Chapter 6

'The Saberslinger'

Darth Taras is a tall human with handsome chiseled features. A broad brow shields his piercing blue eyes. A blue octagon-shaped tattoo covers his scalp at the crown. A long silky black braid swings from the back of his head down to his shoulder blade. A gold band holds it in place. Several metal studs pierce the auricles of each ear. A small hoop hangs from his left earlobe. His bronzed physique is muscular but not hulking Even still, Dantius' small frame is no match for the Sith's elegant movements. Dantius is clumsy and blatantly unskilled in the art of lightsaber combat.

Dantius tries to get up from the stone floor. He can only lift his head. The red whip-like lightsaber blade flies above, ready to land on him. Taras looks down on Dantius. His thin lips contort into a crooked snarl but it does not detract from the Sith's striking face. His lightsaber talents are masterful, much like watching a well-choreographer stage performance. Dantius is almost in awe of him to the point of distraction.

Darth Taras sees this all the time. He seems to possess a hypnotizing effect on his fighting opponents. He always emerges victorious in his battles. His female opponents typically find themselves at the losing end of a battle with him. Many of them lose focus when they are in his presence. The fight usually ends with a mutual agreement to resolve their 'differences' where both parties will emerge unscathed.

Jealousies arise amongst the women, Dark Jedi and Sith alike as some of them clamor to train along side him. He is slightly amused but is flattered by the attention. He finds a fiendish joy as the women begin to turn on one another in the process. He uses this as his advantage to rise through the ranks of the Sith Order. His many romantic encounters with these women cause infighting. He is charming and self-assured.

When his trysts caused turmoil in the ranks Plagueis grew concerned. One female Sith apprentice jettisons a ship she was piloting to her death off the Rishi Maze, pledging her love for him as her body drifts into an asteroid field. This path of destruction causes a great disturbance in the Force. One of his fellow Siths calls him on his womanizing tendencies but Taras has a theory of his own.

"See, if a woman wants me to seduce her... ...I usually do. But then she pretends I promised her something. Then I pretend I did. In the end, I'm the one that's exploited. They're using me to get to the top. It's not my fault."

His glib remarks elicit laughter from his male comrades but Plagueis fails to see the humor. Plagueis believes these clandestine trysts among his legions are disruptive and undermine his agenda. In order to maintain control, he reassigns many of them. The women are assigned to posts far from wherever Taras was located. Balance is soon restored…temporarily.

Dantius has had no time to practice combat fighting. Panic sets in when he feels trapped beneath the ominous hum of the moving blade. If he does not get up it will surely be the end of him. Who will be able to explain his whereabouts to his parents? Would the university even report him missing? For a brief moment, he thinks about how his family would feel if something awful were to befall their troubled but beloved son.

The lightsaber that Plagueis so blatantly ridiculed lay on the floor within his reach. It went crashing to floor when Taras sent the student sailing through the air. Dantius, now disarmed, had to think quickly. How desperately does he wish to live?

His fingers scrape frantically at the stone floor as he feels around for his lightsaber. His weak Force powers are just focused enough to draw the hilt of the lightsaber close for him to grasp it. Dantius suddenly finds himself upright. He jumps to his feet and begins swinging violently at his more advanced opponent. He aims but misses as his lightsaber makes slashing noises against the stone floor. His feet feel as wobbly as a sickly ikopi stuck in a slippery Naboo swamp trench.

After regaining his footing, Dantius stands erect then charges at Darth Taras. His neatly combed hair is now in his face. He does not hear the ghastly grunting sounds spouting from his throat. It stuns even Taras who is impressed by the young fighter's resilience.

All the while, Plagueis observes from high on a transept overlooking the altar. No one sees him lingering in the dark alcove. The Muun watches patiently as Dantius gains the upper hand and hurls Darth Taras against the wall. He takes a running start before Taras can recover and charges towards him. However, Taras is too skilled to be put down so easily. As Dantius closes in on with his lightsaber, the Sith twirls his blade until it forms a red coil and lassos the green blade of Dantius' lightsaber. Taras pulls the lightsaber and its young owner then dropping them into a heap onto the cold floor.

