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I sense much fear in you
Pradnakt meets Alek
Permalink Mark Unread

Daisy is gone only two days a month - a little less, even, leaving in the morning of the first day and returning around sunset of the second. Even most of that time, she's in contact, with the speeder or close enough to hear its radio. It's only at night, one night a month, that she's truly out of contact.

So of course that one night of the month is when the ship carrying the Force-sensitive appears. Sith, presumably, this far from the border, though Pradnakt doesn't wait to find out before pulling in her senses and cloaking her presence. That's - fine, probably; the cloaking effect isn't meant to be used for more than a few minutes, and it's incompatible with most other uses of the Force, but that just means whoever it is will go away with an unwarranted surety that the planet is empty of Sith. Hopefully. It's most likely just someone doing a check for Force-sensitive kids to take as apprentices, and they won't be here long, she can just wait them out.

She still wants her droid back home, though, where it's safe. She tries the speeder radio; no answer. Not from the emergency radio in the library, either, or the one at town hall. She keeps trying.

Permalink Mark Unread

He's let his supplies get low again, avoiding civilization, going from system to system without setting down in any settlements for longer than it takes to refuel. He needs food, and some medical supplies, and the ship needs some new parts, and Isk won't let him put it off any longer, even if they could manage longer without them. 

They select a small settlement, a good ways away from the planet's spaceport, currently on the night side of the planet. It's large enough to have the shops he needs, and small enough to get in and out quickly. Isk lands the ship far enough out of town to escape their notice, while he settles himself as much as possible.

He sets out for the town under cover of night, planning to scout out the important shops while most of the residents are asleep. Hopefully he won't have to interact with anyone at all. 

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It's pretty unremarkable as little nowhere backwaters go, aside from having a particularly nice library. The main stores are easy to find - a general store that doubles as a grocery store, a hardware store with a collection of art that someone's made out of machine parts in one window, a livestock supply store where he can sense chickens and goats sleeping in their pens, a restaurant, a barber's shop, all closed.

It's not immediately obvious where he'd get medical supplies, and his search takes him off the main drag, where he finds a pair of droids - a silver protocol droid heavily decorated with colored flowers that glitter a little in the low light, and a big bulky battle droid looking very out of place in such a small town - chatting quietly in front of a secondhand/pawn shop.

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(He eyes the library as he passes - maybe he could risk it? People don't bother each other in libraries, mostly. He'll talk it over with Isk when he gets back.)

His attention is caught by the silver droid, the decorations on their chassis eye-catching even in the low light. He wonders if they like them.

He spares some for the other as well, but he has no intention of doing anything that would make them shoot him, so it's mostly just curiosity about how they'd ended up in a backwater like this. 

Still, he's not going to ask. Talking to droids besides Isk is just asking to get set off at some point, and there are few people he'd want to hurt less. He turns away from them to continue his search.

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The protocol looks up at him briefly as he goes by, but doesn't say anything.

A block away, he passes an older man, heavyset, bundled up slightly against the evening's chill, heading toward the shop.

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Alek turns his head once he's passed, watching the man continue down the street. Is he headed for the pawnshop for some reason, or is he going that way to bother the droids? 

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It's really not obvious, until the man turns the corner and comes into view of the shop; Alek can sense his sudden anger.

"DZ. I told you to stay away from my droid."

The protocol droid's response is much quieter: "Yes, sir."

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He stops walking.

Getting involved is a bad idea, he tells himself. He should keep going. 

He turns around instead, backtracking up the street towards the corner. 

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"How long has this been going on?"

    "Four months, sir." The battle droid.

"So, you didn't listen at all last time I told you. Well, fine. 9P, if you see this droid here outside store hours again, shoot it."

    "Yes sir."

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...What?! 

 

That sithspitting hutspawn, how dare-

He's darting forward before he even realizes it, mind clouded by the towering rage which those words brought to the forefront. He rounds the corner, and his saber isn't easily accessible, but the Force is always there-

It only takes a moment of intention to send a nearby piece of sharp scrap metal shrieking through the air to land in the man's throat. 

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The man never sees him coming.

The battle droid does, though, and his programming is clear: he shoots.

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He hits. 

Alek stops where he is, hand clapping over the hole in his shoulder, all of his attention switching to the one who'd shot at him.

The battle droid- Was defending them- Don't want to hurt-

He stands there, tense with the effort of holding himself back from attacking. One chance. He can give that. They probably didn't have a choice.

Are they going to fire again?

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The battle droid isn't moving at all, now.

   "Nine? -Nine?"

He doesn't answer. The protocol droid turns to Alek. "Are you all right, sir?"

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That's bad, but it means they're not going to fire.

He doesn't hear her question, either. Instead, he shuts down externally, all of his attention turning to regaining control. 

 

He gave up on using the Jedi code ages ago. It doesn't work - it's blatantly false. There is no emotion. Hah. Instead, he focuses on music, running through a complicated piece in his head, until all of his mind is occupied by the sound and the phantom feeling of strings.

It takes some time, but the anger subsides. He turns his attention back to the outside world, checking on the other two before anything else. 

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The battle droid hasn't moved. The protocol droid is still there, too. "Sir? I need to bring Nine to my master, Lord Pradnakt. I think you should come with us. She won't hurt you if you don't attack us."

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The word 'master' bothers him - for more than one reason - but he's not so volatile he can't ignore it. On the other hand, Lord Pradnakt definitely sounds like the name of a Sith. Coming to the attention of a Sith sounds like a bad idea. This whole thing was a bad idea. 

He shakes his head, "No, I'm fine, I'll just-" he tries to take a step back, stumbles, and then stops, head spinning. One hand goes to the blaster wound in his shoulder, which is still bleeding quite heavily. 

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She steps up and reaches out to steady him. "You need someplace to rest, sir, and you'll be safe with us."

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"...Isk will worry," he says, blinking at her a little woozily. "I should go back to the ship. But we're out of kolto." 

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"Okay. We can take your ship to our house. I need to go get the speeder; can you watch Nine for me? It'll only be a few minutes."

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He looks over at Nine. He doesn't look very good.

"Yeah, I can do that." 

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"Good. Thank you. It's important that you stay awake, okay? And if he comes out of it you can tell him that I'll be right back. I don't want him to wake up alone, he'd be scared. Okay?"

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He doesn't want Nine to be scared. Doesn't want to scare anyone who doesn't deserve it. 

"Okay," he agrees. He can try to stay awake. And he can put pressure on the blaster wound. 

(Ow.)

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"Good. Thank you." She helps him over to lean against the front of the shop. "I'll be as quick as I can."

It's only a few blocks to the speeder, and she's not really surprised to find the radio flashing when she gets there.

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Pradnakt speaks immediately when she turns it on. "Love, you have to come home, there's a Sith on the planet."

    "I know. It's fine. I'm safe. He's here. I'm safe." She clips the radio onto her chassis and starts unhooking the carts from the speeder.

"He's - you're safe." She's skeptical, but still relieved.

    "I'm safe. He's hurt. I'm bringing him in."

"You're - what happened."

    "It's a long story. I'm bringing in a friend of mine, too, damaged."

"By him?"

    "No, I think it's a restraining bolt problem."

"Okay. You're safe?"

    "I'm safe. We're taking his ship in, we'll be there soon. I'll keep the radio with me."

"All right. Stay safe."

She's back not much longer after that, with the speeder and an empty cart to load the other droid into, quietly reciting poetry for Pradnakt.

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He's still conscious, leaning against the shop, eyes fixed on Nine. His eyelids are pretty heavy, however.

His head turns when he notes the speeder approaching, going on alert (as much as he can) until he recognizes her.

"He didn't wake," he tells her when she gets in speaking range. "-Is that a poem?" 

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"That's him?"

