Foolish to Think

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie placed her bounty of supplies on the counter next to the small sink and food disposal unit, then placed her hands on the edge of the counter at either side of the sink. The tensing of her back was visible through the thin fabric of her shirt. A concussion. That seemed a feeble rebuke for what he must have done to her Prince. She wanted to pay him out the rest, but she knew she was no match for him. She was no match for anyone, it seemed. She remained in this position for a few moments before straightening and stepping away from the sink, then turning to pick up the plates, silverware and napkins, only to deposit them on the small galley table. She sat opposite [member="Brom Burnside"] and divided up the utensils between them.

"I don't know that I want to give you more information about him," she replied icily. "You've made clear where you stand on this man. You want to see him dead or at the very least behind bars. I want to see him alive and free." Her frosty brown eyes traced his features before softening marginally. "But since you're my only lead, I'll have to trust that when this shakes out I will be getting my way and you will be going home disappointed." She paused and peeled open one of the hotboxes.

"As far as things that make him unique... well. That depends on the scope of your question. If you're speaking from a galactic scale, then among other things: he is the only son of a royal house, a skilled warrior and he has an intellectual, scholarly mind with few rivals." Verie glanced up at him, her eyebrows furrowing. "If you mean how he is unique in my life... well, that's easy. He is the only person in my life who has ever looked at me and seen me - not the unworthy daughter of a tycoon or a prima ballerina or even a pretty young woman, but me. He is the only person who has ever really talked to me because he thought I had something to say. He looked past the identity that had been chosen for me by my family and saw potential. He wanted to see me develop, and--"

Here, Verie's voice broke and she looked down, snatching a paper napkin with which she staunched the sudden flow of hot tears from beneath her eyelids. She gulped loudly and sniffed before looking back up with red-rimmed eyes. "And I rejected all that because I was stupid, and scared. That's why I need to find him -- to make this right. I wish I could make you understand this, but I feel I can barely conceptualize the feeling to myself." Verie inclined her chin and shook her head. "What is this, anyway?" she asked impatiently, gesturing with her napkin at the hotbox she had opened. "It smells like starship coolant."

 

[Dissero]

Brom remained staunchly silent as she spoke, brown-grey eyes wavering only from the woman's face to follow momentary gestures or motions. Words that were ice quickly thawed into a fond warmth and he could detect her growing emotions well before the tears came. It came as no skill or effort of telepathy, but merely from the experience of a man married to the love of his life for nearly ten years. It was an instinctive thing to know, though if he were honest Brom would say he had never been quite so in tune to another woman's feelings outside of his wife as he was right now.

Thick brows knitted upwards as the man issued a slow, deep breath heavy with guilt and regret.

I do not wish the death of anyone, words he forced to remain unspoken.

When she began crying there came a very sharp, distinct desire to reach out for the woman and wrap her securely in his arms. He felt, for a strong moment, that he would have become a harbinger of death upon hundreds of thousands, he would have destroyed an entire world if it would only stem the flow of tears.

Brom Burnside grimace at the notion and forced himself to look away.

Her sudden change of subject, though an obvious move to turn the conversation, came as a relief.

"Diathim-Hair pasta in white wine sauce," he said, "it's very good, though that restaurant tends to go a bit heavy on the spices."

He stood, suddenly overcome with a need to be polite, and began serving the food. The hotbox before him contained steamed vegetables to mix in.

"Can you tell me a bit about what he did? You said he was an intellectual and a scholar..."

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie sat back and watched him serve the food, suspiciously watching his hands as he did. No poison tabs seemed evident, nor powders or serums. Still, it wouldn't do to let her guard down. "Thank you," she said grudgingly when he finished. She rested her forearms against the table, not yet picking up her utensils as she studied the food in front of her. After a moment she closed her eyes and began considering what she ought to tell this man. She didn't want to tell him everything about Dissero, for he was truly an enemy of her beloved Prince if ever there was one.

