She Who Battles Monsters: An Assassin's Tale

[Mirdthestrill]

Part 38: Zash's Office

 

 

The Citadel sits across a massive chasm from the rest of the city, contributing to the impression that it’s a giant beast crouched over the city. A droid-piloted taxi waits to take me across, mercifully at no cost. Khem crams into the back seat and we plunge off the edge of the platform with a sickening lurch. I’m grateful for my empty stomach. Is it trying to kill us?

 

But no, we’re banking up again and before a minute is up, setting down on one of the landing pads outside the Sith Sanctum. I climb gratefully out and survey my location. There are no guards at the door, which is open, so I assume I’m allowed to go in. And even if it was shut, I’m a Sith now. I should be allowed to walk into my own fortress. Khem follows me, with another comment about how much things have deteriorated since the days of Tulak Hord.

 

The inside of the building is alive with the Dark Side. I can feel it oozing from the walls, sloshing about on the floor, and hanging in clouds in the corners. I’m in a massive hexagonal room, painted in dark colors, with Imperial banners and statues of the Emporor decorating it. Although I’ve seen a hundred statues of him, they’re always so abstract that it’s impossible to determine anything about him from them. I know he’s human, but beyond that, he could have any physical description for all the statues show.

 

There’s no way to know where Zash’s office is from here, so I approach one of the Sith who appears to be in a

decent mood and probably isn’t too high a rank to bother answering. Bowing, I say “Pardon me, Lord, but could you tell me where Lord Zash’s office is?”

 

He looks up from his datapad long enough to point to a door on the far side of the room and mutter “Three doors down, then the second one on your right.”

 

I follow these confusing instructions to what might be the right door. Should I knock? I’m not certain this is her office, and if it isn’t some other Sith will be rather upset that I’ve disturbed their work. But I can’t just stand around waiting, either. I tap on the durasteel.

 

“Come in,” says that melodic voice I’ve already come to recognize. Good.

 

The door slides open and I walk into a comfortably furnished office, complete with computer terminal, upholstered chairs, and potted plants. A selection of Sith artifacts decorates the alcoves on the wall, including, I’m surprised to see, several of the things I brought her from the tombs. Zash herself sits at the desk, bent over a datapad. She looks up “Apprentice! Do you have my star map for me?”

 

I haven’t let it off my person since I picked it up in the tomb. I almost don’t want to give it up, but there’s no other way to become Zash’s apprentice, so I say “Of course, Master.”

 

She smiles and comes around her desk to take it from my hands. “And this must be the Dashade.”

 

“I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord and-“

 

“Yes, it is,” I cut him off. I don’t need to listen to his explanation again.

 

Zash walks over to him and inspects him in much the same fashion she did me. “You’re quite the impressive creature.” He doesn’t seem to know how to react to this.

 

I guess I’d better deliver Skotia’s message. At the very least, there will be questions if I don’t. Further still, if he manages to discredit or kill Zash, I’ll go down too. Not to mention that it will be much easier to figure out what he knows if I have an obvious reason to be investigating him. “Do you know a half-machine Sith Lord with a pair of Trandoshan bodyguards? He gave me a message for you.”

 

“Damn Skotia!” mutters Zash, her brown eyes clouding with anger. “If he wants to speak to me, he can do so directly.” She turns to me. “I suppose he tried to intimidate you?”

 

“I survived.”

 

She sighs and perches on the edge of her desk. “Ever since I arrived on Drommund Kaas, Darth Skotia has been envious of my power. And now that I’ve taken you on, he hates you as well.”

 

“He is flesh. He can be killed.” For once, I agree with Khem.

 

“Unfortunately, I can’t move against him openly. The Dark Council forbids killing another Sith Lord and he outranks me. You, however, are not protected under this rule, so we can’t begin our search for Tulak Hord’s power until he’s eliminated. Even if you could avoid being killed by his agents, he might be able to deduce the ritual.”

 

It doesn’t take much to figure out what she’s getting at. “You’re going to assassinate him?” From what I’ve gathered, as long as they can’t prove she was responsible, his death will go unpunished.

 

“You’re going to assassinate him.”

 

“Yes, Master,” I say, but inwardly I’m wondering how I can do it. I’m nowhere near powerful enough to take him on with his bodyguards, and they’d be on me as soon as I went for him. I’d wager that he rarely goes anywhere without them. Not to mention that the blame will fall on me. Being executed by the Dark Council for murdering a Darth is not how I want to die.

 

“You’ll need a bit more training first, of course, and I’ll need to research a way to take out his bodyguards.” Her face softens a bit. “Why don’t you go to bed? You look exhausted.”

 

Does it show? Immediately, I stand up straighter. “I’m fine, Lord.”

 

“I don’t have anything else for you to do tonight anyway.” She retrieves something from a pouch on her belt and hands it to me. It’s a keycard, like hotels use if they’re not upscale enough to have biometric locks on their rooms. “Tell the speeder droid to take you to my house. I’ve had one of the servants prepare your room.”

 

I bow deeply. “Thank you. It is an honor.” When in doubt, buttering a Sith up is a good idea.

 

“Nonsense. We can’t have you sleeping in the street, now can we? Now, hurry along, and you can take your Dashade with you.”

 

 

 

Note:

 

I feel bad that I'm not writing better/more interesting interactions between Khem and Kiarn. I know they'd be a much more interesting pair than what I have here. However, Khem is one of those companions I have a super hard time writing, so it might be rather limited. I apologize.

 

Why couldn't Kiarn spend most of four planets exclusively with Jorgan or Elara or Nadia or Corso or Qyzen? I can write all of them

 

[Nalathemaster]

this is awesome! Please continue making these for a long time! Also , I miss the miraluka I still love this though. Edited September 14, 2014 by Nalathemaster

[Mirdthestrill]

this is awesome! Please continue making these for a long time! Also , I miss the miraluka I still love this though.

 

Thank you so much! And I miss writing Meiko too. Somehow Khem Val just isn't quite the same, lol.

 

Anyway, sorry that today's post is kind of boring, mostly just "here-to-there" stuff.

 

Part 39: The Lair of a Sith

 

 

I stand in front of Lord Zash’s house. From the outside, it’s not particularly impressive, just a townhouse squeezed between two nearly identical ones, I’d guess about four stories tall, but quite narrow and the same dark, dull grey as the rest of the neighborhood.

 

“Are you going inside?” says Khem from behind me. I’m not particularly thrilled about having him along, but apparently Zash isn’t done with him yet and doesn’t want to be saddled with looking out for him herself. At least the combat backup will be nice, provided he doesn’t kill me in my sleep.

 

“Yes.” I place my keycard in the slot by the door and wait. The small red light turns green and the door slides back silently, allowing me to step inside. The ground level appears to be all one room, large but not cavernous, and set up as a living room/reception area. Tastefully understated couches are arranged around a holographic fireplace. Other areas have chairs of various sorts arranged in conversation circles and I can see a bar at the far end.

 

Taking the spiral staircase in the corner, I ascend to the second floor, which seems to be a dining room, mostly filled by a long, narrow table surrounded by around twenty identical chairs. Like the living room, it’s immaculately clean and as far as I can tell decorated in the very latest imperial style. What’s missing, though is much personal detail, even in the artwork and furniture choice; I’ve learned nothing about her from being inside her house. Although I suspect this might be intentional.

 

The third floor is a small landing with a closed door. I check it. Locked, with a biometric keypad. Probably Zash’s living quarters and private office. Sometime I’ll make a concerted effort to investigate- the goal, after all, is to find out all her secrets without exposing any of my own- but I’ll wait until she’s a little more comfortable with me to try.

The top floor is also a locked door, but this one has a slot for my keycard. Inserting it, I hear a soft pop of seals and a moment later the door slides back.

 

My room is set up like a small apartment, with a double bed against one wall, a desk with a computer terminal on the other, and a mini-kitchen in the corner. I enter warily. It would be very typically Sith to lay some sort of trap in their apprentice’s room. I can never let my guard down, not even in here.

 

Khem follows me inside and wanders around the room, poking at various objects. I deposit my bag on the bed and head through the door. The refresher is fairly standard: sink, toilet, shower. I shut the door and sink to the floor. It’s so nice to have privacy again, even if I know it’s only an illusion and Zash probably has cameras at least in the main living area.

 

I’m so tired. It feels like half a lifetime has passed since I left the Academy and my head is fogged with exhaustion. Looking down idly at my hand, I notice that it’s splattered with the same mud that coats my boots and the lower parts of my leggings. I should take a shower. Yes, a shower without the threat of some other student barging in would be nice.

 

Outside, Khem has finished his inspection and is standing awkwardly by the door. “Don’t touch anything,” I say as I pull an identical tunic and leggings out of my bag and re-zip it.

 

Fifteen minutes later, I emerge from the refresher, at least somewhat cleaner and with my old clothes hanging dripping in the shower. As soon as I have some money, I’ll need to buy some toiletries to outfit this place.

If anything, the shower has made me more tired. Although I know that I can’t afford to indulge weakness at a time like this, I decide to go to bed anyway, justifying it in my mind with the fact that Zash will most likely have plenty for

me to do tomorrow and I haven’t slept for more than a few hours since the day before I left Korriban.

 

Crawling between the sheets, I reach out with the Force to telekinetically shut off the light before I realize that Khem is still standing awkwardly by the door. What am I going to do with him? Well, I won’t last long if I can’t trust him enough to fall asleep near him. “You can sleep on the floor,” I say. Does he even sleep? I think I’d feel better if he did, though it really has no bearing on anything. He nods and sits down in a corner. I tuck my lightsaber under one of the pillows in case I need it and turn out the light.

 

Despite being located in a fairly well-traveled area of Kaas City, Zash’s house is nearly silent at night. Apart from the hum of the appliances in the corner and a faint drumming of rain on the roof, all I can hear is Khem’s quiet breathing.

 

I’ve never slept in a bed this large before. The beds at the Academy were narrow and cot-like, and before that it was usually a pallet on the floor or something similar to what we had at the Academy. It feels almost too large and soft, like I’m too small and insignificant for it.

 

With the lights off, I’m wide awake again and wondering what the future has in store, what Zash is hiding, what’s happening to the other acolytes. Karanni was going to meet Darth Baras, and I seem to recall something about Quillan being apprenticed to a Darth Erius. As for Tyrin and the others, I have no idea.

 

Unbidden, my thoughts drift back to the Academy and inevitably to Meiko. Who would she have been apprenticed to? Would we have remained friends, or would the shifting world of Sith politics have driven us apart? I think she, at least, would have tried to maintain it. Guilt threatens to overwhelm me again as I remember the expression on her face as I killed her. I don’t think I can ever make up for what I did, no matter how many Sith I kill.

 

I start to cry again, struggling to keep silent so Khem can’t hear me. A ripple in the Force. Zash must be home. Her presence is distinctive, an odd combination of congeniality and ruthlessness, with an undercurrent of something much darker and older. She climbs the stairs to the floor below and for a few minutes her presence is static.

 

Then, something strange happens and I grab my lightsaber. The strange cast her Force-sense has always had suddenly overwhelms the rest of her, burning hot with anger. For a few minutes, nothing happens as I wait in the dark for an attack or a clue as to what’s going on. But it disappears and Zash’s normal presence returns without any apparent change.

