Chapter 6

The stark light of the Korriban sun clawed its way through the slitted windows, drawing sharp lines across the tile floor. The room was sparse, the quarters meant for a slave, but Morda found the privacy perfect for someone who simply wanted to disappear for a while. Lord Morella had expressed disdain at Morda's choice in living arrangement, repeatedly suggesting that she'd be better off in the main manor of the estate, where she and the baby could enjoy the luxuries she deserved. Morda explained to her mother that she didn't want any word of her existence – or the baby's – getting out. Morella thought the household guards would be sufficient to protect her, but Morda saw no need to take that chance. Her father had come to visit her a few times, grunting noncommittally at her peasant surroundings, but he did not pester her about her decision.

Outside the slave's cottage, Morda could step onto a tiny stoop and catch a glimpse beyond the high rock walls of the compound of the endless red dunes and rocky fields behind her family's estate. In the other direction, through the carefully tended foliage of her family's gardens, Morda could see the rooftop of the manor where she had grown up, all harsh, straight lines and angles. From here, the true beauty of the house was hidden, but Morda knew that niches along the walls displayed small carved statues of Sith and fearsome renditions of creatures spawned from ancient dark alchemistic arts. Intricate patterned tiles decorated the walkways, and even more dramatic ones could be found on the high, open ceilings inside. Morda had been tempted, sorely so at times, to step inside the manor, but she had refrained from showing her face all these months, not even trusting the servants to keep quiet.

There were a few that knew of her presence. Vette of course, the family groundskeeper, and one of the more trusted house slaves. Morda didn't know what she would have done without Vette. The girl had taken care of her and kept her company, especially during those last few tiresome months when Morda felt bloated and awkward. She hated feeling so helpless, but Vette helped with the simple tasks she could no longer perform, like putting on her shoes in the mornings. Her constant chatter kept Morda's mind off of the dreadful boredom that set in as the baby's birth neared. Morda discovered that she knew little about her personal slave, and found herself increasingly curious about Vette's family and life before being captured. Vette had many amusing tales of her life living among a pirate crew, or of her days as a treasure-hunter, and while she was reticent at first, she eventually began to share her stories with Morda. Morda had never laughed so hard until she heard Vette's impression of a sleezy Rhodian her crew once swindled, and she quite enjoyed the stories that featured Vette's frequent captures and subsequent escapes. Sometimes Vette would grow sad and her voice would trail off, breaking the spell. Only then was Morda reminded that they weren't two friends sharing memories, but a master and slave, and things could never be truly at ease between them.

Vette had been at her side all through her labor and birth, hovering over her and holding her hand. She in fact had been the first sentient being to hold baby Mordius, taking him from the delivery droid's hands and placing him against Morda's chest. Even Lord Morella had missed the final moments when Morda's baby came into the world, but Vette had been there, shrieking with joy and squealing over the baby's tiny toes and bunched fists.

Mordius was perfect. When Morda first looked upon his scrunched red face, he blinked back at her with alert orange eyes and promptly squeezed his arm out of the bunting, freeing his fist and shoving as many knuckles as possible into his mouth. Morda was overjoyed to see that he was a Pureblood, with strong features and beautiful unmarred skin a shade slightly lighter than hers.

"He looks like you," Vette said. "He has your eyebrows."

He also had strong striations across his cheekbones and a wild patch of straight, reddish hair that feathered off his head in a wispy stripe down the center of his skull. Morda could see Pierce in him as well. He had Pierce's square, jutting jaw and strong nose. He was a healthy child, and he gained weight quickly, until rolls of fat covered his arms and legs, creating little creases along even his wrists and ankles. Morda's parents were ecstatic, and within days of his birth Lord Morella began asking when she could throw the announcement party. It had caused an argument between them when Morda had not only refused, but reminded her that the child's existence needed to remain a secret – at least for now. At least until she confronted Baras.