"He was," Verie said stonily. "And I hope very much that he still is," she replied pointedly before picking up her fork and using it to push her food around her plate. "He had a particular interest in items with certain qualities, that were somehow made with a specific purpose known to few and utilizing the Force. At least, that's my bare understanding. I don't pretend to exist on his level intellectually, and I haven't the experience in scholarly pursuits he has built over his lifetime. This man administered and impressive collection of ancient texts and knowledge-bearing relics and devices. He was recognized by peers and, I'm sure, by rivals as an archivist without rival."

She paused and frowned at her pasta before finally taking a vegetable to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and wiped her lips with her napkin. "He offered to teach me things and I hope only that I didn't miss my only chance to study with him, for it is an opportunity few will ever receive, and that none would be able to duplicate."

[member="Brom Burnside"]

 

[Dissero]

The man itched idly at his chin while studying Verie and her lack of enthusiasm for food. Sure, she might've been far too emotionally wrecked to eat, but he ventured a well-educated guess that she thought the food to be tampered with. Honestly, that sort of deal was for the Sith and Criminals. The sort of people who generally might be caught associating with a man like Dissero.

"So he was an Archivist of Force Artifacts..." his hand absently moved to his shirt collar, checking for something that wasn't there. What followed was a fleeting feeling of loss. Lost. Where is it?

Where is what?

The thought faded and he cleared his throat, "Did he work for any particular Archive or College? There are many galactic Archival networks - I don't recall his name ever coming up."

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie blew out a sigh; she could feel her patience slipping away. She adjusted her grip on her fork and took another bite of her pasta as she thought it over. When she had finished, she folded her hands over her plate, elbows resting on the table. She could almost hear her mother rebuking her but she didn't care; she was aboard ship, the rules had to be relaxed, and also Avadreia was dead so what difference did it make to her?

"I suppose it makes little difference now," she said. "Since the archives now stand empty. Or, if they are still in use, they contain none of the knowledge that made them noteworthy. He administered the archives at Rudrig, which contained the full balance of the archives once held at Dromund Kaas." Frosty brown eyes peered up from under heavy lids, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Any bells being rung by that?" she wondered before taking another bite of her pasta.

[member="Brom Burnside"]

 

[Dissero]

Brom's hand gave a sudden twitch at the mention of Rudrig and Dromund Kaas, dropping his fork to the table with a loud clatter. A bit stricken by both the information and the sound, the Jedi gently cleared his throat and took up the utensil again.

"Archives...at Rudrig..." visions flashed before his minds eye: field of purple, a long dark hall leading to a single room filled with dread. A ship. The silhouette of an old whiphid.

I was so ready to die upon the whim of that whiphid ... his dedication to the knowledge we stole was beautiful to behold.

A deep voice waxed loquacious, "Some where, beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me...."

It was the greatest heist in the history of the Sith. Never before had anyone so completely taken the Darkside Empire and its leader for a fool.

"...my lover stands on golden sands - and watches the ships that go sailing..."

Brom grimaced, brows furrowing, free hand moving to his temple where it shuddered at the mental barrage. When he opened his eyes there was a flash of blue in his irises. He quickly closed them again, willing his thoughts to quiet. When they opened again they pooled a steely-earthen tone upon Verie, "So he was the Mastermind behind the Rudrigian Heist ... an accomplice of Sith Master Velok ... I wonder ..."

The Great Holocron Auction.

The destruction of Osarian and Rhomammool.

Did [member="Verie Lacroix"] know about these things?

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie had reached the end of her rope. "But surely you know all about this, or else you wouldn't be hunting him," she said impatiently, her brown eyes growing hard. She sensed turmoil here, but the Lacroix patience was beginning to wear thin and the fabled Natasi genes were taking hold. "Honestly, whatever that so-called Jedi Healer did, I would go and ask for my money back."

