Star Wars: The Old Republic: The Former Legacy: Chapter 3: Too far, not far enough

Stikks beamed with utter delight as she held up her carry bag to her face in order to inspect the various small components she had purchased. Walking beside her, Lexiine watched her companion enjoy the spoils of their day out together; holding her hand out to shade her eyes from Coruscant’s setting sun.

“The only other time I’ve seen that look on your face is when I caught you eating handfuls of Cribblycrunch in your quarters,” she teased the small Cathar.

Stikks’ ears perked up as she lowered the carry bag. “I didn’t think you were on the ship at the time,” she confessed.

“You seem to do a lot of strange things when you think I’m not on the ship,” Lexiine told Stikks with an amused look on her face, nudging the smaller woman slightly with her elbow.

Stikks looked down in embarrassment, holding the carry bag in front of her with both hands as she walked, her knees knocking against the bag gently with each step. Lexiine snickered, she simply could not help but tease Stikks at every opportunity, it was almost too easy, but still so satisfying.

These quiet moments were rare for Lexiine, spending her free time simply being a person rather than a soldier. It almost felt like some kind of fantasy life, an escape from the harsh reality of a war being fought in a faraway place. She especially liked the chance it gave her to get out of her usual battledress and into something a lot more casual.

Lexiine smirked to herself, there were many who scoffed at her choice in battledress, not being able to see the advantages in wearing such little armour. Had she not killed every one of those people, they would be even more shocked to see how little she wore when given

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the chance to wear civilian clothing.

The two women continued down the mostly empty street as Lexiine eyed the few shadier characters who still lurked about. Lexiine had spent her teenage years homeless on these streets after surviving the invasion of Coruscant thirteen years ago. The Old Galactic Market sector was definitely not the safest part of Coruscant, so much so that Lexiine took it upon herself to escort Stikks as she browsed the black market wares. However, there was a time when this place was much worse.

Thirteen years ago, when the Treaty of Coruscant was signed and the Imperial occupation forces left this world in ruin, the Republic government began rebuilding priority sectors of Coruscant in order to get the capital’s key economic and military assets working again. However, this meant that lower priority areas like this were simply left to rot. The refugees created by the invasion were desperate for any form of aid; many of them had lost their homes, their livelihoods and their loved ones during that catastrophe.

These people had once lived comfortable lives as respectable citizens of the Republic. However, after what they endured under the Imperial occupation then watching their government all but abandon them, many of them started to riot and form uprisings. Criminal factions began to form due to the resulting chaos and these once peaceful streets fell under their rule with each faction carving out their own territory.

Lexiine had spent most of those early days alone, starving, afraid and weak. The streets had turned into a warzone with gangs and rioting refugees clashing with members of the Coruscant Security Force who were trying to pacify them. The entire place reeked of desperation and Lexiine was no different from everyone else.

She was fourteen when she found herself covered in another person’s blood with a sharp piece of shrapnel in her hand she had used as a shank. She stared down at the blood-soaked body of the man she had killed, her eyes wide and unblinking.

He had approached her with a warm smile and a kind voice,

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offering food with the promise that if she were to come with him, she would be able to lead a comfortable life provided she did some “special” things for him and his friends.

She almost accepted his offer, she was so hungry, so weak, she was close to going with him, but she hesitated and pulled back, and when she did, the man grabbed her by the arm.

She panicked.

She could not remember exactly what happened next, it all became a blur of red and screams. When she finally got back to her senses, the man lay in front of her in a pool of his own blood and the food he had offered littered the ground next to him. She was shaking, breathing heavily, but she was able to catch her breath enough to pick up as many pieces of food as she could and ran.

She ran as hard as she could and as far as she could in her undernourished state.

She remembered crawling through a small hole leading into an old bombed out building she had found through sheer luck. Kneeling down, she dropped the pieces of food she carried in front of her and looked down at her hands. They were covered in blood, no, not just her hands, the sleeves of her ragged clothing, her arms, her legs, her entire body. She was drenched from head to toe in that man’s blood.

Trying not to panic, she carefully tried to peel the clothes from her body as the wet material stuck to her skin. It was no use; she panicked and started to rip them off, whimpering until she was finally free of her blood-soaked clothing. She sat silently for a moment in her underwear, letting her skin breathe.

She sighed, relieved to find that the blood had not soaked all the way through to her clothes and onto her skin. She picked up her ripped up clothing and wiped the drying blood off her hands on the few patches of material still dry on the inside. She was not able to clean them off completely, but it was enough.

