Private Not a Day Goes By | Invite

[Perseus Kotar]

Like fish in a barrel, thought Perseus. At least, if they'd had air support. The last several days had really shown him how much larger the scope of a fight was than just the hand to hand combat and exchange of blaster bolts. It really put it into perspective, being here with people who could barely conceptualize spacecraft let alone interstellar travel. He felt a scholar amongst juveniles - dangerously armed juveniles, at least. Even so, he had to admit that within their own limited understanding of the universe they were doing well. Better than the Uppers with access to ships and off world supplies.

They'd pressed the fight all day long and yet further still they had to push. Even Perseus with his advantage of being able to call upon the Force was feeling the fatigue. Legs ached from the long march, arms hurt from the constant carrying of supplies and constant bouts of battle. Brushing a loose strand of hair from his face, he was happy to take a knee and rest a moment as Ares stood to talk to his crew about their imminent battle plan. Careful to check which canteen he held, he drank from it, savoring the brackish liquid. It's an odd dichotomy, he thought. The low tech understanding of combat these people had and yet they seemed to forget some of the very core mechanics of warfare leading all the way back to ancient days of sticks and stones. Then again, he reminded himself, these people hadn't studied war or combat, or even trained for it.

The plan was a decent one by Perseus' measure, although what wouldn't have gone amiss is some smoke cover to mask their approach. Then again, it was extremely likely there would be cover fire and diversionary attacks coupled with the fact that the defenders in this case were apt to ration their remaining ammunition. By the sounds of it, Perseus would be joining Ares and Tiny. That last bit was going to be a problem. The two had been fighting alongside each other for the better part of a week or more but there wasn't a lot of time for Perseus to ingratiate himself beyond the day to day and hour to hour. Despite the man's lack of stature Perseus knew Tiny to be one tough customer - if it came down to it he didn't want to roll the dice against him in a brawl. Hopefully it wouldn't come to that.

Nodding as the orders were issued out, Perseus added, "Let's finish this."

Antares Demir ​

 

[Antares Demir]

SPACEPORT - IRVULIX V

No more than half an hour later, the first blast went off. Less than a minute later, the second went. Debris rained down around the spaceport, and the ancient building shuddered, groaning in response to the shockwave created by the blasts. The dust hadn't settled, the reinforcing rebar that now protruded from the gaping maw in the building's side still glowed red-hot as Ares clambered over the rubble and into the spaceport. He didn't know what to expect, but it was basically a repeat of The City. Disrepair, decay. The building looked all-but abandoned. A thick layer of dust covered most of what he could see, so thick that it was only partially disturbed by the explosion, so thick that it became almost greasy.

The plan had worked to some success; the men in the concourse were thrown off guard, their attention split. Antares felt no qualms about killing them. His carbine spit hard light, and more shots hit home than didn't. Two near a bench that had turned toward the explosion went down, one with a smoking hole in his chest, the other a sizzling, gurgling maw where his neck used to be.

It was tumult with a capital T -- at all three points of egress, shots were being exchanged, but almost as soon as it started, it was over. Three of Ares' squad were hit, and he couldn't tell how many of the other squads. There was no time to sit and tend to them, not yet. They had to make it to the center, to find Guirale, to bring him to justice before he could escape, somehow.

"Keep pushing," he ordered harshly into the radio, and he followed his own orders. Glancing at Perseus over one shoulder, checking on Tiny over the other. Both still kicking. Good. Move. He pushed further into the spaceport, following the footprints in the grimy dust. They had to come from somewhere, and maybe that somewhere was the central courtyard.

The building was only one story, despite its height. The ceilings were high, almost like a cavern, but with metallic struts to support it. Another of Guirale's men appeared from an alcove where he had sought cover. Somehow -- intuition or muscle memory or just fighting too much -- Ares could sense the danger, dropped into a roll just as the man popped out of cover and fired. The bolts sizzled through the air above him, leaving behind the scent of ozone.

"Fuck," he spat as he returned fire. Ares didn't know if his shot hit the attacker, but he went down all the same with a sickening cry. The fighting broke out again. Ares made to stand up -- and stumbled, his vision doubling in front of him. "What -- I -- " A blaster bolt seared through his uniform sleeve, burning his shoulder, and he fell back behind a crumbling duracrete column.

What's happening to me? he tried to cry, but his words came out in a tongue-tied mess.

Perseus Kotar | Andromeda Demir​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

​

Andromeda emerged from the little house she had grown up in and let out the breath she had been holding.

She had been expecting to find them there -- her mother, her father, Antares -- and she hadn't realized how much she wanted to see them. Needed to see them. But they weren't there. Nobody was there, in the little village where she had once lived, cleared out without so much as a note. She frowned, headed back toward the center of the village as if on autopilot. She stopped at the little graveyard, pausing to check if there were any new stones there, and there were.

Seven. The six that had died in the collapse, and --

There, carved by Antares' own hand, was Andromeda's name. The year of her birth and of her death. Cherished Daughter. Beloved Sister. Not Forgotten. Something terrible welled in her, from her gut up her sternum, a nauseating mixture of grief and rage and more that she couldn't say. It overwhelmed her, and Andy dropped to her knees before her own grave, her face crumpling, dissolving into tears. They were gone, they were all gone. She was too late; whatever had happened after she left had taken them all away. In anguish, she slumped forward, not bothering to muffle her sobs. There was no one here to hear them.

Except Baig.

He had given her space to find out what she needed to find out, but came running at the sound of his young charge in distress. "What is it, lass, whats'a'matter?" His eyes fell on her gravestone and he knelt beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. "Ah, lass," he murmured. "They'll be missin' you, o'course. O'course they will. But -- where are they?"

"I don't know," she howled in frustrated sadness.

He pulled her up to her feet. "There, there," he said. "C'mon, lass, let's -- where'd you go to get a pint 'round here? Over there? C'mon. Let's get sommat down ye."

