding the most appropriate way of penetrating the iridium-dense rock to whatever lie beyond. It was struggling. Rance made quick adjustments to dials and knobs, bouncing around the thing, troubleshooting the system, hoping it normalizes and begins to do its job effectively. Experimental and custom technology was a fickle mistress. This continued even as Cawdry made his return descent, interrupting laser light absorbed by his silhouetted form, he slowed and uncoupled himself from the line.

"So the kids up there got in a bit of a fight." Cawdry reported, used to Rance's frantic ritual.

As if on cue, Rance stood back from the technical readout, crossed his arms, recalling that Clone Wars Jedi that learned the Shatterpoint technique...Max Windstorm? Mast Wonder? Mix Rondu? He chided himself. For such a great historian and archaeologist, he sure was bad with names and dates. At least he'd never forget Luke Skywalker's master, Yaddle. He shook his unfocused mind and zeroed in on the machine that was still refusing to find its center. With a stillness of mind, using his desire to ignore Cawdry, Ransom Caldwell centered himself by taking a deep breath. Visualizing everything but the machine as a blur, he saw it, that one thing that the machine needed. The archaologist raised his hand dramatically, and abruptly whacked the hulk with his spanner. With two resounding clicks and a chirp of approval, the machine buzzed without hiccup, retracting most of its sensor array. Miraculously running normally, it began making calculations--preliminary reports suggested the underground tunnels were not all linked and many straight bores from their originating location to this chasm. He'd have to look at that later. Instead he resolved to indulging Cawdry.

Rance reached into the crate and produced and sat on a small wood and canvas collapsible chair. He had little patience for those two at times. They were fast friends but tended to fight more like siblings. He sighed and indulged his student who stood mouth agape after his decisive victory over his machine.

"What about this time?" Rance said, snapping Cawdry out of it.

"Well, Coti got some nugget of wisdom in some small private collection in town and refused to trade shifts with Risho. So naturally, Risho got upset that she'd not been to town yet and was just stuck taking pictures of the same bug for four hours and needed a break."

Rance interrupted him, "what'd they find?"

"I think they found their situation immutable. Risho felt the information was of the utmost importance and Coti was justifiably frustrated. He felt as if he may be able to come across something equally as important but different than Risho and if -"

Rance closed his eyes and through clenched teeth, seethed out, "...no Cawdry, what'd Risho find in the collection?" Rance said, opening his eyes to a fodder-eating grin on Cawdry's face. This was how he got back at him for sometimes treating him like an idiot. It was effective.

"Well, Risho stumbled on an collection of what seemed like ancient fishing equipment. Firs thing she examined was a large ivory tooth with ancient Grysk text scrimshawed in the side. Unreadable but there was also an image on the tooth of a plated leviathan. This is not abnormal imagery so she hadn't thought much of it until she stumbled on a few harpoon tips. Doc, they were made of iridium--we have a hard time working with that material now. I'm not even sure how we're going to get through this rock and it only has traces of the stuff in it. Speaking of, The Kalikori checked in as well, it would seem the only significant amount of iridium they could find was the walls of the chasm itself. They said trace elements suggest that it was almost as if all the iridium on the planet had been pulled to this location. No accounting for what happened in the chasm itself though." The student explained.

"Fissure of the Unsheathed. Harpoon heads. A Leviathan. Iridium condensation. What makes Risho think they're linked?"

"Well sir, that wasn't the end of the collection. There was a small ivory pyramid that was both heavy, and delicate," he answered.

"She thinks it a holocron," Ransom surmised.

"Yes sir."

"Could the leviathan be that creature you clobbered?" Ransom asked.

"Not a chance. I had her send an image. Sir, I have never seen anything like it."

Cawdry held out his hand and switched on a holoimage. Rance felt his blood turn cold. Were he a Jedi, he would have thought that what a tremor in The Force felt like. And for some reason, spoke a name he knew instinctively. As a instinctively as a bantha knows to run from a krayt dragon.

"Sekteth."

Behind them a small stone gave way, a pressure plate dropped and what followed was the most remarkable thing either of them had ever seen.

 

[Fiach Dubh]

“There should be a formal training session at the Academy,” Fiach mused out loud as she wrestled with an imminent power failure, “where Jedi are told that the term ‘routine mission’ invariably means ‘a life or death scenario.’”

It had been a simple couple of jobs – first she had to meet a xenobiologist on Vixnix, in the quaintly named ‘Stinky Jawa Cantina’ which on the positive side was not stinky, but disappointingly did not contain any Jawas. And since she was in Wild Space, she felt obliged to check out Lost Murvey. This was a site where, allegedly, pirate Queen Maz Kanata hid a portion of the spoils from her reign there in a buried vault equipped with a antitamper sub-space alarm. It was the sort of place she’d loved to have spent a great deal of time at – it was suggested that she had Jedi artefacts amongst her possession – but she knew she did not have the luxury of such an indulgence.

She was pondering the feasibility of asking for a leave of absence to explore the site when she received a request to check out activity on a nearby planet. Lysatra to be precise. It was isolated and near the Unknown Regions, but given she was already in Wild Space, she was the logical choice to attend.

But her ship was in trouble and she knew it. As soon as she’d exited hyperspace it had started thrashing around like a bucking bantha.

“Come on, come on,” she implored the ship as she was almost thrown out of her seat in the cockpit. She flicked switches on the main console as warning lights flashed on and off and, try as she might, the control stick wouldn't turn.

The ship shook, buffeting her in her seat.

Her astromech droid gave a series of whistles and bleeps as it too was finding it a challenge to remain vertical.

“I hear you Tookay,” she said, “I’m doing my best.”

The droid gave another burst of bleeps.

“My best is my best,” she explained, “debating if it is good enough is of limited benefit – believe me. Better you gave your attention to helping me, yes?”

The R2 unit had been assembled by Fiach as a project and she had grown attached to the droid. He was fussy, argumentative and exceptionally annoying, but he was her ever-present companion and she valued his insight.

“We’re coming up on the planet,” she said, glancing up through the cockpit’s canopy, where a small planet was growing ever larger.

Kaytoo bleeped mournfully.

“Of course we’ll make it, as long as we don't fall to bits first.”

There was a sharp crack from above, and sparks flew from the console’s power indicators.

She smiled ruefully. “That was not an invitation,” she added, wafting smoke away from her face. “Kaytoo, what’s happening?”

