The refurbished and modernized X-70b, dubbed ‘Shimmer’ was quiet. Only a mere low hum filled the bridge, reflecting sound from the Kashyyykian hardwood flooring against the plastisteel wall tiles.
Malfearak Asvraal and Alaisy Tir'eivra sat at the dining table, collecting their thoughts and discussing points of interest as their Zygerrian pilot dropped the ship gently from Hyperspace.
A silvery, soft voice called out from the cockpit. “We’re here! Tratlaum’s riches await. According to the local weather report, it is now dark and cloudy, with various patches of acid rain and really just all-around nasty gasses. Do enjoy your stay. Zag out.”
They weren’t quite there yet. First, they had to pass by several trading outposts, each with their own checkups. Verify their objectives. And then they’d have to pass an Imperial Remnant stronghold, or two, or three if they were unlucky.
Of course between that, and afterward, there was always a chance for pirate attacks. For a purple mining planet on the edge of Hutt space, it really was quite popular these days.
Malfearak sank back in the cushions of his seat, trying to enjoy the last few moments of comfort before they stepped out into the hell-hole that was Tratlaum. He’d never been there before, but he’d read reports about the place. A few years back, miners had discovered the fossils of some ancient creature. He’d seen the pictures. An impressive and, he had to admit, terrifying specimen. Not unlike the Sith sitting across from him. He had to admit, she was a confounding creature. She was polite and pleasant in an aristocratic kind of way and there was a pristine beauty to her. The reflective black of her attire espoused her exotic forms in a pleasing manner, one that drew the eyes. Yet, she looked like she could kill at a moment’s notice, and he suspected she could. Her signature in the Force, the swirl of darkness and pain, only drove the point home further.
He ran his finger along the brim of his empty glass as once more a question popped in his mind.
“I’ve skirted the question so far, but I gotta ask: why divide your memories in such fashion?” he asked. It had been on his mind from the moment she had revealed the purpose of her crystals. Why would someone do this? Dark secrets? Everyone had those. He sure did.
Alaisy could tell that Zag was happy to stay in the cockpit this time around. It was rare that she heard the Zygerrian sound so chipper in her presence. It must have been sarcastic. Everything about this was strange. A bit nostalgic even. The last time she had been here she had only just started on her research.
The pressure of visiting her old home planet was building up. Especially in the company of this curious wanderer on the other side of her. She had no expectations, but something told her that she had made the right choice to take him along. There was a strength in him. A curiosity that wasn’t worn down, despite clearly having a lot under his belt. She blinked rapidly as his lips began to move.
“They are not placed at random. I have chosen fonts of power.” Electric-blue eyes stared into his inviting gaze. “Dangerous enough places to keep others at bay. Strong enough to channel them across the stars.” She kept her answers cryptic but true. There had been a price paid for each one of them.
He could tell she was being cryptic, but he couldn’t blame her. She didn’t seem the type who would unravel her baggage to a friend, let alone a stranger like him. He decided it was best to stow his curiosity for the time being. There would time enough to unearth the truth about the why’s and the how’s.
“So tell me, m'lady, what’s the plan?”
“Our pilot will be taking us through at least one outpost. A short stop. I have a contact at the Deonor port. We can refuel there and get a reliable update on the status quo here.” Her eyes darted towards the cockpit. “Zag, did you get clearance yet?”
The Zyggerian gave her a delayed answer. “I, think so. They were a little too inviting. Be careful out there. I’ll be keeping my hand on the trigger.”
As Alaisy engaged with her pilot, Malfearak closed his eyes and reached out with the Force, projecting it past the ship to the world beyond. He had sensed something as they entered the atmosphere, a darkness, an aura of a sort. He sought it now, uncertain as to what he was looking for. Tratlaum had a reputation amongst scientists, not just because of the pirate activity or the Imperial Remnants. The inhospital environment itself was a daunting obstacle for any enterprising entity. Now, he wondered if perhaps the source of this dark signature was at least partly to blame.
