The Foundation of All Desire (Part 26)
Darth Marr could not sleep. No meditation settled him. No music soothed. The pressurized heat of the refresher relaxed the powerful toned body, but not the mind. He stared out at the city below. The very night seemed to greet him as an old friend, and he savoured the damp breeze wafting in through the open window.
The fog pushed in from the lush, wet jungles. The thick milky brume coiled and curled through Kaas City streets with an almost sentient efficiency. The night seemed to be holding its breath as if it were awaiting a verdict.
His gaze was drawn upwards. Poets often referred to the night sky as the Emperor's cloak. Few stars dared shed their light through it tonight, but those that did, inspired him. Light was what he needed—certain confirmation of a truth he suspected and could not ignore.
Darth Marr eschewed his usual battle armour in favour of a tailored black cassock. A single line of buttons adorned the robe, twenty to be precise, from the upright collar to the hem that grazed the floor. He fastened only half of them, and knotted the wide matching sash about his waist. He tugged it askew until the ends skimmed his boot.
The one detail he would not forego was his face. His lip edged up at the corner. The mask had been a part of him for so long, he considered it his true face. Each line and groove whispered of his survival against grief and longing, fury and passion. For any but him, a mask is a lie forged for the face, but for him it was a billboard, speaking his deepest truth.
After clipping his lightsaber into his wrist holster, he tugged his sleeve over it. He collected a small metallic case and pulled up his hood. With nary a spoken word to his guardsmen, he stepped out into the night and fog in search of illumination.
"Oh, Master, you're awake. Good." Kira chirped. "Any pleasant dreams?"
"I wish. What about you?" Liatrix rubbed circles into the center of her forehead.
Kira grinned. "One…but when it's good, one is all you need."
"At least one of us got our wish. Urgh. I need caf. Dark hot caf. A tub full, so I can swim in it."
"On it, Boss. When you're ready, there's a holo call for you in the ready room."
"Who is it?"
"Derrin Weller. He's on Coruscant."
"Okay, I'll be right there." Liatrix eyed the drawer with the Korriban spike. Damnit. You'll have to wait.
She trudged out to the ready room, yawned and initiated the holo message.
"Derrin, what can I do for you?"
"Master Liatrix, my apologies for contacting you so early, but I hoped to reach you while you were still in the sector."
"Sounds serious."
"It is. It's Master Relnex. I'm deeply concerned."
"He hasn't taken a turn for the worse has he?" Liatrix's eyes widened.
"Physically, he's doing about as well as can be expected under the circumstances, but mentally, spiritually…he's suffering."
Liatrix nodded. "I know he cared deeply for the younglings…and paired with the surgeries, his strain must be nearly unbearable. Is he still at the hospital?"
Derrin nodded. "We felt it best he stay there. He needs time and the Temple is still in shambles and—
"Say no more Derrin. He won't be ready for Tython, any more than its ready for him. I'll head over to the hospital now. Maybe seeing another familiar face will help."
"That's what I hoped you'd say. Derrin out."
Kira set a large cup of dark caf into Liatrix's hands. "To Coruscant? I couldn't help over hearing."
"Please." Liatrix blew at the wisps of steam rising off the cup and sipped cautiously, grateful for its mind clarifying bitterness.
What he needs, is something to take his mind off things, she thought. An idea struck her, and she headed back to her room.
"Well hunter, ain't you a sight for sore eyes! Nice to see you haven't forgotten your friends, now that you're big time."
"You know I could never forget you Crysta."
"Ahh," She waved him off. "You always bin a charmer. Say, you still runnin' with that scrawny bit of a thing?"
"Oh, you mean Mako. Yeah, you could say that. I, uh, married 'er."
"I swear all the good ones are gettin' snapped up! Well, good on you sugar. Congrats. Tell 'er she's damn lucky. I haven't seen a finer catch, well, since…I can't remember when." Crysta laughed.
"You're makin' me blush."
"Well shucks, gotta turn ya purple somehow." She favoured him with a naughty wink. "Now what can I do you for hun?"
"I need some info. You know anything about a Ubesian hunter named Zee?"
"Hmm," Crysta tapped her index finger against the swell of her chin. "Can't say that I do. Name don't ring a bell. Why?"
"Let's just say it's a big score. The kind you could retire on. And you know me, I don't mind spreadin' it around."
"You're a class act sugar. I wouldn't mind givin' up this racket m'self."
"You? Give up? Everything a'right over there?"
"Yeah, more or less. Nuthin' to be worryin' your handsome self over. Things just feel a bit sticky. Might be time to move on, y'know?"
