The Devils in the Details: The Red Door, Part 4

[Tear]

Across the galaxy he reached with hands of black intent. Bodiless he willed himself through the melody of space. Past its gardens of brilliant nebulae. Past its dance of crystallized asteroids that glittered like fresh tears among the thousands of scorching stars. Past the orbit of a planet that seemed to, in the blink of an eye, rush into his feet from the emptiness of space. Tear stumbled, his stomach heaving under the vertigo of witnessing such a supernatural event. The feeling of the soft grass against his feet and between his clutching fingers gave the Grand Inquisitor a temporary position of relief from the spinning world around him. With a suck of breath, Tear took a shaking step up onto his feet and began taking in the environment he had been plunged into.

This is where it begins.

The voice, his voice, Gods voice, rumbled and cracked like a roaring inferno, echoing through the forested hills Tear now found himself walking through. Once again the Inquisitor stumbled but this time caught himself against the trunk of a nearby tree. His palm bumped and scraped roughly along the ancient bark. It was scorched black with visible traces of blaster marks blown from its base. Tear moved to inspect the marks closer when the towering tree suddenly began to contort and sway under his touch. At first he thought it was the wind wailing through its branches that caused it to twist and scream. His hand came away and the ancient arbor stiffened, great cracks forming up its trunk until, like a log on a camp fire, it split and crumbled into a pile of smoldering ash.

"What is this place?" He didn't understand and looking at his hands now stained with ash didn't provide anymore clues to where exactly he was.

What do you taste?

The voice echoed back seemingly from every direction. The Grand Inquisitor's face bent in frustration to the enigmatic response. His fiery eyes again took in his surroundings looking for anything of the slightest familiarity that could provide a clue to his location. It was a forested world, at least this continent seemed to be forested. By the marks on the tree it had seen combat. Not that a world with conflict would set aside from any other planet in the entire galaxy. He looked up to the sky, which spun in an instantaneous nauseating fashion. Tear puffed his cheeks, feeling his stomach swell, dropping him once again to his knees amongst the mound of ash.

"What do I taste?" Tear spat in annoyance as the black dust soaked up his saliva and dried out his mouth. "I taste..." Blackened fingers rose up to touch the tip of his tongue which had oddly begun to tingle. The sensation only grew with the added ash freshly licked from his now clean fingers. Illumination flickered through his body, arcing out from his stomach and up, to weave through his spine and into his brain where the awareness settled upon him like a shaky holovid slide show. A frantic battle being waged against soldiers of bone. This was it, he thought with a chime of realization, the worlds identity.

Violent acts often left the most severe impressions in the force. Leaving the land scarred or deformed after witnessing certain conflicts. It is why the dark side was so often found bound to places of tragedy. With eager hands Tear began to shovel mouthfuls of the smoldering black into his face. To the point where his chewing teeth couldn't keep up with the swallowing greediness of his persistent action. It was then he noticed something sharp stuck between his teeth. Between forefinger and thumb he plucked it from his gums, his eyes turning to slits as he strained to comprehend what he saw.

"It tastes of honor and dying tradition..." It was a tiny Mandalorian helmet.

"This is Mandalore?" As if on queue the forest around him erupted with the sounds of battle. Two sides were trading fire with the Grand Inquisitor still hunched over a pile of ash directly in the middle. On the one side it was clear the soldiers of bone he had seen previously were storm troopers. They're front line soldiers spewing flame through the thick underbrush as they marched confidently forward. The other line were attempting to fight a guerrilla style battle taking pot shots from behind the numerous trees before displacing. Several stray blaster bolts passed ghostly through the Inquisitors body. Of course, Tear thought, as he came to realize the battle that was unfolding wasn't happening now but had already occurred. It was the Mandalorian resistance movement fighting a losing battle.

Tear moved through the battle field like a subtle whisper taking in the full scene. He could see why this particular skirmish had scratched such grooves in the force. The Mandalorian's were being slaughtered. It looked like they had unknowingly been drawn into a trap. Beneath their helmets he could feel the desperation, the anger, the throbbing hate for their oppressors.

In the middle of it all like some composer of chaos a single warrior shined like a beacon. Ani'la Akaan stood dressed in the blood of battle. Her shrill battle cries orchestrating both fear in the stormtroopers and confidence in her men. By all accounts the Imperials should have overrun the Mandalorians position hours ago but yet as Tear circled through the battlefield he watched with admiration as Ani'la rallied her men time after time to hold against overwhelming odds. That was until a squadron of tie fighters came screaming from the cloud cover above. Ripping into the Mandalorian's position with a lancing air strike that left the battle field eerily calm in their smoldering wake.

She lives

"I know. I can feel her now." The world around Tear suddenly heaved and shattered sucking the Inquisitor back past stretching lines of stars that fill the void of space until he returned to the place he had started. The room was dim and cold, hundreds of meters beneath a particular planets surface. Tear sat crossed legged, his body bare with one hand stretched forward to lay against the icy metallic finish of an ancient Sith artifact that stood magnificently before him.

