Not About Angels

[Tydeus of Tion]

A grunt, then he drew himself up the last rung and into the cockpit. Ryan steadied himself, leaning against the headrest of the co-pilot's chair. A steady gaze swept the surroundings, noted the destination. He frowned. Maridun? A high plains planet, full of large expanses of grass. Korr had never been to the planet, but it was said that the wind on the plains made the grass ripple like waves on a great green ocean. Oddly, he found a small measure of excitement at venturing to a new planet. A product of his recent experiences, like as not. Too many city planets, hostile jungle worlds, and volcanic globes.

Her comments demanded his attention. Ryan's jaw worked for a brief moment, clenching and unclenching. He settled into the co-pilot's seat, leaned into the leather.

"Both," he replied simply. The Jedi turned his head, stared at her. "It's not a mask. It's duty. Responsibility."

Although, he scarcely expected her to understand the meaning of those words. If she'd ever had a duty, it seemed she'd long ago fled from it.

For the first time since his negligent outburst, he drew upon the Force, letting the light flow through him again. It shored up his weakness, stymied the darkness with a sense of serenity. Brought some measure of peace to a man at war.

The Vahla almost closed his eyes and rested then, so very tired, but he needed answers if he was to understand this woman. Especially since he did not know who among the Rekalis she might be bringing him to. Families within that clan might be just as divided as the various Mandalorian tribes.

"Did that answer matter to you, or were you seeking a way to avoid my question.... again."

Ryan wondered when he would see Coruscant once more, if ever.

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

"It is a mask."

Her curt voice would cut the din. Her profile to him, she busied herself with the Navcomputer in front of her. Less than two hours before they reached their destination, then she could hand the Grand Master off and be done with it.

It would be easier to simply divert again. To avoid the additional probing. A corner glance would catch him in the midst of regaining a measure of tranquility. Ambient light from the viewscreen and the overhead controls cast a pale blue glow over his granite features, barely illuminating the thick fringe of lashes over half hooded eyes. Eyes that held a slow, brewing storm a shade too familiar for the Hunter's liking.

Turning back to the console, she curled her twitching fingers into a fist. Her systematic plan had gone to shit. Patches would be bent over laughing by now at her displeasure at having things tumble out of a sensible means of control.

"If you are going to attempt to pick through mine Korr, at least admit yours for what it is." her husky voice would show no clemency. "Duty? Responsibility? Everyone has those to a measure. The burlap brigade just happens to wear it in spades as an excuse to not let oneself get attached." or to warrant the deeds done. Where the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Her jaw drew tight, flexing under pensive memories of such an Order.

An Order she had once lived in.

"After all, there is no emotion, there is peace, no?"

[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Korr's eyelids shuttered. He drew in a breath, met the anger inside of him, recognized the emotions for what they were, but could not entirely dispose of them. They made up part of him. Getting rid of them would be like chopping off an arm. If he had the tools, he would, but all he could do was clench a fist and struggle to keep that arm motionless. To keep the rage suppressed.

He hated the thought that this might all be due to Vahla genetics, that he might be destined to fall, but even in the hate he failed. For at the heart of that incensed fury was fear. Fear of what he might do if he fell. Fear of who he would become. And it was not something he could come to grips with yet.

Another intake of breath. Another exhalation. Ryan spoke, eyes still closed, not trusting himself to open them yet.

"Duty and responsibility are not a mask, though you might think so. If I had not duty, perhaps I would be like you, blown about by the solar winds. But I have a commitment to the Jedi. I don't expect you to understand and I apologize, my behavior earlier was... unseemly."

Korr pursed his lips and opened his eyes, once more sure of his footing, calm where he stood, even if he could not claim the high ground. She stared defiance at him, with a spiteful gaze from that silver splinter. As if by glaring at him for long enough she might dig that shard through robe, skin and flesh to prick his heart. To make him bleed. Korr touched his neck reflexively. Hadn't she done that already?

He sighed through the nose and shook his head.

"Do I have to ask again?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

He had to touch his neck.

There was a distinct thinning of her lips, and she would swivel her head away. His apology made her jaw twitch, and that subtle tremble of her fingers evoked a need to rub them together just to keep them from becoming too visible. She would stare at her hand for a period of time, as if searching for something there. Finally, nod would relay the acceptance of the apology. He had admitted that much, to ignore it would only make her appear the fool.

