| Logs |
2002 June 06
| These Shattered Stars |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: These Shattered Stars Logs |
Chapter One, Part Three
Preparations are made quickly. Colburth helps to disguise Freyja and himself. Shortly, they are ready to depart, and it is just about mid-afternoon of the same day that the two Jedi and the Senatorial troubleshooter arrived on Marnaas. An unmarked, civilian landspeeder which has most certainly seen better days is brought out, and Kuuna details for the trio a roundabout way of getting into the spaceport, one that doesn't go straight from the monastery.
Freyja enjoys the disguising -- it's no worse, and promises to be a lot more interesting, than some of the dreadfully stuffy, political/diplomatic grand balls she'd been trotted out in, as the baron's eldest. She listens carefully to the directions, in case there's some emergency and she has to drive on the way back.
Freyja appears to be a tall, slender female Zabrak with dark skin and few tattoos yet. Her steady, often unblinking gaze is golden-eyed and impassive, while her sparse hair isn't even visible behind the horns -- the dark hood obscures most of her head as it is. She makes no wasted movements, standing with hands tucked into the leather belt of her sturdy black outer jacket. Her pragmatic clothing is as sturdy and no-nonsense as her species -- black leather gloves, snug leather breeches, and well-worn black leather boots.
Quiet says, "Let's just make a few discreet inquiries and head back... I don't think leaving the monastery unguarded for long is a safe course." Freyja nods to Quiet, smiling a bit, as she climbs into the dilapidated speeder.
Colburth nods, "I agree, Satau." He clambers into the speeder as well, leaving the driver's side for Quiet.
Quiet climbs into the driver's seat. "If we're ready, let's be on our way."
Quiet is a safe, if somewhat fast driver. He doesn't take any liberties with the controls of the heavily-used speeder, especially one with an unbalanced load. The trip into the spaceport is somewhat longer than it took to get from there to the monastery, considering Kuuna's "scenic route" instructions. The landspeeder slips into the streets from almost a quarter of the way around the spaceport from the monastery. Eventually, the landspeeder pulls in to the spaceport, and the sun has already started its final approach towards dusk. Freyja mentally reviews her notes... her Master feels it's sufficient that Colburth made her look like something other than the monastery's new master's Padawan. She's still Human-looking, relatively, with some small prosthetics that make her look rather unlike Humans, and more like a Zabrak. She has, however, careful instructions not to try chatting with any Zabraki... not that they're really a chatty sort of species anyway.
The spaceport is typical of thousands on other worlds, a large number of landing pits around a ring of commercial zones, then the central housing district, and finally, in the center, the administrative and judicial district. Colburth glances at Quiet. "Where are you going to be going first?" he mutters, himself looking very and reasonably convincingly Zabrak-like.
Quiet says, "The bar. Got to be some spacers and mercs there."
Freyja nods, "I'll hang around Quiet and be quiet, then, while he talks to folks... and you'll be our hidden backup, Knight Colburth?"
Colburth nods a little, grimacing as he leans back in the seat. "I'll watch the 'speeder. If you need me, comlink me or send notice to me... some other way. I won't be moving from this spot otherwise, unless I hear some fighting going on."
Freyja glances at Quiet. Unless the taciturn Human indicates otherwise, she'll nod agreement to Colburth. Quiet is watching the road. "That's fine. Keep your eyes open." Freyja nods and settles comfortably back in her seat, with a small grin. This being a Zabrak stuff is easy so far... just look as still-faced and quiet as Quiet, and she's doing great! Quiet pulls the speeder in on a public pad. "Let's get this done." Freyja hops lightly out of the speeder and follows Quiet.
Colburth nods. Meanwhile, what looks like one of the several spaceport cantinas appears on the left, tucked in between two landing pits. Judging by the numbers, this isn't too far from the pit where Master Hul-Shan was found, maybe a hundred or two meters. Freyja frowns slightly as she looks around, remembering that horrible flare of emotion and pain... then matches her stride to Quiet's. One problem at a time. Quiet says, "Looks like a likely spot. This one." He strides toward the cantina.
Inside the cantina, it is a fairly raucous din of a dizzying number of species. There tend to be only two, maybe three examples of any race, few if any recognizable. A couple of musicians play something tired but well-requested in a corner, while the bartender, a greasy Bothan exchanges pleasantries -- snarls, whoops, and other sounds, really -- with his clientele. The lighting is overall somewhat dim, conducive to the under-the-table deals and the less-than-legal transactions that one would expect to take place here. Freyja looks around emotionlessly, and sticks close to Quiet's left -- his off-hand side. Quiet moves toward the bar, and takes up a place at the end, waiting for the bartender to take note. The Bothan finishes dealing with his customer -- it's not clear if he's wishing them well or verbally kicking them out -- before ambling over to Quiet. "E cha koota?" he babbles. "What can I serve you?"
Quiet says, "Whatever you got on tap."
The Bothan seems to smile, "A being of risk-taking. Khassim Ploor Stout, coming up. How about you?" he asks Freyja.
Freyja raises one finger and murmurs, "Two."
This time it's clearly laughter. "Two who take risks! I'm a fortunate man tonight to have two such heroes in my establishment. Two it is. Shan't take long." The bartender returns with... something. The two tall, square glasses have seen better days, but are clean, and the concoction within is a clear, sparkling... purple. With a frothy green head. He stands there, grinning almost maniacally -- the Bothan canines don't make it any less creepy. "Two Khassim Ploor Stout. You won't find better on tap anywhere in the 'port."
Freyja watches impassively, then glances around again. A moment later it occurs to her there might be a good reason the bartender was talking about taking risks. There are an awful lot of species here... and her 'feeling' is that's quite enough for a problem, if someone really wants to make an issue over something. Quiet takes a long pull from his glass. "Nice head." Freyja eyes the drink thoughtfully, then pulls the glass over and inhales. Interesting scent, odd but interesting color... she tries a careful sip, still watching warily around herself. Quiet says, "Got quite a crowd here today."
