Oh my god, I had this chapter mostly finished three months ago and I got so hung up on the Selonians. I think this is my third version of the scene? I’m pretty confident about this version.
The final scene in the chapter is inspired by Run by Disturbed : D
Who knows when the next chapter will be out!
Part 33: Labyrinth
Jeik had hacked a random speeder for him, and he drove it recklessly. He hadn’t really practised in months and it slid across the road dangerously, made worse by his twitchy overcorrecting. His breath came quick and his hearts thudded distractingly; Darkness was with him, his anger and fear taking over, but it only aided his reflexes; it didn’t tell him how to drive.
Xalek had called from his own base to report the attack really was underway, and that Lord Skar was causing a lot of damage. Even Xalek was having trouble with him. Not good. Jeik and his Mandalorians would be able to take the other base in its current state – he’d killed or crippled anyone foolish enough to attack him, and there were not many personnel left after that – but that meant he had nothing to bring to defend his own except himself.
He’d gambled, he’d hoped his own base would remain hidden a little longer, long enough for him to whittle down Skar’s base, force Skar to stay on the defensive, or at least that Xalek’s talent and ferocity would be enough to hold the line.
He grazed a tree and jerked the yoke to the right, then left again to avoid hitting a parked speeder. He was going at least twice the legal posted speed down this street; to make matters worse, CorSec pulled out behind him, sirens blaring. He swore and leaned backwards, reaching out his hand, and their engine exploded.
There was his building, his base, and the front door was a smoking ruin, as was the side door. He could see flashes of laser light from the second floor out of five… Xalek was doing well to hang on, then. He skidded up to the side door, bouncing the speeder off the wall and putting another huge dented scrape into the green paint. That wasn’t the worst of the damage, as he simply kicked the door clean off with the Force and dashed into the side entrance, decapitating the enemy sentries with clean sweeps of his saber and sheathing it again in a breath, bolting up the stairs. Just before the top, he stopped, going silent, assessing the situation before him.
Xalek and his soldiers had retreated behind a second floor blast door, which was just holding… barely. In the trashed conference room before the door, Skar’s soldiers were burning through it, slowly, while Skar paced behind them. He was a big man, though slightly shorter than Murlesson, with ugly power armour covered in cables and pretentious spikes; he had a short shock of dark hair exactly on the top of his head, and tattoos like blood dripping down his face. “We will consume this galaxy in fire before this war is done. Fall behind and you will burn, too.”
His fury rose in his chest; how he would enjoy killing this one. And strategically, if he got Skar’s attention and divided it, Xalek could counterattack. Murlesson let his cloaking fall away, letting Skar sense him, and lit his lightsaber again; the big man turned with a slight twinge of alarm that he hadn’t sensed Murlesson approach. “I’m the fire, and I’ve come to consume you.”
“You, a fire? You’re just a boy.” Skar curled his lip. “I can’t believe Thanaton hasn’t killed you yet. Attack him! He is a traitor to the Empire!” All the soldiers rushed forward, raising their rifles to fire-
“Fight me yourself, coward,” Murlesson growled, knocking the soldiers back against the wall with a swat from the Force. Two of them didn’t get up again.
Skar smiled wickedly, apparently not minding his underlings’ instant defeat. “Who said I wasn’t going to?”
Murlesson barely had time to react before Skar was upon him, single-bladed lightsaber swinging towards his head with utter control. He barely had time to block, throwing up the Force between them and ducking away, blurring his image with all his might, throwing up illusionary clones to confuse his enemy. It was like fighting Aristheron; heavily armoured, disciplined, wielding a single-blade… and very physically strong.
His hearts were thrumming with fear as he skittered about the battlefield, one step ahead of his opponent’s blade. He needed distance to work! “Who’s the coward now, eh?” Skar hissed, never quite hitting him, striking his illusions away one by one. The blade scorched his cheek, grazed his thigh. “I do not fear you. You are nothing compared to Thanaton.”
“Is that why you’ve been his apprentice all these years? Fear of him?” Murlesson spat, spinning his saber, battering more of Skar’s strikes away from his body while dancing backwards. His height advantage was negligible, and Skar’s weight was much stronger than his. His hair was starting to fall in his face and he shook it away impatiently.
“There is no shame in admitting it. We all seek the master who is capable of holding us in check. My fear of him is the reason I’m still alive.” That Skar could fight this way and still have a casual conversation… Murlesson barely registered that the blast door had opened and battle had been rejoined between the two groups of soldiers, or that Xalek was doing an excellent job of ensuring no one shot at Murlesson while he was focusing his all on Skar.
“Alive and still stupid,” Murlesson said. “You’ll fear me before you die.”
“An ignorant, clumsy slave like you will never kill me,” Skar said, lunging again, and his saber stabbed Murlesson in the shoulder where he’d already been shot.
Murlesson shrieked and lashed out wildly with the Force, pain and fury coursing through him, and Skar was knocked away. Everyone was knocked away, though he barely noticed anyone else. All semblance of calculation was torn from him. There was only the instinct to hurt that which had hurt him, and he raised his right hand and his eyes to the unseen heavens, pulling on his raging passions, then flung it downwards, pushing Skar into the duracrete wall until it cracked with a spiderweb pattern.
He clutched at his shoulder briefly. He couldn’t raise his left arm, and he’d dropped his lightsaber somewhere, but it didn’t matter. Time to get the real fight started. His lips cracked into a twisted grin, and he knew the Dark Side was transforming his face, darkening his eyes behind his dishevelled hair, lengthening his canines into fangs. “I was never given the chance to find the master who’ll hold me. Now none can.”
“No,” Skar agreed, recovering himself out of the wall and brandishing his saber, looking at him more warily. “Now you must only be put down.”
He wasn’t advancing for long, as Murlesson struck again; Skar resisted it this time, skidding slightly on the tiled floor. Murlesson grinned and hit him harder; this time Skar went slamming back into the wall again, cracking it again. This he could do all day.
