Chapter X - Vengeance

VC Deception - Vengeance



Gone were hope, life, companionship, family, love… and resistance.

    Val stared up at the hauntingly defaced image of Gen’s slashed portrait, his mind buzzed with the events that happened only hours ago. It was then he held his sister close, teased Corrie, and swapped sarcastic words with his trusty droid Sacul 456. Then in a fraction of a second, in a blink of an eye…they came.

The Killian forces came in force, though led first by their now slain figurehead Crymson Vachon. They had completed their assigned task despite the overwhelming number of droids lost in the massive battle for control of the Versai Mansion; they conquered and left a bloody trail in their wake before leaving…

Leaving him stunned, unconscious, and the curse of Isis being stabbed over and over again.

Val was a strong willed individual, he was a tough fighter as his late duel with the only woman who could defeat him had revealed…revealed he was the better fighter, the better man. But with all this gained reputation of the price he paid for his final vindication upon the halved and dead Crymson Vachon he lost his sister Sara Isis Surul in the process…

Val had now left the confines of his severely damaged Hanger Bay. He left the memory of the damaged piles of droids around him, the blood on the floor, the burned interiors of his once glamorously decorated estate. Now he had placed himself in the very room he forbid Corrie to enter. Imperious the girl was and eventually she did have her way and he relented, for this chamber…a place in the entire mansion known as the “Chamber of Remembrance” was the secret to his past.

Val had placed the damaged picture of his lover Gen Zeridian and the bloody message before him as he knelt down in thought before it on his knees. He was in total shock as one would be from a tragic death…but unlike the loss of a parent or a close relative that you’ve known for years, Isis’s apparent passing was sudden; it came too fast for Val to cope with. For many years he believed he was the only one, the only blood relative of the Versai Family bloodline.

Recent events revealed that he was no longer alone…but as his struggle with “The Curse” would prove, he was powerless to stop fate from claiming those he loved once again…each time he lost a life, each time he had to say goodbye a part of Val’s faith died.

Val’s deep brown eyes slowly craned up towards the writing, his eyes still filled with tears, where lines of dried salt had bled down his cheeks. What was he to do? Val had lost everything as quickly as he had gained it…upon Alpha Xeridia among the smoldering fires and decapitated, decimated battle droids and useless relics that were TIE Crawlers and YT transports, there was no one.

He was alone…

Many thoughts blazed through his head, images painted themselves upon the walls of the chamber. For surrounding he were his many uniforms from his past, each having been retired and upgraded to match the times in need of their use. Along with the uniforms, the Versai Crest evolved. Val’s eyes shifted down to his torn, blood stained glove gazing to the center medallion of his Versai Crest etched into the padding.

Each time he gazed upon the ring of gold, his mind repeated the image of those who bared his symbol of protection and ultimately those who fell by it. Sara’s deep green eyes smiled towards him, shortly before being wiped to the scream expelling from her lungs, the deadly blade of Duelist 8D8 piercing her flesh, clear on through her twitching body, caught off guard and sudden…she nor Val could see it coming nor stop it.
Anger gripped Val’s soul now, revenge…hatred. Hatred towards Quillion for his sick games; his assassination attempts and his carnal mind games. Val was tired now, his breathing was slow and refined but his blood rushed through his veins like a river, raging towards the apex of a waterfall. Much like the twin waterfalls that lay behind his prized mansion, Val’s thoughts moved in liquid gyrations.

His emotions were mixed now, between what is sensible and noble, to what is in his mind justice and fairness. He knew that to go on a rampage was a Sith trait, hatred was the seed of evil and yet with nothing left to lose…and nothing left to prove, Val saw little choice but to let the feeling flow through him.

Val slowly stood from the floor and paced over to a display case behind him. Inside were artifacts not seen by Corrie nor seen by anyone but himself, with the exception of Cire T’Negun and Foe Raker. It was “The Curse” that haunted the Versai Family since before even his birth, the entity could not be explained nor personified it simply was…what it shaped itself to be.

It had turned his father from the path of the Jedi…

It had caused Krevlin to be consumed with enough jealousy and hatred to wipe out the innocent…

It had caused Cire T’Negun to cross the line and brutally slay Gen Zeridian in front of Val’s eyes…

Now it seems it had caused Sacul to lie in pieces…

Caused Isis to be torn from her brother’s grasp, gone to soon…to fast…to sudden.

The Curse. That was the cause of Val’s consistent torment.

It was the instrument that both forged his character but robbed him of a stable life, of love, of companionship. Val’s fingers traced over the transparasteel box below him as he slowly brushed his tears away and removed the lid.

Inside the box was a red-velvet lining that contained two gold rings. One was wrapped in purple stones, while the other was simply a plain gold band with runic like letters written across it. The two rings when put together formed a message, both having been designed to be worth by two bearers, neither complete without the other.

Slowly Val’s blood stained fingers cradled the rings in his palm, he pacing back towards a chair glancing to the two rings with narrowed, thought-filled eyes. As he looked over the two rings, tracing the contours of each stone, each engraved runic letter, each delicate rise and fall of the shimmering gold material his mind blanked…totally clear was the images of Isis’s death, Sacul’s condition, Quillion, Versai Tech, Quillion…

Val’s weary body ached from head to toe as he rested inside the chair, leaning against the plush backing. His eyes now stared blankly into the picture of Gen, while his fingers traced and cradled the rings in his palm, speaking softly to himself

“Eternal love…forever bound.”

VAL – (thinking to himself) Its so hard to be without you…without any of you, but most of all my love its so hard to fight it anymore…I loved you Gen. The night of passion we shared in the privacy of your quarters was truly spellbinding and later…I wanted to show you just how much you meant to me…

Val’s eyes glanced down towards the rings

VAL – I worked endlessly to forge these for you in secret…scoured the regions of Endor for the perfect gems…for your ring my love…the ring I placed upon your finger that read, “Eternal Love”.

Val’s eyes slowly blink as he speaks to himself in the darkness of the chamber, his eyes filling with tears that stream freely, but remain dazed and glazed over as if in a trance.

VAL – It was then Gen, then in the forest that you and I kissed…long and passionate I enjoyed every moment of our union, our bodies united through our lips…then I slipped this ring on your finger, and you…you slipped this one on my own.

Val glances towards the second ring, which was inscribed in runic letters, “Forever Bound”

VAL – (cries) And then it was…was I who had…had to remove it, remove it from your cold, lifeless form…on my own finger I reunited it with my own, glaring to Cire…to that murdering bastard! With the rings I struck him down, your loss my fuel for the fire that consumed him…

VAL – If I had one wish…only one complete desire, it would be to hold you in my arms again and lead the life we both deserved…as one.

Val’s fingers slide along the rings, linking them together, the message now completed as each ring matched the other perfectly as one unit.

“Eternal love…forever bound.”

Gen, Gen Zeridian was the love that Valaryc had bound himself to for over 25 years since their first encounter…she was his first and only lover. With the rings he gained his focus in the room glancing over the linked bands as images of Isis, Corrie, and Sacul spilled through his memory once more…and behind it all a figure draped in black, faceless…but not nameless.

Val didn’t know what Quillion actually looked like, he knew he wore a mask from Isis’s descriptions, he knew the essence of his vindicator and that was all Val needed to maintain his new found branch of concentration…hatred.

Val was not above hatred, rage, anger…he had felt its grip before but never as strong as he felt within him now, raging…clawing to escape, clawing to unleash his skilled fury upon The Killian, upon Quillion upon any who would oppose him. It came time for Val to choose which path he would pursue, whether it would be patience and understanding or vindication and retribution.

Val’s fingers rolled the rings in his palm, clenching them tight within his fist as his fingers curled into a tight fisted ball and began to glow with a crimson red radiance.

Anger, hatred…pain, suffering were the keys to Val’s submission and the time drew ever so closer with each passing moment for Val to decide which road he would follow to his destiny, for with his leadership in the Rebel Alliance a thing of the past, and all he knew aside from Lance upholding his Versai Tech company he was utterly alone…and this lonely nature, this isolation is what burned him the most.

He had his family…and he lost them…

It wasn’t solely “The Curse” that took them from his arms and his embrace it was Quillion. Val had grown tired of the games, of the torment and Quillion knew this, it was his intention to push Val to the edge and beyond…to place Val in a fit of rage so feral, so volatile that Val would give up his honor and kill, murder, and hack his way to his domains.

Val’s skill was unmatched, never before had he released its full fury upon anyone but Crymson Vachon. She now lay in pieces against the exterior of the Versai Mansion the only evidence of her living was the trail of bloodstains that led off the roof, down along the windows and to the ground below.

Val’s fingers slowly slide open a compartment in his belt, dropping the rings inside it before snapping the unit shut. His eyes no longer bore tears but a gaze of pure concentrated thought…no more pain, no more suffering, no more decisions were left to be made now. It was his loss that brought down all who opposed him, who brought him pain…Krevlin, Efface, Cire, Crymson…they fell to his skill, it was now pain that he wished others to feel…tired of being inflicted with the suffering of loss and the sting of death…
Val made his choice, stepping towards a bookshelf. His eyes were no longer dazed or off-kilter, for it could be read within his emotionless facial features that he had now moved beyond the stage of grief, the stage of shock, of pain, of torment. No, riddled inside his mind now was preparation, preparation for the battle that was to come, he didn’t know how exactly he would do it but he didn’t care anymore.

It was fate that led The Killian to his mansion, to his corporation, and to his loved ones…he trusted that if fate wanted to screw with him any longer, then he would defy his destiny as he told Lance, never give up and never surrender


Solutions do not always present themselves in the positive regard. Val wasn’t planning on waiting for Quillion to come get him when he pleased…no, no, no.

Val didn’t want to wait anymore; he had nothing left to look forward to with Isis, Corrie, Sacul, and the rest of his fellow companions torn from his side so he made his own new purpose as he had done with his brilliant scheme to topple Krevlin’s power in his own office.

Perhaps Krevlin was alive, perhaps he was dead…Val didn’t care anymore, sliding his fingers along the book called “Red Destiny” as a switch behind the case slid back leading to yet another flight of stairs beyond the ones Corrie had traveled, spiraling into darkness.

His mind was set now, his path chosen and revealed…as a twinkle from the opened Versai Locket sparkled in crimson hues as his reflection passed by it, the family portrait of his mother, his father, and his sister reflecting upon the subtle lights, exposed as if watching Val’s chosen path unfold…silence voices but open eyes…the windows to their soul transfixing on the transformation their son or their brother was undergoing from pain and suffering…a new creature of hatred, and bloodlust clawed its way out of Val’s psyche, exposing itself to the light…

A drop of blood slowly oozed down the surface of the protected photo and a new oath, a new vow sealed in his blood was forged…

Without love…the love of Gen Zeridian by his side

Without compassion…the compassion of Isis, the comfort of Sacul 456

Left only….


VC Deception – Chapter X - Vengeance

(NOTE : Contains violent've been warned.)


Val’s steps were slow and well thought, each boot sliding along the surface of the floor seemed to glide into slow motion as Val stepped forth into his “Firehouse”, his nickname for the massive weapons storage facility he kept hidden from prying eyes and children’s hands. Within this circular structure were towers rising from the floor at his command, each baring a particular type of weapon for his purposes but as Val passed each rising column of a deep cobalt blue, polished metal his attention was not upon his ammunition at the moment but a shimmering prototype costume he had begun work on years ago, but after losing faith in society had let sit and gather dust…

The attire was highly evolved from his current outfit, baring the latest high tech fabrications and defense mechanisms. The new attire was composed of the following:

The Breastplate
VTEA 2000
(Versai Tech Experimental Alloy)

The armored breastplate was created with a plastoid substance similar to that used in the manufacturing of storm trooper armor, but over ten times more blaster resistant, the armored shell which was flat black in color could withstand the impact of a DL-44 blaster and even if necessary, though the impact would cause damage to its bearer underneath it, a blast from the cannons of droidekas robots as well. In his design stages Val remembered the heavy damage and the pain he felt from his encounter with droidekas droids, after training endlessly in the Powerhouse, he knew how to deal with them and what their general attack strategies were…he was prepared for them. Stemming from the curved chest cavity of the breast plate were five fluted sections of blast dampening fabric, not cloth but a rubber like substance able to discharge the static impact of blasters and dissipate away the heat caused by them, turning a impact into nothing more then the effect of being painted with a laser pointer.

Upon the breastplate was also a blaster reflective material similar to that of Luxor Armor but far thinner and would after sustaining enough damage wear out, but the added protection, should any heavier blaster bolts get through the dampening alloy, would offer limited protection against serious injury.

The Shoulder and Arm Guards
(Sonic Scrambler Units)

Set upon a black body glove suit (explained later) were symbolic representations of Isis’s costume, the raised, rounded pads separated by a durable shiny silver metal were designed to draw in the signal of any known scanning device to date and by doing so mask the wearer from detection, however motion sensors were another matter, but infrared, bio-scans, and DNA detectors were blinded by the counter signal exuded from devices embedded deep under the padding, as sleek as it is stylish, these devices were also quite effective. The lower arm bands were extra protection from attack, and contained the same elements found in a Scout Trooper’s armor designs, also made of a different material which exuded the same properties in texture and likeness but bared silver embossing where the armor pieces coupled together.

For Val it wasn’t as much protection as it was symbolic of his service in the Imperial Training Academy and his duty to the Scout Trooper Unit upon which he was found, and raised by his adopted father Jonathan Winters, later found murdered.

The shoulder pattern now served as a deeper meaning, for the same exact devices were on Isis Surul’s attire before she was slain. By donning the same portions of her costume upon his own, it served as a consistent reminder to Val that he was tired of The Curse, tired of the pain and to whomever dared cross him, Isis’s death would not go unpunished.

The Wrist Guards

The wrist guards were the exact purpose as his current “Deception” attire but were not made with the same color scheme, instead they had silver rims with the black pads, and the fastening wrist units were a darker, deeper red. Another symbolic representation that Val believed in something old, and something new…and that as he believed the more things change, the more they stay the same. It was a subtle display of irony to those who were intelligent enough to detect it.

The Belt

The new attire’s belt was the same exact design as Val’s current choice of style right down to the same buckle design, but with more upgraded technology, such as expanded compartment abilities which were now black instead of white, stored precious items of interest, was lighter in weight, and most importantly it featured scanning and detection devices that could tell him far in advance if someone were trying to sneak up upon him by flickering a series of sky blue lights along his hips which when activated would emit from the bottom and travel upwards in a set pattern, growing faster in speed as the intruders presence drew nearer. Also upon the belt were two lightsaber clips, riveted into place, another take on the older generations of the same crude but effective bent “U” hooks that held a lightsaber by its “D” ring properly in place, a slight modification allowed Val to push a lever down and lock his sabers into place, so that in a flip or if he were turned upside down, his lightsabers would not slip from their holdings and disappear from his side, a vast improvement over the older clips which failed to secure the weapon in 360 degrees of rotation.

Along the back of the belt was the biggest improvement, not previously seen on Val’s signature attire, usually fastened along his thigh, Val now had two holsters for his pistols placed upon the back of his belt, built into the strap so they could not move nor tear from it. Magnetic devices in the very ends of the holsters, where the barrel of the guns would face, held the pistols in place until a substantial, but not over baring amount of pressure was placed upon the miniature magnetic fields, making the hold release in a fraction of a second, freeing the pistols from the holsters which had no straps over the handgrips of the pistols themselves, magnetic force kept them secure in the holsters until needed, another way that Val could display his agile skills and not lose his weapons in a flip, or if he were overturned.

Minutely placed alongside the holsters were easily accessible clips for his “Deacon” flechette pistols, each clip containing ten cartridges of flechette ammunition. In which there were four slots to place the clips giving Val extra storage for his ammunition, not already placed inside his belt’s containment units.

With ten rounds per clip and the rounds more specialized they standard ballistics or blaster beams, each round when fired had a one second delay before tiny flaps shucked the shell casing of the projectile, releasing approximately 100 flechettes. Each flechette was a slender piece of metal, like a miniature stiletto and when it reached its target would pierce through most standard armor like paper passing through bone, skin, organs, and anything else that obstructed their propelled path with ease. When you take into account that just one of these can do this much damage to a target, you can understand how in many cases a flechette pistol is more effective then a blaster.

Twin VTA 5 “Deacon” Flechette Pistols
(Versai Technologies Ammunitions – Series 5)

With Val’s new armor, new attire, and new color schemes also came new “toys”. Val’s newly introduced Flechette pistols into a galaxy that had long forgotten about the effectiveness of projectile weapons was staggering to those who met a violent and painful end from their destructive power. One could rely on a blaster bolt being absorbed, or deflected but a hail of flechettes proved quite a challenge to avoid, even to the most skilled of Force Users, deflecting and controlling a hundred individual elements wore out those who attempted to change the direction of their paths when unleashed. Lasers could be deflected, absorbed, redirected but flechettes were rarely moved once they were aimed, the only thing a subject could do was hope to remove themselves from the storm of metallic agony that streaked towards them.

Val saw these weapons at one time to be used only in case of an extreme emergency as leaving even an assassin writhing in pain did not match his style. That was then though, now with anger fueling his reason all Val wanted to do was end the battles before they began, tired of endless lightsaber duels and tiring negotiation tactics…the twin pistols were now exactly his style…

Swift…and deadly…

The guns themselves were a wondrous work of art. Each exuded Val’s signature golden metallic style along the recoil units, the top sections of the pistols that ejected spent casings after a shot was fired, automatically loading the next cartridge into the chamber, or could be manually pulled back and released if need be.