Reluctantly, Andromeda followed him, suddenly embarrassed by her display of emotion. She wiped at her tear-streaked face with her sleeves covertly, and entered the workers' hall. It was as deserted as the rest of the village. Baig made a bee-line for the bar, while Andy -- arms wrapped around her slim frame in a self-soothing hug -- surveyed the place. She knew it like the back of her hand, or so she thought, but she had forgotten little details. The color of the chairs: brown, not the black she thought she remembered. The smell, of mine soot and soap and something she couldn't put her finger on. It was home, but not.

Andy stopped at the card table, where she had spent many nights watching her brother and his friends play. "It's not for little girls," Antares had told her with mock-seriousness. The cards were gone, replaced by -- maps. "Baig!" she called, leaning over the card table, with its unevenly worn surface, and studied the map. Arrows this way and that, she couldn't make heads or tails of. She recognized the village and the small cluster of villages around it, and the dirty river and -- there -- The City. Arrows pointing directly to it. "Look," she said as he came over with a bottle of amber liquid. "Do you think -- do you think they went to The City?"

That would surely explain their absence, and Andromeda's vision of danger for Antares. Her stomach flipped with excitement, and she snagged the map on her rush for the door. It flowed behind her like a streamer. Baig called: "What about the bottle, lass?"

"Bring it!" Andy cried with a laugh over her shoulder. "Come on! We need to find them!"

There was danger, still, terrible danger. But there was also hope that Antares and their friends might yet live.

Perseus Kotar | Antares Demir​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

Smoke, dust, and the smell of ozone were rounded out by the taste of copper in his mouth. Blood in his teeth. Perseus lined up the sights of his weapon on a human figure that had stepped out from behind a stanchion and squeezed. A quick blast saw the man crumple to the floor, another hostile taken out of the fight at the end of his weapon. Nimbly, Perseus darted forward behind cover as a flurry of shots sailed through the air behind him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ares, then heard him shout. Pressing his shoulder into the wall, Perseus glanced back in time to see a blaster bolt catch Ares and send him tumbling.

They'd made excellent progress but still were only about halfway down the corridor. Ares was down behind a crumbling bit of duracrete, a few of their comrades bodies littered the floor of the concourse, and here they stopped. "We can't get bogged down here!" shouted Perseus over the din. "We need to keep moving, or we die!" As if to reinforce what he'd said, another blast of bolts rained down on where they sought cover, these landing more closely and accurately than the last. They're closing in. Despite their own tactical smarts, Ares' group had now begun to get pinched. The only way out of the rapidly closing noose was through. Another glance over to Ares revealed to Perseus that his own trap was nearly ready to spring. Bad timing, he thought to himself. No matter, he'd handle this himself.

It would be a bit tricky to do without drawing suspicion but Perseus didn't see any other way. Counter to intuition, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Sulfur, dirt, blood, sweat, sensations of the battlefield. All of these Perseus pushed away and out of mind, his sole focus on the connections no matter how small, those living tendrils of the Force that permeated all things. In a matter of a few seconds he knew exactly where each of the assailants were. It was almost as if he could feel their intent, their fear, their desire for self preservation. Ultimately it would be their undoing. In a flash, Perseus went into motion.

Leaping from his position he raised his weapon towards the first of the few, sending off a single blast. Before it had even hit its target he pivoted on his toes, lining up another and squeezing the trigger. Two bodies fell in unison, clattering before Perseus even had time to confirm his hits for he had already spun to a knee. Without even lining up his sights he fired again, this time twice as his bolts found purchase in the chest of their third assailant. Then, silence. Exhale. Perseus reminded himself, letting out a breath of relief. They didn't have time to rest though, they had to break through. "Ares!" he shouted. "Come on, we have to keep going." Running across the corridor he hoisted the main up by the wrist and stepped forwards towards the entrance to the center ring. With one arm beneath Ares' shoulder and another propping up his weapon forward his feet pushed off. It was just ahead.

Antares Demir | Andromeda Demir ​

 

[Antares Demir]

The last week -- weeks? -- were seemed to be catching up with Antares Demir in the worst way.

His eyelids were heavy, and even the dim light of the spaceport's emergency lighting seemed too much for him. He seized something, pulled himself up onto one knee, then the other. The room spun around him. Someone shouted his name; it echoed and distorted, almost like that voice he heard -- when was it? A day ago, a year?

A hand seized his wrist, pulled him. He grunted in protest, but the man -- it was Perseus, his new friend -- spoke the truth. We have to keep going. He nodded, leveraged himself up with Perseus' help. Another body lodged beneath his other arm, a golden-haired head coming up beside his. Tiny. Small but mighty. He giggled deliriously.

Tiny moved in front of him, eyes peering at him intently, and a moment later Tiny's hand connected with the side of Ares' face. When the indignation and confusion resolved itself, Antares' head was clearer, his eyes focused a little better. "Gonna let you have that one," Ares said. "'mallright," he assured Perseus, and extricated himself from the two men. His shoulder ached where he had caught the blaster, but the wound was superficial, almost a glancing shot.

Ares lurched ahead, threw the doors open and emerged onto the landing pad. "Guirale!" he roared. "Come out! Let's end this!"

Guirale was an older man -- late fifties. He holed up about halfway across the circular landing pad, behind the stacks of furniture and cargo that were now repurposed as barricades. There were half a dozen guardsmen, the last of The CIty's corrupt forces, arrayed behind cover between Ares and Guirale. "Who the hell even are you?" Guirale shouted. Ares was still obscured; there was very nearly a maze of crates and things between the two groups of men.

"I'm Atlas and Andromeda Demir's brother," Ares shouted back.

"Who?"

Ares looked back at his crew, rage boiling over within him. This man knew nothing and cared less. Oh, he had to be punished. With a roar of "NOW!" he leaped over his cover. The City's guards fired at the charging villagers, and the villagers, including Ares, returned fire as they exposed their positions. Dead. Dead. Dead. Two of his squadmates were killed in the charge, a third took a blaster bolt to the thigh, but Ares pushed. Fatigue clawed at him, narrowed his vision. By then, he had Guirale at gunpoint, Tiny on one side. Where was Perseus? Guirale shook, his pistol pointing at Ares, then Tiny, then back.

"Kill me," Ares snarled. "You'll be dead before I hit the floor."

