Chapter XXX - Lord Vashcar Arrives
The next morning, I went to my office to think over how I wanted to train Ashara. I did not like how I was trained at the Korriban Academy, and I wanted to do it better for my apprentice. Ashara was hesitant about the idea, which I could sense, and I felt that moving slowly would be helpful. There were certain elements of Sith training that I thought she needed, like combat techniques, but I wanted to include some of her normal routines so she felt comfortable. After getting my ideas together, I invited Ashara into my office and initiated some morning exercises based on her Jedi technique. She went back to her room to fetch her E-stims and slipped them over her dark blue yoga pants onto her thighs, handing me the second set. I chose to work out my upper arms and slid the E-stims over them to just under my black T-shirt sleeves, struggling a bit to get the right one over my cybernetic glove. When I turned them on, I could feel the strange sensation of the muscles flexing impulsively. We stretched and exercised for about an hour. Afterward, we meditated in the Force using our lightsabers as I showed her the evening before. Ashara was still frustrated by not getting results, and after trying for some time we put the lightsabers away and meditated Jedi style. We took a break and I relaxed in my office, trying to find another book to read.
Ashara made lunch for us, Andronikos included, and we ate and talked in the kitchen. Khem Vaal reported in from the cult, stating that they had found several informants and disposed of them. I did not ask him how he discovered them or what disposal meant, but I could tell by the hologram that he seemed pleased, and that told me enough. After lunch, things grew complicated. I wanted to lay out my plans for a new training routine with Ashara, and I was explaining to her that I wanted us to work on the three standard combat techniques taught by the Sith.
"I understand that you were being taught to fight a certain way by the Jedi, but now I want you to focus on a better way."
"Why is your way better?" she asked in frustration.
"Dweep-click," Pez chimed in seeming agreement with Ashara. He drifted gently between us, his red eye narrowing.
"You aren't striking the proper posture for an apprentice," I complained. "Can't you just do as I say? Also, you're supposed to address me as master before you speak."
"I thought that was only in public?"
"No," I corrected, "if you wish to speak informally, request to do so, but only in private."
"Can we speak informally," she asked quickly.
"Fine," I muttered.
"You said that you wouldn't teach me how to be a Sith."
"I'm not. Teaching you a technique is not the same as altering your principles. I've done your Jedi meditation for almost a week now and it hasn't magically turned me into a Jedi."
"That's different," she complained.
"How so?"
"What you're asking me to do just doesn't seem right," she sighed. "The Jedi teach that acting aggressively is wrong, that combat should only be used as a last resort, and that killing blows should be avoided."
I stared at her hard for a moment. "Do you understand how stupid that sounds?" I snapped, unable to control my exasperation.
"It's not stupid!" she bristled, her cream-colored lekku twitching at her sides.
"I'll give you at least three reasons why it is not only stupid but impractical. One, you can't dictate the outcome of a conflict that way. Conflict devolves to the lowest common denominator, not the highest, meaning that if your opponent wishes to escalate to lethal force, you must do the same or you will die. Two, any blow with a lightsaber can be lethal, especially in the heat of combat. There is no way to engage a violent enemy without the risk of a mortal blow. Are the Jedi arguing that you have done evil by accident if an opponent ducks and gets his head removed rather than the arm you were aiming for? Lastly, if you enter combat with the limitations you just described, you have given your opponent a great advantage. You can't possibly think that an opponent, like the Sith, won't use those vary limitations to their advantage. All three of those points prove that the Jedi training is wrong, ineffective, and stupid."
"Doo-ooh," Pez sounded as he realized we were arguing.
I should not have added the last sentence. The words were harsh and Ashara stiffened in frustration and looked away from me. We had not gotten more than half a day into her apprenticeship before we hit an immovable wall. Irritation made me fidgety and I had to get up and walk away from her. I felt like this was a critical moment, that I needed to break through the resistance within her or the whole apprentice experience would be pointless. Determined, I walked over to the desk and picked up my lightsaber, spending a moment looking at the black and red hilt.
"I think a demonstration of those points is in order," I stated solemnly. "Take your lightsaber out. I challenge you to a duel."
"What?" Ashara said in surprise.
"Dweep!" Pez screeched in equal surprise, shaking his frame back and forth.
"You heard me. Get up and prepare to duel."
"I don't want to fight," she complained.
"Biz-click-duooh," Pez sounded harshly, puffing his thrusters in agitation near my head.
"Enough!" I snapped at him. "Back off and be silent or I will shut you down."
Pez reluctantly drifted away, still watching me with a narrowed eye.
Ashara stood up then, her eyes growing angry and frustrated. "I'm not going to fight you," she said with a tight voice. "I don't want to, and you're not healthy. What about your hand?"
"My condition is not relevant. When a Sith challenges you to a duel, it is insulting and humiliating to refuse."
"I don't want to hurt you," she added.
"Good, then the duel won't last long and I will win."
She stiffened again, the hint of confidence and ego glimmering in her eye. "Fine," she snipped as she reached for her lightsaber. "What are the rules for a Sith duel?"
I moved into the open area of the room. "Fight like your life depends on it - because at some point, it will. Do not let up until your opponent yields, respect them with your best. The duel is there to teach, and it can't do that if inadequacies are covered up or excused. Avoid permanent damage or death. No one learns anything by being dead."
"You just said that you cannot avoid lethal blows," she quipped.
"Don't be obtuse," I jibed back. "When both participants are bound by the same rules, excessive violence should be avoided. That is far different from open combat with a hostile enemy. Your lightsaber in duel mode is basically an electrocution stick that hurts but can't be used to kill. If you can't control the lethality of a Force skill then don't use it."
Ashara stoically stepped over to a place opposite me. I wanted to test the cybernetic glove and reached to turn the pain blocking down, flinching when pain rushed through my system.
"Why are we doing this?" Ashara asked in frustration, noticing my pain.
I put my hand up to stop her. "Do not question me again, apprentice," I warned. "This duel is as important for me as it is for you. I must know my true capabilities, injured or not. I suggest you center yourself and prepare in the Force."
