Splinter of the Mind's Eye (Velok the Younger)

[Zark San Tekka]

Kingsley & Kingsley's
Level 1313, Coruscant

"Rrrrawk, anything else I can help you with oh Grand Admiral?" the Hiitian proprieter of the undercity pawn shop saluted him smartly, before preening his feathers and marching back and forth.

"Alright, alright, keep it down pateessa," Zark grumbled, tossing an extra credit chit onto the overflowing counter-top between them, "Lets not give the boys outside any more reason to stick a vibroshiv in me than they've already got."

"Sorry old friend," [member="Kingsley"] shrugged his hulking shoulders in an apologetic manner, "Make-cheesay, rrrawk! I don't gouge you like I do the rest of these wermos then they'll know something is up."

Years before the Alliance Vice Admiral had ever even been on board the bridge of a capital ship, he had been an escort captain by day and spent all of his free time treasure hunting in the Kathol Outback. In those days the drunken Hiitian scoundrel had been a contact of sorts, helping him to gather leads on possible finds and on the extremely rare occasion when any of those panned out serving as a financial middle man.

Now they had both for the most part moved on, Zark to a more legitimate lifestyle and his old fence on to his next racket. But every once in a while, even though these days it was getting harder to do without fear of being recognized, he would still stop by when he visited Galactic City to haggle over a few minor pieces. The Hereafter was on a routine resupply mission to the picket forces patrolling the outer edges of the pseudo-independent Imperial protectorate of Anaxes, and his XO had been hoping for some more time at the con since the war had forced them from their posting to the space around Fort Dawn.

"Until next time, sleemo," he grumbled half-heartedly at the old avian once their business was finally concluded.

"Rrrawk, mee jewz ku Z Man!" the squawking voice followed him out the door as he stepped onto the acrid undercity streets, "Don't be a stranger!"

Raising his collar up as high as possible to obscure his features, the Jedi Knight found himself wishing not for the first time that his custom armored uniform wouldn't be so conspicuous this far down into the undercity. Instead he was dressed in more non-descript heavy leathers, although he still wore his phrik lined vambraces, as they did not show any obvious GADF symbology.

Before he even realized what he was doing, Zark had glanced down outside his jacket to check the power settings on the heavy blaster pistol holstered under his left arm. The instinctual subconscious response was like the thunderclap that preceded a sensation of unease in the Force. It was not a presence exactly, at least he could not be sure of that. More like a fog had settled in all around him, not physical but ethereal. It dulled his senses and threw his anticipation of his own surroundings into disharmony.

The Force worked in mysterious ways, especially for those with the type of innate connection like those chosen to be trained as sages. Disturbances like these could mean any number of things, could have many different causes. It was probably nothing, and even if it was the smartest thing to do would be to contact the Coruscant Security Force or Galactic Alliance Guard for backup.

And yet, when he reached the lift that would take him back up towards Core Plaza and the spaceport that housed his shuttle, he found himself descending farther into the depths of the undercity instead.

[member="Velok the Younger"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Zark"]

"Of all the biomes on all the worlds," Velok said to the Jedi, "I believe I hate ecumenopoleis the most."

The Jedi made no response, as he was missing half his neck and also his soul. Velok continued slicing tricep steaks. This Jedi had been very much of the Darron Wraith school of thought; his voluminous muscles offered a reasonable repast.

"It's so closed-in. Nothing like proper tundra and clean wind. Everything stinks here."

The stone blade rasped against the workbench. Well, it wasn't a workbench, really, just the hood of an old speeder - but a Whiphid's immune system could take anything the Coruscant undercity could dish out. And speaking of dishing out-

Velok slid a number of choice cuts onto a thin metal rod and suspended the kebab over a trash-can fire. He drew a pleased, expansive breath of fragrant smoke as the Jedi kebab began to roast. A scrap of burlap served to clean his ritual knife, which vanished into his robes. The Force dwelt in the meat, preserved by the knife: as soon as the juices hissed in the fire, he scarfed down the kebab and set about making another. The Jedi had been skilled for a Padawan; the Force had lent him speed and strength, and only raw power and resilience had brought him down. Now the old Whiphid clenched his fist and felt a portion of that Padawan's vitality bleed into his own muscles.

"Then again, such places have their charms, don't they, friend?"

Snick, snick. The Padawan said nothing.

 

[Zark San Tekka]

With a rattling sigh, the worn down city lift came to an ominous halt.

Flickering street lights illuminated the undercity street intermittently, which at this low a level was almost a blessing in itself. Graffiti covered the duracrete of cloudscraper underworks on either side, not to mention the crude scrawlings all over the public transport station. Heaving aside malfunctioning lift doors with some effort, Zark stepped gingerly out onto a refuse laden street. 1313 was dangerous enough, but the levels below that were virtually lawless wastelands, the depths of a city world that no police force in the galaxy could hope to protect and serve.

Such grim thoughts in mind, the Vice Admiral did not hesitate to draw his personal sidearm. Nicknamed 'Gloria' by a weapon modder he had dealt with, the heavy blaster was a favorite among Alliance Space Ops marines, and this particular weapon's custom work had expanded its stun capabilities. Still guided by nothing more than a vague sense of warning through the Force, he kept it on standard stun for now, uncertain of what exactly to expect and mindful of how much power the gun's paddle beam mode drained per shot.