Moving from the shimmering recoil unit, down below it the gun was completely flat black in color, from the handle to the trigger guard. However added to its lethal tendencies in a silver, jagged commando knife like finish and design was a laser site, the beam was set behind its own custom emitter shroud like a tiny lightsaber but less complicated and none caustic. Also placed upon both sides of the pistol and just after the ejection cavity of the guns was a smaller Versai Crest “V” with an extended portion of the arch on the left side that traveled horizontally up the barrel of the gun and stopped just before a jet-black, flat grooved metal guard where the barrel of the gun resided.

Set above a smaller version of the Versai Crest was a trigger box, similar to the one found on Jedi lightsabers with a green arrow and a red arrow. When the green arrow was pressed, the pistol had the ability to provide fully automatic discharges from its barrel, spewing off several flechette cartridges in fractions of a second but paced enough that they would not cross the same paths and eject their cargo into their own allied shots around them, this provided Val to empty an entire clip in under 15 seconds towards his target, usually used to strafe a runner, leaving a trail of metallic fury hot on their heels.

When the switch was set to the red arrow, the gun acted as a normal pistol, pulling the trigger once it fired one shot, then the recoil unit slide back, loading in a new cartridge ready to fire again once the trigger was pulled a second time.

Clips were loaded with ease, only a small button near the bottom of the hilt of the gun needed be pressed for a empty clip to slide out and a fresh clip be loaded, with relatively small amounts of friction, increasing load time.

Val had six of these within his Firehouse armory, but he only meant to use two at a time, if necessary leaving the others behind for backups or replacements should his weapons be lost in a battle or a escape situation. Only six of these weapons existed, each were custom fit to the shape of Val’s hand and could only be rebuilt under his direct permission. Currently in the entire galaxy he held the only six in existence, the plans to his custom weapons were found only in his mansion’s computer files and accessible by he and he alone.

Cryroban WW – 75  “Pressure Trigger” grenades.
(and twin bandoliers)

These small cylinder devices can fit in the palm of your hand. Each contained a anodized red button on the tops of their structure which consisted of micro-circuitry, a cryroban reservoir and a triggering mechanism that sent an electrostatic charge into the tube like devices, causing the cryroban to activate and freeze “flash” apart both the structure of the grenade casing, and its target.

Cryroban was a fire deterrent used by Merr-Sonn Munitions and other laboratories in its lowest consistency, used as a gas to instantly smother out any harmful flames that might occur in secure areas, but inside the grenade units, the degree of cryroban was at its most potent levels, which when released and activated by a specific electronic pulse, would flash freeze an area, person, droid, instantly sapping the heat from the area causing the target to become instantly frozen solid, the same effect that liquid nitrogen has upon anyone exposed to it, anything caught in its blast would shatter to pieces when impacted.

Several of these individual grenades were stored within two bandoliers that were sewn into the material of the main body glove upon which everything mentioned was attached. These bandoliers held the tubes in place with tight pressure exerted by each slim storage pocket, making sure that none could fall out or accidentally detonate. Given to the safety of the user, in order to activate the grenades the user would have to press down on a button that led into another button by a spring mechanism into the arming trigger for the count of three, then by another count of three the electronic pulse would fire and detonate the device with flawless precision.

If the switches were not pressed down in unison within the trigger device, the grenade would not arm until enough pressure was placed for the correct amount of time, with both buttons pressed down and held it would arm itself for the three-second countdown. Once armed the devices could not be disabled.

The Body Glove

The body glove that supported the entire outfit was made of the same blast dampening material found below the chest plate, the material was a rubber like substance and also gave the wearer the ability to evade motion sensors with its stealth black color. Within the suit were built in monitoring systems that raised the temperature within a pore lining to a comfortable level. If the wearer were in extreme cold, the suit would keep the wearer warm, if in extreme heat the reverse keeping him cool.

With the blast dampening fabric added to the rest of the armor pieces completing the ensemble, most blasters would be useless against who ever possessed the attire, and in this case it was made only for one man…Valaryc Versai.

The Sleeveless Trench Coat

The final addition added to Val’s new attire, for the entire outfit did not speak “Versai” until he had with all the toys, and equipment his signature long, black, sleeveless trench coat. The coat was redesigned and updated however, from his usual collar and gray stripe to complement the colors of his new black, red, and silver fatigues.

Starting at the collar, instead of a flat collar that surrounded the wearer’s neck, it was composed of a fluted design of three bands of dark gray with lighter grays resembling pin-striping set between each rounded, but flat tube-like strip. Extending from the tips of the stripes, jetting out in a slight angle were the familiar flat surface collars of his previous jackets, but they did not continue all the way through to the tips of his coat bottom, instead the gray ended and below the strip in black, were his second dedication to the past…the very same triangular designed fasteners found on Gen Zeridian’s midriff, a tribute to her memory in his struggles against those who would bring him harm, matching on the opposite strip were the same silver rimed circular holes upon which tabs sculpted below the triangular wedges slipped into the opens and held the coat closed around its possessor’s body, though Val rarely ever fastened his coat around him, preferring the “hang loose” look.

(The fingerless gloves and boots remain unaltered baring the Versai Crests)

Val’s fingers quickly gripped the black body glove and wrapped it around his practically nude body, adjusting the suit accordingly around his medium built form, until it fit into place. Secondly taking each piece of armor, and the shoulder pads securing them into place with a vacuumized seal. His mind buzzed with what he now felt he must do, knowing that in the process of going after Quillion but some how…someway learning of his location he would have to deal with the deaths of many for his needs from the few…was he prepared to take the lives of strangers? Even if they might even in their darkest ways within The Killian ranks have families?

No…Val concluded as his now gloved fingers slide on his belt around his waist that he wouldn’t give them the choice…they fired upon him in the Rancor’s Pit, upon Mos Eisley, and upon his very doorstep at Versai Tech as far as he was concerned there was more then enough evidence to consider their existence and their lives…all of them forfeited.

Val’s fingers clasped around one of his knee high black boots sliding it along his leg, up to his just below his knee then the other, tracing the emblem of the Versai Crest shimmering from just below the rims as his mind focused upon the image of Isis, his sister Sara and the necklace that he had given her to show his love for her…at the time romantic and binding it soon evolved to a brother’s love for his sister and a vow to watch over her, protect her and now it would seem avenge her.

Within his heart he felt the anger rise and boil, traveling through every vein in his body fueling his blood with unbridled rage from being forced to lose again…he lost Gen, he lost Sacul and it seems now he must have lost his sister as well. Every time he tried to reach out to her mind…to her soul, the force told him nothing, not a heartbeat not a trace of life.

Val’s thoughts collected as he contemplated this sliding his signature sleeveless trench coat over his shoulders, his back to our views, head cocked to the side using his fingers to straighten the multi striped collar around his neck, flicking his hair to adjust with it, slowly craning towards the rest of his needs laying before him within the six tower structures awaiting his needs.

VAL – (speaking to himself) For Gen, for Sacul, for Isis, for everyone I have lost for everyone who has wronged me…I shall avenge. I will no longer rest, relent, or resist until Quillion’s sick games are ended…and his so called “Killian” faction crushed under my heel…once and for all.

Val’s fingers dialed in a pass code on one of the pillars, as three panels slide open with a SNAP-HISS, revealing in a dim blue light cylinders of his signature Cryroban “trigger” grenades. Without thought, without care for the power they could unleash Val slide in the canisters into his bandoliers along his thoughts, filling the pockets with the liquid fury he would use later upon his enemies…ending their destructive nature in a flash of ice blue light…frozen for an eternity by his hand.

Equally as much Val also grabbed some traditional grenades that were made only for explosive purposes placing these same devices in design but in lue of Cryroban containing explosive contents in the excess pockets of his bandoliers behind his legs, moving down to the next row below sliding forward two drawers where clips to his Deacon flechette pistols revealed themselves to his eyes, taking 6ix of them placing four clips in the back of his belt inside the specially formed holders, and the other two inside two of the compartments along his sides, taking one last clip for that “just in case” moment and placing it behind the buckle of his belt, where if need be, no one would expect him to store something in that spot, able to reach and load the final row of ammo and create yet another solution that evaded a possible end.

With his belt well stocked and his bandoliers loaded with his chosen weaponry and supplies his eyes turned to a black panel built within the wall of his “Firehouse” which could be described as a well polished, very clean and metallic looking room, where all the walls were sections of polished metal, containing anything from sliding panels that opened, to portions where a panel would flip around and expose even more equipment. The metal was lined with an inner bevel where a panel was revealed, and the lighting was a light blue, which cast the room in a luminous high-tech casting glow. This special area was off limits to everyone but he and Sacul, it is where Sacul had acquired his weaponry that he used to aid Isis and Corrie, and in a twist of irony it was also the place that Val depended upon to aid him in his quest for vengeance.

With bold strides, Val’s new coat billowed around his body with each step towards the jet black panel, using his finger as a DNA scanned key, and voice recognition Val opened the panel and as the door slide back a tray like device emerged forward, extended by hydraulic arms.

There on the tray was a box with a clear transparasteel cover, and within nestled inside a spongy black material shimmered two of his six Deacon flechette pistols, sleek and stylish Val had never really used them much before but he figured that the Killian home world, wherever it may lie would prove a most fitting “testing” ground.

VAL – (grabbing the guns) Never have I had to depend upon such devices before…but times have changed now and in this age and this era I suppose its time I get with the program…and evolve. With these weapons I will crush you Quillion, for all the pain all the loss you and your kind will learn that you do not EVER piss off a Versai.

Val’s fingers slide along the smooth metal recoil units of his guns, sliding a clip into the bottom of the hilt, slow and paced as the device flicks into place, his head cocks slightly to the side as he breaths out…his eyes closed in both pleasure and satisfaction. With a gentle tug he listens to the first round slip into the firing chamber drawing back the top piece, gold in color until he hears the confirming “click” that the weapon is now fully armed and primed for its service to him, releasing the recoil unit as it springs forward and locks into place, repeating the same procedure with his other weapon, flicking them around in his hands like a gunslinger, having the safeties on not risking a misfire but wanting to test the smoothness of the trigger guards along his fingers, quite pleased with the non obstructive feel of the steel rolling off his exposed fingers…his attention then turns to a comlink set within a wall to his left, flashing a incoming message.


Pacing over towards the screen he walks out of the Firehouse over to another room which houses his UNITRAC transmission center, sitting in a plush black set facing a monitor as he flicks the switch, waiting for destiny to perhaps give him what he wished…. a way to find Quillion and a way to end him.
As Val flicks on the “receive” switch, the image of Lance Jade, decked out in his Vice President attire fills the screen. Lance’s gaze is down turned and slowly rises to meet his superior, not pleased with having to report much to his CEO but some news he’s uncovered none the less, unaware that Val’s night has been less then pleasant, much less that his information was for the most part gravely outdated but not entirely useless.

LANCE – (slight smile) Hello Val, I have some interesting news you might be happy to hear. It seems that cross-referencing evidence from the assassination attempts upon both Dathan and myself, that the intruder was in fact not a true Killian, because according to Isis’s testimony, there true skill was much more articulate and their outfits were fireproof…meaning that the outfit was faked. Also under it when the coroners examined the body, they found the Versai Tech uniform of Ensign Nemeth.

VAL – What are you suggesting then?

LANCE – Well in our conclusion based on the evidence…The Mole is now dead.

VAL – (shakes his head) Lance you are my friend so to you I extend my grace and no other. Your conclusions are miscalculated, according to my knowledge the attacks were made PRIOR to the raid on Versai Tech, which means someone had to have lowered the shields, and because that someone is still alive my mansion is in ruins…

LANCE – (startled)Wha? How?

VAL – (rubs his brow) Because you’ve failed to locate him. Because of the so-called investigative teams collective incompetence The Killian came HERE to my friggin doorstep and invaded me. It was because of YOUR CODES that The Mole STOLE from YOUR ROOM that allowed them to bypass my defenses and take over not only my life but my goddamn sense of patience as well.

LANCE – Uh…something wrong Val? You don’t seem like yourself.


LANCE – Val, my friend please…calm yourself, you know that in the course of reason we can work through this and end it for good.



VAL – (growls and calms) Isis Surul is Sara Versai…my sister, or at least she was. I don’t know what to feel anymore Lance I really do not. I know that as long as that Mole is allowed to live and breath you nor I will never see rest. You will find him and you will end him…that is a direct order. I have no more compassion left in my body…The Killian took my sister…the lines of compassion have been lost.

LANCE – Isis was your sister? Wait a minute…she’s dead? No! That’s just not possible!

VAL – …

LANCE – (goes silent) There...there is still more…more news that might interest you. Do you have any data scans of Isis’s body on hand?

VAL – Yes…I had them all scanned and documented for any trace of illness, infection, and whatnot, why do you ask?

LANCE – We found a foreign reading within her scan…It was suggested that I contact you and see if your readings might match our own because we suspect…

VAL – Suspect what?

LANCE – We suspect we’ve found the cause of our locations discovery and I suppose that now with your troubles with the Versai Mansion being attacked…we’re pretty sure our theory is accurate.

VAL – (emotionless) Report then…

LANCE – Val I…I’m sorry I didn’t know, I have no idea at the time I just found this out and I don’t know really what to say to that except…I’m really sorry. Isis is the key to it all.


LANCE – (sighs) Val…you’re not yourself are you? You’ve changed…your more angered, more upset…and I know you, please try to calm yourself…if I could only tell you how much I shared the pain you’re feeling right now over Isis’s death…but I can’t tell you, not right now. But its not about me, its about you and what you’re planning to do…when you act like this, you tend to send the insurance people screaming.

VAL – You have no idea Lance…what I plan to do now and property damage is on the menu. For the moment, continue your report I’ve pulled up Isis’s records.

LANCE – (startled) Examine the lower right quadrant, maximize the area to 85%.

Val’s fingers tap in a series of commands into a computer console next to him, having transferred the records electronically from the upper floors to his current location, noticing that in the genetic readout of the area only 85% of the area is organic flesh matching Isis’s DNA.

VAL – (quirks a brow) 85% of her is real...then what is the other 15%?

LANCE – We don’t really know that for sure but topical scans shows that there is nothing out of the ordinary in her body’s features both internal and external except for one spot behind her leg, which looks to be part of her muscle but its scans do not read as human organics.

VAL – Foreign substance…But if your records match my own that means that when we brought her in from Tibannopolis…this thing, whatever it is was, was already placed…there.

LANCE – (nods slowly) Exactly, we suspect its some new form of tracking device. We can’t really prove that theory but given the fact that both VT and your mansion’s locations are unknown it’s the only plausible explanation.

VAL – (knits his brows in thought) Of course…tag and release. The toxin, it all makes sense now…The Killain weren’t trying to kill Isis they were pretending to attack her so I would…

LANCE – Val, you didn’t know, you couldn’t have known!

VAL – (growls) DAMN HIM…exploiting my honor, he knew it Lance he knew that I would save her and that was his plan! Don’t you get it Lance? He used Isis as BAIT, he followed her scent like a bloodhound through this tracking device…it eluded our sensors because its unknown technology and I bet even Isis didn’t know of its design…then it makes perfect sense to me now…the sign I’ve been waiting for.

LANCE – Hmm?

VAL – What can be tracked can also be traced…

LANCE – That’s right! I’ll prepare a fleet and meet you in a couple hours Val. We’ll go get them. Uhh damn I forgot that we don't have the equipment installed yet to follow that type of signal.

Val’s eyes drop away from the screen as his grasps his Deacon pistol, pulling back the trigger guard. This weapon in view of Lance’s perception not noticed before, it suddenly dawns upon Lance what Val’s intentions are…now having noticed till he backed away from the screen that his new outfit was darker and from what he could tell…a prepared suit only worn when one was to go into battle.

VAL – (cranes his eyes towards Lance) No…you must locate and remove The Mole Lance, where I am going you cannot follow until Quillion’s leech is stopped. As long as The Mole lives inside the Versai Tech facility, unknown…he poses the greater threat to you then Quillion right now.

LANCE – (shocked)Since when you start carrying a gun?

VAL – Since Quillion pushed me just a bit too far…I’m tired of waiting, tired of watching, tired of having my strings pulled by him Lance. Its time for him to play MY game now…

LANCE – (raises an eyebrow) You know there is one question I have to ask you Val, why do you always cut your opponents in half?

Val’s eyes narrow a moment as his gaze focuses to a cold, focused stare away from Lance’s observation.

VAL – (slow, drawn out response) In most cases zero chance of survival…a resolved measure of closure.

LANCE – (shivers)Uh...Listen Val there’s another way…there has to be another way!

VAL – (low and drawn out) There is no other way Lance there is only…closure. I intend to bring it on my own terms.

LANCE – You’re not thinking off…you can’t possibly be considering taking on an entire army of them by yourself are you?

VAL – (nods slowly) Indeed I am…

LANCE – (sighs) I know how stubborn you are Val…all I can do is tell you, don’t get yourself killed over there ok?

VAL – (eyes narrowed, cocking his pistol) There is no conflict, there is no remorse, no more pain, no more suffering, there is only...vengeance.

LANCE – Val, revenge never brings redemption…

VAL – (growls) Vice President Jade, you have your orders…my words are a direct command…find The Mole and dissolve it personally. No more games, no more wasted time. I made you my VP because I know you possess the intelligence needed to expose anyone who tries to hide within our ranks. There must be something you’ve overlooked, something obvious…insignificant…and yet vital to its identity.

