TOPIC: Trials of Transformation

Thanks, Ovrcahst!

Borommakot’s mouth hung open and he looked around again at the misty landscape.

“You’re sure, Nevoa couldn’t be another name for Morcanth?”

The old Rodian shrugged, leaning against his bike.

“Whell, I suppose. It’s not unusual for planets to be renamed.”

“No, that doesn’t feel right,” Borom shook his head, “It may not be well known, but it’s a charted planet…or it was.”

“Whas?” Meidu asked, leathery eyebrow arched.

“Well, it’s believed to be destroyed,” admitted Borom, looking around again.

Meidu spread his hands toward the landscape around them.

“Looks pretty intact to me, kid,” he said simply, with an expression Borom guessed was a smirk.

“If this is Morcanth, than the Court is based here, some band of raiders and slavers that’s been taking people from the inner rim,” Borom tried. This world seemed like the perfect hiding place.

“Ahh, that’s unfortunate,” Meidu nodded, “Whell I can say whith some certainty that there aren’t any raider bases on Nevoa. Or bases of any kind, for that matter,” he added, cocking his head in consideration, “Or really any technology…’cept I suppose your ship, and what’s left of mine.”

“What? No spaceport, no installation, no people at all?” Borom frowned, “Then who mined the asteroid field?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, sonny,” Old Meidu held up a hand in protest, “I didn’t say there where no people here. As for the mines, they showed up sometime after I arrived. Your guess is as good as mine who put them there.”

I don’t need to guess, Borom thought, but instead he asked, “You mentioned others. Do you know the people of this world?”

“The Nevoa?” Meidu blinked as if the question was unexpected, “Of course! I came here to find them. Speaking of, whe best head back to the village. Your ship whill draw attention whe don’t whant,” he turned and opened a compartment on the back of his speeder, withdrawing a small, disc-like object which he tossed to Borom, who caught it and held it up for a better look.

“A tracker,” Meidu said, and nodded at the HWK, “Put it somewhere secure aboard your ship, or you might find it again. My bike’s scanner can pick up at a decent range, but I expect the old thing to give out at any day.”

Meidu waited, tuning controls on his bike, while Borom climbed back into the Outlast and attached the beacon to the underside of the main console. Climbing out again, he sealed the canopy, and made his way over to the Rodian, who straightened up as he approached, and held out another small object.

“Remote for the tracker,” Meidu explained as he climbed back onto the bike, “Keeps the power drain down. Handy in case you’re here a few years longer than you expected.”

Borom nodded, slipping the remote into a pouch on his belt, before hopping onto the back of the speeder. No sooner had he steadied himself than Meidu revved the bike and sped off. Borom’s stomach fluttered, and he wondered how wise it was to be riding with the half blind Rodian.

“You said years,” Borom called over the whipping wind, “How long have you been here, old one?”

“Most of my life,” Meidu answered, “Believe it or not, I came here on purpose, some forty years ago.”

Borom’s eyes widened, but when he didn't say anything, Meidu continued, “There were stories about whells of power, what the Jedi call the Force, on an isolated world beyond the Outer Rim. I whas a young researcher then. I searched for a few years, and pieces together the location. As soon as I had it, I set out on a long-term research mission to find and study this source,” Borom thought he heard Meidu chuckle over the whistling air, “I didn't count on it being quite this long. When my mission ended five years ago, I tried to leave, only to find the mines barring the whay. I came back much the same whay you arrived.”

Silence prevailed for a short while, except for the wind in their ears. Borom wondered if Meidu suspected that he was a Jedi, or how he would answer if the old researcher asked.

“Did you find them?” He asked tentatively, “The wells of the Force?”

“After a manner,” The Rodian said, “But you’ll see.”

As they rode, Borom noted that the landscape had remained almost completely obscured by the fog. He could detect the rises and descents, and see the rocky ground fly by underneath them, but there was no sign of any vegetation. A couple of times he thought he could see a dark shape loom in the mist that might have been rock face or a formation, but they never got close enough to tell.

