Versai Chronicles - Resurgence - Omega
 

INTRODUCTION

Silence…

That one single word that brings about peace and fear within the hearts and minds of all mankind. Heart pounding suspense coupled with spine tingling anticipation gripped Val as each day seemed to pass on unchecked and unchallenged by the adversaries of the past. There was no trace of Skorne now, no leads to The Killian and yet Val knew better. He had spent the moments of serenity doing things he never imagined he could before. Training his body to the peak of its physical limitations, he challenged Kathryn’s bluff and conquered its heights time and time again. His hours of training in the Powerhouse were beyond measure and yet deep down there lingered that uncertainty of his future and the most effected attribute of his persona as “legendary duelist” weighed heavy on his mind…the decision to relinquish his lightsabers.

Obi Wan’s warning was not taken foolishly. Val had stood face to face with death and once again he defied the dark abyss. He emerged from his coma with Gen Zeridian by his side. Val used his weapons for display purposes only, able to dismiss wielding them in combat by leaning on the fact that he felt he was not yet ready for heavy combat against a living being. This was of course only a half truth for Val was hiding a secret from those he trusts…for what reason is not yet clear but being a man of rationale, he sought the deception a necessity for the time being.

It began with subtle signs. Normal aspects that were once no more then a reflex to him, such as mastery of force based talents were slowly, ever so slow and barely noticed beginning to become more and more challenging tasks. Minor as the changes were to his physicality and mental prowess, Val did detect the rising change in his normal abilities…something was happening and until he was absolutely positive of what exactly it was, those who he trusted, loved, and cherished would be spared worry in the peace that existed.

Meanwhile Gen herself trained just as hard, if not harder then Val to reach the perfection of her fighting prowess. She studied every bit of technical journal and manual she could acquire. During the time that has passed she erected her own “space” of reflection where she would lock herself away and open her mind to the force, to change, to evolution. Times were different now, technology had evolved and Skorne had affected her mentality far more then he could have ever dreamed possible. As powerful and seductive Gen was, she felt herself knocked back down to a student. She reflected on the bitter rise to power within the Shadow Guild and she did not embrace the feeling well. After all, nothing is known of Gen’s family nor her past…all memory was wiped away once she entered the Shadow Guild.

She did decipher that she is not so much “human” as one would think. Her extensive research uncovered that she was part of a race which had grown scarce after the Battle of Yavin. She uncovered the mystery of her individuality. She was Seducyn, a race of mainly females who possessed the power to seduce and mesmerize others with her eyes. The race all featured the same trait…both eyes and hair matched which would explain her purple eyes and violet hair. Save for cloning she had evolved beyond her original species now. With the force enhancements infused in her cloned DNA, she had accelerated healing abilities and lighting quick agility. There was no challenge she could not overcome physically, but mentally she was still tortured by her stalemate against Skorne.

A year had passed. When she wasn’t training, she would spend endless nights with Val, stroking his hair while roaming her fingers along his toned body. She could sense he was troubled, yet she knew Val was a powerful and stubborn individual. She understood even if she used her gifts to weasel the truth from him, it wasn’t necessary. Trust you see was limitless between Val and Gen. Gen trusted her Beloved with endless dedication. She knew that when the time was right, whatever it was that troubled him would be revealed to her.

Meanwhile she reprogrammed the Powerhouse for her own personal use. Deep inside its shifting holographical interface and pre-programmed droids, she had one set of droids custom built from the memories she stored and one location always set into motion…the rooftop of Versai Tech.

Her opponent? Skorne…

Obsessed with finding exactly what went wrong, she studied every scenario she could to find out exactly why this man in tattered Jango Fett armor had managed to contend with her experience. Every time she fought the droids, she destroyed them, each more glorious and vicious then the next. However it was NOT Skorne, no matter how many variations she typed into the programming or what scenario she conjured, it lacked the feral hunter’s specific technicalities.

Arrogant and strategic, to understand her enemy Gen needed to know her enemy. She sent out requests to all of Val’s inside sources to gather data on Skorne, from his first appearance at Adega to her classic confrontation with him at Versai Tech.

She even visited Adega a few times, where Lance and Sara had safely decided to return. The damage done to their bedroom was completely refurbished and the only evidence of the invasion laid nestled within Sara and Lance’s minds. Ah yes, Lance Jade who had suffered his own impact from crossing paths with Skorne was now healed from the injury to his leg. He did however still walk with a cane, to cope with some of the after effects of a fracture while Sara kept careful watch over him. While Val recovered, Lance returned to his position as Vice President of Versai Tech. With Val for the most part, able to contend with the duties of his company, he wasted little time in reclaiming his role as President of Versai Tech, conducting most of his business via holograms from his mansion, through the untraceable UNITRAC network of encryption satellites.

Sara had reflected her brother now, having grown incredibly strong in the force. Thanks to Gen’s guidance she has learned to develop her telepathic and telekinetic abilities beyond those she used against Skorne inside Adega.

She was strong then, she was even stronger now. Lon Wol kept in constant communication with his own love interest Xola. She and he had their own lengthy past that forged their relationship, over years of passion and pain. Still Lon was loyal first and foremost to his Master, although Val would constantly smack Lon in the head and point to Gen, proving his point that training is no substitute for a females embrace. When Val detected that Lon reached another echelon of control with his force abilities, he would reward him with even more bone breaking levels of difficulty.

If Lon really, truly wanted to reach master hood in the Dark Jedi arts, he would have to prove it over a rigorous gambit of tasks. Lon still wasn’t as perfected as Val was at his age, but he was growing exceedingly more proficient with his lightsaber skills as well as his agility. Things Lon thought impossible were now open to him, training side by side with Master Versai.

It was Val who rescued Lon from the darkness within him more then once and their bond of friendship could not be broken, no matter what temptations the dark side would bring. Lon has mastered the one-two TK punch method to shatter the elements of stone, steel, and broken glass. The training abandoned by Foe Raker was reinstated by someone more patient and Lon was eager to learn as much as he could to prove he was worthy of becoming Val’s equal.

Lon’s physique had grown much more defined and his determination sharpened. Val still sensed a great deal of impatience and impulsiveness in Lon’s character. These traits were dangerous, a thirst to attain power bordered on Sith acquisitions but Val knew where to draw the line.

He challenged Lon to lift gigantic rocks, leap several hundred feet in the air, and to fight in a 24 hour trial inside the Powerhouse. Val needed to press Lon to the breaking point…to show Lon where his limits were and to know when to exceed and heed to those limitations. The goal of the sweat broken training was to instruct Lon that even with his power he was far from invincible.
 

Val didn’t believe in a philosophy of all work and no play though. Several weeks into his training, Lon would be surprised to discover Xola ready and waiting in a sheer, form fitting gown that cradled the defined curves of her captivating form and complimented the swelled rise of her breasts. Draped in the finest of shimmersilk, it was Gen who picked out what Xola would wear to achieve the most attention of her mate. Oh yes, Gen knew how to heat a man’s blood through more then the obvious flash of skin. It wasn’t always what you could see that triggered instinct.  Xola would wait in Lon’s quarters, courtesy of Val’s tendency to spring things on his Padawan when he least expected.

Then there is Terra. Months ago she had realized that she was now alone. With the death of her Uncle, Mother, and Grandmother she was the last of the T’Negun bloodline. Amidst the mists of the twin waterfalls behind the Versai Mansion, she stood upon a balcony with the man who killed her mother and took the first step in mending her deep emotional wounds.

Against all odds, Terra did the exact opposite of what her mother would have done. Knowing that it was vengeance that had ended her mother’s life, understanding that it is not the person that kills another human being but the choices made that lead to a person’s destiny, it couldn’t possibly be Val’s fault for wanting to survive. There was no redemption in Crymson’s heart when she went to unleash her final crushing blow to end Val’s life. She didn’t care about her daughter’s well being; she never helped “Maligna” when she fell from the platform within Tabannopolis. All Crymson focused on was creating alliances to gain revenge.

Terra was alone there was no other living T’Negun. She had to come to a decision…she could disappear and wander life on her own or she could settle her anger with Val, the very man who had risked his life to rescue her from her Uncle’s wrath.

She was weaker then…consumed with anger to make Cire pay for deceiving her mother, but all that path led her to was facing death in the eye as that menacing X-Chair unleashed its razor sharp fangs into her body. Cire didn’t care, nor did Vachon whether she lived or died. It was a selfish greed for power that destroyed every member of the T’Negun family and betrayal that fueled it.

Now she had decided it was time to move on and forgive Val for the death of her mother. Terra watched draped in shadows as Val trained Lon, night after night. As she lay in bed she could close her eyes and picture the father she never had…his guidance and instruction. These feelings increased immensely. Terra wanted a father, she wanted to know what it was like to matter to the rest of the world…to have a purpose, to be appreciated and accepted.

One day she was sitting in a tree, watching Val and Lon training from afar, as Lon stood on a set of slippery rocks embedded in a glistening river, while Val watched him from shore. Terra’s mind wandered back to that fictional image of her as a girl, helped to her feet and guided across the stream by a figure. The shadowy man now had a face when he was once a blur…it was Val’s eyes looking to her now. As she relaxed in the tree, she was startled to see Gen’s piercing purple gaze looking up at her. Had she read her mind, did she know Terra’s innermost desires? Would she be angry? Would Terra have to run again?

No…

That welled yearning for female companionship also resided within Gen as surprising as it would seem from her tough, untouchable exterior. Gen looked into Terra’s terrified crimson eyes and smiled softly. Terra felt trapped…scared, sprinting from the tree in embarrassment as Gen followed her. Diving down a series of hallways and into one of the rooms inside the massive mansion, Terra began to cry from the inner turmoil she kept locked away.

It was Gen who paced slowly into the room and set her hand on Terra’s shoulder, wiping away her tears as their eyes crossed. Gen held Terra close, for she was still not quite an adult yet…about 17 to be exact. Her appearances made Terra appear older, but in reality she was younger then she seemed. Those feelings were exposed now and Gen could sense them. Taking her hand, Gen held Terra against her chest, using her left hand to stroke gingerly through Terra’s black hair.

