Private Spirit of Adoption

[Jacen Nimdok]

From a letter written in Shi-idese, given to Pygar for delivery to the Hoole family:

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m sorry for not staying in touch. Know that I am alive and as well as I can be under the circumstances. I’m sure this letter and the person carrying it will come as something of a surprise, but I need your help. Or rather, the kid needs your help.

Remember the stories about how Great-Grandpa Mammon adopted those two kids who were left orphaned after Alderaan was destroyed by the Galactic Empire? They were the children of his brother’s wife’s sister (or were they his sister-in-law’s brother’s kids?), a distant relative by marriage, but he was the only family they had left. So he took them in, educated them, and kept them safe even when the two brats got themselves into all kinds of trouble with bounty hunters, fake Jedi, the Rebellion, and even Darth Vader. In return they kept him from being executed for the destruction he unknowingly wrought upon Kiva. Though they didn’t get along at first, Mammon and the kids gradually developed an affection and mutual respect for one another. He became Uncle Hoole to them, no more and no less.

Well, I now find myself in a similar situation. I have become “Aunt Inanna”, it seems, and this young man is my Tash and Zak Arranda.

His name is Pygar, and he’s a changeling like us. The circumstances of his life so far have been pretty rough, and he is badly in need of a proper home and family to guide him before he can make his way in the galaxy. With my current situation, I can’t provide these things for him—but I know you can. That’s why I’m entrusting him to you.

I don’t want you to think that I’m ungrateful or irresponsible. Don’t look at this boy as a burden being shifted from me onto you. Look at him as a sign of my appreciation for all that you’ve done for me, that I would think of you before all others as perfect parents. You raised my brothers and I well—don’t let anything ever convince you otherwise.

I’m sure he can explain himself better than I can, so I won’t go into too much detail. Suffice to say, he was experimented on and had his mind wiped; his memory only stretches back the last two years. Some of his ideas about life may be pretty wild and crazy, but he’s not dangerous. Please be patient with him. He has potential. Dad, I think you’ll like him especially—he reminds me in many ways of Ari when he was young.