Skar picked himself up yet again, setting his own will stronger, re-evaluating him. But Murlesson spread his arms, over the agony of his left shoulder, channelling his pain into power, the Force gathering to him like a lightning-flecked hurricane. Skar flinched.
The first lightning bolt sent Skar jumping for cover; he couldn’t block an electrical strike of that intensity. But anything that could have been cover in that room had already been destroyed. Skar rolled and came up on one knee, looking wild-eyed himself, and reconsidered all his life choices. And ran for the stairs as the second lightning bolt slammed into the floor where he had been.
“Oh, there will be none of that.” Murlesson stood straight and proud and terrible, and the exit collapsed before Skar. The building shook as he pulled pieces of it apart, his only goal to trap this enemy here, this arrogant posturing schutta who thought he could best him.
“I-I yield!” Skar cried. “Your power is unbelievable… I will join you!”
“It’s far too late for that,” Murlesson hissed, trapping Skar in a whirling column of debris. His enemy lashed out uselessly with his saber, but every piece of duracrete and rebar he cut apart just meant there were now two pieces circling him. “You’ll pay for what you’ve done.”
The building shuddered, and the floor slipped under Murlesson’s feet. He caught himself reflexively just in time, but the groaning of strained architecture grew louder.
“What are you doing!?” Skar shouted over the howling wind and the sizzle of electricity. “You’ll kill us all, including yourself!”
Murlesson laughed, Darkness laughing within him and with him, barely registering the danger. What did he care when his enemy was grovelling before him?
“Lord!” Xalek cried from his side. “You must not die here! It is far too soon!”
The familiar voice broke through his murky haze and he looked around. The ceiling was sagging in, the windows had burst, and he’d accidentally knocked out several support columns. The floor tore open before him. In the other room he could hear and feel the terrified screaming of the soldiers trapped there.
He’d gone overboard, and now there wasn’t anything he could do for them. There was barely time to get out himself. He dropped everything and turned to hurl himself through the closest window, catching himself in the Force and spinning around, landing lightly on the road. The building was beginning to collapse, tilting towards him. Skar burst out from the window next to the one he’d jumped from, the tattoos on his face melding with the blood streaming from his brow.
Murlesson planted his feet and pushed, and Skar went flying backwards into the heart of the crumbling destruction. For a moment he thought he could hear the roar of rage over the roar of the falling building… and then the grinding of duracrete drowned out all else.
It took a long time to finally settle. Murlesson reached out when it was quiet and found a faint presence. Skar had survived… though not for long, judging by the fluttering of his pulse. He reached into the pile of rubble that had used to be a building, gripped that body bearing the presence, and pulled it free straight up.
Skar’s body was broken; he was rasping for breath. But one of his eyes still gleamed with futile hatred from under swollen lids, his face coated in his own blood. His breath rasped between broken teeth, and he still had the presence of mind to try and spit at Murlesson.
Murlesson snapped his neck and dropped him back into the rubble. Then remembered something else and reached out for his lightsaber, which snapped to his hand, not looking particularly worse for wear.
“A magnificent display of power, lord.” Xalek huffed beside him, having jumped out the window before him, probably. He was holding his side, which had a long charred gash along it.”I do not sense any other survivors. Theirs… or ours.”
“No,” Murlesson said, and turned abruptly to him. “You are not to speak of this to anyone.” Especially Ashara.
Xalek nodded calmly. “As you wish, lord.”
It was still bothering him when he came back to his headquarters in Incorporation Islands, after he sent Xalek off to medical, after he’d visited medical himself, when his adrenaline had cooled and there were no Sith before him to spur his passions. The whole day was bothering him. The soldiers and mercenaries he and the Mandalorians had killed in the street fight; the soldiers lost at Thanaton’s base; the soldiers lost at his own base. Those still bodies, those doomed screams were fixed in his mind; the terror of their last moments still resonated in his own soul.
His immediate conclusion was that he was not actually cut out for war. He was an assassin, functionally speaking, not a warrior. Sure, he’d murdered thirty-five slavers in under five minutes, back on Nar Shaddaa, but they had been slavers. Those soldiers had deserved better than to die such a horrible death all because he’d lost control. Though every loss the Empire took was a step towards his final, most secret goal… that didn’t convince his wavering hearts either. Death was final and permanent for almost everyone…
They were all tools, he told himself firmly, pawns, with no other purpose than to be used up, just like they’d tried to do to him. No one in the Empire actually cared if a few soldiers died. Somehow it wasn’t as convincing as it should have been. The screams echoed and he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.
He thought of Thanaton again. That was better. Hatred surged through him like venom, empowering and sickening. He would do what he had to, no matter the cost, no matter the regret, if it took Thanaton out of his life.
He must have been thinking too loudly about it because Ashara appeared before him. “Hey. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Long day. Intense fight. That’s all.”
“I heard you got hurt,” she said, and reached out to touch his shoulder, her Force-touch taking away some of the pain and no doubt quickening the healing under the kolto patch. Her brow furrowed in sympathetic worry. “Ouch. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help. But that’s not all, is it? Wanna talk about it?”
“Not particularly.”
“When will you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“Never.”
She huffed. “Not the answer I’m looking for, boyfriend.”
“Not now.”
“Then when?”
“Why are you pestering me about it?”
“Why are you being a jerk about it?”
He turned without answering, breaking the healing contact, and went back to working on his console.
“Murlesson.” She waited. “Murlesson!”
“I’m busy and I don’t have time to deal with feelings right now,” he snapped.
She blazed up at him. “You’re too busy to make sure you’re not too emotionally compromised to do the thing you’re trying to do?”
That made him pause and look up at her, really look at her, see that the worry in her eyes was genuine and not just that she was trying to sniff out his transgressions.
“You should rest,” she said more gently. “You work so hard, and you just got hurt. What are your minions for, if not to delegate to?”
