Chapter Six
Theyn was not returned to the cell. He was kept in the chair, bound by electromanacles, and, more often than not, pinned by the sharp needles that cut incisions into his skin and caused his blood to run down his sides and onto the floor. His clothes were not changed – the blood soon dried and crusted in familiar patterns as it found its rivulets – and nor was he brought food or water.
Theyn did not know how long he was kept there, whether it was hours, or days. Time lost all meaning in the chair. Sometimes he was interrogated, either by the Pau'an or by one of the black-armoured troopers, asked over and over again for details of a Jedi Rebellion, and shocked by the electrical charges when he could offer nothing of any value to his interrogator. Other times the machine was simply activated and the room cleared, leaving him to scream his agony into a cold and uncaring void.
Soon the sights and sounds, the thoughts and emotions, all became as a blur to him. Reality blended into a single, warped nightmare. Theyn could not tell any longer what was real and what was imagined, what sleep and what waking. All he knew was pain and fear. Occasionally he felt the Force flicker inside him, and he would try to use its power to break free of his captivity. But he was so weak from pain and exhaustion that he could barely muster the energy to move his own muscles, let alone call on the power of the Force to do anything requiring so much effort as escaping the chair. And even if he freed himself from the torture device, what would he do next? He still did not know even which planet he was on. The potential for danger even if he broke out was endless. He could be inside a fortress filled with thousands of armed beings ready to kill him. He could be under some vast ocean, buried deep within polar ice caps, or on an orbital station in deep space. He had asked his captors more than once which world he was on, what was happening in the Galaxy, why the clones had turned on the Jedi. But they had all, to a being, answered him only with silence. The only words from any of them addressed to him were questions about events he had no knowledge of.
Theyn tried and tried to find a deep connection to the Force, that it might grant him some insight into the events that had led him here, as well as those yet to come. He had, on occasion, succeeded in seeing flashes of events long past and far in the future. But that had almost always been during lengthy periods of intense meditation, not while experiencing constant pain and living in fear of the slightest sound, lest it herald the return to the chamber of the Pau'an who was now the pale-faced vision of his worst nightmares made flesh.
Feebly, desperately, he tried to recite the Jedi Code to himself, his throat, tongue and lips barely able to still form the words after the time they had spent screaming.
"There is no emotion," he spoke, his words almost silent even to his own ears. "There is peace."
He tried to go on, but it was lost in an exhausted exhalation that overwhelmed his lungs.
The door to the chamber opened. The Pau'an strode into view.
"What did you know of the Jedi Rebellion?" he asked, activating the chair's mechanisms with a wave of his hand to flick a switch or press a button. The electrical panels crackled to life once more, and Theyn began to shake, violently and uncontrollably, as the fear of the pain that was about to come overwhelmed him. "What was Master Veron's role in the conspiracy? Where will we find other surviving Jedi?"
The purple, sparking, arcing bolts made contact with Theyn's torso. It burned like fire, and he cried out as his body convulsed and tears streamed from his eyes into his open, wailing mouth.
To the Pau'an, it was as though Theyn made no sound at all. He simply repeated his questions, his tone utterly calm and cold, though Theyn could not hear him over the sound of the electrical charges and his own, raw screaming.
"What did you know of the Jedi Rebellion? What was Master Veron's role in the conspiracy? Where will we find other surviving Jedi?"
The Pau'an waited for what in reality was a few minutes, but which to Theyn felt like an eternity in the pits of some demonic hellscape. Then he gestured with his hand again, deactivating the machine. The electrical panels went cold and grey once more, though the spiked needles remained inside Theyn's skin. The Pau'an put his face very close to Theyn's, and spoke in a low whisper.
"I know you want to die, Jedi. Of course you do. I have inflicted such pain on you as you never thought was possible. And it can end, Theyn Daras. It can be made to end. And it can be quick and almost painless. All you need to do is give me the answers I seek. And then you will be free of this place. Free of this pain. Free of this life."
The Pau'an leaned in closer still, so that now Theyn could feel the warm air of his captor's breath on his tear-stained, sweat-soaked cheek.
"But if you do not give me what I want, I will make certain that you live, Theyn Daras. I will make personally certain that your life does not end, not for a very long time to come. You will know nothing but the torture chair, nothing but never ending pain, but you will survive. You will feel. That is my threat to you, Daras, and my promise. Now – what did you know of the Jedi Rebellion?"
All Theyn could manage was a shake of the head.
"Pathetic," the Pau'an snarled. "You have chosen life, then Daras. You have chosen pain. So be it."
For the third time he waved his hand, this time re-activating the machine. The electricity sprang to life once more, the panels moving towards Daras's face.
Something in Theyn stirred. It took him a heartbeat to realise that it was an emotion new to him. New, but undeniably powerful. Hate. Purest, deepest, loathing hate. Hate for this Pau'an, for the troopers, for the clones who had turned on him on Jaradin. Hate for Harith Veron for leaving him to fend for himself. He tried to suppress the feeling, knew that a Jedi should not feel such things. But the hate was like a parasite, feeding and growing exponentially, and soon it was all Theyn could think about. And although Master Veron and the troopers were not in front of him, one object of his hatred was; the Pau'an.
Theyn felt the final thread of resistance twist, contort, and finally snap.
