She accepts.

“I accept your help.”

Michael waited but she didn’t continue. “That’s it?”

“I thought you would be happy that your manipulation worked. Does me submitting not please you?”

He couldn’t sense any conflict within her, the storm of twisting shadow and light that had begun to manifest within her subsided, replaced by an unwelcome calm. “It just doesn’t fit with the image I have of you. I expected you to resist, saying I was wrong. Blast I half expected you to attack.”

Projecting a composed demeanor Juhani began the track to the Enclave, passing her would-be schemer. “You sound almost disappointed.”

“I guess I am,” giving a hearty chuckle Michael turned to follow in Juhani’s stead but felt the cold unforgiving steel of a lightsaber silently kiss his temple. He froze, his eyes straining to find Juhani who stood just out of his peripheral view.

“I will say this only once, Michael Hazelton so listen closely.”

“You have my attention Juhani.”

“I accept your help in finding Belaya, but should you prove to be a danger after that to either myself, Belaya or the Order I will not hesitate in killing you.” In an almost sensual whisper she added “I will be your doom.”

That's more like it. “Understood.”

The two continued toward the Enclave without incident or idle chatter. Instead Juhani kept to herself while Michael listened to the echoes of the deceased; hearing the final words of a prayer from the lips of a cadaver as their soul left them, the dreams of a young albino couple starting up a family, the ambition of a single father seeking to start his own galaxy spanning corporation and the hope of a lowly Padawan that the war would come to an end before they found themselves on the battlefield.

Michael was so preoccupied he had not heard Juhani’s words ordering him to halt, stopping only when he felt the Cathar’s firm hand grip his shoulder.

“W...what?”

“We have arrived.”

Michael finally took notice how long he had been engraved on listening to the whispers. A full hour had passed and they were well and truly in the Enclave, or what remained of it anyway. The godling reached out, feeling no life in this section of ruble and debris. “Have you already scoured this section for survivors?”

“Yes, I found two here.”

Again Michael sensed nothing, taking to craning his head left to right scanning the ruble for signs of life. “Well where are they? Did you take them deeper inward?”

Juhani smiled plucking two fist-sized pieces of a retaining wall from the ground before casting them into a large pile of ruble. After the second projectile reflected off it, the pile shifted sprouting a vision of exquisite beauty from its filthy base.

Being buried alive and malnourished did nothing to hinder the beauty that Yuthura Ban embodied. Even with her former Sith uniform tarnished and covered in grim, her flawless lilac complexion shined through. Her lips were as full as Juhani’s but Michael couldn’t decipher any more without getting a closer inspection.

“Welcome back Juhani. Who’s this you brought with you?”

“This is Michael Hazelton, he has offered his aid in finding the other survivors.” A small dismissive gesture in his direction she continued. “Just watch him; I feel has more interest in his machinations then actually doing actual good.”

Michael gripped his chest in feigned pain. “You wound me Juhani, slandering my image before Yuthura as you do.”

The lavender Twi’lek shifted her gaze between the strange Human and Jedi. “Did you tell him about me?”

Juhani shook her head as she navigated the treacherous route of loose ruble to reach the Twi’lek. Placing a comforting arm around her shoulder. “He’s strong in the **** and uniquely gifted in post cognition and premonitions. He’s offering us his talents in finding other survivors timelier in exchange for something only the two of us and another can provide.”

What the hell am I watching?

The mortal turned god didn’t need the **** to tell him what was playing out in the Twi’lek’s head as she studied him more intently.

“Don’t make it sound so dirty Juhani.” Michael grumbled carefully following Juhani’s path up toward Yuthura. “Who else did you find alongside my favorite Twi’lek?” A coughing fit was his answer which doubled his efforts. He arrived just in time to see the two women he intended to make his followers tending to a Togruta male, adorned in a humble sash similar to a Greek toga.

Yuthura was wiping the sweat from his brow with her sleeve when Juhani spoke. “This is Jedi Master Tanzaar Havri, he shielded Yuthura and a few others when the orbital bombardment started. But the others succumb to their wounds, we fear Master Havri will to.”

Who the hell is he? I don’t remember a Togruta Jedi Master by that name. Michael stared at the Jedi Master, both Yuthura & Juhani taking his silence as a sign of reverence and assessing the damage to his body.