The droid consulted the ship’s fault locators and listed the problems.

“Systems are shutting down all over the ship. The thrusters are over-heating and life-support is critical. Thanks. What is working?”

The droid have a short whistle.

“The food synthesiser is operational! If only I had time for a snack.”

The sound of a small explosion echoed through the vessel.

The droid whistled again.

“OK, thanks for the update – it’s now blown up. We need to make planetfall for repairs,” she said.

Fiach swivelled out of the pilot's chair and checked the readouts on the rear console.

“There's the problem,” she announced, bringing up a holographic display of the ship’s engines. “The main generator is failing, knocking out all the other systems. I need to fix it.”

She tapped Kaytoo on the top of his dome. “You steer the ship. Just keep us going forward, OK?”

Kaytoo bleeped.

“Agreed, forward isn't a problem, any other direction will be the challenge.”

Fiach opened the cockpit doors and ran towards the ship’s engineering system. She ran over to a ladder on the far wall and started climbing up to an access hatch set into the ceiling. She opened up a comms channel to Kaytoo. “Even if I can't get it working properly again, I can trip the back-up generators. They should supply enough power to get us down.”

Kaytoo whistled.

“OK, OK, down safely. Happy now?” She smiled and added, under her breath, “Well, at least in one piece. Probably.”

As she opened the hatch, her eyes were stung by smoke. “There's been a fire. Some of the cables must have burnt through. This shouldn't take me long,” she promised. “The core is in real trouble. The transfer coils are fried, but I should be able to divert power.”

The next few moments felt like an eternity, until finally Fiach announced, “Rerouting power...now!”

The ship shuddered, and Fiach felt the repulsors responding and heard the retro-rockets firing. Next, the acceleration compensators should activate. But she knew they were still coming in too fast.

The ship’s hull blazed red as it plunged into Lysatra’s atmosphere, out of control.

You would think that not much harm could come to someone being thrown around in a confined engineering shaft, but you'd be wrong. Every twist and turn of the ship sent Fiach tumbling through the air to bounce from wall to wall. The roar of the engines was deafening and if being thrown against bulkheads wasn't bad enough, the heat flooding from the defective generator was making it difficult to breathe.

Then the floor stopped quaking and the engines settled down to a deep but steady rumble. The temperature was still stifling, but at least she wasn't being thrown around anymore – the ship’s descent seemed smooth now.

There was a sudden thud, and Fiach jolted forward, wrenching her shoulders. She couldn't help but cry out.

The hatch opened and Kaytoo stood there, issuing a dozen messages at once.

“OK, OK, calm down. First of all, I’m fine. A little bruised and battered, but I'll be OK. I'm just in need of some fresh air. Secondly, thanks for getting us down in one piece. Thirdly, I’ve forgotten what was third because fourthly – or should that be finally – what do you mean we’re not alone?”

@ItsAtrap42

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Acrid, putrid, wretched smells expelled themselves as a red glow creeped along the silhouette of the pressure plate sliding down into the rock face and revealing a massively high-ceilinged and wide opening with steps cut from the dense rock. It was big enough for a starship to travel through. It was as if the sheer face of the rock had just spirited itself away. Flaring out from the giant access point, the steps were as black as space itself. So black that one could barely recognize the purchase of each. Rance stood dumbfounded, attempting to subdue the uneasiness he felt. The smell, red glow, the dark stone, the massive space, all contributed to his discomfort.

"Oh Doc, this is really something," he said. "The smell I mean."

He dismissed the feelings as phenomena he, right now, had no means with which to deal and shook his head. "Stay out of there for now. Resist the temptation to go running in. We must be cautious. That opening could collapse, shut, or otherwise lock us in, and I have no intention of letting this place become my tomb. We will have to find the means to control this aperture."

It may be a little crowded for a tomb anyway

"What do you mean, crowded?" Rance asked Cawdry

"Sorry Doc, what? I don't understand," he replied.

"You said it would be a little crowded for a tomb, I wanted to know what you meant by crowded."

"Rance," Cawdry said flatly. "I didn't say anything." He came to his teacher and held his light up to Ransom's eyes. "Are you hearing things?"

"Yes." Ransom always hated holonet shows where the protagonists don't share critical mission details for whatever reason. "You didn't hear it, I take it."

"No Doctor Caldwell, nothing," the student replied.

"Be on your guard. The Force can have a powerful affect on the mind and if there is someone...or something...here telepathic, there is little we can do against it. A soldier's manual from The Old Republic claimed that if one could run simulations, equations, calculations, sing a song, or otherwise occupy your mind it is harder for telepaths to glean anything. Do you have anything like that you can call on?"

Cawdry burst out into song, "Its a small galaxy after all! It's a smal--"

Rance hit him in the chest, "I'm serious!" he snapped. Cawdry could tell he was. "You haven't run into a nefarious wizard yet. Let me tell you son, it is not something to be taken lightly." Gesturing around, "For all we know, the individual, or their spirit, that built this may still be here."

Cawdry felt bad, he had tried to snap his teacher out of his dourness but that may not happen for some time. Rance was all play until he wasn't. It was hard for a student to deal with, but still Cawdry couldn't imagine a better teacher. "So how are we going to ensure the door stays open?"

"I've got just the thing." Rance hurried over to the crate and pulled out two bright yellow collapsible braces. Setting one on the floor he took it by the center handles, gave them a rapid twist until they clicked into place. Two telescoping arms shot out buttressing the walls of the opening. He prepared the second one and set it vertically, creating a cross joint in the middle of the opening. Sure they'd have to squat or climb around the apparatus but it worked wonders on Rance's peace of mind. He took a breath.

You really think that is going to hold? Look around you. Look at what has been done to rock and metal and then look at your toys.

Dr. Caldwell looked at his student who stared back concerned. "They don't think it'll hold. I think they're lying. Most temple traps run on a very well-balanced, load-bearing object. Adding friction to that may just interrupt the balance enough to cause the door to fail. Then, rock being rock, should get stuck somewhere.--or at the very least is well balanced enough to rest on the buttresses. Either way, it's the best we've got." Cawdry nodded but continued to evaluate his teacher. "Let's go," Rance said. Scared for his own mind, Cawdry started listing genotypes of all the creatures he'd catalogued over the years as Rance picked up his pack and clambered over the buttresses. The student and teacher both drew their blasters and pressed forward. Just after they cleared the opening, they heard a loud hiss as if a large amount of air was escaping from somewhere and then the unmistakable sound of grinding stone and groaning metal. The door was trying to shut and it was failing. They heard a large pop and saw one side of the door fall and lay resting on a corner of the buttress.