    "Yes ma'am. It is, sir; Eikzuser Kizen's The Falling Petal." She pulls up next to Nine and starts wrangling him into the cart. "Would you like to hear some more?"

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He makes to stand, to help her with Nine, but immediately recalls that this is a bad idea and falls back against the wall, blinking away black spots. 

"Ah... It's nice. And. If you don't mind?" he says after a moment, once his head is spinning at a more manageable rate. 

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    "Of course not, sir."

Pradnakt cuts in before she can start, though. "Hey. I'm going to drop the cloak now, don't panic, all right?"

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"'M not sensing very far," He tells the voice - presumably the Sith - "But Ok." 

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Daisy pauses in her work to watch him. After a moment the Sith's presence unfolds into view in the Force, vague at this distance but made more obvious by the contrast with its absence; she seems to be about as powerful as he is, or maybe a little more.

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He tenses a bit as she comes into 'view'. Powerful, and controlled, and definitely Sith. Not too close, but they're going to be heading towards that presence, apparently. That's a frightening thought. 

It's not frightening enough to set him off, however. He stays where he is, and makes no threatening motions. 

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    "We're fine," the droid reports.

"Good."

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She gets back to work. "Eddysha Bropres, Spacer's Sunset," she begins reciting, a long poem with plenty of evocative imagery and a wistful tone, and more like it, once it's done, coming to the end of one just as she finishes tying the larger droid down. She approaches Alek again to offer a hand, then. "Come on, let's go get Isk. Where are they?"

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He relaxes some as she speaks, focusing on the imagery instead of the Sith on the edge of his senses - as much as he's able to, at any rate. Ignoring a threat like that is hard.

"Ship," he says when she approaches, staring down at her extended hand without comprehension. "Outside town. I can -" He tugs out his own comlink, connecting to the ship. 

"Isk?" 

A stream of droidspeak comes out in return, "Why are you calling? What did you do? Idiot Jedi!"

"'M not a Jedi. Got hurt, killed someone, bringing friends."

"You are injured?! Not a Jedi, still an idiot! What friends?"

He waves the comlink at DZ, "Droid friends. Gotta go with 'em for healing, 'nd t'make sure Nine's ok," he tells Isk. 

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"I'd like to get him to the ship as quickly as possible. Where are you located?"

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There's a pause, and then Isk lists out the coordinates of their landing site. 

"How injured?" They ask, "Who did you kill? Will there be trouble about it?"

"Dunno. Slimesucker deserved it. M'fine, 's just the one shoulder." 

"Not fine, idiot," Isk insists. "Your words are slurred. How injured?" They ask again, directing their words to the droid who had spoken. 

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"Blaster shot. He'd be unconscious if he wasn't a trained Force-sensitive, but I think he'll survive it."

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"If you can get him here without damaging him any further, yeah, he'll pull through. You really do want to get him to the ship, though, he's not going to be upright much longer."

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"Yes ma'am." She takes the comm, clipping it next to the radio, and then takes his hand to lead him to the speeder. "We're on our way."

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Oh, that's what the hand was for. He follows her to the speeder unsteadily. 

Getting on it might be a bit challenging. Balancing, too. He can probably manage for the short ride to the ship, though. 

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She settles him in front of her, and guides the speeder with one hand while she uses the other to hold him up; the flowers on her chassis are uncomfortable against his back, but it's not a very long ride. She recites a few more poems on the way, and alerts the other droid when they're a minute away.

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Uncomfortable is good, it keeps him more awake. He tries to keep listening to her words, but the Force trick he's been using to stay conscious is getting harder to keep up, so more and more of his attention starts going to that instead. 

Isk sends back acknowledgement when she alerts them to their approach. 

 

The ship is a small freighter of indeterminate origin. Whatever the original model was, it has been gone over so many times - bits added and removed here and there, painted and scuffed up and repainted - that there's no telling what it was. A utility droid - a T7 astromech, specifically - awaits them at the top of the lowered ramp. When the speeder comes to a stop they zip forward, making alarmed and angry noises.

"You were just scouting! How?!" 

"Not sorry. Stims?" 

"No! They are bad for you!" 

"Gonna pass out," he points out blearily. 

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"That's fine, sir, just let me help you to a bed first." She's already guiding him off the speeder.

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He proceeds to half-fall off the speeder, leaning on her. 

"-name's Alek," he tells her. He means to say she can use it, but is distracted by the weird way the ground is behaving. 

Isk leads them up the ramp, and from there into his quarters. It's a very small room, and pretty cluttered. A few crates filled with datacards litter the floor, the accompanying datapad lying on the end of the bunk. There's an open medkit next to it, empty aside from a few antiseptic towels, some burn salve, a couple of stims, a field cauterizer, and a full bottle of pain killers. A few sets of clothes are folded into the space above the bunk, along with a some extra blankets.

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She does her best to keep him from stepping on anything, and guides him to the bed. "Painkiller, ma'am?" she asks, as she settles him onto it.

    "Yeah."

She shakes one out and offers it to him.

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Ugh. He makes a face. 

"Take it," Isk demands from the doorway.

He turns the face in their general direction, but grudgingly accepts the painkiller. He's not a fan of the way they make his mind foggy, and he never learned how to filter substances out while under their effects, either. 

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"You don't have to, sir. We'll be there soon, and she has a pain blocking effect."

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His hand pauses on the way to his mouth.

...He's never been much of a healer, but he's pretty sure it's supposed to be really hard to share a pain blocking effect?

He'll take any excuse, though. He tilts his head in an approximation of a nod, dropping the pill back in her hand. 

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She puts it back in the bottle, and turns to the rest of the first aid supplies.

"The speeder is a 486 model," she tells Isk while she works. "If you can get it inside we'll get there a little faster. The access port is on the right above the front repulsor."

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They beep an affirmative, performing a quick visual scan on her. They notice the lightsaber damage, but decide to wait until they're on their way, and Alek isn't paying attention, to bring it up. A Force-user in Imperial space who damaged their droid sounds dangerous. Unfortunately they don't have any other good choices, so Isk will have to ask how best to navigate this situation with minimal harm to themself and their charge. 

They trundle out of the doorway, and then out of the ship to guide the speeder and its cart and passenger inside. 

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She starts up with the poetry again as she works, a little more quietly, soothing.

"Just north of mist,
along the border,
   half a color
from the water,

under the kiss
of shadow’s daughter,
   (two breaths backward,
one word upward),

past the rumpled
terra cotta,
   down the salve
of templed sorrow,

up the scales
of Bach, and Buddha,
   down the moon
of broken solder,

through the eyes
of someone’s father,
   in the grass
beside the water;

one part liar,
one part seer,
   one part lyric,
one part scholar,

this is the walk
we come to wander,
   one part illness,
one part healer."

[source]

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...About half-way through her recital, he loses his grip on the Force technique. The sudden surge of exhaustion sends him falling straight into unconsciousness. 

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She finishes treating the wound, gets a blanket down for him, and heads back to the loading bay to look for Isk.

    "You all right, Love?"

"Mmhmm. Just looking for the mech, and then we can go."

    "All right. What happened?" She's calmer now, curious.

"My friend, Nine - his owner wasn't treating him very well. And the boy overheard, and killed him."

    "All right. And the injury?"

"Nine's a battle droid. B2 line."

   "...and?"

She comes to the bay. "One moment, ma'am."

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She will find both mech and speeder inside the bay, the former just detaching from the latter. 

"Secure," they tell her, "Anything else? What is wrong with this one?" They nudge the cart with their arm, "Restraining bolt?" 

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"I think so. His owner liked to order him around instead of wiping him, and then when Alek killed his owner and he had to shoot him -"

There's a pained noise over the radio.

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Agitated whirr! 

But they calm again pretty quickly. 

"Idiot Not-Jedi is usually right when he says someone deserved to die," they comment. "Even if he is wrong about everything else." 

