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Black Hearts

- - - - - Connor Harrison Tmoxin Temi

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#21
Connor Harrison

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Touching down, the lights from the area above cast a disorientating shadow through the small cockpit. Connor released the yolk and powered down. All the time he was thinking on the words bouncing around his head. Words from Taeli the deceptive Sith, and words from Tmoxin the powerful Commander.

He tapped his thumbs on the yolk in a gentle rhythm, pondering his position and looking at nothing for a while.

"You’re a clever woman. A powerful woman. You have connections and you have wealth and resources. I want all of that."

He stayed looking out at the vast arena and its bright lighting.

"I have the Dark Side as my ally. I know the battlefields across the galaxy and those who are important in the game, and those who aren’t. We both want the same thing."

With his face set, he turned his head to the woman who bore the mark he had laid on her. He had an idea, and it was a blunt one.

"I propose we form an alliance as of now. I will have your resources, you will have my power. Do you accept?"

Tmoxin Temi

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#22
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"Do you accept?"
 
The Hapan’s brown irises lifted to greet the Sith Knight, pupils dilating as a shadow passed over the cockpit. Otherwise the bright lights of the stadium cast an almost garish light into the ship, from which the Dark Jedi shielded her eyes. She did not answer, but rose once the landing gear engaged. Tmoxin gave a wary glance around, worried that the transport might be bugged, though she did not voice this concern. 
 
“We will discuss the terms inside.” 
 
At least it wasn’t a no.
 
As the pair exited the transport they were met by Morpho security, and while they may have not worn the gleaming white armor of stormtroopers, it was clear from their gait and countenance that they were highly trained in an imperialesque military, likely by Tmoxin herself.
 
She made no attempt, nor did the guards, to disarm Harrison. The trust between them had to start somewhere.
 
Eventually Connor would find himself in an underground part of the complex, completely secure, soundproof. A bank of computers lined one of the walls, built-in monitors displaying camera vantage points, satellite imagery and whatever other data Tmoxin needed access to. Her more luxurious office with its bespoke Coruscant-designed furniture and war trophies from prior campaigns was above ground in the complex; the room they sat in was nothing but utilitarian and did not appear often used. 
 
“I have some conditions as you probably assumed. I will help fund your operation, but it needs to be yours and yours alone. I’m not going to spend time and energy helping to build something that Darth Grabby Hands will sweep in and seize in five months time. Lok is neutral and independent, and I plan for it to remain that way.”
 
Sitting down in a metal folding chair near the computer bank, she continued:
 
“If your power is what you are offering I will take you up on that and may need access to you at times and your Shadows. Otherwise, what you do is none of my business as long as it does not jeopardize mine.”
 
They would be equals, nothing more or less, pursuing the same dark goals but by very different means.
 
She opened her shapely lips and then closed them again as though she was about to speak. Something clearly vexed her, though Tmoxin paused and remained silent to gauge his reaction to the proposal.
 

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#23
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Guards did not concern him, and he didn't look or acknowledge them as he finally followed the Commander from his ship into her lair. Her dominion. Her little empire.

He looked around as they went under, and finally things made a little more sense as a control station emerged under the secrecy of the sports complex.

As Tmoxin talked, Connor walked around, listening to every word and taking in what she had built up here, and just how far her tendrils stretched.

"I think we can - "

He stopped.

He noted her mouth open, and close, and that was enough to stop him also.

"There. Speak. What were you going to say." He pointed. "Speak up."

If there was one thing he wasn't going to tolerate, it was people not speaking from the heart before backing out.

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#24
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Her next words were clearly not what she wanted to say as they emerged with a casual, bell-like cadence. But the Hapan executive needed to firm up her deal with one more request.
 
“Also I want someone you trust, here. On the premises. A man, woman… preferably not an alien. But a liaison here in the Southern Systems. They will report to both of us. Understood?”
 
The subtext was clear. If Connor betrayed her, this life, this liaison would be sacrificed.
 
“Now about that head of yours,” she said with a soft smile, getting to the reason she had stopped speaking. When she crossed her legs the leathery fabric rustled momentarily, the knee-length boots displaying impossibly high heels. But again, the whimsy of fashion was hers to embrace; she was not a battle commander at the present time. Not yet at least.
 