After riding for what seemed liked hours, time difficult to trace in this strange, indistinct place, something finally did manifest clearly out of the mist: a broad arch of stone that rose so high, the top was almost lost again in the mist. As soon as it appeared, Meidu slowed abruptly, just gliding under the arch. He straightened up, prompting Borom to do the same. The old Rodian became sharply attentive, head turning slowly as he started scanning their surroundings.

The bike’s engine had been reduced to a loud hum, but that only seemed to make the atmosphere more oppressive. Borom was about to ask Meidu another question, when the Rodian cursed and swerved suddenly, the engine growling at the sudden maneuver. When they had reoriented, Borom opened his mouth to protest, but froze when he heard a distinct voice receding behind them, just audible over the speeder and Meidu’s continued string of profanities. The other voice faded quickly; too fast to distinguish any words, and though Borom turned as far as he could, he saw nothing.

“What was that?” He demanded, turning back to the front, “Something was out there.”

“A Nevoa,” Meidu said simply, “Whe’re close to the village now; hold on.”

A few more times, Meidu made sudden turns, though not as sharp as the first. Borom peered intently into the fog each time, trying to see what they were avoiding, but no other voices reached them, and he saw nothing.

Before long they came to another archway, this one a comfortable height for a Wookiee, and as they neared it, Borom saw that it was artificial. It seemed to have been crafted from a piece of scrap metal, the ends driven into the ground. Meidu stopped outside it, and the two dismounted. On the other side, a dark blur hinted at a wall off to the side. Meidu waved, signalling Borom to follow him, and they passed through the arch.

Only a short distance inside, Borom began to see the tell-tale signs of life: fluted white spears, leaning together in small stands, the wall—which he now saw was a natural rock face—drapped with finely woven nets, and a number of pits dug around the periphery. These he couldn’t see inside, but he noted with some apprehension that he still hadn’t seen any actual people. There were no apparent dwellings, or sources of light. The place looked abandoned.

“What is this, Meidu? Where is everyone?”

The old Rodian was strolling at leisurely pace, and didn’t bother turning to answer, instead waving a hand dismissively.

“I’m sure they’re watching. Don’t concern yourself; we’ll worry about introductions later. Here we are.”

A huge, hulking form took shape in the mist, revealing itself to be the forward hull of a large Baleen-class freighter.

“The Itinerant Chronicle,” Meidu proclaimed proudly, “or as I like to refer to it, home.”

The main compartment was closed, but a wide diagonal gash in the hull served as an opening, which Meidu began leading him toward.

“Took wheeks to get it back to the village, ‘specially after the repurposed grav-repulsors gave out. After that, nothing but the strength of our backs to move it.”

“You dragged this thing he—”

“Old Meidu.”

Borom spun around mid-sentence. The voice had come echoing out of the mist, but he couldn’t make out a thing. Meidu approached and stood at his shoulder.

“Whell, I guess we can do introductions now,” he mumbled before speaking up, “Greetings, Shygen.”

“Why do you bring this outsider here?” The mist demanded. Borom’s eyes flitted across the landscape in front of them. The voice sounded so close, but he saw only the fog.

“Just helping a lost spirit, same as you did for me,” Meidu shrugged, gesturing innocently at Borom, “Whould you have preferred I left him to the beasts?”

There was silence for a long moment, “Yes.”
“Now what talk is thi—” Meidu started, indignation entering his voice.

“He brings danger, carries war. The war of the Old Way,” the voice interrupted. Borom froze in his searching. There. Something was there. Two unmoving points of white…like eyes. And then he could see them. Maybe they had been there before, or maybe they had only gathered as he and Meidu passed. But now he that he knew what to look for, he saw dozens of pairs of eyes, spread out into the mist behind them.

As if sensing that he had noticed, the nearest pair came closer, moving just like someone taking a step forward, and he could tell they were looking at him.

“Do you deny it?” The eyes asked.

Borom shook his head, “I don’t.”

Pulling open his robes, he withdrew his blaster and his lightsaber, holding them forward in open palms. Meidu’s eyes widened, and he murmured something Borom couldn’t hear. When the voice remained silent, he ventured further, with somewhat more confidence.