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She nods. "My Sith would have killed him as soon as she found out, yes, he only sped it up a little. Can you pilot the ship?"

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They swivel their dome to check the radio - it's still on. Interesting. 

"Yes," they reply, "Coordinates?" They turn to lead the other droid to the cockpit. 

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She gives them; it's about on the edge of what could be reasonably considered 'nearby', four hours by speeder, perhaps fifteen minutes for the shuttle.

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They attach themself to the port in the cockpit and begin lift-off procedures. Once they're in the air, they guide the ship in the right direction. 

Asking about the lightsaber scarring would likely be pointless while she has an open radio connection with the Sith. Still, that's not all they could ask about. 

"Expectations? Rules? Dangers?" They ask the droid and the Sith on the radio.

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    "It's just the two of us, and Lord Pradnakt is only dangerous when she's doing her 'saber forms, or if she's provoked; you should be fine. I don't think she's expecting much - ma'am?"

"Nothing that should come as much of a surprise, no. I'll want to meet him before I decide anything, though."

    "He's, ah - wearing his 'saber where he can't draw it. Ma'am."

"-ah. I might not want him in the house unsupervised, then. But there's not much damage he can do out here aside from that."

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"Sometimes he wrecks things. Not me. The furniture. Surroundings. Himself. We are usually on a planet when it happens. He leaves, he comes back with burns and cuts. Idiot Not-Jedi."

He is very concerning! None of Isk's other Jedi were like this, though they were idiots in other ways. 

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    "She doesn't know droidspeak," Daisy explains, and then translates.

"Better than I was doing, at least, but I'll still want to see how he is first," she muses. "We can get you a vocoder, by the way, if you're here that long. If you want one, of course."

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Isk considers this. They don't like strange people rummaging through their parts. But a vocoder would be useful, and Alek could do it, with detailed enough instructions. 

"Maybe," they temporize. 

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"All right. Let me know if you decide you want one, I don't want to pester you."

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They whistle an affirmative. 

Shortly, the ship lands at the coordinates they were given.

"Here," they tell the protocol droid and the Sith. 

They lower the ramp from the cockpit, and then make their way back to Alek. 

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The pair's home is a trio of buildings made of plain adobe with corrugated metal roofs - a small barn with a pen attached, a larger garage, and the main house, small enough to suggest that it only has two or three rooms inside and with a small wooden platform built onto the roof. A vegetable garden takes up most of the space between the house and the barn, and the area in front of the house is clear except for a twisting metal sculpture and a small circle of stones with a burned-down log in the middle and a couple of larger rocks nearby for seats.

The Sith comes out to meet them - a tall woman with long brown hair, wearing a casual black outfit with red crosshatching embroidered on the sleeves and around the waist. She boards, and joins them at the door to his room. "I want you to go in, Love, it won't be good for anyone if he panics and you're in the way of it."

    "Yes ma'am."

"-don't," she sighs. "If he has a problem with that we need to know about it."

    "...all right."

"Is there anything I should know before she leaves?" Pradnakt asks Isk.

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They watch her cautiously as she boards, taking in this short exchange. They are curious what it is that they need to know how he feels about. 

"Problem with what?" They ask. They might be able to shed light on the topic. 

"If he panics he will want out so he can not hurt others," they add. "Maybe he will attack you, though. He might feel cornered just due to your presence." Given that she is Sith, likely fully trained, has a lightsaber, and he is injured. 

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    "With me addressing her casually."

Daisy translates the rest, and Pradnakt pauses to consider.

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"He understands droidspeak," they point out. "He knows what 'idiot' means. Calling your organic by name will not offend him." It might reassure him, actually. 

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    "All right," she nods, less reluctantly.

"What do you think will happen if he wakes up and I'm off the ship, but meditating? I look stronger that way, but I don't have enough range with the pain block to do it from there without it."

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They consider for a fraction of a second.

"If you are not there to attack, he will feel less cornered. It is likely he will be able to calm himself enough to speak with you more rationally," they settle on. 

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"All right, I'll do that. Up to you whether you want to be here when he wakes up; I can signal you when he calms down if you're in sight of me."

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"It would be better if I were here within his sight." Knowing that they are safe will keep him calmer, knowing that they are close will incentivise him to keep himself under control. 

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She nods. "Do you know what questions he's likely to have first?"

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"Whether you intend to keep him here," they answer immediately. "If the battledroid is alright," they add after a moment. 

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"I'm not going to keep him here - if he goes back to my town we're going to have a problem, but other than that I don't care. And I think Nine will be fine, but I won't know until I open him up."

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"We only landed there for supplies," they say, "We can go somewhere else. Once he is no longer leaking all over the ship. Idiot," they add, dome pivoting to let them pin his sleeping form with a remarkably understandable glare, given the lack of facial expression. 

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"I expect Daisy won't mind picking some things up for you, if you'll be here for a couple days. All right. Do try to keep him from moving around too much, but worst case I'll just let him pass out again and he can stay that way 'till it's not a problem." She backs out of the door and gestures for Daisy to precede her off the ship.

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Affirmative whistle, "We would appreciate it," they tell Daisy. 

They settle in the corridor outside the room, in plain sight of the bunk inside the still open doorway, but not too close. They have avoided any lightsaber scars of their own at least partly through their own considered caution, as much as through their Not-Jedi's faulty control. 

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The pair make their way off the ship, and a minute or so later, Alek's pain fades to nothing.

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The sudden loss of feeling wakes him immediately. He's so used to always being in pain that not hurting leaves him feeling somehow wrong. His forearms, and hands to a lesser extent, should be covered in light burns, but he can't feel them at all.

He doesn't have much time to think about this before he notices the powerful, trained, dark Force sensitive, who is far too close for comfort, and at that moment doing something to him. He surges to his feet, heart rate rising from 'relaxed' to 'terrified' in the space of a few moments, his hand going to his belt before he remembers his saber isn't there and slides it to the less accessible place he keeps it instead. 

Where is Isk? 

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Isk is right here, watching him from the hall. They don't do or say anything, just continue idling there, being conspicuously unharmed. 

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Isk is fine. This is good. Also helpful to his long-term goal of not wrecking their only means of transportation. What is that Sith doing to him, exactly? He takes a moment to try to find out, quickly realising that they must be the source of his lack of pain when he finds the burns on his arms still partly-healed.

Having discovered this, the events of the night start coming back - the droids, the shopkeeper, the blaster wound, the Sith. Lord Pradnakt, the protocol droid had called her. Had said she would help him. 

She is helping him, too. He should... not try to attack her. Not just for that reason, either. She would absolutely wipe the floor with him, he has no doubt. He doesn't want to die. 

 

"Back?" Isk asks. 

"...You Ok?" He asks in return, not answering the question. 

"No change." 

"Ok." He pauses for a long moment, trying to think through the continuing terror-fury. 

 

"Leave?" He asks. 

"Still injured."

"I'm fine." They have bigger problems at the moment!

"Sith is friendly."

"Sith don't do friendly!" 

"Jedi words." 

"No, it's good sense! We've seen the sorts of things they leave behind."

"This one is different. The protocol droid calls her 'my Sith' where she can hear," they add. 

 

 

"...Alright. I'll talk to her." 

He steps out of the room, slipping through the ship towards the loading ramp. He's still terrified, on-edge. But he's not going to do anything stupid. At the moment. 

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The pain in his shoulder begins to fade back in, just barely, as he reaches the edge of the blocking effect's range, coming down the ramp. The Sith is behind him as he does, but calm, still both physically and in the Force, and when he turns to look, she's sitting in the dust just past the ship's nose, cross-legged, eyes closed.

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(It's ignorable while it lasts.)

He rounds the ship slowly, watching her warily, eventually coming to a stop still a fair distance away from her. 

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She waits for him to stop, and then another breath, before she opens her eyes, still motionless in the Force.

