Where The Streets Have No Name

[Micah tol Powl]

P • R • O • L • O • G • U • E​

♫​

"And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming..."​

- E. A. Poe​

THE PLANET
L O R R D
FORMER PRIMEVAL TERRITORIES (NEUTRAL SPACE)

One of the more interesting aspects of Lorrdian culture was the appropriation of the Argazdan religion. Once the dominant form of belief in the sector, the gradual decline of power of their interstellar dominion caused the Vianist faith to die out in all other parts of the galaxy. Yet, on Lorrd, it had been assimilated into their cultural identity and even contributed to the development of their kinetic communication.

Vianism was not a belief in a single deity, but rather a pantheon of polytheist belief and lore that had evolved and developed gradually as stories were told and passed down through the generations. When the Primeval had come to Lorrd, their belief in the three creations of Sargon hadn't done anything to change the Vianist beliefs. Rather, they'd come to accept the Primeval deities as simply what had been acknowledged as unknown gods before. For the hardcore Vianist, and the Primeval zealot, it was likely a rather frustrating situation just how easily the two desperate religions married together so seamlessly.

Via or Halrormalenth?

The Beautific Countenance or Balagoth?

The Glorious Radiance or Nogras?

But while the so-called purists on either side of the religious debate might argue, the vast majority had simply continued going about their business. And, for his part, Boo rather enjoyed listening about their stories. Fables. Parables that were as old as time, and yet new to his ears. The same lessons, told though the lens of a different perspective. It resonated with the Riftsinger, the idea that they were more alike than they were different. It was one of the reasons he liked coming here.

"Careful, this one's heavy."

His sleeves rolled up, the young Pantoran could see the faded tattoos in some ancient script that encircled the Vianist priest's arms. The kindly, elder Lorrdian passed the boy a large ration tin, as the pair labored with the task of re-stocking the food pantry. The boy had shown up to volunteer at the Vianist temple and, at first, the priest hadn't much for the youth to do. Oddly enough, an anonymous donation of food rations had arrived not long after the priest had expressed concern that they were not going to have enough stores to help families through the week.

Much like the food, it was an enigma just where a Pantoran had come from. Lorrd was far enough from Orto Plutonia as to make their presence a rarity, though the priest's attempts at gleaning more about the mysterious young boy were interrupted by the arrival of his own church secretary. "Brother, there is a call for you on the comm."

Looking up from their labors, the kindly priest gave a nod in acknowledgement. Laying a hand on the youngling's shoulder, the man said, "Just do what you can. I'll be back shortly." And he left.

Perhaps it was just coincidence, but Boo didn't believe in coincidences. Instead, he believed that Balagoth moved in mysterious ways. Just as the priest was rounding the corner, out of sight, a muted chirp could be heard. The distinctive tone prompting the boy to reaching into the back pocket of his trousers, where he'd tucked his HoloBoy Advanced.

On the screen was a set of coordinates. No message, just the coordinates. The identity of the sender said the rest. The comlink came up as the one he had in his contacts for Théodred Heavenshield, but the nature of the communication seemed to make clear that the more likely source for this message was [member="Coci Heavenshield"].

With a sigh, the boy hung his head as he tucked the device back into his pocket. Then, drawing in a breath, the boy stretched out his arms. It was slow at first. A thin layer of frost spreading over the inside of the large pantry. It was the power of the Dark Side of the Force. Passion. Anger. Hatred. Malice. One by one, each feeling repressed, each instinct held in check, was loosen from its chains as the boy raised his arms.

And, one by one, the ration tins lifted from out of the delivery crates, levitating in the air as they floated toward the empty shelves.

When the priest returned, it was snowing inside of the food pantry. The delivery crates were gone, their contents now neatly arranged for the hungry, the destitute to come in search of a meal. And there was no sign of the strange boy, who'd appeared at the right time in the right place as though he were some kind of divine providence.

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THE PLANET
Z Y G E R R I A
THE SILVER SANCTUM COALITION

Shall I tell you a story of a time long ago?

Of a world where slavery was normal. So normal, in fact, that it became the primary occupation for its people. One was either the slaver or the slave, and the latter usually still contributed to the former's industry in some manner. In fact, many slaves became free only to turn and become slavers themselves, incarcerating others into the life from which they, themselves, had only just escaped.

Then, the Silver Sanctum Coalition had arrived. Seeing the good in representative government, the Zygerrians lay down their slavers chains and everyone lived happily ever after...

Yeah, that chit wasn't happening.

A rocket-propelled detonator slammed into an embankment, sending a geyser of sand up into the air. It was raining rocks down on the Antarian Rangers, the Coalition's own law enforcement having traced an illegal slaver operation to a fortified location about twenty clicks south of an abandoned star port. The presence of slaves made the Rangers hesitant to rush in, for fear of hostages being injured, and the ensuing heavy blaster fire exchanged by both sides had caused a stalemate.

With the Coalition fleet interdicting the space above, and the Rangers on the ground, the slavers were holed up with no where to go. And apparently were unwilling to yield. It gave promise that today was going to be bloody for all involved.

"Coyote-Two-Nine, Whiskey-Four-Seven. Acknowledged. Out." Handing the comm unit back to the communications tech, the lieutenant ducked his head down as blaster bolts sailed over the ridge just inches above. "HOLD FIRE!" the man barked over the echoing thunder. "WE'RE PULLING BACK."

The grizzled sergeant scowled as the lieutenant ran over. Lowering down his binoculars, the gruff Ranger snapped,"WHAT?"

"JEDI COMING IN," the lieutenant shouted, straining to make himself heard as another detonator exploded near enough that the tremor nearly took him off his feet.

"JEDI?" the Ranger shouted back. "WE NEED THE WHOLE GORRAM MARINES!"

"HEADS UP!"

The shout from another Ranger caused both men to duck down. The wash of repulsorlifts blasted down the inside of the hastily dug trench. Shielding their eyes against the dust and sand now kicked up into a veritable sandstorm, the Antarian Rangers were presented with a sky blotted out by the shadow and unmistakable form of a Sith spacecraft. The haunting silhouette lingered there for a moment, then vanished as quickly as it had come. Dusting off the sand that had piled up on his arms and shoulders, the lieutenant barked, "What the hell was that!?"

