Exile .9 and .10

.9 A loose circle formed around him and his combatant, Ikeeriot couldn’t help but feeling the probing eyes on him. Twenty Jedi under the new class name of Wraith were now in his Outcaste. Having been weeks since their first time back on Xolatis, Ikeeriot consistently found new loopholes in his relationship with Valecka to let him able to get out of one day of training with her a week. Valecka had opted to wait another week and take him on as an apprentice in secret but he had suggested that it might be better to tell her former master, Lord Darchind about it. "Why should I tell him now?" Valecka had said. Ikeeriot shook his head calmly, which in retrospect was not the way a Sith initiate should have been acting, but Valecka never noticed. "Honesty is better among a brotherhood. It’s the reason I left the order—they kept too many things secret," he had said. With that, Valecka had swayed just that little bit. Ikeeriot couldn’t help but think he had a little sway with her because of the circumstances they’d met under. That was then, this was, snap-hiss, Ikeeriot’s lightsaber flashed to life as his opponent rushed in. "Be careful now," he said, stepping to the side, leaving his leg out to trip the younger Wraith. This young man was only sixteen, two years younger then Ikeeriot and Anduil, however, the two leaders of the Outcaste commanded a great deal of respect from the other members, having done what no others in the Jedi Order dared: create their own sect and embrace more aggressive Force techniques. "You need to be more aware of your physical strength before you start using more aggressive Force powers. I will not condone," he flipped up his lightsaber and beckoned the Wraith with it, "not condone the usage of Force Lightning unless you exercise daily and follow a healthy meditation regimen. This isn’t the Order, but we’re not going to run wanton around Xolatis with our powers in full blast—make no mistake, there are Sith all around here and they will kill you without a moment’s hesitation." The Wraith facing him jumped into a cartwheel toward him and jabbed his lightsaber at Ikeeriot’s chest. Ikeeriot flicked his white lightsaber against the Wraith’s blue blade and the lightsaber tumbled out of the young man’s hand, hitting the ground with a rustle. Ikeeriot tripped the young man, who was still halfway into his cartwheel. "No more for now. You need to practice with those on your level," Ikeeriot said gently, helping the young man up. He patted him on the shoulder. "You’ll be fine. Follow the regimen Narsayl sets up for you," Narsayl cast Ikeeriot a surprised glower at him at this, "He’ll set you up. Anyone else?" Ikeeriot asked, turning his head to regard the rest of the circle. Anduil Siron clapped his hand once and the group began to disperse. Sha’dowa the Noghri and Toba and Barabel gave careful nods toward Ikeeriot and left with the rest, leaving Narsayl, Anduil and someone Ikeeriot didn’t recognize, alone. "Notify me next time you’re going to institute something like that, will you?" Narsayl started. Ikeeriot frowned but nodded. "What are we so busy with that we can follow a simple exercise regimen?" "We’re just starting out on Xolatis, Ikeeriot." Narsayl said, sighing. "We need to make connections here now or we might never get the connections we need to proceed with the political battles that are going to take place." Ikeeriot rolled his eyes openly. "You leave that political stuff between you and Anduil," he looked at Anduil, who was smiling. Then he looked to their apparent visitor and bowed slightly. "Who’s our visitor?" The man, a good deal older then them all with graying hair and traceable wrinkles here and there, extended a hand. "Gallar Xyan. I’m here to help with building some kind of base." Ikeeriot gave the man a thoughtful once over and smiled. Spies might be everywhere on Xolatis, but if one had discovered the Canyon Oasis that Ikeeriot had selected as their new base of operations, then they would have already reported back to Lord Darchind and the whole thing would have been over. No, this isn’t a spy, the Force told him. Ikeeriot looked around and nodded back to Gallar. "Were you a Jedi, or an architect?" "A Jedi but I had a deep interest in old Jedi ruins dating back to—." Gallar started. He cut himself off. "If you don’t need my help, then I’ll be happy to leave." He started to turn to walk away. "No, no." Ikeeriot said. "I’m sorry, we’re all a bit . .paranoid these days. Too many things to worry about in too little a space, I think." Ikeeriot felt a pang of memory in one of his old Master’s sayings. "We could use someone to