In the event there were still people on this forsaken moon, no one would be absconding with his ship.

(I will write his farewell later, but for now, I have a few hours work to do)

Around him, the jungle chattered, hooted, chirped at him. The life he felt through the force was immense, varied. A churn of emotions and instinct. Beneath his feet, the spongy turf squished, then turned to muddy, grassy, then back again. To his nostrils came the hot scent of leaves, with the musk of moss and flowers.

Choc didn’t like it. “What the heck am I even doing here?” he muttered aloud, stepping over a rotting log. A bright pink aracnid hopped away, hooting shrilly at his approach. Jumping a bit, the half Corellian swore.

Then continued trudging through the undergrowth. “And why am I still going forward?”

And said it again. “Why?”

Trees grew thicker here, looming closer together, but not close enough so he couldn’t get by. Choc stopped and glared ahead. To either side, the trees were almost one solid wall of bark, hedging him in, blocking most light from Yavin with fungi and vines.

“Oh, I see.” Choc crossed his arms. “A Path.”

An inch from his face, the white ringed mouth roared. He smelled the raw meat - what else would they feed a wookiee – on its breath. No. On HIS breath. Choc snarled back, then grinned.

The wookiee paused for a moment, claws still upraised, utter confusion grafted in its cream-circled eyes.

“What’s happening?” murmured Choc. He well knew he was talking to himself. He’d been without sleep for how long? Still, his feet took him closer to the edge of the water. Not resisting, the half Corellian watched them, daze falling over him. Perhaps it was the ghosts.

In the light from the ceiling, the Whyren’s Reserve glowed, amber and gold, trembling as the Alderannian crystal decanter drifted through the air, following Tanfa’s hand as he directed it. Laughing, Choc drank from his glass and held it up.

Water nuzzled his boot as he stepped on the first of the submerged stepping-stones. Only now did the half Corellian realize that all noise had ended: no creatures chittering, hooting, no birds singing. “Clever ghosts. You’ve gotten all the birds to be silent.” Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d eaten?

“Geeze, kid, wipe your mouth.”

Bright blue eyes looked quizzically up at him, then widened. “Oh, shorry, Chocky.”

Water ploshed against his boot. Second stone. “Hide, ghosts.” Not a murmur this time, a whisper. “Someone’s here. Someone’s leading me.” The darkside was growing, shadows from the temple lengthening, tickling the sides of his boots like the water did. “A guy that-“

Eitn was screaming in his arms, the breath of ending so close as the speeder just missed them.

Now she was silent, but in his arms as the thermal detonator threw them both back, an inferno straining at the dark force he’d thrown around them both.

“-a ‘guy’ that does not like ghosts, Choquet D’Var.”

As his feet at last stepped on the island temple, Choc stopped and raised his eyes.

Before him, a transparent vision, blending so well with the dark of the temple that the half Corellian’s weary eyes struggled to make it out. “Seems you have no call to be against ghosts…”

“You are insolent to the one who saved you? Who indulged your every whim? Helped you bypass obstacles with the power you deride by calling ‘force fingers?’ And you believed you were a prodigy.” The specter crossed its arms. “You are an insolent worm. You can barely stand.”

It was true. Choc collapsed, then gritted his teeth and brought himself to his hands and knees. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Ah, pain…”

Jerking in surprise, the half Corellian looked up.

“You attempt to override hunger with temporary pain. Foolish.” The specter of the old Sith lord appeared before him. Light, a faint burning reflected off him, sullen, almost volcanic. “Draw upon both if you wish to survive.”

“Of course,” snorted Choc. “And going outside to hunt for food would be too simple.”

“Leave then,” hissed the shade. “Only know I will not train you if you do.”

“Picky dead Sith lord, aren’t you?”

Ignoring this, the spirit of the long dead Exar Kun glared down at the half Corellian. Around them, the darkness grew until the tiny slits in the ceiling could well have been lights with low batteries, the light dimming, then fading out altogether. The spider feeling intensified. Painfully. “Agh,” he groaned. “Easy on the fangs!”

“Do not hesitate!” snapped Exar Kun. “Open yourself to the power! Embrace it!” His form drew closer to Choc, who shrank back against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest. “Why do you stop?!”

“I’ll forget,” murmured Choc. “About why I’m doing this…”

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” snapped Choc. “Your great legacy of evil continued through me and all that monkey-lizard dung.” The half Corellian glared up at Exar Kun. “I’d end up no better than Xarkun.”