Time passed and the two spoke for hours about her mother, the past, the events in the Killian Citadel, Gen’s relationship with Val and other matters. The one thing that Gen had yet to experience was being a mother. Would she really want to give birth to children? No, not at the moment because Gen also knew things were too quiet and with Skorne and The Killian still lingering somewhere in the galaxy, it was not yet safe to establish a bloodline and she wouldn’t want to be tied down by a baby’s needs. However the idea of adoption was not out of the question especially an older person. At first a year ago Gen would have never even let the idea of the daughter of her most hated rival get anywhere near her but Val had insisted that Terra should not be judged because of her family’s sins. Little by little Gen gave Terra a chance and here, a year later she was embracing, training, and comforting Crymson’s daughter!

Funny how evolution causes those who we think we know everything about to shift into another aspect of their character traits but then again that is the point of evolution, to evolve. Although they had tried to have their first talk awhile back on the balcony, it wasn’t as open as the second. The second time Val spoke to Terra it was no longer just about forgiveness it was about acceptance. The code of training one Padawan at a time did not apply to the Dark Jedi.

Val decided that if Terra really wanted to erase the reputation of her mother and start over fresh, she would have to give him and Gen a level of commitment that could not be broken. Val was a strict member of his household and Gen supported his wishes well. Even though Val had compassion for Terra, there was still a level of caution between them, however after their second conversation no feelings were spared and Val agreed to accept Terra as a Versai and no longer as a T’Negun.

“I want to know everything about you, I want to become part of your legacy, I want to know Val, I want to know the real you.”

These were the words Terra spoke to Val that sunset covered day, words from the heart, in gratitude and in warmest, deepest desire, words that could not deceive. The inner cries of a child’s voice to a mentor, a parent, a guardian…a guide.

From that point on, Val and Gen’s bond grew more powerful then ever as equally they trained Lon and Terra in the Dark Jedi arts. They enjoyed the pleasures of parenthood whilte keeping a close eye over the two and also handling the business end of Versai Tech. It was a wonderful atmosphere in the Versai Mansion with Sacul repaired and helpful as ever, keeping the place tended to and luxurious.

Val abandoned his fear that Obi’s premonition was even accurate, with pretty much a family now and his friends living comfortably, there didn’t seem to be any reason to worry. The nightmares were gone and the flashes of a possible horrific future ended. Still he wasn’t quick to challenge the enduring doubt either. He did allow himself to start to benefit from the peace while he had it and he freely ignited his lightsabers in his training sessions, yet made careful note not to do so when the blades were close enough to cross one another…those words from Obi caused Val to ensure that no such circumstance would be allowed to happen, if he could avoid it and continue to defy that possible destiny. No longer training in solitude nor distancing himself from those around him, Val found comfort in his friends and family, still keeping his growing concerns shielded from detection.

However…

With the blossoming of change, there is also the introduction of conflict. While spending his time inside the Versai Mansion, Val was enraged to discover that way back during the raid on his home, when Sara was allegedly killed, Crymson and her minions did not leave without certain “trophies”. Val’s precious memories were stolen. The Versai Chronicles were gone! If that was not frustrating enough, Val discovered that the sole link to his family, the Versai locket was also taken. They say you never notice something until it has been stolen from you. Neglected on shelves and locked away in cases, the need for balance called out to him.

Val dispatched all of his resources to track down his priceless heirlooms but no one could find where they had vanished after they had come into Quillion’s possession. Added to that frustration, Val still had to contend with Obi Wan’s words night after night…the nightmares returned stronger then ever and he knew danger would once again emerge, there was no environment or dialogue to his vivid imagery but there was a cold dark figure always looking behind veils of swirling smoke, the identity was unknown at the moment but with each nightmare, the blurred image started to come into focus. Just as Val would be able to see any trace of identifiable features, he would wake up.

There again is the dangerous influence of that word….

Silence…

But the silence…was broken.

Where was Skorne, what happened after Jenner’s death? Approximately two days after the start of a new year of tranquility, Lance Jade was horrified as Jenner’s broken, beaten, severed cybernetic body literally fell out of the sky and slammed right into the landing platform of Versai Tech atop the hood of his executive speeder. Lance was astounded that Jenner could even survive the fall from the abandoned hanger bay they had fought in. Lance saw his last blaster bolt pass through Jenner’s head! Yet here it was clear that Jenner managed to survive right under his nose! What was even more disturbing to the Vice President is that if Jenner had survived, it opened up a whole new mystery as to whom or what had left him in his present state, noting the mangled steel and stripped wiring where Jenner’s chest plate once resided. Val was alerted immediately and thus the first spark of action launched a vigorous investigation into the matter.

The resurgence had once again been set into motion and with that motion, the age of peace was over and the war…the final battle with destiny had commenced.

Meanwhile, deep within the obscured regions of space, settled upon a turbulent world of swirling blackened clouds and flashes of lightning, where the rains hammered into the treacherous grounds a new structure, fully completed towered above the fury of the storm. Its design from the exterior wasn’t so much impressive as its interior. Outside the fortress had several jagged edges of twisted metal like daggers pointed to the sky. Its exterior was black as night, but shimmered under the twin moons above. Inside the halls were lit by torches mirroring Cire’s Killian Citadel, but the interiors were far more mechanical and geometrical in design, where pieces of piping and iron beams dug into the ceilings and carved out pathways inside a gigantic mountain upon which this former “Site B” was erected. Inside the halls were serpentine as well, in a metallic skin like crater pattern that covered the walls down corridors that extended into what seemed eternity. Each poured outward into various rooms and kiosks.

The stretch of the serpent skinned interior weaved from horizontal stretches, to spiraling staircases and led from the surface, downward into the bowels of hellfire itself and the one location that was controlled by the master of his Hades environment mingled with fire and steel, where nature met man in a plethora of dazzling light.

This domain was ruled by a similar figure morphed between mechanical and biological fusion. He ruled his new generation of Killian warriors with crystal infused hand, far more disciplined and sophisticated then his emotionally unstable processor. This was Q2’s kingdom now.

He called this province his Killian Bastion and he built his fully completed Throne Room miles under the crust of Borleias. Concealed where molten fire met architectural dominance, Q2 sat upon his dais. The interior of his throne room was menacing in design, with a unique feature…it had no floor. The room had only a series of walkways and revolving platforms, built over a pit of blazon molten gold. The pit cast the six story structure in a eerie yellow-orange halo, while six torches lined a circular formation of the room, placed on the south end of the interior, distanced along the edges of the circular layout, where in the latter, center of the circle was the dual door entrance to the local.

Starting from the door as one would enter, there would either be a platform revolved upon a 360 degree mechanism to greet your approach, or it would swivel and tuck under a half moon platform, denying you access to the middle of the interior, where a massive circular metallic platform, baring a Killian insignia in the middle would lead to another swivel walkway that led to the front of a set of stairs and finally, to Q2’s throne. If you were allowed to get that far, for Q2 was a master of control, and he would just as easily dispatch those who fell out of his favor with a quick force push from the central platform, causing his victim to tumble downward into the pit of molten gold below, a blinding light before the darkness.

From Q2’s vantage point, to the left was a set of cylindrical tubes, filled with liquid and mysterious cargo within, blocked from view by a transparasteel window of swirling foggy dampness that obscured identifying what was inside the three identical tubes, rigged with various wires and controls that regulated the temperature of the device. To the upper left was an object easily recognizable as a communications kiosk, illuminated with blue lights and a perfect reconstruction of the one found inside Palpatine’s Throne Room upon The Second Death Star. Another kiosk mirrored its position on the right. The designs added a touch of nostalgia to the room. Q2 had learned of their history from Skel’s collection. To the right of the throne room chair, also a perfect recreation of Emperor Palpatine’s seat was a holo-projector built into the floor, matching the same design as that placed on the Executor, where Vader sent his transmissions to the Emperor.

Q2 wanted to rebuild and surpass the history of The Empire and particularly Vader and Palpatine. Q2 desired to show that he was the best and most powerful successor of all the former rulers of the galaxy. Even his wardrobe reflected pieces from the Imperial/Rebellion past. His right sleeve was made of the same material as Lord Vader’s signature but Q2 had the material dyed red to show distinction. Q2 also possessed on one hand, a replica of Vader’s black glove, save for a change of added padding to the wrist. His attire was clearly original save for that addition, with a unique cut-away white suit coat that added a touch of class to his wardrobe. Q2 was breaking the mold of the typical villain dressed in black, but there were other methods to his choices then what was shown on the surface.

He shielded his identity with a golden facial mask that cloaked his face from mid-forehead to just under the bridge of his nose, with piercing red eyes. He had a cloth wrapped piece as well that concealed his nose and mouth from view, and led downward along his neck, leaving only his hair exposed. It was medium length, and the bulk of it was secured in the back into a ponytail, while his bangs trailed like coiled serpents along his forehead, with his hair curled up slightly on the sides, giving his silhouette the impression of a demon with horns, striking terror into anyone who evoked his wrath.

Returning to the room, it had three levels. The first was sunk a story down and contained various mechanical devices, computer equipment and other bulky devices with a trapezoid deck design and possessed guard railing upon which red lights affixed to poles lined its edges, giving the floor a red shimmer. The second level was Q2’s throne room, which possessed a trap-door like mechanism that slide open at his command from the controls nestled into the armrest of his chair, leading directly to the pit of gold two stories down below.

The third level was one story above the throne deck, possessing similar aspects of the first desk with the same lights and was organized with mechanical devices as well. Both decks of this trapezoid design had a set of metal stairs built to lead either up to, or down to the main throne room deck, but could only be accessed from the throne room deck as well. The entire north side of the circular environment was only approachable by the solitary sliding walkway from the entrance to the large, central circular platform, ensuring that anyone who was not viewed as favorable enough to enter through the secured passageways on the south side of the room leading to either deck, would have only one way to approach the dais, and that was if Q2 extended the bridge across the bottomless pit below, to the central platform.

All well engineered to give Q2 the maximum amount of control as to who was allowed and who was denied the honor of his presence. The throne room deck was secure from the swirling heat of the fire below by air conditioning units. Two stories up, then another story up was the third deck, and above that was two stories of room where the ceiling was draped in hanging cables and catwalks, but most prominent of the area were three universal energy cages, once used to hold force users in captivity, attached to a pulley mechanism  that slid the three cages back and forth along a cross shaped access of track, stemming from hanging over the central circular platform, to the front of the dais, or slide out to the left and right, leading to a one way plunge into the lake of bullion below. Q2 had used these cages once already for they shimmering with patches of golden residue, resistant to the heat of the gold and it was likely with such careful attention paid to the maintenance of the device that they would come into use again.