construct us a base, although I’m not sure if it will be permanent." Gallar turned with to regard Ikeeriot with a wry smile. "Practice makes perfect." "That it does." Ikeeriot nodded. "Anduil, you want to take him for a look-see around our little oasis?" Anduil nodded down the slope towards the pool of water at Gallar and the aged Jedi complied by walking in the direction. Ikeeriot gave Anduil back Alec Uban’s white lightsaber and started back into the jungle. "I have to be getting back now. I know Valecka checks the holo-logs and I should already be back to my place." Narsayl nodded to the lightsaber handed to Anduil. "She keeping you on a short leash?" With a sarcastic smile Ikeeriot nodded and chuckled. "You could say that." "Be careful." Narsayl remarked. "Oh, why Narsayl, just because you said so, I will." Ikeeriot said with a roll of the eyes. His face became more serious for just a moment before turning back into the jungle. "May the Force be with you." "And you, Iker." Narsayl said. Anduil nodded to his friend, silent as he was when he was thinking about something. "Anduil?" Narsayl asked him after Ikeeriot had gone. Narsayl whistled and waved a hand in front of Siron’s face. "You there, buddy?" Anduil shook his head and the daze came off of him. "I’m fine." Short leash, he thought about the saying and filed it away in his head. Something is wrong there, he thought. "Just what I’m afraid of," he mumbled. He walked slowly down the slope to meet up with Gallar. The crimson blades crossed and the force of the swipe sent toward Ikeeriot by his Sith Master, Valecka sent him reeling backward. Ikeeriot began to bring his red training lightsaber up to guard but saw the small annoyance on Valecka, so he replied with a swift strike at her legs, making her jump over his blade and take a stab at his shoulder, which he easily ducked under and then elbowed her in her back. She grunted but lifted her hand out in the air and threw an invisible wall of the Force at Ikeeriot which sent him into the air. With a crack, Ikeeriot hit the wall of the courtyard and dropped to the ground. He felt the individual blades of grass sticking out of the cracked walkway sticking into his bearded cheek and just as Valecka thrust her lightsaber toward his neck he brought up his own and parried the move. He kicked the legs out from under her, flooring her in a blurry move of his muscular leg. Her back cracked against the ground and he smiled, kneeling over her and holding his red blade inches from her face. "Good." She breathed. There was a hint of that look of recognition in her eyes that Ikeeriot had washed from her head all those nights ago on Tatooine, but this was a shrewder, plainer version of it. She didn’t recognize him, she recognized the power inside him. A slow clapping came from behind them as Ikeeriot shut off his lightsaber and a chill went down his spine. Still kneeling over Valecka’s stomach, he clipped the lightsaber to his belt and stood up, wiping his brow free of sweat. He gave her a hand but she declined, thoroughly disheveled by their visitor’s appearance. "Lord Darchind, I meant to come to you when you wanted me, is there something—?" "Please, Valecka, if I wanted to speak with you, don’t you think I would find you?" Lord Darchind interrupted her. "I see you’ve brought us a new Initiate . ." Lord Darchind said. Ikeeriot could immediately feel the Dark Force presence climbing up his back and in between his shoulder blades, setting off his own danger sense. He tried to calm it and realized he had it under control for the most part. Ikeeriot turned and regarded Lord Darchind. The Sith Lord didn’t look any different from when they’d fought in his throne room—the same figure shrouded by the black cloak. Ikeeriot fell to one knee and bowed his head deeply, letting his presence be out-shadowed by the Lord’s. "Please, you’ve no need to bow before me," Lord Darchind snapped. "If Valecka is your Master, then bow to her." Ikeeriot stood, said no words but nodded to the Sith Lord, turned and bowed to Valecka. She flashed him a nervous smile. "Lord Darchind, I was going to tell you that I brought him from Tatooine, but the circumstances under which I found him . .were not the best." Lord Darchind stared at her, silent. "He saved my life. He used Force Lightning as though he’d been trained, and sure enough, before he’d been on Tatooine, he had left the Jedi Order." Valecka said. A slow nod this time, but no words from the Sith Lord. "I was," Valecka was looking for the right words. She couldn’t coat it nicely. "I was embarrassed and . . disgraced." She looked at the ground. Lord Darchind shook