TOPIC: Trials of Transformation

Having concluded your journey and reached the destination after a 10Hour drive was perceived with similar interpretation as the HWK-290 dropped out of hyperspace and made its descent. A Great continuation from the preceding Part Borom. I applauded the inevitable defeat of Unaud and so true, the encounter is so different from last time. Thank you. I've had my fix now, until next time..

Thanks a lot, Ovrcahst!

They descended on the outskirts of the village. It was a small collection of low, mud and brick buildings, but through the smoke they could clearly see the signs of numerous guttering fires still burning in blasted out holes in most of the structures. Borom and Aisling ran down the ramp as it descended.

“This is bad,” Borom shouted over the engines and crackling of nearby fire.

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed,” Aisling answered, looking around, hair moving eerily in the haze of heat washing over them.

“Do you know what we’re looking for? It might help if we split up!” Borom called over his shoulder as he moved toward the village, one hand held up to stave off the ash and embers drifting around them.

Aisling spread her hands as she followed, “He gave me a name, not an address! This is hopeless!”

Borom shook his head, “What is it with you and names? Just tell me what it was! This is the only lead we have; we can’t let it go that easily.”

She might have sighed, but he couldn’t tell over the noise all around them, “It’s Maven, Maven Tatama!” she shouted back, “We’ll do it your way. I’ll take this side,” she pointed to her right, “You take that side.”

“Right,” Borom nodded, to make sure she knew he understood, and started toward the nearest blackened building.

“Hey!”

He stopped, turning to her voice. She pointed at him, “Don’t get stuck in any burning buildings. You already owe me one,” she turned and ran toward a building on the other side of the village. Borom shook his head and pressed on. He kept low as the smoke intensified and quickly reached the first hut. He found the door blown off its hinges, but the way inside was clear.

The door had been a clear indication, but the interior quickly showed that the places had been ransacked. To anyone else it might have seemed strange. What valuable could there have been here to take? But he knew all too well this was no robbery, no pirate raid. The upturned furniture and swept aside rugs told the real story. The attackers had been looking for someone, same as he and Aisling.

The hut was empty, though, so he moved back out into the street and crossed into another building. Here he found bodies…some small, but he was unmoved by the sight of them. What he needed were signs of this Maven, and unless something indicated she was among the bodies, they weren’t his concern.

He passed through several buildings this way, looking to see if those who had attacked the village had missed any hiding spots, or for signs of survivors that had escaped. He came to a moderately sized building with caved in roof; it looked as if it had taken a glancing shot from a mounted laser cannon, perhaps from a fighter.

Wooden beams lay skewed at angles across the crumbling entryway, almost blocking it off. Borom briefly considered moving past it, but then he felt a presence. Someone was alive in the building. Reaching out, the still-glowing logs responded to his thoughts, shifting and moving, making just enough room for him to get in.

“Hello?” He called into the smoky gloom, “If you can make any noise, help me find you!”

There were only a couple of smaller fires still burning in the structure, but many of the timbers still glowed with heat. Straining to hear over the crackling, Borom finally noticed something; a clinking sound. He followed it until he was almost under the hole in the roof, and there he saw an arm protruding from the pile of rubble, weakly tapping a metal shard against the clay floor. He hurried toward it.

“Hey! Hey, don’t worry, I’ve found you. We’ll get you out of there.” He was able to move some of the logs and rubble away by hand, but one large beam had pinned some of it in place. Reaching out again with the Force, he eased the beam up and off the pile, and then lifted it away towards the side of the room and set it down, not wanting to disturb the structure any more. As it came away, he heard an eruption of coughing from under the rubble, accompanied by several puffs of ash near the arm.

The remaining rubble shifted, and he helped pull it away until a Twi'lek man sat up from beneath the pile, body wracked with coughing. Borom pulled one of the Twi'lek’s arms over his shoulder and led him out of the building, into the more open air of the street, where he set him down.

He waited a moment for the Twi'lek’s coughs to subside before inquiring, “Do you know who did this, and why?”

The Twi'lek answered in a ragged, husky voice between coughs, speaking a language Borom didn’t understand and blinking blearily as he looked around. He did say something that sounded familiar, though.

“Wait, wait,” Borom interrupted, “Tatama, you said Tatama, didn’t you? Maven Tatama? Do you know her?”

The Twi'lek nodded at the name, spreading his arms around at the destruction and speaking more, saying the name several more times, and finally pointing at a building further down the makeshift road. Borom pointed as well.

“There? Maven’s there?”

The Twi'lek nodded and kept pointing, “Maven,” he affirmed.

“Alright,” Borom got to his feet, “stay here,” he gestured with a palm, “I’ll be back.”

He ran down the path to the building the Twi'lek had pointed out, and looked around for any sign of Aisling, but couldn’t see her.

“Aisling!” He called out, his voice curiously muffled by the smoke, “Aisling! I’ve found the place!” As he finished she rounded a corner down at the opposite end of the street, the gray cloak she wore now covered in ash and soot stains. Spotting him, she jogged up the street to where he stood.

“You found her?” She asked quickly.

“Where she lives,” he replied, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction he’d come from, “I found a survivor who knew her.”

The hut they stood beside was decently sized. Like so many others, the door had been blasted apart and lay in splinters around the entrance, and all looked still inside. Aisling glanced over it.

“It doesn’t look like our chances are good,” she said.

Borom shrugged, ducking through the ragged opening, “We’ll know soon enough.”