All my love,
Inanna

~~~​

Goshen, Lao-mon
Hoole Family Residence

Tammuz Hoole had been pacing all night. He held his bony, withered hands clasped behind his back as he walked from one end of the common room to the other, his long red robes trailing across the smooth boards. His reflection in the wide window that ran the width and breadth of the chamber was a blurred swath of scarlet and silver on the darkened glass, constantly moving.

Seated at the table behind him was his wife, Lilith. Clad in only her nightclothes and a white robe, she was pale and wraithlike. Her tapered fingers clutched the letter that had arrived earlier that evening, borne by the same strange young man who was currently sitting across from her, his head bowed and his one good eye closed as if in sleep.

The white-haired stranger’s arrival had been sudden and unannounced. Lilith was getting ready for bed; she couldn’t hear the knock on the door over the sound of the high pressure water as she showered, nor was she aware of the discussion that followed as the two moved up to the third floor of the house. But judging by her husband’s behavior and the contents of the letter he had shoved into her hands the moment she came upstairs, the proceedings had probably been hopelessly awkward at best.

She folded up the letter, quaintly written by hand on paper, and slid it back into the equally anachronistic envelope. At this sign of her having finished reading, Tammuz’s steps slowed to a stop.

“Well, wife—what do you make of this?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “I’m just glad to be hearing from Inanna.”

Tammuz nodded, grunting in approval. “What do you suppose she means by her ‘current situation’?” he asked. “Is it that she is currently employed by the Sith Empire?” He glanced at the young man, his voice lowering. “Or that she has smuggled you out at great risk to herself?”

The young man’s eye opened and flicked toward Lilith, hoping for a defense. She sighed.

“At least he made it here alive. And now we have some idea of where Inanna is and how she’s doing, after all these years.”

Tammuz snorted. “We know how she was doing when she wrote that letter. The borders of the Sith Empire lie at the other end of the galaxy. It took you weeks to get here, didn’t it, boy?” He shook his head. “And that was traveling in haste. Anything could have happened to her since then.”

“I told you my name, sir,” the young man said quietly. “I’d prefer it if you’d use it.”

The patriarch smirked. “Pygar it is, then.”

“Wouldn’t you have sensed it if something had happened to her?” Lilith asked, hoping to keep the peace and focus the conversation. “Regardless of the distance?”

“I would have felt her die, yes. But there are worse things than death.” Tammuz spread his arms. “She could be sitting in a deep dark cell somewhere, paying for Pygar’s freedom with her own. Perhaps she has already been slated for execution…”

Aged eyes stared pointedly at the computer desk at the far end of the room. The data chip which Pygar had also brought with him in addition to the letter was still inserted. After seeing what information it contained, Tammuz had felt an immediate need to stand up and move away from his desk, followed by an irrational desire to burn it all and purge his memory of it.

"Would they really execute her for helping you escape?" Lilith asked Pygar.

He shrugged. "It would depend on whether I was deemed a traitor, and if she could be linked to me."

Tammuz glanced at Pygar over his shoulder, then turned to face him fully. “You still haven’t told us how you got that data.”

The Sithspawn hesitated, avoiding eye contact with either of them. “I stole it,” he admitted, rubbing his hands together in his lap. Though the gesture was a nervous one, the corners of his mouth curled up in a smile of proud triumph. “The data chip is mine. I broke into my… creator’s private residence on Dromund Kaas and downloaded the data directly from his personal computer.”

“Did anyone witness you doing this?” Tammuz pressed, knowing the answer would determine how much danger his daughter might be facing now. How much danger they would all be facing...

"Not that I know of. The place is managed by a Tsudakyr, or biological computer system—almost like an artificial intelligence, but it's a literal, physical brain in charge of all systems. They're hard to trick, but I think I managed well enough." Pygar's smile faded. “Though I did leave in a hurry. It was much easier to get in than it was to get out.”

“You were likely seen leaving the premises," Tammuz concluded sourly.

Hunching his shoulders, Pygar spread his hands in a beseeching gesture. “I don’t know—probably. It’s not like I was trying to get caught! I knew it was dangerous, I knew it was a risk, but I wanted word to get out about what Vandiir was doing—”

"What Mr. Vandiir is doing is not something which you or I can stop," Tammuz interrupted. "I would have preferred it if you had not brought me this... bestiary. It's bad enough living in hopelessly violent times without knowing that there are creatures like you and your ilk running amok."

The Sithspawn stared at him. Lilith stood up at once and moved to his side, placing her hands on the young man’s shoulders.

“We’ve been inconsiderate hosts,” she said soothingly. “You must be very tired, having journeyed so far. Come on, I’ll show you to your room…”

Tammuz turned away as she led the boy downstairs to the guest room, clenching his jaw in restrained anger. He gazed through the window at the wilderness beyond, and permitted himself to feel the waves of stiff-lipped anger and suffering still pouring out of the retreating Pygar through the Force. Already he regretted his words, but he could not bring himself to apologize. Quite frankly, he saw the data chip as a horrible burden being heaped upon him in his old age, one that he didn't want and didn't deserve.

Minutes later Lilith ascended the stairs alone, having put Pygar to bed. Rather than resuming her seat at the table, she approached her husband, standing at his side. “I thought you said you didn’t want any more children.”

He snorted, one corner of his wrinkled mouth curling upward. “Eight ought to be enough.”

“Well, what’s one more?” She rested her head on his shoulder. “Don't be so hard on him. He had no choice in the matter of what he is."

"I don't resent him. I resent the responsibility being foisted upon us."

Lilith sighed. "Well, at least he’s fully grown—if Inanna had sent us a baby, it would be another story.”

“I’m afraid she’s sent us more than that,” he said darkly. “The Sith will come here searching, if not for him, then for the data he stole. They will not care about the spirit of adoption.”

“So, do we hire a few bodyguards? Spend money on a fancy new home defense system?” She frowned. “We certainly can’t throw him out now, after all he’s been through to reach us…”

“He told you how he lost his eye?” he inquired, wondering what might've been discussed between them downstairs. People tended to find Lilith easy to confide in, whereas they were intimidated by Tammuz because of his reputation and stern gaze.

She hummed sadly in reply. “Gouged out by a bunch of common thugs who thought he had credits they could steal, because he bought a weapon to defend himself and paid for it with all the cash he had left.”

“Perhaps a cybernetic replacement...” But even as he spoke, Tammuz knew it was unlikely to work out that way. Changelings either regrew their body parts naturally, or they found ways to hide what they were missing and compensate for the loss without compromising their shapeshifting abilities. From what he could tell, Pygar was already on his way to accomplishing the latter, though the colorful scarf he wore tied around his head was certainly an interesting temporary solution. The fact that he had not regenerated his gouged eye actually came as a relief to Tammuz. It alleviated one of the many fears he had spontaneously developed upon his brief first viewing of the smuggled data files from Vandiir’s computer.

Though she was not Force sensitive, Lilith could pick up on her husband’s shift in mood and even guess his thoughts with all the familiarity of a spouse who had been married for three centuries. “He’s not one of us, is he?” she asked. “The letter mentioned experiments, mindwipes…”

“I believe the official Basic name for his kind is ‘Sith Changeling’,” Tammuz replied. “I won’t perpetuate the Sith tongue by speaking their ‘true’ name aloud. For now, simply referring to him as a changeling will suffice. We’ll have to keep his nature a secret anyway.”

The two fell into contemplative silence. “That was sweet, how she compared herself to your grandfather,” Lilith remarked after some time had passed. "He had his rough patches, but Mammon was a good person at heart."

“Many comparisons can be made between my grandfather and the various elements of this matter,” Tammuz murmured, turning back toward the window. Outside, the jungle was in darkness. It was very late, but he was still clad in the scholarly raiment he had worn to the ceremony that day at the newly opened Mammon Hoole University of Anthropology.

“The timing is certainly apt,” she said. “Do you suppose she knew?”

“Word doesn’t travel that far, especially not from—" He halted in mid-sentence, a faraway look coming into his ancient gaze.

“What is it?” she asked, concerned.

His head tilted to the side, his lips parting in surprise. “Arimanes just entered the system,” he said, glancing at her in disbelief.

She covered her mouth with her hand. “Ari? Here? And right after Inanna—”

“She isn’t with him,” Tammuz clarified quickly. “Although his presence in the Force is… strange. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“We’ll find out why soon enough.” She couldn’t help but smile in excitement. “Ari is coming home—I can hardly believe it! Oh, I won’t be able to get any sleep tonight at all!”

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

As always, the Goshen Spaceport—the only major one on all of Lao-mon—was practically deserted even in the middle of the day. Accompanied by a practically sleepwalking Miri, Arimanes strolled through the empty corridors. Along the way to the exit, he passed a small handful of family reunions with both returning Shi’ido adventurers, their bodies twisted into all manner of strange shapes, and visiting interspecies relatives bound by marriage and adoption. Amidst all this joy and gladness, no one spared them so much as a second glance as the pointy-eared man and the little girl passed through the sliding doors.

The humid jungle air enveloped him, carrying with it the scent of familiar flora. He breathed deep, embracing the atmosphere like an old friend. For better or worse, he was home.

An ancient public speeder carried them out of the city, chugging along through the dense foliage to the outskirts. Miri fidgeted in her seat, whining softly.

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost," Arimanes replied. "Another couple of hours, and then you can sleep in a comfortable bed."

She leaned against his side, prompting him to put his arm around her. In what seemed like seconds, she had closed her eyes and nodded off. Looking down at her, he felt a tightening in his chest. It would be difficult to leave her behind...

<Don't you dare.> The inner voice of Nimdok needled him. <I don’t give a damn about your adventures or your attempts at creating your own private collection of artifacts. That can wait until she’s grown. It can all wait!>

He shook his head. <It can't wait. I've already done too much. Besides, it's too dangerous for her to remain with me even if I did stop.>

<What am I supposed to do if you decide to leave her here, hop into one of their bodies? She’s the whole reason I’m with you in the first place!>

Arimanes had no answer. Nimdok's ghost continued to seethe for most of the ride, but Arimanes had seemingly made up his mind. The child would be left on Lao-mon with the Hoole family, if they would accept her—and he had little doubt they would.

Finally the speeder came to a stop, the doors sliding open to let the passengers out. Arimanes swallowed the lump in his throat, scooped Miri up, and carried her outside. The speeder went on its way, leaving the man and the girl alone in the wilderness.

Well, not exactly. The land had long since been developed, a few scattered houses built into the lush landscape for the truly wealthy members of Shi’ido society—the scholars, that is.

Here in the jungle the air was even heavier, the smell of disturbed earth and native flowers intoxicating. Arimanes took a moment to bask in it. This was the land of his forefathers; the chirps and calls of birds, insects, and all manner of creatures in the rainforest had been his cradle songs. Here he was Arimanes again, a boy with tremendous ambitions, his dreams stretching out to the very stars themselves, always light years ahead of everyone else.

Yet it was with a heavy heart that he walked the forest path up the mountain to the House of Hoole, a route he had taken countless times in his youth. His footsteps were light as he crossed the wooden deck to the primary entrance of the house, hesitating before the staircase that stretched up to the second floor entrance. The house had been built in such a way so as to disturb the forest floor as little as possible, resulting in some unusual architecture. Arimanes had only one suitcase carrying all the belongings he and Miri shared, but it and the child in his arms were a little much to be taking up those steep steps.

Fortunately, he didn't have to leave one or the other behind for a second trip. He heard the door open above him and glanced up to see Lilith Hoole standing at the top of the stairs, blinking at him with large, wet black eyes. “Ari?” she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.

Of course she knew he was here. Tammuz would’ve felt his presence the moment he set foot on the planet. He pictured the old patriarch sitting up in bed, the suddenness of his old protege’s return waking him up in the middle of the night, and turning to his wife to tell her the strange news. With a sigh of understanding, he nodded.

“Hello, Lilith.”

Wordlessly she descended the steps. Her eyes landed on the suitcase, and still without saying anything she picked it up and started back up. Adjusting his hold on Miri, he followed her.

Lilith let him into the house and shut the door behind them. Inside it was cool, the shades closed against the sun.

“It’s so good to see you,” Lilith said. She hovered at his side, her onyx gaze drawn to the sleeping child he held. “Who is this little one?”

“Her name is Miri,” he answered. “As you can see, she is exhausted from the trip.”

She crooned softly in sympathy, lightly stroking the girl’s head. “And people wonder why most of us avoid traveling.” Glancing up at him, she hesitated. “We have someone already in the guest room. I can put her up in Inanna’s old room…”

The significance of mentioning Inanna’s bedroom, in a house with no less than six sleeping quarters, wasn’t lost on him. Lilith was baiting him, fishing for news of her daughter.

“I saw her a few months ago,” he said, watching her posture visibly relax as he followed her down the hall. “I went to her for help, and wound up helping her.”

“Oh?” Lilith prompted, opening the door to what had been Inanna’s quarters. The room had been left largely unchanged since she left for Coruscant some fifty years earlier, even down to the shifting holographic posters on the walls displaying the same imagery.

