Occam’s Razor, bishies!
Also daddy issues. Damn.
May edit minor things.
Part 8: An Arrogant Worm
He walked only part of the way back to Sundari before he ran into an Imperial patrol. “Oi! You there!”
“Lord Murlesson!” At least they recognized him. “You’re alive! Lord Aristheron feared the worst!”
“I’m fine,” Murlesson said. “I just got knocked out for a while. Take me back to Sundari Outpost.”
“Right away, sir!”
At Sundari, Aristheron met him with a deliberately cool nod. “Glad to see you made it.”
Murlesson snorted at him. “I hear you were actually worried about me.” Khem was also pretending that he didn’t care, but Murlesson had felt his sense relax by about half upon seeing him. He wondered, if he looked inside Shuttle 1, if he’d see claw marks.
Aristheron grimaced. “Darth Lachris would not authorize a retrieval mission. If you had not returned this morning, I was going to disobey orders with your Dashade.”
“I don’t like her,” Vany whispered.
<She is proper Sith,> Khem said, and Murlesson glared at him.
“Well, I’m grateful for the thought,” he said. “And Cheketta?”
“Imprisoned, for now,” Aristheron said. “We assault the Arms Factory today. But I assume you will be returning to your own task?”
Murlesson nodded. “Sorry. I’m not sticking around to work with her. And this is important, I assure you.”
“I believe you,” Aristheron said. “A pity, but best wishes.”
“And to you,” Murlesson said. “May victory come swiftly.”
Aristheron smiled slightly. “Thank you-” His comm was going off. “Hello?”
“Aristheron,” said Lord Emment. Murlesson withdrew slightly. Aristheron didn’t need him spying on his conversation.
At least not until Aristheron said “What!?” quite loudly. “I’m preparing to break the rebel stronghold on Balmorra! You yourself ordered me-”
“And now I’m ordering you to deal with Kentalon before he disappears again. Balmorra is a productive planet, but only a small one. The political ramifications of his involvement are much larger.”
“I would ask that you speak with Darth Lachris before ordering me away this instant,” Aristheron said. “Does one day make such a difference?”
As his friend disappeared into Darth Lachris’s elevator, Murlesson made himself comfortable against a nearby wall. Might as well wait and see if they’d be taking a shuttle back together.
“Sheesh, that’s gotta sting,” Vany said, coming over to stand by him. “Just when he was all emotionally invested in the battle here, you know?”
“I suppose,” Murlesson said.
“So how is your thing going?” Vany asked. “What kind of artifact are you going after now?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Murlesson said. “Only that it’s in a relatively inaccessible location, and I’m having some trouble figuring out a way in.”
“If you’re having trouble, it must be really hard to get to,” Vany said. “Any way I can help?”
“Unless you can survive swimming in toxic waste, not particularly,” Murlesson said. “I’d have asked, otherwise.” She gave him a smile that he would think of her.
It was only a few minutes before Aristheron returned, a black cloud hovering over him. “No luck?” Murlesson asked.
“Of all the-” Aristheron broke off before saying anything unfortunate. “It seems we are sharing a shuttle.” Murlesson inclined his head, and they set off together for the shuttles to Sobrik.
“Is Kentalon that dangerous?” Murlesson asked curiously.
“It’s not Kentalon so much as their master,” Aristheron said. “Kentalon is only carrying out their master’s orders – much like I am with mine. You’ve heard of Kel Reu Giri?”
“Not yet,” Murlesson said, resolving to research him once he got back to the holonet.
“He could jeopardize thirty percent of the Empire’s dealings with the Hutts. Not that I personally like that we have dealings with the treacherous creatures, but without that much of their support, the Empire will have serious difficulties.” Translation – they’d lose massive amounts of territory. He didn’t care, but he could see why Aristheron did.
“Well, have fun tracking him down,” Murlesson said, when the shuttle landed again.
Aristheron grimaced. “Thank you. I will see you later.”
Major Bessiker welcomed him back warmly, with the news that his son was now on Balmorra. Murlesson didn’t really care, but pretended he did because social grease, right? He was much more interested in getting back to training his colicoid. It would obey him quite exactly now, but seeing through its senses was much more difficult, just from the biological reason that its eyes were not mammalian.
