441. Manipulation of Emotion - Trychon

"Baldemar! Hurry up!" The younger monk called to his older brother. He continued to dash his way between vines, determined to get there as quickly as possible and, he preferred, before anyone else. He kept looking back to make sure he hadn't lost his company, but he refused to let them slow him down.

"Mannix! Wait up!" Baldemar yelled after him. "What do you think you're going to find anyway? Destroyed trees? More Space junk?" Despite his protests, the larger brother struggled to try to keep up with the pace that was set by the younger more agile monk. "Maybe a dead bird? You know how they get curious about bright lights like you..."

Mannix stopped and waited for a minute for his brother and friends to catch up to him. "Baldemar... I felt it land! You know what this could mean!" He waited for the group to enter the small clearing while he waited. "This could be important! Varth said I had a good sense about things."

"Yeah... we all remember what he said.... and you've been having senses about things ever since. We need to have Varth say that you'll be a great harvester, then maybe we'd get some real work out of you again."

Mannix shook his head at the group before taking off towards the smoke again. He knew he was right this time, even if he'd been over anxious before. Their jealousy had been pretty obvious over the past 3 revolutions since Varth had complimented his senses. Then again, his brother's friends had always poked fun at him before that as well.

It doesn't matter though, he thought to himself. Varth was a very wise visionary who understood the prophesies better than even the town elders. Nobody really knew what had brought Varth to them, but he'd been a blessing... and he'd picked Mannix out of the crowd himself. Even if his family was tired of him by now, he knew he was going to be important.

He was getting closer to the smoke now, and he slowed down to allow the rest of the villagers to catch up to him again. The smoke was pillowing straight upwards above the tree line, making it fairly easy to head in the right direction.

Within minutes, they were walking as a group into the newly created fiery oasis in the normally dense jungle. The heat was rolling back to them through the thick leaves, forcing them to cover their faces as they adjusted. For a moment, Mannix was almost scared to move his hands to see if he'd been wrong yet again. From his side, he heard one of Baldemar's friends cry out. "OH! A ship!"

Mannix lowered his arms and gazed at the wreckage. He couldn't help but recite the part of the prophecy that had been bouncing in his head since he saw the flash in the sky. "From the Stars at morning light".

He heard Baldemar behind him. "Nobody could have survived that..."

440. Manipulation of Emotion - Raezyr

It took the small shuttle nearly six hours at sublight speeds to reach a point where it could jump to hyperspace. Raezyr was so bored, he was half tempted to scrap the plan, dump the shuttle, and just swoop in to Altax IV, vaping the entire monastery.

Instead, he kicked back in the pilot's chair and threw his legs up on the console, and amused himself by asking Aitchkay dumb questions. A human would have long ago stopped answering him, realizing that he was only making fun of them, but droids were programmed to serve their masters.

"So, how come you don't have any little Aitchkay's running around?" Raezyr asked, watching Trychon's small shuttle through the cockpit windows.

"I beg your pardon, master? Am I to understand you are inquiring as to the possibility of me procreating?" the droid said in his synthesized voice.

"Sure... you know how it goes, droid meets droidette, they fall in... what ever a droid would fall in, then get together and literally pump out a few new models... it's a story as old as time," Raezyr said, trying to keep from snickering.

"Frankly, Master, I don't believe droids do that sort of thing, at least not to my knowledge. As for me, I am at my most content state when fulfilling my programming, which of course, consists of..."

"Shut up, Aitchkay," Raezyr interrupted, as the comm crackled to life and Trychon's voice came from the speakers.

"Okay, finally ready to jump to hyperspace. I'm feeding my speed and coordinates to the rendezvous location to you and the Stalker," Trychon said.

"Receiving the data now... Ready on your mark," Raezyr replied.

Trychon counted down and in a flash, all three ships slipped the boundaries of light, with nothing to mark their passing but the remains of a ship owner who, but a few hours ago, had hoped to make enough on a sale that he could send his son to the University on Coruscant.

-------

The trip took several days longer than it would have normally, as they only traveled at the speed the shuttle could manage. Raezyr felt bad for Trychon, sitting alone in the shuttle for a week. Of course, I don't have it much better, with only a droid for conversation, he thought to himself.

They spent the time much the same way, in meditation and study of their tomes. Raezyr had the room to practice lightsaber sequences, and was tempted to access Lord Var's holocron, despite the fact that they had agreed not to do so while separated.

Still, the agreement hadn't extended to the other holocrons, and he played with them for a time, but with no success. He would have thought they weren't even working, except for the fact that he could feel the Dark Side energy within them. Better this way. Trych would be pretty mad anyway, he thought.

Finally the time approached and the three ships exited nearly simultaneously out of super-luminal speed, and into the outer edges of the Bermatrix System.

They picked an outlying planetoid and parked the ships into orbit around it, docking both the Razor and the newly acquired Monk's Star with the Stalker. There they transferred what they might need back and forth between the the ships, while they waited for the appropriate time to make their "landing" on Altax 4.

Vikon had given them the precise coordinates and time of day they were to enter the atmosphere. They weren't sure why it was important, but he seemed to think it was so they waited, and rested until the time came.