LANCE – (nods slowly) Ok…ok Sir, I give you my oath as your faithful servant and friend…I will find this traitor and I will expose him…and end him. It’s clear now that for bringing about the suffering he has caused you no court in the universe would give him nothing less then a death sentence.

VAL – Also Lance be careful…I have a good feeling that this Mole is also a force user.

LANCE – I gathered as much, we ran a check and discovered the “electronic manipulation” strategy to bypass several security measures…quite intelligent I have to admit.

VAL – (nods)When you have carried out your orders my friend…then and only then should you locate me and assist. By the time you arrive I have a feeling things will be further developed then you or I can possibly imagine…destiny it seems has given me the keys now…I will begin writing my own path from now on.

LANCE – (shivers) Are you absolutely certain Isis is dead?

VAL – I sense nothing, not a life sign, not a force signature…for all intents and purposes it appears that she’s no longer among the living, however if she is alive the only way I’m going to know for sure is to go into Quillion’s den of thieves myself and drag her and Corrie out.

LANCE – The odds are against you Sir…

VAL – I care not for odds, I care for results…you know me Lance, nothing and I mean NOTHING is etched in stone until I accept it as such.

LANCE – Understood…

Before Lance can give Val a proper salute and leave him to his own thoughts, Val abruptly flicks off the UNITRAC unit, plunging Lance’s image into darkness. Val’s eyes shift towards an artifact on his wall seeing the same pattern of movement Isis saw in the liquid silhouette, he can almost swear that the figure trapped within is moving.

A voice echoes from a solid block of carbonite, in which Cire T’Negun’s remains have been forever trapped in the metallic coffin, acquired from Val’s last and final visit to the remains of the Dark Jedi Academy upon the Forest Moon of Endor, collected among other things. The block stands as a symbol to Val each time he gazes upon it that no matter the odds; no matter the pain…he always managed to rip victory from the jaws of death.

Yet this time, his body began to spread with a silent terror, his eyes locking on the fluid movement of a human skull seemingly moving through the carbonite as if it were a lake of molten plastic, the stiff qualities of the surface shifting, and yet as the metal hues began to mix and swirl, the skeleton remained secured except for the head which glared towards Val, the bony regions along its eye sockets on the skull shifted downward into a horrifying scowled, stare.

The voice is dark, and ominous…deep and sadistic and matches the same voice that Val had spoken to with his “walk” alongside the manifestation of the dark side…apparently manifesting itself through the remains of his most hated advisory and Gen Zeridian’s murderer.

SKULL – You don’t really think you’ll win do you?

Val’s eyes shift over towards the speaking skull as he stands and walks to stop just before it, one hand still on his Deacon pistol, the other now resting along his thigh, his other pistol holstered behind his back as his deep brown bangs slide along the features of his darker…more emotionless facial regions.

VAL – I can and I will…

SKULL – At what cost would you waste your life so needlessly Val? Revenge? Redemption? The loss of a good lay? (cackles)

VAL – None of the above…I’ve taken on people before, they will prove no different.

SKULL – Look at you, noble…honest, compassionate…HAH! Where is your sacred creed now boy! You’re not even the image of the man you once were!

VAL – (growls) That I admit is true but not because of you or your tendencies…because I choose to be.

SKULL – (grins)Ah so you choose to surrender to the dark side after all these years? Mmmmm then what makes you any different then Quillion?


SKULL – Temper…temper…Quillion kills your sister; you kill his prized confidant Crymson Vachon. Quillion invades your Versai Tech facilities…now you intend to invade his own. Do you not see the pattern here?

VAL – I don’t care about patterns, all I want his is freaking head on a stick.

SKULL – (grins)Aahhhhhhhhh yes, can’t you feel it in the air Val? The hate swelling inside your veins, polluting the air you breathe. If I were to hold up a mirror boy…you would mirror the same image as your “dark ages” when you brutally slaughtered Jedi without a second thought….Oh those were the days.

Val’s eyes flicker a moment as he tries to push out the images of bloodlust he once contained to protect his lover from any harm including the interference of Jedi, cutting them down without remorse or regret. Within his mind, he could still hear the skull speaking to him.

SKULL - You feel the power inside you don’t you Val? You can have so much more then you have attained so much quicker if you surrender fully to your dark side.

VAL – NO! This is not about power, its not about property its about justice!

SKULL – Justice for what? Murder? Like you cut down Admiral Krevlin and Cire? Did you do that for justice Val for TRUE justice or your OWN justice?

VAL – (sighs) I did it for the ones who fell by their hands…for honor, for memory.

SKULL – You did it because you feared what you could not control boy! I know you! Admit it Val you slaughtered them out of fear! Fear of what they would do to you if you allowed them to live! YOU FEAR YOUR DESTINY!


The skull’s lower jaw cackles as its eyes train upon Val and laugh in his face, each echoing sound begins to take the tone of Cire’s own laughter…the hate in Val begins to boil more and more as he tries to suppress it, tries to keep what little of his creed remained but the skull was working its venomous words well upon him now and the more Val listened the more sense it made.

SKULL – You slaughtered your own students….your own THIRD RATE student…your OWN KIND. You would kill anything that disrupts your happy little world just so you can maintain the lie that you live!

VAL – (swallows hard) Cire, Krevlin, and another else who has robbed me of my happiness, my life, my god given FREEDOM from pain, suffering, THE TOUCH OF ANOTHER ALONG MY SKIN!!! I WILL PURGE FROM THIS UNIVERSE FOR THE BETTER OF THOSE WHO RESIDE WITHIN IT!

SKULL – (laughs louder) OH YES! I FORGOT! YOU’RE A “DARK JUSTICE” AREN’T YOU? That’s what you really are Val, you’re the judge, jury and executioner. Hmmmmm now who else was like that let me seem hmmm…perhaps Lord Vader?

VAL – What??

SKULL – Lord Vader, he struck down Jedi and carried out his orders preserving that Emperor Palpatine’s justice was the only sensible justice…and you are now claiming the same path. I delight in your return home my brethren!


SKULL – Oh yes…the truth hurts doesn’t it? All that you have perceived is going to change Val, whether you survive it or not will not be for me to decide but rest assured in the end, it will be I WHO AIDS YOU…you will call me…friend.


SKULL – It is unavoidable…already the hate swells inside you, bursting into rage and it will give birth to hatred so potent you will even lash out at those you love without care…and you will kill them, the guilt will eat you alive, the hate will tarnish your image forever…then you will BE MINE!

VAL – Hatred….you correct I am consumed by it, but it is not used in YOUR SERVICE.

SKULL – (grins) I know your weakness Val, and I will exploit it until you fall…

VAL – You’re just a decoration on my wall skull, you can do nothing to me…

SKULL – Too true, but I live…within you, until you come to grips with severing my connections with you…I will continue to grow stronger inside your fragile mind and one day boy, one day when you’ve reached the peak limitations of your resistance I will live THROUGH YOU.


The skull within the liquid carbonite cackles in glee towards Val, clacking its jaws in boisterous laughter as it watches Val’s mind teeter on the edge, savoring the rich flavor of his hatred and in turn whether he likes it or not supplies him with the drug of rage and power to suit his desires…knowing full well in time he will come to be dependent upon them and in that time…he will surrender everything to keep it.

SKULL – (snickers, then chants)

“Your living without them is my eternal vengeance.”
“Your living without them is my eternal vengeance.”
“Your living without them is my eternal vengeance.”


In a blaze of rage Val pulls back his arm and unloads ten rounds from his Deacon pistol into the carbonite block, his eyes filled with tears of pain, of self recognition, and anger…each time he pulls the trigger the carbonite block is pelted and pierced by the razor sharp showers of flechettes slamming into the block’s surface, now having been shot through and covered in a hundreds of the tiny stilettos. As soon as Val’s pistol clicks of no more ammunition, it is only then that he comes back to his senses, seeing that he’s sitting in his chair, as if waking from a dream. The flechette pistol rests in his hand, unfired and still fully loaded awaiting his use.

With mixed emotions Val’s eyes roam up the carbonite block containing Cire T’Negun’s remains, then shifts over to the readout of his UNTRAC system. A paper begins to print out, as his information imputed into the computer mainframe has gone through and reached a result. Val doesn’t resist one second moving from his chair to the paper, holstering his pistol as he tears the paper from the printer, reading its results from the search.

VAL – (reads the paper) Foreign Substance…15%…sonic emissions detected…tracing…signal located upon Xyquine…location Outer Rim Territories...signal location immobile.

VAL – Xyquine? So that’s where your little den of thieves is. Quillion, its time I come down to your place and say “hello”.

Val’s fingers fold up the paper as he tucks it into his pocket, pacing out of the room to a turbolift, as the door closes behind him.


Emerging from the elevator, Val returns to the same heavily damaged hallway that Sacul fell within, walking cautiously down the corridor as sparks sputter and spray from severed wire connections. Each step Val’s boots make along the ground stirs up dust and debris, the lighting cast a flashlight in his hand moving through the hazy darkness till he spots the torso of Sacul laying deathly still.

Quickly picking up Sacul’s body in his arms, he sniffs a bit, trying to clear the tears welling in his eyes seeing Sacul’s humanlike limbs flung about him, taking careful steps to wade through the piles of damaged droids to another location inside his vast mansion, where Sacul was “born”. His figure disappears into the room as he enters…the twin doors sliding behind him; plague the scene into solitary darkness.


Within the newly forged facilities of Versai Tech, Lance Jade sat at his desk clasping his fingers along his temples trying hard to crack the mystery of The Mole. Sure he had some suspects but each lead turned out to be no where, from his chat with Tula An to the other higher ups of VT, each seemed to have little motive to violate Val’s trust within them…then there was Val himself.

Lance had known Val from the time of the Krath Wars and had fought alongside his friend in many battles after, he knew when Val was upset, when he had been pushed too far and gravely understood what happened to those who pushed his buttons one to many times. As noble as Val was he was all the more lethal to whomever caused him harm and from his last images of his CEO, prepared to wage war upon The Killian he also knew that there was no more reason in his friends eyes and no more logics to his actions…for the first time in many years he was acting purely on emotion.

This was more than just clause for Lance didn’t tell Val but when he laid eyes on Isis Surul for the very first time…a part of him bonded with her, her beauty was so captivating that in her presence, Lance felt short of memory often forgetting things incoherently.  Still at the time he could see that Val was far more involved with her then he could hope to be and he respected that. It was the newfound knowledge that Val and Isis or Sara as she was now no longer pursued a romantic interest in one another that enraged Lance the most…not towards them, but towards Quillion cutting short his one chance to possibly love again.

He had no idea if Isis even cared for him, but much like a eager cadet, he fell head over heels in love with her from the moment her unconscious form was brought into VT’s midst. Silently Lance thumbed through piles of paperwork on his desk, searching through various testimonies, and information…specifications on Killian technology, recent histories…SOMETHING to give him the clue he needed, something obvious he overlooked that he didn’t consider before. It would come as no surprise however that the answers he sought had already crossed his paths, and shortly they revealed themselves to him in the form of a single slip of paper.

A figure paces through the door, busty in her tight fitting VT uniform. Lance’s gaze adverted from her sexual enticements for her body was supine with well endowed breasts and a washboard flat stomach, even in the outfit around her meant to keep the women in the facility dressed non provocative, there wasn’t a set of linen in the entire fleets that could shield her attributes.

Her name was Alexia Brea. One of the people that Val had rescued from her troubled times and gave her a new path to travel within his ranks and on his payroll as Versai Tech’s official Therapist. She was a excellent source of comfort when he called upon her, her qualities seemed to easily sooth and ease the tension within the men she encountered as well as the women, though she was for the most part open about her sexual prowess, she did maintain a degree of respect to any who approached her with need, as the company “shrink” to put it bluntly, she often had her appointment books full…but when she was instructed to carry out other tasks as well, playing a messenger was not below her ability.

Her green eyes shimmered, glancing over to Lance before her, admiring how he filled his gold trimmed Versai Tech suit well, but keeping with her respects to a professional level she nodded to her superior and bent over long enough to drop a letter upon his desk and casually spin on her heel back out the door. Hips rhythmically swaying with her walk turning back her gaze to speak to Lance before stopping at the door.

ALEXIA – Mr. Jade, the letter is from Tula An and she has instructed me to inform you that it is a matter of great importance and great secrecy…open it and tell no one what you find. I have carried out her request and now return to my duties.

Alexia winks towards Lance, then disappears through the double doors as they slide open and close, Lance’s eyes transfixed her momentarily presence that disappeared as fast as it had arrived.

LANCE – Uhhh…thanks? I must remember to make an appointment with that woman.

Lance shakes his head for a moment, having so much conflict inside his psyche, so much to do, so much eagerness to do it and yet thus far little direction to go in. Taking a deep cleansing breath Lance thumbs his fingers over the crude and less flashy plain white envelop with his name scrolled across it in written ink. He gathered that due to whatever the vital contents of the inside were, that this was done intentionally to mask them, and quite cleverly conceived. What he read within the paper that fell out is what intrigued him most.

Inside the letter he found the following message.

V!RS?* T<CH R!C*****

S+bj<ct – Sh?d[w Str*k!r
?rm[r Cl?ss – L+x[r B?s!d
W!?p[ns – M[d*f*!d S+p!r L?s!r C?n[n


?LPH? T?NG[ !CH[ [N!

1200 – 630 – M
1230 – 330 - WFM

L+x[r ?rm[r F[rm+l? –

[n! p?rt P!rm?c*te,
[n! p?rt D+r?st!!l,
[n! p?rt sc+lpt!d Tr?nsp?r?st!!l

Sh*!ld ?cc!ss C+d!s –
PS+ = 187745 ?LPH? [N!
VM = 1879 ?LPH? D!K? Z!R*D*?N 456
VT – MSC = TK421 D!LT?


--- END


Along the bottom of the message was an additional line written in blue ink. That read:

“Almighty Eye Is Opon Uou” <--- Five will show the way…

- TA

Lance’s eyes shifted as he raised an eyebrow at the strange message, but he knew that he’s seen this combination of letters before…trying frantically to remember just where and when. Slowly the image began to unfold, seeing a shimmering compact disc, and the face of the man who held it was


But Lance had dismissed the scrambled, garbled message. What did five have to do with it? What five? Why if Tula An was so high up in the VT ranks could she not spell the message correctly? Lance took out a pen and corrected the mistakes so the message read

“The Almighty Eye is Upon You.” <--- Five will show the way

His fingers drummed on the desk, as he looked over the message, scrutinizing the text within it his mind working like a clock, calculating mixing the symbols around in his mind. His pen now began to doodle on a pad of paper near him, seeing that the computer didn’t help him in cracking this message, he relied on human intuition, knowing that there was a reason Tula went to great lengths to hide her identity from detection, aside from her initials “TA” which could quite frankly mean anything from “Tech Analyst” to “Toilet Assistant.” Still there was something about this message that nagged at him, he began to go through the letters of the alphabet on the paper.

It was then that he noticed starting with “A” there was only one…moving on to B and so on but each time he reached a vowel…it appeared to be missing from the sheet. Lance then scribbled out the corrections he made to the message Tula wrote and write it back the way it was given to him.

“Almighty Eye is Opon Uou.” <--- Five will show the way.

Five…five what? There were more then five numbers, more then five letters in most cases but what five? What was the connection? Lance frantically searched for the answers, sipping at a mug of hot chocolate to his right…he had favored the sweet taste over coffee for the moment, licking the whipped cream from his lips as his hands worked over the paper.

Suddenly this intercom buzzed, and he nearly dropped the cup, spilling some of it on the paper Tula wrote him, quickly wiping up the mess, answering the intercom buzzer.

ALEXIA –Vice President Jade, I have been informed to tell you that the Board of Directors is holding a meeting inside the main Conference Room, and they need you to attend. Apparently they have made substantial progress in your investigation.

LANCE – (breaths) I’m making some of my own…

ALEXIA –Excuse me?

LANCE – (startled)Oh…nothing tell them that I’ll be there in five minutes then. I have something to take care of in here and it can’t wait…so they will have to.

ALEXIA – (smirks)I bet…I’ll make sure the maid comes in and tidies the office for you when you return.

LANCE – Huh? Oh it’s not that Miss Brea, I assure you.

ALEXIA – (laughs) I’ve heard that before, but very well I will give them the message for you Sir.

LANCE – Excellent…oh and Alexia?


LANCE – Pencil me in for an appointment…I think I’m due for a little chitchat after this is all over.

ALEXIA – (laughs) Will do Sir…

Lance shrugged to himself as he flicked off the switch to the intercom. His mind thought if he’s infatuated with Isis why would he bother with Alexia? His body responded with the simple phrase, “Because she’s hot stupid”. While his sense of duty and emotional frustrations ensued, he blocked them out leaving the moral debate for another time, knowing he had only five minutes to crack this code that even now began to consume him into its mysterious encryption. A growing lust to finally know more then he has learned swept over Lance as he listed all the things he could in the terms of “five”. Then he looked down towards where his cocoa had spilt and warped the paper.

The droplets of cocoa had managed to magnify and blur together some of the text, but the odd thing was that where the paper was warped, the same symbols were caught in its pool of moisture. As Lance glanced over them his heart jumped a beat seeing that the symbols…

Numbered five.

With a feral pace, trying to beat the clock Lance scribed down the five symbols.

Which read these:

<  +  ?  [  !