"I was right, they were wrong. That is telling. That begs a lot of questions. Were they just wrong? Did they lie about it? Did they not know? All of these options expose a weakness in our phantom." Rance explained.

"How do you propose we deal with them?"

You WILL deal with me

"I'd rather we not deal with them at all," the teacher replied. "But to be honest, I don't know. We will have to cross that bridge when we get there. Can you get a good read on the signal now?"

Cawdry nodded and turned around gesturing them forward.

As they turned from the entrance they finally had a chance to focus beyond the red glow and into the foyer that lie beyond. Beyond the smell, they hadn't learned much yet. The space was massive. The entire room was reminiscent of a hangar bay. Ancient cranes, pullies, tie-downs, and many sharp objects littered the space. But what was most disturbing was the large engraved drain cover in the center of the floor. "Record all of this." Rance said as Cawdry was already pulling out his holorecorder. The archaeologists began walking out into the open space looking all around them as they tried to make sense of what they were seeing. Walking toward the drain he felt this was something familiar but couldn't quite put his finger on it. What was the smell? Why such a large underground space after such a harrowing descent? Whatever this facility was, why did it need to be so far below ground? Couldn't they have just built this structure on the surface? Who was they? Were they who excavated the chasm the same that built the hangar? Was it built later? What does this have to do with iridium? Rance had so many questions. Then he saw them. Dusty and with crumbling wood shafts, a score of iridium lances, spears, and harpoons, stood on a rack not far from one of the cranes. He thought back to the scrimshaw, the harpoons, and the Leviathan. He knew what this was. But it didn't answer any questions. It created more.

"This is a slaughterhouse."

And it will be again...

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Kaytoo shared a long series of whistles and bleeps and Fiach listened, carefully and intently. Finally the little droid stopped and she nodded. “You may be right Kaytoo, this could be the Force at work. It’s a decent sized planet and for us to have arrived so close by chance is accompanied by some astronomical odds.”

She flattened her robes with the palms of her hands. “Right, first things first, let’s get together a list of repairs – and agree on a priority list.”

As she headed to the cockpit, she heard a voice.

It may be a little crowded for a tomb anyway

She knew Kaytoo hadn’t uttered the words and had sufficient experience of Force visions and interactions to know that the words were in her head. Not her own and definitely not related to the visions she invariably experienced when seeking crystals.

“Interesting,” she shared out loud before progressing to the cockpit. Kaytoo bleeped some more. “No, not the damage and yes, I will see what’s out there soon enough, but first thing’s first, we may need to make a quick escape, so I need to know you’re on top of any repairs.”

They worked together and soon had a full list of requirements. Fiach chewed on a protein bar as she then prioritised them. “These should keep you busy for a while,” she said, “but first, tell me again about what you saw as we landed.”

Once the droid had shared what it knew, Fiach lifted a flask of water to her lips and took a few deep sips. “So, a small ship – most likely a shuttle – in a small clearing behind us. Right, looks like I need to pay them a visit.”

You WILL deal with me

Fiach frowned and put on her cloak and manually activated the ramp to exit her medium freighter. She gave the exterior the once-over, and was pleased to note it had not taken much damage given its forced-landing. Then she dragged out her speeder bike and pointed it in the direction of the shuttle that Kaytoo had seen. “I suspect someone’s going to need my assistance,” she said to herself as she started up the engine.

And it will be again...

Fiach froze. She was only a Knight and her control of the Force was still developing, but what she heard and sensed, was not coming from the direction of the shuttle.

She turned the speeder around 180-degrees and gunned the engine.

“It’s a cliché I know,” she said to Kaytoo, via her commlink, “but I am beginning to have a bad feeling about this.” And with that, she closed her eyes and opened up the throttle of the speeder, allowing the Force to guide her wherever it willed.

@ItsAtrap42

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Dr. Caldwell shook it off. This was not the first place of mass death he'd visited, and it wouldn't be the last. As he walked away from the ornate drain in the center of the room to get a closer look at the tools, he considered that most, if not all, of the places he visited were ones hosting a large amount of death. Mass graves, ruins from natural disasters, etc., hell his business was in studying the dead. That calmed him. Normalcy. This wasn't even the first ghost--if it was a ghost--he'd dealt with. Granted the only experience he'd had was with a mildly troubled dead Jedi occupying his ship who couldn't come to terms with Illum's destruction as he flew around taking scans. That was as simple as telling the ghost that the planet had been destroyed and that they'd no true restrictions to location so long as they were still a part of the Cosmic Force. Logic worked that time. The archaeologist wasn't so confident it would this time.

Whether this was a ghost, Dark Jedi, Acolyte of Beyond, Knight of Ren, or a full blown Sith Lord, didn't really matter. What could Rance do against any of that? He dropped his hand down letting his fingertips touch the stock of his slugthrower, his other came up to the blaster strapped to his chest. As his fingers touched, flashes of a coming conflict buffeted his senses. Hard to describe, visions. He could see and hear his holdout blaster firing before it clattered to the floor and he heard himself scream. He saw and heard cracks from the slugthrower before a relatively similar end. Rance would die if he used them.

Knowing these weapons were useless for what was to come, he reached toward the harpoon and lance rack under the crane he had been walking toward and went to test it's heft. As he did, a shock ran through his body and he fell backward, cracking his head hard on the jet black floor, blood trickling down toward the drain.

Now you will see doom, Jedi

Cawdry came scrambling over as Ransom fell to the floor clutching the lance, and convulsing. Jerking slightly. Cawdry tried to stabilize him but it was no use.

