A full day and night of playing space nurse, and I'm still not sure if I'm hallucinating this whole thing. The bacta tank glows an eerie blue in Jo-Bali's dimly lit hideout, casting shadows across the walls as I shovel another spoonful of what passes for food into my mouth. It tastes like cardboard soaked in battery acid, but hey.
The Sith woman, Vaelix, if I heard correctly, floats serenely in the transparent liquid, her crimson skin taking on a purple hue through the blue bacta. Getting her in there was a nightmare and a half. I had to strip her down to her undergarments, which felt like a violation even though it was medically necessary, then wrestle with tubes and wires and control panels labeled in languages I somehow both do and don't understand.
"The wonders of having two sets of memories," I mutter, tossing the empty ration pack aside.
I check the tank's readouts again. The wound on her side is healing remarkably fast. Bacta is apparently some miracle goo that makes modern medicine look like leeches and bloodletting. The hideous gash from the lightsaber is already closing, flesh knitting together like time-lapse photography.
My fingers hover over the control panel. Part of me wants to try to wake her up right now and demand answers. How the hell does she know my real name?
"Too many coincidences," I say to the unconscious Sith. "First I die, then I wake up here, and now you? Calling me by a name nobody in this galaxy should know?"
She doesn't answer, of course. Just floats there, breathing through the mask attached to her face, looking unfairly beautiful for someone who nearly got bisected yesterday.
Despite Jo-Bali's impressive medical setup, the living accommodations leave a lot to be desired. The only place to sleep is a pathetic excuse for a cot pushed against the far wall, a threadbare mat on a rusty frame that creaks if you so much as look at it funny. For a guy with a bacta tank and enough rations to survive the apocalypse, he really skimped on the bedroom furniture.
I sigh, rubbing my eyes as exhaustion settles into my bones. My thoughts drift to Bana's ship, The Handsome Fellow. My dead mentor's pride and joy sits less than a kilometer from here, a circular craft with sleek gray hull and blue accents. Not exactly inconspicuous, but reliable according to the memories rattling around in my head.
"Could just leave," I mutter, glancing at Vaelix's floating form. "Take the ship and go... somewhere."
It's within walking distance, and according to the hideout's surveillance system, there's no sign of Vaelix's ship anywhere in the area. She must have arrived by other means, or her vessel is hidden somewhere beyond the camera range.
I close my eyes, sifting through Rax's memories like flipping through a stranger's photo album. I think I could fly The Handsome Fellow if pressed. Definitely not well enough to pull off any fancy maneuvers if someone started shooting at me, but enough to punch in coordinates and let the autopilot do most of the work.
Not that I'm in any rush to leave. Where would I even go? It's not like I have a home to return to. According to the memories I've been able to piece together, Rax Orlen is a nobody, an orphan from Corellia with no family and fewer friends. Just a lonely kid who got lucky enough to be taken under Bana Sobill's wing at eighteen.
"At least this body's twenty-five, though," I say to the unconscious Sith. "Same age, different universe. That's something, right?"
The bacta tank bubbles in response, its soft humming the only sound in the bunker besides my voice. I've been talking to myself, or to her, for hours now. It's either that or go completely insane trying to process everything alone.
"You know what's really messed up?" I continue, pacing around the tank. "I'm mourning a guy I barely knew. I mean, Rax knew him. Worked with him for years. But me? I met Bana for all of two minutes before his head got vaporized."
I stop in front of the tank, watching Vaelix's serene face. "And yet a small piece of me still feels like I lost someone important. Like there's this... hole where he should be."
I wonder about my old life. Are my parents sitting around a kitchen table somewhere in Boston, mourning a son who got hit by a car? Did that kid make it to school after nearly becoming roadkill, or is he in therapy now, traumatized by watching me get flattened? Is my apartment still there, gathering dust, bills piling up at the door?
Is Kanye still antisemitic?
That reality is just continuing without me. It bums me out deeply.
I put down the empty ration container and lean back against the cold wall, letting my eyelids drift closed. Just for a minute. Just to rest.
A sharp crack jolts me from my almost-sleep. My eyes snap open to see Vaelix staring directly at me from inside the bacta tank. Her eyes intense, focused, fully conscious.
Before I can react, she flicks her wrist in a subtle, deliberate motion.
