Nearly Missed - The untold crossings of two paths

[Lita Trykk]

"She favors you, I think. Her eyes are the same."



"Don't be daft. Her father's eye color is just the same as mine."



"...I'm not speaking of just the coloring, but of the seriousness in them. The severity is striking in one so new to the galaxy. She already mourns, carrying the same burden you and I share. The Force is in her, as it never was with either your brother or his wife."

"...The Force is strong with most of my kind."

"...But she's yours in truth, isn't she? Not your brother's. You cannot hide your feelings, Nivar. Not from me-"



"Never speak of this aloud again. It is my shame, my betrayal to the Jedi and to my kin. A black smudge that can never be erased."



"The rules of the Order don't even exist anymore, oldtimer. And you yourself told me, Tai Shan chooses your kind whether you will it or not."



"You do not understand my kind, and too young to understand the rest. Perhaps one day, when you have a youngling of your own-"



"When you have a family of your own, you'll know why I must protect her from this and all things, from the truth of my dishonor."

"...You are the most honorable man I know, Nivar." "The. Most. Honorable. Obscure cultural rituals be damned, I know what a broken heart feels like. And you have two of them."

"...One for each, oen'nuin. One for her, and one for her mother.



"...What will her mother name her?"

"Lita..."

[Lita Trykk]

The lights flickered on and off as the life support systems threatened to fail. Another explosion rocked the CR90 corvette, knocking the Jedi off of his feet and colliding shoulder-first into the opposing bulkhead.

He struggled to regain his footing and continued his mad dash down the corridor, his arms clutching what he valued most in this galaxy, and prayed one of the dorsal escape pods still remained.

They had been on their way to see Skywalker. Their son had shown great promise, and was already wise to the Force. The call had come in as a harmless blip. A starfighter squadron had picked up some strange activity in the Helska system, and wanted to go check it out. It had been Erlantz's idea to swing nearby in case they needed support. His wife had objected, at first. Master Kyp could handle it. But the dark feeling pulled at him, and she'd relented.

He gasped for breath and closed his eyes tightly against the pain. The corvette had come out of hyperspace into a debris-filled wasteland, the wreckage of the New Republic starfighters all that remained. The CR90 was fired upon immediately by the strangest of ships, almost biological in nature, their armaments neutralized engines aflame within the first few seconds.

He had felt her die within the first blast, her life force ripped from her in the hull breach. Dammit, dammit! It had paralyzed him, the loss of her, the loss of his heart, and he knew he would not survive this. He had not the strength to lift the lightsaber from his belt. But his son. He would live only to save their child.

He could hear them behind him, like stepping out of a waking nightmare, these strange abominations that had boarded this dying vessel. They were made of flesh and bionics, but he sensed no life from them. No Force presence flowed through them. That, more than anything else about them, terrified him.

He heard other voices, speaking Huttese, this one female and with an accent that might have comforted him on another day. They seemed to be arguing. It gave him enough time, just enough time...there, a pod still remained!

Erlantz carefully set the bundle in his arms within the seat of the single-person pod, whispered a few, tearful words, then slipped a small medallion on a leather cord off from around his neck. But as he moved to seal the door and reach for the launch control, the painful snap of a whip coiled around his wrist and yanked his arm away from the panel, razor-sharp barbs slashing into his flesh as a burning sensation worked up to his shoulder. He spun to face the snake-wielder just as someone else lifted a blaster and shot a hole through his chest, sending him collapsing to the floor.

That female voice shouted once more, but it sounded too far away to make out the words. His vision darkened as a shadow fell across it. He stared into the garnet eyes of someone he'd never thought he'd see again.



He lifted his numb hand to her cheek, felt nothing when his fingers pressed against the mask she wore to hide her face.



---------

She brushed the hand away from her cheek and flinched away from the Jeedai, her masked lips pulled back in a habitual snarl. His last words had been too weak and lacking of air to make out, thanks to the smoking hole in his chest. She turned a hateful stare on the two Vong and the human mercenary that accompanied them.

"Kabno Ay'vyshtal <Damn Jedi.> You didn't have to kill him. He was the last survivor."

The mercenary snorted. "You hate the Jedi as much as the Vong do. Why do you object?"

"He would have valuable information about the Republic."

The Vong replied in his emotionless voice. "None that he would have told us, and none that we would not find out on our own soon enough. Prisoners do not help us towards our objective."

She held her tongue and did not bother to argue. She despised these creatures almost as much as the Jedi themselves, and did not need the Force to foretell her of their eventual betrayal to this forsaken alliance. Why Kolga and the rest of the Hutt Cartel signed up with this group, she would never guess.

