A dull thud as his kneeguards hit the floor of his spaceship, his eyes were heavy, it would be the first time he had tried to meditate in days if the act of closing them didn’t carry him off into the deep sleep he had been craving for the same length of time.
He sucked in a deep breath and then let it out, it had been a long time since he came to Viscara and at this pivotal point it seemed to make sense to him to think back. Upon arrival his orders were clear, ‘Establish a network of support then make contact with the Imperial Garrison when you have completed this task and stand ready for further orders.’
The first connections he made upon the planet were with some of the locals about town, settlers and mercenaries, deputies and wanderers. So many faces, names, pure intentions, friendships even, but were any of them truly that? In those days he had maintained a strict cover, by necessity all of his relationships were tinged with a lie, half-truths and words spoken to achieve control and learn what he needed. He learned much of the Outer Rim, the forces at play there, their surface intentions, the political struggles that played out on the wider Galactic scale he had only recently even become aware of. He imagined Gulliver in his minds eye, a strange man to say the least. A deputy that seemed to avoid conflict, a lawman that seemed reluctant to apply the law, but a good man despite it. The assistance he had rendered to the Chiss had been pivotal in the completion of all of his duties, something that he never forgot, a great debt even if the human never knew he was owed it, never knowing what he had helped to set in motion. He thought of Hareb, perhaps his closest friend in the cold, heartless Outer Rim. The man who had taken him in, given him a place to call home, taught him so much and the one who gave him his first training foil, the one who was always dependable and another that he knew in his heart he would do anything for. He thought of Elyd, the Sheriff, a formidable woman if ever he had seen one. That was something he knew before he ever saw her fight, and something he would never forget after. He also thought of her barbarism, the unspeakable things she did to Shriik’s body after she had been slain. Then he thought of her wife, Genevieve, who had seemed like she couldn’t be further from that. He envisioned Triss, sweet Triss, the girl who furnished the room he now meditated in, always happy, always smiling, a beacon of light in the swirling darkness. Then he remembered her dreams of becoming a Mandalorian, and Ali’shari, the one who took her under her wing as a foundling.
He reflected upon all of them, their faces surrounding him as he wondered if any of those relationships ever meant anything at all? Were they real? Could they even be real? He recalled his interactions, the things he said, the questions he was asked and the responses he gave and he could only arrive at the conclusion - Yes. Many of these people were his real friends, he cared about them and he knew in his heart that many of them cared about him, too. The wide array of people he had met in his time since arriving on Viscara, for any flaws they might’ve held, were good people.
His thoughts turned, erasing the gallery of friends and acquittances, turning towards a more pressing front. The Sith. When he first entered their service it was easy, it was like like getting into a speeder after being out of the saddle for a few years, it felt natural to him. His expulsion from the Chiss Expansionary Force had left him depressed, hopeless, devoid of any purpose or direction in life. When he was granted what he seen as a chance at redemption he grasped it whole-heartedly. This mindset had served him well within the Sith, he had impressed his superiors with his ability to carry out intelligence operations as well as his prowess in combat, he had been commanded by Lord Valerius himself, in a promotion of sorts, to outfit himself in the red armour of the Sith Elites, an honour for the Chiss that the Lord may or may not have realised the full extent of at the time. This drove him further, observations of his comrades drove him further too, wishing to learn how to wield a lightsaber in the style the Sith do, wishing to prove himself, his people, worthy in the eyes of the Empire. When he joined the others in practice he seemed to be able to keep up, learning the basics, applying what he already knew about bladed combat to these ancient practices, this apparent success only spurred him on. When it came time for the Sith of the Viscara Academy to travel to Korriban and take part in the Sith Trials there, he naturally wished to go, unsure if he would be accepted due to his status, though eager to prove his worth. Of course, that wasn’t exactly what happened.
He cast his mind back to that fateful day on Korriban. Thinking back, it might not have been the first time he became aware of his connection to the force, though it was a major turning point for him. He entered the ring so sure, the red sand of the planet staining the shoes of his combat suit as he’d waited for his bout. An apprentice of another Sith Lord, a powerful adversary to be sure, though one that the Chiss regarded coldly. He drew his foils, waited for the order to begin and threw himself at the human. Their duel was fierce, well-matched even, though whether it was because the Apprentice wielded a true lightsaber, or because he possessed some mastery of the force that far outstripped his own, it went decidedly in the favour of that Apprentice, Sara lying defeated on the edge of the Arena, the red sands of Korriban kicked up around him, swirling in his mind as the darkness of that foul planet seeped into him. He felt it rise from his back, a burning swell that overtook him, setting every fiber of his being alight as he trembled in rage. He rose, staring the Apprentice down, his smug look of satisfaction at having pleased his master, having shown his strength. The other Sith of the Viscaran Academy praised Sara’s own performance, perhaps, he could not remember truly, in that moment all he knew was his fury, his desire to kill that Apprentice, to tear him limb from limb and make sure he lived until the very end. The rest of the trials were a blur to him, there were many more bouts and few he could even recall vividly, he was too focused on the Apprentice who beat him, his loss, the burning inside him and the need for revenge. Indeed, much happened after that but in his minds-eye the memories all blended into red.
