Within the catacombs of his family's estate, Perdition meditated. He sat, cross-legged, in the centre of his private sanctum. None of his droid servants were permitted within; this chamber was only for him. It consisted of a circular floor carved from stones imported from Korriban and etched with arcane symbols of the Dark Side. Four angular alcoves, each three-pronged, extended from the central meditation area. The high-ceilinged alcoves contained, respectively, tomes and ancient trinkets, Sith holocrons, several different lightsabers, and busts of previous Dark Lords of Bane's order.
The sanctum had been constructed to resemble the insignia of the Old Sith Empire of Marka Ragnos. After all, it was that empire, forged through blood and conquest and sorcery by the Dark Jedi Exiles all those millennia ago, that began the cycle. Devotees of the Dark Side, those who claimed membership of the various Sith orders and empires since, owed their existence to the old empire. The bravery of the exiles, in rejecting the hypocrisy and stifling dogma of the Jedi, needed to be honoured.
As he floated above the stone floor, communing with the Dark Side, Perdition seethed within. Three days ago, news reached him of the deaths of the Mining Guild officials causing him trouble. Nujji's pirates had done their work. He should be elated now that his plans could proceed unopposed.
But that was not the case.
Somehow, the pirates had gotten it into their thick, empty skulls to kidnap Chocoth Chund and his grandson instead of killing them. Now, the Republic and possibly the Jedi would be looking for them. If the pirates were to be arrested, or Chocoth paid them enough credits to talk, there could be damaging consequences. Nujji said the gang in question, the 'Destiny Raiders' as they called themselves, wouldn't connect back to them. But Perdition didn't trust the Hutt on principle.
The risk was too great, especially considering the unfinished nature of the operation. Chocoth Chund and his grandson would have to die, along with the pirates. It was the only way to be certain no loose ends remained.
Perdition tilted his head back, inhaling as the energies of the Dark Side coursed through him. As the only Dark Lord in the galaxy, all its power was concentrated within him. That was what Darth Bane had intended. A master, to embody all the power of the Dark Side. A vessel for its pure, destructive power that would pass to another. An order of two against an order of 10,000. Yet he knew that, one day, the Jedi and their vaunted Light Side of the Force would fall, supplanted by a superior Dark Side paradigm. The galaxy would bleed, it would suffer. Then, it would evolve.
Finishing his meditation, Perdition lowered himself to the floor. The arcane symbols carved into the stone, having glowed during his communion, dimmed. He retrieved his black cloak and clasped it with a brooch of Sith design. He crossed to the large circular door at the front of the room. Fashioned from military-grade durasteel used in warship hulls and woven with bands of Cortosis, it gleamed in the torchlight. Its surface was aurodium plated, giving it a majestic appearance amid the austere bookshelves and relics.
Waving his hand, Perdition slid the door open. Upon exiting, he sealed it. The door could only be opened with the power of the Dark Side. One of his droid servants, a communications model with an orb-shaped body mounted on a trio of thin legs, approached. "Master," it greeted. "You have an incoming transmission from one Nujji Anjiliac Onkai."
"About time," he muttered. "Are the encryption protocols in place?"
"Certainly, master."
"Then put her through."
The top of the droid's body glowed blue as it projected a quarter-sized hologram above itself. Nujji's rotund form materialized, perched on a gaudily decorated throne with a protocol droid by her side. "Greetings, Duke." Her voice sounded wet, the words almost unintelligible. She must have just finished eating.
"Nujji," Perdition said by way of greeting. His droid's encryption would narrow the field so the Hutt could only see him and not his surroundings. It would also partially conceal his face.
"As we discussed earlier, I set my slicers to the task of locating the Destiny Raiders. It was not an easy task, as they prefer to keep their base of operations mobile."
"Have you contacted me with nothing to show for your efforts?" Perdition demanded.
Nujji frowned. "Take care, Duke. Our relationship is beneficial, but it is hardly necessary to the success of my enterprises. You approached me all those years ago, if you will recall."
Perdition sighed. Hutts were among the most arrogant species in the galaxy. They viewed all others as beneath them. To get anywhere, one had to show some measure of deference. Even a partner had to debase himself from time to time. "My apologies, old friend. I meant no offense. I'm simply concerned about the potential consequences. What have your slicers found?"
She eyed him for a moment, then said, "The pirates are based on the twelfth moon of Ohjal. I am sending you the coordinates."
