A StarWars Fable

by IAmElvie

The story is based on the SWTOR online game. There will be a mix of my characters & game NPCs. All class protagonists exist & occasionally come into contact with each other. My fable may veer some from the actual game content & timeline is imperfect. You will meet KOTOR descendants & a few Star Wars movie ancestors as well as whatever else I toss in. As always, mature readers only.

8. A StarWars Fable-Prologue Inquisitor

SWTOR

An Old Republic Tale

Prologue

Sorcerer – Broken Chains
Korriban

Vrok looked the other passengers over. He'd been kept separate from them during the journey aboard the starship. The troopers had reluctantly removed his slave collar before he was taken aboard the shuttle. He had smiled when he noticed the troopers kept a hand resting on their blasters. He knew that with his red skin, golden eyes, height and muscle that he was an imposing figure. They might not know it, but they were in no danger from him. In fact, their presence hardly mattered to him; he wanted off this ship. Korriban wasn't his choice, but he was here and he'd make the most of it.

Due to his ability with the force, he'd been kept moderately sedated and forced to wear a slave collar after he'd struck one of the pirates down when he was freed from carbonite over a decade and a half ago. He'd been a frightened boy of fifteen, facing pirates instead of palace guards. But even in such tender years, he was already a larger than most his age and the pirates had put him to work – hard, physical labor.

He'd had to adapt to a whole new way of life, fifteen hundred years in a future he never should have known. He'd tumbled from nobility to slave with the death of his father and his own carbonite prison. Both at the hands of his scheming little half-brother. A half-brother that would have long since rotted in his grave, as would his father, mother, uncle and older brother.

There was a thump against the hull, but the pilot assured them everything was fine and it was likely a bit of rock or debris. Not long after, shuttle rocked with turbulence as it entered the planet's atmosphere, tearing his thoughts away from a past long dead and buried. The only human female among them turned a light shade of pink when he caught her eye. The pink darkened when he returned her smile. Interesting. His head turned when he felt the heat of hard stare. Another, of the blood, like himself. A hood covered the pureblood's hair and forehead; some of his features were hidden in the shadows of his cowl but there was no mistaking the disdain and arrogance of his narrow red glare.

Vrok lifted a browridge and smirked. He'd once held such arrogant conviction too. Slavery had taught him many things, including humility and compassion. He would never again be what this cretin tried to be – what this place would try to mold him into being. He would do what he had to for survival, but he'd never forget the lessons he'd learned or the friends that died under the harsh yoke of slavery. One day…he would be in a place where he could make a difference. That was his solemn vow.

The female that blushed earlier talked softly with him. He'd learned her name was Kory and she'd come from a poor outerworld, laden with crashed ships from past wars, where she'd been nothing but a junk scrapper until she'd been turned over to the sith to be trained. Now, she'd come to Korriban to face her trials.

From what he could extrapolate from their small talk, the others spoke as if they'd previously been trained at another academy as well. Why then was he being sent directly here? As far as they knew, he had no formal sith training. They could not possibly have ascertained who he was, could they?

The shuttle shook again, though this time in the process of setting down on Korriban. When the shuttle door lifted, he allowed the others to exit ahead of him. Some were frightened, others moved with confidence, but there was an underlying nervousness to all of them. Interesting. He, alone, had no previous training at whatever institutions sith normally trained at. What training he'd been given had been by his father. A powerful sith lord. His mother and uncle, though not of the blood, had been prominent and wealthy sith lords. Even as a child, his power in the force had never been questioned.

Despite being sedated and collared, his power had grown with age. It was why they'd chosen now to sell him. He'd become an uncontrollable liability. A fully sedated slave had no use. Here, he had a use. He looked around at what had become his new home. The statues were not dissimilar to the statues found at his father's. But the desolate rust colored landscape left much to be desired.

He noted the others has assembled around a man. Perhaps the person in charge. By the man's movements, he appeared to be talking to them. No doubt, he would be reprimanded for not rushing to join them. Right now, however, he didn't care. He was just glad to stretch his muscles and be free of locked rooms.

Once the slave finally deigned to join the others, Harkun was surprised to see that the slave was a pureblood. And a very large one at that. But pureblood or not, he was naught but a slave and not worthy of his attention. "Ah, the last one to arrive is finally here. I hope you don't think you are special. It would be a shame if freedom went to your head, or if you somehow got the idea you didn't need to pass your trials to become a sith." He eyed the rest of the group. He was not impressed with any of the lot. "I am Overseer Harkun and Lord Zash has tasked me with sorting through the refuse to find one worthy of being her apprentice, and I will enjoy the sorting.

The words droned on and Vrok turned his attention to the large storage unit that was leaning backwards against the wall next to them rather than standing upright. What was the purpose of-

"Do you think you are too important to listen to me, slave?" Harkun lashed out.

He turned his head to focus on the Overseer. "I heard every word. Would you like me to repeat it?"

Harkun's gaze narrowed on the slave. "You are not worthy of repeating my words." He would not risk being shown up by a slave. "Now, the rest of you gutter trash already know your trial. Get going while I bring our slow and ignorant slave up to speed."

Kory leaned in towards Vrok. "Watch your back, friend. And don't worry. It'll be alright. He can't kill us all."

One corner of his lips rose in a lopsided grin. "That, I'll make sure of. Stay safe, Kory."

"Touching," Harkun sneered when the female degenerate departed. "Now, slave, for your trial. There's a hermit named Spindrall who lives in the tomb of Ajunta Pall, in the Valley of the Dark Lords. Spindrall's a lunatic, but Lord Zash sees him as some kind of prophet. Once you find him, he will test you."

He smiled and inclined his head to the Overseer. "Then it will be done."

Harkun frowned. If he didn't know better, he'd say the slave was educated. But that wasn't possible. "You know your trial – be gone with you, slave," he barked before turning to more important duties.

He lifted his arm and pressed the implant on his wrist, an implant that had never been discovered. His micro-tool holo popped on and synced with the planet's standard feed. He typed in Ajunta Pall's tomb and a navpoint appeared on a local map holo-display. Just what he needed.

He cut through the academy and moved down the steps to the rusty sands of Korriban. With each step he could feel the dust coating him as if to offer a protective layer. His lips twitched, wishing it could provide protection. Unlike the others, he had no weapon – not even a practice saber. Until he acquired a weapon of his own, he would have to rely on the force alone.

He glanced down at his map again and memorized the location before tapping his micro-tool off. He took another set of stairs that led underground. The stairs, themselves, were etched into the very ground they walked on. The catacomb was rather old, by the looks of the fallen rubble. He looked up at the ceiling, but it seemed sound enough.

He ran into looters, which were easily taken down by archs of lightning. He grabbed a blaster and snapped it to his magbelt. It wasn't much, but it was something.

As he progressed through the chambers, worm-like creatures tried to disabuse him of the idea of passing through or maybe they just thought he looked tasty. Regardless, they soon melted into steaming piles of goo that made his olfactory senses rebel in disgust.

There. Up ahead. That was the lair of Spindrall, the crazy hermit. So be it. He descended down into the lair. The stone stairs ended at a chamber obviously used for training. Half a dozen robed and hooded beings were using practice blades on training…statues? He had trained with live opponents not blocks of steel.

At the end of the chamber up a short stairwell was an alter with someone kneeling before it. Perhaps the hermit. He passed through the training acolytes, seemingly with disregard, though in truth he was very aware of them as he ascended the far stairs.

Coming up behind the kneeling man, he noticed there was no alter. It was a stone coffin the man knelt in front of. Interesting.

Spidrall rose, his pained knees popping with the effort, and turned to face the pureblood? He knew a slave would be coming but not that he was a pureblood. No matter, the slave was here for a reason. "Slave. Welcome to my humble hole. You are here for your trial, yes? Learn the ways of the sith from a doddering old man in a tomb? And hopefully to return to your master with the mark of my approval?"

He inclined his head to the old man. "As you say, my Lord, you are correct."

"Of course, I am. I know the ways of things on the surface. But before I answer either way – you must pass a trail of blood. Survive, and I will teach you what I know." He turned his back on the red giant and lowered slowly back down to his protesting knees.

Vrok turned to look back down the stair at the others he'd passed on the way to the old man. All had stopped practicing. They were now meditating, awaiting his arrival. So be it. He slowly descended the stone steps and continued forward until he stood in the center of them all. When the first one lifted his weapon, Vrok threw both of his arms out. The six men rose into the air, grabbing at their throats as he slowly tightened his fists. When they went limp, he dropped them to the stone. He had not wanted their deaths. And right now, he had no power base to enact change. He released a slow breath. It was done.

Spindrall had felt the power, followed by the deaths in the force. He rose and turned to face the advancing pureblood. "These former acolytes wanted nothing more than to earn their second chance for glory by killing you and taking their place. But your desire proved stronger. Their blood became the mantle of your victory. Well done – but you are not sith yet. Do you know the sith code?"

"Of course." Vrok doubted it had changed over the last 1500 years. Regardless whether he still believed it, he would always remember it and what it stood for. He repeated the sith code as he had learned it.

Spindrall tilted his head. The words were similar, yet something felt a bit off about them. The inflection? The way some of the words were pronounced? No matter, they were true enough. This one before him bore watching. The power he felt in the pureblood was unlike anything he'd felt before in his long years. "Return to Harkun and nurture your hatred of him to grow stronger. He may raise his fist to strike, but it is Lord Zash who determines where the blow will land."

"You know them?" he enquired.

"Both of them have been through here in my time, and they have gone their separate paths since." What was it about this pureblood that seemed off? Was it just the power within him or something else? Bah. He was too tired to think on it anymore and he doubted there was much, if anything, he could teach the boy. He suspected the boy might be able to teach him a thing or two, but he was far to old to care. "You have power unparalleled in my life. When the time comes, make sure you use it. Now go. Leave me to my rest." Once more he turned away and sank down to his knees with a barely concealed groan.

On the way out, he was accosted by another group of thieves. This time, one of them had an electro-blade. Close enough to a practice saber to serve the purpose of one.

When he exited the tomb, his boots sank into the rusty sand. One of the slaves he'd once worked with, a twi'lek by the name of Tinnek, once told him to always find the gold in everything that happened – even if you had to dig to find it. It was a code he chose to live by. There was gold in the rust-colored sand – it was not harsh on the soles of his boots like the rock on the last asteroid he was forced to mine. There was gold on Korriban. No collar and no sedation. He was nearly as free now as he had been as a child. Gold could be found anywhere, if you cared enough to look.

He shook his head to clear the cobwebs of the past when he heard arguing. It wasn't heated, but he could tell the smaller woman, a twi'lek wearing a slave collar, was trying to get a point across to the sith woman she was following. The gap closed between them. As they hurried past, he made a slight motion and a large stone swept into the path of the sith, she tripped, her arms flailing about in a comedic fashion. With a quick point of his finger, he sent a small bolt of electricity into the slave's collar, shorting it out. The twi'lek winked at him and mouthed, 'thank you' to him as she hurried on by, asking her master if she was okay. He grinned. That felt good. He suspected there wouldn't be many things that felt good in his foreseeable future.

Once he re-entered the sith academy, he'd had to ask around to find out where his quarters were. He was bunked with five other males, none of them in his group of sith hopefuls. None were outright hostile to him, but nor did any offer a hand in friendship. He supposed he could not fault them for that. He doubted sith were capable of even making real friends. It took a hard fall for him to understand what having a friend truly meant. From what he'd seen thus far, sith from this time were much the same as the sith that ruled his time. How was it truly possible that things hadn't changed in so long a time? Change was inevitable. That was interesting. And concerning.

Not long after, he enjoyed a hot shower. As the droplets struck his skin, he groaned. This was something he had not felt for a great many years. Slaves were not worthy of wasting water on. Instead, they were chuted through to decontamination rooms. Many didn't even bother removing their clothing. He, however, had always removed his clothing and held them out, so that both he and his clothing could be thoroughly decontaminated. But this…water was a luxury he had not had since he was a child.

When he was clean enough, he pulled his clothing in and scrubbed them. He had yet to find something else to wear. Nor had he killed anyone his size to use there clothing or armor. So, for now, he was left with keeping his own clothing clean. He had to admit that he missed the noble clothing he used to wear and longed to wear the soft, silky fabrics against his skin once more. That was something that would certainly be rectified at first chance. Once he got his hands on a credit chip card – one with enough of a balance that he could purchase what he needed.

He closed his eyes as he wrung out his wet clothing. He should have gone through the pockets of the tomb thieves, as distasteful as that thought was. However, it was far too late for such a consideration; someone else would have picked them over before now. But the lesson had been learned. He would do better next time.

He threw the damp clothing over his shoulder and tightened the towel around his waist before heading back to his room. He received several admiring glances in passing and one man even came to a complete halt to look him over. His frown was more than enough to send the man scurrying on his way. There was nothing the human could have offered that he had interest in. He'd been raped repeatedly as a slave and when he was strong enough to fight back, they'd sedated him. No. No man would ever touch him again.

In his room, he laid out his damp clothing, grabbed the two weapons he'd stolen and settled down at a table to clean them. He was just finishing up cleaning them when the others came in, laughing and joking with each other. He couldn't even imagine doing such with anyone. Even as a child, he'd been raised separate from other children, taught that he was their better.

As a slave, he tried not to get too close to anyone. You never knew when they would die or be sold. Even so, he did meet a few friends here and there. If he had to choose one he missed the most, it would be Blip, an RE-1 unit he'd met out on CV-219, a mining asteroid and his last place of servitude. He supposed he felt safer making friends with a droid, they rarely died and were rarely sold.

He'd seen the little flighty droid from his first day on the asteroid. He was the pirate's eyes and ears and message runner, when need be. He could go down into unsafe areas to keep an eye on the slaves. A few days after arrival, as small rock fall had trapped one of the little droid's legs and it could not get out. After he'd freed the little guy, he'd noticed the droid's scomp link in his leg, along with an actuator had been damaged.

Electronic repair was something he'd learned when he lived with his mother and uncle. He picked the two-legged droid up and retreated to the work bench station. There were no weapons there, but there were some tools that could be used to repair the tools they needed to break the rock. He'd managed to repair the droid's leg and, in the process, made a devout friend.

The droid would often search him out after that to talk to him. He eventually came to trust the droid and named him Blip after a sound he made when he was excited. As time went along, he managed to scrounge up the parts needed to make further upgrades to his little friend. He'd even removed Blip's restraining bolt the day before he was heavily sedated and taken aboard a shuttle to be sold. He could only hope, for Blip's sake, that it was never discovered.

"A blaster?" Laiton jabbed Alto in the ribs when he saw the blaster on the table. "I don't think I've ever seen a sith deign to carry a blaster. Guess Red is making sure he can find work when he fails his trials."

He lowered the electroblade down onto the table and turned his head to the side to see the human who thought himself witty. He lifted a hand, pointed a finger at the man and raised it. He turned it 180 degrees and then twirled it. The man, hanging upside down in the air was spinning around, the contents of his pockets raining down on the floor beneath him.

The moment he cut the flow of power, the human dropped into heap onto the floor amidst his belongings and the laughter of the others. He may have made an enemy of that human, but the others had been impressed with his ability to wield the force.

Ackles wiped the tears from his eyes, "You've got to teach me that, Red!" He just then noticed how much of the pureblood was on display. "After you are dressed, of course."