his head. "I should strike you down for lying to me." "Take a step at her and I’ll strike you down," Ikeeriot hissed, feeling his mouth speak for him, his mind flailing against the words. Clasping his white hands together slowly, Lord Darchind laughed. "You have a loyal Apprentice, Valecka. However there is a thin line between loyalty and obsession." "Jedi and Sith skirt that line alike," Ikeeriot answered. "We Sith do not need to worry about it though—we are more powerful because of our differences between us and the Jedi." "So it is us, now, hmm?" Lord Darchind growled. "A moment before you were ready to dethrone me." "Sith do what is necessary." Ikeeriot answered. "You think you are a Sith already then?" Lord Darchind wondered aloud. "Yes." Ikeeriot answered. "Good," Lord Darchind sneered from behind his hood. "We shall see. We shall see." .10 Voskar Seknem stood atop his Basilisk War-droid and felt it’s engines warm beneath the bug-like wings stretched out to the sides of the crustacean-looking war mount. Two robotic arms stretched out from beneath the small turbines on the one-manned vehicle and clicked on the hangar floor as it started to walk semi-intelligibly toward the opening leading out into the black. When he was on the war mount, Seknem felt at his peak. Here there would be no orders, no comments from Darchind, no interruptions, save for the familiar heat and noise of the lasers inset to the mount’s front. "Do not open fire until I give the command," he said, clicking on the intercom inside his Mandalorian armor helmet. A chorus of: "Yes sir!" Answered him and made his neck tingle with anticipation. Seknem and his men were taking it upon themselves to take control of the ship named: Incinerator. If everything went according to plan, a shot wouldn’t have to be fired and they could take the ship with minimal casualties, because everyone on Xolatis knew that Lord Darchind wanted as many craft whole as possible. As the vacuum invaded the hangar bay and Mandalorian soldiers started to filed out on their mounts into space, Seknem thought idly: is this who we are to be for the rest of days? Servants to the Sith? A shiver went down his spine. Hopefully not—but now is not the time. Now is conquest and death to those Jedi. Kill them all. Then, he and his Mandalorian brothers were bursting out in space, barreling straight toward the Incinerator, four hundred strong. It went, as Mandalorians sometimes said, without a Gnort in the in the cogs. An hour crawled on and afterward, Seknem was back aboard Mandalore’s Hammer, escorting Captain Erad Katoor through the bridge toward Lord Darchind. As curious as the man’s demeanor seemed to Seknem, the Mandalorian couldn’t blame the crew of the man’s ship for turning on him and giving him to he and the other shock troops Darchind had sent. "Get your hands off me you metal covered bafoon!" The man with the slicked back, jet-black hair spat at one of Seknem’s men venomously. Joran, the man who Captain Katoor had obviously just angered, was about to snap the man’s neck when Seknem raised his hand and flapped it, shaking his head. There wasn’t an audible sigh from Joran, but Seknem knew the man too long to know that he wasn’t doing it beneath the helmet. Just as long as it stays there, Voskar Seknem thought. "You!" Seknem yelled at their prisoner. "Shut up or I’ll drink my daily gallon of blue milk from your HEAD!" For a moment, it seemed as the Captain would comply. Then Captain Katoor did something Seknem would come to detest. He laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a rapturous laugh that wasn’t unlike that of Darchind’s. The realization that the man was insane came to Seknem fairly quick. He had to be. Otherwise, he was the most pompous man he’d ever met—and that was coming from a Mandalorian. Lord Darchind waited in his floating chair while his legs dangled to the floor, his hands clasped on one another and set on his lap. Seknem hated how quiet that man could be almost as much as he hated the other man’s laughing. "Stop it!" Lord Darchind snapped. Erad Katoor’s laughter died down to a murmur and Lord Darchind began to speak. "You’ve answered the call to help Xolatis in it’s war against the Republic, but now that you are here, you think differently?" Erad shrugged. "I think it was probably a decision I made out of blind passion. It runs in my family." Shaking his head and speaking so softly that Seknem could barely hear him, Darchind replied, "I do not doubt this." Still shaking his head, Darchind pointed out of the Bridge and spoke clearly: "To the brig with him. Don’t starve him, but wait until you would think