I’m actually surprised that a few people weren’t sure which companion Murlesson was going to pick to keep and which to put in the Rakata box, I thought it was pretty obvious. ; )
Turns out this is the second-last chapter after all because I always underestimate how long social scenes are going to go. ONE MORE I PROMISE
Part 37: Ascension
Thanaton’s body was unmoving where it sprawled, his presence was well and truly snuffed out. The final explosion of his soul had not done much damage, only sweeping a hot, bitter wind over everyone. Murlesson let himself float to the ground and nearly staggered from weariness, as he capped his internal wellspring, pulling his aura back in close – though he wasn’t as careful as usual, what was the point? The whirlwind of rubble collapsed unceremoniously, and the dark swirling clouds overhead dissipated like they’d never been.
But the Dark Council was still looking at him, and he was getting mixed reactions from them, so he pulled himself up straight and turned to talk to them. “He’s dead.” Marr and Mortis he could not read; Marr from his mask, and Mortis from his perfectly impassive face. Ravage was annoyed but that wasn’t unusual from what he understood. Baras’s helmet was looking thoughtful. Vowrawn smiled at him. Aruk and Rictus were frowning. The other four were not present. Thanaton’s other holographically-present allies, around the edge of the field, slowly switched off, whether in anger, disappointment, or resignation.
“Good riddance to him,” Ravage said sourly.
“He was a better Sith than you give him credit for, Ravage,” Darth Marr said.
“Let us hope his successor is as worthy,” Darth Mortis said, standing, and reaching out a hand to Murlesson. Why had Thanaton needed to make the thrones and their projections two stories tall? “We invite you to Korriban to meet with us in person, Lord Kallig.”
For a moment he was paralyzed with paranoia. Would they not take revenge on him for killing their colleague?
Their colleague who had lost in a public duel, practically with their blessing. They needed him to take over the leaderless resources, as was customary, before disorder settled in. This was not a trap. This was bureaucracy. Which was in itself a trap, but not yet a lethal one. “Thank you, I will be there soon.” It was anyone but the Dark Council he needed watch out for right now.
“Good show!” Vowrawn told him with polite applause.
They disappeared one by one, cutting the connection.
He looked over at the soldiers, both Thanaton’s and his own. “You’re all dismissed. Inform your fellows of this outcome, and then report to whatever superiors you have left.” Military Command would find a proper place for them; it would take him some time to be ready to command again if he was also having to take over Thanaton’s job in the middle of everything.
Pain began to throb into his consciousness, and he looked down to find he’d blown the tips of his gloves – no, he’d ripped the prosthetic tips off his fingers. Fantastic. That meant he couldn’t even swipe at the bleeding scrapes on his skull or the aching bruises across his body without spreading more blood around. “Frakking… I’d like a medic, please?”
“Here, my lord!” Drellik said breathlessly, running up with a medkit. “Oh, you need… an actual medic. Yes. I will call one immediately!”
And he was feeling lightheaded. All that energy flowing through him wasn’t just damaging to his body, though it was probably very damaging to his body, but his brain felt like he’d taken a lot more electricity in that fight than he actually had, his soul feeling a bit fuzzy and ragged around the edges. At least he hadn’t already passed out, but he really shouldn’t be standing. Would he lose much face if he just… sat down, right where he was?
Aristheron walked up to him, took one look at him, and arranged some stones into a seat for him right there with a wave of his hand. Murlesson only needed a nudge to sit; black spots were threatening his vision now and his body was shaking. “Thanks.”
“I’m surprised it came to this. It’s unlike you to misstep so, Murlesson.”
He couldn’t help smiling. “I didn’t plan it this way, certainly, but I couldn’t let Ashara…” He glanced over at where she was talking with the other Jedi, looking earnest. The Force shimmered about her in blue and gold, just as she had said of herself, and it made her even more beautiful. “She saved me, and what have I ever done for her?”
“Hm,” was Aristheron’s answer. “That’s not a real answer, but I’m sure you will tell me in full later when you have rested. Or perhaps not. I have no right to ask you for details. Will you be joining the war effort once you have been confirmed in your new position?”
“I… I suppose I will,” he said. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Of course. Congratulations, from myself and Vany.” Aristheron bowed and turned to leave, gesturing for his troops to move out.
By this point a real medic had been summoned, and Drellik helped her in giving him water, bandaging the ends of his fingers and the bleeding points on his scalp. She reminded him to see a surgeon for new prosthetics as soon as possible, and recommended that he take a few hours in kolto at the very least to speed everything up. At the same time, the rest of his crew came up.
He glared at Khem. “I think you – both of you – owe me an apology.”
Khem grunted and crossed his meaty arms stubbornly, but then Zash fought her way out and nodded. “I admit it – I underestimated you again. I’m very impressed.” Compliments were not apologies, and he stared at her until she threw her hands in the air. “I’m sorry I scolded you.”
