D U M B
Rain slid down the towering windows of Darth Prazutis' estate, distorting the lights of Dromund Kaas into wavering ribbons of white and crimson. Thunder rolled somewhere beyond the endless skyline, echoing between the city's countless spires before fading beneath the steady drone of traffic. Military transports crossed the storm-dark sky with growing frequency, descending toward government towers and fleet installations before disappearing into the rain. The city had always been alive, but lately it moved with unmistakable purpose as the Empire prepared for the war everyone could feel drawing closer.
Aerik sat alone at the workstation built into one wall of his quarters, the surface illuminated by holographic diagnostics projected above the pieces of armor spread before him. Sections of dark phrik plating rested in careful order, each one waiting beneath the scanner while replacement components, calibration tools, and diagnostic modules occupied the remaining space. Every item sat exactly where the young Sith had placed it. There was comfort in the order, especially when so much beyond his control refused to stay that way.
A quiet chime sounded as the scanner completed its analysis of the breastplate. Blue lines traced across the internal framework, highlighting microscopic stress fractures where repeated impacts had begun to fatigue the armor's structure. Most fell well within operational tolerances, but one articulation module near the right shoulder had not.
Aerik released the magnetic housing with a practiced motion and lifted the damaged component free. The fracture was almost invisible until he turned it beneath the light, revealing a hairline split running through the reinforced alloy. No diagnostic was needed to tell Prazutis' apprentice where it had come from. His master had a habit of finding weaknesses, whether they belonged to a stance, a technique, or a suit of armor. If something could fail, Prazutis would expose it before an enemy ever had the chance. The lessons left bruises that lingered longer than Aerik cared to admit, but every flaw corrected here was one less waiting for him when the fighting became real.
A replacement module slid into place with a soft click as the magnetic locks engaged. Moments later, the armor synchronized with the new hardware and another diagnostic swept across the display. Aerik waited until the warning vanished before reaching for the next section.
The work had become familiar over the past several months. Each armor segment was inspected, repaired where necessary, recalibrated, and verified before the next took its place on the bench. The routine occupied his hands while allowing his thoughts just enough room to wander.
Aerik's attention drifted toward the windows as another formation of transports crossed the skyline. Nobody had announced that war was coming because nobody needed to. It lived in the military traffic threading its way through the city, in the officers arriving to meet with Prazutis at every hour, and in the encrypted reports that never seemed to stop appearing on his master's desk. Even the estate carried a different rhythm now, with staff moving more quickly and security patrols passing through the halls more often than before. Soon, preparation would give way to battle.
The apprentice detached the forearm assembly from one vambrace and watched another diagnostic cascade across the display. The impact dampeners had drifted slightly out of alignment after the last training session, so the calibration was adjusted a fraction at a time until the system returned a nominal response. After cycling the servos through their full range of motion, Aerik sealed the housing once more and placed the repaired piece beside the others.
Preparation had become habit.
There was no diagnostic capable of explaining what had happened on Brosi. His memory simply stopped and resumed sometime later, leaving an empty stretch where an entire chain of events should have been. Everything Aerik knew about that day had come from Irina and Skadi. They had carried the truth for him when he could not remember it himself, and neither had hidden what happened, no matter how much it hurt to hear.
Prazutis had taken that truth and built every lesson afterward around it. The wolf had not failed him, and understanding that distinction became the foundation of his training. Something else had answered when weakness left an opening, and the only answer his master accepted was discipline. Every spar, every meditation, and every exhausting exercise carried the same purpose: make certain that weakness never found the same opening again.
The coming war made that question harder to ignore. Training was one thing. A battlefield filled with blood, fear, and people he cared about was another. Part of Aerik wondered whether everything Prazutis had forced him to become would hold when there was no master standing nearby to drag him back under control.
The final diagnostic completed, replacing the last amber warning with a clean line of green confirmations. Aerik let the display linger for a moment before shutting it down and setting the repaired armor beside the remaining pieces. His gaze drifted toward the orange lightsaber resting at the far edge of the workstation. Doubt would not make him stronger. Another hour of preparation would.
As the young Lechner reached for the final armor segment, another sound separated itself from the rain striking the windows and the muted activity elsewhere in the estate. Most people would have heard only approaching footsteps. Aerik heard the heartbeat beneath them, steady and unmistakable, its familiar rhythm drawing an unconscious smile to his face before he even realized it.
A heartbeat raced down the hall and seemed to speed up outside his door.
The lock disengaged with a quiet click.
"I can hear your heartbeat..."
Aerik looked up as the door slid open, and the weight of the evening eased the moment his eyes found hers. The pup smiled.
"...I missed you."
