Killian groaned with satisfaction as he drank deep from his cup of caf, sinking slowly into a nearby chair as the aches and pains of his body made themselves known. It had been nearly a month since he and the Imperials had finally managed to set up their base, and it seemed as though the list of chores and duties had become endless in that time; not for the first time, Killian cursed Darth Striga for choosing him as her aid and liaison between the Imperials and the Mandalorians.
Since landing on Dathomir, Killian had been tasked with one tedious duty after another, at least when he wasn't being subjected to Striga's brutal torture methods that she lovingly called 'training.'
Killian wasn't saying that the training wasn't helping, for it was; already, his abilities with his new weapon, his lightsaber, had improved by a significant margin, and he could now last nearly fifteen minutes dueling Striga before she had him on his back groaning in abject misery, whereas before he could barely last five.
He supposed the training wouldn't have been so brutal if Striga's already small amount of patience wasn't being pushed to its absolute limits by the constant barrage of guerrilla tactics that the Republic and natives of Dathomir were employing.
From the moment Killian and the rest of those sent to Dathomir landed, they'd been under almost constant sporadic attack. What made it even more infuriating was that the attackers refused to engage in open battle, choosing instead to settle on hit-and-run tactics that were surprisingly effective and were causing the Imperials, and Mandalorians for that matter, no end of misery.
In an effort to gain, at least, some semblance of order, Striga had ordered a defensive perimeter set up half a mile away from the actual base; this perimeter consisted of a ten-foot wall of pure steel that ran around the entire base and took twice as long to build as it should have due to the engineers being repeatedly killed by unseen enemies.
Once the wall was finished and the base secure, Striga had declared total war on Dathomir, sending out both Mandalorians and Imperials with one clear goal: kill anything you encounter that refuses to bend the knee to the Sith Emperor. The warriors had taken to this order with gusto, and no small amount of perverse pleasure, having been on the receiving end of the native's wrath for far longer than they were comfortable with. Three villages, so far, had been razed to the ground, with the survivors left impaled on iron stakes as a warning to any who might stand against the Sith. Killian, fortunately, had not been sent out on any such missions due to his current assignment of being Striga's 'pet.'
Yet, he didn't complain about his lot; in fact, he was actually grateful for it; truth be told, while he enjoyed battle, like all his people, the thought of committing such horrific acts of genocide left him feeling ill. Killer Frost had, unfortunately, been sent on one such mission not too long ago and returned looking pale and disgusted with themselves; even Ben, battle maniac that he was, looked pale and uncomfortable with what he'd been ordered to do. The group had all gone to the local bar together and spent the night drinking while Killian tried to distract them with a new story he was planning on releasing into the wider galaxy once they were free of Dathomir, called 'The Terminator.'
The story seemed to do the trick, as all were too invested in it to dwell on what they'd done, Alexander enjoyed the plan that the 'Machines of the future' had concocted to kill John Connor, but rightfully pointed out the paradox of such a plan actually working. Ben enjoyed the action and fights between the hero, Kyle Reese, and the Terminator; the girls, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the romance between Kyle and Sarah, laughing and blushing during the love scene. At the same time, Ben and Alexander rolled their eyes.
At the end of the story, a sudden thunderous applause echoed throughout the bar, causing the group to jump as they suddenly realized that they'd completely ignored their surroundings and that the bar had filled up with eager listeners who'd stormed the place when word that 'The Bard' had created a new tale and was giving a live reading of it. After MANY drinks from the appreciative audience, Killian and the others had stumbled back to their bunks and collapsed in a drunk stupor, only for Killian to be violently awoken later by Darth Striga, who seemed to think the best way to wake him up was to dump a bucket of water on his head before demanding he meet her in the training hall for another 'lesson' on how to wield a lightsaber; needless to say, it was his most painful lesson, yet.
As Killian took another deep drink, his eyes flickered to the viewing screen in which he'd been placed in charge of for the next six hours; he'd just finished his latest round of training and been given the next twelve hours to 'do as he pleased' by Darth Striga. Unfortunately, Killian couldn't seem to sleep for some reason, no matter how hard he'd tried; just as on Bomodon, a constant buzzing filled his mind, as though warning him that something was coming, yet for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it might be. So, rather than wasting his time trying and failing to sleep, Killian had instead chosen to relieve the security personnel in charge of protecting the base.
The Imperial had gratefully accepted Killian's offer and had promised him a drink as thanks when next they met, before quickly making his way to his own bunk for some much-needed sleep. So now, Killian sat in front of an enormous screen, with five smaller screens on each side of it, watching lazily as the various Imperials and Mandalorians went about their day.
