Chapter Ten: Resolutions

The two apprentices stood resolute, picking themselves off the ground following Tash's powerful Force wave. As the Darth approached them, he did so with a cold determination, equal parts patient and ill-tempered. He had no need to run. In fact, doing so would be to his detriment. At the moment, he could approach the pair of challengers with a steady gait, prolonging the amount of time they were forced to gaze upon his chilling visage, slowly instilling the fear of a Dark Lord of the Sith.

All parties had drawn their sabers. From the Pureblood's black hilt sprouted the familiar blade of crimson, and from the inquisitor's, the ever peculiar blue beam. But as his face basked in the glow of his own red weapon, the Darth paid no mind to the younger Human's weapon. He couldn't be bothered to care for such insignificancies. As Tash neared his targets, mind firmly set on its path, the apprentices were pressured for their response. They had to decide, then and there, how to deal with their immensely powerful foe. The conflict was unavoidable, that much was readily apparent. The only question was how could they resolve it. And whether or not their exhausting bodies would even allow them to carry out such a resolution.

The two apprentices raised their guard and began sidestepping away from one another. If they had any hope of victory, they had to ensure the battle would be fought at three points instead of a mere two. The line connecting the combatants had turned to a triangle as the apprentices separated themselves, forcing the Darth to choose whom to focus his attention. Tash could only fight in a single direction at a time, or so they hoped. One would bear the elder Human's initial assault, whilst the other attacked his flank.

Tash set his eyes on the physically stronger of the pair, focusing his approach on the Pureblood. In the blink of an eye, the Darth launched forward, gliding across the floor in a single step to close the gap between himself and the warrior. A quick swipe of the Darth's blade was intercepted by Jresh's, the kinetic energy behind the blow shaking the Pureblood's arms. But he would not budge an inch. Pushing back, the warrior had enough strength to force the Darth a step backward, toward the now charging inquisitor.

Lorrik thrust the tip of his saber forward, intent on piercing his opponent's back, only to have him sidestep the blow at the last moment, the inquisitor's blade only gracing the edge of the Darth's black cape. Tash's movements were fluid and continuous, utilizing the momentum of every motion enacted upon him. Spinning on his heels, the elder Human swung his saber toward the offset attacker who had just missed him. The inquisitor had no way of adequately blocking the strike, opting instead to sloppily roll forward beyond the Darth's reach. Such a maneuver would have easily been exploited and punished, had Jresh not moved in to pick up the slack, clashing blades with the elder Human once more.

The Pureblood tightly gripped both hands around the hilt of his saber, sacrificing neither offense nor defense as he channeled the Force throughout his entire body. Every step, every swing of his arms was fueled by more than just muscle. But the same could be said for the Darth, whom had the advantage of decades of communing with the mystic source. Whilst the two powerful figures remained locked in a clash of sabers, the inquisitor righted himself and rejoined the fold.

The two apprentices attacked as one, much as they had when battling with their master. But this time they did not have the luxury of a fresh start. Despite the advantage of two bodies, the pair did not possess the strength to breach the Darth's defenses. They were too slow, their legs almost crumbling beneath their weight, their arms almost refusing to maintain their holds. If not for their raw determination, if not for the Force, they would have long ago lost the ability to move, let alone engage in battle.

Lorrik and Jresh would attack, releasing a series of blows that Tash would block or parry. They would duck and weave about the Darth, avoiding whatever attacks they knew they were incapable of blocking. And as soon as they found themselves nearing a breach in their opponent's defenses, the elder Human would release a powerful Force wave, shaking their stances and sending them tumbling backward.