So concentrated on this encounter was Ares that it took Tiny's surprised cry to alert him to the enormous metal creature swooping overhead, belching fire as it descended upon the far end of the pad. His clothes rustled in the wind cast by the monster. Guirale took this opportunity of their awe-struck distraction to pull free of Ares' grasp and flee into the billowing fog that engulfed the metal beast that had at last touched down. The fog -- smoke? -- billowed, obscuring the crates, until Ares could barely see Tiny and Perseus.

"Stand back," Ares murmured, swallowing audibly. "I'm -- I'm going to get him. If he wasn't crushed by that... thing."

Perseus Kotar​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

The journey to The City, a week's walk in good weather, took mere minutes by way of Captain Baig's ship. She perched behind him, clinging to his seat, eyes scanning the landscape as it raced below her. The City was worse for wear from what she remembered; smoke still rose in columns dotted around the cityscape. But in the future, there were other signs of combat. She pointed toward the horizon. "There," she said, finger jabbing toward the estates. An hour's march, moments for she and Baig.

"I'll land at the spaceport," Baig said. "Don't know of anywhere else safe in these parts."

Andy nodded and turned, shrugging into her cloak. She pulled the hood. "Be careful," she whispered to him. "I sense -- great danger here."

The ship was already swooping low, the thrusters softening its landing. The viewport went dark as they settled into the shadow of the spaceport building. Baig stood, but Andromeda hesitated in the doorway. "I think you should stay here," she said anxiously. "If something goes wrong -- if something goes bad -- you should be able to get away."

"I'll not leave ye, lass," Baig promised, and Andromeda felt a flood of warmth and gratitude well up in her.

A hard lump in Andy's throat resisted her efforts to swallow around it. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me," she insisted. "Stay, please. Until I give you a signal."

Baig frowned, then sighed. He tossed Andy a comlink earpiece. "Take this, at least. I'll be able to hear you if you need help." Andy nodded and she tucked the earpiece in. "Good luck, Andromeda. May the Force be wi'ye."

Andy went to the ramp and slowly walked down it. She opened herself to the Force, let it flow in her. She sensed people, she heard their presence in the Force and, for one, his footsteps on the duracrete. An older man resolved in the fog right before bumping into her. She stepped out of his way and he spun on her, lifting his blaster. Andromeda let her instincts take her; she seized his wrist, flipped her over her shoulder and into the ground. He was an older man, with pure malice in his eyes as he glared up at her.

"You're not Ondanto," he seethed, a curious mix of anger and confusion.

Andy didn't know what he meant. She picked up his blaster from where he dropped it and hauled him to his feet. He was too well-dressed to be a miner; his hands looked like they'd never held a tool, and his midsection said he had never felt hunger. She tamped down on the anger that flared within her, and lifted the blaster to point at him. "Tell me what's happening here -- "

A voice called out in the distance. Stand back. I'm -- I'm going to get him. If he wasn't crushed by that... thing.

The voice was distorted by distance, by the echo of the landing pad.

"Please," the man said. "They'll kill me. They're killing everyone!"

"Who?" Andy spat.

"Oh, who knows? The people," he sneered. "The people in the villages and -- who knows? Nobody comes here unless I call, so -- take me out of here, already, and I won't tell your bosses you threw me to the ground and are pointing a gun at me."

"You're part of The City." Not a question. An indictment. "This -- rebellion -- tell me. Where is Antares Demir?"

"Did you say Demir?" asked the older man. "You people."

"Move," Andy said, gesturing with the pistol back towards the shouting voices. "We'll sort this out."

The revolutionaries would see Guirale slowly materializing from the fog, arms raised, and behind him a few paces, materializing a few moments later, a slight hooded figure holding a blaster. "Don't shoot," Guirale begged as Antares lifted his carbine, his shoulder aching from the blaster shot. Andromeda remailed silent; she sensed the danger, that same acute malevolence she had sensed in her dream. A cold spike of fear pierced her, and she was struck dumb, suddenly feeling outside of her depth.

The shadow was here.

Perseus Kotar | Antares Demir​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

The sheer speed at which things devolved was shocking, even to Perseus. One moment they were making a final assault, the next, a ship had swooped in, kicking up dust, and dirt in its wake, forcing them to pull back as its engines flared. Perseus had ducked behind a massive generator while the rest of them had fallen back behind a jumble of shipping crates and turned over carts. Looking across, he could see Ares and Tiny, the sound of the vessel's engine spooling down but still too loud for him to make out what was being said. Then, Perseus saw Ares raise his carbine, a figure stepping forward out of the fog. Guirale, presumably. With each step the man became easier to see, hands raised in surrender.

Perseus could feel the Guirale's fear before he could see it etched upon his features. A thickness to the air that smoke nor kicked-up dust could match, it was ethereal. A renewed energy filled Perseus' arms and legs as he prepared for what came next. Rising from his crouched position he faced the oncoming figure then stopped abruptly, his chest tightening as if a bolt of lightning had pierced it through. An exhale of breath filled his ears, time seemed to slow. Behind Guirale, obscured by the whirlwind of dust and smoke yet another figure stood amidst the turmoil. Perseus' eyes drew tight, a blinding radiance emanating from the shrouded form, not physical but blinding all the same. A... Jedi...? Perseus' mind fought to understand what was happening. Here? There was more at play here than he knew, more than Zevran had cared to share. It doesn't matter, he forced himself to push past his momentary paralysis. Who was this? What were they doing here? More importantly, why had Guirale surrendered to them if this had been their escape? The pieces weren't adding up but he could abide his hesitation no longer.

"Stop! Who goes there!" he shouted, fear threatening to crack his voice.

He knew precious little of the Jedi, only that they were dogmatic and naive. They were zealots in service to ideals. Zevran had warned him not to underestimate them, to strike first and ask questions later - but with a Jedi right here... at least, he assumed they were a Jedi, it was the only thing he could think of to explain away the violent flash of light and the force which pained his chest. Danger.

Perseus raised his weapon but not at Guirale, at the partially obscured figure behind him.

Antares Demir | Andromeda Demir​

 

[Antares Demir]

Antares felt something.