A line of text appeared next to the hologram, indicating galactic coordinates.
"Are you certain you do not wish for me to handle this?" the Hutt asked. "My warships could have that moon glassed in a matter of days."
"We may not have days," he reminded her. "The offer is appreciated, but unnecessary. I'll be sending one of my people to deal with the Destiny Raiders."
"One operative, against an entire pirate gang?"
Perdition gave her a tight grin. "He is the deadliest weapon in my arsenal, I assure you. Before the day is out, those incompetent scum will be ended. May fortune shine on you, my friend." With that, the hologram dissipated as the transmission ended. His smile vanished. "Did you complete the trace?"
"Yes, master," the droid replied. "The signal originated from the ancestral Anjiliac fortress on Zodho."
So, no surprises there. Ally she may be, Perdition still preferred to keep a close watch on her. To the Hutt's credit, she told him the actual location of the pirates; his own intelligence network had already given him the coordinates, but he wanted to see if she'd be forthcoming. Betrayal and scheming were not exclusive to the Sith, after all. "Have my fighter prepped and ready for launch." Without bothering to wait for a response, he walked past the droid and strode through the halls of his estate. Once, he had roamed amid the carefree existence of a child. Servants attended to his every need while his parents focused their attention on their house's standing or KDY business.
His predilection for dissecting animals and manipulating the servants had gone unnoticed, at first. By his seventh birthday, he found he could move objects without touching them. People's minds became as easy to read as his books. When he became bored, he acted out. One time, he threw a pot of boiling water at a cook from across the room, burning the man's face. Another time, he convinced a serving girl –a pretty Togruta— to scratch her eyes out after she caught him stealing from a guard's room.
It hadn't taken long for his father to learn the origin of the strange goings on. The 'honourable' Duke Klodiam Uvanar locked him in his room. Like a dirty secret to be kept from the world. As an added measure, the Duke paid a hefty sum to import a Ysalamir and placed it above his bed. Perdition remembered the…emptiness that came whenever he slept. It was like someone made him blind and deaf all at once. Objects lost their colour. Sound held no meaning. Even now, he gritted his teeth at the memory of what that creature did to him. He'd hated sleeping in his bed, and on many occasions his father had had him restrained.
As soon as his master had taken him as an apprentice, Uvanar had skinned the Ysalamir alive. Its hide now formed the leather of a satchel he commonly wore.
His personal hangar was built into the cliff face the estate topped, large enough to house a modern cruiser. A handful of smaller craft occupied it, all top-of-the-line with masterfully forged transponders and registration codes. Descending in the turbolift, he walked towards the black R-86 Bloodwing starfighter. Its cylindrical core body, tapered at the front to resemble an avian's beak, featured a pair of angular wings with twin-linked blaster cannons.
Not bothering to use a ladder, he leapt across the length of the fighter, landing nimbly in the pilot's chair. It took only a few minutes to start up the engines and activate one of the phony transponders. Once that was done, he signalled the hangar door to open and flew through the opening. Climbing high into Kuat's atmosphere and out into space, Perdition flew past the shipyards. Entering the coordinates to Ohjal into his navicomputer, he entered hyperspace with a flicker of pseudo-motion.
The pirates shoved Vrehk into the cell, right next to his grandfather. The captain stood in the doorway, two of her men behind her. She gripped her helmet with both hands and slid it off her head, revealing her face. The first thing Vrehk noticed about her was just how beautiful she was. She had green scales, and a number of subtle ridges marked her striking, angular features. Her head was bald, apart from a purple topknot tied at the back. "I apologize for the accommodations," she said in a pleasant tone. "We're not used to entertaining such distinguished guests, you see. Ours is more of a…reclamation business. Whatever we don't need, we usually jettison or melt down."
Chocoth growled, baring a mouth full of sharpened incisors. Black blood seeped from a cut on his forehead; he'd insulted the pirates one too many times, and one had smashed the butt of a blaster rifle into the old man's face.
Inwardly, Vrehk was glad for the silence. Though he'd never admit it out loud.
"It may take some time to arrange a ransom for you," the captain continued. "In the meantime, I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. One of my people will watch over you and make sure you're fed and watered."
"At least tell me who hired you," Chocoth said, the first time he'd spoken in hours. "Was it the Hutts? Outer Rim Oreworks? Or did Black Sun finally decide to muscle in on our business?"