Something tiny scurried with six legs up from Tears thigh and across the skin of his fore arm. Avoiding the rivers of crimson that leaked and poured from his mouth and ears. The insect wasn't entirely an insect at all but a nano produced imitation that was doing its best to monitor the Grand Inquisitors degenerating condition.

"Come back brother..." The hollow gravel voice of Naberius boomed deep through the massive underground chamber. The viceroy knelt low offering a cradling hand as Tear disengaged his arm from the artifact.

Tear's eyes opened slowly, his eyelashes felt sticky and his lips cracked with the taste of iron. Naberius's voice was muffled for some reason. A testing hand came away from his ear revealing blood.

"Ah..." Tear murmured, that would explain why all sounds had dimmed. He had meditated too long for the answers he sought and the force had ravaged his body for every minute he had spent apart from it. The Inquisitor attempted to turn his neck to face his friend causing it to creak like the frame of an old wooden door. He moved to speak but his mouth was still full of blood. Naberius already knew what he was going to ask for and withdrew a small syringe from the folds of his ever shifting robe. Promptly injecting its swirling silver contents into the Inquisitors neck. The reptile was quick to clutch Tears seizing body as the drugs effects took hold.

"God has revealed the path to me." Tear spat the blood like venom to the stone floor. His voice cracked weakly but despite the weakness in its sound the serum was fast acting. A chest that once wheezed for each struggling breath moments ago now swelled confidently and with a quick hop the Grand Inquisitor rose defiantly to his feet.

"Where does it begin?" The reptile rose as well quickly towering over of the Inquisitor.

"Mandalore."

[Hera]

Hera strolled the deck of the Star Destroyer "Glory," crossing its gleaming floors with an assured air that she had not possessed just six short months before. At that time, any self-assurance she'd displayed had been, for the most part, a grand charade for the benefit of her Inquisitoriate Captors and their insufferable plebs - bravado'ing her way with much more bark than any bite she could ever have mustered. At that time, she had considered herself little more than a performing bear tethered by a fitted Imperial collar on a decptively loose, but finely measured, leash. She had been declawed, denuded of her Sith power and dismissed as any real threat to the Empire - or more relevantly, to the Inquisitoriate.

But that was six months, give or take, ago. Things had changed demonstratively and Hera was far from being shy about exhibiting that truth.

Since her 'liberation' (and the term is used at its loosest) by Tear from the Citadel, Hera was given the freedom to explore and exercise her returning Force ability without the concern of what her captors might do should they discover it. She did not have to skulk around and manipulate scenarios where she might practice using the force - here, with Tear, it was encouraged, even expected. And Hera had always been a capable student in the dark arts, excelling in particular in the arena of manipulation. Her latest efforts bringing her a great deal of personal satisfaction in her progress.

A cool smile tugged absently at the Sith's full lips as she walked the bridge and an Ensign who caught it inadvertantly, squirmed a little nervously in his seat. A smiling devil like Hera was never considered a good thing and the Ensign busied himself flicking switches and twiddling dials. Dren Kast didn't even register - her mind was some place far more interesting..


********************

The previous night:

Mephis breathed deeply. Beneath the sheet, his chest rose and fell with the calm rhythm of sound sleep and Hera looked on with mild fascination. He was beautiful to watch. Lifting herself up on one elbow, she rested her chin in her palm and studied the young Officer stretched out beside her in his bed.

The face was relaxed. His long lashes spidering softly against his skin were incredibly long - it was something Hera had not noticed when he was awake. Perhaps it was because Mephis never liked to look at her for any length of time, she knew. She certainly had never thought of herself as repulsive, but with Mephis, she got the distinct impression that she was.

She stretched out her hand, wanting to touch his lips with her fingertips, but she refrained. It would not do to wake him - not yet.

His mind was still closed to her. He was so determined and she found she liked that about him. The challenge was worthy of her effort. He was strong. Even in his unconscious state he refused her and would not let her close, but that would change. She would see to it.

His toussled hair gave him such a youthful vulnerability as he lay sleeping that Dren Kast had to stiffle a giggle at the sheer wickedness his coruption required. Yes, a very worthy challenge.

Two decks over from Mephis's bedroom Hera centered herself on the floor of her own quarters and concentrated harder. Her projected self, beside the sleeping Imperial, leaned toward his ear and though there was no warm breath that passed from her lips onto his skin, her presence beside him was palpable.

"Mephis"

Her voice probed his psyche, just as it had each of the past four nights before this.

"Let me in, Mephis"

And just as in the past four nights the door to his mind and spirit remained closed.

Hera focused further. She brought her knowledge of the Sith Arts to bear and even drew upon the tactics of the ancient Mage, Rommelisch who had appeared to her in a similar form on occassions, to levy against Mephis. She invested more of herself into the projection, embodying in her tone her longing for him and willing him to hear her.

"Mephis"

Her whisper was insistent, like the continual dripping of a faucet, not changing in cadence or volume yet accumulating in its overall pressure, nonetheless.

"Let me in, Mephis"

Her voice was sweet and supplicatory, guileless..