It was then that Lance shifted his gaze back towards the same misspelled phrase, trying to figure out what Tula was trying to tell him, he had gathered the girl was quite intelligent and therefore there was no possibly way the misspelled words were there unintentionally…he took each section and broke down the words in a column.


As fast as lighting it struck him…the first letter of the phrase was all consisted of vowels! Thumbing over the code of the message, he noticed that where the symbols were set, if you translated them as vowels would form missing sections of the word it was contained in….

Dathan wasn’t incompetent at copying files! He was CODING THEM…

The message wasn’t garbled it was not scrambled it was coded to resemble this. With swift accuracy Lance looked at the clock seeing two minutes left, racing his pencil over the piece of paper translating each word one at a time to gain the value of the symbols equal to the vowels that replaced them translating the coded symbols to break down in the following manner:

? = A
! = E
< = I
[ = O
+ = U

Having this knowledge he quickly flung his pencil down the paper, writing the vowels above the text until the entire thing, aside from the very last portion was translated

(You can crack it yourself to find out what the message truly reads)


The intercom buzzed again as Alexia reminded Lance to attend the very vital meeting with the Board of Directors before Lance could decipher the last couple lines of the paper, but he already know now about the altered codes, the compromised codes to the Versai Mansion defenses, to Versai Tech’s shield control, everything…and he also knew who had wrote it.

Grabbing two DL-44’s from the bottom compartment of his desk, he slide them along the holsters that ran down his thighs, he like Val was allowed to carry firearms within Versai Tech’s grounds. For one with such power would never compromise their rank by discharging a weapon upon an innocent person and with their privileged access to classified information, one could not take chances either. Stepping through the doors to his office, with his blasters in his holsters Lance nodded a greeting to Alexia and thanked her profusely, even though all she did was deliver a letter in her mind, to him she just gave him the keys to his mission’s success but still there was more to do before revealing his hand to The Mole, whom at the point most likely had no idea his identity was now compromised with undeniable proof.


Val’s eyes wandered over a vast machine that lay before him. His thoughts were collecting at a mile a minute, knowing now the location of The Killian home world. He had predicted after learning of the tracking device that was inside Isis’s leg, Quillion would not anticipate to shield his own fortress from his own tech, though he might easily figure out that what can be tracked can also be traced…Val was taking a huge risk, but he didn’t need the signal to remain constant now, even if Quillion had figured out his strategy by some manner, the planets identity was revealed in the same manner that his own home world was uncovered…irony it seems is not without its enjoyable qualities for now Val would use Quillion’s own tactics against him, and not a soul on his planet would stop him from his goal now…Quillion wanted to play games…Val had no problems bringing his own.

Within the machine laid what remained of Sacul 456, covered in wires and soaking in a clear liquid internally the machine would restore his lost limbs by using the liquid and high tech genetic technology to restore his lost limbs by re-growing them similar to that of a lizard. Having advanced in medical breakthroughs that extended beyond humans and other species to androids themselves, it was now possible to restore what was lost in a matter of hours, but when Sacul emerges from the genetic soup, Val would not be there to greet him, but as a creator should pass on to his creation

Val insured that Sacul would return in due time…

VAL – (speaking to himself) Sacul, if only life was as easy as your programming abilities. To wave a magic wand and make anyone come back from death…if it were that simple, I would not suffer night after night with my loves death blazing through my eyes…or Isis’s body being stabbed over and over again like a never ending loop…and you, I did not see you fall my friend, but from the heavy duty weapons by your fallen form, and the damaged SD-10 droid in ruins…I know you fought well.

Val’s lips part a moment as he thinks to himself slowly, keeping his main focus in thought clutching the paper in his hand like a will. Quillion would pay now…Sacul would live, but he would not. If there was anything that Val wanted more then his lover at his side or his sister in his embrace…it was to end the games, to finish off Quillion once and for all and end the nightmares, the horrifying nightmares of pain and suffering. He knew he was different now…he could feel the change wash over him and see his reflection in the glass of the organic chamber before him.

The man who stared back at him was no longer concerned with his creed, with his possessions, the man’s eyes blazed with a hidden sadness but displayed a raging torment and a focused anger…yes it was Valaryc Versai but no longer the compassionate one he had strived to maintain, in a sense the dark side manifestation was right…he had slipped down the dark path and anger was rapidly consuming him but he still kept his rage in check, not focused towards personal wealth or image. He wasn’t concerned with being the best, proving he was the best as he was with Crymson and Cire and Krevlin. He was only focused upon his vengeance. Lance’s words echoed through his ears but he shut them out, he had crossed the point of o return now he knew this and whether he lived or died in his efforts, he would not let his soul rest until Quillion and his entire regime was crushed under his hand.

VAL – (growls)Quillion… "You've stepped over the line this time. You've inflicted your vengeance upon those I cherish...You've awoken the beast within me…You have brought me your you will feel mine.

With those words echoed to himself, Val’s form streaks through the twin doors in front of him, pacing down the hall to the hanger bay where he had awoken, beyond the droids, beyond the blood, beyond the damage he boarded his first ship The Assailant, not his prized Marauder Corvette but the Imperial Shuttle that his friend John Masterson had given him before he left for the Dark Jedi Academy, the same shuttle that he scribed the word “Assailant” into with his dagger after Gen’s death and the very same shuttle that burst from the Death Star Hanger Bay shortly after the Millennium Falcon flew off, tracked by Lord Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin. For today, Val had another plan for his relic, far outmatched by his Marauder Corvette; he had picked this ship for a special purpose…not intending on returning within it.


Val’s eyes fastened upon the massive Hanger Bay doors that lay between him and his destiny, flicking a switch with his finger for the doors to open, finding that for some reason they were not responding to his command. Surmising that possibly the blaster damage riddling the walls might have something to do with it, he had no more patience to do things the “easy” way.

The shuttle rose from the ground, retracting its landing struts as the wings remained up, but slighting guided down as the main thrusters propelled the craft in perfect balance like a bird towards the closed hanger bay doors. The ship moved closer and closer closing distance as the guns upon the wings slide into position and take aim.


As the scene observes the trees blowing in a harsh tropical wind, and the twin moons of the planet highlighting regions of the Versai Mansion, though damaged still maintained its prominent beauty and the rising Cliffside below it, the twin hanger bay doors still remain closed, but suddenly in a shower of debris and flinging plates several explosions shatter the doors like tin foil, moments later Val’s shuttle rips through the air with a mighty roar of its engines climbing into the atmosphere as the wings of the Lambda craft extend down, forming the signature silhouette of its triangular shape, zipping towards space. Obviously Val didn’t care anymore about security or property damage, for he simply found his own solution to stubborn doors

Blast through them…

His ship was now just a distant dot in the rich purple and gray hues of Alpha Xeridia’s skyline, a bold bolt of lighting ripping across the sky as the blip moved skyward and disappeared from view. Val’s course was locked now and his destination was set…his mind prepared and his senses flared with eager anticipation and a coursing need to avenge all that Quillion and The Killian had inflicted upon him, his course was now set to Xyquine and no force in the galaxy would stop him now…nor prevent him from his goal once he arrived there.


The thoughts tore through Lance Jade’s mind as he paced down the hallway towards the immense meeting that the Board of Directors had felt necessary to declare a priority one status. With his newly found knowledge, just as Val had predicted from a source that he had overlooked, he had the evidence now to expose the traitor and take him down, but this task was also more difficult then it appeared for he also knew that with the cunning ways The Mole had masked his presence for years within the company ranks, he could easily be all the more dangerous…the matter required a subtle yet firm approach, as well as backup.

Lance glanced to his left and right, eyeing over the security guards he had summoned to attend the meeting by his side, using the excuse that the last attack on his quarters had caused for stricter security measures, this throwing off The Mole’s assumptions of a possible threat. Lance handled the matter very carefully he had two of the best marksman by his side and amply skilled personal combat allies as well. He knew that when the moment came, he and his “crew” would take down The Mole once and for all because there was now no doubt in his mind that the traitor would be someone within the conference room itself, and once inside he was on his own to carry out his orders and try and create as less casualties as possible, if possible.

Lance entered through the elegant twin doors before him, each a solid metallic blue steel with the brazen VT logo stretched across it, below was a light that would turn on to red when there was a meeting in progress, making sure no one else would enter and disturb the mood of the tasks that needed to be addressed. Equally as much when it was green, the matters discussed were not high classification and at that point any more important matters could be addressed if need be, such as another invasion or other such concerns.

Lance nodded to Tula An first, saying nothing as to not give away her assistance to him, letting his eyes roam over each of the VT suited figures within the room, some known some new but what caught his eye the most was a medium haired figure with his arms behind his back in binding cuffs, and three guards surrounding him, standing at the far corner of the room, under a man-trap, so that there was no possible way that he could escape…then it dawned upon Lance, that this man under such strict measures might have been the one he was searching for, despite what his own evidence had shown him.

Sitting around a large table along the left was Tula An, her green eyes lowered and downcast, followed by Marc Jade, a prominent and shrewd businessman whom had gained his level of rank through years of hard work, and exquisite military strategy, having moved from a war planner to a desk job, with several people under his supervision. His eyes peered towards Lance giving a very refined nod in respect, shifting his gaze towards the man in the bindings and the one at the figurehead of the massive conference table. Lance’s lip quivers a bit but he keeps his normal, respectful gaze as he locks eyes with Dathan Hawkyns sitting a little distance from him. The other occupants of the room were Gabriel Lions, and Mitch Collins.

Quite a few more people then Lance expected to come across, it had appeared that the full staff of the Board had returned from their various vacations and returned to active duty. Lance glanced towards his security force, disguised and briefed before hand, their blasters were concealed behind their own Versai Tech uniforms, which borrowed from the clothing facilities bared nothing more then a Ensign class ranking making their true purpose shielded from detection as merely Lance’s escorts…with his personal permission alone were they allowed to attend the conference, on other cases they would be ejected from the room in a blink of an eye.

Lance sat at rounded end of the elongated table, while Dathan sat across from him a little distance away. The table was highly polished and brown in color, not too elongated like a banquet table but enough of a distance that if you sat on top of the table between Dathan and Lance, you could fit 4 people between them before they met face to face, with Marc, Gabriel, Mitch, and Tula spread out along the sides. Tula’s gaze often roamed over to Lance, as if she wanted to tell him something more but slowly lowered her eyes towards the sheen of the table before her and returned her gaze back towards Dathan who beamed from alongside the prisoner captured and planted next to him, while Dathan sat freely at the table, giving him short glances from time to time.

DATHAN – Ah….Vice President Jade, I’m pleased to see that you’ve made the meeting. I don’t really want to mix too many words right now but I believe my colleagues will agree that the search for the traitor in our midst has ended.

LANCE – I find that hard to believe…

Marc suddenly echoed his own comments, followed by Tula and the rest.

MARC – It is true Sir…the evidence is unmistakable

TULA – (timid)Yes…we found artifacts in his possession; there can be no doubt.

MITCH – Aye, I agree strongly with the others, and I must admit I’m rather displeased with his actions.

GABRIEL – Yeah he’s the traitor, can we go get some lunch now? I’m starving.

Lance’s eye raised skeptically glancing towards Dathan, crossing his arms about his chest waiting for further support then a few peoples affirmations, for Lance seeing was believing not hearing the hearsay of others, even if they were on the Board of Directors, Lance’s findings were pretty solid against his own suspect, yet he stood from his chair and paced over to the prisoner. Lance noticed that there wasn’t smoke in the room but the people around him seemed to cough often, and at times even looked as if they were not entirely focused upon the events of meeting, uneasy and distracted but trying to preserve their duty they attempted to uphold their “unsettled” nature.

LANCE – (approaching the bound man) State your name traitor…

The figure bound in the cuffs slowly craned his head upward, his brown eyes meeting Lance’s with an exhaustive gaze before his words spoke out, drawn and spaced riddled with a struggle to form.

PRISONER – Ken Mathews…you will learn to remember it well.

Lance turns towards Ken, raising an eyebrow before glaring to Dathan.

LANCE – What evidence do you have against this man?

DATHAN – I believe Marc will answer that question for you…won’t you Marc?

Marc’s eyes shift towards Dathan, then towards Ken, finally falling upon Lance as he clasps his hands upon a folder gesturing for Lance to walk over to him. Lance making a glance towards his two escorts, before stopping before Marc, his eyes moving along to Tula who remains transfixed upon the surface of the table, not even glancing towards Ken or the rest, Gabriel on the other hand taps his foot impatiently his gray eyes occasionally looking over Ken and Dathan, before streaking to the door, and back again, an impatient look as if he had more important matters to attend to, Lance finding this odd that none of the occupants of the room displayed rage or anger towards the accused…strangely calmed.

MARC – (tosses a folder) Inside there, you will find after we searched the facilities of Ensign Nemeth who was positively identified as the assassin who attempted to kill you and Mr. Hawkyn’s connections were found that both he and Ken Mathews had devised plans to break into your quarters and steal vital access codes, selling them to the highest bidder, hoping to use the attack on Versai Tech to steal vital specs to weapons and equipment selling them to a Killain resource.

LANCE – That doesn’t match the motive for the traitor we are looking for…

Quickly Mitch raises his hand, nodding to Lance speaking suddenly.

MITCH – What Marc didn’t find that our research department did find is that the informant for The Killian was killed in the raid on the former towers during the raid. Apparently the planetary shields were lowered in accordance with orders from Quillion, given to the informant to Nemeth and Ken to carry out his bidding for a place within their ranks.

LANCE – That still doesn’t match the motive of the person we are looking for Mr. Collins, the person we are looking for works directly for Quillion, can use the force and has a high ranking status.

As Lance speaks Tula slowly raises her hand, nodding towards Lance then glancing towards Dathan before adding to the evidence against the accused.

TULA – Neither one of us alone has all the evidence Vice President Jade. According to my research into personal computer units, Ken Mathews had used the access codes that Nemeth had stolen from your room to break into Dathan’s computer, after such he tried to pass on falsified evidence that Dathan was The Mole in order to remove speculation from himself, however when we ran a check on previously deleted files we found that the source of “Electronic Manipulation” was brought about by a device that Ken had obtained from The Killain informant, built with their technology to override our security protocols.

Lance shoots a sharp glare towards Ken and paces back up to him once more, this time he started to see the picture coming into focus. He stepped face to face with Ken and shouted into his face.


KEN – I regret NOTHING Sir…What I did was for the better of all, this corporation is built upon nothing but greed anyway and for over ten years what have I gotten for my efforts? THE SAME DEAD END JOB! QUILLIONS JOB OFFER WAS SO MUCH MORE APPEALING THEN YOUR OWN!

Lance’s hand comes up and strikes Ken’s cheek; Ken’s eyes shimmer towards Dathan then towards his attacker, a sadistic grin spread across his lips.

KEN – I have full awareness of the lives I’ve ruined and I care not for anyone in this building, not you, not him not Valaryc Versai…I carried out my master’s orders with flawless precision, it was not my incompetence that cost the good people their lives it was your ignorance!

Lance’s blood boils with anger as he stares into the cold regions of Ken’s face, seeing the glazed over look of contentment within his brown orbs, but there still was something about the boy’s look that caught Lance’s attention, before Ken would reply his venomous remarks he continued to glance over with a slight haze to Tula and Dathan as if taking some sort of signal from them, but Lance knew with Tula’s earlier assistance she was without blame.

Lance clasped his hands behind his back, spinning back and forth, pacing along the carpet turning his eyes from each occupant of the room, something was still off but he couldn’t yet figure out exactly what it was, something was missing. Slowly Lance turned his attention to Dathan and spoke.

LANCE – Where is the body of this “Informant”

DATHAN – Sadly burned beyond all recognition I’m afraid…but the evidence is undeniable…there was not one Mole in the Corporation there was two…

LANCE – One is dead, the other is in chains then hmm?

DATHAN – That is correct, isn’t it?

Dathan turns to the Board, smiling happily from his spot awaiting the support from his fellow members of the Board, as each replies in their own manner.

MARC – It is unmistakable…

TULA – (nods slowly) I have no doubts.

GABRIEL – Just fry him already…

Mitch – (nods)I concur.

Lance raises his eyebrow once more walking over and retrieving the folders from Tula and Marc, thumbing through the piles of paper and photographs of evidence, the passages covering everything from time of intrusions to samples of clothing found at the scene of the bombing attempts, recovered files and so on, there was one paper that caught his eye though.


Lord Quillion,

Your orders have been carried out with flawless precision. They suspect nothing, I have wired to you the specifications of various top secret projects and used Lance Jade’s own codes to enter and alter the existing codes for the Versai Mansion Defenses as well, I am pleased that you have informed your go-between Killain representative of my service to you, I look forward to joining your ranks and shucking this poor excuse for a job here.

There is one complication, Nemeth’s identity was compromised and his attempt to remove Dathan from the ranks was thwarted…he is dead. I fear that in time they will understand my involvement as well, therefore I am planting the evidence in Dathan’s computer as a precaution, once again using Lance’s codes.

PS…the device given to me worked flawlessly, I evaded many of the security procedures


I rejoice in your victory and await further orders…


Lance scans over the “evidence” of a obvious sent transmission to Quillion, glaring to Ken Mathews rushing over and thrusting the paper in his face, more anger coursing through him as Dathan smiles sadistically from his chair, his eyes roaming over Marc, Tula, Mitch, and Gabriel. Keeping an eye on them it appears, content with their job performances.


Ken’s eyes glaze over a moment, glancing to Dathan and Tula, then towards Lance, the same sinister smirk returning to his evil emotional persona.