She picked out a piece of fruit and started eating it, barely taking breaths between large desperate bites, swallowing it down before she could even taste it, the juices flowing down her chin. She

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used what was left of the core and rubbed her hands with it, wetting them enough to wipe her face clean.

She then took a piece of bread, this time she tried to eat it slowly, to enjoy the moment, but she could not. As she took the first bite out of the bread, all she could taste was the saltiness of the tears streaming down her face. She had killed someone for this food, to protect herself, but worse still, she realised she may end up killing someone else if something like this were to happen again.

Lexiine shook her head, clearing her thoughts of those memories.

Stikks looked up at Lexiine. “What’s wrong?” she asked, worried by the grim expression on the taller woman’s face.

“Nothing,” Lexiine assured her companion. “I was just thinking how it’d be nice to get a drink after all this shopping.”

As the sun slowly fell behind the mega structures on the horizon, lighting the sky ablaze in a fierce shade of orange, Lexiine noticed they had arrived at the front of a familiar cantina she frequented many times before.

“Speaking of which,” Lexiine smiled, “it’s time we took a detour.”

Stikks gazed at the bright mesmerising sign above the entrance of the cantina that welcomed visitors to come in and have a drink. The sign was written in a jumble of different languages, Basic, Huttese, and a few others she did not recognise.

Stikks grimaced. “Sorry, boss, I think I’ll just head back to the ship,” she told Lexiine as she sniffed the strange alcoholic smells coming from the cantina.

“What, why?” Lexiine protested.

Stikks looked up at Lexiine. “These places are scary,” she complained, “and every time I go into one of these cantinas, there’s always some weird guy watching me because I’m a Cathar.”

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” Lexiine told Stikks, putting her hand on her companion’s shoulder and shaking her gently. “Have a drink with me; we’ll have some fun tonight, just the two of us. No

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one’s going to hurt you when they see you’re with me.”

“I’m not worried about people hurting me,” Stikks told the taller woman as she shook her head. “I’m worried you’re going to hurt someone else.”

Lexiine paused. “Plus,” Stikks continued, “I really want to go back to the ship and start working on a few ideas I have for these new parts. You don’t have to worry about me either; the taxi pad is close by.”

Stikks held up the carry bag to her face and gave Lexiine an adorable little smile as her eyes beamed up at the taller woman.

Lexiine let out a heavy sigh, defeated by her companion’s playful disposition. “Fine, I guess it’s just me then. Go back to the ship, have fun with your little toys. I’ll just have to drink enough for the both of us.”

“Sorry,” Stikks said to Lexiine as she began to walk away.

Lexiine watched as her companion took a few steps then stopped and ran back to her, giving her a surprise hug. The taller woman stood awkwardly, holding her arms halfway in the air as the small Cathar hugged her tight.

“Okay?” Lexiine said slowly as she looked around, hoping that no one was seeing this display.

Stikks finally let go of Lexiine and looked up at her. “Don’t hurt anyone.”

Stikks was not smiling as Lexiine had expected, rather the Cathar had a worried look on her face as she quickly scurried off toward the taxi pad.

The Ravage Squad commander stood there for a moment trying to interpret the events that had just played out with a quizzical look on her face. Eventually, she shook her head slightly, giving up on trying to figure out her strange companion’s behaviour as she walked into the cantina to get herself a well-earned drink, or two, or more.

Lexiine stepped through the open doorway and passed the security field that actively scanned her for any of the more dangerous weapons people may be carrying. While blasters and other firearms

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were a common sight inside cantinas such as this, with the expectation that no one actually use them, most cantina owners frowned upon poisons of any kind. This was purely because it was bad for business to have a customer dropping dead from their drink swimming with something a lot more toxic than what they had originally ordered.

Several of the cantina customers of various species eyed her as she approached the bartender, a fat, green Twi’lek who had one of his tentacle-like lekku draped around his shoulder, the other hanging freely from the back of his head. The Twi’lek gave Lexiine an acknowledging nod. They had not spoken much despite Lexiine frequenting this place often during her off hours, but he did recognise her.

“What’re ya buyin’?” the Twi’lek asked with a gruff tone, all business.

“Meltdown,” Lexiine told the bartender, shuffling around in the small pocket of her short shorts, presenting him with the credits she found. “In fact, mix me up a large one with a glass and give it to me over at that booth.”

Lexiine pointed at a booth further into the cantina as the bartender eyed her for a moment.

“Yeah,” he said simply.

