CHAPTER 10
The Leviathan
"Everywhere the human soul stands between a hemisphere of light and another of darkness; on the confines of the two everlasting empires, necessity and free will."
ISD Valkyrie, 14 BBY
Medical Bay
"Why haven't you said anything?"
Trilla didn't have an answer for that question, or why she had even walked into Effa's room in the first place. She had simply appeared at her door, much to her counterpart's joy, walked in and sat down in the same chair she had before. Since, she had let Effa express whatever thoughts she had bouncing off her dual personality and proceeded to rub the palm of her gloved hand with her thumb…something she hadn't done since she was a Jedi.
"Blaze died," Trilla finally revealed.
Effa didn't react much at all, aside from turning over in her bed, propping up her head with her fist to get a proper look at her visitor.
"That's like saying it rained on Kamino."
She bit back a retort, not in the mood to argue with the likes of two people within one brain. "I killed him."
"You…you did?" Effa's face turned to sadness and despair, before just as suddenly snapping into a sadistic smirk. "Did you have an armor cam active? I want to see!"
Trilla just didn't answer her, knowing it would save her a lot of breath. "Effa…there's something about me you don't understand, and I'm sorry to admit that in your current state even less so."
Effa blew air through her mouth like a torrent, flopping onto her back like a spoiled child. "I guess I'll just lay here until my next meds are due, twirling my thumbs…ugh I would kill for a couple of insurgents to interrogate right now!"
Honestly, Trilla could go for a change of pace as well. Her chase after Cal Kestis had only resulted in repeated failure and dogmatic doubt in her own abilities…all in the pursuit of what? If she had succeeded in capturing some meaningless padawan she had stumbled upon on Bracca, what would it matter?
They'd just tell her to return to her crap assignments from before.
Since Zeffo, she had placed her focus solely on making Cere pay for betraying her, and in the process, she had forgotten what the catalyst to her imbalance in the first place had been. Cal Kestis was just a child with a lightsaber, a weak instrument to her revenge against her former master.
And yet, what would truly bring her back into balance was gone; disappeared without a trace. Xur Eon had somehow escaped her focus, and in that, she had lost him, perhaps forever. She had no idea if he was dead, captured or something else. All Trilla did know was who was responsible…and she had no idea what the First Sister could possibly have planned for him.
Internally, she felt it…the need to pursue him…the desire.
You are mine.
Trilla's teeth grit, feeling herself snap back into place, her eyes gloss over and reprogram themselves…until the opening of the door pulled her out.
Vorchenko walked in, her eyes squarely on Trilla. "Inquisitor. I insist you come with me immediately."
"Awww," Effa whined. "The Admiral always ruins all the fun."
Shaking herself out of her trance, she rose to her feet. "What is it?"
Vorchenko's eyes darted to the left, towards the door, and it didn't take Trilla long to understand her point. The two of them left Effa back to her solitude, free from her prying ears. Officers nearly plowed into her as they came into the hall, and she could sense that something unusual was occurring.
"Admiral?" she asked.
"We need to prepare you," Vorchenko insisted, grabbing ahold of her upper arm to pick up the pace. "Quickly."
"Admiral," Trilla stopped, forcing her to do so as well. "Enough dodging."
"Would you prefer to displease Lord Vader?" she maintained her firm grip, her blue-violet eyes piercing through Trilla's own gale. The inquisitor only swallowed hard, her throat sucking itself dry at the mere mention of his name. "I thought not. Now follow me."
The inquisitor complied, and in the Force, she felt that chilling cold that had followed the monster of her worst nightmares.
Vader was coming here.
Ziost, 14 BBY
Unknown
Xur awoke, his eyes fluttering open to seeping sunlight through thin drapes, a cool breeze flowing through the room. Never before had he felt so relaxed, and he only found himself sinking deeper into the mattress. His aches became soothing, leading to a growing smile across his face.
Someone groaned and shuffled on the other side of the bed, and he rolled over, his arms wrapping around them tightly. The woman stirred, grunting somewhat at his sudden touch.
"Good morning," he greeted, burying his nose in her black hair.
Trilla moaned with pleasure as he kissed her neck, eventually rolling over to face him. "Good morning."
