Symmetry and Imperfection

Part 19

~

Vader wondered idly how long it had been since these so-called Jedi had sparred against anyone other than themselves. His current annoyance – Vader could not call the man an opponent without laughing - used a style that was more suited to theatrical duels than to actual combat. The man was busily engaged in wearing himself out with rushing attacks, feints that a child could read and much flourishing of his blade.

No contest. No thrill. Vader could fight this pathetic excuse for a duel if he had been tranked to his eyeballs with Narcan or drunker than an ore hauler on payday.

When the idiot made his next rush, Vader simply pivoted out of the way of the whirling blade and decapitated the fool with a simple stroke before his hapless opponent realized what happened.

The head bounced into the gutter, the eyes blinked a few times in mortal consternation, and that was that.

Now where was his apprentice?

The bond he had set was strengthening nicely; it took no effort at all to read her. In a short time, he would be able to read everything about her with almost no limitations. While the Force did not enable one to actually read thoughts, some emotions were so strong and accompanied by such vivid images that it could be much the same thing. Abhaia was – as was any female – a world of secrets all to her self.

Right now, Abhaia was busy with a duel all her own. As she was not in distress, he left her to it.

Women were as fascinating as M'bin puzzle boxes. They had motivations, thoughts, feelings, instincts that no male would ever understand, and that might well dumbfound that hypothetical mind reader. At times, his interactions with female of his species made him wonder if indeed there were Gods and – more to the point – if they were all in on the joke.

Unlike his master, Darth Vader was an admirer of the gender as a whole. He did not try to analyze them, or understand them; stubbing his toes and banging his head on the inscrutable held no appeal. With females one might walk in the door with one mystery and emerge with a half-dozen new ones, a lot more questions and a raging headache. Instead, he used their innate talents to his – and the Empire's - advantage. Saber Enterprises, a front for some highly complex intelligence operations had an employee base that was almost half female. The Empire's loss was Saber's exceptionally profitable gain.

A barrage of ion cannon and turbolaser fire lit up the sky over the spaceport, chasing a Lambda-class shuttle into the night sky. The shuttle zigged and zagged, ducked and juked, eluding the fire. Squawks and irate chatter over the field command channel let him know that a dozen Jedi had stormed a landing station and commandeered the ship.

The craft was nearly away when they blundered right into the crossfire from an ion cannon and were reduced to basic elements in a flash of white; this making Vader's job much less complicated.

Just twelve more to go. Easy.

Abhaia dispatched her opponent.

Eleven.

He turned west, moving toward his apprentice's signature. She was flagging, and he could feel the acidic ache of exhaustion through the bond. Rest would have to come first, and the time to permit her to regain some strength; the girl was running on fumes. Once she had rested, training – and the correction of a few erroneous perceptions - would begin in earnest. It would be very interesting to see how Sith teaching and methods adapted to a Healing-talented pupil. Through the entire line of Bane, and as far back as Vader could determine in his research, there had never been a Healer among the Sith and few females.

Sith tradition held that the apprentice would seek out the master, and Abhaia had been all but lighting signal fires along her route. The odds against her had been daunting with groups of trained warriors chasing a glaringly untrained woman across the galaxy. Yet, she had managed not only to stay alive and free, but also dealt back death in payment for her suffering. Cunning, persistence, guile and stealth based on those qualities alone, Abhaia was a natural for the Sith.

Again, Vader wondered about Abhaia's child. Even in her depleted state, she was still powerful. From what he understood of Healing, certain conditions required much time and intense effort to negate. While the girl might be able to heal any injury short of death, perhaps a complicated illness or defect had taken the infant's life. Something in the situation did not fit correctly, but the feeling of finality he had from her thoughts could not be anything other than death.

Could it?

A burst of aggression reached his senses and right on the heels of it, the third signature Vader had sensed surged to the fore.

::: Stay away from her, Sith. :::

Well. It appeared that his opposite number was about to buy into the game; two Dark Jedi were closing on the Lightsider's position.

::: Found a spine somewhere in the caves, Jedi? ::: Vader taunted, enjoying the feeling of conflict as the Jedi dueled against one of his own.

That feeling was cut short as alarm jolted into his perception, followed by a flash of pain. A check on his apprentice told him that she had been ambushed, injured and was in a fight for her life. Flashes lit the sky to the west, near a span of fanciful titanium bridges. He could see one green and two blue blades flashing, lighting the fog as it began to roll in from the sea.

There were four signatures ahead of him - two together and the other two apart. Vader ignited his blade and moved purposefully in the direction of the bridges, determined to cut his way there.

~

Naum crossed blades with the man in front of him. The rhythm of thrust and parry and riposte was one he had danced from childhood with his saber humming the melody. The Form he used was an older one, less acrobatic and more workman-like in its approach, but not lacking in power.

The man he faced used a rough style, cobbled together out of different Forms and as full of holes as Naum's faith. It seemed that his opponent had also copied the sartorial style of the Hu'uran Diktat, down to the moustache and goatee. Did every Darkling under Perran Jasc look like a holopostie for the benefits of eugenics?

Unable to bring himself to even call him a Dark Jedi – to give him that connection to something that was supposed to be so much more - Naum felt filthy even sensing the man's signature. It was somehow oily and at the same time as virulent as plague, seeking to infect everyone it touched. Once more, he faced a 'brother' who made Vader look like a penitent.

Once more, he faced a darker reflection of himself.

