STAR WARS: Fugitive

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The dark side is strong in this place, thought Thera as she listened to the exchange between her master and the Neimoidian Lord, Shyk. She could sense that something was not quite right as far as appearances. Her sense was confirmed as she heard the characteristically smooth edge leave Lady A’pratti’ka’s voice. Her master was more focused than she had ever seen before. A’pratti’ka was brewing a storm within the Force, but she was also holding it at bay as she grilled the Neimoidian for information.

A grin twitched slightly on Thera’s face each time she heard her master make him think he had some sort of upper hand in the conversation. A sense of general discomfort throughout the hall was evident in the Force at the beginning of their exchange, but oddly she sensed it did not emanate directly from Shyk until well into the conversation when he began to add to it. But Thera noticed it was also less from the members of the patrons and attendants waiting for their audience with Shyk. She stretched her mind into the Force. She could feel the dominating influence that pervaded the Force since entering the hall slowly eroding under A’pratti’ka’s power, until the two ran together, and A’pratti’ka slowly permeated the controlling power.

The further A’pratti’ka pushed for information from Shyk, the more Thera began to comprehend things about her past. Details extracted from him began to fill gaps in her heavily fragmented memory. Her father, Xen Tykos, had been a Sith Lord. His bend on life had always been toward order in the galaxy, and while he had his own quests for power, he was less prone toward violence, and sought more to comprehend the Force, which divided him from the warriors and conquerors, leaving him to seek domain over more domestic areas of the Sith Empire. He would focus on breeding new Sith to feed the ongoing campaigns against the Republic.

His skills with alchemy drew much attention via word of mouth. He had learned to alter the physiology and biology of sentient beings. He could mend deformities, or make someone taller or shorter. The biggest drawback to receiving his services was the intense pain that followed as the body adjusted to its new form, if their body survived; these changes were more or less permanent. His quest for power lay primarily in perfecting this ability to make way toward full reversibility.

Thera’s mother had originally been a dancer for Shyk. Shyk’s business network consisted of resources via the social networks that frequented his establishment, either through normal patronage or through business transactions that kept the establishment solid and secure. Shyk’s establishment sought Xen’s services in order to enhance the bodies of their workers. At first he refused, trying to avoid proprietary limitations imposed by Shyk’s establishment, until he laid eyes on one of Shyk’s dancers, S’lynda. Taken by her beauty and grace, he consented to servicing the establishment with his abilities with the Force in exchange for credits and exclusive ownership of S’lynda.

Over time, Xen settled on Roon and fell behind in his work due to the time he invested in growing stronger in the Force to perfect his alchemy, and also due to creating a life with S’lynda. Shyk’s regime threatened and murdered S’lynda to motivate Xen to fulfill his quota… wait, who murdered my mother?

“One of my agents,” Shyk’s voice replied to A’pratti’ka as they paced opposite each other in circles surrounded by the tense audience, “I wasn’t there; it wasn’t my call!”

“Name the agent,” A’pratti’ka, demanded softly.

Shyk remained silent, stopping and crossing his arms, and his eyes reducing to narrow, copper slits.

 A’pratti’ka stopped and raised her arm. Shyk’s sofa raised a few meters into the air, then, on cue from A’pratti’ka, it flew toward the dance table where the dancers still stood. In that instant, weapons were heard being activated, and a few of the dancers began launching themselves out of the way, while the others remained too stunned to react. The sofa stopped suddenly in mid air, and then flew aside, smashing to pieces into the near wall. One of the dancers, a rather atypically skinny Askajian wearing gold-plated attire, stood audaciously where the sofa nearly hit, and two lightsaber blades sprang to life from her hands.