Rissa knew it would come and she knew it would be bad. The nightmare always left her cold and shaken but at least it had the decency to let her know it was coming - the greasy sickness in her gut just before it reared up to clobber her like a cudgel.
They began shortly after Garrick had pounded on her and murdered U'Dina. Her recovery had taken weeks. Weeks she could do little physical activity so that left her mind free to wander aimlessly despite her best efforts otherwise. She'd read more books and journals than she thought possible but she found it was the physical that kept her thoughts focused more than anything else. Needless to say the second she was well enough to exercise and go back to work she did; always driving toward the point of exhaustion. Rissa learned to survive on very little sleep; a few hours at a time and only then it was because she couldn't take another step.
Dell Dows, blonde, green eyes, young . . . dead.
Mutt, no, Muttha Aks, Black hair, dark eyes, young . . . dead.
Alis, blue Twi'lek, demolitions expert, young . . . dead.
Lieutenant, no Captain, no . . . .young . . . dead.
Padawan Lute Tay, young . . . dead.
Captain, knight, soldier, sergeant, young, soldier, dead, padawan, soldier, young, soldier, dead, soldier, soldier, young dead soldier . . .
The battered body laid at her feet, the markings of the rape and brutality showed like beacons in the darkness. The lekku, hacked into pieces, laid scattered around the body. Decay was already evident from being in the water as were the nibble marks of animals that lived in the murky deep. The eye's popped open, U'Dina's eyes, dead and dark. "Why did you kill me?"
Rissa's eyes flew open as she fought through the heaviness of the names and faces that weighed on her. When she tried to move, she found herself unable to and panic set in. Her left hand beat against the mattress as she scrabbled her heels trying to gain leverage while she slapped at the heaviness on her chest. Had the burden of all she had done in the past finally come to claim its last victim?
"Babe, you're gunna hafta to give me a minute here –"
She turned her head to find the source of the heaviness on her chest. Rissa swallowed back the scream when she saw his face was deathly pale as if the life was being leeched from him. His hand was slowly creeping its way up her torso, headed for her breast. Who? What? Then it all snapped back. They had played Pazaak, then they played footsies, then they had come back here and played. She sucked in a breath, blinked the image clear and slapped a hand to his chest.
"Get out," she told him with a firm shove. Play time was over and she wanted, desperately, to be alone.
"Honey, come on, the night is young."
She put more effort into it. "Play time's over, get out," she snapped as she used both hands to shove at him. He was a big guy and in her present panicked state her hands were shaking. Not a good situation.
"Now, babe . . ." he said holding his hands out when he found himself staring down the barrel of a blaster. He didn't know where it came from but she moved awfully quickly for a skinny little thing, he thought.
"What part of get out don't you understand," she asked as she came up on her knees, the blaster pointed at his chest as the heart in her own pounded a staccato beat. The faces of the nightmare continued to keep time as the dream faded.
He gathered his clothes and hurriedly put them on all the while staring at the naked crazy woman with the blaster that seemed to stalk his every move. When he reached the door, he took a moment to put on his jacket. "You are one cold, crazy bitch."
The second the door closed, she dropped the blaster, dove to the mechanism to lock it, and then leaned against the barrier before she slowly let herself slide to her butt. She dug the heel of her palms against her eyes in an effort to erase the images of the dead that still flashed through her mind.
"Why now," she whispered as she let her hands drop and tipped her head back. She swallowed back the emotion that threatened to spill over.
No emotion, only peace, no emotion, only peace, no emotion only peace.
"Liar liar pants on fire," she mumbled as she took deep breaths to calm her nerves. "Do you hear that Vrook, the Sith have it right. Peace is a lie." At least in my little world it is.
She sat for a few more moments letting her nerves settle. When she felt somewhat steadier, she stood, rummaged for a short robe in a pile of clothes on the floor and shot her arms through the sleeves as she made her way to the small wet bar in the corner of her suite. The debate over the selection took less time than it did to blink and she poured the tall glass of Corellian Whiskey, gathered her data pad and settled herself on the balcony of the swanky hotel she was staying in.
I had the dream again, the one that runs like a criminal lineup of faces and stats, just enough to remind me of who they were before their inevitable fate at my hands. It makes no difference that they knew the costs of going to war, that every time they picked up a weapon; it could lead to their last breath; that they had dedicated themselves to the defense of the Republic.
Maybe this is why the council preached caution instead of running off to war. Maybe this is the real reason the Jedi strive to be peaceful; they don't want to deal with the aftermath.
I wonder . . . Master Vrook was always scolding me about my ability to create attachments through the Force. He would accuse me of doing it on purpose to manipulate my fellow Padawans. I didn't want the ability, but that bastard Revan did and by the time I figured out he had manipulated me, it was too late. The other Jedi Knights and Padawans were following us off to a war that Revan had convinced them was the right thing to do for the Republic. How many men, women and children of the order perished because I formed these attachments so easily? Eres II, Althir, Dxun, Malachor V. This is where the names and faces came from.
