Part 37
Two days after Order 66, 19 years before the Battle of Yavin
Yanda studies the smoldering ruins of the Jedi Temple, her heart sinking at the sight of the snapped columns and shattered windows. In spite of her dismissal, she still considers it home, her whole life revolving around the Temple. With her training and the Clone Troopers' weariness from battle, she easily evades them. She slips into Council chamber, backing in as she observes a squad of troopers, only to bump something. She glances at it and gags, almost retching as she discovers the bodies of younglings, chopped to pieces. The Dark Side is stifling and the horror squeezes her vision into a tunnel. She can't look away. A hollow pit grows in her stomach only to fill with anger. Fury burns inside of her.
She doesn't know how long she stares but eventually she drags her attention away from them. She finds a console and begins searching for her lightsaber. It takes time, more than she planned but she slices it. Finally she discovers where the Council locked it away.
Far beneath the Temple, she opens a vault, and steps inside a large chamber full of drawers. Yanda notices the drawers are unmarked and realizes droids must have maintained them. Closing her eyes, she reaches out with her feelings. Immediately she senses the weapon she built, using the force and ancient techniques. She glides towards the drawer and reaches for it. Suddenly something pulls at her. JUSTICE! The feeling is more of a demand, the urge is overwhelming, and it's touched by darkness. It is not justice, it's VENGEANCE.
Blinking, Yanda jerks herself free. She reaches for the drawer holding her lightsaber and draws it forth. She ignites it, to be certain it has not been disabled. She turns to leave and even reaches the edge of the chamber…but hesitates. The feeling is still there, fainter with some distance and calling to her.
Vengeance, rooted in anger, and an obvious path to the Dark Side. Or so the Jedi Masters told her but they were the same ones that discredited her master's. If they'd lie to the Republic, what other lies had they told? What is so bad about seeking recompense when a wrong is so blatant? If that leads to the Dark Side, maybe the Dark Side is exactly what is needed.
Decades of training and tutelage argues with her, screams at her to leave the vault, she does not. She turns back to the drawers and opens one on instinct. Within lie a pair of lightsabers, curved handles stripped black and gray. She strokes one, immediately sensing their desire for revenge. Images flash in her mind while a throaty voice swears, I must have revenge! A Human male with a tattooed face falls into the arms of a gray skinned girl, her pain and fury mirroring Yanda's own. Her heart aches. It feels like losing her master a second time. The pain, the loneliness, and the helplessness burns into every fiber of her being.
"Don't move!" A Clone screams from behind her. Yanda had been so lost in her own thoughts, distracted by her feelings, that she never heard or sensed the trio of Clones arrival. "Drop your weapons! Drop them! Now!"
Yanda looks at her hands, in one her lightsaber, and in the other… She ignites the red blade, slicing through one Clone and then a second. The third raises his blaster but she slices through it before beheading him. She pockets her lightsaber and keeps hold of the new one. For a moment she idly considers taking both but disregards it. The hilt easily accommodates both of her hands, in the fighting style she prefers, although the curve feels strange. Yanda knows that's just something she'll grow comfortable with use.
She avoids the other Clones, charging through the Temple, searching for her. They're meaningless. Yanda knows what she must do. The masters lied. She will scour the universe and find the truth. She will seek out the power to gain her revenge; she will seize it no matter what it takes, and then she will return. I will become the justice the universe needs.
One month ago, five years before the battle of Yavin.
Fourth Sister marches toward the dark swathed figure, meditating before her. Six Storm troopers lie dead around her. She studies their wounds, obviously from a lightsaber, before she examines the woman. She's Human, with brown hair and pale skin, and seemingly unmoved by the fourth Sister's arrival.
"I require your robes and helmet," the woman tells Fourth Sister. "To complete my revenge, I will have to take your place. That does not necessarily mean your death."
"Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?" Fourth Sister demands, irate at her complete lack of respect and fear.
"A member of the Inquisitorius, the Imperial Inquisitors, and a former Jedi."
Fourth sister flinches, unnerved. Discipline reasserts itself. Discipline and fear, mostly fear of failure and of the consequences it holds. She reaches over her shoulder for her circular lightsaber.
"There is much we can do for each other," the woman tells her. "In my travels I have learned a great deal. If you draw your weapon, you will gain only death."
Fourth Sister swallows, "There are things far worse than death."
When reinforcements arrive, the Storm Troopers rush over to her, "Ma'am, reporting as ordered. Are there any more enemies?"
"No," she replies and motions to the dark skinned female lying motionless. "Dispose of the remains before returning to the ship."
"Yes Fourth Sister."
"You will refer to me as Lady Scythe."
"Yes ma'am."
Current date, five years before the Battle of Yavin, in the Deep Tunnels
Lady Scythe studies her lightsaber, the unremarkable silver hilt stirring old memories. No, not her lightsaber, not anymore. She replaced it much like she replaced Yanda, as she replaced the Fourth Sister. This is a temporary indignation. The young Rodian's treachery would not go without reparation. Still, it is remarkable. The girl is barely trained and her skills with the Force atrophied, she held her own against a superior opponent. She is remarkable.
I will take back my lightsaber. I will have my revenge.
"All troopers be advised," General Dunce calls over the radio. "Lady Scythe is an imposter. Arrest her upon sight!" The Imperial army troopers surrounding her freeze in place. Then their officer turns to face Lady Scythe.
She smiles and raises her hands, "I surrender."
Their breath held, the troopers sigh. Relief washes through them. Lady Scythe slams the ground with the force, unleashing a wave in all directions. They crash into the walls and pipes, shattering bodies, their armor cracks and splinters.
Regret stings her, not their death or her discovery. She's grown to appreciate having every need and desire provided to her. It was very convenient. Lady Scythe accepts the loss as simply another indignation, temporary at best.
"I'm so close," she reminds herself. "I'm so close to justice for my master."
Without another word, she reaches out with her feelings, following her instincts further into the Deep Tunnels beneath Lianna.