L???? ?o R??
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Post by L???? ?o R?? on Sept 1, 2013 15:51:08 GMT -8
How do you take one more step when exhaustion has taken root in your innermost being? When you have spent everything that you have to give, from where do you seize the strength to put one foot in front of the other? Is it even possible to press on when you have been crushed into nothing?
This is what I feel, ascending my way from the stomach of the sarlaac. How many years has it been? How long have I spent inside this wretched beast, fighting the relentless mental and physical attacks? How long have I wandered from organ to organ inside the maze of its entrails, and how long has it been since I gave up hope of escape?
But almost by chance that fateful night I came to look up, to feel the Felucian raindrop, a disaster upon my cheek, and to taste fresher air than I had ever known, a crime to my palate. And I climb now, because after so many years what is a few days? But the effort is more than I have ever known, as the creature redoubles its effort to keep me detained. I climb with one hand kept free to ward off those slimy appendages that would pull me under again; I climb with my mind poised in constant vigilance against the illusions that would persuade me to abandon reality.
I have been climbing like this, up the soft tissue of the monster's acidic gullet, for three days now.
The reserves of strength, if they even existed when I began, are empty. I know this. The sarlaac knows this. We both agree that my body would be far more grateful to me were my hand to let go of this grip. Let me fall, let me die, let it feast on me. What is it that makes me move onward? What is it that makes me rebuff the perpetual onslaught constantly?
It is power. When your strength has run dry, the thing that allows you to press onward beyond your limits is the power that you have, the power that you are to obtain. When your spirit is defeated, your prowess will not allow you to yield so easily. And so it is with me.
The words of Seleevan Khar ring still clearly in my ears. What he knew then has become so with me now. When the mortal limit is crushed, what remains is something more. What is it that I have become?
Is it not obvious? With a sharp exhale, I bump my right hand to a higher hold, and work my feet up beneath me, and thrust out my left hand to catch and sever the offending sarlaac member that threatens me here. The monster screeches, and I drop it; I look upwards for a moment at the lip of the crevasse with unseeing eyes, and then move on further, towards the end. Is it not obvious? I am no longer a mere mortal, I have become a god.
With ever-weakening hand strength I climb up, but these hands will not weaken enough for me to fall. How could I claim my own deity if I cannot handle this much? While my legs tremble beneath me, they do not give. What sort of god would fall from here? Not this one! Anger at the frailty of my own body consumes me. Empowers me. And subsequently strengthened by this brief flash of emotion, I find the next three moves up to come easier than the last. Ha ha! I would not succumb to such a beast as this!
But the sarlaac, you see, has a different plan in mind. For years it has been treating me as just another piece of meat; but now, with its prey threatening to escape, it realizes that I am more than any normal mortal. And the spark of fury that I experienced just then seems to have glimmered in its mind, and catalyzed the realization within the beast that I am, indeed, a god among men. In answer, the beast will contend my claim. And I perceive with my Force Sight the approach of a full dozen tentacles. It seems to me that this is the last-ditch effort of the monster to trap me; for it has been very gradually sustaining wounds as it tried previously, but now there are no more fresh tendrils left. If I can survive this last bit, I will have my freedom. Conversely...
The beast begins with a cautious approach, sliding three of them along the path that I have just wrought along its throat. It dawns on me that it intends to snatch one or both of my feet and pull me down that way, but this is not difficult to counter. At my mental command, a horizontal Force Barrier is conjured beneath my feet, in midair. In my Sight, an invisible hexagon upon which I can stand. And so I release my grip on the wall, and seize one half of Trogdor in my left hand; in the right, I draw Crisis. The tentacles find their upward progress impeded (inexplicably, I am sure) by the smooth energy Barrier. But it will not stop them for long; they press around it and explore its surface, and will find their way presently to the edge and come up and around. Meanwhile, two larger specimens are threatening me from above. The creature can multitask, I will grant it that.
These appendages draw back slightly, to gain momentum for cross-chopping horizontal sweeps. In response, I light Trogdor's end and hold it at shoulder-height on my left side, and crouch (presenting a minimized target). They sweep in, at great speed– but I arrest the left side's approach early, with a well-placed strike, not from Trogdor, but from Crisis! It burns the flesh and the creature flinches, pulling it up. The right side tentacle is coming it at head-height, however, and if it strikes me I will surely be cast from this makeshift platform. But I see it coming well. My vision, after all, contains the full sphere about me. I drop to my knees from the crouch that I held, and twist Trogdor so that its blades are held aloft and the butt of the half-staff that I hold touches down to the Barrier. Unable to resist the whip-like momentum of this tentacle swing, the sarlaac severs its own limb on these lightsaber blades which blaze where my head was a moment ago.
"Pitiful creature," say I. "You stand no chance against a god."
A sense of solemnity, of duty, of purpose, falls over me as I utter the words aloud for the first time. It means something to think it, but it is entirely different to state it. To cement it in my being with these words. But there is no time to relax.
I have to contend now with the three rising tentacles, which are spread in a triangle around me, as well as three others which have come to join them, so that all sides of the hexagon are singly occupied by an aggressor from the beast. A clever play, and yet still not enough. Holstering Crisis back at my waist, I sweep my right hand in a semicircle around me, reaching out with Telekinesis. It catches one, two, three, four, five tentacles, gathering them like stalks of wheat, pulling them up, knocking them into the sixth: and I rise, and with a swing of Trogdor, sever them all in a bundle as with a scythe.
I then see a tentacle being drawn down, and I do not understand its intention until it is too late. Rocketing upwards from the belly of the beast, it strikes into the underside of my Barrier, shattering it, and in response I am thrust upwards. Three other tentacles rise with me to catch me early from this flight. Nearing the apex of my trajectory, I am able to throw a slice with Trogdor that reaches to the first tentacle coming behind me– one would say with impeccable accuracy, seeing as this is a traditional blind spot for a being, but one would have forgotten that I can see it as clearly as my hand in front of my face– and severs it like the others. This motion, however, causes me to spin such that I cannot reach the other two with ease, and one of the tentacles seizes me by the waist, while the other reaches out to grip the long shaft of the half of Trogdor that I wield now.
My waist is not a problem, for I still wear Freedom. And, with no more than a thought, I am able to activate it: the energy cells arrayed throughout the duster alight and amplify an energy sheath that, within a moment's time, covers the outer layer. It severely burns the sarlaac's grappling member and causes it to release. While not as fast or effective as a lightsaber in its action, this trenchcoat works very well, and is the reason that I wear it even in temperate climates such as this.
To deal with the other tentacle, I make use of the spinning momentum that I had obtained as a result of my first slash; turning the blades of the lightsaber back around, the sarlaac is left unable to help itself as the saber it is gripping cuts its own limb off at my direction as I start to fall.
And then there is only the tentacle which broke my Barrier, and my fall. The fall is nothing, however. I merely reach out to the fleshy side wall, and drive the lightsaber blades into it with both hands (I can do this since I have freed the right hand from wielding Crisis) until it arrests my fall as the hilt catches with a jerk and tearing of the beast's tissue.
The jolting stop pulls my body down to full arm-extension, hanging from the embedded saber like a tree branch. My legs swing beneath me and a spattering of fluid comes gushing down. Under normal circumstances I would be only in a minor predicament to recover, but the shooting pain in the beast's side has alerted it to my exact location, and its last tentacle comes rushing at me to swat me away like a bee that has stung it. I cannot perform the Barrier trick to catch myself, because the combination of the swaying of my body on the saber staff and the fluid would cause me to slide right off; and even then, I might still be hit by that tentacle. A bowl-like structure of Barriers is likewise out of the question, I have not got the strength left to summon them with the Force in time. My eyebrows raise as the sarlaac's final gambit comes ever closer.
Things appear to be grim. But I am no mere mortal.
"I am a GOD!"
The words erupt from my mouth as I swing out with my foot in sync with the pendulous motion of my dangling body. And an idea comes to me as I do. The foot strikes the tentacle, and as contact is made, I summon the last vestiges of mental strength that I can in order to inject my aura like a blade into the precious soft tissues of this piece of garbage that dares contend with me. A solid projection of the Force: a Force Spike...from my foot.
As it connects, I am gratified but at the same time unsurprised to see the region I hit explode into a pulpy mess, and the battered and bloodied limb withdraw. Just like that, it has come to an end. And I breathe out a sigh I did not know that I was holding, and realize that I am panting. But I have secured my safety and my freedom.
The remainder of the climb proceeded without incident. Upon my return to the surface of Felucia, I wiped the sweat from my face and sat at the gaping mouth of the sarlaac chasm, contemplating what more there was for me to do here. The conclusion I reached was that I had nothing left here. In fact, I was rather tired of humidity in general (what do you expect? I was inside a beast's stomach for some years), and this jungle was nothing if not that. Therefore, I made it my priority to find my ship.
Years of imprisonment have caused me to forget where on this accursed planet I landed the Yama. But there are scores of unexpected benefits to having been blinded. One such thing is the fact that, if I focus hard enough, I can see literally the entire planet from this one spot. Now, being subject to substantial exhaustion, I do not wish to try that right now. But I can extend my line of sight to several hundred meters without making too much mental trouble for myself. When you do this, you lose some of the details. But I don't particularly care about seeing all the trees; what I need is the forest. More specifically, the Star Wing inside the forest, somewhere. It will stand out. It is still tainted with a bit of my aura. Psychometry experts would even say that they could feel me plain as day all over it. I find it before long, and I get up with a mild groan. Paying no heed to my fatigue, or even gratitude to being free of the creature, the trek through the forest begins. It is not that far from here, and thanks to the vigilance of my Sight, I can avoid all encounters. While there is nothing that could hinder a god from his purpose, there is something to be said for my desire to not waste my power in an unnecessary way. A lifetime ago, this was a tenet of the Way of Lapay. And anyways, we are always on the move.
But where to go? Well, I would surely return to Rattatak! To return to my beloved planet is all that I need. I yearn for the comfort of Castle Ventress, which I had taken so long ago for my own. And, like Seleevan Khar to the Vors, I would take my position as a god over the Rattataki. Which, allow me to say, are a much more formidable people to be the god of than the Vors. The Vors are musicians, the Rattataki are warriors. I will unite the tribes under my command, and resurrect my Lapay clan there.
Entering the Yama, I activate the navicomputer, which plots for me a route to Rattatak along The Axis super-hyperoute. Seeing that this will be a fairly straightforward journey, I decide to set it to autopilot and head to the personal meditation room inside the ship where I will promptly get some sleep as soon as we leave Felucia's gravity well.
I slept calmly, visited with a dream of my younger self. We met in a room hewn roughly from the trunk of a tree. I saw him first, in a mirror, while I floated in a cold dark void. He looked like me, but lankier. Younger. And his eyes were whole. It dimly occurred to me that I had had this dream before, from the other side. On his– my– back was a sword, which I had long since gifted to Dice. I smiled, and remembered this moment clearly.
"Who are you?"
He and I spoke at the same time. And that was when I stepped through the mirror, into the wooden room before him. It was warm. He was surprised to see me before him, so I spoke to put him at ease.
"Ryu."
And then, with Battle Meditation, I decided to give him a piece of myself. The gift of Force Sight. And I felt the dawning realization that he would become me. He learned at that moment that he would be blinded. So the Force Sight was imperative, you know. Without it, he might die at the hands of Solus. And then a god might not be born.
He tried to return his feelings to me in that link of Battle Meditation that we shared for a moment. The need to find Gannon, the desires and aspirations of a father's child which are so narrow in their scope. Oh, Ryu. How much you will come to learn! But I cannot simply tell you what power is, you must discover it on your own. Even my words are meaningless until it becomes true for yourself. I know that you will achieve it. I am you.
How foolish you are as I see you now, and yet how nostalgic is it for me to regard you in this way. My dead glass eyes glow with the light of Force Sight as I piece together that red aura of his. It is good, it is strong, but it is also full of holes. Oh, how different is mine now! For, Ryu, when you become a god, your weaknesses must be filled in. The path ahead of you is so long and tiresome, but you must do it alone.
A god is always alone.
He fell to his knees, vomited. I grinned, again gripped with that loving nostalgia. Everything he holds dear will need to be stripped from him. It is the understanding of that which made him so sick.
"Everything that you need to know I have told you. It is good to see you again." I meant every word of that. "The only thing left here is–" I gazed at the door that would lead him back to Ison. When he had gone through it, I would return in my own way.
I helped myself to my feet. Then I spoke to myself– or rather, he told me that he was ready to face his future. The birth of a deity. "It is time to go, then."
I turned away, returning to the mirror from whence I came to be with him, but spoke these last words with a glance and a soft smile. "I'll be seeing you. Remember what I said."
I was torn from my slumber by a combination of panicked alarms and severe turbulence. Punching a button to open the door to the corridor with a hiss, I hustled through and back to the cockpit to observe the situation from a perspective wherein I could react appropriately and was rewarded for my trouble by view, not of hyperspace, but of motionless stars and a nearby asteroid belt. Not only that, but a swarm of unfamiliar ships.
It seems I had fallen into an ambush set by pirates. Brilliant.
Not only that, but there was clearly a ship or device around here somewhere with the capability to project gravity wells, because there is not a planet in sight. I guessed that there might be a base or something of the sort housed in the asteroid belt. Assessing the situation, I flipped up a compartment on the dashboard that would prepare a nice hot drink for me. Something was needed to help rouse me from my groggy post-nap state.
I switched to manual from the autopilot for starters. The enemy ships were at 3 o'clock and about sixty degrees below the horizontal from me. The asteroid belt was too wide to discern whether or not it housed their base, but I would rather not take chances by seeking cover from them within. Besides, it is good space protocol to not enter asteroid fields, ever.
To put myself in a favorable evasive position, I angle upwards and accelerate to nearly maximum speed. The pirates, which are headed towards me, will need to slow down somewhat in order to attain a proper pursuit vector in an efficient manner, and this gives me more time to assess the situation.
From the distance, a salvo of stray shots pepper space at and around me, but this only performs superficial shield damage.
There are four pirate craft that engage in the pursuit. Three other present craft disengage and head the other direction– presumably to obtain reinforcements or supplies from their surely-nearby base. That is fine by me.
The ships in pursuit are gunships, perhaps six or seven times larger each than my little starfighter. I do not know the models, but I do know that a straight-up fight is rather disfavorable in my case. It is clear that I will need to get away, and quickly. Fortunately, the sublight accelerator motor on my ship is more than capable of providing a nice large gap between mine and theirs. Actuating it takes away from the primary weapons power, but that is something that I expect to not be using at all.
Checking their position is not a difficult task with Force Sight, and I take note that their pursuit has essentially stopped. I guess that even though they sought out that pursuit vector, the all-too-sudden boost of speed demonstrated how much faster my vessel was than theirs. I take a sip of the drink before I realize that I only see two ships behind me now.
Alarms sound off again as the entire ship is thrown into more turbulence. The other pirate ship has suddenly emerged right in front of me! Confusion has barely set in before I realize that it performed a microjump to get ahead of me. In fact, I recognize how lucky I am to have not been struck and vaporized instantly by that ship. As its turrets swivel and take aim, I hastily pitch the ship forward and send off a quick volley with the ion cannons to try to disrupt whatever systems I can hit without taking time to target. Predictably, there is no noticeable effect. But, as I dip below the plane of the ship's hull, I am reprieved from the turbolaser volleys with shields holding strong at 85%. Diving well below it and turning back to face it from beneath so that I have space, I take the necessary moments to target and give it a stream of fire from the primary laser cannons, followed up with four sequential concussion missile shots, targeting the propulsion systems. How I would appreciate to see a fuel explosion demolish this craft.
The missiles strike but the hull holds up well under fire, with the four superficial explosions clearly leaving damage but nothing crippling. The target, in turn, is pitching up and rolling in order to maintain the space between us but be able to bring its topside guns to bear on me.
Another series of alarm beeps alerts me to the microjump of a second ship below the first, and I realize that they have coordinated to catch me between two topside volleys from their craft. I must get out of there, or I will certainly be annihilated. The SLAM is still available for me to use, so I quickly tilt down and jet towards the newly arrived craft. I intend to get too close to their surface for their guns to be able to target me properly, and hopefully the other ship will hold fire to avoid friendly casualty. Well, this is simply a trench run defense, right? And my ship compared to theirs is approximately an X-wing.
A rumbling of my ship indicates that the latter was not going to be the case. But in this position, as I level out, I have a moment to fire a pair of concussion missiles head-on at the bridge, and maneuver into a barrel roll to avoid the explosion. Some combination of the missiles and the strafing fire from the other ship permitted this damage to penetrate shields and hull alike to strike my target heavily, and I am pleased to see a series of smaller chain-reaction explosions appear elsewhere amidst the hull. Sweeping into a quick about-face, I need to get out of range of the first ship before I can try to handle it.
I am fortunately provided with some cover by the debris of the now-defunct second ship, and the first ship is forced to pitch down and make another micro-jump to catch up with my Star Wing. This has given my shields some time to recover towards fuller capacity.
I use the time I have bought to consider which systems are responsible for the micro-jumping. If I can destroy these, I can get away. Force Sight again comes to my aid here, as I can peer directly through the ship's hull and see what is, at this point, cooling down from their most recent maneuver. And I have just the thing to keep that cooldown from happening– those ion cannons that I had used to poor effect a few minutes ago, when I can target properly, are perfect for this application. And since I have proven these gunships to still be modestly vulnerable to trench run disease, that is the method I will employ once again.
The thought strikes me that I do not really know why the third ship is hanging back. But I can handle this one on my own. The more that that one fails to engage, the more probable my chances of success. I bear down on the targeted area within the hull which I know to connect to the hyperdrive, and, despite being screened by counterfire– shields dropped to about 5%– am able to score a series of heavily effective ion cannon hits with the Yama. Swooping around the horizontal plane of the gunship again to drop out of its effective line of fire, I engage the navicomputer to reconnect to the super-hyperlane. After all, if these guys can microjump the way they are, then that means that the gravity well must not be active right now. So I can get away, now. The only ship able to pursue me will be the third ship, which is so far behind that it cannot catch me now.
The navicomputer calculations are complete, and we enter into the usual pre-hyperspace routine without incident. The crippled gunship is moving about to take aim and fire, but by the time it can do so, we will have made the jump.
Or so I thought.
A long-range missile from the third ship appears on my sensors. I hadn't expected that! It turns out that they were trying to capture my ship, but after it became clear that I would get away, they decided that annihilation in revenge for what I did to their one gunship would be more appropriate; sending targeting information from the first ship to the third, they responded with an anti-capital ship weapon. Overkill for a fighter. Even with my shields at 100%, a direct hit would absolutely annihilate me.
I cannot evade, either– the jump routine is nearly complete, but it will not jump before the missile hits. Aborting the jump to return to manual control will not give me time to perform evasive manuevers. I am left with only one choice: I must stop the missile on my own. Force Barrier. It is my only choice.
Taking careful note of the missile trajectory, I gather the energies of the Force under my command. At response to my will, a Barrier is erected in the void of space between my ship and the missile that seeks to quench its existence– and mine. And I do so in time. Was there any question? I am a god, after all.
What I did not anticipate was the explosive yield of this thing. It detonates away from my ship, but the exploding matter is still ejected in force, and the Barrier shatters like a pane of glass. The energy of the event is like a fireball which expands in the vacuum and engulfs my ship temporarily– shields are gone, and the computer registers damage to the engines. The worst possible result!
But the jump to hyperspace is successful, and in a split second I am gone from the clutches of the pirates.
As space sweeps by at superlight speeds, I contemplate that it might have been better for me to allow them to capture me. It was my hubris to outrun them that led to this result (even though I got away). Had they captured me, I would surely have killed them all and remained unscathed myself.
We have resumed our original route, but the ship's computer says that we will not make it to Rattatak. A subroutine plans for us to stop for repairs in the Inner Rim. I am presented with the choice of three planets: Chazwa, Terrelia, or Adari. From the previews I am presented with, Terrelia is the one most like Rattatak; Chazwa is an ice planet, which is miserable, and Adari has forests, which is too much like Felucia. None of them will have a particular advantage in terms of repairs, since they are all along The Axis and therefore have good mercantile access. It is the Inner Rim, after all. Not like I'm stranded in Wild Space. This is nothing more than an annoyance.
So I am to make a pit stop in Terrelia. Let it be so quickly!
Terrelia is an arid, mountainous world. That much should be guessed from its proximity to the local star. The other part that ought to be guessed is how the local indigens have evolved to handle their terrain. Terrelian jango jumpers are highly athletic near-humans possessing unparalleled sprinting and jumping abilities. When offworld, they tend to use their superiority in this way to excel in sporting events or crime. On their homeworld, they have a society that is somewhat primitive in its approach to many things, but which is sufficiently advanced to be able to function in a space-travel Universe. Sort of like how the Wookiees are technologically more than proficient, but still choose to live in tree houses and still have Shadowlands manhood-proving rituals.