Remembering who was with him, the godling looked past the physical and into the ****. Michael could see the faults; the errors within the Togruta’s mind and body. There were countless minor fractures starting at the base of his shoulders and spiraling downward. But no internal trauma to the organs and no breaks, the man was lucky.

His mind was a web of broken strands and misfiring synapse. But Michael didn’t know how to interpreter that. He was no neurologist and even as a god he wasn’t omniscient.

As he attempted to reach deeper into the Togruta’s mind Michael was met with fierce resistance. Walls made up from years of meditation and tireless perseverance had erected a mighty fortress that barred the way to his more inner thoughts. Rejected and a little disappointed he returned to using his eyes and turned to the crowd of onlookers.

Judging by a lack of a full body cast to immobilize the Togruta, Michael summed up his deduction in two words. “Healing trance?”

Both Yuthura and Juhani nodded simultaneously.

“Rations?”

“We had a little, we couldn’t go to any of the private residents out of fear they may turn us over to the Sith and so we went to a nearby farmer and they provided us with what they could.”

“Where they the Moraals I presume?”

Juhani nodded and Yuthura let her next question die in her throat.

A sigh escaped him as the he pointed off into the distance. “Yuthura could you please get the supplies I brought with me they are in a speeder just overlooking the Enclave. Juhani lets start searching for Belaya.”

Yuthura sprinted off in the direction Michael had indicated as Juhani dropped into a meditative posture with Michael sitting across from her a perfection mirror.

“I’m going to need your hands Juhani.”

Without comment the Cathar entangled her fingers with his and as one they each delved into the ****; scouring the landscape for life. The **** of countless Jedi and innocents occurred here so when Michael envisioned the blba tree to precisely locate Belaya the once healthy white bark of the tree appeared as a sickly black husk. Its branches rotten; twisted and coiling around the once healthy white roots shaped in several designs of humanoids present to Dantooine. Each root bore a ghastly expression on their faces as their existence was snuffed out.

Michael felt Juhani’s grip tighten. She to saw this, she understood what these effigies meant within the ****. Giving a reassuring squeeze of his own, the godling pressed onward, flying past one rotted root after another until he caught sight of a blemish of life amid a sea ****.

“There,” he felt himself whisper drawing Juhani’s presence to his discovery. He felt her spirit herself towards the beacon of life, engraving to memory where this was in the physical ruins of the Enclave. Michael’s own satisfaction obscured his other senses and failed to feel the approaching danger and was confused why Juhani had broken the connection between the two when she withdrew her hands from his own.

The god was about to inquire as to why she had done this when he felt the sun on his face. It’s warm life giving rays reinvigorating him. He smiled basking in the heat as it grew hotter, slowly passing from enjoyable into the realm of stifling.

He opened it eyes to see a flash of purple sparks; conjured by the meeting of a scarlet and sky blue blades. Michael fell back in a gasp, two blades clashing mere centimeters from his face. Two silhouettes towered over him broke their struggle and separated, one the lithe feline figure of Juhani; her lightsaber held in a defensive cadence of Ataru. The other –the god had seen only once before in a distant vision of the past– held his lightsaber in a one-handed high guard the blade held horizontally above his head.

This man bore the color of the waters of Manaan; a deep suffocating azure on his skin and lacked any visible tattoos. The alien radiated confidence and absolute joy at the prospect at killing a Jedi Knight. His emotions were palpable in the **** but only showing a vacant expression.

Michael had enough time to scramble back another few feet before the two moved as one. Juhani opting for a quick resolution to the battle sidestepped her opponent’s first strike and swung low cutting at the man’s leg. Yet scarlet halted her blade and the Sith pressed the Cathar away with a succession of flourishing thrusts at her legs in turn. Juhani choose to dodge; relying on her natural speed and agility rather than try to block them all. The brief exchange had been the span of a few heartbeats and the two were once again staring one another down.

Juhani spared the briefest of glances towards Michael ensuring he was okay. Satisfied she refocused on her opponent. “What’s your name Sith?”

“I don’t concern myself with the whimpers of corpses.”

“Cute.”

Again the two moved in unison, Juhani leap her body pivoting in the air, her blade slashing at the man’s head only to slice air as the man ducked, forcing Juhani to quickly use the **** to right herself as she touched down and deflected the Twi’lek’s riposte with a rising parry.