"One hour down, five to go…" Killian mumbled in a bored tone before taking another deep drink. " I hope Mom's day is going better than mine…"
As Killian stared at one of the smaller screens, showing a group of Imperials receiving orders from an officer, his thoughts went back to his mother, and a worm of worry wiggled in his stomach. Terra had left the base the day before with a squad of thirty Mandalorians; they had been ordered by Striga to scout up to two days ahead in order to try and locate the Republic command center, which was rumored to be in the nearby area. This information had come after Striga had vigorously 'interrogated' a captured Dathomiran male survivor.
Personally, Killian was hoping his mother would find the command center; aside from a few skirmishes from the guerrilla fighters, Killian hadn't seen any trace of the Republic on Dathomir, yet he knew they were here, all the same, and the sooner they were wiped out, the sooner that Killian could leave this hell hole and go home.
Stifling a yawn, Killian placed his cup down on the control panel and stretched his arms over his head, sighing with satisfaction as he heard and felt several pleasurable cracks emanate from his body. Leaning back in his chair, he placed his boots on the panel, using the force to make his cup rise off the panel and float into his waiting hand; as he took another drink, Killian couldn't help but snort as a thought popped into his head,
"I may not like the Sith or Striga, especially, but I can't deny having the force rocks! If only I could get this damned buzzing to stop!"
XXXX
Jedi Knight Talon Oaksmith stared with annoyance at the wall, beyond which lay the Imperial's base; as he continued to stare at the wall, from where he lay, carefully hidden beneath a dried and dead-looking Dathomir bush, Talon couldn't help but feel annoyed at the present situation. For nearly a month now, Talon had taken on any mission he could that would allow him to be in close proximity to the base, all in the hope of somehow drawing Killian Farr out of it.
Yet, in all that time, Talon had yet to see hide-nor-hair of his target, and he was not ashamed to admit that his insurmountable level of patience was being sorely tested as a result; as he continued to stare, Talon could make out tiny figures slowly walking along the steel wall and began to count as they continued their sweep. For four days, Talon had lain where he was, watching the wall and counting how long each security patrol took and how long until the next one appeared.
It had been Satele's idea, and a genius one at that, that if they could not get Killian to come out, then the only other option was to go in and get him, themselves. One would think that such a plan would be near suicidal, and they would have been right if not for the fact that in a few days, the Republic planned to unleash its master plan and have their carefully hidden armada come out from behind Dathomir's moon and obliterate the Imperial navy. While that was going on, Jedi Master Durango planned to throw everything he had at the Imperial's base, effectively wiping them out while the Republic navy made any chance of escape impossible.
The plan had been originally to attack the moment the Imperials first landed, but Master Durango had told his troops to wait, wanting the Imperials to have as many boots on the ground as possible and, thereby, as few on the ships as possible, thus, making the victory all the more attainable. Needless to say, the Nightsisters were not happy about such a plan, yet yielded to Master Durango's orders upon the command of their revered 'mother.'
Talon had yet to meet this 'mother' of theirs, but knew that she was the pinnacle of power on Dathomir and that all orders given by her were absolute; when this war was over, Talon would have to look into returning to Dathomir and scheduling an introduction, as he was quite intrigued about the mysterious woman who commanded an entire planet with but a word. A splash of color suddenly caught Talon's eyes, and he carefully reached into his satchel, pulling out his binoculars and bringing them to his eyes as he zeroed in on what had caught his attention. A Mandalorian in white armor had stepped onto the wall and was staring straight ahead, their arms resting almost lazily on the wall before them, but that wasn't what drew Talon's attention; it was the two pink lekku that came out of the back of the warrior's helmet that made him zoom in.
"Aola Farr…" Talon mumbled, a grin spreading across his face,
"What did you say?" Satele asked, nearly causing Talon to jump; she'd been lying next to him so quietly that he'd actually forgotten she was there, and he blushed with embarrassment at such an irresponsible lapse of attention.
"I've spotted Killian's sister," Talon replied, handing the binoculars over to her, hoping Satele didn't see his reddening face.
"How can you be sure it is her?" Satele asked as she gazed at the Twi'lek in question, "I'm sure there are many Twi'lek serving in the Mandalorian army."
"True enough," Talon nodded, "But not too many wear white armor, nor have the Jaegar eyes on their helm…"
Satele zeroed in on the warrior and saw that Talon was correct. The eyes were there, plain to see, painted on the white helmet, and she felt a rush of excitement fill her.
