Christian Eldritch stared vacantly out the front viewport of the bridge of the Longshot, the swirling and streaming wisps of hyperspace sped past, but he didn’t see it. The escape from the ancient dreadnought had left him questioning everything he had previously taken for granted. He had somehow begun to see the universe … differently. Where he’d once simply existed, he now felt like he’d been plugged into something deeper, something more substantial, yet less so at the same time. Something about that crazy old Jedi had infected him, somehow fucked him up.

He could, well, feel things, stuff he’d never consciously recognized, but that had helped him in the past. He now knew why he’d been so successful with the con, so good at getting the women into bed and so damned good at gambling. It was the force. He felt its power within him now. Something both old, yet very new.

But now that he could see it, could actually sense it, he also sensed something else, something…dark. He could swear that when he wasn’t paying attention to it, that he could faintly hear the cackling, insane laughter of that mystical madman. He could even hear a subtle whisper, something telling him that he could do it. “It” being anything, that he was entitled to do whatever he wished to whomever he wished to do it, and that if he did it that he’d experience both pleasure as well as power.

This was terrifying, on so many levels, he didn’t know how he would be able to cope, but he knew he needed to talk to Lars. Like now. He reached for the switch to activate the hyperspace comms, and after checking to be sure the others were still sleeping, he began to tell Lars. Everything.



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