It was at this time Yuthura emerged still carrying the rations she had been requested to retrieve. She dropped the food and made a move to join the melee, only for Michael to halt her.

“She has this, Yuthura.”

“We must help.”

“We are.”

“How are we helping by just standing here?”

“It is by standing here we are helping. You are without your weapon –your lightsaber– having abandoned it alongside the dark side after you slew your former master Uthar Wynn back on Korriban inside the Tomb of Naga Sadow.”

“So Juhani was correct, you do see visions of the past.”

Michael was amused sparing a brief glance towards the violet flower. “Did you doubt her?”

“No.”

He only nodded in acknowledgement his focus returning to the battle before him just as the duelists clashed blades once more. Sparks flew for a moment before the azure Twi’lek delivered a ****-imbued kick straight into Juhani’s midsection sending her back four paces and onto the defensive.

“Even without a weapon I still have the ****!” Yuthura replied.

“Yes, much like a lightsaber – the **** – only achieves worth in how it is wielded and thus we struggle and make choices that affect us and those around us.”

Yuthura seemed seconds away from forcing her way passed so Michael clarified.

“All I’m saying is that you think before you decide upon your next course of actions. Besides using the **** as a weapon isn’t the Jedi way.”

“Jedi attack only as a means of last resort, we seek to protect the innocent.”

“Then why didn’t you save the Moraals?”

“They’re dead?”

Surprised Michael pulled his attention back to the Twi’lek at his side. “So Juhani never told you. Yes, I found them; their bodies were brutally tortured and mutilated.”

“Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It was because you weren’t thinking of the consequence of your actions. You were only thinking of your empty bellies. Much like the Enclave Council; when they granted civilians the right to use the exterior grounds of the Enclave to gather and trade during war time. The Council should have known sooner or later the Enclave was going to be targeted.”

“So by asking the Moraals for supplies…”

“Resulted in their deaths and the Sith watching their house for the off chance you may return. This in turn allowed them to follow me to you.”

Yuthura lowered her gaze. “I still need to do something.”

“Fine,” raising his hand nonchalantly Michael pointed to a pile of ruble off in the distance that matched the scenery where he had located Belaya. “Begin moving those stones; I believe survivors are over there.”

“You’re just saying this now?!” she shouted, enhancing her speed with the **** and closing the distance in a few paces.

I really do feel like an ass for doing this. The god thought to himself; toying with a piece of the retaining wall in his hand, while Yuthura began the strenuous task of lifting the stonework with the ****.

A series of crosscuts and overhead strikes rained down upon Juhani; her opponent had cracked two of her ribs with that last kick and his blade kissed her left bicep and thigh soon afterwards. Even drawing on the **** she was beginning to feel fatigue set in.

I need to put him down now! She thought and lunged but overextended herself, something the Sith took full advantage of as he sidestepped and swung for her exposed wrist. **** to decide on losing her hand, her weapon or both Juhani withdrew her hand from her weapon; its blue blade receding back into the hilt just in time to save her hand and see her weapon fall to the ground inactive, but still functional.

Another ****-imbued kick folded Juhani onto the ground. Victorious the Sith gloated; as they tended to do with a cheer of bestial rage. His weapon raised high for the killing blow. Both combatants looked to their audience, the Twi’lek; wishing to see the expression of dread and sorrow in the Jedi’s companions just before he slew her. Juhani; pleading for her fellows to flee, to escape this planet and her fate. Michael had remained where he had been since the duel began and Yuthura was…was…

Juhani focused in on Yuthura her killer forgotten. She dug and was actively pulling something free. The Cathar’s heart sputtered in anticipation to seeing her friend alive and well but grew cold when she saw Belaya her body twisted and broken; one arm hanging by a few strands of meat her head lolling.

Losing something she loved had ripped her open in a way Juhani had not expected, but feared. The pain hurt, not emotionally –that was present – but this pain was more physical than anything else. Her blood seemed to boil in her veins, her muscles tightened with renewed power, a power she had only experienced in the Grove during her brief fall to the dark side.

Using that pain, using that hatred and feeding off the anger Juhani unleashed a blast of power that saw her to her feet, the Twi’lek in retreat and her lightsaber finding her hand. Eschewing speed and grace for power, Juhani loosed a flurry of rapid strikes all bent on putting a black canyon on the Twi’lek’s chest.