“Another fool. One who does not feel pain will have one less source of strength.”

“Sith these days,” muttered the half Corellian. “Upstarts with delusions of grandeur.”

Pain, sudden and severe, lanced up and down his throat. It felt as though a pair of Gamorrean war cleaver handles were tightening around his Adam’s apple. In the darkness around him, purple sparks flared as he gasped for air. “W-what are y-you-“

“Forget,” ordered the specter. “You will die, otherwise…”

Pawing at his neck, Choc coughed. A thin trickle of saliva streamed from the corner of his mouth, burning against his suddenly frigid skin. His lungs shuddered in his chest and he cast about, searching for light. That was the thing, the thing he feared most – dying in the dark. He’d heard of men who fell victim to mining accidents, their fake skies falling down upon them, to see nothing but blackness as they died, alone in the silence-

-he left the Democracy and strode out of the spaceport. Behind him, the roar of engines sounded and the half Corellian turned to watch the ship lance into the sky, carrying away the Corellian ghost with the Bloodstripe and the Senator.

Now, here on the edge of death, he saw another ghost, one with pale blue eyes.

-around them all, the Wounded Marnock clunked and settled on the deck of the Star Destroyer. Chris shouted for everybody to get into the smuggler’s compartments. He stomped on the floor and revealed the two storage spaces. Leaping in one and crouching down, Choc glimpsed Eitn as she leaped in after him and her blue eyes flashed in his direction before she pulled the cover back over the hole, cutting off the light.

And the pain left. Choc lay, sweat mingling with the spit and the iron reek of blood from his ruptured Eustachian tube vessels. With agonizing slowness, he sat up. It hurt even to graze his throat with his fingers and swallowing was sheer hell.

"Excellent. Those experiences are banished from your mind," declared Exar Kun. He spread his arms. "And now we may begin your training."

Banished? Or buried? wondered the half Corellian.

Taking a careful breath - his throat protested, still feeling the previous abuse - the half Corellian stared up to where the ceiling was supposed to be. With no indication of stars or moon, he could have been in another dimension and he would never know it.

"Darkness. A slate. An extension of the mind." The voice rang so small in the expanse of the room.

"Why do you say that?"

Choc started, surprised to discover he had been the one musing aloud. Even more surprising was the fact that Exar Kun sounded curious.

"Explain," the sith lord ordered.

Lifting an unseen hand and resting it against his forehead, the half Corellian sighed. "In the darkness, there is no sense of sight, no information to be gleaned by light blending around objects." He took a deeper breath, the wounds tugging at the air filling his lungs. "In darkness, one's mind will paint images, sustaining life, purpose, hope through visions and dreams. To instill a sense of order out of nothing."

Exar Kun remained silent, so Choc continued. "It is similar to children who watch the clouds, identifying near shapes in their construct. Only, when there is no light, no speech, no sensation except," here, he injected a little dry sarcasm. "for a sithing cold, hard stone floor putting bruises in my rear, only then must one take a close look to make out the shapes."

"The shapes of what?" Exar Kun's tone was unreadable and Choc could sense nothing but the freezing dark side that always accompanied the specter.

"The shapes of who he is. Of what he is. And his capabilities," finished the half Corellian simply. Rolling over onto his side, he pillowed his head with one arm.

Silence fell, landed, and stayed for five minutes.

Choc waited, attempting to breath quieter, then sat up. "Well?" he prodded. "Did I pass?"

Laughter, not altogether unpleasant, echoed all around him. "Your mind is bright, apprentice. Who knows? I might enjoy training you..."

Choc let out a sigh. He leaned on a nearby tree and looked up at the early morning sky. A breeze rustled the damp leaves of the jungle and stirred the woolamanders from their arboreal nests. No birdsong yet, but at least they were out in the open air and away from the temple. “So what else is new?” he replied, massaging his hands.

Hovering over the stone on which the half Corellian had been concentrating, the spirit of Exar Kun gestured to it. “You cannot use the force for external purpose. You are pathetic. You cannot move pebbles, much less this stone.”

It was the same as the three Jedi masters told him, back on the Republic flagship. “So, no Force Lightning To Cook Dewback Steaks,” he ticked off on his fingers. “No Force Tripping Neighborhood Bullies, no Force Dangling Smugglers Over Active Volcanos, and no Force Convincing Barmen For Rounds On The House.” He threw up his hands. “Tell me why I ever wanted to be a Jedi, again?”

