:: Chapter Thirty Five ::
An elevator took them below the planet's surface where dimly lit tunnels formed a time-consuming maze. Each turn lead to another intersection of hallways, all twisting in various directions and without guidance, one could easily get lost for days but the deceiving labyrinth wouldn't deter Eliza—not now that she'd come this far.
While the Force was said to be mostly absent on Nathema, Eliza felt her instincts heightened though she couldn't discern whether that was in reaction to the adrenaline now rushing through her body or if more was at play. She recalled Vitiate's words and her brows crinkled—was he providing a connection for her to tap into?
It didn't matter, not at this moment and she devoted her trust and faith to her instincts, blindly following their lead. Her heart beating steady and silent to let inner peace prevail over her passions, to not be lead astray by emotion or the panic she'd held in the days past. To banish the illness she'd experienced though she barely felt it now.
A whiff of sulfur reached her nostrils when they passed a blackened out chamber and the acrid odors coming from inside left everyone reeling. One glance inside room showed a pair of furnaces and none of them needed a guess at the chamber's purpose. They quickly moved on.
"A labyrinth of death," Andronikos mused quietly as they delved deeper into the structure.
"Why is it you Sith are so invested in this stuff? Ghosts, mysticism, eternal life, spells, magical trinkets and what have you."
Eliza glanced over her shoulder. "A chance to live forever at the ultimate height of your continued, ever-growing, power?"
"Would you?"
"No. To live forever feels more finite and suffocating than a simple death."
Another corner turned brought them closer to the inner sanctum and Theron was the first to pick up on faint mutterings, a voice, and he gestured for silence. The hallway widened into a ring on the upper level that overlooked the auditorium-esque area below and Eliza's fingers curled around the solid, metal banister while she observed.
A body, desiccating at an alarming rate, hung strapped to a tilted slab and two large stasis tubes flanked either side. A little further along the back wall stood a single kolto tank, moss creeping up the inside while the metal encasing was tinted by a coat of dirty orange rust. Clearly, hygiene and health were a last priority within the laboratory.
She caught several critters skitter across the floor where dark stains, of either lost blood or dropped vials with questionable substances, discolored the duracrete tiles. A leak in one of the pipes above dripped tiny beads of water into a puddle right by her feet with a repetitive, plopping sound which, while irritating, wasn't enough to distract her from what she witnessed next.
Down below at the very center of the laboratory stood a man, Anomid by the looks of it and a scientist, haunched over the unmistakable form of Lord Scourge strapped to the examination table. Broken, beaten, scarred—not too far off from the horrors she'd imagined—but alive, at least for now and an inaudible sigh of relief escaped her lips.
"Mm, yes, perhaps… this one might do," mumbled Jarak while preparing another injection. Blind and deaf to the visitors stepping a silent foot into his laboratory.
"Stop!" Eliza barked and she leaped the banister, landing on her feet at ground level.
Entirely out of habit she made a quick wave with her hand to rip the needle and ampule from the Anomid and to her surprise, it worked. Her powers, which ought to be muted on this planet, functioned as they should but at a taxing cost. It drained and Eliza felt an aching within but ignored it and silenced her own questions on the matter.
"Wh—how… Intruders!" screamed Jarak and reached to sound the alarm but within a split second, Eliza had him thrown back and lifted in the air. His legs kicking beneath him to settle on a surface that wasn't there.
"Don't! Even! Think about it! You…"
What she wouldn't give to kill the scientist right there. Strangle him, choke the life from his miserable body and watch him writhe and squirm as death took hold—simply snapping his neck wouldn't be satisfactory enough—but she held back realizing he may yet serve a purpose.
"Get Scourge," she bit at those behind her while forced to keep her focus on the Anomid's constrictions.
It took every effort, every modicum of her strength to keep the man within her grasp and she hissed furiously, "What have you done to him?!"
"I… but, my Lord Emperor, he, oh no, no please, have mercy," Jarak stammered in a pathetic plea, "I am but a humble servant. Emperor Arcann, he would—"
"I do not care what he would! Tell me everything!"
"I can't! He would… oh stars, no, he would kill me!"
"And what do you think I'll do to you, huh?"
With nimble and swift fingers, Theron and Doc worked to release Lord Scourge from the bindings that kept him restrained and the sudden movement jerked the Sith from the shelter of memories he'd built within his mind. Staring up at the spy he faintly recognized before his head lolled sideways and he caught a glimpse of Eliza.
'No… it can't be.' His eyes widened and he gripped Theron's wrist in anger.
"You let her come here?!" he snarled and spat.
Snatching his wrist free to unlock the metal neck brace next, Theron gave the Sith a pointed look. "You and I both know there is no 'letting her' do anything. There's either going with her or sitting back while she goes off alone."
"Get her the hell out of here! This place isn't safe, she shouldn't have come!"
