Dark Side doubts
- Dustil Onasi -
I stepped softly through the granite halls that were carved deep into the rock; the Force wrapped tightly around me, concealing my presence from most. As ever, the thrumming power inherent in the connection filled me with conviction that my path was the only sensible choice.
The expression on that Twi'lek girl's face flashed through my mind. Scared, but so earnestly hopeful it made me want to puke. And yet… and yet a weak, traitorous part of me had wanted to throw it all away, and follow her.
To where, Dustil? To a group of sad mercenaries who can apparently "help" me against the power of the Dark Side? I snorted derisively to myself, and a nearby Sith soldier whirled around, startled, searching up and down the corridor but not spotting my presence. Why would I give this up this gift?
She sounded so stupid, so naïve. Most people are good at heart… what complete trash. But she believed it; I could see it in her shiny, innocent eyes. Selene had been a bit like that, once, and the pull to trust in her worldview had been difficult to resist.
Selene was long gone now.
With every step that further lifted me in Master Uthar's esteem - that developed my abilities and strengthened my grasp on the Force - I could feel the boy I was once die. Bit by bit. I didn't want to be that hopeful dumb boy, who'd laughed and lived on the swoop track and yearned for a father who never returned home.
But I wasn't sure I wanted to be what I was becoming.
The fear on the girl's face should have been gratifying; a testament to my might over her. Yet somehow, a sickening type of heartache was undermining it. I need to control this. Let my anger fade the rest away. For I didn't want Uthar prying into my thoughts and seeing that Twi'lek. He would scour my mind, too, if he thought something was detrimental to my training. And Uthar was nothing if not meticulous in tying up loose ends. A good thing she said her stay on Korriban was brief.
The hallway expanded into a magnificent cavern that dominated this side of the Academy. The caves here were ancient but, in recent times, sculptures of dead Sith Lords had been carved into the granite, threads of black ferracrystal running through the art and creating a stunning display. I wasn't much interested in that sort of thing, but even I had to admit the results were impressive.
I stopped, leaning silently against a massive statue of a sneering Lord Naga Sadow while observing the occupants of the room. Selene used to pull comic faces at the sculpture, waiting until Mekel or I would break into fits of muffled laughter. Then there was the time she flicked a glob of frostti cream right up Sadow's nose. It was a good thing Mekel had Force pushed it off just as Master Uthar rounded the corner.
Things had changed since those days.
Glancing around, I saw Master Uthar was busy extolling the virtues of the Sith Code to a handful of listeners; new students I mostly didn't recognize. The one I did – Shaardan – was nodding vigorously, like an eager kath hound begging for a bone. He'd been here for years, failing the Adept trials three times thus far. It made him an anomaly; most either passed or died in the attempt. And the tests were gruelling enough that I certainly wouldn't put myself through them a second time.
But Shaardan was harmless; all talk and no strike. He was a toy, really, that both Masters Uthar and Yuthura played with turn apiece. Standing near him were two others; a human woman and a Cathar of all things, listening intently to Uthar's lecture. Their faces were wary and their bodies tense, so they couldn't be entirely dim-witted about what they were getting into.
Sometimes newcomers were. Some of them didn't make it past Uthar's first lecture.
Further beyond in the shadows my eyes caught on Mekel, who was standing still in the entrance to one of the training rooms, facing back into the cavern. Intense hatred marred his face as he glared fiercely at the newcomers.
Interesting. I edged around the cavernous area, holding tight onto the Force wrapped around me. Master Uthar showed no sign of recognizing my presence, but not much escaped his notice. I kept my eyes on the listeners, and was surprised to see the human female glance in my direction, before focussing back on Uthar.
Mekel's gaze shot to me as I closed in, and a shutter fell on his expression. He was one of the few who knew about my ability and, other than Master Uthar, the only one who could recognize the dead patch of Force that signified my cloaked presence. It'd taken him years of practice and observation.
"Having fun?" he drawled, slouching back against the granite wall.
"You got an issue with one of them?" I asked, releasing the Force and jerking my head back to the centre of the room. Mekel scowled.
"Fishing for information as always, huh? Well, I'm sure Lashowe will acquaint everyone here, so I may as well tell you." He crossed his arms, glaring at me as if I was somehow responsible for his current predicament. "That woman back there, that Ness Jonohl, she's gonna frakking get what's coming to her. If you find out anything useful about her, let me know. I'd be… grateful."