Getting killed, apparently. “I can’t delegate everything,” he said, half-grumbling. “But… I will think better after a rest.”
“That’s right. Go to bed.” She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “Love you.”
That stabbed him further in the chest with guilt. “I love you too.” As she moved to leave, he stood suddenly and reached for her hand. “I haven’t spent enough time with you recently. I’m sorry.”
“It’s hard to date and run a war at the same time, huh?” she teased awkwardly. “I’m here for when you have a moment. But don’t forget that I love you, right?”
“I love you too,” he said. “I think about it – about you a lot. I don’t think to say it. But I should. I should try. More.”
“Say it when you remember,” she said gently, and turned to head out.
He called for Khem Val, but he really wanted Zash. “You don’t know anything about Thanaton.”
<What is there to know?> Khem rumbled. <He is your enemy. He is clever but clings to rules as if they will stand between him and a blade. Only for others, not himself. He knows he cannot control you, so you must act as if you do what he wants until it is time to strike. He will be suspicious, but he will not know where you will attack from.>
“That’s not unhelpful, but I was looking for something else,” Murlesson said. “Get me Zash, please.”
Khem grumbled some more, but twitched, and the look in his eyes changed.
“Ah, Murlesson,” Zash said. “I gather you’ve been busy. Well done, you’re acting exactly as you ought.”
“I know, and I didn’t call you out so you could butter me up,” Murlesson said. “What do you know about Thanaton?”
“Not that much, actually,” Zash said. “He went to some lengths to hide his original identity after he became Darth Thanaton. But he’s a lot like you. Perhaps that’s why he hates you so much.”
“Fantastic,” Murlesson said savagely. “I hope he sees his death in me. Well, I need to know more. As much as you can. Find out who he was, what he’s done. I know about as much as you know – all he’s done since becoming Thanaton. Don’t go over that, go before that.”
“I’ll need uninterrupted time,” Zash said. “Can you afford to spare Khem for long?”
“I don’t like it, but I want to know this,” he said. “When I need him, I will let you know. You can have a week to begin with.”
“Then I’ll get to work.” Her eyes gleamed. “This is exciting, Murlesson. Let’s find something to really get under his skin.”
“That’s exactly what I want,” he said. “Even just his true name might shake him. But do all you can.”
“I will.”
The tunnels lay open to him now, unguarded, unwatched by any of Thanaton’s minions, and some of the entrances were not hard to find. The Empire had explored some of them, and some were a matter of public record. But a lot had been forgotten in the long history of the city, known only to those who lived in their depths. A bit like Nar Shaddaa, except a lot shallower. Still, he hoped that these tunnels would allow him to cross the city undetected and arrive wherever he wished – maybe even beneath Thanaton’s own main base, still in the Museum of Industry.
But it wasn’t going to be so easy, naturally. The ones who lived in these depths were largely Selonians – tall, slender, furred aliens originally from Corellia’s sister planet Selonia. And while they were reputedly friendly enough to converse with, they did not like allowing outsiders into their homes, even Corellians. And even friendliness to the Empire was flat out; all the local tribes were fighting the Empire with all their strength.
“I looked up a bit about them,” Drellik said to him as they and Ashara descended together down the access tunnel closest to his new base. It had been two days since he destroyed Skar; he had to move quickly now while Thanaton was blind to him. The tunnel was pitch dark except for the occasional electronics pilot light, but Drellik had a powerful beam light, which he directed mostly right ahead… except when he got distracted by something on the tunnel walls. “Fascinating people, such an unusual culture! A shame they are so hostile. Though I suppose they have good reason to be.”
“That’s right,” Ashara said. “I’ve been asking local people around here about them. I’m so excited to meet them. I really hope it doesn’t come to a fight. I don’t want to hurt them.”
“Is there anything I should know?” He’d read the bare minimum, but he was counting on Drellik and Ashara to have done the heavy research while he was just trying to keep the kaggath going.
“They live in matriarchal dens,” Drellik said. “Most of them are female, and most of the females are infertile. Somewhat like an insectoid race, though they are mammalian. Descended from a semi-aquatic species, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Family is super, super important to them,” Ashara said. “Everything they do has to benefit their den first and foremost. And they don’t lie.”
“Honourable to a fault?” Murlesson asked.
“More like, they feel the responsibility of the truth really heavily, because the family is more important than the individual. Like, they don’t lie to their family, so they don’t lie to anyone. Or that’s what I was told. I’m not sure I get it.”
Murlesson frowned. “I want to object on the grounds that ‘truth’ is intensely subjective, and why wouldn’t they lie on behalf of their den or whatever, but it’s not important, is it? They don’t lie. Understood.” So he would have to try extra hard to appear trustworthy. “I’ll have to tell the truth for once… The things I do for power.” Ashara bapped him in the arm. “I’m joking.”
“And don’t underestimate them,” Drellik said. “They may appear to be beasts, and their culture to our eyes may appear primitive, even savage. But they’re reasonably intelligent, and they certainly understand modern Corellian technology.”
“Though they don’t really like clothes,” Ashara said, trying not to giggle. “But, I mean, Wookiees don’t like clothes either. I guess that’s common among heavily-furred races? They don’t really need it, do they?”
“Are there any etiquette things I should know about?” Murlesson asked. “Or can I rely on standard humanoid gestures such as bowing? How should I refer to the matriarch?” The beam of light wavered to the side, towards an admittedly complex-looking pile of scrap. “Drellik!”
“Sorry, my lord!”
“I, uh, didn’t ask about that,” Ashara said. “I was like ‘if I wanted to talk to some Selonians, what should I know?’ and the people I was talking to were basically like “just respect them like any other species, don’t lie, and…’ and I forget the other bit. Oh! ‘Remember the tunnels are their territory’. Which is kind of the reason we’re down here, isn’t it.”