It was strange – even knowing that Lachris was on the same planet as him, even knowing that she knew where he was and had not forgotten him, he could still concentrate now. Perhaps meeting with the Rurouni had changed something in him, whether it was knowing that she was busy, or just the hope that she would be dead soon. It didn’t really matter what it was. Either way… he made more progress more quickly.
It was another couple days before he felt ready to try heading over to the waste site. In the meantime, he’d been productive. He’d even gone to find that colicoid research data that Bessiker wanted, though he really didn’t see what use it was going to be. And he’d received a message from Rylee reporting that the cult was settling well, though she was concerned that Destris might be letting power go to his head too much. Murlesson replied, trying for a ‘wise mentor’ tone as he reassured her and asked her to let him know if anything changed.
They set up their observation tent a short distance away from the buried waste silo, outside the ring of bare ground stripped of life by proximity to the fumes, and unloaded their groomed colicoid nearly on top of it. Murlesson kept a tight hold of its will in the Force, meditating with his eyes half-closed in the tent. The bug advanced on the hole, and clambered in. It was fortunate he didn’t have to control its motion directly, only its intent. Go to the bottom, he could order, and it would skitter down the broken remnants of the spiral ramp inside the silo. There was a deep pool of bright green chemical waste at the bottom; he didn’t want to know how far down it went.
He looked around with interest through its many-prismed eyes. Image resolution into his brain was difficult, but he could still see and interpret patches of light and shadow; close enough. There was a lot of movement around, and he guessed it was from other colicoids. There was a shadow on the wall that looked suspicious, and he ordered the colicoid to investigate.
It was a tunnel, or at least a crack in the silo wall, about a foot across. It was well above the liquid line, so perhaps there would not be chemicals in Tulak Hord’s secret stash? He sent the colicoid in. It was a little terrifying, watching and feeling it squeeze into such a tiny area, but apparently they were both surprisingly flexible and good at digging. In a few minutes it had wriggled through into a larger space and could stand up again.
He almost lost control of it in surprise. It would have been too dark for his mammal eyes to see, but the colicoid saw perfectly – a large cavern with regular patterns and right angles in it. It had to be a Sith shrine! In the middle was something that looked like an altar, with two pillars on either side of it.
Very carefully, keeping a firm grip on his bug, he directed it to move close, to investigate if the artifact could be easily retrieved. None of the other colicoids were following, he noticed, but he didn’t sense active danger from the altar. Anyway, at least if he lost the bug already, he had a much firmer idea on where he needed to go.
The altar was empty, but he could sense, dimly, channels of power between it and the pillars on either side. He was going to have to get down there in person, channel the Dark Side into the pillars, and wait for the altar to open or something.
He didn’t need the bug anymore, did he? It had been nearly a week in development, but it wasn’t like he could take it home, certainly not that it had been redoused in toxic waste. He let go and came out of his trance.
“What did you see?” asked Major Bessiker eagerly.
“There is a Sith shrine down there,” Murlesson said, finding that his forehead was slightly damp with sweat. “But I still must find a way in myself – it needs to be activated in the Force before it will yield its secrets. The good news is that it is not in the toxic waste. Do you have any gas masks that might withstand these fumes?”
“I will see what we can scrounge up,” Bessiker said. “There’s a certain scientist, Iannos Tyrek, who may be able to adapt what we have.”
“But…?” Murlesson said, sensing one coming.
“But he defected to the rebels a month ago. I believe he’s still on planet. It may be easier to simply requisition something based on samples we collect…”
“But far less expedient, and not as cheap,” Murlesson said, standing up and dusting himself off. “Where is this scientist?”
“A camp in the south end of the Markaran Plains. But it’s too dangerous to go alone-”
“Don’t underestimate me,” Murlesson said. Alone, he could be in and out with no one the wiser. “Khem! Revel!”
“Right with you, boss,” Revel drawled.
<I thirst for the blood of these rebels,> Khem said.
“I’d have thought you’d have enough with our recent encounters,” Murlesson said. “Fine, you can be my distraction. Let’s go.”