The interior looked like most of the other buildings. Furniture lay cracked and broken on sides and at odd angles, cupboards and shelves had been pulled away from walls, some charred, homespun looking mats had been tossed aside, while personal belonging simply scattered the floor. There were two rooms off the main one, on opposite sides. When they found no sign of the inhabitants in the main chamber, they split up toward the other rooms. Borom swept aside the tattered remains of a door curtain and found what looked like a washroom, as torn up as the rest of the dwelling. He was pushing some of the debris aside with his foot when he heard Aisling.

“Borom, I found her.”

The lack of urgency in her voice told him all he needed to know. Crossing the hut to the other room, he found her just inside. A human woman lay on the floor of what had been sleeping quarters, a blast point in her back, and small burns scattered across her clothes and body.

“Our best bet now will be to talk to the Twi'lek survivor,” he said simply, and turned to leave.

“Wait!” Aisling stopped him, “She can still tell us what we need.”

Borom raised an eyebrow, “She’s dead, Aisling.”

She ignored him and knelt beside the body. She turned over Maven’s hands, but there wasn’t anything in them. Straightening up, she saw a small, cracked, smoky picture frame on the floor near the doorway. She stepped over and crouched, laying a hand across its surface and closed her eyes. After a moment she inhaled sharply, and her head jerked sideways, but she grimaced and leaned more firmly on the frame. She flinched again, but then turned her face toward the door. Moments later her closed eyes followed an unseen path from the main chamber into the room where they stood, to a point above Maven’s body, and then, suddenly, her gaze dropped to Maven and her eyes opened.

“I got something,” she said, looking at Borom with a grim expression.

Well it's been a couple of weeks but those last two parts were worth the wait nice eagerly await more

An enjoyable read Borom, great work. The suspense created is teasing. Whilst I have considered skipping a few Parts and waiting to read several in consecutive order, sometimes waiting a week for your next delivery is hard enough. Thank you with continuing your Writings.

Glad you guys enjoyed it

“You know how to use psychometry?” Borom inquired, brow arched.

She nodded, shrugging, “I left the Jedi, not the Force. What’s important is what I saw,” she pointed out, and gestured at Maven’s body, “She was expecting them to come. It wasn’t just that a family member was taken; she saw it happen, and got away.”

“For a time,” Borom added.

“Unfortunately. It was her husband they took, and recently. She was afraid she had been seen when she watched them take him away, and afraid they would come for her, too. She tried to warn people, to ask for help, but they thought she was crazy.”

“So they destroyed the whole village just to silence her,” he mused, “Well, that’s consistent.”

“What do you mean?” Aisling frowned.

“When they captured me they shot up a freighter full of their own prisoners to do it. I don’t think any of them escaped.”

“Zydow said he only stopped here to patch a coolant leak,” Aisling straightened up, and they made their way out of the blackened hut, “If he hadn’t, everyone she would have told would be dead. We got lucky.”

Borom shook his head as they stepped out onto the hazy street, “Not luck. The Force. Something dark is at work, and we are the instruments of balance.”

Just behind him, Asiling scoffed.

“Let’s collect the Twi'lek,” Borom went on as they walked, “He’ll need medical attention, and may be able to give us more information.”

“Oh, that’s not all we got from Maven,” Aisling said, and Borom stopped, turning.

“Really? What else did you see?”

“She tried to make a recording. It was destroyed in the fire, but—”

“Psychometry,” Borom nodded.

“Right. I’m not sure how she learned it; if it’s something she overheard when they took her husband, or something she saw, but she seemed fairly certain that they were taking people to a place called Morcanth, in the Unknown Regions.”

“Morcanth?” Borom started, but froze. His vision suddenly blurred and darkened. When it cleared he saw a dimly lit chamber of metal plating and girders. Some distance away, a single figure stood on a raised platform, framed by a great window that looked out on a large, red-brown world covered by large tracts of white clouds. The figure on the platform shifted, and Borom could see the loose profile of hooded robes, and then—

“Are you alright?” Aisling’s voice asked.

He shuddered, blinking; he was still in the burning village. Aisling was looking concernedly back at him, but he raised a hand and kept walking to assure her he was fine. It didn’t seem to be a satisfying response.

“What happened?” She asked as they reached the spot where the Twi'lek still sat. They each took one of his grateful arms over their shoulders and helped him out of the destroyed settlement, toward the ship.

“It was a vision of some sort. A room, on a starship maybe, where someone was waiting in orbit over a planet. Is Morcanth a planet?”

Aisling shrugged, “I don’t know. With the Unknown Regions, it could be just about anything. But we can check the charts back on the ship.”

They made it back aboard, and Aisling went to the cockpit while Borom carried the Twi'lek to one of the small cots in the crew’s quarters. After a couple of bouts of coughing, fatigue got the better of the injured man and he passed out, breath still coming in long wheezes.

Rejoining Aisling in the cockpit, Borom dropped into the co-pilot’s chair. She took her attention off the star charts long enough to acknowledge him before going back to poring over them.

“I can’t find any reference to Morcanth,” she said distractedly.

“We can settle for something closer, first,” Borom said, thumbing over his shoulder back into the corridor as Aisling looked up, “He needs medical attention. Probably better off-world.”

“Alright. Suggestions?”
Leaning over the slowly rotating star chart, Borom eventually pointed at a system.

“What about here? Eshan. Not too fa—”

“Eshan is no place for a Twi'lek,” Aisling scoffed with surprising intensity. Borom’s eyes narrowed, but he followed her gaze back to the map, where moments later she pointed out a different system, “Here, Bogden, no further away and less traffic.”