 

Shifting my position to something less comfortable, I draw on the Dark Side to banish my exhaustion. I’m not going to sleep tonight, not with this unknown below me.

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Part 40: Breakfast at Zash's

 

 

Despite my intentions, I do fall asleep sometime after 0300 hours. Nightmares swirl through the blackness and when I wake, I feel less rested than when I nodded off. Sitting up, I push the hair out of my face and try to rub the pillow marks off of it. Khem is already awake, if he went to sleep at all, and stares at me with a calm that’s as annoying as it is unsettling.

 

Disentangling myself from the blanket and sheets- it’s also a bit of a novelty to have this much covering- I climb out and head for the bathroom. The sleep must have done something for me after all. At least my body feels slightly less slow and clumsy. But with the slight renewal of energy comes an awareness of how hungry I am. I haven’t eaten since just before I left the Academy, and my head feels far too light in comparison to the rest of my body.

 

My clothes from yesterday are dry now, so I put them on and look in the mirror. The dark circles around my eyes aren’t as bad as they were last night, but still noticeable, and my hair is a mess. It got quite a bit longer at the Academy, almost down to the bottom of my ribcage, though it still hangs in my face and over one eye if I don’t tuck it back. It hasn’t been this long since I was a child, but I think I’ll keep it. Somehow, it looks more… Sith-like, especially when coupled with the marks on my face.

 

The claw marks from the tuk’ata that I fought during the ninth trial are starting to heal into scars that stand out from the right side of my face like a tattoo, twisted skin even paler than I normally am and outlined in sickly bluish-pink. Another, smaller scar is just visible over the neckline of my tunic and if I pull up my sleeves, I’ll see another half a dozen. I don’t even remember getting most of them.

 

Turning away from my reflection, I straighten my clothing and return to the main section of the room. Khem hasn’t moved, but I think I detect a little boredom in his Force-sense. For some reason, that gives me a hint of satisfaction.

 

I check the cabinets in the kitchen area. No food.

 

As I start back towards my bag- maybe I can look at one of the scrolls to pass the time- the comm on the desk buzzes. I startle. Who’s calling me? It buzzes again. Better answer. I cross to the desk and press the button to accept the call.

 

“Apprentice!” says Lord Zash, still using that overly excited voice that makes it hard to read her true emotions. It strikes me that that may be intentional. “Did you sleep well?”

 

“Yes, Lord,” I lie.

 

“Excellent. Why don’t you join me for breakfast? I’ll tell the servants to have it ready in fifteen minutes.”

 

“Yes, Lord.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, I enter the dining room. Zash is sitting at the far end of the table. Every place is set, but I

choose one about three seats away from her. Close enough for an easy conversation, but not too close for comfort. Despite what happened last night, she looks more or less the same as last night: dressed stylishly and moderately conservatively, disarmingly innocent expression. She smiles at me as I sit down. “I hope you like your room. I had it outfitted before I left for Korriban.”

 

“It’s quite sufficient, thank you.” I’ve never had my own room before, much less one this large, so anything would be an improvement.

 

“I’m glad.” She pauses.

 

I sit with my hands in my lap. A few moments later, a pair of young humans arrive, carrying trays. Both are about my age and dressed in identical light grey uniforms, but neither wears a collar or bears any of the other telltale signs of a slave, and both their Force-senses are too self-assured. Either Zash is a very lenient master or these are paid staff members. Perhaps it would be worth finding out how loyal they are to her. Yet another thing to save for when she’s gone.

 

The servants set food in front of us and Zash begins to serve herself. Noticing my hesitation, she says “You can eat, apprentice. You can do whatever you like. I’m the only one in this house you answer to.”

 

Nodding, I fill my plate, being careful to take as much as I can without seeming desperate. The boy returns with two cups of steaming liquid and sets them in front of us. It’s strange being the one at the table instead of trying desperately not to drop the plates or trip or make even the slightest mistake for fear of being noticed and punished. But that will never be me again. Never.

 

I start eating some sort of sour fruit I don’t recognize, topped with sugar and cooked until it’s soft with a crunchy layer on top.

 

“So, Kiarn, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself? Where are you from and how did you come to the Academy?” Zash’s voice is calm, but her eyes and Force-sense betray her interest.

 

This is a hard question. I can’t outright tell her no. I have no idea how she’ll react to so blatant a defiance this early on. But actually giving her my life story is unthinkable and I have to assume she’ll back check anything I say. “I was born on Nar Shadda. I lived there until I came to the Academy.”

 

“And how did that happen?”

 

I start in on a pile of eggs cooked with bits of meat and vegetables. “I stole something from a Sith Lord. I didn’t

know who he was at the time. I wouldn’t have done it if I had. But he caught me and instead of killing me, sent me to Korriban. I suppose he must have seen the Dark Side in me.” I look through my bangs at Zash. She seems mostly satisfied with my story, but I should still try to change the subject as soon as possible.

 

“You speak very well for a street urchin. And with a perfect Imperial accent, too.”

 

There is that. Growing up, I was surrounded by Sith Lords, Imperial officers, and their high-ranking staff members.

Upper class inflections and vocabulary are as natural for me as breathing. “I never lived on the streets!” I say, managing to put the proper annoyance into my voice. “My parents were both Imperial. Not everyone on Nar Shadda is criminal scum.”

 

“Ah.” She seems satisfied. “And you felt the need to steal from a Sith Lord because…?”

 

“It was a test. I was trying to get into one of the local gangs.” I scrape the last of the eggs into a small pile with my fork and scoop them into my mouth.

 

“Very well. Now, as my apprentice, there are a few things you should know. The first is that while your life is slightly more valuable than an Academy student’s, you’re not invulnerable. I have many rivals, and some of them would love to inconvenience me by depriving me of an apprentice.”

 

“Like Skotia?” This is much safter territory, and much more important for the immediate future.

 

“Yes. He’s the most likely to become a problem. But you need to focus on training right now and let me handle Skotia until you’re strong enough to fight him.”

 

“Fight him?” I don’t think simply killing him will go over that well with the Dark Council, who tend to frown on Sith killing each other. And much as I hate to admit it, Skotia is out of my league. I had envisioned something closer to digging up dark secrets from his past.

 

“I’m making your first task as my apprentice eliminating Skotia. We can’t proceed on the ritual until he’s gone. Find his weaknesses and strike at them. To do this, you have full use of the resources at my disposal, and I’ve arranged for someone to tutor you in lightsaber combat. You’ll meet him every morning at 0900 hours in the Citidel’s training facility.” She glances up at the wall chrono. “Oh dear, I have to go. I’ll see you at dinner.” Rising, she strides out of the room determinedly.

 

I stay at the table, finishing my breakfast. All that remains is a sweet bread drizzled with icing and the mug of hot, sweet, creamy liquid. I think I remember serving this to someone at one point, but I’ve never had it before. I have about half an hour before I need to leave for training, so I return to my room to prepare.

 

This is going to be an interesting apprenticeship. Very interesting.

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Part 41: Sport Hunting

 

I emerge from the Sith Sanctum hot, sweaty, and tired. My lightsaber tutor is an elderly human man who never gave his name and mostly speaks in angry barks. He’s not cruel, but his brusqueness makes me miss Erilinn’s advanced classes. Still, I’m not complaining. He knows what he’s doing with a double-bladed lightsaber.

 

It’s raining, to no one’s surprise, although not quite as hard as it was when I went inside. I’m exhausted and my limbs are shaking, but I realize that I’m already nearly at the Mandalorian Enclave. Now is as good a time as any to look for the murderer I said I’d try to find last night. I head in that direction.

 

The balcony that serves as a pathway connecting the three branches of the Citadel- Sith, Mandalorians, and Imperial Intelligence- is well populated, but not overly crowded. No one pays me any more attention than it takes to get out of my way. It doesn’t take long to reach the Mandalorian Enclave.

 

A few beings in colorful armor stand around the entrance, chatting easily. The ones that have their helmets off show a surprisingly high percentage of aliens for Kaas, but none that match the description of tall, skinny, wrinkled, and red.

 

And then I see a familiar face. Or rather, two. The mercenaries from the Black Talon lean on one of the railings, the blond one smoking a cigara and the brunette staring into the clouds with a vacant expression. Probably paying attention to the flow of data from her cybernetics. Neither appears to notice me, but the Force tells me that the blond does, at least. I struggle to remember their names. I must be going soft. I never have problems recalling details like this before.

 

“Hunters,” I say as I approach, deciding that this is more Sith-like anyway.

 

The brunette straightens abruptly and gives a small bow. “My lord.”

 

Her companion reacts more slowly, almost lazily. “What is it?” she says, with a complete lack of respect that I ignore. Just because I am a Sith doesn’t mean I get to act like one.

 

“I’m looking for a man who’s supposed to spend a lot of time here.” I repeat the brief description the man gave me last night and they look at each other. They probably won’t tell me if I say why I need to find him. “I want to hire him for a job.”

 

“You must mean Renegin,” says the brunette. “I can go get him.”

 

“Hold on,” says the blond. “What about us? Whatever the job is, I can handle it. Probably cheaper, too.”

 

“Not this one,” I reply. She shrugs and takes another puff of her cigarra.

 

The brunette returns a few minutes later with a Deveronian in tow. As soon as he sees me, raw terror fills the Force. He knows what’s coming. I surpress a smile. He deserves a little dread. Signalling to him to follow, I walk briskly to an empty section of the walkway.

 

When we’re sufficiently far away from everyone else, I fix him with a look. He shifts, but his voice is calm. “I have a shuttle to catch in a few minutes. What do you need?”

 

“You’ve been a bad boy, Renegin,” I say, letting my voice drop low.

 

He takes a step back. “Hold on, I didn’t kill those people! You’ve been talking to that loudmouth in the square, haven’t you?”

 

I step forward, closing the gap between us. “So what if I have?”

 

“Just hear me out! Everyone I’ve killed deserved it.”

 

Something in his voice makes me pause. “Explain. Quickly.”

 

“I was hired to tag random citizens. That’s all I was told, and I stopped when the bodies started appearing.”

 

“You never wondered why you were being asked to tag people?”

 

“In my line of work you don’t ask questions. Especially not when it’s the Sith hiring you.”

 

What? “Sith?”

 

He misunderstands my interest and hurriedly tries to explain. “Well, not the Sith proper. A couple of apprentices hired me to organize a ‘game’ for them.”

 

“Ah.” That doesn’t really surprise me, if it’s true.”

 

“When I confronted them about it, they just laughed. Said they’d kill me if I tried to do anything about it.”

 

The Force tells me he’s not lying. A bit of sympathy makes its way into me in spite of myself. “Who were they?”

 

“I don’t know their names, and they’ll kill me if I tell you anyway.”

 

“If it’s not them, it’ll be you.” I reach for my lightsaber. I don’t want to kill him, but someone has to take the fall for this.

 

He holds up his hands to stop me. “Wait! I have an idea.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“What if I gave you the tagging gun? You could tag Sith acolytes and the apprentices would attack them instead. I’m sure one of them will survive, and the whole thing will come out. Even if it don’t, they’ll stop once they figure out they can’t trust the tags.”

