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Interlude - Death of Plo
Starkiller, merely a young teen who had yet to hit his growth spurt, sat on the rocky mountain peering down into the plains before him. He bit down on an apple in his mouth and chewed. It was sweet. Old memories returned to him. Ones of peace.
Ones of horror.
The landscape before him reminded him of the horror. A battle had been waged here. Some invaders had tried to take the fortress in the distance and had failed utterly. They had numbers, they had machines, but they lacked power and intelligence. Their idea was to beat their heads into the gates and pray and beg for them to open. It was a slaughter if he had ever seen one.
The invading army retreated less than five minutes ago.
A man stepped behind Starkiller. The grass under their feet wilted and the apple lost its sweetness in Nihilus' presence. Nihilus, bearing a new host, stooped down and gazed with him. "The attacker's retreated." Starkiller reported. "Just like you thought. A petty conflict between neighboring cities. About eight-thousand on the offense, but the defending side is much smaller. The idiots performed a full frontal assault with no artillery support nor air support. They very likely don't have any to begin with. What should we do?"
Nihilus raised himself to his bodies full height and thought in silence. Minutes passed, and Starkiller didn't know whether or not Nihilus would respond. Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't. Sometimes Nihilus waited days before returning to a conversation.
"It looks to be the richest city on the planet. I can smell the treasure from here."
"Since when has treasure meant anything to us?"
"Since I've had to feed you. Weapons and soldiers and supplies do cost money, even if I don't require any of it myself. And gaining an ally here should provide more loyal subjects."
That was true. Nihilus was building up his troops to continue purging Jedi in places he couldn't reach. Not that there wasn't any place he couldn't reach, but it was more efficient to purge across multiple worlds rather than one at a time, and Nihilus could only be in one place at a time. Assassins and the like did need food.
"You want to join the attackers?" Starkiller asked.
"Yes, that should prove more entertaining."
Of course there was also appeasing the Sith's boredom. He could wipe the whole world in one go, but that would hardly be as interesting. Better to let the ants squabble before unleashing doom upon them. Or they might be one of the lucky few that Nihilus finds entertaining enough to spare and return to at a later date.
"You're up. Finish eating."
Starkiller looked at his rotted apple and tossed it aside with a snarl. "I was done anyway."
"Good. We're joining the battle. Go, contact the head of the attacking army. Here is our message: Your warfare is pitiful. I can't bear to watch it. Therefore, we will come to your aid. On the morning when the fortress crumbles, we will pave the way to victory. In return, we will take a share of the spoils and a share of your surviving men. Understand? Go."
Starkiller didn't move.
"Go, Starkiller." Nihilus repeated. His tone going dangerously low.
"Guarantee a reward for me." Starkiller demanded.
Nihilus made a very human gesture. He rolled his eyes. It ticked Starkiller off because he did it on purpose because he technically didn't have the emotions people did that made them roll their eyes. "Fine, two female Twil'lek slaves and a hundred thousand credits. Not sure what you will use it all for, though."
"Are you ******** kidding me?! You know what I want, Nihilus!" Starkiller growled.
"Ohhh, you're so scary. I was just joking around." Nihilus mocked with his hands up defensively. Then his composure darkened. "But... remember. You know there is only one price I will accept."
Starkiller grit his teeth angrily. He hated it when Nihilus mocked his emotions. It wasn't just the mocking, but how Nihilus lacked emotions entirely, yet pretended to. Hence it was far more on purpose.
Starkiller bowed his head and jumped off the mountain. He sailed hundreds of feet through the air. The Force flowed around him and he landed lightly on his feet. The sudden change in air pressure made him dizzy, but a small walk would help him clear his head.
Nihilus watched his apprentice go and dropped all pretense of smirking and emotion. "Will he actually do it this time?" He wondered.
The most beautiful thing about Starkiller to Nihilus was his pretense of honor within his vengeance. He would not fight Nihilus unless it was in a true, fair, duel to the death. That was how Starkiller believed he would restore his families honor and give peace to his dead people. It was such a perfect concept for Nihilus to use. It was the best kind of chain around the boy's neck.
