Okay so Tatooine is the most boring planet for Sith Inquisitor; all you do is meet Andronikos. I already covered that, so there’s nothing of importance left. Alderaan is slightly more interesting, I guess; it’s going to leave Murlesson pretty jaded on the topic of romance if nothing else. So… Aristheron gets more screentime! (I promise this is not actually another Sith Warrior story)
I just really want to get to the Zash showdown asap, is that so bad anyway? D:
Part 9: A Compendium of Jedi
The detour to Korriban was going to take a lot longer than just going straight to Alderaan. He was half-tempted to search for the artifact on Alderaan first and return to Dromund Kaas by way of Korriban, but by then the situation might have changed. He just needed to get back to Alderaan before Zash reached Tatooine, or else she would be suspicious. Which meant that his infiltration had to go flawlessly. And then there was Khem’s request that he might as well take care of at the same time…
By the time he reached Korriban, he had everything he needed planned out. Between his ability to turn minds away from him, and the disguise he’d be acquiring, no one would even know he was there until they noticed the mask missing.
He had Revel drop him off under cover of darkness near the compound, then hiked the rest of the way as the sun slowly rose over the barren desert. He hadn’t missed this place, not in the slightest. At the top of the cliff, he fired his home-made grappling hook. Doors were for people who wanted to make an entrance.
Inside, he made his way straight to the slave quarters. It was deserted, everyone there already about their work. It was smaller than Netokos’s had been, but he still found the laundry and grabbed a slave uniform, putting it on over the light tunic and pants he’d worn for getting in. To make his disguise complete, he could have called Aristheron and asked if Vany’s old slave collar was kicking around, but that would have taken too much time. He wasn’t even sure where Aristheron was in the galaxy.
Moving about after that was quite simple. Pickpocketing access cards, Force-suggesting guards out of his way, he made his way ever deeper into Lord Khreusis’s sanctum. He had to be quick – he wasn’t being the most careful, someone would notice their access card missing sooner or later. But he knew where he was going. It was most unfortunate some construction contractor had messaged the plans of the building to their colleague on the holonet… and even more unfortunate that Rylee had been able to hack into their private messages. If the mask wasn’t on Khreusis’s person, it was in his trophy room next to his private chambers. If he did have it with him, he’d have to improvise something. He probably couldn’t pickpocket it off a Sith Lord, no matter how invisible he made himself in the Force. Definitely not off his face.
He swiped the final access card and slipped into the trophy room, the guards outside staring completely blankly at the wall across from him. He made the cameras inside glitch with static, then shoved convenient artifacts in front of them. Security would notice that pretty quickly, but all he wanted was not to be seen. After all, he had no business in the galaxy to be here. No one would believe he’d come here on the word of a ghost, to recover an heirloom from a long-buried line. And maybe causing a little ruckus that couldn’t be traced back to him would be amusing.
He’d found the lightsaber and had just established that the mask was not among the artifacts stored in that room when he heard the door slide open again. He spun, ready to mind-control whoever came in – it was Khreusis. With the mask on. Well, that was quite reasonable. If he had any idea what it could do, he’d never take it off.
“I thought I sensed someone… quite weak, aren’t you? And here I thought the Sith were above petty burglary. I wonder what your master would think if she knew you were breaking and entering. Or did she, by chance, send you on this little errand?”
“I’m taking full credit for this one,” Murlesson said brazenly. Khreusis wasn’t strong enough to make him freeze up. He could probably take him on. He hadn’t wanted to, dead bodies left a data trail, but he’d find some way to recover.
Khreusis harrumphed. “So I thought. Your master and I hardly see eye to eye, but this isn’t her style. Too much risk of getting caught. Too little reward. It has all the marks of an apprentice.” He shook a finger at Murlesson. “When Darth Thanaton learns of this, you will be punished.”
Murlesson drew himself up and pointed at Khreusis. “That mask is mine by right of inheritance.”
Khreusis laughed, then snarled. “A Zabrak criminal, inherit a Sith Lord’s mask? The only thing you’ll inherit is a slave collar.”
That definitely didn’t set off any triggers in him at all. Khreusis barely had time to draw his lightsaber before Murlesson was upon him, throwing Darkness before him in a disorienting cloud, his ancestor’s lightsaber crackling in his hand. Khreusis seemed unfazed – of course, the mask was protecting him at the moment. He’d have to find some other way to defeat him. Probably by stabbing him multiple times. That sounded good.
If he could. Khreusis was quite good at dueling, he was discovering quickly. He hadn’t been able to properly spar in a while, with Aristheron being so busy. But what he still lacked in finesse, he could make up for in raw, traumatized rage.