“Enough.” Exar Kun crossed his arms. “In your travels recently, you have used the force, yes, but on yourself. Speed and movement, masking your aura: all key requirements for an assassin. Already, you use the force subconsciously in the height of danger. Now you must learn to use them on command.”

Nodding, Choc rolled his shoulders and stretched his back. “So, then.”

Turning, Exar Kun pointed at a black smudge, poking out of the treeline in the distance. “You see that mountain?”

Choc shaded his eyes and squinted. “Yeah.”

“Run. Run until you cannot.”

Like several bolts clattering to the deck of a ship, the half Corellian cracked his knuckles, then complied. Muggy air drew sweat from his brow even before he started. His boots pounded against the forest loam, slipping on patches of mud. A river appeared ahead, he did not stop, but splashed across it. From the depths, a slippery rock reached up and caught his foot.

With a grunt, he fell to the ground, but continued his roll, flipped to his feet from his hands, and ran on. Choc drew on the dark side of the force-

-and nearly pitched forward. “Whoa!” For a moment, he felt as though he had tried to lift a light package and found it to be full of duracrete once he tried. The force did not come as easily as before. “What the-“

“You are on your own, D’Var.” Exar Kun appeared alongside him as he sprinted along. “No survival instincts to save you, to draw the power.” Extending a hand, the specter continued. “Run faster.”

Around his neck, Choc felt the force squeeze again, tightening bit by bit. Biting off a curse, he tried to obey. Overhead, the treetops blurred past. Vines and low hanging branches dangled in his path; some, he dodged, others caught at his clothing and clawed at his skin. Ignoring the cuts, the half Corellian leaped over a fallen tree. When he reached a clearing, he raised his eyes to see the mountain a bit closer. At least he was making progress. All the endurance runs during Infiltrator training must be paying off.

“Reach the mountain in the next minute or die.”

Panting, Choc tossed a disbelieving look at Exar Kun. “Are you stark raving stupid?!” he gasped. “It’s still pretty far away.”

“If you cannot reach it before then, you have no right to the title of Sith Apprentice,” replied the specter. “You will either succeed or die.”

“Hang on,” protested Choc. “I thought this was a non-life-or-death situation!”

“Fool. You waste your breath on argument and the mountain grows no closer. Very well.” With a swift motion, Exar Kun pointed at Choc’s feet. Something grabbed the half Corellian’s ankles and he sprawled headlong on the ground.

Coughing up dirt, Choc blew out his nose, dislodging jungle debris. “Emp’s black bones! What are you doing?!”

“Go back and start over.”

*

Two days later dawned just as the first, but this new morning found Choc collapsed on the shore of the lake surrounding the temple, half submerged in the shallows. Half of him soaking wet, he couldn’t move. Every muscle rebelled against the mere thought of moving.

“Sith.”

A beetle scuttled across the back of his neck, the ensuing tingle mingling with the pain shooting up and down his throat.

“Sithin’ sith.”

Now cursing was a paradox – it made him feel better, but it then felt like he swallowed a hot coal. All thanks to Exar Kun and his “two-for-one torture and training market day special.”

At least the water cooled him off and the grass pillowed his head nicely. Around him, the woolamanders hooted as they went on the hunt and a flock of winged creatures cried to one another as they drifted on the thermals high above. Choc admitted the peace was a welcome change from belittling speech from a Sith ghost. To his left, the water trickled and rippled.

“Oh great,” muttered the half Corellian, still not moving. “Water doesn’t move in a lake this small.”

“Well spotted. Get up or I will raise the water level and let you drown.”

Choc rolled onto his back and groaned as the change in position hired new personnel in the Pain Department. Anger, fury, rage – he could feel none of it now, merely weariness. In his wavering vision, he saw the living force, a curtain, shimmering in waves of crimson around Exar Kun and the Massassi temple, silver and azure in the air and ground around him. Raising his hand, he attempted to catch a wavering strand of it. Yet, when his fingers reached it, the piece floated away.

“Get up,” ordered Exar Kun again. “Run.”

Somehow, Choc got to his feet. He swayed, his arms limp at his sides. “Thirty-second time’s the charm, eh?”

“Run!”

He ran. If one could call it that. It appeared as though he were falling over the course of several feet: head drooping, boots scrabbling against the ground. Around him, the threads of the force dangled, tantalizing, tempting, but he knew they would pull away if he dared reach.

Up ahead, the familiar sights of the journey appeared. He closed his eyes, suddenly fed up with his failure. He’d run so many times, he bet himself he could run the entire distance and not fall. Heck, he’d be able to do that anyway since he couldn’t run fast enough to not notice obstacles.