Do I still posses the ability to create these attachments even though the frackin' Jedi Council severed my link to the Force? Is this why I feel so responsible for U'Dina's death? The others? I've killed, slaughtered, murdered thousands, and ordered thousands more to their death. I accept this so why should I continue to be punished?
I went back for Force sake, to take responsibility for what I'd done. Cutting me off from the Force and exile wasn't punishment enough? Has the council decided I need to suffer more so they stalk my dreams at night with the names and faces of those that didn't come back? If they're doing this to me, are they doing the same to Revan? Or are they to busy rebuilding their precious order, denying the reasons why so many left. Why I left in the first place.
Rissa dropped the pad in her lap and shook her head. This is why she hated the nightmares; this particular nightmare. Not only for the guilt it caused but it also brought back with a flood all the reasons she left with Revan, agreed to be his general and guide the Republic on its quest to defeat the Mandalorians. And it got her nothing. Literally.
"Not nothing," she mumbled before taking a long drink. "I get to sit on a swank patio in the finest hotel, drink the best whiskey and I don't have to listen to a bunch of sanctimonious, self-righteous . . . blowhards preach about peace and patience."
How did I ever stand myself when I sat among them bloviating about the same crap? Maybe I didn't leave simply because I thought it the right thing to do for the innocents the Mandalorians were slaughtering. Maybe I did it because my own sense of self couldn't stand the pretense any longer.
I wonder what they'll do when that black-hearted son of a bitch Revan screams back into the Republic at the head of an armada of Sith. Sith that were once Jedi and Republic soldiers. I'm sure the vaunted council will sit back once again and preach patience. The fools!
"No! No, I am not a Jedi. I will not be sucked back into that morass of hypocrisy. They condemned my actions, abandoned me when I needed them most - for disobeying their rules - and punished me with exile for doing what they taught me, to do what I felt was right." She choked and coughed as her throat tightened. "I am not a Jedi."
Yet as it so often did when the dreams plagued her – and much beyond her control – she found herself mortified she couldn't stop the tears from running down her cheeks. She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes in a vain effort to stop the pounding in her head. Why did she continue to grieve for what was lost. "Grow a spine," she muttered before giving over to the crushing weight on her chest, and letting the pent-up frustration; fear and sorrow run its course.
When she was steadier, she finished the whiskey at her elbow before finding a more comfortable spot on the chaise and watching the sun rise before dropping back into a fitful sleep. This time, when the dream began, she didn't fight her way clear but let it run the names and faces. Rissa knew she had demons in her life she would need to deal with; the nightmare of the young. When she woke, she picked up her data pad once more.
It's so easy to blame the council for these nightmares; that they're also a part of my punishment, but they were never that powerful. I doubt they even know what the Force can truly do. You don't realize that until you've lost its use. If there is one to blame it would be Revan, simply because I can call him a jerk and an asshole for getting me into this frackin mess, but that's not being truthful. He didn't hold a blaster to my head; I went into the war with my eyes open even if my heart was caught up in the romance of riding to the rescue, being the heroes. I can't change the past. I'll live with the burden of my actions, the faces in my dreams. I just can't make them – or any others in the future - become a part of my life. I don't think I could stand it if their names and faces were added to the list.
And with that she silently declared she was done with friends. Friends – and she thought of U'Dina's name being added to the list of the dead - required some level of commitment and, after all, commitments were a big scary pit that dragged you down and ate you alive.
*************************
The fancy hotel had been a luxury and she knew it could be dangerous, but the idea of lying around like a slug and being waited on had been worth the risk. The massages and hot springs had gone a long way to ease the last of the stiffness in her muscles from the beating she took courtesy of Garrick who continued to send his goons after her. She still didn't really know what she had done to piss him off in the first place but the man had a long memory and was relentless. Every place she stopped seemed to be a magnet for his hired thugs. The only other thing she'd learned about him was that he had his fingers into a lot of illegal activities and his fist around the throats of numerous law enforcement agencies.
This was why Rissa sat in the far corner of a spaceport waiting for the boarding announcement for the transport to whisk her away. She spotted some of Garrick's finest waiting in the hotel lobby, their broken noses and thick necks screaming hired thug. She hadn't totally shaken off the dregs of the nightmare - and was just pissy enough her mini vacation had been interrupted - that she didn't feel like dealing with them. Others that had crossed her path had gone back to Garrick with broken bones, bloody noses, or in a body bag. These two she sent lunch with a very special spice that would turn their insides, well, inside out. Pays to be a smuggler, she thought at the time.