Grabbing the lieutenant by the arm, the gruff soldier spun the man around and pushed a set of binoculars into his hands. Pointing out beyond the ridge, the soldier said only, "There."

At the head of a large cloud of dust, a white enameled swoop bike was plowing across the desert at inhumanly fast speeds. Veering to the right, the rider narrowly avoided an inbound detonator charge. Catching the backside of the shockwave, the bike rolled left as heavy blaster fire lanced out toward it.

As the lieutenant's jaw fell open the soldier just crossed his arms as he watched the display, "The feth did they send us? A Jedi or a fething pod racer?"

[ - t b c - ]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

C H A P T E R • O N E​

♫​

"And I find it kind of funny... I find it kind of sad... The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had"​

- Tears for Fears​

THE PLANET
Z Y G E R R I A
THE SILVER SANCTUM COALITION

The Vianist priest on Lorrd, knowing nothing about the boy, had wondered if he hadn't been an angel of some kind.

Truth be known, Boo had arranged for the delivery of food to the Vianist temple. One of the obligations of the Primeval faith was the giving of alms, but it was hard to know to just what charity one should entrust their credits to. There were a lot of scams and thieves out there.

He knew. Once, not long ago, he'd been one of them.

If the Vianist priest knew that a boy of just eleven rotations would have chosen to spend his credits on giving to others, he might have been inclined to confuse the young Pantoran with a saint. But if he knew how the boy earned his pay, he'd have been closer to the truth.

And the truth was, the people inside the bunker on Zygerria were learning far more about the mysterious boy than he let most ever glimpse.

Red snow was falling. The cold aura radiating from out of the youngling's small form created a cryokinetic effect upon the environment, as the surge of Dark Side energies seemed to siphon the warmth from out of the air and left behind the frozen whispers of the child's ancestral home. And there, tip-toeing between the devil and the dark was the Primeval witch-boy. With the grace of an acrobat, the boy arced back through the air. Twisting with the motion, his lithe form slipped between a pair of blaster bolts. Planting a hand down on top of a battered table, the youth performed a hand-spring and vaulted to the floor.

The table popped off the floor with a motion of both hands. Taking a step forward, a second motion sent the table through the air with sudden, violent force. The sound of duracrete cracking echoed audibly as the table connected with the wall, and a pair of humanoids were caught in between. Kicking a snake up from off the floor at his feet, the boy's hands slid along the black, obsidian scales. As his hands passed, an electric field seemed to pass, and the snake transformed into something more rigid. With fluid, powerful sweeps of his arms, the boy whipped the amphistaff around to deflect a series of blaster bolts back toward the shooters, barely visible through the haze of blood, snow, and dust.

The large shadow of a man passed in front of him. Without hesitating, the boy whipped the amphistaff back, neatly bisecting the man in two as if a sword were passing through rice paper. As he spun the staff, blood splattered in all directions as the youngling stuck out his hand and sent the pieces of the body flying out to distract his next set of targets.

This was Boo at his most evangelical.

He wasn't a saint. And he damn sure wasn't an angel. He was a monster. A demon who wanted desperately to be anyone other than what he had become.

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THE PLANET
C O R U S C A N T
2 YEARS EARLIER

"Spare a credit, sir?"

He stood on a corner, asking for spare change. The boy's blue skin held an unhealthy pallor. He looked like he hadn't bathed in a week and smelled like it might have been two. The blisters on his feet attested to the fact that his shoes had been taken from him. His clothes were torn and nasty, likely recovered from a dumpster, and in bad enough condition that no one had tried to taken those from him as well.

Stumbling, staggering, the child tried to step out into the crowds that were passing him by as though he wasn't even there. "Please, miss?" the boy asked, only to get knocked aside when they walked him as though oblivious to his ever been standing there.

A rough shove. He connected with the side of the building. He fell to the ground. They stepped over him. No one offered to help him up.

Spit upon.

Cursed at.

All for asking for help. "Please, sir?" the youngling asked, not able to raise his eyes even as he held his hands up in the hopes that the man might drop a credit there. Instead, he felt a large palm grab him by the head and shove him aside.

"Out of my way!"

It happened so fast, few would have noticed. The briefest contact. Not between the man's hand and the boy's forehead, but between the Pantoran's fingers and the man's pocket. The blue-skinned street urchin went careening back against the building, slumping to the ground.

It was only as the man continued on, that the boy's amber eyes glanced from the retreating back to his own clenched fist. Opening it to reveal the stolen credit cube there in the palm of his hand...

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THE PLANET
Z Y G E R R I A
THE SILVER SANCTUM COALITION

Blood was dripping from the ceiling.

It gave the impression of raining blood, as the blood-splattered Pantoran sat on the edge of a window that had been busted outward. Remnants and pieces of bodies and broken furniture littered the blood-soaked sands as the Antarian Rangers approached the bunker that had gone silent. What they found waiting for them was one eleven year old boy, staring at the sun with a blank expression on his red-smeared face as a playful amphistaff used its snout to dig and play in the sand at the child's feet.

He'd found two deathsticks in the back pocket of one of the guys in the house.

...well, it might have been a guy. It could have been a girl, too, he supposed. At this point, there was no telling without genetic testing to sort through which arm went with which torso.

In any case, the boy had plucked a deathstick from out of some corpse's pocket and curled up on a ledge to watch the sunset, as though wondering if perhaps the light of day could burn him away. He hadn't even paid attention to the Antarian Rangers approaching from the ridge where they'd been hold up.

At least, not until a hand smacked the half-smoked deathstick from out of his hand.

Blinking, the boy's amber eyes focused on the gruff face of a soldier whose bulk was now blotting out the sun. "They'll stunt your growth," the grizzled soldier barked gruffly.

Blinking a second time, the boy sized up the man in front of him. Toned, solid muscle. He probably spent morning and night in the gym. "Yeah. And you shoudn't do steroids," the Pantoran offered flippantly. "They'll shrink your p..."

The man's fist connected with the side of the boy's face.

To his amazement, the boy seemed unfazed by the blow. "You should show some respect," the Ranger growled.

