Disclaimer: I don't own 'em; I just enjoy messing with their reality. Thank you Obsidian and Lucasarts for creating them.
Note: This is my first submission to this site. By now, returning readers have probably figured out that I make random changes/edits to old chapters. There's no method to my madness, but I'll do my best to inform you all when, where, and if a new scene pops up. Reviews are welcome, and I'm open to all criticism. Just be aware HK-47 owes me a favor...
Chapter 1: First Knight of the Third Order
The sooner we leave this miserable pit, the better, thought Silas Carver as he wove through Nar Shaddaa's Refugee Sector. Following close behind him were two of his shipmates, Kreia, an aging outcast Jedi who had recently taken on the role of his mentor, and Atton Rand, a dark-haired pilot that Silas had thus far sprung from a force cage on two separate occasions. Both of them joined him soon after he woke up shipwrecked in a recently abandoned mining facility full of homicidal droids. Kreia and Atton didn't exactly get along so well (Kreia always referred to Atton as "fool," and Atton always responded with "old hag" or "witch."), but they tolerated the other's presence more of less as a favor for Silas. But, Silas could sense there was something…different…about Atton; for a non-Jedi, his thoughts were well hidden, and there was a…a darkness, a hatred…buried deep within him. It seemed to grow when he was around Kreia, making it easier for Silas to sense. From the moment he first detected Atton's darkness, Silas came to view him as a puzzle, a puzzle he was going to enjoy solving.
The lost souls of the Refugee Sector hailed Silas as a hero and savior for solving their troubles with the local Exchange boss and the Serrocco gang, at least until they saw him in person. Face tattooed with symbols of the Sith and dressed in the flowing black robes of a Dark Jedi Master, the newly self-anointed Darth Malvolis instilled only fear and respect in those he passed. Only Hussef, the apparent leader of the refugees, dared to look him in his yellow-stained eyes, let alone talk to him.
"Thank you for your help, stranger," the old man said. "As promised, here's the lightsaber." Hussef handed Silas the double-bladed saber. Carver scrutinized the weapon in his hand. "I can assure you it works."
Carver thumbed the saber, and a pair of red beams lanced out. Interesting.
"How was it that you came by this blade?" asked Kreia with restrained surprise.
"Bought it from a merchant that came through here a few years ago," Hussef answered. "Didn't think to ask about how he got it, though."
"Probably picked it off a corpse," replied Atton, "or got it from someone who did. With all the Jedi gone, lightsabers are starting to show up in markets all over the galaxy."
"Its origins are not important," stated Silas, clipping the blade to his belt, "and it is time for us to leave."
"I hope you won't have to use it, stranger," said Hussef.
"Do not worry; I will not be needing it," Carver said with dark grin and he turned to leave. In truth, he didn't need the saber; he already had two of his own. But the only ones who knew that were the people he traveled with.
During his trip to Dantooine, Silas learned the importance of discretion when it came to owning a lightsaber. Shortly after completing his blade, he had Bao-Dur, their Iridonian tech, build a cradle for it that would fit around his forearm. Silas was well pleased when the tech was finished; the cradle allowed him to hide the saber under his robe (which he stole from Atris after she refused to return his old double blade) and made him appear unarmed. Despite the black robe, the lack of a visible lightsaber made people more willing to answer him when he spoke. The cradle also had a second function: activating two pressure switches between his fingers fired a small catapult that shot the saber into his waiting hand. Any idiot dumb enough to point a blaster at him wouldn't live long enough to realize he was about to die. Silas even managed to surprise Jedi Master Vrook. During their duel, Silas kept his saber hidden and relied on his Force abilities to attack Vrook and keep him at a distance; the old Jedi turned out to be surprisingly resilient against his lightning strikes. Once Vrook was confident Carver was worn out from his attacks, he lunged forward ready to swing his saber down on his opponent. The charge was abruptly stopped when Vrook felt the burn of a red lightsaber blade through his chest. With the death of the Jedi Master, Silas earned a second saber and the right to bestow upon himself the title of Darth Malvolis. The new saber soon matched its twin in color and purpose; immediately after, Malvolis requisitioned a cradle built for it as well.