 

It does seem like it could work. And I might be able to use it as a chance to eliminate some of my stronger rivals, once I find out who they are. “That will suffice. Give me the gun.” He hands it over. “Now, I wouldn’t stay on Dromund Kaas if I was you. The Sith will still come after you when the realize you rigged the game.”

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t. My shuttle leaves in an hour. Thank you, Lord, for my life.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

I watch as he disappears back into the Mandalorian Enclave and slide the tagging device into my belt pouch. As I return to the speeder platform, I notice the young bounty hunters staring at me. Ignoring them, I climb into a speeder to return to Zash’s.

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Sorry for the delay, needed a little break to get over writer's block.

 

Part 42: Dinner at Zash's

 

 

On my way back to Zash’s, I discreetly tag a few apprentices I see, making sure not to touch the device with my hands. Tomorrow, I’ll tag a few more and dispose of the thing in an alley somewhere. It’s almost too easy. I wonder what my life would have been like if things had worked out differently, if I didn’t have so much to avenge. Would I be like these other Sith, inflicting pain for the fun of it?

 

The house is quiet as I enter. The servants are either gone or out of sight, and Zash said she wouldn’t be home until dinner. I toy with the idea of breaking into her study, but decide that that kind of boundary pushing should wait until Zash trusts me a little more. She’ll never trust me completely if she knows what’s good for her, but any security measures she has in place will relax after a while if nothing happens.

 

Instead, I retreat to my room on the top floor and dig out one of the scrolls I stole from the Academy. Immersed myself in lightsaber forms, I’m the most calm I’ve been in weeks. I can almost forget everything that’s happened and pretend I’m studying in the library with Meiko. Almost.

 

I look up. Khem stands over me. I still have trouble reading his expressions, but I think this one is unhappy. “You should not have brought me here, little Sith.”

 

“I don’t like Kaas much either, but I need to be here, and where I go, you go.”

 

“You may have bound my will, but bonds can be broken.”

 

“I know.” For some reason, this doesn’t bother me, though a massive, nearly immortal creature who wants to eat

me should.

 

“And when I break free, I will devour you.”

 

“I know. But for now, you serve me.”

 

He makes a harrumphing noise and continues standing over me. “Is there something you need?”

 

“No.” Turning, he returns to the corner he was sitting in before. I return to my reading, feeling oddly unsettled.

 

* * * *

 

That evening, I eat dinner in the dining room again with Zash. The servants wait on us in a room dimly but warmly lit by candles as rain pounds the transparasteel window and occasional bursts of lighting flash along the street. I eat the meal- bread topped with some sort of delicate fungus that I suspect is rather expensive, well-seasoned roasted meat, a pile of creamy grains, and mixed vegetables in a vinegar-based sauce. The glass to the right of my plate is full of ice water and the boy fills the goblet next to it with another clear liquid.

 

“I hope you had a productive day, apprentice,” says Zash, lifting a piece of meat to her mouth.

 

“I did, Lord.”

 

“Excilent. I, however, have not. Skotia is relentless. I’m afraid we’ll have to step up our plans to eliminate him.”

 

“How do you plan to do it?” I’m genuinely curious. From what I’ve seen so far, their rivalry is no secret, so if he were to suddenly die, the blame would likely land on her. Presumably she has a plan to avoid that.

 

“Originally, I had a much more elaborate scheme in mind, but the change in plans may actually work to our advantage. No one would suspect a mere apprentice of assassinating a Sith Lord. I’ll make sure I’m seen prominently at an event when you do it, and no one will think to implicate you.”

 

I know better than to think that will work, but I nod in agreement. She continues. “The way I see it, the major obstacles in our way are several-fold. First, we have to find a way to separate him from his bodyguards. Second, we need to disable his cybernetics to weaken him. And third, I’ll have to arrange a suitable alibi for myself.”

 

“Perhaps you could go offworld for a few days?” I’d like to spend a little while exploring her resources without her leaning over my shoulder.

 

“That could work, though it would be rather obvious if I disappeared just long enough for Skotia to turn up dead.”

 

“Though the same could be said for nearly any excuse you might use.” I take a sip from the goblet. Wine. I’ve only had wine a few times, mostly in the form of sips stolen from the half-empty glasses of dinner guests as I cleared the table. The dry, bitter taste still puts me off, though.

 

“I suppose. But that’s not the only thing I intended to bring up tonight.” She sets down her fork and looks at me. “I reviewed the holovids of your trials again, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

 

My body grows cold. “What about them?”

 

She sets a datapad that must have been resting on an adjacent seat on the table. “Your scores are rather interesting. Your first trial, of intellect, was quite average, and your athleticism test was headed in the same direction. Yet you came in fifth from the last. Why did you go back to help the Miraluka?”

 

I hesitate.

 

“Does talking about this bother you?” says Zash.

 

Yes, I want to say. Yes, having my weakness and pain and guilt dragged up and analyzed like it’s a piece of literature bothers me. But instead I shake my head and say “Why should it?”

 

“Good. So why did you help her?”

 

“Because she was my friend.”

 

“And yet you killed her. You killed her faster than a good number of the other acolytes killed their partners.”

 

“I learned in the second trial that my affection for her was a weakness. I thought I would be able to use her as an ally, but instead she dragged me down. She had to die, it is the way of the Sith.” This is so close to the truth of why I did it, and it sounds callous and arrogant coming out of my mouth. I want to throw up.

 

“A fine response. But do you really believe it?” Her brown eyes fix my own and I force myself to meet them.

 

“Yes.”

 

“So were I to produce her this instant and ask you to kill her again, you would?”

 

“Yes.” I am a despicable being.

 

“Excellent.” She finishes the piece of cake the servants have brought and stands. “I just wanted to clear that up.”

 

I wait just long enough to ensure that she’s safely in her study before I hurry to my room. Ignoring Khem, I climb into bed without taking off my boots and pull the blankets over my head. Fighting to keep nausea at bay, I cry silently until at some point I fall into a restless sleep.

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Kind of a short post today, sorry.

 

Part 43: First Mission

 

 

Sweat pours down my face as I contort my body into yet another form I would have though impossible months ago. “No!” shouts my tutor, whose name I still haven’t learned. “Your grip is entirely wrong! Start over.”

Suppressing a sigh, I return to the beginning of the maneuver and try to copy the intricate movements he showed me at the start of the lesson. Though my lessons are tiring and often brutal- he likes to shock students when he gets frustrated- I will admit that I’m getting better. And with the better and more abundant food at Zash’s, my stamina has been improving as well.

 

My foot slips and I’m fighting to stay upright when to my surprise, Zash herself strides into the room. This is unusual. She’s never watched my training before. In fact, apart from eating meals together several times a week, she rarely even acknowledges my existence, spending most of her time at home locked in her study. So why is she here now?

 

“That will be all for today. Kiarn, come with me.” I follow, a little *****le of excitement and fear racing down my neck.

 

She leads us to her office, which looks exactly the same as it did my first night here. Perching on the edge of her desk, she leans forward and smiles excitedly. “I have a surprise for you, Apprentice.” I can already guess what it is. “I’ve been doing some research on Darth Skotia’s possible weaknesses, and I may have found a lead.” She pauses, obviously expecting some sort of reaction.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Out in the jungle, a group of slaves has recently revolted. They were working on an enormous statue, which still stands unfinished. I’ve discovered that Skotia and various agents of his have been making an inordinate number of trips to that region. I want you to investigate. I believe he may have something of great importance hidden there.”

 

I bow. “It will be done, Lord.”

 

Zash frowns slightly. “And take the Dashade with you. I don’t want him left in the house alone while you’re gone, and you’re the only one he’ll obey.”

 

Well, there goes most of the subtlety I was planning. Khem sticks out of a crowd more than I do. I’ll have to come up with something else. “Yes, Lord.”

 

She reaches into a pocket of her robe and hands me a credit chip. “This is to aid you in your mission. Give me the rest when you return. You may go.”

 

I hurry out of the Sanctum, pausing only to check the denomination of the credit chip. I’ve never had this much money on my person before. Though most of the households I served were extraordinarily wealthy, I was always too young, too low-status, or too untrusted to be given shopping errands. How am I going to spend it?

 

Calm down, Kiarn. You need to be logical about this. The fact that Zash asked for the rest back indicates that she’s expecting me to have some left over at the end of this. And I’d better save half of it for things like bribes and taxi fare. I can't buy everything I might want.

 

As I walk past a shop, I catch sight of my reflection in the transparisteel. I look a little better than I did when I arrived, but still small and pathetic in my rain-drenched Academy uniform, and a plan starts to form in my mind.

Smiling, I hurry back to Zash’s house to start researching.

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Part 44: Quell

 

 

The monstrosity known as The Unfinished Colossus stands half-completed in the middle of the jungle three days’ walk outside Kaas city. According to my research, a Sith lord started the project as a way to impress his master, a Darth Vowrawn. The slaves he brought in rebelled, and now the whole area is chaos. A rather fitting monument to Sith arrogance and stupidity.

 

I climb out of the speeder behind Khem and look around the Imperial encampment. Apparently the situation has become embarrassing enough that the military has gotten involved with trying to suppress the uprising. It’s rather small as military encampments go, just a dozen or so tents and a few prefab shelters that are probably storage for things that can’t get wet and possibly a medical facility or quarters for whatever officers are here.

 

A few soldiers sit outside one of the tents, laughing and smoking. The look up as my speeder arrives, then go back to their conversation. I walk down the muddy path that defines the main area of the camp, head up and what I hope is an arrogant enough expression that no one will question my Sith status, despite my ragged slave clothing.

 

The commanding officer’s tent is easy to find: the front flap is opened into a sort of awning to keep out the rain, and several men in officer’s uniforms and a dark-robed Sith stand around a table covered in laminated maps and reports. I’m guessing this isn’t the same one who ordered the statue in the first place. If he’s still alive, he’s probably trying to distance himself from the project as much as possible.

 

One of them looks up at my approach. He’s not a young man, but far from old, with a typical Imperial military look- dark blond hair cut close to his head, serious face, black armor trimmed in red. “What do you- oh, Lord, I’m sorry.” He bows his head and the others besides the Sith follow suite. I acknowledge him with a nod. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

 

“I need to get to the colossus. I plan to slip in, using this disguise to avoid attention.” I indicate the rags I’m wearing. “What I need is a guarantee from you that I won’t get shot by accident.”

 

“Of course, my lord. Anything you need. Ensign Shye, at your service, by the way. Is there anything else you require?”

 

“I don’t think so.” I engineered this whole thing to be self-sufficient. I don’t think anything I’ve said is particularly worthy of note, and mentioning how much it needs to be kept secret will only arouse suspicion.

 

As I turn to leave, he says “While you’re out there, would you mind doing something in service of the Empire?”

 

I stop, surprised. “What is it?”

 

“As you must know, the slaves around the Colossus have been rebelling. Originally, they fought as a single faction. But now some of them are turning on each other. If you could find out why, I would be extremely grateful.”

I’m much more inclined to side with the slaves in this conflict, but a flat refusal would raise suspicion. “If I can spare the time.”

 

“Thank you, lord.”