The captain gave a tsk, tsk, shaking her head. "That's a lot of enemies, master Chund. Perhaps you better take this time to reflect on your choices."
Vrehk, who sat against the far corner away from his grandfather, flinched when the old man's hateful gaze fell on him. "The worst parts of my life weren't even because of my choices, woman. Sometimes the universe decides to punish beings who are undeserving." The captain said nothing, but she stared at Vrehk for a few moments before walking away.
After that came silence.
Days, weeks. Vrehk had no way of knowing how long he and his grandfather lived in the cell. One of the pirates, a hairy, smelly Aqualish with a long scar across his nose, brought their meals. When they'd first been taken onto the pirates' ship, the tusked alien had scared Vrehk. He'd heard stories of how aggressive they could be, relying on brute strength over all else. The Aqualish, Huk, gave him a few nasty stares that first day. He must have taken pity on Vrehk after that, because he'd started acting kind towards him. "Don't worry," he said, tusks flexing with every word. "The captain won't let anybody hurt you."
Slowly, Vrehk came to like Huk. He'd warn off any pirate that tried to threaten or intimidate him, give him a snack, and share stories of various travels. In a way, the old pirate became more of a father figure than Chocoth had ever been.
The door opened, and the cell became bathed in light. Vrehk shielded his eyes, as did his grandfather. After so much time spent in near-total darkness, he became sensitive to any light source. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Huk standing there, two trays in his clawed hands. "Meal time," he announced. The Aqualish tossed one tray over to Chocoth. It bounced on the floor, spilling nearly half its contents. He set the other one gently in front of Vrehk. "Here you are, my boy. Fresh from the mess."
Vrehk plucked the cubes of protein paste from the tray and stuffed them into his mouth. They tasted like old, boiled leather and were as easy to chew as rubber. Despite that, he kept eating. The last thing he wanted was to starve.
"Here, you don't want to choke," Huk said, offering him a glass of water.
Vrehk chugged it down, eager to remove the bad taste from his mouth.
"I also brought you something special." The Aqualish reached into a pouch on his belt and took something out. When he opened his fingers, Vrehk saw a number of brightly coloured wasaka berries. "Take them," Huk offered, bringing his hand closer.
When Vrehk took the berries, his grandfather leaned towards him and said, "Hey, boy. Give me those."
Huk turned to glare at him with his bulbous black eyes. "They're not for you."
"Boy," Chocoth said, his tone growing serious. "Give me those berries. Now! I'm the one these scum really want. I won't get ransomed if I starve or get poisoned by this refuse they call food." Vrehk glanced nervously at his grandfather, berries in hand. He didn't want to upset the old man, since that was when he got mean and scary. But he also didn't want to give up the gift Huk had given him. Chocoth growled, slamming a fist on the floor. "Boy, do as I tell you!"
As if in response to Vrehk's fear, Huk stood and drew his blaster pistol, aiming it at the old man's face. "Be quiet!" he hissed. "I brought those for him, not you. If you keep making noise, I might just have to punish you." He aimed the blaster lower, at one knee. "Should I start here?" Higher, at the groin. "Or here?"
Some of the fire had gone out of Chocoth, but not all. This was the longest time in a while since Vrehk had seen him go without alcohol. He was unpleasant and grouchy while sober, but vicious and abusive while drunk. "You can't touch me," the old man said with disdain. "Your captain needs me alive and unspoiled. That means no blasting."
"We have a Bacta tank onboard," Huk countered. "I could burn all your digits and…other pieces off, and you'd be repaired in days. So don't. Irritate. Me."
This time, Chocoth remained silent.
Holstering his blaster, Huk told them, "I'll be back for your next meal in a few hours." He stepped outside and closed the door, returning them to sheer darkness.
Vrehk felt himself breathing faster. He always felt safer with Huk around. Now that the Aqualish left, it was only him and his grandfather alone together. The smell of the berries wafted up to his nostrils, making his stomach growl. The vast majority of Devaronian males had only sharpened incisors meant for eating meat. Females had molars and canines, and could eat a wide range of food. One in fifty males, however, were born with an inner set of incisors and an outer set of retractable 'female' teeth. Vrehk was one of them. His mother once told him it made him special. He flexed his gums, extending his second set of teeth, then popped a berry in his mouth.
"Vrehk," Chocoth said in a low voice.
He froze mid-chew, knowing what would come next. He started shaking, retracting his second set of teeth involuntarily. Something moved in the darkness, and he suddenly felt a hand grip him by the wrist. Hard. He whimpered, trying to escape. But it was no use.
