A Standup Philosopher
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Crown of Slaves 022
🕑 Added 2025-04-20 04:00:05 +0000 UTCHope should not, in fact, have sprung eternal. Although, in pursuit of fairness, I did have to admit that this wasn’t quite what I expected to have happen, because while the slaves were not, in fact too busy to ignore me, they unfortunately weren’t alone either.
“Sorry about this, girl. We like you, we really do. But Harkun promised that we could go home in one piece if we made sure that you didn’t make it back.” Twin One told me sadly as I stepped out of the final chamber of the tomb, the last of the tablet transcriptions safely tucked away, his vibrosword drawn and humming in his hand.
“We can’t be Sith, and we’re not like the free-born. We can’t leave Korriban when we like. So it’s kill you, die in the tombs, or die to Harkun.” Twin Two added with an almost sheepish gesture with his own sword, sounding even more put out about the situation than Twin One, and I couldn’t help but arch my eyebrow as I looked at them and the dozen or so slaves -and two hacked mining droids- that they had brought for backup.
“Now, boys, I like you two too. And I don’t mean to be mean, but, uh…are you really sure that you want to do this? This is only likely to get all of you killed, you know?” I drawled slowly, dropping my right hand down onto the saberhilt clipped to my belt and turning slightly to half-settle into a combat stance. The slaves tightened their grips on their weapons, which included blasters this time, I saw, in response while The Twins nodded together in agreement.
“You’re much stronger than us, we know that. It’s why we waited until you tired yourself out fighting and doing trials all day. Not the bravest way of doing things, but if we were brave and powerful this wouldn’t be necessary in the first place.” Twin Two acknowledged, bobbing his head in a confirming nod, and I had to give credit where credit was due, that was a good plan. Certainly the one I would have employed if I were in their position, and one I would probably employ in the future. No point in hurling yourself at a full-strength foe, especially one that was beyond you, when you could wait for it to weaken itself and wear itself out. That was a hunting strategy that went back to the time of roving hunter-gatherers. Sighing, he shook his head. “Sorry, girl, but it’s time for you to go. Sorry it had to be like this.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry too. Got any family you want me to send word to?” I responded in kind, rolling my shoulders and pushing my growing exhaustion aside as I felt my ancestor’s presence coil in anticipation of a fight. I was briefly glad that I had found a clever way of killing the last k’lor slug, because if I had been forced to kill the fucking thing conventionally, this little ambush probably would have been the end of me. Even if I had survived, I might not have had the strength to make it back to safety. Honestly, I wasn’t even willing to call myself out of the woods yet as it was. Yes, I had a lightsaber, and yes I was certainly more powerful than the twins put together, but they had quite a few friends, and those mining droids were built like tanks.
Which is why I didn’t wait for them to answer, instead drawing and igniting my lightsaber in a single fluid motion and darting forward to impale the first mining droid through one of the few overt weaknesses that it possessed, the single large eye that dominated the front of it’s ‘face’. Sparks flew, the scent of roasted circuitry and melted durasteel staining the air, and the droid collapsed with a brief shriek and a long, almost sad-sounding warble. Then the fight was on.
Twin One lunged at me from the right while Twin Two circled left, their coordinated attack instantly revealing why they'd survived this long on Korriban. They were probably connected through the Force on a level only twins could be, able to communicate with a thought and act in unnatural synchronicity as they spread out to flank me. An action that left a clear line of fire for the blaster-armed slaves.
"Fire!" someone shouted, and I was forced to abandon my offensive push, spinning my lightsaber in tight arcs to deflect the barrage of blaster bolts. Each deflection sent vibrations through my arms, my already taxed muscles screaming in protest, and I took a moment to be profoundly grateful to Nicky for forcing me to practice against drones on more than one occasion. Fortunately for me, the marksmanship directed towards me left a lot to be desired, or I would have found myself in real trouble.