Having made the proper, or improper adjustments, Raezyr and Trychon gave orders to Aitchkay to shut down and plug in aboard the Twilight Stalker and then boarded the shuttle, leaving the Razor still docked.

They could see the line separating night from day almost near the location they were to land as they approached the green and blue planet. "You ready for this? Strap in because it's going to be rough."

Trychon double checked the straps holding him in the co-pilot's chair and gripped the arm rests as tightly as he could. Even with his limited flying skills, he could tell they were coming in too steeply, but according to plan.

Raezyr reached forward and flipped several switches as they neared the planet's atmosphere, and the shuttle suddenly lurched as it's engines began squealing at an alarming pitch. The ship began to shake, and Raezyr gripped the steering yoke tightly in both hands after switching the comm to an emergency frequency.

"Mayday, Mayday! Can anyone read me? This is the Monk's Star, we are going down, I repeat we are going down!" Raezyr yelled over the rattling, vibrations and violent screeching.

Trychon was sure they were going to fly apart. He could feel the temperature rise as flames began to appear in the transparisteel canopy in front of them.

On the surface, a lone figure looked up his meditations in the monastery gardens and watched as a fireball streaked across the early morning sky. His eyes followed the fireball as it descended rapidly and plowed into the forest just a few kilometers away.

Quickly he gathered his blue robes and ran to wake his brothers. If anyone survived that crash, they would need medical attention, and quickly.

439. Manipulation of Emotion - Trychon

Trychon headed to the designated spot he was to meet their contact for the shuttle. It didn't take long for him and the man to make eye contact, the man could probably see him looking around, as he was trying to be obvious enough about it, and had walked in his general direction, feeling his inquisitive gaze through the force.

The man walked up to him with no attempt at trying to be discreet. Trychon figured that could be good as well as bad, but he was not concerned either way. The man was clearly a bit older, as the years had steadily added silver to his hair, but he carried himself like a man no older than Trychon himself. He greeted Trychon and shook his hand, offering his name and not receiving one back as Trychon pointed to a shuttle that seemed to match the description he had. "That it?"

The man nodded and smiled at him, but then after a short discussion insisted that he needed proof of Trychon's intent to purchase. The Sith complied, showing him a credit transfer request, pending but verified. The man's smile became genuine, and he outstretched his arm in the direction of the shuttle, gesturing for Trychon to lead the way.

They approached the small transport and Trychon kept his eyes on it, searching for anything that seemed out of place. It was indeed an older shuttle with some wear on it, but it had the look of steady maintenance. They walked around the ship, with Trychon checking various parts of the ship visually, and feeling for any sense of deception. Not getting any unusual waves of emotion from the owner of the ship Trychon nodded with satisfaction.

Trychon gestured to the ramp, insisting that his new acquaintance lead this time. "Shall we?" He asked. The man nodded back at him, and walked up the ramp, keying in a code on the outer door which opened to allow them access. Trychon walked up the ramp, and looked around the various parts of the ship, being much less thorough than with the exterior. The inside of the shuttle was pretty sparse, but also rather small. It would be uncomfortable for two people that weren't fairly familiar to go on a lengthy trip in such a transport, not that it mattered to Trychon and Raezyr.

Trychon walked the short distance up to the cockpit, which was also nominally smaller than what he was used to on the Jet Razor. Fortunately, it was enough to remind him to sit in the pilot's chair rather than the co-pilot's. He pressed several of the controls, mentally preparing himself to fly it out of the system on his own. "Everything seems to be in good working order." He thought aloud.

"I'm sure you'll find everything is indeed up to standard." The man assured him.

"One can never be too careful though, can he?" Trychon asked rhetorically as he connected his datapad to the computer. The man began to protest, but Trychon was quick to show him the screen. "Just a simple diagnostic. The eyes aren't perfect." The man was clearly unsettled, but stopped short of doing anything too drastic, still feeling as though he was in control enough of the situation. "Want to go ahead and call control and get us clearance to get out of here?" Trychon insisted with impatience, while making sure not to allow any hostility into his voice.

The man didn't say anything to Trychon, simply reaching over to the comm and speaking into it. "Shuttle to control, requesting takeoff clearance please."

The comm was silent for a moment before responding. "Copy that, Monk's Star. you have clearance and may take off when ready."

The confusion on the man's face was priceless as he mouthed to himself the name that Control had referred to his shuttle. Monk's Star? He asked himself as he turned to look at Trychon.

The snap-hiss of the black blade extending from Trychon's hand overran any noise the man may have started to make in startled surprise as the weapon cut into and through his forehead and out the back of his skull. In less than a second, the blade was retracted again, and the man's body fell lifelessly back into the chair.

"I know. Needs work. Let me know if you come up with a better name." The Sith told the body as he urged the shuttles engines carefully into a gentle takeoff.

438. Manipulation of Emotion - Raezyr

The fight was was furious, but it lasted only moments, and ended when Raezyr suddenly stepped back and shut his blades off. "Your hate, your anger, your... emotion... has made you powerful. Those strikes were stronger than anything I've ever felt from you, but they were sloppy. You have to learn to channel that passion, but you cannot sacrifice control.