I took my own suggestion and willed the Force into me, at the same time trying to block out the pain radiating from my arm. The glove activated, red indicator lights blinking in a pattern down the cuff and onto my fingers. I placed the hilt of my saber in the glove's palm and focused hard on the fingers until they closed over it. They complied, but the grip felt loose and insecure. Sensing it was as good as it could get, I turned my focus to Ashara. She had closed her eyes and was meditating. In the Force, I could sense her presence building. I lifted my lightsaber up before me and ignited it with a fumbling effort from my cybernetic thumb, then focused on the blade to prepare for battle. I heard Ashara's weapon ignite opposite me and glanced her way. She was standing with her eyes closed, waiting. Pez hovered off to the side with his red eye wide, seemingly unsure how the event about to happen had come about. I let the hum of my weapon and the flicker of the blade draw the Force to my will.
When I felt prepared, I surged my Force aura toward Ashara, seeking to find her boundaries. It was the first time we would challenge each other in the Force, having our auras clash in opposition rather than in peaceful meditation. Ashara sensed my presence and pushed back against me, giving me a glimpse of her apprehension and frustration, but also her determination. Strangely, the ghost of Kalatosh Zavros welled up inside me, curious to see his descendant fight me. Ashara and I struggled against each other in the Force, a sort of silent, motionless battle of wills. Then, it started.
"Begin," I said flatly as I took a step toward her.
She stood her ground with her weapon raised, not wanting to take the initiative, so I attacked. It only took one hard contact for my weapon to flip out of the glove, its pinkish-red blade disappearing in mid-air as the fail-safe triggered, and the hilt tumbled across the floor. I stepped back in surprise, but Ashara did not attack.
That angered me. "I told you not to let up."
"Please stop," she urged. "It's not a fair fight."
I put out my right hand to call the hilt back to me, struggling to focus on a Force pull that would not manifest. The cybernetic clove was interfering with my Force skills through that hand. Frustrated, I switched to my left hand and pulled the weapon back to me. "You disrespect me," I stated angrily.
"No," she answered.
"You underestimate my capabilities," I added, sticking the hilt back into my gloved hand and igniting the blade again.
"Please stop," she said sadly.
I attacked again, and at her ancestor's urging, feigned with my lightsaber before Force pushing her in the chest. The blow caught her unprepared and sent her tumbling backward. I rushed her, slashing with my lightsaber, but she blocked my blows and struggled to her knees.
"You have neglected your ward," I stated.
Ashara blocked a few more attacks and then knocked my lightsaber out of my hand again. She slashed at me, striking me in the hip and sending a jolt of pain through me. At the same time, I Force pushed her again and knocked her backward onto the floor. She rose quickly and brought her lightsaber to ready. The glove was useless, and I called my weapon back to my left hand and ignited it. She came at me then, and we dueled sharply. I could keep a grip on the lightsaber with my good hand at least, but was not well-practiced left-handed and had trouble keeping up with her. Ashara was good with the lightsaber. She had excellent control and anticipation, landing another good hit on my upper arm before I could back her off with another Force push.
Ashara's Force presence surged as she came at me again, and I sensed that she was trying to end the duel quickly. I tried to stand toe-to-toe with her, but she had better control than I could manage with my left hand, and she cut my leg with a slash and knocked me to the floor.
"Yield," she said as she pointed her lightsaber at my face.
Angry at my failed lightsaber skills, I lashed out with another Force push. She tried to block it with her ward but again got pushed back, giving me enough time to get up. I could not beat her with my lightsaber, but I could not lose either, or my efforts to be her master would always be marred. So, I switched my weapon to my useless hand and took a step toward her. She raised her saber and stepped toward me, feeling confident. Her ancestor sensed my thought to use Force lightning and sprung it on the fingers of my left hand before I willed it myself. Reaching out, I sent the bluish-purple streams of energy at her. Ashara caught the first part of the lightning on her blade ward, which surprised me, but with the Force, everything was a battle of wills. I turned my hand slightly and sent the lightning around her blade, and her ward was not adequate to protect her. She cried out as the forks of energy danced across her side and arm.
The ghost inside me wanted to teach a lesson, eager to temper his descendant to the dangers of the Force, so he surged the lightning out of me stronger than I would have chosen, eliciting a scream from Ashara and sending her writhing to the floor. It made me worry about who was in control, and I rushed forward to knock my apprentice's lightsaber from her hand to end the duel.
"Stop," she cried out, "I yield."
The lightning was gone in an instant, the ghost of her ancestor satisfied that he had made his point, and I stood over her still shaking form with my lightsaber lowered at her. I worked the gloved thumb clumsily to shut off my weapon and then clipped it to my side. It was a fumbling, harsh duel that exposed us both, and I reached out my hand to help my apprentice up. A flash of anger burst across Ashara's eyes when she noticed me, and she rolled away to a kneeling position, checking her arm and side where the lightning struck.
Pez drifted over quickly and put himself between us defensively. "Click-zwip-buzz-twibble," he sounded out sharply.
"Don't question me, droid," I countered.
Ashara stood up, collected her weapon, and shot me an even angrier glare before walking toward the door.
"Ashara," I called after her but she stepped through the door and was gone.
I had half a mind to pursue her, not wanting her to stew over what just happened. The Sith duel was severe and uncomfortable and was something I had endured countless times during my training. Initially, acolytes suffered defeat after defeat until they learned to adapt and fight properly, and I was no exception. The part of me hoping for friendship urged hesitation, however, sensing that Ashara felt betrayed by my actions. I realized then how difficult keeping a friendship between a master and apprentice might be. Reluctantly, I decided to let her be and went to the Intrepid to apply some ointment to my wounds. I slipped the tube into my satchel for later use before going to my room to sulk. The afternoon went by without any sign from Ashara, and that evening I wandered down to the penthouse to see where she was. There was no sign of her and when I questioned Andronikos, he said she had left on her walk. I ate some leftovers in the kitchen and then went to my office to read. Later, when it was getting close to bedtime, I finally got up and went to confront my apprentice. She was in her room, sitting at the desk, and seemed surprised when the door swished open and I stepped in. Giving me an angry look, she went back to flicking through her tablet. I stepped in a little way and heard the door swish closed behind me.
"Chirp-blip-blip-tweet," Pez whined while drifting closer to me.