“I am armed for battle, and that is my mission,” he said, “But not on your world. Another. A group there is kidnapp—”

“Our people know nothing of other worlds,” the voice interjected, and he saw the eyes narrow, “If your war is with another, then leave here.”

“I would, but my ship was damaged,” Borom explained.

“I’m going to help him repair it,” Meidu added, “And he’ll be on his way.”

The eyes stared for a moment, then bobbed once, “See to it, Old Meidu.”

Borom briefly had the impression of a blur where they eyes were, and they were gone. Looking around, he saw that all the others had disappeared as well.

“How?” He whispered.

“The supposed whells of the Force that I came here to study? The Nevoa. I’m surprised I have to explain it, castaway. Or should I call you…Jedi?”

“I’m not a Jedi,” Borom said flatly, returning his blaster and saber to his belt.

“Not a Jedi,” scoffed Meidu, “Who but the Jedi goes armed like that?”

“The opportunity is there for everyone who’s ever killed a Jedi.”

Meidu snorted, turned and disappeared through the crack in the freighter hull. Borom hurried in after him.

“What?” He asked as the Rodian briskly crossed the slightly uneven floor.

“Pointless dodging the question, castaway,” Meidu’s voice echoed out of the corridor that he had disappeared into. Jogging to keep up, Borom stopped at the mouth of the corridor and saw Meidu step into a ladder well and begin climbing up, “Probably why Shygen doesn’t trust you.”

“Borommakot. My name is Borommakot,” he called up as he reached the ladder, and started to climb.

“Very whell, Borommakot,” Meidu’s voice drifted down to him, “Still the truth goes unspoken.”

“I already told you, I’m not a Jedi,” Borom answered, stepping out of the well on the next level, which appeared to be where the living quarters were. Looking around, he spotted an open door with light shining out of it part way along the corridor, and started making his way towards it, adding, “Not anymore.”

“So there it is. The Force whielder carrying war whith him, a Jedi who has left the path. Sounds like a vendetta.”

“That’s not how the Force works,” Borom shook his head, stepping into the doorway, “And I have no vendetta.”

He was surprised to find that the room Meidu occupied was part of the regular crew’s quarters. There were six bunks along one wall, and three narrow desks along the opposite one, and some small lockers on the far wall. Meidu was seated at the middle desk, poring over flickering datapads, and what looked like actual paper, with handwritten notes.

“Hm, it remains to be seen if you can lecture me about the Force, young castaway. I wager I’ve been studying it longer than you’ve been alive,” Meidu said without looking up.

“You’re not a Jedi,” Borom pointed out, shrugging.

Meidu looked up, arching one eyebrow, tube-like mouth forming a small sneer.

“Neither are you.”

Borom glared.

“Look, Borommakot,” the old Rodian sighed, expression becoming stern, “You know why the Nevoa don’t like you? They’re attuned with what they call “the Whay,” which you call the Force. They have the same concept of balance as the Jedi, and they know when someone is out of balance.”

Stepping into the room, Borom sat on the lower bunk closest to the door, and looked at the wall for several long moments. He didn’t want to admit how much Aisling’s departure had shaken him, but he knew wasn’t as focused as he had been before. Presently, he shook his head.

“That’s not their concern. In fact as far as I can tell, they want nothing to do with me, nor I with them. I need to get off Nevoa and finish my mission. I promise you, Meidu, this isn’t some personal crusade. Lives are at stake. Lives which the Jedi wouldn’t protect.”

“Perhaps they understood the whill of the Force better than you do, hm?” Meidu suggested.

“They understood the will of the Senate,” Borom said, looking away again.

“Hm. And the Force has guided you otherwise, is that it?” Meidu asked innocently.

Borom met his eyes, “It’s given me no cause to think I’m wrong.”

“Ah, but it couldn’t have given the Jedi the same perspective?”

Silence.

“So then, if the Force hasn’t given you the impression that this course is whrong, and it hasn’t given the Jedi the impression that they are whrong, where does that leave us?” Meidu asked, getting slowly to his feet, and beginning to pace. He made a spread his fingers in a vague gesture around the room, “Open. Balance, it seems, is attainable either whay. Which does, in fact make this a personal crusade,” here he paused, and pointed at Borom, “I don’t judge, Borommakot. I only say what I observe. But in my experience, denial is one of the great obstacles to freedom.”