Her unblemished face and jade-green eyes brought an ease to the zabrak he could never put into words, and he couldn't resist pressing his lips against hers in a moment of pure bliss.
Trilla bit her lip once they pulled away. "You're awfully lively this morning."
Xur shrugged. "Strategic planning with imbeciles will do that to you."
She smiled and giggled. "I warned you about politicians. They only commit to anything if it's a sure victory. No tactical ability whatsoever."
The zabrak groaned, rolling over to face the ceiling. "Sometimes I just want to…throw it all out and start over."
Trilla shrugged herself. "I guess you could turn that HK droid of yours against them."
"Are you kidding me? He'd slaughter them, and any other sorry bastard in the room," Xur shook his head. "That's more like 'clean slate'."
She giggled again, inching towards him as he continued to stare at the ceiling, his thoughts elsewhere at the moment. Tenderly, she let her hand glide along his side and up to his chest, rising goosebumps of pleasure through him.
"I love it when you're here…with me," she said.
He turned to face her, losing himself in her eyes once more. "I'm sorry I can't be…please don't hate me for it."
Trilla shook her head, placing her hand on his cheek. "I've never hated you, Xur."
Xur's arms were wrapped tightly around a body as he awoke, but much to his dismay, it was merely a bundle of sheets. In the moment of realization that what he experienced was only a dream, his heart fell, and he could only reach out to the cold, unoccupied sheets beside him. Trilla was there…and they were in the same bed…together, not trying to murder each other. It was almost crueler for his subconscious to make him experience such a thing, just to take it away, perhaps forever.
He didn't even know if she was still alive, or any of them for that matter.
Why was he in bedsheets?
"What the…" he mumbled to himself, shuffling through the bed as his surroundings began to sink in. "fuck?"
Xur had awoken in a bedroom, extravagant at that, with expensive and no doubt valuable pieces of furniture arranged around it. The color scheme was mostly deep blues and occasional violets, while everything else was either a dark gray or black. All of it was throwing him for a loop…where in the galaxy was he?
Even his clothes were different than he remembered, best described as dark Jedi robes, instead of the mining or scrappers uniform he had been wearing…he wasn't sure what Cal had given him.
The zabrak rolled off the bed and stood, his light boots sinking into the thick rug below him. Aside from lying back in bed, the only other viable option he had was to approach the lone door…and he did. His hand reached for his saber hilt, but there was nothing, and immediately he had felt more naked than ever before. Never had he gone anywhere without his lightsaber.
Tentatively, he grasped the knob, but he felt an undeniable unease at the absence of his weapon, something he wasn't used to.
Who was he kidding? He had the Force.
With renewed confidence, superficial or not, he turned the knob and rolled into a hallway, hands raised in a combat stance, only to find that no one was there. Judging by the continued surroundings, he was beginning to believe he was in someone's home.
Xur tiptoed his way through the hall, trying his best to make as little noise as possible, before finding a living room beyond a corner, in which he took cover behind. Sensing no one in the room, he quickly turned and dashed through the hallway.
He was tripped up as soon as he entered the living room, readjusting his fall with a roll, and spun around to face where the disturbance came from.
"If you're quite finished letting the entire planet know you're sneaking around, I suggest you have a seat," a masked woman, who he somewhat recognized, suggested, her hands behind her back.
Xur was dumbfounded. "How did I not sense you here?"
"Ah…did you really stretch your feelings, or were you so consumed with your lust for combat that you had blinded yourself to a much closer threat?"
That voice…now he remembered. Now he remembered everything.
He rose to his feet in a challenging stance, only to be forced onto his rear with a quick wave of her hand. "Again, you are not listening. Do not allow your ignorance to grant you needless pain like before."
The zabrak's head drooped slightly, remembering what she had been able to do to him in such a short time. Never before had he been…taken apart so easily. There wasn't even much of a fight…just him, writhing on the floor in pain as her lightning scorched his body.
If she was offering him an out, he felt it smart for him to take it.
Xur sighed, resigning to his seat on the rug he had fallen to. "Fine. I guess it's obvious you're more powerful than I am."
"It is not defeat to admit such a thing, but power is not the correct perspective," the First Sister paced around him. "There are very few beings in the galaxy that are more powerful than you, and I am not one of them," she admitted, proceeding to sit cross-legged across from him. "It is a matter of knowledge of the Force, and I've had years longer to perfect it than you."
