Lots of interpersonal interaction in this one! May have gone a bit overboard with the ritual but… uh… I like torturing my characters haha. (trigger warning for suicide attempt, even D:)
This is as far as I’ve gotten in writing over the break, so updates will resume being sporadic from now on, but I won’t stop until I’m done this story!
Part 26: Death Knell
Murlesson, returning to his hotel room after dinner, found Xalek had followed him. “What do you want?”
“A moment to speak, Lord.”
Well, that was unusual. He let him in and went to collapse on the couch and put his feet up on it. He left his boots on; it was a bad idea to take them off these days. And hey, he didn’t have to clean the couch.
Xalek sat carefully on a chair across from him and stared at him silently for a while until Murlesson flicked an impatient glance at him. “Lord, you are a great warrior.”
Murlesson snorted derisively. “I didn’t know you knew how to use sarcasm, Xalek.”
“I do not. I sense what you endure, Lord. Many Kaleesh would falter under similar circumstances. But your will is like durasteel. You fight despite your weakness, and you win. You are ruthless to those who do not deserve your concern.”
“And that makes me a great warrior, does it?” Murlesson shrugged. “I would think it just makes me stubborn.” Congratulations, you successfully duped the idiot Kaleesh.
“As you said, a warrior has both strength and cunning.” Xalek fell silent, leaving Murlesson to fill in the blanks.
“Thanks. I guess.”
There was a long silence between them, then Murlesson asked: “Does that mean you’ll actually do as I say now?”
“Yes, Lord. It is my honour to serve you.” Xalek bowed, and his aura seemed… very sincere. He probed it for signs of falsehood, but there were none.
“Honour, hmm?” Honour wasn’t very useful for him. Ought he to trust Xalek’s declaration? Too easily, he felt himself falling for a mental trap of ‘the Kaleesh is a simple man, of a simple culture’ and he knew that wasn’t true just because Xalek didn’t speak much and disliked reading. He was odd to feel in the Force, showing neither hatred, nor anger, nor fear, only a cold, determined stillness. It was unsettling even now, but it was different than before. Less forbidding than it had been before. Was it because Xalek had finally pledged himself to him? He still fully intended not to trust him – not until he’d proved himself more. “I don’t fight with honour. It would get me killed. I don’t recommend it.” Wait, why are you being honest with the fool? If he fails to see through you that’s his own fault.
“You fight with enough,” Xalek said. “You try to impress the Jedi girl and the other Lord.”
Murlesson frowned uneasily. “Is it real if I don’t mean it? If I would break it immediately if it were profitable to me?”
Xalek hesitated. “I believe you are not entirely without real honour, Lord. Somewhere.”
“What a lovely vote of confidence,” Murlesson said, hauling himself to his feet and heading for the refresher. “Wishful thinking on your part, but you’re stuck with me. You make things too simple.”
“And you make things too complicated,” Xalek said. Murlesson whipped around, wondering if he had just made a joke, and caught a flash of white teeth behind the bone mask. Xalek had just made almost a joke.
“Yes,” Murlesson said, wondering how to react, then falling back into wryness. “You’re not wrong. And I suppose I talk too much, too.”
“Yes, Lord.”
He snorted. “Well then, you can be my simple blade. I’ll wield you for combat, not for subterfuge.”
“I would have it no other way, Lord.”
He came out of the refresher to find Xalek had gone and Ashara was pacing in his place; he could feel her writhing emotions from behind the door and was… sort of prepared to see her.
“Murlesson!” she said before he could even ask how she got in. “We have to talk about the lightning.”
“How did you get in?” he demanded.
She huffed. “Jumped from my balcony to yours. Stop electrocuting people! Innocent people! There was no reason to do that!” There were very good reasons. Such as ‘he was aggravating’.
“He was taking too long!” Murlesson said defensively. “We lost the target anyway, if you had let me start with that we wouldn’t have had that delay.”
“You-!” She fumed, clenched her fists, was clearly trying to keep herself from exploding. Her aura swirled like the stormclouds outside, glimmering dully, shadowed with her emotions. “Do you realize how much therapy that guy is going to need? Unnecessary therapy! We’re here to help people, not hurt them!”
He almost snapped off a retort about Sith, but swallowed it, gritting his teeth instead. He was trying to be good. Good is overrated. “And I suppose you would have caught up to Giri by asking nicely?”
She stomped her foot. “I realize you think the end always justifies the means, but not if the means are evil! You really need to stop! Just… stop being cruel to people! I know you don’t actually like it!”
He snarled, though she couldn’t see his bared teeth through his mask, and began to prowl through the living space around her; she kept pace with him, looking ready to fight for real. “What I like doesn’t matter! Sure, the things I do are terrible by normal people standards and cause me pain when I let myself think about them, but I’m still weak by Sith standards. Cowardly! Indecisive! Ineffective! And it’s because of you, because I do try, I didn’t use to hesitate like this. You’ve taken my ability to be ruthless-”
“That’s a frakking lie!” she screamed over him. She was really mad if she was swearing with real swears. “I’ve done nothing like that to you! Whatever you felt, it started before you met me! All this talk of ‘necessity’, that’s a frakking lie and you know it! Why are you like this!? You’re better than this!”
“Are you trying to redeem me again? Before I die or something? How the frak can I be ‘redeemed’ when I’ve never been ‘deemed’?” he said sarcastically. “I refuse to be a frakking Jedi, so what the frak do you want from me!?” She wants your obedience; she wants control. All Jedi do.