"What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that if we fail to find the boy when the battle begins, perhaps we can take her instead," Talon replied softly. If there is one thing I have discovered about Killian Farr, it's that his loyalty and devotion to his family are absolute. With her in our grasp, Killian will come right to us."
Satele bit her lip at that as she handed the binoculars back, a look of worry on her face that made Talon raise a brow at her, questioningly.
"Are you sure that is wise, Talon? I've already been involved in a plan to kidnap children before, and it left me feeling ashamed of myself…."
"I understand," Talon nodded sincerely. "But unlike that plan, we will not actually be kidnapping anyone. We will simply use the girl to make Killian surrender to us. Once he does, we will let young Aola go and return to Coruscant with our prize. Believe me, Satele, I have no interest in doing anything to ever make either of us feel ashamed of our actions. How can we call ourselves Jedi if we only act like it when it suits us, after all?"
Satele smiled happily and nodded in agreement before looking back at the wall in the distance silently for a moment.
"Master Durango plans to unleash the army in a matter of days…" Satele said at last, "Do you really think his plan will work?"
"I honestly don't know…" Talon replied thoughtfully as he continued to stare at Aola, "Only the force knows what will happen. Durango's plan is good, but with such a force against us, it could go either way, especially considering the latest intelligence…"
Satele nodded at that, and a dark frown came across her features as her mind went back to the latest dispatch that had come through from the Republic's spies; four days prior, right before she and Talon had begun their recon of the base, a ship filled with a dozen Sith warriors had landed, adding to the already impressive number of warriors that the Imperials had at their disposal. Upon seeing them, the Republic's spy had nearly lost his composure and quickly made contact to ensure Master Durango was aware of what he now faced. They were all being placed under the command of Darth Striga and would no doubt make the battle that much more difficult when the fighting actually began. As Satele's mind continued to race, her thoughts turned toward the Sith's commander; Darth Striga was apparently an incredibly powerful Sith sorceress, the child of an equally powerful Sith named Darth Faeth, who was well on her way to becoming a member of the Dark Council, the personal representatives of the Sith Emperor, himself.
According to the intelligence that the Republic had received from their spies, Dathomir was Darth Striga's first attempt at command; this was an excellent bit of information for the Jedi, for it meant that Striga would be almost desperate to ensure that nothing went wrong, lest she be seen as incompetent and thus denied any command ever again. Master Durango viewed Darth Striga with contempt, seeing her as an inexperienced girl who he would quickly swat away as though she were a bug.
Talon and Satele, however, viewed her with a much more critical eye, both having read the reports of the things she was capable of during the few battles in which she had left survivors. Her favorite tactic, it seemed, was to create nightmarish illusions that would quickly cause entire armies to crumble as they fought against things only they could see, sometimes opening fire on their own men when they could no longer tell friend from foe. During one particularly brutal battle, the report indicated that Darth Striga had made the Republic's soldiers think their Jedi commander was actually a rampaging rancor, resulting in the poor man being shot over a hundred times by his own troops.
Appalled at what they'd done, the Republic's troops had quickly lost the will to fight and been cut down to nearly a man; only two hundred survived that battle, out of a thousand, and the survivors had been so traumatized that they swore to never hold a weapon again. Satele had actually met one of the survivors, and the dead-eyed look in the girl's eyes was something that Satele was sure she would never forget; the girl had spoken of how her family owned a winery on Naboo and that she would be going home on the next available ship, hopefully, to never again hear or see another battlefield.
"Have you managed to figure out the rotation?" Satele asked Talon after several moments of silence,
"Yes," Talon nodded back, a smirk beginning to form as he rattled off what he'd learned, "Took far longer than I had anticipated; Darth Striga, or whoever is in charge, certainly has a knack for keeping her opponents guessing. The guard changes every three hours; they work in pairs, each patrolling a mile of the wall, and it takes them nearly three minutes to walk from one end of their designated area to the other. One guard patrols to the left, while the other takes the right, before circling back and meeting again in the middle. There are also security cameras at each quarter-mile radius with motion detectors that instantly lock onto anything that moves, activating the gun turrets that lay within those flower-like 'pods' that are sticking out of the wall's face. All in all, this will not be an easy mission.
"Sounds more like impossible…" Satele replied, unable to understand the way her friend was grinning like a child who'd been given a sweet, "How are we supposed to get through all that? Not to mention the several thousand Imperials and Mandalorians that are inside waiting to unleash their rage on us for all the irritation we've caused them in the last month."