“She had seen better days,” he admitted, choosing his words carefully. Lilith was changing the bed sheets while listening to him intently. “She left the Jedi Academy many years ago, but was too ashamed to tell you. So she tried to disappear, working odd jobs…”

The situation he had found Inanna in would have broken her mother’s heart. A high-class prostitute in a brothel adjacent to a notorious gambling den, Inanna had apparently been working the circuit for over forty years, hiding behind an untraceable alter ego. No one who cared about her knew what had happened to her. No one had ever bothered to come looking. No one except him… and even then, he had his own selfish reasons for seeking her out.

Finished with the bed linens, Lilith moved out of the way. She watched curiously as Arimanes undressed the girl, taking off her shoes and socks and removing her day dress all without disturbing the child’s sleep. Once Miri was under the covers, Lilith stepped out of the room. Arimanes lingered a few moments longer, deliberately folding the child’s clothes and setting them aside before joining her outside in the hallway.

“Is she yours?” Lilith asked as soon as he shut the door.

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.

“She’s not one of us..."

“No,” he clarified. “Her mother was Human, her father was either Sephi or Eldorai.”

“Hm.” She pursed her lips. “I was wondering why you looked like this.” She lowered her voice. “Does she know what you are?”

“She believes I am her father, Nimdok."

“Nimdok,” she murmured, as though tasting the name. Shrugging off the subject, she took a deep breath. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Ari.”

She held out her arms. Reluctantly he accepted her embrace, and just as reluctantly he released her.

Patting his shoulder as though she still couldn't believe he was really there, she asked, “Are you as tired as your little one?”

“I’ll be wide awake for a while now,” he replied. “You said someone else was staying in the guest room?”

“Yes—” She hesitated. "His name is Pygar, he arrived last night. Inanna sent him to us. He's in a bit of trouble."

Arimanes' interest was piqued as soon as she revealed Inanna was involved. “What kind of trouble?”

“We haven’t quite figured that out yet.” She smiled thinly. “He’s upstairs with Tammuz. Speaking of which, that old man is just as excited to see you as I am—but he’s been obsessing over this... thing with the boy. I'll let him explain it to you, I'm sure he can do a better job of it than I can.”

With that, she turned away from him. Raising an eyebrow, Arimanes followed her up yet another set of steps, this one leading to the third floor.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Tammuz sat at his computer desk in a reserved corner of the living room, a writing stylus clutched in his hand. Pygar had pulled up a chair beside him in order to look at the screen, a bowl of food in his lap. Despite the graphic content of the data, he was eating voraciously.

They had already looked at the Tsudakyr and Changeling files. Now the Doppelganger dossier was on display.

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Tammuz was saying, his eyes scanning the text. “I don’t know what kind of DNA he got a hold of, but this thing has little in common with the Shi’ido beyond our shapeshifting abilities.”

“It’s a crossbreed between the Shi’ido and the Anzati,” Pygar pointed out.

“I noticed that—of course a Sith ‘scientist’ would think to turn us into mind-eating vampires. As if our reputation in the galaxy wasn’t already murky enough.” With his stylus, Tammuz gestured to the section on Reproduction. “Where did he get the idea that we can change our sex? Does he not realize that while we may alter our exterior appearance to imitate any member of another species, our internal organs must still function the same, including the reproductive system? And what is this nonsense about gestating a “seed” to impregnate females of other species with?” He snorted derisively and shook his head. “If that were the case, my great-uncle Moloch and his Human wife wouldn’t have had to resort to adoption in order to start a family.”

Pygar swallowed another bite of his food, then asked, “Is that who Inanna’s letter was talking about? The brother’s wife’s sister-in-law, or whatever the relation was?”

“She was referring to Moloch Hoole and his wife Beryl,” Tammuz replied. “Moloch was my grandfather’s brother. Beryl was the sister of Kalf Arranda, the father of Tash and Zak. Moloch, Beryl, Kalf and his wife Milessa were all killed when Alderaan was destroyed. Tash and Zak only survived because the children were on a field trip offworld when it happened.” He tilted his head. “Under the laws of most human cultures, Mammon was under no legal obligation to care for the Arranda children. After all, what little relation there was between them had been completely eradicated with Moloch’s death. But because he wished to honor his brother, Mammon invoked ish’ken, the spirit of adoption.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” Pygar asked.

Tammuz hesitated. His mind was still lingering on certain unpleasant facts—particularly Vandiir’s claim that the sexual exploits of Doppelgangers frequently resulted in Sith Changelings. The ludicrosity of such a statement wasn’t lost on him, but when it came to the Force, quite literally anything was possible. A haphazardly bioengineered species’ offspring could turn out to be a member of a different species created by the same aspiring alchemist, and a random virgin slave on a backwater world could conceive a prophesied son all because a pair of ambitious Sith Lords essentially raped spirituality itself with their sheer willpower...

“Inanna has more or less adopted you,” Tammuz consented, his tone stern. “But because she is placing you in our care, we have the right to refuse. Until we invoke ish’ken, don’t consider this place your home yet.”

“Tammuz!” Lilith hissed as she emerged from the stairs. “Don’t crush the poor boy’s hopes. He just got here!”

Behind her was Arimanes. In the form of Nimdok, he appeared to be a male Sephi, aged around thirty five, with black hair and dark brown eyes. He was clad in a standard gray flight suit, the kind issued to passengers of deep space voyages. To Pygar, he looked… a little strange, though he couldn’t put his finger on the cause of this impression. The man’s features were ordinary, yet somehow he seemed to stand out.

Despite his unfamiliar form, Tammuz recognized Arimanes immediately, feeling his presence in the Force. Rising from his seat, the patriarch absorbed his stylus into the flesh of his wrist and strolled forward, meeting Arimanes in the middle of the room. But as he approached, his pace slowed and he hesitated, stopping himself just short of embracing the visitor.

“I foresaw your arrival last night,” Tammuz said, speaking in Shi’idese. “Are you well?”

Arimanes bowed his head slightly. “Yes. What about you? How have things been holding up around here?”

“Until recently, things had been uneventful.” Tammuz turned to Pygar, switching back to Basic. “This is Arimanes Bosch, a former pupil of mine. And this is Pygar, a young man who wishes to join our family," Tammuz introduced them.

“Arimanes has become a father himself through ish’ken,” Lilith commented pointedly. “His daughter is sleeping downstairs.”

Tammuz sighed, then turned to find Arimanes looking at him rather oddly. Or rather, he was looking past him at Pygar, who returned his stare with equal intensity.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” the boy asked.

“That depends,” Arimanes replied, clenching his jaw. “Does the name Nimdok mean anything to you?”

Pygar thought for a moment, then his eyebrows rose. “You’re the one who stole that Sith holocron!”

“Sith holocron?” Tammuz echoed in bewilderment.

“The holocron has been disposed of,” Arimanes replied coolly. To be exact, what remained of the holocron was currently in the possession of one Elise Ike at her private residence on Saleucami. “The bigger question is, how do you know about it?”

“Please, Ari,” Lilith began, wanting to avoid a hostile confrontation or argument. “Inanna sent him to us. He traveled alone all the way from Dromund Kaas to bring your father secret data. He’s in enough danger as it is without the two of you ganging up on him as if he were a criminal!”

“I have no intention of ‘ganging up’ on you,” Arimanes went on, never taking his eyes off of Pygar. “But I suggest you answer my question.” The threat implicit in his tone was vague, but it was clear he wasn't going to let this go.

“I came here from the Sith Empire,” Pygar replied, standing up without fear. “Inanna helped smuggle me out. I know about the holocron because my… my old master wanted it. You took it before he could get his hands on it, and he’s been looking for you ever since. Just like they're hunting me down now, because I stole a Sith Lord's data.”

“Oh no,” Lilith could be heard muttering under her breath in the dead silence that followed. “Ari, does this mean…”

“It means exactly what it sounds like.” Arimanes shook his head. “I came here to avoid the Sith, but I won’t stay if my presence puts you in even more danger.”

“No, Ari—you’ve only just arrived,” Lilith pleaded. “As long as the Sith don’t know either of you are here—”

"And how long will that be?" Arimanes shot back. As she flinched, he lowered his voice. "I didn't intend to stay long anyway, only for a few days." And he had intended to leave Miri behind here for the sake of the child's safety, but that hope was already dwindling to nothing. "Perhaps I can make an arrangement with my parents..."

He trailed off. The sudden change in expression on Tammuz and Lilith's faces told him everything.

"Your parents... have already passed on," Tammuz explained. "Your father died twenty four years ago, and your mother seven years ago. There's a different family living in their house now."

"I'm so sorry," Lilith murmured. "We would've sent word when it happened, but we didn't know where you were or how to contact you..."

Arimanes showed little reaction to the news, not even surprise or shock. His eyes shifted between the faces of the Hooles, and when he spoke his voice was considerably quieter and subdued.

"There's no need to apologize. I disappeared on you. Going into exile meant turning away from everyone I knew." He averted his eyes, looking down. "If you'll excuse me, I'm feeling more tired than I thought. I better get some rest."

Still avoiding eye contact, he turned and headed back downstairs, leaving the others standing in the living room.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

In the bedroom across the hallway from where Miri slept, Arimanes shut himself off from the rest of the household. He closed the brise-soleil so that no natural light came through and lay on the bed in complete darkness.

He could never be truly alone. In the back of his mind the ghost of Nimdok was rummaging around, uncomfortable sharing space with Arimanes’ bottled up grief and frustration.

<I’m sorry about your parents. I understand what it’s like to become an orphan. My mother and father died during the Netherworld Crisis. They never met my wife, never had a chance to get to know their granddaughter...>

Arimanes was promptly treated to a broad impression of who Nimdok’s parents were. Deronda, the beaten-down immigrant father, a quiet, reserved, somewhat distant man with a wise, knowing stare. On Monastery he had been a fisherman; on Alderaan he was a carpenter. His hands were leathery from a lifetime of manual labor, his face lined with deep furrows even when he was young. There was a strong physical resemblance between father and son, but he and Nimdok had had little in common otherwise.

His mother Nimue could never get rid of her stubborn farmgirl accent, so she did her best to draw everyone’s attention to her immaculate appearance instead. Her embrace meant the smell of perfume and cosmetics, the feel of silk or satin and luxurious furs against his cheek. Although somewhat neurotic, she eventually took over the family business and had less and less time for her family. Still, Nimdok knew she was dead when she failed to answer his calls.

<What about your parents? What were they like?>

Arimanes rolled over on his side. He wished he could ignore the ghost, but he knew it was no use. Nimdok would keep badgering him until they both fell asleep, and that wasn’t going to be anytime soon.

So he sent the ghost a foggy childhood memory. Arimanes was a boy of seven, an awkward, gangly-limbed gray thing with eyes like black marbles set in wet clay. He staggered across an overgrown field, the too-tall blades of grass whipping his knees, and looked across the way to the house on a hill.

In a room within that house, Tammuz Hoole was sitting before Arimanes’ parents and telling them that their son was a prodigy. He should be fostered and groomed from a young age, for he held the promise of a bright and prosperous future. The Boschs were already old when their marriage had finally produced a child, and neither fully grasped what Tammuz was saying. Their Ari, a possible Jedi? Whatever you say, Mr. Hoole. He needs a mentor? Well, I’m sure you have it covered.

And just like that, they sent him away. He had not understood what was happening. As time passed and his parents didn’t come to pick him up and take him home, he began to see it as a rejection. How could he not? He had loved them. They were his mother and his father. Why had they abandoned him? Didn’t they love him?

Yet they had attended every milestone in his education, every graduation, every conference, every awards ceremony. With smiles on their faces they had congratulated him, these people that he hardly knew. And he suspected that they were congratulating each other for giving their only child what counted as a good education, even if it had cost them their relationship with him.

<So you had a miserable childhood. Who didn’t?>

<Inanna didn’t.> Arimanes retorted, though he no longer had the will to turn it into an effective barb against Nimdok. <She was afraid she would be sent away if her parents discovered she was Force sensitive. I used to envy her. I was jealous of everything she had—her strength in the Force, her family, her happiness and contentment. But I never let her see it, because I was afraid I would lose the little taste of those things I got from being her friend.>

<You never really cared about her, then.>

<I don't care about anyone. That’s your job. You're the lover, I'm the fighter.>

<Surely it can’t be that black and white…>

<Some things are. And sometimes you have to get as far away from the past as you can, and don’t ever come back. I accepted that a long time ago. I don’t feel anything for my parents anymore.>

<Then why are you in such a foul mood?>

<Because I came here for nothing. This Pygar kid, he’s taken the spot I had hoped to put Miri in. More than that, he’s put the only family I have left in grave danger. Congratulations, you got your wish—I have no choice but to take Miri with me when I leave.>

Sensing Nimdok’s internal smirk, he wished the spirit had a separate neck so that he could wring it. Instead, he simply shut his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Three Hours Later