The tank explodes outward with a deafening boom, bacta fluid and transparisteel shards erupting in every direction. I throw my arms up instinctively, bracing for impact, but the deadly fragments never reach me. They hang suspended in the air mere inches from my face, trembling slightly as if held back by an invisible barrier.
"What the…" I choke out, watching as the shards slowly drop to the floor around me in a perfect circle, not a single one touching my skin.
Vaelix stands in the center of the destruction, dripping with blue bacta fluid, her crimson skin glistening in the emergency light. Her black undergarments cling to her athletic frame as she steps over the broken remnants of the tank.
"You stayed," she says, her voice husky from disuse but somehow exactly as I imagined it would sound. "You could have left, but you stayed with me."
I back up until I hit the wall, my heart hammering against my ribs. "You used the Force?" I stammer, pointing at the circle of debris around me.
A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "I would never let harm come to you."
"How considerate," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "Especially after you blew up the tank I spent hours setting up to save your life."
She tilts her head, those red eyes studying me with unnerving intensity. "It served its purpose."
She takes a step toward me, her movements smooth and predatory. I press myself harder against the wall, feeling like a cornered animal.
"You're afraid," she says, not a question but an observation. "Don't be."
"Easy for you to say," I manage. "You're not the one who just watched someone explode a tank with their mind."
Another step closer. "The Force flows strongly through me," she says, her voice dropping lower. "I can feel your confusion, your fear... but also your curiosity."
My mouth goes dry as she closes the distance between us. I should run. I should definitely run. But my legs refuse to cooperate, frozen in place by something more powerful than fear.
I suddenly feel an invisible pressure around my limbs, gentle but unyielding. My body lifts slightly off the ground, and I'm pulled toward her through the air like I weigh nothing at all.
"Wait, what are you…"
The question dies in my throat as she reaches up, one hand curling around the back of my neck. The other floats mere inches from my chest, not touching but somehow I can feel the heat of her palm through my shirt.
"What are you doing?" I repeat, heart hammering so hard I'm certain she can hear it.
Her red eyes lock with mine, intense and hungry. "Something I've waited a very long time to do, Ty-Lar."
Before I can correct her, before I can do anything at all, she closes the final distance between us. Her lips press against mine, hot and insistent. The kiss is deep and possessive, nothing like the hesitant first kisses I remember from Earth. This is something else entirely, a claiming.
My eyes fly wide open in shock, but she doesn't stop. Her invisible grip holds me firmly in place as her mouth moves against mine, demanding a response. Despite everything, I find myself responding. Something primal and instinctive takes over, and I'm kissing her back with an intensity that surprises even me.
When she finally pulls away, I'm gasping for air like I've run a marathon. She keeps me suspended, her eyes studying my face with a satisfaction that borders on smugness.
"You taste exactly as I always knew you would," she murmurs, her thumb tracing my lower lip.
"You…" I struggle to form coherent thoughts. "You can't just… How do you know my name? The real one, I mean."
Her brow furrows slightly. "Real one?"
"Tyler," I say. "Or Ty-Lar, as you called me. Not Rax."
She tilts her head, her expression shifting from smug satisfaction to something more complex. The invisible grip around my body tightens slightly as she lowers me until my feet touch the ground, but she doesn't release me.
"Your name is Ty-lar," she says simply, her tone leaving no room for argument.
"Tyler," I correct her, the syllables feeling strangely foreign on my tongue after days in this new reality. "That was my name. Back on Earth."
She scoffs, a sharp exhalation that somehow manages to convey both amusement and irritation. "No. Your name is Ty-lar. It always has been."
The certainty in her voice sends a chill down my spine. She steps closer, one hand coming up to trace the line of my jaw with surprising gentleness, contradicting the power I can feel humming through her.
"I've dreamt about you my whole life," she whispers, her red eyes searching mine. "This moment... and others like it."
"What?" I manage, my voice barely audible even to my own ears.
Her fingers continue their exploration of my face, mapping each feature like she's committing it to memory or perhaps confirming what she already knows.
"I've seen many paths for us," she continues, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. "Sometimes blissful, other times sorrowful. The Force has shown me countless routes our lives might take, but in every vision, every possible future..." She presses her forehead against mine, her horns framing my face. "We're always together."