Adjusting to caring for a newborn was not easy, but Morda had been happy. She didn't suspect that anything was wrong until Mordius was about three months old. She had started thinking about reinstating her crew and leaving Mordius to her family's care for a time. She could come back and visit him frequently. She had already envisioned a prosperous future for her son; growing up among the gardens of the estate with a household of slaves to care for him; Force training as soon as he was old enough to begin wielding his power; and of course he would join the proud family history of Sith by enrolling at the Academy once he had shown readiness to compete with his peers.

It started as an uneasy feeling of wrongness, like an off note among a perfect chorus. Or maybe it was more accurate to say that it was like a song with beautiful accompaniment but a missing melody. Morda stared at her infant son, searching for a spark of power, even a tiny immature kernel that would sprout in time. What began as a vague discomfort grew into a nagging fear, and eventually a full-blown obsession. Was her son a Force-blind? Not all children manifested their power at a young age, most in fact took time to really show the signs, but Morda had always believed that potential greatness still shone through like a sun through a shutter, with bits of brightness leaking out to catch an eye. Sometimes, when she reached out to her son she felt a tiny ray of hope, like a pinprick of light was there, just beyond her sight, but most times she felt nothing.

How could fate play such a cruel joke? Sith Purebloods were the most respected and renowned of the ancient Force-using races. Some went as far as to say that they were the dark side incarnate, a perfect organic vessel of dark side Force power. To be a Pureblood and not Force-sensitive was to be an aberration, a mistake of the bloodline. If Morda's son had had fully human features, she would have been disappointed but not devastated. Children crossed from human and Pureblood parents would sometimes not inherit the luck of their superior parent's biology, but a Force-blind human child could still find a respectable position within the military. A Pureblood child though faced a lifetime of ridicule and disparagement.

He will simply have to be a soldier, she told herself, like his father. If his healthy growth rate was any indication, he would be tall and broad-shouldered like Pierce. She would have to raise him to have a thick skin and to be able to defend himself well with strength of arms instead of the Force. It could be done. Still, she worried about him, day after day, wondering, hoping really, that she was wrong.

One day, she decided that she could not keep wondering any longer. She needed to know.

"Are you ready, my lord?" Vette slung the provisions bag over her shoulder and looked expectantly at Morda. Morda uncurled her legs from the bed and carefully tucked the baby in a carrier.

"I'm ready," she said. "Better leave before it starts getting light."

She left a note for the house slave to give to her parents, informing them that she had business and that she would return in a few days. They would question her disappearance, but she wasn't ready to admit to them her fears. She couldn't just go to anyone about such a delicate matter. Besides the fact that she was still concealing her identity, she also did not want to bring disgrace to her family. Word would get out if she brought the child to be tested anywhere on Korriban. So a bit of traveling was in order. I'll know soon enough, she thought.

00o00

Morda fastened the straps of the baby sling around Vette's shoulders and adjusted the height so that Mordius's face could be easily hidden within the folds of Vette's jacket. She didn't want it to look like she was hiding something, only like Vette was carrying a sleeping child that she didn't want disturbed. Still, if Mordius awoke and squirmed or turned his head, his red skin would probably be visible to a close observer. They had to take an additional precaution.

"The collar has to go on now, Vette," Morda said. She was surprised herself at the apologetic tone in her voice. They hadn't been out in public for a long time, so the old shock collar had gotten no use for that duration, but it wouldn't do for a Twi'lek to be seen alone on Nar Shadaa carrying a Pureblood child. The collar would mark Vette as a slave on an errand for her master, a nanny perhaps, and the disparity would not cause suspicion.

"I know," Vette said. "Just do it."

Morda snapped the collar on. She could not go herself and see this fallen Jedi guru. The taint of shame was too great, and she also feared recognition.

"Don't let him cheat you." Morda handed Vette a credit stick. "There's five thousand on here. He'll see that you work for a Sith lord, but if he tries to give you the run around, tell him I'll have his head. I don't have any problem showing my face to a dead Jedi."