starving might start. Then give it to him in portions. Small portions." "Oh you’re big and you’re bad!" Erad shouted as he was carried away by the two flanking Mandalorian warriors. "I’ll get you for this, Darchind! Mark my words! You haven’t seen the last of me!" "On the contrary, Katoor, I believe I have." Darchind breathed. He turned to Seknem and nodded. "There were no casualties and none of the Incinerator was damaged." Seknem said, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Good." Darchind said. "What of our ship building process?" "The flagship? It’s only been a few hours, how should I know—?" Seknem started. "How long? I don’t care how insufficient the information is, I just want to have a time table." Seknem shrugs. The words that came to minds were less then savory for the Sith Lord in front of him, but Voskar wasn’t going to start pushing this one’s buttons. "I’d say three months, but I’m no tech." Lord Darchind narrowed his eyes behind the black hood and inhaled sharply, exhaled slowly. "This will be well. Can you prepare your warriors in the etiquette of commanding the ships we will have by then?" Seknem adjusted his posture to a rigid form and inquired, "Why would we need to do that? I was under the impression that I and my men would be leading the attack on Coruscant’s ground when we arrive?" Lord Darchind nodded and waved his hand, calming the Mandalorian but a little. He means to demean us even more—Seknem began to think. He clenched his fist. "I assure you, Seknem, you will be in the attack. However I do not have sufficient personnel at this moment to control all the ships we will undoubtedly have in flux by said time. I need your men to learn how to crew the ships properly or the destruction of the Republic will be but an oasis beyond a mirage." For all Darchind’s flashy vocabulary, Seknem would have accepted an answer like this in lesser words. Seknem cleared his throat again. "Very well." "I need to be planet side for an open forum debate soon." Lord Darchind started slowly. "I would like to have you and two of your men handpicked by you to accompany should anything . .happen." "You think that there may be more Revolutionaries that we haven’t rooted out? Perhaps we should do another senor sweep of the jungle—." Seknem started. "No. It is something else. Just beyond the mirage . ." Lord Darchind muttered. "In any event I am thoroughly prepared but I would air on the side of caution since my scuffle with those Jedi. If the Order notices them gone for reasons other then the war, they might come slinking in the shadows like a Defel." "As you wish." Seknem said, nodding. He could get behind a man who was cautious, but not scared. From everything that Seknem had seen of Lord Darchind however, this Sith Lord had nothing to fear from anyone. "What of your intuition? Is there something more then we see afoot? Perhaps with the woman?" Lord Darchind snorted. "Hardly—young woman . ." His attention seemed to turn inward. "Had I a position to promote you to from your current one Seknem, I would." Lord Darchind said. His red eyes were glowing from behind the darkness. "Should I take this as a compliment, Darchind?" Seknem asked, confused but able. "Certainly." Lord Darchind. He laughed maniacally. Ikeeriot sniffled and thought in retrospect that Autumn on Xolatis was an insufferable time. Pollen spores were being released by many of the jungle’s native plants, which Ikeeriot was reacting horribly too. Never in his life had he been so prone to something like this—he’d gone on a few field missions with Uban, but this was nothing compared to what they’d experienced. All he could do was try and take the stuff and breath it in, in time hopefully creating an immunity to the stuff with the Force as a supplement. Nearing the jungle cliff that he and Anduil Siron remembered very well, he heard something in the underbrush snap. He whirled, thinking feverishly that all his plans might have been flushed away if he’d picked up a follower from the Sith Brotherhood. He had enough to worry about with Valecka without having to think about anyone else. These days she was growing more his friend then Master, and Ikeeriot could tell quickly where she thought the relationship was going. It bothered him. Not only because it was true, but because for some time he’d tried to stop himself from reciprocating the affection. Now—he was in a crunch. Undoubtedly he’d have to tell the other Wraith in his Outcaste, and he wasn’t necessarily looking forward to being scolded once more by the arrogant Narsayl, whose information and advice flowed out of his mouth like a waterfall. Neither