Now that he was on Nar Shaddaa, Malvolis' situation was slightly different. He was here to terminate the Exchange Syndicate's bounty on his head or terminate the one who put the bounty on his head. Either way, he needed to attract attention, and not even that half-blind Sullustian mechanic could miss the oversized hilt dangling from his belt. Perfect. As they headed out of the slums, a gentle Force breeze carrying anxiety and doubt made the hair on the back of Silas' neck stand up; they were being followed.
Two Twi'leks nervously watched as the three offworlders left Hussef's office. The face of one of the trio looked familiar, and if they were right, the other two were in danger. They decided to go after them and find some way to warn the endangered ones.
"Are you sure that's him?" asked the first Twi'lek.
"I'm positive," replied the second. "He's changed his appearance, but I'd still recognize him in a second."
"Do you think he recognized us?"
"No, I don't think so. But I do think we need to warn the others about their friend."
"Are you sure? You see that other guy? Does he look like he needs to be warned?"
"He is dangerous," insisted the second Twi'lek. "He could kill both of them. We have to say something."
"I don't know if that's such a good id…hey come back!"
"Hey you!" came a voice from behind them.
Not the smartest way to get my attention, though Silas, turning back to see two Twi'leks running up to him. He gave them a cold stare and gently probed their minds, testing their mental defenses. "What do you want?"
"We have information for you," said one of them. "Something we think you should know."
Silas folded his arms and smiled. "Really?"
"Yes," the alien continued. "It is important."
"And pricey, I'll bet," muttered Atton.
"Possibly," Silas replied. "About what?" he yelled at the Twi'leks, "The Exchange?"
"Yeah, the Exchange," said the second Twi'lek. "We can give you some inside information. But it's for your ears only."
Atton scoffed. "Nothing suspicious about that is there?"
Silas nodded in agreement. "Still, I am curious as to why they are going through so much trouble."
"I suggest you keep your meeting brief," said Kreia, "We have probably spent too much time here."
Silas gave his companions a backwards glance. "Wait for me outside." He then started towards the two aliens. "You two are either very bold or very foolish to assume that I have time to spare for a couple of vagrants," he told them.
"I can assure you this will be worth your time, sir," the second Twi'lek replied.
"Not only that," added the other alien, "but our information is also worth 25 credits."
Silas chuckled at the remark. "25 credits. How did I know you would work credits into this?"
The second Twi'lek turned to his friend and whispered. "You didn't say anything about asking him for credits."
"Why not?" asked the first. "It's a fair trade."
"Enough of this," Silas interrupted. The two aliens turned back towards the man. "You two know nothing of the Exchange. If this is some sort of trap, you will be alive just long enough to regret your mistake."
"This is no trap, I assure you!" pleaded the second. "It's true, we don't have Exchange information, but we do have information about you male companion."
"Who? Atton?" asked Silas.
"If that is the name he goes by now, then yes; him," answered the second.
Carver's eyes narrowed. "What about him?"
"Not so fast," interjected the first. "First, you give us our credits."
"I have a better idea," said Carver, darkly. "How about I keep my credits and simply take the information by force." Before the aliens could react, Malvolis' hands shot out and held their heads in vice grips. Concentrating, he searched the Twi'leks' minds for whatever knowledge they possessed. After a few moments, his eyes snapped open, and he smiled; he found their secret. As he continued reading their minds, however, his smile disappeared; he didn't like what he discovered. They were right, Malvolis thought, this is worth 25 credits. It is unfortunate they do not know how to play by the rules. He severed his connections, slammed their heads together, and threw the unconscious bodies to the floor. "No one demands anything from Darth Malvolis," he said, turning away. They should consider themselves lucky I did not kill them. They just put me in a foul mood. Now that he had dealt with one irritation, he had another, potentially greater one that needed to be remedied immediately. No, not immediately; he needed to center himself first, and he couldn't do that with the noise of Nar Shaddaa echoing in his head.
"Where is Kreia?" asked Silas as he approached.
"She decided not to wait up," Atton answered, "so she left. Where to next?"
"Back to the ship," Malvolis growled as he strode past.
"What? Why? What'd those guys want?" Atton pried, trying to keep up with Silas' rapid pace.
"Credits; what else?"
"Okay. What about the Exchange?"
"They knew nothing."