The Hunter did not enjoy having to answer questions. Questions meant probing into her past. Into her sins. Into things she rather not have to turn a leaf to peer at the crumbling ruin that was left. Fire and Ash.

Both were two forces of nature that would not appear to give. It was a weathering of the storm. Skye could avoid and redirect his questions indefinitely, but it would get them no where. He had his prejudices. I have mine.

But I also have experience.

"I don't say it is a mask based on assumptions, Korr." she told him, keeping her attention straight at the viewport. "I understand it well." The mottled streak of hyper space danced within that hardening slate of her eye. One could even wonder if that cybernetic ocular shone a brighter crimson hue.

"I was part of it."

Well, that was an answer. Likely not the one he would expect.

[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

"What."

His brows slashed down, eyes sharp and alert. "Part of the Jedi?"

The shoto in her armory, covered in a thin film of dust. He'd thought it just a trophy, but a weapon, her weapon? How could that be?

Red had not exhibited the slightest sign of being Force sensitive. Quite the opposite. Not just the fact that she wore some sort of amulet that made her aura slippery to sense, but that she hadn't used any powers at all. Korr pursed his lips in thought. He considered himself to be a peer of any for force sight and truth sense, yet one told him she was speaking truth while the other said she lied.

"You do not appear to be sensitive to the Force, unless..." a pause, Ryan began connecting the dots. He would never have made a good investigator, sharp, but too slow on the uptake. His eyes narrowed, remembering when she'd hit him with that dart full of- "Ixetal Cilona?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

It was more information than the Hunter cared to admit. The grimace would cut through her slender jaw, muscles tensing at that. She could practically feel the searching probe of that steely gaze rake through her, searching, confirming. The narrowing of his eyes as he came to a conclusion towards why he couldn't sense her through the Force.

This was a bad idea.

An arch of a brow, but she did not turn to face the Grand Master. Instead, her fingers continued their steady slow circular rub of thumb and forefinger.

"One does not need the Force to be part of the Order." she said plainly. It was as vague of an answer as any. She did neither confirm herself a former Jedi nor deny it. There was truth to her statement. The Jedi Order was more than the typical Jedi. There were the Agri-Corps and the Antarian Rangers. Of those, there were also aides and academics that would come to assist and work along side the Jedi. Where she took part in that was her choice to elaborate upon.

Granted, she wouldn't be able to hide the fact that she did use the Force once the pills ran their course.. and the withdrawal symptoms kicked in. The Taozin amulet would only be able to do so much, and she was never the sort to excel in hiding her presence. Mindtricks were always the hardest for her to master.

A second later she'd add, "However, " there came a slight cant of her head to the right, the strands of inky black waves brushing the bandage over her shoulder and collar bone. "it did dawn on me when you Force shoved me against the bulkhead of my own ship, that ramming you against the one at your back would have been a joy to reciprocate the favor then."

For once, the sarcasm had no venom, instead wryness. Miracles would never cease.

[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

"Hmm."

Korr started to cross his arms, but winced as the pain flared in his chest. Lips compressed and jaw muscles clenched. Arms came down slowly onto the co-pilot's armrests. Fingers curled around the supple leather, squeezing once.

Technically, she was correct. One could be a part of the Order and not use the Force. However, that did not explain the shoto in her armory, nor the slippery sensation that surrounded her aura. There were too many mysteries at work here. Too many threads to unravel. Pulling secrets from this woman was like extracting venom from a Jakku pit viper. He'd just as soon rather not, especially not in his current state. Best to just get this whole ordeal over with and get back to the Order.

There were people out there who might actually want his help.

"Fair enough."

Sullen silence grew between them, as deep as any Chandrilan chasm and wider than the Corellian rift. Korr might have been perceptive enough to ferret out lies, but no one would ever deign to call him a socialite, much less label him as a man who enjoyed small-talk. The weary Jedi master would be quite content to remain silent for the entirety of the time remaining until they reached their destination.

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

He left it at that.

