A/N: I apologize for the delay... I shall begin updating regularly next week after graduation (there are currently 13.5 chapters) and hopefully begin to write again soon. I'm afraid Star Trek captured my attention (Spock 3) but I shan't abandon Star Wars. Also, when I say I dislike comments, I mean I dislike rambling authors (such as what I'm doing now). I absolutely DO like reviews, very very much, and they inspire me to write, usually. I hope not to subject you to long A/N's unnecessarily in the future.
Watch out, perturbing action ahead...
6. Melting Dread
It was raining on Null. It was always raining on Null. To some degree. The drizzle had dissipated, then returned, and was now pounding steadily, saturating Sarin's black robes. Her hood was plastered to her hair which was dripping into her eyes. She felt like a wet Wookie. In the midst of the jungle.
The prickling rain continued, but a lime-colored cloud was headed her way. It was the sinister hue of the storms of basic rain Null hosted that season. Four months on Null had impressed upon her the dangers of such a storm. Sarin ducked under a ridge, back into the tunnel leading from the castle. It was the long way or the weather. Sagging black robes dragged and dripped. Something was off.
Instinctively, Sarin twisted and bashed the kinrath stalking her. Her red saber pierced flesh. It was a matriarch, its swollen belly betraying its poisonous status. Its eight legs twitched. Sarin narrowed her eyes and adopted an offensive Djem So stance. The form had taken months and numerous saber-burns to learn. She hadn't fully mastered it. The giant spiders swarmed.
By the time she had finished the whole tribe, kinrath corpses were strewn everywhere, and she was significantly warmer, sweat and kinrath blood now mingling with the rainwater. She bashed in their eggs, then headed up through the complex of catacombs spanning the cliffy planet. The air turned cooler and her wet robes began to crust with ice. The training hall on the entrance to the castle was nearly empty. The acolytes had bowed and scarpered at her appearance.
"What makes you think you can bleed all over the floor, Jedi?"
Scathing personified. Sarin turned to face the one who'd not fled her presence. It was the dark acolyte who'd greeted her when she'd first arrived on Null four standard months ago, back from some secret mission, cocky and hoarse-voiced as ever.
"What makes you think you're immune?" Sarin sneered through an exaggerated wince of pain.
She was trailing mud and kinrath blood, but the fool didn't know she was uninjured. Her chance to supplant this acolyte and head the academy had come. Other acolytes called him Lieutenant Dread, and whispered rumors of his exploits on distant planets. He was supposedly the son of some high ranking official, Lieutenant to General Sev'rance Tann for the CIS.
"Back from Saleucami, I see? What, was no one interested in negotiating with a bald Wookie? Darth Tyranus shan't be pleased by another failed mission, Lieutenant."
She was skirting dangerous territory. Yellow eyes narrowed beneath his hood.
"My mission is not your concern. But you've far outstayed your welcome here, Jedi. Null can be lethal to a weak, corrupted thing like you, caught out in a storm of basic rain. It would be such a shame to have you bleed to death," he snarled, advancing, "But there'll be little of your corpse left once the rain strips your cells of their membranes."
They were circling each other now, wary as two predators.
"Oh no, not the rain! My poor cellular membranes… Oh, wait, I'm already wet. Then again, I don't envy your corpse once you've reported your botched mission."
"That was the last time you insult me," the acolyte growled.
"I agree," said Sarin, and lunged forward, feinting left and lashing out right. Her first connected solidly with the acolyte's black mask and shattered it, sending him stumbling back. Shards of obsidian had embedded themselves into her knuckles and his grey skin. She let the Dark Side course through her, marveling at the power, and jerked her hand to send Dread flying into the wall, leaving a very satisfying imprint when he slid to the floor.
"Not so cocky now, are ya?" This was easy… she delivered a swift kick to his side and he groaned and rolled backward, unconscious.
Sarin leaned forward, morbidly curious.
Big mistake.
By the time she realized his weakness was feigned, he had knocked her off her feet. Springing up, expecting the glow of a lightsaber, Sarin was caught completely off guard when he landed a brutal uppercut and followed up, inhumanely fast, knocking her down with three bruising punches to her stomach. Sarin rolled painfully to a jarring stop when her head collided with the wall, clutching her ribcage. Then was jolted back to reality with a vicious volley of kicks. It felt rather like being nailed to the metal wall by a very heavy hammer.
"Still begriming the floor?" enquired Dread, boot crushing into Sarin's back. She groaned, muscles seizing and going limp.
"Look your superiors in the eye, Jedi," the acolyte knelt beside Sarin and yanked her up halfway by the hair, drawing his talons sharply across her face and drinking in her pained flinch at the bloody welts. "Don't fret, Jedi, I intend to watch your corpse dissolve in the rain," he hissed. His leering face began to swim in her vision, glowing yellow eyes.
It was lucky he was so rough in handling her, because Sarin regained consciousness as she was being bumped against the jagged tunnel walls, flung carelessly over the acolyte's shoulder, the end of the caves in sight. She could hear the hissing rain as it descended over the jungle which had long ago adapted to the extreme storms, the leaves protected by a filmy, acidic coating. Sarin wriggled. The acolyte stopped and attempted to bash her head into the wall, but Sarin dodged his grasp and kicked out desperately. With brilliant aim. The acolyte tumbled toward the end of the tunnel, doubled over.