So they struck a deal. If Starkiller would bring him a Jedi Master's head, he would grant his wish of a duel.
It was so beautiful, because by Starkiller following the path set by Nihilus in order to supposedly kill him, he would not only fail in killing him, but would give Nihilus victory in creating the apprentice he wanted. By the time Nihilus might finally allow Starkiller to beat him in raw power, Starkiller would be so far gone he would lose what was left of his humanity and become a Sith Lord.
But the question was whether or not Starkiller would manage to go through with the deal this time. He had failed twice now to have the gall or strength to kill a Jedi Master.
Starkiller walked up to the invading camp and glanced at the emblem of a large beast on the flag overlaying the camp. He put his hands in his pockets and calmly approached the guards. "I'm a messenger..."
The guards looked at him angrily. They spoke in a language he didn't understand and pointed guns at him. He probably looked like a ruffian. He hadn't had a chance to bathe or fix his hair since they had come to this planet. It would probably be the first thing Nihilus would insist on him doing when they returned to the Ravager.
"I'm a messenger. Does anyone here speak Basic?" Starkiller asked.
The guards barked at him and each other in their foreign language and made threating gestures. Starkiller sighed. This was going nowhere.
One of the men reached out to grab him, and he reacted. He grabbed the man's middle finger, snapped it backwards; and in continuing the motion, turned the man around and pinned him against himself holding the man's broken finger hostage. He ignited his red lightsaber next to the man's neck.
It took barely a second and everyone jumped away fearfully while his hostage cried in pain and sudden fright. "I'm a messenger! Is there anyone here who can speak Basic!" Starkiller yelled into the camp.
He had killed before, but he would rather not kill this man without it being necessary. It would be a huge waste of life.
After a few tense seconds, a man ran out of the camp and was startled by what he saw. "Y-yes, I can understand you."
The guards yelled at him in their language, but he ignored them. Starkiller said, "I am here to speak to your general. I bring a message from my master."
"Then I will help you." the man said. "Let me speak for you. Just let him go."
Starkiller didn't mind that idea, but people had a tendency to be lying through their teeth. They could just as likely attack him once the man was let go. "Just so you know, I don't need a hostage to kill all of you." Starkiller warned. "Tell them."
The man nodded furiously and told them all. Apparently they believed it.
"They will not attack you."
Starkiller turned off his lightsaber and let the man go. The man cradled his broken finger tenderly like a kid who had stubbed his toe.
The translator motioned, "Shall we?"
Starkiller followed him through the camp, and all the while eyed it. The invaders were heavily wounded, fighting amongst themselves, and were left to eating scraps off the ground. This army was on its last legs. The next attack would break their morale if they didn't have victory. Barely any food. Wounded. Yeah... they wouldn't last much longer.
"I wish to apologize for back there. The men believed you to be a spy." The translator said.
"Hn." He really didn't care.
At last they came to a lavish tent and they were asked to wait a moment. A bit of hushed talking inside, and the translator said they could enter.
Inside Starkiller saw a banquet table with juicy meat, a basket full of bread, three tubs of butter, an assortment of fruits like pears and apples, a huge bowl of soup, an entire leg of lamb, tons of wine, a bowl full of eggs, a bottle of vinegar, and one very fat man sitting at it. No one else touched the food. There were three young female slaves around the fat man, all looking starved, and he looked at Starkiller like he was some kind of barbarian.
Starkiller instantly didn't like the man. He gave the message to the translator, and the translator told it after briefly hesitating.
The fat man picked up an entire rack of ribs and bit down into it while one of his slaves refilled his glass of wine. He spoke.
The translator said, "He says: You want a share of the spoils, and a number of my men? Feeling confident aren't you, boy. How many are you?"
"Two." Starkiller answered.
The translator hesitated more heavily and whispered his answer.
The fat man laughed loudly enough to make up for everyone else. Many of the guards looked at him like he was spouting myths and tales.
The translator said, "He says: Damn fools, playing at being mercenaries."
Starkiller sighed. "Even this boy can see that only attacking the front gate will result in nothing but death. You have them outnumbered, but your power is nothing compared to the gate."