::Rance hadn't felt a thing. Jedi? Rance wasn't a Jedi. Space and time swirled around him in a blur. His senses heightened to a degree he had never felt before. The smell remained. A cacophonous clatter all around as silhouetted workers and equipment moved about him with a gritty precision. He could feel the acrid air oily on his skin. A large, heavy, but low beleaguered breathing could be heard. He could see everything but only very little of it was discernable from the haze. Ransom had felt subtle suggestions as to an object's origin before when he'd touched a few, but he usually just chalked that up to experience. What was happening now was wholly different. This imagery was focused on the lance and whatever chanced into its background. It was as if someone had aimed a holorecorder directly at the center of the shaft. Everything else was moving around it. A heavily gloved hand moved back and forth from position to position as its user prepared their first strike. The air soared around the shaft of the lance as it moved through space until it made a thick thud, a painful outcry, a squish, and then a fleshy shear. Fatty tissue rolled off a mass as the entire creature shook in agony. The sound of chains and stressed lines clanged, snapped, and thwacked. Another cut, another cry. As the lance went about its dreadful work, Rance's vision held for a moment on the eye of the creature.

It was looking right at him, he knew it. Somehow through both space and time, this animal was seeing him. But not just him, his soul-- it could see The Force within him. The archaeologist screamed to no effect, tears pouring down his face. Sobbing, he held his hand out to the animal and it stopped crying--time seemingly holding still. He knew those eyes. A Purrgil. They were flaying the thing alive! Rance could barely understand mistaking them for hostile and trying to defend a ship, but to haul one down here and harvest one alive was unthinkable. Having been witnessed, the Purrgil seemed to calm down--soothed by Ransom's presence--seemingly no longer feeling the pain of the lance. As it died the light left tranquilly from its eyes as they lie locked to Rance's own.::

Rance sat up heaving, uncontrollably sobbing, unable to hear Cawdry calling to him. The weight of the lance, now in his lap, distracted him from the intense emotions he was experiencing. His knuckles tightened in lockstep with the rest of his body. This tool in his hand was an agent of sheer evil. No, that was a shallow interpretation--he forced himself to reconsider. Tools were meaningless without their craftsmen. Further still, the memory of that animal, and likely many others, were still linked to it. Had this lance not existed, that animal would have died alone among villains. And Rance felt like he owed it to the victims to not immediately cast it aside. Perhaps he could turn the weapon on its creator?

No, he thought. That is not the way. The creators were long-since gone. Revenge was never the answer. Justice is the answer. And Justice should be done for the harmed first and to the harmers second. Sometimes fights were inevitable. The lance would be better used defending the animal's legacy than gathering dust. Rance looked to the drain, his own blood trickling down it, as Cawdry's voice finally came through.

"I'm okay, son. I'm okay." Rance pulled himself together and looked at Cawdry with a strength in vulnerability. "This was a processing room for Purrgil. They harvested them alive. Why would they do that?"

"That's wretched. I cannot even imagine." Cawdry's voice was raspy from screaming at Rance while he shook in that state. He paused, waiting for his teacher to speak more. He did not.

The archaeologists just sat there, meekly looking around as finally all the pieces of the room fell into perfect place. He immediately knew, within reason, what each object was for--knowing they were being used while the animal was alive was revolting. In his mind's eye he could see the torturous process. Many cultures hunted large creatures for their resources. This wasn't what was bothersome. Most of the time it was because of necessity, or once a year for a traditional feast. Moreover, they were rarely--if ever--fully sentient. But every now and again, a culture will hunt a species to extinction just to make a profit, or to use as extravagant power sources. The brightest of candles cost many creatures their lives on many planets. But it was unthinkable to haul a live sentient creature across lightyears just to kill them later? Why not haul back a carcass? Or bring the factory to the product? Viciousness. That's why. Either they enjoyed causing harm, or they were willing to turn a blind eye to it for the sake of some other ends. Rance was trapped in thought.

"Are we not going to talk about your seizure?" Cawdry asked, snapping him from his stupor.

"It wasn't a seizure, Cawd. It was a Force Vision."

Cawdry's face slackened. "Can you?"

He used the lance to hoist himself up to his full stature. "Yes. It would seem so." Rance thought.

Did the voice call him Jedi? Surely not. Who else could it have been talking to?

@Corbeau

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Fiach was becoming used to this form of travel. On one hand, she was guiding the speeder and took notice of imminent dangers – such as boulders in the way – and she detoured where necessary around larger obstacles. But her general course was dictated by the Force. Not in a conscious way, it didn’t tell her to turn anywhere in particular, but it did give her a general feeling of being in the right direction or not. And neither was it giving her any inkling of why she was heading in this direction – the Force was an ally, but not a necessarily talkative or informative one.

But she’d learned, since her beginning at the Order, to trust the Force completely. As one Master explained to her – governments will let you down, people will let you down, even you will let you down. But the Force will never let you down. It was advice she’d taken to heart – and was possibly the reason that Soresu came to naturally to her. Whereas others felt a need to be in control, she was more than happy to be an instrument of the Force – and would never consider the relationship the other way around.

As she progressed, there was also a growing sense of trepidation. It was similar to her experience of the Dark-side – but not the same. The Dark-side of the Force always felt alien to her…tainted…as if the Force were somehow oily and claustrophobic. This was similar but different. The latter was a sense of foreboding. Something evil was at play here.

Now you will see doom, Jedi

Was that meant for her? It made sense on one level, but there lacked any connection she was used to in such times. Maybe another Jedi was in danger? But if so, why hadn’t the Order told her of their presence?

The voice was now replaced with images. Not solid pictures, or even visions, but glimpses – as if viewed via a holoprojector behind a haze of smoke.

A hand in a glove? A spear?

Then noises, muffled enough that she felt the need to concentrate to hear them better – not that it had any benefit.

A cry? Chains rattling?

Now she sensed emotions. Since an early age – long before she was identified as Force-sensitive, she’d somehow learned to block out other’s emotions as they must have overloaded her mind. She’d been so successful that she’d manage to subdue her own. Of late, she’d been able to access them from time to time – albeit with limited control.

Pain. Sadness. Extreme pain, excruciating agony. And then…nothing. A void.

She pushed the throttle open further, throwing caution to the wind – she needed to make haste.

@ItsAtrap42

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

If you pursue us, death will follow

Not mine. Rance thought as he tested the lance's balance.

"They say if we pursue him, death will follow"

"Kark that. Not our own, that's for sure."

"My sentiments exactly." Rance said. "We have all we can get from this room for now, lets find that droid."

You will find more than what you seek, and it will be your end.

"They say we will find more than what we seek and that it will be our, or my, end."

"Really has a one track mind, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, I'm losing confidence this being has any true ability. It's really laying it on pretty thick."

The only thickness will be in your blood

"Oh yeah, they're an idiot. They just said 'the thickness will be in our blood.'"