“You can probably call the matriarch ‘your ladyship’, I think that will work,” Drellik said. “She’ll be the one with the most elaborate adornments. She might even have a throne, if they bring us to the heart of their den! She will probably be pregnant, she’s always one of the breeding females.”
“All right,” Murlesson said. “They’re coming to meet us now. I don’t suppose I have to remind you to keep your weapons away. Even if they attack us.” This was the sort of mission to leave Khem at home on.
They walked further into the tunnels, pretending he didn’t know the Selonians were there, until there was a whisper of movement in the tunnel ahead and a surge of hostility through the Force. He reached out his hand. “Hold.”
A moment of silence, and then furred shapes came bounding out of the darkness with terrifying swiftness. He clawed his fingers and they slowed, slamming into the manifestation of his will like into a wall of gelatin. “I mean you no harm, but attack me again and I will harm you in self-defence.”
<Go no further, off-worlders>, hissed the foremost attacker. <Invaders! Imperials! You are not welcome here. Begone before we tear you apart.>
“You cannot touch me,” he said. “My name is Murlesson Kallig and I wish to bargain with your den. Will you bring me to your matriarch?”
<I am the den mother,> said the Selonian, drawing back slightly and raising herself to her full, intimidating height. She had no more jewellery than the other Selonians with her, nor did she appear pregnant. She held a giant glaive that could probably cut all three of them in half with one strike. <I am Murthil. And you will go no further.> She raised her glaive to attack again, and the five other Selonians with her did likewise. Drellik flinched.
“Listen to me,” Murlesson said, raising his voice in command. “I am Murlesson Kallig, Lord of the Sith, and you are no threat to me whatsoever. If you wish your entire den to die, then attack me now and I will march my armies through your tunnels as I please.” A wind rose around him, and he let a crackle of lightning flicker through the air. The Selonians growled, and he reached for his lightsaber-
“Murlesson!” Ashara cried. “I know you don’t want to do that.”
“What’ll it be, Lady Murthil?” he demanded. “It’s a waste of my time and your lives to fight me. The Empire thinks you’re filthy violent savages, you going to prove them right?” Things were escalating, his intimidation wasn’t working on these idealists who would rather die than surrender… it was a good thing he’d brought his idealistic counterpart along.
Ashara jumped out in front of him, scolding him. “We wanted to talk to them! Remember?” She turned to the Selonians. “We want to talk. Honest. He’s… used to having to act tough, that’s all. We don’t want to kill anyone. Except Thanaton.”
<Your apprentice speaks for you?> Murthil asked. <You will talk before you fight?>
He let the wind die, though he didn’t let go of his lightsaber. “She’s correct. I have no quarrel with the Selonians. I am fighting Darth Thanaton of the Dark Council, and I wish to pass my army through your territory to the government district where he lairs. Nothing else. I offer you compensation for the presumption.”
<You lie,> she said. <The Empire attempts to subjugate the entire planet. I will not fall for your trick.>
“It’s no trick,” he said. “I have heard how the Selonians never lie, and so I swear by my grandfather’s bones that I do not lie to you. I have no interest in the Empire’s goals, in conquering or ruling. All I want to do is kill Thanaton.”
<And killing us would be too… ‘costly’ for you,> Murthil said, and he wondered if Selonians used sarcasm.
“It would be a waste of my time and resources,” he said. “More importantly, I would be perfectly fine with you being alive and free to fight Thanaton’s troops, should they try to follow me here.”
<What about other Imperials?> Murthil asked. <We do not discriminate between your uniforms, as you do not discriminate between us.>
He shrugged. “Regrettable, I suppose, but as long as you don’t attack me, I really don’t care.” He felt a twinge from Drellik, felt him reassuring himself with the hope that Murlesson was bending the truth, that he was just saying what he had to. For once, he really was telling the truth, and that would upset the lieutenant if he knew.
<And should we refuse, will you kill us all and march your armies through anyway?>
“I certainly could,” he said. “I don’t want to, and I currently have no reason to, but the moment you’re more hindrance than help…”
“Murlesson,” Ashara said through politely gritted teeth. “We’re not committing genocide to get to Thanaton.”
“I hope not,” he said. “Will you hear me out, Lady Murthil?”
The Selonians stared at him for several moments with inscrutable dark eyes, then pulled back out of the light to murmur and whisper to each other. Their language was difficult enough to comprehend when they were shouting at him, and impossible at this distance with the echo of the tunnel around them distorting it.
Murthil returned to the light. <What is your demand?>
He reached out, and Drellik handed him the datapad with his notes. He had everything memorized but for something like this, he just wanted to be sure. “I intend to move in the realm of 3500 soldiers, with accompanying gear and materiel. No vehicles, artillery, or large equipment. I require them to be across Axial Park and under the Government district in ten days. I am aiming to come up in the vicinity of the Museum of Corellian Industry, where Thanaton keeps his headquarters. I also require ongoing use of the tunnels in that area-”
<No,> said Lady Murthil. <We will entertain your demand to pass through our tunnels to meet your enemy, but you are not welcome to incorporate us or our territory into your quarrel.>
There must be sensitive things in that area. Perhaps they kept their government in a similar place to the Corellian government, to stay connected to each other. “No?”
<No.>
“Then you will allow me to move my forces from Labour Valley to the Government district, yes?” He’d fight them later if he had to. Even if they were undoubtedly planning to tell the Republic about his activities, and sought to get back-up against him, the Museum of Industry was well away from Republic lines. The Republic wouldn’t care enough to seriously threaten him. If he could just get their cooperation for this single endeavour, that would be a huge asset.
She didn’t move. <What will you give us?>
His eyebrow twitched in restrained sardonicism. One might say he’d just made a concession by not arguing the point, but he had expected to have to actually pay. “I’m rich in Sith lore and credits.”
