Star Wars Character Cafe - The Legend of Black Saber Chapter 1

Title: The Legend of Black Saber
Author Name & Email: tatooinewizard, sabbath7@orwell.net
Characters: OCs
Era: Pre-Phantom Menace
Category: Action/Angst/Horror
Rating: PG (although a little PG-13 near the end)
Summary: Takes place 175 years before the birth of Anakin Skywalker, and deals with the story of Cloudia Wandry, the Force-Sensitive daughter of a Jedi Master that left the Order for reasons unknown. She comes face-to-face with a Dark Jedi, the descendant of the infamous Avernus Starkiller, who will stop at nothing to turn Cloudia to the Dark Side and destroy the Jedi Order.
Disclaimer: All previously created elements of the Star Wars universe (ie anything I haven't personally created) does not belong to me, nor am I making any money from this endeavor.

THE LEGEND OF BLACK SABER

CHAPTER I

A cold fire blazed throughout Cloudia Wandry’s tense body as she jerked awake and quickly fought to sit up in bed, and she rubbed her eyes with her clammy hands, forcing herself to see in the darkness. She looked to her right and saw the bulky outline of the trunk, which contained her meager belongings, and the archaic computer control panel that was flashing slightly. Seeing those things, she knew where she was: her room on Valenteen’s base on Trangor L’sa.

She sighed, rubbing her forehead, and then her black hair, with her trembling palm, and she knew she should have felt relieved, but she didn’t. Her heart still pounded, and she couldn’t help but shiver a few times. The coldness inside of her was only beginning to wear off, and suddenly Cloudia thought of the one thing that might comfort her.

She twisted out of the sheets without haste and silently walked to her trunk; it was an antique piece of furniture, from the Vega system, and it had a quite modern, computerized locking mechanism. The young woman didn’t know why she was obsessive about keeping the trunk locked. Who would want to steal from me anyway? she thought, but then she reminded herself, the galaxy is full of fools.

She hit the third of five buttons, a mesh of numbers and letters scrolling onto the small screen below. Then she typed her sprawling code from memory, and when she finished she heard the slightly hissed ‘chhhh’ sound of the lock giving. Then she opened the trunk and reached to the bottom left side. After a moment her hand brushed against the familiar feeling, sleek metal object, and even more quickly, it was within her grasp and out of the trunk.

Then Cloudia slid the tip of her thumb along the handle until she tapped the slightly raised button, and the lightsaber came to life. The blade was black, and as she tilted it vertically, the distorted light worked its hardest to cast an ominous look into her somber, thoughtful features.

Perhaps if she had been completely human she wouldn’t have looked so threatening, but her late mother had been a Churyen. So the young woman had a somewhat gold tint to her skin. She had a trio of crescent-shaped bonelines curving from her eyes to her cheeks; her eyes themselves were a deep, thick purplish color, and her lips looked bruised with a similar hue.

The half-Churyen kept her stare focused on the lightsaber and knew that most wouldn’t have wanted to be saddled with this odd brand of the familiar Jedi weapon. It had the appearance of a tool that would likely be used by those interested in the Dark Side of the Force.

But this object had belonged to her now deceased father Corryn Wandry. He had been a Jedi Master, and though he had left the Order, he had not done so for any dark reasons like some of the others before him. Well, Cloudia didn’t honestly know why he had turned his back on the Jedi, but she had known her father as a kind, loving man, someone who would never have been seduced by the Dark Side.

As she stood there, thinking and continuing to stare at her most sacred possession, the door to her room opened. She shuddered, unable to suppress a gasp as she forced her lightsaber’s blade to flicker into oblivion. Yet she immediately called the weapon to attention again. She would not be caught with her guard down. Then she saw who it was and sighed.

"Erik," she whispered.

Erik, Valenteen’s younger brother, stepped into the room. He was a tall man, about thirty standard years old. He had short dark hair, and though he also was very efficient looking in his crisp, blue uniform, concern was evident in his semi-handsome features.

"Yeah," he said, relating to Cloudia’s recognition, but then he asked, "Is anything wrong?"

"No. Everything’s fine… really."

Erik squinted at the blazing lightsaber and furrowed his brow. "You sure?"

Cloudia nodded, and to reveal her honesty, she shut down her weapon and allowed the overhead light to flicker on. "I’m perfectly fine," she reassured quietly, but she didn’t look at him until she asked, "Why are you here anyway?"

"Just had a feeling, you know how that works."

"I do…" Cloudia responded, not having to force the smile that suddenly appeared on her face. "With all these feelings you get, you might very well have Jedi potential in you."

"Well, maybe, but you know that sort of thing doesn’t really matter to me. I’ve got other things to worry about." Then Erik shifted the subject. "Now I want to know, why did you have your lightsaber out if there wasn’t anything wrong?"

The young woman’s smile was a memory, and she gazed downward. "I dreamt about my father’s death again."

"Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know… So much for having Jedi potential."

Cloudia sat down on the edge of her bed. "It’s okay, really. In fact I’m glad you’re here. I want to talk about it… I feel cold and isolated every time I have one of those dreams. It’s… it’s more awful than anyone can imagine. I mean I lived through it once, but it doesn’t seem like that was enough."

The half-Churyen forced her voice to become hollow as she fought back tears. For the first time in her life she was going to relay the images that had haunted her endlessly, even though she thought that doing so was the weakest move she could make.

Even though Erik one of the most trustworthy people she had ever known, she had not wanted to expose this very personal part of herself. But now that the pain was so fresh, she knew that she couldn’t restrain her thoughts, and she didn’t need to start weeping on top of it.

Then, after a quiet, self-bruising pause, she began. "I was there; I watched him die. No, I watched someone kill him, and it’s very lucky that the murderer didn’t come after me too because I think he was aware of me and where I was hiding.

"While my father was checking in on me that night, to see if I was sleeping I suppose, he felt someone was coming for him. He quickly woke me up and directed me to the closet on the far side of my bed. I know I would have been sent elsewhere, but his senses hadn’t given him much warning to the intruding presence. I hadn’t even had time to close myself in before the stranger appeared.

"I don’t know who the man was, and I can’t recall his facial features, what he was wearing, or anything else about his appearance. But I do know I became extremely frightened the moment he came into view, and even my father who was a brave man took a step backward; he let out a labored breath and, I’m guessing, he whispered the man’s name, ‘Xcelcior…’

"Then the stranger smiled and said, ‘Corryn… You seem to be aware that I have come to collect what you owe me. I hope you’re willing to pay up. It will make things easier on the both of us.’

"My father found his courage, but his entire body tensed as he replied, ‘I owe you nothing.’

" ‘Ah, but you are severely in my debt, and you know it. You made many promises, and the one that mattered most to me, you failed to keep. You were a fool to deny me. Then, because of you, I lost a very skilled apprentice, and there was no one to take his place.’

" ‘I did nothing to Severin Trundle,’ my father interrupted, but the man countered quickly.

" ‘You stirred within him the desire to betray me. I cannot forgive you for that, nor can I forgive the fact that you betrayed me yourself.’

"Father shook his head boldly and said, ‘I merely came to my senses.’

"The stranger tilted his head back and gave a sinister, disbelieving laugh. Then the room became silent. I could only hear the constant pounding of my heart as I saw my father’s gaze shifting around. I believe he was looking for this…"

Cloudia pointed the lightsaber’s handle in Erik’s direction to indicate what she was talking about. Then she released a great sigh and continued.

"But Father couldn’t find it, and there was an immense amount of satisfaction in the man’s voice as he stated, ‘She’s taken it from you, Corryn.’

"I don’t know why, but I’ve always assumed that he’d been talking about my stepmother Zelda. Of course you know I never really trusted her, but she never gave me any reason to feel like that, so I don’t know.

"But the stranger added, ‘So you see you have no defense. I will begin collecting what you owe me.’

"And then it happened. A bright, electric blast filled the room, something like lightning. My father began screaming in pain, and I heard him hit the floor. I was beyond terrified, but there was nothing I could do. I was only seven years old, and I felt bolted to the floor. It seemed like I spent an eternity consumed by that icy brightness, listening to my father wailing, and smelling the rising odor of scorched flesh.

"But then the light faded, and so did the screams. I thought for a moment that the vile man was staring at me, trying to peel apart my soul with his black gaze, as if he intended to kill me as he had killed my father. Yet he was abruptly gone, and once I determined that he wasn’t coming back, I got up and went to my father. He was dead, and I fell to his side and wept for a long while.

"But that’s it."

During the death scene Cloudia had stopped being able to look at Erik, and even now she couldn’t. She felt somewhat unstable, and the cold that usually came with the dream was upon her, but she sort of felt better. Oddly the tears weren’t as close as they’d been.

"It’s no surprise this bothers you like it I does, and I understand why you haven’t wanted to tell anyone before," Erik stated sympathetically as he walked to where the young woman was sitting.

At this advancement Cloudia stood up and took several steps away from him. She still felt she had been rather weak for not striving to contain herself, and she turned her back on him and folded her arms across her chest, denoting that she was independent enough not to need comforting.