Small blessings, but Skye wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. However, there were a few questions she had of her own. If the Grand Master only answered what she required it was good enough for her. They still had about an hour until they reached Maridun. Neris would meet her there. It had been a while since she’d met with the grizzled Mandalorian, one of the few she trusted to do her the favor she requested.

“How long have they’ve been tracking you?” Her query would reference the Trandoshans who had attacked him at the Wheel earlier. That bothered her. The Clans had long since done their best to purge whatever Sith they could find. Had they come to the Wheel because of the Grand Master or something else?

Her brows would pinch in and upwards, and there was a faint whirr as the cherry ocular spun left then right. It was a red beacon, a reminder that the woman sitting in the pilot’s seat was an augmented human. Not quite whole.

"The Trandoshans."

[member="Ryan Korr"]

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

He closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, let the exhaustion set in and take root in his bones. Weary beyond care and torn up like a paper doll. And like paper, his muscles felt weak and useless. Spent, just as he was spent with this woman and her stubbornness. Smashing his head against a wall might prove less painful than a simple conversation with her.

Korr gave a long sigh through the nose.

"I have no idea. Didn't even know they were tracking me until I was on the station. I don't know if they started hunting me then, or earlier. I don't know who they are working for, but I suspect the answer is the same as it always is."

Eyes opened and he turned toward her, expression concerned, serious and thoughtful. "Sith."

He gestured at empty air with a hand. Frustrated. Helpless. "I assume I was their target, but I don't know if it was simple assassination or something else."

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

“The title of Grand Master typically provides the perfect target reticle for the Sith.” The Hunter’s voice would drawl out with no particular sarcasm. It was just fact. Skye had seen enough of that throughout her life. It was cyclic in nature. Cut off the head of the snake and the rest would scatter - at least, until another would rise up.

“However, this is the first time I’ve seen Trandoshans join so willingly.” That concerned her, and so publically on the Wheel, none the less. Deep furrows formed in between her brows, her mind racing. The dull ache on her shoulder was waning, but sharp movements would remind her promptly that the wound was still there.

“No knowledge of how long you may have been followed?” Her throaty rasp would inquire, a hint of that accent that was hard to place. One circlet of silver and an orb of crimson shot over to lock upon the Jedi. His weariness came to the fore with his haggard expression. The past two hours rode heavy in her mind. Talk could be left for later, they had less than two hours until their destination.

A small gesture would motion for him to not answer if he opened his eyes. “Rest.” she said, the tip of her boot would swivel her towards the viewport. Faint twitches would run over her fingers.
“We’ll arrive at the checkpoint in two hours time.”

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Statements he already knew to be true tumbled from her lips, along with questions he had asked of himself. Not enough clues. Examine the bodies. Psychometry for their weapons, for their clothes. An investigator from the Order. All this would have been standard procedure, but for the sudden induction of a nerve agent into the bloodstream. The burglar couldn't come in after the murderers and still ask security to search the scene. Contaminated evidence.

They were all contaminated.

Stained souls in an unforgiving universe.

The Jedi half-listened to half-facts. Nodded at her command to sleep, eyes already closing.

* * *

Droplets spattered against him as he knelt in the mud, an acid rain that fell in sheets of hateful vitriol, dripping down his bare face and leaving tracks of hissing, burning red. Soaking him and the thin form he held clutched in his arms. Trembling fingers traced her cold cheek, the warmth long gone, traveling down to touch at the hole in her chest where the heart should be. Testing, hesitant fingers rimming the scorched wound, as if unsure it was real.

Because it couldn't be real. None of this could. Just some hellish nightmare on Ossus. He glared up at the brooding skies in defiance until the rain seared his corneas and turned him blind. Relief, now he wouldn't have to see her face and those dead eyes staring up at him, full of fear. With the blindness came deafness, then smell, then touch. Though the weight of her body in his arms lay like an anvil on his shoulders.

* * *

Korr awoke as he always did, panting, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his forehead, a tortured stare into nothing. Longing for the dream again, to see her face one more time.

Because he knew the reality.

She was dead and the nightmare was real.

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

It was the low moan that caught her attention.

For a long moment, the Hunter had simply sat there observing him, had watched his body flinch as a tremor shot through him. Again, he moaned.