“But my lord-!” began Bessiker. “They have a tank!”
“They won’t fire on what they won’t see,” Murlesson said. “I’ll be fine. I might even be back in time to meet your son when he returns from his mission.”
“I hope so,” Bessiker said, brightening up. “Very well, then. I’ll get started on prepping the gas mask.”
It was a long trip out, even by speeder bike, and they left them hidden in some rocks about half an hour away from the rebel camp’s coordinates. The camp itself was nestled in the curve of a cliff, which seemed odd to Murlesson – there was a good chance of being attacked from the rear, wasn’t there? Jetpacks and blasters were a thing, after all. Perhaps there were defences on top of the cliff.
In any case, he wasn’t worried about that. His only concern was how to get past the very alert guard on one side of the camp. If he could distract his attention for a moment, he could probably climb the wall. The tank was currently on the other side of the camp entirely, so nothing to worry about from that.
“All right, here’s the plot,” he said to his two henchmen. “Revel, you’re running from a terrible monster and just want to rest a while. Khem, you’re the terrible monster. I don’t need much, just the gate guard not to be watching when I go over the wall. Try not to get shot, or I’ll leave you behind.”
“Sounds fun,” Revel said, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Didn’t know you were into that sort of shit.”
“It won’t be a problem, will it?” Murlesson asked.
“Not at all. I’ve got a dozen alternate backstories and personalities for just this sort of thing. Here I go!”
Murlesson was slightly startled at how well Revel got into character. He hadn’t thought the pirate any good at acting, but he stumbled off with an anxious, weary gait and a hunted look in his eyes. Murlesson grinned. His distraction was in good hands. “Wait two minutes, then show yourself to lend credence to his story,” he ordered, and slunk off towards the wall, pulling anonymity about him as he went, not waiting for Khem’s growl of assent.
A quick Force-enhanced leap, and he grabbed the top of the wall and pulled himself over flat on his belly. There were tents on the other side, and he was in plain view of the whole camp… until he dropped to the ground again inside the wall. Now to find Iannos Tyrek… and his Sith apprentice robes didn’t exactly blend in here. Even warping minds, he couldn’t just ask for his location face-to-face.
But he didn’t have to ask face-to-face. He found a tent occupied by a single individual, and knocked on the tentpost, keeping his face out of sight of the door. “Iannos Tyrek?” Four syllables wouldn’t give his accent away, would it?
“That’s me,” said an absent-minded voice, and Murlesson nearly cheered. First try lucky!
He ripped a hole in the wall of the tent and burst in before the startled scientist. “I need your help.”
Tyrek stared at him, startled and not a little alarmed, and then understanding and anger crossed his face. “Well, well. I should have known Bessiker wouldn’t let me go without a fight. But sending a Sith seems like a bit of overkill. Are you here to kill me, or are you going to torture me first?”
Murlesson grimaced. He didn’t have a lot of time, and he still had to get Tyrek out. “Don’t tempt me.”
“I risked my life to defect to the Republic,” Tyrek sneered. “You think you can scare me into returning? There are fates worse than death – and being an Imperial scientist is one of them.”
For a moment, Murlesson wavered. Tyrek sounded very grimly sincere. “I know worse than that. And right now, I’ll settle for avoiding death.”
“I won’t go back to that place!” Tyrek was starting to get loud, and Murlesson raised a hand to hush him. Tyrek obeyed, probably not wanting to get zapped or stabbed if he didn’t have to. “You don’t know what it’s like! We’re not expected to be men! We’re machines, slaving day in and day out. No intellectual freedom, no creativity… I’m tired of building killing machines. I want to do some good for the galaxy. I can’t go back there.”
“I’m not building a killing machine,” Murlesson said. “All I need is a gas mask that will let me survive the toxic waste fumes of the pits west of the Balmorran Arms Factory.”
Tyrek’s eyes bugged. “That place? You’re mad!”
“Not entirely, but I’m getting impatient,” Murlesson said. He cocked an ear; blaster shots. Khem must be making a nuisance of himself. “Will you come willingly, or do I have to fill your entire being with pain to get you to cooperate?”
