He looked over Commenor from the floor to celing glass windows that made up the walls of his penthouse. He almost wished he had a book, but he knew he wouldn't have time to read it. Commenor had been liberated and now he knew that it was his time to suffer in payment for everyone he had caused to suffer. He sighed, adjusting his tie as he slouched into the chair.
Kei knew John Locke told the Silver Jedi of his location. Kei used farsight to "spy" on his former friend. He saw Asaraa Vaashe recieve the news, he saw Asaraa decide to come and find him. He saw Asaraa telling people of her mission, he saw a Jedi agree to travel with her, a Jedi he didn't know. It was almost as if they thought Kei could be dangerous, like he was dangerous. Maybe once he was dangerous, but he didn't want to fight anymore, he was done running.
Kei looked towards the suit of armour in the corner, the suit that had been built by him and John Locke. Kei wouldn't need it, he wasn't planning on fighting back. He was done running from his past. His plunge into the darkside had happened, he wouldn't deny that, however it was in the past, caused by the Sith armour that he had been locked in for a year, the Sith armour that had nearly killed him.
Kei had learned much about the past however, about Darth Krayt.
Kei raised to his feet, taking a glass of scotch from the protocol droid who was walking around, cleaning and serving. The astromech droid was on the Flying Dutchman, was having a good time. The Dutchman itself had returned back into Kei's life, was currently outside of the Kashyyyk system where it would wait until Kei had been arrested and had served his time. Kei had given the crew orders to turn themselves over to the Silver Jedi command if he was gone for a while.
He sipped his scotch.
He looked over the planet again, closing his eyes. He felt the presence of Asaraa, she was close. She felt different, but she was close. Kei instictively reached to his side, sighing. He missed his lightsaber, the weapon he had crafted and carried at his side for over five years. He would need to craft a new one while in prison, or once he was released. Either that, or he would be given a life sentance, torn from the force and never allowed to craft a new lightsaber, a new weapon.
That was a fate he couldn't think about.
Then he heard the ding of the lift. It was time.