So she sat slumped over, a cap pulled low on her brow to hide her eyes and tried to give the impression she was dozing. What she was doing was watching everyone around her and especially a young kid, teenager really, trying to help an elderly couple. The old man kept swatting at the kid like a pesky gnat, but the woman beamed kindness and smiles at the little blonde dressed in lose clothing she recognized all too well.
"Idiot. I guess he didn't get the memo that Jedi are persona non-grata in the galaxy about now, huh?" This was from a man that sat down next to her. He shook his head. "Do you think they teach stupidity at those secret academies they have? I mean if he was any more obvious," he trailed off before casually pointing to the far side of the hanger. "See, waaay to obvious."
Rissa had seen the young Padawan and the attention he was drawing from a couple of men dressed in dark clothes. This kid's not the only obvious one, she thought as the guy chattered next to her. Perhaps it's time to get my own ship. I won't have to deal with Jedi and Sith in the space port . . . or strangers thinking I want to have a conversation with them.
"So, want to sleep together?"
Her head snapped up, all thought of the Jedi and Sith across the boarding area gone as she found herself looking into a pair of hazel eyes set in a . . . interesting face.
"Excuse me?"
"Babe," he said as he put his hand over his heart. "You wound me." His voice held a hint of exaggerated hurt while his eyes twinkled with suppressed laughter.
"Beat it," she growled, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
"Honey, come home with me. It'll be worth it." He leaned close to her looking earnest.
"Do you have a death wish?"
His lips turned up in a grin. "Not particularly. I just don't see a need to bother with all the cost and pretty words to get a woman into bed. I don't stick . . ."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, I see," he answered with a sad shake of his head. "You probably need all the flowers and mushy words and crap. Not me babe, not a flower on me, or mushy word in my vocabulary. As I said, I don't stick around. Wham bam thank you ma'am, that's Kinny Madx." With that, he stood and shot her a dazzling smile. "Sorry to take up your time."
Stunned wasn't the right word. Staggered, taken aback, shocked stupid! What the . . . it took her a moment to get back her bearings as she watched the tall man walk away and take his place in line for a different shuttle. He turned just enough, tipped his chin down just enough with a knowing smile and winked. The image of a cute, adorable gamboling puppy came to mind.
Rissa felt her face flush to the roots of her hair, mortified that she had been caught watching him. She quickly scanned the large room for anything else to look at and noticed the elderly couple was alone. The little blond Jedi was gone and so were the Sith. Frack!
Not her problem, not her problem, not her problem. "Damn it," she swore softly before she hitched her bag over her shoulder and went to find the stupid kid.
Damn it, this is not your problem so why the hell are you checking exits for this idiot? Didn't his own master tell him not to advertise he was a frackin' Jedi? Of course they were persona non grata as that guy said, Kinny – and what the hell kind of name was Kinny?
Focus!
If it hadn't been for her and Revan the Jedi wouldn't be pariah. They would still be the snotty, stuck up, holier-than-thou mystery do-gooders everyone thought they were.
"Damn it!" Rissa swore again when she spotted the kid's nearly white hair about twenty feet ahead of her with the two Sith closing in as the trio approached a side door that lead to the park beside the space port. She wasn't going to wonder about who this kid's master may have been. It certainly hadn't been Vrook since that old geezer would have beaten the kid bloody for going into a situation without knowing what was around him.
Rissa quickly stashed her bag behind some empty chairs before she pulled a long, razor sharp thin blade from the lining of her coat. Silent as the air around her she came up behind one of the Sith and easily slipped the blade in his back just under his rips. "It'll be quick," she promised with a hiss as she led him around a corner and into a small empty room. Once the door shut, she twisted the stiletto blade up and punctured his heart. Ignoring his guttural death throes, she wiped the blood on his clothes before slipping out of the room to find his partner. What had she said earlier about being a smuggler? Now you could add assassin to that job description in addition to card hustler, thief and bounty hunter.
Maybe she was too late, she thought as precious minutes ticked away and she couldn't find either the Jedi or the Sith. And once again she asked herself why the hell she cared. This was no longer her fight, her problem. Didn't she just promise herself this morning she wouldn't get involved anymore, that she would only worry about her own problems? It wasn't like she didn't have some obsessed crime lord dogging her every step.
Rissa searched a few more minutes before retrieving her bag and heading back to the boarding area when her shuttle was called for departure. As she approached the gate she spotted the other man. Taller than her, dark hair and dark eyes scanning the area for his friend, except this one didn't seem like the friend type. His gaze landed on her, dismissed her and moved on to the next person. She didn't need the Force to know this one was better trained than the Sith lying crumpled in a maintenance room. No, this one was good at what he did; killing Jedi, she could see it in his empty eyes.
What have you been doing, Revan, that you've created Sith assassins.
