A curious gift had arrived on Messala’s doorstep shortly after the invasion of Korriban. Supposedly from the late Adrian Vandiir, it was a beautiful
crystal shot through with streaks of blue, green, and gold reminiscent of
spectrolite, but at first glance appeared to be little more than an attractive paperweight. That is, until he began to whisper to him.
Messala… Messala… Messala!
“
What? Who’s there?” the Half-Bothan demanded, turning round in his desk chair. Seeing no one around, he reached out with the Force—and detected the hum of a strange energy radiating faintly from the crystal.
How dare you right me off as a paperweight! If you weren’t always wearing that blasted Force Void ring, you’d have known from the start what I was!
He had taken the ring off only minutes ago. Messala reached out to seize the crystal, only to receive a mild electrical shock. He recoiled, shaking out his stinging claw, then snarled, “
What the devil can you do, then?”
I tell the future, you fool!
Time seemed to stop its eternal crushing march. Messala stared at the gem, his heart racing. “
Adrian, you magnificent bastard,” he whispered, directing his gaze heavenward (although
AMCO
was probably somewhere down below) before commanding, “
Tell me my future, then.”
Not until you fulfill my request.
“
What request?”
Show me… a picture.
“
You don’t even have eyes to see with,” Messala replied with a smirk. “
But I’ll humor you. What picture do you want to see?”
A picture of you from before.
“
Before what?”
Before!
The word came out in a hiss. Messala shivered.
“
Very well.”
Picking up his datapad, he conjured up an image of himself taken some thirty years ago in Tevye’s Circus. It was not a very flattering photograph to begin with, having been snapped under the harsh twin-sun lighting of noon on Tatooine, but there was nothing nice to say about the youthful Messala’s countenance to begin with. The beast in the picture defied description, covered in strange growths that rendered it barely recognizable as humanoid—even beside the other freaks and oddities who had populated the circus. Messala avoided looking at the image, afraid of the anguished memories it would bring back, but quickly turned the screen around to face the crystal.
He could’ve sworn the Oracle Shard purred in contentment.
Oh, you were grotesque. How can you revel in ugliness now, and yet shrink from this glorious hideousness?
“
It’s an acquired taste, one that I didn’t have then,” Messala replied, setting the datapad aside with its screen facing down. “
But enough. I fulfilled your request. Now tell me my future.”
~~~
Gear:
Paranoia |
Regret |
Suspicion |
Auger Personal Shield
The Oracle Shard’s fortune had led him to Sivvi, the asteroid-turned-moon of Thule.
Thule was a planet right smack in the middle of the Sith Empire, which Messala believed was soon to die, crushed by a war on two (possibly three, if the Silver Jedi could get their act together) fronts. It was time to look into other options.
Approaching the breach in the valley, he found himself reminiscing about a similar crawl into the underground. That was how he had first encountered
Arctus Silmar
on Onderon. How the Sith do love their metaphorical descents into hell.
He crept into the darkness, enjoying the cool faint breeze that blew up to greet him the further he went. Ah, and there was a lake so perfectly still it reflected the dangling stalactites overhead, making this section of the caverns look like the yawning jaws of an exogorth.
Sensing no one else around, Messala approached the water, picked up a stray pebble, and skipped it across the lake, creating ripples that dissipated as they echoed out to the edges of the pool.