I ignored him and watched Ashara. "You forgot to invite me on your walk," I stated.
She did not respond.
"You can speak informally," I suggested, wondering if that was keeping her silent. "I brought a topical ointment in case you needed it," I added, taking another step toward her.
She still ignored me.
"We didn't talk about how the duel went."
"I don't want to talk about it," she finally responded with a sharp glance over her shoulder.
"It's standard practice so that lessons are learned when the experience is fresh in participants' minds."
"I don't want to learn anything from it," she muttered.
"Ashara," I called out to her.
"Don't Ashara me!" she snapped, spinning in her chair toward me with angry eyes. "I don't want to do this anymore . . . don't want to be your apprentice."
I purposely forced myself to pause, not wanting my angry side to make things worse. "That's a shame," I replied calmly, "I was just going to express my appreciation for how well you dueled me earlier. My first time in a Sith duel didn't go nearly as well." She remained glaring at me and I thought for a moment of another way to diffuse her emotions. "You got me pretty good several times," I added while looking at the mark on my upper arm.
"You deserved it," she replied tersely, still glaring but her eyes seemed less angry.
"In a duel, your opponent usually does," I replied.
"That's not what I mean . . . you hit me with lightning!" she snapped.
"I did, and it was impressive that you caught some of it on your blade at first." She sat sulking, her eyes not looking at me. "It was your ancestor's idea," I added.
"Ancestor?" she asked in surprise.
"Yeah," I answered, sitting on the edge of her bed. "It seems he wanted you to experience the dangers of it first-hand."
"I don't believe you," she huffed, her eyes looking away from me. "You said that you couldn't speak to them," she added after a pause.
"Most of the time, I can't," I agreed. "He forced himself into my mind. I got the sense that he had an interest in his progeny's training."
Ashara looked back at me with a strange look in her eye. "If he cared, why would he want to hurt me with lightning?"
"Because he knows that Force lightning is one of the most dangerous skills, especially for Jedi who might not come up against it very often. Force lightning can quickly immobilize you and make you defenseless. He sensed your lack of warding and wanted to teach you an important lesson."
Ashara turned away and we sat in silence for a moment.
"Let me see your side," I asked.
"Don't worry about it," she grumbled.
"Come here," I urged.
Ashara looked at me and contemplated a moment before getting up and walking over to me. She had changed into an evening outfit, a loose-fitting, silky nightshirt, and a pair of colorful harem pants. The shirt left a little of her waist exposed and I could see some darker blemishes on her crimson skin. Reaching my hand out I lifted the hem of the shirt slightly to expose a pattern of purple marks where the lightning had burned her. She tugged the hem out of my fingers and stepped back from me.
"Let me put this on," I said, pulling the ointment out of my satchel.
She reached out and plucked the tube from my hand. "I can do it," she muttered before walking back and sitting down at her desk.
"I'm sorry that you are upset," I replied after watching her rubbing the ointment gently on her burns. "I don't want you to be mad at me."
She glanced over at me but said nothing.
"I could be just as mad at you," I added, growing frustrated by her victimhood.
"No, you can't," she snipped. "You wanted to fight me."
"I had to," I answered, "it's my responsibility. It is the way Sith train. I need to understand both our limits and test you to advance your training. We should duel daily as part of our routine."
"No, thank you," she muttered, shifting to rub some ointment on her arm.
"You had to fight as part of your Jedi training," I asserted.
"Not like that," she countered, "not angry and violent like you did."
"Oh, so Jedi just bow to each other and then tap swords back and forth a few times before bowing politely again. I'm sure that kind of 'sparing' is really helpful."
"Stop it!" she snapped in frustration. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
"Right, and neither do you."
Her eyes flared as they glanced my way. "I know evil when I see it."
I stood quickly, holding back from storming up to her. My frustration was at the boiling point. "You know nothing," I countered. "Different doesn't equal evil. Just because you aren't used to something doesn't automatically make it wrong. I've participated in some of your training activities and not passed judgment on them, even though they felt awkward or pointless. You need to open up to new things, and it's my job to develop your skill, despite how much that discomforts you. I told you that I would not corrupt your ways, and you need to trust me on that."
She didn't respond, looking away from me at her tablet.
My anger was swelling, and I had to stop talking before saying something that worsened things. I turned around and walked toward the door, stopping when it swished open in front of me. "I don't want to force you to do something you don't like, but we need to continue training together," I said with a measured voice, keeping my frustration at bay. She did not answer me, and I left annoyed.
Doctor Ragenstaub arrived early the next morning. Andronikos answered the door and contacted me in the Intrepid that she was there. I was up, having known she would arrive early, but was trying to finish getting dressed. Ashara had stayed in her room last night and I was feeling a little agitated, not just from our argument, but due to the ghosts drifting into my dreams as well. Feeling rushed, I finished dressing in my comfort clothes, the same ones I had worn on Taris, and quickly pulled my hair into its usual ponytail. Making my way down to the penthouse, I found Andronikos talking with the doctor at the kitchen bar. He had gotten her a hot drink and was bragging about some exploit he had experienced. I got the sense he was flirting with her, and based on her smile I could only assume she liked it. When they noticed me, the doctor got up quickly and took another sip of her drink before following me toward my office. She set her case down on my desk and took another sip of her drink, turning to look into my eyes thoughtfully. Then she set her mug down and opened her case, this time only pulling out a hypo-syringe.
"The team is pretty excited about this dose," she explained. "It's the first time we've incorporated a pain blocker into the microbot functions."
She raised the hypo-syringe toward my upper arm and I put up my hand quickly. "Hold on," I said. "Are you telling me that I'm the first person getting this treatment?"
"Well, this will be the first time that the treatment includes pain relief, but there have been many patient trials with the microbots."
"Successful trials?" I added.
Doctor Ragenstaub gave me an appraising look. "Every patient's circumstance is different," she hedged, "but no one has been adversely affected by the treatment yet." It wasn't a ringing endorsement, but I offered my arm to her anyway. The injection was quick and I did not feel anything except some pressure on my upper arm. The doctor put the hypo-syringe away and sat down next to me. "I am not scheduled to return to Dromund Kaas for another couple of days, and I will be monitoring your medical data to make sure things are going well. If you have questions or concerns, or if something doesn't feel right, please contact me."