"Right-O." Vette put her arms protectively around Mordius. She had shown nothing but kindness towards the baby, and Morda trusted her. Still, it pained her to see Vette turn and walk away. Mordius's chubby limbs peeked from the sling, bouncing slightly with Vette's steps, until Vette entered the exiled Jedi's dingy shop and was no longer visible.

Morda paced outside next to a bench. What would her parents think? Morda couldn't recall any ancestor in their recent history who had not been adept in the Force. Her mother would feel humiliated and rescind the offer of a birth announcement party. Her father would give her a lecture about how it wasn't her fault (probably trying harder to convince himself than her) and then offer to pay for the child to attend a boarding school as soon as he was old enough. The offer would sound generous, but really it would just be another way to disassociate Mordius from the family name. Even if Mordius couldn't touch the Force, he could still carry on the bloodline…and perhaps the next generation would fare better.

Morda thought of the feel of Mordius's soft silky hair against her lips when she kissed him, or the joy she had felt when he had first smiled at her, his whole body jittering with excitement. She had brought him into this world, and it was her job to see that he had the best life possible. She ached to do right by him.

She spotted Vette coming back out the door of the shop and her heart pinched in her chest. She waited, watching as Vette slowly crossed the plaza towards her, trying to discern the expression on her features. When Vette got close enough she smiled at Morda, but it was a sad smile.

"What happened?" Morda vaguely realized that she was clenching and unclenching her fist in the fabric of her robes.

"He's not Force-blind," Vette said. "But the Jedi thinks he may only be able to manipulate the Force sporadically and with little effect. His sensitivity is very low." Vette stared at Morda, and the pity in her eyes made Morda want to throttle her. "I'm sorry my lord."

Morda let out a growl that quickly grew into a yell. She snapped out her arm and sent a jolt of power at the nearest object, which happened to be a holotree. Smoke broke out from the base, and a spray of yellow sparks soon followed. The holo image went black.

The baby twitched in the sling and let out a frightened wail. Vette bounced him up and down trying to comfort him.

"My lord, at least he's not totally blind though, right?"

"No!" Morda spun on her, annoyed with the girl's stupidity. "This is far worse. He'll be sent to Korriban where he'll last barely a day! It's a death sentence. There's nowhere in the Empire where he'd be able to hide."

She stalked off, and Vette trailed behind, still shushing Mordius. She couldn't allow him to die in such an inglorious way. At that moment, she didn't care about the Academy's policy of culling the weak from the strong, or about what was for the good of the Empire. Mordius was her son, her flesh and blood. She couldn't willingly condemn him to die. Where would he be safe? How long could she hide him? It would be a futile effort and she couldn't protect him forever. Everywhere he went his red skin and Pureblood features would mark him as Sith, and as such he would be assumed to have Force-sensitivity. He would be asked to prove himself again and again. It was only a matter of time before some disgusted Sith just killed him outright, if the Academy didn't get to him first. He would be lucky if he made it into adulthood at all.

She could leave, she thought. She could run away, perhaps to some remote star system. As soon as the idea entered her head she knew how impractical it was. She would be throwing her life away, and what kind of life would either of them get in return? A life in hiding, without recognition and goals to strive for would cause her to wither and die. It was no life for a Sith, or for either of them.

"You should tell Pierce what's going on. He doesn't even know he's a father," Vette said from behind.

Morda stopped. "What good would that do?"

Vette shrugged. "I dunno. Don't you think he deserves to know?"

"It's not going to change anything."

"Just…call him, will you? I'll do it if you want."

Morda turned her back and kept walking. "Fine. Tell him to come home to Korriban. I'll meet him there."

00o00

"My lord," said the house slave, "your guest is here for you. Should I bring him here?"

"Admit him."