The bartender seems mildly impressed and amused as the two drink up. "Thanking you. And welcome, I haven't seen you before. Here, first one's on the house. Yes, tonight's one of the busier nights."
Quiet nods, resting his free hand on the bar top. "Lot of activity out here. You seeing a lot of traffic lately?" Freyja nods once to the bartender in acknowledgment of the courtesy, and leans an elbow on the bar so she can keep her back to the wall and Quiet, and still see the bar patrons. She sips slowly, letting her senses reach out and trying to gather information that will help Quiet and her master. She grins internally... she thinks she likes black leather!
The Bothan's smile becomes a bit sly, and he leans on the counter near the two. "Enough. Of many different types of traffic."
Quiet mms, "New development for the Mid Rim. You must be seeing a lot of new faces." He switches hands with his drink, tilting back another swig. Somewhere along the way a credit chip finds its way onto the bar.
The Bothan arches his ears, eyeing Quiet. After a moment he says, "Well, new business opportunities are always presenting themselves. Haven't seen... many new faces, but some." He breaks into a smile. "Like yours."
Quiet polishes off his drink. "Is that a fact now," he murmurs. "I'll have another." He leaves another chip on the table. "That cover it?" The chip is of a denomination that should cover more than one. Freyja raises a mental eyebrow to herself -- her intuition tells her the Bothan is clearly interested in dealing. He's got that "ooooh, profit!" stance, and the look of a guy who'd love to tell something to someone who wants to pay for it. Now, how to communicate that to Quiet... well, actually Quiet seems to be doing fine so far on his own. She'll just keep watching, unless things change.
The Bothan smiles slowly, and nods, "It might. It depends on what you're planning on ordering." He considers for a moment. "Here. I am liking you both. Let me mix you something a House Special, instead of that dianoga bath-water that Khassim Ploor Stout has become. Then maybe we can... see what else you're interested in."
Quiet says, "I think that'll be fine." Good, Freyja thinks, The Bothan still seems interested, if a bit cautious. He knows the dance has started, which he likes, but he's curious and cautious as to where it's going to go. Freyja waits until the Bothan's turned away to prepare the new drinks, then leans to softly (and quickly) murmur her observations and conclusions in Quiet's ear. Once she's done, she goes back to apparently disinterestedly observing the room.
The Bothan nods, then returns with a pair of glasses in which are clear concoctions which are almost odorless but some kind of fermented beverage. He takes the "Stout" and promptly pours it into the sink. He takes care of a couple of other customers, then returns, smiling slyly. "So... do you like your drinks? Is there anything else I can... serve you with?" Freyja is watching the Bothan with quiet interest as he mixes the drinks. She's never even heard of half the drinks he's mixing up tonight. Some of them apparently require low explosives to mix... and then, at that moment, she feels a faint tingling, the lightest of ripples in the Force. She raises her head abruptly, scanning around. It's very close, in fact. But she can't pinpoint precisely where...
Quiet mms, "Perhaps. I'm sure you've seen a steady stream of faces through here." He has another drink and is silently grateful for starting young; this is more alcohol than he was planning on. "Perhaps you've seen someone with... unusual technology?"
The Bothan looks at Quiet for a moment, wiping the glass to an almost disturbing level of cleanliness. "I see lots of people, with lots of technology. Some of it... isn't seen very often in Mid Rim." His voice drops, "Or Republic, for that matter."
Quiet slides the empty glass back to the Bothan with another credit chip. "Is that so." Under the counter, Freyja puts a warning hand on Quiet's thigh for just a second. Interesting that the mention of "unusual tech" made the Bothan tense up... still, looks like Quiet's got it in hand again.
The Bothan purses his lips at the credits that Quiet has slid to him. "Is truth," he states simply. He glances around. "Why, just a few nights ago had incident in this... erm. In one of the bars in spaceport, or so I've been told."
Quiet mms. "Nothing you couldn't handle, right?" Freyja stiffens a bit as that unpleasant crawling sensation gets slightly stronger She can see where it's coming from now -- a tall, somewhat handsome male in some near-Human species she's never seen before -- vaguely emerald, scale-like skin with dark outlining around the eyes, a set of neatly-groomed 'whiskers' or maybe cilia along the jawline. He walks with a slightly loping gait, and Freyja realizes the entity is digitigrade. A black, flowing tunic conceals his chest and waist. He carries himself straight, and walks briskly towards a corner table. She looks away from him at her glass, wondering a bit frantically how to communicate the danger to Quiet without using the Force. She turns to look at Quiet, hoping he'll look at her. If he does, she slowly and deliberately turns her eyes, but not her face, towards the male radiating the Dark.
The Bothan snorts a little. "Didn't have to. Customers handled it. Drunken spacers, one of them Trandoshan, made themselves unpleasant at a male Trandoshan. I expected a fight, then, but male's friends stepped up." He makes an odd sort of sound, possibly of disbelief. "Some sort of ranged, blade weapon. The female Trandoshan became bloody gobbets. Her friends came up with concussor guns. Thought the male and his friends were finished, but then they pulled out vibroblades and before any of the spacers could get off a shot, they were dead." He shrugs a little. "It happens often enough in the Pits. They paid to clean up, police came and were satisfied with their story, and left."
Quiet says, "Vibros? Long, yeah? About a meter?"
The bartender shrugs. "About that. They looked well-oiled, too. And quiet. I couldn't hear an ultrasonic peep from them." He grins and with one hand touches his overlarge, almost feline ears. "But they cut through the spacers' armor like a lightsaber through bacta, so they must have been some kind of stealth vibros."
Quiet mms, "Yeah... heard about that." Freyja spares another slow gaze around the room. She sees the man sitting at a dark corner booth, engrossed in reading from a tablet of some kind. He scowls in frustration and anger. She glances back at Quiet a little frustratedly -- and realizes the bartender is now nervous also.