And raw, traumatized rage wasn’t going to cut it. Khreusis wasn’t strong enough to paralyze him, but he was no push-over either, driving him back through the room and towards a corner. Murlesson ducked and dodged, lightsaber spinning, the Dark Side trying desperately to keep him alive and uninjured. Khreusis chuckled, low in his throat, and disarmed him, sending the double-bladed saber twirling away across the room, where it struck the wall and shut off. “You disappointed me, boy. I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” He raised his own saber.
Murlesson snarled with another useless wave of Force… and pulled, yanking a small, ornate blaster to him. Even as Khreusis began to react, Murlesson fired, once, twice, three times, aiming low.
Khreusis grunted and toppled, his breathing ragged and pained. His lightsaber fell from his limp hand. “Boy-!”
Murlesson scrambled to his feet and shot him in the chest.
He had to take a moment to collect himself, panting harshly. It was done. He considered the blaster. It was very nice, heavy for its size. Would it get back to him if he just took it? He could do with a good hidden emergency ranged weapon. He shoved it in his pocket impulsively.
He retrieved Kallig’s lightsaber, hefting it. It was a little heavier than the one Zash had given him, and far more fine. Jet black with red and gold trim, sleek but practical, it showed no sign of age.
As an experiment, he had to say being fast and sloppy was a lot more stressful and not nearly as satisfying as planning things out to the least detail. If only he’d had more time…
Now for his real objective. He fumbled for the catch on the back of the mask – it was really more like a tight helmet – not even looking at Khreusis’s face. He frowned at the inside of it. Firstly, would his horns fit in it? By chance, had his ancestor had similar placement to his? Oh, the interior had adjustable slots. How convenient. Khreusis had been human, he didn’t need them. Once he put it on, no one would be able to see that he had horns – would be able to tell he was Zabrak at all, if he wore gloves and a scarf.
Secondly, someone else had been wearing it, and that was gross. Hygiene was an odd subject for him, seeing that he’d grown up in filth, then had cleanliness imposed upon him by his former master and then society, while still being expected to deal with filth. If left to his own devices… he’d probably not bother overly much to keep himself clean, but at least it would be his own dirt he was living in, not someone else’s. Well, he’d dealt with worse than a used mask, and he didn’t really have a choice right now. He wiped it with a sleeve and put it on, and walked out of the compound to rendezvous with Khem at the Viper.
Khem led him to a cave a quarter of the way around the planet. “And your former… rival is definitely here?”
<The signal was genuine,> Khem growled. <He is here.>
Murlesson shrugged and headed into the cave. There were several presences in there – two Sith, and… another. It felt almost exactly the same as Khem, so much so that he kept reaching out to the Dashade behind him to reassure himself that his servant was still there.
They rounded a corner and came upon a small camp, where they were clearly expected. Another Dashade, supposedly named Veshikk Urk, stood on the edge of the lamplight, flanked by two human Sith. <Ah, Khem, my proud friend. How long I have waited!> It was a little more bluish than Khem, its eyes darker as they flicked over Murlesson. <I see you have found yourself a pet. It smells weak, but I suppose there is some potential there.>
Murlesson snorted. The Dashade couldn’t sense him clearly when he cloaked his strength, obviously, and was relying on its judgement of his scrawny physical body. His mistake. “Pet! Not likely.”
Veshikk Urk laughed harshly. <A slave once more, Khem? It must have been a long fall from glory.>
“More importantly, how are you still alive?” Murlesson asked, folding his arms. He could feel Khem bristling behind him, getting near a snapping point.
<Another defiant Sith with delusions of grandeur. But you always were soft, weren’t you, Khem Val? Always favoured, always the best. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you even loved that Sith animal you called a master. And here you are, like to do it again.>
<Enough!> Khem erupted with a guttural growl. <I was not weak. You were weak! A slave to that monster, Ortan Cela.>
“I don’t like people insulting Khem,” Murlesson put in idly with dark intent behind his words. And he was a little surprised to find that he meant it. Khem had told him in no uncertain terms that as soon as his mental strength outmatched Murlesson’s, he would kill him and take back his freedom. But… the more history he managed to drag out of him, the more interesting he found him. He couldn’t say if Khem’s opinion of him was changing. It probably wasn’t, and it was probably weak of him to care even a little about his monstrous servant. But… Veshikk Urk better watch himself, was all he was saying.
Veshikk Urk bared his teeth. <What do you intend to do about it, little Sith? I am no slave, not like Khem. These Sith serve me. Ortan Cela was cruel, it’s true. Petty and insignificant. That was the only reason your pitiful master trusted him, and that was his mistake.>
Khem charged with an angry roar, and Murlesson was beside him.
They dropped out of hyperspace near Alderaan in time to receive a call from Darth Zash.
“Apprentice!” she gushed as soon as she saw him. “I know you are very busy, but I must speak with you. I have just had the most amazing dream, and it concerns you.”
More dreams. More importantly, he could confirm a few things. “Don’t you have other apprentices to talk to?”