The translator responded, and came back with, "He says: You're an idiot."
"Do you decline? If so, we will join the defenders to fight against you." Starkiller said factually.
This was all a game for Nihilus, so it didn't really matter which side they took, so long as Jedi died and Nihilus got some more recruits to play around with.
The soldiers in the camp drew their weapons and aimed at him. Starkiller didn't give them a glance, but stared at the large man. It was kind of boring, really. "Listen, fat ass. If I die, the same will happen. Unless my master receives a signal of confirmation he will turn on you."
The fat ass sipped his wine in thought before turning to his lamb and bread before finally giving an answer. The translator said, "He says: Very well, do as you like, but if your words are lies, I will have you killed."
Starkiller would like to see him try. It might be an amusing five seconds before the man fell on his face and died from suffocating himself with his own body weight.
Starkiller didn't give him the privilege of a bow or any sign of respect. "Can I borrow a blaster?"
A blaster was handed to him, although the entire camp was on edge with him holding it. 'I'm more dangerous with a lightsaber... idiots.' He walked to the edge of the camp, fired three times into the air, and once level with the ground before returning. "He knows. Expect victory tomorrow."
The translator said, "He says: Fail me, and I will have you executed."
Unfortunately, part of Nihilus' orders was to stay with them, so he did. Starkiller was given a tent. It was small, barely large enough for one person. He sat down and meditated. He lifted off the ground a few inches as he meditated on the Dark Side.
Movement to the side alerted him, and he ignited his lightsaber against the throat of the intruder. The slave girl stumbled back in fright and dropped food and water. 'Just a slave?' Starkiller thought.
Starkiller removed his lightsaber and helped her pick her items back up. "Here." He handed them to her, but she pushed them back.
"Fer yu. Lrd Gom asked m' to bing yu this fud." She said in a horrible accent. So she had an understanding of Basic. That made her better than those guards, despite how difficult her accent was to deal with.
Starkiller eyed the food. Bread and water. Nothing much, but simple sustenance was adequate. Part of his training involved dealing with starvation. It also taught him not to take it for granted. "Thank you." He sat on the grass and ate. She stared at him, unsure what to say to that. 'She probably had not been thanked for anything in a while.' Starkiller figured. The stare was creepy.
While he ate, he noticed the slave girl was watching him intently. "What?" He demanded.
She jumped at his tone, but responded. "Swy... Fur sum reeson... yu remin me of m'self."
Starkiller scoffed. "I'm a warrior, not a thrall. Unlike you, I don't have to eat scraps from the kitchen. I wouldn't know what it's like to be a slave... If I was you, I'd kill that fatass and run away."
She looked away shamefully. "I... culdn't... kill."
"Enjoy your life as a slave then." Starkiller chugged down the water.
The next morning the general-fatass-what's-his-name assembled his army outside the city of some-place out in the middle of nowhere, and prepared to invade. Starkiller was 'invited', quote-end-quote, to stand by him. The boy wasn't stupid enough not to notice the irregular number of guards around him poised to aim and shoot at any moment, or when general-fatass deemed it fit.
General Fatass sat in a chair, surrounded by his young girl slaves, and pointed to the city. The translator said, "He says: The city gate still stands. What kind of backup is this? Do you want to be executed? If you and your master will be of no help to me, I might as well kill you now."
Was he serious? "Just attack. You will see soon enough." Starkiller wasn't in the mood for his spouting of bull.
Considering himself all high and mighty, the general did so as if it was his own idea. The troops charged with their swords and shields and blasters and tanks. Rockets pounded the city walls, but nothing made a dent on it. Cannon fire exploded amongst the invader's ranks.
Bored, Starkiller turned his attention to the city walls. He couldn't make out anyone from this distance. "Translator, may I borrow a scope?"
The translator obliged and Starkiller brought it to his eyes. He zoomed in and scanned across the battlements of the defenders. "Who is leading the defense?" He asked.
The translator brought up a picture on his holopad. "Jehdi, Ploh Choohn." He said.
"His name is Plo Koon." Starkiller corrected off handedly, barely paying attention. He memorized every detail of the Jedi in question. He knew already who was defending, but he had not seen a visual yet. The information gathered by Nihilus' spies missed that piece of information. Now he knew what to look for.