"I hear ya. You ever need me, you call. Got it?"
"Damn, that girl o' yours is lucky." She looked at him meaningfully and smiled. "I got a couple o' contacts I can try. I wish I had somethin' more for ya sugar. Pains me that I've got squat."
"Well, it's much appreciated, whatever you can do. And I wasn't kiddin' if you need us to come round."
"I'll be in touch either way. You take care hun."
"You too Crysta."
He watched her vanish and sighed. Mako crept up behind him, and wrapped her arms about his waist and pressed her cheek to his back. "Anything?"
"Nah. We might have to get creative."
Hospital admissions directed Liatrix to Coruscant General's private wing. Unlike the rest of the building, the corridors in the private wing were made of glass, framing serene gardens made of stone, sand and evergreens. Despite their tranquility, they were a poor substitute for Tython.
The décor inside was comfortably spare and similar in finish to the Jedi temple. She suspected the private wing was dedicated solely to the rehabilitation of Jedi. The rooms she peeked into contained state of the art equipment and droids—nothing but the finest, a fact she was grateful for. Master Relnex deserved the best care.
She paused outside his room, and tapped gingerly against the woodgrain door. When no response came, she edged the door ajar and peered inside. Relnex sat in a reclining hoverchair, positioned next to the window facing the courtyard gardens.
He was dressed simply in a plain cream shirt with wooden toggles and beige trousers. The left pant leg was rolled up to where the knee should be. His new cybernetic leg was made of brushed durasteel, with all of the tricky components caged inside the metal housing.
He remained still and silent, and gave no indication that he sensed her presence. She frowned and tucked the parcel she'd brought under her arm and approached him.
"Relnex…" She murmured.
"I told them I didn't want to see anyone."
"Do you think that would have stopped me?"
He snorted. "No, I suppose not."
"I guess I don't have to ask how you're feeling."
"I should've died with them Liatrix. Why didn't you just let me die?"
She pulled up a small stool and sat at his feet. "I couldn't do that…we're friends."
"Jedi aren't supposed to have attachments."
"So I keep hearing. Jedi aren't supposed to be angry either…but look at us. We've got good reason to be angry."
He looked down at her, the green eyes listless and lacking the gentle spark she'd come to count on.
"But there are reasons to be grateful too. Timron, Nimso and Kala are alive, and they miss you. You've taught them so much. You can still continue, doing what you've always loved." Liatrix added.
"How?" He glared at her, his eyes flashing. "I can barely stand…or move. I couldn't protect them when I was whole…how am I supposed to now?"
"It'll take time. You need physio, training, and meditation. But it's not impossible. You're a Jedi, the Force will help you compensate."
"I'm not a Jedi anymore. How can I be? I'm useless."
Liatrix's mouth tightened and her nostrils flared. "Well, then you're not the man I thought you were. You disappoint me. If all of your value comes down to a leg…what good were you really? A Jedi is more than a body part. Did you teach with your leg? Was all your wisdom and patience stored up in it? Did your leg have anything to do with inspiring those younglings?" She stood and crossed her arms, the wooden stool skittering away from her haste.
"You inspired them, not me." Relnex hissed.
"Teaching younglings is more than just showing them a few cool duelling moves. Sure, I helped with working off their energy, but when it came to the important stuff, you were the one they went running to. You were the one they wanted to impress. You were their whole world."
"Not anymore. I couldn't stop the Sith."
"But you did stop him. Those younglings are alive, because of your sacrifice. I know you brought that beam down on yourself to save them."
Relnex looked down at his hands. "I should've been able to save them all."
"Do you regret it? Because that's the same as regretting they're still alive."
"No of course not! I'd do it again."
"I know you would, but you can't save everybody. I understand your anger. If they had all survived, you'd think it was worth it, but you feel like your sacrifice was wasted. That's the trouble here. Your leg was worth more to you than three lives."
"That's not true! I would have given my life."
"You did give your life. Doc gave it back to you."
"No…you gave it back to me." He whispered.
"So what you're saying then, is that I made a bad call."
"No." He slapped his hands against the hover chair's armrests.
"If you're going to sit here and wallow in self-pity, I'm leaving." She shook her head and turned on her heel to leave.
"Wait. Don't go. Please." He turned the hover chair and followed her.
"Why should I stay?" Liatrix arched a brow.
"What would you have me do?"
"I'm not the one to tell you what to do. Deep down you know what that is yourself. You have to let go of your grief and self-pity and loathing. That won't be easy, but it's a start."
