Chapter Twenty Three: Links
Isorr and Ikton Odrek continued to sit across from one another. The domicile's atmosphere had lost its warmth as the father and son looked to one another with creeping unease.
"What exactly happened… ten years ago?" Isorr asked.
"Don't you already know?" Ikton tersely replied, referencing his son's supposed understanding.
"This isn't about what I know… it's about what you think," Isorr answered, his eyes continuing to lock with his father's. "And I want specifics."
The elder Zabrak held a silent pause as he broke eye contact with his son, staring into the half-full cup of coffee. "I was security chief of this estate, back when it was owned by Lord Norrok. I'd oversee local surveillance, instruct new recruits, deal with security breaches. Menial duties. One day, my day off, I went to Kaas City. I was going to come visit you but… I stepped into the local cantina first. That's when I was approached by someone. Vai Thorel. He introduced me to his master, who offered me a place under him as an apprentice, and said he could get you into the Korriban Academy."
"And you believed the offer genuine?" Isorr begrudgingly asked, swirling the remains of his half-empty cup of coffee.
"Of course I did!" Ikton declared. "He wasn't asking for nothing in return. I was to deliver him this estate, turning over everything and everyone inside over to him. I knew there was a chance that afterwards, he'd have no further use of me, but I couldn't pass up an opportunity this good. I would finally be a Sith, not just a Force-sensitive lapdog. And you, my son, would have the opportunity never afforded to me. You would have been the first Odrek to be a Sith of distinction. To have trained in and graduated from the Empire's most prestigious Academy."
"So you let Vai take me away to receive the training you never did," Isorr stoically said. "What did you do while I was gone? Did Tash uphold his promise to make you an apprentice?"
"Yes. He did," Ikton admitted. "Vai and I trained together, working under our master's direction. Vai handled domestic affairs. I worked externally. I got to fight in the Battle of Alderaan! I got to fight alongside Darth Malgus! I mean, not directly, but I was part of the invasion. I never had that chance before joining Tash. If not for him, I'd be stuck here, doing menial duties, going unappreciated. I got the chance to be a warrior, a real Sith! He gave me opportunities I'd have never received otherwise."
"I can't say the same," Isorr muttered.
"What happened to you ten years ago?" Ikton turned the question back toward his son.
"I was in our apartment," Isorr bitterly recalled. "Nothing to do but wait, as always, when suddenly an intruder shows up. I tried to hide, as taught, by you, but he could sense me. Vai began to converse with me, appeal to that desire to be a Sith that you had implanted in me since I first learned Basic. Promised to take me to the Academy, the institution that you had made out to be the most wondrous of places. I start to think. What about you? Why aren't you here? But I knew what you'd say. So I went with him. We flew to Korriban. I was deposited alongside other Force-sensitive children. Some Humans. Some aliens. We were taken below the surface. Assigned to groups and classrooms. For years, we'd toil beneath the surface, only stepping outside amongst unoccupied, unwatched sectors. We were not true students. We were hidden, or at the very least, kept out of sight."
"But you were trained, were you not?" Ikton asked. "Received lessons? Faced trials?"
"Only in the barest sense," Isorr declared. "None of us truly faced danger. Debilitating injuries were few and far between. They weren't weeding out the strong from the weak. They were simply pushing us forward, toward some unseen goal. For eight years, I blindly followed the instructors, believing them to be the only hope I had to become a Sith. But one day, a Sith Lord showed up to the Academy. Took only four warriors from the scores that resided in the classrooms. He gave us a test. Had us choose a partner from the same halls in which we resided, but were training to become inquisitors. The idea was odd, perhaps unsettling, but it was the first tangible chance at becoming an apprentice, and I guess I couldn't pass it up no matter the surrounding circumstances."
As the son finished his last sentence, his stern gaze softened a bit as he continued to look into his father's eyes. In recounting his own tale, he realized how he himself had fallen for the same trappings. The promise of apprenticeship, where none existed prior, proved infinitely enticing to men such as them.
"This Sith Lord, this is the Syrosk you mentioned?" Ikton asked, breaking the silence.