He recalled that long voyage he made into the dune sea of Tatooine after Korriban, spending several days and nights there. At first he raged, wandering weapons-in-hand as he slaughtered all that got in his way. Sand people, animals, jawas, even and perhaps especially a lost droid that had the audacity to speak to him. He saw the sand turn red with blood on that day. The first night he made camp on a ridge overlooking a small group of Sand People hunters, observing their ways, their customs, the way they interacted with each other, how they lived off the seemingly inhospitable land of Tatooine, things which would serve him well as he spent the next few days there. He wandered far beyond the places any of his companions had taken him, feeling something calling to him, driving him onwards, after a time he wasn’t even sure if it was his anger, the rage that had driven him to kill all in his path. He recalled climbing the top of a dune, exhausted, he was suddenly blasted onto his back by a wall of sand that seemed to come out of nowhere, a great sandstorm sweeping over the desert as he tried to continue on through it as best he could. Through the thick storm he could see Sand People, other creatures, though it was as though they were all equally lost as he, wandering helplessly in the dunes. Through the impenetrable hail he made out the outline of something tall, something dark, step after step he made his way towards it. He remembered that tall stone obelisk, rising out of the top of a dune purposefully, pointing towards the stars and seeming to command him with it’s presence, dropping to his knees in front of it, his body going numb as he stared at it for so long, he didn’t even know how long, it could well have been a full day, a night, longer. He recalled the colours of the Tatooine sky change and shift, it’s moons rotating past him as he remained frozen in place. Then, the visions came to him. A dark figure cloaked all in black, holding a red lightsaber in one hand, a purple one in the other, strode through what could only be described as an ocean of blood, ankle deep crimson lifeblood that spread as far as the eye could see in all directions, his footsteps making a soft ‘splosh, splosh, splosh’ as he walked. Then, as soon as the vision had come, it receded from him, he shook himself alert, still kneeling before that obelisk, now broad daylight, Tatooine’s sun bearing down upon him as he felt an unbearable dryness rise in his throat, desperately digging for a black melon as he cooked within his suit.
He breathed out slowly and took in another deep breath, trying to cast the rest of his memories from Tatooine off, the desert planet had many secrets and he was not foolish enough to believe he had even begun to scratch the surface of them. His thoughts retuned to the Sith, the people, his comrades in arms. He thought of his own kind, Ozuth and Fein, who had tried to be resolute companions to him but who he had pushed away out of some misplaced adherence to the ways of the Chiss Ascendancy, a wrong he contemplated whether he could ever right. He thought of Zenica, the stalwart trooper and kind companion to him in some of his most troubling times, perhaps the only one he truly shared a bond with. He thought of Aiven, the man he had hoped would become a close friend, one who seemed to share many of his same passions and interests, one he had talked with at length about topics he considered deeply personal, thought a relationship that had since turned sour. He considered his own words to Aiven, the thoughtless jests and jokes he made he had later discovered to have been wrong, he tried to atone for this wrong, to rebuild the bridges he burned but it never came off. The build-up of tension between them exploded for the rest to witness, an impromptu, ill-conceived fight for the sake of… establishing dominance. Even with that done, the relationship had still not come back to what he might’ve wished it could be, Aiven openly regarded him as a leech, a parasite, someone who did nothing but sow misery and despair in his vicinity. He thought long on those words, the ones that hurt him the most. He thought of Rissa, how he’d tried to break the ice and ended up offending her, how she had been frosty with him and made him feel unwelcome among the Acolytes, then of some of the others times she seemed to show him genuine kindness, respect even. He pondered upon Nrrax, the Trandoshan. He considered how, after Korriban, in his state of deep emotional turmoil, he focused all of his hatred upon Nrrax after what amounted to nothing more than a slap in the face. He took the time to look into that place, where he had went, the things he wanted to do to that Trandoshan animal, the pain and misery he imagined inflicting upon him, the plans he made to see it done. Then he remembered why he changed his mind, the realization that Nrrax was not his enemy, that the hate he felt may have been a focus, it may have made him strong but it made the Sith weaker. He thought of how they moved past it, how much respect he had for Nrrax now, how much aid the dosh has rendered him, how they both cared about her safety.
