Two years before Eden Prime, Saren enlists Nihlus’s help to get an old friend out of some serious trouble. But it’s only the tip of the iceberg. How far will he go to ensure the success and secrecy of his misguided quest?
This is the story I timidly announced some time ago. I’ve been brewing the concept for it since 2013, but only dared try my hand with it now. Writing it was surprisingly smooth and easy (though it did take three months of daily work). It seems I’ve forgotten, again, what a joy it is to write new stories, compared to the struggle of continuing and/or salvaging the old. Despite the dark themes, The Precedent was a breath of fresh air.
Read it here, or on AO3.
Image: I was wrong by PaleCaesar
Saren woke to a nauseating headache. His eyelids were heavy as if shot with lead and it took him a while to lift them. He was back in the cabin. In the very center of the crime scene, in fact. Realizing he was on that same bed, lying on that pillow, he tried to crawl away, but his limbs lacked the strength and all he did was shuffle among the sheets.
“Calm down,” Nihlus said. “You’re alright.”
He was there, of course. Sitting on the chair with his feet propped on the desk. He was always there, for better or for worse.
Continue reading The Waking
I knew it, Nihlus thought. I bloody knew it.
Under the white sheet, Elethea lay, dead. Nihlus carefully wiped the crusted droplet of blood from the corner of her cold lips. Her arms were folded somewhat clumsily over her chest. The deathly stiffness was already settling in.
Continue reading The Aftermath
As the rented skycar sped away along the misty Citadel airway with Nihlus and Eleni tucked inside, Saren’s anxiety mounted. He retreated into the airlock, closed the outer hatch and locked it with a code Nihlus didn’t have. The ship was his, for the time. His and Elthe’s.
Continue reading The Deed
When Saren entered the cabin, short of breath and pale as death, Nihlus thought he might soon find himself with not one, but two sick people on his hands. Agitated with that special flavor of frustration parents exhibit when they’re prevented from reaching their children, Elethea tried to shuffle her legs over the edge of the bed and get up the second time in as many minutes, cried in pain and threw herself back on the pillow, cursing in her gibberish dream-speak.
Continue reading Common Interest