The uncertainty, the anxiety with just a sliver of optimism ahead of him. Separate, somehow, distinct: the fear. As if they were two different voices whispering, one in each ear. He peered at the figure emerging from the billowing fog. Who could it be? Had they come out of that metallic beast? Was it some sort of vehicle? But how? From where?

He was so tired. He couldn't make himself think of it.

"Hold," Ares instructed Perseus. From his angle, the man's blaster could only have been pointed at Guirale. That wasn't right. Guirale would face justice, a tribunal, not the point of a blaster. Ares took a step and stumbled against the crate. "Fuck," he spat, then turned to Tiny. "G-go get him. Guirale."

He raised his voice, trying to project authority, even though he could barely keep his eyes open. "Guirale... you're under arrest... for the criminal exploitation of the people of this world. Surrender to my lieutenant and you will not be harmed. If you resist, we will respond with force. And whoever that is behind Guirale -- put the gun down. We mean you no harm if you mean us no harm."

By then, Tiny was warily approaching, his blaster warily shifting between the hooded figure and Guirale. Ares turned, slumped against the durasteel crate, and glanced for Perseus over behind the generator. He nodded his head towards Tiny's slowly receding figure. Go with Tiny. Watch his back, the gesture said. Do what I can't, his bleary dark eyes pleaded. Watch over my brother.

"Stop," the voice said softly. Too far, still, for Ares to really hear it. "I don't know this man and I'm not here for him. I'm looking for Antares Demir. It's critical that I see him. Please -- is he -- is he still alive?"

Tiny recognized the voice before he knew it; it was out of place, but more than that, out of time. But his heart leaped in his chest, a sensation he hadn't felt since -- "Andromeda? No, it -- it can't -- who are you?"

The figure stopped, pushed the hood back, eyes wide and shining with tears. "Tiny!" she gasped, clearly delighted and relieved. "It's me -- it's Andy. Oh, by the Light." She was overcome. She wanted to run at him, embrace him, but the people with guns -- the presence of darkness here, somewhere -- made her reticent. "Tiny, I need to find Ares, he's in -- hey!" Guirale had taken this moment of distraction to spin and dive at a stack of crates. Tiny was faster, caught him by the hair, yanked him painfully back. Blaster jammed to his neck. "Don't try that again," he advised, then raised his voice. "Ares -- Ares, I -- "

He's here? Andromeda moved past him, momentarily distracted from the presence of darkness. Dark hair blew in the artificial cyclone caused by the ship's thrusters, finally dying down as the dust and smoke finally began to dissipate. "Antares!" she called, moving toward the barricade from which Tiny had emerged. She could feel him now, a waning presence, being eclipsed by -- by shadow!

Ares must have been hallucinating. When had he last slept soundly? How much blood had he lost? Someone calling his name. Mother? Why was she here? He struggled to pull himself up, leaning heavily against the barricade. Peering over it through his fevered consciousness. Not Mother. "Who -- who are you?" he stammered. "Get away from me. You -- you're -- this is a trick. It has to be." Antares fumbled for his blaster; why couldn't he raise it, why couldn't he aim it? What was this thing coming toward him, wearing the face of his dead sister? "Stop! STOP! NO!" He tried to scramble back, only managing to trip over his boots and land on his ass, banging his head on the duracrete.

"Nnngh," Ares grunted.

Tiny put up his arm to halt Andromeda's process. "Just -- wait," Tiny said, squinting at her suspiciously. "Stay there. Just -- stay there." He shoved Guilare roughly, half-pushing, half-dragging him toward Ares' position. Something wasn't right, here, something didn't add up. Something was wrong with Ares, and this doppelgänger of Andromeda was clearly upsetting to Ares -- and to Tiny himself.

Andromeda gazed anxiously after Tiny for a few moments, then allowed her dark eyes to sweep the area. More armed men -- men whose faces she couldn't see, but whose clothing she recognized as the roughspun of Irvulix V were filtering in through the distant doorway, and she noticed the bodies of others scattered around now that the smoke had cleared. And then there was the face of a stranger. Her eyes met his and she froze, an icy spear of fear at the realization. Despite the beauty of his features --there was no denying that -- she saw only the shadow from her vision. Here. With Antares. For how long?

"It's you," she gasped. Like a flash, her hand raised the blaster she had confiscated from Guirale. "Drop it." Her hand trembled, but her voice was like iron. A bluff, no doubt. "Drop it, Shadow."

Perseus Kotar | Antares Demir​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

Perseus held his ground and stopped his advance but refused to lower his blaster. A foreboding sense of unease settled across his shoulders as the shrouded figure came into better focus. A moment later Tiny began to advance again, slowly. Given the nod, Perseus mirrored the shorter man's pace as they closed in on the pair of figures in front of them, at least until Tiny heard a woman's voice. Perseus narrowed his eyes, the unsettling sensation finding the very pit of his stomach. Tiny knew this woman? Then she asked after Ares. Standing to the side, Perseus watched it all unfold before him. His feet felt leaden, his mind raced. Only once Guirale had tried to escape did his momentary paralysis relent.

Everything seemed to move slowly, not in slow motion as if time had stopped but like people were moving through molasses. For a moment he began to wonder if he had mistakenly drank from the same canteen as Ares but he dismissed that almost immediately. He had not. He knew it. Taking a step forward, things began to move in real-time again. He raised his blaster higher this time, finger gently resting on the trigger as he advanced on the woman step by step. His eyes locked intensely on the woman, the threat, the danger - he could feel the fear inside of himself, like an itch that couldn't be scratched bubbling up from below. Good. Use that, he told himself.

Perseus had only made it a few steps closer before he was stopped in his tracks, the woman's eyes meeting his gaze. In a flash the blaster she'd held at her side found itself pointed at him, each one a breath away from firing at the other. "Drop it," the woman had said, a hint of uncertainty echoing in her voice. Perseus shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Why would I do that?" he said, an eyebrow rising. It felt for a moment that they were the only two people there. Tiny and Ares, the other fighters, everything faded, muted, muddled, but Andromeda was clear as day. He could taste iron on his tongue again, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Instinctively, Perseus raised a Force Bubble around himself. Invisible to the naked eye, it would protect him from any attempts at this Jedi's manipulation. "You're with the Uppers!" he said audibly, louder than he might have. "Seems it's us who have you surrounded and outgunned. Why don't you drop it?" he questioned. Perseus could feel the anxiety well up in his chest. He would have to make a play soon. The ship was there, Ares was there, but so was this woman - a Jedi no less. Or, so he assumed. His options were in flux, the situation casting a shadow across the outcomes of his plans. Whatever he was going to do, he'd need to decide quickly. Unless the woman decided for him.