That simple gesture had changed the dynamics of his bunk-mates. They respected his abilities and stopped treating him as a joke. Even the human he'd spun had ended up laughing over the experience. Their change towards him was tantamount to flipping on a light switch – not that there seemed to be many of those left in this time.

Not once did he ever make the mistake of thinking any of them were his friends but it did make living with them easier.

The following morning, after his breakfast, physicardio and shower, he sought out the overseer to let him know that he'd passed his first trial. Though, he supposed, Harkun already knew. He was given directions by someone he'd stopped to ask and grinned. What new insults would the overseer come up with today? He could see through the doorway that the other hopefuls, Niloc, Kory, Gerr, Ffon, Wydr and Balek had arrived before him. So, he was last again. No doubt, Harkun would have something to say about that as well.

Harkun grunted when he saw the slave walk through the door. "Ah, the last one. Always the latecomer. Now we can see what the hermit thinks of you slime," he said referring the group at large. "Acolyte Kory. Step forward please." His eyes narrowed on her when she did as she was asked. "You are a weak, pathetic rodent and even a lunatic like Spindrall can see this, and that means -" Lightening leapt from his fingertips and her body convulsed. His smile widened as her body fell to the floor. "Now, meet our newcomer – Ffon Althe. This is real sith strength, and he will tear you apart and crush your bones." He lifted a hand towards Ffon. "Look at him! No connections left in the world, but pure sith blood! This – this is Lord Zaxh's future apprentice! Not filth like you!"

Vrok forced a grin, trying to keep his anger at Kory's treatment at bay. It may have been the way of the sith – but he no longer considered himself sith. "I would imagine our pedigrees would show that I have far more pureblood coursing through my veins than your pet does."

Harkun's lip curled up in distaste. "You are nothing but a slave! You mean less than nothing! Step this way, slave. I want to speak to you privately. The rest of you – get out of here. You know your trials. You, too, Ffon. Spindrall awaits." It galled him that the crazy hermit had whispered in Zash's ear, gushing over this worthless slave.

After the others left, he turned his attention back to the slave. It also galled him that he had to look up at the filthy mountain. "Spindrall was a lunatic. His approval means nothing. You are filth and you will die. Is that clear?"

His lips twitched and spread into a grin, which seemed to anger the overseer even more. "As clear as the finest diamond."

"Good. Now, your second trial: Lord Zash has requested a special trial for you, which you will no doubt fail. Go to inquisitor Zyn in jails. He will fill you in on the details – and most likely, hasten your demise.

"I'm sure he will," Vrok replied with a grin. "But don't hold your breath, Harkun – or it won't be me that dies."

"Don't boast, slave!" Harkun growled. "Don't think red skin makes a filthy salve worthy of being called a sith! I don't want see you again until you are back from the jails. Now, get out of my sight!"

With that, he took his leave. It was odd they had a prison inside the sith academy. He would have thought it would have had its own building, but what did he know? He was a man out of time.

Zyn stopped pacing and came to a stand still with the red ex-slave entered the room. "Acolyte! You've arrived and not a moment too soon. Harkun has given me very specific instructions. You were raised as a slave but must discard those traits and learn to control others. And I have just the task for that end." He waved a hand to the acolyte that was strapped to a torture table. "Meet this driveling excuse for an acolyte. His name is Alif and he will be your victim. A short while ago, there was what we call an unauthorized murder here in the academy. A rivalry among apprentices resulted in death. Interrogate him. Make him tell you who committed this crime, at any cost."

He inclined his head at Zyn. "As you say."

Alif groaned when he saw the huge pureblood approach. This was not going to be fun. "Please don't hurt me. I don't know anything." This was not going to end well.

"So you say," Vrok responded, knowing the man was lying despite how terrified he was. "I am asking you to talk to me. This doesn't have to end in torture. I've been where you are and wouldn't wish it on anyone. Tell me the name I need to know, lest they call another less open minded than myself."

Alif couldn't believe what he was hearing. Not out of any sith's mouth, acolyte or not. He would never have spoke those words. Was this some kind of mind game? For some reason, it felt like the red mountain was being serious. "They really did pull you out of the slave pens like the Inquisitor said, didn't they? You aren't like any sith I've ever met. I'll tell you what I saw…but promise me that the murderer will get justice – that he won't come to kill me."

"I'll take care of it one way or the other," Vrok assured him.

Again, he felt sincerity. Sincerity from a sith. "I appreciate that. An apprentice named Esorr Kayin – I saw him murder that guy outside the library on the second floor." He blew out a harsh breath. "Listen, his master's incredibly powerful - he won't let Kayin be punished. Kayin will kill me."

He'd seen too many slaves in a very similar position. He'd done what he could to help them and he could do no less for Alif. "One way or another, he will not." With that said, he returned to the Inquisitor Zyn.

Zyn held up his hand. "You don't have to tell me. I heard the name loud and clear. Though, I sorely wish I hadn't. Esorr Kayin." He shook his head. "Kayin's master is a Dark Council member…that is unfortunate. But not your concern. I will send my commendations to Overseer Harkun. You may return to him now."

Vrok pursed his lips to keep from smiling. He could feel the weakness in the Inquisitor. "The acolyte will need protection."

Zyn shook his head. While the acolyte's methods bore fruit, a gentle touch would get him killed. "That is not your affair. I suggest you eliminate your compassion and forget about this acolyte before it gets you killed," he warned the young one.

"You would let fear stand in your way? Are you a man to be taken seriously or not?" It would seem he would need to point out the obvious. "Keeping him alive, by getting him off planet, ensures a future debt the acolyte owes you."

Zyn rubbed his chin. The acolyte did have a point. In fact, it was down right diabolical. He nodded his head. "Getting him off planet is no simple matter – but I have a Darth on Dromund Kaas who owes me a favor. I'll make sure she takes this fool as her apprentice. He'll be out of Kayin's reach, but from there on, he's on his own. And I expect his debt to be repaid when I call upon him. You know, you have a most unusual approach, acolyte. Watch it doesn't get you into trouble," he warned.

He inclined his head to the Inquisitor and returned to Alif's side. "Remember what happened here," he said murmured in a low tone. "There are many paths to solving a problem and they do not all have to end in violence and cruelty."

With that, he quit the chamber and returned to the Overseer. A look through the door as he approached let him know the other acolytes were already there. It would certainly be nice if someone notified him when they were supposed to meet up. It would seem everyone was informed but him.

How unfortunate, the slave persisted. "Well, well, well. I had been looking forward to cutting another one of you down, but it looks like I'll be spared the trouble. Unsurprisingly, Niloc has gone missing. Also, unsurprisingly, Ffon has passed his first trial. It's only a matter of time before he tramples you all underfoot."

Ffon growled at the smirk on the slave's face. "I'll tear you apart where you stand, slave!"

Harkun held up a hand. "Patience, Ffon. An accident in the tombs is more convincing. Now, the lot of you know your next task – go. I want to speak to Ffon and our latecomer." He watched the others leave for a moment and then looked at the two purebloods. He suspected it would all come down to these two, though it galled him to admit it.

"Now, slave – Zyn says you handled yourself expertly and as much as I find this difficult to believe, Lord Zash is satisfied with his evaluation. Undoubtedly, Zyn helped you in some way – but you will not have his help on your next trial. Both you and Ffon will have trials of intellect – trials that test your ability to apply your understanding of the Force to solve problems."

"You don't expect a slave to be a match for me in intellect!" Ffon scoffed. "I've been trained under the greatest teachers. I -"

"Calm down, Ffon. I certainly do not expect this slave to be a match for you. That's why you will have separate trials."

Vrok smiled. He had been trained under the best teachers as well, from the time he could walk. For now, he kept his mouth shut.

"Ffon, you will go to the library on the second floor of the academy and translate the following texts for Lord Zash."

Ffon inclined his head to the Overseer. "Yes, overseer."

"Slave, deep in the ancient, monster-infested tomb of Marka Ragnos, there is a holocron filled with dark secrets and encased in a great stone monument. No one has figured out how to release the holocron from its stone prison in over a thousand years. You will bring this holocron to me, or you will die."

Vrok smirked at the humor of the two given trials. "Hmm…translating, 'Kash iezkonas azinimas tu aras sophic; kash vazdosumas anas tu zinot gautijas zhol—tu aras zo zioplys', or facing uncertain death. Still, I choose death to childrens' studies."

What the hell was that nonsense? And since when did children read ancient sith manuscripts? "Spoken like the idiot you are," Harkun scoffed. "You will bring back the holocron or hope that the spirit of Marka Ragnos himself returns to end your miserable existence. Now go!" Untrained, no-account slave going straight into his trials. What was Zash doing! It infuriated him that he could not balk her on this.

He laughed as he left the overseer's office, not caring one iota if it irritated the overseer as it had irritated the pirates that had dared enslave him. Idiot, was he? He'd merely quoted from a manuscript he'd studied as a child. 'In seeking knowledge, you are wise; in imagining that you have attained it—you are a fool. How was that deemed idiotic? Unless, perhaps, Harkun could not decipher what he'd said. That made him laugh even harder.

Slavery had taught him to laugh. Maybe at first, he used that reflex to stop himself from crying; but it had become a part of him. Smile and find the gold in any situation. Laugh at adversity. That was who he was now. This place of selfish greed and deception - it would not pull him back in to be what he had once been as a child. Life's lessons could not be unlearned. He would never fit into this world and its harsh reality again. One day, he would be in a position to evoke change. Until then, he would do as was needed to survive.

-BREAK ONE-

The meeting had not taken long, it was not yet time for a mid-day meal. Likely, he would have to forego such, as he doubted he would find much worth eating down in the dusty valley. Tomb worm did not appeal to him in the slightest.

Outside, the sun was harsh and the shadows welcome. He activated his micro-terminal and pulled up details on the tomb of Marka Ragnos. Much too far to reach by foot. At least the academy provided free transportation to its students who needed access to the Lower Wilds.

The skycar dropped him off further than he wanted and it would undoubtedly be late by the time he returned. As luck would have it, the tomb lay on the path straight ahead. Armed with an electro-blade and blaster, he set off in the direction of the tomb. He frowned at the red dust that was already coating his clothing. He could not wait to leave this place.

The sun was overhead, by the time he could make out the tomb in the distance. The walk had been uneventful. A lone predator had tried to attack him, but slamming into a rock had disabused it of idea of attacking again.

Once he entered the tomb, he pulled up his map again. The route would not be difficult to remember, it was literally, two left turns. As luck would have it, two young acolytes slipped from the darkened corners of the tomb and tried to ambush him – not that he had much to steal. A simple show of strength and one surrendered. The other chose to continue the fight. He could understand desperation, but not the greed that seemed to have taken control of the zabrak. "Don't do this," he told the deranged young man.

Without anything more than a growl from the zabrak, his hands curled and lightning shot out at Vrok. His own hands immediately lifted in defense. Electrical energy flowed from his own fingers, slamming into the other acolyte's power. He slowly forced out more power, hoping the acolyte would see reason and stop this insanity.

Vrok could only shake his head when his power overwhelmed the other acolyte. The Zabrak's body stiffened, his teeth snapping together with a harsh crack that reverberated through the chamber. He released the flow of power, but zabrak fell to the stone floor, his chest no longer raising. The other acolyte was long gone. With a frustrated exhale, he took the training saber from the body and continued deeper into the cavernous tomb.

Once he reached the holocron's chamber, he was attacked by several winged screechers. He surrounded them with the force's power and hurled them out through the chamber's entrance. They chose not to return.

With a nod of satisfaction, he turned to study the simple chamber. Large lights lit up the area. The holocron sat atop a large stone pyramid structure and metal ramp wrapped around the pyramid, ending in a balcony overlooking it.

He hurried up the ramp and along the balcony until the holocron was just above eye level. Now what? He reached out to the glowing tip of the pyramid. It was cold to the touch, but hummed with power. There were etched scars from swords and lightsaber burn marks covering the lighted tip; evidence the sith have been trying to break open the housing for years. Blunt force would not work. No, there was some kind of power shielding it. And power could be disrupted. He lifted his hands and then lowered them. Surely that had been tried many times as well. But what else was there? So be it. He raised his hands once more, pure energy arched from his fingers and flowed into the encasement.

The light flickered and went out; the panels lowered to reveal the small, square holocron within. He reached between the panels and lifted out the holocron. There was a rumble and the power in the pyramid rebooted, the panels closing back up, the tip of the pyramid lit up once more.

He frowned when he realized he had nowhere to hide the holocron. It is what it is. He pulled at the neck of his tunic and dropped the holocron down inside. He tugged at the material, pulling it up from the belt, so that his tunic was looser. At least now, the holocron wasn't advertised so blatantly. Fighting had just become more awkward with it rolling around inside his tunic.

As he predicted, it was dark fall by the time he made it back to the academy. The overseer's office was locked, so he returned to his room. The others were already abed, so he locked the datacron in his locker, showered and washed his clothes and then crawled into bed, naked but clean.

Come morning, he rolled out of bed in all his naked glory and pulled on his clothing amongst the dramatic groans of his roommates as they quickly filed out of the room. He slipped the holocron back into his tunic and hurried out the door to find something to eat. There was no way he would have the energy for physicardio today. He'd missed two meals yesterday and his body required a vast amount of food.

He ate as quickly as he could and then headed straight for the overseer's office. But no one was there. Interesting. He returned the holocron to his locker and hunted down the sith archives. Knowledge was power and he had 1500 years to make up for.

Every morning, for nearly a week, the overseer's office door was closed. During that time, he'd managed to locate another set of clothing that fit – more or less. He'd spent a lot of time in the archives, talked with a few of the Lords that were willing to speak with him and spent some time with his roommates. Naturally, he was curious about the delay. Was Harkun ill? He grinned – dead? Or did his pet require more time for translations? No matter the reason, he was glad for the human's absence.

This morning, however, by the time he made it to the overseer's office, Balek, Gerr, Ffon and Wydr were already there. Of course, they were. He tried not to think on how their group was getting smaller.

The overseer exhaled harshly. And again, the slave survived. "You better not be wasting my time, slave. If you don't have the holocron, you won't leave this room – alive." Harkun made sure every word dripped with disdain.

Vrok pulled the holocron out from within his clothing and wiped it against the front of his tunic before handing it over to Harkun.

Harkun frowned and grasped it gingerly between his fingers. He studied the holocron and knew the slave had actually managed to obtain the unobtainable. And that galled him. "Hmm…A fake, or stolen from the library. I'll deal with you later," he said as he set the holocron on the desk behind him. "Now – I believe we have another demonstration." From another weak acolyte. "Gerr, step forward."

Uncertain as to why he'd been called on, Gerr complied, hoping that his training would be acknowledged. "Yes, overseer."

"Ffon, kill him," Harkun told only acceptable acolyte.

Ffon grinned, even as the human turned to flee. He raised his hands. "With pleasure, overseer." Lightning sprang from his fingertips, stopping the young man's heart after only a few seconds.

"Very good," Harkun said to the pureblood. "Let Gerr be an example to you, Ffon destroyed him easily, like he will destroy all of you. Are there any other objections?"

Objection? What had he missed? Likely, it was of little importance, such as being assigned a harsh trial. "You should be so proud, Ffon, to kill a man whose back is to you. Truly impressive."