<We do not need credits. We cannot be bought with money. You say you don’t fight for the Empire’s goals. Prove it with a gift of weaponry. Five hundred rifles and a dozen infantry turrets.>
“Simple enough,” he said, though it was more than he’d had to give out to the gangs. The fact that any weapons he gave them would probably be used immediately against Imperials all over the city was of no concern to him. “Is that all you wish?”
<No. These are still our tunnels. There will be rules.>
“Name them.”
<Your people will be accompanied by Selonian guides at all times. No one is to create maps of the tunnels, or transmit any signal of any kind. Only ten percent of your soldiers may pass through each day. For security, we must know the identities of all your soldiers. They are not permitted to spend the night underground. When you or your apprentices use the tunnels, you will each be alone and escorted by ten of my women.> Ten Selonians wouldn’t be able to stop him, and they probably wouldn’t be able to stop Ashara or Xalek either. Or Khem. But he guessed it was an attempt to ensure that he wouldn’t betray them with a couple hundred soldiers at his back. <Agree to these, and we will permit you to pass through our territory peacefully. Betray us, and we will destroy all of you within our domain. Our word is stronger than durasteel.>
“So I have been told,” Murlesson said, and bowed. “I accept. I am glad we could come to an accord, Lady Murthil. Drellik, put all that into writing.” Partly so he’d be able to remember all that, he remembered things better if he read them. She could have a signed copy if she wanted but he was including a self-delete virus so that it wouldn’t leave any evidence she could blackmail him with. Also on the personnel data, she didn’t need to pass that on to the Republic. “I will deliver your weapons as soon as possible. Would here be an acceptable delivery point?”
She seemed suspicious still. <You… accept without question? Or threats?>
He shrugged. “I really am not interested in subjugating you. Your terms do not get in the way of my main goal, which is Thanaton alone. If you’re concerned that my immediate acquiescence means I’m planning a double-cross, I’m certainly not telling you about it.”
She glared. <I do not appreciate jokes. But if you are as honest as you claim, it will make you very unusual among your kind.>
“I’m sure. I can’t persuade you to fight Thanaton in concert with me? I can pay more.”
<Dealing with one Sith is bad enough,> Murthil said. <Two is worse.>
“You’re not wrong,” he said dryly. “I will return in a couple days, with weapons and the personnel data you request. Watch for me.”
Murthil nodded curtly, and the Selonians stood motionless. He bowed again – his companions imitated him – and turned to go, followed by their silent stares.
“Drellik, I’ll want you to be my liaison with the Selonians when I can’t be present,” Murlesson said on the way back. “You’re more diplomatic than most of my officers. I’ll assign you a guard, you don’t have to face them down alone.”
“I would be honoured by the opportunity!” Drellik said. “Not a culture I’m overly familiar with, as insular – and regrettably hostile to the Empire – as they are. This will be a great learning experience.”
“I want you to tell me all about it afterwards,” Murlesson said, relaxing a little. No, he shouldn’t be worried for him at all. Drellik had chutzpah, and tact, and knew his limits. If these people were as honourable as they said they were, Drellik would be fine.
“I’d be most pleased to. Did you see the design of her weapon? It was most intriguing. I believe it was handcrafted, they each seemed unique. Perhaps she forged it herself! They must still be influenced by outside cultures, if some of my guesses are correct…”
Murlesson was distracted from his subordinate’s rambling. Ashara seemed to be mulling over his actions, her Force-sense clouded. Again. “What are you annoyed about this time?” he asked her with exasperation. Drellik shut his mouth and dropped back discreetly.
She frowned at him. “You nearly got them killed, riling them up like that! Because I know if it came to a fight, you wouldn’t hold back. You have to be more careful! What were you thinking? Why couldn’t you start out more ‘diplomatic’ yourself?”
“…I admit I miscalculated,” he said after a pause to swallow his pride. “But they only know the Empire as hostile. Behaving too weak would have made them even more suspicious, or so I thought. The only reason she trusted me was because of you – because you showed that you were a reasonable person who could trust me and reason with me. That’s why I brought you, in case I was wrong. I knew you would salvage it.”
She gasped. “I feel manipulated. That’s so rude. I was so excited about meeting them, too.”
“You would rather I lie to you?”
“N-no… I just prefer you don’t act like a jerk when I know you’re not. I think I preferred when you were nice on our first meeting. Even if… even if that was an act itself.”
So she preferred pretty lies. Understandable. “Is… that still bothering you?”
“…No,” she said, but she hesitated.
He didn’t know how to fix whatever was wrong, and was too afraid to ask. “I said what they expected to hear, and let them say what they wanted to say. That’s all anyone wants, is to be heard.”
“True, but that hearing should be backed up with integrity. With… what’s the word… proaction. Otherwise it’s an empty gesture. You don’t treat your cult like that. You genuinely helped them.”
His cult was useful in the long term. Murthil was a short-term concern who would tolerate his presence briefly at best. “I’m not here to help the Selonians. But I will treat them with the honour they wish for.”
“You’re not just telling me what I want to hear, now, are you?”
He gave her a little smile. “Sharp. Which answer would you believe?”
She huffed at him. “I don’t like this game. You’re better than this.”
“Am I?” He took a step closer to her. “Or do you just want me to be?”
She was both aroused and confused, he could tell, but she held it together and stood her ground against him. “I know you well enough to know you already considered double-crossing them and decided it wasn’t worth it. But… I also know that even if you decided on it, you would know it was wrong. It would affect you. Maybe that’s part of why it’s not worth it. I hope it is.”
She really was sharp. “I don’t deal in hope,” was all he said.
She put a hand on his arm. “It takes practice. You should try.”
The Republic fought the Imperials, the Imperials fought the Republic. Every day brought new waves of soldiers, Sith, and Jedi to the planet, and every day another stream of civilians fled elsewhere on the planet – no one was making it offworld right now. But there were still plenty just trying to exist under the warfare, working the factories, manning shops, living life as normally as they could, from what he could see. Right in the middle of an invasion. They almost seemed cheerful about it. Was that a Corellian thing?
