Another long night.
It always turned out that way. What was supposed to be a few hours of research turned out to be yet another rabbit hole for the Sword of the Jedi. He couldn't help himself anymore. Whenever he found something tangible to tug on, he pulled. It wasn't a conscious decision. The answers he sought awaited him just around the corner. Only one more click, only one more document, only one more old recording... one more recording turned into ten more. Seconds to minutes. Minutes to hours. Before he knew it, he could hear the screeching call of his alarm in the other room.
5:00 AM. Already.
"Dammit," Ryv grumbled.
He pushed away from his desk and looked about the empty study with a frown. Pictures lined the walls. Images of his friends, some lost to the war, others lost to time. Maynard and Loske looked out at him from one such memory. It wasn't anything special. A night out on the town following the events of Bastion. Well, the first time.
Ryv reached out to take the framed photo from the wall, only to stop inches from the green-tinted, copper edge. Another picture called to him. Another memory.
Lanik Dawnstar, knighted at his side, resting casually against the wall following one of their many training sessions. The hours-long sparring didn't even seem to phase him, unlike Ryv, who at that moment was on the ground, barely keeping it together. Red-faced, gasping for air and covered in a thick layer of sweat. If that didn't sum up the kiffar's experiences from the time he returned to Coruscant to now, nothing else could.
A sigh escaped the bleary-eyed Jedi Knight, followed closely by a rumbling from his stomach.
"Dammit," he repeated.
Muddled yellow light seeped out into his kitchen, alongside a blast of cool air from his fridge. Aside from a half-empty jug of juice and a bowl of something squishy, it was empty.
Ryv took them both without complaint.
He dug into his breakfast Jell-O, eyes locked on another memory pinned to the refrigerator. He and Zaavik by their bikes after a ride to the Temple, laughing about some half-baked joke about crappy fast food service. They made one too many pit-stops at the local Hutta Burger back then. It gave them an excuse to goof around. Take a break from all the nitty-gritty of the war.
Now Zaavik was gone too.
After what happened to Bastra, Ryv should've known. He shouldn't have taken it so lightly. Killing the former senator was the most apparent call for help, but Ryv hadn't heard it. He couldn't tear his mind away from...
Bastra.
The Senate.
Ryv's eyes widened, and he pushed himself to his feet. He hurried back into his study and practically dove into his chair. It took several minutes, but he eventually managed to work his way through a backlog of outgoing transmissions from the Grand Convocation Chamber. Or something adjacent.
"There it is," Ryv murmured.
A string of calls made on a month-to-month basis. Private line, only accessible to senators and their staff, right from the upper levels of the Grand Convocation Chamber itself.
For months he warned them all. The Senate could not be trusted with the affairs of the Circle. The SIA was out for themselves. Letting their operatives in could only damage the order's integrity. Everything the Alliance stood for, really stood for, was a mockery of what the Code demanded of the Jedi. For many within the upper echelons of galactic society were greedy, prideful beasts. Control was the goal. Power, the means.
Ryv dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A few quick taps later, he had it pressed to his ear, waiting patiently for an answer.
"Hey, this is Dago-"
"Dagon, listen to m-" Ryv began.
"When you hear the beep, hang up and text me instead."
Beep.
Ryv stood silently for several long seconds after the beep, his eyes locked on the sprawling cityscape before him. He frowned.
"I made the connection, Dagon. The Maw, the Sith, the Senate... I think I figured it all out," the kiffar hurried through his home with the intensity of a storm as he spoke. "I need you to meet me at the Grand Convocation Chamber ASAP. I'm onto something, man."
With that, Ryv hung up and hurried out the door.
Smoke rose in thick clouds of black into the Coruscant sky, disappearing into the still gray sky. Hundreds of speeders already crowded the sky lanes as people hurried to and fro. The sun had yet to rise entirely, but the people of Coruscant were well into their day. This was the norm for the center of the galaxy. No time to rest. No relaxation. You moved from one day to the next without hesitation.
Ryv set down his speeder bike at one of the Senate Hall's numerous private garages. He killed the gas and hurried towards the turbolift, throwing his gray poncho around him as he went. His lightsaber hung from his belt, hidden away with all the other goodies he'd need to find what he sought.
Answers. The truth.
The lift shifted beneath him before it shot upwards at breathtaking speeds. Within seconds, the Jedi Knight could see for miles out ahead of him. Galactic City, his home. The place where it all began. He pressed a bare hand to the glass. He yearned to feel something like before. The beating heart of Coruscant. The endless stampede of billions marching along the ecumenopolis' surface.