"Mephis, please, let me in"

And then, just like that, Mephis stirred. He didn't wake, he didn't open the floodgates to his mind, but he stirred. He heard her and despite what his awake state would refuse or reject, he inclined his ear to her with a ghost of acceptance.

****************************

Hera would be a fool to read too much into his reaction, but she was never in any danger of doing such a thing. She understood the workings of the darkside - a period of subtlety was often at play long before any devastating coup could be realised. All the Masters were well versed in this. But to say she was well on the right track where her plan for Mephis was concerned was not too ambitious an outloook.

"When do you expect Inquisitor Tear to return aboard ship?" Hera demanded of the Ensign who wouldn't raise his eyes to meet her candid appraisal.
He did not really know how to respond, not that he didnt know when Tear was expected back, he just didnt know if he should append 'Sir' or "Maam" or "Captain" when he addressed her. To say she had full authority in the Grand Inquisitor's absence would be accurate, Tear had made that very clear when he had left planetside. But what did one call her? What was less likely to tick her off - the blonde Sith was well known not to suffer ignorant 'little runts' gladly, as poor Ronson found out when she snapped his wrist in irritation at his misspelling of her name in a comm-note to the master-cook asking for croissants at breakfast instead of bagels...Sure, Hera wasn't a hard name, but lots of people might have typed "Hear" by accident.

"Um...he left a holo-message for you in your Quarters, Maam--Miss--Hera um, Dren Kast" The Ensign flinched, but Hera had already turned on her heel and was leaving the deck, presumably to return to her rooms and hear what Tear would instruct her.

[Tear]

Somewhere in the outer rim a particular planet rumbles with the ruckus of industry. In its high orbit the stars are finding new company with the bustling construction of a shipyard station. Its crescent shape, giving it the appearance of cradling the spherical curve of the planet it orbits. Despite its state of incompletion it has already begun to form as the focal point for many traders.

Beneath the lines of moving satellites, deep past the rumbling charcoal clouds and dried gold of the planets rolling plains, a grand fortress stands. At the forefront of the black citadel, long flowing tapestries of crimson crackled against the rumbling sky. The ridged spine of mountains in the distance forever thundering with flashing bolts of lighting, scorching the jagged peaks a permanent black. A long oval balcony protruded, like a child's pouty bottom lip, from the mid section of the citadels foremost spire. From this vantage point he could see it all. The crooked shapes of star destroyers in the nights sky. The ever growing station, locally nick named Hurom's belt, as it continued to blot out a path of stars in the wake of its rolling construction. Beneath the stars and below the overlooking balcony the culmination of two years of training and preparation was being expressed in formation.

These soldiers, once civilians, had been struggling to rebuild in the trail of destruction left by the clone wars. After the wars and suffered battles, their planet was cast away, its usefulness spent and left to smolder in its own ruin. Kept in the black by the heel of the Empire. The people starved, no jobs to be found, no food to be grown or harvested. On the brink of slow destruction that teetered over a sharp unforgiving edge. That was until they arrived. Bearing the flag of the Empire, but not. Wearing the armor and bearing the weapons of the Empire, but not. They helped rebuild, and restructure. Most of all they made pledges the people couldn't refuse.

The ire in the natives heart's did much to encourage their new path as the promise of revenge brought vigor to their revitalizing society. Academies of war sprang up to give the healthy and strong a place to learn. Barracks replaced the slums giving the homeless a source of hope. Factories were raised giving those who chose not to serve, jobs in which, to provide for their families. They had been brought from the brink of extinction and for his hand in it, they loved him.

Tear, former Grand Inquisitor of the Empire, stood his hands set upon the railing of the large balcony over looking the precise march and salute of his new soldiers. From a total population of approximately seven hundred and ninety million, a proud three hundred and sixty three million had enlisted, men and women, young and old alike. Tear found use for them all.

Although his keen attention was on his troops, there was the familiar sound of heavy metallic foot steps echoing ever closer from behind.

"You have the final report I take it?"

"Sshri. Tchul' delgo gra'dana'bala. Julo' del'ulo Uurg Dakar rak."
[*"Military preparations are complete. Hardware and supplies have already been delivered to the fleet in orbit. Troops are beginning transport as we speak."] Naberius's forked tongue clicked smoothly, even eloquently, a far cry from his usual gravelly voice.

"And the diplomats? Have they returned?"

[*"Most. Feriae Junction, Toprawa, Elom, Geonosia, The Oricho sector including Veronia, and the Lahara sector, including Agamar, have all signed the pledge in return for military support in stripping the Empire from their worlds. While Mirial, with its inexplicable crop failure has requested our aid and signed the pledge. Tiss'Sharl, Ruuria, Vinsoth, and Taris have likewise been persuaded to sign as well."]

"What of our Imperial allies are the Moffs ready?"

[*"Moff Dural and his sector consisting of Teyr, Vulvarch, Bassadro, and Devaron advises his fleet is combat ready for their campaign against Fondor. Moffs Bel, Glasya, and Ormance advise the Arkanis sector is being quelled but the Arkanis Regency has been slowing down progress. Regardless Moff Bel advises it will be dealt with and their fleets will be ready on time. Moff Lorbar and Moloch have sent word, their fleets in the Gordian Reach have secured the planets within. Moff Samael advises Glythe sector has finished its fortifications."]