"Give me those berries," Chocoth said. He was close enough that Vrehk could feel the hot, stinky breath on his face. It made him turn away and want to gag. The old man's other hand snatched the berries from his palm, scratching his skin with sharpened fingernails. With a disgusted grunt, Chocoth shoved him onto the floor then returned to his original place.
Vrehk moved to the corner, as far away as he could get. He then curled up in the fetal position, clutching his legs in his arms and rocking back and forth. Warm tears pooled in his eyes, but he refused to cry. He didn't want to give his grandfather the satisfaction. Instead, he thought of his parents and home. If only someone could take him away from here, keep him safe. He hadn't felt safe in over a year. 'Please,' he thought, 'someone help me. I don't want to live with him anymore. I want to go somewhere else.'
He stayed like that for what felt like forever. Most species associated Devaronians with demons and monsters from myth and stories. They looked on his kind as devils summoned from the infinite hells. Here, in the cell with only his grandfather for company, Vrehk felt trapped in his own personal hell. He hated it. He hated feeling scared all the time. Most of all, he hated his grandfather. After all the pain, all the fear, someone needed to come and punish the old man like he deserved. Huk had threatened to shoot his fingers and other parts off. Vrehk wished that had happened. The twisted, angry part of him deep inside wanted that more than anything.
'I hope you die,' he thought, glaring at the spot he heard his grandfather loudly chewing. 'I hope you suffer and die, monster. Eventually, someone bigger and scarier than you will make you suffer. I hope that day comes soon.'
When the light flashed on his console, indicating an approaching gravity mass, Perdition pushed the hyperdrive levers back. The blue tunnel of hyperspace, his only view for the last four hours, became a field of streaks which formed into stars. He'd arrived in the Ohjal system.
Once the seat of a powerful commercial empire, Ohjal had seen more than its share of war. Its once-pristine surface had been devastated in the Great Sith War by the forces of Exar Kun. The original inhabitants fled en masse, leaving it behind. Then, by the time of the New Sith Wars, it had seen a resurgence as a Republic military training ground and weapons depot. The forces of Lord Kaan's Brotherhood of Darkness had laid siege to Ohjal Prime for four years. Vicious orbital bombardments, not to mention falling debris from space battles, had devastated the planet beyond repair. Republic and Sith armies finally abandoned it on the eve of the cataclysmic Ruusan Campaign. It had been empty ever since, forgotten by the galaxy's major powers.
Perdition never bothered to scan the planet. That lifeless rock held no meaning for him, and he knew his quarry would not be there. Instead, he focused his scanners on the twelfth moon. His intelligence network's information, and Nujji's, had been correct. On the moon's dark side rested a large warship, an older model Harrier Corvette. In the wake of the Ruusan Reformations, the majority of the Republic's warships were decommissioned and slagged. Some, however, found their way to scrap yards intact, and scavenger groups –or pirates in this case— collected them.
Approaching from the moon's far side, Perdition landed his fighter several kilometres from the corvette, outside their sensor range. From what he'd seen, they weren't smart enough to have roaming patrol craft or sensor buoys. They likely relied on the system's remoteness to protect them. He was about to prove them wrong on that score.
The moon's atmosphere was thin, but breathable. Opening the cockpit, Perdition leapt out of the cockpit, somersaulted, then landed on the rocky ground. Bare, craggy rocks and jagged cliffs were all around, ash-coloured and smelling like burnt sulfur.
Gathering the Force into him, Perdition bolted forward. Sprinting at the speed of sound, he moved far too quick for mortal eyes or mechanical sensors to see. The only trace of his movement was disturbed pebbles and the briefest whisper of wind. The fifteen-kilometre distance between his fighter and the corvette was nothing to a Dark Lord of the Sith. Using the power of the Force, he kept his breathing even and his heartrate normal, preventing too much exertion in the thin atmosphere.
He stopped behind a sharpened pillar of rock, peering at the corvette. It loomed overhead, its cylindrical profile shadowed in the escaping sunlight. Stretching out his senses, he did not detect any lifeforms outside the ship. All the pirates were contained within the corvette.
Good. It would become their tomb.