LANCE – I don’t believe you…

Dathan’s eyes widen a moment as he trains his gaze on Lance, quickly jumping to his feet with a puzzled look on his face…

DATHAN – What’s not to believe! What further convincing do you need?

Lance’s eyes crane over towards Dathan as he speaks to him in a calm, solemn manner.

LANCE – He lacks the killer instinct to slaughter hundreds of lives…as ambitious as he is, I fail to see that his only goal would be to join Quillion, or to gain wealth. I know Val well and he does not let those who are deserving of his grace go unnoticed…crooked he is, but The Mole he cannot be.

What Lance did not tell Dathan is that he had noticed that if The Mole were trying desperately to keep his identity a secret he would not be stupid enough to send out a transmission that was clearly unsecured, uncoded and unrefined, even signing his own name at the bottom of the letter, written on VT memo stationary…still the clues were not adding up.

It was then that Dathan produced a paper that changed Lance’s views, as if Dathan could read his mind in some manner, slowly making a gaze towards Tula who raised an eyebrow and quickly receded her stare back to the table, while Marc, Mitch, and Gabriel continued to watch with what looked to be eager attention.

Dathan withdrew the paper from Lance hand, then placed another above it, which contained the same coded style that the paper Tula gave Lance previously possessed. Then and only then did Lance start to understand now what really happened with the message, one of the people in the room had already deciphered and typed up a translated copy of the paper, with this brought to light the picture was starting to come back into focus.

LANCE – I see now…then you know of the code?

DATHAN – Oh yes…Tula was intelligent enough to reveal this knowledge to me first hand…she was quite good at clearing up the clutter and tracking its source to my computer. At first she suspected me as Ken had intended…then she learned to see things as they really were…Didn’t you Tula?

Tula nervously curled her fingers into her lap before replying to Dathan in a timid, low voice.

TULA – Yes…there is nothing I know now, that you do not…I admire your sense of leadership Dathan.

MARC – (raises his finger) I wish to add that I’ve been equally as impressed with Dathan’s leadership on the Board.

GABRIEL – Yeah, yeah…I had to admit that in times like these, I’m more then pleased to give my support to Dathan but someday I’ll admit I want his job. Can I go eat now?

Lance shifts his eyes towards Gabriel, finding his last remark a bit too…convenient. Lance surmised that Gabriel was a selfish, ambitious man making such a claim in front of his superior but some portions of Lance also admired the trait, though in the moment at hand this was neither the time nor the place to boast ones selfish desires, what irked him even more was the defiance he could see in Gabriel’s eyes constantly shifting to the door, with his complaint of being hungry he figured the foot tapping impatient attitude Gabriel had was brought on by his lust for food.

Lance then directed his eye back towards Ken, what was peculiar about Ken was that when not spoken to his eyes seemed in a constant confliction with Dathan, each exchanging a battle of wits to one another…perhaps Ken had more then profit on his mind, perhaps the look in his eyes was some sort of revenge towards Dathan, what Lance had suspected was that there was more to Dathan and Ken’s struggle then met the eye…something wasn’t being told here and he grew tired of being toyed with.


DATHAN – Yes Ken, tell the man about “us”.

Ken slowly closes his eyes opening them once more, glaring to Lance with clear defiance ladled within his dark brown orbs. His tongue comes to lick across his dry lips, feeling t he cuffs about his wrist growing tight, while he begins to tire from standing for several hours in Dathan’s custody.

KEN – You want to understand me Lance? You think you know pain do you? Dathan caught me, he’s been boasting about how much I will pay for framing him and wants nothing more then to have me be his slave. But I resisted you see, you and your authority are nothing! You can kill me but there will be others, there are always others. I’d have rather been discovered then led around by his leash any longer! He’s a control freak and I wanted nothing more then to kill him for it, but my duty held me back…the informant opened my eyes to how weak this company’s policies are and how easily I could exploit them. Oh yes at first I was timid about breaking into the computer banks but after the first time it was as easy as taking candy from a baby!


Lance shifts his gaze back to Tula and the others around the table…he’s found it odd that none of them have added to Ken’s charges or shown any type of outburst or even pride for their company that Ken berates…if Lance were in the chair as one of them, and not a Vice President he would be giving Ken hell for his actions and yet the others still seemed eerily calm.

MARC – If I may speak I have to add that Dathan’s measures are extreme and at times often…(coughs heavily)That is to say I meant that Dathan’s measures are not as cruel as they are….(coughs)Well they are fitting for such a treacherous filth like him!

GABRIEL – (glares to Lance, then to Dathan) Look we all know he’s this damn Mole! He’s the traitor, quit screwing around with Dathan’s practices and end this meeting already! I’m starving here!


Gabriel immediately grows silent, rubbing his throat, while Marc’s eyes focus slowly returning to his normal breathing, the coughing having subsided, while Tula remained motionless in her chair, her eyes seeming to want to say something, but each time her lips parted, she relented, almost as if her voice was not even able to form the words, lips moving but no sounds emerging from them.

Lance notices this and walks over to her, shooting his glare towards Ken, before resting his hand upon Tula’s shoulder in comfort.

LANCE – (whispering to Tula) Are you ok? You seem a little out of it…should I send you to sickbay?

TULA (glances to Lance, then over his shoulder) No….no, I’m fine Sir. Just a little unnerved by everything happening in here…the energies you see have a toll on my well-being.

Lance leans over and whispers into Tula’s ear.

LANCE – (whispers) Thank you for the note…but what does the phrase at the bottom mean? Is it just the vowels or something more?

As Tula begins to answer, she suddenly drops her head, grabbing it as if fighting off a dizzy spell returning her balance over Lance’s shoulder to Ken, then towards Lance.

TULA –(barely audible) I…I can’t recall that right now…ask me when its…safe, the energies you know…they aren’t healthy in this room, when the meeting is over…I’ll tell you more. Must remain…focused.

Dathan’s eyes slide from Ken towards Lance speaking into Tula’s ear, then down to Gabriel who has now gone from tapping his fingers and twitching his legs, to blatantly staring a hole through the twin doors of the conference room, his urge to escape growing inside him, and yet every time his foot moved to walk, Gabriel found that he couldn’t advance the other. Dathan’s brown eyes glanced to Lance, trying to read him…his gestures, his movements searching for something then shifted back towards Ken, locking eyes with the traitor, the same struggle for control between Ken and Dathan’s stares becoming apparent to Lance’s perception once more as Lance paced back towards them.

LANCE – Then you all feel that the evidence is conclusive? Let me get this right. Both Ken and Nemeth had somehow found away to contact The Killian stronghold and meet with a representative of their faction. Then gained favor with Quillion directly and were entrusted with a way to get messages sent back and forth.

KEN – That is correct…

DATHAN – Keep going Lance…there’s more evidence.

LANCE – (takes a deep breath) Then after making a connection and being employed under Quillion’s influence, both these men acquired a foreign object to break the security measures on our computer mainframe to gain access to highly classified data such as passwords, date files, and technical specifications?

The others in the room each nod in response, Tula still rubbing her temples trying to focus and Gabriel giving a nod while continually glancing towards the door.

LANCE – After all this these two ordinary people manage to break into my quarters, steal my codes…use this device to crack past our high tech failsafe devices and acquire the pass codes for the Versai Tech defense network and shield control functions. Then after this set fire to my room to cover their tracks? Meaning that while Ken did this, Nemeth was trying to do the same to Dathan’s computer dressed as a Killian Warrior except that he was caught in the process and still left his VT suit on underneath the outfit?

DATHAN – Yes, obviously he wanted to carry out the task, disappear and easily shed the disguise so that everyone would be looking for a Killian outfit, in lue of his own. Therefore chasing a phantom that would never be found. Something must have gone wrong with his explosive device because when he fled and it went off, I found him.

LANCE – Makes sense…So then after all Nemeth’s death, Ken goes to great lengths to frame you Dathan by putting in codes into your computer as a false lead, using the codes he took from your room. I can see that clearly now…which leads me to wonder, how did you capture Ken in the first place?

MARC – (raises his finger) I can answer that. Mr. Mathews was trying to leave on vacation in a hurry, after we suspected the strange, sudden request to take a leave of absence we checked his quarters and behind a vent, inside the air duct we found a Killian outfit, gloves, and the device he used to trick the computers and get the codes, we also found a paper with the five symbol crack.

LANCE – (nods)So then Ken didn’t intend on people dying after all did he? All he wanted was to get the information and get out…but then why were the defenses to the Versai Mansion lowered?

DATHAN – Versai Mansion defenses? What is that?

Lance turns towards Dathan, clasping his hand behind his back as he approaches him, glaring towards Ken with the same feral…anger filled expression, the news of Isis's death still buried deep benath his soull fueling the rage within him towards Ken.

LANCE – That is where Val took the girls, Isis Surul and Corerilla Dublon. I spoke to Val recently and I can tell you he’s pretty damn pissed off about losing his SISTER BECAUSE OF COMPOST LIKE HIM!

Lance glares to Ken and grabs him by his head, yanking back his hair, drawing his DL-44, placing the barrel to his neck, the actions are so blinding that no one notices this until they see Ken starting to crack under the pressure, and Lance’s body erect and poised, ready to pull the trigger at any moment, his eyes having gone from calm and relaxed to a ravenous fury.




Dathan quickly grabs Lance’s blaster for Lance’s hands, as Lance’s eyes almost fill with tears of hatred…damn sure he would have pulled the trigger and blown his reputation had Dathan not removed the threat of his anger bringing about the final blow to his credibility within the company. With some care Dathan felt what Lance was going through, and slowly he pushed Lance’s trigger arm down from Ken, along his chest, easing him away.

DATHAN – No President Jade…not like that. You don’t want to become him…

Lance glares towards Dathan, not impressed with either man at the moment, but slowly he steadies his breathing adjusting his coat, smoothing out the wrinkles, his DL-44 holstered back along his hip, stepping away from both Dathan and Ken before he did anything more rash.

DATHAN – No Lance…you have your freedom, you have the keys…He is in shackles now and I hold the key over his fate now. Rest assured he will pay for his actions to the fullest extent possible.

Tula quickly flicks her eyes up towards Ken, then towards Dathan, slowly over to Lance settling her fingers along his side as he brushes by her, lending her support to his pain for Lance now had the answers that he had been working endlessly to acquire…there were two Moles, one was dead…one was captured and yet the command Val gave him still buzzed in his head, torn between morality and justice he knew if Val was in the room, Ken would be dead already, it seemed that the evidence was now concrete and there was no denying the fingers pointing to Ken and his accomplice now. It made perfect sense that it would take two to pull off the stunts Ken and Nemeth had succeeded in accomplishing, and Lance also knew that based on his research Quillion was quite intelligent at corrupting the minds of the innocent with his seductive reasoning…Ken was at last The Mole…the search was over.

His trail was over…he was guilty.


Within the dark, ominous skyline of Xyquine lighting flashed and rain poured down upon the land. The location was filled with trees and various lush foliage, almost akin to Val’s own home world, save for the structure that could be seen from miles away, not easily made out in detail but for the rows of white lights beaming from its structure.

The clouds were thick, as they rolled across Xyquine’s atmosphere, rumbling thunder and pelting the surface with stinging hard rain. It rained constantly here; The Killian had chosen to forge their headquarters upon the least occupied, least likely location. For surrounding the forest was nothing but bare, flat wasteland dotted with rising hills and pine trees. Entirely unlivable on the outside, The Killian clung inside their main Citadel with eager passion to avoid the cold, wet fate that lay beyond its safety. Anyone who displeased Quillion was ejected from the building and forced to die in the wilderness, a fate Quillion felt was much more effective then death or when he was simply tired of slaying those who lost favor with him, the barren lands his condemned were exiled too insured no survival for lack of food, and clean…pure water.

The Citadel was composed of four main claw like structures, between each a layered expanse of plating, some sinking inward, some jetting forward, topped off the tops of the claws bent inward and connected to a large cylinder disc, which settled below the highest points of the clawed arms, upon which atop it sat Quillion’s Throne Room, and above that three massive ruby red crystals, jetting from the roof on the left and right, with a larger, taller, central crystal emerging from the very top of the last structure below it.

Another flash of lightning ripped through the skyline, and then suddenly out of the clouds, Val’s Assailant shuttle streaked towards the massive Citadel at breakneck speeds. The engines of the Lambda shuttle were pushed to the max inside its cockpit, as the ship appeared to be under no control but to continue flying straight ahead, at a gradually descending pace, baring closer and closer to the building. The buildings structure was plated in Luxor Armor, like the Shadow Serpents that had attacked VT, previously so there was no essential threat posed to its stability, but this was not the pilot’s intention.

The shuttle quickly raced by pine trees, tearing them from their roots descending over a hill at a breakneck pace, before emerging into full view, now known to not be flying towards its target, it was aiming to RAM its target.

Inside the Citadel, swarms of Killian Warriors and staff buzzed around grabbing blasters, lightsabers and anything else they could get their hands on, racing towards the ships intended destination. In seconds the full body of the Imperial Shuttle could be seen now, glistening with white…its ion blue engines starting to overheat as a trail of smoke left a trail from the sky to its rapidly approaching location. Ground crew raced out the main entrance to the Citadel and began to open fire with blasters from the floor, intending to alter the ships course.

Suddenly The Assailant met its fated end, slamming into the right side of the Citadel, exploding in a massive display of fire and flaming armor plating, the pieces of its devastated wings fall down, crushing the squad of Killian soldiers that happened to have been caught underneath is blazing wreckage. The Killian Citadel suddenly burst with activity as hordes of soldiers quickly race up its decks to the impact zone, knowing that the ship had to have had a pilot, or some clue as to its purpose for taking the time to evade all they had thrown against it just to end up slamming into a structure that the pilot had to have known would never topple.

The pilot indeed knew this, but it was not Valaryc in the cockpit. Val had ejected his way out of the shuttle just as it crossed over the hill, landing with a thud, skidding over the dirt and brush, gaining his balance watching his plan unfold. His eyes glanced in utter delight as his shuttle found its mark, colliding with the right side of the building as he has intended, knowing that by doing such a maneuver, the bulk of Killian forces would now race up to the roof and expect him to try and enter from there, completely mislead by…”misdirection” that Val intended to waltz right in through their front door in his own manner.

He walked to the front door, having activated his stealth devices, and unclipped his lightsaber blades igniting first Obi Wan’s Second saber, extending a shimmering blue blade, then his own custom Luminex crystal-baring hilt, the golden yellow blade quickly jetting out matching the length of its opposite blue luminescence. His eyes glaring towards the sealed door before him, knowing full well that The Killian had stolen his designs for Luxor well, but with all their collective reasoning, had not thought to plate their doors to attack as well.


Inside the abandoned entrance of the Killian Citadel, from the center of the door, a small eerie orange glow began to spread along the brushed metal surface. The glow intensifying every second, glowing brighter and brighter, the metal beginning to stream down like molten lava. The solid metal bubbled into a liquid state. A fiery red-orange glow began to mix with the green hues of the room as the hissing grew louder and louder…The green hues of the lights, completely drowned out by the intense ginger glow from the door, was an astounding sight.

Then something shimmering blue, as well as yellow began to emerge from the bubbling metal liquid. The blue blade suddenly lunged forward, then arched up in a half circle, while a golden yellow blade emerged alongside it, through the freshly carved slice in the door, traveling opposite to one another as both blades curved up into a half circle, continuing on their paths till they met almost touching at the top. The bubbling metal of the door oozed down the surface of the walls, and to the floor.

Suddenly as quickly as it had begun, the saber blades were gone…



The carved section of the door suddenly lurched forward. The scalding material oozing from around its base slimed its way down the floors below it. A large circular hole now was freshly forged within its metallic structure. As fast as lighting a figure dashed out of it and ran down the hallway, his jet black coat billowing behind him, paying no attention to his handiwork on the main entrance door, his lightsabers making short work of it, Val was already barreling down the hallways, searching for access to the next floor, set in his goals to locate and destroy Quillion, letting nothing stop him…he knew that The Killian would inevitably cross his paths after finding that crashing his ship into their precious building was nothing more then a diversion from his true entrance point, he had no second thoughts in doing whatever it took to reach his goals…and crush his opposition. No matter the cost.


On the upper levels of the building, squads of Killian Warriors and Soldiers were setting up perimeters around the area, while the leading commanders of the squads investigated portions of the wreckage from the shuttle that had managed to find the weakness in the Luxor Armor, having torn through the plating where the lights outside the massive structure were placed, though the damage was only slight, there was a small rupture in the wall. It was then that the comlink buzzed along the leader’s hip.

VOICE – I’ve found something Sir…


VOICE – There appears to be a damaged wall down here on the third floor, I don’t see anyone around here but me at the moment and it’s hot…

COMMANDER – What do you mean? “hot”?

VOICE – Glowing sir…there’s a rather large, circular hole in it.

COMMANDER – Glowing…in the wall itself?

VOICE – That is correct Sir…I would have to say it was formed by some sort of caustic material, extreme heat…

The Commander scratches his head a moment, not wearing the same fatigues as the normal Killian regime in terms of not having a hood over his face, he was human and obviously some sort of traitor from another company, he exuded exceptional leadership skills, and his hair was jet black, long and fell along his broad shoulders…sent by Quillion, he led the team to investigate the damage to the building, and find its pilot.

VOICE – Umm Sir? I’ve found something else…

COMMANDER – (raises an eyebrow) Yes?

VOICE – Bodies sir…I count about ten…

COMMANDER – Soldiers or Warriors?