A particularly lucky -and it was luck, or the guiding hand of The Force- trio of flicks caught three bolts particular bolts in just such a way that I managed to redirect them back toward their senders, dropping two slaves to the ground with smoking holes in their stomachs and sending a third reeling as the third bolt plowed into their shoulder. But I couldn't maintain a purely defensive posture—not with the second mining droid stomping toward me, its powerful hands reaching out to grab me. Smart enough to recognize that it possessed the strength to quite literally tear me apart where I stood if it got it’s hands on me, I tried to withdraw in the face of it’s advance.
"Don't let up, don’t give her room to breathe! Keep her here!" Twin Two called out, feinting with his vibrosword before ducking back when I lashed out at him with a crackle of lightning. Fuck, they were actually being smart about this, really smart, and I grimaced and swore loudly as a blaster bolt penetrated my defenses and clipped my shoulder. It was my off-hand, and it was only a graze, but too many grazes like that and I would be in real trouble.
The stinging pain was a sharp reminder that I was pushing the limits of my endurance. I needed to change tactics, and fast, if I wanted to get out of this and get back to the Academy in one piece. Back to Kory, who would be killed if I failed. Back to the commando, who was the best hope I had to head of half of the issues in the Republic Class Stories. Never mind all the changes I, myself, needed to make. All the things that I had to accomplish, personally, to fix the galaxy’s problems.
"Alright then," I muttered, reaching deep into my reserves, or at least what was left of them. Pity my ancestor wasn’t letting me draw to much power from him, otherwise I could just brute force (heh) this and every other confrontation. Then again, that’s exactly why he wasn’t giving me too much of his power. "If this is going to happen, I’m damn well not interested in dragging this out.”
With a guttural cry, I unleashed a wave of Force energy outward, not refined or elegant but raw and desperate. The shockwave sent several slaves stumbling backward, buying me precious seconds to deal with the mining droid bearing down on me. I pivoted, cleaving through the machine’s knee, severing it cleanly. The machine lurched, its weight distribution suddenly compromised, and I used the momentum to slide beneath its massive frame as it toppled helplessly to the ground. Two slaves were unlucky enough to be on the far side, and both went down clutching their stomachs as my saber split them open. The rest broke, turning their backs on the fight that had claimed half their number.
"No! Stop! Surround her! Take her down!" Twin One shouted after them, his voice betraying a hint of panic as he was forced to abandon a lunge in order to avoid tripping over the now-fallen droid, but it was fruitless. Their temporary allies were fleeing, and the likelihood that they would return was slim to none. They hadn't expected me to have this much fight left in me, the poor bastards, and it wasn’t like they had completely known what I was capable of in the first place. Rumors and hearsay and seeing a handful of displays in various classes were hardly sufficient to get a proper measure of someone’s strength and ability.
I locked eyes with Twin One, then Twin Two, both of them now clearly uncertain that their assumptions and their planning were as accurate and solid as they might have thought. Good. Fear was useful. I could work with fear, or try to anyway. God only knew if I was scary enough to outweigh the looming threat of the Overseer.
"Last chance," I said, my voice steady despite my ragged breathing and the pain I was feeling. "Walk away now. Tell Harkun you couldn't find me. I won't hunt you down, and you can find another way off world or fight your way into another acolyte pool."
For a moment, I thought they might actually take the offer. Twin Two's eyes flickered toward the exit tunnel, and I sensed his resolve wavering. He wanted out, I knew he did, and both of us knew that this was going to be a far closer fight than they would have preferred.
And just like that, the moment and the opportunity passed as a fact visibly placed itself at the forefront of his mind.
"Sorry, Khai." Twin One said, and he actually sounded like he meant it. "We can't. Harkun will know if we lie to him, we’re not strong enough to hide that."
I sighed, knowing that he was right, and knowing what it meant for all three of us. "Then I'm sorry too."