would he appreciate Anduil’s softer but more but surer disagreement with Iker’s conflict of interest. If it was anyone there who had a conflict of interest, it was Anduil. No longer a Jedi, and even when he had been a formal Jedi of the Order, the young man’s character ruled his every decision. He knew nothing of how to handle a title. For Ikeeriot, this wasn’t a cold judgement, it was the truth. It was one of the things that Ikeeriot found noble about Anduil—but one thing was for sure in this Xolatis situation: Nobility above all else would pay a heavy price if left unconcealed. Ikeeriot wasn’t at all sure if he wasn’t doing this to get revenge on Darchind. Vanquishing the Sith and earning revenge were one in the same, and now that he had the Force back on his side, he could do so unfettered. Ikeeriot hopped easily from the cliff and into the settlement below, seeing a dim campfire in the distance. When he arrived, he found a Mon Calamari healer, Anduil and Narsayl. "Greetings." Ikeeriot said, then he sneezed. "Not much better here, either." Anduil said, rubbing under his nose. "This is Elackiago Gilbis, a healer from the Order. When he heard our dire need for help, he came as fast as he could—." "Nice to meet you Elack." Ikeeriot interrupted. "I’ll value your membership to the Outcaste later." The Mon Calamari spoke not a word from his reddish-brown head, only swivelling his eyes exploratively to watch the environment as he nodded once. Narsayl was already frowning at Ikeeriot. "What? No warm greeting today?" Ikeeriot asked sarcastically. "We have to be going soon." Anduil said. "Soon." Narsayl reiterated. "I have some news—." Ikeeriot started. Anduil was already shaking his head slowly and worriedly. "You didn’t." "You’re right—I didn’t." Ikeeriot said. Just as Narsayl understood what they were speaking about, his face grew red with anger. "You weren’t supposed to be in this deep! I don’t even know why in the first place you WERE infiltrating the Sith Brotherhood! Is there any purpose of this, or are you just there for the girl now?" "Hold it—." Anduil bit out. It was too late though. Ikeeriot’s eyes flashed with a warning of anger. "Don’t you start with ME pal—no one’s holding a lightsaber to your head, you can get on out of here any time you want." "Still, you dodge the question!" Narsayl exclaimed. Ikeeriot was shaking his head, annoyed. "Look, it’s not like I’m in love with her—I’m fairly sure I can still make this arrangement work." "Without endangering the Outcaste?" Anduil asked. Ikeeriot nodded. "It’ll have to go that way. I—we can’t afford otherwise. If I can just make it into Darchind’s inner circle, I might be able to make an attempt at assassinating him myself. There will be time for Valecka later." "WHAT?!" Narsayl roared. "You can’t be serious! You cannot go against Lord Darchind by yourSELF!" "That’s ENOUGH!" Anduil yelled, planting himself in between the two Jedi Wraiths. "I want you to start walking into the capitol—I’ll catch up with you soon." He said to Narsayl. The other young man began to protest but Anduil flashed him a glare that sent him shuffling off into the jungle muttering. "Elack, I’m sorry you had to see us like this. We are usually more . . cooperative with the senior members of the Outcaste." Ikeeriot said. Elackiago bobbed his head easily, smiling the fishy smile. "I understand completely. However without argument, your management of this group would inevitably be moot. There should never be a total consensus." Anduil nodded thoughtfully, a little more sober of emotion now that Narsayl had gone. Ikeeriot saw it in his friend’s eyes. It was the same sober look that he’d seen in Anduil’s sad face when Orsin Beserek had died. "Please, excuse us, Elack. I’ll have to talk with you more another time, I regret my timing." Ikeeriot said. Elack bowed and clasped his flipper hands together while he did. He headed for the Canyon Oasis. "I understand that you think you can beat Darchind. I think I could beat him too, if the roles were reversed." Anduil began. "I know you could, Anduil. We both do." Ikeeriot replied hastily. "Good." Anduil said carefully. "You said something else though—something that disturbed me a little." "Before you—." Ikeeriot began. "Iker, hear me out." Anduil interjected. "Do you really believe that Valecka might be turned from the Dark Side?" His face wrinkled in annoyance at his friend’s sudden lost of trust in him, Ikeeriot nodded fervently. "Isn’t that what we’ve always been taught? No one is past redemption, Anduil." "What about Lord Darchind?" Anduil asked. "There are times for redemption, old friend. His time for that