The Bothan nods, "Yes, well... it was a bit of a surprise."
Quiet leans a little closer when he sends the glass back this time. He murmurs, practically subvocalizing but well within the Bothan's extensive range, "That one of them?"
The barkeep almost jumps out of his skin, and reaches over to start cleaning another glass. "Y-yes," his voice says quietly. "I don't believe they like a lot of attention."
Freyja sighs internally in relief -- looks like Quiet got the message. She'll go back to watching the room alertly, now her companion's aware. Quiet nods. "Why don't we talk about something else, then."
The Bothan visibly relaxes, and even manages to smile. "Certainly. I am of pleasure to serve." He pauses only to tend to a few customers, then returns.
Quiet says, "Said you'd seen a few faces like mine?" Freyja pays no more attention to the Darkling than she does to anyone else. If he moves suddenly, or uses the Force, that'd be different... but for now she's scanning the entire room. She wouldn't put it past him to use the Force to "poke" someone else into being the aggressor for him.
The Bothan shrugs, "Well, seen new faces. Like, er, that one. And his group. And several others."
Quiet nods. "I can see I'm putting you in a spot here, so... I tell you what." He sets out one more credit chip. "One last question, and I won't trouble you anymore. You think you might know where they've been hanging out when they're not harassing your patrons?"
The bartender blinks at the additional credit, then says in a soft, hissing whisper, "I'd rather not get one of those circular blades lodged in my throat. Or slit by one of those stealth vibros. It's very bad for business if the bartender bleeds into the customer's drinks...."
Quiet places a second chip on the bar. "Anything you might have heard... second or third hand, would do." And a third. "And then you'll not see my face again." Freyja watches as a Trandoshan walks in. Hm... Talmon? He looks about right -- young, in good shape, a bit fidgety. Would that make the other male Jiosch? She notices the brief hint of a sand-colored tunic underneath, as the young male fusses with his cloak. He walks to the man in the corner, actually sketches a brief bow before the man gestures impatiently, and the Trandoshan sits quickly. They lean together, talking in quiet, urgent tones.
The Bothan glances at the credits, then -- in a quick motion -- makes them disappear. "Out by bay eighteen," he says. "Out where the Jedi was killed. I think they had something to do with it. We don't talk about it much; anyone who can kill a Jedi, well... what's a poor bartender going to do?"
Quiet says, "Nothing but serve his customers, aiyah? You heard nothing, and we were never here."
The Bothan nods, returning to smiling. "A pity, would have liked to have established a business relationship with you further." He sets a new set of drinks before the two, gratis, then moves off, dealing with the rest of the customers and not returning to that corner of the bar.
If someone happened to be watching Freyja closely, they'd notice her getting a slightly glazed look as she stares at her glass. She's listening, as hard as she can, to the Dark ones, focusing in to hear their conversation. The darkling says, "-done well, Talmon, so far. The task isn't over yet. You don't like it, neither do I, but the Master has told us what's to be done. They have until sundown on the monastery tomorrow, then they're ours." "I understand, my liege." "Good. Tell the others we're not going to meet here anymore. That was a sloppy dispersal last night; I shouldn't have had to come here tonight to warn any of you. Remember, Talmon, that Sith justice is quick and swift and does not come at the end of a blade... or a lightsaber for that matter. If things go wrong, you will not even see that which takes your spirit..." At that, Freyja's enhanced senses finally exhaust, and the conversation fades into the background. She takes a slow, deep breath.
Quiet murmurs to himself, "Wouldn't rule it out just yet..." He straightens up from the bar, and glances at Freyja... then pauses. She seems to be concentrating on something... Freyja blinks at the new drink, wrinkles her nose slightly, then looks at Quiet. She tilts her head once, inquiringly, towards the door. Quiet says, "We got what we came for. Finish your drink." He gulps down the last of his own drink. "Better go meet our ride." Freyja looks faintly chagrined. She doesn't really want it... she nudges it with one finger an inch or two towards Quiet, offering it to him. Quiet shrugs and gulps that one down as well, taking a breath. He blinks a few times, then heads, carefully and deliberately given the amount he's had to drink, toward the door. Freyja looks relieved and follows promptly, again closely flanking Quiet's left.
Colburth is waiting in the landspeeder, and speaks only when the doors are closed. "I saw and sensed nothing out here except for a faint sense of darksiders," he says, "but I couldn't focus in on it, not and worry about getting their attention. How did it go?
Freyja murmurs tightly, "They're there... Jiosch and Talmon."
Quiet waits for them to return to the speeder pad before speaking, "Got a place to go with the names, too." He sits down heavily on the fender of the speeder and takes a deep breath, clearing his head.
Colburth blinks, then grimaces. "Blast," he mutters. "That's unpleasant." He glances at Quiet. "You okay, Satau?"
Freyja says, "In the cantina. They won't be meeting there again. They're planning to attack the monastery, even though they don't want to, because the 'Master' says it's necessary." She adds a little apologetically, "I'm sorry, Quiet. It's just... it was nasty tasting!"
Quiet says, "The bartender required some convincing."
Colburth nods, frowning. "Where do we go now?"
Freyja puts her dark hood back and tilts her head to regard Quiet thoughtfully. He doesn't look worried, though, so she figures he's fine. Instead she looks to Colburth, "So... what now?"
Quiet says, "Bay eighteen." Freyja grins at the Jedi Knight and she saying almost the same thing at the same time, then looks inquiringly at Quiet. At his words she nods, "Now, or with more backup?"
Colburth lets out a breath. "I think we are the backup."
Freyja sighs a little worriedly, "All right, we should deal with it, then." She looks up at the Jedi Knight, "Would you please notify my Master of the relevant information, so it's not lost if we're... delayed?"