Allowing the blood to pool in his mouth, the boy spit a mixture of blood and phlegm in the Ranger's eye. As the man snapped backward, two more Rangers came forward to grab him and drag him away from the child with the dead eyes, who seemed to watch everything with an utter detachment.

"-tt-"

[ - t b c - ]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

C H A P T E R • T W O​

♫​

"If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."​

- J. K. Rowling​

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER SANCTUM COALITION

Two patrol craft provided an armed escorted to a landing pad on the far side of the star port.

Security was fairly light at Voss-Ka. If you were looking for the Antarian Rangers, you need only look for which docking bay the Equinox was parked at. They'd be there. Constantly vigilant as though waiting for him to start the Sith Inquisition. He got the sense that they wanted to deny his entry, but [member="Thurion Heavenshield"]'s declaration regarding the boy had tied their hands of the ability to arrest him. At least, to arrest him without reason.

And they seemed eager to try and find something that might give them that reason.

The distrust was as palpable as it was unreasoning. He was Primeval, and nothing about his actions could take away from the fact that he was the enemy. Just by virtue of what he believed, he became the living embodiment of all their resentment. He could rescue a thousand [member="Théodred Heavenshield"]s, or the one a thousand times over, and it wouldn't matter. The shadow of Ziost hung like a funeral pall over everything he did.

There were at least two Antarian Rangers following him now, as the boy made his way from out of the busy star port and into the city proper.

Or, the city improper, as it were. The parts of Voss-Ka that the tourists were shielded from. The alleyways and back streets hidden from public view. When one lived in a society poorly managed, wealth was a thing to be ashamed of. Yet, in a society well managed, with public and civil services -- and the high cost of living associated with those things -- poverty was what people were ashamed of.

A man stood outside a liquor store begging for change. His clothes were dirty and he obviously had no home. All of his worldly possessions were what was on his back and the battered flimsiplast cup he used to try and gather enough for something to drink.

His name was Athal-Le. Once upon a time, he'd had a job. And a family. He'd served with the Voss Commandos at the First Battle of Drago Forge, but been discharged for disciplinary issues before the Second. His wife left him fifteen years ago. Changed the locks on the door, the access codes for the accounts, and had the sheriff serve him the papers. He'd tried a shelter or halfway house, but they wanted him to complete a program. Maybe treatment for mental health issues, alcoholism... but Athal-Le didn't want that. The label or the treatment.

He'd take something eat though. So Boo got him a sandwich, sat and listened to whatever the man wanted to say. Which seemed like nothing at all. What was the cost of a sandwich? What was the price of twenty minutes of someone's time?

Bera-Sa was only four years older than Boo. She'd run away from home and now managed to eek a life for herself, ducking in and out of shelters. A year prior, she'd been a star student at her school. Then she'd met a boy, gotten pregnant, and when that happened he'd stopped returning her comm calls. She'd thought about having the baby, but her parents had taken her to a clinic. They called her a sinner and they called her a whore. Other people who knew of the situation called her a killer.

He bought her a cup of caf, listened, and offered her a small book of prayers and inspiration about the Primeval's sole female deity -- Nogras, the Starmaker. A book of quotes wasn't likely to change her circumstances, but hopefully it would inspire some optimism as she moved forward.

He knew from his own experience of the audacity of hope, the overwhelming sense of futility, and the power of just a little bit of optimism.

It was diapers and medicine for Sorcha-Kal. Her husband had been a riveter on the construction yards at the space port. One night a week, he'd go out with the guys from work. The last time, he'd gotten into a fight, lost his head, and wound up dead. Now, Sorcha-Kal had 2 kids, a limited education, and was working two jobs to try and make ends meet.

As the boy walked out of the alley, he looked down the street to see that the Antarian Rangers were still there. Watching him through thinly veiled glares and accusatory glances.

Turning around, the Pantoran looked up the mountain ridge to see the Silver Temple outlined against the horizon. And, marveling at the splendor of that ancient temple, wondered... did the Jedi know anything about the people living in their own backyard?

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

Lorrd​

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Night and the Shadows have cast their welcome​

​

This was the final piece in the puzzle. She had come here before with another of the Shadows to track down a traitor within the Silver Sanctum, and they found that Jedi, but that day forgiveness had ruled, there had been a sense of hope and remorse in that one, but she knew there had to be another. Someone that manipulated the mind of one so young, Creimire had not been able to rid herself of the sense that the job had been left unfinished. Keeping their eyes and ears open to further deception, a small group of Shadows were dispatched to Lorrd to keep vigilance and report to her if there had been any update. Once the target had been acquired, she left Voss on an unmarked ship.

The streets are covered in water from the rain ceased, the neon lights on the buildings, flashed their reflection in disjointed patterns on the darkened polluted paving, black boots flecked with dirt trod in silence, so soft her footfalls that none would detect the presence of one passing them, they would not see her either nor any of those beings attuned to the force would sense her, for she is shrouded within the blanket of the force and concealed to even the night. The ally ways are place for one like she, Creimire is rodent, and scuttles between the crates and rubbish that litter the ground, her black eyes dilated to the full with the ability to see more then most, she always could. This given gift of birth, allows her to see what most cannot. Her husband had described them as jewels of black beautiful and sometimes dangerous, he is perceptive.

To the door of the resident she stands, a side door to issue entrance and she senses the man inside, now complacent thinking himself safe. He, the very reason some many people had died and would die if not stopped, having handed over information of the Silver Sanctum and it's weaknesses to the highest bidder. And this man would walk the Silver Temple in the shroud of Jedi. He would not do so again.

The man revealed himself, the aura of the darkside spewed into the room, pure evil within him, no remorse no underlining angst of guilt or sadness for a life lost to horrific events, but one in total darkness consumed by it to the point he did not know who he was anymore. The blue blade of her lightside flashed and spun through the air, and his head rolled to the floor before his body dropped to join it. Creimire turned and walked away, leaving the room and the door open in her wake.

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[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

C H A P T E R • T H R E E​

♫​

"History is moving pretty quickly these days, and the heroes and villains keep on changing parts."​

- Ian Flemming​

THE PLANET
V O S S
THE SILVER SANCTUM COALITION

How to be a Jedi.