The frenetic thrashing of the entangled blades leaves Dantius cornered with both weapons bearing down on him. He can feel the breath of his opponent on his face. The dull humming of the lightsabers rattles his inner ear. He summons all of the Force that he can muster to push his way from the wall. He weaves under the two lightsabers to free himself and is able to slide his blade out of the coiled red blade.

Darth Taras stands facing him and immediately regains control. There is a maniacal grin on his face as he taunts Dantius with a loud, hearty laugh. Something about Dantius amuses the Sith lord. The new apprentice-in-training is like an amusing child at play.

"I see you want more. I am ready when you are, boy."

These are the first works emanating from the mouth of Taras. Dantius can detect an accent that he cannot quite place. It is perhaps Hothian, Sullustan or Ruusanian.

Taras spent most of his teen and adult life on Hoth near the Hoth Gulag. He and his siblings were highly intelligent and well educated despite continued hardships and frequent moving from one world to another. His roots however are strictly Ruusan. No matter where the family settled, Professor Kubenko insisted they remember their Ruusan heritage for they were descendents of great thinkers and artists. His given name was Nikita but called 'Nika' by his father. He was also the youngest. His father loathes showing favoritism amongst his three sons but he adored his little Nika. He was amazed by his precocious and fearless personality but feared for him for the same reasons.

Nika was happy as long as he had his family by his side. His brothers Alexi and Ilya were his best and only friends during most of their young lives.

Nika's family worked as researchers at the Ruusan Crystal mines. His mother, Sofia Kubenko was a crystal grader. His father, Professor Andrei Kubenko worked as a top geologist for the Mining Guild until he was stripped of his duties because of some trumped up allegations of smuggling crystal reserves out of Ruusan possibly for use by the Jedi. The Guild suspected he was in collusion with Sullust spies. Professor Kubenko is demoted to a mining supervisor but not before he teaches his son everything about the valuable faculties of the crystals. The professor would spend weeks at a time deep inside the mines. The sunlight hurt his eyes when he emerged to visit his family. The lengthy periods of darkness took a toll on his eyesight. He was almost blind at the time of his death.

Nika and his brothers spent much of their playtime with a Sullustan laborer and pilot named Bulba Nunb who carted the crystal ore to secret outposts. The Guild management that gave the pilot free access to the vehicles because he was dependable and took orders well without question. The Guild trusted Bulba Nunb.

Because he was not a threat, the Guild management left him unsupervised much of the time. Bulba allowed the boys to practice with small worker droids to help count and grade the crystals. The youngsters proved to be quick learners. He got away with a lot right under the noses of the Guild security.

Bulba would take the boys on board the cargo ships and taught them how to pilot speaking only in his native Sullust because his broken Ruusanian made the boys laugh. Nika caught on quickly learning to speak with a perfect Sullustan accent. By the time of his family's relocation to Hoth, Nika's accent became an amalgam of Ruusan, Sullustan, and Hothian; hence, no one was certain of his true origins

Nika proved to be an excellent pilot. He respected Bulba Nunb and developed a great appreciation for the Sullustan culture. He embraced it so much that upon his baptism into the Sith Order, Nika shaved the top of his head and had it tattooed in true Sullustan tradition. He eschewed the Sullust tradition of facial hair, instead pulled his remaining hair on his head into his now trademark ponytail.

By the time Nika was twelve years old, he was able to manipulate the crystals to create the most magnificent lightsabers one could ever own. The Sith soon discovered his talents. They immediately sought to gain this technology for themselves.

Nika became a great asset to the Mining Guild. He had a promising future. Unfortunately, the Guild almost lost track of the 'wunderkind' when, by some administrative fluke, he was shipped off to Hoth to the Gulag. Shortly after his arrival, Nika got word that his parents were arrested and confined to a labor camp close by. He escapes to search for them. Cold and half-starved, he locates his parents and two brothers just as they are executed.

Traumatized by these series of events, Nika flees. Guards discover him near death in a snow cave abandoned by a Wampa creature. He was nursed back to health and sent to work at an old Sith fortress. He tinkered with abandoned lightsabers from fallen Sith. An observant Darth Plagueis recognized the boys' gifts and immediately took him under his wing. Life was harsh on the Gulag. As he pledged his allegiance to the Sith Master, he took the name of 'Taras' in honor of his mentor and guardian Bulba Nunb. It was the actually the name of Bulba Nunb's father. Bulba told him and his older brothers so many amazing stories that he thought he knew the man.