 

The Sith looks up. He’s a shriveled-looking human man with an unnatural light in his eyes. “While you’re out there…”

 

Great. “Yes?”

 

“We obviously need to crush this rebellion as quickly as possible, but it will be useless if we don’t prevent future uprisings like it. What we need to do is destroy it so thoroughly that all the other slaves will be too afraid of what will happen to them if they try.”

 

A cold feeling creeps up my spine and I try to keep my voice level. I don’t like where this is going. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“One of my scientists has developed a beautiful toxin called Quell. It kills inevitably, but slowly and very, very painfully.” A sick smile spreads across his face. “It should discourage anyone thinking about insurrection. I want you to put it into the slaves’ water supply.”

 

“Are you sure that’s the wisest course of action, lord? Perhaps-“

 

The Sith cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t question me, apprentice. I was training acolytes when you

were still learning to walk. Go see my assistant, Sergeant Slarin. He has the toxin and can explain the proper dosage and handling.”

 

I leave the tent with guilt already settling onto my shoulders. I’d rather join with the rebelling slaves, help them rise up against the injustices of their Sith overlords. But I know it’s futile, that I’d go down an unknown martyr in service of a cause doomed from the start. I may end up a martyr, but I’m determined that I won’t die unknown.

 

But how can I avoid killing them? I’m under direct orders from this Sith, who probably already noticed my hesitation. “You do not agree with the other one, little Sith?” says Khem.

 

I stop. “It’s not that I don’t think this rebellion needs to be dealt with.” My definition of dealt with may be different than his, but it’s true. “But needlessly torturing the slaves, with no information to be gained and nobody out here to see it serves no purpose. It doesn’t prove your strength or reinforce your position or anything else. It’s pure

sadism.”

 

“I do not agree. Poisoning the slaves will show that you are strong enough to sacrifice resources for your goals.”

 

This hits a little too close to home for me, and I fall silent. Stopping the first soldier I see, I ask him to bring me Sergeant Slarin. He does, and the man leads me to one of the prefab shelters and pulls a crate off a shelf. There’s something in his Force-sense… “You do not approve of what I’m going to do?”

 

“It’s an excellent plan, lord.” He’s lying.

 

I drop my voice. “You find it as needlessly brutal as I do, don’t you.”

 

He nods slightly. “Multiple studies have shown that the use of torture on defeated enemies only makes the survivors fight harder. The only reason Lord Drowl is so insistent on this method is his enjoyment of watching sentients suffer.”

 

“So what do you propose instead?”

 

“You can still use Quell. But there’s enough here to increase the dosage to levels that will kill within a few hours, without nearly as much pain, as opposed to Drowl’s days of agony. Just add the larger dose to the slave’s water supplies and it should get the job done.”

 

I take the vials and bring my voice back to normal levels. “Are there any precautions I need to take with the poison before I put it into the water?”

 

He shakes his head. “Avoid getting any of it on your skin or clothes. If you do, wash it immediately with as much water as you can. It’s difficult to absorb through the skin, but not impossible.”

 

“Thank you, Sergeant.” I turn to leave. “For everything,” I add quietly.

 

 

[Darth__Reaver]

Can I just say something? +A and 10/10

For dedication. /bow

[Mirdthestrill]

Thanks, Darth_Reaver, I love doing this project (most of the time, anyway), and it always makes me happy to hear that other people like reading it.

 

So, this was actually ready on Saturday, but I forgot to put it up until this afternoon when I decided to look something up on the latest installment and realized that it wasn't there. So, here you go, and sorry about that.

 

Part 45: Ristor

 

 

Khem and I push our way through the dripping tropical undergrowth. So far, I haven’t seen any sign of the rebelling slaves or Darth Skotia’s people, but we’re still a ways from the colossus.

 

I haven’t decided yet what I want to do about this rebellion. If I was still in a position to do so, I’d be out there with them. But I’m not nearly powerful enough to reveal my hand yet. Still, nothing would induce me to use Lord Drowl’s Quell toxin on them as he suggested. Joining them is untenable, torturing them is unthinkable. Ideally, I’d simply let them exist in the jungle, help them hide away where the Empire can’t or won’t find them. But I’ll have to find them first.

 

There’s something up ahead, a slightly lighter patch in the gloomy jungle. A clearing. Ducking under a giant fern leaf, I enter the small open area and breathe deeply. Korriban taught me endurance and the better food and more focused training here has helped increase my stamina, but the endless hiking through the jungle is tiring. Liquid rolls down my face and I’m not sure how much of it is rain and how much is sweat.

 

Leaning against a tree, I take a sip from the water bottle on my pack. At least dehydration won’t be much of a threat here. Unlike Korriban, water pools in leaves, drips from the vines, and forms puddles on the ground.

 

The eternal gloom is darkening into what passes for night, and I wonder if I should stop and sleep. I’m exhausted, and even once I reach the colossus, I’ll still have to find whatever is hidden there and deal with the slaves in one way or another. But no, I can keep going for a while longer, and nighttime is when the larger predators come out. Khem doesn’t need to rest, and neither do I. Anything else is weakness.

 

I straighten up and am just about to plunge into the denser forest again when something flits along the edges of my Force-sense. I’ve been aware of the various beasts hidden in the trees all day, but this is different. This creature is sentient. Is it a slave? One of Skotia’s minions? Someone else from the Imperial camp? Whoever it is, it’s too far away for me to tell much about it except that it appears to be alone, and isn’t particularly frightened, only cautious.

 

Motioning Khem to be still, I say in a low voice “Wait here, but come immediately if you feel me call you.” Sounds carry a long way in the jungle, and I don’t need him crashing around behind me.

 

Trying to be quiet now, I pad through the trees, toward the presence. As I approach, it becomes more distinct. It’s human or near human, most likely male, and doesn’t bear any of the distinctive thought patterns I would expect from a professional soldier or a rebelling slave. One of Skotia’s people, most likely.

 

After nearly forty-five minutes of creeping through territory that would have taken ten at my normal pace, I stop behind a tree and try to bring focus onto myself. If I can pull off that invisibility trick again, this should be simple. Breathing deeply, I imagine myself getting lighter and lighter, my hair dulling and my skin fading to transparent. I look down at my arm. It flickers, disappears, then gradually fades back in.

 

I won’t be able to sustain this very long. Not long enough to rely on. I’ll have to try the direct approach. Stepping from behind the tree, I inhale one more time and charge toward the man ahead of me. He spins around, drawing a blaster pistol and firing at me.

 

Despite his surprise and lack of time to aim, he’s a pretty good shot. If I were an ordinary assailant, I would have taken several bolts in the chest. As it is, I deflect them into the trees and continue my charge. He turns to run. I lift him into the air with a gesture and slow to a walk.

 

His eyes and Force-sense are full of fear as I approach, but he keeps his mouth shut. Sending out a mental call for Khem, I say “What have we here?” He remains silent.

 

The Dashade appears a few minutes later, running at full speed with his sword out. “Where is the enemy?” he demands.

 

“I’ve taken care of it, Khem.” I gesture to the man, who has gotten even more worried-looking at the sight of a massive, muscle-bound, sword-wielding alien. “But I need to get him to talk. Can you hold him for me?”

 

“Of course, little Sith.” He sounds pleased. When he has a good grip on the man’s arms, I release my hold.

Immediately, the man starts struggling and kicking, though it doesn’t do much good on Khem’s thick hide. I pace slowly in front of him, trying to strike a balance between close enough to be intimidating and far enough away to avoid his flailing. I don’t really want to hurt him. To be honest, I don’t particularly care what happens to him. So I’m hoping that intimidation and Force-suggestion will do the work for me. “It’s not often I find well-fed Imperials such as yourself wandering through the forest,” I say. “You must be here for a reason.”

 

He remains silent. “I would rather let you go unharmed, but I really must know who you are and what you’re doing here. Let’s start with your name.”

 

More obstinate silence. Time to pull out a trick, then. The need to avoid thinking about a particular bit of information inevitably brings it to the forefront of your mind, and if I can get him to recall the information I need, it should be fairly easy to pick it out with the Force. “Or, don’t tell me. Don’t think about your name at all, or who you work for, or what you’re doing here. I don’t want to know your name. That name, the one that your master uses to command you, that your children yell when you come home, that your wife whispers across the pillow at night. I don’t want to know your name.”

 

He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, and I take that opportunity to dive into his mind. I’ve never been good at reading thoughts, but with my priming, the information I want shouldn’t be that hard to find.

 

Sure enough, it is. His name is Ristor Hetera and he is indeed married, with several children. I continue talking. “You have lovely children, Ristor. I’m sure you didn’t want to leave them to come out here. But you wouldn’t dream of saying no to your master, would you? Did he promise you anything extra for coming here? Perhaps some time off? Sith can be generous sometimes.” Yes, it was Skotia who sent him.

 

“And I’m sure he wouldn’t have sent you if it wasn’t important. I’m sure whatever he needs here is essential to his plans. You should feel honored that he asked you to come for it. This thing that he thinks is so precious that he’s willing to send operatives into a war zone to retrieve it. This thing that he needs to defeat Lord Zash…”

 

And for the first time, he speaks. “I don’t know what it does.”

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know what the device does. I’ve told you everything I know. Now please, let me go.”

 

“You were sent to retrieve an artifact, though. You must know where it is. Tell me, and I’ll let you go.”

 

He shakes his head. “I cannot tell you that.”

 

I try to dive into his mind again, but the spell has been broken and he’s much more prepared for my presence. I can barely stay there, let alone search for anything. Time to switch tactics, then. “I’m sorry, Ristor. I don’t like doing this.” Letting lightning crackle between my fingers, I touch him lightly on the shoulder. He pulls his breath in sharply but doesn’t say a word. “I’ll stop as soon as you tell me where you were going.”

 

“I’ll never tell you.”

 

Concentrating on keeping control, I gradually increase the intensity of the current. I don’t know if I can produce one strong enough to kill someone, I haven’t managed it so far, but I have been getting stronger with training, and I’d rather not discover it this way.

 

Ristor’s face grows more and more pale and sweat appears on his face. He’s biting his lip so hard that a trickle of blood slides out the corner of his mouth. I feel a little sick. What am I doing? I was fully ready to try finding Skotia’s cache on my own. Why do I need to torture this man to get it?

 

Just as I’m ready to give up, he says in a voice thick with pain and unhappiness “At the food of the colossus. There’s a vault under it, and I was supposed to pick up something from it. He didn’t say what.”

 

Immediately, I stop the lightning and step back. “Thank you, Ristor. My master will be very happy that I could complete her task so quickly.”

 

He bows his head. “You’re welcome, lord.”

 

The already sick feeling in my gut intensifies. “You seem like a good man, Ristor. I’m sorry.” Igniting my lightsaber, I slice off his head cleanly, not even singing Khem’s flesh. “I’ll make sure your wife and children are cared for if I can.” I didn’t want to do that. But what else could I do? If I can get information out of him, Darth Skotia certainly will be able to. He was a loose end. And he faced certain death anyway if he returned without the artifact. This was probably extremely quick and painless in comparison. But it was still a vile act, and yet another thing added to the growing weight on my conscience.