My arrival planetside was painless. Likewise with my discovery of a body shop that would be capable of handling the repairs. Did you know that I am actually quite rich? Well, Gannon left me quite a handful of credits from when he was ruler of Serenno, and being the ruler of Rattatak in Castle Ventress enabled me to put together a fair sum of my own. And this is the Inner Rim. I cannot emphasize enough how civilized a region it is. There is no question of whether the credit is accepted here or not.
I am walking down the main avenue of the capital city. One of the quirks of this physically-adept culture is that hovercraft and public transit are essentially non-existent for beings (cargo machines exist, however– but they are strictly cargo), and instead of elevators there are just staircases with larger-than-average distances between steps. Which, of course, the natives handle without any trouble at all. I am fairly athletic, too, though, so it only took me a little bit of time to get used to.
There are a lot of double-takes being thrown my way. I attribute it to the fact that I am an outsider– but it actually goes a little deeper than this. See, the Terrelians are blue-skinned. And I, being half-Icarii, have a faint green complexion. My eyes are also glossy black spheres– I like to say that I am a Chev, rather than admit blindness– and my clothes have the faint odor of sarlaac stomach acid. So to them, I look and smell like one of their kind that is deathly ill with some kind of awful disease by my color and scent. They realize in no time that I am an alien to them, but they also think I am dying.
The repairman at the body shop said it would take two days for the repairs. Apologetically. He said that there was a particular part that he needed to special-order. Fortunately, as soon as the cargo comes on-planet, no matter where on-planet, it will be delivered within two hours. They are a fast race, and they are proud of it. So he recommended me four different places to stay, and informed me of some entertainment (in the form of sporting events) and bade me good day.
Arriving at the first hotel that he recommended, I check for vacancy and obtain a room to stay. The receptionist asks if he could have someone come wash my clothes. At a nominal fee, of course. But I will take it. It is good for reducing the amount of public disgust at me. So while their hotel service comes and washes my apparel, I hop in the refresher inside my room to sanitize. It is comforting. And then, stepping out, I change into a set of Terrelian clothes that they have graciously left me at another nominal fee. Again, it is a good thing that I am rich. And then I head down the oversize stairs to the bar, and order myself a drink.
Sipping it, I contemplate this world. It has been a pleasant place, for sure. The climate reminds me so much of Rattatak. I want to be home, soon. I could easily convince myself that this is home, though. But I am not a god here.
I am not a god there yet, either. Surely there will be a surprise waiting for me– surely my absence has not gone unnoticed. The Tarisian Empire will have filled my role, if they even exist still. But to depose a lesser being is not a task that any god would deem too difficult, or even unwelcome. I will do so gladly, with great exercise of my power. While it is best to be conservative with how to use one's power, in a matter like this the display of power will serve to conquer more than just one being. I will gain– should I say regain?– an entire world with it.
I finish this drink and order another.
What about this world? I am already here, I could take it easily. A younger, wilder me would have killed every last being that gave me an odd look today. Of course, they would have realized it was me, but what can these mortals do against a god? Even their physical prowess is no match for the power of the Force that I wield.
I finish that drink and order another.
The power of the Force, huh...I wonder whether there are any here who can use it. And it turns out that I do have just the means of determining that. Force Sight...I can see the entire planet. And, having rested in the ship, having refreshed in the room, having relaxed with some alcohol, I can do just that. The world!
For a moment I have a moment of vertigo. My perspective shifts from me to the entire planet, would that not dizzy anyone? The faint auras of every Terrelian alive flicker like sparks across the surface of the planet. Much like Rattatak, the population is sparse here. I am glad; were this a planet like Coruscant, it would be a kriffing chore to sift through them all. As it is, it is merely a blasted chore to sift through them all. But I want to satisfy my own curiosity.
The incidence of pure mutation Forcefuls in the galaxy is, give or take, 0.00001%. One in ten million beings is able to sense the Force, if they have not had any ancestors able to do so. If someone anywhere in their lineage was able to sense the Force, that number jumps up to 0.0001%, or one in one hundred thousand. That is the number that applies to most Twi'leks, humans, and Zabraks. That is considered a high number. If someone's recent– two generations or so– lineage was able to sense the Force, then the number jumps all the way up to 1%. And there are some species that are always able to sense the Force, like the Miraluka and the Sith purebloods. Likewise, there are some species that are never able to sense the Force, like the Yuuzhan Vong, or that resist the mutations that enable the brain to sense the Force, like the Dashade. It is not an exact science; what I have just stated is merely the statistics.
As I sweep through the entire population of Terrelia, I find that the incidence of Forcefulness is relatively low. How can I tell them? Hah, it is easy! The aura of a Force sensitive, since I am detecting it through the Force, is comparably brighter than the aura of a non-sensitive. Every being has some connection to the Force (even if that connection is the absence of one, as is the case with the Vong). The Force flows, through you, through me, through the tree. Its currents change depending on what it touches. The life of a being is its aura, enabled by the Force. And the Force shines when it is presented with life. It shines brighter than the background. And that is what I have come to see. The auras of every being and every item around me. Among all the pale lights of this planet, there are a few that shine out brighter than the rest. One of these is mine, and it shines the brightest of all. But what do you expect? I am a god.
The Force is upon some of these Terrelians. I count...thirty-two. Thirty-two out of the entire planet. Not a single one of them has had training to use it– I would be able to tell from the aura. Of those, there is only one within a hundred kilometers of me.
So! Let's go see what he (or she) is doing.
I take a note of the position relative to me, and then I return my focus to my immediate vicinity to find that literally every being in the bar is staring at me. Well, I cannot say that I am surprised. After the effort expended to use Force Sight to survey the planet, I broke out into a sweat and was so immersed in the activity that I responded to absolutely no one around me. The bargoers were so concerned that I was dying (because of my skin color and perspiration) that they had alerted the hotel staff who had called for medical attention. I was delayed from finding the nearby Forceful because I had to subsequently explain that no, I am not sick, I am an alien; no, I am not dying, it is common for our species to perspire as a reaction to alcohol (well that is a lie, but the alternative was to say, "I was spying on your entire race" and that is a statement that would take a long time to explain fully) and no, I am not drunk, I am fine to walk out that door.
I eventually managed to get away by saying that I wanted to see the decathlon while I was here, and it was about to start. The mechanic had sure done me a favor by telling me about that. As it turns out, the guy I happen to be looking for was in the same direction that the crowd was headed. Am I surprised? Nope. Among a naturally athletic species, the likelihood that the Force will make its presence evident is highly favorable to physical prowess and enhancement.
I took my seat amongst the spectators, and to avoid suspicion, took the viewfinder that they use to track the athletes. Why, even the sprinting section of the decathlon takes them several kilometers away from the amphitheater. So screens are necessary. Like with podracing. The decathlon events in which they compete are, first of all, continuous and sequential. Which is insane, even to a Force user. They compete in running, swimming, longjumping (in which they jump over a series of gorges), pulling (in which a stone is fastened around their waists and they do a sprint with this added resistance), climbing (in which they climb a near-vertical mountain face), highjumping (in which they ascend a different mountain by jumping from platform to platform), rowing (in which they have a hoversled and use giant fanblade oars to propel it through the air), hammer toss (in which they run a race but have to throw a weight as far as they can each step of the way), rolling (in which they do continuous forward somersaults as a race), and for good measure one last section of running back to the finish. It is nauseating how much they do.
Sitting there in the audience, I watched the first thirty seconds of the overhyped race, then lost complete interest in favor of thinking of how I might be able to come face-to-face with the athlete– who, I confirmed, was the favored-to-win athlete, a woman named Lydia Pearce. So, if she wins, I will not have a chance to meet her. And while this makes for a good evaluation of her skill, there is more to it than that. You should know by now that I am always on the lookout for a weapon to add to my arsenal. It is through the relentless acquisition of power that I transcended my lesser status and became a god; it is through that selfsame power that I escaped from the sarlaac to prove it. And there is a great part of me that shivers with excitement when considering just how far a Forceling from this supreme species could go. There is the chance that I could persuade her to come with me, but that chance diminishes if she wins.
Therefore, it has become my mission to stop her from winning. And what are the tools at my disposal? I have my weapons, but I cannot use them in the open like this. I have the Force. But most of what I do can only be done at close-to-mid-range. By this time, the athletes are already far away from here, on a mountaintop after the climbing segment. Insane creatures.
On a mountaintop.
I remembered once, a long time ago, a lifetime away, when Ishmael became Lapay no Tal, when we first met on Theed. A mountainside from which a battalion of police snipers had been stationed to take us out. I, with the aid of his Force Drain to give me energy, had proven able to rip down the face of the mountain with Telekinesis.
I do not need to tear down the mountain. I need to tear down the athlete.
And I do not need to use the long-seeing range of Force Sight to do it. I have been given the very tool that I need to establish a visual connection with Lydia Pearce. The viewfinder that sits worthlessly in my lap. In fact, it is better this way– part of the reason I needed Ishamel's assistance was to assert my focus over such a long distance to maintain 'eye' contact with that mountainside.
I have her right in front of me with this device. And unlike the me of the past, I have developed my skill with Force Sight to where visual screens show me their displays instead of a blank screen. She is right in front of me. The only question is when I should apply my abilities to slow her. The answer I arrive at is...why not now?
They are highjumping, and she is far in the lead. I have to suppress my grin. Because she jumps...but her left foot remains anchored to the ground. I will give her credit– it was quite a strong jump. But the strongest jumper in the Universe cannot compete with the power of the Force. She falls flat and the audience yells out a collective, "OOOOOOOOH!" A split-second too late I put my lips into that motion. Inside my mind, however, there is nothing but laughter as second place passes her up as she recovers. Third place is hot on her heels, too.
They reach the hoversleds for rowing, and once more I exert my influence: to use Telekinesis to resist the motion of her oars. Oh, how can she go fast when the oars she uses are five times heavier than the ones her competitors have? Heh heh heh heh heh. And, as she makes it to the hammer toss, having slipped to seventh place, she finds that gravity is weighing heavier on her hammer. The trajectory is just not going as far as it should! Who could be behind that one?
Dead last. She is dead last as she comes out of the somersaults and enters the last one-kilometer sprint back to the finish. You read that line correctly– these monsters are expected run a full kilometer at a dead sprint, after all of these events, without tiring.
And she sprints, but she is so far behind that I know that there is no way she can win. I can feel her desperation from a kilometer away. I put down the viewscreen and revert to zooming in on her with my Force Sight to observe her more personally. To feel her desperation, and watch her celebrated debut end with a last-place finish.
That desperation of hers, though, was making her aura burn more brightly. Anyone with half a brain could guess what happens next: with that latent Force sensitivity, and the desperate straits that I have forced her into, her body and her brain directs the Force to strengthen her legs. To make them move faster. Tears are streaming from her eyes now at the shame, but she is moving quicker. The Force is responding to her emotional response, to her need. And her body is responding to the Force. She is running faster than she ever has before in her life, and she does not understand why. But she is passing the other runners now, and first place– which is a mere fifty meters from the finish– now appears to her unintentional execution of Force Speed to be standing still. She is going to pull off this unexpected come-from-behind last-place-to-first turaround. The audience is going wild, they can't even understand it, they can hardly even see her clearly she is moving so fast, even the race cameras aren't moving fast enough to catch up to her. She rounds the corner and is going to cross the finish line ahead of everyone else!
Well, she would if it were not for me. A mere twenty meters away, just as she was almost caught up to first place, I nudge her rising leg with Telekinesis just a few centimeters to the inside. That foot catches on her planted calf, and she trips. What had been the fastest any being has ever sprinted on Terrelia turns into the worst wipeout in the history of the decathlon. And with that, her last place finish, as well as any future of athletic competition, has been snatched from the open arms of this pitiable, sobbing mess of a girl on the athletic track. The entire audience realizes it. Inasmuch as she was sprinting faster than any other being, they all see her as supernaturally clumsy. And from there, I rise and leave the stands. As the awards are being presented to the athletes, I will likewise be taking my own prize from here.
I find her in the women's locker room long after everyone else has left the stadium. Tears still pour down her cheeks. I cannot blame her, right? It was a shoe-in for her to win, but now everything she has poured into her life here is over with this abysmal failure. She does not even notice me standing here.
"Lydia."
She stiffens at the sound of her name and looks up, and starts to see that a man is standing in front of her. Instinctively she wraps her towel tighter around her, not knowing the futility of modesty around such as me.
"W-wh-what? What do you w-want? Who ar-are y-you?"
Poor thing is unable to even talk properly. I notice that her skin is torn and burned because of the slide after her tumble at the end. Perhaps I overdid it. But such is not the concern of a god.
"My name is Lapay no Ryu. I have seen your performance today." She flinches at these words, but I ignore her reaction. "You did not quite do well enough to win." This, of course, catalyzes her to speak. Vehemently. No longer concerned with modesty or even who I am. She knows that she should have won, too. And she tells me so. "I-I! I was... I felt! There was something...h-holding me back!"
I hold up my palm, indicating that I am not done speaking. She catches her breath and sits back down. "You did not quite do well enough to win, but if you had won, your life would be over." This puzzles her, she tilts her head to the side as if she didn't hear me. "If you had won, your life would be over. You are capable of so much more than winning petty competitions like this on backwater worlds." She is still puzzled, of course, and a little insulted, but my words have her attention.
"You are special. There has never been another Terrelian like you." This is a lie, of course. There are precisely thirty-one other Terrelians just like her on the planet right now, and countless others in the history of the Universe. But let her continue to be puzzled at what I am saying. Let her think it odd that an alien would be talking to a loser like her in this odd situation.
"You are gifted. You showed it at the end, with your sprint...before you tripped." She flinches again, and I can tell that she is blushing a bit. So, she blames herself for that last one? That is good. "I am...not from around here. But I, too, am gifted. That is why I can tell you that you would have wasted your life if you had succeeded here today. Let the others have their victory, because they can amount to nothing more."
"B-but they are special, too!"
I shake my head, feigning pity. "No. They are not like you. In fact, they are as unlike to you as you are to me." She raised an eyebrow at this one, so I refrained from informing her that I am a god. Let that conversation happen some other time. "You are gifted, and I am gifted. The difference is, I have known that I am gifted for a very long time. I have trained to use all of my gifts. You have trained to use your body, which is not your only gift. I can see that your gifts are so much more– but you cannot."
She sat silent after this, pondering. Good.
"I will not make you come to me. But if you do, I am staying at the hotel around the corner from Ross's Body Shop. There is a ship there being repaired for me. It will leave tomorrow, and I with it. Whether you are there or not is not my concern; but if you are there, you will be taking your first step into a Universe far more vast than you could have possibly imagined." She made no reaction. And I did not press it– that was my pitch. That is all I will say to persuade her. I turn to leave. As I walk away, with Freedom sweeping dramatically behind me, I do turn my head to send her these last words over my shoulder.
"You realize what you have left if you stay here. I caution you to not waste your life away. I also suggest you dress yourself. In forty-five seconds, the custodian will be in here and wanting to clean up without an audience." Force Sight is useful to be able to see that that person is coming around the corner, after all. I went out the door which, true to my word, the custodian would enter forty-five seconds later. It is always nice to provide concrete evidence of my gifts when trying to convince someone that I am special.
Later that night, as I sat in the hotel bar enjoying my seventh drink of the day, Lydia Pearce walked in. She was dressed messily and was hiding her identity, but she looked around until she saw me and sat down. We drank until morning, and I consoled her as she continued to lament her fortunes with tears. Let her cry on my shoulder for now. There will be coming a time when she is the one who inflicts such suffering, not the one who suffers it.
And what was it that I had told Ryu? Everything you hold dear must be stripped from you. A god is always alone.
Even that night, as she drunkenly came back to my room, we were not 'together'. Even as she stripped down, even as we had sex that night, we were not 'together'. How can you consider a mortal to be company to a god? A mere flea before my power. And yet, a flea that I took interest in.
The morning came and Lydia had an awful hangover. I was already awake when she woke, and she had forgotten where she was. Without much reminding on my part, however, she recalled why she had come and what we had done. The sniffling from last night had left her, for which I was very grateful. She spent the day in my company again.
It was mostly silent between us, as she suffered the hangover and mulled over her shame. I did not press. It is not as if her company is of particular need to me. Well, I have been over that bit before, no need to rehash. But there came some times when she would ask questions.
"When did you learn that you had a gift?"
"My father told me so. He said that I have the same eyes as him."
She pulled an odd face and stared at my eyes. "...They look kind of featureless to me. Am I missing something?"
"Yes. He meant my expression was the same as his."
"Oh. Must be an figure of speech from offworld, huh?"
"That's partly true. By my expression, he also meant that I was seeking power."
"...People with the gift must be pretty weird, always talking about things and never actually everything that they mean."
"That's very true of my father."
"That's very true of his son."
"He wasn't my real father."
At that, Lydia rolled her eyes. "Of course he wasn't, why would it be that straightforward?"
I was constrained by the society to not speak of the Force very openly to her, and she was constrained by the society to remain in my company and to remain unidentified. I had built a good prison with just that little bit of interference. That evening, she spent the night with me, and we had sex again, this time without the influence of alcohol.
The next morning has come, and we are collecting the Yama from Ross, who asked if we had seen the decathlon yesterday (Lydia was again wearing shades to hide her face). As I paid him and thanked him for his assistance, she caught a glimpse of my account balance. Her eyes widened behind the shades.
She had the tact to save this question until we were inside the Yama, taking off. "Did you use the gift to make that much money?"
I gave a small smile. "No. I was the governor of a planet for some time, and the salary was...appreciable."
"Is that the planet we are headed to now?"
"That is correct. I have not been there for a long time, though. So I am no longer the governor."
"Where were you?"
"I was being digested by a sarlaac."
I could tell that she didn't believe me, but she just said, "Oh," and sat back in the copilot's seat.
There is a dire need for many, many conversations to be held once we arrive on Rattatak. Oh, indeed indeed there is. But for starting out, I guess we can begin with the basics.
"Lydia, there is a saying out there, which goes like this: 'Peace is a lie, there is only passion...'"
The Yama jumped to hyperspace, en route to Rattatak, as I began the long and arduous task of rebuilding this broken girl into a Sith worthy of accompanying a god. But, for anything to be rebuilt, it must have been broken. Take solace in that, Lydia.
"...then, if that's true, what is the difference between strength and power?"
"Subtle. Strength is the ability to do a certain thing. Power is the ability to do that which you put your hand to."
"And freedom?"
"To choose what you exercise your power for."
The lecture had gone over this point in several different incarnations already. But I never tire of explaining it. If I cannot explain something in a way that a child could understand, then I do not understand it well enough myself– and Lydia is far from a child herself. She catches on with time and patience on my behalf. What pleases me is that she is eager to learn. She recognizes that she knows nothing and seeks to put an end to that deficiency. Oh, but it will take so long to do that.
"Then, the gift is a part of my power. Sorry, not 'the gift', I mean, 'the Force'."
"Yes. It is a strength, which adds to your power. But it is also your most reliable servant, and as such, the Sith have said 'The Force shall set me free,' recognizing that without it they would be next to nothing."
"Like the athletes I left behind on Terrelia."
"You are correct."
Her training disciplines as an athlete had served her well. To understand passion and strength was trivial. Freedom is elementary. Power is what trips her up, but power is what trips so many up. There are few who understand it in a meaningful way. But to understand it, you must experience it, and there are precious few who ever come to that place anyway. It is enough to have a working vocabulary of it so that you may begin your training in the right mindset. And on this long trip to Rattatak, there is little other training that we can do.
"Tell me again about Vaapad."
"Vaapad was a lost art of lightsaber combat used by a handful of members of the Jedi Order at the time of the Republic. When my colleagues and I attempted to rediscover it, we went through a hellish period of time, cooped up with each other, in order to fill in the gaps through continuous study and fighting. Accounts of the contemporary users describe a 'superconducting loop' and a 'flurry of attacks too many to count'. It does not make a lot of sense, I will grant that. But we touched it, by the end. We found the tip of the iceberg. As you train with me, we will work on Vaapad together. But you cannot begin with it. You will start with No Form, because it is only through the rigorious exposure to combat that the purpose of the lightsaber forms eventually becomes clear. To rely on the words without the practice to back it up is to commit yourself to death."
"And how is it that you came to use Force Sight?"
"I was on the space station Ison with a monster named Solus. He was equipped with active camouflage and snuck up in front of me– I could not sense him because he had been severed from the Force by his creator. And his gauntlets had two sharp claws that extended out, like so. They sliced through my eyes like little more than a pair of grapes. Thrown into darkness, I was forced to constantly practice Force Sight– which I had learned before then but not used extensively– in order to survive from that point on."
"What does it look like?"
"I will show you."