“I know better than to trust the promises of a Sith,” Tyrek began. Murlesson raised his hand, and when Tyrek simply glared at him, gave him an instant and crushing migraine. Tyrek groaned and crumbled to the ground, clutching his head.
“Need any more? Shall I turn it up?” Murlesson said.
“D-damn Sith,” Tyrek grunted. “Augh! I’ll do it! If that’s all you want, I’ll do it!”
“Excellent,” Murlesson said, letting up on the pain. “Come with me.”
The shots were coming from the other end of camp; there wasn’t even a guard at the gate. Sloppy of them, but that made his job slightly easier. They’d just walk out. Revel could extract when he felt like it.
Murlesson and Khem returned to Sobrik with the scientist as soon as they could; Revel caught up with them halfway. Bessiker met them at the entrance to the town, directing them with smiles and waves to a building next to Requisitions, where, Murlesson found, a small laboratory had been set up for the purpose of upgrading his promised gas mask. Tyrek, stony-faced, went in and set to work with Captain Ilun assisting him. Murlesson would have watched him, but Bessiker was gesticulating at him as if he wanted to talk.
“What is it?” Murlesson asked, back in Requisitions.
“First of all, congratulations on finding our scientist. If anyone can do it, it’s him. But there’s a problem, and I need your help.”
“What do you need?” Murlesson asked immediately. Bessiker had been very good to him, his foolishness notwithstanding.
Bessiker looked down. “It’s my son. He’s gone after some… ‘holocron’, he called it.”
“Ancient recording devices,” Murlesson filled in. Now that got his attention, like putting cash in front of a Hutt.
“Yes, well… A few minutes ago, I got what I think was a distress call from him. He’s in trouble!”
That was all? “He’s Sith. He can take care of himself.”
Bessiker’s look darkened, though he still didn’t look very threatening. Was it possible for him to look threatening? “Look, I didn’t want to have to do this, but it sounds like I have no choice. This is my son we’re talking about, and if you don’t save him, I’ll destroy your gas mask myself.”
He had not expected this from the mild, jovial officer, but he should have. There really wasn’t anyone to be trusted in the galaxy. “You don’t understand-”
“No, you don’t understand! Don’t you understand a father’s love for his son?”
Murlesson let his lips peel back in a ferocious, bitter grin. “No. I don’t.”
Bessiker looked slightly shocked. “Oh. Oh. Oh dear.” But he rallied. “Look, I have pull in important circles and my brother is a high-ranking Sith. You’ll listen if you know what’s good for you.”
“Threatening me now, are you?” Murlesson hissed.
Bessiker continued on, almost hysterically. “All this time, you’ve been running around, communing with bugs, we’ve been fighting a war. I’ve been more than happy to help, but not at the expense of my son’s life!”
Murlesson found himself breathing hard, nearly unable to see. He’d never encountered anyone like this, someone who was so obstinate, so infuriating, someone he couldn’t just hurt to coerce him to his will. He turned away and walked to a corner, getting control over himself. What was it Aristheron had said? Something about letting his emotions give him power without letting them control him.
And the really weird thing about Bessiker was, he was fairly gleaming with Light, despite being as Force-sensitive as a brick. His love and concern for his son were overriding any surface anger he was showing. Why would he, when his son hadn’t so much as called him since landing on Balmorra until he was in trouble? No, he really didn’t understand ‘a father’s love’. But he could use it.
Murlesson sighed and dropped his head. “If you’re going to make me feel guilty, I’ll do it.” It might be useful to have Bessiker owe him in the future. And perhaps the son, too, depending how much trouble he was in. And maybe he could snag the holocron in the bargain.
Major Bessiker looked at him rather sadly. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. I like you, I really do. You’re a – a good lad-”
“Save it,” Murlesson said, covering any other emotions he felt with prickliness. “Where is he, before I change my mind?”
“We’ve narrowed the origin of the distress call to an abandoned building near the Republic crater outpost. I’m guessing the Republic’s captured him, which means a lot of fighting to free him. Good luck.”