Perdition zoomed forward, reaching the ship. With two quick leaps, he ascended one of the landing struts and reached the hull. Pressing a hand against the cold metal, he sensed no one in the immediate vicinity. He then drew his lightsaber. Constructed during his apprenticeship, the weapon had been fashioned from black-painted Cortosis and bedecked with gleaming electrum. The leather of the grip was made from the hide of a Terentatek he himself had alchemically created then slew. A quartet of sharpened blade emitters topped the weapon, resembling the claws of the mighty beast.
He thumbed the activation stud, and the crimson blade came to life with a threatening snap-hiss. Perdition reached up and drove the lightsaber blade into the ship's hull. He cut a hole just large enough for him to fit. Letting the section of hull drop to the ground below, the Dark Lord deactivated his weapon and climbed through the opening.
He entered a small storage room full of crates and miscellaneous supplies. Opening the door with a wave of his hand, he stepped out into the corridor. Two beings approached from behind, out of sight. Judging by their voices, they were close. Activating his lightsaber, Perdition turned on his heel and hurled it with great force. A pair of pirates, a Weequay and a Rodian, turned a corner and entered the corridor in idle conversation with each other. Spinning like a dervish, the lightsaber beheaded them both before they had time to react. Their heads plopped onto the floor, the bodies collapsing like marionettes.
Perdition recalled his weapon, which flew into his hand, and kept walking.
Entering crew quarters, he came across a pair of occupied cabins across from each other. Opening the door to his left, he saw a human female cleaning a disassembled blaster pistol. Her eyes widened in shock. With a flick of his wrist, he yanked her from her seat and slammed her into the other door. She grunted, the breath driven from her lungs. "What the kark was that?" a male voice demanded from the other room.
"N-no, don't!" the woman wheezed. When he was certain the other pirate stood in front of the door, Perdition drove his lightsaber through her chest, the door, and into the man. The door slid open, the crimson blade cutting a line through it, revealing a human man. His face was contorted in agony, teeth gritted so hard a few of them cracked. When Perdition deactivated his weapon, both bodies collapsed on top of each other.
It had been too long since he'd indulged himself in this manner. The duel with Briac, while a significant challenge, was different. Combat between Force users was the ultimate test of tactics, matching strength and skill against one of similar power. But it had been years since Perdition himself had ventured out and slaughtered droves of mortal scum. Ridding the galaxy of such filth gave him more pleasure than 1,000 Twi'lek slaves ever could. The lack of an apprentice was, at least in this moment, a boon in that regard.
Everywhere he went, he cut down pirate after pirate. Without mercy, without pity. They had brought this punishment upon themselves. If they hadn't let their greed overcome their sense, they would have been allowed to live. Perdition used the Force to disable and destroy any surveillance devices. He moved as a wraith, drawn from the depths of oblivion to gorge himself on the souls of the damned.
A group of pirates were in the process of repairing and modifying an airspeeder in a machine shop he entered. They stopped what they were doing to stare at him in surprise. In that moment, Perdition acted. Extending his fingers, he blasted a stocky human man with purple lightning. It threw him against a wall as it cooked his flesh. A fat, greasy Gamorrean picked up a large axe and swung it at Perdition's head. Ceasing the flow of lightning, he opened his mouth and bellowed a Force-powered scream. The Gamorrean dropped its axe as every bone in its obese body shattered at once. Blood and brain matter seeped from its ears and nostrils, and it fell back with a wet plop.
The other pirates dropped their tools and weapons, bolting for the far door. Perdition held the door shut with barely an effort. The pirates banged it and tried to pry it open. Sheer terror radiated from them like water through a sieve. By the ancients, it felt glorious. The Dark Lord inhaled sharply, drinking in his victims' despair.
He took the opportunity to watch them, inspecting their reactions. How lesser beings acted in the face of certain death had interested him all his life. Generally, pirates and other underworld scum were cowards wearing the trappings of strength. They preyed on the helpless, but when faced by a superior opponent, turned tail and ran. So it came as a surprise when one of the pirates, a tall human with a thick beard and braided hair, drew a blaster. He fired several times, face contorted in anger. Perdition blocked each bolt, redirecting them into the walls. He then altered the angle of his lightsaber. The next bolt he blocked bounced back and struck one pirate in the skull, killing him. Another struck a female Twi'lek. Soon enough, all the others were dead.
The wrathful pirate, lost in the haze of adrenaline-fueled anger, suddenly realized what was happening. He stopped shooting, aghast at the sight of his dead comrades. Perdition, his curiosity sated, snapped the man's neck with a gesture.
