Chapter Twenty Five: Unions
Four Imperial shuttles sat parked outside Yerrig's palace. The outside world of the mining planet had gone silent, completely stilled. The smugglers and transports had come and gone, ferrying their passengers to their new lives. The armed escorts who opted to oversee the transition were paid their dues and sent on their way. The lands were desolate, as they always had been, but now, there was no one to look upon them. The yellow hills and smoggy air were there to stay, but they would no longer feel the intruding touch of sentients.
The world's sole occupants were holed up in the estate of the deceased slave master. The apprentices had been gathered, each suitably satisfied with the paths they had walked days prior. Hours spent traveling through hyperspace. Hours spent walking amongst terrestrial lands. Hours spent seeking their desired targets. Each of them carried inside them a strange, contradictory swell of emotion. They were fulfilled, and yet they were not. They were satisfied, and yet they were not. They were pleased, and yet they were not. For how could they be, so long as the burden of uncertainty weighed heavy upon each and every one of them.
The Sith had grouped themselves together in the home of Lorrik's parents, cramping themselves within the living area upon limited seating arrangements. If there was ever a way to make a Sith look less intimidating, it was to have them sit on a miniature stool. The eight apprentices gathered around the living room table, couches and chairs situated in a rough circle, to discuss recent events.
"So let me get this straight," Arlia began, scrunched against her companion with whom she shared a sofa with. "You managed to bring down the entire mining operation on this planet by yourself?"
"Well, if by 'by yourself' you mean me and Jresh, then yeah," Lorrik plainly replied from across the table, sitting next to his partner on a slightly larger couch. "Take out the leader, everything under him starts to collapse."
"None of his workers put up a fight?" Arlia asked.
"This was a job for them," Lorrik stated. "I made sure they got paid, and they were happy to find another job amongst the countless other opportunities for security work."
"How did you keep the slaves from lashing out?" Arlia continued.
"Just had to lay on a bit of the Sith charm," Lorrik explained.
"Right," Arlia dismissively offered. "You just can't go a day without helping someone out can you."
"Funny you should say that, 'Miss Arlia'," Kar'ai teased. The Rattataki and her partner shared a cushioned armchair, each sitting on one of the armrests, leaning their shoulders against one another's. "She spent her free time rescuing a bunch of children."
"Is that so?" Lorrik playfully commented, resting his chin on his joined hands.
"If you must know, I was there to kill my former owner," Arlia emphatically declared. "I just happened to free a few children by happenstance."
"What? You never told us you were a former slave," Lorrik blurted out.
Ryloh perked up. "I know! I said the same thing,."
The purple Twi'lek offered her firmly arched brow toward both of them as she maintained a silent pause. "It was an operation run by a woman. Didn't know her name. Everyone just called her 'The Matron'."
"Funnily enough, my former slave master's name was Yerrig," Lorrik stated. "But after digging through his records, I found out that he changed his name to that, because his previous one didn't sound like the last name of a 'reputable businessman'."
"Well, I suppose reputation needs to be maintained, good or bad," Arlia commented.
"I guess we're not so different after all," Lorrik jokingly declared. "So, anyone else topple any slaving operations in their spare time?"
A few of the Sith shared a brief laugh that was cut short at the sight of the Trandoshan slightly lifting his hand. The other apprentices offered their own befuddled looks at the silent warrior, hoping for the explanation they knew would never come.
"It's a shame Kar'ai and Ryloh didn't bring one down. That would have made us four for four," Lorrik joked.
"We thought about it," Ryloh muttered, almost ashamed of himself now. "We just didn't think it was the right choice at the time."
"He's got a sister on Ryloth," Kar'ai answered for her partner. "We decided to hold off on picking her up until we get our current affairs in order."
"What about you?" Lorrik asked. "What directions were you given?"
"Extended family on Rattatak," Kar'ai answered. "Don't really care about 'em. In fact, I think the man who killed my father was a second-cousin or something, so familial ties aren't too sacred to us."
"I think you've been silent long enough," Arlia declared, jabbing her elbow into her companion's side.
All this time, the Zabrak hadn't uttered a word. The warrior had leaned forward, elbows planted onto his thighs, mouth covered by his interlocked hands as his gaze seemed to stare off into the distance. Much of the dried mud had been scrapped off the warrior's digits, but a layer of dust and dirt still stained much of his outfit.
"You want to tell us what was so important that we all had to be here?" Arlia asked.
"I went… to Dromund Kaas," Isorr softly began, lowering his hands, but maintaining his stance.
"No way. They let you onto the Imperial Capital?" Lorrik asked, suitably impressed.
"Dropped him off at the orbital station," Arlia answered for him. "He managed to sneak onto and off world."
"Why were you on Kaas?" Lorrik asked.
Isorr let a pause hang heavy in the air. "To see my father."