After a moment, though, she turned around, thinking her behavior rude, and she briefly looked at him and said, "I really appreciate you listening. Thank you."

"No problem. You need anything else right now?" Erik asked. He was evidently still concerned, but he forced himself not to approach her.

"No, and besides, you’ve done enough anyway."

"Then I ought to go. My brother’s going to kill me if he finds that I’m not at my post. Sure Grip’s there and she can handle a lot, but you know Urius."

Cloudia had been a part of the organization for ten years now, and she was well aware that Urius Valenteen knew how to run things and that he didn’t like when his orders, even the small ones, were defied. Especially if his little brother was the one being defiant.

Erik was about to turn and leave when he added, "Oh, yeah. I hope you sleep well the rest of the night. We’re going to be leaving pretty early in the morning. That special shipment to Mersigh, you know."

"Thanks for reminding me, Erik," she said, almost groaning as the unpleasantness of the thought rolled into her. "I really wanted to hear that."

"I’m sorry," Erik replied, sincerely, yet tiredly, as he noted his mistake. But then he joked, "Must have been my Jedi potential shining through again… Well, I’ve got to run. Suppose I’ll see you in a few hours. Goodnight."

Within a moment he disappeared.

The young woman shook her head, nearly depressed now, as she went to return her father’s lightsaber to its resting place. But she couldn’t let it go, and she knew that she shouldn’t ever try to. Being so lax was what had cost Corryn Wandry his life, and Cloudia had to remember that if she didn’t want to end up in the same situation. She closed the trunk and locked it, turned off the overhead light, then got into bed, the lightsaber firmly within her grasp.

Yet she couldn’t fall asleep right away. She groaned, unable to stop thinking about having to go to Mersigh again. ‘Force-users’ were hated there, and Joparan of Oxine, the planet’s ruler and chief business executive, would be the one that would show the most prejudice. He always did, but the daughter of the former Jedi Master tried to forget about that. It would still be a few days before she would have to face that ridicule.

***

Trangor L’sa’s sun had just begun to transcend the horizon when Cloudia headed for the main hangar, which was home to more than a dozen of the ships in the famous Death Fleet, including Valenteen’s personal favorite, the Death’s Vein. Of course the fleet itself was really more sinister in title than in fact. The man that had long ago founded the organization had reputedly been somewhat macabre, if not mad as well.

Cloudia navigated the base’s corridors with routine ease. She was dressed in a blue uniform, for all of Valenteen’s main people wore the like to denote their status. Yet each member of the elite had a different style. While Erik’s look gave him a more professional edge, Cloudia appeared warrior-like. Her lightsaber hung from the left side of her black belt—the weapon resting snugly at the thigh portion her form-fitting pants—and she wore her hair free.

No one seemed to notice the young woman as she entered the hangar, but she hadn’t thought they would. Through the Force she had been able to feel the tension within way before entering, though there shouldn’t have been any ill ease at all, and even if she hadn’t been Force sensitive, the racket going on would have tipped her off.

"You won’t see my daughter until I receive the king’s reverse dowry! Do you hear me! I will not be conned by the likes of you or anyone else in this sleazy operation!"

The woman yelling was a local widow named Daria Graysky. She was gaunt, perpetually stern looking, and her hair was a mass of tight red curls. Cloudia had only seen the woman in worn, faded garments before this, but now Widow Graysky was dressed as if she were nearly royalty herself. She was wearing a dazzling emerald-colored gown, the material looked as fine as handspun silkweed, and her neck and work-coarse fingers were adorned with the finest Corellian gems.

Apparently the woman felt like talking as if she were royalty as well, although Cloudia discerned that a mixture of greed and worry might have bred this show. Widow Graysky, in wanting to rise above her station, had decided to sell her sixteen-year-old daughter when she’d heard that Mersigh’s sovereign desired to have a human bride.

It was known that she had sold all her possessions, even her house and the fertile land it sat on, because she knew that Joparan of Oxine would be paying well for the girl, but why hadn’t she received payment? Cloudia had seen the king give Valenteen the Mersighdonian credits; that had been a few weeks ago.

"Look, don’t talk to me like that. You should have what you’re owed. It’s not my fault you don’t." Grip Tarlen responded, stroking her blaster, clearly wanting to use it on the widow.

Grip, despite only being a year or so older than Cloudia, was one of Valenteen’s greatest assets. She was quite intelligent, exquisitely attractive, and absolute hell with a blaster. She wore the jacket of her uniform open, so a low-cut, sleeveless blouse was all that covered her chest, and she almost always had her weapon drawn. So she was quite warrior-like herself. Yet she had a certain spark that made her desirable to nearly all the men who saw her, and she wasn’t so tough as to ignore all of that attention, though she was very selective.

"I’ll talk to you any way I like! I want what I’m owed, and if I don’t get it, the king won’t have his human bride!" Daria Graysky declared as Cloudia made her way toward the bickering women, and as the widow spotted the half-Churyen, she turned and barked, "You! Get me Urius Valenteen! I want to see him now!"

But before Cloudia could do as she’d been instructed, Valenteen came in, looking as charming as ever in his elite black uniform. "Widow Graysky. Is there a problem?"

Valenteen was very sharp looking, ten years older than Erik, and he was decidedly more sly in appearance than his brother. His hair was a sleek expanse of black waves, though he was graying near the temples now, and his beard was as well groomed as a gentleman’s.

The widow was far from impressed.

"Yes, and you should know what that problem is."

"I’m afraid I don’t. Please fill me in."

Valenteen was attempting to keep his niceties in tact. Yet the widow thought the move to be an insult, and she grunted before saying, "Either that Joparan of Oxine is a liar, or you’ve decided to keep his credits to yourself."

"Are you speaking of the reverse dowry?" the organization’s leader said kindly.

"As if you didn’t know."

"Really, Widow Graysky. I’m doing my utmost best to accommodate you, I assure you, and I don’t honestly appreciate being treated as if I’m a common smuggler."

"But that’s what you are, isn’t it?"

"You are mistaken if you believe that," Valenteen said, his calm not wavering in the least as he flexed his self-restraint. "My organization is completely legit." Well, all the members knew that things sometimes straddled the border of legality, but basically the commander was being honest.

"Then where’s what I’m owed?"

"I entrusted the reverse dowry to my Mersighdonian aide, Marzan Rensor. It was his duty to deliver it you, at the very least a week ago. But he can be very forgetful. This matter will be sorted out shortly."

"I’m sure," the widow quipped.

Valenteen turned to his favorite, if not best, lieutenant and asked, "Grip, have you seen Rensor this morning?" She shook her head, and he quickly scanned the hangar.

He saw Erik, and a scrawny, fifteen-year-old boy named Jake Elvne, who was also privileged enough to wear one of the blue uniforms. Jake was good at fixing things, but the only reason he was here was because he was an orphaned cousin of Valenteen’s. Still most everybody knew that the boy was special and had a lot of talent.

"Erik! Jake! Have either of you seen Rensor? It’s imperative that I speak to him!" A negative from both and Valenteen turned to Cloudia. "Wandry, go find Rensor. Do what needs to be done."

The young woman gave a stiff nod and left the hangar. The Mersighdonian would be in his room, she knew, counting the silver credits and dwelling on his new fortune before making a run for it. She could feel that Rensor was still here. He probably thought that he had some time, and he would have had just that if Widow Graysky hadn’t been so apt to reveal her own greedy anger.

Cloudia entered the sleeping quarters and was quickly at Rensor’s room. What was terribly amusing was that he was just exiting the place, and he had a large, bulging sack slung over his shoulder.

The Mersighdonian was much like others of his species. His skin was very red, as if he’d spent too long in the sun—odd because Mersigh had no sun; its energy was extracted from the planet’s core—and thick black veins screamed through the redness, coming together in an odd, grid-like pattern. But what made him slightly different from his kindred was that he was only average human height. Other Mersighdonian males were at least thirty centimeters taller.

Rensor gave a slight gasp and shoved his tendril looking fingers through his messy black hair. He stopped that immediately, and took to smoothing his hand over the chest portion of his loose-fitting blue uniform.

Cloudia wondered why Valenteen had marked this man one of the elite. Perhaps it was because Rensor was supposed to be a mediator, someone interested in trying to preserve the organization’s long existing business relationship with the Mersighdonians, but it was clear that Marzan Rensor had more selfish concerns at heart.

"What… are you doing here?" the Mersighdonian said, fighting his urge to stutter.

"Looking for you. Valenteen sent me." Cloudia’s tone sent an irrepressible shiver down Rensor’s spine.

"Oh… well, I know I should have been at the hangar by now, but I decided that there were a few…ah, extra things I needed… for the journey."

"I see." The Mersighdonian nodded to proclaim himself truthful, but the half-Churyen’s stern _expression didn’t flinch. "But apparently our journey’s going to be delayed. Perhaps it won’t even happen at all."