“Accepted.” He couldn’t blame her for doubting him, it had been victory by the skin of his teeth and not according to plan at all. “Khem?”
Khem growled and didn’t look at him.
“Khem Val.” It was like dealing with a child, as the expression went.
<You are my master,> Khem rumbled finally. <I abandoned you when you needed me most. It will not happen again. I will follow you, even when I do not understand what you do.>
“That will do,” he said. “Also, I know it’s tempting, but please don’t eat Thanaton in public, whatever else you do.”
Khem chuckled. <I will not embarrass you in front of the Dark Council, my master.>
“I also dedicate myself to you, Lord,” Xalek said. “You are a mighty warrior, and it is an honour to serve you.”
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s an honour to be served by you.”
“I second the honour it is to serve you,” Drellik said, still passing bandages to the medic. “You won’t be sending me away, right, my lord…?”
“Whyever would I do that?” he said. “You’re part of my entourage, Lieutenant.”
Drellik smiled. “Just wanted to make sure, my lord! Thank you!”
“Yeah, congratulations,” Revel said. “That was somethin’ else, really. Just wanted to say I’m your pilot for as long as you need me.”
“Thank you,” he said. There was still some tension between them. He wasn’t sure what to do about it.
There was a bit of a commotion on the edge of the field, and he looked over to see his soldiers blocking Effie, Nycks, and a dozen or so civilians. “What are they doing here?” He hadn’t given orders… The medic seemed to be done, so he managed to stand, and walk with a reasonable approximation of a firm stride in their direction. “They are acquainted with me, Sergeant. Allow them to pass.”
The sergeant obeyed, with a look askance, but Murlesson didn’t care. “Why are you here, Effie?”
Everyone in the little group was breathing hard, like they’d run some distance. Effie wiped sweat off her brow. “We were preparing for tomorrow when the news came on and started broadcasting your battle, Master! So Nycks and I jumped in the speeder with everyone who would fit and started driving over as fast as we could, but finding parking was terrible. I’m sorry we didn’t make it in time.” She bowed with the Chraemmeft Scukri to him.
He stared. “You are very brave to come at all. I thank you for your loyalty and dedication.”
“It was awesome!” yelled one of the other civilians, pumping both arms in the air. “We all saw you survive the explosion this morning, but you were, like, flying, and throwing lightning, and giant rocks…”
“You sure showed that arrogant schutta,” said another. “I hope he regretted ever messing with us.”
“And he was all like ‘kneel!’ and you were like ‘hell no’, that was great!”
“Yes,” he said, with amusement. “I was there.” He should have expected such a high-profile public duel would be plastered all over the news, but he hadn’t thought about it at the time. Well, it couldn’t hurt his reputation.
“And then your eyes started glowing like in the holodramas! We were all screaming at the holocast in the speeder, Vindi had a portable caster-“
“So are you the new Darth Thanaton now?” interrupted yet another person.
“No, that’s not how it works,” Murlesson said patiently. “If I am made a Darth, I will get my own title. But I may take his position on the Dark Council. If you are uncomfortable with that and wish to have no further association with me, I understand. I thank you for your aid in this conflict.” There was some mulling over his words, and he turned to Effie. “I have many things to do, and cannot talk for much longer now. But thank everyone for their support and participation, and if they do wish to continue to follow my organization, the doors will be always open… as soon as I find you a new building so that you can have doors.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Master. I’m so glad you won. You have been fighting him a long time, haven’t you?”
“Feels like an age,” he said. “Go on. I will talk to you later.”
The Jedi were still hanging around with Ashara, and he went to thank them – they had the least to gain from helping him, and he owed them the most gratitude for it. Sabran saw him coming and pointed, and they all went to meet him, with Ashara shuffling behind them like she didn’t want to be there… “Well done!” said the Rurouni, smiling. Kira was pouting. Sabran was keeping an eye on Ashara. “It’ll be so nice to have an idealist on the Dark Council.”
“A what,” Murlesson said flatly.
“Now I don’t suppose I can convince you to stop using the what-d’you-call-it – the Doombringer?”
“The Silencer,” Murlesson said. “On the Doombringer.”
“That thing. Couldn’t you stop using it to annihilate thousands of lives at once?”
Murlesson shrugged. “I have no reason to.” Plenty of reasons to not stop using it… even if the Rurouni was surprisingly persuasive with those big violet eyes. “Well… I do owe you.”
“That’s right, you do,” Kira said.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Not enough to destroy it. I’m not committing political suicide at this point.”
“But maybe you can be more sparing in its use,” the Rurouni said. “Use it as a weapon of fear instead of an actual weapon? Only fired as a really last resort? Would that be reasonable?”
Ashara would appreciate that. “That is reasonable. I will talk to Pyron.”
The Rurouni clapped his hands happily. “I’m glad! I was worried I was going to have to go deactivate it myself.”