"Your comments are only hastening your death, slave," Harkun sneered. "Begone with the rest of you. Slave – stay here." Once they were gone, he frowned at the slave. "Don't start thinking you are clever for getting that holocron."

Vrok lifted a browridge. "I did not give the matter a thought. I did as was instructed," he pointed out.

"You are lucky Lord Zash finds you useful or you would already be dead. Instead, you are facing another trial." It was starting to look as though he'd have to take things into his own hands to ensure the rightful acolyte became Zash's apprentice. A tight smile formed on his lips. "The last, darkest secrets of Tulak Hord are buried in his tomb. Lord Zash wants this text. But the final resting place of the dead lord is not easily trespassed. You will not be the first to die there."

He inclined his head to the overseer. "I will retrieve the text."

"Do not come back here until you do! Get out of my sight, slave!" Harkun growled with a slash of his hand.

He descended the steps of the academy. Another hot, windless, dusty day on Korriban. Though, the windless descriptor was a blessing and a curse. It was so hot; a breeze would have been nice. However, were there one, he'd be eating as much sand as wearing it.

By now, with all his fresh studies in the archives, he knew exactly where Tulak Hord's tomb was. Near enough to walk in about three-quarters of an hour.

Cooler air, though dry and stale, welcomed him as he descended the steps into the tomb. Like all powerful sith, it was massive in scope. He'd been through his parents' tombs many times over. His father had even started the construction of a tomb for him, even if he was a child. His father had seen in him a future as a great Lord or Darth. He shook his head and barked out a tight laugh. He wondered what any of his family would think of him now. Especially, if they were privy to his thoughts. They'd be rolling over in their dusty tombs. His family was long dead, but he'd had years to mourn them. But for his half-brother. He would ever rejoice over his death.

The path through the tomb was linear, though not in a straight line. The path finally met a "T" junction at a central chamber. For now, his destination lay on the right. The path ended in a large chamber, crumbling and broken pottery that had once held offerings or perhaps even items of sentiment that he wished buried with him lay scattered across the stone floor. But there was one item that still stood. A massive stone tablet. The tablet was cracked, but in one piece. He pulled out the datapad he'd 'found' during the week he'd had off and scanned the massive tablet.

The other tablets, according to the archives lay down the path he had not chosen first. A path that led out of the central tomb and into the dusty remains of an ancient atrium. Additional sections of the extensive tomb opened up off the center atrium. Screechers – no, shyracks swarmed out from somewhere behind the tablet. He reached out with the force, grabbed one, and propelled it towards him, impaling it on his lightsaber. He'd considered strangling them all, but his lightsaber was already out. Whipping it about, it hummed through the air as he struck down each of the shyracks that attacked. The one that remained in the shadows, he allowed it to survive.

He returned to the central chamber that "T"d off and continued down the left-side path. From what he'd read, there were three tablets that combined would give Lord Zash what she required.

He'd fought through a great many droids that had attacked him on sight, once he'd reached the atrium. It was a senseless waste, but he could not allow their protective programming to keep him from accessing the additional sections of the tomb.

He made a copy of the second tablet in Tulak Hord's Archive Vault, after taking care of a few more droids. That left the third tablet, housed in the Machine Vault. He frowned as he exited the Archives. Repair droids were already working on the downed guardian droids. He lengthened his stride to reach the next vault.

Once inside, he met with no resistance. Even the shyracks flew away at his approach. Had they somehow heard the death cries of their brethren? He laughed at his question. There was no 100% sure of ever knowing that. But he was a man driven to know and understand everything, A goal that would ever be impossible to obtain. But that was as it should be. Even as a child, he's spent as much time in his parents' archives as he had training.

He made a copy of the text and turned to see a droid shuddering as if his system was being overloaded by an electrical charge. He put the datapad away and studied the chamber, but he could not see anything that would have damaged the droid.

The droid collapsed with a clank onto the stone floor. The burnt smell told its own tale. "It looks like someone opted not to see a repair droid." Which was fine with him. He had no way to sense a droid in the force, since it was not a living being. That had given the droid a drop on him. If it hadn't malfunctioned, he might have been -" he felt a tug at his lower robe, but nothing was there. He heard a familiar wheedle a moment before an old friend popped into view. "Blip!"

He could not have been more surprised if his father had returned from the dead. His legs gave and settled on the ground. Blip warbled and jumped into his lap, his mwetal legs moving back and forth excitably. "How did you get here, old friend?"

Blip made a warble-blip noise. "I've watched over you since the pirates took you to be sold." He nodded his head up and down. "I had to hide in the academy, but I was there." His head turned back and forth, then cocked to the side as he listened intently but heard nothing alarming. "This is the first time you have been completely alone. How could I leave someone who gave me both a vocabulator and stealth-cloak and remove my restraining bolt? When you freed me, I activated loyalty protocols immediately; they cannot be deactivated, master – even if my memory was wiped." Blip shuddered at the prospect.

"I won't let anyone wipe your memory, Blip," he assured the RE-1 unit. "And don't ever call me 'master' again. I'm Vrok, your friend. I do not own you. I am no one's master."

Blip had been as much a slave as Vrok had been and would accept his master's terms even if it went against standard droid protocol. "I will accept your wishes…Vrok."

He rubbed the top of the droid's head and shooed him off so that he could rise. He then motioned for the droid, who quickly climbed up his clothing, rested one foot on his shoulder and peeked over the top of it before activating the stealth sensors once more. "It is good to have you with me again, Blip. There is no one I trust more than you," he told the droid as he headed towards the Machine Vault's exit.

They passed through the atrium, skirting the droids that were being repaired and re-entered the main tomb. They took care of a few tomb raiders and a handful of failed acolytes that were hiding out and earned some pilfered credits in the process.

He glanced at his micro-terminal as he entered the academy. Mid-afternoon. It would give him plenty of time to check back with Harkun before evening meal was served. On the way to Harkun's office a blonde sith woman was coming from the vicinity of Harkun's office. She was too old to be an acolyte or even an apprentice. A lord then?

Zash looked at the large pureblood. This had to be the slave she'd heard so much about because it certainly wasn't the much smaller, weaselly Ffon Harkun was pushing on her. "You – slave. No, Blood. Acolyte." She smiled. He was large. Strong. Handsome, for a pureblood. And most important, she could feel the power he radiated. Yes...he would do nicely. Harkun had assigned him the most difficult of the trials and he's succeeded magnificently. "You are the one who brought me this magnificent holocron from tomb of Marka Ragnos, yes?"

He inclined his head. "Yes, my lord. It was I that found the holocron."

Her smile widened. She was pleased that he was who she suspected he was. "Unbelievable, One thousand years, buried in the tomb. Sith Lords passing it by. And then – the most unlikely person comes along. Tell me – how did you manage it?"

He shrugged. It had truly not been that difficult, saying that aloud would only sound arrogant. "I reasoned that since it was lit up with power, overloading that power would shut it down. Simply put, I shorted it out with a burst of lightning."

She blinked and then laughed with mirth. "such a simple solution – why did none of us think of that? We must have thought too deeply on it, believed too strongly that it could not be done." She lifted her brow in speculation. "Or, perhaps, we were simply not meant to open it." Could there be something more about this Blood acolyte than just his power? Perhaps, the force favored him. Perhaps, he had a destiny. She grinned. Perhaps, his destiny was to benefit her. "Your work so far – bringing back this holocron and now the text from Tulak Hord's tomb…it has me intrigued. You have me intrigued. I am watching your progress eagerly. I have high hopes for you, acolyte."

"Ha! Harkun would love that – in fact, he'd probably choke on it if he knew." He smiled at her. "Perhaps, I should tell him – that would be amusing to watch."

She laughed again. "I like you, acolyte. Perhaps one day we will watch that together. For now, Harkun is only there to weed out the weak. You are not weak. Beyond that, his opinion means nothing. Good luck, acolyte – and watch your back. Ffon will try to take what he wants. And that would be disappointing – Ffon doesn't make me laugh." Nor did he have the Blood's power. Ffon would be a poor consolation prize. She patted his shoulder as she passed him on her way out.

Interesting. It would appear the sith lord favored him. Ffon, however, did not concern him at all. He was an entitled brat and nothing more. If his brother had never frozen him in carbonite while he was back was turned, he'd have likely been a lot like Ffon.

As he neared the door, the only one of his acolyte group in the office was Ffon. Were the others late? Early? Or had they run? Or been killed by Ffon. But the truth had a way of hiding around sith. He doubted he'd ever find out.

Harkun looked up at the slave from his desk and grunted. "I was just about to send Ffon off. What delayed you, slave?"

He shrugged. "I ran into Lord Zash in the hall. We had an enjoyable conversation. It would appear, we lost track of time."

"Just like a slave to make up stories," Harkun scoffed. "Lord Zash would crush you like a gizka if you ever crossed her path. You're not worthy of her presence."

Vrok looked down at himself. "Considering I do not, indeed, look like a gizka – though I have seen a few red ones, I admit…then I suppose Lord Zash decided to do the crushing at a later date." He tossed the datapad onto the desk. "The text you requested."

He glanced down briefly to ascertain that it was the text and then frowned. "No doubt it's been badly damaged," he sneered. "It's what we get for sending a careless lowlife to do a sith's job – isn't that right, Ffon?"

Ffon's lip curled up in frustration. "What are we waiting for, overseer? Why don't we kill this wretch now?"

"Because you aren't capable of such an endeavor," Vrok shot back.

Harkon rose from his chair. "You have a big mouth, slave, but no combat skills. I don't want to see you again until you've satisfied the Korriban instructors. The training facility is on the second floor of the Academy and is usually reserved for the Dark Lords and their apprentices." He slammed his palms down on the desk and leaned forward. "This is not a promotion, and you are not to speak to anyone except the training master when you are up there, understand? You are not fit for their presence."

Considering he'd been training up there nearly every day since his arrival and talked to quite a few in passing, Harkun's words were little more than hot air. "As you say."

There was something off about the slave from the beginning. He did not talk like an uneducated buffoon. He talked as though he were educated and that was a joke. Slaves were rarely educated beyond the job they'd been assigned. "Do not think mimicking your betters elevates your standing. You will never be anything more than an entertaining joke to them. No get out of here!"

On his way to the training room a noise in a nearby room caught his attention. It was Balek and Wydr. So, the twins were still alive. He entered the room to greet them. "I had thought Ffon might have tried to kill you both," he admitted.

Wydr looked at his brother. "He did, Vrok. Or at least he threatened to if we did not find a way to kill you."

Balek glared at his brother. "Why did you have to go and tell him? Now, we can't get the jump on him!"

"One flaw in that plan. I've already seen you. For you to get the jump on me, as you so eloquently spoke, you would have had to attack before I knew you were there," he pointed out.

Balek shook his head. "I'm sorry man, I liked you. I really did."

"But Harkun made us a deal," Wydr explained. "We kill you and we go home. If we don't Ffon kills us."

"We can't beat Ffon," Balek added with a frown. "And we'll never be sith. At least this way, we can go home- alive."

Vrok silently looked from brother to brother. He did not want to kill two desperate young men afraid for their lives.

"I can assist," Blip told him in little more than a whisper.

Vrok nodded. "Do pardon, but your theory is fundamentally flawed. For you to leave alive you would have to defeat me. I was assigned the deadliest trials of the group and yet here I am. So, tell me – do you believe you could defeat me?"

Balek and Wyrd and both of their shoulders slumped. "You may still get out of this debacle alive. I have a droid friend that will help you get onto the shuttle. Blip – explain your plan."

Blip appeared over his shoulders, causing the two men to jump back in surprise. "I will get the assistance of a laundry droid and acquire your traveling clothes. I will also alter your identichips so that it shows you are both merchants. That means, you will need to discard your practice sabers."

He felt Blip slide down his robe and knew the little droid was already on his way. "I wouldn't have you go unarmed." He unbuckled the holstered blaster and handed it Wydr. Then he did the same for his electro-blade. "I will place your practice sabers in the training room's weapon stands." When they handed him their blades, he tucked them under his arm. "Wait here for Blip to return. He will accompany you to the shuttle before he returns to me. Do as he instructs, and you will make it offworld.

"Thank you, Vrok. I never thought I'd say that to a Blood. You are nothing like Ffon."

"Unless this is a trap," Balek points out.

"Well, yeah. Unless it's a trap," Wydr agreed.

Vrok pursed his lips. "If I wanted you dead, I would simply kill you. However, I do not wish for your death. I would rather you return home and do what you will to make your home a better place to live. It is a far nicer way to return home than in a box, is it not? Now, wait here for my friend. I have an appointment to keep with a trainer." With that, he departed and did not look back.

When he entered the training room, he discovered no one was waiting for him. Interesting. So, his coming up here was nothing more than an ambush. He smiled. No matter. He would use it to his advantage.

-BREAK TWO-

For the next two weeks, he trained – though sparring would be more accurate. It wasn't because he needed the practice – not that practice wasn't important, but he'd never forgotten his teachings. His saber technique varied from what was currently being taught and the masters wanted him to share his technique with them, even as he learned newer moves. In doing this, he'd earned a certain level of respect from those that came to watch him or learn from him. When both sides had learned all they could, he was released back to Harkun with a glowing report.

When the filthy slave arrived, Harkun's lips drew into a small, tight smile. Ffon was about to be Lord Zash's apprentice. There was nothing this hulking pile of refuse could do that would stop that from happening. He was so pleased with the looming outcome that it didn't even bother him when he got Darth Regis' glowing recommendation over a lowly slave. "Well, well. Look who shows up at long last. Don't think that two weeks of training has changed anything. You know next to nothing. Sith train years – your two weeks is a pathetic joke."

He could feel Blip's hold tightening and knew the droid was angered by the overseer's words. Vrok grinned. "As you say, overseer."

Harkun paced back and forth in front of his desk. "I half expected to hear you'd crossed some dark lord upstairs and finally gotten yourself killed."

"Sorry to disappoint, overseer."

He pulled to a stop and glared at the slave. It certainly would have made it easier if he had died up there. That he survived the two acolytes and the dark lords was galling. "None of the others have shown up either. I assume they're dead by now – which means you and Ffon are the last two."

"That is an astute observation, overseer." This time Vrok didn't smile. He wanted Harkun to realize he actually was serious with that barb.

"I didn't ask your opinion, slave! Your final trial will be to retrieve an ancient map from the innermost chamber of Naga Sadow's tomb – which has never been breached in thousands of years. But before you get the map, you'll have to awaken an ancient assassin called a dashade that sleeps in the tomb. You cannot access the map without him, understand?"

Beautiful. A dashade. Not a creature to be taken lightly. "Of course."

"Good." Harkun replied. "Oh – and one more thing. You'll be competing with Ffon for this map. Whoever brings it back will be Lord Zash's apprentice. The other will die. And Ffon's already started." He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. "My advice? Run, slave. Run."

Harkun's eyes widened when he saw Lord Zash enter his chamber. He cleared his throat. "Lord Zash…what are you doing here?"

Her spine stiffened at his impudence. "Overseer, are you implying that I – a lord of the sith – don't have the right to go where I please within the Academy of the Sith?"

His arms fell to his side. "No, of course not, Lord Zash," he said hastily.

"Good," she said with smile. "I saw the last acolyte arrive. I wanted to see the hopefuls off on their final trial. Where's – um – what's his name…the small red one…Ffon?"