So subtle, so faint were the sensations, Skye had barely noticed them sweeping through her, let alone the fact that they were synchronized with the tremors racking the Grand Master's body.

Nightmares. The Hunter was well used to them. Or more aptly, night terrors. It was in slumber that the demons of guilt and helplessness managed to slither from their shadows. Like snakes, they would come to strike without warning and without mercy, dripping venom from their fangs that would send one into the fires of the Nine Hells.

Another deep groan and the decision had been quick. She had risen from her seat, approaching the Jai, driven to release him from whatever hellish war he was fighting within.

"Korr?" she had called softly, a slight grimace a the dull ache over her collar, "Wake up." she gently touched his shoulder. "You're having a --"

He had shot upward so fast, Jeco like reflexes that were enough to startle the Hunter. The tortured, sweat drenched stretch of skin over his skull pulled tight, pale as the grave and haunted like no other.

There where few moments one did not want to be caught in the throes of. At the very least, Skye could grant him a measure of privacy now that he was awake.

"We're here." she said quietly, turning to pull away. Beyond in the viewport, the world of Maridun bloomed as a pale green and yellow sphere. They were no longer in hyperspace and autopilot would be shut off in lieu of the Hunter taking control

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

Tormented lines smoothed into hard contours. He turned, glanced at her hand on his shoulder, then looked out the viewport. One can know what a carved statue has endured by the scars and gauges weathered into its surface. What one cannot know is what it thinks of those storms, or how it feels, since it is - after all - merely stone.

Korr inhaled through the nose, a long drag of processed air, stale and cold in the vacuum. He nodded, shifting up in his seat, spine straight as his wounds would allow, shoulders back.

"Good."

The nightmares had been getting worse. Most were memories of past trauma. Those Ryan could live with- had lived with, but there were others more unsettling. Visions of things that had not happened. Misting terrors of the mights and could-bes. He tried to remember, but couldn't seem to recall any including hot pincers and angry Rekalis.

I'll take it as a good sign.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, not sure if it was the painkillers talking. Not really caring either way. She'd kidnapped him, ​jus bellum for recalcitrance, so far as he was concerned.

Maridun grew larger in the viewport and the ship rattled as it entered atmosphere. Ryan had never been on the planet before. A first and last visit somehow seemed horribly fitting.

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

Well, to each their own.

That was the singular thought that went racing through the Hunter's mind as the Shadow Phoenix flew over flowing flat plains and rolling hills. The last few minutes were met with silence, each for their own reasons and perhaps, for their own sanity. For the Hunter, it was easier to keep at a distance. Not to mention, having to work through the dull ache in her shoulder and working through the waning effects of the anti-force pills she typically took. It always felt as if she were going through withdrawal, ironically enough, an earlier crude version had done exactly that. Wrecked her system if she didn't kept a steady supply of it, making her feel almost like a spice addict with the way her body felt as if it were shutting down while weaning off of it.

Not the best feeling in the 'verse.

The drop off was to be a small outpost in a nearby valley. This close, she would be able to send a comm to tell them that they were incoming. Startlingly aware of the Grand Master's placement beside her, the Hunter kept her sight focused in front of her, avoiding making eye contact. There had been enough already within those storm flecked orbs that Mertaal did not want to continue fixating on. Maybe it was guilt from earlier still, or perhaps at her own idiocy at letting her temper get the better of her and playing Nuna with the vibroshiv and his word.

Gorram, it.

Her hand would snatch at the tiny black box of the comm transmitter, curling her fingers around it while the fore would reach out to click to a specific frequency. Focus on other things, she told herself. The sooner we get there, the sooner she could very well leave Korr alone.

She brought the speaker to her mouth, her thumb depressing the transmit button.

[ Su cuy'gar, ibic cuyir Prudii Ga'ihlr at Dur Cese, olaror iy rusur catnat. ]

Mando'a. A rather harsh language for anyone who had not grown up with it; although truth be told, Cheunh was far worse on the throat and tongue. Mando'a, at least, coated the throat as if one aught to be drunk to truly make sense of it. To be frank, most wondered if the language was honestly just a series of alcoholic drinks and the Mandalorians failed attempted at Basic. Don't ever tell that straight to their face, though. That generally dials up their orneriness in spades.