“As long as it’s you, I guess I wouldn’t mind,” Murlesson found himself saying. “But fair warning, they’re going to make more.”
“Oro,” the Rurouni said, a nonsensical, taken-aback sound. “I’ll… see what I can do.” Had he just committed treason, giving tactical data to an enemy? …He didn’t particularly care. If the Rurouni destroyed every factory in the Empire, he wouldn’t particularly mind in the least. The Silencer had done its job as far as he was concerned. Though… maybe he should switch the cult’s chip production…
Kira sighed. “I can’t say that I see what Shin and Sabran and Ashara see in you. To me you seem as bad as Thanaton, just with a better wit.”
He shrugged again. “Your censure is noted and will be ignored.”
She puffed up and growled, so Sabran stepped in front of her. “Well, I’m glad you’re still alive.” They smiled sadly. “I hope to see you again, but I don’t suppose there’ll be much chance of it with you on the Dark Council.”
“No,” he said. “There probably isn’t. But I am very grateful to all three of you for helping me today. I should have said that first. I just wanted Ashara to be all right. And… you’ll take her with you, right?”
“Yes, but not because you’re asking,” Kira said. “She asked us just now.”
“And yes, of course,” Sabran said. “I’ll be glad to get to know her a bit better!”
“She is very welcome,” said the Rurouni. “But we’ll leave the two of you to talk.”
They drew back, and then it was just her and him.
He didn’t reach out; his hands were bloody and bandaged. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Amazing start. “I didn’t expect you to come back. I hoped you wouldn’t come back.”
“Stupid,” she said. “You’re so stupid. I hate you.”
“Strong words for a Jedi,” he said, even while they stung him to the core.
She wiped away tears. “I didn’t want you to die, even if you’ve been… callous recently. I didn’t go after you on Voss just so you could throw away your life for me, even if I made a mistake running away today. And I’m sorry I messed up your plans by not being more careful.”
“You have no need to apologize,” he said, bowing his head as low as he felt he could get away with, without some onlooker seeing a Dark Lord apologizing to his apprentice. He hadn’t wanted her to die either. “It’s all my fault. Everything. I understand why you want to leave…”
“You’re stupid,” she interrupted again. “Also you owe Andronikos an apology.”
“Why? …Oh…”
“Yes, ‘oh’,” she imitated him. “You can’t just do that. Don’t do that.”
“All right. I’ll apologize to him.”
The silence that fell was awkward.
“So you will go with the Jedi,” he said. “They’ll teach you everything you really wanted to know.”
“I hope so,” she said. “I didn’t tell them about… how we met, yet.”
“If the Rurouni can look past my sins, he can certainly look past yours – since yours are really mine by extension.” She was still skeptical, but said nothing. “So I will never see you again. It’s probably for the best.”
She finally looked up, startled. “I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t need me,” he said. “You should be free of me, to do what you want to do with your life. You’ve never needed me, I realize, or anything I have to offer.”
“No, I don’t,” she said. “But I… It’s not like I never want to see you again for the rest of my life. You can be caring, and kind, and fun. You’ve been a good friend, a lot of the time. You helped me when I was in a bad place… even if you kind of put me there. You showed me a whole different kind of life to what I knew. You’re not just a Dark Lord. And… if you wanted to… like… If you keep your inner Light alive, if you hold onto what makes you the person I fell in love with… I might want to see you again.”
He hadn’t expected that either. “I-I will try.” He fumbled for his circlet, taking it off with pain-filled fingers and holding it out to her.
She looked at him with confusion. “But… this is yours.”
“Yes. That’s why I want you to have it. I made it, it will protect you, it will… be something to remember me by…”
She smiled. “Like I need a material object for that. You’re always so worried I’m going to just somehow forget you.”
Fears of a slave, faceless, interchangeable, disposable. “It will protect you, too…”
“You keep it,” she said. “You’ll need protection more than me, and I shouldn’t acquire material possessions.” She leaned in and reached up to kiss his cheek, softly, sweetly, her lips warm.
For a moment he was frozen, trying to sear this moment into his memory. Then he turned his head so he… wasn’t quite kissing her cheek back, but sort of… nuzzling, inhaling her scent – and then he couldn’t help himself anymore, he threw his arms around her and clung to her tightly, trying not to get his blood on her robes but just… saying goodbye. She returned it, trying to give him all the comfort she could.
“I love you,” he whispered. “I really do.”
“I know.” After a minute, she pulled back so she could look him in the eyes. “You’re going to be okay. I believe in you. Remember that, all right?”
“All right.”
“Take care of your cult, and don’t forget to use your power to make the galaxy a better place when you can, okay?”
“All right.”
“I mean, have fun reading all Thanaton’s history books, all right? That’s why you really did all this, right?”
He had to smile a little at that. “I will. Be happy.” He let go of her and stepped back, and she gave him a little wave before she ran off to join the other Jedi.
