Atton took his time in scrutinizing his environment. The power pylons seemed to be located deeper towards the interior of the large room. Each heavily insulated cluster of wires ran through the floors of the ship, and he could see the faint blue glow of the electric fields generated by them in the distance. There were several pylons; one across from the other. Throwing something as crude as a frag or plasma grenade would go no further than shutting one power line down. And he had no time, not to mention grenades, to be prancing across the room, showering detonators about like they were flower petals.
And his gut told him that getting by the guards in this place was akin to charging through a multitude of Rancors protecting their young. He counted about ten guards in his line of sight. All were heavily armed; energy shields, pulse blasters, thick armour. He also did not doubt that they carried at least one plasma grenade on their person.
But there had to be a vulnerability. Every perimeter, every security unit, had its weakness. The most efficient system was defined by the number of weaknesses it possessed, and not by the technology that kept outsiders away. The lower these security fractures, the better the system.
Atton frowned, a result of accelerating his thoughts. If the Sith had done all they could in terms of protecting their power supply with sheer numbers, what other methods could they utilize? Was each power cell controlled by a separate unit from afar? No, that would be too risky. Perhaps they were governed similarly to tractor beams then – with one control unit for the whole battalion.
In the distance, he saw one guard hold his wrist up to his mouth. Seconds later, the guard walked past the power pylons, and away from Atton's line of sight. Without turning around, he reached his arm into his bag, and fished out a small pair of field glasses. He quickly brought it up to his eyes, and adjusted its focus.
"Atton," whispered Yustan, who had been standing silently for too long a time. "Let's get a move on."
Still looking through the glasses, "Why? Don't you like our hideout?"
Yustan glanced around her nervously. "Yeah," she muttered. "Real swell. Now let's get moving."
"Plan?"
"I'll distract 'em."
"Sounds good. You better be good with that lightsaber of yours."
"I'm wonderful." Yustan unclipped her lightsaber from her belt, and gripped it firmly with her hand. "How much time do you need?"
Atton shoved his field glasses back into his bag, and strapped it firmly across his back. "You'll know when I'm done," and winked at her.
"You know the chances of us getting out of here in tiny little pieces are astronomical, don't you?" she smiled sourly, but unable to mask her concerns.
"Even the worst hand in Pazaak is better than no hand at all. You'll be surprised how many times I've managed to turn the tables."
"Well, if you have any aces up your sleeve – please don't hold back." She took a deep breath and slipped off before he could say anything.
Atton watched quietly as she ducked behind a short wall, and made her way stealthily towards the armed guards. He glanced at his chronometer, and back in the direction of Yustan. He heard a commotion, and saw other guards across the room run towards the source. Thirty seconds. Huh. She was quick.
Atton ran softly across the room, a blaster hidden snugly underneath his jacket.
He approached the area where the guard had walked into earlier, and knew for certain that it contained the equipment that governed the power generators. Four visible guards stood before a large pair of steel doors. He quickly ducked behind a pillar, but as luck would have it, the movement had alerted them, and before long, laser fire singed the air around him.
Atton didn't have much time to think. He rolled his eyes upwards, muttered what the hell, and charged forward, shooting. He let out a barrage of fire, hoping that the guards would be fooled into thinking he was a rotten shot. All the while, he searched for security cameras in his line of sight, and took each one out. All the other shots in between flew in random directions, and due purely to chance, hit some circuitry that shorted out. The guard nearest to the wiring let out a scream as a hot shower of bolts hit him, and seconds later, he sunk to the floor.
Atton grinned before diving for cover.
He rolled behind several pieces of equipment, and stopped. The laser fire continued, in addition to a new sound. The sound of something small making its way across the floor...metal scraping against metal. A sinking feeling in his chest.
"Oh, I have a bad feeling about this," he mumbled, and leapt away from the sound immediately. Two seconds later, there was a bright light and a faint smell of roasted nuts. Poison gas, he realized. Either they held little regard for their own life, or wanted to make doubly sure Atton was snuffed out for good. Damn, these guys take their work seriously, don't they?
Holding his breath, Atton moved away slowly, away from the guards' line of sight. Getting past them and into that room would take a miracle.
