What is evil?

I find myself asking this now. Once, I would not have believed in the existence of evil, of the idea of ultimate cruelty and rabid dispassion for life. Cruelty, though, I had once thought I had known. After I had joined the Imperial Army my C.O., a certain Rirax Gamba, was just about as vicious as I could imagine any person being at the time. I was being given a second chance, but that didn't stop him from treating me like the prisoner I was. He was an unwavering force, a wall of Imperial discipline and doctrine. As someone who had grown up without discipline of really any sort, I'd thought him to be a horrible person.

Looking back now, I see him as anything but cruel.

Now I know cruelty. True, unbridled cruelty.

The plan Kira, Ced and I had come up with the attack the Sith Empire's station above Farfinn was admittedly dangerous. We could have engaged the fleet. There was no real defense at the research stations; ships would come and ships would go, but everything seemed to be relatively loose. We may have gotten the fleet in close, destroyed the station and left before ships arrived from nearby core systems.

We decided to get fancy. No. I decided to get fancy.

And the cruelty comes back to me; I shudder as I remember what has been done. What I have done in this past day. The feeling of the tight grip around my neck, my vision blurred by tears; Darth Devlin looking down at me leeringly. Here in the prison cell I curl my toes and bury my face into my forearms. The fur is salty and wet.

The sight of Vax and Rommesh clashing lightsabers, the dark side trailing off them almost like some palpable, real aura. I had been forced to harm them with the force to stop the fight, and to keep them from harming Kira. They had gone to meditate separately, but Kira and I were called to the med lab after another fight. We were informed of the reason that they had been fighting one another.

I know deep within me it is not my fault, but the feeling remains on the surface, bobbing in the roiling, dark and tainted pool growing within me. Micro-organisms. Sith engineered, bringing out the latent anger and hatred of the force in any living being. In a force user, as it was explained to me, it is all the stronger. And the Gambit was crawling with them.

There is the sound of movement down the hallway. I raise my tired eyes cautiously to find through the small viewing panel it is only a duo of Troopers. They pass my thick-walled cell without so much a turn in my direction. The elation at going unnoticed makes my heart leap into my chest.

Vax and Rommesh were sedated. I foolishly insisted on wanting more say in our plan. It went from a simple recovery mission to an elaborate plan. And my part of the plan had been to apply for the 'position' of a Farghul lab assistant. I have no doubt, nor did anyone else, that the Sith were experimenting on my people. The Sith geneticist Darth Devlin, working here, was who intelligence pinned as the culprit. Working on a bio-weapon the likes of which could change life in the galaxy forever. I was going to infiltrate and manipulate Devlin.

Manipulate a Sith. I know looking back on it, it was an idiotic idea.

I know a lot about manipulating, feigning knowledge on complicated subjects. I can sweet-talk, and made a job of seduction for many years on my own. The plan initially worked, and Devlin made me his one lab assistant. The others were taken away, presumably to be tested on. I had hoped maybe I would not be used, but within the minute of taking me into the workstation he injected me with a liquid. Though I was suppressing sensitivity to the force I could feel, now that I was aware, life. However faint. He had injected me with whatever Vax and Rommesh may have.

But I was confident in my abilities to manage this new challenge. I assisted him on experiments for the next few hours, managing to keep from hesitating too long at the names of instruments, and offering my bland observations. The observations of a shy bookworm who has known little interaction with her own people. I did not break character.

Even when he offered me better lodging for the night, provided I spend it with him. I kept character and shyly, fearfully accepted, someone who lived under Sith rule on Coruscant for the past few years. "Minii Sivee", as I was known by alias, was prevalent. Sera'a was hidden, buried deep within my mind and soul. I could not risk being noticed.

And so, I tell myself even now, it was Minii Sivee who acquiesced to the Sith's request for bedding, and accepted. Minii Sivee was the one frightened of the repercussions. And Minii was the one who suffered all the indignities; things Sera'a had never seen or heard of being done. Horribly graphic, disgusting, vile acts of depravity only the most sick of soul would conceive of. Not Sera'a.

I dig my short fingers into my fur, my eyes closed.

But it was not Minii who had the bugs within her, turning her hatred for the man doing these things to her into passion. It was not Minii who continued on without protest through the night, for fear of cover being broken. And it was not Minii who found her body responding favorably to the Sith's manipulations. It was Sera'a. What is wrong with Sera'a?

What is wrong with me?

I run a finger along my jugular, feeling the pulse pump through as it always has. Knowing that this time it houses thousands of organisms. I think the only way I can remain from wishing death on myself is to blame them, for now. Blame on them that even on being degraded, violated on a level of the soul even though I may have been of willing body. But I cannot blame them for being found out.

I had fallen asleep soundly, and slept a dreamless sleep despite the events which still shake me now. And I awoke to Devlin, whispering in my ear. "What should I do with you now, my little Jedi?"

I could not breathe as I seized. Panic besieged me. I muttered out a truth, claiming not to be a Jedi. I had not answered his question, and he stood from the bed in a rage. As I had rolled from bed he called a red bladed lightsaber to his hand and it ignited with a hiss. I tried desperately to explain to him yet another story; I was an Imperial Knight who became deeply interested in his work, but when the Fel Empire would not research further that I left them to seek him out.

And I was taken away then. I did keep the story up under the torture I was exposed to, though I don't know now that it will do much good.

I have no way of knowing the time, but I can assume it will only be a few hours now. Hours until Kira shows up in her freighter, posing as the captain of the ship I was to lead Devlin to when Ced attacks from the stolen Sith Imp shuttle, with his Dark Troopers. Only now, it will not happen. I have no way of letting them know what has happened, to abort the mission. I am leading them, now, straight into the hands of the enemy.

Again there are footsteps toward my cell. This time, however, they do not pass. There are three soldiers this time, one holding a blaster rifle level at me as they enter. I can recognize the look in their eyes, the exaggerated machismo they put on as they step through the door; Devlin undoubtedly sent them. They speak at me derogatorily, mewling in a mimic of my home tongue. One reaches out to grab at me. I know his intentions. Devlin sent men for something similar not long ago.

The fear boils up within me again. I scream out in anger and grasp at the one who reached for me, my other hand outstretched. The feelings of fury, despondency, loneliness and bitter, bitter resentment tug at my soul. Along with my cry, dancing along my fingers, a chain of electricity flares to life. It encompasses the man I am touching as well as another, and the sickeningly sweet smell of crisped flesh fills the air. I see the fear and pain in their eyes, and even though my mind begs to stop, my soul continue to pour the emotions forward. It goes on for what feels eternity. They both collapse, and I sink back into the wall. I cannot see, for I'm crying now.

It felt good to hurt them, and now, I am even more frightened.

A large object knocks my head to the side. My vision spins. I'm vaguely aware of the threats the third trooper throws in my direction, the muzzle of the weapon he wielded pointing squarely at my nose. I don't fight again. I can't abide by the feelings of sorrow and shame that follow.

There will likely be no escape for any of us now.

Ced, Kira...I'm sorry.