~~~​

Now it was Lilith’s turn to pace the living room floor, wringing her hands and sighing. At last she turned to her husband and blurted, “I wish you would talk to him!”

Tammuz looked up from his computer screen. He was still poring over the files, though Pygar had ceased to assist him. The Sithspawn was sitting a few feet away with a datapad in his lap, reading up on Shi'ido customs.

“He wants to be alone,” Tammuz replied with a shrug before turning back to his work.

Lilith crossed the room until she stood behind his chair, looking over his shoulder. “What are you going to do with all this?”

“I was thinking about destroying it,” he murmured. “Can’t risk it falling into the wrong hands.”

“But the Sith will come anyway!”

“Indeed.” Scratching his chin, the old patriarch asked, “Did you call Mulciber?”

“I said I would, didn't I?” she replied haughtily. Mulciber was their third son and a pioneer in the field of genetic research, particularly when it came to the Shi’ido genome. No doubt he would find Vandiir's monsters very interesting. “He’s on his way now. Have you considered telling Ari about this?” She gestured to the screen.

“As long as I can avoid it, I won’t tell him at all.” At Lilith’s puzzled look, he added, “The Arimanes I knew would look at these files and want to join Adrian Vandiir in creating new life. He wouldn’t care by what artifice it was done. He would just see the potential to push the boundaries of what’s possible.”

Lilith gaped at him in astonishment. “I can’t believe you would say that. I can’t believe you would even think that—”

“You didn’t know Arimanes as well as I did,” Tammuz countered. “I was his teacher. I saw how his mind worked.” He looked as if he was about to say more on the subject of how Arimanes’ mind worked, but instead he just shook his head in bitter disappointment. “Lilith, if only you knew how many hopes and dreams I pinned on him… You want to talk about invoking ish’ken for Pygar, well, I almost invoked it for Arimanes. Many times I considered filing for adoption, becoming his Uncle Hoole, but every time I had only to ask him a question, and his answer would make me think twice about it.”

He was breathing hard, unusually impassioned. Lilith took his hand in his, stroking it soothingly.

“What was the question?”

"I don't remember." He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, then pressed it against his cheek. “We were once a primitive, superstitious people,” he said. “The Shi’ido believed in reincarnation, that the souls of the dead are reborn in new flesh and live again, making the same mistakes, committing the same evils, until eventually we learn better...”

