A read-only archive of discourse.darkjedibrotherhood.com as of Sunday May 01, 2022.

Coming Home


It has been a wild few months. Bentre looked out at the gem of the Corell system, Corellia Prime. I escaped Nar Shadda with Kiriyu, was inducted into the Brotherhood and ascended the ranks with determination and gusto. I took command of a Battleteam, and helped them to defend our home city. I braved the Sunken Temple, fought on Dentavii, and watched as one of the best of my friends die to end the Progenitor. The Human drew a deep, steadying breath that threatened to become a sob.

“It is always hard, isn’t it boy?” The words brought the Shadow back to reality. An old man looked across the aisle at the young man, his expression twisted with some measure of pity. He obviously saw the tears forming in the Sith’s eyes. “We all dream of coming home one day.” The man’s assumptions were surprisingly on point.

Stahoes bit his lip, drawing a shallow breath to try and soothe his unease at the man’s implications. “I feel weird about coming back here. You would think I would be glad. You would think a man would be happy to come home.” He looked away from the elderly humanoid, staring back at the blue-green planet hanging in space. “I am not so sure that I have dreamed of this day.”

What will they do after all this time? Will Mom and Dad welcome me back with open arms, or cast me away? Would they even be alive, or have they perhaps moved away from the family home planet after all these years?

Three tones played over the intercom. “Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking.” Every head turned to regard the small speaker posted over the doorway into the small cabin they had been seated in. “We will shortly be entering the airspace of Corellia proper. Be aware that we may experience some turbulence as we enter the atmosphere. Be sure you gather your belongings once we have landed, and have all the proper documentation ready for processing by planetary customs. For many of you, welcome home, and to all of you, I hope you have a nice day.”

“There is nothing quite like coming home, my boy.” The old gentleman settled back in his chair before glancing back at Bentre from the corner of his eye. “It is an emotional time for anyone. At least you have a home to come back to.”


The rest of the time in the spaceport was an awkward blur to Stahoes. He walked out onto the concourse in a numb state, just trying to put one foot in front of the other. He gave mumbled answers as the customs officers checked his paperwork, and shuffled along as he was directed. It didn’t take pass through security and retrieve his one lone bag.

After leaving the spaceport, Bentre took a moment to check that his lightsaber and blaster were safe in the side compartment of the dufflebag. Reholstering the blaster inside of his jacket, the Corellian buried his lightsaber deeper inside, situating it between pants and shirts. I really would rather not to bring that up around Mom if I don’t have to. Besides, it makes it easier to avoid drawing too much attention to myself if it isn’t hanging from my side.

Glancing around, the Sith could see that nobody was paying any particular attention to him. A man and a woman were too absorbed in each other arms and lips, and an old man was walking along, spinning his cane every few feet. As he reached out in the Force, Stahoes could feel the relative ease of the people around him.

Isn’t this sad, Bentre shook his head. That happiness should feel so alien an emotion after these last few weeks. He took a moment to reach out and feel each of the people in turn. He didn’t have anything in particular he was feeling for, but he liked to keep aware of what was going on around him.

Something didn’t feel right, though. Despite all these people, so open in their emotions and simple in their thoughts, there was something else here. There was something else among all the gentle emotions. A quiet desperation unsettled the gentle waves of the Force present here.

It was a tepid undercurrent among the cool ripples these civilians created in the Force. Yet, as the Shadow looked up and down the sidewalk, he could not locate the source of the emotion among the humanoids on the street. Shaking his head, the Journeyman began to plod down the road, watching the traffic passing by.


Three Hours Later

Here is the moment of truth.

Bentre couldn’t help but snort in spite of himself. His emotions were as mixed as ever as he stared at the all-too-familiar door. The apartment complex had not changed too much since he had left all those years ago. The walls had been painted a forest green instead of the old, drab eggshell.

It made the man wonder how much his parents might have changed the old home. Pulling himself upright and placing his bag just off to the side, he rapped a knuckle on the door once, then a second time and then a third time.

At first there was no response. Muffled words came from the other side before the door cracked open. “What do you want?” A cross-looking Mirilian woman glared from behind the door. Stahoes could see she had the door-chain secured.

“Excuse me, mam. Sorry to bother you. I must have gotten the wrong door. I was looking for the Stahoes family.”

“Well,” the woman sneered, “there is no one by that name living here, young man.”

“I must have been mistaken.” Bentre was bothered, but he tried his best to conceal it. “Would know where the Stahoes family lives on this floor then?”