“It’s truly frightening in there, which was hard won, I’m sure.” She gazed at him with admiration and even a healthy bit of fear. Like most Dark Jedis the Force was an incredibly useful tool, and on some level, yes, it defined her, but his loyalty to the Sith had been implanted by a dark practitioner so very strong… well, had been difficult to even glimpse those memories with the Mind Probe without withdrawing quickly, the miasma of suffering and despair clinging to her own psyche.
 
“Yet, some of your old past does remain. Attachments to the Jedi… to people… places. It’s a bit fragmented but still there. Encoded and stored and at times, fighting for supremacy with the present and the future. The old Connor Harrison I met two years ago on a desert not too far from here, when he was as idealistic as the shining, beaming sun in the sky that day… he’s still in there, believe it or not. Despite your best attempts to eradicate him. I have many, many questions about what happened to you, but the fact of the matter is..."
 
These conversations are always better had over a bottle of Smuggler’s Red, overlooking a stunning view versus the blinking lights and blue glow of a dreary war room like this one, Tmoxin mused.
 
The Hapan shifted again, betraying an agitation that could only be remedied by something with hedonistic intent. But her words were steady.
 
“I know how to get rid of him once and for all."
 

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#25
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Tmoxin had a point. Connor folded his arms, tapping a robotic finger on his chin.

"Alright. First, I have somebody. She’s a Pureblood, not human, but she will do. She is feisty, sure, but she will be of great use to you I am sure. I’ll see what I can do."

The Pureblood would be useful after all. Next, he hummed to himself and walked closer, looking at the floor in thought about the next steps.

"Second, we will go ahead with what you propose. We can’t allow any memories be raked up to use against me, be them Jedi or Sith. There should be no room for failure, and there is certainly no room to reflect on a past life." He walked around her, deep in thought and plotting out loud. "Faces and names must be retained – such a wealth of knowledge serving the Light is a wonderful weapon to have, but the ties to Connor must be cut. They must be blurred. Opinions and relationships must be formed by me alone with a fresh outlook."

With a tap again, he looked up at Tmoxin, sitting without a care in the world.

"If you do this right, you will have gained my trust."

Tmoxin Temi

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#26
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“I’m used to feisty. And don’t worry, I won’t lose her in the first week,” she smirked. "But I also won't extract her if she manages to get herself captured or detained. That's all you."
 
A serious expression replaced the more nonchalant one. “I’ve learned from my mistakes. I can promise your garrison will be impenetrable against most attacks as well as protected from a less conspicuous infiltration.”
 
Pressing a button on the console, a panel opened with a buzzing noise, which revealed a small mini-bar. Tmoxin selected a crystal glass rummer and poured a sepia-hued liquid inside of it. What they spoke about was still too sensitive to discuss in a sauna at the deluxe Morpho spa, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a drink while business was conducted.
 
“Now, onto your memories. Unlike the structure we’re building, I cannot your mind impregnable. But I can remove what you tell me to. The procedure will be done on Kamino and within a sterile and safe environment." Noting the facial scar she continued, "Looks like you’re used to a little distress, so I won’t worry you with the fact that it will extremely painful."
 
Sipping the brown, smokey liquid, her eyes closing as she savored the swallow, her palate reveling in the subtle hint of cherry underling the familiar flavor of Corellian whiskey.
 
“What happened to you? How did you fall? I saw glimpses of it, but not enough to get the full picture of just what drove you... so far down."
 

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#27
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Walking around the room to where Tmoxin brought out the bar - people relied on drink so much more it seemed than the Jedi - he took slow steps, not rushing as she talked.

"If she's captured or killed then that's her problem. The second she's here, you do what you want with her. If it keeps us in a state of trust then she's just fine here for me."

Coming to a stop opposite where the Commander poured her drink, the table between them and a few bottles of various colours and sizes, Connor looked at her while she made her diagnosis on him. He admired her gall.

"I am beyond pain. Pain pushes you and reminds you that you're alive. Pain does not deter me, so do what it takes to get them out." He tapped his temple. "There's a wealth of information here you can erase, but I will tell you what to keep for it will give us an advantage when the war comes. The faces and memories will fuel me for the right reason. Revenge."

He lifted his head and his eyes flashed at the thought of it.

"However, you're mistaken. I did not fall. I rose up. All I know is that on the dark world of Maena, the Sith Sorceress Matsu Xiangu finally destroyed the physical and mental resilience of the Jedi Connor Harrison, and partially due to his own sacrifice. He gave up the claim of the Dark Side and wanted to atone for his sins against the Light. So he did. He wanted to die." He didn't pause for breath, as if the story had been imprinted on his mind. "The Jedi did die, but the body and soul remained. There, with the Dark Side free to emerge from within, it consumed his soul and mind and the Sorceress patched up the body, enhanced it, and I was born."