 

Stop with this weakness, Kiarn. You’ll have to do much worse things to get ahead in the Sith. Remember Meiko? I start through the jungle again, managing to keep my tone light. “Come on, Khem. Let’s go find us an artifact.”

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Not much exciting happening today, sorry. But I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it, and good luck studying for finals to all of my student buddies!

 

Part 46: At the Foot of the Colossus

 

 

By the next morning, I’ve reached the colossus. The area around its base has been cleared for about a hundred meters on all sides, with the open section scattered with abandoned building tools and workstations. Anything small enough to easily transport has already been taken by the slaves to use in their rebellion, but the larger items remain and should provide decent cover until I reach the scaffolding around the statue itself.

 

I can’t see anyone around as I peer through the last layer of trees, but the uprising wouldn’t have lasted this long if they didn’t even post guards, so I remain hidden. I’ll have to get across the clearing without being spotted and find the entrance at the base. That could take a while, but hopefully the scaffolding will conceal me. The real problem is Khem. He can probably get to the statue unnoticed, he can at least run reasonably quietly if needed, but he’s too large and conspicuous to fade into the shadows. “Wait here,” I tell him.

 

He nods his acknowledgment, though I can tell he’s not happy about getting left behind again. I hold still, willing myself to become invisible again. It works for a moment, my body becoming almost transparent. But when I take a step, I can feel myself fading back in, and by the time I’m out of the trees, I’m fully visible again. I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way, then.

 

Walking slowly and trying not to draw attention to myself with quick movement, I make my way to the nearest pieces of debris, where I wait for a few moments, using the Force to check if anyone saw. I continue in this fashion until I reach the scaffolding surrounding the statue. The shadows it throws should be enough to obscure me from anyone’s notice unless I’m moving. It’s time to find the door.

 

Ristor said it was at the base of the statue, but didn’t elaborate. I should have made tell me where it was specifically. It will probably be obscured in some fashion, but unless the slaves have significantly changed things around here, it should still be accessible. Whoever went to retrieve the artifact would probably have to slip in unnoticed, which would be difficult if getting through the door was a long and arduous process.

 

Creeping through the shadows under the scaffolding, I keep my Force senses alert for anyone nearby. I can feel a few people a ways off, but none of them seem alarmed, like they would if they had noticed me. There’s still no sign of the door, though.

 

Finally, after nearly an hour, I find what could be one: a section of the statue’s base has been covered with boards, in a way that makes no sense as a method of holding up the scaffolding. I signal Khem to come over. He helps me pull on the barrier, which swings away with little effort to reveal a black hole in the stonework.

 

“Are we going in?” Khem asks.

 

“Of course we are.” I take my lightsaber in my hand, igniting it for light, and step inside. The tunnel smells a little musty, but doesn’t feel as old as the tombs on Korriban. Which it couldn’t be, since construction on the statue hadn’t begun yet when I left Kaas last time. The floor is smooth stone, and the walls are lined in metal plating. I wonder how it got in here. Did Skotia have some of the slaves dig it? What happened to them afterword? I have the feeling he wouldn’t let them live, knowing what was under here.

 

Khem and I follow the tunnel as it slopes down. After a while, I realize that we’re spiraling down into the ground. After nearly ten minutes, during which time I realize that at least part of this structure must have existed before work on the Colossus began, we reach a small room containing nothing but a closed door. This must be where he keeps it.

 

I try the door. Locked. No surprise there. Inspecting the lock, I see that it’s of the type that requires biometric access. I don’t have nearly the computer skills necessary to crack it, and I don’t want to spend any longer here than I need to. Sticking my lightsaber through the door, I slice a clean circle through it and nudge the dislodged piece of metal out of the way.

 

By the eerie red light of my saber, I can see that the door led to a second room, this one a bit larger than the one I stand in. I climb into it, Khem just barely able to follow through the hole. A computer console sits against one wall, and in the center of the room stands a pedestal that resembles something you might find in a museum. On it, I can see an ancient-looking stone tablet covered in inscriptions and surrounded by a shield. This must be the artifact Ristor mentioned. The controls to lower the field are probably on the console.

 

Wary of any traps, I walk over to the computer. I reach for the button to turn it on, but see that it already is. As the screen flickers to life, my heart almost stops. Across it is a red flashing message reading “Perimeter Breech. Reinforcements incoming.”

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Despite my best intentions, writing has been going kind of slow lately. Busy with finals, holiday prep, and other stuff. But here's another chapter.

 

Part 47: The Tablet

 

 

How long since I triggered the alarm? I wonder. And where are the reinforcements coming from? I could have anywhere from several hours down to a few seconds, depending. In any case, I’d better not waste time.

 

I’ve never been good with computers. This might get interesting. I sneak a look at Khem, wondering if he’d be better at this than I would, but decide that anyone who apparently still hasn’t quite realized that Tualk Hord is gone forever is probably not up to date on the latest computer technology. I continue pressing buttons in an attempt to clear the alarm message and get to the actual controls. Finally, one brings me to a screen covered in text and boxes to enter commands.

 

Now what do I do? I wish I’d thought to learn a bit more about computers before I came down here. Another thing to do once I get back. Skimming the rows of characters, I find what could be a deactivation switch, and press it.

Immediately, bolts of electricity begin arcing around the room in pale blue arcs and only Force-enhanced reflexes allow me to get out of the way. The air is thick with charge and I can feel my hair lifting off my shoulders. I duck to avoid another blast. Where are they coming from?

 

One of the tendrils of energy catches Khem and he stumbles, but amazingly stays on his feet. How tough is he? If he can stand jolts of electricity obviously meant to kill, how did I manage to defeat him earlier? Perhaps he’s more vulnerable to Force-based energy.

 

My reflection is cut short by an arc racing towards my chest and another headed for my knees. Can’t duck. I launch myself into the air and times seems to slow as the electricity passes under my feet. Landing, I drop into a crouch to let another one pass over my head.

 

This doesn’t seem to be just a brief pulse, then. I’ll have to find a way to turn it off or just grab the tablet and get out of here before my coordination slips or the reinforcements get here. I glance at the pedestal. The force field is still up.

 

Rolling out of the way of another pulse, I turn my attention to the computer terminal. Electricity crackles the air around it, it but it appears to be functional. My acrobatics have moved me halfway to the other side of the room, so I begin to slowly make my way back, dodging lightning as I do. “Khem, go wait in the hall,” I say as I do. He may be tough, but he’s not as good at avoiding this trap as I am, and I don’t want to have to drag him back to the Imperial encampment. He starts moving toward the door.

 

I reach the computer terminal and try another button. I don’t really expect it to work, just hope it won’t unleash another trap on us. To my surprise, out of the corner of my eye I see the force field flicker off. A moment later, an alarm starts blaring.

 

Dodging the bursts of electricity that still shoot around the room, I head for the door, pulling the tablet to my hand with the Force. It’s cold and smooth in my fingers, its carvings worn ridges in the stone. I’d love to have the chance to look at it right now, but someone could be here to investigate the alarms any minute.

 

I catch up to Khem and together we run up the long, winding tunnel and burst into the darkness outside. There’s no sign of anyone coming to investigate, but I know it won’t be that way for long. We have to get back into the shelter of the jungle. Leading Khem towards the tree line, I keep watch for anyone approaching.

 

A moment after we duck into the shadows, I can feel them, and a few minutes later a half-dozen speeders appear from the trees about a quarter of the way around the edge of the clearing. I hold as still as I can, counting on the dark and the large amounts of vegetation around us to hide our presence from any sensors- technological or Force-based- that they might have.

 

They don’t seem to notice as four of them disappear into the shadows at the foot of the colossus, leaving two to guard the exterior. Slowly, I remove my pack, slide the tablet into it, and put it back on. “Come on, Khem. Let’s go.”

We slip through the woods. For a creature of his bulk, Khem can be surprisingly quiet when he wants to be. I don’t hear or sense any signs of pursuit, but they’ll probably be combing the forest later. We continue to trek through the darkness for maybe an hour before I notice another presence. Actually, several of them. I reach out to touch their minds, wondering if they’re another detachment of guards, a group of soldiers from the Imperial camp, or someone else.

 

The group isn’t particularly alarmed on the surface, and they don’t have the determination of people with a specific mission. That rules out both of my first ideas. They don’t seem imminently hostile, but the undercurrent of their minds is all anger and fear and something else, almost… fanaticism. These must be the rebelling slaves, then. Perfect. I’d been planning to get in contact with them anyway.

 

Pulling the ragged cloak of my slave disguise over my lightsaber, I set my pack down under a tree and note its location. I’ve always had a knack for not getting lost, and I think if I make enough effort to really feel this place in the Force, I should be able to find it again. Should.

 

Instructing Khem to hide his own weapon- an order he does not take kindly to- I walk on a little ways in the

direction of the approaching party. Soon, I can hear them, obviously trying to be quiet but failing miserably. “Hello?” I call softly.

 

The sound of them crashing through the bushes stops, and then a suspicion-filled male voice says “Who is it?”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I asked you first.”

 

“If you are who I think you are, two more to join your cause.”

 

A pause. I hear him consulting with someone else, female, but their voices are too low for me to make out what they’re saying. “Why don’t you come with us?” he says at last. “But approach slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them. Both of you.”

 

“Alright.” I raise my arms above my head and walk toward the group. This is the perfect opportunity to see a rebellion from the inside and find out some information. Maybe I’ll even be able to avoid killing them all.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Great lightning panic. Also now I sort of want to train Khem up on slicing and watch him go toe to digital toe with T7-01.

[Mirdthestrill]

Bright- Hmm, that would be interesting. I haven't really done anything with crew skills in my fics, that's something I should think about.

 

Well, finals are done, and I managed to get a little writing done in between!

 

Part 48: Meeting a Rebel

 

 

The rebels lead me and Khem several miles back to their camp. Although they keep giving us curious looks, they don’t seem inordinately suspicious. As we walk, I inspect them more closely. There’s five of them, mostly human, but there is one twi’lek. All wear ragged outfits similar to my own and shock collars that have been smashed to the point of no longer functioning and look a bit underfed. The woman and one of the men are the only two in the group to have long hair, and it’s tangled and stringy. They carry an assortment of weapons, from hand-carved clubs to stolen blaster rifles.

 

We reach the camp as night is coming on, the already dark sky becoming darker and the thunderstorms dying down a bit. The place is larger than I expected, several dozen tents at least, with figures clustered around small fires and wandering the muddy paths.

 

The group that brought me in leads me amongst them to a tent slightly larger and better-maintained than the rest, located near the center of the camp. The other rebels give me interested glances, but don’t stare very long. The camp is small enough that they probably know most of the members by sight, and my appearance is distinctive enough that I stand out, but new members are probably common.

 

The man who’s seemed in charge of the group thus far gestures for me to go inside. I do. The tent is furnished much like the command tent back at the Imperial base, although in a much poorer fashion: the table is wobbly and made of wood covered in pits and scratches, and the maps are hand-drawn on scraps of flimsiplast. Sitting in one of the chairs is a massive bald man, covered in scars, with skin as pale as mine. He wears a collar like the rest, along with a slightly less run-down outfit. He stares at me with dark, hungry eyes. “You must be the new recruits. You honor us. Welcome to our prison.”