As the scene begins to swirl in from above on the solitary throne room dais, there seated within the sloped canopy, lit by cascading rays of light sits the current ruler of The Killian regime. His eyes protected behind the shimmering ruby-onyx lenses embedded within his golden facial mask scans over handwritten text in a dusty brown leather bound book held securely upon his lap. Quillion the Second, or “Q2” as he is referred too ignores everything around him, transfixed on the words inside this very interesting and yet rarely seen edition. Stacked neatly alongside his armrest are the other volumes of Val’s most precious possession…the original and one of a kind, Versai Chronicles.

Thumbing through each page, breathing comfortably through the fabric of his lower facial wrapped appliance, Q2’s body language portrays him absolutely fascinated with the text he’s reading. As the view leads from his black polished boots, trailing skyward to the tresses of his white suit coat, we can see each volume of the Versai Chronicles pass in number from 1 to the unreleased and incomplete edition of “VI”.

Q2 turns a page, leading his view from top to bottom as his fingers trace over the etched recesses of the pen strokes made by Val’s own hand. Having finished the other five volumes during his time of waiting, in the year that has passed Q2 has learned unfathomable amounts of information on Val, Gen, Lance, Sara and other people who have influenced his writing, noticing that most important of all passages were on Cire and Crymson, the last of the T’Negun’s wicked bloodline, save for Terra.

The room is quiet, reflecting the meditative manner in which Q2 studies the book, turning back a few pages and looking over the following excerpt:
 

THE VERSAI CHRONICLES – CHAPTER SIX – ENCOUNTER WITH DARKNESS

“Shortly after I had finished sending Krevlin to his grave…the pain was still there, the hatred didn’t die when his office was destroyed. I could not get the image out of my head, night after night her eyes…her expression, her limp body haunted me.

Gen Zeridian, my most prized possession, my deepest love was lost to me…I was alone, from the moment on into the next day my path was now without direction, without purpose…without a place to call home. Perhaps it was fate that led me to watch the older man, I now know as Obi Wan Kenobi face off against the phantasm that was known as Lord Vader, a high stature warrior with a checkered past and the blood of hundreds upon thousands on his hands. I knew he assisted in the Jedi Purge. I know what he was capable of, so I chose to avoid him…to get away before he discovered the truth.

As written in the second chronicle, I did cross paths with him and manage to escape. However it is now that I feel the whole story must be revealed further. After leaving the Death Star, I headed in a stolen shuttle to a planet off in the far regions of Yavin, there I sought to disappear but destiny did not allow me to escape so easily.

It was then that I felt him…the darkness, the power, the intimidation. Lord Vader’s TIE Advanced ship crashed violently upon the surface of the planet. How I don’t know, why he was led here…I can only speculate that perhaps the guardians of the force were upset with me for disturbing the peace of Obi Wan’s last location, stealing his lightsaber…I feel I must have inherited his curse somehow. His curse with Lord Vader, the connection you see.

Vader recovered well from the wreckage and it was not long before he also sensed my presence on the planet. Trying to escape in my shuttle as he tracked me down, my craft was hurled to the ground by his immense control of the force, shearing off one of the tri-tipped wings with immeasurable skill.

Then it was time to decide who would walk away. He wanted the weapon back…he knew I had it, he sensed the connection. I wanted to live, I had no chance against a butcher of thousands, even with my skills proficient against students in the Dark Jedi Academy. Still conflict ensued, blue white met red vengeance…Vader defeated me as quickly as I had hit the button to ignite Obi’s weapon. Hurled back hard into steel, he approached. I could hear the earth crackle under his footsteps. The sound of twigs snapping like bones.

Fear found me…he fed off that fear and tracked me down, through endless forest. I crossed rivers, I leapt across cliffs, I tried to bury my tracks but as I heeded to catch my breath I would listen and hear it…

Hoooooook puuuuuur, hoooooock, purrrrr.

The immobilizing paralysis of that sound growing louder and louder, Lord Vader was now hunting me down as he had done countless others. He would find me and he would kill me without second thought. Opposing the Jedi I had now shared their fate…but I wasn’t a Jedi, I was something more.

Gen Zeridian taught me to use fear, use the power to my advantage…to above all else, survive. Fight to survive and fight to evolve. I needed her but she was gone. Part of me wanted to let Vader take me; deliver me to the force to reunite with Gen.

But I knew if I did so, I would fail the ultimate test being put before me and ultimately, I would reunite with Gen in eternal shame. No! I was stronger then that…love and survival was stronger then anyone who opposed me.

I could not defeat the Dark Lord of the Sith with a weapon. He tossed me around like a slab of cargo. I needed to focus…needed to block out the terror of his breathing, the crunch of his footsteps. I found the courage and I found the strength in my mind, not in my fists.

I led Vader now, I became the hunter leading the prey…What Vader had in power; I had in mental strength. He would injure me, he would get his chance…but I would not waste the injury, I would cater to his needs and turn them against him. He was machine after all, he was also human…both were vulnerable to one element that I knew well.

Electricity…

If there was one power in the universe that wove through force users and normal people, it was the power of electricity. More dominant then the average human could handle and limitless in the intensity that could be absorbed I led him on…

Salvation? Yes! There before me was an abandoned power station. Here would be the final battle, here is where mental prowess would clash with darkness. I trained that night before, trained hard and focused on my force healing abilities.

The dawn broke. I woke up suddenly to the darkness entering my trap. A series of generators and wires were primed and I set myself in the center of them. Moments passed.

The echo ripped through my ears as Vader closed distance. His attire was torn, a glove missing revealing the glint of his mechanical hand…he was just as rugged as I was now in this abandoned world of nature and darkness. No one was alive but us; it would be the final showdown as to who would walk away and whom would be left lying flat on the ground.

Then I acted, extending the blade to Gen’s lightsaber. The purple glint illuminated where I waited, square in the middle of a plethora of strewn wires and towering generators. Vader wasted no words or any time slashing through the wires, severing through them in showers of sparks, getting closer.

Our blades clashed…I sent a kick to his chest…no effect, backhanded…flying through the air. Again I hit hard into steel but this time, this instant I knew it would be different. I called my lightsaber to my hand, blocking Vader’s downward red blur, clashing purple to red…his polished ruby eyes glaring as he demanded I hand over Obi Wan’s lightsaber.

No, even if I did he would kill me now…he knew I tricked him in the hallway on the Death Star, he wasn’t ruled by reason. Fueled by anger he was relentless. Blow after blow deflected, slamming into my blade so hard I felt as if my wrists would snap from the mechanical might.

Closer, I had to lead him closer. Then I did it, I gave him the window. His lightsaber slashed like ruby fire through my back, not enough to permanently injure but enough to feel the pain and feed from it. Yes…he was mine now, there was no turning back.

Clockwork and mental strength, the burn along my back would mark me forever, but I would live. Grabbing a lever I pulled it as he went on for another slash. Ducking the blade, deflecting with Gen’s saber I stumbled back and crawled through the wires with his pursuit.

Waiting, timing…burned and in agony I focused on the wires behind him…then reached out with the force and yanked the wires with all of my might, all of my will. He was wrapped in seconds by the tendrils of electricity, like leeches and snakes they coiled and bit into his armor.

Flashes of blue-white and mechanized screams of agony and anger…then silence. Vader was down; perhaps out cold…I didn’t wish to find out either, running for miles, days passed, reaching a ship I left the planet. Vader failed to acquire his prize that day, perhaps one of the few who clashed with the unstoppable Dark Lord, I had not come out completely whole but I had lived and he had shown me the encounter with darkness, would be far from settled…”

Q2 grins broadly behind his cloth mask, then closes the book with a loud slap and a swirl of dust. His fingers trailing along his armrest as he sets the volume on top of the other five. With his left hand, he removes an object around his neck. Shimmering with polished gold and baring a large red gemstone in the center of an oval design, it is unmistakable as the Versai Locket once held by Val’s father, passed to Val, stolen by Cire, Stolen by Quillion, possessed by Skel, and now possessed by Q2.

This was Val’s legacy.

There was the key word, “legacy”. Q2 read the books to understand Val’s legacy…a legacy that has spanned years of pain and turmoil and a chain of events that gave Val incredible depth and character. Q2 was jealous as he glared off across the room to a large Killian insignia stretched across the dual doorways into his throne room.

What had Q2 accomplished? What was his legacy? Thus far the extent of his power was being introduced to a clone of Anakin Skywalker and defeating it, facing Jenner and conquering him in seconds. What great legacy was this? What aspect of history record of his accomplishments? To be the sole ruler of the galaxy, to dare say proclaim himself Emperor, he would have to unleash a plague of obscurity that wraps the people of the universe in fear and tremble before his might.

Patience though, yes…patience is what he had endured for the last year, rebuilding his forces, fortifying the Killian Bastion, training and studying his enemy. The cosmos would tremble before him, but before he could accomplish such power, he had to let loose his attack directly against a catalyst that held the galaxy together…and that man was Valaryc Versai.

Considered a legend, owner of Versai Tech the most successful business in the galaxy to date, and quite possibly the richest man in the system, he was the key to Q2’s rise to power. But that was only the dreams of a one dimensional mad man.

Q2 wanted more then power, he wanted control. He wanted to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was more skilled and successful then any other dictator that came before him. Quillion the first, Cire T’Negun was immensely calculative but he was still limited by human emotions. Q2 admired Cire’s efforts but hated his strategy. Why would he bother to build this incredible armada of power and prestige and yet let ONE MAN topple the entire plan? Cire’s endless obsession with possessing Gen Zeridian and forging vengeance against Valaryc was his obvious downfall. Still there was a quality that Q2 admired about Cire…his ability to attack Val mentally, physically, and emotionally.

When Cire disciplined himself to those tactics, he broke Val’s resistance to the darkness within him. Q2 smiled at the thought of that level of control…to systematically dissect a formidable advisory and reduce him to a former shell of a man. This was Q2’s goal now, to achieve what Cire could not.