She froze for a guilty half-second, probably wondering how he found out, or if that changed whatever schemes she had, before giving him a wide, apologetic smile. “Apprentice, I’m sorryyy. The Dark Council required that I take more apprentices as a sort of… punishment, for my suspected involvement in Skotia’s death. I should have told you myself, but believe me, these others are nothing compared to you.”
He huffed. “As long as I have seniority.” He couldn’t tip her off to his suspicions. Just being a little jealous for attention, like an older sibling long accustomed to being an only child.
“You are irreplaceable, apprentice. But!” She was determined not to be sidetracked away from her silly dreams. “As I said, I just had the most marvellous dream, much like the one in which you pacified the apparition in the Dark Temple. In the dream, I could see the power of the Force coursing through you. Armies of Jedi rose in your path and fell before you. It’s the artifact! It must be! The artifact will give you the power.”
He really wondered if she made them up, sometimes. “Really?”
“Only certain individuals, it seems, are properly attuned to the ritual the artifacts describe. They are the key to fulfilling your destiny. Hence why we must hurry and collect the last ones. Where are you, by the by?”
“I just arrived on Alderaan,” he said. “Sorry, I took a detour to check on my cult.”
She had looked disappointed for a moment, but nodded anyway. “I understand. How are they?”
“I’m going to need to find more space for them soon,” he said. Rylee’s daily updates were very helpful. “They missed me.”
“You keep in close contact even when away, yes?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Sometime I will let you stay for a longer period of time with them, to mould them as you will. But not yet.”
“I know. The artifacts.”
“Yes. Now about Alderaan… It really is a wonderful world. So rich in history! It’s a shame you probably won’t have time to visit the libraries.”
“That’s too bad,” Murlesson said. “I’d like to.”
“I won’t dissuade you, but again… Alderaan is a planet in the throes of civil strife. A usurper sits on the throne and all of Alderaan’s nobles make war.” Sounded chaotic. Sounded great for him. “Your artifact was discovered by the Jedi Order years ago and given to one of Alderaan’s noble houses. I don’t know which one.”
“I guess I’d better start asking, then.”
“House Thul is allied with the Empire. Their young leader, Elana Thul, is eager to help you. Go speak with her first. Hopefully, she will aid you in reclaiming the missing artifact. Have fun!”
He bowed as Zash hung up, then went to check his private messages before he departed… and frowned. There was a new one from Rylee, subject line “Worried about Destris”. He tapped it open.
Destris is getting worse, my lord. His dedication to your cult has become fanatical and destructive. It’s heartbreaking to watch. He’s actually starting forcing people to join the cult now. Yesterday a recruitment talk devolved into violence, with a Quarren. It happened again today, too, even worse than yesterday. It was awful, and the poor Shistavanen is in no shape to begin actively serving your will. His actions are perverting everything we try to do. This isn’t what you taught us when you first approached us. I’ll have to talk to him, try to reason with him. I know he won’t want to hear what I have to say, so I’m a bit scared. Still, I’ve known him for a long time. He may be in a bad place, but I’m certain I can bring him back. -Rylee Dray
Murlesson snarled quietly. That thick-headed, short-sighted idiot. He should have known he was going to go on a power trip, from what Rylee had been saying recently. Maybe she could talk him down from his ego-fueled path… but Destris needed more than gently firm words.
He shoved away from the holonet terminal and stormed to the holocomm, putting in the frequency for the cult. Was he the leader of this cult, or wasn’t he? When Rylee answered, she looked scared. “M-master…”
“Put Destris on,” he said softly. “Where is he?”
“He’s out recruiting again… He sent me to answer the comm when it went off… M-master, please, let me deal with him, I’ll make him see…”
“Rylee.”
“Y-yes! But please, master, don’t be too harsh with him! He only wants to serve you…”
“Rylee.”
“G-going!”
When Destris appeared on the holo, he looked a little scared… but also defiant. “Master.”
Murlesson simply stared at him, letting his dark aura seethe a bit. Destris began to sweat a little. “Explain.”
Destris grinned nervously. “Explain what?”
Murlesson slammed his hands against the comm unit, and Destris jumped. So did Rylee, in the background. “Explain why my recruits are joining with injuries!”
“Oh, is that all?” Destris laughed a little, still nervous. “I did what I had to, master. They don’t realize that serving you benefits us all, especially them. So I had to. For their own good.”
“Fool,” Murlesson hissed, low and cutting. “Idiotic, short-sighted fool. I’m disappointed in you. Where do I begin?” He sighed, affecting the gathering of patience. Which he was, in part. Destris’s defensive belligerence was trying. “Let me put it to you in small words so you will understand. When you play too roughly with your toys, they break, and you don’t get new ones.”
Destris started, looking a little shocked. “Master, I don’t think of them as- Is that how you think of us?” He looked hurt.