 

His voice is soft, gravely, passionate. I suppress a shiver. “Thank you, my lord.” I hope Khem doesn’t do anything stupid.

 

“I am Traka Un Vol, and I lead the Unchained. Join us, and we will overthrow the Sith and lead our fellow slaves to the stars!”

 

This movement is going nowhere fast. Someone who’s willing to accept me without any checking, and who has such obviously overblown ideas of his group’s prognosis is obviously crazy. Still, they might be of some use.

I smile, imitating his tone. “Yes. For too long the Sith have kept us bound, but now, we will be free. We will be strong!”

 

He studies me for a long moment, eyes taking in my dripping outfit, my thin frame, my wet, tangled hair. “How did you get those scars?”

 

“From a Sith.” Fury fills my voice. “He sent me into the wilderness on a hopeless quest designed to kill me, but I survived. I grew stronger.” It’s actually the complete truth. “A beast gave them to me.”

 

“Ah.” Another long look. “And your beast out there?”

 

“A fellow. He follows me like my own slave, and is barely more intelligent than an animal.” Khem would wring my neck if he heard that, but it will save him from having to answer questions about himself or corroborate my story.

 

“I think you will be perfect for us. You may go.”

 

“Thank you.” I duck out of the tent and look around. It’s grown still darker, and most of the group that brought me in has left. Only the twi’lek and Khem remain, standing stiffly outside the tent.

 

“Are you hungry?” he says.

 

“Yes, thank you.” I’d love some food.

 

He shows us over to a fire, where the figures clustered around it are passing a few portable ration packs back and forth. Two human men scoot over to make room for me on a log and one of them hands me a pack. “Take some, pass it on,” he grunts.

 

I pull two pieces of dried fruit from one of the pouches and hand it off to the next person. The man looks at me in approval. “What’s your name?”

 

I should use an alias here. “Nola.”

 

“Svart. You’re the new guys they just brought in, right?” He gestures to me and Khem.

 

I nod. “How long have you been here?”

 

“Only a few weeks. But Traka Un Vol decided I’m worthy and let me stay.”

 

There’s the hint of fanaticism again. I look at Khem, who’s staring curiously at a freeze-dried sausage he’s retrieved from the ration pack. He seems occupied for the moment. While I don’t doubt my monster’s intelligence, I do wonder about his loyalty and discretion. I don’t want him to reveal us, by accident or design. “How does he decide who is worthy?”

 

He shakes his head. “No one knows. But only the strongest get chosen. The rest have to leave.”

 

“Where do they go?”

 

“Don’t know. I think they have another camp somewhere.”

 

“Ah.” It sounds suspicious to me, but I don’t want to pursue it further right now. I drop my voice a little into what I hope is an interested and slightly flirtatious tone. “So how did you get here?”

 

“I was working on the colossus. When I heard about the rebellion, I knew I had to join. I mean, I’d always dreamed of overthrowing our masters, and this was the perfect chance.” His voice turns distant and he turns away from me to stare into the fire. “Traka Un Vol showed me how strong I was, told me I was worthy. With him at our head, we can overthrow the Sith, I know it.”

 

“Ah.” Something is definitely wrong here, but I think I’ve pushed enough for one night. I finish my meal and sit quietly, observing the rest of the rebels. They seem normal enough on the surface, but underneath there’s something odd about them, like there was with their leader, only less strong.

 

Finally, people begin to drift off to bed. Svart directs me to one of the tents, which is nearly full of pallets. I pick an unoccupied one and lay down, Khem taking another one beside me. Curling up into a ball, I pull the thin, patched blanket over my head and close my eyes.

 

 

 

[Mirdthestrill]

Hope everyone had a very merry Christmas, and happy New Year going forward!

 

Part 49: Zeal and Fervor

 

 

I have trouble falling asleep. I don’t know why. I’m tired and occupied enough with the current situation that I can avoid thinking about the plans, worries, and guilt that usually keep me up at night. It’s not the bed. I’ve slept in far worse. It must be the unrest in the Force that lingers like wisps of smoke in the corners of my mind.

Finally, I give up on trying to get some rest in and lie still, waiting for morning to come. The other pallets in the tent have gradually filled, and by now there’s a good dozen people, of all species, ages, and genders, sleeping quietly or noisily around me.

 

Over the noise of the snoring Trandoshan next to me, I hear someone slip into the tent. I fight to keep from tensing, but they don’t seem to have any dangerous intent. Whatever is wrong with the people here is stronger in them than some others, but mostly under control and mixed with a bit of excitement and a lot of weariness.

Whoever it is approaches me and taps me on the shoulder. I stay still, breathing as evenly as I can. Another tap. Opening my eyes, I blink slowly and roll over. “What is it?”

 

“Shh,” a female voice whispers. I can’t make out any details of its owner in the dark. “Come with me.”

 

Sitting up, I glance over at Khem and say “Why?”

 

“Traka Un Vol wishes to speak with you. I will take you too him.”

 

“OK.” I stand and follow her as she picks her way back through the sleeping people. Outside, the rain has picked up and it’s a bit cooler than it was earlier, though still steamingly hot compared to Korriban. Illuminated by the small fires, I can see that the woman who came to get me- or girl, rather- is a Cathar with scraggily fur and huge blue eyes. She leads me toward her leader’s tent. Mud slides out from under my boots with a squelching sound and water pools in my footprints.

 

When we reach the tent, she stops outside and gestures for me to go inside. It’s the same one I was in earlier, but it’s been converted to sleeping quarters: a cot with two of the thin blankets that must have been standard issue for the workers on the Colossus project is pushed against the far wall. A lantern sits in the center of the table, illuminating an open ration pack. It also appears to be more or less the same as what everyone else was eating earlier. Obviously Traka Un Vol isn’t the type to hoard the best supplies for himself while his followers suffer.

That’s something at least.

 

He gestures for me to sit down on the cot. “Welcome, fellow.” He’s wearing a vibroblade on his back and pacing back and forth with the nervous energy of children and madmen.

 

“Why did you send for me?” Especially in the middle of the night, when it appears that everyone is asleep except us and a sentry or two?

 

“I can see into your heart. I know that you share my passion, my ambition, my fire. I want you to help me.”

 

“With what?” The thought of being similar to this man makes my skin crawl, but I decide to play along and see what I can learn. I’m beginning to think that this rebellion is a lost cause for assistance, though. Everyone seems either too crazy or too weak to be of any use. I should probably try to figure out what I plan to do with them.

 

“The camp is still not pure enough. We must cleanse the weak ones so that the rest of us can rise to the stars. We will take our place among the powers of the galaxy and show them that we have power of our own!”

 

I’ve heard enough. Traka Un Vol has to go. “Yes. Yes, that is what I desire.” I slide my hand under my tunic, sliding my lightsaber out. In a single motion, I activate it and slice the man through the neck. He dies with a desperate gurgle.

 

An instant later, the Cathar girl bursts into the tent, large knife at the ready and eyes even wider than normal.

“What’s wrong?” she asks breathlessly before freezing. Her leader’s body has fallen mostly out of sight behind the table, but his head rolled toward the entrance to the tent, where it lies face-up with a rather gruesome expression. She starts making a noise that’s halfway between a scream and a snarl and lunges at me.

 

Reaching out with the Force, I wrap invisible tendrils around her throat, cutting off the noise and stopping her from moving. After a few moments, she falls to the ground, unconscious. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. I seem to be

apologizing a lot lately. Compromising a lot. I need to find a way to save someone, just once have it turn out with nobody dead. But now won’t be it. “But they were right. I can feel this fanaticism in all of you. You might lose it on your own without him around, and you might not. But you don’t have that much time. If I don’t take care of you, they’ll send someone else to do it, and they probably won’t make it fast.”

 

I deactivate my lightsaber, slide it back into its hiding place, and slip out of the tent. Returning to my sleeping quarters, I wake Khem and we move quickly through the camp. The sentries don’t seem to be paying much attention, and though I may not be able to sustain my stealth abilities, I can still be pretty quiet when I want to be. Getting a Dashade out is a bit more of a challenge, but as I’ve found out, he can be surprisingly quiet for such a large creature.

 

We disappear into the trees as the infinitesimal lightening in the sky that signals dawn is beginning. With regret, I slip the entire dose of poison into the slaves’ water tanks before I leave.

 

 

[Irongut]

Hope everyone had a very merry Christmas, and happy New Year going forward!

 

Part 49: Zeal and Fervor

 

Another new chapter! Still reading and loving the way you tell the Inquisitor's story.

 

All the best for 2015.

[Mirdthestrill]

Thank you very much, Irongut!

 

Wow, it's the 50th installment! If I remember when I started writing this correctly, it's been a little more than a year since I started, so I've been averaging around a thousand words per week posted, which isn't too bad, though I wish I was writing faster. Anyway, I couldn't think of anything super special to do for the 50th, but I did add in a little something that I hope everyone will like.

 

Part 50: Reunion

 

Contains minor spoilers for Sith Warrior Dromund Kaas

 

 

“I have your artifact,” I say, setting the tablet and a credit chip on Zash’s desk. “And your extra money.”

 

She looks up. “Ah, apprentice, you’re back. Excellent.” She returns to her work.

 

“And?” I’m not in a mood to play games. After leaving the rebel camp, I hiked back to the Imperial outpost, informed the staff of my success, and caught a speeder to Kaas City. I’m exhausted, hungry, dripping wet, and have a guilty conscience gnawing at me.

 

“And it will prove very valuable in our quest to defeat Skotia, I’m sure.”

 

“What does it do?”

 

“Well, I won’t know until, I look, apprentice.”

 

I wish she would address me by some name other than “apprentice”. It reminds me too much of when my name was “slave” or “girl” or “you there”. I am Sith now, and I should be treated with respect. But I can’t demand it, not from my master. She finishes whatever it is she was doing, and then, with what I can tell is deliberate slowness, picks up the tablet.

 

I stand still, waiting as she inspects the carvings on it, turning it over and over and smiling. “Ah, this is better than I expected. What you’ve found here, apprentice, is some sort of Trandoshan religious text. It should allow you to control Skotia’s bodyguards.”

 

That seems a little strange to me. “What do I have to do?”

 

“As far as I can tell, simply show up holding it. But I’ll have to do a bit more translation to make sure. You may

return home.”

 

“Thank you.” I don’t know what she’s planning to do about Skotia’s cybernetic implants, but she didn’t mention it, so I won’t ask. Right now I just want to sleep. Bowing, I leave the office and collect Khem, who’s been waiting outside the door.

 

We walk across the huge room that forms the central portion of the Sith Sanctum. My footsteps barely make any noise in the massive space and the shadows make my presence less obvious. I almost feel like I could disappear, hide forever in here watching the Sith come and go and listening to their secrets.

 

As I near the doorway into the lobby, I glance back and see two familiar figures stalking across the polished black floor. It’s Karanni and the twi’lek slave.

 

They look more or less the same as when I last saw them, Karanni with spiky hair, polished horns, and black tattoos, and the twi’lek with blue skin, a collar around her neck, and an unhappy expression on her face. Karanni strides along with a sense of purpose, head held high. I briefly consider trying to disappear- I’m not really feeling like talking to her right now- but she’s already spotted me and is angling toward the door.