Quiet says, "They've got range weapons; from what I hear from the front lines, likely a lanvarok. Might want to get Roakkana in on this... I only have a blaster and a vibroblade. We're outgunned." Freyja looks faintly relieved. She'd thought much the same, but wasn't sure it was polite to nay-say a Jedi Knight.
Colburth nods, "I can do that." He leans back in his seat, pulling out his comlink, then pauses at Quiet's words. "A lanvarok? Right, then. We should probably go back and regroup."
Quiet says, "The one that's pulling Talmon's strings dropped a Trandoshan with it. I'd say his aim's as good as mine. And I can't bounce his shots back."
Colburth nods, frowning, "Right, then. I'd recommend we go back and regroup. Master Roakkana did tell me to protect you two, not tell you what to do."
Quiet says, "I can take one out if I get the drop on him. I can kill Talmon, easily, but I assume that's not what we want."
Freyja settles into the seat of the speeder. As she does so, she says slowly, "Um... what's a liege, to a Sith? Is that the person's master? If so, it's Jiosch who's Talmon's master... and it might even be he that shot the Force lightning at poor Master Hul-Shan."
"A liege? Probably just Talmon's superior. Jiosch is probably the person assigned to keep Talmon from stepping over the line, not necessarily his master. It sounds like they share a master, but Jiosch is given superiority over Talmon."
Freyja muses thoughtfully, "I wonder if there actually is a 'Sith' here... or if it's all Jiosch?"
Colburth says, "It's a thought, Padawan Freyja." He thinks. "I'm of the opinion that we still might not know enough."
Quiet says, "Let's get Roakkana on the com while we're deliberating."
Contacting the monastery is quick, and Roakkana listens to the news silently. "It appears, then, that we know the general area where they are. This is certainly troubling. Is there any way to try and get hold of one of them on their own? You had said Talmon entered the cantina alone."
Quiet says, "I'll scope it out. If Talmon leaves on his own I'll bring him down."
Freyja considers for a moment, then says slowly, "Well... we could go back and see if Talmon's still there... right, what Quiet said."
Just then, Jiosch and Talmon leave the cantina. They separate, then, walking in different directions, with a single brief exchange. Freyja notices the duo leaving, then grins at Quiet, "We're in luck!"
Quiet says, "Colburth, you know anything about tailing?"
Colburth deadpans, "Something, yes. You want me to tail Jiosch?"
Quiet says, "See if he's scouting for a new location. If he heads back to bay 18, just come on back. Freyja and I are going to bring Talmon down." Freyja grins, sliding easily back out of the speeder. As she steps to Quiet's side, she puts her dark hood back up.
Colburth nods, and slips out of the landspeeder. "No problem. I'll have my comlink's annunciator set to 'silent.'"
Quiet says, "We'll meet back here. Let's go, we don't want to give them any more of a head start." Freyja nods, already quietly and automatically noting good places to slip into shadow.
Talmon is quick for a Trandoshan; his nervousness lends him some additional incentive. He does seem to be indeed headed for the general direction of Bay 18. The early evening crowd seems to have mostly congregated towards the cantinas and the commercial district, so the streets are fairly clear, void but for a few droids hauling cargo. Freyja follows Quiet's lead. She hopes they take the Trandoshan down before he's within hailing distance of help from the cargo bay. In the interim between now and when Quiet takes Talmon down, she'll stay quiet and stealthy, and watch his back. Quiet murmurs to Freyja, "We're getting too close to 18. Take him." He begins to close in as quietly as possible. Freyja nods and slides forward enough that she's away from Quiet. She studies the Trandoshan for a second... and then sends Friendship slipping silently through the Force towards the lost one.
Freyja feels the tendrils of the Force reaching out towards the fallen Padawan. The Trandoshan slows in his quick pace, frowning a little, then whirls as he hears the scrape of Quiet's feet upon the murky ground, immediately seeing Quiet and Freyja. He starts to fumble a bit at his waist, the black cloak getting in his way. "Who... what... who are you?!" he says sharply, managing to have a voice sounding stronger than he appears.
Freyja holds out one hand, standing very still, and murmurs, "Talmon... come. It's time to come home." Quiet rests one hand on the butt of his blaster beneath his cloak. He freezes, guessing the situation, and doesn't advance further. Freyja uses all her concentration, training, and 'feel' in the Force, doing her best to focus all her will on this lost one. She believes he will come back now.
Talmon hesitates when he hears Freyja's words. After a moment his expression hardens, and he slowly steps back. "No," he says softly. "No, no, the monastery isn't my home. The Order isn't my home!" He swallows, and doesn't quite stop adjusting his cloak. "You'd... you'd better go back. It's not safe for you, don't you realize that? It's not safe for any Jedi on Marnaas."
Freyja says, "The Order is your home, Talmon. It is where you are now that is not home. Home means you do not fear a vibroblade in the back, or bodiless fingers at your throat in the night." She does her best to pitch her voice in low, confident, reassuring tones -- the voice of someone you'd believe implicitly. "You are no safer than a Jedi, here... less so. Jedi do not consider their Padawans expendable... they do not threaten them, to command obedience through fear." Quiet draws his blaster but keeps it beneath his cloak... just in case. Freyja doesn't move -- just stands, her hand still out, waiting for him as if there were no question in the least that he will take her hand.
The Trandoshan swallows, "I'm not expendable," he murmurs, though he sounds rather uncertain. "At least... at least with the Sith I'm not considered a case that'll take decades or even a century until I become something worthwhile. The Dark Side gave me that much -- I owe them at least as much!" He isn't fumbling quite as much with his cloak now, though he slides his hands underneath it. "Please... just go. These... aren't the Sith that you see on the HoloNet. This isn't going to end in some epic battle that they'll write songs about, that'll make the HoloNet news."