"He finished his trial early, so I sent him on rather than keeping him waiting for this -"

Zash lifted a brow. "Pity," she replied, cutting him off. "I just finished translating the wonderful text this acolyte brought from Tulak Hord's tomb and it's most illuminating. I don't know if the map can be retrieved without it."

Now the text made sense. It spoke of the dashade. How to entrap it and how to release it. But until now, he had not known how it related to his trial. "It can't," Vrok responded. "Now that I have discovered there is a dashade I must release in my trial; the text makes sense. It speaks of how the deshade was entrapped and how it could be released…among other things."

Her mouth fell open in a brief moment of shock and then a wide smile spread over her lips. Oh, this one could be useful. "I didn't realize you could read ancient sith! I could have used your assistance translating it. So, then you know how to open the door to the dashade?"

"I do," he responded with a nod.

"What?" Harkun exclaimed. "Ffon already left. You can't just -"

Zash smiled sweetly. "Can't what? Give one acolyte an unfair advantage over the other? Overseer, when has being sith ever been about being fair? And haven't you been doing just that all along? Giving Ffon lighter trials and Vrok the most dangerous?" she pointed out. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? No…fairness has nothing to do with anything, does it, overseer?"

"No, it doesn't, Lord Zash," Harkun grumbled, irritated that he could do nothing to gainsay the Dark Lord.

"Of course not. Now, my dear acolyte, remember that the dashade is a force-resistant assassin – I have reason to believe this one was placed in the tomb by Tulak Hord himself." She ran her hands down her robes to straighten a few pesky wrinkles. "I will return when both acolytes are back from the tomb. You," she narrowed her gaze on Harkun, "will not do anything further to affect the outcome of the trial. Understood?"

He inclined his head to her. "Yes, Lord Zash." The rage of her dismissal boiled in his veins, but there was nothing he could do about it.

She smiled sweetly once more. "Good. And good luck, acolyte." If things went as she'd hope, the large Blood would be her next apprentice. She patted his very hard, very large arm on her way out of the chamber.

"Get out of my sight, slave – before I kill you myself!" Harkun all but roared.

He smiled and gave the overseer a slight bow. "As you wish," he calmly and with little emotion. Once he left the academy, he remained vigilant. Ffon was out there waiting for him. "Be wary," he murmured to Blip. Ffon will ambush us. He won't be able to open the door to the dashade. All he can do is wait until I do or attack sooner, hoping I have something on me that will open the way."

"Do you want me to zap him" Blip asked, bouncing up and down on Vrok's back with excitement.

"Only in self-defense, little friend. Ffon is mine to deal with," he replied. "But you are most welcome to zap anything else that attacks us."

In the tomb, there were other acolytes standing around. Of course. Lord Zash would hardly be the only Dark Lord seeking an apprentice. He barely broke a sweat taking the attacking acolytes down.

After locating the rods in varying tomb chambers, he headed towards the dashade chamber as was described in the text he'd acquired for Zash.

As he entered the new passageway, he could see the dashade imprisoned in a field of power. But his cell was on a central pylon, surrounded by a field of electrical energy. Soon, they ran into more droids that protected the inner sanctum of the dashade's prison. He could swear he heard Blip's laughter as the small droid hopped atop his larger cousins to overload their circuits.

They skirted the narrow walkway that surrounded the dashade's prison sanctum until he was able to see a bridge that extended to the central pylon that held the dashade captive within a field. Good. One less consideration. Prior to seeing that, he was uncertain how he would reach the creature.

Droids littered the path to the dashade. At least they did by the time that he and Blip got through with them. The last of the droids fell in an octagonal chamber that held the door leading to the imprisoned monster. Statues surrounded four alters around the room. He read the inscriptions on the walls behind the alters and discovered where he had to place the rods. Each alter had a slot that held a correspondingly runed rod topped with a crystal. He matched the rods to the alters, sliding them into place. When the last one was placed, a hum passed through the floor and the crystals lit up.

A small stone platform rose out of the central raised dais. An invitation, it would seem. Just as the text had foretold. "Blip – move to the edge of the room." When the droid did as he asked, he stepped up onto the center platform. Lightning shot out of the crystals, one at a time, multiplying the energy that was hitting him. Electricity slammed into his body, shooting down his arms and legs like ice in his veins. He focused on harnessing the onslaught, wrapping it into a ball within him. When he gained control of the current, he grinned.

He raised his arms to the locked door and released the pent-up energy, letting the crystals' energy pass through him to strike the door. He inhaled sharply when the crystals' power depleted and the door slid open.

Khem saw the door open and excitement slithered through him. He'd waited too long for his master's return. His gaze narrowed on the red sith. This was not right! "Ha! All the world conspires to mock me! HaHa! Tulak Hord! I waited for you. I did everything you said! And this is what you send to me? Ha!" He turned his head to get a better look at the Blood. "Fate is cruel to me, little one. But not as cruel as it is to you. You have made a terrible mistake."

"I think not," he replied calmly. "I am not the one speaking to a man who is not here."

"No! Ha! No, little one. I am not insane. The world mocks me, and I laugh with it."

"That is a healthy attitude," he admitted. "One I follow as well." Even so, the creature's words made little sense.

"I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord, who was called Lord of Hate, Master of the Gathering Darkness, Dark Lord of the Sith. Together, Tuklak Hord and I devoured our enemies at the battles of Yn and Chabosh and brought the entire Dromund system to its knees. And now, I await his return."

"I am Vrok Acheron, acolyte of the sith academy, servant to none. I'm in search of a map that only you can get me to. I am also sorry to inform you that your master, Tulak Hord died quite some time ago."

Khem twisted in the field that held him. "Dead? My lord, why didn't you come for me? I would have died with you – no…I would have slain death itself!" He turned his heated gaze on the Blood. "As for you, you should not have come here. I hunger – and I will devour you!"

"Blip!" He shouted when he saw the monster struggling to break free of the force field that held him suspended. "Back away from me! Get off the bridge!" He barely heard the scrabble of his little metal feet, the dashade's bellow nearly drowned out everything. And then he charged.

The following battle was harder than he'd expected but not as difficult as it should have been for such a creature. Prison had done the dashade no service. That, however, worked to his advantage.

Khem dropped to one knee and gasped for breath. When the Blood backed off, he rose to his feet. The Blood had proven surprising, cunning and powerful. Nothing would go his way this day. "Ha! Defeated! Defeated!" He lifted his head, looking up at the chamber's ceiling. "Why did you not come for me? Why have you allowed your servant to be reduced to this?" he demanded.

He ground his teeth together in impotent fury. "Fine, little one. In my great weakness, you have defeated me, so I must serve you – this is the law that binds me. But you are not my master."

"On that we can agree," he retorted. He had no desire to be anyone's master. "Wait - little one?" Vrok enquired as they walked along the bridge. "I dare say, you are not much larger than I, myself, am," he pointed out.

"True. Most of your kind is smaller…and weaker. But it is obvious I outweigh you," Khem fired back.

"You do, at that," Vrok acquiesced. "Might need to work on that," he teased.

The dashade stopped for a brief moment. "Ha! You are funny, little one," he said as he started following once more. "But someday, I will regain my strength. Today, I will not eat you."

"That would probably be the best for your stomach. I'm sure I'd be tough and gamey. Blip! Show yourself. Khem, this is my friend Blip," he said when the little RE-1 unit appeared. "I am not his master either. The only person I will ever master is myself."

"Don't eat me either," Blip told Khem, as he climbed up Vrok's robe. "I have too many sharp pieces and don't contain enough minerals to be a viable supplement."

Why would he eat a droid? That was absurd. "You are no more appealing than a rock, little Blip. I prefer to eat sith and jedi," Khem assured the droid. "This way, little one." He led them deeper into the chamber and slammed a weak point in the rock wall.

Together, he and Khem cleared the passages of nesting shyracks. But that wasn't all that awaited them. The chamber that contained the map also contained a large, spiky terentatek.

"This is going to be fun!" Khem growled as he charged the massive beast.

Working together, the two were able to bring the beast down. Afterwards, both stood tall, neither wanting to show the other how winded they were.

Khem motioned up to the dais at the top of the stairs. "Your map, master."

Vrok hissed in a sharp breath. "Thank you, Khem and do not call me that. Do not call me master, I am Vrok."

"You are strange for a sith," Khem stated with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

Vrok grinned. "Do tell. I have been on both sides, Khem. Both lord and servant. I will never enslave another or be called master again."

"And yet, here I am. Bound to you regardless," Khem grumbled. It was truly perplexing. A sith that did not want a servant and a servant that wanted no master – both bound together in a bond neither wanted.

"So, it would seem. Perhaps, the reason will make itself known…in time." His gaze lifted to the swirling map of planets that was being projected. "Let's get this done."

Blip raced ahead of Vrok and Khem and hopped up onto the terminal. His jointed feet worked rapidly as he sliced in. "I need your datapad," he told Vrok.

Vrok put the datapad away once the map was downloaded. He could easily have done what Blip had done, but he knew his friend needed to feel useful. Afterall, he'd gone from a job that kept him busy to riding a shoulder.

Leaving the prison chamber was much quicker than arriving. But then, there was no one left to attack them. Even the droids remained inert. He wasn't sure when or if the repair droids would find them.

"My release was disappointing," Khem said with a last look at the prison that had held him for so many long years, "but I will not miss this place."

A being trap for hundreds of years only to be released to a different time. Where all he knew was long dead and buried. It was an all too familiar story. "We have more in common than you know. Perhaps one day I will tell you about it."

"Perhaps one day I will listen – if I don't eat you first."

They walked back to the academy in silence. He kept in stride with Khem. Every time the dashade slowed to walk behind as a servant would, he slowed his steps too. Khem said nothing, but did eventually catch on.

Khem was stunned by how different Korriban was from his time. "How things have changed. How long since my master's death?"

"Likely eight or nine thousand years. No records have been found," he told the dashade.

Khem said nothing more and that was understandable. There were a great many losses he had to face when he was thawed from carbonite. He could see Ffon and the overseer talking together in the office as he approached. He was surprised that Ffon had not ambushed him after he'd gathered the rods. But he doubted the other Blood would wait much longer.

Ffon waved his hands in frustration. "I told you, overseer, it cannot be done. I went into the tomb, I saw the dashade across the chasm, but I could not get to it."

Harkun's hands slapped down on his desk. "But the map! Lord Zash is adamant – she will not take an apprentice without the map!"

"And I told you – Lord Zash wants the impossible! No one is ever going to get that map!"

Vrok grinned. "Do you, perhaps, mean this map?" he asked as he waved the datapad in the air.

Harkun's eyes opened wide when the datapad displayed a brief holo-map before dimming. "The map! And – the dashade! G-get that monster out of here this instant! And give me the map!" he barked.

Ffon glared at the other Blood. "That's not possible! You wretch, you filth – you must have cheated somehow. How did you do it? How did you release the monster?"

Khem had heard enough. "I'm not a monster! I am Khem Val, servant of Tulak Hord, devourer of the rebels at Yn and Chabosh, consumer of the Dromund system." He moved towards the two other sith. "And I am hungry…"

Ffon took a step away from the monster. "R-right, you – you must have cheated – you must have! You'll pay for this!"

"Patience, Ffon!" Harkun snapped. "You will have your chance at this whelp – after you personally deliver this map to Lord Zash."

Vrok looked over at the dashade. "You can eat them or I will kill them, I will leave that choice to you, my friend."

"With pleasure," Khem growled as he took another step towards his dinner.

Zash had heard more than enough and quickly entered the room. "Keep your pet at bay for just a moment, acolyte. I would have a word with Ffon."

Relief flooded through Ffon. Her arrival could not have been better. "Lord Zash?"

"Where is my map?" she asked point blank.

Perhaps things would go his way after all. He held out the datapad. "Right here, Lord Zash."

Zash took the map from his hand and smiled as she glanced down at it. This is what she'd needed. Everything was perfect – except for one detail. "You found it for me, Ffon? How wonderful. I know you wouldn't lie to me, would you, Ffon? Because it would be a shame for me to discover that you lied to me. Now, answer me - did you bring this map back from Naga Sagow's tomb?"

He nearly told her he had, but bit his tongue at the last moment. Something was off. There was a look in her eye that sent a shiver down Ffon's spine. "I-I-n-no. No, I didn't. I'm sorry, Lord Zash. I – I was not the one to retrieve it. No. I'm sorry."

Zash tore her gaze away from the greedy acolyte to sear Harkun with it. "Harkun, you idiot! What were you trying to prove? That you could outsmart me? That you knew better than me what kind of person I wanted for an apprentice?" She turned her fury on Ffon, lightning arching from her fingertips until long enough to ensure his death. She cut the current and the body dropped to the ground, unceremoniously.

"There's your pet, Harkun. Clean this mess up! Apprentice," she said, turning to the Blood with a smile, "meet me in my chambers upstairs."

He watched his new master leave. FFon hadn't died by his hand, but at least he would not be killing any more acolytes to advance his greed.

"I wanted to eat him," Khem grumbled.

"I suspect there will be plenty to eat soon enough." Such tended to be the life of a sith. His brows drew together when he saw the loss in the overseer's eyes. Perhaps, Ffon had meant more to Harkun than he knew. He sighed. "I'm not sorry to be alive, but I am sorry things turned out the way they did. While you made your feelings most obvious, I learned a lot from you." He'd learned a lot about the sith of today and that knowledge would protect him.

Harkun looked up at the Blood in surprise. "What?" He cleared his throat. "Well, I guess it is an overseer's job to – to – inspire his charges. Now…get going, slave. I mean…apprentice."

Vrok smiled after he turned around. Not because he'd made the overseer feel better. Never that. But because he'd saved a bridge from being burned. Harkun may well come in handy someday. And maybe, just maybe, he would think twice before treating someone else the way he'd treated him.

Once they were upstairs, an assistant pointed him to Lord Zash's office. It was getting late, but he thought it was in his best interest not to keep his new master waiting. Right now, the game must be played and that meant he needed her. But that wouldn't always be the case.

Her office was grander than the others he'd seen up until now in the academy. What looked to be training stations lined both walls leading up to a desk on a raised platform. It was evident the chamber was used for instruction purposes. Or, at least, had been at one time.

Zash looked up when she felt power moving closer to her. She smiled when the heavy foot tread proved it to be her new apprentice…and the dashade. From what she'd been able to find out, the beast was now bound to her apprentice. Perhaps it would prove useful as well. "Ah, my magnificent new apprentice. Congratulations are in order, I believe."

He inclined his head. "And so are thanks. I appreciate that you have given me this opportunity." He may not have been an apprentice through a sith academy in his previous life, but he knew apprentices were good for only one thing. To be used until they became a threat and then killed. Her sweet smiles and kind words did not once cause him to think their relationship would end any different. From what he'd seen, sith still play the same games – perhaps even more so than when he was young.

Her smile widened. "You've earned it, my apprentice." She could not have asked for a better apprentice. "Now, I was just looking over this astonishing map you brought back, and I can tell we have a lot of work ahead of us." She rose from her desk and walked around to its front, pulling a second lightsaber from her belt. "This is the lightsaber I had as an apprentice." She slowly turned it on her palm and then tossed it to him. "I want you to have it."

He smiled and flipped the blade on, running a few quick moves. "Nicely balanced," he said as he deactivated it and snapped it to his magbelt. "You honor me, Lord Zash."

