A/N: I have a weakness for cross-faction friendships. Deal with it. ;)
Studying with the Enemy
o.O.o
Satele clasps her hands behind her back as she finishes the briefing. "The holocron has fallen into the hands of a cult based on Nar Shaddaa. Their leader, the so-called 'Great Healer,' is in fact a Sith Lord, a member of the Dark Council named Darth Nox. The youngest to attain that rank in years—and one of the most powerful Sith on the Council."
Aionar's flickering blue image nods absently. "Mm-hmm. What is this holocron? And why is it so important?"
Satele should have known that would be the part zie'd pay attention to. Never change, Barsen'thor. "It contains the teachings of one of the ancient Jedi, a surviving follower of Rajivari who recorded the dissidents' philosophy and techniques in great detail. Though it was the early days of the Order, they could wield the Force in ways we can scarcely imagine."
"And we don't want this knowledge in the hands of the Sith. Understood."
"Your task is to retrive the holocron and stop Darth Nox's plans from coming to fruition. Be cautious, though—Nox is a cunning strategist in addition to her raw strength in the dark side."
Aionar bows in acknowledgement. "I'll be careful, Master Satele."
"May the Force be with you."
o.O.o
"Ahem."
Aionar whirls around. There's a woman standing barely two meters away. Zie can't help but be impressed that she managed to avoid notice this long. "Hello," zie says. "You're interrupting my heist."
The newcomer looks dubious. Black-robed and crackling with Force potential, she's almost certainly Darth Nox. Interestingly, she is Rattataki, not human or pureblood. "I confess, I expected your reaction to be more along the lines of this isn't what it looks like or some such nonsense. Your honesty is refreshing, Jedi."
"What else would I be doing here, anyway?" Aionar keeps hir hands at hir sides, stance relaxed but ready to snap onto the defensive.
"Quite." Nox crosses her arms. "You do realize that I cannot allow you to take that holocron. My people went to a lot of trouble to retrive it, and we were so looking forward to studying its contents—"
"What do you want with it?" Aionar asks. "What is so important about it that you'd go to such lengths to find it?"
Nox sneers. "Knowledge is power. That holocron is a precious resource, and a relic of an era shrouded in mystery. It ought to be used, studied. Not locked away in some lightless vault out of fear that your little Padawans might learn something distasteful about the Jedi."
Aionar bristles, fingers curling slightly. Zie draws hirself up to hir full height—which, admittedly, isn't much; Nox is over a head taller and twice hir mass, and looms even when she's just standing there—and says, "What, that we are flawed and fallible? That our history is yours? Old news, Nox. I'm more concerned about your plans for its Force techniques—"
Nox bursts out laughing. "Oh, please. The fumblings of the first students of the dark side are of purely academic interest; it's not as though they'd be particularly useful in an era of lightsabers and blasters and warships."
And she's not lying. Her mind is not fortified against even cursory scrutiny—Aionar tentatively looks a bit deeper, without bothering to hide hir efforts, and is shocked to find, under all the contempt, genuine frustration. How difficult is it to grasp the concept of simply wanting to know? Jedi, so sure of themselves, so convinced that it's all about them and their eternal war on the Sith—
"You want the holocron for its . . . historical value?" Aionar hazards.
"At last, comprehension dawns," drawls Nox.
". . . Oh." That—changes things. Possibly. Probably. Because—well, because Nox is right. Chances are, the Jedi will file the holocron away in the deep vaults of the Archives, where the "dangerous" records are kept, out of reach of all but the most trusted members of the Order. Aionar is among their number, but the vast majority of Jedi are not.
"What's that phrase you use? There is no ignorance; there is knowledge." Nox is watching hir with a hard look in her silvery eyes. "Hypocrisy, Jedi? Tsk, tsk."
Aionar huffs. "Believe me," zie says, "I'm well aware. Of all the tenets of the Code, that is the most dangerous. Because while it ostensibly encourages the pursuit of knowledge, in practice it provides an excuse for complacency and stagnation. We come to believe our own illusory infallibility. We stop seeking new information out of fear that our cherished beliefs might be challenged, relying instead on dogma and doctrine to provide all the answers. And if someone points out the uncomfortable truths of our history, we suppress them—and so even more knowledge is lost." Aionar raises hir chin, looks the Sith in the eye. "I am the Warden of the Order, Darth Nox, and this is my calling—to illumine what others would hide, to learn everything I can, and to be proven wrong. I seek the truth. Nothing more, nothing less."
Nox's jaw drops. She blinks a few times. Then she steps back to a less threatening distance, regarding Aionar with something like wonder. She clears her throat. "I realize this is a very strange question, given our respective . . . well, everything, but might it be at all possible for neither of us to kill the other? It would be a travesty to destroy you."
". . . I did not see that coming," Aionar says faintly.
"I get that a lot," says Nox, grimacing.
"So, what, do we both just walk away?"
"If you have no objections to the idea."
Aionar considers it, then bows hir head, rueful. "I'm afraid I can't return without the holocron."
Nox shrugs and waves a hand; across the room, a console powers up. "Mind if I keep a copy? It would take an hour or so to complete the data transfer, but I'm confident we can entertain ourselves for that long."
Zie probably should mind. The Council certainly will. Aionar, however, does not. "In that case—no objections."
Nox shakes her head. "You are a very odd Jedi."
"Oh, please, you're one to talk," Aionar sniffs.
Nox plucks the holocron from its stand and moves to insert it into the console reader, turning her back on Aionar despite the ease with which she could keep hir in her peripheral vision. And as the console hums and begins to process the holocron's contents, she looks over her shoulder and says, "I don't believe we were ever properly introduced."
"Jedi Master Aionar Rhell. It's a pleasure to not fight you."
She grins, cheeks dimpling. "Likewise. And you know I am Darth Nox, though you may call me Vhiyat, if you wish. Would you like some tea?"
o.O.o
"This," the tiny Jedi announces, "is amazing tea."
"I'll have to send you off with a box, then," Vhiyat says, gratified.
"You need not trouble yourself—"
"It's no trouble, I assure you." Anyone who can appreciate snowbite is good people, in her book. Which, conveniently, excludes all of her Dark Council rivals. Something about the blend lacking sophistication. Their loss.
Aionar takes another sip and hums appreciatively, green-gold fingers curling around the thick ceramic mug as zie inhales the steam. The two of them are sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the whirring console, cloaks folded beneath them. Thus far, their discussion has ranged from artifact preservation techniques to ancient Selkath dialects. Safe topics; nothing political. But Vhiyat itches to learn more.
"Do you consider us to be enemies?" she asks.
Aionar gives the matter some thought. "It depends," zie says. "Do we serve opposing causes?"
"I am Sith, and you are a Jedi," says Vhiyat. Time to see if this Barsen'thor is truly as open-minded as zie claims.
"Tell me what you want, and I will answer."
Vhiyat hides her triumphant smile behind the rim of her mug. "Well, I wouldn't say no to ruling the Empire myself, but barring that . . . Both Empire and Republic are ill-prepared for another war. And yet they are foolishly eager to return to their meaningless conflict. I would like to see how long the conflagration can be delayed. And if it cannot, how quickly it can end."
"You want peace," Aionar says, raising hir eyebrows. "Or as close as an imperfect galaxy can come to it."
"Don't you?"
". . . You're recruiting me for something."
"Is it working?"
Aionar raises the mug in salute. "Tell me more," zie says.
o.O.o
end