Rusted Veins
Posted on Mon Oct 20th, 2025 @ 5:03am by Amare & Bomoor Thort & Thane & Reave & G2-O7
1,859 words; about a 9 minute read
Chapter:
Chapter VIII: Broken Chains
Location: Cloud City, Bespin
Timeline: Week Two (After "Whispers of Industry" )
OLD
Temptation crossed Amare's thoughts as she briefly gazed at the relaxed mercenary Jawa's smoke break, feeling a bit of a craving for just one smooth drag on a cigarra. She shook her head from her recreational desires and focused on their objectives. There would be time for smokes and tea later.
"We'll keep our eyes peeled," she promised Bomoor as her mind felt something different about Bomoor. He had indeed changed losing his mother. Amare understood that kind of heavy loss all too well, and, by extension, so did her master.
NEW
Thane, hooded again, fell into step beside Amare as they moved deeper into this once-luxurious complex, his voice low enough for her alone. “You felt it, too,” he said, not a question. “Bomoor’s edge is no longer hesitation; it is focus. Frustration sharpened to purpose.” A brief glance, a flicker of approval that did not soften his pale features. “What we spoke of on Irrikut wasn't theory. It breathes now between us.” He let the word hang a beat, then added, quieter still, “And remember what we vowed: first the Cult...”
"...then the galaxy," she finished for him with a hushed, yet firm resolute voice. She held back her concerns about where Bomoor would fit into Thane's grand schemes for the future.
G2’s sharp trill cut across the corridor. The astromech had braked before an unremarkable expanse of wall, being just stained durasteel, a dead maintenance placard half-sheared from its fasteners. At first there was nothing, but then they aw it: a hairline seam catching the faintest glow, a panel flush to the touch, invisible unless you were looking for it. The little droid’s scomp jack slid home with a click, lights fluttered once, twice, and somewhere within the wall an ancient relay groaned itself awake. A shudder rippled through the bulkhead; stale air bled out in a thin, cold breath.
Further along, an open archway yawned into a larger artery of the city further along. A gust rolled through it from the outer superstructure, carrying the scent of tibanna and oxidised metal, presenting them with two paths. One hidden and tight, likely service routes spidering under the skin - the other a direct vein toward the central mass.
Thane weighed them a moment. He looked to the others, eyes bright beneath the hood’s shadow. "A divergence, or stay as one? If anything still commands this place, it will feel us wherever we step, I assume.” A slight tilt of the head toward the camouflaged panel. “The maintenance run may carry us beneath alarms, but probably as many, if not more, eyes to watch us." He cast a faintly disdainful look at G2. “The machine seems to favour descent."
As though signaling agreement, the hidden panel slid open with a little judder and G2 warbled in agreement. Peering in, the organs of this great city were laid bare: pipes and conduits were packed in, making the movable area tight and narrow as it stretched into the darkness within. Yet now, with the entrance open, they felt a hint of warm air rising to oppose the cold outer breeze. It was faint, but teased at life deep within.
Craning over to observe the, Bomoor observed, "While I don't doubt our little astromech, I'm going to be quite slow in such a tight space. If it narrows any further, I may not be able to carry on at all. But I think this path should be investigated by those more nimble than I."
He turned to look at the waning orange light casting longer shadows across the wide walkways, before adding:
"In a city this big, there will be other routes down and perhaps it is better to divide their gaze, rather than have us all pinched together in one place."
"Reave and I can traverse that smaller path," Amare offered, comfortable in tight spaces and always preferred the more indirect route to any destination. "Unless our Jawa friend has any objections to facing the unknown."
Reave, apparently indeed having objections to Amare's offer, gave a rough series of jabbering Jawaese noises that were fairly indecipherable to them, aside perhaps G2. Regardless, it served as his answer.
The Red Raptor's self-appointed armourer shouldered his massive rifle and trudged past, the weapon’s barrel scraping a low metallic note along the wall. Whatever subtle path the Sith had suggested, he ignored it entirely, veering instead toward the broader corridor ahead, being the one yawning deeper toward the city’s heart, even without either Mentis or Bomoor yet following.
G2’s dome swiveled sharply, letting out a protesting burst of binary that almost sounded like exasperation.
Thane’s gaze followed the Jawa as he vanished into the gloom, a faint curl of disdain threatening to pull at one corner of his mouth. “So be it,” he murmured.
He turned toward Bomoor then, the faint orange haze catching the edges of his hood. “The high road may yet suit you, Bomoor," he said evenly. “I think we're bound to face some cult monstrosity in the bowels of this ancient station, but keep your wits on the upper decks, still." His eyes glanced past his Ithorian friend to Mentis nearby. "Of course, perhaps their old friend here will recall something useful from his glory days - with the right encouragement.” The edge in his tone was deliberate, a knife wrapped in courtesy, before it softened again, and he focused on Bomoor. A touch of their classic shared bravado entered his voice and he offered a small smile. “Stay in touch, as best as our comlinks will allow - and see you on the other side.”