Nothing greeted him. He sighed.
The door opened behind him, beckoning the Jedi onward.
He turned and moved out without a word to those who entered after him. They smiled at him, happy to see the Sword of the Jedi out and about. He made them feel safe. He was a hero to these people. And all he could do was nod in turn.
It didn't take much to reach his destination. Both Ryv and Auteme were common within these halls. Numerous visits to speak before the Senate, to explain the war effort. To communicate what the Jedi would be doing. Reporting on their whereabouts, their plans, their goals. Transparency for the Chancellor's sake. Emmen and Adhira had placed their faith in the New Jedi Order. Neither the Sword nor the Shield could let them down. They fought endlessly to meet every demand.
"It was all meaningless, wasn't it?"
Ryv stopped in his tracks. He spun a full circle in search of whoever just spoke, only to find an empty hall. Even the facility's staff went unseen. He expected a specter to appear. A manifestation of some fallen Jedi's will. To guide him, or more likely, to warn him. But there was nothing. It was only an empty gray hall, as shiny as the day it was reconstructed underneath the Grayson Imperium's watchful eye.
Lingering only a few seconds longer, he offered one last cautionary glance down the hall behind him before continuing.
The corridor opened into a sizeable chamber. It was circular with a smaller desk within the center, staffed by two people Ryv couldn't recall. One continued to tap away at the holopad before her, while the second, a male human, waved Ryv down. Recognition dawned in his brown eyes a split-second later, leading to a wide smile.
"Well, if it isn't the Sword of the Jedi!" he clapped his hands together once. "What can I do for you today, Master Jedi?"
Ryv winced. "Er," he leaned in close, elbows rested atop the desk. "Is senator Fossk in?"
"One moment," the attendant pulled up a holographic display between them and gave it a thorough once over. Then, after nearly a moment, the man lowered it and shook his head. "It appears he has an appointment off-world at the moment. Would you like me to schedule a meeting with him for you? Perhaps phone his aid?"
The Jedi Knight quickly shook his head. "No need. I'll just go on back and meet her myself."
"I'm sorry, Master Jedi, but without an appointment, I can't let you back there."
Ryv raised a hand to his face and gently massaged his temples. "You know," he waved his hand through the air before the man's eyes. "I wanna say my padawan scheduled an appointment for his aid. It's right there, isn't it?" he pointed to an empty space on the holo-display.
"Oh, silly me," the attendant's words came out slowly, almost as if he were coming out of a daze. "I must've missed it. Senator Fossk's office is the third door on the right," he motioned towards an adjacent hall.
"Thank you," Ryv nodded and moved down the hall immediately. "Third door on the right," he mumbled, counting each threshold until he eventually reached his destination. He engaged the terminal with a quick click of a button and watched as the door slid open.
The dimly lit interior was far from welcoming. Sealed blinds kept any light from piercing into the room, but the Jedi could still make out the built-up dust on a small table beside the door. Small plumes of grime bounced into the air with each step, disturbed for the first time since the last transmission made from the office nearly a month ago. A separate door led into another room, this one just as dirty as the previous one. Only a holo-terminal on the opposite wall populated the space. No tables or desks.
Carefully, he passed through the room with an outstretched hand. This was it. It all led to here. Every unexplained event. Every strange coincidence since the return. Ryv took a deep breath and pressed a hand against the cool metal surface.
Flashes of memories.
Darkness, always darkness. The terminal appeared to exist in a state of perpetual night. Silence filled the space. Emptiness marked the passage of time, gauged only by the slowly growing mass of dust covering every surface within the area.
Something burned within the room. Hatred, maybe. Joined by pain, spite, and loss. It lit the room in an even darker light, bathed in red and gray shades that reminded Ryv of the worst of the war. Silent screams heralded the arrival of a slow-moving, black-garbed individual. If not for his clothing, he'd come off as unassuming. But the Jedi knew better. The Sith, in all their profane glory, hid behind that black veil. It protected them from the truth. The light.
A pale hand pressed into the device, and it whirred to life. More pain flooded into the chamber. Distant screams sounded. Screams so full of pain and loss, cries of the broken who only sought death. Someone stood on the other side, but Ryv could not make them out. They, too, were shrouded in shadow, hidden from view from any onlookers brave enough or foolish enough to wander into the monster's den. The pale-handed man's lips curled back into a cruel smile, one born of that very same pain felt by all familiar with the Brotherhood. His lips parted as if to speak.