The way to show her is to use Battle Meditation with Force Sight. As I focus on her mind, and supporting her aura with that of my own, the attributes of Force Sight will find their way to her as well. And she, she opens her mind to me at the urging of my spirit. The Battle Meditation allows a link to form between her mind and mine. The Force Sight that I have is unlocked to her, and she sees now what I see. She sees herself sitting beside me, with her faint orange aura. With my shining silver aura, far more intensely brilliant than hers. She sees the grays-and-blacks of the background noise of the Force. She sees the faint tints of color on the ship, the stronger tints of silver on my weapons, and the vastness of hyperspace, with the occasional blur of color as we pass by a star system. And I, in turn, can see the world from her eyes. I see the mesmerizing blue swirl of hyperspace as we travel, the boring pewter dashboard smattered with a few blinking lights and chrome levers. The black trenchcoat of Freedom that drapes my shoulders beside her, the pale green of my skin and the pale blue of hers. The short hair and black glossy eyes adorning my head. And then she recoils, because this world of Force Sight is hard to accept, and harder still when trying to see between your eyes and those of another at the same time. The link closes and she shakes her head. I suppose she was a bit overwhelmed, I didn't tell her what to expect.
But I know that she has been struck by the difference between her aura and mine. And that is why I elected for this demonstration: there is no better way to understand the Force than to see it at work. And I have seen the world in true color, which is a nice little event on its own.
"Don't...don't do that again."
"We will practice that. You will find it useful sometime."
"Why were you so much brighter than me?"
"You have hardly begun to peer into this world. And I am a god in it. That is the difference between you and me."
"Will I be able to become a goddess?"
"That is entirely up to you."
She fell silent again, but I know what she is thinking. In that moment of Battle Meditation, more than eyesight was shared between us.
The remainder of the journey to Rattatak is uneventful, with the majority of Lydia's questions being simple, with straightforward answers required on my part. To her chagrin, she recognizes a high degree of detachment on my part. Little does she know that this has just begun. And this is just the thing, when it comes to teaching someone of the things that you've known for the majority of your life. You forget what is not common knowledge until such a moment as this, and it becomes almost difficult to describe things that are well-accepted in a way that can be understood. It is to her credit that she is ambitious and eager to learn– eager to please, I note (she'll be sorely disappointed if she expects praise from me, though). It is largely because she understands the separation in our respective levels, in a very real way, after the Shared Sight. She wants to close that gap. I suspect it is a relic of her former competitive life. Yet, it occurs to me that she still does not quite understand how far she has to go, if she ever wants to accomplish that. Once we reach Rattatak, once we are not cramped inside this cockpit, I will assist to demonstrate it. After all, what good is a tool if it cannot perform the tasks one would like to use it for?
The Yama dropped from hyperspace at that moment, and the Rattatak system came into view littered with a large amount of debris which was almost certainly not there at my departure. I had been gone for a few years, sure, but...was this the wreckage of my fleet? How could this have happened?
Lydia, who (per my instructions) has been trying to pay attention to the impressions that she receives from the Force, leans forward in her chair, feeling the sudden shock that I emit. Surprise is one of those things which, by definition, is difficult to contain your reaction to. She looks from me to the debris field, and then makes a note.
"...it didn't look like this the last time you saw it, huh?"
I tilt my head forward into a single nod, and then return manual control in order that I might maneuver us safely through to the planet. Lydia sends a routine transmission code requesting clearance to land. However, no response is returned, positive or negative. Concluding that it may be that the debris is obscuring reception, either on our end or theirs, she mentions to me that she'll try again once we get closer. I nod again, and do my best to hasten our approach. Scanners reveal no powered systems in our vicinity, so at least I know we won't be fired on.
As we clear the last vestiges of the flotsam, Lydia once more sends the comm beacon towards the planet on open channels, and we await a response. Minutes pass in silence between us, as I consider the planet before me. Since I happen to find the situation quite odd, I recline in my chair and place my forefinger to my temple. A meditative posture, which I am adopting right now because I intend to survey the entire planet with Force Sight.
I have scarce begun to examine it when the inevitable conclusion reaches me: there is nothing left alive on the surface.
This knowledge sinks in, and Lydia gasps softly and turns her head sharply my way, as she feels the darkness of my aura become, for a brief period, quite substantial in this place. I frown, narrow my eyebrows, but say nothing. She cannot help but ask.
"What's wrong?"
"There is nothing there. Not a single being is alive on the surface."
She did not know what to say. But how could she? She didn't know my endgame, here (to establish my deity among this people). She didn't know the Rattataki, nor the relationship I had had with some of them. She did know that I used to govern here, but the extent to which any governor favors his people varies. But she does not know the feeling, the feeling of one who has established his godhood, only to find that an event beyond the scope of his control would take away this intended result.
And how frustrating it is! That I, who has achieved freedom, would not be able to do as I please! In the end I am still a slave to fate!
That is what it means to be a god, after all. I am the god of my own destiny, and sought to extend that range to the god of the destinies of many other beings. This is my freedom, as spoken of in the Sith Code. How weak am I, to have it snatched from me like so!
Still, we will at least proceed to land on the planet. We will discover what has transpired. I lean forward and accelerate the ship into atmosphere and prepare for the landing sequence at coordinates which are very familiar in my memory.
The ruins of Castle Ventress have long ago ceased to smolder. Their char is cold, their walls broken, and their ceilings no longer exist to provide shelter from the elements. As the Yama swoops overhead, I can still see ever-so-faintly traces of aura. This was the site of a great battle, I can see that much. The landing platforms have not remained intact after the conflict or time spent away from maintenance, so I am forced to set the gunship down in the now-exposed Great Hall, whose roof has been torn down and whose decorations have been completely ransacked. The walkway ramp extends from the rear of the ship, and with a hiss the door leading outside opens; I rise, followed in short order by Lydia, and sweep wordlessly from the cockpit out into the atmosphere which I had longed for all these many months.
What struck me the most, I think, was the absence of corporeal remains. On the other hand, there was an absolute mountain of droids. It was at this that I realized what must have happened. Not long before I came to power on Rattatak, there had been a cataclysm which was followed by a major droid uprising in the Universe. Rattatak does not own many of these machines, but they had migrated to a number of worlds on the Outer Rim in order to lay the roots for a large-scale offensive as they steadily moved towards the Core. Rattatak was designated a military foundry for these droids, and although the revolution was toppled before it could really gain momentum, the groundwork had already been laid and the population of the planet had suffered as a result. I suspect that there had been a reemergence of this event, and that droids had taken to the supposedly abandoned facilities in my absence. Droid codename Starkiller was one of the orchestrators of the original revolution, and as a virus-type program, it is more than possible that he survived the post-revolution purge and laid low until his time was right.
The absence of corpses indicates that either the droids were using disintegration technology, or that the Rattataki had fled the planet. Most of the tribes are at least partially nomadic, and used to having to leave their homes due to warfare changing the tenuous territory, so either event is possible. No matter what, they are beyond my reach now. Even if I could find them and persuade them to return, the chance to impose myself as a deity over a prospering people is gone now. Like so many things before, this has been stripped from me.
Such as befits a god. Possession is fleeting.
I bend down to examine the weaponry possessed by one of the droids. An odd-looking scope-type weapon of unfamiliar make to me. Wrestling it from its attachment to the wrist, I hold it up. There is no chamber for gas inside; rather, it looks more like a lightsaber crystal. A long, rodlike lightsaber crystal inside. Curious to see the mechanism, I follow the wires to their sources until I can identify the activation coil. Turning the weapon on, a beam of focused light shoots out– quite like a lightsaber! These droids used unusual technology. The beam remains coherent all the way to the far side wall, some thirty meters away, and I note that the weapon is beginning to burn through the stone. How strange!
Actually, this is a very arcane technology. A heatbeam. It was used before in a droid uprising, centuries ago. It is a laser– a solid-state, continuous-wave laser. It was considered obsolete in the face of blaster technology, due to the higher damage output and greater reliability of the gas plasma excitation of blasters. The crystal gain medium of these lasers is susceptible to damage over time due to the need for higher energy (which is because of the continuous wave operation), and will gradually start to burn out. But, these can be replaced– if I can find others in good working condition, which, by the looks of the lifeless droid shells around here, I certainly can. A weapon like this can be of great use for the unpredictability of it. And–
"Lydia, take this. Light it up, and stand to the side." I hand her one half of Trogdor. She nods, and holds it while she fumbles to figure out the activation mechanism. About thirty seconds go by before I grow tired of waiting and use Telekinesis to spring the central red blade at the end to life. Lydia frowns and stands still after I ignite it; while I have told her what a lightsaber is, I think this is her first time seeing one in person.
Not that she has time to be amazed. I hold the laser at shoulder-height, and fire it right at the blade. The result is precisely as I expected.
The heatbeam is a beam of light; it passes through the energetically-contained plasma of the lightsaber blade with only a slight modulation to it. This weapon cannot be blocked by a lightsaber, unlike a blaster bolt. Are we surprised, though? A blaster bolt is a magnetically-contained bit of plasmified gas. So, first of all, it's not purely energy, but has ion-particle character to it; secondly, the magnetic fields repel each other. A laser beam is a stream of photons, which is to say, best represented by a series of tiny electric fields. It interacts with the magnetic field of the lightsaber only a little. Actually, it has more interaction with the molecules in the saber blade than it does the containing field, and even then only a fraction of the photons will even hit a molecule to have a scattering event take place. Remember, the lightsaber is for all intents and purposes weightless: the blade density is very low. The majority of the laser beam passes straight through. This is quite a dangerous device. In fact, it would appear to me that the only things capable of avoiding damage are optically active media, or solid objects that also resist energy. Dense objects or highly conductive materials would also be likely to take a lot of time to sustain damage from the relatively low-powered beam.
I glance at Lydia, who is back to staring at the red blades of Trogdor. "Give it back." With a disappointed murmur, she hands the lightsaber back to me. I trade it with her for the heatbeam. "Take this. Keep it safe. We're going to find some replacement crystals for it here, then you can keep it as a weapon. It's actually quite powerful, if you use it correctly."
By 'powerful', I mean power in the sense that I had explained to her earlier. I am not sure whether or not she understood the nuance there or not.
"I thought that I would be getting a lightsaber for a weapon, though!"
"In due time. You are not nearly ready enough yet. In due time, you will make your own. But you have no idea yet how to fight, yes? Why should you care for a weapon when you cannot even stand properly on your own two feet?"
"So will you teach me to fight?"
I raised my eyebrows. This is the first time she has answered a rhetorical question in such an insubordinate way.
"...Very well. Drop the heatbeam. This will be your first lesson in unarmed combat. Assuming that your opponent has managed to strip you of your weapons, can you survive? We will answer that question right away, since you are eager."
She nods, and assumes the sort of ready-position that you would expect from an athlete. Knees flexed, elbows bent, hands held at about shoulder-height in a pair of fists in front of her. A slight bounce in her movements, as if she is ready to spring forward at any time.
I smile to myself. It is about time to drop the ruse, about time to introduce the ruthless reality to her. I shed my duster coat and begin walking towards her.
In response she initially leans back, wary of my approach– but I walk slowly, so gently, that it puzzles her. Eight meters, seven meters, six meters, five. No guard stance whatsoever. Unsure of what I am doing, Lydia lets her guard drop a fraction of a centimeter. Which, if you know me at all, is exactly what I have been waiting for.
Force Reflex.
In the time it takes you to close your eyelids when you blink, I am in front of her, crouched down so that my head is beneath her chin, and then I am rising. My right elbow juts upward and catches underneath her chin with a sharp crack before she has had time to brace for the impact. It's a shot that will rattle her brain. Her head flips backward and her knees straighten up a bit. I see it clearly with my Force Sight. Reflexively, she is lessening the force of the hit. Clever girl. But it isn't over yet.
My left hand, all of a sudden balled into a fist, sweeps forward. Having risen and struck with my right arm put me in perfect position to deliver this punch to her diaphragm. Ohh, I can see that organ, too. My aim is impeccable thanks to this blindness. I see the impact ripple through muscle, see the breath forcibly exhaled. Force Reflex, which gave me the edge in speed to close the gap, also gives me the time to observe each and every effect of my actions. She stumbles back, doubling over– and I seize this opportunity to step forward again, and bring my upraised right arm chopping down near the base of her neck, right between the shoulder blades. Openings everywhere.
I relinquish Force Reflex and walk away as she tumbles facefirst to the ground, bending down to pick up Freedom and drape it around my shoulders once more. Then I turn my attention back to the oh-so-damaged Lydia. To her credit, she is still conscious. But to her discredit, she is now prone, facedown, and spasming slightly; still trying to wrap her head around how she got hit so quickly and still feeling the impacts. I walk back over to her as she lays there and place my foot heavily on the back of her neck.
"The answer is, 'you cannot survive.'"
She is starting to have difficulty breathing. She cannot defend herself, her arms are too weak right now from lack of oxygen (both from the hit earlier and the suffocation right now). She cannot get free, the weight is too much. She can hardly even struggle as her life is starting to be choked out.
"You have great potential. But you are nothing until you become something else. The transformation will take time and patience."
She wants to scream, but her mouth is trapped against the floor, muffling her effort. I press down harder.
"Rush, and you will be the very thing that undoes you."
I release, and she rolls over immediately, gasping for breath. Tears start to stream from the corners of her eyes and I speak to her panting, pathetic self.
"Do not forget your place, or the distance that separates you from me."
Every moment is a lesson to be learned. And as she lay there, she nodded. She understood. Understood that death was a very real danger, but also that I would not execute her needlessly. Understood that she was to approach me with caution– for I am not a tame god– but that I would respond in a way that I knew she needed. Understood that there would come a time for everything. Understood that, to me, she was little more than a speck. Understood that I was not fair– attacking her by making use of all of my skills, even when unarmed– but also that the Universe would not wait for her to be ready. As she lay there, thinking about what had happened in a flash, her loyalty was being forged to me. She understood that there was no one like me in this entire Universe.
I sat on a broken bench and waited for her to rise. It happened presently, but of course she was in no rush to do so. And I was patient. When she made her way falteringly over towards me, I stood up to full height, a head-and-a-half taller than she, and stared down at her, contemplating the words to use. "The first thing I will teach you is how to manipulate the Force. As soon as you can perform at a basic level with that, I will show you how to do what I just did. So for now, let us head into shelter and prepare. We will be here for a long time."
She nodded wordlessly, and bowed her head before me. I, in turn, led us down the dark winding staircase into the dungeons of Castle Ventress.
Torchlight illuminated the stone corridor for Lydia, but I had no need of such light sources. As we approached the old cells, we saw for the first time the skeletal remains of some organics playing partner to the droid bodies around here. Surveying the place, I found a cot that seemed to have weathered the years reasonably well and selected this to be our temporary abode. And then, after cleaning it slightly, I led her back out into the main hallway of the dungeon and stood about ten feet away from her.
"I showed you the world from my perspective. You saw your aura beside mine. That aura is the Force flowing through you. It is a tool at your disposal, if only you would learn how to manipulate it to do your bidding. Inside your body and outside it, the Force can accomplish a great many things. But you must become very familiar with the mental discipline through which to manipulate it. You will need to know it just as well as you know your own body, because you will need to use it just like that. To use it in the heat of combat cannot be done without supreme practice."
She nodded. I decided that further words would just wind up being a circular conversation, and moreover, the better choice is for her to be able to practice as soon as possible. Perhaps I owe her that for the harsh treatment earlier. I grin at the thought, and then hold out my hand. "Do you see anything?"
She shook her head. "No, what should I be seeing?" In response, I stretch out my mind to touch hers again with Battle Meditation in order that she can see with my Shared Sight. As she gains my line of sight, she sees the hand from my perspective: and she sees that I have done a neat little trick with my aura. The Force surrounds my palm at my beckoning, and has swelled up within it, and I have formed it into a small hexagon– a small Force Barrier. "You are going to make your aura fill your hand into the shape of a hexagon, using only your mind."
Her eyebrows rose. "How? I don't know anything about that!"
My response was sharp. "Using your mind, that is how. Use this Sight that I am giving you! Experiment, figure out what works for you. Will yourself to be stronger, will the Force to do what you tell it to. You have managed to do it before by accident, now you will work until you can do it on purpose." I sat down. "I will let you keep using this Sight until you have figured it out. But you may not sit until you do. Experiment away." This would be a good training exercise for both myself and her. I would be practicing the Battle Meditation technique and Shared Sight effect, and she would be making her way through step one of the basics. No one loses.
Hours passed. Sweat was pouring from her now, as her arm was getting quite tired of being extended at the shoulder. And I was glistening, too; I had taken off Freedom, it got too warm for me to wear. Forcing my aura to surround and empower her mind was taking a bit of a toll.on even me. Her frustration had peaked about thirty minutes ago, and I could tell through the mental link between us that she wanted to stop very, very badly. In response I reminded her that patience was direly necessary. But, I must revise my previous statement: we both lose at this game. This is pure torture.
She has so far succeeded at doing absolutely nothing. Sometimes her aura glows a little bit brighter than before, sometimes it dims. She is absolutely a beginner at this in every sense of the word.
"...are you even trying? Perhaps I should have left you on Terrelia." It was a petty provocation, a lame tease, but she bit the bait. Even though she did not say a word, her anger burned. All that frustration from the day had swollen, and the dam in her mind was about to burst with it. 'Remember the Code,' I want to tell her. Passion leads to strength. She is going to get it– an emotional response is one of the easiest ways to command the Force to your will– but I simply need to poke it a little bit further. "Or maybe I should have looked a little bit harder. I shouldn't have expected a second-rate racer who couldn't even keep her feet straight to be able to handle something this simple."
"AAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAAA!" And, at long last, there we go! With a desperate wail, she let everything go and thrust her arms up to the sky with clenched fists, fell to her knees and threw her head back, and saw from my perspective her aura swell brightly in response, growing intenser and spilling out of her body in ebbs and flows for a moment there. As she grew silent and looked at her own hands, seeing them both from her own perspective and from mine (as if looking at a real-time movie of herself), she captured the feeling.
We are going to have to work on letting go of that easy provocation, however. It is beneficial to keep yourself the only master of your emotions.
"Now, do what I have told you to." With earnest I speak these words. I am as ready as she is to stop this exercise.
She looks down at her open palm, and with a moment of hard concentration in which she recalled the feelings of a moment ago, I see the Force in that hand swell in response. Good, this is what I am after! It starts to build up in that palm...but before she can make it take shape, her focus has been lost and it recedes back into her once again.
That is enough. I sever the link and revert fully to my own mind; rising, I walk over towards her. "What went wrong?"
She shook her head and wiped the sweat away. "When I saw that it was going to be successful, I realized...I forgot which shape I was supposed to form it into."
"...A hexagon."
"Oh. So, then–"
"Do it again, but this time do it without my Sight."
"It was kind of distracting, I'll be better off without it anyways."
I shake my head. Distracting? It is the single most useful way to identify how the Force is responding to your mental urges. Many, many people can feel it; but it is quite another thing to actually see it at work. At any rate, she sets about to perform the task after getting a drink of water. I sit down and hydrate, too. Watching carefully. Despite what she would lead me to believe, she did not quite have the control needed to make the shape right away. She came close several times, but without the Shared Sight to confirm, was forced to resort to asking me which shape she had made. What a proof that she did not quite have the sensitivity right! After another forty-five minutes of work, she gave in and asked to receive my sight once again. After that, it was only ten minutes until she got it right.
"Excellent."
"I did excellent?"
"No, it is excellent that we finally get to move on to something else." The start of an eager smile on her face immediately became a disappointed frown. "This next one will be your last exercise for today. However, every morning for the next month you are to do this as soon as you wake up. Watch me first, and then do it yourself."
We Shared Sight once again. She observed as I concentrated deeply, but relaxedly– the way a person feels when he is doing a stretching exercise. The aura from my body began to shift at my command, first to my left hand. She saw the signature from my other limbs dim to just a little bit brighter than background, while by comparison the aura in my left hand grew as bright as a beacon. Then I released: the left hand dimmed, the aura flowed back into the rest of my body, and I repeated the action for my right hand, then my left foot, then my right foot, then my torso, then my head. All in all, it takes me a full five minutes to go through the routine. "Focus the Force into each part of your body in sequence. This requires you to squeeze it out of all the other parts at the same time as you draw it towards the target limb. Begin."
It took Lydia twenty-three minutes to get the motion of the Force correct for her right arm alone. Even then, it was not smooth, and it was not a relaxed sort of action. However, it is progress. She can do it, I will force her to get better at it through practice.
However, in the meantime, there is work still for me– us, I suppose, I can include her in this too– to do. "Do it three more times, Lydia, and then you can take a break. There are refreshers used by the former guards through that door-" I pointed appropriately "-and that is what I am doing now. When you're finished, go ahead and clean up. I'll be heading back to the ship to grab supplies and port them in here. We will eat, and then we will go harvest replacement crystals for the heatbeam from the droids."