“Why the frak do I love you!?” she screamed. “You’re the most selfish, mean, arrogant jerk I ever met-”
“Just go away if you’re just going to call me names!” he yelled, Darkness seething around him with fury and pain, barely under his control. “Leave me alone!”
She stared at him for a minute, panting, then jumped out the window.
He collapsed to his knees on the floor, his head in his hands, and he couldn’t tell if the screaming sounds were in his head or in his throat.
No. He couldn’t lose control here. Too many people. Tomorrow, in the wilderness, looking for Giri’s trail. He could vent then. He choked his emotions down, past his unevenly thumping hearts, swallowing his misshapen aura back into hiding.
He needed caf. He wasn’t resting now. He had to get to work. Gods, it hurt so much, why did her anger hurt so much?
He fled to the Viper – he still couldn’t freak out completely there; even without Zash working away in the conference room, there were still people outside. The port might run on the same time as Heley City but it was never quiet.
Still, it was quiet inside his cabin, and familiar. The slightly musty smell of his sheets, the faint hum of the air conditioning, the soft glow of holocrons, it comforted him.
Comfort won’t help you, boy, said one of the hissing whispers that never stopped. He was starting to lose the ability to tell them apart. More terrifying, he was starting to see shadowy shapes around him out of the corner of his eye when he was alone and in the dark. Not when we’re so close.
He pulled off his gloves and began unwinding his bandages to check on his deterioration. The darkening extended up to his wrists now, black threads winding up his forearms; it was similar with his feet and ankles and shins. As he peeled the stained cloth away from his fingertips, drops of blood rolled down his fingers. The tips of his fingers were crumbling away, cell by blackened cell, and while they scabbed over under the bandages temporarily, they ripped open again whenever he changed the bandages. It was depressing, taking showers and watching the drain swirl with thin crimson trails, knowing he was leaking constantly. But it threatened to fester if he just left the bandages on; the chief medic on the Acrimonious, once she had the vaguest understanding of where his affliction came from, had recommended keeping them clean over keeping them closed. He wondered what sort of zombie he would turn into if it went on long enough – legless, armless, rotted skin, snarling mindlessly at any unfortunate enough to approach – but he would die of blood loss or dehydration first, surely. The pain was constant and even the strongest painkillers in the medbay did little to keep it under control. And he was taking too many; he didn’t dare check what his liver thought of it all.
He hoped Zash would find something soon. He was running out of time.
Zash won’t get rid of us. You will never be rid of us.
“If you really believed that, you wouldn’t feel the need to constantly remind me.”
Your struggling is embarrassing. We’re only trying to make it easier for everyone. But when your time is up, we’ll take over. We’ll show you how to be a true Sith, remorseless and strong. You can’t be a good Sith and a ‘good’ person.
“Fine,” he hissed, tearing off his mask and stomping over to the mirror. “Fine, I’ll bite. I am a true Sith. I’m certainly no Jedi.” His eyes darkened dangerously, the Force flaring around him.
Oho, he speaks to us directly! We were so lonely, you know, all these weeks of being ignored or told to shut up like pests…
“You are pests, you Force-damned parasites.”
Is it his friend that inspires him? His friend has given him strength, given him some of his teeth back, even if he’s not a true Sith.
“You take that back.” That was… probably true, except for the part about – Aristheron was a Sith in spirit even if he leaned into the Light, how dare they. But seeing Aristheron, being able to talk to his oldest friend about some of the things weighing him down had reminded him more of who he used to be.
Who you used to be? Pfa, don’t make me laugh. You used to be at least a little more vicious, more relentless, your hatred more raw and festering. Now you simply wallow in your misery and run away. The pressure in his head grew stronger and he gritted his teeth at their wordless assault.
He snarled at the mirror. “And whose fault is that, hmm? You think my hatred has weakened? I don’t care what you think. I have my goals, and hatred drives them inexorably.” Just because he wasn’t a powerless bit of sentient debris getting actively abused anymore didn’t mean there wasn’t still a wellspring of Darkness inside him. Fuelled by them themselves! Did they mistake depression for passivity? How could they, when they were stuck inside his head and could hear every thought?
The girl has weakened you. I thought she had potential for great Darkness but it seems I was wrong. She’s hamstrung you, left you paralyzed between your mission and your lust. You’re NICE.
He let out a noise that might be construed as a sarcastic laugh. “You think I’ve ever had the luxury of doing what I want and how I want? Pleasing her is just another complication on top of the many others I’ve always had to deal with.”
An impossible complication. And an unnecessary one. How many times must we tell you? You cannot destroy Thanaton – destroy your enemies – destroy all Sith, if you truly wish to, though you’ll never make it – while restraining yourself to suit other people. You told them so yourself.
“I can do it, you infernal busybodies.”
And here I thought you were smart… I think you don’t want the power to truly do as you will. It terrifies you, the responsibility of absolute freedom. To have to make real decisions for yourself and yourself alone. That is what it means to be Sith, and that is why you are weak. The pressure spiked and he slid down to his knees, one arm holding himself up by the sink, the other hand pressed to his face, smearing blood on it. Cold sweat washed over him and he couldn’t help a whimper.
His voice was hoarse, ground out through his teeth with fast quick breaths. “You’re wrong! And you think I should listen to you, to let you tell me what to do? How big a fool do you think I am? Like hell am I going to let you make decisions for me!”
You are a fool! So you’re going to waste all your efforts, everything you’ve done so far, to please the girl? She will never truly accept you – she may say it with her words, but her spirit cries out against you. You will never be ‘good’ enough for her, and even if you somehow managed to cast us out, you wouldn’t last long among the Sith. Not anymore.