With a grim sense of finality, I tightened my grip on my lightsaber and centered myself. The Force flowed through me, dwindling but still present, like a fading heartbeat that refused to stop. I couldn't afford to draw this out any longer. My muscles ached, my shoulder burned where the blaster bolt had grazed it, and I knew my reserves were running dangerously low. I considered making some final quip, something cinematic and quotable, but in the end I opted to simply launch myself at Twin One and slash at him with my saber.
He brought his vibrosword up in a desperate parry, the clash sending sparks flying as my lightsaber met his blade. The vibrosword held long enough for his brother to strike at me, though I could see the damage the weapon had suffered in the effort. It could only take one more blow like that to ruin it entirely and leave him with only the Force to wield against me, which made him my primary target. A fact he and his brother seemed well aware of, as they fell into a close formation. One designed for them to cover one another and let them control the tempo of the fight by keeping me constantly on the defensive.
Twin Two's blade caught me as I tried to pivot away from his brother, drawing a line of fire across my ribs that made me hiss in pain. It wasn't deep—the light armor had absorbed most of it—but it stung like hell and reminded me that I couldn't afford even minor injuries at this point. Not to mention that it was going to make breathing a bitch and a half, which wasn’t exactly helpful in a fucking fight.
"You're slowing down." Twin One observed, pressing the advantage with a flurry of strikes that forced me to give ground, his mood visibly improving from moments ago. "We just need to outlast you."
He wasn't wrong. Each deflection was becoming more labored, my reactions a fraction slower than they had been just minutes ago. The Force was still with me, but my body was reaching its limits after the day's trials and tribulations. I needed to end this—now, and decisively.
"Maybe," I admitted, feinting right before abruptly changing direction. "But I only need one opening."
I let my guard drop deliberately on my left side, a fairly easy thing to do given the blaster wound that arm bore.
Twin Two took the bait instantly and instinctively, lunging for what he perceived as weakness with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. It was exactly what I had hoped for—that desperate eagerness that comes when victory seems within grasp. As his blade arced toward my exposed side, I pivoted at the last possible moment, using the momentum of my body to bring my lightsaber across in a brutal upward slash.
The vibrosword never completed its journey. Neither did Twin Two, at least not in the same shape he had begun it.
My lightsaber caught him just below the ribcage, carving upward through his torso in a diagonal path that ended at his opposite shoulder. For a brief, suspended moment, his eyes widened in shock—perhaps even a flicker of admiration—before the light faded from them entirely. His body collapsed in two uneven pieces, the smell of charred flesh and seared blood pouring into the air, alongside his brother’s incandescent rage and deep upwelling of almost indescribable emotional agony. Emotional that was voiced in an incoherent, howling shriek as he hurled himself at me, vibrosword and lightning alike arcing through the air. In my condition, I could only blow one, and I screamed as the lightning flickered across my flesh, leaving jagged pain -and equally jagged burns- crawling across my body, but I was used to pain. Especially pain from Sith Sorcery. Batting his vibrosword aside, I resorted to an ancient technique to survive, and planted one booted foot between his legs with all my strength. He went down with a sound that defied description, a sound that -alongside his suffering- was blessedly cut short as I brought my saber down on his neck.
It was all I could do to remain on my feet at this point, and I stood there for a short eternity, breathing heavily -the new cut on my chest protesting every inhalation-, watching the last twitches of nerves running through the twins' bodies. Their deaths were a sharp, bitter tang in the Force—a sensation I was becoming all too familiar with on Korriban. I hadn't wanted to kill them. They'd been decent sorts, as far as acolytes went. But that was Korriban for you: the only currency that truly mattered was survival, and I'd just paid that price in blood once again. Mine, and theirs, and I couldn’t bring myself to feel anything more than faint regret that it had come to this.