Rensor gulped. "Why?" he asked, his voice becoming shrill. "His Regality needs the girl by the fifth day of the festival, and we must leave shortly if we are to deliver his property on time." The young woman made no response, merely waiting for him to hang himself. "You all know how His Regality is concerning Mersighdonian ritual. He might… he will chose a different organization if we do not arrive on specification."

After an apprehensive silence Cloudia said, "Yes, that’s clear, but it seems there’s been a slight problem concerning the reverse dowry. Daria Graysky hasn’t received it." The Mersighdonian tried to look confused and perhaps appalled. "Valenteen told us that you were the one responsible for crediting the widow."

Now he did look appalled. "What? Are you accusing me of stealing it?" Rensor’s voice ascended in pitch once more.

"Not yet, at least. Where is it, Rensor?"

"I… I don’t have it. It was stolen from me." The Mersighdonian spat, but then he thought his defensiveness a mistake. He shifted his gaze toward the floor. "I was ashamed to admit my carelessness, and I still am. Take me before Valenteen and allow me to admit my foolishness."

Rensor was not a good liar. "Nice try. Tell me the truth."

He looked up in frustration, his bleak eyes burning as he declared, "I already told you!"

Apparently it was time to take things up a notch. Cloudia allowed the Force to flow through her, and she reached for the Mersighdonian’s mind; this was what Valenteen had meant when he had told her to do what needed to be done. She waved her hand before Rensor’s eyes.

"You will tell me where the reverse dowry is," she stated calmly.

And the weak-minded creature echoed, "I will tell you where the reverse dowry is," before adding, "It’s in this sack."

Cloudia waved her hand again. "You will show it to me and let me have it."

"I will show it to you… and let you have it." Rensor set his sack on the floor and opened it. He rummaged through his clothes and other belongings before extracting a heavy, gray purse. He opened that as well, revealing that the entire reverse dowry was still inside, then he handed the purse to Cloudia.

The young woman released her hold over him, and he sent her a stinging glare.

"I hate you," the Mersighdonian rumbled.

"All of your people hate me."

"Well, I hate you more than they do. I did even before all this, but now look what you’ve done to me. The tyrant could have paid that tidy sum again and again, and he wouldn’t be any worse off. You don’t know how much he has and how little everybody else does even with our help."

Cloudia had more than a general idea, and she also knew that, because Rensor worked for Valenteen, he was better off than most of the common people of Mersigh.

"And now because of you I’m going to get kicked out of the organization."

"Maybe not," she said, and he gave her a distrustful glare. She didn’t want to help him out, being that he’d proven himself a thief. Yet this was his only offense of such magnitude, and she felt compelled to spare him. "Look, I’ll tell Valenteen that you just forgot to give it to the widow. He’s already told her that that’s probably what happened."

"Why do you want to help me out? Do you think it’ll sway my feelings for you?"

Cloudia shook her head. "You’ll still hate me. I’m just trying to do you a favor."

"Really? Well, if you honestly wanted to do me a favor, you’d give me the blasted credits and let me get out of here. Sure I acted like I cared about the tyrant’s feelings, but I don’t. And I don’t care what happens to this putrid operation either."

She knew she should have revoked her kindness then and there, but she couldn’t. Maybe once this most recent business with Joparan of Oxine was finished she would talk to Valenteen about getting a new Mersighdonian aide.

"Quit complaining and come on. We’ve got a job to do whether you like it or not."

The statement seemed to magnify the evident hatred in Rensor’s eyes, but he quietly complied, knowing that she could force him to do so if he didn’t.

***

Widow Graysky’s mood improved tenfold once the reverse dowry was in her hands, and she was quickly out of sight to fetch her daughter. Valenteen didn’t quite believe that Rensor had merely undergone a bout memory loss, but since Wandry had not condemned the aide, the commander took to other tasks as he waited for the most important piece of ‘cargo’ to arrive.

He was finishing the Death’s Vein’s final inspection with Erik and Jake when Grip boarded.

"Is anything wrong?" Valenteen asked her.

"No, but Joparan of Oxine is calling. He wants to talk to you, and probably the girl, too." Grip responded.

"And is Olivia Graysky here?"
"Not yet, but the widow’s got no reason to keep the girl any longer than necessary. Just keep the king busy for a few minutes if you can, and either Cloudia or I can go see if they’re on the way."

"You stay here. Help Erik and Jake finish. I’ll send Wandry out on my way to the holo-link."

And Valenteen was off, first giving Wandry her orders, then making his way to where the sovereign was waiting. He hoped that the widow hadn’t found another reason to keep her daughter. Perhaps the woman would try to seek more money before submitting to release the girl. Daria Graysky was one of the greediest women he’d ever encountered, and he was not going to be pleased if her avarice cost him.

He stepped on the transmitter pad and bowed slightly before the Mersighdonian ruler’s hologram.

"Your Regality, it is pleasant to hear from you. Can I be of service?" Valenteen said.

Joparan of Oxine smiled. He was a towering presence in many ways. He was physically tall like most others of his race, and he had a shine of omnipotence about him, which never seemed to dull. His sleek, crimson garments added to his grandeur.

"Perhaps, Shen Valenteen, perhaps, but first I would like to know how things are proceeding on your base. I should hope they are going well enough that you can leave after this transmission. I will not endure tardiness on this occasion."

"Things are going well, Your Regality… Splendidly in fact. We’re ready to leave this very moment."

The king’s smile widened, for he hadn’t detected the lie. "Good, good. As it should be then. I will leave you now, and we will see each other in a few days time…" Valenteen was about to turn the holo-link off when the sovereign said, "But wait. I should like to see my new acquisition first."

"Yes, Your Regality. Immediately." Valenteen was very nervous, but he was good at hiding his feelings. He turned from the king’s image, and he sighed internally as he saw Wandry bringing the girl toward him.

Olivia Graysky was dressed in a covering, white gown made entirely of Mersighdonian trevvy-lace. She also wore a silken veil that covered her entire face and was made of such an odd material that she could see out, but none could see in.

When the two reached the holo-link, Valenteen instructed the girl to kneel right where he had been standing.

"Ah, thank you, Shen Valenteen," the king said, his sharp, glittering teeth were very evident. Then he began to address the girl. "Female, I want to see your face." Olivia removed the veil, and her beauty was made clear. Her blonde hair shone, and her sapphire eyes sparkled. "Ah, Shen Valenteen has done very well, I would say… Female, speak to me."

The girl said something she had been told to recite. "I am your slave, my Regality, bound in the bliss of your mighty chains. I have no thoughts save yours, and I worship your perfection as I must, for I womanly weak."

"Continue…" Joparan of Oxine mused with ecstasy, and his new purchase obeyed.

***

All of it was making Cloudia ill, and she was glad when the king’s image vanished. Of course she didn’t feel too much better considering that she would soon be seeing him in person, but she tried to remind herself that it was only going to be for a few days.

By the time the Mersighdonian harvest festival concluded, they’d be back on Trangor L’sa, getting ready to make delivery elsewhere. Well, at least she hoped so. Something didn’t seem right, but the feeling was so insignificant and elusive that she wouldn’t dare mention it.

The half-Churyen helped Olivia Graysky to her feet and led the girl to her mother and younger brother Matty. Amid the bustle and ongoing chatter, the bride-to-be said her final good-byes. The widow looked rather detached from the situation.

"I hope you don’t do anything to disgrace me," the woman told her daughter. Cloudia took the words to mean, don’t do anything that will make me have to get rid of the money. Surely there must have been some other emotion under the callousness, but it was buried too deep to be noticeable.

"I won’t, Mother," the girl said with more respect than Cloudia would have.

Matty Graysky, who was dressed in a plain, ash-colored suit, was obviously very saddened, although he tried his best to hide his feelings as he bid his sister farewell. Still the boy could not restrain himself from asking, "Am I ever going to see you again?"

"Of course. Maybe not that soon, but you will see me again. I promise you."

Olivia believed her words, but the chances were she was never going to be able to see her brother, or anyone else she’d known in childhood, again. She was too naïve to know what type of shattering changes were going to take place once she reached Mersigh.

"Okay," the boy said, nodding as he tried to keep his emotions from overwhelming him. He did relatively well, even when he and his sister hugged for the final time.

Olivia also tried to embrace her mother, but the woman would not allow it. The girl felt disheartened, but she didn’t have time to dwell on her mother’s distance.

Valenteen appeared and asked, "Has everything been taken care of here?"

"Yes," Cloudia responded, and the widow gave a curt nod.

"Good…" the commander said. He turned and spotted Grip by the Death’s Vein, and he called to her. "Is the inspection done, and is the other cargo aboard?"

"Yes. We’re ready to go," Grip told him, then she disappeared into the vessel.

Valenteen gave a satisfied nod to no one in particular. "Wandry, take Miss Graysky aboard." And as Cloudia and the girl went toward the ship, Matty waved his final goodbye, and his mother pulled him from the hangar.