Nodding slowly, Borom sighed.

“You’re…you’re right, old one. My actions until now may have been without emotion, but my choice to leave…was made in anger. I believe that the Court has to be stopped,” he said, standing and pacing around the Rodian, “I stand by that. I don’t know if I can do it on my own, but I believe it would be wrong not to try. Still…the Jedi way has served the galaxy for a thousand years, and I hope it will for a thousand more. Maybe they saw more than I did. Maybe I could have done more with them. But…”

The Rodian looked at him expectantly.

“But had I not left, who knows how long it would have taken? The cost in lives? I wouldn’t have met Aisling. I understand, now, that to think I was right simply because I had let go of emotion was a delusion. That’s what caused her to go after the Court alone…Alone…”

His eyes widened, “The minefield! The Outlast barely made it through; her ship was much larger! It could never outmaneuver all the mines!”

“I believe that,” Meidu said, bemused, “The Chronicle barely made it into the minefield, so it didn’t have to do too much to get ou—”

“Meidu! I need to repair my ship as quickly as possible! I have to find out what happened to her!” He felt the dam that held back his empathic sense, along with his emotions, crumble. Suddenly he understood the reason for the Jedi teachings about attachment in whole new light. He cared for Aisling, and that was a weapon the dark side could use against him. If anything happened to her, he saw that it would lay out a dark path for him unless he was truly willing to let her go. But he didn’t want to, “I have to…” he said again, half to himself, and made for the door. But he was stopped by a wiry grip around his elbow. He looked down to see the Rodian’s hand there.

“Whe’ll get it done, Borommakot. You understand?” Meidu assured him. Borom was still reeling; his head felt like it was spinning, “You hear me, castaway?” A thread of feeling, of hope, from the old Rodian shone in his mind’s eye, and he grabbed it like a lifeline, steadying himself against the rush of input, strange and foreign. Breathing deeply, he straightened up.

“Yes. Tell me what we need to do.”

He felt Meidu’s relief before he saw it in the Rodian’s wrinkled face. He knew the empathic link was dangerous, especially on this world of unfamiliar natives, but he there was nothing he could at the moment. So he just let it flow.

“First, whe need to get your ship back here,” Meidu explained, “But night is coming, and Nevoa’s nocturnal life is not to be trifled whith. It whill have to whait until morning. Then whe’ll just inventory the damaged systems, and see what the Chronicle still has that you can use. If your ship’s repulsors still whork, my speeder should be able to tow it.”

“And the Nevoa?” Borom asked.

“They won’t interfere.”

The voice that answered was not Meidu’s; it had the same echo as Shygen’s voice, but deeper, and accompanied by an intense curiosity. Spinning around, Borom was faced with what he thought at first was a mass of fog that had followed them into the ship. Looking closer, though, he realized that it was standing there, on two legs. It actually had a humanoid form, and he could see now that the two white eyes were set right where it’s face would be. So this was the Nevoa’s true form, why they seemed invisible in the mist; they appeared to be made of it.

“Sylph,” Meidu exclaimed, “What’re you doing here?”

The Nevoa answered, gaze shifting almost imperceptibly toward Meidu, “I want to help.”

Meidu shook his head, and wagged his finger at the ethereal figure, “No, boy, you know the Elders won’t stand for that. Does Shygen know you’re here?”

“They want this outlander gone,” pressed the one called Sylph, “He’ll go faster if I help. Won’t you?” At this Sylph turned back to Borom.

“Yes,” Borom answered quickly. He wasn’t sure how exactly the Nevoa was going to help, but he definitely wanted to know.

“There,” Sylph said with a nod, “I will help.”

Borom nodded as well, and looked over at Meidu, “The faster, the better.”

Meidu shook his head again, “I’m not going to argue with you. We’ll start tomorrow.”

Borom turned again to thank Sylph for his offer, but found that the Nevoa had gone without a trace. He gave Meidu a questioning glance, and stepped toward the doorway, peering outside. The hall was empty.