A few moments later, the door opened and Pierce stepped in, his heavy boots echoing around the spare walls. The small room felt even smaller with him in it, and he had to duck his head to get beyond the door's threshold. His eyes flitted about the perimeter of the room, alighting finally on the cradle in the corner, where Mordius slept protected by energy walls.

Pierce cleared his throat. "M'lord."

"It's been a long time Lieutenant."

"We…we didn't know what to think m'lord. We began to wonder…"

"You thought I'd abandoned you?"

"Just didn't know where you'd gone or when you'd be back is all. Then Vette called me…" He cast a furtive glance in the baby's direction. There was an awkward silence before he filled it again. "Brought something." He fished in his pocket and pulled out a brightly colored box, then stepped forward and thrust it in Morda's direction. "For the little guy."

Morda took it. Splashed across the box in bright block letters was the phrase, "Imperial Star Destroyer" and then in smaller type, "collect the whole armada!" Printed on the front was a picture of a toy spaceship, obviously meant for a much older child.

"Thank you, Pierce."

He shrugged.

"Come hold your son." Morda rose and shut off the crib's protective barrier. Mordius stretched and made a cooing noise when she picked him up, but otherwise did not wake up. "This is Mordius." She held him out and Pierce hesitated, shifting on his feet. Morda looked at him expectantly and he took the baby, holding the child out so that his legs dangled awkwardly in the air.

"I don't know about babies, m'lord." He stared at the baby like it was k'lor'slug. Mordius's face scrunched up and he showed off a mouthful of empty gums. For a moment there was no sound, and then he began to sputter and howl, throwing out his arms and kicking his legs. Pierce's eyes flew to Morda with alarm.

"I don't think he likes me."

"Pierce, you lug, you don't a hold a baby like that!" Vette came through the door and gave Pierce a glare. "You scared him."

Pierce raised an eyebrow in Morda's direction. "See?" He had to raise his voice to be heard above the baby's shrieking cries. "Uh, maybe you should take him back."

Morda let out a huff and came and took the baby. "Sit down Lieutenant," she directed, "and hold your arms like this." She carefully laid Mordius back in Pierce's awkward grasp. Pierce sat there, stiff and uncomfortable, staring at the child like he was a bomb that might explode at any moment. Vette rolled her eyes and walked out.

When Vette was gone, he cleared his throat and looked up at her. "M'lord, what do you want of me?"

Morda crossed her arms. For once she towered over him. "Nothing. I just wanted you to meet your son for the first and the last time. Then, I will be sending him away for his own protection."

Pierce bristled. "You don't think you or I can protect him?"

"It's not that simple. Mordius cannot manipulate the Force. He will be killed if he stays in Imperial space."

Pierce looked away, deciding to study Mordius's face instead. "Oh," he said. Then, "he's a sturdy one, isn't he? Gonna be strong someday."

"I hope so." For his sake.

Morda suspected that Pierce was relieved that she expected so little of him in his role as a father. Rules and a tightly restrained life of responsibility would be like chains to such a man. Those months spent at Pierce's side were the most excitement she'd ever had, but looking back, their fun felt reckless and wonton. Risk was required in her job, but she wondered if some of her actions had bordered on stupidity. We stormed a base full of armed troopers, she thought, with nothing to back us up but Pierce's brawn and my lightsabers. Mordius, her beautiful baby, was an awkwardness now between them. Morda liked Pierce, but she couldn't imagine a future with him, nor had she ever intended one.

Their leave-taking was strained and mostly wordless. Morda took Mordius from Pierce's arms and he shuffled his feet, refusing to meet her eyes.

"I will be reassembling the crew soon," Morda told him. "Be ready."

He snapped to attention, eager to assume a role he knew and could identify with. "Look forward to it, m'lord."

"Good. Don't tell anyone about this meeting. I will contact the crew myself when the time is right."

"Understood, m'lord."

Morda watched him go, trying to understand how so much could have changed in less than a year's time.