The lights flickered once more, and struggled for so long, Lita almost thought they wouldn't come back this time.

"Come on, there is nothing left to salvage on this ship."

Just as she rose from the remains of the Jedi Master, she heard it. Or she thought she heard it. Maybe she merely sensed it. She turned back, hesitating long enough that it caused the mercenary to remain behind as well, and watch curiously.

She moved to the hatch of the unused escape pod, then tore the sealed door open with a violent telekinetic pull.

The youngling could not have seen more than 5 or 6 life days, yet. His whimpering sobs were nearly inaudible, his brown hair mussed and refusing to stay in place. He looked up from balled fists that had been pressed against tear-streaked cheeks, green eyes finding hers with the grief, fear, and confusion of innocence.

Lita recognized the resemblance right away. But for the age difference and the goatee, this boy very well could have been his father. The pirate smuggler snorted his derision, and lifted the blaster to aim for the youngling. He pulled the trigger.

The blaster bolt zipped right back past his ear as the silver blade of the saberstaff hummed, casting Lita's face in an eerie and furious light. She did not lower her weapon until after the mercenary, slowly, disengaged his own firearm and holstered it.

"What, now you care about brats, too? You've gone soft, Trykk."

"Gunsos coila ordaes <Shit for brains,> so short-sighted. He is the offspring of powerful Jeedai. His abilties would come in handy for anyone wanting to profit."

"...Profit, you say?" Lita had said exactly the right word, with perhaps a gentle, Force-induced 'push' in the right direction. "....Maybe my crew could watch over the tyke. See he's brought up right in a galaxy gone wrong."

The ship shook violently once more, alerting them both that they needed to get back to their own fighter quickly. Lita held out her hand to the boy in the escape pod.

"...This way, kep <child.> Your selenoren <challenge> begins now...but you must choose to walk it."

[Jago]

~ " I told you it wasn't a good idea!"

The lecturing was met by a swift fist, shutting up any further retort the boy could have given. He sprawled onto the deck, caf brown hair just as wild as his verdant eyes when he glared back up at the much taller, much stronger man who had struck him.

" Shut it, you little kriffer. This is still my ship. Raise your voice like that to me again and I won't hesitate to have you take a long walk out of a short airlock, kid."

" Do it!" the teenager declared, scrambling back onto his feet and marching up to the Captain of the vessel with fury and determination in his stride and gaze.

" Do it. Kill me here, and you'll lose the skiffer up your sleeve and be no better than any of the other millions of pirates out there!"

He stared his captor down. Well, up: even for a human teen, barely sixteen yet, he was still quite small for his size. That didn't diminish the palpable rage that made his hands shake.

Eleven years a slave. Used. Beaten. Walked over. But even then, at least here he belonged, of sorts. They had taught him how to hold a blaster. How to program a navicomputer, and fly a ship. How to slice a terminal. They fed him and, sometimes, when he was very lucky, they let him keep something from the ships they had plundered.

He never liked going, though. On the ships, with the fire and carbon scorches and screaming. It ... reminded him. Of what, he did not know.

" You've got moxie, Jagger, but don't mistake your usefulness for invincibility."

The teen scowled, turning away from the only figure he had known as a father.

" It was still a stupid idea. Kamy won't let this go. He'll send someone."

" We already cleared Iridonia's hyperlanes days ago. What has you so worked up?"

The younger of the two stepped forward to the window in his quarters of the CR90 Corvette, Andromeda's Whisper, placing a hand against the transparisteel viewport that showed the empty beauty of space. In the corner was a nebulae in full bloom, enriching the darkness with distortions of light that gave the appearance of color where there was none. It made him feel ... safe. Safe in a way his thoughts did not. He knew, he knew something bad was going to happen.

He could feel it.

" It's already here."

He had said the words quietly, still looking out the viewport. Far away from here, another war was going on. Out on the ends of the Galaxy, where the people of a frozen, distant world burned in battle against insectoid creatures that no human could hope to understand entirely.

Here, near the Core, where they should have been safest, the teenager knew that their own war was coming fast.

" 'Here'? What's here, who?" the Captain asked, worry seeping into his tone. The boy had been right about things like this before. It was he who had been the most vocal in objecting to the crew of this ship reneging on their deal with the Iridonians to act as privateers for them and instead use the contract to steal a certain valuable from Dark Diamond Palace. Maybe he had known from the beginning that it was a poor decision. Was that not why The Captain kept him around in the first place? He briefly wondered what had caused him to not listen to the teenager this time, even as those green eyes finally turned back from the stars, still carrying a bit of their shine in his look.