"Ah."
Starkiller turned his attention back to the battlements and scanned across them slowly. Plo Koon was an alien. Starkiller didn't know exactly what the species was called, or looked like till now. All he knew was a lot of weaknesses to exploit and strengths to avoid. The alien's three fingered hands made them less dexterous and have a difficult grip, but they had tough skin and a slightly bigger muscle mass than humans. Not much, but enough to make a difference in a death match. The skin wouldn't stop a lightsaber, but lightning would do slightly less than otherwise.
The biggest weakness was the face mask. They breathed different air then humans.
"Damnit." Starkiller cursed. The Jedi was not on the front lines. Did the Jedi suspect Sith participation and wanted to avoid notice? Was he busy elsewhere? Starkiller could sense the Jedi in the general vicinity of the city, but the Jedi was suppressing himself. He didn't want to be found.
Well, if he couldn't find the Jedi. He would have to force the Jedi out of hiding.
Without warning, Starkiller dove out of the ranks of the back guards. The general yelled about betrayal and ordered him to be shot, but by the time anyone could realize what had happened, and listened to the order, and raised their gun, he was long gone in the ranks of the invaders. He was a teenager with Force steroids. He moved like the wind, and many of the soldiers in the back watching him could barely follow him with his eyes. He disappeared amidst the ranks of the army and a moment later was near the front line.
The city's defenses lied in a giant wall, with a gate, surrounded by a deep moat and a bridge. The moat and bridge were twenty meters long.
Starkiller reached the edge of the moat and leaped. Lightning crackled across his body and left a trail of electricity in the air as he flew. The lightning wove itself like threads of thin rope around his fingers, and he drove his lightning claws into the wall.
The invading general gaped. He didn't notice one of the slaves drop a plate. "He made it..." The translator murmured in disbelief. The Sith teen had jumped twenty meters and was climbing up the side of the massive wall with his bare hands.
Starkiller's claws were less than silent, and as he neared the top, some of the defenders looked down to see what the crackling sound was. He cut their throats with a swipe of his hand, leaped up, and whipped out a whip of lightning across everyone around him, cleaving them in half. Like a bloody engine of single-minded destruction and death, he moved from one person to the next on his path across the wall. Their armor, shields, and swords were nothing to his blades of pure lightning, and with a Force Push he cleared a hole in their defenses. Defenders flew into the air and landed... somewhere else.
When they fired on him, he whipped out his lightsaber to block. His claws were effective in close range, perhaps even more so than his lightsaber, but it left him exposed to laser bolts.
Starkiller neared one of the cannons on the side of the wall, kicked it around, and fired it at the defenders.
A guttural cry alerted him, and he barely evaded a strike from a soldier from behind. Making short work of him, Starkiller continued his momentum. He drew his lightsabers and the defenders realized fearfully what they were dealing with. He stopped paying attention after that. One after another, they were faceless people in his way who would kill him if he left them an opening, or gave them time to make one. He moved faster than they could track and didn't stop until he reached a dead end. He turned to see he had killed nearly a hundred defenders and had cleared this side of the wall. He was near another cannon, so he hit some keys, turned it back around towards the city, and let it fire.
It was at this time that Nihilus decided to make his appearance. Like a massive typhoon of black water, he swept from the back of the invaders, sparing them, and hit the walls of the defending city like a rock slide. He slammed into the walls, cracking them, and the gates imploded. Nihilus swept into the city a short distance to consume any defenders just inside the gate before retreating to let the invaders do as they wanted.
To Nihilus, this was more about Starkiller's achievement than satisfying his hunger. For today.
Starkiller watched as all this happened and observed the city. The cannons he had taken brought down the thinner skyscrapers quickly, and left gaping holes in the thicker ones. The invaders flooded this district and left few alive.
If there was a Jedi here, he wouldn't stand for what was happening.
So Starkiller waited. He openly exposed himself through the Force, like a beacon, daring the Jedi to do the same. Forcing the Jedi to choose between self-preservation, and selfless sacrifice. If the Jedi did one, he would become a hypocrite like all the rest. If he did the other, Starkiller would kill him. Either way, he won.