He deserved it. “No, Destris, but it sounds like you do. You think you can get results through fear and pain? Who do you think you are?”
“I thought… I…”
“You didn’t think,” Murlesson bit out. “You just wanted them to bow down to you. Like Paladius made you do. Is Paladius the sort of person you want wearing our bracelets? Making the Chraemmeft Scukri with us?”
“No, master!”
“Do you think you know better than me? Are you the leader now?” He lifted a hand in vague threat. Destris used fear like a sledgehammer. The subtlety of a feather – a feather that could kill you – was far more effective. And he could feel Destris’s life through the holoprojection. If he really wanted to kill him… he could do it.
Destris felt it, or at least imagined he did, turning pale and shaking. “N-no, master!”
“Then you will listen to me, or I will exile you and make Rylee the sole administrator!”
Both Rylee and Destris flinched. “Rylee?” Destris exclaimed. “She can’t- she doesn’t want to do that!” Rylee nodded in agreement.
He knew that. She couldn’t handle the entire cult by herself. She had the smarts and had rapidly gained the organizational skills, but she didn’t have the presence and leadership to do so. Still, he had to make him think he was serious. “Better her than you, if you don’t fix your behaviour.”
“But I just want-”
“I?” Murlesson inquired idly.
“You need more recruits, master, and they’re better off for it, too! It’s like you said-”
“I think I said something about self-determination, too. Those who want to work, work the hardest. Are the most useful to me. Will be rewarded for their diligence. Those who do not want to work with us… may harbour thoughts of resentment, which can breed treachery. Someday, Destris, the wisdom of joining the ranks of those who serve me will be self-evident to all. Until then, if they reject your telling of my message, that is your problem with communicating, not a problem of strength. I am strong. You make me look weak.”
Destris bowed, finally properly submitting. “Yes, master. I will do my best. Thank you, master.”
Murlesson finally let his expression soften. “I look forward to seeing how things progress from here. Carry on, both of you.”
Rylee was going to have to do some damage control with both the Quarren and the Shistavanen, not to mention any other recently coerced recruits. He’d send her more specific instructions later. And he would have to visit soon, to reassure any doubters that he was the real deal they’d been promised. Maybe squash a few gangs in their area, make them feel safer. He was their monster, after all.
Lady Elana Thul was not the most interesting person he’d ever talked to, but she pointed him in the right direction – to a library. Armed with the knowledge he found there, he just had to infiltrate a stronghold of assassins, who were reputed to have many among them resistant to Force techniques.
Not a problem. He pulled a time-honoured trick for that one, smuggling himself inside via a false-bottomed storage crate with Revel as delivery boy.
Lady Rehanna Rist was not pleased to find him sitting on the bar in her private quarters shortly after. “Congratulations, Sith. You’ve broken into my home, butchered my assassins, and forced your way into my personal chambers.”
He shrugged. “The body count could have been much higher. Fortunately for your people, I was feeling lazy.” He’d only killed the two outside her door.
She snorted and began to stride over to the bar. She truly didn’t feel afraid of him, which was fine. He wasn’t there to make threats. “Can I at least offer you a drink before you start making demands?”
Did she really think he’d accept a drink from the head of a house of assassins? He trusted her invitation as little he’d trusted Paladius’s. “Let’s skip the drink and you can tell me about this holo.” He flicked on a hand-held projector with a little flourish, displaying a still image of a young Nomar Organa with a young Rehanna Rist, both in formal clothes, arm in arm, smiling.
“Well, well,” Lady Rist said, gazing at it haughtily. “You dug that old thing out of some dusty archive in House Alde, I’m sure. I had thought it finally died ten years ago.” She sniffed. “Let’s just say that his royal Jedi-ness Nomar Organa and I are ancient history, and leave that dead dog buried.”
Murlesson slipped off the bar, his hands in his pockets, but his eyes bored into her with focused intent. “Let’s not do that.”
Lady Rist made an exasperated gesture. “I don’t know what you expect me to say.” She poured herself a drink, sipped it, grimaced at the memories. “Nomar and I were in love. I’m sure he’d write it off as misguided youthfulness… but it’s true. We were going to get married, in spite of our families’ disapproval, and then he got cold feet. That’s all.”
He tilted his head in curiosity. “Why have you never married?”
She snorted again. “You think I’m pining for Nomar Organa, is that it?”
“Isn’t that the reason?” he rejoined.
She didn’t deny it. “What does it matter if I do or not? He certainly doesn’t care one whit about me.”
“I wonder,” Murlesson said. “Call. Ask him to meet you, and if he agrees…”
“And if he agrees…” Her mind was difficult to influence, and he had to be subtle about it, but she was walking right down the road he was laying out for her. “No! I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this ludicrous notion.” She sighed. “Still. It would be nice to see him again. But what would I say? What would I do?”