"Let your anger consume you, but control it, direct it. Use it on our enemies," Raezyr said, then walked to his door and went in.

Trychon stood for a moment and digested what the younger Sith had told him. Deep down, he knew Raezyr was correct, but the pain was still too recent. He shut off his lightsaber, suddenly aware that it was still humming in the empty hallway. He looked up and down the corridor to see if anyone had noticed the brief skirmish, but it didn't appear so.

An hour later found them loading their belongings onto Raezyr's ship. Aitchkay had informed them that no one had been snooping around the craft while they had been away, although they hadn't expected anyone to be.

They discussed the final details of their plan as they did a quick walk-around of the Jet Razor. Thirty minutes ago they had contacted a man who was advertising the sale of a single shuttle. It was a cheap one, and old, and the seller had informed them it wasn't in the greatest condition, but that it was still capable of hyper speed travel.

"Are you sure this will work?" Trychon asked for the third time. "It just seems way to simple to me."

"I can't be 100% sure. No one can, really. Just ask him to take you on a test flight after looking the thing over. He'll probably want to verify you have the credits first, but that won't be a problem, since we actually have the funds to purchase the thing out right."

"But he'll know I'm no pilot. I can fly it, sure, but I don't know what I'm looking for when I go over it," Trychon said, playing more of the "Sith's advocate," than voicing any real doubts.

"All the better. He'll be anxious to get the sale done. You've seen me do the walk-around and pre-flights a hundred times, just try to look like you know what you're doing," Raezyr explained.

"Besides, you have to be the one to go. He'll probably only have some sort of temporary transponder signal, and you have to slice the system quickly and upload a new one, or Den Var Space Command will be all over us," Raezyr concluded.

Trychon checked his chrono. "About that time. I better head toward the specified landing pad."

The two Sith brothers shook hands. "I'll see you space-side, Trych. May the Force serve you well."

437. Manipulation of Emotion - Raezyr

After a while, Trychon and Raezyr found themselves at the Sabacc tables, and spent most of the evening there.

For the first while, they played as the game was supposed to be played, but eventually couldn't resist the temptation and began conversing with one another, discussing what cards they had, and using the Force to intuit how they should play. As the night wore on, they got better at coordinating their strategies, and soon they were up significantly, and had won enough money to pay for their rooms, meals, and drinks, while still leaving them considerably richer.

Finally, after the hour had grown late, they hired a private shuttle to take them back to the hotel. "You know, there were times when I could almost see the other players hands," Trychon commented when they had arrived.

"Same here. We'll have to work on that for next time, but right now we need to discuss tomorrow, and figure out a plan," Raezyr said.

They went over a few possible ideas and after finally settling on one, they turned in. Raezyr meditated a bit, then crawled into bed. As he was falling asleep, he sensed Trychon was having more of those dreams. A few times he had "peaked" in, using their connection to the Force to see what they were about, and had come to realize just how badly Trychon blamed himself for Kord's death. Raezyr always hated the nights that the dreams came as the next morning Trychon was always distracted and melancholy.

Sure enough, as they were having breakfast in a the hotel's restaurant, Trychon sat sullenly, poking his fork at his food, and pushing it around his plate. He hadn't said but a couple of words since meeting his younger brother at the table.

Finally, Raezyr couldn't stand it any longer. He had been trying to smooth out the wrinkles in their plan, and Trychon hadn't heard a word he'd been saying. "You need to Sith up, Trych. People die. You've seen them die. Get over this."

Trychon looked up and stared at Raezyr. "People die, yes, but they've died because we decided it. Kord was different."

"No. He wasn't, and no matter how much he looked up to you, his life was unimportant," Raezyr said as he took another bite of his breakfast.

"We may not have known him long, but I cared about him. I've never lost someone I've cared about before, not when when there may have been something I could have done to save them," Trychon said setting his fork down.

"Welcome to the club then," Raezyr said. His own thoughts drifted back to when his first Master had been slain by the Jedi.

Many nights he had lain awake, thinking about that fight. They had been cornered in the ruins of Taris by four of them. Raezyr had engaged the padawan and had fought hard, eventually removing the padawan's hand and running her through. Master had taken on the other three, managing to kill one and disable another, but Raezyr had turned just in time to see the last one strike her down. At that point his only option had been to run.

Stroke for stroke, he had analyzed that fight with the padawan. If he could have just taken him out faster, more quickly, he might have been able to come to Master's aid, and she might still be alive right now.

They got up from the table in silence and made their way back to their rooms to pack. "What do you mean down there by, 'join the club?'" Trychon asked when they had reached the doors to their rooms. He was a bit annoyed that Raezyr seemed to think he knew what Trychon was going through, but a bit curious as well.

"Mind your own damn business," Raezyr replied. "I'm not the one letting the death of some dumb kid get to him. Just get your head back in the game."

Trychon bristled up, his face twisting into a mask of fury, and his hand dropping to his lightsaber hilt.

"This what you want?" Raezyr sneered, grabbing his own hilts, and they both ignited their blades. "Fine, have it your way," he said.

The red, blue and black blades screeched and hissed as they clashed in the hotel corridor.