" The Emperor's Shadow. It's here already." ~

[Lita Trykk]

Cid Tereus should have known better than to try and hide.

The Captain was getting old, aging at an accelerated rate even by human standards from too much drinking and hard-headed arrogance. The years since they'd parted ways shortly after the Vong War had changed him almost beyond the point of Lita's recognition.

The visor of her generic mercenary helm dipped, even though she knew no one aboard was paying her any mind. Particularly not the dead pilot and co-pilot at her feet. She had...ways of discouraging the mind from taking an interest in her, which is how she had managed to gain access to the cargo hold of Andromeda's Whisper at the last refueling station.

The new course had been laid, and though in this weightless airless galaxy, she could not feel the pull of the ship as it altered its direction, she could feel the subtle increase of vibration in the soft soles of her boots. She pushed herself away from the panel and stepped over the bodies at an unhurried pace.

It was becoming easier and easier anymore to bend the visual spectrum of light around her body and move unseen. Like slipping on a heavy and uncomfortable coat. She heard the raised voices from the bridge echoing down the bulkhead of the corridor. Her eyes narrowed.

Interesting. But not the reason why she was here. She did not linger to hear how the argument would conclude. Kamy's orders had been clear, though not spoken aloud. The Kaminoan was never so sloppy as that.

The Blood of Iridonia, Kamy’s own unique brand of fine liquor that was intended to appeal to Zabrak biology (yet another one of his maddening schemes to attract the horned race back to their inhospitable homeworld), was not a formula the eccentric Emperor could risk being sold elsewhere. It was a symbol. Cid would have been better off stealing the Golden Throne itself. He might have been forgiven for that. But he'd gone after the cache of dark wine, instead. A weakness. His weakness.

Now not only did Kamy need the wine resecured, she would have to send a strong message to the rest of the cartel….but in a way that cannot be overtly traced back to the Iridonian Empire, lest it disrupt so many of his delicate political balances, both above, and underground. One did not simply betray Count Kamy. He wanted the galaxy to admire him, and also to fear him. If Bahari was the hand that rewarded, Lita was the hand that punished.

But first, the wine.

She slipped into the Captain’s quarters and sealed the door behind her, allowing the Force Cloak to melt away. She lightly traced her fingers along the bulkhead until she found the seam of a panel that was slightly off. Her mouth curled into a smirk. Predictable drunkard. She slipped the false panel off of the wall to reveal the coded vault. She exhaled softly, then placed her palm against the door. Mechu-deru was a fantastically difficult ability that she did not have a talent in, though the dark-sided Chiss had made many attempts to teach her. But if she wiggled the wires within enough, she might be able to get something as simple as a wall-safe open.

She closed her eyes in intense focus.

And failed to see the tell-tale flashing indicator of a tripped silent alarm.

[Jago]

~ " You won't find it. It's probably long gone, by now."

" Shut your kriffin' yap, boy. Just leave this ta me."

The teen sighed, shoulders sagging slightly as the Captain Tereus clumsily checked over his blaster pistol, making sure it was loaded and the safety was off. Wobbling on his feet, he probably didn't even notice what the kid had picked up on a little while ago.

The stars had moved.

Correction: stars don't appear to move, considering their distances. The ship had moved. They had changed direction. Why? Nobody had given that order. And yet, the hum of their engines, the change of pitch in the way the hyperdrive was cooling down ... somebody had done something.

His green eyes settled on Cid as he stormed towards the door, jamming the button to open it before turning back with a scowl.

" I'll deal with your insolence later, Jagger. Stay put."

The teenager laughed sharply at the sentiment. He, a pirate, appalled by 'insolence'? Really?

He didn't worry about being trapped, however. The truth was, he had figured out his own ways around the ship. Reaching under his bunk to procure a blaster pistol he had lifted from one of his guards, the boy shoved the long barrel unceremoniously into his belt loop, before reaching for a grating above his bed. It was removed without too much trouble, allowing him to scramble up into it. Inside the duct was a wire that he knew to pull on, something he had attached to the grate so he could always pull it back up and reseal it. Thusly secured, he was off.

He knew this ship very well. He had been crawling through the damn thing for long enough: the Corellien Engineering Corporation corvette was his home, and just like a homeowner would know of a rickety stair or how to open a stubborn cabinet, he knew the fastest way from one part to the other. It didn't take him long to come tumbling out onto the helm of the ship.