I wasn't sure what Mekel's gratitude was worth these days. "Tell me what happened, and I'll see," I shot back.
His lips twisted. "The inbred harpy challenged me, in front of Yuthura, in front of the entrance." His dark eyes were flashing dangerously, and his third finger crooked on his thigh. [I seek revenge], it said in the street-sign he'd taught Selene and I. Once, we'd communicated that way constantly.
I quirked an eyebrow in surprise. "What, to get in?" That's bold. Mekel was nobody's fool; if he thought he could slither out of a dangerous duel he would have done so. Also, he wasn't exactly a pushover, in the Force or in combat. But the implication here was that he certainly hadn't won.
Mekel nodded abruptly. "Yuthura's pretty pissed with my performance. She's sending me off to the tombs to prove myself or some rot. Like I'm not already a fully-fledged Adept."
I felt my brows rise further. The tombs were dangerous, a place Initiates were sent, often to weed out the weak or the idiotic. Those of us who returned did so without any form of prestige, and a new humility towards the Sith Masters. For the true Masters of the Force – Uthar and Yuthura – had no compunction about wandering through the deathly traps and Dark taint that had driven many a lesser Sith completely insane. Us journeymen knew better than to enter any tomb unprepared.
Mekel was still seething. "I want to teach that frakking scow a lesson, but it'll have to wait until I've returned. And that schutta Lashowe came out and witnessed most of our fight. I'm going to punch her smug little face in one of these days." Mekel sent me one last furious look and then turned, storming away down one of the tunnels that led to the sleeping quarters. I reached out to the Force once more, wrapping it tightly around me like a reflective shield, obscuring my physical presence. With a deft twist, I cut the Force weaves around me off from the rest of the world, and my psychic presence would be unnoticeable to anyone.
I thought back to my once-friend. There had never been any harmony between him and Lashowe; Mekel's cruel streak was rivalled only by hers. Both well-established students, Lashowe had been here the longest and believed that gave her superiority over us. Her venomous barbs didn't aggravate me quite the same as it did Mekel, which irritated him all the more. He wanted allies against Lashowe, but these days we pretty much all stood alone. Trust no one.
We'd been tight, once; Mekel, Selene and I. That was before Selene had vanished, and I'd turned on my old friend; still, to this day, believing he knew something of her disappearance.
Mekel was a Telosian refugee like myself, and we'd both been nabbed by Sharlan Nox, a Dark Jedi recruiter who'd picked at the leftovers of the carnage on Telos. I'd just had enough time to see the obliteration of my home – the clinical high-rise apartment Father paid for and Mother had hated - before I'd been captured. Much later, a HoloNet news search had confirmed my suspicions; my mother was well and truly dead.
It helped that my useless father was famous, otherwise I highly doubted I'd have found her name and had that closure. Once, I'd asked after Mekel's family, only to hit a stone wall. We'd never exchanged backgrounds, despite our shared heritage. All I knew were guesses – he was from an entirely different part of Telos to me. A darker, more dangerous part I'd never known.
He didn't know my family name – no one here did. From the moment Sharlan captured me, I was smart enough to shut up about that. A Republic war hero for a father would hardly be an asset. It never had been, after all. I'd once envied those who had dads who actually came home at night.
The early days on Korriban had been frantic, desperate, and yet somehow infinitely happier than the present. Mekel and I had bonded over the destruction of our homeworld – as morbid and devastating as that was – and Selene… well, Selene was a shining star that didn't belong here. It wasn't long before she'd begun to have doubts. She wanted to leave. She'd convinced Mekel, or so I'd thought.
He'd been the last to see her.
She wouldn't have left Korriban without seeking me out once more. We'd been on the cusp of something special, something I'd never felt before, and although to this day I wasn't sure whether I'd have left with her I just knew she would have tried to persuade me one last time.
And Mekel… he was adamant they were just friends and he'd never had any interest in her that way… but they'd been close too. Mekel was smarter and funnier and better looking than me, so I wouldn't have been surprised, really. But he'd vowed there was nothing there, and that he wanted to leave too - that Korriban was twisting his soul and making him crueller and meaner than he was happy with. Deep words, and ones he denied thereafter.
When Selene disappeared, Mekel and I had no choice but to stay, and a wary distance developed between us. He'd become Yuthura's man, and I… I was Uthar's pet. I heard the term and detested it, but Master Uthar was quick to allay my frustrations.