Before the commander himself walked to the Death’s Vein, he stopped by another of his ships; one of his favorites, and the deadliest in the fleet. It was called the Corellian Death Ray, and it was a very mean spacecraft. There were very few non-military vessels in the galaxy that could even match it, let alone tear it to shreds in a power contest.

"Riggs," Valenteen called to the Death Ray’s pilot, and the eager young man, who was dressed in a green uniform, stopped the outer-inspection of the weaponry.

"Sir?" Elian Riggs asked.

"As you know, you’ll be following the Death’s Vein this trip, but I warn you, don’t look like you’re following us. We don’t want any Mersighdonian agents to think that we’ve lost our trust for them. Not that we have, but I assume I’m making myself clear."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You’ll land on the Trevesa moon and stay there, either until we leave Mersigh or if we need assistance beforehand. And if we need your help we’ll be using the Delta Security Code. Is all of this understood, Riggs?"

"Yes, sir."

Valenteen nodded to the pilot and pressed onward to the Death’s Vein.

***

The three-day trip to Mersigh was uneventful, and while that was something to be appreciative of, Cloudia was solemn and lost in thought most of the time. Mainly she was reliving a prior experience on Mersigh, the one where she had learned of the people’s ultimate contempt for ‘Force-uses’, and though the incident had happened almost four years ago, it felt like it had happened yesterday.

Drendis Landstraa, Valenteen’s previous Mersighdonian aide, had been relieved of his duties and his life because Joparan of Oxine had caught the man sneaking inexpensive, off-world goods to the working class people; in the sovereign’s eyes this was treason. And so the king chose a relatively unknown man named Marzan Rensor to take Landstraa’s place.

When Valenteen and his elite arrived to accept Rensor into the fold, many working-class youths decided to assassinate the king for executing Landstraa. They ended up killing and wounding a good many of Joparan of Oxine’s loyal protectors, and it was later learned that some of the other guards had been bribed to do nothing in the face of the vengeful act.

Grip revealed her concealed blaster and used it, taking out a few assassins, but in the end it had been Cloudia that had saved the ruler’s life. It was her first instinct to use the Force, and she sent the remaining youths flying backward.

This display left many of them huddled in terror, but one juvenile was so angry that he could not note what Cloudia had done. He lunged toward her, preparing to damage her for aiding the sovereign, and he would have, but without thinking the daughter of the former Jedi Master rose her hand and began to slowly squeeze her thumb and closest finger together.

The wrathful Mersighdonian suddenly couldn’t breathe. In a futile gesture he clawed at his throat, and within a few moments he could hardly stand. Another of the disgruntled young ones left his fear behind and blasted at Cloudia. She stopped choking the first one, and using the Force, her concealed lightsaber slid into her grasp and she ignited it. None would move toward her now.

The king was fearful himself, but he tried to maintain his regal calmness as he turned to one of his remaining loyal guards. "Take these hoodlums into custody, and also arrest the guards who did not return fire in my defense."

"Yes, Your Regality," the addressee responded with military-like nod.

Then Joparan of Oxine pointed above to the looming probe droids, which had recorded the entire incident. "And when you’re through, dissect these probes and transmit the visual data to the proper authority."

"As you wish," the guard said and took to his duty.

"And you," the Mersighdonian ruler said to another of his loyalists. "See that the wounded are taken to the medical care ward and that the dead are cleared from the street as well. Then alert all the families to this tragedy."

The sovereign was obeyed, and soon all that remained with him were Valenteen and the elite. By this time the king’s look of disdain had returned and he glared at Valenteen and snidely remarked, "How dare you, Shen Valenteen. Why have you brought this Jedi Knight before me?"

"Wandry is not a Jedi, Your Regality," the organization’s leader stated.

"Then what is she, using this vile magic?"

"She must have a sensitivity for the Force, but until this moment I was unaware of it."

All this had shocked Cloudia, but she was wounded to find Valenteen lying. He had known about her affinity concerning the Force all along, but he was trying to save his skin. He didn’t want to lose his contract or risk execution.

"Whether or not that is the case you will not bring this Force-user before me again. I will not stand face-to-face with such vileness."

"I beg you to reconsider that thought, Your Regality. She is a great… asset to me."

Cloudia knew what type of asset he meant, even though it was not true. She had never been Valenteen’s lover, but the king didn’t know that. And furthermore Joparan of Oxine could relate to the young woman being such an asset; he, himself, had been attracted to her feminine beauty before she had revealed her Force powers.

"I do not desire to be without her… I’m sure you understand," Valenteen concluded his thought.

"Yes… yes… Very well, you’ve swayed me, but I will not endure this Force-user practicing her grotesque magic before me… ever again."

"I fully understand, Your Regality. She will obey that mandate," Valenteen had assured the sovereign.

And then Cloudia came out of the memory for the final time. Mersigh was now in view, and Erik was receiving landing clearance. As the young woman looked on at the greenish landmasses and azure seas, which lay underneath the golden blanket that was the solar dome, she felt as if someone’s fist had pounded into her forehead. She jerked reflexively and lay her hands over her face.

"Are you all right, Cloudia?" Grip asked from a few seats over.

The daughter of the former Jedi Master removed her hands and looked around. Everybody aside from Rensor was looking at her with concern in their eyes.

"I don’t know… I have a bad feeling about this," the half-Churyen responded.

Within a moment a Mersighdonian voice came over the comm system. "The landing bubble has opened. The Death’s Vein may proceed."

"Roger that. We’re ready," Erik said, and he began preparing the vessel for its descent into the planet’s atmosphere.

The entire crew kept silent during the landing procedure. It was as if Cloudia was not alone in feeling that they might be better off walking into a Hutt’s death arena.

***

Erik brought the Death’s Vein down on Landing Pad One, and the entrance of the royal palace, though a guarded distance away, was still quite evident as the crew exited the vessel and stood there, awaiting the king’s arrival.

The grand edifice was made entirely of exquisite crimson and gold stones, which were called jue-la. They had been harvested from a lake in the countryside, not far from the capital city Regalia Staymen, and though this and other bodies of water had been continually sifted through for three thousand years, the jue-la remained one of Mersigh’s most plentiful resources.

Joparan of Oxine, who was surrounded by probe droids and a horde of guards as usual, presently walked from the palace’s columnar entrance portico, down some stairs, which had been build exclusively from the golden jue-la, and onto the sparkling pathway that led to Valenteen and the crew.

The small journey to the off-worlders took about ten minutes. Perhaps it would have taken a shorter span, but the sovereign, who was clad in his most fiery, omnipotent garments, had decided to stroll at a rather leisurely pace.

"Your Regality, it’s pleasant to be in your presence once more," Valenteen said as he gave a somewhat courtly bow.

"And it’s most pleasing to see that you have arrived slightly early, Shen Valenteen… I trust your travel went well?"

"Indeed."
"Excellent, and what of my female? Is she well?" The king’s eyes were narrow slits until he received the answer he wanted to hear.

"Yes. She is still aboard ship. Would you like me to send Rensor to bring her before your Regality?"

Joparan of Oxine shook his head. "At the moment it is unnecessary, but I shall want her soon enough. When I do you will send the Force-user, not Shen Rensor…"

At that moment the king finally removed his gaze from the organization’s leader. He looked over the elite, nearly sneering with bitter resentment when his eyes fell upon Cloudia, but his _expression transformed with interest when he saw Grip.

Then the king said, "Come… let us go to the palace and converse for awhile."

All followed the sovereign’s lead, and though the Mersighdonian ruler was still ogling over Grip, Valenteen spoke. "We have also brought you a gift, Your Regality."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, as a wedding present we are giving two significant loads of spice. One from Kessel and the other from one of the moons of Naboo. I hope you enjoy this token of our esteem."

"Your gift is appreciated, Shen Valenteen, but I know of something I would enjoy more. When the next harvest festival comes and it’s time for me to take another wife, perhaps you could grant me ownership of Shen-lethia Tarlen. I would be most receptive to that."

Grip smiled but allowed Valenteen to speak for her.

"I could do that, Your Regality, but only if you’d grant her back to me when the time comes for you to take another wife."

"That would be unacceptable, Shen Valenteen. A king’s possession must never be trusted to go running across the galaxy without royal supervision. You know that I would never allow such an atrocity."

"Of course, Your Regality, and I understand fully. But I cannot deal with you on this matter. She’ll remain in my custody."

Joparan of Oxine gave an annoyed sneer in Valenteen’s direction, but he knew he had no jurisdiction concerning the situation. He would have to wait patiently if he ever wanted to snare Shen-lethia Tarlen.

Still he wasn’t happy, and he stopped and glared at Cloudia. "Force-user, bring me my female."

The tense anger in his voice was chilling, and though it made the half-Churyen want to protest, she went to retrieve Olivia Graysky, for Valenteen’s sake if for no one else’s.