Starkiller didn't take pleasure in it. If anything, it was a waste. He recognized the Jedi did well, but they were weak. They were hypocrites. They chose to focus their attention on little things like orphans and beggars, when the real problems were people like Nihilus being allowed to move about freely. What was a few beggars and orphans compared to entire worlds being consumed? The Jedi did nothing about Nihilus, so Starkiller had to do it for them. And if killing one or two Jedi was the price it took to finally end Nihilus...
There was no question. It was the only way. It was almost gratifying ending these cowards who willingly allow such problems to fester. Not that Starkiller had yet to kill a Jedi. He had always been too... weak. Too merciful. He saw them still as people who at least tried to do good. Nihilus never allowed the captured Jedi to live, and Starkiller saw that capturing them was a waste of time. A waste of life, a waste of time.
So this time he would kill the Jedi. He would face Nihilus in a death match. Nihilus would die.
The galaxy... his people... they would be saved. Their souls and phantoms would be given peace. And Starkiller could disappear into the shadows knowing he did better than all of these Jedi combined.
The Jedi did not disappoint. He stopped suppressing his Force signature to aid actively in the defense, and Starkiller darted in his direction.
Starkiller expected to find the Jedi surrounded by the bodies of invaders, but instead the Jedi Master had chosen to expose himself through the Force... over a wounded man.
Starkiller stepped forward, covered himself in his hood to avoid exposure to cameras, and waited. The Jedi knew of his approach, but did not leave the person before him he was healing. Starkiller didn't make any moves, but stood there waiting.
"Are you done?" Starkiller asked.
The Jedi glanced up at him. The alien saw the dark side in Starkiller's eyes, but also was visibly surprised Starkiller was not immediately jumping his throat. "Nearly," the Jedi stated. Starkiller frowned, but waited.
The Jedi finished healing the man after a short time, and moved the man into the waiting arms of some defenders nearby. "Leave us," the Jedi ordered. The defenders argued against it, but Plo Koon repeated it, and ignited his green saber.
"Thank you for waiting." The Jedi nodded thankfully.
"Killing him with you would have been a waste of life." Starkiller stated.
The Jedi tilted his head to the side. "Odd to feel so much darkness, hatred, and power in one so young... Before we fight... May I ask a question?"
Starkiller considered it briefly. He was growing impatient. His energies were building in anticipation. The Jedi was taller than him, and very strong in the force. It would take everything he had to defeat the man, and his body naturally knew that. It was building itself up to its full strength, and the adrenaline left him shaky and so ready he could barely hold himself back.
He could attack, but the Jedi seemed to recognize that Starkiller's appearance would result in battle whether he fled or fought, and the Jedi apparently was obliging enough not to be a coward about it all. He would fight. There was no retreat.
Starkiller could allow him one question. "Ask."
"It is unlike Sith to spare innocents. Why did you let me heal him, and not just as a 'waste of life'?"
"... Killing you while you are occupied would have meant nothing for me. I would have achieved nothing. Killing you while you are trying to kill me, defending yourself, and unleashing your true power; and proving my strength and my determination to be greater? That means something."
"An honorable fight." Plo Koon recognized with a nod. He took up his fighting stance. "Then let us see whose determination is greater."
Starkiller grinned wildly and gave his strength, his power, his energy release. His body was shaking with the need to move and fight, and like a recoiled snake, he sprung.
The fight proved to be the most difficult Starkiller had ever had, and would have for years. Plo Koon was stronger, more experienced, and could throw off his greatest strikes and powers like they were toys. Every moment was a second where Starkiller had to force himself to be greater than he was yesterday, stronger than he was five minutes ago, faster than he was a moment ago. His force usage needed to be more rapid, more unpredictable, less easy to knock aside or evade or block entirely.
At some point in the battle, Plo Koon's mask was knocked off his face and he collapsed on the ground gasping for breath in an atmosphere he could not breathe. Starkiller was wounded heavily. His chest and legs were bleeding. They were both nearing exhaustion and were hurt heavily. Plo Koon was covered in blood from where Starkiller's lightning claws cut him.