He let the hatred course through his body like the blood in his veins, and felt a surge of power such as he had never felt before. Now, with perfect clarity, he saw that not only was escape from the chair, from the chamber, possible. It would be simple. But he had been going about things the wrong way, he saw that now. He had been waiting for the Force to give him aid, when in truth he needed to make the Force do as he needed, control it in the way that a true Jedi was able to. How many times had he seen Master Veron command the Force to accomplish this task, achieve that feat? And if the Miraluka had been able to do it, then why not Theyn?
The electromanacles fell away easily enough once he used his newfound power. Theyn wondered vaguely why he had not managed it before. His hands now free, Theyn gestured with them, using the Force to pry the needled limbs out of his skin. He bled afresh as they came unstuck from his flesh and muscle, but now he found that the pain of it made him feel more powerful, more invigorated. He sent a blast of power at the electrical panels, and they buckled as though struck by some enormous weight. The sparks sputtered and died as the device was rendered, at last, useless.
The Pau'an, Theyn saw, was no longer smiling, nor giving him a cruel grimace. His expression now was focused, alert, even wary. His lightsaber sprang into his hand, the crimson blade igniting, held toward Theyn in a combat-ready gesture.
"Well," he said after a moment or two had elapsed in silence, "this does change matters somewhat."
Theyn launched himself at his torturer. He did not care that the Pau'an was armed, armoured, and well-rested, while he was none of those things. His new power was willing him on, telling him to take revenge for his suffering, for the indignities and pain visited upon him. He lashed out with a Force push so powerful that the Pau'an was knocked off his feet, and was sent sprawling to the hard, metal floor where he spat blood before getting to his feet again. Theyn hurled more Force attacks, trying to knock the lightsaber free of the Pau'an's grip so that he could call the weapon to him and end the contest straight away. But his opponent was ready for him now, and Theyn found his attacks intercepted by Force shields that the Pau'an raised in response to his every attempt.
"Stand down, Daras," the Pau'an said as he advanced on Theyn, the lightsaber now angled down, towards the floor. "We can perhaps find some place for you in our New Order after all."
But the words were lost entirely to Theyn in his rage. He curled his fingers into claws and leapt at the Pau'an, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye, aiming to tear his enemy's throat out with his bare hands.
Something slammed into him, throwing him back through the air to crash hard against the wall behind him. Looking around for the thing that had struck him in mid-leap, Theyn could see nothing, and wondered for a moment what had happened. And then, as the fog of impact cleared from his mind, he understood. The Pau'an had hurled him back with the Force, a push strong enough that Theyn was sure bones had broken in his impact with the wall. His chest burned as he breathed, and one of his legs was unresponsive.
The dark shadow of the Pau'an crossed the space between them with quick, purposeful strides.
"A valiant effort, Theyn Daras," he said, the lightsaber blade reaching up with a hum to linger over Theyn's head. "I am inclined to give you a quick end."
Theyn hung his head, grateful at least that his death would be quick. He wondered what would happen, what he would see and experience, in the instant that the crimson blade came down and ended his life in this dark, cold room of pain and suffering and misery.
"Or," the Pau'an said, "I make you an offer. You have shown me that you do have a talent for the Dark Side, for accessing those parts of your being that will enable you to unleash your full potential and power. Join us. Nurture your talents in service of the New Order. Live."
Theyn looked up, stunned at the words. The lightsaber was still activated, its blade still poised above his head ready to deliver the killing blow. But, although the Pau'an was drenched in the Dark Side and in the emotions of anger and hate that fuelled it, Theyn sensed no dishonesty in him. This was a genuine offer. And, although Theyn did not know – could not know – what the Pau'an was offering him, it was surely better than a sordid death, unarmed and beaten, in the room where he had suffered and bled so much.
Theyn nodded once.
"I accept."
"Kneel," said the Pau'an.
Theyn hesitated for a moment. If he did as ordered, he would be ending his life as a Jedi, he knew that. He would be embracing the rage that he had felt as he fought the Pau'an. He would be a Jedi no longer. He would be fallen, fallen into darkness.
But he would still breathe.
"If you are to join us," the Pau'an said, his tone heavy with threat, "then you will obey me. You will obey every order I give you. Now, kneel."
Theyn forced his leg to move, despite the numbness that had taken it over when he had hit the wall. The kneel was difficult, his leg feeling as though it might give way at any moment, but the Force allowed him to maintain his balance.
"You will accompany me to our headquarters, here on Coruscant," the Pau'an said. "There you will be assessed. If you manage to impress me further, you will be admitted as a full member of our fraternity. If you fail, if you show signs of weakness, if I believe that you are still too attached to your life as a Jedi to be one of us, then I will kill you."
"I … understand," Theyn answered.
"Good. Then rise, Theyn Daras. Your new life begins here and now. From your pain and suffering and bloodshed, you rise all the stronger."
Theyn stood and bowed his head. There truly was no turning back now. He felt a strange mixture of deep shame and heady exhilaration. Some small part of him wanted even now to turn back from this path, even if it meant certain death at the Pau'an's hands. Theyn stamped it down. He would live, he promised himself. He would live and grow stronger. And if this Pau'an was the being to help him in that endeavour, then so be it.