Farschi's sun glowed like a dying ember. In the east, the darkness was rising.
Revan crouched in the shadow of a decrepit toolshed, observing the four hooded figures approaching across the fields. At a gesture, waves of grass separated on either side of the figures as though they were parting a golden sea. They formed a black line moving steadily towards House Grouping Csalpa Far38. Revan fidgeted with his stealth field generator and slowly his coiled rope of a body merged into the long shadows of the dusk.
He pulled the pin of the CryoBan grenade clutched in his fist, drew his arm back and lobbed it at the center of the group. The grenade traced a low arc in the air and hit the ground beside the third Sith. Crystals of glowing blue ice blossomed around the dark figure, but his companions managed to dodge it.
Revan aimed his blaster at the ensnared Sith's head. He fired two shots. A spray of gore spattered the ice, but the headless body didn't fall. It was still frozen in place.
The others charged towards the toolshed, black lightsabers unfurled, kath hounds baying for blood. Checking his stealth field generator, Revan held his breath and willed his heart to slow. He crawled a few meters away from his original position and lay flat to the ground, breathing in the bristling grass and the damp earth. He awaited his next opportunity.
Shira bit at the insides of her cheeks and stared down at the tube of preserved food in front of her. According to the label, the paste tasted just like dricklefruit but contained added essential nutrients and would last longer than twenty Supreme Chancellors. She had read this same label enough times to be able to recite the ingredients list in perfect order.
She wound her silver necklace around her throat, enjoying the embrace of the cold metal chain on her skin. There was a worn spot on the silver coating, the place where the dog-tags had once been. She'd never seen them or read the inscriptions. Atton had thrown them away years ago and just kept the chain. And then one day, he'd given it to her, just pressed it into her hands without a word of explanation. It was the only gift she'd ever received from him. It wasn't krayt pearls and emeralds, but it was the most appropriate present she could imagine under the circumstances. He would never know just how appropriate it was.
She stopped playing with the chain and let it drop back to her chest. If she kept on toying with it, she was going to break it and it was her only souvenir.
Her stomach gave a plaintive whimper. Hunger was becoming her closest companion, her favorite confidante. Her robes were becoming loose and her skin was drawn tightly over her bones. She wasn't thinking clearly.
Fine, she thought, I'll eat it. Have to keep healthy. Have to keep sane.
Reluctantly she unscrewed the cap, squeezed out a mouthful of its contents and took a tentative nibble. The taste was sickly sweet and the texture was gummy, containing little flecks of seeds. She chewed it dutifully and then took another wincing bite for T3's benefit.
"Beemip meet?" T3 said.
Although he was plugged into the navigation console, he kept his head screwed on backwards to supervise her attempts at meals, at awkward dinner-time conversations, at solitary games of pazaak.
"Bip-bip-beeeep?"
Her words came in a jumble, tripping helter-skelter one over the other. "I'm re-fueling, you see? T3, I am. Force, this place is starting to make me go - oh, what's the word he used to use? - 'stir-crazy'. Good word, right? Good word. I'm going stir-crazy."
Shira pushed more blue paste out of the tube, regarding the food with nothing more than a scientific interest. She poked at it and it wobbled slightly.
T3's lights flashed. "Dwoo!"
She took angry bite of the paste and chewed it resentfully. "Happy? This stuff is making my teeth go blue. Eating this swill is enough to make anyone go bonkers. "
Her scowl vanished and her voice turned pleading. "T3, let's dock somewhere. Or better yet, let's land." She waved her arm at the dark void surrounding the ship. "We could use a break from all this damn space."
The Sith trooper stood a few paces away from Revan's concealed form, sniffing the air with flared, red-rimmed nostrils. A smile teetered on the edges of decayed lips and glistened on the tips of jagged teeth. Brandishing a black lightsaber, he opened his mouth to call to his companions but all that came out was a burble of dark blood.
Revan withdrew his saber from the Sith's neck. His body materialized and the hounds were back on his scent.
He sprinted away, the Force and his pursuers pressing behind him. The small one was quick and nimble and the large one was faster than he had thought. They were gaining. He leapt high into the air, covering ground. Lure them as far away from the farmhouse as possible, separate them and dispose of each threat – that was the plan. His right foot touched ground but his left foot slipped in the mud and he fell back into murky water.
An irrigation ditch. A deep one.
The water sloshed around him as he struggled to gain footing in the treacherous sludge. He could hear the small one cackling in the darkness.