To spy the two dead laying on the ground.

Not good ...

He didn't have time to check the men over and make sure they were alright or might leave. In his own mind, why should he? Would they have given him the same treatment? So it was that he gently kicked the co-pilot out of the way so he could take in the readouts from the ship's sensors.

... There. An alarm going off, a quiet one so as not to alert the person who triggered it. In Cid's quarters, no less? That was curious ... was this Shadow an assassin, looking for its mark? Or were they here for the stolen goods? Regardless, he knew where they were. His hand rested near the comms button ... and then slowly pulled away.

No. He wouldn't alert the Captain. Kriff that, he wouldn't alert anyone. He could do this himself. Maybe it would finally get him off the slave roster. Show them that he was to be taken serious now.

He made his way back into the ducts, crawling on his stomach to the location of their infiltrator. It did not take him long and there, in armor, was the Shadow. Its back to him. Working on something.

The teen unhinged the grate as quietly as he could, lowering it gingerly down to the ground before he, too, slipped out of the crawlspace. His pistol was drawn, barefeet making little if any sound as he snuck up on the Shadow.

With his hand trembling slightly, he leveled the pistol at the back of the helmet. He had never taken a life before, never held this measure of power over someone.

It scared him. To know that life and death were just the pull of a trigger away, the tightening of his finger.

He steeled his arm, kept his grip from shaking. He could do this. He knew he could do this.





He hesitated. ~

[Lita Trykk]

Finally.

Lita felt the slight give of the safe door as the electromagnetic locking mechanism was released. Her palm slid from the smooth surface and her fingers hooked beneath the door to silently swing it open. There was no feeling of elation or accomplishment as she pulled its contents free, the wine and, more importantly, the datapad that contained its precise formula.

Even though it was a minor miracle that none of the small bottles had their seals broken, this was no real victory. Far too easy. Something didn't feel....

....right.

The balance of the safe door had it slowly pivoting towards its closed position in the artificial grav environment. The Zabrak saw, at last and far too late, the tiny blinking light of the alarm that had been triggered. And she sensed...she was not alone.

Because she did not know what she would be facing, she only gave the slightest turn of her head, looking over her shoulderplate rather than turning her body. She'd been caught at blasterpoint, and with her hands full no less. It took her a moment to recognize him, but then, realization dawned on her.

The youngling. He's grown already.

Her helm dipped as she gave him a brief once-over and quickly amended her thoughts with an unseen sneer.

...but not much.

His brown hair was mussed in the way of an awkward adolescent on the brink of maturity. His green eyes were as bright and vivid as his father's had been before the light of life had faded from them, eyes she had never been able to shake from her thoughts or dreams, even as so many dozens of others she had killed and seen killed had long been banished from memory. And...the Force was with him. No, more than that. He practically glowed with it. Even through the undisciplined and murky waters of the Dark Side, she could pick up on that.

The chin of her helm lifted almost imperceptibly, her line of sight shifting to the airduct above the boy's head. This is how he'd snuck up on her. And from the looks of things, he'd done so alone. She wondered why he didn't shoot. He'd been given ample opportunity.

Something else he was craving, then. Something more than approval of the crew.

Lita turned to face the boy fully, now, confident that his hesitation was not for a lack of nerve, or not a lack of nerve alone. He was underfed. His clothing was in poor condition, even for a spacer. The blaster was held awkwardly in his slender hands as though he was unaccustomed to the weight and feel of it, and the only personal effect he wore on his person was hidden beneath his shirt, hanging on a frayed leather cord about his neck. The Zabrak recognized a slave when she saw one.

Something about the fact that he had been mistreated by Cid had Lita's blood burning. Her shoulders lifted slightly as the muscles tensed, a growl sounding in her throat. He'd been just a child...a child meant for more, whose destiny had been ripped away by the cruelty of an unnatural fate. Why that idea made her sick to her stomach, she wasn't quite sure of. But she allowed the emotional reaction to feed the darkness in her.

She spoke through the vocoder of the mercenary helm.

::...You realize you're far better than they are. Far stronger.::

[Jago]

~ " Don't move!" he barked out as she stood to face him, now gripping the battered blaster pistol with hands to keep his grip steady.

His eyes were ferocious, but wavering. He forced himself to keep standing, to keep the gun held in as threatening a manner as possible.

His knees were shaking slightly, backing himself away a bit so she couldn't just reach out and grab the gun.