"Quiet!" Eliza snapped when she overheard, far harsher than she'd intended to but anger and passion fueled her now and she had no interest in his protest or bickering.
It was a safeguard as well. The second she'd spotted his subdued physique strapped to the examination table, clearly damaged yet breathing and alive, she'd faced two choices. Crumble to pieces and weep over his broken body or hold herself together and don a mask that would allow her to successfully carry out her mission—his rescue—and the latter would serve her a great deal more.
Looking over her shoulder for just a moment, their eyes met. Her heart fluttered and her breath caught. Her brows knitted together, considering her tone had been too harsh but no, that wasn't anything to dwell on right now—she would apologize once they got off Nathema and he would understand.
"Doc?" she continued and banished any sentiment from her eyes and mind, "Have you ever studied the biology of an Anomid? Do you know where their most vital and sensitive areas are?"
His mouth fell agape and he looked at Theron, unsure of how to answer. "Uh…"
"Never mind. I'll have more fun discovering for myself. Unless, of course…" Her attention turned back on Jarak.
"This… thing decides to spoil my pleasure by actually telling me what he's been doing to Scourge. Hmm?"
"Mistress, please!" Jarak uttered again and held his hands up as though to ward her off.
"Mistress?!"
"My Lord! Lady!"
The bones in his left ankle shattered when Eliza deliberately dropped him though she didn't release him from her grasp entirely.
"Theron, slice his consoles and download anything you can find. Doc, have a look to see if you can understand and decipher his research. Jenna, Andronikos, get some empty cargo crates so we can load up these vials and samples," she spoke her orders calmly.
While unsure of the suffering Lord Scourge had experienced, it didn't take a genius to figure out he'd been subjected to various scientific trials. The scars covering his body and his change in appearance hadn't gone unnoticed to her, even in a brief glance. Paler eyes, blackened tendrils, and he'd clearly lost much weight. Every inch of him marked by the torment he'd endured for years.
"My Lord, please," Jarak pleaded once more when Eliza physically grabbed him by the arm next and dragged him toward the examination table.
"Take me with you when you leave and I promise, I will do everything I can to cure your husband! I've already been—"
"Cure him?!" She narrowed her gaze at him and snapped, "Of what? What is it you've done to him?"
"Just kill the wretch," Lord Scourge growled next to her and pushed himself to sit up straight.
For a second time their eyes met but now Eliza cringed inside. She saw no reflection of the love they once shared, not an ounce of sentiment or emotion and his stare was much like the one he'd held when they first met. An empty vessel looking back at her and when she put her hand against his cheek she was reminded of her nightmare—his skin like parchment underneath her fingertips.
She knew exactly what it meant, but not how, and turned her fury back on Jarak. "What the hell have you done?!"
"The Emperor, Arcann! He had a curiosity about immortality and he had me research! It, I, something went wrong and, please! If you spare me, bring me with you, I will tell you everything and I will find a way to stop his body from deteriorating! I was already trying to, check my notes!" the Anomid burst into a ramble of pleas and explanations.
"And you think you'd be any safer with us? After what you've done?!"
There was not enough time to be shocked, this being the last thing she'd expected. Torment sure, questioning, and perhaps even punishment but she never thought anyone would use her husband as a lab rat. That anyone would ever manage to reverse the effects of the cure, to once more subject him to the nightmare he'd lived for centuries.
"Wouldn't it be worth it, to see him healed again?"
A tempting offer but before Eliza stood even a chance of considering her options, another had decided for her.
In the blink of an eye, Lord Scourge had used up what strength he could muster, what little his muscles and bones would allow him and extended an arm to close a fist around Jarak's throat. Not wasting any time by merely squeezing and with an abrupt snapping of his neck, the Anomid dropped dead to the ground.
"Have you lost your mind?!" Eliza cried out and chided. "He was your only chance!"
"There are no more chances for me," he responded in calm. "I've lived a life far too long already and this body will not hold."
"Like hell it will!"
Though he quietly worked to slice Jarak's consoles, Theron kept an ear out for the couple and released a deep sigh when he heard the pain and anger in Eliza's voice. When he too noticed the absence of emotion in Lord Scourge's entire demeanor and he exchanged a look of concern with Doc who pored over the medical records and diaries Jarak had written.
"Scourge!" Eliza clasped his face between both hands, urgent but gentle. "Whatever he's done to you, we'll find a way to reverse it, we'll find a way to help cure you!"
"Leave me! I'm already dead, Sith."
"Sith?!"
Aching palms begged her to smack him, despising the sudden cold with which he spoke. Wishing to slap both sense and emotion back into the man she loved and demand he use her name but she pushed all of it down. It was a battle she'd face and fight later and at least he was alive, for now.
"You're coming home with us whether you like it or not," she told him quite firmly just as Andronikos and Jenna rolled several crates inside.
"Found these, we good to load up and high tail outta here?" asked Andronikos.