Cawdry guffawed, "Thats a stretch! Hey who said evil entities had to be wordsmiths. Or smart."

I am a terror smith, a creator of Leviathan

Ransom chuckled, "Now they're a 'terrorsmith.'" he said between cackling breaths, "A terrorsmith!" Cawdry joining in Then it struck him. They said 'Leviathan.'

"Cawdry stop laughing." Ransom said to his student who was trying desperately to catch his breath, "Okay. Laugh a little more but get it out of your system. I think they know something about the scrimshawed leviathan."

"Then we want them alive, Okay... but what do you think that has to do with the droid? The Church of the Force or the Chiss? Or the Acolytes? Or Purrgil. Doc, what the hell is going on here?" the student queried.

"I have no idea. Where are we going?"

Cawdry looked at the scanner and found the power signature of the droid. "Thataway," he gestured and the two went off down a crimson-lit corridor, Cawdry quizzically examining the lights. "What do you think is powering this facility? There's no way it's been used or maintained recently."

"We don't know that, there are no bloodstains so there may be some credibility to that but I wouldn't put it out of the realm of possibility that it has been recently used." Rance considered, "though I will accept that whatever is powering this place, it is of a very high magnitude." They continued walking down the corridor passing a few rooms that looked like smithing and repair rooms for the slaughterhouse floor. They stopped at a staircase that led down only one level, the pungent smell was even worse than the floor they were on. Rance unslung his pack and produced two pair each of air scrubbers and goggles, handing the extra to Cawdry and donning his own. "That should help," he said as they descended. What they found below felt indeed, like doom. A pale, dark featured, clearly corrupted man sat bathing in a pool of gore directly underneath the drain. With viscera and chunks of gore dripping off his youthful, and well maintained body, he emerged naked from the pool and walked towards them. He stood there smiling, his lips not moving as he spoke to Rance's mind.

Do you have any idea where you are, Jedi

"I'm no Jedi." Rance said,

"Wait, he's still speaking telepathically?" Cawdry said astonished, "Buddy, can't you speak basic? You're not getting into my head." Cawdry tapped his temple. "That is unless you think you're better ad Dejarik than me, and boy, I just don't think that's the case."

"You are a fool!" The man declared, very obviously flummoxed.

"And you're a naked, unoriginal buffoon!" Cawdry yelled back.

That had been the last straw. He charged as fast as he could calling from the pool an ornately adorned and sharpened bone with a giant iridium dipped tooth on the end poised to run Cawdry through.

But Rance intercepted him first, hurling the lance with everything he had at the man coming barreling at his student. It thudded hard into his chest and he let out a loud "Ungh!" The weapon went clean through him and sailed beyond the other side of the pool. The adversary's body slumped down, missing it's core muscles and organs ripped from him by the lance. The body rolled back into the pool of gore causing waves of blood to pour over the sides.

Making a gesture of dusting off his hands, Rance turned to Cawdry only to see his mouth agape and jaw slack, eyes wide. Dr. Caldwell turned back around slowly, hearing a buzzing, sparking, and cackling behind him. Electrical surges ignited the pool as the man , displaying a terrible and awesome power, levitated from it, calling his spear to him through the force. It flew through the air and he caught it--the force of the catch sending droplets in every direction. Rance quickly put his hands on Cawdry's shoulders.

"Go get help. Get the Kalikori down here, bring the team in and begin their work. I'll keep this one occupied while you do. We have to figure out how to subdue, exorcise, or kill him. I can't do that while fighting and neither can you."

"Doc, I'm not leaving you."

Rance looked deep into his students' eyes and with ultimate calm and reassurance in his voice he said, "Yes you are. I will be fine. Now go."


As with Rance's command to "go" when they engaged the chasm creature earlier that day, Cawdry followed directions. He put his hand on Ransom's shoulder and embraced him. Nodding his head, the student made a quick about-face to scramble up the stairs, through the processing floor, out, and up the cable line. Cawdry landed on the shelf over the chasm and keyed his comlink through the field equipment near the anchor and then Theodolite's communication relay. "Kalikori, come in. This is Cawdry. Triangulate my position with Theodolite and bring the Kalikori down. We've found our dig site. And hurry, Doc's in trouble! He won't last long without help" The student hadn't expected to have company already. A speeder--obviously not one of theirs-- was heading right towards him and slowing. He drew his blaster and took cover behind the cable anchor, training it on the occupant of the speeder. He'd take no chances. There'd been enough surprises today.

*****

Ransom was alone, he yanked the quick-release on his heavy pack so it fell to the ground as he produced his machete. The tool was no match for the spear being brought against him but Rance knew the outcome was death if he chose his blaster or his slugthrower. Though he didn't know why.

You are wise to spare your friend

"You're a fool for threatening him."

He dropped into fighting stance, his short blade between him and the grotesque preparing to end his life, his other hand out and up to counterbalance his weapon-hand. His discipline in method gave him away to his opponent.

Ah Teras Kasi. Flashy moves won't save you, Jedi

@Corbeau

 

[Fiach Dubh]

The cloying feeling was growing ever stronger – no doubt liked to her proximity to whatever was speaking to her. Or at least speaking – she was still unsure if she were the intended recipient – given subsequent sentences seemed more relevant to an ongoing discussion.

If you pursue us, death will follow

In the distance she could see her destination. The throttle was maxed out by now, so she could not go any faster and was resigned to relying on her patient disposition as she travelled. And she used the time to evaluate what she knew already.

You will find more than what you seek, and it will be your end

Which was…nothing. Well, hardly much more than that. She was sure the Force was at play – and that the Dark-side was being accessed by someone. Or maybe more than one person?

The only thickness will be in your blood

The words were coming more frequently now and their tone was still intimidating, albeit they seemed to be warning statements, as opposed to any real threat.

I am a terror smith, a creator of Leviathan

Now it was clear the stakes were getting raised. Was this some ranting of a madman, or some proof that the stuff of legends was in fact true. If the old documents were to be believed, Leviathans were an ancient species of creatures created by Dark Jedi.

Do you have any idea where you are, Jedi

There it was again, a reference to a Jedi, and now she was entirely sure she was effectively eavesdropping on a conversation – or at least one half of it. And what was so special about this place?

And then the warning bells sounded. Of course, that is a useful but entirely inaccurate explanation of what Fiach felt when the Force was warning her. It never told her what to watch out for, or how to react, just to be on her guard. And, given she always trusted in the Force, she took notice.