Naberius paused then, regarding Tear with careful eyes, as he considered how to explain Moff Modeus's progress in the Braxant Sector.

[ "Braxant sector has been..." ]

"Has been what..." Tear gave Naberius a glance from the corner of his eyes noting the reluctance in his brothers voice.

[*"Secured, for the most part but Moff Modeus has been unable to guarantee full control of Sartinaynian when the time comes." ]

"Sartinaynian? You mean Bastion. That is unacceptable. If we lose Bastion at the beginning of this campaign it could spell disaster for all our efforts on that front."

[*"Modeus is the rightful Moff so those loyal to him will serve. The issue is with the die hard Imperialist they may refuse to follow and if that happens... "]

"Enough. God has shown us this path and any struggles that we come upon when we traverse it are there for a purpose." Tear's voice was calm, confident even, everything was falling into place as his God had foreseen.

Even though the news hadn't shaken the Inquisitor's resolve he noticed Naberius's lips had peeled back grimly. The reptile wasn't one to tolerate even the implication of failure, especially on his behalf. Naberius wore the many scars of success to the extent that even in the face of death he had not succumbed. Rather he chose to endure as something else. Something far more terrible and unnatural then even Tears machinations could predict. Beneath the writhing black robes that wrapped themselves around his massive frame there was little left that would resemble a Trandoshan.

"Do you miss it?"

The towering giant remained silent for a moment, his dagger shaped eyes blinking slowly as he contemplated the question with measured remorse. [*" I miss flesh like a human would miss a broken heart. I am better without it. Although, I admit..."] Naberius was looking down now. Watching the movement of his left claw as it closed and opened with the slightest whirr of servos within.

[ "...The constant susurrous can be maddening at times."] He gave a dissatisfied grunt, clearly tired of the subject. [*"Come brother, tell me again what God has shown you."]

Tear's lips broke into a smile. It sometimes surprised him to find small marks of the Trandoshan that existed from before the transformation. Especially when those characteristics displayed themselves in the form of child like awe. The likes of which he could currently see glinting in the reptiles usual soulless black eyes."I see hundreds of worlds cast to the edge of this galaxy. Bent by destiny to make life in the harshest of circumstances. Enslaved, oppressed, occupied, and infested by plague. I see these worlds in need of aid and most of all I see them striving for independence."

[*"Is that what you will say to them?"]

"No. It is what we will show them. Those who accept will follow us. Those who do not will be made to see their only hope is to accept our help. Speaking of which, how are the foundries coming along?"

[*"The Colicoids on Colla IV have began production but progress is slow under the Empire's presence. Once the campaign begins their attention should be taken off such a trivial planet. The manufacturing plants on Hypori and Diado are still being restored. The Diado factories were left in a heavily damaged state but reconstruction should be completed before the end of this month. The Hypori rebuilding efforts have progressed nicely with the help of the geonosian's but actual production lines will take another week at best.

Once the Empire realizes what has happened they will attempt to strike back. Beyond the front lines our forces will be spread thin. Until the clones and droid factories are ready for deployment we must take these next momentous steps carefully." ]

"Do not mistake my fervor for blind zealotry. I know what is at stake and I will be there to make sure Gods will is found in the battles to come." Tear's voice had become harsh under his brothers cautious tone. A look of rare apology, shined in Tears molten eyes, but he knew there was no need. Naberius, as ever, was a protector. It would his duty to sound caution weather it was wanted or not.

[*They wait for you."] Naberius stared into the crowded assembly. Where the marching had halted just moments prior. Thousands now stood waiting for a motion of approval from their beloved leader. A readying nod from Tear and Naberius activated a small microphone that would be transmitted world wide and up in the farthest reaches of orbit for all to hear.

"My people, sons and daughters of Thule. For many years you have been a suffering collection. Oppressed by those forcing their own wars across the planets you called home. Enslaved to fight and die in someone else's war! And if you were lucky, they would leave you merely a broken people."

Tears arms raised high, reaching toward the sky. The thundering lightning that rumbled over the mountains in the distance stopped. The boiling clouds suddenly changing direction like an out of control freight train.

"But now, baptized by ash and ruin you have come out stronger for it. In the three years you have gifted upon me I have rebuilt what was destroyed. I have shown you pride. I have shown you strength through survival. I have given you a new history to be written!"

Over the city the black clouds stormed. Causing towering skyscraper and the most modest civilian alike to tremble under its billowing force. The Inquisitor himself shook, his hands curling into claws, carving into the very clouds that approached the massive court yard.

"On this day we will act as one, united to release our furious vengeance. This galaxy will not be able to ignore us any longer! This is our time to be written with blood! This is our day marked by the ash of our destroyed foes!"