"Don't bother." Lord Scourge's tone remained indifferent.
He grabbed both of Eliza's hands and forced them away from his face, rejecting her touch. He couldn't feel it anyway, even if a part of him desperately wanted to and he loathed the lack of sensation. He recognized the anguish in her eyes but he felt none of it himself—he even failed to feel any remorse over his dismissive actions.
"I'm as good as dead, let me go. Get out of here, get your people to safety and make sure not another soul ever sets foot on this planet again."
"No!" Eliza rejected his every word. "You're coming with us, willingly or otherwise and Doc will find a way to… cure, undo, whatever it is that quack did to you!"
"He can't and what do you expect of me? To live my life like this?! A second time?!"
"We've cured you before, we'll do it again."
"You're delusional, Sith. It was always meant to end this way, I wasn't supposed to live this long or have the life we once both dreamed of and cherished."
Eliza's eyes burned fiercely with the tears she refused to spill. Of all the things she had imagined—the sheer horror, the fear of death invading her every thought—this was one outcome she couldn't have predicted. This wasn't the reunion she'd hoped for nor the one she'd dreaded and at this moment, she wasn't sure which version hurt worse—reality or those things she'd been so afraid of.
"And I don't give a fuck what you think or want right now," she hissed through gritted teeth.
Behind Lord Scourge stood Doc, ready to intervene and Eliza gave him a subtle nod. He took the injection needle he'd prepared while they'd been arguing, knowing what he may have to do, and sedated the Sith to silence his protests. To force his cooperation and Lord Scourge rolled his eyes once before he slumped forward into Eliza's arms.
"Grab anything you can and let's go. Theron, do you have the data downloaded?"
"Almost…" he murmured in deep focus until the screen before him blinked a confirmation and he retrieved the data spike. "Got it!"
"Found a direct passage to the elevators, down that tunnel," Andronikos said and thumbed over his shoulder. "Secret door, can't be seen from the other side."
"Good." Eliza nodded and took a second to consider her options. "Theron head back to the ship and prepare for our departure. Doc, Andronikos, get Scourge and take him to the medbay, keep him sedated."
She dug through her backpack and beckoned Jenna over. "We'll set up a few charges down here and toward the elevator, blow this place apart. Whatever might be left here is not worth saving or preserving…"
"On it." Jenna took the charges but also quickly laid a hand on Eliza's. "Are you okay?"
Ruby locks danced around her face with a grace that didn't suit the situation while Eliza shook her head gently. "I can't afford to be anything but okay right now."
"What's uh… wrong, with him?"
"Everything."
Andronikos and Doc took Lord Scourge between the two of them, the tall Sith towering over both their heads and heavy in his subdued state while they carried him toward the exit.
"Not what she'd expected, huh?" muttered Andronikos out of Eliza's earshot.
"Don't think any of us coulda expected this… it's, cruel." Doc's brows furrowed.
"What's the deal, why doesn't he wanna be saved?"
"Scourge was an immortal for over three-hundred years, present from the Sith Emperor. Incapable of feeling anything other than pain and anger, unable to love. He'd lost most of his senses until Eliza cured him years ago."
Doc cast a sideways glance at the Pureblood he carried and sighed. "Whatever they've done to him here, he's… I don't know, it seems worse than before and his body is…"
"Dying."
"Right. Guess he figures his time's up now and he's not worth the trouble."
They caught up to Theron still stood waiting by the elevator but he barely took notice of their presence. Lost in his own thoughts and scolding the wishes he'd made—cursing the insecurities and fears he'd held over finding Lord Scourge and losing Eliza as if those were to blame for the state they'd found the Sith in. As if the universe had granted his wish of keeping the woman he loved to himself but in the most sadistic way possible—by tormenting and punishing another.
"Is it stuck?" asked Doc.
"Dunno." Theron gave a shrug.
Squeaking, rusted wheels rolled in behind them as Eliza and Jenna approached with the two sturdy cargo crates and both women frowned.
"Why are all of you still down here?" asked Eliza.
"Waiting on—" Andronikos began just as the elevator doors hissed open.
With his head bowed and lost in deep thought, Theron was the first to take a step forward. Careless about his surroundings and distracted until a sharp, searing pain suddenly shot through his chest. The smell of burned flesh rose up to his nostrils and a slobber of blood dripped down his chin onto the blade of a roaring, yellow-golden lightsaber.
His eyes sprung wide and his body surrendered to the force of the blow, succumbing to his injuries almost immediately. The blade impaling him was withdrawn and his knees collapsed. His assailant was revealed—a single, amber eye glinting with delight and menacing smirk half concealed by a dark mask—while Theron unceremoniously fell to the ground. His skull smacked onto the cold, hard duracrete while his sight blurred and the last he heard before darkness swallowed him whole were the shrill, harrowing screams of the woman he loved.