She took a breath, trying to calm herself and hopefully, by extension, calm her companion, before answering. "Yes, you're thinking of the right man," Verie responded. "That was a big part of the reason why we... why I'm looking for him, now. I was afraid of what might become of me. But in the intervening time, I came to realize..." She fell silent for a moment, looking to the side to avoid making eye contact, as if she was admitting it for the first time to herself, less than to him.

"Quite simply, that to live as I have, without his friendship, is for me not a life at all. So..." she cleared her throat before looking back down at her pasta. "I must find him." She paused and took a drink from her water flask. "You must know what I mean, by now. Tell me what you know of him, please."

[member="Brom Burnside"]

 

[Dissero]

"I know very little of him, actually. I've come to find he was a very private, if not reclusive person that was very good at covering his tracks. For a long time I wasn't even sure he really was...who you say he is. It's a big galaxy, Miss Lacroix. There's a lot of Archivists, and there are a lot of copycats. But since your intervention, now I'm sure of it."

Brom, realizing he had yet to take a bite, leaned in to eat. The break gave him some time to think about how best to reveal what he knew to this woman who was, quite clearly, very emotionally unstable. Keeping her calm was key to getting any further here.

She might calm down if you ask her to dance...

Now that was absurd. The Jedi shook the alien thought from his head, as well as the accompanying visuals of Verie at recitals and performances that he had never personally attended.

"If it is true, then the man we both seek was responsible for not only the heist of the Sith Empire's archives, but was also part of the destruction of the star at Osarian and the loss of all those lives; the Great Holocron Auction at Contruum that resulted in chaos, death, and the proliferation of darkside knowledge throughout the galaxy; and numerous other murders since then. Now other than what I personally witnessed, there's no direct evidence to link him to anything. It's all based on conjecture and a lot of solid leads. Many people left the trail after the confirmed death of Sith Master Velok at the hands of the Jedi, but I never believed he had worked alone."

"Were you aware of any of this?"

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie paused, fork midway to mouth, noodle dangling. She could vaguely understand sauce dripping onto the plate below as she attempted to make sense of what [member="Brom Burnside"] was saying. Again, her Natasi side showed through; she was almost the mirror of a young Avadreia Natasi when she said, with a casual eye-roll, "Nonsense. Errant nonsense!"

It was, wasn't it? she asked herself. The results of the auction were made possible by the heist and auction, of course, but everyone who caused chaos and death was responsible for the chaos and death. "That seems rather a feeble analysis from you, Master Jedi," Verie replied, setting her fork down. "If everyone who set in motion any course of events that led to these sins was adjudged guilty of them, we'd all be in prison by now. Surely you can see the dangers of that kind of slippery slope."

Verie had doubts, it was true, but she wouldn't give this smug Jedi the satisfaction of making them visible. She drew in on herself as much as she could and gave Burnside a challenging look. "What are you hoping to achieve by attempting to poison me against him in this way?" she asked bluntly, picking up her fork again.

 

[Dissero]

"Poison you?" Burnside queried, "I'm trying to make you aware of a truth he likely hid from you. These type of people, his type of people, are very very good at fooling those around them. They've become experts at creating whatever reality they want you to see, this is the very reason I do what I do. If you could have seen what I have seen this man do," brow folding inwards, the Jedi frowned deeply, "I wish I had the ability to show you what I've seen. Maybe then you might believe me."

That headache was returning again, with a vengeance. He grimaced.

Why was it so hard to remain calm? He felt an anger growing, but not at Verie.

"I am not a man that builds his life on lies and deceit of others like the one you are so in love with, and I apologize if that's not appealing to you. The truth can be ugly and monstrous, but it's necessary."

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie stood up and pressed her hands flat to the table, taking a deep breath through her nose in what ended up to be a failed attempt to control her burgeoning temper. "You don't even know him," she snarled. "How dare you make judgments about him. How dare you make judgments about me for needing to find him? Whatever you think you know about him, what you know about me is at best fractional," she finished strong, building until she was shouting across the table at him, sweeping her plate up and hurling it as hard as she could at the sink.