Typically, by now, there is a response. However, considering the events of things, Mertaal didn't think too much of it.

[ Nerys, gar ogir? ]

A frown drew upon the dark slash of her brows. Staring off through the viewport, the Hunter had no sense of forewarning for what came next. The firespray crossed over the last hill, swooping low into the valley. It was the dark plumes of smoke in the distance that sent the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck on end.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

The Coruscanti Jedi fractionally raised a single eyebrow. The Mando'a language was not part of his repertoire. Nal Huttese, certainly, but Mandalorians all knew basic and he seldom had cause to communicate with the clans - until now. The same could not be said for drug lords and other denizens of the Underworld.

Still, he'd enough experience to know that ground control was generally supposed to answer flight queries. If that weren't enough to clue him in to a sense of foreboding, the billowing pillars of smoke in the valley did the rest.

Ryan leaned forward on the edge of his seat, as if to get a better view. One hand reached out and grasped the edge of the dashboard. The Force ran awash with the pain of recent deaths and some deeper darkness he could not yet see.

Sithspit. He shot a sidelong glance at Red. Is she- yes.

Those olive features had drawn tight with surprise and anger. Korr's own frowardness vanished in that moment. No time to bemoan his erstwhile captivity when other lives were at risk.

"Red, listen to me. We can't go rushing in, we don't know what's down there. Set us down over there. We need to figure out what we are up against."

He pointed to a patch of grass some distance from the smoke.

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

His words were reasonable. They made sense.

They did not, however, manage to lessen the emotional backlash that went blazing through her. It was hard enough to try and hide the tremble of her fingers before, near impossible now. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, nostrils flaring as she felt the sickening recoil of death. Ever familiar, ever lingering to coat her with its sanguine christening.

There was a desire there, to go in gunsblazing. It was that leftover recklessness she could never quite get away from. It would clash against the stone cold, stoic, prudence of the Hunter. A struggling virtue that Skye had only recently managed to grab a hold of. That cherry glow from her eyepatch seemed to flare, or perhaps it was just the reflection of the piloting instruments in the console in front of her.
The ion engines hummed as the Hunter took the Jai's advice, if only to focus on what would come ahead. Landing struts peeled back and the cockpit of the Firespray reoriented itself as it rotated onto its back. Dust and grass blew back in the wash of engines, but their hum was barely killed before the brunette unbuckled herself and shot to her feet.

Gone was the pain of her collarbone earlier, in its stead, Mertaal was purposefully moving as quickly as she possibly could. She was five steps ahead of Korr, the woman barely grimacing as she went climbing down the hatch. She blew past the small cargo bay, heading straight for the armory. There was no time for her to suit up, she went straight for the Bryer pistols instead.

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

Korr eyed her as she tore off the crash restraints like they were offending hands and took off down the hallway. He rose and followed after, lips pressed into a hard line. Her feet fell with brutal determination on the floor, following a path straight as an arrow to its victim. A thought flitted through his head. How easy to leave her here once she stepped off the craft. Grab the controls and pilot his way to freedom.

But he'd given his word and was loathe to break it. Most else in his life was shattered, but not this. A crumbled statue, defaced by weather, but still with feet firmly planted on the ground. A remnant of honor.

His eyes found the lightwhip as he moved into the armory after her. We're all remnants of something, in the end.

Frowning, Ryan picked up the weapon, weighed it in his palm. She'd gone for the guns, perhaps out of habit. Perhaps a subconscious urge to let the past lay buried.

Guns were good, but lightwhips were better. He extended the hilt to her, a question in his eyes.

"You'll need it," he insisted, voice firm.

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

The moment was poignant. Heavy. A stormy eye bore into stoic slate. It was all but a few seconds, the Hunter staring silently into the Grand Master’s eyes, a nerve at her jaw twitching in the growing tempest within. Lids fell to the gunmetal grey hilt, sweeping across the basic design, the worn scuffs and the small activation switch that lay embedded there.

Perhaps Korr saw something there. A remnant at what lay buried in the past. Mertaal on the other hand, saw failure instead.

A loud click and check of a powerpack broke the silence, and she would flick one pewter and cherry red ocular orb back at the Jedi.