“There are no people by that name living here.” The woman moved to close the door, but the Shadow quickly placed his foot between the door.

“It is very important, lady.” His polite veneer was beginning to crack a little. “I need to find these folks, and I would be quite appreciative if you could tell me where they live.” The Sith could hear his usual mouth starting to reassert itself.

“Get your foot out of my door, or I will call the manager!”

“You don’t seem to understand, my dear woman.” Bentre made a two-fingered forward gesture as he spoke. He couldn’t help it when he was trying to put emphasis behind the words in the Force. It still took a lot of focus. “I need to find Brynar and Elinor Stahoes. Please.”

“I don’t know any Stahoes family!” the woman yelled from the door. “I have lived here for over twenty five years!” A door or two in the hallway opened, as curious tenants looked to see what the fuss was about.

“There is no need to yell, woman.” Bentre could not help but let the slightest of sneers twist his lip as he pulled his foot back. It would not be a good thing for him to look like a common thug with an audience. “I am just looking for my family.” The woman shook her head once before she slammed the door closed.

As several of the other occupants of the building turned back into their own homes, Bentre reached out a hand. “Please,” he called, “does anyone know where the Stahoes family lives in this building?”

The sound of a blaster warming up answered his inquiry. The Shadow knew better than to turn around immediately to regard the person holding the weapon. He did not raise his hands, but did straighten his stance up a bit. “Turn around, with hands where I can see them. I want to know who are you and why are you beating on doors, boy?”

Stahoes did as he was told, doing his best to appear as amiable as possible. The older man was holding a beaten E-11 blaster. “As I tried to tell this lady before she slammed the door in my face, I am just looking for my family sir. I have been a long time away from my home.”

“You don’t have the look of their sort of people. I have been managing this building for a couple of decades, and I have never seen a ruffian like you hanging around these halls.”

Bentre couldn’t help but smile a bit at those words. “Sir, I lived on this floor for the first fifteen years of my life. Dad liked this place because it was near his work. I can remember coming up these stairs so many times as a child.”

The man lowered his blaster for a moment. “So you mean to tell me that you are one of the Wodan boys? Didn’t your father work as a technician at the spaceport?”

The Sith’s face scrunched up for a moment in frustration. “Stahoes, sir. Sta-hoes. My father was a banker, not a technician. I mean, Mom had done some tech work, but-”

“There have never been any Stahoes here,” the man raised his blaster again, “so would you care to amend your story before I put some holes in you?”

The familiar sound of metal scraping metal was heard. Bentre just caught the sight of a blade as it was placed on the back of the manager’s neck. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He recognized the voice of that thrice-damned Twi’lek.

“So that is your game, punk?” the manager grumbled.

“He was merely asking questions of the tenants. He was not threatening anyone.” Tasha’vel peered over the man’s shoulder as she spoke. “The only one I see threatening anyone is you.”

“You seem to have a blade at my neck,” the older man snarled.

“There is difference between a threat and a warning,” the Marauder spoke cheerfully. “If you can be reasonable, you will lower your blaster and I will lower my sword. There doesn’t have to be any bloodshed.”

“She is partially right,” Stahoes let out a sigh. “There is only one thing I need to take care of before we go though.” In one smooth motion, the Corellian pulled out his blaster, firing three shots into the building manager’s torso. The man hit the ground with a groan of surprise.

Versea looked hard at her rival, her lips pursed. “Was that really necessary?”

The Shadow looked at the corpse on the ground for a moment before shrugging. “Nobody pulls a blaster on me like that without some consequence. Before he was a dead end, and now he’s just dead.”

The female Sith rolled her eyes, and motioned with her free hand. “Either way, let’s get out of here before somebody calls a CorSec officer. Assuming someone hasn’t already.”

“Oh cool,” the Human’s eyes flashed. “I am hungry anyway.”


It has been way too long since I got an opportunity to eat here again.

Picking food from the buffet like a child gathering sweets in a shop, Bentre moved along one of the long tables. He knew that Tasha’vel was watching his with some measure of bemusement. Though he hadn’t sensed her presence so clearly before, her emotions were very evident in the Force.

She probably didn’t understand why he was so methodically shoveling food atop of so many plates. Finally satisfied with his selections, the Shadow proceeded to balance his six plates upon the tray. He stepped across the floor intently, determined not to trip or drop anything.

“Why so much food?” his Twi’lek companion inquired as he approached the table.