“I kill whomever needs killing. I killed Ten-!”
And have been wracked with guilt ever since, amazing, delicious, soul-piercing guilt. No. You are strong in your weaknesses… and oh-so-weak in your strengths.
It was a terrifying thought and he was almost starting to believe it. Had he lost track of his original goal? No. He still wanted to wipe the Sith from the galaxy – to destroy anyone who could hurt him – but it was going to be harder. What they said sounded very plausible: that it would be impossible without making an impossible choice. “That’s not your concern. I’ll kill you before I kill them! You’ll never see me win because you’ll be dead! Again, by the way!”
I don’t know what delusion you’ve drawn your hope from. Must we remind you again? You think you’re the puppeteer, but you’re just the puppet!
“I will evict you from my skull even if it means splitting it open and tearing you out myself!” Murlesson howled, and immediately made a high-pitched squeal of agony and frustration as torment ripped through him. He thrashed and writhed and kicked, blind, deaf, and numb to everything except the pain, the laughter inside his head.
You’re a defiant little boy. It’s so much fun to play with you now you’ve got a little energy back.
He flailed in the direction of where he’d dropped his mask. “All right, talk’s over!” He slammed it back on his head; it grated against his horns but the effect, while marginal, was enough to give him a sensation of relief, though he still had to lie and moan for a bit. This was why he never talked to them.
Lieutenant Talos Drellik entered the Viper’s cargo hold the day after the unsuccessful ambush to make sure his tools were all in order for Lord Kallig’s expedition in the afternoon. Most important were his various cameras, and to ensure he had enough data storage for both stills and holofilm. No archaeologist ever knew how much was ‘enough’ when venturing to an unexplored site, so it was always better to have too much than too little, but Lord Kallig was so very generous with his funds. He was confident he would be fine, at least for a couple days. If the expedition proved to be long enough to last, Emperor willing, a whole week, Lord Kallig would certainly allow him to acquire more. It was so delightful to work for someone who really valued his expertise and passion!
And on to the simple tools, the brushes, trowels, hammers and chisels and others, but those were easily placed in order. It would take a little longer to go through his collection of scanners and samplers, especially since some of them were very new, never used yet-
He heard a sound and jumped and gasped, spinning to see – a black-shrouded lump behind one of the crates on the other side of the hold. “M-my lord, is that you?”
The lump raised its head, and he saw Lord Kallig’s mask, looking ominous as usual. But then Kallig groaned and pulled the mask off, and Drellik saw his face for the first time in weeks – tired, sickly sunken and shadowed, alien yellow eyes listless and… perhaps more red-rimmed than usual? “Drellik.”
“H-how long have you been here, my lord?”
“I’m not sure,” Kallig confessed weakly. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Ten hours, perhaps? I wanted to get away from… people.”
“I… I see.” He’d heard shouting from his master’s hotel room the previous evening, but he’d tried to ignore it. It wasn’t his business. “Can I help at all?” The poor boy looked so… defeated. Heartbroken, almost. Heartbroken was probably exactly the right word, actually. If this was about Kallig’s callousness towards civilians, Drellik was firmly on Ashara’s side, Jedi were actually delightful people to have around – but he didn’t like to see him having such an upsetting lovers’ quarrel, either.
“I don’t know,” Kallig mumbled, his head rolling forwards onto his chest. “I know Zash is in the other room with all her research spread out over the conference table, but I’m not talking to her about this… I suppose I’m not talking to you about Sith philosophy, either. Drellik, what do you know about… girls?”
Oh dear. Well, he’d expected as much. “Er… not terribly much, to tell you the truth, my lord. I can listen if you care to tell me, but I can’t promise to have any useful advice.”
“You’ve never had a relationship?”
“I’m afraid not. I was, er, known as rather a geek throughout my education, and after I entered the Service, well… not many women joined the Service to begin with, and those who did weren’t interested in me. But it’s all right! I have found my work very fulfilling, and you never know, perhaps someday I will meet a like-minded partner. …But I don’t suppose that is very helpful to you.”
“I like her,” Kallig muttered towards the floor. “I like her and I want to make her happy and I kriffed up yesterday and now she hates me.”
Drellik found a smallish crate and sat on it near the young man. “I’m terribly sorry. I don’t think she actually hates you, though.” If Kallig thought he had done wrong, that was an immense step forward. Drellik had always guessed the boy was a good boy in a bad situation – he did right by his subordinates, for one thing, even if he insisted on calling them all ‘minions’. Few other Sith Lords would have tolerated Drellik, let alone encouraged him to indulge in what he did best, or, Emperor forbid, treated him occasionally as a friend. Kallig must be horribly lonely, so young and already so powerful, and power did not invite true friendship; Drellik couldn’t imagine it.
Kallig heaved as if he were trying not to sob. “You weren’t there. You didn’t sense her emotions.”
“Did she say she hates you?”
“No… But she might as well have.”
“Did she leave? I know she didn’t try to fight you. I do believe even I would have noticed that.”
“No… not before I left, anyway. She’s probably left by now. Or if she didn’t, she’s only staying because stopping Giri is more important. I don’t want her to leave. Everyone leaves or dies eventually and I can’t stop it.”
“If she hasn’t gone yet, then you still have hope,” Drellik said, trying to be comforting. This was all rather heavy. “There’s still time to apologize.”