Now she could see some equipment ahead and knew she was close – the Force’s warning notwithstanding.

She sensed someone nearby. Not a Jedi nor a Dark-sider. But someone. So, she slowed the speeder as she approached – not wishing to startle them – and came to a halt a half a dozen metres away from the cable anchor. Slowly disembarking, despite her desire to rush, she glanced around casually before calling out. “I am Fiach, Fiach Dubh. I am a Jedi and have sensed something untoward here. Please show yourself. I mean you no harm and wish to help as soon as I can.”

She opened up her cloak, to show she had a saber and shoto attached to her belt, but that her hands were currently empty.

You are wise to spare your friend

“Quickly, please, your friend is in grave danger.”

Ah Teras Kasi. Flashy moves won't save you, Jedi

Teräs Käsi? Well that might even the score a little.

@ItsAtrap42

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

Red light glowed all around them and time seemed to slow down. Rance steadied his breathing and began moving from ball-of-the-foot to ball-of-the-foot in a low stance, rolling his arms in circles and semi-circles to camouflage his intended movements, occasionally breaking rhythm so as to not afford his adversary the ability to enact a well-timed strike. His attacker was more reserved this time. Having just had is innards emptied by Dr. Caldwell may have had an effect. Though, Rance couldn't be too sure. The monster lowered himself to the floor and began to circle around Rance, attempting to block his exit. The archaeologist allowed him.

"I have no intention of leaving."

"I have no intention of letting you."

"Great, now do you mind if I go about my work in peace, or are you going to keep threatening me and my friends?"

The grotesque rammed the heel of his spear into the ground, the thud echoing around the quiet chamber walls.

"You and your friends are the threat!" He screamed. "Your work is sacrilege. I can see your mind, Jedi. You would seek to destroy all my master worked to build. After all he has done for me. After all he has done for our people. I cannot let you any further."

Ransom was beginning to lose confidence. He knew nothing about what this man was saying. All he was doing was creating more questions. Frustrated, he had to get to the bottom of it.

"I'm just looking for a droid. What do you want from me?"

"The droid will not satisfy your hunger, you will seek more." He offered, subsequently speeding up his speech. "Knowledge is your vice. You will not stop until you've found what the droid knows and pursue it to my master. When you find my master, you will be the destroyer of worlds. I want your death."

"Is Sekteth your master? Who are you?"

"You dare to speak their name! I am Silisk, Disciple of the Devourer and I will entertain your questions, no more!"

That was the end of the conversation. Silisk closed the distance and tested Rance's guard with a tap of his spearhead, sending his machete slightly off-center, intending to use the momentum to crack him with the heel of the spear. Basic, Rance thought. He tightened his arm for the tap, but let it happen, using the force generated from the tap to flow through his body increasing his ducking dropstep's speed. Teras Kasi tradition held low stances, redirecting energy, treating every body part as both a weapon and a target area. Rance had given an academic discipline to his martial studies. Now , almost back to back with Silisk, Rance threw his weight backwards, hooking his leg behind him and inside Silisk's recovering stance. Unorthodox maybe, but this momentarily forced the spear out of the equation. Silisk had to eject it from his hands or face falling on it.

With a loud thud, and the clanging of the spear bouncing off the stone floor, the two collapsed to the ground. Throwing a few courtesy back-elbows to the back of Silisk's head, Rance rocked his opponents face off the stone floor and back three times before he was thrown back through the Force. He hurtled across the room when Silisk let out a powerful yell. The machete flung far out of reach clattering to the floor. His survey gear was designed to absorb the shock of hitting rock-faces during climbing but that only went so far. With a hard thud, Rance landed painfully, rolling out of it as best as he could. He struggled up and came to a standing position just fast enough to see Silisk--face covered in his own blood this time--stand up, skillfully scoop up his spear. Flourishing the weapon as he closed the distance, the menace bared his teeth. Rance was now weaponless and severely outmatched. And he had really pissed this guy off.

*****

Cawdry watched the speeder slow down and come to a halt through the sight of his blaster. What emerged from the speeder was not what he expected. A human Jedi. She was pretty. Stunned at the impeccable timing, Cawdry held his blaster up by his head with his finger off the trigger. The visitor introduced themselves. Dumbfounded and thankful, he replied.

"You're damned right, lady. No explanation necessary. You've got laser-swords and we could really use a hand. There's some really crazy poodoo going on down there. Guy was missing his middle, clearly dead. Now he's not. Don't know. Don't ask. Come on! I hope you're not afraid of heights." He paused and corrected. "Depths...and be ready for one helluva fight." He said as he turned and leapt to the descending cable, latched his brake to it and sped off down the line careening toward the terminus, Leading Fiach down. Cawdry ran, not bothering to stop and explain the killing-room floor. She'd get the point when they got downstairs. He was sprinting flat out, hand on his holstered blaster ready to lay into whatever they found.

What they found was Ransom, alive for now, more-or-less where Cawdry left them except Rance was now weaponless. He raised his eyebrows and nodded. Not bad for a book-worm.

"Hey!" was all Cawdry could think of to say as he let fly a blaster bolt at the menace stalking his friend. The still-awkwardly-nude enemy caught the bolt on the head of the spear, the iridium glowed hot but easily held its shape as the energy scored the metal.

"None of you will stop what is to come!" screamed Silisk.

@Corbeau

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Fiach was pleased the man showed himself and was delighted in the way he held his blaster – which signalled he was not about to shoot her.

She nodded at his words. This was not the time for a lengthy conversation – but action. Plus, what he’d said didn’t make complete sense to her and so she would have to get up to speed later. But someone coming back from the dead? That didn’t sound promising.

“Lead on,” she said, “I’m right behind you.”

She hooked an arm around the cable. She had no brake to latch on, so relied upon the Force to slow her descent – not knowing how far away the terminus was, so kept pace with the man for now.

Once they’d reached the bottom, she glanced around at the scenes that played out before her. They added new questions to her already long list, but again she held off asking for now.

As she moved forward, at a run, the sense of foreboding increased. Part of this was linked to the man’s clear concern for his friend’s predicament and the remainder was provided by the Force.

Finally, the entered a room that contained another man, clearly the companion of the one she’d followed – and…someone else. She was unsure how to categorise the naked foe. Alive? Dead? Undead? They were all possibilities, and might help her understand how they might leave here without anyone dying.