"Go back where you came from and you might stand a chance. Stay, and meet your fate," Said Perseus, an ominous tone edging into his voice as he lowered his blaster and then let it go completely. It fell to the ground with an audible clatter, his hands hovering around his waist. "What will it be?" he asked.

Antares Demir | Andromeda Demir ​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

Andromeda shivered as she felt the Shadow draw on the Force. There was nothing in it that she could feel or sense to tell of his intentions. But she knew enough, she knew like a certainty in her very core, as sure as she was that her name was Andromeda, that the Shadow was trouble. He was dangerous, and his accusations bore that out. "With the uppers?" she asked. "What are -- no, it doesn't matter. I know you. You're not one of us."

She squinted at him, suspicious, dark eyes piercing. She could not understand his presence; who came to Irvulix V? It was as unheard of as someone leaving it, yet here they were, perhaps the only two in living memory who had done it. He had machinations here, that much was plain, but she was not skilled enough to read it.

"I will not abandon my brother," she called to him, her voice raised to carry across the pad -- and back to Antares. Tiny kept his grip on Guirale, paralyzed with indecision. It was becoming clear that Ares was incapacitated, somehow, and Tiny was his ostensible second in command. But seeing this avatar of Andromeda had shocked him to his very core.

"I will not leave her without him," Andy reiterated. "And whatever you've done to him, you will undo it. If you wish to stand a chance." There was a twinge of recognition of his movements; she had done it a hundred times before, drawing her lightsaber for a spar at the Jedi Temple. Her eyes widened when her eyes alit on the hilt of his weapon, partly obscured by his tattered clothes. Too late now, she realized, automatically shedding her cloak with one arm as the other snatched her lightsaber.

The blue-white blade erupted from the hilt. Jedi are peacemakers, she remembered from her lessons. Andy took a breath to steady herself. "This need not come to blows," she called across to Perseus, "But it's entirely up to you."

Perseus Kotar | Antares Demir​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

You're not one of us. This was true, Perseus was absolutely not one of these abandoned, forgotten, rock wranglers. What he did share with the two however was an affinity for the Force.. a fact that he had just now come to realize the significance of. Ares. Andromeda. Two peas in a pod, two children of the same line - fates intertwined. Siblings.

The woman did her best to present a choice but Perseus had already made up his mind. It took no time at all as the woman's bright blue-white blade came to life for Perseus to find his own in stride. With almost supernatural speed he lunged forward, blade answering the call to hand as a violent crackling hum emanated from Perseus' crimson blade. The distance closed he pulled up short, raising the blade high. It was an aggressive stance, suited to his fighting style, powerful strikes from above might let him overpower the more slender woman. He had no quip, no comedic retort to the woman's offer. They both had to know that peace, here, was never an option - and Perseus accepted it. Would she?

With a powerful shout, he lashed out, swinging powerfully from above at the woman as he stepped into his swing. Powerfully but measured, it was too early in the fight to commit fully. Over commit and he would be bested swiftly, as Zevran had taught him time after time. He pressed her backward, advancing a step, then another. Even now he felt the lingering twinge of the training blades against his body - motivation towards success. "I do nothing," he shouted. "It is you who casts a spell on him. Begone!" Perhaps if he could sow confusion with his words he would find an advantage yet. A way to come out ahead despite the absolute dumpster fire his original objective had become.

This time he swung horizontally, blade moving nimbly. She would no doubt block his initial swing and so he prepared, using the momentum from the clash of their blades, Perseus made a secondary attack, quickly directed at the woman's opposite shoulder, rolling the blade above her.

Andromeda Demir | Antares Demir ​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

Andromeda was slight, and shorter than Perseus. His aggression set her back on her heels and she moved, twisting free of her cloak, before she was able to bring her blue blade up in a defensive posture. She levered it up, deceptively strong despite her size and apparent waifish nature. She had spend two years in the mine, hauling heavy water barrels up and down for the miners. If nothing else it had taught her balance and stamina. Training with the Jedi on Coruscant she had honed and strengthened her skills. She had no intention of allowing this Shadow to walk all over her.

He was fancy with his blade -- stylish, almost. Andromeda had no such luxury or finesse, and so she simply did what she had to to survive the encounter.

The thought confronted her with the question: could she kill a man? Would he push it that far?

He swung at her, a horizontal movement, and she danced backwards, out of the way, a meter closer to where Ares slumped against the cargo crates and Tiny stood with Guirale. The movement left her in a better position; she was able to bat his follow-up attack away with surprising strength, following through with this swing with a roundhouse kick aimed at his midsection.

"Take him," she shouted over her shoulder at Tiny. "Get him out of here, it's too dangerous!"

Then what? a voice asked in the back of her mind. The Shadow will kill you if you give him the chance.

Andy determined not to give him the chance, then. And if the worst should happen -- well, to Ares, Andy was dead already. Who else would notice, much less care? Baig. Perhaps the pretty golden-haired padawan she had confided in. But everyone else who knew her, who had a reason to care, thought she was dead already. This lightsaber-wielding woman who smelled of off-world was nothing to them, worse than nothing.

Tiny couldn't move Antares and Guirale both. He told two of the men with them to help Ares.

Andromeda kept her blade in a defensive posture, shifted a little, instinctively putting herself between the Shadow and her brother and friend. "Get out of here," she spat fiercely at Perseus. "While you can."