He started at Tmoxin, in silence, to let her understand the man before her was more of a monster than he looked.

"My loyalty is to her, no Dark Lord or Sith Master. I will do what I have to in order to spread fear, death and chaos through the galaxy like wildfire and pull apart the Jedi piece by piece until I am satisfied."

A thought came to him.

"There is one face you must not touch. No relationship you must break. Coci Heavenshield. Leave her there. She will be dealt with in my own time."

The thought of what he could do to her, her family and her order brought a smile to his lips.

Tmoxin Temi

Edited by Connor Harrison, 03 August 2017 - 02:23 PM.

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#28
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Tmoxin sat the glass down beside her, her fingers idly tracing the rim as she listened to Connor explain what had taken place in the last two years. Her brown eyes were alert and almost cat-like in their focus. Listening, unblinking, absorbing. The information about the Jedi could be helpful to her as well if Connor would recite it into a transcription droid, but those details could be sorted later.
 
Matsu Xiangu. Now that was someone she recognized and now she could associate the name with the face of the sorceress she'd glimpsed in his memories.
 
“I spent some time upon the battlefield with Lady Xiangu, though I doubt she would remember me.” The Hapan specifically recalled Matsu scolding her for attempting to help Sage Bane as he tore his own limb from his body in his darkside rage. Now the fresh, aggravated scars upon Harrison’s face and body made much more sense. Despite the disfigurements and the black, metal arm, he was still a handsome man, imposing and alluring in his new corrupted form.
 
Her shapely eyebrows lofted at the mention of Heavenshield, a name she did not know. “What did she do to deserve such an esteemed place inside your head, Harrison?”
 

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#29
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Connor leant his elbows on the metal table, legs crossed behind him.

"Coci and Thurion Heavenshield were Masters of the Silver Jedi Order. Thurion was Grandmaster, Coci his High Master. Husband and wife taking over a Jedi Order for their own benefit until they ran it into the ground and fled." He began to copy Tmoxin toying with a glass bottle. "Coci was important to Connor and he trusted her, but she never trusted him and always took steps to ensure he never gained the power within the Order he deserved. If she did, we would not be here and he would have taken the Silver Jedi into new heights. Or lows. Anyway, when he fell and went looking to take back what was his, she used the Wall Of Light on him."

He glanced up to her.

"For a Force user, imagine having the sensation of not being able feel what you have all your life. As if you lost the ability to walk or talk, but you knew how, you just couldn't. She reduced him to a near mortal and cast him out to survive in the wilderness of Voss without his Force aura. It took months to try and get it back, but he never fully did reclaim a Master or Lord status."

He sighed and shook his head, tapping the bottle.

"Taking his lightsaber that once belonged to Jedi Anakin and Luke Skywalker, and the girl Rey who fought with the Resistance all those years ago, Coci broke Connor and had her husband banish him. So, for doing that, I want to return and show what she helped make, and make sure she sees her loved ones suffer the way he did and she feels the wrath of the Dark Side of the Force she tried to contain."

A few seconds passed in silence.

"Anything else?"

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#30
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Revenge - always a perfect catalyst for sweeping change. 
 
Tmoxin was less of an envier and more of an acquirer. She supposed being raised in a wealthy family on Hapes with access to schools and material possessions had primed her canvas, so to speak, to worry less about keeping up the with the Starchasers.
 
“I’ll help you in any way that I can… in your quest to ruin the Heavenshields. From a distance, of course.”
 
The Hapan wasn’t the type to sneak into a husband and wife’s bedroom and stab them as they coiled around each other in the cocoon of sleep. But she could certainly find others who would.
 
“The only question I have left is one that you may find it difficult to answer.” Rising to her feet, she turned to the side and stretched her lean form displaying a womanly silhouette down to the long, spike of her boot heels. She then turned back to Connor her legs snapping together with the kind of military precision that had been drilled into her over the years.
 
“This procedure requires you to be in my care - completely vulnerable - for at least a day, plus recovery time.” Her brown eyes glinted with mischief or malice - it would be difficult to tell which, though she smiled graciously.
 
“Do you trust me?”
 

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#31
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Trust. Such a short, simple word that meant so much. It was either earned and respected, or broken and loathed.