As the inquisitor slid upon his back across the smooth chamber floor, the warrior slid upon his feet, digging his knee as well as his blade into the floor to slow and stabilize his forced movement. From his kneeling position, Jresh launched a renewed assault, leaping at the Darth, ready to bring down his weapon with all his might. But Tash would have none of it. Thrusting his hands outward, the Darth caught his opponent in mid-air with the Force, the Pureblood's stilled body floating beyond his reach. With a wide swing of his arms, Tash sent the warrior flying across the chamber to impact against the still standing wall opposite the destroyed opening. The Pureblood's armored body struck the solid surface with enough force to leave an indentation, as well an echoing thud, before he slumped to the ground.

"Jresh!" Lorrik exclaimed as he picked himself up from the ground. He feverishly eyed his partner who remained motionless upon the floor. Tightening his grip around his lightsaber, the inquisitor charged the Darth, only to find a stream of lightning released from the elder Human's free hand.

The inquisitor raised his blade, the crackling blue energy connecting with the beam of plasma, surging from tip to hilt. The younger Human steeled himself, planting his feet and maintaining his guard, focusing all of his attention on keeping the lightning isolated in his lightsaber's blade. Finally, the Darth relented, lowering his hand as the last arc of electricity left his fingertips.

"What is it you hope to accomplish here?" Tash taunted.

"I could ask you the same thing," Lorrik curtly replied, saber still raised, face aglow with the blue light of his weapon.

The Darth let out a low chortle. "I'm making the Empire a better place."

"Let me guess, by elevating yourself to a position of power, whilst letting the filth like us and the acolytes die in your place," Lorrik chided.

"You truly are Syrosk's apprentice. Seeing only what you want to," Tash countered. "You think me like other Sith? You think I care one bit about the blood running through your veins? Those acolytes are just as worthy of being Sith as any other."

"Then why lie to them? Why hold them back? Why do everything in your power to keep them from becoming true Sith?"

"You foolish child. Do you even have the smallest idea of how the Empire truly works? I'm not the one holding those student's back. It's every traditionalist with some measure of sway amongst the Sith. You simply can't fathom the idea that I'm the best thing to ever happen to those acolytes. That without me, you'd be nothing."

"I suppose you'd have me forget Syrosk's involvement?" Lorrik asked.

"You'd be better off for doing so," Tash declared. "Syrosk served his purpose, and had he listened to me, he could have avoided some of the troubles he's been forced to endure. Sadly, he was too headstrong, too ambitious."

"So you cut him out, because he had the audacity to challenge you, to challenge tradition. He was punished because he held true to the ideals of the Sith, not the petty traditions it holds dear."

"You still have no idea of what it means to be a Sith."

"It means having freedom," Lorrik emphatically stated.

The Darth released another low chortle. "Don't you get it, boy? There's no such thing as freedom. Whether you belong to the Jedi or Sith, Republic or Empire, everyone is somebody else's slave. No matter have strong you become, no matter how high you climb, you'll always be beholden to someone else. Someone will always control your life. Even as Sith. Even as Lords. Even as Darths and Dark Councilors. That was Syrosk's problem. He thought he was alone, isolated. He thought that just because he was an alien, he somehow operated outside of the system. In reality, it just meant more eyes were watching him. Whilst he was scouting for Force-sensitive children, I was dealing with the repercussions. I was pressured to sever ties with him, but I wouldn't, because I truly believed in the same things as he. I thought something could be made of those students. But in the following years, even after severing ties with Syrosk, those who called for his head were now calling for yours. I was pressured to purge the classrooms, their continued existence a blight on our homeworld, on the Academy. I made every excuse I could, saying they weren't true students of the Academy, saying they were tools of war, that they would never become true Sith, all the while keeping their true purpose a secret."

The inquisitor's eyes sharpened. "And what was their true purpose?"

"They didn't have one," Tash bluntly explained. "You were intended to be blank slates. Unshaped forms to be molded toward some future purpose. You were supposed to be useful in some manner, some capacity, but you never were. You were originally going to be made into the perfect apprentices, beholden to and in reverence of your masters. You were commodities to be bartered and traded. The only problem? No one wanted you. I promised students who would never betray, never question. But you were tainted. Cursed. No one was willing to take on the trouble associated with you. I was stuck with almost one hundred dysfunctional products."