To unleash the Jedi Slayer…

Cire had merely scratched the surface of exposing Val’s full potential as a fighter. The heroics disgusted Q2, he knew he could crush a hero in seconds; he already did so in the villages. Q2 lusted for a real challenge, a authentic opponent who could grant him a fight that really could quite possibly kill him. These opponents Q2 battled currently were nothing but toy soldiers, their lives meaningless and their abilities child’s play. The list of drones he had broken, clones he had dispatched, droids he had destroyed, and innocent lives he had taken were in the hundreds.

For sport Q2 disguised himself as a lowly traveler and roamed city after city on various planets, only to butcher each member of the community as practice of his abilities. With a wave of his hand and the power of the kaiburr crystal shard, he could level cities but this all bored him.

After these events, he was empty and jaded with his power inside the Citadel. Now enter his obsession for sport, for a game and it’s perfectly clear why Q2 is studying the Versai Chronicles in such detail. Not only is Val the catalyst for his rise to legendary status but Val is the new obsession, the new game to win and the new direction to focus upon.

Q2 had discovered his ambition and with limitless authority at his command, he was at last ready to let forth his tyranny upon Val and his acquaintances. The plan was formulated and the pieces were about to fall into place.

Just then as Q2 gazes across to a sound to his left, Skel enters through a narrowed vertical sliding stone door. His reptilian form slithers along the smooth, deep blue metal floor as he stops and faces Q2, settling to both his knees, while his one hand comes across his belly in respect, nodding his head.

Q2 looks over Skel a moment, shifting his right, black gloved hand in a gesture for Skel to rise as he rests his head against the flat of his glove, settling his elbow on the armrest of the throne, breathing behind his mechanical voice masking device which gives his words a echo like Vader’s but less intense.

SKEL – (returning to his feet) Massster Q2, construction on your flagship Reignfire is complete and the new enginesss are installed as requested.

Q2 nods slowly to Skel and looks back towards the Killian insignia as Skel takes notice that something is indeed deep on Q2’s mind. Having guided Q2 like a father, Skel was responsible for everything that Q2 had attained and both respected each other well. Unlike the insecurity of Jenner, Q2 highly admired and graciously thanked Skel in secret, outside of the presence of the other members. There friendship was an unspoken one in public, but there was no deception between the two for Skel blindly followed Q2’s order without question.

SKEL – (concerned) Is something wrong Master? Something troubling yesss…know that expression in your posture I do well.

Q2 languidly nods to Skel and gestures towards the stack of books alongside the throne.

Q2 – (mechanical) This man…Valaryc Winters Versai. I respect him and I despise him. The mark he has left on history has granted him immortality, while my name appears no where.

SKEL – Understand, yesss but patient you have been great leader. Rebuilt what Quillion the first had squandered you have. Follow you your minionsss will. Under your orders we wait. Legacy you will carve Master. Powerful you have become and focusssed you have grown. Ambition you have discovered but action is what you lack.

Q2 – Agreed…Action must be taken. I’ve studied my opponent. Cire knew Versai but he failed to understand him, what drives this man to defeat his adversaries time and time again? What element does he possess that others do not? I need to discover what holds his darkness at bay.

Q2 stands from his throne and starts to pace along the dais, lifting his hands upward with palms presented, swirling along the floor, gesturing to the entire room as he speaks. Only in the presence of Skel and far away from prying eyes did Q2 show any hint of emotion, much less use more words then what were necessary to express himself. Such limited use of calculated gestures and syllables were another level of his obsession with control. With no need to control Skel, he had no reason to limit his actions.

Q2 – Versai has such potential! He could have all of this and more…why does he resist? Why does he deny his prospective as the Jedi Slayer? I must know this answer Skel…I must learn what power he has and TAKE IT, adapt it, and use it to conquer the galaxy and capture history in my gloved hand.

SKEL – The woman is his weakness, defend her to the death he will. Powerful emotion is love. Use this to your advantage you must.

Q2 – Zeridian? That is far too obvious. She is his weakness but it must go deeper then attacking his mate. Cire used a clone of Gen to break Val and he failed. Versai must be made to suffer from multiple angles. I must look beyond the surface to break him. Aggression against his mate is not enough to penetrate his defenses mechanisms.

Skel grins widely, exposing his razor sharp teeth as the “tongues” from his nostrils swirl around devilishly. Walking up alongside Q2 as he takes his seat by the throne again, he sets his one good hand on the left shoulder of Q2 speaking into his ear.

SKEL – I have guided you to greatnesss Master Q2 but do not underestimate the power of love. Lessons I have and books you read have nothing more to teach you. Learn to conquer will you by books? No, books not teach you what experience creates for you. Trapped you are in your ambitionsss but potential you have gained. Time to act it issss, allies you must possess then and only then will Versai fall and you prevail.

Q2 looks forward then shifts his head towards Skel nodding in agreement as he adjusts his attire, flexing his Vaderish glove into a tight fist. His body language shows an eagerness to act, the goals and ambitions clear as day and the time to react at hand.

Q2– (focused) Go, prepare my ship. My use for your counsel is concluded.

Skel swiftly complies and disappears as quickly as he had arrived. Q2 taps a few buttons in the armrest of his throne and turns to the left, transfixing his eyes on a circular displacement in the floor where a holo projector is positioned, waiting for the signal to reach its destination on a coded frequency.

Moments later, a holographic projection of a woman with platinum hair appears, glaring towards Q2 with blood red eyes, clasping her fingers palms together where her fingers touch. Each hand has a special glove that exposes her fingers but oddly enough her thumb, middle, and pinky fingers are covered by a red glove on her right and a black glove on her left. Each glove leads back to a serpentine set of wrist gauntlets with a central, raised red rubberized piping and round scaled like the belly of a dragon that wrap horizontally around her wrists. The ends of the coverings come to an elongated pentagon shape that led off to shield her elbows, with the same red trim surrounding it. Along the bottom of her gloved armbands, the red pipe ran down the center and met at the end of her forearm, in an upside down “U” shape with the tips of the outer edges of the “U” extended outward and around to form a circle and complete the shape of the covering of her arms. Along her neck, the same red belly-scale dragon like pattern traveled down to the cleavage of her covered breasts, where the piping formed an “M” shape, with the bottom extensions of the “M” leading down to her waist. There between the spaces of the M was the familiar pattern of Vader’s black body glove material, which also covered most of her legs as well. The red pipe pattern covered around the regions of her outer hips then continued in the design of her duotone red boots. Wrapped around her neck she had a elegant black cloak, attached by a customized clasp that looked like a upside down dagger with a triangular tip with a hole, leading down into a infinity symbol where both ends of the cloak were secured, spilling downward into a arrowhead design with beveled edges of the “dagger” resting along her chest.

Q2 looked at the woman through his polarized red lenses and delayed his speech, keeping this curvaceous figure in suspense while she looked back, running her tongue along her red lips a moment, smacking them together also seeming to find words to say, but keeping her eyes narrowed, retaining her very commanding presence, although one hint of sensuality slipping through as she watched with her legs crossed, and turned three quarters on her own throne room chair.

Q2 – Elixis Kel, “former” leader of the Shadow Guild miraculously lounging about before me, I have studied you…intimately. Your ruthless aggression is admirable. I wish to attain it.

ELIXIS – (growling) Your point?

Q2 –  My point, self proclaimed “Dark Lady of The Sith” is that I proposition an alliance between your New Sith Order and The Killian. You would be wise to accept my proposal.

Elixis runs a finger along her chin as she looks downward, now leaving Q2 in the suspense of a lack of words before sharply glaring back to the monitor.

ELIXIS – Is that a threat?

Q2 – I wasn’t aware I was so transparent.

ELIXIS – Do you honestly think that I would have any interest in following the bastard successor to a homicidal idiot? Cire was a jealousy driven lunatic that got what he deserved. You have taken the name Quillion II have you not? The only thing a kid like you has inherited is his blindsided ignorance.

Q2 – (ponders this a moment) You wish to speak of ignorance? I know of the Shadow Guild and the power you ONCE possessed. I wager it burns you day after day knowing that the only thing you have attained currently is a crumbling empire.

ELIXIS – Stand in the same room and I will show you…burned.

Q2 – Now whom is making the threats Miss Kel?

ELIXIS – (grins) Takes one to know one doesn’t it your Lordship? Look around your very EMPTY Throne Room and see the reflection of your accomplishments. You are nothing, you have nothing and you possess nothing to offer The Sith.

Q2 stirs in his chair ever so slightly, extending his fingers forward as he begins to close them into a tight circle. Elixis feels her throat starting to collapse under the strain…miles away, perhaps even thousands of miles away Q2 was effecting her physically. Had he been in the same room, it would have been a different story but Elixis was under his influence for the moment.

ELIXIS – (gasping) But…how can…..you?

Q2 – (focused) Do not underestimate the depths of my generosity. I know of your pathetic Sith Empire and its fragility. You live because I allow it. You WILL drop this evasive attitude and pay proper respect to your superior.

Elixis growls loudly under her breath, desperately trying to breathe as she focuses the dark side to lessen the intensity of the hold. Oh if Q2 was only in the same location, she would have him kneeling before her kissing her shiny red boots…then the idea sparked. Shifting her motives, Elixis nodded slowly in compliance to Q2’s wishes. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to control others to get what they wanted for Elixis was an absolute master of seduction in all its forms. Control and necessity was well known to her ambitions. She had single handedly rebuilt The Sith from the ground up. Elixis was dead but she was not forgotten years ago and through her own desire to return from the ashes like a phoenix, she found a way to revisit the world of the living by possessing the body of another.

Silence passed between the two as Q2’s grip over Elixis faded. He could sense she was not to be trusted but he had an agenda to meet.

Q2 – Very good Miss Kel. Now that you have grown more…open to negotiation, I shall expand this conversation further

ELIXIS – (nodding slowly) You have my attention now, forgive my insolence.

Q2 adjusts his uniform and brushes off some flecks of dust as he recomposes himself in his chair before continuing, flicking a few strands of his brown hair back from the gleam of his facial appliance.

Q2 – You will have other opportunities to serve me, for now I wish to discuss our alliance.

ELIXIS – It would be wise to discuss this matter in person, as it would prove more useful to both our needs would it not?

Q2 – Indeed…I have invested interest in meeting you face to face. You will make preparation for my arrival in two hours time.