Now, reborn a Sith, he looked to Plagueis for guidance. He was no longer the hopeful Nika. The loss of his family destroyed much of what was left of that beautiful and inquisitive child. Plagueis promised the boy a better life away from so much 'death and destruction'. It was a promise soon broken.

Dantius almost lets down his guard when he listens to Darth Taras. The young apprentice-to-be maintains his stance with his lightsaber.

"I am ready."

The two close in on one another. Dantius keeps his eyes on Taras careful not to allow himself to be pinned again. They circle one another until Dantius has an opening. Taras uses the Force to throw Dantius across the room. Dantius is winded but comes back for more. He leaps into a sidekick hitting Taras in the chest. This does not slow the Sith down, however and he charges Dantius head on. Dantius' eyes widen as the two are about to collide. Darth Taras stops suddenly. He makes a low grunting sound. Dantius looks stunned as his green blade pierces the black waistcoat Taras is wearing.

The red lightsaber blade crashes to the floor. Dantius is stands frozen. He takes halted breaths as if he is about to have a panic attack. His blade is still inside Taras near the hipbone.

"Enough!"

Plagueis appears again, raising his hand beneath his cloak. Dantius blinks then retracts the blade of his lightsaber. Darth Taras falters and takes two steps back He steadies himself then straightens the leather waistcoat. He manages a smile. As a terrified Dantius Palpatine watches.

"It's nothing serious. Just a minor flesh wound. You owe me for a new waistcoat, newbie. Not bad for your first trial. I felt pity for you. Your fear saved you this time. It will surely betray you later."

Plagueis raises his hand again for the Sith to stop speaking.

"Quiet. The boy is traumatized." He arches an eyebrow as he glances at Taras. A faint smile creeps across his face but it quickly fades. Plagueis notices the coin-sized wound. He also notices the damaged waistcoat. It is not a 'flesh wound.' The lightsaber pierced through the leather fabric. Plagueis can see straight through to the other side. Taras vainly places his hand over the hole and applies pressure against his wound.

Dantius is breathing heavily. His shoulders heave in sync with each halted breath he takes. He sinks slowly to the floor and braces himself against the wall near the fallen column. A tear rolls down his cheek.

Plagueis walks over, grabs him by the collar of his shirt, and drags him outside the cloister. He waits a bit before speaking.

"Are you composed now?"

Dantius quickly shakes his head as he dangles like a like a ragdoll in his master's grip.

"Yes." He coughs and gasps for another breath.

"And what would your father say to you right now?"

"I…I don't know." Dantius is exhausted but he is becoming irritated as well. Why is Plagueis questioning him this way?

"Would he be proud?"

"Maybe…I don't know." He looks down at the stone walkway. It is visible only because of the moonlight. He struggles for the right words for what he is feeling right now. He tries to maintain control but he loses his composure. "I didn't expect him to attack me…what is this? I thought he was going to kill me!"

Plagueis is calm and pragmatic.

"But you bested him and you survived."

Dantius stares at Plagueis with disbelief.

"You were going to let him kill me?"

"You're alive. You have the instinct for survival."

Dantius is enraged and forgets to whom he is speaking as he barks out each word.

"That's not the point!"

His heart is making that 'lubdub' sound again. It is faster and harder as if someone is reaching inside and squeezing his heart like a stress ball. He paces aimlessly, combing his hair out of his face with trembling fingers.

"I almost killed someone tonight! Oh, God! What have I done?"

"Yes…and in that respect, you have failed."

"You wanted me to kill him?"

"My dear boy, that is simply not the point. The point is that you stopped when someone was about to take your life."

A confused Dantius shakes his head.

"I don't understand…"

"This is your first day of training. I will forgive you this one transgression. I see much potential in you. I need to draw it out. Stay here and gather your thoughts."

Plagueis leaves his young charge in the cloister. Dantius leans against one of the columns of the colonnade in the cold night air. It is several minutes before he realizes that he is alone. He remembers that his coat is inside the chapel on the floor.