Suddenly, a cacophony of noise erupted across the room. Amidst the sharp sound of repetitively wailing klaxons, a voice spoke.
"All systems on alert. All systems on alert. Intruders in sections two-oh-four to two-twenty. Systematic lockdown in sections two-oh-four to two-twenty. Description of intruders: both human, male and female. All systems on alert. This is not a test."
Leaving no time for cautious thought, he seized the moment and leapt out from his refuge and fired at the remaining three guards. The alarm had taken had taken them by surprise, and so did the emergence of Atton from a different location. Atton wounded two of the guards sufficiently to incapacitate them, but a shot from his opponent to his hand caused him to drop his blaster. He immediately fell to the floor, and awkwardly handled the guard's legs, bringing him flailing to the ground with him. After a tense grapple, Atton managed to stun the guard with his own rifle butt.
Atton rose up quickly, pulling the dazed guard to his feet. He pointed the guard's weapon at his own head, and shoved him towards the door.
"Open it." ordered Atton.
"Screw you." replied the guard, apparently lucid enough to insult.
"I ain't joking here. But hey, it's a free world." The next instant, Atton lowered his weapon from the guard's head to his foot and fired. The man cried out in pain, and instinctively raised his injured foot into his hands. Atton, his face bland, spoke. "Wrong choice."
He pointed to the guard's other foot.
"Okay!" relented the man.
The guard limped over to the side of the doorway, and punched in a sequence of characters. Atton paid close attention to this, and once the doors parted, he turned to the guard. He raised the rifle to the man's masked face.
"No..." spoke the guard softly, anticipating Atton's next move.
"It's what you would have done." justified Atton, his face still emotionless.
"Please,"
Atton set his jaw, and tightened his grip around the trigger.
"I haven't...please don't," continued the injured guard.
Atton moved forward swiftly behind the man, and delivered a heavy blow to the back of his neck. He gazed down at the man, who – against his better judgment – was only unconscious.
"The things we do for women." he scoffed to himself.
His head thumping with pain and adrenaline, Atton walked into the room and was taken aback with its small size. He moved cautiously around the room, and to its center. He stared at the cylindrical tower that housed multiple arrays of wiring, trying to figure out its circuitry. He placed a tentative hand on a lever, above which was stenciled the word caution, and paused.
Something hot and red flew swiftly before him, before bouncing off the lever, leaving its surface scorched.
Atton jerked his head upwards in the direction of the shot, and saw Yustan walk in, holding her blaster up.
"Make a move already." she said, glowering under a sweaty brow. "I didn't just man-handled a dozen troopers to have you piddling over which button looks the prettiest."
She strode forward purposefully, and threw a grenade at the small control pillar.
"Is that what I think it is?" spoke Atton, his eyes wide.
Yustan grabbed his forearm, and yanked him out of the room. They broke into a run, and she turned to him, smiling. "Of course it's a thermal detonator, Atton. I learn from the best."
The blast was so forceful that it knocked the pair off their feet and threw them forward hard onto their faces. Moments later, Yustan glanced around her and saw the lights in the room flicker ominously, before coming on again.
"They must've switched to an auxiliary generator," Yustan said.
They both got to their feet and surveyed their environment nervously. "Means that only vital sections of this ship will be covered," spoke Atton.
"Think that includes the security lockdown?" asked Yustan hopefully.
Atton held up crossed fingers, and gestured for Yustan to follow him. The pair moved in the direction in which they came, and not a moment too soon. The noise of sturdy boots clanking against metal could be heard from the main entrance.
Yustan and Atton flew down the stairs and into the ventilating ducts.
THE JEDI TEMPLE, CORUSCANT
Her head slammed into something hard, and she felt every bone in her body rattle from the impact. Despite the urge to give into the blackness that tugged at her consciousness, she opened her eyes and saw the Sith walk towards her with the faintest of smiles on his lips. Mataki struggled to rise, and succeeded in raising herself partway before her knees buckled and she fell back to the ground.
She watched him warily, and the minute he raised his hands in her direction, she rolled to one side. A hot blast of lightning struck the place she was only minutes before. Mataki swallowed. She knew full well that her situation was dire, and struggled hard to prepare herself for the very real possibility that she might die. She had felt it before – several times – but it would something she could never become accustomed to. Her emotions began to unravel in layers, with the euphoria of invulnerability and hope being stripped off first. Blow after blow after blow had seen to this. Then off came logic and sanity, both, who – try as they might – could not find a winning strategy out of this predicament.