And then that pain became all too real.
Ryv sucked in a quick breath as pain exploded within his side. He stumbled against the terminal, falling to the floor with a grunt. His remaining hand fell to his burning side to find warm, scarlet blood running down his body. His stomach churned, his chest hurt, and the room began to shift and move around him.
"Well, I would say this is a surprise, but I would be lying," a feminine voice cut through the kiffar's pained breathing.
"W-Who," he tried to push himself to his feet, only to fall to one knee.
An ornately dressed woman stepped out from the shadows. Her dusky skin and shaved head marked her as an outsider to Coruscant.
"I wouldn't be too hasty, darling," she smiled through chocolate-colored lips. "It be a waste for you to bleed out before security arrives. Just sit still and allow me to take the pain away," she stepped closer and placed a hand on Ryv's forehead. "Don't be afraid. Everything will be okay. It will all be fine."
Ryv weakly pushed her hand away and stumbled past. He crashed through the door back into the office's main room. Losing his footing, he tumbled towards the floor, knocking two chairs away in the process.
"Why are you fighting this?" she asked, following but a few steps behind him. "I can help you, Master Jedi. I can take away the pain," her words assailed his mind with an intensity that matched the burning in his side. "I've heard the stories, Karis. They say a Sith Lord ripped your arm clean off, and you survived," she smiled sweetly. "I want to test how far these claims truly go, and we only have a few minutes."
She stepped up once more and pressed a hand against his head.
This time, Ryv struck out. He pushed forward with his now bloody hand and sent a wave of telekinetic energy towards the woman. She flew back, crashed through a window, and spiraled head over heels below. A second later, he heard the sound of a loud crash, wood splinter, and a series of screams cut through the morning tranquility.
Ryv limped up to the window and looked down. He winced, both from the pain and the sight.
Half a dozen people crowded the prone woman who'd seemingly fallen from above. Shattered glass littered the floor, as did broken wood from a ruined display. Though she lay unmoving, a droid checking her pulse signaled a thumbs up to whoever called it over. Someone with a bit of sense looked up just in time to see the Sword of the Jedi appear.
"Dammit."
It always turned out that way. What was supposed to be a few hours of research turned out to be yet another rabbit hole for the Sword of the Jedi. He couldn't help himself anymore. Whenever he found something tangible to tug on, he pulled. It wasn't a conscious decision. The answers he sought awaited him just around the corner. Only one more click, only one more document, only one more old recording... one more recording turned into ten more. Seconds to minutes. Minutes to hours. Before he knew it, he could hear the screeching call of his alarm in the other room.
5:00 AM. Already.
"Dammit," Ryv grumbled.
He pushed away from his desk and looked about the empty study with a frown. Pictures lined the walls. Images of his friends, some lost to the war, others lost to time. Maynard and Loske looked out at him from one such memory. It wasn't anything special. A night out on the town following the events of Bastion. Well, the first time.
Ryv reached out to take the framed photo from the wall, only to stop inches from the green-tinted, copper edge. Another picture called to him. Another memory.
Lanik Dawnstar, knighted at his side, resting casually against the wall following one of their many training sessions. The hours-long sparring didn't even seem to phase him, unlike Ryv, who at that moment was on the ground, barely keeping it together. Red-faced, gasping for air and covered in a thick layer of sweat. If that didn't sum up the kiffar's experiences from the time he returned to Coruscant to now, nothing else could.
A sigh escaped the bleary-eyed Jedi Knight, followed closely by a rumbling from his stomach.
"Dammit," he repeated.
Muddled yellow light seeped out into his kitchen, alongside a blast of cool air from his fridge. Aside from a half-empty jug of juice and a bowl of something squishy, it was empty.
Ryv took them both without complaint.
He dug into his breakfast Jell-O, eyes locked on another memory pinned to the refrigerator. He and Zaavik by their bikes after a ride to the Temple, laughing about some half-baked joke about crappy fast food service. They made one too many pit-stops at the local Hutta Burger back then. It gave them an excuse to goof around. Take a break from all the nitty-gritty of the war.
Now Zaavik was gone too.
After what happened to Bastra, Ryv should've known. He shouldn't have taken it so lightly. Killing the former senator was the most apparent call for help, but Ryv hadn't heard it. He couldn't tear his mind away from...
Bastra.
The Senate.