It was strange to be on the Viper again, familiar and yet different. It wasn’t just that Ashara was gone, but a good deal of it was because Ashara was gone. Not off in the crew quarters, like when he’d been sick, or temporarily gone on a mission or a personal quest, but completely gone, even her few belongings packed off to the Rurouni’s ship.
He still had calls to receive, the first one from Pyron. “Congratulations, my lord. I must admit, I was worried today… but it all worked out in the end.”
“It did,” he said. He didn’t want to admit that he had basically abandoned Pyron, and by extension, Pyron’s family, in his own overwhelming need to protect Ashara by sacrificing himself. “An opportunity appeared, and… maybe I nearly gambled wrong.” That was the only way to spin it for him, and it burned him to say it. “I can’t tell you how satisfying it was to be victorious.”
“It is very satisfying even for one who was on the sidelines,” Pyron said. “You will be ascending to the Council, of course?”
“I have been invited, yes. I may be too busy to direct you for a while, but I’m sure you can work something out with your peers in High Command.”
“Yes, of course. I can tell you are weary, my lord. Please get some rest.”
“Thanks.”
Next were Rylee and Destris, but they left a holo message. “Master! Master!” Some incoherent, excited gibberish. “That was too cool! Nobody can stop you from doing anything, truly!” “I bet you’re celebrating right now, Master, so we won’t keep you.” “But we hope to hear from you soon! Your people all want to offer you praises, and they’d love to hear your words of wisdom.”
And last was a text message from Akuliina. “Saw the news; good job. Hilarious execution. I’ll be seeing you soon, I’m sure ; )” So she was alive. Unsurprising, but good to know. He wouldn’t tell Baras, of course.
When he finally got to bed a few minutes later, at first he thought he was going to be too tired to sleep, as all the exhaustion of the day – of the past few months – fell on him all at once, wringing out every last bit of haywire emotion like his soul needed purging. He curled in his nest, helplessly wracked with dry sobs.
Well, he could allow himself this. For a couple of days, until he reached Korriban, he didn’t have to be responsible. And probably he ought to savour that, because he wasn’t quite sure what his new job was going to be like but he was certain it was going to be intense.
He wondered how many new nightmares he was going to have as the past few months settled into his subconsciousness. But when his emotions drained and he finally passed out, he didn’t have any, that night at least…
Korriban was the same as always – dry, dusty, and ominous. He kept his guard up from the moment they entered the system onward. There was no telling who might try to off the newcomer before he’d even had a chance to take his seat.
But nothing happened as he came to ground, everything seemed routine. The Force was not screaming or muttering or even whispering. He almost found that more suspicious.
Only when he and his entourage entered the pyramid that held the Sith Academy and the Dark Council chambers did his senses rouse uneasily. So someone did want to kill him inside these walls. Well, good; he’d been waiting for it.
And when he came to the upper halls that led to the Dark Council, there were half a dozen Sith waiting for him. They approached him as he came off the lift, drawing their lightsabers though they did not light them. “Stop right there,” said the lead Sith. “Surrender your weapons.”
Murlesson gave them a bemused smirk. “And if I don’t, what do you plan to do? Kill me?” A vaguely familiar sense was present in this corridor, but not one he recognized well, and he looked through them all…
“You’re a child,” said the Sith. “Powerful you may be, but you are not fit to sit on the Dark Council, to rule and give judgement over the Empire!”
Murlesson put his head on one side. “Thanaton is dead, by my hand. This is a meritocracy, isn’t it?” His words were sardonic. “My youth only means I am the future of the Sith. Join me, and I’ll forgive this impertinence.”
“Join you!?” exclaimed the lead Sith. “Do you think I am an apprentice? I am Thanaton’s ally, not his follower. There is a whole strata of politics you have no exposure to. Or did you think Thanaton was alone in his beliefs?”
Time to get serious, then. “No, I’m not so naive as to think that. But Thanaton is dead, what – or who… is this loyalty for…?” There! He hadn’t seen her before, in the back, but… Somehow, Lord Kogni had survived their fight and the fall. “Hmph. You fooled me. Very good. Should you be up, though?” He was going to bisect all his dead enemies from now on just to be sure.
If looks could kill, her glare would have skewered him where he stood. “Don’t patronize me. You’re not the only one who can manipulate your Force sense, Kallig. I will take my master’s place, and carry on his work! I am the future of the Sith. What do you know of politics? What do you know of command besides this one kaggath? You must not live, it is the will of the Sith. I will rule, and keep the Sith on the path of stability and order.”
He put his head back thoughtfully. “Much as I hate you, you probably would be a better Dark Councillor than me. At least at first.” He shrugged. “Too bad I got the invitation and not you. Well. One more thing. When I fought Thanaton, when I fought you, I was tired from campaigning and constant battles. I’ve just had several days of rest. Do you really think I’ll do anything but wipe the floor with all of you without even trying?”