:: ... You realize you're far better than they are. Far stronger. ::

" Shut it!"

The conviction was fading fast from his words, though his tenacity was more than noticeable. The tension in his shoulders, the way his knuckles turned white. He would not back down easily.

" I could have the entire ship here in seconds, thief," he threatened her, letting his hand shakily reach to his pocket to pull out a worn comlink, brandishing it as if it were his ultimate weapon.

" One touch of a button and you'll never get out of here."

And yet, he still did not touch the button. He did not pull the trigger. The standoff continued, even as a thousand questions circled the teen's mind.

How did this girl get on the ship? Was she even a Zabrak? Was she just here for the stolen treasure, or their lives? It only made him feel more hostile.

And more afraid. He felt ... uneasy. Slightly sickened. Something pulled at him, it gnawed on his thoughts, projecting violent things. Things filled with power, and exploiting it. Abusing it.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. To wash away the darkness and keep himself in control.

" I ... I'm warning you! Don't make me do this!" ~

[Lita Trykk]

:: Jendnouk. It is irony that comes from the slave; to so plead for freedom of choice... and yet begs it from the one and only being on this ship that doesn't own you. ::

Gloved hands did not move to free themselves of the wine, nor made a move for the weapons within easy reach on her belt. Silently, if somewhat relaxed, Lita was acknowledging to the boy that he truly had her cornered. He and he alone would be the one to determine the outcome of this situation. But, the Dark Side whispered its machinations to her, and she knew she could manipulate it to better her own odds of survival.

:: Cid Tereus did not do right by you. That's the first promise to me he has broken. ::

She hefted the small crate in her hands before tucking it securely beneath her arm.

:: This was the second. Are you so very certain you have that pistol pointed at the chest of the true enemy? ::

Very slowly, and with clear and cautious intention, she tugged at the fingertips of her glove to pull the garment free. Her open palm gestured towards the boy's blaster.

:: The freedom to decide your own fate in one hand... ::

Just as carefully, her hand gracefully rotated until her fingertips were pointed to the comlink.

:: The continued stagnation of letting others decide it for you...in the other. ::

Even unseen beneath the visor, her gaze bore into his.

:: It doesn't suit you. Slavery isn't what you came from. I suppose your Master never told you the truth of what happened the day your parents died. ::

Her hand remained open, unmoving, reaching towards him.

:: ...I could show you. I know how to. Once again, kep, the choice is yours. ::

[Jago]

~ " What ... what are you ..."

The boy's voice trailed off as he stared at her hand, as if trying to bore his gaze through the bronzed skin offered to him. Was this a trick? And ... why was he so oddly drawn to stretch his own hand out ..?

He approached with caution in every, small motion.

" I was told enough ... I was told my parents were killed during the war ..."

He had heard the story often enough, but now the explanation seemed ... flat. He knew that a part of him was special. Gifted. Marked with fate within the echoes of The Force. And here, was this a turning point? A moment within the spark that would change the very weave of destiny?

... Was he not destined for this? Was that what the Shadow meant?

The teen stopped himself. Stared hard at the helmet, trying to perceive beneath it.


And then grabbed for her hand.



The second his fingers curled around her own, the sensation was akin to ice being viciously shoved behind his eyes until every sense was screaming in pain. He was driven to his knees, frozen in agony as his mind was ... invaded. It was not gentle or reassuring, it was a sudden rush of overwhelming sensation into his very head.

" It ... It hurts!" he cried, his hand only tightening more on her own as images flashed to the forefront of his memory's depths.

New memories. Not his own.


A man. Placing something beyond a ... door? A hatch? Saying something. A whip unlike any he had ever seen suddenly came into view, grabbing the man. He turned to face the view, grim. Determined. Eyes with a sharpness that could cut a Corusca gem, hair a bedraggled mess. Trimmed, neat facial hair.

The report of a blaster. The man fell.

The view turned again.

Another man. A pistol in his grip, the barrel still smoking. A man he knew. Younger, perhaps, but he knew those eyes, knew that snarky smirk. He could not tell if the visage of him was more painful than the way the Shadow shoved these projections into his mind, forcing them to fit within the catacombs of forgotten knowledge locked away within the teen.






He ripped his hand away from hers, willing and pleading for the memory to stop. The pistol and comlink clattered to the ground.

The man ... the man who had been shot. He looked similar, so very similar, as the teen touched at his own face, feeling the contours and sharpness of his own looks. Trying to do what he could to see with his hands, to try and compare the two.