“Bogden it is,” Borom answered, leaning back in the seat and helping Aisling take the ship out of the system. Once they were above the atmosphere and they could begin preparing to go to hyperspace, he excused himself to go tend to the Twi'lek. Upon entering the crew’s quarters, he found that the survivor was awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling in silence. Borom sat on the cot across from him, and the Twi'lek gave him a sidelong glance.

“Borom,” he told the Twi'lek, placing a hand on his own chest, and then gestured with an open hand at the Twi'lek.

“Hm, hck,” The Twi’lek started to chuckle but it quickly turned into a hacking cough. When it finally subsided, he laid a hand on his chest, “Jel Acura.”

They sat in silence again for a while, rocking slightly as the ship made the jump to hyperspace. Eventually Jel spoke up, his voice still scratchy and hoarse. He went on for some time, in a tone that suggested he was simply passing the time. Borom couldn’t even be sure Jel was talking to him. But it occurred to him that if Jel felt well enough to talk, perhaps he could give them something useful. He leaned over to a wall compartment and retrieved a water canteen.

“Jel?” He interrupted, and the Twi’lek stopped, looking at him inquisitively, “Do you understand Basic?” Borom tried, offering the canteen.

Jel’s face contorted into a sharp toothed grimace that seemed to say, “Sort of.” He took the canteen and sipped from it, looking expectantly at Borom.

Borom considered how to ask him a question in a way he would understand it, and settled on something simple.

“Maven Tatama?” He said questioningly.

Jel’s face twisted again, fixing in an expression of sadness and regret. He started speaking, making small gestures with his hands, and smaller ones with his lekku, trying to add meaning to his words. Borom understood that Jel had known Maven, or at least that she had spoken to him, but that he and others had ignored her. Consistent with what Aisling has learned. Then he seemed to launch into a description of the attack.

His hands portrayed fighters, strafing the village. Eventually he paused, and gestured toward Borom, making writing movements with his fingers. Borom nodded and retrieved a datapad and a stylus for him. In a few moments Jel had outlined a crude image of the ships that had attacked. Borom instantly recognized the profile of the fighters that had attacked the landing site on Terical years ago; a dagger-like body with forward swept wings, and fang-like protrusions beneath the prow that swept forward toward the nose of the craft. Jel had drawn another ship, as well, a landing craft with design cues that clearly matched the fighters. It was thicker, and more heavily armed, but had the same fangs and sweeping wings.

Borom examined the drawings while Jel went on. He drained the canteen, which Borom refilled for him, and kept talking until finally he seemed to finish his story. Borom nodded, though he hadn’t understood. Still, he could tell that Jel wanted to help, so he decided to try one last name.

“Eh, Morcanth?” He asked. Jel only shrugged, taking another draught from the canteen. Borom nodded again and got up, patting Jel on the shoulder. As he made to return to the cockpit he was surprised to find Aisling just outside the door of the quarters, leaning on the wall, an amused look on her face.

Borom paused, and then went on walking toward the cockpit, Aisling following.

“Something the matter?” He asked over his shoulder.

“No, you just seemed so…tender, for someone so intent on seeming unfeeling.” She answered with a smirk.

“You think I act?” Borom asked cooly as he settled into the co-pilot’s chair again.

“I don’t know, do you?” she said, slipping into her chair. He turned and looked her squarely in the eyes.

“The simple truth, Aisling, is that the Jedi are poor at controlling their emotions,” he said flatly, “I found that where instinct works with the Force, emotion works against it, and I have closed myself to it.”

“Oh, so you’re stronger with the Force now?” Aisling replied, feigning awe.
“I’m focused,” Borom answered shortly, returning his attention to the console in front of him, “And I see the bigger picture, that the Jedi wouldn’t. Not good and evil. Just balance, and imbalance. When I truly separated myself from the uncertainty of feeling, I cut off the ability of the Dark Side to influence me.”

“Hmm, put that to the test, have you?”

He gave her a hard look.

“Awfully stern eyes, for someone ‘closed’ to emotion,” she said lightly, without looking up, “Honestly, you’d think this little philosophy would earn top marks with the Jedi.”

“No,” he said, staring impassively at the swirling tendrils of light coursing around the ship, “The Jedi are held back by their fear.”

It was her turn to stare, but the mirth was gone from her face. A moment later, the console began to flash and a subdued alarm rang, grabbing both of their attentions.

“Reaching Bogden,” she said, glancing at Borom, who remained focused on the controls, “Bringing her out of lightspeed.”

In less than a second the swirling light of hyperspace resolved into countless needles of light which retracted into the points of starlight in the black canvas of space. Before them was Bogden, a blue-green world orbited by several moons.

“Maybe someone here knows something about Morcanth,” she mused.

“Maybe,” Borom replied, “Let’s find out.”

Your created suspense is killing me Borom! It's always a nice distraction to step away towards undivided engagement of your Writing. More clues as advances and progress are slowly made however the puzzle and closure remains incomplete and unresolved. I sense an internal struggle that Bor'om is dealing with as he unconvincingly speaks of a stern newfound belief yet remains troubled with his stubborn decision. Like following the trail of breadcrumbs both he and Aisling must push forward and similarly, I too anticipating delivery of the next Part. Thank you.

And thank you, Ovrcahst! Good to know the suspense is being conveyed

Destination Bogden. Are we there yet? Are we there yet?

