Dismal’s skipray blastboat, named The Gamerunner, popped out of hyperspace, over his home planet of Enriton. The planet had a baby blue tint from the view of outer space, and seemed almost exactly like the planet of Naboo. What it was envisioned to be, in all reality.
I’m home, the Plagueian thought to himself, I’m really home.
He sat there, reminiscing on his childhood for some time, not noticing the dark blanket of space, and the bright diamonds that dotted the velvet cloth surrounding the starfighter the Kunian had obtained from his days as a squadron commander for the Zann Consortium. The spacecraft still had it’s name from it’s commissioned days on the dashboard. Thunder 1 of the Zann’s Thunder Squadron.
“What I’d give to never join that blasted criminal group…” the Knight mumbled. His guilt and damp sensation was interrupted by a series of beeps, and a voice coming from the comlink stuck in his ear.
“This is Carnu Glab, Enriton Security Department. Name, business, and ID codes please,” the cool, deep voice said. Sounded like a Zabrak.
Dismal got irritated, as he always did when someone disrespected him.
“This is Prince Dismal Visutor, son of King Saudu Visutor,” he said, emphasizing the prince.
“I’ll be the judge of that, once I see some ID codes,” Carnu responded in the coldest voice he could manage.
“Fine!” the Sith raised his voice, punching numerous buttons below the screen on the dash. A bar raced across the screen, and the words “Transference Complete” flashed.
“I’m sorry, your highness,” the security head replied, his voice quieter and meeker. “Clearance granted for Castle Jorda hangar bay.”
= = =
The Skipray assumed its landing position just before it settled to the ground. The cockpit window raised itself up with a smooth hiss. The Aedile stepped out, his cloak billowing slightly behind him.
A warm breeze caressed the man’s cheek as he stepped out of his spaceship. The hangar bay on Castle Jorda’s middle turret was reserved for highly honored guests, clearance was heavily moderated. He stared out, towards the capital city of the planet, Lobidian. It could be called a farming town. The only important buildings were Castle Jorda, and the Viridian Pavillion, which were seemingly close together. One could see the pavilion from where he was standing. The two buildings brought back more painful memories. How could he give up this life of ease and importance? The Kunian’s reminiscing was interrupted by a familiar voice.
“D…Dismal? Is it really you?” the smooth and slightly deep voice asked. The al’Tor turned on his heels to see his father, King of Enriton, staring him in the face.
“Father!” Dismal exclaimed. The Knight ran over to the man who supported him for so many years, and embraced him in a large hug.
“Son, so nice to see you again,” Saudu said, patting his son on the back. “The last time I saw you, you were a skinny seventeen year old boy, barely out of the family’s school.”
“I’ve worked out some,” Dismal said, punctuating his statement with a chuckle.
“Come, come! We must go to the grand hall, and feast!” the King yelled, voice echoing throughout the countryside. It was time for the midday meal, actually. The father and son exited the hangar bay, inside the halls of the royal palace.
“So, where have you been all of these years?” Saudu asked, his smile quickly creasing, a serious look crossing his face. “I would have expected something like this from Niman, but not you. You were always the one to favor politics and the perks of royalty.”
“Well, I guess I do owe you an explanation,” the Plagueian replied, and then ranted on. “That day we found the Zann Consortium outpost, we both joined. We both got command of a squadron, rather quickly. That’s where my ship came from.”
King Saudu nodded.
“The day the Republic sent those infantry units after the warehouse, we left with our squadrons. Niman and I separated for many years. He finally found me in my outpost on Tatooine, and invited me to live with him.”
“You’re living with Niman?!” Dismal’s father raised his voice, his grin returning. “Where is he?”
Dismal thought to himself. Should I tell him about our being Dark Jedi?
“We found a rather nice suite in the Jusadih system, in the core,” the Sith Aedile replied.
“The Jusadih system, never heard of it,” the elder of the pair said. Then, a look of amazement crossed the King’s face. “That thing, the tube, on your belt. Let me see it,” he said.
Dismal felt a drop of cold sweat form on his nose. He wants my lightsaber.
“Come one, let me see it,” Saudu said, beckoning his hand towards his own waist. Dismal, of course, did as he was told. His father already seemed upset about him leaving, without even a goodbye. He could always make up a Jedi story. His red trimmed Lion’s Claw hilt felt heavy in his hands as he dropped it in Saudu’s hands.
The King pressed his thumb on the ignition button, and the crimson blade sprang forth from its spot inside the hilt.
“Yowza!” Saudu said, dropping the weapon. It disengaged as part of it’s fail safe mechanism. “That’s one of those laser swords! The Jedi weapons!” he exclaimed. “Are you a Jedi?”