"How long will the pain blocking take to work?"
"I'm not sure, to be honest. Doctor Hursa didn't want the main treatment affected by secondary applications, so he made the dosage of the pain blocker lower than I suggested. I would expect to see results in a few days."
I nodded, not happy to hear that Doctor Hursa was making decisions without consulting me. The doctor reached over and picked up her mug to take another sip. She had her hair up in a twisted bun, accentuating her face and blue eyes, and her cream-colored top and black skirt looked tailored and refined.
Doctor Ragenstaub sensed my appraising eye and flashed me a hint of a smile before taking another sip. "That's it," she stated, holding the warm cup between her hands, "I told you I wouldn't bother you too much."
"In person," I replied, "but you just told me that you would be watching my data. I'm not sure I like the fact that people are observing me. Who else is receiving the data feed from my glove?"
The doctor seemed a little surprised by my concern. "The team on Dromund Kaas is receiving the same data, though I am the primary caregiver on your account, so I don't imagine anyone else would care to look at it. It's only basic medical information."
"Is Imperial Intelligence receiving the same feed?"
Her eyes widened at me. "I have no idea, why would they be?"
"One of their watchers connected me with your institute. I saved him from capture by the Republic on Taris and he returned the favor. Unfortunately, I suspect that there are strings attached."
"I don't know anything about that," she replied. "Our interaction is private and I would never share data with anyone else, except the institute, of course, but you know that. I can see why you might be a little leery about spies having a direct feed to your medical data. That sounds a little creepy."
I studied her while she spoke, reaching out with my Force sense, and did not get the sense she was hiding anything. "Thanks, I was trying to downplay the unease until you said that."
She chuckled. "Like I said, it's only basic medical information, so I can't imagine anyone would be interested in it."
"Does it notify you when I pee?" I asked flatly.
"Excuse me?"
"A particularly irritating Imperial agent implied that he could follow my activities that closely."
"Oh," she replied, a little color blooming on her cheeks. "I suppose if you look at heart rate, BUN levels, oxygenation, and several other indicators you could deduce a person's activities, but it would be a technical process that would need to be done by a medical expert."
"You're not making me feel any better," I complained.
"It's not like the feed has audio, video, or any other body aspect information. It's only numbers. If I had to guess, I would think this agent was teasing you."
"Oh, I'm sure he was," I agreed, pausing to consider how to get Elios back, "but you are implying that someone could analyze my behavior if motivated."
"I can't imagine why anyone would do that, what would be the motivation?" she asked.
"Unfortunately, I'm far more suspicious than you." I stood up and paced away from her. "Anyway, it's not your problem. I appreciate how helpful you have been and that you are easy to work with. If I get the chance, I will let Doctor Hursa know that."
"Thank you so much," she said with a smile as she got up and collected her things.
I showed her out and then went back to the Intrepid. Things seemed quiet through the morning, and I found another novel to read about a Sith girl who fell in love with a Republic agent and converted him, a sort of enemies-to-lovers trope. It was a good distraction for an hour before I began to worry about Ashara and how things were unresolved. I approached her yesterday as a sign of reconciliation, something a Sith master did not normally do for an apprentice, and I did not feel right about pursuing her again. She needed to accept her role and respect me or the dynamics of our commitment would be off. Thankfully, as I tried to ignore my concern and continue reading, Ashara contacted me.
"Yes?" I answered, not waiting for her to talk first because I was concerned that she would not address me properly.
"I was going to make some lunch and wondered if you had eaten . . . Master," she added my title at the end awkwardly.
"Actually, I haven't yet."
"Okay," she replied. "I haven't started cooking 'cause I'm not sure what I want."
"It doesn't matter to me; I'll be down in a minute."
I would have liked it if reconciliation was that simple, and it seemed like it was going to be as Ashara started chatting politely while we cooked and ate lunch. Even Pez acted like nothing was wrong, though I caught him glancing between us now and then, unsure if we were really okay. Things got a little rocky when I suggested we get to work after lunch was cleaned up. I went to my office and Ashara followed me reluctantly.
"I . . . master?" she said, almost forgetting to address me first.
"Yes?"
"I'm still not sure that I can be trained by you," she admitted.
"Oh," I replied flatly, working hard to keep my emotions down. "Well, I guess that I have my work cut out for me then, don't I?"
She did not answer, but she also did not resist when I suggested that we catch up on the morning routine that we had missed. I urged her to lead the training and was not surprised that she went back to her standard Jedi regimen. We exercised and stretched for a while, and then did some Force meditation. The only area where I altered her normal routine was by suggesting that we meditate with our lightsabers, which she seemed okay with. Things were back to normal, and I was tempted to leave it that way, but I knew that we could not stay in this unchallenged mode. If I was to be the proper master, I needed to push her beyond her comfort zone.
"I need to test my hand again, so we will duel."
Ashara froze and Pez puffed his thrusters.
"Zwip-click-click-bleep," the orb sounded out sharply, shaking his narrowed red eye back and forth.
"No . . ." Ashara said before biting her lip, recognizing that she had not addressed me first. Our eyes met and she held me in a steady gaze.
"You can speak candidly," I replied, hoping to diffuse some of her frustration. "I understand you had a problem with the Sith duel, so today we will spar according to your training experience."
Her gaze shifted to one of surprise and then relief. "Okay," she agreed.
"Click-zweep-Bleep," Pez sounded as he backed up, still looking at me with a narrowed eye.
I asked her to show me how she trained at the enclave, asking lots of questions and showing interest in what she was saying. The Jedi at the enclave paired off and sparred with equally skilled opponents. The goal of the sparring was to get the students used to the clash of Force wills that occurred when Force users faced off, and also to train them in the flow of a lightsaber battle, helping them to sense their own balance in the Force and react to another Force user's actions. According to Ashara, Jedi sparring was more about choreographing movements between participants and trying to out-skill your opponent rather than getting in harsh blows.