Step One. Pick a planet that almost no one has heard of, out toward the Outer Rim, and make that your capital planet. Bonus points if its a world already ruled by coked up Force hippies with control freak issues.

Step Two. Make your home an old temple on the top of a gorram mountain. With a long, winding road and a literal feth ton of steps up the gorram mountain to even get to the damn courtyard, which wasn't even in sight of the front door! Bonus points if the road up the mountain is on the completely opposite side of the city as the space port and they force you to land on the docking bay that was in the ass end of that!

Satchel thrown over one shoulder, and an amphistaff draped across the other, the young Pantoran made his way up the long and winding road. Which was long and winding for what reason exactly? I mean, there were totally modern construction techniques that would straighten this path in about a week, tops. Plus, was this 844 ABY or 844 BBY? I mean, weren't moving sidewalks a thing? Why was he lugging his chit and what felt like a Hutt ton of snake up the side of a mountain?

Oh wait. Because Jedi. That's why.

As he crested the top of the steps cut into the stone, the boy paused to catch his breath. Ahead, he could hear a myriad of sounds. People talking. Younglings playing. Even the clash of training sabers. It was the sound of a temple that was brought alive by the society and community fostered within. So he ought to look forward to being part of something, right? Meeting new people, making new friends... all that nerfchit?

Right?

...yeah, not so much. No.

"DARKSIDER!"

He'd taken about two steps before someone had announced it to the gorram world. Collective gasp, and the younglings who weren't staring at him now like he was some hideous zoo exhibit were running and screaming whenever he passed them by. Oh, and the adults? They were working on perfecting the Jedi power of Force Disapproving Glare.

Step Three. Be a complete and total arsehole.

Seriously, would it kill them to be nice to the Sith kid for once in a gorram blue fething moon? You know, he'd only just fed the homeless and saved a bunch of Antarian Rangers back on Zygerria. Plus, he'd totally helped free slaves... and maybe killed a bunch of people, without any due regard to laws, due process, or... Anyway, that wasn't the point! The point was... he really didn't remember, except that Jedi were arsehol...

Oh wait, no. Now he remembered.

Yeah. They didn't have a problem asking him to do chit for them. But could they maybe include him in a game of Forceball sometimes?

As he made it back to the spartan quarters set aside for him in the Silver Temple, without a single person saying anything to him aside from "Darksider! Darksider coming!" -- which wasn't even really said TO him -- it seemed that the answer was no. Tossing his satchel down onto the bed, the boy bent down to allow the amphistaff to slither down onto the floor of the room. The biot made a beeline for the dog bed that resided in one corner, coiling up as it fished a chew toy out from under the cushion and began rolling around the floor with it.

Throwing himself down on the bed, the young Pantoran stared up at the ceiling and listened to the sound of other younglings playing outside.

...and wondered why he hadn't saved another of those death sticks from the slaver he'd killed. Living with Jedi kinda required good drugs. Any drugs for that matter.

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

Voss​

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The Dark Heart​

​

Nightmare lands, is a place least explored by the Silver Jedi, that Creimire liked it that way, as did the rest of the Shadows. Although the old ruins had been looked into, many years ago, in fact it was the first time she had met a certain Jedi Master on that mission, but had little to do with him, for the most part the Jedi had left it to itself. But not all Jedi, the Silver Shadows had set up home there, and only those members knew of the head quarters within it. If someone was to stumble upon the ruins, they would never find the entrance to the dark heart unless they had guidance. There is still much darkness with the Heart as well as the shifting essence in the force around the Nightmare Lands, it is part of the mystery and beauty of Voss. And then of course there is the Rift ...

Creimire guided the ship to ground, which vanished behind the hill, and off the radar. The large doors to the docking bay opened swallowing the ship as it passed the walls and into the Heart, the light streaming through the view port guided her to land, no crew only droids there to see to the ship once inside. Creimire left the pilot seat, and existed through the ramp which had not even touched the floor before she jumped out, happy to be back on ground once more. The woman a duplicity in most ways, and not in others, held in common emotion of the fear of flying.

She thumped the side of the wall where housed the control panel for the Heart and all the interior lights came on, light up the many metal overhanging platforms that lead to all manner of rooms, but her destination was control head quarters and once there she powered up the computer. The blue screen jumped to life before her black eyes, her fingers dancing across the buttons logged in 'mission complete'. That was it, that was all that was needed. It was only now could she relax and allow a good deep breath to fill her spirits once more before Creimire turned and headed for the change room.

Opening her personal locker, to find her Jedi Robes and second lightsaber, Creimire finally reached up to her face and removed her mask ...

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[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

Voss​

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Open plains​

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The wind whipped through her long black hair, as the BARC ground speeder zipped across the open plains toward the Silver Temple. Coci is tried, the journey had taken much from her, and she needed a place to go and unwind for a while. It takes a little effort to rid ones self of the results of a mission, clear the mind and refocus on what needs ones attention again. There is no switch to flick off when she returns from such a thing, it is not that easy. Yet, the afternoon rays of the sun bathing the plains in a golden light helped greatly, the warmth of it lost in the wind but the view was beautiful. The long grasses swaying as she passed, cast yellow across the horizon and set the green pale that would normally be vivid in it natural state. The avian are busy with the last of the days chores, securing the last of supper for their young before sleep would claim them. They paid her no mind as the speeder speed by.

In the distance the Temple came to view, standing high on the rock over looking it immediate surroundings, the light of Voss-ka only a blur on the distant horizon, white with the glow of it, and reading for the night as well, people of that city preparing their own sucker and the thought of all this made her realise she too needed to eat. Pushing the throttle forward the speeder bounded forward.

The main entrance to the Temple is quiet this evening, Coci suspected most of the Sanctum are busy with duty and the like, yet as she walked the white marble floor, there is a strange familiar presence here tonight, one she had not felt since Midvinter's Winter Fete. A young man, with connection to the Heavenshields, which had come about via the virtue of the force no doubt, and through a connection to their son, Théo. Coci had met Boo on Midvinter but briefly before he ran away from her. Before that pod racing, but either way the young man had done his utmost to avoid her.