"Thank you for helping my droid," she says, first, watching him.

"I can't promise you'll be safe here," she nods to his lightsaber's awkward placement, "but I don't plan on hurting you."

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He nods, slowly. That's... reasonable. If not exactly reassuring, given.

"...He was cruel." He says. "And I was there." He wouldn't have just kept walking even before.

"Is Nine okay?" 

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"It sounds like he will be, once I get the restraining bolt off. You can watch, if you'd like."

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"...I'd like that," he agrees, relaxing just a little. He wonders if unrestrained battledroids are legal here - not that it matters to him if they aren't. 

"...How are you extending the pain-dampening like that?" He asks instead. 

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She grins at that, though she doesn't relax. "I'm a sense specialist; some of the techniques generalize, eventually."

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"I'm not great at sensing," he says, disappointed. "My empathy's pretty good, but-" he suppresses it most of the time. Hard enough dealing with his own emotions without dealing with everyone else's. 

He's not sure what he'd use it for, anyway. Not like there's any other organics around, usually. 

...What is he doing, telling her about his skills like this?

"You won't stop us from leaving?" He asks. She is Sith, and he's a- he's Force Sensitive. 

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"I won't. I don't think it's the best idea, right now, but if you'd rather that than the others, it's your choice."

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He glances at his wounded shoulder. She does have a point. 

"...I shouldn't stay in one place for too long," he says, uncertain. 

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"It's better here than most places, that way. The locals know to stay away. We haven't seen another Sith in the eight years we've been here. And I can do lifeforce transfer, if you need it. Or we can rent you a kolto tank, if you think you're up for being immobilized like that for a while, or you could try your luck at spending a few days in a hospital without letting them know what you are. Or - I don't think it'll kill you to let that heal on its own. I'm less sure you keep full use of the arm, though."

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...None of those sound like great options. He really can't afford to lose function in his arm, though. 

"I'm being followed," he explains after a moment. "By my Ma-" He cuts himself off. That's not true anymore.

"...By a Jedi Master."

(They could just leave. They really should. If they stay in one place too long he'll figure out where.)

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She pauses, briefly, to consider. "You could just as easily call that a reason to stay; it sounds like a problem I wouldn't mind solving for you."

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"You..." He stares at her, "Why?" 

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She grins again, apparently finding the question funny. "You helped my droid. And I'm curious what you'll do with yourself, given the chance."

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He keeps staring, at a loss for words. 

"...What I'll do with myself?" He asks after a long moment. "I'm Fallen," he says, "But I don't want to be what they said I'd be." 

Control is hard, though. And... not getting any easier. 

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"I see that." Amused and... fond?

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 Fond??????

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Ok, so maybe Isk was right. 

 

...He should not ask the apparently friendly Sith for help with control. Even if she does seem to be pretty good at it. Every single Jedi he's ever met would be aghast at him for even considering it. 

 

...Kark them.

"I don't know how to use the dark side. It's too much. I'm going to hurt someone I don't want to." He swallows, "If I stay... Will you help?" 

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Oh, she likes him. Her grin widens a little, and her presence in the Force loosens up, relaxing. "Yeah, I can do that. What are we starting from?"

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He relaxes a bit more, too. 

"I don't know how much you know about Jedi training," he says. "I was a Padawan for a year and a half. A lot of what I learned then, and as an Initiate, isn't really useful. Some of the tricks, the lightsaber forms... Nothing really powerful. It all relies on being calm. If I try to use those techniques now I draw on the dark side instead.

"I did figure out how to make fire, though," he adds. "I... use it when I lose control." He flexes his fingers. He can't feel the burns, but he knows they're there.

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She nods. "Never used an explicitly dark technique to kill someone, though - don't, if you can help it, it'll make everything worse. Anything the Jedi taught you how to do is fine, fire's fine, lightning isn't. Have you ever killed someone you wouldn't've wanted to if you were calm?"

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He nods along. 

"No," he says. "I... might not have actually killed them if I'd been calm, though. Just wanted to. 

"I've come close a few times, but everyone I've killed deserved it, I think." The droid shop owner, who was installing a restraining bolt on Isk when he got to the shop. The slimy smuggler he got the ship off of, who'd taken his old ship, sold it, and then tried to kill him so he could steal back the one he'd offered in exchange. Some thugs and creeps, here and there, who thought a fourteen-year-old human on his own would make an easy mark. And the shopkeeper just now. He's always calmed down or gotten away before anyone could provoke him into hurting them while in a rage. 

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She nods. "Still matters. You're steering; that's good. Show me your 'saber?"

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His hand moves to cover it. 

After a moment, he nods, removing it carefully from its improvised holster, buckled tightly around it.

Once he has it in hand, he activates it. Its blade shines a pale blue, somehow more diffuse than others. It's attuned to him, but... oddly weak. 

"It's a Padawan blade," he says after it's lit. "Limited, and only one crystal." 

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She seems put off, not by him, but by the blade, when he activates it. His explanation has her nodding, though. "Not doing you any favors - I don't know how kybers do with mixing, but we can figure something out. I don't - most Sith don't know you can make a blade like that."

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"They're good for training," he says. "You're less likely to cut your hand off if you make a mistake. I'd have problems if I tried to fight anyone with a full powered blade, though," he admits. "I should remake it to be more powerful, yeah." 

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"I have stuff," she nods. She can't seem to take her eyes off the blade, though she doesn't seem threatened, more unnerved, disbelieving. "That's not - I'd known Jedi were - wrong... it's something else to see it."

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He glances down, twirling his saber once, and then shrugs, shutting it off. "Padawan sabers don't really make it to my list of complaints," he says, wry. 

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She settles back into herself when he turns the blade off, and pats her own, open-handed, reassuring herself that it's there, intact.

"Tell me? I've heard rumors, but I've never met a Jedi."

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"...It's hard to put it all into words." 

"The Order is... cold. Strict. So focused on turning Padawans and Initiates into Jedi that they forget that there are people, beneath that title. They often ignore that individual people exist in general, actually. The needs of the Republic outweigh the suffering of smaller groups. They insist that they're compassionate, but their actions don't match that insistence. 

"I'm... not built like that. I can't see someone suffering and just... keep walking. 

"My instructors often told me I would fall, if I didn't learn to control my temper, to look to the bigger picture. Some of them expected it." 

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There's that fondness again, stronger this time.

"I don't think Sith and Jedi use that word the same way - falling. It wouldn't be safe for you to be around Sith, that way - too easy to manipulate, too likely to attack someone you shouldn't. Too light. For most Sith."

"So'm I."

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He blinks at her. Too light? 

"...Like a starlit night from the depths of a cave. I suppose," he says after a moment. 

...It does make him feel better to hear her describe herself as 'too light' as well. She's... not nearly as terrifying as he was expecting. 

"How do Sith mean it?" He asks. 

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"We don't use the term, mostly. But- too far gone into the Force, the way we use it; lost in that rage. Not a problem you have, I think."

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"Not yet, anyway." Hopefully not ever. 

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"Hopefully never. But it's fixable even if it does happen, if you still want to. Just takes a while."

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He nods. It's... good to know that even if he goes too far, there's still a way back. 

He shifts on his feet a bit, and then pauses, glancing down at his shoulder. It doesn't hurt, but it feels... 

He focuses his senses on it, wincing.

"...What does a lifeforce transfer... entail, exactly?"

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"I'll need some time to prepare for it, I'm not exactly in practice. There's a cot inside, if you want to keep the pain block while I go over my notes."

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"I mean, what does it mean? What will you be doing? I could just go with kolto instead." Even if being confined in a kolto tank sounds awful. 

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"I'm not sure we have enough shared vocabulary - I expect it's a lot like Jedi healing, from your end. I'll be weaker for a little while afterward, but it won't be a problem unless your Jedi is right behind you."