***

Joparan of Oxine, Valenteen, and the others were waiting in the columnar portico as Cloudia led the veiled Olivia toward them. The daughter of the former Jedi Master could sense that the sovereign’s mood had lightened. She knew that he must have been stroking Grip’s ego, trying to lure the beautiful crewmember into begging to be released from Valenteen’s service. But the king didn’t know that Grip, while she was gratified by his compliments, was intelligent enough not to be seduced by his charm.

The approaching two climbed the small amount of golden jue-la steps and entered the portico.

The Mersighdonian ruler beamed as his betrothed one knelt before him. "Ah, such an appropriately servile creature… Female, tell me what you feel."

"My Regality, I am humble as I should be, and I am in awe to be at your feet."

"Tell me more."

"No woman deserves this privilege that I have been granted, to become your regalia-marcsan, and I am most appreciative that you have placed this honor before me."

"Lift your veil, Female," the king ordered, and when the girl did so, he moaned slightly, unable to contain the thrill that consumed him. "Your hologram does you no justice…" the sovereign added, his voice quaked with desire.

Then he turned to Valenteen and said, "Shen Valenteen, I cannot deny your eye for beautiful females. All the proof one needs is in this very portico. The young one at my feet, Shen-lethia Tarlen," Joparan of Oxine’s smile grew there but faded as he pressed on, "And even the Force-user, whom you definitely must have chosen for her looks. A man like you could have no interest in her vile magic."

"Indeed. Thank you, Your Regality."

At Valenteen’s words Cloudia slipped from the present, remembering the day ten years before when she had met the commander.

She’d been on Coruscant, working in one of the more, though not most, lowly establishments on the city-planet. She was fifteen, but she had been on her own for five years, and she knew that she was capable of taking care of herself, although she was well aware that the task would have been extremely difficult had she been without the Force.

And it had been the Force that had brought her to the glittering metropolis. She had wanted to find the Temple of the Jedi and perhaps be embraced by her own kind. She had heard a great many stories from her father, so she knew that she would be considered too old for training, but after all, she had underwent some instruction. She knew how to be a conduit for the Force, so it was not as if she was ignorant of her potential.

Cloudia had dreams of going before the Council, revealing her petition to Yoda, the wise, old Jedi Master, and the others. Yet something had stopped her. While she could not force herself to leave Coruscant, neither could she force herself to seek out the Jedi, and so she found work as singer in a place called Tell’s.

But she didn’t honestly fit there. The other women in Tell’s employ liked to do a little side entertaining as well, and Tell, himself, had suggested that Cloudia might be interested in giving that sort of ‘entertainment’ a try. Yet the half-Churyen showed her resistance to the idea, and the owner thought she just needed some time to come around, so he didn’t hassle her.

The club was always packed with many unsavory types from all over the galaxy. It didn’t matter the species, and while some just came to get drunk and have a little ‘fun’, others came with the intent to set up sinister, or at the very least, illegal business dealings. Crime lords, bounty hunters, and various narcotics pushers were never in short supply.

Cloudia had never been exactly sure why Valenteen had been in Tell’s that night. The only thing she recalled was that he had been sitting near the far-left corner of the establishment, slowly draining a glass of Corellian ale as he conversed with a Rodian.

Yet she didn’t care why he had been there. He’d saved her from that wretched existence, and for that she would be forever in his debt. But he hadn’t taken her from these dregs for her looks like Joparan of Oxine was apt to think.

That evening, after the half-Churyen had finished her angst-ridden numbers, she sat down at an empty table by the bar and got something soothing to drink. It had been a long day in this crowded, sleazy crater, and she had planned to finish her beverage, go get her week’s wages from Tell, and make her way up to her barely sufficient apartment. Yet fate intervened.

She quickly inhaled her drink and was ready to go about her business when some drunken, gray-skinned vulture sat in the chair next to hers. He placed his scabby hand on her shoulder to prevent her from rising, and his eyes, which were slightly obscured by a blue-tinted eyeshade, were filled with a needy glitter.

"Well, you’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?" the patron slurred, laughing a bit.

"I don’t want anything to do with you," Cloudia stated, but as usual those words were no deterrent.

"I got some credits on me." The slime-ball patted his tattered pocket and exposed his blackened, yellowish mass of teeth. "Bet you’d like to have them."

"No, I wouldn’t. Now if you’ll excuse me."

"Come on, Pretty. I know your kind."
"And what is my kind exactly?" the daughter of the former Jedi Master asked as she reached for her lightsaber, which was concealed underneath the long, black jacket she’d often worn.

"The kind that can show men like me a good time." The vulture’s grotesque teeth and even more grotesque breath were very evident as he tried to push himself closer to his target, and with that Cloudia revealed her lightsaber, though she forced herself not to ignite it and blast it through his eye socket.

"I don’t think so," she said, her voice icy.

"Ah, a Jedi, huh? No way you’re one of those religious fanatics… No way... Now come on, Pretty. Let’s say we find some privacy."

She was going to voice yet another protest, but the moment she felt his leathery lips attach to her neck, she leapt from her chair. And as the cretin attempted to scramble to his feet, she reached out with the Force and sent him plowing into the mirror-glass bar. The gray man was barely injured, and he staggered away, glaring. Yet an extensive amount of glass shattered, and everyone’s attention was grasped. Tell, though, had seen the whole thing, and he was furious.

"What… did you do that for? It was stupid! Do you realize how much money you cost me? You’ll be working free for a few years, or more, to pay me back! Do you understand?"

Cloudia understood all right, but before she could respond Valenteen came to her aid.

"Her time working for you is done," the commander said.

"Who do you think you are, telling me this? She’ll work for me until I’ve got everything I want out of her, and there’s nothing you can do about it!" Tell declared, his pale human complexion became crimson with wrath.

"How about I pay off what she owes and I’ll take her off your hands?" Valenteen said, easily maintaining his calm.

"It’ll cost you a fortune. There’s no way…"

"I’m Urius Valenteen. I should hope that means something to you."

Though Cloudia thought that the name had a somewhat familiar ring to it, it meant nothing to her, but Tell’s cheeks were now fiery with embarrassment. "I am truly sorry. I… I should have known."

"Yes, you should have, but I’ll forgive and forget. Here, take this and add it to the pay you owe the girl. I will credit your account with whatever else you need." Tell nodded, shocked but excited, and Valenteen turned to Cloudia. "I have some business to finish up, so go get your things, and I’ll meet you outside in fifteen minutes."
Within a moment all patrons and workers went back to their various matters-at-hand.

"Why are you doing this for me?" Cloudia asked, trying to put on a suspecting front, though for some reason she trusted the man and knew he’d cause her no harm.

"I’m the commander of one of the chief shipping organizations in the galaxy, and I need someone of your abilities on my elite crew… And between you and I, I also wouldn’t want to see someone of your extreme talent waste away in this rot-hole."

And so that was how Cloudia had come to be in Valenteen’s employ.

It was Joparan of Oxine’s voice that brought her back to the present. "Force-user, accompany my female to her chamber. Ashana, the head servant matron, will tell you where it is… and you are to stay with my female until she is called for the pre-banquet festivities. Then you can rejoin Shen Valenteen and the others."

The half-Churyen felt a tight anger embracing her heart. It would have been one thing for the Mersighdonian sovereign to ignore her or to give her disdainful glares, but he was ordering her, again, as if she was one of his many possessions. She had saved his life once and now she regretted it.

Malice slowly crept into her soul, urging her to bring out her lightsaber and dispatch the king with one violent stroke… But that was the Dark Side of the Force speaking to her, and her father had warned her many times against those malevolent ways.

That was another reason why Cloudia felt that Corryn Wandry hadn’t left the Jedi Order with any sinister intent. Why would he have warned her about the Dark Side if he had embraced its evil himself? Wouldn’t he have pushed her to accept it as well?

"Force-user, did you not hear me?" Joparan of Oxine asked, his tone cutting.

"Yes, I heard you," Cloudia said stiffly, then took to her appointed task.

***

A large crowd was gathered in the secondary throne room, and every object in the chamber was made of silver ornate, another Mersighdonian underwater extract. The ornate was not as plentiful as the jue-la but was particularly overused in the palace’s interior design.

Joparan of Oxine sat on the solitary royal seat, looking out at the nobles and executives that were his privileged guests.

Kneeling on the right side of his throne and looking downward was Pali Matra his present regalia-marcsan. She was a Tendril from the distant planet of Tendril Vidoir, and she was perhaps the most attractive member of her species. Her gray-kissed skin was very elegant and taut, and the five black tendrils that snaked out of the back of her head were like exquisite braids. The beautiful regalia-marcsan wore an unadorned onyx mourning cloak, and she looked as if she were supplicating to her deity, perhaps begging forgiveness for a grave sin.

Kneeling on the sovereign’s other side was Olivia Graysky, and to the girl’s left were Valenteen and his elite.

Cloudia felt terrible for the betrothed. As she had spent time with the girl in the bridal chamber, Olivia had revealed how giddy and unsuspecting she actually was, and the half-Churyen wondered how many of the sovereign’s other non-Mersighdonian wives had been this unaware. The entire ritual was an atrocity.