Finally, she was left with the very tangible taste of fear in her mouth, chest and stomach. It was as if her whole body was undertaking a weighty load, putting all functions on hold for the sake of survival.
She had not yet, however, reached the point of surrender, and it was that last feeling that filled her with the most dread. The need for an end and oblivion. Slowly, so slowly, she felt her own thoughts take her by the hand and lead her to that precipice...and allowed for them to speak.
It's what we wanted all along, really. Come now, you didn't seriously believe that you could reach closure any other way, did you? Listen to me...I'm you. For once in your life, Elori, listen to yourself. Atonement and redemption are but extravagant furnishings for a very humble abode. An abode that is so small and sparse that it simply cannot spare any room for forgiveness. Yes, I am narcissism. And yes, I am self-pity. But I am also your soul who has remained alive merely for the entertainment of the gods. A roll of the die, and we become a Jedi. Another roll – a new war is born, and with it, the beginning of our end. If the gods seek to prolong what they call theatre, then change the script...let us enter a paradise that we only know as oblivion.
Underneath her closed lids, her eyes burned. She could feel the beating of her heart – erratic now – as the ticking of a clock winding down. She felt the salty taste of tears wet her dry mouth, as her thoughts drifted to Javin, James, Yustan, Atton, Hix, Bao-Dur, Atris...Yura. Oh how disappointed they will be.
You won't be around to answer anyone.
She opened her eyes, and rose to her feet, one leg at a time. She could have given way to sleep as she was before, positioned on the ground and undignified, but it wasn't the way. She couldn't die like that.
The Sith stood but a few feet away from her, and had witnessed the struggle with the greatest curiousity.
He licked his lips. "Who would have thought that you would choose death as an alternative."
She shook her head, no. "I haven't chosen death, Sith. Sometimes, there are no alternatives."
"There are always choices, even in the darkest of places. You have to peer in closely to see them."
"Forgive me, but my eyes are tired."
The Sith looked away from her and into the distance. He didn't seem to be studying anything visually, and stood like this for several seconds. "Perhaps you know less of yourself than you think you do. Perhaps it takes the right person, at precisely the right time to make you see."
Mataki blinked a few times, trying to gain focus. Then, as swift as lightning, the Sith leapt through the air at her, bringing down his blade, framed by his face, towards her. She stared at the enfolding scenario from afar as if gazing at a piece of art, in which the artist had captured his character's emotions seconds before his death. The doomed man's face was pallid but inexpressive, tense but not afraid. But what she did not recognize was that there remained something, small and insignificant – a resilience perhaps – that shone through.
It manifested itself in her next move.
Before she could think, both her hands brought up her own saber, clashing with the red blade, shoving it and its owner violently to one side. The Sith hit the ground chuckling to himself.
"There. You see?" he laughed, rubbing his shoulder.
Her jaw dropped as she stared at him.
"You know what that's called, don't you?" he asked.
No, she didn't.
"You're not who you think you are, Elori. Allow me to show you."
Once again, he came forward, brandishing his lightsaber, and once again, she parried his assaults. He put more effort into his techniques and she adjusted accordingly so as to give no more ground. Though her moves were only defensive ones, the Sith knew it was only a matter of time before she gained confidence and chose more offensive maneuverings. He let out a blow that only shook her balance, and leapt backwards, to provide more distance between them.
"Are you satisfied, General?" he panted, breaking into a knowing laugh.
"What are you talking about!" she shouted.
"Even though your logic chooses death, even if the circumstances demand it, you cannot give in to either! That is the nature of your being, the primal sense of survival. It flows through you so strongly that even when the Force was dead to you, it remained. You are unable to defeat your true self."
She scowled. "If this is a bloody Sith recruiting drive..."
"Don't be stupid, woman!" he argued. "You are finding yourself, not who you used to be, but who you are becoming! You had to weaken, face the likelihood of surrender, and finally death to understand. An exile. That is exactly what you are. This will of yours is not accepting defeat, and it will hold onto anything to exist. Snatching it out of nothing..."