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He grimaces, "I have no idea how close behind me he is." He shakes his head, "I'll just take the kolto, if you really can get a tank." 

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She nods. "If you don't mind taking me to the city."

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Alek nods, "We can do that," he agrees. "...What about Nine, though?" He doesn't want him caught in that loop for a longer period of time on his account. 

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"I can work on him on the way. Or while we're waiting for the sun to come up, if we need to go into town first, I'm not sure how much cash we've got on hand." She hits the radio receiver, tucked away on her belt. "-Daisy? Can we afford a kolto tank out of petty cash?"

    "No."

She nods. "All right."

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He shifts uncomfortably, "We have money? But it's mostly Hutt currency." Looted from the backstabbing smuggler who traded them the ship they have now for the top-of-the-line Jedi Corvette they'd stolen from Master Manoll. 

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"That'll save us the trip to town, then. I'll pay you back; you need it more than we do."

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"But... the kolto tank is for me. And they're expensive. We should help pay for it, at least."  

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"I'm not going to stop you," she shrugs. "But it won't hurt us to cover it."

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He nods, "Okay." They can decide whether they need the money back later. 

To the ship, then? 

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She stands and follows before he gets far, asking Daisy to bring her repair kit out while she does.

"Do you have a cot you can set up in here?" she asks once she gets to the loading bay.

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(Isk is waiting in the bay when they enter, but exits in the direction of Alek's room once they see that he's fine.)


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He frowns in thought, "I think we have some, yeah... Maybe in one of the cargo holds..." 

He goes looking, eventually finding a folded up cot and carefully levitating it out into the loading bay. 

"I guess you need to be close by for the pain technique?" He asks as he awkwardly sets it up.  

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"Unless I'm meditating, yeah. About thirty feet." She tisks at him and shoos him off to set it up herself.

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He shoos, standing awkwardly at the side. Once she has it set up he'll settle on it slowly, only realizing how much of a strain he was under now that he's relaxed. 

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Isk trundles back in soon after, dragging a blanket which they drop next to the cot. 

We are going somewhere. Where? They ask. 

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"The city," Alek tells them, tugging the blanket up onto the cot with his good arm, "To get kolto." 

He wants to watch Pradnakt remove Nine's bolt, but lying down has brought to the forefront how tired he is. He could just use the Force trick he was using before...

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"Once Daisy gets here with my kit for Nine, yeah. We don't have enough creds on hand to cover it but we'll pay you back, at least part." Daisy comes up the ramp as she's speaking, pushing a wheeled tool cabinet with a change of clothing - civilian clothes, brown and green - sitting on top.

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"Idiot Not-Jedi should pay for his idiot mistakes." They insist. 

"Wanted to help," Alek mutters. 

"Blaster wound! Point-blank!

"Didn't react in time."

"Yes. Idiot. Kolto tank is not too expensive for funds available." They direct this last at Daisy and Lord Pradnakt. 

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Daisy translates; Pradnakt grins. "Fair. But I want to see what he'll get up to, and he won't be as interesting if he's starved for funds."

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Considering whirr. 

"Truth," they agree. "Will set course for planetary capitol.

They leave to do that.

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And Alex settles back to watch, carefully pulling on the Force to keep himself awake. 

The ramp closes, and they rise into the air to begin the trip to the city.

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And Pradnakt settles in to work on Nine, first moving him to the floor where Alek can more easily watch. It's not a fast process - ten minutes just to get the plating off, and then she begins the more delicate work of rearranging his internal workings to let her access the restraining bolt. She narrates as she goes, though, between signing to Daisy to hand her this or that tool.

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And he watches, exhausted, but keeping himself awake with the Force. If it's worse than they thought - if he'd somehow hurt Nine in the process of trying to help him... He wants to know. 

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It takes some forty minutes for her to get to the bolt, and she swears quietly when the diagnostic tool she attaches to it gives her its readout. "Yeah, this is a mess - this was really just a matter of time. Fixable, at least. Love, come stand here where he'll see you, I'm pretty sure he's not conscious right now."

Daisy does, and Pradnakt fiddles with the tool for another minute - "here we go-"

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"-Nine?"

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"Daisy? What happened?"

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"Restraining bolt finally caught you. -don't move, I still need to get it out and put you back together."

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"Yes ma'am."

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He's faded almost entirely by the time she wakes Nine up, but the voices bring him back. 

"...Alright?" He asks blearily. He's speaking to Nine, but that's not very obvious, really. 

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"Yeah, he's alright."

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"...sir?" he sounds concerned. "...did I..."

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"Yeah. Not your fault. We're heading to Kincardine to get him a kolto tank now."

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He whirrs in distress.

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"Don't move, I've got your actuators all over the place."

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"Don't hurt yourself," he insists, waking a bit more in alarm. "I'll be fine." 

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"Sorry, sir," he says, contrite.

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"You won't damage anything I can't replace, but I'd be weeks getting everything aligned again. If I could, I'm not a droid specialist."

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"Yes ma'am."

"Did you..." he trails off, confused.

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"Cleared your ownership flag, yeah." She gets back to work on him. "I don't think we'll have time this trip to get you manumission papers, but we'll be coming back before too long, seems like it's time for us to pick up a second speeder. Daisy told you about that, right?"

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"Yes ma'am."

"...I..." he sounds a little lost.

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"You don't have to figure out anything right away. I don't have much work for a battle droid, but you can stay with us as long as you like."

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"Thank you, ma'am."

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"...Manumission papers?" He murmurs. 

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"Yeah." Her fondness is directed at Daisy, this time, and there's a little bit of pride, there, too. "I don't know if they're worth anything, really, but she has them, same as an organic."

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"...Never thought of that. Should ask Isk if they want some."

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"Sure, we can get them both done at the same time. Probably need a mind trick for it again."

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"Mind trick? Oh, I guess they might not want to give papers to droids..." 

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"Yeah. Probably better if you stay here for it, actually. It took me a few tries, too."

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"I'm not even sort of good at mind tricks, so. Yeah, I can stay out of the way." 

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"I can teach you, they're not that hard. I meant the other part. Where you have to deal with someone being confused at what you're even asking."

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"...Yeah, maybe I shouldn't be there for that, either." Frustration and disgust can pretty easily slip into anger. 

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"Not yet, anyway."

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"...I really can learn to control this?" He asks quietly. He looks down at his hands, fingering a burn. He thought he'd just... keep going like this, until he finally slipped up, and fell the rest of the way to the dark. 

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She takes her hands out of Nine's chest and turns to look at him. "Yeah, you can. I did, and I was in much worse shape than you are. It won't be fast, but you want to, and that's what matters, in the end. Guess the Jedi might not have mentioned that."

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"They didn't, no. They say, if you Fall, you've doomed yourself to become ruled by the Dark side. That it's a Jedi's duty to kill anyone who Falls, to prevent them from becoming another enemy." 

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"Well, the Jedi are kind of ridiculous, apparently." She scoots closer to pat his hand. "We've got a whole civilization out here; couldn't do that if all of us were as bad as the worst of us. It takes some work, to learn how to master the Force instead of letting it master you, but most of us manage it. And you will, too."

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(He twitches at the touch.)

"Yeah." That makes sense. "Yeah, Okay." 

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"Good. Just have a little faith in yourself, that's all." She withdraws and gets back to work.

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'Faith in himself', huh. Well, he can try. 

He settles back down to watch her finish helping Nine. 

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It's only another couple minutes until she has the restraining bolt out. "There, that should feel much better. And now you don't have to call us ma'am and sir anymore."

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"Yes ma'- huh. Wow."

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"It'll take a little while to break the habit, if Daisy's anything to go by. Still, better, right?"

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"Yes," he says, with careful emphasis.

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"Good to hear it," she beams. "Sweetheart, you did a good job with him." And she gets back to work.