Freyja says, "True, Talmon. The Sith on the HoloNet are fictional. Here and now is real, with a Sith already using you as a pawn, just to do its dirty killing work for it; evil may look flashy, but at heart it's simply banal. What happened to your dreams of peace, honor, justice in the galaxy, doing a good job? Don't let those dreams die, Talmon. Don't give up to the fear... come with me!"
He shakes his head, taking a few more steps back. "No... no, you don't understand." There is a soft, faint, metal-on-metal hissing sound, and in somewhat unsteady hands, Talmon slowly brings out a dark, oily-bladed sword about three-quarters of a meter long. "The Sith under Naga Sadow, the ones taking world after world in the Outer Rim; these... these aren't his...." The Trandoshan swallows. "I can't go back, anyway," he mutters. "Not after killing Hul-Shan. What awaits me? Tribunal, interrogation by the Watchers... then what?"
Quiet silently raises his blaster from where he stands in the shadows. He doesn't want to blow this for Freyja, but if Talmon makes an aggressive movement... Freyja doesn't move, although she's suddenly very nervous. She reminds herself firmly that she has excellent backup, as she says simply, "We already know, Talmon. We still want you to come home. We won't threaten you to compel obedience. You're not expendable to us."
Talmon's jaw works a little -- on a Trandoshan, his mouth opens and closes a bit, his eyes glittering slightly in the night. "If I go back, I'd be tempted to hurt that damn Templar," he mutters. "I can't... I want to, to go back, but I can't. I swore an oath...." His expression gets a little distant. "Oath of fire...."
Freyja murmurs with grave amusement, "I often want to take a poke at him myself." She gives the conflicted Trandoshan a moment to realize that was humor -- hopefully it will be a little more disorienting, and she needs him a bit off balance -- then she says soothingly, "You want to go back. It's all right, Talmon... I'll take care of it." She starts walking slowly, very calmly and non-threateningly towards the Trandoshan, "Put the sword down, and I'll fix everything for you, Talmon. You are not expendable... we'll make things right, you and I." She keeps up a calm, soothing stream of words, carefully walking so she doesn't break Quiet's line of fire. She will, if Talmon actually puts the sword down, use her medpac to knock him out. However, if he takes a swing at her, she intends to dive for cover, and pray Quiet manages to knock the Trandoshan down.
The Trandoshan visibly hesitates... then he smiles and sighs a little, letting the sword's point drop downward. And at that moment, a quiet, whizzing, hissing sound snakes out of the darkness behind Talmon. The sound ends in dull, wet thunks, and Talmon, a startled look on his face, staggers a bit. "The fire...." His voice almost a whimper, he collapsing to his knees. "Run...!" Freyja darts forward, intending to kick the disgusting blade aside -- she'll take the Trandoshan with her if she possibly can, and the Dark bastard be damned!
Quiet lets out a tired breath. Damn it straight to hell. "Lanvarok! Freyja, get him out of here now! Go!" He swears under his breath, looking for the source of the fire. I leave home without a comlink for the first time in my career, and this happens. The cosmos hates me.
The darkness is split by the snap-hiss of a lightsaber igniting, and a dull red glow illuminates the face of a vaguely canine humanoid, teeth bared in a snarl. Thoughts race through Freyja's brain as she darts forward, grabbing up the fallen Talmon -- but not the evil blade: Take too long to use a medpac right now -- don't want him shot again -- it lit a lightsaber, good, Quiet will have distance on it, whatever it is -- hope it's the lanvarok wielder too -- that'd be a nice stroke of luck for us -- hard to aim a distance weapon while using a lightsaber -- oof! -don't give up on me, Talmon! She hoists the Trandoshan over a shoulder and takes off as fast as she can for the speeder.
The crimson 'sabre forming a halo around him as he swings it about, the lupine charges forward almost recklessly, drawing the blade back for his attack. "Die, Jedi!" he snarls, the bloody light coming down towards Freyja. She wastes no time or breath in smart-mouthed repartee -- her faith is in Quiet's aim, not her wit, at this point -- she runs. The lightsaber blade from the Sithspawn seems to roar as it cleanly misses both Freyja and the limp form of Talmon -- a sound matched by the darksider's own howl of anger. Quiet begins to withdraw as well, diagonally back toward the speeder, while sidling closer to the melee. Raising his blaster toward the back of... whatever it is, he squeezes off a shot. The Sith barely manages to twist out of the way of the aim of the bolt, but only just barely. The effort takes much of the fight out of him, even as the blast clips his shoulder. He staggers back a little... and then glowers at the two before him, readying his lightsaber again and baring his teeth.
Quiet says, "Maybe you want to come play with me, instead." Freyja doesn't pause at all -- she is out of there! The sooner she's gone, the sooner Quiet can leave too -- and the sooner she can slap the medpac on poor Talmon. She sprints lithely through the streets, doing her best to both cover ground as swiftly as possible, yet still spare the injured Trandoshan as much jarring as she can. Freyja scans swiftly around as much as she can without slowing her speed -- they could really use Colburth's help right now!
The being's nose twitches slightly, and he clearly looks torn for a moment... but then bares his teeth again. "You aren't Jedi," he growls, "But you'll do for starters!" His left hand whips out and from the steel, handless gauntlet strapped there comes more of the small whizzing disks. The lanvarok's blades whisper mis-sent tidings of blood and death as they sail over and around Quiet.
Freyja reaches the speeder, panting, and kneels within it, letting Talmon down as carefully as she can. Then she swiftly slaps the medpac on the unconscious Trandoshan... and does her best to make the poor boy comfortable. The blades did a real number on him, and he wasn't exactly the beefiest of individuals. She's practical too -- she rifles his pockets, to be sure there are no more hidden weapons, trackers, or anything else on him.