When the abomination caught a blaster bolt with his spear and somehow absorbed the energy, she frowned slightly. She may have spent plenty of time in the Jedi library, but she couldn’t remember reading about anyone like this.

But, given this was Fiach, she remained calm. Slowly and deliberately she pulled her cloak away from her belt, to reveal a lightsaber and a shoto. Neither was drawn, but she wanted the walking atrocity to register them.

“What is to come?” she asked, her desire for answers now overwhelming as the questions tumbled from her lips. “And who are you, and what is this place?”

@ItsAtrap42

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

A sense of calm slowly grew nearer and nearer to the archaeologist. Something's changed. Some peaceful element caused his heart to slow and his mind to clear. Shortly after the sensation, Cawdry entered with help in tow. A Jedi? Interesting. She was very astute, not wasting time engaging with the enemy and using the time to gain understanding. He appreciated the needed respite and used the distraction to inch closer to the lance he'd hurled.

"I am Silisk, Jedi. And doom is to come. The great hunt is upon us for the last time. My master's preparations are almost complete. Soon, Leviathan, born of flesh and hate, will emerge from the depths across the galaxy hungering to fuel a dynasty. In this new order, those that would waste power will lose it. Those that would harvest power will have it. Those with nothing, will have all. We will bathe in the blood of our enemy and through it, reach a level of understanding never before known."

Cawdry looked to the pool from which Sillisk emerged and thought the blood of their enemy? He recalled Ransom's vision, their analysis of the killing room floor and put a few of the pieces together "How can the purrgil be your enemy? They're innocent creatures." He said looking at him over his blaster. Rance appreciated his student's astuteness as well and used the distraction to slowly and quietly pick up the lance.

"Innocent!?" he cried stepping closer to Cawdry, "You assume them meek and unknowing. They meander through the galaxy on a whim, leaving destruction in their wake. They withhold themselves and their knowledge! They attack indiscriminately! They are no innocents! They are selfish, self-absorbed, and singularly-minded race of space-faring sentients you small-minded fool!" Diplomacy dictated that Ransom not point out the irony here. "Ask yourself if any being like you or I were in the way of them and their meal, what would they do? They wouldn't hesitate. They'd show no mercy. They've killed for it before. Dealing death and destruction for their own ends. And they know what it is they do. They will pay the ultimate price, and we will all reap the benefits."

Rance couldn't get on board with genocide for any reason but he was starting to get a clearer picture. But what is the value in harvesting purrgil? Revenge alone wasn't enough, there had to be some other goal. The dynasty, he guessed, but he didn't see how hunting these creatures to extinction could accomplish this. Sure Purrgil ivory and some other parts of the body were rare on the black market and sold for a hefty penny but nothing that would warrant this kind of infrastructure. He knew what the right question was.

"But why not kill them where they are? Why must they return to this place? If the mission is to eradicate, why transport?"

Right question or not, Sillisk was clearly done entertaining them "Enough! I was sent here to protect this place from the likes of you. For Eons we have kept this secret and I will not have it exposed before our final triumph. I will join my master at his side when he returns and we will rejoice in your deaths!" With the last word, he threw his hands forward in a powerful push sending Cawdry hurtling back into the rock-wall. A loud crack sounded as his skull, meninges, and brain danced too closely together. Rance's friend was out like a light. Sprinting, Ransom Caldwell rushed, lance at the ready, to defend his friend. But there was so much distance to cover.

@Corbeau

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Fiach listened, and all the while took in the room – identifying exits, weapons, anything of note that might be of use given the circumstances. Sadly, it looked as though the way in was the way out and getting the two men out alive could not be aided by anything obvious that might come to hand.

Fortunately, she relied on one thing and one thing only in such situations – the Force. It was her ally, and a powerful ally it was. It was one of the mantras she’d picked up at the Order.

Was the other man the Jedi the voice in her head spoke of? Possibly, but now was not the time for a midichlorian count and nor did she have time to sense an aura within him – her focus was on the naked man – and right now she was giving him 100% of her attention.

Not that a lot of what he said made much sense. He’d mentioned the Leviathan before – which was the stuff of legends – and the apocalyptical machinations were something she’d read about and, to be fair, heard about many times before.

“Dynasties come and go,” she replied matter-of-factly, as she continued to weigh up her next move. “Many never even make it past the concept stage. Egotists tend not to make great planners.” But his reference to soon was worrying and as much as she needed to get everyone out alive, finding out more was an outcome she desired. Especially who and where his master was. And did he mean master as in Acolyte-Master relationship? She sensed the Dark-side at work and wondered.

The name Silisk meant nothing to her, not that she expected it to. And the prophecy of doom she would take – currently – with a pinch of salt. But, this use of the Force was alien to her. She’d once ready about Sith Alchemy, but the notes were sketchy at best and she also recalled mentions of Dark-sided rituals.

The man that brought him here now took over the talking and she used the opportunity to subtly close the gap between herself and the abomination they faced.

She stopped as the naked man now moved towards her. And, to a point, she switched off from the ensuing argument. It was a distraction. She half closed her eyes momentarily, and connected as deeply as she could with the Force – allowing her mind to clear of all conscious thought, as if beginning meditation. But rather than being the beginning of introspective reflection, she instead allowed the Force to flow through her so deeply that it guided her. It was the basic tenet of her application of Soresu after all.

But even in this state, she was not unaware of what was happening around her – rather that she trusted the Force to guide her actions. So, the change in tone in Silisk’s voice told her his patience had finally snapped.

And she sensed his actions a fraction before they happened, but too late to react – as the young man was thrown across the room and into a wall. She also sensed the other explorer begin to run towards the fray and knew she had to step in.

Her cloak fell from her shoulders and her right hand extended, her palm open. A millisecond later, her saber hilt slapped into her hand and her fingers closed around the grip and she activated it with a snap-hiss. A subtle lilac hue emanated from the blade and she presented it in the stance of the Third Form. Her blade held back in a one-handed grip, angled forwards with the blade arm held parallel, the other hand held up in a challenge.

“I cannot let you harm anyone – you must know that – so I therefore am obliged to face you in combat. But, given I find this option deeply disappointing, I wish to encourage you to surrender to me now and there will be no…” she looked around and raised an eyebrow, “no more bloodshed.” And throughout, her voice remained calm and impassive.