Bomoor looked at his old friend for a moment, perhaps remembering a similar conversation in the past or maybe just pondering the situation a moment longer, before softening his eyes and nodding, "Of course. We know that the darkness can hide many ills, but so can the light. Watch your step as you progress and Mentis and I shall do the same."
With that, Thane looked to the maintenance shaft where G2 already waited, lights blinking expectantly. “Shall we go?” He said quietly to Amare, his voice lowering to something closer to resolve than command. “You and I will see what festers beneath. I would know what breathes down here, and I would rather have you at my side when we find it.”
He drew his cloak tighter, its folds shifting like smoke around him. “It feels too long since we fought together - even if I'd care for more manoeuvrability."
Though his dark apprentice did not expect this twist, Amare could not have been more pleased that it was Thane who ventured forth with her.
She bowed her head in both agreement and reverence and said, "It will be good to winnow cultist blood with you, master, but we must be mindful of traps. I will take point with G2."
G2 gave a sharp, eager chirp before rolling forward into the narrow dark, the light from its dome casting a dull glow over the pipes and cabling beyond. Thane followed, his shadow stretching long across the wall before it too was swallowed by the depths.
Descending into the bowels of Cloud City, the trio of Amare, Thane and G2 moved single file through the narrow artery that wound down into the ancient industrial strata. The walls closed in almost immediately cables like veins snaked along the durasteel, humming faintly with residual current, and the air thickened with the scent of hot metal and mineral dust. Each footfall echoed strangely, swallowed too soon, as though the structure itself were listening.
The deeper they went, the less the emergency strips and ancient fixtures provided. Soon, even the dull amber of the glowrods he and Amare held began to fade into insignificance against the subtle, unnatural illumination that seeped from the walls themselves. Faint glyphs—dozens, then hundreds—emerged from the darkness, carved into the metal in broad, sweeping strokes. They glowed as if still fresh, the edges shimmering like steel just pulled from the forge.
Such was their peculiar luminescence that the glyphs had the effect of not merely reflecting off the black swirls of her nictitating membranes covering her eyes, but rather revealing the eyes themselves underneath. It was a rare glimpse for Thane to see the aquatic truth beneath her natural ocular masks.
"What do you make of these, master?" She asked him, careful not to touch the glyphs.
Thane paused beside the Nautolan, golden eyes narrowing. The glyphs pulsed faintly, their light synchronising with something deeper - a rhythm beneath perception, not heard but felt. “They're warm,” he said softly. “But no heat source - no plasma residue. The Force runs through them. Old. Feral. Yet not bound to any ritual I recognise.” He reached his hand closer, feeling the radiating warmth lick against his palm, even within his glove. “It spreads through the durasteel, through the air itself.”
A soft, uncertain whistle escaped G2 as the astromech rotated in place, sensor arrays fluttering with static interference. Its photoreceptor dimmed and brightened in confusion, projecting small bursts of binary static that translated to little more than digital unease.
Thane continued, his voice quieter now, but with the weight of memory, eyes closed as he opened himself to the Force, drinking in all he could from this dark place. “This isn’t the same darkness we felt on Korriban. That world reeked of indulgence, desire, authority..." His tone hardened faintly. “This is more chaotic. Fervent and twisted."
Amare wanted to say it felt more like theft to her, but she held her tongue. The dark side belonged to no one but the only living two Sith in the galaxy.
He took a slow step forward, his cloak brushing the glowing walls, the air around him shimmering faintly with heat haze. “It reminds me more of Tython,” he said at last, opening his eyes. “When Bomoor and I stood within the ancient temple, facing the mad remnant of the One Sith. The Force there had curdled around that creature - cut loose from sanity and control. This feels the same... But there is something more, as if the ageing metal of this city remembers a pain older than the one now flooding its halls.”
He mused in that moment that Master Sotah would likely appreciate this considered awareness of the Force around him. Ironic, in some measure, that the dark side had brought him closer to the so-called 'Living Force'.
The tunnel opened fractionally ahead, revealing a deeper shaft descending toward the heart of the city. The glyphs spiralled around it in tight bands, growing denser and brighter, their warmth now a steady heat against their skin.
Thane looked down into the glowing throat of the machinery below, the first sound of distant grinding and faint, rhythmic hammering drifting upward to them. “Whatever they’re building or worshipping lies beneath us,” he murmured.
"They will soon learn their faith is woefully misguided," his apprentice quietly remarked in a low icy tone, her hand close to her lightsaber hilt.
TBC
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