"Hate to say I told you so, but…"
"Then don't!"
"Okay, okay, fine; no need to start shooting off lightning or anything."
Silas shot him a backwards glare as they approached the landing pad. The bodies of former Red Eclipse slavers still littered the path back to the ship. "I hope the others cleaned out the Hawk like I told them to."
"If they didn't," added Atton, "there's gonna be one hell of a smell." When the Ebon Hawk came into view, Atton smiled. "Well, looks like they can follow orders after all." Near the loading ramp was a large mound of mangled bodies and limbs.
"I will need to have a little talk with Toydarian before we leave," said Carver, sending the pile of flesh over the ramp with a casual Force push.
Once onboard, Silas made a beeline to Kreia's "meditation chamber," the port crew quarters, ignoring everyone who spoke to him.
"What's with the General," asked Bao-Dur.
"I don't know," answered Atton with a shrug. "He roughed up a couple of refugees who claimed to know something about the Exchange. They didn't, and he wasn't very happy about it. Too bad; I thought our Serrocco killing spree would have kept him in a good mood for the next few days."
"Aren't you a little worried about that?"
"Well, I know I won't be volunteering to leave the ship with him for awhile."
"No, I mean the fact that enjoyed murdering all those people."
The thought had briefly crossed Atton's mind after the carnage was over, but as long as Silas was happy, he reminded himself, their lives would be easier. "Hey, the man's gotta get his jollies somehow. Besides, it was for a good cause." Yep, just like the guy who was going to have them arrested on Citadel Station, the Exchange secretary who set them up, the ungrateful Dantooine salvager who wouldn't pay for saving his life, and the Jedi who had tried to kill them. They all deserved what that got, or so Silas would keep telling him. And after Silas killed the old Jedi, Atton decided their leader had to know what he was doing.
"Irritated declaration: Meatbag!"
Aw, Hell, thought Atton. The droid. The recently repaired HK droid came marching into the room, a Mandalorian heavy pistol in one hand, a Zabrak heavy pistol in the other. Atton hated that droid, all droids in fact, but this one especially. It called everyone on the ship, except Silas, a meatbag. It pissed him off.
"Veiled threat: You will inform me of what have you done to upset the master, now." the droid demanded with a slight electronic hiss.
"I didn't do anything," countered Atton.
"Sarcasm: Of course you didn't. After all, it is in the master's nature to growl the names of crew members at various intervals."
"What?" asked Atton.
"Explanation: Before he dismissed me from the aging female meatbag's room, I recorded the utterance of your name five times. The tone that they were using suggests he will have you terminated in short order. Anticipatory: I hope he allows me to carry out your evisceration."
Caught between confusion and disgust, Atton's face started twisting. "What exactly did he say?"
"Bemused Apology: I am sorry, but I cannot reveal any information regarding missions or potential targets to those who do not have proper authorization. Cautionary: Needless to say, if I were in your meatbag shoes, I would monitor my behavior very carefully around the master. He is quite volatile at the moment. Statement: I hope to return to the master shortly. I wish to record as much data on him as possible while he is his current state for future recollection and enjoyment." The droid turned and left.
"That is one sick droid," commented Atton.
"No argument here," said Bao-Dur, "but if he's right, you may be in big trouble with the General."
"But, I didn't do anything," Atton reiterated, "I swear." He paused, considering his situation. "Look, I'm gonna make myself scarce for a while, just to be on the safe side. Do me favor, when Sy calms down, buzz me."
As Atton headed down the ramp and into the fading evening light, the Iridonian smiled and waved. "See you in a week."
Despite the fact that the sun was now peeking over the metal spires of the urban moon, Atton's fatigue was becoming increasingly difficult to shake off. Guess it's about time for me to be getting back. That was the problem with planet hopping: adjusting to the time change. It wasn't as if Atton had never been awake for 40 standard hours at a time, he just felt like he was pulling these long-hour days more often since he joined up with Silas. Like every major urban center, activity on Nar Shaddaa didn't cease when the sun went down, just became a little less legal. The opposite was true when the sun came back up. Even with heavy eyelids, Atton noticed a decrease in the ratio of trench coats to suits. Still, it would be dangerous to fall asleep in a cantina, so Atton decided to make his way back to the Hawk and hope Silas was either asleep or too tired to drill him for the next few hours.