With the eyes of several of the cantina customers still tracking her, Lexiine made her way to the booth and sat down. With a soft sigh, she slumped back and crossed her legs up on the table, resting one hand on her thigh and the other holding the back of her head as she stared out the small window inside the booth at the endless traffic flying by.

Moments later, a blue-skinned, petite Twi’lek woman approached with a glass and mixer. Lexiine gazed silently at the woman who glanced back at her with a smile as she set the glass down on the table next to Lexiine’s bare legs along with the mixer.

With a soft smile, Lexiine thanked the petite woman who hurried back to the bar. Picking up the mixer, she poured herself a

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drink into the glass, a concoction of Spice Liqueur and lum ale that, when blended together, created an interesting blend of sweet frothy liquid with a sharp spicy aftertaste.

Lexiine leaned back, enjoying her drink quietly as she watched the scenery outside the window.

Unfortunately, the moment was unceremoniously interrupted by the shadow of someone standing over her. Finishing off her glass, Lexiine poured herself more of the frothy liquid from the mixer as the tall Rattataki man invited himself to sit down at her booth.

“What, did you forget to get dressed?” the Rattataki asked in a condescending tone, a visible smirk on his face as Lexiine watched him from the corner of her eye, still facing the window.

The grey-skinned Rattataki’s smirk vanished after a moment of waiting, not amused by Lexiine’s attempt to ignore him.

“I’m talking to you, human.”

Lexiine continued to ignore the bald man, taking another gulp of her drink as her only response and setting it back down next to her crossed legs still resting on the surface of the table.

The Rattataki looked visibly annoyed, unable to hide his emotional state. “So, you’re her, the naked smuggler.”

The dark-haired woman cocked an eyebrow and gave the Rattataki a sidewards glance. “Naked smuggler?” she asked.

The Rattataki grinned, finally getting her attention. He leered at Lexiine’s bare legs on the table, his eyes tracing along to her thighs then up her body, from her navel to her tube top covered breasts, finally up to Lexiine’s disapproving face staring straight at him. He grinned back at her, not hiding the fact that he was ogling her body.

“Yeah, they say you’re some hotshot smuggler who’s always half-dressed, one of the Republic’s loyal pets, but you look more like a harlot to me,” he told her with an obnoxious laugh. “I’ve seen Twi’lek slave girls wearing more than you are right now.”

Lexiine remained silent, opting to ignore him again, shifting her gaze back out the window.

Leaning back in the seat opposite Lexiine, the Rattataki

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continued to taunt her. “I bet you make a lot more money on your knees than you do smuggling cargo. Though, I’m sure your price is cheap by the looks of you,” he quipped, taking out a single credit chip from his pocket and laying it on the table.

“How about it? A nice shiny credit for a night of fun with yours truly. I’ll go easy on you until you start to like it, then you won’t be able to stop yourself from howling like an Anoobas in heat.”

As the Rattataki chuckled, Lexiine looked down at his hand pressed flat on the table with two fingers still pressed down on the credit chip. “They left out the most important thing to remember about me,” she told the Rattataki, adding a hint of seduction to her voice.

Interested in hearing what Lexiine had to tell him, he leaned forward. “Yeah?”

With a single swift motion, Lexiine unsheathed the vibroblade hidden in her boot and stabbed it down hard into the Rattataki’s hand. Acting on reflex, he tried to reel back as he yelped in shock and pain, only to be stopped by his hand still stuck to the table. The knife had stabbed straight through his hand and was impaled into the table.

“I have a temper,” Lexiine informed the Rattataki, still adding a feigned hint of seduction to her voice, mocking the larger man.

Gritting his teeth, the Rattataki got to his senses, pulling the vibroblade out of his hand and stumbling back to his feet. “You damned schutta!” he growled the Twi’lek insult at Lexiine, clenching his bloodied hand tightly as he gestured the vibroblade threateningly toward her. “I’ll bleed you for that!”

Still seated with her legs on the table, Lexiine put both hands behind her head and looked up at the Rattataki. “You’re going to want to give back my vibroblade,” she warned, looking down at the bladed weapon clenched the man’s left hand.

The Rattataki became incensed at the nonchalant manner in which Lexiine was dealing with him. He clenched both hands tighter and took a step toward Lexiine, determined to teach her a lesson.

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Without warning, the vibroblade sparked with a high-pitched whine and a small flash of light blinded him for a second. All of a sudden, he felt a sharp searing pain engulfing his left hand. In his moment of confusion, he looked down to inspect his hand only to find a cauterised stump. The Rattataki fell forward onto his knees, screaming in agony, using his bloodied hand to hold onto the burned wrist just below the stump.