Perseus Kotar​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

The woman moved quickly, his attacks rebuffed as she met each blow with her own shimmering blade. With each contact of the blades, a harsh sound echoed in the air, interrupting their audible hum. Gracefully he pressed forward, blade held out in front of him now as the two had shifted. His eyes twitched, analyzing the woman's stance as best he could, she would have a weakness he just needed to find it. Almost playfully he tempted her blade with his own, feinting a strike with his body but then holding back before the blow was thrown, watching her movements. "I gave you a chance to leave," he said. Perseus shifted his weight from back foot to front as he stabbed towards her midsection, careful not to overreach. In a flash, the blade was back up between them, this time the point of it nearly horizontal to the ground. With a smaller profile, the blade would be harder to see and thus his attacks would be less telegraphed. His high position had not seemed effective, perhaps with this he would have better luck. "Tiny! Shoot her, whatever she is!" he yelled, prying at the man.

A thought occurred to him before he made another attack, a recent experience sparking an idea. He could see it, visualize it into being. Deconstructing his stance he stood, blade in one hand and the other empty. Drawing upon his own fear, his own anxiety, he moved the empty palm in a sweeping motion. He called upon the Force, bent the very air to his will, and sent the woman's discarded cloak hurling in a whirlwind of fabric towards her hands. Force exerted, as the cloak flew towards her he gripped his lightsaber's hilt with both hands and struck again from above. She could move fast enough on her own, but distracted? He'd find out momentarily. Continuing to step into his attack and beyond, he ducked below her guard and drove his shoulder hard and fast toward the woman's sternum. Fighting was more than using a fancy blade to parry and misdirect, you had to watch out for the body too - the lightsaber was, after all, just an extension of one's body wasn't it?

His movement was practiced but not perfect, his almost catlike agility allowing him to expend less energy and yet he could feel the weight of the last several weeks upon his shoulders. He needed this to end, he needed to finish this and move forward. This, Andromeda, was a roadblock. A roadblock to his progression and a roadblock to his success. There it is. An urgency filled his body, a flicker of extra vigor burning as an ember deep inside. Use that anger, use that fear, a voice echoed in his mind.

Andromeda Demir | Antares Demir ​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

"This is my homeworld," Andromeda hissed as their lightsabers spat against one another, energy crackling along the blades and in the dagger-glances they traded. "Why should I -- " Her gasp swallowed the rest of her answer when he thrust his blade at her middle. She stepped back, bringing up her own blue blade to bat his away. His thrusts didn't seem too aggressive, almost like he was testing her, taunting her.

Tiny! Shoot her, whatever she is!

"You son of a whore," Andromeda spat, repeating the slur she had heard her brother utilize against The City's administrators for years. "Don't try to turn them against me. It'll never work." More bravado than certainty; she chanced a glance over her shoulder to be sure Tiny hadn't raised his blaster. He still seemed to have a hold on Guriale, too interested in keeping him in place to respond to the Shadow's instructions.

But she was distracted, too, and she found herself tangling with the cloak, the fibers burning on the blade while the shreds of the fabric blinded and bamboozled her temporarily, until -- with an anguished cry, she took Perseus' shoulder right to the sternum was thrown back nearly two meters. Pain and fear radiated from the impact, pain from the blow, fear because she couldn't catch her breath, couldn't breathe --

Andy struggled to get a hold of herself, and the panic took her. She scrambled, rolling to one side to be on her stomach, shedding the scraps of the cloak with her movement, before hauling herself to her feet with some difficulty. Tiny had lurched toward her, reaching out with one hand almost instinctively, as if to help. "Get back," Andromeda cried. He was too close; anything could happen. She summoned the Force, felt the Shadow's fear and rage and urgency. She felt -- powerful, then. Was he afraid of her? Good. He should be. Drawing the Force into herself, she let it refresh her, and she struck true, and hard, with as much force as she could.

"This ends now," she gasped breathlessly, her almost black eyes alight with the blue-red-white flashes of color captured from the blades and the flashes they caused. Their blades crossed, and she pressed her advantage, gritting her teeth as she used her leverage to push their blades closer and closer to him. "These people are under my protection," she said, trying not to show the exertion that it was costing her. "I won't let you take them."

Perseus Kotar​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

As the woman scrambled to recover, Perseus pressed forward; each step brough him closer. Keep her on her toes, don't give her time to think. In moments the two were upon each other again. It was urgency against urgency, strength against strength. For a moment Perseus had felt like he'd had Andromeda on the ropes but the fierceness of her counterattack was resolute. Their blades locked, both of them struggling for an advantage, fighting for control. They moved together, almost a dance of sorts, their blades crackling violently and sparks flying around them. Intentionally, Perseus gave up some ground, rotating his position, continuing to guide the woman closer and closer to Tiny and the Upper - Guirale. "This ends when I end it!" Perseus shouted, renewed anger flashing behind his eyes.

Perseus had a distinct height advantage on the woman; advantage which he would use to his benefit. With their blades locked, Perseus pushed off his back foot and threw his left foot at the inside of Andromeda's right. Get her off balance. That was the key to victory. He pushed with all his strength as their feet came into contact; a sudden and final twist of his wrists sent their blades careening to the side. In an instant the tip of his blade was back to center, his left foot swinging out and behind him as he took up a side-facing stance, saber held in a single hand - graceful almost, like a fencer. A sly smile tugged at the edge of his lips as Perseus observed the woman's response, eyes shimmering almost gleefully as he flourished.

"Uh oh. Tsk tsk," Perseus shook his head, motioning to the woman's side.

In spite of his arrogant composure, Perseus was spent. Every muscle in his body ached, the weeks of fighting were finally catching up to him and if he wasn't careful he'd soon end up in the same boat as Ares. He fought against his instinct to breathe heavily, instead using the Force to still his own heart. Conserve. Recover. Survive. If Andromeda were to push him again, he wasn't sure he could match her ferocity. The gamble had come with a physical cost. His own exhaustion, yes, but something more. The smell of burnt fabric, sweat, blood, and burning flesh rose to his nostrils and his eyes bored into Andromeda. Perseus could taste blood in his mouth but it wasn't his blood he was smelling.

Andromeda Demir ​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

It was such a struggle to maintain the position, to press the advantage, that she couldn't spare much energy for anything else. Teeth gritting together so hard her jaw ached, she kept the fight, pressing, blades spitting fury as their wielders willed them to do the impossible, to slip the bonds of physics and strike their intended target, but neither yielded.