The Sith on the defensive for the first time since the start of the melee gave ground as he worked on deflected the berserk-like strikes of the Cathar. He was confident in his prowess with a lightsaber; he had been the most talented and skilled among the other Padawans and Sith Apprentices.

None at the Sith Academy had bested him and that wouldn’t change now. Taking another half measured step back his footwork faltered a piece of the retaining wall that had not been there a moment ago was having him perform a one man balancing act.

Juhani did not hesitate nor did she gloat, she struck, fast and without mercy. Bringing the lightsaber down in an overhead strike that left a black line from the Twi’lek's brow to his groin. The Sith stood for the entire span of a single heartbeat before the body split down the middle.

Michael clasped his hands together in congratulations to Juhani victory before he went to inspect Belaya. To his great surprise she was not alone in her grave. Four others shared it and all seemed to be alive and able to move.

Each of the survivors were no older than fourteen or fifteen, dressed in the robes of the Jedi the braids marking them as Padawan Learners. “How are you all unharmed?” Michael voiced as Yuthura looked after the injured Belaya.

“Master Belaya saved us.” One spoke out.

“She used the **** to shield us.” Voiced another.

Juhani shuffled past Michael, greeting each of the learners by name and applauding their bravery in such a dangerous time. After spending a few more moments with them she ushered them to gather by Master Havri.

As soon as they were out of ear shot a murderous intent oozed off the Cathar, directed straight at Michael.

“Something to say Juhani or do you wish to threaten me again?”

“Remember my words Michael Hazleton.”

Michael quoted her threat word for word. “Should I prove to be a danger to either yourself, Belaya or the Order you won’t hesitate in killing me.”

“Correct.”

“So, do you perceive me as a danger to Belaya, your Order or yourself?”

“I do.”

“Then why are you hesitating?”

Yuthura answered for her. “Because she believes we still need you.”

Michael gave the Twi’lek a little wink. “That I do and don’t forget it. I intend on having you two help me in keeping a promise.”

“What’s the promise?” Juhani inquired her arms crossed, her eyes never leaving Belaya.

“Later, first we must tend to something in the present.”

The Cathar raised a single eye brow. “Such as?”

Michael slowly pointed to the mangled right arm of Belaya. “It is already lost to her, held only by a few cords of sinew and meat. Her chances of survival will be better if we remove it, cauterizing the wound in the process.”

A lion’s growl emanated from Juhani’s throat. “You don’t touch her!”

“I’m not the one with the lightsaber Juhani. You would need to do it, you or Yuthura.”

Yuthura weighed in. “I agree with him Juhani. We can’t tourniquet her arm with it hanging it like this and gods forbid she regains consciousness with it hanging there. Do you really want her to see this?” she gestures to the ruined meat that was once her dominate arm.

The god bowed to Juhani, pitying her for the choices she had been **** to make. “I’ll leave you to decide in private. Find me when you’re ready to find transport off this world.” He departed, heading towards the comatose Jedi Master and the Padawans before doubling back to retrieve the fallen Sith’s weapon.

The weapon was in excellent condition and had been well maintained by its previous owner, Michael slipped it into his vest for later. This will come in handy.

As Michael joined up with the Padawans at last he heard a brief snap and hiss of a lightsaber quickly activating and then going silent. He knew Juhani had made her decision.

Small talk between the Padawans was increasingly difficult as they didn’t act like fourteen or fifteen year olds. Answering any question Michael thought of in quick yes or no answers, never giving their own opinion on the subject.

It was Yuthura who came and found Michael whom had given up talking to the kids; who had entered a meditative trance to re center themselves and commune with the ****. “It’s done,” she whispered taking a seat across from him.

He almost asked who did the cutting but figured that was asking too much. “I take it you all are ready to leave?”

“Yes, where is your ship?”

“My ship?”

“Yes, you’re ship; Juhani said you arrived on the planet just days before. I can only assume you arrived in a ship fast and small enough to bypass the blockade above.”

“I didn’t arrive via a starship Yuthura.”

“Then how?”

A string of small ticks began to appear as this was one of the things Michael found he couldn’t lie about. “I traveled here through the **** Yuthura. I didn’t need a ship to arrive.”