Suddenly a blue-clad palace servant, a male Mersighdonian, arrived from the side cabinet chamber. He mounted the throne’s platform and said, " ‘The Revealing of the Formers’ ceremony is to begin." The room’s acoustics carried his voice to everyone’s ears.

"First I will announce the thirty-second regalia-marcsan of the omnipotent Joparan of Oxine’s reign… the one who will, tomorrow, receive her dismissal and take her place as one of the Formers… Pali Matra of Joparan of Oxine, Tendril of Tendril Vidoir, come forward."

Pali rose slowly, walked gracefully off the grand platform, and made her way to its far-left side.

"She has failed to produce an heir or carry one within her belly," the servant declared to the crowd, his tone mocking, before he went on to the next. "Now I announce the thirty-first regalia-marcsan of the omnipotent Joparan of Oxine’s reign. Shanta Merlow of Joparan of Oxine, Mersighdonian of Mersigh, come forward."

Shanta Merlow appeared from the side cabinet room with a baby cradled in her arms. She was wearing a flowing linsilk gown, which perfectly displayed her striking frame as she strode before crowd and king. The Mersighdonian woman halted when she reached Pali’s side.

Then the servant said, "While she has produced our sovereign’s offspring, the child is only a female." His tone was even more scornful and enticed a few jeers from the audience. After a moment the announcer continued.

At about the twenty-second Former, Mosg Lentul the king’s chief adviser appeared.

He bent his head very close to the ruler’s ear and spoke quietly. "Your Regality, your third regalia-marcsan cannot be found. We must assume that she has not returned from Lunirsigh as you ordered."

"Disappointing," the king mused.

"Most disappointing, and I mean no boldness or insult to Your Regality, but I must tell you, I believe it was a mistake to send that female on the moon settlement project. It was my father that revealed her as a troublemaker fifteen years ago when you originally sent her, and I agree. You should have her terminated for her ongoing insolence, as my father suggested all those years ago."

"If she hasn’t arrived by the time Yurim calls her name I will do away with her. Otherwise I will give her a private reprimand. That is all, and if you are in disagreement with me I urge you to keep silent."

"Yes, Your Regality," the adviser resolved, then waited to see what would happen.

When the servant said, "I now announce the third regalia-marcsan of the omnipotent Joparan of Oxine’s reign. Aleena Xan of Joparan of Oxine, Ceruelian of Ceruelia, come forward," the woman appeared and took her place.

Every segment of the Ceruelian’s exterior was a tranquil, bluish hue. Her skin, her eyes, her hair, and even her linsilk dress were the same color. Though she was approaching midlife, she had an exquisite loveliness that none of the other regalia-marcsan could match, and she also looked strong of spirit. The other Formers definitely didn’t exude that.

The announcer continued. "This female has produced Narapoj, the heir apparent to Mersigh’s esteemed throne." And everyone cheered as Aleena’s son appeared, taking his place at her side.

Narapoj was twenty-nine. He was as tall as the king was, and because of his mixed heritage, he had purple skin and less evident veins than was common. Many of Mersigh’s young females found him very attractive, but he was not one to exploit that as his father had been.

"Now I will announce Maza of Joparan of Oxine. She is the daughter of the late second regalia-marcsan—Yuline-ga Ryl of Joparan of Oxine, Mersighdonian of Mersigh—and since her mother’s unfortunate demise, Maza has been designated to serve in the household of the thirty-second regalia-marcsan."

Following that the servant announced Resheena of Joparan of Oxine, the daughter of the now dead first regalia-marcsan. He stated that she was now a servant of Shanta Merlow, then the ‘Revealing of the Formers’ was finally over.

After a brief silence the sovereign spoke. "Now that the ceremony is done, I will begin the annual recounting of how our ancestors came to Mersigh. I’m sure that, as always, the story will inspire gratitude in all whom hear it."

The king paused, inhaled a great amount of air, and exhaled slightly.

"Our ancestors came from the planet of Rilli, a planet that all of us might very well live on if not for the way Rillians treated it. To grant their own sick desires they polluted the air, the land, and the sea, and after a century of this constant battering, the planet was hardly livable. It was then decided by the so-called Great Queen Regalina to construct an expansive domed city for the survivors.

"But her foolishness was beyond that of most females. She had her workers use polluting mechanical beasts, which devastated the planet even more than it had been. People were dying with such regularity before the domed city was even half finished that it was decided by many to flee Rilli and find a place that would make the Rillians prosper once more.

"At the time, despite the great reservoir of technology, the Rillian people were not very adept at space travel. So no one knew if they could travel far enough to find their New Hope or not. There were only ten crafts that had been built, and only a few had gotten as far as the planet’s moon. But still there were a hundred survivors that were willing to try.

"The Regalina had wanted to escape the crisis she had caused as well, but one of the men struck her down, not wanting someone of her ignorance to find importance on the new planet. Then the escape began, but most unfortunately seven of the crafts exploded before leaving Rilli’s atmosphere.

"The three remaining vessels traveled space for two standard Rillian weeks. But one of them completely lost power and crash-landed on this planet. The other two ships descended to the surface to help; their power levels were very low as well.

"It was quickly realized that though the air was quite breathable, this planet could not be the New Hope. There was no sun to give energy, and so it seemed impossible for anything to grow to sustain them. They tried to get one of the ships back into flight, but the landing had drained much of the remaining power source, and the little energy that had not been depleted had mysteriously emptied into the ground.

"After a few more weeks of living on rations, small vegetables began to sprout where the energy had leaked from the ship. They were uneatable because the power source had been some tainted Rillian mixture, but it was this that caused my direct ancestor Melcore Oxine to discover how the survivors could continue to persevere. He was a very intelligent, skilled man, and realized that a life sustaining energy must be locked inside the planet’s core. If it could be harvested then the people could endure.

"And so he worked up an ingenious plan, using the ultrasonic waves that were obviously emitted during the failed liftoff attempts. In creating a constant barrage these ultrasonic waves, small cracks were created in the core, and the life sustaining energy filled the soil.

"In the meantime the thirty remaining people lived sparingly on the rations, and when it seemed like those provisions were almost down to nothing, the very first food harvest occurred. It was a joyous day indeed, and that was when this planet was officially called Mersigh, which means ‘New Hope’ in the old Rillian dialect.

"Three-thousand thirteen years have passed since that day, and we have prospered much. We now are blessed with a time of great plenty, and I would also like to give homage to Shen Valenteen and his organization for helping our bounty increase. It was a century ago when Shen Valenteen’s ancestor came to Mersigh in order to help usher us into this golden age, and that wondrous servitude is something I cannot deny."

Joparan of Oxine rose from his throne. It was now apparent that he was holding a purse full of silver Mersighdonian credits, the same sort of funds that the reverse dowry had been made of, and he handed them to Valenteen. "This is original Rillian currency as you know, worth ten times more than face value. It is the only way I can fully express my gratitude for what you, your ancestors, and your employees have done for me and those sitting before you."

Valenteen bowed. "Thank you, Your Regality."

Then the king turned to the nobles and executives. "Now we shall all go to the banquet hall and indulge in the marvelous feast that has been prepared for us." And everyone was apt to comply.

***

The grand banquet table, which was also made of silver ornate, was so expansive that everyone that had been gathered in the secondary throne room fit around it with ease. Joparan of Oxine sat at the head, with Pali on his left and Olivia on his right.

As the table bent to its longest portion, Aleena sat next to Pali. Narapoj was also next to his mother, and after him, the rest of the Formers were seated according to their numbers.

Lentul was the first positioned on the other side of Olivia’s bend—he was glaring at Aleena and looked as if he were plotting against her—then came Valenteen, Erik, Grip, Rensor, Jake, and Cloudia. By the king’s own design the half-Churyen was placed next to the princesses that had been forced into servitude upon their mothers’ deaths.

As a great amount of unimportant chatter went on, everyone except Olivia was dining on a famous Mersighdonian dish called slurn. While the native people enjoyed it very much, it was hard for off-worlders to ingest because it was very grotesque in taste and appearance.

Slurn was a vegetable oft grown in the wettest regions of Mersigh. The bottommost section was soft and looked like a shell, and pouring out of it were many squirming, gray tentacles, which tasted like the foul breath of a sea serpent. And when served warm it was even worse. Yet for some reason slurn was nearly as big of an export as the exquisite jue-la.

At least the red gulif-wine washes the taste away, Cloudia thought as she cut through a slithering tentacle and shoved it into her mouth. She tried to keep her disgust hidden, but that was very difficult. The foul, half-chewed slurn was quivering violently as it went down, and she forced herself to indulge in a little more of the wine.

Olivia was lucky though. Because she was the king’s betrothed she was allowed to have something special. It was a dish called dolche, which contained three thin, white pastries. They were very sweet and though not as filling, most of the non-Mersighdonians would have rather been eating that than the slurn.