"It is a bit overwhelming, I will admit," Talon replied cheekily, "But not impossible. For you see… I've discovered a single minute flaw, so innocuous that it's been overlooked, and that will be their undoing."
And that would be…?" Satele pressed,
"Yesterday evening, a group of Mandalorian warriors flew out of the base, no doubt performing another sweep of the surrounding area for our HQ. Their departure activated the turrets for a moment before they were quickly deactivated by the guards on the tower."
"Yes… And?" Satele replied, not understanding what her friend was getting at,
"AND," Talon laughed back, "We just so happen to have a Mandalorian scout ship that we took during the battle of Bomodon! We will simply make it look like the others inside the Imperial base, have our spy inside supply us with the landing codes, and fly right inside."
"Like the Trojan horse…" Satele replied, eyes widening as she grasped Talon's plan,
"Exactly!" Talon laughed back. "That's an excellent analogy! Now, let's get back to HQ and get started. We need to get in touch with our spy and begin preparations. If Master Durango is to be believed, we only have three days before he begins his attack. Our mission must overlap with his if it is to have any chance of success."
XXXX
"Again!" Darth Striga commanded as she looked down contemptuously at where Killian was lying, gasping for air after having just been thrown into the wall by Striga; he'd been attempting a flying strike at her, only for her to effortlessly flick him away into the nearby wall.
"Just… Give me a moment…" Killian gasped, causing Striga to snarl in anger at him,
"You don't have a moment!" Striga spat, raising her closed fist and making Killian's eye widen in alarm as his windpipe closed and he too rose into the air, his feet kicking powerlessly.
"I've wasted weeks on you! Weeks!" Striga snarled, "And you're STILL no better than an initiate! Actually, scratch that! Even an initiate is better than you! I don't know why my mother is so interested in you, but I'm done wasting my time and energy on you! So, consider this your last test! Either show me what my mother sees in you or prepare to die!"
Killian's brain went into overdrive at Striga's words; why would her mother be interested in Killian's training? Better yet, WHO was Striga's mother, and why had she taken any interest in Killian in the first place? As the lack of oxygen began to create spots in Killian's vision, he felt anger spike in him; this Sith filth had done nothing but make his life a living hell every chance she could for the past month. He'd put up with her snide insults towards his family, her sneers at his apparent lack of progress with a lightsaber, even though he knew he was far better than when he started, and her continuous contempt for everything he held dear to him. Now, she was threatening his very life unless he gave her a reason to spare him? Ok then, he'd give her one!
"Oh yes… Do let's…" The dark voice echoed from within Killian's mind, speaking again for the first time in months, "Show her the true power you wield!"
Focusing on his lightsaber that lay behind Striga, Killian willed it towards him, activating it as he did so; in an instant, the weapon activated as it shot towards Striga's unprotected back, spinning in a complete circle as it flew toward her, as though to slice her in two.
Sensing the danger, Striga released her hold on Killian and spun on her heel, activating her own weapon as she did so, and blocking the blade mere seconds before she would have been possibly killed. As Killian hit the ground, he took one deep breath, ignoring the pain in his throat and burning of his lungs as he shot forward towards Striga; when he was less than a foot from her, Killian shot his arms out and hit her with a powerful force blast that sent her sailing into the opposite wall with a painful 'crunch.'
The pain in his throat was almost all-consuming, but Killian knew that if he let up his attack, he'd definitely lose this fight; he was under no illusions about how powerful an opponent Striga was. She was a fully trained Sith sorceress, while he barely had two years of training; if he didn't manage to end this fight in the next few moments, he would undoubtedly die.
Jumping towards the nearby wall, Killian used it as leverage to gain as much momentum as he could as his lightsaber flew into his waiting palm; raising it high above his head, Killian brought it down with all the strength he could muster as he descended upon Striga's kneeling form, a savage roar of rage ripping from his mouth as he did so. For the barest of moments, Killian thought he had the bitch, only for her arm to shoot up at the last possible second, her own lightsaber activating and blocking the blow; as the two weapons met, the power of the attack spread outwards, creating a blast of wind that flew in all directions and made Striga's robe billow slightly.
As she raised her head, Killian saw to his confusion that Striga appeared to be smirking at him, as though finding his pathetic attempt on her life amusing; this seemed to ignite the already small flame of anger and hatred that Killian had for her into an all-consuming inferno, and he snarled in her face. Unseen by Killian, his remaining eye quickly transformed into Sith orange, making Striga's smirk into a full-blown smile as she rose to her feet and began defending against her brother's attacks.