While he encountered several pirates in small groups, either wandering the corridors or in their cabins, most were absent. The majority were elsewhere on the ship, and it didn't take the Dark Lord long to find them gathered in the mess hall. Seventy odd pirates, all collected together in their drunken revelry. Perdition opened the door and casually stepped inside. The first thing he noticed was the music. Loud, bombastic Chyyngisid throat singing blared from overhead speakers, punctuated with booming drums and fiddles.
The pirates celebrated their attacks on the Mining Guild like there was no tomorrow. Drinks freely flowed as men and women sang off-key and bare-knuckle brawled. A human threw knives at a droid painted to resemble an Ewok. A pair of Gran arm-wrestled, eye stalks trembling with the effort. A pink-skinned Zeltron woman stood on a table, dancing and singing for a crowd of her enraptured fellows. Perdition could smell the pheromones she used to lure her audience in. The vices and excesses of the mundane saturated the space, enflaming Perdition's ire.
Nearly as one, all seventy of the Destiny Raiders froze as they noticed him. The music stopped as well, creating a deafening void of silence. Perdition activated his lightsaber with a wide smile. Now, it was time to play.
Vrehk awoke from the sound of the cell door opening. He didn't remember when he drifted off, but was glad to get some sleep. He closed his eyes as the bright lights beamed as if from a star. His grandfather stirred, and he couldn't help but glare impotently at the old man. The captain, along with Huk and four others, stood in the doorway. She had no helmet, and her hands were on her hips. "Good evening gentlemen."
"Finally made up your mind about us?" Chocoth asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
The beautiful scaled woman gave him a condescending smirk. "Why yes, as a matter of fact. I have. Dear Huk has told me all about your annoying, offensive behaviour. I myself prefer to avoid confrontation by shooting confrontational people." She drew her blaster pistol and aimed it at Chocoth's head.
"No, wait. Wait!" he said, holding up his hands. "You're just going to kill us both? If you're going to shoot someone, then shoot him!" He pointed at Vrehk. "I'm the one you want. I'll bring you the ransom."
The captain adopted a disgusted expression. "You're that much of a coward? You'd have me execute your own grandson just to save your worthless hide?"
"Yes, please. Anything!"
"Sorry, dear, but as it turns out, we don't need any credits from your people. The Hutts are paying us enough to buy our own moon. That kind of a payday makes my decision to kill you that much easier. Besides, the boy gets to live. I've grown…rather fond of him. He can be our little mascot." Vrehk's mouth opened in surprise. They were letting him live? A mixture of emotions swirled within him. It would be amazing to get away from his grandfather, but did he really want to live with these pirates? Huk was nice, and so was the captain, but he wasn't sure about the rest. And despite his anger, despite his resentment, did he really want his grandfather to die?
One of the pirates' comlinks beeped. He held it up to his lips and said, "Tor here." The person on the other end said something inaudible. But whatever it was, it made Tor's face pale faster than a sudden winter storm.
"What is it?" the captain asked.
"It's Nu…the Hutts," Tor corrected himself, glancing at Vrehk and Chocoth. "We just got word they're withholding our payment."
"What?!"
Chocoth couldn't help but chuckle. "Not so high and mighty now, are you sweetheart? Maybe you'll rethink your need for my ransom."
The captain glared daggers at him. "Huk," she said. The Aqualish drew his blaster and stepped over to Chocoth, pressing the barrel against his temple. Turning back to Tor, she demanded, "Why in the blazes aren't they paying us? We completed the kriffing job!" Her green scales somehow became a deep, angry pink, matching her rising anger.
Tor swallowed, taking a half-step back. "I-I'm just passing the word along, cap."
She scoffed, looking back at Chocoth. "No matter. I'm still going to blast you, old man. If nothing else, it'll help me vent some rather pressing anger issues that just cropped up." Pursing her lips, she started to squeeze the trigger of her blaster when, all of a sudden, she and the other pirates flinched and recoiled as if struck. They grabbed the comm devices in their ears and threw them on the floor. Even from far away, Vrehk heard the source of the ear-splitting static.
Screaming. Dozens and dozens of people screaming amid blaster shots and explosions.
The outer door slid open, and a pair of fanged Klatooinians rushed in. Out of breath, they slammed the door control console and locked it in place. "Captain," one of them said, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. "We're under attack."
"By who?" she demanded, brow furrowing in confusion. "Our sensors would have picked up any attacking ships."