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He smiles a little at the exchange. He's glad Nine's going to be alright. 

His grip on the technique slips again, now that he's more sure of that. He sleeps for the rest of the trip.

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By the time the ship touches down, Pradnakt's finished putting Nine back together and gotten changed into the civilian outfit Daisy brought her, and the three of them are sitting together by the speeder, Pradnakt lounging half into Nine's lap with Daisy facing her, signing to each other.

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Isk comes back in as the ramp lowers, coming to a stop at Alek's cot. 

Alek himself sleeps through the landing, and doesn't seem likely to wake up on his own. 

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"Are we bringing him?" she asks Isk quietly. "The logistics of it aren't great."

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They rock back and forth once, thinking for a fraction of a second, and then make a negative whir. 

"Let Not-Jedi sleep, not needed for this. Hutt currency is physical coin. Crates in cargo bay." Pause. "Who will stay?"

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She looks up at Nine. "Do you mind, sweetheart?"

 

    "I can stay."

"Thanks. And I'd rather keep Daisy with me," she tells them, "the speeder'll fit both of us just fine. I'm not sure we can put you and the tank both in the wagon, though."

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Another moment of consideration.

"I will stay also, then," they decide. 

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"All right. Anything else we should get while we're here? Food, I suppose, my supply for the month is still in town."

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"Food, yes. Other medical supplies. Replacement parts, for the ship," they name the parts in question. Their Not-Jedi could use new entertainment, as well, but would like to be awake to choose them, they think. Another time. "Can stop on the way back to pick up supplies in town," they mention. 

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"That sounds doable. Anything we don't pick up this time we can get when we drop the tank back off, I'm going to want a longer visit then anyway - pick up another speeder and get this one his manumission papers. You too, if you want them."

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Considering whirr. 

"I am a person. I am free. I know. Others will believe or not. Papers will not change that." Manumission papers will not stop anyone who wishes to treat them as a slave. Perhaps they would have wanted them twenty, thirty years ago, but they have no need for them now. 

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She nods, once Daisy translates. "The symbol matters, I think. To us more than you, maybe," she nods at Alek. "But it's good that you already know."

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Their dome swivels towards Alek.

"He's not going to forget," they offer after a moment. 

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"Oh, neither am I." She looks at Daisy, and it's very obvious, now, that this is a Sith who is not just fond of the droid but actually in love with her. "But - knowing that I could and choosing not to, that would mean something too, even if it didn't change anything else about our lives."

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They observe this. She seems... far more open and relaxed than she had been earlier. An effect of deciding the trust them? Perhaps, but that does not seem like a complete explanation.

When they finally speak, their words are slower, sentances complete and considered. "I do not think it would change ours," they make a whirring noise, "I have never been 'his droid'. I have been free for as long as he has known me."

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Pradnakt nods. "That does change things."

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"I'm hers because I choose to be," Daisy puts in. "It was important to her for me to have that choice."

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"Couldn't've kept you if you didn't."

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Daisy nods.

"It'll be different for Alek, though."

    "Yeah."

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Their dome swivels between the two as they talk. These two are very attached to each other. It is... cute, they suppose. 

"Yes. Not his," Amused whirr, "Not as much as he is mine."

"But won't leave," they add. "Idiot organic would waste away in deep space if I was not here to make him resupply," they state confidently.

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"We aren't very good at taking care of ourselves at that age, yes. Even without everything else that he's got going on. - speaking of taking care of things, we should probably get going."

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"Yes." They agree. "Commlink," they add, rolling forward and extending an arm out to offer one such device to Daisy. 

"Will keep watch." 

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"Thank you."

Pradnakt levitates a crate of coins into the speeder's wagon and the pair sets off.

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Nine sits quietly for a minute, then gets up and lumbers down the ramp as well.

He's gone most of an hour, and goes looking for Isk when he returns.

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Isk is (still? back?) in the loading bay, arm extended to plug into an outlet in the wall near Alek's cot. Their dome swivels around to look at Nine when they hear him coming up the ramp.

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He heads over. "Are you busy?"

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"I am not." 

They disconnect from the wall outlet, turning their whole chassis towards Nine.

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"How did you figure out how to be free?"

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A difficult question, but understandable. They consider for a moment. 

"I was given examples, and support. It was not all at once. My first Jedi was skilled at healing, and often was sent on missions which required it. She acquired and freed me shortly before a mission on which she assisted at a center devoted to aiding former slaves. I had many examples of what it looked like to learn to be free, for many different kinds of sentients, and she supported me as I put some into practice." Pause. "Astromechs and utility droids are more often ignored and given much more autonomy than most droids, I think. More of us go unwiped. We are expected to be a little strange, and Astromechs especially are programmed in ways which allow more creativity. This helped. But it is not necessary."

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He rumbles thoughtfully. "Daisy says that type matters, too."

"How long did it take?"

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Considering whirr. 

"Many years. Decades, to become truly confident. I am quite old, as droids go," they add. 

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"All right. I can be patient."

"Thank you."

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Acknowledging beep. 

"Presence of Pradnakt and Daisy might aid the speed of your understanding," they suggest, "It will be different for you than for her, but their experience will help."

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"She already has. But I'm not sure I should stay with them."

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Curious noise, "There is somewhere else you would go? Or simply away from them?"

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"I don't know yet." He humms thoughtfully for a few moments. "I'm not really meant to work with organics."

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"Not being meant does not mean cannot. Can learn, if you want to." 

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"I don't know." He hums again. "I don't know how to decide that. But I can talk to Daisy about it."

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"Yes. She will likely have better advice on that topic. She has known you longer." 

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"Yes. - I think I might want to stay with her," he adds after a second.

They can just hear a speeder in the distance.

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"I do not think you could stay with her without also staying with Pradnakt," they point out. Their dome turns to the ramp, and they begin moving in that direction. 

"They are very attached," they add. 

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Nine follows. "I know. I don't understand it but she said I probably will once I've seen more of them together."

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They give a positive whirr, "You may," they agree. They come to a stop at the top of the ramp. 

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It's just another second or two before the speeder pulls up, now with a second cart - the kolto tank in its crate takes up practically the entire first one, and the newly-added second is piled high with boxes, netted down rather precariously but apparently having made the trip with no problems. Pradnakt dismounts and begins unhooking the tank while Daisy comes over.

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"It went well - they didn't have all of the parts you wanted," she tells Isk, "but most of them, and we put in an order, they'll be here when we come back. How are you doing?" she addresses Nine.

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"Fine. It was good to have time to think."

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"Good," she grins.

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"Yes, can wait." 

Isk will observe this conversation on their way to the speeder, Once there they make an attention-grabbing beep in Pradnakt's direction and extend their arm towards it, offering to bring it inside.

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She floats the tank out of the wagon, spinning it carefully to get the tow handles arranged the right way before settling it on its casters.

"Everything okay here while we were gone?"

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Affirmative whirr. 

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"Good. And it looks like Alek's recovering pretty well, too, hopefully he won't have to be in for long. - oh, it turns out they make external vocoders, type one and two droids need them sometimes. Got you one."

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Oh, they like that idea much better, at least for now. They might get one installed eventually, if they use this enough, though. They whistle curiously, approaching the carts. 

 

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"One sec -" she steadies the pile and pulls the box out, holding it up for Isk to look at. "I'll help you set it up as soon as I get this stuff inside. Or Daisy can, probably."

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Isk peers at the box, letting out a agreeable whistle-beep. They move back to the tank, reaching out with their grasping attachment to grab onto it and carefully begin to tow it into the ship. 

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Pradnakt follows with part of the pile, then brings the speeder in with the rest of it and looks for Isk again. "Ready to go whenever you are, unless you want to get the vocoder set up first."

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Negative blat. The vocoder can wait until after Alek is not capable of wandering around with holes in his body. "Return to base, tank first," they say, passing through the cargo to head towards the cockpit. 