Cloudia noted that Pali seemed very sad, and the closer Aleena was aware of it too. The Ceruelian tried to comfort her fellow regalia-marcsan, but the daughter of the former Jedi Master was even more aware of Lentul’s feelings. Though she could not see the bitter look on his face, she could feel his hatred toward Aleena, and she knew that something was going to happen.

Suddenly Lentul cleared his throat and said, "Your Regality." Once the adviser had Joparan of Oxine’s attention he gestured toward the Ceruelian. The mother of the heir apparent turned from Pali, knowing that trouble was brewing, but she refused to panic.

"So what was keeping you, Aleena Xan? Why were you not here when the ‘Revealing of the Formers’ began?"

Though the king had spoken very casually, and though he had no plans to reprimand his third wife before all these people, Cloudia could not help but tense. This is not good, she thought.

"I’m glad of your concern, Joparan," the Ceruelian stated placidly. "I was late because of ill luck on Lunirsigh; it was something that I had no control over. Had I, I would have been here early, for I so desired to see you again."

"What was wrong?"

It shocked Cloudia that the king could be so concerned for a woman. Still the half-Churyen’s feelings would not ease.

"Supposedly, I was receiving assassination threats."

"What! Why didn’t you tell me! I would have done something!"

"The men on Lunirsigh said that they had contacted you and that you had ordered that I remain sequestered in my quarters. But I knew this was not true. They would not even allow me to hear a recording of this supposed message."

"I will have their heads, the liars!"

Lentul squirmed as if he were a slurn tentacle. He was becoming very impatient and angry over the way things were going, and Cloudia could feel his tension. The adviser wanted the king to be furious at the Ceruelian, so much so that His Regality would call for her execution. Aleena Xan had been in the sovereign’s favor for far too long, and Lentul wanted the insolent female to show her ignorance now, so that she would soon be out of the way.

"Why would those men be so foolish? Why would they not tell me of these threats on your life?"

"I doubt the threats were real, Joparan. They wanted me to remain on Lunirsigh, so that I would therefore be disobeying your order. Then you would have to do something about me. I believe they want this because they are hateful that you have given ‘your female’ such power."

"Then how did you convince them to bring you back to Mersigh? Did you threaten them with my wrath? I hope you did because I will have no one undermining my decisions."

"They are still on Lunirsigh. I escaped their makeshift prison and took one of the ships. I piloted myself to Mersigh to fulfill your mandate."

Joparan of Oxine looked shocked. "You flew one of the ships?"

"I am sorry, Joparan, but it was the only way I could obey you."

By this time Lentul was smiling, his twisted pleasure evident until he forced himself to tone down his malevolent _expression. Then he said, "Your Regality, I must advise you to do something. This female has broken one of the Old Laws."

The king, who was still angry and shocked, grumbled, "Shen Lentul is right, Aleena Xan. Didn’t you know that, according to Old Law, it is illegal for a female to pilot a spacecraft?"

"I did, Joparan, but-."

"And didn’t you know that I never amended that law for you?"

"I figured as much, but I was only trying to obey you."

"Silence, Female. You honestly are as foolish as the others of your gender are if you think that breaking the Old Law is obeying me. You must be taught a lesson. Adviser, I desire her to receive the ‘Flogging of the Insolent’, in public. Could you suggest anything harsher to accompany that?"

"Your Regality, I highly suggest that she be put to death, after the public Flogging, of course. I know how you are devoted to the Old Law, and that very Old Law would be disgraced if you called for anything less."

The sovereign had known exactly what Lentul would propose, but he wanted to strike a cord of terror in Aleena, so that she would be more obedient concerning the Old Law. He did have a place in his heart for the Ceruelian; she had labored forth his first male child, and she was strong and intelligent, but even such an exceptional female needed to be put in her place. So he said, "I agree."

"Then I kindly advise you to declare, before all these people, that you will see her dead before the end of the festival," Lentul pressured subtly.

Cloudia knew what the adviser was doing, but there was nothing she could do.

Aleena sat there, stiff and nearly accepting. Yet Narapoj was outraged. "Father, you cannot do this!" the prince declared, but those were the wrong words to say.

"I am the king and will do as I please," Joparan of Oxine spat as he glared at his son.

He harshly tapped his three-pronged eating-utensil on his silver ornate goblet to get everyone’s attention, then he said, "My third regalia-marcsan has broken Old Law by piloting a spacecraft. I have decided that she will endure the ‘Flogging of the Insolent.’ "

All the Mersighdonian males cheered, most that were wed ordered their wives to clap. When the noise died, the king proceeded. "This will happen in public." The noise rose again, and when it dissipated the sovereign added, "And also, on the final day of the festival, the female is to be executed."

The raucous, delighted wails and the forced applause seemed unending. Joparan of Oxine knew that he didn’t want to see his only beloved die, but now that all the people were demanding it he knew he had to stand by his decree. And he should after all. Aleena had broken Old Law, and there were no excuses in the galaxy that could make it right.

"You may go back to your meals," the king stated, and most did so, consumed by vile excitement.

Prince Narapoj was one that did not.

"Father, I know you are king, but this isn’t just. Mother was only trying to-."

"Be quiet, my son, and eat your slurn before it goes unbearably warm."

"I’m not a child!" Narapoj snapped.

"Well, you are acting like one, and I will not endure it."

"I merely want you to hear my point of view, Father!"

"Then I will hear you out, but not now. Go wait in my private study. I will come and listen to your petition after the banquet concludes."

Narapoj glared at his father, but then the prince felt a warm, comforting hand touch his arm. He didn’t need to look to know it was his mother.

Aleena said, "Do as your father requests. I’m sure he will hear you out when the time comes."

Within a few moments the prince had left the chamber, thinking that his mother couldn’t be wrong, but Cloudia knew differently.

She felt that though the king would listen to his son’s words, he would not be open to their truth. He would not bend, lest he look like a weak fool for sparing the Ceruelian’s life, and though the daughter of the former Jedi Master knew that this was indeed terrible, she felt that this was only the beginning of something far worse.

***

Narapoj waited in his father’s private study, carefully looking at the objects, trying to calm the intensity of his emotions. The exercise worked quite well as he scanned the many ancient Rillian texts that had been saved from the Mersighdonians’ original planet. There were histories, children’s stories, novels, and plays; the volumes were probably the best things that the Rillian culture left to their posterity.

Yet the prince became tense once more as he walked from the bookshelves to the holo-link, its horrid red light flashing, revealing there was a message to be heard. To anyone without his knowledge they wouldn’t have understood his anxiety, but this was a spot that often revealed much evil. It was where the Dark Master would speak and give his decrees to the king, and when Joparan of Oxine died it would be Narapoj’s turn to bow before the Vile One. The heir to the throne knew that he’d rather kill himself than endure the Dark Master’s mandates as his ancestors had for a century.

"My son," the king’s voice suddenly sounded behind the prince, and having been caught unaware while lost in unpleasant thoughts, the younger man gasped and spun around. "Sorry to have startled you, but I am here to listen to your petition."

Narapoj forced himself to stand erect. "All I have to say is that Mother has done nothing wrong, or if she has it is certainly not enough to warrant her death. If I were you I would not do this injustice. It is only happening because some men will do anything to see a strong woman pushed from your favor."

"Perhaps, but I am apt to agree that a female doesn’t deserve to be in my royal favor, or in the favor of even the lowliest working-class male. Females are only good for granting a man what he desires, and they have no right to possess any desires other than his."

The prince shook his head. "I know you feel this way about other women, but you respect my mother. That is why you have given her such freedom. Why would you want to take away her life just because some of your subordinates want you to?"

"I agree with these subordinates."

"Maybe I’d believe you if it was another of your wives, but not my mother. Don’t you see, Father, they are manipulating you, just as the Vile One does."

"Watch your tongue, or I will cut it out. I rule the people; they don’t rule me, and as for my Master, he is yours as well. Don’t you forget that, or he will kill you."

"I will not serve him!"

Joparan of Oxine sighed. "Then one of your brothers will have to rule in your stead because my Master will kill you, and believe me, Narapoj, I don’t want you to be murdered as my father was."

"I am not afraid of dying… But enough of this, Father. You must spare my mother."

"Why? I have everything to gain if she dies."

"What!" The prince could not contain himself.

"You heard me. I have everything to gain… Or perhaps I should say that I could stand to lose money if she lives."

The heir wanted to scream out his confusion, but his voice stuck in his suddenly dry throat.

So the king continued. "When it’s time for Olivia Graysky to become a Former she will need an estate to live on. As you know she will be my thirty-third regalia-marcsan, and as you also know there are only thirty estates for the Formers. I don’t wish to waste my credits to build any more, and you know that as well.

"That is why my first two wives are dead. They didn’t commit the crimes they were accused of. I merely needed room Shanta Merlow and Pali Matra."

"That’s sadistic!" Narapoj finally burst.

"Perhaps, but your mother will be terminated in less than a day and a half, and you’ll be terminated with her if you don’t silence yourself."