"Then why keep us around? Why continue the classrooms if you knew nothing would come from them?" Lorrik asked.

"Because I still had to recoup my loses," Tash answered. "I still had debts to pay and I wasn't about to throw away a potential asset. I knew that eventually, the acolytes would find a way to make themselves useful. And they did."

"The vaults," Lorrik muttered.

"That's right," Tash replied. "You had a reason to exist, one I could play up to the other Sith."

"But why? What's so important about the vaults?"

"Their contents," Tash plainly stated. "Ancient artifacts and treasures aren't exactly a renewable resource. I spent years, decades, climbing up the Sith food chain. I've fought countless battles, slain countless soldiers whilst overseeing our own. I've delivered victory after victory to the Sith and the Empire, and as far as I've risen, there's still more to climb. For every favor I'd earn, I'd wind up owing another. For all my strength, for all my knowledge, it was overlooked amidst the sea of countless warriors vying for recognition. But I knew a way to earn as much in a single battle as I had across the entire war. I knew of the vaults. I knew of their value. They were beyond my reach, but I knew Coruscant would eventually become a military target. And I knew I held in my hands a way of striking all the vaults simultaneously without dividing the spoils amongst other Lords."

"Let the acolytes attack the vaults, believing that if they're successful they'll have finally earned the attention of their mysterious patron," Lorrik suggested. "Meanwhile, you take all the credit and items for yourself."

"Truly the best course of action," Tash declared.

"And what about the students?" Lorrik asked. "They get nothing? All this talk about benefiting them was as much a lie as everything else?"

"Of course not," Tash replied. "Putting the spoils in my hands is what's best for them. Spread out amongst the acolytes, the artifacts aren't worth the effort. Consolidated under a single individual, and it becomes enough to shake up the Sith Order. You'd be doing them a disservice by putting the acolytes in charge of the vaults' contents. They wouldn't even know what to do with them, and they'd just be taken away by someone stronger."

"Someone like you," Lorrik muttered.

"If they were lucky," Tash stated. "Your life under Syrosk has left you sheltered, blind the larger world around you. There are far worse Sith than I. But you don't care, because I'm the villain. I have to be, otherwise everything you've assigned to me, all the blame you've placed on me becomes null and void. You'll have to face the fact that you're a far worse influence on your own life than I am. You'll have to face the fact that I'm doing something that could better the Empire, and you're trying to stop me."

Lorrik recoiled. "Better the Empire? This is just another selfish Sith attempting to better his station at the expense of others. Everyone thinks the galaxy would be a better place if they were in charge. But that doesn't give you the right to sacrifice and control the lives of others in the name of some greater cause."

"Wake up!" Tash directed. "You think you're any less selfish than me? You think there's no blood on your hands? Every action has consequences. Something Syrosk never came to understand. How many lives have ended or suffered because of your actions? Do you even stop to think about it? Or are you so focused on your endeavors that you push it from your mind? I came to terms with the fact long ago. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made. If a few dozen, or even a few hundred lives must be lost to serve a greater cause then so be it. Others have sacrificed far more for far less in return."

"I understand sacrifice," Lorrik admitted. "I have given up so much, so that I might live a better life, that I might share that life with my partner. But I do not throw away the lives of my fellows for my own sake."

"And that is why you will never amount to anything," Tash declared. "If you're not willing to take necessary action, then you are unfit to call yourself Sith."

"And if you would deny the next generation of Sith their right to exist, then so are you," Lorrik countered.

"My actions are what will allow the next generation to thrive!" Tash replied.

"Oh, of course they will," Lorrik sarcastically stated. "After all, you been nothing but unselfish thus far, why would that change after earning a position of power?"

"You still think this is about me?" Tash muttered before releasing a low chuckle. "I'm no immortal. As I grow older, I know my days are numbered. But whereas my master left me with nothing more than a life of pain and misery, I intend on leaving the tools to create a new age of Sith."