“You just have to try the lasagna here. I loved coming to this place as a child. It is really popular so the food is almost always fresh.” He motioned for Versea to grab one of the plates. “That right there is some of the tastiest portions of fish you will enjoy this side of Coronet. They catch it fresh every Monday.” Nodding, the Marauder began to unload the other plates from the tray onto the table.

“So why are you treating me to this lunch date?” The blue-skinned Sith winked.

“Oh no-” Bentre’s expression fell for a moment. “I just really li-” he stuttered, “I mean I just, um-” Turning red, the Human became silent.

“You are cute when you blush.” Tasha’vel poked a fork into the fish and smiled before taking a bite. “You are right, this is pretty good.” She chewed for a moment before looking pointedly at the blushing Shadow. “So seriously now, why are you here on Corellia?”

Stahoes opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Running a hand through his hair, he looked rather sheepish. “I guess I would be lying if I told you I wanted to come back home. A few weeks ago, I sent a message to my folks. I haven’t been home since I was a kid. I couldn’t stay on Sepros after Atra died. I just needed to get away for a while.”

Tasha’vel nodded as she watched the emotion well up in his eyes. “I can understand that.”

“Well, I tried to get in touch with my parents. I figured it would be a little bit of a shock hearing from me after all these years. I suppose I thought they wouldn’t have expected I would ever show my face here again. I knew it would be tough, but I felt it was important I let my parents know what had become of me.” The male Sith shook his head. “That is where it got weird. When I called my parents, all I got was an out-of-service message. So I tried to send some letters through physical mail, and they were all sent back unopened.” Reaching into his bag below the table, he fished out several large envelopes and dropped them on the table. Each bore postal markings and Return to Sender stamps.

“Did you try checking some records, Bentre? See if maybe they changed residence or something.”

“That is where things got even stranger. When I made a records request for my family, it came up empty. It wasn’t just my parents either. My uncle, my grandparents, my cousins were all missing from their databases.” The Human shook his head. “I don’t mean they left the planet. I mean it was as though none of them had ever been on Corellia.”

“So do you think somebody erased the information?”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Dad was a banker and Mom was a homemaker. We didn’t have anything to hide, and we were quite open in the community. There were lots of little social affairs I got dragged to. I looked through both public records and even spliced into some private records. I got nothing. If somebody was trying to wipe out our existence, they did a damn good job.”

“Maybe your parents ha-” Tasha’vel was silenced as Stahoes raised a finger. The Shadow pointed to the doorway. One of the tenants of the apartment complex was standing there. Looking back to her old rival, the female Marauder’s eyes were wide.
“We might need to continue this later then. "

“No,” Bentre growled, looking intently at the middle-aged Bothan who was scanning over the crowd of people. Without breaking his intense stare, Bentre rummaged through his small duffle bag. Glancing once at Versea, he raised the pommel of his Guardsman-hilt lighsaber briefly. “I am going to get some answers.” Standing to his feet, the Corellian Knight drew to his full height. He strode forward toward the man without a word.

“Don’t!” Tasha’vel called after him in a hushed voice.

The Bothan did not seem to see Bentre until the Sadowan was almost within striking distance. When their eyes met, there was little fear to be seen in either man’s eyes. The apartment tenant glanced at the lightsaber hilt, then back into the Sith’s eyes.

“You might want to hide that before somebody notices it,” the Bothan hissed, tilting his head at the lightsaber. “I think you might want to know a little about your parents before you try to strike me down, boy.” There was challenge in the words, but for the first time since joining the Brotherhood, the Corellian Knight actually felt the urge to back down and listen. “My name is Gyril and you may want to sit down, young man. We have a lot to talk about.”

Feeling numb, Bentre walked back toward the table. As he sat down, he dropped his lighsaber back into his bag. Tasha’vel’s glance shifted between her fellow Sadowan and the older Bothan. Gyril in turn gave her the slightest of bows. This solicited a smile from the Marauder.

“So you claim to be from the same family as the folks who disappeared from the building about five years back?” Gyril mumbled as he sat down in the chair beside the Twi’lek. “An odd circumstance to be sure.”

“What do you mean?” Bentre tilted his head curiously. “What was so strange about it?”
“It isn’t that often that most of a floor is moved out of a building.” The Bothan paused for moment, raising an eyebrow at the multitude of plates sitting in front of him. After a moment, he shrugged, and continued. “The old woman you bothered today, Estrasia, for example. She is as senile a woman as you can imagine. Her children left the poor old gal alone to deal with her dementia. She was moved in about three months after the previous family left.”