It wasn’t surprising she didn’t believe him. “No such technique, among the Sith or Jedi exists. If you don’t want to help us get off world then stop wasting our time.” She rose from her seat to leave but stopped when Michael gently grasped her wrist.

“You are correct, there isn’t a technique known among the Jedi or Sith that allows for such travel.”

“So you admit you have a ship.”

To answer, Michael demonstrated the power even though he was loathed to do so. Slower than last time he gradually abandoned all perceptions of the world around; drawing in the **** as he did so until in an eye blink he was gone.

“By the ****,” she rose to her feet, scanning both physically and with the **** to ensure this wasn’t another **** technique or a simple stealth field generator at work. Michael reappeared beside where Yuthura had just been sitting his hand extended cradling an exotic flower the color of a setting sun.

She took the flower, inspecting it. “What type is this? I’ve never seen it before.”

“I haven’t named it yet, they just bloomed a few days ago actually on a world I was just at.”

“How far can you travel?”

“Not sure, I picked that flower in the Unknown Regions.”

Yuthura sat back down, this was too much all at once. “But this is good, you can transport us off Dantooine in seconds. In fact you could transport entire armies behind Sith lines.” She slowly began to realize the military value in such a technique.

“I’ve never tried bringing more than one person. I don’t even know if it will work. For all I know I may arrive at the destination, but the other guy may turn up in the depths of space.”

“Oh…”

“Given time perhaps I could but for now I would rather not risk it. We need a ship.”

“Any ideas?”

“Yeah.”

After discussing the plan at length with Yuthura they brought it to Juhani who had some…disagreements.

“Absolutely not!”

“But it’s a sound plan.” Yuthura countered.

“With Malak dead communication is most likely stagnate within the Sith ranks, especially with the other Sith Lords vying for control. So most of the grunts don’t know of Yuthura’s defection, we can just walk in through the front door and demand transit off planet.”

As they were having this debate Michael stole a glance at Belaya who had remained asleep even after the removal of her damaged arm. Her body had taken a thrashing but she seemed stable, but that wasn’t going to last forever without proper medical facilities.

“We can’t send you in alone.” Juhani pointed out.

“She won’t be alone, I’m going with her.” Michael pointed out.

“Why would you be going? I’m the stealth expert, why wouldn’t I go?”

Both Yuthura and Michael shared a look. “No offense Juhani, but you look too much like a Jedi. Yuthura is already in uniform and me I don’t even remotely look like either.”

It took a little more convincing but finally Juhani agreed and began readying everyone for transport. It was agreed Juhani should use the Moraal’s speeder to help ferry survivors to the ship once we acquired one. When both of them asked what they would be riding Michael pointed out the bike the Sith had arrived in. This had been half an hour ago and they were just about ready to leave and head to the Sith encampment when Michael presented Yuthura with the Sith’s lightsaber. “You don’t have to use it, but it will add to your disguise and give you an air of authority.” She silently clipped it to her belt.

“Did you want to drive?” she spoke up after inspect the speeder bike.

“I don’t think it’ll look good to the Sith troopers to see a Sith riding bitch.”

“What?”

“Nothing, you can drive.” Michael quickly corrected himself, letting her get on first before he wrapped his hands around her waist. He almost instinctively copped a feel but stopped himself, her scent was intoxicating. As they sped across Dantooine, Michael couldn’t help the tightness in his trousers as he grinded against the Twi’leks ass in no small part to the vibrations of the bike.

Unable to bear it, Michael loosened his pants and let his cock breathe; for the first time since he became a god, when he got a wild and crazy idea. Convincing Yuthura to raise her ass a bit the god felt his dick get buried as she rested her rear once more, trapping his dick between her bottom and the seat.

With the vibrations from the bike and the thin material of her underwear and pants Michael felt every curve and moist inch of her pussy as it lay across his length. His instincts told him to pump his hips and so he did shouting. “Faster! Faster!” furthering his fall into debauchery.

As more blood flowed southward, his cock curved and began poking her clitoris. This was the first actual response he got from Yuthura who gave out a loud yelp and shifted, moving his tool away. Wanting her to feel good to Michael redoubled his thrusting efforts, slowly working his way back towards her clit.

The bike slowed to a calming glide across the planet’s surface, reducing the once buckling vibrations to a soft murmur, which was no good. Using his left hand, Michael pinned Yuthura’s hand beneath his own and revved the speeder bike’s engine once, twice, before blasting it up to full.