At once the soldiers erupted into a roaring cheer. Raising rifle and fist alike. On queue Tear ripped his tightened fists from the sky finally allowing the black clouds to release its pent up energy. Surging bolts of lightening ripped across the skies in great arcs brightening the world beneath. The spectacle was even visible from orbit looking like a great battle was being waged beneath the cover of raven covered clouds. A shower of rain followed, pouring onto all those who had gathered to listen beneath the sky. Still they cheered, even as Tear turned his back and retreated away from the balcony. They continued to cheer.


Note
applies to speech translated from trandoshan.

[Tear]

Minutes after Tear's speech.

The storms inky clouds continued to swell across the canvas of cityscape. The courtyard beneath the colossal obsidian fortress now lay bare and muddied. Its parading soldiers having flooded into their waiting transport carriers. Inside the men and women shivered, their soaked dress uniforms set tight with the locking of restraints.

Private first class Lordstrum eyed the carriers slowly closing loading doors. The heavy metal was surprisingly quiet, freshly oiled, barely noticeable over the hum of the ships engines warming up. Across from him was another private, just like the fifty others seated in rows with their weapons held like consoling lovers. He had expected, like everyone else, to have butterflies floating about his insides. To be trading glances of nervous anticipation when the ship swayed during lift off and blasted forward into heavens. Instead he found only pride and sharp confidence in their eyes.

From every windowed room across the city of Hurom the temple, made from a fortress, could be seen at it's center. And through those very same windows, eyes just like Private Lordstrums gazed out with child like awe to the source of hope that had hinged itself to the people of Thules future. A future held in the quivering palm of man who sat upon a black throne in the depths of the temple at Hurom's center.

"Hera." Soft beads of crimson spilled over Tears bottom lip with the whispered name. The Inquisitor struggled to sit up from his slouched position, his form looking slightly miniature in comparison to the massive slab of engraved obsidian at his back. In high orbit his holo image flickered with a burst of static caused by a solar flare from Thurra, Thule's sun. It was then Hera realized this transmission was live and not an actual message that had been left.

"The fleet has finished it's preparations." The Grand Inquisitor gave his chin a sluggish wipe, smearing the red across his cheek, in an almost drunken fashion. "You and I will have some ti-erghh..."

Tear's once hunched form seized stiffly, his knuckles whitening with tightened fists, the Inquisitors head snapping back as if to try and contain his spines attempt to crawl out of his body. From the darkness of the holo transmission a massive robed form, which could only belong to the one known as Naberius, slid in front of the Inquisitor. A glimmer of white in the shape of a syringe flipped into the open from the reptiles robes then disappeared again. A moment passed.

Naberius turned to face the holo projection of Hera. Behind him Tears body was once again slouching back calmly. "The speech has made our Lord weary. He needs his rest. You will wait in orbit for his arrival."

Hera moved to speak but the holo transmission was cut.

"Brother." Naberius turned back to Tear, who's catatonic eyes were gazing upwards toward the elaborately painted dome ceiling. "Why haven't you slain that witch. She is poison."

Tear's chest rose and fell calmly. A moment of still silence past. The soft hush of the Inquisitor's breathing the only discernible sound to be heard. His eyes rolled down, not in a fluid motion but more like a cog in a gear, stopping only once Naberius's reptilian face filled his view. "Don't concern yourself with the poisons I choose to infect my body with. Just help me up."

***

An hour later on board the Star Destroyer Glory.

"I expected you to be prowling the ship. Inflicting fear into those that dare commit typos." Tear entered Hera's quarters with Naberius in short tow (as always) and immediately began glancing about the room with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. The Sith witch had collected several tomes from the Inquisitors crusading and had suitably begun 'nesting' as women tended to do in their quarters. It looked a mess.

[Hera]

"You, of course, may roam the ship as suits you Tear - it is afterall, yours" Hera greeted sourly, "My quarters included, but you can leave that ugly parasite outside the door"

Though she addressed the Inquisitor, her eyes pinned Naberius with a baleful glare. Her animosity toward Tear's reptiillian lackey was growing with every interaction between them and she felt no compunction about expressing it.

Tear plucked up a garment that had been carelessly tossed across the back of a chair and let the sheer fabric slip fluidly through his fingers to fall again to its place, "Hm. You should keep this place neater, Hera. There is no call for untidiness." He stepped further into the room, running an appraising eye over the general surroundings, his tone remaining conversational yet clearly brooking no argument, "He stays"

Naberius pulled thin lips back in a ricktus grin, his slit eyes following only on his Master and ignoring Hera completely.

"Stay there, dog" Hera commanded the Trandoshan irritably and crossed the floor to come up beside Tear.

"We need to talk"

She activated the holovid disc and the image of Tear slouching and drooling in his chair from Thule appeared in green candescant light.

"You are too wreckless with your power" she hissed beside him. "Your body pays too steep a price...and then you let that viper shoot you full of venom. Look at yourself" she said with distaste, "Look what he brings you too."