Elixis thought to herself, how this insolent fool dare order her to follow his wishes. Elixis absolutely hated being ordered to do anything; this is why she took over the Shadow Guild. She was born a leader, not a follower and yet this second rate spawn of The Killian was practically demanding her to sit up and beg for supper. Still, Elixis had a method to her compliance. Did she respect Q2? Of course not, she wanted to tear his heart out but he was far too out of reach to do anything substantial. She would gladly allow her prey to waltz into the widow’s web. Once he was on her grounds, things would be different.

Q2 was already wise to her plan though as both tried to manipulate the other. He was perfectly aware that Elixis intended on leading him into a trap but the woman had no clue what kind of power he possessed and he sought himself another game to play in the meantime. Instinct was human and Q2 was still human, that clash with the opposite sex opened up a new door of curiosity and Q2 made it his goal in the meantime to see just how long it would take him to conquer her.

Elixis was once again left in suspense as Q2 pondered the possibilities in his chair. With an abrupt clearing of her throat, Q2 was snapped back into reality, returning his focus to the platinum haired vixen. Already he was growing more and more infatuated by her. He hadn’t noticed the significance of her costume before but now it became clearer to him as he ran his fingers along the Vaderish material of his right arm, that matched Elixis’s attire save for Q2’s was dyed red to stand out.

ELIXIS – I will await your arrival Quillion the Second.

Q2 nodded slowly and gestured with his hand, ending the transmission. He smiled wickedly with an inner sadistic joy. This was setting the plan into action now wasn’t it? It was exciting…no it was enthralling, this moment of action. No longer was his day boring. Q2 had two agendas to attend to.

With a flick of his wrist, he spoke into the comlink alongside his throne.

Q2 – (comlink) Skel, I have business on Eol Sha with Miss Kel. I do not wish to be delayed further.

Skel on the other end was already layers above where Q2 was transmitting, in a large cavern of rock and etched metal with that same serpent like metallic skin wrapping the walls, looking out through a hexagonal window to a massive hanger bay where Q2’s ship, Reignfire was being prepared for launch. For the moment the angular vessel was concealed in darkness, save for a few lights in the ground revealing shimmering black plates of armor, and jagged extensions of machinery.

Skel spoke into the comlink and in his smooth voiced hissed back his reply.

SKEL – Massster, the ship is ready for launch…all isss in order for your journey.

Q2 – Excellent, I shall arrive momentarily.

With a quick brush of his fingers, Q2 shut off the comlink and stood from his throne. He gazed out to the monstrosity of metal catwalks, hanging cages, and docked platforms, walking to the edge of the second deck, gazing downward into the swirling pit of molten gold two stories below, basking in the heat rippling upward where the blue light of his deck illuminated his white attire but let the golden light of the pool below wash his face in a menacing sheen of golden radiance.

His thoughts roamed a moment, picturing the scenes so explicitly written in the Versai Chronicles, then flickering to images of Elixis’s penetrative red eyes and dazzling platinum hair. His lips pursing into a smirk of pleasure thinking over the things he intended to do and what adventure he would face bending Elixis to his will and twisting Val into the Jedi Slayer, where at last Q2 would prove he was the superior fighter worthy of being called a “legend”.

His lightsaber or rather his heatsaber was hung along his belt, nothing too fancy just a regular brown leather style with a large metallic red Killian insignia for the buckle, grazed the white surface of his suit pants. His fingers closed in two fists as he lifted them close to his face, flexing his fingers a bit, tensing his muscles, pulling up his gloves to make sure they are taut and secure, spinning back on his heel heading towards the exit to the room, via a secret panel to the right.

Before he leaves he gazes back into the throne room once more, looking skyward to the series of universal energy cages above and smiles confidently.

Q2 – So then Versai…the end of all things has begun, let the game begin.
 

INTERIOR: THE FIREHOUSE – VERSAI MANSION

While Q2 heads for his ship, elsewhere we return to the lush surroundings of elegant flowing plant life, towering waterfalls and nestled upon a plateau, the shimmering splendor of the Versai Mansion. The exterior of the mansion has changed very little, unveiled stunning as ever in its mostly ivory pearly white tones accented by areas of the signature “Versai Gold” running along the banisters of two spiral staircases and adorning the massive double doors of its entrance, leading to the fully restored and lavishly decorated foyer.

However, passing beyond the splendor and grace of the upper floors, the picture begins to grow considerably darker, where nature starts to recede and technology, specifically forged metal fills the view, running down angular corridors, passed coupled wires and grooved metallic panels, heading to the entrance of the infamous “Firehouse”. This underground well of armaments is the source of Val’s fabulous weaponry and innovative cutting edge designed equipment. From his elegant and deadly Deacon flechette pistols, to his custom body armor prototypes, glistening in red and gold. One set in particular looks very well-known as we brush passed Val’s classic gold and red armor he wore when he ventured into Mos Espa to meet with Malcolm. However this is not the focus of the venture here, as another set of doorways passes beyond a hexagonal set of dual entries and spills outward into the depths of the Firehouse power center itself. Vastly expanded from the time Val was last here, arming to wage a one man war against Cire over the alleged death of his sister, now the interior was purely filled with machinery and development equipment of various shapes and sizes. Entering from the front, let us say looking north there was housed the most expensive paraphernalia money could by. Two laser guided lathe machines were housed in the very center of the room. Running along the left and right, the wall was curved, leading into a normal box formation, where the upper left and right met with straight walls, sectioning into the main forward wall where the lathe machines were joined by a cooling water unit, several scanners, analyzers, electroplating machines and other gear we can’t exactly identify, but are valuable tools in Val’s necessity to remain prepared for the future.

Along the floor, besides the still present, but for the moment retracted six square shelves, was a newly added flooring pattern with the Versai Crest “V” in the center. Lines continued from the angles of the shape, leading to several sectioned panels along the floor, all brushed steel. Alongside the walls were several concealed lighting fixtures that illuminated from behind “wells”, casting their light upward, shining and enhanced by the shimmer of the metal surfaces, evenly spaced within columns that separated each set of hidden panels holding various weaponry upon mechanisms that slid forward at the touch of a button, presenting whatever was contained in cases, a forty-five degree angles to the viewer, behind transparasteel.

With all of the impressive detail, a king’s ransom in equipment was housed here and greatly protected, but our focus seems to become transfixed on a series of flashes coming from a large, rectangular machine in the very center of the furthest wall, where a figure works endlessly on a necessary addition.

Here, we can see that Valaryc Versai is toiling endlessly on some fresh addition to his arsenal, as white hot sparks flash like lightning off the polished black lens of his protective head gear. LCD screens inside the mask give an infrared display while Val leans over a set of controls, gazing into a long rectangular transparasteel window, magnifying his views in and out as his bare fingers control a set of joystick like devices, his fingers hitting a few buttons as the light changes direction inside the chamber.

What Val sees through his mask are several laser beams moving very slow and precise along a solid, elongated bar of metal inside the chamber of what we can identify as a high end metal lathing device. Constructed by Versai Tech, the machinery itself can only be owned by the most elite of machinist. The value with this particular Versai Tech exclusive equipment lies in its polarized Corusca gem focusing crystals which harness the energy gathered by power generators into beams of light, similar to the way lightsabers work, but a thinner beam, about 5/16ths in diameter, precise and accurate up to a millimeter’s distance and the only substance in the galaxy that can carve the precious metal within…

Lumatanium.

Over the year that has passed, Val has had many additions placed within the Versai Mansion. From ordering several training droids and having the most up to date software and hardware installed in the Powerhouse, to several bars of the precious and rare Lumatanium stacked like gold ingots by his feet…he was swift in protecting his possessions and his family and friends from suffering the effects of the past. First and foremost, Val had several planetary turbolaser and ion cannon turrets constructed all around the mansion as well as several more concealed weapons kiosks and planetary shield generators built to fully fortify his property from being invaded again. There were no chances taken now, he made sure that there would be no possibly of another incursion by The Killian or anyone else.

Looking through the protective glass shielding of the massive metal lathing apparatus, we can see there are already several details sculpted under Val’s joystick control taking shape through the reddish-orange luster of a block of Lumatanium, held by a customized series of magnetic fields. Fields which literally hovered the bar into mid air allowing maximum movement where there was no angle the Curusca lasers could not shear into the surface of the material. Like an artist carving into plaster or stone, so was the process of whatever Val was creating.

With each breath and unshakable patience, another line was etched into the steel surface of the block. Already the right end of the roughly 36 inch bar was cylindrical, resembling that of a lightsaber hilt but containing far more detail and a important difference, a sword guard oval with slanted angle all smoothed resembling horns leading to a flat surface. Extending down from the guard, which swept into a “U” was a pattern lathed into a tube, with a technical pattern of ovals and lines, varying from black to a flat silver finish. Cut out, running along the left side, an elongated “C” pattern swept to the middle of the handle, where the black lathed cylinders ran down the length of the hilt. Moving down to just below the center of the handle design was a perfect duplicate of the midsection found on Gen’s second lightsaber, a series of elliptical cuts inside a drum of black steel, where bands of metal rested behind this grate design, although only simulated as this weapon was carved out of the block of Lumatanium by the lasers.

Under the mid grate was a reproduction of the banding found below the emitter of Gen’s lightsaber and beneath that, where the metal sunk in then protruded back out in black was a reproduction of the pattern on Lon’s lightsaber, where a ring of silver wrapped around the hilt, with three small ovals carved in the center and two dots. Another smaller indentation, identical to the one before the band is where another extension of Gen’s saber rim was created, leading finally to the very end of the hilt in a pattern of two half moons on the left and right, where numerous bars of metal connected the two, tapering along the left and right into a narrowed “C” pattern as the end of the hilt was reached.

Now was the most difficult of tasks, forging the blade to the sword from the block. Here is where Val was having the most difficulty. He could have the machine do it by setting the controls to automatic and type in the dimensions of the blade, but Val was stubborn and difficult. He wanted to achieve this on his own. If he could not build a weapon by his own hand, like say his lightsabers they would no longer become a part of him. He always felt his weapons were an extension of himself and to lose one would be to lose a part of him as well…this was a trait inherited by his training with Gen in the Dark Jedi Academy. Cire knew this well, he couldn’t bear to face the humiliation of losing his lightsaber in the forest upon the fateful night when he blackmailed Val into dueling for possession of the Versai locket.