Coci walked over to a small booth that is there for reception of visitors to the Temple but there is also a control panel and pulled up the file on the quarters, she noted that Boo had take up residence in his allocated room, for a moment she pondered on the young man before she summon a service droid. Leaning down and scribbling on a piece of paper, she handed it to the droid once finished. "Please deliver this to room B-12, thank you". She would leave this entirely up to Boo, if he wished to seek her out.

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[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

He'd fallen asleep.

On his back, arms cradled around the satchel bag like a pillow, the boy's head was turned to the left as he slumbered peacefully with his feet dangling off the side of the bed. A sound jostled him awake, though he couldn't immediately place just what it was. As he stirred, a low, rumbling hiss resonated in protest. Carefully lifting up his right side, the young Pantoran realized that the amphistaff had snaked its way underneath his body, and was obviously quite comfortable.

Sleepily, the boy yawned and looked around the spartan room in search of the chronometer. It was obviously dusk, which meant he'd probably just slept through the whole day. Or, at least, most of it. Hey, he'd done a lot today. Or yesterday. Or in the period since he'd last slept. Interplanetary travel made it hard to keep the actual days straight. Plus, he was eleven. Which was almost twelve. Which was almost thirteen and, thus, he was almost a teenager.

And what teenager did you know that DIDN'T sleep most of the day?

Oh, wait, let me guess... Jedi.

Flopping back down on the bed, the boy resigned himself to going back to sleep. Which, was when the door chime echoed again. Was that what had woken him up? And who would even be standing at his door? Boo kept tabs on the people that were important to him, and Théo was supposed to be on Rhen Var. And [member="Norah Kitts-Castillon"] was probably on one of the Firemane Industries planets, which wasn't Voss. And that was pretty much the exhaustive list of people who might give a flying feth about him.

What could he say? He was a popular kid.

A third of the door chime. "WHAT!?" the boy demanded, sitting bolt upright on the bed. What the Hutt did these people want? He answered the door, bed-headed and disheveled, only to find a small droid there. The Pantoran stared down at the droid, confused, and the ocular sensor of the droid just stared back... as though waiting for something. "What?" the youngling repeated, in a softer tone this time.

A string of chirps in droidspeak followed. Now, Boo wasn't fluent by any means, but he did spend an excessive amount of time cooped up in a personal transport with only an R3 model astromech to talk to. So, he'd more or less managed to figure out how to have a conversation. "A letter?" the boy said, not entirely certain he'd translated that correctly.

Another burst of binary noises. "Message? What message?" the boy asked, as a piece of loub-paper was produced and extended outward for the boy to take.

Paper? Seriously? Who wrote on paper!? Again, was this 844 ABY or...

The droid uttered a few low clicks, in a rather judgmental tone for a walking Xerox machine. Lowering the note down, the boy had a bewildered look on his face as he tried to translate that in his head. And it wasn't making any sense. "'Recycle yourself?' What..."

The next burst of droidspeak was a little more specific.

Looking down at himself, the boy realized that even though he'd changed out of his armor, he still had dried blood clinging to him. Hopefully not his own. Well, probably not his own. "Oh."

+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +​

He'd let Azi out the window, which opened up to the hanging gardens, so that the amphistaff could hunt or chase squirrels, and then took a quick rinse under the sani-stream to clean himself up. He hadn't really packed any clothes, and really didn't have that many. He had a set of Primeval light combat armor, a set of Sasori armored robes, and a LOT of weapons. But clothes? Not so much, no. Luckily, there'd been a Sasori garment hanging up in the closet in his room from the last time he'd been here. Nothing fancy, just a navy-colored jinbei style garment made of brushed cotton.

It was a lightweight garment made for warm, summer-like climates. Voss-Ka was, of course, in the high reaches of the mountains. But, while there was snow on the top of the mountain, it wasn't snowing here. At least not during this season. And any time it wasn't snowing, it was warm to a Pantoran. That was something he seemed to share in common with Théo.

He was unarmed, which, for him, meant he had a hold-out blaster and two shivs concealed within the folds of his clothing. Armed imply that people knew he was armed, such as carrying a lightsaber. Which, was always more for show anyway.

With a large yawn, the boy drifted inside of the cafeteria. Rubbing at his amber eyes, the youngling looked around for the person who'd asked him to come here.

Jedi Master Théo's Mom.

Sith Lords would be less intimidating right now.

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

She raised her head and closed her eyes, allowing the hot water to run over her body. It was only now could see shake off the event of the mission, and clear her mind. Coci is no cold blooded killer, each kill takes something from her and clashes with the of wanting to save life rather then take. But her action had saved lives this day, the life of one to save thousands, if not millions as the rippling effect of the death would bring about.

Yet, there is always a counter to this, she knows this, others would seek retribution, but not only that, when one dies another is born. But for a short time the galaxy is just that little bit safer for some. The life of a Silver Jedi Shadow, is duplicitous and many lack the understanding of the need for them, fear them in some cases, and because of this Shadows have to remain hidden. Thurion knows of course, as does Connor, but that is all.

Coci dressed soon enough, deciding less formal attire to be more appropriate for dinner with Boo and hoped to appear less commanding, after all this was not the intention from her. She found her way to the mess hall and saw the young man alone seated waiting for her, yet she addressed those in the room that had greeted her on arrival with a smile and a few words before making her way to the table.

"Thank you for joining me this evening, it will be nice to have dinner with company". After all Thurion and Nina are away tonight, and Théo on Rhen Var, and so she sat opposite him. "I trust you are well Boo?". She said with a hint of a small soft smile.

​

[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

For having massacred an entire bunker full of slavers, Boo seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride.

He had a glass of Fizzyglug in front of him. And "dinner" was a plate of nerf wings, though the celery on the plate was at least a marginal promise that he might actually eat something green. Unless you were counting the steak fries which were technically a vegetable.

Plus, people died all the time.

The mistake he'd made, for a time, was that he hadn't asked any questions. The Host Lord said "kill," he'd kill. The Host Lord said "take that," and he took it. After what happened on Bastion, he'd started to ask questions... but it had been difficult.

Faith was the ability to believe in something, even if you couldn't see it. You had to trust it. You had to trust the people interpreting it. People who didn't like questions. Unbelievers asked questions. Heretics asked questions. Spirituality was about faith, but religion seemed more about obedience. The need to adhere to a system where people understood that asking questions was the unforgivable sin.