"You mean…"

"That's right. When I said the vaults' contents would be consolidated under a single individual, I didn't mean myself. No, that will fall to someone who has already surpassed me in strength and skill. My favored apprentice."

"Vai," Lorrik muttered.

"I realized long ago that I had reached my limit. There was little room for improvement, and all that was left was the slow decline that would end in my death. Even now, I'm older than most Dark Councilors. There's nowhere left for me to go, but my apprentice still has his youth, and with his inheritance will be able to enact the change Syrosk and I never could. But in order for my plan to succeed, I need the contents of every vault, and I cannot allow you or your allies to stand in my way!"

Before he could speak, Lorrik found another stream of Force lightning surging his way from the Darth's free hand. The inquisitor reaffirmed his guard, placing the blade of his lightsaber between himself and the bolts of electricity. The arcs crackled and danced upon the beam of plasma as Lorrik attempted to keep the assault under control. Disengaging his own weapon, Tash thrust his second hand forward, hurling more and more lightning toward the younger Human. The blue bolts lashed out, occasionally arcing free of the inquisitor's lightsaber, striking the nearby floor in a brilliant display of sparks. The energy was fast becoming too much to handle, and Lorrik was unable to keep the steady stream of electricity bound to his weapon's blade. The Force lightning traveled, up and down the beam of plasma, into the polished hilt at its base, passing through each connected component before finally igniting the saber's power cell.

Lorrik's lightsaber exploded in his right hand, embroiling it in a quick burst of energy and metallic shards. As Tash ceased his onslaught of lightning, the inquisitor was left clutching his seared hand, slivers of shattered hilt imbedded in his right palm. The glove that previously covered his digits had been completely blown off, leaving the blackened flesh visible to the younger Human's naked eye. Blackened from two sources. After recovering from the initial shock, the inquisitor realized that he felt no pain in his right hand, even as he stared at the burns and shards of metal buried in his flesh.

The inquisitor was left in a stupor, trying to consolidate the simultaneous feelings of dismay and relief, of pain and numbness, of curiosity and misunderstanding. But regardless of how he felt, the apprentice quickly realized that he was now without a weapon. His lightsaber had been obliterated before his very eyes, leaving nothing but fractured crystal and hilt fragments on the floor. He knew he had to do something. He had no weapon with which to attack or defend. Would he have to barter for his life? Should he try to trick Tash? Could he continue to fight through the Force alone? As time seemed to slow to a crawl and the inquisitor weighed his options, he heard a whisper in the back of his mind.

"Lorrik," Jresh's voice entered his head. He thought to look toward where he lay, but didn't want to draw attention to the fallen Pureblood.

"Are you okay?" Lorrik mentally shot back.

"Worry about yourself," Jresh calmly replied. "Things aren't looking too good."

"I noticed."

"You know how when we're in trouble, you usually think of something that for all intents and purposes shouldn't work, but somehow miraculously does?" Jresh mentally asked.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything this time around."

"Well, I might."

A thought entered the inquisitor's mind. Not one of his own, but one offered by his companion. The warrior had a plan, or rather, an idea. Lorrik had his objections, his protests, but he knew that their options were limited. But in order for it to work, he'd have to make sure Tash couldn't retaliate. The inquisitor looked to his opponent, noticing his breathing to be heavy than before, that last attack taking more out of him than either had previously thought.

Lorrik steadied himself, straightening out his almost buckling legs, left hand still clutching his right wrist. With a deep breath, the inquisitor stood as tall as his failing body would allow.

"You call that lightning?" Lorrik taunted.