I turned down my glove's pain blocker, noticing a slight reduction in the pain coming from my arm, and worked to get the cybernetics to grip my lightsaber. We went through her pre-sparring drill and then faced off. We struck blades slowly at first as Ashara explained how she wanted us to test each other, and it was not long before my weapon ended up on the floor. I hated the glove - hated it. In Jedi sparring, when one opponent is disarmed or struck, the other is supposed to back up and let them recover. Ashara did that so that I could collect my weapon. Angrily, I turned the analgesic down some more so that the cybernetics would work better, feeling more pain shoot through my body, and then we sparred again. I lost my weapon again, and then gave up and tried with my left hand.
We sparred the Jedi way until dinner time, and then we went on a walk. Ashara seemed lighter in mood than she was earlier in the day, and I hoped that she was letting go of her fears about me. When we returned to the penthouse, I asked her to meditate with the lightsabers for a little while longer, and she managed to influence Kaal's crystal slightly, making her excited. When bedtime approached, I told her I was going to my room, and she said goodnight. Apparently, I had still not gotten back into her full graces and she would not be doing her Jedi healing technique on my arm.
The next morning, I got a notice that Lord Vashcar was in-system and would be arriving at the penthouse just before noon. Ashara and I tried to focus on our morning routine, but there was anticipation in the air about the visit. Internally, I was pretty anxious. Sparring with Ashara several times had shown me how weak I had become, and it was impossible for a Sith not to compare themselves to another. I did not want to be confronted by a Sith Lord who was more confident and capable than I, and did not want him to recognize my weakness. Unfortunately, fate was forcing that humiliation on me, and I would have to suffer it.
I asked Andronikos to move the Intrepid over on the landing platform so that Lord Vashcar had room to land his ship, and then we all gathered on the rooftop awaiting his arrival when the inbound notice was received. Part of me wanted to hide away in my office and make him come to me, but I realized that was not proper etiquette since I invited him. So, I stood awkwardly with Andronikos, Ashara, and Pez, waiting for his ship to appear in the hazy orange sky. A black speck started coming toward us from some distance, and then breaking thrusters could be heard as the speck turned into a sleek-looking ship. It was a little smaller than the Intrepid, more like the size of the recon ship Ashara and I flew to Quesh in, but it looked more formidable.
The thrusters surged right before the landing struts clanked onto the platform and then the engines began to wind down. After a moment of waiting, the ship's hatch hissed open and a steep ramp slid down to the deck. A darkly robed figure stepped out and down the ramp, and I reached out toward him in the Force with my eyes closed for a moment, feeling the Force presence of Lord Vashcar for the first time. I was surprised by the dense yet placid Force power that he exuded. Most Force users' aura extended and drifted around them in a sort of flux, reacting to the environment and the user's own emotions and motivations. Lord Vashcar's aura was packed closely around his frame and seemed unaffected by his surroundings.
I opened my eyes as he walked up, noticing the confident sway of his swimmer-built frame; tall, broad-shouldered, and narrow athletic hips. A puff of breeze flipped his cloak away from his legs, revealing heavy boots and armored greaves. He is wearing battle armor! my mind registered, and for a moment I grew worried, but he stopped a dozen paces from us and flipped back his hood to reveal an expression of curiosity rather than conflict.
"Hello," he stated in a deep voice. His Sith species orange eyes panned across us standing opposite him.
"Lord Vashcar," I stated confidently, "thank you for coming."
His orange eyes settled on me. "Lord Kallig, it's nice to meet you."
I looked his facial features over quickly. He had the typical cheek and jaw tendrils of his kind, the two largest on either side of his mouth decorated with black metal tubes. Prominent bone ridges jutted out above his eyes and down his narrow nose. Wisps of black hair flicked around his face in the soft breeze, escaped from the main head of hair that started from a widow's peak and was tightly drawn back into a tail behind his head. The hair was interesting, most Sith species males struggled with hair recession and shaved their heads. Other than the hair, Lord Vashcar looked like a typical Sith, which was not to my liking. Glancing over at Ashara, I noticed her concerned look and imagined that she thought he looked evil. To her, it seemed like everything was evil.
"This is my apprentice, Ashara," I stated with a hand gesture toward her, "and this is Andronikos Revel."
"Nice to meet you," he said with a nod to my companions. "I hope your stay on Nar Shaddaa has been recuperative so far."
"It has," I replied. "Do you need assistance with equipment or luggage from your ship?"
"No, I have accommodations aboard that I intend to use if that is acceptable?"
"That is fine by me," I replied, "just let us know if you require anything."
"I could use a power hook-up to your platform and an interior refresh," he added, eyes watching me thoughtfully.
"I'll have my ship's droid see to it right away."
"Excellent, thank you," he answered with a nod.
"You're dressed in battle armor?" I asked as my eyes wandered over the shiny black breastplate peeking out from underneath his cloak.
"Yes, I left a conflict zone right before traveling here."
"Conflict zone?"
"Yes, a rebellion is brewing on Vondarc. The Republic has been formulating insurrection for some time and it is beginning to bubble to the surface. I was sent to evaluate the military situation and got involved in some of the skirmishes."
"Do you want time to rest or would you like to see Darth Thanaton's relic?"
"I've rested enough," he stated, "and I am curious to see the artifact again."
I led the way up the Intrepid's ramp into the ship, stopping to tell Toovee about his task to tend Lord Vashcar's ship before leading on into the conference room. Everyone decided to follow, grouping up just inside the conference room door where Lord Vashcar stopped to stare at my shelf of artifacts.
"Quite a collection," he stated when he finally took a step over to the shelf, his eyes moving down the row of objects with interest. He spent the longest time observing Thanaton's holocron before turning to me. "How did you come by all of them?" he asked.
"I didn't steal them all, if that's what you are implying," I stated defensively. Well, not exactly anyway, my mind added. I walked past him to the corner and pointed at my apprenticeship holocron and several other similar ones. "You should recognize these," I stated, "standard promotional and training cubes. These," I moved down to the next group, "I inherited from Darth Skotia and Zash. Taken from their personal libraries as articles of interest after their demise."
"Would that qualify as stealing," he pondered as his eyes burned into me, "given that you killed both Sith lords?"
