We Will Start An Inferno

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

Surah stood on the precipices of a change.

She could feel it.

She could feel the potential of change, she could feel the altering, she could feel the bite of the force edging at her heels. Thats what she had learned to call it now, thats what she had learned it was, the force. Teeth sunk into her lower lips.

Was this what she was destined to? Worry? Angst? Fear? Panic?

Thats what it felt like her world was now. Nothing but wrought emotions of terror. Surah stretched slightly, waiting for her companion, though it was perhaps wrong to call her that. Jenna Rayley by all accounts was dangerous. Surah didn't know how, she didn't know why, but the woman had chosen to take her with her, had chosen to bring Surah alongside with her on this little trip.

She didn't understand why, but as she stood on the hangar bay platform Surah began to wonder about the motives the woman had.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The plan had been mulled over, albeit very briefly.

They were getting off this dump of a forest and they were doing it now. Like, as in right the frack now. Jenna had considered hiding out until things blew over, but patience wasn't exactly her strong point, nor was thinking things through.

Shuttle with the ramp down, whose side it belonged to? She didn't care. Deep down her affiliation was to herself but wasn't the same for three quarters of the Sith in the Galaxy, with a Master but secretly self-serving? How many in the end get to really serve themselves.

Confident she strode up behind her new charge, pushing the woman's back as to indicate that they were now officially on the go. “Move it, we're going,” she said abruptly, marching across to a small shuttle she had spotted with the ramp down. That'll do.

With the knife in her hand, Jenna had ultimately decided that it was a great day to hijack a ship.

[member="Surah"]

 

[Aela Talith]

Surah struggled to her feet.

It wasn't physical exertion that made her struggle, her legs, spine, and whatever else were perfectly okay. It was the mental that she struggled with, her thoughts, her mind that kept her from really wanting to go anywhere. Yet when Jenna pushed her, moved her forward, she knew that there really wasn't much choice in the matter.

Her heart beat fast, very fast. Nerves rushing through her as she saw the blade in Jennas hands. What was the woman going to do now? Kill her? Assault someone else? Her nerves began to shake, but Surah didn't stop.

She kept walking towards a ship.

There was a single man guarding it. He wore expensive looking armor and carried a heavy Blaster Rifle of some sort. As Surah and Jenna approached, he stiffened slightly, his back going straighter and his eyes searching the two of them.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

They were hardly inconspicious. Girl in an orange blood-spattered jumpsuit and a slave more scarred than the gruffest wookiee around.

Good thing that Jenna Rayley had exceedingly sharp moments.

As soon as suspicious eyes were cast upon the pair she moved, a single dash forward, grip shifting on the hilt of the blade. The guard's blaster rifle began to rise as she did this but it wasn't soon enough. In that moment Jenna existed upon a different level, the world around her slowing in motion giving her a clarity of eye and hand. That was the Force at play.

The hunting knife was thrown, making two rotations before embedding itself into the guard's throat, just as he managed to put his finger onto the trigger.

“Gnnnnnnkk,” came the death rattle as the man fell backwards onto the very ramp that he was supposed to guard.

Skipping over to the man, Jenna immediately began to try and drag the man from under the shoulders. Of course, it was here that she shot a look of daggers up to the useless half of the Sith Master, eyes showing a growing frustration with the timid creature.

“Don't just stand there!” she hissed, “Help me get him on board.”

[member="Surah"]

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

Shocked out of her near catatonic state by Jennas yelling Surah rushed over to the other woman with a quick beat of her step.

She moved like a cat that had been poked in the rear with an electric wire, her back stiff and her skin crawling, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape in horror. The mans death had been so quick, so fast, so meaningless. It caused an excitement within her that she did not understand, the confusing emotion pulling through her and pressing at her, causing the something that stirred within her to demand to come out.

Surah suppressed it, pushed it down.

She did not want it there, she did not want it at all.

“O-o-okay.” She said grabbing the man and aiding Jenna. The two women managed to pull the heavily armored guard onto the ship, blood falling slowly from the wound.

Surah licked her lips.