"Please…sit awhile. I've missed our talks."
"All right." She returned to his side and sat. Her gaze slid down to the cybernetic leg. "You know…it's really pretty impressive looking. I bet the younglings will be all over you, to look at it."
Relnex smiled slightly for the first time during their visit.
"It is a marvel…truly. I only wish I had an easier time working it. So far, all I've managed to do is fall on my face."
"You'll learn. One day you'll be so good at it, you won't even think about it anymore."
"I hope you're right."
"Does it hurt?"
"Sometimes…when I wake up at night, I'd swear my real leg is still there. It aches, but goes away after a while."
"I hear that's a normal thing. May I?" She leaned forward to examine it.
"Sure."
"I haven't seen one this close before. Doc says that they're coming out with coverings for them soon. I'll bet in the future, they'll look so real no one will be able to tell the difference." She traced the metal cage and the inner workings clicked to life in response and she gasped at the sudden movement.
"It's like you felt that."
"I did, in a way. The sensors are grafted into my nervous system."
"What's that like?"
"It just registers as pressure…no pleasure or pain…"
"Speaking of pleasure…" Liatrix smirked. "I brought something to entertain you. Rather I hoped it would." She summoned the parcel with an upturned palm. "Open it."
Relnex shucked the brown paper and ribbon away. "The Art of Avamarivash, Warrior Poet of Kaleth. Not every day you see an actual book anymore…thank you."
"Glad you like it." She giggled.
Relnex opened the book and blinked. His cheeks flushed and after a moment he turned the book on an angle and tilted his head, his eyebrows quivering.
"He apparently had quite a way with the ladies." Liatrix chuckled.
"So I see." Relnex gulped.
"They say if you look at the pictures long enough, something in the ink and the way they're drawn, they'll actually seem to move…like an optical illusion."
"Indeed." Relnex's face deepened from pink to florid. "I'm sure it will be very entertaining when I'm alone."
Liatrix leaned in and whispered against his earlobe. "I'd perform page three hundred and forty-seven…right here…right now. I'd just have to snap the lock on the door."
Relnex flipped the pages and gasped when he landed on the image. "Oh my. It just got a bit warmer in here didn't it?" His eyes widened, and he ran his hand over his jaw, his beard rough against his fingers.
She snickered and folded her arms.
"Oh Liatrix," he chuckled low. "The thought that I could be so desired by someone like you, buoys me in ways I can't even understand or describe…but I couldn't…It's not the Jedi—"
"—Way. See? You're still a Jedi after all. My work here is done." Liatrix brushed her palms together in a gesture of completion and laughed.
"Thank you for reminding me…and for the insight and humor."
"I'll be checking up on you. Next time, we're going to tour those gardens. I'd like you to show me around."
"I promise." He squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you came, even if it didn't seem that way at first. Your presence, was just what I needed."
"You're welcome. Remember, I'll be watching, so get to work." She wagged her finger and started for the door.
Outside she tilted her head to the door and eavesdropped. She heard him chuckle to himself and smiled.
Kira met Liatrix at the top of the stairs when she returned. "So? How'd it go?"
"Good I think. But we'll have to keep watch, make sure his spirits stay up."
"That's a good idea Master. Looks like we have a holo call."
"I'll take care of it, then I'm going to meditate. I need to be alone for a while."
"Sure thing. Rusk and I need to run another set of diagnostics anyway. Gotta make sure that thruster is still okay."
"What about the others?"
"Last I checked, Doc was looking a little too closely at one of his 'anatomy books', and Lord Scourge was doing something on his database. T-7 was helping."
"Okay." Liatrix nodded and stood before the holo console. "Liatrix here, go ahead Derrin."
"I just wanted to convey my thanks. Don't know what you said, but it's sure made a difference."
"Glad to have helped, he's a good friend. I'll be checking back in a few days. He's struggling. You'll have to keep him busy with training. I think he'll be all right, he just needs his confidence back."
"I think you might be right. Again, you have my thanks. Derrin out."
Liatrix nodded and smiled as he faded from sight. She tapped her fingertips against the console and sighed. Now…time to dig, she thought.
Inside her room, she locked the sliding door behind her and dove for the drawer containing the spike.
"Here goes nothing…" She muttered and jabbed the spike into her console. "Use voice command, display in basic and vocalize."
~Request accepted.~
"Search name…Liaseph. Display all instances."
~Scan initiated.~
Liatrix drew a deep breath. She balled her hands into fists and then splayed her fingers as she waited through the search. The image of a pale pretty brunette appeared.