 

“Kiarn,” she says loudly. “I see you managed to get off Korriban. I’m surprised.”

 

Fighting to keep my voice civil, I respond coolly. “Hello, Karanni.” I don’t point out that she rode the shuttle to Vaiken Spacedock with me and fought alongside me during the Brentaal Star fiasco, but I want to. “How are you doing?”

 

“Great. Darth Baras has me doing very important missions for him.” She’s lying. Her golden eyes are triumphant, yes, but in them and her Force-sense I can see conflicted emotions, even a little… could that be pain? Yes, it is. Old, deeply buried, but I know that expression well. Karanni is hurting, and for some bizarre reason, I want to figure out why[, if only to satisfy my own curiosity.I] Besides[/i], I rationalize. It could be useful. Maybe I can manipulate her with it.

 

“What have you done?” I reply, trying to strike the right balance between admiring and casual.

 

“I’m helping him interrogate a Republic spy and taking out one of his Sith rivals for him.”

 

“Who?”

 

Karanni must realize she’s said too much, because her face clouds and she turns to leave. “Come on, Vette,” she says. The twi’lek- Vette, I suppose- scurries after her, giving me one last look as she does.

 

“Let’s go too,” I say to Khem. It’s late, I’m tired, and now I have a new conundrum to puzzle over.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

Subtle, Karanni. Real subtle.

[alaurin]

I'm still getting caught up with this thread (roughly half way through now) but I wanted to pop in and say how much I'm enjoying it!!

[frauzet]

I think Kiarn is getting the nack of being Sith.

I am looking forward to the next part.

[Mirdthestrill]

Bright- Subtlety is not one of Karanni's strong points. As terrible of a person as Erius is, he had a point. She's probably not the best person to make privy to all your secrets.

 

Alaurin- glad you're enjoying it!

 

Frauzet- Kiarn is a much better Sith than she'd be willing to admit it. She at least has the "stick your nose in everyone else's business" part down.

 

Part 51: A Weekend Alone

 

 

“I’m going off-planet for a few days,” Zash says as she sits down to dinner the next day. “When I return, you will be able to kill Skotia.”

 

“Yes, Master.” Today, the servants have brought us roast meat in a thick, chunky sauce, an assortment of vegetables with herbs, and gelatin molded into delicate fluted shapes and studded with fruit. I start on the meat.

 

“Where will you be going?”

 

“Off-planet,” she says, her tone warning me not to enquire further. “I’ve found a way to neutralize Skotia’s cybernetic implants, and I need to retrieve it.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“You will remain at the house while I’m gone. Naru and Zenia will bring you anything you need.”

 

“Yes, Master,” I reply calmly, but I can’t help but feel excited. This is the chance I’ve needed, both to get to know the servants when Zash isn’t around, and to see if I can get into her office.

 

She leaves shortly after dinner, without giving me any particular instructions. I’m not planning to try either project tonight- the servants left as soon as they were done washing up, and I want her to be further away before I start inspecting her room- so instead I retreat to my room for several hours, where I browse the holonet, searching for anything interesting or useful.

 

One of the underworld sources I find says that another Great Hunt is starting up and offers speculation on who the victors might be. To my surprise, it looks like the hunter I rode to Dromund Kaas with is on the contestant list, though the author of the article doesn’t mention her. I’m not surprised. Both she and the cyborg she’s teamed up with are probably several years younger than I am, with the former seeming too reckless and the latter too inexperienced to go up against trained assassins and elite Mandalorians.

 

Nobody mentions the sudden death of the rebelling slaves by the Colossus.

 

After catching up on the news of the galaxy, I wander through the house, inspecting everything I can find. Khem follows me curiously, performing an investigation of his own. Nothing of any importance turns up, but I do discover a secret bottom in one of the vases on a side table. However, the hiding place is empty. Finally, I head to bed.

 

For once, I sleep soundly and awake feeling rested. After a quick shower and some stretching, I wander downstairs to find the male servant dusting Zash’s knick-knacks. “Hello,” I say quietly.

 

He jumps a bit and bows. “Good morning, Lord. I didn’t realize you were up.”

 

“It’s fine. You work for Zash, yes?”

 

“Yes, Lord.”

 

“How long have you worked for her?”

 

He pauses. “About three years, Lord.”

 

“Ah. And the other one, is she your sister?”

 

“Cousin, Lord.”

 

“And has she worked here for three years as well?”

 

“She started working here several months after I did.”

 

“Ah.” I realize I really don’t know how to get acquainted with people who don’t approach me first. And it’s not like

I’m that healthy of a person to know even in that case. It might be best if I just stuck with Khem. The thought of spending the rest of my life alone is a bit of a depressing one, but hardly new. I’ve never had friends besides Meiko, and I refuse to do that again. I have done, will have to do, questionable things as a Sith, but killing her was reprehensible.

 

I leave the servant to his housework and return to my room. Maybe I can try again another time, though I have a feeling that the results will be no different. For the rest of the day, I read, meditate, and practice the form exercises my lightsaber instructor has given me. I can do nearly all of them perfectly now, and his yelling at me during my lessons has diminished significantly.

 

Despite the various things I occupy myself with, by midafternoon, I’m starting to get bored. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I stare at the back of my hand and wonder what I should do. I’ll have to investigate Zash’s office tonight, but I can’t do that until the servants are gone. I trace the scar on my left wrist with one finger. I think it’s from when I fought the beast in the tomb on Korriban. It looks a little fresher than some of the others.

 

Thinking back to that fight reminds me of something I can do with my time. Remaining seated, I close my eyes and try to immerse myself in the flow of the Force, letting my body disappear and leaving only my mind anchored in the solid galaxy. I feel myself fade from view. This isn’t much. I’ve done it many times. What I have to do now is figure out how to move while remaining hidden.

 

It takes more effort than I thought possible to lift my arm a bit, and it breaks my concentration enough that I reappear almost instantly. But for the briefest moment, I was moving while invisible. It’s a good start.

 

By the time the female servant knocks on my door to tell me that dinner is ready, I’m so exhausted I can barely lift myself off the bed, but I go down to the dining room anyway. Just before she came up, I managed to walk three steps without so much as a flash of my hair showing.

 

Dinner isn’t nearly as nice with Zash gone- a noodle dish with meat and thick red sauce, salad, and a sweet, frozen desert topped with nuts- but still filling and light years ahead of anything that was part of my normal diet before.

 

Afterwards, the boy leaves and the girl stays behind for a few minutes to clear the table and wash dishes. She too leaves a half-hour later.

 

I wait for a while after she goes, to ensure that neither of them feel the need to come back for anything, and then start looking for a way to break into a Sith Lord’s bedroom. The door is too thick for me to break down, and that would be far too obvious anyway. I could never cover up the damage without someone noticing. The lock isn’t a kind that can be picked, and I don’t know how to pick locks anyway.

 

It’s possible that I could find a way to override the keycard, but that would take a long time and I don’t have the computer skills to be sure I’d succeed. No, for this, I’ll have to be clever. Sitting down against the wall of the stairwell, I stare at the door for a while. It reminds me of the trials on Korriban, the test of cunning where we had to open the door with the strange holographic keypad. At least I’m not fighting dehydration and near-starvation this

time.

 

Thinking about the trials gives me an idea. Perhaps I can use the Force to open the door somehow. It’s obviously electronic, but something mechanical must be involved to move the door itself. Moving over to it, I place my hand on its smooth metal surface and reach out with the Force. For a few seconds, I can’t tell anything at all about the shape of the parts inside, but soon I discern that there are actually very few components. The door is held shut by some sort of system that keeps the door attached to the frame and will slide back on its own if the system is released. The mechanical component simply slides the open door close enough for the shutting system to engage. I can move it. I think.

 

For a long time, the door doesn’t budge. Closing my eyes, I press myself against it and pour as much energy as I can into it. Finally, I hear the seal pop, loud to my heightened awareness in the stillness, and I fall forward.

 

Lord Zash’s office is dark. Pulling my sleeve over my hand- I hope to get out of here without leaving any trace that someone came in at all, but if I can’t, there’s no need to leave fingerprints- and turn on the light. In their bright glow, I see that this end of the room is lined with bookshelves full of datapads, scrolls, and books. A comfortable-looking reading chair sits in one corner and a computer desk much like my own in the other. I examine the titles. Many I recognize from the Sith Academy. Some are obvious copies, while others look original, and many are labeled. There seems to be a focus on Sith alchemy and rituals developed by ancient Darths. Which makes sense if she’s so dedicated to this ritual that she’s willing to risk killing a superior in what seems to be a rather obvious way for it.

 

The next section of the room is stranger. It’s covered in what looks like scientific equipment, but I have no idea what it’s for. I’m not sure if it’s unusual, or if my knowledge of science is limiting me. Perhaps any first-year university student could tell what it is. Glass tubes connect bottles and gauges plug into small datapads that probably display readouts.

 

Leaving the equipment, I inspect the last section. This one appears to be the bedroom proper, with a bed, side

table, chair, and a piece of furniture that appears to serve as both a wardrobe and dresser. I don’t want to touch anything, but I can tell that everything is of fine quality, though not overly extravagant. Some Sith I’ve met like to demonstrate their wealth by making their personal spaces resemble something out of a Hutt’s palace. Zash’s is mostly done in plain greys and deep reds and purples, with no jewels or elaborate wall hangings. The only thing that seems out of place is a bottle on the side table. I pick it up with my covered hands and inspect it.

 

It’s a decanter. I’ve served fine wine in dozens like it: made of clear faceted crystal, roundish bottom with a long neck, decorative stopper, and a tiny shot glass next to it. But the liquid inside is clearly not wine. No alcoholic beverage I’ve seen is a sickly reddish liquid that separates out of a viscous, muddy-brown substance. I pull out the stopper and take a tiny sniff. A horrendous smell assaults my nostrils, part medicinal, part decaying flesh.

 

Stoppering it quickly, I set the decanter down, exactly where I picked it up. I’d like to explore more, but the oppressive sense of sneaking around where I shouldn’t is starting to get to me, and I don’t want to spend more time here than I have to. Leaving the room, I slide the door closed with the Force, praying it still works correctly when Zash returns, and climb into bed.

 

 

 

Note (contains spoilers for Sith Inquistor end chapter 1):

 

 

I figured that Zash would need to take a lot of medicine to help stabilize her body and possibly prepare it for transfer to the new one. I also surmised that she would probably make them herself, instead of potentially arousing suspicion by having someone make them for her.

 

[TrueMarksmens]

I just got caught up on this story, and I love it! The way you combined Kiarn's final trials with the Sith Inquisitor story was fantastic. Keep up the good work!

[Mirdthestrill]

Thank you!

 

Part 52: A Mission from Zash

 

 

Lord Zash returns the next morning, just after breakfast. She doesn’t say where she’s been or what exactly she’s found to neutralize Darth Skotia’s cybernetics, nor does she seem to notice that I’ve been in her office. After eating, she beckons me to follow her. I do, and she walks down the stairs to the living room on the first floor, where she sits in one of the armchairs next to the fire.