There was no grace in his movements, no finesse; it was rage, pure and simple, yet the chaotic movements of his attack were like their own style, and Striga laughed out loud as she began to fall back under his over-powered assault, while subtly drawing him into a corner. She knew he couldn't keep this up for long, and was half tempted to use her sorcery on him, to drive him even further into a rage, and see just how powerful he truly was; but as she continued to block Killian's attacks, her smile slowly turned into a frown as she realized that his movements weren't getting slower, they were getting faster! Inch by inch, Striga began to lose ground, and she found that she was no longer enjoying the fight as much as she had before; instead, she was beginning to grow annoyed and began to press back, only for her attacks to be blocked at every turn.
This annoyance turned first into frustration, then into full-blown anger! How dare this impertinent whelp challenge her like this! She was a fully trained Sith warrior, trained since birth to embrace the Dark Side wholly and completely; he was nothing but a brat that their father had somehow managed to abscond with! Using her anger as she had been taught, Striga began to push Killian back; unseen by both, the power of their duel was beginning to twist the training area around them. The metal beams began to buckle like bits of dried wood, the floor began to crack in spider-web patterns, and the lights began to flicker and shatter, sending sparks raining down on them; yet neither noticed all of these things, too caught up in their duel and the anger each shared for the other.
As Killian's latest attack was once again blocked, he roared in rage, releasing one hand from the weapon and sending a force blast at Striga; Striga seemed to have the same idea and did likewise, resulting in both flying in opposite directions and crashing into the far wall before sliding to the ground with groans.
Struggling to his feet, Killian glared angrily at his opponent, his frustration and rage growing as he saw that while she looked just as tired as he, he appeared to have made no apparent progress against her. As she began to stalk toward him, her lightsaber pointed downwards and leaving a red trail of burnt steel behind her, Killian growled in defiance.
Clipping his lightsaber to his hip, Killian growled again before raising his hands into the air, and calling on everything he had left, and slammed his hands down; instantly, the steel of the ceiling was ripped from where it lay in large, jagged chunks that began to crash into the ground and shake the room around the pair as they pierced the floor as easily as a knife through butter. Almost as though she were dancing, Striga twisted and spun as she avoided the barrage of pointed metal, edging ever closer to Killian; what surprised him the most, however, was the smile of pure joy on her face as she grew ever closer.
"Yes… That's it, Killian!" Striga crowed happily, "Show me everything you've got! Embrace your hatred and show me your power, little brother!"
Killian's eyes widened in shock at Striga's words, and he felt his control disappear in an instant, allowing Striga to cover the distance between the two of them in mere seconds; before he could mount a proper defense, Striga had raised her hand and slammed him into the wall, holding him there with the force, nearly a foot off of the floor as her lightsaber burned inches from his exposed throat.
Still shocked beyond words at what Striga had called him, Killian tried in vain to move even an inch to grab his lightsaber; the act proved impossible as Killian felt as though his entire body was being pressed into the wall by an enormous weight. Even the force was of no aid to him at that moment; after such a ferocious duel, Killian had nothing left in the tank, and as his anger faded away, he felt exhaustion hit him like a hammer. Glaring at him with narrowed eyes, Striga held her lightsaber mere inches from Killian's exposed throat, the heated plasma singeing the small hairs on his neck and making him swallow nervously.
"Disappointing…" Striga said softly, gazing at him strangely as his Sith eye transformed back to its normal color.
"What… What did you mean when you called me your little brother…?" Killian asked back so softly that it almost sounded like a whisper.
Striga smirked at that for a moment before quickly deactivating her lightsaber, though she kept Killian suspended above the floor; gently clipping her weapon to her side, Striga held him against the wall with one hand while placing the other on her hip.
"I think it's time you and I had a long overdue chat…"
"Then, you can start by answering the kriffing question!" Killian spat back, "What the hell did you mean by that?! The only sister I have is Aola, and you damn sure aren't a pink Twi'lek!"
"That alien is NOT your sister!" Striga retorted, "I am!"
"That's not possible!" Killian shouted back in disbelief,
"And why's that?" Striga snarked, "Because you come from a planet where this galaxy is nothing more than a story called 'Star Wars?'"
If there was any blood left in Killian's face, it promptly fled at Striga's words, and he was left staring at her in horrified disbelief as to how she knew that; try as he might, Killian couldn't seem to make his voice work, and any rebuttal he might have had seemed to die on his tongue as Striga smiled at him.