However, not all weapons are literally lost by destruction. Val was feeling the anxiety of possessing his weapons near, yet was forced to limit their potential. This birthed the idea of the sword…a weapon that was not a lightsaber and therefore could not bring Obi Wan’s prediction to pass. Val’s eyes focused on each ray of light as he guided them with the joysticks down, one on the top, one on the bottom carving the blade thickness in layers as they carved metal threadings, dropping to a depository at the bottom of the encased chamber where a negative polarity caused the metal to magnetize to the bottom of the case while leaving the engraved hilt in place. By tapping a few buttons, Val could rotate the cylindrical block on its axis, so that when a laser was set to lathe across the ingot, it could produce an even cut thickness 360 degrees and keep the hilt in pristine condition, without cutting all the way through the material.

Val was clad in all black for the moment, nothing very extravagant. He was dressed to work on the project in a long sleeved turtleneck and matching black pants, with ribbing along the sides and the signature red padding of his normal battle attire. Wrapped around his legs were his trademark black knee high boots where the Versai Crest was set into the top, leather sheared away where the points of the V met, leading the normally cut off angles of the V to extend around in a ring encompassing the top of his boots, instead of just having the crest embedded into the material within his previous designs. The ring was no longer around the double V’s but was set horizontally encircling his boot tops. Thoughts passed through his mind as he stared into the flashing blues, reds, and whites of the carving lasers.

His mind drifted back into the Dreamscape and his conversation with Obi Wan, who had not shown up in his dreams for quite awhile and yet Val was still unsure of the authenticity of his words…

“If your blade crosses with another, you will set into motion a course of actions that will consume everything you cherish.”

Each time he heard those words cycling through his head, Val would feel a tinge of anger sweep through him. He was reduced to limiting how he wielded his lightsabers. Even timid to turn them on at all, Val didn’t want the others to know of the prophecy. He cleverly managed up to this point to mask his concern by igniting and instructing Terra and Lon with his weapon against non living objects or at points where he could practice moves with the humming blades but never run the risk of crossing them with another. He refused to ignite two lightsabers at the same time for fear of accidentally crossing them. Val knew even though he defied destiny that with Gen along side him, he had too much to lose. Then there was Terra. Cast out and driven to the brink of death by Cire, she had no one to rely on. Forgiven for the death of her mother, Val decided to adopt her and accept Gen’s proposal as strange as it was to hear at first. Val had assumed Gen would never allow something to tie her down. Times were different now though, peace was for the most part still attainable, despite the revelation of Jenner coming to power under his new cybernetic enhancements then mysteriously it would appear, overthrown.

Val really didn’t care though, good riddance to the son of a gundark for sending Skorne to not only attempt to assassinate him in his sleep but harass his girlfriend as well. Ah yes…the other piece of the puzzle that was not yet clear. Who was Skorne and what did he have against Val? Was Skorne some disgruntle worker at Versai Tech? Was he an outcast from the Imperial Academy? Was it a former student at the Dark Jedi Academy? What was his place in all of this? Time would obviously reveal his secret, for it revealed that Cire had in fact lived and taken a new name to attain his supremacy. Val was more concerned with the absence of both Skorne and The Killian more so.

He knew that some where out there in the galaxy, there was yet to be closure. That bothered Val most of all because as long as maniacs like Skorne and The Killian were unaccounted for, they would remain a threat to him and all he cherished. Val’s eyes closed, and then reopened as he cleared his roaming thoughts, glaring to the last couple cuts needed to complete his weapon.

Slowly, as slow as a whisper of wind through a still pond, his hand jerked unconsciously. The slight twinge in movement forced the lasers to go off their mark and slice clean through the thin thickness of the sword, felling the potential blade, ruining the balance of the weapon…hours of work, lost as the weapon became nothing more then another paperweight.

VAL – UGH! FOR QUI’S SAKE NOT AGAIN!

Growling, Val quickly springs from the control panels and slams his fist into a wall, leaving a very deep dent in the surface. Screaming in frustration, Val smashes his other hand to a button as the wrecked pieces of Lumatanium eject from the chamber, gathering with a loud series of CLANGS into other failed works. This makes it apparent that this last attempt was only one of six other imperfect blocks of metal, discarded for various mistakes in craftsmanship. Val lifted the visor to the mask and looked downward.

“I foresee the moment you cross your blade, will be the instant where there will be no turning back from the darkness inside you. People you cherish will become lost, people you love…will suffer.”

The words echoed in Val’s head. Counting to ten, he takes a deep breath looking down to the four bars of Lumatanium, 36 inches long resting by his feet. This metal wasn’t cheap by any means and was the only known metal in this day and age that possessed the endurance of the material found in Sith Swords. It was able to block lightsaber blades and energy weapons with ease yet was razor sharp enough to slice through the hull of a Star Destroyer if need be and the underside of an AT-AT like a knife through butter. The secret was a highly reflective surface, mirror polished to deflect light once a desired shape was attained, in this case the blade itself. If the blade could not be made from one block of Lumatanium, it was useless to Val. He wanted the entire weapon made from one piece of the steel, as to add the maximum amount of durability and balance.

Val stared down at his hand focusing on the force. It was there, but the connection was latent…try as he might, his hand continued to shake against his will. What was happening? Val swallowed a moment and attempted to maintain his concentration. Over this last year he had noticed the little signs that Obi’s words were beginning to take shape…that once he entered back into the world of the living, he wouldn’t be able to be the same man he was when he entered the Dreamscape, both mentally and now it would appear…physically.

Val could still command the force at his whim, but the effort it took to concentrate was growing more and more difficult, although in small doses, a deficiency was still a concern. Closing his eyes and stepping back from the machinery, Val rested one hand on the wall and stared down to the metal tiles in the floor, taking deep breaths to clear his concentration and regulate his blood flow. His brown eyes were robbed of that carefree luster they once contained and he had a rougher, unshaven look along his face. Lines started to reveal his age as they cut into his facial regions. Worry was there, a disturbed, growing concern could be detected within his lowered gaze as he looked to the floor, blinking slow to wash away the swirl of thoughts literally flashing through his head. Thoughts of being in that vicious chair, feeling each slice of the blades lacerate his skin over and over, seconds between…coursing energy frying him alive with tendrils of electric fury and forbidden to rest…Cire’s vicious torture was shared to a lesser extent by Terra who endured but a few minutes while Val was forced to suffer hours of endless torment.

Then there was Gen. Sweet, beautiful, voluptuous Gen. Streaks of purple and pink caressing his bare shoulders while her stunning violet eyes met his, washed in love and the purest dedication. She would do anything for him and he crossed through the fury of Korriban to wait for her return. Through the power of the force, Gen had transcended death and returned to him at the age of 25 while he was pushing 46. A large age difference was between them now, but that didn’t matter. Was it age that was causing Val to lose touch with his force mastery? Impossible, Yoda was 900 and Qui Gon was still in his 60s when he used the force with little effort…there was something more to this series of mysteries that he knew he had to solve for it would very soon become a race against time.

Again he looked at his hand, holding his other over it as the trembles began to cease under his command…the force staggered, but assisting his needs. Running a finger through his medium length brown hair cascading longer along his neck it was nearly down to his shoulders. Val looked down to a slab of Lumatanium and picked it up. Opening the entrance to the chamber, Val ejected the flecks of metal from his last attempt and placed in a fresh bar, closing the lid, then returned his grip to the joystick controls.

Once more, as minutes passed he had regained his focus on the bar, letting the lasers cleave into the surface at a faster rate then before. His thoughts locked on to images of Lon and he training in the forest, Gen embracing him in their bedroom as he gazed out to a turbulent violet thunderstorm as the lightning flashed, and to he and Terra talking for the second time on the terrace, where Val stood with his legs slighting parted, hands behind his back facing a sunset as she approached. The images flickered back to the look in Cire’s eyes before Val slammed in his last cryoban grenade…sweet justice, ending the war with him once and for all as Cire flash froze then shattered into the extinguished flame pit.

With uncanny speed he was returned to his level of perfection, whipping the roughly 12 separate laser beams into the spinning block of metal. His eyes watched every lathe, every fleck of shimmering silver spiral off into the collection grid below. In little time he had caught back up to the detail of his last attempt, strand for strand, etch for etch in perfect duplication.

This time as he guided the last of the process to completion, shearing off layers of material to forge the blade to his weapon, his hands didn’t twitch and he reached the pivotal moment of the very last cut. With a brush of his wrist, a smile spread across Val’s lips. He was doing this for all of the people in his thoughts, to find a way to cheat Obi Wan’s prophecy and keep his ambitious combat skills razor sharp.

“What I’m going to reveal to you, you are not going to like, but if you wish to change where your destiny is leading you, you must accept and abide by my warning given to you.”

Val shrugged away the words haunting him. At last the still white-hot the sword was complete. Tapping a few buttons, the carved masterpiece was guided towards a opening door to the left, still guided along the horizontal axis as two heat-resistant claws grasped the front and back end of the sword, sliding downward into a vat of water, with a electronic whine of hydraulics drowned out by the hissing scream of steam, where the heat of the blazing metal was washed away by the overpowering coolness of the water which also was ionized to remove all the impurities of the Lumatanium. Although the weapon was still raw, the claws then lifted the cooled length into another series of windows. Val rolled along in his chair, to watch the progress.

Entering another series of windows, the talons set the masterpiece into a vertical set of holding mechanisms which spun the weapon upward, where smaller lasers passed over the metallic sculpture and cleared away flash and smoothed out the rough edges from the carving lasers. They passed the sword upward again into another set of holding units that finalized the Lumatanium process as the sword entered an illuminated chamber where it was securely held horizontally then buffed to a mirror polish shine, sealing the endurance and beauty of the Lumatanium.  The prized material had metamorphosed from its dull block, to a shimmering carved tour de force of metallic excellence. Lathed, cooled, buffed, and now adonzied with layers of black trimmings the sword was fully completed and honed to its razor sharp potential as Val waited anxiously to test his new prized possession.

After a few moments, all of the remaining residues of the inner workings of the machine were cleansed. Excited, Val touched the final series of buttons, where the sword was pushed out of the apparatus, handle first. He quickly grabbed the hilt and withdrew the weapon with a ring of metallic acoustics.

Shortly after, another tink dropped the matching sheath to the sword in a deposit box, vertically at the lower right of the massive machine. Val studied every mark and region of his crafted sword. Each line was purposely placed into the handle as he stepped into the center of the room, starting to whirl the blade through the air, slow at first, spinning his wrist as the sword whipped the air along his left and right, revolving the handle in his hand with the force guiding his movements.