VOICE – (shines a flashlight on the bodies) I can’t tell sir…their parts are all kind of mixed up.

COMMANDER – Parts???

VOICE – Yes Sir limbs, torsos, legs… some seem to have rather large holes in them…some small some big, I’d say from some sort of projectile weapon.

The Commander having been told to study the actions of any intruders including Valaryc’s “known” combat tactics suddenly draws the clues together…and barks to the voice on the other end of his comlink.


VOICE – Recent Sir…and Uh…He’s coming this way Sir…



The sound of gunshots is heard and then the sickening salvo of flechettes piercing the air, flesh, armor, and bone impacting into the wall, before the radio and its carrier fall silent. The Commander quickly grabs his wrist and screams his orders to his other men.


As the Commander screams his command, the scene shifts to various hallways, moving through the darkened corridors, the lights buzzing loudly while sparks sputter and spit from severed electronic wires and smoldering, smoke billowing machinery. Along the floor, bodies lie in pieces, portions of Killian fabrics burned, sliced, or torn, stained with blood. The scene moving through the trail of bodies from room to room, along the walls blasters freshly discharged leave carbon scoring in their wake, while slices of metal bubble and ooze as with the front entrance…Val had come through these pathways and had gone through anything in his path, using whatever means he felt necessary…from flechettes littering the floor and shattered glass scattered everywhere, to the fresh slices from his lightsaber his fury was being unleashed and from the number of bodies adding up with each room we pass, its clear that nothing is holding him back from his goals. Mingled within the flesh, sliced and mangled steel also liter the walkways, catwalks, and entire rooms…Battle droids, Krath droids, XIM droids all lay in pieces as time carries on, the damage factor within The Killian Citadel is staggering and Val weaves in and out the massive structure, floor by floor slicing, shooting, and carving through anything in his way.

The comlink attached to the Killian Commander’s hand seems none stop as various men on the other line meet Val’s rage, begging for help that comes too little too late, among the phrases were these:

--SKAK—We got three men down! And two active! We’re opening AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH




The Commander quickly flicks the frequency to Lord Quillion’s quarters, screaming this his superior about the impeding situation, growing more and more dangerous with every passing moment.


Within the main Throne Room, Quillion sits upon his throne clasping his hands in his lap, rubbing his fingers along each other, listening to the Commander’s please for help. Each time he hears him explain the death and rapid destruction occurring upon the lower decks to his Throne Room, Quillion smiles behind his mask…oh yes, the rage, the pain, the absolute carnage being unleashed fueled Quillion’s soul because it was not by his hand that such barbaric were being unleashed it was by the noblest man in the galaxy…

Valaryc Versai had snapped…

Quillion delighted in learning of the potential Val had displayed, though he couldn’t see him physically he could feel the hatred, and rage dripping through his soul. He bathed in the anger, the burning passion to avenge his dead sister, he wanted nothing less then to face Val on his own terms and it would appear on his own levels as well. The screams of the men did nothing for Quillion personally, he knew Val would come; he had already foresaw this to occur. This is why he did nothing to warn the men of his Citadel once Quillion felt Val’s force signature enter the atmosphere for Xyquine.

Quillion was providing the meal for Val’s bloodlust using his own weak pawns to feel Val’s dark side, make him hunger even more for the power of wiping out entire legions of his troops, to accomplish his goals. Oh yes, Quillion was that sadistic…for his “drones” as his men so crudely put it were of his own design, they would march into death without question, follow his orders without relent…and never EVER damn his name.

Crymson, Efface, Elric…

They all defied this power…Quillion grew tired of leading a legion of free minded individuals, as doomsday approached his best troops began to buckle under fear and overconfidence…what his own men did not know was that Quillion had already replaced them.

The drones would follow his every whim, they would defend and obey…his own men were factored in his plans now to be discharged from his ranks. Quillion did nothing, sliding his finger up on the audio to his comlink, listening to the men scream and fizzle out, static left from a damaged comlink possibly still clutched by a dead hand…

Soon the shouting of the Commander was cut short, only the snap hiss of a lightsaber recorded prior to being plunged into silence. Signifying the end of his life and by now the trail of blood had to involve at least seventy-five men now, each having been scattered along the decks, Quillion knew that Val was getting closer, and he prepared for it. The Commander two decks below the main Throne Room, but Quillion wasn’t going to let Val get to him that easily…

QUILLION – (speaking to himself) Running amok in my domains are you Versai? Such precisions in your killing spree such speed…enjoy the banquet of flesh and blood I have given you…enjoy the thrill of control and power. My new forces will pose a greater challenge when you arrive.

Quillion would release his drones…his new breed…when the old was purified.

He had done this with the Obsidian Order, and he had no problems in doing the same to his own kind…Consumed by a lust for control, for absolute dominance over his army…Quillion shifted from leader…to Puppet Master.

QUILLION – Should you prove yourself worthy of my attention as I know you will…only then will you find the answers you seek.

With a flick of his gloved hand, he sent out a signal to his freshly brewed legion, as fifty figures moved into place just before the entrance to his domain…and waited.


While the carnage ensued upon Xyquine and Val made his way through the decks, back on the newly established base of Versai Tech, the trail of Ken Mathews was now coming to its conclusion, with Lance Jade ready to carry out justice upon the traitor.

DATHAN – Ken Mathews you have been found guilty of all charges raised against you…Unless of course any of the individuals in here wish to appeal on your behalf.

Dathan moves his eyes over to Marc, Mitch, Gabe, Lance, and Tula waiting for any sign of protest, or remorse for the man in cuffs. Tula’s lips again part to speak but not sounds emerge from her throat, while Gabriel continues to eye the door, seeming to struggle from his seat for every time his foot moves to make his rapid dash his other foot refuses to follow through, his eyes now focused from anger and selfish desire to traces of terror, glancing towards Dathan and Ken…something was preventing him from moving and Lance was starting to get the feeling that Tula’s odd mention of “energies” not being normal in this room was more then she let on. Tula seemed to lace a double meaning with her words…what was she trying to remain “focused” on? It wasn’t the trial for she kept staring at the table…she hardly gave anyone any eye contact but himself…the evidence was conclusive enough and Lance was growing tired of staying in the Conference listening to Gabriel’s protests, watching Tula’s odd behavior and staring at the duel of stares that both Ken and Dathan exchanged back and forth to one another.

LANCE – (sighs) Well I guess I’m convinced then…If I were to impose a punishment on Ken it would be to take his brains and plaster them against the wall…so I feel I must leave this situation right now before my emotions get the better of me.

Lance glances to his two security staff and then gestures to the door with his eyes, turning back towards the rest of the Board, nodding with a crisp salute. Internally Lance feels that given the concrete explanations there is no more use to hang around this odd group of people around him, although he likes Tula An, his patience inside the room has grown to his limit, letting Dathan do as he wishes to The Mole, knowing whatever it will be…Ken will not live through the next day to come. If the VT staff would not kill him, The Killian would for sure and yet in all these strayed thoughts it still irked him about the things he had witnessed in the room, the tone was not normal…the people were not normal.

How in the hell could these strange wackos get the jobs they possessed with communication skills that faltered so heavily? Lance didn’t care anymore as the message he left on his desk sprang back to life in the regions of his mind, remembering that there was still that last set of lines he didn’t translate before he left, seeing that with part one of Val’s request carried out, thanks to the help of his odd, but useful investigative team his attention should be focused upon locating Val and engaging The Killian themselves, not some punk kid who wanted nothing more then fortune and glory.

DATHAN – Vice President Jade? Leaving so soon? Don’t you want to execute the traitor now?

LANCE – (glares)Do not temp me…I’ve had enough of this meeting. As Vice President of this company I hereby end it.

Tula glances towards the door, as Gabriel quickly dashes towards it. The twin doors sliding and closing with him disappearing down the hallway before anyone can react, leaving only Marc, Mitch, Tula, himself and Dathan in the room.

Dathan’s eyes then shift towards Tula as she rises, and Marc who also stands. Marc begins coughing noisily as he is sent spiraling back to his seat, equally as much Tula’s head spins, causing her to almost faint. Lance quickly rushes to her side, holding her in his arms, before she can collapse. Dathan’s eyes shift towards Ken, then towards the two “Ensigns” standing by Lance’s side, before speaking to Lance once more.

DATHAN – So you understand then…the traitor has been found?

LANCE – (nods)I have no more doubts…do as you see fit, I don’t want to see that scum in my sight again.

DATHAN – Very well…I’m glad that we have met a mutual agreement on something. I forgive you for suspecting me in the past, its only human.

LANCE – (nods slowly) The evidence is clear now…I have no more suspicions against you.

Lance grasps Tula in his arms, as she starts to whisper something in his ear, Dathan’s eyes instantly locking in her lips, sliding his hand along his side, shooting a stare towards Ken, then down towards Marc and the rest, finally settling his eyes upon the two Ensigns. His stature increases from a bumbling, clumsy, slumped individual to a more prone, refined posture. As he does this Marc and Mitch’s eyes shift towards the door, then back towards Dathan.

TULA – (whispers)Five….will……show…..the…way…almighty…eye…is…upon…us.

LANCE – (raises an eyebrow) What? What do you mean five?

TULA – Marc…Mitch…Me…Gabriel…Ken…show the one…

LANCE – The one?

TULA – (labored words) Five will show…the way…to the one…

Suddenly it clicks in Lance’s mind, as he darts his hand towards his blaster holster…Tula’s words make perfect sense that there are five members in the room, minus Gabriel who had for the whole time been trying to get out of the room but not to eat…to escape!

Quickly flinging Tula out of harms way, Lance aims his blaster at Dathan and opens fire. Dathan swiftly raises his hand in response as bolts of crimson red lighting explode from his fingertips, absorbing the shots and streaking towards Tula instantly surrounding her in agonizing bolts of energy. The bolts ripple out towards Lance’s guards as the lightning surrounds them, sending their bodies crashing towards the floor, their blasters drawn but useless clattering to the ground in a heap. Mitch and Marc manage to slip out te door just before the energy can contact for the moment, while the battle unfolding within the conference room continues its course.

Dathan’s eyes pulse with crimson radiance as he turns one hand towards Ken, whispering in his ear, while his other hand expelling Force Lightning saps the strength from Tula’s quivering body, the bolts now slamming into Lance Jade as well, as he uses his force abilities to sustain and manage the onslaught, his blaster still firing off towards Dathan, having no effect without a clear aim, blasting into the walls around him.

DATHAN – (gazing to Ken) Your usefulness to me has now ended…

Lance squints amidst the flaring white and red sparks going off around him, able to see Dathan grab Ken’s throat after releasing the "Jedi mind trick" held upon him, too little too late Ken reemerging back into reality from Dathan's spell over him. Dathan glares towards Ken and focus his lighting fury directly into his skull, killing him instantly while the bolts snake around his arms and legs searing his flesh, his eyes wide, hair standing on end. Lance’s eyes shift towards the pulsating corpses of his security guards, having been prepped to attack a threat with a blaster…never learning in their training manuals how to deal with the assault of force aggression flung upon them, all the marksmanship in the world cannot stop a raging lunatic with a lust to kill and the dark side in his arsenal.


Without warning, Dathan produces a jet-black lightsaber hilt with a crimson red Killian logo on the handle.
Lance notices the emblem well, struggling to reach his blaster once more, taking aim. Dathan flicks a switch, causing a blood red blade to extend outward into the wall in front of him, having now ceased his lightning attack. Lance attempts to get up, as Dathan’s hand flings forward towards him, knocking him back with a fierce force push, his other hand making a hole in the wall with the blade of his lightsaber easily in seconds carving his escape route, dashing into the other room behind it and through the door opposite to him.

Lance cradles Tula in his arms, torn between pursing the REAL Mole or tending to her wounds.

TULA – (pain ridden, drawn out) I tried to warn...(coughs)I tried to warn you Lance…he can…can read our thoughts…we couldn’t….that’s why I focused on….the table…so he wouldn’t…wouldn’t know about the paper…about my warning…(coughs harder)

Lance slides his hands along his comlink, which is rendered useless and melted from the force lightning, scowling as he sees a unit nearby, pressing a slighting melted, but functional button.


ADAM – This is Adam Durlock here on the fourth floor Sir. I’ll be right up to attend to the injured, all security has been dispatched and you will be informed of their progress.

LANCE – Excellent, see that Tula An is treated for severe electrical burns immediately, she doesn’t have much time.

ADAM – On our way!

Lance kisses Tula’s forehead softly, waiting for the medical staff to arrive, which isn’t more then five minutes letting them attend to her, a medical staff member sliding Tula on a gurney; Lance rises to his feet as he gazes over her slightly glazed eyes, stroking the portions of her arms that were not swelled with blisters and burns whispering to her.

LANCE- Thanks so much Tula…I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him…I just didn’t know in time…But I swear to you I’ll get him…I’ll get him for everyone he’s hurt. I’ll come back when he’s dead Tula, you hang in there…everything will be alright.

Lance leaps to his feet, his DL-44 in his hand, nodding to the medical personal swarming Tula’s body, lying in a hovering device, an IV placed in her arm and medical scanning units and monitor devices watching her every motion, stabilizing her for the moment. He doesn’t waste another minute with his last glance back to Tula, dashing through the scalding carve in the wall, and out the same door Dathan dashed from. Lance had a new order now racing through his mind, at the speeds of the lights whizzing by him as he flew down stairs, and corridors, guided by security crew tracking Dathan’s movements in sporadic reports…



Within the dark recesses of the vast room guarding the entrance to Quillion’s man Throne Room, his twenty drones awaited the arrival of their intended target with blasters drawn, while others held swords in their hands, both cut down the middle with 25 of each baring one weapon and 25 of the other. Their outfits contained no armor, for save the blast dampening fabric, and their faces could not be seen as each was wrapped in a long black cloak, and had their hoods raised over their faces, which could not even be seen within the void of darkness in their hood. Along all of their arms, they wore gray gloves, and matching boots. The attire was no different then the more humanlike members of Quillion’s Killian regime and yet they were not the same.

The drones were genetically created to serve only their master Quillion, and die at his request. There was no conscience within their genetic makeup and implanted in their minds were every known battle strategy Versai had used in his past battles, from his acrobatic techniques to his signature “move”. They waited in silent anticipation for some sign of Val’s arrival, awaiting the struggle that lay ahead of them…then they heard it…the elevator shaft in front of them began to rise to the surface, each lit number along the rim above the entrance counting up, passing the eight, ninth, and tenth floors…leaving only ten more before Val reached their location.

With the elevators rapid accent, he would arrive in less than a minute. The twenty five drones with blasters marched forward, while the other twenty five drones with swords, moved backward in front of the twin doors to Quillion’s throne room, upon which the Puppet Master was seated behind, upon his throne in wait.

The numbers continued to count up…






The doors slowly opened…as the drones steadied their fingers over the triggers to their guns, the drones with swords tightening their grip on the handles of their weapons in preparation…but there was nothing but thick, billowing smoke that came from the exposed interior of the elevator shaft…

Suddenly, a flash of golden yellow came screaming out of the elevator shaft as the droids in front open fire on the discus of pure yellow fury racing straight towards them. The discus was Val’s yellow bladed lightsaber casting the room in hues of golden light, spinning on its axis, handle tucked in while the blade created the perfect flawless shield around it forging it into a saw blade of sorts but far more deadly and effective. The master behind it’s control was yet to be seen, but it was known he had to be somewhere in the vicinity to use the force in such a manner.

The yellow discus was relentless shearing off legs and heads against the helpless drones firing blindly at the menacing weapon, not having been programmed with the knowledge that a lightsaber blade repelled blaster bolts, in which their hail of crimson rain careened into the walls of the Courtroom and back, some of their own shots even struck down five of their comrades, who’s swords were no match for the blaster shots that ripped into their biologically grown flesh.

After fifty percent of the blaster wielding drones were wiped out, the lightsaber discus raced back into the smoky atmosphere pouring from the elevator shaft…the last thirty-six surviving drones focused their gazes upon the moving element, peering through the black cloaks surrounding their heads as they waited…once more waiting for the next attack.

The assault came suddenly as Val flipped out of the smoky haze, his eyes locking first on the drones before him, igniting his blue lightsaber in sudden fury, slashing anything in his path, while deflecting the fresh salvo of blaster bolts that raced towards him. The drones were quite efficient now, nailing Val with several shots from their blaster weapons, but they did not count on the fact that Val was now immune to their weapons hits, having been clothed in blast dampening fabric, the shots that did make it through his whirling blade, absorbed into his battle attire.

It didn’t take long for Val to polish off the blaster drones, wiping the blood from his coat before glaring his deep brown eyes towards the other twenty-five obstacles in his path, between he and his ultimate goal…Quillion himself.

For the first time since his arrival…he spoke.

VAL – (low and emotionless) Get out of my way…

The drones didn’t respond to his request, stepping forward towards Val, starting to form a circle around him, their swords shining with razor sharp intentions, knowing that twenty-five to one was odds even Val could not overwhelm…or so they thought, because he had his own equalizer.

VAL – (grabs his flechette pistol) I SAID GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!!!

Val’s finger squeezes the trigger as shots fly from his VTA-5 Deacon pistol; each shot explosive white and yellow burst guided by a blazing red laser site that hit its mark releasing hundreds of flechettes into the sword-baring drones. They swing desperately to evade the shots but it was obvious there was a flaw in Quillion’s genetic makeup of this batch of drones, the drones with blasters were useless against lightsabers and the drones with swords were powerless against blasters or handguns.

