Chapter Eight: Drifters

Lord Syrosk exited the lecture hall with a furious haste, his coat trailing heavily behind him as he bustled through the Academy. He stormed through the halls toward his residence in the upper levels, a vile hatred brewing within him. Slipping past the threshold of his cramped quarters, the alien could no longer contain himself.

"Foolish. He's right. I've been focusing too much on my students. Should have never confronting him physically. Should have just revealed his lies. No! No. Even if they believed me, it'd mean their deaths. A person's word is only as good as his standing in the Empire. He remains above me. Even more so now."

Syrosk let out a low growl.

"How could I have played into his wants again? All that I have done, all that I have achieved has been due to preparation, and I threw it all away because of my anger. My rage. My undying hate. I helped him. And I couldn't see it coming. Damn! I had forgotten his strength. I had forgotten. Too focused. Too focused on the students. The acolytes. They are progressing. But is it fast enough? I can't deviate. Not now. I've come too far. Sacrificed too much. They'll fulfill their part. They must. Tash has made his show. A display that went better than even he could have imagined. He's sure of himself. Of his plans. Perhaps… too sure."

The pacing and stomping Sith Lord suddenly calmed.

"He's made a public display of my inferiority. In his mind, I'm less of a threat. Less worthy of his notice. Yes. Yes! Tash's victory can still be used to my favor. I can accomplish more away from the prying eyes of the Darth and his minions. He'll return to his war invigorated. Less attentive to whatever machinations I may currently partake in. Excellent. This. This I can work with. When the students return. Then. Then we can truly begin."

Jresh led the other seven acolytes across the wasted plains of Korriban in a dedicated trudge. Past the midday mark, the students of Lord Syrosk had resigned themselves to the mindless, numbing task of traversing the lands between them and the Academy. The orange scenescape stretched out before their eyes before it would inevitable end at the beginning of some jagged protrusion or darkened fissure.

"Are we still sure you're going the right way?" Isorr begrudgingly asked of the group's shepherd.

"That depends. Are you asking if we're sure, or I'm sure?" Jresh stoically replied. "Because I've no insight as to your thought processes."

Isorr released a low, drawn-out grumble. "Are you deflecting the question because you are lost?"

Jresh maintained his forward march unabated. "If I answered no, you'd still have no way of knowing if I was lost or not. After accounting for straight up lies, I could still say no if I was deflecting for a number of other reasons."

"I'm sorry, I thought I was talking to Jresh, but apparently Lorrik has grown big and red in the last few hours," Isorr muttered.

"Even on a free day back at the Academy I could challenge my body and mind more than I can on a simple walk across the blasted landscape," Jresh admitted. "Malnutrition. Simplistic movements. Lack of structure. Our bodies will likely be in a detrimental state upon our return to the Academy. I'm trying to stall the degradation in any way I can."

"With catty remarks?"

"Any petulance gleaned from my words is merely imagined," Jresh replied. "I haven't the time nor energy to devote to whatever vitriol you feel myself capable of generating. I speak truths. Facts. Logics. Severed from emotion. Feelings are reserved for matter of far greater significance, not banters in the middle of nowhere."

"You realize you've passed the threshold of disinterest so far that you've looped back straight into caring far too much."

"Good to see you picked up on it," Jresh bluntly stated. "I was worried the passive-aggressiveness would go over your head. Sith usually require things to be so overt."

"I think the heat might be getting to you," Isorr admitted. "Or perhaps the tuk'ata meat."

"I'm doing just fine. I simply prefer to be stationary when greeted with long periods of silence. While in motion, my mind does require some form of stimulation," Jresh stated. The other acolytes continued to follow a short distance beyond the two front men, looking upon them with curiosity.

"I never thought I'd see them talking," Arlia spoke up.

"To be honest, me neither," Lorrik admitted, walking adjacent to her.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't think Isorr will ever stop hating Jresh," Arlia stated.

"Once again, me neither. Then again, I don't think Jresh would approve if Isorr became a friend," Lorrik said with a chuckle. "There's something inside him, something that desires conflict. Strife. Antagonism. He wants to be challenged in all ways. That's how he thinks he'll become better. Stronger. And it's something I can't wholly provide."