As he neared the ship, his gaze drifted to the cockpit windows. Oh shit, Atton thought. Fighting against the glare of the sun and the dark interior of the cabin, he could just make out the shape of a black-hooded figure seated in the pilot's chair. Was he waiting for me? But as he continued his approach, he noticed Silas' head wasn't turning to follow him. He's either sleeping or meditating. Part of him, a large part of him, hoped it was the former.
Before stepping fully into the ship, Atton made sure no one was around to see him. This is stupid. Why am I sneaking around? I live on this ship; I'm the damn pilot! I'm not breaking in. Nevertheless, he found himself quietly making his way to the starboard crew quarters. To his surprised relief, they were empty; Bao-Dur and Visas were gone. "Great," he mumbled, stretching. "Looks like I'll be able to get a few hours of peaceful…"
"Atton!" called a female voice
"Or not," he corrected himself. Wheeling around, he came face-to-face with the Handmaiden. If Atton had to describe the Handmaiden in one word, it would have to be gorgeous. Short white hair, deep blue eyes, exquisite figure; she had everything going for her. Atton would have spent every moment with her that he could if not for two slight problems: 1. She already had feelings for Silas. And 2…
"Atton, where have you been?"
…she pissed him off. "Out," he answered, turning back towards the bunks.
"Why did you leave the ship?"
Atton's irritation flared. Sometimes, most times, she was irksome. "Because I wanted to, okay? I don't need anyone's permission to do what I want to."
"You know how dangerous our mission is, Atton. It is foolish for you to take such unnecessary risks."
Atton wheeled around and locked eyes with the Handmaiden. "Hey, don't lecture me about our 'mission' alright? I met Silas before there even was a mission. I've already gotten a look at the guy we're up against. Have you ever seen a Sith Lord? I mean other than your mistress during her 'monthly mood swings'."
The Handmaiden's tone became even icier. "How dare you! You will not speak of Atris in such a manner. Apologize!"
Atton folded his arms and leaned against the bunk rack. "Why should I?"
She started advancing on him. "Apologize or I will break your arm in three places!"
"Handmaiden! Enough!" Atton glanced over the woman's shoulder to see Silas Carver standing in the doorway, his arms crossed and amber eyes staring both of them down.
She spun around to address the black-robed Jedi. "He has insulted my mistress. I will not allow it!"
"Your loyalty to her is admirable," Silas told her in a soothing tone, enveloping her hand between his. "I look forward to the day when you make such threats to those who insult me."
Smooth, thought Atton, a grin tugging at his mouth.
"However," continued Silas, his voice returning to normal, "Now is not the time for these squabbles. We have too many enemies gunning for us on this moon to start fighting amongst ourselves. Handmaiden, I expect you to show more discipline in the future. Save your rage for our enemies and our sparring matches."
Atton could see that she was a little irked at being scolded. "Very well," she replied, breaking away from Silas' gaze.
"And Atton," said Silas, locking eyes with the Scoundrel, "In the future, I expect you to show better judgment as well. I cannot have my pilot running off on a whim." Atton rolled his eyes at the comment. "I also suggest you improve that attitude of yours. I may not be around to call her off next time."
"Whatever," Atton grunted. Silas' eyes visibly narrowed. "Alright, alright. I'll play nice from now on, okay?"
"See that you do," replied Silas as he led the Handmaiden out of the room.
"Great," muttered Atton, sliding into his bunk. Well, at least it looks like he's over whatever it was that set him off last night. I told them I didn't do anything.
"I do not understand you let him get away with saying such things," stated the Handmaiden as they entered the cargo hold. "He has no respect."
A devious smile crept across his face as Malvolis drank in the aroma of her irritation. Sensations and emotions carried through the Force were often processed by the senses of touch, smell, or taste. Each emotion had its own unique concoction of stimuli which varied only slightly between individuals. The Handmaiden's frustration reminded him of a red wine that was just beginning to sour. "There is a time and place to deal with Atton," he assured her gently. "It would be best if you did not try and provoke him in the meantime."
"He cannot be allowed to…"
"I understand your concerns, but you must trust my judgment. Atton will come around, in time. Now, continue with your training, I have to leave."