As I bathed myself, I thought back with fondness to the time long ago when I studied Telekinesis under Lord Brijus. Back then, I was still wet behind the ears, much like Lydia is now. I thought that I would become something completely different than what I have now. So it can't be left up to Lydia to decide how she wants to learn to use the Force. Neither should it be a decision I should make for her. Rather, there is some subtle combination of natural instinct and personal synergy that tells you how you are best suited to command the Force. Darth Bane thought that a person could be skilled in mostly one particular area of the Force– be it illusions, elemental power, or mastery of the body, to name a few– but I think that he was far too limited in his approach to the question. It does turn out that Darth Bane was a very closed-minded individual, you know. No, there's a way to use the Force that feels perfectly natural to each person. That is what they ought to do.
And now that I think back to it, Lydia had instinctively performed a sprint with Force Speed. Therefore, I decide that starting with that power is not a bad idea.
I swapped out of the refresher to let her in while I went back to the ship and collected our supplies, bringing them back to our cell and setting up a few electronic devices so that we could have some thermal power after night fell. When she made it out of her shower, we sat back on the cell cot and prepared some storage cases to handle the delicate optics of the heatbeams. Then we headed up to scour through the premises of Castle Ventress for any of the intact weapons from which we could bolster our armament. Yes– she and I will both have a heatbeam. The heatbeam, for me, will be mounted where the scope of Crisis used to be (I have no need for a scope, remember). Crisis will appreciate the boost in firepower.
We split up, and I take the opportunity to visit my old quarters. As I step through the open frame, nostalgia once again sweeps over me. My fingers trace lightly over the furnishings...just as I had left it. So the Tarisian Empire did not replace me, after all. The datapad containing the terms of the treaty I had made with the Ssi-Ruuvi occupation on the planet was still on the desk, as well as a file containing the identities of the Bounty Hunters' Guild members. As I gazed fondly over the room, thinking back to those halcyon days, an artifact caught my sight, nestled within a compartment of the desk. Having forgotten the combination, I resorted to slicing through the frame with Trogdor. There, in the interior, was a metal mask.
Strange...I have no memory of this thing.
I pick it up and gaze at it carefully. There was a time, not so long ago, when I was very accomplished at Sith Alchemy. My experiences with that gradually gave me the skill or perhaps the better word is familiarity to identify the composition of a material, just like one can usually tell at a glance the difference between aluminium and steel. Only, with Force Sight, I have a bit more insight into the details. I can tell its properties very well, if I study it. (This I call Force Determination) The exterior is a lightweight alloy of carvanium and carbonized lommite with substantial cortosis character for energy resistance and reflective properties; streaks of zersium and purple cubirian appear on the surface for, it seems, decoration. There are no eye sockets, interestingly. Two prongs extend like horns from the forehead, about seven centimeters each; they share the same composition with the surface and end in needle-sharp points. But, most curiously, as I look beyond the surface, it becomes clear that the alloy is merely a coating, some fifty microns thick or so. Below the surface of the mask is an amorphous vonium-mythra-borosilicate alloy; highly porous, it has a near-glass structure. It seems that this inner layer is meant to absorb and dampen impacts– given the prongs on the mask and the energy-resistant coating, this was probably a combat-ready faceguard. There is a thoughtful inclusion of a vocoder and a system of rebreathers, too, so this mask may have come in handy for emergencies. It is this inside portion of the mask is what intrigues me and puzzles me the most, however. There is no strap with which to latch the mask onto one's head; instead, there is a series of six small drills which, I guess, bore into the bearer's skull! Two near the temple, two at the cheekbone, two at the lower jaw...how painful! There is no ostensible power system for the drills, so I guess that they are manual. Additionally, there is a velvety texture on the inside of some chemisorbed substrate, which I have never seen before. The scaffold onto which it is adsorbed is a typical poly-oxo silicate, so this was probably a chemical that was applied post-forging of the mask.
I conclude that this mask was definitely made with Sith Alchemy. And, as I finish the careful Determination of the complex item, I spy a feature that confirms that assignment: my own Mark of Lapay.
I made this mask.
The fingers of my left hand slowly creep up my face, to feel across the skin and press on the bone where there must be holes in my skull, if this mask was indeed mine, and if I indeed wore it. I am fixated by it. When did I make it? Was I asleep? Was I dreaming? Why did I forget it? Why did I leave it here?
I hesitate. Then, ever so slowly, I turn the mask around. I bring it slowly up to my face.
As the skin on my face touches the mask, a shiver of goosebumps runs down my neck and there is a crawling sensation that seizes me immediately. And then burning! The chemical on the inside is a toxin that irritates the skin aggressively! I pull it back from my face–only to find that I cannot! Because with a terrible whine, the drills activate and stab into my skin.
I cannot help but yell. Shock and pain. And then they start to turn. I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong.
They bore new holes into my skull, over the ones that either closed up or never existed, threading themselves and locking into place. A sickening aching pain washes over me, starting in the face and then lodging deep within my gut. And at that moment, it all comes back to me.
The ritual. With Dark Lord Sephious. The auction on Sernpidal with the Bloodrage Pirates. The forging of this mask from the raw materials.
Her name. Devient. And her voice.
"Rryyyyyuuu! The prodigal son has returned to his mother at lassst. I knew that you were still alive, and out there somewhere. I knew you would come back to meeee. I. Missed. You!"
"Liar."
"Whaaaat's this? Yyyyyou think I don't like youuu? Ryyyyyuuu, my darling, do you not remember? Love is pain."
"Pain is a terrible way to show love."
"Isn't that what youuuuuu did to your newww girl earlier? Love is paaaaiiiiin."
"I do not love her."
"Whatever you sayyyyy. Whatever you say is law, now, riiiiiiiiight? Lapay no Ryyyyyuuu, the unparalleled god in this Universe. AM I wrong? Nooo, I am not . You think youuu are a god now. A god! And that makes me the mother of a god, oh, I am so proud!"
"How can you call yourself my mother? I made you, not the other way around."
A sharp wave of pain that stood out from the rest was the response that I got from that retort.
"Wrong! You have forgotten and you are wroooong! Ryu, who was it who showed you your true strength? Who was it who taught you how to conserve your power? Who was it who showed you your weapons' true forms? Who was it who is responsible for you to have survived until now? The answer is ME! I am your mother, Ryu, do not question me!"
I looked out of the mask. And the world was in natural color, which was strange because of the lack of eye holes. And eyes. And as I glance around the room, I see those which she was talking about. Trogdor, the dragon-man, bows as make eye contact. His strong arm flexes and he grins. I have needed him as much as he has needed me, and we both know it. Hanging from the ceiling, an enormous jet-black bat spreads its wings and lets out a terrible, ear-splitting shriek. Crisis, who has never let me down. Standing behind me, shoulder-to-shoulder with me, at my back. Freedom. Supporting me, often silently, whose eyes I have never looked into as he always wears shades (and a bandanna, which I have pleaded with him to lose but he always just smiles and shakes his head no). He flashes me a thumbs-up. I gaze upon them all, and with feelings of great bravado I ask aloud: "What then, with all of you here, do I lack? Nothing, nothing!" And they all smile, and cheer in their own respective ways.
But Devient has a different idea in mind. She beckons me to turn my attention beyond the room. And the good humor into which I had found myself lapsing drips from my composure like saliva falling from the corners of a glutton's mouth as his meal is coming to an end. Outside the doorway is a little girl with shoulder-length brown hair and bloodstains on her white shirt. "Why did you kill me, Ryu?"
"Oh...oh, Soar...I, I didn't...I didn't want to..."
"I miss you, Ryu." I cannot lie to her. She sees through me, with those pure childlike eyes. Those dead eyes. She knows that I had no use for her, that I do not miss her now. Why is it that the tears that form inside those shining gemstones are so much more moving to me than those shed by Lydia? Beside her is a flying shark, whose corpse has been partially cannibalized and through which bones are widely exposed, open to the air. This is Saerus, whom I never completed and subsequently left to die as well. A predator who was declawed and now cannot even eke out his own existence properly. Beyond them both, far in the distance, a giant serpent with four arms and no name: the sword I was given by Gannon. Its skull is crushed. I had given it in turn to Dice, did this mean that she had allowed it to perish? Or had it gotten swept into space with the collapse of the station Ison?
The macabre sight befalls me and I turn back to the room. Solemnity has fallen over my comrades. Devient is the one who does the tragic blessing of breaking the silence. "A god is always alone, Ryu. Do not mourn what you left behind, but do not forget it, either."
And I think I understand now why I had left Devient in that desk. I pity any being who puts this abomination on his face.
"...will you let me go?"
"Ryyyyuuuu, don't you rememmmber? You neverrr need to asssssk, I always let you gooooo when you want. Go onnnnn, go back to her. What's thissss one's name going to be, anyways?"
"She will decide for herself, when the time comes."
"I see. Gooodbyyyye, Ryuuuuuuu~~"
And, like stepping from the inside of a boiler room straight out onto the snowy terrain of Hoth, the cold cold air of Castle Ventress rushes between me and the skin of Devient as I remove the mask, and the drills tweak around and retract from my bones; blood seeps from the six new punctures in my face, but this I do not mind. This pain is nothing compared to having the mask on. And as my Force Sight comes back into focus at full force, I remember why it was that I sought this mask which does nothing but create pain and hallucinations. Devient was right: to conserve my power. Subjecting myself to this ultimate pain, I fight at full capacity until I have to take it off. Then, removing it, I continue to fight at full capacity. The difference between the power I can utilize while I have it on versus while I have it off is like night and day.
Oh, and I recall that I once stabbed Johun Starfield's ass with the horns. Impaled that fellow right in the taint. I remember that clearly, now. ...Did I ever wash it off afterwards?
After removing the mask, I stashed it inside one of the many pockets which line Freedom. Turning from the room, I returned to the task of gathering the laser crystal rods and collected a neat stack. Rejoining Lydia, we placed them in a padded case so that they would remain in good condition, and then declared the activities to be a complete day and laid ourselves down for sleep.
When I woke up in the morning, Lydia was still asleep. I gazed at her for some time. Does it make me a monster, that I only see her in terms of her usefulness? Or would you rather say that Sith are monsters? Although there are many Sith who love and form attachments. I think there are more Jedi who do that, too, than would be readily admitted by their respective Orders. Or perhaps the word we really want to use is the one that I have been throwing around for a while: a 'monster' is something that is not human, and a god is not human, so we can say there is at least something in common there.
I reach out my left hand and trace a finger down her cheek. She murmurs softly in response, still fast asleep. I drag that index finger lightly down and around her jaw, pressing it ever so feather-lightly onto the chin which I struck yesterday. There is a bruise that formed there, I can see and feel the swelling. This brings up the interesting question of how a bruise looks, color-wise, on a being with blue skin.
I shake my head and rise from the bed. With her still asleep, I have little else to do than my own training; seeing as she is in excellent athletic condition, I think it might be beneficial for me to start a new regime that focuses on getting my body into better physical condition. I am no slouch, but the Terrelians...Best way to start fixing that is by distance running, I guess.
That is how I found myself under the dim daybreak sky of Rattatak, orange-hued by the system's sun rising over the rocky horizon and cooled by a gentle, powder-dry breeze sweeping in from the southwest. Running, running, sweating. But she would not find this troublesome. In fact, for as far as I have run, she probably could have gone at triple this speed.
So can I. I can go at least triple this speed, too, if I use Force Reflex. But it wouldn't benefit my training at all. And that, that is where we come to a nice academic question. What is the difference between Force Reflex and Force Speed? They accomplish...the same thing. Precisely the same effect. But they are two sides of the same coin, the approach is different. In the one case, the practitioner calls on the Force to empower his muscles and make them supersede their usual performance. In the other case, the practitioner calls on the Force to enhance his mind, and slow down the world around him. With Force Speed, his reflexes catch up to his new velocity. With Force Reflex, his muscles are still operating at their 'usual' pace; it is time around him that has lost ground.
It is so strange how two distinct goals, two different approaches, can make the same result come about with the Force. If you think about it, though, I guess it isn't so surprising. I suppose you would find the same thing when examining the parallels between the Dathomir Nightsister spells and traditional Force powers. It is the same Force which binds us all together, but even so none of us have a full understanding of it. We take pieces of it and put it together and call it a full picture, but the details reveal to us how incomplete we truly are. Examine, and you will find that it is so. Even so for a god such as myself.
Do you find it odd that I speak of transcendence more than I speak of perfection? This is because perfection is not a concept that can be realized. Nor should we even attempt to reach it, because it simply does not exist. You might say, "Well, the Force is perfect," but you would be wrong. The Force can be wounded. The Force can be sealed away. The Force can grow. The Force can be manipulated. All four of these concepts are what disprove the notion that the Force is perfect. And if the Force is not perfect, then how much less so are we! Therefore the ideal that should be striven for is transcendence. Growth. I have grown beyond myself and so became a god. But I will, tomorrow, be even more worthy of that title than I am right now. This is the notion to transcend. Gannon understood this, so long ago. His attempts to reach for it were what Darth Vihata revealed to me on Sernpidal. But somehow, even without Vihata's tipoff, I had already come to realize the fallibility of perfection in my own way– and, like with Force Reflex to Force Speed, had already been taking my own steps to realize transcendence in a different strategy than Gannon had. I knew it, deep inside. Perfection is a freeze-frame, is a frozen world, is death. Growth is dynamics, is freedom, is life. He really was my father, and I was truly his son. There is more to a family than genetics. The ideal which binds us and the legacy that we carry on reveal where we really hold our allegiance.
In this Moving Meditation I scarcely had time to register my approach to a deep gorge before it was upon me. Snapping my focus back to reality, I was about to slow my run to a stop and turn back. But then, I thought of the racers on Terrelia. They would have no trouble clearing this leap. Why should I likewise struggle with the distance? I can jump, too, and I have the Force. Let me test my own power here.
So instead of doing what any sane and normal person would have done, as the forty-meter gap between here and the other side came closer upon me, I sped up. Called for all that I could to boost my trotting into a sprint. Ran for all that I was worth for that edge. Carefully measuring the distance with my Force Sight, counting the paces, and relying on my muscle memory to make the jump with the most that I could offer.
Four steps, three steps, two...I became intensely aware of my heartbeat pounding in my eardrums, in time with my footfalls. Of the texture of rock beneath my lightweight footwear. Of the sweat dripping down the crevice of my spine, not caught by the fabric of my shirt. Of the nothingness into which I readily threw myself as the last footstep came and went. Of the stretching of my hamstring as I extended my left leg forward, reaching out my hands likewise so that I would be able to grasp any handholds I might be able to touch in the rock on the other side.
Of how laughably short this jump was going to fall from forty meters. Of how far it would be until I hit the bottom of this chasm. Of how absolutely perilous that sudden stop at the bottom was going to be.
I tumble in free-fall, now. That was a foolish, foolish move; were I a lesser being, I would have paid for this mistake with my life. But there was a part of me which, in the back of my mind, knew that I was not able to make it. And it knew how to respond to this situation, too.
Still, I continue to fall for a bit. This was not unpleasant, after all– except for the notion of the utter failure of my physical skill in this case. Bittersweet, we can call it that. Enjoying the freefall, ruing my genetic inferiority (compared to Lydia, at least).
And then, if you paid any attention to the tale of my escape from the sarlaac, you know what I do now. A Force Barrier, beneath me. Having been falling for a bit, the impact is enough to punch the wind out of me as I find my fall arrested, but it is a far better fate than the sharp rocks at the bottom, and I am able to angle myself favorably to strike the flat surface I have made with no probability of damage beyond potential bruising.
But now I am stuck about two hundred meters from the rim, and I had not thought of this before. I am not able to move my Barriers once I have made them– I try, they wink out of existence. So I can't simply lift this out of the canyon. And quite unlike the sarlaac's belly, I cannot simply grip the walls to go up. The difference then was that the fleshy tissue was quite conducive to being grabbed, I could basically just pinch a handful at a time as I went up. And I had Trogdor, back then, which got me out of a pinch very nicely. These rocks...they have been worn very smooth from the action of the elements: the river below, the wind, the sand carried by the wind. All slopey and dishey holds, nothing that I can easily grab onto. If it were pockets and jugs, I could easily make that climb. But this surface, quite another story. I could jump from Barrier to Barrier, I guess. In other words, I could make a staircase of Barriers as I go. That will be exhausting, however; given my already-tired state from the running and the jumping, I will need to rest for a bit before I start.
I decide that this is my only method of recovery. So, I bring myself to a seated position, and meditate in the Force. Give myself a little bit of time to recover before I exert more mental and physical strain on myself. 200 meters or so is a long ways to go.
Minutes pass there, sitting on my Barrier. My eyelids have closed over the obsidian glass spheres which now occupy my eye sockets. They are warm from my body temperature and the Rattataki mid-morning sun. A soothing feeling which helps bring my mind to a placid state of contemplation in the Force.
Minutes more pass. I feel that I will have relaxed enough with just a little bit longer in this position.
Suddenly, my eyelids snap open as an alternative reaches me. There is another way, a better way.
Although Force Barrier has become my most skilled power behind Force Sight, Lord Brijus would be extremely disappointed that this thought had not struck me first. Indeed, I am even somewhat disappointed in myself for not having arrived at this conclusion yet– I usually pride myself on quickly reaching the most effective solution to my problems.
Telekinesis. From the lip of the canyon, would I have been resigned to climb down in order to retrieve, say, a coin that I dropped? Certainly not! I would simply lift it out with Telekinesis. Now, imagine that I am standing on said coin while I lift it. The problem is solved.
It is difficult to lift yourself with Telekinesis, and indeed I have trouble with that application. Using my aura to latch onto itself is a confusing situation. But if I instead snag some outside object, the dilemma is resolved in short order if I just stand on it. My Sight fixates on two small pebbles on the ground far below, and the Force at my command is not far behind it. With Telekinesis I lift them, straight straight up, and stand upon them. Leaving the Barrier resting there by itself, I take a moment to balance carefully and then lift with gentle precision, floating almost-on-air, rising with next to no effort to the top of the canyon. With the Force at your command, the difference in weight between two pebbles and two pebbles plus a person is negligible– even Yoda said that there was no difference between an X-wing and a rock. The Force which obeys our commands is greater than any of these.
And, as I hop off of the pebbles and onto solid rock once more, I am free to...run all the way back to the Castle. How wonderful.
My return to Castle Ventress after this semi-eventful morning excursion has me feeling as if I would much rather curl up and go back to bed than to oversee Lydia's continued training. Still, it would be negligent if I did, and I would certainly lose a significant amount of respect. So, as she is beginning to rise, I change into a clean set of clothes, throwing my sweat-drenched ones aside to be washed later, and greet her.
"Good morning. Once you have eaten breakfast and done the focusing exercise from yesterday, we can begin today's training."
She nods her head, saying nothing and lacking any evidence of excitement. It is somewhat dismissive, but I will let it slide; it is early yet and she is not used to failure. The very beginning is the worst part of any training.
Lydia's day does not improve from there, however. The Telekinesis that I did in the canyon inspired me to ensure that my skills with that power remain sharp. To that end, her training method for the day is to be blindfolded and to have me throw rocks at her from all angles, with her expected to dodge.
We are in the main hall, near the piles of droid bodies again, and the sun is beating down. A circle of about twenty small stones floats in the air around her, while I am sitting on the bottom stair of a broken staircase. Sweat is pouring from her temples, and I am shouting less-than-helpful words of encouragement at her.
"Focus! Do not think about the pain, or else you will not be able to manage it!"
"But it hurts!" Another rock pelts her shoulder at my command, just after the words escape her mouth. "Ow!"
"If you had been focusing properly, you would have noticed that rock coming. Do you think that your enemies will allow you to stop and nurse your wounds until they resume their attacks?"
She scowled, and brought her hand up to remove the blindfold– then thought better of it as my anger flared ostensibly in her direction. She felt that much, at least, that is good.
"But I cannot see a thing, and this would be hard enough even if I could see them all!"
"Without the blindfold, Lydia, you would not be able to keep them all in your line of sight. So what difference does it make if you cannot see a few of them or if you cannot see any of them? Even with your eyes open, you would be struck in your blind spot. FEEL how I will move them, however, and you will not be hit. The Force has far fewer blind spots than you do."
Despite my inclination to the contrary, I let her catch her breath for a moment before resuming. The results were no better after that, though; she dodged a total of four rocks the entire time that we did this exercise (which was about one an hour). And of those, two of them were because I predicted her to move in a certain direction and was incorrect, and wound up aiming too far off as a result. This is because, by the end, she gave up on waiting to feel the stones be moved and decided to just keep herself in constant, semi-random motion; and, being the end of a four-hour session, I had gotten somewhat lazy with the Telekinesis because my own wits were starting to burn out.
After obtaining my permission, she pulled off the blindfold and sat at my feet.
"I am no good at this yet."
"Yes, that's very true. But your skills will develop, with time. You have not even been a part of this world for a full week yet."
"Yeah." She grew quiet, and I could tell that she wanted to ask something. I did not prompt, though. She does not need me to. She asks very good questions of her own initiative. "...now, what did you mean when you said that the Force has fewer blind spots than we do?"
"I mean that the Force is constantly around us. Your eyes can see about sixty degrees in front of you, and you can extend this by turning your head, but you can never perceive everything at once."