Lexiine picked up her glass and the mixer from the table, swinging her legs across it and letting her feet land on the floor as she put the glass and mixer back down. She stood up straight with a hand on her hip and glanced down at the Rattataki kneeling on the floor.

“Hey,” she called out to the Rattataki who was too busy clutching his hand in pain to notice. “I’m talking to you, Rattataki.”

His head snapped up, his eyes that were moments ago, lecherously eyeing her body, were now filled with fear. He used his shaking, bloody hand to rummage into his pocket once more and fumbled out a mess of credit chips that he spilled out onto the ground in front of him.

“Wait, I apologise—”

Lexiine kicked him hard in the gut with her heavy boot, making him reel over with a new source of pain to deal with, his body now laying on the floor.

“It’s too late for that,” she told the broken man. “You don’t get to decide when to walk away from this.”

As he lay on the ground, she grabbed the man by the back of his head, lifting him up high enough to get his head above the table and then proceeded to slam it down on the edge of the table repeatedly. She did not stop, she kept lifting his head up and slamming it back down, his face covered in the blood spewing from his broken nose, one slam after another, she kept going.
Then she stopped. She wanted to keep going, she felt her blood boiling over, wanting to kill this man, but the words Stikks had spoken to her earlier rang in her ears.

“Don’t hurt anyone.”

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Lexiine dropped the Rattataki’s head and it thumped to the floor with the wet sound of blood. He lay there unconscious as she turned around and headed back toward the bar. The Twi’lek bartender gave her an unimpressed look while wiping clean a large clear mug.

“Who’s gonna pay for this mess?” he asked her.

Lexiine looked back at the Rattataki laying on the floor and gestured toward him with a thumb over her shoulder. “He’ll cover the bill,” she told him, “and the rest of my drinks for the night.”

The bartender looked over at the petite Twi’lek woman who had served Lexiine earlier and cocked his head over to the unconscious Rattataki. She understood and hurried over to the booth, collecting the credit chips that lay on the floor around the battered man.

“Gimme a bottle of Johrian whiskey and a shot glass,” Lexiine instructed the bartender. “Let’s see how many drinks I can get out of it before his money runs dry.”

As the bartender went to get her bottle and a shot glass, Lexiine sat down at the bar and looked around at the other customers. When she had entered the cantina, their collective eyes had been watching her, now they all seemed to be more interested in staring down at their drinks, trying not to draw her attention. Lexiine swivelled her bar stool back around to the bar and shook her head. The pretty boy SIS agent had told her earlier in the day to make her presence known, mission accomplished.

Lexiine stretched her arms out into the air, letting out a long, lethargic yawn before she began rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The room was dark and she still felt a bit dazed from her night of drinking, her head still cloudy and her mouth dry. She sat up in her bed slowly, looking down at her naked body as she started to wonder what she had done with her clothes.

In fact, she had not even bothered to get underneath the covers whenever it was she got back to the ship last night. With another lazy yawn, she swung her feet out to the side of her bed, planting them on

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the cold floor where she discovered her tube top lying next to her feet, but nothing else.

She blinked down at the tube top, leaning over to pick it up and stood up straight, stretching her muscles as she did. With her head still buzzing, Lexiine started to wonder what time it was and what time she even got back to the ship last night.

More importantly, why was the door to her quarters open?

“Exuberant salutations: Good Master, how delightful it is to witness your graceful rise out of unconsciousness this fine evening,” HK-51 suddenly spoke, bowing down exaggeratedly while standing in the doorway to her quarters. “I hope you achieved your sleep cycle efficiently.”

Lexiine must have still been half-asleep. “What?” she mumbled, squinting her eyes at the droid.

“Genuine reverence: Ah, I see you have yet to complete your dressing process,” he continued, “now the world can see your magnificence in all their glory, how wonderfully generous you are.”

Lexiine looked down at herself then back up at the assassin droid as she put on her tube top over her head, covering as much as she could with the only piece of clothing she had with her.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Lexiine asked, frowning at the droid’s strange behaviour.

“Delighted anticipation: I have gathered the rest of your clothing that you so expertly threw to the deck on your way to your quarters this morning in order to present them to you now,” the droid announced.