"I see," Lorrik replied. "Was this a pleasant visit, or…"
"When I first received the note, I didn't know what type of visit it was going to be," Isorr declared. "He allowed Vai to take me to the Academy, even though he had to have known that aliens would never be permitted to become true Sith. I thought there was a chance he knew about Tash's plans, but sent me anyway. That there was a chance he simply cast me aside under the pretense of sending me to become a Sith."
"What did you find out?" Lorrik wondered.
"He was ignorant. Tricked, the same as the rest of us," Isorr answered. "He thought Tash was offering his son a chance he'd never received. That my enrollment in the Academy would be genuine. When I met him, he wondered why I was there instead of the classrooms."
"That's good to hear, I suppose," Lorrik replied.
"Yeah. It was a relief, but rather confusing, considering he's Tash's apprentice," Isorr stoically explained. The other Sith looked to the Zabrak with a mixture of disbelief and befuddlement, unsure if they had even heard him right.
"Did you say Tash's apprentice?" Lorrik asked for clarification. The horned warrior nodded.
"I thought Vai was his apprentice," Kar'ai declared.
"It's not like you can only have one," Arlia said. "Hell, Syrosk has eight."
"How many does Tash have?" Ryloh asked.
"Just the two," Isorr calmly answered.
"Says who?" Arlia challenged. "'Cause if it's your father, he's not exactly the most knowledgeable person, what with him being apprenticed to your master's sworn enemy."
"Wait, you said he wondered why you weren't in the classrooms?" Lorrik asked.
"Yeah," Isorr briskly replied. "He didn't even recognize Syrosk's name when I said it. It seems his master hasn't been too forthcoming with him about his past or his future plans."
"So he didn't know about your apprenticeship? The past two years?" Arlia asked.
"He didn't. He does now," Isorr answered.
"Was telling him the best idea?" Arlia continued. "I mean, if he still serves Tash, he could tell his master about you, about us, about what we've been doing."
"I didn't tell him anything about you all," Isorr explained. "And even if I did, his loyalties are to himself and his son."
"That's great news isn't it?" Ryloh added. "I mean, doesn't that mean we can bring him over to our side?"
"He still respects his master," Isorr declared. "He was the only Sith willing to give him a chance."
"He gave Syrosk a chance, and look how that turned out," Arlia stated.
"That's what has me curious," Isorr replied. "My father has served Tash for years and thrived. Vai has served him longer, and he seems to be Lorrik's new best friend. You think maybe we're going after the wrong Sith? Maybe it's Syrosk who's in the wrong?"
"I've no doubt in my mind that Syrosk has made many mistakes in his life," Lorrik admitted. "But that doesn't mean Tash is any better."
"Maybe not. But if they are equal, maybe choosing the side that has some measure of standing is the correct choice," Isorr stated.
"So Tash has done some good for some people, what about the scores of students still in his classrooms?" Lorrik asked.
"We still don't know their purpose," Isorr countered. "After what Syrosk has been through, after what you've been through, it seems as though keeping them hidden and off the radar is the best choice if they want to be kept alive."
"What happened to you, Isorr?" Arlia interrupted. "You use to be all, 'strength is the only measure of a person's worth'. I mean, you pretty much out-Sithed the Pureblood over there."
"That all changed the day I realized my lineage meant I was superficially inferior to other Sith," Isorr declared. "The day our skill was worthless if not backed by blood. The day we got exiled because one of us had the gall to defend himself."
"So that's it, after all we've been through you're just giving up?" Arlia chided.
"I am not giving up, nor will I ever give up," Isorr adamantly replied. "I simply recognize the futility of thinking we can change things ourselves. The Empire has been set in its ways for centuries, do you people honestly think with just the eight of us, that we can overcome one of the Sith's most deeply imbedded traditions?"
The room fell silent. The eight apprentices couldn't look one another in the eye, their gazes steadily trailing toward the floor. The living area possessed a melancholy calm, and a stillness that persisted until a new figure entered from the kitchen. The elder Velash, Lorrik's father, entered holding within his hand a tray, upon which sat eight small cups.
"Here's some coffee for you and your friends, Lorrik," Garen warmly stated, carefully navigating the maze of seats and setting the tray upon the central table.
"Thanks, dad," Lorrik said as he lifted his gaze, smile forming on his lips. The Human inquisitor was the first to take a cup as the father retreated, leaving the Sith to their business. The son took a long sip of the warm beverage, before looking to his comrades. "To answer your question… yes. I believe we can."