She beamed a smile. "Excellent! I'm glad you like it. It has served me well." And will again in the future. For now, it was in the hands it needed to be in. It would all work out. It had to. "I know you have questions but we can't talk about it here - too many unfriendly ears. You must meet me on Dromund Kaas. We'll talk more there."

"I will leave tomorrow on the next shuttle that goes out," he informed her.

"Good. Meet me in my chambers in the Citadel in Kaas City. Do you have a micro-terminal?" she asked.

"I do." He lifted his arm in her direction and felt the hum as her MT pinged his.

Interesting. She had thought she'd have to get him one. "There." She lowered her arm. "I have sent you the coordinates. We can speak more freely of the work ahead on Kaas City – without the fear of unfriendly ears." Her steps hurried from her office. She had a lot to do in very little time.

He glanced down at MT and saved the coordinates and then looked over at the dashade. Perhaps, they would see if there was a shuttle going out tonight. He doubted his roommates would want to sleep next to Khem. Not that he blamed them. "Let's get something to eat - something not alive and then see about transportation."

"I may yet eat you, little one," Khem groused, his hunger almost more than he could bear.

Ortosin stepped forward as the Blood stepped out of Lord Zash's office. The slave was a pureblood? No matter, he would do as he was bid. "Stop right there, slave. Darth Skotia has a message for you."

"It is most amusing that one must tear another down to feel better about themselves. Do you need a hug?" Vrok teased.

Ortosin's hand dropped down to the hilt of his lightsaber. "Don't think about touching me."

Vrok crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm waiting?"

Ortosin frowned. "For what?"

Vrok released a slow breath. "For the message." He grinned when the apprentice's face flushed a pleasing shade of red.

"Oh! You -" He bit back a growl when the monster just stared at him. "The message is this: You will not go to Dromund Kaas. Everything you've done here, everyone you dealt with – Lord Zash included – is insignificant. Darth Skotia has eyes and ears on Korriban. He knows what your master is up to and he is displeased to say the least. On Korriban, Lord Zash may have her way. But on Dromund Kaas, it's another story. So, you see, you have to die."

"I do, do I?" He looked over at Khem. "Khem, what is it you do to Force users again?"

"I consume them and spit out their bones." He smiled.

He shuddered. Seeing a dashade smile was a daunting experience. Perhaps he would get used to it, given time. He glanced at the three humans in their way and then back at Khem. "Can you eat them quickly?" At the dashade's nod, he smiled.

Todd swallowed hard and took a step back. "Um, Ortosin – is that a dashade? Maybe this isn't such a good idea."

Ortosin drew his weapon. "Coward! Fight, you fool!" They had no choice; if they didn't kill the Blood and his monster, Darth Skotia would be displeased. That usually ended in a great deal of pain and possibly death. He'd rather take his chances here.

And so, a fool and his life were soon parted. He watched in fascination as a blue, tangible mist was pulled from the three men; a majority of it seeping from their mouths and ears, reaching out in lengthening tendrils towards Khem's open mouth. When the last of the energy slipped from the corpse, the dashade's teeth clacked together when his mouth shut.

Khem looked down at his master, though he admitted they were nearly eye to eye. "It was faster," he explained. "Unless, we have the time for me to devour them properly?" he asked hopefully.

"No – no. I need to eat, too, before we hunt down transportation off this dusty hellscape." Watching a dashade eat a corpse, human or otherwise, was not at the top of things he wished to see.

In the cantina, the other patrons gave them a wide berth. No matter, he was here to eat not make new friends. He ordered Khem several large, raw nerf steaks, while he, himself, enjoyed a couple of the cooked version. He was also surprised to discover that the dashade had a weakness for marble berries, a plump, round red fruit that he pierced with his claw and then popped into his mouth with evident relish.

Wiping the juice from his chin on the back of his hand, Khem glared at the Blood. "My will may be bound, but such bonds can be broken, and make no mistake – I will devour you."

"As you say," he nodded and stabbed another piece of steak into his mouth.

Why did the little sith never get angry? He did not scream. He did not howl with rage. He did not seethe and threaten death. He was no Tulak Hord. Still, his power was undeniable. Unfortunately, he would not be able to amuse himself by threatening the Blood, because the Blood refused to act like a normal sith. While he did find the sith's words amusing at times, all forms of amusement were not the same. He would have to find another way to goad his master. "You will see I'm kept properly fed, little sith or I will eat you."

Vrok studied the dashade and nodded absently as he considered all the death that was likely to be in his future. This was not the life he'd envisioned, but it was the life he had. "I suspect, by the time we are done, you will have fed to excess."

Khem leaned forward, his forearms on the table, the table creaking under the weight. "My hunger is never slaked, and you are no Tulak Hord. But I will serve you faithfully, my m – Vrok Acheron, until I am free."

So, the dashade did know his name. Interesting. He wiped his mouth and set the cloth over his tray. "I do not ask for you to serve me, only that you will be there for me - as I will be there for you until such a time as the bond is broken and you decide to leave."

The small droid nodded his head rapidly, though no one could see the movement. "I wondered if you would catch that," Blip said quietly. "Nothing gets by you."

"Would that it were, my friend," Vrok responded back just as quietly.

When they finally returned to his room, he was informed that he'd been moved to the apprentice section of the academy. Once he'd located his new room, he discovered that he did not share the small room with anyone else. Unfortunately, it had one bed and one sofa. Neither one of them would fit in the sofa and he had no desire to share a bed with Khem. Instead, he gathered what little he had. "Let's check the shuttle's schedule.

As luck would have it, a shuttle was scheduled to leave in little over an hour and a half.

-BREAK THREE-

The shuttle took them to a spaceport, where they boarded The Malcontent to Dromund Kaas. For the next number of days, Khem had to live on strictly normal food and that made him more surly than usual, even the dashade's dry humor vanished. The constant threats of eating him didn't bother Vrok. So long as the dashade was bound to him, he was more than safe. And if the bond broke? The dashade may be immune to direct force manipulation, such as imposing thoughts to manipulate his mind and body, etc...but he wasn't safe from hurled objects or weather created from the force's energy – nor was he immune to lightsaber attacks. Either way, Vrok could defend himself, were it to prove necessary.

Blip disappeared for hours on end. But the little RE-1 unit had the same drive to learn as much as possible, so it wouldn't have surprised him to learn the droid was slicing into the ship's databases and archives. He didn't ask Blip what he was doing. He did not need to. He knew the droid would come to him if he learned anything of importance.

Unlike Korriban, Blip didn't go into stealth mode anymore – at least not when they were all together. Vrok was no longer an acolyte and having his own droid simply didn't matter anymore. Blip had already made sure the proper ownership license was in place. In fact, if anything was to be questioned, it would be his own age. Not too many people walking around out there over 1500 years old. Up until now, his slave status allowed him to get around unscanned. He wasn't quite sure what would happen now.

As for Khem, whether he wanted it or not, the dashade was considered his slave and thus his responsibility. While some thought the creatures extinct, no dashade was allowed in Sith controlled space without being properly monitored – especially on Korriban or Drumond Kaas, each of which had a high sith count. The dashade was a threat and threats were either destroyed or controlled and used. So, everyone would assume Khem was his slave and disabusing that pretentious notion might make things difficult for both Khem and himself.

Entering Dromudn Kaas' main entry hub, he came to a halt and frowned at the admittance terminals. The armed guards ensured no one entered without declaring themselves. "This is new. My identity and age may become an issue."

Blip cloaked and drew itself up higher on Vrok's shoulder. "I will see that you are approved, Vrok."

As Vrok approached one of the terminals, he could feel Blip moving lower down his robe. He heard the slightest whir sound as the droid extended its interfacing umbilicus. With a tug on his robe, he activated the scanner and declared the deshade and the RE-1 unit. The scan flashed green and his lips twitched as he hurried away from the scanner – not wanting to take any chances of a rescan.

He didn't get very far, when a human, trailed by two trandoshans swerved right into his path. He crossed his arms and refused to step aside. The man came to stop just before walking into him. Cyberentics covered much of the human's face.

Skeesk tilted his head as recognition set in. "My Master! Isn't this the soft-skinned Blood – the toy of Zash, the golden-haired lord?"

Skotia frowned. The trandoshan language grating on his ears. "Quiet, bodyguard. Save your hissing for your own kind." He turned his eye on the large Blood in front of him. He had not thought the slave would be larger than himself. But he refused to show how looking up to the slave bothered him. "As for you, slave, Darth Skotia is passing – best get out of his way."

Vrok lifted a browridge and grinned. "As you say. Vrok will allow himself to step aside so that Darth Skotia can pass by."

"You dare to mock Darth Skotia?" the human growled.

"Not at all," Vrok smiled. "I have not been on Dromund Kaas before. I assumed, by your vernacular, that one must talk of oneself in the third person. So, I merely reciprocated."

His gaze narrowed on the Blood. The Blood did not conduct himself like a slave, nor did he speak like one. That, he found irritating. How dare a slave mimic his betters. "Give your master a message for me. My eye is on her and I know what she's trying to do here on Dromund Kaas. You and your master have gotten this far – but it ends here, slave. I alone have the key. Tell her that." He saw the Blood smile again and fury whipped through him. "Why are you smiling! Are you an idiot?" Yet how can an idiot control a dashade. When the dashade grinned, he could barely contain his shudder. Repulsive monster.

His smile widened. He cared not if the man thought him a fool. Fools were underestimated and that suited him fine. "Of course, who am I to disabuse your assumptions?"

The Darth's lip lifted in a snarl. "You and your master have no future on Dromund Kaas or in the Sith Order. Tell her that! Now, get out of my way!"

"As you say." Vrok stepped to the side and motioned with a slide of his hand for the Darth to pass by.

"Do you try to get under everyone's skin, little sith?" Not that Khem minded. It was amusing to watch for the most part.

"Only those that cannot see past their bloated egos. I do so enjoy playing with them," Vrok admitted.

"So, what you mean is pretty much everyone on Drumund Kaas?" Blip enquired.

Vrok laughed loud enough to draw attention as he hurried through the lobby. "I imagine I shall irritate a great many personages here. And if they attack, well then Khem will have a feast."

"Now that is something I'd enjoy, little sith. Make their blood boil, it tenderizes the meat," Khem informed him.

Ugh. He could have gone without knowing that. "Then, let us see what kind of trouble we can get into."

Once they exited the hub, he rented a taxi to take him to Sith Sanctum in Kaas City. The pitter patter of rain hit the taxi's roof. "It always rains on Dromund Kaas – or so I was told. It appears to be an accurate assessment." He peered out the window and frowned. From what he could see, there was scant utilitarian architecture surrounded by jungles. He wondered if it would take much for the jungles to reclaim this dank planet. One thing he did know for certain, this planet was steeped with the dark side of the force. He would need to be vigilant and not allow it to change him.

The Taxi settled on a covered pad outside of Kaas City. Great. Apparently, you can fly over the city, but you could not land within its boundaries. He looked out at the rain and shook his head. "This is going to be fun. Not the kind of shower I was looking forward to."

The rain was colder than expected and his pace quickened. He followed the locator beacon on his MT and frowned when it led him to another taxi droid. He laughed heartily. It would appear the joke was on him. By the time they exited the second taxi, the sun had come out and the rain had stopped. He wrung as much water as he could from his clothing and then proceeded towards the Sith Sanctum. He passes through a field he could not even see and discovered his hair and clothing were completely dry.

It was odd how such an insignificant thing, such as being wet, can make a person feel more vulnerable. Maybe it was the weight or the cling of clothing. The threat of water dripping down to obscure your vision. He did not have an answer for that. Now that he was dry once more, however, he felt at one with his strength and power.

His master's chamber was as cold, sparse and uninviting as any of the chambers she'd called her own. This was not the life he wanted. He approached her desk. "It would seem I met a friend of yours, bearing ill tidings and an ominous message of doom. His name was Darth Cyborg, or some such," he proclaimed with a dramatic wave of his hand.

She rose from her desk as a cold fury swept through her. "Damn, Skotia! What business has he, going behind my back, speaking to my apprentice!" She rounded the desk to stand next to her apprentice. "Trying to intimidate you, no doubt." She saw him grin and she returned the grin. "Which he failed to do; it seems." Her smile faded. "You need to take him seriously, apprentice. He's a wretched monster. More machine than man and dangerously powerful. Ever since I arrived on Dromund Kaas as an apprentice, he's made every effort to stand in my way."

"He is

flesh," Khem stated as his claws curled in. "He can be killed."

She studied her apprentice for a moment. Large. Powerful. He would be able to do what she'd failed to do so far. Kill Skotia. "Ultimately, we cannot even begin the search for Tulak Hord's ancient power with Skotia's rattling breath on our necks."

"I suspect that you wish me to stop him from breathing," Vrok stated with a lift of his brow ridge. Despite the excuses he was sure that he was about to hear, his master had never taken care of Skotia herself. Which means she wasn't sure she could destroy the Darth. Why risk herself when she can risk someone expendable…like him. Typical sith strategy.

"Oh, I do," she replied with a warm smile. "Nobody will believe that a mere apprentice could defeat Skotia. It is impossible and that is why it will work." She nodded. "I have begun to piece together the puzzle for Darth Skotia's destruction – but some elements have yet to fall into place. Out in the jungle, a group of slaves recently revolted. They were working on a colossal statue that has since gone unfinished. I believe Skotia is hiding something of great importance near this statue. Get the archaeological plans to the area from one of the slaves and contact me by holocommunicator."

Khem growled softly. He did not like the witch. She was not worthy – she was full of lies and deceit and she smelled wrong. He took an aggressive step towards the witch. "This witch stinks of death. Give me the command and I will devour her!"

Vrock's hand shot out and gripped Khem's arm in warning. "We shall take our leave," he said with an incline of his head. As soon as they exited her chamber, he released his hold on the dashade. "There is a time and place for everything, Khem. For now, whether I like it or not, I have need of her."

"She is nothing but lies and deceit. It festers in her like an oily, writhing mass," Khem growled.

That was quite the lovely picture. "Thank you, Khem. I shall keep that in mind concerning my dealings with her. One day…I will no longer need her. We can both look forward to that." He was not one to kill his master for the sake of doing so. Violence was not his path of choice. But his suspicions were starting to mirror Khem's and he wondered what the endgame would be.

"You had better – or I will eat you too."

Vrok grinned. Sometimes he wondered if the dashade even meant those words. Perhaps he did and the honor bond was the only thing that kept him from attacking. Then again, perhaps he only repeated those words to try to get under his skin. "We need to find the apprentice quarters."

With help, he was able to locate the apprentice quarters and discovered he once again had the room to himself, well and Khem. This time, however, there were two beds. It would seem that Zash had prepared them for his and Khem's arrival. He was also handed a credit chip, with a stipend coming from his master. Perfect. It would allow him to save any money that he collected on his own.

He tossed the small bag of his possessions into the locker. "It's a little early for lunch, but we should grab something now." Some raw meat and a sandwich later, they were heading back out to the taxi.

"Don't kill anyone, if you can help it. It pleases me that the slaves have revolted and the Lords are unhappy," Vrok told them as they slid into the taxi.

"Slaves are not worthy opponents." Kem stated matter of fact. "They do not have the delicious scent of a force user, so are not worthy enough to eat either."

Vrok rubbed the bridge of his nose as the taxi lifted into the traffic. So, he smelled delicious, did he? "No licking – no tasting – no…breathing me in and no eating me, Khem."