Darth Tash offered the stern arch of his brow alongside a firm scowl. The elder Human had grown tired of the inquisitor, and was ready to put a permanent end to his involvement. Raising both hands, the Darth made sharp clawing movements with his fingers, before a heavy stream of Force lightning leapt from their tips. In the fraction of time it took the crackling bolts of energy to close in of the younger Human, Lorrik maneuvered his right hand to intercept. The lightning connected with his fingertips and the dark energy crackled and arced across the entirety of his hand.

Lorrik could feel the surge of electricity flow into his fingers and palm, but it brought with it no pain, only the sights and sounds of seared flesh. The inquisitor had only intended to endure the destructive energies, but without his knowledge, he had begun to absorb it. The Force lightning not only connected with, but sunk into his skin as if conducted by the spot's previously cracked and blackened marks. Lorrik kept his hand raised as the Darth summoned more and more electricity toward the inquisitor. The energy would touch his right hand, arcing across his flesh as if frantically searching for something to cling to.

The energies circulating his hand grew wilder and wilder, until they could no longer be contained. The lightning bounced and arced further down the inquisitor's arm, carrying with it the wracked patterns that had previously only graced his palm and fingertips. The paleness, the numbness, the seared and cracked flesh slowly crept up Lorrik's arm, going from wrist, to forearm, to elbow. More lightning came and the younger Human would continue to absorb it. But unable to properly contain and control the dark energies, he could only subconsciously diffuse it. As the lightning crept further up the inquisitor's arm, it flayed whatever clothes stood in its way, ripping the sleeve off of the Human's robes as crispy flinders slowly floated to the floor.

The onslaught of Force lightning finally came to an end with the inquisitor possessing scarred flesh all the way past his shoulder, spreading to the right side of his chest and back. Half of the younger Human's robes had been ripped, torn, and deposited in the form of ash as his feet, leaving the other half lightly hanging from his left shoulder. Much of the inquisitor's right arm had been burnt by the stream of electricity, but plainly visible running up the entirety of the limb were what appeared to be black cracks, splitting and rejoining numerous times across the Human's damaged flesh.

Tash's hands dropped to his side, the Darth visibly exhausted as he drew more and more labored breaths. As he focused his gaze on the inquisitor, he marveled at the fact that he had not been reduced to a scorched corpse. Instead, he stood as he had moments prior, upright, baring a blackened arm that had managed to absorb the entirety of his assault.

"My turn," Lorrik muttered. Raising his burnt, blackened hand, the inquisitor contorted his digits into a clawing motion as electricity arced between his fingertips. Focusing the entirely of his body, mind, and spirit, the younger Human channeled whatever he could into his next attack. Then, in an instant, a sharp bolt of lightning leapt from the inquisitor's scarred hand. The blue bolt of electricity surged across the chamber, and struck the Darth directly in the chest. The energy pierced Tash's breastplate, wracking the flesh beneath as it spread from its point of impact to harm the rest of his torso.

Lorrik had endured the entirety of the lightning thrown at him, but he had neither the skill or capacity to store it, let alone redirect it. What he offered in his attack was his and his alone, a furious bolt called forth from every emotion the inquisitor could muster, every feeling, every desire, consolidating into a single blow. The younger Human watched as Tash stood motionless and silent, until he finally release a low chortle.

"You call that lightning?" Tash taunted, no worse for wear. "I was electrocuted daily by my master. You honestly believed that pitiful display enough to harm me?"

"If lightning won't work," Lorrik whispered. "How 'bout some thunder?"

Tash barely had enough time to raise an eyebrow before Jresh had launched himself toward the exhausted Darth. His weapon holstered, his energy spent, there was nothing for the elder Human to do as the warrior barreled toward him with a furious charge, eyes growing wide as the red blur approached.

The inquisitor was weak, exhausted, but not spent. For all he had mustered to conjure a bolt of lightning, he was willing to give just enough more. Hands outstretched, Lorrik used what little remained within him to push his partner forward, bolstering the unstoppable warrior's advance. Jresh was one with himself, one with his companion, one with the Force. Every fiber of his being pulsed with unseen energies, fueling every motion he took, ensuring nothing could stand in his way.