My legs wobbled beneath me as the adrenaline began to fade, the full weight of my exhaustion crashing down upon my shoulders. I stumbled against the stone wall, leaving a smear of blood—mine and others'—as I slid down to a seated position. I needed to rest, just for a moment. Just long enough to catch my breath and gather what remained of my strength. The way back to the Academy wasn’t short, though hopefully I could get some medical assistance from the soldiers assigned to keeping the rebels penned up in this area. Enough to get me back to the Academy’s infirmary, at least. I’d take what I could get quite frankly.
"Fuck," I whispered, my voice hoarse as I leaned my head back against the wall behind me, closing my eyes briefly despite the danger of doing so in my current enviornment. "That was... closer than I'd like."
“Very close. You knew that something like this would happen, but still you were caught off guard. You are fortunate that you are as strong as you are, have the training that you do, and were fortunate enough to claim that lightsaber. Otherwise, you would be dead or dying, and our House would be doomed forevermore.” Kallig remarked, appearing beside me and kneeling down to inspect my wounds with a practiced eye.
“I didn’t think Harkun would try something like this so late, and not after I had already caught Zash’s eye without Ffon to replace me. I got comfortable with being the best choice, got comfortable with him being less unpleasant than I expected, and got comfortable with how advanced I was compared to everyone else.” I sighed, and he gave me a swat across the ear that was, especially compared to his usual chastisements, almost gentle.
“You grew arrogant, child. I have told you before, you rely too much on visions and knowledge of what might have been. It gives you an advantage, to see the things you see, but you are far too prone to presuming that nothing will change despite you acting as you see fit.” he chided with painful honesty, and my own self-honesty forced me to grimace and nod in agreement. It was all well and good to expect things to remain relatively unchanged, the greater frameworks being what they were -The Emperor’s goals, the planets I would have to visit to collect the ritual tools for Zash, et cetera-, the vast majority of my life was already incredibly different from how it ‘should be’, so why in God’s name was I continuing to act as if everything was still following a rigid script? And how many more times would I have to be shown the error of my ways before I stopped doing it? Seeming satisfied, Kallig placed a spectral hand over a couple of my wounds, energy flowing into them. “I will give you enough to get you back on your feet, but no more than that. And pay attention. This is a skill you will likely need to make use of in the future, for yourself or for one of your concubines. To think you have been on Korriban this long and not yet been taught basic Force first-aid. Disgraceful. Back in my day…”
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To say that she was surprised by the shape that the gorgeous, busty, studly silver-haired acolyte that had promised to help her escape returned in would be a massive understatement, and it put several sizeable holes in her theories that all of this was some sort of somewhat-elaborate trap. The girl ‘saving her’ from a rival acolyte, well, that was hardly the most creative thing to start a ploy with. It was actually fairly cliche, if she was going to be honest, and even the genuine animosity that the two had shown to each other wasn’t enough to convince her that it wasn’t some sort of ploy. Kory regaling her with all -literally, all, Force help her- the lurid details of what seemed to be every sexual, sensual, or vaguely emotional moment she and her self-proclaimed Mistress had experienced together was certainly stranger, but she could see it being the former(?) slaves…unique way of making Khai seem more approachable, sympathetic, and reasonable.
But this? By the time Khai had dragged herself into the jail and passed her the items she needed to break out of this cell, it was obvious that she had been through the fucking wringer. At least two blaster wounds, what looked like lightning exposure, burns and scorchmarks on her clothing -which was practically in tatters-, several vibroblade wounds, and a stench of fire and roasted flesh that clung to her like a cloak.
“Force, what happened to you, stud?” Vette asked the question they both were thinking for her, as Khai sat on a nearby bench and slumped against the wall, clearly exhausted and on her last fumes of fuel.
“Oh, my Overseer isn’t my biggest fan. He promised two acolytes and a dozen or so slaves that they could go home unharmed if they made sure Tulak Hord’s tomb became my own. They waited until I was injured and exhausted from everything else I was dealing with before they jumped me, and unfortunately they got a few hits in.” she drawled, sounding less ‘casually confident’ and more ‘drunkenly slurring’, which was definitely a bad sign when it came to an injured person.