"Where are you going?"
"To meet with Kreia. Our situation has altered."
"Altered? How?"
Silas chuckled. "We may be able to accelerate our plans to find the Jedi Master hiding here. But to be sure, I must confer with Kreia."
"All right, but be careful; I do not trust her," said the Handmaiden.
Silas gave her a wide smile as he backed out of the room. "Handmaiden, I am beginning to wonder if there is anyone on this ship aside from me that you do trust."
Walking into the port crew quarters, Silas found Kreia in the exact spot he had left her in over twelve hours ago and in the same meditative trance.
"So, the fool has returned?" Kreia asked without looking up.
"Yes," Silas answered. "A little sooner than I expected though. Apparently my call was more powerful than I anticipated."
"Or perhaps he is more susceptible to persuasion than he believes," she replied.
"That is a useful possibility," said Carver, looking past Kreia for a moment. "But whatever the reason, my suspicions have been confirmed. I knew there was some other reason he has remained with us."
"Indeed. The Force binds all things, even the lives of people who would normally never think to associate."
"But how, I wonder? And why has he denied himself?"
"Those reasons are his own. Atton has chosen to walk his own path."
Then it is time I made him walk mine, Malvolis thought. "Kreia, I would ask for your assistance again."
Her eyes opened at his request. "For what purpose?"
"Another lesson; I was able to pull the Twi'leks' thoughts from their heads, but they were weak-minded. I need to be able to pull information from a stronger mind, one that knows how to set up more powerful mental barriers."
"And you think I possess such a technique?"
"If you cannot teach me this, then your usefulness to me has ended."
Kreia looked up at him and smiled. "Very well; sit with me and attempt to enter my mind."
Malvolis sat down facing his mentor, closed his eyes, and reached out through the Force. Sensing contact with her consciousness, he recalled his previous lesson.
"There are two ways to perform this technique," Kreia had told him. "The most frequently used involves slipping through a mind's defenses without being detected, thus denying your target time to throw up barriers. This stealth technique is effective against the common individual, who is usually not trained to resist such intrusions. However, you will find it difficult to slip past the barriers of those in tune with the Force. There are known techniques that can break through a Jedi's mental defenses, but most are considered too dangerous to be practical. Thus, their teachings are revealed only to a select few; usually the most trusted and disciplined of the Consular apprentices. As with most Force techniques, distractions can prove useful; a divided attention or dropped guard weakens the overall strength of mental barriers. Also, coming in direct contact with your target allows you to better focus your efforts."
As he slipped by Kreia's first barrier, he ran smack into her second wall and was instantly repulsed, breaking his focus.
"When you are dealing with strong minds, a gentle touch is insufficient," Kreia informed him. "Do not be afraid to use the Force to smash through their mental barriers. Remember, against a Jedi, this is a battle of wills; there is no reason for you to hold back. You may cause some discomfort to the person whose mind you are invading, but that isn't your concern. Plus, the pain can serve as a distraction, allowing you to probe deeper. Now, try again."
-5 hours later-
"Atton, wake up," said Silas, looking down at the sleeping form. "Atton? Atton! You have slept long enough. Wake up." Atton flinched, but didn't open his eyes. "Rand! Get..up..now!"
"Mmm..g'away, I'm busy right now," Atton mumbled, turning over.
That was a bad mistake, Rand, thought Carver, turning towards the door.
Who uses magnet clips for relay connectors? wondered Bao-Dur as he continued re-wiring the Hawk's electrical systems. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Silas marching out of the crew quarters looking more perturbed than usual. Barely a minute later, Silas returned wearing a pair of sonic nullifiers and gently tossing a small silver sphere in the air. Note to self: check crew quarters for damage later.
"Last chance, Rand," stated Carver with a half-smile, "Wake up." No response. "Very well. I gave you fair warning." He raised the sonic grenade in front of him and let it fall from his hand.
The scream of the sonic grenade echoed throughout the cargo hold, followed soon by the scream of a different kind.
"Ahhh! What the..(thump)..Agh..Dammit!"
"Hm. Atton's up," said Bao-Dur. He shook his head. "One day, he's going to learn."
Atton continued massaging his new concussion as he looked up at Silas, who was removing the nullifiers. "What the hell was that for?"