Jresh was the next to pick up a cup, with the other apprentices following him soon after. The others weren't sure what to think. After all they had accomplished, it had all been attained in a very tight, very restricted environment. Opening themselves to the Empire at-large brought about an entirely new series of troubles and problems they had no control over. And through it all they stuck by one another. Loyal to each other above all else. Above masters, above country, above family. But they knew it would take more than trust amongst a few fellows to succeed in the future. What exactly they needed, none of them could quite say. Strength could be overcome. Knowledge could be outmatched. Each and every one of them was able and willing to fight, but they knew not whom they were fighting against.
"Hmm," Isorr sounded out as he took a sip of his drink. "So this is what good coffee tastes like."
Hours passed. Day turned to night. As much as the apprentices had to discuss, there was little more for them to speak about. The sizable palace had a number of guest rooms for the apprentices to retire for the night, none of them willing to stay in the main room owned by the former slave master. As the pairs readied themselves for the day's end, one apprentice was not with his partner. Walking the empty halls of the palace alone was Jresh, making his way toward the estate's entrance at a calm, yet focused pace.
Stepping past the confines of the palace interior, the Pureblood stood under the diminished moonlight that passed through the hazy atmosphere. But as he stepped outside, he also ceased to be alone, as Lorrik's father leaned patiently against the wall adjacent the palace entrance. Garen Velash relaxed against the hard surface, taking the occasional sip of his drink as he stared toward the sky.
"Mr. Velash," Jresh softly spoke up, announcing his presence. The father glanced over with a smile on his face, a soft glint in his uncovered eye.
"Jresh. What bring you out here?" Garen warmly asked.
"I wanted to talk, about Lorrik, if you don't mind," Jresh stated.
"Of course I don't mind. Go right ahead," Garen declared, shifting his weight against the wall so as to better face the adjacent Sith.
"I'm sure you're aware that Force-sensitivity is considered hereditary."
"I'm aware," Garen replied.
"Then it stands to reason one or both of Lorrik's parents would be Force-sensitive, but as far as I can tell, neither of you are," Jresh admitted. "Is there a chance it skipped a generation, or that one of you has latent sensitivity?"
"I suppose there's always a chance," Garen plainly answered. "Though the easier explanation would be that he isn't our biological child."
The Pureblood looked to the father with a puzzled look in his eyes. "Lorrik isn't your son?"
"Of course he's my son," Garen replied. "Family isn't defined by blood. Meylin and I have raised him ever since he was a baby."
"Did you know his biological parents?" Jresh asked.
"Just the mother," Garen stated.
"Was she a slave?"
"No. Then again, back then neither were we," Garen explained.
"What were you?"
"I suppose the most apt description would be… anarchists," Garen admitted. The Pureblood stood in silence as the Human took another drink. "Ideological criminals, if you want to get technical. Just a group of people doing what we had to in order to get by. It was me, Meylin, Lorrik's mother, and a few others."
"How did you come to take care of Lorrik?"
"His mother passed shortly after he was born," Garen softly stated. "Meylin and I volunteered to raise him as our own. Changed all our last names to Velash. It was a plain, common enough family name. We wanted something 'ordinary' as we began our new life."
"How did you become slaves?" Jresh asked.
"Our line of work didn't make us a lot of friends, and had a way of following us after we left it behind," Garen explained. "Eventually, we crossed the wrong people. Found ourselves in debt. Debt became indentured servitude. That eventually led to full blown slavery. We thought to resist, for Lorrik's sake, but realized that would just put him in more danger. So we kept him close, protected his as well as we could. When the Sith came to take him to the Academy, we knew exactly the kind of people they were. The kind of people we fought against before becoming slaves. But we tried to justify it, again for Lorrik's sake. Told ourselves the Sith weren't any worse than the Jedi or the Republic, or the people who ruled our lives then. Justified the tragedies by saying, 'well, at least they're upfront about it'. All lies we told ourselves, of course. But, there weren't many options for a better life then, so we tried so hard to convince ourselves that this one was genuine. Every day after I sent him away, I wondered if I had done the right thing for my son. Now, seeing him return. Seeing how happy he is. How happy you've made him. I know I made the right call."
Jresh watched the father take another sip of his coffee as he returned his gaze up toward the night sky. The Pureblood joined him in gazing upon the filtered light of the moon and stars. The two shared a moment of silence as they become lost in the oddly comforting sight.
"As oddly selfish as this is to say, thank you," Jresh said, not taking his eyes of the hazy night sky. "If you hadn't made that decision, if you hadn't allowed Lorrik to be taken to the Academy, I don't know what our lives would be like. For me, and the other Sith. Your son's suffered great pains, but he's endured, and along the way has helped us in ways beyond recognition."
"No need to thank me," Garen warmly declared. "And if you haven't noticed, the galaxy's a selfish place. If you don't take a little piece for yourself now and again, someone else is going to end up taking a little piece of you."
"I see you're not without wisdom."
"That come as a surprise to you, what with me being 'non-Force-sensitive'," Garen jokingly teased.