Khem grinned. "Your power is very…mouthwatering."

"Khem," Vrok warned.

Khem's laugh was harsh and rusty. "I will not eat you today, little sith."

Blip spun his head around, tilting it to study the dashade. "You enjoy that too much."

"I do," Khem agreed with another grin.

The taxi dropped them off at Outpost Temest. The rain started coming down only a few minutes after they exited the taxi. Of course, it did. He pulled up the coordinates of the statue on his MT and began slogging through the dampening dirt, knowing soon his boots would be weighted down with mud. Lovely. They passed through two Imperial controlled check points and circumvented around the armed slaves between the two. As they went deeper into the slave-controlled area, a group of armed slaves literally ran into them as they ran blindly, looking over their shoulders. Before they could raise their blasters, he used the force to pluck the blasters from their hands and tossed them a few feet away with the wave of his hand. "I care nothing about your revolt. In fact, I applaud you for it. We're not here to hurt any of you – a fact you may wish to pass on. I'm only here to locate the statue monument's archeological plans.

Dren stepped forward. "Why do you want those?"

Vrok quirked a brow at the green twi'lek and shrugged. "To kill a Darth."

Dren's eyes widened. He would never understand the ways of the sith. "I created the blueprints." He untied the small leather tube at his waist. "If you really are going to kill a Darth – then it's my turn to applaud you." He handed the tube to the huge pureblood sith. "I can't believe I'm cooperating with a sith, but these are my blueprints." He gave the tube a jiggle.

He took the tube, pulled out the blueprints and glanced over them. "Perfect. Thank you. I will put them to good use."

"Then…you will let us go?" Dren asked hopefully.

He stiffened, feeling the approach of another force user. He'd never felt the force in such a way before. Still, his hand went for his blade and ignited it. "Go, with my gratitude. You were never in any danger from me." He spun, his ligtsaber ready to strike.

Dren rushed forward. "Don't hurt her! She's here to help us…" He took a fearful step back. "My lord."

He studied the Blood with eyes even more yellow than his own. She carried a green blade. There was no taint to her that he could sense. The hum of his lightsaber went silent as he flipped it off. "You are not sith."

Alorra kept her lightsaber at the ready. "No, I'm not. I am – or was…a jedi." He was not attacking her. She powered down her lightsaber, though kept it firmly in her hand. "And you are not attacking me."

"Nor are you attacking me, I might point out." That, too, he found strange. He was always taught the jedi were monstrous warmongers who killed everyone that disagreed with their ideology. Of course, he had never met one. Had that all been a lie to make their own behavior seem the lessor of the two evils?

She had met many sith, but never one like huge male in front of her. "Violence is always a last resort for a jedi. But it is the first resort for a sith – so why didn't you attack them to get what you wanted? Why haven't you attacked me – one you would deem enemy?"

"Much to Khem's disappointment," he said motioning with his thumb towards the dashade, "violence is a last resort for myself as well. It would seem that what I've been taught of jedi has been a lie," he admitted.

She motioned to the slaves. "The shuttle is this way. Please hurry." She turned to the surprising sith and held out her hand. "I am Alorra, working with Freedom Now. Come with us. You do not belong here any more than I do. There is a place for you among the jedi." She startled when she heard a shout.

"Go," he told her. "Get them off Dromund Kaas. I will distract the guards. It is enough to know that I would be accepted."

She hurried towards the shuttle, then spun around. "Who are you?"

"I'm Vrok Acheron. Ex son of a Lord, ex-slave – and if I cannot make a difference," he grinned, "ex-sith. Now, go!" He spun, lightning shooting from his fingers towards the jungle. "What do you expect me to do?" he growled at the Imperial soldiers. "I will not trample through the mud after your slaves. I will not do your jobs for you!"

"Y-yes, my lord. Right away, my lord!" Danart motioned with his hand. "This way, men! Do not let them get away!"

He laughed softly as the soldier splashed through the mud into the jungle.

"You should have let me eat the jedi," Khem grumbled.

"She played right into my plan, Khem. She financially hurt a great many people today. Not quite as satisfying as making their blood boil in person, but still amusing, nonetheless." It was more than that. But he knew Khem couldn't possibly understand how he felt about the sith.

"You are a strange, little sith," the dashade grumbled.

Blip warbled and blipped his approval, but remained silent. He knew exactly why Vrok had done what he'd done and even why he made light of it with the dashade.

He scanned the blueprints with his MT and sent them to Zash' frequency. He then pulled his communicator of his belt and activated it, pinging Lord Zash. Her holo appeared on the communicator. "I have the archaeological blueprints – there is a large chamber under the statue."

"I've got it!" she said in a cheery voice. "Let me see…ah, yes. You are right. How clever. I'd bet my complete collection of Naga Sadow's Yavin Four writings that you'll find what we're looking for in this chamber. You're looking for a tablet – it is a symbol of leadership of an obscure trandoshan cult -the lizards believe it was a gift from the deity, the Scorekeeper. Skotia stole the tablet and uses it to exert control over his trandoshan bodyguards."

Vrok nodded. "Sounds like a plan. I'll return the tablet to the trandoshans and destroy his immediate powerbase."

"Exactly, my clever apprentice! From what I know of Skotia, he'll have his apprentices guarding his base. I bet they have the keys to acquiring the trandoshan tablet. So, take care of them first," she told him before shutting down the channel.

"Command me and I will eat them," Khem replied eagerly.

"If they do not willingly hand over the keys, then you may do so." As much as it appalled him, the dashade did have to eat.

Their search near the statue led to a tunnel. It was their only prospect so far, so they ducked into the tunnel. The tunnel had been cut through rock and led to a bunker. He glanced over the blueprint once more, put it away and headed in. "Blip – go silent. Do what you can, but don't be seen."

Blip wiggled on Vrok's back as he cloaked himself. "This is going to be fun," he said quietly.

As soon as they entered the base, the alarms blared. They fought through the security and apprentices, while blip took off to disable the alarms. Blessedly soon, the room was quiet, though his ears still rang from the abuse.

Red-lighted cameras grew dark and Vrok grinned and waved at one of the cameras as he ran by. After they cleared out the passage, he held up three cards. "I believe these are the keys."

"I found the door that uses those keys," Blip's disembodied voice told them. He uncloaked. "Follow me!"

He led them to a thick metal door, with three small slots. He inserted the keys and the doors lights turned green. There was a whirring noise and the door slid up. "You were a great help, Blip!"

Ogathu spun around when he heard the door rise and powered on his lightsaber.

Khem was syphoning from the sith lord before the fight even started. The lord caught on quick and closed his mouth, but nothing could stop the onslaught. Khem's maw of serrated teeth open, blue tendrils of power slipping from the sith lord's nostrils and ears – even his ass. Vrok wondered if ass-power tasted as awful at it seemed. Not that he ever wanted to find out. It was obvious, if the power could not escape through the mouth, it would find alternative exits.

He turned away and saw the tablet sitting on a security table. But like all other security measures, Blip had ensured they were offline. He removed the stone tablet from the table and slid it into an interior robe pocket. It was a tight fit, but it would do.

He turned to look at Khem on their way out of the bunker. "Thank you for not properly eating a force user on Dromund Kaas. Fingers would point to us and we must avoid being exposed."

"You are feeding me. It is adequate for now. When it is not, I will eat you," Khem warned.

Vrok grinned. "You will try, my friend."

The trip back to the taxi was far easier. There were fewer slaves and he wondered if Alorra had come back for more. And the slaves they did pass, eyed them warily but did not attack.

He returned to the Sith Sanctum to retire for the night. Come morning, after breakfast, they went straight to Zash's office. "I've recovered the trandoshan relic," he informed her.

"Then we've both been successful. But the trandoshan bodyguards are only part of Skotia's defense. His greatest weakness is that he's mostly machine. The rogue Sith Lord Grathan is holding a cyborg expert named Dorotsech captive. He's developed a neutralizer for me, the kind that should destroy Skotia's cyborg elements. Find Dorotsech, get him to tell you where the neutralizer is and then silence him."

He nodded. "I will locate him."

She smiled sweetly. "With any luck, Skotia will soon be out of our way. And then we will be able to pursue Tulak Hord's lost power as we please."

Khem gnashed his teeth. "Ha! The power of Tulak Hord in the hands of a child. What a mockery."

This time, when they took a taxi, he made sure it got them as close to Grathan's as it could. There was a small outpost called The Wall. It was situated right in front of a bridge they needed to take to reach Grathan's grounds.

Three guards stood outside Grathan's compound wall. "Blip – I need you to locate a terminal and get me Dorotsech's location." He felt the droid climb down his robe. Once it was on its way, he approached the guards. "I am here to see…Lord Malfoy. He is visiting Lord Grathan and told me to ask for him by name when I arrived."

The guard looked down at his data pad. "I do not see any Lord Malfoy present today," he informed the Blood. I cannot let you in unless you are on the list. What is your name, my lord?"

"Lord Kallig." This was not an untruth. Upon his mother and uncle's death, he would have inherited the Kallig estate. He wondered if it still stood. One day, he would find out.

The guard scanned the list. "I'm sorry, my lord. But there is no Lord Kallig on my list. You will need to get your name cleared through Lord Grathan before I can allow you entrance to the compound."

Vrok rubbed the soft cartilage at the base of his chin that looked almost like a human's goatee. "That is most unfortunate news." He held his hands out and all three men lifted into the air, clutching at their necks. When they stilled, he lowered them gracefully to the ground. The men were not evil, they were simply trying to do their jobs. This was his guilt to bear. They quickly pulled the bodies into the bushes that lined the exterior wall.

Once past the gate, he drew little attention. Khem, on the other hand, drew every eye. He moved into the shadows, knowing the dashade would follow. A moment later, he felt the droid climb up his robes and his MT vibrated. He pulled up the details and smiled. "Dorotsech is nearby."

They left the shadows and rounded the closest building and slipped in through the door. The small building was empty. A large door that led to another room was locked, but it only took the press of a button to unlock it. They did not expect to be infiltrated. Now, if they could get in and out before the guards were found.

He approached the small, middle-aged human that rose form his pallet on the floor.

Dorotsech rose from his makeshift bed. "Please tell me Lord Zash sent you. Please. I can't stand it here any longer. I don't want to die!"

Vrok's browridges rose. "Why that is well and good. I have no wish to kill you. Are you the cyborg expert?

"Yes, yes, I am," he assured the huge Blood. "I have just what you need – just what Lord Zash wanted. My finest work yet – though I don't quite know what the use of it is."

"To fell a cyborg, my anxious friend. To do what it was meant to do," he explained.

"But that's just what I'm saying – I don't know how useful it will be. Lord Zash commissioned this weapon against cyborgs – thing is, most cyborgs are only ten percent machine. You need someone at least fifty percent for the neutralizer to do any real damage."

"I appreciate the warning, Dorotsech, but that sounds perfect for her needs."

He lifted his thin arms into the air. "Don't tell me anymore. I don't want to know. But it's yours. It's in the lab building, can't be missed. But Grathan wouldn't let me at the power cells I needed to power it. You'll need to steal those off his droids."

"Leave quickly and stay to the shadows. Draw as little attention as you can. If you are seen walk with a purpose and you will be able to make it out of the compound," Vrok instructed the frightened man.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will do as you say, my lord." He darted around the sith and his monster, eager to get away. Very far away.

-BREAK FOUR-

As they left Dorotsech's prison, four droids were approaching. He picked up a stone and threw it against a tree to the left. The four droids turned, without missing a beat, and headed for the tree, their rifles drawn. He shot a bolt, that slammed into the closest droid and arched out to strike the others.

When they were down, he released the energy and quickly removed the batteries from all four droids. They pulled the droids deeper into the shade of the tree. As luck would have it, his MT showed that the lab was in Grathan's estate on a lower level- and that was nearby. Up until his younger brother froze him in carbonite, he'd been known for his luck. Now, perhaps, it was coming back.

They hurried into the main estate building, with few guards giving them a second look. As far as the guards knew, they'd been cleared coming through front gate. Once inside, they barely missed two guards that turned a corner and were out of site. There presence might be challenged within these walls, so he intended to play it safe.

They took the lift down to second floor. He could see a number of guards, but none of them came forward to find out why they were here. All the better. They strolled straight through the massive room and down the hall on the opposite side. He turned right when the hall came to an end followed the path to the end chamber. This was where he needed to be.

"This place makes me uncomfortable," Khem stated when he stepped into the chamber.

A guardsman rushed forward. "Halt! You are not allowed in here." He swallowed hard when he saw the monster, his hands growing slick on his blaster. "Leave or you will be shot."

Vrok shook his head. "That is most unfortunate. For you see, I cannot leave until I have what I've come for. Either stand aside and live – or don't, and face another alternative."

Before the guard could tighten his ginger on the trigger, Vrok, ignited his lightsaber and drew it across the human's belly. The top half of his body slid to the side and landed on the floor next to its legs. A moment later, the legs gave out.

Those that ducked behind the computers and drew no weapons would survive. Those that fought, would not. When there was no one left willing to challenge him, he removed the device from the display and forced it as far into an inner pocket of his robe as he could get it. It was awkward, but at least it should allow him some mobility.

Alarms sounded in the building and he picked up his pace. He'd assumed it was because he'd left the researchers live, but he quickly realized it was the bounty hunters ahead of him, carting along a carbonite statue that had caused the stir. "Let's give them some assistance, shall we?" He ignited his lightsaber and jumped into the fray.

They fought side by side with the bounty hunters until they were far enough away from the compound that no one followed them further. Or perhaps there was none left to give chase. That did not sit well, but the deed was done. With an incline of his head to the bounty hunters, he watched them mount their speeders and take off. A speeder would have been nice about now. Instead, they returned to the taxi pad and Lord Zash.

Zash hurried towards her apprentice. "Not a moment too soon, apprentice. Tell me you have the prototype."

He looked at her flushed face, excitement written all over it. "I do."

"Fantastic. Magnificent. Perfect. Skotia is in his chambers now. Be ready – even the power you have over him, he will be a frightful sight. But remember, he stands between us and glory."

"As you say. I will go to his chambers and give the tablet to his bodyguards to release them from his service. Then I will use the prototype to disable his cybernetics. After which, I will kill him. Is that as you would have me do?"

"Exactly so! But be mindful – Skotia may be more machine than man. But he's no weakling in the force. Killing him will be a challenge."

"I would expect nothing less from a Dark Council member."

She grinned. "Oh, I wish I could be there to see the contortions on Skotia's malformed face when you destroy him!" She ran her hands down her robes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm due to make an appearance at a party in the Nexus Room cantina. Meet me there when you are done."

"We will join you as soon as we have eaten," he said with a slight bow as she all but sailed out of the room.

"Blip, can you locate Skotia's chamber?"

Blip hopped down from his robe perch and darted over to Zash's terminal at her desk. "Give me a moment – there. Got it. It is the left most room before you exit the Sanctum."

Vrok smiled and patted the top of the droid's head. "Perfect, my little friend. Let us see this done. Khem is hungry for Darth."

"You speak wisely, little sith. Darth before dinner. I am pleased."

They passed two guards as they entered the suite of rooms belonging to the Dark Lord.

Skeesk turned his head towards his master. "My master, the soft-skinned one, the toy of Zash approaches. What would you have us do, master?"

