A Mother's Touch

AN UNWANTED EASEMENT

Well-armed with heavy blasters and eager to prove their worth, the crew of the Ghtroc freighter were hired mercenaries, not Sith. The Stranger felt their zeal broiling on the periphery of his senses. They were waiting to ambush him. In no mood for a prolonged battle with undeserving opponents, he walked right into their trap.

Blocking their laser fire with his lightsaber, the Stranger used Force-push to knock them back against the bulkhead wall in the rear of the cargo bay. Not used to his newly enhanced powers, he pushed them so hard their bodies left indentations in the metal. Not fully in control, he unintentionally prolonged the kinetic effect, which pulverized what was left of their bodies. Like wet sacks of fruit, they slid off the walls and onto the deckplates.

One unfamiliar presence remained in the hold. He was dressed in a black uniform that might be designated for an officer due to the fine cut of the fabric. But the man wore no apparent identification or insignia to tell who or what he might be. He was an older Human, fit by his build, well into his fifties or sixties. A gold lightsaber hilt dangled from his belt.

Arms folded over his chest, he sat on a cargo skiff with his legs crossed. A small shipping crate sat below his feet. He applauded the Stranger, clapping adamantly, the sound muffled by his leather gloves. When he stopped, the silence returned to the darkened hold.

The Stranger reignited his lightsaber.

"No need for that," the man said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I have no intention of engaging you." He grinned, his teeth pure white, the canines unusually pointed. "I just spent millions to have this ship refurbished. This vessel actually has a built-in hyperdrive. Can you imagine that? An actual working hyperdrive versus those annoying transport rings?" He shook his head, more concerned by the aesthetics of the ship than the lightsaber advancing on him.

"My name is Darth Czirneck, and this..." he swept his hands around, "this is my base of operations. I've had the most delightful time watching you in action." He pushed the crate at his feet forward with the toe of his tall boot. "I know what you've come for, or at least I can guess. And I am willing to part with it. No fuss required. We'll call it...an investment in our future friendship."

"I don't need your friendship," the Stranger said with menace.

"No, I don't suppose you do," Czirneck whispered. "But you will, when the Jedi Order comes for her head and then for yours. And they will. As a Sith, you are a not some mild irritant to them. Your very existence is a prime concern. But this—" He shook his head with admiration, grinned, and slapped his thigh. "This is an aberration the Jedi will seek to utterly obliterate. You will need refuge, and I want you to know if you come here, you will find it." Czirneck stood and picked up the crate. He extended his arms to the Stranger. "I've spent an enormous amount of resources finding this, but I think it will come to better use in your hands." He winked. "Or hers?"

The Stranger accepted the crate, knowing fully well he intended to ditch it after taking the precious cargo inside to avoid any chance of tracking devices.

"Until we meet again, Stranger," Czirneck said with a pleasant chuckle. He sat back down on a cargo crate, hands in the air.

Backing out of the cargo bay, the Stranger stepped down the ramp and vanished into the shadows.