Mataki stared at him, trying frantically to mould his words into a shape she could fathom.
"I can feel the Force in you, Exile. I can feel it returning. Can't you?"
She held her breath, trying to listen to her body, her mind.
"But even when there was no Force, you remained, in your stubbornness. How is this so, Exile? What paths did you tread to reach here?"
"I feel no power." she said softly, cautiously.
"But I can feel it now..." he closed his eyes. "It is neither dark nor light, but it can be made to sway. Not for you though. You hold too much of an unconscious hold over it. Oh...but it can be manifested and harvested in the future."
Then suddenly, almost rudely, his thoughts became clear to her. Through this returning feeling, she saw his eyes, searching desperately through her mind. Quickly, she attempted to block him. But he was probing, peering, greedily for something. He saw James, and he saw his connection with her. Inside, he also saw the swamps in Dagobah, and after skirting through this memory, he saw Javin. He witnessed the brawl they had gotten into, and finally her long conversion with Kepp, Javin's uncle.
In the next instant, she saw an infant wailing in the arms of a man. She saw the man turn around, and saw a clearing in which lay several bodies. But then, a completely different location. Equipment, sterile, pristine. Many of them, no wait, thousands. An assembly line? Have I been to such a factory?
And then it struck her. These are not my memories.
Immediately, his mind left her own, and he opened his eyes and smiled.
"If they are not your memories, Exile, then whose are they?" asked the Sith.
"Yours."
"Partially true. I share them with your parents."
She felt a sudden pang.
"Would you like me to show you?" he asked.
"I think I've had enough show and tell for one day," she quipped, despite her anxiety.
He stepped forward, and then paused. Of the two, and at that given moment, it was obvious that with some effort, he might be able to put an end to her life. But that wasn't his goal. At least, not yet.
"We can exchange information, Exile. Quid pro quo."
"You're full of lies. You're so full of lies..." she repeated, a little less convincingly.
"Memories don't lie."
Her breathing quickened, and she felt a panic slither into both thought and voice. Everything that had taken place in the past few hours unraveled and became disjointed in her mind. These new sensations, and these bizarre revelations – if they even had truth to it – grabbed a hold of her, and she had trouble placing each event chronologically…trouble even separating the voices she heard now from those which spoke to her before.
Mataki felt her legs moving herself forward, and before she knew it, she had raised her blade against the Sith once more.
"Elori," he grunted, "believe me...I would never extend this courtesy to anyone else. I hold a large portion of your past within me. And you and Javin are only the tip of the iceberg. If I told you what the Jedi had done to you both –"
"It doesn't matter if they're lies!" she crouched and delivered a shot to his legs. She missed.
Streams of lightning pulsed against her saber, throwing her backwards. The Sith restrained himself and began to speak again.
"I will speak no such lies to someone such as you! You, from whom we have so much to learn from! Even the teachings of Exar Kun, Naga Sadow...even they did not record such paths in the Sith holocrons!"
"Stop it!" she shouted as she lashed out at him, and he rewarded her with a grazing blow to her shoulder blade.
"I need to know, Elori. Your knowledge is not your own – especially if it concerns survival. If you do not understand yourself yet, then let me help you, as I helped you before. The Jedi refused to acknowledge the person you've become – but I can, and will. And you do not have to join the Sith, Elori. You do not have to become one of us. All this and more can I bestow upon you if you only let me help you!
Did the Jedi tell you what they had done? Did they tell you what they had done to your parents, and to countless other individuals for the sake of their Order?"
Mataki stiffened, as if tensing her muscles would grant her immunity from his words.
Encouraged by the fact that she no longer argued with him, he summoned the Force and used it to break through once again into her mind, but instead of taking, he allowed her to sift through his own memories. The Sith held nothing back, assailing her violently with a flood of images, and took great pleasure in the fact that she had actually chosen to study them.
"You must bring them back; they cannot be allowed to roam free."
"I cannot. And I will not." spoke the man, his green eyes blazing at his elder.
"Padawan, you have been made privy to information that would normally not concern you – if I had my way. But such are the circumstances."