Skotia looked up from his seat at his desk and steepled his fingers, the tips repeatedly touching each other. "Nothing – yet. What makes this slave so bold as to enter my chambers? Tell me, slave, are you insane or do you have a death wish?"

"A deathwish, Dark Lord. Yours. I have been asked to kill you, and I hate to disappoint."

Laughter rumbled from Khem's throat. "I will enjoy this."

"Skeesk?" Skotia asked smoothly. "Kill them."

"Skeesk?" Vrok asked before the trandoshan could answer. He pulled the tablet from his robe. "With this tablet, I free you. Take your relic and go home."

"No!" Skeesk growled. "The mechanical one will pay for enslaving us!" He charged the Darth, his vibrosword arching towards the sith. His feet left the floor and the sword slipped from his hand when he rose up, the grip on his throat tightening.

Vrok grabbed the chair behind the Darth with his power and slammed it into the sith. The trandoshan fell to the floor, sucking breath through his damaged throat. He tossed the other trandoshan over to his friend and encapsulated them in a protection bubble.

"You will never be sith! You protect bodyguards that mean nothing. You subverted my authority. You took my slaves away from me. You attack me – a Dark Lord of the Council. I will not suffer such impudence. You are going to suffer before you die," Skotia promised, his cybernetics glowing red with his power.

As Vrok ignited his lightsaber, Blip climbed around his robe and reached a leg in to activate the prototype device and Khem started draining the force from Skotia. When the little droid dropped to the floor and skittered to a safer position, Vrok truck with a force-drain of his own, even as his lightsaber countered the Darth's blade.

A red current washed through Skotia's cybernetics and Vrok was careful not to make physical contact with the metal. Still, the Darth fought on, deflecting both of their barrages with skillful turns of his lightsaber. Vrok studied the Darth's movements, learning the styles the human favored and using them against him. Skotia slowly gave ground, until his legs gave out when his cybernetics failed all together.

Skotia scooted backwards, dragging his body away from the Blood and the monster until he bumped the steps of his raised desk. "What is this? How…did…you…Zash! Zash! You've killed me…"

Vrok raised his browridges. "I fear your eyesight may be failing, for I look nothing like Zash."

He barely had the strength to shake his head. "Mindless…you don't know what Zash can do. She will kill you…just…" he wheezed. "Just like…she's…killed…meee…." The last word little more than a whisper as the last breath left the Darth's body.

"When that day comes – I'll be ready for her," stated fervently and then released the trandoshans. "I know pride demanded you attack him – but it would only have led to your death. Take your tablet and go earn more points for your Scorekeeper. That is the best way to honor her."

Skeesk rolled his sore shoulder. "He speaks true. We must regain our honor."

Mesquin nodded. "You have our thanks, Blood. We will honor our Scorekeeper and the lives you saved."

He watched them leave. He could only assume the lives he saved was their own. With a shrug, he turned to leave but stilled when he heard a noise coming from a connected room. He approached the door, but it refused to open. "Blip…" The droid climbed down his robe and hopped onto the Darth's desk. Its umbilicus extended.

Blip hopped from one foot to the other in excitement. "Vrok – there is a jedi being held in there. No records…they don't appear to have gotten any information out of her. Give me another moment on that door."

Khem grinned. "I haven't eaten a jedi in a long time. It will be good."

He frowned at the dashade. "Skotia has her for a reason. He wanted something from her. That makes her intriguing and off the dinner menu."

"There! The door's open," Blip said as he jumped down from the desk and darted into the open door. "Oh. My…"

Vrok followed the droid in and stopped cold in his tracks. A woman was strapped to a table, her mouth gagged and her eyes bound. She was bruised and bloody. Machine arms whirled around her, slicing and electrocuting her. Her body convulsed, but no muffled screams could be heard. "Blip – stop this madness!"

But Blip was already hopping up on the console to deactivate the torture table.

The table's arms slid back into its base and the holobands released their hold. She lay there panting hard but saying nothing. "I'm not here to hurt you," he said softly as he approached the table. Her body stiffened and her head followed his approach despite her eyes being bound. "My name is Vrok. You are on Dromund Kaas. I killed Skotia, the man who did this to you. I'm going to unbind your eyes and mouth now. We need to get you to safety."

She didn't dare hope to believe anything she was told and certainly not by a sith. But right now, she didn't have the strength yet to fight. When her eyes were unbound, a blinding light assaulted her and she lifted her arm to shade her eyes. Wait. She was free. She rolled off the table and fell to her hands and knees, her breath coming in hard pants. Her head lifted and she glared at the red sith. She wanted to find her lightsaber, but she didn't dare look away from him. "What do you want from me?" she croaked in a dry voice.

Her long, brown braid had fallen over her shoulder. He knew she couldn't have much left in her, but she still stared defiantly at him. He respected that. "Is that how you treat everyone who deigns to rescue you?" he asked with a smile.

"You're a sith," she spit out.

He tapped his foot on the ground. "Yes…yes…And you are a jedi. Now that we have gotten that out of the way, would you care to go somewhere safe?" he asked her pointedly. "Before, I don't know…they catch us in a deceased Darth's room?"

"A sith cannot be trusted." But, really…what choice did she have? Maybe his kindness was a deception. But staying here or trying to escape on her own would lead to certain torture or death. Going with him would only lead to probable torture and death.

Blip darted over to her and scanned her. "I can see no broken bones, Vrok. We need to go, jedi. Vrok is honorable. He helped a jedi get slaves offworld yesterday. Please, jedi. We need to go."

While Blip was trying to talk her into complaisance, he'd located a cloak that appeared to have belonged to one of the darth's apprentices, likely a dead one, and what he thought might be her lightsaber.

He returned to her side and offered his hand. She refused and rose on shaky legs without assistance. He inclined his head to her. "Here," he said handing her the cloak. "Put it on and pull up the cowl." When she complied, he nodded. "You will blend in well enough. I believe this is yours," he said, holding out the lightsaber.

She looked down at his hand, shocked that he would arm her. She plucked it gingerly from his outstretched hand, making sure their fingers did not touch. For the barest moment she considered igniting it. A slow, cleansing breath slipped from her lips and she snapped it to her magbelt. Now was not the time. He was right, they needed to leave before more sith arrived. "I will go with you, sith."

"My name is Vrok," he chastised. "Not sith. It would please me if you used it." He turned away from her as Blip climbed up his robe. "Come then. I will take you to safe quarters and get you something to eat."

"I can't eat her?" Khem asked just to be sure of his master's wishes.

"No, Khem, you cannot eat her. But if we are attacked on the way to my quarters, you may eat the attackers," he informed the dashade.

She tried not to turn her head to stare at the monster that walked at their backs. She'd never seen anything quite like it. Was that a dashade? She'd heard they liked to eat force users. She was grateful the sith – Vrok, had told the creature he could not eat her. She did not yet have the energy to fight the monster.

Within the shadows of the cowl, she studied the path they'd taken. Not that it would help much, since she didn't know how she'd gotten to the Dark Lord's chamber. But it was something to do so that she did not feel completely helpless. She wondered if her parents or her master knew she was missing? Even if they did, they would never think to look on Dromund Kaas. She was truly at the - Vrok's mercy…at least for the moment. Regardless what the droid said, a sith could not be honorable. He had an angle, she just needed to discover what it was…before it was too late.

"Here," he said, motioning her through the door that slid open. "These are my quarters. You will be safe enough here, for now. There is a small refresher over there," he pointed to a door on the side of the room. "Take a shower. Khem – get some food for us from the kitchen. I'll hunt down some clean clothing for you. Blip will stay with you, should you need anything. We shall return shortly."

When they left his quarters, he was surprised Khem hadn't grumbled about having to get food, then again, the dashade was likely eager to get his claws on some raw meat. He went down to supply and approached the woman at the desk. "My master is acquiring a new female apprentice and demands she be garbed accordingly."

Sylvie looked up at the huge blood and nearly swallowed her gum. "Of – of course. Right away, my lord. What size is she?"

How would he know that? "Stand up." When she complied, he ran his gaze down her frame. "About two inches taller than you, larger breasts and not quite as thick in the middle."

She cleared her throat, trying not to show how insulting his words were. She looked through the shelving and pulled down three uniforms. She returned to the counter and laid them out for him. "Any of these should fit her. And only the best for your master," she said with a grin. Raping his credit chip would feel good after his insufferable words.

He looked them over and chose the uniform with the red under tunic. He hoped she'd appreciate the touch of color, rather than the all black uniforms. "Thank you," he said after he paid for his purchase. He lengthened his stride on the return trip to his quarters. It was getting late and he wanted to eat before he joined his master. It would not do at all for him to drool over the repast in the Nexus Room.

When he reached his room, they were already at the table eating. It appeared the dashade had not given her any problems. He tossed the packaged uniform on the desk chair, and placed the prototype device in the top drawer of his chest before he settled at the table. "Your new clothing is on the chair; I hope it is an acceptable fit. Is your food adequate?" he asked as he tucked into his own plate.

The food was far more bland than she was used to. But she hadn't had a solid meal in days and that alone made it taste like heaven. "I've not eaten much in days," she admitted. "So, it is a feast I'm grateful for." She'd already looked his room over. There were no torture devices or anything else that looked threatening. Odd, but she'd always imagined a sith's room would be filled with skulls and blood and black everywhere – like something out of a nightmare. "You room is more…normal than I thought it would be."

He choked the bite down and laughed. "Were you expecting corpses and blood alters?"

She grinned. Her lips pursed the moment she realized she was smiling at a sith like she would a friend. "Something like that," admitted, her cheeks flushing with color.

He looked around his room and nodded. "You are probably not too far off when it comes to maniacal sith. But for most, you will find the décor tends to be boring – utilitarian." He stroked the flexible cartilage on his chin. "I suspect most sith hide their true selves, displaying nothing of who they are in self-preservation."

She thought that over and nodded. "If you let someone know you then they might discover your weaknesses and exploit them."

"Precisely," he agreed.

"I don't understand. How can you live in a world like that?" she asked curiously. To always fear a so-called friend would stab you in the back.

He grinned and rose from the table. "Perhaps I will tell you one day. For now, Khem and I must go and attend my master. Blip will stay with you, should you need anything. We will be back when our business has been concluded."

"My name is Annri, by the way," she called out after him as the pair were leaving. He smiled back at her. this had become so surreal. Not the torture part – that's she'd been expecting. But the kindness of the red sith. It wasn't…right. He wasn't acting very sithy. Everything she thought she knew…She rubbed her temples and went to lay down so she could fall into a healing sleep.

"You risk much keeping the – her in your room," Khem told his master after they'd left the apprentice quarters.

He grinned. "Yes. And it is invigorating. I find I quite enjoy slapping sith in the face. Probably not as much as you enjoy eating them…but close enough."

They took a taxi to Kaas City. At least it did not rain during their walk to the Nexus Room cantina. That was an unexpected blessing. They passed through the field at the cantina's door and he felt the sweat dry on his body. Which was enjoyable on a balmy night like this.

The barkeep told him where to find Zash on the second floor. With a thank you, he hurried towards the lift. He came to as stop when he entered the party room. Quiet instrumental music filtered through the room. People were standing around talking or sitting at tables. This was a party? Where was the dancing and laughter? Where was the gaiety and frivolity? The pageantry and decadence? This was no more than you'd find in any cantina. No…less. It was a lively as a meeting of droids.

With a frown, he spotted Zash sitting at a far table with two others.

"These prattling creatures call themselves sith? The legacy of Tulak Hord is lost," Khem grumbled at all the petty nonsense he was hearing as he followed his master through the barroom.

The talking dwindled as her table companions looked up to see him and Khem approaching. Zash rose from the table. "I'm sorry, will you excuse me? I must have a quick chat with my apprentice."

He followed her to a quiet corner of the room. "I fear the machine is thoroughly broken. Sadly, even the repair droids were unable to get it functioning again."

Oh, such beautiful news to brighten this dreadfully boring party. "Thank you for letting me know, my apprentice. It was time to replace that bucket of bolt anyway. The newer model will a far more worthy substitute. I appreciate your diligence on the matter, apprentice." She looked down in surprise where her communicator chimed. She pulled it out of her pocket and activated it.

"Lord Zash," Darth Thanaton growled.

She held her finger up, letting her apprentice know the com wouldn't take long. "My lord," she said to the holo, "this is a pleasant surprise."

Thanaton gave a slow shake of his head. "You have some nerve, Zash. I thought you were smarter."

Her brow lifted. Oh, she was very smart. Very smart, indeed. "With all due respect, Darth Thanaton, what are you talking about?"

"Don't you play ignorant with me, Zash. Skotia's dead and you killed him."

Her hand lifted to her chest in shock. "I did? When did I perform such a dastardly deed?"

"Just now," Thanaton sighed in exasperation. "What did you expect to gain? His position? His title? You know it doesn't work that way! Where is your discretion?" he demanded.

"Just now, my lord? That is certainly very impressive of me, considering I've been at this party for hours." She tapped her chin with her pointer finger. "I'll admit I might have had a bit too much to drink, but I'm fairly certain I didn't kill anyone – even if I have always envied his…shelf space."

"Zash!" Thanaton warned. "I don't want to have this conversation by holo. Report to my chambers immediately!"

She smiled when the Darth's holo vanished and dropped the communicator back into her pocket. "Give me time to talk to Thanaton. I'll let you know when to meet me in Skotia's chambers." She patted his very large arm. "Don't worry, you've played your part, now it's time for me to play mine. We did it, apprentice." She released his arm and headed for the door and the future that awaited her, at long last.

He spent the next two days, barely leaving his room. On the third day, he took the jedi to one of the worm-infested tombs to show her how to properly use the darker energy of the force.

"I don't like this," Annri hissed. "I'm not going to open myself up to be corrupted and twisted."

His brow ridges rose. "Do you think I'm twisted?" he asked curiously.

The sith – Vrok had shown her nothing but kindness. Was he truly what he seemed or was this some kind of long con? "No. But I've heard horror stories of jedi falling to the dark side."

"Then they were weak – or they thought the dark energy would give them more power. But I'm not sure that it can," he said with a shrug. "It is the force user not the force that is stronger or weaker. With dark energy, you can't hold it in, concentrate it and bend it to your will – that is what destroys your body. It will give you an initial hard kick, but the price paid is too high. No," he said with a shake of his head, "with dark energy, you take it and release it, without trying to trap it to build up power. This was something I learned when I…" He shook his head again. "After you cut the connection to the dark energy, then you can take in the light to balance you. The light energy is not as strong here, but it exists." He looked down at the jedi. She did not have the pinched or cruel expression he'd seen on so many apprentices, but most sith did not bother to truly look at unimportant underlings. "I know you are not yet back to your usual strength, but are you weak?" he asked pointedly.

She'd never once considered herself weak. Her spine stiffened. "No, I'm not weak. I am strong in my convictions. But I'm also not arrogant enough to believe I'm infallible."

"Wise woman. But what you need to consider is drawing light energy does not make you inherently good. Just as drawing dark energy does not make you inherently evil." He poked her high on the chest. "That which is located here is what makes you good or evil. It is something the jedi and sith have yet to learn."

She tilted her head. He had an odd way of talking. "You talk of sith as if you are not one," she mused.

He shrugged. "There are many stories I could tell. Now is not the time. Now, we practice."