"For one," I countered, "I was promoted into their positions, therefore the contents of their offices became mine. Secondly, though I might have been present and even influenced their demise, I did not actively seek to kill either one. Finally, I was personally attacked by both of them and had the right of self-defense."
Lord Vashcar studied me appraisingly for a moment and I sensed my companions looking on nervously. "The next group," he continued, shifting his frame a little more closely to the shelf, "looks more ancient. Where did you acquire them?"
"Darth Zash had me fly around the galaxy hunting Tulak Hord artifacts. These are the result of that effort."
Lord Vashcar reached out and picked up the artifact from Balmorra, a black and gold cube with intricate triangle patterns across its surface. The moment I had feared had arrived as he held the holocron in his palm and focused on it. Would he show me up and work the holocron better than I could? I was only capable of getting the first basic images out of the holocron, depicting writing in a language I did not understand. Orange patterns lit up on the sides of the cube and Lord Vashcar's Force sense activated the hologram to get the first image to appear above the cube. He moved through several other images, getting further than I had, studying the script highlighted on a golden-colored background. He seemed to read several inscriptions slowly before turning the holocron off.
"It is in an ancient script that I am having difficulty reading," he muttered. "It would take some time for me to translate the symbols and get deeper into the artifact. Have you translated them?" His eyes looked from the golden cube to me curiously.
"I was not able to understand the script either," I replied begrudgingly. "Darth Zash seemed to understand it though."
"Do you know why your former master wanted the relics?" His thoughtful eyes focused on me after he set the relic back on the shelf.
To steal my body and banish my soul! my mind thought bitterly. "Just general curiosity as far as I could tell," I lied, "though she did mention several times that she thought great power could be derived from them."
"Tulak Hord was indeed powerful," Lord Vashcar mused. "These artifacts are over fifteen hundred years old and could hold fascinating clues to the origins of the Sith. They are truly remarkable finds and should be studied by the greatest minds in the Empire." I bristled at his suggestion and the longing looks that his eyes were giving the relics. "There is no telling what history, knowledge, and power can be discovered in them."
"I wouldn't mind sharing them with the greatest minds in the Empire," I replied coolly, "so long as I were alive to enjoy the benefits of that philanthropy."
"Your life should not be in jeopardy. Thanaton's attack on you seems a waste of the Empire's resources and lacks a meaningful purpose."
"Tell that to him. These artifacts are my tools of survival at the moment, which is a more pressing issue to me than studying history or furthering the Empire."
He appraised me harshly. "As if anyone should claim ownership of such things."
"Tulak Hord did," I answered sharply, "as did the mists of time that shrouded them and the dangers I overcame to retrieve them."
"Hmm," a sound of disapproval echoed deep in his chest before he focused on the last item on the shelf. Reaching out, Lord Vashcar picked up Thanaton's holocron and held it in his hand. "This one is different," he spoke, eyes focused on the dodecahedron in his palm. I felt him use the Force and the sides began to glow red, revealing the intricate golden inlay patterns on its surface and deeper within. His eyes narrowed as he focused on the relic, but it did not seem as though he could get through the first barrier. Frustrated, he sighed and looked over at me.
"It is locked," he stated. "I looked up references about holocrons in the archives on Dromund Kaas, and I came across several excerpts about oddly shaped holocrons such as this. One excerpt called this relic a Cymetikron, similar to ancient and powerful holocrons the Jedi use called Noetikons. Cymetikrons were not expected or intended to be shared with others and had wards to prevent unwanted access to the knowledge inside."
"That would explain my frustration in trying to use it," I griped.
"Yes," Lord Vashcar said in his deep voice, orange eyes studying me again. "I presume we have no idea where your apprentice found this in Thanaton's residence, or if there was anything to indicate if Thanaton had ever used it."
"That knowledge, unfortunately, passed with my apprentice," I answered. "For all I know, Kaal took it just because he thought it looked valuable."
"It is indeed valuable," Lord Vashcar agreed.
I looked past him at Andronikos and Ashara still standing just inside the doorway. "My hopes for a simple solution seem to now be completely dashed. Why don't we sit down and discuss this in detail," I suggested, motioning toward the black conference room chairs. Andronikos and Lord Vashcar took my suggestion and I caught Ashara's attention. "Would you make some refreshments for us?" I asked.
Ashara nodded and left as I sat down a chair away from Lord Vashcar. He was still observing the Cymetikron in his hand thoughtfully. Andronikos had kept quiet this whole time, but I could tell by the look he was giving the Sith Lord that he was concerned and suspicious of him. I felt mildly vindicated knowing that Lord Vashcar could not use the relics any better than I could. He seemed to interpret some of the ancient script, which was more than I could do, but he was not as skilled as Darth Zash. My former master was knowledgeable and trained not only by the academy on Korriban but had also graduated from university with a degree in Sith history. As headmaster of the academy, she had access to unlimited resources and could have used her position to interpret the script of the relics and learn how to use them.
I, on the other hand, was a slave with no formal education and barely the competence to read galactic standard. One of the reasons I had started reading romance novels was to learn how to read, something I was still working on. I hid my illiteracy and lack of education from my trainers and fellow acolytes and worked desperately to learn basic skills to keep my inadequacies hidden. It had taken me years to get moderately proficient in reading basic, and the sheer magnitude and complexity of the task associated with understanding and using the relics sank into me like a massive weight. I felt like a fool thinking it would be easy.
"Watcher One mentioned that there is some sort of life-threatening Force issue troubling you," Lord Vashcar stated as he set the Cymetikron on the conference table and looked over at me. "I sense you are sick, more so than your injured arm. You look physically weak, and your Force aura is chaotic and languid."
"I don't need your observations to know how I feel," I replied sharply, stiffening at his words.
"It was not a criticism," he stated with a level voice, "only an acknowledgment of what Watcher One told me earlier. Can you explain what is happening to you?"