He wondered if she felt it too, though he refrained from asking. It occured to him that perhaps it had something to do with her.
He reached out further, concentrating, proding the unknown…
Shimmer slowed down as it approached Deonor port. There were no windows to look through, but for both Malfearak and Alaisy there was no clear signature on the space station. Static, that would be the feeling that described it. Unlike the planet that lay ahead of them, which was almost reaching out for them. Beckoning.
Both Alaisy and Zag had been quiet. Tir'eivra leaned against the cushioned seating, seemingly in a trance as she didn’t blink once. The only thing moving was the tip of her tail, at times still and then twitchy.
A jolt ran over her spine. She sat up straight. Her mask hissed as she coughed. “Excuse me.” Her eyes had tears built up in the corners.
“Are you alright?” Malfearak asked, leaning forward reflexively.
She scraped her throat. “Y-yes, thank you. I take it the feeling was hard to miss?” Her pupils were hard to see, being only slightly darker blue than the iris. The mask accentuated the contrast, showing their dilation.
Malfearak ran a hand through his stubble, the nonchalant twist his lips taking on a grim curve. He nodded.
“Hard to miss, yeah. What is that?”
This was nothing she had ever done before, explaining a vision that matched a dream, or a nightmare rather. Alaisy shuffled around on her seat, trying to find some comfort, letting the tail rest on her lap.
“I am not exactly clear on what it is, however, I can try to tell you what I felt. It is familiar.” She ran her hand around the metal-plated neck corset and realized she couldn’t quite run her hand around her neck.
“When I was a little girl, there were dreams. Visions. At the time I believed them to be part of my awakening.” This was already far too personal for comfort, but she continued. “They were not part of me. And I realize my mistake. They are of the dead. And I fear that they are not inanimate any longer. If they ever were.”
She balled her fist, almost piercing the glove with her inactivated vibronails. “It seems to be moving, large masses at once.”
“Writhing,” Malfearak added, his voice but a whisper. He nodded, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his silver eyes locked on her.
“What an apt observation, I could not have thought of the word.” Her nails scraped the durasteel adorning her neck.
Malfearak notices a single nail going around the crystal under her neck. Every time Alaisy passes by the lower edge glints change patterns, as if the tiny sparkles are trying to move with her. Something is trapped and whatever it is wants out.
Malfearak considered what he might do next, weighing whether she may be insulted if he might…
He looked her dead on, eyes warm but sharp, “I realize I may not have earned your trust… May I see the crystal?”
She gave him a stern look but obliged and inclined her head. With pinched fingers, she peeled the twinned tubes off the frame on each side. The little hisses of air removed the vacuum seal around the crystal itself. A second later it dropped out, into her hand.
With care, she laid it down on the table in front of the Kessurian. The swirling stopped immediately after she retreated her hand. “What did you see?”
“I am… Not certain,” he admitted. He closed his eyes and stretched out his hand slowly towards the crystal. He breathed through nostrils, slow and controlled, as he visualised it in his mind, opened himself to its signature in the Force.
The tip of his finger touched its ice-cold surface.
Malfearak’s touch made the stone vibrate. The texture of it went from smooth to grainy. From cold to hot. A sudden white flash. Then more. It increased in rhythm until it became a single white room. The crystal sucked his conciousness into a different plane.
“Malfaerak Asvraal, we hoped you would join us.” Slithering blobs of inky black formed at his bare feet. “Can we show you? Please?” The many-voiced entity sounded childlike and jovial.
On the other end, Tir'eivra saw the ash-pink man freeze in time. “Malfearak, are you there?” Her voice did not reach him.
There was no fear. No terror. Only curiosity. Malfearak leaned forward as he had when questioning Alaisy and nodded softly.
“Show me,” he said. What they were, where they were, it would be revealed in time. He would listen, first, to what they offered.
“One at a time, one at a-.” Blobs became splotches and dragged themselves over the white and texture-less room. They would almost have dissipated into the far end of the horizon if it wasn’t for a streak of mist left behind.