Still, after Wayland, he'd begun asking just one question. "Why are they dying?"

If it was because they were slavers holed up in a bunker, resisting arrest, and preying upon the people of the Coalition and Zygerria... eh... that seemed like a pretty good reason for people to be dying. He really wasn't that upset about it.

Truthfully, he really wasn't thinking about. Instead, he was shoveling a handful of fries into his mouth while using his free hand to hold up the HoloBoy Advanced. He'd picked up The Secret of Mynock Island while he'd been out in Voss-Ka, and was totally stuck right now in a cargo hold with only a torch, a used toothpick, and a tomato in his inventory. What the hell he was supposed to do with any one of those objects... he had no idea.

A shadow passed overhead. As the boy looked up with his amber eyes, a chill was creeping down his spine. An uneasy smile was fixed upon his face, as the boy was joined by Théo's mom. Which, why did it have to be the mom? [member="Thurion Heavenshield"], Théo's dad, was intimidating... but it was no worse than the whole 'I Sith Lord, You Live At My Leisure' sort of intimidating bad-ass-ness. Which Boo could totally respect and fear at the same time.

Chock it up to the fact that the one father figure in his whole life had been a Sith Lord who'd pretty much made it his sole responsible to find new and creative ways in which to try and either kill Boo, or get Boo killed.

As for mother figures...

That was an unknown unknown.

You see, there are known knowns. That is, you know what you know. For example, the capital of Coruscant is... Coruscant!

And then there are known unknowns. That is, you know what you don't know. For example, Boo was certain he had no idea what the orbital diameter of Coruscant was.

But then there are unknown unknowns. That is, you have no idea what you're missing. And, when it came to mothers, Boo was pretty certain he wasn't really missing it. Because they were just creepy. Talk about perfecting Force Disapproving Glare...

In any case, she'd said something about company for dinner. What that was about, Boo had no idea. He ate alone all the time. Assuming, that is, that we weren't counting R3 and Azi.

...and then she asked him, what, exactly? "Yeah, sure... I... guess?" the youngling answered back, not really certain he understood the question, or that he'd answered it.

Not a whole lot of people asked the Sith how they were doing.

Wait, was he supposed to say something now? "And you," the boy chirped, awkwardly. "...how... how are you?"

...if he tossed a steak fry, maybe that would distract her long enough for a Force Stealth out the side door?

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

For a short moment, Coci sat contemplating the young boy across from her, not to intimidate or make him feel awkward, but to consider him. She had seen this state of being before today, a young boy on the edge of manhood her son had given Thurion and herself much grief in this phase of his life. But with Théo, both of his parents knew him and knew what had triggered such a bout of behaviour from their son. Was Boo an unknown unknown? to a point.

What was it that continually had this young man returning to them? Was he seeking answers to questions that could never be answered? Yes, everyone does that, even when adult as the journey of life is trod one always questions. Training, she doubted as he is already such and continues to grow with that, that much was apparent in his stance of body even sitting at the table. Or was it that he was simply, lonely.

She knew very little of Boo, even though Théo had spoke of him but even Théo had been clipped in his choice to tell of his friend. Mainly because Théo wanted to protect his friend, and the aura surrounding Boo told her why, there is much darkness in the boy still. But there is more, much more to him then that .. for within Boo is a strong sense of good, there light there too. Even if Boo is unaware of it.

Coci's order of food was delivered promptly and placed in front of her to which she thanked the service droid before they departed to continue their work. "You have returned to Voss again. I am pleased for that. But tell me. What have you seen?". A slightly cryptic question which she hoped would yield an answer that would give her more.

​

[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

What had he seen?

Mouth and chin smeared with orange-yellow rancor sauce, the boy held up a nerf wing in his sticky fingers and looked blankly back at the woman across from him. "Since Felucia?" the youngling asked. Was that the last time he'd been to Voss? Before he'd left for the Felucia mission? It seemed like a really long time ago, but he supposed it wasn't really. He was still just eleven years old, after all.

"Uhhh..." the boy murmured, tilting his head to one side as he thought about the question. Absently, he picked up a steak fry and swirled it around a mixture of ketchup and mustard. "Ummmm..."

He didn't ordinarily talk very much. Not to people anyway. He talked to R3 and Azi, but that was different. And he talked to Théo, but Théo wasn't people. He was just Théo, and Boo's only friend that wasn't either a living weapon or an astromech droid. Plus, the Heavenshield family knew everything there was to know about Boo. He was Primeval. He'd assisted an execution of a couple of Jedi on Bastion, including Silver Jedi Padawan Asaak Tey. Oh, and did I mention he was Primeval?

So, when it came to safe people to talk to, it wasn't like he was going to say something that the Master Heavenshield wouldn't already know. "There was Vullain," the boy offered finally, before popping the steak fry into his mouth. Chewing that around for a bit, the boy took a drink of his Fizzyglug before continuing. "It's an ice world, so I went there to kind of clear my head after the whole Tarentatek-Felucia-Darkside-Poison thing," Did she know about that? She knew about that, right?

Actually, come to think about it, she probably didn't know that Boo had gotten pricked by a tarentatek spine on Korriban. But, the part about Vullain ought to make sense. He was Pantoran, after all. Icy planets were the best! Anyway, "Except, the One Sith were there. And, and there was this one guy, his name is [member="Catalys Maijora"], and we... we were in the Bleeding Sun together. So... so, we kinda hung."

The boy paused to eat another nerf wing. "Well, actually..." the youth murmured, while still chewing his food. "He pointed a blaster at my head," Boo recalled aloud, pausing to swallow and then picking up his drink. "...and I kinda asked him to pull the trigger. But he didn't, so that must mean we're cool, right?" the boy asked, before taking a sip.

"But the Sith are just... well, Sith," the boy remarked candidly, setting the drink back down and planting his sauce-coated hands back into the basket of steak fries. "You can kinda deal with them in small doses, but too much of a Sith thing is just kinda bad. So I started traveling with these guys, they're called the Knights of Ren, and they seemed kinda chill."

