Chapter 2
A student may use any source of emotion to fuel their desire and control of the Force. The most basic of emotions--fear, anger, or hatred--will be the easiest to sustain. As a force-sensitive individual is filled with their passion, as they revel in it, the individual will sense the dark side whisper around them, often described as a fire or wave or wind. As the student pulls on the Force, imposing their will and concentrating on their desired outcome, they must simultaneously center themselves in their passion, allowing the Force to draw upon the energy of the emotion, slowly consuming it. For example, sufficient wells of fury will allow an otherwise mediocre Sith to accomplish extraordinary things.
The beautiful irony is that as Sith, we require just as much discipline of our passions as Jedi do. Instead of learning to be passionless automatons, we aim to develop endless fountains of emotion that will perpetually feed the dark side. Where they suppress, we feed. Where they ignore, we embrace. When they blindly turn away, we delve deeper. They fear their passions. Our passions are our strength.
--The Holocron of Darth Ulba, a treasure of the Korriban Sith Academy
Even knowing that murdering other acolytes was forbidden within the academy, I could barely sleep that night. I'd heard more than one complain about having to share a dormitory with alien scum, and while it wasn't likely that they would all band together to kill me in my bed, the thought lingered, causing me to awaken at each little noise. I did not rest well.
An assistant overseer snapped his fingers at me to summon me as I entered the mess hall the next morning, just as one might call a pet...or a slave. My conditioning since birth had me automatically turning to obey, and when I realized what I'd done, my stomach turned. Spindrall had been right. Humility was the nature of a slave, and I was going to be a Sith.
"What?" I snapped, glaring at him to make clear that I wasn't impressed.
"Overseer Harkun requires your presence, slave," he drawled, eyeing the brand on my forehead. "Get going." When I didn't immediately move, he gestured sharply with one hand. I felt the Force surge, but I couldn't identify what it was doing before it tangled around my ankles, sending me tumbling to the floor in front of dozens of acolytes and apprentices in various stages of training. He and the others laughed, and for one brief instant of blinding fury I wanted to summon my lightning to kill him where he stood, but the rules about murder in the academy had left no room for misinterpretation, and I didn't have his skill with the Force...yet. I stood carefully, cherishing the humiliation in my heart, and went to see what Harkun wanted. He waited for me in his office.
"At Spindrall's recommendation, Lady Zash has requested a special trial for you, which you will no doubt fail," Harkun told me. I could tell he believed that. I scowled. "Go to Inquisitor Zyn in the jail. He will fill you in on the details, and most likely hasten your demise."
"Don't count on it," I replied. "I don't die easily."
"Don't boast, slave," he said. "Get out."
The jail was full of unfortunates. The smell alone made me grateful that I'd missed breakfast. I made my way past rows of small metal and energy cells until I reached Inquisitor Zyn's office. He was an overweight man in the purple robes customary of his rank, and seemed almost jovial, but there was a glint of madness in his eyes that made me tread cautiously.
"Acolyte! You've arrived, and not a moment too soon," he said. "I have just the task for you." He smiled, putting his arm around me. I stiffened a little, but I didn't dare pull away. Prejudice against aliens had mostly protected me from unwanted affection while I was a slave, but the powerful always took what they wanted from those weaker than themselves. It was the Sith way. I braced myself, but Inquisitor Zyn merely gently guided me from his office and down the hall as though he were escorting a great Sith lady. Slaves and Jailors alike pressed themselves against the wall and stepped out of our way through doorways as we passed them.
"Now, Harkun has provided very specific requirements by which I am to judge your performance," he explained. "You were raised a slave but must discard those traits and learn to control others. As such, a few days ago there was what we call an unauthorized murder in the academy," he explained. "A rivalry got out of hand, I believe. Fortunately for us, there was a witness. He shall be your victim."
"Victim, Inquisitor?" I asked.