“Yippee,” Murlesson said, flatly deadpan, and stalked out of Requisitions.
His hearts were still unsteady as he speedered out in the indicated direction, Khem a short way behind him. He didn’t understand why it should hurt so much. It was only some Imperial officer – his esteem was inconsequential to a Sith, and hardly of real value to someone who hated the Empire. So why should it hurt, that Bessiker should love his son enough to threaten him? He wasn’t Bessiker’s son. Why?
His frustration and confusion churned inside him, and he wanted to scream. But he was getting close to the Republic base and it would have not helped him be inconspicuous.
At least, in this state of mind, the Dark Side was well and truly with him. He stormed in, Khem at his side, hardly bothering to disguise himself or be clever. It was reckless, almost suicidal. He didn’t care, nothing mattered right now. If he died, he didn’t care. He didn’t-!
The Republic soldiers fell before him, before Khem, their blood spilling over the rough metal floors. He hardly noticed what was going on around him, fighting like a possessed man down to the cells where he vaguely felt another Sith presence.
He stopped in front of the right cell, looking coldly over the man inside. “So you’re Bessiker’s son. Cozy in here, isn’t it?” He recognized him – Hiran, his name was. A typical, simple-minded Sith at the Academy. He’d been training for several years by the time Murlesson had shown up.
Hiran got to his feet, grinning in satisfaction. “The old man sent you for me, did he? He must have gotten my distress signal. Guess he’s good for something. He kept talking about some Sith he was working with. He didn’t mention you were a filthy alien.”
“He didn’t mention you were an insufferable tool,” Murlesson responded. It seemed Hiran didn’t recognize him. That was to be expected. “Oh wait, I already knew that.”
“Just get me out of here!”
“Why should I?” Murlesson said, pacing in a show of boredom. “Give me one good reason.”
Hiran snarled. “My master’s powerful. I’m sure you’ve heard of him – Lord Esdras. He won’t be happy if I don’t come back alive.”
“Never heard of him.” Which wasn’t quite true, but Lord Esdras was hardly a major player in Sith politics.
“My master sent me here for a holocron the Republic dug up someplace or other.” How very specific. It wasn’t just the bloody holocron that had value, the idiot. Hiran pulled it out of a pocket and waved it at him. “I got the holocron. Now all I have to do is get out of this place.”
Murlesson shrugged. “So what about the holocron?”
“It’s not the holocron itself that’s special, scum,” Hiran said, putting it away again. “The holocron’s a map. It’s supposed to point to a powerful weapon of the Dark Side that’s hidden here on Balmorra. The weapon’s mine if I find it, which I will, now that you’re here to free me.”
“You’re pathetic,” Murlesson said, and went to the door controls. That weapon had better not be the artifact he was after. How to mess with him in the most egregious way possible… “You’re lucky your father’s cute.” Most mammalian species, humans included, didn’t like people suggesting their parents could be sexually attractive. He guessed it was a mechanism to reduce inbreeding.
As expected, Hiran curled his lip in revulsion. “You really are a filthy alien. But looks like you and my old man are two of a kind – both weak.”
“If you got caught by the Republic, what does that make you?” Murlesson muttered.
Hiran pretended not to hear. As the cell door opened, he stretched and walked out. “I’ll be sure to tell him what you did for me. Maybe he’ll reward you.” Because I certainly won’t, the smug tone of his voice said.
In response, Murlesson half-tripped, stumbling into Hiran. “Sorry, might have taken a hit getting your sorry arse out.”
“Get your filthy paws off me,” Hiran growled, grabbing his lightsaber from the head warden’s desk and stomping off.
Murlesson waited until he was gone, then tossed the holocron in the air cheerfully before slipping it into his own pocket. Khem chuckled deep in his throat.
He hadn’t been lying about taking a hit fighting all those soldiers; both he and Khem had two or three blaster burns from grazes or near misses. The longer he sat on his speeder, the more his arm and leg began to burn. Back at Sobrik, he was limping.
Bessiker saw him from outside Requisitions. “The hero of the hour – you’re hurt!”
“How long did it take you to figure that one out?” Murlesson asked, trying to contain the acid.