"Stars…" She hissed under her breath and leaned closer to the display. She patted her own cheek, nose and lips, as she compared herself to the image before her. "I look like her…only her eyes were brown."
"Copy image to personal database. Display all information."
~Working… Request complete.~
She poured over the details and committed them to memory. Her mother's date of birth and death, the fact that she was genetically altered to produce adaptive pheromones and that she was a non-force user and mother of one biological female child, who died at age four.
"How did they die?"
~The subject and child were casualties of failed SIS mission Operation Cornerstone. Mission goal, assassination. Agent in charge: SIS Agent Aruna Var.~
"Show me Aruna Var."
The face and profile of a female blue Twi'lek appeared.
Liatrix's eyes widened. "Nanny Una…" She shivered and clasped her elbows.
~SIS Agent Aruna Var was captured, interrogated and executed by Imperial Intelligence one month after the failed operation. Genetic testing confirms the target as a paternal match to the deceased child.~
"Who was the target in Operation Cornerstone?"
~Classified.~
Liatrix scowled. "Okay, let's try another way."
"Cross reference my genetic markers with those saved in the Sith medical data base."
A progress bar appeared at the bottom of the screen. Liatrix rubbed at her hands, to work the nervous cold and stiffness out of them. A trembling rose up from the pit of her stomach and fanned higher until it shook her shoulders.
~Cross reference complete.~
"Show me the match…"
She watched as sets of genetic helixes super imposed to indicate the matching markers.
"Show image."
A powerful hooded and masked Sith lord appeared before her. "The man in my dreams."
"Identify."
~Darth Marr, Dark Council, Sphere of Defense of the Empire.~
"Image without mask."
~Unavailable.~
Liatrix sat back on her hunches and shivered.
"Save data to my personal database. Download all information pertaining to Darth Marr. Encryption code, Besh, Leth, Osk, Osk, Dora."
~Save complete~
She steepled her hands against her lips and swallowed.
The Republic murdered my mother to get to my father…and lied about me. I'm Sith. She squeezed her eyes shut.
With barely an upwards glance, Darth Marr found himself in the Kaas City Cemetery on the West side. The burial grounds were an informal boundary between the city of old, its new expansion and the jungle beyond the walls. The air was redolent of ozone and wet soil. The storms would return with the morning.
Over two decades had passed since he last visited the cemetery, but the processional path, was forever inked into his memory. He had watched the burial from afar, as if distance might somehow quell the ache he felt.
The day of the burial, the sun made a rare appearance, a fact that he had resented. Thick shafts of sunlight cut through the clouds, creating ethereal ramps to the heavens. The skies mourned every day with their rain tears, but they did not mourn with him. The beams only served to illuminate his loss and it cut him like shards of swallowed glass.
The pain awakened a vicious streak, one that could only be subdued with more death. If he had to grieve, he would not do so alone. For years the madness drove him, fueling his victories and triumphs. He was a conquering hero, feasting on triumph and adulation, but it was a meal that left him unsatisfied.
He looked upon the faces of the grief stricken, lining the parade routes and realized that he didn't want his people to suffer as he had. Instead, he wanted to shield them from it. At that moment he cast aside the conqueror and became the defender. It was then he realized that the sky hadn't dishonoured his loss, but instead, had paid him a rare tribute.
A distant cawing from the jungle brought him out of his reverie. The graves were framed by a granitite half wall, most of it smothered by knotty tangles of vine. A few moldering bouquets littered the surface of the burial plot. Using the force, he flicked them aside with a gentle backhanded swoosh.
Night would lift in a matter of hours. He set to work. Unsnapping the case, Darth Marr initiated a seeker droid, and programmed the directive. The cymbal shaped droid hovered over the grave, its spindly appendages rooting through the surface until it clamped on its target. The droid clattered and rotated as its metallic claw produced a blackened bone fragment, encased in a shielded phial.
Marr snatched the sample from the droid and set about testing it against his blood. The data pad flickered as it compared genetic markers and issued the result.
He ran the test twice more to be certain. He strangled the phial until it splintered against his glove. He felt a swell of anger build under his collar. It rose until it became a heated cushion between his flesh and his mask.
For over two decades he had believed a lie.
He packed his equipment and straightened. Turning his back on the graves, he felt lines of wet heat under his mask, and the dark side roiled around him.
The fire had not misled him. There was a child interred there, but it was not his child.
She was alive,but a Jedi.
A Jedi. He exhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes, his saber hand splaying open and then closing into a fist.
((to be continued…early this week, owing to the holidays. Happy Easter! ))