"No, I understand that. My question was, are you implying that the Force actually does have a blind spot?"
Ah. A very good question. "Yes, the Force does have 'blind spots'. The best example of this is the Yuuzhan Vong, who as you know once held the galaxy in a stranglehold. A main part of why they were so successful in their invasion was their advantage over the Jedi. The planet Zonoma Sekot had made them in such a way that the Force did not permeate through them, instead stopping at the skin. They cannot be sensed with the Force, nor can they be affected by direct applications of the Force. Like how I was holding up and throwing those rocks– if I tried to do that to pick up a Vong, it would not work at all. The Jedi called them Force-dead, and this quality of Force-deadness was a major advantage they carried in combat. It was not the only reason they did so well, of course, and over the course of time their initial advantage was lost as the Jedi came to learn a power called Vongsense, which allowed them to sense the 'emptiness' that a Vong has, and as they learned to use the Force against them in other ways. Going back to the rocks– if I tried to pick up a boulder with the Force and throw it at a Vong, then it would certainly work fine to do so. So that is one example of a blind spot in the Force itself. And that does not even begin to address blind spots resulting from our inability to completely grasp what the Force is telling us..." I bared my teeth in a grin. She was already bored with the details of the explanation, so I figured it would be good to wrap it up there instead of providing more anectdotes. "...but there is no question that, even with these sorts of problems, the Force is far more reliable than our other sensory faculties."
"I see."
She does not see. But she will. Soon, very soon. "Come, let's get some food and then return to your training. I will explain the next exercise to you over lunch."
Lydia, as she accompanied me to eat, reflected on the training from earlier. What was it about me? It might have been the unfaltering confidence, or the clearly-demonstrated difference in skill. Whatever it was, she felt a need to prove herself. To put herself through, she admitted to herself, an awful ordeal...but she wanted to make herself a part of this brave new world. To test her mettle against those who were far more than she would have ever met elsewhere. And, for as far as I went, she wants to earn the words "Well done" from me.
That time is coming, Lydia. But it is not yet here. You have much work to do still.
We sat across the table from each other, and she stared intensely into my lifeless eyes. Her gaze expressed the eagerness. I nodded approvingly, then bit into a slice of meat before continuing.
"Everything that you have done so far has been in order to develop your basic skills with manipulating the Force. Now, we know that you are compatible with Force Speed; you've used it before. So, for the time being, your training sessions will be to work on the basics in the morning and on Force Speed in the afternoons."
She nods. She does that a lot, but what else do you do when your instructor pauses to make sure that you are following along? A perfectly natural response. I continue.
"Since you have begun training to move your aura around, and since you can sort of feel the Force around you, it is now just a question of feeling for the Force first, then moving it to empower your muscles. You will run windsprints, using Force Speed out and then a normal sprint to return. We want to get it to where you can use the power comfortably. Then we will have you activate the power under more...stressful conditions."
This seemed like it made sense to Lydia. She held back from asking what stressful conditions would be, instead taking pride in the fact that she would be using the Force for something that is important enough to have been given a name. Better than being pelted with rocks in the name of 'the basics'.
That afternoon, she ran. I made her run. She ran until she was collapsing from exhaustion. With near-effortlessness she had accomplished Force Speed the first time, and the second, and the third. Until her body had lost all of its water through sweat, she kept running at my command. The expression on her face that I saw was not one of suffering, but of freedom. She was making more out of herself than she was before, and for the first time she had obtained tangible results. Lydia loved this.
When she could run no more and passed out at my feet, I lifted her onto my shoulders and carried her across my back all the way to the Castle.
Have you ever noticed that training, in many places, is either glossed over completely or examined only when something exciting happens? But that is not the way it works in real life. In real life, you train and train and train, but the routine becomes just that and habitualism takes over, and you do not make astounding bounds of progress, but you also do not just forget that you are in training, either. Results do not happen without hard work, but neither are results clearly quantified in the midst of it all. Lydia knows this. I know this. In what way should I relate to you just how hard we are working on making her better, without boring you with a day-by-day snapshot? It seems best to me that we illustrate with snapshots, important snapshots. Still, even though they are important, defining moments, they are not fraught with intense action for the most part. It would be extremely negligent of me, as her retainer, to allow her to come into actual peril. You could make the argument that I should have sufficient power to control how much danger comes her way in any conceivable situation, if I am such a god. And you would be right. But you would also be forgetting the principle of conservation and the fact that there is not anything pressing that I need to do right now. Her training is my priority. If we consider her my weapon, then we would remember that a gunfight is not, ideally, where you first learn to shoot. If you have time, you schedule at least one visit to the range beforehand. Time is something that I have in abundance.
Let me show you now the day where Lydia found her name. It is a step in the process.
We were eating lunch after her usual morning routine, during which I had practiced the Force Spike technique. By now, she was more than proficient with Force Speed; augmenting her natural physical skills with the Force was incredible, and yet she still had only just begun to touch the surface of her potential with that power. In a footrace, she can now easily beat my Force Reflex. Not to mention that her endurance is well beyond mine. Thankfully, there is much more to combat than being able to run a long distance without exhausting yourself, and I had just conferred such to her. She set down her fork and folded her hands on the table before her. "This is off-topic, Ryu, but I've been thinking about it. May I?"
"Go on."
"Your name is Lapay no Ryu, and you have mentioned the Way of Lapay several times previously. Your father's name was Gannon no Lapay, and you had a few apprentices who also took on the name Lapay. Should I, um...well, since I am with you, and since you seem to like that name a lot, should I also adopt that name?"
I smiled in the same way that one does to a child. She has come so far from where she was, but still has so far to go. "Lydia, to a certain degree, you already have. To devote yourself as you have already done to the unrelenting increase in power is the greatest principle of the Way of Lapay, as you already know. The name is simply an outward demonstration of this commitment. In the same way that Sith pledge their allegiance to the Dark Side by taking the title 'Darth', the name 'Lapay' is bestowed to distinguish that a person is different from other Sith. So it is a symbol, but it is also more than a symbol. There is power in a name; life and meaning. To call yourself Lapay is a choice, but it is meaningless unless the name also chooses you. If you think that you are ready to take the step, then we will cancel the afternoon training session and meditate on this subject by spar."
"...I am ready."
"Very well, then. Finish your meal and return to the dungeons; I will call for you when I have completed the preparations on the parapets."
I head to the ship after giving these instructions, and locate from within the storage bay the Seven Lightsabers that Vihata gave to me on Sernpidal, which had belonged to my father. They are comprised of a long-handled saber, two curved-grip sabers, and four lightsais, and each blade is black in color. My father was occasionally probe to theatricality, these sabers are an excellent example of this. Especially so, because I heard that he was able to wield all seven simultaneously. Such lunacy; there is almost no way that is possible in an efficient manner.
At any rate, these will be beneficial for what is to come. I take them up, scatter them throughout the ramparts, and then signal to Lydia via telepathy that I am ready for her.
She arrives presently and I explain the exercise to her. "There are seven lightsabers up here. You and I will start in those corners–" I pointed, "–and will obtain at least one of the hidden weapons. Take it, and score a single hit on me and you will have passed this test. If I score a hit on you, however, you will be deemed 'not ready'. These are the conditions of the spar and of the name Lapay. Are you ready?"
"Yes, Ryu." She nodded solemnly, and then headed to her corner. There is a substantial segment of the path that has crumbled away, either due to time or damage; apart from that, we are on opposite corners of an octagon-shaped ring, standing seven stories above the ground.
"On my signal!" I begin to consider how things are going to play out. For now, she is my enemy, not my protegee. <<Go.>>
She will use her body and her Force Speed. Sprint-wise, her Force Speed surpasses me, but the difference is not that great in terms of hand speed. Nonetheless, I think that it is more informative for her if I demonstrate how Force Speed compares to other powers– how other powers can defend against Speed, rather than my Reflex.
This makes her incredibly dangerous for me, unfortunately. Speed is tremendously useful, to combat it requires a high degree of prediction. But Force Sight alleviates this demand to a certain extent, and my combat instincts just might be able to make up for the rest.
Lydia is already rushing around the perimeter of the ring, heading towards the nearest lightsaber. It is to her credit that she can deduce its location with only the Force. Or maybe she just got lucky. I'll ask her later. I permit her to grab it uncontested, instead locating the sabercane and pulling it to myself with Telekinesis. I grip it in my right hand hanging at full-arm extension at my side and ignite the blade, waving the tip slowly back and forth at shoulder-height.
In response, Lydia continues to run around the terrace, closing the gap between us. I stand still. She starts to maneuver the Force to her legs, which I perceive. That is, naturally, the best indicator that she is going to use her newfound Force Speed power.
Watch this, then. I respond by placing an invisible Barrier which will be between her and I, wider than the path and taller than me, less than a meter before me. This positioning will guarantee that she runs headlong into it before reaching me, should she fail to take careful note.
Right on cue, she lights her saber– one of the curved-grip models– and shifts gear into that blinding speed. Even for my Sight, I can only track her as a blur. Sheerly amazing.
But with her focus on her approach, she neglected to pay attention to the Force. (Although anyone who does not specialize in a sense power who notices this Barrier under these conditions is getting lucky to the point of skepticism) And she careens right into the thing with an audible grunt. It does its job in stopping her, that is for sure. She reels back hard.
My response is to turn from stationary to offensive. The Barrier breaks after she runs into it, and I lunge left-leg first. Bringing my right arm in an uppercut motion, I slash vertically at her left side. As stunned as she is, she does manage to step back a little more and clear her body from the damage of the tip.
I can follow up from this stance, though. My right arm's rise is met over my head with my left hand, lower on the long handle. I step with my right leg, toe pointed to my left, and go into a 360-degree counterclockwise spin to build momentum. My left leg lunges forward again, and I drag the saber down in a very strong two-handed chop from my right towards her left shoulder/lung area.
This is dangerous for Lydia, but she benefits from the time I take to do the spin, and from the lingering effects of her Force Speed. Although this is still less than her tenth time in bladed training, she manages to track the path of my attack, and inserts her saber blade between her body and my attack at an angle. My attack strikes her blade and slides down it to the outside of her right, missing her body entirely as she pivots.
Her hope for a fast riposte is lost, however, as I bend with the momentum of my two-hand follow-through and throw my right leg forward in a sweeping horizontal kick at hip height. She braces herself to stand up to the hit, and my foot connects heavily thanks to all the forward motion. That stand-up crumbles; the impact forces her to bend slightly at the inside of her freshly-pivoted waist and she stumbles.
But, after the brief moment of time that I bought from hitting her, it turns out that she can catch me overextended. Her lightsaber is still in an elevated guard, which she uses adeptly by swinging it forward, changing instantly from defense to attack. The blade flashes in an uppercut towards my leg, but I am still a step ahead. Her bending was her hip yielding to my foot; I simply continued to spin. And, deprived of her advanced Speed with the diminution of that power, I could expose my back to her without particular fear. Placing my right foot back down, I waited until her upswing had cleared me. With her arm upraised, I closed the gap backwards with a small hop that resulted in my spine leaning against her right armpit. Madness? No, no. Surely not from me.
See, that jamming of my body into her armpit prevents the lifted arm from bringing her saber slashing down at me– her elbow cannot drop below my head and the range of motion is too small to allow her to generate sufficient motion for a blow to the head that will stop me. My shoulders are too broad for her arm to go around the side, either. Her only option is to transfer the saber to her left hand only. So my saber, which is held against the ground, is free to strike at the right outside of her torso, since I can still move both of my arms.
Some combination of luck, instinct, and the Force warned her before I struck. She must have recognized my advantage, because with all of her Terrelian leg strength she swiftly sprung away. My sharp saber blow buzzed through empty space where she dodged, and I nearly fell over backwards from how I had been leaning against her. But she could not capitalize on this mis-step; she was in midair.
And I...I seize my chance. Those huge jumps are excellent to maneuver, but against a god, there is no action that does not reveal a weakness. Telekinesis is how to do it.
A Force Grip, at the peak of her leap. Plucked as if from an overhanging branch that bends from the weight of its overripe fruit, she is helpless against the invisible arms which I beckon to grasp her torso. Flip her upside down. Lower her to my height. Reel her towards me, back-first. Taking no chances– which is a wise choice, as against this unseen power she thrashes, and flails with her lightsaber. But she cannot see me, because I have brought her backwards towards me. But she cannot hit me, my range is greater, because I have the long-handled lightsaber. I reach the tip out to her left ear, prepared to finish the game here.
But in her spirit, something broke as she heard the hum of my blade. Some restraint that I had not seen was thrown off in desperation– how appropriately so! Because this is the way a Sith grows! Through passion, and desperation is a passion of sorts– and I felt, and saw, my silver aura being absorbed into her orange one. I did not understand for a second, and then I realized.
Force Drain.
She is going to leech all of my strength away if I do not relinquish her! I swiftly cast her aside, making sure that she lands on the platform (albeit in a heap) and focus on replenishing my own energy. This Drain will enable her to act once more with Force Speed, and if I am unprepared I will be in quite a dangerous spot.
Predictably, she stands and engages that power so that she can close that gap again. Predictable, but still hard to counter without resorting to the same power, which would be boring. Amazing how even one skill, if used persistently enough, can be overwhelming.
Two things are different this time, however. The first is that she knows that she cannot jump safely again. After all, she cannot count on the desperation to perform Force Drain a second time, especially since she knows I will attack more swiftly, now that I know she is not entirely helpless like that. The second is that she knows I have at least one method of countering her Speed-filled approach.
Well, these are what I assume she knows. I assume that she is being thoughtful about this. So, I, too, will be thoughtful. I will not counter her encroach the same way as before.
Instead, I run the opposite direction. Oh, and she pursues. As soon as she sees me turn to run, her legs start to sprint with that awesome Force-imbuedness, and I know that she will catch me in short order. This is what I am counting on, partially. The other thing I am counting on is reaching the lightsai that lays on the ground just a few meters to my left.
Although she is nothing but a blur to my Sight now, I can time when she will arrive. And I am prepared. With this next step, I push off of my left foot with a pivot to turn my torso in an about-face, and thrust my right hand out, through which to direct a Force Push. She, still seven meters away or so, will be hit spot-on by it if she does not pause. And it will hit very hard: her velocity ensures this. I continue moving, however: completing the about-face with my right leg coming around my body in front of the left. My back to her, once again; leaning down to snatch that lightsai with my empty right and ignite it as soon as I do.
Lydia, expecting the response and by far able to see it coming in slow-motion compared to her Speed, pauses in short order. The Push misses by a mile. Then, she charges forward once again. I commend her thoughtfulness this time around.
But she does not realize that that Push's intent was only to get her to pause. The amount of time that she can maintain Speed in this sort of scenario is still limited. And, having gathered a second weapon and gotten a moment to brace myself, I have assumed the following defensive posture: the long-handled saber held in my left hand, at fullest extension of the arm and handle, left leg forward, weight back, blade tip at waist-height. She cannot approach without dealing with this blade in some manner or another. Lightsai, held in the right hand, all blades lit, pointing at her, above my head.
She comes. I watch the blur. Strain to feel out for where her saber will strike mine. She will do this, I know– she will not jump, she will not slide. The jump, she knows, is vulnerable (even with Force Speed, gravity's acceleration does not change), the slide, she knows, is likewise vulnerable and even more so damaging because of the dynamic friction. So it is whether she will strike it to the left, right, up, or down. I have been forced, however, to prepare a single reaction in all cases, which I must use as soon as her blade hits mine.
She chooses to knock my saber down with a two-handed chop. As her blade touches mine, I leap backwards as high as I can. She succeeds in taking away my guard, but must step around the blade and, now, approach further as I am in midair.
And, now, deflect the lightsai which I have thrown at her.
All trivial, but all taking up time and focus.
She does, but her saber had to reverse directions in order to do so, and I have risen further into the air while this happened. Now my saber, which she knocked downwards, is in a good guard position to keep her from launching additional assaults at me. Now her Speed is slipping away– she does not realize how tired she is, quite yet. She does not realize that she has spent all the energy she stole from me.
But she will. I land. She closes in and attacks with a decapitation strike, which I parry with a vertical two-hand block, right hand gripping higher than the left, and take a step back. Moving only my wrists, I slide the blade along hers to aim a swift chop at her wrist.
She pulls her saber back smartly, allowing my tip to fall below her waist, and attempts the same swing she has just done– but she did not notice my step backwards, so her swing falls short distance-wise and the blade tip whiffs cleanly. On her follow-through, once the blade has passed by my neck, I step forward with my left leg to recover some range and bring a reverse-sweep towards my right with both hands still on the blade at her front leg, just below the knee.
Despite her fatigue and overswing, she manages to throw that leg back, however, and avoid my hit entirely. Rather than riposte, Lydia's response is to bring her other hand to her saber and assume a defensive posture with a near-vertical guard, favoring her left side. A wise choice, but it will not save her now. Her fate is sealed.
I swing the saber upwards from where its previous attack had ended. None of these attacks are using a long range of motion; I am carefully controlling where the attacks start and end. This makes them both slightly less and slightly more dangerous, in different ways. This attack will hit her guard on the left side, right where she intends. But, as I intend, when the blades collide, I release my left hand and thrust the right arm forward. With the momentum of the swing, my saber will pivot against her blade; with my push forward with the right arm, the tip will carry past her guard and threaten to strike just below her ribs.
She counters by pushing my blade away at the moment it strikes, and with only one of my hands on the blade, this is a smart move. I cannot resist both of her hands like that. But I can work with the rebuff she just gave me. That push brings her saber out of its almost-perfect guard pose, and it sets me up for a pivot inwards. So I rebound clockwise, allowing that right arm to go with the motion of her push, and turn so that my left shoulder swings forward, taking a small lunge with my left leg, and grab her right elbow.
She cannot return her guard in. I jerk that arm down, surprising her and pulling her torso towards me. The natural follow-up is a headbutt. She reels and her guard flounders.
It is now time for this god to perform the endgame.
I snap my left hand forward, and my Telekinesis exerts its influence over her once more: pulling her shoulders square to me and compelling her to bend slightly. My right hand's saber covers me with a guard against her using her blade to stop my next move, which is to bring my right knee into her diaphragm, just below the sternum. A cough is forced out of her as it connects perfectly thanks to the repositioning that I had just done. She crumples inward, but the outstretched left hand has already balled itself into a fist, and I backhand her left temple with its bony knuckles. She starts to fall, and I am quite certain that she has nearly lost consciousness at this point.
As she falls to my left, her saber flashes towards my face, completely independent of her intentions. I flick my own saber up and knock it from her loosened left hand. And, as she looses her balance, I take a deep lunge forward and bend my left knee. Her body is caught on my thigh, her head in my left hand; and I twist the tip of my saber around and bring its burning tip towards her cheek to leave a searing scar in the soft skin there.
“You have failed.”
But as the saber traces its tattoo in her face, I am presented with a flash of pain.
Did I miss her? Did I burn my own hand? Impossible! No! The pain is not burning, it belongs to pressure! And I realize what a small lapse of judgment I have had, as Lydia's teeth close around the little finger of my left hand and her incisors press on the skin with sufficient muscle to draw blood.
My eyebrows lift. Is...is she even aware of what she is doing?
Fifteen minutes later, she has fully regained consciousness and we sit facing each other, debating.
“...no, see, I said that you must land a hit with the lightsaber.”
“Ryu, that is not what you said. You said, 'score a single hit'. Whether it is with the lightsaber or not, I got my hit on you.”
“That does not make sense. I hit you three other times, with my foot, knee, and fist, before you bit me. So therefore, lightsaber or no lightsaber, I scored my hit first. You failed.”
She shakes her head. “No, none of those hits drew blood. Therefore, they are not really hits.”
“That does not make any sense, Lydia.”
She shakes her head again, and a gleam enters her eye as she bares her teeth in a grin. “My name is not Lydia anymore, Ryu. This spar of yours was won by me, because I pierced your skin before you pierced mine. I followed your rules, and I succeeded. You must respect that. You must acknowledge me.”
I say nothing, and she continues.
“Because I drew your blood, you will not call me Lydia anymore. That name means nothing to me any more. My name, because I bit you, will be Lapay no Aire.”
I narrow my brow, and she smiles more broadly. “Lapay no Aire. Say it, Lord Ryu.” I narrow the brow further. “Aire. Say my name, my Lord Ryu.” I say nothing, and she smiles even more. “Your servant, Lapay no Aire, beckons to her master, Lapay no Ryu. Hear my request, my Lord. Say my name. Acknowledge your servant.”
This is going nowhere, so I begrudingly allow it to proceed from my tongue through the cavity of my mouth past my clenched teeth and beyond my open lips. “...Lapay no Aire.” Her smile has turned into her outright beaming, and she stands to perform a very deep bow. “Your servant shall attend your every command, my Lord Lapay no Ryu.”