In the briefest of moments, Jresh experienced a deep clarity almost beyond his own comprehension. A thought entered his mind, a thought provided not by his own brain or anyone else's. A thought pulled from the Force, that drove him toward one singular point. One he could exploit. One he could shatter.

Time slowed to a crawl for the Pureblood, completely stopping as he neared his target. Whereas before, his senses would be bolstered, able to perceive the most insignificant of events around him, this time, it was the opposite. Everything faded from the warrior's mind. He could not hear the sounds of battle. He could not taste the sweat and blood upon his lips. He could not feel the pain threatening to consume his body. His senses had abandoned him in favor of concentrating on a single point in space and time. One planted directly in front of him.

Jresh pushed off his final step as he found himself directly in front of Tash, releasing all the energy he had gathered, all the strength he held within him in a single blow. The warrior crashed himself into the Darth's chest, crushing the elder Human's torso before his entire frame was lifted off the ground. Jresh and Tash were airborne, the Pureblood's immense momentum sending them flying across the chamber, still in contact with one another as they surged past the chamber's boundaries, past the jagged edge of the wounded floor, past the threshold of the building's interior. The pair flew across the open skies of Coruscant for an instant, before impacting against the adjacent skyscraper. The exterior wall cracked and cratered at the point of impact, the nearby windows shattering, but the pair did not breached the wall. Instead, they sat for a moment embedded in the crumbling exterior before gravity took hold of them, sending them both plummeting toward the walkway below.

The entire ordeal had transpired in a flash, leaving the inquisitor staring wide-eyed at what had just happened. Lorrik watched as his opponent and companion began to fall, and wanted to do everything in his power to stop it. Unfortunately he had no power left. Everything had been drained from him. The infinite source that had allowed his body to be pushed beyond its limits had ceased offering its boon. The inquisitor tried to take a single step, but was unable. Every part of the Human's body was either aching or numb. And before he could think of how to proceed, his legs gave out from underneath him, sending him crumbling to the floor. Flat upon his back, Lorrik was forced to stare at the ceiling as he quickly lost control of his body.

Outside, Tash and Jresh fell toward the hard surface a dozen levels beneath them. The Darth was limp, making no movements or protests as he fell like a rock toward the walkway below. Jresh however, retained a bit more control. The exteriors of the two buildings were both beyond his reach. With nothing to grab onto, the Pureblood could only slow his descent by channeling the Force. Unfortunately, his previous exertion had left him drained. He did what he could, focused his mind, releasing whatever waves he could muster to cushion his fall. The loud thud that accompanied his landing indicated he was less that successful. Jresh struck the surface of the walkway, and Tash did the same soon after. The two Sith laid on the cold, metallic surface, utterly motionless.

Time passed. Whether it was mere seconds or minutes, none of the combatants possessed an adequate means of knowing. The sounds of the invasion continued to echo throughout the city streets, fighters and bombers howling overhead as they made their way to their objectives.

"My… -ord," an electronic voice crackled from somewhere on the Darth's body. The communicator clipped to Tash's belt had been all but shattered, blinking and sputtering its technological death throes. "Targ-…-quired. What a-… orders?"

"My Lor-…" another voice interrupted the channel. "Another… already here." The voices continued to emanated from the battered communicator, some speaking of success, some speaking of complications. All seeking the words of their master. Words not provided.

Finally, there was motion on the walkway. Tash shifted from his position, coughing up blood as he rolled upon his back. His entire body shivered as he was unable to properly right himself. Rolling onto his side, the Darth placed his hands upon the ground, struggling to push himself up off the cold surface, only to find his efforts unsuccessful. Tash's arms collapsed beneath his own weight, planting his face against the hard floor of the walkway. The elder Human released a series of raspy wheezes as he carefully breathed through his failing lungs. Slowly, he tried again, planting his hands upon the ground, moving his knees between his torso and the cold surface.