Thanks Ovrcahst

Haven't been around much; been kind of put out by how many problems my install is having. But still writing! So here's the next entry:


They dropped through the atmosphere of one of the moons of Bogden, a sparsely populated world with only one large, compact city. Landing at one of the few public spaceports, they sought out a low key medical center, which led them down to the base levels of the city. A cab delivered them there in a matter of minutes, and they left Jel in the care of a Bith attendant, before heading back out on to the street.

“Should we wait here, to see that he recovers?” Borom asked.

“No,” Aisling said simply, cocking her head incredulously at him as they walked along the concrete, “He’s in the med-center now, they’ll take care of him. We don’t have time to wait around. He’s told us all he knows, and now we need to make the most of that information. We need to see if anyone around here can help us locate Morcanth.”

“Good point,” Borom said, pointing down the street, “Should we start with a cantina?” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder, to where the cab that had brought them was now waiting for passengers, “Or head back to the spaceport.”

Aisling’s lip curled slightly, “Any pilots who’ll know what we need won’t have come this far away from the port. Let’s head back there and see what we can find.”

Borom nodded and they turned and went back to the taxi. They reached the port quickly, and stood for a moment looking at the establishments that clustered around the hub of transport.

“Split up again?” Aisling suggested.

“Good idea. I’ll start over there, with that tavern,” Borom affirmed.

Aisling raised an eyebrow sharply.

“What?” he shrugged, “You know as well as I do those pilots will know about systems not on any charts.”

“Mhm,” she answered, unconvinced, “Well, while you’re busy drinking, I’ll track down some cartographers who might be able to fill in some of the gaps on the Pangur Ban’s maps.”

She strode off without waiting for further response. Borommakot headed the other way, passing through the sensor gate of the bar. It was quite a bit more upscale than the dive where he’d met Zydow, but he could tell at a glance that there were pilots here worth their time.

He sat down at the counter next to a Duros and a human man in matching gray flight suits, drinking and talking. Borom signaled the bartender, a burly looking Ithorian, for three drinks and nodded at the two pilots. Setting the drinks on the counter, the two paused their discussion and scooped up the gasses, nodding appreciatively at Borom.

“A toast to you, friend,” The Duros said in smooth Basic, to which his partner chimed in, “Hear, hear!”

Borom lifted his own glass, “Hear, hear. Any advice for someone new to these parts, gentlemen? Particularly navigational advice?”

The Duros downed his drink in one drought and nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“Not looking for a ship?” He asked, cheerily, but cautiously.

“No,” Borom answered, “Just some help finding a destination.”

The Duros and the human nodded again, and the Duros replied “Easy enough, then. Talk to Sanyen,” at this he pointed to a table just a few steps from the bar where a young human woman with close cropped brown hair sat engrossed in the contents of a datapad, while several more littered the table, “She’s an atlas maker’s apprentice, and probably knows the hyperspace lanes better than any pilot in here.”

Borom raised his glass again, and got up and made his way to the table. The women absently reached for a plate of some kind of nuts, but made no sign that she had seen him, so he at last he spoke up.

“Do you mind if I sit?”

Her head snapped up and she jumped slightly.

“What? Oh! Yes, sure,” she hastily moved some of the slates so there was room to set a glass as Borom sat.

“I was hoping for a moment of your time,” Borom said quietly.

“Eh, mine?” She half looked around, pointing a finger at herself.

“You are the one they call Sanyen, aren’t you?” Borom asked, eyebrow slowly raising.

“Wel-Yes, I am, it’s just people are usu—” She paused, eyes flitting side to side for a moment, and then seemed to compose herself, “What can I do for you?”

“I’m trying to find a place. At least I think it’s a place; a world, probably, called Morcanth. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Morcanth…” she said slowly, “Morcanth, Morcanth, hmm.”

After a moment’s thought she began to sift through the data pads on the table, mumbling to herself as she did, “The Tydirium Veil…No…Rancor Nebula…Not even…Morcanth, that can’t be…Hm, here, I think,” she pulled a slate from the pile and looked it over, brows furrowed.

“You’re not trying to find anything on Morcanth, are you?” She asked, giving him a sidelong glance.

“That was the hope, yes. Is there an obstacle?” Borom asked.

“Only if the planet being destroyed is an obstacle to you,” she replied, sliding the pad over to him and then, as if only just realizing what she’d said, quickly added, “Oh, sorry…I hope it wasn’t anything important…” Her voice trailed off.

Borom examined the pad. It was more a historical record than a map, but it said in no uncertain terms that the planet of Morcanth had been destroyed, collapsing when its core had cooled almost a thousand years prior.

“Troubling.” He said simply.

“Hm, yes. Very…Uh, what’s troubling, exactly?” She asked, head cocking slightly to the side.

“Nothing to concern yourself with, miss Sanyen,” He said, nodding politely and handing back the pad and beginning to rise, “Destroyed or no, I shall need to visit Morcanth myself to know for sure.”

“Oh,” she said, then “Oh!” She perked up, “Whatever you find, will you please let me know? We’re grateful for any help keeping the atlases updated.”

“Shouldn’t you be advising us against visiting such a hazardous place?” Borom inquired, finishing his drink.

“Well, yes, but on the off-chance you find otherwise—”

“Thank you for your help, Sanyen.” Borom nodded again and left the cantina at a brisk pace.

He hadn’t gone fifty meters when he heard an alien scream from behind him, and turned just in time to see the cantina rocked by an explosion that knocked many bystanders off their feet. A gout of flame and pressure erupted from the entrance. For a moment, all his mental barriers failed.

“NO!” He cried out, stepping toward the blast.

A sibilant voice shouted out of an alley beside him, just loud enough to be heard over the unfolding chaos.