“Heheheh,” the old Rodian chuckled as he climbed into one of the bunks, “You’ll get used to it. Get some rest. There’s bunks and rooms to spare. We’ll start early.”

Sliding into the lower bunk by the door, Borom stretched out and tried to relax, but lay awake wondering about this strange world and hoping he would be able to find Aisling. But to do so, he had to be focused. The best thing he could do for both of them was to let go. Against the background noise of Meidu’s snoring, he meditated, slowing the empathic flow from the Force until it stopped and only his connection with the Force remained. Moments later, he was sound asleep.

Great continuation with delivery of another Chapter Borom. A very enjoyable read. Admittedly, I completed first read several days ago when it was posted and now after the umpteenth time re-reading it, thought it best to gesture my Thanks and acknowledgement to you. With the eerie eyes polluting the hazy fog, I was reminded about the humoured adventures of another of your creativity (seems like so long ago now), The Meek and Tracker and their acquaintances in their solution-seeking mysteries.

Heheh, thanks Ovrcahst! Yeah, sometime I have to revisit those character concepts.

I spent too long messing with this one.

“Double check that tow cable, whill you?”


Crouching under the nose of the Outlast, Borom tugged on the mooring experimentally, and the cable remained perfectly secure.


Stretching as he stood, he called back, “It’s good.”


Partially obscured by the mist, he could just see Meidu hunched over the controls on his speeder, tuning the engine to accommodate the bike’s heavy cargo. After a moment, the engine revved, indicating that Meidu was ready.


“Alright, Sylph,” Borom turned his attention to the Nevoa sitting in the cockpit, “remember the sequence I showed you?” Sylph nodded hesitantly, his head just barely visible thanks to the solid lines of the ship around him. Though the sense of marvel had more or less passed, Borom was still keenly interested by the Nevoa. He and Meidu had ridden out to the Outlast early that morning and, as before, Sylph had appeared seemingly out of nowhere shortly after, and stood silently by except when Meidu or Borom addressed him.


Eventually, Borom had tasked him with keeping the ship in line behind the speeder—the easiest part of the job—so Borom could monitor the ship’s systems. He wouldn’t admit it, but he also preferred being able to actually see where Sylph was, instead of having to search the mist for the Nevoa’s eyes. Retreating toward the rear of the freighter, Borom rapped on the hull with his knuckles and called up, “Go ahead and run it.”


Main power came on, the ship emitting a low vibrating hum. There were some sparks from the engine casings, but they quickly subsided. After a pause, the hum crescendoed into a dull whine as the repulsors kicked in, and Borom saw the fog dispelled from beneath the ship as it was pushed away. The hydraulics of the landing gear creaked slightly as they were relieved of the ship’s full weight, and then a few seconds later, they retracted half way, leaving the freighter hovering on a cushion of air just a meter or so off the ground.


Jogging toward the nose, Borom noted with just a slight twinge of amusement that Sylph eyes had widened nearly to full circles, and he gave the Nevoa a reassuring nod.


“Alright Meidu, move it out,” he called into the fog, a steadying hand on the nose of the ship as it bobbed slightly. Up ahead, he heard the speeder bike’s engine rev again, and then the cable went fully taught, gently tugging the Outlast forward, “Keep it slow,” he added, “I want to make sure the engines don’t cause a short.”


The battered ship drifted almost lazily by and Borom fell into pace with it as the lower engines passed. He gave them a look over; they didn’t seem to be drawing any more power than they should. With a jogging start, he jumped onto the starboard side and climbed in between the upper engines, checking them over. Finding them stable, he walked along the hull, under the angled lip of the canopy, and dropped into the copilot’s seat, causing Sylph to jump and set the ship fish tailing for a moment.


“Easy, there,” Borom assured him, tapping into the controls to steady the ship.


“Apologies,” Sylph answered. There was still a note of nervousness in his voice, but Borom also heard something that sounded like excitement, “I have never used off-world technology before.”


“Well, you’re doing a fine job,” Borom told him, relinquishing control again and bringing up the systems diagnostics, “I take it your people aren’t too pleased with your helping me.”