Dantius walks to the iron door and pulls the handle. The heavy door is locked. He can see the vapor exiting his mouth as the winter air cuts through his clothing. He yells. No one answers. He then tries to open the door without any luck then takes a few steps back to look for an open window. A strong wind whips through the courtyard making an eerie whistling noise through the colonnade. He wanders out onto courtyard near the fountain. The water has turned to ice.

Dantius tugs at his sleeves until they cover his hands. He can barely feel the fabric as his fingers turn numb. His lips crack and turn blue. He tries to walk across to an adjoining building. The wind makes a horrid sound drowns out his voice. The bristling bushes continue to rattle like boxes of bones. An hour passes before the giant door creeks open. Dantius is huddles in the corner next to the door like a street beggar. Plagueis stands in the doorway looking down at the pitiful sight.

Dantius can barely stand having crouched so long on the cold stone walkway. His joints ache and his throat is dry. He manages to hustle inside. Plagueis offers him no refreshment from the cold. He watches as Dantius limps across the room to grab his coat and rucksack.

"Go. Leave your lightsaber with me. I will provide you with something better upon your next visit."

Darth Taras is no longer in the chapel. One of Plagueis' hooded greeters is there to lead Dantius to the front door. Dantius steps out into the narrow and dimly lit street. He can barely read the 'Olde Bassa Ridge' street sign at the end of the block. It is the dead of night. It takes him over thirty minutes to hobble to the main pedestrian area leading to the cross bridge. His eyes tear up as the bitter cold savages his face. He is lucky enough to catch the last tram of the night. One minute later and he would have been stranded until daybreak.

Back inside the chapel, Plagueis stands at the lectern and rubs his chin. He looks contemplative. He reveals a holocron from the sleeve of his robe. Darth Taras appears in the middle of the room.

"You summoned me, my master?"

"Yes…How is your wound?" He caresses the holocron. Hues of violet vapors swirls about it.

"It will get better. I have started the healing meditation. He is quite good but not enough to defeat me."

"I know. He has failed I am sorry to say."

"True."

"But you have also failed, Darth Taras." He continues to hold the holocron. Flickers of static dart from its core.

"I may have underestimated him. I wanted to see how far he could go. But you did want me to assess his abilities, Master."

"Considering the outcome he did well, do you not agree?"

"I suppose."

"But he was able to wound you."

"Precisely. It is only a wound. It will surely heal by midday."

"You know what you must do."

Darth Taras looks back at his master with a shocked expression on his face.

"But Master."

"Do not make me do it for you. You should not deny yourself this honor."

Darth Taras can read his master's feelings.

"So…you have found yourself a new apprentice in him?"

"He is unskilled, but eager to learn."

Taras makes a cynical grunt. This is his last chance to dismiss the new apprentice as weak and ineffectual.

"He shook like a frightened shaak."

Plagueis is unmoved.

"You make me wait, my dear apprentice. I gave you a command."

Taras stops his posturing. He feels betrayed. His master has brushed him aside so quickly in favor of someone who has not been fully vetted. Taras is strong with the Force. He can easily overtake Plagueis but others would come in great numbers in retaliation. Plagueis has many Muun loyalists hiding in the shadows. Taras knows what he must do. He will save face. He will not show self-pity. Most of all, he will not let others in the Sith Order know he was wounded by a Sith trainee.

Plagueis does not turn to look at him but he does hear the hum of Taras' lightsaber. Taras kneels at the altar. A shadowy figure approaches Plagueis to his left. Plagueis and his witness stand silently as the shadow of the lightsaber appears on the stone wall of the chapel. The raised blade comes down at an angle and pierces through the torso of the kneeling apprentice. Taras emits one agonizing but stilted grunt. His lifeless body slumps sideways onto the stone altar.

Plagueis watches his holocron turn from violet to amber, and then pulses slowly before turning black. He walks over to the body to assess the remains. The Muun speaks calmly as he folds his arms under his cloak.

"You have served me well and you have died gallantly."

After Plagueis speaks these last words of the night, he reaches for the lightsaber and quietly exits the chapel.