"Correct. An alien, but a Sith Lord," Isorr explained. "This was two years ago, but it was months before we found out who he was or what his purpose was. Did you ever question the means of which Vai and his master were able to track you down? How they knew of my existence, and the fact that I was Force-sensitive?"
"I couldn't afford to dwell on it then," Ikton admitted. "I considered it little more than extreme luck at first. But in time, I came to understand how capable my master was at acquiring what he desired, chief of which being information. I've watched him trade favors, bartering for information before. After that, I believed nothing beyond his reach."
"That's understandable, for one individual I suppose," Isorr stated. "But Tash sought almost a hundred children across the galaxy. For that he needed someone with insight. For that, he needed my master. A Seer. Tash and Syrosk were partners. Your master used his connections to set up classrooms on Korriban, and my master used his visions to fill them. Shortly after the students were all gathered, the two came to blows and separated, Tash retaining total control of his students while Syrosk was left with nothing. For eight years Tash was free to do with us as he pleased with no interference whatsoever. Hell, aside from my master and his apprentices, Tash is still free to do whatever he wishes with those who remain in his domain. But we were pulled from the classrooms. And while we still weren't proper Sith, at least we were being trained like them. By someone who didn't care who we were or where we came from."
"Tash is not like other Sith," Ikton replied. "He doesn't care if you're an alien or not. I've been his apprentice for almost a decade!"
"Are you a Sith Lord?" Isorr asked.
"No…" Ikton softly answered.
"Darth Tash hasn't seen fit to bestow the title upon his loyal apprentice?"
"No. But Vai isn't a Lord either," Ikton explained. "And neither of us wish to be."
Isorr balked. "What?"
There was a pause, as the father took a sip from his coffee. "Before you left for the Academy, everything you knew of the Sith came from me, correct?" The son offered a nod. "And have your views of the Order changed since then?" Another nod. "Well, my views have changed as well. I taught you to believe in the sanctity of power, of self-interest, of standing amongst greatness. The importance and enduring nature of tradition…"
"You conveniently skipped over the fact that none of that applies if you're an alien," Isorr muttered.
"That's where you're wrong," Ikton countered. "Yes, we are at a disadvantage. Yes, we are looked down upon by those who do not recognize our skill. But that does not mean we are incapable of being Sith. That we are incapable of earning respect. I can count on my hand the number of Zabrak bloodlines that stand in high regard in the Empire, but they do exists. Our strength, our resilience, our tenacity. It does not go unnoticed. We've made homes for ourselves in Imperial space before the war even broke out. We are capable of earning a place alongside any Human or Pureblood, we simply require more time. It may take years, decades, generations, but it is possible. A family that serves the Empire for centuries is not ignored because of their blood, so long as that blood contains the power of the Force. My father was stepped on at every turn, but he fought, ensuring that his son would have a place amongst the Sith. A small place, but a place higher than his nonetheless. I did the same, making sure that you would have the opportunity to ascend higher than I. Tash expedited the process. He catapulted you ahead by what could have taken us generations to come. He gave you a place in the Academy."
"Except he didn't," Isorr replied. "His classrooms are a lie. The second I stepped foot outside of them, I was just another despised alien who didn't belong."
"But it's better than what you would have had!" Ikton emphatically declared. "Before he came along, I was the worthless servant of petulant Sith Lord. You would have grown up, inherited my meager assets, and maybe start two steps ahead of where I started. Then your child would start a little further than you, and their child a little further still. But in a hundred years, little would have changed. Do you think, maybe you were hidden for your own good? Maybe you were being protected?"
"At the cost of strength and skill?"
"Yes!" Ikton shouted. "Do you know what strength and skill amounts to when you have a collective after you? A group of people who want nothing more than to see you taken down? Dark Councilors are regularly killed and replaced. No amount of personal power can save you when everyone wants you dead."
"There's always someone who wants you dead."