"Time to go dancin' in the rain, Dread," Sarin advanced slowly, voice soft, igniting her lightsaber to bathe the tunnels in a crimson glow. She ignored her swimming vision. The acolyte dodged last moment and met her blade with his own fiery saber. Red clashed on red, as both struggled to force the other on the defensive. Dread's shattered mask had imbedded black spikes in grey skin. Sarin's bloodied face was twisted in wrath. The caves flashed and the sabers hummed.
"So Lieutenant, what degenerate species are you?" His Djem So was strong, and Sarin reverted to her favored Makashi for its speed. Feint, dodge, swipe.
"Never encountered the Weequay before, Jedi?" Block, jump, sideswipe.
"Oh, those wrinkled prunes from Hutt space? I see now," their sabers locked. Sarin glared in concentration, sweat beading her forehead, and a boulder flew at the acolyte. He sprung back and splayed out his clawed hand to divert the rockslide.
"I am Dread Bulq, son of Sora Bulq the Head of the Morgukai Shadow army."
"You're the son of that Jedi traitor, most feared of the Dark Acolytes?" wondered Sarin. "Don't make me laugh."
And she jabbed forward, finally forcing Dread Bulq on the defensive. "He likely doesn't know you exist, else he'd kill you. Is that why you leave on your secret missions when Bulq and Sev'rance Tann come here? Hiding from daddy dearest?" Each sentence was punctuated by a vicious swipe, Sarin never letting up on the acolyte. He backed away, propelling boulders and debris at Sarin, who diverted them with the Force.
"No one will know what happened to poor Dread, who left one day and got caught in some weather. I'll be sure to tell your daddy of your heroic demise by a few raindrops." His saber landed centimeters from her arm before hers descended to rid him of both saber and wrist.
Dread took another step back, felt the rain on his robes, jumped as though electrocuted, and snarled. "This isn't over, Jedi!"
But Sarin's lips twisted darkly. "Let's see how soluble Weequays are in basic solution. Lieutenant Melting Dread, anyone?"
She raised up a hand, eyes taking on a sickly yellow-grey tint. It was exhilarating, intoxicating, this newfound power. Her palm sparked and crackled with obsidian and purple energy as she surrendered control to the Dark Side. Her smile curved. Dread's eyes widened.
- - - - - - -
The next day the Lieutenant rose to greet the arriving Trenox, another dark acolyte and Separatist commander due to inform the Lieutenant of strategy. The Lieutenant welcomed him with a bow, yellow-tinged eyes sharp beneath the black cowl.
"We shall need you back at Headquarters on Mustafar," Trenox said without hesitation when the two were situated in a private chamber, sipping the best juma Null had imported a decade earlier. Not very impressive. Trenox's bald head glittered from the rain. He took another drag of his death stick, puffed up a cloud of blue smoke.
"There has been a slight shuffling of positions here," said the Lieutenant softly, "But stability has been restored. How goes the effort on Mustafar?"
"All is proceeding as planned, Lieutenant. Darth Tyranus has called a council there before he leaves to consult the Trade Federation on Geonosis. Someone must be deployed to check on Fett's progress on Kamino, I believe. There is talk of a mysterious mission to the Yavin Sector in search of some Dark weapon to help us decimate the Republic, but the rumors are unconfirmed. Only high Lieutenants and the Generals are being called on. I'd advise you leave now, Lieutenant."
"Very well," said the Lieutenant after a moment's reflection. "You may remain here as long as you do not hinder your assignment. I shall depart immediately. Your promptness has been commendable."
The Lieutenant turned to exit and paused before the large screen on the wall of the chamber, which had begun to blink brightly with a red alert. Trenox turned his watery gaze upward as well.
"Santarine's economic situation is deteriorating rapidly, and the Republic is doing little to preserve the planet's loyalty, while the CIS continues enticing offers of aid," a reporter was saying, wriggling his antennae emphatically. "Senator Llewellyn of Santarine, the youngest member of the Senate in its history, radical reformer and political activist for alien rights, has provided staggering statistics…"
The Lieutenant tuned out the voice and glanced at the image of Senator Llewellyn, the infamous politician. Llewellyn gazed frostily back through dark blue, white-lashed eyes that held a hint of ruthless determination the young Senator was known for. Her hair was several shades tanner than snow, thin, and brushed her shoulders, but it was the set of her frown and eyebrows that marked a powerful presence. Llewellyn was as slim and pale as an Echani and the near-white hair added to the likeness, but her steely blue eyes distinguished her as very much human. There was something compelling about the Senator, and the Lieutenant dragged yellow eyes away forcefully.
Trenox was left downing another juma and getting started on the third bottle. The Lieutenant arched an eyebrow and, once out of earshot, let out a scathing laugh, eyes reverting back to their natural grey.
"Your final test," the Lieutenant had addressed the acolytes prior, "will be to kill the imposter playing ambassador to us. If he shall leave the castle, it will be over your corpses. The one who kills him shall ascend in rank upon my return."
The Sith were ambitious enough for such bait to not question the Lieutenant. The enemy was beginning to crumble from within. And the Lieutenant was not constrained by any one side of the Force.