Xur scoffed. "I'm not in the mood for your gloating. If you're going to torture me, let's just get on with it."
"Your grasp of this situation is truly appalling if you believe I've brought you here just to inflict pain upon you," she replied, her back straight and posture near perfect. "The practice of torture is an act for those that are insecure with themselves and feel the need to lessen the dignities of those greater than them. You should not fear beings of such pathetic lack of vision, nor should you bring that assumption upon me."
He shrugged. "Then why am I here?"
"To continue what we started," she answered. "To finish your training."
"Training?" he questioned, stifling another witty comment, as to avoid a lash of lightning. "I'm not an inquisitor."
"And neither am I," she revealed. "I never was. My only purpose was to find you…and now that I have, the Inquisitorious no longer is of use to me."
"The Empire will come for you. They don't take kindly to deserters."
The First Sister let out a deep chuckle. "If they could not find me there, they certainly won't find me here."
Hands down, this was perhaps the strangest woman he had ever met, but despite his reservations, he could not detect a single lie. However, for all he knew, she could project to him whatever she liked, and he wouldn't know any better. To trust her would be risky at best, but besides attempting escape, he didn't find himself with much choice.
Her confidence in defying the Empire…was admittedly enticing, not to mention her backbone to nonchalantly wave off Darth Vader himself.
"Who are you?"
She sighed, disappointedly. "Still, you demand the simple answer, but you do not search for it," her response was somewhat frustrated, which at least informed Xur that she cared. "Have all your previous masters held your hand this way?"
Xur gulped, admittedly conceding a point well made. "My Jedi Master was…direct, to say the least."
"Ah, a true assessment. Mace Windu was never one for his discretion, nor his awareness of his surroundings," she noted.
The zabrak narrowed his eyes, but before he asked another question that she would surely not answer, he tried putting the pieces together. "So, I'm guessing you've been… 'around the block', even before the Purge."
She tipped her head. "At last, some insight. Yes, that is correct, Xur Eon. But enough about my past, let us end this circular interrogation."
Of course, right when he thought he was getting somewhere.
"Whatever," Xur conceded. "Your house, your rules, I guess."
"Indeed. Close your eyes."
He paused. "What? Why?" Her frustration sparked, and he shut his eyes quickly. "Alright, alright, fine."
"Be silent," she commanded, her voice all he could hear. "Now tell me: in the Throne Room, why would you react in such a violent way after experiencing an event from your past?"
Xur grumbled. "My past is full of shitty things I'd rather not remember."
She snorted. "I assume that your crude adjective refers to traumatic."
He was hesitant to answer. His life before becoming a Jedi, while only a short few years, was as unstable as it got, and there were images that had branded themselves in his brain, despite it being two decades since. Those images…were comparable to the crimson blade through Trilla's chest…from a traumatic standpoint, as his mysterious new mentor had put it.
"Wipe the fear from your mind," she whispered, although projected in his mind. He naturally resisted, and she psychically knocked him back on his ass. "Listen to me, Eon. If you cannot face your past, then you shall never fully actualize your future."
Xur sighed…and against his better judgment, surrendered to her.
"Good. Now, follow me."
ISD Valkyrie, 14 BBY
Command Bridge
Trilla couldn't stop the occasional shudder that ravaged her stance beside Admiral Vorchenko, and she was beginning to care even less about the outlook the longer she stood there…waiting for the inevitable. She envied the Admiral's ease of stance, or just ease that she was able to project, but she knew no one on this bridge had experienced what she had at the hands of their guest.
"Pull up your chin," Vorchenko whispered, her voice coming in through Trilla's audio receptors. The Admiral's idea of preparedness was to reacquire her inquisitor helmet and brandish a new cape, as to present the Dark Lord with an inquisitor that hadn't changed. Of course, what she failed to realize was visual presentation hardly mattered to a monster such as this.
"I do not need your…advice," Trilla silently cursed to herself for being unable to finish her sentence without a stutter.
"This is my ship, Inquisitor," she insisted. "Your intense fear is unnecessary, and if Lord Vader was simply coming here to kill you, he would've met us in the hangar bay. The Dark Lord fancies his time."