Malfearak followed after the blotches. It was a strange sensation, moving through the place-less room towards an horizon that seemed to lay beyond existence itself.
As Malfearak chased the eldritch shapes, the environment changed with them. White became the ragged, rocky, amethyst-hued plains of Tratlaum. There was a sulfurous stench and sounds of drilling machinery. Between the static there were screams, and crying of young children. Life was sparse, usually teal-colored grasses and almost dead, black-stemmed trees.
The air became repressive as if oxygen turned to lead. The inky blotches burrowed through the rocks, leaving ground dust behind.
Pleasant juvenile voices warped into tragic whimpering. “We are here.” It whispered with a near-eternal, deep echo.
A large, obsidian-barked willow stood in front of Asvraal, casting the shadow of Tratlaum’s adjacent purple star over him. The ink became a puddle, then warped into a single entity. It trickled out of the crushed ground, shiny hair first. It stopped at half his height. A face emerged, feminine, sad, a half-mask on her face. A white sap leaked from the tree onto the girl’s feet. Her hands were held out towards Malfaerak.
A handle of something formed in the Kessurian’s hands. A vibroblade. Blood gushed out of the girl’s stomach. Her upturned eyes looked up at him, glowing red. Her little hands white from the tree’s sap, clutching at the wound.
What had he done?
Hands trembling, Malfearak threw the vibroblade down. The words struggled to form in his throat, the only one escaping a whimpered, “Who…”
He crumbled to one knee, all too aware of the truth—that this was a vision—and yet emotionally enraptured, the blood of the girl all too real. Despite the nightmaresque fresco painted before him, he reached out to the little girl. Who was she? This sap, it seemed… alive.
“Who… are you?” he managed to whisper.
The picture disintegrated. The whole world began to fall. The floor under Malfearak disappeared. He fell.
On the other side, Alaisy stood watch over the Kessurian, who seemed deep in trance. His body twitched, but time passed much quicker in the vision.
Malfearak closed his eyes as he fell, casting the Force out into the nether, searching for the entity that had brought him here.
“Show me more’” he implored as existence rushed passed him.
The stretched-out void became glimpses of other surfaces. Planets, and other crystals, all connected to this one. All paths in her life, stored away. Some were passive, like memories. Others seemed alive, ready to grasp him. Perhaps these were corrupted.
Alaisy. This was his single thought. He didn’t quite grasp what he was seeing, but he understood now why she sought these crystals. Her crystals.
He opened himself to the crystals in the Force, seeking their resonance. Would the bond between crystals allow him to learn more?
As Asvraal floated down a tunnel of sometimes repeating worlds, he could make out several clear patterns. The power of the Force was strong in each of these places. And there was something deeply unsettling about the ones that came by more than once. One was clear already, Tratlaum. Others were markedly different.
One place that repeated itself almost so much that it became a film, was a crimson planet. Symbols of the Nightsisters. And just like the purple planet, the dead arose. Dangerous monsters. The corruptive tendrils almost grasped him.
It pulled back as another place flickered before him. One that was cerulean. Water. Known for its healing powers. An aquatic species known as the Selkath dwelled here.
No other locations repeated themselves, except for one. This one was steeped in darkness. Hidden flora and fauna glowed with fluorescence. Starships of immense sizes were constructed with a heavy, white-grey metal known as doonium.
His fall slowed down and his world returned to white.
A sing-song, silvery voice addressed him. “You made it.” A figure of half-white and half-black stood in front of him. A woman only slightly shorter than Malfearak.
Dathomir, Manaan, Umbara
Malfearak whispered the names again. Tratlaum, Dathomir, Manaan, Umbara. He commited them to memory as he stepped towards the woman. Who was she? Alaisy in ethereal form? Once more, he reached out, presenting his hand, palm outstretched.
It was Alaisy, a younger version of her. There was a hollowness to her. As if pieces were missing. The form reached out for his hand.