The younger man scowled as obvious distress came over his face. "You people concocted this project, and what surprises me is that with its grandiose scale and nature you never took into account that this might ensue?" And as an afterthought, he added. "And don't call me Padawan. I am not your pupil anymore just as you are not my master."
The man's former mentor closed his eyes, apparently saddened. "Sometimes most well-laid plans can go to waste. But all is not lost, Pietro. There is –"
"They are not cattle! They cannot be rounded up and executed simply for fleeing a fate that was forcefully bestowed upon them!"
"Pietro." his voice lost its patience and became authoritative. "If news of this facility leaks out, more than just the lives of these escapees is at stake –"
"Yes, your honour is. And the honour of the Jedi Council too. Why would I want to tarnish the reputation of an institution that is already black with decay?"
"Silence!" he shouted.
"No, you listen to me!"
"You will do as I say or risk being expelled from this place!"
"Is something the matter?" came a calm voice from behind the pair.
Without having to turn, the older man let out a deep sigh. "Master Renata. I am so sorry that you had to intervene."
"Pietro?" The woman turned to the young man, her eyes wide with concern.
Still glaring fiercely at his old master, he spoke. "I regret, Master Renata, to tell you that I can no longer take orders from the Jedi Council."
"Has this something to do with our runaways?" she asked. And then she smiled gently. "If so, do not worry, Pietro, only myself, Master Geyaro and your own master know of this affair. Of course there were others before us who began this project, but they died to maintain its secrecy. None of our knowledge will leave these chambers."
"It is not the secrecy of this project that concerns me." said Pietro stiffly.
"Pietro. Do not let your feelings impede the direction of the Order. Perhaps you cannot see it now, but what we are doing here is ensuring our survival. Sometimes we have to keep knowledge contained for the better good – even amongst those we trust."
"With all due respect, Master Renata, I cannot do this. This is not who I am." Pietro hung his head.
"Those who have escaped are a threat to themselves and to whoever they should meet. Without our control, they could play pivotal roles in tipping the scales of life and death. Would you rather have that on your conscience?" added the older man.
Pietro didn't respond.
Master Renata paused to consider something, and then spoke. "They have reproduced, Pietro." And then, on seeing a different worry flash across his eyes, she continued. "They carry with them two offspring. Should any member of this party fall into the wrong hands...consider the consequences."
"You speak of them as if they were insects," hissed Pietro, "...nothing in your eyes!"
"I apologize. I have governed this from afar for too long and have become detached. I have never met many of our potentials, but I know for certain that they could prove to be exceptional human beings and a credit to our Order." said Master Renata softly. "I would not wish them a harmful fate. Please. Bring them back."
He remained silent for a long while.
"Pietro?"
He raised his head dejectedly, but with defiance in his eyes. "I will bring them back. If nothing but for the sake of the children. And when I return I will have nothing to do with the both of you. Or the Jedi. You have failed me in such a way I never thought possible."
The vision faded, and Mataki gasped for air...partly due to the clarity with which she could see such events, and partly due to the implications of what the Sith had shown her.
"I need to know..." she spoke, barely audible. "More,"
And this time, she welcomed the visions.
"You know we cannot withstand the scale of this war – we lack the resources, not to mention the manpower to battle this new technology." spoke the Rodian, his antennae twitching in distress.
"We should not view advancing technology as our foe, Geyaro." spoke a much younger Renata as she sat beside him. "The future – as was the past – is always in motion. The only thing constant in our world is change. If we cannot adapt to change, we die out with our predecessors who believed as we do. It is not in my best interest, nor yours, to build a home for the Jedi Order solely in history texts."
The Rodian's mottled green complexion turned slightly pale. "Indeed."
"We can use their technology to our advantage as well." she smiled.
"Too little too late, and you know I speak the truth. How can we possibly come up with an entire fleet that consist of these new-fangled advancements? Our opponents have had time on their side. They will make us look like fools as we play catch-up." He sighed in frustration. "And instead of remaining at the Temple, I have been convinced to come along with you to Kamino on one of your whims."
"Oh, Geyaro...what I have to show you has been conceived from anything but a whim."
She was not smiling.
The Rodian and the woman sat surrounded by beautiful white-décor, safe from the raging waves that lashed against the fortress on the ocean-enveloped planet. The Rodian, somewhat impatient, walked towards the thick window – a hybrid of plastic and glass, very durable – and placed his hand on it.