It wasn't as satisfying as if the plate had shattered, but shipboard china was almost aggressively resilient, and it simply bounced off the hull with a plong! before clattering to the ground. It left a mass of noodles clinging to the wall before they realized defeat and smeared down into the sink.

Fuming, Verie paced away from the table and then back, picking up her silverware and similarly throwing them across the small galley. They clanged loudly into the sink. "Fine," she spat, at this moment unaware of just at whom she was angry - [member="Brom Burnside"] for his incessant chattering about a man she thought she knew; her Prince, for not being the perfect man she had pieced together from her memories; or herself, for being stupid enough to believe that she would ever achieve anything as meaningful as finding him. "I am enlightened. What bloody now?"

 

[Dissero]

Lips pressing firmly together and growing thin, the Jedi Master watched her as she fumed and vented. Within his mind, he recited the Jedi Code, he found confirmation in his beliefs of this man by reaffirming what he knew, and with internal meditation he did regain calm while Verie continued to spiral out of control. Her temper was dangerous and if she was Force Sensitive like he suspected, it would only lead to dark things. He wanted to press that issue, too, but now was not the time.

Perhaps, in finding the truth about all of this, it might help her to see the darkness for what it really was: a beast.

"Now, we retrace my steps and we head for Corellia, where this all began."

He was going to show her, in person, just what the catalyst was that started everything.

First, however, he had an angry woman to deal with, and if his experience with his wife was anything to go by, giving her the time she needed was likely a good choice, "I'll clean up, if you would like to rest or... take some time to yourself."

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie inclined her head, regaining her breath through deep breathing. She exhaled through her flared nostrils before going over to the sink. "You go," she said curtly. "Give the pilot our destination and the coordinates for landing. I'll take care of this." She grimaced internally, reflecting on the spectacle she had made of herself. "It's my mess, after all." She lapsed into the petulant silence of a punished child and set to work.

When she had finished scrubbing the galley to a shine, Verie retired to her quarters and took a hot greywater shower, then sat in the steamy fresher, cross-legged in another attempt to meditate. Thist ime it was no good; she could only think on the allegations that [member="Brom Burnside"] had made. Could Dissero really be the monster this Jedi was making him out to be? It beggared belief; she had known that he was involved in some dangerous things. But wide-spread murder and mayhem? It couldn't be.

Could it? She looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes her reflection as if she would find answers in her image. She found only questions.

 

[Dissero]

Ossus was quite a long ways away from Corellia.

So it came as no surprise to Brom the response this new destination elicited from the Pilot. Half a galaxy away, he said, it would take them nearly a dozen refuel stops to get there, he said, they didn't have codes to land on Protectorate planets - processing would take days, he said.

"Not to worry," the Jedi replied, "I have them. We'll take this route -" he tapped a few keys for the holomap display, showing the main hyper-routes, "Parlemian, Daragon, Corellian Trade Spine. It's not the most direct, but it's the easiest, plenty of refuel points," Brom then waved off the Pilot's concern for cost, "I'm on the clock," said Brom, patting the man on the shoulder, "it's paid for."

"If you don't mind, then," getting back to his feet, "once we reach hyperspace I'm going to go meditate. Clear my thoughts."

 

[Verie Lacroix]

What is the point of this whole exercise? The cold, clear voice that sounded in Vereis' head was not real -- could not possibly be real -- but seemed to lower the temperature of the room by just as much in death as it had in life. Let us pretend that you will somehow stumble into finding your heroic prince. And then what?

Verie took a deep breath, trying to focus as much as she could on the Force. She could almost feel her mother's overwhelming presence, and when she opened her eyes the trim figure of her mother was standing in the corner of the room, white hair cropped elegantly, long and slightly crooked nose that was so frequently being looked down. "I know you're not there," Verie murmured. "Which makes my talking to you--"

Asinine, yes. Back to the matter at hand, if you can bear to focus your magpie mind for one moment. What are you going to do if you somehow manage to find him? He will still be a prince. And you will still be... well. Verie could almost hear the disdainful smirk in her mother's voice. A ballerina. What is a prince supposed to do with that?