It was a…fair point…that didn't afford her much comfort. She had still failed to capture Kestis, Lord Vader's own command, according to the Grand Inquisitor, and his unusual presence never boded well for anyone.
"Just follow my lead," the Admiral directed, and Trilla simply nodded…until the cold shiver wafted through the Force like the winds of winter.
Across the command strip, the turbolift door opened, and out stepped Darth Vader, his constant expressed breathing instilling all deck officers to turn in acknowledgment. Even the death troopers stationed at the right and left ends of the bridge stood at attention as his boots clanged against the durasteel flooring.
It was like reliving everything all over again. Trilla could hardly contain herself, but she did her best to maintain at least a believable posture.
"Admiral Vorchenko," he greeted, his deep, dark voice clawing at the deepest reaches of Trilla's soul.
Vorchenko tipped her head. "Lord Vader."
When his soulless and mechanical gaze came to Trilla, her head fell out of instinct, and her eyes were only graced with his boots.
"Second Sister," his voice projected with a growl, and he forced herself to look up. "You have a great many things to explain."
Trilla stammered. "M-my apologies, my lord. I promise you that-," she gasped as she was suspended in the air, her throat closing on its own.
"The Padawan Cal Kestis is still at large, thanks to your ineptitude and obvious imbalance," he said as she clawed at her throat. "Clearly you require reconditioning."
Trilla's already bulging eyes widened in fear behind her helmet.
"Lord Vader," Vorchenko intervened. "Unless you wish to explain yourself to Moff Tarkin, I would release her."
Vader merely turned his head, still holding Trilla in his grasp.
"She is aboard my ship and has proved herself a valuable asset. Should you dispose of her, an audience may be brought forward-."
"There will be no need," Vader cut her off, releasing Trilla, and she fell to her knees, sucking in wholesome breaths of air. "Nor is there a need for your…" he stepped towards the Admiral in a menacing stance, towering above her. "…dangerous tone."
Vorchenko met his gaze. There was a reservation to the Sith Lord that she had never experienced within him…as if he himself was restrained. "If you are not here to dispense punishment, then may I ask why you have come aboard?"
Trilla could feel the anger and annoyance bursting from Vader as she remained on her knees, her fear planting her there, and she wondered how much longer the Admiral had to live.
"The Emperor has commanded…" Vader's gaze fell to Trilla. "…her presence on Coruscant. I am to escort you both. Moff Tarkin wishes to speak to you, Admiral, in person."
The inquisitor gasped, finally able to catch her breath. "His majesty has requested…me, my lord?" she asked.
"He would not reveal why," Vader answered, his thumbs sliding behind his belt. "Nor do I understand. As far as I can see, your usefulness has come to an end."
She trembled.
Vorchenko's gaze hadn't left Vader. "Very well. We shall depart at your command, my lord."
"We leave immediately," he replied, turning with a flap of his cape. "We shall not keep my master waiting."
Of all days…namely the one that should've been Trilla's last still living…the Emperor wished to meet with her.
What could he possibly want with a failed inquisitor?
Ziost, 14 BBY
Unknown
He is strong…we cannot allow him to be wasted with the likes of the Jedi Order.
All you've ever cared about is power! He doesn't need to be a weapon! The Jedi can teach him how to control the darkness within him.
Control the darkness? You are a fool, Osiris…blind and stupid! The Jedi either run or ignore darkness, they do not face it.
Shhh! He's coming.
Mama…Dad? What's going on?
Nothing, my beautiful child. Your father and I are just having a discussion.
Go back to bed, son.
Back to bed…
"No," Xur opened his eyes, rising to his feet. "We're not doing this."
The First Sister made no movement to force him to continue, which surprised him. Instead, she maintained her cross-legged posture, her mask no revealing if her own eyes were closed.
"If you do not face your past, you will never realize your true potential," she warned, her head eventually facing him. "This moment we keep revisiting…it is traumatic for you, as you say, because you were young. It changed your life forever and set you on the path you walk even to this day…a warpath of combat, excitement…lust; all things that help us forget what we do not wish to remember."
Xur grumbled. Every word this woman spoke cut deeper into barriers he thought had been filled, and it only frustrated him the more he felt outmatched by her.
"You can see all this just by reading me?" he asked.