He gave her an artfully soft smile. “You’ll know what to say.” This was straight out of Lightning Strikes My Heart. Tell them what they want to hear, Revel’s words rose in his mind.
Lady Rist huffed. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll call him, and ask him to meet me here. But I’m going with you – for my own safety. I don’t quite trust you.”
That one confused him a little. She didn’t trust…him, to not have lied that Nomar would be willing to meet with her, so she was bringing him to protect her? …What? He must have interpreted it wrong. House Rist, despite their dark reputation, was not allied strongly enough with the Empire that a Jedi would necessarily consider them enemies.
It wasn’t important. Time to feed her another sappy line. “I’m only worried about your happiness.”
“I’ll call him,” she said again, and turned away to a holocomm unit in the wall.
It took several minutes before there was an answer, several minutes of rather awkward dead silence. He could sense her trepidation, her pounding heart – was it healthy for a fifty-year-old woman to be so excited? Eh, it was probably fine.
At last, the holocomm blinked on, and a handsome bearded man appeared on it, clearly looking at a wrist-mounted comm. “Rehanna, what… what a surprise.”
“I know it must be,” Lady Rist said, her voice wavering. “Nomar… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
The Jedi smiled. “Go ahead. Anything I can do. Anything at all.”
What a Jedi thing to say. He surely didn’t mean it, even if he thought he did.
Lady Rist hesitated, embarrassed. “Not… not like this. It’s a favour I need, here on Alderaan. I was hoping we could meet.”
The Jedi nodded again, still smiling. “Of course. I can be there in a few hours. The old place?”
“Yes, the old place,” said Lady Rist, her voice full of memories. “Thank you.”
The Jedi bowed, and the comm unit went dead.
“Do you really think he’ll come?” Lady Rist asked, apparently not noticing that he didn’t actually know either of them and was much more poorly equipped to judge Nomar Organa’s actions than she was.
Then again, Jedi were predictable. “I’m sure he will.”
She was all aflutter. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
He smiled reassuringly. “It will turn out all right.”
She actually looked at him properly for once, right through his ‘I’m an unimportant part of the background’ aura. “How would you know? You’re only a boy. You haven’t the life experience to know.”
“True,” he said. There was no point in denying it. “To me it is incredible that your feelings remain after twenty years. On the other hand… some feelings never fade, do they?” He couldn’t imagine ever being able to let go of his hatred for all Sith. This was just… the exact opposite. Or something.
“No, perhaps you do understand, even if you haven’t lived it,” she murmured. “Nomar will always have my affection, no matter what happens. Even if he left me all those years ago… he’s still the most wonderful man in the galaxy. His fundamental being, what I fell in love with, hasn’t changed.” She glanced at him slyly. “A young man like you, you’ll not want for admirers should you want them, even if you are an alien. Perhaps you’ll find someone among them for whom you feel the same.”
Not likely. He saw women and noticed that they were women, but letting that fact penetrate his consciousness any further than that would be a giant, useless distraction. He gave her an artificially cheerful smile. “Perhaps.”
Nomar Organa had rushed to get to Alderaan, apparently, as he was waiting at the meeting place, pacing as if worried, though his Force sense was difficult to read; confusion and anxiety, mostly. Rehanna Rist dropped her cloaking shield and hurried to meet him, a tremulous smile on her face. “Nomar, I’m surprised you came.”
The Jedi gave her a wistful look. “Despite what you must think of me, Rehanna, I try to be a man of my word. Now, you said you wanted a favour. What can I do for you?”
Lady Rist stammered. “I-I…”
A little nudge might be necessary. “Go on. You can do this, Rehanna.”
Lady Rist took a deep breath. “Nomar, I-”
Organa had spun, probing at the unexpected voice, anger and betrayal flickering in his spirit. “What’s this Sith doing here? Rehanna, you tricked me!”
“No, Nomar! I didn’t trick you. I called you here because we need to talk.”
“Then answer my question,” Organa growled, pointing heatedly at Murlesson. He held his ground, trying to appear calm and unthreatening, to not assume even a defensive stance, though his fight-or-flight instinct was screaming at him. “What is this Sith doing here!?”
What did he have to lose by being honest? It wasn’t like the Jedi would believe him anyway. “I’d like something out of the Organa vault on Elysium.”
Organa gave him a look of righteous anger. “I should strike you down where you stand.”
Lady Rist raised a hand anxiously. “No, Nomar, don’t. If it hadn’t been for this young man, I would never have had the courage to call you.”
“Listen, Rehanna,” Nomar said, turning to her earnestly. “You’ve been deceived. The dark side leeches off of the light like a foul disease. It’s time someone cut this cancer out.” Pfft. He had no need of the Light, and what he currently wanted from it originally belonged to the Dark anyway.