Annri wasn't sure why she believed anything a sith had to say – but she sensed no deceit in his words. "You aren't going to tell me to use my fear and anger?"

He laughed with delight. She was a refreshing woman to talk with. "That is what any master would say to their apprentice and likely what most sith believe. But focusing on the negative is destructive - though not in a good way. Focus on what you want to accomplish. Focus on the strength inside you and your conviction to make it happen. Your relationship with the force should be give and take – symbiotic, if you will. Don't let it use you, for it surely will, and don't try to enslave it because it will take its due. It is the middle ground you want. A healthy, symbiotic relationship."

She just stared at him, unable to believe the words she heard coming from a sith's mouth. No wonder he talked about sith as if he were not one. She wasn't sure he was. With those beliefs, he could never be a jedi or a sith. He was something else altogether…but his beliefs didn't sound wrong. "You have given me much to think about. For now, I will practice with you."

They spent much of the day down in the tunnels clearing out the never-ending supply of worms. Not only did she learn about changing energy to lightning but also about the choke hold. He, in turn, learned how to use dust, debris and rocks as a shield wall that can be hurled at multiple targets if needed. He also learned how to stun multiple targets by causing the ground beneath them to quake.

After dinner, he took her to one of the sparring rooms and they practiced different lightsaber techniques until she was too exhausted to continue. This night, she gave him back his bed and slept on the sofa, telling him it fit her much better than it did him.

After breakfast, he was summoned by Zash. And told her he would return shortly. Blip stayed behind to keep her company. The droid was far better companion for her than the dashade. Not that he thought Khem would eat her if he was left alone with her, but he doubted they would find anything at all to talk about.

When he entered Skotia's chambers, he could feel his master but he did not see her, instead he saw two lords examining the room in which he'd killed Skotia.

Kirnon spun around to see the massive Blood. "There! There he is! It's Lord Zash's apprentice. Surely, he knows."

Calaverous shook his head and scanned his datapad. "He wouldn't tell us if he did."

No. No. No. "Still, it doesn't hurt to ask does it?"

Calaverous sighed. "Kirnon, let it rest.

"I will not let it rest," Kirnon declared. Everyone knows Lord Zash was at the party when Skotia was killed and yet everyone knows she killed him."

Vrok laughed at their assumptions. Though, they were the assumptions Zash had wanted. "Don't be ridiculous. It is I that killed Skotia."

Kirnon blinked and shook his head. "Now you're the one being silly." No way could any apprentice have killed a Dark Lord of the Council. It was ludicrous.

The other lord looked the large Blood up and down. There was power and confidence in the apprentice. "I wouldn't underestimate him, Kirnon. He looks dangerous to me."

"You should listen to your friend," Vrok warned.

"Please, you must tell me – how did Zash kill Darth Skotia?" Kirnon all but begged.

"You cannot see the truth when it is right in front of you?" He sighed. "Fine. She captured a spirit and only promised to set it free if it devoured Skotia's soul. Is that more believable than the truth?" He asked with a grin.

Calaverous grunted. "Clearly, he is not saying anything, Kirnon. Let it rest." He'd had enough. He couldn't find anything incriminating in the chamber.

"Fine, then. Fine," Kirnon groused as he followed Calaverous from the room. "But I'm warning you, Calaverous, Lord Zash is becoming too powerful too quickly. Since when has anyone in the history of the sith committed a murder so brazenly, yet make it appear that she was somewhere else the entire time. It's enough to wake the Emperor, I tell..."

He couldn't catch anymore of their conversation because they'd gotten out of range. He shrugged and headed in the direction he'd felt his master's presence. He found her in a side office. "How did your meeting go?"

She grinned. "You would have been proud of me. I went into a reprimand but I emerged a Darth. I know, I know," she said with a wave of her hand. "You want to know about you. Well, for now I still need you as my apprentice. However, a Darth can raise an apprentice to a lord. Soon, my apprentice. Soon, you will get your just rewards."

"As you say," he said, unimpressed by her pretty little lies. He doubted he'd become a lord anytime soon, not when she still had use of him.

"Her breath stinks of sith lies," growled Khem. The sith had no honor. Though he did not approve of all of his master's choices, so far they had not been dishonorable.

"Remember the map you found on Korriban that pointed us to the power of Tulak Hord? The first piece of that artifact is here on Dromund Kaas. It is in the deepest chamber of the Dark Temple. Skotia always horded the key to the chamber like a Hutt hoards his credits. Now, I have Skotia's title, his chambers, his research and his key." She grinned. She paced for a moment and nodded. "Before I went to Korriban to choose an apprentice, a furious apparition awakened in the Dark Temple, implacable in its anger, murdering all who trespassed on the innermost chamber."

She tapped her fingers on her desk. "But I had a dream. An apprentice of low origin humbled himself before the apparition, pacifying it. That's why you and your peers were singled out."

He laughed softly. If she wanted someone of low origin, she chose the wrong slave. To bend his knee to another. He was not sure he could do that. "You ask a lot."

"I know," she said quietly. "You must go into the temple and face the apparition, and when you do, I believe that your humility will be the key. Still…I want you to know – I'm not certain you're the one from the dream. I fear I may be sending you to your death." And then she would have hunt down another apprentice.

"While I do not relish dealing with spirits, I am no stranger to accomplishing the impossible," he told her.

She inhaled deeply. "You're right. You retrieved the holocron on Korriban when no one else could – if that's not proof of your destiny, I don't know what is. Tulak Hord's power awaits us both. We must not lose sight of this goal. Use this glyph," she said as she handed him the glyph she'd found previously, "to enter the innermost chamber of the Dark Temple. Humble yourself before the apparition and bring back the piece of the artifact."

He tucked the glyph into an inner pocket of his robe, inclined his head and strolled from her office.

This was a fool's errand. "Even the great Tulak Hord did not tangle with spirits. Tread lightly, little sith,"

"I intend to. Would you prefer to await my return?"

"No," Khem responded. "I am honor bound to remain at your side. I only ask that you heed the warning."

"Of course." He flipped on his MT and sent a quick message to Blip to explain where he was going so that the droid and Annri did not overly worry.

They took a taxi to Outpost Warden, as they were not allowed to get any closer. Apparently enraged wildlife and possessed people littered the rest of the path to the Dark Temple. So be it. At least it was not raining. From there, they rented speeders. Paid far more than standard fare.

The journey to the Dark Temple was as they said, but he discovered if they remained at a distance, they possessed people and creatures did not even acknowledge they were there. Interesting. They drove the speeders right up the steps and into the entryway of temple. They parked them against the wall and hoped they would be there when they returned.

He pulled up a map of the temple on his micro-terminal. The temple was larger than he'd thought it would be. The chamber they needed was the far back of the temple. Going through the temple was no different than the grounds. As long as they kept their distance, they were ignored. Just as he ignored the whispers in his head.

They took the rounded stairwell up two levels. Six possessed people died at their hands. Wasted deaths, if they could have been saved from their hellish existence. The pathway up ended a large door that slid open at his approach when he held up the glyph. As he entered a shiver went down his spine. It was another tomb. Icy cold slithered across his exposed flesh. He turned when he saw something out of the corner of his eye and saw a spirit charging towards him. The armor…it couldn't be. "Uncle?"

Kallig came to a stop and looked over the large pureblood. Larger than expected…but a familiar face nonetheless. "Who are you to call me uncle?" he asked.

Was this not his uncle? "I am Vrok Acheron-Kallig, the son of Luetha Kallig and the nephew of Malias Kallig. The armor – you are not Malias, my uncle?" Vrok asked uncertainly.

Luetha and Malias, fine names for a Kallig. "I am not Malias, but I am your ancestor. I felt your movements in the force and they have stirred me from my nightmare. I am still too weak to leave; but I knew if I made myself enough of a nuisance, you would eventually come. The sith throw flesh endlessly at what they cannot control. And here you are, son of my sons."

"Why are you here, grandfather? Why did you want me to come?" His ancestor here. Perhaps all that had happened was meant to happen so that he could be standing here at this point in time.

"When the weaklings of this planet trespassed my tomb, I rose, resuming my former life. This temple became my kingdom, and I was once more a lord of the sith. But when I felt you first grasp the hilt of your lightsaber, I knew my hour had come and gone – that your strength, not mine, would return our family to glory."

"Tulak Hord…" Vrok muttered.

Kallig nodded. "Yes! Our family was torn from greatness, crushed by the treachery of a man I once called friend. Tyulak Hord."

"You speak as if alive," growled Khem. "I would serve my master well to correct that."

"Khem," Vrok warned. "This is my grandfather. Would that you tread lightly."

Kallig grinned, though he knew they could not see it behind his armored mask. "Ha! Your master is dead now, beast. You serve the child of Kallig now!"

"Grandfather, do not goad him. It is unbecoming."

"As you say. As for restoring our bloodline to glory, I will caution you not to make the same mistake I did. Treachery is the sith's endless game. Beware your master, beware your apprentice. Never be taken by surprise. Do these things, and you will be unstoppable. But enough about me – we will talk more later. You came for the artifact that I wrested from Tulak Hord before I died. Take the artifact, my son. But be careful – I know not what it does. Only that betrayal follows it everywhere."

"Then I will have the utmost care," Vrok assured his ancestor.

"I hunger for the day when our power will be restored. I must away – we will meet again, my son."

After his grandfather dissipated, he turned his attention to the stone coffin. It felt wrong to steal from his ancestor, but he was given permission. He moved the stone lid just far enough to remove the object between the bones of his grandfather's hands. Respectfully, he used his power to seat the stone lid back over his grandfather. May no one else disturb his resting place.

With harsh release of breath, he flipped on his MT to notify Zash that he recovered the artifact. "I have the artifact."

Zash smiled. Of course, he did. There was nothing he couldn't do…or so it seemed, but that was a matter for another time. She was not yet done with her apprentice. "Of course. Brilliant! Magnificent! Hurry back to Skotia's – I mean my chambers. I cannot wait to see this artifact, and I have a surprise for you!"

"Oh, I do love a good surprise!" he assured her with a grin.

"Trust me – you'll love it! Now hurry back, apprentice."

The holo flashed off and he returned it his pocket. "I wouldn't trust her if she paid me to."

Khem grunted. "Then you show a wisdom your ancestor lacked."

"Khem!" Vrok warned, before he saw the hideous smile on the dashade's face. So, it was in jest, despite the fact that it was likely true. Kallig trusted a sith.

There speeders were still resting against the wall when they returned and they took them straight to the Sith Sanctum and turned them in at the taxi pad. He knew they'd get back to where they needed to be.

Zash looked up when her apprentice entered her office. "Apprentice. Have I got news for you. Since you left for the Dark Temple, I've been reading and reading and reading. Skotia's chambers are a treasure trove of research. Who would've thought a man like that had such a curious intellect? It almost makes me regret that we had to kill him. But let me see the wonderful artifact you found."

She took it from the Blood's hand and smiled. She hadn't a clue what this strangely shaped piece would be used for, but she would learn it all in time. "Excellent! Magnificent! It all begins here, apprentice." It was hard to believe that this mountain of red flesh was going to make all her dreams come true. "Tell me, how did you manage to pacify the apparition?"

That he had no intension of telling her. Even if she found out he, himself, was a Kallig, she didn't need to know the apparition was as well. "First, I took a magnet…and then a chance cube…"

She forced a light laugh. "Fair enough. Your secrets are your own. I, however, will not be so guarded. I have been studying Tulak Hord's artifacts closely for some time, and one glance at this one you've brought back confirms everything I've suspected. These artifacts will change everything, apprentice – you, especially. They will make you more powerful than you could ever imagine. I have foreseen it."

No sith would ever allow their apprentice to become more powerful than themselves. No, whatever these artifacts did, she alone would reap the benefit. "Tell me about them."

"This artifact is one of five that together describe a peculiar ritual used by the great Tulak Hord when he conquered the Dromund System. Until I have all of them, I cannot understand the full nature of the ritual, but I have foreseen that you alone will wield the ritual's power." That should make him more than eager to go and retrieve all the artifacts. He would play into her hands nicely. "The artifacts are scattered across the galaxy; some hidden by Tulak Hord himself, and some wrenched from his hands by betrayers. Documents in Skotia's effects point to Balmorra and Nar Shaddaa, but I will need to do more research to locate the other two."

"I hope you are in no particular hurry. Taking shuttles and random ships may take some time. But I will get it done," he informed her.

"Oh – I almost forgot your surprise! If you're going to find these artifacts, you'll need a ship and so I have ordered you one. You will find your ship at the spaceport in bay C-72."

"That will make travel easier. I appreciate your thoughtfulness," he told her.

"You've earned it, apprentice. And don't forget to contact me when you reach each planet for more information on the artifact's location. Good luck and good hunting!"

Khem turned to his master as soon as she left the office. "She will neve command the power of Tulak Hord. Remember, little sith, I am always hungry."

"And if she gets in the way, you can eat her. As much as it may gall me, for now I still need her."

They returned to his quarters to gather his meager possessions, along with the jedi and droid. His ship was right where she said it would be. And it was a beauty.

She stared at the ship through the large window it the bay. "This ship looks so new…any ship we get has been well…seasoned," she said with a grin. "It is beautiful, Vrok. Thank you, for letting me come with you. I'm glad to be leaving Dromund Kaas…and I would like learn more about you. You are fascinating."

"Not sure how I feel about being fascinating, but you are welcome to join us." Then again, he found her fascinating as well. "Let's board her, because I'm eager to be away from Dromund Kaas as well."

The ship was not huge, but it was sleek and no doubt it would be fast. A few feet in front of the airlock was a safety room, with harness chairs and stasis pods. The airlock hall curved around to the main deck of the ship. To the right, there was a hall, of which engineering was on the right and the cargo bay on the left. Within the bay, there was a large hatch, no doubt used to bring in goods as well as an exit point for the speeders held within the bay. The hall ended at the laundry room that also had a hatch that led down to an escape pod. From the airlock, you could cut straight through the ship to the bridge, or you can turn left and you were essentially in the main room of the ship. It contained an entertainment set up on one end, an interstellar holoterminal, designed to be powerful enough to handle large distances and a training area on the far side. More rooms separated off at the end of the commons. His CO cabin was small, but the beg looked large enough to even hold him…maybe. Across from his room was the med-bay, with two operational med-beds and a bacta tank. Impressive for such a small ship. In between those two rooms was a hall leading further down. To the right was what appeared to be the dining room as well as a meeting room. Through the door behind the table was a small kitchen. Across from the dining room was the crew quarters with two large sets of bunkbeds on each side. So, crew of eight. Good to know. He could also see that the beds each had storage and shelves built into the back walls for personal items, as well as a door that slid closed for privacy. That was a nice touch. At the end of the hall was a hatch in the floor that led to the escape pod and a large communal refresher. While he had a small refresher, the crew had to share.

Annri took the top bunk cater-corner to the lower bunk Khem chose, so she could be as far from him as possible. He could certainly understand her choice. Khem had a rather unique and…pungent scent to him, perhaps a few turns through decontamination would do him good.

His room consisted of bed, desk, armoire and a small refresher. He put what little he owned in the armoire, along with the other, now useless items like the device he used on Skotia's cybernetics and the glyph. "Blip, please scan the ship for surveillance." When the little droid scampered off, he grinned. It felt good to be out on his own. Since there was nothing to return to, he could only push forward. And with a jedi at his side, no less. That…he never could have imagined.