The boy raised a steak fry, as if to pop it in his mouth, then held it out toward Coci as he changed subjects slightly. "Plus, have you heard about the Supreme Leader's plan to make the galaxy great again!?" the Pantoran asked, suddenly excited. "He's seriously great! If I could vote, I'd definitely vote for him!"

The homeless orphan from Coruscant, forever adrift on a sea of stars... looking for some place to belong and something to believe in.

Another steak fry disappeared. "Oh, and I got to see Bespin, which was cool. It's this city in the clouds of a gas giant!" the boy said, with the same, uncharacteristic energy. At this rate, he was in danger of being exposed as an actual kid. "...then, I was doing some volunteer work on Altier, when the Republic came in and this whole refugee camp kinda became a war zone."

He paused to think about that one for a minute. "I was trying to help, but there were Jedi and..." Well, there was the whole thing on Lanteeb where he'd even had a Jedi come after him. Lightsaber and all. "Yeah, I've kinda had a couple of Jedi not appreciate my help so much."

"And then..."

The boy picked up his Fizzyglug and took another drink. After another moment, he simply said, "And then I came back here."

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

She sat listening to his story, pushing a piece of her food around the plate and on occasion would eat it. Some of the story she knew of, but most of it not and on the surface of it, this young man had experienced much, too much in fact for one so young and alone. But he was not alone, there are so many more like him in the galaxy, force user or not, there are so many people displaced for whatever reason, so many disjointed from family and lacking any direction or purpose. Most of the time it was because of life circumstances, those that are out of their control and visited upon them by other hands. Criminals, or war whether the perpetual war of the Sith vs Jedi or others. War is not owned by any one group after all. Nar Shaddaa is under constant attack from lawlessness and poverty, for example, even more so since the Hutts and Techno Union left it, so there is so much more to fight in the life and times of the galaxy.

But no one can be everywhere, not even the Jedi as much as the galaxy would like them to be or demands of them. "You have been to many places, and experienced many things in your young life, and maybe it is time to take stock and stay awhile. But you did not answer my question", she said as she gazed upon his face. What was it within those experiences and travels had the young man witnessed, not events, not people, but the results of them.

"You have come back to Voss, why?", she asked, "I ask this not because I don't wish you to be here, far from it. But I want to know what is in your mind, but maybe this is not the place to talk of such things". Which was true enough, an answer to a question like this requires a sense of privacy if he wished to even answer her. "You walked to the Temple from the starport in Voss-ka. What did you see?".

​

[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

The youngling's head turned to one side.

Didn't answer the question?

He'd totally answered the question! Seriously, that had probably been the most he'd talked to anyone who wasn't [member="Théodred Heavenshield"]. Not to mention probably the most he'd said in at least the last year. When you hung around an astromech droid and an amphistaff, you didn't exactly have long or involved conversations.

And then here she was again with the 'why'd you come back to Voss' schtick!

Sliding down in his chair, the boy slouched low until his feet at last touched the floor. What? Was she judging him now? Was he not welcome here anymore? Théo had moved on to Rhen Var and so his parking permit for Voss was revoked now?

...though, actually, that was a student parking permit. And he wasn't exactly taking classes at the Levantine Academy at the moment. So, maybe...

"I dunno..." the boy repeated, amber eyes flickering up from the floor for the briefest moment before deflecting away again. A hand picked up a steak fry, slopping it around a muddy pool of ketchup and mustard. "This is the only place I have friends."

Okay, so that wasn't really an answer.

Or, was it?

He'd said it in response to a question, so he supposed that technically made it an answer.

...oh, feth it, he didn't even know what the question was! Were all mothers secretly Sith Inquisitors? Or was it just this one?

"I saw the people who live in the shadows," the child supplied, in answer to the question about what he'd seen. "The people the city pretends aren't there."

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

"Life in the galaxy is difficult enough, with each and every day even when you have lots of people around you to care for you, but to do so without friends, for me at least, would be near impossible to fathom. You have many friends here, if you wish to find them. I know you and Théo are good friends, he has spoke of you much. But the Silver Jedi and all that live within our home, are more then friends .. they are family", A strange bunch of people if ever there was, but they all look out for one another as best they can. "I hope, that one day you will come to think of this place as home and those that seek your company as friends and family".

He had provided her with the answer she had sort, not only of his true intentions but of what had passed on their home planet. The Silver Jedi do not involve themselves in the politics of Voss, but are there if required and will step in to help with any dispute if and when the call comes, in turn the government of Voss allows them free passage and to live here, it is a relationship that works well for both parties.

"People that live in the shadows, are 'not seen'? now this is disturbing. Tell me more please". If there is homeless on this planet, whether it is in the capital or the smallest of villages on Voss, shall not be tolerated. "Or better still .. show me". She pushed her plate aside, and stood up from the table ready to go immediately.

​

[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

Friends and family.

The former concept was one he had very little experience with, and the latter none at all. "The Sith don't really 'do' friends much," the youth noted aloud, pausing for a moment to think about statement. "And by 'much,' I mean... at all." he amended after a thought. So if Sith didn't have friends, then what did that say about his answer that this was the only place he had friends?

"Théo's really the only friend I have," the boy noted, with a shrug.

And what was the deal with family, anyway?

At the invitation to show her, the boy got up and began moving out of the cafeteria. Hopefully Coci had grabbed some napkins, because the Pantoran was still wearing a fair amount of dinner on his face and hands. But the orange-ish sauce did give a good contrast to his blue skin.

"I never had a family though," the young Pantoran stated, before looking up at the woman. "Aren't those just people who tell you what to do, and how to act, and just want you to go to university or get a job so you get out of their house?" To be fair, Master Théo's Mom and Grandmaster Théo's Dad didn't seem like they were that way, but the holo-sitcoms certainly made it seem like that was how it worked. It was a trope in all the classics. Mandalorian... with Children. Modern Clan. Fiends.

...or, could it be that all families really were that way? I mean, The Masters Heavenshield were on Voss, but Théo was out on Rhen Var.