Sylph was quiet for a moment before responding, “We hold close to our customs. In all our histories and legends, outsiders bring disaster to our ancestors.” The echo quality of his voice made Borom’s hair stand on end with the strangeness of it. The edges of the galaxy seemed to hide so many mysteries.


“Why don’t you hold so closely to those customs, then?” He asked.


The mist-like frame in front of him shrugged, “Meidu says it’s because I am young.”


“What is young among the Nevoa?”


“Over six spears,” Sylph answered simply.


“Six…spears?” Borom was about to inquire further, but Sylph seemed to realize what he would say.


“Ah, I forget that it’s different beyond our world. The Elders explained it once to Meidu. He told me later that a spear of time was close to a thousand of the galaxy’s days. We don’t usually have use for such high numbers.”


“I suppose not when you can simplify things so easily,” Borom said, sitting back. A thousand days a spear, and Sylph was over six. That would make him only seventeen or eighteen standard years old, “How many spears is considered old by your people?”


“The elders measure their age in arrows; ten spears each. Shygen is the highest Elder; she is over seven arrows.”


“Much older than the average human,” Borom added, thoughtfully.


“You are human, then?” Sylph interjected with some excitement, as though uncovering a secret.


“That’s right. One of many.”


“Do all humans use the Way?” Sylph turned in the seat to look at Borom.


“The Wa— ? Ah, yes. Meidu told me about the Way. Where I come from, it is called the Force. Most can feel it, but few can use it, among any given people,” Borom explained.


A flood of questions came pouring from the young Nevoa, “How many peoples are there? Do they all live on their own worlds? Do only the hunters use the Way, eh, the Force?”


“Well surely Meidu has explained—” Borom began, but Slyph interrupted in his excitement.


“Meidu is always so busy doing his strange work, and the Elder’s don’t like us to visit him.”


Borom raised an eyebrow, “Why do they let him stay if he makes them so uncomfortable?”


“Mercy,” Sylph nodded, “he has done nothing wrong and to exile him would be death with the dangers in the wilderness. But also respect. He has always honored our ways. He also imparted his knowledge. He taught us the language of the galaxy, and he has shared other things with the Elders.”


“Seems reasonable,” Borom started, but then his head snapped up, Sylph following suit. The next moment they heard a vicious snarl, and a shout up ahead in the mist, and then a blaster shot, which resolved as little more than a dim pulse in the fog.


Both Sylph and Borom leapt out of the cockpit with preternatural agility. Sylph immediately disappeared in the mist, while Borom ran forward along the tow cable, sped on by the Force. He heard Meidu’s pained groans before he saw anything, and a moment later the speeder materialized out of the gloom. The old Rodian was on the ground on the other side of the bike, leaning against it. Borom knelt beside him.


“What happened?” He asked quickly.


“Local wildlife, fog hounds,” Meidu pointed with the blaster clutched in his right hand. Borom followed it and realized that there was a form in the mist not far away. From their position it just looked like a pale mass lying on the ground, “They’re hard to spot at the best of times—argh. I’m lucky this old thing still works,” he waved the blaster.


The beast, whatever it was, had mauled Meidu’s left leg and hip pretty badly, leaving deep, oozing wounds that had already pooled green blood underneath him.


“There will be more,” came Sylph’s voice from close beside them, “They hunt in groups, like us. Usually only after nightfall. We may be close to a nest.”


“Watch him for a moment,” Borom told Sylph, or rather the mist where he thought Sylph would be. Rising, he sprinted back to the Outlast and jumped back up to the cockpit. Reaching behind the pilot seat, he retrieved a medical kit, tucking it under his arm and clambering back down. As he reached the ground he heard a distinct, guttural growl reverberating through the fog. He paused long enough to seal the canopy, and then took off back to the speeder.


“They’re coming,” Sylph’s voice sounded urgently nearby.


“I know, I heard,” Borom answered, opening the kit with quick, measured movements, “We have time.”


“There’ll be too many,” Meidu grunted, eyes on the mist.


“Not for us,” Borom insisted, unraveling a bandage treated with bacta. Nodding, Meidu held out his blaster.


“Give me those bandages. You two hold them off until—agh—until I’m ready to move,” Meidu instructed.