“There it iss. The problem with digging.”

Borom twisted toward the alley, face a mask of rage, eyes trying to pierce the shadows, where a tall, thick form leaned against one of the walls. It went on, straightening up as it did so. It was easily two and a half meters tall.

“All too often…you get answersss you don’t like,” the figure stepped into a sliver of light, revealing a dark gray skinned Trandoshan with accents of orange scales and an immense build, covered in mismatched pieces of armor. It stood looking down on him with a grinning maw.

“You’re with them!” Borom roared and charged into the alley, hands going for both his lightsaber and blaster. He barely heard the activation chirp of the proximity mine, and had no chance to react. A sparking stun net sprung out of the apparatus planted at his feet and engulfed him. The net discharged energy in pulses, shocking his whole body until he collapsed to his knees.

“Aaargh!” He shouted through the pain. Trying to rise, he grabbed his lightsaber and activated it, but the net just slid along the length of the blade, making an awful crackling sound.

“Mm mm,” the Trandoshan growled, “Fluid energy field. Nothing’ll break the net while its powered, Jedi or not. It won’t hurst sss’bad if you ssstop struggling,” the Trandoshan’s voice lowered to an almost guttural growl as it withdrew a heavy stun baton that looked more like a club.

Borom relaxed, though the electric discharges kept coursing, forcing him to twitch. His face twisted into a grimace.

“There,” crooned the hulking Trandoshan, “Makesss this easier. The Court will want you ali—”

The Trandoshan’s voice cut off with a throaty gagging noise, and one of its claws flew to its armored collar, and its eyes widened, staring down at Borom in surprise. Beneath the net he was reaching out with a clenched fist, teeth bared. The Trandoshan, now clawing fruitlessly at the empty air around its throat with both claws, fell to its knees, its jaws working furiously as it tried to breath.

“Borom!” A familiar voice echoed the light the alley. He turned under the net with a snarl, wincing as he did, but his expression fell when he saw Aisling standing there. His fist loosened, and on his other side the Trandoshan let out a raspy gasp, calling his attention back to it.

“Ack! Jedi filth!” It roared, leaping to its feet, “The Court will still pay for your skins!” A blaster and a wickedly serrated knife appeared in its claws and it leveled the blaster at Borom. In a blur, Aisling soared over him and landed between them, throwing out her hand at the Trandoshan, sending it tumbling back over a discarded trash compactor.

Reaching into her cloak, Aisling withdrew a pair of lightsabers, igniting a deep blue and a bright green blade. Flicking one hand out behind her, the green blade cut the power module for the net. Borom didn't immediately react, slumping somewhat under the now unpowered net, trying to regain his senses.


Aisling made to cut through the net, but then heard clattering down the alley. The Trandoshan burst out of the trash and debris down the alley, lumbering toward them, sending blaster bolts screeching toward them. His knife seemed to have been lost.

The sound seemed to bring Borom out of his stunned reverie.

“Aisling! Careful!” He called as she deflected several bolts, “He knows of the Court!” Igniting his own saber, he sheared through the net and stumbled to his feet. A hand went to his head as his vision swam.

The Trandoshan closed the distance tossing aside his blaster and activating his stun baton.

“Kriffing Echani harpy!” He snarled, swinging down on Aisling. She intercepted the blow, holding the sparking baton just inches over her head with her own blue blade. Adjusting her footing, she tried to swing in at the Trandoshan’s mid section. Like lightning, his other claw grabbed her hand, engulfing it and the hilt. She grimaced as the Trandoshan’s grip tightened, and the saber deactivated. Suddenly, the Trandoshan’s arm whipped out, swinging Aisling with it, and slamming her into the alley wall. She collapsed, but the clawed grip didn't slacken, and he raised the baton again. She had no time to raise her saber.

An amber blade sheared through the Trandoshan’s arm right below the armpit. He reeled back, loosing a raspy howl and gripping the smoking patch where his arm had been attached. He turned to face Borom, but I the next moment Aisling’s green blade had reappeared and it came slashing across the back of the Trandoshan’s knees. He crashed to the ground with a cry of renewed anguish.

Aisling and Borom stood on either side of him. He hissed at them, only to find the amber and blue blades crossing over his neck, causing hissing of their own as they melted red hot holes into the ground.

“Let’s talk," Borom said grimly, "about this “Court”, shall we?”

Thanks for the update Borom and with Part IX's Post. I here you (well.. read), have noticed some of your Posts On-the-Line about the SoundBoard and connectivity issues you're experiencing. Whilst there's a moments relief with overcoming the chassis anomaly it's little comfort reading that wiring dilemma's replace the former. I can't contribute to it however hope you achieve solutions for all soon and you can have your Saber firing-up as it should. I've bookmarked Part IX for reading later on this afternoon, Thank you with continuing the Fiction. Maybe it'll become a good distraction for you and the answer's sought specific to the install will come to you?

EDIT: Finally read with undivided attention

Awesome! Action. Three Sabers ignited. Amber, Blue and Green with an engaging battle. There is untold strength with Aisling clouded with equal mystery and only with time will more of her character and her past unfold. Investigations seem closer yet still so far from reach. With every turn of new opportunity and advancement a redirection occurs. Thank you for your Writing, the read returned was very rewarding.

Well can say you do not disappoint another great entry after some time away sure did enjoy catching up will keep look out for more

Many thanks, fella's! I'm glad you continue to enjoy it.

I'm glad I finally got the time to catch up with this story! Excellent, excellent work!