"Not at all. My father was blind to the Force, and I hold a great deal of respect for him. Now more than ever," Jresh stated. There was a pause as the Pureblood lowered his gaze, about to reenter the adopted home.
"Hey," Garen called out, slowly removing himself from the palace wall. "I don't know what it is exactly that you all are planning to do. But you keep Lorrik safe, alright?"
"I can do that," Jresh adamantly declared before stepping into the palace, leaving the father alone underneath the darkened skies. The Human slightly bobbed his head, a smile forming on his lips as he took one final sip of his coffee.
The Pureblood returned to the guest room he and Lorrik had decided to move into. The chamber didn't possess the grandeur and opulence of the palace that surrounded it, but it far surpassed the suite they had grown accustomed to. White walls with golden trim stretched above its occupants' heads to a decorated ceiling. A large bed topped with luxurious fabrics sat in the middle of the chamber, with doors leading to closets and bathrooms sitting on either side of it.
Jresh entered to see his partner sitting at a desk near the entrance, chin resting on his palms as he leaned his elbows against the hard surface. The warrior approached his partner, looking over the inquisitor's shoulder to see an arrangement of items lined up in front of him. A holocron. A mask. An amulet. A severed claw. Four items of power the apprentice had procured through force or gift.
"I feel like I'm not doing enough," Lorrik softly admitted, sensing his companion's presence. "The other apprentices. They're relying on me for answers. For guidance."
"They rely on you, because they trust your judgment," Jresh stated. "They don't expect you to have all the answers or to blindly rush into a situation without them. And neither do I. We don't need to make a decision today. We don't need to make a decision this week. Take your time. The answers will come. They always do."
"But what if this time, they don't?" Lorrik asked. "Or if they do come, what if I end up being wrong?"
"You wouldn't be the first. We all make mistakes. What matters isn't that we make them, but how we respond to them."
"But what if these mistakes end up getting people killed?" Lorrik asked. "What if I'm responsible for the death of the other apprentices? Or Isorr's father? Or the students of the Academy?"
"The fact that you are willing and want to help makes you a better person than practically any other Sith," Jresh declared, placing a hand on his partner's shoulder.
"My intentions are worthless if I still end up ruining other peoples' lives," Lorrik replied, keeping his head hung low.
"The chance that things might go wrong has never stopped you before."
"And look where that's gotten us. Exiled. Caught between two Sith Lords. And you with only one good leg-"
The once comforting hand on Lorrik's shoulder clenched, grabbing hold of the inquisitor's robes. In one swift move, the warrior pulled the Human up from his chair, forcing him to his feet.
"I do not care about the leg," Jresh emphatically stated, turning his partner to face him. "Being a Sith means inviting pain into one's life. I've made peace with that long ago. Was it a mistake? Yes. Could it have been prevented? Perhaps. Should you keep beating yourself up for it? Absolutely not. You think all the good you've done is negated by the hardships we've faced, almost none of which you're directly responsible for? If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't have survived in the Korriban wastes. We might have never learned about our place in the Academy. The others wouldn't have gotten the chance at closure regarding their pasts. And most important of all, I never would have met the love of my life. You chastise Syrosk for fearing the futures he has seen, and yet you fear those that you cannot. You're crippled by uncertainty, when you shouldn't be. We've survived the worst that could be thrown at us. We've endured. We've pressed on. Each defeat was followed by victory. Each injury was followed by recovery. There is nothing we can attribute to you that has made us weaker. We've only grown stronger from your guidance. You think the other apprentices care that they might get hurt? That they might die? That's been true for them every single day for the past two years, maybe longer. You've proven yourself a capable individual. Someone who is strong. Someone who is smart. Someone who believes in something other than himself. But now, more than ever, you need to believe in yourself. For your own sake as well as ours."
"You're right," Lorrik softly muttered, wrapping his arms around his companion's waist. "I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing," Jresh warmly offered, reciprocating the hug. "It's not about being wrong. It's about making things right. Something we all think you're capable of."
The two continued the warm embrace in silence, Lorrik's head resting gently against his partner's chest. "'Love of your life', huh?"
"You know it," Jresh whispered, planting a soft kiss on the Human's forehead.
The inquisitor looked up, a smirk creeping across his lips. The warrior offered the curious arch of his brow, only to be interrupted by the Human jumping up and wrapping his legs around the Pureblood's waist. Jresh felt his partner's hands caressing the sides of his face as Lorrik pulled himself closer. The two Sith's lips touched, and they shared a long, impassioned kiss. Upholding his partner's weight with the greatest of ease, Jresh carefully walked over to the bed as Lorrik tightened his grip around his companion. Falling onto the sheets, the pair felt the weight of the world wash away as all other matters slipped from their minds.
In that moment, they had only each other, and that was all they needed.