"You're dead," Verie replied blandly. "Or some twisted personification of my subconscious. Either way, you're not real."

Maybe not. But your concerns are real. And very well they should be. Your mother was right to discourage you from him. Even if he wasn't a murderous psychopath -- "Stop that." -- you're hopelessly out of your depth with him. What would you build a friendship on? Foolish girl. "If you would shut up, I would be able to think!"

That seemed to shut things down for a moment. She took advantage of the quiet by turning inward. She searched her feelings, trying to weigh the things that [member="Brom Burnside"] had said. Try as she might, Verie could not picture her beloved Prince in such an unsavory light. To be certain he had gotten involved in some terrifying things, but she didn't -- she couldn't -- see him as a cold-blooded killer.

She didn't know how long it had been when she let her eyes flicker open. She reached over to the intercom and asked over the public-address system: "Where are we now? What is our ETA? Where is our passenger? Nevermind, I'm coming to the cockpit."

 

[Dissero]

By the time she reached the cockpit Verie would learn they were still in hyperspace, speeding along - soon to make only the second stop in order to enter the Daragon channel. Their guest, as it turned out, was back in the crew quarters doing some weird Jedi meditation thing and hadn't been seen since he'd last exited the cockpit himself.

Brom was having quite a difficult time doing his weird Jedi meditation thing.

There was a disembodied voice that continued to interrupt, no matter what he did. A Jedi Master for over ten years, and he couldn't quiet his mind? This was rather an absurd state of affairs for someone who prided himself on his very solid mental sanity.

Apparently the voice, whom he'd come to assume was the very same that he'd been hearing for the past week, was a familiar of Miss Lacroix and it was rather perturbed at her current emotional state.

He sat on the floor of the room, sweat beading on his brow that was furrowed deep in forced concentration, an aura of Force energy so thick it was nearly palpable surrounding him. This rapport between two within his head was not going well, so far as he was concerned, and this was more than a bit disconcerting for the man.

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

Verie sat in the co-pilot's seat, feeling older than her years. The last few weeks had been emotionally draining, with equal parts guilt, frustration, worry, and fear. Now this [member="Brom Burnside"] had added doubt and anger to the mix, and she wouldn't thank him for it. When she caught sight of her reflection in the blast-shield the face that looked back was not the one she was accustomed to seeing. This one looked worn and tired. She had never felt or looked this tired in all her life, not even after ten hour rehearsals and marathon performances on stage.

"Where did everything go wrong?" she asked herself.

"Miss Lacroix?" the pilot asked, looking up from his system diagnosis.

"Sorry. Nothing. She paused and glanced over at him. "What do you think of our guest?"

"Weird," he replied, glancing back down to diagnostic readout. "Not at all what I'd expect from you. Don't you normally spend your days with the creme de la creme of Kuati society and arts?" There was a gentle ribbing in his tone and Verie felt her lips twitch up at the edges. How was it possible that this pilot, whom she had known for all of three weeks, was the closest thing she had to a friend? It was a sad commentary on her sad life.

"Perhaps I should go back to it." Verie said, closing her eyes and reclining in the seat.

"Shall I plot a new course, Miss Lacroix?"

"Call me Verie." She paused and added: "Captain." He didn't rise to it, or missed her signal for him to invite her to call him by his first name. She chewed her inner cheek. "No. Not yet - I need to see this through. And then... well, who can say. Maybe it is back to Kuat. Or Coruscant. Or Nar Shaddaa. Somewhere I can begin again."

"What are you looking for?"

Verie's eyes opened and she looked over at him, running her tongue over her bottom lip thoughtfully. Finally, she shrugged. "Hell if I know anymore. I thought I was looking for a hero. Someone who could save me from this pathetic excuse for a life. Even the best ballet dancer is only a ballet dancer, after all." She sat up and stretched. "But more and more it looks like I'm going to have to save myself. Any rate, is that saferoom still operational? And can we lock the door from the outside?"