He shut his eyes. “I am not a scientist at heart, Lili. In fact, I have more than a touch of the pagan in me, as shocking as it may seem. I entertained certain notions that my ancient forebears would’ve found perfectly plausible. I dreamed that Arimanes was Mammon reborn, and I saw him falling for the same trap that ensnared my grandfather. That all-consuming desire to create life…”

“Were they that much alike?” she whispered. Lilith never had the chance to meet Mammon Hoole, who died before she met her husband. But Tammuz had told her many stories of his grandfather’s wisdom, intelligence, and kindness.

“As Adrian Vandiir is to Borborygmus Gog,” he replied. Gog was Mammon’s former colleague, another Shi’ido scientist who blackened the reputation of his species as much as Mammon uplifted it. Upon his name hung the Empire-approved genocide of Kiva, and all the destruction and suffering inflicted through Project Starscream.

“Arimanes seemed aware of my expectations,” Tammuz went on, releasing Lilith’s hand. “But he was never much of a scientist. Well, archaeology is a science. He was never much of a biologist, and he lacked the talent to indulge in alchemy, thank the Force. Still, I wish I hadn't been so hard on him. Maybe then he wouldn't have disappeared...”

“And now he has returned with an adopted child, just as Mammon adopted Tash and Zak.” She crossed her arms. “Stranger coincidences have happened, dear.”

Turning away from her, he grumbled to himself, “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Over the course of their exchange, Pygar, feeling distinctly uncomfortable amid the intimate setting, quietly got up from his chair and went outside onto the deck. Darkness had descended upon the jungle, which was now filled with the chirps and growls of nighttime predators and insects. At some point someone had lit the firepit with a small flame—real fire, not synthetic. Pygar had no idea why. Even in the evening, it was oppressively humid outside. The cool blue water of the pool beckoned to the Sithspawn, who shed his clothes and dove in, swimming laps around the perimeter. Anything to get his mind off of what had happened and what could happen.

Ten minutes later, the ambient jungle sounds were undercut by the rumble of a speeder approaching. Parking at the front of the house, the Shi'ido rider sprouted a pair of wings and flew up to the third floor rather than taking the stairs. Appearing as a tall marble-skinned humanoid male, Mulciber Hoole alighted on the deck near the pool, where a startled Pygar immediately sank lower into the water, not sure if he was friendly or not.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you there." Chuckling, Mulciber absorbed his birdlike wings back into his body. He was cradling what appeared to be a... miniature tauntaun? The tiny creature was squirming in his arms, and when he finally put it down it bounded over to Lilith, shrieking happily.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, bending down to give the creature a hug around its little neck. "Mulciber, I didn't know you were going to bring her with you..."

"Well, it's not a school night, so I figured why not?" Mulciber embraced his mother, then went to greet his father.

"I wish you hadn't," Tammuz remarked, clasping his son's hand in salute. "It may be dangerous here now."

Mulciber's brow furrowed. "Dangerous? Who would dare threaten the Hoole family in their own home?..."

Since they were speaking their native language, Pygar could no longer understand them. The Sithspawn climbed out of the pool and stood there dripping, feeling even more alienated than before. Luckily Lilith took notice and fetched him a towel.

"Don't be shy. Come on over and join us," she said. "Not to worry—once the initial greetings are over, it's back to business in Basic."

The tiny tauntaun had also taken a liking to Pygar and bounded over, nearly taking out his knees with a horned headbutt in the process. He moved out of the way, not sure what the creature wanted from him.

Even before Pygar reached the gathering, Tammuz was already introducing him. "This is Pygar. Inanna has semi-officially adopted him. Pygar, this is my son Mulciber."

"Notice the family resemblance?" Mulciber joked, placing his head beside his father's for comparison. Tammuz rolled his eyes even as he cracked a small, thin smile. "And this little one is Ashmedai," he said, gesturing to the tiny creature that was still circling Pygar's feet. "Hey, Ash! Stop harassing him!"

The miniature tauntaun clearly just wanted attention. Having by now accepted the weirdness of the situation, Pygar complied, scooping her up and flopping into a chair. There Ash sat contentedly on his knee, her head held high and her hooves tucked neatly underneath her body while he scratched behind her ears.

"She's been stuck on that form for the last three days," Mulciber said, sounding more exhausted than amused. "Refuses to change back. We have to carry her around everywhere." He grinned. "I heard Ari was back in town. What's that all about? Is he the one threatening you?"

"If he is, he's not doing a very good job of it," Lilith answered quickly. "He's resting now. He's had a long journey."

"I'll bet," Mulciber remarked. "Fifty years of nothing, and all of a sudden he turns up out of the blue." He lowered his voice. "He isn't after money, is he?"

"No, no." Tammuz shook his head. "He's just visiting. Brought his little girl with him, too."

Mulciber's eyebrows rose. "Ari's got a kid? Fifty years can really change a man." He glanced over at his own daughter. "Maybe she and Ash can play together sometime."

"Probably not tonight." Turning back to his computer, Tammuz gestured for Mulciber to follow. "I called you here because I wanted to show you something very, ah, peculiar. Pygar brought it to us, all the way from the Sith Empire. I'm sure you can see the danger in that..."

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Despite his troubled state of mind, Arimanes did eventually succumb to exhaustion. The journey from Saleucami to Lao-mon had taken over a week, and he found it difficult to sleep in a shuttle bunk.

But his much-needed slumber was abruptly interrupted. He awoke to find the bedroom darker than it had been when he fell asleep. It was the middle of the night now, evening having long since passed into twilight. He heard a low rumble of distant thunder—a storm was brewing far away over the sea.

He wasn’t sure what had awoken him. But he had a strange feeling that something wasn’t quite right.

Sitting up in bed, he got to his feet. The darkness was so thick, he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. He heard the door slide open as he exited, only to find the hallway beyond equally dim. The door to Miri’s room stood closed in front of him. She must still be sleeping.

Yet as he started to walk down the hall, something stopped him. It felt almost if someone had grabbed his sleeve and tugged on it, trying to get his attention. He glanced back over his shoulder at Miri’s door, then turned around.

It took only the press of a button to open. Inside, her bedroom was pitch black. He heard a soft rustling sound. Blankets and bedsheets, he thought at first. She’s tossing and turning in her sleep.

But again he felt the nudge, this time prompting him to turn on the lights.

His eyes took a moment to adjust, and in that time the rustling stopped. A dark figure moved from the bed up to the ceiling in the time it took for Arimanes, half-blind from the sudden brightness, to blink.

The door to the veranda was open, as was the brise-soleil. Outside, the wind was picking up, shaking the trees and making the temperature and humidity of the room rise to uncomfortable levels. Puzzled, he approached the veranda and shut the door. As he did, the skin on the back of his neck prickled. He whirled around, but still saw nothing. Only Miri, asleep in her bed.

But Miri was not that sound a sleeper.

Nimdok’s ghost urged him forward, pulling back the sheets from her head. Dark curls spilled out over the pillow. Some strands stuck to the side of her face, dark and sticky with blood. His fingers jerked the matted hair back, arms lifting her limp little body into a sitting position. Dark red smeared both her nostrils, trickling down white cheeks. More dripped over her mouth when he held her upright, pooling in the creases of her bluish lips. Her eyes were closed.

He thought he screamed for help, but it seemed no one could come fast enough. He thought he heard himself begging her to breathe, pressing his own mouth to hers to try and force air into her lungs. The taste of her blood was on his lips, still warm. She wouldn’t respond, wouldn’t open her eyes.