Without any explanation, HK-51 got down on one knee with its head lowered and arms extended, offering Lexiine’s clothes to her like some kind of peasant offering a trinket of gratitude to their monarch. Lexiine stared down at the droid, slowly taking her clothing items from it, not knowing what to think of this bizarre display.

“Am I still asleep? None of this seems right.”

HK-51 stood back up. “Soothing reassurance: You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Master. I joyfully waited at the

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entrance to your quarters for the duration of your slumber with your clothes at the ready just for this moment.”

With a pang of realisation, Lexiine’s head cleared up. She pushed past the assassin droid as she rushed to get dressed and confront the orchestrator of this waking nightmare.

“Stikks!” she called out. “What the hell did you do to HK-51?”

The door to Stikks’ quarters slid open and the Cathar poked her head out halfway. “What?” she asked innocently. “Do what to him?”

HK-51 turned to the Cathar who was still mostly hidden inside her quarters. “Cheerful greeting: Mistress Stikks, you’re looking as radiant as ever.”

Lexiine fiercely pointed at the assassin droid. “That! What the hell is that?”

Stikks finally stepped out of her quarters, pulling on her own ear. “I just wanted him to be nice to me,” she confessed. “I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

Lexiine glared at her subordinate in disbelief. “Nice? You’ve turned it into an assassin droid that sounds like its main functions are etiquette and protocol, and you thought I wouldn’t mind?”

The smaller woman took a step back into her quarters. “I don’t know,” she whined, “you did say you didn’t care what it thought as long as it still killed Imps.”

Lexiine gestured toward HK-51 with an open hand. “It’s supposed to intimidate our enemies, not offer them a hot cup of Jawa Juice.”

The assassin droids head snapped over to Lexiine. “Joyful service: If you would like, Master, I can initiate the brewing process of a fresh—”

“Shut up,” Lexiine cut him off.

Stikks started to fumble her words. “I—I just—”

Pointing a finger directly at Stikks, Lexiine glared at the Cathar. “Fix it,” she ordered.

Stikks sulked as she stepped out of her quarters again and walked toward HK-51. “Okay,” she told Lexiine, turning to the

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assassin droid. “Come on, HK; time to make you hate me again.”

Taking the assassin droid by the arm, Stikks led it down the hall to the personnel elevator.

HK-51 looked back at Lexiine. “Deep regret: Please accept my most humble apologies if I have caused you any inconvenience, Master,” he said, looking back over to Stikks, “and to you Mistress Stikks.”

Lexiine watched silently as the two descended down to the cargo bay below, HK-51 with its usual blank stare and Stikks still sulking beside him.

Not letting Lexiine think over what had just happened, a chirp sounded over the ship’s intercom. “Captain, we have received a coded transmission from General Garza,” Torbin’s voice informed her. “She has ordered us to leave Coruscant immediately and proceed to Carrick Station where we will receive an information package for a new mission.”

Lexiine fished a tiny communicator from the pocket of her short shorts and pressed the button with her thumb to activate the reply channel.

“Understood, I’ll head up to the cockpit in a few minutes.”

With a sigh, Lexiine shook her head and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe it stood there watching me sleep naked that entire time,” she breathed.

A second later, a confused voice spoke over the intercom. “Excuse me, Captain?”

“Ack, nothing!” Lexiine quickly pressed down on the communicator again to close the channel.

She leaned back on the wall behind her and looked up at the ceiling. This was probably the strangest start to the day she has had as the commander of Ravage Squad. Okay, maybe not the strangest after that baby Tauntaun incident, but she could not shake the feeling that things were slightly off.

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*   *   *

His boots thudded on the hard duracrete surface of the floor as he stepped heavily, leaning forward with his right hand firmly on his belt buckle, letting his left hand swing as he strode ahead into the cargo bay.

He had not intended to travel all the way down here into the pitiful depths of Nar Shaddaa, yet here he was, among the wretched filth. Ahead of him, the large cargo area was filled with durasteel crates, most of them were empty, forming a piled up mountain in an unused corner, and others lay haphazardly on the floor as various species of scavengers searched through them, looking for anything valuable.

Two days had passed since the incident, the Republic SIS vermin had already scurried in to cover their tracks, leaving the port open for these feculent worms to burrow their way in, further contaminating the scene.

Some of the scavengers looked up at the man, noticing his presence then going back to rummaging through the crates, uninterested in the stranger. Others, more aware of what this man actually was, cautiously moved away from him as he continued his menacing stride forward.