It was indeed beautiful and the seventh attempt to create life from the inanimate material. The weapon was created by Val and as such the sword knew its master. It was duty bound to protect and submit to the guidance of its maker. Val moved a few steps, then began to hurl the blade into the air with graceful perfection, spinning 360, 180, practicing various form V saber techniques, although now with a little more weight as this was not a lightsaber blade which contained no mass.

VAL – (to the sword) I am your maker, from this day forth you will be responsible for my destiny…I have given you life, so now are you bound to repay that debt. Serve me well.

Obi Wan’s words continued to surface in Val’s mind as he heard his voice continue to torment him.

“You must accept and abide by my warning given to you.”

VAL – (speaking to himself) I AM DAMN IT! CAN’T YOU SEE THAT???

Oh yes, it was perfect no doubt…although nothing could replace the power of his lightsabers, Val was pleased with his creation and he gazed towards a few steel training towers. With a flash of silver and the glint of steel, he passed the blade through the first of the solid steel structures. Seconds later, the metal slid along at a forty-five degree angle and toppled to the floor, where a micro-thin sliver revealed itself.

Another flash and flicker and the other tower crumbled, while the last was not as simple as the first, sliding in sections opposite to each other, falling like a stack of checkers. Val sliced through the steel like paper, creating discs of cleaved metal, sent spiraling to the floor. His sword showed no sign of dullness from his efforts, proving the resilience of the metal.

Just then Val detects the sound of a sarcastic clap, snapping his gaze to Terra his adopted daughter gazing back to him with her crimson orbs, a smirk played upon her red lips. She must have slipped in when he had his eyes closed for he didn’t sense her enter the room. She must also have heard him talking to the sword as well, which would at first glance appear silly. There was a method to his madness though. Once again it was true that a master created the weapon and the weapon was duty bound to protect its maker, whether you believed that inanimate objects possessed a consciousness or not, call it religion or faith…great things have blossomed from the respect between an instrument and its wielder.

Terra was dressed in her shimmering brown cat suit. It was identical to the design that Corrie had borrowed to battle her father Kor but now a deeper shade of blackish-brown and possessed the same ability to absorb blaster bolts. She had a quiver slung over her left shoulder which housed her signature metal javelins. Apparently from her attire, she must have finished her training session with Gen out in the courtyard and had wandered down to the Firehouse in search of her father.

Val trained his eyes on her a moment, flashing an identical image of Crymson over her that quickly faded away as he thought of the words to say to explain his actions at present. He knew that she trusted his judgment, but being a teacher now, Val sought it a good time to explain the principle of maker and weapon to his aspiring student.

TERRA – (smiles) That’s a pretty big toothpick you got there, fancy too. Lemme guess, you have a Rancor somewhere in need of an oral cleaning?

VAL – (grins) Hah hah, I wonder where you get your sarcasm from. (winking)

Terra smiles warmly then rushes up and hugs Val tightly as he wraps his arms around her keeping his sword held blade down in his left hand while resting his right around her back. He detects her breath brush along his shoulder as she was shorter then he was. Feelings of warmth spread through him like wildfire, embracing the daughter he had never had, savoring the moment before knowing that he would have to detach himself from parent and slip into the role of instructor.

TERRA – I missed you Master, it’s been a very long day training with Mother in the Courtyard, all these meditation and agility tests, jumping off walls, leaping over rocks, climbing up trees and such. When am I going to get some time for target practice!

VAL – (looks stern, playfully) I told you call me Val, Dad or Father now; Master is when you’re in class.

Terra pushed Val back playfully and reached into her quiver, drawing out one of her custom lathed cylindrical javelins with several lathed rings in the shaft, of course created specifically for her by Val with his equipment, letting a swirl of the Versai gold elegantly run down the length of the shafts.

TERRA – Ok Father Val, I’m a good shot you know, I could nail a cherry off Sacul’s head from 100 feet.

VAL – I’ve no doubt, though that might explain the scrap of synthetic hair I found in the tree the other day.

TERRA – Hey that wasn’t my aim, he sneezed!

VAL – (quirking a brow) Yeah suuuuuuure, a droid sneezing.

Val suddenly stops as his eyes wince a moment, running a finger along his chest while he seems to stare blankly. He then blinks the sensation away as Terra shifts her smile to concern. Her eyes study him closer seeing that something isn’t quite right with Val’s peculiar movement.

TERRA – What is it? Is something wrong?

VAL – (blinking) No…its nothing, just lost my train of thought. (breathes deep) Now, I need to explain to you what I’m doing here and its significance to your training. You heard me talking to myself I assume?

Terra shifts her foot a moment, clearing her concern as she thinks back and nods slowly. Her fingers slide along the shaft of her javelin as Val begins to explain his actions in more detail.

VAL – Just as I crafted the first set of your weapons, you recall that I told you, you had to learn how to operate this equipment on your own and develop patience and concentration before I would even let you touch it. With that, you learned how to craft your own weaponry, as I have done now.

Val brings his sword where Terra can view it, taking her free hand, tracing her fingers along the grooves in the metal, letting her feel the regions of the hilt, down to the length of the top of the blade, along the three oval cuts running centered into the blade.

VAL – Every detail of this weapon was generated by my hand. Even though the machine creates the means to breathe life into a lifeless material like steel…it is your concentration and guidance that creates the weapon. Nevertheless, a weapon be it a lightsaber, sword, or your javelins are useless. As sharp and effective as they appear…they are only an extension of the user who wields them.

Val removes one of Terra’s javelins and runs his fingers along the craftsmanship, as he stares into his daughter’s transfixed gaze. Her fingers appreciate every curve and crevasse of his masterpiece, cherishing the care that has gone into the design, seeing Gen’s lightsaber reflected into the structure from the mid grate to the bands, also noticing her friend Lon’s rings as well, nodding with approval to the composition.

TERRA – I understand that our weapons are a function of our skill and the desire to use them…I can see that art imitates life, in this and anything else made by your hand. You are truly gifted Master Val, I thank the guardians of the force every day I wake for bringing you into my life. As such, I fight to protect both of you and prove that I am more then what I was when I arrived here.

VAL – (nods) What you have attained Terra, you have earned by your own deeds and choices. Gen and I are merely guides to your training. As parents we cherish and adore you, nothing will ever tear you from us; we will protect you to our dying breath. Remember these words well. A weapon is only as strong as the hand that wields it. Without a hand to guide its path, a weapon becomes as lifeless as the day it was conceived.

Terra blinks a moment, keeping her fingers tracing over Val’s sword, resting her javelin along her side. Her thoughts lead back to her time in the Killian Order, never given such generosity where Quillion made it clear that nothing she ever touched belonged to her. Everything was a loan and was owed to him, paid in loyalty and easily snatched away.

Now she possessed her own weapons and clothes. She had her personal individuality and identity. She wasn’t a number who was easily replaced or forgotten, she had meaning and purpose…she was a member of the Versai family. A bloodline plagued with a curse that was now broken and a it was erected upon a foundation of respect, honor, and a prevailing fighting spirit.

VAL – (running his fingers though Terra’s hair) So, you said you wanted some target practice eh? Tell you what Wildcat, let’s see how much faith you have in your training and your trust in the force. Class is now in session.

Val retrieves his sword and begins to walk a few feet from Terra keeping his back towards her as he slides the tip of his sword along the floor in an arc, letting the tip carve into the floor as a thin strand of metal curls upward from the indentation.

VAL – (back turned) I want to show you what respect for your instrument can achieve. Always remember that a weapon is a part of you…it completes you and protects you as much as you respect it. Complete faith in the force is vital.

Terra nods slowly, still unsure of where Val is going with this display, keeping her javelin in her hand, while watching Val’s fluidic movements.

VAL – Now…attack me.

TERRA – (stunned) What? How? Why? Are you serious?

VAL – (focused) I’m dead serious…the only way to learn is by experience. Faith in your ability and faith in the force, I want you to throw your javelins towards my head, and do not question the consequences.

TERRA – But I don’t know…

VAL – NO! Don’t question instinct…do it, don’t think it.

Taking a deep breath, Terra tries to clear her mind as she slides her hand back and draws back another javelin, taking two, one in both hands focusing her aim towards Val’s head as instructed. She didn’t want to throw her weapons at him! Was he nuts? What if she missed, what if her aim was off? What if he couldn’t move in time? What if???

Val read his daughter’s mind and growled angrily as he kept his back to her, his eyes focusing to narrowed half moons, letting the force guide his movements, ignoring that momentary twinge to his hand, commanding the force to stabilize it.

VAL – Don’t think about the “What if” just do it…now!

Without thought, Val sensed her listen. Seconds later he could hear the javelins slice through the air as Terra spun around and released them. Time seemed to move slowly as Val noticed that Terra’s concentration was off and that her javelins were being purposely hurled to miss him, approaching at visibly slow speeds but really Val was moving incredibly swift. Swirling his hands upward, his sword cleaved through the first javelin as he pivoted on his right foot to slice the second projectile. Both halves toppled to the floor, keeping his eyes trained on Terra again, disappointment found within them.

VAL – DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME! LET GO!

Again, Terra reached into her quiver, and seconds later she hurled her javelins again, this time aiming to hit the mark as Val spun around, flung his sword skyward into the air and faced her, grabbing each javelin in mid air into his hands his knees hit the floor. Whipping his hands forward, he intended to send her own weapons back at her, where Terra instinctively reacted and in turn mirrored her father’s movements, catching the javelins in her hands, just as Val reached out and caught his sword from its decent…all in seconds.

TERRA – (breathless) What…what just…happened?

Val looks down at his sword, and then slides it into the sheath as he grabs it from the corner, pacing towards Terra while he heads to the exit, whispering into her ear.

VAL – (whispering) You’ve just commanded your weapons…and they obeyed you. They know their maker and they respect her.

She stood there a moment, still shaken, grasping her javelins in both hands, before sliding them back into the quiver, slowly, cautiously lifting her wide eyes to Val, nodding slow to his words.

VAL – Terra, you have just taken a step closer to understanding the potential of a Dark Jedi. There is no fear without purpose, no action without reaction, no hesitation when there is necessity. I’m proud of you, you put faith in your weapons and in doing so you have placed faith in yourself.