"In a way…" she trailed off. "Your defenses are formidable, but it is merely your raw power in the Force. Those who are only maintained by their talents have slippery foundations, and adversaries with extensive experience find little trouble exposing that weakness."
She rose to her feet, approaching him. "You also wear your emotions on your sleeve, as it were. Difficult to read for someone less trained, but not for someone with-,"
"Experience," Xur finished for her. "It really does outrank everything, doesn't it?"
The First Sister tipped her head. "A true metaphor, for what I am trying to teach you. That will be enough for today. We shall start again tomorrow."
She turned away, but he reached out. "Wait. Where are we?"
He almost bit his tongue for asking, but she paused, giving him half her head. "The planet Ziost. It is a dead world of the Sith, and its cloak hides us from our enemies. This here is my home…and now, it is yours."
"I can't stay here," Xur implored. "I've got my own mission I can't walk away from."
"You mean involving this?" she presented a spherical artifact in her hand, pulled from behind her caped veil. "The Zeffo Astrium?"
"You have it?" Xur reached out, but she pulled it away.
"You must earn such things," she denied. "Consider it a reason for you to listen."
He grit his teeth. "Look, that artifact is the key to stopping the Empire…your enemies as you put it…and Cal-."
"Has abandoned you," she answered before he could continue. "You have wasted enough time with that one, and you should not concern yourself with fallen padawans and broken masters."
He clenched his fist. "How dare you. You have no idea what either of them have gone through."
"What I do know is this: Cere Junda was master to one of the only known Jedi who could use the rare and powerful force healing technique, and she surrendered her to the Empire. After the Purge, Trilla Suduri is now the last of her breed…and she now walks a dangerous path that could put the fate of the galaxy itself in her hands."
Xur took a step back, intrigued. "What do you mean?"
The First Sister was not quick to answer, and he detected anxiety within her for the first time. "While you were incapacitated, there was a disturbance in the Force…a wound. In a moment of psychotic urge and rabid anger, Suduri conjured what the Jedi refer to as a Death Field. It is a power not wielded for nearly four millennia, not since a Sith Lord born with her same power began consuming whole planets."
He almost scoffed. "You mean Darth Nihilus? Trilla could never become that."
"That perception shows how little you understand the power she now wields," she pointed out. "Unchecked, her deadly new power will grow until she herself is consumed by it, and in turn she will become a slave to a hunger never sated."
She stepped forward, her slight height advantage slanting her head downwards. "If she cannot be turned from this path…then she must be eliminated."
Xur's eyes widened. Never did he ever believe that Trilla's gift could result in such a perversion. What she could do had been the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed as a Jedi…the power to heal lethal wounds with the brush of her hand…but the Empire…but Vader had corrupted her…so much to the point that now her gift had become a weapon.
He wanted to kill them…he wanted to kill them all. Trilla would never reach this dark fate, and this he promised.
"I won't let that happen," he vowed.
The First Sister only stared. "Then you must listen to me. In order to defeat the Sith, you must understand them…and through me, I can teach you to become one. Only then will you have the power to defeat your enemies…and save Suduri before she unleashes her wrath upon the galaxy."
There was almost no hesitation within him now. He could feel it. His destiny lied with this woman, and only she had the knowledge he needed to begin his fight against the Empire.
Xur Eon knelt before her. "Teach me."
Short chapter, I know, but it was necessary. I needed it to get this story back on track, and you can thank the extremely informative review left for the last chapter. I also may be making subtle changes to certain chapters here and there. Anything major, and I will be sure to let you know.
I have also decided to make this story officially a standalone, disconnected from my series. This is because I think this just stands so far above any of my previous works that it should not be restrained by them. As a result, one major change will be to the prologue, as I will cut out the scenes from the future. If you are a later reader, and have no idea what I'm talking about, then no worries for you.
Thanks for the incredible support thus far. This story has hit 3,000 views in a month and a half, and it has inspired me to press on with a fervor even I didn't know I had.
As it has shown, your feedback is important and carefully considered. If you feel something is out of place, or doesn't make any sense, please feel free to let me know. Of course, please don't just tell me "this thing sucks" and not why, otherwise there's nothing I can do to accommodate you.
Thanks for reading, and I will be back soon with more for you all!