Kallig sort of half-crawled, half-rolled out of his corner to slump against the side of the crate Drellik was sitting on. “How do I apologize for such heavy sins? How do I ask forgiveness without another fight breaking out between us? While she’s angry, she won’t listen to me even if I’m not trying to start anything.”
“Perhaps you could try beginning by text transmission?” Drellik suggested, completely out of his depth. He’d never seen his master this low-spirited since he’d failed to defeat Darth Thanaton, and it really wrung his heart. Especially since it was in matters of the heart; he’d hoped the two young people would be able to find happiness together, but perhaps they were too young?
“If she’s left then I’ll just look desperate.”
“If you like her that much, my lord, it shouldn’t matter.”
Kallig was silent a while. “You’re right. That’s my pride talking. When did it get so big?”
He was fond of the young man, but his pride had been quite large enough for a while. Except in matters of archaeology, when he was more than willing to learn. But Drellik ought to be lenient, the boy was still very inexperienced, and romantic relationships were notoriously difficult to navigate. “I must say, I don’t think flowers and sweets will really be persuasive… but it might help a little bit? It’s traditional, after all.”
“I realize it isn’t as good an apology as changing my ways, but I don’t know how to prove I want to change-” Kallig cut off as if embarrassed. “I do want to, no matter what these psychos say. I’ve decided I do. I am still a Sith! But I… For her…” He stopped. “I can’t make promises. I’m scared to change.”
“I understand,” Drellik said.
“I spent all last night thinking and thinking and fighting with my parasites and at the very least, I can try to treat others in a way that pleases her. If it doesn’t interfere with – or sometimes it could interfere – it depends on the situation and I… I don’t… What do I do!?”
“What is it in particular that you wish for, my lord?” Drellik asked gently. “The first step in solving a problem is to identify it.”
Kallig spoke slowly, as if re-evaluating everything before he said it. “I… I want these idiot ghosts out of my skull, first of all. I won’t know peace until they’re gone. Or while Thanaton pursues me. And then… once they’re all gone… I want to… to go somewhere… safe… and… read, and sleep… gods, I want to sleep – and just… I would want her nearby, to talk to, and watch holos with, and hold on to, if she’ll let me, just so I can see her happy… She’s beautiful when she’s happy.” Kallig slumped to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself and rolling around, making distressed little noises. “I wish I could make her happy, but I don’t think there’s much chance of that…”
Drellik really had no idea what to say. The word ‘safe’ had tugged his heartstrings – when, indeed, had this boy ever felt safe?
“Especially since I don’t know what other cruelties I’ll do in pursuit of Thanaton – indeed, what I’ll do to him once I fight him. Yes, I realize I’m getting ahead of myself, you’re still in here, shut up. I don’t know what atrocities I’d stoop to in order to get you out of here. And is it my habit of thinking the quickest route is the best, or do I really have no choice? Am I sincere in wanting to change, or is it just because I feel bad right now? How do I tell until it comes to a point, and if I don’t know, how can I give her an honest answer the way she wants?” He curled up into a lanky ball. “It’s hopeless, I may as well just off myself.”
“Now then, my lord,” Drellik said; he never failed to be alarmed when Kallig threatened suicide, even if half the time it was an attempt at black humour. “She certainly won’t be pleased by that.”
“She said that before, but we never had such a fight before. Strange, isn’t it,” and Kallig’s voice drifted off to a dreamy murmur, “we should have had far more to fight about, opposites as we are, and yet now is the time that we threaten to fall apart?”
He sat up suddenly. “It is strange, actually. I think we can blame Giri. Did you feel any different on the planet?”
“Er…” Drellik thought. “Now that you mention it, I was feeling a bit… I’m not sure how to put it, my lord. Irritable and despondent? But just a little. I thought it was the weather and seeing what he has done to the planet.”
“He’s not just doing things to the planet, but to everyone on it, including us while we’re there.” Kallig flopped back down. “But that didn’t cause me to torture that man. It didn’t cause me to fight with Ashara. It just made it worse.” He sighed long; he looked so very tired. “And I’m sorry for dumping this on you. You don’t need all this… teenage whinging.”
“Don’t trouble yourself, my lord,” Drellik assured him. “That’s what I’m here for, to help out however I can.”
“Worse than a kriffing holodrama,” Kallig muttered to himself. “Thank you for listening.”
“Do you know what you will do, then?”
“Sort of. But I’m not going to do it yet. You…” Kallig’s voice sank nearly into obscurity. “You’re important to me, too. Thank you for… for… er… stuff.”
“You’re welcome, my lord,” Drellik said, trying not to let on too much how his chest flooded with warmth at the confession. Kallig was like the nephew he’d never had, and to know that perhaps he felt the same was deeply gratifying. “I’m truly glad to be with you.”
Ashara showed up with Xalek and Revel two hours later, when he’d asked them all to return to the Viper. He didn’t know what to say to her, and her aura was still clouded and her face was still frowning as she walked past him to the holoprojector. At least she was still there. The thought of her leaving had grown like a cancer in his chest. He had once said she could leave whenever she wanted, but the thought she might leave because he drove her out had become unbearable, adding yet another kind of pain to his constant existence of agony. How melodramatic. You’re a sentimental fool.
He had to deal with it later. Business first. “I had intended for you all to help plan the mission this afternoon, but I’ve already figured out where Giri is going on these little adventures so this is more of a briefing than a planning.”
“Great!” Revel said. “I like when we know what we’re doing.”