Bessiker didn’t respond to that, hurrying to him and ushering him in the direction of Medical with a hand on his back. He wanted to shrug it off but he couldn’t find the energy. “Come, come, let’s get you patched up. I heard from my son, I knew you wouldn’t fail me. I’m sorry you were injured!”
“If I died, would you care?” Murlesson said, quiet and tired.
Bessiker stopped and looked at him sadly. “Of course I would care! I thought about what you said. You see, my son is the most important person in the galaxy to me, and I would do anything for him. You… don’t have anyone like that, do you?”
Murlesson shook his head. Unexpectedly, in the middle of Sobrik, Bessiker gave him a hug. “I’m truly sorry. I hope you find someone to be like that for you someday. Or perhaps you become that person for someone.”
“It’s fine,” Murlesson grumbled, trying to back out of the hug uncertainly. Bessiker just hugged him more.
“I do care about you, lad. It’s just I care about my son above anything else.”
“Whatever,” Murlesson said, managing to escape the hug.
Bessiker escorted him the rest of the way to Medical and sat with him as a doctor fussed over his arm and leg. “I was actually hoping he’d come back to base so we could catch up, but he said he was busy. Something about only having coordinates to go on. Do you think he’s okay?”
“He’s fine,” Murlesson said. “At least he was when I last saw him.” He felt a little guilty about the holocron in his pocket now. If Hiran ever did poorly enough that his master would kill him, it would hurt Bessiker, and stealing his holocron might contribute to that.
It couldn’t be helped. Hiran was Sith. He, at least, knew the stakes, even if he was stupid and violent. And if he’d truly been set back by losing the holocron, he would have whined to his father by this point.
“Boys will be boys, eh?” Bessiker said. “You’re probably right. How’s your arm feeling now, hey?”
“It’s fine,” Murlesson said. “But we’ll deal with the toxic waste pit tomorrow.” He’d already wasted so much time on this planet, made so many mistakes. He just wanted to get it over with, but he was… very tired.
“Yes, yes, an excellent idea. The mask won’t be ready until tomorrow, anyway. Sleep well!”
Iannos Tyrek handed him the gas mask the next morning. “It will work.”
“That’s all I need,” Murlesson said.
Tyrek glared at him. “Do you know what ‘freedom’ is?”
For just a moment, Murlesson hesitated, the word punching a hole in his uncaring facade. He really didn’t care what happened to Tyrek personally, but… he’d been fighting for his freedom all his life. He’d just deprived someone else of their freedom in order to facilitate his own.
And it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Tyrek was just trying to manipulate him. “I’m going now.”
“Good riddance to you, Sith,” Tyrek snarled. “Hope whatever you’re after is worth it.”
Murlesson shrugged as he left. Tyrek would only keep trying to escape. Maybe he would help him a little, maybe he wouldn’t.
He traveled to the excavation site with his followers and Captain Ilun, who had brought a team with a heavy construction drill. When the captain had protested that opening a new hole in the landscape would just provide more outlet for the fumes, Murlesson noted dryly that the original hole in the waste silo was still unsealed, to which the captain had acquiesced. But Murlesson, with his gas mask, was still going to be the one operating it. In a hazmat suit.
It was a long and tedious process, and the suit was not comfortable, but after an hour, the shaft was dug, and he was aware that poisoned air was flowing upwards around him. He moved the drill away so the Imperials could deal with it, took a securely fastened cable, and began to descend. As he entered the cavern he’d seen only through compound eyes previously, he felt a thrill. No one had been in here, could have been in here, for millennia – probably not since Tulak Hord left his artifact here. If they’d known about it, they wouldn’t have built a toxic waste facility on it. It was considerably plainer than he’d expected, hardly any decorative or narrative carving at all.
He dropped lightly to the floor and heard chittering behind him. Oh good, his pet had come to greet him. Or attack him, from the sense of danger rising from it.
He ducked a slash from serrated claws and reached out to hold it in place. “Go on, get out of here. Go back to your kind.” His voice was muffled by the gas mask, but his will was not, and it turned and slunk back to the tunnel to the toxic waste silo. He was no expert on colicoids, but it didn’t look or feel healthy. He wondered why.