“Nomar!” Lady Rist exclaimed in exasperation. “Will you stop being a Jedi for two seconds and listen to me just once! I love you, Nomar. I’ve never stopped. And I’ve spent the last twenty-three years waiting for you to get some sense into that thick skull of yours.”
Organa blinked, something like nervousness appearing in his brown eyes. “Rehanna, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Was he that dumb? “She loves you, idiot,” Murlesson deadpanned. He’d love to twist the knife a little, make the Jedi feel all the guilt that holodramas said he should feel for abandoning a steadfast affection, but that would probably lead to a fight. If the Jedi wasn’t too dense or ‘at peace’ to realize what he was doing.
“Stay out of this, Sith,” Organa snapped.
“No, Nomar,” Lady Rist said. “He’s right. We got engaged against everyone’s wishes, and you ended it and what’s worse… I still love you.”
Her eyes sought Organa’s, pleading, strong feelings bleeding into the Force around them, but the Jedi turned away. “Rehanna, I don’t know what you expect me to say. I’m a Jedi.”
This was even cheesier than Lightning Strikes My Heart. “Tell her you love her,” Murlesson said, pitching his voice low, in the cadence that everyone seemed to consider romantic.
Organa shook his head, now looking confused. “Neither of you realize what it would mean. There is no room for passion in the light side – in the life of a Jedi.”
“Maybe you need to stop being a Jedi,” Murlesson said gently. Just a little more, and he might be able to get what he wanted without having to fight a full-fledged Jedi…
“Stop being a Jedi?” Organa exclaimed. “I couldn’t…”
Murlesson gave him a naively earnest look. “Do you love her or don’t you?”
“Love her?” Organa said. “I haven’t seen her in twenty- but what am I saying?” He sighed, looking more confused than ever. “I don’t know… maybe I was foolish to think that we could ever forget. I’m so sorry, Rehanna.”
“Shh,” Lady Rist told him, taking a step closer to him, tenderness in her eyes. “Just promise you won’t leave me again.”
Organa grimaced. “I… want to… I can’t make that promise. Not yet. Let’s see how the Jedi Order reacts.” She smiled understandingly.
Murlesson began to shuffle backwards. “I guess I should give you two some space.”
Organa turned to him again, but his intent did not seem hostile. “I don’t really understand it, why you helped us like this. I feel like I should thank you, repay you in some way. You said something about the Elysium vault, yes?”
“There’s a particular artifact of Sith origin that I understand is held there,” Murlesson said. “I’m a student of history, you see…”
“I do see.” Organa reached into his pocket, pulled out a heavy electronic key. “I vowed to protect it from the Sith, but you’re like no Sith I’ve ever met. And I suppose I am no longer a Jedi, so I am released from my vow.”
Murlesson bowed. “I am very grateful.”
Lady Rist beamed at him. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have twenty years of catching up to do.” She took Organa’s hand and they walked off together, peace and happiness and just a little uncertainty radiating off them.
Elysium was a strange, ancient, towering structure in the middle of a large valley. There was a landing platform nearby with a special shuttle to reach the otherwise-inaccessible top; Elana Thul had arranged that he should be able to go up. There was a Thul vault up there too, of course, which provided her with an excuse. The shuttle was automated, stationed at the top of Elysium and called down when summoned with the appropriate clearance.
He was a little unpleasantly surprised to see Nomar Organa waiting for him at the shuttle pad. “Surprised to find me here, Sith? Don’t be. That was a nice trick you played back there, but like I said, there’s no room for passion in a Jedi’s heart.” He smiled a little, clearly very satisfied with himself. “I simply indulged your game until I was better prepared to face you. You will not claim that vile artifact.”
Murlesson crossed his arms, arched an eyebrow. “I can’t believe Lady Rist hasn’t killed you yet.” Maybe she didn’t know. But why else would she let her beloved Jedi leave her side? He was a little angry at himself that he hadn’t detected Organa’s deception.
Organa snorted. “Rehanna is a smart woman. And out of the influence of your forked tongue, she was open to reason.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know that idiom,” Murlesson said. “My tongue is perfectly normal.”
Organa blinked. “How can you- Are you-”
“Kid’s a bit sheltered,” Revel put in. “Don’t hold it against him.”
“For the last time, don’t call me a kid,” Murlesson growled, and Revel chuckled.
“Can’t help it. You are a kid.” Murlesson huffed.
Organa shook his head. “Never mind! When you manipulate people’s emotions toward your own ends, you only prove the Jedi philosophy. The Jedi are elevated by higher things than emotion – by peace and justice.”
“I have two issues with that,” Murlesson said, glaring at the self-righteous jerk. “First of all, I’d say that your philosophy is too simple – the universe is frakking complicated and you can’t just reduce it with some pretty words – but then again, I’m motivated by an even simpler reason: I’d like to frakking stay alive. Do you know how many people are trying to kill me for the crime of existing as a Force-sensitive freak? Which brings me to point two: killing people is inherently violent. I didn’t try to kill you. You want to kill me in the name of peace?”
