Unknown Location: Ship. Part 3.

"Great. Jabba. Is. Pleased. With. You," the mechanical voice of the translator droned, slowly and deliberately, standing on its metallic legs. "You. Have. Accomplished. What. Others. Could. Not. Proving. Your. Competence. The. Reward. Will. Be. Delivered. Shortly." Meanwhile, the massive slug lounged leisurely, surrounded by highly alluring Twi'lek girls. "The. Bar. Is. Fully. At. Your. Disposal. Drink. On. The. Great. Jabba. The. Hutt. Your. Credits. Will. Be. Brought. To. You. Shortly. Do. Not. Worry. About. That."

"Oh, Great Jabba the Hutt," Raphael bowed gracefully, displaying his respect. "This mission was child's play for us. Should you require our services again, don't hesitate to find us. We are always at your disposal!"

-?%: No%: "?)* %; _+ _*?»! — Jabba rumbled something in response, his massive body quivering.

"Great. Jabba. The. Hutt. Will. Keep. You. In. Mind," the droid immediately translated.

Sev'rance glanced around tensely during the brief exchange between her master and the Hutt. The slug's residence was not only filled with the service staff, consisting of strippers and waiters who likely didn't receive any tips, but also with a diverse group of mercenaries, who appeared to be Jabba's most trusted bounty hunters. The shooters eyed the newcomers with suspicion, their curiosity mingling with wariness. They were clearly surprised that someone had managed to extract money from Olg... Ah, if only they knew how exhausting it had been.

Among them were also individuals dressed less provocatively. At least Tann wasn't worried about the blasters hanging at their waists or slung across their backs, because there weren't any. They were likely here with bodyguards, to discuss business matters with the Hutt. Sev'rance knew better than anyone that it was business dealings that usually fed mercenaries, so their presence here was no surprise. It was always important to keep a finger on the pulse.

But what was worse was a familiar sensation. The dark emanations that had long saturated Dooku's base. She was intimately familiar with this feeling, so Tann easily determined that one of her former master's minions had come to meet Jabba—that's why she began to discreetly survey her surroundings, so as not to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Her caution paid off, as in the farthest and darkest corner, she noticed a blue-skinned Twi'lek with black tattoos on the long lekku wrapped around her neck. Few outside the enlightened would know these were Sith tattoos, so they paid her no mind. All other parts of her body were covered by a dark cloak.

"Shall we head to the bar?" Raphael beckoned.

Tann obediently followed her master. Since someone close to Dooku, whom she thought had perished during a mission, had shown up, it meant he needed something from Jabba. But what? It wasn't surprising to meet here, after all. The Confederacy needed to gain strength and entice systems to its side, and to do so, it needed to establish pathways. Besides the obvious reasons related to the war, there was another, more complex problem that Dooku needed to solve.

Should they be worried about her now? Unlikely. The master was quite successfully hiding his presence, and the artifact on the apprentice's finger had managed to conceal her from Dooku himself! So some resurrected student of the Count wouldn't even sense her right under her nose. Of course, Tann might throw a fit about not being Dooku's only apprentice—after all, the Twi'lek's presence already disproved her uniqueness—but right now, Cheesecake was more concerned about her own well-being, because if she caused any trouble, her master's punishment would be swift... Although her resentment toward the Count had only grown stronger.

"How great it will be to get drunk after a tough mission, right?" Raf asked casually, plopping onto a bar stool. "Hey, pour us your best!"

"Yes, sir," the droid responded emotionlessly, starting to prepare a sophisticated and expensive cocktail.

"We've got a problem..." Tann muttered quietly.

"Hmm?" he looked at his partner, who had sat down next to him, covering her helmet with her hand.

"Farthest corner. Twi'lek. Dooku's subordinate."

"Got it, we'll talk about it later," he replied as if nothing had happened.

Credit must be given to Hassan—he remained as relaxed as possible, thereby avoiding suspicion from the Count's minion. He seemed to have completely forgotten Tann's words, simply content with the completed mission. She should also relax and distract herself from the problems, if only because she was mentally exhausted. Right now, she could make a lot of mistakes, and to avoid them, she needed rest and meditation.

"Hmm..." Sev'rance hummed thoughtfully, sliding off the stool.

The sandy walls of Jabba's residence instantly turned into the cold steel of a prison. Chisska purposefully walked down a brightly lit corridor, her heels clicking loudly. Everyone should know she was approaching. Everyone should know that Sev'rance Tann was coming. She elegantly tossed her dark blue hair back. Yes, she no longer wore a helmet, but she didn't care. Everything that was happening was right. And it was right that her body was draped in a twilight cloak, so similar to Hassan's.

On her way, she encountered members of the Ongree and Fondorian races. They both visibly tensed as the dangerous and deadly woman passed by them. Tann did nothing to them. Why should she? She had more important matters to attend to. They were just patrols making their rounds—a minor detail, unworthy of her attention.

Sev'rance ran her hand over the panel, opening the door to her quarters. She walked into her private room as usual and stopped at the threshold, the dull noise of the door closing behind her. A needle of fear pricked her female body. The small prick wasn't enough to scare or anger her, but Tann still tensed. It was as if she had been here before...

Her fingers instinctively reached for the bridge of her nose. But what was so surprising about the fact that she had been here before? After all, this was her personal quarters! Trying to distance herself from unnecessary thoughts, she shook her head. To her right was the bed, to her left, near the entrance to the bathroom, shelves hung on the wall, and by the viewport was a large round table, where she now took a seat.