Ryv's eyes widened, and he pushed himself to his feet. He hurried back into his study and practically dove into his chair. It took several minutes, but he eventually managed to work his way through a backlog of outgoing transmissions from the Grand Convocation Chamber. Or something adjacent.
"There it is," Ryv murmured.
A string of calls made on a month-to-month basis. Private line, only accessible to senators and their staff, right from the upper levels of the Grand Convocation Chamber itself.
For months he warned them all. The Senate could not be trusted with the affairs of the Circle. The SIA was out for themselves. Letting their operatives in could only damage the order's integrity. Everything the Alliance stood for, really stood for, was a mockery of what the Code demanded of the Jedi. For many within the upper echelons of galactic society were greedy, prideful beasts. Control was the goal. Power, the means.
Ryv dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A few quick taps later, he had it pressed to his ear, waiting patiently for an answer.
"Hey, this is Dago-"
"Dagon, listen to m-" Ryv began.
"When you hear the beep, hang up and text me instead."
Beep.
Ryv stood silently for several long seconds after the beep, his eyes locked on the sprawling cityscape before him. He frowned.
"I made the connection, Dagon. The Maw, the Sith, the Senate... I think I figured it all out," the kiffar hurried through his home with the intensity of a storm as he spoke. "I need you to meet me at the Grand Convocation Chamber ASAP. I'm onto something, man."
With that, Ryv hung up and hurried out the door.
Smoke rose in thick clouds of black into the Coruscant sky, disappearing into the still gray sky. Hundreds of speeders already crowded the sky lanes as people hurried to and fro. The sun had yet to rise entirely, but the people of Coruscant were well into their day. This was the norm for the center of the galaxy. No time to rest. No relaxation. You moved from one day to the next without hesitation.
Ryv set down his speeder bike at one of the Senate Hall's numerous private garages. He killed the gas and hurried towards the turbolift, throwing his gray poncho around him as he went. His lightsaber hung from his belt, hidden away with all the other goodies he'd need to find what he sought.
Answers. The truth.
The lift shifted beneath him before it shot upwards at breathtaking speeds. Within seconds, the Jedi Knight could see for miles out ahead of him. Galactic City, his home. The place where it all began. He pressed a bare hand to the glass. He yearned to feel something like before. The beating heart of Coruscant. The endless stampede of billions marching along the ecumenopolis' surface.
Nothing greeted him. He sighed.
The door opened behind him, beckoning the Jedi onward.
He turned and moved out without a word to those who entered after him. They smiled at him, happy to see the Sword of the Jedi out and about. He made them feel safe. He was a hero to these people. And all he could do was nod in turn.
It didn't take much to reach his destination. Both Ryv and Auteme were common within these halls. Numerous visits to speak before the Senate, to explain the war effort. To communicate what the Jedi would be doing. Reporting on their whereabouts, their plans, their goals. Transparency for the Chancellor's sake. Emmen and Adhira had placed their faith in the New Jedi Order. Neither the Sword nor the Shield could let them down. They fought endlessly to meet every demand.
"It was all meaningless, wasn't it?"
Ryv stopped in his tracks. He spun a full circle in search of whoever just spoke, only to find an empty hall. Even the facility's staff went unseen. He expected a specter to appear. A manifestation of some fallen Jedi's will. To guide him, or more likely, to warn him. But there was nothing. It was only an empty gray hall, as shiny as the day it was reconstructed underneath the Grayson Imperium's watchful eye.
Lingering only a few seconds longer, he offered one last cautionary glance down the hall behind him before continuing.
The corridor opened into a sizeable chamber. It was circular with a smaller desk within the center, staffed by two people Ryv couldn't recall. One continued to tap away at the holopad before her, while the second, a male human, waved Ryv down. Recognition dawned in his brown eyes a split-second later, leading to a wide smile.
"Well, if it isn't the Sword of the Jedi!" he clapped his hands together once. "What can I do for you today, Master Jedi?"
Ryv winced. "Er," he leaned in close, elbows rested atop the desk. "Is senator Fossk in?"
"One moment," the attendant pulled up a holographic display between them and gave it a thorough once over. Then, after nearly a moment, the man lowered it and shook his head. "It appears he has an appointment off-world at the moment. Would you like me to schedule a meeting with him for you? Perhaps phone his aid?"
The Jedi Knight quickly shook his head. "No need. I'll just go on back and meet her myself."
"I'm sorry, Master Jedi, but without an appointment, I can't let you back there."