She couldn't even muster a quippy retort. The Shadow had her on the back foot, quite literally. His maneuvers set her back, made her widen her stance. Her balance became precarious, and she lost the leverage she had on her blade. She let out a cry of frustration as his manipulation of the blade caused it to swing wide -- out of control.

There was the slightest, barest suggestion of resistance as Andromeda cleaved Guirale and Tiny, each nearly in two. So delicate was it that she sensed the spark of fear -- confused it with the Shadow's own -- and nothing else. Not until the smug devil gestured, chiding her. She spared a glance and recoiled instantly, panic seizing her. Tiny twisted unnaturally to one side, held together by the part of him not severed.

"No," she insisted, blinking hot tears that threatened to blind her. "No, no, NO!"

Andromeda wrenched her gaze from the horror of Tiny and Guirale's forms, gushing blood onto the landing pad, to the Shadow. She wanted to accuse him, to bring him to justice, but -- no. A voice inside her head whispered: Your fault. All your fault. With a grief-stricken howl, she took advantage of his pause to show her the horror her foolishness and lack of discipline had wrought, and righted her posture. She seemed taller somehow in her fury, her gaze pointed like daggers, and with a roar of unbridled rage and grief, she drove at him, swinging her lightsaber as hard as she could, over, and over, and over, and over. The advantages of not caring if she lived or died meant she could attack with most effect. Liberating. Something coursed through her, something dangerous and seductive and powerful.

Beware the Dark Side, a warning voice whispered within her mind.

Use it, another cooed in her ear, soft as a lover's sweet nothing.

Unknown strength and vigor infused her, empowered her, but it was burning fast. "I'll kill you," she screamed at Perseus. "I'lLLKILL YOU!" She felt her blows grow sloppier before they lost strength, but she would not relent until he was a sad smear on the duracrete.

Perseus Kotar​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

Perseus waited, a cruel smirk lacquered across his features as the realization of what had happened seemed to sink in. He could feel the panic and fear emanating from the woman, but the power of what came next, Perseus was wholly unprepared for. At first, it was as if a single note had been played, then a chord, then a chorus - a symphony. Power exuded from Andromeda, a violent force of uncontained and unrelenting rage. Barely did he have time to square his stance before she was upon him, her blade flashing seemingly from multiple directions at once. It was all Perseus could do to block each swing; there was no way to even entertain pressing a counterattack. First the right, then the left, high, low, in between. It was a flurry of blows, and with every swing, Perseus could feel the woman gaining strength. He knew that sensation well - the drive, the strength, the infusion of power. "Intoxicating, isn't it?" he thought between strikes.

One step backward, then another. What was only several seconds felt like a lifetime, blades clashing like thunder, flashing like lightning each time they crossed. He gave, and gave, then gave some more, each time allowing her to press the attack farther and farther. It didn't take long before he saw an opportunity. Ducking low beneath one of her strikes instead of blocking it, he extended his arms and stabbed his saber at Andromeda's elbow. It was a clumsy stab, exhaustion setting in, causing him to be less precise than he intended. Retracting his stab, he stepped nimbly backward in an attempt to gain some space between them. Reaching up with a free hand, he brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, shoulders heaving with each breath.

"Almost," he gasped, nodding. "You felt... You felt that, didn't you?"

He knew she had felt the surge of raw power her aggression had granted her. Had Andromeda had even just a modicum of the training he'd received, it might well have been his end. He was lucky. Perseus didn't like being lucky; he liked to be sure. There were no more tricks to be played, no more battles of strength or willpower; the time was now.

"I can sense your anger, your fear - you don't need to hide it," he gasped forth. "You're missing something though... Pain."

With an explosion of power, Perseus thrust forward his blade, drawing on everything he could. The anger of his plans being ruined, the frustration of this obstacle that was Andromeda, even further back - the lessons of pain and power that Zevran had taught him time and time again. The power there at his fingertips was nearly unlimited if he could only tap into it. His body shuddered with the strike, another stab, but this time with the length of his blade as the surface, not the point. In truth, he didn't want to kill this Jedi; he could feel his own reluctance. There was something preventing him from breaching that final step. It should have been easy. How many had he killed to get this far? How many bodies had he felled in their push to the hangar alone? Why the hang-up on this one?

Andromeda Demir ​

 

[Andromeda Demir]

The searing pain at the crook of her elbow made her flinch away; she didn't have time to assess it, but she felt like she could still grip her lightsaber. Everything still attached -- for the time being -- but she still recoiled, letting the lightsaber stay in her left hand while she shook out the right experimentally. She circled him warily, until the crumpled bodies of Tiny and Guirale came back into view beyond this monstrous Shadow. Andromeda had hoped against all hope that she would see them sitting up, injured but alive, but even at this distance she could see they were gone.

Hot tears spilled down her face, and she wiped clumsily at her face with her sleeve.

"I'm not hiding anything from you," she told him in response, trying to keep her voice one of cold fury, rather than the cringing, grief-stricken, broken child that she really was. "I want you to know that I will kill you. Today. Tomorrow. I don't care. Whatever you are, wherever you go, I will kill you."

Right hand flexed once more, preparing to join the left, and she mentally prepared to strike again --

A burst of power, drawn on the Force, drawn of some internal fuel within the Shadow. She brought up her lightsaber, too slow, misjudged the angle. The blue-white lightsaber blade fizzled out as his crimson cleaved her lightsaber hilt. The pain of his blade skimming across her forearm was worse than anything she had physically experienced, and her hand flopped uselessly in its glove. "Nnnn -- " she began, teeth gritting at the excruciating pain. The smell, the sound of her flesh and muscle and tendons burning was almost worse, somehow. Rooted to the spot, her other thumb jammed the power button on her lightsaber in disbelief. " -- nnnnaaaaaaaagh!"

Her anguished cry echoed from the circular walls of the spaceport, seemed to startle her into action. Clutching the broken halves of her lightsaber hilt to her chest, Andromeda turned, half-stumbling. She didn't see who or how at first, but a hail of blasterfire rained toward them, but they went wide. She stumbled to the left, dropping to a knee, but the blasterfire continued -- where she had once been. Andromeda looked up to see Captain Baig there, his mustached face a mask of fury as he unloaded at the Shadow.