"Does that mean you go around advertising your presence to them?" Ikton asked before releasing a low sigh. "Oh, of course you do, because that's 'the Sith thing to do'. You face challenges, get stronger, or die, right? Nothing else matters. Except it does. You want to know what the Sith Order's problem is? Single-mindedness. The inability to see or even think about something other than what's right in front of you. The inability to change, to adapt, to try anything different than what rests currently in your mind. You have to be the best. You be the best by taking the place of your betters, you take the place of your betters by being the best. I've fought in countless battles across countless worlds. I've fought Jedi and Sith. I won my master the Nebulae Campaign. I earned him the rank of Darth. Before, I would have been utterly dissatisfied. After all I've done, I should deserve more, right? I should try taking what I deserve, right? But I have everything I need. I have my son. Even though we had not spoken with or seen one another for almost a decade, I knew that everything I did was for you. Every bit of prestige, everything of worth I accrued, I knew it would be passed to you."
"But why?"
"Because what's the point of doing everything for yourself?" Ikton warmly declared. "If you have nothing to pass on, all of your accomplishments reset to null the second you die. That's the reason we have children. Hell, that's the reason Sith have apprentices, or rather, it should be. There are still facets of the Sith Order I have not turned my back on. A master takes an apprentice, trains them, provides them the means of surpassing them. That's something worth preserving, worth believing in."
"And you think Tash shares such a belief?" Isorr asked.
"I do," Ikton answered.
"And what about the classrooms?"
"I know nothing of them or their purpose," Ikton admitted. "And me being kept in the dark is likely because of your involvement with them. Were I informed of their existence and purpose, I'd likely trust my master's intent."
"And what of the fact that he's lied about my status for the past two years?" Isorr asked.
"Would you tell a father you've lost his son to someone you've fought with in the past? The man is still a Sith and acts accordingly. Has he moved against you or your master?"
"Not overtly," Isorr admitted. "And only against Syrosk. Throughout most of our training we've been isolated. But… we did receive a visit from Vai recently."
"You did say you had spoken with him" Ikton stated. "What did he have to say?"
"He… offered us a place under Tash," Isorr explained. "Said there were no hard feelings, that we could continue our training as his apprentices. We declined."
"I see," Ikton almost whispered. "I'm sure you all had your reasons."
"We did. And the decision was not made lightly," Isorr declared. "We mostly did it to stay together, considering we would likely come to blows when our masters' paths eventually passed. I was the only one with family only the other side, though."
"You must think highly of your fellow apprentices, not wanting to go against them," Ikton stated.
"I suppose," Isorr hesitantly admitted. "My partner is a capable ally, and I'd not see the others forced to die by my hand. More so than the father I'd not seen in ten years."
"Understandable," Ikton muttered with a soft nod. "What brought you here though, into the arms of your master's enemy?"
"Recent events have seen me and the other apprentices exiled from Korriban," Isorr stated. "While Syrosk was allowed to remain, we were forced offworld. We decided to put our training on hold to pursue more… personal ventures."
"And you decided to come see your father."
"Well, technically it was decided for me," Isorr commented.
The elder Zabrak puzzled as the younger one reached into the folds of his cloak, returning with a single sheet of flimsiplast. The son placed the sheet on the table and slid it over to the father, who looked upon it with curiosity. The edges were warped, and the spots where Isorr's muddy fingers made contact were torn and wilted, but its message was plainly visible. A series of coordinates, and the name Ikton Odrek.
"Who gave you this?" Ikton wondered.
"We don't know for sure," Isorr stated. "We think it could have been Vai. One of the other apprentices thinks he has a warm relationship with him despite their masters' tensions. Thinks he was giving us a gift after being exiled. Vai told me about you when he was trying to convince me to join Tash. There's a chance this is an extension of that. If I met you, maybe I'd change my mind about staying with Syrosk or something."
"And have you?" Ikton asked.
"Maybe. Not really. I mean, if I was asked to fight you, I'd most likely decline," Isorr admitted.
"Yeah. Same here," Ikton replied. There was a pause as the two Sith looked to their drinks, the murky liquid growing increasingly cold.
"I suppose we really are similar," Isorr said, emotion all but abandoned. "Zabrak who blindly rushed to join our masters. Who have had ideals beaten into and out of them. Who are surrounded by people trying to guide them toward what they seem to think is best for them."
"Like father like son," Ikton replied.
"So… were you successful?" Isorr asked.
"In what way?"
"In giving me a head start? Do you still think I'm better off than you were?"