He wouldn’t go that far. “You weren’t there when I met with Aristheron, but he mentioned that Giri had just come from a world called Voss. Voss is extremely obscure, but rumour has it that there is a great concentration of Dark Side energy in the wild places of that planet. The Voss natives are, in contrast, either completely and utterly Force-deaf, or Light-leaning, even if stubbornly neutral politically. Aristheron informs me that Giri did not appear to spend much time with either faction; therefore, I believe he was investigating this Dark Side concentration.” I think we should go there when we’re done here. It sounds most intriguing.
Drellik put up a hand. “Do you know anything of the history of this concentration?”
“Very little, though I believe it’s the source of his knowledge of this little ritual he’s building. But I know why he’s come here.” Murlesson began to pace restlessly. “Salvara, beneath the corruption he’s forced onto it, does not feel terribly Dark, does it?”
Ashara was silent. “No, Lord,” Xalek said just before he was going to pretend the question was rhetorical and move on.
“No, it doesn’t. But it did use to belong to the Laskaris family. With Aristheron’s help, I’ve acquired an esoteric text on the distant history of Salvara… and lucky for us, it came with a map.” He let himself smile in grim satisfaction at the one thing that had gone conveniently right in a while. “Care to guess what Giri’s been up to?”
“Visiting ancient Sith temples, my lord!” Drellik said.
“You and your temples,” Revel grumbled. “I know you’re probably right, but can’t you think about anything else?”
“You’re exactly right,” Murlesson said. Drellik had helped him figure it out, after all. “He’s found a way to connect the foci of the forgotten, undisturbed Dark places of this world, and in doing so to tip its balance. To what end this aids him, besides making me grouchier than usual planetside, I haven’t discovered yet… But I think it is important to point out that they were not built in any particular pattern. They were constructed as the world’s early Sith inhabitants spread organically across the continents. That means there is no easy way to disrupt his entire ritual at once, but it also means any temple is as good as another to visit first.”
“Can’t we just blow them up, if we get to be in a hurry?” Revel asked.
“It would be nice, but no,” Murlesson said. “You can’t just ‘blow up’ the Dark Side, the Force. It lingers until a counter-influence actively attempts to neutralize it or replace it or balance it or whatever you want to call it. It would lessen the site’s effectiveness a bit, certainly, and with time it would fade if the physical anchors were completely destroyed, but the site was already forgotten and weak. He’d just work around it.”
“So what’s the plan, then?” Revel said. “Where am I flying?”
“The closest one to Heley City is here,” Murlesson said, pointing it out on the map. “I will be going in to impose my will over Giri’s, to return the currents back to their original state. Drellik will be going to take pictures. Everyone else is going as security. I may not be able to fight while dealing with the Force, and I have no idea what we’ll find.”
“Will Za- er, Khem… or both, be coming?” Revel asked.
“That’s up to her,” Murlesson said. “I don’t think either of them will be necessary until we fight Giri himself, and what she’s doing right now is important to me, but if she deems this important enough to come along, she will. She knows about it, if that’s your next question.”
“Well, I’ve got my orders, and my coordinates,” Revel said. “Are we ready to go?”
Murlesson nodded. “Launch when ready.”
As the others left, he caught Ashara’s eye and indicated the engine room. She glared at him, but moved in that direction.
Alone, with the door closed behind him, he felt his throat constrict and swallowed. It didn’t help.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
“…I’m sorry,” he said quietly. How difficult those two little words were to say! How dare you debase yourself enough to say them.
She huffed and folded her arms. “Are you?”
“I am.” No you’re not.
Her eyes narrowed. “Take your mask off and say it.”
He reached up and removed it. You’re whipped, pathetic boy. “I’m sorry.” He really was, whatever the voices said. He was even quieter this time, and he couldn’t keep his gaze focused on her eyes, but she seemed to soften.
“Well, I’m still upset with you.”
“I know.” This is why you shouldn’t bother trying.
She shuffled and made an unhappy noise, fidgeting with her hands. “Actually, I… don’t know how to say this, but I think we should take a break.”
Ice dropped into his stomach. One of his worst fears, the one he’d tried to avoid. “I-”
She was suddenly much gentler. “It’s not just this whole… thing. It’s also… our relationship flies in the face of the Jedi order, the Jedi code. And the Jedi code is the way I’ve lived my whole life.” She paused, fumbling for words. “I’m… sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to. I know you’ve been hurt enough. But I don’t know how else to live. And I’m scared.”
That made two of them. He turned away, hearts pounding, and gripped the safety railing with both trembling hands. “Please. I… I need you.” Fear is of the Dark Side… but I sense this is not the chance we’ve been waiting for.
“Surely you don’t need a Jedi-”
“I don’t need a Jedi. I need you.” The thought of having to fight everything alone was too terrifying to contemplate. Sure, she would still be present, probably, but it wasn’t the same. “Just a while longer. Perhaps you don’t believe me, but I want to do better for you.” Weak!
He heard her gasp and take a few unsteady steps closer to him. “…Really?”
“I can’t promise I’ll succeed,” he mumbled. “But I will try. I did so much thinking, and you’re important to me…”
She came right up to him, and he nervously turned to face her – but her face was filled with an anxious wonder and concern. “I really wasn’t expecting that. I… I guess I’ll stay. And… thank you, for agreeing to try.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled uncertainly. “I… don’t want to fight like that again. I fight with enough people as it is.” Coward! Cut her out of your life before she can hurt you again!
“I’ll try and be patient,” she said, breathing deeply as if starting right away.
“I knew you were angry but I didn’t expect you’d be that angry. You didn’t react that way when I zapped several people on Commenor.”