Starkiller could reach over and end his life. Plo Koon was slowly losing consciousness from lack of his 'special air'. Instead, he picked up the Jedi's mask and tossed it to him. Out of reflex more than conscious thought, the Jedi desperately fastened it to his face. He took in deep breathes.
"Why?" The Jedi coughed.
"I want you at your strongest." Starkiller swayed. He was barely able to stay conscious... His vision was blurry and faded in and out.
Slowly, Plo Koon stood to his feet. He lost balance and nearly feel backwards, but straightened and assumed an exhausted fighting stance. Starkiller shook his head fiercely to shake away the fog clogging up his senses and assumed his own fighting stance.
In the end, Starkiller won. Plo Koon laid on the ground dying, no longer with the strength or power to even heal himself. Starkiller, equally exhausted, but not dying, stood over him and watched. He attentively listened to every breathe. He remembered every detail of the battle and put it to memory. He was proud, of himself, of his power, of his growth, and knew he had grown greatly in the last half hour or so. He would have Plo Koon's lightsaber as a prize to present Nihilus, and he would end Nihilus. Plo Koon had given him a gift of vengeance, of growth, and of an unusual respect rather than outright spite. The least Starkiller would offer was stand and give his last breathes his undivided attention. The Jedi's mouth piece moved slightly in whisper, as if praying. Suddenly, he asked, "Where will your path end... Sith?"
Unprepared for his question, Starkiller said nothing at first. "I... don't know." He would kill Nihilus, but after that? He had no idea. There was no one that would take in a Sith apprentice with open arms. He was doomed to death and loneliness the day he was kidnapped.
Master Plo!" Some girl yelled.
Who the hell was she? Starkiller had half a mind to use the Force and toss her aside. He instantly recognized her as a Jedi, but she was so weak it was laughable. Even exhausted and half-conscious as he was, he could kill her easily, and like some idiot, she was running in their direction.
"HOLD, AHSOKA!" The dying Jedi Master yelled. She stopped in her tracks. So her name is Ahsoka? What a weird name. Whoever named her has issues. How do you even spell that? Is it pronounced Ahzoka or Asakah?
Master Plo turned his weary head back to Starkiller. He coughed harshly, and forced himself to speak loudly enough for him to hear, "She is my Padawan... she is young, impressionable, and with a good heart. She has an innocence I would die to protect. Please... spare her this horror. She has nothing to do with this."
Starkiller had nothing against her, but didn't need witnesses from Jedi. That would be trouble.
"You've… already won." Plo coughed hoarsely. "I ask it... as my last request."
"No…" Ahsoka whispered in growing horror.
"Interesting." Starkiller mused. "You could be using your last breathe for meditation, transcending, desperate healing, or even striking back at me. Yet you use it to beg?" It felt good having him beg. He was praying one moment, and was now horrified with the idea of this girl being dead more than anyone else here.
Plo Koon opened his eyes slowly. He was in a clear daze, but still managed to stay conscious with blood seeping from where the lightning claws ripped his chest open. "Such is… compassion. If losing… my pride… saves someone I care about… it is a good… trade."
Starkiller stared at him. Compassion... He closed his eyes. Compassion was a weakness. It held him back. But then he could argue, 'not it doesn't', because Starkiller had just proven he was ruthless enough, and strong enough, to kill a Jedi Master.
Killing this Jedi Padawan would bring no growth, no gratification, no meaning. It would be a waste of life and his time. So... what was the point in killing her? "Very well."
"Thank… you." Plo Koon closed his eyes.
"MASTER!" The girl ran to his side and held him. He wasn't dead yet, but whether it be a blessing or curse, he saved that part for the seconds after she was close enough to feel death ripple through his body. He drew his last breathe. "No…"
Starkiller reached out and drew Plo Koon's lightsaber to himself. He snapped it to his belt, turned and walked away.
"YOU BASTARD!" The girl rushed him from behind.
She was not near as honorable as her master it seemed...