The lingering stench of death in the air was strong, he used his senses and let them guide him forward, ignoring the pathetic scavengers around him. Planting his feet firmly on the ground, he stopped and looked up at the large, open cargo bay doors that seemed to lead into a smaller auxiliary room.

He narrowed his dark eyes, focusing on the darkness within the room. He had arrived.

“Hey,” a strange voice spoke to him to his left, “you should move on, human, we’ve claimed what’s in there.”

The man ignored the stranger’s voice, still focused on the darkness beyond the large doorway before him. This was indeed the place he was looking for, the stench of failure was thick, and it

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sickened him.

The man stepped forward, only to be stopped by the palm of a large thick-skinned hand pressing into his bare chest. He looked up at the leather scaled Nikto who had stepped between him and his target. Judging from the garb worn by the Nikto thug, he was a slum dweller, most likely a lower level enforcer within one of the numerous gangs that ruled the slums of Nar Shaddaa.

The Nikto held a vibroblade up to the man’s throat. “You should have turned back, human,” the Nikto growled in an attempt to intimidate him.

A group of thugs emerged from around the stacks of crates scattered throughout the cargo bay and gathered around the man. The nearby scavengers stopped sifting through the crates as they became aware of the commotion, keeping their eyes on the Nikto holding his vibroblade to the man’s throat.

He was surrounded, many of the thugs brandished sharp blades while others carried blasters of various types. He sensed fifteen of them in total, not including the Nikto who waited for his comrades to get into position.

The Nikto bared his teeth, but before he could slash the blade across the man’s throat, he felt a sharp pain in his wrist and a sudden sound of a sharp snap as the vibroblade he held fell to the floor. He did not even have time to scream or call out to his comrades as he started to gurgle his own blood.

His comrades watched in horror as the man had grabbed the Nikto’s wrist with his left hand, snapping it back with only a flick of his thumb. Then, with his right hand, the man grabbed the Nikto by the throat and had ripped out the front of his leathery neck.

One of the thugs finally snapped back to reality. “Kill him!” he yelled at his comrades.

In an instant, the cargo bay erupted in blaster fire, signalling the scavengers who remained to flee, some still trying to carry the spoils that they had recovered. A few short moments passed before the thugs realised the man was still standing. In their rush to take

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him down, they had failed to notice that the man had used their Nikto comrade’s body as a shield, holding him up by his eviscerated throat.

The man threw the smoking carcass aside and reached out with the Force to take hold of the blasters that were used against him. A few of the thugs let go of their blasters, realising what was happening while others were thrown forward, still trying to hold on to their weapons. The man clenched his left fist, using his powers to crush the blasters into useless chunks as they floated in the air.

It was not over; a few of the thugs let out a collective, blood-curdling war cry and charged the man, their efforts in vain as the man reached out with the Force again with his right hand, grabbing the men with a Force grip by their throats. He clenched his hand, tightening his grip as the thugs rose into the air trying to grab at the invisible vice that held them around their necks, choking the life out of them slowly.

The man squeezed harder, with a wet squelch, the bodies of the thugs dropped to the ground with heavy splats, their blood painting the duracrete floor. The remaining thugs watched silently as the heads of their comrades still floated in the air. They realised, only too late, what they had gotten themselves into.

They had challenged a Dark Lord of the Sith, and now, they were going to die.

The few remaining thugs stared at the Sith, their eyes that were moments ago, watching him in contempt, were now filled with fear. They dropped their weapons and fled in vain, the Sith let go of the floating heads and used both hands to channel the energy required to move the chunks of durasteel he still had in his Force grip. The bodies of the fleeing men dropped to the floor along with the heads of their comrades as chunks of durasteel cut them all down one by one.

The large cargo bay fell silent, the thugs lay dead, their bodies mangled, littering the floor with various shades of blood from each species splattered across the durasteel crates around them.

With that minor distraction out of the way, the Sith turned back to the open doorway and stepped inside. With each step forward, he

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began to sense something strange, something unexpected. The strange presence he felt before him was not that of his apprentice, but of something else, something familiar.

The Dark Lord of the Sith stopped in front of a scorched area of duracrete, the place where his apprentice had been slain. Republic agents had already disposed of his body but the mark of his apprentice’s malice remained.

The Sith unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and sat down on the floor in front of the scorched mark. He set the lightsaber down in front of him, on top of the scorched patch of duracrete.

He had come here to see for himself how his apprentice had failed him, to witness for himself the moment that had led to his own downfall. Soon, the Emperor’s Wrath would descend down into the depths of this technologically rotting moon and kill him in this very spot.

He waited.

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