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"All right." She heads back.

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After a moment, the ship lifts off, turning back in the direction of Pradnakt and Daisy's home. 

Alek is just barely awake, pulled out of sleep by the noise of their return. His gaze pans sleepily over the bay, taking in the tank and boxes through slitted eyelids. He makes an inquiring noise at her when she comes through the door.

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"Hey," she answers, quiet and reassuring, trying not to wake him more than necessary. "We're heading back, just a little longer."

His shoulder feels better already, in the time before she gets close enough to make the pain recede entirely.

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"Mm," the reassurance combined with the lack of pain has him falling asleep again pretty quickly.

It's another hour and a half, or thereabouts, before they touch down again in front of the isolated homestead. Isk stays in the cockpit keeping an eye on their course. Alek sleeps, through both the trip and the landing. 

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By the time the ship touches down again, Pradnakt has the tank unboxed and mostly set up, with the bagged kolto sitting in the remains of the shipping crate, and she sends Daisy to ask Isk whether they want it hooked up to the ship, or somewhere else.

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"Ship," they decide, "Less moving." 

They detach from the port in the cockpit and follow Daisy back to the bay. There's an outlet that should be compatible with the tank just over here, not too far from the door to the rest of the ship. 

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Pradnakt floats it over, rather than move out of range of Alek, and with Daisy and Nine's help soon has it lined up appropriately and ready to be filled.

She does need to be close for the next part, though. She applies some gentle telekinetic pressure, just enough to discourage him from moving too much if he startles, before she nudges Alek's hand.

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-The telekinetic grip, even as light as it is, actually alarms him a bit more than the touch does, but he recognizes her before he can lash out. 

"Nn-wha?" He notices the tank, "Oh. 's ready?" He pushes himself up to a sitting position with the uninjured arm.

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She lets him up immediately. "Just about, yeah, I still need to check the settings. D'you need anything before you go in?"

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He gives it a long look. 

"Sedatives? Or..." He knows Jedi sometimes just meditate when they need to spend time in a kolto tank. He... hasn't really been meditating. Unless you count the thing he does with the fire. He hasn't been counting that, and he can't do it in a tank, anyway. 

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"-if you want 'em, sure."

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"...I don't. I just..." He shifts, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to stall. 

"...I haven't been meditating." He can't exactly let go of his emotions when the force reflects them back at him. 

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"I'm sure the Jedi teach that differently than we do. Do you know where you're running into trouble, or does the whole thing just not appeal?"

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"I can do... most of the calming techniques without the Force. The real trouble is when I try with it. It... it doesn't help anymore. It's like an echo chamber - everything I feel just becomes stronger. And I'd rather not spend however many hours awake without it, stuck in that tank." So, sedatives.

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"-yeah, that's not a five minute fix. I can do a calming effect, but I don't know that I should - bad habit, letting people do things like that to you. Not that sedatives are much better."

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She's right, but. "I don't want to be stuck asleep if Master Manoll catches up to us while I'm in there," he says uncomfortably. 

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"Fair. All right. Sweetheart," she calls to Daisy, "bring us my holoprojector? And a couple boxes of poetry, I don't care what."

A push of calm appears in the Force as she turns to look at the tank's controls, gentle enough that he could easily throw it off if he wanted to, though it's obvious that it could be much stronger.

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He almost throws it off on reflex, but manages to hold back at the last moment. It's difficult, to let himself just... be calmed.

 

Once he relaxes into it, though... well, he can hardly stop himself from collapsing back onto the cot again. He pushes himself slowly to his feet, hoping that being upright will keep him awake, and shakily steps over to stand before the tank. 

"...Thanks," he murmurs, "Should I...?" Get into the tank?

(Isk rolls over from the outlet to take a closer look at the tank, incidentally settling under Alek's good arm so he can lean on them.)

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"Good reflex. Yeah, this looks right to me." She steps aside to let Isk look. "I can fill it first, the instructions say that's down to personal preference."

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Getting to stand there while the kolto slowly covers his body sounds much worse than getting into it already filled. "Yeah, I'd rather it already be full."

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"You got it." She floats a kolto bag over and into the tank, popping it open with a twist once it's inside, then repeats the process until the tank is full. "Need a hand getting up there?"

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"No, I can get up there myself," especially when he's calm like this, even if it is artificial. "-I should probably undress, though." He tugs at his tunic. 

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She looks away. "We can rig up a privacy screen once you're in and settled."

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Once she's not looking anymore, he starts undressing, "Don't worry about it? I don't mind it if people see me naked so long as they're not... staring, or anything. Or being creepy about it." 

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"All right. I'll mostly be reading anyway - my range is a little better with emotion stuff, but I'll still need to stay in the hangar."

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Nod (and sense of agreement). 

Once he's undressed, he hops up to kneel on the lip of the tank. "How long should this take?" He asks before getting in.

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"Hard to know without a full diagnostic - at least two days, maybe more like four. Should be pretty obvious when it's done. And that's for full healing; if you need to come out sooner it doesn't hurt anything, you just heal from there naturally. Might scar, is all."

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"Scars are fine, if I have to come out early," he nods. He pulls the mask over his head, and slips down into the tank, leaning into the calm to keep his breathing perfectly even and mind serene. 

It's... not very comfortable. But with the help of the calm he can ignore it, falling back on meditative exercises until he's settled enough to touch the Force. 

Time seems to fall away, then. 

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Pradnakt brings the cot over and settles in; Daisy brings the holoprojector, after a little while, and the Sith demonstrates how it's set up to be operated by telekinesis while she makes a couple more trips to bring things in - more data discs than the handful that were with the machine, a box of ration bars, a few changes of Sithy clothing, a radio reciever. When she's done, she takes the speeder out.

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Isk watches all this activity for a while, idling in front of the kolto tank. They don't move from that place until Pradnakt is all settled down and Daisy has left. Once things have quieted down, they whistle thoughtfully to themselves, looking around and spotting Alek's belongings on the ground near the tank. With an annoyed noise, they roll over and begin picking them up with their grasper, intending to take the clothes to the sonic laundry machine on board and put his other belongings - belt, pouches, saber and holster, among others - somewhere out of the way. 

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Pradnakt seems fairly engrossed in her poetry, but looks up sharply when Isk moves the lightsaber, first at the droid, and then, concerned, at the boy in the tank, and then back to the droid, bewildered.

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(Alek doesn't stir.)

Isk notices her attention, pausing with the holstered saber still in their grasp. They whistle curiously at her. 

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"-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.

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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. 

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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."

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

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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."

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Acknowledging beep. 

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

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

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

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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.

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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. 

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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. 

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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.

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- 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.

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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. 

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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. 

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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."

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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." 

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"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."

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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. 

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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?"

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"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.)

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"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?"

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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.)

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

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

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"Listen to Daisy about whether you can come back, if you want to, she'll know." She looks up again. "Here we go." She draws her 'saber as she makes her way back down the ramp, and drops the blur effect of the shield, beginning instead to radiate a sense of dark power.

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"I will," he agrees. He stays up at the top of the ramp, saber in hand but not yet activated. 

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And shortly, a ship approaches. While still in the air, someone leaps down from the cockpit, landing on the ground easily despite the long drop. The ship sets down some distance away, while the figure pauses, gazing towards the ship, the homestead, and the Sith standing between him and his fallen padawan. 

His saber drops into his palm, but he doesn't light it. Instead, he begins walking towards them, his pace slow and measured, seemingly in no hurry at all. 

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She holds her ground, watching him come, 'saber lit but held low, threatening only by its presence; its hum masks her quiet, impatient growl.

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It takes him a bit to reach her. 