"You have five minutes to get dressed and meet me in the cockpit," Carver told him, his smile gone.
"You mean you woke me up just so you could…"
"Five minutes," Carver repeated, holding his hand up for emphasis, then left.
Is it too much for me to ask for a little respect? thought Atton as he trudged through the ship. Seems like I'm always catching flak from someone. The droids, the ice queen, the old hag, and now Silas; what gives? Some days I don't know why I bother sticking around. I got nothing keeping me here except that old hag's blackmail. So what if he found out? After he killed that Jedi, he doesn't have any right to judge me. He scoffed. Yeah, like that's ever stopped him. Every cell in Atton's body was telling him to jump ship now and just forget the past few months, but he knew couldn't. Atton wasn't sure if it was Kreia or Silas who was keeping him from leaving, or if it was just himself. But he was sure of one thing: he was going to be here for a while.
"Close the door, Atton." Silas' voice broke Atton's train of thought. He was leaning against the back of the pilot's chair with his arms folded in front of him. Nothing about Carver's stance gave Atton a sense that the man before him was his trusted comrade.
"What?" asked Atton.
"Close the door."
"Why?"
"No external distractions," Carver said, pushing off the chair.
A knot formed in Atton's gut as he fought back the instinct to run. "You got something you want to tell me?"
With a flick of two fingers, Carver sealed and locked the cockpit door. "More like something you want to tell me."
"No, not really."
"Are you sure about that?"
"Look, if I had something to say, I would, okay? So if you don't mind," Atton said gesturing to the door.
"Remember those two Twi'leks from the Refugee Sector?"
"The ones that tried to hit you up for credits?"
Carver nodded. "As it turned out they did have some interesting information. They claimed to have been former acquaintances of yours."
"Sure they did," responded Atton. "Did they say I owed them credits? Did they want you to pay my debt?"
Carver's dark grin appeared. "Actually, they did not say much, but I got part of what I wanted from them. Now, I want to know the rest. Tell me what you really did between the Mandalorian Wars and the end of the Jedi Civil War?"
"That's my business Carver, alright?" Atton countered. "My life isn't some open biography for everyone to see. If I ever decide to share my history with you, I will; but until then, stay out of my business." Atton started toward the door.
"Do not turn your back on me…Jaq."
Atton froze in his tracks and turned. "What did you just call…" A sudden jolt of extreme pressure slammed against his forehead, forcing him to his knees. The nerves in his head screamed and his eyes sealed as the pressure turned into pain. He reached up to try to stop the pain, and his hand latched on to something soft and warm; an arm. Atton forced his eyes open and saw it was Silas who was making his head explode. No, this wasn't the Jedi Silas who was doing this to him; this was Darth Malvolis. He felt something moving in his head. He's trying to get in my mind. Atton gritted his teeth and tried to fight back, but Malvolis had already broken many of his mental walls."Why?" he asked between ragged breaths. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I am tired of handling you with kid gloves, Rand." Malvolis' tone was as dark as it was calm. "It is time you fell in line." He sent another Force pulse into Atton's mind, but it took longer for the pulse to penetrate as deep as the others. It looks like Atton has recovered from my initial assault. Let us see if he has the power to repulse me completely.
Unfortunately for Atton, Malvolis continued to drill deeper into his mind with each passing minute. He could feel Malvolis picking through his memories little by little; soon, he'd know everything. Atton tried to push the invader back, but the unexpected attack had allowed the Sith Lord to gain a comfortable foothold which Atton couldn't reclaim. The other hold he couldn't break was Malvolis' grip on his head; despite his efforts to pry the hand off his forehead, Atton couldn't match the strength of the former Jedi Guardian. To make matters worse, his physical and mental exertions were wearing him out. If he keeps this up, I'm going to pass out soon, he thought.
"We cannot let that happen, now can we?"
"You bastard," Atton yelled. "Get out of my head!"
"Only if you can make me," Malvolis retorted. "Your mind is strong, Atton. I do not know where you learned these mental resistance techniques, but it is clear that you have not given them a good workout in years. So let us see how much you do remember. Release your grip on my arm, Atton."
"Wha..no…No."
Despite Atton's protests, Malvolis felt his grip fluctuate. "Release your grip, and put your arm down, Atton."