“Rrrrggh…AHHhrgh!” The reptilian scream rang through the alley. Borom lifted his saber off the seared scales on the Trandoshan’s neck.

“I won't yet you much if you stop struggling,” Borommakot said through bared teeth. He tried to keep his voice even, but there was still an icy edge to his tone. Aisling eyed him, eyes just barely narrowed, but she kept her saber in place, pinning the hulking Trandoshan to the ground between their two blades.

“You knew we were here. How?” Borom went on.

Their prisoner issued a throaty hiss, “Knew?” He gurgled, “You think you were important enough to watch? The Court’s agents are scattered across the Outer Rim. We see everything that transpires. It's not as if you made it difficu—”

“Enough,” Borom cut in, “What is the Court? Who leads you? What do you want?”

“Hreheheh. The Court is Cruach’s. You won't find him.Our work issss independent. Our leaderss anonymousss. There's nothing for you to track,” the Trandoshan went on with his gravelly chuckling.

“Nothing except Morcanth,” Aisling said with satisfaction. The Trandoshan went quiet for a moment, face twisting into a snarl. She went on, “Something tells me that's the only lead we need.”

“Go then,” he spat, “You only go to your deathsss.”

“Hm. Well,” Borom replied, impassive once more, “We can't afford you getting in our way any further.”

The Trandoshan’s eyes widened, and so did Aisling’s.

“NO!” She shouted, but too late, as Borommakot had already pulled his saber across the ground, beheading the Trandoshan in a heartbeat.

“Why did you do that?” Aisling demanded.

Borom looked at her, eyebrow raised, “Because it needed to be done. He was dangerous. If he had followed us, or alerted his superiors—”

“He was beaten!” She exclaimed.

“He was a murderer!” He shouted, pointing at the mouth of the alley, behind him. Blood pounded in his head as he ground his teeth, glaring at her.

She held his gaze, “What does that make you?” She said simply.

“I'm protec—” he started, but she held up a hand.

“Is that what it was when you were using the Force to choke him? There’s no honor in killing the defenseless, regardless of their intentions. Only darkness lies down that path,” she swept her hand in front of her, and then pointed at herself, “I’m out here to bring light to the darkness…not let it spread.”

She brushed past him and emerged back onto the street, where there was still chaos from the explosion in the bar. She paused, watching the emergency vehicles and personnel rushing all around, survivors stumbling around in a daze, smoke still pouring from the building.

Borom walked up and stood at her shoulder.

“He can't do that again,” He said softly. She turned away from the scene and strode down the street, looking for a taxi. They had to walk a few streets away to find one. When they did, they both climbed in wordlessly and Aisling directed the driver to the docking bay where her ship waited.

As they debarked from the taxi, she gave him a side glance and asked, “Did you find anything about Morcanth?”

“I did. That was what caused the Trandoshan to carry out his attack. It’s a planet, or was a planet,” he added with a shrug as they climbed the boarding ramp into the Pangur Ban, “Shouldn’t be too difficult for us to find.”

“About…us, Borommakot,” Aisling said, settling into the pilot’s chair before looking at him, “I’m no longer part of the Jedi, but I still believe in justice.”

“So do I,” he said.

“That wasn’t…” She paused, “That’s not the justice I believe in. The Trandoshan did terrible things. But there’s an authority for that. It’s not me, and it’s not you. If we’re going to continue hunting this Cruach and the Court, I need to know you’ll—”

“Aisling,” Borom said firmly, “I will do what is necessary.”

Her eyes fell, “Of course. And I suppose over time you’ve…”

“I’ve made places safer over the years,” he nodded once.

What had been a look of disappointment on Aisling’s face became a poorly concealed cringe as she met his eyes.

“I was afraid that would be the case. Very well,” without another word she took the ship through its liftoff sequence and took them into space. When they had cleared the atmosphere she began inputting coordinates in the navicomputer.

“You don’t need the data on Morcanth?” Borom asked. He had watched in silence, but now he leaned back, turning the seat to face her.

“I have a stop to make first,” she answered simply. When they entered hyperspace, she left the cockpit and went into her quarters, leaving Borom with his thoughts. But all he could think about was the next step, the journey to Morcanth. Had it really been destroyed? Would the Court be waiting for them? He settled back into the chair and closed his eyes, reaching out in meditation, and let the hours as he considered what the future held, and what had happened on the moon, letting the hours pass.

The proximity alert brought him back to the present; they were arriving at Aisling’s destination. He leaned over the console and added the data he had gotten from Sanyen, but paused as he noticed that the coordinates they were approaching were familiar. The next moment the ship emerged from hyperspace and the pale yellow planet grew to size in the viewport. His brow furrowed.

“Here,” came Aisling’s voice behind him. He turned, meaning to demand an explanation, and found her holding out a cred chit, watching him with even expression, “It should be enough to get your ship out of the impound.”

He sat numbly, too surprised to answer, staring at the chit in her hand. When her words finally sank in, his gaze shifted to her face.

“There’s…nothing I can do? To change your mind?” He asked.

She shook her head. His eyes fell, and he nodded solemnly, and took the chit.

“And you’ll keep searching for the Court?” He asked tentatively.

“On my own terms,” she said with a nod.

“What if we run into one another?”

For a moment, she hesitated, but there was steel in her voice when she spoke.

“Don’t get in the way.”

She stepped past him and took her seat, guiding the ship into the port. Still in a daze, Borom hardly noted that they landed in the same docking bay they had left from only days before.

“Corvette Pangur Ban,” came a voice over the comms, “Welcome back. Will you be needing a docking pass?”