“No more bluffing, Kallig,” said the lead Sith. “Die loudly or quietly, it doesn’t make any difference in the end.”
He drew his lightsaber with a tight smile and dimmed the already low lights in the corridor with his power. He’d grant them the honour of an atmospheric death. “And here I thought I wouldn’t get to kill anyone today. Khem? Xalek?” The enemies ignited their lightsabers and charged even as he faded back to support his more experienced combatants.
This was not a good place for a fight, for any of them – they could only come two at a time in this narrow corridor, and he was partly blocked by his companions. Regardless of how good lightsabers were in a confined space, and though he wasn’t particularly concerned about damaging the Academy, it was going to be difficult to zap them without inflicting friendly fire. Had they chosen this place because he’d have no choice but to hold back?
It wouldn’t help them.
His hand shot out and tendrils of Darkness curled around his opponents, miring them in suddenly thick – to them – air. Their wills struggled against him, strong, enraged, but he was stronger, sapping their power and distracting them, making the first two easy prey for his warriors. The shadows crawled forward around him, hemming in the remaining four; they were trapped against the inner door. There was no time for second thoughts for them now. Whatever they’d been through in their lives to bring them the hate, rage, fear, passion necessary to become a Sith Lord, it was swallowed up by his own.
He wrapped the Force around another’s throat, crushing through the defence of their willpower, and Khem stabbed them. He side-stepped as Xalek was Force-pushed back by his opponent, and shot lightning through the gap at said opponent. The enemy caught the blast on their lightsaber, so he pushed more and more power in, until they could not channel it anymore and it overwhelmed them. Well, now everyone was completely blinded, but they were all Force-sensitive except for Khem – and Revel and Drellik, who were sensibly hanging back – so who cared? Xalek leaped above him to come down upon the last capable combatant, and between him and Khem, the Sith was soon dead.
And then Kogni was the only one left. He waved his companions back and stepped over the smoking bodies towards her. She raised her lightsaber, but she really was in no condition to be fighting. He shook his head at her again. “I’m sorry. You tried so hard. But I can’t allow you to live.”
“You bring chaos to the Empire!” she hissed. “You weaken it more with every passing day! I will not let you ascend to the Council!”
“Chaos is good for you. In moderation. I’m sure the others will counterbalance me. You have nothing to worry about except what you’re going to do with your afterlife.” He swung; she parried; he slid past her riposte with the other end of his blade and she was too slow to counter him again.
If she hadn’t been impatient, she could have done a lot more damage to him. She could have waited, healed, taken him by surprise in a few months. He had to be thankful that she couldn’t stand the thought of him occupying her former master’s seat even for one moment. And hopefully, that would take out the worst of Thanaton’s remaining fans. His fingers were lightly pulsing with pain; he’d done some kolto on the trip, but hadn’t had the tips replaced yet. He turned to his entourage, releasing his hold on the lights; the corridor sprang back to normal illumination. “I think you’re supposed to wait here. I’m sure I will be back soon.”
<Show them your pride, my master,> Khem said. <They will try to intimidate you.>
To establish dominance over the newcomer, of course. He turned towards the inner door.
“Ah, here he is,” said Darth Vowrawn as Murlesson entered the chamber. There were fewer present than previous – Arak and Rictus were not there – and all but Vowrawn were present in-person; Vowrawn was a hologram. He was still on Corellia, if Murlesson remembered correctly. “Welcome, Lord Kallig.”
“Did you have any trouble getting here?” Darth Mortis asked without any real interest in the answer.
“No, not at all, thank you,” he said. Certainly they must have sensed and heard the confrontation and the battle right outside their door. “My lords.” He bowed to them.
“How old are you, by the way?” asked Vowrawn, glancing at a datapad. “Your official record says you’re almost nineteen. That can’t be true, can it?”
After Ashara had suggested Life Day for his birthdate, he’d had Liiddi adjust his records – not just his IDs – so that he was at least the age of majority. In fact, he would be ‘nineteen’ in a couple weeks. For all intents and purposes, he was now two years older than his actual age, permanently. “It is true. Perhaps a little fuzzy, given my origins, but it is true.”
“Most remarkable, and admirable,” Vowrawn said. “Not many know what to do with the power to command at your age, unless they’ve been raised to it – and even then, you get mixed results. But with your background, you can’t have had any instruction at all.”
Vowrawn paused, as if waiting for an answer. “I had enough strength in the Force to commune with holocrons from an early age,” Murlesson told him. “And lucky enough to be enslaved by someone who owned holocrons that were not closely watched.”
“I don’t much care for it,” Baras said. “My best apprentice was about your age, until she turned on me. Ungrateful girl. I hope you don’t intend to cause trouble like her.”
“He’s not even twenty, and he’s only a Lord!” Ravage exclaimed. “You can’t put a teenage Lord on the Dark Council!” He almost wanted to laugh. If only they knew he was even younger than that, Ravage would really blow a gasket.