Well, it is a good name, I suppose. And it having chosen her is a very great step in this direction toward a future of meaning– of, perhaps, her ideal of becoming a goddess. I still consider her to have failed the test but I cannot deny that some magnificent things were done this day. Force Drain, a skill which I will help her hone. So much practice of Speed, under fairly trying conditions. Saber techniques, although unrefined on her part. The dominating pressure of a talented individual using a powerful technique. All of these things point to the promise of great power within this woman. This Lydia. No– not Lydia anymore. Lapay no Aire.
Aire continues to grow, of course. Force Speed, Battle Meditation, Force Drain. These three powers she practices every day. To point out something interesting, we have complimentary powers between Force Drain and Dampen Force, so we train them against each other. It really is something that you wish you could see with Force Sight: where I send as much of my aura as I can to surround and stifle her, while she tries to suck in as much of it as she can while her focus is being assaulted like that. She has to push against my presence and then draw it in again, and I have to push against hers and then pull from it again. This sort of tug-of-war goes on and on for hours. We are both getting quite good at it.
Battle Meditation will be useful for her to use after she masters the Drain power, but again I am thinking of this from a selfish perspective. She will draw from my enemies and then give me their power, how great is that!
My Barriers continue to be of great use to me, and the power continues to evolve for me as I train it. I can cover my skin with a Barrier to act quite like Force Armor, but this is nothing new. What is new is that the shape my Barriers take now are pentagons, not hexagons. You would not think it, but reducing the number of sides from six to five actually makes it a lot easier to form, despite the loss of symmetry. I aim next to be able to build a dodecahedron from them. In principle, this should be easy– no different from a Protection Bubble, really; a sphere can be perfectly tiled into a dodecahedron. It will still take time to get good at this, but time is what we have in abundance.
The heatbeam has been added to Crisis (requiring the addition of another button– actually two buttons– located on either side of the grip, so that it can easily be pressed by squeezing the ring finger tighter, no matter which hand) who approves of the ability to breathe fire, just like Trogdor. Trogdor, jealous of my attention to Crisis, asked me to give him more strength. I accepted his request, and added a retractable cable which connects to a trio of external diatium power cells that I wear on my belt. If I plug him in, he can use the power from those auxiliary cells to strengthen, like a retrosaber, and utterly demolish the blades of my enemies. To supplement those power cells, I also thought to include a de-ionizer. He enjoys the thought of burninating through a foe's lightsaber or some conventionally saber-resistant materials. I think I enjoy it, too. While I was modifying Trogdor with this retrosaber option, I decided to update his ignition studs as well; rather than a twist-lock to separate his halves, I installed a magnetic lock, just with like a paired saber. The magnet lock is deactivated by a button just like the ignition studs– of which there are now six on each half (one for each blade separately, one for the magnetic lock I just mentioned, and one for a quick-on/off for all blades at once). The studs are flat metal plates, which require detection of my fingerprints over them to turn on or off. So the use of Trogdor is now a lot like playing an instrument, with hand position becoming more of a role. But as I spar against Aire, I expect I will become more and more adept at it. And this set of modifications has afforded me greater flexibility, in turn leading to an increase in power. When I asked Freedom what I could do to increase his strength, he merely shook his head and said that he didn't need anything. However, he suggested that I use him to meet additional power requirements; so I gave him a Rylith power cell, which I can use to recharge the blaster power packs and diatium cells as needed. Moreover, the lining of the coat is suitable to use as concealed belt loops, so Freedom now stores a total of nine grenades: three each of glop grenades, EMP pulse grenades, and standard thermal detonators. These were acquired from the standard munitions cache in Rattatak's vacated Combat Arena (which is doing no one any good right now!) so they feature the typical 10m range for grenades. Although I doubt I will need to use them, I also liberated as many replacement grenades as would fit comfortably in one of the overhead compartments of the Yama, just to keep up my supplies in a time of need. Aire noticed with some mild discomfort that this is the compartment right beside the copilot's chair, but I would hear none of her complaints. And Freedom is content to realize that his use as a pack mule is going to help my power, which is a relief to me. I had hoped not to upset him with this request; I do not use his energy character very often, so his feelings are somewhat easily jarred.
Aire told me how she wanted to fight when she has the heatbeam, and I will admit that I was surprised by what she said. She said that she wanted gauntlets that she could use to grapple with. So we took a trip to Uvena III, which I also used to own, and where flourishes a black market. There we bought a pair of shock gloves, which I proceeded to augment with fibers of a ductile alloy of Alchemy origin, which enables them to grip a lightsaber without compromising the ability to conduct electrical shocks into a haplessly grappled opponent (as cortosis would do somewhat thanks to its nonconductive properties). I will say again that I was surprised by this choice, as it seems to me that she is too weak to grapple effectively, but the shock gloves will mitigate the need for her to use a lot of brute strength. And when I expressed my concern, she bowed, and laughed, and said that she must gain skill with these before she can be considered good enough to wield a lightsaber. She named her heatbeam 'Styryl' and her shock gloves 'Doux' and 'Amer' for the right and left glove respectively. I looked on with approval. She has grown powerful already, but still there is much for her to grow into.
Let me tell you now about our swoop bikes! Because these are quite exciting, and the story behind how we found them was pretty good, too.
It was a typical morning when we awoke. The sex we had had the night before had been better than average, and I was fully unclothed when I pulled myself from the bed. After a shower and breakfast, we were preparing to do the usual solo training prior to pitting ourselves in competition for the afternoon. Aire has gotten to a point where I do not need to supervise her training, and am therefore free to focus on my own improvements. Force Spike is the power that I have been favoring lately, due to its unrivaled aggressive potential. Meanwhile, Aire is off sprinting again. She tells me that, each day, she is able to move faster than she could the day before. This is equally impressive and frightening.
To use Force Spike is to make a weapon out of the Force, so I must move, shape, and then solidify my aura. It behaves like a deluxe Force Push, if you think of it in this way. Upon the roof, as the hot sun beats down, I hold the unlit Trogdor in both hands and dance: tracing my way through the shadows of combat as Freedom weighs heavily upon my shoulders. Devient lays by the wall: I need to See what I am doing before I start training to do it with her on. I leap, twist, dodge, parry. Six attacks, groups of three (because there is always a rhythm), which I survive, and then– positioning myself between the two imaginary foes– I stab the unlit Trogdor into the ground and summon a front facing Spike, a rear-facing Spike. I can almost get them simultaneously. But are they strong..?
Taking a break and having a seat to catch my breath while I allay my thirst with a gulp of water, I take note of two large bricks. I can set these up, I guess, on either side of me and see whether I can split them in two with Force Spike.
No sooner had I decided that than the orange blur of Aire appeared on the horizon, sprinting at incredible Speed.
“...she might not be lying about that 'getting faster every day' thing...”
Since she was back, I supposed that we were going to start our collaborative training a bit early today. That was fine with me, I could save the Force Spike strength test for tomorrow. As she reaches near the Castle, she jumps. From the ground all the way up to the kriffing roof. Again, an astounding physical feat from a genetically superior species.
Landing not far from me, she hails and walks over, bowing low. She has acted this way ever since receiving her name; I am not opposed to it, though. Befitting for a god to have a servant.
“My Lord Ryu.”
“Speak freely, Aire.”
She nods and straightens. “Thank you, my lord. As I was running, I took a different route from usual. It was three-quarters out that I noticed a certain graveyard and turned back to inform you of it.”
I tilt my head to the side. Really? She cut short her training to tell me about something as seemingly trivial as this? “It must have been a special graveyard to turn you aside from your sprinting.”
“Indeed, my lord, it was. Will you follow me to observe it?”
“Let us go, right away. On our return, we will resume training.”
She straightens up and bounces with anticipation. “Nothing would please your servant more!” I cannot deny her earnestness. She will make an excellent Sith, if she is not already so.
We are running out to this graveyard that she spoke of. I suppress a sigh– I have not trained Force Reflex very much lately, so it is beneficial for us to be doing this. But I am forced to focus so very very hard to keep my Reflexes sharp enough to have her not completely outdistance me every second that it is a huge chore for us to be doing this. Nonetheless, I relish the task; no greater happiness than to improve my strength. We all take on burdens in the spirit that they will become easier to bear; we all submit to suffering in the hope that our pain will be rewarded. In training, we know it to be so. Yet, as we reach the two, three, four kilometer mark, I begin to sweat even harder while Aire's skin remains dry. This is a tough mental blow to stomach.
How long has it been? But eventually we come to the place that she indicated. And as we return our focus to the reality and the present, and as I slow my breathing, we observe.
We are by the edge of a vast makhtesh, that which is called a pit crater with only a narrow drain, and there below us at the distance of nearly two kilometers is the floor of the formation, dusted only lightly with the superficial sands of the planet Rattatak, and literally covered as far as the eye can see with the strewn corpses of droids and Rattataki alike, the latter of which have been mummified by the arid conditions of this empty planet.
I wrinkle my brow. It has been a long time since I gave up on the notion of becoming the deity to these people. But this is a curious reminder of the people that used to live here, which I nearly forgot about entirely. What was the tragedy that befell this place? What brought the droids and the Rattataki together at this, of all places?
“Let us descend.”
“Indeed, my lord. There is a path not twenty meters ahead that we can follow.”
'Path' was an expression that Aire used very liberally, and which would perhaps be more appropriately replaced by 'downclimb with few to no actual handholds' but I am not complaining here, either. This is fascinating.
As we meander from specimen to specimen, I am able to find no clues regarding the cause for this desolation. Neither can Aire, so our discussion wanders from noteworthy death poses to the usual topics of passion, power, strength, and freedom.
“...My Lord Ryu, what is your purpose?”
“Aire, you know the answer to that question.”
“Ah, let me clarify, Lord Ryu. You have already obtained your freedom. You have become a god. What does the end look like?”
“Oh, I see. Aire, have you already forgotten everything I taught you? There is no end in sight. Wherever there exist more than one of any thing, there is a superlative relationship that also exists between them. For 'power' that superlative relationship is 'most' and 'least'. Therefore my freedom is my slavery to strive to become most so that everything else will become least.”
“But, are you not the only god?”
“I cannot deny the existence of other gods, because if it was possible for me to transcend into deity, then it must also be possible for others. However, even if I were the only one, the dichotomy I just described would still exist. Do you know how?”
“No, my lord.”
“By the 'past' and the 'future' god. The present does not formally exist, but what I will become can still gain or lose power, regardless of deity status. Therefore I can overcome my self.”
“Ah! I see. Then, you are not that different from me, because like you I strive to overcome what I was, and like you I have no end in sight.”
“That is correct. So can you define what exactly it is that makes my deity more than a nominal statement?”
At this she grew silent and considered the question carefully. It wasn't that she took it for granted, but... “...it is hard to put into words. Perhaps you can?”
“Yes. To be a god is to have power that is even beyond the limits of comprehension of the majority of the Universe, but who, by the power which exceeds even his own limits of comprehension, is still constrained to walk among the masses. To have transcended from mundane is to assert these limits of power, and by so doing, challenge all other life to match their power against this. To be a god is to bring the Universe into a new depth of understanding and power by growing his own and by forcing them to grow theirs in turn.”
“Permission to speak freely?”
“Granted, of course.”
“That sounds ridiculous.”
“Prove me wrong, then.”
She considered this, and lifted her eyebrows and nodded. It makes sense when you say it that way.
But consider this, too: does this story end with tragedy, catharsis, moral, or benediction? Predict, if you can, and explain the end to me. Because even I cannot say.
We come over the top of a hill and see the bodies of several hundred swoop bikes. Well, this is not unexpected, because I used to run a swoop bike squadron of Elite Rattataki soldiers, back when I was the governor. I had originally planned to have them raid the Ssi-Ruuvi, but the dinosaurs went extinct long before the mammals and so these plans became unnecessary.
Among the wreckage were several intact specimens, and, being ever on the lookout for things of this sort, I took fancy to a particular model. Already, the mental cogs were turning. Partially for a way to avoid running all the way back, and partially for a method to increase my power. A swoop? Depending on how I use it, it could be capable of mowing through absolute legions of troops. And, let me be honest– while I dwarf even an entire platoon of elite soldiers in power, without careful planning and good fortune, a large enough army would be able to put an end to my life. A vehicle like this, light though it is, could even the odds somewhat, and give me an additional handle with which to overpower.
So I take it. Following my lead, Aire picks a swoop for herself, too. And from that moment on, we ride these swoops around the mass graveyard.
In short order, we discover the reason for the massive battle that led to the dual extinctions. The Rattataki were building a superweapon, located at the geographic center of this makhtesh. When we ride up to it, its function is unknown to us; but we dismount, and I seek to unravel its mysteries. Once again, Force Sight proves its incredible utility.
“...So this is some sort of atmospheric device, you can tell because of all the rotary pumps. Its support goes incredibly deep, and there are a series of what we can only call metal roots, so we can say that it is run at least in part by geothermal means. The filters inside the furnace are basically new, so it seems that the droid army was able to obtain advance intel and prevent this thing's operation. The exhaust lines for this thing are surrounded by fine mesh, but there is not any sign of residue on them, not even at the microscopic level...on the ground level, there is a series of massive electromagnets, but I think...no, it would not make any sense for the droids to have to come into the building itself, and even then the magnetic field would have to be on the order of a teraGauss to have adverse effects, and even with that the field couldn't extend more than a couple kilometers before attenuating thanks to the magnetic fields on the planet...and, now that I look at it, this building is made with mumetal, so the magnetic field is well-contained. That's a good plan. So, there's this giant series of electromagnets, and a huge amount of...huge amount of power, and processing, and pumps, and mesh filters... ... ...Aire... it looks like...the Rattataki were trying to ionize the entire atmosphere.”
I could hardly believe it when I heard it. But this machine would do it. It was fairly unbelievable, for sure, but if the droid presence on planet was sufficient, they would need to overload them somehow. Making the atmosphere droid-toxic would do that, sure...but...an ionized atmosphere? Is that even possible? Sure, it can be done in theory, but theory tends to leave out some practical considerations, and besides that an ion atmosphere is not a habitable environment for species like this. But, if they were planning on turning this thing on and just leaving it run, that would explain why the Rattataki may have migrated from the planet. Seems like a really desperate measure, though...but, I guess the droids considered it to be a sufficiently serious threat to dispatch their army to suppress its completion, and I guess the Rattataki considered it to be a sufficiently necessary measure to defend it to the death as they did...
“Lord Ryu. We should complete this superweapon and see if we can use it on another planet!”
I was surprised to hear this from Aire, but as I turned my face towards her, I did note the sincerity in her heart.
“To what end?”
“Because, Lord Ryu. If you wish to make others transcend, as you are doing with me, then you must shatter their reality. It cannot be fixed, that which has not been broken.”
“...you are indeed correct, Aire. But this machine cannot be moved.”
“Is there no way for it to be accomplished with the Force?”
I was about to answer, 'no', but then I thought about it. With the Force, nothing is impossible. I thought harder and remembered that there was such a power. I had only gotten a minimal exposure to it, on Ison, but I had read in that insane doctor's writings. Quaestor Verus's laboratory notebook - he who was responsible for the birth of Solus - I had seen it in the core, which I glanced at only once to understand that it was too dense for me to even see through with Force Sight. That was back then...I wonder, now, what it would be like? But I knew the name of the power. Dimension Shift. It could be moved with that. But...
“It can be done. But there is much more training to be done first. Let your mind not dwell on it for now, my servant. Let us return to the Castle.”
And with that, we put this brief moment behind us for the time being. We will return to it, eventually...Dimension Shift will motivate us in the future. But for now, it must be an afterthought. Aire is not ready.
Those swoops we salvaged for our own use, by the way? We proceed to customize them substantially. Aire named hers the 'Vita'. She took the twin missile launchers from an IG-227 Hailfire-class tank and attached them in saddlebag position to her swoop, and brought onboard a targeting computer from a separate droid for use with those 30 missiles. The light frame of her swoop could barely support it, so she also had to make extensive upgrades to the engines. The result was a swoop with miserable acceleration, but amazing top speed. Per my request, she also installed a shield generator. I, likewise, installed a shield generator on my swoop– mine is more durable than hers. I split the repulsors between front and rear end, which gave it a vastly improved amount of maneuverability when I made them independently controlled. With the addition of topside repulsors, my swoop also gained the ability to do a barrel roll. And, to round out the armament, I mounted a pair of front-facing Z-6 rotary blaster cannons on two swivel struts, which gave them 120-degree firing arcs. These trinkets forced me to overlook the engines and install an improved power source on it, so my bike is quite heavy and slow by swoop means. This chunky swoop bike I named the 'Narumi'. And, happily, with a bit of effort, persistence, and a reliable set of fusioncutters, we were able to reorganize the storage hold on the Yama so that both bikes are able to fit.
Time has continued to pass; our training has grown mundane by this point. I itch to be able to train in Vaapad some more, but I believe that Aire would die. The surface of this abandoned planet has started to become a burden to me. As that thought formed in my mind, I immediately understood what the underlying problem is: that I have been in one place for too long. We should move on...but that presupposes that I have some place to go, and something to do. In all truth, the training should continue here, in this isolated environment. But, by the same token, in an isolated environment, your training suffers slightly. Cannot quite reach you to the same heights that you would attain by the tried-and-true method of throwing caution to the winds and putting your life on the line before the blade of another. As I glance at Aire, who is shadowboxing against a number of foes unknown with her shock gloves and left wrist-mounted heatbeam, it strikes home that this, although already responsible for such results, is not going to be satisfactory for much longer. We must move on, purpose and destination be damned. The migration must be done for its own sake, how's that for purpose? We will end up where the Force wills us to go, how's that for destination?
But, I think before we go, Aire still lacks one thing.
“Aire, my faithful servant, come over here for a moment.” Addressing her as my servant is, strangely, what she prefers from me. I do not think that I will ever understand it much. But you saw it, as did I: she changed when she took the name Lapay. As my voice reaches over to her, she immediately bows and walks briskly over.
“Lord Ryu, what is it?” A summoning from Ryu does not come without purpose; training, to him, has always been of utmost importance. As it has been for her, for that matter. So she was eager to hear what new thought had occurred to him, and was equally pleased at the reminder that Ryu had accepted her through and through as a servant. Belonging is a thought that is not understood by those who have always belonged; only when you lose it do you understand how important it is.
“The time is now upon us where we shall depart from this world. But there is a matter that you have failed to address so far. You said before that you would not touch it until you are ready, but it has now come. Lapay no Aire! I deem that you are ready. The time has come for you to craft your own lightsaber.” And I felt it to be true. She needs to do so– we have sparred innumerable times with the lightsabers of my father, and with her set of Styryl, Doux, and Amer versus my set of Devient, Freedom and Crisis. She has not yet managed to force me to include Trogdor, which is something that should be remedied soon as she begins the long-honored tradition of crafting her weapon.
Aire was more than happy to hear this news, and rather than leave it where I left it, she spoke up immediately. “My master, I have been waiting for the moment when you would say that I am ready. I could not say it for myself. But now, let me paint you the picture of what your instrument is when she has become complete. A blade so sharp that it can separate the layers of flesh from each other, without fault and without error. An elegance so untouchable that all the howling of the winds would not make it miss a step. A defense so fluid that it cannot even be held in a container, so adept at being untouched it is. Your sword will strike where you tell it and your blade will pierce what you need it to pierce. Your shield will rebuff what would approach you and your guard will deflect your opposition. With these arms, these legs, this body, this Force, I shall become to you, my master and my god, your weapon. I will be your outstretched hand over this Universe.”
To this, there was nothing that I could do to keep the curve from spreading across my lips as I imagined her with a true weapon in hand. At the mention of being my outstretched hand, even my teeth were revealed with the peeling of the lip within this smile of darkest intent. Lapay no Aire will indeed become what she predicted. “You have spoken well.”
We went down and sat facing each other cross-legged in the dungeon. I gazed on her face with unseeing eyes, and she blinked longer than the standard length in between maintaining contact. Wordlessly we engaged in Battle Meditation so that our collective mind could dwell on the vision that she had elucidated. For the better part of an hour we remained like this. After all, despite the well-spoken words, neither of us can picture yet what it will be, exactly. Nebulous words and idealistic symbolism is no substitute for an actual plan. Nonetheless, we have all that we need; simply by tossing ideas back and forth from mind to mind, we will refine edged iron from the silken shadows. And our foundation is strong! For all this time spent training and fighting has not been meaningless. She knows, I know, what she does well, what styles she prefers, what she needs to compensate for, what she needs to complement. We will discover, in this meditation within the cold dry basement of Castle Ventress, exactly that which will help her to make her own mark and which will accent her strengths in the way that she needs to optimize her power.