“No,” Aisling answered, staring fixedly through the viewport, “I won’t be staying.”

“Very well,” the port authority chirped, “Refueling should only be a matter of minutes.”

“Thank you,” she said, and switched off the comms as the ship touched down. As the engines powered down, silence prevailed in the cockpit. After several moments, Borom stood, and glanced at Aisling.

“I appreciated having your help,” he offered, before turning and making his way down the corridor to the hold and the boarding ramp, descending it while it was still lowering. He was immediately struck by the dry warmth of the air outside the ship, and it helped him relax. He didn’t feel guilty; he couldn’t afford to, but as he neared the docking bay doors he couldn’t help but turn and look at the ship one more time. The soft purring of the low powered engines seemed to wish him well.

May the Force be with you, Aisling, he thought, and passed through the doors. Only a moment later, a foreign thought entered his mind.

And with you, Borommakot. Pausing, he allowed himself a small smile, and then hurried toward the impound hangar.

A bored-looking Duros attendant half glanced at him when he approached.

“I’m here to retrieve an old HWK-290.”

Great to see Part X return Borom. Noted that this acknowledgement is about 1 Day late (been a little busy) but managed some time today free from distractions to sit back and have a quiet read. A head rolled by the blade of Bor'om! Am not going to lie, there was pleasure with reading that Part. Conflict? Anger? Justice. Before the fangs be chanced for another attack, cut it's head off first. An action not agreed with by his companion and a division has occurred. I've got a feeling the paths with Aisling will be crossed once more. What colour were Bor'om's eyes as he struck down his tormentor? Am loving this Dark tone that is being developed. Very nicely done.

I usually try to avoid going back and making changes, except for copy editing, but there was a tad more dialogue I needed in Part X, so that has been added. I don't want to post it out of context, but I won't make you guys hunt for it. Just search for "Her eyes fell, " (no quotes), and it starts there and ends at "I was afraid that would be the case".

Part XI is still in the works

“Outlast, you are clear for departure,” chirped the voice over the comms.

“Thanks, control,” Borommakot replied, giving power to the repulsors and lifting the ship out of the docking bay.

“Just get your pass renewal next time,” added another, gruffer voice. Borom shook his head.

“Will do, control. Outlast, out.” The engines fired, taking the ship into orbit.

Inputting the coordinates for Morcanth, he sat back to wait for the navicomputer to plot a safe hyperspace course. He pushed aside a couple pieces of garbage that had been left on the floor around the pilot’s seat; apparently someone had spent some time in the cockpit while he had been gone.

As he tossed what looked like some old food wrappers onto the empty copilot seat behind him, the ship computer chirped, signifying that the calculations had finished. Twisting the control sticks, he lined the ship up along the path the computer had given, and activated the hyperdrive. The stars grew into needles, and the system disappeared as the Outlast plunged into the glowing tunnel of hyperspace.

Settling back, Borom tried to center his thoughts and meditate. He hadn’t felt fully in control since that moment in the alley, when he had found himself reaching out and crushing the Trandoshan’s windpipe. Executing the enforcer, and Aisling's response hadn't helped.

I feel the Force, he assured himself, Not anger, or fear. Not regret. He thought of the dead reptilian stare, reflecting the glow of his saber in its sightless eyes. It was true, he didn’t regret it. But then he remembered her look, her eyes that saw all too well, and felt an undeniable twinge. He remembered when she had finally asked if he had done it before, or at least she had tried to. She already knew. And no matter how deeply he had buried his emotions, her reaction had stung.

There’s no reason for that, he chided, You did what needed to be done. That was justice.

Breathing deeply in through his nose, he felt the guilt, acknowledged it’s source. He valued Aisling’s perspective. He valued her. Maybe too much, and that was something he couldn’t afford. It was a slippery slope that would muddy his connection with the Force. The cost would be too high. So he let her go. Breathing out, he let detachment take the place of compassion once more. His mind cleared, and he found his meditative state more easily. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off; a feeling he couldn’t shake, even hours later when the navicomputer pinged to warn him that the ship was approaching its destination.

When the Outlast emerged from hyperspace in front of a dense asteroid field, he let the ship idle for a moment, trying to spot a clear path. He was so focused on the empty space that he didn’t immediately recognize the oddly regular shape of a cluster of asteroids only a short distance away. But he couldn’t fail to notice when they flared to life and began streaking across the open space toward his ship. Orbital mines.

His nostrils flared as he hauled the control yoke in the opposite direction. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the mines were wheeling after him in pursuit. He would never escape them out in the open. Inverting the ship and diving, he swooped under the oncoming explosives, toward the asteroid field.

One of the mines adjusted quicker than the rest, dropping straight toward the Outlast’s canopy. Borom felt his appreciation for the nimble freighter grow as he rolled it away from the mine. The device, it seemed, had already committed, and it exploded only a few dozen meters behind the ship, sending a violent shudder through its entire frame.

Straining his reflexes to their limits, he pulled up along the curve of a larger asteroid, its surface so close that not even a sport speeder would fit between them. The mines were hardly fazed, but he managed to keep them from gaining any distance. Breaking off from the surface above him, he spotted a close group of lazily spinning rocks and gunned the ship towards them. He rolled around one, and weaved between two others, but the mines stayed on his tail. Powering up the Outlast’s laser cannons, he lined up with the remaining asteroid and opened fire.