"You should get to a medbay," Vette said, her voice pitched lower now, her cheerful, teasing nature entirely absent. She'd seen enough injuries in her time to know when someone was running on nothing but spite and stubbornness. "Like, immediately."
"Can't. Not yet." Khai shook her head, wincing at the movement. "I need to get you out first, miss commando, because no matter how creative you get in hiding those things -and I’m sure you could get very creative- they’ll catch on eventually, and I don’t think either of us would survive that. So go ahead and get yourself out while I use that emergency kit to patch myself up enough to escort you out.”
“Have you got a plan for that?” she responded, conceding immediately to the other woman’s wishes and starting to fiddle with the cage mechanisms. She was right after all, even if she hid the tools in the shadows behind her cage or inside her sex, both things she was perfectly willing to do if it meant escaping, she wasn’t sure that she could keep that up for very long without getting caught.
"Of course I have a plan, love." Khai replied cockily with a wink, though her confident -desperately trying to be flirtatious- tone was somewhat undermined by the way she gasped and grimaced as she pressed a kolto patch against the worst of her wounds. "I'm going to walk your lovely ass right through the front door."
“Walk me right out the front door, huh? And no one is going to catch on to that?” the commando’s tone was, perhaps, most politely described as ‘curious’, thought her cheeks were a bit pink at the flirting.
“Most of the Academy guards are busy helping put down the slave rebellion I had to wade through to get your stuff, the only people left really are the Inquisitors, Knash, and the Dark Honor Guard. The Guard guard the Academy from assault, they won’t move an inch outside of that duty. Knash and the Inquisitors are all busy in other cells at the moment, and no one else really knows what you look like. Some different clothes and my reputation will do us well enough for now.”
“Your reputation?” was the next, hesitant question, as the door clicked open and she stepped out, and Khai smirked at her with a certain gleam in her eye, a gleam that made the commando feel both warmth and a desire to cover her breasts and groin. Not with disgust or anger or discomfort, though, but shyness, and she absently wondered at the effect this Sith was having on her.
"My reputation. For being particularly... libidinous, I suppose." Khai clarified, wincing as she applied a kolto patch to her shoulder, smirking faintly at two pairs of arched eyebrows. “You’re pretty, you’re in bad shape, you’re naked. People will assume that you’re a slave or something I’ve taken for myself and not worry about it. Everyone already knows Kory is mine, and that I’m fucking Malora too. What’s one more pretty girl? They’ll see what they want to see and put it out of their minds, which gives us the advantage.”
The commando stared at her for a long moment, clearly processing everything she'd just heard, and wondering just what the appropriate response would be: approval at the cunning audacity or outrage at the ‘demeaning’ nature of it all. "So your plan is to... pretend I'm your sex slave?"
"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds rather crude, love. You need to widen your gaze a bit, you might enjoy it. Anyway," Khai drawled, forcing herself to stand despite her body's protests, cutting herself off briefly with a hiss of pain and a stagger that had the commando darting across the room to brace her up. After a moment of steadying herself, she continued. "I prefer to think of it as utilizing social assumptions to our mutual advantage. Besides, it's not like we have many other options right now. Unless you fancy fighting your way out through several dozen Sith, including all the Academy staff?"
"I'm not exactly in fighting shape myself," the commando admitted, gesturing to her bruised, unclothed body. "And I don't have any weapons."
"Precisely. Now, let's get you into these," Khai said, pulling out a bundle of clothes she'd stashed in her pack. "They're not much, but they'll cover the essentials. Leaving you naked would certainly sell things, but as attractive as that idea is, naked on Korriban would be a good way to die horribly or suffer irreparable harm, and I’d rather not have such beauty tarnished.”