Aire contemplated a lightsaber pike for a bit. This, however, I shot down, despite that at its heart Trogdor is a pike. There is no need for both of us to wield staff-like weapons, and it is inconsistent with her professed goal of untouchable elegance. A pike is always touched. I counter-proposed lightclaws. After all, she is going to be using up-close-and-personal attacks with her Doux and Amer. Why not add her lightsaber to that mix? But for that very reason, she rejected it. Doux and Amer, she said, are sufficient for her strength in hand-to-hand. Her lightsaber should take a different approach. Well, said I, what about a saberstaff? It is similar to a pike and it does have flexibility, especially with the resistance of her gauntlets, which she could use to grip this sort of weapon by its very blade, allowing for greater unpredictability than normal. She nayed this option, likewise; I don't blame her, if your lightsaber is chosen based on some gimmick rather than a solid strategy, then it is not all that powerful after all, and you will suffer far more when it fails. She then asked, is a single-bladed saber so bad? No, of course it isn't. But the Universe has grown to a point where the Force-sensitive presence is near-ubiquitous. The strategies that exist are all tailored around a user of a single blade, first and foremost. Does that mean that you are doomed to fail if you use only a single saber? No, it doesn't. What it means is exactly this: the counters to a single blade saber exist as tools for your opponent to use. Denying them of a weapon at their disposal before it is possible for them to use it is also a tool that you have. And as we know, weapons are strengths, and power is the integral of all strength. Reduce the elements in their array and you have reduced their power. It is your choice of whether or not to do so, but a single blade saber is the choice of not doing so. Not only that, but there is the cautionary word that, to claim supreme power, you claim that you are more powerful than all of the other existing single-blade practitioners out there. Is that a bad thing? Again, no. But it is a steeper uphill climb than the alternative. Once again, this is not necessarily a negative thing, nor should it be a compelling reason to turn down single-saber combat style. But it is something to consider. And, as she considered this, she agreed that the single-saber style would be better left alone; or rather, modified for her. I nod. The Sith have historically been more apt to distinguish their styles as definitively personal than the Jedi; the examples exceed the space on the page. Darth Bane, who used a curved-hilt saber with Shien, a rarity. Exar Kun, who modified his single blade when he left the order to make one of the earliest saberstaves. Darth Maul, who used a long-handle saberstaff. Darth Tyranus, whose curved-hilt saber was perfect for his Makashi style. Darth Sidious, who, with a single saber, specialized in Trakata to make his combat very anti-swordsman. The reason for this is ever so simple, though. The Jedi have always been more of a policing role in the Universe. They deal with vast numbers of non-sensitives armed with a blaster and little else, unable to sense the Force and not nearly as trained in combat than the Jedi. Just like the Way of Lapay, it is useless to exercise more power than is needed for any job. So if the sight of a lightsaber is often enough to resolve a conflict, why should they bother to grow more elaborate than a single saber? Become very skilled with just that, and you have gotten yourself as far as you need. Compound that motivation with the fact that there are frequently many Jedi being trained in one place, which discourages individuality. After all, the battlemaster cannot efficiently teach all of the Classical Forms to many students if he has hundreds of different styles to equate them to. After becoming a Knight or a Master, the Jedi is free to make such decisions on his own, but there are few who choose to abandon their acquired skills to start from scratch with something that would arguably make them far more powerful. At the least, harder to deal with. With the Sith, this is not the case, mostly because any Sith Order that existed has maintained all focus on the Master-Apprentice relationship, and there has seldom if ever been any group training that would streamline saber choice to a single standard. Moreover, the principal enemy of the Sith is usually an opponent wielding a saber. Give two beings of near-equal power the same weapon, and if you want to know the result you may simply toss a coin. Finally, the Sith are focused on the individual from the very beginning of the Code, and also seek to distinguish themselves– when they wish to be known, and a situation where a lightsaber is drawn is almost always one where they wish to be known– from the Jedi. With this, we nearly exhaust all of the reasons for the historical propensity for the Sith to favor a more personal saber choice than the single straight blade. The thought struck me, though, that she had made quite a lot of mention of contrast, attack and defense, in her description. That, Aire, is highly reminiscent of Jar'Kai. Dual-wielding style. She considers this for a moment, but after a few thoughts, denies. To use both hands for interchangeable attack and defense requires more dexterity than she would like to devote to her style. Once again, I cannot blame her. I am capable of dual-wielding Trogdor, but I very seldom choose to do so. Few are the moments where having two blades will help you to succeed where one was not enough. She heard this, and asked, 'what if there were not two identical blades?' Affirmingly, I related the example of Sora Bulq, who used saber-and-shoto when he was aiming to master Vaapad. I know him well, I read as many accounts as existed of him when I sought Vaapad for myself. Aire liked this idea, but she accurately highlights both the offensive and defensive shortcomings of a shoto. You can only hit with it when you are close; to defend with it, you have to move it adeptly and often, and you cannot guard your legs with it. I respond that your footwork is responsible for defending your legs, which resonates well with her due to the great strength of her species' legs. However, she still does not like the idea of the long/short dual wield style, again because of the amount of dexterity involved. Indeed, it is identical to the typical dual style, except that you actually have to work harder due to the short sword, and as a tradeoff for asymmetry you are handicapped in reach. The advantage you gain is, again, flexibility. Shotos are useful whenever swinging a full size lightsaber is not advantageous. Such situations are exactly as rare as you expect. To make the case even more unfavorable for a shoto, she is already more than adequately equipped for any time when you might want one thanks to Doux and Amer. So we are in agreement that a shoto is not for her. Then she asks, 'what about a shield?' A shield? Well, personal shielding is not unheard of, although energy-resistant armor is usually the more favored choice, because despite the reduction in mobility and reduced ability to use a number of Force powers, you have the benefit that your power cells are not going to fail on you at a critical moment. Actually, isn't it a critical moment anytime they fail? Except if they fail when you are in the wilderness in which case it is a nuisance because you have to replace them when you get back to civilization but even so, what were you doing with your shields on in the middle of the wilderness. No, she responds, a shield like they used in antiquity. The round shield that you wear on your arm and use in conjunction with a sword, usually. I voice my distinct disapproval of any weapon which is not primarily energy-based; this is the modern era, we should act like it. But she says that she has seen energy shields in use before. I have not heard of them. She tells me of the shield gauntlets used by the former Kilian Rangers, which are similar to the personal portable shields used by some of the Death Watch. It satisfies my preference for energy weapons, which are superior in every way to non-energy weapons, you know. She tells me that they are capable to deflecting blasters and slugs alike, thanks to the type of force field that it projects. And she says, since I have not heard of it, that there cannot possibly exist a known counter to this strategy. Faced with the first style that she has wholeheartedly embraced, I concede my approval– but then she interrupts to say that her lightsaber needs to be different from others'. Taking the bait, I ask her how. 'I need to be able to pierce even the slightest opening,' she replies. To accomplish this, she wants a saber blade that it half as thin as the standard model. I respond that this can and has been done before, albeit rarely.
And with that, we have reached our conclusion; we disengage Battle Meditation and speak normally. “So you have decided use a lightshield and saber style. It is different, Aire, I will grant you that. Will you be powerful enough to use it well?”
“Lord Ryu, I will increase my strength until I am.”
“Hah, well said. Come! We are leaving.” I straighten to my feet, stretching my sore back muscles, feeling the stiffness which accompanies sudden movement after such prolonged motionlessness in meditation. She cocks her head and asks the unspoken question with her aura. “We are going to Fondor.” She still does not understand, and her posture indicates so clearly. I extend my hand and help her to her feet, beginning the march to the Yama as I do. “Fondor is in the Tapani Sector, which was the seat of Seven Houses of aristocracy. A long time ago, their bloodlines had some influence by the Dark Jedi. While the Force sensitives no longer play a role, they left behind some...relics...of their time, which the nobles took into their possession. And, being exactly what you would expect, the aristocrats took to sport in different fashion than the common man. While you Terrelians interpreted competition as outclassing your fellows with physical feats, the Tapani nobles preferred to outclass each other with demonstrations of elegance and precision. So, we are going to see if there is a museum on Fondor, where we can examine those weapons. I believe they are called lightfoils, and I believe they are thinner than the usual saber blade. With Force Sight, I will examine their inner construction as plain as day. But you, Aire, will construct it on your own. All we need to know is the basic difference between a foil and a saber, mechanically-speaking. Once we have that, and after I synthesize an appropriate crystal, you can make the weapon you so desire. As for the shield gauntlet, it seems that we can find that in the Kilia system, so we can head there after construction of your saber has begun.”
Loading up the Yama with all of our amenities took about twenty minutes; we really didn't have many articles to pack up, and it is not as if there will be an inspector coming by to reject our security deposit refund if we don't leave the dungeons in spotless condition, so things went quickly. On our way out, I lifted a DuraShelter and two additional bolts of di-chrome for repairs to it from the Castle storage before settling down into the captain's chair on board the Yama and making the necessary preparations (which of course included pulling up a research overview of the planet Fondor in the free-access encylopedia on the HoloNet on a datapad) and charting a course in the ship's navicomputer.
Arrival over Fondor occurred without incident, and we were greeted by the sight of their massive shipyards after only three hours spent in near-silent solo meditation. Communications were opened from the Yama to the planet; given the planet's contemporary alignment with Jedi factions, I made sure to reprise the role of the governor of Rattatak. This should have the dual advantage of permitting me to not reveal my Dark Side alignment and of granting me an easier entrance to the planet due to priority status. The noble houses have long ago been dissolved (I did my research), but even so, the information that I need is certain to be accessible in the Fondor Academy of Engineering and Design– not that I think that they use lightfoils, anymore, but I do think that the recreational activities from yesteryear will be documented in either the Academy's archives, or in a museum (you always find museums nestled in academic settings like this) or even perhaps their history department, if it exists. The Academy is situated northwest of the downtown sector of Fondor City, which is good. I explain to the communication guy that is clearing me for planet access of my status and my intention to establish an Academy to attempt to put Rattatak back on the galactic map.
:: ...therefore it would be quite beneficial if there were some way to meet with the president of the school. ::
:: I can make the call for you, but President Anderson's schedule may not be permit it today. If we had had earlier notice of your arrival – ::
:: Yes, I apologize again for that. ::
:: – then we would certainly have been able to accommodate your request. While we wait to hear back from the president's office, is there anything that interests you on Fondor, Governor Striker? :: I did use a pseudonym, yes. :: I was wondering what sort of cultural sights exist near the Academy, actually. My chief of the academic division is here with me, and it would be nice to relax with some sort of sightseeing, since we have come this far. Something nice, perhaps a concert or a gallery... ::
:: Well, there is going to be a performance by the Bith Symphony Orchestra in three days' time, but you said that you have an appointment on Ossus the day after tomorrow, so unless you can lengthen your stay it won't be an option...there is the Saber Rake Hall of Fame within the Museum of Tapan Fencing, and the Fondorian Gallery of Architectural Aesthetics on the Academy campus itself, perhaps you might spend some time at one of these..? ::
My teeth flashed in a smile unseen by the operator, and I sent the formal request for the Academy's coordinates. :: That seems like it will be perfect. ::
Upon our entrance to the Museum of Tapan fencing, I found almost immediately what it was that I sought: an antique hilt belonging to one of these saber rakes. While Aire went on to see the museum for all its worth – I did not really care to do so, and if she found out anything worthwhile she could surely tell me – I took a seat on a bench near the transparisteel-enclosed relic, studying its inner contents with the full advantage conferred to me by Force Sight.
What I found surprised me. First, it was clear that the crystal was de-tuned from its optimal position, indicating that this was a foil made by a non-sensitive. In some ways, that is actually a good thing, because it is the Force sensitive who will make non-standard component additions to his saber. Second, I saw no evidence of components that varied even slightly from the standard lightsaber. The hilt was actually what had received the bulk of attention, which I found laughably pathetic: all of their efforts on superficiality! The balance probably felt great, but this is not a big issue that needs solving for a Force sensitive. Although, to be fair, a non-sensitive does need to have the balance carefully worked on to ensure survival when wielding the blade. The circuitry did have one auxiliary power source, which bypassed the emitter matrix entirely; instead, it augmented the flux aperture. I guessed that this was used to strengthen the energy field that cycles the plasma; since it is smaller, it may be more susceptible to blade breaking, and the strengthening apparatus might be used to mitigate that weakness. Apart from that, everything looked exactly the same.
Aire, meanwhile, is immersing herself in the culture of the sport. Which is all well and good, but my mission to determine whatever little-known secrets may have lain within the hilt of the lightfoil has already concluded. There is no purpose for me to remain here. Very soon, my mind wanders to antics...and the practice of my powers.
There is a small boy, no older than the age of seven, who is walking around the museum and looking at the various exhibits. At this age, he is too young to appreciate much beyond the exciting poses and the moving pictures of some of the more dramatic saberplays. The thought strikes me, and I obey it: this small boy will have an abrupt end to his day at the gallery. Without moving, I take stock. He is about nine meters behind me and to my left. This distance is trivial. With sudden focus, I zoom in on his neck with Force Sight, observing the blood flowing through his arteries, oblivious to all else. And then, with very little effort – after all, I am unopposed; in battle, it is wise to expend a bit more force – I use the Force Spike technique. At my command, the Force shapes itself into an invisible nail which I proceed to instantly drive through the wall of his carotid artery. My focus snaps back to me in time for me to observe from my usual perspective this child's collapse and the sudden flux of people wondering what had just happened. I stand and go with the crowd, I: the only one who actually knows what happened here. The medical team will find it indiscernible from a ruptured aneurysm, I have made sure of that. I take a seat outside the museum after the crowds disperse, after the medical team takes the body away. I heard them call it as of 15:22 that the pulse was lost. His mother wept and his father shook his head as if to ward away the reality of what happened, but through it all I neither grinned nor turned away. They called his ending a freak accident.
This is a proof. It is a necessity that I will neither mourn nor embrace.
On our way out of the Fondor system, I begin the Sith Alchemy ritual through which her crystal would be grown. The use of Alchemy in this case frees us from the need to use a geological compressor, which would take up a large amount of space on the ship. Instead, throughout the duration of the ritual, I will be carefully controlling the crystal growth from the seed crystal. The Dark Side is a pathway to many abilities some would deem unnatural. The crystal growth will be from an aqueous matrix containing many common mineral silicates and oxides. A large sample size is all that is needed; Sith Alchemy takes care of the rest. While crystal structure is not my area of greatest expertise, I am familiar enough with lightsaber crystals to know what is needed, and where my knowledge fails me, the Dark Side will guide me on the path to complete the goal. Adequate preparation is satisfied with the fluid and my own meditation. This will be an arduous task. The first time I made synthetic crystals was for Trogdor, and it was in a geological compressor that I found on Ison's station. The result of the process was a set of unstable crystals, which I found satisfactory for my purposes in Trogdor, but for Aire's high-precision weapon, only the highest specifications will do. In that sense, it is good that I am going to personally be responsible for every step of their growth. I seal the door to the spare room that I have converted into a temporary lab space, prepare the solutions in their respective vessels, and fasten the seed crystal. Then I enter the Dark Side with all of the strength I can muster in the beginning of Sith Alchemy.
The crystal is as the core of a star, and I am the god of all space who holds it in his hand. As things are now it is no more than a glowing pocket of gases. The potential is there but it is nothing yet. Reaching out my hands in the void, I cup them around the gases and squeeze, compressing them. Through the fingers the glow can be seen, a plasma has been made. But it will burn out unless I shape it correctly. I must knead it, pull it, roll it, and shelter it from all outside influence until it becomes a self-sufficient entity.
The crystallization has been started, but it will take longer than our journey to Kilia IV for it to be completed. I have told Aire already to not disturb my work, so once we get there she will be venturing out on her own to find her shield gauntlet.
Aire lands the Yama within the harsh confines of Kilia IV without incident – to her surprise, the planet did not send any request codes, instead allowing her to put the ship down freely on one of the many mesas within this world filled with badlands. She glances at the door that Ryu has sealed and wonders how much longer it will be; rather than disturb the process, however, she takes action to do what she has been preparing this entire voyage to do: find herself the counterpart to the weapon set that she wishes to forge. But how? How indeed...
As she extended the landing platform and walked out to the top of the mesa, she became immediately grateful for the swoop bikes that she and Ryu had picked up at the graveyard makhtesh, as this will be rather perfectly suited to cross the vast expanse of hostile terrain. Rattatak may be arid and mountainous, but the terrain is still, for the most part, flat. This is a series of mounds, and the soil crumbles easily. Even if she were to run, even if she were to use Force Speed, it would be incredibly difficult. More importantly, the Yama's scanners did not detect any sign of civilization on the way in. So, either these guys are all dead, too, or they don't leave much of an electronic impact. Thus, scouting is imperative, and it is always best to scout from overhead. With a hum, the repulsors on the swoop lift it from the ground and she mounts up, placing her hands comfortably on the controls and leaning back. With a sudden rise in pitch, the engines whine as she accelerates and veers upward into the clear sky of this barren world.
But hours pass and no verdant site entreats her earnest eyes. Everything on this world looks the same. On and on it goes, for as far as the eye can see into the horizon. It begins to test the limits of her patience. She would rather train or meditate; at least these bear fruit for the labor that she does, if not right away, then in time. She cannot abandon her search to meditation, and this is even more frustrating for her. And Ryu was in the chamber, not to be disturbed. If he were here, this search would be over already. He can see the entire planet at once, if he wants to. His tactus otium strength is mentally staggering for one such as her. Still, she decides that it is not a bad idea to try to reach out in the Dark Side to supplement her scouting endeavor.
There is no reply from the Force to her beckon call, but she still does not abandon her search. The swoop continues to travel at maximum speed through the atmosphere of Kilia IV, but her mind wanders. She thinks about the weapons that she is going to obtain, and idly daydreams of how she will use them. Thanks to their museum visit, she has become moderately familiar with how to approach the grip of a lightfoil, of how to guard with it, of various positions from which to launch attacks, of the footwork involved. (But there is a world of difference between reading words and taking hold of it for the first time) She pictures Ryu, drawing Trogdor against her in battle for the first time. She will approach first, using the shield gauntlet to deflect his attack – he will definitely attack to keep her from approaching – and counter with the lightfoil, but that will not strike, of course not, he has the other end of Trogdor to block with. But then she can activate Force Speed and outmaneuver him, his body skills are not as good as hers, and if she acts quickly enough, while both sides of Trogdor are momentarily trapped, she could flick the foil inside his guard and drive the tip of her foil upward through his chin and pierce his brain...no, she thinks, it can't be that simple. How would he counter it? With a Barrier, surely, the answer comes to her. That's right, Ryu would have been prepared for her to use Force Speed to catch him flat-footed, and would have coated his whole body with that armor-like Barrier to keep her from getting this easy of a hit in. Then her saber would be stuck, and at that range her Speed would be useless while he counters with...a kick? Force Spike? Trogdor? Oh! But she would have the shield gauntlet with which to defend, that would possibly help out...then what? Well, strike the armor-Barrier until it breaks, of course. But then they are in close range again, and while Trogdor's aggressive range is from a bit further back, if Ryu hadn't used Force Spike, he would be able to use Force Reflex; the armor-Barrier would outlast her Speed with ease, so then he would have all the advantage and she would have to run away. But she can't really jump, that leaves her vulnerable to Telekinesis...oh, maybe instead of hitting the armor-Barrier until it breaks, she would do better to Force Drain it away? She guesses that there is no way to know for sure until she tries...
So caught up in her imagination of this battle is Aire that she nearly collides head-on with another swoop that she did not even notice coming. Thanks to the skillful reflex of the other pilot, disaster is averted; but he wheels around and motions for her to descend. Sheepishly, Aire complies.
“What in the name of Chaos were you thinking? Are you flying blind, you kriffing idiot?” the pilot, a Kilian male of approximately mid-twenties half-shouts at her, gesturing to her swoop.
“Sorry, sorry, I dozed off for a little bit there. The flight was very boring and I haven't slept for a while...” Excusing herself, Aire sizes up the man. He is in good shape, he clearly trains his body well. “I'll be more careful next time. Is that what you want to hear?”
The man scowls. It's clear to him that, to a certain extent, he is being patronized; but then again, what else was he expecting to hear? He adjusts his tone, rationalizing that perhaps this was, as she said, just an accident. He can be a reasonable person, after all.
Too bad that Aire has already decided that he will die. “You aren't from around here, are you?” Aire judged him heavily on this statement, finding his obliviousness overwhelming. She has blue skin, of course she's not from around here. “My name is Ethan Mervelis, Squire to Kilian Ranger Seth Currenno.” Oh, this kid's fate is most definitely sealed, Aire thought. She would kill him and take his shield gauntlet. “As a Ranger-in-training, it is part of my duty to be of assistance to those in need. How may I be of service, miss...?” He trailed off, to allow her to introduce herself. Aire caught the gist and threw out the pseudonym that she had used on Fondor. “Lydia. Lydia Pearce. It is good to make your acquaintance, Squire Ethan Mervelis, now that you are not yelling at me for my flying mishap.” He looked away sheepishly for a second. “Yes, I am sorry that I lost my temper with you there. It was unbecoming of me. Is there some way that I could make it up to you?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, there is,” Aire smiled disarmingly. “I have come to Kilia IV because I have heard that there is no substitute for textiles woven from Kilian Bantha wool, and that there exist many cheap knock-offs that aren't at all of the same quality. So, being in this neck of the galaxy, I decided to come on my own to check it out and perhaps obtain a new wardrobe item or two.”