That was a good question, and as I sat there thinking of how to answer it, the scope and complexity of that answer seemed to broaden in my mind. The ghosts were part of the problem, that I was sure of, but how much of the problem and how much I wanted to divulge were complications. Then, there was the near-death experience at the hands of Darth Thanaton. He drained my life force from my body using some archaic Sith skill and left me for dead. Only my tie to the ghosts kept me from passing beyond the mortal realm. Certainly, some of my condition could be attributed to that experience. There was also Darth Zash's attack when she tried to pry my soul from my body. The pain and horror of that moment still made me shudder, and she would have succeeded had Khem Vaal not interceded and thrown off the ritual. Having my soul partially torn from my body could also be a factor in how I felt, but the incident was a secret that Khem and I had kept and not something others would easily accept or understand.
"Lord Kallig?" the Sith Lord muttered.
"Sorry," I replied, coming out of my momentary contemplation, "I was just thinking over your question. From what I can tell, my disquiet began after Darth Thanaton's first attack." I went on to explain the altercation between Darth Thanaton and myself, leaving out the ghosts. Ashara came in with a tray full of drinks and snacks when I began, and sat across from me as I told the story. Both she and Lord Vashcar seemed surprised by the way Darth Thanaton attacked me and my inexplicable survival. Andronikos was there when Khem carried me back to the ship and knew the story, and he watched me with dark, thoughtful eyes.
"It sounds like he used some form of Force drain on you," Lord Vashcar commented thoughtfully after my tale was complete.
"I am not aware of such a skill," I replied in frustration.
"It is a master-level skill that requires some dubious Force knowledge to perfect. The technique is not well known and not taught at the academy. It hasn't been for over a hundred years."
"What kind of dubious Force knowledge?" I asked. Lord Vashcar gave me a frustrated look as he decided whether or not to elaborate. "He's going to use it on me again," I added, "knowing something about it could save my life."
Lord Vashcar went on to explain that certain branches of Sith tradition studied the dark arts of poisoning, assassination, and torture. I glanced over at Ashara several times during his long and sophisticated explanation, thinking his words were not going to help her anti-Sith attitude. He sounded very academic as he spoke, and after a bit, my eyes started to glaze over and I reached for something to drink.
"So, you're saying he used some sort of out-of-favor sorcery on me?" I broke in when he paused.
"Sorcery?" he muttered back at me. "Force skills aren't sorcery, and the reason that this particular skill is out-of-favor, as you say, is that it harms the user of the skill as well as the target."
"His attack on me backfires?"
"Not exactly," Lord Vashcar shook his head, making the tendrils on his face shift. "The skill drains the Force from its victim but surges that energy into the user, creating a dilemma to control the Force energy and shunt it away. As you know, a Force user cannot use or absorb too much Force without risking harm. Once Force drain is initiated, it is difficult to control the flow of the Force. That control is very demanding and leaves the caster quickly fatigued, something that Sith practitioners and teachers decided was more detrimental than the value of casting the skill. Thus, its teaching was rejected and practice has waned."
"Where did you learn so much about an anachronistic Sith skill?"
"I studied, Lord Kallig," he answered, sounding a bit condescending. "It was a hobby of mine at university." I bit back a harsh response, but he seemed to sense my feelings. "I know your background," he added bluntly, "that your quick rise through the academy on Korriban did not entail a significant amount of schooling."
"What a polite way of insulting me?" I quipped, deciding I did not like the pretentious Sith Lord.
"Not an insult, Lord Kallig, but a recognition of where I might be able to help you. That is why you called me, isn't it?"
"You were recommended by Sith Intelligence," I snapped, "and there hasn't been anything very helpful so far."
"Hmm," Lord Vashcar's eyes narrowed at me.
"Back to what's ailing Tish . . . Lord Kallig," Andronikos cut in, popping a snack in his mouth nonchalantly. "Do you think it could be the Force drain whatever skill you were talking about?"
Lord Vashcar looked across the table at the captain. "It quite possibly could," he stated before turning back to me, "though I'm afraid I don't know enough about the nuances of the technique to make an informed judgment. Is there anything else it could be?"
I glanced at Ashara and Andronikos, unsure how much I wanted to divulge about the ghosts and my confrontation with Darth Zash. Both of them knew bits and pieces about the ghosts, but not the entirety of what I was dealing with. Neither of them had heard my conflict with Darth Zash and the ritual she tried to perform on me. "There is something else," I spoke, pausing then to organize my thoughts.
"I did not kill my former master," I admitted flatly, "she killed herself when a Sith ritual she was performing went wrong." I went on to explain how Darth Zash had taken all of the Tulak Hord relics from me and set them up in a chamber deep within the Dark Temple, and how she lured me there on the pretense that we would obtain a new power together. Then, I explained how she started the ritual and tried to steal my soul, and how Khem Vaal intervened and the ritual went bad. When I finished, I noticed everyone's eyes looking beyond me at the shelf of relics.
"Intriguing," Lord Vashcar stated, seeming to have a new appreciation for the Tulak Hord artifact he held earlier. "I have never heard of such a Sith ritual." His orange eyes drifted back to me. "You seem to have a knack of escaping death, Lord Kallig. When you say the ritual went wrong, what exactly do you mean?"
"Khem attacked Darth Zash, and she had to change her focus to him instead of finishing the ritual. She managed to drive Khem back with several strong Force blasts, but then she screamed in agony and fell to the floor. When I recovered and inspected her body, there was no life in it."
"She tried to steal your soul and lost her own," Andronikos posited.
"Possible," Lord Vashcar nodded slowly, "but where did it go?"
"Where do any souls go?" the captain replied, picking up another snack from the tray.
"A deeply philosophical question," Lord Vashcar pondered, "but I am speaking specifically about this ritual. It seems to me that if those artifacts," he pointed his crimson finger at the shelf behind me for effect, "can actually shift a person's life force, then the ritual would not simply make it disappear."
"I saw no sign of her 'spirit' after that," I replied. "It certainly didn't enter me."
"Curious," Lord Vashcar murmured the word, almost speaking to himself. "Getting back to your health concern. I think we have to consider Darth Zash's ritual as a possible reason for your struggles as well."
"Where does that leave us?" I replied.
"Unfortunately," he sighed, "I am not a pathologist. I might be able to help interpret and utilize the Tulak Hord relics, but it will take me a long time, time which I don't have."
I looked at the Sith Lord grimly. He was supposed to help me find answers and instead presented me with the full expanse of my problems.
"Master?" Ashara spoke from the end of the table.