Pyron was busy, avoiding Thanaton’s fleets and unloading the Silencer on the Republic when he could. The Republic was not very happy about the Silencer, but so far had not been able to destroy it, though they’d gotten better at dodging it. Thanaton’s 58th fleet, Murlesson knew, was commanded by Lord Kogni, Thanaton’s highest-ranking remaining apprentice. He assumed Kogni was the woman he’d seen on the holo before, but the important thing was that Pyron didn’t get drawn into a pitched battle. The Moff was working with Aristheron’s Commodore Clay on the Kyvernitis, and so far no one on the Dark Council, even Thanaton himself, had raised a fit about the military partnership.
He really wished he could just use the Silencer on the Museum of Corellian Industry, even if it vaporized metric tons of history along with Thanaton, but the city was shielded from orbital bombardment and he didn’t have enough fighter-bombers to get close… if he trusted bombers to get the job done, which he did not.
The days flew by with astonishing rapidity, blending into a blur, as Murlesson rearranged his slim forces on the ground, slipping between Thanaton’s lines, trying for ever-more advantageous positions, promoting the most clever officers who distinguished themselves. Since he couldn’t send all his forces through to their destination with any sort of alacrity, he needed to keep up an illusion of not having sent any forces anywhere unexpected at all. He had been considering trying to force more troops through against Murthil’s wishes, wondering if the kaggath’s rules covered allowing Aristheron to ally with him in coercing her – but then the Selonians would be conquered, and he would have helped, and Ashara would never talk to him again.
He was trying. For her. Even while running a damn war. The ghosts would call him crazy.
In the meantime, Thanaton was hunting for him, and his forces mercilessly crushed any of Murlesson’s patrols they discovered. It must have been like playing whack-a-Jawa, but Murlesson only had so many soldiers at his disposal; Thanaton could win by attrition if this kept up. Murlesson was a Sith Lord, yet he couldn’t reorder the galaxy at his command yet. He needed more power. He needed to kill Thanaton, and not just to save his own life.
It was raining and he had a headache, radiating prickliness into the Force all day. For several days, perhaps. His officers treated him carefully, sensing his irritation even through their Force-deafness, but Ashara had no such qualms. “You need a break,” she said that afternoon as he stared into his monitors intently, brain churning.
Was this more nagging? “I agree, on a condition,” he said.
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s going to be a working break. I need more intel on the current efforts to contain the creatures in the park.” The city zoo was giving the Empire problems; it was so open and sprawling that anyone travelling aboveground had to get IDed or shot. The closer he came to the city centre and the government district, the worse the fighting became. It didn’t help matters that many of the beasts in the zoo were exotic, highly dangerous specimens from deathworlds. Neither side liked to get close to them. Why this was set up in the capital of a coreworld planet, unless it really was supposed to be a secret invasion defence, was beyond him. Even if he was going under it, he still needed to be aware of things in case there was a major breakthrough from one side or another and the front lines got wildly redrawn while he was underneath them.
“And how are you gonna get that while taking a break?”
“Researchers and soldiers go to bars, too.”
“What if Thanaton’s guys are there?” Good, he thought; he’d taught her to be properly paranoid.
“We’ll be in civilian clothing, and I’ll protect us from scrutiny. Easy enough. …Look, this is your idea.”
“It’s your idea to go try and eavesdrop on random people,” she retorted, but that was still his plan.
The bar was crowded and noisy, crammed with off-duty soldiers and stressed-out civilians. Murlesson put an arm around Ashara as they moved through, looking for a place to sit, just so they didn’t get separated. Two stools at the bar vacated just before they got there, and he nabbed them. She wasn’t dressed in quite as provocative an outfit as the last time – the first time – they’d gone out together, but she was still gorgeous out of her robes, in a pale blue frilly tunic patterned with flowers, and long khaki shorts.
Ashara didn’t call him out on his fake ID, although she definitely could have. It was strange how self-conscious it made him to know that she knew his ‘real’ age. He shook away the distraction and concentrated on gauging the people around him, trying to figure out if anyone present was connected to Thanaton, and what they were talking about, if there were any groups discussing feral acklays.
“You all right?” Ashara said into his ear after a few minutes. “I know this is noisier than you like it.”
“It’s making it difficult to pick up gossip, certainly,” he said back.
“Don’t you want to actually, you know, take this time to de-stress?”
“No,” although she was awfully distracting, just sitting there being lovely. The tunic had openings at the shoulder, showing more of her skin. He drank some more.
She leaned into him from her stool, and he automatically put out an arm to steady her… and keep her leaning against him. “Are you sure?”
He sighed uncomfortably. “I’ve… been thinking.”
“When have you not?” She sat up, letting him let go of her.
He turned to lean back against the bar and stare darkly into the crowd. “You should go back to Nar Shaddaa. Or wherever you want.”
He felt her glare bore into him. “Why?”
“I’d be happier knowing that you’re safe. …As safe as you’re going to get, being who you are. Safer than with me.”
“What about you?” she demanded, poking him in the arm, uncomfortably close to where he’d been shot and stabbed a few weeks ago, and it made him squirm though it was long-healed. “What about your safety?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ll still have Xalek. And Khem.”
She stared at him for several minutes. He glanced at her, uncomfortable, and her gaze didn’t change. “I don’t think that’s your entire reason.”
That earned her a raised eyebrow. “You don’t think I could possibly want you, the only person I care about in the entire galaxy, to not die in this conflict that doesn’t really concern you?”
“Sure, but…” She huffed and drained her glass. “Come on.”
“Where to?”
“Somewhere we can actually talk. You’re not getting any info here anyway.”
She was right, and he followed her as she captured his hand in hers and led him firmly back out into the street. This was worse for him; even with his senses on alert, there were enough people around that someone could follow them and he might miss it. At least it had stopped raining, though there were still puddles about. “Did you have somewhere specific in mind? I don’t like this.”
