the_starkiller: (Saber | High Guard)
Puffing out a breath, Galen dragged his sleeve across the perspiration on his forehead. He swallowed, throat a little dry, and it finally occurred to him just how thirsty he was. But he couldn't allow himself to reward his body's needs like that, not in the middle of training. That was how he had been taught, session after session and year after year under Vader's tutelage. Granted, the Sith Lord that he had served had turned out to be using his Secret Apprentice as little more than a hunting dog meant to flush out Vader's prey, but it had made him a skilled and powerful Force user.

Now, Galen meant to see if he could do the same.

Focusing his mind, he felt the crackling internal warmth of the Dark Side pushing back his fatigue. Galen thumbed the control on one of the training lightsabers he had constructed and watched as the bright red blade came to life with a familiar snap-hiss sound.

He turned to face toward the center of the training ring. There wasn't a lot of room for one in the ship's cargo hold, but it would do. R'alla was an entertaining and luxurious planet, but after a few days without contact with the Emperor, Galen had gotten restless. Training was his idea. He knew that Mara Jade had power in the Force that the Emperor had never even hinted to her about. She deserved to be able to use it.

Galen looked intently at the woman who, for the moment, was his trainee and not his lover, waiting for her to ignite the red blade of her own training weapon. "You ready?"

Not waiting for the answer, Galen lunged forward to strike.
the_starkiller: (Galen | Unsure About This)
OOC: Follows this thread.

Galen pulled at his collar, trying to get himself some breathing room. Ten seconds later, he did it again, to just as little effect. He understood that it was a losing battle, trying to get comfortable in this new skin, but it wasn't one he was willing to give up just yet. With more than a little chagrin, Galen realized just how well that idea summed up most of his life.

As he and Mara approached the hotel, Galen's eyes picked out at least two entry points they could have used without rousing the least bit of suspicion. A little push of the Force to influence a few lazy-looking security guards and they could have been inside the hotel and free to roam almost totally undetected. But no, for once, it was Mara whose plan involved a kind of frontal assault: walking in the front doors of the ballroom with forged invitations.

He felt like the country cousin, invited to the big city. If Galen had been from one of the backwater Rim planets like Tattooine , he couldn't have felt more out of place in his stiffly-ironed tunic and trousers, tall leather boots that were so new they almost creaked with every step, and a collar that felt as though it were digging into the skin under his chin. Mara, for her part, not only looked stunningly beautiful, but utterly at home. If he hadn't known better-- and, truth be told, have been having particularly enthusiastic sex with her on a regular basis since leaving the medical ship-- he would never have recognized her.

They were ushered into the main ballroom and Galen gratefully took an offered glass of some bubbling alcoholic drink. As he raised it to his lips, he thought he caught a familiar silhouette out of the corner of his eye. Shaking the phantom off to nerves, he glanced back at Mara. "I hear Rion VII isn't one hundred percent stable, tectonically. The whole hotel could be leveled in seconds and no one would suspect," he whispered, half-joking.
the_starkiller: (Starkiller | Apprentice Costume)
The box shook as Starkiller slowly guided it across the training room. It didn't weigh more than a few dozen kilograms, but he found himself straining with the effort of simply keeping it off the ground and moving. It was ridiculous. Months had passed since he'd awoken on the medlab table, once more saved from death by the will of a Sith Lord intent on using him and his strength for evil deeds. Months since he'd had to begin getting used to the mechanical right arm and leg that had replaced his ruined limbs.

The Force didn't reside in his hand, and yet when Starkiller tried to focus through gestures with his artificial arm, the result was a weak echo of his former ability. With his left hand, it was as though nothing had changed. His Master had punished him time and again for such weakness, and Starkiller had improved, but he was far from the warrior he had been.

Finally, the box crashed to the floor. Before Starkiller could curse himself, he was slammed to the floor, onto his knees with the Force. The double doors to the training room hissed open and his Master, the Emperor Palpatine entered. "Starkiller, you continue to disappoint me. You will need to do far better if you wish to take a true place at my side."

Starkiller bowed his head. "I am sorry, my Master."

The Emperor circled near, and Starkiller's flesh chilled. "I care nothing for your apologies, only for your usefulness. Which brings me to your first assignment as my operative."

"What is your bidding, my Master?"

"You are to pilot a cloaked Sith Interceptor to the planet Correllia. There you will rendezvous with one of the Emperor's Hands on a mission I wish completed immediately. Thus, you and the Hand both have orders to assassinate the same individual, to see who will prevail. You will fulfill my wishes or both of you will perish."

"Yes, my Master."

Palpatine was gone a moment later, and with one last hateful look at the box on the floor, Starkiller left, boarding the Sith Interceptor and heading toward Correllia.

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Starkiller/The Secret Apprentice/Galen Marek

January 2010

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