 

“You can sit down,” she says. I do, taking the chair opposite her. It’s soft and velvety, but I can feel my hair rising from static electricity. “Today is the day you will kill Skotia. Listen carefully.”

 

“Yes, Lord.”

 

Her voice drops. “I was correct: the tablet you found is a powerful religious object to the Trandoshan people. Show it to Skotia’s guards and they should fall into confusion.” I’m about to object that we don’t know how devout these particular Trandoshans are, but then I remember where we found it. Most likely, this was how he was controlling them himself.

 

She continues. “Once you’ve taken care of the guards, use this on Skotia.” She holds up a device that looks suspiciously like a holostylus. “It’s a cybernetic disruptor, made by one of Lord Grathan’s pet scientists. I arranged to sneak him out of Grathan’s compound in return for this prototype. It should disable his cybernetic implants and weaken him enough to defeat him.” I remember reading something about Lord Grathan rebelling recently, sealing himself off in his mansion with a legion of soldiers and a team of kidnapped researchers. I admire his guts, but if he wants to take over the Empire, he’s going about it the wrong way.

 

“After you finish, come meet me at the Nexus Room Cantina. It’s just off the main plaza, to the left of the speeder that services the Citadel. I’ll be at a private party, but tell the bouncer that you’re my apprentice and he should let you in. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Lord. What about surveillance? Are there any cameras in his office I need to disable?”

 

“No. None of the private offices in the Citadel have cameras that are connected to any larger network. Destroy his computer systems and you should be fine.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Good.” She stands up. “Good luck, Apprentice. Skotia’s office is in the Citadel, across the hall from mine and two doors down.”

 

She leaves and I set back in the chair, staring into the artificial fire. I still can’t decide if she truly thinks I can best Skotia, or if she’s trying to get me killed on purpose, or just throwing me at him as a distraction from some larger plan. In any case, the only thing to do is win.

 

I climb the stairs to my room and change into a clean set of my Academy uniform. I wonder when or if she’ll ever give me money for clothes of my own. The sets I brought from Korriban are holding up pretty well, but I’ve already ripped two tunics, and I don’t think they were designed to last forever. Not to mention that they immediately single me out as a new apprentice to anyone who knows the Sith. But they’ll do for something like this.

 

When I exit the bathroom, Khem is staring at me. Despite my total apathy to him, I still feel a little bad. I haven’t enjoyed being confined to the house, and he’s been staying inside for longer than I have. He hasn’t eaten anything while I’ve been around, but he hasn’t mentioned being hungry, either, so I’ve just assumed that he’s alright. I look at him for a moment, then decide. “Come on, Khem. We’re going to kill a Sith Lord.”

 

“Excellent. I will feast,” he says.

 

I take a circuitous route through the city before starting for the Citadel. I don’t think anyone is following me, but better not make it too easy. Not to mention that if other people remember seeing me around the city, they may not think to place me in Skotia’s office. Instead, I wander around the back roads of Kaas City and look at the

shopfronts.

 

Just as I decide to head for the speeder, I feel something tugging at me in the Force and pause. Khem stops behind me. “What is it, little Sith?”

 

“I don’t know…” We’re near the edge of the city, by some of the larger estates, much like the one my parents lived on, though it was far enough out to be surrounded by jungle. Reaching out with the Force, I take inventory of the situation. It’s not very busy right now, and the people who are around don’t seem to be doing anything that would warrant my notice. I’m just about to give up when I feel it again: pain, hot and sharp, a crushing sensation tearing through my chest. It could just be someone beating one of their slaves, it happens often, but I think I

recognize the presence.

 

After a few minutes, the connection lessens, but I can still feel echoes of it. Khem is looking at me with a puzzled expression on his face. “Change of plans,” I say. “We’re going to find out who this is.”

 

“But Lord Zash-“

 

“Can wait.” I’ll either kill Skotia or die fairly quickly, and Zash should be at the party for several more hours.

 

He shrugs and follows me down the alley. I think the sensation is coming from the next street over. As we creep through the shadowed passageway, it grows stronger, until I realize that whatever it’s coming from is just ahead. Someone groans softly.

 

Calling lightning to my fingers, I search the harsh shadows. A figure lays sprawled face-down on the cobblestones. The only sign of life is a slight twitch in the fingers. I approach slowly, wary of a trap. It seems odd that someone would be setting one for me, or that if they were, they would choose here, but I’ll never get anywhere if I’m not cautious.

 

I reach the prone figure, then jerk back. “Karanni!”

 

She’s wearing the same outfit I saw her in last time, leatheris vest and leggings, and still has her lightsaber at her

side, but her skin is a sickly pink and her back moves unevenly with her gasping. I freeze in place, held by morbid curiosity until she notices my presence and lifts her head. Blood runs from her mouth and her expression is unfocused. “Help me,” she whispers before her eyes roll back in her head and her head falls to the pavement.

Scrambling backwards, I dash out of the alley and down the street.

 

 

[bright_ephemera]

I love the fact that Kiarn knows full well Zash might be chewing her up and spitting her out, but is still determined to survive and win.

[Mirdthestrill]

Sorry this one took so long to put up, but I temporarily lost the flash drive I write this story on. It wouldn't have been the end of the world, since most of the stuff is backed up in other places, but this installment gave me fits, and I really didn't want to rewrite it.

 

But in the end, I found it, and here you go.

 

Part 53: Killing Giants

 

 

A few minutes later, I slow down. What should I do? I don’t like Karanni, but seeing her laying there like that was terrible. Even if she probably brought it on herself, knowing her. I wonder what happened. Helping her is weakness,Kiarn, I remind myself. She’s not your friend, she’s your rival, more so than Meiko was, and she doesn’t deserve your help. Besides, there’s nothing you could do. But I still feel like I should help her.

 

Pushing down the guilt, I make my way back toward the Citadel, keeping a close watch out for anyone who might be unduly suspicious. No one seems to be. There’s a taxi waiting, as usual, and Khem and I climb into it. “Sith Sanctum, please.”

 

“At your service, my lord,” says the droid. As the speeder takes off, pressing me back into the seat cushion a bit, I try to shake off what I saw and get ready for what I have to do. Breathe, Kiarn. Just breathe.

We touch down on the landing platform outside the Sanctum and Khem climbs out into the rain. I lean forward and touch the droid lightly on the shoulder, sending lightning arcing through its circuts. Hopefully that will scramble its memories enough to hide me.

 

Entering the building, I try to walk as casually as possible through the hallways. Fortunately, nobody seems to notice me. It seems a little empty here, emptier than its usual tomb-like silence. Perhaps many of the lords are at the party Zash mentioned.

 

Skotia’s office, unlike Zash’s, is labeled with a small nameplate in Basic script. I pause outside the door, breathing slowly and carefully, trying to make myself as small in the Force as I can. There’s no turning back now.

Nothing I can do but keep going. Zash may have my doom in mind, but I will triumph. I look back at Khem. He pulls out his sword and stands, combat ready. Straightening my tunic, I pull out the tablet and press the button to open the door.

 

Darth Skotia sits in a high-backed chair behind his desk, a giant monstrosity that appears to serve no purpose other than intimidation. He’s not a small man, but I doubt even he could reach the edges of it. His pet Trandoshans stand on either side of it. They move to take out their own blades, but the Sith holds up his hand for them to stop. “What makes you so bold as to enter my chambers?” I remain silent, trying to figure out exactly how to win the guards. Do I just show them the tablet? I wish Zash had been more specific. “Speak now, slave, or I will have Skesk cut out your tongue.”

 

“You don’t command them anymore, lord,” I say, keeping my tone perfectly polite as I raise the tablet to eye level. “I do.”

 

The Trandoshans’ eyes grow huge, an oddly human reaction from such alien creatures and they look at each other. “What shall we do, my brother?” says the one on the left.

 

“It has the tablet…” replies the other. I hold my breath, watching Skotia carefully for any signs that’s he’s getting ready to attack. He looks a bit confused, but stands up and reaches for his lightsaber.

 

“Clever,” he says as the Trandoshans bow to me. “Zash must have stayed up many a night to figure that one out.”

 

“Get out of here,” I say to the guards, reaching for my own weapon. “Wait for me outside.” I refuse to throw slaves’

lives around like so many Sith are wont to do. I’ll deal with keeping them quiet later.

 

They run towards the door. Skotia reaches out and releases a stream of lightning towards the three of us.

 

Catching the energy on my lightsaber, I feel dark energy swirl past me on either side, lifting my hair with static.

The Trandoshans aren’t so lucky. The blast hits them full in the back and they fall to the ground with a reptilian screech. Darth Skotia keeps the attack up until they lie still. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he says in a low voice.

 

“I don’t regret it yet.”

 

The Sith advances toward me, vaulting over the desk with surprising agility for such a bulky, heavily cyborged man. He switches on his lightsaber and unleashes another stream of lightning at me.

 

Jumping aside, I try to slip behind him. If I can get out of his way long enough to pull out the cybernetic disruptor Zash gave me…

 

Skotia spins and slashes downward. The tip of the blade catches the hem of my tunic, but manages to miss my skin. Raising my hand, I reach for the power that will let me blast him with energy. The dark side explodes inside me and races out my fingertips like a wave of cold fire. He stops most of it on his lightsaber, but a little makes its way around. Sparks dance up and down his cybernetics.

 

“I would have thought Zash’s apprentice would be more of a threat than this,” Skotia says. “Or perhaps you’re just that weak?” He should learn to stop taunting his opponents, particularly when fighting Sith. At best, they’ll simply ignore the jabs and he’ll distract himself. At worst, they’ll use it to add to their rage, grow more powerful.

I block another blow and the impact jolts my shoulders and knees. He’s strong, stronger than anyone I’ve fought before, and probably at least double my size and weight. If this fight keeps going, sooner or later, my block will

collapse.

 

But no, he’s raising his hand to shoot lightning again. A half plan forms in my mind and I reach into my belt pouch for the cybernetic disruptor, holding my lightsaber up with the other.

 

White-hot electricity shoots from Skotia’s hand again. Most of it races harmlessly up the blades of my lightsaber, but with my attention distracted, some of it makes its way around. My arms sear with energy and I can feel my skin burning.

 

The Sith lord’s ruined lips crack into a smile. “You thought you could challenge me, you-“

 

I activate the device and watch as his good eye widens. His mechanical limbs go slack and he struggles to maintain his balance with only one good leg. Blocking his next slash easily, I reverse the blade and stab it into his gut.

 

The eye goes glassy. “What is this… How did you… Zash?… Zash!... you killed me!”

 

“No,” I can’t resist saying. “I did.” I, Kiarn Skyfall, have defeated my first Darth. The first of many. I raise my

lightsaber for the final blow.

 

“Wait! You, you don’t know what Zash can do!”

 

The red blade pauses centimeters from his throat. “Explain.”

 

“She must have spent years plotting my death. Years!” Blood bubbles from the corners of his mouth. “She’ll… she’ll kill you the same way.”

 

“I know.” I slice off his head in one smooth motion. “She’d be a fool not to.” It’s nearly a requirement of the Sith that master and apprentice try to bring the other down. My time will come, I’m sure, but only when I’ve stopped being useful to her. And I don’t intend to let that happen for a while yet.