Connor had felt no shift in allegiance from Tmoxin, and she had been open, free and willing to help. Her goal was the same as his, but they were walking different paths.

"I trust you."

He took a bottle in his hand, examined the contents and smelt it, and then placed it back down.

"I have no reason not to trust you, and I know you know repercussions will be swift if that trust is broken. But you don't get anywhere without taking a leap of faith."

Connor stood up to full height, hands on the table; one black, one white.

"The sooner the better. There is an invasion soon, and I need to be there, so time must not be wasted. If you can start today, that will be best for us all."

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#32
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Location: Tipoca City
 
While the Morpho Lab had been her business for about two years, Tmoxin never got used to the torrential rain on Kamino and how dreary it always made her feel. And how ironic that her flagship company manufactured all kinds of pharmaceuticals and procedures to get rid of minor afflictions like seasonal affective disorder, but she rarely considered taking a pill in order to feel better.
 
As the Sovereign Stingray sailed for a landing - as usual buffered by a bit of unsettling turbulence from the wind - the Hapan CEO checked in on the state of the laboratory for Connor Harrison’s procedure.
 
In order to shield both of their identities, the operating room and adjoining rooms would be completely secure and Kaminoans would not be employed for this specific task. They would be humans or near-humans - still brilliant scientists - but with identification also obscured by masks. The goal, first and foremost, would be to successfully remove whatever memory Harrison deemed unnecessary, but second to that, the procedure needed to be completely untraceable back to Tmoxin, the lab or the scientists. And having long-necked Kaminoans bending over the human as they worked would be a surefire way to link this memory eradication with Morpho Pharmaceuticals. 
 
Because at the end of it, he would receive a holo-recording of the operation - kind of like one of those silly parting gifts when you went on a particularly scary ride at an amusement park. He could use the recording in any way he wished - as evidence that this had occurred or just for posterity. Tmoxin keep her own copy so that junior researchers could study it and continue to hone the approach as what they were about to do was still in the experimental stage.
 

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#33
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The rain fell and the calm waters far below the city could be seen.

Standing at the window of the small private room he had been provided, Connor looked out at nothing and thought about what this would mean. His greatcoat was folded neatly across the bunk, and his basic black jumper and trousers made him look so bleak, so normal, so human. No armour, no swathes of colour. Nothing.

The process to remove memories could leave him psychotic. It could leave him in a coma. It could kill him. Or, if done correctly, could make him feel refreshed and eager to forge new relationships and cut away the dead flesh of the past.

He would also need an identity.

Connor Harrison’s name could no longer be associated with the Dark entitity using his body, and so he would need a name himself.

There was time to find one with meaning, and the rain was a gentle comfort as it tapped on the windows while he waited to be called.

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#34
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Tmoxin opened the door to the private room slowly, and as though she noticed the hushed, reverent atmosphere in the room, along with the gentle cadence of the rain, she spoke softly with true empathy woven in and out of the words uttered in her clipped highborn accent. She did not wear a lab coat today, signaling she would not be administering the procedure, but would be there watching just the same. Her dainty, black sheath dress almost whispered the promise of the Hapan herself providing some kind of physical or emotional comfort during the ordeal, though he would not know for sure.
 
“The procedure is similar to a memory wipe on a droid but much more precise. Unlike a macro protocol, singular algorithms are written to identify a specific memory and target the neural pathways that make that connection. They are not only disrupted but completely severed. Why it’s painful is that you are required you to remain very still, but only under light sedation. Our test subjects did better when awake with no anesthesia. Of course, high levels of pain also interfere with the success of the procedure so we will put you completely out if things get too bad.”
 
She reached out with slender fingers to take Connor's hand, a lone ruby jewel glittering right above the knuckle of her right hand, leading him to the secure room where the memory wipe would occur. The space was completely white and sterile. Harrison would be reclining in a metal chair which would hold his head and wrists in place. It didn’t appear to be an uncomfortable chair, but the surgical equipment attached to it might make him think the odd angle of the chair would be the least of his pain.
 
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#35
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The time had come, and the rain continued to fall from dark clouds. Connor was led away by Tmoxin looking nothing less than a Commander or doctor if she tried, but she looked confident and in control.

As if a regal couple walking into a ceremony, Connor and Tmoxin walked the stark white corridor across a black and blue floor into the procedure room, the two doors parting with no sound. Inside the room, a long chair was fixed to the floor. Two large blue lights and scanners were positioned above on the ceiling and a computer terminal at the rear of the room with a number of monitors on the wall.