Some drones did make it through the salvo as Val’s pistol ran out of ammo, upon which Val quickly found that he had his hands full in saber duels, fending off three drones swinging with saber resistant blades that did not melt when his saber contacted him. Val quickly spun around and ignited his second lightsaber, glaring towards the drones, charging head on into them…fire in his eyes.

They were quite good at using their weapons…but he was the master.

Moments later, Val had managed to clear out the number of drones to five taking minimal damage and moderate damage to his battle suit, which smoked heavily from absorbing the blazing red heat of blaster bolts, dispersed throughout the material. Upon his head beads of sweat streamed, his wrist guard stained with blood, smeared the crimson essence on his forehead as he wiped away the sweat. From head to toe the spoils of war had been painted upon his body in sheens of crimson red, some of the blood of his enemies was dried to a dark brown, while other spots simply soaked into his pants, and coat. One man had cleared his way through an army and his task still was not complete. Leaving only five of the sword wielders left…his ammo was now practically spent and his cryroban grenades were down to three. Val’s eyes glanced over to the damage to his left and right, where piles of flesh were laid out by his feet, some in pieces, some filled with metallic shrapnel and still others were frozen solid as they met the unfortunate embrace of a cryroban flash explosion.

VAL – Five to one…Stand aside and you may even now…still live.

The last of the drones did not waver in their stance defying Val’s order, but each had grown smarter now for they did not all attack at once, the drones had learned that when more attacked Val, they were open to more mistakes and had collectively reasoned through combat skills that each should take on Val one at a time, with the best two left for last.

The first drone approached, glaring eye to eye with Val, taking a horizontal swing towards his shoulder, Val quickly sidestepping with a counter towards its back. The drone was skilled though, rushing Val head on, something he didn’t expect, knocking him to the ground, swinging its sword down to stab Val through the chest. Though Val was shocked by this maneuver, he rolled himself back and knelt to his feet as the drone drove its sword into the ground, lodging it into the floor. This gave Val the edge he needed, kicking the drone away from its primary weapon with a swift kick to its head, running up and grabbing it by the collar, thrusting a freshly armed cryroban grenade down its shirt already counting to three, flinging the drone around and away from him. Val’s hands quickly tossing the droid out of range, before the grenade reached its final second.

The drone was trained to counter a swords based attack, not a grenade…

Upon that final second the drone looked up before an ice blue burst of light removed all the heat from its body, rendering the ground it stood on and the entire scope of its body frozen solid. Val walked up to the drone after extinguishing his saber and punched it square in the skull, shattering its frozen body in a spray of shards, then sending a swift kick to its frozen midsection until there was nothing left of it in tact. His chest heaved as he screamed out towards the frozen pieces at his feet, turning back to the remaining four drones…


Another drone approached Val, swinging its sword towards him, he knew that the drones were well adept in handling a blade, but knew little of ballistic combat. He swiftly ran away from the drone scooping two of the fallen blaster drones own weapons in his hands, running towards a dead end, seeing that another drone had joined the pursuit. Val waited for the right moment then used the force to channel his attributes of speed further. Actually running up the wall, Val snapped his body backward as the two drones below him attempted to box him in on his left and right, while Val flipped 360, as his coat whipped up and around, he unleashed a salvo of blaster bolts into the unsuspecting drones with his decent until the energy packs were empty, landing to his feet, slowly rising as their swords clanged to the floor and their blaster riddled bodied toppled in two heaps.


The remaining two drones looked at each other through their hoods then turned towards Val, dashing to his left and right, tossing down their swords, revealing that they too had their own lightsabers, extending two crimson red blades, as Val ducked down under their swings to his chest, waiting for the blades to pass beyond danger to him. As they did this, Val tossed away the empty blasters gripping his own lightsaber hilts once more, flicking off the securing tabs to his belt, and igniting the blue and yellow blades, hearing the HISSS of his blades collide just in time with the full rotation of the twin drones sabers, coming back to their point of origin, all of the fighter’s sabers touching another.

Val glares to his left and right, holding his arms tightly outward and bent pinning back one blood red saber with his golden yellow blade in his left hand, while using Obi Wan’s Second saber to pin back the other blood red blade closing in on his right. He licks his lips a moment and thinks to himself exerting more force on the impressively strong advancement of the two drones, grinding their sputtering blades of destruction into his own.

VAL – You’ve already lost…

As the drones ponder his words, Val’s blades slide inward into a “X” as he steps back from the two drones, causing their blades to push into his yellow and blue ones, it allows him to roll his sabers down away from the two blood red blades that collide with each other forcing the two drones to almost fall into each other losing balance, and swiftly, draw his twin sabers back up horizontally and outward, severing the two Killian sword drones in one swift movement through their midsections…a new spin on his signature move they did not expect, letting their crimson sabers extinguish in front of him as he pushes his way past their toppling torsos. Their saber hilts landed with a two CLANGS on the polished onyx black floor, below their still erect feet.

Val’s thoughts didn’t form any catchy quip, or sarcastic boast of glory…no he didn’t care, all that caught his favor now was the twin doors before him…the twin doors to Quillion behind him. Val’s fingers switched off his sabers and clipped the hilts to his belt once more, turning his head back to the fifty bodies laid to waste behind him, he reached out with the force and called forth his Deacon flechette Pistols, knowing that behind his belt, he still had one last clip ready, and one in his storage compartment…he’d need all the backup he had to carry out his ambitions now and his toys were rather expensive to replace as well.

Sliding his twin Deacon pistols in his holsters, he looked towards the door and for the first time since his arrival…he smiled.


The scene now shifts to same vast chamber, akin to that of the Dark Jedi Academy Council Room. This was different in some ways. Along the walls were lit torches, not that of current tech but a more morbid method, the torches were authentic and illuminated the vast area with natural light cast from the fires flickering in a circular pattern around the room. The floor was hard, cold, and a shiny onyx black, reflective of the same type of floor paneling that was found in the Death Star Hanger Bay. This location however was far from a hanger bay; it was Quillion’s Throne Room and the battleground with destiny that Val had fought his way through all obstacles to obtain access to. You can tell this detail by the raised dais aligned along the north wall of the room, two huge pits sitting along the left and right of a small flight of stairs leading to the throne itself. The pits blazing with roaring fire themselves that rivaled that of the torches along the walls.

The scene begins to shift towards the massive dual doors that were the main entranceway into the Throne Room, as a subtle sound filled the very darkened, very foreboding interior. Without warning, the twin doors bust open, knocked off their hinges by a massive blast of crimson red energy from behind them. The impact of the energy fury is powerful enough to shatter the bindings that kept the room sealed from invasion, now torn from their supports like tin foil, the two doors groaned and creaked, slamming into the sides of the wall that held them, the supports along the top weakened by the impact with such force, it actually separates from the pressure of the heavy doors yanking down on it, causing twin guardians to drop slump down at a 45 degree angle and settle the base of the bottom of the doors crashing into the black, polished floor shattering portions of it, as a massive CLANG of metal grinding into metal echoed loudly like thunder through the shattered silence of the room.

There standing in the darkness before the carnage of grinding metal, and twisted pieces of support struts jetting from the wall, razor sharp was the figure of Valaryc Versai, his black and silver attire more red now, stained with the blood of his opposition, which now laid throughout the compound in silent, severed heaps on every deck that he had passed through, as well as the melee of drone bodies that scattered across the Courtroom behind him, left in the darkness now, left to rot.

From Val’s fists, smoke was billowing. His fingers curled into tight balls, signifying that the doors had fell to a tremendous energy burst brought about by his focused rate and anger…sent forth with pure, untainted hatred into the twin structures…Val had vowed nothing would stand in his way and from his narrowed eyes glaring from the sea of brown locks cascading along his face…he had kept his vow well.

There was no more waiting for him; no more mystery…no traces of relent within his blazing eyes. He wanted Quillion here and now on his terms, he had passed beyond everything that had came into his path with near flawless precision…nothing in the universe could stop him now, as the anger consumed his soul focused towards the dais above him…It was only then, after a few moments of eerie silence that he paced into the room and looked skyward, to the outline of a figure high above him, watching like a vulture from its perch.

VAL – I have traveled half way across the galaxy, I have passed beyond your guards, your drones, your defenses…I have waited long enough, suffered long enough…and now, there is no one left to defend you…no where left for you to hide Quillion…not even that mask shields who you are…

A Voice echoes from the throne, down to Val below it, the red glow of Quillion’s eyes can be clearly made out now, burning with intensity as he answers Val’s “speech” with one of his own.

QUILLION – You think you know who I am Versai…You know nothing but that which you have been allowed to know. I am unlike anything you have ever crossed before and yet in my former lifetime…my former self we have crossed paths and I did fail…I will not fail again, to end you.

Val’s eyes narrow as his lips curl into a deep, feral growl approaching just before the stair leading up to the dais and to Quillion sitting within his throne, dressed in an Imperial outfit, the green hues can be observed bathed in a orange glow from the twin fires blazing over six feet into the air from the base of his throne, the light from their blaze flickering along the Admiral’s rank insignia plate attached to his left breast, and the blood stains and tears from a pervious battle litter the formal attire well.

Quillion slowly rises from his perch, standing to come into Val’s view stopping at the third step from the base of his dais, smiling through his mask towards Val below him, knowing that his choice of clothing was all the answers Val needed to his identity, or so one might think from the overwhelming factor that coupled with slash marks, and singed corners of his Imperial attire…

Quillion was very familiar to Val…and lacked only one thing now….

A name…

VAL – (glances upward to Quillion) I knew it! I knew it was too good to be true! Everything that day was perfect…you, left pinned to the wall by Cire’s dagger…the clock counting down…and you SHOULD HAVE DIED THAT DAY…

QUILLION – Name your conclusion Val…Who am I….

Val’s fists curl in agonizing rage as his lips part, but a roar, a growl, a angered reply does not leave his lips…in all his fury and all his rage, the final conclusion that he had came up with as to whom would take so much careful planning into his pinnacle of suffering, such devious calculations and cunning strategy would only be the brainchild of an Admiral…a man sadistic enough to plot out the genocide of a family bloodline…a man twisted enough to continue the slaughter, and finish his original goals under a new method of thought.


VAL – Only one man would never let his past deeds go unfinished, only one man would form an army to complete his goals. You…I know well, I knew you…my Sister knew you…my Mother knew you and my Father knew you well, but I swear on my family’s honor…you will not live past this day, for all the pain, all the suffering you have brought upon the Versai…I will strike you down…


Quillion begins to descend the throne five more steps, sliding his fingers along the regions of his mask, which as his hood slide back along his burned hands, was more of a helmet drawing the metallic device from his neck, head, and finally up to reveal his silver hair and his bulging eyes glaring from their sockets…towards the last of the Versai, his identity was exactly what Val had expected to see…for Krevlin’s image stood freely before Val, wearing the very same clothing, stained with his own blood, a slice through the shoulder, slices through the pant legs, on up through the singed and burned material of his suit arms…the mystery was over.

QUILLION – Do you know what the name Quillion means Valaryc?

VAL – I don’t care anymore…you took my sister…all I want is your head skidding along this polished floor of yours and your life essence staining my gloves.

Quillion paces back up to his throne grabbing a object from behind it, holding it behind his back, in a very Imperial like manner, craning his head back towards Val, before answering his own question.

QUILLION – The name means “fearsome” Mr. Winters…I have waited night and day to face you again, to finish my goals and purge the galaxy of your bloodline…Yes, I killed your sister, your mother, your father, your entire legacy…and I will finish the job…with you.

VAL – No, it is I who will finish your legacy Krevlin. You escaped the jaws of death before…you will NOT do so again…you will meet your destiny.

Val’s fingers slide along the hilt of Obi Wan’s Second lightsaber, extending the blue blade with a flick of his wrist as he gazes upward towards Krevlin standing before his throne, seeing him retake his seat in a bold…defiant reply to his words. Krevlin waves his hand over a switch on the throne and the twin pits alongside the base of the stairs suddenly flare up, as a longer stretch of fire streams all the way around the last step at the bottom of the throne, fire erupting into a flickering, blazing wall of flames ten feet high, rising a searing hot barricade between Val and himself, Krevlin sitting in his throne, looping his fingers between each other as he waits for Val to find a solution to reach him, without being burned.


Using the force, Val channels the rippling energy into his feet, taking a few steps back, then dashing forward, defying gravity with a force leap. Both his hands clasp around the hilt of his shimmering lightsaber, as his body passes through the wall of flame, his attire which absorbed blaster bolts had no trouble also shielding him from fire…Krevlin did not account for this factor, seeing Val flying through the air, lunging down with a overhand strike, streaking in a sky blue radiance towards his location, quickly flipping over his throne, spinning back to the right, as Val’s lightsaber passes through the metal of his chair, cleaving the unit into two sections, Val’s eyes refocusing back towards Krevlin as his anger consumes his movements, making thunderous horizontal and diagonal arched swings against Krevlin, who dashes out of the way and produces a shimmering blade of his own…

A Sith sword…

Val’s lightsaber collides with Krevlin’s sword, as the both he and Val lock their weapons. Krevlin’s eyes widened with rage as he glares to the last of the Versai. Val’s face exudes total concentration and quivering hatred towards Krevlin, spinning his blade back and off Krevlin’s Sith Sword, whipping around behind him before Krevlin can react.

Krevlin screams out as Val’s vicious left handed slash rakes into his back, causing Krevlin to lunge forward and spin back, to counter another oncoming barrage of attacks by a feral…more animalistic Val, moving with swift, deadly grace his eyes glazed over and his eyebrows tipped downward, mouth stretched open screaming battle cries of pain, hatred, and a lust for victory.


Krevlin spins around, slamming his sword into Val’s blade pinning it back from him, curling around to send a slash to Val’s thigh, as Val’s blue saber comes down to parry, a eight hit combo ensues as the two fighters battle for their existence, traveling back and forth across the platform of the dais, beyond the severed remains of Quillion’s throne.

Suddenly Val flicks off his lightsaber and uses the hilt to backhand Krevlin between the temples, the move is so sudden and forceful Krevlin manages to land a slash to Val’s chest, but due to the thickness of the plating along it, it does little to stop Val from grabbing his Imperial suit with one hand and hold him high into the air, spinning his body around to teeter over the descending stairs below.


Krevlin’s venom seeps through Val’s psyche like a fast acting poison…spreading down deep inside, into his soul, into his moral ethics and that is when Val’s anger begins to leave his eyes as he faces the truth in Krevlin’s desperate words…What had he allowed himself to become now? Was the dark side manifestation of Cire’s remains right? Was Val letting himself slip further and further into its grip? Val glanced into the polished, mirrored surface of Krevlin’s Sith sword, trying to land in another slash to Val’s body, as Krevlin hung above and held outstretched by Val’s anger, and the force enhanced speed that rippled through ever muscle in his arm, allowing him to suspend Krevlin by one hand, Val’s eyes mixed now between moral confliction and his quest for closure.



Val’s eyes waver a moment as the anger leaves his face…his eyes now starting to fade from the vicious creature that had gazed into the eyes of his slain opponents…that had struck down the drones without remorse…as Val gazed into his soul he saw his true self…the one that believed in “truth, honor, respect, and loyalty.”, lie in chains now…the darker portion of himself sitting upon the throne in his mind…the evil being he had been in the times of the Dark Jedi Academy…the one who killed without compassion, without reason…lusted for power, for love…and for absolute control of anyone’s fate….

Seeing this…Val did something he would never have done under his darker nature…he closed his eyes…slowly opened them…and returned to his true self.



KREVLIN – Kill me Val…or I swear on everything that is sacred, I will not rest until I kill you.

VAL – (holds Krevlin, eye to eye with him) You will live…live with the pain of defeat, because you have failed to convert me…you and your sadistic pattern of tricks and schemes have failed to make me into the creature you long to me to succumb to…

You will live long enough…to realize that when your last breath escapes your lungs…it will not be hate that delivers you to death’s door…it will be JUSTICE!

With his last words, Val spins Krevlin around in his clutched fist, and releases him from his grasp, hurling Krevlin from the top of the dais, through the wall of flames and to the floor below…the impact from the fall shatters Krevlin’s frail body, his sword falling from his grasp, spinning across the floor into the shadows, as Val paces down from the throne, his hand sending a telekinetic blow to the mechanical devices that operate the flaming wall, smothering the flames into billowing pillars of smoke as one boot after the other paces down the steps, stopping before Krevlin at his feet.

Krevlin, riddled with damage to his body, rolls around to face Val once more, every connecting fiber in his body crunching and cracking with each gesture that he makes, staring towards Val’s approach. Within Val’s own mind…his conscience becomes clear, he sees the men he’s slaughtered and Krevlin’s tricks to cause guilt to consume Val and plunge him into the dark side fail to another phrase that Valaryc had lived his life by…

The code of the warrior…

“When someone is willing to take your life, they have already forfeited their own.”

VAL – You’ve failed Admiral…your grand scheme has come to an end. I am not turned, I am not you…I am a man, I am Valaryc Winters Versai…A Dark Jedi Master, Brother of Sara Versai…Son of Kathryn and Russel Versai…I am a noble man, as my father was before me and your reign of terror…is now…over.

Val’s fingers slide along the ignition stud to Obi Wan’s lightsaber once more, extending the vibrant blue blade, standing above Krevlin who no longer fears death but embraces it…his hand coming along his sides awaiting the final “justice” that destiny will deal him…or so he wishes Versai to think.