Jenna practically threw the corpse to the ground once they were inside the ship, the woman not caring once they were out of view. Of course Surah lingered, watching as the blood pooled beneath them, watching as the deadman seemed to struggle with finding life. She found her heart fluttering.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Once on board Jenna wasted no time, leaving Surah to contemplate the barely living man with the blade in his leg.

Getting inside the shuttle was the hard part, the next part was easy. Well, easy depending upon the ship. Some vessels had safe guards against this kind of grand theft auto but most did. You see, the benefits of being in prison is that you learn some real life skills while in there. Credit laundering, slicing bank terminals, stealing speeders and ships, the most effective place to stab a man and watch him die slowly.

Prison is a good idea only in the way that it kept the undesirables off the streets. Cooping them all up together where they could converse knowing that one day half of them will be back out amongst the public, is not.

Auto-pilot is a peach, wise words from the mouth of Butch Better, cell mate and vessel thief extraordinaire. Said she once tried out for the Coruscant Comets but had second thoughts when the goalkeeper broke her jaw in five places with a well-placed defensive elbow.

Truth? Who knows. Entertaining? Sure.

The co-ordinates that the buried Sith Master had given her were punched in and lickity split the rumble of engines beneath their feet began. Jenna didn't bother getting [member="Surah"], choosing to strap herself into the pilot's seat and kick back with her feet upon the console.

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

The jetting rocketry of the ship taking off nearly threw Surah off her feet. She struggled to stay standing and gripped onto a nearby wall in order to steady herself as the shuttle exited the atmosphere of Kashyyyl, leaving behind the only home that Surah had known not to be cruel to her.

Yet she did not even think of that.

What she thought of was the dying man.

What she thought of was his life blood leaving him. What she thought of was ending him, of killing him and watching what was left fade out of him. It excited her like nothing else, thrilled her to her deepest core, and yet, it disgusted her.

As she squatted down besides the ban, taking up position with one hand on the back of his head and the other on his chin, Surah began to cry. Tears flowed down her face, thick and heavy. She cried, touching the man, and then suddenly wrenching his neck in a powerful tear. In an instant the man was killed, and the ship shook as though his death had ushered them into hyperspace.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Jenna wasn't really occupied with the thoughts of life and death and having the conflicted feelings that usually came with a Sith Lord occupying your mind.

No, the fatigue was catching up with her.

Felt like she'd been awake since they dragged her outta prison. They were all so excited, ready to be let loose upon the Kashyyyk for another taste of freedom. Then excitement turned to adrenaline, let loose amongst the trees to take out all their resentment for the Republic in one manic swoop.

A pilot's chair wasn't much compensation for a bed, but it was probably equally as comfortable as her old bunk.

The young woman folded her arms across her chest, feet still propped up and leaned back, the pilot's chair giving a soft squeak as it tilted. Just a quick nap would do. She didn't really have much concerns regarding her other passenger. She could doss around in the back, have a wander, play with the body, whatever. She didn't care.

Jenna's gave a long yawn, eyelids slowly slipping closed.

[member="Surah"]

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

Time passed.

For Surah it was achingly slow.

It always was.

She had to spend every waking minute fighting with whatever was inside her, she had to spend hour after hour pushing back against whatever was trying to get out. Sleep never came to her, the force sustained her in subtle nuances, allowing her to keep going without much needed rest. It was a necessity, a need that she felt, but one that she did not even notice.

She was far too enthralled in her battle.

So it was after hours, perhaps even days that Surah found herself crouching in the fetal position on one of the acceleration couches within the ship, staring out into hyperspace when suddenly a quick single alerted beeped through the ship, and then second later the vessel came tumbling out of hyperspace above a dead world.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Jenna awoke to what was seemingly the sounds of alarm klaxons, startling her out of her slumber and almost out of the chair (had she not been strapped in).

Had they been chased? Caught out for stealing an important vessel? Was it important? Didn't seem that way from the lone guard that had been standing out for it. Still groggy from her nap, the woman unbuckled herself, a small layout of the ship flashing upon the console, indicating that whatever was wrong, was wrong in the observation hall.