He felt like he was dying of thirst, with the notion for more pleasure on his mind. The more he pondered the notion, the more needful it became. Using his right hand, he uncurled it from Yuthura’s waist and went straight for her clit; rewarding him with the bike swerving left to right, nearly colliding with a lone kath hound as Yuthura thrashed her pelvis this way and that.

“Faster!” Michael heard himself snarl, telling the Twi’lek how to pleasure him when he remembered that a Twi’lek’s lekku were extremely sensitive. Using the tip of his tongue, Yuthura’s molester ran the length of her headtails in several slow sensual takes, ending the final time by taking the tip into his mouth.

Treating it like a woman’s nipple he sucked, hard, rolling the tip of it between his teeth and exploring it with his tongue. Her thighs locked up as Michael continued pumping; Yuthura’s buttocks clenched along the length of his shaft as he removed his left hand from the accelerator and placed it onto her shoulder and pushed her tighter to the seat as he came. Michael was silent as Yuthura’s butt milked him for all he was worth. That silence stretched on as Michael expected the Twi’lek to pull over and throttle him or berate him. But she didn’t he was beginning to believe she had enjoyed it as much as he did by her bated breath and crimson cheeks.

He was wrong of course, for when they arrived Yuthura delivered a kick that shattered the very bone that violated her. Michael was in the process of curling himself up into a ball when Yuthura whispered just loud enough for only him to hear. “Do you see me as some schutta to be admired and used at your own expense?”

Michael’s head swiveled to the left and right as he struggled to form words. “Of course not I…” another thunderous kick this time to the side of his head; nearly made the godling black out, his vision refocusing as he saw the fiery Twi’lek storm over to the hastily constructed refreshers. “Start the search!” he heard her snarl before vanishing behind durasteel walls.

A few Sith troopers had witnessed this exchange and didn’t question his presence in their base, but nor did they attempt to render assistance. Standing sent an electric shock through the god’s balls and head, but he remained stationary.

The location of the Sith foothold on Dantooine had been chosen wisely. With flat lands in all directions they had a clear visual on anyone approaching and departing. Anti-Air emplacements dotted the four corners of the military compound with a mock wall and guard towers alongside them. The majority of the soldiers were bedecked in the traditional silver sheen.

The armor was designed specifically to induce fear in opponents. The armor casing consisted of several plates that protected the vital areas of the wearer over a full black body glove. The one-way visor in the helmet emphasized terror, projecting a faceless, soulless combatant.

Michael noted a few personnel in a rouge variant, noting their heavy repeating blasters over the standard issue carbines and rifles he had seen up till now. Something else worthy of note were the number of civilians within the encampment.

After a few hushed inquires, Michael learned of a smuggler by the name of Captain Elizac Drehar. Who repaired and sold replacement parts and gear damaged or confiscated by the Sith occupation ****. It was readily apparent that this smuggler was working alongside the Sith.

It was a cleaver plan, the soldiers broke and stole what wasn’t easily replaced and the civilians came to pay the smuggler for a replacement. The Sith in turn gets a kick back in exchange for their continued silence and compliance.

It took another twenty minutes for Michael to find the line of civvies leading to the corrupt smuggler. The god was content to wait his turn at the back of the line when he felt Yuthura’s return.

“What are you doing?” she shouted, playing the role of Sith rather well, though it was clear she was still a bit miffed.

Michael jumped into his role of servant quickly. “W…waiting in line?”

Grabbing him she spoke clearly annoyed. “Did I tell you to wait in line? No, I distinctively remember telling you to go find me a ship!”

Bowing and scraping he answered. “I did though, a smuggler by the name of Elizac Drehar may book you passage off world…I was just waiting in line to...”

Her hand dug into his face and shook him for emphasis. “Again with this line business,” she dragged him from the line and pushed him forward. “Go now!” In his part, Michael looked at the person who was previously in front of him.

They offered no objection and also appeared to be a little apologetic in his suffering. Michael bypassed the line, Yuthura a few steps behind under the guise that he didn't mess up any further. Clearing the line she broke character. “Sorry about all that had to make it look good.”