Atton's fingers let go then clamped down on Malvolis' arm twice.
"Atton!"
Atton looked up an found his gaze fixed on Malvolis' unblinking amber stare.
"Stop fighting me, and put your arm down."
The command echoed in Atton's head. Unable to stop himself, Atton squeezed his eyes shut, and his shaking fist hit the floor.
"I was right; you are rusty," said Malvolis. There was a hint of condescension in his voice. "But not to worry; with training, we can sharpen your skills in no time."
"You're going to pay for this."
Malvolis shook his head and sighed. "And you wonder why Kreia calls you a fool. She…she has been here, in your mind. Yes, I can feel the remnants of her presence." Had he not spent the last five hours meditating and practicing with Kreia, he might not have recognized the stain in Atton's mind. No, not a stain; it is the doorway into his darkness. So that is why I can detect Atton's dark side when he is near Kreia; she brings it to the forefront of his consciousness. I wonder what webs my mentor is weaving. "Open your mind to me Atton. Show me what Kreia has done."
"No," breathed Atton. "I can't believe…I trusted you."
Malvolis laughed. "Is it really so difficult to believe? After all, I was offering you the very thing you desired most."
"And that would be?"
Carver knelt down and looked the Scoundrel in the eye. "Friendship…without obligations." Atton fell silent as Malvolis rose back to his feet. "Whether you realize it or not, you have been running around the galaxy looking for someone who would accept you for who you are; someone who would not care about your past or simply use you for your talents. When we met, you saw the potential for such a friendship to form, so you decided to be my pilot to prove your worth. For a time, that was sufficient, but during our last trip through the Refugee Sector, I uncovered a piece of your past. At first, I thought you were a threat, an assassin of one of the Sith Lords hunting me. I see now that I was half-right; you were a Sith assassin, but your master was Revan. You must have had impressive skills to become one of his elite Jedi Hunters."
"Yeah? Well maybe the only reason I chose to be an assassin was that I was just too afraid to fight on the front lines with the rest of the soldiers."
"Now, Atton…Jaq…you know that is not true. You have an incredible talent, hiding your mind from Jedi so you could get close enough to kill them. Very few in the galaxy possess such a gift. And hunting is not your only skill." Carver removed his hand from Atton's forehead, but he remained linked to Atton's mind. Now that he was done tearing down Atton's old walls, he would help him build new ones. "Had you been under my command during the Mandalorian Wars, you would have been a great asset."
"Yeah, until I chose to abandon the Republic and follow Revan and the Sith," Atton admitted.
"Bah!" retorted Malvolis. "The Republic is a dying ronto. It has grown old, stagnant, and corrupt. It deserves whatever fate befalls it. Fortunately, your destiny is not the same as the Republic's. I can show you your true path."
"I've heard that rhetoric before. Many times, from both sides. But, in the end, they all just wanted to use me."
"Of course they did; you possessed a talent that the Jedi, that Revan, respected and feared. What greater weapon is there than to break an enemy so completely that he questions is own beliefs? To strip him down to the very core of his being and make him beg to be put out of his misery? You, Jaq Rand, have the power to tear a person's life, be it a Jedi's or not, from their hands, hold it in your own, and decide if it should continue. Revan kept you away from the frontline because he feared you would encounter a Jedi who could convince you to return to the Republic. Then, the Jedi Council would have sent you on missions to convert the Jedi back, just as Revan did before them. Of course, they would tell you that you were showing the fallen Jedi 'the error of their ways,' but in reality, it is the same tactic."
"The Jedi, the Sith; they claim to be radically different from each other, but they're all just arrogant, ego-driven, lightsaber-swingers who want power. And they're willing to let millions die to keep it."
"Yes, and that is why we, both of us, broke away from them. Like you, I followed Revan, and like you, one day I decided to leave."
"But you were never really a Sith, though you call yourself one now."
"My title of Sith Lord is just that, a title. A convenient moniker for the Jedi historians. I have no thirst to conquer the galaxy, but the remaining Jedi and Sith are more than willing to sacrifice the galaxy for their own agenda. They all must be dealt with, and a new Order must be created."
Atton smirked, "Yeah, good luck with that."