In front of her were three familiar objects: the lightsaber with which she had taken dozens of lives, the helmet that had reliably protected its owner, and a holographic photo, in which, no matter how hard she tried, she could never see a clear image. However, Sev'rance wasn't worried about this. The blurry holographic photo seemed completely normal to the Chiss, as if it was supposed to be that way.

Suddenly, a loud and insistent knock echoed through the quarters. Sev'rance jumped up from her chair as if scalded and quickly approached the door, opening it with the same panel. When the metal curtain slid aside, a gray, shapeless mist stood before her, which also didn't strike her as strange. On the contrary, she wasn't surprised at all by the presence of this Something in front of her. Even her subconscious didn't react or warn her.

"Did you forget something?" the mist somehow spoke.

Its words seemed to echo in her mind, but again, Sev'rance didn't find this odd. The question didn't carry any hidden meaning, did it? At least, Sev'rance thought along those lines, which is why she hastily returned to the table and reached for... the helmet. Her fingers carefully picked up the helmet from the table, as if it were made of fragile crystal. The pads of her fingers recognized the object, and her subconscious remembered it too, so the helmet felt incredibly familiar to her. Over time, it had become as important a part of her life as the lightsaber... What life? The inconvenient question was lost in the depths of her mind, which seemed to accept everything happening as normal, no matter how absurd it was. Perhaps she should also take the lightsaber with her... But for some reason, she turned away from the table and returned to her guest.

"Ah, the helmet," the gray mist began to take on the shape of a humanoid. "You haven't worn it in a while," the figure before her, Hassan, remarked with a smirk, clad in the dark, menacing armor of a Sith Lord.

But Sev'rance wasn't paying much attention to his attire—it seemed ordinary to her, as if she had seen it countless times before. In what past? Again, a logical question slipped away from her mind. The apprentice's gaze briefly scanned the armor before settling on her master's face. Her eyes looked directly at his features, but her brain didn't process the incoming information. She saw his face or mask, but the information refused to stick in her mind. Once more, Sev'rance paid no attention to it. Everything was going as it should.

"Yes... It's been a while," she replied with a hint of nostalgia.

At the sight of the dark armor, which he usually hid under his cloak, her body began to tremble for some reason. Her body feared him, her body urged her to step back, but Sev'rance ignored this strange surge of intuition. Why should she fear him? Had she done something wrong? No, so why should she be afraid? To her, the teacher was a mentor, someone with whom she had already... What already? The last question again vanished from the Chiss's mind as strangely and instantly as it had appeared.

"Back then, we met that scoundrel Olg. That was a long time ago."

The space around her blurred. She was no longer in her quarters or even in the corridor. The steel walls rippled like she had plunged into a lake where these very walls and the entire surrounding world were reflected. Maybe they had stepped beyond reality or entered some sort of mirror world? Perhaps. But Sev'rance had no desire to think about it. The drifting space in the flow of time was perfectly acceptable to the conscious and unconscious mind of the blue-skinned beauty.

"Yes..." Sev'rance allowed herself a faint smile for some inexplicable reason. "Whenever he started talking, I had to shut him up with threats, or we wouldn't have completed our mission on time."

"Ha-ha-ha," Hassan chuckled lightly. "Back then, we only had three days. Allah, we barely made it back with the goods to Jabba, and then Olg spent hours trying to sell him the stolen goods."

"Yes," her smile widened, "I almost couldn't resist killing him on the spot. His voice irritated me so much."

"To be honest, his rambling got on my nerves too," Hassan said conspiratorially. "And I wasn't too fond of groveling before Jabba."

"Really?" Sev'rance was surprised. "You have much more patience than I do, Master."

"Have you understood now?" he suddenly asked a strange, out-of-place question. "Patience is a virtue, both for a Sith and a Jedi. Patience is the ability not to break under the pressure of problems. Patience is the ability to wait out hardships, so that in time, you can win a battle or even a whole war. A patient and determined Sith is far more dangerous than a hot-headed and impulsive one."

"I..." The master's wisdom caught her off guard. "I understand..." Sev'rance opened her eyes.

Before her, the wall of a hotel room materialized while her head and body rested comfortably on something soft, and her hand was holding something warm. Her nervous and confused gaze darted sideways to her hand, where her fingers tightly gripped a distinctly human male hand. Shocked by this scene, she shifted her gaze slightly and saw her master sitting next to her, seemingly holding her hand the entire time she was asleep.

"How are you? Is everything alright?" her mentor asked in a caring tone. "I noticed that you were restless in your sleep again."

Sev'rance looked at him, then at their intertwined hands. Then back at her master, and once more at their hands. Embarrassed by the wild situation, she instinctively pulled away, curling up against the pillow and gathering her hands to her chest. She now resembled a rabbit waking up under the wing of a dragon. Her thoughts scrambled in panic, forming a jumble out of one painfully simple, yet complex question—why? Why? Why?! WHY?! Sith don't act like this! So why is he showing her care and affection that she never even asked for... Or rather, care and affection that she doesn't even NEED! But can she tell him that?

"Um, sorry if I scared you, Sev'rance," Hassan awkwardly patted the helmet. "Alright... um..." He was clearly flustered by her strong reaction. "Anyway, you wanted to tell me something about that Twi'lek... Or would you rather eat first?" Rafael, getting up from the bed, walked over to the table with a plate of food.

While the apprentice was collecting herself after her restless sleep and abrupt awakening, the master turned his back to her, covering the plate of food, summoned a mana potion from his inventory, and poured a few drops of the blue liquid directly onto her breakfast...