Rubbing his now pained jaw Michael took in Yuthura. The refresher station had rejuvenated the Twi’lek, her skin was no longer marred by flakes of dirt and dust; she even found a new uniform. The thought of dirtying her again began to make the man hard so he quickly looked elsewhere. “No problem,” he shifted on his feet, eyeing a passing droid quietly adding “Sorry about before.”

The two had just started marveling at the frigate sized starship when a protocol droid shuffled forward.

The droid looked ancient, with rust being the only thing holding it together. “How may I help the Sith Empire?”

Yuthura falling back into her former persona as Sith instructor took charge and answer. “Take me to Elizac Drehar immediately, I wish to make him an offer.”

“Very well, my master is free. Will your **** be joining?”

Michael felt a ping within Yuthura; the memories of past indignities she suffered while a **** on Sleheyron boiled to the surface. She gritted her teeth but remained focused. “Yes.”

The droid appeared to do a jig, acknowledging her response and leaded the pair inside. The ship was a Heraklon-class transport, frigate class with enough room to ferry nearly five-hundred passengers. The hold was the first room the pair passed through. Cargo lined the walls and corridors, with rows upon rows of crates labeled non-perishables were stacked high next to a pair of deactivated construction droids.

Those considered crew aboard were droids, some were **** droids illegally obtained no doubt and poorly painted to resemble security droids others were simple maintenance droids; designed to keep the ship running.

Captain Elizac Drehar was a cyborg; his face divided down the middle by metal visually making him more machine then man, though that didn’t stop him from staring at Yuthura’s chest from the moment they entered the room. She ignored this while Michael seethed silently. After declining his offer for refreshments Yuthura pitched her offer, transport off world for her and a few other slaves.” She struggled on that word, she loathed labeling another with it, the thought of her not caring for it before during her time as a Sith frightened her.

Elizac considered her proposition for the span of a few seconds before laughing out loud. “Why would I want to leave? I’m making a killing selling my goods to these poor dimwitted bastards. Unless you can offer up more than what I earn in a week I’m going to have to turn you down.” What he was suggesting was clear by the lecherous glint in his one organic eye; thankfully Yuthura didn’t feel it was necessary to smash this man’s nuts though Michael felt himself in disagreement but kept his opinion to himself.

“I’m afraid not, thank you for your time.” She bowed and motioned for Michael to follow, the two were just down the hall from Drehar’s office when Yuthura hit the wall with an empowered ****-kick leaving an impressive dent behind.

“That filth!”

“I know, I hope you don’t lump him in with me.”

“How can you joke about this? Without his ship we have no way of escape.” Yuthura began pacing as she thought. “What else do we have to trade?”

Michael considered offering the man a place on his world but reconsidered. Yuthura took his silence as something different. “Do you think I should use…” she didn’t finish, the ship shook when Michael slammed his fist into the neighboring wall, leaving a dent far larger than Yuthura’s.

“No.”

“But,”

“NO!” He would not let her; he would not let that walking vibrator touch her. Michael felt himself shack in anger but kept it from contaminating his words which emerged from his lips as overly neutral and emotionless despite how much he was seething. “It was wrong of me for giving in to my desires like that. For molesting you as I did and for that I am sorry. To start making amends I shall get us passage aboard this ship. Go get the others; I’ll deal with the smuggler.”

A single look from Michael told Yuthura the matter was closed. She departed soon after on the same speeder they had arrived in. When Michael reentered the smuggler’s office the cyborg was aiming a blaster pistol at him, a small holo vid on the man’s desk replaying Michael and Yuthura’s conversation in loop.

“Don’t move.”

“I have need of you Drehar.”

“Don’t care, you’ve nothing to trade and impersonating a Sith isn’t something the Empire looks favorably on. Only other Sith here on the planet is a Twi’lek but he isn’t as good looking as that one. I’ve already signaled for the Sith. They’ll be here long before that bugslut gets back. You get to live, as long as you don’t move until they get here.”

Michael exhaled, sending a small gust of power towards the pistol. It wasn’t strong enough to dislodge the weapon from the cyborg’s mechanical grip as Michael had hoped, but it was enough to overcharge the power cell. The explosion was rather unimpressive, the pistol was there one minute and gone the next replaced by a cloud of sparks and heated metal. The same disappearing act also seemed to have stripped the cyborg of his hand.