"Do you know how many Jedi have been dispatched to Alderaan?" he asked. "Four. And to Taris? None. We could distribute them equally amongst the planets...but what good would that do? What good is one Jedi against thousands of foes?"
Through the reflection in the mirror, he saw Renata smile.
"I'm glad I was able to amuse you..." he said, sarcastically.
"No, no...Oh, old friend, if you only knew what I was about to show you... But I can't. You must see for yourself. It will dispel all of our worries!"
At that moment, the door to their room slid open and a young boy entered, followed by a polite Kaminoan behind him. He walked up to the two Jedi and smiled pleasantly.
Geyaro stiffened, the hairs on the back of his hand rising.
The boy extended his hand. "My name is Vetan Oshaa, and it is lovely to make your acquaintance, Master Geyaro."
Renata grinned. "Meet your new Padawan, Geyaro."
"The Force...the Force is so strong in him, I can feel it from where I stand." Geyaro whispered.
"Vetan Oshaa is one of our most successful potentials." explained the Kaminoan, pleased.
Geyaro turned to Renata, bewildered.
"The Kaminoans are wonderful scientists." spoke Renata. "They are such brilliant geneticists."
"You are too generous. We merely colour in what the artist has sketched, Master Jedi." smiled the Kaminoan. "Most scientists have to stand on the shoulders of giants to reach the heavens."
"Are you saying..." said Geyaro, assembling all of this rapidly, "the Sith holocrons...more than just teachings?"
"So much knowledge, my friend. So much. And we have resisted studying them for too long. Look what we have been able to accomplish in so short a time!" Renata gestured at the boy.
"You have...constructed a Jedi..."
"Not a Jedi," corrected Renata. "A Force sensitive individual. And a strong one at that. For the first few years, they are receptive to conditioning, isn't that so, doctor Lai?"
The Kaminoan nodded. "And this one is now fully prepared to follow in the footsteps of some of the greatest of Jedi. The others –"
"I'm sorry, what?" shot out Geyaro. "There are more?"
"Yes." answered doctor Lai.
"How many more?"
The Kaminoan looked to Renata for approval. Was this stranger allowed such detailed information? The woman nodded, yes.
"Twenty-seven, Master Jedi. But you must understand, we have only been working for three years. And manipulation on this scale is so delicate a matter that we must proceed carefully. Every detail is critical to our success."
"My God..."
"We have already won our war, wouldn't you say, old friend?" said Renata.
Mataki stood stock still, breathing heavily. The visions had been taxing on both their minds, and she saw the Sith rest his back against a wall, exhausted.
"I need to see more." she asked once again. "Please."
"Elori," panted the Sith, "I would have thought you'd seen enough."
"How did my parents escape? Who was hunting them down?"
"It is time for you to reciprocate my kindness," he said, looking up from under heavy, tired brows.
"No. Not until you tell me."
"I have showed you so much!"
She moved a step closer towards him in frustration. "Showed me? What have you showed me? Pieces of an incomplete picture that have now disappeared! All this happened before my time, what trail can I follow?"
"That depends on where you believe the trail leads."
"Are they still alive – these clones?"
From behind them, and somewhere down on the streets of Coruscant, explosions could be heard. But nothing save for death itself could tear either party away from their conversation.
She shouted at him. "Are they still alive!"
"What did you see, General, on Malachor V that changed you so?"
She scowled, realizing that he was as sturdy in a verbal confrontation as he would be in a physical one. She could only take if she gave in return. "It was a cascade of events, Sith. Malachor V was its climax."
"You saw him didn't you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Yes, she did. Through her silence, he understood her.
"Revan was the more brilliant of the pair. He fought a subtler, yet effective war than Malak ever could. His death saddens me." The Sith scrutinized her eyes for any signs of evasiveness, any sign that might indicate an untruth.
"Revan is not dead."
The Sith's eyes glinted. "Really! This is most comforting news,"
"Who hunted down my parents?"
"The Jedi. And certain bounty hunters working for the Sith." And on seeing her surprised expression, "Yes, of course the Sith found out. And they hired bounty hunters who were noted for their patience, effectivity...and most importantly, discretion. How did they get to know? That's another story for another time. Tell me about the war...about Dxun."