TERRA – (still shaken) But I could have hur….

VAL – Shhh…But you didn’t. That’s doubt, not strength…not faith.

Draping his arm around Terra’s shoulder, Val pulls her into a warm hug, holding his sword in his left hand, while he guides her to exit the Firehouse, no longer needing a purpose to remain there. Terra walks towards the turbo lift, rounding a corner while Val gestures for her to keep moving, adding that he will catch up with her in a moment. It is then that the moment she disappears, he slumps against the wall and grabs a region of his chest, feeling a burning there…momentary but apparent. Perhaps his movements had taken more out of him then he had thought, or perhaps there was something more elusive.

“People you love will suffer…”

Drawing in a few breaths of fresh air clearing his thoughts, the pain subsides and Val heads to join Terra in the turbolift. Masking his disturbed thoughts, Val holds Terra close as they both stare into a series of lights passing around them while the turbolift ascends.
 

INTERIOR: DINING HALL – VERSAI MANSION

As the lights stream past the two close figures, leading upward, the scene shifts to another location filled with lavish red drapery, shimmering white marble walls and a polished wooden floor where our outlook passes through the large foyer of the mansion, sweeping down a decorated hallway and leading up a set of red carpeted stairs, turning another corner passing beyond the familiar domain where Val’s attire through the years remains in pristine condition behind the holo cases, hovering in perfect alignment, sweeping beyond a large banner where the Versai Crest and Gen’s Zeridian Crest intertwine, reading the signature passage “Eternal Love, Forever Bound.” Swerving beyond it to another room, circular in design with a much different color scheme of monochromatic blues and subtle grays as Gen Zeridian stands prominently before a large elliptical screen running her fingers through her purple locks absently pushing them from her view, trickling them down her neck.

The blue hues cascade around the curves of her lustrous form fitting black leather and spill across the exposed regions of her body illuminating the creamy skin tones. Gen speaks to the image of Sara Versai who transmits her response to Gen’s summons via a holographic signal. Every so often, even with the best money can buy Sara’s image ripples and skews slightly, with a semi-transparent line that travels along her depiction with a low sounding flicker of electronic distortion.

Gen stands confidently with arms crossed along her chest in very dressed down black leather, two piece outfit. Along the regions of her breasts is a pattern of swirled gold, while a zipper runs vertically down the center of her chest, past her exposed navel to the rim of sleek material that hugs her widened hips. Rims of the identical Versai “gold” along her chest expose three sections of bare skin on each side of her frame, adding a touch of seduction while keeping the rest of her body covered completely. It is obvious that this choice of attire was not suited for combat situations, but casual circumstances, eluded to further by the absence of her signature trench coat. She did however still have her second lightsaber, prominently hanging from her belt.

Her gleaming purple eyes focus upon Sara, who is revealed in her own luxurious outfit, clad in a jade shimmersilk top that wraps around her neck, leaving her shoulders bare where her silky blonde hair cascades down her back. The top spilling downward to cover up Sara’s cleavage and midsection, meeting at a belt where the Versai Crest resides as its clasp, flowing downward to cover her thighs, while the same ribbed pattern of her more combat based attire is present along her outer thighs, but instead of being in reds and blacks, is shown in aquatic blues, which compliment her full appearance almost sea like in its look, topped off by elegantly brown boots with several buckles. The attire makes sense since Sara has developed a love of the ocean that crashes upon the rocks below the cliff where Adega resides.

GEN – (smiling) Remember Sara, I desire this celebration to be completely unexpected. Val has been through much training and solitude. It is time if he will not surrender willingly to a little relaxation, as his female companion…I take matters into my own, very capable hands. Do you not agree?

SARA – (smirks) You know you could just do the eye thing on him. If I know my brother and your history…I doubt very much he would put up much resistance.

While Val has pushed himself to return back to the level of skill he once was before the coma, Gen has supported his wishes but even with that support she felt that he was not all “there”. Something happened when he went into the coma for Val was acting more peculiar then usual…and distant. Each embrace was warm and comforting, but cautious. Her womanly instincts detected right away that each time her skin met his…there was that lingering element of fear.

What was Val hiding from her? Sure, Sara was right she could seduce the pants off of him…literally but she also knew that Val again if it was absolutely necessary for her to know would tell her because above all else their relationship has always been built upon complete honesty. Then again this was years later and Val had evolved tremendously…perhaps that bond of honesty was being shaken but by who or what? What would draw Val to shrink away from the one thing in the galaxy he craved most? What was the fear she felt in his arms? That shimmer of undying happiness within his brown eyes dulled slightly, ever so slightly. Gen knew he loved her, he told her time and time again. She had no question of their affection between them or the bond, but she was questioning his seemingly forced distance. She thought that having Terra as their daughter would help to ease his concerns and for a good amount of time it had.

But now it was different again…what happened? Val was fine and now he was once again concerned, his nightmares he had described must have returned…what did he know? Gen closes her eyes then slowly opens them smoothing her fingers down her hips, adjusting her stature as she looks downward, then slowly raises her gaze to Sara. There was a hint of disturbance in her expression…a lingering concern that Sara could detect but it was obvious Gen was not open to sharing completely.

SARA – (concerned) Gen? Are you ok? I know the reference to closing your eyes to purge your thoughts, you taught me the technique remember?

GEN – (takes a deep breath) Indeed I did. Conversely for the moment, this is my Beloved’s day to relax. You know the plan; see that you both meet us at the rendezvous point. It wouldn’t be a party without family there.

SARA – (nods) Don’t worry Gen, we’ll be there with all the trimmings. There is one thing you should learn about our positions though and I think it might be part of what is troubling you.

GEN – (quirks a brow) Oh? By all means…elaborate.

SARA – (glancing downward) I think I understand that look in your eye…I know because I see it when I glance in the mirror while Lance is away on business. You must understand that our male companions…they feel they need to remain superior…in business, in combat, training. They don’t want to let us see when they’re hurting, when they’re at their weakest moments.

GEN – You speak of recovery?

SARA – Exactly, right now Lance and Val feel that they aren’t at a level of acceptability. It’s a guy thing. I’m sure you remember when Val had to distance himself from you for those two months? Lance did the same thing when he started physical therapy on his leg. But the important thing to remember is that all we need to do is be patient…they’ll come back to us unconditionally in time.

GEN – I see, you are saying I must give him time? Hasn’t a year been enough? No Sara, there is something deeper then recovery…he was well up to a few months ago…whatever is upsetting him has resurfaced. This is why I feel it necessary to show him not what it was like to sleep, but what it is like to live and enjoy the splendors of life.

SARA – (snickers) “Splendors of life”, would that mean skin tight leather and a blindfold?

GEN – (shows a blindfold) Half correct. Let’s just say more then candles will be involved.

Suddenly Gen glances to sounds coming from down the hall as she shifts her flirtatious expression to concern. She can hear the distant sound of Terra’s laughs, followed by the echo of Val’s footsteps looming closer. Desiring to keep her deeds a surprise; she snaps her eyes back to Sara holding her finger over a button.

GEN – We’ve no more time. He’s almost here, I sent Terra down to retrieve him; you know the plan. We will speak on Chandrila.

Sara nods approvingly as Gen quickly presses the button, ending the transmission. Sara’s image flickers out just in time to see Val’s shadow spreading along the wall. With a deep breath her eyes shift to a flicker of amethyst knowing well that she’ll have to evoke her special talents just to get the blindfold on her stubborn mate.

Val paces into the room and takes one long, lasting look at Gen’s figure. His tongue flicking along his lips absently as he mentally undresses her thinking, “Oh man! How that tight fabric really clings to those curves, shiny and firm ummmmm.” Unaware of her intentions or perhaps just too distracted he comes to view from her legs and thighs to the object in her hand…raising his suspicions.

VAL – (quirks a brow) Uh yeah officer I was just minding my own business when this crazy purple-pink haired vixen with big, bountiful, breasts blindfolded me and tossed me in the back of her speeder.

Gen grins a moment then walks over to Val, sliding her fingers along his cheek, then downward to his chest as he looks upward in pleasure, loving the caress of her fingernails brushing his heated skin. Her caress suddenly slips downward as she yanks his newly fashioned sword from his grasp, grinning devilishly stepping away, withdrawing the blade from the sheath in one fluidic movement.

GEN – (grins) I’m sure a man of law enforcement in your position would not protest such circumstances.

Val is stunned by the tease, but not surprised for he knew she was a clever little minx who was the type you couldn’t predict from their movements and body language…that’s one trait that drove him absolutely wild, that hint of unpredictability like when she kissed him in their duel long ago much to the shock of everyone around them.

Gen examined the glint of Val’s new weapon, slicing the blade through the air as she turned and pivoted in her perfected Form G grace. Her fingertips danced along and around the silver-black hilt of the sword, swinging from a front to reverse hand grip in the blink of an eye, whirling the mirror polished edge around to stop inches from Val’s groin.

GEN – Superb balance, craftsmanship, attention to detail, agility, swift shifts in weight…but still not put to good use…like certain regions of its maker.

VAL – Now see here Gen! That’s just not fair! I’ve been train….(cut off)

Gen kisses Val slow and sensual on the lips, drawing in a breath then gestures towards the blindfold, her eyes shifting just a moment as the light seems to increase its intensity along her orbs, this of course only meant one thing though…she was engaging her special “talent” to accomplish her goals as she slides the sword back into the sheath, setting it on a table.

GEN – The time for training is over…Right now you will put on that blindfold and leave your decisions in MY hands, is that understood?

How could Val resist Gen’s request? Not only did she turn him on with every sweep of her body, but that sensual demand in her voice involuntarily gave in instantly. His eyes narrowed slightly for a brief moment as he put up “some” sort of fight, although meant only as his own retaliation to her advances…letting her feel that tension in the pause of his hand as he reaches for the blindfold and securely ties it around his head. This left the padding resting against his forehead as he cleverly points out that Gen never asked him to cover his eyes. He continued to lose himself within her oceanic violet gaze, memories of her supple, nude body writhing in passion long ago…and yet to be repeated as lust washed over him, just before everything went dark and all he could hear was the echo of her whisper in his ear.

GEN – I would do nothing to harm you my love, trust in me and let me guide you. Behave well and you shall be rewarded later…away from prying eyes.