8. Jedi's Sacrifice
Atton did not pretend to understand how exactly Atris betrayed the Jedi, but he took Quinly's word for it. The worst thing Atris did, as far as he was concerned, is point them to Malachor. He didn't die there once, now he was going to give it another shot. Stupid place. Stupid Kreia. Well, Darth Traya. Whatever. Atton rubbed his forehead. This was no time for daydreaming. It was time to fly like he'd never flown before. Getting off Peragus was a wild ride, but this was worse. At Peragus, they didn't have to swagger their way through an entire fleet of ghost ships. They were like a locust, swarming around the heart of darkness, a heavy dark core littered with twisted metal. There is no flat stretch anywhere. Atton closed his eyes and pushed the throttle forward to engage the landing thrusters. If Force guided them all along, it will let them land.
Force, yeah. Not that great for flying.
On balance, Atton didn't enjoy being knocked out. His head hurt, his back hurt, and it was dreadfully cold. He sat up and called: "Quinly?" There was no reply. He tried to stand up, and slipped down towards the pilot's chair. The ship was lodged sideways. Climbing through the doors, he found Visas in the hall. Her dark mouth was a touch slack, so he figured she was dazed. It was darn hard to tell, with the veil and all, though it was probably better than blind eyes. He did not want to see that again. It was worse by some reason than other mutilations and mutations.
Disciple started coughing behind him, and crawled out of the bay. "Quinly?" he asked hoarsely addressing himself to the floor. Atton wished the pretty boy would throw up.
"Hello-ooo?!" the sing-song voice was annoyingly alert. And that's exactly what Mira looked bursting into the mess with a huge wookie in tow. The wookie didn't look to be in a thriving health. "Come ON! I've talked my old buddy here to show us through the back doors. Because, you know, Quinly's now going after that crazy, arrogant Darth… well, whatever she is. Unless you want to leave the whole thing to her?"
Disciple jumped up to his feet, and wobbled precariously. The Wookie howled. Atton offered Visas a hand. Visas knocked it aside and rose sinuously. Well, if she could do it all along, why did she continue hugging the floor like that?
They made a quick and quiet progress through the graveyard world. Strange creatures lurked in the shadows. Strange shadows danced through the noxious fumes. The noxious fumes were, well, noxious. They kept their breath under control, but the stink of death permeated it all. Finally, they came upon a small service door cut into the rock. They would have missed it, if the Wookie did not indicate it. Then he wandered away into the shadows cackling madly. "Where did he go?" Atton asked Mira.
"To die, I'm guessing," Mira shrugged, "he is crazy, you know."
"As opposite to us," Atton grumbled and sliced the lock. "After you…" they filed in, and found themselves on a rock shelf overlooking a circular room, with a floor of glowing red. Kreia, a.k.a Darth Traya slouched in the middle, looking like the oldest thing in the existence. Even from the shelf Atton could feel her contempt for pretty much the whole world.
"We can blast her to smithereens," Mira said lifting the rocket launcher to her shoulder.
Disciple put his hand on it. "It will not even sting, Mira. The Force is the only weapon we can wield against her."
Mira pursed her lips, but Visas spoke up first: "He is not wrong. We must confront Darth Traya and we must stand united. United." She faced Atton and Disciple in turn. What does she expect us to do? Shake hands?
Atton shrugged: "All together then." That seemed to satisfy Visas. She simply turned and made a leap for Darth Traya. Disciple and Mira followed, but Atton hesitated a moment. It didn't feel right.
Darth Traya turned toward Visas: "A blind one—" and Visas crumpled…. Visas, who was born into the Force and walked both sides with ease!
"We made a mistake," Atton thought desperately, "we should have waited—"
It was too late. Disciple screamed; "She did not come alone," and Traya spat out: "Pawn."
Mira didn't like that one bit. "We'll end you, old woman."
Atton felt the obligation to join in: "And here I come in, saying something suitably heroic." He unsheathed his lightsaber for a better effect, but Darth Traya paid him no heed. She was laughing at Disciple, taunting the man with things he wouldn't do after she's done with him. Mostly, it related to him not getting into bed with Quinly, which was alright with Atton. It was his opening, and he tried to run for Darth Traya, but found himself fastened in place. The witch holds me! Atton struggled, and tried to throw a lightsaber at her. A futile gesture.
Disciple was on the floor, unseeing eyes staring at Atton. Darth Traya was chewing Mira's ear off. It would have been almost funny, this old woman giving them the trashing except it was not. Atton turned around. He could run the other way. So he did, as Mira fell, and as Traya's rustling voice called him a fool. He grated his teeth. He would not give the Sith the satisfaction of illing him.
Find Quinly, find Quinly-
And then a man blocked his way. Literally. In life he must have been huge already, but engorged by the Force, Darth Sion was a towering eight feet of charred skin over raw, red muscle. Atton froze in his tracks.
"And I get the fool," Darth Sion boomed. He looked down at him, and when he said it, when he'd looked at him, Atton had a moment of extreme clarity. Despite the horror, the laughter burst forth from his lips. "Funny, I've just thought the same thing." Oh, Quinly, you are one dangerous woman.
Darth Sion charged roaring, and Atton parried, and parried, and parried till his arm gave out. It was no use. He's come to it too late, and has learned too little. The pain seared, dropping him down. "You are pathetic," Atton muttered feably.
Darth Sion cut him a few more times, to ensure he doesn't die too fast or too painless, and walked out to wait for Quinly. It was hard to think for the pain, but Atton had to focus. How's Quinly going to take so many bonds cut off at once through violence? He didn't think Traya wasted her focus on killing the rest of his company, but he couldn't know for sure. He felt inwards and found the knot… he almost laughed. It was as easy as pulling the string to let a bow untie. One just had to want it. The bond dissolved. Quinly was free from his pain. It was time to go. Pure Pazaak. Why didn't Bao-Dur do it?
Atton turned his mind to the silvery wave that he'd been pushing beyond his field of sight until now. It looked pretty. Then the steps echoed, sped up, and he forced himself to open his eyes. Quinly kneeled, and put her hand out efficiently.
When they died, there was always the last burst of strength, the might of the dying, he remembered. He was so tired, but he summoned it to push her hand away. "No use," he croaked. "Listen. Sion, he's like me, like Disciple. Don't know how. Or when. Will be harder for him to kill you. Use it." He thought about telling her that love without pain, that loving everyone equally was the ultimate nonsense, but his last strength was used up. She'd know in time.
Atton could not see her through the glow of the Force in his eyes. But he waited until he could hear her receding steps no more. The shimmering wave closed over him and dragged him into the very depth of the light.