passed long ago." Ikeeriot said. Anduil nodded. "You’re right." He paused, ruffled his own unshaven beard and then his hair. "Is it her time then, Ikeeriot? Do you know for sure if her time for redemption hasn’t passed?" Ikeeriot shook his head. "There’s only one way to find that out, Anduil." "That’s exactly what I was afraid you were going to say." Anduil said, shaking his head comically. "Oh . .I have a bad feeling about this." "Where are you going now?" Ikeeriot ignored the rest. "Open forum debate. I am to help Jon Locke with the debate." "Out in the open?" Ikeeriot cringed. "I think it’s my turn to have the bad feeling. If your cover somehow gets blown . ." "Don’t worry. It won’t." Anduil assured his friend. Ikeeriot rolled his eyes. "Just as long as you know, I’m alright." They laughed, a thing that happened seldom anymore. "May the Force be with you, Iker." "May the Force be with you too, Anduil." Anduil arrived late with Narsayl to aid Locke, as it happened. Two balconies facing each other over a great plaza flooded with local Xolatians and other assembled immigrant species was the extent of the ‘open forum’ debate. The masses were squabbling in their assorted alien languages at a tone unbearable to anyone who didn’t have access to Force calming techniques. Anduil amended the though—or politicians. They can do just fine. They feed off of it even. Narsayl stood at Locke’s left side and at the man’s right was Anduil, hunching over the back of the chair and whispering calmly into the politician’s ear: "Have we anything to go on yet?" Locke shook his head, a little annoyed by Anduil’s voice. "I’m trying to listen to this ego-maniac talk—what good it will do us. He’s raving once again about the good of the people and how he plans to cleanse this place and any other to rid the world of Anarchy. It’s quite arbitrary, but as you can see, the crowd is eating this up." "Like Piranha Beetles to an open wound." Narsayl muttered in agreement. "—and quite frankly, it is an insult to think that I would do otherwise—the accusations of me bombing my own people’s capitol are outrageous and unfounded! There is no evidence toward the fact that the holovid feed was tampered with and there should be no suspicions of my truthfulness, either! What I am doing is for the good of Xolatis!" Lord Darchind cried out. The people beneath the balconies cheered and waved happily. Anduil shook his head sorrowfully. "The Dark Side clouds everything here." Locke ignored it and started to speak. "Is it out of the utmost respect and profound gratitude that I, speaker of all your opposition, commend you for your achievements thus far, however, the fact remains that you are gathering ships above orbit—." The crowd below looked up at the three figures, confused and their faces blank. Anduil tapped Locke on the shoulder and pointed outward. Narsayl slapped his hand onto his forehead and shook his head in raw disbelief and anger. "They’re publically censoring you, Locke." With an exhausted roll of the eyes Anduil sighed and put his hand on Locke’s shoulder. "Just think of what to say. I may be able to pick up on it and make it louder through the Force." "Isn’t that dangerous?" Narsayl ventured nervously. "It’s the only option left." Anduil snapped. He took a deep breath and began to bellow with the Force behind his voice, trying as hard as he could to try and make it look like nothing more then confidence and stage presence. "Since your leader or head of state or whatever he wishes to be called does not want us to tell you there are ships orbiting the planet, I thought I might direct your attention to his alleged intentions with which he wants to use the ships for!" "According to reliable sources, he is planning to form his own armada, space-worthy by any means." Anduil said. "What could he want to do with such a force, citizens?" The people beneath on the plaza turned their attention back to Lord Darchind, who was sitting, stunned by the turn of events. "Just keep them having to draw their own answers and it doesn’t look as though we know as much as we do." Narsayl said, amazed. "Brilliant." The feeling of victory was fleeting at best. Lord Darchind returned Anduil’s confident smile and his voice boomed likewise: "We’ll now open up the floor for citizen questions." He said. "Just terrific." Anduil mused. "We’re going to try a new exercise tonight." Valecka said. "Sit down." Ikeeriot complied, sitting with his legs bent together like a pretzel. Valecka sat right up against him, her knees touching his. Their eyes met and she spoke. "This is a technique Lord Darchind taught me to use. It strengthens the senses by letting one another feel what the other is sensing." Ikeeriot nodded. They’d been sparring for hours, and the sun had gone done a good while ago. The crimson of their blades still plagued his nightmares as well as daydreams, and now the distant, familiar hum was still echoing in his mind. "It’s just like meditation—but stronger." She said. "Put your hands out." Ikeeriot narrowed his eyes. "Why?" "The Brotherhood of the Sith requires it of you," Valecka replied dryly. "Just do it. It makes sense when it happens." Ikeeriot sighed. He held his hands out flat and she immediately put her palms against his. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Now." She commanded. He did the same, letting the Force flow through him in the cheap, tawdry-angry way that he’d conceived the Dark Side to be. "No." She said. "Like you would use the Force. The Dark Side is not evil—it is power." Ikeeriot took another breath and surrendered himself completely to the Force. Suddenly he was awash in a flooded river—so many emotions, thoughts, feelings pulsing against him and then inside him and reverberating against his insides. "J-j-j-ust like thi-s-s-s." she said. He was vacantly aware that a stream of uncolored Force power was swirling around them in whirlwind, whipping their hair and cloaks about in the current. He saw memories after that—and not his. A little girl with her parents, too old to be submitted regularly for training at the Jedi Temple—younglings were usually taught from infancy, but this little girl was at least a toddler. Holding the hands of the two parents, the little girl swayed from leg to leg of her parents, toddling up the great steps of the Jedi Temple. Flash. A girl—the girl, years later, wearing a helmet and holding the Jedi training lightsaber tentatively in her grip, trying to see through the helmet rather then intuit through the Force. She was hit with another training lightsaber and she fell to the ground, holding the burnt arm and crying. Flash. A young woman, obviously Valecka now, perhaps a few years before the present day, kneeling at the dead body of a Kel Dor Jedi Master. His body fading from view behind a veil of blurry water, seeping down from the eyes . . Ikeeriot felt his own images and memories whipping around him, soaring high about them both and expanding into the same flash-separated sequences. No! He thought urgently. If she FINDS OUT! His eyes bulged and he was back ‘awake’ staring into the wide-eyed into Valecka’s eyes. Did she see Uban? He thought. By the Force what have I done? Did she see them all? "Iker?" She asked. Her voice was trembling and now her features were melting into a mixture of pain and revelation. "Are you?" "I was." Ikeeriot tried to amend. "You were them?" She sneered, not knowing what else to say. "No, no. Maybe then, but not now, Valecka. The Jedi I left with is back on Xolatis and he is in force. Believe me when I say this—you and I can destroy them and alleviate the final Jedi threat." Valecka’s eyes seemed to recognize the hope in Ikeeriot’s own eyes. "You really are with us? You’ve turned fully and completely?" Ikeeriot nodded. "I have. When I nearly killed Darchind with Force Lightning—I could never walk away from that power. Not even if that meant having to act as though I was with the other Jedi again. I am committed to the Sith." "The Sith." Valecka repeated, somehow disappointed. Clenching his teeth, Ikeeriot felt a pit in his stomach appear. A strand of Valecka’s blonde hair obscured her face, dividing it down the middle, one half shadow, one half light. He leaned forward the best he could while sitting as he was and pressed the strand away to the side of her head, revealing her face only swathed in shadows. His immediate disappointment was covered by her lips brushing against his, then she was kissing him. Clapping and laughing. Maniacal laughing. "Good!" Lord Darchind laughed from behind them. "Ahahaha! Good! What a foolish little Jedi you are, Ikeeriot!" Valecka started at the laugh and was immediately at her feet. Ikeeriot, sensing a similar need to stand did so slowly, kneeling first and then standing rigidly. "It is true, Lord Darchind. Your planet is facing a resurgence of Revolutionaries and Jedi. If you do not take what information I have seriously, you will be knee deep in a Republic sponsored insurrection." Lord Darchind kept on laughing. It died down eventually. "If I were to believe you? What evidence do you have of this?!" "I can hand you Anduil Siron and his Jedi Outcaste on a royal platter." Ikeeriot said. He narrowed his eyes and smiled. COMING SOON: Resurgence 1-5 and the conclusion in 6...