Silas cocked his head. "I could use your help, Jaq. I need all the warriors I can muster. As I said before, your mind is powerful, but you have not challenged it in years. I can help you regain your edge, fulfill your destiny,…and teach you to wield the Force again."
"Sorry, I left all that behind me."
"Why? Because of that Jedi? Just because you killed her, you decided then that you had had enough, that you had reached some sort of quota?"
"If you read my mind as much as I think you did, then you know the reason I left. You know I couldn't control my emotions after I killed her,…after she showed me the touch of the Force inside me,…after she died to keep my secret,…after I felt her die."
Malvolis' lips curled in disgust. "You really believe that her intentions were so noble? That she died to hide the fact that you could feel the Force from the Sith? Please. You shook hands with Revan himself; he knew you could use the Force. If he wanted you to be a Dark Jedi, he would have made you into one, but he chose a different path for you." Atton's eyes darted back and forth. "Think about it Jaq; the Jedi's numbers were thinning; because of you and the assassin squads, the Council was losing Jedi faster than they could train them. You were a threat, so they sent Jedi out to find and eliminate you and others like you."
"But, Jedi don't kill, or at least they aren't supposed to kill."
"Granted, but we both know they only adhere to that policy when they choose to. And, you do not necessarily have to kill your target to eliminate the threat, do you?"
"Wait, you're saying that she…,"
"…played you for a fool, pretending to help you, but instead taking away the very thing that made you unique?"
"But, she said if they found out, I would…"
"They already knew! I would not be surprised if over half of the people in the death squads were Force Sensitives. You were trained to convert Jedi or kill them. I know you were good at it, too; I do not have to read your mind to see that. Why do you think you were so good at throwing up walls? How was it you could hide your mind from the Jedi so completely? You are a natural killer, Jaq, and with full control of the Force, you could have been so much more. That is, had that Jedi not intervened."
"But why would she kill herself just to stop me?"
"Those were desperate times for them. The Jedi were eager for any sort of victory, no matter how small."
Atton's expression hardened. "So, I was just a mission for some suicidal Jedi? Why didn't I see that before?"
Malvolis placed a cold hand on Atton's shoulder and pulled the man to his feet. "Jedi manipulations are subtle," answered Malvolis. "You have to know they are there in order to see them. You trusted her, and she used that against you."
"I'm tired of being used and manipulated. I'm tired of being treated like a dreg and a fool."
"What better way to show them who controls your life than to walk the path that they denied you?"
"There was a time when people respected me, some even feared me. I want that back."
"Only you can take it, but I can show you how. Learn from me; use my knowledge and make the galaxy tremble in fear in your presence."
"How? What must I do?"
Malvolis smiled victoriously. "Awakening to the Force requires more than reciting a simple chant, Jaq. You must learn to reach out with your perceptions and find you target hidden among the masses." He paused. "And here on Nar Shaddaa, we have the perfect opportunity to hone your skills. There is a Force Sensitive close to us on this moon; Visas Marr detected it when I sent her on a scouting mission. As part of your training, you will work with her to find this Sensitive; it will help you refine your Force perceptions. I will work with you to keep your mental walls strong and your reflexes sharp. Also, I will train you to use this." Malvolis reached under the outer layer of his robe and produced a large, double-bladed lightsaber. He held it level and ignited it; a pair of red beams extended outwards. It was the same saber that was given to him by the Refugee leader a day ago. "On the same day, Jaq, within the same hour, I obtained two things: this saber and your destiny. I have no doubt that the two are linked. I have returned to you your destiny; now I give to you this blade. I do not think you need the title 'Darth', so reclaiming the name 'Jaq' will suffice, for now."
"Yeah," smiled Jaq, taking the saber from Malvolis, "I think so, too. I pledge to follow you, to Hell and back if need be, that your enemies will be mine, and that we will crush anyone, Jedi or Sith, that dares stand against us."
"I accept your oath," said Malvolis. He activated the pressure switch on his right hand, held his saber vertical, and ignited it. "Welcome Jaq Rand. Welcome to the Third Order." Both men switched off their sabers, put them away, and turned towards the door. As Malvolis unlocked it, he remembered something from before. "One more thing, Jaq; tell me why I felt Kreia's presence in your mind."
To be continued…