Drehar unsure of what just happened looked as his missing limb dumbfounded before coming to the realization that his pistol had just malfunctioned. A mechanical scream escaped his organic lips and the sound of metal footfalls outside the door reacted.

The lone **** droid had a rectangular box for a head and similarly bulky body but maintained a humanoid shape. Its programming was basic as it came, but had enough sense to take aim at the only other organic being in the room that wasn’t its master. If it had been smarter, it would have simply opened fire rather than waiting for orders.

A gust of power flew through the droid having a similar effect as it had done on the pistol. Its motors stalled as its complex and highly sensitive circuitry melted as lightning ran through it. A single puff of smoke escaped its box head before it collapsed, now just a common paperweight. A third gust sent the smuggler careening into the wall; halting his short lived attempt at escape. The cyborg cradled his mangled arm as Michael walked around the desk, standing above him like the god he was.

“What drives you Drehar?”

The man answered with pain in his words.

"The urge to space you is at the top of my list currently."

Michael dismissed the crude remark with a bored wave. "Besides that," and sent an impulse to answer truthfully into the organic portion of the man's brain.

Drehar's face twisted and contorted at the thought of answering honestly repeated itself again and again in his subconscious. But the cold, calculating software implanted in his head halted his manipulations in there tracks with brief and mild electric shocked to his cerebrum.

By the third shock to his system any influence Michael had gained was gone. "That's not going to work, the Sith tried the same thing when I first arrived to no avail."

"Whether you like it or not, you work for me Drehar and here’s your first lesson under my rule. It’s important not to lose sight of what drives you, but the moment you put your desires before my own. They will be lost to you.” A small tingling birthed itself behind the cyborg's only organic eye.

At first he thought it was nerve damage when he collided with the wall, which would have been preferable to what was truly occurring. Deliberately slowly to ensure the man remained conscious for his punishment.

Michael plucked the smuggler's eye from his metal fused skull with nothing but the ****.

“That was for your impertinence towards myself and for ogling Yuthura.” Michael waited as the cyborg Captain screamed and tried to stem the flow of blood that streamed from his eye socket. “I trust I need not take the other eye?”

“NO!” the man screamed. “I’ve learned, I’ve learned!” he was blubbering as he repeated himself several more times. “I’ve learned, I’ve learned, I’ve learned.”

“Good, do you have access codes to bypass the Sith blockade in orbit around Dantooine?”

“Yes, they gave me the codes to help bring in supplies for them and myself.”

“Then get yourself patched up and stall those soldiers you so rudely summoned. They better not hinder Yuthura or her fellows. Otherwise I may take something that isn’t so easily replaced by cybernetics.” The captain made no comment only getting to his feet and making a b-line to the med bay.

Upon Yuthura’s return with Juhani and the Jedi survivors the line of civvies outside Drehar’s vessel had doubled in size. A contingent of soldiers at the front of it didn’t help either, with Drehar; a fresh kolto patch over his eye, tried to mediate the situation but to no avail.

The crowd grew only more belligerent when Juhani and company began pushing their way towards the ship, a few Sith troopers moved on an intercept course. All the while Michael looked on in growing frustration atop the loading ramp.

Damn fools.

It was with a voice empowered by the **** and his divine will that the commotion ceased and every pair of eyes fell onto him. Not literally thankfully.

With a deep booming voice Michael spoke a simple command. “Get aboard,” be they the injured Jedi, the civilians waiting to trade or the Sith troopers here to restore order, all were influenced, all obeyed and like drones obeying a hive mind filed into the cargo hold.

Only the cyborg seemed to be unaffected, which lead Michael to dissect him with his incredulous stare. Even the metal half of the man’s face seemed to break out in a sweat as he suffered under the weight of his oppressor.

“Need I say it again Drehar?” Michael spoke, after a moment of the cyborg still standing passively amid a sea of bodies.

“No sir!” Elizac pushed through the dazed and expressionless crowd reaching Michael in record time; which earned him an nod.

“Ready the ship I want it to jump into hyperspace as soon as we reach the void.”

“Yes sir!”

Both Yuthura and Juhani escorted the injured Belaya and the still entranced Togruta Jedi Tanzaar Havri to the med bay where Belaya was placed inside a kolto tank alongside the Togruta. Sometime later they found Michael sitting outside the brig which confined the Sith troopers who had come aboard alongside the farmers.