"-he gonna be okay with that?" she asks, incredulous. "I guess - Force - Jedi are so fucked up. You don't touch peoples' lightsabers." There's no heat behind the statement; it's obvious enough that Isk didn't know.

Bewildered whistle. They will set the lightsaber down, though? They don't want to agitate their host. It's a bit more out of the way here than it was before, anyway. Mission partly accomplished. 

She relaxes a little when they do. "-Daisy can probably explain it better than I can, when she gets back. But it's - you -" she shakes her head slightly. "Any Sith would kill you for it. More so than almost anything else. That's - the only time someone would ever touch my 'saber is if they'd defeated me."

Acknowledging beeps. (They add a note to their memory: do not touch a Sith's lightsaber.) 

She nods, relaxing a little farther, and gives Alek another look, more assessing this time. "He gets to do what he wants, but that's going to look weird to any Sith. Might get you attacked - either of you - depending on what they think is going on. We don't always do well with surprises."

Acknowledging beep. 

(They'll have to mention it to him, then. In the meantime they just won't touch it.)

"All right." She goes back to her reading, still a little unsettled.

And Isk carries Alek's clothes out of the cargo bay to put them in the wash. 

The next few days pass uneventfully. Nine comes in twice, once to clarify a finer point of goat-feeding duty and another time to ask where to store eggs with the usual space full.  Pradnakt reads, and dances katas across the width of the room, and meditates, sitting by the door where she can see the edge of the sunset and the way the light fades into darkness.

Isk, meanwhile, makes use of the time to work on the ship, replacing some old parts with the new ones Pradnakt and Daisy had bought in the capital, and making a few tweaks here and there. Some maintenance and replacements are still needed, but the ship is in much less danger, once they're through. They set up the vocoder as well, with Pradnakt's help, and thereafter can be heard muttering in Basic around the ship, at times, rather than droidspeak. They occasionally drop in on the loading bay to ask her for updates on how well Alek is healing, as well. 

Alek drifts on the edge of wakefulness and sleep, his mind more open to the Force than it has been in over a year. With his senses wide open like this, his empathy is really quite strong, but the calm is such that the bursts of emotional colour from the nearby settlement hardly disturbs him. He remains this way for three days without interruption. 

On the fourth day, a ship approaches the planet. Its occupant may be of some interest to the residents of the isolated homestead. Particularly given that said occupant seems to be aiming straight for it.

- yep, that's a Jedi, all right. "Isk! Hostiles incoming, fifteen minutes!" she calls into the ship, and then turns to the tank to monitor Alek's reaction as she eases off on calming him.

He's already stirring a bit when she does, a sense of the looming danger having begun to pull him back to consciousness. His eyes blink open behind the mask, and he shifts a bit in the kolto, urgency increasing when he recognizes the presence nearing them. He gives her a wide-eyed look through the glass, fear rising without the calming technique dampening them. He can't fight like this, and he's no match for Manoll in any case. If they tried to run now his Master would just shoot them down. He's too close - closer than he's gotten since they first ran. 

Isk, meanwhile, starts belting out a long series of curses. They make for the cockpit, planning to start the ship up and hook themself into the weapons. 

She gestures for Alek to come out of the tank, looking and feeling assured. "Pretty sure I can take him," she says as soon as his ears are out of the liquid. "If he's got any tricks I should know about 'em, though."

He tugs the mask off once his torso has cleared the tank, hanging from the rim while his muscles finish waking up from three days of inactivity, even with the kolto keeping them from deteriorating he's a bit weak. He swallows to get moisture into his throat, "He's a saber master," he gets out, "Fought more than a few Sith, but I don't think he has any really unusual Force techniques, for a Jedi Master. He's just really, really good with a lightsaber. Maybe don't try lightning, I'm pretty sure he can redirect it. Heard stories. Sorry I don't know more." 

"All right, I can work with that. 'Saber's over there with your pants," she points. "We've got maybe ten minutes, and I don't think he's figured out there's two of us yet, I'm shielding. I'll go tell Nine."

He's still afraid, but her confidence does soothe him, somewhat.

"Mm," he nods, carefully pulling himself the rest of the way out of the tank. He slips down to the floor, landing in a crouch, and tugs the pants and his saber over to him, pulling the former on and unbuckling the other out of its holster. He activates it briefly, the snick and buzz of the blue blade settling him a bit, and then deactivates it again, coming out from behind the tank and walking over to the top of the ramp to wait. 

She's already called Nine out of the house and is pointing out a spot in the sky, presumably where Manoll's ship will come down. They talk for another minute, and she levitates him up onto the roof of her house, out of sight of the ramp. Another glance at the sky, and she comes back over. "How's your danger sense?"

"Not bad. My battle precog is actually pretty good," he adds, "And I was the best at saber combat in my initiate class. Still no match for a knight, though, never mind Manoll."

(He checks the blaster wound on his shoulder, finding it mostly healed, though the thin layer of skin covering it is red and raw-looking.)

"Good. You can have the kill if you want it - can't promise you an opening, but if you get one. It's safer to close if I'm sparking than not, for my part." She holds up her hand and wreaths it in lightning for a moment, demonstratively. "Means my control's still good. You remember what I said about killing someone with a Dark technique?"

He stares at the lightning. "I- yeah, I remember." Then, belatedly processing the first statement, "I... don't know if I can kill him. He's a Jedi."

(There's still a part of him that believes what he was taught as a youngling. That he's only a step away from becoming a monster, that he should let them put him down. Not enough to actually do it, but. If he kills a Jedi, they'll be right, won't they? He'll have become an enemy.)

"That's all right, I can do it. It goes for me, too, though - you run if you need to, understand?"

He doesn't like the idea of running, but he's not an idiot. He nods.