The Klatooinian shook his head. "No ship. Just him."
"Who's 'him'?"
"No idea," the other one replied, eyes wide with terror. "He looks like a human, but he moves and fights like a demon. Anyone in his path dies. We barely escaped with our lives. He's not normal! I saw him cut five men in half with his lightsaber."
Vrehk perked up, despite the tale of fright the pirate told. Lightsabers were the weapons of the Jedi. He'd read all kinds of stories about them back home. How they could move faster than the wind, move objects with their minds, and vanish into thin air. The one thing common to all the stories was their use of lightsabers, powerful weapons that could deflect blaster bolts and cut through anything.
For a long time, he'd dreamed of becoming a Jedi. Traveling across the galaxy, fighting evil-doers. Vrehk had never seen one before, but he had a vivid mental image from all the stories. It was the sort of life that would take him far from Chocoth.
"Why would a Jedi be attacking us?" Huk asked.
One of the Klatooinians shook his head. "No, not a Jedi. They have rules, a code. They don't kill unless they have to. This…thing is slaughtering us like Womp Rats! Last we saw, he was heading towards the mess hall. We got Vlern and Jeerm setting up a repeating blaster turret outside the door, just in case he comes this way."
The piercing static from the discarded comlinks ended, replaced with pure silence. The lack of any sound made Vrehk shiver like the screaming never could. The captain bent down and picked up her comlink. "This is the captain, does anyone read?"
Nothing.
"Does anyone read? Talk!"
Nothing.
"Blast!" she hissed. "Okay, we need to—" Outside, a continuous whir sounded in the corridor as the repeating blaster fired a steady burst of bolts. Everyone tensed, and the other pirates drew their weapons. "Huk, with me. The rest of you, stay here and kill anything that comes through that door!" She and Huk moved inside the cell, and one of the pirates sealed the door. Huk activated a glow rod, illuminating the darkness. Glaring down at Chocoth, she said, "Try anything, and I will gouge your eyes out."
"He's only one man!" Chocoth protested. "Can't you underworld slime handle one man?" As if in answer, a muffled explosion boomed from outside. Vrehk moved as far away from the door as possible, then clutched his knees to his chest.
After the explosion, there came a horrible, spine-chilling sound of metal creaking and tearing open. The four pirates began shouting, and blasters were fired. In response, something gave off an electric hum, and blaster bolts gave way to screaming. Something thudded against the cell door, making everyone flinch. Another thud, then a loud crunch and a wail of agony. Within seconds, the fighting stopped as the four pirates became silent.
The cell door began to groan.
The captain and Huk aimed their blasters, though Vrehk doubted they'd be much good. If an entire ship full of armed pirates couldn't stop this person, whoever they were, then the two of them couldn't. The door groaned, then screeched as something forced it open. Standing in the now-open doorway was a human man dressed in a black cloak with an elaborate silver broach. He looked middle-aged, but had the dignified bearing of someone belonging to the upper class. His face was symmetrical and patrician, with a slightly pointed nose and angular chin. The man looked pale and gaunt, like a walking corpse, skin pulled tight over his bones. The feature that grabbed Vrehk's attention was his eyes. They glowed red, like the heart of a volcano before a cataclysmic eruption.
The cloaked man took one glance at the blasters aimed at his chest. He made a pulling motion with one hand, and the weapons were wrenched from their owners' hands onto the floor. "Uvanar?!" Chocoth said, mouth falling open. "What in the blazes are you doing here?"
"Hello, Chocoth," Uvanar said. He spoke in a calm tone, but there was an undercurrent of menace that could make a Krayt Dragon cuddly by comparison. "I must say I'm glad you're here. It saves me the trouble of hunting you down later."
The old man scoffed. "I knew it. This is all because my colleagues and I raised prices on your ore shipments."
"Your colleagues are dead," Uvanar told him. "You should be dead, too. Instead, this worthless bunch decided to take you hostage. I couldn't allow that to pass."
The captain and Huk glanced at Vrehk.
"For such a powerful man, Uvanar, you always failed to comprehend the true nature of the galaxy. It isn't influence or trust or violence. Credits. Credits are the lifeblood of business, politics, everything. I had the vision to take what I wanted, and I became rich. You think you can scare me, Uvanar? You are beneath me!"
"Grandfather," Vrehk whispered. "Don't make him angry, please."
"Quiet!" the old man bellowed, baring his teeth as he glared at him. "The adults are talking! Now pipe down and don't interrupt me again!"