Starkiller turned, grabbed her throat with the Force, and lifted her off the ground. Immediately she struggled against his grip rather than try to go after him again. "I am sparing your life because your Master found it worth his own. If you wish to die a useless death, go ahead and try again. But if you truly wish to kill me… then" An idea came to him. She was impressionable. The damage was already done. She saw death, and would hate him. Just like how he hated Nihilus.
Where will your path end?
It would end with vengeance. Starkiller would leave behind an avenger to hunt him down after he was done with Nihilus and end it. Starkiller, even as a teenager, recognized how dark and evil he could become after he had his vengeance and no longer had a true focus for his hatred. He would need to be stopped... and he doubted he would have the self-control to go into self-exile. People would hunt him down one way or another, but rather than have to deal with weak assassins, Starkiller would ensure there are avengers strong enough to end his path.
"Hate me." Starkiller ordered. "Despise me. Train yourself to be stronger than I, and seek me out. Then we will see if you are worthy enough to end my path." Starkiller dropped her and she fell gasping for breath and coughing. Content with that, Starkiller turned to leave once more.
"I hate you." She hissed. Good. "I hate you so much, so much so, that... that I refuse."
Starkiller stopped and was struck dumb by the sheer stupidity of the statement. That made absolutely no sense. He turned to look at her.
She continued, "I refuse! You want to turn me into a monster no better than you! Well, your mechanism and scheme won't work! You want me to fight you! Fine! Then I will do the one thing you cannot accept… I will not become you! My greatest revenge will be… that I'll forgive you."
He saw in her eyes real hatred and rage. But not just for him, but for what he stood for. Somewhere deep inside, something broke and he had to push down the distant feeling of guilt creeping in. She would forgive him? Did she have even the slightest idea how many he had killed in his life? Did she know of the plots and schemes surrounding him on a daily basis?
No. That is impossible. If she had a glimpse of it, she would realize how dumb that idea is. Some people are beyond forgiveness. Not necessarily because they are in darkness, but because they are driven to continuing down the predetermined path even deeper into darkness, into a place where forgiveness does not exist. By the very laws of downhill momentum, you can't turn around.
The idea sounded pleasant, but it was a dream. Just as much a mirage of hope that existed like the hallucinations of his family he used to have. He could still hear his mother's songs in his ear if he tried. That's all it was. It was... it was nothing more than wishful thinking.
"Your forgiveness is wasted on me…"
Starkiller returned to the Ravager. As usual, he was confined to his portion of the ship when Nihilus had visitors. The ship's little droids surrounded him and comforted him, but right now Starkiller didn't want their animalistic perception of tender mercy. He was nearly through. He needed to be mentally ready.
Starkiller slept, and woke to find that General Fatass had come through on the promise of supplying a portion of his troops in return for the city. He had tried to keep all the credits, but Nihilus got what he wanted anyway. Starkiller watched as Nihilus went through his inventory. The credits would go a long way towards maintaining his army for... whatever Nihilus was planning. He was apparently donating towards some research that would be beneficial in his fight against the Jedi. Starkiller didn't know what it was, and he didn't care.
In the room, assembled, were everyone Nihilus had gained into his army. Starkiller watched from the rafters as Nihilus looked at each one personally. Starkiller couldn't help but smirk when he saw the general Fatass had dumped the slave he met on Nihilus as well. That would be pleasant if he was allowed to have a servant he could talk with and knew-
Nihilus deemed the ones unfit to be... unfit and consumed them, including the slave girl. Their brief screams echoed through the ship, and those Nihilus chose not to consume were left in stony horror, afraid to move or think as Nihilus swept through the room.
Starkiller sighed. What a waste of life. He felt pity for her. The only reason Nihilus considered her a waste of resources was because of her treatment under that bastard general left her in that weak condition. Even if she wasn't a soldier or could do numbers or work a ship, didn't mean she couldn't at least help clean up this dump of a ship or be someone to talk to besides just Nihilus every stinking day.
Starkiller returned to his quarters to meditate and continue healing himself. He would present his prize to Nihilus and claim his right for a duel, but only after he was better. Starkiller looked around his training room and noted the shelves. They were all empty.
He placed his first trophy on the shelf.