"Leave here and I will let you live." The tone was appropriately menacing, but spoiled by the man's wide eyes, pallor, and copious sweating. "This is not a matter important enough for your consideration."

"Which matter was that, the enslavement of women and children? A Healer – possibly the first in history – embracing the Dark side and slaughtering her way across the Rim?" Naum felt a completeness that he had not in years, a oneness with the Force and his past. "I will leave, but not until I have started to undo the harm that you and your associates have done."

Naum drove the man back with a series of thrusts and slashes so rapid that the man could only block and retreat. When he tried to turn a crossblock into a cut at Naum's midsection, Naum parried and lunged – dropping to one knee and under the man's blade.

All was still, the rush of the surf and hum of their blades the only sounds as the first fingers of fog began to grip the headlands. Naum's opponent fell to the ground, a smoking hole in his chest. The scent of carbonized flesh made Naum gag - the spin of memories through his mind matching the spinning nausea in his stomach.

The past will always have a hold on you, Naum. Just take care that it does not strangle you to death.

Naum's eyes snapped open and his head came up. For one moment, he was positive that he had sensed Prana; and in the next moment, he dismissed the thought. So lost he was in the past, that a spike of distress from Abi nearly knocked him to the ground.

Pain - she'd been injured. Vader? No, the Sith was up to his chestplate in a duel of his own and Naum found himself in the odd position of not knowing who he should hope to win. He sensed Abi's desperation and could now see flashes of blue-green light moving across a span of the bridge complex called Angel's Wings.

Absorbed in attempting to read Abi's status and keep a wary eye on the Sith, he almost missed a rushing attack from behind. Only a sense of brushing menace made him leap in a reverse somersault, coming down behind the would-be assassin with blade at ready. The man turned, smiling at Naum as if he had not just tried to cut him down.

"Naum Koghan! So good to see you after so very long!" The man looked much like Naum himself, they might even have been mistaken for brothers. Indeed, on more than one mission they had presented themselves as such.

"Keir Ganvry. Why am I not surprised to find you trying to sink a blade in my back?" Naum wasted no time, the blue blade of his saber flashed in a sideways figure eight, then Naum powered out a slash at the man's legs. "You'll pardon my haste, brother, but right now I have other things on my mind than exchanging false pleasantries with you."

Keir twisted his arms, blocking the blow and flipping himself out of range.

"Like killing your own family, Naum? We're Jedi. Brothers. I saw you cut Pakinal down like he was a Sith." The tone was wounded and nearly believable, but Keir's eyes were as cold as a serpent's. "We can still get out of this. Jasc ran to save his own hide. He abandoned us here, and we owe him nothing. If it's the witch you want, take her. Kill her, keep her, do as you wish, Perran only wanted the witch's get to begin with."

Her 'get?' Could that mean what he thought? As in 'to beget?'

"What? She didn't tell you?" Keir sniggered. "One of the lads got himself a fine ride, paid for it with his balls and then with his head when she turned up pregnant. Cut down her own father and three others on her way out, too. Colder than a Sith's kiss, that one. Maybe you'll be the man to warm her up!"

Naum's mind reeled. Abi, why didn't you tell me?

In the next second, the answer came to him; she hadn't told him because she couldn't tell him. The same way that she could not tolerate touch, the same way she could not trust anyone. For a moment, he all but gave up. How could he possibly think that he had it in him to redeem someone so horribly broken?

How could he have thought to reconcile the Jedi who had so purposefully caused that breaking? Vader would seek redemption before this man standing in front of him.

Under Naum's level stare, Keir's supercilious smile began to evaporate and fear began seep through.

"We don't have to do this, Naum. We were brothers once, we could be again, fighting the Dark as Jedi should."

Regret tinged Naum's voice, "And what if you have become the Dark that Jedi must fight?"

"Your Council is a council of cowards, letting Jedi die like nerfs in an abattoir! We are trying to preserve a heritage and legacy worth more than worlds!" Keir spat.

Both men jerked toward the northwest as a whirlwind of Dark power roared through the Force and snatched away four lives. Naum stared, stunned at Vader's power and control.

"That is what we are fighting!" Keir's face was deathly white, his upper lip curled in a snarl of fear. "Only history can judge us, Naum! And if you are not with us, then you are against us!"

The last word was punctuated with a charge and swing as Keir sought to use Naum's distraction. Naum stepped away from the charge and then back in, with a thrust that Keir barely parried. Moving with the parry and the semi-circular slash, Naum turned full circle as he used his body to gather momentum. Keir saw it too late and his block was not enough to stop Naum's blade from slicing a hand's length into his midsection.

Keir crumpled around the wound, eyes glazing as she stared up at Naum. "What ever happened to redemption, Naum? You used to believe that you could change a blood adder, if you had the time."

"I used to believe that, to some extent, I still do." His saber spun in his fingers. "I still believe that as long as there is memory of the Light, no spirit is lost to the Dark. But a blood adder is a blood adder, and all you can do is kill it before it bites."

Keir's eyes had time to widen in fear, but that was all. Naum's blade stabbed down and found his former comrade's heart. This time, the stench of burning muscle did not fill him with nausea, only with sadness for what was and what might have been.

In his mind, he could feel the Sith Lord watching and felt compelled to address him.

::: I am not like you. :::

Vader's response was the mental equivalent of a mocking grin.

Turning his back on the bodies, with the dense fog closing in around him, Naum ran for the bridges.

~