It's a derogatory term, yes, but it means people will underestimate you, Dustil. Allow you strength to blossom, your anger to crest and your knowledge to grow. One day you will no longer hide in the shadows but take your place at my side.
I could hear his voice in my head, sometimes. I thought less of Mother, and Telos, and Selene, and more about the power and invulnerability that my path would undeniably lead me to.
To Yuthura Ban's downfall.
I'd not killed outright, not yet, but I'd been implicit in the deaths of some already. One day, I would challenge Yuthura, and only one of us would walk away.
I was nowhere near ready. Yet.
But things were changing rapidly, and I had to up my game. Ever since that man had arrived a month ago.
…
"And this is it? These are the students you have been training for our Master?" The words dripped with venomous disappointment. The man's eyes were dead pits of hate as they fell on each and every one of us. "Sixteen Adepts and a few dozen Initiates. I am disenchanted, Uthar."
Master Uthar's face was blank, but he bowed his head fractionally.
"Darth Bandon, we aim for the glory of our Master and his will… but we can only mould the clay that is here."
"Then look further afield, Uthar," his voice snapped out as the Force spun around him in intensity. It did that around Uthar, too. "You have Nisotsa Organa and Sharlan Nox afield hunting for new blood, and that Ban woman canvassing the traffic here. If they're not bringing in the troops, then discipline them or I'll see to it myself. You won't appreciate it I have to get my hands dirty, Headmaster. I usually take things too far when I do."
But that wasn't fair! We already had new students arriving almost daily. And near all of them were weeded out; either they pissed themselves on the first few days and tried to run, or they karked it in the tombs. The greenhorn's initiation, we called it. Those that came back, crawling with humiliation, were the ones who lived. My eyes met Mekel's, standing to attention behind the billowing dark robes of Darth Bandon. I could almost hear his thoughts – what a frakking gimboid – and his fingers twitched - [power-mad] -and I didn't know whether I wanted him to be cautious or caught out. I settled for not signing back. I'd trusted him, once. First rule of the Sith: don't trust anyone, not even your allies.
Darth Bandon looked around at the students once more, a sneer on his face. "I'll take the ten longest serving Adepts."
…
And just like that a power vacuum emerged at the Academy. Darth Bandon had done this before, but never had I remembered so few fully trained students left. Only six Adepts – five, after Thalia ran - with Lashowe being the longest-serving and Dak following her lead when he wasn't nerding out over the excavations. Lashowe was Uthar's, as much as me, but I was his hidden trump card, his prize. Lashowe was just his front to Yuthura.
And since Bandon had ripped most of the strength from the Academy, Uthar would make his move soon. He was discontented with Yuthura's growing insubordination, and Bandon's eyes had fallen on me, just as he was about to leave. Master Uthar had made some comment about fresh prisoners to distract him, but I'd seen the slight tightening of discomfort on his face.
Next time Bandon arrives, he'll take me. Unless I'm Uthar's first apprentice, he'll be able to take me.
I shivered. Nothing on Telos had prepared me for the political games of power that went with being a Sith. Mekel handled it better, in some ways, but sometimes I fancied it was despair I saw in his eyes, too.
Good. If he had something to do with Selene… then frakking good. I hope he chokes on it.
Back in the grandiose cavern Master Uthar had turned and was headed towards me. I straightened, carefully blanked my mind, and released my grip on the weaves and they unravelled, joining the Force. No flicker of startlement crossed the Sith Master's face; he'd known all along about my presence. The newcomers were wandering away behind Yuthura, headed towards the Initiates' sleeping quarters. They'd obviously passed first inspection. I wondered idly if they realized just how many trials were to come. No one's place here was secure, as Mekel's current situation so aptly showed.
"My dear boy," Master Uthar greeted, and I bowed once. "Walk with me. I wish to show you something highly entertaining."
I fell in next to him, silent, as he strode confidently down through the establishment he was master of. I envied that power; here, in his kingdom, Uthar was a god. Until someone strikes him down, a little voice reminded me.
For that was the way of the Sith. The powerful rise on the backs of the weak.
The girl's voice rang in my head. There's a better way! A happier way!
"You are distracted," Uthar murmured, coming to a standstill and turning milky white eyes on me. Some students whispered that he'd voluntarily eschewed any physical vision, preferring instead to see the world through the Force at all times. Perhaps, in his case, it was just the way his body reacted to the volatile power of the Dark Side.