"At your age? Definitely," Ikton answered. "If I were as strong as you are back then, you'd have been abandoned in a much nicer apartment."
The two Zabrak's lips began to display small curls, almost resembling smiles.
"You gonna tell Tash about any of this?" Isorr asked.
"Nah. After all, he kept me in the dark about you. Might as well do the same to him," Ikton explained. "What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Same thing I've been doing I suppose," Isorr declared. Reaching across the table, the younger Zabrak retrieved the sheet of flimsiplast, holding it in his hands for a moment before returning it to the folds of his cloak. "You know, our talks with Vai were pretty enlightening. Perhaps you should have a chat with him as well."
"At the very least, thank him for letting me see my son," Ikton stated. "Assuming it was him who sent you here, of course."
"Who else would be able to tell me I'd find you here?" the son asked.
"I suppose only Tash and Vai would know when and where I would be," Ikton replied. "Although someone could have just given you the location of my home and hoped for the best."
"How often are you here anyway? I thought you were this battle-hardened warrior, out fighting wars, conquering planets for your master."
"True, I'm often called elsewhere, but my time here has been spent resting," Ikton admitted.
"Tire yourself out easily old man?" Isorr teased his father.
"No," Ikton countered. "Tash needs me rested and ready for the next battle."
"And which battle might that be?" Isorr asked.
"Don't know," Ikton admitted. "Details have been sparse. Tash has been talking with the Ministry heads. Something big is coming."
"Is that so?" Isorr offered before taking a final sip of his coffee.
"I can guarantee it has nothing to do with you or your master," Ikton bluntly stated.
"Yeah, but my master has a knack for making things about him."
Passing through the polluted skies of the mining world, a motley assemblage of shuttles and transport ships raised and lowered themselves amongst the clearings between Yerrig's palace and the dig sites. Former slaves and slavers alike stood in loose formations, each ready to depart the dreary world. Standing over the scene, Lorrik and Jresh watched as the individuals piled onto the vessels of smugglers and escorts, ready to ferry them to their world of choice for a price. A price each of them were now suitably capable of paying.
Holding the datapad he had received months and months ago in his hand, Lorrik received a communication from his comrades.
"Message from Arlia," Lorrik spoke to his partner. "Says she's earned us some credits."
"That's good news I suppose," Jresh declared, casting a careful gaze over the moving figures in the distance.
"Yeah, she also says Isorr wants to talk. To all of us. Well, all of us except Syrosk it seems," Lorrik explained. "He wants all the apprentices to meet up. Should we invite them here?"
"It's as good a place as any," Jresh stated. "We should be the only ones here by the time they arrive."
"Alright, I'll send the word," Lorrik declared, tapping away at the electronic screen.
The Pureblood watched as the figures ahead boarded the various shuttles, slaves and their oppressors moving in tandem. "The transition is proceeding remarkably smoothly."
"The right mixture of incentives I suppose," Lorrik stated. "A new life, credits for their troubles, and the fear of the two Sith standing on a nearby hill. Are they all happy? No. Have they all forgotten what happened days prior? No. But they've weighed their options, and this is best one for all of them. Will some fall right back into the old ways the second they step off those ships? Most likely. But there's only so much we can do. Or rather, only so much we should do."
"I'm sure when other Sith struggle with self-restraint, it isn't concerning matters like this."
Lorrik offered a quick chuckle. "I suppose not." Tapping away at his datapad, the inquisitor received a couple of notices on the screen. "Arlia and Kar'ai say they're on their way. Their partners too."
"What of Nesk and Vurt?" Jresh asked.
"No response."
"You think they're in trouble?"
"Oh, I've no doubt," Lorrik warmly replied.
Beneath the foggy skies and dense canopy of a jungle world, a lone Imperial shuttle sat motionless on the forest floor. Dense shrubbery encroached upon the solitary metallic object, a single column of light shining down on it from the vertical hole made by its descent. Within the cockpit, a single piloting droid sat idling. Within the passenger bay, the meager belongings of two Sith sat strewn about the flooring, two datapads amongst them. On each of the electronic screens, a red notice blinked and flashed, going unattended.
The shuttle was quiet, and its owners were out.