Organa didn’t seem phased by his outburst. “Yes. If that artifact ends up in Sith hands, there will be no peace. If you will not relent, then I will be forced to kill you.”
Organa probably didn’t even know what the artifact was. Murlesson sighed and shook his head. “Khem Val, what is it you do again?”
He sensed his Dashade’s fierce satisfaction. <I will devour this Jedi with pleasure, my master.> He grinned. For once, he relished indulging his monster’s bloodthirst.
Organa drew his lightsaber, setting it in a ready stance. “The darkness cannot hope to stand against the armies of the light!” He charged.
“Typical,” Murlesson managed to say before Organa stabbed into his personal space, forcing him to skip back. Khem stormed in, light on his feet despite his bulk, forcing Organa’s attention away from him. “If I don’t fight back, I wonder what you will do, oh perfect Jedi?”
“You will fight back,” Organa said, redirecting Khem’s blow and stabbing towards him again. “You have no choice, not if your precious life is so important to you. Sith are predictable.”
“You’re right; the guilt it would cause you, while amusing, isn’t worth dying for.” Murlesson spun his saber as it ignited in his hand, moving up beside Khem. Revel aimed, but though he was a good shot and sure not to hit him or Khem, Organa could deflect the beam into potentially uncomfortable places. If they could break his concentration, he would have a better chance of getting through.
Organa struck at him again and again, locking sabers, trying to use his superior weight to crush his guard. “By the way, you’re a colossal hypocrite,” Murlesson ground out. The Jedi didn’t answer, only pressing harder. Probably didn’t want to ‘stoop to his level’ or ‘dignify him with a response’. “You talk about manipulating people’s emotions, but you’re a far worse offender than I am.”
Maybe he was wasting his breath, breath he desperately needed for fighting. He certainly didn’t know what he was talking about from a first-hand experience, only what cold hard logic told him. He definitely didn’t care the way ‘normal’ people ought to. “You tell me I manipulate people’s emotions for my own ends, so what are you doing?”
Khem swung at Organa from the other side; the Jedi disengaged from Murlesson with a Force-blast and turned to deal with Khem. “The Jedi are above emotion,” he repeated. “I will not engage you in frivolous debate.”
He wouldn’t be able to help it. Humans were like that. “She told me she loved you, that she always would, that you were the most wonderful man in the galaxy.” He recovered his footing, slid back into combat range, forcing Organa to divert his attention two ways. “And you just… talked her out of her feelings? Either true love is cheap indeed, or you’re better at manipulating than I am. For your own ends, no less.”
For a moment, Organa’s face flickered, but then he wiped all expression away, no longer listening. “You’re only trying to distract me.” The attacks increased again. Organa’s martial skill and control were becoming quite bothersome.
He’d shout louder, he’d gotten one reaction. “How stupid are you not to know? Even if she agreed to do what you thought was right, you’ve only broken her heart again.”
“You think you know her better than I do? Presumptuous.” Organa threw out his hand, sending Khem skidding away – possibly off the shuttle platform.
They circled each other. Murlesson kept his gaze fixed intently on Organa’s. “People don’t just hope for twenty-three years and then give up. Tell me, did she feel at peace to you?”
“Enough,” Organa barked.
“From her perspective, you’ve only ever acted for yourself! Maybe you should have been more careful with your actions twenty-three years ago!” This was hilarious, or would have been if it wasn’t so deadly. Organa was, slowly, losing his cool.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“No. You’re right, I don’t.” Murlesson grinned, twirled his lightsaber. “And I don’t care. But you, my friend, are dead, and that’s all that matters to me.”
The Jedi frowned, snorted, then his eyes widened and he spun, Force-pushing away the grenade Revel had tossed. He completed the spin back towards Murlesson, but he was already under his guard, lightsaber blade slashing across his side… across hidden armour!?
Organa began to smirk, began to counter-slash, a stroke that would take his head off; Murlesson blocked at the last moment, heat from the blade scorching his cheek, singing his hair. He wouldn’t be able to hold him back for long, it was an awkward stance…
Khem’s great blade came down upon Organa’s head, bisecting him down to the sternum. Murlesson winced a little. He preferred stabbing deaths. This was a bit gruesome.
At least Khem was happy; the Dashade chuckled as he followed Murlesson’s long stride to the shuttle call console. There was no reason to linger, and much reason to hurry. If someone found Organa’s body before he got back, things might be awkward.
As the automated shuttle drew closer to the top of Elysium, Murlesson felt a sense of uneasiness grow within him. The trouble and danger were not over; in fact, more was awaiting him up there.