Taking the pistol, Borom turned toward the mist, “Sylph? You know how to use this?”


Finally he spotted Sylph’s eyes as the Nevoa stepped in front of him, and felt the strange hand that took the blaster. He was surprised to find that it was solid; he had taken for granted that the Nevoa were actually composed of mist; maybe that wasn’t the case. Sylph held the blaster in front of him.


“I don’t,” came the reply, “The Elders would never—”


“Alright, look,” Borom plucked his own blaster from its holster and held it up between them, “Hold it like this. Think of it as a bow. You squeeze this trigger, the blaster shoots the arrow wherever this end is pointed. The Force, the Way, it will help you so long as you focus.”


The growling echoed around them again, closer, and now chorused by more than one animal.


“They will know where I am,” Sylph said nervously, his eyes searching the fog.


“Trust, Sylph. You can do this. Stay by Meidu’s side, only move if you have to, just don’t leave him. I’ll take the other side of the speeder.”


Vaulting the speeder bike, Borom opened his stance, and drew his saber and ignited it. The familiar snap and hum immediately relaxed him. It also seemed to draw the attention of the beasts, as the growls that now pervaded the air were punctuated by snarls and screeching calls. Then, everything went silent.


“Here they come,” Meidu whispered.


Sensing it before he could see it, Borom leveled the blaster and fired once. The bolt hit something in the air, its momentum carrying it more clearly into sight as it fell and skidded to a stop in front of him. Now that he saw it clearly, Meidu’s description of a hound seemed fairly close.


The beast vaguely reminded him of the Akk dogs found on so many planets in the Outer Rim, though its hulking form was far larger, and its hide a mottled patchwork of grays, rather than the browns and reds the Akks were known for. Its back was covered by bony looking plates, and its head was dominated by a wide gash of a maw, full of irregular, sharp teeth. Its muscled hind legs suggested it hunted by leaping at prey from a distance.


This theory, at least, seemed to be confirmed when two more of the hounds came leaping out of the fog. Spinning tightly between them, he cut both down with his saber. As he sensed more charging toward him, he heard the first blaster shots from behind him. Reaching out, he could feel that Sylph wasn’t struggling to hold the beasts off. At least not yet.


“I’m almost ready!” Meidu shouted hoarsely, after a couple of minutes of almost ceaseless attacks from the hounds.


Borom fired again and again into the mist, and three more times the hounds came flying out at him. They hadn’t become overwhelming yet, and he could probably have held them off with the saber alone. The blaster helped, though; that much was evident from the ring of charred, still forms that had begun to form in the area around the bike, mixing smoke with the fog. Yet the creatures seemed unfazed.


“Borommakot,” called out Sylph, “He’s up!”


“Get him moving,” Borom shouted back, “Head for the ship.”


Bounding onto the seat of the speeder, Borom started firing faster and flourishing the saber in broad sweeps, trying to draw the hounds’ attention. It seemed to work pretty well, as suddenly two or three of them would come hurtling out of the fog at a time.


He sensed one coming at an angle he couldn’t turn to face it quickly enough, so he ducked low, hoping it would soar over him. It almost missed him, but one of its clawed feet shot out with unnaturally fast reflexes and raked across the right side of his scalp as it passed. From somewhere out in the fog came long, coarse howl. Trying to ignore the pain now coursing up and down his spine, Borom fired into the mist after the beast, but there was no way to tell if he had hit anything.


Turning to face more incoming hounds, he shook his head to keep blood from pooling in his ear. It didn’t quite work, with the distraction of the attacking beasts, and the sound on his right side dulled slightly. He stretched out further with his senses to compensate, and he could almost see some of the creatures before they charged. He waited for a large group to charge, and then quickly turned off the saber and stopped firing before leaping into the mist toward the ship. He could hear the snarls and howls of confusion behind as he landed beside Meidu and Sylph, who had also stopped firing. Stepping past them, Borom unsealed the canopy.


“Quickly,” Meidu grunted, “we can’t let them damage the speeder.”


“The ship will be stuck here without it,” Borom nodded. Meidu shook his head.


“No, I'm just fond of that bike.”