"Oh yes, dear brother, I know all about your sordid history," Striga snarked, "I know about the beatings, the abuse, about how you desperately tried to escape your horrific life by imagining going to a galaxy where no one could ever hurt you, again. I know about your apparent 'death' and how you woke up in the same galaxy that was once found only in your dreams. I. Know. Everything."
"H… How?" Killian whispered, his face pale white with horror; this was a disaster! If Striga knew where Killian originally came from, then it wouldn't be long before others knew as well. All those years ago, Argyle had indeed been right; knowledge was power, and if anyone else realized who Killian was, and what he knew, he would soon be hunted from one end of the galaxy to the next by both sides!
When you were first found on Alderaan, all those years ago," Striga replied, seeming to revel in Killian's horror, "Our mother and I were there as well, spying for the Dark Council, and looking for weaknesses we could exploit when the time came. Imagine our surprise when an orange Twi'lek rushed past us carrying a wounded child who bore a striking appearance to the two of us.
At first, neither of us could believe it, our long-lost family member found at last, and by a couple of Mandalorians, no less! Yet, the evidence could not be ignored, no matter how much we might try. I don't know how our father did it, and, unfortunately, we will never know, seeing as how he was killed in battle, not long after your 'supposed death,' but somehow, he managed to send you beyond the reach of the empire, as well as our mother. I would say you were lucky, but knowing how you grew up, I'd say we were both unlucky in our upbringing.
"No…" Killian whispered back, his voice finally returning to him, "No… That's… That's not possible! I'm from Earth! My parents died when I was a baby!"
"And who told you that!" Striga demanded, her eyes flashing, "The orphanage where you grew up? Do you even remember your parents? Or did you simply believe the lie that you were told?"
"You're lying! You must be!"
"Why? Why is the truth so repellent to you?"
"Because if it's true… That would mean…" Killian couldn't even get the words out; the very idea disgusted him beyond all reason, "That would mean I'm a…"
"A Sith…" Striga smirked back, her face splitting into an enormously cruel smile.
"No…" Killian whispered, "No… I'm a Mandalorian, a member of Clan Farr…"
"You are a Sith," Striga growled, "A son of an ancient house that has served the emperor for nearly four hundred years. A bloodline that has brought entire planets to their knees!"
As Striga spoke, Killian could feel the weight pressing him against the wall increase substantially, until it was all he could do to just breathe against the pressure.
"I told our mother that it was a mistake to leave you with those filthy aliens, that she should have reclaimed you then and there," Striga raged, "But she foolishly decided to let them keep you! She thought you were too broken to rejoin our family and needed time before you were ready!"
"Who… Is… She…?" Killian gasped, causing Striga to smirk.
"You've already met her, little brother. She gave you her first Holocron, remember?"
Killian's eye widened in shock as he recalled the Sith he'd met all those years ago during the supposed 'peace conference' where the Republic had tried to blow him and all of Mandalore up.
"She's not my mother…" Killian said softly, making Striga freeze,
"What?"
"I said," Killian said again, through grit teeth, "She's. Not. My. Mother! My mother is Terra Farr! My father is Argyle Farr! I am a son of House Farr, a noble house with a noble lineage! I am not, nor will I ever be, a Sith!"
"You would choose a pack of filthy aliens over your true family!" Striga snarled, pulling Killian forward and slamming him back against the wall, causing him to gasp in pain as he tried to breathe.
"They ARE my true family!" Killian gasped back, "Even if what you say is true, I don't know you or the woman who 'claims' to be our mother. But I do know Aola, Argyle, and Terra! They were there for me when no one else was! They taught me how to survive in this new galaxy, they showed me what it meant to actually have a family that loves me and cares about me. They rescued me when I was kidnapped by pirates and nearly sold a slave! Did our 'mother' do any of that?! No! They did! They are my family, and the only ones I will ever claim as such!"
By the end of Killian's speech, Striga had a dark scowl across her face, and the hand close to her lightsaber twitched, as though she wanted nothing more than to cut him in half; for a moment, Killian expected her to do exactly that, and braced himself, hoping that it would be over quickly.
Instead, much to his surprise, the pressure pressing him into the wall disappeared entirely as Striga dropped the arm holding him, and Killian dropped to the ground, landing hard on his bottom. As he sat there gasping for air and trying to ignore the pain that seemed to be emanating from every corner of his body, he saw Striga looking down at him with an expression that he couldn't understand.
"You're a fool…" Striga said softly, "To think that you have any other choice but to rejoin our family. Our mother knows your history, just as I do, and if you think she will allow someone with so much prescient knowledge to escape her clutches, then you're an even bigger fool than I originally thought."