A jolt of electricity ran through their palms. Malfearak fell backward, with seemingly no way to stop the falling.
His speed increased. Until all became a blur.
When he awoke, the interior of Shimmer seemed to be upside down. His vision pulled upwards, then flickered back to where it was. This repeated several times until his mind mirrored reality correctly.
Malfearak shook his head and forced a grin to strained features. “Well… that was, huh, fruitful.”
He pushed to his feet, his head swimming from the rush of the vision. He stepped away, heading no where in particular, he just had to move. He needed to ground himself in reality. He needed…
“I need a drink,” he said aloud.
Alaisy had already poured one out for him. A Corellian brandy was waiting for him.
“There is more, if you need it.”
Malfearak nodded in gratitude as he accepted the drink. He didn’t realize it but he was panting, as if he’d run a marathon. He took a long, drawn-out sip and he plopped himself back in his seat. He looked at the crystal as he spoke.
“First… I need to apologize if I glimpsed any thing you would otherwise keep to yourself. My intentions were not to, huh, pry,” he forced a smile an apologetic smile to his lips. “I can assure you, anything I glimpsed will not leave the Shimmer. Now…”
He launched into a recounting of his vision, going into intricate details about what he witnessed, from the writhing blobs to the many locations. He described the events with the little girl by the tree, the vibroblade in his hand and all that followed. He was an academic. He knew the importance of details and so, he did not spare any. He watched her as he spoke but he did not reach out with the Force. He had intruded on her privacy enough for one day.
Alaisy looked him in the eyes as she picked up her crystal.
“It was a brave, and dangerous thing you did here. There was a possibility that you would not get back out.”
She smiled with her eyes and let out a drawn-out sigh, making the mask hiss.
“I was right to ask you to join me. The visions you witnessed have been hitting me hard lately. Albeit in a different form. How fascinating.”
“Dangerous, perhaps,” he flashed a mischievous grin, starting to regain his composure. “I’ll admit, this was a first. Never glimpsed such vivid visions before.”
Though he did not purposefully reach out to her in the Force, he could not exactly shut her out either. Her presence danced on the periphery of his consciousness as they exchanged words and he could feel an hollowness to it, not unlike the one he had felt standing before her black and white from in the vision. It confounded him. More than once he was tempted to reach out, to probe this strange sensation, yet he refrained. She seemed to take his brashness in stride, perhaps going so far as to admire this trait, but he wasn’t about to risk her ire. There would be time enough.
Still, there was something to this.
They could hear the ship dock, the airlock hissing as the pressure equalized. “We’re here. And I’m having my lunch now, don’t be too long please.” Zag’s voice seemed unimpressed but there was a hint of trepidation in it.
Malfearak pushed to his feet, adjusting the straps and pouches of his attire before retrieving his cloak. He drapped the armorweave fabric over his shoulders then fastened the clasp around his neck. He turned his attention to his helmet. As he did so, he grew acutely aware of the weather outside, his montrals vibrating to the wild atmospheric impulses of Tratlaum. He pulled the helm over his head, clamped it down, immediately dampening the vibrations. The helm’s breathing apparatus whistled as he took his first filtered breath.
“All set.”
“Let us see who greets us first.” Her mask hissed with a higher pitch, both when she inhaled or exhaled. Oxygen now came from the twin tanks on her back, the air scrubbers being rudimentary in this situation.
“After you.” She made a short bow and held out her palm as they reached the unsealed door.
“Are we expecting trouble?” he asked as he took his first step out onto Tratlaum. Pinpricks of acid rain fell onto his cloak as he did so. Armorweave had seemed like a frivolity when he’d first assembled his attire. Now, it didn’t seem so bad.
The tall woman pulled a dark cloak over herself, it latched onto the ponytail cuff and formed into a hood as she pulled it up.
“Keep your hand on a hilt, there is always someone, or something waiting for visitors beyond the hills over there.” She pointed towards the North. A glimpse of the amethyst light shone through the thick, greenish clouds.
“Will do.”