The procedure sounded simple and painful, but a necessary evil. Connor walked to the chair slowly, feeling like he was walking towards his own execution. He rolled up his sleeves, turned and settled himself in the chair, the cool metal evident as he sat.

He looked only at Tmoxin as an aide came to gently hold his head back and fix the electroencephalography monitor across his brow. Next, his wrists, the cybernetic arm fixed tighter to allow no movement at all in the stronger limb. Within seconds, he was sat and strapped in. There was nothing evident in the way of tools that he could see.

"You have it written down what I want removed. It’s up to you now to do it and allow me to be free, finally. If you don’t, kill me than try repair your botched mistakes, Commander."

Exhaling, the experiment sat still in the chair and waited. The pain would be worth it if he was allowed to have his own personality and memories rather that of a failed Jedi Master.

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#36
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Before she sat next to the chief surgeon, Tmoxin placed a black mask around her eyes.
 
The doctors and researchers also had their identities obscured with white, surgical masks so that the Hapan executive could film the procedure, give a copy to Harrison and keep one for herself.
 
She could see a gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. The Sith Knight appeared relaxed and unconcerned about what was about to happen. And aside from the fleeting thought of revenge for the harsh slap he’d administered earlier, Tmoxin truly did not want to harm him. Yes he is disfigured, she mused, glancing at his cybernetic arm, watching the mechanical fingers lightly drum on the arm rest, but he was an incredible specimen both as a human and as a Force user. Pulling up what he’d recorded into her datapad, she thought, what a shame it would be to pierce into the wrong part of his brain and have him come out of the experience irrevocably changed for the worst. 
 
A needle whirred from the back and his right side and like acupuncture, slid in with relative ease, painless so far. Tmoxin’s lips twitched slightly as she watched, but she was otherwise impassive.
 
“Don’t move, Harrison. Here comes the fun part.”
 
An IV in his human limb dripped a light sedative into his body and along with the drowsy sensation, he would begin to feel a burning pain where tiny lasers began to sever the neural pathways to the areas of his brain where the memories of his past would live to be replayed back like a holofilm. In his ears, he would be able to hear a strange sizzle though no odor could be detected.
 
“Careful, careful,” she remarked, ,sucking her teeth as she watched the monitor on which she could see the areas her surgeons were targeting. In a loud, clear voice that she hoped would ring through the sedation, Tmoxin continued, "Sometimes your memories will be played back during this process. We've found they are not pleasant ones normally and can be quite disturbing. Again, it's really important to remain still."
 

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#37
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Connor looked straight ahead. This was where it would change hopefully for the better. He may not even remember this if it went well and he came back around in a respite room. The prick of the UV line was sharp, but didn’t make him flinch. The needle that seemed to come from nowhere slid through the flesh. He felt sharpness in his inner ear, and his eye twitched a little.

As Tmoxin spoke, he looked at her and heard a few words as a drilling noise reverberating around his head, then he tensed and he tore his eyes up to stare through them to the back wall to focus and calm himself. Fingers, human and metal, gripped the arms of the chair.

He didn’t want to move, but with each sharp stab of pain that seemed to shoot down his spinal cord, his body tensed and jolted, which in turn made it worse. He had to work through the initial pain of the operation, which started to make him drowsy and want to give up, but there was no way he could afford to.

Images flashed before his very eyes, as if shone into his face with a bright light that left an imprint over what he could see. Distorted blues, reds and blacks of faces, weapons, buildings – imprints of the past, negatives of his memories shooting into his sight seconds after being cut. They each dissolved with ghostly disorientation. Slowly, his body started to gently tremble as the pain increased and he fought his own instinct to react.

All the muscles tensed in the top half of his body as it felt like electricity was being fed into her nervous system, but he suppressed any vocal protest. Connor closed his eyes to blot out faces, because now he could almost hear them calling his name.

”Connor Harrison!”

”…I never tried blue milk…”

”…you are weak; and embarrassment…”

As Connor’s body shook, his left eye began to weep blood, the stress causing the deranged tear duct to seep and let the crimson streak down his face.

”…to Iego, world of your dreams…”

He forced his eyes open and stared up at the blue lights above, riding out the process, breathing through short, sharp gasps.

Tmoxin Temi

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#38
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Tmoxin watched the procedure with fascination, and while her team had performed it on Kaminoans, humans and some other assorted beings, they’d never actually experimented upon a Force user. Perhaps that was some kind of x factor that would ruin the chance of success-
 
Her thoughts were broken by an urgent beep, beep, beep, beep of the monitor which had been recording Harrison’s vital signs.
 