Could they have been boarded? Did that stupid cow let raiders on? There was a large number of possibilities all running through her head at once and as she unstrapped herself from the pilot's chair.

She bolted down the corridor, trying to imagine what calamity had befallen the pair of them.

That was until she came to the observation hall.

Jenna froze.

Fire.

“N-n-...”

The acceleration couch was ablaze, flames rising up to tickle the ceiling of the vessel. Where were the ship's fire suppressors? How could she not smell the smoke before? Where was [member="Surah"]?! Jenna found herself unable to move as the sight of her one true fear sapped any strength and will from her being. Legs wobbled and she collapsed to her knees.

“I...du-d-didn't….”

The fire, sensing this weakness began to spread, catching across the floor in a way that defied logic and physics itself and surging towards her. Hot. Legs itching. Palms sweating. It hurts.

“...I-I-I-I….suh-sor...sor...”

Oh Force, it hurts.

A small beep brought her out of her nightmare like a cold hand dragging her from the very depths of Chaos. Jenna returned to reality with a great shuddering gasp, forehead caked in sweat, heart-rate up into hyperspeed. There was an ache in her legs, worse than it had ever been.

She had had nightmares before, but none like that, none so vivid.

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

Surah watched as the ship neared the dead planet, it sailed passed it for only a moment, circling the world in order to bring it to where the computer knew the long broken fleet to be. Surah didn't know that of course, in fact she didn't even know why it was that she was here, why Jenna had taken her along on this trip, but she was here.

There was no arguing against it now.

No fighting.

Surah simply had to play along, and as the planet began to grow larger and larger within the viewport she bit her lip. There was something familiar on the world below, something that called out to her, sang to her. She could hear it, like a tune from a violin.

It calmed the something within her, ceased its aggravation and fighting.

She breathed a sight of relief, that familiar feeling getting more and more powerful as the ship lowered itself to the planets ground, several miles away from where the two women would find a broken fleet.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

She took a few moments to settle herself, letting the pain in her legs die down to a soft throb, then a hot itching sensation that Jenna knew would probably linger for a small while yet. They called it phantom pain, the young woman didn't understand the phantom part, given that it felt so very real.

Finally as the descent planetside was almost complete Jenna unbuckled herself and made it back through the ship to [member="Surah"], who thankfully was still here.

Also no flaming couches. That's a great sign.

“Good, you're not dead,” she said to the woman flatly, sparing a quick glance at the acceleration couch and then back at the mildly useless slave woman (soon-to-hopefully-be very useful). With that she walked off, waiting for the ship to have fully landed before they could disembark.

Jenna noted the body of the man that still remained, she had considered taking his armour but then thought twice, it would likely be too big for her. No, what she had noted was that her knife was gone. No dice.

“Where's the knife, Surah?” she said quietly, accusingly with her back to the woman.

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

Panic set in.

Where was the knife? Had she taken it? She didn't remember taking it. She didn't remember having it. Surah began to pat herself down, standing, scrambling, searching. She didn't know what happened to the blade, she didn't know what had been done with it.

She looked around madly, her eyes searching, scanning, her hands began to twitch and shake at her sides, her palms sweating.

“I...i...i...” She trailed off, stuttering and mumbling to herself. “I don't know.”

She said louder, but it with such panic and hurry that it may as well have been unintelligible. Almost pleadingly she gazed at Jennas back, not knowing what to do, not knowing what to expect.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Not good enough.

They were the only two people aboard, and the dead guard at their feet certainly didn't take it out all by himself. This, this didn't fly with Jenna and a scowl crossed her feline features. She didn't like being lied to, she thought it as completely audacious.

[member="Surah"] would have to learn.

A turn on her heel brought Jenna's eyes to meet the eyes of the stammering slave. It was very evident that she wasn't happy with that answer.

“You….you….you….you...don't know?” she returned, words vicious and mocking the slave's evident fear and panic. Rayley began to take steps towards her, the first two slow and ominous and then bursting into a dash.