He stops a short distance away from her, eyeing Alek wearily before turning the whole of his attention on the Sith. He doesn't move to attack her yet, instead he settles there, waiting to see if she will do so, saber held ready but still unlit. He exudes patience and serenity and surety - and the slightest tinge of disappointment, directed at Alek, of course, not her. 

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The Jedi's calm is intensely creepy, and it's an effort of will not to show it. She waits, when he stops, still watching, for long enough to confirm that it's not just a feint. "I'm not going to let you have him," she says then, without preamble, voice pitched low.

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"This is hardly your business, Sith," he points out mildly. "Unless you have claimed him as an apprentice." Though if she has, it will only become more urgent to neutralize the boy before he can learn what she has to teach. 

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She scoffs a huff of genuine laughter. "Oh, that's not how this works at all."

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"Is it not?" His gaze pans up to Alek, and then back down to her again. "I suppose I cannot stop you from stepping in if that is what you wish to do. Still," he produces a disappointed hum. "I cannot claim to have hoped he would have had the strength to turn his back on the Dark," he states, "But I had hoped he would know better than to turn to the Sith." 

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(Up on the ramp, Alek is tense as prey under the gaze of a predator, his emotions a tangled mess - terror, anger, hurt, defiance, shame. His grip on his saber's hilt is tight enough to hurt.)

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Pradnakt's amusement only intensifies. "He didn't. The Force knew where he should be." The tip of her 'saber sways a bit, not quite a threat but certainly a demand for attention: "Not that I expect you to understand."

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"I'm afraid I will have to disagree with you on that, yes." He notes the movement of her saber, but does nothing with this information. It is not yet time to attack her himself, though if she attacks him he is as ready as he would be with his saber lit. 

His gaze goes back to Alek, "Would you really stand on the side of a Sith, Alek?" He calls out to him. "I can feel that the darkness has not wholly consumed you, yet it is only a matter of time. What will become of that which you so needlessly Fell to protect, then? Let me end it, my Padawan." 

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Alek swallows, his eyes darting between his master and Pradnakt. He... isn't swayed by his words. The reference to Isk might have left him conflicted a few days ago, but... Pradnakt is proof he can learn control. 

"It wasn't needless," he states in return, "You sold them." 

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Esche sighs, "I did what was necessary for our mission. We would have come back for Isk, if we could, you know that."

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"Isk didn't want you to sell them, Master. And... And we would have been too late. He was already installing the restraining bolt when I got there. He would have wiped them before we got back."

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"Isk is a droid, Alek," he says, weary. "Your attachment to droids has always been concerning," he acknowledges, "But even you must see that killing a sentient who was only doing his job was wrong. Droids are not truly sentients, Padawan, even if some may put on a convincing show of it." 

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(Pradnakt's presence in the force flickers from amusement to rage, well-controlled but clearly present, looming, pure and strong. A disturbance in the Force at her left hand suggests a bolt of lightning aborted in the earliest stages of creation, but she doesn't interject, not yet.)

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Alek's own emotions swing in that direction as well, anger overtaking the others which had been fighting within him before. He takes a half-step forward, but stops himself before he can move any farther. He'd promised to stay back.

He can't seem to say anything in return to his master's statement. His words are all tied up and refusing to come out in any sensible way. His fury rather speaks for itself, though, he thinks.

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It does, yes. Esche's attention snaps back to the Sith when her emotions shift, his own presence flickering with wariness momentarily before returning to that steady calm.

"I see there will be no reasoning with either of you," he notes. He shifts into a ready stance, and flicks his saber to life, the bold blue blade humming into place. "I will go through you to complete my duty," he warns her. It won't pain him to do so, either. To rid the galaxy of another spot of darkness would be a privilege. 

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She's closing from the moment his stance changes, moving fast, pouring fear onto him in a torrent, hoping to put him on the defensive.

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It has some effect, shaking his equilibrium to some degree, but Esche is a veteran of many battles. He can hold his calm through worse than this.

Whether he is put on the defensive depends, given that he was already intending to start this duel off that way. He parries her first attack, and flows smoothly into a counterattack from there.

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She doesn't let up; the fear intensifies somewhat, in fact, before settling into an oppressive constant. Meanwhile she parries and slashes at him again, trying to push him back from the ship.

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The additional fear allows her to push him back a few paces, before he comes to terms with it. He does not intend to move farther away from his goal than this if he can help it, though. And he can do a great deal to help him in this goal. He is not called a blademaster for nothing. 

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She does try to push him a little farther, but switches to a more defensive approach when he doesn't budge, apparently feeling him out.

After a minute she whistles as she strikes, to no immediately obvious effect.

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Well, that's odd. While parrying he turns some attention to his surroundings, trying to figure out who she might have been signaling. Alek still hasn't moved, though he's tense with the effort of holding himself in place in the entrance to the ship. There's no one else around for some distance, as far as he can tell.

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She presses the attack with a burst of speed, lightning suddenly crackling around the base of her 'saber and her other hand, potentially distracting from the sound of a blaster shot coming from above and behind him.

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He is somewhat distracted by this - he hasn't encountered many Sith who could keep up two such complicated techniques at once, while also in one-on-one saber combat - but that doesn't stop him from sensing the danger and redirecting the shot just in time. This leaves a brief opening in his defense, however.

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She takes it, aiming to disable rather than kill. "-Alek-"

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"Aaagh-" He falls to one knee, catching himself with both hands when the lack of a second knee nearly sends him tumbling to the ground face-first. The shock of it sends him out of his carefully-cultivated calm, though the pain doesn't seem to be registering yet. 

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Alek leaps forward when she calls, his rage pushing past fear and more conflicting feelings to urge him forwards before he even fully registers what had just happened. He lands a few paces away from the two of them, stalking forward with all his attention on Master Manoll. 

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Esche peers up at Alek as he approaches, breathing hard, sweat gathering on his brow as the pain of the cauterized wound slowly begins to increase. 

"...Going to have him kill me, then?" He asks the Sith, his words coming in gasps. One further push into the darkness, to have the Fallen Padawan kill his Master? 

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The fear eases, but the lightning continues to crackle around her hands and up her arms, sparking with a fuzz of pops and hisses; if the crest of his pain is a little lower than it'd otherwise be, well, he's unlikely to have anything to compare it to. She keeps her 'saber and her eyes trained on him. "As you like," she turns her head slightly to address Alek.

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Alek pauses next to her, staring down at the Jedi. 

...He'd thought, earlier, that he wouldn't be able to kill his master. He's not so sure that's true, now. No, he's quite sure he could kill Esche Manoll, from this place where his desire to end this threat permanently is so much stronger. It would be easy to do it. 

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"Padawan?" Esche asks, voice gentle, though strained. It seems unlikely that he'll escape this situation alive. Perhaps he can stop Alek from making a mistake, however. "You do not have to do this, Alek." 

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"...I don't." Alek agrees, voice coming out harsh around the heaviness in his throat.

 

He stares for a moment longer, the inner conflict rising, and then - stilling. He's still enraged, but... almost tranquil with it, his path clear. This is his responsibility.

He takes another step forward, and his blade activates, forming a short arc of plasma before he deactivates it on the other side of his Master's neck. 

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The Sith deflates, just slightly, as the Jedi's presence fades into the Force; the crackle of lightning dissipates and her 'saber retracts, and she steps over to put an arm around the young man's shoulders.

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He tenses just the slightest amount, for a bare fraction of a second, before slumping into her side, all his tension bleeding away. He stares at the body, shivering a little.

 

"I-" he swallows, squeezing his eyes shut, "He never would have stopped chasing us. He was awful to Isk. I know you would have killed him, but he was my master. My responsibility," he reasons, his voice quiet. 

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"Yeah." She's somber, but sounds fond, too, and proud of him, just a little. "That's why I offered." She gives him a little squeeze. "You'll be all right."

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Nod. He breathes. In, and out.

 

Yeah, he'll be alright.