The Vice Admiral had hardly made it a city bloc when he sensed their presence, surface contact with the minds all around him suggesting urges for violence almost feral in nature. Zark knew how this type of situation played out, but he was unwilling to let go and turn back for safer territory. He pressed on, and it wasn't much longer before his hunters had him completely surrounded. Only then, did the leader reveal himself to the Knight, a disfigured Houk with one remaining eye the color of murderous crimson.

"Alliance Defense Force," Zark called out, knowing all too well the futility of the gesture, "Stand aside."

A dozen levels above, this would be the part where the bandits began issuing ultimatums, but this far down any sort of conversation was a level of sophistication removed. Before the man in the duster had even finished speaking, a bellow of rage burst from the Houk's lips and he charged. Zark could sense the others converging on him through the Force as well, their gang leader's battle cry apparently doubling as a crude signal to attack.

Stun round after stun round lanced out in practiced succession, each shot temporarily slowing his opponent's advance but obviously insufficient to bring the hulking creature down for good. He would have to end this quickly, for there was a chance that once the whole pack arrived they could succeed in swarming him and overwhelming his defenses. Raising his left, non-prosthetic hand to his side, the Jedi Knight centered himself and manifested a barrier that absorbed several low powered blaster bolts heading in his direction, and then the Houk was upon him.

His opponent leaped as it raised a crude cudgel to bring down on him in an eviscerating strike, and Zark closed his eyes as he sent the neuro-pulse that would activate the hidden compartment within his artificial right forearm. Activating the saber as it sprang out and into his grip, he positioned himself so that the smoky black blade with its shimmering outer shell the shade of burnt embers erupted out of its hilt and directly into the Houk's chest, impaling him center mass.

He was forced to augment his strength in order to lift his slain foe's corpse up and over as an alternative to finding himself crushed underneath its mass. With their leader dispatched, most of the feral bandit pack fled, and the Vice Admiral dispensed of the rest through both supernaturally precise use of his heavy blaster and a few maiming slashers from his saber blade. And yet the victory was a hollow one, for any advantage he may have found in approaching the source of this Force disturbance undetected was now surely gone. The shots fired had echoed through the undercity blocks, and his lightsaber was not exactly quiet.

Still too stubborn to turn back, Zark pressed on, struggling to come down from the adrenaline rush of battle so he could rediscover his center, and let go enough to let the Force guide his steps where it needed him to go.

[member="Velok the Younger"]

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Zark"]

An adult male Whiphid required at least seven thousand calories per day, much of it protein. The Padawan, for all his swoleness, wouldn't sate Velok for long. Besides, another Jedi was out there somewhere. Velok heard a lightsaber and combat but little in the way of death, and that spelled Jedi for certain. You didn't live long down here, or really anywhere, putting principles ahead of continued existence.

Velok's nostrils flared as he watched the visible undercity down the way, down where he expected the Jedi to appear. He picked a string of meat from his teeth and shoved the dead Padawan off the platform's edge. It - the body was certainly an 'it' by now, lacking its major muscle groups - squeezed between a stand of pipes and bounced off a hawkbat nest on its way down. It vanished in the gloom, leaving only a slick of blood around Velok and the burn barrel. He tossed the lightsaber, too. A blade like that would turn against him more likely than not.

Three kebabs still roasted over the barrel. As Zark came into sight around a bend, Velok plucked one off the flame. He held it out toward Zark, who was still a good twenty yards away.

"Would you like some?" he said. "I'm not certain what human mores surround cannibalism, but every world is different. There's Jedi strength in the meat, and you may find you need it."

 

[Zark San Tekka]

"No, thank you," Zark narrowed his eyes, but there was no anger his voice. Just the monotone resignation of having come across one so truly lost, and a little bit of sorrow over what had likely been a grim demise for whoever used to be what was now roasting over this strange Whipid's firepit, "Human feelings on the matter are fairly consistent, and as far as this world killing and eating sentient beings is not only frowned upon, its so...extremely illegal."

The scene he had come upon was surreal, as if straight out of some deviant's nightmares. An ancient, rundown undercity street, from the looks of their surroundings this particular stretch had not been used for anything legitimate in hundreds, perhaps even thousands of years. Galactic City was a concrete jungle in more ways than one. Where the ruins of other planets were hewn from brick or stone, on Coruscant the ruins were long forgotten city blocs and disused industrial sectors.

"Galactic Alliance Defense Force, if that means anything to you," the Jedi said at last, and as he did so he reactivated the energy blade of his burnt orange lightsaber. He tried hard to maintain his discipline and put the sight of what had once been a fellow servant of the Light out of his mind, "I have no particular wish to harm you, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you into custody to await trial and incarceration by the provincial authorities."

For a moment, there was silence between the two. His quarry still hunched over the hood of the landspeeder that had served as a crude sort of workbench for the Sith's ghoulish rituals, Zark adopting the opening stance of Niman.

"By all means, resist arrest."

[member="Velok the Younger"]