The Darth staggered to his feet, stumbling and almost falling numerous times before finally resembling an upright stance. Reaching to his belt, Tash cusped the remains of the communicator in his hand, only for it to unravel the moment he unclipped it. The casing and electronic bits separated and fell to the ground, the crackled voices of the Darth's underlings permanently silenced. The Human released a low grumble between coughing fits as he struggled to maintain his upright stance.

A series of scratches and thuds sounded behind the Darth. Turning around, Tash saw the Pureblood stirring from the floor, slowly picking himself up off the ground. The warrior braced himself against his fists, rolling onto his knees as he struggled to right himself. Wasting no time, the Darth drew and ignited his saber. Standing over the half-risen Pureblood, the elder Human offered no taunts, no words of wisdom or pride. He merely lifted his red blade, intent on driving through the meddlesome warrior.

But as the beam of plasma made its haggard descent, it was batted away by the warrior's armored fist. The black gauntlet than encased Jresh's hand and forearm withstood the blade's immense heat, and the force of the blow was enough to release the Darth's grip on his weapon. The lightsaber flew from Tash's grasp, flying over the walkway's railing and plummeting to the urban abyss below.

"You have no idea… the mistake you're making," Tash struggled to vocalize. All he could do was watch as Jresh stood to his feet, his own body failing him. "This was the chance… to make a difference. Those artifacts… are worthless in your hands. You have no connections. In the Empire… you're only as capable as your superiors."

"I have no superiors," Jresh declared.

"Then you… are nothing," Tash countered.

The Pureblood stared his opponent down. Both of them were at the breaking point. Their bodies, minds, and spirits were at their limits. Neither was capable of calling upon the Force. But the warrior didn't need it. All he needed was one more hit.

Pulling his fist back, Jresh released a wide, powerful blow against the Darth's cheek with his fist, sending him spiraling to the ground where he would never move again.

It was finally over. The warrior's hands dropped to his side, limp, exhausted. His legs began to shake. His vision began to blur. He had spent his last bit of energy. The Pureblood was frozen in place, unable to act, unable to move. Before he could even try, his legs buckled, sending him crumbling to the ground beside a defeated Tash.

Lying upon his back, the Pureblood could only watch as he saw an Imperial shuttle approach their position. The vessel hovered above the Siths' heads before touching down in a clearing further down the walkway. The warrior's vision was fading, large periods of time passing with each blink of his eyes. The shuttle docked in the adjacent plaza. Blink. A lone figure emerged, garbed in a vibrant red coat. Blink. The figure held a hand to his master's neck, checking the Darth's pulse. Blink. The figure stood over the warrior as his vision finally went black, fading to unconsciousness.

Lorrik opened his eyes to find a lone figure standing over him. A Human only ten years his elder, garbed in a vibrant red coat. As Tash's apprentice looked down upon him, Lorrik gazed upwards into his unmarred, unsullied visage. Vai Thorel stood resolute, not displaying a single sign of exhaustion.

"You are persistent, I'll give you that," Thorel calmly stated. As the inquisitor came to, he was still weak, still unable to move from his spot. He was completely at the mercy of the standing Sith. The younger Human's lips began to quiver and contort, eager to release some sound, but no words came. "If you're wondering, your partner's over there, next to your master."

"T…Tash…" Lorrik managed to utter.

The older Human hesitated. "He's gone," Thorel stoically said. "But don't worry. I don't plan on killing you so long as you don't give me a reason to. If you and your master have gotten this petty vengeance business out of your systems, there's no reason to oppose one another. Ikton and I will pick up where Tash left off. You helped the acolytes of your own accord, so I'm sure you've no objections to our goals. Though why you felt the need to go through so much trouble in such a roundabout manner, I'll never know."