Revan disappeared under the dark water of the ditch, controlling his breath. If they wanted him, they would have come into the stew. His bloated corpse wasn't going to bob up to the surface any time soon. Accidents can become advantages. Or at least that's what he always tried to reassure himself. He crept under the filthy water towards the far edge of the ditch. If he was quiet and lucky, he might be able to give them a little surprise.
He waited and listened as the Sith poked at the water, snarling at one another in their strange language. And then silence. He raised his eyes slightly above water level. A black saber slashed at his head, searing his scalp. He ducked under again and the cool water was a relief. Through the filthy water, he could see the small one leering down at him. The black lightsaber hung overhead, ready to spear his body or chop at his head the second he dared to emerge. Blood streamed from fresh gash marks scraped out of the Sith's grey cheeks.
The still water rippled. The small Sith swiped again, but this time Revan had caught the hand wielding the saber. The creature writhed under his grasp, baring blood-stained teeth. Revan drove his dagger into the Sith's abdomen, tearing through the thick robe into sickly, yielding flesh. The Sith made a terrible sound, part shriek, part giggle. He lunged at the Jedi's throat, his teeth aimed at the jugular. Their sharp points scraped over Revan's skin, but he was busy twisting the dagger into the Sith's guts. The insides of the monster's belly spilled into the ditch. Slowly, cautiously, Revan climbed out of the putrid water. The large Sith was gone. Revan knew where. Three down, one to go.
Shira walked over the cracked earth of an unknown moon, still nibbling grudgingly at the repugnant blue paste. She stretched her legs and breathed the heavy air of high gravity, relishing the solidity of everything around her. In the distance, clusters of conical mounds rose from the ground. One of them alone would have been ugly, but en masse, they were almost majestic, like turrets on ancient tower. She walked towards them, her hand poised on her lightsaber just in case. No matter what T3 thought, she hadn't lost it entirely. She wasn't going to go stark staring mad out in darkest reaches of unknown space. Hell, she could have stayed at home and done that.
A clicking noise came from between two mounds. It sounded twice and then she heard feet scurrying over dry ground. Shira withdrew her lightsaber from her belt.
Long antennae twitched over a thorax curved into a diabolical knot. Beady red eyes cut her image into fragments. A humongous insect. A big brown bug. It looked like a kinrath, but less ugly and seemingly…sentient.
It stood a few meters away, its antennae moving slowly as though relaying information. The creature's twiggy arms flailed in the air. It generated a clicking sound from somewhere within the depths of its serrated throat and this time, somehow, she could understand the thoughts if not the words.
Hello, Traveller. Hello, Friend. Hello, Joiner.
She eased her lightsaber back into its holster and all at once it hit her. They were friends. How could she forget such a friendship as this? The air smelled wonderful, as pleasant and homey as the scent of fresh-baked bread wafting from an oven. She felt safe, so very secure and comfortable. The tube of blue paste slipped from her hand and fell onto the dusty ground. She would not need it anymore. Her new friend and all his friends would ensure that she would never hunger again.
The insect skittered away and she followed him. Its antennae moved like curled fingers gesturing her forward, drawing her along the path. He crept into a dark hole at the side of one of the mounds and she plunged in after him.
Inside, there was only beauty. Sparkling white larvae hung from the cave's ceiling like crystal chandeliers. The cave was pleasant and cool and yet the elegant, attenuated forms of her new friends crushed all around her, wending paths through the darkness. Their antennae brushed gently over her face, tickled her neck and traced over the bare skin of her wrists and ankles. They welcomed her home with low melodies, the gentle rhythms of their clicking weaving together into one perfect voice.
Home, the voice said. You have come home. Hello, Traveller. Hello, Friend. Hello, Joiner. You are Us.
She cried for joy. Her tears fell softly upon the cracked earth. It was the Force. No, it was better than the Force. At last, at last, she had come home.
Revan crept through the corridors of the homestead, peering into each open doorway. His stealth field generator was functioning again but the floors were covered with panels of thin reeds that seemed ready to announce his presence at every step. The place was deathly quiet. There were no Sith in sight, but disturbingly there were no Chiss householders either.
Someone's dinner was getting cold on the kitchen table. A cup lay overturned on the floor amidst a puddle of green liquid.
The door ahead of him was slightly ajar but the crack was not wide enough for Revan to see inside unless he pushed it open and alerted onlookers to his position. He hesitated and leaned forward, listening, straining to detect sounds of breathing or quiet shifting in the shadows, but the room was silent.