"Run to me, lass!" he cried.

Andromeda pushed herself up with her good hand, sparing a glance over her shoulder at the Shadow. The last thing she wanted to do, but she had to see, had to know. The last impression he would see of her was a cowardly little girl, sobbing and running for her life. Pathetic, she told herself, a pang of furious grief tearing through her. But she ran, Baig falling in beside her after she passed him, and she didn't stop until she skidded to a halt on the deckplates. Baig raced past her, slamming the button to close the ramp with a fist before heading for the cockpit.

"Hold on," he called, and moments later the ship lurched as the thrusters loosed the bonds of gravity and they rocketed into space.

Thus was Andromeda's triumphant return to Irvulix V concluded, after only fifteen minutes with her feet on the ground of her homeworld. An utter, utter failure.

I will kill him, she promised herself as she curled up against the low curve of the bulkhead wall, hugging her knees to her chest with her good arm. Andromeda dared not to look at her wound; she had gone numb, but for a vague throbbing sting on her arm and elbow, but she chose to view that as a positive sign. Much deeper were the psychological wounds as she remembered Tiny's broken body. My fault, she confessed, and buried her face in her knees, wailing her misery into the fabric of her trousers.

 

[Antares Demir]

Two soldiers had helped Antares into the terminal. By the time he slumped into a plastic chair, he was barely clinging to consciousness. His cut had re-opened and was weeping blood. It made him woozy, lightheaded, and that was before whatever sedative he had unwittingly consumed did its work on him. His head lolled back, and he could almost ignore the sound of clashing lightsaber blades until he drifted out of consciousness.

He dreamed of Andromeda.

She was somewhere out of reach, somewhere dark. Surrounded by water, so deep and black as to be completely insurmountable. He stood on a distant shore, watching her struggle in the water. He wanted to go to her, to pull her out, but he couldn't swim. And yet, the water level rose, lapping at his boots, then climbing up his ankles. It was cold, deathly cold.

The water smelled of regret, of guilt and shame. It smelled of fear and loathing.

"Be at peace, Andromeda," he pleaded with her as the water found his knees. So cold. "I want so much for you to be at peace. It's -- it's so hard to let go."

Ares! Her voice echoed off unseen cavernous walls and ceiling. Don't let go, Ares. I'm here. I'm really here!

He couldn't make heads or tales of the statement. "Does it hurt?" he ventured, immediately hating the little boy's question in a grown man's voice. "Does it hurt to die?"

I'm not -- Ares -- stay away from him! He hurt me, and Tiny, and he'll hurt you too if he can.

"Who?"

The Shadow! The water lapped at his navel, inexorably climbing. Andromeda was getting further away, further and further, and the water climbed. It soaked his shirt, crawled up his neck, over his mouth. He took one last, panicked breath through his nose before the frigid water covered that, too. In the distance, Andromeda disappeared -- sinking below the waves, maybe -- and Ares jolted awake, his pulse hammering. "Whashappad?" he stumbled over his question.

"That woman," one of the troops said from by the window. "Killed Tiny and Guirale. Perseus tried to stop her from escaping, but she's somehow managed to get away." He shook his head, turning his gaze back to his leader. "Looks like he's coming this way. D'you think that really was her?" Antares considered this, resting his chin on his palm, and once more dropped off into unconsciousness. This time, thankfully, it was dreamless.

Perseus Kotar​

 

[Perseus Kotar]

It happened so fast that even Perseus, who'd been the one on the attack barely had time to realize what had happened. He'd heard the buzz of the blade as it seared flesh and cut into the metal of Andromeda's hilt but it was her anguished exclamation that told him he'd succeeded in his attack. Perseus set his gaze on the woman, her near useless hand, the broken saber clutched to her chest. Andromeda had turned to flee, tripping over herself as she made the attempt. No. Let her go, a silent voice in the back of his mind whispered. Perseus didn't have time to argue, the crimson blade flashing as blaster bolts shot towards him. He barely caught the first one, deflecting it into the dirt but the second and third found their way scorching through the air back towards where they'd come from. The rest, Perseus was lucky to keep up and so they deflected every which way.

Perseus stopped pursuing as the two reached the ship, lowering his blade as he committed every detail of the vessel to memory. With a crackle and a hum, the lightsaber extinguished itself, heavy breaths escaping the man's lips. Perseus reattached the hilt to his belt as he watched the vessel depart, the whoosh of it's engines roaring sending up dirt and debris once again. There were no tracking beacons he could throw, no way to find out where she'd come from or where she'd gone - except... They had one thing in common. The Force...

Andromeda. A name to remember.

- - -
​

Perhaps, they had two things in common now. Ares.

Perseus had learned much in the last day/night cycle let alone the last two weeks but one of the more interesting bits was that the woman who had flown in and this man he'd spent the last weeks fighting with were of blood. It had become obvious that Ares thought her dead, and that she desired to find him, an effort rebuffed by Perseus himself - for now. But why? There were missing pieces to the story, missing pieces to the puzzle, but none of the information nor shuffling of pieces got him closer to his goal. At least, not directly. He needed to do some damage control, undoubtedly Ares would know by now that Perseus hadn't been exactly true to him but perhaps his engagement with Andromeda would earn him a modicum of good will. Where Perseus would end up now was uncertain but he wasn't going to get anywhere unless he started somewhere.

Several hours had passed since the departure of Andromeda and Baig's ship, a welcome respite for the Dark Side aspirant. He'd scrounged up some food, even managed a quiet moment of meditation to bolster his energy, but now was time for action. Perseus strode through the new makeshift camp erected at the hangar, heading towards the triage area, a loose section of tenting raised on the edge of the inner ring. To one end, a row of hastily constructed coffins. One in particular stood out, a name scrawled across it: Tiny. Ahead Perseus could see the place where they'd brought Ares, a small cot off to the side of where several medics worked on a man with burns. Perseus approached and called out.

"Ares," he said. "Ares, wake up."