“The park,” she said. “There’s a mini-park near here, should be empty enough your completely-justifiable paranoia should relax for a minute.”
He made a face, but she was right. The little park was much more sparsely populated, not too bright, not too dark… People wouldn’t get close enough to hear their conversation, and he’d be able to keep track of everything around them. “All right. What’s your objection?”
“First of all, I don’t want to leave,” Ashara said. “I really like seeing you in charge of stuff. I think a lot about where you told me you came from, and it makes me so proud to see how far you’ve come, you know? You’re all confident and decisive these days, and it’s hot.”
“Don’t inflate my ego too much,” he grumbled. “What else?”
“Don’t think I haven’t sensed your conflict,” she said. “I think you’ve realized that, while you’re doing what you have to do, people are getting killed from it, people who didn’t have to die. You only want to kill Thanaton, right? His power base is kind of irrelevant, isn’t it?”
“True, but just trying to go off and assassinate him like last time would be suicidal. I learned from my mistakes.”
“That’s not what I’m getting at,” she said. “I can feel that you feel guilty about all the lives you’re spending needlessly, the suffering that you’re causing. And then I can feel you tell yourself not to worry about it, which is probably definitely not healthy, though yeah I guess you can’t let yourself get overwhelmed right now – I’m rambling-”
“You are.”
“-anyway I think part of it is that you’re worried about my reaction, I don’t think I’m flattering myself by saying that, and it’s sweet that you don’t want me to be upset… Although now that I think about it, isn’t it weird that you’re trying not to make your girlfriend upset while waging war? Because you’re waging war? I mean most boyfriends don’t have that to think of.”
“I suppose not.”
“Anyway anyway, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to!” she said, poking him in the ribs and making him flinch. “Sure, if you send me away, I’ll be safer, probably, maybe… Knowing me, I’m not completely sure about that… But also you won’t have the distraction about feeling guilty about what I think. You’ll feel less guilty, at least. And maybe that would mean it would be less distracting for you. But I’m not going to do that.”
“Damn your perceptiveness,” he said, just a little irritated that she was so right.
“Deal with it!” She stuck her tongue out at him, and that still charmed him. “First of all, you need warmth and love and emotional support as you do this, otherwise what’s the point? You can’t store up that kind of thing, put it away and only enjoy it ‘after everything’s over’. You’ll go crazy first.”
“I already am crazy…”
“Crazier, then. And secondly, if my presence makes you think twice about doing something really destructive that you don’t have to, then that’s a good thing too. Or like with the Selonians when I got them to calm down a little. Maybe you can’t act with as much compassion as I’d like right now, but you’ll do it as much as you can, because you love me and it’s important to me.”
They walked in silence for a bit. She’d said her bit and he mulled over it.
“I hate how right you are,” he said. “I still don’t want you here, yes, for both those reasons – your safety and your peace of mind.”
“I wouldn’t get any more peace of mind away from you,” she interrupted him. “Don’t forget that.”
“All right. But you have to understand I can’t win this by myself, or just by moving my forces around. They have to fight, and they will die. Sometimes in great numbers.”
“I understand. And I’m glad you feel bad about it. It means that spark in your heart is alive and well.”
“Frak the spark,” he growled. “Getting in my way.”
She shook her head. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not being honest with yourself right now.”
He sighed. “I don’t know how to do that right now. But fine. I won’t ask you to leave. That’s your choice.” He took her hand carefully as they walked. “And… I am glad you choose to be with me.”
She beamed at him and laid her head on his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s going to be all right. Just do your best.”
The night might have started looking up then, except his commlink was going off. “Kriffing… What is it?”
“Yo, uh, Kallig?” It took him a minute – and checking the frequency – to place the voice. It was Kitt Lyth, the young Nautolan leader of the Silverfist gang. “You there? We got a problem.”
“I’m listening,” he said. “What’s the problem?”
“Uh, we blew up the cargo vehicles you asked us to, but we got busted by a bunch of Pubs and a couple Jedi. They’re taking us to lock-up… Any way you can get us out?”
Murlesson put his face in his other hand and took a deep breath. It was simultaneously hilarious and frustrating. “Why would the Jedi arrest you for blowing up Imperial property?”
“I gotta go, man, they’re gonna take my commlink away if I don’t be quiet… I’m not even supposed to still have it. We’re going to the station on Ularen Street, all right?”
“I will be there soon,” Murlesson said, and hung up. The Jedi probably just didn’t like acts of terrorism in general, even against the Empire. Strait-laced freaks.
He turned to Ashara. “I can’t leave them hanging to be suspicious. I don’t need the Republic onto me. You’d be the best one to help with this, since Revel isn’t here.”
“Sure, what are we doing?”
He felt a brief rush of gratitude that she was willing to jump right in, no questions asked. “I don’t think they’ll leave the Jedi with them. That would be a waste. Once they’ve cleared off, I want you to pretend to be a Republic citizen – a Jedi, if you have to – and keep the guards’ attention while I break in the back.”
“I think I can do that,” she said. “Though you do remember I’m not as good an actor as you, right?”
“Then don’t act,” he told her. “Just be yourself. Only, yourself is… well, how about you’re concerned about the creatures that have broken free, and are wondering what they’re doing about it?”
She swatted him and he grinned. “You’re not letting that go, are you? Maybe I can do that. I think I can do a better cover story, though, especially if I’m pretending to be an actual Jedi.”
“I’ll let you do it, then. Meet you at the east corner of the park?”
“Just bloop me with your mind when you’re done,” she said with a smile, and walked away quickly.
He ran in a slightly different direction, east instead of north-east, intending to get around the back of the CorSec station. The streets here were a bit narrower than elsewhere – not the nicest corner of Axial Park – and it was nicely-for-him not well populated right now. Most people were in the better-lit areas, trying to party.