It wasn’t important why. It had served its purpose and all that mattered now was the altar. It was unchanged, even though the fumes were supposedly as corrosive over time as the waste itself. That was a good sign. He touched it; even though his skin didn’t make contact with the stone, he could still feel, stronger than ever, the channels of Darkness where power had once flowed.
He had plenty of that, and snarled wordlessly, letting black venom boil out of him and into the pillars. And there – yes, the altar was opening, revealing a holocron. He seized it and made his way swiftly back up the cable. It wouldn’t do for it to be damaged in any way.
He exited the shaft and made his way quickly to the changing point, gladly stripping off the hazmat suit and gas mask, then over to the observation site.
“Did you get the thing?” Revel asked.
Murlesson nodded, though he didn’t indicate where he’d stashed it. “Safe and sound. We can finally leave this place.” And get as far away from Lachris as possible. It was good she was probably stuck here for a while, being governor. He knew where she was for now.
“You should check in to medical before you go,” Captain Ilun said. “Better safe than sorry.”
“All right.”
Medical only detained him for an hour, and provided him with a copy of the results, which were that they couldn’t guarantee that there wouldn’t be long-term consequences to his mild exposure to toxic waste, but he wasn’t likely to keel over and die from it in the next thirty or so years. Good enough. With that, he made his way to the spaceport, where he was met by Major Bessiker and Captain Ilun.
“Well, Apprentice Murlesson!” Bessiker said. “Leaving us for good, eh? Got what you came for?”
“Yes,” Murlesson said, still feeling awkward about how emotional things had become the previous day.
Bessiker seemed quite cheerful still. “The Sith are the heart of the Empire, I always say.” And Murlesson vaguely recalled him having said it before, probably about his son. “Anyway, we wanted to see you off – give you a good pat on the back and a little parting gift.”
“Thank you,” Murlesson said, receiving the little parcel from Captain Ilun and opening it right away. It was a brand new medical kit, one of the fancy ones with a generous supply of stims and suppressants. “Y-you shouldn’t have.”
“I’ll miss you, lad,” Bessiker said, and before Murlesson could stop him, gave him another hug. “Safe travels. It was a pleasure working for you – and thanks again for saving my son.”
Murlesson awkwardly tried to sort of return the hug, then suddenly gave up and slumped against Bessiker. “You deserve better from him. You’ve been very good to me for no apparent reason.” He was beginning to partially understand – Bessiker didn’t mean to betray him. It didn’t mean he wasn’t still hurt, for whatever reason. But Hiran’s behaviour towards his own father made him angry, too. Even though it was quite normal for a Sith.
He didn’t actually understand any of it and it made him frustrated.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. He just needs some space for a while.” Bessiker patted him on the back and put him back upright. “You take care, all right?”
“You too,” Murlesson mumbled, and turned away, towards the Viper.
He was distant when he called Zash, but she didn’t seem to notice. “Ah, you have the next artifact? Wonderful! I hope Major Bessiker was a good help.”
“He was,” Murlesson said.
“I’m heading to Tatooine right now, searching for the fourth. It appears the fifth is on Alderaan. I’ll send you the file on what I know, but right now I must really get back to work. Ta!”
He shut off the holocomm and directed Revel to set a course for Alderaan. That taken care of, he trudged tiredly into his room, setting the med kit in a drawer in his desk and the holocron in a little hidey-hole he’d made by the refresher, behind a loose wall panel. Took his boots off, changed out of his dirty robes into clean ones, and crawled into the nest of pillows he’d made on the floor in lieu of a proper bed. He’d tried the bed that was built into the wall, back when he was first given the Viper, but it felt strange and artificial to him, so he’d dragged the mattress and blankets and pillows off it, putting the bed frame back into the wall, and arranged everything in a pile on the floor in a way that would make the rigidly neat and tidy Empire throw up its hands in shock. But he was more comfortable there than before, and unheard magnitudes more comfortable than when he’d been a slave.