Killian swallowed at that as the truth hammered into him like physical blows; Striga crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head wearily for a moment before continuing.
"Our mother values power above all things, and you have the potential to be the most powerful being in the universe. Not just because of what you know, but also because you are the product of four hundred years of selective breeding, just as I am. If you would only abandon your idiotic ideas about honor and the nature of good and evil, you could be the most powerful Sith in a thousand years… Perhaps even more powerful than the emperor himself!"
Striga kneeled in front of Killian and ran a cool hand across the scar over his eye before taking his hands into her own and staring into his eyes, a look of bliss on her face.
"Think of it, little brother… You could bring the Sith Empire into a new age. An age where the entire galaxy, nay, the entire UNIVERSE, would bow to us! We could bring order to the chaos of this galaxy and create an empire that would reign for thousands of years, with you as its new emperor! Our family could rule for an eternity if you would only come back to us…"
As Killian stared into Striga's eyes, he could see everything she was telling him, as though someone had turned on a movie and was holding the screen in front of his face. He could see himself clad in pitch-black robes and sitting on an ebony throne with a crown of pure silver resting upon his brow. Before him, an army stretched interminably into the distance, all shouting his name in reverence; beneath Killian's left boot, with an expression of horror on his face, rested the Sith emperor, Darth Vitiate's head. Suddenly, the scene shifted, and he watched as an armada greater than anything he'd ever seen before sailed through the blackness of space, conquering one planet after another, all in his name. Again, the scene shifted, and he watched as a long line of people, both human and alien, marched in chains to a waiting ship, each wearing an expression of terror and defeat.
"No…" Killian whispered in horror, "No, make it stop!"
Again, the scene shifted, and Killian watched as Coruscant was burned to the ground, the Jedi temple a blazing inferno as Sith slaughtered all who tried to escape; a group of younglings huddled together as a Sith raised its lightsaber across its chest to cut them all down.
"Stop! Please, make it stop!"
The scene shifted one final time, and Killian saw himself again, seated on an ebony throne; only this time he looked different, his face was warped and scared as though someone had taken his features and twisted them, making him almost look like emperor Palpatine would, one day. As the image zoomed out, Killian saw, to his horror, that the ebony throne upon which he sat was sitting on a literal mountain of corpses, both alien and human, all dead with looks of horror and pain on their faces; a horribly cruel laugh began to ring out in his ears and seemed to grow with each passing second.
Screaming in horror and denial, Killian ripped his hands out of Striga's and threw them over his ears as he slammed his eyes shut, hoping beyond hope that the horrifying image would finally stop. After several more agonizing moments in which the laughter seemed to echo all around him, it finally began to die away, leaving Killian shaking and breathing hard, his hands still clamped around his ears and his eyes shut tight.
After several blissful seconds of silence, Killian slowly opened his eyes and pulled his hands away from his ears to see Striga still kneeling before him, her hands wrapped around her knees as she stared at him, her head tilted slightly to the side and smirk on her lips.
"Bad dream?" She asked, causing Killian to swallow the puke that threatened to come up,
"Why would you make me see that…? You're sick! All of you, Sith, are sick!"
"I made you see nothing, little brother," Striga replied with a smile, "I could if I wanted to. I could make you see things so horrifying that you'd willingly claw your eyes out just to make the images stop. But even then, they wouldn't… Whatever you saw, the force showed it to you, not I. Why? Did you not like what you saw?"
"No!" Killian denied at once, once again swallowing another round of puke, "Who the kriff would actually enjoy seeing such things!"
"Depends on who you ask," Striga joked, "There are some on the Dark Council who are true sadists, and would, no doubt, greatly enjoy whatever horrors you were just subjected to."
"Mom was right…" Killian whispered, causing Striga to scowl at him, "The Sith are evil… You're all evil!"
"She's NOT your mother!" Striga snapped, slamming her fist into the wall next to Killian's head and making him jump in alarm as the steel wall behind him actually dented from the impact, "No matter how much you keep telling yourself so, it will NEVER be true! That alien filth will never be your mother, nor will her offspring be your sister! I am your sister! Darth Faeth is our mother! And it's time you woke up and realized that!"
"If that's the real world that I must awaken to, then I would rather live forever in a dream!" Killian spat back, causing Striga to flinch back as though she'd been physically struck; for a moment, she simply stared at him, her arm still lodged in the wall beside Killian's head. After several tense moments, she finally pulled her arm free and rose to her feet, staring down at Killian with an unreadable expression; releasing a weary sigh, Striga crossed one arm over her chest, resting the other on top of it as she pinched her nose.