"Of course. Any special reason?"

"I may have need of it," Verie replied simply. They enjoyed a companionable silence for a few moments before she added: "Do you want to get a snack or something? I can keep an eye on things."

 

[Dissero]

You're out of your league.

Jedi Master Brom Burnside was currently deep in meditation within the crew quarters, settled on the floor between the bunks lotus-style. He'd managed, for a short while, to clear his thoughts and center his mind. Attaining peace for what felt the first time in weeks - it came as a great relief, but apparently it had also opened up a doorway somewhere deep in his subconscious.

Brow furrowing visibly on the inert Jedi, Brom quickly attempted to push the alien voice back from the forefront of his mind.

The gentile women of Corellia can't compete with the edge of a Kuati aristocrat.

Strange, it was growing stronger - the complete opposite of what it was supposed to do. Brom tried once more, placing his mentality on lockdown. It was a specialty of his and he had put it to great use against some of the strongest and most dangerous Darkside minds of his time. He'd kept out Master mentalists with great effectiveness -

You can't keep me out.

What?

You can't keep me out because you can't lock yourself out of your own mind. It doesn't work that way. Eventually you find a hidden door...

Sweat began to bead on the Jedi's brow, a frown creasing his expression.

What do you mean?

There's a reason why she's so familiar to you, why you know every nuance of her Kuatian accent, why you can picture her dance routine step-by-step.

...

Why you knew her name before ever learning it.

Get out of my head.

I can't, the voice returned and immediately continued, why you called her Ve instead of using her proper title. Why you knew she liked pasta and why you knew she would help you.

Stop this.

You know because I know.

No.

Yes. You know because I allowed you to. I created you in this mind ... this mind that is mine, and now that we've cleared that up, I'm going to be taking it back.


Brom Burnside suddenly let loose a terrible yell, its echo through the ship accompanied by a pulse on the Force so powerful it made the walls rattle.

[member="Verie Lacroix"]

 

[Verie Lacroix]

As it turned out, the pilot couldn't leave the cockpit because they were approaching the next reversion to realspace, so Verie offered to bring him a drink and "something crunchy" from the galley. She was returning, passing by the crew quarters, when she felt something like a flash in the distance, at the same moment she heard a shout coming from inside the crew quarters. A split-second later, she something like a shockwave rippling through the Force, causing the bulkheads to creak and the doors on either side of the hallway rattle in their sockets. Verie stumbled, whether from the unexpected force of it or the surprise, and dropped the bottle of water and the bag of snacks.

"Miss Lacroix?" came the voice of the pilot over the shipwide intercom. "Do we have a situation back there?"

Verie's head cleared and she pulled herself to her feet, shouting down the hall to the cockpit: "I don't know. I'll let you know. Just keep us moving." She slapped the door control and stepped into the crew quarters. She unholstered her blaster and held it in front of her, pointed at the ground. "What happened?" she demanded, looking around for him. She finally found him on the floor between two bunks and pointed her blaster away from him. "Are you all right?"

Something wasn't right, here, Verie could feel that much in the Force, but what it was trying to tell her was not apparent to her. She felt uneasy, a hard pit forming in the base of her stomach. "Master Jedi?" she whispered timidly, flexing her fingers on her blaster anxiously. Not that she would ever actually use it, but it felt like a security blanket in her hand.

[member="Brom Burnside"]

 

[Dissero]

Brom Burnside's Force presence was positively burning through the ethers over his internalized struggle, likely Verie would feel the surge of energy as one might feel the heat of a voracious fire.

"Miss Lacroix....you should lea-"
"VE," a second voice cut over the Jedi Master's, and suddenly the griseled man looked up at [member="Verie Lacroix"] with a set of blazing blue eyes, "Ve it's me! Put down the gun, don't shoot!"