“Ah, SITH!” snarled Choc. He stopped, fell, and landed on his face. A sharp thud cracked against his forehead, announcing the arrival of Unconsciousness and his strolling minstrels.

[Here follows half of Rimera’s work and half of mine]

When he awoke, he found himself somewhere familiar... he was on the Wounded Marnock. Sitting in the captain's chair was a woman, with wavy brown hair, dressed like many of the pirates he had seen. Her back was turned to him, but she pointed at the co-pilot's seat with her thumb. "You gonna stand there all day, or you gonna sit down and talk?" she asked, then turned to face him. She had very tan skin, and hazel eyes with a cocky grin he was sure he had seen somewhere before.

They ran through the back alleys of the Smugglers’ Moon, the bellows and hootings of their pursuers fading gradually behind them. “I’ll say one thing,” called the girl he was following. “You sure know how to tick off Wookiees and Gran. She came to a halt in the middle of the alley and levered her fingers into the holes of a nearby grating.

Choc kept a tight hold over his neck, stemming the deep slash on the side below and behind his ear. “Hey, who are you anyway?”

She threw a cocky grin over her shoulder as the grating came free with a clunk. “Tinder Malk. You’re Choc, right?”

How did your daughter know my name?”

“She always was a bright girl, even when she met you.” The woman grinned. “The question is, how do you know who I am?”

Choc snorted. “The way you sit in that chair. Like there’s no other ship in the galaxy for you but this one.”

"You're a smart one. Not that many like you around, anymore," she said lightly, and stretched, turning to sit in her chair sideways, her arm over the back of it. "Tinder saw somethin' special about you, that's for sure," she said softly, her eyes shining.

At the mention of the name, Choc clenched his fist but kept his voice neutral. “Don’t know as she’s seeing many things now that Xarkun’s got his hooks in her.” Taking a deep breath, he raised an eyebrow. “It…may be that it is too late. For Tinder.”

“You know that she has fallen to the dark side and yet you say, ‘it MAY be too late?’” asked the woman, a sad smile crossing her face. She laid a hand on the navigation console, almost stroking it. “You must kill her... you must not show any mercy to Darth Sera. She's a monster, and she won't stop until she is destroyed." Cocking her head, Tinder’s mother stared at him. “Why are you going to this trouble? Why not train with the Jedi?”

Choc shook his head. “Never mind that. Why are you asking me this? You are her mother? Shouldn’t you be begging me not to kill her?’

"Darth Sera is not my daughter... and the girl that you met was only a shadow of her. Tinder didn't give her self over to Xarkun... she hadn't been allowed to have a ‘self’ from the beginning. She has her father to thank for that... he twisted her, almost from birth. He thought that implant of his would protect her, would keep her mind intact even while he fragmented it. He was wrong," she said, and looked away. "My baby was killed the moment her brain was removed from her own body and placed into that... that thing."

She looked up. "But her soul is still there, trapped inside of Darth Sera. You touched that soul once... when she rescued you, she did something against her nature, something her 'captain' wouldn't have approved of, even though her mind found a way to justify what she had done. And your friend, Eitn... she re-awakened something within Tinder that had been killed a long time ago... her empathy. Eitn came to represent humanity in Tinder's mind. That's why Darth Sera targeted her and you. The two of you reminded her of the potential for humanity to be good. That's what she had to kill within her."

“Unless…” Digging his palms into his tired eyes, Choc waggled his head back and forth as he thought something through. “Unless it’s buried. Just like this.” He gestured all around. “Given the lack of Sith Lords charging through here, I can only assume this is with the memories I’ve hidden from Exar Kun.”

“You could be right,” agreed the woman. A warning light went off on one of the consoles. "We're out of time. Just promise me, you'll kill her. Do it thoroughly, don't try to show her any mercy," she said, and stood up, standing very close to him. She laid a hand on his cheek. "Kill Darth Sera and you'll set Tinder free," she said softly. "But, allow this part of you to be found, to be abolished or destroyed, and it would be the same as killing any good that was ever inside of her. Keep your soul intact, Choc... don't let Darth Sera win.”

*

Choc awoke to find Exar Kun’s spirit floating over him. He sat up and the ground shook beneath him. Whipping his head around, he found he had reached the mountain. “What the-“

“Excellent,” hissed the Sith Lord. “You have succeeded, though you must concentrate on keeping your consciousness while using the force to this extent.”