"I prefer the term subject myself," he said, "but most only understand my work in crass terms. Interrogate him! Make him tell you who committed this crime." He gestured for me to enter a small room. Inside, I could see a human acolyte in a slave collar strapped to a table, just waiting for me. For my torture. I swallowed hard. I could do this. I had to do this. I would do this. To become Sith, I would do anything.
"Will you join me inside, my Lord?" I asked politely.
"No, but have no fear, I shall be listening," he said. "I prefer to cherish every scream. One last thing--no permanent damage. Do not force me to intervene as the last acolyte did." He passed me a device; I recognized it as the control to a slave's collar. I fingered it for a moment, then slipped it in a pocket of my tunic. If I had to, I would use my own lightning first.
"Of course, Inquisitor Zyn."
"Please don't hurt me, I don't know anything!" begged the acolyte as I entered the room. I adjusted the table until he was almost upright and I could look him in the face. He bore the marks of several beatings, but no lightning or saber burns. I smiled at him, hiding my wince at the substantial charring around his neck where the collar had obviously shocked him repeatedly.
"What's your name, acolyte?" I asked. I watched him decide whether to answer or not.
"Alif," he said.
"Very good, Alif," I said. "Let's talk, shall we?"
"Yeah right," he scoffed. "I know what you want, and I'll tell you right now I don't know anything!"
"I certainly hope that's not true," I said. "If that's the case, I can't imagine you will leave this room alive."
"You're not allowed to kill me," he said quickly.
"I'm not," I agreed. "But does that restriction extend to Inquisitor Zyn?" His already pale face went even more bloodless until he almost looked like a Rattataki. I stalked slowly closer.
"Did you enjoy this?" I asked, reaching out to gently touch his face. As I'd suspected, his cheekbone was broken. He flinched away as far as his restraints would let him. "Do you want to be beaten and tortured over and over again, only to die when they deem you useless?"
"Please, I don't know anything," he pleaded. "It was just a stupid boast, I was showing off for the guys. I didn't actually see what happened!"
"There are only a few ways this can end," I said. "You defy me, and the Inquisitor finally gets to break you himself, which he would enjoy very much. Or perhaps the murderer waits for an opportunity and then kills you to protect his secret. Or you can let me help you."
"You can't help me!" Alif laughed, but it was a hysterical sound. "You can't protect me! Even if I did know something, I'd be dead or worse. Why don't you just torture me and get it over with?"
"Is that really what you want?" I asked, raising one hand slowly. He tensed, which I could've told him was the worst thing he could do. Steeling myself, I allowed Force lightning to pool in my fingers for a moment before sending it in one sharp blast into his chest. Alif screamed, arching off the table for a moment before slumping weakly in his bonds. I didn't allow the tiniest sign of my unease to show on my face.
"That wasn't even a tenth of what I can do, Alif," I said. He was actually crying, and the tears left little trails in the dried blood on his face. "Do you really want me to torture you?"
"Please, don't do that again," he begged. "I'll do anything..."
"I prefer methods other than torture myself," I said. "Tell me what happened. I can't help you if you won't trust me."
"I can't! He'll kill me if I tell."
"And you think he trusts you to keep his secret?" I laughed. "You can expose him! If I were him, I'd already be planning your death. How long do you think he'll wait?" Those words broke him.
"I'll tell you what I saw, but promise me that the murderer will be punished, that he won't come to kill me," Alif blurted.
"I will do everything in my power to protect you," I said, meeting his gaze squarely.
"An apprentice named Esorr Kayin," he said quietly. "I saw him murder his victim outside the library on the second floor." The Force sang the truth in his words.
"Thank you, Alif," I said, feeling triumph thunder through my veins. Other acolytes had failed to gain the information, but I was better, stronger, smarter. I had succeeded.
"Listen, Kayin's master is incredibly powerful--he won't let him be punished! Kayin WILL kill me." Alif wept.
"You let me worry about that," I said. "You worry about the debt you now owe me for protecting you and for keeping your secret."
"Maybe if I'm lucky Kayin will put me out quickly." He seemed spent, resigned.