“Quiet, Ravage!” Marr ordered, and Ravage subsided. “He’s earned his place. He has the power, the knowledge, the cunning. Give him time and he will be just as useful to the Empire as Thanaton was.”
From the eyes that turned speculatively to him, he wondered just how many of them saw him as an easily manipulable rube. He stared back defiantly.
Marr rose. “By order of the Dark Council and in light of your reputation as a master of the Dark Side, you are now Darth Nox. Head of the Pyramid of Ancient Knowledge. You are charged with keeping the mystical knowledge of the Sith and guarding the secrets of our order. With us, you are ruler of all the Sith, answerable only to the Emperor himself.”
“My lord, your seat,” Darth Mortis said, gesturing to the empty place beside him.
Murlesson inclined his head to them as he took his place. “I look forward to working with all of you, and I will do my best to live up to my new position.”
“Never trust the humble ones,” Ravage grumbled with a glare.
Murlesson smiled knowingly at him.
Aristheron came to visit him later, in Thanaton’s old office in the Sith Sanctum on Dromund Kaas – the office with a view, the one he’d received his first official death sentence in. Murlesson had had Intelligence in to sweep for bugs, watching carefully to make sure they didn’t take the opportunity to plant any new ones, and was now indulging himself in disrespecting Thanaton’s memory by spinning the office chair as fast as he could without using the Force to help him; he’d have actual work to do there soon enough, and the more quickly he became comfortable in this space, the better. He stopped when Khem stepped in to announce his visitor, but now he was quite dizzy…
Aristheron looked at where he’d now put his – dry – boots on the desk. “Darth Nox.”
“I’d rather you didn’t call me that,” Murlesson said. “Though if you’re telling me to have some dignity, it’s overrated.”
Aristheron smiled. “I wouldn’t presume to tell a Dark Councillor how to comport themselves. I came to see how you were.”
“I’m… all right. More grumbling over the fact that I’m a teenager than I expected. Fewer assassination attempts than I expected, especially taking the grumbling into consideration.”
“Everyone saw the duel,” Aristheron said. “The prejudice against your age will fade as you prove yourself further. Your strength in the Force will give second thoughts to those who would challenge you openly, and your reputation for cunning and unusual strategies will keep at bay the others who might think to attack you dishonourably.”
“Hard to assassinate an assassin,” Murlesson said. Aristheron pursed his lips at the word ‘assassin’, but did not object. “Actually, I’ve already had two different holodrama studios approach me about adapting my story. While I was deliberately putting on a show for the Dark Council, I didn’t think of who else was watching.”
“Will you allow them such an impertinence?”
Murlesson shrugged. “It could be good PR. Perhaps I’d like to be loved and feared.” When Aristheron still looked skeptical, he went on. “If I don’t like the script or the interpretation, I have the power to do terrible things to them. Of course they’re going to be careful with it. I just have to decide which studio I like better.” Not that he would do terrible things to them. It would be a waste of his time and Ashara wouldn’t like it. He was still a bit surprised they’d approached him already. Sure, his battle had been flashy, and his backstory was dramatic enough for a holodrama, but how did they know he wouldn’t get killed before filming was finished production? Normally Sith biopics were either vanity commissions or happened posthumously. Often very posthumously.
“Very important work.”
Murlesson snickered. “Of course not. My actual work is going to be all-consuming. But I can’t just bury myself in it and ignore the outside world.” He glanced out the window at said outside world. “…It’s strange to be here.”
“I will admit,” Aristheron said, “that when we met, not so long ago, I did not expect you to make Dark Councillor. And certainly not so soon.”
“I will admit similar feelings,” Murlesson said. “I’ve just been trying to stay alive.”
“Your rise has been meteoric,” Aristheron said. “But upon reflection… I do not envy you.”
Murlesson snorted gently. “Even though I technically outrank you? When you’re noble-born, raised to rule and all that, and know this game far better than I do?”
“Looking at what you endured to get here, no,” Aristheron said. “My time will come. But with slightly less torment, if I have anything to say about it.”
“And you still have Vany with you,” Murlesson said quietly. That was something he certainly envied Aristheron for.
“You let Ashara go willingly, and that is the most important thing,” Aristheron said.
“She will be happy,” Murlesson said. “But I kriffing miss her.”
“I know,” Aristheron said.
Murlesson straightened up. “Well. I did want to ask. Would you like to transfer to my command? Nothing would change about our practical relationship. We could work together the way we did on Salvara.” He might be a good strategist, but Aristheron was the older, more experienced commander.
Aristheron smiled and shook his head. “Not yet, Murlesson. I do not mind working together with you, but for now it must be at an appropriate distance. I must have my independence.”
“I… understand.” He didn’t, though.
“But I am glad you are settling in. I shall call on you when I can – the war is still on. And so I must go.”