He armed himself with his lightsaber, activated his energy shield and sucked in a deep breath. There was no use in being subtle now. He kicked open the door.
A black lightsaber stabbed at his chest but the shield repelled the beam. Revan sprang to the side, ready to parry the next attempt. He could already feel his shield weakening around him.
"[I've been waiting for you,]" the Sith leader said in Cheun. His tongue darted out and licked a red fleck from the side of his putty-coloured lips. "[They've been waiting too.]" He gestured to the Chiss homesteaders locked in stasis behind him with an expression akin to glee. "[It was suppertime.]"
The smell of blood was thick in the air. The Sith grinned at him and between the needle-like teeth, Revan saw strings of white gristle and glistening saliva still tinged with red.
"[I slaughtered your friends. They didn't present much difficulty]" Revan said, leveling a blow at the monster's stomach.
The creature parried and aimed a flurry of blows against the energy shield. "[Good. Saves me the trouble of having to do it myself]"
Revan hurled a Force Wave at the Sith that sent his hulking frame toppling backwards onto the floor, but before he could skewer the monster with his 'saber, he felt a terrible blast of heat scorching underneath his skin. He gasped, feeling his arms quiver. He could hear his flesh crackling in the blaze. It took all of his strength and all of his will to maintain his grip upon the lightsaber.
The Sith leapt to his feet, striking at Revan's neck. Without the benefit of an energy shield, Revan knew he would have been singing blood out of an open throat. What was more disturbing was the knowledge his energy shield's power was giving out.
Revan threw a bolt of lightning at the Sith and this time the power hit his opponent full force. The creature's red maw shot open as the volts surged through his body. At that moment, Revan plunged his beam into the Sith's side and cut a broad swathe of black uniform and grey flesh.
The Sith slashed at him again but this time, it was a desperate strike, poorly aimed and poorly defended. Revan cut into the creature's back, shearing away more dark fabric and more burned flesh.
"[You will die,]" the Sith snarled.
"[Yes, one day I will,]" Revan answered. "[But you're going first.]"
He drove his lightsaber into the monster's right shoulder. The blade slid diagonally through the Sith's chest down to his left hip, slicing him in neat, almost triangular halves. The end result reminded Revan of the way Deralian mothers cut sandwiches. The two pieces of ugly Sith writhed for a moment like something caught on a hook. The needle-toothed mouth gnashed and sputtered and then the yellow eyes stared up at the ceiling, the fishy eyes of a corpse.
Revan went to see to the survivors.
Shira slept on the cool floor of the cave, the insects skittering around her in the darkness. Overhead the larvae squirmed in their crystalline sacs, struggling to free themselves from a cold, dreamless slumber. While the first writhed out of their bonds and devoured the sticky shells that once imprisoned them, Shira had a strange dream.
She stood in the dusty heat of the Enclave's training room in her eleven-year-old body, watching Master Kavar and Master Tahet fight in the ring. The other younglings were clustered around her. They squirmed with excitement at the afternoon's spectacle, feeling the slow puff of one another's breath in the thick air, inhaling the spicy tang of sweat and moist skin. Roheim elbowed her side and grinned, pointing at Master Vandar, who appeared to have fallen asleep on his feet. Shira smiled back and dug her own elbow into Roheim's stomach for revenge.
"Ow," Roheim muttered. "Alright, I get the drift."
"Be quiet! You're annoying me!" Mysha's shrill, nasal voice was far louder and more distracting than any of Roheim's antics.
Shira turned back to the demonstration and tried to ignore Roheim's hands pinching at the sides of her waist. If she didn't give him any attention, he'd turn his efforts towards Mysha or one of the other girls.
Tahet's golden beam whirled through the air and clashed against Kavar's green blade. Kavar smiled, leaning forward and pressing his weight against the blade. Strands of blonde hair fell across Tahet's face as she strained to hold her beam steady.
"So…how do you plan to get out of this one, Kavar?"
"With ease," Kavar said. "Watch carefully, class. I'm going to demonstrate the sun djem."
"No, you're not!" Tahet laughed. "I won't let you!"
"You don't have any say in the matter! Now pay attention, everyone. Disarming or destroying your opponent's weapon is the ultimate goal of the Jedi in combat."
Tahet leaped backward, withdrawing from the clench of blades and arms. "I'm not letting you win that easily. You're going to have to work for it"
Shira felt pride swell within her chest and constrict her throat. Tahet's movements were fluid, graceful, her lightsaber drawing glowing paths through the air. One day she would be Tahet's padawan. She wanted it so much that sometimes she made herself sick to the pit of her stomach with wishing.