She tried to grab Surah's lapels, and if she managed to do so planned on slamming her back against the bulkhead. Like the nice, rational lady that she was.

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

She did manage to grab Surah, mostly because of that something that was within her seemed to be completely and utterly still.

Though it was still there, still sitting down within her somewhere, Surah currently couldn't feel it. There was no rage, no anger, no touch of the force flowing through her brought on by that something. Right now it was simply Surah standing there, the salve girl that had been so badly broken, beaten, and mutilated by Nemene.

“I Don't!” There was no stuttering this time.

She needed to protest, she needed to avoid being punished, she could not handle more punishment.

Not in this lifetime.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

Jenna didn't believe this tale.

Where else could the knife have went? There was nowhere else, nobody else lest they had a hidden stowaway on the ship with a penchant for sharp and shiny objects. Doubtful.

The young woman quirked an eyebrow at [member="Surah"], a small tsking emerging from beneath her breath. She knew that as long as the slave had control that she could do what she wanted? If she harmed her would she harm the Sith Lord beneath? Perhaps, but she could always feign innocence to that circumstance.

Her right arm crept backwards, hand balling itself into a fist.

“Oh, but I think you do,” Jenna said darkly, before she rocketed her fist forward, aiming to punch the woman right in the gut. She was scowling at the slave, but inwardly she was smirking. She liked this.

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

The punch struck her with a great amount of protest.

“NO!” She yelled as Jenna drew back her first. “NO NO NO NO NO NO!”

Surah sounded like a petulant child, like a little girl who was not getting her away with something. There was of course real panic in her voice, real fear and even hatred. She did not want to get beaten, she did not want to get hit. She didn't remember taking the knife, she didn't remember hiding It or doing anything else with it.

Yet Jenna thought she had it.

When the blow struck her, Surah immediately began to cough. The wind was thrown out of her, the air seemed to leave her and she nearly toppled over. She would have if it hadn't been for Jennas grip still holding her in place. She coughed, struggling. “P-please.”

She didn't know.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

The protesting was starting to wear thin, or rather not the protesting but the lying.

Jenna couldn't afford for this woman to be holding a weapon like that, not for fear of being betrayed by her other half, no that side of her could kill Rayley with her bare hands, she had made that evident enough. No, Jenna was concerned that in the heat of the moment the slave might have been opportunistic.

Might have gone for the stab and run when her back was turned. After all, why is this slave without her master? She had to escape somehow.

“You're only doing this to yourself,” Jenna sing-songed much like a school bully taunting her victim.

While Surah coughed and hacked away, the former prisoner came up with her forearm, bringing it up to the woman's throat and pushing her head back into the bulkhead. From there she applied as much force as possible, that protruding wrist bone into the slave's throat, effectively choking her.

 

[Aela Talith]

[member="Jenna Rayley"]

She gasped and struggled for air.

Breathing was difficult at this point, and her vision started to blur and go black. She could see fading lines drive through her sight, and panic once again set in above all else. She tried to push Jenna away, she tried to claw at her, make her stop, but it was no use. The other woman was simply stronger than her, more determined, and probably better trained.

Surah pushed and prodded, she flailed, she panicked.

The force surged through her.

It came as a natural instinct. Tapping into the power of the other, tapping into the strength and control that a lowly slave girl usually did not have. She threw out her arm, and a massive wave of the force sprung forth from it, hurtling forward.

 

[Beatrice Govan]

By this point it wasn't really helping her get this knife, she thought the lying creature might have given it up by this point, but no dice.

Then came out the Force, which handily sent Jenna flying backwards and into the opposite bulkhead with a very loud, woman-shaped clang. Of course in this process she bashed the back of her head against the unforgiving metal with a loud clang, effectively re-opening the wound that had been caused by a bare-footed Sith kick

Had the [member="Surah"] done that? Or the Sith?

Jenna grimaced, touching the already tender spot upon the back of her head with a slight wince and feeling that familiar trickle of blood start to flow. Slowly she returned to her feet, and instead of continuing this altercation she slammed her fist onto switch to disengage the ramp.

“I can't help you if you stab me,” she said in a huff.