"Yes?" I replied.
"It feels like we need more help."
"I'm afraid she's right," Lord Vashcar agreed. "You need experts in the field of Sith pathology and archeology, especially if you want answers quickly."
It was not what I wanted to hear. I wanted fewer people involved, not more. "How am I supposed to find experts like that," I protested. "I'm hiding for my life."
"Reach back out to Watcher One," Andronikos suggested. "You trust him, mostly, and he's from Imperial Intelligence. If anyone can find experts quickly, it should be him."
There was a momentary pause as I reached for my drink and Lord Vashcar seemed in thought. "I concur," the Sith lord finally said. "Watcher One would likely know whom to connect you with."
Begrudgingly, I opened up the com and sent a contact notice to Watcher One, hoping he was available while we were all together. The call took an inordinate amount of time to connect, and then Elios' upper body appeared in the hologram above the table.
"Ah, Lord Kallig," his sharp voice echoed through the conference room, "and Lord Vashcar, so nice to see you again, and Andronikos, and Ashara. Wow, the gang's all there."
"Elios," I hissed out his name, "I was calling Watcher One."
"Yes, well, his majesty is a busy man, you know, so I get the pleasure of being his answering machine." Elios' image shifted to Lord Vashcar before I could snap at him. "I'm glad to see you made it off Vondarc safely, my Lord, nasty situation there."
"I suppose it is," the Sith lord responded. I sensed there was a bit of frustration emanating from him toward Elios.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to such an illustrious group?"
"I didn't call you," I reiterated harshly. "I need Watcher One's help with some more information."
"I see," Elios replied, trying to act more serious. "Can you elaborate?"
"Lord Kallig needs an expert opinion on Sith pathology," Lord Vashcar broke into the conversation. "She is suffering what appears to be a Force break of some kind which is affecting her Force presence and general health. Also, she has an impressive collection of artifacts that might hold clues to her condition, but are beyond our ability to study and decipher. That task would be better suited for an expert in Sith history or archeology."
"Pathologist and archaeologist," Elios nodded. "Though I sensed you had issues," his image said wryly as his smug face turned back to me, "I had no idea they were this bad."
"Very funny," I snapped. "How long will it take Watcher One to respond, Elios?"
"You've got the best man in Imperial Intelligence working on it already, dear. Should I add any other 'ists' to the list while I'm at it?"
"Elios," I growled. "I want Watcher One to call me."
"But of course, my Lord. I've already sent him a notice to that effect." He beamed me a sharp smile. "In the meantime, I'll gather what information I can."
"How long?" I asked, "Lord Vashcar is here and I don't want to waste his time."
"Certainly, my Lord. You know I'm at your beck and call. I'll send you a message within the hour about Watcher One's schedule."
"Fine," I huffed before cutting the com. "He's infuriating," I groused with a look across the table and then over to Lord Vashcar.
The Sith lord did not reply but nodded his agreement.
"I suppose there's no sense waiting around," I said as I got up from the conference room table. "Would you like to eat lunch with us?"
"If you don't mind, I'll eat alone. It's been a long day for me and I'd like some personal time to meditate and relax."
The group broke up and went their separate ways. I could not help feeling more frustrated than ever about the outcome of the meeting. Not only was Lord Vashcar now involved in my life, but he had limited help to offer, and it seemed like there would be even more strangers poking around. We ate lunch and then I took some time to decompress in my room before seeking out Ashara to try to do some of our daily training. She was still a little upset at me, and we only completed some brief meditation before dinner and then went on a walk together. Upon returning, we entered the penthouse and passed Andronikos' room where he waved hello while watching a holo-feed from his desk. Lord Vashcar must have stayed in his ship because I did not sense his presence nearby. The track lighting in the hall came on as I walked toward my office, illuminating the tan patterned flooring and cream-colored walls. When I stepped up to the office door it swished open and the interior lights came on.
"We need to duel," I stated flatly as Ashara turned toward her room. She stiffened and shot me a look. "I need to test my hand," I added. Stepping into my office without hearing an answer from my apprentice, I walked over to my desk and set my satchel down. It took a moment for me to find my lightsaber in the satchel and when I drew it out and turned around Ashara was standing just inside the doorway.
"I'll spar with you," she stated with a dissatisfied look on her face.
"Master!" I snapped, irritated that she thought to dictate to me. "Address me as master."
Her green eyes hardened as she paused. "Master?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, apprentice?"
"I don't mean to be irritating, it's just hard to remember when I'm supposed to act formal. I would prefer to spare Jedi style tonight - if you don't mind."
My emotions urged me to knock some sense into her, Sith style, but I had just spent several days rebuilding our rapport and did not want to ruin the effort. I accepted her suggestion and we warmed up and then sparred Jedi style. It was the second day of the treatment, and the little microbots must have been doing something, because the pain had lessened and the cybernetic glove seemed a little stronger. I handled facing off against Ashara better, but was still clumsy with the glove. The cybernetics did not respond the same way my human hand did, and my arm was weaker than before, which lead to misplaced blocks and awkward strikes. Ashara fussed and frowned at her lightsaber, not appreciating the Kaal's red crystal in its hilt. I thought the crimson blade looked better than her blue one. It was kind of a match to her skin tone, but she looked angry when I mentioned it.
After sparring, we took time to meditate with our blades, sitting down opposite each other and holding our lightsabers upward in front of our faces. My red blade hummed sharply in the air in front of me with a slightly pinkish hue. A somewhat feminine contrast to Ashara's new blade, which hummed deeper with a bright red blade from Kaal's crystal. Hers was the color of blade I preferred. I explained to her that manufactured crystals needed the Force user to control the flow of the Force so that the blade was stable and powerful. She changed the flicker of her crimson blade slightly during meditation, which seemed to help her mood. After shutting off our lightsabers I was hoping that Ashara would come to the Intrepid and work on my arm for a bit, but she said goodnight and went to her room. I settled into bed later that evening and spent some time reading to relax and push all the thoughts out of my head. Being around Ashara during the day seemed to keep my psychic issues at bay, even though she was not sleeping nearby. I liked having my bedroom to myself, but oddly, I felt more relaxed and slept better when Ashara was with me.