[Tear]

Tears lips tightened, catching the irritable sigh that tried to sneak through, just enough to avoid displaying himself like some child brimming on the edge of a temper tantrum. He wanted, by instinct alone to silence her admonition, but he couldn't. Things were different now. Tear had spun the planets in this corner of the galaxy into a frenzied rage, they yearned to avenge, to seek retribution, to hurt those that have caused their families so much strife and pain. Tear could feel it, the anger from each individual bouncing and building off their neighbors, gathering like blood through a swelling heart, that would eventually be squeezed sending hate coursing into the galaxy. He reveled and bathed in it, even fed off it as if it was some succulent nectar. It empowered him and mixed with the knowledge he was gleaning from Hera there was no limit, save for that of his failing flesh.

Tear clenched a fist and the room quaked in response. The holovid disc sparked weakly before crumbling into a jagged compact little ball. Causing his weakened image to dissolve within a blink.

"My power is, by its very nature, reckless." He said, doing his best to dismiss her. "This flesh, merely the petty sacrifice that can be offered in trade."

"And that Viper, to which you refer so repulsively, has..." Tear's words faltered in his throat. The bile of kindness that was about to pass from his lips tasted so strange it gave him pause. "...No need to prove his loyalty. I consider him a brother and you will treat him with the respect he deserves."

"He deserves to be fed crickets in the zoo." Hera retorted. Her flawless sarcasm ever present.

Naberius let loose a deep growl and took a thumping step forward which was quickly halted by a single finger from Tear.

"Or at least tolerate each other."

[Hera]

"Brother?" The word mocked as Hera looked at Naberius "...That?"
She sneered before turning back toward Tear and stepping beside him.

"Some bonds hold closer than the familial" she said for Tear's ears alone. She ran deft fingers down his left forearm, the recent scar there tingled as she tantalized the inflamed flesh, emphasizing her point.

"You know what happened on Diado has changed everything between us." This she said louder and cast a smug glance Naberius's way, goading him over Tear's shoulder before lowering her eyes and voice once again.

She pressed against the Grand Inquisitor, the heat of her body alive and vibrant in contrast to the cold calculation of her words, "You dont need him any more. I can stop the torrents that sweep you away and threaten to destroy you. Est deus in nobis." Tear recognised the latin words readily and recalled their meaning - 'there is a god inside us.' Hera had indeed been availing herself of his pilfered tomes and she had applied the old tongue to what she envisioned they could accomplish together.

So now it was "them" "we" "us" Tear realised and started to laugh.

Hera stiffened and hardened her demeanor. "I'll tolerate the hired help if that pleases you Tear, but keep him down wind from me, his stench is rancid"

Throwing herself fluidly into a large chair, the Sith feigned boredom. "So what do you want to tell me that you had to get all juiced up just to be able to articulate it in person? Did your little stage show and fancy speeches wow the crowds of the conquered masses?"

[Tear]

Tear wanted to pull away, to flinch in disgust at her slightest touch but he couldn't, and she knew it. Hera's sharp blue eyes, steadied on his, it wasn't a look of passion or even of hate. She was assessing him, trying to gauge weather or not her hooks had dug deep enough, how tight could she pull without giving away just how truly caught he had become. Her nimble fingers traveled down the symbols she had engraved into the flesh of his forearm, tracing them. The markings were still swollen and agitated, raised like some twisted version of braille, but beneath the soothing dance of her finger tips it had all vanished. Even the static buzz that clouded the Grand Inquisitors thoughts, after using the drug that kept his affliction at bay, had dissipated with her touch.


"You know what happened on Diado has changed everything between us." Her enticing body slid snugly against him and his mind went numb. Flashing back to the events where the icy planet of Diado had nearly claimed him. She had coerced the cold from his blackened limbs, baited away the icy fingers of death with the warmth of her own body, even the elements couldn't resist her.

Then she pulled away, leaving him with his arm still held aloft and stiff, like a spice junkie after a fix. Naberius hadn't noticed it at first but the Inquisitors wilting body language quickly spilled the secret. It was the reptiles savage growl that woke Tear from his induced trance and back to the present. The Inquisitor instinctively summoned what quick witted cruelty he could to shield himself from Hera's subtle onslaught, so he laughed at her.

It worked. She took the lure and shot back with that familiar venomous tongue of hers. With her attention thrown off, Tear managed to turn away, releasing the look of confusion that had been building behind his face.


"So what do you want to tell me that you had to get all juiced up just to be able to articulate it in person? Did your little stage show and fancy speeches wow the crowds of the conquered masses?"

The Inquisitor leaned over a nearby table, playing off feigned interest in several open tomes, when he was actually bracing his body against it for support. "It served its purpose and they aren't conquered, not anymore."

His mind and body were finally beginning to settle from the after shocks of whatever it was she had done. Was she mending him again? Pulling the poison from his veins like she had with the cold back on Diado? Or was this her corrupting magic that Naberius had warned so strongly against?

"I'm sending you away." Need time focus. Find answers. "You will take a task force to Korriban to secure the planet and its sector." Stem her infection before it spreads.

[Hera]

"What?"

Hera bolted upright in her chair, all pretense of blaise` disinterest evaporating at this unexpected turn.

"No. I refuse" she said, glaring first at the Inquisitor, then at Naberius who snickered from where he stood, his forked tongue sliping coarsely in and out of his thin mouth.