"I don't know. You two had a rather remarkable duel," Arlia admitted. "Both parties holding their own, making a good show."

"There's an inherent mental aspect when you duel someone. An ethereal connection. 'No two duels are exactly alike', that sort of thing." Lorrik explained. "I can't replicate the disdain, the hatred, the abhorrence that can fuel a proper conflict. He's patient. Understanding. Open-minded. But still a warrior at heart. One with aspirations. And I intend to see them fulfilled."

"You truly care about him?" Arlia asked.

"I do," Lorrik admitted. "I wouldn't be where I am without him."

"You understand the risk in such strong relationships."

"I do," Lorrik repeated. "But I honestly can't say I'd be in a better place without his companionship. Sith doctrines tell us not to trust, not to make friends, not to fall in love, because it makes us weak. But that is fear. And I consider that a much more potent weakness."

Arlia offered a dismissive laugh. "Love? There's something you thought you'd never see in the Academy. Sure there were relationships. Flings amongst the lesser students. But it was always impersonal. Selfish. Short lasting. But I suppose now more than ever anything is possible."

"If you ever need confirmation, you can just look to Ryloh and Kar'ai," Lorrik stated.

"Is that so?" Arlia offered with a grin as she turned to the rear of the pack.

Between them and the beastly pair that took up the rear of the group, the Twi'lek and Rattataki walked side by side. They shared not words, nor contact, but there was a connection between the two. Something that could not be seen nor measured, but a unity that perplexed Arlia to a positive degree.

The acolytes pressed forward, eager to put as much distance forward as possible by day. The students had grown confident. There was a cohesiveness within them. A combined strength. They planned to walk. And walk they did. The acolytes covered kilometer after kilometer of ground with no interruptions, no hazardous conditions, and no inhibitors. Their path was bright, and they had no intention of breaking away from it.

But there was only so much light to the day, long as it seemed to the travelers. Day turned to dusk, which turned to night. The acolytes' eyes adjusted, granting them sight within the darkness. The acolytes' hearts shifted as well. Spurred on from their victory against the tuk'ata pack, they pressed on unafraid. The students stalked the planes, unaided by torchlight nor flame. Midnight came and went, with the acolytes eventually reaching the end of their energetic reserves. Gazing up into the night sky, their thoughts momentarily drifted from the harshness that surrounded them. The cool breeze offered them respite from the usual heat. The starry sky offered them respite from the usual barren jaggedness that stretched around them.

Eventually, the group happened upon a suitable resting spot against a boulder formation. The acolytes carefully partook in their water reserves. The ration holders generously offered a small division of their bounty to those who went without. The thankfulness quickly turned to momentary regret as they partook in the horrendous substance. The materials managed to offend the discerning tongue of Lorrik, the otherwise unwavering Jresh, and the meat-loving Nesk. Vurt ate his piece with no outward display of emotion, merely the contemplative visage of someone in deep regret of his actions.

With rest, came slumber. The acolytes drifted to sleep under the cover of darkness. No awakenings. No nightmares. They had found a peace worth preserving. Worth succumbing to. For six hours they rested, unconsciously preparing for the next morning. The acolytes eventually came to at their own paces, most welcoming the new day before the sun had ascended beyond the jagged peaks. The students arose, ready to tackle the trek ahead of them.

The tale of their journey thus far could be readily gleamed from their appearance. Their robes were stained with the constant attention of the dust and dirt that perpetually surrounded them. The various seams and trimmings of cloth were beginning to show their wear, stretches, scrapes, and contortions revealing themselves upon areas that had directly offered their touch to the Korriban landscape.

The students set out under the sanctum of the early morning. Jresh took the lead to no objections. The Pureblood guided the acolytes across more and more plains, intent on delivering them all closer to the Academy with each passing moment. That intention hit a snag a couple of hours into that day's journey. The eight acolytes found themselves gazing upon a ravenous stretch of land in the midst of their path. Treacherous pits beset by craggy ridges. The students themselves stood at the edge of a precipitous canyon that descended into utter darkness. They faced perilous climbs and disastrous falls whether they decided upon a path of ascending over the various mountains that bridged the gap on either side, or descending into mysterious depths below and raising themselves upon the opposite face.

"We've certainly reached a predicament," Jresh stoically admitted.