The captain audibly swallowed. "You killed my men. I have no illusions about what you can do to us." Just outside the cell, the four pirates lay dead, decapitated or bent in half like sheets of flimsiplast. In the corridor, the two men with the repeating blaster turret still smoked from the explosion. "Do what you will with Chocoth, but spare the boy. He's under our protection."
"Is that so?" Uvanar asked, sounding intrigued. He looked down at Vrehk with a clinical eye, one the boy couldn't meet. "Unfortunately for you, everyone on this vessel was dead the moment I laid eyes upon it."
"Please," Vrehk whimpered, on the verge of tears. "I don't want to die!"
Chocoth growled in annoyance. "What did I say, boy? WHAT DID I SAY? Stupid, ungrateful little cur! You can't even obey my instructions." He rose to his feet, disregarding the spectre of death facing them. Huk tried to stand in the way, but the old man shoved him aside. "From the day you were dumped at my feet, I've never known a moment's peace." He slapped Vrehk hard on the cheek. "You're disrespectful, irritating, and incapable of following the simplest orders." Slap. "I wish you would've died with your parents; it would have been better for all of us!" Slap.
As his grandfather ranted and shouted, Vrehk cowered as he always did. With every blow, he cried out. But within the shell of terror and depression and pain, a molten core of hatred grew. Hatred of his grandfather, the man who'd made his life a living hell for over a year. The hatred grew and grew, intensifying until Vrehk felt his skin boiling from the pressure.
He stopped crying as he bared his teeth.
He dug his sharp fingernails into his palms hard enough to draw black blood.
He breathed so hard and so fast his heart almost tore free from his chest.
Uvanar looked down at him with renewed interest, head cocked to the side. By the time his grandfather finished ranting, Vrehk felt as if he'd explode. The pressure was too much, and needed to be released. Unable to bear it any longer, he screamed so hard he tore his vocal cords, unleashing the energy inside. Uvanar's eyes widened in surprise as he seemed to fly backwards.
It all happened at once.
The captain and Huk doubled over, gasping for breath. Crimson tendrils of energy emerged from Vrehk's body, latching onto their chests. As one, their bodies decayed and withered in seconds. Smooth flesh became wrinkled and dry, eyes liquefied in their sockets, and organs shriveled like rotten fruit. The tendrils pulsed, feeding the energy into Vrehk. He seemed to radiate heat and light, like a new star forming from the stolen life energies. He felt the universe washing over him in a great wave; colour and sound burst in flashed as his mind relished in the sweet sensations.
Vrehk glared at his grandfather with all the hatred of the universe. Lost in a trance, awash in the sensation of ultimate power, he unleashed it all in a single burst. Extending his fingers, he discharged a tempest of lightning. Red bolts arced from his fingertips, so bright and intense they would have blinded anyone who looked at them. Chocoth took the full brunt of the attack, shrieking in agony. His body contorted, his skin becoming translucent. For a brief moment, his skeleton became visible as every bone charred and disintegrated.
After what seemed like an eternity, it all stopped. The two desiccated corpses fell on top of each other, paper-thin skin stretched tight over skulls in permanent expressions of terror. Chocoth, fluids leaking from his eye sockets after his eyes exploded, slumped onto the floor. His clothes had melted onto his skin, smoking like a roasted piece of meat. Vrehk fell to his hands and knees, coughing. The room spun as his mind recovered from the heady rush.
When he looked over at the remains of his victims, a part of him recoiled in fear and disgust. But another part, the hidden angry part of himself he'd kept locked up until now, felt nothing but relief. Finally, Chocoth was silenced. Vrehk was free.
Uvanar stepped back into the cell, examining the scene. He looked at the corpses, then at Vrehk. After a long, uncomfortable silence, he said, "You are exactly who I've been searching for."
As of today, I finally finished my week-long Star Wars marathon. Not counting sleep, it took just shy of 80 hours to watch all the movies (minus the sequels because they're complete trash), the 2003 cartoon Clone Wars, and all 7 seasons of The Clone Wars. It's been a long, wild ride. By the time I got to the end of Return of the Jedi, I was a blubbering mess. Star Wars is such a wonderful, amazing universe that watching all these movies and shows made me feel like I was living in it.
This year has been miserable for many, many reasons. But Star Wars has always been a safe retreat for me in hard times. As a wise old master once said, "The Force will be with you, always."