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

"No, it is not in their nature to have them. At least .. not after the darkness takes a strong hold of them and they loose who they are", a point of contention in most circles but they cannot get away from the fact that the darkside is all consuming and demands tribute for the use of it. "I am pleased you have found a friend in Theo, Boo. I hope that you can learn from him as much as he can learn from you. The love of friendship is powerful too, and can cloud the judgement of the mind equally as the love of the heart and much be kept with vigilance equally". Easier said then done and know one knows this more then she.

However, Coci could not help but laugh as this supposition of family. "Yes and no. Mothers and fathers do do this, but with love in their hearts and concern for the well being of their children. At least good parents do, but again this is not something one reads in books or finds in holocrons as to how to be the best of parents. We make mistakes too. But without family, I don't know where I would be today". She said with a little insight into her life, after all it was [member="Thurion Heavenshield"] that had pulled her from the shadows, so cold and hard and soften the young woman so many years ago now.

"It is a balancing act, that not everyone or all parents get right, and it is even more different being parents within an Order of Jedi, who's children follow that path as well". Yes both she and her husband want nothing more then to see their children safe and protected but they will not be around forever.

"If I may be so personal and ask .. but what happened Boo, to you and your family?". They would find themselves outside the main doors of the Silver Temple, the night shrouding them in the shadows of the night, but there is no danger here, no lurking demons awaiting them to pounce the unwary. And soon, a transport would arrive to take them into Voss-ka. However she noticed his face dirty with sauce from his food, and lifted his face by the chin, "You have a little something .. ", she said wiping the stain away with the cuff of her robes.

​

[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

The darkness was inviting.

The boy had never enjoyed the light. It was alien. Foreign to him. Growing up under the crushing weight of Coruscant, no amount of natural light had ever filtered down to the ghettos and shanty towns that dotted along sewer pipes and run-off streams.

If anything, the darkness invited the memories of fear and uncertainty that went directly to the woman's question. "I dunno..." the boy replied offhandedly, tucking his arms up so that his hands where folded behind his head. "They died when I was, like, four."

Died. Left. Abandoned. He wasn't even certain which was true, and it didn't really matter now. The end was the same no matter the means.

"I lived with the Dunegal Gang. They taught me how to survive," the boy recalled. By 'survive' he meant 'how to steal.' Food or credits, it was much the same thing. "Until he got killed, then we were the Jorphin Gang... or the Hamlin Gang..." the boy added, though even having lived it, he doubted he could keep it all straight. Life was cheap on Coruscant, as with just about any planet in the known galaxy. "It was kind of a revolving door of gang wars."

As the transport to Voss-Ka arrived, the boy continued the narrative while scrambling inside for a seat. "Then I pickpocketed a guy for spare credits, and he turned out to be Darth Scorpius," he said, with no small amount of venom in how he uttered aloud the name of this particular Dark Lord. "I guess if I'd been born on a different planet, I might have been discovered by the Jedi. Except, this was Coruscant." If you came to someone's attention on Coruscant, it damned sure wasn't going to be the Jedi that came for you.

"Anyway, he decided I could work off my crime. Or die. Or both," the boy said, flopping down into a seat and then spinning around so that he was standing on his knees, facing over the back of the seat so that he could look out the windows of the transport as it traveled down the mountain. "He liked it when we killed each other off, but... I guess he's the closest thing I ever had to family," the boy opined aloud, turning his head away from the window to look over at the Dread Jedi Master Théo's Mom.

Which was when the attack came.

At first, he didn't understand what she was doing. She touched his face, taking him by the chin and then...

...what was she doing with her sleeve?

As his face was getting buffed out like a piece of brass, instincts kicked in and the boy's hands reacted to slap at the woman's hands until they'd been retracted. Even then, the boy's hands were raised and on guard, making several ghost strikes in the air to communicate that he fully trained in the ancient and deadly art of Slap-Fu.

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​

 

[Coci Heavenshield]

One thing that was increasingly good about this meeting, was that Boo had not ran off on her, at least not yet. Even better was that he seemed to open up to her and spoke of his past, recent and as a younger child growing up on Coruscant. She knew, well enough, the levels of the so called Jewel of the Galaxy, having spent much time down in the depths where the sun never reaches nor the protection of authority. It was, is a sad place and every time she visited the lower levels there was never any sign of improvement provided by the Republic, never any sign of care. The Jedi could only do so much, their numbers and ability to influence the government set to naught. She doubted much would have changed under the Sith.

"I knew Coruscant, I knew it very well. It seems like a life time ago now". She said almost as if voicing a thought. "Family can be a strange beast. It can be found in the most unique places, but one thing I do know is that true family does not asked of you to kill", well at least not directly, the way of the galaxy is equally a strange beast.

However, his reaction to her trying to tend to him caught her off guard. Coci pulled her hand back, not that his slap had hurt her, but more that she realised she had encroached on personal space. "My apologies, it is a mother's habit". Coci gave him a slightly sheepish smile. She let her hand drop to her side before climbing into the transport. It only took twenty minutes to arrive in the heart of Voss-ka and those in the transport gathered their belongs to go on their separate journeys in life.

"Now which way do we go?". She asked once standing on the pavement awaiting Boo.

​

[member="Boo Chiyo"]​

 

[Micah tol Powl]

The young Pantoran still had his hands up, wary in case that sleeve came for him again.

As she'd settled back into her seat, Théo's mom said that true family doesn't ask you to kill. That statement caused the boy to cock his head to one side, giving the woman a sidelong glance as though she'd just grown two heads. "Sure they do," the boy countered plainly. "They do it all the time. Even the Jedi. Why do you have Théo on Rhen Var? How else do you think he's going to defend Rhen Var from the... whatever, unless he's prepared to crush your enemies?" Seriously, the whole 'we don't kill mentality' when it came to Jedi was a complete contradiction. "And what about the lightsaber stuff you teach younglings?"

Because unless they were only doing Soresu, that lightsaber wasn't a purely defensive weapon.

As the transport arrived at the space port, the youngling hopped out after Coci. At her question, the boy looked around in thought for a moment. "We should pick up some milk first," the boy offered, in a rather cryptic reply.

He was going to introduce her to Sorcha-Kal, who he'd brought diapers to earlier. Calling on her this late would be an inconvenience, so a gift would be good. And milk was always something parents needed.

[member="Coci Heavenshield"]​