It all seemed like a dream, until the sound of the veranda door sliding open again behind him brought him back to reality.

He whirled around. There was a slight shimmer in the air above, clinging to the wall like a transparent bat, its skin refracting light. A crystal snake? But they didn’t do this...

Sensing that it had been discovered, the serpent abandoned its invisibility and tried to jam its way through the tiny crack it had made in the door. Arimanes stared at it as the creature began to shift. Though he was on Lao-mon, the very homeworld of the Shi’ido, somehow he knew that the thing twisting and warping in front of him was not one of his own kind. This was something else entirely.

Arimanes was equally astonished by how swiftly and completely Nimdok’s ghost seized control over his body. The thing was still trying to make itself longer and thinner when Nimdok lunged at it, fists connecting with flesh and bone and sinew, pummeling and tearing and snarling at the thing in sheer blind fury.

The serpent hissed in pain and darted out of his grasp, whipping toward the open brise-soleil. Nimdok took hold of it again, grabbing its tail, and the beast realized it wasn’t getting away this easily. Its body jerked violently, becoming a strange, undefinable creature, half-snake and half-humanoid. Jagged teeth too large for its delicate head sprouted from a slit of a mouth, jaws snapping threateningly. Nimdok responded in kind, tapping into Arimanes’ skinshifting abilities.

<Nimdok, let me handle this! You don't know what you're doing!> Arimanes tried to stop him, only to feel a psychological barrier slam down between himself and the ghost, jamming him further into the backseat of his own mind. Nimdok, the enraged father determined to avenge his child, had created a subconscious wall between them.

<This thing is mine.>

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

As they read through the stolen files together, Mulciber’s mood gradually shifted from lighthearted gaiety, to shock and horror, before finally culminating in the same righteous anger his father shared.

“Where did you get this information?” he demanded, whirling around to face Pygar. “Who is responsible for these monstrosities?”

Pygar hesitated, left without words by the look of pure disgust, hatred, and fear in the Shi’ido’s obsidian eyes. While still paying attention to what was going on around him, the Sithspawn had successfully lulled the rambunctious Ash to sleep with gentle strokes from her head to her back. Mulciber, completely focused on the files, hadn’t taken much notice of what Pygar had been doing until now. Seeing his daughter in the lap of one such “monstrosity” prompted him to seize the miniature tauntaun on reflex. The child stirred, jolted from sleep, and began to bleat in annoyance, wriggling in her father’s grasp.

Lilith flinched. “Mulciber, regardless of what’s been done to him, Pygar has been victimized by the Sith. All of the creatures listed in the files were normal once. Just because they’ve been altered doesn’t mean they—”

“I know, Mother,” Mulciber interrupted, holding Ash closer to him. “I know. But that still doesn’t answer my question.” He looked at Pygar again, this time with a considerably cooler gaze. “Who did this to you?”

“His name is Adrian Vandiir,” Pygar replied. “He’s currently serving as Dark Councilor of Scientific Advancement in the Sith Empire.”

“What an appropriate title,” Tammuz murmured sarcastically. “I take it he has all the resources of the Empire at his disposal, as well as free rein to do as he pleases without consequence?”

Pygar nodded. “As for how I got the data, the original escape plan was to simply smuggle me to Lao-mon. That’s all that happened as far as Inanna knows.” He took a deep breath, preparing to deliver the bad news. “But at the last minute, just before I was set to leave Dromund Kaas, I decided to try and find out who I was before the experiments. I wanted to know if there was any record that could tell me my true name, or if I had any family out there who might be looking for me…”

He shook his head, swallowing his rising emotions in order to keep talking. “Faya helped me. She was as curious to find out as I was. We couldn’t find anything, but the data about the experiments was all there, right at my fingertips. At the very least, I could take it with me. So I stole the files and ran all the way here. But it’s much harder to cover your tracks when you steal than when you’re only browsing. I’m sure by now Vandiir has already sent the Inquisitorial death squads and Doppelgangers after me. And if they know where I am, they’ll come here, and they won’t stop until I’m dead—”

All attention was drawn away from the monologuing Sithspawn as Tammuz abruptly flinched and held his head in his hands, as though in great pain.

“Tammuz?” Lilith asked, touching her husband’s shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

As if on cue, they all heard a cry of anguish coming from downstairs. Tammuz barely managed to speak. “There is an intruder,” he whispered, rising from his chair and hurrying over to the stairwell. “Arimanes intends to face it alone, the fool…”

Lilith rushed after him, while Mulciber headed for the deck. Pygar stayed where he was. He knew what was coming. He was trembling, but when the time came they wouldn’t break his spirit.

“If I die, don’t let it be in vain,” he said, addressing no one in particular. “You get those files out as soon as you can. I want them available everywhere, all over the Holonet. I want the entire galaxy to be able to see what he did—what he’s still doing. Maybe then someone will—”

A tremendous crash from down below cut him off in mid-sentence. Pygar turned toward the windows, believing he was about to face his doom. With his good eye's keen sight he glimpsed two figures spilling up over the edge of the wall and cutting across the deck, locked in mortal combat.

Mulciber shielded Ash in his arms as he ran back inside. Open terror was etched across his features. “Dad!” he shouted, running toward the stairs. “Mom! What the hell is going on?!”

Pygar sat frozen in his chair, his eyes fixed on the fight. His nightvision resolved the two indistinct figures outside into that of a Doppelganger and someone else he didn’t recognize. The Doppelganger was mostly humanoid, its hands and feet ending in razor-sharp claws that swiped viciously at its opponent. His opponent looked like a man with wings sprouting from his back, which he used to evade the Doppelganger. Or tried to. As Pygar watched, the Doppelganger’s claws raked jagged wounds in the man’s flesh, leaving it in bloody shreds, then managed to knock him backwards into the pool. The water darkened with black blood.

“Arimanes!” Tammuz hissed, running back up the steps. Passing Mulciber and Pygar in turn, he rushed outside amid the pleading cries of his wife and son begging him to stop. The family’s patriarch transformed almost instantly into something resembling a drexl, though not as large or as strong, and shot like a bullet toward the Doppelganger, paying no heed to the glass between them. The windows shattered, the impact blasting shards of glass outward. Some struck the Doppelganger, which howled in pain, while the rest skidded across the wooden deck. Pygar leaped to his feet, taking cover behind the chair he had been sitting in.

The icarus floated back to the surface of the water. Clambering out, drenched in water, he continued his suicidal advance upon the Doppelganger. At the moment it was distracted by Tammuz, who snapped drexl fangs in its face, only to be forced to retreat as the Doppelganger’s claws lashed out at him. Hardly a moment passed before the icarus’ arms wrapped around the Doppelganger’s neck. It snarled and latched its jaws onto his wrist. Blood and greenish venom ran from the wound, torn open by jagged teeth, but he kept the Doppelganger in a tight headlock, jerking him toward the firepit.

The Doppelganger screamed in agony as its body made contact with the flames, its limbs flailing. Tammuz took the hint and stretched out his hands, sparks and then flames arcing from his palms. The two Shi’ido worked to burn the Doppelganger to death, one shoving the creature’s head into the fiery coals while the other fed the flames. It took less than a minute for the Doppelganger to stop moving, but finally it went limp, either unconscious or dead. Tammuz stepped away, unable to stand the heat and smoke, but the icarus piled the rest of the creature’s body into the pit, limb by folded limb. The air filled with the stench of burning flesh.

Only when the icarus finally crawled away from the fire and smoke did Pygar realize who he was. His body was covered in blood from head to toe, tattered flesh hanging off in chunks, one wing ripped off completely at some point during the struggle while the other barely clung by a few pieces of skin, but the face was the same. It was Nimdok.