He curled up in a little ball, tired, depressed, unhappy for no particular reason. The Dark Side gave him strength, but he wasn’t using his strength right now. He didn’t know why he felt this way. When he’d been a slave, an acolyte, he didn’t have time or energy to focus on his feelings like this.
It didn’t matter, anyway. He would have more research to do tomorrow, more things to plan. If he was going to survive, to outwit Zash, he was going to have to find out what these artifacts did before all of them were found. And where to go afterwards, probably back to his cult. He could live reasonably comfortably building up a mercantile company, enough that he could eventually go out to find Sith artifacts on his own – and use them to bring down the Empire.
Wouldn’t that be nice… then he wouldn’t have to worry about them again…
He yawned and slept.
“Flesh of my flesh,” said a hollow voice, and he snapped awake. That phrasing meant… “Listen to me.”
He sat up, sleepy and sullen, as the ghost of Lord Kallig entered his room through the closed door. “I cannot linger long. It takes too much out of me to appear here. But I must warn you. Your master, Darth Zash, is plotting something. Whatever it is can mean nothing good for you.”
“No frakking shit,” Murlesson rejoined. “Any specifics, or did you wake me up just to exposit the obvious?”
“Do not become arrogant,” Kallig scolded him. “I have seen Zash making her preparations. She’s taken two new apprentices, a boy named Kaal and a girl named Corrin. She’s been sending them into the Dark Temple – presumably to confirm that I am gone.”
“They’re not useless, then,” Murlesson said. The Temple wasn’t exactly safe, even without Kallig on a rampage.
“I assume they are meant to replace you. I considered killing them, but I heard them speak of Zash and her desire that my chamber be secure for her work.”
“Why your chamber in particular?” Murlesson asked.
Kallig shook his head. “I do not know. Perhaps because it is less obvious than the others, because she is less likely to be disturbed in there. But soon enough, Zash herself appeared. She came every day until yesterday, studying the place and performing rituals. You are in danger.”
“What sort of rituals?” Murlesson asked, frowning.
“Minor ones. Preparations for something bigger.”
“To do with those artifacts,” Murlesson said to himself. “I wish I knew…” He sighed. “Wishing won’t make it so. Do you have any actual help for me?”
“I have a gift to aid you, or I would, had it not been stolen at my death. An enterprising Sith Lord on Korriban, Khreusis, has uncovered my old mask and my lightsaber. That mask was very useful to me – it amplified my will, while making me resistant to will-altering Force techniques. It will protect you against Zash’s onslaught. My lightsaber… should be in your hands.”
“The mask sounds fantastic. The lightsaber… it’s just a lightsaber. I’ll grab it if I see it.”
“You must take it!” Kallig stepped furiously towards him, clenching a fist before him. “You are my heir! The heir of Kallig! That lightsaber is a symbol of our power!”
Murlesson snarled, standing up. “But I am not you! And I will not be used by you! I’m not here to restore your lost power or glory or whatever! I don’t care about it!”
“Your power comes from being of Kallig!”
“How do you know!?” Murlesson screamed at him. “I don’t belong to anybody! My power is mine! My path is mine! Your relation is just a trick of fate! If it even exists!” He stopped and stared, breathing hard. What was wrong with him? One of the few people in the galaxy even remotely willing to help him…
“Boy…” Kallig’s voice was dark.
Murlesson turned away, swallowing whatever chaotic feelings he had left. “I’ll get the lightsaber.”
Kallig regarded him silently for a second. “The Sith Lord’s compound overlooks the tombs. Go. Claim the mask and the lightsaber. Guard yourself.”
“Thank you,” Murlesson said. “I trust you will let me know if anything else develops.”
“I cannot guarantee when I will be able to speak with you again,” Kallig said. “As I said, it is difficult for me to visit you. But I will continue to watch over my chamber in the temple, conserving my energy for when I learn something more.” The icy blue spectre faded away before his eyes.
Was his ancestor the sort of person for him that Bessiker was for his son? Someone who would do anything for him? No, his ancestor was Sith. He wouldn’t do anything so foolish, even if he was dead.
He got up. The floor was cold on his bare feet. Was Revel still awake? It didn’t really matter, he was the boss. “Revel, I have a course change to make.”