Her proximity is intoxicating, the heat of her body radiating against mine. Despite the absolute insanity of the situation, I can't deny the pull I feel toward her.
"We make each other happy," she whispers against my lips. "It's our destiny."
I swallow hard, trying to maintain some semblance of rational thought. "Is this some kind of Jedi thing?" I ask.
Her expression darkens instantly, eyes flashing with dangerous fire. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees.
"Jedi?" she hisses, the word dripping with venom.
Without warning, my airway constricts. My hands fly to my throat, clawing at the invisible force crushing my windpipe. My feet leave the ground as I'm lifted into the air, suspended by nothing but her will.
"Never," she snarls, her beautiful face contorted with rage, "compare me to those sanctimonious hypocrites."
Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as I struggle for air. My lungs burn, desperate for oxygen that can't get past the Force grip on my throat.
Just as the darkness begins to close in, the pressure vanishes. I collapse to the floor, gasping and coughing, dragging precious air into my starved lungs.
"I'm sorry," I gasp, hands still at my throat. The terror is white-hot in my veins, my heart thrashing against my ribs like it's trying to escape. "I didn't mean to upset you."
She towers over me, her anger cooling as rapidly as it flared. The switch is jarring. One moment murderous, the next composed.
"I am Vaelix Draal," she says, voice steady as she extends a hand to help me up. "And you will become my husband."
I stare at her outstretched fingers, then up at her face, trying to process the whiplash-inducing shift from attempted murder to marriage proposal. My gaze darts around the room, seeking something, anything that might make sense of this situation. The destroyed bacta tank. The scattered equipment. The exit that feels impossibly far away.
"Alright," I manage, accepting her hand mostly because I don't want my trachea crushed again. Her skin is fever-hot against mine as she pulls me to my feet with effortless strength.
"So you're a Sith Lord?" I ask, desperate to understand exactly what kind of deadly force-wielder I'm dealing with.
"An apprentice," she corrects, running a hand through her wet hair, slicking it back from her horns. "At least until yesterday, when a fellow apprentice tried to kill me." Her eyes narrow. "Tried and failed. Now I suppose I'm an acolyte again."
I nod slowly, racking my brain for what little Star Wars knowledge I have. I was never the superfan that some of my college roommates were, though I have seen all the movies and shows.
"So are you like... Darth Vaelix?" I venture, trying to remember how Sith naming conventions work.
Her brow furrows in genuine confusion. "What?"
"You know, Darth? Like Darth Vader, Darth Maul, Darth..." I trail off as her expression grows increasingly perplexed.
"I don't understand what you're saying," she says, studying me with those intense red eyes. "There is no 'Darth' in my name."
"But all Sith are called…" I stop myself, remembering I'm not in a movie. I'm clearly missing something. "Never mind."
Vaelix steps closer, her eyes locking with mine. "Don't concern yourself with the past, Ty-lar," she says, her voice soft but commanding. "What came before is irrelevant. I am all that matters for you now."
The intensity in her gaze makes my skin prickle. Her words hang in the air between us, less a suggestion than a decree. I swallow hard, trying to process the implications of what she's saying.
Could I even escape someone like her if I wanted to? The thought creeps into my mind like a chill. She just choked me with her mind without breaking a sweat. She's not Darth Vader-level terrifying, but any space wizard could snap me like a twig if they wanted to.
"You're very... direct," I say, taking a careful step back, trying to create some distance between us. "Most people date before proposing marriage."
Her lips curve into a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We are beyond such trivial customs, Ty-lar. The Force has bound our fates together."
"Right. The Force." I rub my throat, the phantom sensation of her invisible grip still lingering. "And if I don't feel the same way?"
Something dangerous flickers across her features. "You will." It's not a threat, not exactly. She says it with the same certainty someone might use to declare that the sun will rise tomorrow.
"Look, I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a Sith's subordinate. I'm just a regular guy. I don't know anything about the Force or lightsabers or…"
My back hits the wall with a thud. Not because I walked into it, but because I'm suddenly flying through the air. My feet dangle inches above the ground as Vaelix holds me pinned against the cold metal with nothing but her will. Her eyes burn like twin suns as she stalks toward me, one hand extended, fingers slightly curled.
"Enough talking," she says, her voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "You think too much, Ty-lar."