"Ahhh, you are thinking of your old friend," Uthar murmured, and with a tingle I felt him probe my psyche. My body iced over, and I deliberately pulled up a memory of Selene in my head to encourage his assumption.
Uthar wasn't right all of the time, it seemed.
He slung an arm around me in a false sort of companionship. I did my best not to tense. "Let go of your doubts, young one. Shed your weaknesses. If she had stayed here, she would have only held you back, and you know this."
"Yes, Master Uthar," I murmured, looking away, and most assuredly not thinking of my encounter with a hapless Twi'lek girl mere hours ago.
This seemed to appease him, for he carried on walking and I followed in silence. Sometimes Uthar would be like that, considering and almost patriarchal in his regard towards me. Other times, I'd disappoint him and things would not be quite so… pleasant.
Our path took us past the training rooms; circular arenas where students would pit themselves against each other, and not always with the readily accessible training 'sabers. They were empty currently; the entire Academy had an eerily barren feel to it since Darth Bandon's visit.
There were only three ways to leave the Sith Academy. Get trained enough to join Malak's war, be powerful enough to usurp the headmaster or his apprentice, or die.
Some, like Selene and Thalia, tried to run. Whatever had happened to my old friend, I hoped she'd made it out. There was no way Thalia could have, since she'd been penned into the shyrack caves – a place no Force sensitive would go if they valued their lives. Thalia had only just graduated, too, but she'd been as firmly Yuthura's as Mekel was. Yuthura had grown too strong in the ranks – and I wasn't quite sure how Uthar had tricked Thalia into running, but I imagined both her and her little group of Initiates would be digesting slowly in a terentatek by now.
With a start, I realized we'd walked further than I anticipated. A locked durasteel door had been welded into the rock, and Uthar dismissed the soldier guarding it, opening the door with a wave of his hand. I still didn't know if that was a Force trick, or some sort of wireless auto-print mechanism.
I followed him into the interrogation rooms.
Three more soldiers were inside, two standing at ease by the door and one working on a console.
"Leave us," Uthar demanded curtly, and they all nodded respectfully before disappearing.
Students were not strictly allowed entrance into the interrogation rooms, although I'd been here before more than once. The soldiers kept the captives… captive, and alive. Dark Jedi would direct the treatment. I remembered once when Darth Bandon had visited and killed two Jedi Padawans in a display of overzealous examination.
Master Uthar, who'd pegged them as potential students in the making, was left seething, but Darth Bandon was one of the few that Uthar wouldn't readily pick a fight with.
Sometimes, if a captive had outlived their usefulness, they'd be transferred to a practice room for us students to experiment on. Lashowe, in particular, revelled in those opportunities. She had a keen ability to harness the Force into electrical lightning, and relished the chance to show it off. Those unfortunate prisoners met their end in that duelling room.
There was only one prisoner, shackled in the central cage. She was slumped back against a conductive pillar that allowed for variable electric shock treatment to be administered, and surrounded by the amber crackle of a Force-inhibition field.
I recognized her immediately.
…
"Are you ok?" I asked the older woman as she sat morosely in the cantina, a non-alcoholic juice cradled between her hands. Wisps of sun-streaked brown hair framed an older face. She looked tired, and unbearably sad. "Can I help you?"
She turned at my voice, and eyed me over. Immersed in the Force, I could feel her senses stretch out and take stock of mine.
"Maybe," she said slowly. "I am looking for Yuthura Ban."
I slid in the chair opposite her. She matched the description the traders had given, and her Force ability further qualified that. This is Rita Sunrider, or I'm a Mon Calamari's lunch. Freckles spattered over a lean, graceful face that looked out of place on Korriban.
"If you're looking for Yuthura, you want in on the Academy," I stated boldly, hoping to force her hand. I'd had no luck tracking down Kylah yet, and achieving my secondary target would at least be a sop to Master Uthar.
"I am after information, actually," she corrected in a soft voice. "I am trying to track down a friend. She may be with the Dark Jedi."
Probably a revenge quest, I thought angrily. Come here to assassinate some student who stole her dinner once. All sorts of scum drifted to Korriban, thinking they'd be a match for the Academy.