Quiet continues to retreat at a controlled pace, grinning as he hears Freyja's footsteps fading, leaving him free to do his job without concern for the wounded. "You're right, I'm not Jedi." He brings up his blaster again, "I love this stuff." The lupine Sith yowls something, staggering back as the blaster rips into his chest. Incredibly though, he still manages to stand, drawing on some reserves of dark strength as he looks up at Quiet and snarls, weakly and bitterly but still defiant. Knowing he's on his last breath, the Sith bares his teeth, his lips drawing back almost more than seems physically possible. With a sudden, screaming howl, his lightsaber arcs around and then down in a vicious slash, the fire of the Dark Side burning in the creature's eyes. Despite the crackling rage coursing through his body, and the sudden movement towards Quiet, the lightsaber doesn't quite touch the troubleshooter. And no sound the being has yet made quite matches the howl of rage that escapes his mouth.
Quiet continues to methodically retreat down the empty street. "Well. I was going to ask you to surrender. But I see that's a waste of our time." He smiles at that, broadly, and his damaged lips twist it into a terrible rictus as he takes what he hopes will be the last shot. His smile fades somewhat as his blaster clicks. The power pack dies. "Oh well... I guess I get to use my sword now." The wolf-like Sith's eyes widen as Quiet's blaster clicks, and slowly he starts to back away into the darkness, keeping his 'sabre between him and Quiet.
Freyja looks up in alert worry, feeling that wicked tremor in the Force again -- someone just drew on the Dark side! Simultaneously her comlink buzzes. She starts up the speeder -- she's going to ram that damn Sith-thing if necessary! -- and answers the comlink with voice-only, "Freyja."
The tinny voice from the comlink is Colburth's. "Freyja, what in the Corellian Hells just happened? I felt that tremor in the Force, then Jiosch just up and bolted and got away from my trailing him...."
Freyja gives Colburth the address, then a terse, "Meet us there. Can you do Force healing?" She's already driving as fast as she dares into the town for that address, sending Quiet all the mental Force luck she can.
"Negative, that wasn't my area of expertise, I'm afraid. I've a medpac to spare, though. Which of you is hurt?"
Freyja says, "Later, must concentrate -- not much of a pilot. Hurry, please!" She clicks off the comlink so she can concentrate.
Quiet drops the useless blaster and draws his vibroblade, a long, straight weapon with a slightly broad blade. His thumb brushes across a stud in the hilt as he steps forward, the blade seeming to waver a moment, and then it seems still again, humming malignly as he dashes forward, cloak blowing out behind him. He lunges, feinting high then dropping and coming up savagely under the alien's guard. Catching his eye on the backswing, he grins maliciously, then raises a finger to his ruined lips and says, simply, "Shhh!" The wolf was clearly not expecting the attack, and he makes a half-ready attempt to parry the vibroblade with his 'sabre, but fails. The humming blade shears into him, dark magenta blood spilling out onto the ground, but he does not howl. He barely makes a sound, in fact, looking at Quiet with almost dazed eyes.
Freyja whirls around the corner in the speeder just in time to see Quiet spill a lot of Sith blood. She's tremendously relieved -- Quiet's on his feet still, and she can't see any blood on him. She turns the speeder for a quick take-off, calling to the Human, "Jiosch and Colburth are on the way -- get in quick when you're done -- we need a better get-away pilot!"
The Sithspawn decides that Quiet isn't going to let him get away. As he hears the landspeeder, he makes one last attack, slashing at the Human one more time, face set in a grimace of determination. Quiet wrenches his body out of the way at the last moment, close enough to feel the heat of the blade, grimacing as he feels something pull, caught off-balance. Then he catches his balance, turning the blade, and lashes out in a reverse arc with it. He brings the canine creature down with this blow. He stands, panting raggedly, over the body of the fallen Sith for a few moments with blade upraised... his fingers tense on the grip of the blade-- and then a sharp pain in his side brings him back to the here and now, and he lowers the weapon, thumbing the power off.
Freyja is standing in the speeder, one hand still resting on the controls in case of emergency, and looking around searchingly for Colburth. To Quiet she murmurs, "You all right? Do you know if there's a backup weapon in this speeder? Don't forget to pick up your blaster..."
From down an alleyway there's the rapid pat-pat-pat of someone running, and shortly Colburth comes bursting into view. His eyes fall on the bloody body of the Sith. "The hell...?" He shakes his head, and instead jumps into the speeder. "Hurry," he says. "I think I heard Jiosch coming. He is not very happy right now...."
Freyja calls sharply, "Quiet, come now!"
Quiet gives his blade a long, circular sweep to whisk the blood from it, then sheaths it. "To hell with Jiosch." He bends down and picks up the body of the Sith, throwing it in after Colburth. "Here, Freyja; see to this one if you can, just keep him stable." He runs back to the street to snatch his blaster from the dust, holstering it as he slides into the pilot seat.
Freyja looks a little startled, then simply nods, holding a hand to Colburth, "Medpac," as she kneels by the Sith thing. Quiet puts the hammer down, flat out for the main road and the monastery.
Colburth is more than a little surprised when he sees Talmon there, and twice as much when Quiet throws the Sith's body in. "Hellfire," he murmurs, handing the medpac over to Freyja. "What happened?"
Freyja works over the canid humanoid with the medpac until it's either stabilized or dead. She has Talmon stabilized, much to her relief. He'll need rest, but she should be able to keep her promise to make things better for him now. The canid, however, is dying despite her best efforts. She looks up and says with quiet intensity, "Colburth, if you can help, now would be good. Quiet, you should hurry if you want this individual to live."
Quiet snarls quietly back over his shoulder, "Don't tell me to hurry, girl, this crate doesn't go any faster!"
Colburth shakes his head wanly, "Padawan Freyja, honest, if I could do anything more than use a medpac, I would."
Freyja eyes the back of the Human's head thoughtfully... then decides that's just how some folks express tension. To the Jedi she says, "Call ahead so they're ready, and ask my Master if he can give me any suggestions on what else to try." She continues working over the Sith, trying her best to staunch its wounds and keep it holding on to life. Colburth nods, pulling out his comlink and contacting the monastery.