Bare feet rapidly ascended the stairs. Pygar turned around with a gasp, only to find Lilith standing before him. She was carrying Miri. Taken straight from her bed, the little girl was still clad in only her underwear, her head resting against the old woman’s shoulder. He saw the blood crusting her face, not quite dry yet, and his stomach lurched, his mind putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Call for help,” she told Pygar, her voice shaking. Too stunned to ask questions, he obeyed, picking up the comm.

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Arimanes dragged himself away from the flames, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Nimdok, at last realizing that the situation was truly life-or-death for them both, had handed control back over to Arimanes as soon as he began to feel the Doppelganger’s venom. But for all his fighting spirit, there was little Arimanes could do. Both souls were soon submerged in a murky paralysis, coupled with bodily shock from his extensive wounds.

Through the haze he felt hands on his back and a voice speaking softly to him, but he flinched away from their touch. Everything burned like ice.

“Arimanes,” Tammuz repeated, his voice strained. “Why didn’t you wait for us? We would have helped you.”

Arimanes tried to speak, but the noises that escaped him were nearly incoherent. “Miri… killed her… murdered…”

“I know,” Tammuz whispered. “But she’s not dead.”

Arimanes stared up at Tammuz. Not dead? But she wasn’t breathing… wasn’t moving…

“She’s alive, but she needs immediate medical attention. And so do you.” Again Tammuz reached for him, trying to pick him up. Arimanes didn’t fight it. He couldn’t even if he wanted to.

Tammuz carried him into the house, out of the smoke and heat, and laid him down on a couch. Black blood soaked the cloth beneath him, leaking from his wounds and mingling with the greenish, slimelike neurotoxin as it trickled from the bite on his arm. If the poison didn’t kill him, he was going to bleed to death.

<No!> Came the pathetic inner voice of Nimdok. <We can’t die! We have to live for Miri, for your quest, for the Jedi, for Elise!...>

Elsewhere in the room, he could hear Pygar's voice meandering as he paced the floor, talking on the comm. "...well, if you can't come to us, we'll just have to come to you! There's an injured kid here, and a—Wait a minute, no... No, we don't want to get the... well, I guess we probably should get the cops involved..."

Arimanes’ breathing grew shallow and wheezing, his lungs constricting painfully under the influence of the neurotoxin. Tammuz, having returned to his natural form, knelt beside him. “The Doppelganger can create many poisons,” he said. “Did it bite you?”

Arimanes couldn’t speak without choking. Black dots were appearing in the corners of his vision. Tammuz immediately leaned forward, holding Arimanes’ face between his hands.

“Change back,” he commanded. “Your wounds will close, then we can deal with the poison.”

As he spoke, he pressed his own consciousness into Arimanes, trying to help him through the process, bypassing the damage done to his nervous system. When Arimanes still could only struggle feebly, he increased the pressure. “Arimanes, you must change back. If you don’t, you will die. Follow my lead...”

But Arimanes was slipping away. Nimdok squirmed. He had died before, but witnessing the death of another was somehow worse, especially since Arimanes was the only way he’d be able to continue taking care of his daughter. Seizing control of their body again, Nimdok followed Tammuz’s guide. The old patriarch was startled by the second presence he felt replacing the first, but didn’t retract from his mind.

The icarus’ skin began to crawl. What was left of the torn wings shriveled and drew back into his body. Tammuz didn’t push him to conjure up clothing. Instead, he lowered his hands to Arimanes’ shoulder, pulling him forward so he could examine his back. Two ragged gashes ran vertically between his shoulder blades, black blood beginning well up from the strange cuts.

“His wounds are not closing,” Tammuz said grimly, though his voice seemed to grow steadily fainter as Arimanes lost consciousness. “He’s lost a great deal of blood. We must get him to a hospital immediately…”

 

[Jacen Nimdok]

Not long after Arimanes slipped into oblivion, Tammuz pulled Pygar aside. “Lilith and I are going to take them to the nearest hospital,” he said. “If anyone comes around asking questions, say that you’re a visiting friend of the family,” he said. “You’re not connected to any of what happened here, and you don’t know anything about the Doppelganger, Adrian Vandiir, or the Sith. As far as you know, this was just a random intruder, a burglary gone wrong. Understand?”

Pygar nodded.

“Now go change into another form to reflect that.”

Walking into the refresher, Pygar grit his teeth against the pain of transformation. His new form was that of a middle-aged human male with blonde hair and brown eyes. A professor, perhaps. He decided on the name Tom Kovack.

Exhaling slowly, he pulled the scarf off his head. He was able to make his right eye appear undamaged, but he still couldn’t see through it. For the purposes of this exercise, his lack of depth perception shouldn’t be a problem—at least, not unless he got behind the wheel of a speeder.

Outside, he found the house nearly deserted, save Mulciber and Ash sitting together in the recreational room on the second floor. The little Shi’ido girl had changed form as well, into a black-skinned, golden-haired little girl about the same age and height as Miri. Mulciber looked up at Pygar as soon as he entered the room. “They just left,” he explained. “Dad said they should both be okay. From what he could tell, the Doppelganger was trying to make it look like she had been killed by an Anzati. They stick their tentacle probisces up your nose, burrow through your skull and eat your brain.”

“I figured,” Pygar said softly, harrowed by the whole experience. “They are part Anzati, you know.”

Mulciber nodded. “Nimdok got there just in time—it hadn’t gotten past her skull yet.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If that were my kid, I would’ve done the same thing. Killed the piece of chit. Then nuked it from orbit just to be sure.”

“What I don’t understand is why it attacked her in the first place,” Pygar said, sitting down across from him. “I mean, I had heard rumors about some of the earliest Doppelgangers being… unhinged, but why would Vandiir send a crazy one on a mission like this?”

“Could be that he didn’t know it was crazy,” Mulciber offered. “But it does seem strange.”

“It’s more likely that he didn’t know kids would be involved,” Pygar countered. “Vandiir doesn’t know where I am. At least, I don’t think he does. He probably figured the Doppelganger would get me while I was still on the run… Not while I was staying with a family with young children.” He flinched. “They’re known for being selfish, Doppelgangers. Selfish and subtle. If I had to guess, it was going to kill everyone in this house, make it look like an Anzati took everybody out during the night. It just happened to start with her.”

“But that’s dumb,” Mulciber pointed out. “If you’re going to murder an entire household, you should do it when everyone is asleep, and you should start with the adults, since they’re the strongest. If they wake up, you’re in trouble.”

Pygar spread his hands. “I don’t know what the deal is. It must have come for me…” He trailed off, his stomach dropping as a thought occurred to him. “It was going to frame me for her death.”

“How?”

“Doppelgangers can make themselves look like anybody. And they can read minds. It may have picked up on the coincidence of me arriving at around the same time as Nimdok and Miri… and saw it as an opportunity to take advantage of any suspicions you might have had about my motives.” He gestured. “I don’t have much proof of my good intentions beyond the datachip. The letter Inanna sent with me could have been forged.”

Mulciber raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying the Doppelganger was going to kill Miri, and make it look like you had done it?”

“And make it look like I was the Doppelganger all along, yes,” Pygar clarified. “Nimdok would’ve come after me instead. And the real Doppelganger could’ve gone in and taken the datachip. Speaking of which, what did you do with the chip?”

“It’s in my pocket.” Mulciber patted his chest. “Perfectly safe.”

“How do I know for sure?” Pygar shot back, standing up. “For all I know, you could be a Doppelganger.”

“He’s not a Doppelganger,” Ash said, the word sounding adorably goofy coming from her. “He’s my daddy.”