“Kory warned us about you, you know.” the commando didn’t try to restrain her sarcasm, and -after a brief moment of hesitation-, turned away from the injured acolyte to start dressing. The fact that it meant, when pulling her ‘new’ pants on, that she was bending over to display her pussy to the woman that was saving her life, liberty, and chastity from Force-only-knew-what was, obviously, something that hardly bore thinking on. She certainly wasn’t a little bit turned on by the idea, and the blush on her face naturally had everything to do with the teasing whistle Vette let loose with and nothing at all to do with anything else.
“If I know my Kory, she didn’t warn you about a damn thing, she praised me to high heaven and then invited you to join in.” Khai chuckled tiredly, turning towards the door. “Come on, let’s get this done fast, before anyone that would actually realize there is a problem gets back.”
"I deeply resent how accurate that is," the commando muttered, adjusting the loose-fitting shirt that hung off one shoulder. It was clearly meant for someone with a more substantial frame, which meant it was probably Khai's. The pants at least had a drawstring, allowing her to cinch them tight enough to stay on her hips.
Khai grinned weakly, her eyes briefly unfocused before she shook herself back to alertness. "I'm perceptive like that. It's part of my charm."
"Along with your humility, right?" Vette added with a smirk, from her own cell, smiling at the commando. “Get home safe, babe, and don’t worry about me. I’ll just seduce Khai into saving me like he saved Kory. After all, she seems to have a thing for redheads.”
"Exactly right." Khai agreed with a laugh as she started from the room, not denying it for even a moment, and the commando lingered for a long moment before hesitantly following. It wasn’t easy, making herself seem downtrodden and submissive, not when her every instinct was reminding her that she was walking through a semi-literal valley of death, but she caught sight of Khai. Despite her injuries, despite her exhaustion and the nerves that she had to be feeling, the slave acolyte wasn’t showing any sign of weakness. Her back was straight, her stride was -outside of the odd hitch, and admittedly much shorter than it ought to be- steady, and she had a lazy, confident smirk on her lips. Taking a deep breath to settle herself, she slumped her shoulders, ducked her head -letting her hair fall like a curtain to shroud her face- and started shuffling along behind Khai, occasionally wringing her hands like she was anxious.
Their exit from the prison wing went exactly as Khai had predicted, perhaps unsurprisingly. The remaining guards, those few who weren't occupied with the slave rebellion or other urgent matters, barely spared them a second glance. One particularly bold guard did let his eyes linger on the commando a bit too long, only to snap his attention elsewhere when Khai's hand drifted casually to her lightsaber, and he looked away quickly with fear in his eyes. The message she had sent him was as clear as it was silent: look all you want, but this one is mine.
She really shouldn’t feel something throb in her chest at that. Gods, what had the Sith done to her?
"Keep your head down, love." Khai murmured as they approached the main atrium. "We're almost through."
The commando nodded minutely, maintaining her submissive posture while stealing glances at her surroundings. Despite her current predicament, the professional in her couldn't help but catalog potential escape routes, defensive positions, and the general layout of the Academy. Information that might prove useful to the Republic someday, if she survived long enough to report back, and if they ever had the opportunity to strike at Korriban. Though, if they did, she would make sure that everyone knew that the Academy was as full of the Empire’s victims as any other world in the galaxy. Something she never would have believed before this whole ordeal, but after everything that she had seen and heard since arriving, it’s something that she would never be able to forget.
Two Dark Honor Guards flanked the massive entrance doors, their masked faces betraying nothing of their thoughts as Khai approached with her, their heads barely turning as the pair passed them by. Force, they were so still, it was like looking at statues, and despite everything she was mildly impressed. The self-control and discipline that they clearly possessed had to be incredible. Once again, it was just like her rescuer had said: that Honor Guard didn’t care about them in the least, because they weren’t’ attacking the Academy.