“He’s slightly tachycardic,” she said to the surgeon’s assistant. Tmoxin rose to her feet and then walked up the subject, her black heels clicking across the white tiled floor. She noticed a few blood droplets below, before she noticed them on Connor’s face.
 
Taking some surgical gauze from a nearby examination table, probably the one they would load the Sith onto after he was done so that he could rest, she dabbed gently at the blood, trying to wipe it away. Through the crimson blur all he would see was the masked Hapan, appearing like a red-headed Angel of Death above him.
 
“How much longer?” she asked, pausing her impromptu clean-up.
 
“Almost done, Miss Temi. About ten more minutes.”
 
“Can we sedate him a little more so his heart rate slows?”
 
“No, but if it continues we’ll try something else that works on some patients."
 
Tmoxin didn’t like the sound of that, nor did she feel comforted by the way the procedure was going. And while there were plenty of memories she wanted to erase of her own, she was far too frightened of that chair to even consider it. During her tenure as a Dark Jedi, the Hapan was careful - some would say too much so - to not incur any scars or burns or wounds that would mar her appearance. Perhaps her vanity would be an impediment someday, but presently she took immense pride in her youthful comeliness.
 
“Not much longer, Harrison. You’re doing well.”
 

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#39
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”…I loved you like a brother, Connor…”

The restraining strap prevented his head from turning away. All he could do was close his eyes, but with the sound buzzing in his mind and the pain shooting through his body, his eyes were open and fixed onto the swirling blue lights above, two sets pointing down at him. Another image faded, another voice and explosion of lights, sound and places gone.

His wrists were shaking, his veins prominent and pulsing under the flesh of his one good arm as he fought to break free; the natural reaction of a man shackled under something some could see as torture. Fists clenching, muscles rigid, heart beating.

”…to be a Shadow, like you. Train me, Master…”

Before him, a swirling figure appeared from the blinding white lights of the room. Black and red and white, coming in and out of focus, a being hovering above talking down to him, reaching through and pulling his mind apart bit by bit.

Gasping for breath, Connor seethed as the pain increased more and he cried out in random shouts of rage, fighting the process and doing what he could to work through it. Whatever the being was, it was not going to take his life, not today.

”…failure as a Jedi and as a Sith, oh Connor…”

The hairs on his neck rose, and his body tingled with some horrid forewarning something wasn’t right.

His heart-rate increased, the monitors blinked and charted his rising resistance to the process hissing away inside his brain, needles piercing into his brain and probing his mind like a chunk of meat.

Tmoxin Temi

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Armour  | Hidden Blade | Cybernetic Arm | "I'm No Hero"


#40
Tmoxin Temi

Tmoxin Temi

    Blood Monarch

  • Character

    • Character Bio
  • 1613 posts
Tmoxin stepped back now as Harrison strained at his wrist restraints. His motion was undoubtedly causing the pain to worsen which in turn allowed his heart rate to skyrocket. The sounds of her heels echoing throughout the lab, the Hapan strode over to the vital signs monitor.
 
“Stop the procedure. NOW. I can’t have him dying. Not on my chrono.”
 
She expected the surgeon to press a button that would allow the needles to withdraw, but instead he punched in a sequence she’d never seen her team use before.
 
An electric current similar to Force lightning went directly through each needle, causing black-out style pain and numbness through Connor Harrison’s entire body, traveling from head to spine and all throughout his limbs, though the cybernetic one would remain unscathed.
 
“Mother of Kwath, what did you just do?”
 
“Don’t worry, Miss Temi. That current is no more or less dangerous than modern day electroshock therapy.”
 
And when tjhe electricity was administered Tmoxin realized that the chair resembled an interrogation chair, the kind Imperials had used for centuries in order to extract data from organics. After the initial burst, which showered blue sparks around him, Harrison’s heart rate began to slow again and the needles slowly withdrew.
 
“Why did you let this one live? When the other subjects went into crisis, you had me kill them right away?” asked the surgeon, a little bold for his station but still, curious to the Hapan’s interest in this one individual.
 
She thought momentarily, her arms crossing in front of her, relieved that she hadn’t murdered her new business partner. A droid began scanning the Force user for brain damage as he lay there.
 
“Because very soon the galaxy will kneel at this man’s boots. He’s far too powerful to lose.”
 

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