It seemed appropriate that he let her drift into his meditations now, Apprentice Sinrae, Fatebinder, Kathea. He had hardly regarded her before he requested the opportunity to become an Acolyte and they were thrust together by the hand of Overseer Xo, or perhaps the hand of fate. At first he felt as though there was reluctance on both parts, at this unconventional arrangement, though as the days past, hours shared together, moments shared, he could feel a deeper connection with her forming. It was something they spoke of, reflected on, something he thought was important, that meant something. He had pledged himself to her, to further her goals, her ambitions, to elevate her with his actions, to serve her without question, a pledge that went unaccepted. At the time he did not necessarily feel as though her needed her acceptance to carry out such a duty, for as long as she was his mentor every success he had was her success, every goal he pursued would be one of hers, this comforted him, eased him, made him believe that perhaps this was fate, that the force had brought them together so that he could protect and serve her. She told him of her plans, what she hoped to achieve and why and they resonated with him, somehow, perhaps not personally but even as the most terrible plains were unveiled to him he could do nothing but feel himself agree and accept them as necessary. It was clear that she was dark, twisted, that her young, innocent form belied a great evil within her tormented soul… thought it was something he could relate to, something that attracted him to her, not repulsed him from her. Then, when she abruptly delivered the news that they were to be separated, that she had taught him all she could, that he had done well, his whole world had gone numb.
For hours, he wandered aimlessly, trying to make sense of it, to figure out the true meaning behind it or to discover the lesson that she was trying to teach him. He tried to meditate on it, train, fight and kill but nothing made him feel anything, he was like a void, and he had still not found the answer. He returned to Veles, destroyed, shambling through the town as he was suddenly overtaken by a deep, deep sorrow. He began to cry, sob, for the only thing he could think about was how he had failed her, how his actions must’ve displeased her enough for her to cast him away like a broken toy, the cruel, heartlessness of that after what she had told him, what he had confided in her. Then an old friend appeared to him.
Kairos, the Jedi Initiate, the Chiss’ one-time neighbour. He offered him a shoulder to try on, an ear to listen, advice and counselling. Sara pondered whether he even deserved it from Kairos, a man who he had accosted and accused falsely in the past when gripped by his bouts of paranoia. Though perhaps not deserved, it was given, the Jedi and the Sith shared a long talk about the situation that the Sith found himself in. He offered the advice, ‘I can’t imagine how she feels, but you need to get away from her’. And with those words, something clicked in him. There was no way that he could know how Kathea felt about losing her master, Shriik. It must have been a pain so unbearable, so great, that there was nothing she could’ve done to him that would make him understand how she felt, the need for her to do the things she must do. That was why she did it. To make him feel but a slither of what it feels like to lose a master, even as the Chiss had not truly ‘lost’ anything, it resonated with him, with the pit of unquenchable sorrow inside him.
He recalled approaching Kathea with this revelation, how he brought it up and how he hoped she would just smile at him and confirm it was all just some test, that he had passed, that they would move on to the next one. She didn’t. The reasons she gave were devastating to him, she believed he was trying to poison and manipulate her to some end, a thought that brought his sorrow back upon him tenfold.
He remembered that he then approached his Sith instructor, Oversee Xo, who offered little insight to help guide him but echoed the same message as the Jedi, to get away from Kathea.
He reached out to his fellow Chiss, Ozuth, to seek his counsel once again on these issues and he echoed the notion that he should get away from Kathea.
Then he remembered his visit to Nivoe, the Circle of Viscara. He had explained his whole story to her, begged her for her guidance, for her help. She gave it to him, she told him that all people deserve happiness, no matter what… and that it seemed to her, that if he wanted happiness, it was simple.
He had to get away from Kathea.
Each time he heard these words from someone else it seemed to sting a little bit less, it seemed to sound more and more… possible. As if it was something that he could do. Even as he meditated, ready to cut all ties, his datapad beeped in his breast pocket.
"Do you still wish that conversation you requested the other day?"
He blinked a few times as he regarded the message, the from line, what it would mean for him now that he was all but ready to make a decision. His body trembled, finger shaking as he tapped onto the conversation and bashed out a shaky reply.
"If you have time."
The call was short, bittersweet, it filled with him hope one second and then tore it away again the next. A recurring theme when she was involved in his affairs, he considered. He paced to the cockpit of his ship, leaning against the window and staring out into the void of space as his his mind seemed calmer now, a quiet focus settling into him as he stared out into that wider galaxy he knew so little about.