“No,” her hand shot out instead for the Bodo Bass gun belt, tying it in place. “Not for years.”

She jerked that olive profile away, the wild, thick mass of black waves veiling her from sight. Jerky, purposeful movements secured the powerpack, then she holstered it with a bit more strength than she intended. Pain shot through her collarbone, but it barely made a grimace, her lip tightening into a thin line. She could feel it, pinpricks of awareness riding the edge of withdrawal. The Force.

“I’ll head north then west… you can move south and east.” came her curt instruction. “We’ll meet up at the center.”

He could very well take advantage of the situation. Skye knew that. She was also well aware of the security measures the Phoenix had to prevent one from simply flying away with it.

One armory door went slamming shut. The other still open for Korr to set back the hilt. The Hunter gave the Jedi a pointed look.

“You coming Korr or not?”

 

[Tydeus of Tion]

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then drew in an exasperated breath and set the whip down on the shelf. Back home, so many years ago now, he'd dealt with tree roots less stubborn than this woman. But he'd already forced the issue when he'd let her walk onto the knife. That and the... well it didn't bother thinking on it now. What happened happened.

Perhaps somewhere in those pillars of smoke he might find some redemption in her eyes, but he doubted it. Redemption was in high demand and even shorter supply.

"Yes," he said stiffly, then followed her out.

Outside, the air smelled of char and the smoke was overpowering. Korr squinted. Whatever the source was lay just behind a grassy berm. Some sort of Mandalorian complex, Ryan guessed. An accident? No, Ryan didn't believe in coincidences of this sort. They'd known, somehow.

He thought to the chip he carried concealed in a secret pocket inside his utility belt. Seemingly innocuous, but it carried an invaluable set of plans. Mentioning its presence to a woman who survived by turning in people for money seemed like a pretty terrible idea. If he were to guess, that's what they were after. Well, that and him. A grandmaster held hostage made for a good bargaining chip, and a dead one for a demoralizing blow.

Korr stalked forward through the grass, unclipping his lightsaber as he went and stretching out in the Force, searching for presences.

"What is burning?"

[member="Skye Mertaal"]

 

[Skye Mertaal]

[member="Ryan Korr"]

For a moment, the Hunter stood still. There was an echo of the past. A pulse in the heartbeat of another place, another time, bringing with it the familiar stench of charred flesh and sanguine pools of death. The winds of time carried with memory the wailing cries of women as an entire village burned... Much like sulfer, one could never forget the acrid scent of bodies burning in the air. Of gristled fat snapping and popping within the confines of metal and leather.

Smoke would hide the bodies, but not for long. Time would seem to stand still, and in her place was a younger version of the woman who stood there. Down the valley, along the long verdant grass lay the charred remains of the small Mandalorian outpost. Bodies littered the ground, flames licking at the pourstone buildings and dark plumes of smoke rising from the burned remains. A single ship lay in a half mangled mess, the nose drooping forward into the ground, while the larger bodies of dead Trandoshans lay beside it. Their black, beady eyes staring with a glassy expression to the heavens, where they would find no mercy nor redemption.

A muscle would twitch along Mertaal’s jaw. If she could blanch another shade lighter she did then, a gust of wind sending the dark locks of her hair over her face like a mourning veil.

“They are.” her voice was low. Gruff. Barely restrained amidst the white knuckle grip she held that Bryer pistol with. Clammy of skin, with beads of sweat now rising over her brow, Skye went darting forward. A bit risky, but at the very least she knew better than to do so standing. A low crouch and pistol extended, she moved like a Bha’lair, senses blazing in the growing reconnection to the Force.

Where was Nerys? In her mind, she pictured the steely green eyes, rugged leather face, and heard his rather crude voice. It was superimposed now by blood, fire, and glassy eyes. Stop it! She told herself, swallowing back the demons of her mind.

Down she went, legs brushing across calf high grass as she cut across the field. The crackle of fire and burnt electronics surrounded the woman, that cherry red ocular patch zooming and whirling as it would scan for any life signs. The life detector within processed the information, jumping from one face to the other. Some were still in their full Beskgar’am, others without their helm. Skye would search for that tell tale make of Nerys own, eyes blinking back the sting of smoke.