She turned her head away. It was too soon, even now, to speak of the horrors she partook in on that forsaken planet. The Sith, apparently, had realized this. The asking of blunt questions was too narrow-minded of an approach to study the exile. Pressed for time, he had blundered into this situation without much forethought. Still, he knew, there was other information that could be gained.
"Who informed you of this assault on the Temple? Don't pretend, I can see right through you. Remember that well!"
Her gut tightened and her hands went cold. And then, a new feeling tickled her senses, and following her instinct, she looked ahead of her and behind the Sith, and saw him.
"Don't do it, Elori." spoke James, his lightsaber ignited.
The Sith turned to this added danger and frowned. His strength had dwindled, and should this man choose to attack now, he knew he could not put up much of a fight.
Call off your lapdog, General, and I will tell you what you want to know, said the Sith in her mind.
"Get out of here, James!" she yelled, her eyes fixated on the Sith. "This doesn't concern you!"
"It concerns the safety of the Order, Elori. And unlike you, I am still part of whatever's left of it." said James.
"Spoken like a true Jedi, haven't you James? Turn on your friends – who would have given their lives for you – for the sake of a pat on the back! Well done, James, now that you've eliminated your comrades, we'd like for you to recruit more Jedi...you now have our blessings, go tear more children away from their families! Kill the parents if you have to, and when they grow up, tell 'em that the love of a family is pittance compared to the worth of the Jedi!" screamed Mataki.
"I don't know what lies he has filled your head with Elori," argued James, "...but you have to step back and see what he's doing, he's manipulating you!"
"HE HAS TOLD ME THE TRUTH!" she shouted. "The bloody truth! And about the Jedi, and their real agenda – which is survival at any cost! Just like the Sith, James...between the two of you, everyone dies in the crossfire!"
"Look, Elori...it's almost over. It doesn't have to be this way. The Sith are losing their hold on Coruscant. The Republic's found a way to breach their shields...it's almost over, and we're winning." pacified James.
"And that's all that matters, isn't it." she said flatly.
He was desperate for an answer now. The introduction of this new variable in their delicate little equation had the potential to tip the scales, and dangerously so. "Tell me who informed you that the Temple was under attack, Elori! Was it one of us who turned traitor?" he shouted.
"No!" cried James.
Mataki glanced at James and threw him a look of utter disdain. In him, she saw the faces of the Council. Everyone who exiled her. And in him, she saw the face of Master Renata, the woman she would never meet, and who had indirectly led to her own existence. "I will tell you, Sith. I – "
The Sith's eyes widened expectantly and then immediately lost its luster. A bland dullness overtook them, and what was once bright green seemed to be fading into a dark nothingness. Mataki screamed as she saw the lightsaber withdrawn from where it had pierced the man's chest. She scrambled over to him, and fell to her knees, holding the dying man's head up.
"Tell me," she pleaded. "Tell me anything...give me anything, Sith..." in her anguish, she felt tears roll down the sides of her cheeks and onto the man's chest.
"My name...is Pietro," he wheezed. "Others...there are others, still alive..."
"Where?"
"...I haven't finished..."
She bit her lip, forcing herself not to talk, to allow herself to listen to his quiet words.
"...haven't finished training my son,"
"Is he one of them? Is he one of those Jedi?"
"Yes...and no...Senator Sonum..."
He took in a huge breath, tightening his muscles before allowing himself rest.
She remained bent over the dead man, for how long she did not know. Finally a hand touched her shoulder.
James stood behind her, his face drawn and saddened. And when he spoke, his voice was drenched in guilt. "I...failed." he said. "I didn't know – I didn't know what he was saying, and...Atris, I couldn't,"
She rose up slowly and turned to him, no longer angry, yet not friendly either. "Of course you couldn't. The Jedi made you that way, James. They brainwash you so you swear loyalty. And when reality confronts you, you feel as if you're faced with two truths. One is painful and harsh. The other – familiar and comfortable. And easier. It's no surprise you chose what you did."
He closed his eyes in pain. "I am sorry. So sorry."
She stared through him, her eyes dull. "So you are."