Laser blasts smashed into the corner of the asteroid, dislodging chunks and sending the main bulk spinning away from the impact. Giving the engines as much power as possible, Borom shot past the spinning rock just in time for it to close the space behind him. He felt a series of dull thuds behind him, and the mines disappeared from the HWK’s scanners. Easing the stress off the engines, the whole ship seemed to whine as it cooled down.

Looking around, Borom found that he had lost track of the ship’s bearing. He would have to find a way out of the asteroid field before continuing on. Maneuvering through the field was slow going; making sure that he adjusted for every turn he made, to keep on a straight path. As he passed between two particularly enormous asteroids, another one up ahead drifted out of his way and he was greeted by the sight of a planet beyond the asteroids, the obscure glow of a yellow star shining behind it. Morcanth?

It was a small, gray world covered by swirling white clouds. As he reached for the panel to his side to prepare a scan of the planet, alarms began to blare; something coming in fast from above! He craned his head up, powering up the engines, but he couldn’t see anything except the lazily floating asteroids. Suddenly another mine darted out from behind one of them and shot towards the freighter. Putting the Outlast into a dive, Borom felt sweat bead on his brow in seconds as the scanners pinged the mine getting closer, and closer, while he searched for cover among the now thinning asteroids; but none appeared.

He was about to try swinging behind a rock about the size of his ship, just at the edge of the asteroid field, when the pings from the scanner stretched and blended into a single not of alarm—too late. He jerked the yoke sideways, but where there had once been an asteroid, there was now a fiery cloud of shrapnel.

In the next instant, the ship was rocked by the explosion, and pummeled by debris. The view through the canopy changed rapidly to a spinning blur between the asteroids and empty space, while inside emergency lights flashed and sparks jumped from the consoles.

The Outlast went spiraling sideways and clear of the field. Borom struggled against the forces pressing him against his chair and after several excruciating moments, caught hold of the controls. The engines guttered as he tried to apply reverse thrust, but slowly they responded. Some of the panels and readouts were fried, but most flickered back to life as the ship settled into a straight course.

Borom found that the port side engines had been shredded, and he watched their power levels drop to zero. The shields had absorbed a lot of damage, but the generator itself had been disabled, along with the hyperdrive and life support. Looking up, he breathed a sigh of relief to see that the canopy, though scratched and battered, was intact.

Setting his gaze on the planet below, he jockeyed with the controls to level the ship toward it. Scanning had been knocked out, but with the state of the Outlast as it was, his choices were to attempt a landing, or die in space. You tried, Cruach. But I’m not so easily killed. As the planet grew, Borom set his teeth, and slowly edged the ship into the shallowest descent he could.

He tensed as the ship struck the atmosphere, and began to buckle and shake. There was still a danger that the Outlast could be destroyed entering the atmosphere. Sure enough, amid the rattling and groaning metal, Borom heard a sudden loud groan and then the roar of the remaining engines went silent; they were dead, and he was now simply gliding through the upper atmosphere of this planet.

Smoking and crackling, the ship hurtled through the clouds. Borom quickly found that much the surface was shrouded in mist, cutting visibility down to almost nothing. He fed what little power there was tentatively to the repulsors that still functioned, helping the crippled freighter slow its descent.

The ground loomed out of nowhere, prompting Borom to punch the repulsors to maximum. He felt the strain of the ship pushing against the ground, as its momentum drove it down. Gravity won, and the ship bounced hard on the rocky surface once, before settling unevenly on its repulsors. Borom tried the landing gear, and the three struts gratingly responded, and he finally set the ship down.

The cockpit opened with a hiss, and cool, damp air rushed in, carrying away the smell of burnt wires and circuits. Borom climbed out and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. Taking a few steps back, he circled the ship to get a look at the damage. Most of it was hard to see; oily black smoke was still pouring off it several places; most notably the engines.

Coming back around to the open cockpit, he hung off one of the boarding footholds so he could reach in and retrieve the emergency extinguisher. Carrying it around, he sprayed the foam agent at the heart of the smoke, and some of it cleared up. He wasn’t surprised how many critical components were damaged beyond repair, but it looked like most would be easy to replace, if he could find the parts.

If I ever leave this world, he thought, letting the extinguisher hang at his side as he tried to see into the mist that seemed to cling to the ground. As he stared out into the gray, a low whine reached his ears. For a moment, he thought it came from the Outlast, but he soon realized it was something distant…distant and coming closer. He dropped the extinguisher and drew his blaster. Moments later an old and beaten, brown speeder bike emerged out of the mist, ridden by an equally old and beaten Rodian.

The Rodian pulled up into a stop a few meters away and, with some effort, dismounted the speeder and turned to face Borom. He noted that the Rodian's left eye was dull and sightless as the old one took a step toward him and spoke through what passed for a smile among their people.

“Mmmwhell, what have whe here? A visitor,” the old Rodian gave scratchy laugh, nodding toward the still smoking HWK, “Or perhaps a permanent resident, heheheh. I apologize for the delay; whould have gotten here more quickly, but I have to be a little more careful not to hit anyone since the eye went.”

Borom gave the Rodian a suspicious look, “You…aren’t with the Court?”

“Eh, court?” The Rodian’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Cruach’s Court? Morcanth?”

“Morcanth? Never heard of him,” croaked the Rodian, “I’m old Meidu.”

“No,” Borom insisted, “Morcanth is a planet. Meidu, do you know where we are?”

Old Meidu scoffed, making a strange chirping noise.

“Of course, young castaway,” Meidu gave another wrinkled smile, “This is Nevoa.”

Thanks with the delivery of Part XI Borom. Evasive manoeuvres through a field of asteroids was intense writing. Well done. Keep 'em coming.