"What am I to do with you, little brother…"
"Don't call me that!"
"You're making this so much harder than it needs to be," Striga continued, ignoring Killian's outburst, "Why do you think I requested Killer Frost be on this mission? Why do you think our mother asked the Dark Council place me in command? It was so we could finally meet again! So, we could FINALLY be a family again, and you're making it so much harder than it needs to be! I could just beat you into submission and place you on a ship headed back to Korriban. That would solve the problem entirely."
"Go ahead and try!" Killian snapped, struggling to get to his feet, only to fall back as his strength failed him.
"Oh please," Striga sneered, "In your weakened state, a child could beat you. And besides, I'm TRYING to be nice here. Beating you to a bloody pulp and sending you back to our mother would only further fracture our already tenuous relationship."
"We have no relationship!" Killian snarled back, his eye transforming back to Sith orange for a moment and making Striga smirk down at him.
"Not yet, but we will, little brother… Our mother has foreseen it, and I've never seen her make a false prediction. One day, you will join the Sith of your own free will, and on that day, the galaxy will howl with despair, for the Sith shall become unstoppable!"
"Your empire will burn to the ground, first!" Killian shouted, his voice cracking,
"Perhaps it will…" Striga smirked, "After all, a good, clean forest can only be created once the old and dead one has burned away. In the meantime, I would suggest that you keep our relationship a secret. It would not go over well were your precious Mandalore to learn who your TRUE family is…"
"They'd… They'd still love me," Killian retorted, causing Striga to smirk at how unsure he sounded, "Nothing would change…"
"Are you so certain of that?" Striga chirped, "Then, by all means, tell them who I am… If nothing else, it will be interesting to see which of us is correct about our assumptions…"
Without another word, Striga spun on her heel and quickly walked away, leaving Killian alone in the destroyed room that was once a pristine training chamber; hugging his knees to his chest, Killian couldn't help but feel more alone than he'd ever felt before, at least not since coming to this world. What if Striga was right? What if Terra, Argyle, and Aola did abandon him in disgust once they discovered his true lineage? The three of them had made their feelings toward the Sith quite clear over the years, and that was unlikely to change any time soon. Would they still call him theirs if they discovered who Killian's family was? Or would they cast him out, stripping him of his armor and forcing him to leave Clan Farr in shame…
In an instant, Killian suddenly felt as though he were a small child, again lost on the plains of Alderaan and scared about what would happen to him next. Unable to stop himself, Killian suddenly fell forward onto his hands and knees and began to violently throw up as the images he'd just seen bombarded him again. After several moments of this, he had nothing left in his stomach to eject, and he fell onto his side, the puddle of sick inches from his face as he hugged himself and sobbed.
XXXX
"So, he knows the truth at last…" Darth Faeth purred, her holographic image flickering as she stared down at her daughter.
"Yes, mother," Darth Striga replied, "The knowledge has left him distraught and broken. Perhaps it was unwise to reveal ourselves to him…"
"On the contrary, daughter," Faeth grinned, "This information will be a glorious test for your brother."
"How so?"
"It will either make him stronger, bringing him closer to his destiny, or it will destroy him and fill him with so much utter loathing and self-hatred that he will have no chance of escaping his destiny. Either way, Killian will be mine!"
"As you say, mother…" Striga bowed, hiding her sneer, "I will continue to bring Dathomir to its knees and hopefully bring Killian closer to rejoining us."
"Do not fail me, Striga…" Faeth warned, her cold tone making her daughter shudder, "Should Dathomir or your brother escape you… Well, let's just say that all your other punishments from the past will pale in comparison to what I will do to you next."
As the holographic image faded away, Striga couldn't help but shudder with fear at her mother's words; Killian would rejoin their family, even if she had to slaughter every single member of his new family to do it!
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Author's Note:
The Terminator belongs to James Cameron; as such, I claim no ownership over it; I'm just using it in my story for entertainment value. I hope this chapter makes up for the two months it's been since I last updated, and I hope you take as much enjoyment from it as I did in writing it! Killian now knows the truth, and it horrifies him, as I'm sure it would horrify anyone in his situation. In the next chapter, we will witness the climactic end of the battle of Dathomir, and I won't spoil it for ya, but it's gonna be one helluva chapter! If you like this chapter, I'd love to hear from you, and if not…. Well, I'd still love to hear from ya, lol. Until next time!