"I doubt I can help you with that. But I know who can." At her inquisitive look, I elaborated further. "I can feel your strength. My master is the leader of the Academy. He'll want to persuade you to join our ranks, if you are so inclined. At the least, he'll be able to find the information you need."
She looked decidedly uneasy. "If I can find out about my friend without entering the Academy I'd be happier. I need to let her know she can come back; to tell her about her master. Is there a Cathar studying there?" Her words rang true, and I couldn't help but believe them genuine. But still, Uthar requested her presence, and I'd bring her one way or another.
"There is a Cathar," I lied. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen one. "I don't know her name though."
The colour drained from Rita's face, but her eyes burned a hopeful blue. "There is?" she whispered. "Could it be? Could I have actually found her?"
I shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to proceed.
"Can I implore you to request her presence here?" Rita leaned forward, hope shedding years from her expression. "Please. I can pay you if you desire."
"I can do better than that," I offered, smiling at her. "I'll take you to her."
…
She'd still taken some convincing, but her yearning to reacquaint with her old friend overrode sensible caution. She'd followed me into the Academy and directly to Uthar, who summarily dismissed me with a pleased nod.
I deliberately hadn't thought of her again, until now.
And now, here she was, slumped and unconscious from some ministrations of Master Uthar's no doubt. He'd get what he wanted, and then she'd die, either in this room or by the hand of a student.
Another death to my tally. Drex Voona, a male Rodian Force-sensitive. Talal Born, a male human Padawan who'd fallen. Tushka, a mercenary who'd been in possession of knowledge that Uthar deemed dangerous. And now Rita Sunrider, a foolish Jedi on a quest to save someone who probably wasn't worth saving.
I'd never killed outright, but those deaths belonged to me directly. Drex Voona. Talal Born. Tushka. Don't be a marsh toad, Dustil, I sneered to myself. Uthar doesn't remember all the names he's killed. And just think how many died on Telos. People die every damn day.
"I thought you might like to see the results," Uthar commented, his gaze fixed on me. He was gauging my reaction, looking for any signs of weakness or mercy. Mercy is weakness. I straightened my spine and looked him directly in the eyes.
"I hope you've retrieved the information you desire, Master," I responded calmly.
"Oh yes," Uthar breathed, before bending over the console and tapping a few keys. A robotic arm moved inside the cage, stabbing Rita with a hypodermic needle. Her body shuddered as the drugs flowed into her system. "It's not of any great import, but it is amusing. And you've missed out on learning these sorts of techniques, my dear boy. I would be remiss in my duties as a teacher if I did not give you the opportunity to hone your skills."
The bottom of my stomach fell nauseatingly; I bit the inside of my cheek and forced a smile that felt as fake as it must have looked. He wants me to practice torture. Rita moaned and opened glassy eyes that slowly fixed on Uthar. A ripple of panicked fear crossed over her face.
"Do you want to know her real name?" Uthar murmured. "I knew it already, but it was delightful to make her confess it. Breaking people is a sweet pastime. See if you can, my dear boy. Be inventive."
Uthar pressed another key on the console, and the amber prism of Force-inhibition stuttered, and then winked out. I understood, then, that Uthar meant for me to find another method of interrogation than the standard electric shock treatment. Can't have you taking the easy way out behind a console, Dustil. My own inner voice was a dark sneer. You have to get your hands dirty. You have to be inventive.
I swallowed back a lump of sick, my fists clenching tight as I willed myself to be strong. I must do this. There is no other way. Rita slowly swung her gaze to me, and her eyes widened comically in outrage.
"You!" she cried brokenly. "You betrayed me!"
I forced a nonchalant shrug and took a step towards her. "I'm a Sith, and you are a Jedi," I retorted coldly. "What the frakk do you expect, you imbecile." Uthar chuckled behind me. A sort of resigned desolation swept Rita's face, and her eyes closed.
"It was a lie then," she whispered. "There is no Cathar here."
"No," I conceded, and then a sudden vision of whom Uthar had been lecturing minutes ago sparked in my head. A human woman and a Cathar, of all things. I turned to look at Master Uthar. "There wasn't then," I mumbled under my breath.
Uthar threw back his head and laughed. "Isn't it hilarious, my dear boy? I am intrigued to see if it's the same Cathar; it is rare to encounter one. And, as the Jedi as so fond of saying, there is no coincidence… there is only the Force."