The blinding Korriban sun hit them as they stepped outside, the dry heat immediately wrapping around them like a scorching blanket. The commando squinted against the harsh light, momentarily disoriented after days in the dimly lit prison cells, and she knew she was going to have to get the medics to look at them in addition to…everything else. in the face of what had happened, though, it was barely a footnote. It had worked, it had really worked. They had literally just walked out the front door.
"Don't look so surprised." Khai murmured with a soft laugh, her voice barely audible as they descended the Academy steps. "The hardest part is always making it look like you belong. People rarely question what they expect to see. Especially people in power, because that would require paying more attention to you than you deserve, cockroaches that you are."
There was nothing that she could say in response to that, or to the sardonic familiarity with which the other woman had said it either. They walked in silence for several minutes, Khai leading them away from the main paths where acolytes and overseers might be traveling, and she couldn’t help but notice how the Sith woman's steps were becoming increasingly uneven, her breathing more labored with each passing minute. The kolto patches were clearly not enough to counteract her injuries.
"You're getting worse." she whispered, keeping her head down but moving closer to support her as best she could while maintaining their cover, and Khai laughed raspily.
“Just a bit yes, but we’re almost to your equipment. You can make it to your extraction point without me, right?”
"You want me to leave you?" she whispered incredulously, her grip on Khai tightening unconsciously. "After everything you've done to get me out, you want me to just leave you behind?"
"That was rather the point, love," Khai replied, her voice growing fainter. "I didn't go through all this trouble just to have you captured again because I collapsed halfway to your extraction point. Besides, I have to get back to the Academy eventually—preferably before I bleed out. Besides, once you’re safely away, I’ll can call Kory to help me get back. Since it’s not part of a trial, the Overseers can’t complain about it."
They reached a small outcropping of rocks, sheltered from view of both the Academy and the main paths. Khai gestured weakly toward a bundle partially concealed beneath a flat stone.
"Your gear. Blaster, armor, comlink—everything I could find. Datapad, too, of course. Make sure it’s in good working order and unmodified before you hand it off to your superiors.” the acolyte listed off, pushing her away and leaning against the rocky wall for a moment, visibly gathering her strength before turning back the way that they came. “Good luck, and I hope that, if we meet again, it’s for a good reason and ends well. I would hate for either of us to be forced to fight the other.”
“…if I invite you to come home with me, you won’t, will you?” the commando said softly, reluctance and approval and acceptance warring in her tone and in her heart, and Khai flashed her a small smile over her shoulder.
“Leave Kory behind? I couldn’t bear it, not even for you, love.”
“But you could…you could leave all of this behind! Why stay with the people who’ve tortured you, hurt you…!” she protested, only to fall silent as Khai smiled at her again, this time so softly she was struck dumb by the sight.
“I could, yes, but I shouldn’t. You’ll understand in time, I promise. Now, get out of here, and remember to check your datapad. Get home safely, Miss Shan, and try to avoid letting the Empire catch you again. Next time, someone might actually recognize your bloodline, and it would break my heart for you to suffer the fate that would come for you then. May the Force be with us both.” she said, and Fay ‘Shepard’ Shan, Republic Army, was stunned into a silence that lasted until Vestara Khai had long left her sight.
Comments
HistoricalHijinks
She isn't a Shan, canonically, she's just a random person. But both Bastila Shan and her descendant Satele Shan, who is Grandmaster of the Order in SWTOR, also have Jennifer Hale as their VA. So, since Satele and The Trooper have share a VA, and we already know Satele can have non-force sensative kids, I thought to myself: Lets make the trooper Theron's twin and Satele's kid!
heh
I never played the commando route, but I know it’s voiced by the illustrious Jennifer Hale, which is almost certainly why you gave her the nickname “Shepard.” Had no idea she was a Shan, though. I ought to actually do a play through one of these days.
TheCoolest7248
I really want an Interlude where shan reports her encounter with Khai now. Jesus, that was a cliffhanger.