KREVLIN – Strike…strike true…

In a flash of blinding light, Krevlin’s head is severed from his body, as Val had wished…rolling along the floor as his body tumbles down in a heap…ending the terror, the games…the final conflict between he and his destiny.


As Val sees Krevlin’s headless course fall to the floor, his eyes widen in surprise to observe that it is not blood that comes from the severed stump…it is sparks. Sparks of white and blue sputter from the severed spine of the frame along he floor…

a decoy???

VAL – (puzzled)What in the hell? No…it can’t be…

From the very shadows that Krevlin’s Sith Sword had spun into, the echo of laughter fills the chamber of flickering light, fires ablaze as the voice booms from the darkness, the same tone that Krevlin had spoken with wearing the mask that shielded his face…but if Krevlin was just a droid…who then wore the true mask of Quillion?

QUILLION – (claps sarcastically) Brilliant…absolutely brilliant. Is it all that you expected Val? Is this the ending that you have slaughtered your way through flesh and blood to obtain?

VAL – (startled)But I….then…who…

Quillion approaches from the shadows into view, wrapped in a jet black suit of his own, blazing crimson red dragon like patterns snake along his chest, as a jet black robe hands along his shoulders, his feet baring knee high boots, with the tails of the dragons crawling down the sides of his thighs, ending into the sides of the boots. His hands covered by gray gloves, and a lightsaber…a familiar lightsaber hanging from his belt while he almost seems to hover along the floor beneath him, his boots only made out through the black void of his robe by the flickering torches throughout the room.

QUILLION – I told you time and time again Versai…”All is not as you have percieved” Did you not hear me calling you night after night in your little bed? My voice echoing from objects of your past…invading your dreams, your nightmares…your thoughts.

VAL – BUT I….This can’t be happening!

QUILLION – Oh I assure you, I am quite real and I am the proper person you have sought out…The answers you crave you will learn in time. I have planned for your arrival from the start Versai…everything you though you knew is not as you have allowed yourself to believe.

Val spins around to face Quillion, his lightsaber still blazing within his grasp, poised and ready to strike but Quillion stands before him without one hint of fear or defense…almost goading Val with his very presence to cut him down, but Quillion you see was a master of the mind game…he knew Val well. Everything that Quillion had revealed to his worthy opponent was at his choosing. He knew Val would not strike him down just yet…not until he knew the answers he wished to obtain. This was his weakness that Quillion exploited, lulling his prey with conversation, while another agenda formed behind his shimmering silver mask and blazing red stare.

VAL – I know that I have passed beyond your defenses, your games, and your tortures. and I stand now before you.

QUILLION – (laughs) Ah yes…and you have served me well my apprentice…

VAL – What? I’m NOT your apprentice!

QUILLION- Oh but you are! Do you not see? You have served me just by your own actions! I played your emotional heartstrings like a harp from hell…You came consumed with anger, and when you gave in you became MY servant boy. You slaughtered at my wish…you tested my drones for flaws at my command.

VAL – No…that’s not possible! YOU CAN’T INVADE MY MIND!

Quillion paces closer to Val, one hand behind his back, as he observes Val’s saber blazing along the surfaces of his silver mask, the twin crimson red scars glowing with red radiance upon it.

QUILLION – You cannot deny the truth Versai. Do you dare deny that you allowed vengeance to consume you? Your quest to avenge your sister, family, and friends has led you to taste the dark side upon your lips. You single handedly carved, shot, sliced, and diced your way through hundreds of bodies to face me…in the process you yourself did the work for me, just as I did with Ras Krueger’s Obsidian Order…


Quillion’s fingers slide along the handle of the Sith Sword he had picked up after his decoy had fallen to Val’s hand, his red eyes keeping Val unaware of his actions and the amulet that hung from his neck in silver, black, and a tumarian pressure ruby stone shielded his motions from Val’s force predictions.

QUILLION – No…YOU CHOSE TO KILL THOSE MEN…Just as you chose to slaughter innocent Jedi in the past…you remember the past don’t you Val? Don’t you remember how you strived to be the best…to prove you had no equal, crushing the hopes and dreams of anyone who opposed you and look now…years later your pattern has repeated…you’re becoming…predictable.


Val’s fingers suddenly fling forward, the hilt of his lightsaber carrying through with a vicious swing towards Quillion’s midsection, only to be blocked by a thunderous uppercut from Quillion’s Sith sword slamming into his blue blade with such force, the vibrations nearly rip the lightsaber hilt from Val’s hands as he struggles to counter the blow, his eyes locked with Quillion’s now as their blades connect and fight for control against one another.

QUILLION – You were saying? Now…I believe I have waited long enough to extract my own vengeance upon you…You have slaughtered my men, destroyed my drones but now that I think about it you are correct Versai, you have not committed murder in cold blood and your actions are justified…however you fail to realize your crime is STEALING FROM ME…destroying my belongings…but it wouldn’t be the first time now would it?

VAL – (blinks)Wha?

Before Val can answer Quillion unlocks his blade from Val’s saber sidestepping to the left of him with blinding fast speed, that in a blink of an eye he’s already disappeared from Val’s eye contact. As Val narrowly thrusts his body back away from a oncoming slash from Quillion’s lighting fast sword slashing towards his thigh, he spins around once more locking blades with Quillion, which now both men stand to their sides, but in a unexpected move, Quillion tosses Val back with a fierce force push, sending him skidding along the smooth, onyx floor.

As Val slides back, his grip on his lightsaber is torn from him, Quillion now using the force as the wind passes, to yank Obi Wan’s Second lightsaber from his embrace. The hilt of the saber spins towards Quillion’s outstretched hand, as the blade extinguishes. Quillion takes the saner hilt and throws it across the room; the clang of its impact upon the hard floor is deafening and distant as the weapon disappears into the shadows at the opposite end of the room.

Without a second thought, Val grabs his second lightsaber, extending the golden yellow blade as Quillion charges him, the impact of Quillion’s Sith sword is so sudden, and so swift that Val barely has time to get his blade up to block it, pushed back hard by the force, standing his ground.

Quillion raises his arms slightly, letting Val’s yellow saber grind into the unscathed metal of his Sith sword, leading Val to raise his arms a bit higher, to block the razor sharp blade from cutting into his face leaving a gap small but open enough for him to knee Val’s midsection hard, then thrust his leg outward into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. The impact so lighting quick that rivals the speed of Crymson Vachon, Val barely blinks before his second lightsaber is ripped from his grasp, Quillion extinguishing the blade in the blink of an eye, hurling the weapon skyward towards his dais above, the shattering echo of metal colliding with metal even more distant then the sounds of Obi Wan’s lightsaber sliding into the darkness leaving Val completely without his trusted lightsabers now…and vulnerable.

Quillion grabs Val by his collar, and hurls his body across the room, opposite to the corner where Obi Wan’s lightsaber lies. Val’s ribs almost shatter from the impact as his back slams into the unyielding steel of the wall behind him, feeling the pain riddle his body. Quillion’s gloved fist already picking Val up by his collar again, without his Sith sword now resting on a sheath strapped along his back, using his bare fist to slam pounding blows into Val’s armored plating, without care of injury but as the technique of Crymson Vachon had been used on him before, Quillion uses the same telekinetic blows to land each shot with authority into Val’s ribs beyond his protective attire.

Val’s eyes go wide as he faces the relentless, savage assault of Quillion, it was as if Quillion could actually read his mind and move ahead of every gesture he had, Val’s concentration shattered between mind numbing blows to his body beneath his clothing, absorbing the pain and trying to dissipate it away. Each echo of Quillion’s TK induced strike to his chest, caused Val to cry out in pain, as he collected his thoughts sensing that he could not feel Quillion’s moves with the force…he couldn’t see into behind the mask, nor could he determine Quillion’s strategy…as if the force was somehow masked from his detection…there was not even a signature.

Battered and bruised internally, Val made one desperate attempt to gain distance from Quillion’s barbaric barrage, channeling the force through his veins, Val’s eyes locked on to Quillion’s mask and he burst from his fingertips a crimson radiance that sent Quillion flying back now across the room, Val’s attack being weaker for the moment but effective as a twin blazing bolt of hatred exploded outward from his clenched fists…hurling the energy into Quillion’s body, pining him against the wall with it as his clothes seemed to absorb any damage but the physical properties of the energy kept him glued to the wall, giving Val a few seconds of relief from the pain searing his chest cavity.


VAL – I have faced people like you…Your skill is shocking but not superior Quillion, I know your tactics now…you will find that ending my life will not be as easy as YOU PERCIEVE.

As Val’s steam of energy expires, he grabs Quillion’s robe and slams his fist into HIS chest now, blindingly fast before tying to wrench the mask from his face. Quillion shows exceptional endurance, as he does not even flinch from the blows to his ribs, actually laughing in Val’s face as he slips from Val’s hold over him.

QUILLION – Pain Versai…is my ally…you cannot “hurt” me, try as you might…fight, as you will I have waited long enough to face you again and this time it is I who will win the battle and the war.

Quillion’s Sith sword emerges from its sheath once more as he sends the blade down towards Val’s thigh, missing it as Val staggers away from its razor sharp edge. Sliding his fingers along his back, Val reaches for his Deacon flechette pistol, quickly distancing himself from Quillion buying enough time to load the clip from behind his belt into the handle of his gun, setting the weapon to auto fire, unloading a barrage of flechette fury from the muzzle of the smoking, flashing pistol.

The screaming echo of a thousand flechettes screech through the air as they race towards Quillion, but they pass THROUGH him…a energy ripple of blue light fading into sparkles of light that fade into darkness…but if Quillion was not charging towards him where was he really coming from?

The answer came a Val screamed in utter agony, the Sith sword passing through the skin of his left thigh as Quillion’s blade passed through muscle and flesh, the wound not fatal not permanent in damage but enough of a surprise attack to shift the odds in Quillion’s favor, as Val toppled to the floor, clutching his left thigh, feeling the warm blood spill out along his attire, eyes clenched shut, between narrowed shocked glimpses to Quillion now standing behind, moving to in front of him, his glove wiping Val’s blood off from his blade with the sleeve of his robe, the silver mask looming like a wraith above him, the red burning embers blazing their triumph over top of Val’s pain inflicted figure.

QUILLION- The time has come Versai…I do not wish your death at the moment…no, no, no, there are much worse things then death that I have planned for you this day. I plan to give you the answers you have sought from me in return for your loyal service in my ranks…

VAL – (drawn out) I…I will never…never…..serve…you…monster.

Quillion steps over Val’s form, as Val sends a swift kick towards his midsection. Quillion’s gloved hand quickly catches the foot, and he yanks Val forward with his free hand, grabbing his collar, forcing him to apply pressure to his injured left thigh, the blood pouring out faster from the strain, Val’s eyes widening in pure agony as Quillion whips him around and tosses him against one of the toppled main entrance doors with a bone crunching THUD.

QUILLION – (pacing towards Val) You were always so good at the game Val…Always the winner…now look at you, covered in blood…wounded like an animal…consumed by the embrace of defeat. How does it feel Val? How does it feel to finally lose…to another in combat?

VAL – The…..battle….is ….not….lost….until….I’m….dead….

QUILLION – Oh yes! I forgot that your stubborn to the last…but I assure you this round is finished boy and you are the one on the floor…not I.

VAL – For the moment…but not for long.

Quillion walks over to Val, holding his Sith sword within his hand, closing to stop just above him turning the blade downward as if to run him through his chest, running the tip of the razor sharp blade along Val’s chest, neck, and cheek, drawing a slice into it, more blood flowing as Val lays before him, frozen in shock, and struggling to gain his concentration.

QUILLION – Do you wish to know who I am? You have not died Val…because I wanted you to know…I wanted you to know the face of the one who had defeated you.

Quillion’s sword tips back as he drives the blade inches from Val’s shoulder, through the metal structure of the door as if it were made of tin foil. Stepping away from Val, unarmed sliding his fingers along the rim of his jet black hood, pulling it back to show his mask, was not actually a facial mask but an entire helmet that covered his skull, a cybernetic cranium that traveled from a beveled cunt into his temple up along the smooth surface of his scalp and down along his neck, which was flesh…displaying that Quillion was not a robot and not a drone.

Meanwhile as Val’s eyes were directed to the silver-plated specter above him, the scene pans over to the toppled corpse of Krevlin’s beheaded body. The imperial fabric begins to rise in places, poking upwards in several locations, as tiny, metal points tear through it, each beginning to double in number until the green, blood stained portions of the suit are completely shredded away. From the chest cavity of the droid of Krevlin, tiny robots surface along its chest, Val’s eyes not detecting this being distracted by Quillion’s fingers sliding to the bottom of his helmet slowly drawing the metal, inch by inch along his neck exposing more and more of his human flesh to his eyes.

The anticipation grew within Val’s body as the pain didn’t seem to matter now, he wasn’t even concerned with winning the battle anymore…the answers he truly sought after were now coming to light…it was the moment he had longed for in all this torment…to see the face of his attacker, and know his identity once and for all…it was not Krevlin for using a decoy and being the same man was not his style…Krevlin was always concerned with the spotlight rather then let a droid rob him of any chance he had to gloat behind his desk…which led Val to race through possible suspects in his mind as the helmet passed beyond Quillion’s Adam’s apple now…him now confirmed as being  male and not female.

While back along the droid of Krevlin, the little robots began to pace over to their programmed target skittering along the floor, joined by six others equally as much six tiny limbs moving in sync with one another propelling the shimmering shiny creatures.

As they closed distance with Val who was fixated on Quillion’s mask now revealing his chin, and a silver-gray triangular wedged goatee, the little assassins continued on their path. The torches above cast orange glows along their shiny bodies as their twin points of death gleamed with drops of toxin.

Scarab Droids….

The eight deadly and efficient droids closed the distance between the headless decoy and their programmed target now, starting to climb into his view, as Val struggled to get away. But found he could not move as Quillion steps back and ripped off the last portions of his helmet, glaring to Val with his own eyes, flicking a switch on his wrist as a hum rose from the floor paneling below Val’s feet.

As the scarab droids traveled along his thigh, Val heard the mechanical hum of something below him; seeing that what he had been led to by Quillion was a MAN TRAP holding him in place.

The gravitational pull of the device held Val pinned to the floor as the scarab droids reached his chest emmiting a counter signal, not falling under the gravitational forces of the device securing their prey.The eight now poising their glistening daggers to strike, into the vulnerable sections of Val’s body not shielded by armor, climbing along his neck, slamming in their daggered fangs injecting their venom into Val’s bloodstream, which acted slowly…as Quillion had designed it to not be lethal…but quite effective.

VAL – (bitten by the droids) ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!


Val’s shocked gaze began to subside to narrowed slits as his vision blurred in and out of focus, the droids venom injected into him already starting to take effect while he laid powerless under its effects…in too much pain to call the force in time to stop it, the vital energy being taxed to its limit dealing with his agonizing pain surfacing from his pierced neck, bruised ribs, and throbbing left thigh…

QUILLION – You have yet to understand who I am boy…only now will you be allowed to see who has riddled your existence with pain and suffering… You have defeated all I have sent against you ...but only your hatred will end me.

VAL – (squints his eyes) You? But….but it’s not…

QUILLION: You think you have suffered Versai? Have you tasted death long enough? Can you allow yourself to accept the truth now?

VAL – But it’s not possible…it can’t be…there’s no way…it’s…possible…I


While Val has his suspicions as to who Quillion is, he is still not yet convinced feeling his vision blur in and out of focus, not believing what he sees, not allowing himself to succumb to another trick…it isn’t until Quillion leans face to face with him that he faces reality….

QUILLION: Hello Teacher…did you miss me?



Val’s eyes slowly dim, locking on to the features of Quillion’s face, having no mistake now at to his identity as his dark blue and silver eyes match only one man that Val has crossed paths with before. From the sadistic grin spread across his lips, and the same signature trimmed beard and goatee, along his cheek were the  four scars, from years ago...when Gen raked the reverse end of her lightsaber along it, etching in the memory and the scars that would never heal. There was no more doubt or a mere question in Val’s psyche he would have to face the truth now.


From Quillion’s dark circles under his narrowed eyes, and devilish brows that dipped along the rims of his small black pupils…and his long gray and silver streaked hair that flowed down his shoulders, draping down at one time in tones of black and light gray…

As Val’s last bits of endurance melted away from his sedated body…at the very moment his eyes hazed over and plunged into a sea of darkness, the last thought that Val conceived inside his mind was that things truly were not as he had perceived them…his hands falling to the floor limp, powerless…without weapons, without defense…and without hope of victory.

The soul who plagued his life with suffering and systematically brought about his downfall in the climatic battle between them…the one man who could claim his very first loss in the duel of combat…

The last memory forged in this mind was that….

Quillion was none other then….

Cire T’Negun…

The secrets are out, as the mystery unraveles but not to its entire conclusion...

How did Cire T'Negun survive his encounter with Val?
Is Isis REALLY dead? If not, where is she and where is Corrie?
If Cire is not dead, when who's remains are encased in the carbonite, inside the Versai Mansion?
What plans does Quillion have for Val now? What parts of his plan still remain in the dark?
If Dathan is now who he says he is, then who is he really?
Will Lance stop his carnage before more suffer?

Last but not least, is the overlooked object lost to Val's possession and placed with Quillions.

Whatever became of Gen Zeridian's lightsaber?

The answers to thes questions will shock and amaze you...

The answers to come in the on going saga of....

Versai Chronicles
~ D E C E P T I O N ~



[ Back to Main Story Page I To Chapter XI ]


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