“Well, I regret not doing more then, I still feel guilty about those guys even if they were assholes. I failed my principles as a Jedi. I didn’t do anything.”
“You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. You couldn’t have stopped me.”
She shook a finger at him. “No more torturing people, okay? And only kill in fair combat.” HOW DARE-
“But I only engage in unfair combat if at all poss-” She gave him a Look and he raised his hands submissively. “All right. I’ll only murder people fairly. And assassinate people who deserve it for the greater good. And if they hurt me. And if they try and hurt you.”
She sighed, but it was with exasperation. “Are you going to even try at all?”
“Yes, I promise.” He hung his head. “I want you to be happy with me. I’m… strong enough that I don’t need to take brutal shortcuts anymore. Like you said.” Probably, anyway. YOU’RE A TAMED, WHIPPED, NEUTERED WEAKLING. He gritted his teeth and ignored them.
“Thank you for listening to me,” she said. “I really will try to be patient and not expect you to change all at once. And if there’s anything I can do to support you…”
“Positive reinforcement might be nice,” he said. “It would be a novelty, anyway.”
“I would be glad to- You’ve never had positive reinforcement?” She looked and sounded shocked out of proportion with what he was expecting. Again.
“I guess Zash… rewarded me… when I did well in school… -oh! Of course, she gave me this ship when I killed Skotia for her. …Also so I could go fetch her artefacts so she could try to steal my body. So it certainly wasn’t altruistic.” He thought for a while. “Not much else coming to mind. Aristheron when teaching me to fight, once or twice, perhaps. I’ve had to generate my own rewards.” As Sith ought to do. She knows nothing.
“Oh… Murlesson…” She reached up, put her hands on his shoulders to lean in to kiss him-
None of that! Before she got anywhere near his mouth, sharp pain lanced through his head and he collapsed with a sharp cry. “Frak. Oh, frak, it hurts…”
“I’m so sorry!” She wrung her hands beside him, then let out a short laugh that suggested she’d rather cry. “How am I supposed to help if I can’t touch you?”
“Just… be near me,” he grit out, massaging his head uselessly around the horns above his temples, then putting his mask back on. “Support me. I won’t let them win.”
“Okay,” she said. “For the record, it’s a lot easier to support you when you’re being less ‘lordly’. Any chance you can ease up on that, at least until you kick them out?”
“I’ll try.” You will never win. You’re only going to sink further into enervation and insipidness.
“Then I’ll do my best.”
He nodded and pulled himself wearily to his feet. “Let’s get ready to go.”
The temple that was their destination was deep in a forest, completely submerged in trees and nearly inaccessible – but there was a river nearby, and that thinned the trees enough for Revel to put down about a ten-minute walk away. He was the slowest of the band that set out from the Viper; Xalek was out ahead with Revel, and then Drellik with a bulging backpack of equipment, and then Ashara with another sack, and then him, lagging behind.
There was just something wrong about this planet; whatever Giri was doing, it was translating into an extra pressure in his head and chest, a buzzing, a presence that seemed to weigh down his body physically. Was it even worse than before because he was closer to one of Giri’s nexuses here? He could barely breathe, and with his head already messed up and his body falling apart, he was not going to be up to physical combat today. Just walking to the nexus was going to be triumph enough. Pathetic. You think you can barely walk!? “Maybe if I weren’t carrying four jackasses piggyback, it would be easier,” he snarked softly.
Ahead, a worn stone door gaped among the tree roots, carved with ancient symbols of strength. The gloom within smelled damp and mossy and of death and putrid rot. As Revel hefted a powerful flashlight, it became apparent why: Giri must have butchered the temple’s animal inhabitants. There was a large pile of fur on one side of the first chamber, buzzing with indigenous flies and uninviting to further investigation.
What he wanted was further in, anyway. He directed the others to continue straight ahead.
Sometimes you remind me of me, said one of the ghosts in his head, and he looked around to see the shadowy form of a Togruta wandering beside him. Kalatosh Zavros, then. I was once a Jedi, full of spit and fire – for peace, of course, until eternity showed me that peace is, as you Sith say, a lie.
He wondered if there was a point to this, why Kalatosh was talking to him in the first place when surely he was the one who hated him the most.
Hate you? What, for having eyes for my descendant? No. I hate you for binding me. I simply don’t think you’re good enough for her.
Then what?
We are similar, more than the others. Give me control and I’ll cast them out. I don’t care for them much either.
A tempting offer, but he’d rather keep his sanity.
You didn’t have much to begin with. Your mind’s been warping since you were born, since you were ripped away from your wretched mother, hasn’t it? You can barely resist my control as it is. Kalatosh began to reach for him, for his head-
“No!” he gritted out, and the others turned sharply at his outburst – then realized it was just the ghosts again and kept walking reluctantly as he waved them onwards. Anyway, he wouldn’t make that deal with himself, let alone someone who most definitely did not have his best interest in mind.
Stubborn. Pity. We would have done great things together.
“Shut up now, I need to concentrate.”
They had finally reached a larger chamber; one of the back corners was revealed to be collapsed in the light of Drellik’s lamp and Revel’s flashlight. The damage looked old, and the Force did not convey immediate danger to him. But the Dark Side here… it was a knot, a lump, a miniature spiritual black hole that filled the chamber and radiated out across the planet. Even Xalek seemed bothered by it, if he read his body language and Force sense correctly, and Xalek was very comfortable with Darkness.