Hera bristled as she rose to stand before Tear who's bowed head and dispassionately averted eyes only added to the insult that he understood the ramifications, and cared less, that she was to be sent off like a wayward child sent to boarding school - the removal of an inconvenience - where she would be out of sight and out of mind. And out of the fricken way for the filthy Trandoshan to slither his scaley, ingratiating self further into Tear's favor. The idea rankled her to bitterness.

"You need me here" she seethed in a constrained voice, threat lacing just beneath the anger, "You know you do"

[Tear]

"Maybe." It was an honest answer. One that had troubled the Inquisitor greatly since his return from Diado.

Tear was no stranger to dependency on substances. It was a weakness, one that he had bore throughout most of his life but it was a weakness he could manage. But placing your weakness in the hands of a person, to be dependent on them? That concept bothered the Inquisitor. Chemicals were indifferent. They have no ulterior motive, no secret agenda, one couldn't offend a vial of liquid and worry if that moment would come back to for vengeance in a time of desperation.

Although they were without the ability to plot or revenge. The serums he used were not without a cost. There were several assortments, each with their own effect and their own side effects. But their effects were a certainty. Something weighed and determined. Tear knew what the end result of using would be and he could prepare, but with Hera, he could not. She was a woman slighted, abused, and tortured. Putting her in a position of power over himself was a very dangerous prospect. It would change the rules of the game.

"But you know where I am headed. I'm to seek battle and you, despite your returning abilities, are rusty." Tear waved his hand dismissively at the notion she couldn't handle herself in a fight. She would see past the weak reasoning anyway.

"I know you'll find interest in Korriban. These relics that litter your room give hint to it nearly every second page. It's an old world of the Sith, a tomb planet. Surely you must have some interest?"

[Hera]

"None" she answered coldly, "Not the slightest interest, whatever"

It was a lie, of course. Korriban was the holy of holies, the cradle of the Sith and nurturer of her Darklords - its tombs, its history, its very essence - the life and breath of the darkside who's mysteries and secrets had raised unto itself the purveyors of wickedness and evil through the ages. It empowered and inspired those seekers and, in time, consumed some of them into its dusty embrace where they lay in silent granite palaces waiting to impart their evil to others who were worthy. It was a Mecca where many sought enlightenment and strength, who sought knowledge and revelation and resources to access their greater potential and darkest power. And Hera, like other such Sith, was no different in her desire for such things.

Tear knew it would be impossible for her to resist. He also knew she would comprehend his real reasons for the timing of the proposed mission, but persisted in his attempt to obfuscate his true agenda rather than admit to her that she now held some leverage over him. The shift in power did not sit well with him.

"It is a great opportunity for you, Hera" he said, adding generously, "And its a great trust Im showing you. Consider it my gift for your recent loyalty to me.."

Hera looked long and hard into Tear's eyes - twin orbs of blazing orange set unreadable against the canvas of the half-smile on his face - and she set a resolve within herself. She stepped forward, closing the distance completely between herself and Tear, drawing, in that one small action, all the energy and sound from the room to encompass only them. Tear knew Naberious was still standing where he was - the Trandoshan would willingly be flayed alive and disembowelled where he stood before dismissing himself from Tear's service without permission - yet it was only that surety of his friends steadfastnesss that the Inquisitor knew Naberious was there at all, so total had Hera arrested all his senses.

"You made a promise to me" she said softly, her fingers affectionately tracing the line of his jaw. "On Diado, remember?" She saw, by the contraction of his pupils into small pinpricks of black, that he remembered well enough. "I'll have that promise made good before I leave, dear Tear" she continued fluidly and he could hear the in and out of his own labored breath loud in his ears, he could feel the pressure of her solid form pressing alarmingly against his own. She kissed him then, her lips a silky tenderness underscored by an imposing will. She drew slowly away from him and smiled cat-like, leaning up to whisper her assurance of obedience in his ear, "I will go to Korriban and do all you say, Tear - once you've made good on your word."

[Tear]

The sound of Hera's voice was haunting against the rushing pulse in his ear drums. His eye lids were sunk low, like a junkie in the throes of euphoria after a hit. The room itself had darkened, as if a large paint brush filled with ink had swept across it, leaving thick shadows dripping from every corner and sharp edge. Tear stood blind, his hands had reached to Hera's hips, more out of instinct then an embrace, something to hold him steady in the dark. Her blonde hair a sharp contrast of gold in a dark world. It brushed like silk against his cheek when she whispered into his ear.

"I remember." Tear whispered back, lips moving with a voice not entirely his own. He sounded strangely distant like a lover, speaking in their sleep. The mention of Diado pulled at the former Inquisitors memory, the ice, the blood, the water. The burn, a marking she had carved into his very flesh. Both claiming and saving him at once. He remembered it all. The searing image of her work, made him flinch sharply away from their embrace.

Awakened, Tear took a deep breath as he focused on Hera. The clarity in his golden eyes quickly returning to focus. "I remember where I grew up there was a flower. It blossomed only in winter. Extremely rare to find as they rarely broke the surface of the snow. But if one did break the surface, you could see it's pink pedals contrasting against the milky snow dunes from miles away. It was the sweetest smelling flower on Iridonia."