@ItsAtrap42

 

[Ransom Caldwell]

The glow of the room adjusted from deep red to a deep red with a hint of purple as the Jedi ignited her sabers. Rance had seen a lightsaber before, but never met a Jedi. She was impressive. Slender but strong and stalwart, holding her ground and issuing a challenge to the grotesque. The archaeologist considered this. Maybe this was not a challenge as much as it was an affirmation of the state of affairs. An affirmation that would undoubtedly not give the desired effect--which was to end hostilities. Sillisk's attention was clearly on the largest of the threats. Which, at this point, was certainly not Ransom Caldwell. It was this Jedi.

As Rance closed the distance between himself and his opponent, Sillisk was already engaged with the Jedi woman. After having seen this foe in combat, Rance was actually not all that worried for his new savior. Sure, he had levitated himself out of the pool and then seemingly regenerated tissue astonishingly quickly, but he was not that skilled of a combatant. After all, Rance had bested him with some basic martial arts--granted with an instinct of a seasoned fighter, but he should never have been able to best a force-adept with a command of the Dark Side of the Force.

The engagement did not last long. With a furious overhead twirl and downward strike he attacked. The Jedi stepped back as he came in and parried the weapon away, lightsaber sending sparks off the iridium tip. He recovered his weapon's momentum and turned it into a thrust. With another expertly timed backward drop step and a subtle parry with her shoto, the Jedi redirected her opponent to where she was now standing in between Sillisk and Rance. Her defense was magnificent, Rance Thought. The dark sider disengaged his thrust and turned weaponside toward her in a large sweeping blow aimed at her head. It was almost as if she hadn't moved at all. With blinding speed she slipped the swing and allowed her lightsaber to cut straight through the bone shaft of the spear. The severed spearhead hurtled at Rance, now standing ineffective behind the Jedi. He intercepted the spearhead with the flat of the lance sending it clanging behind him. With her arm still high from the cut, Rance had an opening. He ducked under her lightsaber and tackled the foe, careful to keep his lance outstretched and out of harms way for the Jedi and his opponent. After they collapsed to the ground, Rance scrambled around to his opponents back, wrapping his legs around his hips and using the shaft of the lance to restrain him while forcing them into a somewhat seated position. Rance tried to get his feet back under him but was having a hard time, his opponent was both slippery and sticky with all the gore still covering his body. While wrestling naked men was not where Rance thought he'd be right now, he hadn't the time to appreciate the spectacle that this very probably was.

"I don't want to fight you!" Rance cried, fighting as best he could to keep the writhing man still. Sillisk was very strong and what happened next seemed to take no time at all. Quickly, the grotesque turned the shattered bone shaft of his spear toward himself and plunged it through his middle. Ransom had little time to react, his arms were committed and he was locked tight to the man. As soon as Sillisk had ran himself through, Rance attempted to let go and allow himself to fall backward and out of harms way.

He was too late. The sharp bone punctured his environment suit and tore a vertical gash from the top of his belly up to his shoulder as it caught him falling back. Blood pooled underneath him.

Both bodies slumped and the world went black for Ransom Caldwell. But not before he heard numerous concerned voices and boots clattering on the floor, "Doc. Doc! Doc stay with us...We're sorry we're late! Doc! DOC!"

@Corbeau

 

[Fiach Dubh]

Fiach often wondered if she’d chosen the third Form, or if it had chosen her? Such was the way with the Force – like kyber crystals – what appeared a free choice was far from it. Regardless, it fitted perfectly with her philosophy of being a Jedi and suited her in combat. She would never take the initiative – despite what some of her teachers had suggested – and accepted the limitations of this approach given the relative positives. At least, as she saw them.

But now she was at one with the Force, giving her actions over to its guidance – which took some doing, given your life was on the line. It was not infallible, but it was a robust approach.

Saber duellists knew within a few moments who would prevail. It was so simple to recognise. This is why deception was so often used, or alternative tactics employed to even things out. She practiced daily and was adept at using not just the blade in these circumstances – for the saber was not the weapon, the Jedi was.

Yet, within moments, Fiach realised that, for all of his bluster, Sillisk was no warrior. Perhaps his strengths lay in alchemy, for with a weapon he was at best a novice. The naked man pressed an attack and she parried. Given her frame and relative strength, she rarely blocked blows due to the stress the kinetic energy would have on her arms. And she was ready for his follow-up as the Force guided her and tipped the spear away.

She never leaped in with a counter this early in a fight. Although opportunities presented themselves, she preferred to weigh up an opponent if at all possible, before looking to press any moves of her own.

Maybe out of desperation, he swung at her with wild abandon and she simply evaded the blow and cleaved the spear with a single movement. The spearhead flew at the lead explorer but he batted it away with relative ease. And then the scientist took out the naked foe, easily restraining him. Yet, before Fiach could react, the Darksider stopped wriggling and used the remainder of the spear he still held to impale himself.

The Jedi took half a step forward as the scientist leaned backwards and she realised too late what was about to happen. The spear was – inevitably – still a weapon and either due to design or blind luck, it managed to slash through the scientist’s suit and skin with equal ease.

Many things happened at once, but to Fiach at least, they were in relative slow-motion. She sensed the arrival of more scientists and their general confusion and fear. Stepping forward, Fiach glanced down at the lead scientist’s injuries. Sinking to one knee, she considered her options. She was no healer, but she was his best hope of survival. Hopefully no major organs were damaged, although his ribs looked as though they would need some proper medical attention. Right now, she had to stop the flow of blood and she knew of only one way.

Closing her eyes and thankful she’d hardly exerted herself to date, she placed her hand atop the man’s open wound. Taking a deep breath, she pushed all conscious thought out of her mind and connected as deeply as she could with the Force. She felt it all around her, and within her. And she channelled it through her body, along her arms and into her hands. Here, it met the warm and somewhat bloody mess of the scientist. She had no conscious or deliberate act to follow, she simply called upon the Force and pushed it into the stricken man.

Initially, she felt euphoric – but as the moments became seconds, she felt weaker and weaker. In saving the man, she was giving of her own life Force. Not seriously so, fortunately, given her strong initial state – but enough that, as fast as his cut was healing, she felt herself slip into unconsciousness.

But she pressed on and when – and only when – she felt the flow begin to push-back, did she relax. And the darkness took her.

@ItsAtrap42