“I get that. I remember stopping, falling, then waking up here.” Pebbles in varying shades of black scuffed against his boots. “So, what’s next on the Evil Sith Lord training? Walking on hot coals.”

“No, not hot coals.”

The ground rumbled, accompanying the sudden reek of sulfur from a nearby cave in the side of the mountain.

“Tell me, D’Var, have you ever walked on molten lava?”

The floating city of Nar Shaddaa filled the viewport of the Wounded Marnock. Perin gnawed on the tip of his tongue, hissing through his nose. Somehow, he didn’t like the spaceport controller’s abrupt tone, but didn’t voice his concerns to Eitn.

Not that she was around to notice the abruptness.

Over the past few days, the young Mistryl kept to the quarters. Whenever he came in to bring her dinner or check to see she was all right, Eitn did not offer any attempt at conversation. Late at night sometimes he though he heard her crying. Then, when he went to see, Perin found her practicing, punching the air, hands and feet slicing through the air as though she had a deep hatred for it.

Flicking the repulsor levers, the Lankashiirian guided the ‘Marnock down onto the pad. Powering down, he half-turned to call for Eitn and jumped to find her standing directly behind him. “Ah! We’re here, uh, Eitn.”

“Good. Where’re we going?” Her voice was quiet.

“The Corellian sector. I’ve got a friend who owns a garage there.” Standing up, Perin stretched, then checked his blaster. The cell was half drained and he frowned. He’d forgotten to restock after his last job. Thankfully, he still possessed the six hundred credits he was going to pay Choc for passage. “Got your weapons?” he asked.

A flash of light caught the blade as the vibroshiv spun in the air and the young Mistryl caught it as it came down again.

“It might not be enough.” Perin, with some reluctance, reached behind his back and produced a long, curved blade, almost as big as a sword. Twirling it, he presented it to her handle first. “Try this.”

“Wow.” Arching an eyebrow, she took it and swung it from side to side. “Nice. Where’d you get this?”

“It’s a long story.”

She handed it back. “Thanks but I’ll manage without it. I am a Mistryl, after all.” A squeak from her leather half gloves punctuated her statement.

Perin stowed the weapon back in its place. From the intense gleam in her eyes, he could tell she meant it. As he punched the code to open the hatch and extend the ramp, he cleared his throat. “So, what are you going to do, now? I mean, Choc didn’t tell me what to do other than to get you here and make sure you stay out of trouble for awhile…”

”He really said that?”

Starting down the ramp, the Lankashiirian nodded.

“Anything else?” The young Mistryl padded down after him.

“Nope.” Perin breathed deep the smell of Nar Shaddaa – the tang of ryll, the heady cigarra smoke, engine oil and starship grease, cheap booze, and sweat. Comfortable feelings of home associated themselves with that odor and he grew a bit more cheerful.

Behind, Eitn did not look around but up. If she squinted, she could make out the stars, faded behind the glitzy lights of the surrounding towers and buildings. She wondered where Choc was now and touched her patch absently. In her other hand, the young Mistryl gripped the vibroshiv. “I’m going to find him again…”

Perin held his tongue, knowing that anything he said might cause her to fall silent. To be frank, he was dying to know what her story was and whether Choc and she were close. If they hadn’t been close, then he didn’t know why she had been crying the last few nights…

“I’m going to find Choc again,” she repeated. “And when that happens, I will be able to fight by his side and help him, even if he can use the force and I can’t. That way, I’ll be able to come along no matter what he tries to do.”

Unable to do anything but nod, Perin wondered what in the name of stars Choc had done to her to put a subzero tone in her voice when she said his name. “Ummm, how about a drink?” he offered when he figured it was safe to talk.

However safe it had been to talk, he soon found out how hazardous it was to let Eitn anywhere near Corellian Ale.

[And so, as the sun slips slowly over the horizon of Nal Hutta, we bid a young Mistryl and Lankashiirian pirate a fond farewell for seven years. In between RPG fanfiction available upon interest.]

1. Forums are not to be used to post stories.
2. All discussions including language and content must be suitable for teens.
3. The owner/moderator(s) of this forum is solely responsible for content posted within this area.
4. All forum abuse must be reported to the moderator(s).

1. Forum admin/moderator
2. Fanatic (on site for more than 2 years)
3. Fan (on site for more than a year)
4. Regular (on site for more than 6 months)
5. Camper (on site for more than a month)
6. Apprentice (on site for more than a week)
7. Newbie (on site for less than a week)