“Thank you for coming to see me,” Murlesson said, getting up to shake his hand. He’d had his fingertips replaced that morning and they still felt different from his old ones. “I wish you well.”
“Do you know what that was all about?” he asked Khem… or Zash, when Aristheron was gone.
“It’s for your own protection,” Zash told him. “If Lord Aristheron wants a Council seat, the most direct route is usually straight up. Technically, that’s what you yourself did.”
“I know that,” he said impatiently. “You’re saying he doesn’t want to fight me. I somehow doubt he wants to fight Marr, either.”
“True. But let him be where he is. Defence of the Empire is a much better place for him than Ancient Knowledge.”
“I suppose,” Murlesson grumbled. “I just think it would look strange if Lord Laskaris was spending a lot of time with Darth Nox when they’re not even politically connected.”
“Perhaps. I think you’ll have enough to occupy you, however.”
“I’m sure. Like Darth Andru’s overrated writings. After all the trouble I went through to get them, I can finally read them.” He wondered how much snakes would be mentioned.
“And that’s just one possibility!”
It was a few weeks later that Khem came to him in his new office. He was not signing forms – for once – and trying to catch up on understanding the sheer magnitude of his new collection when Khem barged through the door without knocking. <My master, the moment approaches. The lady’s schemes are coming to their conclusion. I can sense her excitement. She must not complete the ritual to banish me.>
“Well, what do you want me to-“
“Relentless beast,” Zash’s voice came out of Khem’s mouth. “Quickly, while I have the upper hand: I have finished the work on my ritual. There is only one more piece required. Will you help?”
He stood and folded his arms. “Let’s go over this again. You already tried to kill me once. Yes, you’ve also tried to preserve my life… for your own protection. But that time is passed. Why should I help you now?”
“So distrusting,” she cooed.
“I wonder why,” he snarked back.
“I can’t try jumping into your body again,” she said. “You’re too powerful now. Too well-known. The switch would be too obvious. You are safe from me.”
He laughed. “You know I’m not stupid enough to believe in safety around Sith, even ones weaker than me.” He’d already survived four other assassination attempts since moving into his new position, and he didn’t expect them to let up for a few years.
“Very well, then. The storehouse you saw was only a sampling of the powerful items I possess. You still have not found everything I laid away during my life as Zash. And don’t forget how helpful my advice has been in navigating these high politics. Can Khem Val offer you that? Can his brute strength give you the knowledge and power I already possess?”
He paced a little. She really was sneaky if he hadn’t found everything yet, after going through her records the way he had. What had she hidden that hadn’t been useful before, when he was sick? “I suppose that’s a point. What does the ritual entail?”
“A modification of the ritual I was attempting before, but one that does not require Tulak Hord’s artefacts. The ritual I propose requires a different thing: a Rakata box. A sort of mental prison employed by the ancient Rakatan Infinite Empire. One of these boxes has recently been discovered, and – as luck would have it – you do happen to be the Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. You can snap your fingers and have it delivered to your chambers as soon as shipping allows.”
He’d missed reading about the discovery in the deluge of information he’d been taking in, but the Infinite Empire had never really interested him that much. Certainly, it was important to know the past, because every part of the past influenced the present, and to know there used to be even more ruthless beings in the galaxy than the Sith was unnerving, but… they just… weren’t that interesting to him. Their culture was too alien for him to care about it much. But if it was useful here and now, that was different. “That’s convenient. I will take your suggestion.” Though he didn’t much like her still trying to tell him what to do.
She put down a datapad before him. “Here is the information on the box. I don’t wish to be pushy, but if you could do this sooner rather than later, I would be very grateful. It’s so uncomfortable in here, having to fight for control all the time.”
“I can imagine,” he said dryly. “Very well. I will let you know when it arrives.”
The box was made in a roughly pyramidal shape of some strange, uncorroded dark metal, about a metre high and half a metre wide at the base. If he didn’t know it was tens of thousands of years old, he wouldn’t have been able to guess. Perhaps he’d have to have another look through the Ancient Knowledge archives for similar objects, out of curiosity. He did wonder how the archaeologists had discovered what it did; the accompanying booklet of notes did not elaborate, only stating that the closest living being would find its consciousness sucked into an endless blank space indescribable by most sentient perceptions. So it must be possible to emerge again, somehow, or else how would they know that? It did appear to have some very sparse controls on one side. Had someone discovered an ancient instruction manual somewhere?