He didn’t have a whole lot of choice but to go forward. Not only because he wanted to get this artifact as soon as possible, or because Nomar Organa’s death could cause problems for him, but mostly because the shuttle was locked on course, and once he arrived it would be too late to turn back. He just needed to get in the vault, find the one trinket he needed, and get out again. It was a good thing the library had also given him a record of what the artifact was: a cube, not a holocron, but a cube of upari and opila crystals, designed to give a user a certain… focus. What that focus was, he wasn’t sure, and the records had not said. He’d need to see it in person, feel how the Force flowed about it, to understand.
He stepped off the shuttle and was met with a scene of recent destruction. Stray lightsaber slashes had left black marks across the white stone walls, and several pieces of equipment were smashed and smoking. “Looks like someone got here before us,” Revel commented. “Sounds like they’re still at it.”
Murlesson jogged forward, into the courtyard at the heart of Elysium. “Did you want some company, Aristheron?”
“Wouldn’t mind,” Aristheron said, not removing his gaze from the two young human Jedi before him. One was definitely a dark-skinned, dark-haired woman, her chest made that clear; the other one…
“Is that the famous Sabran Kentalon?” Murlesson inquired, gazing flatly at the one with shoulder-length blue hair, who smiled pleasantly back. Murlesson disliked them already. “What are you?” he asked, mostly out of curiosity.
“A Jedi,” Sabran answered.
“No, I mean, what’s your gender?”
“Light-side,” Sabran said, that cheerful smile spreading into a grin.
Murlesson gave them an even flatter stare. “What’s in your pants?”
Sabran giggled. “Sparkles!” And as they backflipped away, for a moment it did seem like the air around them was sparkling with tiny flecks of glitter.
The Force-illusion faded. Aristheron sighed. “You tried.”
“That’s incredibly rude, you know,” said the other Jedi, the woman. “It’s none of your business what gender Sabran is. Especially since we’re all trying to kill each other.”
“Indeed,” Aristheron said, moving to attack again. Vany was in a corner, waiting patiently, unable to effectively attack two Jedi. Revel moved to the other corner, to cover if an opportunity to attack presented itself. “Murlesson, their master is already in the vault. I was too late.”
“What do you need in the vault?” Murlesson asked, moving up beside him with Khem.
“I’ll take the newcomer, Sab,” said the woman. “Watch out for the monster.”
“Nothing, but I’d much rather Kel Reu Giri doesn’t get his hands on anything that could cause us trouble.”
Sabran nodded to their partner. “Got it, Jan. Don’t worry about me.”
Murlesson frowned even as he clashed swords with the woman Jedi. “Is that not the Organa vault?”
“It is indeed.”
“I thought Nomar Organa guarded the only key…” A naive fool he was, to think there could only be one key to a treasure vault owned by one of the most powerful families on the planet. “Hmph. Of course.” Kel Reu Giri had better not take the artifact he needed…
“Hey, Sab, I think this newb was planning to steal from the Organa vault,” said his opponent.
“We have our orders, though,” Sabran answered. “And while I thought we could hold off Lord Aristheron, we can’t hold him and Lord Murlesson at the same time.” He wondered if it was worth pointing out he wasn’t a Lord yet.
“Shucks. Leave to fight another day?”
“You know it. What is taking Master so long?” Sabran was smiling just as cheerfully as before, but there was an intensity in their eyes that betrayed their strain.
“I’m right here, Sabran,” said a new voice, and a Duros appeared in the doorway of the vault, holding the very artifact he had come for – and some other things, a holocron, a different artifact, they didn’t matter. The Duros’s red eyes passed over him and narrowed slightly, mockingly. “You brought another Sith to help you, Lord Aristheron? How cute.”
Murlesson bristled, trying to stay dead-pan and monotone. “I am not cute. I am deadly.”
“Sorry, saying that just made you more cute,” Jan said, giggling.
“I believe you will regret that, sooner or later,” Aristheron said.
The Duros bowed sardonically, then turned to his apprentices. “Shall we leave these meddling ones?”
Murlesson pointed. “That’s mine! It belongs to the Dark; you have no right to it!”
“Then what was it doing in a Light-allied vault?” asked the Duros in a gravely reasonable tone. “Come, Padawans; let us be off.” He turned to move down another hallway, stashing his treasures in a satchel and closing the vault door behind him.
Murlesson, feeling condescended to, snarled, but Jan and Sabran were still on guard, slowly retreating after their master with their lightsabers up. And in the confined space of the hall… “Aristheron, was there another way in?”
“Yes, he and I both came through that hangar,” Aristheron said. “I do not like him to get away, but I don’t think there is anything we can do to stop him…”
“Hells with it,” Murlesson muttered, as Jan and Sabran bolted for the exit suddenly, and he ran after them.
The Duros was waiting, throwing him back with a frighteningly powerful push in the Force, slamming him into the wall behind. Stunned, he could only groan as the three Jedi disappeared, and he heard the whine of a shuttle engine winding up.