Star Wars Episode 3.5.7: Shifter
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . .
Her name – her true name, her flacce, known only to herself and her Lord – was Darth Treyu. She had worn thousands of names in her long life, but it was Treyu she called herself in the blackness of her heart, underneath the layers of flesh and costume that hid her from the galaxy.
Treyu had sacrificed her flecce ("birth flesh") to the Sith along with the name it had borne. She was a shape-shifter; her form was whatever would bring her closer to her prey. As she approached Master Gurliss, she wore the flesh of a prepubescent human girl and the plain brown robes of the Jedi Order.
Treyu was a Sith Assasin. It was not her way to face her enemies and pose with her weapon, any more than it was to legislatively marginalize them. In the strictest sense, Treyu did not have enemies. She had targets.
Warriors fought, Treyu did not; except at the last extremity. She was an ambush predator, a killing strike from the shadows. She had developed her Force abilities to complement her natural gifts, lurking in the Dark, wrapping herself in it until only the keenest senses could discern her.
Her targets were Jedi, or anybody associated with the Order. She'd been a Jedi, long ago, before Lord Paugeis had torn the caul from her eyes. Her false Masters blade rode on her left hip. More recently, she'd devoted her efforts to sabotaging the war effort; which was why the head of Kuat Drive Yards' design department had suffered an unfortunate stumble that blew him three meters over the edge of a Coruscant walkway. His personal transport, the Fringe Benefit, was cooling on the landing pad behind her.
In front of her was this fool that called himself "Master" and presented an unguarded back during combat. Beyond him, her prize – and, she was beginning to realize, a bonus. As she'd approached, her plan had been to simply kill both Jedi, take the artifact, and leave. But as she drew her appropriated weapon and raised it into striking position just behind the base of Falleen's skull, the plan changed.
In the split second before she touched the activator, the Dark Holocron pounced, flooding the young Padawan that carried it with the burning cold of the Dark Side. He lunged forward, preparing to launch himself into the fray as his friend had, but Treyu was already in motion. Her left thumb sent her Masters blue blade through the Falleens' head and shut it down just as quickly as she spun to her left. Her right hand produced her own weapon with a conjurers flourish and whipped the butt end into the boy's forehead, dropping him unconscious to the steps.
She paused as her victims fell, gauging the sound of the Twi'lek carving up Sidious' toys at the top of the stairs. From the sound of things, he was doing well.
No reason to allow that. She thought, and slammed her aggression into the ceiling above the landing. The stone, already pitted with deflected blaster bolts, crumbled and rained down on clones and Twi'lek alike.
Treyu's doe eyed mask was smiling as she heaved the unconscious Padawan onto her thin shoulders. Sidious could have his Empire and his Chosen One. Treyu would take the Holocron and her newfound apprentice, and they would both know who was ahead in the game.
To be continued . . .