He closed his eyes, reaching out into the physical and mental Darkness, feeling how the Force flowed through the ruin, into it, out of it, around it. This wasn’t something that could be academically studied – not easily, at least – and he had no idea what he was doing. But taking a good look at the situation couldn’t be a bad idea.
“Did he fall asleep?” he heard Revel whisper to Drellik, sounding much louder than it ought to with his heightened senses. The click of Drellik’s camera sounded like a gundark trap springing.
“Absolutely not,” he said, and heard Revel snort. “You try looking at invisible things and tell me what you see.”
“I’ll pass, I’m good,” Revel said.
He finally opened his eyes again. “Ashara, let’s have those artefacts.”
“Right here,” she said. “How do you want them?”
“I’m not sure yet. Let’s try a few things.” Worst case scenario, the Dark Side broke free of Giri’s influence and his control and killed them all, but much more likely, absolutely nothing would happen except he’d wave his hands and look foolish. Or maybe something in between – it killed him and left the others alone. That would be fine, then he wouldn’t have to put up with all this druk anymore.
He’d brought artefacts that amplified will, artefacts that channelled the Force into conduits more easily. He wasn’t sure it would work on something this dense, but he directed Ashara to place them around the edges of the room. He wanted the Force to rest passively here, not to gather and spout forth. I almost think we should gather it into ourselves, but I don’t think this body can handle that.
When it was ready, he braced himself and walked straight into the heart of the concentration. It enfolded him into itself, welcoming, threatening to siphon his strength and send it out to poison the world like the rest. He glanced in the vague direction of the others. “Get ready.”
“Ready for what?” Drellik asked.
Murlesson reached out with both hands and pushed. Lightning crackled, flashing through his closed eyelids. It was so massive… heavy… cold…
Ashara cried out and her lightsabers hummed to life; Xalek’s after hers. He opened his eyes a crack, saw strange dark monsters attacking his companions. They were more present through his metaphysical senses than his physical ones; they were manifestations of the Force, drawn from their own minds, attacking the intruders who would dare tamper with their lair. Ashara slashed one and it poofed into nothing.
He couldn’t worry about that. They could take care of themselves. And they would have to take care of him. All his attention was on untangling the gigantic knot around him. He still had no idea what he was doing, relying now on instinct. He heard Revel’s blaster go off rapidly; they certainly sounded busy.
Darkness curled around him, trying to drown him. It sang, silently deafening, an inaudible roar, thousands of years of a planet’s worth of tragedy and rage all coming to the singular point of his mind as he touched it and he almost screamed under its weight. How could he, so young, so fragile, carry these feelings, let alone dissipate them?
He gritted his teeth and hissed. It was too soon to be screaming. He was of Darkness; it flowed through his veins; it was the cold poison that yet slept in his belly. It couldn’t take him! The wind was rising and electricity was flickering through the darkness but it wouldn’t stop him. His hearts were rushing in his ears as he strained against the weight, reaching out for the artefacts he’d placed before. It needed to go somewhere else and settle! It didn’t belong here! There was no anchor strong enough here, half of it was simply held in place by its own metaphysical gravity. It was starting to give way, and he panted as he fought it. It seemed to fight back, worming its way into his mind – but that was already occupied.
For once, his parasites would be useful, they had to or be destroyed with him, and the uncontrollable strength that had possessed him when he tried to fight Thanaton suddenly surged up. His body flexed helplessly in its grip, and only the fact that they were sort of working with him let him connect to all the artefacts. None of them knew what they were doing, but it was happening anyway. He cried out with a million voices, the voices of all those who had died here, himself a conduit for all their emotions – and the knot burst.
A mighty wind crashed around him, directed by the artefacts, rushing out towards the exit of the temple, and suddenly – tranquility. The Darkness pooled around him, no longer savage, and he stumbled sideways and nearly fell if not for Ashara. It felt old, worn, faintly breathing of forgotten sorrow, of undirected hatred. Whatever had happened here, it no longer remembered itself.
“I-is it over?” Drellik asked breathlessly. “That was quite exciting!”
“It’s over,” Murlesson confirmed, opening his eyes. And flinched; all four ghosts were standing next to him, visible in a faint glow in the darkness.
Ashara saw them too, and whirled on Kalatosh. “Okay, all four of you are incredibly rude, but you’re the most rude. Knock it off!”
Kalatosh just chuckled as they faded back into the shadows.
“Oh… I couldn’t get a picture,” Drellik said, sounding disappointed. So the others could see them as well, not just the Force-sensitives.
Murlesson was too tired to care. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance. You can head back. I’ll just double check.” And he’d pick up the artefacts, the ones that were still intact. And probably the broken ones as well, they still had historical value even if their metaphysical essence was destroyed.
“I’ll stay with you,” Ashara said. “No falling over!”
It was going to be impossible to obey that injunction, with his knees feeling as noodly as they did. “Just… give me a minute.”
He returned to the Viper, again behind the others, shedding equipment the moment he stepped off the boarding ramp – artefacts, water bottle, even his lightsaber – heading to collapse in his cabin… but found Zash in his way. “I… have news,” she said.
Her tone struck foreboding into him and for a moment, he wouldn’t let himself think about it. Maybe he was reading her body language wrong. “What is it?”
Zash’s voice and face were gentle, as much as they could be filtered through Khem’s body. “I’m sorry, Murlesson. I don’t think there’s a cure for your condition.”
“What?” Ashara said, before the full import of what she’d said sank into him. “No, that can’t be right. The Force has an answer for everything. Especially a Force-specific condition. We just did something completely nuts down there ourselves. Surely…?” Behind her, Drellik froze, his mouth falling open in anxious distress; Revel’s face grew very grim, and Xalek hovered uncertainly.