The sovereign knew that his son would do no such thing, no matter what the cost, and that was the point. The younger man was stubborn, and he’d never bow before the Dark Master. Joparan of Oxine would rather have the prince die by merely having his throat slit than to endure something horrid and excruciating at the hands of the Vile One.

"I will not be silent, Father! This is wrong!"

"Then you have sealed your own fate… Shen Calrim!" One of guards appeared and bowed. "Take Prince Narapoj to the jail; have him incarcerated. He will be terminated with his mother."

"What for, Your Regality?… if I may ask."

"I know you are a friend of my son’s, but kill that loyalty immediately. The prince is being terminated for his insolence toward my omnipotent decree. He will receive the ‘Flogging of the Insolent’, but he will be spared the humiliation that comes with it being administered in public… Take him now!"

Calrim bound Narapoj’s hands, then dragged his prisoner from the study.

Joparan of Oxine sighed. Next to the day of his father’s death this was the worst day of his life, but there was still much that needed to be done. Within a half an hour he would have to go out upon the balcony that faced the main part of Regalia Staymen, so that he might show his veiled bride to the masses, to tease them. It was an ancient ritual. He also had to see his son endure the ‘Flogging of the Insolent’, and after that he would pay Pali a visit in the hopes that she might carry a son and no longer be a disgrace.

But the king realized that there was something that needed to be done before all this. The Dark Master had apparently left a message, and he was not one to endure being kept waiting.

***

Now that evening had approached, the solar dome had been let down and darkness would have almost consumed the entire planetscape if not for the enormous glow-poles that helped to illumine Regalia Staymen. There would have been the magnificent twinkling of faraway stars and their planets, but Lunirsigh was barely visible due to the fact that its mother planet had no sun.

One of the not too distant stars often gave a small sip of light to an insignificant segment of the moon’s western hemisphere, but at this time of year a few of the star’s planets were eclipsing that radiance, making Lunirsigh a void. It was hoped, though, that when the moon settlement project concluded in a few decades that the orb would be ever incandescent.

Valenteen and his elite stood on the city-facing balcony, positioned behind Joparan of Oxine and the sovereign’s veiled betrothed one. Guards flanked the couple, and the obligatory probe droids were there as well.

Yet to Cloudia it seemed that one of the droids, instead of keeping its mechanical eye on the king or the masses gathered below, was staring directly at her. But a droid can’t stare, she thought, unless…

Then, as if sensing the half-Churyen’s suspicion, the probe’s watchful eye shimmied in order to look elsewhere.

Yurim, the servant male, appeared from inside the palace and strode to the balcony’s edge. He tapped a small device, which rested on his plain, white lapel; then he spoke. "The ceremony of Displaying begins, and thus His Regality will speak now." His voice boomed throughout the crowd, its fabricated strength threw those gathered into a frenzy of cheers and physical excursion.

The servant made a backward gesture with his hand for those not yet consumed and the king and his bride-to-be stepped to the balcony’s end. It was pleasing, but also frightening to see how worked up the masses could get themselves.

Though it proved very difficult, those in the crowd fell silent as the sovereign’s electronically magnified voice sliced through the racket. "People of Mersigh, I welcome you." Joparan of Oxine paused, almost uneasy about the high amount of energy flowing through his lowly subjects, but then he continued. "I, your omnipotent Regality, am honored as always to give you a glimpse of the female that I plan to take as my newest regalia-marcsan.

"Her name is Olivia Graysky, and she will speak to you now."

The girl, though timid, spoke. "I am honored to be before you now." Yet she didn’t sound shy in the least. Her voice was distorted to fool the masses, and she sounded quite regal and stern. She cleared her throat, and recited the small speech she had composed. "And I assure you that in serving my Regality, I will also do whatever I can to help those of common descent. I will use whatever powers that my new position grants me in order to increase your welfare."

Olivia’s words were honest, and they would have received much applause, except everyone gathered knew that she would have no power as a regalia-marcsan. Even though she was forcing herself to remain blissfully unaware, she would be taking on the position of indentured servant not office-holder.

Joparan of Oxine’s hand came up and toyed with the girl’s veil as if he planned to remove it. He did lift it a touch, but right as it seemed that he would expose the flesh of her chin, he took his hand away. Some of the audience members, whom had never witnessed the Displaying before, groaned at the king’s teasing, but then fell silent.

"If you wish to see the future regalia-marcsan in her full glory, then come, tomorrow, to the mid-morning ‘Wedlock Ceremony’ in the Great Temple. You will not be disappointed…

"Now there is one other announcement I must make before you go about your business. I am sure that you are already aware that my third regalia-marcsan is going to be terminated on the final day of the festival. I am sure that you also know that it is because she broke Old Law, but also there is another that will be terminated with her, my son Narapoj. His crime was insolence."

At that moment a dreadful, anguished howl broke from the crowd. It was apparent that Shen Calrim had made the unnerving noise, for the guard revealed his blaster and took a shot at the balcony. The projectile hit Olivia’s upper arm, and she let out a pained cry as she tumbled to the balcony’s floor. The laser would have hit Joparan of Oxine directly in the chest if one of the other guards hadn’t tackled Calrim.

By this time much of the crowd was consumed by a violent fever, and some of the people had weapons as well, although the loyal guards took them down quickly with their own blasters. Unfortunately the chaos was a fire about to explode into a riot, and some innocents were fired upon too.

Joparan of Oxine turned to Yurim, about to order him to take Olivia to the medical ward, when Calrim broke free of his oppressors and blasted a hole through the servant’s skull. The king would have been next, but then the angry guard was shot in the back and collapsed into the arms of death.

Still the crowd burned with the heat of Calrim’s friction, but the sovereign decided to quell the blaze with a fire of his own. He snapped his fingers and his probe droids propelled themselves over the crowd; small cannons spat to the surface of the spheres, and a faction of searing yellow lasers launched at the people. Screams became one with the air, and when the probes stopped firing dozens had been injured.

"If it is your desire to riot against me I will order my machines to fire until you have all been annihilated!" Joparan of Oxine blasted, and none dared to speak or do anything against his authority, so he felt free to issue an order to Cloudia. "Force-user, take my female to the medical ward!" But as he whipped around he saw that the half-Churyen, Shen-lethia Tarlen, and Valenteen’s brother had already seen to that matter.

***

Cloudia awoke the next morning, tired and confused. She was in a room that was even more cramped and barren than her relatively small accommodations on Trangor L’sa, but she didn’t know where she was for a minute. Then she realized that she must be on Mersigh, in the royal palace, in a wing that could only be considered servant’s quarters.

And it was following that realization when she began to remember all the things that had happened the day before. That was awful enough, and to make things worse she had dreamt about her father’s death for the first time since she’d told Erik of its contents.

Olivia Graysky was well. The chief medic had quickly attended to her almost superficial damage, and he’d sent her away with the same efficient swiftness. So the wedding, unfortunately, was still going to happen on schedule.

The young woman rose from the somewhat uncomfortable mattress, rubbed her palms across her eyes, and tried to stretch some of the tiredness from her bones. She turned and faced the end of the bed and spotted her own trunk.

She’d wanted to go for the lightsaber again last night, but though she cursed herself for not falling asleep with it in her hand, she had restrained herself from going to get it. It seemed like there was another presence around her, urging her to seek the weapon’s solace, and so she forced herself to hold back.

Now in the restricted gray light, she desired it again, and since she felt no presence save her own, she decided to go for it. But something stopped the half-Churyen.

Draped upon the trunk was the beautiful gown that she had been chosen to wear for the ceremony. The garment was mainly crimson, but in the center of the bodice there was a vertical black stripe, upon which was many gold symbols. There was also similar striping on each arm that extended from the shoulders to the elbows, and they were adorned in the same fashion as the bodice stripe. The only accessory was a plain, black waist sash, which was to be knotted in the front.

There was something about the ensemble that intrigued Cloudia, and she swiftly went about her usual morning activities. Then she finally put the entire thing on. The cold, silken feeling upon her skin was like the rapture of being completely accepted. It sent slight shivers pulsating through her flesh, and it was near the zenith of what she felt when she sought the comfort of her father’s lightsaber.

Thinking of the weapon, she went for it, and once she extracted it from the trunk, she ignited it. There was such a familiarity in all this, as if she were in a place that was hers and hers alone, a stronghold that none could penetrate, and she could imagine Joparan of Oxine looking at her as she was now. He would be feeling such fear that he wouldn’t dare reveal his contempt.

The daughter of the former Jedi Master closed her eyes, relishing the odd intensity of the moment, and then it came. The presence that had been with her the night before, and this time she could heard it whispering her name… Cloudia Wandry… Cloudia Wandry…

The voice was cold and embraced her with its chill. She gasped, and her eyes tore open as she killed her lightsaber’s blade and dropped the remaining handle. The presence had quickly taken its leave of her, but she remained statuesque, feeling contaminated. She wanted to tear the gown from her body, shower again and again, and then put on her familiar blue uniform.

But that was impossible. The room’s ancient comm system flared with lights and Grip’s slightly distorted voice.