"Tash wasn't going to help the students… he was going keep all the artifacts… give them to you…" Lorrik explained through bated breaths. "They were tools… whose purpose was to elevate you and you alone. He didn't care about these students… he was willing to sacrifice them for the sake of the next generation… the next generation you would have a hand in shaping."

"Did he tell you that?" Thorel calmly asked, straddling the line between belief and disbelief. The older apprentice let out a heavy sigh. "That would explain a lot."

Thorel extended a hand, offering to help the inquisitor up. The younger Human struggled to lift his left arm, but eventually he raised to the point where the coated figure could grasp ahold. Thorel effortlessly raised Lorrik to his feet, but he would not be able to stay there of his own accord. Wrapping the inquisitor's arm around the back of his neck, the older apprentice supported the bulk of the younger one's weight upon his shoulder.

He began leading the injured inquisitor across the chamber. Looking ahead, Lorrik could see Syrosk and Jresh leaning against a nearby wall, resting. Unless the inquisitor had been unconscious for far longer than he'd thought, Thorel must have carried the warrior back up to the vault chamber.

"You want to know Tash's most closely guarded secret?" Thorel asked as he carefully supported the limping inquisitor. "It wasn't the fact that he associated with aliens, or his operations within the Academy. It was the fact that he was in debt. That was the legacy left to him by his master. When he died, he ensured Tash would never have to stop working a day in his life. When he was younger, he sought to climb through the ranks, put his past behind him. But he couldn't. He had inherited something that would follow him to his grave. Every trick, every ploy, every battle fought was intended to chip away at that debt. But the world of a Sith is a tricky one. You can't operate alone. And assistance is rarely given freely. Everyone expects something in return. So as the years went by, the debt stayed. It meant he no longer had control over his own life. But the items in these vaults? They could finally wipe away the debt and then some. With no more ties to the other Lords, he believed we could finally stop mucking about from the shadows, fearing whatever retaliation every action would bring. I never knew the extent of my master's debt, but I knew it was the only thing he feared, because he knew it would eventually transfer to me. I would be just as shackled as he was. All he ever wanted was to be free. Though now, I suppose he was more concerned with me than himself. He wanted me to be the one who could do all the things he couldn't. Earn a place amongst the Sith, one capable of influencing them without constantly looking over my shoulder as he was forced to."

Thorel carefully unwrapped the inquisitor's arm from around his neck, and lowered him back to the floor, propping him against the wall beside his resting companion.

"But we're always looking over our shoulders, aren't we?" Thorel continued. "Indebted or not, a Sith cannot interact with his surroundings without drawing the ire of another. Every cause has its effect. Every action its consequence. If Tash was willing to sacrifice his students to retrieve the contents of these vaults, these uncontested, relatively unknown vaults, how much sacrifice will be called for to truly make a difference in the Empire? I believe the Sith Order needs to change, but I don't believe I am capable of bringing about those changes. Or rather, I'm not willing to do what's necessary. There's only one sacrifice I'm willing to make."

Reaching to his belt, Thorel retrieved an intact communicator and held it to his mouth.

"This is Vai Thorel speaking on all channels. Darth Tash is no more. As his apprentice, I am assuming command. All pilots, prepare for departure. Your orders are to deliver the acolytes and spoils to the compound on Dromund Kaas. Those with contested targets are ordered to stand down, leave the items behind and instead provide transport for the surviving students."

Thorel disengaged the comm, returning it to his belt.

"You know where the artifacts and students are heading, do with them as you wish," Thorel declared. "Ikton will be able to let you in."

"What are you going to do?" Lorrik asked.

"Nothing. I'm going to do what no other Sith is capable of. Walk away," Thorel admitted.

"But what about Tash's debt?"

"Since Ikton isn't his official apprentice, it will fall entirely onto me," Thorel explained. "I'll absorb the burdens of the past. The burdens of the future, I'll leave those in your hands."

"You don't have to do this," Lorrik softly stated.

"We don't have to do anything. But the fact that we get the choice is what makes us Sith."