Mulciber blinked, then rose to his feet. “You want it back? Be my guest,” he said. The datachip appeared in his hand, and he tossed it to Pygar, who caught it.

“Just like that?”

“Destroy it,” Mulciber hissed. “Blow it up. I don’t care what’s on it. Anything that puts my family in this much danger isn’t worth the trouble.”

Pygar clenched his fist around the chip. Just then, the door chimed. “The police?” he asked, stuffing the datachip into his pocket.

Shrugging, Mulciber walked over to the door. Pygar had only a few seconds to prepare his statement. All of it went out the window when Mulciber answered the door, revealing a small squadron of soldiers clad in black Mandalorian armor.

“Good evening,” the leader of the troops, a female voice partially muffled by a beskar helmet, said. “We received a call earlier about a possible break-in and a violent scuffle. Is that correct?”

Pygar instantly recognized the uniforms of the Saarishash Purification Legionnaires, better known as Inquisitorial death squads. He cursed under his breath, trying to control his instantly elevated breathing and accelerated heart rate. He had braced himself for death earlier, but now that he had been given a second chance at life, the calm acceptance of his own demise had rapidly been replaced by raw adrenaline and a profound will to survive.

“We did call earlier,” Mulciber replied, frowning. “Only we called the local police. Who the hell are you?”

“The police contacted us,” she explained. “We’re Saarishash, otherwise known as Sith Inquisitors. We’re looking for a fugitive from the Sith Empire who matches your description of the assailant.”

“Really?” Mulciber rested his fists on his hips. “Well, it should please you to know that the assailant has been annihilated. Its ashes are currently smoldering up on the roof.”

“We’d still like to take a look around,” she said, raising her hand as if to stop the door from being slammed in her face. “If that’s all right with you, mister…?”

“Dr. Mulciber Hoole. And it’s perfectly fine with me.” Mulciber stepped aside, winking at Pygar. “My friend here was just leaving.”

“Who are you?” the leader of the troops asked Pygar.

“I’m Professor Tom Kovack of the Chandrilan Academy of Sciences,” Pygar replied, doing his best to sound merely confused and frightened rather than show his true terror. “I’m a friend of the Hooles. I was spending the night here as a guest when we were awoken by the intruder. I was just about to leave and go stay in a motel for the night.”

She turned to glance at Ash, who was still sitting on the couch with her legs crossed. “Is there anyone else in the house now?”

“No, just us. The others had to go to the hospital.” He gestured vaguely. “I was asleep when they found the burglar, or whoever it is. He was apparently hiding in one of the spare bedrooms.”

Pygar could practically see the frown spreading across the leader’s face beneath her helm. “I’m going to need some ID,” she said, holding out her hand.

Pygar swallowed, then pretended to search his pockets for a wallet. “I… I seem to have forgotten it. With all the chaos, and being awoken in the middle of the night, the only thing I thought about was getting to safety. I'm sure you can understand...”

“You seem very nervous, Mr. Kovack.”

“Dr. Kovack,” he corrected mildly. “I have a doctorate. And I’m just a little shaken up, is all.” His eyes darted to Mulciber, who visibly winced.

“Dr. Kovack,” she repeated, an audible smirk in her tone. “We can’t let you leave without your identification, of course. But if you’re so concerned about your safety, we’d be more than happy to have one of our officers retrieve it for you.”

“Oh no—that won’t be necessary,” Pygar blurted, trying to salvage the rapidly unraveling situation. “I can get it myself, if you could send in a couple of guys to walk me through the house safely...”

The female officer hesitated, then signaled the others. Two men approached, their weapons drawn and ready. “Escort Dr. Kovack,” she ordered them. “Will these couple of guys be sufficient?”

Pygar smiled thinly in faux gratitude. He had no idea what he was doing, but he did know that once they suspected something was off about him, the jig would be up. They’d whip out the electrostaff and zap him back to his natural form before he had a chance to keep bullshitting.

Turning toward the stairs, one trooper in front of him and the other following behind, he spared a reassuring glance at Mulciber and Ash. “I hope you two will be safe here by yourselves.”

Mulciber nodded, getting the message. The one consolation Pygar could take from this botched situation was that the troopers were unlikely to hurt them. They would be safe regardless of what happened next.

As Pygar and his escorts made their way up to the second floor, he weighed his options. If the Hooles had any weapons stockpiled in their home, he didn’t know where they were. He’d have to rely on his knowledge of his own belongings and capabilities.

“Right this way,” he said, gesturing down the hall. “I was sleeping in the guest room when I suddenly heard this tremendous crashing noise from one of the other rooms…”

They passed Inanna’s room. The door was malfunctioning and remained open, revealing the disarray caused by Nimdok’s fight with the Doppelganger. From the looks of it, they had struggled briefly before one of them forced the other out onto the veranda, then crashed through the brise-soleil, which was the source of the noise they had heard a floor above. One of the troopers whistled at the sight.

“I didn’t really get a good look at it until now, you see, because I immediately ran from my room to the recreational room,” Pygar gestured. “I made sure the rest of the family were all right, and then Mulciber showed up and told me Tammuz had found someone in his daughter's old bedroom. She's been missing for many years, and they're very particular about people disturbing her belongings, so you can imagine how upset they were…”

He opened the door to the guest room. The front officer checked the place out, making sure there was nothing lying in wait for them inside, then motioned for them to enter. Pygar grabbed his bag, hefted it up onto the bed, and started rummaging through it. Out of the corner of his eye, he took note of the positions of each officer. One was conveniently closer to him than the other.

“...aha, here it is,” he said, holding up his wallet. Inside was a fake ID, but not for “Tom Kovack”. If they saw it, it would clearly expose him as a liar. With his other hand he grasped the heated vibrodagger he had paid for with the last of his credits and his right eye, and prayed the weapon would prove a worthy investment.

Turning around, he held out his wallet with one hand—and buried the blade in the closest trooper’s throat with the other. At the flick of a switch, the dagger instantly heated to flesh-cauterizing temperatures. The heat weakened the woven fabric, and the dagger cut the rest of the way through.

Discarding his wallet, he pulled the dying soldier forward, using him as a shield while the other opened fire. Charging forward, he flung the limp corpse at the other trooper, grabbed the dead one’s discarded blaster rifle off the floor, and unleashed a torrent of fire on the survivor.

His aim was off due to his lack of depth perception, but that hardly mattered in such close quarters. At least one of the shots hit the mark, and the trooper fell down and stayed down.

The others would have heard the blaster fire and would be charging up the stairs any second. Pygar wasted no time, running out of the room and racing back to the stairs. Perhaps this was the end of the line for him. He had nowhere to go, no place to hide. Better to face his fate like a man. Forcing himself through the painful transformation, he became only Pygar again, a terrified Changeling with nothing left to lose, and started down the steps...

And that was when he began to hear the noises down below. Thumps, thuds, scrapes. Grunts and groans. The sound of bones breaking. He slowed in the middle of the stairs, unable to see what was happening. Then the noises abruptly stopped. Breathing hard and still clutching the blaster rifle, he resumed his descent.

All of the Legionnaires were dead or seriously injured. Mulciber stood over them, flexing muscle and sinew as his body resolved itself into its usual form. Ash remained sitting on the couch, acting as if nothing had happened.

Once he was back to normal, Mulciber met Pygar’s gaze. “There's an abandoned mining settlement up in the mountains. Go there, stay out of sight. Take my speeder, I'll come by and pick it up later.” He tossed the Sithspawn his keys. “I’m tired of these fething Sith being drawn to my family’s property like flies. Since you’re the honey, I’m putting you someplace else.”