As if from the depths of time, other images came screaming back to him, nearly sprawling him on the deckfloor with the intensity of their projections within The Force as much as his brain.




The man ... held him. He was young ... so very young. But he felt protected, safe, even in rough movement. There was screaming. Fire. The smell of things burning. An alarm, a loud one, incessant. More shouts. Water that splashed upon his cheek.

The water stung ... it was salty.

He, a child, bawled as monstrous things came at him, demons of nightmare, but the man did not flinch or turn away. He tucked the child closer to his chest and drew forth a brilliant weapon that seemed to be forged from the very sky itself. The teen recalled it vividly, now: the way the clouds swirled within that blade, the way it clattered against snakes turned into sharp swords.

It hummed with the call of thunder with each battering of the turquoise blade upon the aliens, flashing brightly and blinding the child who only clung tighter to the jacket of his protector. It appeared as if that tiny grip only caused the man to fight harder, even as his jacket and body were torn to shreds by the vicious weapons of his assailants.

But he would not fall. He would not be devoured here: like a true Guardian, the Hero slew the Villains, but had not an ounce of strength left in the end. He merely looked down at the crying infant, and rested his brow upon his son's, silently promising that the family would live on.




" My Father ..."

It seemed like an eternity before the teen could stammer out the words.

" He ... Cid ..."

He slammed his hands hard down on the ground, suddenly snapping his head up at the Shadow with fury contorting his expression.

" He murdered my Father!"

How could he have been so blind!? The betrayal almost made his heart stop, leaving him a vessel composed not of blood and flesh, bones and spirit, but a sieve slowly filling only with the anger and thirst for the vengeance of justice. Justice deprived from his parents, a mother gone, a father killed in cold blood ... And he, the youngest of the family, used by the very murderer for nearly twelve years!

" I'll kill him," he whispered threateningly, as if making sure at least someone could hear his vow. If it had to be the Shadow who bore witness to his suffering and rage, then so be it.

" I'll kill him!"

The teen snatched up the fallen pistol and paid the Shadow no mind, not until he had reached the door. His knuckles were white on the gun's grip.

This time, it was not from fear.

" Tell me, Shadow. You said Cid broke his promise to you. About ... About me."

He turned over his shoulder. Searching. Questioning. Pensive in his anger, a small moment of clarity within the storm clouds.

" What was it, then? What was the plan, what did The Force have in store for me?" ~

[Lita Trykk]

~ It was painful for both of them. But...more so for him. She watched grimly as the human boy crumpled to the floor, her grip on his hand firm and unyielding. She tore into his mind like claws rending flesh, thrusting the memories that were her own to supercede his consciousness.

And in so doing, in forcing this connection between them, she relived those moments herself, through her eyes and through his pain. A melding of the both of them.

This is necessary. She firmed her jaw as her thoughts justified what she inflicted upon him. It is better for him to learn the nature of the galaxy early in life...as I did.

The adolescent looked upon the monsters that had chased him into nightmares, but this time from the point of view of Lita's greater height. He once more witnessed the death of his father, but with the more brutal awareness and understanding of a matured mind. And as the memory of Lita's gaze turned to Tereus, with a condescending reprimand on her tongue, so too did the child see the truth....that real monsters weren't scaly things with hollow eyes and dripping fangs, but rather were standing side by side with you, claiming to be your ally.

Your mentor.

The boy jerked from Lita's iron grip, and she allowed him to free himself, severing the connection between them as viciously as it had been wrought. Her legs were unsteady, and the room swam in her vision. Though it had only been seconds, the Force had drained her nearly dry of energy. Still, she recovered before the teen did.

She waited silently, patiently, as he fought to sort the images, to make sense of them and come to terms with what he had seen. Fury at the betrayal, and disgust at his own role all of these years expelled from him in suffocating waves. She dipped her chin in the barest of nods, encouraging him.

She would take care of the remaining slaver pirates, leaving Cid for the boy's vengeance. It would suit Kamy well enough. Then she would leave the slaves to their ship and uncertain freedom and return to-

" Tell me, Shadow. "

She paused in her tugging the glove back over her bare hand, the visor of her helm directed at the young son of Jeedai.

" You said Cid broke his promise to you. About ... About me. What was it, then? What was the plan, what did The Force have in store for me?"

She flexed her gloved fingers, then moved towards the boy and the sealed door.

:: He promised he would bring you up right. As for what the Force wants from you...I do not have those answers. ::

Her hand rested on the electronic panel for the door's controls.

:: But...would you really want to know? ::

The door opened, and the Zabrak had disappeared. ~