I turned back to look at Rita; her eyes had snapped back open and she was staring at the both of us, puzzled and afraid. Uthar's stepped up behind me, resting his hand warmly on my neck. It felt like an unbearable weight that I would never be able to shake off. There was no point in trying.
"It's your move, my dear boy."
I'd not managed the sort of skills Lashowe had. My talents lay in concealment, a duality of hiding both my presence physically and spiritually. Master Uthar had been intrigued with me from near the start; he'd admitted once that he'd never known someone with the ability to enshroud themselves both ways. But, as he so often lamented, my use of the Force was too inward, and I needed the practice.
My hand raised tentatively, and I pushed outwards, hard against her neck. She choked, and strained against the durasteel restraints, but it did not stop her breathing.
"What is your real name?" I asked. I had to do this, I had to go through with it, and I would not fail in front of Uthar. For his disappointment, at times, could be worse than what I was about to do.
"I- I have already told your Master!" she gasped, and anger twisted her face now, sitting hand in hand with the fear. I could feel the ebb of the Force sitting deep within her, now, cautious and watchful. She was physically restrained, but without the inhibition field her Force abilities had returned. No doubt, she'd already tried her strength against Master Uthar, and his return response was likely what was holding her back, now.
Or her injuries.
"But you haven't told me," I replied. Once more, I lashed out with the Force, a tight squeezing of air currents under my command. She choked, and shook her head irritably. I could feel Uthar's displeasure behind me.
"Find your strength, my dear boy," he said quietly.
"It – is – Rita Sunrider!" the woman ground out, and the anger in her was winning now. It burned within her Force signature.
I could feel anger burn inside of me, too; that she would make me do this, make me feel this squeamishness at something that should come naturally to a true Sith. She could at least make it easy for me! I felt my face contort as I allowed my fury to blossom. She's nothing but a worn out Jedi. She is no match for me, and I won't let her upstage me in front of Uthar.
He'd told me to find my strength. So, I pulled hard onto the Force, melded it in the weaves I used every day, and wrapped it around the Jedi schutta. And squeezed.
She screamed as the pressure assailed her body from every side; her stomach, her arms, her mouth, her eyes. I felt the response of Force power bleed out from her, weak and tired and injured, just like her physical body. I focussed hard on forcing the weaves to remain just so, keeping my anger stoked above all else. This is your fault, Rita Sunrider. You should never have agreed to come.
A slight touch from Uthar had me release it once more, and she sagged against the restraints, a low whimper escaping her. Her aura dimmed, shrinking to within her own body.
"What is your name?" I asked again.
She slowly lifted her head, and I could see the fear there once more. But the fury – it hadn't completely gone. She's not broken yet. She licked her lips, and glanced behind me to Uthar.
"It is Belaya Linn," she said softly.
It wouldn't be enough. I knew it, I could tell by Uthar's heavy hand on my shoulder, and I damned the human for the visible anger on her face. Why must you make me do this more? I screamed inwardly.
"What is the Cathar's name?" My voice was low and dark, and she flinched.
"No," she said. "No… she is not here. Do not make me answer that… it is of no import to you!"
"Tell me," I insisted, but she shook her head wildly, a sob tumbling from her lips, and I felt my rage spike against her once more. With a snarl, I threw the Force back towards her, with all my fury and fear and doubt behind it, amplifying it. She was forced back against the restraints as she writhed and screamed in agony. Damn you! I don't want to do this… why are you making me, you stupid Jedi scow? I heard the crack of ribs breaking, and once more, Uthar's hand pulled me back from the abyss.
She was crying, in great heaving sobs, her head bowed and words tumbling aimlessly from her lips. Her psychic signature on the Force had retreated to a whisper.
"Please… no more," she begged, her voice breaking on a deep, hacking cough. I saw the bright red splatter of blood strike the floor like a brand.
"Then answer me," I said coldly. "Answer me, or taste more of the same. I will have the name in the end."
"Juhani," she whispered, head still lolling as she sobbed again. "Forgive me… Juhani."
I was made of ice cold granite with a pit of fury at my core. It was the only way to not feel, to not care about this woman whose quest had so disastrously failed. I turned, my face expressionless, to look at my master.
He tapped a key on the console, and the amber prism of Force-inhibition once more winked into existence. In a way, it protected the breaking woman as much as it imprisoned her.
Uthar was smiling at me benevolently. "You did well, my boy." His voice was soft and caressing.
It damned me to a future of darkness.
xXx