It took a week after his request to arrive, and he had it set up in a laboratory far out in the jungles of Dromund Kaas, in a wide, well-lit chamber free from distractions. It really was rather thrilling to have so many facilities and use them as he pleased – not that he really had time to indulge yet. He was working as hard as he could to learn everything as fast as possible, but there was so much! He was secretly very grateful that the non-Sith administrators of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge were good advisors, helping him delegate responsibilities until he understood enough to take on what his full duties ought to be. He might have distrusted them, but there were a number of reasons why it would not be a cost-effective risk for them to mislead him, so his energy was better spent in just learning everything he needed to know instead of second-guessing everything. The other Sith, especially his peers on the Dark Council, watched him warily, knowing that his power was enough to take out any of them one-on-one, skeptical that a teenager could handle the pressures of this position, but not willing to have the position tossed around again for the second time in under a year, at least not before he proved himself completely incompetent. Which he was not going to prove.
Zash was beside herself with excitement, and he could imagine why. Not that sharing a headspace with Khem was likely to be painful, like it had been for him, but there were many times when he was very glad to be powerful enough that no one could sense his thoughts or feelings, for instance. She set up her ritual with him observing, though she didn’t bother to explain what she was doing, nor did he ask. It did seem a lot simpler than the one she’d set up to catch him in. Probably because there were fewer moving metaphysical parts. He wondered if he should even call it a ritual – the Rakata were technologists first and foremost, weren’t they? Were the necessary steps for using the box not simply more akin to… a procedure? Like, a medical procedure, or something? This was why he stuck to Sith history.
“Excellent,” she said when she was done. She came over to him and gestured. “This Rakata box is key to the ritual. Even as one as Force-resistant as Khem won’t be able to resist the box’s pull. He will be imprisoned, and I will finally have this wonderful body to myself. And of course, then I can begin figuring out how to trade it for an even better body, like I used to have.” She leaned down to look at him closely. “One more thing. Once the ritual has begun, I need you to give me as much of your power as you can so I can resist the box’s pull myself. Understood?”
“Very well,” he said, staring back up at her. “I presume your spirits will separate enough that I can sense you individually.”
“I believe they will. Shall we begin?”
He shrugged. “No time like the present.”
She nodded and went over to turn on the box, and it began to hum. Almost immediately, she froze in place, seemingly held there, bracing herself against an unseen force. “Yes, it’s working. The box is activating. I can feel its pull.”
The body began to struggle suddenly, and Khem’s voice roared out. <Witch! You will not win so easily.>
The body looked at him standing on the sideline. “The monster’s too strong. Quick, give me your power, or I’ll be pulled in.”
He didn’t move. “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
She shrieked. “No! I’ll kill you! You will regret this!”
“Promises, promises. You tried to kill me before – do you think I would ever forget or forgive? That I would ever trust you again?” She had trusted him so easily – but had she had a choice? It didn’t matter and he didn’t care. He hadn’t had a choice when she held power over him. And now, if he allowed her to live, no matter how grateful she was in the moment, how helpful she was in the near future, someday she would make some devious move to destroy him – they both still wanted revenge on each other. He could not allow her to be free.
Ashara wouldn’t like it. And he really did want to be better for her. He was trying to rule his piece of the Empire in a way that she wouldn’t hate, he would give up even his life for her, without question – though she probably wouldn’t want it – but Zash was a piece of his dark, cruel, tormented past that deserved nothing but cruel torment in turn. He was still ruthless to those who hurt him.
<What kind of trick is this? I can’t resist its pull!>
He made no move to help him either. “Khem, if you don’t win, you deserve to be shut away in a blank void for eternity.”
“No! We had a deal! What are you doing!? You have to help me or we’ll both be pulled in!”
Khem had rallied gleefully at Murlesson’s harsh words. <No, witch! You will be pulled in. I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord, conqueror of Yn and Chabosh. And you are trapped.>
There was silence – the box stopped humming, and Khem’s body no longer appeared frozen in place. The monster stopped and rubbed its arms with simple satisfaction.
“Is she really gone?” Murlesson asked at length.
Khem looked at him. <Yes, at last. The witch is gone. Let us shoot this accursed box out of an air lock and go.>
“I thought she’d never leave.” She would likely go insane, stuck in an endless indescribable blankness, with no way to either escape or sleep or die. To be conscious, and yet have nothing to be conscious of… It was a horrifying fate, perhaps worse than death, perhaps worse than outliving death as a Force ghost, and he really ought to make sure that none of these things were ever found and used again – especially on him. He began to turn away, to order the box disposed of, but Khem wasn’t moving. “You… have something else to say?”
He was taken completely by surprise when Khem knelt before him with more humility than he’d ever seen in him before. <You are the heir of Tulak Hord. Your strength is great. I will guard your legacy forever.>
Khem had, at one point, promised to follow him forever if he could get Zash out. He hadn’t taken that promise seriously. Khem had also promised to murder him enough times that he felt this new oath was rather outnumbered. “My legacy, hm?” he managed to say after a long silence. “I feel you’d be more likely to eat any children I manage to acquire.”
Khem chuckled deep in his throat and stood. <Come, let us feast on our enemies.>
He didn’t believe it was truly permanent. Khem would try to kill him again someday, as would Xalek – as would everyone. But at least Khem was straightforward about that.