“I wish it were otherwise, I really do. But everyone who’s written about voices in their head, about their body decaying like this, died before finding an answer. No one’s ever taken in four ghosts before.”
“But what about-” Ashara began. “We were looking at- What about the guy who was trying to go into the Force-”
Zash shook her head. “He died.”
“What about the guy who was looking for the machine? Even if there’s a small chance it works, we should take it! We’re not just going to let him die!”
“It will kill him. It was always a risk. We just didn’t know how much.”
He’d weighed that risk when he started out, when he was still doing research on his grandfather, when Thanaton had first asked him to go die in a hole. He’d thought it acceptable then… but he hadn’t planned for the very worst, that there would be no solution. Like Ashara, he hadn’t thought it possible. May we say we told you so?
“No, no, no!” Ashara said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I refuse to accept this! Not now!”
Zash sighed. “I don’t know what else to say, Ashara.” But her gaze was steady on him, trying to gauge his reaction. Ashara burst into tears.
He took the mask off. He was having trouble breathing with it on. His voice was very small. “…Really?”
“I’ve looked everywhere I can think of. If there is a solution, it was never documented. Everything that everyone tried ended up killing them, and those were the lucky ones. You can die slowly to their corruption, or you can die quickly trying something that doesn’t work.”
Caught in a cage of death any way he turned. “There isn’t a way to fix it.”
“No. There is no cure.”
For a moment, everything was silent as ice settled into his soul. Even the ghosts were quiet. He would have thought they would gloat. Maybe this was their way of gloating, watching him finally, utterly break.
Everyone heard the clatter of his mask on the floor and the snap-buzz of his lightsaber from where he’d tossed it onto the table earlier. The others gasped; Ashara screamed and threw herself at him, tackling him to the floor.
“Don’t you dare!” she shouted in his face, her tears dripping on him. “Don’t! Not now! Not after everything!”
“Ashara-! You’re-!” He could pull the lightsaber to himself, but she was in the way.
“I’m not moving!” she told him, pinning him down to the decking. “If you try and kill yourself, you’ll kill me too!”
And he couldn’t kill Ashara, no matter what. He wasn’t that far gone… yet. If you can kill yourself, you can kill her. What, she’s more important to you than your own life? Go ahead, I dare you. Do it!
He thumped his head on the floor to make them shut up. “Stop it!”
“No,” she said, though he hadn’t been talking to her. “I will not. You can’t do this, even when it seems like there’s no hope left.”
Tears were beginning to run down from his eyes, catching in his ears. He was regretting having taken his mask off, now everyone could see every shred of emotion that wracked him. “There isn’t any hope left! I’m already dead! Everything I do is useless!” Now you truly understand, boy.
“No it isn’t, and no you aren’t! You can’t give up, even now. I don’t care what Zash says.” He could feel her warmth trying to soak into his bleak, diseased spirit. Her voice was becoming more soft and gentle. “The real question is, what are you going to do with the time you have left?”
He hiccuped, staring up at her, still leaking at the eyes. “I don’t know. There’s nothing left. There’s no point.” Let us in…
She scrunched up her forehead. “Come on, you’re not just going to let Thanaton win, are you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” Nothing mattered. Why bother to kill Thanaton when he was going to die immediately after? Would he even make it that far? He’d just spent so much time and effort getting the 44th fleet and now it was just going to fall out of his lifeless hands. At least Aristheron would put it to good use.
“You’re not going to leave me yet, are you?” she whispered, apparently not caring that they were having this in front of everyone. “I love you. Even though we had that fight, I still love you. I don’t want you to go, not until there’s no choice left.”
He swallowed the rest of his tears. That was the most convincing argument.
Oh, the vaunted power of love. So weak and flimsy, easily broken. No one loves a snake, not for long. Soon your sins will become too much for her, and then her ‘love’ will disappear like a snowflake on Mustafar.
He gritted his teeth against the voices. She waited.
“…I won’t leave you,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She sagged in relief against him as she heard the lightsaber shut off. “Oh thank goodness.” She kissed his cheek – for some reason, Kalatosh didn’t retaliate this time – and pulled away to get to her feet, then helped him up.
As he got up, he saw Revel slowly holstering his blaster. “Just in case I was going completely insane?”
“It was on stun,” Revel said gruffly. “If ‘Shara hadn’t gotten there first, I woulda done it.”
He sighed. “Well, no rest for the wicked. Let’s go kill Giri so that blight is excised from the galaxy at least.”
“Now you’re talking,” Revel said.
“I can, of course, keep looking for anything I’ve missed,” Zash began.
He shook his head at her. “Don’t bother. It’s not worth it. I’ll need both you and Khem for Giri.”
“Then…” She hesitated. “In my free time, I’m going to start researching a solution to my own predicament.”
“Whatever makes you happy.” With luck, he’d be dead before she found a way out.
Author’s notesssss: It’s true! We are not going to Belsavis at all. There is no cure that can fix him in time in this headcanon, and I’ll talk more about my reasoning later. About Belsavis specifically, I didn’t like the Inquisitor’s storyline at ALL, and I apologize to the person who wanted to see the Dread Masters storyline but it doesn’t have much relevance to Murlesson’s personal journey right now. (But I will let you know that when I played through it recently, Murlesson picked the sarcastic option when he met them and got Force-dominated for his insolence. He wasn’t impressed.)