Ryv raised a hand to his face and gently massaged his temples. "You know," he waved his hand through the air before the man's eyes. "I wanna say my padawan scheduled an appointment for his aid. It's right there, isn't it?" he pointed to an empty space on the holo-display.
"Oh, silly me," the attendant's words came out slowly, almost as if he were coming out of a daze. "I must've missed it. Senator Fossk's office is the third door on the right," he motioned towards an adjacent hall.
"Thank you," Ryv nodded and moved down the hall immediately. "Third door on the right," he mumbled, counting each threshold until he eventually reached his destination. He engaged the terminal with a quick click of a button and watched as the door slid open.
The dimly lit interior was far from welcoming. Sealed blinds kept any light from piercing into the room, but the Jedi could still make out the built-up dust on a small table beside the door. Small plumes of grime bounced into the air with each step, disturbed for the first time since the last transmission made from the office nearly a month ago. A separate door led into another room, this one just as dirty as the previous one. Only a holo-terminal on the opposite wall populated the space. No tables or desks.
Carefully, he passed through the room with an outstretched hand. This was it. It all led to here. Every unexplained event. Every strange coincidence since the return. Ryv took a deep breath and pressed a hand against the cool metal surface.
Flashes of memories.
Darkness, always darkness. The terminal appeared to exist in a state of perpetual night. Silence filled the space. Emptiness marked the passage of time, gauged only by the slowly growing mass of dust covering every surface within the area.
Something burned within the room. Hatred, maybe. Joined by pain, spite, and loss. It lit the room in an even darker light, bathed in red and gray shades that reminded Ryv of the worst of the war. Silent screams heralded the arrival of a slow-moving, black-garbed individual. If not for his clothing, he'd come off as unassuming. But the Jedi knew better. The Sith, in all their profane glory, hid behind that black veil. It protected them from the truth. The light.
A pale hand pressed into the device, and it whirred to life. More pain flooded into the chamber. Distant screams sounded. Screams so full of pain and loss, cries of the broken who only sought death. Someone stood on the other side, but Ryv could not make them out. They, too, were shrouded in shadow, hidden from view from any onlookers brave enough or foolish enough to wander into the monster's den. The pale-handed man's lips curled back into a cruel smile, one born of that very same pain felt by all familiar with the Brotherhood. His lips parted as if to speak.
And then that pain became all too real.
Ryv sucked in a quick breath as pain exploded within his side. He stumbled against the terminal, falling to the floor with a grunt. His remaining hand fell to his burning side to find warm, scarlet blood running down his body. His stomach churned, his chest hurt, and the room began to shift and move around him.
"Well, I would say this is a surprise, but I would be lying," a feminine voice cut through the kiffar's pained breathing.
"W-Who," he tried to push himself to his feet, only to fall to one knee.
An ornately dressed woman stepped out from the shadows. Her dusky skin and shaved head marked her as an outsider to Coruscant.
"I wouldn't be too hasty, darling," she smiled through chocolate-colored lips. "It be a waste for you to bleed out before security arrives. Just sit still and allow me to take the pain away," she stepped closer and placed a hand on Ryv's forehead. "Don't be afraid. Everything will be okay. It will all be fine."
Ryv weakly pushed her hand away and stumbled past. He crashed through the door back into the office's main room. Losing his footing, he tumbled towards the floor, knocking two chairs away in the process.
"Why are you fighting this?" she asked, following but a few steps behind him. "I can help you, Master Jedi. I can take away the pain," her words assailed his mind with an intensity that matched the burning in his side. "I've heard the stories, Karis. They say a Sith Lord ripped your arm clean off, and you survived," she smiled sweetly. "I want to test how far these claims truly go, and we only have a few minutes."
She stepped up once more and pressed a hand against his head.
This time, Ryv struck out. He pushed forward with his now bloody hand and sent a wave of telekinetic energy towards the woman. She flew back, crashed through a window, and spiraled head over heels below. A second later, he heard the sound of a loud crash, wood splinter, and a series of screams cut through the morning tranquility.
Ryv limped up to the window and looked down. He winced, both from the pain and the sight.
Half a dozen people crowded the prone woman who'd seemingly fallen from above. Shattered glass littered the floor, as did broken wood from a ruined display. Though she lay unmoving, a droid checking her pulse signaled a thumbs up to whoever called it over. Someone with a bit of sense looked up just in time to see the Sword of the Jedi appear.
"Dammit."