"Very good," Kavar chuckled. "I can't fault your technique, but perhaps you'll allow me to disarm you of your lightsaber just for the sake of a demonstration? I'm sure the students will all learn from your example of humility."
He parried her attack and unleashed a flurry of quick blows that she ably countered.
Tahet grinned and her blue eyes glinted with mischief. "Why don't you let me disarm you, Kavar? Or are you too proud? I'm sure it would be invaluable for the younglings to see that even the mighty can fall!"
Shira glimpsed a strange figure standing at the doorway. It was a boy around her age, perhaps a little older, his face crossed with shadows and his eyes coals beneath dark hair. He glared at the group and she was sure that he was envious of them. He wasn't a Jedi youngling or a padawan like the rest of the children. She could see that by his clothing. Who had let him in? She wondered if she should protest, but she didn't want the others to think she was a tattletale. Her pale eyes connected with the boy's smouldering ones and suddenly, she was afraid.
Kavar aimed a blow at Tahet's blade, lunging forward in an attempt to throw him off balance.
"I think I've got you!" he said.
She didn't answer. Her body suddenly became very rigid, as though she was dangling from a wire. Her lightsaber slipped from her hands and clattered to the ground.
Kavar stared in horror. "Tahet?"
She coughed, her face turning pink, then red, then purple, veins bulging in her forehead, cords straining at her neck. Her hands reached up towards her slender throat, clutching at something that no one else could see, grasping and grappling but never managing to dislodge the power that held her in its grip.
"Master Kavar! Let her go! Let her go!" The younglings screamed.
"Tahet!" Shira shouted. "Tahet!"
Master Vandar started awake at the shrill cries. "What? Kavar, what's going on here?"
"It's not me. I would never!" Kavar said. "It's – it's – I don't know what."
Tahet choked, tears trickling down her cheeks as though they were being squeezed out. Suddenly something seemed to release and she dropped to the floor, sobbing out deep breaths. "Oh, oh, oh, ahahah, oh, oh."
Along the papery skin of Tahet's throat, there appeared two marks the colour of wine stains, two marks in the shape of strangling hands.
"It..wasn't...Kavar," she gasped.
"What was it?" one of the youngling cried.
Tahet's narrow lips stretched into an enigmatic smile.
A tear trickled down her cheek and dripped from her chin. She drew a finger over her mouth as though to bar the gate and keep the answer in.
Shira turned towards the doorway and saw the strange boy dart away into the shadowed corridor. She bit the inside of her cheeks and didn't say a word.
Shira woke up with a jolt, feeling something moist, soft and sticky pressed against her inner arm. It was a white hatchling squirming over her, its gelatinous body slow and clumsy. She gasped and scanned the cave with wild eyes. Insects everywhere, milling around, stuffing the pincer jaws of their greedy young, jousting with spindly limbs, their wheedling voices meshing into a terrible mantra:
You are Us. Welcome Home. You are Us. Welcome. Home.
She scrabbled to her feet. Her legs trembled underneath her body. She felt like something that had just been born, shaking, feeble, terribly alive. The insects reached for her with their many arms, the hive mind still buzzing around her, but she stumbled free and ran for the light.
Atton jolted awake with such a start that he almost toppled out of the pilot's seat. While he was sleeping, he'd managed to wind himself into a variety of human knot, his neck twisted to one side, his torso contorted, his arms bent at sharp angles and his legs crossed on top of the console.
"[Friendly Greeting:] Good morning, Meatbag. I trust you have enjoyed a restful night's sleep, full of inspiring scenes of violence."
"Shut up, HK."
HK shuffled away, muttering under his breath like an old man.
"[Statement:] Very well. I do not ask for social niceties. All I desire is to be of service, primarily by blasting organics to smithereens. I will merely suggest that a massacre or two might help to improve your unpleasant behavioral protocols."
Atton sat up and rubbed his eyes, watching the colours move and blur under his closed lids. He could still envision the woman's face. He could still hear the sound of her voice, the sound of her choking and worse yet, unbearable sound of her silence.
In the midst of the nightmare, he'd spotted Shira standing in the crowd. She was much younger, just a kid, but her face was unmistakable, watching him with fever-bright eyes that seemed to devour all the light in the room. He'd never imagined that they would know one another and the sudden awareness of it was a noose closing around his neck.
Prisoner 164 wasn't just a number on his list or a body strapped to a metal chair. She had a history. She had a name.
Her name was Tahet.