The trip is as quick as Quiet can make it. The Sith seems to have hung on by sheer force of will, stable but critical. Talmon is also taken into the infirmary, where he is tended to as best as the Jedi present can. It will probably be morning before the fate of either will be known. Meanwhile, Roakkana asks Freyja, Quiet, and Colburth to meet with him in the conference room with Kalloss and Kuuna. "Well," he says mildly, "I can already sense the monastery's padawans complaining about getting the blood out of the landspeeder. Whatever happened? What did you find?"
Freyja is looking a bit worn, but rather pleased. She grins, waving to Quiet, "It was him, Master Roakkana! He did a marvelous job!" She adds to Quiet, "Go on, tell him!" She will quietly and surreptitiously try to wipe some of the prosthetics off while Quiet's talking.
Quiet throws his cloak back out of his way as he strides closer, there being little point in concealing the fact that he's armed, and heavily. He slaps a fresh power pack into his blaster. "Apparently they're using bay 18 in the spaceport as some sort of hidey-hole. They've abandoned the cantina they were using to meet. We were in the process of retrieving Talmon here... Freyja was using some kind of compulsion on him to keep him docile. When the canid one attempted to silence him, I delayed it while Freyja escaped with Talmon."
Freyja looks up, adding quietly, "Master Roakkana... Talmon wants to return. I told him to just put the sword down, and I'd make it better." She pauses, considering a moment, then adds firmly, "I will gladly help again if necessary, to make sure he makes it." She thinks about what she said, then grins a little tiredly as she realizes it doesn't quite make sense, "Excuse me... he did put the sword down. That's when the Sith shot him in the back. Oh, and he said he made an oath of fire, which he seemed quite fearful of."
Roakkana says dryly, "A backful of lanvarok blades would be one way of silencing someone, yes. That's one way of putting it. We don't know yet if Talmon will see the morning, yes." He looks over to Freyja, and nods quietly. "Thank you, child, it's very comforting to know that. For the time being, Talmon is probably safe from retribution while here. And for now, that's what's important. What happens to him after this -- if he survives -- well... I hope he has the strength to go through that."
Freyja straightens suddenly, looking at first her Master, then Colburth, and adds pointedly, "I would suggest he not have many visitors, either... so that he have no discouragement in his healing process." She raises a faintly disapproving eyebrow at the Templar... then goes calmly back to rubbing one sleeve lightly over her face while she waits for her Master to speak.
Colburth seems alert as ever but makes no reaction to Freyja's look. Roakkana nods, "I agree. He needs his rest. And that is good, Zero. When you are satisfied, look for me in my quarters. I imagine you'll be thorough and take a while."
Quiet says, "Speaking of which, I'm going to see to disarming and securing the other one for the night, so he... it... can be attended to more easily. There is something we should discuss, after that."
Freyja nods to the Human, adding sincerely, "Thank you, Quiet. Talmon and I got out because of you."
Quiet shakes his head, "It's nothing. That's why they sent me. I'm glad you got out unhurt." Freyja smiles warmly at Quiet as he leaves. She certainly doesn't think it was nothing, but isn't going to argue with him about it publicly.
Shortly, Colburth has quietly helped Freyja remove the less temporary parts of her disguise, then retired to his quarters, himself, to meditate. The Sith's lanvarok and lightsaber -- it's hard to tell just what make it is, Sith or Jedi -- are confiscated, and the body is stripped by the healer to better allow him to do his work -- and incidentally showing that, unless the Sith has something unpleasant stowed somewhere equally unpleasant, he is now divested of everything. Freyja sees right off that the lightsaber is most definitely not of Jedi make, instead made of odd and vaguely unwholesome forgings. She looks faintly disgusted at the lightsaber.
Quiet says, "I'm going to keep these. My superiors may have something they wish to learn from them. If not... I'll destroy them myself when we return to Coruscant."
It is somewhat later, at Quiet's suggestion, that the three meet in Roakkana's quarters. He sits in a chair, looking not at all tired -- in fact, looking as if he half-expects Freyja and Quiet to be more tired than they are. "The Sith is secured to your satisfaction, Quiet?"
Quiet says, "He won't be going anyplace. The healer has his work cut out for him anyway. I tend to be quite thorough." Freyja is leaning back against the wall, seated cross-legged on the bed again and feeling much better now her face has been cleaned off, and the hotter pieces of leather equipment have been removed. She listens interestedly.
Roakkana nods, "Good! I'm glad to hear that. You say he had a lightsaber? I'd like to see it, if I may. The Sith don't usually carry lightsabers unless they're converts from the Order." He looks to Freyja. "And you mentioned Talmon's sword?"
Quiet holds out the sword, grip-first, to Roakkana. In his other hand he holds the lightsaber grip, "It's a nice blade. Freyja said she doesn't recognize the make of the sabre..." He shrugs, "I can't tell the difference, myself. Freyja?"
Freyja nods, "Yes, Master Roakkana. I used Friendship on him, hoping to persuade him to return with us... or at worst, distract him long enough for Quiet to knock him down. He was very nervous, insisting that he could not return and the Order was no longer his home and he wasn't expendable... but he didn't sound certain, so I asked him about his dreams. That's when he drew on me, but kept pleading with me to leave, since this was not one of Naga Shadow's Sith..." She pauses, looking at the lightsaber but not touching it. Her expression is faintly disgusted, as if at a nasty smell, "I... it's nasty, Quiet. Don't touch it -- it's bad."
Roakkana starts to reach for the hilt of the blade... then draws his hand back. "That... looks much like something very nice to feed to a molecular furnace, I think," he says a little raggedly. "That's most assuredly a Sith sword, lad, forged by whatever darkside alchemy the Sith use. Damned if we know how they do that. I daresay I mean that literally." He turns his attention to the 'sabre, holding it delicately. "Ah, yes... it's inspired by Jedi lightsabers, but the emitter matrix and other components were forged by Sith alchemy. Normally it is only the most exceptional Jedi who can infuse their lightsabers with the Force. The Sith..." He shakes his head, and looks to Freyja. "Indeed? Not one of Naga Sadow's... what do you think he meant by that?"