The former Inquisitor mimed a flower between his fingers, bringing it across his nose as if to smell it. "It was also the most deadly. If you smelled the flower it likely meant you had inhaled its spores into your lungs. There it would spread. Infecting your entire body. Months could pass. Sometimes years. Then eventually, when it was ready, it would fester and grow. Spearing out from it's hosts lungs and through their vascular system. Lucky ones died from suffocation." He winked, " The flower would then use it's dead hosts nutrients to blossom again."

Tear reached out delicately cupping Hera chin. His thumb curiously tracing the pink of her bottom lip. "I've seen you blossom against a canvas of ivory."

[Hera]

He was waxing poetic now? Good grief.
The analogy was not wasted on the blonde sith. She understood he was calling her poison, toxic. Deadly. It was his way of being cute. But Hera knew the exact same example could be used for him. "Right back atchya" she said, rankled.

Tear didn't fully understand why Hera was so irritated. He had been indebted to her on Diado, not the other way round. He had no idea she was so vunerable to him and how that fact disquieted her. She shook off his touch.

"Just keep your promise, Inquisitor" - she always resorted to the Imperial moniker when she got in these moods, he noticed. "Make me your wife, and make it official."

Behind them, Naberius hissed.

She stiffened her back determinedly, a glint of menace in her blue eyes "And make it soon" she said, sliding a spiteful look toward Tear's faithful dog.

[Tear]

"Enough." Tear's golden eyes disappeared beneath closed eyelids. His broad shoulders rising with a deep breath, then after a pause, relaxing with a very audible sigh. "I am about to wage a war of galactic proportions. To hold the fates of billions in my hands."

Tear's hands clenched theatrically at the stars outside Hera's viewport sending a rumble throughout the room.

"To carve this reality into something I deem fit for survival." The former Inquisitors fingers relaxed letting the quaking room ebb to silence once again. "...And the woman still wants her white wedding."

Hera's scorched eye line to Naberius was quickly shifted to a new target. Her cheeks puffing in irritation as her lips moved to form words, "You Fu-"

Tear waved a hand dismissively cutting her off. He turned away from her making a quick, but hopefully not too obvious, retreat to the doorway.

"Fear not honey, you will get your ceremony. In the meantime you have your orders."

Naberius inclined his head respectfully as his brother Inquisitor stalked from the room and out into the hall. The colossal reptile lingered a moment longer in the door way before tossing a data pad of the mission objectives to the Sith witches feet. The reptile couldn't smile. His facial muscles weren't able but Hera didn't need to see the glint of teeth. A simple snide slither of his tongue was enough. Then he too was gone and Hera was left to contemplate the frustrating state of deja vu, she once again, found herself in.

[Hera]

Long moments after Tear and his faithful Toad left, Hera watched the empty doorframe, her stare vacant and her mind light years from the present.

Her white wedding...She scoffed at the imagery almost as much as Tear had. A wedding ceremony is a farce, an empty ritual that fools perform as something important and cling to as meaningful and bonding. It is pathetic in its fragility, offering the promise of false hope only to have life and its hardships rip it all to shreds like a cheap table napkin. The perpertrators of such a ceremony and its indulgent, witless participants were deceivers of the worst kind - deluders of those they purport to love with words of committment and devotion and, worse, liars to their own selves - convincing themselves that things vowed can actually be fulfilled by themselves, and by others.

However, the brazen delusions of the wedding ceremony aside, there is a distinct quality to it that Hera realises has great value. And, apparently, so did Tear - that perhaps would explain his jelly-spined delay of it.

Such a ceremony was a public announcement, a Statement not to be given lightly. It would be an open declaration of Tear's dedication to her, and hers' to him. It would, in that one lilly-scented, lace ruffled act achieve the one thing she alone could not, regardless of her Dark power and despite any clever political maneuvering she may do. Her marriage to Tear, no matter how distasteful the concept, would change her status in a way nothing else could.

It didn't matter that she was no longer a prisoner of the Imperials. Neither that she was a willing ally in Tear's grand schemes. It wasn't enough that Hera had been granted her freedom, or that she had been put in charge of a large task force and given the mandate of establishing Tear's authority on Korriban. It was not enough that she was to be regarded by his subordinates as his close advisor and helper because, despite all this, it was still too easy for them to dismiss her as his latest indulgence or their Master's pet. It was too easy for them to view her with contempt while they regarded her as a passing diversion for their dedicated Commander who will one day tire of her attractions and move on to something else. A mistress, or so they may think, is dispensible. A wife, however, not quite so much. Hera wished to solidify her standing among Tear's men and she could not do it in such a temporary role as the 'boss's latest curiosity'. Hera was determined - her white, black or purple wedding (she didn't give a frack as to the colour) would take place and Naberius will be their ring bearer.

The thought brought a dark smile to the Sith's lips and her gaze, only then, dropped down to the data disk resting on the floor at her feet.

Naberius will be their ringbearer, she thought taking up the disk with slender fingers, and he will bear it to them wearing chains.