"Have a little faith in me, Alif," I scolded gently. I gently brushed his hair out of his eyes and leaned in close. "You're no use to me dead."
"I hope you know what you're doing," he moaned.
"Esorr Kayin," mused Inquisitor Zyn as I joined him in the hallway. "I know the name. It's a pity. But anyway, your trial here is done. Return to Harkun. I shall send him my report."
"Why is it a pity?" I asked instead.
"Well, Kayin's master is a Dark Council member," said the man as though it explained everything. "The murdered apprentice's master could lodge a formal complaint I suppose, but nothing will come of it."
"So then what will happen to Alif?" I asked.
"Concern for things that are not your business is a weakness that will get you killed," he scolded me. "I suggest you eliminate this undesirable trait as quickly as possible."
"There has to be something you can do!" I replied, deciding to try some mild flattery. "You have great influence here, Inquisitor Zyn. Your word carries weight, and Alif doesn't stand a chance without your help!"
"And what would you suggest?" he asked wryly. "I don't have the power to challenge a dark council member, and neither do you."
"Surely you won't just let yourself be bullied?" I protested, appealing to his indignation. "You're no coward--Kayin doesn't deserve to get away with this."
"I am a living Sith, and I prefer to remain that way," he said firmly. "Only a fool would oppose Kayin's master."
"But you don't have to oppose him--just Kayin himself," I said. "Alif's going to need protection if he stays here. Couldn't you get some guards or something?"
"You're persistent, aren't you?" Inquisitor Zyn didn't seem upset; if anything, he was puzzled by my efforts to help Alif. Even so, I paid close attention to the way I felt. My ability to read situations had served me well as a slave, and the stakes were only higher now. If the Sith lord grew truly angry or irritated, I wanted to know.
"I know that a lot of people would happily see me dead, and I can't imagine that will change once I become Lady Zash's apprentice," I admitted. "Alif would owe me a debt for helping him. I could use a few favors in the future."
"Ah," he said slowly, and I felt his understanding and amusement. "Rarely do I see Sith games played at this early stage of training. What would you have me do?"
"Can you send Alif away from the academy?" I asked. "He's practically as good as dead here."
"Getting him off-planet is no simple matter...but there is a Darth on Dromund Kaas who owes me a favor," Inquisitor Zyn mused. "I'll make sure he takes this fool as an apprentice. What happens then will be up to him. And to you, I suppose, if you intend to keep the ridiculous promises you made to him."
"I intend to try," I said.
"I presume you'll want to tell the poor wretch yourself?" he said knowingly.
"With your permission," I said.
"Go right ahead, don't mind me," he said. I got the impression that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. He followed me back to the interrogation room and lingered just out of sight.
"Alif," I said. His head, which he'd been resting dejectedly on his chest, snapped up to look at me. "I've arranged with Inquisitor Zyn for you to be sent to Dromund Kaas. There's a Darth there who will take you as his apprentice."
"What?" he said.
"You're going to be smuggled off Korriban and sent to the capital of the Empire," I said. "You're being given a chance to live."
"Thank you," he breathed. I nearly rolled my eyes when I realized he was crying again. "Thank you."
"You owe me now, Alif," I said. "The Inquisitor would have served you to Essor Kayin on a platter if I hadn't spoken up. I saved your life, and I will keep your secret, but in return, you owe me a debt."
"Anything," he said fervently. "You saved me."
"Remember this moment," I said. "I advocated for you, and I take care of my own. "
"As strange as it sounds, I appreciate that," he said as I left him a second time.
"You have a most unusual approach, acolyte," Inquisitor Zyn said. "Watch it doesn't get you into trouble."
"Thank you, Inquisitor," I said with a bow. Mindful of my misstep at breakfast, I was careful to keep it respectful but much more shallow than a slave's obeisance. The man actually laughed.
"It has been most entertaining watching you work, acolyte," he said. "Truly, I wish you the best of luck in your remaining trials."