There was a presence about, that suggested ‘Force-user’… but he didn’t think it was the Jedi. He pushed out a subtle probe, but whoever it was had shadowy defences like his own, and he couldn’t pin them down. He would have to be careful.
He loped down a silent road, its surface still shiny with earlier rain, then made a right turn into an alley- and paused. The Force-user was right ahead of him…
And Thanaton stepped out, in full armour as usual. It was his presence he’d been sensing, and he nearly had a heart attack as adrenaline blasted his system in furious near-panic. Silently, he called to Ashara, warning her to stay away – and that she’d have to do the mission on her own. Distantly, he sensed her answer, her confusion, her determination. She’d get it done… and she’d be safe.
The two Sith stared at each other from across the alley, motionless, tense. Murlesson’s hearts were thundering in his ears. “So,” Thanaton said. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’m not expecting you to drop dead from boredom,” Murlesson shot back. “What brings you down here?”
“That’s for me to know and you to find out… in an unpleasant fashion, preferably,” Thanaton said. “And you?”
He was stalling. Murlesson began to slide forward, hands flexing. “The usual. Skulking, prowling, lurking.” He could end this. He could end this right now.
“But you didn’t expect to see me,” Thanaton said, moving sideways warily, matching him. “I suppose you thought I’d hide in my stronghold all day and only send my apprentices to deal with you, like Kogni and poor Skar.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you,” Murlesson said. “But I’ve been told that we’re a lot alike… Teneb Kel.”
Thanaton’s gaze sharpened to laser-point. “You’ve been doing some research, I see. But a forgotten name will not help you to win.”
“It was rather shocking to find,” Murlesson said. “You were so active in your youth. Then you became Thanaton and stopped doing anything interesting. What happened? You’ve stagnated.”
Thanaton’s thin lips curled in a slight smirk. “I finally had the freedom to do research instead of stabbing people my then-masters told me to. If we’re so alike, can’t you relate?”
Frak, he had a point.
“Since we’re so alike,” he countered, “what does that make you to me? I’ve gotten at least two mother figures killed. It’s about time I added a father figure to the list!” He drew his lightsaber from inside his jacket and began to walk forward, crossing the distance between them without hurry.
Thanaton choked momentarily in indignation. “How infantile. No child of mine would stoop to such ridiculous taunts.” He drew his own lightsaber, but did not move. “Look at you, so proud and unbowing… or is that your obedience, beaten into you by your rightful masters?”
Murlesson bared fangs. Yes, his posture was the product of unpleasant training, but no longer. “I have no rightful masters. Not Netokos, not Zash, not you. I bow to no one.”
“I wonder if you’d carry that bravado all the way even to the Emperor… or if you, too, would act the beaten slave that you are before him.”
For answer, Murlesson blurred himself into the darkness, throwing his lightsaber forwards to distract Thanaton, and following it up with a bolt of lightning that exploded a dumpster behind where Thanaton had been standing. For an older man, he was fast, and his Force-senses were sharp, and Murlesson called his lightsaber back to his hand in time to parry Thanaton’s strike as he came down on Murlesson like a hawkbat. His eyes were glittering with malevolence, true hatred peeking out as his veneer of haughty sophistication cracked. Hatred, and… jealousy, and fear?
Murlesson smirked through his snarl, his breath scorching his lungs as venom raced through his veins. “I thought you were supposed to be scary,” he hissed. “I’m hardly breaking a sweat.” Both lightsabers hummed hungrily, Murlesson’s double blade and Thanaton’s single blade. He pressed relentlessly; he was stronger than when he’d faced him before, and neither of the previous times had it come to lightsaber combat. But Thanaton still had greater finesse, batting away his attacks easily.
A crate came flying towards him and he reflexively sliced it in half; felt Thanaton’s saber scorch his hair, his ear, narrowly missing his circlet. “If, somehow, you managed to beat me,” Thanaton mused thoughtfully, “how long would it be before some young upstart claws their way from nothing to topple you from your throne the way you scrabble at mine?”
“Looking forward to finding out,” Murlesson said, blocking, locking sabers for a moment, trying to push him back physically. Thanaton allowed the lock for a moment, then slid through it and swiped at him, making him leap back.
“You really do have a witty retort for everything, don’t you? It’s quite tiring, not half as clever as you think it is.” Thanaton flung another crate towards him and he knocked it aside. “The difference between us, boy, is that I always believed in the Sith. It is our right to rule, and the place of all others to be ruled. You, what do you believe in? Nothing.”
“That’s right,” Murlesson grated out. “Nothing, and no one. How many times did they make you scream, Teneb Kel? How much of yourself did you lose, before you were carried off by such a kind master who let you read his books?”
“If you’re trying to make me feel sorry for you, it won’t work,” Thanaton said. “There will always be slaves, and slaves must know their place, boy.”
Before Murlesson could come up with another witty or furious retort, there was a chorus of clicks as safeties came off a squad’s worth of blaster rifles, and Murlesson had just time to jump back behind a wall as the Force screamed at him before the alley was filled with blasterfire.
He couldn’t take on Thanaton and a squad at the same time, not alone. Swearing as the enemy soldiers advanced, tracking him, he jumped to a fire escape, and another one, nearly biting his tongue as he landed with a little stumble on the higher level.
But Thanaton was pulling back, melting through his firing line and disappearing around the corner of the building. Murlesson jumped to the roof to track him, but there was a speeder and Thanaton was getting in. Rather hastily, too. Murlesson tried doing a blast of lightning, but Thanaton was still alert, and dissipated it before it struck the speeder.
“You better run!” he screamed out at him as the speeder drove off, and fierce elation rushed through him. Thanaton was afraid of him. He really was stronger. He could beat him and not even by rigging the fight.
Which meant that Thanaton would be doing his best to keep this fight uneven in his own favour, not to assure overwhelming victory, but just to survive.