Borom snorted as he climbed into the cockpit and reached down for Meidu’s arm as Sylph helped him up. With some struggle they got him into the pilot’s seat, and Borom lowered the canopy again.


“We’ll be back when it's done,” Borom said as it closed. Meidu nodded.


“We may not survive,” Sylph said quietly beside him. They could hear the growling of the hounds, still searching for them.


“None of that,” Borom whispered, “we won't die here.”


“That howl, before. It must be a Matriarch. That’s the only reason there could be so many,” Sylph replied, voice perfectly calm.


“Will they leave if she does?” They crept away from the ship, straying from the tow cable, where the hounds were sure to find them.


“Yes, but…no one can kill a Matriarch without becoming an exile,” At this Borom thought he heard a note of fear in the Nevoa’s voice.


“They won’t exile you for saving Meidu’s life,” Borom insisted.


“They won’t have a choi—” There was a guttural bark and one of the hounds burst from the mist, leaping and narrowly missing them as it passed.


“Move, before the others follow!” In a flash Borom bisected the hound with his saber and deactivated the blade. He couldn’t properly follow Sylph, so he just shot off in the general direction of the speeder, hoping Sylph would catch up. Hounds passed on both sides of him, toward where the lightsaber had been, and he reached out with the Force to further dull their senses and confuse them.


He came to a stop just a meters from the speeder, it’s form still obscured by the mist. Hearing animal growls, he edged forward, and was slowly able to distinguish one of the hounds, chewing animatedly on one of the stabilizer struts. Borom put out his hand, and somewhere in the distance there was a barely perceptible crack. The beast froze for a moment, then gave a soft growl and lunged off into the gloom.


Hurrying forward, Borom reached the speeder and was relieved to find that it hadn’t been damaged. He was inspecting the scratches left on the stabilizer when he felt a presence close by.


“Sylph?” He whispered, turning and looking around in the mist. A moment later the Nevoa’s eyes bobbed into view, along with the disembodied blaster pistol.


“For an outsider, you seem as if you knew our ways from birth,” Sylph answered.


“You reached out to me on purpose?”


“It is how my people hunt. Silence is our greatest weapon.”


Borom shook his head, trying not to sound too impressed, “Even outside this mist, you and your people would be formidable with even just a vibroblade in hand. Will this strategy work against Matriarch?”


“Hard to say,” Sylph’s eyes turned up and looked around, “If we can find her, maybe. These spears are powerful, but loud,” he added, holding up the pistol.


“They’re called blasters,” Borom said and then, hesitantly, held out his lightsaber hilt, “This is quieter. Just as bright, but maybe we can use it and be gone before the rest of this…pack notices.”


“Are you sure?” Sylph asked. Borom felt the strange sensation again of solid mist touching his palm as Sylph picked up the hilt.


“It may be our best chance,” Borom nodded, “She won’t be able to see it through you, will she?”


Sylph made a sound that Borom took to be a snort of derision as he spoke and the hilt wagged in the air in front of him.


“We are not invisible, outsider,” he whispered with some force, then added, more to himself, “Meidu still makes that mistake.”


Looking more carefully, Borom did notice that the most of the hilt was, indeed, obscured in what must have been Sylph’s hand.


“Alright. Give me the other blaster. When we find the Matriarch, I’ll distract her, and you finish her off.”


A hesitant silence hung in the air.


“Sylph?”


“I’m…afraid. Matriarchs don’t just come out and hunt. When they move, they threaten entire villages. Stopping them comes at great cost,” The Nevoa said.


Resting on one knee, Borom pointed out into the mist, “Sylph. This could be your village being threatened. And right now, you and I are the only ones who can do anything about it,” Borom held out his hand, “Let go of your fear. Trust your instincts.”


There was another brief pause, and then Sylph laid the other pistol in Borom’s hand.


“I’ll lead the way,” he said, and Borom noted that his eyes narrowed as they looked off into the mist, which he took as a sign that Sylph had found his confidence. Sylph launched himself into the fog, and, using the Force to track the young Nevoa’s mind, Borom followed.

As I've been away you my friend have been nailing it I see nice to catch up great stuff

Thanks Kered! Glad to see you're still with us.