Quiet says, "If they have no need of it when we return to the Capital, I'll destroy it personally. You have my word on that."
Freyja nods once, her face grim... then finishes her thought, "Um... right, not of Naga Sadow... and taking an oath of fire, which he seemed very afraid of. He also mentioned that if he went back he'd be tempted to 'take a poke at that damn Templar.'" She pauses, then adds dryly, "I thought perhaps Jedi Colburth could be encouraged to not be um... quite so disparaging of Padawans that can't yet levitate rocks, Master." She adds, once she's finished, "Quiet, we were already told to destroy the Sith blade by the Senator and the former Templar, remember?" She tucks her hands reflexively into her sleeves. The Sith equipment makes her feel... vaguely dirty. The Wookie arches a brow to Quiet, but remains silent.
Quiet says, "There's no means of destroying the thing here, Freyja. And I don't plan on building a furnace in the basement. I'll drive it up to the hilt into a rock if need be. But I don't think anyone will be reclaiming this one for the glory of the Sith... not that I suspect the glory of the Sith was ever its intended destiny... if they gave it to Talmon. When we have the time and the facilities, I'll destroy it. And I will keep it away from you in the meantime." Freyja nods slowly, her gaze on the slightly greasy looking blade, but her thoughts on poor tragic Talmon. She mentally sends best wishes, and lack of fear, to the Trandoshan. Quiet rolls one shoulder, letting the left side of his cloak fall over that side, hiding the blade but for the very tip near the floor.
Roakkana's mouth quirks in a bit of a smile. "'Take a poke at that damn Templar.' Oh, that's good. Too bad Jedi Colburth wasn't there to hear it. Jedi Colburth has a number of faults -- as we all do -- but I think that he can be convinced to recognize some of his own before commenting on others' again. He was a Padawan -- and a Lancer -- not all that long ago." Pausing, he adds, "Needless to say, that does not go beyond this room."
Freyja grins at the Wookie, then says virtuously, "Certainly not, Master!"
Quiet says, "I'm not paid to relay messages." Freyja grins at the Human as well. She finds him interestingly peculiar in his means of showing camaraderie... but oddly nice, in a dependable-feeling way. She's not sure why she feels that way... but she trusts her instincts. The Wookie mutters, "The fact that the Templars are again traveling beyond Coruscant would cause enough of a scandal...." Roakkana looks to Quiet again, then nods, "Very well, lad, that makes sense. I do not believe that it is a corrupting blade, but all the same I would say for you to never use it. The wounds it cause are aggravated, never healing right. But it brings up another question. Why would they give Talmon a Sith sword?"
Quiet says, "Talmon seemed to think that these Sith were not beneath Naga Sadow. I'd thought they were united, but perhaps the rumors of an oligarchy are true. It's possible they have divergent methods of operation."
Freyja smiles ruefully at the Wookie, "Because they don't expect him to have it long? Because he can't make a lightsaber? Maybe even because killing a Jedi Master in betrayal with it strengthens its malevolence?"
Quiet says, "But it seems like a valuable trinket to be lending to a mere apprentice. Perhaps Freyja's right. Perhaps he was only intended to use it to slay Hul-Shan."
Roakkana nods. "That seems to sound right, and it starts to bring into clearer focus what the Mandragolan was saying by arranging for time for the monastery to leave the planet." He looks to Freyja. "I'm not quite sure, child. Despite Master Balin Khoud's assurances, there is much we don't know about Sith alchemy. Perhaps there was a purpose in giving him this blade, rather than a lanvarok, which might have been more suited to his level of aptitude, or even a blaster. And if anything, the Sith waste nothing. 'Expendable' to them means something different than it does to the Republic and to the Jedi. Weak in the force Talmon might unfortunately be, but he is still stronger than a hundred thousand others, and he is still Jedi. Just like not everyone has the strength in the Force to be a Jedi, not many more can be Sith."
Freyja looks a bit puzzled, "What does it bring into clearer focus, Master?" She adds curiously, "Um... so who was the canid looking one? Is that one a former Jedi too, or are we guessing the Sith brought folks with it?" She pauses, then says slowly, "Um... could Jiosch have done something like... I don't know, mine the monastery?"
Quiet says, "Mines I understand. If he used mundane weaponry inside the monastery... I'll find it."
Freyja gives Quiet a relieved look, "Thank you. I wouldn't know what to look for."
Quiet says, "We all have our areas of expertise." Freyja smiles... then looks curiously at the Wookie again, wondering what was clarified for him.
"I meant the Sith possibly having some sort of divisive split amongst them was brought into clearer focus. The canid, now... he is not like any species I've seen. Judging by the lanvarok and the distinctly... Sith lightsaber, I would say he is a native Sith acolyte from the Empire, who came to this world with his master. As for Jiosch mining the monastery, that might be a good thing to check on, Quiet. I would be grateful if you would look into that."
Quiet says, "I'll do it now. Could take a while. Freyja, if you picked up anything else while we were in the bar, make sure to let Roakkana know."
Freyja nods thoughtfully at her Master's words. Curious... factions of Sith. Sounds like Quiet's right, and that's the sort of thing that can be exploited by the Jedi. She smiles slowly, the expression not reaching her eyes, as she realized they probably took, maybe killed, the Sith's apprentice -- the dog-like thing. Then, when Quiet speaks, she looks up abruptly, "Oh! Yes, I overheard a few bits." She relates what she saw and heard at the cantina as faithfully as her memory allows. Roakkana takes in Freyja's information thoughtfully, considering it all. After that, he recommends sleep and rest for the next morning. In less than a day the deadline for all Jedi to leave the planet expires.
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