Ethan looked puzzled. “I was not aware that we were well-known for that...I mean, our fabrics are pretty good, and our banthas are special, but...wow, that is a little unexpected. But yeah, sure...I mean! Of course, it would be my pleasure. Please follow me, I will take you to the city.”
Aire noted that he had not prefaced 'city' with the word 'capital', but this is because she does not realize that there is only one city on Kilia. All of the rest of civilization is not civilization at all, but rather scattered forts and farms here and there.
She mounts her swoop again and follows Ethan through the hazy early-evening sky. Dozens of kilometers of nothing. But, with time, on the distant horizon appeared the rising peaks indicative of at least a few moderately-sized buildings of the city. Ethan pointed these out to her, again announcing (in her mind) that he was an unobservant simpleton. “That's the city, over there. It's a busy place, so you'll have to make sure not to get lost in the crowds.” “I see. Is there a lot of crime?” There are not enough people on the entire planet for criminal behavior to be a problem. “Of course not! It is one of the duties of us Kilian Rangers to enforce the laws of the noble houses.” Aire was growing somewhat weary of all these planets that are ruled by nobles. Unfortunately, oligarchies are ubiquitous in the Universe, and they will not be ending anytime soon.
“Oh. I guess there's just a lot I don't know about the Rangers.” “Yeah. But you're an outsider.” She rolled her eyes. “...so can you tell me a little bit about what the Rangers are and what they do?” And for the next thirty-four minutes Aire regretted ever posing that question, because the thing about people like Ethan is that they find one topic that they like and then proceed to go on and on about it. But they have no structure or sequence of thoughts, and so the narrative they spin is like a tangled mess of yarn, and you have to jump around with them or else you'll lose out. The one good thing about his talking was the information that he, like all Squires, did not carry any of the Ranger weapons; only once they were conferred official acceptance into the ranks were they permitted to have the lance and shield of the corps. So, Aire thought, it turns out that Ranger Seth is going to lose his life, too. Killing Ethan has no point now except that it would be payback for this awful, awful experience. 'Aire, this is the last time you decide to employ two cultural weapons,' she thought to herself. First the Fondorian lightfoil – which, admittedly, she had rather enjoyed learning about...until she had been cut short by Lord Ryu's antics – and now this shield gauntlet business. How miserable. But, she thinks, if it turns out as she hopes, then all of her pains here will be rewarded. And she has the power to MAKE it turn out as she hopes. She begins to daydream about her wield styles again and before she realized it they were landing at the city. Much to her chagrin, Ethan declined the proposition to meet up later for lunch, instead electing himself the president of her unofficial tour of the city. It was as painful and dry as a cactus.
Instead of going over in exhaustive detail the entirety of the tour, let us instead skip ahead to where Ethan introduced her to his mentor Seth. Aire is immediately more impressed with his demeanor, intellect, and wherewithal than he could be worth a hundred Ethans. He bows, and introduces himself, and they speak – and this is where she hatches her plan. Seth is talking about the daily routines most Rangers go through when Aire begins to use Force Drain, very subtly. Caught mid-sentence, Seth pauses over the word he was going to use. The Rangers are Force-sensitives. He knows instantly that something unnatural is going on. The dim one feels it too, but only because it is being used on him. “S-Seth...I think I woke up too early to go riding on my swoop, I just got really tired all of a sudden...” Seth's dark eyes reveal with their expression that he understands, at least partially, why Ethan is tired. Tight-lipped, he turns his head to look at Aire. Aire returns his gaze, and everything becomes clear to Seth. “...Yes, I guess that's right. Ethan, you always make too much time for recreation instead of studying.”
This surprises Aire. She expected Seth to draw his lance, attack her...but he has called her bluff. Well, the Drain is not a bluff, but it also is not her intention to kill Ethan like this. She was aiming to prod Seth into action, and he knows it. She tilts her head slowly in respectful acknowledgment; he will not be the easy target that Ethan will make. But that is fine. She will let him go, for now; she will make it so that they have to act against her. This is her own little trial.
She bids her farewells as they come to the row of shops along the way. Ethan would normally not have let her go, but he is very tired now, and indicates his need to go take a nap. Seth likewise leaves her presence, making an excuse about having something-or-other Ranger duty to do. But Aire knows better. She knows that he will now be watching her. He is the authority, here; he is not going to let her run rampant, which she is very well capable of.
The ball is in her court now, so to speak; Aire needs only to determine how to get Seth to attack her, somewhere where there will be no witnesses. She could use her swoop bike, kidnap some child, maybe...but she is not sure that he has a swoop bike, and anyways, if he does, he will probably bring more than just himself. She could follow Ethan, but he mentioned that his domicile is within the Ranger barracks, so it would be unwise to instigate a fight there. She cannot address Seth straightforward, because this is his planet. He has every opportunity to decline, and then she can do nothing about it. Think, Aire, think!
And then an idea strikes her. Seth has no idea how powerful she really is. Nor does he know what her skills are. She will deceive him.
Chances are, he is watching her. She knows it must be true, but for the life of her she cannot detect him. He is good at tracking, and surely he knows it. So she will put on the appearance of making the marks needed for a Sith Magic ritual. Honestly, she does not even know what these would be; but on a backwater world such as this, all it needs to be is convincing enough that he feels the need to confront her.
She visits a tent supplier and purchases from him ten wooden pegs. Then she makes her way to the rooftop of a building, where she sits for a time and meditates. Additionally, she makes a mental note of five equidistant points on the circumference of the town, and five points to make a pentagon in the city square. Mapping this out, she waits for another fifteen minutes. Seth must believe that her pegs hold power, too, so she touches them each with the Force. There will be no lasting effect, of course, but he does not know that.
Then, over the course of about sixty minutes, she traverses the perimeter and plants these pegs in the places that she noted, driving them all the way into the ground so that they cannot be easily removed. She does this for the five points on the circumference, and then for the pentagon that she had visualized in the center. The city wall circumscribes the pentagram. To anyone, even someone unfamiliar with the symbolism of a pentagram, the meticulous placement would lead to the conclusion that there is at least something of mild interest going on. But to Aire's advantage, the only one who is paying attention to what she is doing is Seth. Surely he has followed her with his dark eyes this entire time; now, the time has come for her to spring the trap.
She leaves the city, and makes her way up an overlooking butte. From this high, she cannot even begin to see where the tent pegs have been placed. But, thanks to touching them with the Force, she can feel them. And so it begins: she reaches out to each one and makes them pulse together with power. To add to the theatricality, she lifts both arms over her head.
And true to her thoughts, Seth comes out of concealment and contests her. “What is it that you intend to do, Lydia?”
She cackles, really playing up that whole Sith Sorceress thing. “Ranger Seth Currenno, it is a good thing that you left the city when you did! Everyone inside it: turn to stone, turn to stone!”
“NO!”
And he draws his Siang lance, and ignites his shield gauntlet. Aire whirls, hissing at him with teeth that can barely hide the grin that wants to steal over her mouth – because he has bought this entire thing. She adorns Doux and Amer, letting him see clearly that their palms sparkle with electricity. “Very well, Ranger Seth Currenno. Since you insist on detaining me, I will simply have to kill you first!”
“I think you underestimate me. As a Kilian Ranger, it is my duty to defend my people. Your mistake was when you first threatened Ethan, Lydia.”
“Ah yes...about that! Since you and your city are about to perish, in your death learn my true name: Lapay no Aire!” And with that, her theatricality ends and Aire decides to take his execution seriously. She lifts her weight to her toes, bouncing at the knees. Her left shoulder is leaned towards Seth, who has a defensive stance with his lance and shield, shield on the left forearm, left foot front. Taking a large step forward with her left, Aire wiggles her upper body in a strange motion intended to distract him – her shoulders lean back first, then snap forward and complete a circle. Showing off that her balance is good enough to maintain readiness with even this odd of a movement. Sliding her right leg along and straightening back up, she shaves a meter off of the gap that separates them, leaving nine. Seth responds by setting his lance on top of his energy shield and firing a warning shot.
Aire easily catches this shot on the palm of Amer, which absorbs it without damage. She was not caught by surprise by this ranged function of the lance, having been told by Ethan all manner of detail regarding the lance and shield of the Rangers. Seth was equally unsurprised that this shot did not hit a mark. There are few opponents, he notes, who will go down to the first hit.
Seth remains motionless in the excellent defensive stance that he was left in after that shot, forcing Aire to come to him. But that was already on her mind. She springs forward scarcely after his finger has lightened its pressure on the trigger, propelling herself with those powerful legs into an airborne low-altitude lunge that closes the gap entirely in just that much of a movement. And the downside to his stance is that Seth is flat-footed, here. Too much defense begs an offense, and Aire intends to find an opening.
But she underestimates Seth. While it is difficult to adjust the aim of the lance quickly, it is comparatively trivial to reject a head-on assault with a shield. Aire lands to find him stepping forward and throwing his left elbow skyward, executing a shield bash which she was not able to counter. She is hit...but, thanks to her good reflexes, she is not knocked down: she grabs the top edge of the shield as it strikes her and pulls to keep herself standing.
Even this move is not surprising to Seth; he turns the lance bayonet towards her and stabs towards her left armpit as she hangs there on his shield. But Aire is now inside his guard – paradoxically, because she is outside his shield – and can easily twist to her right, getting around to his left side, while he cannot turn as easily because she is holding his shield between him and her. The bayonet stab goes wide, and Seth realizes that perhaps things are not looking as benign as he expected.
Thus he deactivates his shield and jumps back a meter and a half. Aire, deprived of her handhold, does not stumble: but, as he reactivates it and brings the lance tip to bear on her again, she does take note of just how exposed she is now. But she is not worried, either. She has Force Speed, and she activates that power now, fueling her muscles and empowering her movement with the Force. The shot that Seth now fires seems to come in slow motion across the gap, and Aire will not dodge it; no, she will block it, just to illustrate the difference between them. She allows the bolt to float into the index finger of Doux, because this is sufficient and this is skillful.
But she did not take into account his use of Force Weapon. Truth be told, she did not even sense it happening. He strengthened his lance, and the bolt he fired as a consequence has benefited from the power of the Force, too; her hand is knocked backward. The energy did not pierce the Sith Alchemy mesh on her shock gauntlets, but the recoil was unexpected. She was angered by this, and, still under the effect of Force Speed, resolved to make him suffer. Swinging her right arm violently back into place, she brings the tip of Styryl to bear on him – Styryl is wrist-mounted on her right arm's bracer – and flexes her fist towards the ground, with that arm extended. The heatbeam activates and fires, an invisible infrared laser beam crossing the gap three hundred thousand times faster than the blaster bolt that he had just sent her way. That is not a joke, that is not an exaggeration. The gas and energy packet emitted by a blaster travels three hundred thousand times slower than the laser beam. Even for someone with Force Speed, the weapon is effectively instantaneous. The heatbeam's signature is a white spot on his skin, caused to glow and burn from the energy imparted. This glow allows her to trace its location, and she moves it faster than he can even blink, right into his left eye, and leaves it there for a few moments. While the heatbeam is archaic, it is still capable of cutting through light durasteel easily, given a bit of time. How much more quickly are the soft tissues that give us our eyesight demolished by this weapon!
Satisfied that this eye is destroyed, she moves across the bridge of his nose, aiming to likewise put out his right eye – and the beam from Styryl passes through the shield just the same, because the energy shield is not impermeable to light. The downfall of this shield, she notes, is that it is translucent. It is beneficial because it can keep its bearer from having any blind spots while using it...but in the same way, the enemy can also see through it, so it confers no particular advantage from that respect, and can even be exploited. Like she is doing right now.
Force Speed's effect drifts away and she returns to normal spacetime, greeted by Seth's now-profusely-bleeding eye sockets. But he did not cry out. He made no sound, in fact. His face scowled, but he did not give any indication that she had done anything to him. This annoys Aire, but does she even realize that he has resolved himself to die here, like this? He is maintaining his composure like a true Ranger. He is giving her an honorable death, to trade off for her not to cast the spell of stone on the city below.
And he is more adept at Force Sense than she is. Thus, his eyes are not all that important to him. If Ryu were here, he would follow this attack up with Dampen Force, which would prevent those Senses from being as useful, and then kill him with ease. But Aire does not have that skill, so she is left to her own devices with a man who is more deceptively dangerous than you would guess, having just been blinded. Perhaps she would do well to put a hole in his trachea with Styryl and let it end like that...or use Force Speed, and snap his neck after getting behind him. But, no. She is far too incensed for that right now.
Seth is gathering his strength in the Force. He maintains his defensive posture, and though Aire circles around him, he pivots to keep his lance in the danger zone near her. She can block it, she and he both know this, but his use of Force Weapon indicated to them both that it was not just a piece of cake for her, anymore. And with greater reliance on Force Sense, he would be able to tell which direction she would be dodging, so it slowly dawns on Aire that she has actually played into his hand. She must hasten to end it without him firing that shot.
She does a feint to the left, to get him to step that way, but then jukes back to the right and charges in at him, preparing to grab that shield and keep it between his lance and her again. She was unprepared for Force Repulse.
It struck her hard and sent her flying again, and Seth followed this up with several shots from the lance, which landed their marks on her right thigh, her right shoulder, and – the one that would have hit her head was blocked with Amer, so she lives. But she is even more angry now. She lands on her feet, like a cat. And then she thrusts her left hand forward, calling the Dark Side to her aid. She will feed on his life energy, that seems like a suitable death! Let him become her sustenance, and then let his equipment belong to her, too! Force Drain!
Power went out from her – one of the few times she had done so – and sought Seth out, surrounding him, pulling his essence to her. He was caught aback, because this is a strange feeling to begin with, and also because this is not a simple power to defend against. Having failed to block its instigation, he was forced to resort to a tug-of-war against her, where she wanted to steal his spirit away and he wanted to keep it within the confines of his body.
In the end, her lack of practice is what caused her to fail. Aire could not leech more than small amount of him away, and her Drain died off to another salvo of lance shots, five in total. Two of these hit their mark, with the rest flying wide. Her anger burned again, but she was forced to calm down, otherwise she realized that she would be picked to pieces by the lance without being able to make any lasting indent on him. Think! Think of how to close in...all he's doing is standing there! It really shouldn't be that hard, even though his eyesight has been replaced by the Force. How would she do it to Ryu? It's honestly no different from that, except that between Seth and Ryu, Ryu is more powerful. Ryu is a god.
Ryu has trouble, Aire recalls, with stopping her Force Speed rushes. And Seth had no answer to her Force Speed when she put out his eyes with it. The problem is his Repulse. If she just charges straight in with no opening, then all he has to do is that. Having solid defenses is really troublesome, especially when said wall just stands there. She can piece away at it, but it can shoot back. But she has an idea...
She calls on the Force to assist this gimmick of hers. “Master Seth! I've come to help!” She shouts an impression of Ethan and throws her voice to make it sound as though it comes from Seth's right-hand side. She reasons that he has the tendency to need to protect things, given the circumstances surrounding this battle, and she knows that he knows just how perilous that would be for Ethan. She guesses correctly, as he turns with a half-step to his left to command his Squire to step back and get away. “No! Ethan, get back to town! Tell them to evacuate – !”
But Ethan was not there, and Seth's reflexes were ahead of his Force senses. He realizes a moment too late of his error, but Aire has already engaged her Force Speed. She has charged in low, on his lance-side, and is inside his bayonet range, and the range of his Force Repulse. He pivots to use a shield bash to back her away again, but he is far too slow, much too late, having been forced into reaction against her Force-enhanced speed. She simply steps around, getting behind his right shoulder. Her right arm snakes up under his right armpit and sneaks behind his head, putting him with ease into a half-Nelson hold. But this is just the beginning: her palm clamps down on his neck, and the shock gauntlets perform their task, delivering high voltage into his skin upon contact.
Despite the pain, Seth does not cry out, but perhaps this is because he cannot. His motions shift from escape attempts to convulsions, and Aire brings her left hand up to touch his left temple, intensifying the electrocution. Still no noise comes from him at this point. She keeps up the contact, delivering with all of her rage the deadly energy stored within Doux and Amer. His body is spasming uncontrollably, so she slides her right hand out from under his arm, and returns her efforts to that Force Drain before placing that hand on his right temple and forcing him to his knees in front of her.
The combination of twin electrocutions and Force Drain is certainly overkill, but it is appeasing her rage, so Aire performs it unhesitatingly. Seth's body is smoking, his skin withering. He has already died. But Aire does not relent until his very essence is gone, until his corpse is nothing but cinders which are swept away by the breeze atop this butte.
She stops when this is complete, looking expressionlessly at the scorch marks left by human remains on the rock. And she nods her approval. Bending down, she plunders the shield gauntlet and fits it to her arm, lighting it up to obtain her first feel for how it will be.
“... ... ...” It is good. It will serve her well. And as for its name, she decides that it should be hereafter called 'Silence'. Wordlessly, she returns to the city and recovers her swoop bike. Since her fury has been extinguished with the death of Seth, she does not pursue Ethan; instead, she will simply fly back to the Yama. Ryu might be done with his crystallization by now.
Back on the Yama, it turns out that it is not the case that Ryu has finished with the growth of her crystals. She is disappointed, slightly. But, she reasons, it has really only been about fifteen hours since he began. In the meantime, she decides that the hilt of her saber could be constructed to minimize the downtime between crystal completion and weaponization of her lightfoil.
The materials needed for building the hilt were present on board the ship, it turns out. Ryu keeps a number of lightsaber components in one of the many storage compartments on board this Star Wing in the unlikely event of necessary field repairs for Trogdor – but can you blame him? For a weapon that uses six auxiliary lightsaber blades in addition to two main blades, maintenance is a valid concern. Aire took her time sorting through the mess of junk, pulling out the organs that she knew would be necessary to bleed life into this thing. An empty diatium power cell, she knows that this is essential. A blank thinner-than-standard cylinder, made of phrik – probably from one of the earlier versions of Trogdor – would be the hilt. The emitter matrix, she wanted that. And cyclic field energizers, which, compared to those of a normal lightsaber, need to be more delicately balanced for her lightfoil. There were even blade emitter circuits that seemed to be in reasonable shape. Aire knew enough about how lightsabers worked from Ryu's explanations early in her training to be able to start putting it all together; in fact, the only thing that was really missing was the incomplete crystal and therefore the containing chamber for said crystal. And there was also the personal touch for the lightfoil: Aire had given this some thought while she was at the Fondor fencing museum, since they had made a point to note that all lightfoils were completely unique, and often bore some touches that made them a bit more flashy than a typical lightsaber hilt. She had elected shortly thereafter to make a basket hilt for that hand, into which she would slide her hand. This would not only make it so that her hand would be protected from anyone trying to score a saber-hand hit, but would also make it so that her saber could not be pulled away while her hand was clenched around it. Naturally, this requires a phrik construction as well; but it seemed Ryu had a good bit of the stuff just laying around, and he could re-form it from already-cast pieces with Sith Alchemy. So, she will make him forge the basket hit as soon as he is done with the crystal – he won't want to, but she will make him do it. And so, before she realizes it, twelve hours have passed. She fell asleep for a short nap at several instances over that period of time, but for the most part managed to get her hilt into a mostly-sensible shape. It was there that she slept, on the floor, surrounded by her workmanship.
It was there that I emerged from the room in which I had immersed myself for the magic of Sith Alchemy, which with a resounding roar swept open before my presence as I rejoined reality. The space that I left behind was twisted by darkness and could no longer contain itself; for three years afterwards no lightsider can enter it without being oppressed by the sheer force of the Dark Side. My glass eyes glow with the power of Chaos wrought within them by my power, and in my open left palm is a black lightsaber crystal, obsidian and glimmering with unnatural light from within. Through the will of the Force, which in turn bows to my will, it exists. It yearns to be put to use.
It was upon the floor that I found and subsequently roused Aire.
When she tuned her lightsaber and ignited it, the black blade extended for a meter. She stared at it in silence, turning her right hand over and around, feeling for the balance that she constructed this weapon to have. The thickness was just under two centimeters. She extinguished it, and tilted her head to note her approval. Aire decided that it shall be named 'Discord'.
She wields the inverted trivium of Discord, Silence, and Chaos.
I gaze upon her, satisfied with the work that I have wrought here. She is powerful, and she exists now in a fashion that is presentable to the Universe at large. There will be no need for us to return to Rattatak for private training any longer. Instead, we will be able to seek out the Dimension Shift power, and the only reason to return to Rattatak at all will be for the atmosphere ionizer. That will not be for some time, however. Dimension Shift will require some investment of time in order to come to grips with using it, especially on a large scale. To that end, I think that our destination is obvious.
“Come, Aire. For now, we return to the gentle clutches of our rest...come tomorrow's light we are bound to where it all began, bound to the center of everything.”
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