“How terrible,” Versea spit, “for a child to abandon her mother in a time of such need.”

“As you say it,” the Bothan gentleman shrugged slightly. “The others moved in in the weeks following. It was really the oddest thing. A few weeks later still, Estrasia began to get some odd calls from some woman. She just kept insisting she needed to talk to Sophia Shay.”

Bentre shook his head at the man’s words, unsure what to make of them. The Bothan looked between the two Sith before attempting to get up. Looking up, the Corellian Knight raised a hand. “Don’t go just yet.” Standing up, the Shadow extended a hand. Clasped in the hand was a small pile of credits. “I know it isn’t much, but I appreciate you coming to tell me.”

Gyril clasped his hand, shaking it. “It is quite alright, young man. Any man who comes home to find himself without one deserves answers of some sort.” Giving a brief nod, the Bothan turned around. He stopped for a moment and turned back.

“By the way,” he spoke in low tones, “I saw the manager pull a blaster on you. Some might not agree with me but as near as I figure it you were acting in self-defense. So you don’t have to worry about me calling the authorities on a Jedi and his lovely companion.” He gave another nod at the pair as Tasha’vel smiled back at him.

As Gyril strode away, the Twi’lek leaned in toward the table. “He thought you were a Jedi?” She snorted in disbelief.

“Not like I was going to argue with the old timer.” Bentre shrugged. “Well, at least now I have a lead of some sort.”

“We can go back to the room I have rented for a few nights then and get started.” The Marauder nodded.

“ Which brings me to a very interesting query, Tash’.” The male Sith’s eyes narrowed. “What brought you to my home planet just now? You can’t tell me you were here to see the sights.”

“You-” Versea paused, “You see- well- you-” she sighed. “I saw how badly you were affected by Atra’s death. I wanted to keep an eye on you. I wanted to make sure that you were going to be okay. I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to do anything too stupid in your grief.” There was a pain in her words.

Bentre shook his head. “By the gods, woman, what did you expect I was gonna do?” He paused for a moment, his eyes flashing in a moment of humor before he snorted. “You know what, don’t bother answering that. I can imagine a number of things already.” The Human tried to force a smile.

“You are in pain, Stahoes. We all are. We all need to draw together as we come to terms with our loss.” Tasha’vel spoke the words gently as she stood up. Before the male Shadow realized what she was doing, Versea drew her fellow Sith into a gentle embrace, laying a soft kiss upon his cheek.

When she drew away, she saw the tears in Bentre’s eyes. Picking up his bag from beneath the table, the Twi’lek pointed toward the doorway. “Let’s get of here, and get working on your lead.”


Several hours of searching had failed to pull up anything. Frustrated, Bentre threw his datapad across the room. It made a satisfying clunk as it struck the back wall. It didn’t do him any good, but it certainly had felt good just then.

Versea had left the hotel room a few hours ago. The Shadow had not bothered to ask her where she was going. As much as he appreciated having a place to work, the man did not want her hovering over his shoulder. That would just be a distraction.

Distraction. His face burned a bit as he thought of the feeling of her soft kiss upon his cheek. It was far more gentle than the one at the Clan party. It was no less affectionate, though. The woman, for all her talents, seemed to project her emotions into the Force more often than not.

I suppose it was a good thing she didn’t continue down the path of a Shadow after all.

He had found plenty of records of Shays across the galaxy. Every time that he seemed to have possibly located his parents though, it turned out to be a dead end. Public records were proving too numerous and undependable for his purposes.

I need something more dependable like a government or military record li-

He paused mid-thought. He hadn’t stopped to consider that. It might just take a few more hours of working away at his datapad. It would take some shenanigans to open up military and government databases, but it wasn’t like he had anything to lose.

Scrambling across the room to retrieve his datapad, Bentre couldn’t help but smile. If he worked really quickly, he might manage to find his parents before Tasha’vel returned. Perhaps once again, those impertinent gods would care to shine upon him. He hoped against hope, perhaps this one last time they might grant him a wish without taking something dear from him again.

Perhaps this son of Corellia will be gifted an opportunity to get to the bottom of this mystery. Bentre felt his teeth grind as the grim reality of the situation re-asserted itself. It is a child’s dream to think it will be that easy. It is hope against hope, that he could perhaps have some closure before duty called him back to the Clan. A fool’s dream for some measure of peace in this miserable galaxy. The Sith shook his head as he set to work with his datapad. Nine Hells.

He knew very well he could never discover the truth.